S.A.N.T.A.

So, does anyone else have a problem lying to their children about the whole Santa thing?

I mean, I love the innocence of youth that allows for kids to believe in something magical, and obviously I believed in Santa as a kid and turned out okay...I think.  Actually by the time I was told the truth, I wasn't too surprised, although I could imagine some kids being heartbroken and feeling completely betrayed...

Seriously though, why do we do it anyway? Does it really convince kids to be good, or change their behavior to tell them that if they're naughty they're not getting anything for Christmas?  Um, yeah right.


Gee, all those poor kids sure must've been naughty... 


Now, I'm not saying that anyone who teaches their kids about Santa is wrong, but I am having a personal dilemma with it.  I have to admit that not only am I a horrible liar --no pokerface whatsoever -- but I feel super guilty and weird telling my kids about a strange bearded man in a fuzzy red jumpsuit who somehow comes down the chimney to give them toys...for whatever reason (obviously not for being complete angels though).  Honestly, the first time I tried telling them I think they were more alarmed than anything.  At least we have a chimney this time so I don't have to field those kind of questions.  I couldn't bring myself to even approach the whole reindeer thing though.

I suppose there's something to be said for tradition, and it just being a part of childhood, but still... I don't need one more thing to undermine my credibility with my kids.

Remember how Mom lied to us about that whole Santa/Easter Bunny/Tooth Fairy thing?  Maybe she was lying about the whole God thing (or drugs/alcohol thing) too...


Yikes!!

Okay, so maybe I'm blowing it our of proportion, and honestly, I'll most likely keep on telling my kids about Santa et al.  However, I'm still going to try to be careful not to get too into it, or try super hard to convince them of anything.  And when they do figure it out, I'll make sure to let them know not to go blabbing it to all their friends and ruin the "fun" (since lying is fun you know).

So far, I've only told them that Santa is a really nice guy who gives presents to everybody because that is what Jesus would do if He were here.  They already know that Christmas is Jesus's Birthday, and since we can't give presents to Him we give them to other people, because when we do things to other people it's like doing things to Him.

Oh yeah, and when we go to Grandma's house for the holidays, we will be sure to tell Santa that we're going to be there so he can find us --the kids were worried.

I'm such a liar.

I think I'll end with a few of my silly attempts at an acronym for Santa. Pick your favorite.

S.A.N.T.A. 

Sweets
And
Nice
Toys for
All

Singlehanded

Act of

Nationwide

Toy

Allocation

Sublime
And
Nostalgic,
Truth is
Ambivalent

Standard
Anecdote;
Negotiable
Truths
Abound

Subterfugitive    

Anomaly

Notorious in 

Traditional

Allegories

Shortage

There's been a shortage of cuteness here on my blog.  So here you go.

6th percentile for height.  4 mos.  

Get it?  Short + Age!  ha ha.  

ok so that was pretty lame.

Actually, he was just being stubborn about stretching out to be measured (he's a strong baby!), but I think we finally got it up to 25% on our 2nd try.  

FYI, 70th percentile for weight and 89th for head circumference! 

Yeah, we make 'em big around here (especially their heads... check out this melon --97th percentile!), 

2 2/3 yrs

but they're still so darn cute! (If I do say so myself) ...and funny, and smart...

4 1/2 yrs

Not to mention extremely talented.

Now we've just got to work on photogenics.  The older two are into the phase where they give me goofy smiles any time I get the camera out.  And yes, bed head is apparently all the rage around here. I even sport it on occasion (but no, you don't get a picture of that... that would counteract all the cuteness.)

Why I burned dinner the other night.

Hope

This is the talk I gave in Church today, more or less.

Hope:

As I began thinking about this subject, the first thing to come to mind was Emily Dickenson’s poem that begins, “Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul.”

It’s a lovely poem, in fact, one of her more positive ones. 

Hope is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul, And sings the tune--without the words, And never stops at all, And sweetest in the gale is heard; And sore must be the storm That could abash the little bird That kept so many warm. I've heard it in the chillest land, And on the strangest sea; Yet, never, in extremity, It asked a crumb of me.

It describes hope as a bird, that never stops singing it’s sweet tune, is everywhere from “chillest land” to “strangest sea”, where it warms people, never asking a thing in return, and is not easily “abashed” except for by “the sorest storm.”

As I thought about this metaphor for hope, I found myself thinking that however beautiful it sounded in prose, this wasn’t exactly the same kind of hope taught to us within the context of the Gospel.  There was something lacking.

In everyday speech, the word “hope” gets used a lot: “I hope it’s not going to snow this weekend,” (or that it is if you’re a skier), “I hope I get what I asked Santa for,” or “I hope I don’t make a complete fool of myself while giving my talk today…”  :)

 I’m afraid that in the colloquial sense, “I hope,” becomes “I wish.”

So my purpose in speaking to you today is to help you to understand what hope is in the Gospel sense of the word, how we can acquire it, and how it can help us through the tough times in our lives which will surely come.

Hope, in the Gospel sense.

“Wishing” is not what Ether spoke of when he said, “Wherefore, whoso believeth in God might with ^asurety ^bhope for a better world, yea, even a place at the right hand of God…” (Ether 12:4).

The key to the kind of hope we’re speaking about is found in that word, “Believeth” and if we keep going it continues, “which ^chope cometh of ^dfaith, maketh an ^eanchor to the souls of men, which would make them sure and steadfast…”

So Faith is the key to Hope, but not just any faith; to further explain and clarify it, Mormon teaches us what kind of faith we must have in order to have this hope when he says, “Behold I say unto you that ye shall have ^bhope through the atonement of Christ and the power of his resurrection, to be raised unto life ^ceternal, and this because of your faith in him according to the promise.” (Mni 7:41)

Faith in the atonement of Jesus Christ is what gives us hope –a “surety” of hope, or in the words of Nephi, “A perfect brightness of hope.” (2 Ne. 31:20)  that his promises will be fulfilled.

What a wonderful thing!

With the world’s use of the word hope there is a degree of uncertainty, but in the words of the scriptures, given to us from the mouths of the holy prophets, there is nothing more sure.

How to acquire hope.

So how do we acquire this hope?  While we live in such a world full of turmoil and suffering, hope is often hard to come by.  The very signs of the times include the prophecy that “men’s hearts shall fail them” (D&C 45:26).

In Moroni 10:22 we learn that “if ye have no hope ye must needs be in ^adespair; and despair cometh because of iniquity.”

Well of course it does!  Isn’t iniquity the very manifestation of a lack of Faith?

This includes not only sins of commission, but sins of omission. 

I admit that there have been times in my life when I have been very lax in my scripture study and personal prayer.  A few months after my first son was born, as the sleepless nights and constant fatigue of caring for a new baby dragged on, I found it difficult to get a shower, let alone read my scriptures, and although I tried to keep up my prayers, I often drifted off in the middle –if I even finished at all. One night, as I was feeding my little one in the wee hours of the morning, my mind was wandering and I was startled by the realization that if something bad happened to my baby or my husband, I wasn’t sure if I would have the faith needed to endure it.  I couldn’t say that I was confident that it was the Lord’s will, I couldn’t say that I wouldn’t doubt that there even was a God who cared about me, and I couldn’t say that believing in such a God wasn’t a mere fancy of the human race to make themselves feel better about things.  This realization shook me.  After all, I had been faithful all my life, I had gone on a mission, I been married in the temple, I was going to church each Sunday… however, for some time I had been neglecting those small yet important daily reminders and communions with the Spirit that are essential in keeping your faith bright and strong. It was a lesson to me just how easy it is to get casual about the gospel and be “lull[ed] away into carnal security” (2 Ne. 28:21).  When this happens we can lose sight of that hope. I confess I have had to dust off the old testimony more than once since then, but with a little work, it can burn bright again.

Mormon has taught us, “Wherefore, if a man have ^afaith he ^bmust needs have hope; for without faith there cannot be any hope.” (Mni 7:42)

In short, we acquire and maintain hope by nurturing our Faith, and we do that by obedience, by repentance, and by learning more about the Gospel of Jesus Christ through scripture study and prayer.

How hope can help us through the tough times in this life.

Once we understand who we are in relation to our Heavenly Father, our purpose here on earth, and what glory awaits those who endure to the end and are entitled to enter into His rest, we can have that hope which is spoken of in the Gospel sense of the word. 

It is the surety of hope that brings us peace and comfort in the face of adversity, it is the perfect brightness of hope that buoys up our spirits, and gives us a love for all mankind. And that brings me to the third part of this natural progression: Charity. 

You can’t speak of Faith and Hope without speaking of Charity.

In the Book of Mormon Reference Companion, under Hope, it reads, “As a person’s faith in Christ begins [to grow], his hope in Christ is awakened and strengthened.  His heart expands with greater love, even ‘perfect love,’ for others.  Thus personal hope springs from faith in Jesus Christ and leads to charity through the power of the comforter.”

I saw this process come to life So many times as people were converted to the gospel on my mission.

One young man in particular, stands out in my memory. Although I don’t recall his name --I only met him briefly, I won’t forget his story.   I met him when I traveled to a city in the west of Poland for a zone conference. My companion and I arrived at the meetinghouse late the night before, and since the Elders couldn’t be out past curfew, they asked this young man to escort us to where the other sisters lived. He had been helping them teach another one of their investigators, and according to the Elders, he was “on fire” when it came to sharing the gospel. He was very courteous and respectful as he helped us get our bags onto and off of the bus, and I felt quite safe with him as we walked the few blocks to the sisters’ apartment building through the darkened streets and alleyways. 

It wasn’t until the next day that I learned from the elders that the young man wasn’t a member.  I was surprised; I had assumed he was a member since he was constantly going with them to help on discussions.  I had an even bigger shock when I found out that although baptism was what he desired most, he was waiting patiently for permission from the First Presidency because years previously he had been a member of the mafia while he lived in Canada, and as such had done stuff… I won’t say what, we’ll just say …things that were contrary to the law, not to mention the Commandments (namely the 6^th).

I’m afraid I don’t know the rest of the story, I’d like to think that he is baptized now, forgiven of his sins, and is a strength to the Church in that area, but I just don’t know.  Still, what I gained from his example is a greater appreciation for the power of faith --which to a young man who had been through so much, gave such hope that he couldn’t help but share it with others.  It was like witnessing a real-life Alma the Younger –whose story of conversion is one of the most inspiring stories of hope and redemption that the Book of Mormon has to offer, and just like Alma the younger, his love of the Gospel and of all mankind was helping him, in a way, undo some of what he had done in years past as he taught others and awakened this hope in many.

Conclusion

In conclusion, I’d like to return to the Emily Dickenson poem that I began with. I hate to be contrary, but I have to say that hope is not merely a thing with feathers; that is too fragile a picture.  For when the “sorest storm” arises, the kind of Hope that is centered, in faith, on the atonement of Jesus Christ, strengthened by our daily strivings, will stand firm like the house that was built upon the Rock. 

This is the Hope of the Gospel of Jesus Christ.  It is the hope of eternal life given so freely through the merits of the Savior and the infinite mercy of a Loving Father in Heaven.  It is the assurance that whatever hardships we experience in this life, it is for “but a small moment” (D&C 121:7), and it is “for [our] good” (D&C 122:7), and that if we hold out faithful, enduring to the end, we will be “heirs… and joint heirs with Christ” (Romans 8:17) of all that the Father has in store for us.

This is my prayer, that we may share this message of hope with the world, that all may partake of His Glory, in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

See what I made?

I made this to go with my new shirt for giving my talk today.  I wish I had taken a picture in real sunlight, but this will have to do.

When we lived in Jackson we got a whole bunch of cool rocks at the souvenir shop, so I decided to try my hand at wire-wrapping.

And just so you know, this is as fancy as it gets for me.  I generally don't wear jewelry, mostly because I don't have any sense of fashion, and because I'm too cheap frugal.

What's in a Name?

Today I had a revelation.  It's probably something most people already know and appreciate, but for me it was new and sweet.

My 4 year old asked me what my name is.  I've told him before, and he hears his father use it all the time, so I told him, and when I tried to explain why he should call me "mom" it hit me.  It's not a mere formality, or a recognization of authority; it's even more than a term of endearment.  I told him that there are only three people in this whole world who can call me "mom" and that is very special to me. It's who I am, and who I'll always be to them.

It is a title attached to the new, eternal, identity that I received when I fulfilled the measure of my creation, and although the world may see it as a hinderment to my progress as an individual (to what end? I ask), it is actually just the beginning of the ultimate realization of my eternal progress, and something I proudly wear like a glorious crown.  My children are my jewels.

 Remembering this helps me once again see it as such a blessing and a sacred responsibility that I don't take lightly, and I am so grateful for the opportunity.

Even when they're being little stinkers.
          

Nostalgia

I could imagine the origin of that word coming from the word for nose, but it doesn't.  Still, haven't you ever just gotten a whiff of something that totally took you back to a specific time and place in your life?  It's like a little time machine built right into your head!  Of course, there's the nice smells that we all enjoy: fresh bread, lilacs, lemon peels, rain...  But I'm talking more specific than that. I'm talking smells that are inseparably connected to a place or time in your past.

Some smells are place specific.  I remember the first time I was away from home at college.  I hadn't realized that home had a smell.  I first realized when one of my roommates started cooking something by sauteing onions and I was instantly transported, you know, like Anton Ego style when he takes a bite of the ratatouille...  yeah.  I guess my mom sauteed onions a lot.  It happened again when I returned home for the first time for a visit, but this time it was the evening canyon breeze coming through the kitchen window.  It smelled of pines and a freshly mown lawn, and maybe a hint of faraway skunk. It filled my head with memories of sleeping out on the trampoline, digging for fishing worms in the garden after dark, and climbing our willow tree to sit on the still-warm garage roof to watch the stars come out.

Other smells are season specific --like the smell of fresh cut grass and the oil they use to burn lines into the soccer fields --that takes me back to various years that I played, both city league and in high school.  Even though I haven't played for more than 10 years, at the beginning of each new school year I smell it and it makes me want to run around and get grass stains.
One of my seasonal favorites is new Spring grass.  When I was young we had rabbits and we would feed them handfuls of the stuff as soon as it sprang up.  I remember how eagerly they would pull it from our fingers as we stuffed it through the wires of their pens and munch it one blade after another. The smell was pure green, if green had a smell, and every spring I still make sure that I grab a handful of the stuff for my annual dose of time-travel; back to when I had no cares in the world, wore sun-suits and Jellies, and played with My Little Ponies (yes, I was a child of the 80's)

Another Spring smell that takes me back to my earliest memories is that of the smoke from when the migrant workers would come and burn the grass and winter debris out of the ditches to unclog them for irrigation.  I even have an image that comes to my head when I smell that smell: the perspective is from either my tricycle or hoppity-horse, out on the pavement under the basketball standard to the side of our house --before the garage was there, watching the smoke rise from the ditch that ran along the road under a line of huge old trees that don't exist anymore.

Ah yes.  I could go on and on, but it's late, and I shouldn't stay up much longer.  I'll have to do time-travel posts every so often, whenever I smell something that transports me somewhere.

What smells take you to other times and places?

Food: my drug of choice

Anyone who knows me probably anticipates that our conversation will probably center around one of two things:

A. My brilliant and oh-so adorable children,

or

B. Food.

BBQ Chicken Thighs

It's sad really.  But this is what my life is about these days, so you'll just have to get used to it.

Bajios style salad with Slow-cooker Salsa Chicken and Spicy Black Beans

Actually, it is possible for me to converse about other things. Of course they're usually really random subjects that don't come up in everyday social situations, like my knowledge of native and non-native noxious weeds in the greater Teton Valley, or my opinion on the reintroduction of wolves and the recent hunting that is being allowed.  Yes, I was a biology major.  More exciting topics would include Poland and it's cultural peculiarities, language, and cuisine . . . but there we are talking about food again.  Man, I'm boring.

Polish Paczki

I remember back in high school my friends and lunch-mates noticing how often I commented on the cafeterial fare.  It may have been simply a lack of something else to say --something to bridge the silence, but I think it was more than that.  It was merely a manifestation of my budding relationship with food.

Egg Salad Sandwiches

I am by no means a culinary expert.  I definitely don't claim to be a gourmet. In fact, I pride myself on meals that require like 5 ingredients or less and take only 20 minutes to make.  If someone gives me a recipe with a list of 20 strange ingredients (strange meaning I don't usually buy it or have it on hand), no matter how good they say it tastes, I probably won't try making it.  Okay, so that's an exaggeration, but only a little bit. To my credit though, I am generally a make-it-from-scratch kind of person.

Chicken Pot Pie in stoneware bowls

However, even though my tastes are anything-but-sophisticated, my style is more on the meat-and-potatoes side of things, and I'm not very inventive or artistic when it comes to food, I believe (and my husband agrees --although we'll try not to discount his vote even if he has been known to eat corn dogs out of the microwave) that most of the stuff that comes out of my kitchen is pretty darn tasty.

Cashew Chicken

Now this is a blessing, but also a curse.  You see, lately, I've had to come to the conclusion that I am addicted to food.  Especially sugar.  I've tried lately to reduce my sugar intake, and it's proving impossible.  Now part of that might be that I am constantly tired, and so my body is craving the instant energy that such simple carbohydrates provide, but that doesn't explain my insatiable appetite for chocolate.  Maybe it's a hormone imbalance.  I don't know.  All I know is that even writing this post makes me want to go find something to eat, but alas, there is nothing.  I have anticipated my lack of self control by not allowing anything to come into the house.  Not even chocolate chips are safe.  Still I don't count that as success in overcoming my food addiction.

Oatmeal Cookies with Dried Plums, Butterscotch Krispies

The problem with a food addiction is that we still have to eat. People overcoming alcoholism can completely abstain and when they're thirsty drink other non-alcoholic beverages.  I can't eat other non-food items (although certain super processed food that contain only un-pronouncable ingredients might be considered non-food --but I think that would be somewhat counterproductive).  I guess the problem comes when I am addicted to unhealthy food, although anything in large amounts could be considered unhealthy ... or could it? Can you O.D. on spinach?

Lemon-Pepper Chicken Pitas

I guess you could, but why would you?  We all know that vegetables are just a vehicle for our unhealthy dressings and toppings right?  (Now you know why I look the way I do.) Actually I do enjoy many healthy foods. I just enjoy the others more. Okay, enough of the guilt trip.  I didn't come here to talk about what is or isn't "healthy," I just wanted to talk about food glorious food!

Egg rolls, and Sweet and Sour Chicken

I have to admit, that I find food beautiful.  I don't suggest you hang pictures of it on your walls, but it is a form of art in it's own way.  I'm not even talking about the visually stunning creations you find in fancy restaurants, where there's about a tablespoon of food in the middle of a fancy plate with a drizzle of colorful sauce around it, and some leaf that is just for show on top.  I'm too down-to-earth for that.  Not to mention too cheap.  I'm sure it tastes good, but if it's $50 good, I think I'd want a lot more than a tablespoon worth. I'll just save myself the agony of obviously what could become just another unsupportable addiction --like scuba diving-- and stick with the easy stuff.

Crepes

I'm talking just plain ol' food cooked up in the right way, and photographed in the right light... For example, this site makes me drool. On the other hand, some sites make it all look like dog food even if it does taste good. (I won't bother linking to any of those.)

Homemade caramel apples

I don't really have any aspirations of having my own cooking blog, but you'd think I did by all the pictures of food I take. (They're hardly professional looking, and not as appetizing as some, but it was the best I could do to capture all that yumminess before it got devoured.) I do like sharing recipes though, and what's a recipe without a good picture to go with it?

Grilled Pizza

If you want any recipes of items pictured, just email me. There's an address at the bottom of my blog.
I'd be flattered.

All Hallow's Eve

I have a confession.

I hate Halloween.

Okay, so hate is a strong word, but I really don't like the ugly, scary decorations, I don't care for scary movies, I really don't like the greedy candy grubbing teenagers who think it's still okay to trick-or-treat, and I resent the very act of trick-or-treating, especially considering the fact that my kids have been eating sugar nonstop (okay, me too since we had lots of leftovers) for days.  Why make up a holiday based upon exploiting the generosity of your neighbors?  Can't we just dress up for some kind of Fall Festival that doesn't look like it was endorsed by the Devil himself?  Call me old fashioned, but I'd rather have the Johnny Appleseed kind of get together, and forget the whole Sleepy Hollow scene.

So this year, we practically boycotted Halloween.  We did dress up in last year's costumes for a ward trunk or treat on Friday and got all the candy anyone could possibly need (not enough chocolate though), but that was it.  No decorations, no scary movies (okay we did watch Arsenic and Old Lace if that counts), and no pumpkins.  Yes, not even pumpkins.

This year I was the Halloween equivalent of Scrooge.

It hasn't always been like this.   I went all out the year after my first child was born, excited to see what new and creative way I could dress up my little one.

"Ducky Balboa, our Prize Biter"
Don't ask what I was dressed up as.  I was going to wrap a curling iron cord around my neck, but decided that was a little too macabre for me.  It turned into just an excuse for a facial.

That year (2007) we even won first place in the apartment decorating contest our complex held.

And even though my husband --and my children for that matter-- hate the feel of pumpkin innards, I made them do it every year, secretly reveling in the sliminess of it myself, and recalling the words that we as kids used to chant: "Greasy, grimy gopher guts!"

See that disgusted look on his face. (2008)

Even I had fun getting in on the act a few times,

Here's me, letting people know I was pregnant. (2008)

and I do like dressing up my kids.

(2009) 

(2010)

I guess I just wasn't feeling it this year.

Perhaps it won't be like this in 2012, but right now, I am so glad for Halloween to be over and I am looking for some nice Thanksgiving decorations to put up.  (Is anyone else bothered by the fact that Christmas stuff is already taking over the stores?  What about poor little old Thanksgiving?)

P.S. Today's date is so cool!  I almost had fun paying my bills just because I could write that date on the checks.  I can't wait 'til the 11th!

Spiritual BMI: a Metaphor for Life.

Have you ever wondered what your spirit looks like?  I'd like to think it is the perfect version of us: unscarred, and unaffected by the wear and tear of mortality.  However, does that mean my spirit wouldn't have freckles?  Or my brother wouldn't have his characteristic broken nose? --or for that matter that my cousins would have the beaks they were born with before their nose jobs? (I'm sorry that wasn't very nice, they're beautiful girls inside and out).
 I know, it doesn't really matter in the eternal scheme of things, but it's kinda fun to speculate.

But what if it did matter?  What if our spirit bodies reflected our spiritual lives?  For example, I've often thought about the phrase, "feast upon the words of Christ."  I know it's talking about a spiritual feasting, and that you gain spiritual nourishment, so does that mean that if you don't "feast" on the word, or even reject it --the equivalent of going on a hunger strike-- when you get to heaven you'll find that your spirit is gaunt and emaciated? On the other hand, what about those who have feasted upon the word (i.e. have been a member all their lives, read the scriptures, gone faithfully to church each week, or even studied endlessly on a certain principle --or in other words had a gospel hobby), but haven't really bothered to gain their own testimony --or maybe they have and just haven't shared it with others, and generally haven't exercised faith?  When they get to heaven do they find their spirits fat and flabby --storing away all that spiritual nourishment in their spiritual body, yet never expending the effort to strengthen it?  (I suppose the general authorities would all look like body builders in that case. ha ha.)

So maybe when we leave this world we find ourselves stuck with a spirit that not only reflects how we prioritized the spiritual things in life, but also the physical limitations of such a body.  I mean, what if the Celestial kingdom resides on the top of a mountain, with the different degrees of glory being found at their respective altitudes, and with this spiritual body of ours we must climb up as far as our spiritual stamina will allow?  How far would you make it?
Luckily we've got Christ there, hauling each of us up, Fezzik-style, a little higher than we could have done on our own if we'll just let Him.

This is just a silly rumination of my own, and perhaps a simpler way of thinking of my own spiritual progress, but it helps me to rethink how I spend my life, and refocus on what's really important.

Hope you enjoyed it.

Buhmadoes

You know how we're supposed to teach our kids how to speak our language?  It seems like I'm learning their language instead.  Not only am I the one person in the universe who understands what they are saying sometimes, but I'm afraid that it is rubbing off on me. For example, my oldest will say, "I don't like buhmadoes," and I will find myself saying something like, "Well, give your buhmadoes to your brother."
Does this happen to anyone else?

Speaking of vegetables... we took the kids to a doctors appointment yesterday for a routine checkup.  As the doctor quizzed my oldest on his numbers and colors and such I felt like I was on trial.  After all, those questions are really to see how much you have taught them right?  Anyway, when the question came up, "What's your favorite food?" my four year old responded, "Carrots! But my brother, he likes buhmadoes."   

Ha ha, score for me!  I promise I didn't teach him to say that.

Awesome!

So, you know when you think you have a good idea that's so unique and then you find that a million other people had that same idea way before you...

Well, when I wrote the post Happy Thoughts I really started thinking about expanding it.  I thought maybe some explanations would be cool, and I thought up a bunch of other things I could add, but then I found this book called The Book of Awesome, and got the wind blown out of my sails.  Now don't get me wrong, I loved the book, but it made my little list seem mediocre at best, and I'm not nearly as funny.  It's exactly the thing I would love to write (except without some of the entries that I have no experience with, like about drinking or guy things) to make people focus on the brighter side of life.
It's just a book about the awesome things of daily life, like finding money in the pocket of an old coat, or putting on underwear straight out of the dryer.  It started as a blog that the author decided to turn into a book (and apparently a calendar) but the blog is ongoing.  I bet it has altered the way he sees life now, going around day to day looking for something positive to write about and add to his blog. It definitely brightens my day when I try it.  So check it out.  (Just ignore all the advertising though, I think the success went to his head)

Oh yeah, and if you check the "Top 1000" in the side bar and you want to add your comment, realize that there are over 3,000 comments and it takes a long time to get to the newest ones.  I didn't realize this and started commenting on other people's comments before I realized they were written way back in 2009!  It was probably weird for them if they suddenly got an email about something they wrote 2 years ago. Yeah, I'm awesome (in a sarcastic sense if you couldn't tell).


Speaking of Awesome... Check this out:  My husband found it by the side of the road.

As if it weren't cool enough to find $20 on the ground, how about $20 with a plant growing through it?
Maybe it's a money-tree seed, and if I plant it, it will grow, and the leaves will be 20 dollar bills!

Now that would be AWESOME.

DIY Corner Play Kitchen

So, we made this for the boys last Christmas, but it never really got the attention it deserved.  In fact, when I started this blog it was in storage in another state.  Right before we moved back to Idaho, to get the kids excited about the move, I mentioned all their toys that would come out of storage including their play kitchen (we didn't have the room for them in the one bedroom apartment we had in Wyoming over the summer-- and yes, I said one).  Well it worked, and every time the move came up in conversation, they went on and on about getting to play with their kitchen.  So here's its official debut to the rest of the world.

And if you're wondering why I would make a kitchen for boys, just remember that most of the great chefs in this world are men.  I made it as un-girly as I could with no frills or pink or anything, and I still think it's super cute.

I admit, I'm quite proud.  Although, I also have to admit that although I came up with the design and did all the thrifting, my Dad, brother-in-law, and my husband did all the wood work and assembling.  Oh yeah, I painted the shelves.

I don't have all the DIY steps pictured --in fact I'm not sure I even remember them --it's been a while.  but we started with finding a basic furniture piece that we could repurpose. I searched forever for some little nightstand or something but when I saw this, I thought "Why not?" It would fit perfectly in a corner an take up less room by filling that awkward space.

It's an old appliance garage taken from someone's renovation/demolition and donated to Habitat for Humanity.  It was 12 bucks.  (The scroll door is still there, it just stays up all the time).
I also scored a piece of green laminate for the countertop, a small faucet, a handles for the drawer and oven, and a small hand towel rod or something (I'm actually not sure what it was supposed to be used for) to hang the dishes from. Total spent: about 8 bucks.

The corner shelf was designed by me and custom made by my dad in his workshop out of MDF scraps that he had around.

We added top and bottom boards to cover the missing part of the counter top and to enclose the base and make it sturdier, then we added an oven door on hinges (also MDF scraps and extra hinges my dad had lying around) which my brother in law cut a hole in for the "window." We intended to cover it with plexiglass, but never did, and probably won't. We also added a little wooden trim that you can only see in the picture of the entire thing at the top,

I thrifted a little rack and some other small cake pans and cookie sheets and my grandmother sent me some mini cupcake pans for use in the oven.  Every once in a while when I'm baking I'll save a little extra batter to cook something in these pans and we'll have a tea party.  (Don't worry, no one wears dresses, hats, or gloves to our tea parties, and there are no lace doilies. In fact, there's usually a lot of grunting and feet on the table --although I do try to use these tea parties to teach manners.)

I have three boys, so no flowers for us. That is why we use a gravy separator for a teapot.
Now that's a MAN's teapot! 

I wanted a drawer for some kid utensils we already had from ikea, and found an old cigar box or something at savers and incorporated it into the shelves (we actually use the ikea silverware to eat with and replaced them with plastic ones for the play kitchen).

Isn't that the cutest handle?

I also found this great old-school hand mixer that the kids love using to make pudding.  I'm not sure what the wooden box was for, but I decided to use it to hold utensils for now. 

 As for dishes, my mother bought the kids a "green toys" dish set on Amazon from this company that makes their toys out of recycled milk cartons, since they were the most unisex colors we could find and super sturdy. I found the rack for the dishes  at the DI, and although I have no idea what it is really used for, it worked perfect for the cups and saucers.  

Also from Ikea was the stainless steel pots and pans and utensils pictured.  They were actually the inspiration for this project --they were so cute, and sturdy and could probably be used cook real food if I wanted to! 

We had a lot more mini food items on the shelves before including those tiny cans of V8 and apple juice.
The kids loved it.

I tried finding a silver bowl for  the sink, but found that the shape of a large silver dog dish worked much better.  5 bucks.

I also added the "hot" and "cold" by hand with some paper and diamond epoxy for jewelry on top.

Now for my favorite part:  Drumroll please.....

The flat-top stove! Yeah, I could have made it really easy on myself and just glued some coasters on there, but where's the fun in that?  I'm all for interaction.  So I designed and hand crafted out of an old black three ring binder and some red vinyl a stove that you can turn "on" (red) and "off" (black) with little sliding buttons.

I used the same technology that many "pull the tab" books use, and it turned out great!  However, I suggest you use something a little stronger than hot-melt glue to attach the "stove" to the countertop --I ran out of time on Christmas Eve and didn't have anything better, so the stovetop was the first thing to fall victim to my (then) 20 month old.  Still, it'd didn't keep them from "cooking" things in the oven (including each other?  Maybe they were playing Hansel and Gretel?  It's a great hiding spot anyhow).

 Yeah, maybe they were a bit young for it at the time, but it keeps them busy anyhow, and they play more and more with it now that they're older.

So there you have it!

DIY play kitchen --30 bucks; 

Handmade, one-of-a-kind, heirloom playroom furnishing --priceless.