I almost got into a fight with a child

I was out at the school this morning helping in Ike's class, and I was playing a spelling game with a little girl who lives up the street from us.  The word was "fawn," and I explained that it meant a baby deer, and a kid sitting at the table next to us horned in and said, "No, a baby deer is called a cow . . . alf."  I said, "A calf?" and he said yes, and I said, "No, that's a baby cow.  A baby deer is called a fawn."  Then he said, "My dad is forty-five, and he says it's called a calf."  And I, because I am twelve, said, "Then he's wrong."  I felt bad about it, because first of all, I'm guessing that his dad does know what a baby deer is called, and second, does it really matter, even if he does call it a calf?  Then I said, "A baby elk is called a calf--maybe that's what you're thinking of," and he said, "No, it's a baby deer.  My family goes hunting all the time.  We go every day and night."  I said "That sounds fun!" and refused to engage any more, which I think shows tremendous maturity, don't you? 

I just hate it when people are wilfully stupid, even children.  Children are sort of unteachable at times.  It's why when we are advised in the scriptures and other church situations to "become as a little child," I wonder what kind of child they're talking about. 

and I will always be that way

Last night we went to The Secret World of Arrietty at the dollar theater (excellent film, highly recommend, especially if you have girls who you worry about having their brains eaten by the princess culture, shut up princess culture).  Then we got some "food" at a "restaurant;" we will not speak of it.

We came home to our filthy house--filthy because I had been working outside and birthday shopping (for Emmett) while the kids were at school, and also because we are pigs--and on the counter was a plate of cookies from Emmett's primary teacher.  Now, this is not about me, this is about the people in our ward, but I do feel sad that the scene that greeted Yvonne, who is a very neat and collected person, was three overflowing baskets of laundry on the living room couch and a kitchen in which every horizontal surface was covered in dirty dishes.  But I love that we came home to cookies.  What a wonderful place to live.  What wonderful people!  I just want to squeeze Yvonne to pieces.  She is so great, and writes letters to thank people who speak in Sacrament, and birthday cards to the children in her Primary class, and she bears a humble, insightful testimony almost every month.  On Sunday I was sitting in church listening to people bear their testimonies, and I had an overwhelming sense of the goodness of my friends and neighbors.  We are surrounded by such kind, selfless, hardworking and generous people.

Yes, I know, I was just saying on the other blog that I hate my town.  Well, that day I did.  Believe me, I did.  But on Sunday I was reminded how much I love it here.

mummy dear, mummy dear

Captain America: "Mom, what is this song?"
Me: "It's 'Breakfast in America' by Supertramp."
Captain America: "Then why is he saying not to look at his girlfriend? That's not even about breakfast."

On Saturday we had Fakesgiving with my dad's family. It was terrific, and it continues to mystify me why people will choose white meat over dark. My aunt Barbara brought a jello salad that I guess Superman fell deeply in love with, because he took a whole tub of it home--it's one of those 2-quart containers. He's weird about jello. He wrote me a note the other day about how much he loves it. Here is a picture: Don't hassle me about the all caps! We're working on it. It says, "Dear Mom. I love your jello." But evidently he loves Barbara's jello more.

rad stories I wish they hadn't skipped in gospel doctrine today

So, this year we're studying the Old Testament, right? And the lesson today was about Elisha succeeding Elijah as the prophet. Here are some stories we missed out on, as paraphrased by me.

Elisha is walking past a city, and some urban youths come out and start making fun of him and how he is old and bald. A couple of she bears come down out of the woods and:
She Bears: "Munch, crunch, rip, tear, yum."
Urban Youths: XX (that is the Xs on their eyes because they are dead now)

Naaman of Syria comes and gets his leprosy healed after a small hitch, and is so grateful that he wants to pay Elisha, but Elisha says nope. Then Elisha's servant Gehazi sneaks out and runs after Naaman and says, "Actually, Elisha does want to be paid some silver and stuff." And Naaman is all, "Cool, because I'm thankful. Here's a bunch of silver." Then Gehazi goes back to Elisha, who's all, "Umm, where have you been, Gehazi?" And Gehazi is like, "Umm, nowhere?" And Elisha is all "Snap! You are a giant liar and greedy to boot, so here's Naaman's leprosy, and you and your family can have it for always."

There's a famine in Samaria, and I guess they were crazy and evil, because a woman goes to her neighbor and says, "Since we're starving, give us your son to boil up and eat, and tomorrow we'll eat my son," so the second lady does, and the next day they go to get the kid of the first lady to eat him, and the mom has totally hidden him so they can't eat him! So tricksy!

I sometimes think they skip over these stories on purpose, which is sad, because if there's anything the Old Testament is good for, it's satisfying your inner vengeance demon and gorehound.

I would not like to have been a child then, or any other age of person for that matter

Our ward choir (that practices at our house so we'll come) is practicing "Whenever I Think About Pioneers" for July, and I have a hard time singing the words. Singing it doesn't make it true, y'all, and whenever I think about pioneers, this is what I think of:

• chopping hair out of the ice with an axe
• lugging a sack of dirty diapers until you find a river
• jerked beef
• mosquitoes
• burning sun
• the desert
• walking in bare feet
• frostbite
• gangrene
• infant mortality
• burning poop to stay warm
• cannibalism
• menstruation with no way of cleaning yourself--can you imagine how many bears they attracted?
• bodies in shallow graves being dug up and eaten by wolves

Pass.

replace "pee" with "vomit," and I feel you, buddy

After a night like last night, a little something like this makes me giggle. It's okay, not hilarious, but man, does it finish strong. I saw it over on Mormon Mommy Wars and had to poach.

At our house it's just the opposite. Our children learned long ago that until they buy a megaphone they have no prayer of waking me up, so they don't even bother coming to my side of the bed anymore. I'll wake up and be like, "Mmmm (yawning), that was a good sleep. How was your sleep?" And John will tell me about how Pinga was up five times in the night and Superman wet the bed and Captain America and The Hulk both got up at one o'clock to play with the Legos, and I will have no idea that any of it happened. Whoops.

phantom pain

John's mom has said that she always hated going to the beach, because she had eight kids and she spent the entire day counting. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, over and over again, making sure they were all there.

I found myself repeatedly counting and coming up short this weekend. I would wonder, "Why are there only five? Who's missing?"

And then I would remember.

Mormons are usually a fairly amiable bunch at funerals, I think partly because we are a childlike people, but also because we know where our loved ones have gone. But the separation is painful all the same, and part of grieving is to recognize the loss, and the change that is being forced upon you. There are copious tears shed in the midst of the celebration of a life well lived.

This afternoon John and I were watching a video of their Christmas concert at Abravanel Hall. It was good to see everyone laughing and singing together again; to see the right side of the stage stealing focus like always while the left side waits patiently/exasperatedly for them to get their wiggles out. To hear Phil explain quietly that wherever Heidi is, there is where he is home. To hear him earnestly request us to help others to find the feeling of home.

I imagine that for a long time we will find ourselves counting and missing someone, or listening and wondering where the note is that makes the entire chord lock into place. But I know that we will then be reminded that he is not lost; he has simply returned whence he came.

sing out strong

It's been an emotional day. Of course just saying that feels cheap of me; what right have I to break down into sobs when my dear friend who has lost her husband is so stalwart? But this morning on my way down to Salt Lake I was listening to our Kid Stuff CD, and in particular "Sing, Sing a Song." It starts out with organlike hums, and then Phil's smooth, warm voice comes in with the lines

Sing, sing a song.
Sing out loud, sing out strong.
Sing of good things, not bad.
Sing of happy, not sad.

Then the song continues as Richard takes the solo, then John Luthy, then Mike Bearden, then my John, then Mike Willson. And by the end of the song all of our kids are singing and laughing; as Superman said it, "All the kids are singing, including me and also [Pinga]!" The song embodies all that we love about this group that has enriched our lives and given us experiences, opportunities, and relationships we would never have had otherwise. We are a family. The boys are like brothers, and the number of jokes the girls have made about our being sister wives couldn't be counted; but the feeling is real. We take care of each other. And to hear that feeling of joyful communion distilled so perfectly into a children's song is a tender experience. I didn't realize that the music would change my life.

he was brave

We just got some very sad news. A close friend of ours has been battling stage IV cancer for a long time, and he passed away this evening, leaving behind his wife and two-year-old daughter.

He was a kind, gentle man. A good man, and a good example of what a husband and father should be. We are better people and our lives are richer for having known him. Words are inadequate to express what a loss this is for us, exponentially moreso for his beautiful family. We are grateful for the circumstances that joined our lives to his for so long, and grateful to know where he is now.

are you a pre-op transcentaur?

We had Stake Conference this weekend, and there were some very helpful and damning talks given. Turns out that if you wear leggings to the temple, you're supposed to wear a dress on top of them! That goes to your knees! Boy, was I glad I didn't wear my cheetah-print leggings to the meeting. Not that I would have. I've only worn them to church once, and though they were under a totally legit skirt, I guess if I really think about it perhaps it was bad form.

We were also told that we should serve others, and it will help us forget our troubles. I don't know about that, though. It sounds a little out there to me. I think I'll keep focusing inward and see how that works out. I bet in the long run I'll be glad I didn't entangle myself with my fellow human beings and all their exhausting personal problems.

Here's my favorite song:

you know it's going to be a good day when you find something perishable on your porch

And it wasn't even a human kidney! As much as I like organs and tissues, I was more excited to find this on my porch yesterday:



I recently did a little something-something for them, and this is my payment. So very, very awesome.

so there

If there's something our ward is good at, it's compassionate service. And it feels good, even when you're wicked like me. We compassionate serve the CRAP out of people.

sometimes we have gender confusion

A phone conversation I just had with John:

John: "Hey--I'm going to record American Idol tonight."
Me: "Wow. So, when did you turn into a 12-year-old girl?"

(Give him some credit--it's the Salt Lake auditions, so it's totally civic pride that he's exhibiting. Don't judge, y'all!)

more about my awesome husband's equally awesome CD

I was listening to Kid Stuff again this morning, and it started me to thinking. I sort of a-cappellad myself out about eight years ago, after listening through the Rockapella library, the BOCA collections, and all the other assorted a cappella CDs that John brought to the relationship (which is a full crap-ton). I see Voice Male in concert often enough that I don't usually listen to their CDs, see above, re: a-cappellad out. Keep in mind that I listened to ONLY a cappella with occasional Frank Sinatra for about two or three years. It gives you aural fatigue--even the Beatles will do that after a while.

Anyhoodle, justifications aside, I wanted to say that I love this CD. Voice Male has, for the first time, equalled Mariah Carey in the sick, sick right hemisphere of my brain. They've given me chills before ("O Come, O Come, Emmanuel"), but "Sing, Sing a Song" makes me cry. It's like listening to all four seasons at once. John and Mike have a fun little scat in "Do Re Mi," When I "See An Elephant Fly" is right in John's wheelhouse, I love "Noodles On My Back," "Circle Of Life" is not only tolerable, but great--Mike has this whole monsters-of-rock-power-ballad thing going on--and I'm telling you, Kid Stuff is some of their best work. They're in great voice, and they sound so happy. I'm not often sincere, but I can say that I don't lie to make people feel better, and this is currently my favorite CD. You won't know what I'm talking about until you hear it yourself, but it captures their personalities wonderfully.

Sorry about the mush. But it's such good mush!

if you don't buy a CD, the greedy bankers win

I'm going to take this time to do some pimping of the new Voice Male CD, Kid Stuff. It is the best kids' music CD released by an a cappella group this fall! They do an especially good job on Pecos Bill. You know how every cover you've heard of that song is offensive blasphemy of the glorious Sons of the Pioneers version? Well, this cover is thoroughly enjoyable and doesn't even make you wish you were listening to the Sons of the Pioneers instead. Which, from me, is saying a lot. And there are so many other great songs! I'm so proud of these little buddies. It's just a great, great CD. I can't even name a favorite song, because it changes by the day. Good jorb, Voice Male!

And yes, the world economy is tanking, and soon we will have dissolved into inter-tribal warfare, but wouldn't it be nice to have something good to listen to while you wait for the armies of intelligent robots to advance and destroy you?

a message from my voice mail

Layne? When we got down here with that carrying case, and we opened it up to let them three out? They've lost their mittens. You know, those kittens. So I was wondering if they left them up there, because until . . . Margaret's not going to give them any pie until they find them, so . . . anyways, let us know. Bye.

hope you don't mind the poaching

There are some young cousins in our family who refer to their camouflage pants as "killing pants." That cracks me up.

over, under and through (da da dadada)

You guys. This is a great Sesame Street website where you can watch video clips. Before now we've had to watch them on youtube, which is a gamble, and the other day we ended up hearing some naughty swear words that some guy had dubbed over the real audio. You stay classy, America.

I'm a Sesame Street traditionalist, so it's nice to see these old clips again without the risk of seeing Elmo, and Zoe, and Abby Cadabby or whatever the crap her name is. I HATE THE NEW MUPPETS. Perversions of an art form, is what they are.

out of the hands of babes

I've taught a few signs to all my babies, because it made it so much easier for them to communicate with us and us with them. Carmelita isn't quite ready yet, but probably will soon be able to start saying "please." "More" is a little more difficult, but they have an incentive to learn that one. Emily has taught us some cool signs, too, and introduced us to "Signing Time with Alex and Leah" which airs on PBS. It's a fun show, except for the lady needs to settle on down with the singing. I like singing as much as the next guy, but there's just so much of it! It's not about you, lady! Here is a cool website where you can look up many words you might want to teach your ankle-biters.