Cue Hallelujah Chorus

A new keyboard - and the all important "A" - and I'm one jubilant gal.

It's really the little things, isn't it?

In Honor of This History-Making Day

Really. You have no idea how much I crack myself up.

Missionaries Coming for Dinner: A Prep Course

We were 'feeding the missionaries' last night, and because I often lay awake at night dreading the things my children tend to say and do when other adults visit our home, I figured a little pop quiz was in order. Sort of a true/false quiz except the possible answers were appropriate/inappropriate. (My children will need years of therapy one day for my overuse of the word 'appropriate'.)

I began by suggesting scenarios like "eating with our fingers?" and "interrupting?" and they were quickly and easily distinguishing the appropriate behaviors from inappropriate. Things got interesting when they began suggesting scenarios of their own devising. It went something like this...

Wonderboy: I know! We should not talk about gross things like diapers and using the potty.
Me: Right.
Princess S: And we should keep our clothes on. Especially our pants.
Me: Precisely. Our usual policy of clothing: optional at dinner will not apply tonight.
Wonderboy: No loud burping. This will be REALLY hard for me because I burp a lot.
Me: Yes, suppress the burps, please.
Princess S: And we definitely should not toot.
Me: Uhuh.
Wonderboy: And it's most important that we try very, very hard not to pinch anyone, especially not our visitors.

There was more, but it truly made no difference. Most of the "inappropriate" behaviors made an appearance last night to our horror and chagrin. Best of all, Wonderboy made a point of telling our visitors "I really like to climb up to my tree house in the back yard, except the tree house doesn't have a floor...or a roof........or walls....and well, it's really just a tree, but if there was a tree house, that would be really cool."

Hello, gorgeous

The thing is, ever since E and I got hitched, and then became young train-hopping transients in Europe, and ate the most lovely yogurt somewhere outside Prague, I cannot stomach yogurt available in the U.S. Sure it was likely made with full fat milk, but it wasn't loaded up with gelatins, artificial flavors and an astonishing amount of sugar. It was lovely. Did I already say that?

Oh, I buy yogurt, and then the kids eat it, or it sits in the refrigerator until we look at it suspiciously before throwing it out. But I almost never, ever, eat it. That is until I bought a virtual vat of plain "mountain-style" lowfat nothing-but-yogurt yogurt at Costco, topped it with fresh fruit and a wee drizzle of honey, and immediately fell in love of the truest kind. And I've since been wondering between mouthfuls, "Where have you been all my life you lovely, lovely perfection?"

Sunday Dinner

Look at me do gourmet. A few old-fashioned ice cube trays and a colorful assorment of fruits, veggies and deli meat and these three are happy clams. And this way E won't have to tear himself from the book he's completely absorbed by in order to prepare the fancy pork loin dinner he had planned. And what's he reading you ask? Twilight. That's right folks, he's reading Twilight. Nobody's more surprised than me.

This weekend we had a little family outing to Science City. Just look at the enthusiam...
We explored the underground pipe system and realized perhaps the experience wasn't meant for adults as we tried to unwedge ourselves.

E bravely attempted the suspended bike. That was until it began to sway and he whimpered "mommy" and had to be coaxed back. No, not really, but that would have been funny anyway.

All systems GO

We've come out the other end of December mostly in tact, and with a collective sigh of relief having survived all the festivities that make up the holidays. So here is a poorly presented recap of the goings-on around here lately...

Santa was given the particulars. Unfortunately, he was unable to stop fidgeting with the beard and muttering about his summer home in Connecticut. Good thing this Santa has a day job, because he was a pretty lousy jolly man. And as far as I know, Santa doesn't 'summer' in CT.

This guy was one of the first grade reps to compete in the primary spelling bee. He was pretty disgruntled about having to spell with an audience, but he was a brave fellow and even shot me a quick smile. He's pretty much a smarty-pants. And I'm not just saying that.


Fia had a couple of dancing gigs. She's not a huge fan of the weekly dance class, but if there's a stage and audience involved, she's your gal.


And here's what a 17 hour drive to Utah looks like. Some of us weather it better than others...





Snap shot of my side of the family - two versions. The second take is my personal favorite. We're a cheeky bunch.


A trip to the cabin for some serious sledding and snowmobiling. Later that night, Fia whispered "Mommy - those things we rode today? They ROCKED!"Uncle Tuffy. Our new snowmobiling super-hero. Adventurer extraordinaire. And all around good sport. Especially when our basset and greyhound decided they were simply not interested in running behind snowmobiles up to the cabin, thank you very much, and had to be held on Chris' lap and snowmobile-chauffeured up the mountain. Pansies.
And yes, the snow in Utah is, in fact, blue. Don't even blame it on my crummy photography and Photoshop skills. It's blue, I tell you.



If you ever want your very own Napoleon Dynamite boots, pre-weathered for your comfort, I can tell you that UT's very own D.I. might just have a pair for you at the bargain-basement price of $4.00. And seriously, why didn't anyone ever tell me how upscale D.I. really is? I would have spent longer if we weren't eager to hit the snow.




And that my friends, is as much as I can offer at this point. One of the Great Lessons of 2008 will be to never vacuum the laptop keyboard with the hose attachment, because the "A" might be sucked right off and irreparable. My left pinky finger is literally tender since every "A" I type requires about 47 tries on the little rubber bubble left behind.

nd if I didn't try to type tht letter (nd sve my poor pinky finger) my lredy blthering blog posts would be even more torturous to red. So relly tht letter, or the bscence of the letter, is the reson I've been neglectful of my blog. Tht's my story nywy. Hppy New Yer!

First snowfall, and an interesting conversation

We had a 1/2" of snow this weekend, more of a dusting really, but you wouldn't know it from the kids' reactions. They had grand plans for all that snow, mostly a lot of sledding, but probably a few snow angels and a snow fort or two. E was so sure that any attempt at sledding would be a huge flop, that he told the kids to go right ahead and suit up for a trip behind the school to sled in the astounding snowfall, and then proceeded to toss on .... a pair of Crocs. Crocs!?! Like, Duh! But that's how I know he's a devoted dad. Because when it wasn't a complete flop, he stayed out there in Crocs (Duh!!) so they could experience the joy and wonder of the seasons first snowfall.

And now for a completely random and not at all related dialogue:

This morning Wonderboy wouldn't get out of bed for school - he said he had a tummy ache. But a few minutes later he shuffled into my bathroom and turned on the water in the shower.

Me: Wait - how's your tummy?

Him: It's fine mom. I think it was just trying extra hard to smoosh up food in there. And I think it was really having a hard time smooshing up that whole ice cube I swallowed last night. It was a big ice cube and I just gulped it down whole.....Oh, oh! Hey! I think that ice cube just melted because I need to go potty RIGHT NOW!