Fire Hose Fun

When I was eight, I became a criminal. While at a store with my mom, I saw a one inch, heart shaped ceramic tile on the floor, and had to have it. I picked it up and put it in my pocket. Yes. It’s true. I am a thief. I kept it forever. Like, I mean, I think I still have the thing in a box out back. I carry guilt a long way, a really long way.

When I was 14, Kath and I went to EFY. She had tapioca pudding back in the dorm, but no spoon to eat it with. What’s a girl to do? As she picked the spoon up off the dining hall table and put it in her pocket - at that exact moment – the fire alarm went off. Big, yelling sirens. “Kath, put it back! Put it back!” Like, duh, Teresa – the spoon is rigged? Cameras saw it? Please. With a slight hesitation, she put the spoon right back into her Limited brand, denim jacket. And now, I was aiding and abetting a criminal. Great.

At the Canadian border, my visits go (or, shall I say, went – like this)

Citizenship?

U.S. Well, my dad’s Canadian. Well, now he’s American, but he was born in Canada. Oh, uh – but now were both Americans. Not that being Canadian is a bad thing, it’s just that…

Ma’am, where is your place of residence?

Seattle. Well, not really Seattle. It’s a suburb 11 miles north, called Bothell. But, really it’s the greater Seattle area…

Ma’am! Are you bringing anything across the border?

Well, uh, I have some corn nuts and sweet tarts. But not the little ones, the big chewy ones. They’re my favorite. And these are my ‘traveling’ foods. But, not really anything else…

That’s fine, Ma’am. What is the purpose of your visit?

To see my grandma. Well, actually to see her grave. You see, she’s dead. So, we’ll be heading to Surrey, but that’s just her grave. She lived in Cardston…

Ma’am! How long will you be staying in Canada?

Just for the day, well – we might spend the night. And I’m not sure when we’ll be…

Step out of the car and open your trunk, ma’am….

You see? I have a truth problem. And not the kind of truth problem most people think of. The kind where I have to over-tell the truth. I think this is due to some people I have been close to in my life not being the greatest tellers of truth. So, I have to over compensate. Which brings me to the main story of this post, which I will try to tell briefly. So, here goes:

While I did my sentence at Ricks College, I was often looking for trouble. Teresa version of trouble, that is. Like, staying out past curfew. (oh, my!!) Or, not getting clearance to spend the night at a friend’s house. (Heathen!! Hello! I’m 19, living away from home – do I need to ask to spend the night away from my apartment?! Sheesh!) And yes, even – hold the phone, folks, I wore mens jeans to class! Eeek! You heard it here, I broke the honor code by wearing clothes meant for boys. Heaven help us!

One sleepy evening, driving around the town of Rexburg, my friends and I came across a vacant lot. And what did our eyes behold?

A fire hose. Yep, you heard me. An abandoned fire hose.

Well, that was right up my alley. I could certainly find a use for that. And, it was left there. So, I wasn’t really stealing now, was I? Obviously, the fire department didn’t need it anymore. So –‘ into the trunk with you, little fella’. (Actually, it was sooo heavy; we could hardly get that beast into the trunk of my little Mazda 626 - and practically wet our pants we were laughing so hard)

And there he sat. Oh, I had big plans for that baby. Maybe I’d leave him on the front porch of someone, as a funny joke. Perhaps I would hang him from the giant old tree in front of the Spori Building. Oh, yeah…I had plans.

I drove around with that beastly thing in my trunk for weeks. And each night I’d lay in bed and think – what should I do with it? And then, each night, this would happen…

What if the fire department accidentally left it there?

What if they were coming back to get it the next day and it was gone?

It must be expensive to replace a fire hose.

What if there is an emergency and they said, “Don’t worry Joe, we have our spare hose in the vacant lot of 1st?” But really, I had their spare?

See? I have guilt.

So, one night, late into the fall. We drove back to the vacant lot, and replaced the fire hose just as we found it.

And really, I’ll bet it’s still there. Sitting and waiting, all 8,000 pounds of it, to be used as a great practical joke.

Maybe next year, old buddy.

Splish-splash

Remember how I told you that Spring is near? Well, at our house that means kids outside, all-day-long. And, more than just that, it means kids in the dirt, all-day-long.

I just thought I'd share the bathtub view, after their day in the dirt.

Yeah, they had a great time outside - don't you think?

Spring, it is a comin'!

Saturday, the sun shown it's lovely face, here in Happy Valley. Oh, and were we happy! So happy, that the Tennis clan went out for an afternoon adventure...to the bike trail.

Now, while I ride a bike at least three times a week, you must know, that I don't in fact ever go anywhere. (spinning, you know) As I have mentioned before, bikes and I aren't friends. But, the rest of the fam do own bikes. So, when they bike; I roller blade. Scary, I know.

Here's Big Daddy ready for the ride. 'Lookin' Good!'

Those are Big Daddy's squinty eyes, not his angry eyes - just in case you were confused. Check out Chubbles' squints as well. He's so cute and cubber-ific.

Here's proof, that I did indeed put my 1997 roller blades on, and they are still workin' like a champ! (uh, not a whole lot of use...)

Here's what I pushed the whole time. Please take note of my sweet helmet shadow. Yes, Peter insisted I wear a helmet. Never mind that he and the big boys all have new cool helmets and I am wearing one to match the age of the blades.

"Fat, nerdy mom, comin' through!" Oh yeah, you heard me right. This was proven even more when we came across some not yet melted ice. Just so you know, even at very slow speeds, roller blades and ice don't mix. I did the very graceful 'splits' to prove this. I caught myself and was trying to get up, when a group of 'oh-so-fit' bikers came along -

"Hey, you guys need help here."

No, just the fat, nerdy mom with the handicap helmet on, trying to get her big can off the ground. Thanks though, nothing to see here, move along.

Lot's of this. Boys coming back and forth between mom and dad.

Blue skies, white snow, and bright sun!

And, of course, before we headed home, they had to build a 'dam' in the melting run off. What would be a day out, without a good squish in the mud?

Yep, Spring is very near. I can feel it.

More Gush 'bout those I love

We were blessed with our first child having a heart of gold. Soft and wonderful, trusting and forgiving. He is first to love and comfort, choose the right, and make people smile.

This year at school, he told me that during a thunderstorm he and his friends were scared on the playground. So they wanted to say a prayer. He had them all kneel down at the back of the field. “No one wanted to say it mom, so I did.” Angelic.

He also told me that he and his friend made a promise that they would always take care of the girls at school. “Mia was cold today so I offered her my coat, mom. But – she said she was fine without it.” Prince Charming.

He cleaned his room last weekend and as we were finishing up looked at me and said, “Mom, I think I can feel the Holy Ghost. It feels so nice in here.” A mothers dream.

With all of these sweet-as-sugar events, I have also recently encountered a bit of the opposite. He’s pushing buttons and testing limits. Suddenly, my first born loves to argue. This is new for him, but with a mom like me; who’s surprised? Really. The arguing comes, like clockwork, at homework time. As I urge and prod, he pushes and bucks. He is one who, while easy going, is also easy going on his homework. Like, a snail, easy going.

“Why do you always have to yell at me?” He says.

“You think this is yelling? This is firmly asking you to get to work. But if you’d like me to yell, I can.” (I then proceeded with the ‘I am helping you because I love you’, and the old – ‘try living with another family for a while and see how you like them’. Business.)

“Fine! Why don’t you just leave me outside for three weeks and I’ll throw snowballs at the house!”

What do you say to this? I swallowed a GIANT laugh and we both calmed down a bit.
We talked for a few more minutes about why it’s important to keep trying and do your best. Not to get discouraged, and little improvements are all that matter.

“Now, I’ll never be the smartest kid in the class like Brandon!”

“Well, you’re the nicest. And really, that’s what Heavenly Father wants more than anything. You’re just as smart as anyone else in your class. You’re just not the fastest at your timed facts. That’s okay.”

“But I want to be the nicest AND the smartest, mom!”

We all have lofty aspirations, Samuel. Being the nicest and the smartest are two of greatest things a kid could want to be. Now if he could only hang on to this for the next 20 years, we’d be fine.

I just love this boy. He brings such love and joy to our family, and really, to everyone he knows.

On the day of our Fall Party, he says to me: “Mom, do you need help? I have to go put on my cub scout uniform. (with a big smile and an ere of matter-of-fact-ness) Because a scout is helpful!”

In December, it was Peter’s MTC entrance anniversary, 16 years ago.

We ate at The Training Table to celebrate, as this was his last meal before his entering. I said to Peter, “This would be a fun tradition to look forward to” as we drove up the hill to drive through the MTC, “we could take the boys there, like you did, before we put them in the MTC.”

We both looked at each other and almost started crying. “Ahh. What am I saying!!!” I said aloud, and thought inside - "I don’t want my babies to leave me for two years! "

And Peter says, “The only place I’m 'putting them' is in their beds!”

Oh, please don’t get any bigger. Stay home and argue with me about homework, let me step on your blasted legos a little longer, laugh and giggle ‘til I yell down the stairs each night, please still call me from school telling me you forgot your lunch, keep turning on your way out the door and say “Oh, I forgot to give you a kiss!”.

And please oh please, let me remember all of these wonderful times, time that sometimes I wish would hurry up and end. Let me live in the now and love every single second with you. Because, I know, that all too soon I will be dropping you off at the MTC and wishing I could have my little eight year old back for just a few minutes.

Love

Why can't love be this simple?

I saw a woman at the gym today reading “The Five Love Language’s for Children” and thought, ‘I could use that.’

Each of my children is so different. Really, SO different. And each has their own way of showing and receiving love. I, on the other hand, am not real good at meeting their individual needs.

But I want to be.

I want to love them more. Love them better. I want them to feel more loved.

I don’t want you to think that I don’t love them. Because I do. It’s just that I think I show them love more of the way, I like to be loved. Doing ‘things’ for them.

For example:

I make their lunch so their not hungry, clean their clothes so they can keep warm, help with homework so they can grow into better students, drive them around so they can play sports and take lessons, get them to school so they can learn, get them to play dates so they can make and keep friends, teach them about the Gospel so they can gain a testimony of their own, keep the house clean so they are comfortable (well…usually), love their dad so they will know how to love their spouse (and because I like him J), reprimand them so they can learn boundaries, talk harsh so they can know that I feel the issue is important, help them clean their rooms and do their chores so they can learn to take care of their own things someday, make sure they have clean teeth/hair/underwear each day so people wont shun them (because every other kid they know does the same?! Yeah, right.), tell them go outside so they can learn to explore on their own, have them say they’re sorry with words and a hug because I want them to learn remorse and forgiveness, hug and cuddle them because I want them to feel what love and affection is, tell them I love them, I’m proud of them, I respect them; because I want them to know what love sounds like.

And much, much more. It’s a pretty busy life around here. I try to show love throughout each and every day. But, sometimes it gets jumbled between all of the things listed above. This is when I think just a cuddle on the couch needs to happen. Just being together.

I hope one day they will know that while love is shown in many, many ways – I tried to show them the best way I knew how.

Trimming trees en espanol

Yeah. I took five years of Spanish. So what?! I spent a month in Mexico and Guatemala. What’s it to ya? Huh?

Okay, so I can’t speak Spanish worth frijoles. Sad. Very sad.

But, I’ve come to the conclusion that they need to revamp the Spanish courses in this country. I needed some new phrases today. Bad. My “Hola, me llamo Teresa. Como esta usted.” Didn’t come in very handy. Shoot.

I needed phrases phrases like: ‘How much to trim my two apple trees and one cherry? How ‘bout my other two big trees?’

Which sounded more like this: ‘Conto cuesta to cut (make cutting scissor signals with my fingers here) mi arboles apple y cherry?’ (I forgot I knew apple, I think it’s mazana)

Then, he went like this, back to me: ‘kwjheri sjfhaiu sejfiwu gjawier amfbaewi erjbifawbv ejiwjebiwlak nfoier ekroegner aoi kngoiewr gfnoeir eorh.’

And I said: ‘Menos rapido por favor.’ (in a really fantastic accent)

I don’t know how to say Can you please speak slower, so I had to ask them to “go less fast.” I know. I’m really good.

In the end, we got it all worked out. I even felt quite a grown up, hiring out my yard work. And yes, I admit, I did help with the immigration problem today. BUT, don’t judge me too quickly. I did clean my own kitchen floor today. On. My. Own. Hands. And. Knees. So there.

Sra. Dorres (My Spanish teacher) would be horrified. I don’t know how I got A’s for all those years. Oh, wait. Yes I do. I was a fantastic piñata maker (Carmen Miranda’s head, fruit and all, was my shining moment here), made great la dia del muerto puppets (My Statue of Liberty, day of the dead puppet was the best), I always brought delicious food for Cinco de Mayo, and I made the class laugh a lot. Doesn’t this count for something?

Apparently not when you need to discuss the trimming of you trees. Hmm. Maybe I should have offered to make them a piñata.

I’m still really good at this.

Mister Sun

Dear Mr. Sun,

Sometimes when I adorn myself in layers of dress ups, I can't help but get all warm and sleepy. Then I settle in for a good read on my under stuffed bean bag. When your winter rays blanket me with warmth, I need a daytime slumber. And as I snooze, I dream the luxurious dreams of a little girl.

Before I woke the other day, I sleepily uttered these words, "I like it" *smile* "Now let's decorate it!" *giggle* My mom couldn't help wondering what I was dreaming about, but she thinks it must have been something very fun...and pink.

Thanks for the wonderful winter nap, Mister Sun. I needed it.

Love,

Roo

"mister sun, sun - mister golden sun, please shine down on me"

Stinkin' Like Subs

Did you ever have a favorite job? Mine was at a sandwich shop called Georgio’s Subs. Now, I know you’re all thinking that this is due to my 'chubba-rella-ness', but it’s not. Okay, so they were good and the frozen yogurt even better – but it wasn’t just the food. I loved it because it was fun. It was a total no-brainer job. Just chit chat with the customers, and make yummy sandwiches for them. And, that, I did.

"Hi, what can I get for you?

White or wheat?

Foot long or six inch?

Swiss, American, provolone or cheddar?

Lettuce, tomato, onion?

Any other veggies?

Mustard, mayonnaise, oil, vinegar, salt or pepper?"

Ahh. I can still smell my stinky self now. This was defiantly a job where I came home smelling like “work”, aka - subs. Truly, every boys dream, a girl that smelled like Georgio’s Subs. (Well I did date a few different guys while working there. Including the one I married!)

My favorite was when a foreigner would come in and ask, in their thick accent, for a six inch “wedgie”. (Yes, I’m still this juvenile.) They meant a six inch veggie, you sick-o’s! It's the name of a sandwich!

I decided to live at home the second semester of my Sophomore year in college. So, the day after New Years my dad called my a free-loader and told me I had to get a job! (He’s so sweet. Love ya dad!) I had worked in the offices above Georgio’s in Kirkland a few years earlier, had eaten there many times, and happened to be in the area. I saw the sign, interviewed right then, and got the job on the spot. (Who you callin’ a free loader now, Dad?)

It was a place where, when the sun shined, not too often in Seattle, the place was hoppin’. I think that’s what I loved. Just people in for a fun lunch, food for the beach, or a sandwich on the run. My dream job? Own my own Georgio’s.

( I heard they franchised and they aren’t as good. Shameful. Same guy, Bill Richey, still owns it. I'm sure he'd remember me. After all, I was the best employee he ever had - sheesh!)

Birthday Blog: Meet my Mom

Meet my mom. Her name is Linda, and she's the greatest! She was born on February 13, the day before Valentine's Day - 'cause she's such a sweet heart. (aaaaah, what a sweet daughter; I know) The thing is, though, I can't remember one - not one, birthday I ever spent with her. Now, I know I must have. But I really don't have any memory of this. 'Why?' You ask. 'That seems a little strange.' The answer is simple, and the photo below tells all.

My mom shares the same birthday as her father...And her brother. Yep, either Feb. 13th was a really lucky day for my grandma - or a really NOT lucky day. (just kidding! Remember, if the recipiant of a Birthday Blog can take a joke - then, these are all about fun! - So laugh!) This is a photo taken by the newspaper, telling all about the sharing of their birthday. (cute, huh?)

Here's my mom looking H-O-T. Seriously. I'm pretty sure this is right when my dad got home from his mission, and she was really trying to catch him..."Oh, yes Hugh, I just LOVE basketball. It's my favorite sport. I love when they make a field goal - it's so exciting." In this picture she's standing between her dad and my dad. (her, uh- 'chest' is a little pointy though. must have been the fashion. Also, I'm pretty sure she hadn't eaten in a few months)

And here my parents are almost 44 years later. "Stiiiiiil got it!"

And all of their kids.

And all of their grandkids. (except Chubbles, he was still in the belly at this point)

And her story (or the photos I have of it) begins:

Linda and Hugh met while she was in YW in Spokane, Wa. My dads sister was my moms Laurel Advisor. So, she had an eye on him early on. But, in true female fashion, she's a multi tasker. She had one eye on him, while he was in Sweden serving an LDS mission for 2 1/2 years, and her other eye on two other boys while he was gone. "Dear Hugh...Let me count the ways in which I love you..." She was engaged to two other people while he was gone. Gotta love her!

Linda is a fantastic musician. She played bass in a high school dance band through her teen years. (and I mean the big, giant, stand up kind of bass) Her parents bought her a little gold VW 'Bug' to drive around. I've often envisioned her putting the passenger seat down, hauling the bass to the back of the Bug and hanging the neck out the window. She was cool, that's all I know. Linda also went to BYU Hawaii, before it was BYU Hawaii. (Church college of Hawaii - or something like that) Again, she has great stories from there. I'm quite sure that we would have been really good friends if we were born the same year. Of course, we are really good friends anyway - but a lot of that has to do with the fact that she's my mom, and I've known her my whole life.

Hugh and Linda were married Dec. 28, 1963. Isn't she cute? I wore the 're-vamped' version of her wedding dress. (A LOT bigger, shorter sleeves, satin trimmed and what not.) I love that I had the opportunity to do this. It meant a lot to me.

They quickly moved to Toronto, Canada for a couple of years after being married.

Remember, Birthday Blogs are for fun! I couldn't pass up this awesome "blinking" photo. Looks like she may have tipped back a few too many. Good thing I know better, and that she's just blinking.

I love this photo of family dinner in Boise. My mom is just about the same age there, as I am now. She looks so pretty and put together. Five kids? Good night, woman! And putting on the spread for extended family - she has always been a great homemaker. (or at least until we left home, I think Hugh might not think that's her strong point anymore - hahaha)

Here in Utah, I can officially say Mom, that I think you are thinner than your mom here. Good work! You look adorable. (even if your glasses look like you might have borrowed them from a bee. :)

When the song, "Jitterbug" by Wham! came out, my mom made sure to teach Mindy and I. It took most of the summer, but we leanred the jitterbug. Here's a picture of her and her brother dancing. She comes from a very fun family.

Well, I couldn't miss the Midas Muffler hat and scarf, now could I? My mom wore these beauties for years! She was often found in her gorgeous mink coat, adorned with her bright yellow hat and scarf. Sweeeet.

If there were one outfit that had to describe my mom - it'd be a Mumu. Yep. For sure. She's been wearing them for as long as I can remember. And in fact, I love them because they remind be of her.

My mom is practical. Well, sometimes. We still enjoy laughing about our family trip to Hawaii where she made and pre-packed tons of frozen spaghetti sauce to take with us. Or the time we went to The Marriott Casa Magna Resort in Cancun, (expensive!) and she brought cans and cans of Deviled Ham and Red Vines for us to live on. Hmmm. Practical or crazy? You make the call.

This outfit we fondly call, "Puggy Puke-us". It's a fond childhood name of hers. (hahaha) This was the dress she bought for Krista's wedding. Not her finest choice in clothing. But she did wear a pretty nice wig to Mindy's. Ohh, where's a picure of that!?

The Birthday Clan again! (a little older though, my grandpa is 95 years old today.)

Happy Birthday, Mom! I love you the most. You are the greatest mother and grandmother. We are SOOOO blessed to have been raised by you and dad. Thank you for all of the many, many countless hours you have poured into each of one of your children. You are truly an amazing woman and mother.

Happy Birthday!

Mom Birthday Blog! Stay tuned, check back in a couple of hours. It's been a loooong week and and an even longer night. But - Birthday Blogs Must Go On!

Recipes!

Here’s the bread recipe you’ve all been waiting for. Okay, well not waiting for – but here it is, none the less. It really is the easiest, fastest, yummiest recipe ever. I have never been one to care about the flour, but I will totally admit that good flour makes a huge difference. I’ve made it a lot using regular grocery store flour, and it’s still really good. But I suggest you find your local equivalent to Lehi Roller Mills Turkey Flour. I’ve heard there is something called Montana something or other at most grocery stores that I think would work well. And you can get lecithin at health food stores and the like. Maybe just your baking isle, not really sure. I got it at the Bosch kitchen center here in town.

I am also including a family favorite. It’s called Poppy seed Chicken and our family, and many others love it. My bread, the chicken and our family’s chocolate cake recipe are by far my most asked for recipes. So, without further a dew, here they are! (let me know if you want me to post the cake…together they all make a fantastic Sunday dinner – okay, so add a veggie in if you want. Fine.)

5 c. white bread flour
¼ c. sugar
1 T. salt
3 rounded T. instant yeast
1 ½ quarter-sized drops of lecithin (=1 ½ T.)(squeeze right into the flour mixture)
2 c. hot tap water (as hot as yours will go)

Add the sugar to the hot water, stir in yeast and let sit until activated. (5 min or so) Pour the lecithin right onto the flour and salt mixture (just eyeball it, don’t measure into a spoon – it’s WAY too sticky and makes a huge mess) Pour the hot water mixture in now and turn on the mixer. I use a bosch, but whatever you have will work. Mix for five minutes. While mixing, spray a little Pam on your counter and coat two bread pans well. After it’s mixed, put on the counter and separate into two loaves. Shape and put in pans, cover with a dish towel for 25 minutes. Bake at 350 for 25 minutes. Remove from pans and let cool on a cooling rack. Mmmm.

I have to tell you that for 13 years, or so, I have been trying to make a really great bread. Not even a healthy one, just really yummy. I haven’t been able to get flavor, consistency, ease or texture all from the same recipe – until now. Hope you like it. It’s all done, start to finish in less than an hour.

Here’s the chicken, enjoy!

4 med chicken breasts

2 cans cream of chicken soup

1 pt sour cream

2 Tbsp Lemon juice (we like the zing of this, so add to the taste of your family)

1 Tbsp poppy seeds (or more if you like)

Cook chicken (I boil mine in salt, pepper and garlic salt) Mix soup, sour cream, lemon juice and poppy seeds, stir in diced chicken. Pour into 9x13 pan.

Topping:1 c butter, melted1 1/2 to 2 rolls of Ritz crackers1 Tbsp poppy seeds Empty crackers into a gallon zip lock and get mad! (crush with a rolling pin :) Add melted butter and mix. Crumble over the chicken and mix, sprinkle poppy seeds on top. (My family LOVES the topping, so I put lots on. You can do more or less. Whatever your family likes.)

Bake at 350 for 30 min, til bubblie. You can eat it plain, serve over rice or angel hair pasta. (Or whatever you like!)

Rosie the Barking Pig

I once knew a pig that barked. Her name was Rosie. She was raised with dogs as a baby pig, and so she learned to bark. Really. She lived in a pasture next to Edgemont Elementary (now full of houses), and when she'd chase the horses and play - she would bark at them. Pretty amazing huh? Now you don't think 'Babe the Pig' was so amazing, do you?

*I think she might be bacon now. I never knew what became of Rosie the Barking Pig.

Meet the Johanson's

We like to name things. Well, give them nick-names. Like our 1974 Toyota Land Cruiser (may she rest in peace), we named Ruby. (Who we loved so much, we later named our daughter after. Okay, not completely, but it was a swaying factor.) At Safeway, we love to eat “chicken and jo-jo’s.” We don’t have Safeway in Utah, but we still affectionately call sliced/battered/fried potatoes, ‘jojo’s.’ I think they call them something boring, here, like “potato wedges” or something. Booor-riing. And in reference to those we love, we love the Johanson family, who we lovingly refer to as, The JoJo’s. Which brings me to the subject to this post.

An evening with the JoJo’s.

This is a family from the time in our life we call, “the glory days.” This was before life beat the heck out of us and we realized how spoiled we were back then. We lived in a ward for three years, I’ve written about this time before here, and loved every second of it. The Jojo’s lived down the street, two houses from us. They had a house full of kids, ranging from about six to sixteen. And we loved them. They spent hours at our house, and us at theirs. We were young marrieds with a house to hang out at, and they had room for us to be “family” in their lives. We were available for confiding in, and they were the constant example of fun family life.

We laughed so hard last night, my stomach hurt. Their youngest daughter was having a bridal shower, here in Utah. (The JoJo’s now live in SanAntonio, Texas) They come from a long line of great families, and are a great example of sisterhood and family.

Some of the reminiscent highlights of the evening were:

When their 15 year old, Tiff, gave her 14 year old sister, Mandi, “a countdown.” “Mandi, I’m going to count to ten and you better have this mess cleaned up! 1,2,3,…” Peter and I taught a large part of her senior year in seminary. We had so much fun with their class. She was lucky to have a close group of great friends. She married one of the boys in our ward we love and adore, too. Tiff in a word was, responsible. And a delight.
-Who doesn’t love the oldest child?

I think if I were Mandi, I would have protested dish duty after she sliced her finger open washing the mandolin blade and had to have stitches. (We called her Mandolin (Mandi Lynn) - So I found the whole ordeal quite ironic. One year at girls camp Mandi and the other JC’s stole every-last-pair of shoes at camp. They tied them all together in knots and stashed them in the amphitheatre. This was the last morning of camp, I was their leader and SO tired. I totally lost it and had a big fat fit and cried all the way home
-What a laugh! I had to apologize, again.

We also enjoyed memories of another year at camp that I snuck them out and took them to the Granger’s hot tub and went to Dairy Queen in Cle Elum. I’m so responsible, I know. That year, everywhere we went, giggling the whole time, we were stopped and asked where our “leader” was. “I’m right here.”
-Gotta love being a 22 year old camp leader. Lots of fun!

Holli, the one getting married, was about 10 or so when her hamster got stuck in his hamster wheel. We laughed over that again, I know it sounds horrible, but it really was funny. There were lots of tears, and I think in the end, he died after that. Sorry for the giggle. She also had twin dolls named Jordon and Jennifer that went everywhere with her. They had car seats, clothes collections and the like.
-I told her I hope the twins like their new daddy, Abe.

Peter and I still quote their littlest all the time. Every time Austin came over and music was on, he say, “Is this Yanni?” Could have been Iron Maiden, and Austin would ask, “Is this Yanni?”
-He was the most adorable little boy.

I still remember Nic, a teenager, having to share a bed with Austin, a little one. I loved how much they loved each other. And now I see with my boys how much they love to sleep in the same bed as well.
-Boys are wonderful.

Steph, the mom, is the greatest. She is always full of insight and fun. She’s just enough older than me, that she always has great advice and “has been there.” When she’s surprised, she practically wets her pants. We once had to blow balloons up for a dance, and every time one popped, Steph would squeal. When a bug comes near her, you will find her flailing and squealing and yipping like a dog is trying to rip her leg off. But, you’ll end up wetting your pants because it’s such a sight to see. And, last of my favorite funny things of Steph…her mouse sneeze. Again, Peter and I still joke around about this. Just last night I heard a tiny little, “ha-nhew”. Teeny, tiny, mouse like. I’m never sure to say “bless you” or “I think you just sat on a mouse.”
-Love, love, love Pinky. (Stephs nick name at our house, named after her sweet ski suit)

And last, but not least, Boyd. The dad. I had never even seen a lawn edger until I met that man. (see, in Washington your yard generally consists of weeds and moss – who needs to trim that?) But he groomed that lawn, in his dockers and penny loafers, regularly. He’s all business, where Steph is all fun. (well, not all the time for either, but they make a good team) I laughed about him setting up “the workstation” for the kids homework and what not. And him always laying down the law about “the bottom line.”
-Every house needs a Boyd. At least once in a while.

So, there you are. You’ve met the Jojo’s. Being the youngest in my family, I missed seeing a lot of the growing up action at home. By the time I was old enough to pay attention, the house was quite empty. So the Johanson’s gave me a little insight into the joys of a home filled with a growing family. So very many of the things I do with my kids, I learned from them. Like asking my kids “who did sit next to at lunch” everyday, asking detailed questions about their daily life. Or just lounging around, scratching backs and talking. Actually spending time with your kids.

I come from a great family who taught me so much. But it’s funny sometimes how it takes seeing others, to teach you certain things. This family was such a great part of our lives. I hope that I am reaching others, as they did. I hope that as I continue to learn, I am helping to teach others as well.

Sorry for the long post. But it was fun and I hope it reminded you of your dear friends and family. Give them a call, or write them a note. Tell them thank you for the influence in your life. Tell them you love them.

“Thank you Johanson Family. I love you.”

Tights. Don’t you love a good pair of tights? Me too. Nylons? Woof. Puh-lese.

Saturday night, after a long afternoon of “Cropping Because I Cared”….

(Crop Because You Care is a fundraising event for Epilepsy. My friend took me and I sat with 250 crazy scrapbookers. And I mean CRAZY. Some people only did one page in, like, eight hours. Whew. I like to get things done, you know. So in true Teresa form, I had 1200 photos printed last week. I only print and “scrap” once a year. Which really isn’t scrapping, it’s more like a journal with photos. I print, collate, separate, label, layout, tape down, journal and very simply decorate. (I do, like, 30 to their one) But with a birth, blessing, baptism, and everything in between – YIKES! It’s a lot of work. I’d say in seven hours I got a good quarter of my project done. Hey, it’s a start. Right? I don’t have time for fluff. (Plus, I’m not the biggest fan of this.) Here’s a sample of the way I “scrap.” (I know you’re just chomping at the bit to see it, haha) The girls I went with all had cute projects and were doing a lot of online scrapping as well.

….Anyyyyywho. After cropping because I was caring, we made a quick stop for “hose” for the Sabbath. (That sounds awesome, “Hose for the Sabbath.” Like a cool band or something. Or maybe not so cool.) Like I was saying…My favorite tights were on sale . HUE tights, 4.39 – reg. 12.99. My oh my. I got HUE socks, too. I really wanted printed socks for Christmas. (long story) So I got some too. 2.33 for socks? Nice.

This reminded me of the not-so-good-old-days of nude nylons. Eeeek. I think I lasted about one Sunday of my 12 year old young woman career in those. (Thank heaven for sisters, again!) Sandal toe?! Help me! With open toed shoes….what more can I say. While I am not much of a fashion-ista, okay not at all. I do know that was NEVER in style.

So there. A trip down a really ugly memory lane, and some pics of a lot of a lot of crazy women. (the four at my table, excluded – OF course.)

Oh, and by the way. Is this the coolest way to teach kids about the phases of the mooon?