running away....

to the in-laws. for they have internet. hot water. food in the fridge. and places to walk without running into boxes.

i am not running away to a new house. for we are stuck. in a packed house. ready to move. yet our buyer's paperwork is lost in some huge pile of other paperwork. only to surface for signing when the mortgage company feels it necessary to work through the paper.

so we wait. and survive. on little. and i shower quick. in cold water. and wear the same 2 pants that are not packed. and hope that i don't have to unpack. because that would just be moving in the wrong direction.

missing my bed.

Here's to our flowerbed. Handpicked and planted before we had kids. And now a bit overgrown. Full of perennials.

I'll miss the happy, curvy curbing. The blue oat grass, the tree shrub (looks like a tree, but is actually a shrub - our own Charlie Brown tree), and the allium.

Purple, pretty allium.

We planted 3 bulbs, and were so sad when only two came up. This year? 10 blooms. TEN!

house envy.

Lehi has awesome houses. Not mine. Or many of the new ones. But old, beautiful, my grandma could have lived there houses.

Every time we drive through the older neighborhoods, I stare. And try to catch the details. um, yeah. it's not very safe when I drive.

I've been meaning to post my favorites here. But kept putting it off. Worried that people would freak out if they saw me photo-ing their abode.

Today I threw caution in the trunk, and did a few drive-bys. In no way all of my favs, but you get the idea.

Did you see those front windows? I love them. And the garage? Take a closer look at the garage.

Yeah. Awesome.

Um, red door? Yes! And please note the ivy growing over the arched gate on the left. Hello romance. Don't you want to get married under that arch? In proximity of that red door? Me too.

---------------

And my dream house. My absolute favorite. Across from a park. Enclosed in a white picket fence. And FOR SALE!!! Where was that sign one month ago? Why am I moving out of Lehi?

Check out those trees dripping with leaves. And please note Anne. That's right. with an E. Can't you see her? Right there. In the yard. And Gilbert. On the other side of the fence. Eyes locked, the music builds as he opens the gate, rushes to her side and picks her up in his arms. They twirl in the breeze.

I swear I saw it. In my periphery. As I drove by.

Just look at that door. And that porch. Perfection.

*sigh*

sacking the cul-de-sac.

Goodbye to watching the world from our driveway.

We've seen a lot in this circle.

Pitt bulls forcing us inside, swat teams swarming our yards, police enforcing evictions.

And now. things are calm. yards are in. dogs are gone. potato bugs rule the roust. and everyone just does what they need to do.

A few weeks ago, our neighbor transported us to Italy as he sat on his porch, playing on his accordion. And I knew our little cul-de-sac had made it to a peaceful place.

I guess that means it's time. No more fearlessly running into the street. Clin. It's someone else's turn now. Our future is straight.

leaving.

It's time to say goodbye. To everything I love about Lehi. Four days left. So this week, let's focus on what I'm going to miss.

And to my Lehi friends, I just can't go there. I mean - I can't even say goodbye to you. No offense. I just can't even. So here's to the surroundings, the feelings, the everyday awesome.

Like the view.

I'll miss the cows. and the fields.

Lehi taught my girls the difference between sheep, horses, cows, and goats. I'll miss seeing babies in the spring, talking to the animals as we drive by, and always having an excuse to moo.

hiding....

shhhh. make not a sound.

I'm in the pantry. Listening to Millie scream. Instead of nap. Eating chocolate covered cinnamon bears. (thanks YW.)

I'd share, but then Millie would find me.

don't tell.

passing along the happy.

This made me happy. Very happy.

Thank you Design Mom for making me happy. We should all have an old piano to paint. Grass Green.

Joy.

sensing something new. and old.

Tonight I spent one hour at a senior piano recital. As in high school senior. Not citizen senior. and it was perfect. in many ways. I was by myself. in the back row. and able to dip into my own thoughts without interruption.

thank you classical music. a place I don't visit as often as I should. or used to. and i was reminded of how i used to feel. intimately knowing a song, fingers running without thought. only sense. touch. eyes closing. because to play in the dark is to feel the music. and to think the feelings. loosing worry. or functional thought. living through the sense.

cathartic experience that it was. i closed my eyes and was lost. like i used to. only not playing. listening. wishing i was playing. wanting lessons and feelings again. and calm. tears began running. and i blubbered on. grateful for peace. and music. a time out. and a release.

photo via Hryck

broken.

I told you I was on the verge of something. Just waiting for it to happen. Perhaps this was it.

How is it that someone weak, like me, can break 2 weed eaters? I don't think that is physically possible. And yet, it has happened.

The first disintegrated in my hands. Melted right through my fingers. Repair was not an option.

The second, most recent, froze on me. And I assumed repair was possible.

Until I took it apart.

And nothing would go back.

So please. release me from my weed eater dungeon. I need something that will not disintegrate. That I can easily re-string. That will trim the grass around the fence and house, as well as edge my lawn.

I am desperate. Because we are starting to look like a jungle here.

And deep down I would love to leave it for the new owners. But that's not how I play the house swapping game.

Suggestions? Anyone?

fat.

Is it sad that when I go to this website, I salivate?

It is sad. Very, very sad.

And who invented totchos? I'm completely tempted to try. They can't be any worse than tator tot casserole. Right?

Other intriguing specimens:

The Bulldog
Deep Fried Cadbury Creme Egg

Vomit Inducing:

Sausage Fatty
Corn dog Casserole
The Porkgasm

ready to defrost.

Maybe it's the recent emotional temperature. but I've got a hankering to defrost. And the physical ritual of working on a freezer may symbolically satiate the soul.

Which means that I need to salvage a bit of creative inspiration to utilize the freezer contents in the next couple of weeks. No more grocery shopping. It shall be freezer eats for us all.

Currently on my list:

1. Café Rio - love this recipe. It makes enough that I freeze half.



2. Pad Thai - Costco style
   
   
3. Tator Tot Casserole - I have all the ingredients. But it seems that I am the only one that likes this. How is that possible? Who doesn't love tator tot casserole? Anyone have a good recipe for this? Maybe I need a new recipe.
   


4. Chicken Salad Sandwiches - I have lots of frozen cooked chicken. AND lots of frozen croissants... Problem: they have been in the freezer a long time. And probably taste more like the freezer than France.



5. Chicken Ceasar Wraps- More cooked chicken. AND tortillas
   


6. Orange Chicken, Rice, and Edamame - Costco style. Again. But almost through with chicken and edamame. That will free up some space.
   


7. Meatballs - We may be eating these for an entire week. But I am determined.
   


8. Popsicles - I think we will all enjoy these for a couple of meals. And they will meet our fruit requirement. Right?

photo via hypersapiens

angry...

i've been angsty. and angry. a lot lately. and whenever i get this feeling, i just want to beat something up.

...like a pillow. or a blanket. because i'm pretty much a wimp.

i remember feeling this way in college. one night. after play rehearsal, i ended up walking home alone. at about midnight. i had the alarm that judy gave to me in case i found myself in this exact situtation. but i didn't pull it out.

i walked quickly. and kept thinking, not tonight rapist. don't even attempt. and if you do, i will not allow it. i will so hurt you. bad. really bad. because i am not in the mood. not even. so bring it. i dare you to even try.

because in my angst i get numb. and feel a bit of the outer body in my thoughts. looking at them as if they don't really effect me. judging them as if they don't belong to me.

and can't hurt.

dreaming.

Maybe it was the batch of no bake cookes that I ate. by myself. (and no, Amy, I'm not talking about the healthy kind). But I've been having crazy dreams.

In one prominent dream from last week I caught Clin holding hands with Tanya.

Who's Tanya? A friend from the high school years. Who still lives in Oregon. The only contact I have with her is through Facebook. And this past week I was impressed when she reported that she ran 16 miles. At one time. Awesome.

Back to the dream: They were sitting across the room from me. Clin was caressing her right hand with his right hand underneath his left arm. An attempt to hide it from me. So I speak up, "Hello. I see you. You're holding her hand. I'm sitting right in front of you."

He acted like he couldn't see or hear me. And everyone else in the room (did I mention that the room was full of people?) tried to ignore what was happening. After I spoke up he didn't move his hand. And so my volume grew louder as I continued to speak and wave my arms at him.

And I felt angry. but empowered that I was calling him out. and standing up for myself.

So. What does it all mean?

photo via h.koppdelaney

top chef.

Friday night we partied at my house. Mia Maid style.

The ward held an auction a couple weeks ago. The money was to go partially to girls camp. So the Mia Maid's needed to auction something. I threw out a candle lit dinner for two.

It sold.

And Friday we delivered.

A ten course tasting menu. (I say ten, because we made ten things. But it was actually served in 8 courses.) Originally planned for outside. In a park. But the wind forced it inside. Which was a good thing. Simplifying everything.

I was unsure if we could pull it off. And we were using mostly recipes that I had never tasted before. But it went smoothly. No food poisoning. Lots of smiles. No 14-15 year olds complaining. Only laughter, fun, and a lot of hard work.

It was a success.

The following is a taste of the night.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Amuse Bouche: Soupe de Mûre
Ripe blackberries stewed with lemon, cinnamon, cloves, and cream.

Herbe Fromage Mariné
Ripened goat's milk cheese, red onion, and fresh herbs. Served with rustic bread.

Salade au Concombre et À-l'Oignon-Rouge
Cucumber and Red-onion Pickled Salad

Asperge avec la Sauce de Moutarde Crémeuse
Steamed Asparagus in a Creamy Mustard Sauce

Orange et Crevettes Grises grillées de Thym
Orange and Thyme Grilled Shrimp

L'épi de Maïs avec le Tilleul et le Beurre Fondu
Corn on the Cob with Lime and Melted Butter

Citron et Purée de Pommes de Terre de Cabriole

Lemon and Caper Mashed Potatoes

Steak Mariné Doux

Balsamic Marinated Steak

Sandwich Crème Classique

French Vanilla Ice Cream within two thin layers of chocolate

Mousse de Mûre

Blackberry Puree in Vanilla Cream

Here's the awesome couple -and my dear friends the Harpers. I will miss them greatly in the move.

An action shot of some of the young women pre-meal. I should have taken a post-meal photo. There was no counter space, or clean dishes.

It was a lot of work. But one of our best activities. I would say that we did amazing with the food service, and absolutely awful on keeping up with the water.

Oh.

And it ended up candle less.

I couldn't find where they were packed.

inviting you too!

No time for tears. Not today. Only anger. A happy moment last night (thank you Office) turned to angst, and anger. THANK YOU Appraiser. I would like an opportunity to appraise you.

That's right. You heard me. I went there.

And today is filled. with inspecting the pottery barn.

And tonight? Only a 10 course tasting menu that the Mia Maids are throwing for a lucky couple who bid at the ward auction. Pictures to come.

so that you, too, can join in on appraising me. and my life.

itchin'.

me. right now.

on the verge of something. I can't grasp. and the shaking won't stop.

perhaps it's tears. or 5 almost tears.

I've been searching the box junket. Resigning myself to free boxes, since movers will be taking our money. (Pay! for movers? AH!) But we have a piano. And it is probably best that it not be moved by me. or Clin. or anyone. but a professional.

Yesterday I followed a craigslist lead and showed up at the house just as someone was loading all boxes into her van. That's okay. They weren't that great. And we saw some sheep.

But I'll tell ya, freecycle? craigslist?- boxes go fast.

So I then attempted Wal-Mart this AM. Evidently you can take whatever boxes they set out. First come thing. So I got there at 5:55 AM. Testing it out. And as I walked to my box rendez-vous ....I didn't see any. (Verging tears #1) And I thought how crazy. to get up at 5:30 for nothing. I turned the corner and hit shopping cart pay dirt. One whole cart full of Malt-O-Meal boxes, all collapsed and ready for my trunk.

one employee said: I'd take those straight to your car, if I were you.

Warning heeded. And I ran to the parking lot. Suspecting everyone. Leary. Why else do you go to Wal-Mart at 6:00 AM?

Then, home, I offered to make Clin a nutritional breakfast. Because that's the wife I am. He refused and ate a healthy pop-tart. So I packed leftovers for his lunch and promptly dropped them on the floor. (Tears #2)

And it is now evident that he would prefer me in bed at such hours, so that his morning person can actually accomplish life without the extras brought about by my non-morning psyche.

Millie awoke, happily, to the commotion. And I tried to talk her back to bed. Why are you out of bed, mom? Why was I? Why? So the day began. Knowing that her morning euphoria would not last. (dam holding back tears #3)

9:00 AM - out to mow the shaggy carpet we lovingly call our lawn. And to let the girls bask in springtime bliss. 9:10 AM - lawnmower won't start and I can't remember where to spray the fluid to get it to start. So I spray the whole thing. 9:15 AM - (tears #4)

At least I can weed wack. Right? That is something I can do. On my own. My one ability of yard work empowerment. But the cord won't pull. It's stuck. I can't even get it out of the machine. (brimming #5) Forget empowerment. Forget self reliance. Forget knowing how to do anything.

I spray the dandelions.

Put Millie on her bike. You will ride your bike once a day. And you will like it!

Riding: I like it mom. Look! I like it.

10:15 AM. Time to shower. or cry.

photo via Ryner12

two.

Ellis is two. And I love her. Lots. Because she gets hyper when tired. And loves to make everyone laugh. Especially Millie. And she is tough. Like when she lays down on the ground and Millie steps on her arm? She doesn't cry. Or make a sound. And the only reason I know it happened? I had a visual. She's compassionate too. Because when Millie went screaming and whailing to the bathtub for time out (new strategy), Ellis cried too. For Millie.

Oh. and she still takes the small piece of fringe from her favorite lion blanket, and smells it to help her fall asleep. Holds it right under her nose. And sometimes, when she's in the right mood, she will hold it up to the nose of whoever is in her presence. Just so that they can have some comfort too.

Favorite phraseology of late:

:: Dad, it's time to eat.

:: Mom, I love you.

:: I'll be right back.

:: Jump a jump

:: I want little Annie (as in orphan. the musical. on continuous rotation.)

:: more ketchup. please.

:: so sad.

:: I'm so mad. (grunt) I'm so mad.

:: Look at me. Millie. Look at me.

full of crap.

We've been listening to Shrek: The Musical a lot lately. Not the entire musical. Only 3 songs. The only 3 songs Millie and Ellis will allow to enter their delicate ears.

One of which Pinocchio sings at the beginning of the show with all of the fairytale characters that have been banashed to the swamp.

The song ends with Pinocchio saying crap.

The other day, after listening to the same song one hundred million times, Ellis and Millie both began to laugh each time the song ended and Pinocchio said crap. And then, the humor elevated as they both started repeating the word.

While Ellis just thinks it's a fun way to end a song (and I would have to agree) she can only say crack - which isn't too offensive.

Millie, being so taken with the word, began saying it a lot. In an effort to get Ellis to laugh. And I had visions of her blurting it out at church. or preschool, or in public. I explained to her that it isn't a word that she should say.

But mom, pinocchio says it.

True. So I explained that sometimes people say words that are inappropriate. But that we should not repeat them. That is their choice, but we should make the choice to say positive words that won't offend or hurt others.

But mom, pinocchio says it.

True again. The 4 year old had me. Pinocchio does say it. So I tried explaining again. Including that we don't want Ellis repeating such words.

Okay mom. I won't say it.

So I should probably just take the song off of our playlist. But it's a great song. And they're going to hear words like that everywhere. And, blah, blah, blah. The truth is that I'm just lazy. And would prefer not to deal with the anger that would insue from removing the disk.

After our talk, we listened to the song one more time. As it ended, Millie did not say the ending word.

Mom! I didn't say crap. I listened to pinocchio say crap. But I didn't say crap!

Thank you Millie. Way to listen. And prove that talking it out with a 4 year old totally works.

skating the Franciscan monk.

I cut my hair.

I didn't cut it. Someone else did.

But perhaps I should have.

I don't have a camera, but it looks like a combination of:













pics via jwinfred & Patrick Q