13th Year Curse Continues...

Oh 13th Year - why hast thou curs-ed me? Any followers of my blog have surely heard of my 13th Cursed Year of Marriage . Definitely not one of our finer years as man and wife. Of course, in the beginning DH wasn't a believer in the 13th year curse until I flooded the house in June, we had to replace the van's transmission in July, the sprinklers went haywire in August and we were hit with a computer virus in September.

Sure in October and November we had some unlucky things happen - but nothing that could compare to the first 6 months of the year - as a matter of fact DH and I had started to believe that our luck was changing. The weekend before Christmas put that belief quickly to rest.

We arrived in Idaho Friday, and the plan was to stay through Sunday or Monday weather permitting - getting home just in time for Christmas Eve. We stayed at my brother-in-law's new fancy and famous home and enjoyed ourselves thoroughly. The food was great - ping pong, air hockey and Wii tournaments galore (including a players bracket system - just like March Madness). It was truly magical.

Sunday afternoon DH looked up on weather.com and saw there was going to be a big storm coming in around midnight. We really didn't want to be snowed in for Christmas Eve - so we decided to head home that night. We were at DH's parents and had to head back to his brother's house to pick up our stuff (about 30 minutes away). About 2-3 miles from my brother-in-laws home - the van started making a noise (Remember when you were a kid and you're brother would clothespin a baseball card to the spokes of his wheel to make that cool noise? Well that's the sound the van was making and there was nothing cool about it).

Lucky for us DH's brother & dad were right behind us. Turns out it was the serpentine belt - and on a Sunday night there was no hope for a mechanic to fix it right away. DH's bro towed us to the nearest mechanic shop (which was only 1/2 a mile away). Then we continued on our way to my bro-in-law's house - where it looked like we were staying the night. Thank goodness the auto shop was open on Christmas Eve - or this story wouldn't just be cursed it would be just plain sad too. By 10:30 AM we were on the road - $300 lighter in our pocket - but at least we were homeward bound.

Does the story end here? In a normal year it might - but not in the 13th Year of Marriage. About 2 hours down the road (in a blizzard on snowpacked roads no less), the service engine light came on. We took the van in yesterday and $100 later we found out that there are four error codes for the dang transmission - plus some transmission leaks and a $400 oil leak. We are still under warranty for our 24 karat gold lined transmission - so we are hoping this means no more cost - just a few more headaches.

Fortunately for us, the end is in sight. Come March 17th our unlucky 13th year will come to a screeching halt - and our 14th year will commence. So as 2008 approaches - I'd like to make a toast with my diet coke can held high in the air -- may all the bad luck we have had--never find you and yours--(at least for the next 3 months).

She Lives...

I'm back from my blogging hiatus. You will note my blogging ended about the same time the writers went on strike--I was trying to keep it real. You know how news reporters will go live in a prison for 2 weeks - to see out it is on the inside. Or they go to Iraq and live with the soldiers for a season? That's basically what I was doing.

So, now I'm back - and I'm hopeful the writers and the powers that be will take my cue -- kiss and make up and start writing again. Just in case they don't--I have a few shows up my sleeve that I can start watching. I've been stockpiling them on tivo since September.

In January, if worse comes to worse - I will at least have some new shows to watch. One is "The Women's Murder Club" - it's based on some books by James Patterson. Looks pretty good. I did watch the premiere and I liked it. I also have a 1/2 season worth of "Moonlight" - it's a vampire show - and with all the vampire hoopla I thought I'd give it a try. I was also tivoing Project Runway - until I realized it is on ALL the time and they do tons of marathons of it (plus I was running out of space). Of course, this will all be for naught - if I run out of shows by mid-February and the writers are still on strike.

My DH and I were talking about this the other day. I think if the strike continues long term that television will go completely to reality shows. So now is the time to get your reality TV show ideas pitched to Hollywood. I told my DH we are pretty funny and I think we'd make a great reality TV show. "Mormons in Draper" or something catchy (with my luck HBO would probably think it was a Big Love rip-off and sue us).

So it is a quandary I find myself in with my television viewing practices. My shows from September have left me hanging - and shows I was looking forward too (24 in January) - have been indefinitely postponed. I suppose instead of looking for way to fill my TV viewing quota -- I could take advantage of all the extra free time I have in my evenings and do something productive?? Hmmm?

A Crowd Pleaser

I have a few set meals I make whenever I have a large gathering of people at my home. One of them is BBQ pork sandwiches, with potato salad, chips, pork and beans etc. It's a crowd pleaser, easy to do, makes plenty, and easy to keep warm in the crock pot.

After this last weekend, my menu might be changing. We were getting ready to head to Boise for Jay's swim meet. Around lunchtime, DH ran to the grocery store for me. When he got home, he had picked up some Arby's sandwiches. We do not eat at Arby's very often - maybe twice a year - so the kids were excited. Excited-until DH broke out the Arby-Q's. My twins hate bbq sandwiches - so they weren't thrilled. I am not usually a fan of the Arby-Q either because it is way to saucy - but I was hungry so I ate. We ended up making the twins a pnut butter and jelly sandwich because they could barely choke down 1/2 of their Arby-Q.

After lunch, we loaded up the van and headed to Boise. Destination: Auntie G's house. About an hour out of Boise, I decided to give Auntie G a call and let her know we were close. Being the great hostess that she is, she told me that she had dinner cooking and it would be ready by the time we got there. She also had invited my cousins and their little kids - so it was going to be a big group. "What's on the menu?" I asked. "BBQ Beef sandwiches," she answered. I tried not to laugh - man my twins weren't going to be happy.

Upon arriving at Auntie G's, we did indeed eat BBQ beef sandwiches, & potato and jello salad. By the way, they were much, much better than the Arby-Q's -- my Aunt's a great cook. Plus, she actually had some meat without the sauce - so the kids lucked out with a roast beef sandwich.

The next day was Jay's swim meet. My aunt and I took the twins over to my cousins house to visit, while DH, Jay and my father-in-law went to the meet (I know I'm a bad mom - but the meets last forever and I knew the younger kids would hate it). Sure enough, the meet went from 7:30-1:30 - after which the team went to the "Cheesecake Factory." Originally I was going to meet DH for lunch somewhere - but since it was so late in the day & the twins had already eaten - I decided not to meet them. My Aunt and I hadn't eaten so we headed back to her house for another round of BBQ sandwiches. They really were quite good - but my palatte was begging for cheesecake (which my DH did bring me a slice YAY!)

After the meet and dinner, we loaded up the van, said our goodbyes and headed to my bro-in-law's house (about 2 hours away). We had dinner plans with them and my sis-in-law is a great cook - so we were all looking forward to dinner. We arrived at their home - and I immediately smelled BBQ sauce. I figured I was so used to smelling it that it probably was just my nose being sensitive. Guess what - my nose was right. On the menu - BBQ pork sandwiches, with funeral potatoes, green salad, corn - it was a spread.

Luckily, none of the kids moaned "Not again". It was actually pretty good - and the side dishes were divine (just ask the twins cause they didn't eat their meat). I still am a fan of the BBQ sandwiches -but I'm taking a break from making it for awhile. And for my next large gathering I'm thinking pizza will do.

Project Sister day in Full Swing

Last week, was the offical beginning of Project Sister Day. I headed over to my favorite sis's house at the appointed time. It was BYOI (bring your own iron) - and from 1 until 3 we ironed, watched Project Runway (a first time for me - but I am now putting it on my Tivo) and Biggest Loser - and had a fab time. We got through that pile of shirts and pants in no time.

This week it's my turn. I know my dear sis thinks she is off the hook because it is Thanksgiving. But she's not! I am making her go shopping with me at 5 am - in the name of Project Sister Day. Jill has already informed me that she is not participating in this years shopping festivities (well - she did offer to meet me for breakfast around 9 am). But the joke is on her - not only will she be shopping - she will be shopping early! Hooray for Project Sister Day!

Mayonnaise or Miracle Whip?

Having been married for 13 years, you would think the topic of Mayo vs Miracle Whip would've been discussed by now. Well, it didn't come up until last Friday. We were heading to Idaho for a swim meet - and to hurry things along I sent DH to the store with a short shopping list: Milk, bread, diet coke, snacks for the trip - and mayonnaise.

DH returned home with his shopping list (and then some - but that's another post for another day). He had done a pretty decent job of shopping - got some great deals. But instead of buying mayo - he bought a big jar of Miracle Whip - YUCK!
"Why did you buy this nasty Miracle Whip?" I asked. DH answered - "I've always like Miracle Whip better than Mayonnaise." I replied with, "What the?"

Now, I grew up on Miracle Whip - and once I went to college and tried Mayonnaise--I was sold. I vowed never to force Miracle Whip on my children (thereby doing the opposite by forcing Mayo on them).

Who knew that my husband felt so strongly about the dressing that goes on his sandwiches? I guess we will have to become like other couples in this world who instead of letting something divide them - they compromise. My fridge will now be a Mayo/Miracle Whip friendly fridge.

The Rollercoaster of House Cleaning

Recently I hosted a Birthday Brunch at my home for some of the ladies in my ward. I'm proud to say my house was in ship-shape order (after two days of deep cleaning it better have been). At one point during the cleaning process, I thought to myself - it should not be this difficult to clean my house and keep it up. But, as I thought about it, I came to the conclusion that there are different ways to clean your house depending on the visitor. I subscribe to the rollercoaster of house cleaning -- some days I'm up and ready to clean - and other days I'm not. So I can't really be held accountable for my wiley ways.

Everyday Cleaning: This can last anywhere from one hour to a full eight hours. I've often told my sister, that if someone would just call me in the morning and tell me that they were going to be to my house in a couple of hours and wanted the grand tour - my housework would get done so much quicker. On days that I've managed to drag the cleaning out all day, that final hour before the kids get home involves an aerobic workout of epic proportions.

Dad's Out of Town Cleaning: Can you say messy house?

Hometeacher Cleaning: We've all been there - it's the end of the month and after church on Sunday your hometeacher calls wanting to know if they can come over for a visit. You've just finished Sunday dinner, and you realize that even though the primary song says Saturday is a special day - and that it's supposed to be the day you get ready for Sunday - the only thing you did to prepare for Sunday was make sure your fridge was stocked with diet coke (DH frowns on breaking the Sabbath for a diet coke and a migraine rarely changes his mind). Once again, it's time for the aerobic workout - but with the kids helping it only takes 30 minutes to straighten the house (as a matter of fact, if I ask the kids to straighten up the front room on a Sunday, invariable they ask - "are the hometeachers coming today?")

Overnight Visitors: This is the ultimate of the deep clean because you have people coming and staying who may be opening drawers in the kitchen. Do I really want them to know that I don't just have one junk drawer but three? My kids hate overnight visitors because they know it's going to involve cleaning a lot of nooks and even more crannies.

Family Visitors: If it's mom or my sis then it's anybody's guess as to what my house is going to look like. Any other type of family, we are just doing the basics - bathroom, main living area, kitchen etc. I figure family won't judge me if my kitchen rugs need to be washed - but they might if their foot sticks to the floor.

My Kids' Friends: If I want a clean house - really fast. All I have to say is, "Hey, does anyone want to invite a friend over?" Those kids of mine clean like there is no tomorrow at the drop of the word 'friends'. During the summer, most days they'd have their work done by 930 am so they could play. Of course, there is a negative to the aspect of cleaning for friends. My kids + Their friends = Messes.

Relief Society Visitors: These ladies with their sweet smiles and nice personalities are the shrewdest of the shrewd visitors. Dust? Better not have any. Floor? Better be spotless. Judge not that ye be judged? That's been thrown out your streak free window. I'm kidding a little bit of course. But, I do feel like my house needs to be on its best behavior when RS sisters come by for luncheons or meetings.

My favorite scripture is found in Doctrine & Covenants 88:119 Organize yourselves; prepare every needful thing, and establish a house, even a house of prayer, a house of fasting, a house of faith, a house of learning, a house of glory, a house of order, a house of God;

There are times in my life when I feel like I'm living in a organized house of order - and there are other times when I'm not. I like balance - so hopefully one of these days I will be able to balance my time and other activities with the cleaning of my house. Until then - welcome to the roller coaster of cleaning that I call home.

Project Sister Day

When I lived in AZ, me and a few of my close girlfriends got together every Thursday to do projects. It varied between crafts, scrapbooking, shopping or just going to lunch. Right before I moved, my garage was a disaster -- the girls offered to help me. So, one lovely spring Thursday, we got together and cleaned out my disaster area - for many hours. It was truly a labor of love. This didn't happen every week - but periodically we got together and served each other - we cleaned out someones closet, folded a basket of socks or decorated a room, etc. Whether we were doing big projects or just little things--the friends serving friends idea was a hit. Those magical times came to a close when I moved. Curses!

Since I've moved, I've searched for friends who could be so near and dear to my heart that I would dare share a messy garage with. Many have been called but few have been chosen. My standards are high for this position. It has to be someone who will let me live my life and not judge me. Some of my new friends have come close - but they haven't been able to prove their undying love for me yet. I don't really have a test - it's a conglomerate of things and situations. Nothing specific really--although I'm sure it involves diet coke.

This afternoon, as I was hanging out with my sister at one of our favorite stores Rod Works, the thought occured to me that the search for a friend who was so near and dear to my heart that I'd let her see my messy garage - had been right under my nose since July! I realized that my sister could be that near and dear friend (I mean, good grief she lived with me for 2 months - what more of a sign did I need than that?) I reminded her of "Project Thursdays" that I had done with my AZ girlfriends - and suggested that we do that together. She loved the idea!

On Tuesday, she came over and helped me redecorate my kitchen and front room - so we are counting that as our first weekly project. She has visions of basement organizing and ironing a big laundry pile. While I'm planning on having her help me redo my craft room and maybe paint a wall in my family room. No matter what we do, it will be worthwhile - because not only do I get to hang out with my favorite sister, but we'll be being productive while we do it.

Third Times the Charm

For the most part, my DH is great at hanging pictures on the wall. I am demanding in my requests that things be centered and at the perfect height - and as a rule he does a decent job. He was such a great sport when it came to the hanging of the "clock wall" -- 5 big clocks on a vaulted ceiling wall, were not an easy task for sure. He had great success in the piano room with my over sized topiary pictures - and a very, very heavy mirror. He also hung without complaint - an awkward, but heavy clock in my kitchen.

There is only one issue DH seems to have with the hanging of pictures and that is it generally takes him 3 times to get it right. The clock wall is an exception to this rule - he was pretty much on with the clocks (although I wanted them to be catawampus - so there was a bit more room for error).

Recently, we moved the piano from the family room into the living room. This required some redecorating. As mentioned above, in the front room we have 2 over sized topiary pictures and a heavy mirror. Basically, we had to flip flop the walls - moving the mirror to the wall where the topiary pictures were and vice versa.

When we took the topiary pictures off the wall, I laughed. I had forgotten my DH's secret to his success with the hanging of pictures - until I saw the 12 holes in the wall (each picture had two hooks on either side of it - so 3X2=6X2=12 lovely holes.

My daughter came in and asked what the deal was with all the holes, and I explained to her the "3 hole rule" that DH had in hanging pictures. Then I started to sing, "He's once, twice, three times a hanger..." After my beautiful song, and a little eye-rolling - DH announced that this time it was going to be different - this time it was going to only take him one try - because now he was a hanging professional.

Mirror Hanging Take One: DH put in his wall anchors, screwed in the screw and then with my assistance we hung the mirror. Unfortunately, it was too low. (In his defense, the mirror has two hinged hooks on the back - that slide with the screw in the wall and it makes for a tricky hanging). But still, suffice it to say, "He's once, twice, three times the hanger..."

Mirror Hanging Take Two: DH just knew he'd be able to hang the mirror this second time around. I mean, all he had to do was raise it up - and we would be good to go. DH put in his wall anchors, screwed in the screws, and once again we hung the picture. I could tell it was just right -- the mirror was perfectly level and looked fab. At least, until we moved the piano back to the wall. Then we discovered it was not centered above the piano and that is definitely one of my requirements. At this point, there were so many holes in the wall, I suggested we just take a marker, connect the dots and we'd have some great modern art. What can I say except "He's once, twice, three time the hanger..."

Mirror Hanging Take Three: With the mirror off the wall, my daughter again came into the room and commented on the holes in the wall -- she said, "Dad with all those holes in the wall, what are we going to do if we ever move?" (I suggested new drywall - which DH didn't appreciate). Since this was the third time, we both knew that the picture hanging for the evening was almost coming to a close. Sure enough, DH moved the wall anchors over two inches, screwed in the screws and we hung the picture. It was fabulously centered, gloriously level and I couldn't be happier. Hey, we may not get things right the first time, or maybe even the second time - but mark us down for the third time cause we're golden!

And hey DH, this next cheesy song is just for you, "You're once, twice, three times a hanger - but we love you!"

My Littlest Pet Shop

My kids are always asking for me for a pet -- dogs, cats, birds (yes - they are so desperate that even a bird sounds good). It's not that I don't like animals - I grew up with dogs. But, they weren't the kind you bonded with - they were my dad's hunting dogs and they served there purpose. I just haven't been able to find a purpose for a pet in our family yet.

Now, I don't mind low maintenance pets - like fish. For the twins birthday, my sis gave them each an African frog. They aren't too bad -- a lot like having a fish - and I think more fun to watch. Although I must admit, the best kind of pets are the stuffed ones.

My neighborhood is full of cute little expensive dogs. My good friend has a darling Shih Tzu that absolutely adores me - I'm not joking. He shows this by licking my toes incessantly and hopping up on my lap everytime I sit down. This isn't the first dog that has enjoyed the toe-licking. It seems that every cute little yippy-yappy dog I come in contact with is trying to buy my love with toe licking. What is it with me and these little furballs? They must have some sort of sensor that makes them want to convince me that I really should love them. Unfortunately, I do not return the adoration.

So, as my children continue to feel deprived, I like to remember the quote of a good friend of mine, Jolene, who says something to the effect of, "I can either be a pet lover or a kid lover - take your pick." (75% of the time my kids pick the kid lover).

My Sabbath Day

Yesterday, just after Sunday dinner, our doorbell rang. I answered it. A rough teenage girl, barefoot and in her pajamas - with many piercings in her face - stood on my front porch. She said she was new to the area - had just moved here - and she was lost and wondered if she could use my phone. Hoping she wasn't here to case the joint, I said sure - and sent one of the kids to get it for her.

She called her friend asking him if he could come and pick her up. Then she said to me - "I don't know where I am - what's the address over here?" I told her the main crossroads of my neighborhood. She told the boy over the phone where she was and then hung up, said thanks and left. I shut the door and didn't pay attention to where she went - I just assumed she'd head over to the main crossroad and wait.

About five minutes later, my phone rang. It was a cell phone number I didn't recognize, but I figured it was the boy looking for the teenage girl so I answered it. I was right - he asked for "Taylor". I told them that she had left to where I assumed she told them to meet her. He told me she hadn't specified a meeting place and that they were lost and asked for further instructions. I gave them better directions and hung up.

Within a few minutes, they called again. They were in front of my house and still couldn't find "Taylor". Man - I was hoping I wasn't in for a home invasion because these kids were rough characters too. They were in a beat up old SUV - but they seemed truly concerned about Taylor. I went out onto my front porch and talked to them - telling them maybe she went out the other side of the subdivision. It really was a puzzle. They took off in the direction I told them - and I never heard back from them.

I just dropped my kids off at school, and was reminded of "Taylor" and her plight as I turned into my subdivison. It's pretty cold outside - I hope they found her. I have the boy's cell phone number - so I could call - but I won't. I'm just curious - and I'll admit a little worried about this girl without shoes.

Thinking about Taylor this morning, makes me wish I would've done more. Or at least offered her some socks. It was around 5 in the evening - probably about 40 degrees outside - and she had no shoes and a light jacket on. Underneath her gothic makeup and piercings, she seemed nervous. Was she on drugs? A runaway? What kind of trouble was she in? Why did she choose my house? It wasn't like mine was the first house she came to in our subdvision. What was her story? Why do I care about someone I'll never see again?

I guess, I care because of my own future teenage daughters. I have good kids and I pray everyday that they will make good choices and be safe. But, if they are ever in a desparate situation -- I hope they will be able to find a mom who will help them, let them use her phone, and maybe offer them some socks.

Mediocrity at it's Finest

My mom asked me the other day if I liked my dermatologist. I told her he was okay but I wouldn't really recommend him to anyone. This concerned her. "Why are you going to someone you don't like?" she asked. I informed her I was too lazy to drive to a better doctor who was 20 minutes further away (this guy is already 15 minutes away). I also told her that I was fine with mediocre doctors as long as it wasn't for something major. I mean, how hard is it to shave off a mole? I think I could've done it myself - but I like the numbing medication too much.

So, this morning I had a dermatologist appointment for "nevus eradication" (the medical term sounds so much fancier than "mole removal"). The secretary from the office had left me a voicemail message two days ago reminding me of my 11:00 appointment - and informing me at the Dr's request to arrive 20 minutes before said appointment. At my last visit - I had waited 30 minutes in the waiting room and another 30 in the examining room - but I figured I'd better do what they said.

Upon my arrival at the office, (at 10:40 no less) I noticed a fairly crowded room. Being that he is the only Dr. in the office - I figured I would have quite the wait. Honestly, I really don't mind waiting for doctors -- as long as they have good magazines and I don't have any kids with me. But, I did wonder when the "prep work" I was there for would begin.

At about 1130, the nurse took me back into the Dr's examination room. She sat down to get my stats - and said "You are here for...You are here for..." She was scanning my file and couldn't find my purpose for the visit. I reminded her "nevus eradication" (well actually - I used the layman's term - but I'm trying to be famous right now). She continued to look and couldn't find it anywhere in my chart. She said finally found my info. But I think she was faking it because she felt so dumb. She looked positively puzzled.

She started to prepare the tray for "nevus eradication". Then she got this huge camera and said she needed to photograph said "nevus". At this point, she left the room. Out in the hall, I could hear her talking (those doctor office walls should be soundproofed). She said, "You know that lady who we have no idea why she's here? Well, she says it's for "nevus eradication" and I need to take pictures and I don't know what to take a picture of."

At this point, I started to reconsider my take on mediocrity. I mean, good grief - what if "nevus eradication" didn't mean mole removal? Admittedly, I was already nervous about getting shots in my eyebrow and forehead - and this chick definitely wasn't making it any better.

The mystery lady in the hall miraculously found the information in my large but concise three page file and showed it to the nurse. She came back in and sheepishly took her pictures. She had me sign some paperwork saying I wouldn't hold them accountable for stuff (I think mediocrity was on that list). Then the doc came in (at noon - for those of you keeping track) and I'm pretty sure he knew what he was doing - at least I hope he did.

Yes, the shot hurt. Yes, the nevus' have been eradicated. And No, I won't be going back to that joker. Maybe mediocrity is okay for some things - but I guess dermatologists aren't one of them.

Halloween, My So-Called Favorite Holiday

Call me a pagan - but Halloween has always been my favorite holiday of the year. Well, at least it used to be my favorite holiday -- until the pressure of the sewing of Halloween costumes overtook my sanity.

I will admit the hatred of costume making is largely due to my procrastination. My kids generally have their costumes picked out in the spring - I'm not kidding. I guess I've instilled in them such a great love for Halloween that the planning generally begins around Christmas time - with the final decision being made around Easter (if only I could instill such a strong love for housework or pulling weeds). So, if I were a smart one, I'd commence with the sewing around Memorial Day weekend. Surely, by doing this I'd have the time and energy to sew 3 costumes (minus the burning of the midnight oil).

When my kids were younger, my mother warned me against sewing costumes. She told me that as they got older - the costumes would get more difficult. I ignored her and had my fill of cute little panda bears, a mermaid, an elephant, rapunzel a flower, and a bee among others. Those were the days. And now my mother's prophecy is coming true. But truly, it's not the costume patterns that have gotten more difficult - it's just my kids are so much bigger - and it takes so much longer to make these larger costumes.

Last year, the twins were Luke Skywalker and Princess Leia. J was a spa girl - which involved only buying her a robe and green face cream - easy peasy! Of course, the week before Halloween, I spent many a late night getting those costumes finished. I even informed the kids that they would be being Luke and Leia this year (of course, in the Spring their request of being a ninja and a witch didn't seem like such a big deal).

This year, I actually bought the fabric and patterns in September. I was so proud of myself. Then my 12 yr old informed me she wanted to be a go-go girl. I tried to beg off on even making her a costume - I mean she's 12 for heaven's sake - but through the power of tears and "but you haven't made me a Halloween costume in 3 years - she won. Things would've still been okay if I would've started the sewing in September - but in mid-October, I had a craft night in my ward that involved me cutting out a bunch of wood - and stressing out over. So the fabric patiently waited in my craft room (the kids waited not so patiently).

With the craft night behind me, I finally felt like I could begin the sewing. I stayed up till midnite Monday night, 2 am Tuesday night. Went to Idaho for a funeral on Wednesday and returned home Thursday at 10 pm. Stayed up til 3 am Thursday night - so the ninja could be ready for fighting at the school Halloween party on Friday (might I also add that sewing costumes in the wee hours of the morning is not recommended - when Mr. Ninja tried on his costume on Friday morning - one sleeve was 4 inches longer than the other, the ties on the front of the costume didn't match up - and his pants ripped out about 2-3 inches in the side seam during recess). Luckily, the 2 witch capes I made (one for my niece and one for my daughter) - were much easier to handle - and so far nothing needs fixing for the witchy poos.

That leaves me with today. Tonight is the trunk-or-treat - and I still have 2 yards of hot pink vinyl calling my name. And yet - here I sit, blogging, procrastinating the day of my repentance - and still planning on cleaning my house before I begin the making of the costume. When will I learn my lesson? Maybe next year. As for now, maybe I'll change my favorite holiday to a low-key one like Veteran's Day or Labor Day (at least until my kids are out of the making of the Halloween costume phase).

Inspired by a Baby

Picking a shenanigan to blog about is usually not a struggle - considering the many I'm faced with on a day to day basis (and sometimes minute to minute). But, today it is difficult for me to focus on the fluff in my life - when my heart is breaking for my dear cousin's recent loss of her baby.

In June, I blogged about what a great example my cousin and her husband had been to our family. Over the past four months - with their newborn baby in the PICU- they have continued to inspire us on a daily basis. They have been truly amazing in their faith and devotion their darling baby, Luke.

Being a part of Luke's life has strengthened my testimony so much - it's amazing what power a sweet little baby can inspire. Before Luke was even born - his life looked bleak. The dr's knew from ultrasounds that he was suffering from a chromosome deletion - and that there most definitely would be heart problems - but that there also could be a myriad of issues. Many prayers were offered in his behalf. He was born in June - a robust little cutie - the biggest and healthiest looking baby in the NICU. And he proved to me what a little faith and prayer can do.

Although he was born with some major heart issues - he survived his heart surgery like a champ. Then came the ups and downs throughout his recovery. He'd have a good week only to have a bad week. On life support one week, and then on mild oxygen the next. Again, many prayers of faith were offered for Luke. And again he proved to me what a little faith and prayer can do.

In September, we almost lost him. The dr's thought he wouldn't make it through the night. Many, many prayers of faith were offered - he was spared. And again he proved to me what a little faith and prayer can do.

Luke was progressing with such leaps and bounds that there was serious talk of moving him out of the ICU this past week -- truly a miracle. They put that on hold due to a fever. Prayers of faith again were offered for him. On Friday, his mama got to feed him a bottle for the first time. And again he proved to me what a little faith and prayer can do.

Saturday, Luke went into cardiac arrest. Prayers of faith were offered on his behalf from many. But this time we had follow the will of the Lord - and know that Luke's completed his job here on earth. He's perfect. He's living with Heavenly Father. And he's happy! I have faith that our prayers will bring comfort to Luke's family at this time - and once again Luke is proving to us what a little faith and prayer can do. He has blessed our lives and we will never forget him.

Top 10 Ways You know you're Addicted to Diet Coke...

10. You don't like to water your Diet Coke down with ice - you need it full strength baby.

9. You're out of Diet Coke in both fridges and you frantically begin searching the house for unopened, warm DC cans (finding one in the basement in the craft room -- in this case of desperation, you are willing to water it down with some ice cubes).

8. If you committed a crime that required capital punishment - you're last request would be a Diet Coke.

7. The last Diet Coke standing in your fridge is in a dented, beat up can (it was dropped accidentally a couple of weeks ago). You were hoping DH would drink it - and he hoped you would. Out of desperation you open the can - only you have to use a sharp object to pierce the bulging top. Now you keep spilling DC on your shirt - because of the bulge & dents in the top of the can.

6. Diet Coke encompasses the bulk of your food storage.

5. When your visiting teachers drop by a treat for the month, it's a 20 oz bottle of Diet Coke.

4. On those quick trips to the grocery store when you just need the necessities - you grab: milk, bread, eggs and Diet Coke.

3. Most people use an outside fridge to store a surplus of groceries - every shelf on yours has a case of Diet Coke on it.

2. The due date on your Diet Coke supply never stands a chance in expiring.

1. On those Diet Coke sales when they have it five 12 packs for 10 dollars - with a limit of 5. You've been known to go in and take advantage of the deal 3 or 4 times in the same day.

0. You actually could've filled a "Top fifty list of ways you know you're addicted to Diet Coke."

Birthday Party Memo to Self...

When planning a birthday party for twin 9 year olds:
Remember to do it on two separate days (a year from now I'm sure I will have forgotten this tidbit). But try to remember that 9 year old girls and boys may be different sexes but the one thing they have in common is they are NOISY! WILD! and RAMBUNCTIOUS! each in their own special way.

When planning a birthday party for twin 9 year olds:
Don't assume that everyone will want to just skate at the roller rink - budget in the bounce zone.

When planning a birthday party for twin 9 year olds:
When one of the boys goes missing (for 10 or 15 minutes) don't freak out and think he's been kidnapped by one of those hoodlum jr high kids. Realize that after pizza, cupcakes and a capri sun - he's probably in the bathroom taking care of some unfinished business.

Nicole, after racing around the skate rink - freaking out about losing her neighbor boy says: "Isaac - have you seen Adam anywhere?"

Isaac: "He's been pooping for like 20 minutes!"

When planning a birthday party for twin 9 year olds:

Remember that treat bags are a necessity. Put it at the top of your list - or be prepared for mutiny - forgetting is not an acceptable excuse.

Finally, when planning a birthday party for twin 9 year olds:
Make sure you have plenty of diet coke & a secret migraine combination of drugs.

You Have Now Entered The Sonic Zone...

Since the invention of Happy Hour & 99 cent coupons, I have been a loyal customer at Sonic. When I lived in AZ the workers at Sonic knew my van, my order and whether or not I was still in my pajamas. Since Sonic was near my kids' school and I had to drive them every day, it was sometimes a twice a day visit.

When I moved to Utah, our new Sonic had Happy Hour in the morning from 6-11 am (they've sinced done away with that) and in the afternoon from 2-5. I'd have one on the way home from the gym everyday - and sometimes in the afternoon whilst I ran my errands. The turnover of employees at this Sonic is high - so I didn't get to know any of the workers as personally as I had in AZ - but I still had my favorites. The boy with the pierced chin really knew how to make a good Diet Coke with lime. The girl from Brazil had such a cute accent, was always quick, and sometimes gave me an extra lemon wedge.

My experiences and memories of Sonic have been good ones. I mean, what's not to like about a place that will give you your lifeline at half price? Now let's fast forward all those hopes and dreams to my last visit at Sonic. My sister and I had just had a long, tiresome day of shopping. We were thirsty, hungry and we had coupons. It was 1:50 - 10 minutes before Happy Hour - but we were so ready for a big drink, a shake, and a 99 cent onion ring - that we were willing to sacrifice our coupons.

We got in line at the drive thru where a man in a red truck was waiting to place his order. He gave the girl his order and the preceded to sit there and wait. We didn't know what to think - was this man not aware of the drive-thru pick-up window concept? We sat their until 1:59 - at which point my sister drove into one of the ordering stalls. We placed our order (and yay we got the happy hour deal).

We waited and waited and waited -- a couple of times employees with orders on their trays would come up and ask us if it was our order. We saw one girl going from car to car trying to figure out where her tray went. Pretty soon we saw the manager of Sonic - helping with the delivery of food - he didn't have skates on but boy could he run fast. Sonic was packed - there computers were apparently down - and angry caffeine deprived women were getting ready to charge the building. Oh - and the guy in the red truck was still sitting in the same spot. It was like we had entered the Twilight Zone.

Finally at about 215, we see the guy with our order coming our way. This kid had on roller skates and he was hauling so fast - that my sister and I looked at each other and said "man- he's fast". Just as we were looking back at him in our amazement of his skating skills - he biffs it. I mean he went down hard - tray and all. It was like slow motion - he went down and slid right into my sisters van (we checked for dents later). He jumped up as quickly as he could - and we asked him if he was okay. He was mortified - we were mortified - (and trying really hard not to laugh).

Somehow during the melee -- he had managed to hold the tray above his head - and so only the drinks were ruined (the shakes were a little messy too). He handed us our sack of greasy mozzarella sticks and onion rings and headed back in to fix our drinks. As he skated away - my sister noticed his brake mark from his skates on the ground. There was a black streak on the ground about 2 feet long. We started laughing so hard we couldn't stop - and of course we didn't him to see us laughing at him so we really tried to get it under control.

When he came back with our food, we very politely took it and didn't giggle once. He skated away and Jill took a spoonful of her chocolate malt and started to laugh. Apparently they hadn't made up new shakes for us - they just wiped the spilled ice cream off the side - so Jill's chocolate malt had reeses peanut butter blast in it. It was so retro! It reminded me of the old reeses peanut butter cup commercial - hey you got peanut butter in my chocolate!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_qSd70jkrQg
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AGsWqGX6bvA

Oh - and to top it all off - the guy in the red truck had finally moved forward - and was STILL waiting for his order.

My Born Ultimatum...

My latest bout with motion sickness, reared it's ugly head tonight - at the movie theater of all places. DH and I went to see Bourne Ultimatum. We had heard rave reviews - and while we were slow in getting to see it - it really was good. The only problem was the director seemed to have filmed the entire thing with a super 8 handheld movie camera. Talk about jiggle factor. I knew the movie would be high on action. But it seemed even the non-action parts of the show were in action - because the dang camera man was sitting on Matt Damon's shoulder (like an evil twin would).

Ever since I was a little girl, I've had issues with motion sickness. Maybe I was born with it - or perhaps I was just dropped a lot as a baby (insert joke here). I remember being really young at a park and swinging so high on the swings - and getting so sick - that I finally jumped off to save myself (landed pretty hard on some dirt too, if I recall).

You can imagine if park swings did that to me - how Lagoon (aka overpriced carnival) affected my livelihood. I tried to ride on those herky, jerky rides - to no avail. I'll admit it -- I was in denial in those early years. It just didn't seem natural for a kid to hate rides! But, hate them I did. Oh sure, I'd still go on a few - but that was just to save face and to not be judged by the other kids.

Over the years, rides, swings and merry go rounds - became my arch nemesis'. The Space scrambler: struck such fear in me that I've tried to block it from my memory. Tilt-a-whirl - can you say tilt-a-hurl? Colossus - spinning around upside down in circles should be against the law. And let's just say - there was nothing merry about those horses going up and down & spinning in a circle on the Carousel ride.

As I got older, it didn't get any better. In middle school, our playground consisted of a big field, a merry-go-round and a few four square grids. The boys would get on the merry-go-round and see who could stay on the longest without throwing up. Now, knowing of my motion weakness - I steered clear of this activity. Until that fateful day. My girlfriends & I were looking for a place to sit and visit. Oddly enough, the merry-go-round had been abandoned by the crazy 8th grade boys - nary a one in sight. With not much brain power working on our side, we (about 6 of us) congregated on the merry-go-round to sit and chat.

Enter stage left - wild screaming boys, running towards the innocent (naive) girls who had no clue of the dirty deed that was about to occur. Before we could even think about moving, the spinning began. Faster and faster--until I knew it was fight or flight. I chose flight--and jumped from the madly spinning wheel - onto the slippery gravelly blacktop. I was in the nurses office the rest of the day getting gravel dug out of my hands, knees and elbows.

As an adult, it has been much easier for me to avoid rides, swings and merry-go-rounds. Unless I'm tricked. Mission Space at Epcot would be one of those cruel tricks. On our first trip to Disneyworld, one of the first things we did was head to Epcot and hop aboard mission space. The signs said, "May cause motion sickness". "May" was an understatement. There was no abort button on that mission - so I had to use positive self-talk to get me through it, "Go to a happy place" I said over and over in my head. I was miserably sick the rest of the day.

On our next visit to Disneyworld, again I was tricked. My, then 7 year old, daughter convinced me that the Tower of Terror wasn't bad at all. She had gone on it before - and said - "Mom, if I can do it so can you." I bought into that diatribe. And headed home nauseated, dizzy - vowing never to trust the sweet eyes of my daughter again. Even Soarin' - a simulated hang-glider ride over California nauseated me. I ended up closing my eyes over most of the ocean, orange trees and even the Golden Gate Bridge.

Needless to say, I have become the official "stuff holder" (i.e. water bottles, camera, purses, hats, sunglasses etc) at amusement parks. It seems to work well for me - and the bonus is no more lost stuff on the upside down, twirly hurly roller-coasters.

As for the movies? For Matt Damon, I guess, that's just a sacrifice I'm willing to make.

Six Months and Counting...

Update on 13th year shenanigans:

Van: Aamco repaired the oil leak and transmission fluid leak - I've given up on crossing my fingers that this will work and I'm now crossing everything crossable (eyes, fingers, arms, legs etc). If big purple can make it another 6 months - we'll be in the clear.

Computer: Crashed. Burned. Busted. Memo to the World: Do not click on a button that says you have a virus and do you want to download a program to fix it? DH clicked - he thought it was a real deal from microsoft. The only thing real about it was the real damage the dang "trojan" did to our computer (why does using the word "trojan" make me feel so jr. high?) It corrupted a bunch of files. Shut down our control panel. And did a bunch of other stuff that I didn't understand - but it ended up taking DH about 18 hours to correct it (2 eve's + a morning) and a little cash.

Sprinklers: After spending almost $400 on repairs for the sprinklers at the end of July - this morning they have no water pressure. Our lawn has been trying to recover from July's shenanigans - and was still struggling. I can't wait for winter - so our yard will be dead when it's supposed to be dead.

DH: Currently a believer, subscriber and participant in the 13th year.

Quiet Rivers Run Deep...

On Tuesdays, our temples first session begins at 5 am. This morning was my RS temple run - at 440 am (I had to get up by 4 to be ready). We try to get there for that so we can be home in time to get kids ready for school, etc. We are entering our fourth month of doing this early bird thing - and you'd think it would get easier.

Actually, the waking up and getting there isn't that difficult - mostly because I'm on auto-pilot. It's the after-effects of the early rising that really throws me for a loop. Picture blond moment after blond moment linked precariously together.

Case in point: Upon returning home from our temple trip - I noticed the scouts had put out flags throughout our neighborhood. I was curious as to why - and finally decided they must've put them out because it was the primary elections today. We have a guy running for city council in our ward and I wondered if he had put them up to it. Unfortunately, I opened up my mouth and said, "I wonder if Troy bribed the scouts to put the flags out to remind us to vote for him?" Both of the girls I was with starting laughing and reminded me - it's 9/11 - and then continued to laugh.

Case #2: We had lunch bunch today. One of the ladies was telling me how well-spoken my DH was at a neighborhood meeting they had last night. She mentioned that she had never heard him speak more than 5 words before this evening and she was impressed by his knowledge. I thanked her for the compliment. She went on to say, "I guess quiet rivers run deep." "What?" I asked. She repeated her river statement. With a blank look still on my face - she said it again, "You know, quiet rivers run deep." Finally she very frustratedly explained - "Your husband is the quiet river." I said - "Ohhh and he runs deep?" I think she walked away at that point.

Here's the deal: I'm Blond. But on normal days, I am usually awake enough to at least not speak out my blond moments. The trouble is when I am this tired - there is no telling what I may say. Luckily, this tiredness comes only once a month and it is worth it (although maybe I should sequester myself on such days).

I guess it's safe to say that no one will ever mistake me for a quiet river.

Eight Months and Thirteen Years...

The month of August appeared to go off without a cursed, unlucky hitch. I say appeared - because my van has been leaking pink/red stuff for a few weeks. When DH asked me what the pinkish/reddish stuff was on the garage floor - I told him I thought one of the kids had dropped their red popsicle (right in the very spot that I park my van). Those darn kids!

After I slipped and nearly killed myself (and lost 4 fresh pumpkin choc chip cookies in the melee), DH decided to spray out the garage and get rid of the popsicle spot (which was actually pretty slippery for sticky popsicle). A couple of days later, wouldn't you know it - those darn kids had melted another popsicle in the exact same spot. Only now it's looking more like a van issue--and less like a messy kid issue.

I'm no rocket scientist - but something tells me this slippery pinkish/red substance has something to do with my newly installed 24 kt gold lined transmission - since there wasn't a slippery red problem before. Now, technically, I will be getting this problem fixed in September. But I am telling you, if this ends up costing me any sort of money - I'm counting it as bad luck for August. I mean, once you've got a trend going - you really hate to break it. Right?

Are you a Warn(er)?

Are you a warner? By this I mean - if you see a cop parked at the bottom of a hill that you are headed up, do you flash your lights at oncoming traffic to "warn" them?

I do. I also do it if I see a speedtrap on the freeway. I just chalk it up to my good works for the day. I'm a law abiding citizen. I'm not a speeder. If we are in a hurry to get somewhere, nobody wants to let me drive (especially my mom - talk about a speeder). So I guess that's why I don't appreciate the speed traps off the bottom of a hill - I mean who isn't going to be going a little faster than usual when your coming off a hill?

Now, I'm not a purist in my cop warnings. You get me on the freeway with someone who flies recklessly past me - and I have been known to say (wish) "They deserve a ticket." I actually rejoice in others sorrows as I drive past that fast car getting a ticket.

The way I see it--is a cop waiting at the bottom of the hill is just filling a quota for the day. It's a cheap shot--gimme ticket--and I don't think it's fair (unless that person is going recklessly fast - in which case my flashing lights still wouldn't give them time to slow down and they should get their just desserts).

The Book Thief...

For book club this month, we are reading "The Book Thief" by Markus Zusak. When I checked it out at the library - I sighed - because this is one long book. It's almost 600 pages long - and for a girl who enjoys procrastinating the reading of books she may or may not enjoy (i.e. book club books) - I knew I was in trouble. This would not be a book I could cram into an evening or two.

So, I put it on my to-do list - and started it over a week ago. 10 pages here, 10 pages there - I was struggling. For one - it's narrated by death, literally - (there actually have been a couple of our book club books where I felt like saying - this book is soo boring it's like its being narrated by death). My other struggle was it is based in Nazi Germany - not one of my favorite subjects (you know I'm shallow right?)

Just as I was about to inquire about cliff notes (and truly I hadn't really given the book a fighting chance as I was only on about page 50), one of my friends told me it really started to pick up by about page 100. So I continued to plod along. And to my surprise -- by about page 80 I started to get into it. As a matter of fact, I couldn't put it down -- and literally read it in two days -- not counting the first 50 pages of course (memo to self: you can read a 600 page book club book in two days)

By then end of the book, I was pleasantly surprised. What a truly well-written and interesting book. I am better for reading it. While it is sad subject matter, the author sprinkles bits of wisdom and humor--to the point that even "death" was cracking me up (okay, so add to shallow a morbid sense of humor). But seriously, "death's" words are poetic at times. I enjoyed "him".

As a shallow and fluffy reader - here's a book that made me feel a little less shallow and (almost) deep.

A Rose by Any Other Name...

I am terrible at remembering names. Someone can get introduced to me - and a few minutes later I've completely forgotten their name. It's awkward I will admit. Especially when you've met the person 7 times and you still have to pretend you know their name (and of course later eavesdrop to try and hear who they are).

Lately, this has been carrying over to family members. Not that I'm forgetting their names - but just using the wrong name for them. My sister has become my daughter and my daughter my sister, & my son is my nephew - now there's a Dr. Phil episode gone awry.

My latest and greatest name faux pas has actually happened twice in the last week. I have started to call my husband "Bud"(this is usually a term I reserve for my son). The first time it happened was last week on the first day of school. We were all running around like lunatics. I was trying to pack lunches, find paperwork, gather up last minute things -- and get out the door.
My DH was also trying to get out the door and couldn't find his wallet (another story for another day). He was asking everyone if they had seen his wallet. As we were walking out the door, I said, "Did you find it Bud?" He laughed and said, "Did you just call me bud?" I think I blushed (I don't know why I found it so embarrassing - because embarrassing moments with me are a dime a dozen - and there are many that are much worse). I told him I didn't mean to - I claimed I was saying Hun and it just came out wrong. But he didn't believe me.

Then it happened again. Last night, I was trying to get to enrichment night and he was trying to get the kids loaded into the van to go to the ballgame. I needed my purse out of the van. As I hurried past him, DH handed it to me, and I said, "Thanks Bud." He laughed again. I blushed again (what's with the blushing anyway - it's not like I'm being salacious).

He probably thinks I'm doing it on purpose. Which of course I'm not. So, why the sudden weird nickname? I've decided it's due to brain overload. This happens to me every so often when my life is so full of events, sagas and adventures - that things start to spill out of my mouth faster than I can control them. Usually the problem involves me overextending myself and volunteering for everything imaginable. But, apparently it has now transferred over to name calling.

I'm not sure how to solve this silly problem. Do I let the Bud run its course? Should I tell the Bud I mean to do it? What if the Bud starts to suspect there is another Bud in my life - which would then explain the sudden switch to the wrong name? I guess, if worse comes to worse, I'll have to start referring to him as Bud in my blog (rather than DH) - then I can tell him it's just a fancy code name for good-lookin'.

Kidspeak...

Lately my 8 yr old daughter, Savvy has been cracking me up with her kidspeak. Here's a couple of funny moments.

Savvy: (after blowing a bunch of dandelion seeds everywhere) "Mom, I keep making a wish on a dandelion and it never comes true."

Mom: "If that wish involves getting a puppy - think up a new wish."

Savvy Sadly: "Awwww Mom."

********************************************************************************

Savvy: (as we stand in line at the pet store getting ready to purchase her new beta fish) "Mom, I think I'm going to name my fish Marie."

Mom: "Where did you hear that name?"

Savvy: "You know mom - like 'aquamarie' - only I shortened it to Marie."

Mom: "Dearest - it's aquamarine - not aquamarie."
Savvy: "Ummm - I don't think Marine is a very good name for a fish - I'm sticking with Marie."

School Choices...

When we lived in AZ, we had our children in a charter school. At the time, we felt that the charter school was going to offer a better education than the public school in our area (based on a not so stellar year in kindergarten with a first year teacher).

Now, I am not so pro-charter school that I'd never consider a public school. And I know that there are plenty of great teacher's in the public school system who are fantastic -- but based on that one experience -- we made the switch. It turned out to be a great experience for all of my kids - they were challenged, they liked school -- and they were happy.

We moved to Utah three years ago--on the day before school started. Unfortunately, we quickly found out how lousy our public school was when my 5th grader brought home her first spelling list. It looked exactly like my kindergartner's spelling list from the year before. I felt like the entire year was a waste for both my 1st graders and my 5th grader. It was beyond ridiculous.

I helped out in the classrooms weekly and quickly came to the realization - that at this particular school they taught to the lowest denominator. They didn't even try the middle of the road approach. And for my kids who were used to being challenged - it was disappointing.

Needless to say, I started looking hard for an alternative to public schools. By January, I had found 3 charter schools that I was interested in (one being a brand new one) - and immediately put our name on the waiting lists (which were large to say the least).

In the spring, the new school informed me that my children had made it in (they had 1600 students apply for a 600 student school) - we felt lucky. By August, we discovered one drawback to the new charter school. It wasn't finished on time - and it was going to be delayed till September 25th. Talk about one long summer!

At the end of August, we got a phone call and found out our kids had been accepted into another charter school in the area. Six families in my neighborhood have children that attend there and I knew it was a good one. I was in such a quandry. I actually had preferred this school in the first place - since it was established and the programs seemed to really work there. But, as I weighed my pros and cons I decided the only drawback to switching was that the school was only a K-8 -- and the one we were waiting for to be built was supposed to be K-9. That became my deciding factor. It was really important to me that my kids didn't have to switch over to the Jr. high for their 9th grade year.

We ended up having a good experience at the new charter. The kids enjoyed school and seemed to be challenged on a daily basis. We were happy with our decision. Then in January, the school announced they would not be having a 9th grade anymore. There were many excuses as to why this would be impossible - but I have to admit I was a little bugged at the false advertising.

Since my oldest daughter was going to be entering the 7th grade - we had a decision to make. Did we leave her at the charter school and have her switch to jr high for her 9th grade year? Or did we throw her to the wolves of jr high for 7th, 8th and 9th grade? Well, we decided to keep her at the charter - hoping another solution would crop up before she actually reached the 9th grade.

Last week, a solution did crop up. One of my friends whose kids go to the charter we had decided against last year - told me that they were building a jr high and there would be a 9th grade starting next year! I didn't think they'd have any openings. But I called the school anyway. They did have an opening for my 7th grader (not my younger two though). We applied and she's in.

So our problem for 9th grade seems to be solved. The irony in all of this is if we had based our decision on the school and its programs rather than the fact that they had no 9th grade - my kids would already be there and not having to switch to yet another school. Woulda, Coulda, Shoulda, I guess.

Until We Meet AGAIN...

Lately, I have been bombarded by so many meetings that I'm starting to get a little overwhelmed by it. I've decided meetings are overrated. Actually - I shouldn't say overrated - because I would guess that most people rate meetings pretty low on their list of fun things to do. But seriously, why do we think we need to meet for every little thing?

I know the nature of the church is to meet and plan with a purpose. But - sometimes all of this meeting and planning gets a little ridiculous. Take this past week for example - I had my RS presidency meeting Tuesday morning - it went a couple of hours. Tuesday night I had a meeting with the Bishopric, EQP, HP, and RSP about home teaching and visiting teaching. (It was 1 hour and 45 minutes of home teaching and 15 visiting teaching - a waste of time for the RS to be sure). Wednesday night I had a 2 hour enrichment meeting (although that one was my doing - we need to get our crafties planned and quick!) And starting next week I have to start attending monthly missionary meetings to represent the RS. All of these meetings - and I'm not even the president (she has to add a weekly Sunday morning meeting onto all of it). Give me strength!

I understand that meetings are a necessary evil. I've been in presidencies where we didn't meet enough - and the organization suffered for it. But, I do think whoever is calling for the meeting needs to invite only those who are absolutely needed -- and then keep it short and to the point (this coming from a girl who loves to chat-- heehee). This makes sense to me. Why have a whole presidency attend a meeting - when you can have one represent all.

This is probably naughty - but I truly believe if more people conducted their meetings through email - we'd be a lot better off. I do this with enrichment and RS a lot. Maybe I'm being totally impersonal about it - but email is a great way to keep tabs on everyone - get feedback from your committee - and make assignments - without having to call or meet.

So what's the answer to the whole meeting problem? I bet we could figure out the solution if someone would just call for a meeting.

An Overdue Issue...

My daughter is on a swim team which I pay a monthly fee for. We joined in the spring and immediately I realized the payment was going to be an issue for me - not because I can't afford it - but because they won't do an automatic withdrawal out of my bank account. How annoying is that? I have to go in each month and pay - and before you ask - yes, I even requested prepayment of a few months at a time - they said no.

So why is this such an problem for me? I must confess I have overdue issues. What can I say, I am a forgetful - sometimes irresponsible girl - in a lot of aspects of my life. I have had some late fees at the library that were real doozy's. To make myself feel better, I decided to tell myself that my overdue fines are just an annual membership fee I have to pay. You would think with all the "overdue" issues I have - that I would avoid libraries, dvd rentals and the like. But I don't. I guess I always have this lingering goal in the back of my head that I will return things on time.

Now with swim team, I did try to make a valiant effort to pay on time. For the most part I've been only a week late (which is good for me). Then summer arrived. In mid-June they switched to an outdoor pool for part of June, July and August. It's actually closer to my house - so I was initially happy with the new venue.

Then I tried to pay for swim team. It was the middle of July which meant I was already two weeks late with payment (my goal of not being overdue with things kind of took a back seat when I decided to invite Noah's Ark to float in my basement). Anyway, I went to the indoor pool to pay - and the girl told me I had to pay the outdoor pool. I was a little frustrated - and of course I forgot about it -- and a week went by.

Then, I went to the outdoor pool to pay and the girl told me I had to pay at the indoor pool (I made her call to verify- and yes indeed I was to pay at the indoor pool). Are you kidding me? Did they not realized how challenged I was with paying on time in the first place.

Two weeks passed - and again I tried to pay the indoor pool. Once again, the indoor pool told me I had to pay at the outdoor pool. Does the word sabotage mean anything to you? I imagined them secretly laughing at the crazy lady who keeps driving 15 miles between pools trying to pay for her daughter's imaginary swim team.

Finally, yesterday--on August 20th, now over a month and a half overdue with my payment - I went to the outdoor pool to pay. I had outlined my plan of attack. Plan A: Refuse to leave until they accepted my money. Plan B: Threaten to drink all the diet coke at their concession stand (which is secretly a goal of mine anyway). Plan C: Quit the stinkin' swim team that was too good for my money.

Fortunately, I didn't have to resort to any of that. The girl happily accepted my Visa. Although she did feel it necessary to point out - that "Hmmm, you are overdue a month and a half on your payments." It was smile or scream. I chose to smile - it was long overdue.

For Your Eyes Only

I go running (almost) every morning with a girl in my neighborhood. This morning, her husband (our Elder's Quorum Pres) came with us. He's a pretty hilarious guy - the J. Golden Kimball of our ward. He is coaching his son's "Ute" little league football team this year - so at the end of our run he suggested we run the "Indian drill" that he makes his 12 year old boys do (I kept calling it the Indian fire drill - we are so not politically correct).

In the Indian drill, you jog in a line and the person in the back sprints to the front and on and on and on (I'm not sure what this has to do with Indians - and I'm sure it has a more PC technical name then the one we were using - but it did make me laugh).

We ran this for about 2 blocks. I have to imagine we were quite the sight. Picture it: the Indian fire drill, being ran on a busy street with a chubby blond girl (me), chubby blond guy, and a skinny (compared to the chubbies) girl. When we were finished - I told them if we ever do that again - it needs to be on a dark, dead end street with no traffic - this was definitely a for your eyes only moment.

13th Year Update...

August Eleventh and all is well. Only 20 more luck-filled days and this year's curse - will be broken. Wishful thinking? Wish not. Want not.

The Thirteenth Year...

This is my 13th year of marriage and I have confession to make -- I am a little superstitious. Not the whole - avoid black cats and walking under ladders things - although I must admit I. do. not. like. cats. period. And I can't think of a time where I've actually walked under a ladder - so maybe I'm a little more superstitious than I thought. But, truthfully, I really am only superstitious about a few things - May 17, a purple flowered shirt, - and my 13th year of marriage.

As our 13th anniversary in March approached - I joked with my husband - that if we could survive this 13th year of marriage we could make it through eternity just fine. Two days later, we were doing a service project and cleaning our church. Aussie (8), got his finger slammed in a big heavy wood door and had to be taken to the emergency room - where we spent 6 hours. He had a broken finger and had to have his nail removed so they could do stitches. Very painful. Very ugly. Very 13th year.

One week later, DH was backing out of the garage and knocked his passenger side mirror off (luckily the glass didn't break - or this one year of bad luck could've added on another 7). I took one look at the mirror he held in his hand and said, "13th year". (He does not agree nor support my superstition - as a matter of fact he thinks you should never blame stupidity on luck - I say look at all my supporting evidence and then decide).

The month of April Aussie had a rash for the entire month - he missed tons of school. I thought it was 5th's disease - but the pediatrician didn't think so. So he was treated with steroids, antibiotics and expensive prescription allergy medicine = nothing got rid of it. After 3 weeks of numerous trips to the pediatrician and pharmacy (and lots of co-pays), I finally took Aussie to the dermatologist. He took one look at the rash and said - that's 5th disease - not contagious at this stage, not treatable - and he can go to school just fine. I thought two things - #1 webmd.com is a heckuva lot cheaper than copays and needless prescriptions and #2 "13th year."

In May, I was asked to help out with a craft night for my church. I was in charge of cutting out 2x4 blocks which could say either Family or Summer. I had to cut and sand 120 blocks. On block #119 my power sander slipped a gear and broke (yes-I had to hand sand that last blasted block). It's not a super-expensive machine - but it's not one that I will replace unless I start crafting on a more regular basis. I'm hoping it can be fixed - but you know all I keep thinking is "13th year."

In June, it really started to get kind of spooky. Of course, if you've read my blog you have heard about "Flood 2007". Naturally, on the night of the flood, only one thought came to my mind and that was "The 13th year". (which by the way - renovation flood update - all we have left to fix the flood is to get the carpets cleaned - we are hoping this happens soon - but the jokers have yet to call us - and we've been awaiting their call for 1 1/2 weeks - just chalk it up to the 13th year).

Fast forward to Thursday, July 26. We had enrichment night that evening, and it was a backyard event at our Bishop's home. That morning, at 9 am we met at the church to load up tables and chairs and haul them to the Bishop's backyard. On my way home from setting up, I drove past the church and tried to accelerate past 30 mph. The van revved like I was in neutral. I drove up another street to see if it was a fluke. Nope - still revved. I had to stop at a stop sign - and when I pushed on the gas to go - you guessed it - it revved again. I had to turn my van off and back on again to get it to click in gear. Automatically "13th year" popped into my head and I assumed the worst - the transmission was going out.

I talked to my bro-in-law, husband and dad - who all agreed it sounded like the transmission was going bad. Guess who else agreed? The Aamco mechanic - to the tune of $2,400. Gulp. Since my van is 9 years old - it was truly bound to happen. But couldn't it have waited until my 14th year or 15th year of marriage. All I can say, is this 13th year is getting might expensive - and we still have 8 months left! (Ironically, guess who is hopping on the 13th year bandwagon - none other than my DH. When I told him of the problems with the van - he said - "Nic you may be right about this 13th year).

Just call me Tevye

So I've blogged about my less than stellar book group. (We are in our 3rd month now - and are reading an LDS book - so at least I'll feel like I'm enriching my life - it's called Peacegiver by the way.) Needless to say, my love for the book group has not been great. But, somehow my oldest daughter, Jay decided she wanted to start one up anyway. Her exact words were - "Mom - I want to start up a book group like yours - only we won't read boring books." Truer words have never been spoken.

Last night was Jay's first book group. She decided on "The Secret Language of Girls". She also planned on having rocky road ice cream as dessert - because the main character in the book loves that kind of ice cream. Since she had never been to a book group she decided she'd better prepare a list of 15 questions to ask (I helped her narrow it down to 10).

At last it was time for Jay's Book Chat. 4 of the 8 girls showed (I guess we should've done reminder calls - but still with Jay that made 5 and it was okay. It was so cute - she started the discussion and asked each of the girls her questions - like "what was your favorite part", "which character do you think you are most like", "if you could rewrite the ending what would you say". She conducted that meeting like she had been doing it all her life. I was amazed at how much older than 12 she seemed. Don't get me wrong - she usually acts her age - but for some reason last night she just seemed old to me.

So, as I listened to my 12 year old act like a 16 year old - I started feel a little Fiddler on the Roofish - I thought "Is this the little girl I carried? Is this the little boy at play. I don't remember getting older - when did they." I was feeling the whole "Sunrise, Sunset" thing all over the place.

I continued to watch her interact with the girls the entire night - and I felt like somehow I had blinked - and she had grown up. I was impressed at how mature she was and that she could handle herself with her friends. I was pleased how she made sure everyone felt included. I was happy that her friends seemed to get such a kick at how wacky and silly she is (because believe me - she is completely uninhibited). But there was still this sense of sadness in me that I couldn't figure out. I guess sadness that we can never go back to her childhood days mixed with a little bit of regret that maybe I wasn't a fun enough/good enough mom.

All in all it seemed like a good time was had by all (even the mom having a pity party inside her head had fun). Jay had a blast, the girls were happy and excited for their next meeting/book (which by the way is "The True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle"). And I guess I realized that even though my little girl is growing up and maturing - (and this is about to go from a little cheesy to extra cheese please) - she will always be my daughter no matter her age.

I Come By It Honestly...

If you know me, then you know of my embarrassing story on being "half-asked". But bear with me anyway - because this leads to an equally embarrassing story - involving my mom. My dad always used the term half-a**ed when I was growing up - and for much of my life (we're talking like till I was 29) - I thought the word he was saying was half-asked. Leave it to my naive brain to come up with that. Although technically, they both mean the same thing - so I guess I shouldn't feel too bad about it.

So until I was almost 30 I used the term in many settings - at church meetings, to describe certain people, and sometimes even to my husband. Who, thank goodness, one day called me on it. He mentioned to me he was surprised that while I didn't usually swear - I sure used that particular cuss word on a regular basis.
"Half-asked isn't a swear word," I said.
"Yes it is," he said.
This argument went on for a while until finally DH said, "Nicole, where did you first hear the word?" I told him from my dad. DH just smiled - my dad is known for his swearing. He said, call your dad and ask him.

So, like a dummy I did. I asked him if half-asked was really half-a**ed - and he had the nerve to laugh. "What do you think?" my dad asked. Oh man did I feel like an idiot. Immediately, all of the times I had used that word came flooding back to me. I knew I had used it in church meetings I was presiding over (which was probably why I was only in that calling for 6 months hehe). Luckily, I learned the meaning of the word before I was called as primary president. Can you imagine those poor kids? Mom, Sister H said if we are half-a**ed about things in life, we won't be able to make it back to heaven.

Needless to say, I was embarrassed - and it really took a while for me to not use that term. Imagine my surprise when I caught my mom in one of my word traps. I thought I was the only fool to do such a thing - but it turns out I come by it honestly.

I have a cousin who has a newborn baby in the hospital with heart issues. A couple of days before she had him - she ended up in the hospital with kidney stones. They gave her pain pills and she seemed to be fine. She had the baby and for the last month as sat by his bedside with no troubles from the stones. Until last week. She had another kidney stone attack - and I guess it was bad. She was in a lot of pain - but she has seemed to pass it and is doing better now.

Jen - has a blog where she posts stuff about the baby - and other people post encouraging comments to her and her husband. I frequent this site - and during her time of the kidney stone attack most people focused on prayer and how tough they were and how this was taking them through the refiner's fire etc. There are a lot of people who read the blog - and many who post.

In between my aunt's post of "Prayer Changes Everything" and my other aunt's post "I Believe in Prayer" is my mom's post. In it, she says some nice, inspirational stuff. But the main thing that stuck out to me was this - "Wow! May I say, you do have STONES! You know, the good kind" Her meaning was that Jen was tough, she could handle anything, she was amazing. It was pretty funny - and I figured she had no idea what it really meant.

A few hours later I get a phone call from my DH at work. He was laughing so hard he ccould hardly contain himself. I asked him what is so funny - and he said, "Did you see your mom's post". I told him yes - and he continued to laugh. He could hardly speak. He said, you expect a comment like that from one of your brother's, or Jen's brother - not your mom. He thought it was even more hilarious when I told him I didn't think she knew what it meant.

At first I wasn't going to say anything to her - I knew she'd be mortified. Besides, my cousin has a pretty good sense of humor - and I knew she wouldn't be offended. But, then I remembered my struggles with "half-asked" and decided I'd better pass on the knowledge. My dad answered the phone - and I asked him if he knew what "you've got stones" meant. Of course, he used the more vulgar term to define it - but confirmed that yes he knew what that meant. I told him about mom's post - and he started laughing. He told her what it meant - and she decided that we had our minds in the gutter.

Finally, she realized that we were telling the truth and she indeed was mortified. But, at least now she knows the truth behind the stones - and I know that I come by my naivety of vulgar slang honestly.

Top Ten Things I learned in Flooding My House...

10. 25 minutes of water is A LOT of water (enough to cause damage to 2 bathrooms, a closet, 2 bedrooms and 2 family rooms)
9. Dust bunnies under the bed float (truly embarrassing when you're next door neighbor is helping with the clean-up).
8. You can't hide a flood this size from your husband (& locking the bedroom door with you and your friend inside giggling - only makes him madder - although at the time it felt like a Lucy/Ethel moment).
7. Keep your shop vac clean & free of sawdust for possible wet vac use (because 3 wet queen size quilts and a linen closet full of wet towels puts you behind on wash day for at least a month)
6. Have hangover remedies ready for the Flood Damage guys coming to your house at 130 am on a Friday night (who said drunks weren't efficient).
5. Those dehumidifying blowers are hot! (our house heated up to 85 degrees the weekend of the flood - talk about a punishment straight from the devil).
4. When dry wall guys say it will only take a couple of days to fix your ceiling and walls - they really mean a week (at least I'm hoping it's only a week - the painter should be here today to finish up).
3. Black beauty isn't that comfortable when you have to sleep on it for 2 weeks.
2. Flood repair is the business to be in. People are at your mercy, you make good money & quite honestly, it's fun taking a saw to walls and ceilings - knowing it's not your fault and you don't have to fix it.
1. Flooded bedrom + new carpet and cute painted walls = which room should I flood next summer?

Paint, Kids and a Husband Oh My!

When the Flood of 07' happened - I started dropping hints that we should paint our bedroom. It had been a reoccuring topic in our home since we moved in 2 years ago. I wanted our room painted, but DH thought it would be a huge hassle for a few reasons: too much furniture to contend with, a high ceiling, the wall separating our bedroom from our master bathroom doesn't go all the way up (which means painting the bathroom too), and he didn't like the color I wanted to go with - dirty yellow.

Naturally, I didn't want to be too pushy - since the reason our room was empty was because of me. But, I did try to point out that "gee, since our room is empty, it sure would be easy to paint the room." I also pointed out that since we were getting new carpet we wouldn't even have to put down drop cloths. I may have even insinuated that I'd be willing to make a color change (which I really wasn't planning on doing - I just figured that I'd be by myself picking the paint out and when I came home with dirty yellow - we'd both be surprised hehe)

On the 4th of July, we weren't feeling too festive. My sister who was supposed to be in town had been delayed - so all of our family party plans were cancelled. Plus, it was supposed to be a really hot day - and the parade in Provo is such a rat-race - neither one of us felt like camping out to get a spot. We had tentatively planned on going up to Park City and hanging out up there for the festivities. But, it was also going to be a hot one up there - and we didn't get up and going early enough to make it worth it.

We had to appease the kids, who were feeling sorry for themselves since their parents were the Scrooges of the 4th. So we decided to go to see "Ratatouille". We planned to hit the earliest show possible (1130 am) to beat the crowds - since the movie had only been out a week. But when we got there, half of the state of Utah had the same idea and the soonest we could get in to the movie was for the 3 pm showing.

DH bought the tickets for 3 pm and we headed home. A few miles down the road we passed a Lowe's (which is about 3 miles away from a Home Depot). And DH said, "Do you like buying paint at Lowe's or Home Depot?" I'm a Home Depot girl I said. The next thing I knew he was pulling into Home Depot and said let's get some paint for the bedroom and we'll do it today. "With the kids?" I asked. "Yes" he said. "And with you?" I asked - actually I just thought that in my head. But - boy did I want to run them home quick and then come back ALONE.

All five of us headed into the store to the paint department. I found my favorite dirty yellow colors. DH was looking at some sage green colors. I realized this color decision was going to make or break the plan to paint. DH did have some valid points - one being that as big of a pain as the room was going to be to paint - did we really want to paint it dirty yellow only to get sick of it in a year or two (I think he was already sick of looking at it hehe). He also pointed out how much more neutral a sage green would be. And his final point was if we ever sold the house who in their right mind would want a dirty yellow room. I began to list off at least 4 girls I know who love dirty yellow. He finally suggested that we paint my craft room dirty yellow. I didn't know whether to be insulted or happy that at least one room in my house could be the color of my dreams--but it was the only room in the house that DH doesn't set foot in.

It wasn't that I didn't like the sagey green - and since it's his room too - I began looking in the green color families trying to find the perfect shade of green. I had found about 4 colors I was debating between when DH said - pick one and let's go. Since I had only been thinking about the colors for about 15 minutes, I tried to explain that this was a big decision. I needed to figure out which shade of green would go best with my quilt in my room, match the furniture best, and match the carpet best - which hadn't even been installed so it was really hard to picture it. He asked me if I planned on fasting and praying about it- because he was losing the momentum to paint.

The kids were also losing their momentum - to live. The twins were being maniacs - playing on the paint computer, running down the aisle like heathens and saying mom let's go! J was begging for me to buy a crazy, funky pink color to do in her room. I realized I needed to kick it in gear and make a decision. So, I asked DH for a few more minutes and he took the kids to the paint brush section.

I studied the colors - did I want the sage green, the mintier sage green, the oliveier sage green or the yellowier sage green. It was hard to decide. Finally - I took the 2 colors I liked best to DH and made him decide (of course he didn't pick the one I was leaning towards - but I went with his choice anyway). Then I couldn't watch as they mixed the paint color - I was so worried I wasn't going to like it.

Once we got it up on the walls - it looked great. Of course, I can see all the spots we didn't do perfectly. But I'm hoping once the furniture is moved back in and the pictures and such are hung - I won't notice it anymore.

I know this whole flood has been the hugest pain in the fanny for many people involved - my DH, my kids, ME, my sister and her fam, my bookgroup(they need a hostess for next month) -- and anyone else who I have had to put off until the flood repair is finished. But I have to say, despite the pain - my bedroom is looking better than ever, my new carpet is gorgeous and soft, DH has the painting bug and wants to paint other rooms in the house, my craft room is going to get the dirty yellow color it deserves -- and it never would've happened if I hadn't left the bathtub running unattended for 25 minutes while I visited with my girlfriend on the porch (will I ever look back on that statement and laugh?).
PS The picture makes it look a little lighter than it is. And notice my little reading corner in the picture above? I am so excited for that.

When will it ever end?

I flooded my house almost 3 weeks ago and I am beginning to think the remodeling will never end! I can't complain to my DH because he only reminds me why we are remodeling in the first place - which is totally because of me (curses).

But honestly - I thought we'd be all cleaned up and ready to go by week 3. I even told my sister as much - she is supposed to be staying with us and I figured by week 3 we'd be done. I guess I didn't account for the week of the 4th having absolutely no one available for the entire week. I think we should all go into the flood repair business because you get to take an entire week off for a one day holiday.

I suppose the week isn't over yet. So there is still a chance we could be finished - but I highly doubt it. I don't know how much we are paying for the drywall guy - but he said it would take him 3 days to patch up the mess. Yesterday morning he was here for about 2 hours - which considering the mess I thought he was pretty quick. This morning - only 30 minutes. I realize things need to dry - but good grief - I'm willing to blow dry the section he fixed to get it to dry faster and speed these steps up.

We also still have the matter of getting the carpet pads replaced in all of the rooms we had blowers on - and getting the carpet stretched and tacked down - and then cleaned. I'm thinking that's got to take at least 2 days.

If there can be anything good that comes out of this - DH was finally inspired to paint our bedroom. I had wanted to do it a long time ago - but we had way to much furniture in there to make it feasible. So last Wednesday we painted my room "Rejuvenated" which is just a fancy way of saying sage green.

Also - another bonus is yesterday my lovely new carpet was installed in my bedroom and closet. It is soo much softer - and a little darker. So now my bedroom furniture stands out a little more and it made my walls pop.

Yesterday, after the carpet had been installed and we had moved our furniture back into the bedroom. DH said - "I can't believe I'm about to say this - but I'm glad you flooded our house." It's true - I never thought I'd hear those words come out of his mouth. But I have to admit our room does look a lot better. What shall I flood next? hehe

It's a Proud Moment...

Carpet Replacement $1500, flood fans $4,000, ceiling fixed and paint--not sure, carpet pad installed and re tacked down, who knows -- having insurance that will pay for almost all of it-priceless.

It's a proud moment when you realize how good you are at doing things. Take flooding my home for instance - I have come to the knowledge that I am really, really good at it. The insurance adjuster came on Wednesday to tell us how much they'd give us for flood damage caused by me. For the house itself - he estimated $5000 worth of damage. That doesn't include what we will end up owing the flood company - which he figures will be around $4000. For a grand total of almost $10,000. Luckily, insurance will cover all but $1000. Not bad for a days work.

Over the past 13 years of my marriage, (that is so another post - I'll admit I think 13 is a very unlucky number - and DH does not agree with my feelings of this year being a jinx)--anyway - over the past 13 years, I haven't had so much as a traffic ticket. DH on the other hand has had lots of traffic tickets (okay - maybe not lots - but still they have cost us money).

Anyway - I've tried unsuccessfully to explain to DH that this one major money costing mistake is a once in a lifetime thing. I've told him that while he has chosen to nickel and dime us over a lifetime with his tickets - I have taken a different approach. Spend it all in one shot and then be good and careful the rest of my life. I do recognize that this will require quite a bit of watchfulness on my part - but I am willing to fulfill my end of the deal.

Hotel H Closes for Renovations

Attention Footloose and Fancy Free Visitors that I so enjoy hosting at my home: Hotel H is currently under major renovations. These renovations may be lengthy - so please plan on booking your stay at another relatives until further notice.

A Series of Unfortunate Events...Part 1

Disclaimer: If you are a person who likes to read posts with happy endings--avoid this one at all costs.

Friday night at about 935 pm, I decided to take a nice, relaxing bubblebath. I turned on the water, dumped in the cucumber melon bubbles -- and the doorbell rang. It was my good friend Rosemary wanting to borrow "New Moon" for her trip to LA. I grabbed it for her - and then proceeded to visit with her on the porch - completely forgetting about my running water. At 955 - dear daughter S comes out to the porch - "Mom, why is there a flood in your bedroom?"

AHHHHHHHHHH! I screamed - Rosemary followed. My room all the way under my bed was flooded. My walk-in closet - flooded. There was at least 2 inches of water on my bathroom tile floor. WE immediately started sopping it up with every towel I've ever known - even A and S's baptism towels (sorry mom). Every time a towel would get full of water - I'd throw it into the tub. Pretty soon the tub was full of wet towels - and no dry towels were left. Rosemary said - get blankets - so I got into my blanket cupboard and used 3 quilts -to continue the soaking up process.

At this point, R headed home to grab her shop-vac. Enter DH. None too happy - but with a couple of headshakes and a what happened - he was off to the store to snag a carpet cleaner. (I must admit I was worried he was going to get really mad at me -well deserved of course - but the silence was deafening. I am still asking him just to yell at me and put me out of my misery).

R came back and began to suck up water out of my carpet in the bedroom. I was still working on getting the flood under control in my bathroom. It was a struggle. By the time she had filled the shopvac - we were both covered in water. I don't know about R but I wanted to cry. But since it was either laugh or cry - we decided to laugh and make the best of it.

I got the bathroom tile under control - and since R was leaving for her trip at 9 the next morning - I sent her on her way. I continued to fill the shopvac with more and more water. I couldn't believe how much water there was.

DH arrived home shortly after - and started sucking water up with the carpet cleaner. He filled the tank and dumped it twice. Now it was like midnight - and I told him to let me take over and he could have a break (after all it was my fault). He headed downstairs and I continued to work away on the carpet. 2 seconds later my DH came running back up the stairs. "Stop what you're doing - find me the phonebook - there's a pond downstairs!"
to be continued....