Things We Say

Skywalker: (to nosurfgirl, with wicked glint in eye) You hate change?

But you voted for Obama.

Oh wait, he hasn't changed anything, so I guess that's OK.


(Scene: girls are enjoying aunt emily's gift of mary kay samples by smearing them reckleslly on their faces, then running around and asking "do I look pretty").

Jaws: Do I look pretty?

Bella: You look like a lion. But that's OK. You'll learn to do makeup as good as me someday.

Jaws: (Nodding sadly, bats enormous, raccoon-ringed eyes across room at NSG)

Squirt: She looks like a man!

Jaws: No.

Bella: She's a girl.

MayMay: She's not a man, she's a HU-man.



NSG: How do we end up with such adorable children?

Skywalker: WELL.

NSG: Nevermind.

Skywalker: It all started... with some business socks.

Pioneer Lullabye

Make an on-line slide show at www.OneTrueMedia.com

It's a sad song, but I love it.


Anyway, by way of explanation for the sudden aberration: I've realized I've kind of been a chicken in a way on this blog.

So I write, you all know that. I might do it well sometimes but I also do it poorly sometimes and I don't care who notices.

I also sing. But I'm always so dang afraid of doing it badly and having people hate it that it has kind of crippled me, sometimes. A lot of this stems from a bad experience I had a while back that I never fully recovered from. This has been my own fault. You can let trials break you or make you stronger.

Lately I've felt like Heavenly Father is telling me I need to stop being such a coward. So I've started going to ward choir again. Ever since the above mentioned bad experience, going to ward choir is so difficult for me, emotionally. I don't know why. And singing congregational hymns in church is where I choke up the most. It's almost like that whole thing where you know if you don't feel like you should pray, that's when you need to the most. It's really hard. But it's stupid, because I love to sing and most people don't mind listening to me. My voice is far from perfect, but it's something. I need to stop being ashamed of it.

SO this is my way of blasting a gigantic hole in my singing closet.

This is For You, Dave

PS: You were complaining the other day about wanting to write about politics but getting too angry... I think I've discovered the secret is, Make Fun Of Everyone.

The Book Thief

Apparently I've been inspiring people. That makes me happy. I don't usually see myself as someone who people might get a good idea from... usually I'm sort of weird and people who like me enough to associate with me just think of me as quirky and interesting, something to examine but not necessarily follow at all. So thank you, Dave, you've made my day. I know your list is different, but it makes me happy that someone else has decided to take their literacy by the horns and read stuff that might make them become who they want to be.

So. I have an explanation as to why I haven't been keeping up with classics these last couple of weeks.

I had to take a brief hiatus from my list to read my Relief Society book club book. It was The Book Thief, by Markus Zusak. Usually book club books, for me, tend to be a bit evocative and interesting. Stuff if, left up to myself, I usually wouldn't choose to read, necessarily. We have a nice intellectual bunch in our bookclub who don't (as I've heard complained about in other wards where they have RS bookclubs) stick to the things written by Sheri Dew or Elaine Cannon. They like all different kinds of stuff, and this is why I have enjoyed these ladies and the discussions so much.

Anyway, I lost it for a couple weeks before I finished it. And I'm not the kind of person who can go on to something else when I haven't finished a book... I have to finish one before I take on another. Skywalker finally found it for me, because it was due yesterday. And I finished it last night and this morning (and paid the ten-cent fine so that the nice book-club lady wouldn't have to.)

This book astounded me. It wrenched me, chewed me up, spit me out, made me cry (which is not something that happens often. Just ask Skywalker.) It is hilarious and darkly ironic and has surging moments of agony and inspiration. It touched me deeply, and the voice and writing delighted me.

I am glad that I read this book. Because I think it belongs on my list. I no longer feel guilty for my divergence.

At any rate, I want all of you to read this, and it's a fairly new book, so I'm not going to summarize the plot. I'll just say--please read it. You'll enjoy it and grow from the experience of reading it.

I give it a solid **** out of ****. There is violence, but a great deal of it is off-scene, and it is necessary violence. There is no sexuality at all. And there's really no religion in it in any real sense, so really it's still a humanist kind of message you come away with, but I found the message entirely compatible with the gospel.

stop light

Bella: Mom, when the light is yellow it means SLOW DOWN.

NSG: Thanks, Bella.

MayMay: What green light means?

Bella: Go.

Jaws: And red light means STOP!

Bella: What does orange light mean?

Loli: It means go around in circles.

NSG: (baffled, looks at Loli in the rearview mirror. Notices mischevious squinting of eyes and suppressed grin. Feels burst of happiness at her daughter's sudden manifestation of straight-faced humor.)

NSG: What does purple light mean?

Jaws: I don't know.

NSG: I think it means go up in the air.

Bella: What about a blue light?

Loli: Dig a hole.

Things We Say

(editorial note--for those of you who don't remember, Tutuchild is Loli's best friend since they were about 6 months old and often plays with my kids).



Bella: Mom, I keep hicking up.



Jaws: Mom, can we watch Ratatouille when A-B-C-D-E-F-G-H-I-J-K-L-M-N-O-P-Q-R-S-T-U-V-W-X-Y-Z-now-I-know-my-ABC's-next-time-won't-you-sing-with-me is done?



MayMay: Tutu, Do you want watch Hanontana?

Tutuchild: I ADORE Hannah Montana! She's, like, my favorite rock star!




MayMay: That's our house. (fit of giggles).

Tutu: Are you kidding me? That's church. Of ladder day saints.





Squirt: I need go pee-pee! If I get pee pee on my foot I will die!

Skywalker: You'll die?

Squirt: Yes. (lowers voice, adopts tremulous tone) and you'll be sad.

just thought you should know

I just cleaned up a fountain of squirt's throwup (like, I think literally a gallon--I watched it happen in amazement, wondering how much more could possibly come out of his tiny little stomach) that somehow conveniently covered every single inch of strap and buckle of his carseat, as well as festooning his shirtfront and pants, making it so that I would experience maximum contact with cottage-cheese-mixed-with-fruity-bits-smelling-like-old-parmesan substance when I went about the task of unbuckling and removing clothing.

And right now squirt's in a bubble bath and MayMay's wandering the house, huskily singing: "Pizza Angel, Come to Me."

The tooth fairy has forgotten, for four days running, to recompense Bella and Loli for their proffered incisors.

And that's been our Tuesday (really, Monday, when you think about it.)