The Opposite of Disconcerting is Concerting

All's well that ends well.

After a disconcerting beginning, the week ended well.  Here are a few of the highlights, in no particular order.  This is going to be quick and dirty because my house is, well...dirty.

1.  David took the girls to our ward's daddy-daughter camp-out on Friday night.    This is one of those things that only adds to my love affair with him.  He takes them every year, without fail and really spends time with them.  My girls love it.  They didn't get back until about 2 on Saturday afternoon and only then because Olivia was so excited to open her birthday presents.  I wish I had a picture of them, but I can easily imagine them in my mind, beaming all the way to the mountains.

They got a late start this year because David had a late budget meeting at the hospital, so they pumped up the air mattress and laid it in the back of the car instead of setting up the tent.  On Saturday morning the men in charge of the whole thing had brought BB guns and cups for the girls to shoot.  I know...I wouldn't have thought of that either.  But David just grinned when he was telling me about it and said that we really need to get some BB guns...apparently all of our kids are great shots.  He said we could hang cups and bottles from the trees in our backyard and let the kids shoot to their hearts content.  Of all the "wholesome recreational activities" out there, this is honestly one I have never considered.  Color me surprised.

2.  On Saturday night I met my mom at her stake center to watch the Relief Society General Broadcast from Salt Lake.  I just loved Elder Uchtdorf's talk.  It was exactly what I need to hear and, I thought, absolutely inspired in the way he talked about finding happiness through creation and compassion.  It seemed to raise most of the "ordinary" activities of my life into something much more exalted, and gave me a vision of what I'm really doing.  And I keep repeating the line, "Happiness is your heritage" to myself over and over.  It was a beautiful talk and I'm so happy to have heard it.

3.  A picture from my Saturday morning:

In addition to these three, I also made two lemon pies for Olivia.  Of all the pies, lemon is the most labor and time intensive.  But Olivia's effusive gratitude, makes the effort worth it every time.  There are two slices of the lemon left, and she and Caleb have plans to enjoy them as soon as they get home from school today.

4.  David and I had a long and lachrymose discussion with Caleb on Sunday afternoon.  The last month has been a bit emotional and difficult for him, and this has made living with him a bit more difficult as well.  We had a good talk on Sunday and he confessed that he has much more than he can handle on his plate right now and his stress level is very high.  David reminded all of us that Caleb is only in 5th grade, which made it easier to eliminate some of his heavy burdens in exchange for more play time.  This means that he is probably going to give up the aerospace project for this year (a hard one for him to let go of).  I went to bed feeling better about our relationship, but again wondering if I really have the skills to be a mother. 

5.  David brilliantly bought Olivia the first season of the Little House of the Prairie television show for her birthday and it has been running here ever since.  Can I say how fabulous it is?  I never saw this show growing up and was unfamiliar with it, but have been amazed at the wholesomeness and goodness of it, and absolutely astounded that it once played on national television.  So far we have seen the Ingalls family kneel in family prayer, go to church two times, learn lessons about keeping your word and the golden rule and charity.  When I compare this to what was offered from the networks on television this week, I am shocked, flummoxed, and disgusted by the changes that have occurred in my lifetime, and deeply saddened by the world my children face.  (see the last sentence of #4)  Give me strength.

Okay...admittedly those last two were a bit disconcerting, but for the most part we are determinedly moving on to "fealty."  Onward, ever onward...

Nothing Short of AMAZING

Okay, it's not really my place to make this announcement...but I thought you should know that my sister Rachel ran and finished the Noble Canyon 50 K (32.9 miles) on Saturday in less than 8 hours.

I'm hoping she'll post all the details, but until then, I just thought the whole world ought to stand there with their jaws hanging open in utter amazement.

The race took place near San Diego, and the other day I was joking with her that if I left my house by car at the same time she started running her race, I could actually beat her to the finish line.  This is an astoundingly long time to be RUNNING.

I think she is nothing short of AMAZING.

And brave.  So brave.

And did I mention amazing?  That too.

Congrats, Rara.  You can do anything.  Period.

A Decade of *Love* and *Happyness*

Olivia's had her birthday this weekend.  10 years old.  On her "wish list" she listed a number of things and then, at the bottom in big letters she listed:

Love!

Happyness!!

This is just so Olivia.  From the sentiments to the misspelling to the exclamation points.  This is my girl.

This week we saw an overdue expectant mother from our church congregation walking through our neighborhood, walking through her contractions and trying to get something going.  It reminded me so much of Olivia's entrance into the world.  We were living in San Diego at the time, near a golf course.  And I was so uncomfortably miserable near the end, David would take me out and make me walk that golf course.  We walked for miles and miles.  I told Olivia this week that it didn't work, it only made me tired.  The day she was born I awoke to contractions about 4 and tried to lay quietly so I didn't wake David.  At about 5:30 or 6, I woke David and told him my water broke.  He said, "Are you sure?"  I don't know why he always asks me that.  I'm always sure.  Olivia arrived a couple of hours later.

And she brought love and happyness with her.

Here is a top ten list of some of my favorite things about this darling girl:

1.  She has a great sense of humor.  Really great.  Around our dinner table, she is nothing short of hilarious.  David and I just sit and grin at each other over our water glasses.  The other day she did this impression of a chicken talking to a chicken salad that had us busting.

2.  Olivia is (without question) the most empathetic person I know.  The day I got released from my young women's calling she sobbed all through sacrament meeting for me.

3.  She is desperately in love with Laura Ingalls Wilder.  I find this absolutely charming.  And I can't wait to introduce her to Anne.

4.  Olivia loves to watch David and I kiss.  She starts hanging around when she knows David is about to arrive home, just so she can catch us.  She takes pretend pictures while we kiss and then closes her eyes and says, "Ahhhh."  This makes David and I both quite nervous about her dating years.

5.  She makes pretend quote marks in the air for everything and anything.  I find this hilarious and terribly endearing. 

6.  Of all my children, Olivia gets in trouble the most at school, usually for talking.  Last year she sat next to a boy named Willy and she would regularly "have her card pulled" for talking to him.  When I would ask her about it, she would say something like, "Oh Mom, I had to tell him how nice his handwriting looked.  He was doing such a good job."  This always took the wind out of whatever I was going to say.  I once suggested that she wait until recess to encourage Willy, but she told me that he needed it right then.  (see #2)

7.  Olivia was born to be a mother.  She mothers everything.  She mothers all her friends and all her "enemies."  I'm often sorry that I'm the mom when she is so clearly the natural at it. 

8.  Olivia loves anything lemon.  Her birthday request is always lemon pie, and I took lemon muffins to school on Friday for her birthday celebration. 

9.  Olivia has only recently started liking chocolate.  For years she would pull the chocolate chips out of her cookies until I started making a plain batch just for her.  At kids quilt retreat this year she said seriously, "Chocolate changes people."  (see #1)

10.  Olivia loves seafood.  Tonight we had Garlic Shrimp Linguine and candles and toasted the birthday girl.  We went around the table and told all the reasons we love her and reminisced her birth.  Olivia did all the funny lines.  She's heard it before.  And then she had two pieces of lemon pie. 

Happy birthday, Livy.

I hope it was full of love and happyness.

The End of the Peach Holiday

I have enough peaches left for a couple of pies.  They're going in the oven in the morning, and that will be the end of the peach holiday here.

It has been delightful this year.

The other day, I was reading from Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver as Olivia was having her viola lesson.  I started to read it on recommendation from a friend, and I'm not sure yet how I feel about it.  More than anything else, this book just increases my longing for real seasons, dark black soil, and a few months of good frost.  I'll be honest...that longing has even verged on lust and yearning. 

Her chapter on asparagus had me practically panting and reminded me of being fifteen and reading a lusty romantic paperback.  And all this while my daughter is slowly learning "Hot Cross Buns" on the other side of the door.

But this little paragraph reminded me of our recent torrid peach frenzy and so I thought I'd share it.  She writes,

"But there's a simpler reason to pass up off-season asparagus: it's inferior.  Respecting the dignity of a spectacular food means enjoying it at its best.  Europeans celebrate the short season of asparagus as a form of holiday."

"At our house we only eat asparagus for the weeks it's in season, but during those weeks we eat it a lot--the spears must be cut every day.  About the same time the asparagus plant is getting weary of our management plan, we're starting to feel the same way.  It works out. 

It does work out.  Today when I offered peaches and cream for snack, my kids asked for mint chocolate chip ice cream instead.  

And so we're moving on.  There are other holidays on the horizon after all.  But this was a great one, as minor holidays go.  Really, really great.

Word of (Two) Weeks: Disconcerting

disconcerting  /adj./  upsetting the composure of.  frustrating.  causing a person to be self-consciously distressed.  embarrassing or confusing.  mortifying.  bewildering.  being thrown for a loop.

disconcerting  /adj./  1.  For whatever reason, this has always been one of my favorite words.  I love a word that is (all by itself) a little revelation of its definition.  You can feel it's mortifying unease as the syllables break apart and switch directions on the way out of your mouth.  So I was excited to spotlight it, but forgot about the uncanny and disconcerting way the word-of-the-week determines my destiny.  As Amy commented: "last week when I saw "disconcerting" I knew it didn't bode well."  I wish I had had the same sense.

disconcerting  /adj./  2.  As I type this, it is disconcerting to realize that I can hardly remember back two weeks.  I remember I was going to comment on the disconcerting economy, the disconcerting lack of sagacious national leaders, the disconcerting speed that entropy takes over in my house, and the disconcerting bad grades my children continue to bring home in math and spelling.  I am starting to get the disconcerting feeling that I have very little "real control" over anything.

disconcerting  /adj./  3.  Last Saturday I volunteered myself and David (he was briefly disconcerted by this) for the Prop 102 campaign.  Here in Arizona there is a proposition on the November ballot to change the Arizona constitution to say that "only a union of one man and one woman shall be valid or recognized as a marriage in this state."  So we went and worked at a phone bank for about three hours on Saturday afternoon to poll registered voters about how they were voting and encourage those in support of the proposition to be sure to vote.  Admittedly this was a bit scary calling people I didn't know, and there were a few disconcerting calls, but for the most part I felt good about doing what we could to hold the moral fabric of our state together.  Plus, I thought that being a "political activist" might make me that much more attractive to David.  He now reports that I'm irresistible.

disconcerting  /adj./  4.  Caleb decided to enter an aerospace contest with some of his friends from school, in which they have to make a model of a space station for 100 people to live on for 2 years.  He asked me to be the "parent coach."  It has been a bit disconcerting to discover all the variables he has to address in the project:  food, water, power, oxygen, waste removal including carbon dioxide, the effects of weightlessness, docking, communication, radiation protection, and the list goes on.  This week we worked on air supply (that seemed like the most critical first step).  We made some progress, but quite frankly, I'm a bit overwhelmed with the magnitude of the project and secretly think Caleb would find it disconcerting to discover that I got a C in my organic chemistry class.  I'm seriously considering flying him out to his grandpa's house for a crash chemistry course.

disconcerting  /adj./  5.  Caleb and Olivia performed their musical number (Olivia singing, Caleb on the violin) in sacrament meeting at church this last Sunday.  It went well until the disconcerting moment when Olivia stopped singing.  She just stood there as Caleb finished the song and later said through her tears that she "just went blank."  I hugged her and assured her that it was beautiful and no one could tell that that wasn't how it was supposed to be.  So many people came up afterwards and told her how well she did that she was on cloud nine before we left church.  On the way home she told us that the bad part was forgetting the words, but the good part was all the compliments.  She kept track.  And counted 37.

disconcerting  /adj./  6.  The end of my canning season came this week.  Last week I made what I thought would be a year's supply of raspberry jam, but then made the disconcerting discovery that this wouldn't be near enough, when my family finished off an entire bottle at dinner that night.  And I was also a bit disconcerted when, after kissing David hello and after having him admire my jamming, he said offhandedly, "So what did you do today?"  Um.  Do you want to rethink that question?

And in a wholly brave move, I tried canning spaghetti sauce this year.  (I usually just do the tomatoes halved, but I had 60extra pounds of romas and decided to try something new.)  I find the process of box to sauce to jar nothing short of miraculous.  The only disconcerting thing about it was that these babies turned out to be about $5 a jar.  (Don't ask me how Prego does it, but I'm suspecting it might not all be real tomatoes in there?  How's that for disconcerting?)  My only consolation was that I added real sausage to the sauce as well, so it's ready to go as is.  I was admittedly proud of the endeavor, despite the disconcerting price tag. 

  

disconcerting  /adj./  7.  I got a UTI this weekend and if you don't know what that is, then you have been blessed and you can blissfully skip this definition, because the rest of this won't make sense.  All Sunday I kept having that disconcerting feeling that it was coming and then by evening I was completely miserable and David ran to the pharmacy for antibiotics.  I didn't feel like myself until Wednesday and then had to face my house, which nearly took the wind out of my sails again.  It was a disconcerting combination of the regular weekly mess plus two serious days of neglect, not to mention the laundry, some of which I had to wash twice, because people had just walked over it rather than wearing it or (heaven forbid) folding it after I washed it the first time.  It is nice to know I'm needed, but a bit disconcerting to think about how these darlings would survive without me.

It's Hard (for me for you) To Be Five

Ethan had his fifth birthday this week.  David's parents sent him Jamie Lee Curtis' book It's Hard to Be Five.  I agree, and have added my own bit to the title.  The fact that my baby is five is quite disconcerting and I've even felt a bit of grief at this milestone. 

Ethan's life is a miracle.  My doctor still gets chills when he thinks about what could have been.  Beyond that, every day of regular, ordinary, real life with him is a miracle.  He makes all of us more fun.  As Caleb always says, Ethan is a light.  Ethan always asks me why he was born last.  I tell him Heavenly Father knew we would need some comic relief here in the wilderness and so He sent you just in time.  He always says, "No, not that.  Really why?"  And I say I don't know, but I'm sure glad you came.

In his honor, here are five things he said this week that made me smile, with a few pictures from the day:

1.  Ethan roars when he goes to the bathroom.  It is hilarious.  (And disconcerting for Caleb when he has to accompany him into a public restroom.)  A few days ago after the roaring, we overheard, "I'm getting the hang of this."

2.  After I asked him what he wanted for his birthday dinner he said, "Spaghetti with no salad."  That is exactly what we had.

3.  (Very loudly at the grocery store check-out)  "Wow Mom, we got a TON of YOGURT.  A TON!!  Is it a YOGURT HOLIDAY?!!"  The clerk grinned through our entire check-out. 

4.  I took the kids to the dentist on Tuesday morning.  The hygienist who was cleaning Ethan's teeth asked, "Does your mom help you floss your teeth?"  He answered, "No, my mom doesn't believe in floss."  (That was supposed to be a secret.)

5.  As I tucked him in last night I asked him if he'd had a good day.  He made a happy sighing sound and then said, "Yes.  All my days are good days."

I'm Coming

It may be a bit  disconcerting  for some of you checking my blog to see that I still haven't posted the word-of-the-week, or anything else for that matter.

I have been sick. 

And then subsequently overwhelmed.  There is no one to do my job when I am out sick.

(Except my mom who brought dinner on Tuesday.  Bless her.)

So, I'm coming.

I'm coming.

Slowly.

I've got a box of peaches that are on the edge of rot.  They're first.

What I Overheard

I haven't written in a few days, and consequently, my brain doesn't rightly know where to begin.

So I'll just relay a conversation I heard yesterday between Ethan and his friend, Ashton. (For weeks we didn't know who Ashton was.  His possible name became the topic of many dinner conversations.  Eventually I tasked Savannah with the job of finding out who this little boy was.  But then we still didn't know what his last name was or how to get a hold of him.  Two days ago Ashton's big sister put a note in Ethan's pocket that said, "Ashton wants to play!"  It included his whole name and phone number.  I smiled to myself thinking that Ashton's family had had many of the exact same dinner conversations about just who this Ethan was.  But Ashton's mom brilliantly figured out a way to get them together.  I have no idea why this never occurred to me.)

Anyway...yesterday at my bar:

E:  Do you know what's in that bowl?

A:  Fruit.

E:  Yeah, but what kind of fruit?

A:  I don't know.

E:  It's peaches.  We eat lots of peaches.

(a pause)

E:  Except not all the time.  It's a peach holiday.

I grinned for a long time about that.

Word of the Week: Sagaciously

sagaciously  /adv./  with acute mental discernment or keen practical sense.  shrewdly.  wisely.  sagely.  intelligently or keenly.  perceptively.  prudently.  judiciously.  cleverly. 

[torridly:  /adv./  with intense heat, subjecting something to scorching heat.  with so much heat as to be parching.  very passionately.  ardently.  zealously.] 

sagaciously  /adv./  1.  Last week when I posted the new word of the week on my sidebar, I had every intention of spotlighting the word "torridly," but when I went to type in the definition I started having second thoughts and ended up with the word "sagaciously," which is ironic since this was not a wise choice in any way.  I lived my entire week "torridly" and not a bit "sagaciously."  So in the most sagacious move of the week,  I'm going to sneak "torridly" in here as well.  This is also ironic since the passionate little "torridly" has never snuck anywhere before.

sagaciously  /adv./  2.  I spent lots of hours this week in my kitchen "putting up peaches for winter." (This is how Caleb refers to my canning and I LOVE it.)  The big question is always how many boxes to buy.  This year I sagaciously bought three for canning and one for eating.  This seemed to be about right, as I only really enjoy canning for about three boxes, any more than that and it starts to feel like a chore.  My favorite part is the eating though.  We've had peaches at every meal since I picked these up.  They are so good, and I've been torridly filling bowl after bowl of them for me and my darlings.  Yesterday we had them with whipped cream on top of our pancakes.  The kids asked what holiday it was.  It's peach season, lovelies.

sagaciously  /adv./  3.  The lady who sells me Utah peaches also has an in with the tomato farmers up there.  She had a couple of  boxes of gorgeous beefsteak tomatoes for sale and even though I'm getting three boxes of romas this week, I just couldn't help myself.  When I wasn't eating peaches this week, I was torridly eating tomatoes on crusty bread.  (September is quickly replacing November as my favorite month.)  I canned all the ones we didn't eat and sagaciously decided to make spaghetti sauce with the romas.     

sagaciously  /adv./  4.  Olivia finished her latest Laura Ingalls Wilder book a couple of weeks ago and has been positively destitute without something to read.  I sagaciously pointed out that she has shelves full of books she hasn't read yet, but she is madly in love with Laura and couldn't bear to start something new.  I finally took her to the bookstore on Thursday afternoon after her viola lesson and she has been torridly reading ever since.  She almost wouldn't let go of the book long enough for the man to ring it up.  Every night as I tuck her in she gives me the update.  (Mary's on her way to college and Laura's working in town, by the way.  They had to sell the calf for Mary to go.  I thought Olivia was going to swoon when she told me they were going to buy Mary a trunk.  "A trunk, Mom, a trunk!  Oh, can you imagine having a trunk?") 

sagaciously  /adv./  5.  I found out (through sagacious deduction) that our water softener hasn't been working since we moved into the house.  We've been here nearly three years, but I'm just discovering this.  Anyway, on Saturday I asked David to replace the salt in the softener so that we could turn it on.  He did and we ran the cycle and felt quite proud of ourselves.  Then the water pressure in the kitchen faucet and the shower went to practically nothing and the water softener, which hadn't run for three years, started leaking all over the garage.  I decided I was perfectly fine with "hard water."  We spent part of Sunday trying to stop the leaks and fix the pressure, but didn't get it all solved until last night.  This is how home improvement projects go at our house.  I not-so sagaciously think something will be easy, and it's always a hundred times more work and complication than it's worth.  It is only an indication of how torridly David loves me that he agrees to any of these projects in the first place.

sagaciously  /adv./  6.  David and I went out to dinner on Saturday night at our favorite restaurant.  (I sagaciously ordered the Oscar medallion with blue crab on top, oh my.)  And then we stopped by the grocery store on our way home.  A good date night always includes a torrid stop for bread and milk.  I find David loading the car with groceries among the most romantic of gestures.

sagaciously  /adv./  7.  You do not want to know how my gospel doctrine lesson went on Sunday.  I stand up there dying a little death with every word that comes out of my mouth.  But I have sagaciously formulated a new plan.  I told David I need him to get a substitute next time I teach so he can come and hear it.  I need his gorgeous, blue eyes looking at me, torridly telling me that no matter what I'm saying he thinks I'm H.O.T. Hot.  He said he'd see what he could do. 

Domestic Bliss

A few reasons I'm celebrating my life as a domestic goddess today:

1.  These shoes.  (Darling.)

2.  This quilt.  (Gorgeous.) 

Do you remember our quilt retreat project from earlier this year...this is it.  Finally finished and up on my wall.  It's been in my "to do" sewing box since April.  It only took me 4 hours to complete it...and that included an extra hour for unpicking.  (I always like to add an hour of unpicking...and draw out the fun.)  I wonder why it's just been sitting in my box all these months.  Anyway last night (after my decorating consultant got home from work) I got it up on the wall.  Can I say how happy I was to wake up to this beauty this morning?

3.  This man.  (Delicious.)

A few months ago David asked me if I wanted to be on a committee at the hospital to host a "Spring Tea" next May to raise funds for his cancer program.  I said yes, even though I have no expertise whatsoever in "tea."  ("The Spring Punch and Cookie Party" title just didn't work.)  We had a meeting at the hospital this morning to prepare for it.  One of the ladies there spoke so highly of David and the really (really!) good work he is doing at the hospital for the cancer patients, and all the wonderful programs and people he has put into place to bless the lives of families going through cancer.  She told us how good and brilliant and compassion- ate he is.  It was a good thing that David wasn't in the meeting because if he had been, I would have lept over the table and started making out with him.  Which would have been embarrassing.  For him. 

4.  These peaches.  (Divine.)

I wait all year for these babies.  My canning days are some of my favorite of the entire year and here they are again.  I washed my aprons and my jars this morning in joyful anticipation.  Not to mention the peaches and cream morning, noon, and night.  And pie.  Oh my.  I'm going to the store for half-and-half, THE staple of September.  (Though I may have gone a little overboard this year, [there are four boxes of these in my laundry room], and I am hoping that this doesn't become a post in my "delusions of grandeur" category.)

5.  These tomatoes.  (Spectacular.)

I just went to pick up peaches.  But then I saw these tomatoes.  (To die for.)  I bought two boxes, just because they were so beautiful.  There will be BLT's tonight, heavy on the T.