If, At First

Olivia in the throes of ecstasy over the last piece of lemon pie.  It was so delicious she nearly lost consciousness.

I am try, try, againing.

I ate a slice of lemon cake for breakfast this morning.  And was almost immediately sick.  I had forgotten that my blood sugar was bargain-basement low and the shock of all that lemon-sugary goodness nearly sent me into a coma.

I tried to breathe through the sugar high.  And as the world went spinning I firmly reminded myself (again) that I need protein first thing in the morning.  Lemon cake has surprisingly little protein content.

Clearly, I'm a slow learner. 

Do you remember this argument about the quilt I am working on.

CIM won.  (Big surprise.)  Almost as soon as I finished the post, actually. 

Which is a real shame, since I think my life has taken a steady decline since then.  And I should know better.

I am madly working on what, I think, is the fourth version of this quilt.  (I've lost track.)  I keep telling myself that this is the fourth and final try, but (let's be honest) that is probably just wishful thinking.

But wait, you say (full of genuine concern), isn't this supposed to be done this week?

I nod my head tremulously.

But then I rally, remembering that this is how I do everything.  Pull the rabbit out of the hat.  And then kiss my husband fervently for enduring another week of crazy.   (Apparently, I'm a very good kisser.)

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some sewing to do before that cake wears off.

The Coming Storm

I'm just shy of crazy.

Just.

It's an uncomfortable place to be.  Knowing how close you are to really, truly losing it.  My toes are testing the water today.  It might not be so bad to just jump in.  It could save an ungracious fall.

This morning, on my way to make pancakes, I walked past the quilt I am working on for the hospital benefit, spread all over the kitchen table.  Right away CIM piped up.

"Oh my gosh, that is so ugly.  You've got to do something."

RIM:  It's fine.

CIM:  Are you kidding.  What's with that border fabric?

RIM:  I'm sure it will be fine once it's done.

CIM:  You always say that, and it's never true.  Remember the time we painted the living room chartreuse and I kept saying how bad it looked and you kept saying, "Just wait until we get the tape off,"  and then, "Just wait until we get the furniture back in here."  Remember that?  That was a disaster.

RIM:  Why do you always bring that up?  What can't you just let that go?  Every time you get the least bit jumpy, I have to hear about the living room again.

CIM:  You just don't like it when I'm right.

RIM:  (under her breath)  Luckily that rarely happens.

CIM:  I heard that.  I'm standing right. here.

RIM:  (with a huff)  Look.  It will be fine.  You've just stared at it too long.  Let's just keep going.

CIM:  I know you think I'm crazy, but I know what I'm talking about.

RIM:  (not even trying to hide her doubts, rolls her eyes)  Whatever.

CIM:  Just because I've had a few questionable moments in the past, you think everything I say is crazy.

RIM:  I'm done having this conversation. 

CIM:  I'm just getting started.

RIM:  (silent)

CIM:  I know you can hear me.

RIM:  (silent)

CIM:  And you know I'm right.

RIM:  (still silent, but clamping her jaw)

CIM:  Fine.  But you're going to come crawling back here in about a week, begging for a maelstrom.  Don't say I didn't warn you.  Then we'll see who's crazy.

Word of the First Three Months: Harbinger

These "word of the week" posts used to come weekly.  (Was I ever that together?)  Actually, if you'll remember, I did do a harbinger post here, but just never got around to making it official and posting it on my sidebar.  So there.  And anyway, it turns out that the universe had a reason for me not getting it together earlier.  You can read about that here.

I'll bet you had no idea I was that important in the universe.

You stand corrected.

Anyway, here is a quick post about one of my favorite words.

harbinger  /n./  a person or thing that comes before to announce or give an indication of what follows.  herald.  anything regarded as a token of what is to follow.  a foretaste of what is to come.  augury.  precursor.  forerunner.  omen.  portent.

harbinger /n./  1.  Last night Olivia had her first softball game ever.  David has been pushing me to sign her up for years.  He finally wore me down and I reluctantly signed her up.  We all sat on the bench last night and cheered her on and watched her get two base hits, an RBI, and make an inning-ending play with a nice throw from second base.  As I watched her glowing from the infield, I had the thought that this night was only a harbinger of hundreds of others I will likely spend under the lights, sitting on an aluminum bench, cheering her on.  David just grinned at me all night.  It must be taxing to always be right.

And now, for her, and her grandparents, here is her first hit during her first at-bat: 

Another harbinger, I suspect.

harbinger /n./  2.  As I was cheering for Olivia, I was working on some applique for a quilt we are auctioning off at the Spring Tea hospital benefit in May. 

The lady behind me asked me what I was working on.  When I explained it was the beginning of a tree and that I still need to add leaves and flowers, she shook her head and said, "Wow.  That's going to take a while."

I smiled and agreed.

And then my smile promptly faded as I remembered that it's supposed to be done in two weeks and that I'm running out of time.  And fast.  About the same time I remembered the invitations for the event (that I was supposed to seal and stamp and send) were still sitting in the back of my car (unsealed, unstamped, and unsent).  I prayed desperately that neither of these were harbingers for the success (or failure) of the actual event itself. 

harbinger  /n./  3.  Next week my kids all have standardized testing.  And the harbingers of stress and anxiety have already started in earnest.  The AIMS tests have made their way into the children's prayers, and every day I get another note home saying how important it is that my children get plenty of rest, have a good breakfast, are well-groomed (what?), and are propped up with positive encouragement.  A couple of days ago I told the kids that I would be gone for part of the week for quilt retreat.  They nearly came undone, certain that this disruption in their schedule was a harbinger for disaster on their tests.  And I am wondering how keeping our teachers and schools "accountable" has resulted in creating inordinate amounts of stress for my children.  Good grief.

harbinger /n./  4.  We spent part of our spring break in Santa Barbara last week visiting some very good friends.  I keep meaning to post all about our hours of freedom together, and maybe even make a movie, but haven't found the time amidst the demands of regular life.  Perhaps this is the real harbinger that our break is really and truly over.

If You Think That's Bad

Some of you have been waiting for a new post

(imagine my chagrin)

but I have been too busy sitting impatiently at urgent care and peeing in cups and feeling absolutely miserable 

(imagine my consternation)

to want to write anything

(imagine David's surprise).

But if you think you've been put out, imagine the people around here waiting for clean underwear or something besides cold cereal for breakfast.

Yesterday I had the thought that I am too busy.  This occurred to me when I was supposed to be in four places at once and only wanted to be in bed.  Not even a super-apron can fix that.

And then I had it again this morning when I was madly and simultaneously trying to give out lunch money and sign permission forms and comb Olivia's hair, and nearly took out Ethan's left eye.  I said, "Let's do something fun this afternoon."  (Everyone is out early today.)  But Caleb said, "What about MYPO?" and Savannah said, "I have achievement days" and I sighed and wondered how far away our summer vacation is.  Too far, apparently. 

I wish there was an antibiotic for zerrissenheit.

(imagine if I just said "no.")

Word of the Week: Sanguinely

sanguinely /adv./  cheerfully optimistically.  assuredly.  buoyantly.  confidently and enthusiastically. expectantly.  lively.  hopefully.  also with reddish or ruddy color, floridly.

sanguinely  /adv./  1.  I think perhaps I had a hard time with this word this week, because the word itself doesn't sound sanguine to me at all.  The middle syllable in particular sounds like you opened a box of something distasteful and reminds me of dissecting frogs in 7th grade.  And so the week did not go sanguinely, at least for me.  There were moments spent in the exact opposite way in fact.  But we woke to rain this morning, sanguinely pattering on the roof and skylights, dark clouds covering everything, and so I am sanguinely publishing this post and hoping for days and days of rain and turkey and games around our kitchen table.

sanguinely  /adv./  2.  Olivia was delighted at her viola lesson this week to be invited to play at the big Christmas recital.  Her teacher has been astounded at her progress and believes she's ready to perform.  Olivia, of course, sanguinely accepted the invitation, beamed all the way home, and has been madly practicing the can-can ever since.

sanguinely  /adv./  3.  Savannah had her second grade "Johnny Appleseed" play this last week.  She wanted to memorize her part and spent a good part of the week pacing the house reciting lines about John Chapman's life.  She narrated beautifully and did her own share of sanguinely beaming.  The highlight of the play, though, came when David cancelled a meeting and surprised her by showing up.  He said when he walked up he had never seen such a grin on her face.  I am including a video of her part for her grandparents whom, I'm sure, will sanguinely applaud me for doing so.  Please notice the scenery that I helped create.  David was duly impressed of course. 

sanguinely  /adv./  4. Caleb and I spent more hours than I care to think about working on his aerospace project this week.  He and his team are sanguinely predicting a big win at the competition next week, but I am nervously worrying about all the "black holes" in our research and plans.  But there is little we can do now.  We have built and rebuilt and typed and retyped and thought and rethought, plus glued and sawed, and drilled, and mod-podged, and watercolored, and scale drawinged, and made a gazillion trips to Home Depot.  All that's left is the bibliography (which is substantial) and securing the solar panels (which are sadly skewampus).  Truth be told, I would find an "honorable mention" downright miraculous.  I keep telling the boys that this is just a learning experience, but their enthusiasm will not be dampened.

This was the state of my feet on Monday night after a day of helping 11-year-old boys spray paint.  They came clean, but my garage floor will never be the same.

sanguinely  /adv./  5.  On Saturday we drove down to Tucson to visit Daniel (my cousin) and Carol (his wife) and their lovely girls.  We went to watch the BYU vs. Utah game (we don't have any kind of cable) on their large theatre screen and have dinner.  The girls disappeared shortly after our arrival, emerged for dinner, and shed a few tears at our leaving.  When I announced that it was time to go, they said, "What?!" with utter shock and consternation.  BYU lost horribly to their big rivals, but David took it okay.  In fact, when we left to drive down he rather un-sanguinely said, "I have a bad feeling about this." (Meaning the game, not the car ride.)  They live in near some gorgeous mountains covered in saguaros, and this gorgeous specimen is right in front of their house.

sanguinely  /adv./  6.  On Sunday night, David and I attended "Priesthood Preview" with Caleb who will turn 12 this year and receive the Aaronic priesthood.  This was, of course, one of those moments that kind of stops in your tracks and you wonder "What just happened here?"  In the middle of the meeting they asked the boys to stand together and sing "Called to Serve."  Caleb sanguinely belted out his part, regardless of the other quiet, tentative, 11-year-old voices around him.  When the other boys looked at the floor or blushed shamefully at each other, Caleb stood up tall, looked straight at us and sang out his testimony.  I was busting.  I love that he knows who he is.   

"Cross Your Fingers for Rain"

That's what Olivia hollered as she went out the door this morning.

It's cloudy this morning, which I don't think has happened since like last February or so. 

And in honor of that and in case of rain, Olivia wore an extra scarf today in addition to the one she usually wears.  You can't be too careful.

In other news, I'm still half-dressed.  (You're never fully dressed without at smile, you know.) And the word of the week has failed me, as I have not done anything sanguinely the past week or so.  (Just ask David: yesterday he brought me a jamba juice and I growled at him.  In my defense though, I asked for 2 inch 6/32" screws., and he brought jamba juice.  Jamba juice, though fruity and delicious, cannot hold a leaning space station upright.

But later, if I can get my kitchen floor mopped, and the laundry off the floor and out of the doorway and possibly even folded, and get organized for our space station work meeting this afternoon, then I will publish a sanguine post.  Even if it's only about all the darlings in my life who continue to be sanguine even in the face of my frustrated grumpiness.  Pray for peace, people everywhere.  I had big plans to be ready to do my Thanksgiving grocery run today as well, but I'm not sure I'm quite up to that, emotionally or otherwise.  Perhaps that will leave groceries and pie making all for tomorrow, an unprecedented occurrence, but that's about the state of things. 

And now for your enjoyment, a diagram of my life:

 

 1.  my neglected sewing machine...I see you over there and I miss you.

2.  the quilt that used to hang on that bare yellow wall...it was the victim of a sad watercolor incident and so had to be taken down for cleaning and drying.  It still has not been rehung.

3.  the leaning tower of space stations...it rotates, but it lists to the left.  I spent four hours yesterday trying to reinforce and shore it up, to no avail.  I'm just going with it now.

4.  the worst drill in the entire history of drills...what I wouldn't give for a seriously powerful drill that you could PLUG IN. 

5.  my missing drill bit...I spent a good thirty minutes looking for it yesterday.

6.  the jamba juice David bought me instead of 6/32" screws...I was so ticked off I just let it melt without drinking a bit of it.  I'm crazy like that.

7.  the dreaded floam...this stuff was supposed to be the regolith in the bottom of the space station but it was just a disaster.  Curse the makers of floam and while I'm at it, I also curse Martha's double sided tape.  Heaven help me.

8.  mod podge...can't have a project without it.  David went to the store on Saturday to procure this bottle.  He was like, "Mod Podge?  What's mod podge?"  I said, "Just ask someone."  It is a testament to his graciousness that he ran the errand at all.

9.  the detritus of the space station project...the inside of my brain looks about the same.

10.  a pile of dowels...they are the witnesses and victims of several failed attempts.  Someday perhaps they will have a chance to tell their story.

My Life by the (Metric) Numbers. So There.

Note:  Please be advised that CIM wrote this all by herself.  RIM is already telling me that I will regret it in the morning.

Tonight I read that the "representative habitation module" for the space station needs to be "to scale (metric)."  I told David, "I have no idea what that means." 

So there.

But here's my life by the numbers, metric and otherwise:

In the last 3 weeks

I've been to Home Depot at least 10 times,

and Target only once.

Which is just plain weird.

(Today I thought, "I'll just walk around Home Depot and see if there is anything that might be helpful."  Which is also just plain weird.  Weirder still, I found what I was looking for.  So there.)

I have 1

30-40 minute talk to give tomorrow night

and 0 idea of what to say.

I do know that Caleb's space station designed for 100 people

is 5,090 meters squared

and will need about 2 billion liters of air

and 8,030 kilograms of potatoes,

but still 0 idea of what information might be useful to a roomful of faithful women. 

So there.

(Those last two lines just took the wind out of my sails.  I've lost my belligerence.  When I started this post I had a good head of steam going.  But now I'm just feeling small and scared.)

But I'm going to rally.  Here goes:

The good news is that the 83 cm-in-diameter space station

is actually now rotating at 2 rpms all by itself,

and I have 36 hours before I have to think about it again.

And also (in regards to the talk and not the space station),

that the Lord has never, not once,

left me alone.

So there.

Word of the Week: Ascribe

ascribe /vt./  to credit or assign, as to a cause or source.  to attribute or think of as belonging, as a quality or characteristic.  accredit.  credit.  impute.  hang on.  pin on.

ascribe  /vt./  1.  The appearance of this post can only be ascribed to Rachel, who when I told her I was going to put the word-of-the-week on hold for the rest of the year, gasped out loud in horror.  Bless you, Rara.  This one is for you.

ascribe  /vt./  2.  The word "ascribed" has been pounding through my head, ever since we sang this line at church last week (and a little):  "To Him ascribed be, Honor and majesty, Thru all eternity, Worthy the Lamb!"  (I especially like the exclamation point, don't you?)  I like the way ascribe sounds, especially in the past tense, when you say it in three syllables...a.scrib.ed.  If my life were a musical, that's how I would say it all the time.

ascribe  /vt./  3.  My absence from all things blog can be ascribed mostly to the pace of my life and the length of my list these days.  To be honest, there is no actual list, just a wheel in my head that turns around and around saying, "What about this..."  "Don't forget this..." "You better start on..."  (This wheel sounds suspiciously like RIM, while CIM just thinks its a good idea to take Tuesday afternoon off and play Monopoly with my boys.  Ethan creamed us by the way.  He kept saying "Nope, that's too expensive," and only bought Mediterranean and Baltic Avenues, while I bought everything I landed on.  I ended up going bankrupt and selling most everything to him in the end.  It was a little too frighteningly close to my actual life.)

ascribe /vt./  4. It seems like most of the week was taken up by the election.  The first part spent in nervous anticipation and after Tuesday, taken up with a bit of consolation pie and what can only be described as quiet, resigned acceptance.  But by Thursday, we had all recovered for the most part and life went on.  I can only ascribe this to the magic of pie.

ascribe  /vt./  5.  On Wednesday afternoon I took Savannah to get a haircut (which was badly needed and long overdue, and finally accomplishing it can only be ascribed to her constant prodding.)  It turned out darling and she said, "When you put this on your blog, you need to put an exclamation point by the 'after.'"  Indeed.  When David saw it he said, "I'm not sure if it makes her look older or younger."  As for me, I feel like I got my little girl back.

ascribe /vt./  6.  We had a big aerospace work party on Friday afternoon and evening.  The other boys in Caleb's group rode the bus home with Caleb and we worked until eight o' clock, when one of the boys said, "I'm really tired."  And they were.  Exhausted.  The most exciting part of the night happened when I hooked up about 9 volts too much power to our little motor and blew up two batteries.  After we got over the little scare this mini-explosion caused, the boys all said that was about the coolest thing ever.  All the progress we made this week can only be ascribed to the brilliance of my mother (who I called for consultation on physical layout...she's a genius with graph paper) and my cousin, Daniel (who I called in for help on the motor dilemma), and the guy at home depot who flirted with me shamelessly when I consulted him about belts and tubing and free plywood.  And in the meantime, my quilt room has been turned into ground zero for the project.  For the record, I am much better with fabric than I am with copper wire.

ascribe  /vt./  7.  On Saturday, my cousin, Daniel, and his family came from Tucson for a short visit.  They brought their bikes and we took our first bike ride of the season.  It was glorious.

The weather was beautiful and we rode about 4 miles with a stop in the middle at the frozen yogurt shop.  The kids played and we had dinner and dessert before they headed for home, but not before my girls tried to talk them all into spending the night.  It was delightful to see them all again.  David was one of Daniel's roommates at BYU, and I still ascribe all the happiness of my life to that (not so) "random" housing assignment. 

ascribe  /vt./  8.  I taught the lesson in gospel doctrine on Sunday and finally felt good about it.  Of course there were a few small moments where CIM started talking, but I was able to course correct pretty quickly and recover.  I can only ascribe this success to the advice I got from my dad and my brother, Matt, a few weeks ago.  (More on this in my 52 blessing post.)

ascribe  /vt./  9.  David is over the oncology program at his hospital, and they hosted their first annual Mustang Car Show/Prostate Cancer Screening Event on Saturday morning at the hospital.  When David told me about this, I just grinned.  I know you're all sorry you missed it.  And while Caleb and I did not need our prostates screened we went with David to check out the car show and show our support.  There is no end (no pun intended) to the variety of projects David's job entails.  But the success of this event has to be completely ascribed to Patricia DeBruhl, who is just about the best hire David has ever made.  She is a wonder.  I'm going to have to add this to our list of minor holidays.

Let Them Eat Cake

Though I personally prefer pie.

I appreciated Kelly's comment, "A wedding pie could be the beginning of a glorious new trend in weddings."  I agree, but somehow I didn't think the bride would see it that way.  Truthfully, I did seriously consider it for a few dark moments on Thursday night.

I rolled that fondant until my arms felt like they had been slalom waterskiing.  I went back for more fondant...three times.  No, it was not homemade.  No, it is not as easy as it looks on the box.  And no, the "Easy- Glide Smoother" is not magic.  The only instruction in two wedding cake books for square cakes was this: "Rounds are easy to cover with fondant.  But what about other geometric shaped cakes?  On squares or hearts, pull the corner flaps gently out and downward, then smooth to avoid creases."  Oooohhh.    Just pull gently out and downward and then smooth to avoid creases.  Why didn't I think of that?

I remember RIM thinking (when my brother asked me to make the cake), "I ought to take a few classes this fall and just get really comfortable with fondant."  You know, try not to "just fake it" again.  Um, yeah.  That would have been good.  Then real life intervened and CIM pretended that everything "would be fine,"  "I'll figure it out later," "How hard can it be?" etc.

I made my sister Rachel's cake a few years ago, and I've decided I must be a "one-cake wonder" because though I do remember powdered sugar covering every surface of my house, I do not remember the angst and despair, nor the struggle against the very laws of nature:  gravity and conservation of matter. 

Amy came to my rescue.

And she brought back-up too.  (Thank you Cyndee.)

They were like the cavalry riding in on Friday night.  It took all four of us (my husband was roped into the project as well) to lift the bottom layer of fondant (28 inches square!) onto the the cake. 

This cake is brought to you by "Friends Who Fondant." 

I think Amy was a bit distressed at the final result, but I was, by that time, reduced to accepting anything remotely resembling a cake (delusions of "good enough").  I added the satin ribbon around the bottom of each layer to hide most of the flaws and a bit of pearl dust (razzle dazzle) to the tops.  It wasn't exactly like the picture the bride had given me four months before...but as Amy pointed out, the "campaign for real beauty" applies to cakes as well and surely the picture must have been "airbrushed."  Yes, surely.

So my short and illustrious career as a wedding cake decorator has come to an end.  Almost as soon as it began.  A pity, really, as it's the only serious exercise I've had in six months.

Things That Slow You Down

1.  Fondant

2.  Fondant

3.  FONDANT!!

4.  Saying "yes" in September when your brother asks you to make his wedding cake.

5.  Thinking January will never really come.

6.  Dishwashers that stop working two days before the biggest kitchen mess of the year. 

7.  Creating the biggest kitchen mess of the year only three days into the new year.

8.  Square wedding cakes.

9.  The fact that the law of gravity apparently applies to fondant too.

10.  People who want dinner despite  the fact that I cannot see the kitchen floor...or stove...or sink.

11.  Little or no experience with cake of any kind.  (I make pies for birthdays.)

12.  Did I mention this was a wedding cake?

13.  Being lachrymose by nature.

14.  Delusions of grandeur.

15.  Delusions of "good enough."

16. ( *with a whimper*)  fondant