Uncategorized

Recently Jessica wrote that her Parenting Magazines were talking to her. The same sort of thing has been happening with my Palm.

Tonight I was using the calculator when the thing freaked out, turned black and asked me if I wanted to erase all data. Hmmm….let me think about that. My entire life plan is contained on that little piece of equipment and if all data were erased, I’d most likely disappear in a puff of smoke or crumple to the ground like the wicked witch, “I’m melting. I’m melting.”

“No thank you,” I replied.

My data was not lost but I had to reset all my preferences and when I went back to the calculator, it had the number 666 on the screen. Do do Do do Do do Do do. Freaky, eh?

A more uplifting message came during my anxiety-ridden weeks shortly after Magoo was born. During that time I became super, uber religioso, hoping to pray my way out of a chemical imbalance. I’d downloaded my scriptures and hymn lyrics to my palm and was reading them one day when my Palm lost its mind.

After resetting and recovering the little computer, I reopened the scripture program and it had skipped from the scripture I was reading to this hymn:

The Lord Is My Shepherd
1. The Lord is my Shepherd; no want shall I know.
I feed in green pastures; safe-folded I rest.
He leadeth my soul where the still waters flow,
Restores me when wand’ring, redeems when oppressed,
Restores me when wand’ring, redeems when oppressed.

2. Thru the valley and shadow of death though I stray,
Since thou art my Guardian, no evil I fear.
Thy rod shall defend me, thy staff be my stay.
No harm can befall with my Comforter near.
No harm can befall with my Comforter near.

3. In the midst of affliction my table is spread.
With blessings unmeasured my cup runneth o’er.
With perfume and oil thou anointest my head.
Oh, what shall I ask of thy providence more?
Oh, what shall I ask of thy providence more?
Text: James Montgomery, 1771—1854; based on Psalm 23

These words brought me a lot of comfort when I really needed it. Maybe the spirit controlling my Palm is a good one afterall.

The first story seemed more creep-propriate for Halloween, though. Happy Halloween everybody!

Cause it’s inspirational quote day on Daring Young Mom and this one’s definitely worthy of inscription on a table runner or pilla’ of some sort.

Take a minute, bust a prayer and you good to go.
~M.C. Hammer~

Surcie has inspired me to talk about what the heck our kids are subjected to on the radio lately. I personally think it’s quite precious that Laylee (Little-C) says “Bob Marley is my favorite mutsic.” I especially like it when she quotes him in casual dinner conversation.

“Mommy, stand up for your rights.”
“Okay, I will.”
More seriously now, “Don’t give up the fight.”
“Okay.”

She’s not quite old enough to ask about drug use or civil unrest and uprising. We’ll have to grow into that one.

She is REALLY good at picking up on lyrics and lately she’s started singing along with Lenny Kravitz, Raffi, John Mayer and Green Day, anybody that comes on the radio and asking me what they’re talking about.

As much as I love the Kravitz, I don’t want my kid singing or saying the F-bomb.

Raffi is excellent. “Robin in the rain, what a saucy fellow.”
“Mom, what is saucy?” I’m totally on it.

We love the John but I don’t think “Your Body is a Wonderland” is something I want to explain.

Green Day? I’ve listened to them on the radio since junior high but I pretty much want to steer clear.
“What did he just say?”
“Oh, they bleeped that word out. That’s why it sounded funny”
“What word?”
“Let’s listen to Raffi again.”

Lately we’ve been listening mostly to church primary songs in the car. She begs for the Apricot Corn Song — Popcorn Popping on the Apricot Tree. I was a bit confused when she asked me to please do the “Asians” while we were listening to it this week. (Mother as mind-reader strikes again — she wanted the Actions!)

Yes, that’s right. I am willing to take one for the team and obscond with your exquisite bedroom set. You know, the extra one you ordered from Pottery Barn “just in case” and now have no idea what to do with?

We’re still in the free furniture stage of our marriage. I’m not really sure if we’ll ever exit this stage as long as our friends continue to be so generous. We are sort of the babies on the block and have awesome friends who’d rather share their belongings than sell them when they upgrade.

We don’t yet have the money to buy the pieces we REALLY want and we don’t want to waste money buying half-steps, so we just go for free, and a lot of this free stuff IS what we really want. We’ve scored bigtime!

Oak dining table and chairs — The Matsonites
Bookshelves, end tables, dresser, reclining rocker, file cabinet and piano — Dan’s parents
Office furniture, side table, chest of drawers — Hi and Ri
Dresser, crib, bookshelf, our mattress and box spring (from wedding budget), handmade hope chest — my parents
Toddler bed — J.K. not Rowlings
Changing table — Leese
Armoire for children’s books — Target gift cards from our wedding
First free couch — Jules
Upgraded free couch (sorry Jules) — Dan’s work classified adds
Entertainment armoire and TV — Jud Ed

Now don’t be hatin’! We’ve actually purchased a few things here and there, several bookcases, storage armoires, old furniture we’ve refurbished, slipcovers, etc.

One thing no one has found it in their hearts to give us is a bedroom set or a headboard, which brings me to a point — Friday Show and Tell.Here’s my bed — with a few “embellishments” courtesy of my kindergarten-level abilities with Paint:

I would like to mention that our beautiful quilt was also a wedding present. Sadly patriots, you will not find another star or stripe of any kind scattered throughout our room, not for lack of free gifts but because I don’t want to sleep in the Fourth of July (you know, fireworks and all).

If you’d like to see any improvements to this lovely picture, please send bedroom set — STAT!

I have no scientific or genealogical evidence to prove this theory but I do have a strong feeling that my stomach originated in the country of India. When I was pregnant with Laylee, the only food I enjoyed and could consistently keep down was Indian food from my favorite restauraunt.

I would like to stop at this juncture and give a shout out to the Bombay House Indian restaurant on University Ave in Provo, UT. Can I get a “Whoop, whoop!”? I do not think I can over-emphasize their role in my healthy pregnancy.

When we moved to Washingtonia, I greatly mourned the loss of this fabulous eatery. Then Real Simple got several hundred chefs from around the US to vote on the best cookbooks representing the foods from various countries. I rushed to the library and got the one they suggested for Indian Cooking. After a couple of weeks of dining ecstacy, I purchased the book and have loved everything I’ve made from it.

Jessica, in answer to your question:

“I love indian food but can only find really lousy recipes. Do you have any good ones?”

I have two words for you — Madhur Jaffrey. Everything in this book is absolutely fabulous. The Rogan Josh is our favorite, served with Aromatic Yellow Rice and Gujerati-style carrots and cabbage. One little hint: fresh green coriander = cilantro. That took me weeks to figure out. None of the grocery stores around had ever heard of it and she uses it in a lot of her recipes. I finally found a produce guy at an upscale store who looked at me like I was a moron and said, “It’s right over there….cilantro.”

Laylee: Where’s Cinderella’s mommy?
Me: She had to go away with Bambi’s mommy.

(strangely enough, Laylee likes the part of Bambi where the mom gets offed. She says, “Oh, now’s when Bambi’s mommy has to go away so he gets to play with his daddy cause he came home from WORK!”)

Whilst wandering through the isles of Halloween treats this week, I spotted the perfect accessory for my shmoop, a sweet black-haired mullet wig. Yes folks, that’s right and since the wonderful holiday is only days away, it was 30% off. 30% off of what, you may ask. But that doesn’t matter because it was on sale.

So right next to the frozen edamame in my cart goes the mullet (I actually don’t think it fell anywhere near the edamame since I hadn’t picked that up yet, but I’m trying to sound healthy, vegetarianish and chic. Is it working?)

When I told Danny about said mullet, he asked, “What am I supposed to be?”

“Why, a mullet of course.”

“What are you going to be for Halloween this year, Dan?” his programmer friends will ask him with giddy girlish excitement.

“A mullet.”

Iiiiiiiiii don’t know why that conversation seems so funny in my mind, but there you are. I once promised a group of his co-workers that I would bake for them every week for a year if any of them would grow a long, sweet mullet for me. Imagine my shock when they all refused. I am somewhat of a celebrity amongst the boys, most of whom are single and not accustomed to baking anything without the help of a doughboy.

Anyway, we decided to kick things up a notch and have him go as a mullet-wearing hockey player. I went as a Texas high school home-coming queen, really just an excuse to wear my massive mum (not seen in this picture). I had to remove the mum halfway through the party due to its massive size and weight. Then I just looked like a sparkly person with way too much makeup on. Laylee was a fab ghost and Magoo was a huge hit in his sumo suit.

And we may just call that a wrap on the Daring Young Family Halloween. Everyone backed their cars into the church parking lot and Laylee got to “Trunk-or-Treat” for more candy than she’ll ever be allowed to eat. For all she knows, tonight WAS Halloween. I may not dress them up again on Monday, except of course Dan who MUST WEAR THE MULLET to work.

Oh, and right before we left for the party, Laylee informed me that she no longer wanted to be a ghost. “I want to be an alligator like Ducky!”

So I gave her the same response she gets when she asks for something without saying please.

“Mommy, I want some juice.”

“That’s interesting.”

All modesty shoved under the sofa, I think I’m a pretty great cook. However I don’t usually have the slightest desire to cook first thing in the morning. So, Laylee is addicted to cold cereal, scrambled eggs and toaster waffles.

This morning after my early walk with Sandra, I decided to fully take on my role as domestic goddess and make some whole-wheat pancakes from scratch. I’ve made this recipe approximately 4 billion times (usually for dinner). I ALWAYS burn the last pan.

Well this morning I burned every single stinkin’ heart-healthy made-from-scratch why-did-I-do-this pancake. Little black hockey pucks all. I guess black is a fitting color for a hockey puck and I’m Canadian, I should know. I sort of freaked out. Laylee’s response to all the turmoil?

“When the pancakes are burnt and yucky for you, I would eat them all for you.”

And she did. I ate one too. With LOTS of peanut butter and Mrs. Butterworth’s. I’m not sure if it’s smart to eat two things that have “butter” in the title at the same time, but it hid the charcoal-ish-ness of the pucks…….sort of.

Random side-note — I just asked Laylee what Ducky is gonna be for Halloween (I hope it’s okay that I use his real name here. There are no small stuffed duck stalkers out there, right?). She got a huge grin and said, “He wants an alligator costume cause I’m making it for him toDAY so he can go trick-or-treating with me toDAY because I’m making him an alligator costume so he can get some candy and I will share my candy with HIM!”

(This was said very quickly, but I think my transcription is fairly accurate.)

The other day after I fed Magoo, Dan was trying to burp him. After quite a bit of pounding, Magoo let out a small “Urp” and smiled at Dan as if to say, “I’m done.”

Dan would have none of that.

“Come on Magoo, you can do better than that. That was just a courtesy burp.”

Okay. These people are driving me nuts. Since we bought our home, we’ve been inundated with telemarketing calls, especially those asking us to refinance our home. These started maybe 2 weeks after we signed our original mortgage. Sheesh!

We also get a ton of calls for home security systems, calls to thank us for past donations we’ve never made and ask for future donations to all kinds of causes, calls telling us we’ve “won,” you name it.

I’ve put our number on the National Do Not Call List but this does not stop people calling for “charitable donations,” if we “have a prior business relationship” with them or basically if they are in any way associated with any organization with whom whence and therefore we have done business with at one time in regards to the aforementioned………AHHHHHHHH!

So, I’m asking for your ideas on how to stop them – or at least drive them nuts. I have two suggestions:

1. Dan found a marvelous little device called THE TELECRAPPER 2000 TELEMARKETER INTERCEPTION SYSTEM. It is “a computerized system designed to intercept incoming Telemarketing calls on the first ring, and then carry on a virtual conversation with the telemarketer.”
If you go to their site and click on “example conversations” you can hear the machine carrying on long and laugh-until-you-cry-funny conversations with unsuspecting telemarketers. We do not have the device as it is not exactly “market ready.” However, it’s definitely worth a listen.

2. Refinance your home. That’s right folks. Now that we’ve been out of college for more than 10 minutes and are “land holders”, we can get a much better rate on a real home loan from a reputable lender. So now when they call we say, “What a great idea! We’re doing that right now. Can you please take us off your calling list?”

What have you got for me? I’m sure you can do better than this. I dare you.