one to remember

What was it he said?

Something close to this,

"You're pretty much an angel when you've had enough rest."

Best compliment, maybe.

a note to the photographer

Dear Mr. Satorialist Man,

From time to time I like to visit your world. Wow. Such fashion. Such flair. It's not Idaho. But, I always leave with the same question: What are these people eating?

They must be living off cigarettes. I think we'd all be featured in the Satorialist world if we were wasting away. It just looks poetic, eh?

Blue Eggs

two days ago we had our first blue egg!

Familiar Phrases Around Here

Where did you come from?
usually answered with the word "heaven".

Why did you get sent to my house?
in my head I answer my own question with that song from Sound of Music,
". . .so somewhere in my youth or childhood, I must have done something good."

You know what you're made of?
various answers: butter or sugar most common

Who's your best friend?
"OO" translates to "You", or "mommy". Good answer, good answer. XOXOXO.

Kneeling at Breakfast

My latest thing is making breakfast every morning for the children.
I know this shouldn't be a rarity, but it is.
So, it has been fun each morning, the last couple weeks, to have a real sit down breakfast together.
We even kneel down to say our morning prayer/blessing on the food.

I remember being at my Uncle Chuck's house, (you'd look out the window to the Tetons)
they'd always kneel at their breakfast prayer, or at least I have a memory of that.
Grandpa Thornock, Mr. Finch's grandfather always used to kneel for breakfast prayer too. Kneeling on the hardwood floor in the morning seems so fitting--bringing a humility, a pattern, and a gratitude.

Bringing my children together--the breakfast gathers us to pray together--is a happier beginning of our day than each of us eating on our own in rounds.

Thank you Nie

Watching Nie on Oprah today made me ponder a few things.
First of all, after watching Nie I kept trying to find the right word to describe her powerful presence--so I narrow it down to two: refined and lady.

Both she and her husband were so composed, peaceful, and full of the spirit.
It reminded me of something my mom used to say to me in high school: beauty is as beauty does. Amid my efforts back then--seeking after beauty, mom was always trying to remind me that it was deeper and much more. Today, I couldn't take my eyes off Nie and craved to know more of her--it was like looking into a whole new realm. A whole new way of approaching things--a more refined, selfless, higher way. Nie chose a hard, albeit, happy road. Waking in the mornings, sometimes when things seem especially challenging, I take courage and renewed strength as I think of Nie. She inspires me to enjoy the journey and reminds me what true beauty is.

She reminds me to slow down. She reminds me that beauty has nothing to do with losing fifteen pounds or having my hair a certain way--it's more about humility, love, sacrifice, and sometimes doing hard things to make my family happy--a sort of refined discipline.

So, yes I do still want to beautiful--and have that glow that Nie has. She always had it, but it's much stronger now.

This just in

We just found our first two eggs here at the Whitney Conservatory.
Two small brown eggs, one still warm--hot off the press.
Cost of coop: $125
Cost of Chickens: $20
Cost of feed for five months: around $200
One more step towards self-sufficiency: priceless.

2nd Annual Girls Weekend

Spent a girls weekend in Boise.
Ran the 5k, shopped, ate, watched TV (a rarity) and spent time with friends.
Good friends are such a blessing.
Got to know Roxanne's sisters and mom better--I adore them.
Came home feeling refreshed and delighted by my darling children.
Did almost make my secret goal of nine minute miles, just a few seconds over.
Thinking of a baby.
Thinking of Fall and the cooler air.
Thinking of blissful sleep.
Thinking of a husband's love.

Doing

T's cello lesson
T's piano lesson
H's piano lesson
L's violin lesson
L's piano lesson
Scouts
Young womens
Young mens
Chimes Choir
Commonwealth Class
Soccer
Seminary
Tomatoes
Beans
Corn
Raspberries
Weeds
Run
Swim
Weigh
Visit Teach
Trim Bushes
Wash the Cars
Have a Party
Take Pictures
Write in Journal
Family Picture
Christmas Prep
Worship
Groceries
Meals
Read
Pray

travels

Dear Monterey Bay,

We met last week and I fell for you quickly-your balmy air and sandy shores and noisy, ever sqwauking sea gulls. Steinbeck's influence--the paintings of his characters from Cannery Row scattered here and there. Our morning runs along the coast, followed by fruit bought at the nearby cafe, but eaten on the hotel deck. You were lovely, and there is a place in my heart for you, but alas, on our last day, we went further on the coast--
and your memory was momentarily overshadowed by Carmel. Oh sweet, darling, and nestled Carmel. Where have you been all my life? You're not Southern California, but a nice mix of Oregon coast, maybe a pinch of Sun Valley, and northern Cali. So, I will love you both, not sure which one more, until the next time.

Lawdy

Not Much Difference

dear neighbor lady,
you know the back corner out where our fence meets? The one that is hardly a fence at all?
Well, who says those are weeds on my side? Why can't we just pretend they are
expensive, rare, beautiful flowers in a carefully cultivated English garden?
What do you think?
I mean who decided that one was a weed and one a flower? They grow so abundantly--in such abandon, why should I fight them all summer only to find myself tired of it by mid August, throwing my arms in the air and let them be.
Mary Oliver says I don't have to crawl across the desert repenting,
so I think I'll just let those weeds continue.
Besides, October will be here soon enough.
And, in October, there's not much difference
between my yard and yours.

sixteen years.
happy anniversary.
must say, we are getting better at this
marriage stuff every year!

Vision Change

This land has become beautiful. How did it happen?
Have my eyes changed? My vision must have. I remember just seeing dry, forsaken desert, but now I see these waving fields of wheat and corn. Kind of like water waves--but different. And you know what? I think if I were choosing I'd choose the golden wheat and corn waves over water any day. Wow. How we evolve and change. A sprinkler, a breeze, a sunset, and a field of corn, wheat, even beans and its lovely.

Running

Why I like to run

Uncomplicated
Simple
the rhythmic pounding.
Quiet too.
So forward moving,
so forward looking,
"one step at a time"
moving.
Really "going somewhere"
progressing,
this steady motion--run.
Success easy to cypher--moving?
You're succeeding.
Run.


(Written two years ago March 29, 2007, on my 34th Birthday as I waited for my eldest in his piano lessons.)

p.s. could have just as easily written a poem about why I don't like running.

Roxy and me on 4th of July

well put blue ladies

well, darkness has a hunger that's insatiable

Is that what you do? So Do I

I've been so busy living that I haven't blogged all summer.
Summer has been full.
A few highlights:
planting garden
building chicken coop
morning walks on the canyon grade with Tierra and Roxanne
Les and kids coming to stay--fun at Bass Lake, our kids reconnecting. Kendyl's "You have boyfriend?"
Yamadas from Canada visiting, Monya is the easiest houseguest I've ever had--love her!
Kayaking in Snake River with Jenny--catching fish--it's so addictive--loved it!
Swimming in Snake with Pearsons, wishing mom and dad still lived in the canyon house
Looking at jr. and high school photo albums with Tiff, Shari, Terri, and Jo--I haven't laughed that hard in years--thanks to Tiffani Jo A. for the hilarious narration through our walk down memory lane.
Spudman--Mr. Finch ran, I swam--guess what? 19.7 minutes. Two minutes faster than my swim seven years ago. My new goal is to beat my brother-in-law, Jon's swim time of 16 minutes. Mr. Finch was so calm--I loved having him there.
Pioneer Trek--deserves a post of it's own. Be still my beating heart--how I love those pioneers--especially Levi Savage and Ephraim Hanks, and our family--funny Tanner, Suzi, McKay, Chris, Jordan, Jacob, darling Nicole, and sweet Whitney.
Mr. Finch's twenty year high school reunion last night--are we really that old? I love my husband's friends wives. They are the neatest ladies.

And still to come:

Mr. Finch's family reunion
Lewis Family coming to visit
dinners from the garden harvest
fair and rodeo
hen's laying in the fall

What we can afford or Bless Him

After Mr. Finch had made a few deragatory comments about the chickens and the need to build a coop, looming over him like a black cloud, as those chickens kept growing and stinking up the garage, I gave him a little talking to--reminding him of all the wonderful things that having animals to care for teaches our children, (not to mention the mint we're gonna make selling eggs--just kidding.)

Then, after spending an entire Saturday in the rain building the coop, making multiple trips to Home Depot for supplies, that night Mr. Finch in family prayer sincerely said, "We're thankful we can afford to have chickens."

Bless you, Mr. Finch. Bless you.

My Dear Dad

Some memories I have of my Dad:

There's a picture somewhere in my house, I am praying to find it--it's my Dad holding me when I am just a few days old. He has on a yellow-mustard colored button down short sleeve collared shirt, its unbuttoned, and he's got on a t-shirt underneath. The picture doesn't show his face--it shows his torso and his arms cradling me. I'm like a pea pod Indian baby in the picture. This is one of my happiest memories of my Dad.

I must have been about five sitting on my dad's lap in church rolling his tie up and hugging him.

Dancing a slow dance with my Dad at a church dance when I was sixteen or seventeen. I was proud to be dancing with the handsomest guy there. (He was chaperoning the dance.)

In high school I wrecked the car one morning on the way to school. He could have been angry, but I remember being impressed with his restraint and patience with me in a trying time.

One summer day when I was fifteen, Dad had been out on the boat most of the day giving family and lots of children rides on tube, turns skiing, etc. I had been at work most of the day, and that night he went to the trouble of taking me out waterskiing since I'd been gone all day. I've always remembered that.

Living in Jerome, I remember the fun we'd have on summer days when Dad would irrigate the lawn with those tubes. He always kept the yard so beautiful. Whenever I stepped on other lawns I wondered why their grass was weedy and lumpy, and I knew it had something to do with my Dad.

Over all the others, I love the memories I have of my Dad sharing his feelings about Jesus Christ and the Gospel. Usually this was at home in the living room on a Sunday or Monday evening. I liked his tears and emotion.

I remember when I was just a child, my Dad watching M.A.S.H. and Johnny Carson each night and eating popcorn, and maybe a few slices of a milky way candy bar. Almost every Sunday night he'd make popcorn balls for a treat. On Saturday mornings, even now, he makes waffles. I like it when he's dancing around the kitchen taking waffles off the griddle, singing silly songs, or trying to kiss my mom.

Nowadays, I watch my Dad play legos on the floor with my children, or take them to D.Q. for treats--they adore him. Tru, my oldest is now fourteen--his limbs are lean and long--I see my Dad in him--the skinny high school kid. I look at Tru's long fingers and beautiful nails and see my Dad's hands. When Tru was three I remember him telling me he wanted to be as "tall as Grandpa B."

He's still the handsomest man in the room and I'm still so happy he's my dad!

I love you Dad. I am blessed to be your daughter. Happy Father's Day to you.
My prayers are daily for you and your heart to stick around here on earth with us for a long time yet.

WEED & READ

We are doing a new thing around here every summer morning.
It's lovely. It's free. It's productive. It's good for soul and body.
It's called "WEED & READ." I can't take credit for the idea or the name--they both came from Sariah, remember my friend Sariah? Well, she told me about it and we've done it each day this week. It's amazing how much we can get done in just thirty-sixty minutes a day. We can do the entire yard in a week.

First thing after breakfast, while it's still cool we all head out to the yard or garden to weed. We weed, all in the same spot, while one of us reads out loud to the others. Mom was going to do all the reading, but I quickly found out I was itching to weed while the children are not as motivated to--so I let them take a day to read too. Just this week alone we've read about Magellan, Julius Caesar's tragic death, Casey at Bat, Abe Lincoln's Gettysburg Address, part of Don Quixote, and an assortment of poems. We're reading from that What to Teach Your Fifth Grader book.

Here's to a great new family tradition!

Green, chicks, kitts, and Shakespeare

The chicks are here! So interesting to watch. Ten in all. A little dream come true. Only time will tell if it's still a dream next winter in cold early mornings--maybe a nightmare.

Spring is here at the Conservatory. Never seen a spring quite as vibrant as this one.

And with Spring, a new batch of kittens--this one is Sophie, sporting a lovely doll sweater.

This little Aracana (sp?) chick is named Sarah.

Our Commonwealth School put on Shakespeare's play, "As You Like It," last weekend at the Oakley Playhouse. Can't believe they pulled it off--we were all a little apprehensive, but it turned out fabulously! Who knew they had it in them? Darling kids!

Meet Leo

Leo is L.'s (12) new rabbit--our favorite breed--the Netherland Dwarf--smallest of all rabbits.

He is betrothed to Pansy--another Chestnut Netherland Dwarf. Neither of them are full-grown yet.

Tru's Court of Honor

Tru received his Eagle!

You Asked For a Picture

Here's the Table--the one I don't love. Clean lines, rustic, heavy, dried mango wood. Note L.'s (3)pant patches. He loves his pants with patches.

Another view of the table the night before Easter.

inconsequential

Things are just things.
Bryce, my older brother, or was it Glen?, no, I think it was Bryce once told me
"you love people, not things."
I must have remarked about something I loved.

I agree, so I am trying not to LOVE my new dining table.
It's Celestial.
We spotted it three years ago, and just bought it last week.
It is my 36th Birthday present.

Note to Self

What I want to say to myself:
embrace your choices
embrace where you are
embrace the possibilities around you
Don't pine about what is out of reach
Don't whine about what is left behind
Rejoice in the now
Rejoice in the how
Rejoice in the berries, the chickens, the never-ending yard
work.

Feeding the Hungry and House Hunting

So,
there it is again,
my favorite intro.
"Where have you been?"

Me? Where have you been?

I, for one, wondered if I'd ever have another post on my blog at all.
I seriously considered closing up shop for good. Luckily, I didn't delete it all in one fail swoop.
I'm notorious for deleting things in the heat of the moment.
For example, if I ever dated you and then didn't, chances are I have no pictures of you left--not a one. Another example would be the numerous times I've thrown out tapes or CD's over the years--purging them because I felt they were not as appropriate or praiseworthy as they should be, only later to wonder what I was thinking.

One of my favorite relaxing things to do is look at houses. For the weekend, the Wall Street Journals home section is ideal. You know how your heart rate is lower watching TV than sleeping? Well, my heart rate is even lower when I look for houses. It soothes. The Journal is fun because you get to the point where anything under a million is a bargain. Anything less than that really catches my eye. I like to decide which house would be the best--maybe just narrow it down to two or three. I still need to do my documentary "To All the Houses I've Loved Before."

The highlight of my week was serving at the local soup kitchen tonight. Such purpose. I love it when the purpose is so clear and uncomplicated. For two hours it was bliss. Help. Thats all. Just help. I can handle that. I can be a good person when it's uncomplicated. I really feel a kinship with homeless people. I'm not joking. Maybe something about my life mission has to do with "feeding the hungry." And I mean not just the hungry people within the walls of my own house, although for now, that is the feeding that is most important.

Good night you.

Thomas Jefferson Ed Forum 2009

This year the highlight of the Forum was Oliver DeMille's Keynote address. Mr. Finch had tears falling out during most of it. I love it when Mr. Finch cries. He does it often.

Demille's keynote "The Great Depression of 2012"

First Demille reviewed the phases from the book: The Fourth Turning by William Strauss & Neil Howe.

Four Phases in history that have ALWAYS occurred--and are a cycle--over and over.

1. REBUILDING

2. AWAKENING

3. UNRAVELING

4. CRISIS (actually three within this: a. wake up, b. economic crisis, c. major military crisis, or pandemic.

Any guess which phase were in now? You're so right! CRISIS. You are so intelligent.

Let's get to know the phases a bit.
If you want to FAIL--Live in the last cycle. To SUCCEED--live in the current phase and look to the next one too. Almost everyone lives by laws of the last phase.

Rules of Success for the phases:

1. rebuild phase-home and entraupreaneurships
2. Awakening phase-get a career with a big institution
3. unraveling phase-get whatever career you can and do a lot of fun things in the evening.
4. crisis phase-home and community are key--connections and relationships

Nowadays, anyone over 30-60 defines success as college, career, entertainment, big house, nice vacations, retirement. This is entirely outdated.

We can take all these old ideas and burn them on the front yard for everyone to see--let all these old ideas go. Burn 'em. Start Fresh. Start doing and being who you are destined to be. Stop trying to do what our culture has taught--do what you know is essential. Take back your evenings with your family.

For age 60plus, success was defined as public school--because back then they saw teachers and admin. as extension of parents. Also, they define success as being at same stable job for your entire career. They see savings as the best investment. "Public schools are so 2nd Turning." Yes, they were extensions of parents in 1947, but not now.

Those who will thrive now--will embrace the new rules. YOU and YOUR children should be the ones to embrace the new rules. The new is liberating, freeing.


NOW--what to do? DeMille made a list of 14 Key Points to Success-- things to help us through--from one of my all time favorite books that usually sits on my bedstand,
Our Home, 1st volume, by CE Sargeant

14 Key Points to Success in 4th and 1st turnings:

1. Embrace the New and the Now. This IS our new economy. Forget 3rd phase goals--let the old go. Write down new goals. Set sights for the now and new.

2. Evenings and Sundays with Family
Sargeant describes so well--BUILD those relationships

3. Self-Culture: as opposed to pop culture. pop culture: trying to fit in.
Self-culture: doesn't try to fit in, instead says "I think I'll just be myself." There's a self in there that couldn't care less about fitting in. Burn all the old in your front yeard.
What you Wanted to do, What you Wanted to be--NOW--it's the time.

For next 30 yrs, this is Reality. Burn the junk and make it happen. You will be happy when you choose to be happy.

4.Individual Rules for LIfe

Self-culture
Write up rules for your life
Plan them and live them

5. Raise Adults--it's time to get started.
In 2nd turnings we raise accountants, drs., lawyers, etc.
In 3rd turnings we raise children--stretch out as long as you can. (there's a lot of 30 yr. old children out there)
4th turnings we raise ADULTS.
Cause we need them when they're 17 to serve our country and serve freedom
We need them at 17 to start businesses on their own.

6. Meaning--trials, sorrows, difficulties
Part of meaning is to be grateful.

7. In 4th phase the focus will be:
Widows
Orphans
Grandparents
Children
Sick (those who are)
Unhappy (those who are)
Before, in 3rd phase these were "projects", in 4th--they're our life.

8. Marriage is Central Focus of your life.
First you're a husband, then a dad.
First you're a wife, then a mother.

9. Initiative Education
2nd phase- job training
3rd phase-job skills
4th phase-those with initiative lead out and make the day
1st phase-Leadership

10. Entrepreneurship

in 4th phase You get to dig down and build from scratch
1st phase-grow the business

11. Produce Wealth
4th phase create wealth to Help the Needy

12. Creativity and Inventiveness
Be creative in your frugality
Be creative in finding money

13. Resiliancy--never give up. stay optimistic. keep improving

14. Ambition--making sure Good wins out.

In 2020-2025 Society will decide for free future or socialistic future.

ALL of these happened in a 4th phase: US Constitution, Ended Slavery, Ended Naziism, All great things happen in 4th phases

It's time to put nice house, car, retirement behind us--it's not reality anymore.
BE A Family and help community.

tomorrow

it's that time of year again. . .
the thomas jefferson education forum in salt lake city.
looking forward to it. . .
i'll post my notes again this year.

I hope I remember

I don't think I can do it justice, so I am not going to try.

But, if I were going to write something to try and capture what I really want to remember about our friend Ben --his life and the memorial for him yesterday, it would be something about this:

Ben was here for a short 13 years.
Ben was joy and love.
Ben had Prader-Willi syndrome.
Ben calling the librarian every morning at 6:00 am to see if they would be open that day.
Ben walking his Fast Offering Route with joy, no matter how long it took.
After hearing his father complain about someone, Ben asking, "Can I still like them, dad?"
Ben was pure and truthful--without guile.
Ben stood still and smiled at you.
Ben was never in a hurry.
Ben honoured his Priesthood.

Chelle at There She Goes (http://itsawonderfulwonderfulworld.blogspot.com/) posted this on her blog--it's inspiring. Enjoy! (Mom, scroll down and turn off my music first)

Gentlewomen Farmers

The afternoon today looked like this:

Five home schooling moms sitting around a picnic table at the local pool (covered over with a bubble for the winter) visiting about raising cows, chickens, and children, while our young happily splashed and played shark and minnow in the pool. Was one of those times where I wouldn't have been any other place in the world.

I began by stating that the home raised quarter beef we'd purchased from a local farmer was unlike any meat we've ever tasted--it's delicious. I've never been a meat person, well, let me tell you--this is living--this is meat. We eat it on Sundays and are surprised each week at the flavor.

Fellow mom, Charity, said we could raise our own beef.

"How hard can it be?" she confidently assured. "We just buy a calf, put it out to pasture,"
"and finish it on grain" I piped in.

Also discussed was the possibility of two or three families sharing a milch cow (doesn't Little Britches spell it like that? it has such a nice ring when you spell it like that).

And, last but not least was chickens. Sariah worried about their rooster, Bill, last night in the downpour, so got up at 2:00 am to cover the poor man who she kept envisioning standing in inches of water.

I'm happy sitting around talking cows, chickens--maybe we didn't actually get around to children talk today. No matter.

Later, taking L. to her dr. appoint, I don't think I'll capitalize that, I felt sad for the young ladies at the front desk. The ENT's office is connected to a medical spa (think lipo) and I went to the wrong entrance, those enchanted girls working there were so done up and were a bit put out to tell me, in my denim skirt and boots (my uniform), which entrance to go to. How much they miss. They missed the cow, chicken, and Rooster Bill afternoon. Poor, poor things. I think I saw a tub of the remains of the lipo (think fat) in our dr. room. Serious. I'm gonna ask next time if it is.

L.(5), while waiting for the dr. to come in, read out loud one of the attention getters on a Woman's "Health" Magazine "Lose Your Belly."
"Mom, have you ever lost your belly?"
"No, L. I wouldn't want to."
"Why, can you not breathe without it?"
"Well, it would be hard to, and you couldn't eat your supper."

Lesson here: Ladies leave well enough alone. Your naturally aging body is more beautiful than those cheek bones I can spot a mile off. Please, just leave it alone.
Go raise a chicken, plant some seeds, buy a calf, you'll feel better soon.

"The Federal Government Did Not Create the States"

This quote is old, but it applies as well today as ever:

Campaigning for the presidency, Reagan said,
"This is the issue: whether we believe in our capacity for self-government or whether we abandon the American Revolution and confess that a little intellectual elite in a far distant capital can plan our lives for us better than we can plan them for ourselves. . . .Somewhere a perversion has taken place. Our natural, inalienable rights are now considered to be a dispensation of government, and freedom has never been so fragile, so close to slipping from our grasp as it is at this moment.

. . .in this present crisis, government is not the solution to our problem; government is the problem. . . Our government has no power except that granted it by the people. It is time to check and reverse the growth of government, which shows signs of having grown beyond the consent of the governed.

from 2/20/09 www.thepatriotpost.us

Honeymoon's Over

Remember those first few months of blogging?
Getting on the computer and stumbling into someone's world and being delighted and amazed that they are just like you? --They actually think just like you, and . . .wow, we have so much in common. Remember again stumbling into yet another blog--an old friend of a friend, someone you hadn't talked to in years? Wasn't that fun? Wasn't it great to see the different styles of decorating homes, the cooking ideas shared, and fashion too? And also having your faith strengthened, and your sense of self validated by observing others in all their unique and sometimes quirky ways.

I kinda feel like the honeymoon is over--it's like I keep expecting that we'll all go to lunch and actually meet. My favorite blogs remain the same:

Pioneer woman
Country doctor's wife
yes, CJane
Nie too
Balancing Everything
Flourishing Mother
Melancholy Smile
Design Mom
and of course people I actually know.

But some days I'm just plain bitter about the fact that I'll never actually meet Pioneer Woman, even though I feel like she's my sister, and Country Doctor's wife is my sister too--she's even more peculiar than I am, but anyway--just a bit of dissatisfaction at the remoteness--the loneliness of knowing, but not really knowing, ya know?

Madness

So now Federal Banks?
Scary.
I'm speechless.
But Glenn Beck isn't.
Are you listening to him?

Mom's in the kitchen

I keep thinking this today:

Mom is in the kitchen making bread,
God is in His Heaven,
All is right with the world.

Is that irreverent? --Just the significance of where mom is and what she's doing. Such simple things to bring peace and contentment to a household, but funny how sometimes that peace and contentment is so elusive. It really does feel nice--like this morning when I'm in the kitchen and the sun is coming through the windows. I'm making wheat bread with freshly ground wheat, the big kids are at the counter doing their math, the little kids are playing trains on the floor--it just feels good. What more could we possibly want?

(. . .well, i could maybe think of just a couple little things)

Looking Forward To:

1. chickens in the spring
must build a small coop

2. planting raspberry bushes out back
must order the plants

3. making a new tablecloth
must find and purchase cloth with springtime colors

LAWDY LAND--(see above)

Credit and thanks go to Sara from Chronicles of Schofield http://schofieldstudio.blogspot.com/
for coining the phrase "Lawdy Land"--I love it! Thus, it has been added to the name of my blog. I'm sure you're all thrilled. Chanks Sara. You should check out her lovely, fun, and thoughtful blog above. Oh, and we're sister-in-laws twice removed. Just kidding. I have no idea what that means, but we are truly related, sort of.

Stimulus Schimulus

Well, well, well.
Want to hear T. Jefferson's view on it?

". . .If one generation chould charge another with a debt, then the earth would belong to the dead and not to the living generation. Then, no generation can contract debts greater than may be paid during the course of its own existence."
AND:
"We shall all consider ourselves unauthorized to saddle posterity with our debts, and morally bound to pay them ourselves; and consequently within what may be deemed the period of a generation, or the life of the majority."

"The principle of spending money to be paid by posterity, under the name of funding, is but swindling futurity on a large scale."

In Grandpa's Wallet

While going through Grandpa's wallet last week, Grandma found this little poem--a creed Grandpa followed. None of us had ever seen or heard it before. By the look of the paper, he'd been carrying it for some time, we don't know how long, at least four decades, maybe longer. The paper was yellow with age and the print was almost gone in some areas. He carried it in one of those little temple recommend plastic covers. The first line of it got us. It reminds me of cowboy poetry.

It ain't so far from Right to Wrong
The Way ain't hard to lose
There's times I'd almost give my horse to know which way to choose.
There ain't no signs or guideboards up
To keep you on the track
Wrong's sometimes white as driven snow
And white looks awful black.
I don't set up to be no judge of right or wrong in men
I've lost the trail sometimes myself. I may get lost again.
So when I see a friend who seems as though he'd gone astray
I want to shove my hand in his and help him find the way!

A Mighty Man

Could they be any cuter?

Great Grandpa Thornock (Mr. Finch's grandpa) passed yesterday morning around 4:30 a.m. Sunday he sat at the table, dressed and eating his breakfast, Monday and Tuesday he was in bed all day and not responsive, and early the next morning he left. After the early morning session at the temple yesterday, I went to see Grandma. She met me in the hall laughing and crying saying, "They're having a big party without me!" Referring to Grandpa and his only son who died thirty some years ago and one of his four daughters who also died years ago, and Grandpa's parents.

Grandpa Thornock is a rare kind. He's gentle. He's extremely patient and even-toned. He and Grandma never slept apart--except when he was in the Service. If grandma went to get her hair cut, grandpa went too, and vice versa. Going into their home has always been like an automatic slowing down. I've never seen either of them rushed. They always act as though you are the very person they wanted to see, and you must sit down and have something to eat. They have no other purpose that day and time than to visit with you.

Grandpa Thornock has had more influence on Mr. Finch than any other person. We're thankful for Grandpa's life and example. He is a mighty man. Grandma asked me yesterday morning if I thought he might be waiting in a line or something. I laughed and said, "No, grandma, grandpa is the kind they just wave right through."

Everyday on the Radio

Quote,
momentary lack of reason
lapse in judgement
mispoke
partial
made a mistake
embezzle
stimulus
bail out
free? market
end quote.

The situation reminds me of our dearest ailing Grandfather. Wondering how much longer he'll have to suffer. Wanting to know what we can do, but also feeling a bit helpless. Wondering how much longer and how bad it'll get.

So, yes, Republics are the least stable because they rely upon Virtue as their fuel.

In Honor of the Linden out back (and greener days)

We are memorizing this poem now. Isn't it lovely? I'd like to be like this tree--lifting leafy arms to pray.

Trees

by Joyce Kilmer

I think that I shall never see

A poem as lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest

Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day,

And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in Summer wear

A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;

Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,

But only God can make a tree.

The Derby

Hen made a good showing at the Pinewood this year. We all gave a long sigh of relief as he won his first race. He designed and painted a royal blue car, with four quarters and a dime taped on last minute to meet the weight limit. Almost made it to the Mall competition, but lost by a hair.

best part:The Grey Hat With the Bow

inaugurate:1. to induct into office with a formal ceremony 2. to make a formal beginning of; start 3. to celebrate formally the first public use of; dedicate.

just today

Shelves
books
disorder
use
reuse
crumbs
decisions
decay
Baruka
tantrums
patience
virtues
lack of
thirty five
years
growing
thighs
ever
fog frost
daddy's
coming home.

little girls

One she left behind.

Lucy & Eliza Jane

Lili took these last summer . . .

A Touch of Aspen (is that misleading?) think what you will.

Maybe our best B. Family Reunion yet.
Talent Show
Square Dancing
Scrabble
Evening Devotionals
Sledding
Glen's first 24 hour PB&J Bar

Missing:
Cousin's March


Grandpa B. snowshoeing

Tru enjoying the outdoors (we said no ipods while interacting with humans).

Mamas Don't Let Your Babies Grow up to be Cowboys

I think Lil's been inspired by Pioneer Woman's photography:

My oldest brother Glen's belt buckle from when he was a little cowboy, he's now fifty something.

Lili (11) likes to dress up the "babies" every so often and take them out for "photo shoots." She did these last Saturday during my nap. We are fond of them. We want them to be backgrounded with Willie Nelson's "Mama's Don't Let Your Babies Grow up to be Cowboys" song.

Tweed Dreams

I've found it.
The dream sectional.
I'd found it in shape before at Roxanne's, but
now I've actually found the fabric.

As I was flipping through the fabric samples on the ring,
It reached out and grabbed me.

It's just like a tweed jacket.
I love tweed.
I've even thought of naming a son "Tweed,"
imagining it sounding so manly.
But, Tweed would so quickly turn to "Tweedy", then "Tweety"--not so masculine. So that name will never be.
My couch, on the other hand, has a very fair chance of being.

In our fifteen years together I've talked Mr. Finch into a lot of things,
tweed jackets have not been one of them.
How many times have I imagined him in a tweed jacket with a white shirt?
Well, he will not.
No matter! I will have a TWEED COUCH!

I'll have to show you the fabric samples sometime.
Leaning to the "herb" or "butterscotch."

With All This Talk. . .

of new beginnings,
fresh leaves,
turning pages,
I keep thinking that if we are not living the life we were meant to live--
if we are not being the people--the person we could be--the
person truth means us to be, then,
no matter what we do to comfort or console ourselves,
no matter what we accomplish in any way--
be it beauty,
learning,
or skill,
we, ourselves,
and our lives
will be sadly
STALE.
And no amount of outward effort will take away that staleness in our eyes, our spirit and our very being.
When we are true though, our authentic spirit comes through and overcomes a multitude of failures.

Some New Will

Hi,
You came!
I'm so happy to see you.
Come in and get warm.

There's a special meal here for us.
I didn't prepare it, but it's here nonetheless.

I was thinking you've been so busy.
You could use a bit of a rest, (me too).
A few moments to collect ourselves as we embark on a new year.

Welcome to my dining room.
You'll see the table is simple--with a honey-colored stain,
numerous nicks due to children's pencils, but clean still.

Two large serving dishes on the table.
They look delicious, don't they?
Please, sit down.
Would you like some?

Well, the one does look like mashed potatoes to me,
that's the Faith. It's heavier--more substantial.
The other one is mixed berries and some whipped cream on top.
That one's the Hope.
Oh, that's OK, they can be whatever flavors you want.
No, no they don't have any calories--but give
limitless energy to body and soul.
Yes, they are similar, but different enough.

It's more filling than you think, and rejuvenating.
Take a bite--you'll see.
Nothing's the same after.
Physically, mentally, spiritually, socially.
Wherever you are--no matter.
However long you've been there--no matter.
This meal of Faith and Hope has a way of changing
us and bringing all things good to our remembrances.

Regenerating
it is.
Regenerating are we.
Regenerating through Faith and Hope prepared for us, by Him.
A new will into our being. A new way--a more perfect way,
Only whole.

RING IN THE NEW AND TRUE

Did you sing this today at church too?

Mr. Tennyson hit it out of the park with this one.

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky, The flying cloud, the frosty light. The year is dying in the night; Ring out, wild bells, and let him die. The year is dying in the night; Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.

Ring out the old; ring in the new. Ring, happy bells, across the snow. The year is going; let him go. Ring out the false; ring in the true. The year is going; let him go. Ring out the false; ring in the true.

Ring in the valiant men and free, The larger heart, the kindlier hand. Ring out the darkness of the land; Ring in the Christ that is to be. Ring out the darkness of the land; Ring in the Christ that is to be.

From Scout to Mr. de La Villehuchet

On December 24th the Journal reported that Mr. de La Villehuchet, "co-founder of an investment advisory firm that suffered losses in the Madoff scandal" had been found dead in his Manhattan office. He had lacerations from a box cutter on his arms and sleeping pills were found nearby. My thoughts have been pondering poor Mr. Villehuchet. Whether or not he was at fault is beside the point. I've heard some words in my head in the child voice of Scout when she's talking to Mr. Cunningham outside the courthouse in To Kill a Mockingbird. The situation is different somewhat, but essentials are the same. If Scout could have spoken to Mr. Villehuchet in his despair I think she would have said, "Entailments are bad, but every little bit helps." I think she'd tell him that life is more than money. I think she'd try and comfort him and tell him all was not lost--and whatever was lost could be found, at least the essentials.

Mr. Villehuchet you are more than your money. You are a child of a loving Father. Mr. Villehuchet, please don't despair, there is a way. He would have cried, or maybe would have been too far gone for tears, but Scout would have tried to touch his hand and tell him it would be O.K. Mr. Villehuchet, do you have grandchildren? Mr. Villehuchet I'm so sorry you were so alone and so hurting. Mr. Villehuchet, it will be all right. It will work out. Mr. Villehuchet you aren't alone.

Merry Christmas to All

Happy, happy, Christmas
That can win us back to the
delusion of our childhood days,
recall to the old man the pleasures of his youth,
and transport the traveler back to his own
fireside and quiet home.

--Charles Dickens

Our Presbyterian Neighbors

Spent a lovely morning worshipping at the local Presbyterian Church. I haven't visited very many churches outside of my own faith in my life. They have a beautiful old building--gorgeous with stain glass windows. Linc (3) looked up at me as the meeting was starting and said "what is this--a temple?" The home school hand bell choir was performing, so we went to hear them play. The congregation and pastor were so welcoming and friendly. Singing hymns with them was wonderful--and the pastor's message was uplifting and sincere. I loved the call to prayer--people randomly stood up and asked the congregation to raise their prayers up for "so and so" who's recently had "this or that" struggle in their lives. So nice. Then, after the service we all headed down to the basement for a party. Cookies to decorate and eat, cake, little flannel stocking ornaments to make. A few of us visitors looked at each other and said we'd like to try and institute cake after church too, at our own wards.

I'm so thankful for so many good people in the world--and for so many places of worship. I'm thankful to pray together with others, and I'm so thankful for welcoming love, even though we aren't members of their congregation.

p.s. Put a very large cardboard box outside, for the cats to cuddle up in, and gave them an extra blanket too. I think they're gonna be O.K.

a little bit of this, a little bit of that

Last night we went to the temple with the Ward Young Men's Presidency. It was nice. When the temple first opened, I was faithfully going every Wednesday morning to the early session, but after eight weeks of that, I just lost the habit. It's so nice to have a place that is so beautiful right here! I still can't believe it's here and that it is as lovely as it is.

We've been cleaning all day, and shoveling snow. It's hard to believe that I can dust one day, and the next day it's dusty again. We tried to go through some old papers and sort some of the piles of books that have a way of collecting on our bedstands and bookshelves and also stacked by the bedside. So many good things to read, so little time. So many things to memorize, or type up, or "to not forget." But only so much mind space. It reminds me that there's a reason we have the scriptures, and makes me feel a bit freer to throw away things I like in writing. I can't possibly keep all the quotes, articles, and poems that I read and like. But, I think, we have the most important words here in the scriptures.

We are almost ready for Christmas. It's humorous what a time we have here getting our Christmas cards addressed. We always have a struggle finding updated addresses.

I've resolved to try and keep politics out of my blog, to a certain extent. Over the years whenever I get excited about anything I want to tell the world, because they'll of course be excited too, no? No! I learned early in our marriage to not talk about home schooling. Then, I learned not to talk about natural or home birth either. Most recently, I am learning to be more cautious about speaking about politics. It's a good thing to learn. It is always a pleasant surprise though, when you stumble into the circle or "inner ring" of someone who appreciates a few similar views.

Now, on to the cats. Do you like my transitions in this entry? There are none. Anyway, the cats, Tonks and Bilbo are suffering through this rugged winter. Poor things. My heart is truly tempted to let them in and sit by the fire, but only tempted. Get thee behind me cats. I do feel concerned for their welfare, but I don't want cat hair all over and I can smell them and. . .no, they'll just have to make do. We will be buying them a bit of a Christmas treat--canned cat food. It's a rarity around here.

Yes, I will report that I have been running/walking almost every day. This week it was fun to go in the snow, ice, wind. I do like going out knowing that I can stop to walk a bit if I want. If I tell myself it will only be running, then it's a bit bleaker for my outlook.

Good night. Only five more sleeps 'til Christmas! When I was little in Jerome I remember waiting for my big brothers and their movie star wives to come home for Christmas. It was blissful to have them there. Nothing better. And I remember waiting in bed, straining to hear sounds outside on the roof.

Best Christmas Card Ever

This little family is mesmorizing. We keep watching this over and over.

Wishing You a Merry 'Vintage' Christmas! from Jared Foster on Vimeo.

People of Israel, Part II

i don't get out much. . .so this got my attention.

Mr. Finch, what time is our flight to Paris?

school boys in Jerusalem

Israeli soldiers in Jerusalem

is he not precious? He's looking through the fence to the wailing wall.

yes, i need a good camera & a few lessons,

please, just imagine how awesome this pict. would be if it weren't fuzzy. I love the devotion. I love the head to toe black. I love the black, and sometimes white beards.

This darling little old lady takes her post daily by the Dome of the Rock. Her husband will talk your ear off and give you a great tour, and at the end will tell you the price. And you thought he was just visiting with you.

The People of Israel, Part I

Haven't you always imagined how fun it'd be to be a National Geographic photographer?
Well, here's as close as I'll ever get. I loved the people of Israel. They are beautiful!
Our guide and his wife--we adore them!

Our guide and his three boys. . .School girls--they are radiant and modest. We loved the modesty.

This little girl reminded me of Lili a few years ago.

In Jerusalem, outiside the Garden of Gethsemane.

Last December in Israel

By the Garden Tomb

A year ago at this time Mr. Finch and I were in Israel. For the past few days I've been thinking about the trip--I'm so glad we went in December, because now I will always associate December with Israel.

The highlight of the trip for me was learning that mangers were made of

stone--

like the ones below. The Christ child, who is our rock, was born and laid in a rock, then died, and was again laid in a rock--the sepulcher.
See how the part that's chiseled out is just right for a baby--wrapped in swaddling clothes to be laid in?

my democratic sister-in-law Laura and myself


Another manger

Drinking troughs, or mangers like these were located in villages on the main streets for people to feed their animals from.

Motivation to Move

I've been having a bit of a time with motivation lately. Specifically, motivation to exercise. Last night I came across an article in The Wall Street Journal that inspired me. You can check out this guy, Dr. Harvey Simon, who's had a 30 year running streak--he actually has not missed a day in thirty years! www.WSJ.com/Sports

Thanks to Dr. Simon I went out for a five mile run this morning. Slow, granted. Actually ran three, and walked two. Felt fabulous. Tomorrow I have an appointment with my shoes and the road.

My Christmas Wish: Pedestrian lane on country roads.

rewind a little

Guess who?

A baker, a scary guy, and three pirates (one is L.'s friend)

Our little baker/chef has a Jack-o-lantern smile.

Thanksgiving at Home This Year

Scrabble Game essential to a great Thanksgiving.

Dinner with sweet Grandma Marjean, Grandpa, and Grandma Di.

This is Mr. Grouchy. He's old and he's grumpy on the outside. He won the pumpkin contest this year (I created him).

Tru's Eagle Scout Project. He collected 50 blankets and 77 coats for the local Refugee Center. Good job Tru!

Trying to cure my attachment to these boots, I thought it might help to take a picture of them. I just can't seem to throw them away. All my little cowboys have worn these boots and they are shot. But still they stay.

Did I mention how fabulous Lili's deviled eggs are? She also made a yummy pumpkin roll, and did most of the Christmas decor--what'd we do without her?

Today I am Thankful for

blue plaid flannel sheets (do you have flannel sheets for winter--imperative!)
washing machines
dryers
swiffer dusters
indoor plumbing
heaters in cars
the six month old, bald, bobble headed smiling, fat baby who sits in front of us at church each week, and makes us think "maybe one more"
the nice lady, Mrs. Popsicle, at the refugee center who helped Tru with his project
people who forgive
stitches for free
sticky mouse traps
ideas of what to give for Christmas presents
Glen Beck coming to sign books
three year olds who sing "To Life, to Life, Lechiam" how to spell?

When He's Gone

Why is it that when Mr. Finch is out of town I feel possessed to go on donut runs and get fast food for dinner? It's strange that having him gone makes me completely incapable of peeling a potato or cooking anything. Does this happen to anyone else? It's as though my mind says, "oh you poor thing, Mr. Finch is gone, but here--have a donut, you deserve it." Also, I have a terrible time getting to bed at a decent hour when he's not around. Luckily, he doesn't travel much or there would be utter chaos around here. He's home tonight--yea! I'm sick of fast food!

Sanity Check

After being rebuked by my sister-in-law this weekend over a slide show I sent out, regarding the state of our nation and its future, I thought I should regroup and refocus on my scriptures and see if I wasn't somehow off key, or out of tune.

So with the best of intentions I hit my reading Sunday evening in humility, wanting to see if I somehow wasn't seeing clearly. Funny thing was, my eyes were pulled to the chapter I'd be reading Monday. The chapter heading said ". . . Modern Gentiles are warned against the secret combination which shall seek to overthrow the freedom of all lands, nations, and countries." And the verses my eyes were pulled to:

Wherefore, O ye Gentiles, it is wisdom in God that these things should be shown unto you, that thereby ye may repent of your sins, and suffer not that these murderous combinations shall get above you, which are built up to get power and gain--and the work, yea, even the work of destruction come upon you, yea, even the sword of the justice of the Eternal God shall fall upon you, to your overthrow and destruction if ye shall suffer these things to be.

Wherefore the Lord Commandeth you, when ye shall see these things come among you that ye shall awake to a sense of your awful situation, because of this secret combination which shall be among you; or wo be unto it, because of the the blood of them who have been slain; for they cry from the dust for vengeance upon it, and also upon those who built it up.
Book of Mormon, Ether 8:23-24.

It was like I was reading these things for the first time. And so I decide that I'm not a knucklehead.
p.s. In my defense, I am very much "Finding Joy in the Journey," as President Monson recently counseled us to do: http://www.lds.org/ldsorg/v/index.jsp?vgnextoid=2354fccf2b7db010VgnVCM1000004d82620aRCRD&locale=0&sourceId=92764bb52a73d110VgnVCM100000176f620a____&hideNav=1

Little Women

Our current read aloud is Little Women. Have you read it recently? It may be time again. Always a nice read for fall or winter. Here's Laurie expressing so well what I feel on an almost daily basis,
" I keep turning over new leaves and spoiling them, as I used to spoil my copybooks, and I make so many beginnings there never will be an end." p.260

At church yesterday I made a list of a few things I'm trying to remember (into a sort of poem).

Read (scriptures)
Run (3 miles) it's more like a waun.
Green (drink) a. m. daily
Orange (juice cantaloupe) or something orange for lunch
Live (moderately)
Sleep (early) and rise early

The Whole Course is Deliberate

“Do not think that all these
usurpations, intimidations,
and impositions are
being done to us through
inadvertency or mistake, the
whole course is deliberately
planned and carried out;
its purpose is to destroy
the Constitution and our
Constitutional government.”
General Conference—October 1949
J. Reuben Clark, Jr.
(1871-1961) First Presidency the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints

Quote courtesy of Jane, (same Jane who named Segullah)

"Make no mistake about it, brothers and sisters, in the months and years ahead, events are likely to require each member to decide whether or not he will follow the First Presidency. Members will find it more difficult to halt longer between two opinions. President Marion G. Romney said, many years ago, that he had 'never hesitated to follow the counsel of the Authorities of the Church even though it crossed my social, professional or political life.' "This is hard doctrine, but it is particularly vital doctrine in a society which is becoming more wicked. In short, brothers and sisters, not being ashamed of the gospel of Jesus Christ includes not being ashamed of the prophets of Jesus Christ. . . . Your discipleship may see the time when such religious convictions are discounted. . . . This new irreligious imperialism seeks to disallow certain opinions simply because those opinions grow out of religious convictions.

"Resistance to abortion will be seen as primitive. Concern over the institution of the family will be viewed as untrendy and unenlightened.... Before the ultimate victory of the forces of righteousness, some skirmishes will be lost. Even in these, however, let us leave a record so that the choices are clear, letting others do as they will in the face of prophetic counsel. There will also be times, happily, when a minor defeat seems probable, but others will step forward, having been rallied to rightness by what we do. We will know the joy, on occasion, of having awakened a slumbering majority of the decent people of all races and creeds which was, till then, unconscious of itself. Jesus said that when the fig trees put forth their leaves, 'summer is nigh.' Thus warned that summer is upon us, let us not then complain of the heat."


Elder Neal A. Maxwell, BYU Devotional 1978

In the name of 'Liberalism'

“The American people will
never knowingly adopt
Socialism, but under the
name of ‘liberalism,’ they
will adopt every fragment
of the Socialist program
until one day America will
be a Socialist nation without
knowing it happened.”
Campaign speech—1948

Norman M. Thomas
(1884-1968) U.S. Socialist Party Leader

My Brothers and Scriptures

I adore my three older brothers.
They can do no wrong.
I think they are handsome, smart, funny.
Glen is funny.
Boyd is smart.
Bryce is handsome.

JUST KIDDING! They are all TRULY all of the above.
This is a long intro to a little post.
What I'm trying to say, is that to a little girl with three older brothers more than nine years older than her--they pretty much become the experts in her life. What they say goes. Why was I devastated to attend Rick's College? Because for years I had heard my brothers say "Ricks is for Hicks who live in the Sticks." When Glen said VW bugs were the best, I knew he was right. When he said Saubs were the best, I again knew it must be true. When he said Hondas the best, OK, and BMW's, of course they are. My love of music started by listening to records at Bryce and Janell's first apartment in the slums of Salt Lake. I learned to love J.T. there and that American Pie song too. When I was really little I discovered the Bay City Rollers in Boyd's room, along with Elton John. I remember staring at those record covers and trying to choose which member of the Bay City Rollers I thought was cutest. I digress--that's another post for another day.
For me, with a very glum heart tonight, what words do I search for in my mind, desperately hoping they'll sooth the hurt?
I find them in the form of scripture from the very simple Christmas card my oldest brother, Glen, sent out years ago. I loved that simple card with these words:

"Who hath believed our report? and to whom is the arm of the Lord revealed?
For he shall grow up before him as a tender plant, and as a root out of a dry ground: he hath no form nor comeliness; and when we shall see him, there is no beauty that we should desire him.
He is despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief: and we hid as it were our faces from him; he was despised, and we esteemed him not.
Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows: yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted.
But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed."

Isaiah 53:1-5.
p.s. Why sad? Someone at that darn Republican meeting hurt my feelings. There were lots of nice things there too, but the one seering hurt makes me cry. Yeah, big fat cry baby.

late october

now the leaves are all gone, but two weeks ago it was this.

Her

While cuddling in bed, as we woke up this morning, L. (5) says to me,
"You are the warmest mom in the commoonity."

An Ode to Sariah

Let me introduce you to my good friend Sariah. She is fabulous! Why you ask?

She is calm.

She talks in a moderately quiet tone.

She never gets uptight.

She gardens.

She cro, how do you spell Crochets?

She cans.

She home schools.

She is a friend to all.

She comes into my kitchen and makes applesauce with my children, while I'm away doing other things.

She is frugal.

She buys lots of clothes at D.I., while still looking like she stepped out of a catalog.

She recovers old furniture and makes it look like it came from Pottery Barn.

She listens.

She understands.

She raises chickens.

When I was prego, and later with new baby she took my children for outings--numerous times. Five children of her own, but she came to get mine too. I let her. That taught me a lot. I wanted to do that for others when I was stronger. Thank you Sariah.

Thank you for being just like someone in a book that I'd wish to know. The best thing is, you aren't in a book--you are here in my real life, and I am so glad.

Visit Sariah's Blog: Sariah's Corner of the World

dizzy with love

Can you say Love?

Can you say can?

Can you say freeze-dry?

I love you, my little man.

Stay the same.

Don't grow up.

You are my baby.

Elder Dallin Oaks on Abortion Legalization

"On this subject our prophetic guidance is clear. The Lord commanded, “Thou shalt not … kill, nor do anything like unto it” (D&C 59:6). The Church opposes elective abortion for personal or social convenience. In today’s world we are not true to our teachings if we are merely pro-choice. We must stand up for the right choice. Those who persist in refusing to think beyond slogans and sound bites like pro-choice wander from the goals they pretend to espouse and wind up giving their support to results they might not support if those results were presented without disguise.

. . .If we say we are anti-abortion in our personal life but pro-choice in public policy, we are saying that we will not use our influence to establish public policies that encourage righteous choices on matters God’s servants have defined as serious sins. I urge Latter-day Saints who have taken that position to ask themselves which other grievous sins should be decriminalized or smiled on by the law due to this theory that persons should not be hampered in their choices. Should we decriminalize or lighten the legal consequences of child abuse? of cruelty to animals? of pollution? of fraud? of fathers who choose to abandon their families for greater freedom or convenience?

Similarly, some reach the pro-choice position by saying we should not legislate morality. Those who take this position should realize that the law of crimes legislates nothing but morality. Should we repeal all laws with a moral basis so that our government will not punish any choices some persons consider immoral? Such an action would wipe out virtually all of the laws against crimes."
http://www.lds.org/
June Ensign 2001
"Weightier Matter" by Dallin Oaks

A Must Read

"This astonishing autobiography tells the gripping, heroic story of the early life of Jacques Lusseyran, an inspiring individual who overcame the limitations of physical blindness by attending -- literally -- to the light within his own mind. Through faith in the connection between vivid inner sight and outer events, he became a leader in the French Resistance and survived the horrors at Buchenwald."

Last night I finished reading this book. It is well worth the read. Would make a great book group read--lots to discuss.

Jacques describes that when negative emotions come into play, he loses abililty to "see" amid his blindness:

"Anger and impatience had the same effect, throwing everything into confusion. The minute before I knew just where everything in the room was, but if I got angry, things got angrier than I. They went and his in the most unlikely corners, mixed themselves up, turned turtle, muttered like crazy men and looked wild. As for me, I no longer knew where to put hand or foot. Everything hurt me. This mechanism worked so well that i became cautious.

When I wa playing with my small companions, if I suddenly grew anxious to win, to be first at all costs, then all at once I could see nothing. Literally I went into a fog or smoke.

I could no longer afford to be jealous or unfriendly, because, as soon as I was, a bandage came down over my eyes, and I was bound hand and foot and cast aside. All at once a black hole opened, and I was helpless inside it. But when I was happy and serene, approached people with confidence and thought well of them, I was rewarded with light. So is it surprising that I loved friendship and harmony when I was very young?

Armed with such a tool, why should I need a moral code? For me this tool took the place of red and green lights. I always knew where the road was open and where it was closed. I had only to look at the bright signal which taught me how to live." (p. 20)

Enough Said. Amen.

"Freedom is easily replaced by benevolent social programs designed to take care of everyone. "
--President Ezra Taft Benson



"We should treat socialistic-communism as the tool of Satan. We should follow the counsel of the President of the Church and resist the influence and policies of the conspiracy wherever they are found in the schools, in the churches, in government, in unions, in business, in agriculture.

We should help those who have been deceived or who are misinformed to find the truth. Unless each person who knows the truth will stand up and speak up, it is difficult for the deceived or confused citizen to find his way back. Thousands of patriotic Americans, including Latter-day Saints, have helped the communists without realizing it. Each priesthood holder should use his influence in the community to resist the erosion which is taking place in our political and economic life. He should see that his party is working to preserve freedom, not destroy it. He should join responsible local groups interested in promoting freedom and free competitive enterprise, in studying political issues, promoting good men in public office and scrutinizing local, state, and federal agencies. He should not wait for the Lord’s servants to give instruction for every detail. In doing these things, a member of the Church is not only making himself an opponent of the adversary, but a proponent of the Lord. May God give us the wisdom to recognize the threat to our freedom and strength to meet this danger. (Pres. Ezra Taft Benson - CR Oct 1961)
No true Latter-day Saint and no true American can be a socialist or a communist, or support programs leading in that direction. (Pres Ezra Taft Benson -
There was a time when the American people roared like lions for liberty, now we bleat like sheep for security. In this land, we have exalted security, comfort, and ease above freedom - in the end, we shall loose them all. ( Pres. Ezra Taft Benson
Though the people support the Government, the government should not support the people.
Our struggle is freedom vs. socialism. The amount of freedom depends on the amount of socialism. America was built on the principles of self-reliance, individual action, voluntary charity, faith in God, and in themselves. Today these principles are not dominant in the lives of the people. Too many Americans believe it is the responsibility of the government to take care of their every need. The government cannot give anything to the people, that it does not first take from the people." (Pres. Ezra Taft Benson

Abortion Survivor

This leaves me speechless.
Talk about a life mission. Some people watch/listen to The Secret each day. I'd choose to listen to this daily for the rest of my life. Watch, and let's just count how many different Sunday School lessons are powerfully contained in this few minutes.

Light Side

So, how many snickers did you eat today?
Maybe Halloween week isn't a good time to start a cleanse.

Sunday at the Schofield's

My beautiful sister, Les, me and my radiant mother, Marlene.
Ezra turned twelve and was ordained a Deacon.
Good food. Fun day with the family.

Going Under

So busy. Too much to do. Too few hours in the day, too few hands.
What will my children remember?
Will it be the happy mother who loves them and is optimistic,
or the grouchy Mrs. Hyde who finds fault with all and falls apart when faced with challenges?
I pray, I hope, I really hope, that somehow they'll remember the first. . .
only time will tell.
Time and memory, be good to me--to us, I pray.

To Glean a Potato Field

And I thought apple-picking was fun--just wait till you glean a potato field. Yesterday evening we went, along with about fifty other members of our ward (church congregation) to a nearby potato field. Beautiful, warm day, if you closed your eyes, you'd think you were at the beach--seagulls--so many. But instead of sand, you have the newly plowed up brown dirt--and the leftover potatoes that the harvester leaves behind. Walking up and down the rows, with our buckets, we gather, making sure not to take any with cuts or splits (they'll rot themselves and any potatoes around them). Lucy was reluctant to start, in her pink sunglasses, unconvinced of the fun involved in picking up potatoes out of the dirt. But, by the time we left she was happily bouncing along from one potato to the next, saying, "this is fun and you're not going to take me away from it!" Lincoln was delighted from the first--dropping every size potato in the bag with great delight, and singing all the while.

My harvesting life is just beginning. What's next? Nothing funner. Maybe I should have married a farmer, but then it probably wouldn't be as fun.

Sunday Night Apple Harvest

Nothing better than picking apples on a clear Sunday night in the dark and snow. Yes, we usually wouldn't be picking on a Sunday, but we procrastinated and the snow came and then found out it may get down to 26 degrees tonight, and apples freeze at 29 degrees. So, we needed to get them off the trees and inside.

Wouldn't have been any other place tonight in the world. Can't quite explain why it's joyous. Something about the lantern light filtering through the trees, the ladders, and the trying to reach the big, red ones just out of reach. It's also something about the fact that our shoes are muddy, that we're breathing and working, something about the fact that our friends raised these apples. Something about putting away in storage for the winter. Something about drying the apples and making apple crisp tomorrow night. Something about feeling just a bit more self-sufficient by the simple act of picking an apple off a tree.

Something about gratitude in realizing how blessed we are to live in a place where our kids can make zucchini boats and float them on the canal, a place where we can pick someone's blackberries and freeze them for the winter, a place where we can salvage a potato field.

Now, for the apple-picking host, Jenny, I share the Robert Frost poem that I referenced:

After Apple-Picking

My long two-pointed ladder's sticking through a tree
Toward heaven still,
And there's a barrel that I didn't fill
Beside it, and there may be two or three
Apples I didn't pick upon some bough.
But I am done with apple-picking now.
Essence of winter sleep is on the night,
The scent of apples: I am drowsing off.
I cannot rub the strangeness from my sight
I got from looking through a pane of glass
I skimmed this morning from the drinking trough
And held against this world of hoary grass.
It melted, and I let it fall and break.
But I was well
Upon my way to sleep before it fell,
And I could tell
What form my dreaming was about to take.
Magnified apples appear and disappear,
Stem end and blossom end,
And every fleck of russet showing clear.
My instep arch not only keeps the ache,
It keeps the pressure of a ladder-round.
I feel the ladder sway as the boughs bend.
And I keep hearing from the cellar bin
The rumbling sound
Of load on load of apples coming in.
For I have had too much
Of apple-picking: I am overtired
Of the great harvest I myself desired.
There were ten thousand thousand fruit to touch,
Cherish in hand, lift down, and not let fall.
For all
That struck the earth,
No matter if not bruised or spiked with stubble,
Went surely to the cider-apple heap
As of no worth.
One can see what will trouble
This sleep of mine, whatever sleep it is.
Were he not gone,
The woodchuck could say whether it's like his
Long sleep, as I describe its coming on,
Or just some human sleep.


Did you make it to the end? Thanks Jenny & Travis!

How many more days?

One morning last week I woke up to whispers of "Mom, today will you get me my pirate patch, and sword. . . will you mom, please?" And almost everyday there are the inquiries, "How many more days 'till Halloween, mom?"

Here's one of the pirates with his pistol ready to fire.

It's in Stores Now

So, one of my friends, Kathy Soper, from our first married ward at BYU put together a bunch of essays and poems about motherhood recently. They are in this lovely book! Guess what? One of my essays about being miserably sick in the beginning of pregnancy is here, and a poem of mine is in there too. I'm just a little excited about this. It's kinda fun to see something you wrote in print in a bound book!

A Last Goodbye to Marie

Last Saturday morning, Marie's son Vern called and told me Marie had passed away that morning. I felt sick to my stomach. Not because she had died, but because my planner has her name written in it almost daily for the last week, and less often the previous week, but I had failed to make the time to drop by and see her one last time. I knew this was coming, but had let a busy week get the best of me.

Seven years ago on a snowy December morning I met Marie Lyda. Mr. Finch and I were looking at houses in this small town in Southern Idaho. Somehow the new blanket of snow that morning made even Taylor Street appear quiet--even charming. I'm a sucker for old houses and the moment I walked into the old Taylor house I could imagine our family living here. I could taste the years before--I had wonder for and curiosity of the people who had lived here so many years before.

I walked up to Marie's front door and knocked. She came to the door and I told her we were looking at the house next door. I asked if she thought the neighborhood was safe. She began to tell of the time years ago when they were having their house painted and the painter broke in and stole her husband's wallet. She cried as she told me she was a widow and how her husband had fallen down the stairs a year or two ago.

I loved Marie almost immediately. She was hard to please in some ways. No one ever trimmed the bushes well enough, everyone charged too much, and the other neighbor's yards were a mess. But amid her complaints, I loved her. I felt that Marie did the best she could. She worked hard, often waking at four or five in the morning to work and clean. She loved her pets, her children, and people she met--her hairdresser, her employers, her preacher, in her own way.

In the five years we lived in the Taylor house, Marie became our very good neighbor and friend. She watched over us--our comings and goings. If the lights were on in the night, Marie knew it and inquired if one of the children was sick. When the lights were on all night long in July, two times, she twice knew that the new babies had been born, first Lucy, then Lincoln two years later. My children's daily home schooling included going to the front porch to get the paper that Marie had brought over, after she'd read it.

I told Marie to come over on Christmas morning, and there she was at 6:00 a.m., knocking on the front door, on a dark cold Christmas morning to see the children's delight at their spoils. She loved my almond bars and almond puffs. I took them to her every fall. And "the" summer that left me almost irrecognizable, Marie brought us a "summer surprise" cake. I stood, reluctantly hiding back from the front door as Mr. Finch took the cake and told Marie I was feeling better.

When we moved that fall, I cried to Marie and told her I wish we weren't leaving. I most desperately didn't want to leave that old house. Maybe I just didn't want to leave the happy times we had there, or the familiarity we had with those walls and floors. Marie tried to comfort me by telling me of the many years ago when she'd moved here to Taylor Street. She hadn't wanted to move either--she hadn't wanted to leave her old house and have what seemed like a huge mortgage at the time. But, now here she'd been there all those years and it had all worked out. I tried to believe our new changes would work out too. We celebrated a few of Marie's birthdays with her. She loved the children, most especially Lucy. Marie joined us in celebration of baby blessings and children's baptisms, even though she did not belong to our faith. Each year she brought the children Halloween, Easter, and Christmas goodies. We always quickly ate her tin of popcorn she brought at Christmas.

The last day we saw Marie was several weeks ago, we were headed to the fair and I did stop that time. Lucy and I went in and saw Marie. She seemed happy. She had been in pain, but the painkillers seemed to be helping. Over the years Marie and I talked of her husband. I told her she'd get to see him and be with him again. I'm happy she's out of pain. I feel confident she'll find a greater peace in the next life than she was able to attain here on earth. I'm sure the Savior loves her much more than I do and that she'd basking in that love and acceptance right now.

Last Saturday I was tearful and kicking myself for not stopping to say goodbye one more time. So, I went to my room, knelt down, and said a hard, concentrated prayer that Marie would receive my message, "I'm sorry I didn't come and say goodbye. I have been thinking of you. I love you, and goodbye. . . for now."

I think she got the message.

A Bit of Both

Recently I asked Mr. Finch if I'm bewitched by our children, or are they really as beautiful, charming, and intelligent as I find them.

He answered, "probably a bit of both."

He's probably right.
I just hope that every mother has these same feelings about her own. Daily, they surprise me with joy.

Rough Draft of Poem--(Tierra, please review)

Hopefully,
thankfully,
admiringly,
we name them:
Dallin, Truman,
Spencer, Henry, Hyrum
occasionally an Ezra sprinkled in,
Jeffrey, Thomas.
Crawling at our feet,
these little boys
turning
to men,
the namesakes of ones grown, gone before.
Our pie in the sky hopes
for our seed--
amid promises of marrow and strength.

We're Off and Away

Yesterday was the first day of our Commonwealth school--the first day of our Key of Liberty class (about the founding and Constitution of the U.S.), and our Shakespeare class.
We had a great time, although as T. (13) says, "Fun is not our goal." But, if it occurs as a bi-product of learning--great! Our building is super. Big open rooms and old, too.

I'll be adding a picture of students signing the "Declaration of Independence," with the quill pen--they really liked that you had to dip it in ink.

You can do it too

I've heard of people doing this, but I've never truly done it until now.

IT is revolutionizing my life. I feel like I am on a deserted island and can actually pause and think and do, without IT interrupting.

I am seriously thinking of making IT a thing of the past. Leaving it detached from my wall and life forever. I am very envious of the pioneers in this regard.

I have unplugged it--the PHONE! Hallelujah!

It began as just a morning thing for our home schooling. We'd unplug the phone early in the morning, and plug it back in at noon. But, the first day was so nice I didn't plug it back in till late afternoon.

Now, please don't think I don't want your call. Your call is different. I don't want to miss you, but the quiet is delicious. No more jumping up from the couch, no more "wait just a sec, guys." No more, "who is it? OK, we better get this one." Delicious.

P.S. Maybe this is why Cjane never answers her phone.

just look at us holding on

Fifteen Years, Mr. Finch!

I love you.

a bit of Dickinson to celebrate the day:

I envy seas whereon he rides,

I envy spokes of wheels

Of chariots that him convey,

I envy speechless hills

this morning

Something in the morning air--
a bit cooler,
a bit fresher,
a bit of fire--
fall.

That girl

Hugging Lu while putting her to bed last night she said,

"I'm lovin' you by the minute, mom."

I'm lovin' her by the minute too.

Bed is King

Not a week goes by that I say to Mr. Finch,

"This bed was the best purchase ever,"
or
"Who invented mattresses, sheets, pillows?"
I'm sure there's a book out there somewhere containing the history of the mattress and bedding--I'd like to find it and read it. And, someday I want to thank the inventor of the pillow and case and the bed and fitted sheet.

Years ago when Mr. Finch and I were younger and thinner and sweeter we were living with our two young children in Vancouver, Washington. Some members of our church congregation were giving away a queen size mattress and would we want it? Yes! I was so happy. It was definately time to move up from the full/double mattress I'd had since I was child. That name size "full" is very misleading. It's a bit lacking when you try to nurse a newborn, host two toddlers and a husband in that small space. I was large with child, expecting our third baby, and wanted a bigger bed. Well, by the time we got home from church someone else in the ward had also shown interest in the queen size bed. So, Mr. Finch, being the generous man he is, insisted the other family take the bed. Mind you they had no small children and no wife large with child.

Me, Lawdy, being the pill that I am threw a fit. I was mad at Mr. Finch for being more generous with others than he was with his wife. So to heat up and later cool down I went for a very fast, dangerous, radio blasting ride around Camas and Washougal--tears rolling and even yelling out loud. Not pretty. I'm not proud of this, but it was.

Later that week we ended up at the Mattress Store. After much testing and inquiry we chose the King mattress. We were at the checkout desk and Mr. Finch was just pullling out the credit card to pay when he hesitated. His forehead was moist and he looked at me--I could see he was sick to his stomach. He was sick about the amount of the purchase. It was our single biggest purchase, besides our home that we'd ever made. The man who had been helping us for two days paused as we all stood there in silence. Mr. Finch reluctantly handed over the Visa. I sighed with relief and a bit of guilt.

We got the bed home and set up. More guilt when we had to buy a new mattress cover, king sheets, comforter and duvet cover. Oh, and don't forget the bedskirt and pillow shams.
At night, we'd kneel and say our prayers on our opposite sides of the bed and could barely touch fingers as we reached across the bed. We'd then crawl into bed and our standing joke became the fact that Mr. Finch would have to pack a lunch to come see me on my side of the bed, it'd take that long. It wasn't as cozy as the "full" bed, but it was heaven to sprawl out in bed, even if a toddler or two happened to be in bed. Nowadays we often wake up with anywhere from two to five children in bed with us. Definately money well spent.

So, not a week goes by that I don't crawl into bed and with sheer comfort and happiness remind Mr. Finch that this mattress was our best purchase so far.

Trains and Retirement Plans

Every night the 10:45 train rolls through town and it sounds like it's running through our backyard. We don't much notice it in the winter, what with the doors being closed and snow to buffer the sound, but in summer, with our bedroom door open it's pretty loud.

It reminds me of Vancouver--yes, heard the train there nightly too--although much more distant. Also heard it slightly at little old Taylor house too, which then reminded me of Vancouver.

Wouldn't it be poetic to go on a train trip across the United States? Well, maybe just a day trip? I'll add that to my retirement list of things to do. So far, I've got:

Go to midwifery school
Go on a humanitarian mission to Africa, (or to some place as exotic sounding)
Sleep in
Go for morning walk with Mr. Finch
Drink a green drink with the aforementioned Mr. Finch
Read the paper (mind you it's NOT the Times News)
Go to the Temple
Go for Evening walk with Mr. Finch
Grow a small flower garden and vegetable garden
Be a classy old lady with grey hair
Wear hats to church, etc.
Love my grandchildren

simple birthdays

H.'s 9th Birthday party today.
Cupcakes (white with white frosting),
Water balloons,
Rootbeer.

Those three requests filled, and he is happy.
Simple.
No invitations. Just called the four friends he requested yesterday morning before church.
They are swinging in the tree swing in their wet suits. The cat is licking the frosting off the deck bench.
I've just eaten my ?# cupcake. (This raw food stuff is great!)

Best Week Ever

This week has been amazing. After a few crazy weeks of too much running around, too many things to do and go to, we decided to stay at home as much as possible this week. No playdates. No soccer. No baseball. No lake. No pool.
Just home, home, home.

It has been amazing. We got the sewing machine out and began a project for L. (11) to sew.
We've accomplished so much, but without feeling rushed or stressed. We've gone out each morning and weeded in the yard for about 30 minutes. Then, we head inside for breakfast. Leisurely. Then we read together--I've been reading The Fields of Home aloud, and we work on our lastest poem to memorize.

Then, lunch, and whatever. Today it was a water fight in the backyard. A little laundry here and there. It's bliss. The children gotten back into the groove of playing, being creative, and reading. I've almost finshed my reading for the Key of Liberty training next week in SLC--The Freedom Factor by Gerald Lund.

My raw food stint is rejuvenating. I am eating almost all raw. I've had much more energy, less fatigue, and less irritability. It feels so good.

A professional radish grower

Want to feel like a successful gardener?
Plant some radishes.
They are such tiny, delicate, little seeds. Who would guess that they'd grow?
Dry tiny bits of nothing--but if you put them in the dirt, give them a bit of water--tada! They grow!

I planted them near the end of May and thought nothing more of them. This is only our second year growing a garden. We dutifully drag ourselves out to clear, rototill, and plant--quite doubtful during the entire process of anything coming from the work. A couple or three weeks later, we are delighted and surprised when small green plants begin to slowly peek above the brown.

The radishes are ready--red, white, and full of spice.

my mom reviews my poem and Country drs wife

So when my mother read the ironing poem she sat there silent, puzzled-like.
Then she asked, "Is it sarcastic?"
"Ah, yeah mom!"
And she proceeded to ask me if I could change it a bit--take out the sarcasm.
Then she told me about a poem she once wrote about ironing and smelling his shirt and thinking about dancing with him.
Different poem, mom.
Change it?
Absolutely not. Poems have this ability to give us a snippet in time--albeit inperfect.
It's actually my favorite poem to date.


Need a laugh?
Have you checked out Country Doctor's Wife post with her own photo shoot (Grey Garden's Style) with her sister? You must. www.countrydoctor'swife.blogspot.com

raw

Roxanne reminded me the other day that I do not post two times a week. So, I've been checking my dates and she's very correct. I hardly post twice a month.
Well, here's what I've been up to:
Juicing and vitamixing. Reading about green smoothies and watching RAW Food videos on internet. Very inspiring. Very revitalizing.
Just now enjoying a cucumber, celery, spinach, orange juice concoction. Very yummy.
Join me.

Want more info? Google RAW Food Diet, or David Wolfe.

One of her observations

Last week L. (4) said to me,

"Mom, I looooove Christmas, don't you?"

Me, "Yes L., I love Christmas too."

"I love it too when it's sunny out, and windy, and there are lots of clouds. Sometimes I think it's magic, but then I know that it's Jesus."

2nd draft (much better than first)

Evidence of doing
is a nicely ironed shirt.
Inside the mind
a hurricane spinning
but a nicely ironed shirt is evidence.
Evidence of sanely order.
Evidence of accomplishment
from 7a.m.-6p.m.
Evidence of smooth fabric.
Evidence of hot metal.
Evidence of pressure.
Evidence of moisture.

Ladies learn this lesson,
and learn this lesson well:
Keep a stockpile nice of starchy shirts. . .
for evidence of your worth.

ironing rough draft

Some bits and pieces of poems that are floating around in my brain:

Cali get away
honey butter babies
sun-kissed skin


Ironing

Can't fix the cracks in the driveway,
but I can iron the wrinkles out of my husband's shirts.
In the past I've been known for my dislike of ironing.
Mr. Finch does the ironing.
But, recently I've found a bit of peace in the manual, mindlessness of ironing.
When there are hurricanes in my minds and emotions,
When it seems we are all utterly lost to the randomness of life,
nothing brings me stillness like holding firmly and pressing.
Pressing down on the board--the shirt---the steam, the spray,
hmmmm, pressing out the wrinkles. Something to show.
Could have wasted the whole day with regrets,
but darnit, here's five ironed shirts to show.
Five ironed shirts.
A week's worth, minus Sunday.
Happy, Mr. Finch?

Irritated

What I'm pleased about:

green things (leaves, grass, buds, trees)
freshly painted grey deck
edged yard


What I'm NOT pleased about:

cat waste products on grass, continually
flies in the house
twenty spiders in the house (in one day)
weeds
more weeds


I'll stop now.
Happy Spring.

Why? I'll tell you why!

So here's Scout asking Atticus if they'll win the Tom Robinson case. Atticus replies no. So why are you defending him she asks. He answers:

Simply because we were licked a hundred years before we started is no reason for us not to try to win.

To Kill a Mockingbird, Harper Lee, p.87

Mourning Doves

Mourning doves are cooing,
we are happ'ly wooing.
The ebb and flow of marriage
ain't it grand?

Making Peace With Maintenance

Owning an old house is like Giving a Mouse a Cookie. One thing is constantly leading to another. This project, then that, and then this breaks. Maintenance. I guess it's not just old houses--maybe just owning a house in general takes constant upkeep.

I often fight off being overwhelmed by all there is to do and the lack of perfection. The weeds in the flowerbeds. The fence needs painting. The house needs painting. The deck needs painting. The trees need pruning. The windows are dusty again. But I try to push those feelings down and see the good amid the bad--if I don't I'll go insane. Seriously.

Heaven must be perfect. Often I wonder how though? I guess just having the man power, the right tools, the know how, and the resources. So, how can we do that now? I just don't think it's realistic at this point. We try. Oh, man do we try. We work and work and work some more. But there's got to be some sort of peace made with our inability to ever be "done." How is that achieved?

best parts of the day

The best parts of today:

cleaning the grill and house

Tman's "friend" party

trees by driveway blooming

Sanding the Deck

Sanded the deck today.

Rented a large sander. My left hand now has three large blisters and is in permanent claw shape.

Also distributed the rest of the second yard of barkdust around the yard.

Tired. So tired.

Often I wonder if God wants us to spend so much time on maintenance of things. Sometimes wonder if we should have less to maintain.

Finished reading Mary Emma and Company to the children. It may just be in my top three favorite books. I adore Mary Emma and aspire to be like her. I find myself saying, "Oh my, what a lovely. . ." or "oh, my aren't we fortunate." It's the best book on parenting. The kids loved it again. I think this is our 2nd, maybe 3rd time reading it.

We're considering raising berries for a business. Work for the kids, money for clothes, missions, and college. We are considering. And while we are considering, late one night a title for a book floated into my train of thought. Here it is: can't remember it now. It was so good though! Something about reflections of a berry farmer and mother. Better than that, though.

Goodnight.

Another big hit

Last week I wrote another song. It goes a little something like this:

"Why would anybody ever vote for Obama?"

and the second verse:

"Why would anybody ever vote for Hilary?"

Once again a very catchy tune. If you are voting for them, I respect you and I'm glad you're voting.

Oh, by the way, I could easily add a third verse:

"Why would anybody ever vote for McCain?"

So, who do you think I'm voting for? And with a very happy conscience?

Last night while putting her to bed

"You're a full grown mama, ain't you mom?"
Lucy (4)

"Mom, why does everybody in heaven wear flip flops?"

Lucy (4)

Locker combos and Choir

Last night I was wandering BYU campus all night--I had apparently lost my leather backpack, and it had my class schedule in it--so I didn't know where to go. I kept wandering back over the places I'd been hoping it'd turn up, but with no luck.

Along the way I saw a bunch of old friends--Joanna, Shari, Tiffani, and a lot of old Academy for Girl counselors--Biz, Pepper, and others. That part was fun, but not knowing where to go was not fun.

The other reocurring dream I have--actually a nightmare of sorts--is that I'm in High School and it's either one of these two scenarios. First, that my class schedule is in my locker, and I have no idea where to go, and I have no idea what my locker combination is. Second, I find out that I've been signed up for choir all semester, but have never attended! It is maddening! So, to all five of my readers, I ask you what are your reoccurring dreams/nightmares?

Another

At Home

by Joy Berry-Parks

Eating oranges with you is amazing.
Worth the cessation of the interminable laundry folding,
And infinately rewarding, in contrast.
Five minutes with you, like this
In a parenthetical event
(Unplanned but persuasive in its simplicity)
Makes this life, these choices,
These three years, so far, with you
An epiphany.

The brilliance of this moment, in fact,
Throws into shadow the tears (yours and mine),
The exhaustion, the endemic clutter,
The condescending smiles at my occupation,
Even the heretofore glaringly obvious dearth of spending money.
You are oblivious to such miracles, of course.
Thoroughly juiced, you sit cross-legged,
Absorbed in your third orange.
This is sweet! you say, overcome.

I know, I know--
I have tasted these years fully.

a favorite

To Marion--In Answer to your Request

By Kay Cook

You want a poem.
But I tell you this mothering business is a poem
It'd damn well better be,
or we're all in trouble.

To live a poem makes it hard to write a poem.
Frankly, Marion, my writing has fallen to pieces.
Cobwebs trap the metaphors in my sleep-starved mind.
Half-conceived similes sputter, like deflating balloons,
and images dissolve in the warmth
Of my foamy day's-end bath.

Could I sing you a verse of "You Are My Sunshine" instead?
Have you heard "Down in the Valley" lately?
"Ragtime Cowboy Joe"?

Tell you what, Marion--
We don't write poetry much anymore
But do we sing?
Mother, do we sing!

Doing Less

Mothers Who Know Do Less

Mothers who know do less. They permit less of what will not bear good fruit eternally. They allow less media in their homes, less distraction, less activity that draws their children away from their home. Mothers who know are willing to live on less and consume less of the world's goods in order to spend more time with their children--more time eating together, more time working together, more time reading together, more time talking, laughing, singing, and exemplifying. These mothers choose carefully and do not try to choose it all.

--Julie B. Beck

So many things I read make me feel like I need to do more--but this one makes me feel lighter and happier--free to say no more to many things, while at the same time saying yes to many others.

Review

Today is my birthday.
I am 35.
I am happy to be alive.
I have five healthy children,
and a wonderful Mr. Finch.
I love my Savior
and want to be more like him.
I am sad when I hurt other's feelings.
I want to give my children happy memories.
I'm enjoying today
and looking forward to tomorrow.
I'm happy that we have some order around here,
and hope to be more organized in the future.
I've read and learned a lot the last few years,
and will study more in the next five years.
I'm grateful for family, friends, and the Gospel.
Happy Birthday to me.

One of my old poems

It's not polite to laugh at your own jokes, but I wrote this poem years ago and always got a good laugh from it. It's a parody of that other one we've all heard so much.

Don't walk in front of me,
I may step on your heels.
Don't walk behind me,
You may trip me.
Just walk beside me
and keep your distance.

You come too?

It's rainy around here. I'm a bit glum, but a Frost poem always soothes the soul. I really want to have lunch with Robert in the next life.


The Pasture

I'm going out to clean the pasture spring;
I'll only stop to rake the leaves away
(And wait to watch the water clear, I may):
I sha'n't be gone long.--You come too.

I'm going out to fetch the little calf
That's standing by the mother. It's so young
It totters when she licks it with her tongue.
I sha'n't be gone long.--You come too.

Virtue and the Constitution

One night a month we meet in our livingroom with some friends and study the U.S. Constitution. We are learning a lot. We study two books, both by Cleon Skousen. First, The Five Thousand Year Leap, focuses on the philosophy behind the Constitution, while the second, The Making of America focuses on the nuts and bolts of the Constitution. The study guide we use is already put together for us--any person, family, or group can use it too. It's from the NCCS--the National Center for Constitutional Studies. www.nccs.net

So far what stands out to me is the intellect and virtue of our founding fathers. No, they were by no means perfect, but they were highly educated and had a sense of public virtue--a feeling of responsibility to make personal sacrifices to serve for the good of the country.

Virtue has to be earned and it has to be learned. Neither is virtue a permanent quality in human nature. It has to be cultivated continually and exercised from hour to hour and from day to day.
--Skousen, The Five Thousand Year Leap. p.54.

Yes, I love how he puts that. Virtue has to be earned and learned. It takes work and effort from hour to hour! Virtue encompasses our deepest feelings and our smallest actions. It is manifested in our feelings towards others--seeing them as equal, worthwhile individuals or seeing them as objects or vehicles to get us where or what we desire.

But How?
Virtue can be developed--even if we no more than want to develop it but don't know how. Even if we do not feel the strength of an ant within us. Even if all we can do is utter a tiny prayer of "help"--providence will answer and send particle by tiny particle, strength to our being. How do I know? Because I've experienced it and am currently experiencing the gracious and generous help of that Divine providence.

Green Drinks

After five years of wanting one,
a Vitamix now sits on our kitchen counter!

It's fabulous. We use it at least three times a day.
My favorite green drink:

a few pieces of frozen peaches
one kale leaf
a handful of parsley
a small pour of O.J.
half an orange
half or more cup water
few pieces of ice

Mix and enjoy!
It's fresh and lite--this makes about 16 ounces and fills you up.

You can just take any fruit or veggie you have and mix it up, add some ice and water and it's usually yummy.

Babies vs. Mr. Finch

So, our youngest is only two and already I am worrying about what I'll do when there are no more babies in the house. No more fat cheeks, sweet morning breath, and darling little voices and expressions. "Mr. Finch," I say, "what am I gonna do without babies to love on?" He tells me there will be grandbabies to love on. But grandbabies may live far away, and visits may be infrequent, so I keep coming to the same conclusion. . . I'll just have to love on Mr. Finch more.

Maybe He Was

At the forum we picked up Andrew Pudewa's Linguistic Development through Poetry Memorization program that I've been wanting for a couple years.

Lucy learned the first poem on Tuesday morning. I'll share it with you.

Ooey Gooey (Author Unknown)

Ooey Gooey was a worm,
A mighty worm was he.
He stepped upon the railroad tracks,
The train he did not see!
Ooooey Goooey!


We were all reciting it all day. In the late afternoon Lucy said,

"Mom. . . mom! Maybe Ooey Gooey was blind."

This years Thomas Jefferson Education Forum

This year's forum was the best I've attended! How far we've come in the last few years. I remember maybe four years ago attending the afternoon forum in a small gymnasium--it was an electric two hours, but look now at all the groups mushrooming off or under the umbrella of Thomas Jefferson Education. Now, actually for the past three years, it's held in the Hilton Hotel in downtown SLC. It's inspiring to be there and feel a part of a large group of so many people who share the same culture--of education and family.

A very short run down of the classes I attended and their highlights:
_______________________________________________

Keynote speaker: Oliver Demille

The tragedy of our time--entertainment mentality
How do we spend our free time? Do we escape to entertainment, or do we spend time working at art, creative channels, or in the classics? Where a society spends it's free time tells where it's heading.

On average, our society spends four hours a day on entertainment. That equates into another salary, a great education, a small business. . . many possibilities.

Tribal Culture and National Culture--both have good and bad and to succeed we need to combine the two. How? Must be able to speak each others language.

What kind of Grandparent do I want to be? In Tribal culture the grandparents are revered.

Ask Yourself: What do you need to do to get a great education?

What do you need to do to get outside your comfort zone?
Get mentor? Take a class? Start a business? Spend time with your kids? Work on your marriage? Do your scholar phase?

Whatever it is--DO IT! Let nothing stand in your way! Don't be willing to settle for mediocrity.
________________________________________
Second Class: Feeding your Family by Kim Simmerman

Wow! I loved it! Seek for personal revelation.

Each a.m. set out a tray of cut up easy access veggies or fruit for the family. (I have been and it's working great, and I have to replenish it throughout the day.)

Fabulous smoothies with greens and fruit--almost any combo works. Good in a.m. too.

Kim does seminars in her home teaching more about feeding your family--can't wait to attend.
_______________________________________________
Jesse Meekes --Mentoring for Dads

FABULOUS! Mr. Meekes was inspiring in and of himself because he literally glows with goodness and enthusiasm. He exudes virtue. Poor Mr. Finch was leaking throughout this entire class and we were both utterly inspired.

14-18 best and virtually only time for most to receive a true liberal arts education--a great scholar phase.This is the time for them to do it. We can make an impact--have to learn how to help give them this education.

The tools matter--especially when the youth has heart.

Student Accountability Reports--setting goals and writing them down with youth and reporting.

A pure angel of a girl gave a speech that needs to be posted on internet. Talk about "The Secret"--I'll listen to her speech each morning as I hear some do with the Secret. She was amazing. And how did she write the speech? She got the classics "in" her and then wrote her speech. Carpe Diem!

We need to mentor our children with intensity--like the video clip of the father who runs races and tri's with his son who is in a wheelchair.

If your son or daughter is not inspired--ask yourself:

Am I reading?
Am I writing?
Can I discuss?
Do they see me mentally sweat?

"I'd reather see a sermon than hear one anyday."
______________________________________________
Angela Baker

As always simply inspiring. My second time hearing this class, so was a good review for me.


Connect with your children.

Angie was doing dishes, her son wants her to read with him or play or something. She sees that he's occupied so she's tempted to keep cleaning. Spirit whispers, "If you keep putting him off, he'll tire of it, and go find someone else." If we feel distracted, we probably aren't doing the right thing at the right time.

Get Book: Surrendering to Motherhood by ?

IT MATTERS WHERE MOM IS!
______________________________________________
Heather Burton

Did I say how Amazing this class was?

We can be mothers and stateswomen. We can, but we need to have:

Accurate View--what we can do and when
Learning Befitting our personal missions
Love that Lasts

Get in touch with God by Living in your central classic every single day!
Benson Quote: When we put God first, all over things fall into their proper place, or drop out of our lives. The love of the Lord will govern. . . ?actions, etc. the claimes on our time.

A.M. Drop on knees and Beg for his help.

Virtue is the alignment with truth/God

Virtue is our source of influence/strength (Without Virtue we are nothing!)

I lose my power when I do what I know is wrong.

VIRTUE is the way you will make a difference in the world!

HONOR the promptings of your soul

Start your education with an allegiance to God--honoring a Sabbath.

Do we see people as objects, or as equals. Are we responsive to others or do we see them as vehicles to get what we want?

When it's not working at home--drop all else and do what you know works for your family.
Ex: reading, baking, cuddling, praying

We choose our temptations.

Don't let anyone put you on a pedastal--you'll fall off. Don't get "happy with yourself"--avoid pride.
____________________________________________
Tiffany Earle

First time hearing her speak--she is humble. . .down to earth
"The great Arcanum (secret) in education consists in framing self-denial and mastership of the passions, without weakening the vigor or activity of the mind."
George Turnbull

Small things in mentoring help the child move from one step to the next. Small acts of help. Something so simple, done in a loving way. Tell them why you do what you do--give them a vested interest in your personal mission.

Why mentor? To fulfill your personal mission.

Homesteader vs. Squatter--Hardwork.

LAW of the WALL: when we hit the wall, what do we do?

1. quite?
2. settle for mediocrity?
3. Get on Knees? Ask the right questions and then listen--that is the path of success!

Well done Peter!

Well! Guess what?! You know that "woman who's a bunny?"
She had babies! We are all bursting our buttons around here with pride for the sweet little mama of the house. We didn't even know she was expecting. Lili says she knew all along, but I think she was just hoping. Peter, the dark and handsome father has not been seen for more than two weeks. We sadly think he is deceased, thus Lili has decided to name one of the babes Peter, Jr. in memory of the fine papa. Only a few short minutes with Mopsy, and he has some beautiful offspring here. Who would've guessed it?

I had no idea how much joy babies in the house would be--I'm not kidding. Nearly as good as a human baby! Imagine our surprise Sunday afternoon, we'd been home from church for a couple hours when Henry yells, "Mom, mom--there's babies in with Mopsy!" Mops made the babies a sweet little nest that night. Did you know bunnies only nurse their babies once a day? Yeah, and they make the nest by taking a bunch of their tummy fur off and surround the babies with it.

Just Show Up

I don't know who said it, but it's something like this:

Showing up is more than half the job.

So, amid worries that halt beginnings, or fear of failure, I take great comfort in the thought that if I just show up the task will be almost accomplished.

It's true of so many things, but lately I am realizing how it pertains to motherhood. It's very easy to slide into the mode of running around doing errands, working out, etc, etc, and being away from home more and more. Even if the children are with me in the car, it's not the same. There is something--something crucially valuable in the patterns and rhythm of day to day home life. The puttering. The waking. The wiping. Wiping counters. Wiping floors. Wiping bottoms. Wiping noses. The sweeping. Making toast. Making more toast. Wiping more. These small actions weigh in somehow to order and discipline. In my life, and in the lives of my children.

I remember going home after kindergarten, with Kara to Grandma and Grandpa Newman's. I remember quiet lunches. Everyone at the table. Grandpa, because he farmed and was home. Hot lunches, not just sandwiches. Milk to drink. Quiet order. Manners.

Where has this gone? We try, but too often lunch is toddlers sitting on the table knocking food off and laughing their heads off saying "bad" words such as "bum, bum, toot, toot"--words my older children didn't hear till they were older, but which the younger bunch gets great reactions with.

Nonetheless, I am home today. We are home today. Spring is still sound asleep, but with a breeze today and warmer temps she must be waking sometime soon. Everyone's outside and off I go to join them amid the piles of rabbit droppings that decorate our entire yard like confetti.

Election Year

"I think we should just let God be the President of everything."

--Cael Harris (4 years old)

important dialogue

Hennessee Hank (8) to Mopsy, our pet rabbit, "Put your paws up like a man!"

Mom ("say what your age is mom") (34), "She's not a man."

Lucy (4), "She's a woman who's a bunny."

For Your Booklist

Add this to your list--your library or Barnes & Noble list. It's a must read or listen to.
We've been listening to it around here and find it unique and interesting.

My Grandfather's Son by Clarence Thomas

Clarence Thomas is Associate Justice of the Supreme Court.

The recording is read by the author.

Go get it!

Sunday night news

In 1985, I was twelve years old and in the downstairs family room of our house in Olympus Cove. I think what makes it most memorable was dad sitting cross legged in front of the TV with rapt attention and tears rolling down his cheeks. I rarely remember him sitting like that-- he had to be close to the TV. The tears were more frequent. Just us two on a Saturday afternoon watching the funeral procession of President Spencer W. Kimball.

Sunday night we got a call from mom asking "if we'd heard about President Hinckley?"
Oh, how we'll miss you, President Hinckley! You and your knighting President Eyring.

Good Sunbeam Teacher

Today over breakfast, Lucy (4) says,

"Mom, what will my name be when I grow up?"

"Lucy," I answer.

"Oh, the same," she answers with a smile and adds,

"Mom, Sister Butler says when I grow up I'll still be a child of God."

An offering

The Gift

What shall I give him,
as poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd,
I'd give him my lamb.
If I were a wise man,
I'd do my part.
What shall I give him?
I'll give him my heart.

by Christina Rossetti

Try singing the above words to "Come Follow Me," it turns out perfectly!

Faraway Dreams

Just woke up from an adventurous and long Sunday nap. What a sweet and restful tradition that is. Often now in my dreams I am in strange lands. Sometimes running through old paved streets at night (definately Jerusalem), sometimes being pursued, but most often walking, as a colorful scarf on a roadside shop catches my eye and I am often asking, "How much? How much?" In these dreams wonderful people watching abounds.

(I guess I'm not quite cured of consumerism.)

Warning: Negative Venting Post or I think i'm progressing

Am I the only one who is deathly tired of consumerism?

Can I say how tired I am of blogs and advertisements showing this cute new thing or that new creative gift?! I really think it's a good sign. Maybe it's progress for me, because I have lost my desire to go to this site or that to see the gorgeous new thing I must have to be "enough." I am enough already! I'm really not interested in even seeing how your cousin's wife decorates her children's rooms--I really don't care. Ha! How fantastic is that! DesignMom, as cute as your finds are, they tire me. Can't we talk about ideas now instead of things? Cute this, darling that, stylish this, yada, yada, yada. Let's all go to hell in a handbasket, be it (the handbasket) ever so stylish!

Can I tell you how liberating it is to wittle Christmas down to the bare essentials? Mr. Finch does not think this is rocket science, but I must say that the day I woke up and said to myself, "I don't have to send Christmas cards this year, I can if I want to, but I don't have to," was a very memorable day and I felt that I needed to write a book enlightening others too.

What's more, (you might want to take notes here), is that you don't have to give a gift to someone simply because they give one to you. They are giving you a gift because they want to share the love or show gratitude, not because they want you to give them a gift. No one is keeping score. So, we can keep our giving sincere.

To enjoy this season, simply follow this plan:

1. Wipe your slate clean--no more "to do's"

2. Start fresh with "Who do you really want to share with, give love to, or show gratitude?"

3. What do you really want to do this Christmas?

4. Do the above, with joy and simplicity!

5. Christmas comes regardless of the cards we do or don't send

Israel

There are not words, but I will try. Israel exceeded all of our expectations. For myself, I was worried that I wouldn't know enough to feel the significance of all we saw. I was worried that I might not be able to truly "feel" the place. No worries. It was amazing!

What did I love?

I loved seeing the hasidic Jews, the Palestinians, the green, and the desert. Israel, I thought was all barren land--not so! Most of it, or a good part of it is lush farm land. Palm trees abound, as do the strayest, mangiest cats you've ever seen. I loved the balmy air--no dry skin, itchy eyes or scalp there--the air just soothes the body. Brutal coming back to the dryness here.

We observed that the Palestinians seemed to be the most friendly. Does that correlate to the fact that they are also the most humble?

I admired so much the modesty. The women, be they Jews or Muslims are covered from head to foot. And never, never have I seen such beautiful women. Their head wraps start at the top and they wear long coats that go to their ankles. So much black fabric, but accented by colorful head wraps. Even the billboards had a level of modesty that was pleasing.

I also admired the devotion. Can't we turn it up a notch people? Yes, I am speaking for myself here. The devotion in dress. The devotion on the Sabbath. Yes, the elevator stopped on every floor on the Sabbath so that they would not have to push the button. Then, there was the devotion of the Muslims prayers. Five times a day they pray. Several times at evening we'd be rushing to get in one last sight and as dusk fell we'd hear the beautiful calls to prayer all over the valley and hillsides. Can't we have a call to prayer? I know we do, but couldn't we have one daily outside or something? Can't we wear hats or something to show our devotion. I know, I know it's our lives that are our trademark. Possibly I'm just not living it enough to feel that my life can stand alone as a sign of my "constant devotion to God" as Tevyah puts it.

To see the land where Christ was born, lived, performed miracles, and died, suffering for me and you helped to imagine more what it would have been like. The major discovery for me was that Christ was laid in a manger. But hark--no more Popsicle stick mangers in nursery or sunbeams! Mangers were stone. Gray or cream colored stone. Beautiful symbols of the Rock being laid in the rock of a manger, and then after death being laid in a rock--the rock of the tomb. He is the Rock.

Food. Ate the most delicious Felafel's there the last day, from a local spot in Jerusalem--they add fried potatoes to the pita bread too.

Guides. It would have not been as powerful without our two guides. George Masters, retired institute and seminary teacher from Utah was a walking Old Testament and so much more. He and his sweet wife are some of the humblest, loving people we've ever observed. Second, Aladdin, our Palestinian, although Israeli citizen guide was so much fun! We got to meet his three darling boys and his sweet wife. On the third of fourth day there we were visiting a site that was exceptionally beautiful. I asked Aladdin what people thought the prettiest place in Israel was. He looked at me and said, "What are you talking about? You think we have a pretty scale? You Mormons are not to be drinking!" I laughed so hard.

Best memory--walking as fast as we could throughout the Old city of Jerusalem at 10:00 p.m. and seeing families coming to and fro Hanukkah parties.

Jerusalem, Jerusalem!

Can't we crank it up a notch?

Thanksgiving at the Schofields

Thanksgiving at Schofields was lovely. Beyond lovely. Straight out of a magazine. If you think you're skinny--spend a day with my sister. If you think your home is decorated lovely, spend a day at my sister's house. If you think you run fast, go for a run with my sister. If you think your sister is cool, spend a day with my sister's sister.

I'm thankful for a sister who takes me shopping and makes me continue onward when I have had enough of trying on jeans. Who fits into these styles!? Finally, when I was sure I'd find nothing to wear on our trip, we had some luck in the "Grandma shop," (Coldwater Creek). For some reason those "hip-py" grandma styles always work for me.

So, next week we are off to "the place where Jesus was born," as Luann puts it so nicely. She melts my heart when she offhandedly says, "Mama, I'm gonna miss you when you go to that place where Jesus was born."

My Own Private Zion

Stake Conference on Saturday night was exceptional. President A., as a side note, said something to the effect that all pure, healthy relationships can continue in the next life. It reminded me of the saying that Angie gave me. Her definition of heaven is living on the same street with her best friends. I may have slaughtered that--but it was something to that effect. It is a bitter pill when you want a friendship to continue and the association is haulted by a move or other circumstances.

President M. inspired with the phrase "is my faith enough to make myself and my children whole?" Are our lives and hearts the stuff which will sustain our children, and ourselves through this life?

Pres. B or M., maybe both made reference to each of us having our zions made up of those we associate with and love.

Happy Halloween!

We've had a lovely, sunny, and productive Halloween morning.

Dropped Luann off for school.

Hennessee Hank got busy with his brick and morter set, building a house--took most of the morning. Didn't do his "book work" as he insisted today was a holiday and he'd have a break.

Truthman practiced the piano for an hour, did math, spelling, folded a load of laundry, read three National Geographic articles, helped mom sweep and tidy garage, read chapter of Pride and Prejudice.

Lu colored and cut out more "tickets." She says she is a "ticket girl."

Linc did a little of this and a little of that, and then took a nap.

Mom took Lu for a bike ride, drank green drink, got ready, cleaned a bit, read to Linc.

For tonight we have two cowboys, Darth Vadar, a pirate, a psychologist, and two sticks-in-the-mud.

Lone and Dreary No Longer

Six years ago, when we moved from Vancouver to Idaho, I knew this surely was the official lone and dreary world--the desert like a dust bowl in summer and the lack of trees. But, I have to tell you that for the last month or two, I've found this place to be downright beautiful. Driving into town has become a treat. Seeing the fields, the windrows, the changing colors--it really is beauty. I actually feel blessed to live here.

Last night I mentioned to Mr. Finch that just standing in our backyard you'd think you were in New York. OK, not really that much, but the bright yellow trees are lovely! Being content and grateful--both are peaceful feelings that I appreciate.

Harvest

Windrow upon windrow
winding away. . .
beautiful place
of hearth and grain.

Maybe I'll tell someone

You know that crazy question about a tree falling in the forest? If there's no one around, does it make a sound? Well--of course it does.

It kind of reminds me of having a blog, but not telling anyone about it. So--I'm easing into this and have only told two dearest, sweetest friends about my blog. If I tell anyone else I run the risk of feeling utterly naked. But, what's the use of having a blog if you don't share it?

CJane sure bares it all on her blog, no? That's what makes it so great. I also enjoy Confessions of a Pioneer Woman, Design Mom, and Kerflop. I am trying to keep blogging to a minimum, but it is a spark of entertainment in a day.

You and Your funky earrings, man reprise II

Since Mr. Finch and I were married fourteen years ago we've been making music. No, literally, we've been writing songs. Our first golden oldie was written the first year we were married. It goes a little something like this:
(I'll see if I can get Mr. Finch to make a sound recording for this)

"You and your funky earrings man, man alive!"

That's it. It's simple, but really catches on. I mean you get the tune in your mind and it never leaves you. I don't know the origin of the song, I think Mr. Finch was trying to compliment my dangling earrings, but I can't be sure.

Another golden oldie dates all the way back to my younger years. I just remembered it. My beautiful older sister and I (we were both ten years old or less) were babysitting our new baby nephew Macchewee for a week in Provo. We made up this in the honor of Macchew:

"Who's that knockin at the window?
Who's that singing at the door?
It's Matthew!
Matthew!
Could you run that by me once more?"

. . .and thus you sing that one verse over and over and over.

Mr. Finch and I have written several--but I can't seem to recall any others at the moment. Mr. Finch, can you help me remember any more?

Fall is here

Fall is here and it is delightful. The air feels crisp and clean again and the bees, wasps, and hornets seem to be gone. Where have they gone? Why can't they stay there? I sincerely hope that next summer will not bring so many of these terrible pests which afflict and torment us. We've had nests in the driveway, under the front porch step, in the swingset, above the kitchen window, and now a doozy of a nest on the left top side of the house, outside.

I had to turn on the heat this morning. What will we do here at home without Truthman to build our fires and bring in the wood? He is at his third day of school. I guess Hank and I will have to fend for ourselves. I love these grey dreary days--they remind me of Vancouver.

My bones are aching. Do I not get enough calcium? I'm surprised that I am still suffering from my marathon training which was almost a year ago. I have started taking a calcium supplement. No matter that it expired three years ago--(I'm not really sure), but I do think it's outdated.

There is a chance that Janice may get into the same school that Tman is at. This would be a good thing, we think, and so we say an extra prayer.

We've been watching old home videos from the past sixteen years. What a treasure it is to be able to see things as they once were. Sweet, fat babies intermixed with music, singing, dancing, and many worthwhile activities such as: pie making, pumpkin carving, and others.

T.man and I are going to hear Oliver Demille at the Face to Face math seminar this weekend. We are so looking forward to this. We are certified Demille groupies and will thoroughly enjoy the TJed culture and will also analyze it.
Happy Autumn!

Stinging rebuke

From a beautiful book, not just for little girls, but all of us grown up girls masquerading as adults.
Beautiful Girlhood by Karen Andreola (originally by M. Hale)

Chapter 32, entitled A Few Faults Discussed, p.197

"There are none among us who can truthfully boast of faultlessness. I wish to speak particularly now to those who are earnestly endeavoring to live a Christian life. Such girls will have seasons of inward searchings and examinations that will bring them face to face with their own shortcomings and weaknesses. What shall they do with them?

There is the fault of irresolution or indecision. A person, to be of strong character, must be able to make up her mind, to make decisions and to stand by those decisions in the face of hindrances and opposition. She who is indecisive is not sure of herself. She is ever going back to see whether or not she made a mistake in her decision. We have read of the character in Pilgrim's Progress who saw lions in the way, and was not strong enought to march up to them. They who did face their lions found them bound so that they could not reach the path. But she who is indecisive never gets that far.

The girl who has acquired this habit of halting between opinions, of never making up her mind on anything, needs to take herself in hand sternly, look problems in the face, march right out to meet them, and fight her own battles through. To the one who is determined to win, victory will come.

. . . .Another fault is an inordinate love for pretty things. I say "inordinate," for there is a proper appreciation for those things that are beautiful that is allowable in every one. But she who has too great a love for these things sets great value upon their possession. . .The girl becomes dissatisfied with the home and surroundings as she finds them, developing a deep dislike for what should be dear to her, all because they do not meet her ideal of beauty.

Such a girl needs to learn to look well to the good that is about her. Where love is, real beauty can be found. There is nothing more beautiful that a happy, satisfied heart. If your love for pretty things so fills your heart that you cannot see the good that loving hands and hearts would bring to you, then you need to give serious attention to that which is obstructing your vision.

There is a spirit of discontent that makes the girl restless and uneasy. Now, I would not have you fully satisfied with things just as they are, so that you do not strive to improve; but that dissatisfaction that keeps a girl fretting about her fate spoils her happiness now and unfits her to appreciate what may be in the future."

dear reader,

if you're still with me, and if you know a cent of the editor, you'll know this is a perfect description of the saids deficiencies. Hopefully, said editor will take this to heart and through grace be able to mend the torn habits of the past.

To satisfy baby hunger

There's something about babies. Any kind, really. This summer it's been bunnies and kitties for us here at the Whitney Conservatory. They really do help satisfy my baby hunger.

Mr. Finch came home one day earlier this summer and saw Lucy lovingly smashing bunny Mopsy in a rapturous hug. Mr. Finch seeing my divine satisfaction said, "and you think that's healthy?"

One they rejected

How could the Reader's Digest not respond to this one?
Lilian, age three steps on the scale one morning as I'm getting ready and asks,
"Mommy, how much do I cost?"

A Letter to the Reader

Dear Reader,

I can no longer resist the urge to begin a blog. Why? To record the happenings of the day. To make a record of the babies, young and old, fat and skinny. To muse. To share with you all the houses I've loved before. To share a poem, or submissions that the Reader's Digest wouldn't accept. How could they not find my submissions amusing? The wonderful thing about a blog is that oftentimes the author is also the editor in chief, thus all submissions may be accepted happily.

Reader, please tread lightly here. Please, no weirdos allowed. And, please take off your shoes before entering. No need to be critical of my writing, grammar, or introspection--is there? Just exit quietly if you don't like it, OK? Good.

Now off to the races.

Sincerely,

Lawdy