Handcart Heartburn

it's 4:30 A.M. and my husband is shaking my shoulder, "we've got to go. come on."
"Are you kidding me? Oh, yeah. okay. Get the chairs. I'll be right up."
We decide not to wake up Wade since we think he needs his rest and we know he'll be grumpy by the time the fireworks are over tonight. Don't tell anyone, but the best spot for the parade is right in front of Zion's bank so we take our chairs up and sit by the wall of the bank and read our books until 7:00 A.M. when we are allowed to put our chairs out to the edge of the street to save our places for the parade at 6:00 P.M. Sound crazy? well, by 5:30 or 6:00 A.M. there aren't many places left. I mean, you can always come later and sit in the back, but then your kids have to climb over everyone to get the candy and you can't reach them and they could get killed by a fire engine or something, right?
Cherie was in charge of the committee that built the float for our stake. This is the first time i was ever aware that she hates parades. How long have we been friends? I didn't even know it was possible to hate parades. What's to hate? the heat? the crowds? the children, tripping over each other to get candy and crying when they don't get a piece? the traffic? the noise? Karlee crying when the clowns come within half a block of her? The "give a kid a flag" float from which they force a paper or plastic miniature of the symbol of our nation into the hand of every toddler so that there is something to sweep from the parade route when it's all over?
What about the stuff to love? Landon, dancing to the music and waving his flag and cheering whenever he sees a car. Karlee, sharing the candy she catches with her little brother. Me, using Grant's pocket knife to extract Megan's orthodontic bracket from the wire so the tooth that is stuck to the taffy can come out of her mouth. Wade, in the parade, saving candy until he sees us and then dumping his bag out in his sister's outstretched hands. Seeing the float for 30 seconds that took your friends 30 days to build. Bagpipes. Michael, grimacing that we are only on the 89th out of 110 entries (and we were worried about Wade being grumpy).
But i realize, sitting at the parade, that it isn't just the parade I enjoy. It's the being with family and friends. The celebrating our nation and our state and our heritage. Sharing that with our children. Right after the fireworks start, with Landon huddled in my arms against the gunfire and cannonshot, i'm wondering if all the effort is worth it, i hear a tiny voice behind me say, "i like the colorful ones. they make me happy." Yeah. That's it. I like this. It makes me happy.

We have the best fireworks ever. it's kind of a smallish event, so you're sitting right under it and the pyros are so proud of their handiwork. Whenever there is a really cool set, the crowd whistles and cheers and when there is a piddly one, everyone laughs and says "ooooh!" Really, though, they are artists and at the end, they come out carrying little flare thingies and take a big bow and everyone gives them a standing ovation. Last night there was even a big explosion right after they bowed. Fun!

The funny thing is, by the time the fireworks were over, he was all about fireworks. Ask him next time you see him. Sound effects and actions and everything.



The BEST float in the whole parade!


CARS!!

Homemade Bread? Are you Kidding?

Well, I've been asked to take a few minutes to share my thoughts and experience with making homemade bread at our Home Family and Personal Enrichment class tomorrow night. So i need to get my thoughts in order and just in case i can't say everything i want to say in a "few minutes" i'll write it here so that everyone can read what i meant to say.

My mom made homemade rolls every Sunday that i can remember. She ground the wheat flour and mixed it half and half with store-bought white flour (wow, i sound like Laura Ingalls... my mom used the fancy store-bought sugar, too). I remember her Bosch bread mixer, but I also remember her kneading the bread by hand, after removing her wedding rings and setting them on the windowsill.

She taught all my older brothers and sisters to do it, too. so i had this vague impression that i would just be able to up and make a loaf of bread. Apparently, though, being the youngest of my mom's first family, i may not have had quite as many opportunities for growth as did my siblings. Sure, i knew how to make macaroni and cheese and (unlike some younger sisters of mine) i knew that you could cook a hot dog without a microwave oven and that cakes could be baked from scratch ("what's scratch?"). But i still have to call Mom(or Dad) sometimes for directions on a pot roast and few other "basics."

I've gone through nostalgic times where i yearn for the simplicity (?) of the olden days. I like the idea of hand-quilted blankets and hand-built butter churns and spinning wheels, so after being married for a couple of years (the 2nd time), i asked my mom if she would show me how to make bread... without the Bosch. Wow. What a... lot of work. Kinda therapeutic, though, all that punching. Unfortunately, it was still several years before all the stars aligned and i actually made bread on my own. I kept telling myself to start small, but with bread, there is no small.

Armed with knowledge, i then had to convince my husband that we needed a 300 some odd dollar bread mixer (none of that hand-kneaded stuff for this far-from-first-born child). Then i had to put up with interrogation concerning my intent for the next 3 years while i figured out what it was i really wanted out of life and my bread mixer. Then i needed pans and cotton towels and courage and willpower... and yeast. I had most of the other ingredients, except meanwhile, i had begun talking with Kaylyn, who is... well, let's just say she's conscious of issues relating to the health of her family. Kaylyn uses a variety of different grains in her bread for various nutritional (and psychological?) benefits. So of course, then i couldn't make my own bread until i had a "wheat" grinder. And Spelt and Millet and Rye and Pearled Barley and White Wheat and buckets to store it in and a new basement to store the buckets. Whew! I'm almost kidding about the new basement. I actually started MAKING BREAD about a year before we started construction on the addition to our home.
To get psyched up, i watched Darlene make bread a couple of times (isn't everything easier after you watch Rachael Ray do it?) and at family gatherings, i would pelt Darlene and Kaylyn with questions about the how when where why what who of bread making. It was a big relief to everyone when i actually MADE BREAD.

While we finished the addition to our home this last Summer, Fall, Thanksgiving and almost Christmas, I temporarily suspended the weekly bread-making. I asked Mike just the other day, if i died, is there anything you would miss about me? Can you believe he said "Your Bread." I may as well already be dead then. Except i guess there is some hope of bread in the future. hmmm... i wonder if (considering the pull his position gives him at church and all) he had anything to do with this "Take a Few Minutes" thing.

Too Old

So i guess Landon is too old to come everywhere with me. Peeking in the shower to say hello, he giggled, pointed and said, "ew!"

i miss you

Dear Wade,
What I forgot to tell you earlier when I said you could leave if you thought home was such a bad place and I was such a “sucky” mom was that I will miss you and our family won’t be complete without you and we are having taco salad for dinner and you are welcome to come home whenever you want to.
I love you.
Mom

What are you scared of?

Cherie asked me the other day if i was scared of the future. I said that i was and she asked, "Why? What's the worst that can happen?" Knowing my personal beliefs, she knows i'm not afraid of death. I'm not. I'm afraid of the part before death. Cold. Hungry. Scared. Hurt. Watching others hurt. Discomfort. That's what it comes to: i'm afraid of not being comfortable.

I spent the day at Yvonne's house Monday, finishing up our latest illustration project and i froze! I asked Chris if he had fallen prey to that whole "turn your thermostat down one degree and you can save $50 a year" crapola. It felt like he'd been turning it down one degree a year since they've been married. Seriously, though, he said they just keep it cool because he is miserable if it is too hot. And I was a little uncomfortable. But i also realized that part of what made me so uncomfortable was the fact that when I heard about the energy savings, i thought to myself, "so it only costs $50 a year to be a little warmer?" and i turned my thermostat up a degree. I have acclimated myself to being 6 degrees warmer than I was that day.

That got me thinking. If i'm so afraid of being out of my comfort zone, maybe what i need to do is get myself used to a little less cozy lifestyle. Maybe i need to be a little cold and a little hungry and a little sore and a little scared. Just possibly i will be a better, stronger person if i turn my thermostat down a degree (or two). I might be better off if i exercise more. And eat a little less. If i stopped procrastinating the organizational tasks and awkward phone calling i'm supposed to do every day, i might even benefit in other ways.

So i'm doing that. Slowly. But i've also done some things that have made my lifestyle a lot cozier and more beautiful and fun. And i'm okay with that. When we decided to add on to this cute little house last Spring, we knew that it meant that we would probably be here for a while (God willing), so we decided to make it a little cuter and more functional while we were at it. We added a family room and a garage and we dug a basement under the family room to use as storage. Well, that meant the storage would be joining the house through our bedroom, so to me, that only meant one thing: WALK-IN CLOSET!!! We have a kind of funny shaped bedroom. it's long and skinny, but the closet on the end was really smallish. I'm to blame, but when we finished the basement the first time, i couldn't see any way around it. I should have covered up one of the ridiculously teeny totally useless windows. Okay, i'm sure if my life depended on it, i could get out of it, but maybe not if i was pregnant, and no way could a fully-dressed fireman get in or out. Our closet was built by Michael and Grant and Roland and Paul Crowther, and painted by me (thank you, thank you) but the shelves are from IKEA. Brilliant. I even put some of it together. William and Conor and Grant and Michael and Darlene helped, but i couldn't believe how easy it went together. Above is the view from the entrance. This is "my" wall of closets(closed and open).

To the left and below is Michael's wall. He thinks this is unfair somehow.

Don't feel too sorry for him, though.

He has two fancy drawers to organize his ties and he has another whole closet on the other side (not as deep, but still, he could have 20 pairs of shoes and a trunk full of sweaters if he wanted to. It's got tools stored in it right now. hmmm.)

This is (not to brag) the IKEA jewelry insert that holds just some of my Tallulahs wealth. Tawnie asked me when she saw my list of favorites, "What's a Tallulahs package?" I'm going to answer that question, Tawnie, I promise. Soon. This is just a sneak peek.

We have one of those fancy (read: expensive) keypad locks on the door from our closet to the storage room, but believe me, even though that means i have to go get the new bag of flour or the can of olives, it's worth it. Plus, Santa has a place to store his stuff. I had a friend in Jr. High whose dad used to lock the food storage and i thought that was so wrong. I couldn't believe he didn't trust his kids. I get it now. He trusted them implicitly. And he knew that next time he wanted to make cookies, the chocolate chips wouldn't be there. And in the future, I may be a little uncomfortable, but by golly, i'm going to have my earrings and some chocolate chips!

Crayola, the Religion

Since becoming a pirate, i've realized how evil crayons are. They ruined my life when i was 9 because someone put a green one in the pocket of their pants and it ended up in the dryer with my yellow gingham dress. The "dust" from crayons is waxy (a hazard to books and clothing) and have you tried getting it off the wall? I know, Magic Eraser. But still, i have usually preferred a set of washable markers for my kids to make trouble with.

Well, Wade spied a renegade box of 64 that i had hidden on the top shelf of the library. He isn't the first to have noticed it, just the first lost boy tall enough and nervy enough to get it down without asking. So after the lecture on how sacred the "Box of 64 crayons with a sharpener" was, i resigned a ream of paper and myself to however long it would take to decimate that many crayons.

I'm surprised. Maybe my kids are old enough to understand the doctrine of this ancient sect. Maybe they are more civilized than i've given them credit for. It's been 3 days and only 2 crayons have been broken (they've been taped) and only one is lost. This is no thanks to Landon, who has ripped the flip-top lid off twice (taped and re-taped) Why. Won't. This. Darn. Lid. Come. Off!? and drawn in one school library book (grrr). I'm pretty sure he's also responsible for the 3 or 4 tips broken off in the sharpener.

These last 3 days have opened a page in the book of my childhood. I had forgotten how good it feels to draw a rainbow. And the good feeling it is to see all the crayons lined up in the box after having them scattered all over the table and floor. My life was defined by those 64 colors. There was a time, I'm sure that i could have named them all and shown you which was which. Actually, i was pretty surprised this morning when i tried to list them and exhausted myself at 43. I can't think of any more. The pack of 64 didn't include the 8 from the fluorescent pack did it(Hot-Pink and Ultra-Violet~remember those)?

Stop reading right now if you want to test your own color-name memory. I won't name all 43, just a few. First, you have the rainbow, red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, then you have the combos: green-yellow and yellow-green. Weren't those two mixed up? I would've named them the opposite way. then you have black and white and gray and the browns: burnt umber, raw umber, raw sienna and my fave, burnt sienna. Whatever umber and sienna were, i didn't care, just the thought of raw color and how you could burn it mystified me. Silver and Gold, which, on paper were very disappointing. Then you had cadet blue and brick red and olive green and maize and cornflower blue and midnight blue and periwinkle and carnation pink and salmon and magenta (was that one of those "hot" colors?). Oooh, and wasn't there an Indian Red? Why isn't that as controversial as when Peach was called "skin color" or "flesh" or something equally as alarming?

Crayola defined color for everyone. We all knew what forest green was or plum, but when "Mauve" became the vogue, it was always a fight, because there was no crayon. Was it like this lavender or like this dusty plum? Is it dark or light? is it more red or more purple? Well, problem solved. Crayola now has a color named Mauvelous. I don't know. Maybe they are a little late on the mauve question. Maybe they are a little late on anything but the original 64 since we have gone all artsy with color naming. I mean, what is Turkish Towel, anyway? Hint: it's the color my bedroom used to be. A little taupe, a little mauve, kinda tannish, with a pink tint. Still I think it would be fun to name colors for Sherwin Williams or OPI. You know what color of nail polish "I'm Not Really a Waitress" is. "Catherine the Grape" or "Yucatan if You Want" or "Cozu-Melted in the Sun" or "You're a Pisa Work" or "Louvre Me Louvre Me Not" maybe aren't as obvious. Still I wish I'd named them. Who do they hire to sit around all day thinking of color names/plays on words?

Shhh! Don't tell my kids. In one of the dusty tins on my shelf , i have a "collector's pack" of 8 of the original Crayola colors. Never-been-used. Virgins. I admit, some of the new Crayola flavors have good names: dandelion, macaroni and cheese, timberwolf, cerulean. I'm glad we have color and I grateful for the ever expanding palette de colour and for fun names. It makes me feel happy. And okay, I guess I'm grateful for crayons, too.

The Secret to Losing Weight

When i was a teenager, i used to spend Saturdays at my Grandma's house pretending to help her clean and do laundry. I'm sure the things i did helped a little, but like looking back at most things, i wish i had worked a little harder. Anyway, i'm glad that i had the time with my grandparents that i did and got a chance to hear some of their stories. One thing i remember is that Grandma decided she was going to lose some weight. She went to a hypnotherapist who i thought was evil incarnate since he tried to brainwash her into thinking chocolate looked and tasted like animal excrement. He made her keep an elastic band on her wrist that she was supposed to snap herself with whenever she opened the fridge or thought longingly about food. It all seemed very masochistic to me, but the more i learn, the more i think hypnotherapy (psychotherapy?) makes sense because losing weight (and living life) is all in our head.

We all know how to lose weight. Eat less and exercise, right? Well, most of us also know that it is not nearly that simple. I'm not suggesting that i know everything about losing weight, but i'm going to share some of what i have learned over the past 10 months in the hopes that it may help someone get closer to their goal of reaching or maintaining a healthy weight. When i say "learned" i really mean "what i have come to believe" about food and eating and my body. Because the beliefs that i had about food and my body's needs were having me eat more than i needed and this was causing me to live a life about which i was not inspired.

So in a way, the process of losing weight for me was learning truths and in a way it has been about "brainwashing" myself into seeing things in a way that has me eating less and differently. Part of it has been about caring enough about myself to do what i need to do to feel better. I read an article that said when you binge you should be gentle to yourself. Don't hate yourself or beat yourself up. My sister, Cindy, told me, "disgust is not a good motivator."

Cindy was my inspiration. She was the reason that i believed that i could actually lose weight. She has been a Weight-Watchers life-time member for years. She is amazingly dedicated and I love how willing she is to share what she has learned and what has worked for her.

As it turns out, disgust actually did motivate me to get to my first WW meeting last March. Can you imagine not being disgusted that i was apparently perfectly happy at this weight? I had a hard time finding a "before" pic of myself. That is possibly because i am more often behind the camera than in front or it could be that everyone else knew how awful i looked and didn't want to break it to me by photographing me. So, yes, i was sick of looking and feeling the way i did, and that got me to a meeting, but what kept me there was the hope that the meetings gave me. I got all kinds of great recipes and formulas for success, which is part of why the program works. Whenever you are discouraged or have a bad day or a bad week, you go to meeting and you realize that you did have some success and that you have people and they are cheering for you. Now don't get me wrong. When i found out that I could only have 32 points (and that included 10 extra points because i was breast-feeding at the time), I was terrified. My eyes bugged out of my face. I thought they were joking. I didn't think it was possible to survive on that few calories.

Low Blood Sugar v. Low Blood Pressure

I really had never eaten that little in my life. I have always thought that i had low blood sugar, meaning when i fasted i would get deathly ill. Well, maybe not deathly, but i would get a horrible migraine (is there any other kind of migraine) and get sick to my stomach and feel like i was on the verge of losing consciousness. Consequently, i rarely fasted and i used my "blood sugar issues" as what i considered to be a perfectly valid excuse. Several events led to me reevaluate the blood sugar thing. My Mother-in-law mentioned to me that whenever she had a headache it was because she was dehydrated. I started to notice that was true for me too. Then my friend, Cherie asked me if i had ever been diagnosed or actually had a blood sugar test when i felt "low." I had to admit that i had not. It was a case of self-diagnosis. And finally, during my most recent pregnancy, i started feeling that, "I am in danger of passing out" feeling right before a check-up and i asked the receptionist for a sucker because i thought what i was feeling was low blood sugar. When I got settled in my room and the nurse took my blood pressure, it was 97/58 or something ridiculous like that. She told me that i needed to drink more water to bring my blood pressure up and that if i did, i would also not feel so spent.

When i remember that moment, i hear an actual "Click... ding dong ding dong ding dong." Wow! It all makes sense!! When i feel like i have low blood sugar, i really just have low blood pressure. This realization has changed my life. I fast now (well, in my husband's opinion, i'm not really fasting, since i still drink water) and i don't get sick. I no longer compose my life around making sure that i have ready access to food at all times. I drink more water (also a Weight Watchers principle). I carry water with me instead of food.


Some more tricks I've adopted:If i think i can't stand the growling stomach for one more second or if i'm feeling sorry for myself (what? you eat when you feel sorry for yourself?), sometimes i'll pop a bag of smart-pop 94% fat-free kettle corn and eat the whole thing, then down a tall glass of water. It makes ya feel kinda full and satisfies the munchies. Probably not the smartest thing, but this is survival, baby!

And truths I've learned: I used to think, "I need to eat a lot now, so i won't be hungry later." What i have learned is that even if i eat a lot now, i will still be hungry later. And if i save half of my Arby's Market-Fresh sandwich for later, i get to enjoy it twice! Because do we really enjoy the second half of our sandwich when we down it all in one sitting anyway (this is one of my mind tricks ~ heh heh)?


I have had a little success in losing weight and believe me, i'm not one of those self-disciplined people. I have to sort of hypnotize myself and consciously play little mind games with myself: First off, like i said, when i start to drag, i try to remember "i'm thirsty, not hungry." Then there is that thing i remind myself about being hungry later anyway, so I don't have to eat it all now. Then there is the story i tell myself that i actually enjoy it when my stomach growls. I remember my mom always told me that my stomach is only as big as my fist so that's the amount of food i should eat (Hang on a second... how come i can eat half a pizza and a thing of crazy bread and still be hungry?). Oh, and that thing she always says about how "it feels better to be thin than it does to eat something fattening." I'm still working on making that one a part of my belief system, and this next one I'm not even sure she believes: "if a food is going to hurt her tummy or her teeth, then she thinks it isn't worth the pain it will cause."

One of my favorite things is to do is to eat a salad or a Smart Ones frozen lunch because it tastes great and i feel like i'm doing something good for myself. I've even started to like things like edamame for lunch. pop a pack in the nuker and 3 minutes later, you are a vegetable-snarfing nut-cake.



Another "trick" that works for me is not to deprive myself. I'd rather go hungry for a week than miss my dad's turkey dressing at Thanksgiving dinner, so I do. I eat salads for a week and drink lots of water ~ or diet soda, which feels like a treat, without the calories ~ for a few days leading up to the big day. Or if i have an opportunity to eat something unplanned but fabulous, i just do it (in moderation... not the whole box of Cherie's hand-dipped rum-nut chocolates in one sitting, only half :)). I promise myself that i'll eat smaller portions for a couple of days or that i'll exercise, and sometimes i actually do, but i (usually) don't let myself feel guilty about it because, as i like to tell myself, that would be counterproductive and even harmful.
Reward yourself:

For a sweet treat, convince yourself that sugar-free gum is an indulgence... or oh, try one of these. Heavens, there are millions of health conscious treats and snacks on the market! And loads of resources for inspiration and information. One good place is hungrygirl.com. And finally, here's the big secret to weight loss (shhhh!): There is n-o - s-e-c-r-e-t. There's not a shortcut. There isn't a magic pill. You've just got to find what works for you and then you have to do the work. You are the only one who can make a lasting difference for yourself. You have the power. I'm not claiming to know everything. I don't know much, but i do know that the amount of weight i've lost this year is like setting down my chunky little (25 lb.) baby. Imagine carrying him with you all day. It makes your back hurt, doesn't it? I feel great. I have actually (gulp) even felt like running on occasion. I don't do it for long, but i do it in short bursts and it doesn't kill me. So, girls (and guys), whatever stories you have to tell yourself, whatever games you have to play with your mind, do it. It's worth it. You are worth it.

Water is... blue

If you don't believe me, it's because your bathtub is not deep enough. i used to be under the vague impression that the blueness of the ocean was a reflection of the pitch blue of outer space or the blue of the swimming pool was because the tiles were blue.

My bathtub is white and the only other blue thing in the room was my eyes and they were behind the camera.

Another random thought: at first i was disappointed that my new tub was made of plastic, but guess what? Plastic is not nearly as cold on your back as cast iron covered with enamel.