It's been over a year since I have written anything here.
I blame Facebook.
Every quip or funny story I have to offer ends up in a quick status update on my Facebook profile. I wonder if these women who keep a blog also have a presence on Facebook and Twitter and Pinterest and all the other avenues of communication we have available to us?
At any rate, since my last posting, Grace we added Lucy Doris to the family on June 6, 2011, Caleb started wearing underpants (his term, not mine) and Grace entered kindergarten.
I'm ashamed. While my life is well-documented on the social network, I plan on treating this space better. It needs some attention, and the writer in me needs an outlet.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
The hope is there
Grace has a love-hate relationship with food. She likes the idea of a lot of things: beans, avocados, broccoli, etc. She wants to try them, and then when it comes right down to actually taking a bite, she backs out.
One of those items is tacos. I know it sounds lame, but Jon and I really miss tacos. We used to eat them all the time. But since Grace came along, and she didn't like them, it seemed like such a hassle to create two meals, so we just kind of gave up on making them.
We finally got her to try a quesadilla — I think it was the name that put her off of them, because what's not to like? It's essentially just cheese — so tacos are back in the rotation.
Today, I asked Grace what she wanted for dinner.
Me: Grace, what should we fix for dinner?
Grace: Tacos! Tacos! Tacos! I hope I try one.
Me, too... me, too.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Does advertising work?
Every year in March we do Best of Utah County awards - best Mexican restaurant, best electrician, etc. With a few holes to fill, we decided to put a house ad announcing a special section coming out in April called Backyard & Blooms. This is the logo designed by the marketing graphic artist, Tiff. In the ad was just the logo, with a coming in April in the Daily Herald. Simple, right?
It appeared a couple of times in the 14-page ballot. But apparently, readers thought it was an actual business. Backyard & Blooms got voted the best landscaper and best lawn care service multiple times - at current count, it's in the double digits.
To me, it means a few things. People are looking at the ads. Pay attention, advertisers. The pretty ads stand out. Your ad will get looked at, especially if it's nice to look at.
Second, people are willing to vote for a company they've never heard of, and people don't read the entire ad. Just the big, pretty parts.
It could also say something else about the readers, but it's not really something I can post on my "family-friendly" blog.
One more thing to take from this: Someone should start a landscaping business called Backyard & Blooms immediately.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Shoe shopping
While killing time the other day, Grace and Caleb and I went into Nordstrom Rack. Grace wanted to look at shoes (she's been under the delusion that she needs a new pair for a while now) so we went to look.
Both kids shed their shoes and began trying on different pairs. All the shoes were fastened together with one of those bulky magnetic mechanisms so once the shoes were on feet, it was hard for them to stand up and couldn't walk. Good, I suppose for keeping kids from taking off in shoes; bad for parents who want to see if the shoes actually stay on when kids walk in them. But that's not the point of my story.
Grace found a pair of Merrell sandals in blue. She kept going back to those between the pink-sequined tenneys, the white dress shoes and the black flats.
Caleb was in heaven trying on shoe after shoe, and showing off his feet. While he liked the pink crocs with the lambs wool lining and others more suited for Grace, he did manage to mix in a few boy styles, like these really cute blue converse all-stars. If he had his way, he would have left with camo-colored crocs with the lambs wool lining. Poor guy doesn't know my severe hatred for crocs. They will never be allowed. Never. At least in my presence.
This went on calmly for a goodo half-hour or 45 minutes. Grace's prized sandals only ended up being $11; there were no shoes for Caleb though; the cool black/yellow Nikes weren't on sale, just the white with an ugly purple swoosh.
We left without incident, even making it through the jewelry department in a fairly decent amount of time (Grace could spend hours looking at racks of necklaces, bracelets, rings and hair accessories. I'm not exaggerating.)
Not sure where she gets that from. Not from me.
Both kids shed their shoes and began trying on different pairs. All the shoes were fastened together with one of those bulky magnetic mechanisms so once the shoes were on feet, it was hard for them to stand up and couldn't walk. Good, I suppose for keeping kids from taking off in shoes; bad for parents who want to see if the shoes actually stay on when kids walk in them. But that's not the point of my story.
Grace found a pair of Merrell sandals in blue. She kept going back to those between the pink-sequined tenneys, the white dress shoes and the black flats.
Caleb was in heaven trying on shoe after shoe, and showing off his feet. While he liked the pink crocs with the lambs wool lining and others more suited for Grace, he did manage to mix in a few boy styles, like these really cute blue converse all-stars. If he had his way, he would have left with camo-colored crocs with the lambs wool lining. Poor guy doesn't know my severe hatred for crocs. They will never be allowed. Never. At least in my presence.
This went on calmly for a goodo half-hour or 45 minutes. Grace's prized sandals only ended up being $11; there were no shoes for Caleb though; the cool black/yellow Nikes weren't on sale, just the white with an ugly purple swoosh.
We left without incident, even making it through the jewelry department in a fairly decent amount of time (Grace could spend hours looking at racks of necklaces, bracelets, rings and hair accessories. I'm not exaggerating.)
Not sure where she gets that from. Not from me.
Tribute to Joyce Clark
My grandma passed away on Jan. 11. It's been nearly a month and I feel like it's just starting to take hold in me. I'm surprised at how often I think of her — things she would like, things that remind me of her, questions I want to ask about cooking or sewing or cleaning. I ripped the seam that held the zipper onto my jacket the other day. I happened to be going to visit Grandpa the next day, and found myself wishing she could sew my zipper back on. I wanted to ask her how far back the family's peonies date too. I think they came from my great-great-Grandma Hunter, or maybe Smoot, I don't know. She could tell me for sure.
I spent a great day on Antelope Island with Grandpa this week. He told me lots of stories about the buffalo roundups — the family favorite is when Image bucked him off and he got a black eye after a baby buffalo butted Image in the chest. We saw where they camped, kept the horses and stopped at a memorial for some soldiers killed in a helicopter crash in 1992. He remembered being stuck on the causeway for a few hours while emergency crews were on the scene. It killed 12 men.
I know we both had a good time and enjoyed each other's company, but I can tell he's sad, understandably, and misses his wife and friend.
Here is the tribute I wrote and read at her funeral, Jan. 14, 2010.
Weekends at Grandma and Grandpa’s house began with shredded wheat or granola, feeding the horses in too-big black galoshes with Grandpa, and almost always included a trip to Layton Hills Mall with Grandma. She usually bumped into a few people she knew.
At home, she always knew exactly where everything was. She once sent me down to the basement for something — I don’t remember what it was — and she not only told me where to find it, but described everything else on the shelves around it. I remember finding that quite remarkable once I got down to the shelves and everything was exactly as she had described.
Grandma always came prepared. One year at our yearly vacation to Deer Springs Ranch, we ended up on a sandy road after exploring some caves; we were hot, tired and hungry. A family of California tourists also were hot and tired, without water or a long walk back to their car. We all piled in the back of Grandpa’s truck for the ride back, and Grandma pulled out a cube of sharp cheddar cheese and a pocket knife, and started slicing. Cheese never tasted so good.
Grandma loved BYU football. When we were young, they had four season tickets, and they would take different people with them each week. Grandma always wore Cougar blue, complete with matching earrings. She was friendly with a lot of the people who sat nearby. We’d pass the binoculars back and forth, and she would shout things down to the field just as much as anybody else. Halftime meant a polish dog and a Sprite, and the long car ride home to Kaysville was made even longer by the post-game show on KSL (for me anyway).
Grandma loved holidays. She always dressed accordingly, with festive earrings and cute T-shirts. I don’t, however, ever remember her wearing a tacky Christmas sweater. She was much too fashionable for that. When I got older, I often found myself complimenting her shoes, or her jacket, and even wishing we were the same size. Now who ever envies their grandmother’s clothes? She had a great sense of style and always looked her best. But she was a bargain shopper — with all those trips to ZCMI, she did a lot of hunting on sales racks. My cousin Melissa and I often got to pick items out of the Clinique free gift. In fact, I never bought make-up in junior high school because I always had a steady supply of eye shadow, blush and mascara from her.
Anyone who knew Grandma, knew she loved to shop. Except for all her good friends, I think that is what she loved most about Brazil. I remember her dividing up this four huge collections of dishes — one for her and each of her daughters. Grandpa made a comment about using these dishes, and she looked at him and said “Oh, you can’t eat off these plates, there’s lead in the glaze.” I’ve never seen someone look so bewildered. But these dishes were pretty, and she had to ship them home to her girls.
She always gave thoughtful Christmas presents, the most memorable for me being a quilt. She made all the grandkids a quilt for Christmas, and when we all opened them, we all talked about when we remember our quilt being up on the frames to be tied, months before, not knowing it was meant to be ours. I think she enjoyed our reactions.
As it said in her obituary, Grandma was our fan club. She always attended even the most simple of programs as we grew up. Melissa and I graduated from high school on the same day, and Grandma went to Melissa’s and Grandpa went to mine. And I know they were both sad they couldn’t both be to both ceremonies.
I lived in Kaysville from kindergarten through 9th grade. I have spent sick days on her couch, eating her delicious buttery toast. On the last day of ninth grade, a big group of us walked from the junior high to Tasty’s. I, of course, sat in gum, which wouldn’t come out of my tan shorts. But I called Grandma, and she came and picked me up so I could change, and she took care of getting the gum out of my shorts. Then she drove me back to meet up with my friends on Main Street. For the last half of 9th grade, we lived in their basement. I saw how Grandma and Grandpa were with each other when they thought no one was around. They were kind and gentle with each other; they were affectionate and loving. They laughed together, and talked.
While they were on their mission in West Africa, Grandma and I wrote back and forth periodically. As a freshman at Utah State, it was always fun to get mail, but I really loved getting a card from her in her perfect cursive penmanship.
Over the last few months, I liked to call on my way home from work, just to talk about how things were going, tell them about my kids and work and home. And she was always interested. And she was always nervous about me talking on my cell phone while I was driving.
I will miss my grandma terribly; I will miss her passion for history and maps. I’ll miss chuckling to myself as I watched her mow the lawn on the riding lawn mower. I’ll miss her pulling weeds in her flower garden. I’ll miss her falling asleep in the chair while watching TV, her head bobbing up and down. But I know I won’t miss her love for me, because I will carry that with me until we are reunited in the next life.
I spent a great day on Antelope Island with Grandpa this week. He told me lots of stories about the buffalo roundups — the family favorite is when Image bucked him off and he got a black eye after a baby buffalo butted Image in the chest. We saw where they camped, kept the horses and stopped at a memorial for some soldiers killed in a helicopter crash in 1992. He remembered being stuck on the causeway for a few hours while emergency crews were on the scene. It killed 12 men.
I know we both had a good time and enjoyed each other's company, but I can tell he's sad, understandably, and misses his wife and friend.
Here is the tribute I wrote and read at her funeral, Jan. 14, 2010.
Weekends at Grandma and Grandpa’s house began with shredded wheat or granola, feeding the horses in too-big black galoshes with Grandpa, and almost always included a trip to Layton Hills Mall with Grandma. She usually bumped into a few people she knew.
At home, she always knew exactly where everything was. She once sent me down to the basement for something — I don’t remember what it was — and she not only told me where to find it, but described everything else on the shelves around it. I remember finding that quite remarkable once I got down to the shelves and everything was exactly as she had described.
Grandma always came prepared. One year at our yearly vacation to Deer Springs Ranch, we ended up on a sandy road after exploring some caves; we were hot, tired and hungry. A family of California tourists also were hot and tired, without water or a long walk back to their car. We all piled in the back of Grandpa’s truck for the ride back, and Grandma pulled out a cube of sharp cheddar cheese and a pocket knife, and started slicing. Cheese never tasted so good.
Grandma loved BYU football. When we were young, they had four season tickets, and they would take different people with them each week. Grandma always wore Cougar blue, complete with matching earrings. She was friendly with a lot of the people who sat nearby. We’d pass the binoculars back and forth, and she would shout things down to the field just as much as anybody else. Halftime meant a polish dog and a Sprite, and the long car ride home to Kaysville was made even longer by the post-game show on KSL (for me anyway).
Grandma loved holidays. She always dressed accordingly, with festive earrings and cute T-shirts. I don’t, however, ever remember her wearing a tacky Christmas sweater. She was much too fashionable for that. When I got older, I often found myself complimenting her shoes, or her jacket, and even wishing we were the same size. Now who ever envies their grandmother’s clothes? She had a great sense of style and always looked her best. But she was a bargain shopper — with all those trips to ZCMI, she did a lot of hunting on sales racks. My cousin Melissa and I often got to pick items out of the Clinique free gift. In fact, I never bought make-up in junior high school because I always had a steady supply of eye shadow, blush and mascara from her.
Anyone who knew Grandma, knew she loved to shop. Except for all her good friends, I think that is what she loved most about Brazil. I remember her dividing up this four huge collections of dishes — one for her and each of her daughters. Grandpa made a comment about using these dishes, and she looked at him and said “Oh, you can’t eat off these plates, there’s lead in the glaze.” I’ve never seen someone look so bewildered. But these dishes were pretty, and she had to ship them home to her girls.
She always gave thoughtful Christmas presents, the most memorable for me being a quilt. She made all the grandkids a quilt for Christmas, and when we all opened them, we all talked about when we remember our quilt being up on the frames to be tied, months before, not knowing it was meant to be ours. I think she enjoyed our reactions.
As it said in her obituary, Grandma was our fan club. She always attended even the most simple of programs as we grew up. Melissa and I graduated from high school on the same day, and Grandma went to Melissa’s and Grandpa went to mine. And I know they were both sad they couldn’t both be to both ceremonies.
I lived in Kaysville from kindergarten through 9th grade. I have spent sick days on her couch, eating her delicious buttery toast. On the last day of ninth grade, a big group of us walked from the junior high to Tasty’s. I, of course, sat in gum, which wouldn’t come out of my tan shorts. But I called Grandma, and she came and picked me up so I could change, and she took care of getting the gum out of my shorts. Then she drove me back to meet up with my friends on Main Street. For the last half of 9th grade, we lived in their basement. I saw how Grandma and Grandpa were with each other when they thought no one was around. They were kind and gentle with each other; they were affectionate and loving. They laughed together, and talked.
While they were on their mission in West Africa, Grandma and I wrote back and forth periodically. As a freshman at Utah State, it was always fun to get mail, but I really loved getting a card from her in her perfect cursive penmanship.
Over the last few months, I liked to call on my way home from work, just to talk about how things were going, tell them about my kids and work and home. And she was always interested. And she was always nervous about me talking on my cell phone while I was driving.
I will miss my grandma terribly; I will miss her passion for history and maps. I’ll miss chuckling to myself as I watched her mow the lawn on the riding lawn mower. I’ll miss her pulling weeds in her flower garden. I’ll miss her falling asleep in the chair while watching TV, her head bobbing up and down. But I know I won’t miss her love for me, because I will carry that with me until we are reunited in the next life.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Grace's "hair" brained ideas.
Grace has developed some sort of complex about her hair lately.
A few weeks ago, I asked her to go into the bathroom and comb her hair before we left for the day, and a minute later she is sobbing in front of the mirror about how she doesn't want "crazy hair." And it wasn't frustrated crying, it was despair and desperation.
A couple days after that, her hair was in a pony tail, and a little piece from the front had pulled out, and she caught sight of it in a mirror in the garage. Panicked, she ran over to me demanding that it be fixed immediately.
So lately, her whispy toddler hair is finally starting to fill in and grow a bit, so it's been easier and faster to get it fixed in the morning.
On Wednesday morning, however, she was insistent that she did not want her hair fixed, despite the fact that it had been in three different elastics the day before, and overnight had turned into this wild, poofy mop of dirty blond feathers.
When I picked her up at Bonnie's house (her baby sitter), Bonnie said she had a little tantrum about her hair because it kept getting in her face. Later that night, I asked her about it.
Me: "Grace, was your hair bugging you today?"
Grace: "Ya, it was crazy. I looked like Twist."
Me: "Who's Twist?"
Grace: "From the Fresh Beat Band."
Note: She has only watched that show on Nickelodeon a couple of times at our house, so maybe she watches it with Keshley or at Bonnie's, or maybe she just has — as I suspect she does — a freaky photographic memory. Twist is the white guy in the back. I don't know why she thought her hair looked like that. Maybe it's more "disheveled" in the actual show. Who knows.
I thought I would post a picture of the Fresh Beat Band. Just before making this post, a commercial for Fresh Beat Band came on the TV. Grace said she likes Shout the best.
"Which one is Shout?" I asked.
"The one in the red shirt."
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Grace versus Dinner
Grace took a really late nap. Usually I try and just forge through the evening and hope for an early bedtime, but it was clear that she had reached her breaking point. Sometimes she is so much like me it's frightening. She was just crying and she admitted that she didn't know why.
So I made her lay down, and I put on the TV. The last few minutes of "Curious George" were on, and then the kid shows were over, and an episode of the "Brady Bunch" came on. Peter had a crush on Jan's new classmate, but he kept making a fool of himself in front of her. So he came up with a scheme to have womanizing Greg hide in the bushes and tell him what to say, a la "Cyrano de Bergerac." No really. But then the new girl catches them and falls for Greg, so in order the get her to break up with him, he has to act like a "total rat."
Grace, of course, went right to sleep.
And slept through dinner.
We had previously invited Joe and Emilee over for ice cream sundaes, but Grace only ate a handful of M&Ms, so at 9:30, I'm trying to get her to eat something.
She said she'd eat a cheese stick -- so I got it for her and turned on "Max & Ruby" her favorite show, and my least favorite. Seriously, I'd rather watch "Barney" or a remedial math class on Channel 9.
She got as far as touching the end to her lips before she said:
"Mom, this cheese is too wiggly."
What that means, I have no idea. So I told her to think about what she would like to eat — cereal, peanut butter sandwich, yogurt — with a warning that if she didn't eat now, she couldn't eat until breakfast.
I'm in checking my email when I hear this from the family room: "Mom, I can't think."
Then she wandered in the office and said: "I can't think for breakfast."
She ate half a piece of toast, then we read books in her room until I fell asleep. Apparently she went downstairs with Jon and watched some show on the Beatles until about 11 p.m.
So I made her lay down, and I put on the TV. The last few minutes of "Curious George" were on, and then the kid shows were over, and an episode of the "Brady Bunch" came on. Peter had a crush on Jan's new classmate, but he kept making a fool of himself in front of her. So he came up with a scheme to have womanizing Greg hide in the bushes and tell him what to say, a la "Cyrano de Bergerac." No really. But then the new girl catches them and falls for Greg, so in order the get her to break up with him, he has to act like a "total rat."
Grace, of course, went right to sleep.
And slept through dinner.
We had previously invited Joe and Emilee over for ice cream sundaes, but Grace only ate a handful of M&Ms, so at 9:30, I'm trying to get her to eat something.
She said she'd eat a cheese stick -- so I got it for her and turned on "Max & Ruby" her favorite show, and my least favorite. Seriously, I'd rather watch "Barney" or a remedial math class on Channel 9.
She got as far as touching the end to her lips before she said:
"Mom, this cheese is too wiggly."
What that means, I have no idea. So I told her to think about what she would like to eat — cereal, peanut butter sandwich, yogurt — with a warning that if she didn't eat now, she couldn't eat until breakfast.
I'm in checking my email when I hear this from the family room: "Mom, I can't think."
Then she wandered in the office and said: "I can't think for breakfast."
She ate half a piece of toast, then we read books in her room until I fell asleep. Apparently she went downstairs with Jon and watched some show on the Beatles until about 11 p.m.
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