Consolation Prize

“Trenton, should we have a baby at Mama’s house?”

“Ummmmmm… we could have CAaaake….”

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Which I think is his nice way of saying, “You don’t need a baby, Mom. I’m your baby, Mom. But hey! Don’t fret -there will always be cake.”

Anyway, with this boy around there’s no room in my arms for a baby. If he doesn’t find me in the middle of the night, he finds me first thing in the morning. Today was no different.
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And just so you know: there’s nothing like your son saying “I don’t want to take a smile of me” to make you take about 20 pictures.

PS: you all know about my brother, Steve.  Well I have other brothers.  Here’s a pretty amazing blog post by the brother nearest my age, Mike.  CLICK HERE Prepare to be impressed with his new toy.  I was.

 

Birthday Drive-In

My husband is really big on birthdays.  The first birthday we ever spent together was my 19th birthday (!!!  19!?  I was just a kid!).  His gifts to me were so perfectly planned -so sentimental.  He gave me “Hidalgo,” the movie we saw on our first date.  He gave me “Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World” because I had RAVED about it and to make matters better… he gave me the soundtrack!  He gave me a pink fleece blanket, a carton of cotton candy (pink, which he ate), picture frames to fill our soon-to-be-ours apartment, and he also gave me a brand new pair of RED shoes because he knew how much I loved the red shoes I wore nearly every day.  When he saw a new shiny pair, he thought of me and he bought them.

It was so darn sweet, I could hardly stand it.  Every year -RIGHT when I wake up, he has a birthday gift wrapped and waiting for me.

WELL, this year I got one of the best gifts EVER!  He sent me to a three-day retreat with my Mom in Utah.  Kid free!  Amazing classes!  New haircut and color!  And I couldn’t be more grateful… but the retreat was August 1-3rd… and my birthday is the 16th.  That meant I woke up on the 16th with no present.  Which was fine.  I knew I had already gotten my rather expensive gift (we saved for a year), and I was fine.

The night of the 15th, my husband asked “What are your plans tomorrow?”
I told him the truth, “I have to go through all of our clothes and get rid of what we don’t need. I’m donating them to the clothing exchange going on this week.”
“Oh,” he said, “Cool.”
And then we went to bed.

The next morning, after a birthday kiss, he went to work. I set to washing all of the kids’ clothes. All day long I was under a pile of laundry. I received facebook birthday messages and answered them all right back because -let’s face it -I was sitting on the couch under a literal mountain of laundry.

But it was okay. I mean, really. Is laundry what I wanted to do on my birthday? Not really, but it wasn’t bad. I streamed chick flicks and I enjoyed reading all of my sweet facebook messages.
As the day went on, my daughter’s behavior got progressively worse.
She broke one of my Willow Tree figurines -the one given to me by an Aunt as a graduation gift.
Worse: she lied about it -tried to blame her brother.
She’s also in a correcting phase. As in: every time I do something wrong, she lets me know.
“You’re not wearing your seat belt.”
“We don’t do that Mom.”
I listened to her correction all day long and tried to SMILE about it. Because it was my BIRTHDAY and we’re SUPPOSED to be HAPPY ABOUT IT. After her brother went down for a nap, she asked me for some ice cream.
I dished her out some, putting a spoonful of ice cream in my mouth as I did.
“Mom, where did we get the ice cream?” She asked as I was forking it into my mouth.
“Hannah,” I replied, my mouth full.
“Mom, we don’t talk with our mouths full,” she chimed.
I gritted down on that ice cream and replied, “That’s right. We don’t.”

After a thorough lecture from her father last night about sneaking food into her room, she snuck a pile of chocolate animal crackers into her room, spilled them, stepped on them and then LAUGHED in my face when I spanked her. And when I got after her for laughing, she laughed at me again. Three times.

But I shook it off. My husband would be coming home soon. My sister had offered to take the kids for a while that night… it would all be okay.
Then I got a text from my husband telling me he might not be able to make it home in time to go out.

At that point, I threw caution to the wind and busted out the bag of cookie dough I had frozen a few weeks earlier. I sat on top of my clean laundry and ATE cookie dough. And I liked it.

I had tentatively planned a creative date. I always plan creatively when we don’t have much cash, you know. We’re at the end of our pay period, and I thought it might be fun to hit up Red Box, buy a few snacks, and take my lap top out somewhere and watch a movie… create our own little drive in, so to speak. Just the thought made me sing, “Stranded at the Drive-in” without stopping for, oh… four hours. give or take.

Word came at 7:30 that my husband was on his way home. He would make it home a little late but JUST in time for us to go out. I was emotionally drained. I was tired of laundry. BUT IT WAS MY BIRTHDAY and I WAS HAPPY. I got ready. I teased my hair and sprayed perfume on and applied lip stick. I fed my kids (I wasn’t hungry on account of the cookie dough) and when my husband got home, I had the car fully loaded and I WAS READY TO GET THE FRACK OUTTA THERE!

After dropping the kids off, I remarked, “I’m so tired. Let’s just go rent a movie, grab some take out and go home to watch the movie.”
“Um,” he started with some trepidation, “I have to be to work early, so if we’re going to watch a movie we need to do it now.”
And that’s what did it.
I didn’t want to try and be happy anymore. I didn’t care if it was my birthday anymore. I didn’t want to watch a movie if we were going to be rushed. I didn’t want to grab take out or sit down because I wasn’t hungry.
You know what I wanted at that point?
My bed.

We drove into town to rent a movie. By then, my husband had figured out that I wasn’t exactly hyped up for a party. He asked me to please smile.
But I thought it would be cool to cry instead.
“Please can we just go home?” I pleaded, “It’s late. I don’t want to leave the kids forever. I don’t want food. Let’s just go home.”
“Okay,” he said, wrapping his arm around me.
We drove home, tears filled my eyes… it wouldn’t have been a huge problem except I was driving. We neared an exit, and my husband said, “Get off here. Turn around.”
“Please,” my heart sunk, “Please let’s just go home.”
“Pull off,” he said, gently, “I’ll drive now. Let’s go back into town for a few snacks and then I promise we’ll just go home.”
“Okay,” I nodded, the promise of HOME ringing in my heart.

As we pulled into the parking lot, he turned the car off.
“I’ll be right back,” he said.
“I’m coming with you,” I replied.
There was a reason for it, you know. There was a reason I braved the late night crowd at Safeway with tear-stained eyes. I knew that if I left my husband alone he would buy me flowers.
I didn’t want flowers.
Feel free to judge me for what I’m about to say. I judge me.
Growing up, my Dad always ordered flowers for my mother. I used to sit and stare at them on the kitchen table. They were the most wonderful arrangements I’d ever seen, and they were a symbol… I just knew -every time I looked at those arrangements -that my Dad really, truly loved my mother. My husband has always been a stickler for flowers. He makes sure I have them for every possible occasion that you SHOULD have flowers. Valentines, Mother’s Day, anniversaries, birthdays…
He’s sentimental and sweet, really. An amazing man!
That’s why I never had the heart to tell him that what I really wanted… was those expensive arrangements in custom vases with cards sticking out of them.
Can you blame me for not wanting to tell him?! I HATED myself for it! I blame my father! He SPOILED the whole idea for me! (I jest, Papa. I jest.)
Danny has always been so sweet about getting me flowers. Always roses.
I finally had the courage to tell him that I don’t care for roses, and it pained me to the core. How many women out there would kill to have a husband like mine that brought them roses whenever occasion permitted? I know this! That’s why I felt like I jerk telling him the truth. Ever since then, he’s brought me beautiful bouquets of daisies, sunflowers (my favorite), lilies… he’s wonderful.
But last night, I didn’t want a Safeway bouquet. I wanted to cry and I wanted my bed and I knew that if I went with him into the store, he wouldn’t buy me any flowers.
Don’t I sound like the worst person on earth right now? Yes, I do. I know I do. I despise myself.
“Pick out some ice cream,” he said to me in the freezer section, “And I’ll be right back.”
“No,” I said softly, grabbing his arm, “Just stay.”
“No,” he said, less softly and pulled away, “I’ll be right back.”
“Danny, don’t get me flowers.”
“I wanted to get them earlier! I’m promise -I just didn’t have the time and I -”
“I don’t want them,” I admitted, quietly.
“But I always get them,” his shoulders dropped.
“I know,” I nodded, wanting to slap myself for what I was about to say, “I just don’t want them unless they’re… ordered.”
“Did I spoil you with your Valentine’s bouquet?” He smiled (for the first time in our married life, he ordered me a bouquet for Valentine’s Day -a dozen beautiful red roses, and despite the fact that roses aren’t my favorite, I was over the moon. Swoonin’. Smitten. Done for. Absolutely done for.
“I’ve actually always been this way,” I said, carefully.
“Always?” The poor beautiful man looked like I had just taken a mallet to his heart.
“Yeah.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, honestly wanting to know.
“Because you’ve always been the sweetest man in the world,” I wrapped my arms around him in the middle of the freezer section, “And I didn’t want to admit to myself let alone to you that I’m a high maintenance jerk.”
Much to my relief, he laughed.
And we went home without flowers.

We picked out Ben & Jerry’s ice cream for each other, and then we snagged some IBC cream soda and brownies.
Seven years ago, we took some IBC cream soda and Little Debbie Brownies out by a baseball field at night, we parked the car, watched a wildfire burn on a nearby mountain, drank our cream soda and ate our brownies… and in all actuality we FELL ASLEEP. But we didn’t stay there all night.
The cops woke us up.

In memorandum, we bought our cream soda and brownies (I thought we had bought IBC root beer that night, but Danny reminded me it was really IBC cream soda. See what I mean? The man is GOLD). And then my husband took the wheel.

He drove us out to my family’s land west of town. He unloaded our car which hasn’t exactly been completely cleaned up from our camping trip, he put the seats down:
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Within a matter of minutes, we had our own mini drive in. (Check out that “Rango” preview!)
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The movie didn’t work all that well on account of it’s being scratched all to heck, but it didn’t matter.
I shifted in my seat and suddenly music started playing.
From under my seat.
One of Lacy’s toys had fallen behind the seat -a Disney Princess “CD” player. It sang and sang and sang… and we laughed harder with every song.
I tried my hardest not to move, but it was impossible. If I didn’t move, I couldn’t have any brownies! I also couldn’t resist singing “Grease.”
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I secretly wanted to say, “Meant something to you! You think I’m going to stay here with you in this? this sin wagon? You can take this piece of tin!” and throw my ring at him while I bailed out of the car and ran through Grandpa’s field.
I hoped he would yell, “You can’t just walk out of a drive in!” after me, but I was child locked in my own car.
So I just sat there instead. like a normal person.

In the end, after I had a brownie and a cream soda and a few bites of rich ice cream and a few laughs over “Dinner with Shmucks” I was right as rain.
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My husband is a miracle worker -a magical man. A wizard.

As packed up and drove off, my husband hummed “Little Mermaid” songs, thanks to my daughter’s toy.
We picked the kids up two hours after we dropped them off, and I tried to get a good picture of them.
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I failed.

And please tell me I’m not the only one who gets excited to see their birth date on stuff. And yes, I still get a rush when I see my birth date on the milk jug. right under “exp.”

When I Was 25

When I was 25, I made dinner:
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See that? It’s an empty plate (the one in front of my dad… not the one off to the side that’s packed full of brisket). Dinner was a success, a little lacking in the salad department… but otherwise a success!!

I woke up today feeling SO full still.
I also woke up and changed ages, which used to be loads of fun. But now?
Remember when I was 25 last night?
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I could be 25 forever.
Of course, I also wanted to be 8 forever, and I’m glad that didn’t pan out… I’m sure in 20 years I’ll look back and say “I’m glad I didn’t stay 25 forever.”
(I highly doubt I’ll ever say that, but it’s a nice thought for the moment.)

When I was 25, my son wore a stack of cowboy hats. I focused my camera on him and said, “Say… Fiesta!”
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After the flash went off, he said “Fee-fest-fess-shuh.”
Close enough for me, by jingo.  And don’t mind the trash off to the side.  It’s not like YOU don’t have any at your house.

When I was 25, my kids smothered me… so much so that you can’t even tell (…I’m not wearing a bra…)
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When I was 25, I looked red-eye evil.

When I was 25, I wore my favorite shirt that I bought in high school from a thrift store in Mesa. To this day, it’s still held together by the safety pins I put on it as a teenager. Sturdy little beasts.
Oh, and I also wore the Balls necklace. My brother and I used to take turns wearing the Balls. And we used to love to say, “I want to wear the Balls today.” He went on his mission to Mexico (Fee-fest-fess-shuh!) and I ended up with the Balls. I still have them. I will forever have them -unless he wants them.  It is his turn, after all.
I love the Balls.

Will 26 be as wonderful? Of course it will be. I’m just being sentimental about youth. It isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, is it? I mean you never hear anyone say things like, “If I were young again…” Or “What I wouldn’t give to be 25…” or “Youth is wasted on the young…”
Right?
RIGHT?!

Post Worthy

I get to spend today in my kitchen (one of my all-time favorite places to be, especially when Pandora’s by my side) making a BIG dinner for my Dad’s birthday gift.  His birthday was last week, right before irrigation turn.  We postponed celebration until after it was over.  The night of his birthday, he was standing next to his tractor looking up at the sky.

“Look at that,” he said, “It’s a perfect night for bailing.”  He then said something to the effect of “I can get ‘x’ amount of bales” and “what a great birthday present.”
Ah, men. So easy to please.

Tonight, I’m making a braised brisket, french bread covered in olives and cheese, corn on the cob (Bushman corn! Shhhh, don’t tell my Hansen Dad, haha) and OF COURSE pineapple upside down cake -the only cake Dad will eat.
I’m so excited.

I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow. Today I don’t have a nice, plump post for you. I have bits and pieces that won’t make up full posts on their own, but they shouldn’t be left out. For example… check out my husband’s hat:
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Nice, right? I have a good snigger every time he puts it on.
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See the horses behind him? Giselle (the filly Lacy played with in her princess dress) now lives by us. Lacy couldn’t be more happy.

This made me laugh so hard.

The pregnancy test app? Slaughter me. Just slaughter me.

I recently attended a bridal shower for one of the girls who used to be in our Young Women. One of her girlfriends made her a bra our of duct tape. The only thing that could make this contraption more radical would be tassles and possibly rhinestones:
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We planted this squash plant from seed. I planted exactly TWO small seeds. AND LOOK:
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Monstrosity! Monstro City!

Saturday morning, I was getting ready to go to said bridal shower. Because I hadn’t been able to BUY a present, I spent all of Saturday morning making one. I dug into my apron stash, found one that was nearly completed and completed it. Then I made a hot pad to match. My husband was gone all morning chopping wood. When he came home, he opened the door and said, “WHAT HAPPENED?”
“Oh,” I chimed in, sweetly, “You know how I usually clean?”
“Yeah…”
“I just didn’t have time to today.”

And then he had what I hoped was a “I appreciate you so much” moment.

In all actuality, I think he had a “I’m gettin’ outta here!” moment because he spent the rest of the day outside.
But we can always hope.
Here’s what I made for the shower. It was really fun to get back to crafting for a morning.

(I love the necklace I’m wearing in that picture.  Of course it was made by Cat!)

And a hot pad that sort of matched. But really. Where can I find a green that matches exactly?
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Now I’m off to the kitchen.
There will be good eats tonight!

Wishlist

My husband and I used to watch the television sitcom “Friends” almost every day.  We own most of the seasons (maybe all?), but we don’t watch them at all anymore on account of my kids and their parroting abilities.  Anyway, there’s a sort of ongoing joke in the series about Rachael and the lists she makes for everyone when her birthday comes around.

Friends The One Where They All Turn Thirty
(image from sharetv.org)

As I started thinking of my wishlist, it made me laugh.
“Stick to the list. Always stick to the list.”

I’ve never made a list before. I’ve actually already been given my birthday present -a three-day retreat at Thanksgiving Point. Because I won’t be getting any gifts on my birthday, I thought it would be fun to come up with a “wants” lists, so please forgive how excited I am over this. There’s no particular order to all of this, nor do I feel like I’ll DIE if I don’t get any of these ever in my life… but it is fun to share them with you AND now I’ll have a handy reference place to send my husband when Christmas comes around!

Hot Stone Massage:

(image from callmary.net)

My lower back has given me nothing but trouble since I was pregnant with my (now almost 3 year old) son.  Lately, it’s gotten worse.  My granny worked on my feet a few months ago and told me that my feet told HER (didya follow?) my lower back had sustained an injury years and years ago.  I can’t think of any time that I’d been hurt, so we both decided I had been thrown as an infant.  Okay, we didn’t decide that.  I just threw that out there because my mom reads my blog.  Hi, Mom!  Whatever the reason (his heart or his shoes), my back hurts.  Before I even THINK about getting pregnant again, I’d like that situation to be remedied or at least drastically improved.

DownEast Rio Dress:

I spotted this beaut last time I was in the valley.  I didn’t have the time to try it on or the money to buy it, but I LOVE it!  I’m afraid that I’ll eventually buy it and then it will look horrible on me, but I’ll never have the guts to give it away because I adore it.  Does that make me crazy?  Welllll, I think it makes me female.  (insert a chorus of my male readers saying in unison “SAME DIFF!”)

Painter’s Drop Cloths

(image from remodelista.com)

I want to use a bunch of these bad boys to make a bunch of home decor stuff.  Namely: a ruffle shower curtain, a few pillows, and possibly a bed spread.  I also plan on combining them with some sheets to make ruffled curtains in our master bedroom (you know, to match the master bath shower curtain) and then I’ll tie them back like so:

(image from countryliving.com)

Aveda’s Smooth Infusion Glossing Straightener:

(image from spoiledpretty.blogspot.com)

When Magician Brittney put some of that magic goo into my hair… angels sang, and I ain’t kidding.  It’s about $22 ($25?) a bottle, and that seems like a steal.  Aveda products are good for your hair (all natural), and they smell so yummy! Even their lipstick (which I wear every day because Autumn the Make-Up Lady matched me with a shade… isn’t every woman’s dream to find a shade of lipstick that works?!) smells yummy.

Yellow Studs:

or even:

lemon custard studs

(both images from shoplemode.com)

I just can’t get over those yellow studs!  Pretty, pretty!

Also from shoplemode.com:

A clutch!  My kids are big enough that I don’t need to lug around a big bag anymore.  I toted around a small clutch while I was at the retreat and I fell in love!  It fit my phone, my room key, my debit card, and a pen.  Perfection!  I love the black lacy clutch.  Wouldn’t it go great with:

Helena Eyelet Dress from Delia’s?  I have a couple of cardigans begging to be worn with that dress!  So cute.

After having my lap top for over 7 months, I still haven’t installed Microsoft Word.  I’ve been itching to get my hands on the program so I can really write.  Right now, I’m just opening up draft portions on my blog and typing away.  It gets the job done, but having Microsoft Work would insure that I get the job done successfully.  My great plans to get that are to sell just enough crafts to buy it.  It wouldn’t take much, and I KNOW I’d benefit.

A $30 shopping spree in Goodwill.  I’m such a junker, but some of the things I love most in my house have come from thrift stores.  When I think about going back to a thrift store, I get giddy.  I’m passionate about crap!  Can I get a t-shirt made that says that?

Paintable Wallpaper:

(from freshhomeblog.com)

For my dining area!

This pattern from voguepatterns.mccall.com

I’ve never made myself a dress before, but that style makes me really want to try!  I could live without 5 different colors of that same style dress!

Lats but not least:

Finally get that pile of wood in my living room turned into a bench from Knock off Wood!  Life has been SO full and crazy that we only got so far as hacking the piano up… now I’m stuck with a pile!  My husband said, “Let’s just put it in storage.” He didn’t realize how just a few short words could REALLY light a fire in my undercarriage.  “OR WE COULD MAKE IT INTO A BENCH!” What will it do in storage, pay tell?  We all know.  Sit. There.  I’d knock that bench out myself if I had the know-how.  Generally, I’ll get my hands on something if I want to learn how to do it, but we’re talking about fancy wood from an antique piano here.  I can’t just go grab some more from Home Depot if I mess up.

And I WILL mess up.  Just ask the three pints of strawberry BRICK jam in my cupboard.

Okay, this isn’t on my wish list, but I just saw it on the Knock Off Wood site:

Outdoor Storage Bench

It’s an outdoor storage bench. That is EXACTLY what I’ve been looking for, but I want it in my bedroom to house blankets.  I’m so excited!  I REALLY need to learn how to work with wood.  I wish I had Tia’s brains sometimes.  Most times.  Okay, every day.

Speaking of Tia… I can’t wait until we’re the same age again so we can be real friends.

And for those of you concerned about my daughter’s broken heart: she’s already told me she plans on asking Santa for a green bird.  Here’s to hoping we can keep it alive!

Mourning

Remember our little bird?
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It escaped so many times that I stopped trying to catch it. Instead, I just enjoyed watching it hop around our floor. It scavenged for food and shrieked at me anytime I got anywhere near it. It was sort of sweet, really. And it made me feel less guilty for not vacuuming. I mean, if I HAD vacuumed, it wouldn’t have any food. Right?
Right.

I named him, you know. I know you shouldn’t name wild pets with broken wings since the odds of survival are minuscule, but I named him against my better judgement. Given my recent addiction (and recovery) to “Prison Break,” I named the bird Scofield in honor of Scofield the Escape King and his ravishing good looks:

(on a side note, the man who plays Scofield actually has a degree in English Lit. AND he sings. Whaddastud.)

Well, I opened Scofield’s box to check on him, and he was dying. I took him in my gloved hands, walked him outside and sat him on the grass.
Except he couldn’t sit.
Lacy stood by my side as we watched him take his last breath.
I said, “Okay, the birdie just died.”
She said, “Oh.”
It was quiet for a minute, and then she burst into tears.
“I JUST WANT HIM TO BE ALIVE!”

I gently pulled the bird’s wings out and let her see that one was perfect and one was broken.
“If the birdie had stayed alive, it would be hurting because of it’s broken wing, see?” I pointed to it.
“But, but… I just want him with ME!” She sobbed.
I hugged her and let her cry. I explained to her that Heavenly Father could make the birdie all better and that Heaven was a much better place to be. She nodded, took the bird in her hands, said, “I’m sorry but you have to go to Heaven now.”
She handed the bird back, and I told her to go wash her hands.
She sprinted inside. I took care of the bird by placing him back in his box for the moment, rounded up the boy who had run rampant in the yard, and then went inside.
I went into the kids’ bathroom to find Lacy sitting on the vanity with her feet in the sink, water running on them. She was SOBBING.
I took her in my arms and let her cry, and then I told her a short story about when I was a girl.

I had a green parakeet that I loved. His name was Aladdin and I took really care of him. He played with me every day -he would sit on my shoulder for hours. Once when I was sick, he wouldn’t get off my shoulder. He stayed right with me until I felt better. Only then would he go into his cage. One day, a cat got him and he died.

As I spoke, Lacy’s wet eyes got bigger and bigger.
“He died?” She asked.
“Yeah,” I nodded, “I was really sad.”
“You were?”
“Yep. But now Aladdin is up in Heaven and he’s playing with YOUR bird. Heaven has lots of fun stuff for birds. What do birds love?” I asked.
“Toys.” She said.
“Heaven is FULL of toys for birds,” I said.
“Oh,” she dried her tears, “I need to write my bird a note.”
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It was a great note.
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She read it to me and I wrote down what she said:
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Then she drew a picture of a bird with one perfect wing and one broken wing:
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As I made dinner, she sat on the counter and cradled her bird.
“I’m sorry you have to go to Heaven now,” she would say, over and over. Trenton asked if he could hold the bird.
“No, Trent,” she said, “He is just SO dead.”

And when Daddy came home, the tears were gone. She was at peace with her birdie’s death. Daddy helped her bury the bird she had wrapped lovingly in two paper towels.
Right here:
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That night it was perfect weather. We ate some tilapia, zucchini (which Lacy insists are called “bikini”), and crookneck squash. I love this time of year.
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Maybe that’s why I chose to be born when I did. Only four more days until I’m 26!

A New You Retreat -Pt. V

Our color class was taught by one of the classiest women I’ve ever met: Cindy Wakefield:

Again, a creeper picture. I wasn’t able to get any great pictures of her in our color class, and so I hoped to get one when she sat across the table from me. I set my camera on the table. Aimed it… and *snap!* But it wasn’t all that great.
Creeping does not pay.
I wonder why I keep doing it.

Cindy had us each sit in a chair at the front of the class and she took a magical little magnifying glass with a light on it (maybe there wasn’t a light. I can’t remember). She used it to look at our eyes and determine whether we were warm or cool colors. After checking our eye color, she’d drape a pink piece of cloth over us… and then a peach. If the pink looked better than the peach, we were cool colored. If the peach looked better than the peach, we were warm colored.
My Aunt Julie Strong joked as she sat in THE CHAIR that she felt like she was at Hogwarts getting sorted.
Mom and I were both cool colored. I always thought I was warm colored, and luckily Cindy said I could get away with wearing both but I look better in cool.
Whew! I don’t have to trash my wardrobe. I don’t think I could afford that. We’re in a recession, you know.

Cindy listed about 5 or 6 different styles that we all fall into (casual, classic, dramatic, natural, feminine…) and she also taught us a shopping trick.
If you’re cool colored, you should paint your nails pink before shopping for clothes. THEN hold your nails up next to the shirt (or whatever) you’re looking at and see if the colors go well together. If they don’t, then you shouldn’t buy it.
If you’re warm colored, paint your nails more of a peachy color and use the same technique. She said this technique works just as good as taking a cool color wheel or a warm color wheel and trying to find colors that match the wheel.
Does that make sense?
Obviously, this isn’t my strong point.
But I’m getting better!

My sister, Ju, is most definitely a warm colored person. Maybe I should hand some of my wardrobe over to her.
Mom getting “sorted”:

After our color class, we took a short break and walked down the hall to our style class taught by Kris Denison.
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Kris taught us what our body shape was, what our face shape was, and to never -under any circumstances -put our cell phones in our control top pantie hose.

I was certain my shape was rectangle and that my face was round.
Mom was certain her shape was rectangle and that her face was square.

We were both wrong -we both have hourglass figures (!!!) and oval faces. Best. News. Ever. I’ve been dressing differently ever since!
She taught us the 8-point system. As luck would have it, my handout on the 8-point system is NOT where I thought it would be. Stink!
Here’s a link to a more complicated 16-point system. Same idea, but the 8 points is easier and much more practical for someone like me (and you) who is always on the run… right behind -and always two steps behind -two little runts!
As soon as I find my 8-point handout, I’ll share it.

She listed for us the 10 fashion staples:
#1) Little Black Dress (check!)
#2) Black Blazer -fitted (what’s a blazer?)
#3) White Shirt -can even be worn over bathing suit (check!)
#4) Necklaces -layer them, wrap them differently (check!)
#5) Clutch bag/hand bag -can be worn with jeans or a dress (half check! -could definitely use a couple more)
#6) White Jeans -bit belt (NO! NO WHITE JEANS!)
#7) One Great Shirt or Top that you can always grab and feel great (I have a few! Triple check!)
#8) Trench coat -neutral color (need!)
#9) Scarf (check! But I need a few more for variety)
#10) Spanx -get at Target (need!)

She also told us that the key to getting your eyes to really POP has nothing to do with make-up and everything to do with earrings. And all you have to do is WEAR some.

With all of her amazing information, I have so much more confidence. When I walk around a clothing store, I finally have some DIRECTION! It’s so nice! My poor husband’s wallet!
To be fair, I haven’t robbed it yet. But, OH, how I want to! Now that I know what I want and what I’m doing clothing stores are dangerous places… it’s good for me though. I have the hardest time shopping for myself, and really -I’ve been given the tools to find a great outfit for my body whether I’m in Nordstrom or Goodwill (Savers being eliminated from the equation).

My daughter is the coolest girl in the world. She goes to school next year, and I’ll be left at home wallowing in lack of coolness.
Maybe then I’ll get my next baby. And she’ll be a girl. And she’ll be cool like Lacy.

We headed back to the dino museum that night for our final devotional:
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Songs were sung TO us (by Stephi, who was in our group):
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Songs were sung BY us (warning: this pictures is cliche of what goes on when women get together for three days of feminine fun times):
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We had to say goodbye to friends we’d just met but felt like we’d known forever:
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And we had to say goodbye to friends with celebrity names (Pamela Anderson):
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We had to say goodbye to our tiny roommate who didn’t quite reach my shoulder:
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Of all the ladies I miss most:
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MOVE to Joe City, girls! Buy Speedy’s and then MOVE to Joe City!

Between dinner and the final devotional, mom and I took some creeper pictures of a woman whose daughter had received her mission call THAT DAY and driven to the retreat to open it with her mom. Several members of the family drove down as well, and they gathered together to share a special moment… mom and I hunkered behind some bushes or pillars or what-have-yous and snapped a picture:
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And then we left, later finding out that she’s going to be serving in BRAZIL!

As we checked into the Salt Lake Airport, we saw two groups waiting for missionaries to come home. So what did we do?
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We watched.
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I took that through some plexi glass. A missionary hugging his sister for the first time in two years. Aw!

I confessed to mom that we might as well make our creeping complete by rushing a laboring mother in a nearby hospital and snapping pictures.
For shame!
But it was so sweet to see their joy… so so sweet.

We said goodbye to camp, came home and said “hello” to a new version of ourselves:
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Barbara Barrington Jones “A New You” Retreat for Women really did change my life. I came home with my priorities in order, a new perspective, and loads of confidence (the good kind, mind you. Not the kind that make you want to kick me in the shin)… I went expecting a few days alone with my mom and maybe a cute new haircut, and I came away with a brand new take on life.

Have I told you that you should go?
You should.
GO!

A New You Retreat -Pt. IV

The next morning, mom and I braved the lobby without any make up on and without our hair done.  We took some “before” pictures and then we waited patiently for the limo.  I was getting some color done, so I left before my mom.  For the first time since we’d been there, we parted ways.  As silly as it may sound, I got a little emotional watching her walk away.  I felt the exact same rush of emotions I felt years and years ago when my mom dropped me off for a 2 week band camp.
Our driver looked just like a limo driver should look:

Once inside, I HAD to snap some pictures. It didn’t matter that I had no clue who these women were… it was my FIRST limo ride, for cryin’ out loud!

The limo dropped us off at:

Anyone who lives in the Lehi/Salt Lake area NEEDS to know that I have some SWEET coupons for this specific salon that I can’t use because I’m an AZ outcast.
So if you want them, leave a comment. or text me. or facebook me. or email me.
Or skype.
Man, technology is irritating. Will we never have any privacy? (Am I the only one who wants to pronounce it “pih-vih-cee?)

I sat in my chair,
With my ultra long hair…
Magical Britney came and asked me what I wanted done.
I said, “I don’t know! I don’t know if my hair looks good long or short.”
She said, “I like the length. I’ve been trying to grow mine out for a long time.”
I said, “I’m putty in your hands, Britney. My budget is $100.”
Her eyes lit up, she ran her fingers through my hair and then asked, “Can I spend it all?”
And I said, “Yes!”
Because, really. When am I ever going to do this again?

My hair results you’ve already seen. But here they are again anyway.

ASIDE from getting hair and make-up done, we also got a neck massage, a scalp massage AND a hand massage. I could live in that salon! The products are all natural, so they’re healthier for your hair.
The stuff on the right is at the TIP TOP of my wish list. It helps your hair to blow dry faster and it does about half of your work for you. I’m jonesin’ for some:

Diane Workman, on the right, was my counselor. WHAT a beautiful pair of ladies!

The girl who did my make up was named Autumn. She also did my mom’s.

As she put mascara on me, she complimented me on my eye lashes.
“Thanks, I grew them myself,” I said.
“You have such a green thumb,” she replied. And I giggled and almost messed her make up application up. But I couldn’t help it.
After my make-up was done, my group snagged some lunch and then went to meet the limo. HOWEVER, Barbara Barrington Jones HERSELF stopped me and was talking to me. I didn’t want to leave, and I decided I’d catch up with my group a little later.
Except I got lost in the mall instead.
So I went back to the salon and waited for my mom. Yay! I got mom back!

Our salon day ran a little longer than expected, and we were going to be late for our afternoon color and style classes, so Barbara Barrington Jones HERSELF set us up in limo with Joseph.

We rushed back in the LIMO:

Did I mention that they also gave us each a rose on our way out of the salon?

We made it back and didn’t miss anything important in the classes. I thought I’d be able to fit the salon and our color/style classes into one post… but I’m going to do a different post all together for those classes.
That night (just like the night before) all the ladies that had gone to salon lined up, and Barbara Barrington Jones HERSELF walked around and talked to each one of us.

Here’s me with my MAM and ontees:

Tomorrow will be the last post about the retreat. Are you sick of hearing about it yet?
I’m not!

You should go next year!

A New You Retreat -Pt. III

The second day of the retreat, we split up into separate groups.  My aunties all went to the salon in limos, and mom and I stayed behind to take some classes.  The first class we took was on Balanced Health and it was taught by Dr. Stan Gardner.

He fed us all GREAT information that I have tucked away in my beautiful notebook. My only regret was that we didn’t get enough TIME with the doc! I could have easily sat at his feet for three hours. One great tip he gave us that I’ll pass onto you is this: have a glass of water with added fiber (think Metamucil) at least 15 minutes before eating, and it will help keep you from over eating.
Simple!
Here’s a short exercise he passed on that is HIGHLY effective.

While doing this, it’s important to remember not to squeeze the finger… just hold it. There is an emotion tied to each of our five fingers.
The thumb is connected with worry.
The pointer finger is connected with fear.
The flip-off finger is connected with anger (go figure!).
The ring finger is connected with grief.
The pinky finger is connected with pretense (or the feelings that go along with pretending to be something you are not).

After his amazing (and much too short) lesson, we were sent to lunch. Imagine eating lunch after a session like that! My mind was all a’blur with thoughts like…
Is there enough vegetables?
Am I overeating?
Too many toxins?
And on and on…

Luckily, the food came from a place that doesn’t use any sugar, and all of their food is made out of the healthiest stuff they can get. So we ate worry free -and we didn’t even have to hold our thumbs.

After lunch, we met back in the upstairs room of the dinosaur museum and listen to Darin Knowles speak on motivation.

Darin helped to give us the tools we need to take ALL of the information we picked up during the three days (and there was A LOT) and put it to good use when we got home. He was passionate about what he was talking about, and it was easy to listen to him. It’s really easy to listen to anyone who is passionate about what they’re doing. At the end of his stellar lesson, he explained to us how hard it is for men to express themselves fully to women because they don’t feel the full range of emotions like women do. He said he once heard a song that he felt described his feelings best, and he asked us all to close our eyes, imagine that everyone we loved (kids, spouse, siblings, parents…) was standing in a circle around us and singing this song. It seems REALLY cliche to have a group of women absolutely WEEPING over a Celine Dion song, but you know what? It really spoke to us and got us the message that we needed.

After a short break during which we used up all of the toilet paper in the bathrooms (drying our tears, okay?) we all came back to the big room and were taught a lesson in poise by a woman named Shauna Ockey. I wanted her dress.

She’s from Canada, and I just have to say: every one of the great people who taught us came and taught for FREE. AND they paid their own air fare. Amazing.
Every speaker linked their topics back to the gospel and kept Christ at the center of their teachings which was awesome.
Shauna gave us the 5 signs of a well kept woman. Here they are:
#1) Hair
*clean
*well kept

#2) Face
*clean
*Teeth brushed

#3) Fingernails
*All the same length
*dirt cleaned out

#4) Clothing
*In good repair
*Clean

#5) Well Groomed

She also taught us the proper way to stand and told us that we needed to practice, so I did. I practiced all day that day and the next and the next and I’m STILL practicing! At first, it made my back ache like crazy, but now it’s getting used to it and thank goodness! My posture isn’t the greatest, and it feels good to know I’m training it back into it’s proper place.
After teaching us about poise, she gave us an etiquette lesson. The next night, as we sat eating dinner, there were a slideshow of picture being projected onto the wall behind me. I was starving, but I wanted to see the slideshow… SO I stuck a fork in my chicken, turned around in my seat and then just took bites out of my chicken as I watched. After a few minutes, I turned around to return my chicken to my plate to find that SHAUNA was sitting directly across the table from me.
GAH!
I don’t think she noticed on account of the slideshow. Here’s hopin!
She quoted President Hinckley in the end:
“Of all the creations of the Almighty, there is none more beautiful, none more inspiring than a lovely daughter of God who walks in virtue with an understanding of why she should do so, who honors and respects her body as a thing sacred and divine, who cultivates her mind and constantly enlarges the horizon of her understanding, who nurtures her spirit with everlasting truth.”

That night, we had an inspiring evening devotional. Barbara Barrington Jones talked a little bit about balance. She told us to draw a triangle on the page we were taking notes on. At the top of the triangle, we wrote the word “brain” on one bottom corner we wrote the word “physical body” on the other bottom corner we wrote the word “spiritual health.” She told us EACH of those three needed constant nurturing, but the KEY to success was not only nurturing all of those three but…
(she then had us draw a circle inside of our triangle and write the word “service” in it)
SERVING!

The best part about the evening (aside from getting the secrets of success, I mean) was getting to see my aunts after they’d spent most of the day at the salon.

See how pretty?  (her not me.  I hadn’t gotten my salon day, yet.  In fact, I’d spent the better part of the day bawling over Celine Dion songs.)


That night after Barbara’s devotional, we were able to listen to a concert given by Jessie Funk:

She is so purdy…

Mom answered one of her trivia questions right (how many liters are in a gallon?) and won a CD:

After her concert was over, I bull-rushed her and asked her if I could snap a picture of her hair.

Cutest style ever! I didn’t want to forget it because I’m going to try it out just as soon as I get my hands on a cute headband.

The next day, mom and I went to the salon. More on that later.
Remember how I told you we were going to play with water balloons for our FHE? Well, we did.
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The boys were ALL about it. I had fun, too. Not as much fun as the boys… what is it about throwing something and making it break that just thrills a boy?
Lacy thought the whole idea was stinking.
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Throwing balloons chuck full of water at PEOPLE so they’ll get WET?! It’s attack! Cruelty!

Being the boy he is, my husband threw a water balloon at a bird perched on a fence.
And instead of watching it fly off, like he thought would happen, he watched it fall.
PLOP.
And it never flew away.
So he got his gloves on and went looking for it:
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He spotted it hopping around on the ground with a broken wing, and he tried to catch it. It hopped under some branches, so my husband tried to flush it out with a stick:
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Almost an hour went by, and we still couldn’t find the bird. So he got TWO sticks:
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FINALLY, we got the bird:
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My husband wouldn’t give up. Behind all that “hey-let’s-throw-a-water-balloon-at-a-bird-har-har” facade, there’s really a nice man who cares enough to catch and care for the bird he broke.
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At least until he goes to work. Now it’s ME who has to fish it out from under the stove.
Help!
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I lost the water balloon fight.
And to tie this post up in a nice bow, here’s a cute picture:
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A New You Retreat -Part II

I forgot to share this picture from yesterday. Apparently, the airline tickets couldn’t fit my entire middle name (Gayle), so they just used the first three letters:
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After Tia dropped us off, we checked in.

The majority of our classes and all of our devotionals were held in the upstairs room at a dinosaur museum. It seems like a crazy place to have a retreat, but it ended up being the perfect size to fit our group.

I didn’t get many pictures of the first day because we were so busy! We were each given a notebook to take notes in, and I used up nearly half of it in 3 days!
Here’s a picture of it:
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They made the picture of Christ removable so we could take it home and frame it if we wanted to. Genius!

We sat in the upstairs room of dinosaur museum and SOAKED up the words from the speakers:

Mrs. Barbara herself!
We broke for lunch. Mom and I took a short walk into the gardens below the motel. We were surprised to find that we were the ONLY ones in the garden.
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We ate our delicious lunch in a large gazebo and listened to the waterfalls behind us.

The first day, I learned something completely eye-opening. A beautiful woman named Cynthia said something along the lines of “don’t talk about yourself constantly. People aren’t interested.”
How long have you been reading my blog? Okay, so you KNOW all I talk about is myself. And it’s interesting to me! I just happen to have the audacity to think everyone thinks it’s interesting.
But they don’t.
Cuz it’s not.
Using this vital information (which you think would be obvious, but apparently not [to me]), I stopped talking about myself, and I started asking probing questions to others.

Given the title of my blog, you know how much I love stories. I will never, ever tire of Netflix because it’s full of stories! Old stories, new stories, true stories, blue stories! I love to hear about people and their personal stories. On the shuttle ride back to the airport from Thanksgiving Point, I asked our driver, Eric, where he met his wife. His reply?
“We actually met at BYU. Then we got married.”
What?
BLAH! I jeered his naked report and asked for more.
“Well what do you want to know?” He asked, defensively, “I could tell you more, but we’d have to drive to Idaho and back!”
Well, if I had time and money I’d take that trip!

After getting my hair and make up done at the salon, I sat on the floor next to my hand bag and struck up a conversation with a woman sitting next to me. I expected to exchange light pleasantries and unexpectedly found myself riveted to the mall floor, letting one woman change my life through her story of how she came to adopt two adults into her family… of how she gave birth to 14 children… of how her youngest son had skipped two grades and was on his way to Julliard at 17.
The entire week went like this! Think of how much I’ve missed out on because I didn’t have the smarts to shut my face!
But I digress…
On the first day, mom and I were introduced to two lovely ladies:
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Ethel and Mary Jane. Yes, that’s a creeper picture. Yes, it’s not the last.
They had a cute black car that they drove to and from the museum to the motel and they were sweet enough to give us a ride.
We fell in love with them. Angels, angels, angels.

They had to leave early on account of Ethel having issues with her leg, but I’m glad to have known them. Very, very glad.

That’s all I have time for today. The fun really started the next day, but as I’ve been sitting here typing away, my house has been glaring at me. It’s been neglected.
We went camping this weekend, remember? We happened to come home from the camping trip with a big carton of water balloons. We also happened to pick up about 5 gallons of muck on our car.
Tonight also happens to be Family Home Evening.
I’m thinking we put the water balloon, the car, and Family Home Evening Together. One big water fight later, we should have a clean car and a bonded family.
Right?
Either way, I’m totally doing it.