Literary Defibrillation- You're Bound to See Fireworks

Hello to all our readers, both faithful and sporadic. I'm sure you are all wondering the meaning behind this title 'literary defibrillation;' truthfully, we made it up! What it means is to jump-start and enliven our love of good books. Those of you that have read our blog in the past know that we began a book club at the beginning of this year and have maintained it with only marginal success. The fact of the matter is, the book club has been flat-lining for months and now we want to shock the life back into it (1.21 gigawatts anyone?). So we propose to start again from a new angle, a book forum rather than a book club. We will suggest a topic (use the topic or don't it's at your discretion) at the beginning of the month and anyone interested can find a book that interests them and give their opinions to the group at the end of the month. It's all up to you! Have a favorite book you haven't picked up in a while? Been meaning to swing by the local library for a few months? Finally fixed the coffee table and don't need that old book to level it out any more? What better time than the heat of the summer to crack open a good book, flip on the AC and wait out the heat.

That being said, we now come to our topic for July... any guesses?... AMERICA! See that was the reason for the fireworks... you get the idea. Anyway, find a book that screams GOD BLESS THIS COUNTRY AND ALL IT WAS FOUNDED ON!!! Despite the current cynical trend, we still live in a great nation where we are free to live, work, play, and worship as we please. Patriotism is not outdated and only needs a little fuel to reignite itself in our lives. So it is only fitting that during July, the time when we celebrate our independence, we take a good look at our past and how it will influence our future. READ ON!

At a loss? Need a hint? Here are a few of our favorites:

His Excellency by Joseph Ellis

First Family by Joseph Ellis

American Creation by Joseph Ellis

Founding Brothers by Joseph Ellis

1776 by David McCullough

John Adams by David McCullough

Washington's Crossing by David Hackett Fischer

Washington the Indispensable Man by James Thomas Flexner

Undaunted Courage by Stephen Ambrose

To America by Stephen Ambrose

The Boston Tea Party by Benjamin Woods Labaree

The Glorious Cause by Robert Middlekauf

Johnny Tremain by Esther Forbes (also an excellent film by Walt Disney)

The Patriot by Stephen Molstad (a novel based on the film)

Democracy in America by Alexis de Tocqueville

Common Sense by Thomas Paine

The Prelude to Glory Series by Ron Carter

I Am America And So Can You! by Stephan Colbert

And go to see Captain America on July 22!

'The Friends'

Reese's imagination has gone into hyperdrive over the last few months and one of my favorite pastimes is to pretend to do something else while I listen to the dialogue between her toys. Whatever the melange of playthings- Strawberry Shortcake and Spiderman on an adventure with two zebras and a bobble-head mouse, or Buzz Lightyear sipping tea with pez dispenser Woody and a bald, naked cabbage patch baby- the group is the same. They're always 'the friends'.

Well, the other day as I listened to her animated banter something struck me. I'm not sure how I missed it in all those quiet, giggling moments of eavesdropping, but I did.

No matter who she plays with, one of 'the friends' is always named 'Mommy'.

If you have you're own 'Roxy'. . .

Oh my goodness! I don't know if you all saw this link in the comments, but if you related to the 'Roxy' post or found it even remotely funny, you simply must check this out. LOVE it- it's like my own personal cartoon!

Thanks Allie!

http://www.nightswimming.com/rose/vicki/vicki1.html

Roxy

"Now if you are going to win any battle you have to do one thing. You have to make the mind run the body. Never let the body tell the mind what to do. The body will always give up. It is always tired in the morning, noon, and night. But the body is never tired if the mind is not tired."

General George S. Patten, US General and 1912 Olympian

Amen, General. Amen.

I've been doing my best to kick things into high gear to get my baby weight off, and so despite getting occasionally off-track (oh how we enjoyed that batch of peanut butter cookies last week!) I feel pretty good about my efforts. Sam turns nine months tomorrow and I'm back where I started. Yay! I still have a way to go to where I'd like to be ideally, but at least I'm on my way.

I once read a book about a woman who, when things became really tough and she was sure there was no way she could do something, invented a sort of alternate woman she could become to get the task done. She would tell herself, "I may not be able to approach that person. . . but Anabel sure can!"

I have to tell you that I found this both hilarious and delightful. So much so, that I find myself, on occasion, deferring certain tasks to Roxy.

In fact, she finished my run this morning when I was sure my energy was completely spent and I'd never make the last mile. She's really quite the go-getter, you know.

So here's to mind over matter and the glories of an alter-ego!

Pascally

We're big Rapunzel fans around here, and so naturally this was our Play-doh project-

Everyone, I'd like you to meet Pascally,

our favorite chameleon.

A lovely new pet, and no psycho heating rock to worry about malfunctioning and setting the poor thing aflame. Hooray!

I, uh, had a bad childhood experience.

Dad

Thanks to my mother-in-law's introduction, I am a huge fan of Erma Bombeck's writing.

Love it!

After reading this article of her's earlier this week, I was pretty sure she had mistakenly written about my dad and not her own husband. Throw a few 'utilization dinners' and a chunky watermelon smoothie into the mix and it is 100% him! I couldn't resist posting a copy of it as an 'ode' of sorts for Father's Day.

Whether it's your dad or not, I hope you enjoy!

CONSOLIDATING CEREAL, ICE CREAM, COOKIES, ETC.

by Erma Bombeck December 8, 1974.

I poured myself a bowl of cereal this morning, and out dropped the weirdest array of raisins, flakes, oats, puffs and squares I have ever seen.

"Whatcha call this?" I asked one of the kids.

"Frosted, fortified, cracked Cranbran flakes."

I dropped my spoon and slumped. "Don’t tell me. Your father is on his annual crusade to consolidate all the empty boxes cluttering up the cupboards into one box!"

"Right," said my son. "If you think the cereal tastes rotten, you should dip into the ice cream. He found six cartons, each with a different flavor, with a spoonful left in each box, and put them into one bucket. It looks like someone spit up at Howard Johnson’s (ed. – Baskin Robbins)." "Please," I cautioned. "No more.”

"Not only that, he mixed all the cookies left lying around into one bag, and every time you reach in, it’s like trick or treat. You don’t know if you’re getting one baked this year or not." "I’ll speak to him," I said.

I found their father in the bathroom trying to siphon a cap of toothpaste into another tube. "I want to talk with you," I said. "If it’s about the jellies being mixed together into one jar, I think you’ll find the flavor rather interesting.

"It’s not just the jellies," I said. "You’re becoming paranoid about empty boxes." "What’s wrong with that?" he asked.

"You’re making skeptics out of the children. They don’t believe in anything anymore. They grabbed a box marked pretzels off the shelf the other night and sank their teeth into banana-flavored corn chips."

"The banana corn chips weren’t moving in their box," he said.

"That’s not the point. You do it with everything. Mother asked for an aspirin. I gave her one of the pills that you mixed together into one bottle. I didn’t know if it would cure her headache, sweeten her breath, dry up her cold, put her to sleep, make her regular again or control birth. I can’t go on living with a man who grafts soaps together in the soap dish and puts cake coloring in old shampoo and pours it into herbal shampoo bottles."

"Go on out and have your cereal," he said softly. "You’ll feel better after breakfast."

I checked the dog’s food supply. The box was full. I felt better already.

For this, and oh-so-many other reasons,

I love you so Daddy-o!

Lovin'

The time has come once again for me to rant and rave about things that I love so much they simply can't be contained anymore.

The first has got to be Garage Sales and Thrift Stores. SO. MUCH. LOVE. We happened to be out driving last night and caught a woman setting up early for a yard sale she was having today and what was she putting out but a fabulous wooden hat stand for only $3! To understand how extremely cool this was you have to know that we were talking only the day before about how great it would be to find a cool hatstand for our living room. Seriously.

Despite the kiddos in the back, we snatched that and an like-new oscillating fan ($7) up and stuffed them into our car. And of course they fit because we're getting really good at fitting all sorts of odd things into our car- probably because both Ryan and I are SO stubborn the item being stuffed doesn't dare protest.

Anyway, the conquest inspired me. All day I've been reading a multitude of blogs like this one and this one about refinishing furniture, reupholstering chairs and couches and the like and I've made a decision: I'm going to jump in and become one of those crazy decorators with a plan, a wild glint in their eye, and a gorgeously eclectic home. Most of this is all coming to the surface as a result of us moving in less than a week (yeah, that kinda snuck up on me), and finding an apartment with an avocado kitchen. I say that and I'm sure most of you are thinking 'ew, the Sixties!', but I've gotta tell you I'm in love with it.

Don't get me wrong, I don't think it would have a place in the kitchen of my dreams, but I am such a fan of character and vintage that I can't help but love it. Plus, it reminds me a little of my grandma's house where we made many a lemon meringue pie or yellow cake with fluffy coconut frosting with delicious results.

I'm excited for the DIY summer I'm concocting in my head and plan to photograph and document it for posterity. . . or whoever might be reading. :)

Alright, one more thing I have to shout from the rooftops has been one of my all-time favorites as I've been nurturing my first successful container garden ever. That would be Freecycle.

I'm sure this fabulous site isn't a secret to most of you reading this (in fact I'm fairly certain I've chatted with the majority of you about it's wonders), but I'm putting my praise out there nonetheless. If you haven't checked this out, then what in the world are you waiting for?! Click on that link up there (but be sure to do the 'right click open in a new tab' thing so you can keep reading this!), find your area, and CHECK IT OUT. Ok, putting away the bossy pants now.

So would you like to know what I've found on Freecycle in just the last month? Would you?! Well, here's the awesome list of plant starts that are thriving on my porch. . .

Oregano

Sage

Chives

Chocolate Mint

Tarragon

Bachelor Buttons

and

Goldenrod

My garden is a beautiful thing to behold which makes me oh-so-happy! And the only things I've had to purchase myself are the potting soil and containers- isn't that awesome?!

That's all. Just a few more 'favorite things' I had to share. Spread the love people!!!

Memorial Day

Here is the catch-all post for the last few months of activities, though mostly it's about Memorial Day. Since both of us really enjoy visiting cemetaries (you had to know by now that we're quirky!), and it's been several years since we've been close enough to family graves, we were thrilled when asked to deliver mums in Grandma's absence.

And so, entrusted with such a monumental task (no pun intended),

we made a weekend out of it.

On Saturday we visited the grave of Ryan's great-grandparents. Reese especially loved that we were there to deliver flowers. She took her job very seriously and what time wasn't spent looking for these headstones was spent chasing her all over as she righted every pot she saw that had been tipped over.

Having been windy the night before, you can well imagine she had her work cut out for her.

Yes, Ryan is wearing buckskins in these shots. No he wasn't trying to 'blend in'- we stopped at the cemetary on our way to the Old Ephraim Rendezvous.

That night we thought it would be fun to have a family activity centered around the people we took flowers to earlier. So we decided to make Ryan's family's legendary Molasses Cookies.

Unfortunately we realized, after talking to his mom, that this particular recipe had come from the other side of the family.

Oops.

Oh well. It's the thought that counts, right?

Monday was part two of our Memorial Day celebration and it was honestly hilarious.

Don't be fooled by this lovely shot- it may look like a nice day but it was insane!

Rain, Hail, and lost in a cemetary with two little kids. Sounds like a horror movie, right?

We followed the directions, but 'right across from the SLC temple grave' lost meaning when we discovered not one, not two, but FOUR SLC temple monuments throughout the graveyard!

The upside?

We did finally find the right one,and learned how to read a cemetary map to boot.

Later that week Ryan had some unexpected free time so we decided to hit a few hikes that have been on the list for a while.

First we saw the site of the Bear River Massacre up north outside of Franklin, ID. Very interesting to see, but so tragic!

Beautiful views up there!

A few days later, we decided to hike up to see Old Ephraim's grave- a legend and the last known grizzly bear in Cache Valley.

Funny story. We followed the signs, hiked for about 3 or 4 miles, and somehow never made it.

Hmm. That tricky bear is still pretty elusive. ;)

But at least it gave us a chance to break in our new baby carrier.

LOVE it!

(Sam does too!)

And it gave Reese a chance to gather LOTS of rocks! Can you see her pockets bulging? lol.

We had such a great time in a seriously gorgeous canyon!

This Nut Machine will self-destruct in 5, 4, 3, 2 . . .

Have you ever been new to a gym? I don't mean transferring from one part of the city to another, dear Gymrats, I mean the myriad of awkward moments experienced when you're new to the whole "workout" scene. Those moments when you, in your ratty sweatpants and husband's t-shirt, look around and realize you never received the dress-code memo explaining that perfect hair, makeup, and brightly-colored Lycra are where it's really at. Heaven forbid you show up in something that's seen sweat and better days.

Those moments when you hang out at a 'safe' machine (aka the only one you can actually figure out how to use in the three seconds it takes to walk over to it, thus saving you the embarrassment of looking like an idiot caught up in the paint scaffolding) while you watch and wait and study how it's used by seasoned, spandex-clad professionals before diving in yourself. If you're like me, this sometimes takes weeks of careful planning and attention.

I bring this up only because that's been my relationship to the grind-your-own nut butter machines at Winco for the last several months. Since we don't have a store in Logan, I make a trip down every month or so. The last few times I've made a point to watch the almond butter machine with a close eye. Unfortunately, each of my stake-outs have tanked; no one strolled up to show me how it was done.

A few months ago, I mustered my courage and gave it a go. I grabbed a bowl, I pressed the button. Nothing. The machine hummed, but that was it. I quickly looked around, shook the machine a little and tried again. Still my bowl remained empty. Feeling flustered (this was exactly why I did my recon in the first place- stupid masses who never shared their nut-butter know-how!), I dropped the container and retreated.

Well, we were back again a few weeks ago and I decided to get back up on the horse. I'd been working it out in my mind over the last while, and figured that maybe the cap screwed on the front of the dispenser was the problem and only needed to be removed to get the butter flowing. I pulled up with my cart and kiddies, snatched up a bowl with confidence and began unscrewing the pin that held the cap in place. Never mind the elbow grease it took to get it to turn- after all, I knew what I was doing now. I held the bowl, I pressed the button, and every almond within a mile radius exploded like the first hydrogen bomb.

In a state of complete shock, I watched as both myself and my kids were pelted with bits of nut and oil flying at fifty mph! I was so stunned it took me a full minute to turn the thing off. When I finally did there was no hiding the evidence of my idiocy. We were wearing it. Reflexes returned and I snatched a baby wipe out of my bag like lightening, mopping and brushing us all off in an embarrassed frenzy. I prayed I could clean everything up before anyone rounded the corner to stop, stare, laugh, and, inevitably, ask if they could explain how to work such a simple machine.

I moved to the table, aiming to clear that evidence as well when Reese bellowed at the top of her voice,

"Mommy- NOOOO! Don't hurt yourself!!!"

You should have seen the spectators come rushing then.

Dang it, I guess that cap was important.

We walked up the cereal aisle and waited for the audience to clear before returning, slipping the cap back on and securing it into place. I held the bowl. I pressed the button. And a marvelous stream of well-earned almond butter poured out.

Ha! I knew I could do it.

Furs, Fun, and The Facts of Life

Since Molly hasn't put this up on the blog I've decided to take the initiative before this little gem of a story is forgotten all together.

The Saturday before Memorial Day Molly, Myself, and the munchkins all went up Sardine Canyon to the Old Ephraim Rendezvous. The Rendezvous was excellent; hundreds of jolly bearded men and their indulgent families came together to escape the mundane aspects of daily life and do things their wives won't let them to at home (ie: throw hand axes and knives, shoot guns, bows, and cannons). In some cases they do all of this after drinking so much they can't see straight. So why, you may ask, would any sane person attend one of these potentially hazardous events much less bring the family along? Because it's AWESOME! Yes I fully intend to be among the fur-clad, weapon-wielding, can't-help-but-live-in-the-past droves of men and women who call themselves mountain folk- minus the drinking part. Those of you that know me won't be surprised at this; there are, however, other little tidbits that don't involve shooting, hacking, or skinning. Here's an example, and this is really the point of the post:

Many of these mountain men will bring their family dogs along with them as they wander the grounds or sit to keep them company as they sell their wares (that's right ladies there is shopping, and your husbands will actually want to go too!). Anyone who knows our daughter also knows her insatiable desire to make friends with every animal she comes across. After petting nearly every dog at the Rendezvous we stopped at one final vendor who had a multitude of furs to sell along with a dog that was in the last weeks of her pregnancy. Her doggy radar aglow, Reese zeroed in on this new 'friend' and politely asked the man if she could pet the animal. When she was done, another canine checked off her list, she looked up innocently at my wife and I and said loudly,

"Mommy, that doggie has little boobies- see?"

Dumbstruck we looked and sure enough the dog was ready for her new brood. Slightly embarrassed by the stares we received from middle-aged men and women who turned to look at the child that had just yelled "boobies" at the top of her lungs and her parents trying to stifle their hysterical laughter, we moved on towards the parking lot as Reese said, again very loudly,

"Did you see them? There were lots and lots of boobies!"

Fully satisfied with our taste of the nineteenth century Mountain Man Rendezvous, we decided to return to civilization.

Summer Magic & Family Pictures

I am SO excited about this post!

A few weeks ago we set up an appointment with my amazing sister to have new family pictures taken-- check out her business blog here. We spent the evening at Liberty Park in SLC and had a blast wandering around, picnicking, and generally just doing our thing while she snapped away.

So. Much. Love.

A question for the pickle stork

We cruised the aisles of Wal-mart the other night with a hankering for pickles. We're particular about our pickles, though; kosher dills must be eaten only alongside deli-style subs and 'poh-boys', sweet midgets are only right at Grandma's- sliced into slim halves and arranged in a crystal bowl, and bread and butters are the pickle for all seasons, to be consumed anytime anywhere.

Of course, having no sandwiches on hand and finding ourselves miles away from Grandma's, we were looking for the favorite bread and butter only to encounter a conundrum. I see chips, spears, and sandwich stackers. . . but where are the whole bread and butters? Surely all these pickle bits came from a whole pickle at one time or another! Why are they holding back? Have the effects of this rocky economy extended to the world of condiments? Are we experiencing the first-ever cucumber shortage and pickle ration? Or maybe it's the latest terrorist plot intended to decimate American morale?

Unless. . . well, here's the slightly more reasonable solution.

Far away on a special farm, bread and butter pickles are simply 'born' or dropped in neatly packaged white bundles from the sky to happy harvesters who anxiously await news of whether they were blessed with a tiny chip or stacker. They don't question the way nature works, so why should we? Be grateful, eat the spear, and move on.

I need a hobby. I've been spending way to much time thinking about this! However, if any of you do know where to find a whole bread and butter pickle, I'd sure appreciate the tip.

I love a girl who knows exactly what she wants

About a week or so ago I talked to my little niece to plan her birthday cake. This year her birthday will fall at the end of our big Spaulding family reunion and Grandma, on her last visit to Texas, suggested we hold a little celebration as one of the festivities. Grandma also happened to suggest a Patriotic-themed cake since it will be July.

Before continuing, I have to say that I absolutely love this little girl- she cracks me up. Nine years old and the stories about her are already legendary; everyone knows and loves them and we usually end up weeping with laughter by the end of the telling.

So here's something of how our conversation went. . .

Me: "Ok, do you have any ideas for your cake?"

Annalee: "Yes. Aunt Molly, I want red, white and blue,

and an American flag- with the stripes and stars. And a river. And I want the Declaration of Independence on it, a feather quill, Thomas Jefferson, and a tricorn hat.

Lucky I had a pen and notebook handy. Smoke was starting to rise from the friction of my furious scribbling, trying to keep up. It appeared my own little idea of how this cake was going to go was already out the window. And I'm thinking to myself, did she really say a tricorn?

M: "Sorry, hun,. . . you want a what?"

A: "A TRI-CORN." Spoken in her slowest, help-the-toddler-learn voice. "Do you know what that is, Aunt Molly? It's a hat."

M: "Sure do." Scribble, scribble, sigh and drop the pen. "Alright, well that sounds pretty cool. . . is that it?"

A: "Nope. I want fireworks coming out of the top, and the cake should be white and then we can have ice cream and have blueberry sauce and strawberry sauce, and then that will go with the red white and blue. And can it be three layers tall with ten candles on top?"

M: "Wow, alright. That sounds pretty darn cool. How 'bout some tie-dye? Are you sure you don't want a little red, white, and blue tie-dye in there too?"

A: Silence. "Ok."

Like I said, I love a girl who knows exactly what she wants. It commands respect.

I think this cake will too. We'll probably need to salute before cutting.

Then her little brother got on the phone to tell me precisely what I needed to teach his mom to do for his Super Mario birthday cake on Friday.