Star Struck

This is what the kids saw on Thanksgiving Eve, as we were indulging ourselves as fat, spoiled Americans. (Who goes out to eat the night before Thanksgiving?! You know you’re going to eat your guts out the next day!) He had on the most awesome red pants and striped socks.







They were terribly Star Struck. No one could say a thing. I said, "Tell him what you want." “Uhhh.” They replied. Silence. (It was very nice of him to stop and say hello, though.)

After he left, they did say A LOT. Like, “Where did he park his reindeer?” And, “The elves must be at the mall.” Samuel was very skeptical, shaking his head no, like he didn't believe it. You could see him trying to figure this out. The other two had thier wheels spinning, taking it all in.

And so it begins. I can officially listen to Christmas Music.

The Feast

Are you still so full that the sight of this is making you need to take a nap? Me too.

Gobble. Gobble.

Giving Thanks

Simon put 14 feathers on his paper turkey at school on Tuesday. He asked me to guess why. (I didn't know.) He said that is how many people will be coming to our house for Thanksgiving! You should have seen the look of horror when I told him that no one was coming. I've been trying to make it up to him all day. Turkey hand place cards, fake paper corn for a centerpiece. And even a date with me; he got tic-tac's, lemonade, a donut, and a balloon. I think he'll be fine.

It seems weird to have Thanksgiving by ourselves, considering I have two sisters and my parents all less than an hour from me. But different plans for each led to a Tennis Family Thanksgiving. Just us. I think it will be nice.

My favorite Thanksgiving was in Seattle, I was about eight or nine and the power was out for days. Frequently, this time of year, Seattle is hit with wonderful blustery storms. We huddle in our homes hoping the enormous evergreens stay out of our homes. (fear of them crashing through your roof – this is not uncommon)

We had no electricity for more than three days. (we even showered at the church) I think someone that did have power, cooked the turkey for us. And it seems like the rest of the food was cooked on our wood stove. We lived deep in the woods, where not only was it very easy to get lost; but very hard for the power company to reconnect us. We were always last in the powering up line.

This beautiful house, so full of memories, smells and love; is now gone. It has been torn down, to make way for the hundreds of homes put in its place. (all unoccupied, due to financial recession) I always imagined my children going home to the “Bothell House” for Thanksgiving. It was an amazing place to grow up. Nestled snugly in 7.5 acres of trees that seemed to go on into the sky, forever.

While I always think of “home” this time of year, I know that the feelings I had there can be made anywhere. Tonight I made pies, rolls, cheese ball, rainbow jello, and am getting the turkey ready. All of which I learned to do in our big house at the end of the lane. I hope my kids are making these fond memories and they will remember their times at Thanksgiving in “The Big Blue House.”

And give thanks.

The Crappy Croup

I thought I had made it. Really. Four kids and not one, ever getting the croup. “Ha!” says croup, “I laugh in your face!” (said in your best Spanish accent) Yep. Chubbles has the croup. Poor chubblie wubblie. So cute, and so sick, to boot.

Thanks to a good friend’s advice, I took him to the doctor, and he did in fact have the croup. I, after four kids, and being a professional/amateur doctor, am usually quite hesitant to take my kids in. “He’ll be fine. No one else has ever had it.” Silly me.

Simon had a croupy bark a week ago, but five year olds don’t get the croup – right? Wrong. I found this out yesterday, the doctor told me I should have taken him in as well. Oops. Oh well. Had I known this, I would have made sure Si wasn’t coughing in everyone’s faces. Again, oops.

Never fear, though. Chubbles in on the mend. A steroid shot, an epinephrine nebulizer treatment and five days of oral steroids – and he should be good as new. Sheesh! Super glad I’m not a pioneer. A cough like that in the middle of the night, for them, could very possibly lead to death. ( Or like when MinnieMae had that horrible cough in Anne of Green Gables and even though Diana and Anne where forbidden to see each other, Anne trudged through the snow to save MinnieMae, and Mrs. Berry forgave all. Remember? Oh, Anne. You’re the greatest.) Thank heavens for modern medicine.

For now, we think the raspy, heavy breathing and babbling are kind of cute. And boy, it sure is muffling the loudest crier on the planets voice. (Honestly, I don’t think I have ever heard a louder cry. Cry is code for “screaming your guts out” at our house.) That, I will say, is a bonus.

Famous last words

On a recent bridal consult, I had a funny thing happen. (Luckily, nothing to do with the bride.) I met her and a friend at the location of the wedding center. The actual wedding was to be a few blocks away. This meant we had to drive there. In a haste, we decided to just cram everyone into her car, many adults and children, included. You know that saying, “famous last words?” Well the brides were, “There won’t be any cops. These are all back roads that no one is ever on, anyway.”

First thing we see? A police car. We chuckle, “Oh, that’s funny. Haha.” No speeding, we duck where necessary, etc.

As we arrive at the destination, all of our mouths drop. The en-tire parking lot is FULL of police cars, and cops are everywhere! (What the heck!?) We park a bit away, hoping that as we all pile out, no one is counting that there could not possibly be enough seats in that car, for that many people.

Upon approaching the building, we see the source of so many men and women in uniform. The entire City of Lehi police force are having their annual photo taken. There they are, every police man, woman, chief, secretary, jail keeper and dog. Everyone. (what was that about "no cops?")

The only thing I could think to say was, “Quick, let’s get out of here and rob a bank. Every cop in town is right here!” (lol)

Try and tell me.

Try it. Go ahead, just try and tell me these are NOT the cutest skirts ever. Really. I dare you. Okay, okay. So maybe you don't think so. But I just el-oh-vee-ee them! (that's love them, to you)
I haven't actually worn them out of the house yet. They are just a basic, right below the knee, wrap around. I bought one for a gift, but loved it so much - it may just be a gift, for ME. I am crazy about the bead work. I know, it may be a little over the top. But - sorry. I had to have them!

I think church may be a little too casual, but maybe not. The big problem there are little hands. (and bums and feet and teeth...)

At any rate, can't wait to wear one of them. Somewhere. Anywhere. I've tried them on a lot, and poor Peter. I say, "Aren't they cute? Don't you just love them?" A lot.

What's that smell?

Recently my car stunk. I mean really stunk. The - when we got in the car for church on Sunday, the kids were hanging their heads out the windows in terror – kind of stunk. Peter was convinced of a lost stinky diaper. “Nooo. I would never do that.” (Hehe, at least I think I would never do that. Uh, oh. Eeek. Panic.)

So I search high and low. Several times! There are, mind you, pieces of lost garbage here and there. But no stinky diaper. Whew! I knew I wasn’t that bad of a mom. (lol)

After nearly a week of sheer DYING in the car, I got mad. Real mad. What is that stink!!

(You know my life is rediculous when I KEEP driving like this. "Get in, hurry, we're going to be late!" In and out, all day. Each time I say, "It reeks in here! Crime-in-ee! I gotta fix that!" Drop off, screech home, drag kids in, feed, change, nap..."Get in, hurry, we're going to be late!" Repeat. I think I truly may be a taxi driver. I'm pretty sure I've smelled rotting food in cabs all over NY in my days of yore.)

Let me rewind…A week earlier we had gone go to Salt Lake for some errands. Luckily, the store was right down the street from my favorite, hole-in-the-wall, Chinese restaurant. After stuffing our family selves to the tippiest top, Samuel asked an innocent enough question. “Can I pleeeaaase take the last egg roll home? I’m too full to eat it now, but I can put it in my pocket for later.” (Your pocket!!??)In a shuffle of cleaning up, making sure Simon didn’t have an allergy attack, Ruby being the Tasmanian Devil, and the baby flailing - I said, “sure.” Oh, silly me. I must have momentarily gone insane.

In the car…his one bite later, I have totally forgotten about the egg roll. The cabbage, bean sprout, vegetable filled egg roll. Forgotten. Pulled out of his eight year old pocket, bitten, and lost in the depths of our trusty “great white.”

Needless to say, after prying every last piece of paper and garbage out of the car, deep down in the dark cavern of the back seat, I found the culprit. Can you guess what the smell was yet? Yep, the rotting egg roll. P.U...Ew.

Birthday Blog: Meet Maile

Meet Maile. (No, not like mail. Like Hi-lee. Funny, I know.) She’s another of my “sisters” that are not blood. The kind that give me hope for Roo. She does have her own sister, Amy. Who I should mention, also falls into the sister category.

Photo: We were waitresses together at The Bar 14. A totally woofy restaraunt in Ellensburg.(think a really bad Denny's) Love the outfit! If only you could smell the grease, feel the slippery gross floors(now on your shoes), or clean out the coffee pots with us. Oh, the good old days. I still have my name tag, but I don't think a photo of me in my uniform. Darn. (haha)

“Bar fourteen ranch house restaurant, this is Maile, how can I help you?”

“Yes, Maile, this is Patty. Mike, you know, the revolting line cook with the gross facial hair, blue sweats, glasses, always smoking, hits on the waitresses non stop, wears a sweat stained shirt who makes Mel (from the show Alice) look like a true gentleman? Yes, well he would like the cat you stole from the dumpster, back.”

Photo: Maile "waited" for a very nice boy. (We like Scott better!) This boy was not Scott, but here she is posing with a leather engraved map of the other boys mission. Classy!

Photo: We went to Disneyland just before I got married. The Granger Girls spent my last single night with me before my wedding. I love them both so much. Amy caught my bouquet at the reception and had her first date with her husband, to be, that night. Hubba hubba.

We were roommates for years and very good friends. She was a brides maid of mine, and I was one of hers. We went through lots of boys, until we found the ones we married. We even, get ready to throw up(just kidding),…kissed the same guy. (Not at the same time! Ew.) We spent many a fun time in The Berg.

Photo: Maile (left) and Amy. Isn't Maile a beautiful girl? Check out those collar bones (so are you Amy, but this isn't about you!) Forest green dresses. Hmm? What year did I get married?

It's okay, I wore burgandy to hers. :)

She is the mother of four and married to Scott. Note to all single adult activity planners: Don’t play musical chairs with the boys knees being "the chairs." I mention this here, because this was the first time I met Scott. Sorry if I broke your leg. Eeek. Actually, I can’t remember if I even sat on his “chair.”

Maile is funny, a great audience for the likes of me. She is truly kind and most of all she is a definite CTRer. She makes great decisions and is a rock. I love her and am a better person for knowing her.

Thanks for listening to ALL my woes, jokes, dumb ideas and more. And thanks for still being my friend, hottie pants. I love you.

Aren’t you glad I didn’t mention you getting out of the shower naked, early one moring, and your knees buckling beneath you, and you falling to the ground while Amy and I laughed hysterically? (we're mean) I know, I’m a good friend like that. Why would I want to bring that up and embarrass you? That’s just mean.

Love ya, Seaky Snake!

The old me

Today, on the way out of “hip-hop” (say in your best attitude voice), someone asked me a question that I almost choked on. “Were you a dancer?” A flood of responses swirled in my mouth. “NO” or “I did a little” or “Why?” or “Uhh.” But what came out made me a little sad. “I used to be. A very, very, veeery long time ago. I can hardly remember, and I can hardly find myself under all of me now.” (oh, haha) This tiny, blonde, pretty forty year old says, “I used to be one, too. Isn’t it fun to dance again?”

To dance again. Yes, it is SO fun to dance again. But it made me think of all the things I used to do. Things I did long before I got older, and chubbier, and mommier, and wifier. Not that I don’t love this part of my life, I truly do. But, it’s true, dancing for me; makes my heart sing. I know there is something for you. Is it running? Is it singing? Skiing? Painting? Playing a sport? Doing math? Really doing your hair? You know when you walk into the environment that once consumed you? You know how you feel at home there, yet a little homesick? I get that way.

It’s the same when I walk into an art studio, for me. Dance and art where once my everyday life. Really, every single day I did one, the other, or both. Again; we move on. But underneath who we are, are the things that made us, us. I can’t wait for my kids to find in them, them.


What I realized today, is that I can foster just a little of who I once was. Just a bit; and so can you. Turn the radio up and dance while you do the dishes today. Sing on your way to work. Kick a goal in the yard with your kids, or shoot a hoop for fun. Really. Just that little bit of the old you, will make you a better you today. It will make you a better mom, wife, sister, or whoever and whatever you are. I was never real good at things I loved. But I was really good at loving them. And so were you.

So, whatever it is that you once lived for, just for a second today, live for it again. And know that joy is also part of the journey. A big part.

Just Flowers

This is a post just for my flowers. If you haven't already figured out on my blog; I love flowers. They make me happy and I can't enough. (so get comfy because there are a lot of photos here) If you want more info on my flowers, leave a comment or call. I love doing weddings! Who doesn't love being totally involved in a persons wedding? Okay, so maybe some of you. But not me, I love it!

Check out my Just Cakes post also, and thanks for looking!

p.s. I have lots of my own wedding tips, do's and don'ts on here as well. Look around.