buckeyes

Recently, i have realized that many of my troubling abdominal issues are related to... wheat!  

Really?  Wheat?  I went to the doctor.  He said my blood test showed negative for celiac (whew!) but that it isn't always accurate (90%) and that I still may have a wheat sensitivity.  I have pretty much stopped eating wheat and I feel so much better.  Still. No pizza?  No whole wheat toast or cracked wheat in the morning?  No pancakes?  No spaghetti?  No cookies?  


I know, I know. There are "gluten free" recipes.  But gluten free flour is so... chalky.  ick.
 
So, i got a recipe from a friend for a wheat-free peanut butter cookie.  Yum! right?  Well, yeah.  But... crumbly.  Of course, i didn't take any pictures, because who takes pictures of food that's not pretty?


But I do have that recipe if you want it.  Sharon gave it to me. She got it from this website.


So, last night, for Michaela's cookie social, I just decided to take an old standby: 

Ohio Buckeyes

 This is a picture of Jen's buckeyes.

Of course, i didn't take a picture of mine because they didn't turn out as cute as these.  And then when Jen emailed me this picture, i started getting all nostalgic about Ohio.  What's not to love about Ohio(I mean, besides the Winter)?  the leaves in the fall are so gorgeous and the Apple Butter Festival?  Mmmm. 

Or maybe just I'm just missing Jen.  It's been 10 years since we visited her in her Colorado Springs home, but if there is ever someone who epitomizes the gracious host, it's Jen.  I have just had to imagine her home in Centerville, but whenever we have visited, she has known all the places to take us and made all the best local recipes to share with us.  Her home is lovely and comfortable and now she is moving to Japan.  Waaa!  That's so far away and, oooh, wait!  Maybe I can visit her there. 

Ok, here's the recipe:

Ohio Buckeyes
(do they look like the eye of a male deer? or a chestnut?  does a chestnut look like the eye of a male deer?)

1/2 lb.  peanut butter
1/4 lb.  butter
3/4 lb.  powdered sugar
6 oz. semi-sweet choc. chips
3 oz. milk choc. chips
1/4 bar paraffin (this ingredient makes Jen oogey so she leaves it out and adds a dollop of shortening)

I don't weigh ingredients, so i just melted 1 cube of butter in the microwave and globbed out what was left in my peanut butter jar and mixed in the sugar until it was the right consistency... kinda like play dough.  Then i just dipped them in semi-sweet chips because that was what i had.  i didn't add either paraffin nor shortening.  they tasted great.  Again, not so cute. Yummy but not cute. 

The Wednesday Wars

I will never never never catch up with Megan.  She just reads faster than I do... and more than I can.  But she has gotten me to read a few books, including

 Michael Vey, the Prisoner of Cell 25,

the Percy Jackson series,

 

and Found, by Magaret Petersen Haddix. 

 

All of which I enjoyed, and nothing against Richard Paul Evans, nor Rick Riordan nor Margaret Haddix, but these are all... how do I say this? um... adventure series.  But this latest book she has brought home from school is a classic.  I'm talking right up there with A Long Way From Chicago...  and maybe even dare I say, 

To Kill a Mockingbird.  This book is The Wednesday Wars

It made me laugh out loud and cry (a lot) and feel every emotion in between.  It made me want to read Shakespeare and think maybe even I could understand it. It showed me a side of U.S. history that I had not seriously considered. 

But I'd love to hear from some of you who have actually read Shakespeare.  Or who were alive when Bobby Kennedy was shot.  Is The Wednesday Wars as good as I think it is?  Will kids read it?  Will it affect them like it did me?  Megan said she liked it, and she admits she laughed and she cried (a little).  She recommended it, but, "well, it was not as good as Percy Jackson." 

Tender Mercies

Mr. Beadle's brother, David, donated bone marrow for the transplant ~ a very painful procedure for the donor.

During the last part of 1997 and the beginning of 1998, during Mr. Beadle’s treatment for leukemia (AML) which included preparing for a bone marrow transplant, he spent many weeks in the “bubble” room up at the University. No one with a hint of a runny nose (his 2 young sons) could visit him there. Fortunately, i was able to stay well enough to spend lots of time with him. And i had great support from my friends and family. They loved our boys and cared for them so that we could spend that time together. And then there were the blessed days that he was able to come home. At home, he didn’t have nurses to flush his lines and administer his meds and a dietitian to plan his meals and a cafeteria staff to prepare them and a custodial staff to keep everything sanitary. That would be me. And we could all be together. Yay!

I hate to admit that even though i was thrilled to have that time we could be together as a family, it was very difficult and overwhelming to care for all of Mr. Beadle’s physical needs and take care of the kids while trying to hold myself and my whole world together.

One icy January day, Mr. Beadle was home, in his Papa Bear chair in the front room. He was resting and reading (He read the New Testament again and the Old Testament and all of Cleon Skousen’s books. He told me later that he wanted to recognize the prophets when he met them). I had given him a little bell that he could ring if he needed me. I was trying to keep the boys occupied or at least keep their volume down to a minimum and I was supposed to plan lunch and in a few minutes i needed to flush Mr. Beadle’s PICC line (i think that’s what they called it — he had a permanent IV line that ran straight into his heart) and i don’t remember, probably a thousand other things were either on my to-do list or running through my mind. Anyway, i just lost it. I was completely overwhelmed and alone and sad and afraid.

I went into our spare room and knelt down by the bed and just threw it out there: “I can’t do this alone.” Immediately, i was enveloped in a huge hug. I felt warm. I felt peace. I felt love. I literally felt the arms of God around me. I remember thinking, “I want to stay in this cozy bubble forever.” And just at that exact moment, just as soon as that thought had wriggled loose o' the gray matter, the tinkling of that confounded little bell pierced my peace.

My bubble turned to glass—shattered. Cold. Sharp.

And angry.

Why did you leave me? I said i couldn’t do it alone! Didn’t you hear me? This is exactly like so many years ago. The emptiness. The way i can never get back the feeling of newborn Wesley on my chest. It’s not right. It isn’t fair!

We lost our first baby, Wesley in a car accident in 1992. He was 3 months old.
**********
Fast-forward 13 and a half years.

I have a lovely family and a marriage that gets stronger every day. Mr. LeFevre is a gem. Really. The best. Not that we haven’t struggled, but we have together on this earth, 6 beautiful children and a relatively warm home and none of our children have killed any of the others yet. And we have our health. Who can complain, right? Trust me, Lorinda can always find a reason and a way to complain.

I complain about my home (it's warmer now—thanks, Chad).

I complain about my marriage (even though it gets better and better, there are still hard days).

I complain about my children (yes, the beautiful ones).

I complain about my body (the reasonably attractive, relatively healthy, occasionally pain-free one).
I complain about the things I am “supposed to” do:
wipe noses,

wipe bums,

wipe counters, wash laundry, plan food, cook food, clean up food,

organize,
pay bills, read my scriptures, say my prayers, go to meetings.

I especially complained for many years about saying my prayers and reading my scriptures. And I didn’t do it very much. Praying felt like talking to the ceiling. I never once got “the hug” again.

And the scriptures? The scriptures just infuriated me. Are these people who pick up the Book of Mormon and can't put it down again even reading the same book? Are they? All I could find were contradictions and whenever I read I became angry and confused.

Still, I go to my meetings. You know, the 14th article of faith: "We believe in meetings, we have endured many meetings and hope to be able to endure all meetings. If there is any reason for a meeting, we seek after these things." I didn’t make that up, but neither did Joseph Smith, who wrote the first 13. It’s kinda true, though.

And whenever I think, “i don’t really need to go to Relief Society today, I could go home and take a nap” or “i should go home and fix dinner right now—no one will miss me” and then i end up staying, there is always something there for me. And I’m glad that I stayed. And I think it’s ok that some days I only went because I was “supposed to” go.

Here’s a little secret: did you know that the “extra” meetings are a bonus? I’m talking about Leadership meetings and Stake Relief Society Meetings and the Adult Saturday night sessions of Stake Conference. the ones where no one will know if you don’t go. Don't tell anyone, but these are the best meetings.

So... let’s skip back to last Fall (2011): i’m sitting in the meeting for the women of the church (on a Saturday night... who goes to church on Saturday night?) where President Uchtdorf is telling us via satellite transmission not to be too hard on ourselves and to remember that the Lord loves us and when he says (to me), “Wherever you are, whatever your circumstances may be, you are not forgotten. No matter how dark your days may seem, no matter how insignificant you may feel, no matter how overshadowed you think you may be, your Heavenly Father has not forgotten you. He loves you with an infinite love.You are known and remembered by the most majestic, powerful, and glorious Being in the universe! You are loved by the King of infinite space and everlasting time! He who created and knows the stars knows you and your name—you are a daughter of His kingdom. God loves you because you are His child. He loves you even though at times you may feel lonely or make mistakes. My dear sister, you are closer to heaven than you suppose. You are destined for more than you can possibly imagine.”

Or when i go with my new friends who have been called to serve with me in the Young Women’s presidency of our ward to Young Women’s leadership training meeting and Elaine Dalton tells me (me!), “God knows you. He knows your strengths and your weaknesses. You were hand-picked to be in this place at this time.”
In these 2 moments, there could not have been a more powerful witness to me if my Savior, himself had been standing there talking to me. I knew it was true. I felt the warmth. I felt the love. I got another hug. And then I walked outside and I wasn’t “in” his arms. I didn’t feel it still. But I couldn’t deny that it had happened. I knew it and i knew that God knew it and I realized right then that those moment are gifts. My Heavenly Father hadn’t left me. I can feel that feeling again. I just have to go to “meetings.” And i mean the kind of meetings with just me and God: the super-extra meetings—when no one, no one knows you are there. I can read the scriptures over again as I would a letter from my mom(they might annoy me sometimes, but there is always something there for me). I can confide in him like i would a dear friend. I can remember the feeling and believe it or not, i may even be getting better at feeling it.
And it feels good.

a little nail polish

When i was a young girl, i was always designing and making new couture for my Barbies. My Barbies always won the fashion contests (in my mind anyway).

I never thought twice about a naked Barbie. Naked Barbies were part of the landscape, right?

Then my friend with 4 boys had a daughter who turned 5 and started playing with Barbies. Now aside from all the other issues Barbies create, she's worried about it making her boys uncomfortable. So i started a little informal poll.

And boys (at least the ones i asked) are (wow) uncomfortable with Barbie nakedness. Plus, i guess, now that you mention it to me(a mom of teenage boys), teenage boys don't really need more, you know... stimulation.

So i got an idea.
A little nail polish (okay, a lot of nail polish) could do wonders!
some of my nail polish

I've always harbored a fear right down in the middle of myself
that i'm really not creative.

That i am just a copycat.
pre-dressed Barbies

Still, i am tickled with our results.

Help!

For several months, I've known, deep down in some cavernous part of my being

that I needed to revamp my sheet music situation.
All of my children have inherited musical talent
from both sides of their family.
Add that to a mother who is determined that they will overcome
the general lack
of ambition they inherited from her
so she has enrolled them in every possible toddler music class available for the last 15 years.
Just ask me. I know which one is best.
Anyway, that, plus my tendency to gather all available
resources around me
has led to a ridiculous amount of
sheet music.

Two weeks ago, piano teacher says I need to buy the
John Thompson's First Grade Book.
I have this book. I know I do.
Somewhere.

Here Goes Nothin'.
Step 1 and 2:
Get all the music. Put it out on the floor.

Oops! I forgot a whole file drawer full!

I know, just get started, right?
Well, I was a little overwhelmed.
Luckily, Cherie
showed up
(Mr. LeFevre said I could hire her so that I have a small hope of getting it
all pulled together before my mom comes to visit next month).

Step 3: start sorting:
Christmas.
Vocal.
Religious.
Piano Perfomance.
Method.
Legend of Zelda (what???).

Step 4: go through the stacks and "de-junk"
the word makes my head pulse.
My breath quickens and I start to see spots of light.
Okay.
Breathe.
I can do this.

I gave a precious little to the
Deseret Industries.

Some got recycled (mostly practice copies).

Some even got thrown in the garbage.
Step 5: start filing.

I put the big books from all the categories on this shelf in my library:

In this armoire drawer in the piano room,
Guitar
Organ and...
harmonica music

And still... I have orphans.

More filing(seriously? only one drawer?):

Note the bag of flashcards in the back.

a stack for big boys to make heads or tails of:

and just
4 short hours after beginning,
Voila!
I have the floor in my front room back.

Someday, I hope to be Jenn's equal (ha!)
But for now...
at least I have my slightly used copy of John Thompson's First Book
(I guess I can take the one I just bought back and exchange it for Book the Second)
(oops, again).

Hooray for getting organized.
Did you know it can actually save you money?

Videos of Mom

Lyndee's pediatrician suggested
at her
(1-year!!)
check up last week
that I make a video of myself
for her to watch
while we are in Alaska for 10 days this Summer.
Without her
(Boo Hoo!).

I know, some of you are wondering
"What is this lady's problem?
Get a life outside of your children."

Believe me, I have a life
outside of my children.

I have hobbies.
Several of them, in fact
(uh-oh. where'd they go?).

I have friends
(They keep track of themselves, thank goodness).

It's just that
Who doesn't want to nibble these cheeks
for lunch?
photo by Bonnie Jack

or kiss that forehead at the end of the day?

So, the video:

1. Can I stand to watch myself long enough to edit a decent video?

2. What are some songs or finger plays I can do?

I thought of

Tooth Bugs (I do not want to clean my teeth...)
Here's a Ball for Baby (so big and soft and round...)
10 Little Fingers (...and they all belong to me...)
My Hands (... upon my head I'll place...)

3. What else can I do? Why is this so hard?

HELP!!

Lyndee's on my Team!

This is my first experiment with putting video
(woo hoo! high tech!)
on my blog.

aren't these two too cute?
and Landon?
(turn up the volume)

"Go Lyndee!"
This is the first race she won...
She'll be 1 year old next week.
Dexter is 7 months old.
This was the 4th or 5th race.
He was getting tired.
She's just getting the hang of it.

Old Year/New Year

I can only aspire to be you.

and you know who you are... and you and you...
While y'all are all reflecting and making peace with the struggles of the past year and
making valiant and inspiring efforts at looking hopefully toward 2011

here I sit, planning my outfit
imagine this shirt in fuschia (my happy color) on my body which is about 10 lbs more than it should be
and my boots

my boots look kinda like the black upside down pair
and my earrings
for tonight.
and the food I'll make.
maybe.