A THOUGHT FOR THE NEW YEAR

It's not so much what's on the table that matters, as what's on the chairs.
W.S. Gilbert
1836-1911

ALMOND COOKIES

1 cup butter or margarine
2 1/4 cups flour
1 cup sugar or brown sugar OR 1/2 cup each
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/8 tsp salt
1 egg
1 1/2 tsp. almond extract

Cream butter, sugar and egg together, with almond extract. Sift dry
ingredients together. Add to creamed mixture. shape into balls and
place on ungreased cookie sheet with ample space to allow for
expansion.

Place an almond on each ball, and bake at 375 for 13 to 15 minutes.
Makes 3 to 5 dozen cookies. ( I usually get two to three dozen, but
then, I never get as much as the recipe says it will make)

HEART IS WHERE THE HOME IS

I entered the Gazette holiday fiction contest this year. I didn't win, but if you get a chance you should read the winning entry. Written by a high school girl it's a fabulous story of redemption and forgiveness; very tender and insightful.

We were supposed to write a story around a photo of an old truck decked out in Christmas lights. My entry was entitled "Home is Where the Heart Is" and it is offered below. Thanks!

**********

Mel woke up to the sun streaming in through the window. He could feel the cold seeping into his bones. He shifted, stretching as best he could knowing he’d have to get out of the truck to do a proper job of it. Stepping out he left the door open to help clear off the windows and did a few toe touches to get his blood circulating.

After living in his old rattle-trap of a truck for the past year and a half Mel had a pretty good routine down. Except for the cold weather months he was doing pretty well. Climbing back in behind the steering wheel he drove himself to a local coffee shop where he got himself a cup of coffee and a muffin for breakfast before heading over to the YMCA. Paying four dollars allowed him to have a swim and then enjoy the showers and bathrooms to clean up.

By now it was ten o’clock and he hurried to make his way to a nearby construction site where they sometimes had extra work he could pick up. Today was not one of those days.
He spent a couple of hours making the rounds trying to find some type of work but just after Thanksgiving it was a rough road.

Climbing back into his pickup Mel sat for a moment before starting it up. Yeah, he decided, it was a rough road, but he’d seen plenty of those in his 59 years, including his time in the army in Viet Nam. He’d survived that and he’d get through this. One of these days he’d get a regular job with a regular paycheck and find himself an apartment to live in instead of his truck. He’d turn things around.

Late in the afternoon he was sitting in a coffee shop having a bite to eat and listening to the Christmas music playing in the dining room. It made him think of all the Christmases he’d spent and what they’d been like. “A lot different than this one was going to be,” he told himself with a shake of his head.

When he was little his mother had made the holidays really special; baking cookies, decorating the house and even taking the time to sew his father, his brother and him special Christmas vests every year. She always started playing her Christmas records the day before Thanksgiving. Her favorite was Perry Como and she must have had three or four of his albums alone. The memory brought a smile to his lips. Those were wonderful Christmases.

In college he’d married a pretty girl he’d met in his world history class. Dark brown hair and bright green eyes, he’d been smitten from the first. Six months after their first date they were married, and a year later Michael was born. That Christmas was the best he’d ever known. They’d gone crazy buying presents for Michael, decorating the tree and starting what they thought would be many years of their own family traditions. He never knew he could be so happy.

But that was also the Christmas he’d gotten his draft notice and by June he found himself in the jungles of Southeast Asia. It wasn’t like anything he’d ever known before. Those relationships, borne out of a dependency and need unlike at home, forged a family there as well. They made those holiday celebrations their own, sharing the care packages that made it with each other and celebrating each in their own way, combining them to make something special and unique. It might sound strange, but there was love there in those jungles too.

After the war things changed for Mel, and not the way he’d hoped for. Returning home to his family was a struggle. He and his wife tried to make things work between them, even having another baby, a daughter they named Emily. That first Christmas after she was born was strained and tense. The joy was there along with love for the kids, but they both knew it was their last shared holiday.

Since then things had been a rollercoaster for Mel. He’d drifted away from his children, following a series of menial, labor-oriented jobs that took him all around the country. When he finally tried to reconnect with his children, they’d drifted away from him. Who could blame them? He was a stranger to them.

So here he sat. The economic downturn had left him unemployed and he’d lost his apartment. All he had was a few personal possessions crammed into his pickup and living from one temporary job to another, the holidays approaching and things looking decidedly un-merry.

Seated near the window he looked out and watched as the colored lights on the storefront across the street lit up. The street, which had looked dark and lonely, was now bright and beckoning.
Hmmm, thought Mel. A few lights and everything changed. Suddenly a thought occurred to him, and feeling more positive then he had in a long time, he finished his meal and hurried out to his truck.

After stopping at the drugstore, he drove to a well lit area of the parking lot and took out his purchases. Three boxes of big, round, multi-colored Christmas lights, and some duct tape. With a smile he went to work. In short order his truck was outlined with the lights and, after connecting them to his battery he shut the hood and climbed in behind the wheel.

Crossing his fingers he turned the key. Immediately his truck was ablaze with the colors of Christmas! Blue, green, red, yellow—around the windows, outlining the hood and bumpers; his truck was a vision.

His mother always said home was where the heart is. Well, he thought, he may not have a home of his own, but he still had a heart that loved Christmas. Who said he couldn’t have Christmas wherever he was? After all, he told himself, couldn’t your heart be where your home was?

Pulling out onto the street he turned his radio on to the station that was playing the carols of the season. A car pulled up next to him and honked drawing his attention to them.

“Right on, man!” they shouted and waved. “Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas!” Mel yelled back with an answering wave.

They knew, he smiled, they knew.

A MAJOR AWARD!!!

I'm a winner! It feels so exciting--and I didn't even know I was nominated (although that's an honor too!)

My friend at It's a Wonderful Life me this "Your blog is fabulous!" award. Doesn't it look great? I wish I looked like that lady....

Here are the rules about this award:
Firstly - I must list 5 of my fabulous addictions:
Writing
Chocolate
Music
Pokemon
Blogging

Secondly - I must pass this award on to 5 other fabulous blogs:

The Eddington Family (A good friend, I love to read what's going on with her)
Celebrating Life-Dickson Style (Another friend who has a wonderful blog)

The Teeples Family (She's always fun to visit in blogsville)

The Terry Family (He does some really creative things with photos)

Nathan Bransford - Literary Agent (A blog about the publishing world)

Congratulations, one and all!

Thirdly - I must post the rules:
The rules of this award are:
1. You have to pass it on to 5 other fabulous blogs in a post.

2. You have to list 5 of your fabulous addictions in the post

3. You must copy and paste the rules and the instructions below in the post.

Instructions: On your post of receiving this award, make sure you include the person that gave you the award and link it back to them. When you post your five winners, make sure you link them as well. To add the award to your post, simply right-click, save image, then "add image" it in your post as a picture so your winners can save it as well. To add it to your sidebar, add the "picture" gadget. Also, don't forget to let your winners know they won an award from you by emailing them or leaving a comment on their blog.

A THOUGHT FOR THE WEEKEND

I know I'm early with this, but with this sciatica and the pain I've been having, getting down to the basement to blog has been a major achievement. I've been singing this song in my head because I have so many blessings to count! Not only am I blessed with a loving and supportive family with my husband and sons, but my ward family has been there for me in countless ways...most notibly by understanding and sharing their own experiences. I may have another month to deal with this and want to remember that things could be worse.

So, here are the lyrics to Irving Berlin's song 'COUNT YOUR BLESSINGS'......

When I'm worried and I can't sleep
I count my blessings instead of sheep
And I fall asleep counting my blessings

When my bankroll is getting small
I think of when I had none at all
And I fall asleep counting my blessings

I think about a nursery and I picture curly heads
And one by one I count them as they slumber in their beds
If you're worried and you can't sleep
Just count your blessings instead of sheep
And you'll fall asleep counting your blessings

Chocolate Kisses

My friend Tara and her family came over the other night. I love her and her family and her children are so precious to me. My boys fixed them each a cup of hot chocolate, and gave them some of the peanut butter balls they'd made to sample. (Recipe is on an earlier post.)

Little Tyler, who is only two, reminds me a lot of my boys when they were babies, and he tugs at my heart. After he was done with his treat I asked him for a kiss, which he smilingly gave me -- right on my tummy! I was wearing a white shirt, and I had chocolate kiss marks on it after he was done. It was so sweet, and reminded me of when I used to have lots of those kinds of things on my clothing when AJ and Kevin were small.

Tara was a little concerned, but the next day the stains came out with no problem. But ... I wasn't sure, as I looked at my clean white shirt, whether I was glad the stains were gone or not. I know that one day that sweet little boy who gave me that kiss unreservedly, will probably view me as his mother's weird old friend, and the idea of giving me a kiss will be horrific. So part of me kind of wanted to keep it. *sigh*

Plus I could have embarassed him with it when he becomes a teenager!

Snork!

Last night was crazy. Our little old beagle, Daisy -- who turns 13 in March -- decided she wanted to sleep in our room. Usually she stays in the living room where it's warm and quiet. So after much struggle with her old legs, she climbed the stairs and came into our room. I gave her some lovings and rubbed her ears then turned out the lights. She settled down on my side of the bed and stayed quiet during prayers.

But, as soon as I climbed in under the covers she fell asleep and started the most horrible snoring! When my husband came to bed he quickly fell asleep and started snoring too! And there I was, in the middle of these two noisy sleepers.

That wasn't too bad, but then I started paying way more atention to the two of them then going to sleep myself. Sometimes they snored in unison, sometimes they got a counterpoint going. It was crazy.

But then, who's the crazy lady paying attention???

A THOUGHT FOR THE WEEKEND

I still think the greatest suffering is being lonely, feeling unloved, just having no one ... That is the worst disease that any human being can ever experience.

Mother Theresa

1910-1997

A THOUGHT FOR THE WEEKEND

Sorry I'm late with this....I took another fall again Thanksgiving evening, this time right on the knee that I'd previously injured. I never, ever bruise, but this time my knee turned a nice shade of yuckie, and I have a black (really, it's black!) bruise on my back. My computer is in the basement and it's a painful journey right now. But, I found a great quote for Thanksgiving weekend.....

So long as we love we serve;
So long as we are loved by others,
I would almost say that we are indipensable;
And no man is useless while he has a friend.

Robert Louis Stevenson
1850-1894

Who'd A Thunk??

I haven't posted lately because I have had one of those weeks. Last week I threw out my back lifting a load of wet, heavy clothes from the washing machine. It developed into sciatica which hurts like the dickens! (My sympathies to anyone who suffers with it!)

Anyway, since walking and standing were so difficult, on Saturday night I told the boys I wasn't cooking and took them out for a burger. On the way back into the house I was going up the steps when my knee (which already suffers with arthritis) collapsed on me. I found myself falling backwards, banging into all sorts of garage type junk on the way down, crashing into AJ, and finally landing underneath the front of the van. Glamorous, no?

Now my poor old knee was wrenched and barely supported me. I've resorted to using a cane and needing my boys and husband to pick up the slack in getting ready for Thanksgiving. It's been AWFUL since, as you know, there's a ton of things to do in getting ready for the big day. Plus, we're having seven guests for dinner.

Yesterday, as my husband was cleaning and getting some things ready for me, I apologized yet again for not being able to do much to help. He said that my job was to get better and then said these sweet words to me: "This is showing me how much you do around here. I had no idea how much you do for us, and how hard you work!"

It made me feel so warm and good. I know a lot of you mothers out there probably feel as I do that you don't really do all that much....a lot of grunt work. But my husband showed me that my role in this family is important and needed. What a great Thanksgiving gift!

So, even in a rough situation, there's a silver lining! Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

A THOUGHT FOR THE WEEKEND

May we never let the things we can't have, or don't have, or shouldn't have, spoil our enjoyment of the things we do have and can have. As we value our happiness let us not forget it, for one of the greatest lessons in life is learning to be happy without the things we cannot or should not have.

Richard L. Evans

1906-1971

PEANUT BUTTER BALLS

Here is a fun recipe we really like, so I got the recipe from my mother and am sharing it. They taste like gourmet peanut butter cups. I'm warning you, this makes a TON so you may want to cut it in half, or plan on sending some to work with your husband or to pass out to neighbors and friends. Here you go!

PEANUT BUTTER BALLS

2 lb peanut butter
1 lb butter or margarine, softened
3 1-lb boxes powdered sugar

Knead all of the above together. If too hard or crumbly, add a little
extra butter. Form into balls (about the size of a small walnut).

Melt together:

1 square paraffin
2 bags semi-sweet chocolate chips (12 oz each)
(toothpicks and wax paper)

Melt chocolate and paraffin in double boiler. Using toothpicks, dip balls into mixture and place on wax paper to dry.

A House Full of Boys

My youngest son Kevin is turning ... gulp! ... seventeen tomorrow. I can't believe my baby is going to be that old! Where has the time gone?

He had a birthday party today. Had eight of his bestest buddies over to hang in the basement, eat chips, pizza and soda and, of course, play six hours of video games. It was a great time. I left them alone and made mother of the year from Kevin.

The thing is, sometimes as a mother you worry about who their friends will be, what they'll be like and if they'll be a bad influence. I am happy to say that Kevin's friends are terrific. Nice, polite, wonderful young men and women. I enjoyed each and every one of them. It made me feel so good that he has such friends.

I guess you have to trust that your children will pick friends that will be good for them. Today I saw that my trust paid off.

A THOUGHT FOR THE WEEKEND

There are two kinds of light -- the glow that illuminates, and the glare that obscures.

James Thurber

1894-1961

A Thanksgiving Afternoon

Her mother always told her that God never gave you more than you could handle. Ivy wasn’t so sure that was true. She didn’t have anything cataclysmic in her life, but sometimes the loneliness was so heavy she couldn’t breathe. Looking down at her Thanksgiving dinner it was unbearable.

“Dinner for two,” she’d told the woman at the restaurant just so they wouldn’t think she was spending the holiday alone. But truthfully, who would buy a take-out dinner on Thanksgiving if they weren’t alone?

She leaned back in her chair and stared out the window. It was late afternoon. Families would be gathering around their tables enjoying each other’s company and the fragrance of a meal prepared with love and companionship.

Her mother’s death had hit Ivy hard, and she was ill prepared for a life spent in so much of her own company. At 57 most of her friends were settled with families. Oh sure, they’d make room for her if she’d asked, but she felt uncomfortable in the role of the friend with “nowhere else to go.”

If only her marriage hadn’t failed. That was a long time ago, Ivy thought and shook her head. No use crying over spilt milk.

Gauging the amount of daylight left Ivy decided to take a walk. Riding down to the lobby of her building in the elevator, the doors opened to find a large group of men and women laughing and talking as they waited for her to exit so they could go up to their own celebrations. Working her way through them Ivy was aware that they took no notice of her. Invisible, she thought as she left the building.

The lights in the homes and apartment windows were beginning to turn on as Ivy made her way down the city blocks. She could smell roasting turkey and hear the sounds of football games and cheering as she walked. As isolated as she felt, it was somewhat comforting to know that life went on as normal around her.

She stopped in front of an older building that had been renovated a couple of years earlier. The stonework was dark and worn looking, and the buyer had left as much of the original as possible. Large stone steps led up to double doors with etched glass that glowed behind them. It was a lovely building.

Standing and admiring it she could see the front window was slightly open allowing some of the cold air into the house, but also letting the sounds of some lively music to drift out to where she stood. It sounded Celtic, it’s melody bright and full of joy. A smile spread across her face as she listened and wondered about who lived there.

As she turned to start on her walk again a van pulled up and a large group of people began spilling out. Ivy stopped to wait for them. Four children ranging in age from about six to fourteen piled out of the back and two women and a man followed barking orders as they began unloading. Several people came through the double doors offering assistance.

Tucking her hands into her pockets Ivy watched in amusement. Never having been part of a large family it fascinated her. She envied big extended families and had always hoped to have one of her own someday. Making her way through them one of the women thrust a basket in her arms without looking at her.

“That one goes in the kitchen,” she said. “And be careful, it’s breakable.”

“But ... “ Ivy stammered.

The woman looked up. “Did my lazy sister send you out to help instead of coming herself?”

“No.” Ivy shook her head. “I’ll take it.”

The woman called over the youngest boy and gave him a bottle of soda to carry in.

“Take care not to drop it, Aidan,” she said.

The boy, with red hair and freckles, looked up at Ivy with a sweet smile and took her hand. Pulling on her he lead her up the steps.

It was more crowded inside than out, if that was possible, dozens of conversations ebbing and flowing around her. No one would notice a stranger carrying in a basket of goodies. She relaxed a little at the thought.

A young man came along and took her coat while someone else pushed a glass of punch in her hand. She wandered around a bit dazed at the number of people crowded into the apartment which, although large and airy, still felt as if it’s walls were bursting.

Ivy made her way to the front room whose lights and music had first caught her attention. A tall pine was situated in the corner bare and ready to be trimmed. She wondered if it was part of their Thanksgiving tradition to decorate it after the meal. The music was still on and the sound made her feel somewhat expectant.

Standing at the window Ivy looked out. The streetlights were beginning to come on as darkness settled deeper on the city.

“Not much of a view, is it?”

A deep male voice broke her reverie and she turned around. He looked to be about the same age as Ivy, his hair and goatee turning a soft grey. His face was kind, the eyes sympathetic, but there was a questioning look to his countenance.

He jerked his head back over his shoulder. “A couple of my children and grandkids told me about the beautiful stranger in our midst,” he said. “Most of them think you are a friend of mine.”

Hot with embarrassment Ivy stood speechless for a moment before setting her glass down on the table beside the tree.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice thick with shame. “It was a mistake. I was walking past and someone gave me a basket to bring in and ... “

She shrugged helplessly. “I’m so sorry. I never meant to intrude.”

“You’re not.” He smiled at her. “We’re a pretty big group and it’s easy to get swept away with all the activity around here.”

He walked over to stand beside her. Looking down at her she felt as if he could see inside her before he turned his attention outside the window.

“Like I said, it’s not much of a view. But then when I bought this place I wasn’t interested in that. I only wanted somewhere my entire family could gather together. What’s your name?”

“Ivy.”

“Ivy.” She liked the way he said it. “I’m Sean; pleased to meet you.”

He cocked his head and regarded her for a moment. “Would you like to join us for Thanksgiving dinner?”

“I couldn’t!” she cried, embarrassed again at how she came to be standing there.

“You don’t like turkey?”

“It’s not that,” she shook her head.

“You have nothing to be thankful for?”

Breaking eye contact with him she looked down.

“No matter what our circumstances we all have much to be grateful for this holiday. If we are lonely, or afraid or sick or hurting, we all have one thing in common,” he said touching her lightly on the shoulder.

Looking back up at him she asked, “We do?”

Sean nodded and smiled again. “Someone loved us enough to give us the ultimate gift. He understands everything we feel and is always there for us. He gave us life. He gave us hope.”

Placing his arm around her shoulders he steered her to where the family was gathered and waiting.

“Listen, we all have things we’re not happy with. But this Thanksgiving let’s be thankful for new friends that enter our lives, shall we?”

Ivy smiled back at him as he brought her where two large tables had been set up; children at one, adults at the other.

He stood at the head of the adult’s table as the patriarch of the family, an empty place setting next to his. Looking at all the faces turned to her Ivy felt nervous until she felt Sean’s comforting arm give her a reassuring squeeze.

“Happy Thanksgiving,” he said to his family.

He turned to her his eyes warm. “Please welcome my friend, Ivy.”

A THOUGHT FOR THE WEEKEND

Tho’ much is taken, much abides.
And tho’ we are not now
that strength which in old days
moved earth and heaven;
that which we are

we are.

From Ulysses
Alfred, Lord Tennyson
1809-1892

Check It Out

One of my favorite authors is Maeve Binchy, an Irish writer with a unique take on everyday life. On her website she has a button you can click on to go to a short story which she changes periodically.

www.maevebinchy.com

The current story is entitled The Legendary Apple Pie and is such a cute story! Very short, less than 1,000 words; it will strike a chord with anyone who has dealt with a potential mother-in-law....

Enough said. Now, go check it out!

Happy Halloween!

What a great Halloween we had this year. It was actually nice weather--the first since we moved here in 2000. We had fun carving pumpkins, eating Taco Soup (a Mullis family tradition) and scarfing out on candy in-between trick or treaters! Here are some photos of us!The Jack O-Lantirns

Sheriff Mullis

Mad Scientist AJ!!!!


Balteshazar the Mighty!

A THOUGHT FOR THE WEEKEND

One of the advantages of being disorderly is that one is constantly making exciting discoveries.

A. A. Milne

1882-1956

Yam Balls

Since Thanksgiving is only a month off, I thought I'd share a really wonderful recipe. For those of you who like candied yams, you might like this as well. I got it from a friend of mine in my old ward in San Jose who was a professional caterer. It takes a bit of time, but it is soooooo worth it!

Yam Balls

3 cups of yams, cooked and mashed
2 eggs
1 teaspoon cinnamon (more if you like)
Bag of mini-marshmallows
1-2 cups crushed cornflakes

Peel and mashed yams. Add eggs and cinnamon and mix thoroughly. Put in fridge and leave overnight to chill.

Next day, take about the size of a golf ball, put marshmallow into the middle. Roll in slightly crushed cornflakes.

Put in greased 9” x 13” pan. Put in 350º oven for 10-15 minutes. Pour over caramel sauce (below) and put back in oven for 5 minutes. Let sit for 10 minutes.

Caramel Sauce

1 cup butter
¾ cup brown sugar
½ teaspoon vanilla
1 tablespoon flour
1 cup cream

Mix butter, sugar, vanilla and flour together in large saucepan, until all ingredients are melted together. Then add cream. Keep on stove on medium heat until it gets really thick and color lightens. Should have the consistency of thick gravy or cheese sauce.

A THOUGHT FOR THE WEEKEND

I am still determined to be cheerful and happy, in whatever situation I may be; for I have also learned from experience that the greater part of our happiness or misery depends upon our dispositions, and not upon our circumstances.

Martha Washington
1732-1802

Writers Write -- Right??

I've started my next novel, also in the women's fiction genre. I know, you may say, as I do, that I haven't sold anything yet, so why I am still writing? Because I know that not everyone sells their first novel, even those who have best sellers out. And one thing I know is that writers keep writing. So that's what I'm doing.

I remember when I was in high school we took a weekend trip up to Napa Valley north of us. One of the things we did was to visit Wolf House, which was Jack London's home. It was burned in a huge fire, and the ruins are still there, as is his original home which has been preserved as a state park. He is buried on the property as well.

The thing I remember most is the two display cases. In one it is full, and I mean FULL of rejection letters. Most are just postcards with terse comments saying he wasn't a good writer and they weren't interested in anything he had to send them. In the case next to it were copies of Call of the Wild printed in every language in the world. Justification to the Nth degree!

I content myself with thoughts that I am doing what I must do and that is write. Some like my books, some don't. It's a subjective business. I love to write, I love to tell stories, and until there is some reason not to, I'll continue.

In the meantime, my new book has been started, and three chapters into it I'm having fun.

A THOUGHT FOR THE WEEKEND

Keep trying. Be believing. Be happy. Don't get discouraged. Things will work out.

Gordon B. Hinckley

1910-2008

Blessings

I've been dealing with some struggles and feeling blue lately. Last night we had the missionaries over for dinner and my oldest son, AJ who recently became an elder, consulted with them privately while I was getting dinner on. He disappeared a moment, and returned wearing his good slacks and his white shirt and tie. I thought perhaps he was going to go out with the missionaries after dinner.

"I'm going to give you a blessing," he told me. I wrapped my arms around him, I was so overcome. I remember when AJ became a deacon I was so pleased to have the priesthood in my home. I've been preparing for him to advance through the years, and have looked forward to the day when he will leave for a mission. But this, to receive a priesthood blessing at my sons hands, was something I had never considered.

After dinner he laid his hands on my head and I could feel the love of my Father in Heaven come through. I knew he was speaking to me through my son. To say that my heart is full would not be enough. My gratitude to my Heavenly Father and His Son -- for my sons -- is more than my mortal heart can contain.

Happy Reeny!

I got a box in the mail Saturday afternoon from my best friend of forty years. This September was the anniversary of our meeting and I sent her a Bobby Sherman CD with all the songs we used to listen to while we talked about boys. In the box she sent me the new Maeve Binchy book HEART AND SOUL.

Binchy is an Irish author who's work I adore. This is her latest book and will not be available in this country until the end of February. Beth's husband, Ken, travels all over the world for his company and brought us each back a copy of the book from his latest trip to the UK.

Don't you just love it when an author you love to read has a new book out? I'm taking the phone off the hook, unplugging the TV and curling up for an evening with a new set of friends! I'll talk to you all later .......

Lunch with AJ!

We decided to meet up at Gunther Toody's Diner about the time AJ was supposed to get off work and have lunch with him. It was a lot of fun. I know his co-workers are going to miss him when he goes on his mission.

We had a lot of fun joking with the waitresses and had some pretty darn good sammies as well!


Kevin likes going to the diner and seeing his brother at work!

Stan's looking "cool" while Reeny and AJ strike a pose!

A THOUGHT FOR THE WEEKEND

"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't often happen to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time your are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But those things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

from The Velveteen Rabbit

by Margery Williams

AJ Turns 19!!

AJ had his 19th birthday Sunday! We spent the day at Elitch's. It was a lot of fun. Not too hot (like it was over the summer up there!) and it was decorated for Halloween with spooky music playing in the background.

There was supposed to be a cockroach eating contest that Kevin was looking forward to, but it wasn't up and running that day. AJ has already had the experience of eating a cricket in his eight grade science class, and I think Kevin wanted the opportunity to try eating an insect as well. The Ghost Blasters ride was up and running, and there were a couple of hanted houses they had fun going through.

When it started to get darker we suddenly saw zombies and others forms of creepy crawlies walking around the "graveyards" they had a various points around the park.

When the boys and Stan (I'm too big a chicken) went through the "tamer" haunted house, Stan suddenly found himself with two 14-year-old girls clinging to the back of his jacket. I told him he is such a "dad" that they felt safe hanging on to him. When AJ heard this he was sad he hadn't been in the back where the girls were.

Afterwards we all went to Sweet Tomatoes for dinner, then home again where we were supposed to have cake and ice cream and gifts, but were so tired we barely stayed awake to see AJ open his gifts. It was a fun day!

AJ enjoys a cold drink in between rides.

Kevin having fun at Sweet Tomatoes.

Reeny and Stan -- pooped after a long day!

Fall Is Finally Here!

Yeah! Fall has finally hit Colorado. The air is crisp and the nights cool, and the sky that lovely shade of blue I've only ever seen here. I love it. And to me, fall means apples! I found this great apple dessert recipe at the dentist's office a couple of weeks ago and thought I would share. I haven't made it yet, but it sounds so yummy!

Apple and Cheddar Crumble

6 cups peeled and coarsely chopped apples (about 2 pounds)
1 lemon, juiced
8 oz shredded cheddar (2 cups)
½ cup golden raisins
½ cup lite brown sugar
1/3 cup flour
1/3 cup quick cook oats
¼ cup (1/2 stick) butter, softened
1 teaspoon pumpkin pie spice

Heat oven to 375º. Spray 13 x 9” pan with Pam. In large bowl fold together apples, lemon juice, cheese and raisins. Spoon into dish.

In another bowl combine sugar, flour, oats, butter and pumpkin pie spice. Mix until crumbly. Scatter over apple mixture.

Bake at 375º for 30 minutes or until nicely browned and apples are tender. Serve warm. Good with whipped cream or scoop of vanilla ice cream.

Makes 8 servings, each serving: 326 cal, 15 g fat, 2 g fiber; 7 points WW.

Saturday Night Supper

I recently gave one of my favorite recipes to my best friend to try, and found myself wanting it too. I made it tonight and we all enjoyed it. It's an easy and tasty meal good for Saturday night when you want something simple to serve with a green salad and not a lot of effort. My boys even enjoyed it when they were little, probably because it's made with breakfast sausage and who doesn't like that? Here it is!

CHILI SAUSAGE SUPPER

1 pound bulk pork sausage
1 cup finely chopped onion

1 cup chopped green pepper
1 package (7 or 8 oz) wide noodles
1 can (16 oz) diced tomatoes

1 cup sour cream

3/4 cup water

1 Tablespoon sugar

1 to 2 teaspoons chili powder

In large skillet, cook and stir meat, onion and green pepper until meat is brown and onion is tender; drain off fat. Stir in remaining ingredients.

Cover; simmer 30 minutes or until noodles are tender, adding more water if necessary to prevent sticking. 4 to 6 servings.

A THOUGHT FOR THE WEEKEND

There’s a miracle of friendship
that dwells within the heart
And you don’t know how it happens
or where it gets its start
But the happiness it brings you
always gives a special lift
And you realize that friendship
Is God’s most perfect gift.

The Story of the Sign

This is a short film that won an award at the Cannes Film Festival. It is a lovely story about compassion and takes about five minutes to watch. A good reminder for us all.

http://en.zappinternet.com/video/nilSqaMboM/HISTORIA-DE-UN-LETRERO-THE-STORY

Is There a 12-Step Program for This????

My name is Maureen, and I am addicted to Pokemon.

There! I've admitted it! Embarassing as it is, I am what my sons refer to as a Poke Mom. Several years ago we went camping up at Steamboat Springs and my kids had their GameBoys and Pokemon games with them, and gave me one of their old systems and games to try to play. I was hooked. I have just about every version of Pokemon that's come down the Pike, and I love them all.

For my birthday the boys enabled me further in my addiction. AJ gave me his old DS (the spring broke so the lid doesn't stay up on it's own, but what do I care??) and then he and Kevin went out and bought me a copy of the Pokemon Pearl version.

The situation is serious. For the past two days I have done nothing but play that blasted game, and I love it. I only seem to take breaks to eat and hit the potty. I'm thinking of getting one of those beer can hats with the straws that go down to your mouth and loading it with a couple of diet cokes so I don't have to make trips to the fridge. Is that sad?

Like I said, it's serious. So I decided to pull myself away and get started on the outline for my next book and check out what's happening in blogville. I had a fabulous birthday. My best friend Tara took me to dinner where the best part of the evening was being in her company and talking up a storm. My husband took me to lunch before he had to go off to work, and my sons gave me all the birthday hugs and kisses I could have asked for ....

and of course, the latest Pokemon game .....

Happy Birthday to Me!

It finally got here -- my 53rd birthday. Yikes! How did this happen? Who is that old lady in the mirror looking back at me? I was talking with my former roomie from BYU this afternoon, and we both agreed that whenever we talk it feels as if the years have melted away and we're 19 again. Neat how friends can do that for you.

I was thinking this morning of how I came to get my Irish name. Maureen Lee is Irish for Mary Elizabeth. I much prefer the Irish version. My dad was in the Air Force and was transferred to Japan during the Korean War. He was stationed at a base outside of Tokyo called Feamcom. My mother did not go with him. While he was there waiting for her to save up enough money to join him, he got a little bank and wrote Maureen's Diaper Service on it. All the guys in his platoon signed their names to it, and they would put their loose change into it at the end of the day.

When my mother arrived he moved out of the platoon and they rented a little house in the town of Tachikawa and he brought the little piggy bank with him and presented it to her. "Who's Maureen?" she asked. She got pregnant at Christmas and the following September I was born. My Dad just liked the name Maureen Lee. To this day whenever he addresses anything to me that's what he uses; the full name.

I always liked that story. Fifty-three years later it's still fun to remember that my dad was planning for me before my mom was even there in Japan.

A THOUGHT FOR THE WEEKEND

If you have a garden and a library,

you have everything you need.
Marcus Tullius Cicero
106 BC – 43 BC

I've been thinking .......

I've been thinking a lot lately about how as a society we've become so judgemental. I read things in magazines and newspapers and people are just so picky! They criticize everything from hairstyles, to what shoes you wear, to lipstick to size to your taste in music, etc. etc. etc.

You know what I think? I think we've been simonized. Not the old floor cleaner junk from the 1970s, but Simon Cowell. All these crazy reality shows that everyone watches makes us think we can sit in judgement on everyone around us. Simon Cowell, from American Idol, has gotten a lot of attention for being cruel and it feels like it's spilling out over all of us.

I mean, really, how much does it matter what someone else does as long as they aren't hurting you? I say, if you're happy and it's not hurtful to your family and friends and those around you, then enjoy yourself! And who cares what Tim Gunn and Simon Cowell think!

Rubik's Champion

Kevin has a new passion that I am finding amusing. He's learned how to solve Rubik's Cube. Every day, several times a day, he'll hand me his cube and ask me to jumble it up for him. It takes him less than five minutes to put it back to rights, so we go over this routine a lot during the course of an evening.

As AJ is growing up, so is Kevin. He went to a party Saturday night that a friend of his held in honor of homecoming. He also discovered Twister at that party and declared it an awesome fun game! He now wants his own copy of Twister, and I fear that he may expect me to play with him. If you never see me again, I'll be in the basement passed out on the Twister mat!

My boys were so much fun when they were little, and as the years have passed they continue to be a source of joy and fun for me. Who knew teenaged boys were so neat?

My Son the Elder

My oldest son, Arland James (AJ), was ordained an Elder today. I am so proud of him and his accomplisments up to this point in his life. Brother Darrell McGowan in our ward ordained him and gave him a copy of his priesthood line of authority that goes back to the Saviour. It is overwhelming to look at it and to see my son's name at the top of that page.

When you think your life is so completely full of blessings that you can't imagine Heavenly Father giving you anything else, He blesses you yet again. That is the way I feel today. My heart is bursting with love and gratitude for all that He has given me.

AJ pointed out to me that we now have the Melchezidek Priesthood in our home, which means he can give us blessings if we need them. To think that the little baby who was not expected to live now is an Elder in the Lord's church leaves me awed by how the Lord moves in our lives. Surely He has some plans for this young man.

A THOUGHT FOR THE WEEKEND

We have too many high-sounding words, and too few actions that correspond with them.

Abigail Adams
1744-1818

The New Book is Finished!

I have finished writing my newest book. I am very excited about this one, and am going to be printing a "pass along" copy of it to share with those who wish to read it. I need to work on polishing it before sending it off to agents and publishers. I am hoping to find readers who are willing to read it and give me their feedback on: inconsistencies, typos, problems with plotline, things of that nature. If you're interested let me know. Here is a brief description of the book:

In the Company of Women is the story of one year in a group of seven women who are brought together when they join a women’s book club at their library. They are in a variety of stages and ages of their lives, but as they each face a different trial they realize that true friendship has no boundaries, nor does it have limitations.

Living in a small town in Colorado the women range in age from 28 to 77. They are divorced, widowed, and married. They are mothers, as well as longing to be mothers. They face health problems, marriage difficulties and financial situations they are not always prepared for.

The friends pull together to get each other through these difficulties they face with humor, love and their collective strengths. They teach each other how to let go of the past, how to embrace the future, and ultimately how to forgive not only those who have hurt them, but themselves for what they perceive as their personal failures. It is the story of how women sustain and complete each other and help each other to recognize what they really have.

A THOUGHT FOR THE WEEKEND

I've seen a look in dogs' eyes, a quickly vanishing look of amazed contempt, and I am convinced that basically dogs think humans are nuts.

John Steinbeck
1902-1968

Remembering Jake

When the boys were 5 and 3 we stopped by a house one day that had a sign out front that said "Puppies--$25". We were taken into the back yard where a bundle of little fur balls came tumbling out and running around the yard. Except for one little guy, who glued himself to AJ's heels and never left him as he walked around looking at all the puppies. Finally he looked down at the little black puppy and proclaimed that he had a nice smile and wanted to take him home.

He named him Jake and from that day on he was AJ's dog. He loved all of us, but AJ was his boy. If we yelled at AJ he tried to lunge at us. Anyone came near the back yard when the boys were out playing he turned into Cujo to keep those boys safe. When we moved to Colorado he travelled with a horse transport and charmed the owners so much they hoped we wouldn't come claim him once he arrived in Colorado Springs. At 65 pounds he thought he was a lap dog and always tried to climb into my lap. He was our friend and or protector for over 12 years.

We lost Jake in March of 2007, but I still miss him. I had a dream about him last night. He was young again, no grey on his muzzle. I asked him if he had come by to check on us. He smiled at me, that cute smile of his, and as I told him how much I loved him and missed him, he slowly disappeared.

Friendship Anniversary

September 9th is Admissions Day in California; the date it became a state. When I was a kid it was also the last day of summer vacation as school always started the day after it.

It is a special day for me this year. My best friend (BFF) and I met in our 8th grade English class in September 1968. We always celebrate our "anniversary of friendship" and this year we celebrate 40 years of friendship.

We were both talkers. Our teacher, Mr. South (for whom I will forever be grateful) got tired of our talking after a few days, and moved us next to each other right in front of his desk so he could keep an eye on us. Who would have thought that all this time later we would still be talking? And emailing and text messaging and .......

She is the sister of my heart; the keeper of my secrets and dreams. I truly believe that we were friends in the pre-existence because from the day we met it was like we had always known each other.

The photo is one taken the summer after we graduated from high school. We were 17 and were spending a week up at Lake Tahoe in a cabin on the lake. I think we look pretty cute, but the memories and the friendship that we have shared sustains me and enriches me. I wish for all of us a relationship like that.

A THOUGHT FOR THE WEEKEND

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune without the words
And never stops at all

And sweetest in the gale is heard
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm

I've heard it in the chillest land
And on the strangest sea
Yet never, in extremity
It asked a crumb of me

Emily Dickinson
1830-1856

Fried Green Tomatoes

Have any of you seen that movie "Fried Green Tomatoes"? It's a great book and they did a good job in transferring the story to film. Anyway, I thought I would share a good recipe for making aforementioned tomatoes. If any of you have gardens of your own you might give them a try!

FRIED GREEN TOMATOES
(Southern Style)

1 cup cornmeal
½ cup flour
1 tablespoon sugar
Oil for frying
4 or 5 firm green tomatoes, sliced
Salt and pepper to taste

In a shallow bowl, mix together the cornmeal, flour and sugar. Dredge both sides of tomato in mixture. Press slices FIRMLY into the cornmeal mixture to make a good coating.

Add oil to heavy skillet until depth is ¼ inch. Heat over medium high heat. Fry a few slices at a time, about 2 minutes on each side.

When both sides are golden brown, remove and drain on paper towels. Season with salt and pepper and serve hot. Makes 4 servings. YUMMY!!

Labor Day is a Special Day ....

I don't know if things were different when you were a kid, but when I was going to school it always started after Labor Day. For my kids it starts a month earlier and Labor Day is just a three day weekend, not the portal to another school year.

But still, there's something about the whole holiday that remains, for me at least, a bittersweet reminder that summer is coming to an end. It's the last hurrah before the leaves start to turn and the weather cools down.

Autumn is the beginning of a whirlwind of activity that keeps us going from now until the end of the year. In our family we have three birthdays in the fall, and then there's Halloween, Thanksgiving, and of course Christmas. Fall also means the first of the band concerts and football games, all those comfort foods we save for colder days like meatloaf and shepherd's pie, home baked cookies and hot chocolate, and pulling out our big cozy sweaters and sweatshirts again. I do like this time of year.

That doesn't mean it isn't hard to say goodbye to summer. The memories come with us and they're fun to revisit when it's freezing outside. Hyacinths to feed our souls....

A THOUGHT FOR THE WEEKEND

A pessimist is one who makes difficulties of his opportunities and an optimist is one who makes opportunities of his difficulties.

Harry S Truman
1884-1972

The Gift of Forgiveness

It was at a church service in Munich that I saw him, a former S.S. man who had stood guard at the shower room door in the processing center at Ravensbruck. He was the first of our actual jailers that I had seen since that time. And suddenly it was all there – the roomful of mocking men, the heaps of clothing, Betsie's pain-blanched face. He came up to me as the church was emptying, beaming and bowing. “How grateful I am for your message, Fraulein.” He said. “To think that, as you say, He has washed my sins away!” His hand was thrust out to shake mine. And I, who had preached so often to the people in Bloemendaal the need to forgive, kept my hand at my side. Even as the angry, vengeful thoughts boiled through me, I saw the sin of them. Jesus Christ had died for this man; was I going to ask for more? Lord Jesus, I prayed, forgive me and help me to forgive him. I tried to smile, I struggled to raise my hand. I could not. I felt nothing, not the slightest spark of warmth or charity. And so again I breathed a silent prayer. Jesus, I prayed, I cannot forgive him. Give me Your forgiveness. As I took his hand the most incredible thing happened. From my shoulder along my arm and through my hand a current seemed to pass from me to him, while into my heart sprang a love for this stranger that almost overwhelmed me. And so I discovered that it is not on our forgiveness any more than on our goodness that the world's healing hinges, but on His. When He tells us to love our enemies, He gives, along with the command, the love itself.

Corrie Ten Boom
1892-1983
From her book, THE HIDING PLACE

A Game of Tag

I visited my friend Kristeen's Blog and she was tagging* everyone who visited her site. I've decided to take the challenge. I hope all my friends in Blogville do this--it's fun!

3 JOYS:
1-Stan, AJ and Kevin
2-Singing hymns with my boys (especially when we're out driving and we can sing at the top of our lungs!)
3-My Testimony

3 FEARS:
1-Something happening to the boys or Stan
2-That I've failed in my calling as a mother
3-Drowning

3 OBSESSIONS:
1-Laundry
2-Pens (I LOVE pens. I buy then whenever they're on sale, I steal them from doctor's offices, my husband and sons get them for me too. I have enough pens to supply the high school!)
3-Lists (I also love to makes lists. Sometimes if I complete tasks I'll make the list after the fact so I can check off that I've done that task!)

3 SURPRISING FACTS:
1-I worked as a newspaper reporter and a columnist for a few years before I discovered I don't have the personality to be a hard-boiled newsman(woman)
2-I am a realtively picky eater. Since my marriage Stan has finally gotten me to try a lot of things that he likes-salmon, lamb, brussel sprouts--I'm a pretty tame eater compared to him!
3-I used to be a dancer. I studied jazz and modern dance in high school. (Times have changed!)

*I tag anyone who reads my blog! I will be looking on your blogs to find out more about you!

Feeling Nostalgic

I'm spending a lot of time reminiscing lately. Probably because we're working on AJ's missionary papers and Kevin is now a junior in high school. I feel a sweet sort of longing for the days when they were little, and yesterday an old photo fell into my lap!

This is a picture of AJ's first day of Kindergarten! It's about a month before his 5th birthday, and two and a half months before Kevin turned 3. They just look so sweet to me. I had waited so long to find Stan and have the boys (I was 32 when I married) and I remember the waiting taking so long! And these past twenty years have gone by so fast!

When I look at this photo, I know without a doubt that the Lord answers prayers. How many years did I ask him to answer my heart's desire to be a wife and a mother, and look what He blessed me with! I am one lucky woman.

Do You Ever Wonder?

Sometimes I wonder about things. Like, who was the first person to look at an oyster and say, "Wow, that looks yummy?" Or an avacado, or rhubarb, or a lot of those weird foods we have out there. Not that they're not good ... it's just that they look so strange I can't imagine eating them if I didn't already know what they were.

And who thought the word spelunking was a good one for cave exploration? Did some guy honestly think that when people asked him what he did for fun that it would be good to tell them he was a spelunker?

This seems kind of random, but there are so many things in this big, wide world that make me wish I had a time machine and I could go back and see how they got started. If I could find the person who decided that women should wear bras and makeup, I'd sure like to have a talk with them!

A THOUGHT FOR THE WEEKEND

Fate is foolish! Take a chance!

The Character of Tonetti

in 1934's The Gay Divorcee

starring Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers

(The Gay Divorcee was one of my favorite movies when I was in college. One of my best friends and I used to watch it every chance we got. A story of mistaken identities and confusion, the character of Tonetti is supposed to quote the line "Fate is the fool's name for chance" to Ginger's Roger's character. He can't quite remember the line, and doesn't know what she looks like, so he scurries around misquoting the line every time to a variety of women. Paul and I liked this version the best. So, I say, it's the weekend--let's get out there. Don't leave things to fate; take a chance! Enjoy your day off!)

Trees

There's a line in Willa Cather's book My Antonia that I love. It's a book about people who live on the Nebraskan plains. They're strong, resillient and loving people, but the country there is unrelenting. There aren't many trees. She writes that the people visit the few trees that are there as if "they were old friends."

I've discovered that trees are important to me as well. In San Jose, California we lived in an area known as Willow Glen. Give you an idea of what it was like? Lots of trees. Our house's lot was surrounded. We had two peach trees, an apricot, two varieties of apple and a cherry tree, a huge pine that we had to keep topping because it was so large, and along the back of our yard was a long cluster of birch trees that were so tall and thick it looked like there was a forest behind our house rather than someone else's home.

When we moved here to Colorado Springs we purchased a new house. How exciting! we thought, to be able to do everything the way we wanted. We didn't know that the climate here is tougher and that things are harder to grow. In addition we discovered that there are more things that can cause trees to die here--the weather, the soil conditions, etc. It's been an adjustment.

I have come to understand better what Willa Cather meant when she penned that phrase. Trees to me have also become like old friends. I wish I had more.

Am I That Out of the Loop?

"Have you ever heard of Billy Joel?" my boys asked me.

"Why?"

"Because he is so cool!" they told me with enthusiastic shouts. "You should listen to him. Want to listen to him?"

Here we go again, I think. I must seem like such a fuddy-duddy to my sons and also to my nephews. I remember when my oldest nephew was in high school (he's now 25) and was studying U.S. History, he one day asked me if I was alive during Watergate.

Yikes! I couldn't believe that he asked me that! Like, was I around when Roosevelt was president or did I personally know Lincoln. I never viewed myself as someone that wasn't current and aware, but I've noticed that to teenagers I am definately "out of the loop."

"Sure, I'll listen to him," I replied, and as poor "old" Billy's voiced boomed out at me I wondered how he fares with his daughter....

A THOUGHT FOR THE WEEKEND

Time is the coin of your life. It is the only coin you have, and only you can determine how it will be spent. Be careful lest you let other people spend it for you.

Carl Sandburg
1878-1967

In the Company of Women

Last night I attended my book club meeting. Although I am at a later stage of life than the women I was with, I find that age is transcendent. We had such a good discussion; sharing our own philosophies, life experiences and opinions.

This is what I love about being with women: the giving, the taking, the sharing. There are no other relationships, I find, that convey this type of give and take. Husbands are in a special category. I often find that my husband, who loves me so much, wants to fix whatever it is that angers/hurts/upsets me when what I really need is just to have someone listen. Not everything needs to be fixed. This is something that women just know.

I was fascinated by the twists and turns our conversation took us; awed at how truly lovely each of these women were; and grateful to be, at least last night, in the company of women.

Back to Work

I heard from my agent today. I haven't heard from her for awhile; she's been on vacation. But today I received an email from her. She sent my mystery novel to an editor and asked her to look it over. She is mystified that she had been unable to sell it and wanted some feedback. I received the report via email, and I got some information that will help me as a writer overall, as well as what I need to do to put this book into better shape.

The thing that really made me happy was that the editor thought I was a good writer. I have always believed that I was, but somehow when someone else confirms your belief it feels pretty good.

So now it's back to work. Any of you who have read my book, or would like to, I could use any and all feedback. Let me know, and please, wish me luck!

Bat Mitzvah

We went to our neighbor Rachel's bat mitzvah this morning. We've lived across the street from the Ginsburg's for eight years now and have watched this young girl grow into a lovely and accomplished young woman.

This coming of age ceremony takes place when a Jewish boy or girl reaches age 13. At this time, according to Jewish law, the bar or bat mitzvah is considered to be an adult and old enough to assume religious responsibility. Bar means "son of"; bat means "daughter of" and mitzvah means "commandment". Thus, the bar or bat mitzvah is expected to oserve the commandments, the heart of Jewish tradition. He/she is considered ready to accept their religious duties and be responsible for their own ethical behavior.

To reach this point, the bar or bat mitzvah has fulfilled an educational goal demanding many years of studying the Hebrew language, Jewish rituals, and the history of Judaism. Each bar mitzvah also designs and completes a community service project. Rachel built a pupet theater for a special needs class in order for the teacher to have that resource to teach her students new skills and cooperation techniques.

In addition to participating throughout the service, Rachel was called to the pulpit to recite appropriate blessings, to read from the Torah (the Five Books of Moses), and to chant the related passage from the Jewish prophets, as well as deliver a personal address to the congregation.

Rachel looked so happy and pleased; her parents were bursting with pride. It was a happy day, and an interesting and learning experience for me.

A THOUGHT FOR THE WEEKEND

It is only with the heart that one can see clearly. That which is essential is invisible to the eye.

Antoine de Saint-Exupery

1900-1944

Driving Lesson

My youngest son, Kevin, is 16 and has his driving permit. He always wants to go driving. Yesterday I decided that we would spend the day having one major driving lesson. We spent 2-1/2 hours driving all over Colorado Springs. And since he was spending a lot of time behind the wheel, I thought it best if we ran some errands while he got his experience. We went to the eye doctor, got the last of the school supplies we needed, and stopped in at Burger King for a cold drink and a break during the hot weather.

Kevin is a big Bon Jovi fan and put on some of their music as we drove all over town. At one point I started to sing along.

"Please don't," he calmly said.

"Do I embarass you?" I asked.

"No."

"I don't embarass you?"

"No," he reiterated. "But you have ruined some songs for me."

Oh my gosh, I almost wet my pants I laughed so hard. I guess we can chalk this up to another session with his therapist after he grows up!

Family Traditions

Have you ever had a moment when you see your mother in yourself? I think every woman has had this experience. I have, and it's not one of those things I really want to carry on. It's the old, kleenex up the sleeve, or inside the bra or wherever you happen to tuck the doggone things.

When I was a kid my mother always had kleenex falling from her. Like little white wads of dandelion fluff they'd filter out and drift around her. As a teenager it was embarassing. Especially if she happened to drag one out and offer it to me or my friend. Yikes!

The other day we were out getting the car taken care of, and I stopped in a public restroom and noticed this lump in my bra. Yep, you guessed it, the proverbial wad of tissues ready and waiting. What was I thinking?

From now on I think I'll carry on my mother's fried chicken recipe or her love of family history and leave the tissues in the box.

A THOUGHT FOR THE WEEKEND

I once had a sparrow alight upon my shoulder for a moment, while I was hoeing in a village garden, and I felt that I was more distinguished by that circumstance that I should have been by any epaulet I could have worn.

Henry David Thoreau

1817-1862

WoW

The summer before Stan and I got engaged, a friend and I decided we would go on vacation together. For some reason, and I've never fully understood why, Ilene and I thought that camping would be the best thing ever. I owned a tent and sleeping bag, borrowed my parents camp stove and lantirn and we loaded up my little Toyota and took off.

We decided on a place called Whiskey Town, a lake and campground in northern California near Mt. Shasta. It was terrific. We swam, ate talked and took long naps. The only problem was there were no showers. The only time we saw water was when we went swimming. The temperature hung around 112 so you can imagine how we looked and, well, smelled.

Ten days of camping without showering and we were a sight. We named ourselves the Women of the Woods (WoW) and decided to just enjoy ourselves.

The highlight was when we ventured into a small logging town for the 4th of July festivities. Homemade pies were for sale on the lawn of the Parsonage, the Fire Department had a corn roast, the library sold homemade lemonade and little old ladies were selling handmade doilies and quilts, there was a band playing in the square (yep, a town square!) and then there was the parade.

Two things became very evident as we sat on the curb eating homemade ice cream and watching that parade: this was indeed a very small town, and logging was the big operation. Here came everything from little kids on tricycles decorated with crepe paper and playing cards clipped to the spokes, all the way up to these hugemongous logging trucks that were also decorated with ribbons and Christmas lights. It was a blast.

Every now and then I trot those memories out and re-examine them. Small town life can be charming, but those WoWs were happy to get home to their showers, let me tell you!

Betty Co-ed

School's about to start, and it has me thinking. This fall my best friend, Beth, and I will have known each other for 40 years. It seems hard to believe, since I certainly don't feel like a grownup a lot of the time. Especially when Beth and I get together. We laugh and goof off like we're still in high school!

My mother used to sing for us an old song from the 1930s called "Betty Coed" that we loved. It was sweet and silly, and I thought I'd share part of the lyrics here with you in honor of school starting, and the blessing of still having my sweet friend in my life.

Betty Co-ed has lips of red for Harvard
Betty Co-ed has eyes of Yale's deep blue
Betty Co-ed's a golden haired for Princeton
Her dress I guess is black for old Purdue!

Betty Co-ed's a smile for Pennsylvania
Her heart is Dartmouth's treasure, so 'tis said
Betty Co-ed is loved by every college boy
But I'm the one who's loved by Betty Co-ed!

A Moment's Reflection

When giving our hearts to a child, it is more than giving them our love. It is in forgiving them as well as asking them for their forgiveness when we have offended them. Children need to know that in making a mistake they will not be loved less. There is no dishonor in asking a 3-year-old’s forgiveness when you have lost your temper or hurt them in some way. It teaches them the value of humility, and that love can indeed bear all things.

Time for a child is as much as they can get with us. Most children don’t care about “quality time.” Children just want to be with you. And the time they do get to spend with you is precious to them.

We can all remember time spent in our childhood with various adults in our lives – aunts, uncles, grandparents, family friends, ward members, teachers and so on. In most of those memories we cannot always remember what we were doing, but we can remember the feeling the encounter left us with.

The Savior has taught us by His example and His words that children are special. They are to be treated as such. They are a gift from Him to us. To all of us. They are not our right, they are not our property. They are our treasures. They are our blessings.

I hope I never forget this.

A THOUGHT FOR THE WEEKEND

Beautiful young people are accidents of nature, but beautiful old people are works of art.

Eleanor Roosevelt
1884-1962

Farewell

Randy Pausch, a computer science professor at Carnegie Mellon who’s "The Last Lecture," about facing terminal cancer became an Internet sensation and a best-selling book, has died. He was 47. He was an amazing man who influenced many with his positive outlook on life and on facing death.

Influences that last

I have been thinking lately about a teacher who made a profound impact in my life. My sophomore English teacher in high school was a woman named Joann Hamm. I still feel her influence in my life.

The year she was my teacher it was her first at our school, and she was somewhat avant-garde in her approach. She had a huge display in her room that had "Thoughts for Thinkers" written across the top. Each month she would display a thought from someone there which we would discuss. But every day she had a section of the blackboard (yes, we had blackboards in those days!) that she had marked "Words of Wisdom" with a quote from a usually famous person. She required us to keep a notebook in which we would collect these quotations. At the beginning of each class session we would discuss the daily quote and what it meant. And believe me, even at that young age we had some pretty lively talks!

The other thing that she introduced me to was keeping a journal. She pounded into our heads over and over again that this was not a "diary" and that she wanted us to write about what we thought. Sometimes she would have us sit in a circle around her and she would try to get us to think outside of ourselves. At 15 the world pretty much revolves around yourself, so this was something to tackle. But she would sit quietly and say to us, "Just think, somewhere right now there is someone being born, someone is going to the bathroom, someone is eating dinner, someone is dying."

And we would think. And think and think, and soon we learned that we weren't the center of the universe. We learned there were different ways to look at things. And, in my case, I learned to love words. I love the power they have, how they can indeed make you think, how they can motivate you, comfort you, inspire you, help you to grow and learn. I love to read words, listen to words and to write words.

Ms. Hamm gave me a precious gift that year. I will forever be grateful to have had her as my teacher.

Do you have a teacher who impacted your life?

A THOUGHT FOR THE WEEKEND

I have a higher and grander standard of principle than George Washington. He could not lie; I can, but I won't.

Mark Twain
1835 - 1910

Memory Tag

I saw this on my friend's site and thought it would be fun.

1. As a comment on my blog, leave one memory that you and I had together. It doesn't matter if you knew me a little or a lot, anything you remember!

2. Next, re-post these instructions on your blog and see how many people leave a memory about you. If you leave a memory about me, I'll assume you're playing the game and I'll come to your blog and leave one about you.

Can't wait to read the memories!!

Making Choices

Have you ever noticed that when you are supposed to learn a lesson that the Lord sends His spirit to you to help you learn it? He also has been sending me friends with hearts of pure gold. In my effort to try and concentrate on the positive I am being taught by some of the most amazing women. My friend Rachel posted a poem that touched my heart as well as taught a lesson.

My friend Nancy sent me an email about making choices. When we wake up each morning we each have a choice to make, we can choose to be happy or to be sad. When bad things happen we can choose to be a vicitim or to learn and go on. When tragedy hits us, we can choose to live or to die. Which choices will you make? Which will I? Well I am choosing to be happy, to learn and to live.

Adjusting my attitude is so hard, since it seems to me that life today throws us more than curve balls, it's throwing anvils at us. But with the friendships I have been blessed with, the women around me at church who inspire me to reach higher, I know that the Lord is telling me I am on the right path.

Putting Myself Out There

I've been dealing with discrimination for many years. There are so many people out there who judge me based on my weight and not on my heart that I have learned to keep inside myself. This is a hard thing for me since I am naturally interested in people (from my years as a reporter) and like to talk and find out about others. But it has become increasingly hard for me to do this when I sense others disapproval of me.

In my new effort to have a more positive outlook (as per President Hinckley's example) I am trying to put myself out there again. Sometimes I think that we see only the outside and if we can get a glimpse of what a person is truly like we'll see that the two don't always blend. The movie "Shallow Hal" illustrates this quite nicely, I think, when Hal is given the chance to see people as they are inside. A quite beautiful woman looks hideous because she is selfish and greedy, while someone who is very unattractive looks very handsome because they are loving and compassionate and generous.

And truth be told, don't we all have flaws? Mine are just so obvious that it's easy to make a snap judgement of me. Others can hide theirs easier. I think if we can overcome our fears and be open with each other we can learn, truly learn, that we are all brothers and sisters. Discrimination of any kind is wrong, and we know that. But sometimes we need to be reminded. These old adages like "you can't judge a book by its cover" hang on year after year because they are true.

I just wanted to say that if you have a problem with someone give them a chance. Maybe they are dealing with something you know nothing about. A good friend of mine used to say that if you scratched the surface of anyone you will find a hero underneath. We're all heroes, doing the best we can in this life. We all want to love and be loved, we all want to be seen and heard for who we are, not what we are.

I hope I can do that. I know I'm going to try.

A THOUGHT FOR THE WEEKEND

"I am asking that we stop seeking out the storms and enjoy more fully the sunlight. I am suggesting that as we go through life we "accentuate the positive." I am asking that we look a little deeper for the good ..... Look for the sunlight through the clouds."

Gordon B. Hinckley

1910-2008

Waiting for the Bell

I've decided to take a chance and post one of my short stories. It's one I wrote last Christmas. It's sort of fanciful, titled WAITING FOR THE BELL. I'd love comments and/or suggestions. I hope you enjoy .....

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The snow had fallen steadily most of the morning. Shaking her handlebars Maude could feel the cold seeping into her. A classic bicycle she had a couple of spots where her paint had chipped off and the ice had settled in. She strained to hear if the bell had rung yet. It was the last day of school and she could hear the sounds of the Christmas party in her girl Lucy’s class. She had helped her bring two dozen ginger snaps that morning balanced precariously on the book carrier over her rear tire. Lucy was almost vibrating with excitement. Holidays seemed to do that for the girl.

The bicycle next to her was grand. There were no chips in her paint and her chrome was polished and shining, even though snow covered most of her. She had been sleeping most of the day and Maude noticed that she too had now cleared the snow off her handlebars and seat. A long sigh came from her.

“You okay?” Maude asked.

“Oh sure. It’s great standing here all day waiting for something to do.”

“It can be hard,” Maude agreed. “My name’s Maude, by the way. I belong to Lucy Philpott.”

“I’m Henrietta,” her companion replied. “Mary Odem is my owner.”

“Which class is your girl in?”

“She’s in sixth grade, Mrs. Fitzgerald’s class,” Henrietta admitted.

“Lucy is in Mrs. Fitzgerald’s class as well!” Maude cried. “Both our girls know each other. How wonderful!”

“I suppose,” Henrietta said. A small sniff let Maude know she’d noticed her appearance. But the little bike had dealt with the likes of Henrietta before, and ignored her reaction.

“I wonder why we haven’t met before. I know most of the bikes that bring their children to school.”

“Mary doesn’t ride me very often; at least not to school. She was forced to this morning since both her parents had to be at work early. I can tell you, Mary was so upset I was afraid she was going to leave me lying in the snow just for spite!” Henrietta shivered again, snow flying everywhere.

They both heard a burst of laughter from inside the classroom and the sound of the children’s voices raised in a happy rendition of Frosty the Snowman. Maude felt warm at the sound. She had overheard Lucy asking her mother for a new wicker basket to put on Maude and she was looking forward to Christmas with as much anticipation as her girl.

“I wish it was time to go,” Henrietta said, her voice tired.

“How did you and Mary get together?” Maude asked.

“The usual way,” Henrietta answered. “Her parents bought me for her.”

“They bought you for her?” Maude repeated. “Were you a birthday present?”

“No. She wanted a bicycle and they came into the store and looked until she picked me. Her father said it would allow her to get around without them having to drive her everywhere. But Mary soon lost interest in me. She only rides me when her parents cannot or will not drive her. How about you? Did Lucy’s parents give you to her for her birthday?”

“Well, no,” Maude said slowly. “Actually, Lucy has no father and her mother works very hard to keep things together. My girl had to work to get me for herself.”

“How could a young girl buy you herself?”

Henrietta’s voice displayed her disbelief, and Maude tried to be patient as she told her how Lucy had come to get her. The memory of that day was one of Maude’s happiest. A large store, it wasn’t a fancy bike shop like Henrietta had come from, but was full of excitement and mothers pushing shopping carts, and small children stroking her and looking at the other bicycles around her.

Then Lucy had shown up. Mrs. Philpott was with her, her younger brother too. Her eyes had lit up when she’d spotted Maude. She’d run her hands along her handlebars before turning her shining face to her mother.

“Isn’t she beautiful? And I have just the right amount. Can I buy her?”

Her mother’s careworn face smiled at her daughter. “Of course, sweetheart. You stay here and keep watch over your prize and I’ll go find a sales clerk.”

And just like that Maude came to be Lucy’s.

Over the next few months she’d learned how her new owner had come to purchase her. Every day after school she had something to do, just an hour or two, usually earning only a few dollars, but she was a hard worker. Babysitting little ones so Mrs. Cagle could do her errands, helping Mr. Glover weed his garden over the summer, and delivering the baked goods Mrs. Wickham made to earn extra money for her family. But by far Lucy’s favorite after school job was helping old Mrs. Sullivan.

Lucy stopped by two to three days a week to help out. She would clean the bathrooms, straighten up the living room, change and wash the bedding, and other simple tasks that Mrs. Sullivan, an elderly widow, had trouble doing for herself. None of the chores were terribly difficult for a ten-year-old girl, and Lucy was used to helping at home.

Maude had learned that at first Lucy did it because she liked Mrs. Sullivan, but soon the grateful woman had taken to paying her. Now Lucy was a regular, and had saved the money from all her “jobs” to get Maude.

“I help her get to school, to her after school jobs, and to run errands for her mother. I know she needs me,” Maude added, “and being her bicycle is the best job in the world.”

Henrietta was quiet for so long that Maude thought perhaps she’d gone back to sleep.

“I’m kept in the garage next to Mr. Odem’s car,” she said at last. “Sometimes Mary’s parents talk before going into the house and I can hear them. Mr. Odem talks about how it means more to work for things than to have them handed to you. But Mrs. Odem always talks him into letting her give Mary what she wants.”

Now it was Maude’s turn to be quiet. As they both sat there the snow started falling again just as the end of day bell began to ring.

“I think Mr. Odem’s right. Here I was thinking I was a finer bike than you but I see you are much better than I could hope to be. You will always be an important part of Lucy’s life. Even when she is a grown woman with children of her own she will remember the little bike that made her so happy. I will have no such place in Mary’s childhood memories.”

As their girls came out they could hear Mary on her cell phone complaining about the snow, demanding her father pick her up. Maude could feel Henrietta’s disappointment that she wouldn’t be taking Mary home from school.

Lucy came out full of smiles and excitement. She began brushing the snow from Maude and talking about getting home before it got any later.

“Goodbye, Maude,” Henrietta whispered. “Merry Christmas.”

As Lucy climbed onto her and began pedaling Maude knew it would be.