The Delighted Life

This post is rated S for Shallow. Viewer discretion advised.

2012-01-26T09:02:00.000-08:00

Y'all. We need to talk. I'm concerned.

As we speak, rumors are swirling that Johnny Depp and Vanessa Paradis, his longtime girlfriend and mother of his two children, are on the verge of splitting up. I believe my reaction to that can be summarized pretty succinctly: JohnnyNOOOOOOOoooooooo!

I'd like to think it's just talk, but generally speaking, where there's smoke there's fire when you start hearing chatter about celebrity breakups, even when denials are being issued. (See also: Kutcher, Ashton)

What are they thinking? I mean, it's disappointing enough that they've never married, but separation? Doesn't he know that Johnny as Committed Family Man is part of the appeal? Doesn't he remember all the sweet, gallant things he's said about her? Will everyone in Hollywood disappoint me? (Don't answer that.) If they break up, it's only a matter of time until Johnny turns up dating Kim Kardashian or something and I'll have to lose all respect for him and cross him off of my list forever. (See also: Clooney, George)

I saw an interview with Vanessa one time where they brought up a huge picture of Johnny on a screen in the studio just as they asked her a question about their relationship, and I swear she practically swooned, just like the rest of us do. It was the sweetest thing. You don't let go of that because you're bored or "grown apart" or irreconcilably different or whatever the fashionable excuse is these days. So, work it out, you two! Do it for the kids! Do it for me!

And while I'm being completely worldly, I might as well just put it out there that if Ben Affleck and Jennifer Garner ever get divorced, I'm going to need a Kleenex.

...and by "later," I really meant later

2012-01-25T10:26:00.000-08:00

So, this blogging thing...I really have a love/hate relationship with it. Sometimes it just flows, and I'm full of ideas and the posts practically write themselves, and people tell me they liked something I wrote, and it's the most fun hobby in the world. Other times, my mind is a stagnant swamp and I couldn't write anything interesting if my life depended on it, and my insecurities whisper in my ear that noone cares anyway and I decide to just go eat some worms instead of even trying. The pendulum is swinging more to the latter lately, but I figure if the muse doesn't show up, I might do well to just make a discipline of writing and see how it goes. So congratulations on being my guinea pigs! (I mean, you know, assuming you're out there.)

We had milestones since I wrote last. The joyous one was our sweet Pirate Boy's eighth birthday. It seems hard to believe that my cuddly little baby is actually eight. As I said to McGyver, it seems like being eight makes him such a big kid...eight is so close to ten. Thankfully he still likes to climb up in my lap and snuggle, and even if he doesn't stay there for as long as he used to because irresistible things like playing Wii or building Legos beckon, I'll take it.

For his birthday, we had pizza and chocolate cake (both at his request) and he opened up exciting gifts like a new movie, a new fishing pole from Papa, money from Grandma, a Wii game that he and McGyver love to play together...but my favorite part was later that night when all the festivities were over and I was tucking Pirate Boy into bed. I sat on the edge of his bed and brushed his floppy blonde hair back from his forehead and told him about how at that moment eight years ago I was sitting in my hospital bed, having given up on sleep because all I wanted to do was hold him and stare at him. A pleased, thoughtful smile spread over his face as I recounted how excited and happy I was to have that perfect little baby boy for my own. And I've said it enough times that I didn't even need to remind him that no matter how old he gets, he'll always be my baby.

Shortly after we celebrated someone we love coming into our lives, we had to say goodbye to someone we love who left. My grandpa, after 95 years' sojourn on this planet, went home to heaven with his children at his bedside...a good end to a good life. It feels like the sun has gone from our family's little solar system, and even at the funeral I was almost looking around for him out of habit because I've practically never been to a family gathering when he wasn't there. There were fond reminiscences of him from family and friends alike...how he loved to go to Taco Bell for lunch with my dad and his brother and whatever group of friends they would bring along, his reputation as an avid and skilled hunter, the way he always prefaced a discussion with "I have a question to ask you," his straight-shooting opinions and his tough-love approach that was usually just what people needed to hear. One man who had known Grampa since the 1940s said, "I never heard him use a smutty word, and I never saw him lose his temper." I loved that. Above all the memories of my Grampa as a good friend and upstanding citizen, people said over and over that he was a Christian man who had served and loved God all his life. So the heartache is tempered by the knowledge that he really is in a far better place -- praise God, it's not just an empty platitude that people say at funerals -- and that we will see him again. Remember the classy lady with the dark brown hair? He's with her again. And just before the end, he promised to meet the rest of us at the gate. Personally, I plan to hold him to it.

Grampa and Pirate Boy, 2004

The year in pictures, mostly

2012-01-05T21:48:00.000-08:00

Farewell to 2011...all in all, last year was pretty good to us. Hoping you had a wonderful Christmas, and that your new year is off to a roaring start. More words to come later. <3

A song for Sunday

2011-12-25T19:41:00.001-08:00

A song for Sunday

2011-12-18T12:46:00.001-08:00

Snapshots

2011-12-14T21:58:00.000-08:00

It was a pretty average day today in the Delighted household.

Agent K and Pirate Boy fought over leftover bacon, like Dickensian urchins who didn't know where their next meal was coming from. But then they laughed together about the funny parts of the Christmas skit they saw in chapel at school this morning.

Agent K's latest nickname for Pirate Boy is "Frosty," as in "the Snowman," because of his puffy winter parka. He hates it. The funny thing is, she outgrew last year's winter coat and told me she wanted "a warm jacket like Pirate Boy's," so I went and ordered her the girl's version of his jacket. Things should get interesting when it arrives on Saturday and she realizes she is also the proud owner of a Frosty the Snowman jacket. I may or may not have already shared that little tidbit with Pirate Boy.

McGyver and Agent K spent most of the evening in a come-to-Jesus meeting/intensive tutoring session due to her latest math grade, and can I say one more time how grateful I am for McGyver and how the best thing I ever did was to marry him, because if I were a single mom, Agent K would be bringing home Ds and Fs because I'm not any better at fifth-grade math than she is.

I'm also grateful for McGyver because he's considerate of my blood pressure and fast-forwards through all the commercials for the upcoming Sherlock Holmes movie, or should I say "Sherlock Holmes" movie, because don't even get me started on the re-imagining of Holmes as action hero and ladies' man.

There seems to be a big trend on Pinterest lately where everyone is pinning "bucket list" items. Surprisingly, considering I'm such a planner, I don't have any kind of bucket list, and I tend to take life as it comes rather than set goals like that. But I will say that the whole idea seems to be getting a little out of control, like, whatever happened to "skydiving" or "going to Paris?" Every day I see these pins and I think, girlfriend, you're never going to meet Angelina Jolie. And if you're not planning to die until you've had your own clothing line...well, I hope that whole cryonics thing works out for you.

And speaking of getting old, I can't seem to keep my eyes open much past 9:30 pm these days. So, I'm off to bed. Nitey-nite!

Everyday Everests

2011-12-12T14:00:00.000-08:00

So Agent K and Pirate Boy are in the children's choir at our church. Agent K loves it, tries out for solos, looks forward to concerts, no problem. Pirate Boy, on the other hand, does not love choir. In fact, when he first tried joining the choir two years ago, he washed out before the first performance due to being emotionally overwhelmed by the prospect of even standing on stage with the rest of the kids. That was his last day as a choir member...until this year, when McGyver and I decided that our boy could use a little push to get involved in an extra-curricular activity, because he's just not really the type to want to try new things on his own. We weren't expecting him to go out for the lead in the Spring musical or anything -- all we asked was that he get back on the horse, hoping that along the way he'd be able to conquer his fears.

When we started talking about this year's Christmas concert, Pirate Boy was predictably excited and optimistic. I believe the exact quote was: "I'm doomed." Despite having made it through one performance in church already, he just doesn't like the idea of being up on the platform, feeling all those eyes on him. And the thing is, I get it. I really do. Because long, long ago, in a galaxy far, far away, I was a singer. I sang in school choirs, church choirs, small ensembles, duets, solos, musicals, you name it. And somewhere along the way, I just lost the stomach for it. Trying to sing a solo began to make me literally physically ill, and my nerves would affect my voice, and it all went downhill fast. I distinctly remember the last time I sang by myself, at a church women's retreat, and it was such a nerve-wracked, shaky-voiced disaster that I vowed I would never do it again, and I didn't. I felt like my gift was gone, and I was pretty pragmatic about it. I was content to limit my singing to a monthly stint in the worship team at church and belting out favorites when I was in the car alone, but as far as I was concerned I was retired as a soloist.

And then, a month ago, our music pastor called me out of the blue. "I'm going to ask a favor of you, and I fully expect you to say no, and it's okay if you do." Well, who am I to resist that kind of fancy reverse psychology, and before I knew it, I had agreed to sing. A solo. At the Christmas concert. In front of hundreds of people. Heck of a way to make a comeback, huh? Since the children's choir was going to be singing the background vocals for my song, I thought this would be a great incentive for Pirate Boy. I told him the news, and enthused about how we could bond over our mutual fear, and then get out there and kick that fear's behind! He thought for a moment, then shook his head. "Doesn't help."

I couldn't have agreed more last night, as I sat in the pew waiting to go on and attempting to achieve a sniper-like state of control over my racing heartbeat and shaking hands as adrenaline coursed through my veins. "What was I thinking? Why did I ever say I would do this?" ran through my mind as I prayed for calm and tried not to look around and see who was there and how crowded the sanctuary was. Lord, equip me for the service to which I've been called. And then Agent K's little bell choir finished their song, and like a robot I felt myself walking up to the stage, and walking up the steps, and taking the microphone that the pastor handed me. The song started, and I took a few last deep breaths to calm my body, and I opened my mouth and...I did it! My mouth was as dry as if it was stuffed with cotton balls, and I had a death grip on the microphone so my hand wouldn't shake, holding it, but I did it. And then the song was over, and I was putting the microphone back in its stand and walking back down the steps and giving Pirate Boy a thumbs-up in response to the one he flashed as I went by.

We both got through it. I honestly believe that I couldn't have sung last night if it hadn't been something that God had prepared for me to do, because it went against every instinct I had and I truly had a supernatural peace when I needed it. I hope He was pleased by my offering...just a simple song, but it was all I had to bring at that moment.

I tucked Pirate Boy into bed last night, telling him how proud I was of him for singing. He was thoughtful. "I don't think I'll ever get used to singing on stage." Maybe he won't. Performing might not be his niche like it was mine, and that's okay. But I think it's good that we both took that leap of faith and stepped outside our comfort zones to do our best to glorify God. Pirate Boy's bedtime prayer was, "thank You for giving me the courage to sing tonight..." Amen and amen.

But He said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.

2 Corinthians 12:9

A song for Sunday

2011-12-11T09:28:00.001-08:00

L.A., baby: part 2

2011-12-09T11:42:00.000-08:00

...And then it was the big day! We got up early and ate a big breakfast and drove to Disneyland just in time to arrive at the main gate at 9:00 sharp. Thankfully it really isn't too crowded this time of year, so we breezed past the ticket window and took our places in the crowd on Main Street, awaiting the announcement that the park was open. I have to be honest, I'm a big sap and I got a little choked up at the sight of all the cheery Christmas decorations on Main Street, and Sleeping Beauty's castle in the distance festooned with snow and icicles and bulbs and wreaths, and the looks of excitement on my children's faces. And when the voice came over the loudspeaker with the "welcome to Disneyland" spiel that heralds the park opening, it was all I could do not to jump up and down with giddiness. Okay, I might have actually jumped up and down just a little.

We started in on all of our favorite rides, and there weren't too many people there for any of them, which was wonderful, because if you really want to see the selfishness and inconsideration of which the human species is capable, look no further than The Happiest Place On Earth, where I'm confident some folks would shank you for a better spot in line at Star Tours. We hit Pirates of the Caribbean early in the day, which is always the definitive Disneyland moment for me...floating through the dark waters past the rundown shacks and fireflies blinking in the bushes, getting ready for the drop down the big waterfall...that's when you really know you're there. It was even better when, after screaming our way down the waterfall, our entire boat spontaneously broke out in clapping and singing along with "yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me." The newly revamped Star Tours (in 3D!) was unbelievably exciting and scary and fun, and the Haunted Mansion's holiday incarnation was toned down in the creepiness department and just right for our two first-time riders. The annual Boys vs. Girls grudge match at Buzz Lightyear's Astro Blasters saw the boys come out victorious, and they also trounced us in our traditional Autopia race. They caught us on an off day and beat us fair and square, but we've got a year or so to psych up and come back with our A game, so...next time.

I could definitely see the tide turning this year toward having older kids. Whereas last year they wanted to go on Alice in Wonderland and Peter Pan and the carousel all day, this time they were all about Indiana Jones and Big Thunder Mountain and the Matterhorn. They even got me on Big Thunder Mountain, which prompted the thought "what was I thinking?" several times during the ride as I alternately screamed and said "oh gosh oh gosh oh gosh" and hung on for dear life. It was all good fun, though, and I know McGyver loved having his whole family on the thrill rides with him.

Remember, this man hates Disneyland

To my surprise (and delight), Agent K was still adamant about meeting the princesses. When I asked her if she still wanted to do it, she immediately replied, "yes! It's a tradition!" And so I got one more year of leading her by the hand into the princess enclosure with her eyes closed because she wants to be surprised by which princesses are there. It's funny, how much you appreciate little things when you see your children growing up and you know those little things are on borrowed time.

Evening brought a whole new magic to the park, as the lights began to go on and the festive atmosphere only got better. The castle was bathed in blue light and fake snow flurries floated through the air around us, and we could just see the huge tree at the opposite end of Main Street ablaze with lights. As I mentioned yesterday, the fireworks were cancelled because of the wind, so we took the opportunity to go on It's a Small World instead. What is usually kind of a throwaway ride for us was surprisingly very cool in all its colorful, sparkly Christmas finery, and it's amazing how they really make it a completely different ride at this time of year. Plus, they mix in different versions of "Jingle Bells" with the "Small World" song, which is a little easier on your sanity.

We closed out the day with our traditional last ride on Pirates of the Caribbean followed by taking the Disneyland train on the big loop around the park to the entrance. We were freezing, tired, hungry, and ready to flop into our beds at the hotel, but it was -- as always -- a magical day with my three favorite people in the world, and I'm so grateful we had the chance to do it.

L.A., baby: part 1

2011-12-08T16:41:00.000-08:00

First of all, I'd like to dedicate this post to McGyver, who drove a thousand miles and stoically paid Disney's highway-robbery prices for everything from park tickets to sandwiches to take his wife and kids on their extra-special dream Los Angeles Christmas extravaganza vacation. Thanks, loverboy!

Our trip was a smashing success...although I was reminded a few times that despite my love of planning things down to the last detail, the illusion of control is fleeting, and sometimes you have to be ready to roll with the punches. The first thing we noticed upon rolling into Anaheim was that our go-to restaurant right down the street from our hotel had shuttered since we were last in town. And the folks at Disneyland also didn't get the memo about my plans for the perfect trip, because Pirates of the Caribbean was broken down for the better part of the day and the evening fireworks show had to be cancelled because of high winds. But the imperfections that happened to our perfect trip were all part of the adventure, and the end result was that a great time was had by all.

We made the marathon drive to Los Angeles in about seven hours (not bad at all!) and had time to go explore Downtown Disney before dinner. It was freezing cold, but there were carolers and colorful twinkling lights in the trees, and shops all brightly decorated and the scent of caramel corn wafting through the air. As the four of us walked around arm in arm, snuggling to warm up a little, we couldn't deny the excitement and Christmas spirit all around us, and it was the perfect appetizer for our day in the park that was yet to come.

Ravenously hungry, and having discovering that "our" restaurant had closed (McGyver: "I thought you checked on it." Me: "No, I just assumed. And you know what you do when you assume."), we found that the only place that didn't have an hour-long wait on a Saturday night was Panda Express, so we ate there. It really is hard to go wrong with orange chicken. After that, it was back to the hotel and off to dreamland, looking forward to a new day of adventures.

In the morning, we headed up to the Getty Center. I've probably said it before, but if you haven't been there, you must! The location, art, architecture and landscaping will take your breath away.

Christ and the Adulteress, Valentin de Boulogne

From there, we went to Griffith Park to see the famous observatory, which you've probably seen in a movie at some point. It has an amazing view of the city, as well as some interesting exhibits on astronomy.

Finally, we had to go to The Grove to make our second pilgrimage to the American Girl store, where Agent K's doll got her ears pierced and we perused all the clothes and accessories. I also discovered the Zara store, where I finally broke down and bought some red jeans, which Agent K assures me are not too young for me, and I take her at her word. The whole mall was gorgeously decorated, with a huge Christmas tree and lights ablaze everywhere, and I regretted not bringing my camera to get some pictures. Fortunately we happened to be parked on the roof of the parking structure, so when we went back to the car I had the bright idea to grab my camera and get a quick shot of the scene from above, which ended up being an even better view than I would have had if I'd taken pictures while we were inside. And I didn't have to walk around the mall looking like a tourist, so it was a win-win situation.

Our dinner plans again fell through when we found that the restaurant I'd researched on the Food Network website turned out to be on a pretty dodgy stretch of Hollywood Boulevard, so we drove back to Anaheim and ate at California Pizza Kitchen, which we'd never been to before. Then we went back to the hotel and tried to get our children to stop bouncing off of the walls and go to bed early, but they were giddy with anticipation of the next day at Disneyland...

Travel shoe tote tutorial

2011-12-02T10:12:00.000-08:00

While we're on the subject of travel, I wanted to share a great little craft project that I whipped up this week. I got this idea from a library book that I checked out ages ago and took notes from, and with our Disneyland trip as an incentive, I finally got around to making it. It's a quick, easy, cheap thrill that turns out a really handy finished product. So let's get started!

Materials:

1/2 yard solid-colored fabric, 54 inches wide
Remnant of patterned fabric at least 16 x 15 inches
1 yard cord

First, you're going to cut four rectangles from your fabrics. Cut two rectangles 18 1/2 inches by 15 inches from the solid-colored fabric (I used plain unbleached muslin), which will be the lining for your tote. Then cut one more rectangle 16 x 15 inches from the solid-colored fabric. This will be the back of the finished tote. Finally, cut one rectangle 16 x 15 inches from your patterned fabric for the front of the tote. I used a Japanese linen with a cute Paris-themed print. (This is a great project to showcase those special fabrics where you can only afford to buy a little.) If you're using a directional print, as I did, be sure that the orientation of your rectangle works with the pattern.

With right sides together, join the 16 x 15-inch rectangles (one solid and one patterned) and sew together with a 1/2-inch seam allowance on three sides. Clip corners and set aside.

With right sides together, join the 18 1/2 x 15-inch rectangles for your lining and pin together at edges. Before you sew, you're going to need to make some small but important markings. At the bottom, mark a 4-inch opening for turning. Then, on the top right edge, measure 3/4 inch from the top and make a mark. Measure 5/8 inch down from that mark and make a second mark. This will be an opening that will allow you to insert a drawstring cord in your finished tote. Sew the lining rectangles together on three sides using a 1/2-inch seam allowance, leaving openings as marked. Clip corners.

Turn the outside of your tote (with the patterned fabric) right side out and press, being sure to make the seams and corners nice and sharp. With right sides together, insert the outside into the lining, matching seams and raw edges, and pin together. You'll notice that the bottoms of the outer bag and lining don't meet, but don't panic -- we're going somewhere with that. Stitch a 1/2-inch seam all the way around the top edge of the two bags, making sure that your side seam allowances are opened out as you go.

Now turn the bag right side out through the opening in the bottom of the lining. Smooth out lining so that the corners and bottom edges fit neatly into the outer bag. After doing so, you will be left with about an inch of excess lining fabric hanging out over the top edge of the outer bag. This will be the casing for your drawstring. Press the casing out nice and sharp, and topstitch 1/8 inch from the top and the bottom of the casing.

Press all the seams of your finished tote to make everything smooth. All that remains is to use a safety pin to thread your cord through the opening in the casing, and voila! You've got a classy way to protect your clothes and let your shoes travel in style. Now go somewhere and enjoy it!

About a boy

2011-12-01T15:57:00.000-08:00

Wall art for my bedroom

The newest obsession

Viking battle equipment

Good old Dr. Seuss

Legos...always Legos

And I didn't even have to win the Super Bowl

2011-11-28T16:43:00.000-08:00

I love travel. I love everything about it. I love deciding what to wear and making lists and packing and the way the buildup to a trip lets me use my own special brand of ~~OCD~~ efficiency to great advantage. I love staying in hotels and eating in restaurants and seeing new places. I even like that a vacation makes you appreciate coming home. So you can imagine how excited I am about a whirlwind trip we're taking next weekend, to a little place you may have heard of called DISNEYLAND! We have literally been counting down to this trip for the last year (well, the kids and I have -- McGyver is mostly just humoring us) and I'm like a kid on Christmas Eve, I'm so amped up about it. I lie in bed at night and try to go to sleep, but then I think about driving over the last rise after Santa Clarita and seeing all of Los Angeles spread out in front of us. I think of sitting around the table at our favorite restaurant, chowing down on all the warm, freshly-made tortillas we can eat. I think about sitting on that one bench in an out-of-the-way corridor in the Getty Center museum where you can watch the traffic rushing by on the freeway below and the mansions scattered on the hills just across. I think about walking down Main Street in Disneyland first thing in the morning with Sleeping Beauty's castle looming up ahead, and about singing "yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me" until we're hoarse. All those little mental snapshots that you keep when you travel, and that say "I am here, right now. I am present in this great moment and I'm going to savor it." We're going to play and laugh and eat and shop and ride and scream and wring every last drop of enjoyment out of each day.

I can't wait!

A song for Sunday

2011-11-27T17:56:00.001-08:00

Happy Thanksgiving!

2011-11-24T09:56:00.000-08:00

Sing to the LORD, all the earth;
proclaim his salvation day after day.
Declare his glory among the nations,
his marvelous deeds among all peoples.
For great is the LORD and most worthy of praise;
he is to be feared above all gods.
For all the gods of the nations are idols,
but the LORD made the heavens.
Splendor and majesty are before him;
strength and joy in his dwelling place.
Ascribe to the LORD, O families of nations,
ascribe to the LORD glory and strength,
ascribe to the LORD the glory due his name.
Bring an offering and come before him;
worship the LORD in the splendor of his holiness.
Tremble before him, all the earth!
The world is firmly established; it cannot be moved.
Let the heavens rejoice, let the earth be glad;
let them say among the nations, “The LORD reigns!”
Let the sea resound, and all that is in it;
let the fields be jubilant, and everything in them!
Then the trees of the forest will sing,
they will sing for joy before the LORD,
for he comes to judge the earth.
Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good;
his love endures forever.
Cry out, “Save us, O God our Savior;
gather us and deliver us from the nations,
that we may give thanks to your holy name,
that we may glory in your praise.”
Praise be to the LORD, the God of Israel,
from everlasting to everlasting.

1 Chronicles 16:23-36

Giving thanks: an abridged list

2011-11-22T17:12:00.000-08:00

So Thanksgiving week is upon us, and aside from menu planning and grocery shopping and fasting in preparation for the annual eatathon on Thursday, our thoughts naturally turn to taking stock of our lives and counting our blessings. I must confess I hardly know where to start with any kind of inventory of what I'm thankful for this year. I have a pretty great life, and I don't say that to brag, but to acknowledge that God's been much better to me than I deserve.

I'm thankful for a husband that gets me and loves me and makes me laugh and still romances me after twenty years together. I'm thankful for two healthy, funny, quirky children that make my life richer even on the days when I think maybe I can't survive their drama. I'm thankful for parents that give me unconditional support and would drop everything to help me out when I'm in a bind.

I'm thankful for a great school for my kids to go to, and for godly, nurturing teachers that start to feel like part of our family. I'm thankful for the beautiful area in which we live, and the rolling hills, lush valleys, and fall colors all aflame that I can see just by looking out of my windows. I'm thankful for a warm house and a full pantry and a car that gets us where we need to go. I'm thankful for hot, running water whenever I want it. I'm thankful for a strong, healthy body that works just like it should.

I'm thankful for the random things, too. A washer and dryer. Worship music at church. Crisp, cold days. School field trips. Jeans that fit just right. The light over the kitchen sink that makes it easier to see to wash dishes. Flannel sheets. The chance to travel. Agent K offering Pirate Boy her pen in church when she notices the one he's trying to use is all dried up. Doing things that make me feel needed. Sparkly nail polish. A friend who braved public scorn to go see the new Twilight movie with me this week. All the little things that make up real life and sometimes get lost in the living.

And because it doesn't make much sense to be thankful if there's no one that you're thankful to, all gratitude to God, who bestowed on me all these things and to whom I can offer nothing in return but my attempts at an obedient life and my empty hands lifted to the praise of His glory.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.

James 1:17

A song for Sunday

2011-11-20T12:39:00.001-08:00

It's not just a job, it's an adventure

2011-11-16T09:33:00.000-08:00

So, parenting is always interesting, right? Our mornings are like the proverbial box of chocolates, because Agent K (much like myself) isn't really one for rising and shining with the chickens, and wakes up crabby more often than not. (For the record, and in the interest of fairness, she was in a delightful mood yesterday morning and played harmoniously with Pirate Boy all the way to school, making their little animal-shaped erasers talk to each other in the car while I hummed along to worship songs. Miracles do happen.)

But this morning was a more typical day, and Agent K and I got into a spat over being out of milk that culminated in her stomping out of the kitchen to go teach me a lesson by not eating breakfast and me using my most serious Mom voice to tell her to get back to the table and eat her food right now. Silence hung heavy over the house as I got dressed, and we loaded up backpacks and lunchboxes and headed to school. Agent K was cheerful in the car, though, and she chatted pleasantly with Pirate Boy, so I was optimistic that the storm was passing quickly and we could get on with our day. In the parking lot at school, I waited for K to get out of the car, and then put my arm around her. Her arm quickly squeezed me around my waist. "I love you, you know," I said, planting a kiss on her forehead. She smiled. "The thing is, I wasn't mad at you," she admitted. "I was sobered." I was pleasantly surprised, because "sobered," I can live with. In fact, it's kind of the whole point of discipline. But before I spent too much time basking in the glow of her maturity, she went on. "...and I thought maybe you had poisoned me. Like the Duchess of Lexford, back in sixteen-something." Uh...huh. I nodded. "Well, thanks for the vote of confidence."

Clearly, it really is possible for a child to read too much.

The sauce that will change your life

2011-11-14T16:49:00.000-08:00

...Well, maybe not your life, but possibly your dinner hour. I whipped this sauce up today and realized that it's really too good not to share. It's a perfect partner to all kinds of meats -- I've used it on meatballs and ribs with great success, and I have it in the crock pot with some chicken thighs right now -- that is sweet, spicy, tangy and sticky and just plain delicious.

Without further ado...

Chipotle-Honey Sauce
from somewhere on the Internet

1/2 cup honey
2 to 3 whole chipotle peppers in adobo sauce
1/3 cup chicken broth
1/3 cup tomato paste
1 Tablespoon lime juice
2 teaspoons Dijon mustard
1/2 teaspoon salt

In a food processor or blender, combine all ingredients and process until smooth. Pour over meats before baking or slow cooking, or brush on while barbecuing.

Enjoy!

A song for Sunday

2011-11-13T19:52:00.001-08:00

A day in my shoes

2011-11-10T20:25:00.000-08:00

Today I wore these shoes

while I

vacuumed the downstairs
did four loads of laundry
destroyed two levels of Lego Star Wars on Wii (all work and no play makes Wendy a dull girl)
ate a piece of candy from each of my children's Halloween buckets, because, you know, you have to be fair
took Pirate Boy out for an ice cream cone while Agent K went to a friend's house for a sleepover
played Legos with my boy
used my spiritual gift of administration to manage all the duplicate sign-ups for food items for the fifth grade Thanksgiving feast
cooked spaghetti and meatballs that Pirate Boy actually ate and liked (!!!)
went to practice for worship team on Sunday
read Islands magazine while I ate dinner and dreamed of exotic vacations
washed dishes
made a batch of chocolate-pumpkin bread

and

wrote this blog post

Everybody has a price

2011-11-09T09:23:00.000-08:00

On Saturday, we spent a little time in the car driving to McGyver's parents' house, and our kids can always be counted on for interesting car conversation.

Pirate Boy: Mom, would you touch a dead rat for a million dollars?
Me: For a million dollars, yes. I would touch a dead rat.
PB: K, would you touch a dead rat for a million dollars?
Agent K: Yes.
PB: I would touch a cow's ear for a million dollars.
AK: Well, touching a cow's ear isn't that bad. That's easy.
PB: Yeah...Mom, would you eat molasses for a million dollars?
Me: Oh yeah, I love molasses. I totally would.
PB: Ew, molasses is disgusting! We tried it at school once, and it was nasty.
AK: I love molasses too. It's so good!
PB: Ewwww. Mom, would you drink a whole bottle of molasses for a million dollars?
Me: Sure! Actually, I'd do it for less than a million dollars.
McGyver: She'd do it for a new car.
Me: True...I'd do it for an iPad.

How does that quote go..."while we try to teach our children all about life, our children teach us what life is all about?" There you go. My child taught me that apparently it wouldn't take much to get me to drink a bottle of molasses.

Justice

2011-11-07T09:53:00.000-08:00

So today, sure, I have to go grocery shopping and take Pirate Boy's class to the library, but my most important task by far will be mediating a custody dispute over a stuffed animal. It might not sound that hard, but in this case both parties have vivid and compelling (and obviously conflicting) recollections of original ownership and the waters have been muddied by the animal in question being allowed to spend the night in the beds of both children at various times. The situation has become even more complicated by the fact that said animal has a rattle in its tummy. One child has asked me to perform a rattle-ectomy so that the animal is not noisy during sleeping hours, while the other, currently non-custodial child, clutched the animal to his heart and lamented that "the rattle is what I love about him!"

I'm preparing to hear opening arguments when the litigants come home from school. Here's hoping I don't have to resort to King Solomon's solution.

A song for Sunday

2011-11-06T14:01:00.001-08:00

Friday favorites

2011-11-04T16:06:00.000-07:00

Let me introduce you to my new favorite sweet treat. Last weekend, my friend Stephanie posted on Facebook that she was making some amazing pumpkin spice latte cupcakes. Being a huge fan of the Starbucks drink, I was intrigued. More posts followed about how incredible her house smelled, and other friends chimed in to verify that these creations were, in fact, delicious and easy to make. I shamelessly begged her for the recipe, and imagine my delight when, on Monday morning, she presented me with a copy of the recipe and a cupcake of my very own to try.

Y'all. These little beauties more than lived up to the hype. Moist, spicy, fluffy, and topped with a puff of sweet whipped cream, they're everything we all love about pumpkin spice lattes in cupcake form. Make them this weekend. You'll be as grateful to Stephanie as I am.

Pumpkin Spice Latte Cupcakes
Makes 24 cupcakes

2 2/3 cups flour
3 Tbsp. espresso powder
2 tsp. baking soda
2 tsp. baking powder
1 tsp. ground cinnamon
1/8 tsp. grated nutmeg
1/8 tsp. ground cloves
1 tsp. salt
1 15-oz. can pumpkin puree
1 cup sugar
1 cup brown sugar
1 cup vegetable oil
4 large eggs
1/2 cup coffee or espresso, for brushing

2 1/4 cups heavy cream
1/4 cup powdered sugar

Preheat the oven to 350. Line cupcake pans with paper liners. In a medium bowl, combine the flour, espresso powder, baking soda, baking powder, cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves and salt. Stir together and set aside. In the bowl of an electric mixer, blend together the pumpkin, sugar, brown sugar and oil. Add the eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition. With the mixer on low speed, add the flour mixture in two additions, mixing until just incorporated.
Fill the cupcake liners about three quarters full. Bake until the cupcakes are golden brown and a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean, 18-20 minutes. Transfer the pans to a wire rack and let cool for 10 minutes, the remove cupcakes from the pans. While the cupcakes are still warm, brush them two or three times with the coffee or espresso, allowing the first coat to soak in before repeating. Let cool completely.
Place the heavy cream in the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the whisk attachment. Whip on medium-low speed at first, gradually increasing to high speed. Blend in the powdered sugar gradually. Whip until stiff peaks form, being careful not to overbeat. Dollop the whipped cream on top of the cooled cupcakes. Sprinkle with ground cinnamon. Store in an airtight container and refrigerate.

Enjoy!

Can you hear me now?

2011-11-03T11:23:00.000-07:00

So. How's it going? I ended up taking an unplanned, unannounced, born-out-of-sheer-laziness blogging break for October, and I have to admit, it was just what I needed. Sometimes I just completely lose my writing mojo, and I'd rather post nothing than post something that I wrote when I wasn't feeling it. But I did a lot in October!

I spent the better part of the month making Halloween costumes. Fifteen yards of satin, three spools of thread, and two patterns later, we were all decked out as the White Queen (Agent K), the Red Queen (me), and the Red Queen's knight (Pirate Boy). It was actually really fun to go trick-or-treating with the kids -- I had never gone before since I'm usually relegated to handing-out-candy duty, but since I was in costume, Agent K told me that not only did I need to escort them, but, "you have to come up on the porches with us" -- and we got lots of compliments on our costumes, although most people didn't know who we were. I'm always kind of surprised that the combined power of Disney, Johnny Depp, and classic literature didn't get more people in seats for Alice in Wonderland. The lowlight of the night was one guy asking Agent K if she was Lady Gaga, which...really? Oh well. We had a blast anyway.

I ate lots of candy and cookies and bread and pastries and didn't work out hardly at all. But that's all going to change today! We are one month out from a long-awaited trip to Disneyland, and I'm starting my detox so I can be a lean, mean, Pirates-of-the-Caribbean-riding machine for it. There's nothing worse than realizing after spending a twelve-hour day on your feet that you should have been doing more cardio to prepare. Now if I can just resist the siren call of the Halloween candy...

I did eat one of the best cupcakes of my life, which I will have to make soon so I can share them with you.

I agreed to do something that is not even on the same page of the map as my comfort zone, but it was clearly a God thing, so I said yes. I'll tell you about it after it's over. (No, unlike most bloggers these days, it's not a book deal. But if anybody's reading who wants to offer me a book deal, hook a sister up.)

I went on a fantastic outing with my family. The kids had a day off of school, so McGyver surprised me by taking the day off as well and treating us to an epic Bay Area mall crawl and zoo visit that culminated in dinner at one of my favorite restaurants. It was a fabulous day that was just what we needed in a month full of house and yard projects and too many weekends spent doing the Costco and Target run.

I enjoyed the fall weather which has finally come to Northern California. Right now it's a chilly, mid-sixties day with a cloudy sky, and I'm so happy to be able to wear the same outfit all day instead of changing four times. Bring on the hot chocolate and soup and homemade bread and cozy sweaters and knee socks and scarves and new jackets and boots.

I was blessed by the compassion and lovingkindness of God, who sends encouragement into our lives when we're too wretched to even ask for it. Little things that probably noone else would notice were big things to me, lifelines in the midst of discouragement and gentle whispers of comfort that tell me things can work out after all.

And that was October.

The LORD upholds all who are falling and raises up all who are bowed down. The eyes of all look to you, and you give them their food in due season. You open your hand; you satisfy the desire of every living thing.
Psalm 145:14-16

A song for Sunday

2011-10-02T09:30:00.000-07:00

Five more things I could watch on continuous loop forever

2011-09-30T14:01:00.000-07:00

So I've neglected the blog, again, this week. But let's head into the weekend with some more viewables that are funny, beautiful, touching, powerful, amazing, or all of the above.

1. Othello, "I hate the Moor"
For my money, Othello is Shakespeare's darkest, scariest work, and nobody does Shakespeare better than Kenneth Branagh. This brilliant scene from the 1995 movie is just a taste of how skillfully he brings Iago, Othello's malicious, Machiavellian henchman to life.

2. Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End blooper reel
If there was any doubt in your mind that Johnny Depp is made of pure awesomeness, this should clear it up.

3. "I'm a teenage girl"
These days, we TiVo just about everything we watch, so as to avoid commercials, but we'll actually stop and rewind to see Allstate's hilarious "mayhem" spots. This one was the first and, in my opinion, is still the funniest.

4. George Clooney gets married
Once upon a time, I had the biggest crush on George Clooney. I may have even referred to him exclusively as...um... "my boyfriend George." And then, somehow, my fondness waned...his politics became insufferably liberal, his avowed bachelorhood became less "charismatic player-of-the-field" and more "smug commitmentphobe," and his string of girlfriends became longer and less classy every year. So I broke up with George, and never looked back. However, his undeniable good looks and charm are perfectly suited to this fantastic ad for a Norwegian bank. The first time I saw it, I watched it three times in a row and laughed out loud every time.

5. The Young Victoria, "coronation waltz"
We're still big fans of The Young Victoria around here -- even Agent K watches it quite a bit -- and this scene is just gorgeous. I love her gown, I love the way they capture that butterflies-in-the-stomach feeling of Victoria and Albert's growing attraction to each other, and the sense that they're the only two people in the room as they dance.

Agent K and the Kids These Days

2011-09-26T10:13:00.000-07:00

So Agent K is in the band at school this year for the first time, playing the trumpet...playing it surprisingly better than we expected, to be truthful with you. Our elementary classes have a wonderful music teacher, and one of the great things she does is to allow the students to bring in one of their own CDs to share a favorite song with their bandmates during class.

Perhaps further proof that Agent K is an old soul in a young body, her favorite music in the whole world is by The Franz Family, an insanely talented group of singers/musicians/songwriters whose music is kind of a bluegrass/old-school country blend, and whom we've seen several times in performance at our church. (Last time they were here, we had the chance to meet and chat with them, and it was a joy to find that they're as gracious and friendly as they are musically gifted.) So naturally Agent K was eager to share one of her favorite Franz Family songs with the rest of the band.

We piled into the car at the end of the school day, and I asked her, "so, what did everybody think of your CD?" "Eh, I don't think they liked it so much," she replied with a shrug. I confess, I wasn't completely surprised. "Well, most ten- and eleven-year-olds probably aren't big fans of bluegrass," I consoled her. She sighed. "These people, with their rock and their roll...but I think The Franz Family is good music!"

Keep marching to your own beat, sister. But you might want to wait a few years before you start yelling at kids to get off of the lawn.

A song for Sunday

2011-09-25T12:37:00.001-07:00

Summer reading roundup, part 2

2011-09-19T16:50:00.000-07:00

More thoughts on the books I plowed through this summer...

Crazy Love, by Francis Chan
Loved this one. It deserves its own post.

My Life in France, by Julia Child
I so enjoyed this book! The story of Julia's early days in France with her husband Paul, and the cozy, wonderful life they carved out for themselves, made me want to pack up and go have overseas escapades of my own. I loved the stories of their tiny Paris apartments, the idiosyncrasies of life in a foreign country, the friends they made, the incredible meals they ate in little bistros, and of course Julia's journey to fame as a chef and teacher. The writing is vivid and colorful, and I could see everything in my mind's eye as if I were with Julia and Paul, rattling along country roads in their shiny black car, looking for their next adventure. I will admit to finding the latter part of the book a bit sad, as the glamorous life of the young couple gave way to the difficulties of aging and the heartache of their inability to have children was really felt. Although Julia was never self-pitying about it, her observation that their other friends all had grandchildren to help them in their later years was so poignant. Overall, a wonderful read that I highly recommend to anyone who's a fan of Julia Child (and really, who isn't?).

Memoirs of an English Governess in the Siamese Court, by Anna Leonowens
Another one that I didn't get to. I read the first chapter and was really impressed with the writing...little gems like "I rose before the sun, and ran on deck to catch an early glimpse of the strange land we were nearing; and as I peered eagerly, not through mist and haze, but straight into the clear, bright, many-tinted ether, there came the first faint, tremulous blush of dawn, behind her rosy veil; and presently the welcome face shines boldly out, glad, glorious, beautiful, and aureoled with flaming hues of orange, fringed with amber and gold, wherefrom flossy webs of color float wide through the sky, paling as they go" made me eager to read the rest eventually.

That Extra Half an Inch: Hair, Heels, and Everything in Between, by Victoria Beckham
Definitely the most fun book I read all summer. I took this one to Mammoth Lakes with me and spent relaxing evenings in the condo burning through it. My opinion that Victoria Beckham would be a blast to hang out with was only solidified by this book; she's funny, down-to-earth, and so far from taking herself too seriously that you can't help but enjoy her voice. There's also lots of solid fashion advice here, and not just for people who have the Beckhams' income. The fact that VB apparently buys clothes at Gap and H&M as well as from temples of couture made me like her even better. In short, my patron saint of fashion did not let me down, and I'm so glad I bought her book.

Mamarazzi: Every Mom's Guide to Photographing Kids, by Stacy Wasmuth
I borrowed this book from the library, but I think you'd have to own it and really pore over it to get the most out of the information it has to offer. There are so many great examples of kid photos, and technical tips for achieving similar results, and I think I'd have to sit with it for a couple of months to get over my camera stupidity and try all the techniques she recommends. A good choice if you have basic camera knowledge, take lots of pictures of your children, and want to take your shots to the next level.

So that was it...I had a great time reading all of these, and I think it did me good to make a list and make the effort to fit some reading into my day beyond skimming the catalogs that come in the mail. Next up: thinking up my list for fall and winter!

A song for Sunday

2011-09-18T12:38:00.001-07:00

Summer reading roundup, part 1

2011-09-16T13:21:00.000-07:00

It seems like only yesterday that I was making plans for summer vacation and all the things I wanted to accomplish, and now here we are with the Christmas things on display at Costco. One of my goals for summer was to do a lot of reading, and my list was admittedly a little ambitious. So how did I do? Read on...

Grace Abounding to the Chief of Sinners, by John Bunyan
I didn't get to this one, but still really want to read it...perfect incentive to make a fall/winter reading list!

Into Thin Air, by Jon Krakauer
Read and reviewed this one.

The Hunger Games, by Suzanne Collins
I capital-L loved this book. I was completely surprised by how much I enjoyed the entire Hunger Games trilogy, which I ended up reading after I couldn't put down the first book until I'd finished it and immediately went to the library to get on the waiting list for the other two books because I was dying to know what happened next. It's the story of Katniss Everdeen, a teenage girl living in a sort of post-apocalyptic America that has been broken down into twelve districts, all controlled by a cruel dictatorship government. Each year, every district is forced to send two of its young people into a brutal, gladiatorial battle to the death called the Hunger Games, of which the last man standing is the victor. The three books deal with Katniss' journey through the games and their aftermath, and the whole premise is the most original idea I've seen in a long time. The characters are compelling and well-developed, the story flows well while still taking the reader by surprise: the ending of the second book (Catching Fire) was both shocking and exciting, and there is a twist in the final chapters of the third book (Mockingjay) that made me literally gasp out loud. I saved Mockingjay for our trip to San Luis Obispo in August and devoured it as we made the long drive south, so engrossed that I kept doing that thing where you suddenly realize someone is talking to you and go "huh? what?" I just kept offering the apology, "this book is SO GOOD!" Best of all, the series ended on an unexpectedly sweet note that actually made me tear up to see our heroine make peace with all she'd been through. If these books were movies (well, they will be soon, but...you know...the books), I'd rate them at least PG-13...there's no sex, but enough violence that they're definitely not for the younger set, at least in my house.

Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, by Amy Chua
I'm still waiting on this one from the library. Apparently the media frenzy created a long waiting list.

31 Days to Clean: Having a Martha House the Mary Way, by Sarah Mae
This book definitely has some good hands-on tips for better housekeeping. I also really appreciated the many Scriptures that are included by way of motivation, whether it's to be diligent in our daily work, or to be loving and patient with our husbands and children, or to be faithful in our time with God. I was reminded of the importance of my role as a homemaker and a wife and mother, and that I have the ability to set the tone in our home, not only with the environment I maintain, but with my attitude. All good things to think about! As far as the practical application of the 31-day plan detailed here...I think it depends on your personality and working style. For me, the idea of doing one specific task around the house each day for 31 days really wasn't going to work. I found it reminiscent of the "Flylady" approach (which the author also references) that doing a little bit of cleaning is better than doing none, and to set a timer for fifteen minutes and only get done what you can in that time, and that kind of tactic just goes against my grain. When I clean, I want to do the whole job and do it well, so I tend to bite off large chunks and spend the time it takes to complete the task. But that's strictly personal preference, and I'm sure many people would be just fine with the 31-day approach in this book. The only other issue I had with this one -- and again, this is my problem, not the author's -- is that it's written in a kind of cute/cheerful/"girlfriend" style that didn't really resonate with me. Does it make me a bad person if I have trouble connecting with someone who says "kiddos" and "prego" as a rule, and without a hint of irony? Feel free to put me on the prayer chain if you feel led. I actually didn't realize until after finishing the book that author Sarah Mae is a contributor to "Raising Homemakers," a blog with which I have philosophical differences, so thankfully my opinion of the book wasn't colored or predetermined by that.

Whew! So that's part one...stay tuned for the rest of the list on Monday...

Pirate Boy's finger: 2, Wendy's eye: 0

2011-09-14T09:53:00.000-07:00

On Sunday afternoon, we were just about to head out for a fun family bike ride, and I was just doing a little wrestling around with Pirate Boy before I got dressed in my biking clothes. As we were roughhousing and flailing and laughing, he managed to accidentally swing his little hand around and shove his finger right into my left eye. Interestingly enough, he actually did the same thing to the same eye years ago when he was a baby, so slowly but surely I'm building my case for elder abuse. He apologized profusely, but instead of a bike ride, I spent the afternoon lying down with my eyes closed because it hurt to keep my eye open. Thankfully, an exam at the doctor on Monday revealed that I had escaped any real damage, so onward and upward. I didn't get away completely unscathed, however, because since I was there, the doctor recommended that I get the whooping cough/tetanus booster shot for which I was long overdue. After hemming and hawing and mulling it over, I agreed, and let me tell you, when they say your arm will be sore for a few days, they are not -- as my dad would say -- whistling Dixie. I've completely fallen off of the exercise wagon since Monday because I can barely lift my arm! Although, I didn't get much sympathy when I decided to complain to McGyver last night, along the lines of, "wow, I can't even sleep on my left side, my shoulder is so sore." Probably something to do with that having been the story of his life for the last seven months.

In other news, I braved a trip to Target yesterday, on the very day of the Missoni for Target launch. People have gone insane, y'all. The displays were cleaned out, except for a few sad little items, and people were walking around with carts loaded with Missoni goods, asking sales associates if there was any more in the back, asking other shoppers where they had found things...I kept wondering if they even liked the stuff they were buying, or if they were just grabbing things because they were there. I can't imagine not asking yourself at some point if you really needed the matching serving tray, picture frame, makeup bag, cardigan, martini glasses, toss pillow and shoes, but I don't know their lives. I overheard one associate telling somebody it was like Black Friday that morning. Later I read that some Targets had people lined up outside at 6:00 am, and there were reports of shoppers actually pushing and shoving and fighting over stuff. CRAY-zee. And I don't even think the collection is that great, but I guess I'm not a serious Missoni fan. Now, if it was Liberty of London I might have been there at 6:00, throwing elbows.

Welp, my messy house beckons, and I'm going to try to get a batch of cornbread into the oven before it gets too hot. I am more than ready for fall weather and sweaters and boots and hot chocolate and homemade bread and even rainy days, but I'm not going to get them today.

Friday thoughts

2011-09-09T13:24:00.000-07:00

This is probably going to be one of those posts with no inherent value other than to let me look back a year from now and see what exactly I was thinking on this date, but what the heck, I'm ready if you are.

My eyebrow is so sore today. Why? I'm glad you asked. Last night, I was doing bedtime prayers with Pirate Boy. I bent over his bed, listening to his cherubic little voice asking God to help him and all his classmates get 100% on their worksheets at school, and because I was being super-holy and closing my eyes, I never saw it coming when he decided that it would be a fitting end to his prayer to suddenly fling himself into the air with the velocity of a space shuttle launch, which was appropriate because I think I saw stars when his head connected with my browbone. I honestly didn't expect "It's safer to kneel for prayer time" to be one of the life lessons I would learn from parenthood, but there you go.

Let me introduce you to my new obsession: What Kate Wore. It's a site devoted to the fabulous fashions of the former Kate Middleton, ferreting out exactly what brands and items she's wearing and where you can get them yourself (assuming you have quite a bit of spare change lying around the manor). I don't know whether to be impressed or frightened by the level of dedication involved here, but it's a fun site and a great source of fuel for anyone's copyKate fantasies.

Speaking of fashions, Agent K is going to spend the afternoon at the mall with a couple of her friends today (escorted by a mom, of course), and once again I feel like if I blink, she'll be eighteen. When did she get old enough that a mall crawl is her idea of fun? What happened to getting together to play Barbies and Polly Pockets and read Magic Tree House books? Pardon me while I sing a few bars of "Sunrise, Sunset."

...Okay, I'm back. Pirate Boy had himself a momentous occasion this week, when he jumped off of the diving board at the pool! It took him a few minutes and a lot of encouragement to psych himself up, but he finally took the plunge (literally) and jumped off of that board and into my waiting arms while we all cheered him on. Thinking back to where he was a few years ago, it seems like a miracle, and I'm so proud of my brave little guy.

I broke up with sugar this week, again. It usually manages to woo me back, but this time I really mean it, it's over between us. I've been working hard on being diligent with my exercise these days, thanks mainly to my little accountability posse I formed with two girlfriends, but it makes no sense to huff and puff my way through the 30-day shred every day and then sabotage myself with my food choices. Mmmmm...sweet, sweet sabotage. Anyway. I was already a fan of agave nectar and carob chips, and lately I've discovered coconut sugar, and you know, I can make a pretty darn tasty fruit crumble with unrefined sweeteners that I really enjoy for dessert. But I'd be kidding both of us if I said I'd turn down a peanut butter cup if somebody offered me one. I'm not made of stone, people.

So, that's about it. Next week, I'm planning to (finally) review the books I read over the summer. Until then, have a great weekend and enjoy some dessert for me.

A song for Sunday

2011-09-04T13:00:00.001-07:00

Two for tea

2011-09-01T09:51:00.000-07:00

For our tea menu for Agent K's Alice in Wonderland party, I made a couple of my favorite recipes...tender, buttery scones and an orange-flavored whipped cream to slather on them. They're both delicous, insanely easy to make, and perfect for any tea, brunch, shower, or maybe even after-school snack, on your schedule.

Plain Scones
adapted from Tyler Florence's Real Kitchen

2 cups flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons sugar
5 tablespoons butter, cold, cut into chunks
1 cup heavy cream

Preheat the oven to 400. Whisk together the flour, baking powder, salt and sugar. Using your fingers, rub the butter into the flour mixutre until well-incorporated (the mixture should look like coarse crumbs). Make a well in the center and pour in the heavy cream. Stir everything together just to mix. Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface and gently pat into a rectangle about 12 x 3 inches. Cut the rectangle in half, making two squares. Cut each square in fourths, then cut each fourth in half diagonally to make triangles. Put the scones on an ungreased cookie sheet and bake 15-20 minutes, until golden brown. Serve with whipped cream and jam, if desired.

Orange Cream
from Clover Stornetta Farms

1/2 cup sugar
2 teaspoons grated orange rind
1/2 cup orange juice
1 cup heavy cream

Combine the sugar, orange rind and orange juice in a small saucepan. Bring to a boil, stirring only until the sugar dissolves. Simmer 10 minutes without stirring. Cool completely. Whip the cream until soft peaks form, then gently fold in the orange syrup. Serve with scones, fresh fruit, or cake.

Conversations with a tweenager

2011-08-31T09:14:00.000-07:00

Me: See, the thing is, Justin Bieber has a girl's face. I mean, literally, he really does look like a girl.
Agent K: I know! He's so lame.
Me: And yet...Selena Gomez? Please. She can do so much better.
Agent K: I know! I mean, she used to date Nick Jonas!
Me: Nick Jonas is cute.
Agent K: I know! Nick Jonas is almost as handsome as dad!

...The moments when you realize that you are, in fact, the parent of a preteen daughter. The fact that I not only know who Justin Bieber is, but am devoting gray cells to being bothered that a pretty little Disney starlet is wasting her time on him is just one of the many surprises in the adventure of parenthood.

I just hope McGyver appreciates this fleeting era in which he's still the gold standard for good-looking guys.

The Facebook conundrum

2011-08-30T13:52:00.000-07:00

So...Facebook. I was one of the last people I know to join, because for the longest time I was one of those culture snobs who thought social networking sites were lowbrow time-wasters that no adult had any business with. And then a lot of people I knew joined Facebook, and suddenly you couldn't swing a cat at church on Sundays without hitting somebody who was chatting with somebody else about their Facebook, which sort of made me some kind of Luddite rebel, and I was okay with that too.

And then my mom joined Facebook. I could only listen to so many anecdotes about my mother and her posse of girlfriends and their antics on Facebook without being shamed into getting my own account, so I did.

And I loved it. The rush of finding out all the "where are they now" on everyone I went to high school with (He married her? She works there? He used to be so good-looking?)...the excitement of getting new friend requests...the joy of reconnecting with dear friends far away...the fun of spinning your daily adventures into one pithy paragraph and sitting back to wait for the feedback. I wasn't blogging at the time, so it was a fun outlet, and I was hooked.

But I started to discover there are downsides, too. For one thing, I found that it's really easy to get hyper-concerned with the image that I'm presenting. Does my profile picture make me look pretty?...Does that comment make me sound witty, or cool, or (if you want to talk about serious pitfalls) super-spiritual?...Hmmm, that person's going to see this comment that I'm making to that other person, so I'm going to spend ten minutes wordsmithing it so it has just the right tone that might impress...I need to grow my friend list, it's so much smaller than everyone else's...I thought it would be nice to message that casual acquaintance with a note of encouragement, but do they think I'm weird now, or a stalker? I don't know about you, but I can quickly become so entangled in self-consciousness and vanity that I'm busy promoting myself and yet second-guessing the good I want to do.

Of course, there's also the danger of becoming a little too careless with our words when we're throwing them out there for public consumption all day long. Once, in trying to be funny, I made a comment to someone that I realized later could have been taken in a completely rude and hurtful way. I made contact privately and apologized profusely for the potential offense, and the person was gracious and forgiving, but that realization that I might have wounded someone with my off-the-cuff attempt at humor was the worst feeling in the world. I was drastically humbled, and learned a valuable lesson about thinking before I speak.

These days, I spend a lot less time talking on Facebook and a lot more time listening. I'm not saying I'm a candidate for sainthood -- just today I pretty much redefined the word "petty" by looking up a college boyfriend, cackling out loud at his miniscule friend list and patting myself on the back one more time for having dodged that bullet -- but I am trying to get over myself and work on building up other people instead. Baby steps?

When words are many, sin is not absent, but he who holds his tongue is wise.

Proverbs 15:26

Down the rabbit hole

2011-08-29T09:59:00.000-07:00

On Saturday, we hosted a little group of Agent K's friends for her long-awaited birthday party. After months of coming up with ideas and weeks of executing them, I was really pleased with the finished product, especially when one of the girls said, "I feel like I'm in the movie of Alice in Wonderland!" Mission accomplished!

There were a lot of special touches that created the Wonderland mood, starting with the guests' entrance.

This little tableau introduced our guests to the theme of the day...the "eat me" cake, the key that Alice uses to unlock the door to the garden, and the white roses clumsily painted red by the Queen's guards. I also made a CD of songs from both the classic Disney Alice in Wonderland and the newer Tim Burton version and put a CD player in the living room window overlooking the porch, so the girls would hear the music as they approached the door.

The painted roses were a happy accident when my original idea didn't pan out -- I had planned to make a topiary with silk flowers and greenery, but after an exploratory trip to the craft store where I learned that a styrofoam ball costs fifteen dollars (???) and silk flowers are two to three dollars a stem, I decided to just buy a real rosebush and actually paint the flowers red. So instead of spending upwards of forty bucks to make a fake topiary, I went to Home Depot and got a rock rose and a tester of red paint for about ten dollars. It turned out to be a serendipitous setback, because I liked the end result even better, and now I can just plant the rosebush in my yard.

Just inside the front door, I had this little display of direction signs with place names from Wonderland (again, some from the animated version and some from the recent one).

These fabrics were really my only splurge for the party, but I loved them so much, I just couldn't pass them up. I debated long and hard over what exactly to do with them, considering everything from a fabric bunting to placemats, but I settled on a tablecloth because it would not only be perfect for the party but also be something I could use again.

We served a tea menu of ham sandwiches (made by McGyver...isn't he a peach?), pink champagne cupcakes, chocolate marble cake, scones with whipped cream and jam, punch, and iced tea. After my two days of baking, the hands-down favorite treat of the girls was...the bowl of Dove chocolates I put out as an afterthought. C'est la vie. The toppers on the sandwiches were printables I found on a Disney site and taped to toothpicks.

Our "dormouse" in the teapot (actually a chipmunk, but as long as his tail was hidden, noone was any the wiser).

For the party favors, I wanted to include the most iconic images from the Alice story: the "eat me" growing cake and the "drink me" bottles of shrinking potion. Each guest received a piece of our very own "uppelkuchen," which I interpreted as apple spice cake with cream cheese icing and "eat me" marked out in currants, and a jar of "pishsalver potion." I created the recipe to incorporate the cherry tart, custard, and pineapple flavors that are mentioned in the book (I figured the roast turkey aspect might not go over too well), so I mixed equal parts cream soda and pineapple juice and added a few tablespoons of grenadine. The finished potion looked beautiful and tasted a lot like pineapple upside-down cake.

Along with cake and potion, the favor bags also included an assortment of cute bookmarks and door hangers that I printed from the same Disney site where I got the sandwich toppers.

Of course, this was Agent K's party...you didn't think I'd leave fashion out of it, did you? I whipped up these applique t-shirts for us -- the White Queen's crown for her and the Red Queen's heart for me.

So, the girls ate and visited, and then I turned them over to McGyver for games, which included an elaborate treasure hunt -- complete with buried clues that had to be found using a compass and tape measure -- and a spirited water balloon fight. After trickling in to open gifts and pick at the tea table some more, everyone headed home with smiles on their faces. It was really gratifying to see Agent K and her guests have so much fun, and to hear the cries of "oh, that's so cool!" as they discovered all the little details we'd worked so hard to pull together.

Although Agent K isn't particularly effusive, she did look up from her computer game later that evening to say, "oh, by the way, thanks for the party, Mom. It was really fun." And this morning, that makes washing dishes and scrubbing chocolate out of the carpet all worth it.

A song for Sunday

2011-08-28T13:14:00.001-07:00

It's a random kind of day

2011-08-24T13:14:00.000-07:00

So, we're in the final countdown to Agent K's Alice in Wonderland birthday bash on Saturday, and I'm starting to feel like Will and Kate's wedding was just a little shindig a few people threw together by comparison. I spent this morning finding packaging for favors (which are going to be AWESOME) and scouring thrift stores for teapots to decorate the food table. Do you know, the Salvation Army store wants $15.50 for a teapot without a lid? What kind of rube do they take me for? But I'll show them when everything is half off on Friday and I go back and clean up on teapots. The party planning process (say that five times fast) has made me realize that -- as with most things in life -- throwing a party is infinitely easier when money is no object. I have a hard and fast rule that I won't spend a lot of money on anything that's a themed, one-time-use party decoration that will end up gathering dust in the garage before getting thrown away, so I'm having to be creative and resourceful and do a lot of brainstorming in the aisles of craft supply stores when I find out my original idea is either unavailable or crazy expensive. But I do think the party is going to be fabulous, and that Agent K and her friends will love it, and I can't wait to share pictures of all the details.

Pirate Boy spent the last two days home from school with a cold. I never thought I'd say this, but his new discovery of Lego "Ninjago" makes me want to go back to talking about Star Wars all day long. I only know it's about ninjas and skeletons and dragons and some Dark Lord So-and-so, but I'm being quizzed for hours on end about which ninja I think is the coolest and which dragon I think would be hardest to fight, and whether I think ice or fire or lightning would hurt more, and it's all Greek to me. Really mind-numbing Greek.

Today I made the appointment for my yearly visit with the dermatologist. My pasty Scottish-German skin combined with an abundance of moles means that I have to be vigilant not only about sunscreen, but regular exams to check for anything that looks suspicious. (And you should too! End of PSA.) So for years I went to Dr. Smith. He was elderly and bald and resembled the Cryptkeeper both in appearance and charming bedside manner. Then he retired, and his practice was taken over by a new doctor...a doctor who is young, personable, good-looking, and wears designer jeans and nice shoes. I'm never quite sure how I feel about this. Here is an illustration of my thought process:

Dr. Smith may have made no secret of being burned out on doctoring, but I never thought twice about stripping down for the exam. Now I'm self-conscious like I'm on that old TV show "Hot or Not," and Lorenzo Lamas is about to whip out a laser pointer any minute and start criticizing my midriff. Oh well. At least it's only once a year.

Looking at my blog stats the other day, I noticed that someone found me by Googling "hot guys in hiking shorts."

Ask and ye shall receive.

So that's me, offloading my thoughts for the day.

As you were.

Eavesdropping -- "way to miss the point" edition

2011-08-22T09:17:00.000-07:00

Both of the following conversations occurred while we were driving with our little Bible scholars to church on Sunday...

Me: Well, Pirate Boy, if you're not feeling well, you could always sit with me and Dad in the service instead of going to children's church.
Pirate Boy: (thinks for a minute) ...Yeah, I think I'll go to children's church. They have better entertainment, and sometimes snacks.

Pirate Boy, to Agent K: I wish I had my remote control ATV right now, and it would be so funny, because I would drive it right into your foot.
Agent K: Well, maybe I'll drive my foot into your bum.
Me, to McGyver: That's from your side of the family.

A song for Sunday

2011-08-21T14:43:00.000-07:00

She goes up to eleven

2011-08-19T13:44:00.000-07:00

Today is this little cowgirl's eleventh birthday. I can hardly believe it...and yet I can hardly remember what she was like when she was a chubby-cheeked toddler in ponytails (which she always called "earmuffs"). What can I say about Agent K? She's witty, adventurous, well-spoken, unique, fashionable, smart, and fiercely loyal to the people she loves. She's a great companion and a fascinating person to watch in action, whether she's flitting around the playground at school or dreaming up a "pretend" game with her brother at home (the latest is that they're pioneer children and crack shots with four other siblings and lots of important responsibilities).

Twelve and thirteen years ago, I was praying every day that God would bless us with a baby, and so often discouraged because it wasn't happening on my timetable. But He did bless us, and it's a strange concoction of exciting, mystifying, and comforting to know that she is the exact soul that was expressly chosen at the exact time for McGyver and me to raise. As many days as the job is difficult (and there are those days), there are those moments when it's just K and me and we're joking or shopping or painting our nails or just having a good talk, and I think there's no one I'd rather spend time with.

So, today, as she turns eleven, I am filled with hopes and wishes and prayers for my daughter...that she will be a shining star, a joyful heart, a peaceful spirit, a compassionate presence...that she will know there is no limit to what she can become...that she'll live a life shaped by a relationship with her Savior and filled with the fruits of His Spirit...that she will really know, deep down, how very much I will always love her.

Happy birthday, precious girl.

I prayed for this child, and the LORD has granted me what I asked of him.

1 Samuel 1:27

Eavesdropping -- fashion edition

2011-08-18T15:29:00.000-07:00

Agent K: Pirate Boy, sit down. I need to ask you some questions. (Opens a Mini Boden catalog to the girls' section)
Pirate Boy: Okay.
K: Do you like that coat?
PB: No.
K: Do you like that top?
PB. Ugh, no! That's hideous.
K: Do you like that dress?
PB: You know, that actually is kind of cute.
K: Do you like that other dress?
PB: No, I don't really care for it.
K: What about with the dots?
PB: That's a little better.
K: Do you like this hat and scarf?
PB: Hideous.
K: Do you like this skirt?
PB: Hideoh-so!
K: Do you like that hoodie?
PB: Hideoh-so. When I shake my head like this, it means hideoh-so.
K: I'm guessing you don't like those polka-dotted pants.
PB: Uh-uh!
K: Sigh. Oh, Pirate Boy. You don't know anything about fashion.

Exhaling

2011-08-16T14:09:00.000-07:00

Well, we all survived the first day of school yesterday. Even though it doesn't seem possible that the summer is really gone, I made lunches and laid out clothes and got the kids up and fed and out the door and off to their new classes. Agent K was super excited about starting fifth grade and -- of course -- put together an appropriately fabulous outfit for the occasion. Pirate Boy was a little more apprehensive, but the moment he spotted me at pick-up time after school, he blurted out, "it was so fun!" That was a relief, even if his newfound enthusiasm for school was mainly due to his teacher giving the kids cupcakes and party noisemakers to celebrate the first day.

I feel like my children are growing up at the speed of light these days, especially Agent K. At almost eleven, the line I walk between coolness and "my mom is so lame" is thinner than ever and, although I kept up my yearly tradition of putting little notes of encouragement in their lunchboxes, I tried to keep it low-key. I asked her, tentatively, after school yesterday, "So, in fifth grade, is it dorky to get notes from your mom in your lunchbox? I mean, I tried not to make it goofy, like, 'make good choices,' or something..." "Oh, no!" she answered brightly. "It's good to get notes. It's fine." Disaster averted. And she did give me a hug when I picked her up at the car line, so I think I'm okay for now. But I'll tell you, the bittersweet journey into the tween years and beyond makes me even more grateful for Pirate Boy's little hand that still slips into mine when I walk him to class in the morning.

I think it's ironic that although I spend fewer hours in the day with my kids during the school year, the job of parenting gets more intense. It's one thing to referee sibling squabbles or enforce chore time when it's just the three of us at home, and it's another thing altogether to help them navigate the deep waters of the outside world, where so much is beyond their control and mine. I can't do anything about it if Pirate Boy is seated next to the biggest troublemaker in the room. (uh...purely hypothetical situation, of course.) I can't nudge Agent K at recess and tell her to go befriend the new girls in her class. I can't make the other kids be nice or teachers be understanding or make my own two choose wisely. But the fallout from all the daily scenarios shapes them and their environment and makes its way back to our house to be dealt with, for better or worse. Needless to say, it's good for my prayer life.

And God is showing me that prayer life is what I need most right now. I had some internal debate over what to do with my early mornings before everyone else in the house gets up, and I felt overwhelmingly that just as I spent the last school year using that time to build up my body with exercise, this year I need to build up my soul and my faith. (1 Timothy 4:8) So, I'm getting up and tiptoeing downstairs and grabbing my Bible and sitting, like Mary, to learn from Jesus. I'm reading and studying and most of all laying the burdens in my heart at the feet of the only One who has them all under control. I could worry and stew and wring my hands over what's going to happen with my children every day at school, or I could pour it all out to God and trust that He knows them and sees them and has their best interests at heart even more than I do. Choose wisely.

Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

Philippians 4:6-7

A song for Sunday

2011-08-14T14:54:00.001-07:00

Hooked on phonics

2011-08-12T16:10:00.000-07:00

Pirate Boy's lunch order, helpfully written on my dry-erase board...

"I'm thinking some toast and cinnamon and some scrambled eggs and some spicy beans"

I love this kid.

Pardon the interruption

2011-08-10T19:06:00.000-07:00

Hey, that's right, I have a blog! Seriously, though, we're in the last precious days (four, to be exact) of summer vacation, and my efforts to get ready for the new school year are making the proverbial chicken with its head cut off look cool and collected by comparison. We've been buying school supplies, getting clothes washed and organized, stocking up on lunchbox snacks, and where did I stash those backpacks back in May, anyway?

I do have goals, though. In the next two weeks, I need to:

Drag myself kicking and screaming back into society after having the luxury of hermiting it up all summer
Get my house back in order
Figure out my morning schedule (exercise, Bible reading, preening and primping, etc.)
Make a whole whack of craft projects for Agent K's upcoming Alice in Wonderland birthday party
Make a plan for the kids' daily responsibilities (homework, Bible reading, chores, instrument practice, etc.)
Get in the habit of getting to bed earlier so I'm not feeling like death warmed over at 6:30 every morning
Take a deep breath and cherish a few hours of quiet every day

Longer-term plans:

Do a slash-and-burn clearout of Agent K's and Pirate Boy's rooms
Take apart and re-tailor a shirt that I sewed over the summer
Start burning through the long list of sewing projects I have written down in my idea notebook
Try to actually make some of the hundreds of recipes I tear out of magazines, bookmark online, and dog-ear in cookbooks
Find my self-discipline and get back on the daily exercise bandwagon before Jillian Michaels hunts me down and yells at me for being a slacker
Read the books from my summer reading list that I didn't get to on vacation
Think of ideas for actual interesting blog posts (as opposed to bullet-point lists) (suggestions, anyone?)
Become a Proverbs 31 wife and mother with unlimited patience, an immaculate house and six-pack abs (yeah, maybe a little too ambitious, you think?)

Also, apropos of nothing, McGyver started watching The Tourist on TV the other night, which made me very conflicted because I can't stand Angelina Jolie about as much as I love Johnny Depp. The end result? Even Johnny couldn't make me sit through it. McGyver says it was better than he expected. So there you go.

Aren't you glad I checked in?

A song for Sunday

2011-08-07T13:28:00.003-07:00

It's my party and I'll cry if I want to

2011-08-05T17:29:00.000-07:00

So, this week I turned f-f-f...sorry. I turned f-f-f...f-f...sigh. I turned forty. How is that possible? I'm still 25 in my mind. And in the interest of keeping it real, I will admit I threw myself quite a pity party to celebrate. It was almost comical, really, because to add insult to injury, the long-coveted and much-anticipated handbag that McGyver ordered for my present ended up getting oversold and his order was cancelled, leaving me shaking my fist at the universe because I couldn't even have a fabulous gift to soften the blow. I'm sure someday I'll laugh about it.

It's hard for someone as vain and insecure as me to find myself squarely in middle age, anticipating a downhill slide ahead. It's downright shameful, especially as a follower of Christ, to be so ensnared in our culture's youth-worship, and I'm trying to pull out of it and see life through a more positive lens. To think less in terms of "I'm soooo old, it's been almost twenty years since I was in college" and more of "cool, I've been in love with McGyver for half my life now." I want to be better than I am, I really do. Less concerned about how I look and more focused on what's in my heart. But darned if it's not hard. There's always the nagging temptation of that desire to be young and cool and beautiful and to be able to look the kids in American Eagle in the eye when you go in to buy a pair of jeans. However, just as there's nothing more pathetic than an aging woman whose presentation betrays her desperation to be young, there's nothing more serene than a woman who grows in wisdom, godliness and contentment as she grows older. And I hope to be that woman.

...Maybe I'll start next week.

Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised.

Proverbs 31:30

In which I cram a short vacation into a long post

2011-08-03T16:53:00.000-07:00

More vacation, you say? Well...yes. Despite just coming off of a marathon drive to Mammoth a couple of weeks ago, I came across a smoking deal at a favorite hotel in San Luis Obispo that I just couldn't pass up, and so it was that we all piled back into the car on Sunday for a quick road trip.

We arrived in SLO in time to spend a leisurely late afternoon exploring, and one highlight we didn't want to miss was Mission San Luis Obispo de Tolosa. Agent K had done a report in fourth grade on this particular mission, but we had never seen it in person, so it was fun to go look at it. Since Mission San Luis Obispo is still an active parish, there is less to tour than at other missions, but they did have an interesting museum and a small garden that was very pretty.

Outside the mission, there was a pretty little plaza with fountains and palm trees that bordered a creek with walking paths. Agent K and Pirate Boy of course took the opportunity to climb on rocks and dip their feet in the water.

After the mission, we checked into our hotel and headed straight for the pool. We bounced back and forth between the refreshing pool and steaming hot tub, our relaxing time marred only by a brassy, bikini-clad baby boomer who attempted to bring us into the hot tub conversation on restaurants in the area by saying to me -- in front of my children -- "So where are you guys going to eat tonight?...Oh, but you have two kids with you, that's no fun." She went on to suggest that McGyver and I should give the kids a pizza and lock them in the room while we went out for a nice dinner ourselves. Lots of responses came to my mind, but none of them really passed the "what would Jesus do?" test, so I told her (with as much of a smile as I could muster) that our children can eat anywhere we can eat, and left it at that. When we did go to dinner, we discovered the deliciousness that is Chipotle, and left asking ourselves "why have we never eaten here before, and why don't we have these places at home??"

Monday morning, we were up and out early to drive to Hearst Castle. The only time McGyver and I had been there before was about fifteen years ago, so we were eager to go back and see it again. We chose the tour of the upstairs suites so we would have the chance to see some of the more private rooms that we hadn't seen on our first visit.

This outing felt like a bit of a gamble because, let's face it, it's not Disneyland, and we had no idea how much the kids would really be interested. Fortunately, we were very pleasantly surprised. I honestly wouldn't have thought that a seven-year-old could enjoy Hearst Castle as much as Pirate Boy did -- the minute our bus pulled up to the castle itself, he exclaimed "whoa! This is awesome!" and went on from there, pointing out all the carvings and ornamentation on the outside of the main house. Agent K loved the little details like ladies' outfits all laid out on the ornate beds in the suites, as if a female guest was due to arrive to dress for dinner any moment. Our tour guide, Rosemary, had a delightful personality and a wealth of knowledge on the history of the property and the scandalous details of its owner's life, and at the end of the day we decided she has the best job in the world.

After our official tour, we were free to wander the hilltop to look at the lush gardens, pools, and "guest cottages" that are bigger than our house. Agent K and I agreed that we would pay cash money to swim in the Neptune Pool. We overheard a conversation between a lady and her granddaughters as she was telling the girls, "this is where we used to swim, and then we would climb up on the statues to sit and dry off."

We watched the castle get smaller and smaller, all the way down the hillside on the bus to the visitors' center, and drove back down the coast toward San Luis Obispo. We did have the good luck to spot some of the famous Hearst zebras mingling with the Angus cattle in the fields by the highway, which was a thrill for everybody. We decided to stop in Morro Bay to spend a little time at the beach, with the huge Morro Rock looming next to the sand. The kids waded and caught hermit crabs and looked for shells while McGyver and I sat on a blanket and soaked up the sun (I have the pink shoulders to prove it).

Our last activity on Tuesday was hiking the Bishop's Peak trail on the outskirts of San Luis Obispo. It was really one of the most enjoyable hikes I've ever been on, because the trail winds up the side of a hill, revealing an ever-expanding view of the city as you climb higher. Pirate Boy was our MVP on this hike...it's hit or miss with him on how motivated he's going to be on a hike, or how much he'll enjoy it, but this time he led the rest of us right up that mountain and climbed to the very top of the boulders that crowned its summit. Agent K and I elected to stop short of the final push to the top and let the boys take the glory of reaching the dizzying heights atop the huge rocks.

We hiked back down sweaty and tired, but exhilarated and with that good feeling that comes with being tired because you've used your body.

About six more hours, and we were home, ready to unpack and enjoy sleeping in our own beds once again. Now begins the logistical and emotional gearing up for the new school year...we have school supplies to buy and lunches to make and schedules to get used to, so there won't be any travel for a while.

Besides...I've already promised McGyver I won't make him drive to anyplace further than Target for at least a few months.

A song for Sunday

2011-07-31T09:14:00.000-07:00

Tedious Thursday

2011-07-28T20:53:00.000-07:00

Not much excitement to talk about today...we did have some unexpected circumstances that made the day slightly more eventful than anticipated but, in the wise words of Captain Jack Sparrow, "complications arose, ensued, were overcome."

I have a rather painful birthday coming up next week (more on that later, if I can get a day pass out of denial to think and write about it), but Agent K absolutely made my day this afternoon when she said, almost frustrated, "I can't think of you as 40 yet...you just look too young!" Somebody get that girl a pony. Two ponies, if she wants.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a date with an elliptical machine because I have to make up for the chocolate-Oreo ice cream I made and "sampled" today. (It was worth it.)

Sleep tight!

Tales from a vacation: Last day

2011-07-26T08:55:00.000-07:00

So here I am on Tuesday, realizing I completely forgot to post a song on Sunday AND write a post to wrap up our vacation saga like I meant to yesterday. It's tough getting old. Anyway...

Friday was one of our nicest, although most unstructured, days. McGyver was planning to go mountain biking on Mammoth Mountain (hopefully without injury) and the kids and I had the day to explore the Village and town a little bit.

Now, you may have noticed that I like food just a little, so it probably won't surprise you when I say that one of our trip's highlights was going to a bakery. But it wasn't just any bakery. We had driven by Schat's Bakery lots of times during the week, and finally my curiosity was so great that I decided the kids and I would stop there for breakfast after dropping McGyver off at the bike rental place. Nothing prepared me for the baked goods nirvana that awaited when we walked in the door. There were three big pastry cases just filled with donuts, maple bars, apple fritters, croissants, churros, cookies, cupcakes and eclairs. Sample trays were set out, and we tried an apricot pound cake that just melted in our mouths. Wrapped-up loaves of cinnamon bread were loaded on tables, and croissant sandwiches stuffed with ham and cheese lay in neat rows. I wanted one of everything, literally. But we decided on a chocolate croissant, a raspberry bear claw, and a cinnamon bun. Clutching our bag of goodies, we booked it on back to our condo to divide the spoils three ways so we could all try everything. On my honor, these were the best pastries I've ever eaten in my life. Each of them was unbelievably tasty, and light as air. The highest compliment I can give is that the cinnamon bun was the best one I've ever had, and it didn't even enter my mind to attempt to recreate it.

After a great start like that, it would have been hard not to have a good day. We walked around the shops in the Village...I ogled stylish (and expensive) clothes at a chichi little boutique, we pressed our noses up against the glass at the chocolate shop to look at the $3 truffles, I sifted through the sale racks of children's outerwear at the Mammoth Mart, and Agent K was especially taken with a little place called Trendy Tots (even though she was much offended by the name: "I'm not a tot...I'm a tween.") that had all manner of cute little fancy outfits, accessories and knick knacks for kids.

We met McGyver for lunch at a shaded table in the Village plaza, and he filled us in on the condition of the trails, the view from the gondola, and the people he'd met during his morning of riding while we ate leftover Mexican food from the night before. After our fearless biker strapped on his helmet and headed back out to catch another trolley up to the mountain, the kids and I decided to spend some time at the pool.

The water, as always, was perfect: so warm you could just slide right in with none of that one-step-at-a-time-now-I'm-used-to-it-so-one-more-step-oooh-that's-cold business. Agent K and Pirate Boy busied themselves playing the "mermaid game," in which they were Atlantica and Triton, children of the Mermaid Queen (me), who was always sending them on dangerous and exciting missions to recover missing jewels in her crown or rescue secret mermaid agents. Also, Agent K and I saw a girl at the pool who looked just like Pippa Middleton.

After our swim, we went back to the condo to lie around and wait for McGyver. One thing this week taught me is that I am indeed glad that we don't have the Disney Channel at home. The kids wanted to be glued to it every moment we were inside, and I can only imagine that there must be some seismic activity in the vicinity of Walt Disney's grave, because, seriously, "My Babysitter is a Vampire?" I mean, okay...I liked Twilight too, but I didn't walk away from it going, "if only there was a vampire-themed show my kids could watch." And that's not to mention the more innocuous shows where you still have 11-year-olds asking each other out on dates. So, yeah...no. Just no.

After McGyver came back to the condo and showered, we went to dinner at a burger place across the street that came highly recommended by a local. The burgers and salads were indeed tasty, and after our meal, we shared one of the best chocolate milkshakes I've had. We strolled back to the Village and played a few rounds of this little game that Pirate Boy had become obsessed with, where you throw beanbags and try to get them into a hole on a wooden target board.

It was a fun way to end the evening, and, let's see, how many times in a row did Team Girls beat Team Boys? Oh, I know...FIVE TIMES. We even had passersby cheering for us by our third or fourth rematch.

We spent our last night in the condo, and in the morning we would pack up and bid a fond farewell to Mammoth Lakes. We drove through Yosemite on the way home, but the valley was more packed than I've ever seen it, and all of my pictures were taken from the car, because we could only find a parking space to get out of the car once.

We finally arrived at home to find the turtles and garden plants still alive, the house ready for some fresh air, and our own cozy beds waiting for us. As much fun as we had on vacation, it was nice to be back, too.

So, after all that, I came to really like Mammoth. It has beautiful scenery, fun things to do, nice people -- almost everywhere we went, someone would strike up a friendly conversation -- and lots of opportunities to relax. At the beginning of the week there, I was incredulous when we'd run into people who would tell us they'd been coming there every summer for the last 20 years. By Friday, I was thinking it might be nice to spend a little time next year lying by that warm pool and eating a cinnamon bun from Schat's.

Tales from a vacation: Day five

2011-07-22T21:30:00.000-07:00

Today is a story that is best told in pictures, because I'm here to tell you, Bodie is a photographer's paradise. This ghost town, the remains of a once-thriving gold mining area, radiates a quaint, lonely, dusty melancholy that creates countless memorable scenes.

First, though, we stopped to see Mono Lake, which had a wild, majestic beauty all its own. We walked through the beautiful new visitor center, checking out all the exhibits of everything from local wildlife to the chemical composition of the lake water to the gorgeous crafts of the Native Americans who made their homes on the lake shore in times past.

Pirate Boy with the biggest chunk of obsidian I've ever seen

And then we walked out the back doors of the visitor center to this spectacular sight.

The brilliant sky stretched across the horizon and the fluffy, blindingly white clouds were captivating, and while McGyver and the kids looked at more exhibits, I kept wandering out to where I had the viewing platform all to myself to enjoy it. Rich Mullins wrote a song that says, "I hear the prairies calling out Your name," and when I look at places like this...I get it, and I sing it on the inside.

We all agreed that we had the same mental picture of Bodie going in: the typical "Western movie" town with a road through the middle of town with a couple of buildings on either side, something we could stroll through pretty quickly. But what we found was a sprawling vista of houses, mining and commercial buildings, a school and a church. You can just imagine the streets and homes bustling with activity.

But when you get closer and peer into the hazy windows and through the tumbledown walls, the quiet, frozen solitude of these abandoned places and objects is almost overwhelming, and I understood, really, why they call it a ghost town.

I was so taken with the church. Everything about it is simple and appealing, and I could easily imagine it being a beacon of wholesomeness and honesty in a town that teemed with brothels, saloons, and lawless men.

There were so many picturesque details here and there...the pressed patterns on metal siding, mechanical equipment left rusty and forlorn, only hinting at its former life of usefulness.

And because we all know I love a good cemetery, we had to go look at the final resting place of many of Bodie's former occupants. The gravestones told so many stories of heartbreak and untimely loss, and being the empathetic (or neurotic, take your pick) sort that I am, I tend to find myself in cemeteries weeping on behalf of children who died 100 years ago. The lump in my throat was so big that I could only point to bring McGyver's attention to the headstone of a girl about Agent K's age. It was worth seeing, though, because some of the carvings were among the most detailed and beautiful I've ever seen.

It was with a full memory card and a full heart that I climbed back into the car for the long, dusty drive down the dirt road back out to the highway. If you're even a little bit interested in history, Bodie is well worth the detour to see, and I'm so glad we decided to plan this side trip that ended up being one of my favorite vacation experiences.

Our streak of good luck continued as we discovered a Mexican restaurant that evening that served actual delicious food, which we wolfed down with gusto, grateful that the community of reviewers on Yelp had not led us astray. After dinner, we went back to the Village and spent a lovely and relaxing evening lolling in the hot tub under the starlit, black sky. Pirate Boy practiced his swimming back and forth across the hot tub while McGyver and I let the jets work over our tired shoulders and feet, and Agent K frolicked like a dolphin in the cool waters of the pool. When the pool area closed at 10:00, we finally dragged ourselves out and wrapped in our towels for the chilly trudge back up to the condo. Between the driving and walking and being turned to prunes by the hot water, we were out like lights in no time.

Did I mention that Mammoth is one of my favorite vacation spots?

Tales from a vacation: Day four

2011-07-20T21:38:00.000-07:00

...And then it was the best vacation day ever! We got up early on Wednesday to go out to Convict Lake, about a 20-minute drive from town, for our horseback ride. I have to admit, I was a little nervous about it on account of Pirate Boy -- although the outfitters had assured McGyver that they've taken lots of seven-year-olds, he just seems so little to me -- and maybe a little on account of myself, since on my last experience riding horses I found myself a bit intimidated by the animals.

We drove on a lonely road to the Convict Lake Resort, a cute little compound with a campground, a general store and a restaurant besides the stables. Graceful birch trees fluttered their leaves all around the store, where we stopped to check in, and the mountains were huge and especially majestic with their light dusting of snow and the fleeting shadows of clouds. We moseyed on down to the stables, where a soft-spoken guide named Jorge matched us up with our horses. Pirate Boy was to ride a red-brown horse named (appropriately) Red, Agent K was given a beautiful bay horse named Midnight, McGyver had a big, dark-brown horse named Blackie, and my horse was a pretty palomino named General. (We decided afterwards that men must have done the naming, because Agent K and I thought we would have chosen names like Butterscotch, or Daisy, or Bella. I mean, Blackie? No creativity whatsoever. And my horse General was a girl who deserved a much prettier name. Anyway...) Jorge brought out helmets for the kids, and I grabbed the one that turned out to be too big for Agent K to wear for myself. Despite his being unfailingly polite, I think Jorge thought I was kind of a Nervous Nellie for wearing a helmet, but, you know, I'm kind of fond of my brain.

Pirate Boy was the first to saddle up, and I was hoping with all my heart that this would go smoothly for him. He had confessed earlier that morning that he was "excited, but nervous at the same time," and I just wanted him not to be scared. Well, I've never been so proud of my brave boy -- he hopped right up on good old Red and instantly broke into a big smile. He was so happy to be on the horse and so proud to be doing it all by himself...and I have to say, for the record, that he has never looked smaller than he did on the back of that big horse.

Agent K got on her horse like an old pro, and then it was my turn. I was pleasantly surprised to find that I felt much more confident this time, and these horses were so docile and clearly knew the drill. All they needed was for Jorge's horse to start off down the trail and they followed suit. General did get in trouble once for stopping to get a mouthful of weeds, but other than that, I was able to sit back, relax, and enjoy the scenery. Well, that, and reassure Pirate Boy that it really wasn't a problem if his horse was pooping. For some reason, he was very concerned about Red's bathroom habits and kept asking, "is my horse pooping? Is he? I don't want to see horse poop."

We plodded down a dusty trail to Convict Lake, then curved around the shore to stop in a small clearing where streams fed into the lake. There was a long wooden boardwalk across the streams, and we had a little time to explore before getting back on the horses to head back to the stable. This was where I was kicking myself for not bringing the good camera -- the babbling streams, almost-turquoise blue lake water, and absolutely massive granite mountains were so beautiful.

By the time we rolled back into the stable area, I had lots of empathy for the cowboys of days gone by who used to spend entire days on horseback, because I was more than ready to stretch my stiff legs and get my backside out of the saddle. We said a fond goodbye to our horses, and they were so sweet and gentle -- they all tolerated lots of love from Pirate Boy and Agent K, and Red and General were crowding up close to me to have their noses petted. Back in the car, Pirate Boy was flat-out over the moon about horseback riding: he loved Red, he missed Red already, he wanted to live in Mammoth so he could ride Red all the time, could we please come back to Mammoth next summer? (Even now, if you asked him, he would tell you how much he misses Red, and the vacation story he tells most is about riding a horse.) And even I thought it might not be a bad idea to come back sometime.

We went back to the Village for a bit of swimming before dinner, and that night we gave up and went to Carls Jr. rather than roll the dice on another random local establishment. Nothing fancy about it, but at least we knew what we were going to get, and I do love me some Carls Jr. fried zucchini.

All is forgiven, Mammoth Lakes. I'm sorry we fought. And just to prove that we can make it work, I'm going to have just as much fun tomorrow.

Tales from a vacation: Day three

2011-07-19T09:42:00.000-07:00

I'll be honest: this was the day that Mammoth almost lost me for good. We began optimistically enough, taking the shuttle bus up to the Mammoth Mountain ski area to catch another bus that would take us to Devils Postpile. We frolicked around and took pictures of the giant mammoth statue that greeted us at the ski lodge while we waited for our second bus.

On the bus ride up the winding roads to our destination, we had a good laugh over my mishearing Pirate Boy calling it "Devils Toast Pile," which became a running joke. We had a long discussion about why it was called Devils Postpile in the first place, which none of us could figure out. And when we finally arrived at the trailhead, we looked at the signs that indicated a 2.5-mile hike past Devils Postpile to Rainbow Falls (our ultimate goal) and headed down the trail, chipper and confident. I overheard Agent K telling Pirate Boy, "Two and a half miles? That's easy," and I shared her optimism. We walked past tranquil meadows bordered by a rushing river, and there was enough of a chill in the air to put on a light sweater with my shorts. Perfect hiking conditions.

Devils Postpile itself was pretty impressive, and unlike anything I'd seen before.

This was the view from the bottom, and then there was a trail up to the top of the rock formation.

This "floor" once you get to the top shows the pentagonal shape of the individual "posts." I have no idea how these were formed...I would know, if I hadn't failed to notice the sign explaining it all until McGyver brought it to my attention after we had hiked back down to the Rainbow Falls trail. Live and learn.

From here we struck out for the falls, and this was where the wheels started to come off of my day. When we laughed in the face of a 2.5 mile hike back at the beginning, considering that hiking eight miles is an average Saturday outing for us at home, we neglected to factor in one very important thing: elevation. The Mammoth Lakes area ranges from 7,000 to 11,000 feet above sea level, and I had been noticing the effects of the high altitude, especially in the morning: waking up with dry eyes and sinuses, feeling thirsty and a little weakened, needing to drink two or three big glasses of water or Gatorade with breakfast to get going. Now, hiking the sloping trail at the 7500-foot elevation at Devils Postpile, my entire body started to feel like it was made of lead. My quadriceps began to protest at every step, and my mind began to entertain all manner of crabby, negative thoughts. I hiked on, hating that mountain and that waterfall and the fact that there wasn't a bathroom for miles, peevish at McGyver for bringing us up there and mentally vowing that once this week was over, I would never set foot in Mammoth Lakes again. I'd like to blame my inner ugliness on oxygen deprivation at altitude, like when the guys on Everest start getting all irrational and disoriented...but I'm pretty sure it was just my sin nature.

Finally, we reached the waterfall, which was indeed pretty as it thundered into the canyon. Unfortunately, it was overcast, so we didn't see any of the rainbow effect that it's named for.

We found a spot to sit and eat lunch and take a few pictures before heading out again. I'm happy to say I recovered some of my good humor on the way back, despite being bitterly envious of Pirate Boy's ability to just step off of the trail and find a tree to wee behind, and we had a few laughs and maybe even cracked an "I Shouldn't Be Alive" joke as McGyver took my hand on one side and Pirate Boy's hand on the other and helped tow us both up the mountain.

We arrived on flat ground at a quaint little grouping of cabins called "Red's Meadow Resort," which spurred a discussion between Agent K and me about what "resort" means to different people, and in which we agreed that you need to at least have a pool to qualify. However, this particular resort did have a bathroom -- with soap and water even -- and a little store where McGyver bought us an ice cream bar to share while we waited in the rain (did I mention it started raining on our way back? Yeah.) for the bus to take us back to the ski area.

After our long hike, we sure were looking forward to a good dinner that night! But we weren't going to get one. Our streak of bad restaurant luck continued when we decided to try a rotisserie chicken place that we saw advertised in a flyer. While the portions were generous, the food suffered from a terminal lack of flavor. I ate my Mexican-themed salad confident, at least, that I was getting some healthy food down even if it didn't taste like much.

So that was the story of Wendy and the (somewhat) terrible, (at times) horrible, (not entirely) no good, (temporarily) very bad day. But guess what? Scarlett was right...tomorrow is another day!

A song for Sunday -- anniversary edition

2011-07-17T13:36:00.001-07:00

Eighteen years later...I still do.

Tales from a vacation: Day two

2011-07-14T20:51:00.000-07:00

One of the things I love best about vacation is the camaraderie that develops between my kids when they only have each other as playmates and -- at this stage of life -- bunkmates. I awoke Monday morning in Mammoth Lakes to listen to the quiet conversation between Pirate Boy and Agent K out on the sofabed, in which he was telling her about the movie Raiders of the Lost Ark, which good old Papa recently decided he should watch. Pirate Boy's very animated whispers were describing the scene when the ark is opened and, in his words, "these things come out, and they're like...killer angels! Like demon angels. They're all beautiful, and then they start attacking!" Thanks again, Dad. (Have I ever told y'all about how I was allowed to watch Jaws when I was probably younger than Pirate Boy? Yeah.)

Killer angels aside, there's not much Pirate Boy likes better than fishing, so we decided to head out to one of the nearby lakes so both he and Agent K could throw in a few lures. The great thing about Mammoth is that you almost don't need to drive anywhere -- they have these cute red and green trolleys that will take you all over town and to lakes, trailheads and sightseeing spots. So we jumped on a trolley and had it all to ourselves as we were driven out to Lake Mary by a friendly former Marine who regaled us with stories of his adventures as a trolley driver-slash-bouncer on the Friday and Saturday night shifts during winter. (I have to admit, I was a little worried about the party atmosphere we found in the Village upon arriving on Sunday night, but by Monday, lots of people had cleared out and it was a decidedly more peaceful and family-friendly environment.)

We started at Lake George, a beautiful little lake surrounded by snow-capped mountains that was a short walk from where we got off of the trolley at Lake Mary. The kids dug into their tackle box and got to work.

Nobody caught anything, so we walked back down to Lake Mary to try our luck there. There were lots of people fishing on the lake shore, and a few brave souls were out in the lake's frigid water in float tubes.

Still no fish. But McGyver was beginning to get a glint in his eye about hiking around to find a waterfall he'd seen from the trolley as we drove in...despite not having the slightest idea where it was or how to get to it. As McGyver helped Pirate Boy bait up his hook for his last few casts, Agent K and I sat on a log to sun ourselves and engage in one of our favorite pastimes on outdoor excursions, namely talking about ending up on our very own episode of "I Shouldn't Be Alive."

Me, in very serious narrator voice: "This family of four went out for a day hike, carrying just a few snacks and their Camelbaks. But when they decided to go looking for a nearby waterfall, things took a turn for the worse."
Agent K, in confessional interview mode: "It was Dad's fault. I just wanted to go fishing."

This time we went the extra mile and took a picture. This is us frantically waving at the rescue helicopter that will just miss seeing us and fly away, leaving us in abject despair as the sound of its rotors grows fainter and fainter.

Fortunately, after consulting a few maps and finding no evidence of a trail to the elusive waterfall, our plans shifted from "strike out for waterfall adventures" to "catch the trolley back to town and hang out at the pool." That's why I looked so happy while McGyver and I waited for the trolley while the kids frolicked in the snow nearby.

And hang out at the pool we did...the beautiful, heated-to-bathwater-temperature pool under the Village's quaint clocktower and a crisp, expansive blue sky. I was beginning to like Mammoth just a little bit. We were so relaxed after our hiking and swimming that we decided to leave the car in the garage again and just walk into the Village to get dinner at the pizza place. Sadly, if you were to go and pay $25 dollars for a poor-quality frozen pizza and then cook it halfway through, you would replicate our dining experience. If Mammoth really wanted to woo me, it was going to have to step up its game in the restaurant department...

Tales from a vacation: Day one

2011-07-12T20:14:00.000-07:00

Well, I've finally unpacked and done laundry and folded clothes and aired out the house and restocked the refrigerator with food and slept like a log in my own bed and settled back into the routine enough to tell you about our vacation! We had such a fun, relaxing week and I'm so grateful for the chance to get away and explore a new place together.

We left town on Sunday morning and settled in for the long drive...Mammoth Lakes is almost six hours away from home, and once again we were thanking our lucky stars for the portable DVD player we picked up a few years ago. The kids watched movies and read books as we drove from the bustling cities of the Bay Area through the San Joaquin Valley's rural highways lined with nut orchards and farm stands to the snow-filled evergreen forests of Yosemite. Aside from a quick stop for lunch at Burger King in the tiny town of Escalon, we powered through and didn't get out of the car until we arrived in Tuolumne Meadows, just outside Yosemite Valley. We pulled over to get out and stretch our legs and were surprised to find so much snow still on the ground, which naturally called for a snowball fight.

For the most part, the kids targeted McGyver (I pled my camera as my excuse for staying clear), but Pirate Boy did manage to nail me with one well-thrown snowball after the camera was safely back in its bag.

It was a gorgeous, clear day and Tuolumne Meadows was vivid green and -- like all the surrounding mountains -- juicy with snowmelt. There is so much beauty around, you don't even have to get out of the car to get a good picture...I took this shot of Lake Tenaya as we drove by, trusting my camera's anti-shake feature and McGyver's countdown to let me know when I was clear of the trees.

We finally arrived in the little town of Mammoth Lakes, it's namesake Mammoth Mountain looming over us completely covered with snow, and made our way to our condo in the Village complex. Can you believe I didn't take one picture of the inside of the condo? I didn't, but it was beautiful -- always a relief when you book online and hope the owners haven't been "creative" with their photography. We had a one-bedroom unit with a kitchen, a nice sofabed for the kids, and a peaceful little balcony overlooking the trees.

By the time we got set up in the condo, we were pretty famished, so we set out into the Village's assortment of shops and restaurants to seek out some dinner. We ended up deciding on The Pita Pit, which turned out to be a revelation in the world of sandwich craft. Basically, you choose a sandwich filling (like turkey, chicken, bacon or, in my case, spicy black bean patty) that they then grill up and wrap in a pita with your choices from a vast lineup of fresh vegetables, cheeses and sauces. I went a little crazy and created a concoction of spinach, tomatoes, artichoke hearts, pickles, olives, provolone cheese and lashings of chipotle barbecue sauce along with my black bean burger. SO good! The kids split a turkey wrap with tomatoes, pickles, mustard and mayonnaise, declared it the best sandwich ever and decided they wanted to eat there every day. I could have eaten there every day too, and it was definitely added to my mental list of restaurants I wish we had at home.

Because we arrived the day before July 4th, we had the chance to see the fireworks show in the Village that night. We crowded into the central plaza with hundreds of other people to ooh and aah as the fireworks sparkled in time to classic patriotic tunes.

There was a free showing of "Megamind" after the fireworks wrapped up, but after driving 350 miles that day, we were ready for bed. More adventures to come...

A song for Sunday

2011-07-10T15:36:00.001-07:00

I might have to start calling him Agent Pirate Boy (August 2009)

2011-07-08T08:00:00.000-07:00

He still loves a chance to rat her out every bit as much as he did back then...

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I'm not going to soft-pedal this: Pirate Boy is an incorrigible tattletale. He is constantly on the lookout for any hint of questionable behavior on the part of his sister to which he believes I need to be alerted. They were playing in the backyard yesterday afternoon, and no fewer than three times in about half an hour, I heard the screen door slide open and his plaintive voice calling, "Moooooom?" because there was some slight possibility that Agent K might be doing something to get into trouble.

Though tattling does drive me crazy, I have to admit it's hilarious when he's trying to be subtle about it. The innocent face, the furrowed brow, the concerned tone as he asks, "Is K supposed to be doing that right now?" Or the loud voice, sure to reach me all the way upstairs, wondering, "K, aren't you supposed to be cleaning your room?"

Well, Pirate Boy is in fine form this week, since apparently a bit of tweaking to the school schedule means that now third grade (Agent K) and Kindergarten (Pirate Boy) just so happen to have their morning recess at the same time, and he clearly sees this as an opportunity to be my eyes and ears on the playground. You can imagine how happy Agent K is with this development.

We were on our way home from school yesterday when Pirate Boy announced from the back seat, "Mom, I have to tell a story." As if I'd just fallen off of the turnip truck, I bit. "Okay, what's your story?" Big sigh. "Well. It is," (and I have to note here that he always begins any narrative with an introductory "It is..." It's his equivalent to "once upon a time," and I crack up on the inside every time.) "It is, that I saw K on the playground, and she was with Susie, and they said they were running away from some girls that were being mean to them." Meanwhile, picture Agent K puffed up like an angry cat, going, "Pirate Boy! You stop that! You mind your own business!" and so on. I calmed down the furor in the back seat and had an honest talk with Agent K about the social situation, figuring out what had really happened and talking through the best way to handle it. Then they went back to arguing about whether or not it would be cool if there was a Webkinz squid.

As I pulled into the driveway, it hit me that I now have a real conundrum on my hands. Of course I don't want to encourage Pirate Boy's tendency to tattle, but, still, I've always wished I could be the proverbial fly on the wall while Agent K is at school, and he is telling me things worth knowing.

I think I'm going to have to start training him for covert operations.

The hardest job you'll ever love (February 2009)

2011-07-07T08:00:00.001-07:00

I wrote this as an encouragement, both to myself and to other moms of young children who feel some days like that light at the end of the tunnel is just the light of an oncoming train ready to flatten them.

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I like to read other people's blogs, especially people who are in a similar life situation to mine. There's no shortage of great blogs from which I learn a lot about cooking, sewing, crafting, decorating, and faith. But I've noticed something curious, which is that so many blogs that promote homemaking also present it as the ultimate "be your own boss" scenario. They write of peaceful hours with happy children, freedom from the harried schedule and demands of the workplace, leisure time to spare for crafting, reading interesting books, and tea time in the garden.

While I don't believe that it's healthy or glorifying to God for women to buy into our world's mindset that we need to vent our every discontent thought and dwell on negativity, I wonder if we don't inadvertently discourage other women when we offer such a relentlessly rosy perspective on this way of life. I know I've sometimes read other people's glowing accounts of daily life in the home and heard that tiny voice in my mind ask, "am I doing it wrong? Why don't I feel that relaxed, refreshed, blissful?" Because...come close, I'm going to tell you a little secret about homemaking and motherhood...

It's hard.

I've held a wailing newborn while rebuking a sassy preschooler who was determined to make me pay for disrupting her life with a new baby, while asking myself, "what have I done to my life?" I've suspected that my children might purposefully wait until the very moment that I finally sit down to ask for a glass of milk. I've picked up more candy wrappers off of the floor than a janitor at Yankee Stadium, wondering all the while what wolves raised these people. I've had fabric cut out for a garment sit on my sewing table for a month because I can't clear my plate enough to think about non-essential projects. I've dragged myself out from under the covers in the middle of the night to deal with everything from wet beds to bad dreams to vomit. I've flipped the calendar page for a new month to find that it's already filled with school obligations, birthday parties, play dates, and responsibilities at church. A quick review of my Google search history just might bring up the terms "Christian boarding school."

Oh, I'm kidding.

Maybe.

But honestly, if I'm doing my job diligently, I'm lucky if I get an hour or two during the day to do what I like. I had more free time to myself when I worked in an office from 8 to 5. So, all that said, would I go back to that life of office jobs, dressing well, going out for sushi with a girlfriend and nipping out to Nordstrom on my lunch hour?

Not a chance.

Because, although that girl was younger, carefree, worked out every day and had more disposable income, she was also more self-focused, immature, and sorely lacking in perspective. Because she had less understanding of how much God really loves her, and hadn't a clue about the strength of character that comes from giving of yourself to others.

Because I've also been here to see the first steps, hear the first words, laugh with them when they're happy and comfort them when they're sad. It's because I'm here for the mundane that I get to be here for the extraordinary. I have the privilege of answering my children's questions about God and His creation, of being a constant for my husband, of creating a home for our family. It's hard, but most things worth doing are.

I love the point C.S. Lewis makes about the believer's service to God and to others in one of my favorite books, The Screwtape Letters (if you haven't read it, please do, this is even better in context):

"He is also, in theory, committed to a total service of [God]; and if [God] appeared to him in bodily form and demanded that total service for even one day, he would not refuse. He would be greatly relieved if that one day involved nothing harder than listening to the conversation of a foolish woman; and he would be relieved almost to the pitch of disappointment if for one half-hour in that day [God] said, 'Now you may go and amuse yourself.' Now if he thinks about his assumption for a moment, even he is bound to realize that he is actually in this situation every day."

Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving.

Colossians 3:23-24

Modest (March 2009)

2011-07-06T08:00:00.000-07:00

The issue of modesty has only become more complex as both my daughter and I get older...two years later, this post still articulates my convictions on a tricky subject.

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Today my ruminations have turned to a subject that, as a woman and the mother of a daughter, is near and dear to my heart: modesty. I actually had a dream the other night that I was involved in a discussion about modesty with another person, so I figured I must need to get my thoughts out of my head and onto paper, as it were.

I firmly believe that the Christian woman must concern herself with modesty. Clearly, God is concerned with our modesty. In 1 Timothy 2:9a, Paul, as God’s agent, writes, “I also want women to dress modestly, with decency and propriety,” and in 1 Corinthians, Paul alludes further to our need for modesty when he uses the analogy of the human body in discussing the church as the body of Christ: “On the contrary, those parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable, and the parts that we think are less honorable we treat with special honor. And the parts that are unpresentable are treated with special modesty, while our presentable parts need no special treatment.” (v. 22-24a)

Of course, the world, as with every good thing, has twisted the concept of modesty and turned it on its head. Modesty is considered an old-fashioned, Puritannical notion, attributed to shame and hatred of one’s body. Women who have confidence aren’t afraid to flaunt what they’ve got, right? Ironically, modesty is, in fact, the ultimate expression of respect for one’s body – to believe that our bodies are special and valuable enough to not give away the farm to every Tom, Dick and Harry who sees us walk down the street. Even now, I am doing everything I can to convey this to my daughter – that she is fearfully and wonderfully made, and that she deserves the dignity of keeping her body to herself – even if it means tearing certain ads out of my issues of InStyle (who knew Calvin Klein needed to show a topless woman to sell jeans?) or, for that matter, giving up my subscription altogether.

Now here’s the tricky part, and why I'm not going to give you any kind of prescription for what you should and shouldn't wear: while the verses I’ve quoted (not to mention the numerous Biblical admonitions against lust) indicate without question that modesty is to be part of a godly woman’s character, I’ve found that what that specifically means in terms of life application can be hard to pin down. My sense of modesty might be more developed than one woman’s, but another woman might think I have no business even bringing up the subject until I get rid of my jeans. And that, my sisters, is not likely to happen anytime soon. I mean, I’m definitely not a “dresses only” Christian woman – I pretty much wear jeans six days a week. I like high heels. I wear sleeveless tops, and you’ll take away my makeup when you pry it from my cold, dead hand. So to speak.

Let me be clear, I don’t say all that to be irreverent, or to say, “look, I can wear anything I want, because God looks at the heart.” We can never use Christian liberty as an excuse for unwholesome or un-Christlike behavior. My point is that those things don’t disqualify me from being modest. Because I also firmly believe that the key to modesty is a heart tuned to the promptings of the Holy Spirit as He teaches and matures us and gives us those personal convictions. Every time I step into a dressing room, I have that spiritual compass that tells me when a garment is inappropriate, even if – or sometimes because – it makes me feel like a million bucks. Beyond simply considering the “deal-breaker” criteria of whether clothes are too tight, too short, too plunging, I also have to examine my heart’s motives. Am I choosing an outfit with the intent of drawing attention to myself, or of conforming to the world’s idea of what’s flattering, or of being attractive to men other than my husband? Or am I simply failing, out of laziness or complacency, to hold up my style of dress to the light of God’s standards for His daughters, who are striving to be holy as He is holy? If I am regularly performing those spiritual gut checks, modesty can’t help but follow. There are things I wore five years ago that I don’t wear now, and that’s because God has refined me in this area. That's why I need to be always listening.

Again, I do believe that this is an issue of personal conviction, and that the Spirit has to speak to each woman’s heart on this subject – and any virtue is in danger of being a vice when it becomes a measuring stick by which to judge others inferior to ourselves in obedience and piety – but, honestly, I do mourn the apparent lack of attention to modesty in many Christian circles. When one can go to church on any given Sunday and see cleavage and miniskirts, it worries me that the world has crept in just a bit too much for comfort. Have our hearts become just calloused enough that we don’t really try to be set apart from the world? It will be difficult enough for my daughter to become a woman of “decency and propriety” (1 Timothy 2:9) without seeing immodest examples at church. It will be difficult enough for my son to be a young man who “keeps his way pure” (Psalm 119:9) without encountering temptation at church. As Christian women, we owe it to our daughters, our sons, our husbands, our brothers and sisters in Christ, and most of all to our holy Lord to value purity in all its forms.

I hope that God will continue to speak to my heart on the subject of modesty, and to grow me in maturity and wisdom. I want to be that woman who has "the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit," (1 Peter 3:4) and who clothes herself "with good deeds, appropriate for women who profess to worship God." (1 Timothy 2:10)

Check back with me in five more years and see how it's going...

Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised.

Proverbs 31:30

Her brother's keeper (September 2009)

2011-07-05T08:00:00.000-07:00

This remains my favorite post I've ever written about Agent K, if only because it's such a perfect snapshot of both her firstborn-personality zeal for justice and her fierce protectiveness of her brother.

*******************************************************************

So on Tuesday, Pirate Boy had the misfortune to be on the receiving end of some playground teasing from a punk first-grader who wanted to prove how much bigger and stronger he was than the little kindergartener. He related his tale of woe in the car on the way home and, while I was focused on comforting and encouraging Pirate Boy, Agent K clearly had a more practical solution in mind.

"Who is this kid? What does he look like?" she asked sharply. Pirate Boy described the perp and she nodded grimly. "I know who that is. Tomorrow, I'm going to talk to him and tell him to stop bothering you."

To say I was surprised would be an understatement, and I pulled her aside when we got home and told her how proud I was of her, and how happy it made me to see her standing up for Pirate Boy and looking out for him. Her response was matter-of-fact: "I'm just doing my job."

When I picked Agent K and Pirate Boy up from school yesterday, I was dying of curiosity about what had happened. I immediately asked Pirate Boy if everybody had been nice to him at recess, and he said, "Yeah! That kid came over and said he was sorry for being mean to me."

Agent K is on the case.

We got into the car and of course I had to know how she had managed to not only put the kid on notice, but extract an apology. "I just told him, 'Look. You better stop being mean to my brother, or else I'm going to chase you.'" Huh. "And then he went and told Pirate Boy he was sorry?" "Yep." Apparently world leaders could learn a thing or two about diplomacy from grade-schoolers.

Pirate Boy, still smarting a little, recalled, "He told me I wasn't strong, and that I was little and I couldn't do tricks on the bars like he could." "Oh, honey, I don't think he'll say those things again," I soothed. "Oh, he won't," Agent K said ominously. "I promise he won't. Or he'll answer to me."

She paused for a moment and continued her musings.

"I think I'll wait for the punching until he, like, hits you."

Citizens of the world, be warned: no one picks on Agent K's brother except her.

To know nothing (September 2008)

2011-07-04T08:00:00.000-07:00

This was really the first post where I worked up the courage to bare my soul on the subject of faith. I hit publish and felt like I'd just stripped off my clothes and gone for a stroll down Main Street, but my little handful of readers were nothing but affirming and encouraging, and it made me comfortable enough to write the "pressing on" posts that have followed.

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When I came to you, brothers, I did not come with eloquence or superior wisdom as I proclaimed to you the testimony about God. For I resolved to know nothing while I was with you except Jesus Christ and him crucified.

I Corinthians 2:1-2

Yesterday was Missions Sunday at our church and, as such, we had a few missionary guests come and speak about their work, and what God is doing in their areas of ministry. One of the guests was a missionary who lives and works with his family in South Africa. In a short video and talk, he shared brief stories about a few people who are part of his church there in Johannesburg.

One of the people he highlighted was a man who had fled for his life to South Africa from his home country of the Democratic Republic of Congo, where he had been imprisoned for being a Christian. This man began to attend the church in Johannesburg where this missionary serves, and began to be discipled there. The missionary shared that, as the breadth and depth of God's Word was opened and explained and taught to the man, he told the missionary in amazement, "we know none of this in the DRC."

That statement struck me, and stayed with me. "We know none of this."

Here was a man who had heard only the Gospel. He knew only that he had forgiveness of sin through the death and resurrection of Jesus. He had lived out the words of Paul in the most literal sense: he knew nothing but "Jesus Christ and him crucified." It was nothing, and it was everything. And it was worth going to prison for.

I am humbled to tears by that thought, because here in America, we have access to all the information we could ever dream of about God's Word. Bibles are a dime a dozen. We have entire Christian bookstores full of commentaries, concordances, Bible studies, topical books. We can turn on the radio and hear knowledgeable preachers teaching from the Word of God.

And yet, with all I know and all I've read and all the sermons I've listened to, I can always be counted on to be frustrated, angered, and shaken by anything that threatens even my convenience and comfort, much less my life. I have been lazy and lukewarm and entirely unworthy of the one who bought me with his blood on the cross.

And it's not just me. There is a lot of talk about America being a Christian nation, and certainly we began that way. Have a look at this:

"Do you see that tall tree? Long ago it sprang up from a small nut. Do you know who made it do so? It was God, my child. God made the world and all things in it. He made the sun to light the day, and the moon to shine at night. God shows that he loves us by all that he has done for us. Should we not then love him?"

That's Lesson 51 from the McGuffey's Primer, which was published in 1881 and was used in schools to teach beginning readers.

But it honestly breaks my heart to see the state of Christianity in America today, particularly among those who profess to believe. There are groups who have set aside the love of Christ in their zeal for legalism and judgment. There are groups who have set aside the wrath of God and joined with the world to "call evil good and good evil...put darkness for light and light for darkness...put bitter for sweet and sweet for bitter." (Isaiah 5:20) There is conflict and contempt over homeschool versus public school, dresses versus jeans, NIV Bible versus King James, two children versus ten.

I get so discouraged by what I see all around me, but it all goes back to what Paul said: "I resolved to know nothing while I was with you except Jesus Christ and him crucified." Oh, to have that simple, focused and unwavering faith. To strip away everything that distracts me from the straight and narrow path, and the holiness that I've been called to. To have so much invested in my Savior and his sacrifice for me that if I knew nothing else, I would still give my life for him.

To know nothing...

A song for Sunday

2011-07-03T08:00:00.000-07:00

Vacation! Vacation! Party time! Excellent!

2011-07-01T22:33:00.000-07:00

Lord willing and the crick don't rise, we delighted folk will be hitting the vacation trail next week. Although I won't have access to a computer/laptop/tablet/smartphone/any other useful gadget you can imagine, I will have some of my favorite posts from the archives scheduled to re-post during the week for your reading pleasure. So...enjoy, have a wonderful holiday weekend, and I'll be back soon with vacation stories!

Simple ruffled bag

2011-06-30T11:03:00.000-07:00

This week I found myself in the unusual situation of having the house all to myself for a couple of days. Agent K is off enjoying her first-ever week at camp, and Pirate Boy was invited to Grammy and Papa's house for the weekend. So I went into my long-neglected sewing room and knocked out a project I'd been waiting to do for a while now. I had some soft gray twill paired with a cheerful, pink, "Paris in springtime" Japanese fabric that I love. I knew I wanted to make a bag of some kind to showcase the print fabric as a lining, and rather than following a particular pattern or tutorial, I just put together ideas from other bags I've done and kind of made it up as I went along.

The beauty of this is that you can make the bag in whatever dimensions you choose...it's basically just cutting rectangles to your preferred size. I made two straps by cutting two strips of fabric, folding each in half lengthwise and pressing, then folding the outer edges in toward the crease and stitching on both long edges. I decided I wanted to add some ruffles to my bag, so I cut three more strips of fabric, hemming and gathering them and then stitching to the exterior along the gathering lines. I took my two rectangles each of both the exterior and lining fabrics and stitched them together on three sides, then with right sides together and the straps pinned in place, I stitched around the top edge, leaving a small opening for turning. After turning the bag, I topstitched the top edge, closing the opening with the topstitching. I also added a gusset, which you can do, or not, depending on your taste.

Look at that sweet lining! I chose to add a magnetic snap, because I prefer bags with a closure. If I were doing it again, I would use a less bulky interfacing with the snap, but I was just going with what I had around for this one.

Voila! A simple, customizable bag that you can knock out in a free afternoon....however rare those may be in your world.

Strap technique here and lining instructions in the second tutorial here.

Borrowed memories

2011-06-29T08:00:00.001-07:00

There are times in life when you just know you're living a moment that makes you want to remember every word, one that seems special and fragile and you hardly want to breathe for fear of disrupting it, like a butterfly has landed on you and you're afraid of scaring it away.

It was in his living room, and it was just me and him. My grandpa. Ninety-five years old last week, white hair floating around his temples, in pretty great shape for his age. He called me over, and I took a seat on the sofabed across from his recliner. A cool breeze came in through the screen door, and outside, my children rocked back and forth on the porch swing.

"Wendy, I have a question to ask you."
"What is it?"
"Your hair." He tapped his own head with his finger. "You bottle it?"
I smiled at the phrasing, both blunt and old-fashioned. "The color? No." I shrugged my shoulders. "It's just what God gave me."
He nodded. "It's starting to look like your Grandma Lena's. She had dark brown hair."

His first wife, my dad's mother. I've only ever seen her in pictures...an open, kind face, eyes sort of like my dad's, dark curls arranged just so, clothes that would put the whole "Mad Men" trend all to shame. In just three years, God willing, I will have lived longer than she did.

"Well, she was a beautiful lady, I could do well to look like her." I replied, pleased with the comparison.
"I always said, she was a classy lady," he mused. "She always kept herself all done...her fingernails, her hair...and when she was all dressed, she looked like she just stepped down off of the bandwagon." He nodded again. "She was a classy lady...oh, she was busy, though!" He shook his head. "She did so much for people, whether it was friends, or the church...anytime somebody needed something, she was on the run. She never had any time for herself...I always said she lived more in forty-two years than most people do in eighty!" He finished with a shrug and a smile.

Suddenly he laughed, sparked by a memory. There was a mischievous glint in his eye as he continued. "There was one thing she did love, though," He paused for emphasis with a big grin. "And that was a fancy car!"

I was both surprised and amused at this...I'd never heard about this side of my grandmother before. As always, I wanted to know as much as I could. "So what was her dream car?" "The nicest car General Motors made," he said proudly. "A Buick Special. It had wire wheels, a maroon bottom, cream top..." His hands traced the lines of an imaginary car as he described it. "...and the upholstery was all cream. Oh, when she got into that car, she was just..." He rolled his eyes skyward and fluttered his hands in imitation of girlish giddiness as I laughed. "So you actually had one?" I asked, knowing my grandparents had never been what you'd call wealthy. "Oh yeah," he assented. "She had it when she passed away." He shook his head with a chuckle. "I couldn't afford it." I smiled. "It was worth it, though?" His reply was firm. "Yeah." "I'm glad she had it," I said. "There were two things...she had that car, and she had a fur coat." He glanced at me, a child of the PETA era, to explain, "That was a big thing, back then." "Absolutely," I agreed.

"You know, I'm always sorry that she didn't like having her picture taken," I told him. "I wish we had more pictures of her." He nodded in agreement and tilted his head to the side, thinking. "Well, she was camera shy, you know. She never thought she was as pretty as other people, or..I don't know what." He shrugged. "I guess you never appreciate what you got."

We talked more that day, about everything from current events to my kids to the time when he was laid off from his job at the rock quarry and picked pears for two weeks to pay the bills, but as I drove home, this was the conversation I kept turning over in my mind. I thought about the present...the man living alone in his little house, and how I hoped it made him happy that his granddaughter might remind him a little of his first love. And I thought about the past...about that classy lady who gave so much of herself to everyone around her. I imagined her feeling like a million bucks in her fur coat, behind the wheel of her Buick Special, prettier than she ever knew she was, and not because of the coat or the car.

Cookies for your inner child

2011-06-28T08:00:00.000-07:00

In my book, there are few treats more indulgent and satisfying than a soft, chewy sugar cookie slathered with icing and dusted with sprinkles. It's the kind of thing that takes you back to the holiday parties of your childhood, and birthday celebrations during recess at school. These cookies are everything you could want them to be, especially once you add a smear of creamy, cinnamon-y homemade frosting. Sprinkles are optional, but I swear they make the cookies taste better.

Iced Sugar Cookies
adapted from Mrs. Fields' Cookie Book

2 1/2 cups flour
1/2 tsp. baking soda
1/4 tsp. salt
1 cup dark brown sugar, packed
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1 cup butter, softened
2 eggs
2 tsp. vanilla extract

3 tbsp. butter, softened
2 cups powdered sugar
1 teaspoon cinnamon extract
Milk

Preheat oven to 300. In a medium bowl combine flour, soda, and salt. Mix with a wire whisk and set aside. In a large bowl, cream 1 cup butter and brown and granulated sugars with mixer. Add the eggs and vanilla extract. Mix at medium speed until light and fluffy. Add the flour mixture and blend at low speed until just combined. Do not overmix. Using a spoon or cookie scoop, drop 1-inch balls of dough on an ungreased cookie sheet, 2 inches apart. Bake for 18-20 minutes, until edges are golden brown. Transfer cookies to a cooling rack.

For icing, beat 3 tbsp. butter until smooth. Gradually add powdered sugar and cinnamon extract, thinning with milk to a spreading consistency. When cookies are completely cool, frost as desired.

Enjoy!

Eavesdropping

2011-06-27T08:00:00.000-07:00

The scene: Agent K and Pirate Boy, working together at the dining room table to make birthday cards for Great-Grandpa, who turned 95 last weekend.

Agent K: Just don't copy me. I'm doing African animals, so don't draw any animals from Africa.
Pirate Boy: Are elk in Africa?
K: No.
PB: Oh! I just had the best idea! The picture will be me fishing, at a lake. And there's a fish on my line, and the fish is saying, "Before I die, I just want to say one thing: Happy birthday!"
K: ...You might want to leave out the "before I die" part.
PB: Yeah, okay.

A song for Sunday

2011-06-26T08:00:00.000-07:00

Thank goodness for comment moderation

2011-06-24T08:00:00.000-07:00

Dear comment spammers, and those activists who like to make other people's blogs their soapbox:

Here is a short list of things that -- despite your concerns -- I could actually have gone the rest of my life without thinking about: draining Hetch Hetchy, buying decals for my motorcycle helmet, and the fact that you think I shouldn't cook with eggs. I love eggs. In fact, I might go scramble up some unhealthy animal cruelty right now.

Love,
Wendy

It's a classic for a reason

2011-06-23T07:57:00.000-07:00

If Agent K had to choose her favorite breakfast in the world, I'd be willing to bet it's an oven pancake (also known as Dutch babies in some necks of the woods). She and Pirate Boy can demolish one of these in a sitting, and I had to make two last weekend when K had a friend here for a sleepover and wanted to wow her with something special to eat on Saturday morning. And why not? Oven pancakes are easy, impressive to look at, and really tasty. They bake up light and fluffy, with a crispy crust, and the powdered sugar melts into the buttery surface and ends up being reminiscent of icing. Yum.

A cast iron skillet is really the ideal vessel for baking these, but in a pinch I have used a well-greased pie dish with good results.

Oven Pancake
from the Better Homes and Gardens Cook Book

2 tablespoons butter
3 eggs
1/2 cup flour
1/2 cup milk
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon vanilla (my personal preference, optional)
Powdered sugar

Preheat oven to 400. Place butter in an ovenproof skillet and place skillet into oven for 3 to 5 minutes or until butter is melted. In the meantime, use a wire whisk to beat eggs in a mixing bowl until combined. Add flour and whisk until mixture is smooth. Whisk in milk, salt, and vanilla. Immediately pour batter into hot skillet. Bake about 25 minutes or until pancake is puffed and well browned. Remove pancake from oven and sift powdered sugar over. Cut into wedges and serve warm.

Enjoy!

A good word

2011-06-21T08:00:00.000-07:00

Photo by Agent K

"Love is a virtue and not a feeling. It is fed and fired by God -- not by the favorable response of the beloved. Even when it doesn't seem to make a dime's worth of difference to the ones on whom it is lavished, it is still the most prized of all virtues because it is at the heart of the very character of God."

-- Rich Mullins, The World As I Remember It

You're looking lovely today, Mrs. Cleaver

2011-06-20T12:01:00.000-07:00

If you've been reading this blog for very long at all, you've probably heard that Pirate Boy is an exceptionally sweet, goodhearted kid. And he really is. But there's a little streak of deviousness in him which comes out from time to time, and which we refer to as the Eddie Haskell factor, so named after the charming suck-up of Leave it to Beaver fame. It's the inner voice that, when Agent K is giving me attitude about doing whatever chores I've assigned for the day, irresistibly compels Pirate Boy to pipe in, "I'll clean my room, mom. I don't mind."

So yesterday, after Pirate Boy presented McGyver with the heartfelt and carefully illustrated Father's Day card which had been safely hidden in his closet for weeks, it came to light that Agent K had no card to offer. A regretful sigh escaped Pirate Boy's lips as he very earnestly told McGyver, "well, I love you. I don't even know about K, because she didn't make a card." Because nothing galvanizes Agent K like sibling rivalry, she quickly folded a piece of printer paper and dashed off a Father's Day message, running upstairs to thrust the finished creation into McGyver's hands. McGyver had the grace to thank her for it, but did make a chuckled reference to Cain and Abel to me after the kids left the room.

Apparently not long enough after the kids left the room, because the next thing we heard was Pirate Boy, downstairs, saying very matter-of-factly, "I'm Abel and you're Cain." Pause. "They didn't like your sacrifice."

Needless to say, we took the spin off of that comparison by reminding him of what happened to Abel.

A song for Sunday

2011-06-19T15:47:00.001-07:00

Exploratoring

2011-06-15T22:07:00.000-07:00

The summer weather here is decidedly not messing around anymore, so today we escaped the heat to enjoy the cool bay breezes in San Francisco and take our littlest engineer to the Exploratorium, which we've been promising to do since his birthday in January. If you haven't been to/heard of the Exploratorium, think huge warehouse filled wall-to-wall with hands-on science experiments and you're on the right track.

Pirate Boy was in heaven. The moment we walked in, he blurted out, "this is awesome!" He is completely fascinated by finding out how things work, and proceeded to wear a perma-smile as we worked our way through the building pushing buttons, pulling levers, flipping switches, touching and moving and prodding and watching and figuring.

(McGyver might have enjoyed himself a little bit too.)

We were even asked by museum staff to participate in a little focus group-type experience where we got to preview and give feedback on an upcoming exhibit. The four of us hopping around in a dark room, giggling like toddlers while we tried to either evade or capture a beam of light projected on the floor, was definitely a serendipitous highlight of the day.

As a bonus, the Exploratorium is adjacent to the gorgeous Palace of Fine Arts, which is so lovely and picturesque that you're pretty well guaranteed to see at least one bridal couple taking their wedding portraits on any given day. It presented the perfect opportunity to sit outside and soak up the sun and beautiful surroundings while we had a picnic lunch (courtesy of McGyver and his mad sandwich-making skills). We ate and walked around and took pictures and watched the ducks, and Agent K grabbed the chance to explore the grounds while we relaxed on a bench next to a lush weeping-willow tree.

A very merry unbirthday, indeed.

Tuesday, and I discover it's possible to make a bad cupcake

2011-06-14T10:44:00.000-07:00

So. How are things? After an exciting week of vacation Bible school, we're on our own now, doing all the lazy, what-do-you-want-to-do-today summer things. The kids are still in their jammies watching a movie and my living room has been completely taken over by Legos, including Pirate Boy's "Star Wars Museum" that he's set up on the coffee table. (A free tour of the museum is included in a visit to our house.) We've been spending late evenings having family Wii tournaments almost every day...Pirate Boy is the undisputed champion of boxing, and I was the dark horse who came through to best everyone at baseball.

Over the weekend, I decided to get all experimental in the kitchen and try my own version of a recipe for strawberry-rose cupcakes that I found in Sunset magazine. I made homemade rose water (pour one cup of boiling water over one cup of rose petals and chill overnight, easy peasy), I made cupcakes, I made a butter icing laced with strawberry jam and rose water, they looked beautiful and pink and elegant...and we didn't like them. I was the first to try one, and the rose flavor made me go, "hmmm." Then Agent K dug in, and with her usual pragmatism declared, "They're okay. I can eat them." Pirate Boy said his cupcake was good at the time but confessed later, "Mom? You know those cupcakes you made? Well, I didn't really like the icing." The consensus was that it was kind of like eating cupcake-flavored soap. So, if anybody has any non-culinary uses for leftover rose water, I'm all ears.

Today we're supposed to get some real summer weather, so I have pinkie-swear-promised my associates here to spend the afternoon at the pool. The stakes were raised in Pirate Boy's journey toward water safety this weekend, when McGyver laid out a deal in which he offered to buy Pirate Boy a much-coveted Pirates of the Caribbean Lego set when he can pass the swim test administered by the lifeguards. He's more motivated than I've ever seen him, and he says he's even willing to revisit the shark goggles, so we'll see if we can avoid the usual "I'm meeeeeeelting!" scene if he gets water in his face.

I've also been doing tons of reading lately, so watch this space for book reviews coming up this week. Happy Tuesday!

A song for Sunday

2011-06-12T13:26:00.001-07:00

Five things I could watch on continuous loop forever

2011-06-10T20:53:00.000-07:00

A little different twist on Friday favorites this week...a few things I love to watch, either because they're funny or cool or touching or just because they ring my chimes.

1. Gingerbread Haka
A baked-goods takeoff on the traditional chant performed by New Zealand's rugby players to intimidate their opponents before a match. Their chirpy voices and stern little icing expressions just slay me every time.

2. Sir Ian McKellen, on acting
This clip is from the hilarious show "Extras," which is a perfect example of the quirky British humor I love. The idea is that celebrities appear on the show as over-the-top caricatures of themselves, completely skewering their own personalities -- basically you have to be a really good sport to participate. My favorite episode of all time is the one with Orlando Bloom, but unfortunately there are curse words in it and this here is a family blog.

3. The Force: Volkswagen Commercial
One guess who this reminds me of.

4. Nanny McPhee
Love Emma Thompson, love Colin Firth, LOVE this movie! This is the point where I start crying every time. It just wrecks me, but it's such a sweet ending to a great film. If you haven't watched it, get on Netflix right now and queue it up.

5. So You Think You Can Dance: Alex and Twitch
We enjoy watching SYTYCD, and this gem from last season was one of the best and most memorable dances I've ever seen on the show. What really makes it incredible is that the guy in the red shirt is a ballet dancer, and he's just killing it in this hip-hop routine. (I can't embed this video, but the link will take you there.)

http://youtu.be/TLtSfYX8tJk

The view from here

2011-06-09T08:00:00.000-07:00

Mexican standoff, Lego-style.

Good day sunshine

2011-06-08T11:33:00.000-07:00

For those of you who live in Northern California, my sympathies. For those of you who don't, let me explain that for the last several weeks we've been experiencing a run of unseasonable weather that has led some wags to dub this month "Juneuary." It's been all cold temperatures, rain, gray skies and general gloominess that causes the kind of emotional funk that can only come from being cooped up indoors, too much alone with your own thoughts. I didn't clean, I didn't craft, I didn't blog, I didn't want to do anything. Well, except hop a flight to Hawaii. And don't even get me started on how utterly maddening it was to go outside and find that last weekend's wind storm had blown every last one of the new green plums off of our tree. No jam this year.

But yesterday -- at last -- there were white, fluffy clouds instead of heavy, rain-blackened ones, and the sun was a glorious, glowing warmth in the blue midday sky. I dragged all my little vegetable seedlings outside from the garage and got to work on finally planting my garden. It was a joy to feel the sun on my back and the dirt under my fingers, and six tomatoes, two zucchini, two pumpkins, two peppers, three basil, a cucumber and a cilantro later, I felt renewed and energized. I sprayed down the plots with a shiny new garden hose, surveying my little vegetable kingdom with satisfaction and marveling at how much better I felt. I daresay there was a spring in my step when I left to pick up Agent K and Pirate Boy from vacation Bible school. I emerged from my cold-weather stupor to mop the kitchen floor, make tuna fish sandwiches for lunch, play Legos with Pirate Boy, challenge Agent K to Wii baseball, and hover over bubbling pots and sizzling pans as dinnertime approached. I was even cheerful when 10:00 pm found me out in the garden in my pajamas and McGyver's headlamp, sprinkling the snail pellets that would protect my lovely, vigorous basil and squash plants from being eaten down to stubs by morning, which I'd forgotten to do after planting.

Of course, today is back to being gray and chilly, and the sun hasn't broken through the milky skies. I'm having to drag myself a bit to exercise and fold laundry and wash dishes as my recharged batteries from yesterday begin to feel a little worn out again. But maybe, as the song goes, the sun'll come out tomorrow.

Summer reading book review: Into Thin Air

2011-06-06T21:29:00.000-07:00

I came away from reading Into Thin Air with one big question: Why in the world does anybody want to climb Everest in the first place? (And I guarantee you, after reading this book, "Because it's there" just won't cut it anymore.) Even those who have an uneventful trip to the summit have to deal with frostbite, migraines, nausea, mental impairment and the other symptoms of severe altitude sickness that usher climbers into what seems like a living hell as soon as they approach Everest Base Camp.

Of course, Jon Krakauer's account is not of an uneventful trip, but of the doomed expeditions in the spring of 1996 whose stories would become entwined and ultimately end in tragedy. Into Thin Air is an intense, harrowing read that I devoured in one sitting because I was so drawn in. Krakauer lays out the story methodically and in great detail, and it's chilling (no pun intended) to see the tragedy begin to unfold as the culmination of a series of small, and in some cases baffling, mistakes. The narrative is so gripping and the participants so well-characterized that I found myself somehow still rooting for the survival of climbers whom I knew in advance had lost their lives. I was surprised to read in Krakauer's epilogue that so much criticism had been leveled at the expedition's survivors in the blame game that followed the tragedy; from reading the book, it seems abundantly clear that this disaster was simply nature getting the best of everyone involved, in one way or another, including those who lived to tell the story.

I'm not particularly an aficionado of outdoor/adventure/disaster stories, and this book was a diversion from what I would usually choose to read, but I'm really glad I read it and highly recommend it. It was eye-opening, interesting, sobering, and completely captured my imagination. If you can lie in bed at night after reading Into Thin Air and not be haunted by visions of Jon Krakauer and his fellow climbers freezing in their tents at Camp Four, oxygen-deprived, grieving, confused, and still despairing of their own lives, you're made of sterner stuff than I am.

A song for Sunday

2011-06-05T12:38:00.001-07:00

...And then I made sticky buns

2011-06-01T08:02:00.000-07:00

It all started with Father-Daughter Camp.

Our church has an annual tradition where a whole bunch of dads and their daughters go on a weekend retreat, spending time fishing, playing gutterball, swinging on a rope swing, making crafts, and listening to devotions, among other fun activities. Apparently the facility that hosts this event is pretty famous for the sticky buns they serve at breakfast, so much so that Agent K came back from one camp and said, "ohhh, the sticky buns were the best ever!" Needless to say, I took that as a personal challenge. I found a recipe and made a big batch of golden, gooey sticky buns my own self...which were deemed good, but not as good. Father-Son Camp soon followed, and Pirate Boy came home confirming that the sticky buns at camp were, indeed, better than the hometown variety, which only increased my determination to produce the ultimate sticky buns. I did stop short of making them bring one home so I could reverse-engineer a recipe. But don't think I didn't consider it.

Lots of tweaks to my recipe followed, based on input from McGyver and the kids..."more sugary, not so syrupy," "more maple-tasting," "not so heavy." Finally, I have a product that I'm happy with, and that McGyver says is pretty darn close to the legendary sticky buns (even if Pirate Boy still insists that the ones at camp are better).

Sticky Buns a la Hartstone
adapted from Better Homes and Gardens magazine

Dough
1/4 cup warm water (105-110 degrees)
1 pkg. active dry yeast
3/4 cup milk
6 Tbsp. butter, cut up
1/4 cup plain yogurt
2 eggs
4 1/2 cups flour
1/4 cup granulated sugar
1 Tbsp. kosher salt

Topping
1/2 cup butter, softened
1 1/2 cups packed brown sugar
1/3 cup maple syrup
2 Tbsp. water
1 Tbsp. vanilla extract

Filling
1/4 cup butter, melted
1/4 cup granulated sugar
1/4 cup packed brown sugar
1 tsp. cinnamon

In the bowl of a stand mixer stir together water and yeast; let stand until foamy. Meanwhile, in a small saucepan over low heat, heat milk just until it begins to steam. Remove from heat and add the 6 tablespoons butter. Let stand, stirring occasionally, until butter is melted, then add plain yogurt. Stir milk/butter/yogurt mixture into yeast mixture along with eggs and 1 1/2 cups of the flour. Add the granulated sugar and 1 tablespoon kosher salt. Beat with the stand mixer on low speed for 30 seconds, scraping bowl. Mix until smooth. Beat in remaining 3 cups flour one at a time, mixing for 3 to 4 minutes, until dough pulls away from sides of bowl and is only slightly sticky. Don't add more flour! Turn dough into a lightly greased bowl and cover with plastic wrap. Let rise until doubled (personally, I allow as long as three hours for the dough to rise, to be sure it's really big and fluffy...this is what gives you a good texture and flavor in your finished product).

While the dough is rising, grease sides of a 9 x 13 baking dish. In a medium bowl stir together the 1/2 cup softened butter, 1 1/2 cups brown sugar and maple syrup until well combined. Stir in the 2 tablespoons water and vanilla extract. Don't worry if the mixture is not completely smooth. Spread the topping mixture into the baking dish.

Remove the risen dough from the bowl and gently roll out on a floured surface to a large rectangle. Combine the 1/4 cup melted butter with the 1/4 cup granulated sugar, 1/4 cup brown sugar, and cinnamon and spread mixture evenly over dough. Tightly roll up the dough, beginning with one long side. Cut the roll into 12 portions with a serrated knife and arrange rolls in the baking dish over the topping mixture. Press each roll down gently with your hand to flatten them slightly and press them into the topping.

Cover the dish lightly with plastic wrap and let rise until the rolls are fully doubled (again, this can take as long as two to three hours, especially in cold weather. Don't rush the rising time!). Preheat oven to 375. Cover rolls with foil and bake for 30 minutes. Remove foil and bake for an additional 10-15 minutes, until the rolls are golden brown on top. Let the rolls stand in the pan for about 5 minutes, then invert them on to a cutting board or serving dish.

Enjoy!

This is what I work out for

2011-05-31T09:00:00.000-07:00

Recently Agent K asked me, "Mom, why do you work out?" And of course I was quick to give her the rote answer that it keeps my heart and muscles and bones strong, and helps keep me from getting sick, and she was satisfied with that and went on her way.

But on Saturday, as the four of us headed out on a cloudy spring morning for a bike ride from our house to a nearby state park, I was reminded that it's so much more than that. I work out so I can feel the cold breeze on my face and soak up the warmth as I roll through an avenue of sun-dappled trees. I do it so I can smell roses and honeysuckle and see bright orange poppies and clusters of snow-white daisies in gardens along the way. I do it so I can watch the kids following McGyver like little ducks while I bring up the rear and cheer them on. I do it so I can see McGyver reach over with a protective hand to give Pirate Boy a boost when his energy is flagging, and so I can wave to the female cyclists calling out, "yeah! Way to go!" to Agent K as she pedals determinedly down the trail. I work out so I can carry Pirate Boy's bike for him up a flight of stairs to a pedestrian bridge. I do it so I can hear McGyver tell the kids, "Look at Mom! She's awesome!" when I stand up on my pedals and push myself to power up the last steep hill, and so I can enjoy the realization that the hill isn't as tough as it used to be. I do it so I can fist-bump Agent K when we pull into the driveway, panting and tired but satisfied. I do it so I can be the mom I want to be, the wife I want to be.

I guess you could say I work out so I can have confidence in my body, but not because I'm chasing some Photoshopped magazine standard, or because I want to look good in a swimsuit, or because of the number on the tags in my clothes...I have confidence in my body because I can use it, and count on it to move and lift and run and ride and jump and chase and challenge like I want to.

So that's the real answer to Agent K's question. That's why I work out...for me, for them, for her.

A song for Sunday

2011-05-29T08:30:00.000-07:00

Happiness

2011-05-27T16:01:00.000-07:00

I think we're overdue for a happiness roundup, don't you? So, this week I was happy because of:

The last day of school!
To-do lists
Even better to-do lists on white boards for easy reference
Dark chocolate
Craftgawker
One whole magical Thursday that felt like it was filled with compliments and validation (my drug of choice)
A new batch of library books
Watching Four Weddings on TLC with Agent K and clutching our pearls at the tackiness
Walking to Safeway with the kids to get a donut
Sleeping in until 7:00
Making McGyver happy
Getting back to my sewing machine
Poring over all the art projects and journals that came home with the school year ending
An inexpensive, super-cute new dress
Agent K and Pirate Boy playing and laughing together
Baking my best batch of sticky buns ever
A clean kitchen
Choosing a teacher gift that was a big hit
Summer vacation, filled with possibilities...

Have a great weekend, friends!

DIY side table

2011-05-26T13:54:00.000-07:00

At last, I present the results of the painting project I teased a few months ago:

We've been needing a side table for ages, to turn a dark corner of the family room into a cozy spot for reading, and when we went to Ikea back in January we spotted the "Hol" side table. While we liked the size and the removable-lid design that would offer extra storage, the plain wood and lattice top were a little too beachy-casual for our space. So, after an in-store brainstorming session while the kids made themselves dizzy in swivel chairs, we brought it home and went to work.

I had the good folks at Home Depot color-match a Martha Stewart color, "Purple Elderberry," and with one quart of paint, we covered the table with two coats. The fabric is Waverly, from a line that I can't remember and can't find anymore. The brown-and-cream vine pattern is a good tie-in to our brown couches. (And, as Pirate Boy helpfully pointed out, it also looks like snails if you want to see it that way.)

I have never been so grateful to be married to an engineer as I was while we were working on this table. From figuring out how to get paint into all the little nooks and crannies of the table without losing one's sanity to getting the fabric stapled on smoothly, McGyver was a rock star and I owe the realization of my creative vision all to him on this one.

Most of all, I love being able to curl up on a gloomy evening (still having those here in sunny California) with a book or magazine. Gone are the days of everyone jockeying for the spot on the couch next to the one lamp in the room, or else sitting at the kitchen table to read. Or else staring at the walls.

Summer plans: morning routines

2011-05-25T12:38:00.000-07:00

I must admit, there are far too many mornings where the kids and I are all running around like chickens with our heads cut off trying to get out the door on time, impatient and snippy with each other due to the threat of tardy slips looming. I hate -- hate -- running late, and nothing can start the day badly quite like a mad dash to get everything done at the last minute, barking orders and sending people back upstairs because why for the love of Pete didn't you look for your shoes ten minutes ago instead of building Legos all this time? One of my goals this summer is to bring some sense of stability and consistent expectations to our morning routine, even though we won't have that 8:00 am deadline. I'm hoping we can use the summer break to get into good habits that will have us giving the roosters a run for their money by the time school starts and the time crunch hits once again.

Art is in the eye of the beholder

2011-05-23T08:10:00.000-07:00

I've given Agent K and Pirate Boy permission to use my little point-and-shoot camera, as long as they're careful, so every once in a while I find some new and...unexpected pictures on the memory card. Life is definitely interesting from their perspective.

I can always pick out Agent K's work, because she's genuinely interested in photography and wants to take good pictures. She likes landscapes, nature, and artsy shots.

Of course, she also likes to recruit her friends as models...

Pirate Boy, on the other hand, favors action shots, barely-in-frame portraits, and meticulously arranged Star Wars paraphernalia.

Apparently, last time Pirate Boy got his hands on the camera, he was also watching Star Wars and thought it would be extra-cool to capture the highlights.

Giving your kids a camera is like a box of chocolates, I guess.

A song for Sunday

2011-05-22T08:30:00.000-07:00

Right now

2011-05-20T15:36:00.000-07:00

I am...

...so happy that there are only three and a half more days of school.

...not wearing lipstick in this picture. My mother will be mortified.

...making lists like there's no tomorrow. (ha! See what I did there? For the record, I am not one of the zealots who believe there really is no tomorrow. Mark 13:32-33)

...sorely tempted to DVR Jaws and watch it this weekend. I have a completely irrational, nigh-on debilitating fear of sharks, and yet I can't resist watching Jaws every single time it's on some obscure cable channel. And of course it's always on somewhere; last week I let Agent K watch the iconic part where they're out on Quint's boat and they see the shark for the first time and "you're going to need a bigger boat" and the Indianapolis speech and all, but I turned it off before (SPOILER) Quint gets eaten and things really get hairy.

...racking my brain trying to think of a good end-of-year gift for Pirate Boy's teacher.

...thinking I probably shouldn't have eaten that cupcake.

...still contemplating eating another one.

...wishing somebody would jump on the knockoff bandwagon for Kate Middleton's (sorry, the Duchess of Cambridge's) famous wedges, because, while I desperately want a pair, I don't want them desperately enough to fork over $265 for them.

...hoping you have a great weekend!

A good word

2011-05-18T09:17:00.000-07:00

"'Don't treat your children like sick,' she sums up; 'don't dose them with tea. Let them eat meat and drink milk...Give them fresh, light, sunny, and open rooms, cool bedrooms, plenty of outdoor exercise, facing even the cold, and wind, and weather, in sufficiently warm clothes, and with sufficient exercise, plenty of amusements and play; more liberty, and less schooling, and cramming, and training; more attention to food and less to physic.'"

Mrs. Isabella Mary Beeton, The Book of Household Management

Summer plans: reading

2011-05-17T08:00:00.000-07:00

As we plow through these last two lame-duck weeks of school, I can't help but get mentally geared up for what I want to do this summer. Lots of plans are swirling around in my mind, lists are being scrawled on whatever haphazard scraps of paper I can lay my hands on at the moment when inspiration strikes...I do know that I want to read some new books this summer, so one of my lists is helping me keep track of the books I need to buy or borrow to get ready for road trips and sweltering, lazy afternoons.

In no particular order, my summer reading list:

Grace Abounding to the Chief of Sinners, by John Bunyan
I love Pilgrim's Progress, so I'm eager to read this book by the same author.

Into Thin Air, by Jon Krakauer
In my previous incarnation as a working woman, I had a job that involved working closely with professional photographers, including some who had climbed Mt. Everest (in fact, I had an oxygen canister that had come down from the summit sitting on top of the file cabinet in my office). I'm pretty sure I'll have even more respect for their accomplishments after reading this cautionary tale from the roof of the world.

The Hunger Games, by Suzanne Collins
A pop culture phenomenon that I'm curious about, much like I was with Twilight. There's a lot of buzz around this novel right now due to its upcoming adaptation to film, and I want to see what all the fuss is about.

Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, by Amy Chua
Again with the curiosity. I'm not sure what to expect from this book -- I am sure that my style of mothering falls somewhere between the permissive parenting Amy Chua scorns and the rigid approach she favors -- but I think it can be a good thing to have your methods challenged once in a while, and I think she'll make some points I could stand to think over. But don't worry, I'm never going to think it's a good idea to tear up my children's homemade birthday cards.

31 Days to Clean: Having a Martha House the Mary Way, by Sarah Mae
I'm interested to see how this author relates our work as homemakers with the spiritual condition of our hearts. I could definitely use the encouragement to be more diligent at home.

Crazy Love, by Francis Chan
Yes, I am the last Christian in America who hasn't read this book.

My Life in France, by Julia Child
I just love Julia Child. She always seemed like she'd be the best lunch date ever, and I'm looking forward to reading her memoir of living and eating in France. France is also not too shabby, in my book.

Memoirs of an English Governess in the Siamese Court, by Anna Leonowens
The book that spawned the classic musical The King and I. I think the fact that I love to say, "et cetera, et cetera, et cetera" is reason enough to read it.

That Extra Half an Inch: Hair, Heels, and Everything in Between, by Victoria Beckham
Well, this is summer reading -- there has to be something completely frivolous on the list. And I think Victoria Beckham is just delightful. No, seriously. There will be no talking of smack about the once and future Posh Spice in my presence.

Mamarazzi: Every Mom's Guide to Photographing Kids, by Stacy Wasmuth
...but I should probably make an effort to learn something this summer, and as much as I love to take pictures of my children, this is a worthwhile subject.

So, that's my plan for now. I'm looking forward to reading all these titles, and to revisiting my list in the fall to write reviews!

Shameless, that's what I am

2011-05-16T08:00:00.000-07:00

Your eyes do not deceive you; that is a pack of Pirates of the Caribbean-themed nail polish. Which I own. Between you and me, I don't even love the colors, but I probably don't have to tell you that if they'd put a picture of Jack Sparrow on the package, I would have bought two.