Theo the Thankful Turkey

One of our Thanksgiving traditions, here's our thankful turkey exploding with feathers of gratitude. Mine: heat vents, fireplaces, hot baths. See a trend?

Bread Recipe

Here's the link to my post with the fantabulous, easy bread recipe. It sounds complicated, but once you've done it once, you realize it is super simple.

http://loveisthespin.blogspot.com/2008/12/quick-note.html

Love!

Christmas is here!

I'm here in my living room surrounded with the white Christmas lights Ben enthusiastically strung all around the room the Friday after Thanksgiving, and Karen Carpenter is serenading me with "I'll be home for Christmas." As a family, we are deeply offended by Christmasiness anytime before pie is served on thanksgiving, after that, there's no holding back. Thanks to Ben, decorating is a snap, especially if I'm not very persnicketty about how things are done.


Thanksgiving was nice, we were at pa/ma-in-laws with all but one of David's siblings. David brined our home-grown 21 lb turkey for 14 hours with Alton Brown's recipe, cooked it breast-down and turned out turkey perfection. He's always been good, but this was the best. This turkey was seriously fat. There was a layer of fat a half an inch thick on some parts of the breast, which made for amazingly moist meat.


When I poured the drippings into the separator to make the gravy, there was 2 cups dark brown broth and two cups golden turkey fat. Two cups!! Insane.


I made Great-Grandma Anna Sophia Smith's potato rolls, every roll dipped in butter before being folded over in the pan. The kids had a ball with their cousins.


Kid updates.

Lucy has been so much more vivacious since her surgery, it is obvious she can hear so much better. Her pronunciation is amazing, every T is crossed with her. She has such a sweet, distinct little personality and her and Noah play (and/or fight) wonderfully. She loves to "do TaeKwonDo" on people, screaming "Hi-YA!" and leaping about with knife strikes and kicks. She's ready for the Little Tigers class over at Master Kim's TaeKwonDo, but I'm not about to pay for that, so we're going to put her and Noah back into "Monkeynastics" in January.

Sophie has been asking for some time to start TaeKwonDo and I've balked, in part because of the price and in part because I thought she was being competitive with Ben. But after a sufficiently long waiting period I realized she really wanted to and we took her to meet with Master Kim for her initial private lesson. He was excited and felt she had great natural talent. In fact, she was able to kick well above her head at first try. That, combined with being crazy flexible, made him think she'd do well if she applied herself. He gave her a fervent directive to work hard and not waste her talent. So, we're a TaeKwonDo family now. They are both 2x a week, but will switch to 3x in January because it's not that much more. It is just a few blocks up the street, really builds self discipline and self esteem and provides good exercise for the winter.

Ben is continuing to do very well in school and just got his TKD brown belt. He's doing great in Webelos and is just all around growing up. We went to dinner with my aunt (my dad's sister) and cousins from that side of the family and there was much comment about how much he looked like my dad as a kid and how his personality and brainpower were very much the same. I take both pride and terror in this, and always use these comments as an opportunity to remind Ben to use his superpowers for good and not for evil. Kidding, I just explain that with great abilities come great responsibilities, and that intellect alone gets you nowhere without focus, hard work, and goodness as a person. The other day I asked him if he was ready to talk about where babies come from, and he said, "Do I have to know? I have a feeling I don't want to know." Hilarious. I gave him a reprieve of a few months.

Noah is crazy, cute and wonderful as always. He also wants to start TKD but I told him he needs to stay dry for a month before he can be a Little Tiger. He is the one person that seems the most impacted by my working. He really acts out for attention and seems desperate for mom love, complete with wetting his pants. He is over five but seems like a young four to me. He has simple tastes--cold cereal, oatmeal, toast, cooked carrots, and anything with sugar in it. He hates everything else I make. He loves cars and blocks and carrying the poor cats around like luggage. Our poor cat Spike that got hit by a car last month is actually very recovered. He's a little slower and still limps, but he's almost back to normal. No thanks to Noah, who apparently trimmed his whiskers, again, this past week.

David is working like a crazy man. We've set some goals for this coming year and they require that he start billing as much as he can, so he's taking tons of jobs and working nights and Saturdays. He's a great provider and I'm really grateful that he works so hard. I have a surgery again on Wednesday (a laparoscopy to see if the endometriosis is still alive) and he's trying to get work in so he can be available for that. I am so lucky to have my Grumpilicious.

As for me, I'm fine. I'm writing a lot, thinking a lot, praying a lot. Trying to sing more. Trying to figure out my purpose in life.

Tonight I'm making that fabulous 5 minute bread I posted a while back to go with Ben's lasagna and we're cutting out Christmas cookies. Yay food!

quotes of the day

John F. Kennedy: “We are not afraid to entrust the American people with unpleasant facts, foreign ideas, alien philosophies, and competitive values.For a nation that is afraid to let its people judge the truth and falsehood in an open market is a nation that is afraid of its people.”

 

Molly Ivins: “The thing about democracy, beloveds, is that it is not neat, orderly, or quiet. It requires a certain relish for confusion.”

 

Meg Greenfield: “Everybody’s for democracy in principle. It’s only in practice that the thing givesrise to stiff objections.”

So, it was short lived, but at least I have pumpkin

Whatever that feeling was, it’s gone now.  I guess it was the eye of the storm.  I’m still happy, but stressed to the max.  

 

Dave’s traveling, a campaign I did at work is blowing up in a good way but causing TONS of work/stress, Ben took a paper route (ie, I took a paper route, at least that’s the way it feels after the first week), money management seems like a part time job and for the past two days I have gone until 6 a.m. to midnight or 1 a.m. non-stop to get everything done, and that doesn’t count much housecleaning, and I’m not even touching my own projects.  This schedule may be normal for some of you, but arg, I need my beauty sleep.

 

And speaking of beauty, I need to give my testimony of Weight Watchers yet again, the “church for fatties” —I love it and am resigned and committed paying that $40/month WW “tithing” the rest of my life.  I got my 5% award last night and for the first time am finally living the program and feeling great.  It makes such a huge difference that I’m doing it with a friend (Kim from work).  It is exciting that I’m keeping it up under all the pressure.  Well, I accidentally discovered an amazing (cheap!) secret that’s helping me do that, more later when I have time.  (NO, it’s not meth, silly.)

 

So, even if you aren’t on WW, you should try this cake—the name is longer than the recipe!

 

Fast, cheap, easy, low-cal, fat free (but doesn’t taste like it) yummy snack cake:

 

15 oz can pumpkin

Any cake mix (spice, carrot and chocolate are my faves.)

 

It’s fine alone, but you can add a little cinnamon if you use chocolate or yellow mix.  Chocolate chips are always good (1 point per T!).  It takes a second to mix together and at first you’ll think it is too dry, then you’ll think it’s too thick.  You’ll be tempted to add eggs or oil or something—DON’T!  Spread it in a PAM’d 9x9 pan and cook at 350 for 25 or so minutes, cut in 12 pieces.  Dust with powdered sugar if you want.  They are less than 100 cal a piece (2 points!) and SO moist with a soft texture--you won’t believe there’s no fat in it.

 

Give me some pumpkin love…

What is this quiet?

When life calms down after what seems like a seven-year biblical
plague of chaos, every quiet moment comes with the natural worry that
there must be something that is being neglected. The last week has
been like this several times--no doctor appointments, nothing extra--
just the regular schedule. Drop off kids at 8, go to work, pick up
kids at noon, go home and do chickens and chores. Then there are big
gaps of time where there is no pressing thing until dinner.

Weird. Of course, there are the ever-present things--bills, more
cleaning, the writing projects. I could always log in and do more
work, and sometimes have to. I teach voice on Wednesdays and then,
after Dave gets back from EQ meetings I have pie-n-cry with Elaine in
the late evening at 9 (highly recommended!). I have WW (my AA) on
Thursday nights with friend and co-worker Kim.

The kids fight and make messes and are loud, but for the most part
are rather low maintenance. It is hard to remember to put active
parenting on my list, but I'm trying to. They're fun to hang out
with most of the time.

I'm so lucky, because both Ben and Sophie do their homework after
school almost entirely independently. Chores take some daily
cajoling, but usually it doesn't take too much bellowing. Ben just
got a paper route and is about to go from blue to red belt in Tae
Kwon Do--I'm really proud of him. Sophie has demanded singing
lessons of her own, and though I don't do hardcore training, she
learns songs so well, sings on pitch and has the cutest smile as she
sings. Noah has just started with his own formal chores and is
busily building with blocks and driving little cars around it seems
half the day. He and Lucy love their little preschool and she's
identifying letters and talking wonderfully. Probably helps that she
can hear now. She's still dealing with some pain, but that surgery
for tubes and adenoids was definitely a good idea.

I feel happy, and that's weird. I feel peaceful. I don't recall
taking any drugs. What is this quiet?

NOTE: Hey, since I write only sporadically these days, if you don't
use a reader and want an email each time I post, please email me and
let me know.

Yay Garlic!

Really?: The Claim: Garlic Can Be Helpful in Warding Off a Cold

Sophie's 8

Fall 09

White turkeys are the ones generally sold commercially. I meant to take a picture of both the bronze and whites before, but I just have a white before and a bronze after.

And After II (yes, we cook our turkey's upside down, it's part of a very elaborate turkey roasting ritual my husband carries out):

Our white hens that we got last year still lay wonderfully--one big fat white egg a day usually. But, I'm down to 6 now. I had them loose for much of the summer and I guess I lost two to predators.

Cute lucy on the tree ladder.

Lucy and Noah in the back yard.

Mother hen (used to be the rooster I called "sissy chicken") and her 12 chicks out learning how to forage. She is pretty fierce if you get too close, as you can kind of see in this picture. She's a great mother, and she does gather them under her wings, just like the scriptures say God will do for us.
I need to take more pictures of the trees here--it is so gorgeous. Yesterday we got the sod cutter rented again and took out more grass for next year's garden. It seems counterintuitive to follow up my miserable neglected failure of this year with expanded ambitions for next year, but we feel we should try again. The first year was very fulfilling, and we did get some good out of this year's but I was learning how to juggle the work/family/health/garden issues.

Talk about fall, we picked tons of apples yesterday from the neglected tree way back on the property (you have to commando crawl under a fence to get over there, then pass the buckets back over when done). Some of them were so perfect and huge. If we found a wormy one, we threw it to our neighbor's (very grateful) sheep. I have applesauce canning on the agenda this week.

Yesterday I also inventoried my food storage, and I'm not so bad as I thought. We are fervently working on that now. I'll go on record that I think the constant media talk of signs of recovery is just that--talk--and I personally think we haven't yet seen the worst of it. I realize only 20% of economists agree with me on that, though.

I heard a comment in general conference that perfectly summed up what I've been feeling as I've been reading about both the economy and studying the scriptures much more than I have before (funny how well they go together!)

It was D. Todd Christofferson who said, "We cannot presume that the future will resemble the past—that things and patterns we have relied upon economically, politically, socially will remain as they have been."

I think there is a lot of false security thrown about in the name of what has always happened, but real security is in obedience to and trust in God and trying to live by the Spirit.

arg

Dangit, I can’t get these pictures to load the lazy way (via email).  I’ll go in and do it tonight if I can.  I also have a great movie of Sophie for her 8^th birthday I put together, I’ll try to figure out how to get that up as well.

 

Life is pretty good. It’s weird how the life I have can seem just fine one day, but be too much to bear the next day—even when life doesn’t change in any way.  I guess it’s just me.

 

Have a garden, keep a chicken & buy local

See, it’s simple, you don’t need to get overwhelmed by the fast-coming problems with our food supply.

 

Here’s another one for Lisa not to read:

 

http://www.myfoxdc.com/dpp/health/100609_top_10_riskiest_foods#

The Great Turkey Massacre of 2009

A great weekend, blood and guts not withstanding.

This has got to be the most autumny autumn that I ever autumned. The air is crisp, the mountains are turning red, and last week they got their first dusting of snow when we had an early first frost. I was driving East early one evening (the "blue time of night" my mom calls it)and looked up at the Bountiful temple midway up the mountain. Red and orange blazed above it, snow-capped mountaintops gleamed above that, and a gorgeous full moon shone just above it all. I almost drove back for my camera, but knew it would quickly be gone, so I just had to live in the present and take it in.

I'd planned on doing about four days worth of fall-prep on Saturday, complete with 12 tasks on the checklist. But I knew that harvesting four turkeys, which my book said would take an hour a piece, would likely end up filling up most of my day. I was right, although the last one probably did clock in at about an hour. And the book was correct, it was just like harvesting chickens, just 5x bigger. The three I plucked came between 18-20.5 pounds by the time they were "fully dressed" (i.e., ready for the freezer). I skinned one and chopped it up into breasts and legs for four meals later, and the meat alone was 14 pounds.

David did the killing, and I was glad, because the book demanded that you give a sharp blow to the back of the head to stun them before chopping off the head. I've gotten used to killing the offending rooster that crowed too loud at 5 a.m., hanging them upside-down by the feet with a rope in the shed and a mega-sharp serrated knife, but the whacking seems rather brutal. David, to his credit, did not enjoy it much.

I couldn't help but think about how far I've come in the more unpleasant tasks of homesteading. I really feel very matter-of-fact about it all now, and am happy to know where my meat is coming from. [Notes to Lisa, don't click on that link--talk about running and screaming]

Ben, that amazing worker he is, harvested 4 buckets of grapes over the course of the day, so when I wasn't picking and cleaning turkeys, I was picking grapes and steam-juicing them for the canner. I got 17 quarts put up and another 3 quarts to drink fresh. The chickens loved the steamed skin/seed mash that was leftover.

This was my second year canning, and I totally felt at ease with it. Diane, you were right, it really is easy. I don't know why people make such a stink about it. Right now I'm listening to the little pops of the cans sealing (yes, I canned on Sunday, but it was an accident). My mom always said that it was one of the most satisfying sounds, and she's right.

Today I gathered 3 dozen eggs. That's partly because they weren't gathered yesterday and partly because I again found where my free/escaped chickens are laying now (the horse trough in the corral). By the way, eggs can easily last 5 weeks in the fridge or more, and one day out of the fridge is worth three days in. So, if you leave eggs out overnight, please don't throw them away. They can last over a week at room temperature (although I'm not sure why you'd do that).

When I find random eggs in the yard (it really is like an Easter egg hunt--that must be where it came from), if I question the freshness, I just put it in water in a glass bowl--it sinks, it's good. One end up a little, but still touching bottom, use it soon. Not touching the bottom or floating, toss it out.

Here is some other advice you don't need:

1. Get white turkeys instead of bronze, the bronze look cooler, but their feathers are black, so when you pluck them, you end up with a lot of black little bits that you can see under the skin. (We had two of each, I plucked one bronze and skinned the others).

2. Don't dry pluck your turkeys, imagining that you'll find something useful to do with all those feathers. It is WAY harder than scalding, takes way longer, and you can just pluck out some wing feathers (for your quills, of course), just before you dunk her in the water. Finding something big enough to scald a 20 lb turkey in is a pain, but it's worth it. (I dry-plucked two, and scalded the last one. My fingers are so sore.)

3. When you're trying to get out the wing feathers, try turning them as you pull, like a key--they come right out. (This learned after me tugging like a madman in vain at length.)

Anyway, file that away in your "Stuff I Hope I Never Need to Remember" file.

Seriously, pictures of all this are coming (nothing too gory, don't worry). They're on Dave's computer and I hopefully will have time to get down there tomorrow night.

I don't know what, other than genetic memory, could make me feel like harvesting turkeys (which I've never done before) would make it feel like fall, but it certainly did. It was overcast and cool and just felt like fall--my favorite time of the year. Today it rained and rained--a wonderful day to just stay inside.

Conference was great, I can't wait to read/listen to it again with less distraction. I loved just being home for two days and enjoying the family.

I've been reading the New Testament lately and really feeling that although I have faith in Christ, the fundamentals of Christian behavior--just being loving and kind, really are lacking in my life. And without charity I am nothing, right? Conference definitely repeated, many times, that theme, that love of God and love of neighbor are really what is all about, and although I can tout busy-ness or any other lame excuse, when I stand before the Savior, that love is what He will have expected of me.

And I really do have a lot of love to give, but I haven't been giving it any outlet this past year. So, it's time to change that.

Love to all,

Valerie

That's Not Food: Less Preachy, but Still Important

Between the scrum of last election and the hormonal chaos of a hysterectomy, I seem to have misplaced some of my obnoxious opinionatedness. I miss it a little. I'm sure you won't. On the subject of food, for instance, wherein I have scrawled many a manifesto, I had come to be a little freaked about about pretty much everything.

MSG is still evil, it doesn't mean I don't eat it. I know how to eat well, it doesn't mean I do it. Still, there are some things that just shouldn't be allowed to be called "food." One of those things is Sodium Benzoate.

I'll make it short and quote my latest issue of Martha Stewart Food:

"Sodium benzoate is a preservative used to inhibit the growth of bacteria in acidic
foods. On ingredient labels, it is occasionally listed as "E211." The substance also occurs naturally (albeit in very low levels) in many foods, such as cranberries, prunes, and plums. The USDA considers it to be harmless in small doses. [Sorry, I can't help myself here--the main thing the USDA "considers" is the demands of big agribusiness.]

So much for less opinionated. Going on:

"You will find sodium benzoate on the ingredient list of salad dressings,
sodas, sports drinks, fruit-flavored juices, pickles, condiments and even some
cough syrups."

OK. So what?

"Sodium benzoate has been connected to two health risks. One study
linked products containing the additive to hyperactivity in children, and others
have pointed out that combining sodium benzoate wtih vitamin C produces benzene, a known carcinogen [emphasis added]. You may want to avoid this pairing, which is common in some sodas and flavored beverages."

"A known carcinogen." Seriously, people.

All I'm saying is, just because it's on the market shelf, please don't assume the government wouldn't allow it there if it wasn't safe.

Just sayin'.

In conclusion, to make up for that moment of food preachiness, I leave you with this hilarious transcript of the 4/11/2009 episode of Wait Wait...Don't Tell Me on NPR, wherein my quasi-hero Michael Pollan loses a food debate with my longtime favorite funnygirl, Paula Poundstone.

Peter Sagal: What should we be eating?

Michael Pollan: Food.

Paula Poundstone: How thick is your book?

Michael Pollan: It's very hard now for us to know what food is. Because there are all these edible food-like substances now that compete with food in the supermarket. So a lot of the book is helping people distinguish between the edible food-like substances and the real food.

Paula Poundstone: But let me ask you something. One of the things that has made my live worth living is Ring Dings. And I feel that it is food. Are you going to tell me that's not food?

Michael Pollan: There's a few simple tests to figure out if a Ring Ding is food or not. How many ingredients does a Ring Ding have?

Paula Poundstone: Devil's Food Cake -- one. A creamy filling -- two. And a rich chocolate outer coating. What's the matter with you?

Michael Pollan: I would look at the package next time, that creamy -- CREAMY -- is not cream.

Paula Poundstone: C-R-E-A-M-E-Y. Creamy. What the hell's the matter with you?

Michael Pollan: But...but but but but...There are special occasion foods.

Paula Poundstone: What do you mean special occasion? I said it's what makes my life worth living. Are you suggesting I save it for one day a year?

Michael Pollan: I wouldn't want to deprive you of your...

Paula Poundstone: You know, you may know a lot about food, but you don't know the first thing about living, buddy.

I love you, Paula!

Why I have time to blog

So, I lied about the Sophie pictures. But, I did get all the pics I wanted to post scanned and will do it this week.

Here's why I have time to blog--because I had just put Lucy and Noah to bed tonight and was going out to move a rooster to a new pen before it got totally dark.

Noah got out of bed, so Lucy got out bed, and they followed me outside (with Ben yelling at them because they were walking on his newly-mopped kitchen floor--remember my love for child slavery?).

When she saw me venturing into the backyard darkness, Lucy was instantly panic-stricken. Her greatest fear was realized: I was going to feed the turkeys.

I wasn't really. But in her tiny, tiny little three-year-old mind, the only thing I do outside at night is risk my life feeding turkeys. This is because about two months ago, I was coming back from feeding the turkeys and was straddling the wire fence between our back chicken coop area and the landlocked lot where the turkey cage was at the time.

I was still in my work clothes, because I'm a slow learner and was (again) doing farm chores in business casual attire. Ben had just come out to tell me that Lucy wasn't staying in bed (David was working in his downstairs office). But by the time Ben got to me, she was on his heels, barefoot in the dark and upset. I commenced to get my foot stuck and fall backward over the fence, getting caught in some barbed wire that we'd pinned back from the crossing spot, and landed on my back with my feet tied up in the fence.

Lucy went into hysterics.

I kept telling Lucy, as I lied on my back in the dirt, that mommy was fine and not to worry, but the hysteria only escalated and she ran screaming into the house in horror. Ben tried to get my clothes unhooked from the wires, but in the end, I had to just pull them free to stand up, ripping my favorite "new" (DI) red shirt and work pants.

I made my way into the house and had to comfort Lucy at length while she cried, "Mommy fine? Mommy OK? Mommy NO FEED THE TURKEYS!!"

Then, at least once a day, every day, for at least a month she again counseled, "Mommy no feed the turkeys, OK?" And, if she saw me going out in the yard at night, she'd run out and grab my hand and lead me back to the house, saying "Ah, mommy's tired, mommy want to go to bed. Mommy no need to feed the turkeys."

It got to be that, even at mid-day, she'd randomly inquire, "Mommy feed the turkeys? Mommy OK?"

Apparently I'd rocked her world with uncertainty and traumatized her for life. Since then she's been treating me like a fragile being. It didn't help that I fell down the stairs a few weeks after that, of course right as she'd wandered out of bed, again, after being officially tucked in, again.

That only fueled her fretting.

So tonight, I shooed her inside while she began getting upset about all the horrific possibilities of mommy going outside at night, worried tears welling up even before we got back to the door. In order to get her to stay in bed, I promised mommy would stay inside.

So, I'm just waiting for her to go to sleep so I can go outside and move the rooster.

How does the story end? The four turkeys, all female, all likely to be well over 20 lbs when dressed, meet their doom on Saturday, because my sweet mother bought me a deep freeze over the weekend.

But somehow I doubt dead turkeys (and the bloodbath that will precede it) will put Lucy's troubled mind to rest.

Sophie's Birthday (Day 1)

Today we acheived some high-yield, low effort birthday perfection. I did have to get up at 6 a.m. to have the requested Monkey Bread ready by 8, but then we took our time baking cupcakes tor today and the cake for tommorow (the real birthday: #8). The whole family ate burritos at the park, met some friends for play and cupcakes, all went swimming, played some more, Dave BBQd hamburgers, we watched Tale of Despereaux (sweet but preachy) while I cuddled with Sophie.

I knew I'd succeeded when I got a compliment from Dave for putting together such a nice day for Sophie, and both Sophie and Ben independently complimented my cupcakes as "looking just like store bought!" Um, thanks.

Noah's line of the day as he prepared to release an untied balloon to fly across the room: "Prepare...to be...amazed. He also asked that his name be changed. I told him he could pick from one of his actual names: Noah Hyrum Charles. He asked to be called Charlie. I wonder if he meant that?

Tomorrow is the primary program and I've been practicing like crazy. I love my low-key calling and never stress about it (as you would know if you heard me play), but I really don't want to pound out a sour chord in Sacrament Meeting. Especially when the chorister is so intense about it all. But energy and focus is low--I've been sick since Tuesday and if my lungs still hurt tomorrow my mom is going to test me for pig flu (she' works in a lab).

I'm going to post pictures tomorrow without fail!

BREAKING NEWS! I’ve ARRIVED!

You can imagine the surprise I felt just about a week ago, when I realized that, according to myself at 12 years old, I have officially arrived in the life I always imagined I’d have.

Granted, the 12-year old me, when imagining that glorious future self, wouldn’t have thought to be more specific about whether we rented or owned, where our money went each month, or whether the 3-year old was potty trained. In her hazy vision, she likely didn’t look too closely at how dirty the floor was.

But if she were to see me now (and I were to wear tight jeans and suck in really hard) she would probably think I’d done it.

I am married, I have had all my children, with a tidy two boys and two girls. I have a calling in the church, now actually do my visiting teaching each month and have FHE each week and my husband is in the Elder’s Quorum presidency (so apparently our family’s many sins are either forgiven or well hidden).

I now can pass as almost a stay-at-home mother (except for the part where I leave for five hours every morning), my corn is almost 10’ tall (to distract from the tangle of weeds below), I put up tomato sauce last week and one of my hens hatched 12 chicks. In essence, the dream of 1984 has been realized.

This is it. The jobs we have and the house we rent and the ward we live in now are all likely to be the same jobs, house, and ward we have five years from now. This is my life.

Acceptance is a painful relief. To want nothing more than one has—to see mainly the blessings and give little thought to what is lacking—it is such a gift. For me, it’s sometimes a gift that must be forcibly pulled down from the heavens sometimes.

In my heart (not my head) I secretly thought life would start when specific job, financial or health burdens were lifted, and that as long as they were not lifted, I was sure it really wouldn’t be living at all.

But it is.

This past summer, I pridefully prayed that the Lord solve the problem, not just make me feel better about the problems. Apparently, he thought my attitude about my problems was the problem that most needed solving, and that’s the prayer He answered.

The other day I read, “Adversity is like a strong wind. I don’t mean just that it holds us back from places we might otherwise go. It also tears away from us all but the things that cannot be torn, so that afterward we see ourselves as we really are, and not merely as we might like to be.” (Memoirs of a Geisha, p. 348)

For those of us who are inclined to live in the future, and have spent most of life anticipating the moment when a certain struggle or crisis would pass, it’s a big step to be able to say—complete with the burdens and crises—this is my life.

So, I’ve arrived!

What’s next?

still here

I’m still falling short of my goal of even just a weekly family update, so I’ll try to play quick catchup:

 

Ben and Sophie started school today (9/8) at Capitol Hill Academy.  Ben got advanced to 6^th grade (skipped 5^th) because he tested almost in 7^th. Sophie will be in 2^nd and is excited to be in school with her cousins (Kim’s kids) and the Oaks.  School is packed into 8-12 and is an intense workday, but they like the shorter schedule. 

 

I was able to negotiate yet another schedule change and now work 5-7 a.m. at home, go pick up the Oaks and drop off Lucy and Noah with Elaine, take all the kids to school downtown at 7:45, be at work by 8 a.m., leave at noon, pick them all up at 12:15, take home the Oaks, pick up Lucy and Noah, and go home for lunch and mommy life.  Tues and Thurs are a little different, as I have to keep my normal, 8-3 schedule on Tuesday for my team meeting and Lucy and Noah will either be with David, or if he’s travelling, with my mom, since on those days they both have a cute little in-home preschool with a lady in our ward.

 

This is just one part of a very grand effort David and I are making to settle down and make our lives more calm and less crisis mode.  He will be taking on as much work as he can, I will be able to step up my home/kids/family care, the school situation is good and stable, etc.  David’s actually going to get a UT driver license, so that shows you he has finally come to terms with our life.  

 

David got called to the Elder’s Quorum presidency this past week, and I think that will be good for him to feel useful.  He was a great gospel doctrine teacher, but he has missed the heavy service he used to have to do as a scoutmaster.  

 

I had a lot of health craziness the past few weeks.  In fact, I had 6 medical appointments (including a scope and a CT scan) in one week.  It was lame.  I’ll spare you the drama, but I’m probably fine.  The endometriosis problem that was left after the hysterectomy is just still causing problems, and I also was a loser on the waterslide at Lagoon a few weeks ago and subluxated my kneecap.  I couldn’t do the triathlon on labor day, so Ben was discouraged and didn’t do it, but instead we went on a hike to donut falls, and the knee held up ok.

 

Overall, it was a great summer, from the kids perspective.  We camped, went to Lagoon, hiked, swam, barbequed, played some video games, had birthday parties and generally were structureless.  I’m looking forward to getting back to the structure now.  From the parent’s perspective, it was a summer filled with tons of painful spiritual lessons on trust in God, contentment and submission and lots of personal growth.  I have immersed myself in the scriptures and in study and prayer and have come out with a much clearer view, although it’s always a work in process.  

 

Again, I’ll try to write more often.

 

xoxox

Learning

I bore my testimony last week in Sacrament Meeting (because David was out of town and I feel silly doing it in front of him for some reason--and because I felt like it).  As often is the case, I know what I want to say but sit down not knowing entirely what I said or if I said what I meant to.  But something came out in the middle that wasn’t what I meant to say, but was so relevant and true nonetheless.  It was this, “While it’s true that I don’t always understand why my prayer can’t be answered when it seems like I’m asking for something that is right, I know that if my prayer had been answered one year ago or five years ago, I would not have had the opportunity to feel Heavenly Father’s love in the way I have going through the waiting.”  Unfortunately, I said, I learn best in difficulty, which I guess is why we’re here to be tried, and to learn from our experiences.

 

Here at work we had to take a “Strengthsfinder 2.0” test when I started, and I learned I was a learner, an idea person (ideator, they called it), someone who was good at making things happen (an activator), interested in and able to get a good idea of future possibilities (futurist), could relate and communicate ideas to others well (relator).  I liked this test, first because it talked about how much more efficient we are to play to our strengths rather than spend all our energy on our weaknesses (not to say you don’t try to improve).  But also it made me realize many of what I’d considered liabilities (being a goofy, impetuous dreamer that talked to much) were kind of strengths.  And, it validated this obsession I have with learning stuff and figuring things out—especially the way the world works, the way people work and the way God works. 

 

To me, learning about things—what is real, what is true, what has happened, what will happen, how things in the world work--is a hugely important thing.  To me, learning truth helps make our actions more relevant and purposeful, more in line with reality.  But, learning, for me, often has to come with pain.  Hard learning like this can make us refined, it can crush us, it can make us bitter.  I’ve allowed it to do all of these things for me at various times. 

 

Let me just start by saying my life is good, and I’m blessed and things are fine.  But, there is a certain part of our lives in which we are very, very stuck and no matter how hard we try we just can’t seem to get unstuck.  And although it is just one part of our lives, it is so all-encompassing, and it tends to spill over and corrupt every aspect of our lives far too often.  Lately more than ever there have been signs that we will finally get unstuck, but I’m noticing that as the signs come and go, I’m starting to learn to hate the signs themselves—it’s like I hate them in advance for creating false hope.  Isn’t that weird?

 

This weekend I came up with this analogy about the last few years that goes like this.  Imagine you are stuck in a small, room with no windows and a locked door, and you can’t get out.  At first, you knock, bang, tug kick and finally yell at the door.  You plead for someone outside to open the door.  Eventually you stop all that with the exception of simply trying the doorknob every so often.  Sometimes, a voice comes over the loudspeaker (did I say there was a loudspeaker?) and says, “The door may soon open!”  And with the first of these announcements, you get excited, and you wait for the door to open, and you think about all the possibilities that await you when the door opens.  But it doesn’t.  Periodically, the same announcement is made, but nothing ever happens.  So, after several times you stop being excited.  Sometimes you may regress and go back to kicking and screaming at the door and begging for someone to open it, sometimes you let yourself get excited again.

 

Now I feel like am in that place where I’m sitting quietly in the room, trying to not even think about the door, and when the announcement comes, I just fall apart and wish it would just go away.  Is this a broken heart and a contrite spirit?  Why is broken needed?  Now I’m finding I resent things that try to make me hope, even great opportunities and possibilities.  I don’t like that I’ve learned to fear hope.  That seems very backward.  That’s why we need trust (faith) and hope together—we have to have faith that the thing we hope for is a true thing.  In my case, I have reason to trust it is a true principle that the door will open someday, I just need to keep my sanity and faith while I wait.

 

Just my rambling thoughts.  I read an interesting article about learning, and baby learning vs. adult learning here:

 

Op-Ed Contributor: Your Baby Is Smarter Than You Think

 

Budding triathlete

Maybe things would have gone differently if I’d discovered triathlon at 10—my health, my confidence, who knows?  Ben was inspired by my Spudman adventure and asked if he could do a sprint triathlon with me.  I told him he’d have to show me he can do each part of the triathlon before I’d pay and sign him up.  I told him that at the pool.  He commenced to swim 10 laps on the spot to meet the 500 meter requirement, and, in the coming three days, worked up to 12-mile rides on his bike.  We are going to start walk/running together a bit, since that’s the weak link for both of us.  So, we’re just doing the rec center one on Labor Day, so no wetsuits and low-key.   I’m excited for him to start feeling that sense of accomplishment at such a young age.

 

I swear, it was all him, I never would have asked him to do any of this. 

 

So, for his birthday, we got him a new, bigger bike, complete with a (cheap but it works) bike computer to see his speed, distance, etc.  We also got him a punch pass for 25 trips to the rec center pool, and a training journal to plan and track his efforts.  Due to lack of time (and possibly planning), I was up until 3 a.m. last night decorating his cake, putting up the birthday sign, blowing up balloons, buying the bike (24-hour Walmart—I guess I see why people shop there, but seriously, where do those weird people I see there come from?)   Over the years when I do something really fun for a birthday, the others expect it for theirs, and then it becomes tradition.  For instance, I make exotic cakes in whatever shape is requested, not to say I’m a fancy cake decorator, they still look VERY homemade.  Ben and I decided on an exploding firecracker, since he was so into the fireworks in July.  I even was able to nail that perfect reddish-pink of the Chinese firecrackers!    ast year I left Sophie’s presents wrapped and stacked on the table for her birthday for when she woke up.  Sophie asked a few days ago if I’d do that again for hers in September (it makes it feel like Christmas, you know).  So, Ben asked for the same treatment and specifically requested a mylar balloon, but I didn’t have much to present on a table, so I added a pencil box for school, etc.  Of course, Noah has stated his expectation that he will have the same table setup in October.  Ben also asked for cinnamon rolls this morning, so I arranged to go into work late, made the dough last night (about 2:30 a.m.) and got up at 6:45 to put them together.  I wanted big ones but I accidentally made them huge—bigger than a CD.  Oh well. 

 

He was ecstatic this morning and just loved everything.  I called him at 11:40 a.m. (10:40 California time) and told him he was officially ten.  I don’t know why this feels so monumentous, but it is.  His time in our home is half over—in 9 years he’ll be going on a mission.  It’s mind boggling.

 

I spent some time recently downloading all my Carepages entries and comments, and I was reminded of how much love and prayer was going around those days.  That was the start of me doing this blog.  I’ve had so much support from my friends near and far through all the craziness of the past several years, I just want to thank everyone again for that and send my love out there.

Ben's Ten

Sweet little Ben—Today I can’t stop thinking about my first little baby, the constantly grinning, fair little boy that hardly ever cried—that sweet little guy I had to wait for seven years to finally get to see.  I always had a feeling, deep down, that I would someday be able to have a baby, and I knew it would be a boy.  I can’t believe it has been ten years since you came into our lives—not because it went fast, but because I can’t imagine ever living without you. 

 

You have taught me so much, have challenged me beyond my wildest dreams, and have shown me how frightening it can be to look into another set of my own blue eyes and know that you are destined to enjoy and battle with so many of the same personal challenges and strengths I have.  I know I have made an enormous amount of mistakes as your mom, but I have tried to prepare you as best I could to help all those crazy “Wise” genes play to your advantage and not become your downfall.   So often when I get impatient or mad at something you’ve done or said it’s really because deep down I’m saying “Please, don’t be like me.”  But perhaps, like me, some of your strength and wisdom will come from the experience and perspective that only comes from having flawed parents.

 

You are a handsome, bright-eyed genius, still with all the exuberance of a puppy.  I hope you always keep that enthusiasm for everything.  Emotional intensity has been your bequest and burden from both sides, and this will serve to make your life both more difficult and painful and more full and rewarding.  Your amazing brains will do the same.  Your potential is boundless, your genetic road can be treacherous, your guides are imperfect—but I know the Lord will give both us and you the wisdom to enable all of us to accomplish everything we came here to do and become what we came here to become.  In fact, I know he put us all together for that very reason. 

 

I love our talks, I love your ambition, your optimism.  I love to hear about your dreams and inventions.  You amaze me, you make me crazy.  You really do light up my life.

 

Thanks so much for coming to our family and being my son.  I love you so much.  Happy Birthday.