music sharing

I am sure you've heard me offering my impeccable taste in music to you in the form of a mix CD.  I've done it so often that now the only people who comment on those posts are those who have already received a CD.  So... !


But once in a while, someone gives ME a mix CD.  It is very awesome. And extremely interesting.  I have come to believe that a mix CD is a window into the soul.  OK, not really.  But it definitely tells you things about the person and yourself that you might not previously know or realize existed.  


Take, for example, my friend Larci* who sent me a few Christmas CD mixes.  On one mix there were TWO versions of "Mary Did You Know."  Larci does not know that I loathe that song.  And I imagine she didn't even realize that she put it on one mix TWICE.  She obviously likes the song.  There is a reason that this song is popular, so I'm not ragging on it; to me, it's just one of those songs that grates my nerves for no other reason than I am a calloused, cruel human.  Larci is not.  Why is she friends with me, then?  This CD makes me think that maybe she is my friend because she sees that my soul needs a-savin'.


I have another friend, Merynn* who made a mix CD en lieu of Christmas treats this year.  The gift that keeps giving without the poundage added to my derriere.  Great idea.  Her CD showed me that maybe we have more in common than I initially thought.  There were a few songs on her mix that I own and love.  There were other songs that I immediately loved and thought, "Fantastic... I love new songs."  And, naturally, there were songs that made me think that while I am eating at Chuck-a-Rama with my ragamuffins, she is up in the canyon eating at an organic cafe after a long, difficult hike while her well-behaved children sleep at Grandma's.


You know what I'm talkin' about, right?

(*names changed to protect the innocent)

There was one song in particular, though, that has rocked my roll (whatever that means).  Katell Keineg.  Heard of her?  Don't lie just to seem cooler than me.  Well, I am grateful to Merynn for Katell. Apparently she has been around for almost two decades and is constantly on the brink of fame, but never quite attained it.  A few years ago, the New York Times featured an article telling the world to take note of her awesomeness and she said: "I'm someone who gets lots of praise from lots of quarters, but have found it very difficult to fit into the structures that determine people's progress in the music world."  I can see that. 


Voila, for your pleasure, if you choose:

I love the idea of "shaking the disease"

Whaddya think?  Who do you know musically that I should know musically?

Oh, and SEE YOU NEXT YEAR!  Bring it, 2011!


THREE THINGS (holy cow, this is my last three things):
1. heater!
2. blankets!
3. dark, dark chocolate

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faire pipi

Boys and their games, I tell ya.


Yesterday, Ashton's little friend was over at our home for some indoor play.  Johnny was playing the role of bigger boy as Ash and his friend willingly followed him around and did all of the fun things Johnny directed.


At one point, Johnny instructed that all three of them needed to get a cup full of water and a straw.  As Ash and his friend waited for Johnny to bring the last cup to the table, the friend asked Ashton, "What are we doing with all of this water?"

Ashton answered, "It's a game.  We drink all of this water and then see who has to pee first."


Like they play this game all of the time.  Which they very well might.  And I realize that I know next to nothing of how the little boy's brain works.

What will their teenage games be like? I am afraid to know.


THREE THINGS:
1. a friend who sends a QUINOA lunch! merci!
2. seeing my fireplace mantel again
3. staying cozy indoors while a blizzard rages

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adios navidad

It's coming down today.  Almost all of it.  OK, it might take me a couple of days, but today it is coming down.  Putting away the Christmas.  Saying adios to the cheery and cluttered.  I love to see it come and I love to see it go.


Christmas music has been officially banned as well chez nous.  How can we love something so much to tire of it so completely two months later?  One word: overdose.


We have been experiencing the Christmas hangover for the last four days, unable to do much other than sleep, eat, and mumble occasionally.  Time to move on.


Two days to New Years Eve.  What are your plans?  Can I come?


THREE THINGS:
1. a husband home to (help) put away Christmas
2. Al's 14yo cousin who held Rhett all night
3. SOUP twice in one day--so warm

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recent reads

My latest reads with short commentary for your enjoyment and consideration:

Matched by Ally Condie


A dystopian YA novel that centers around a 17 year-old girl learning about choice in a "perfect" Society where there is none.

Rating: 8.5 out of 10

Overall, I would suggest it.  It was an easy and engaging read.  I was a little disappointed when I discovered midway that it was the first of a trilogy.  I like to know those things going in, so that I am not expecting a resolution at the end.  This book definitely leaves you wanting more and the next book doesn't come out until Fall 2011.  I think this book is going to be a big deal in the YA world.

The Limit by Kristen Landon


Set in the near future when the government has imposed credit limits for all families. If your family goes over their limit, the government takes the oldest child to a workhouse to work off the family debt. This novel centers around Matt, a math whiz, who becomes such a child.


Rating: 7 out of 10

I bought this book at a writing workshop because the author was there and I wanted to see how she wrote after hearing about her process.  (And I wanted an autograph!) I couldn't tell if it was meant for male readers or a female audience and the fact that I wondered at all is slightly frustrating.  Definitely YA--maybe even middle grade.  A fun read, but I don't think you are going to be hearing much about any movie.

The Chosen One by Carol Lynch Williams


Kyra is a 13 year-old girl living in a polygamist sect with a loving family which contrasts heavily against the controlling leaders and prophet.  Her struggles and discoveries as she becomes "chosen" to marry against her will.

Rating: 9 out of 10

Definitely not appealing to a wide audience, but so very well written.  I believed every minute of it.  It is written for YA (see a trend here?) but I am not sure what age.  It feels a bit too heavy of material for early teen.  Tragic and endearing.




Any new books you have read?


THREE THINGS:
1. sleeping longer than needed
2. board games for bored kids
3. QUINOA!

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Disgustingly delicous

Once in a while, you taste something that you wish you hadn't. You eat something that by all accounts should be repulsive, but you find yourself reaching for more.  And more.  


Sweet & Salty Caramel Bugles are one of those things for me.  I wish I had never bought that bag for the kids on our trip to the Tetons last summer.  And then I wish I had never tried one just to see if they were OK.  I also wish they weren't on sale at Target at my last shopping visit.  They are disgustingly delicious.


Another tasty atrocity is the Asiago bagel at Einstein's with strawberry cream cheese.  I have to thank my niece, Tasula, for introducing me to that one.  She's got a gift.


Every once in a while, I get a hankering for my mother's culinary chef-d'oeuvre: the english muffin with peanut butter, tomato slice, cheddar cheese, and Bac-o's all toasted under the broiler.  Shouldn't be so delicious but it is.


My stomach is rumbling.  I might need to make my mother's "sandwich" for lunch.

What about you?  Anything you love to eat that by all other accounts should be repulsive?  Do share.

THREE THINGS:
1. cousin sleepovers
2. long chats with sisters
3. short church

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Why Christmas

Nativity (Brown) by J. Kirk Richards

About ten years ago, Alan made a comment that solidified my entire testimony.

Jesus Christ was either the Son of God or the biggest deceiver to ever live on Earth.  There is no in between.

I believe that Jesus Christ was and is the Son of God. Many beautiful world religions esteem Him as a Prophet. He was not a prophet nor a noble man that went about doing good.  He is the King of Kings, the Prince of Peace, the Lord of Lords, the Messiah.  He descended from His throne above to be born in the humblest of circumstances.  He lived a perfect life and cried for all men to "Come Unto Him."  He never claimed to be anything but the Son of God.  So, He either was or He was not.

Mild He lays His glory by
Born that man no more may die
Born to raise the sons of earth
Born to give them second birth

For me, the miracle of Christ's birth is not just the divine conception and the humble delivery.  The miracle is that Jesus Christ, the Only Begotten Son of the Living God, chose to come to Earth to give the countless billions of His brothers and sisters hope and opportunity.  Without His sacrifice and life, our entire existence would carry little meaning.  We would be doomed from the beginning with no chance for redemption.  He gave us that chance, those chances, that interminable hope.

The miracle is that He Lived, He Died, and He Lives Again.  And so can we.  That is a very Merry Christmas, indeed.   

 Merry Christmas, mes amis!

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Mary, Mary had a little baby

Be It Unto Me by Liz Lemon Swindle

I have delivered four babies.  I have been pregnant for nine months (or more!) on four separate occasions.  Each time I knew exactly what had happened to get me there and I had a good idea of what was to come.


I had books to read, doctors to visit, plenty of food to eat, and an excuse to kick up my feet if they were swollen or tired.


Four times I drove to the hospital where doctors and nurses waited on me and my newborn to make sure we were comfortable, healthy, and content.

***

I have been to Bethlehem.  I have seen the terrain through the Jordan Valley from Nazareth.  I have climbed Mount Tabor.  I did not walk the entire 70(+)-mile journey Mary and Joseph took, but I do recall complaining at what I did walk.  And I was not pregnant.


I, also, was not a young girl with the weight of the world on my shoulders and the Son of God in my possession.  I was not walking or riding for seven days across rocky terrain and sleeping in tents.


I can only imagine how Mary must have felt to be so exhausted from such an arduous journey and then to feel the unfamiliar and difficult pains of the beginning of labor.  There was no place clean, no beds nor private rooms.  She might have delivered her baby in a stinky stable cave or in a caravanserai courtyard filled with tethered animals, surrounded by rooms filled with travelers.   

***

I declare my awe and utter respect for a woman who was barely a teenager when she bore her first child.  A woman who showed her humility and faith to God's plan and meekly said, "Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it unto me according to thy word." (Luke 1:38)

I am grateful for Mary, the mother of Jesus.  I am grateful for her example of obedience, humility, and purity.  

Merry Christmas Eve.

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Things I Believe, Christmas Edition

The Christmas Season reminds me of the things that I truly believe and that make me the person I am today.


I BELIEVE:

1. that baking pans SHOULD be black and crusty.  That means they are well-seasoned, not dirty.
   
   
2. that the family member with the most Christmas cards is the most popular.
   
   
3. that even if you don't eat red meat, you should suck it up and make a ham for Christmas Eve.
   
   
4. that football season should end in November.
   
   
5. that the pounds gained from a week (or two) of gluttonous eating will easily come off in two days.
   
   
6. that Santa gets too much credit.
   
   
7. that gift cards tell the receiver EXACTLY what they are worth.
   
   
8. that # OF LIGHTS + COLORFUL DECOR (x # of rooms decorated) = how fun you are.
   
   
9. that socks and toiletries do not belong inside the stockings.
   
   
10. that hot chocolate, movies, and everyone getting cozy in blankets is near to heaven.
    

I believe.  

Can I get an AMEN?


THREE THINGS:
1. frozen fruit
2. indoor heating
3. finding sweaters that were once lost


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choklava

It is nine pm and I can smell the syrup simmering on the stove: water, sugar, honey, and orange zest.  That smells like my Christmases I spent as a child in Greece.  You know, if I had ever been to Greece.  Which I have not.  But I imagine that this is what Greek children smell at Christmastime.


Last year I didn't make my annual batch of baklava.  I don't remember if I made any treats to bring to neighbors.  What a weird month last December was.  I can recall moments, but not much else.  I remember on Christmas Eve we weren't prepared to have a classic dinner, so I made turkey meatloaf, green beans and mashed potatoes from a box.  And I still had that facial paralysis rocking half of my face.  I remember we were laughing about some lame knock-knock joke I had heard about Santa eating reindeer poop (classy, I know).  For kicks, I put my napkin over the functioning half of my face so all the kids saw was my serious, faulty side.  Then I would switch the napkin and they'd see how hard I was laughing on the side that worked.  


Good times.


This year I have tried to make some of my favorites again, but no pressure.  I made some suckers, double chocolate mint cookies, cinnamon almonds, peppermint brownies, failed almond toffee and now choklava.  What?  You've never heard of choklava?  

A few years ago I was making my PANS of baklava and had some leftover phyllo dough (or fillo, whatever) and some time to kill, apparently.  So I made up a half batch of baklava with chocolate and almonds instead of walnuts.  Alan geniusly dubbed it "choklava" and I am sure someone overheard us, copied it, sold it around the world and has made millions from it, because apparently it is not as unique as we had thought.


But I still claim it as my own.  And this year I decided my ONE pan of baklava would be choklava.


Great story.


Not so much.

I wish I were my own neighbor!

The smell is ridiculous.  I paused mid-writing this post to pull the pan out of the oven and pour the orange-honey syrup all over the pieces of flaky heaven.  Maybe I burned my tongue trying to taste a little piece.  It will be mine soon enough.  It's too small to give away and I HAVE to try it to make sure it is OK to give to neighbors.  Right?


So this Christmas hasn't been the most action-packed, sunrise-to-sunset, chock-full of holiday happenings.  But it has been full of little joys.  And a lot of fantastic.  I feel like I will be happy and fulfilled when it comes, and a little sad to see it end.  


Really, though, last year I wasn't even sure I could have a Christmas this wonderful again.  Seems like a silly thought now.  I wish I could tell Ahhnna 2009 that Christmas 2010 would be great.  I know I would have been happy to know how great it really has been.


THREE THINGS:
1. no more need for a store until MONDAY!  woot woot!
2. snowy mornings
3. full tummies

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I just like to smile; smiling's my favorite

Four more days, people.  It's coming quickly.


I realized yesterday that I haven't watched very many Christmas movies this season.  There are some that I watch every year and laugh along mainly because of the memories. 


Put 'em on my To Do List.


Here are my TOP TEN Christmas Movies:

1. Elf
2. A Christmas Story
3. White Christmas
4. The Grinch Who Stole Christmas (original cartoon)
5. A Christmas Carol (the newer animated one)
6. The Nightmare Before Christmas
7. Christmas Vacation
8. Home Alone
9. Rudolph (original stop motion)
10. It's a Wonderful Life


And since the snow is snowin' and the wind is blowin'
I've got my love and enough movies to keep me warm.


Did I miss one of your favorite Christmas movies?


Three things:
1. caroling in the snow with a professional accordion player(!)
2. Alan home
3. I finished Al's parents' gift!  woop!

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act like you're 80

Something akin to an epiphany occurred in my dense mind last week.


A discussion was being had about how individuals (typically women) tend to belittle other women who either are interested in differing activities or who are in a stage of life recently passed.


For example: You like to sew quilts in your free time.  I like to read and write.  I tell you that although it is so great that you can quilt, I simply don't have the time to do it.  You, on the other hand, say that you wish you had so much free time as I do to read such frivolities.  And then I say that it is nice that you choose to cut coupons to save money for your family, but I could never feed my children such processed foods.  Then you tell me it would be nice to have a blog like mine, but it is an invasion of your and your children's privacy.


See?  Cutting each other down because we don't do the same thing.  Finding fault with something that someone does because we have not chosen it ourselves (or perhaps feel a little guilt for not "doing it all").


As for those comments and helps for those who are in a stage of life you recently passed: I have little kids and a messy home.  You have grown children and a clean home.  Lacy has a newborn and a new tiny apartment.  Lacy feels like it can't get any harder than right now with a baby who doesn't sleep, a husband who is at school and work all of the time and a tiny apartment that they can barely afford each month.  I tell Lacy that it is so nice to only have one baby, things only get harder when you have more kids and more space to fill with furniture to try to keep clean.  Just you wait.  You tell me that I should enjoy my kids while they are young, just wait until they are teenagers, and then you have to deal with college.  I really have it easy now, so enjoy it while it lasts.


It's a one-upmanship that happens to us every decade or so of our lives.  We thought we had it all figured out THEN, but NOW we are so much wiser.  We should tell everyone that is in the situation we were in THEN how it only gets harder/easier/more expensive/more emotional /more stressful /sadder/happier/etc.  But really we are just projecting.  It never makes that person feel better.


And I think this happens to us almost every decade of our lives.  Comparing and belittling to justify our own choices and lives.


Until we are 80.  Somehow it seems like most women GET IT at 80.  That's when they really have it figured out.  They've experienced it all.  They know what life is really about.  They are at the end of a life filled with happiness and sorrows and they understand what we currently all think we know.


What do these 80- and 90-year-old women say to Lacy, you and me?  Do they tell us that it gets easier or that it gets harder? nope


They smile at us and tell us that we are doing a great job.  They compliment our children.  Eighty-year-old women say that we are beautiful and our kids are adorable.  They say that your boys are so well-behaved.


And you feel better.


80 years of knowledge to share and instead they pass on acceptance and confidence.  Because they know that those are the things we really need to hear.  Life is a struggle anyway.  We don't need to give other women lectures on what we have learned in our 2, 5, 10, 30 years that we have on them.  We don't need to be shot down because our interests are different. 


What we all need is to feel like we are sisters on a journey.  We need the support without the unsolicited advice.  We as women need to act like we're 80 and smile at each other and say how great the women around us are doing on this journey. 


That's all.  A smile and a compliment.  That's what we will eventually understand as the more important life lesson to share.


By the way... you are really doing a great job and I think you are truly marvelous.




THREE THINGS:
1. best friends from AZ
2. new friends in SLC
3. new kids in my primary class

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Not a Finger!

want one of these awesome owl hats? click here. she also sells frogs and bears and more!

Are you feeling the Christmas crunch or is it just me?  I was feeling pretty cocky a few weeks ago.  I had my big gifts bought, Christmas cards ordered, the kids had already seen Santa, the house was decked-orated.  I was feeling almost done and pretty proud of myself. (see: me patting my own back)

No longer.


I'm going slightly bananas.  Just slightly.  What I had planned for Alan's parents is not turning out.  And I don't have much more time to get it to turn out.  I was also planning on making one of the boys' presents and I haven't started yet.  I bought the materials the first of November, so it's not like time WAS an issue.


Here's the deal: My kids only get THREE gifts at Christmas.  One is from Santa and the other two are from Mom and Dad. It all began when my friend told me about the owners of a company she works for (who also happen to be one of the wealthiest families in the US of A).  These wealthy folks only give their kids THREE presents at Christmas, because that is all the baby Jesus got.


I admit, initially I scoffed at this a bit.  (I tend to be a scoffer when I think people try too hard to bridge the religious and the secular.  Come on, people.  You should know me by now and this should not be a surprise.) I was impressed with their restraint when they could easily buy hundreds of gifts.  Good for them, I thought.


Needless to say, the more I thought about it, the more I liked it.  And for the past four years, we have done the same.  (Except, in full disclosure, I don't explain it away as being the same as the precious gifts given to the Baby Jesus.  I still believe that the kids should know about Jesus without it being affiliated with them getting paltry presents from a bearded man that enters their home through the chimney and eats their food.)


So, I do believe that Santa has taken care of his presents for the good kids in our family. Then there is a gift for the whole family (like video games, etc) and an individual gift from Mom and Dad.  

The boys are getting a homemade gift from Mom.  Did I mention that I haven't even made them yet?  And that they could potentially be super lame?  And that when they see what all of their cousins get that they will bow their heads in shame and disappointment?


(think Ralphie when he discovered that Little Orphan Annie's Secret Decoder Ring was a "crummy commercial" and you will see the future I fear for my boys)


But at this point, what else would I do for them?  See?  Bananas!


Are you going at least a little crazy with Christmas only EIGHT DAYS away?  Please?!


THREE THINGS:
1. A Christmas Story.
2. "naddafinga" (my favorite line EVER)
3. hair straightening iron

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ashton equation

A little math for your morning:

FOUR stitches in the chin

Poor little Ash Man.  Once the numbing cream set in, he was a total champ.  

I wouldn't be a real Mommer Bloggy if I didn't share this important moment in our lives.


Today is Costco.  Yes, all glamor, this life of mine.


THREE THINGS:
1. my mother being in the vicinity when someone needed to hold Ash down for shots.
2. another valid reason to postpone the laundry
3. the early morning with snow and twinkling lights on the home.

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what the hay, for real?

What is the deal with my homemade suckers getting worse with every batch I make?  The first ones (cinnamon) were a beautiful red and spicy.  Good job.  

And then the pina colada (which were supposed to be coconut, but the dram was empty) were supposed to be white.  But the white coloring ended up being solid and that doesn't work.  So then I put in some blue which magically made them green and then sprinkled with edible sparkles.  

And the third batch is Root Beer which I always make green, obviously.  They look brown.  OK, whatever.  That will work... this time.


But the fourth batch was going to be red with glitter and we decided that Raspberry Lemonade would be a delicious fourth.  Would have been.  It smelled delicious and the glitter looked fantastic.  But it looked awfully orangish-brownish, like burnt.  It was no longer red at all.   


After a quick taste, my suspicions were confirmed.  BURNED!  Goners.  Sayonara, raspberry lemonade.

What in the world?  My most expensive candy thermometer is a big, fat fail.  boo!  I'm ticked.


Also on my mind, what the WHY and how do all of these bloggers have husbands who quit their jobs (I count 8, at least) so that they can help out while the womens get them blogs done?

I'm sorry, what?

Why do they need FULL TIME help with their blog?  I mean, it would be great to have the ol' husband home all day to do the laundry and provide comic material for tomorrow's blog post... but really.  My questions are: WHY do you need them around for your blog writing?  and HOW much stinkin' money are you getting for writing your blog?  and WHEN will it end?  My guess is sooner than later.  Because I'm a hater like that.  Sorry, Charlie.  You aren't going to be the coolest cat in the blogosphere for very long.  That's the way it goes.  It's a fickle online world.


And then when your men have to find real jobs... what? Their professional resume will say what? ahem.


Mark my words, when this blog starts bringing in the cash (so, like in March or April), Alan can start counting down the days to quit his job and then he BETTER BE WRITING THE NEXT AMERICAN NOVEL!


~End rant.


THREE THINGS:
1. one batch of suckers being successful
2. major sweating from a hard workout
3. a new, good book

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French Bread on the Brain

photo source

Yesterday I explained how I prefer french bread over chocolate cake and ice cream.  I prefer it over almost everything, actually.


I like to take a good chunk of cheese and shove it in the middle or dip it in olive oil and balsamic vinegar.  It's heavenly.


But, see, I have a problem with good, artisan bread when dipped.  I pour myself a little bowl of oil and balsamic vinegar (O&V) and tear off a chunk of bread.  Dipping happens, as does eating.  Without fail, I will run out of O&V before the bread is gone.  I pour more O&V.  I run out of bread with O&V left in the bowl.  So I tear off more bread.  And then the O&V runs out, so I make more.  But then the bread is gone.  Et Cetera.  Before I know it, I've eaten my weekly allotment of bread in one delicious sitting.


And then I wonder why I cannot lose weight.  Which then reminds me of a conversation I had with myself once.  (what? don't act so surprised)  I imagined I was talking to my "doctor" as to why I cannot lose weight.  This was our dialogue:

Me: Doctor, I don't know why I cannot lose weight.


"Doctor": Tell me about your diet.  What do you eat every day?


Me: I actually follow a very strict, wholesome diet.  I eat healthy 90% of the day.


"Doctor": MmmHmm.  I see.  Your problem is that you are eating for 90% of the day.

And then I cue the drums... Bah Dum CHHHH!

Yes, this all happens in my head and yes, my imaginary audience thinks that everything I do is art and hilarious.

What? You DON'T have conversations with your imaginary doctor?  I won't believe it. It's totally normal.  My imaginary psychiatrist told me it was.


THREE THINGS:
1. all the kids at FREE COOKIE Monday said thank you AND Merry Christmas!  WOW!
2. a friend who sends perfume!
3. perfume that makes me smell like a rock star (who is also a SAHM)


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CHRISTMAS MUSIC FTW

The winner of the Christmas Music CDs (ONE and TWO) is

Ellen!  Email me your address ASAP and I will send you the CDs ASAP.


As for the rest of y'all--interesting choices of food.  CJ, you cheated, by the way.  Hamburger OR Bacon, not both! 


Amy, I actually DID eat a piece of bacon over the weekend at the massive brunch Maggie and I had for her birthday.  I couldn't tell if it was delicious or nasty.  I think the grease seeping from every millimeter made it supremely unappetizing. That, and the fact that I was on my third plate of food (no, I didn't finish all of them).


Why did I even ask you this question about revealing what food you would choose and the one you think I would choose?  Mainly because I am so interested in you.  Even those of you who don't respond to my queries.  (boo!)

Also, the idea came to me as I was making Maggie's birthday cake.  She wanted chocolate cake with chocolate frosting and chocolate chips (my girl).  As I was tempted to sample a little as I was frosting it, I spied the loaf of artisan french bread sitting on my counter.  It was on its last day of deliciousness and I imagined myself pouring some olive oil and balsamic vinegar into a little bowl and dipping my heart out.  Then I thought about the mint chocolate chip ice cream in the fridge.  Decisions, decisions.

(Rhett's cake, but you get the idea)

Hands down, I chose the french bread.  And it was good.

I thought, "I need to share this self discovery." And in the Ahhnna spirit of "enough about me, what do YOU think about me," I wanted to know if you could guess as well.  Most of you did.  Bravo!


Except, even better: if you are ever in SLC, UT, make sure you get a kouing aman at either Les Madeleines or Caputo's on 15th.  It will [almost] literally knock your socks off.  It is a hamburger, french bread, glazed donut, bacon, and croissant all in one!  


So, hooray for all of you!  And hooray for Ellen!  And hooray for french bread!


Three things:
1. long, hot showers
2. falling asleep while watching movies, cuddled with big Al
3. nap time for the boys


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christmas music is the best and worst

Did you know Johnny Mathis is black? I recently found this out. On our LP, he was very fair-skinned.

I've had a goal this last week to listen to our Christmas music playlist all the way through, in alphabetical order.  So every day as soon as we all wake up and as long as we are home, we have been listening to them all on my iPod.


I am very blessed to have so much music. iTunes tells me that we have 718 Christmas songs, 2.35 GB, or 1.6 days of continuous play (so 38ish hours).  That's a whole lot of Noel.


I had the goal so that I would actually listen to all of the songs, know what we had, and spread around the love.


It's been a mixed bag.  Being in alphabetical order has brought the most pain.  For example, when it is on a particularly horrible album (Hello, Disney's Princesses Sing Christmas!), I have to listen to the whole thing at once.  Oh boy.  Thurl Bailey was particularly hard (sorry, Nick) as was Old Navy Holiday Rhythm 1998.  I can take Celine Dion and Il Divo in small doses, but their entire album causes nausea.


Otherwise, it's been fun.  And enlightening.  


Let me tell you, though, because of it I have been able to put together a really great and horrible mix CD.  The songs you love to hate, the songs you wish you never heard, and the horrible songs that you secretly love.

And one of you can WIN IT!  If you win, I will also send you my 2010 Christmas album (a really great one, if I do say so myself). So, TWO MIX CDs for Christmas are up for grabs.

Answer the question below in the comments and I will pick a winner on Monday afternoon, so I can send the CD on Monday (and you can listen to them NONSTOP for the last week before Christmas).

QUESTION (answer twice, #1 for your favorite and #2 for what you think is my favorite):

Regardless of diet, calories, or restrictions--if you could choose ONLY ONE and eat only the item that you choose tonight, which would it be?

A. chocolate cake

B. french fries and Wendy's Frosty

C. carne asada burrito

D. ice cream sundae

E. hamburger

F. artisan french bread

G. bacon



anna

Nine times

weren't you just three?

Maggie:

How are you already NINE? Nine years old? Niner. Nine Times. Nine so Fine. Nine?!

It's the night before your birthday and I can hear you in the next room screeching into your pillow and dancing in your bed.  You are so excited for your birthday that you can't fall asleep.  It makes me smile, although I wish you'd get some rest.

I gave you the option of having a friend party this year or going downtown with me for a Girl's Night at the hotel.  I am still surprised that you chose the night with me.  And very flattered.  I am also excited to spend time with just you, my little best friend.

I don't know how I got so lucky to get you for a daughter.  When I see how tender you are and kind, it makes me realize that I better step it up as a mother to help you reach your potential.  I have a feeling that your potential will be magnificent and prodigious.  Part of me doesn't want you to grow up any more and the other part cannot wait to see the incredible woman you become.

Smart comes in all forms, Mags, and your intelligence is so different than mine, your father's or your brothers'.  I am baffled at what you know and can figure out.  Don't be discouraged by school--you are smarter than you give yourself credit.  But your unique intelligence is beyond the grades you will ever get.  Be happy with who you are and what you have been given, because it is magnificent.

If you didn't know it already, I think you are swell.  I am grateful for your life and that you are such a big part of my life.  I couldn't ask for a cooler, funnier, kinder, prettier, more helpful, radder only daughter than you. I love you tons, chicken buns.

Happy Ninth Birthday!

Love, 

Mom

THREE THINGS:

1. Maggie

2. Margaret

3. Mags

a

Christmas wish list

Oh, yes.  It's that most wonderful time of the year when I share with you what I WANT for Christmas.  And although everyone who would possibly get me anything for Christmas has already done so, I still think there might be one or two of you out there with holes burning in your millionaire pockets that want to do something for li'l ol' me.  Perhaps.

It snows here.  I think these would really UP my cute factor as I play with the kids in the snow and trudge around delivering treats.  Don't you?  Here, in chili red, please, size 8.
 

I also LOVE this shirtdress.  A lot.  I love a lot of the clothes from the CANVAS division of Lands' End.  I really dig this jacket, too.  Just get me a shopping spree-sized gift card to Canvas.  great

These sheets make me very happy.  Size KING, por favor.

This screwdriver is amazing.  It is perfect for odd spaces, which ends up being a lot of things.

Peacock blue wingback chairs, studded. (here, or custom)

This scent, or any thing that is new and fresh.

cow art by Roz.  I love these cow faces.

I've loved this home for a long time and it is for sale.  Hooray!  


Thanks in advance.  You always make my dreams come true.


THREE THINGS:
1. playing basketball with J and A (I think I must have an indoor sportscourt in my new dream home)
2. puppet theater
3. black leggings


a

farewell friend

My favorite friend is moving. (Don't worry, you are my other favorite friend.) 


She is moving tomorrow.  Not down the street, not across town, but to another state.


I am sad.


She has taught me how to better serve, how to OVER serve, how to wrap a present, and to not feel ashamed when your emotions are pure and you need to cry.  She has been my friend for just over a year, but I feel like we've been friends for a lifetime.


She has also taught me how to gracefully lie when someone needs it.  She is the first one to tell me that I am crafty, smart, pretty, and thin!  Can you believe anyone tells me I am thin?  It's no wonder I love her so.  She is the best kind of liar.


I will miss her terribly.


Being left behind stinks.  Leaving is harder, though.  So I hope her travels are safe, her new home is hers soon, her children adapt well, and that others see how wonderful she is quickly.  I would love if she started some sort of a blog so I could keep up with her life as she has promised to keep up with ours.


{side note: everyone out there that thinks you feel like you've kept up with me because of this blog, but you don't blog/update/email: SHAME ON YOU!  I have no idea what's going on with you and I CARE, too! So email me/update/something!  love and hugs}


Boo! to moving friends.  Hooray! to new opportunities for said friends.  Woot Woot! to awesome friendships that will last no matter where we live.



THREE THINGS!
1. $5 whole chicken at Costco (totally free range and no antibiotics, I am sure)
2. super glue
3. sharing smoothies with Rhett

a

no offense

(you can buy headband here.  No offense to the baby.)

My Maggie has recently added the phrase "No offense" to her growing vernacular.  She uses it when she realizes she is about to make a disparaging and "offensive" comment.  But somehow it makes it OK to say in her mind.

"No offense, Mom, but I really think your hair looks better straight.  No offense." (said as we are leaving the house and my hair is undeniably CURLY)

"No offense, but the lunch you made today was not very good."

Et cetera.


I try not to laugh at how hurtful she can be.  I know she really doesn't intend hurt, rather she's just figuring out how to express her honesty.  And I love her.  


Wouldn't it be great if we could say whatever is on our mind, add a "No offense" and nobody would take offense?  Man, I could really abuse that one.


With that in mind...

NO OFFENSE, but I do not believe you lost all of your baby weight by ONLY either breastfeeding or "chasing around the kids." No offense, but I think all you eat are Full Bars and Diet Coke.  No offense, but that's totally unhealthy.


NO OFFENSE, but I think your baby daughters are going to grow up and really resent you for putting those gargantuan flowers on their tiny heads.  No offense, but I think you are going to really regret it as well.


NO OFFENSE, but even though you think you look really cute in your workout clothes, when you go shopping in them after the gym it is NOT cute.  No offense, but it makes me gag a little thinking of your sweaty, gym-germed self touching the cart and all of the produce.


NO OFFENSE, but white stitching on jeans makes me think of the beginning of the recession.  That makes me sad. 


NO OFFENSE, but the word is NOT "ANYWAYS".  It is "ANYWAY" and I might scream if you keep saying "ANYWAYS"!!  But, totally, no offense.

What would you say if NO OFFENSE could be taken?


THREE THINGS:
1. kids that say thank you when they get FREE cookies
2. puppet shows
3. that my children think spinach and flax in smoothies is normal and good!

a

rejection at its finest

I sent an "article" a couple of weeks ago as a possible guest post on a website for LDS women.  Since I have not heard back, I assume it was REJECTED (which is something I am getting used to, literary-wise).  I have had a strong feeling to post it here and to not change it, although some things are faith-specific and not all of you wonderful people believe the same as I do.  Alas.


I hope your weekend was wonderful, I hope you read it in the spirit in which it was written, and I hope you find some time today to love something about yourself.


{ahem--end of intro}

Being overweight is not as glamorous as people think it is.

What? You DON’T think it is glamorous to be overweight? Weird.

It is pretty fantastic, though. You know, being me. Perhaps I could lose a few pounds. Perhaps isn’t really the right word. I ought to lose a few pounds for health and longevity. That whole “run and not be weary; walk and not faint*” is not just a promise, but also a goal.

I will.  Eventually. When I stop caring so much about THOSE jeans and THAT swimsuit and THOSE cookies. It is inevitable that I will lose the pounds when I stop focusing on that number on the scale, those ten pounds, that number on my clothing tags. The time will come and I will eat my healthy food, I will follow the (entire) Word of Wisdom, I will practice moderation. It’s how I ought to be and how I want to be.

But, get this: I wanted this body. Long ago I was just a spirit—a lovely, hopeful spirit. And I wanted a body like my Father’s. I fought for it. I rejoiced in the idea of it. I am pretty sure I wanted it so badly that I didn’t have stipulations.

My waist needs to be 24 inches around, I need to be perfectly 68 inches tall and everything needs to be in ideal proportion. Otherwise, I’m not going!

Oh yeah, it also needs to work fantastically and at optimum performance for the entire 104 years that I will be using it. Or no deal!

I knew it wouldn’t be perfect, but I wanted it. What was perfect then, anyway? Maybe it was exactly what I’ve been given. Perhaps.

Whatever the case, it is uniquely what a loving Heavenly Father has given me. I have made the (delicious) decisions that have lead me to the slightly softer middle. But the overall shape, the height, the tiny nose, the big green eyes, the lesions on my brain, and the arm that occasionally lags: those are all mine. Imperfectly perfect. They are my journey.

And, get this: When it is all said and done, this body is just a fancy, glamorous covering for the real me. The part of me that is most important and beautiful is the part I want people to see, anyway. I have to ask myself too often: what part of me am I spending the most time and energy trying to beautify? Should I spend that time resenting and hating each imperfection of my mortality into time spent learning, sharing, serving, singing, praying, helping, aiding, creating, holding, laughing, hugging, scrubbing, writing, kissing, smiling, aiding?

That whole idea of  “you can’t take it with you” is usually associated with money, worldly possessions, and such. But this fancy covering of our true selves—our body—is not coming with us either. Not really. We’ll get our bodies “back” at that glorious day and we will rejoice. The body I get, though, will not ripple with bulging muscles because of the twenty hours a week I spent at the gym. It will not feature those fantastically long acrylic nails and the expensively cut and colored hair.

My body will be gorgeous. And perhaps it will look exactly like the person underneath. The time that I have spent in this life making my spirit beautiful is what will show in the forever and eternities.

I love this body because I wanted it and it was given just to me. Best gift ever, to be sure. I need to show gratitude and respect it. But I also need to realize that it is going to whither and fail. My body is not really me.

The real me? I’m working my way to gorgeous.

THREE THINGS:

1. the book of Jonah (so short, so simple)

2. a dishwasher (the machine, not the husband)

3. YOU, who reads my rejected drivel

a

FINALLY

I want to be as cozy as Rhett and all of those other lucky babies in their comfy pajamas.


And now, I CAN!  And you can, too!



Merry Christmas, Happy Hannukah, Happy Holidays, MES AMIS!

a

no way to one

IMPORTANT: For those of you who signed up for the AWESOME gift exchange, please email me your home address at ARZABUD at MSN dot COM.  The sooner the better.  Thanks.

One year ago on Saturday my baby was born.


No words.


It seems like just yesterday...

 Hello, Baby Rhett!  You were so little, yes you were.  

 ONE YEAR LATER: 

HEY, KID! Does your Mama let you out of the house looking like such a mess? (10 points to whomever can guess where this photo was taken)

 And I cannot believe that only one year ago I looked like this:

And now just look at me:

What a difference one year makes.


Love your buns, Rhett!




THREE THINGS:
1. crossing off lists
2. friends for my kids
3. people who put their Christmas lights up before the snow storms (made our light drive more fun)

a