Isn't maturity supposed to make us smarter?

The scriptures teach that we should be like unto a little child. There is an often quoted phrase, "Out of the mouth of babes." Well, here is one.


Last year, liberal voters in California fought for a change in what was to be accepted as a marriage. The law states that marriage is between a man and a woman. Many voters wanted to change that to allow same-sex relationships to be recognized as legal and binding. This was presented in the form of "Prop 8". The First Presidency admonished all members of the church, one of the very few times I have ever heard the Brethren take a political stand, and fight against this Prop to protect the sanctity of marriage. As you can imagine, this sparked many conversations among the children and especially when there were many liberals, even same-sex couples, at their school. Karsten and I tried to be as open and frank as we could with the kids.

It was amazing to me how the litle ones reacted. Let me clarify.  When I say "little ones" I am referring to the younger ones of the whole clan.  These "little ones" ranged from age 5 to age 10.  They are too young to understand the ramifications of this bill. As far as they are concerned, they see the physical differences between a man and a woman, they have the example of their parents, and what they have been taught. Their understanding of the "facts of life" are very simple and elementary. There must be a man and a woman. No questions asked. Why then do adults, who are supposed to be more mature, have such difficulty with this basic concept? I loved Elder Packer's talk at conference when he gave the example of the child telling the teacher how to tell the sex of the ktiten.  ". .  .  there are those today who not only tolerate but advocate voting to change laws that would legalize immorality, as if a vote would somehow alter the designs of God’s laws and nature. A law against nature would be impossible to enforce. For instance, what good would a vote against the law of gravity do?"

But, I stray from what I originally wanted to write. Logan, my 10 year old, was very confused with the issue. As only he can, he asked, "Mom, if there are two males trying to get married, who decides which one wears the dress?" Very plainly and simply put. As young and naieve as he is, Logan still gets it. Oh that we could all be as little children.

Age, experience, technology, education. All important in their own right. But when it clouds our understanding and makes us question the simple laws of nature, we are the dumb ones. Not the children. They get it!!!

What is a friend?

My favorite, almost, 15 year old and I were talking today about friends and what constitutes a friend.  There are "church" friends, "school" friends, "going-out" friends, "talking on the phone" friends, "see every once in a while" friends, and there are your "confide everything and will always be there no matter what" friends.  I'm sure, by definition, one of these is an acquaintance but does anyone even use that word any more?  Kind of like the word "love".  So over used it has lost its true significance. 

For example, if you take the "facbeook" definition of friend, anyone that you invite to share in your daily ramblings is considered a "friend".  I'm beginning to think that with facebook, texting, etc. the definition of "friend" has evolved into someone we can share whatever we want as long as we are concealed behind technology and emotion is removed from the equation.

My favorite, almost, fifteen year old asked me who my friends are.  A valid question.  She has been noticing a separation between herself and some of her friends.  Different schools and interests are a few of the contributing factors. Part of growing up.  People fade in and out of life.  But who, then, is a true friend?  Are their different levels of friends?

I will admit.  According to many definitions of a friend, I am a terrible friend.  I am not one that will call and chat on the phone.  I don't spend a lot of time on facebook.  I don't text.  I don't call people up and arrange to meet them or spend time together.  I don't send out many e-mails.  I am terrible at sending cards, whether birthday or holday.  I forget everyone' birthdays.  I guess you would say I don't have any friends.

For me, the word "friend" is special.  Let me give you an example of my favorite friends.  These friends are my confidants.  The ones I can share my joys and sorrows and I know the info, if confidential, isn't going any further than their individual brain cells.  On the flip side, they are ones that can share with me and I don't feel like I have to share with them.  I am never judged by what I say or feel.  I am never judged for my mistakes.  The relationship doesn't change because of lack of communication, distance of location, health, or other factors.  These special friends are my family.  My husband, my siblings, my parents.  I love these friends.

What would I then call all those other wonderful people in my life that I talk to and spend occasional shared moments?  That is a good question.  By defnition, they are more than an acquaintance.  I need a new word.

Emotion.  I think that is what keeps me from labeling all as friends.  Maybe that's it.  I have "emotional" friends and "non-emotional" friends.  No, that doesn't sound right.  Yet, it does have a ring of truth to it.  I guess a friend to me is someone who truly knows me and one I have allowed to truly know me.  Hmmm.  That is something to think about.

Well, however we all label all those people that are important to us, here is a big "thank you" to all of you.  Even if I don't talk to you forever or forget birthdays, etc. I'm thankful for all those important people in my life that influence me in some way.

Yesterday's thin is tomorrow's fat

I'm tired of being fat.  "Fat?" you say, "Oh, give me a break.  Fat between your ears."

No, really!!!  I can prove it.

If I look at a doughnut, I gain weight.  If I sniff a brownie, I put on weight.  If I even THINK about a cookie, I gain weight.  Dang it!!!!  There goes 5 pounds.  Let me show you what is the "new" sexy.

 Okay, so in REAL life, I thought this person was pretty slender.  Obviously, not enough.

 Just when you thought lipo was enough.  Now you have to not only shave your legs, exfoliate said legs, buff them, oil them, and then if you even THINK you can put these pants on, guess again.  You need a shoe horn!

Are legs supposed to go into those things?  Oh, I get it.  The shirt covers the upper part of the body that can't fit in those things.  I now understand the "pants down around the lower butt" look.

I personally like the look of that painting years ago of the voluptuous woman looking over her back at the camera.  She has "meat" on her bones, has a few roles, and is still sexy and happy (I'd search for that picture but I'm too scared of what will come up).

How come those of us who have had a real life meaning having had kids, not exercising hours in the gym, no chef, no money to have all body parts altered, etc.  are considered "fat" and not sexy or desirable?

Well, I flip my nose at all of you's. AAAWWWW, who am I kidding.  I fight the bulge, deprive myself of a few calories, hit the gym more than is healthy, pinch my fat, and wish for smaller numbers.  I'm going to dish up another bowl of ice cream.

Mental entertainment!

I read one of my sister's blogs (you're missing out if you haven't read it) about books and the garbage that writers feel is necessary for the "enrichment" of their masterpieces.  And, let's not forget the visual plethora that continually competes for our attention and the garbage the media is flashing before our eyes.

I will be the first to admit that I really like (okay, maybe "like" is too tame) a good, intense, action-packed, novel that keeps me guessing until the very end.  I enjoy action movies and ones with a little punch.  What I don't get is the writers', authors', editors', producers', or whatevers' need to fill the pages and screens with filth and degradation.

I once read a quote that said using profanity (and I will include sex and pornography) is a sign of limited intelligence.  How does that grab all you, so-called, intellectual elite???  Can't think of any other words to define a mood or emotion than foul language?  Can't think of any other way to show physical emotion other than sex and pornography?  Can't think of any other way to portray conflict other than blood, gore, & violence?

I was reading a "teen" series by an author and really enjoyed it.  Lots of suspense, action, drama, etc.  And guess what???  No language, sex, detailed violence or crude references!!!!  Imagine that!!!  Thinking the author would be someone I would enjoy on a more "adult" level, I purchased one of the author's books that was considered to be for adults, instead of young adults or teens.  I sat myself down, eagerly turned to the first page, turned to the next page, flipped through the pages of the first chapter, got up and threw the book away.

Apparently, adult reading, or viewing, means the author can now use foul and vulgar language, crude references, and sex.  Wait a minute.  I thought becoming an adult meant being more mature, gaining more knowledge, using that knowledge intelligently, refinement, respect, professionalism.  You know, all those adult things.  If I had of known that being an adult was the same as being in the locker room when I was a teenager, I would have stopped right there.  Look at all the time and energy, not to mention money, I wasted getting more education, refining and improving myself.  Boy, what a smack in the face for all you people that consider yourselves "professionals" in whatever field you are in.  You got duped!!!!  All that money you thought you were putting in to get ahead.  And look where it got you.  Right back in a teenage locker room.  Feeling smart?????

I'm sooo glad I realized my mistake before I continued down this path of waste.  I'm an adult.  I get to smoke, drink, take drugs, read smut, use foul and vulgar language, read and watch blood and gore, read or look at pornography, etc., etc., etc. Young people, no need to go any further.  You've already made it!!!

I wonder what would happen if being an adult meant, no need to use foul or vulgar language, respect for others, intelligent conversations that don't revolve around sex, no satisfaction in reading or watching explicit violence and accepting it as entertainment, moving past the need for alcohol and drugs to make someone popular or "relaxed", respecting the human body (male or female) and not being caught up in the "wearing less and showing more means 'more mature'".  I could go on forever.

Alas, I have come to the conclusion there are very few real adults out there in the vast human population.  Most of these are children and haven't realized they have already surpassed the older generations.  The other group are those of us who decided to leave our teenage and young, adult years behind us and move on to bigger and better things.  Here's to being a REAL adult.  Grow up world and join the party.  We're having a lot more fun than you are.

9-1-1, S.O.S., Help me!! - you get the picture.

I am a terrible blogger.  I think of all these wonderful things to post, great words of wisdom, funny anecdotes, etc., etc.  Pull up "Blogger" and immediately hit a blank.  "Nope, nothin' in my noggin'."  LLLLOOOVVVVEEE that movie.

So this is a 9-1-1 to all you gurus out there.  I don't have the time, energy, or quite frankly, the desire to spend countless hours trying to figure out how to format my blog.  Yes, I'm one of those that feels entitled to instant gratification and feel it is your duty to share your wealth of knowledge with me.  After all, they say the rising generations are smarter than the last.  So, cough it up!!!!  Respect your elders and HELP ME!!  Oh, and before I go blank again, keep it simple.  Remember, I'm running on a "DOS" brain here.

4th of July!

So thankful I live in this country.  Not perfect, but wonderful still the same.

A HUGE thank you to all the fantastic men and women out there putting their life on the line for our freedoms -- past and present and future.

17th Anniversary and the Redding Rodeo. Yeah!!!

Okay, now I know what you're all thinking.  My house is a rodeo, with a number of clowns, and how could that be exciting on my Anniversary?  'Cause you got it wrong.  My house is more like the zoo or circus and I LEFT my house and went to the rodeo.

For years I have been trying to get my better half to take me to the rodeo.  I love the rodeo!  It was one of my favorite things to do when I was younger.  The Ravalli County Fair, seeing how many times you could spin in the Zipper and not throw up (just thinking about it makes my insides turn upside down), and the Rodeo.  Of course since I was, and am, such a cowgirl, I was an expert of the sport.  Loved those cowboys, wranglers, and bulls.  Redbluff, just 30 min. south of us, is one of the major stops on the Pro-bull riding circuit. 

Before you get too excited, we didn't go to Redbluff.  But, we did go to the one here in Redding.  This one is, of course, smaller but a lot of the cowboys use this rodeo to add to their points and experience.  There were quite a few Pros in the bunch.

I was so excited I was jumping out of my skin.  We went on Thursday night, which was Family Night, and got fantastic seats right in the middle of the stands.  I was telling Better Half  this was a perfect spot because we  could see "everything".

Out comes the first bareback rider.  Well, that was kind of boring.  He didn't even fall off.  The same with the next and the next.  I thought 8 seconds was hard to do.  These guys were making it look like child's play.  In fact, it was the same with the saddle broncs.  Man these guys weren't any fun to watch.  I mean, half the fun was watching the cartwheels and gymnastics as the guys were flipping off and over the animals.  The only gymnastics were the ones by the Redding Daredevils (I think that was their name).  They were doing all sorts of nonesense on their horses as they were galloping around the arena.  Like Grandpa Recht once said, "I could do that (or jump that high)  if my tights were that tight, too."

The bull riding.  I was ready for some action.  Who were these guys?  I mean really.  Only one guy even got close to being skewed by a bull.  There was no major flipping, trying to run out of the way of the bulls, or even dirt on their wranglers.  What a disappointment!!!  At lease only a couple actually made the 8 seconds.

And the animals.  Where did they get these pygmies?  I remember the animals being so much bigger and, of course, meaner.  I mean, they had to be in order to rid themselves of their riders so easily.  These animals must of had "gentle juice" or something.  I could have "rode" those animals and I don't even live on a ranch.

Did you not get the event?  Oh, let me tell you again.  It was the Redding Pro Rodeo.  What???  What did I miss??? These guys were pros??  Weren't they pros in Ravalli County???  They seemed like it to me.  Well, no wonder everyone was chearing for them when they got high scores instead of booing them because they didn't fall off.  I think there is something wrong with me when I was looking forward to the animals having the upper hand. 

It was fun, they were GOOD, glad we went on Family Night instead of "beer" night, yelled and cheared right along with the best of 'em.  Can't wait for next year!!!

The club and its phases of life.

I love to go to the club and watch the generation gaps between the Yearlings, Bucks, and Stags.  And, of course, let's not forget the Caterpillar, Cocoon, and Butterfly.  No matter which room or activity you are involved in, the play of nature is always the same.  Especially during the Spring and "new beginnings" when the animals begin to shed their outer layers and try to use up the fat stored for winter.

Let me illustrate.  In the weight room, the Yearlings are the ones that are strutting around, doing more strutting than actual lifting . . .  . unless a caterpillar slithers by.  They are the ones in the latest fashion accessories, flexing when they think their being watched, and if they get the chance . . . . off comes the shirt.  They don't have any horns to speak of yet, but it doesn't stop them from tossing their heads and challenging the more mature.  Some of them have definitely eaten well with their shiny hair and rippling hides, but lack the confidence to mingle with the elders.

Now you have the Bucks.  Undeniably these are the ones that have emerged from the "immature" phase and have entered that "middle, can't quite get it right" phase.  Clothes are still somewhat coordinated and in fashion.  The Bucks spend a lot of time lifting and grunting in between checking themselves out in the mirrors trying to convince themselves they still look like Yearlings.  They blow their horns loudly, stamp their feet, and make a good show.  What they lack in hair and hide, they try to make up for in huffing, puffing, sweat, and the telling of "When I was. . . . "

And then you have the Stag.  He is regal, sure of himself, doesn't bother with the young ones, and is basically there for himself.  His clothes don't match and he doesn't care, the hair is usually a mess, he doesn't strut for the insect varieties . . . . but smiles at everyone . . . . realizing he isn't a Yearling and looks ridiculous trying to act like a Buck and will probably die trying.  Enjoys the flattery, but moves beyond it.  Love these guys!!!

Not to be outdone we have the other species of life, which begins with the Caterpillar.  Oh, yes.  She is primped, primed, and stamped with approval.  Nothing is out of place from her shiny attennas, her fancy outfits, down to her bristling fur.  Her job is to bring Yearlings and Bucks out to play.  Activities are usually done with one eye on the mirror and lots of smoothing and grooming.  Lap swimming is where the greatest performance takes place.  Each Caterpillar works to outdo her competition.  They jump in the pool and try not to mess up their antennas or fur.  If any are brave enough to actually pretend to swim, their minimal outfits don't allow for all swimming strokes or even a pace quicker than a slow slither.  They are good!!!

The Cocoon is very similar to the Buck.  Kind of in hybernation, not wanting to be a Caterpillar anymore . . . basically because she knows she can't . . . . and trying to be dignified as she moves toward Butterfly, kicking and screaming all the way.  Outfits are still more on the showy side than practical, but it doesn't quite make it.  After all, no one wants to admit they've outgrown their first set of colors.  More interested in prolonging the onslaught of the Butterfly, the Cocoon spends a lot of time sweating, then making excuses for why the antennas are drooping, fur is dull, and colors are fading.  The Cocoon still smiles at the Yearlings, realizes they can't pass the Bucks, and avoid the Stags like a plague

The crowning jewels are the Butterflies.  They are marvelous creatures.  They spread their wings and fly.  Not only have they matured to the fullest, they are not afraid to show it.  If the antennas are not quite straight or shiny, that's okay . . . . they'll just wilt with the bodily exertions.  If a comb doesn't quite make it to tame the fur, that's okay . . . . a hat, ponytail, other interesting gadgets, or just leaving it as morning greets them is just fine.  There is no pretense as to the purpose of their visit.  Their outfits are very practical, if not commical.  If they "don't have it", they don't care and aren't going to hide it.  They are lovely and each one is unique and beautiful.  Their job, of course, is to keep the Stags from hurting themselves and add balance.

Today, my Butterfly was emerging.  I had the outfit, my nails were done, I walked with a little pluck in my step, and . . . . I'd forgotten to do anything with my fur.  I'm one of those that it takes all night for my fur ro reach such magnitude and splendor.  Half of the fur still looked like I was still in bed and the other half looked like it was trying to run away.  I certainly didn't pull it off with the dignity of a Butterfly, but spluttered right along with the best of them.  I'm a Caterpillar living in the body of a Cocoon and in complete and utter denial that I will EVER turn into a Butterfly!!!

I ran away!!

Now, I can't say that my destination was paradise, but then again, being alone sure helps.

I called my prince charming yesterday afternoon and told him I was renting a hotel and running away.  My kids were asking, "Why, Mom?"  I squeazed each of their little faces and said, "You are one of the six reasons I'm going."

I wish I could say I did incredible things, but I painted my nails, slept, read a little, slept, took a drink of water, slept.  You see the pattern.

I came home this morning to a nice clean house.  Prince Charming definitely knows what I need.

I do feel bad for him though.  Can you imagine being called at work and told your spouse is "running away" for the day?  Poor guy probably thought I was going off the deep end and not coming back.  Well, I did go off the deep end, but I went with a life perserver attached to the bank.  Can't get too far!

For the record, I love my family, I love my kids, I love my husband . . . . Sometimes I just have to take a breath.

The NERVE of my mother!!

I have decided to blame my mother for this one.  After all, it IS her fault.  She started it, she made me do it, she made me do it again when it wasn't right, and now I can't get away from it.  Every year it comes back.  Every year I run away, but it doesn't.  Every year I try to ignore it, but it won't be ignored.  Are you getting the picture here?

So here I am, at that point again.  I cry, I sweat, I come up with a million excuses, and in the end . . . . I always give in.

Darn this spring cleaning.  Mom, how could you?  How could you have taught me such a valuable skill?  How could you have made cleanliness such an important part of life?  Couldn't you have cared about me just a little less?  Couldn't you have let me sleep in just a little longer on those days?

So, here goes to my Mom.  I'm blaming ALL of this on you.  Thank you for loving me enough to teach me.  I love the smell of a clean house.

She's emerging . . . . but only just a little.

My "little" girl is venturing out.  My soccer & Jiu Jitsu athlete, who thinks that wearing her brothers t-shirts, jeans, and sketchers are enough.  No makeup, no hair done, slap on a hoodie, and we're good for the day.  Quite an accomplishment in its own right, considering pajamas would be the wardrobe of choice.

Along comes the stake dance.  Oh, it is a "church dress" one.  "Do I have to wear a dress?  This is so lame.  No one is going to dance."  Over comes her best friend -- who, by the way, is as girlie as Shania is a tomboy.  Polar opposites, but uncannily so close in appearance they are confused as sisters.

Giggling, talking, walking back and forth from the bathroom to bedroom  . . . . this continues for an hour.  "Mom, will you show me how to put on coverup?"  "What do you think of this outfit?"  "How about this one?"

Five outfits later (I thought this only happened in the movies), makeup on, final mirror check, dance card in hand, my beauty heads out to the car.  Now, the saving grace in all of this -- as I was trying to figure out how to put a perimeter fence around her without having her wear a tacky dog collar --  the primping and pampering stopped at the eyes.  The hair didn't quite make it.  Sigh!!!  That was a good "sigh".  I still have my "little" girl.

Give me soccer shorts, Jiu Jitsue Gi, baggy pants, and hoodies . . . .  I'll take whatever I can get.  Just stay away boys . . . she can't date until she's 21.

Diet & Exercise -- just rip my brain out through my nose!

Yesterday, eggs caused cancer.  Today, it is a necessary part of your diet.  Protein was needed to break down carbs.  Now, if you have too much you can get cancer.  Sugar is essential for energy.  Too much, or the wrong kind, and you get Diabetes.  Take your vitamins.  Don't take your vitamins, your body can't process them anyway.  Body needs fat to survive.  Lose all the fat or your heart won't survive.  Brush your teeth in the morning, evening, and after each meal.  Don't brush your teeth too often or you'll cause problems with your gums.  Eat six small, balanced meals.  It doesn't matter when or what you eat, just eat the right amount of calories.  You need 20+ minutes of cardio per day for a healthy heart.  Exercise too much and your body goes into survival mode.  Use deodorant to control body odor and sweat.  Don't use deodorant because sweat is the natural cooling system of the body and deodorant can cause cancer.

When does it ever end?  Has the world not learned that if given the right circumstances, almost everything is either good for you or bad for you and can or cannot cause cancer?  When do we get to choose for ouselves and take responsibility for our own choices?  Obviously, some things are beyond the lay person's comprehension -- especially when they use all those big words to describe what is in food or products.  But, really?  Do you  have to tell me that hot coffee is hot?  Do I really need to be reminded everytime I eat a bowl of ice cream that this has been known to cause an elevation in fat? 

Common sense people.  Now, what we really need is a "common sense" TV channel or Internet site where people can go and learn common sense or at least look it up.  Or maybe they should just call me.  I am overflowing with common sense.

For example, my clothes are not fitting because I used the wrong laundry detergent and they shrunk in the dryer.  It has nothing to do with the piece of cake I ate.  I don't have any energy because I have my days and nights mixed up and has nothing to do with staying up late or eating foods that are empty calories (I can eat whatever I want, just as long as it is a certain amount of calories, right?)  My legs hurt because the floor I'm exercising on isn't the right kind and has nothing to do with the fact that I'm getting older and things are breaking.  My eyes are hurting because my pupils are not dialating correctly and letting in too much light and has nothing to do with the fact that I'm so tired, which of course stems from the fact that my days and nights are mixed up.

See, the wisdom I have to offer the world.  I could go on and on.  It is just amazing being in my presence.  I can't understand why someone would say, "Don't follow your mother's example, she is obviously "common sense" challenged."

Movie night

It's the famous "Jacobson Hotel".  We shut everything down, take the kids to the 99 cent store, let 'em go wild with a whole $2.00, return to home, make beds all over the living room floor, plug in a movie, and they make themselves sick on junk.  Great fun!!!

Major downside???   I get sick on the junk too and the next day is always a joy.  Sugar, lots of sugar, not a lot of sleep, and close quarters.  Big mistake on a Saturday night.  Oooohhhh, can't wait for church tomorrow.  I wonder if lack of good judgment is a good enough excuse to keep the circus under the big top.

O. of the M. -- videos

Okay, so I watched the videos and I've decided to spare all of you the eye strain.  I'm defnitely a novice of the nth degree.  Just take my word for it -- they were great!!!

Odyssey of the Mind

Saturday, Kaela and Andrew had their regional competitions.  I took some pictures and videos.  Can't promise anything, novice here.  Both of the kids' teams chose a problem in the classics, "Discovered Treasure".  The teams have a certain number of months they can prepare.  They create the skit, create the props and backgrounds, costumes, etc.  All has to be done without help from an adult (there are coaches, but can't help).  Each skit has to have certain elements, all different depending on level, etc, and can only be 8 minutes long.  Even one second after will begin deducting points.

Kaela was a rich kid and was only interested in the money.

Andrew was one of the "discoverers".

Videos are being a pain and can't figure out how to get them loaded, but Andrew's team took first in Division II and Kaela's team took second in Division I.  They are now both headed to the State competition.

Musings

Today is one of those days when I should be taking full advantage that most of my kids are gone, the weather has finally blessed us with a little sunshine, and for the moment we are all healthy (notice I said "for the moment").

I don't put away much time to check my computer activities anymore.  Not because I don't want to . . . . heaven knows I'd spend all day at it.  I have to pick and choose and my puny brain is dictating my activities.  So fun living with OCD.

This morning, in between running to Odyssey of the Mind for Kaela and Andrew, I have spent time just sitting and trying to catch up on all the wonderful happenings in other parts of my important world.  As much as I hate technology, I can't live without it either.  So wonderful on so many levels.

I live hundreds of miles from my closest sibling yet I can fire up the computer and see into her home and get a small glimpse of her kids and what exciting things they are doing.  More miles away other siblings' lives are marching right along and through the miracle of the Internet I can take a moment and feel a small part of their lives.

Love it and hate it.  Technology helps us stay closer, yet it also allows us to live further apart.

Super Bowl Party. What's that?

All throughout the week the kids have seen advertisments for the Super Bowl, parties, and goodies.  Conversations went something like this:

Kids:  We want a Super Bowl party.

Mom:  Do you know what the Super Bowl is?

Kids:  No, but we want a party.

Mom:  It's on Sunday.

Kids:  That's not fair.  Everyone else is having a party.  How come we can't?  What is the Super bowl anyway?

Mom: It is a professional football game.  It determines the champion of all the teams.

Kids:  Ooohh, cool.  Who are you going to cheer for?

Mom:  I don't even know which teams are playing.

Kids:  We'll find out.

Off they went to the computer and chose teams.  Four for the Colts and two for the Saints.

We had tons of food.

Party style.

Comfy seats for the viewing.

And, after an hour the kids had eaten all they could eat, were thoroughly bored, and couldn't figure out what the hype was all about.  I couldn't have planned it better myself.

Why food???

Ooohhhh, look at all this mouth watering morsels of goodness that you can put in your body to sustain life.

If only whenever I cook it would turn out like this.  Yum!!!  Is is it really that yummy???

Now this looks yummy.  This is what I NEED to sustain my life. 

I'll even take it in this form. 

Better yet, I like this one!!!

Okay, now it is your turn.  Pick up the phone, call, and send me my chocolate!!!

This is what happens on a Saturday night in Redding

Life gets boring around here.  It has been raining, can't get out and play, and I became the excitement for the evening.

If you think this looks like fun, you should see the end result.  Wish I could give you a picture, but I'm still trying to get over the shock!!!

Let's be honest -- Happy New Year

I'm sure there is a spot in heaven dedicated to all my great intentions of sending out Christmas cards.  I even decided that if I couldn't get one out at Christmas, I'd just title it my New Year's Letter and no one would be the wiser.  Now I have the dilemma of trying to figure out when it is too late to send out the New Year's Letter.  Rather than stress myself out any further, here are the pictures we were going to send.  Enjoy!!

It's only hair mom

There is a rule in our house.  Well, it's not really a rule, but more an unspoken agreement.  It began when the Queen of the castle decided that hair was an artist's canvas and over the years filled her portfolio with all sorts of combinations of styles and colors.  It grows, it changes color, it can be cut, it can be styled, and so on and so forth.

I think I'm pretty tolerant of hair.  Of course, I do draw the line at some things, but for the most part . . . . have fun.  After all, it is only hair.

Keeping that little nugget in mind, my offspring #1 decided her hair had to go.  No problem.  Her best friend's sister cuts hair.  What could possibly go wrong?

I think I need to be more specific on the unspoken agreements we have around here.

Too tired to go to bed!

from: palmettobug53.

Just to let you know how incedibly tired I am, I can't make this stupid thing  align to the left.  And, of course, it is the machine that is stupid.  Don't even think it!!!!

Ever been so tired that you can't think straight, can't walk straight, can't focus your eyes, can't stop moving or will fall over, catch yourself staring blankly at nothing and wondering how long you have been like that, sure there is something you should be doing but can't seem to remove your behind from the couch, etc., etc.?

That would be me!!!  I want to go to bed sooo bad.  Go to bed!, you say.  Well, slight problem.  If I retire to my bed at this hour, I will wake up at 3:00 a.m. and heaven knows I don't want to be up at that ridiculous hour.  Oh, but you can get so much done.  The kids will be in bed, the house will be silent, I won't have to interrupt my "whatever" I'm doing to help out my ingrates.  Think of the possibilities.

NO, NO, NO, NO!!!  I want to go to bed and sleep for 8+ hours without interruption.  I want to lay down on my pillow, close my eyes, and dream of ocean waves and sandy beaches.  I want to fall asleep with a smile on my face and no thoughts pushing and shoving for attention.  I want to feel the calm of the night air and the stillness of slumber.  I want to spend the complete night wrapped up in my favorite blanket.

Oh, fabulous bliss!!!!  Where are thou, bliss????  Can you hear my pleas????  STOP IGNORING ME!!!!  You're as bad as my kids. . . .

Self-sabotage & obssessions!

How many times have you been asked, "What is the purpose of life?"  And how many times have you reached into your Primary memory banks and smartly replied, "The purpose of life is to gain a body and live life in such a way so you can return to live with your Heavenly Father."  Text book question and text book answer.

I have come to the conclusion that this is not my purpose in life.  I have tried to conform, but no matter how hard I try I keep getting slingshot back to reality.  See, my life has its moments of peace.  I mean, things are really moving along nicely.  That must be my mistake.  I get comfortable and complacent.

When, bam, my little, pea brain begins to stir and I panic.  Life cannot be this pleasant!  There is something missing!  What did I do wrong?  Then the anxiety kicks in, the hyperventilating, looking over my shoulder, checking everything more than once, pinching myself to see if this is a dream, and finally coming to the conclusion that I need complicated.

Such a moment has occurred.  I couldn't leave well enough alone.  NOOO!!!!  I had to go and throw everything away.  I'm going to stay up at night, sweating, and wondering if everything is okay.  I'm going to be crawling around on my hands and knees randomly sniffing the carpet for evidence of foul play.  I'm going to be checking cupboards and all the contents before I shut the doors to make sure there isn't anything in there that doesn't belong there.  I'm going to be demanding silence and straining my ears in hopes of hearing the appropriate scratching noises.

Why must I always create chaos???  Did I not have enough gray hairs?  Is my scalp not itchy and flaking enough?  Do I not have enough excuses to indulge in pounds of chocolate and then agonize over pounds of flesh?

But there I was behind the wheel of my car, travelling an unfamiliar road, parking at an unfamiliar house, smiling and trying to act sane to an unfamiliar face, and then carting back to my car . . .  not one . . . but TWO unfamiliar kittens.  And, to top it off, they are male.  WHAT WAS I THINKING???????

So to that simple question of what is my purpose in life comes the simple answer -- to find anything and everything I can think of that will end my moments of peace and thoroughly drive me further and further insane.  And, I will have you know I am succeeding fabulously at my purpose.