Special Things About Me

So, I'm not particularly good at sports. Running, sure; but anything that requires some degree of co-ordination or skill? Two thumbs down on me and my abilities. In fact, one time I think a boy who had previously shown a fair amount of interest in me, completely lost that interest when he foolhardily had one of our dates end in a soccer match with several other couples. I think my awkwardness was just too too much. Fortunately, Mike submitted me to no such humiliating tests. I guess I passed all of his tests -- which mostly had to do with liking the animal section at county fairs, recognizing at least a little bit that his Ford Bronco was cool, and being a good kisser (oops hee hee -- just kidding). Oh, but that just reminded me of something. The other day, Mike and I were talking about one of us running a kissing booth -- I don't remember if it was going to be me or him in the booth. I also don't remember if one of us was threatening to be in it, or threatening to make the other person be in it, or where on earth or even why this kissing booth was going to be. Huh. We're funny.

Anyway, despite my inability to play co-ordination involved sports (is there a better name for those sports? What are "contact sports"? Does that just mean football?), as I was saying, despite my abilities in that area (or, my lacking abilities rather), I can actually play a fairly mean round of Ping-Pong. That's right -- Ping-Pong. I'm not half bad. Oh, and Badminton too (except I always thought Badminton was Badmitton). But that's it. Wouldn't you think that would somehow transfer to the tennis court (I'm so confused here -- do I capitalize tennis? I just capitalized Badminton, so maybe . . . but tennis seams so . . . general of a term . . .). Please though, let's stay on track. Why Ping-Pong when I don't know that I have ever once returned a tennis ball served to me? Quirky.

Ha! Did you hear that? Quirky. Maybe its a quirk. Remember how I used to be so sad because everyone was blogging about all their quirks, and I couldn't think of even one cool quirk? I tried, but the ones I came up with were lame, and Mike told me he'd watch me for quirks but then either lost interest or found none to report. But, I thought of THREE quirks today. How about that! Here. Have a read.

1. I have to fold the sheet over the edge of the blankets and then pull them all up close to my face when I sleep. It isn't preferring the sheet next to me so much. It more has something to do with greatly preferring a smooth rounded edge as opposed to trying to snuggle all these separate squared off blanket edges. I find myself waking up often through the night folding the sheet over better and then having to pull the blankets all up with a tug to still keep them up by my face despite all my folding over of everything.

2. I can't leave Costco with out buying a churro. It is strange to me that anyone actually can. I don't know how it is that my own Mike can go to Costco and return home churroless himself.

3. I doodle on anything I am writing on. You know, like when you are jotting down a phone number or some directions and then there are little stars and tiny vases of flowers popping up all around the directions as you continue chatting on the phone? Maybe everyone does that. Today, I was digging through a drawer looking for a pen when I found a loose scrap of paper with a phone number and next to it something that looked like balloons with very thick fat strings and then, oddly, a doodle of what could only be described as a cabbage wearing a party hat. Another paper with something I was supposed to remember written on it also contained some type of a massive flowery/star explosion hemmed in, thankfully, by heavy steel bars.

Anyway, discovering all these insignificant trifles about myself has been making me feel rather special -- which is, perhaps, odd since there is absolutely nothing one bit important or special about them, but that's the way it is with our society these days. It's all mixed up about what is and isn't special and we are all supposed to make everyone feel special for not very special things. But, I suppose that is way better than the olden days when, as far as I understand it, it was every teachers job to not only tell students they were absolutely not special, but that they would, "never amount to anything," -- followed, of course, by a good rap on the knuckles with a ruler just to drive the point home. Now that I think about it though, it seems like every great president or Albert Einsteiny sort got told just that by their teachers growing up, so maybe there is something to be said for it.

I don't know where that leaves us with this post, but I'm through now. Oh except for . . . no, except for nothing. I've got nothing else. Goodnight.

An After School Car Ride Home

Goldie: Mom, why do some people eat all kinds of animals?

Me: Oh, I don't know. Sometimes they do in poorer countrys because they don't have much money to spend on food.

Goldie: Cassandra's dad eats all kinds of animals (Cassandra being a girl in her Kindergarten class) -- like baby chicks, and, (here, she looked at me with wild eyes) he even ate their dog!

Me: Umm . . . well . . . huh.

Goldie's Umbrella

It would cost the entire last five dollars of the birthday money from her grandma -- the birthday money that she had spent or bestowed on others slowly and judiciously since last July, but after several days of being able to think of nothing but the green frog umbrella she'd seen on our last shopping trip, it became clear that it would be worth the cost. Maybe worth any cost.

So off we went to the store to get it. There were a few moments of panic when she couldn't find the five dollar bill in her little plastic wallet, and I had to assure her it would be just the same if I paid for it and she gave the five dollars to me when it was found. (And it was later found -- folded into the smallest dollar bill square imaginable and crammed into a tiny zippered pocket in her blue corduroy purse).

The weather, which had been in the 70's, quickly obliged by swapping to a blustery and rainy 40 degrees this morning. I dropped the kids off at school mere feet from the entrance where Goldie spent more time than it would have taken to get out of the rain by simply running into the school, standing by our car opening up her umbrella. She then walked at a snails pace to the school door -- pausing to wave with her umbrella a few times.After school, the first thing I saw was her little green umbrella burst open at the door as out she came -- twirling and spinning it in order to help it achieve its utmost attention attracting abilities.

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Then, during lunch, she kept it open next to her plate on the counter where she fed it small bits of cheese.What a happy little thing a five year old and a green frog umbrella can be.

Little Man Gets a Haircut

Look how silly he looks here with the sun in his tiny little eyes. It makes me want to run scoop him up and kiss every inch of exposed skin -- even though he'd only allow it for one tiny fraction of a second because he needs to be about his busy little activities and has no time for holdings and snugglings and the like.And here he is at a point when the rigours of his active little life became simply too much too handle. Rest well sleepy head. It almost hurts I am so in love with you.

Sisters' Trip

Mike has earned 300 BILLION bonus points! And I don't even know what that really means for him, but between that and the one point I once awarded him for having butcher paper right when I needed it, he is waaaaay ahead of me in the points department. At least 300 billion and one points ahead as he has yet to award me any points -- verbally anyway . . . it's possible that in his heart and mind he has awarded me many many points . . . possible, but not probable.

Anyway, these points are awarded to him because not only did he watch all five of our kids (one of whom had multiple bouts of throwing up and diarrhea) while I was gone for a few days, carting them to scouts and primary activities and school, etc., but he did it with a smile! No wait, I don't actually know if he was smiling. He might have been frowning . . . or maybe just holding a poker face. What I meant to say is: not only did he handle all that admirably, but he had the house clean and EVEN laundry done when I got back! That's it, as I typed that I realized I need to up him another 100 billion points. So, he's at 400 billion and one! I hope that by giving him points so freely, I am not making his points as meaningless as the Russian ruble. Hmm. I'll have to think further on my point system.

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Anyway, I was off on the annual Spring sister's trip. It is really a sisters/sisters-in-law/older nieces/mom trip, and annual though it may be, between having babies, living away, and so forth, I haven't been since 2004! Ahhhh it was dreamy. Honestly, to have a few days of simply doing whatever suited my fancy -- no one needing or expecting anything from me -- was quite wonderful. I really don't even remember at all the last time I had even one entire day to myself. Thanks Mike and thanks family that I went with!

Oh, and here, for your viewing pleasure:

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Sister-in-law Missy (my running heroine), sister Megan and sister-in-law Debbie at dinner.

Niece Tessa posing with the Old Navy mannequins in hopes of winning $100,000. Niece Ashley's boy Israel checking out the real honest to goodness Native American. Most of the girls hiked to some petroglyphs on Saturday morning. I didn't go because I am a bad person (good people always opt to go hike and be in nature as opposed to sleep in and go to the gym). Apparently this man was beating his drums and telling them all about "the white man" trying to steal their land. When I showed Penny this picture, she asked if the Indian man was me. When I said no, she said, "Yah, Mom!! I want it to be!"Here I was supposed to be looking serious and showing off how Megan did my hair, but then Kristen made me laugh -- which I think turned out much cuter.Heading off shopping. Nieces Kristen and Ashley (with Israel), Me, niece Tessa, sister-in-law Stefanie, and niece Karin.My mom and Kristen.Sister-in-law Stef and sister Amy at dinner.Megan had a headache, so Amy broke out her first aid kit. Megan being so righteous (yes, that is her reading her scriptures while the rest of us are doing who knows what -- well, we know what I was doing -- snapping pics).Megan being so wicked. Actually, I don't know if she is wicked or not, but at the restaurant we were passing my camera around for people to take self portraits and when we looked at Megan's, it was quickly apparent that she was a ghost. Seriously, you can see her chair through her!! How does that happen? I told her she was wicked because I reasoned that ghost = evil. She disagreed, however, and said that she was in the process of being translated . . . and thus, extra righteous.Ha! She wishes! Look at her in this picture. I think that settles it.Nieces Tessa and Karin -- the two youngest girls on the trip.Missy and Megan.Tess and I waiting for the others to finish up at the Indian jewelry store.Still waiting.Shopping. Here Amy is using her phone to take a picture of the extensions Tessa just purchased so she could send the picture to her daughter to see if she wanted some. Me taking a picture of her taking a picture? It is all too much!Megan and Kristen checking out perfume? I think.More getting ready to go shopping -- though Ashley is now out of the picture while sister-in-law Debbie is in. My mother has also joined us here. Me with Amy and Megan -- the only two blood sisters on this trip with me. Although . . . I suppose I could become "blood sisters" with the rest of my nieces and sister-in-laws if we cut our thumbs and rub them together. I don't know that blood mixing is smiled upon much these days though.More fierceness. These three nieces are also sisters. Notice the lovely eyes on Kristen and Karin that I made up for them because I love make up (which also makes me a bad person).

Well, that's all for now. Seriously though, what a lovely time.

Cindergirl!

Peel the potatoes!

You're nearly three. It's time you earned your keep!

And you! Quit idling. Get helping with the potatoes!And while your at it, make some brownies! This instant!

(Alright, Penny actually insisted on peeling the potatoes. Mike had to tell her how wonderful each "finished" potato was before discreetly peeling the remainder himself. As for Daisy, I had actually told her she couldn't make brownies just yet. . . . Next thing I know, she's making brownies. Stinker. Of course it is hard to be too upset at the kind of disobedience that results in brownies. Mike halfheartedly tried to mumble something about her not getting to eat any brownies, but we both knew we'd never hold to such a punishment.)

Daisy + The Trampoline

Inevitably = Some Awesome Pictures

Notes from Spying

I chanced upon this piece of paper in Daisy's room the other day. I wasn't sure what it was all about. Things she was doing? Things that had happened? After she returned from school I asked her about it. She, rather sheepishly, admitted that what I was holding was a copy of the things she had noted down while spying on Goldie the other day. I love so many things about this. Daisy sleuthing about -- carefully noting each happening -- not passing judgement yet -- simply making sure no detail was missed. But, what I also love is how perfectly she captured the essence of Goldie in her few sparse words. First Goldie is whining, then she is happy; next she is making Penny sad, and, of a sudden, hopping. She departs from Goldie for one small moment to note that Penny now appears to be happy. Then, back to Goldie who is not listening to Abe, and then crying, and then going inside due to a bloody nose.

Chicks

When you change your blog name to a name about chickens being in your window well, soon EVERYONE wants a piece of your window well chicken (I don't mean a piece to eat . . . though some of you might want that, but it's not happening). Or, if they actually don't want anything to do with your window well chicken, they want something to do with your other chickens. Chickens you probably don't even have!!Chickens that are more chicks than chickens.

Chicks that they assume you have just because you have a chicken in your window well. But, when they make those crazy requests, you don't even respond because you are above that sort of thing. You won't have people left and right assuming that just because you have one full grown chicken, you likely have every other type of chicken -- including not full grown chickens. But then, you humble yourself when you realize that they know you far better than you know yourself . . . or at least know your husband better than you do . . . or just even a tiny fraction as well as you do . . . which is enough . . . enough to know that one chicken in your window well assuredly means more chickens/chicks will soon follow.Well hello, honey, aren't you handsome.(Look, that little one thinks he's an eagle . . . how disappointed he's going to be when he learns the truth someday)

Here is the funny email Mike sent to his family about it:

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I have been twice blessed this Easter season. First, I purchased six baby chicks which have been a delight to all. Second, one of the chicks have been prominently featured in a blog header http://atypicalmormonchick.wordpress.com Nancy was the photographer so she does deserve some credit. I have great expectations for this chick, but of course I love them all in their own way.

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Mike

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That blog link is to a friend's blog. She was starting a blog about her day to day life as a "Mormon Chick" and was the one who requested I send her a picture of a chick with a Book of Mormon BEFORE I even had a chick! OR a Book of Mormon (oh wait, we do have quite a few of those . . . though, Daisy did lose hers . . . and Mike thought he lost his for a week til I found it under my dresser where I accused him of hiding it so we wouldn't be able to read it together).

Anyway, I feel like I am a famous photographer now what with my chick displayed so prominently in someones blog header. In case you didn't click on the link, this is the picture she used.

Look how cute our little chick looks. No wonder Mike's so proud of the little fella (the "little fella" might actually be a girl).

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Here are a few others I took (before trying to blur the lines in the paper out with our paint program). Mike's favorite is the last one because he thinks those two tiny little gray chicks are the cutest things he's ever seen (excluding our children I assume).

They are pretty tiny and I think they are in constant danger of having their eyes pecked out by the bullying bigger chicks.

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He isn't certain of the variety of chicken they are, but told me they might grow up to be Blue Cochins -- which look something like this:

He also told me that that is what we are too strongly hope for because if they don't turn out to be Blue Cochins, then they might turn out to be Silkies . . . which look like this:and would clearly make us the complete laughing stock of any and all chicken owners.