Monday, January 31, 2011

An Addendum to the Annotated Alliteration

Garden...

Here's what's popping up in the garden lately:




Gunner...
I never considered myself a "dog person". When I was growing up we had a dog here and there. I liked them enough to feed them and care when something happened to them but that was about it. Since then,  I would politely acknowledge people's dogs when they came bounding up to me--licking and smelling with reckless abandon--only because I know people love their dogs and I would not want to treat them with disdain. Or disgust. But that was before I decided we needed a dog. I thought Shane needed some unconditional love and companionship. He got left at the bottom of the pecking order in our big family and he had no one to pester and play with. It was strictly a motherly, child development decision.

 I didn't plan to get attached. But, somehow he became my new best friend--I followed the Dog Whisperer's instructions so well, I have become the Alpha to our puppy friend. He follows me everywhere and when he looks up at me with those puppy-dog eyes, it kind of melts my dog-indifferent heart. So now my favorite workout is taking Gunner for a "walk". I think we are going for a walk, he has his own plans. He used to charge up the driveway and tear through the front gate with me doing my best to keep a tight grip on the leash. He was so excited about the change of scenery, he was running and sniffing and yanking my arm with abrupt starts and stops. But this is not the way of the Dog Whisperer. I am to exude "calm assertive". I am to make my dog respect me and walk beside me. And after some hard work and a pocketful of treats, I did get him to stay near me and walk forward. But that got to be old and boring. We get to the top of the driveway and he sniffs the air. "Been there done that" is his attitude and he turns around and heads back to the house. I am determined to get him some exercise so I persist. I tug and pull and cajole until I get him a few houses down the street. Suddenly, he picks up the pace so I jog a little thinking he's ready to go. Then, the leash pulls taut and I look around to see Gunner sitting on the curb. Sitting. Like a human would--he looks so nonchalant I expect him to cross his legs and say "Let's take a little breather, shall we?"

Since I am not a giver-upper, I have continued to take him out for a walk each day. He seems resigned to it and comes along without too much trouble now. Of course, the down side of walking the dog is his need to heed nature's call. I used to watch people picking up after their dogs and feel gratitude that I didn't have to do anything so demeaning. But, now I do. I clean up after my dog because I am a decent human being and follow the rules of polite society. This means that most of the time when I am heading home with Gunner surging ahead--he gets excited when he gets back to his own territory--I usually have a nice little bag of "stuff" in one hand and a tight grip on the leash with my other hand. This sometimes causes a bit of an etiquette dilemma when one of my friendly neighbors waves at me. The hand holding the leash is not free to wave so...do you think it's rude to wave doggie doo doo at your neighbors? Or if I don't wave at all will they think I'm snobby? I guess I'll ask the Dog Whisperer.

Friday, January 28, 2011

An Annotated Alliteration

Glasses...
I recently crossed over into the Middle Age Zone. Even though I look like a 32 year old, I have the eyes of an almost 48 year old. If the lighting is really good and I hold the printed object away from me a bit, I don't need reading glasses. But if I want to read in the dim lighting of my bedside lamp and my arms are tired, I'm glad I have my Costco (they come in a 3 pack!) reading glasses.

Goodies...
Along with Middle Age comes the dreaded Middle Age Spread. It's a cruel turn of fate that as soon as you get through the child bearing years and you can sit down and enjoy a meal without a baby/toddler/preschooler/child needing immediate attention, you can't eat what you want to anyway. The metabolism slows down and weight gain speeds up--it's a bummer (literally). Since I want to be able to enjoy my grandchildren and keep up with them into my Golden Years, I have to keep my appetite in check. So, this New Year's I faced up to my main vice and gave up sugar. I've done it before and was very happy with the results. It's amazing how much it affects all aspects of health: skin, hair, energy level, blood pressure etc. For some people, moderation works. Not so for me--I seem to have no concept of moderation when it comes to sugary treats. So it has to be all or nothing. And nothing it is. It really simplifies my eating choices and silences my rationalizing.

Garbage...
This is a thoughtful gift from my sensitive husband. Let me explain. It is a symbol of his understanding of one of my quirks. I need to have one clean, nice garbage can. I use it when I am cleaning inside the house. It can sit on the clean carpet of a kid's room while we toss the flotsam and jetsam of their accumulated clutter into it. I use it when we have a big shindig--it can stand in the corner and collect all of the paper products required for a big party. Over the years, I purchase a nice garbage can, my husband unknowingly (so he says) uses it for forbidden garbage--wet, messy, construction garbage. Or yard debris. Or the dirtiest of dirt: the vacuum cleaner canister mess. (This once caused a rift in our marriage for a good 24 hours).  So just when I had come to accept it as my life's trial and magnanimously overlook my husband's garbage can desecrating flaw--he goes and buys me a beautiful, shiny new garbage can. Not just any garbage can though--this one is rectangular in shape so it looks different from the other common trash cans.   And it came with his promise to keep it clean.  He could have waited a few weeks and given it to me as a Valentine's or Anniversary gift and I would have been as thrilled as if he'd given me a diamond  necklace or a dozen roses. 
 That, Gentle Reader, is TRUE LOVE.

Thursday, January 27, 2011

An Adult Conversation

Recently in the Costco movie aisle:

Me: Oh! We need to get that movie Conception
Andy: Uhhh I'm not sure that would be an appropriate movie--I doubt Costco sells those kind of movies.
Me: Huh? Nooo! You know what movie I mean...what's it called?
      (I do that a lot--ask my family to tell me what I'm thinking)
Andy: Do you mean Inception?
Me: Yes, that's the one.
I just hope we didn't offend anyone with our racy conversation...

Monday, January 24, 2011

A Heart -felt Tutorial

I know what you're thinking: "Wait, this is not a craft blog! What is going on here?!" Truly, I am pretty much "Craft Challenged". I can think of cute ideas and maybe if I throw enough money at it I can eke out something presentable--after A LOT of trial and error.

 I actually did a lot of sewing in my time--it started at the age of ten with a garage sale sewing machine. I hemmed a lot of washcloths made from Goodwill terrycloth bathrobes (don't ask--it's just the way it was--was it Idaho? or just my wacky family? I'm not sure.) and then graduated to Barbie clothes and furnishings. By the age of 12 I was sewing pajamas for my siblings (a safe bet for them, they didn't have to wear them in public). Eventually I graduated to regular clothes. I spent a lot of time with a seam ripper but I did improve over time. My children then became the lucky recipients of my mad sewing skills. I decked them out in awesome summer shorts made of blindingly bright patterned fabrics of the 90's. (Crazy watches anyone? How 'bout roller skates?) I have pictures but I will spare them. For now.

So, every now and then I get a hare-brained idea for a lesson or activity and I knock myself out trying to make it work. This was my latest:
It was for our "Heart-to-Heart" Visiting Teaching Conference. When you are using the word HEART-FELT it is just crying out for a FELT HEART.

These would make cute Valentines too--in fact I am making some for my adorable little granddaughters. As soon as the blister on my finger heals. This little idea required the cutting of 90 heart shapes with pinking shears.

First, make a heart pattern for the felt. I started out making both sides the same size. Then I decided I wanted the back color to show around the edge. So I did a lot of trimming. I will save you the trouble...

Make a smaller heart pattern for the fabric front.

And make a medium pattern for half of each heart. I alternated between the red and pink for variety.
 Some had a pink back and red middle and others vice versa.


Stack the three pieces and sew just inside the edge of the top piece. Leaving an
opening for the stuffing.


It's easiest (don't worry, I figured it out the hard way so you don't have to) to leave the
opening on the straighter side of the heart.
I used cotton balls that I pulled apart.
Use something pointy (pencil, crochet hook, scissors)  to push the stuffing up into
the rounded parts of the heart.

 I kept it on the machine while I stuffed it and then just sewed up the opening.

When you have made your gazillion hearts, you can make the
handout parts. And then assemble everything. I just used
3X5 cards that I had on hand. I printed out the thought and
cut them apart with decorative scissors.

The little heart punch was a cute touch.

And there you go.
It was all worth it when I pulled them out at the end of my presentation
and I got a collective "Awwww"
from my Relief Society sisters.


This is the pile of Misfit hearts. Sewing around a small
heart shape is not as easy as it looks.

The Good The Bad and The Ugly

So, where have I been lately you may be thinking. Or not. Let me give a brief summary of my adventures.
Awhile back, an ongoing pain in my side finally drove me to the doctor. I don't have a problem with doctors per se, I just don't like to take time out of my busy schedule to go see one. It has to be pretty compelling for me to make the effort. At the risk of sounding like an old lady...oh wait! I am one!..."let me tell you about my aches and pains."
So, back to me and my aches and pains.  I had to get the usual rundown of my temperature and blood pressure and the cute nurse took care of that and then looked at my record on the computer. She looked  surprised for some reason and this worried me a little. She looked at me  more intently and then burst out with "I thought for sure you were 32 years old! Wow! Really, you don't look older than 32."  Now, those of you youngsters out there are going to think this is an insult. Trust me, when you are over forty (okay--pushing 50) you will look back on 32 as the prime of your life--the good old days--the PRE ache-in-your-side days. Gosh, when I was 32 I only had six kids! But I really couldn't get past the choice of number: 32? Not "early thirties? or just 30? It was kind of random, but hey I'll take it. That was a pleasant prelude.

Then, I got in to see the doctor. I was hoping for a quick diagnosis of kidney cysts. Who hopes for cysts? Someone who has had them before and been through the four hour surgery to remove them and then enjoyed a nice pain-free quality of life for a good five years. I don't mind the familiar. Better the "devil you know" as they say. But it was not to be. There was a new devil awaiting. Actually something I had been made aware of after the CT scan for my last medical adventure. During the pre-op visit the surgeon showed me my scan and pointed to my spine.
 "Hmmm", I thought. "It looks like a candy cane." 
 "You have some pretty pronounced scoliosis. Did you know that?"
 "No"
 This was news to me. I knew my children had been checked for it at every check-up and physical but that was the extent of my knowledge of scoliosis. The surgeon got back to the business at hand: the giant water balloons growing on my kidneys,  and that was the end  of that.

Until now. So apparently scoliosis lurks in the backs of unsuspecting, unchecked, people until their late forties when the spine begins to compress and bend more in the direction of the curves that are already there. This tends to press on one's innards in a way that isn't comfortable. It also twists the spine which doesn't feel so great. Then, since the backbone's connected to the other bones, they start pulling in odd ways too. It was a little redeeming to realize the reason I could never do the splits or stretch as far in ballet as the other girls. Also why my mother and grandmother's attempts at getting me to "Stand up straight" were in vain.

Nice how life has a way of keeping me humble.  I went from hearing "You look 32" to "You're going to be a hunch-backed, crumpled old woman." in one fell swoop.

PS Make sure you get checked for scoliosis. Preferably before you get old--even if you look like a 32 year old.

Monday, January 10, 2011

Our Cabin Christmas

I have been slow to get this post up...I had a lot of catching up to do after the holidays. And I started reading David Copperfield and it sort of consumed my every spare minute--and spare minutes are few and far between for me. I could not put it down. Charles Dickens bewitched me with his profuse prose. So, I'm back to the colonies and back to the 21st century...



Before we went to the cabin, we had some Christmas here in Cali.
A Relief Society Christmas party and a youth fireside called for some fesitive
decorating so we dragged out the Christmas decor and put up the tree.


 The weather in San Diego was beastly! We were actually looking forward to the
more mellow drizzle of  the Northwest.
From the wild tempest and flooding in SoCal ...
Back to the familiar sogginess of Christmas in the Northwest:

First order of business: Put up a swing.

Making the cabin a happy place for Bailey and future grandchildren.

Our Nativity Pageant
The box of costumes was in California so we improvised...
The Angel (AKA Nicole) was wrapped in a down comforter and
Mary (AKA Shanna)  is sporting a fleecy eagle blanket.

Seth was our Narrator


Sam the Innkeeper who entertained us with his improv:
"Sorry, we are totally booked tonight! Don't you know the Chargers are playing? I've got to
get back to the game. Good luck!"
After the children were nestled all snug in their beds, it was time for Santa's elves to set up the play kitchen.
It was an engineering feat.


Austin with visions of Sugarplums dancing in his head
That wore some of the engineers out.

Christmas Morning...
the magic of Christmas was all
focused on our Little Bailey. She is just old enough
to know that Santa brings presents.
And she was pretty happy with the dolly and the kitchen that he left for her.

The Gale Gang
(We were missing Tyler--he had to work. And of
course our missionary, Spencer)
The Stair Picture is usually a Christmas Eve tradition but
it kind of got forgotten in all the excitement. So
we did a quick post-Christmas rendition before the first round
of family left for home.

Since we were all together, we decided to have Seth's Eagle Court of Honor.





Bailey getting her lovely locks trimmed by Aunt Siara

No family get-together would be complete without haircuts
from our favorite stylist: Siara! She was nice enough to get
us all spiffed up with Christmas trimmings.

It was all over too quickly!
 Time really does fly when you are having fun.

Happy Birthday Scott!

 It has been awhile since I updated this little family scrapbook on the internet. I like to pop over here from time to time and look at our ...