from the mixed-up files of a middle-aged mind

School's out for the summer! And that makes me happy because I love... Getting to see more of my husband. He used to work three nights a week and Saturdays during the school year in order to teach third grade. Those days ended when he got his master's degree, but he still spends long hours at the school and we hardly even see each other at all during the month of May. In fact, I found it serendipitous last Thursday when I stopped by Barnes and Noble after my quilt class to pick up thank-you's for my kids' teachers and saw him walking into Office Max for some last minute supplies for his annual Grandview slide show. It became a spontaneous 15-minute date-night at Office Max. Already by Friday night I could feel the weight he carries on his shoulders lift a little, for a couple of short months anyway. The hum of bees swarming my pillars of honeysuckle. Not having to get anyone out of bed and ready for school in the mornings. The crack of a bat in the ball park. I'm go...

My 7 Sevens List ~7 things I want to do before I die (+1) ride a harley balance my checkbook learn to play the cello finish all my quilting projects be at peace with myself finish cleaning my house learn to scat see something fabulous on Broadway ~7 things I cannot do curl my tongue wear socks be at peace with myself a four-minute mile resist wantonly posting links to Lazy Sunday bring myself to dust grow up ~7 things that attracted me to my spouse his offering of home-grown beets how he loved to dance with the wallflowers his sense of humor his generosity his "best buns in 501s" award his heart his ability to notice and appreciate the simple things ~7 things I say often "wash your hands" "so sue me" "be part of the solution, not part of the problem" "bye, luv ya" "who made you King of the World?" "no worries" "take care" ~7 books I love (+1) Riddle-Master Tuesday Next novels Anna Karinina Which I read...

This just in...a woman apparently died while on a nighttime flight and none of the other passengers--INCLUDING HER HUSBAND!--or the flight crew realized she was dead till the landing. This is one of my greatest fears. I could fall off the face of the planet and no one would know. Well, except maybe for my always starving teenager. What's on Hillary's iPod? Who wants to know? The woman obviously had no taste--in fashion, in hair design (OK, so I really shouldn't talk...), nor in men. So why would we be remotely interested in what kind of music she likes? If we just ignore her, will she please go away? Even the bouncers looked scared? Maybe they should have a disclaimer at the beginning of her concerts...? If we just ignore her, will she please go away? From my home state: A panel recently ruled that Oregon lawmakers and their staff should not be legislating while drunk. Well OK, so the fact that they actually might be says a lot. But the fact that an independent panel h...

My daughter, who's only 10, has been boy crazy for quite some time now. It is truly THE BANE of my existence. And I am scared silly about getting through the next 10 years. (Already I have often contemplated the wisdom of the Catholic concept of the convent...) Last Christmas Suze (not her real name, but short for Suzie Q) wanted to get a present for this boy she has loved for the entire school year. I didn't encourage her, but I thought something like a candy bar might be appropriate. One night, while I was away, she went to the mall under someone else's supervision (or lack thereof) and spent $30 on a $60 hoodie for her one true love. Can you say "Wildly inappropriate?" I had been home for a couple of hours before my husband casually mentioned something about it (probably anticipating, correctly, the wrath it would incur). It was late so I went in and confiscated the bag with the hoodie--making sure, of course, that she still had the receipt--and told her we...

Noon. Friday. Looking forward to it . ...and I'm taking the poor reviews as a good sign.

Congratulations to my sister , whom I've never met. She nailed the contest on both counts. And I love it that she made a trip to TJs to see the divine bag in person. Of course I didn't buy it. But I did go up and ask the sales clerk if she was sure there wasn't some mistake. After all, it was TJ Maxx. I also put it on hold for all of one hour so I could somehow almost possess it...even for a short time. And I'll always have pictures.

RE: This emotionally charged holiday--Mother's Day I have this to say: ~Inasmuch as nine o'clock church has killed any futile hopes of breakfast in bed (which has occurred on maybe two occasions in the past 17 years), I am going to stay up very late tonight (read: early tomorrow morning) to clean my disaster of a kitchen and pre mix a big batch of crepe batter. I vow to selflessly--and, most sincerely with no strings attached--prepare and serve crepes for breakfast tomorrow morning. ~Although I am generally fairly successful on most Mother's days at 1). having low expectations in order NOT to be disappointed 2). refusing to pick up and bear any guilt that may--intentionally or otherwise--be laid at my feet and 3). most especially trying NOT to lay a burden of guilt on my own dear children...it's pretty much a crap shoot on any given year how it will go. I have therefor taken a preemptive strike and had my meltdown TODAY! It's over. Whew! Tomorrow is just another da...

And speaking of all things wonderfully TJ ... Two Questions: 1). How much is this celestial bag? 2). Did I buy it? Post your guesses to both questions and tune in next time for the Price is Right!

So I was ranting to Lorien the other day and she pre- scribed blog therapy. And here it is: We are junk magnets at my house. There is something about us that just screams "White Trash" "Redneck" or "Your Junk Wanted Here!" Now don't get me wrong. I love hand-me-downs. Particularly of the clothing or furniture variety. It's almost magical. I need shorts and some dress shirts for the boys. Corrine K or Olga S magically appear with--you guessed it--shorts and dress shirts for the boys. In fact, Olga is sent from heaven, as is her sister, the rocket scientist. Until recently I have never had to purchase anything but socks and underwear for my daughter because inevitably just as I am ready to bite the bullet and drop a few too many Hamiltons (sorry, couldn't resist) for girl clothes, Aunt Arlene sends boxes of beautiful clothes--name brand and some with the labels still attached--for my L-. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you! No, I am ranting about s...

Look what they've sent to save us from the dreaded West Nile Virus epidemic. Brilliant !

Only 24 days left till the best reason I've had in a long time to party . Well, at least to celebrate and indulge in all things French. Apparently this lovely international concept celebrating French food and drink has not caught on here in the states ( quelle suprise ) and is currently only celebrated in New York and Chicago. Quel dommage! So I'm proposing a grassroots campaign amongst the chosen here in Happy Valley--in fact, anywhere in blog world--and its environs to stock up at Eliane's (because I want them to stay in business through the eternities), make your own or head on up to the overpriced but decadently delicious Melting Pot --just celebrate! L'Apéritif à la française: June 1, 2006. Plan a party. Post your recipes. Eat, eat and be merry. Bon appétit!

"Please bless the food that it will be good. And please bless the food that it will not be bad."--My six-year-old over Sunday dinner...which is as good as it gets around my house...and has never been known to be that bad. "Please bless me to not mess up my kids more than they--or I--can bear."--Me. Every day. Because I am not perfect for this job. But I'm all they got.

Saturday, 9:55 a.m. Six mid-pubescent Freshmen show up at the house in various stages of undress trying to create togas. They have just been kayaking and are due to serve a meal for some pre-prom activity for someone at 10:00. They are going to be late. "Do you need pins?" "No, I don't need any pins." I continue to observe as they continue to improvise, never having done this before. Fast forward. I see them fumbling with corsages at their own junior proms. Struggling with a new language on their missions. Looking for the right words to tell their future wives of their undying love... "Mom, I do need pins." Yeah, I knew you would. I was just waiting for you to ask. I wish I would've taken a picture of them before they tumble out of the van...dragging togas and articles of clothing as they run up to the front door of someone I don't even know. But these are good kids. I love these kids. Some of them who are not my own call me "Mom" t...

Yesterday I bought a great pair of long white gloves for my darling daughter. We are invited to a tea party tonight and we can dress up. Usually I love to dress up. But I'm having a hard time faking it today. Apparently my ability to talk the talk has run its course. I can't dress up like a princess because I really don't feel like a princess. My daughter will look great. And I'm going to really love that she looks great and that she will feel great about looking great. Although, I also know that because she is a daughter of Eve, she will be looking around her and thinking that all the other princesses look even more great than she does. And she will feel less great inside. So my today my question is this: How can I spare my daughter that horrible empty feeling you get inside when you know that whatever you are, you are not enough?

As some of you know I spend my work days searching Google. It's a great job. I still can't believe I get paid to play on the Internet. And I have learned a lot about essential subjects such as heating and refrigeration, Canola oil, incontinence and the state of New Jersey. Lately I have been working on a lot of publishing accounts and I come across some pretty skanky stuff too. Most of the time they pass the really gritty subjects to me, partly because I have fooled them into thinking I am mature but also because we don't like to scare the young and innocent. But sometimes I come across some really good stuff to know too. Which leads me to my latest discovery. Rosie the Riveter still has no time to do her hair (I can relate) and therefore has not given up her bandana. But she apparently left the factory long enough to conceive. Who knew? And now Rosie is the spokeswoman not just for factory workers, but also for all moms. In her latest book. The Motherhood Manifesto. I can...

(Warning: The following may be quite disturbing. One is alarmingly candid in the wee hours of the morning. Read at your own risk.) Damned Insomnia I (from the journal of an insomniac, March 19, 2006, 2:00 a.m.) 2 am...Well, almost. And I cannot sleep. I fell deep asleep while I was cuddling sweet Kyle to sleep, at about 9:45. Then I wake up at 11:30 and here it is, two hours and a nice dose of Benadryl later and I got nothin'! I got up did the dishes in the dark, hoping the avoidance of bright light would increase the possibilities of slumber, but to no avail. The body is exhausted, but the mind will not rest. Here's what keeping me up: Is it my fault the favorite of our four cockatiels died last night (thus two nights battling insomnia--I could tell she was on her way out but was so tired I knew I didn't have it in me to mount a death watch--so I made her as comfortable as I could and petted her and told her what a good bird she had been and what a wonderful mamma, too. ...

Is this déjà vu or a bad flashback? I feel like I'm caught in a time warp back to the 70s. The hair is the same. I think the 70s was when the term "bad hair day" originated--only it was a bad hair decade . (Here is same son when he had eyes. Note the beater car--also from the 70s--in the background. January 2006 Heap of the Month at Provo High. We're so proud.) The clothes are the same--except that we showed a little less skin and a lot less underwear. Just last month my daughter borrowed a pair of gauchos to wear at my friend's reception--that's one clothing item I truly never thought I'd see resurrected. Wrong again. (Disclaimer: Yeah, I know most all of you were mere babes in the 70s and were spared some of its worst fashion faux pas. But trust me on this one, OK?) The music is the same. It seems in decades redux past you had to suffer through remakes of old music. But now the original versions are in. I will never forget the look on my 15-year-old'...

I'm so excited. My entire family is going to see Arsenic and Old Lace tomorrow night (Thanks for the tickets, Mom)! Why am I excited? Perhaps if you have not yet experienced the joy of having two teenage boys, you might not get it. But the fact that we are all going together is a huge deal. Given all they know about the play is that it's about a couple of old women and they just have my word on the fact that it is supposed to be funny--a monumentally huge deal! How did I bribe my teenagers to join us? In addition to the usual threats, they were a little bit influenced by the fact that one of their favorite (Thanks Brother Hess!) seminary teachers is in the play. Cool. This is also one of the things I really like about living in Provo. You do have access to some good cultural experiences here and in Salt Lake City--not just for yourself, but also to entertain and enlighten your kids. I didn't get exposed to a lot of theater where I grew up. It might have been more due to ...

Despite the measurable snow and the freezing temperatures within the past week, that quintessential symbol of hope "Spring" has finally sprung. Here's what I love about spring: Those early days as the sun starts to return when, if you breathe deeply and slowly and hold really still, you can actually watch the grass grow greener by the minute. Shirt sleeves. One more example of how everything is relative. In September 60 feels chilly and moves one to grab a jacket. In March, as soon as it gets above 45 it's time for short shirt sleeves to welcome back the sun. Crocus. Daffodils. Tulips. Forsythia. Just for starters. Soon, flowering plum. I love the tangible evidence that something so apparently dead can show new life and in a big, beautiful, colorful way. I especially love how the blossoms don't shrink or bow under the fallen snow, but burst their bright shows of color up through snow with a hint of wanton rebelliousness. Tossing out the alarm clock and waking up t...

Why Rosie? Here's the story behind Rosie. It's a long story, but completely appropriate in a blog about a real identity crisis. I thrive on keeping very busy. I also like to take care of people. But a couple of years ago I tore my ACL and because they did the graft from my patellar tendon, I lost my entire quad muscle and couldn't walk at all. The rehab on a patellar graft is pretty long. And I had never experienced anything so physically debilitating--not even after spending a week in the hospital with serious double pneumonia and coming home on oxygen for 3 weeks. I felt completely useless. I couldn't do anything. And because people were so kind to take in my youngest child while the rest were at school, I was home alone much of the time. As a result, I got really absorbed by what I felt I'd lost--all the things I couldn't do--and became really depressed. I do try to be one of those people who are more tied into being than into what they do , but part of who ...