'Tis the season

Merile and I never miss the Tacoma Holiday Food and Gift festival.  It is my personal official start to the holiday season.  We took Jack this year.  We started wandering around, looking at the various toys and booths. At first, Jack was into it - - but his enthasuiam quickly changed into boredom then downright crankiness.  Truth be told, he drove me a bit nuts.  Mr. Chatterbox, touching everything (especially every breakable ornament), complaining about wanting to leave. Unlike years past rushed through the festival...we were in and out of there before the carolers sang Silver Bells.  We had already been to the pumpkin patch that morning, so by the time we hit the Teriyaki place on the way home, Jack was D-O-N-E.

One thing I've always admired about Jack....his ability to adpat.

Needless to say, Merile and I had a lesiurely, lovely dinner! 

Jack and the giant melon

Jack has a very big head.  It's not like he looks freaky, but it is unusally large.  Jack has wanted a BYU visor for some time now...(apparently the visor won't mess up his faux hawk)...so bless Mindy and Cisco's hearts...they bought him one when the went to Utah to drop Josh at the MTC. Um, they had to get him the adult size.  No kidding!

So, we went to watch Damon at football practice the other day. Jack has been dying to try on his helmet.   Damon is 12.  Yep, Jack grabbed it and put it on...but here's what happened when he went to take it off:

I tell Jack it's okay to have a giant melon. It means you have giant brains!!!

Handywoman!!!

I love being handy. I think I get this from my mom. Mom can pretty much do anything.  I grew up completely confident in the fact that Mom could do everything from decorate a wedding cake to helping me draw a cover for my book report. 

I love her for instilling the "can do" attitude in me.  I hate hate hate having to ask for help for household fix-it type problems...so I generally try it myself.  I also generally foul the project up a few times...but it eventually works out ok.

So, we needed a new toilet. The old one wasn't broken....but it was terrible. 

I once read a book by Jack Weyland called Charley. One of my favorite parts in the book was when the newlyweds got a new appliance- - I think it was a washer and dryer. The author described how much they totally loved their new addition and how they gazed at it lovingly.  I feel that way, too.  I love new washers, dryers, frying pans, water heaters...these lovely little contraptions that make our lives so much easier.

So, here is my fantastic new toilet.  Hmmmm...I tightened down the water source, stood up and flushed it, and found myself gazing lovingly at my beautiful new throne.  It didn't even leak!  The lid didn't blow off nor did water shoot ten feet in the air. So, to all you out there who may think twice about taking on a project like this....give it a try.  I say if you can read directions you can install a toilet!

p.s.  The kids thought I was the bomb when I got it installed. They fought about who got to use it first!  haha.

Stop Thief!!!

I am not really a green thumb, but I am good for all kinds of labor! This is the second year we've had a garden and it was pretty good this year. I put no effort into the planting, watering or harvesting...Merile did all of that.  My job? Weeding and getting it ready to plant.

We grew the standard fare this year.  I was particularly excited for our corn on the cob...last year: pitiful. This year: bountiful!

So, I was walking up our driveway and saw a bunch debris all over the front yard. There was a distinct path from the side of our property where our garden is located. As I focused in on what the samhill the craziness was all over the yard...I saw the culprit:

Little monster!  He stole our corn. Not just one corn on the cob. The furry rodents cleaned us out! 

Oh well, I guess he needed it worse then we did!

Here's to some fat and happy squirrels this winter!

Tagger

Well, being a mom is always an experience.  Here's a little story for you:

Merile's car ignition seized up.  The only way to get the ignition cylinder out was to take a drill to it and drill the tar out of it. So, I took a sharpie and marked a big "X" where I wanted the hole in the ignition and armed with my trusty drill and some safety glasses, I went to town.

Jack was sitting in the back seat of the car watching me drill.  However, it was about 100 degrees in the car, so he wilted and hopped out. He was on the lawn, running around the deck, playing with his trucks. I could see him out of the corner of my eye. He wasn't playing in the street or bugging the neighbors, so he was good.

I took a break from drilling to rest my hands. Jack said, "Mom, how do you spell Damon?" I said "D-A-M-O-N and went back to drilling.

Crazy thing drilling an ignition. It was kinda awesome. I felt kinda like criminal! hehe.

I got out of the car and gathered up my tools...headed into the house and went about my day.  A bit later, I went back outside to get the mail.  Here's what I saw:

Hmm. This picutre looks kinda familiar. In fact, I've seen this type of monster truck before. Yep, this is Jack's "tag." My kid took the sharpie I used to mark the ignition and he tagged my mailbox!!! 

Might I tell you that tagging aka "grafitti" is illegal in Washington?!  I've prosecuted certain juvenile deliquents for less!

I looked at Jack. He had a very proud smile on his face.  "Look, Mom...do you like my monster truck?"
Mom: "Jack, did you tag anything else?"  Jack: "Mom, what is tag?"  Mom:  "Tagging is drawing on other people's stuff, son."  Jack:  "Yeah, Mom, but our mailbox was UGLY."  Mom:  "Point taken."

It only took a brief look around the yard to behold additional tags.... 

Apparently, I am an accomplice to this crime. I told him how to spell "Damon." 

What can I say???  He loves his mom.

And, well, most criminals leave some type of incriminating evidence. Most, however, don't leave their REAL name behind!!!

So, truth be told...I was a little ticked off at first.  But now that I've had time to reflect....everytime I get the mail I smile.  It warms my heart.

What a monkey!

Guilty pleasures....

Oh Slurpee...how I love thee!

I do love an icy treat. A Slurpee is perfect icy treat. Here's why:

1. There are no pesky ice chunks. 
2.  It comes with a spoon straw. Cool.
3.  They "grow" so be careful...they overflow!
4.  You can mix the flavors - - so pretty!
5.  If you're not digging the "fruity" you can go old school Coca-Cola
6. There's even sugar free flavors - go Crystal Lite!

I could go on and on....suffice it to say I sneak off sometimes in the wee hours to feed my fix

Thank heaven for 7-11!

Delish!

I was introduced to El Toro by Merile. I not usually a fan of Mexican Food, but I have to admit, the food here is yum. El Toro is Merile's FAVORITE place to eat.  She is particularly fond of the green salsa.  Not my bag, but, if I'm in the doghouse a sure way out is to bring home chips and green salsa ;)

We had lunch at the El Toro on Saturday. I needed some food TLC following an unfortunate morning getting my eyes dilated and being told I need bifocals.  So, off to El Toro we went.

Please note:  El toro means "the bull."  Let me tell you...it is aptly named because the lunch special on Saturday was NO BULL!!! 

Here a lovely description of the special.  Yumcitybaby!

Now, lest you freak out...and think that I was visiting hefferville, Merile and I shared this little piece of heaven on a plate. 

Can I just describe for you this dish? Imagine a smokey, slightly peppery sauce kissed with a hint of sour cream.  I learned that a pasilla is a type of pepper, that truly shines when mixed with roasted peppers and chipoltes. 

Note that the special came with a slice of watermelon. Overkill.  Really, don't put anything on the plate except for the Pollo a la Veracruz yumminess.

As you can see,  we ate the whole thing. We didn't even realize that they had provided us with some nifty tortillas to sop up the sauce I couldn't capture with my fork. If there hadn't been people sitting next to us, I would've licked the plate.

Merile also enjoyed the special; however, she (like usual) was completely smitted by the salsa verde. Please check out the damage done by the green salsa.  It's so good, it's a clothing weapon:

So, in honor of the Saturday Vera Cruz special and the green salsa...I have written an ode to El Toro:

Thank you, El Toro for the yummy surprise
When I needed a treat for my dilated eyes
We though we'd be having the usual fare
Of chips and green salsa - but we decided to share

 A mastery of flavors- with peppers so savory
the Pollo a la Vera Cruz was driving me crazy!
It was so yummy I wanted to cry
When the dish was devored, I though I would die...

And Merile, loving her green salsa too
Drank every last drop except just a few
A little bit of salsa decided to rain
Down the front of her shirt, making a stain

A stain, however, my friend - its true
Is a small price to pay when out of the blue
You get to enjoy a treat so great
That if no one was looking, you'd lick your plate.

yay El Toro!

Something I'm afraid of....true confessions

Jack asked me the other day what I was afraid of.  I had no hesitation. "The pressure cooker," I lamely admitted.

This think freaks me out. The thought of ALL that pressure building up inside a tightly sealed can is a bit frightening to me.  I can just see the headline now:

"Local Prosecutor Blown to Bits by Pressure Cooker While Canning Peaches"

I know my fear is irrational.  However, I carefully read the instructions every time prior to putting the regulator on the vent.  It is the only thing that makes me feel okay about chancing my life endeavoring to put up fruit and tomatoes for my family. 

Please note my sacrifice.  In fact, I think I shall remind the kids frequently how close to death I've come slaving over the pressure cooker. 

Do you think they'll buy it?

The best thing about being scared to death of the pressure cooker?  My sister Jennifer is more terrified than am I.  We needed therapy after canning tomatoes together  :)

BYU boys!

Meet the BYU boys!  Uncle Francisco, Jack, Uncle Justin and Uncle Ben...all hatted up and ready for BYU football.  Go Cougs!

Unfortunatley, the team spirit embodied by these boys was not enough to pull the Cougs past Air Force.  BYU got wallupped.  Oh well.

One of Jack's favorite things when we're driving (I've done it since he was tiny) is to have me pretend I'm a sports announcer for BYU. Ahem...here it goes:

"Now playing for the BYU Cougars  (imagine the echo on "Cougars"), No. 15.....Tight End.....Jack 'the  Rumbler' Montgomery" (imagine the echo on Montgomery, then the roar of the crowd)

Apparently, I'm the sports announcer for every sport and Jack is apparently going to play BYU Football, BYU baseball, BYU wrestling and BYU soccer.

Well, at least he PLANNING on it!

Go Cougs!

A blast from the past....

I love to shop at the Goodwill. A couple months ago, I was looking for shorts for Jack and look what I found!  A cookie jar EXACTLY like the one we had when we were kids.

This isn't your ordinary cookie jar. We all had a love/hate relationship with it.  We loved it because it held yummy treats like Cowboy cookies and we hated it because it made a clanking that would raise the dead when you touched the lid. 

Now that I'm a mom....I'd LOVE having this cookie jar.

The bummer?  I didn't buy it.  I wish I would have.   Oh well, it was a nice trip down memory lane!

Do you believe in miracles?

This is my pesky debit card. It frequently goes missing.  I usually find it, but generally after a moment of sheer panic, I transition (not so gracefully) through the 4 stages of grief. First, I deny that it's lost.  Then, I'm anrgy at myself and whatever mutant stole my card. Then, I start to bargin. Please, please, please help me find my card. Then, I add a stage of tearing my house and car upsidedown. Finally, there's acceptance. No, I'd say resignation. I lost it AGAIN.

So, yesterday, I lost my debit card. The kids helped me look in the car and in the house.  I even went through the recycling and garbage, which was nasty.  Finally, I tell the kids we can't go do our stuff because my card was missing. I was white hot ticked off.

My sweet partner is not a freak-out kind of person. In fact, she is the polar opposite of freak out. I called her to find out whether she accidently took my card, of course she hadn't. She's too responsible to do that.  Let's just say I voiced my overall frustration to her....not AT her, TO her. Bless her heart, she told me to settle down, not let it ruin my night, chill out and scrounge up some change to go get a treat with the kids.  My response? No. I still had to look.

It must've been another hour before I finally hit my knees.  My prayer was lame. I truly did not deserve to have ANY inspiration leading me to my card.  And I got none. My bad.

Sometimes, I'm my worst enemy.  I go on record stating that I looked through all of the clothes in the dryer, the wet clothes in the washer and every single dirty towel that I put into the washer. Both kids looked in the washer and dryer.

Merile came home from work around midnight and carefully asked me if I found my card. I grumpily said no. Merile: "did you pray about it?"
Kelly: "Yes."
Merile:  "it will be found...it's here in the house somewhere."
Kelly:  "I doubt it. Some freak stole it...we should just order a new one."

I went to bed cross.

About 10 am this morning, Merile IM's me. "Honey, I found your debit card,  it was in the dryer."

I'm telling you, that debit card was not in the dryer last night.  There is no way. Three people looked in the dryer and the washer and went through every stitch of clothing inside and out.

So, I believe in miracles: it was probably nothing but HF's sheer mercy for me and Merile's prayers that the debit card ended up in the dryer. It certainly wasn't my prayers.  Added bonus: the darn debit card was washed and dried and STILL works.

I am a humble, grateful girl today.  :)

Reverence from a five year old's perspective:

L. Tom Perry once said that Reverence is "an attitude of deepest love and respect." When I think about being reverent, one of the images that comes to my mind is a little child, sitting quietly, arms folded instead of monkeying about acting like a freak in church.  Many other images come to mind, but there's something very sweet about a child's reverence.

On Sunday, I went to pick up Jack from his primary class, CTR4. I have to give a bit of background.  My son is ALL boy. However, we have some rules about Jack's behavior during primary.  I expect him to behave himself. I also expect him to keep himself dressed; that means...don't take off or otherwise damage your tie. Don't use it as a lasso or a headband. A tie, in primary, is not a tourniquet. Neither is it a lashing device.  It isn't a whip. Jack knows this.  In fact, when I drop him to primary, I generally give him a smooch and say the following:  (it's my Primary mantra)  "Be reverent, son. And, what is the rule about your tie?" He will look at me obediently and say, "No taking off my tie, ma."  That's right. Leave it on. 

So, back to Sunday. I pick Jack up and notice that he's completely dressed.  Shirt untucked but tie in place.  As Jack walks to me, his sweet teacher, Sister Bliss stops him, put her hand on his head and says, "I so appreciate Jack, he is so reverent in class."

I am stunned.

I am pleased.

I thank her for her efforts in putting up with a bunch of five year old kids and we head to the car.  I tell Jack I'm proud of him for being reverent and that Sister Bliss was grateful that he was reverent.  I then ask him, "Jack, do you know what it means to be reverent?" 

He ponders for just a second then says, "It means no tooting in primary." 

Yes, knowing my son, that's EXACTLY what being reverent means.