Christmas at Lawry's

Ryan and I had a nice dinner out last night. I was thinking it could be our last one for awhile! I was also thinking about a family tradition we had growing up.

Every year at Christmas time we had dinner at Lawry's. For the holidays, the restaurant hired "carolers" to sing to the patrons during their meals. The carolers dressed in Charles Dickens-like attire and were always very talented. We usually spent the first part of dinner trying to decide what requests we would make when they got to our table and almost never settled on just one. Luckily they indulged us and usually sang an extra song or two. My dad always tried to force them to take a tip (the gratuity kind, not the advice kind) even though they always ardently refused. It was against policy. But that didn't ever phase my dad!

For some reason, those are my best holiday memories of our family together, even more so than any of Christmas day. One year in particular we must've been having a good time. After dinner our server told us that our dessert was covered. Apparently the couple a few tables away thought we looked so fun that they wanted to buy us dessert. If you know our family, you'll know that was a GREAT way to get to our hearts. It was delicious. But more than that it's proof that we were so happy in that moment even somebody else noticed it. I will hold on to those memories forever.

Gratitude

A year ago yesterday I was intently scanning the ultrasound screen hoping futilely that three little heartbeats would suddenly appear somewhere.

A year ago today Ryan and I were in the OR waiting for the anesthesiologist so that they could do a D&C.

This morning I woke up feeling a little sad but mostly so grateful. I'm grateful for the growth we've had in the last year and especially grateful to have a little one (and yes, grateful she is just one) still trying to do somersaults inside a tummy she's quickly outgrowing. More grateful than I can really put into words.

On a lighter note, I've been thinking about the importance of saying "thank you." Ryan is so good about thanking me. He thanks me for dinner. He thanks me for cleaning. He thanks me for doing the dishes. When I worked, he thanked me for helping him provide for our family. I'm not saying he literally thanks me for every single thing I do every single time I do it, but he is good about saying it more than often enough. I would do all of it anyway, but it sure is easier to do knowing he appreciates it. Hopefully he knows he much I appreciate what he does too. He works so hard at his job and then has to put in all the extra hours of class time and homework. Then he still manages to find time to listen to me blabber on and on about my unexciting day when he really feels like this:



Anyway, enough with the mushy stuff. Let me just say that I'm glad it's Thanksgiving and hope that you all have a very happy one!

Winnie the Pooh and a Dirty Mirror

If I post another picture, do you promise to ignore my dirty mirror? I didn't realize how dirty it was until looking at the picture (which could be because I need to change the light bulbs in the bathroom). Well, I feel large but I still get plenty of comments about how small I am. In fact a waitress asked if I'd like a drink last Friday. On the other hand, a friend at the storehouse was laughing at me yesterday. I asked her why and she told me that I looked like Winnie the Pooh toddling around. Nice. Another lady at church told me I'm starting to waddle. She also giggled at me. I'll have to let you be the judge:

Nursery and Other Matters

The nursery is done! If Angela came tomorrow (which, we hope she doesn't for her own little sake) then we would at least have a room for her. I feel really fortunate not to have too many complaints. Obviously bending over is getting harder as is sitting for long periods, but for the most part I'm comfortable and we both seem to be healthy. Just don't ask about the heartburn.

Ryan is still working away. He was on "break" for two weeks but that turned out to be a joke. His professors decided to give him homework as well as a project. At least he was at home and not in class until 10pm. He also took his first ever business trip, and it did not leave him with a good impression. The important thing is that he survived and of course hopes he doesn't have to do it again any time soon.

I'm getting my to-do list done little by little and am still volunteering at the storehouse. My mission technically ended (although that reminds me that I never was released either . . . ) but I will keep going as a volunteer as long as I'm feeling up to it. They know not to expect me back after Christmas though! Even though everyone jokes that I will just bring baby girl with me and let all the "grandma's" take care of her while I work. We'll see. I told them I'm not making any promises about that.

So here are the pictures! For some reason it seems like LOTS of yellow in the first picture, but it's just the angle inside the crib, I think. It's not really a yellow nursery except for the bed spread.

I Give Up

Enough people have been bugging me that I'm finally giving in and posting a baby bump picture. I apologize that all my blogging revolves around being pregnant. I'm sure there are funny/interesting things happening, but I don't remember them. I don't remember a lot of things these days. Sorry.

Oh, and I am officially in the third trimester. The first went so painfully slow, but the second was super fast. Baby girl will be here before we know it! I just hope the fall weather gets here before she does. We're sick of 100 degree weather over here.

The Good with the Bad

Do you remember our little sicky Henri? Well, he fell ill again and this time he didn't make it. Henri is the only pet I've really had (I don't count the five consecutive red fighting fish I had--which I named them all Reddy, so clever). I was surprised how much I miss his sweet, stinky face and soft poodle fur. It was really sad to visit my mom last week and not have him there to greet me, lick my hand, and snuggle next to me.

My poor mama has had an even harder time. He was her little companion for so many years. I know she misses him terribly.

Then we had another loss in our grammie. She had recently been diagnosed with cancer and had a long, painful road ahead of her. We miss her but feel relieved that she was spared the drawn out suffering. Grammie lived a full life of travel, learning/reading, volunteer work, painting, bicycling, holding tight to her faith, raising two boys, and loving five grandchildren. My mom pointed out that in all of the photographs of her, she is the one who stands out. She really did have a glow and warmth about her. She should have no regrets for the good life she lived and we know she is at peace.

Amidst the sadness Ryan and I are doing well. Angela is growing well and kicks like crazy. Ryan enjoyed his short break and is in class again. He's very excited because he got us ASU season tickets. He just loves football any way that he can see it. For his birthday last spring he got DVR and HD as his present. This is the time of year he can really use it. All I can say is that I hope Angela likes football.

People Are Noticing

Today was a milestone day. So far only friends and family have been brave enough to comment on the baby bump. At the store this afternoon the sales clerk asked when I'm due. I'm officially pregnant-looking not just pudgy!

What We've Been Making

First, in case you haven't heard . . . we are having a baby girl! Angela (Rose?) is growing and developing nicely and we are relieved. Ryan isn't into the baby planning so much, but he does talk to my stomach sometimes. Granted he's usually plotting with Angela against me.

Also, my appetite is back with a vengeance. It's SO NICE to enjoy food again. I can't get enough and read cookbooks and watch cooking shows on TV. Because I've had extreme heartburn I can't eat too much at one time, so it leaves me hungry a lot of the time. Maybe that's the problem. At any rate, Ryan is on break following his first semester (hooray! one down, five more to go), so I decided to celebrate with a really complicated, rich, dark chocolate cake:

Seriously the most chocolatey cake I've ever eaten in my life. It wasn't that sweet, just rich and creamy. The filling is basically a pudding. Ryan had one small slice and stopped because it was that overwhelming. It's a Cooks Illustrated recipe, so you need a subscription for the recipe. However, Baking Obsession posted the recipe here and the directions are slightly easier to understand. (NOTE: we used a cup of water in place of the brewed coffee)

In other news, Ryan tells me that BYU's first football practice of the season was today. It's probably for the best that we're having a girl because I think Ryan would be teaching plays to my tummy if we were having a boy.

Dear Walmart Patron

Dear Walmart Patron,

I did not have a camera ready when you crossed the street, else I would be sending it to that people of Walmart website. Lucky you. I can only assume that you realized you were wearing a white shirt without a bra. Maybe if I was that busty I would be more eager to show it off too. But what I'd really like to know is why your father (who was accompanying you) let you out of the house wearing a see-through shirt. Or was that older gentleman not your father? You know, I'm not sure I want the answer. Forget I even brought it up.

From,
A Concerned Citizen

No News Yet

I had an ultrasound today, and I am 15 1/2 weeks. I knew the doctor probably wouldn't be able to see anything, but we were hoping. Our little one is measuring a bit small, making things more difficult, and he or she is awfully shy, adding to the trouble. We did get to see some little arm and leg flailing and a bit of wiggling! The good news is that the doctor is going to send us to a radiology lab in three weeks for an official ultrasound. I have been waiting years for this appointment, and I think I can certainly wait three more weeks.

In case you're wondering, I have no inclinations or intuitions either way. Ryan says that he doesn't either. However, several people claim to have had feelings on my behalf. With the exception of my sister-in-law, everyone is betting on a boy. What do you think?

I Had the Craziest Dream

Ryan cringes when I start off a conversation that way. He thinks my dreams are always crazy and does not really care to hear them. Of all the things I prattle on about, it's the topic he cares about the least. It's true that I often have vivid dreams but I've had some odd ones even for me lately. (I'm told this is normal with pregnancy)

So. I really did have the craziest dream last week. I was at a party (a nice party, like at a church friend's house) and I found myself thoroughly enjoying a Corona. It tasted like Squirt. My friend politely asked me if it was wise to be drinking. "Oh yes," I said. "My mom told me that it was okay if I only had one." The friend gave me an odd look and walked away.

Do you ever have dreams that are so weird, even your dream self can't take it seriously? Dream Christie started giving this whole Corona thing some serious thought. I remembered that I was pregnant and wondered why my mother (who is a nurse!) would tell me it was okay to drink one. Was it really okay? Somehow, it just didn't seem okay. Then I remembered, "I'm a Mormon! I'm not supposed to drink! Pregnant or not!" I was still puzzling over whether they were going to kick me out of church and if I'd killed some of my baby's brain cells when I woke up.

But what I really wanted to know the next morning is . . . do Coronas really taste like Squirt? Because I'm not really going to try one, but now I'm curious.

My Grammie's Piano

I don't post much about my dad. There are a lot of intricacies in our relationship that are best left off the Internet rather than trying to explain them. Gift giving is one of those intricacies. We struggled. I never seemed to get him what he wanted, and he gave me some pretty odd ones. I'll leave it at that. He did have at least one very great success.

When I was about seven, I started trying to teach myself to play the piano. When my parents caught onto my interest, my grandmother very graciously gave us her Wurlitzer upright. I loved that piano. It made me sad when my parents decided to get a baby grand. But that baby grand was pretty awesome, so I didn't dwell on it too much.

My dad, however, didn't want to part with my grammie's piano. He knew that it would be awhile before I'd be able to afford a piano for myself, so he kept it. He put that piano and a few items of furniture in storage until I could use it. When we graduated a few years ago, it was one of the first things he asked. "Can I ship your piano to you now?"

I won't go into detail about the nightmare that was getting our piano up to the second floor apartment so that it could sit there unused for a year (I was so paranoid about bothering the neighbors I only played on Sundays with the damper pedal on). However, it now sits in our house where it's played and loved. It just looks like it's supposed to be there. If my dad hadn't gone to the trouble of storing it all those years (and shipping it all the way to AZ), my precious piano and I would never have been reunited. And the primary would've been without a sub for a few weeks since I would've forgotten how to play.

The Big Announcement

I've struggled with knowing just how to write this post. Once upon a time I thought that I would be typing in all caps and using a zillion explanation points. After all the trouble it has taken us to get here, I feel much more relief and gratitude than I feel excitement. Yes, we are finally expecting.

Because I'm past 12 weeks now, I finally feel confident enough to spread the good news. There is ONE and only ONE little bean in there. No triplets this time, and I can't say that I'm disappointed. The little Black bean is planned to enter this world on December 24th. I'm not kidding. Since we already have Christmas, our anniversary, and my birthday . . . someone must have figured December just wasn't busy enough for us. Yet, I can't help but feel this is how it was meant to be.

In the mean time, Black bean has been sending signals to me that he or she HATES veggies, since I've hardly been able to stomach any for months. I figured this meant that we definitely have Ryan's genes in there, but I've also been anti-sweets. That doesn't sound like either of us. Either way, I seem to be dealing with food better than I was and hope I keep feeling like myself again. Even if it is little by little. While I thought I'd never ever be able to do daily shots (ha! I've been doing two-a-days), I found I'd rather give a shot than vomit. Vomiting is definitely in my top five greatest fears.

My next appointment is in three weeks, and I'm hoping the doctor can determine the gender. Since it will be just shy of 16 weeks, it may be iffy. Now that the news is out, I'll be better at keeping everyone posted. We're so grateful for the support and prayers during this "process," so thank you all!

Bird Feathers

I neglected to inform you all that our sweet baby birds arrived! It was hard to count their little beaks from down here on the ground (okay, who am I kidding? I put a step stool by the front door so I could spy on them from inside but I still couldn't see much) but I do believe I counted four. Four! Sweet baby birds. I was sick last week and worrying only about my own pity party and thus not thinking about the birdies. At some point I finally realized I didn't hear chirping. It's been a few weeks, so I figured they'd flown the nest! It's what birds do. Then our home teacher brought over something. I opened the door and looked down to see.....gasp!! bird feathers. Beneath the soft little gray feathers was residue on the pavement. YUCK!!! We have lots of cats in the neighborhood and I just remembered I saw a calico hovering around the porch when I got back from the pharmacy last week. If only I was so anxious to get inside and start the meds and had realized what was happening! In an attempt to console me, my home teacher said, "Well, maybe they just fell out of the nest." It didn't help.

Should've Listened

I kept telling Ryan I was trying not to get excited about the new Pirates movie but that I was finding it hard not to look forward to it. He kept telling me not to get my hopes up. But the two worst characters are gone! I argued. It HAS to be better than the last two! He just shook his head at me.

Then I saw this. At 33% from the critics, our odds are not so good. I should've listened to Ryan because really I did get my hopes up.

Graduate School Orientation

Ryan is gearing up for graduate school in the form of a night program. He is going to be VERY busy the next year. He keeps trying to tell me that I'm going to be busy too (doing his homework) but he is going to be sorely mistaken on that one.

Last night they had an orientation to talk about the layout of the program and force him to network with his classmates. He sent me several funny texts during the evening, but I especially liked this one:

"In case you were wondering, cucumber water is gross."

Ryan hates cucumbers so I couldn't possibly figure out what possessed him to knowingly drink cucumber water. Apparently his only other choice was iced tea. So. Yeah. He said he tried the cucumber water like four times. He kept thinking, "Nothing could possibly taste THAT gross." But then it did. The thirsty boy had to resort to drinking from the drinking fountain. Now Ryan thinks his peers must think he's some kind of country yokel for drinking out of the drinking fountain, but he was really thirsty.

Luckily he seemed to like the people he met and he seems a little less stressed about starting school in a few weeks. Although he has asked me repeatedly to cut my hair like a boy and do graduate school for him. I don't think that's quite the brilliant idea he thinks it is. And I know he'll do just fine.

Under the Bed

Sometimes I have great stories but they're other people's stories and I feel weird telling them. But this is one from somebody I worked with years ago, and I'm sure he doesn't read my blog. So I'm totally stealing it and retelling it here. I think Tamara knows this story, so please chime in if I've told it wrong.

Ed's son was three at the time, and he (his son, not Ed) was having trouble sleeping at night. He was convinced there was something under the bed. They kept trying to calm his fears by showing him there was nothing, but he was certain there was SOMETHING. Poor Ed was at a loss. He could NOT convince his son that nothing was under there, so he decided to turn the tables. He would convince his son that it was something good! In a moment it came to him and he blurted out, "Don't worry, it's just Jesus!"

Who knows what kind of doctrinal confusion that poor boy has experienced since. However, if I remember the story right, I believe Ed's son did start sleeping through the night.

My Mama

My mom is great. I found one of those silly "where will I be in 10 years" things they make you write when you're 14 at church. One thing I foresaw at age 25 (which is me...+2ish) was that "I still talk to my mom every day." I don't EVERY day but definitely several times a week. I knew I would always stay close to my mama.

• When I was in elementary school I came home and told my mom that I hated Bobby (or Billy or someone). She listened but then firmly told me that we don't "hate" anyone and not to use that word. Even now I cringe when I hear others use that word.
• In high school my mom tried very hard to be home when I got home. I'd eat what I call "second lunch" and she would ask me how my day went. If you know me at all, you know how much I can talk. About nothing. For a very long. But she listened nonetheless. She told me recently she thinks right after school is a parent's golden hour to find out what's happening with your teenager. She's probably right.
• My friend repeated a mildly racist joke that her mom made. I repeated it later to my mom. She was quiet for a few minutes then asked, "What exactly do you think she meant?" I immediately felt guilty and told her I wasn't sure. She said that I probably shouldn't be repeating it then. She knew I knew what it meant, but that was her subtle way of saying she disapproved. I took the hint.
• Some of my friends thought my mom was mean because she kept tight rules (like good grades, an early curfew). Yet she always seemed to remember what it was like to be that age. Somehow she was both strict and understanding of why I didn't like that she was strict. I'm grateful now for both.

Just What You Need

Sometimes you get just what you need. Even in VERY unexpected places. I saw a commercial for the movie "Overboard" today. Have you seen it? I don't recommend it. It's really a rather stupid movie. One year we watched it on TV on Christmas day. Our family had been going through a rough spot, so it wasn't the best Christmas. I think "Overboard" came on after something a little more Christmasy we were watching, and we just kept it on. It was just what we needed. We laughed so hard. It was so stupid but we giggled and giggled the whole move through. I've seen the movie since, and can't figure out what we saw in it. All I know is that it was exactly what we needed.

Lately I've been pretty self-absorbed (more even than usual!). I watched this movie, and I definitely DO recommend it. Seems like the lady in the video got what she needed in an unexpected place herself.

Guess Sam Got It Wrong

Bin Laden was not in Canada. Not that I'm complaining!

Uninvited Guests - to Our Wedding

Most girls dream of a big wedding. I guess I was one of those girls. But when it came time to plan my own, my mom and I had a long talk. Because we were getting married over Christmas vacation, things would be pretty hectic for everyone. I decided the two most important things to me were 1.) that I married Ryan and 2.) that I celebrate it with those I loved most--not everybody I've ever had a conversation with. So we had a quiet little reception with only close friends and family. For me, it was perfect. And Ryan....well, he was disappointed we didn't get steak as a main dish with little steaks as a side dish, but I think he was content otherwise.

My mom came across our guest book and sent it with me a few months ago. I went through the guest list and was surprised at some of the guests. Like I said, it was a small reception. How could there be guests I didn't invite? These uninvited guests include: Diana Ross, Jean Luc Picard, Spock, Romyulaus, Worf, Jordi, and something that looks like DHA or something. Now, the handwriting is varied for all of these signatures, so I'm thinking it was a group effort. Would anyone like to confess? Or tell on a friend? Or should I assume these people were really all there, and I was so off in la-la land that I didn't notice?

See Scott, you're the only one off the hook! Maybe being left out isn't so bad . . . ?

Two Easter Bunnies?

The Easter bunny never visited my mom at our house. If you know what I mean. So I assumed things would be the same at the Black residence. I took matters into my own hands and bought myself some candy this year I convinced the Easter bunny to leave a little pile of candy for me, next to the larger pile for Ryan. A nicle little pile of Reese's eggs. Mmmmm....

Imagine my surprise when I went to open the fridge and found a large cadbury egg in the door ice dispenser (what are those called anyway?). I ran and found Ryan who guessed there could be seven more eggs also hidden in the kitchen. He's a good guesser. That's exactly what I found. I was so excited to go on an Easter egg hunt! [I haven't had one of those since my freshman year of college when we had one with my special eggs and Earl (name NOT changed to protect the innocent) lost one, making the set useless. Luckily the cadbury hunt went much better!]

I was so touched that the Easter bunny remembered me. He must've made two trips to our house this year!

Growing up, my mom worked so hard to make each holiday a special one. I don't claim to have her thoughtfulness, but I definitely want to be like that. She was always a one-woman show when it came to that kind of thing and never really had any help.. I'm so grateful that I don't think I'll have to do it alone at our house.

That Time of Year

Remember our little problem from last spring? One year ago to the day, in fact. Well. Our situation hasn't improved. Not only are the grackles at it again, but apparently so are all of the other bird breeds. At least twice I've almost splattered a pair of mourning doves because they were . . . er . . . chasing each other in the air. Really, birds? You can't stop what you're doing for long enough to notice you're flying in the middle of the road and a car is careening toward you? I'm beginning to see why they call it the "birds and the bees." At least the birds part. My only comfort is the hope that we'll soon have some of these.

Little Sicky

Henri is one of my best buddies. He gave everyone quite a scare recently when he quit eating. First we thought he was in kidney failure. Then we thought might have pancreatic cancer. This week we got his test results back, and he has neither. Hooray! We've all been so worried (even Ryan) but my mom especially.

When I had my wisdom teeth out, I came home in tears. My teeth hurt something awful, but I also felt sick to my stomach. I do NOT like to vomit. My mom made me a sick bed on the couch and Henri came over to check on me. He put his nose close to mine and just stood next to me until I quit crying. He was a very good nurse.

More recently . . . my mom has a gas oven that managed to catch fire due to some rogue, dripping monkey bread. Henri was so upset! We were trying to put the fire out without ruining the bread (my mom was hosting brunch and the guests were due to arrive any minute!), and Henri kept herding us away. It was like he was guarding the fire, trying to keep us from it. Obviously that wasn't a true emergency. The fire was small and basically contained. But Henri didn't know that, and he acted very bravely!

Anyway, we know Henri is getting older and won't live forever. We're just glad to have him around for as long as we can keep him.

Speaking of Being Nosy

Did I ever tell you about the guy from church that worries Ryan? If so I hope somebody will tell me. Well, Ryan often trims his beard on Sundays. I don't really pay much attention to it because, well, it's still a beard. We're talking millimeters of difference, people. One Sunday Ryan's special friend came up to say hi to me (Ryan was elsewhere at the moment). He said hello and then, "I noticed Ryan trimmed his beard." I said he had. We looked at each other awkwardly and he walked off. This was probably a year ago, and it still makes me giggle. Why did he notice that? And why did he feel the need to comment on it?

On a totally unrelated note, I finally found my bathroom remodel post. Apparently I posted it to March of 2010. Nice.

Our Nosy Neighbor Netta

Her name isn't Netta. But since I don't have her permission, I feel the need to protect her privacy. Not that she ever shows us the same courtesy. I have a feeling I will have more stories to share about Netta. For now, here is the conversation today:

Me: Hi, Netta! Isn't this weather beautiful?
Netta: It's a little chilly. I saw you and your husband walking to the greenbelt.
Me: Oh?
Netta: Yes, I saw you were going to go play ball.

I should probably explain that Netta lives two doors down, so the only way she would see us going the opposite direction is if she had her face glued to the window watching the neighborhood. I guess I'll share another Netta moment from when we first moved here.

Netta: I noticed you don't have a hedge trimmer.
[What?! Who notices that you don't have a hedge trimmer?? Was she inspecting our freshly mowed lawn and noticed the ends weren't very tidy?]
Ryan: Well, no, we don't. This is our first house and we barely bought the lawn mower.
Netta: I still have the one my husband left me when he died.
Ryan: Okay?
Netta: I'll sell it to you for $40.

As well as being nosy, she is also quite the saleswoman.

My Teenage Skin

My fellow blogger Nathan mentioned an encounter with adult acne. Well, technically, he mentioned one major zit, but I do love hyperbole. After all of the tinkering with my hormones, I got hit hard with adult acne of my own. My skin is always prone to stress break outs, but this was ridiculous. The good news is that it's under control. For now.

I made a remark to a friend (who may or may not be a few generations my senior) about how I still have "teenage skin." She sighed dramatically and responded with, "Oh, you are so lucky!" What? Lucky? I admit, I'm not quite in the wrinkle stage of skin, so maybe I just don't appreciate what I have. However, who would want teenage skin? I still buy Clean-and-Clear acne-fighting face wash and dab benzyl-peroxide on my blackheads at night. I can't even put lotion on my t-zone without a violent break-out. Don't we really want children skin? Skin with no wrinkles or pimples? Now that sounds pretty good to me.

Other People's Kids

Because, well, because I think the fates are conspiring against me, I've been substituting the little ones at church. Like, the 3-5 range. It is both the cutest and most difficult age. Last week everyone was especially wound up (spring break rubbing off from the older kids, maybe?). I came home from church utterly exhausted, but had one sweet little moment.

We were trying to form a line in the hallway while waiting for the class to finish their business on the potty. The High Priests (=oldest men at church) happened to pass by. One especially precocious little guy got really excited. His eyes lit up and he quickly tugged on my arm. "Teacher!" he said. "I just saw a prophet!" Since we were just studying prophets, I am going to assume it means he was listening.

On a serious note, our stake patriarch is in our ward and was part of the group that passed us. He is the epitome of a kind, gentle, Christian man; he does have a kind of reverence about him. Even though I laughed, literally, out loud when the kid said it, maybe it wasn't a completely ridiculous comment. I think his sweet spirit did pick up on something special.

More Improvement Projects

Okay, I need to say upfront that I'm posting this for googlers, not my usual readers. See, we had home improvement trouble (of the we're-cheap-and-love-Ikea -and-end-up-with-cheap-products-with-lousy-instructions kind) and google became my second best friend in trying to figure things out. I hope this can be a good reference from anyone out there googling the same problems. Regular readers, well, you'll probably want to skip this post.

Ryan wanted to revamp his "office" before starting grad school. We went to Ikea and bought a new desk and bookshelf and a few accessories. The bookshelf was so super simple. The Jonas desk posed a few problems. Oh, assembling it was no problem. Even though he picked out one with a snazzy pull out work table (he's very excited about that part).

The first problem was that it didn't have a grommet to pull the computer cords through. In case you're like me and don't know what a grommet is, it's the hole in most desks toward the back. You can feed your computer monitor cord, keyboard cord, etc. up from underneath where the outlets are. Anyway, we found a grommet drill attachment also at Ikea. The directions were very vague, but I found these links helpful:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BKFP2Fu-vtE
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=th2QgSLSO-k

Thank you Expert Village and ehow.com. I should add, the desk is not solid wood. It has thick particle board framework and then honeycombing throughout the rest. Once I got through the outside layer of particle board, I had to pull out some of the honeycombing by hand. Oh, and definitely use painters tape on the top side; it helped tremendously in preventing the "wood" from splitting around the edges. Overall it was a great little drill attachment and the final product was what we hoped it would be.

The real problem came with the summera pull-out keyboard shelf. It did NOT do well with the particle board/honeycomb combination. I meticulously measured and remeasured where to drill the holes to attach the shelf. I inserted the wall anchors included in the set. After assembling the desk, I attached the keyboard. By the end of the night, the back anchors had failed. Apparently the honeycombing isn't ideal. After some panicky googling, we found we weren't alone.

We figured the front two anchors were in the particle board and thus safe. So the next morning I made a trip to Home Depot and picked up some molly bolts. I dismantled the halfway-hanging out anchors in back, and replaced them with the molly bolts. Within hours I found Ryan working on his desk top with the keyboard hanging in front where the front anchors failed. I could've thrown something.

I'll skip the embarrassing details, but I had one more failure when I found out I'd installed all of the molly bolts upside-down. Rendering them useless. Especially stupid since I know better and was just rushing to finish. Don't be like me. It cost me another trip to Home Depot and another set of molly bolts because one remained lodged inside the desk.

Finally, it has been up for almost 48 hours now without incident. Hooray! I hope some of the above links can help other people with their Ikea woes. I REALLY recommend anybody with a summera keyboard to go straight for the molly bolts. And put them on the right direction. :) It will save you loads of time and a few tears (if you're a hormonal woman who almost bashed open a jar of salsa on the counter in anger when you couldn't get the lid to open). Good luck!

Happy Green Day!

Did you do anything special today? For some reason I got really into our St. Paddy's day meal. We had roast (sorry! no corned beef at my table! I heard it's not traditional anyway), glorified cabbage, colcannon, and grasshopper pie! In all of the excitement of the food, I forgot to wear green. Oops. Luckily nobody at the doctor's office or Home Depot was bold enough to pinch me. Even Ryan wore green!

Some Changes Around the House

I finally got around to posting pictures of our newly (somewhat) remodeled bathroom, and now the post is gone. I don't know what happened to it, so I guess I'll just start over. I'm too tired to rewrite the whole post. Instead you just get the before and after shots:

We think it's much improved. It's easier to clean and of course it now has a bathtub. The toilet is much smaller, which is good if you've got short legs like me. And I do have short legs like me.

After taking down the Christmas decorations this year, the house look even emptier than usual. I've been adding little odds and ends to brighten it up. Anyway, I LOVE this sign my sister-in-law gave me:

It says "this kitchen is seasoned with love." It's perfect. I knew just where to put it.

I also decided to build some shelves near the kitchen. I needed more room for my books but also thought the space needed a little something. I'm still scared we may come home one day to a horrible mess of collapsed shelves, but they've been up for two months now without incident.

Ignoring the poor photography skills (like leaving the fan lights on), I think it adds a lot to that wall. I may put a plant or vase on the ground below, but I still like it better than before.

Something More Positive

Hopefully none of you were overly worried about my little rant yesterday. Things did look brighter in the morning and my day has been infinitely better (probably because I'm not acting like a whiny crank). I did get another attorney bill about my dad's estate and just sent off a nasty email explaining why I refuse to throw more money into that pit. Now I'm feeling prickly again and thought I'd share something nice to help me adjust the attitude. We're discussing The Screwtape Letters at book club tonight and was really moved by a passage. In case you haven't read the book, it's written from the point of view of Screwtape, one of Satan's minions, so the Enemy is actually God.

"Our cause is never more in danger than when a human, no longer desiring, but still intending, to do our Enemy's will, looks round upon a universe from which every trace of Him seems to have vanished, and asks why he has been forsaken, and still obeys."

I love the last part about feeling utterly alone and without God's light but still doing the right thing. That's the kind of faith I would like to have 100% of the time. I think I'm at about 3.6% now--long way to go.

Those Days

You know those days? Where . . .

• You find out your hard drive is dying and cannot be cured.
• You're in charge of book club tomorrow, and your friend hasn't returned your book.
• When you got your battery replaced your clock and radio were reset to factory defaults.
• You're watching BYU's basketball team die an even more painful death than your hard drive.
• There are rumors the football team is facing suspensions too.
• You can't figure out why people can't keep their pants on.
• The husband is working crazy hours and you can't imagine what it's going to be like once grad school starts.
• You're starting to get that pre-I'm-going-out-town anxiety.
• You realize that while a grand ol' pity party may seem like a great idea, it really isn't.

Honestly, everything I'm whining about is soooo trivial. It just won't matter in a week or two. This is going to sound awfully juvenile, but I have really been excited about basketball this year. Life is filled with so much garbage it's so nice to see that something's going right. Maybe somebody is trying to remind me that there are more important things to focus on than my hard drive, book club, and sports. As my mom always says, "Things will look brighter in the morning!" They usually do

New Labels and a Crazy Busdriver

I haven't been very dedicated to using labels, but I decided to start a new one for Mega Meltdowns. These may be meltdowns I've experienced or witnessed. Since I'll have plenty of my own to relate, I think I'll start by sharing one I witnessed.

When I was in 5th grade, we had the BEST bus driver named Jack. He brought us fireballs on Fridays and rarely raised his voice to us. He was kind and elderly, and I think I cried the day he retired. This is NOT a story about Jack.

We had another bus driver when I was in 3rd grade. I think her name was Cory. She wasn't awful at first, but then she snapped. I think we were all in the middle of singing a lovely song called, "I Know a Song That Gets on Everybody's Nerves" when she lost it. Not exactly good behavior on our part, but I don't think it warranted the reaction we got.

She pulled the bus over to the side of the road, got off, then proceeded to bash her head against a tree. I'm not kidding. My brother and I still try to pick out which tree when we pass that spot. She also muttered a horrible string of obscenities while continuing to bang her head. Did I mention my poor little brother was only in kindergarten?

Cory got back on the bus and obviously we stared at her in stony, horrified silence. She screamed at us saying, "If you don't sit down and shut up, I will ram this bus up the curb and kill us all! Don't think I don't know how to do it!"

As if the tree scene wasn't terrible enough, she was now threatening to kill us. Please keep in mind that elementary school kids couldn't really understand that driving a bus up a curb going 30 mph at most wasn't going to kill anybody; we took her threat seriously. As you can imagine, we were quiet the entire drive home. We quietly filed off the bus at our stop. Waited until the bus was out of site. Then bolted home to cry to our mommy. I'm pretty sure that's the same thing every other kid did, meaning the school district got about 40+ complaints from irate (times infinity) mothers about the maniac bus driver.

As an adult I realize that poor Cory must've had some terrible demons she was fighting. I hope that she's won that battle by now. And I will say this. At the time we were all pretty scared, but I don't think it actually scarred me for life. Plus, it makes for a pretty crazy story. So, no hard feelings.

A Sweet Memory

WARNING! This is mushy and churchy. Please read no further if you're opposed to either of these two things. Or both.

Today is my friend's birthday. I don't think she reads my blog otherwise I probably wouldn't post this. She will always, always be special to me. See, in high school I heard this talk where this was said:

We are asking you to reach out and share the gospel of Jesus Christ with one other young woman so that she can also enjoy the sweet blessings of heaven that we have spoken of tonight. - Margaret Nadauld

I heard those words and they went deep into my heart. I prayed and fasted to know who that one other young woman was to be. I loved all of my friends and wanted them all to feel the peace and happiness I'd found. But when I prayed about each of my friends, I felt nothing. Then I thought about a girl in my Spanish class. She was slightly more than an acquaintance at the time; I think she'd hung out with us outside of school once. Oh, but she was ready.

I told God that I was too scared to talk to her about church, but she started asking me questions. She asked if she could go with me to seminary (at 5:50 in the morning!!) and to church (for three hours!). Pretty impressive for a 17-year-old. Her life began to change before my eyes as she drank up every word of truth given to her. It was one of the greatest blessings to watch her grow and change. That girl was a rock. Still is. In fact, she is a lovely woman with a husband and adorable baby girl now. And I still love her like a sister. Always will. Happy birthday, Rach! Even though I know you aren't reading this, I'll be thinking of you all day today.

Romance in the Air

Don't worry. This isn't a mushy post. Sometimes Ryan talks about all the other men he beat off to get me. It's sweet but entirely untrue. Ryan's not the jealous type anyway, but he definitely has no need to be. However, last weekend was quite lively in that department.

First, I was almost set up by a woman at the storehouse. She wanted me to go out with her 40-year-old-Starwars-loving son. Well, or the 38-year-old son if I preferred. Both still live at home. She was very disappointed the find that I was married but perked up when she found out I had no children. She had some very graphic advice on how to remedy the childless situation. Apparently after six years of marriage, Ryan and I are.....uh....doing it wrong. I've never been more horrified in my life.

Then, there's Hank. I was planning on going to lunch with friends and texted them to make sure we were still on. Here is the conversation:

Me: Are you still good for tomorrow?
Reply: Huh? Who is this?
Me (thinking my friend was being funny): Christie. :) Wait, isn't this Jen?
Reply: Only if ur really attractive would I let u call me Jen! Lol! I think u have the wrong number. Im Hank.

Considering Hank could be 62 or 12, I did not answer him. Although he could be a funny guy.

Men on Valentine's Day

I just got home from the grocery store. I was making my weekly trip and didn't even think about it being Valentine's Day until I got there. It was VERY hard not to giggle at the poor, bewildered men trying to find something worthwhile on the emptied shelves at Smith's. I even saw somebody's husband from church. Should I rat his ill-preparedness out?

While I found the situation both endearing and amusing, I also felt very proud of Ryan. Even though he's been really sick all weekend, he surprised me last night with some gorgeous multi-colored roses when I got home from my little weekend getaway. He was rewarded with a big bag of M&M's. Now, if you'll excuse me I need to pull my tuna chicken noodle casserole out of the oven. Aren't we romantic?

Home

My brother sent me this link a couple of months ago. Even though the hype is probably past, I'm one of those people that hangs on. For example, I was probably the last person in the United States still listening to the blue song* when everyone else wanted to punch out the radio. Anyway, in case you haven't seen this one or want to watch it for the 100th time . . .



*Forgive me for posting to Eiffel 65. It's worse than rick-rolling somebody.

Ten Reasons We Love Jimmer

It's true. We're totally into Jimmer at our house. Here are the top ten reasons why:

1 - He takes the stupidest shots and makes them. Again and again.
2 - If you guard him too close (you know, to avoid the above problem) he'll burn you bad. Or break your ankles in a crossover.
3 - He works hard. He may have some heavy raw talent, but he's absolutely worked to get where he is.
4 - He's getting all kinds of good press for BYU. I LOVE hearing ESPN talking up the Jimmer.
5 - He's not afraid to pass the ball. Yeah, he shoots. A lot. But he can pass too.
6 - He's the kind of player my dad would've loved. When we're watching him sink a shot four feet behind the three-point line, I can just picture my dad both cheering and laughing too.
7 - He's pretty humble. I don't know how long that will last, but for now he takes much less credit than he deserves. Why did BYU have such a good game, Jimmer? He says they really stepped up the rebounding in the second half. Yes--the rebounding, not the 40+ points he scored.
8 - I don't know how to put it except that he really is just plain fun to watch.
9 - Even Nelly is into Jimmermania.
10 - It's kind of refreshing to hear about somebody besides Bronco for a change (not that we don't love him too).

Stick in the Mud

So most of my recent blogging has been either boring or too serious or both. Today I was thinking of a funny story and thought I'd share.

My brother and I were playing at the beach during a trip to California. Not sure how old I was but probably too old for what we were doing. Instead of building castles like normal people, we dug a hole. A pretty good sized hole. Like a foot deep and two feet diameter. Then, heaven only knows why, we thought it would be funny to put a stick right in the middle.

You know how giggling brothers and sisters get. We thought it would be funny because somebody wouldn't see it and totally get stabbed by the stick. It was a stupid idea. Who wouldn't see the stick? It was right in the middle of this gaping hole in the middle of the level beach.

Well. Apparently somebody. This man totally tripped over it (better than being impaled, right?) and then (okay, I know nobody else will find this story funny at all, but I'm actually laughing while I'm typing this) he yells, "Who put that stick there?!" He was so angry. We laughed so hard. Of course we waited until he was out of ear shot. I think you had to be there, but we thought we were hilarious. It was one of the best things we did on the trip. Did I mention I think I was 13-14-ish? Not 6 or 7 like you're probably thinking.

Goals for 2011!!

I know everyone has been dying to know what my goals were for 2011 and what my progress was for 2010. I apologize for the delay, even though I know nobody could possibly care. As far as last year's goals go . . . I'm not even going to recap them. Some pretty crappy things happened (like I couldn't visit my Grammie's farm since she had a heart attack), and I flat out didn't put the focus into goals that I should've. Instead I'll list some of my accomplishments! Some of these weren't even resolutions from last year. This way maybe I don't feel so sorry for myself.

1. I did, in fact settle my dad's affairs! Even though one or two lingering issues has crept into 2011, I was officially released as executor in September!! I am so grateful to have survived and to have made as much sense of it as I could have. Couldn't have done it without help--from both here and above.
2. Two years ago I started studying Preach My Gospel. This year I finished it.
3. I kept my journal surprisingly up to date.
4. I changed both water filters in the kitchen (sink and fridge). I guess I overachieved in some areas while I failed in others.
5. We replaced the screen door in front and had the bathroom remodeled (pictures coming soon).
6. I quit my job!
7. I wrote to my sweet grandma every single month.

This year I decided to categorize my goals because . . . because . . . probably because I have mild OCD.

·      Take care of the house

o   Clean the baseboards (once)

o   Clean out all of the closets

o   Clean out the garage and make room for water drum

o   Transfer all music to Ipod (I listen while I clean)

o   Clean out the pantry

o   Completely clean the inside and outside of the fridge

o   Clean up the estate files, keeping only what is necessary

o   Put up new shelves

·       Increase my skills and talents

o   Increase investment knowledge

§  Subscribe to podcasts and feeds relating to the economy and financial news/strategies

§  Read books on economics and investment, especially those recommended by Jag (Jag is our investment guy at Schwab. He's from Germany and has a cool name and accent. Luckily, he is extremely knowledgeable and personable, which I supposed is more important than his name)

§  Have reasonable knowledge of current investments

o   Attend book club monthly and continue to read a breadth and depth of books

o   Bake at least one something (bread, dessert, etc.) per week

·         Improve physical fitness

o   Exercise 2-3 times per week

o   Have date night at least once per month

o   Update 72-hour kits

o   Fill and maintain water drum (and find a pallet!!)

o   Replenish year’s supply

·         Improve spiritual fitness

o   Attend the Temple once per month

o   Journal at least once per month

o   Fast every month!

·         Serve others

o   Write Grandma once per month 

o   Make contact with visiting teaching sisters every month

I bolded ones I'm already working on to stroke my ego and remind me that I'm already accomplishing stuff. It is almost February, afterall. Only 11 months to get this stuff done!

It's Not Your Fault

This is one of those posts I'm not sure will actually get posted. It's a serious post and maybe even a bit morbid. Feel free to skip, assuming I do post it.

I listen to a podcast called This American Life. Recently, it featured a story about a man whose friend was suicidal. In an effort to convince the friend that suicide was not the answer, he recorded conversations with the friend about his failed suicide attempt. Then the man sent the tapes to the friend. He figured that the friend would hear himself and realize that suicide was not the answer. Sadly, the friend committed suicide a year or two later.

It reminded me of a story from Chicken Soup for the Soul. I don't remember the exact details, but I'll try to quickly retell what I remember. Basically there was an awkward teenager who was teased mercilessly at school. While walking home one day with an arm full of books, the teen struggled and dropped some of them. Another more popular kid noticed and helped and was basically nice to the awkward kid. In the end it turns out the popular kid's kindness saved the awkward kid from committing suicide. The teen had cleared out his locker and was going home that very day to do the deed. The popular kid was a savior.

I hate that story. Not only is it not realistic, I think it's harmful. How many people have known someone who has committed suicide and then felt guilt-ridden, wondering what if they could've done something to stop it? The Chicken Soup story implies exactly that. It says YOU can stop someone from killing themselves, meaning YOU should've/could've stopped someone if they do kill themselves. But that's just not true.

People who commit suicide almost always have depression or mental illness of some kind. That's not something that can be changed by a mere act of kindness. While it may cheer up a sad friend to give them a call, a depressed friend isn't likely to feel any different after the call. I think being kind and thoughtful is always a good idea. Support and love can help people to get the professional care needed, but it won't directly fix the problem.

We've come a long way in understanding mental illness. We recognize it as true disease, to be treated with counseling and medications. Yet we still sometimes think of it as "the blues" or something people can just "snap out of." Hopefully we can remember that it's not as simple as that. While it is unimaginably tragic, it's not your fault if someone you know takes that step of finality.

The man featured in the This American Life podcast isn't to blame for his friend's death. I'm glad that he seems to realize that. Unfortunately, many people do blame themselves. They shouldn't. Let's say the popular kid from the Chicken Soup story hadn't helped the suicidal teen. Would he really be to blame? He may be a jerk, but it wouldn't be his fault.

Match-Maker, Match-Maker, It's Time to Move On!

I SHOULD be catching up on the dishes that are rapidly piling in my sink. Instead I'm checking facebook and catching up on my blog-reading. It reminded me of a completely unrelated story.

There is a man at church in his late 30's. He's a very nice guy but had a hard time finding a wife. I shall call him Ernest. Because Ernest is such a kind, quiet man, some of the older women at church thought they should help him to find a girlfriend. So they frequently set him up with granddaughters, friends' nieces, etc. None of them worked out. Fortunately, a lovely girl named (I'll call her) Amanda entered the picture and they are now happily wed!

However, Ernest and Amanda do have one slight problem. The well-intentioned older ladies are having a hard time remembering the previously mentioned union. They keep trying to set Ernest up on dates! One will find him alone in the hallway at church and start talking up the most recent potential match, and he has to awkwardly explain that he is unable to date any longer due to his recent marriage. These women do know about Amanda, but they figure he's game until the knot is tied--which is the part of the story they keep forgetting.

Amanda is a very patient and understanding woman.

And Hannah Montana Is No More

It's true. The final episode was this weekend. Did you know? If you have a little girl between the ages of four and ten, you probably do. Then again . . . I've noticed a pretty rapid decline of Hannah Montana paraphernalia the last six months or so. In fact, we didn't even have any Hanna Montana's trick-or-treat to our door. Clearly, it is time for her reign to end.

Even so, it seems like they blasted through the last season as quick as possible. Because it's late, and I don't want to make the effort to get up, I looked up some stats. According to Wikipedia, the last season had only 13 episodes! The first season had 26 (so double), and the other two seasons had about 30. You're hearing it here first, people. I would bet money (if I was a betting woman) that Disney knows of some Miley Cyrus scandal brewing, due to erupt at any moment. They got the season done as fast as they could in order to beat the leak! That, or market share was dropping faster than the speed of light.

[btw, I kinda like the replacement show Shake It Up! But don't tell anyone]

Enough Cleaning to Wake the Dead

Our church building no longer has paid janitorial services. All cleaning must be completed by the ward members. We conveniently skipped out on our first rotation when we were out of town for Thanksgiving. It was our turn again last Saturday. We showed up late only to see a hearse. Obviously that was odd, but we didn't think too much about it.

We walked in and what did we see at the other end of the hallway. A big, light blue, OPEN casket. There we were to clean, with a dead body out on display. I really don't like bodies [let it be known: when I die, we will NOT be having an open casket! If someone opens it, I'll be coming back to close it myself ], but more than the creepy factor, it just seemed so . . . so . . . disrespectful!

All but the bathrooms were cleaned before we arrived, and I'm never been so grateful to clean a toilet. When we left Ryan said, "I'm so glad I didn't have to vacuum! Can you imagine trying to vacuum with a casket in there?" What if you bumped into it? Yikes!

Back to Business

I've had a hard time transitioning from the holidays, thus the blogging absence. In fact, my decorations only came down two days ago. It is time to get moving into 2011!

So once the decorations came down I got that empty feeling inside, reflecting the empty spaces around the house. [ which is probably why I put off the clean up to begin with ] Anyway, I noticed an extremely bare wall between the family room and kitchen. It needs shelves, I thought. Besides, my collection of books is about three books away from overflowing my bookcase.

I went to Home Depot (pronounced DEH-po according to my dear Texan high school physics teacher) and made quite the fool of myself. After an hour I finally had the board I needed. A kind employee agreed to cut it in half for me.

This is totally random, but guess what they use for measuring? Yes, tape measures. But not just any tape measures. Unopened tape measures straight off the shelf! They still have the plastic clam shell packaging. I wasn't sure if I should be concerned that they were using merchandise or amused at their cleverness. You have to admit, it's efficient!