The Secret Delights of the Week

First of all, may I just point out that this makes five posts in five days.  You already know that of course, as I'm sure this was one of the secret delights of your week.

But before the weekend comes, a few more of mine, for the record.

1.  This book.

I am completely in love with Flavia de Luce.  I could eat her for breakfast, lunch and dinner.  Better than pie, I say, and I find myself wildly grinning through Mr. Bradley's every paragraph.  

2.  This game.

Caleb got this game for Christmas and by New Year's we owned the expansion.  We have played hours of it since then, including a stolen hour last night between dinner and Roundtable meeting that David had to rush off to. 

3.  This conversation.

This morning as I was in the shower and David was putting the finishing touches on his tie, we were reviewing my posts from the week.

David remembered the one from Wednesday morning and got a little red under the collar remembering the last couple of paragraphs.

He rolled his eyes at me and said, "I wonder what people think."

I said, "They think you love me.  They think that's crazy, but they definitely think you love me."

"But can't they know that without being inappropriate?"

"Probably not," I assured him.

His eyes did another roll but I just smiled at him and he got distracted because I was just coming out of the shower, remember?

4.  This text.

Hey love hope u r having a good day

This afternoon, quite out of the blue, David sent me a text.  Unheard of.  Especially in the middle of the day with the hospital always absorbing all of his daylight-hour attention.

Of course I texted back.

wow...how nice to be thought of in the middle of the day...cant wait for date night

And then I waited.  For something witty perhaps?  For something steamy perhaps?  But he didn't text back.

I was hoping for something like:

me too

or

where do you want to go

or even

i think of you in the middle of the day every day

But the exchange was over.  Still.  I'll take what I can get and count it as one of the delights of the week.  I am so easy to please.  (That was funny, right?)

5.  The rest of today.

I spent the day at Christine's (my sister-in-law) house quilting.  Or actually, mostly talking and planning and fabric shopping and plotting ways to get my sister, Rachel, to quit her job so she can join quilt day too, but we call it quilting.  We had plans to work on some unfinished projects but mostly got excited about starting a couple of new projects instead.  It was easily among the best hours of my week.

Next week already looks less delightful as I have jury duty bright and early on Monday morning.  I am sincerely hoping I don't consume all of Flavia between now and then as I would love to have her with me through jury selection. 

But the week after that school starts.  And I, for one, can't wait.  This week I went and peeked through the window of my classroom and my inappropriate heart did a fluttery bounce and started pounding madly away, undone by the sight of desks and chairs and whiteboards.

Heaven help me if I ever find myself in a classroom with David.  I will surely spontaneously combust with all that lust.   

From the Other End of Yesterday

Did you see the sunset last night?

Made the whole day worth it.

(I took a blurry picture of it for you.  Your welcome.)

By the other end of yesterday things had gotten better. 

The Amazon had been downgraded to a small overgrown garden, Savannah survived her first orthodontic visit, I vacuumed through the house and registered for a writing class at our local community college, and (joy of joys) everyone returned home.

After family home evening and kisses and tucks and warnings and finally threatenings, it was just David and me on the couch.  He was half-watching the Fiesta Bowl and half-cheering for both teams and half-telling me about his day.  I was half-listening and half-reading my book.  We kissed and put the day to bed.

And as I drifted off, a small begrudging thought from CIM acknowledged how good normal life can be.

And so now it is almost too late for this:  one last look back at the holiday.  Even worse, I'm sure it will only seem mawkishly indulgent to all of you who didn't actually live it with us.  Oh well.  You can just close your eyes and listen to Adele sing.  Even with your eyes closed it could be the best five minutes of your entire day.  That girl has brilliant vocal chords.

You will have to imagine the hours we spent around the table playing games, as somehow I forgot to film that part and also the hours David and I spent shopping together as we are not famous enough yet to have a documentary film crew follow us around.  (Maybe next year.  I have a good feeling about 2010.)  Those were a couple of my favorite parts. 

And now, our holiday set to Adele's live recording of Make You Feel My Love.  It was just about as magical as it looks.

Late at Night, Mid-Hibernation

Wondering where I've been?

Hibernating.

And for the record, I am so good at it.

Today I played Super Mario Brothers with Caleb and Ethan for about six hours.  My thumbs are sore, but I'm improving.  Well, no pain, no gain.  We've made it to secret Level 9...not so secret any more.

We broke for a late lunch and then David and I sorted out the final Christmas spending for a bit.  Which was eye-opening.  (I told him I prefer ignorance.)  We always stay right on budget until about the 22nd and then it's just a free-for-all.  Oh well.

An important part of any hibernation is sleep, so then I went back to bed for a long winter's nap.  I was still in my pajamas so it was easy to do.

I woke up in time for a shower before I made dinner (you have to keep up your strength for hibernation)and we played games for a couple hours before we went to a late movie.  For a really good hibernation I recommend only going out at night...makes you forget that there is anything at all "important" to do and like the whole world is abed for two straight weeks.

And now we are back in bed.  David is asking me if I'm going to post my Christmas letter.  I told him I thought it was too late now.  He disagreed and kissed me into publishing it...much more effective than talking me into it.  I can't resist.  My apologies to those of you who've already read it.

There will be more hibernating tomorrow as well, though David may have to go out for milk and bread and salsa.

But I will be staying in.

The world can wait.

And now, our Christmas letter...  

Dear Loved Ones,

David wants you to know that the picture on the front of this card was taken on one of the greatest days of our whole year on a lovely strip of beach on Vancouver Island in British Columbia.  Knowing his penchant for details, I am sure he would also want you to know that this particular spot of paradise, where we discovered the Pacific Ocean and the magic of wet suits, is near a little surfing town called Tofino.  And if he had his way there might be a map insert as well. 

As for me, I only want to point out that since this picture was taken, Caleb has grown taller than me.

It has been a year of changes.  They have been at once subtle and life-altering.  On a Monday morning this August, the children woke up early.  They dressed in their new clothes, and tied closed-toed shoes onto their feet even though it would be nearly 110 degrees that day.  We gathered in a circle for prayer and scriptures just like every day, and then unlike any other day ever before, they all kissed me, and they all left for school.  Every one of them.   The shock of that moment left me stunned and sore for months. 

One Sunday evening this fall I sat with Olivia on the loveseat in our bedroom.  I told her about the miracle of life.  As I carefully explained about her own body and how it was already prepared to create life and love, I thought about how she had just gotten here herself.  I thought about how she was just placed in my arms and here I was telling her how her own babies would someday make their way into hers.  I was overwhelmed by the staggering brevity of my time with her.  When I finished she was crying.  Overwhelmed, she said, that she would have to grow up whether she wanted to or not.  I thought, “Think how I feel.”

This year Caleb turned twelve.  I can see the hair on his arms.  When he sits on the couch in his pajamas I don’t recognize his feet.  In October David took him to his first Priesthood session of General Conference in Salt Lake City.  On the way home, they had a long heart-to-heart talk about growing up. David looked over to see him crying.  Makes you wonder if we’re leaving out the good parts, doesn’t it?  When David asked if he was okay, Caleb replied that he liked things just as they are.  Well.  Think how I feel.

I am dizzy with the turning of the earth.  Some days it feels like I’ve got my head out a car window, and my eyes are burning and streaming as my life flashes by.  It is so brief, I would protest if I could catch my breath.  In two weeks, three of my children will be wearing braces, the first tiny little railroad tracks that lead out of my home and into homes of their own.  Ethan and I now wear the smallest shoes in the house, and even he is walking around in pants that are two inches too short.  I have to put my foot down somewhere, see?  

This year I noticed something as I reread Luke’s story of the Savior’s birth.  In the very same chapter of that story, just twenty verses later, Luke tells about a time when Mary and Joseph couldn’t find their son.  He had stayed at the temple to teach and they were frantic and sick with worry, “sorrowing” as Mary says, for three days before they found him.  Jesus was astonished at their worry.  Because didn’t they know he wasn’t really theirs?

I know it too.  Inside.  I really do.  I know my children came for a bigger purpose than to entertain me around the dinner table, that they have their own measure of creation to fulfill.  But somehow in the feeding and clothing and tutoring and kissing better, the lines have blurred a bit.  They feel like mine.  It’s easy to forget they aren’t.  And I wonder if that wasn’t how Mary felt as well.  Born to her, but born for all of us.  From the very beginning she had angels and prophets telling her, reminding her, that he wasn’t really hers. 

For unto Us a son is born, unto Us a son is given.

After this year, it tears my heartstrings to think of it.  Because I know it wasn’t given easily.  One morning as I sobbed my sorrows out on my knees I felt a voice from heaven gently say:  Yes, I know.  Think how I feel.

For God so loved the world, that He gave his only begotten Son.

This year David and I learned just a little bit more about the cost of that gift and the depth of that love.  That before the Cross and the Garden, he was a baby gazing up from her breast, a round-cheeked toddler who gave open-mouthed kisses, a boy all arms and elbows and unruly cowlicks telling jokes at the dinner table.  His parents, both heavenly and earthly, watched his legs lengthen, his shoulders broaden, the moment of sacrifice surely coming.  All the while knowing he wasn’t really theirs.  In the tiniest way we know that grief.  This Christmas season and always we worship the boy who was born King and God and Sacrifice.  And the Father who loved us enough to let Him be just that for each of us.  We worship the Lord of all creation.  Because of Him, our own sweet creations, these four madly growing children, will be ours forever.  Oh how we love Him.

With love and joy and growing pains,

David, April, Caleb, Olivia, Savannah and Ethan 

The Magic of Minor Holidays

We have a long tradition of getting the most out of our minor holidays.  David once made the best decision of his life on a minor holiday and since then we do our best to joyfully exploit every minor holiday on the calendar.

Yesterday was no exception.

We all slept in, with the exception of Caleb who set his alarm and rode his bike to the church to set up flags around the neighborhood with the rest of the scouts.  Do I love that I heard his alarm and then rolled over, burrowed into David's side and went back to sleep, completely confident that he would get himself up and do his duty?  Yes, I do.

I made a big breakfast of crazy pancakes (which are really German Pancakes, but we call our crepes "German Pancakes" and so we needed a new name for the actual German Pancakes.  This was a mistake perpetrated in the last generation in our family and I don't know why I didn't correct it when I had children.  Make a note Em, this madness can stop with you.)

And then we played games until mid-afternoon when I took Olivia to her viola lesson and stopped at the store for baking potatoes.

David surprised us all by coming home by five, a rare occurrence on any day, and celebrated by kissing me thoroughly while the potatoes baked.  And just when things started taking a turn for the scandalous and he began pulling me towards a more private corner (I'm telling you he has a thing for minor holidays), I raised my head and caught my children enjoying a perfect gloaming together.

At dinner, Olivia bowed her head and thanked heaven for "all the soldiers and all the veterans who had fought in that war."  We all said "Amen" and meant it.  Because of them we enjoyed a perfect minor holiday, free and safe, in the middle of the week in the middle of November.  We could not have been more grateful.

I was humming this morning while I dished eggs onto the plates.  Ethan said, "You're alone again today, Mom."  He had a worried look on his face that said he didn't want to be the one to break the news to me but somebody had to do it.

I said, "Yep."

"Then why are you happy?"

I smiled at him and told him to eat his eggs.

Why am I happy?  Leftovers from yesterday, I suppose.  And the small, delicious taste we got of the major holidays just around the corner.  I really can't help myself.  I have been seduced, yet again, by the bewitching charms of the minor holiday.  After all, she has all the fun and none of the work and stress and pressure of her more "official" sister.  Which is just more evidence of birth-order discrimination, I say.  Apparently, even first-born holidays do most of the work.

(That's right, I said it.  My brothers and sisters may now audibly groan.  It's still true, though.)   

Halloweening (the noun went as a verb)

Our spookiest minor holiday of the year is officially over.

Marked by the tell-tale sign of only tootsie rolls and dum-dums left in the bottom of the candy bowl.

The rootbeer extract controversy has been long forgotten.  Was I for or against?  I'll never tell. 

The only thing left: pictures of my darlings in their holiday splendor.  Olivia as Miss Earhart (she played the part as romatically as ever), Savannah fresh from the sarcophagus and Caleb from the Transylvanian tomb.  Ethan has been practicing "the force" all month in preparation for his night as Yoda.  He did not disappoint.

Better Than a B12 Shot

There is a story that is told in my family, especially among the women.  A family folk tale of sorts, but I heard it from my Aunt Margaret who swears it's true.

It goes that when my mom and her sisters were young and my grandmother would get in a particularly bad mood, one of my aunts would call my grandpa and tell him to bring home the B12 shot.  My grandpa was a doctor and on really rough days he would bring his doctor bag home and while my grandmother was madly stirring away at something on the stove he would lift up her sleeve, swab her arm, and give her a shot.  The story goes that neither of them acknowledged that he'd done it, she'd go on doing whatever she was doing without even looking at him, and he'd put everything back in his bag.

(I told this story to David once and he said, "Really?  Did it work?" and then wondered aloud how you go about getting B12.  He said he was just kidding when I protested indignantly.  But sometimes when I am particularly hard to live with and I see him staring off into space, I know he is secretly wondering if there is a B12 black market.)

There were several things this week that just made me happy.  Better than a B12 shot, I say.  The picture above was one of them.  The American Girl Christmas Catalog arrived this week.  When David got the mail he said, "Oh no."  I just smiled.  The girls poured over it, took it to school for conferences with their friends, let their dolls peruse it, and sat with David oohing and aahing over the holiday spreads.  This morning, after the girls had gone to school, I found Olivia's dolls making their own Christmas lists.  The anticipation has begun already.

And while I'm at it, just for the joy of it, here are a few more things this week that made me happy:

I found a get well note under Olivia's pillow from Savannah, that was mostly a long paragraph listing the fun they could have together once Olivia was feeling better and a profession her love.  Eighteen x's and o's with lots of exclamation points.  And speaking of sisters, I got a comment on my post yesterday from both of my sisters and one sister-in-law, all of whom knew exactly what I was alluding to.  I thought how very nice it is to be known.  I was completely delighted at this happy gift and the little impromptu book club on my blog. 

Yesterday David suggested that we meet for lunch.  I put him off thinking that we were both too busy, but then changed my mind after I got ready for the day because I thought I looked so good he really deserved to see me.  We met at In-n-Out and ate outside in the decidedly pleasant weather.  It is so rare to see him in the middle of the day, I have decided that lunch is my favorite kind of date.  The only downfall of the lunch date is there is no place for passionate necking.

Savannah and I have plans to tea-dye her mummy rags after school today, and we are going to pick pumpkins this Saturday.  For whatever reason I am embracing the Halloween season this year and my children could not be more pleased.  Perhaps it is all the spooky movie watching...we have plans for another movie marathon this weekend.  On tap, The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, Casper, and Ghostbusters.  And David and I have our own late-night plans for Wait Until Dark, my personal Halloween favorite which I could watch any time of the year.

Yesterday I took Savannah and Ethan to the school book fair in the afternoon.  They both spent their birthday money on new books.  (Thanks Greg and Becca!)  Can I tell you how happy it makes me that I have children who would rather spend their money on books than anything else?  Deliriously so.

And speaking of books, Caleb has been working on his Reading Merit Badge.  One of the requirements was to read to a child for four hours.  He completed the requirement by reading to Ethan every evening, but they both enjoyed the experience so much that they've continued reading together every night since.  Last night they finished The Enormous Egg.  My heart does little thumps of joy as I hear Caleb reading and Ethan laughing from the other room and see their heads tipped towards each other in a pool of yellow lamp light.  Be still my heart.

Best of all, the weekend is here.  Mine is going to include date night, stake conference, sugar cookies, an indian-food dinner party, a trip to the thrift stores for our missing costume essentials, and maybe even a nap.  Color me delighted.

Like a Fire is Burning

Last week we fall-breaked.  Which meant games and "scary" movies every evening (tis the season).  And late night runs to the store for supplies to make cheesecake and pumpkin pie just because they sounded good.  Caleb and I worked on merit badges while the girls had sleepovers with their cousins and their dolls, and we ate dinner on the patio every night.  David is nearly drowning at the hospital these days and arrived home late every night, but it didn't matter since bedtime had been suspended for the week.

On Friday we went camping and played games in the tent and cooked our meals on the campstove and s'mores over the fire.

It was a good week with my children.

Last night on our way to a meeting I told David, "I hate Sunday nights."  He laughed and admitted the same thing.  It's like being born again every Monday, ripped from heaven and thrown back into the lone and dreary world, blinking and blinded by reality and to-do lists.  A feeling made worse last night by the fact that I had had my children home all week and knowing it would be another nine weeks until they were all mine again.

The meeting we were headed to was the dedication of our new stake center, as our old one had burned down nearly two years ago.  I went to the meeting out of duty, aware only of my looming week and temporal worries.  I left the meeting transfigured.  I had no idea that it was going to be a gift from heaven.  I have rarely felt such an outpouring of the spirit, and I have never heard such a beautiful, powerful prayer.  As we rose at the end to sing "The Spirit of God" I was reminded of the rededication of the Manti temple that I attended as a child. 

I felt like I was standing in front of the burning bush.

And I was on fire too.

David put his arm around me to prop me up in front of all that heat and love.

I was overwhelmed by the love of heaven, by the palpable presence of God and his angels, the truthfulness of his work, but mostly by the mercy and kindness of my Savior, Jesus Christ. 

And that fire burned through all the choking anxieties and paralyzing demands of earth life, scorched my burdens and my fears, and left me joyful and stronger and brimming with faith.

I sobbed most of the way home, which wonderfully, did nothing to quench those flames.  The fire is still burning this morning, as David noted with a smile as he kissed me goodbye and I smiled up at him.  I don't think he's seen one of those on a Monday morning since school started. 

Transfigured, indeed.

Sights for Sore Eyes

Last week I wrote many posts in my head.

They were lovely.

And funny too.

But I got busy and so they stayed in my head.

Which is a shame.

Because did I mention they were funny?

Instead of posting, I made a quilt that was auctioned to raise money for ovarian cancer.  (Actually, my mom had to help me piece the top of it together as I ran out of time in the end.  I am thinking that at some point in my life, I should get it together enough to not have to be rescued by my mother.  I am also thinking that she is thinking the same thing.)

I put up jars of tomatoes and spaghetti sauce and raspberry jam for the winter (if it ever comes), with more to do today.

I've eaten about a hundred of these

and laid in bed dreaming about the tomatoes that made them irresistible.  One night I told David I couldn't sleep because I kept thinking about getting up and eating another one.  They were that good.

[Peaches later this week.  Can you stand the anticipation?  I'm already drooling.] 

David and I put on a ward activity, which included a variety show that put me in front of the computer for hours and hours editing video submissions and compiling them all into a movie.  My family made a music video to kick it off.  I have included it below for your viewing.

You're welcome.

And every night I was sure to ask David how it felt to be married to someone so capable and amazing.

And every night he said it was so wonderful he couldn't put it into words.

I said, "Try."

Because I love positive feedback.

Almost as much as I love tomatoes from Utah.

And now, our version of the Black Eyed Peas:

Easter Weekend, Perspectives from Two Photogs

 

I checked my camera this morning for something to write about.

It was full of pictures I didn't take.

This is one of them.

Apparently David had the presence of mind to capture a few pictures of the kids in their Easter finery, while I was making lemon pie and telling the asparagus how nice it was to see him on my table again. 

Early this morning our house alarm went off, when Ethan went outside to dump the sand out of his shoes.  It was a rude and brutal awakening.  (Ya, that's right.  My kids were up before me.  Add it to my list of shortcomings...which is ironically, not short.)  I sat there stunned and confused, wondering where the weekend went.

Here are a few of the highlights.

Stood in line at the courthouse for the third time to apply for Olivia's passport.  She was beginning to think they would never let her out of the country. 

Returned our overdue library books.  I like to think of myself as a philanthropic donor with all my library fines.

Went to Costco for ham and free samples of key lime cheesecake.  Which we didn't buy, but are still dreaming about.

Colored eggs and fingertips.

Had a Saturday Easter egg hunt that dissolved into a water fight and ended with my nude children skinny dipping in my parent's pool.  (Much to my mother's chagrin.)  Never mind that the water temp was a frigid 56 degrees.

Made two lemon pies and three pitchers of fresh lemonade from lemons off my neighbor's tree.

Helped host a ward pancake breakfast and Easter-egg hunt in the rain.

And mopped up afterwards.

Spent three hours at the mall trying to find new dresses for the girls. 

Only found one, and sent David out for the other one.

He was, of course, victorious.

Let my pride get in the way of being really happy or sincerely grateful about it though.  (Who, me?)

Ate a brunch of fruit and BLT's on a blanket on the lawn.  The sunshine was glorious.

Went to church and worshipped and prayed.

And wished that every Sunday could be just like this one.

Hosted Easter dinner on my fine china and ate every last spear of asparagus. 

Finished with pie and the Amazing Race.

Washed and dried my china by hand.  Almost as delicious as the pie.

Kissed my husband goodnight.

And just like that, we are back to Monday.

Which makes me feel like swearing or crying, but instead I proudly present my photo of the weekend:  Savannah and her Mona Lisa smile.

Padding My Resume

I'm not sure of the reason for my blogger's block.  Lots going on, and no way to link it all together in one clever post.  I put a lot of stock in cleverness.

That being said, there isn't going to be any in this post.  So you can go ahead and lower your expectations.  Soothe yourself by just being happy there is a new post.

After a brief lull after the holidays, real life has returned hot and heavy, as evidenced by the fact that my sewing room has once again been turned into ground zero for Caleb's new science project (by the way, throw out your hand sanitizers people, that's just a pandemic waiting to happen) and the stacks of current projects I have piled everywhere else.  

Here is my life by the numbers:

This weekend we celebrated the 95th birthday of this lovely lady (my grandmother)

and travelled 427 miles from home to watch her blow out her candles.

On the drive, David helped me work on the address list for our

1st annual "Garden of Hope Spring Tea Luncheon,"

to raise money for the 1,800 cancer patients at David's hospital who will be diagnosed this year,

and which will be held on May 9, 2009. 

Mark your calendars, though you may be lucky enough to get one

of the 500 save-the-date cards we are mailing out.

(I told David this week that he was a very lucky man to have such a wife.  I mean look at my community outreach and charity work.  I need to update my resume.  He replied by using "affinity" and "opine" in a sentence and I got all giddy and forgot about the fact that he really owes me one.)

I have spent most of the last week working on the aforementioned invitations, as they should have been at the printer's 2 days ago,

and when I wasn't, I was working on a 94 inch square quilt that will be auctioned at our event,

and helping Caleb swab 10 petri dishes with E.coli (you read that right)

and washing my hands with soap and water 100 times afterwards.

Quilt retreat is only 56 days away,

so I have also been madly working on my round robin projects (I'm only behind one rotation now)

and making a couple of trips to the quilt store and the post office.

And when I was on one of these trips to the quilt store

I found the perfect fabric for the boys' room and decided to make a few pillows for their beds,

which made me think of making a 50 inch matching cornice box for their window.

(I know that sounds ridiculous, but I couldn't help myself, and I told David that very thing, besides which you'd be amazed at what I can do with 18 inches of styrofoam and some liquid nails.)

And just because I know you are wondering, Olivia and I started Anne of Green Gables

and we are on chapter nine.