Savor-ing Grace

Hallelujah! Get ready, people. I feel a sermon coming on. I have found the most liberating, delicious, satisfying kitchen product ever...Ever! If you have celiac's disease or are following a gluten-free diet, sit yourself down and then get ready to get back up and jump for joy, because what we have here will make you feel like a human again.

About three months ago, JoLayna told me about a new flour coming out that was sold at Harmon's Grocery store. It's called Grandpa's Kitchen gluten free flour and she said she couldn't even taste the difference between it and "real" cookies. This speaks volumes considering JoLayna is not gluten intolerant. That's the kind of girl she is. JoLayna will taste test gluten free food for you because she's that good of a friend.

I thought, hmm. I'll have to try it. I'll admit, I set the bar pretty low. You have to have an open mind with most gluten-free products. You either get crumbly and mealy or bland and flavorless. And then the flour finally showed up in my neighborhood Harmon's. I tried some. And can I just tell you how many things I have baked that are edible since that fateful day? Old favorites like:

Zucchini bread
Banana bread
Giada's Lemon Ricotta Cookies
Brownies
Fried Chicken

I am baking things I have not had in years. Do you know what it does to a person to withhold zucchini bread for too long? Terrible things...Next I'm trying the pizza crust. And the bread mix looks promising. If they are this close to real flour, I am finally excited about baking again. Try it! You'll love it! If I was Billy Mays I would guarantee it!

The Dodge Days of Summer

This is how I felt this morning when I got up, showered, and got ready for the day:

This is how I feel now:A tad bit worn out and a little wilted. Here's the funny thing: I have done nothing today. I would expect to feel that way after a day of painting or working in the yard or carousing the streets of Salt Lake City with my kids. But all I've done so far is sit around and watch other people work. The people who are actually working are doing this:It's amazing to think that this is all that's holding your house together. Screws, wood, and a little well-placed caulk. It makes you grateful for central air conditioning and argon gas technology.
And this is what happens to a house when the One in Charge (me) sits around all day, wandering from room to room looking at moved furniture and blank, curtainless windows:
And this is what the kitchen looks like. You're right, that's not the kitchen. But it's where all the stuff is so it doesn't get broken.

What's that? You don't know what this is? I call it an old-fashioned mess.

But in return I get these.

And these.

I guess it's worth dodging a little work to watch the wonder of professionals. It's actually worth dodging a LOT of work to have professionals do some jobs. It's true, some jobs really can't be do-it-yourselfers. All I know is, if that was me trying to put those windows in, there would be a black cloud of profanity swirling above my head and dirty little children running through my circle with matches and scissors. But thanks to these guys, there's just dirty little children running in the circle. No scissors.

And the wilted feeling? I think it's more from stuff overload. You can cram a lot of stuff into a house and even make it look cute. But once you move it around and mess it up, you're stuck with looking at all the stuff that you may be dodging. Apparently we have an entire Toys R Us store located within our walls. I'm okay with that. I'm just not okay with looking at it. But, as Scarlett says, tomorrow is another day. Fiddle-dee-dee.

Aaugh! I Can't Handle It!

Am I the only one out there who finds themselves attracted to reality tv in summer? (Of course that's hypothetical, I'm sure studio execs plan it that way) It's just there, the perfect waste of time, tv packaged as a learning experience that is really a small soap opera waiting to swallow you up in it's clutches.

A few weeks ago on Sunday I was flipping through the channels and there it was: The Next Food Network Star. Never watched before. Haven't missed since. For some reason it appeals to me, the stress, the failure, the attempts at interesting cuisine, the people who cook without looking at recipes.

The thing is, I am semi-obsessed with this show, and I've never even met another person who watches it. It has to be a big deal, right? It's got Bobby Flay, for heaven's sake. He's the money, if you ask me. Do you watch it? Do you even care? They are down to the final two, and I've gotta say, I'm really rooting for Melissa the stay at home mom who's never been to culinary school. Can you see why that speaks to me? You go, girl.

Next week, they'll choose a winner and I can relax. But I think then I'll miss my little soap opera. Oh, wait. Design Star.

Pioneering Spirit

In Utah on the 24th of July we celebrate the pioneers who settled here about 150 years ago. Usually on holidays like this I find myself at a parade or doing fireworks or at least having a barbeque to mark the occasion. But this year I am spending the day doing ordinary things and thinking more about what it takes to be a pioneer.

Really, when you say "pioneer," it doesn't mean that you have to travel a great distance in grand discomfort and eat bugs to stay alive. Actually, I think that's called "Survivor." It means you do things you haven't done before because you believe you are bigger than the fear of the unknown. I have full respect for the pioneers of old, from the Native Americans who ingeniously figured out how to survive on an entire buffalo, to the Pilgrims at Plymouth Rock who survived without any training in homesteading, to the medical and scientific pioneers of today, whose innovations have changed our lives. (Mostly I'm grateful for the iPod, but I'm sure there's more than that.)

So today, I was treating myself to viewing myself as a pioneer in my own little world. I was patting myself on the back for the things I have done even though I didn't really know how to do them. This year especially I have learned so many new skills that I had always wanted to do, but shied away from because I was afraid of failure. The simple act of trying is often success enough. For example:

This year I figured out how to run a 5K. Never been a runner. Always afraid of the pain. But I bought these beautiful, expensive, fabulous shoes and we go on adventures together now.

I've learned how to grow dahlias. Plant. Water. Repeat. It was pretty easy.

So was growing 12-foot sunflowers.

I actually grew corn that matured and produced EDIBLE ears this year. The key? Daily watering. I know, it sounds so simple. But you wouldn't believe how many days I ran outside at 8 p.m., realizing I had forgotten to water.

Making 27 jars of jam from bushes in my own yard was rewarding. And I felt a bit of pride in the fact that I paid attention to my mom all those years in the kitchen growing up. And proud that I was responsible enough for her to invite me there in the first place.

I always wondered how to cut little boy hair. This year I learned how. It's not as easy as it looks.

I've learned how to be an organized and enthusiastic Primary music chorister. It makes the calling so much less stressful. And...dare I say it? A little bit easier.

And I started a blog. For me and the three people that read it.

Although I didn't start a new community from scratch, or bury a child along the trail, or learn to cohabitate with Indians, I am a pioneer unto myself. Each new endeavor is a journey of discovery and mental strength. Each success or failure is a step along the trail. Most days I think I know where the trail is headed, sometimes I lose sight of it. Even though I didn't know how to do a lot of those things, I tried not to get caught up in the "right way of doing it" and just concentrated on doing it. And I have a lot more things I need to learn how to do but still don't know how yet. I need to learn to swim long enough to compete in a race. I need to learn how to let go of unnatural micromanaging about the decor of my house. And, as with all parents, living with a teenager is a new domain for me. Don't let the fear of the unknown keep you from discovering what it is you are truly capable of.

What things are you waiting to try but haven't yet?

Time for a Change

The other day a strange thing happened to me. I think I actually witnessed myself maturing. Normally I would never share an experience like this with the general public, but I guess getting older really lowers the dignity level with personal growth.

This is me and my sweetie back in the day. My husband has this thing with cars. He never has the same one for very long. He tends to buy really fast, impractical models that can only seat two people or are so old they can't exceed the speed limit. When this picture was taken, we had been dating two months and he had already had three different cars. Wow. But, he was single and could afford it, so no big whoop.

When we got together I was on the college-student budget. And I had two kids to provide for. So we would go to TJ Maxx or Ross, or some "frivolous" place and he would buy me clothes because I couldn't afford them. It was all sweet and nice, but really, he had no idea the hidden monster he was awakening. I love clothes. I love to buy things. I love spending money. I always feel terrible after I do, because I really believe in the power of paying cash and saving for a rainy day, but if I come across a great pair of jeans that fit, I have a hard time saying no. In fact, my friends know I have a hard time saying no to anything if I like it.

Time went on and we were so successful it didn't matter what I spent. I could buy all my kids clothes at the Gap and get pedicures every three weeks. The monster was happy. We bought a big house on the hill and I had fun furnishing it and decorating it with my unlimited budget. Then, what I like to call the great stumbling of 2008 came along. We all stumbled with the economy in shambles, we all used up our savings, we all had to read Dave Ramsey for the first time. And we had these people now. Not little wooden figures, but a large family with needs to be cared for. And it was not a bad thing. I have really enjoyed the challenge of whittling my budget, streamlining our expenses, and going back to the college-student budget. But it wasn't easy. It's easier to wake the spending monster than put him back to sleep.

Back to my maturing moment. I have had company at my house this last week and been making freezer jam out of the crops from my prolific raspberry bushes. I really needed to go to the grocery store, because I was out of so many things. It happens. Well, the lady totalled up my bill and I wanted to cry. Most of us could have made a car payment and bought a lamp afterwards with that money. And, shockingly, the spending monster was gone. In its place was the, "I'm sick about the fact that I just spent so much money at the store" monster. Usually I would get a huge high off of that experience. I'd come home, organize the food, look at my instant success, and eat some chocolate. Yesterday I slogged through the bags and bags of food and couldn't seem to make any headway. I can't stop thinking about it. I had to get online and check my bank balance to make sure we still had enough in there for next month's bills. (Don't worry: we do.) I couldn't stop thinking about school clothes for the kids and shoes and backpacks and how much more would I be able to afford if I had not bought six boxes of cereal? What has happened to me? Where is the girl who couldn't wait to go shopping? She is still there. She is just putting the spending monster to sleep.

How to Dinosaur

There are few things in life my children are experts at. One of them is to consume an entire bag of chips in one meal. Another is how to "do" the dinosaur museum.

When you see the billboard for the dinosaur museum, it says, "World's Largest Dinosaur Museum. Really." And you think, "In Utah? Are you sure?" They are right. I'm here to tell you, because I've been through it about 200 times. There are few things ALL of my children like to do as much as see our nearby Museum of Ancient Life.

The first thing you have to do is go through space. There is a walkway that is pitch black covered with little stars. Luckily now they have an escape hallway to the side so you don't have to take the scared two-year-old through it. (I have had 4 2-year-olds who have been scared of space. Maybe they should rethink that one.)

Then, you run as fast as you can through the educational exhibits and dinosaur skeletons until you get to this thing. You can only play here for a total of 5 minutes or as long as it takes for mom to catch up to you.

Then you get to the sand and water exhibit, where you can build dams and islands and watch the effects of water on earth. Or you can hoard all the play dinosaurs from the other kids. Or you can go way overboard and use every bit of sand that is on your side and make a small diorama of Lagoona Beach. You can even do this if you are 12.

I had to show this. Apparently now they have gnomes hidden throughout the exhibits. I am a gnome lover, and I hate to say it, but I didn't see a single one. Hmm, this smells of a conspiracy.

Then you come to the grand denoument of the exhibit: The mega-shark. You pretend you're going to be eaten and you think that maybe this time you might be able to take one of those teeth, but mom always sees.

Then you get to dig for dinosaur bones with a paintbrush, and according to the little boy digging by us, "You never know what you're digging up until you dig it up."

There are things you can do at the dinosaur museum that you can't do anywhere else. For example, you can carry around mom's camera case and pretend you are Indiana Jones. Then you find an awesome pith helmet at the gift shop and you magically turn into Henry Jones. You can be a kid even when you are in 8th grade, because you are far enough away from your neighborhood that none of your homies will see you having fun. Most of all, you get to be with your brothers and sisters in a place where you don't fight about anything and you outnumber the grownups. You may even become an expert on dinosaurs.

A Virtual Tour

Since we are all so "plugged in" nowadays, I had a thought about something I heard not too long ago. I loved this conference talk by Elder Gary E. Stevenson from April 2009's General Conference. In it he talks about closing your eyes and taking a virtual tour of your home.

"Imagine that you are opening your front door and walking inside your home. What do you see, and how do you feel? Is it a place of love, peace, and refuge from the world, as is the temple? Is it clean and orderly?"

This is the entryway in my home. I love that when I come into my home or visitors come through the front door we immediately see our picture of the Savior. I know it's just a drawing, but it always makes me slow down and re-prioritize whatever busy-ness I find myself caught up in.

"As you walk through the rooms of your home, do you see uplifting images which include appropriate pictures of the temple and the Savior?"

I have already talked about the importance of a family picture wall here, and I know all of our artwork can't be family photos, but ones like these just make me happy. And in our front room we have two of my favorite paintings.

My husband and I both love Arnold Friberg. We have one of these,

which I think almost everybody in America has at least some form of in their home, and one of these, which is a little-known painting by Friberg of LDS missionaries in Denmark in the 1860s. My kids always ask me what this painting is about. We have good talks about it.

And I don't know if these are uplifting or not, but they are cool. These are old calendars that Friberg painted for the Northwest Paper Company in the 60s. We have a huge game room that was in desperate need of huge posters. They are really beautiful. And more evidence of our fascination with Friberg.

And you can never have too many Vermeers in your house. Never! (If anyone cares, I cut this out of a book and stuck it onto the tacky paper that comes with a clearance frame with no glass. Instant elegance!)

"Is your bedroom or sleeping area a place for personal prayer?" I have to say I love my room. And I have had a personal goal to read the scriptures every night before I go to bed. I'm doing pretty good so far. I've only missed a few days this year,which is unheard of for me. See, they're right there on my nightstand.

"Is your gathering area or kitchen a place where food is prepared and enjoyed together, allowing uplifting conversation and family time?"

Although my kitchen is not necessarily my favorite place in my house because of it's clunkiness, I have done my best to make it clean, bright and inviting. I know my children and I will remember the times we spent with them sitting at the bar talking to me while I fixed dinner or did some other domestic ritual. This is where we have family home evening, do our homework, make Crayola masterpieces, and have baking adventures.

"Are scriptures found in a room where the family can study, pray, and learn together? Can you find your personal gospel study space? Does the music you hear or the entertainment you see, online or otherwise, offend the Spirit? Is the conversation uplifting and without contention?"

I am hoping all of you have a spot like this in your house. I think if you don't have a junky area out there where people can see it, you seem a bit odd. Also, I think we need to work on our contention level here. (Wyatt, that means you. Being second player on XBox is not cause to hit your brother.)

Perhaps you, as I, found a few spots that need some “home improvement”—hopefully not an “extreme home makeover.”

So, back to my original thought. I know, I know. This is a big wind-up. Elder Stevenson calls this a virtual tour. I thought the play on words was interesting. We should walk through our homes looking for virtue, which I define as something lovely, of good report, or praiseworthy. There are so many things in my house that I feel need repairing or replacing, but I simply don't have the budget to change them. My vainglorious hausfrau self really, really, really wants these things to be perfect. But I think that defeats the purpose of having a virtuous FAMILY home. Without the people and the messes and the quirks, homes are just houses. And houses are no fun. But home is where the dreams come alive and hope springs eternal, and you can always find a friend. At least that's what the kids say.

Of Grandmas and Ostriches

This is a picture of my 12-year-old daughter. She has an unnatural obsession with ostriches. I asked her why one day, and she said, "Because, Mom, an ostrich is a bird that can't fly!" I'll agree that ostriches are quite the natural oxymoron, but I still don't get it. So when my daughter decided to do a Young Women's project involving an ostrich blanket, I rolled my eyes and muttered, "Why don't you do a practical blanket, like one you could use for the natural disaster we are always preparing for?" But it would not do.

Enter Grandma. As soon as my daughter said she wanted to do an ostrich blanket and could Grandma please help her, the wheels started turning. Grandma said, "Well, we'll need some brown fabric and some clip art." Not, "Why the heck would you want to waste perfectly good fabric on an ostrich blanket?" Not, "Why don't we find another pattern, dear." She was instantly accepting of the need to do an ostrich blanket.

That is the beauty of Grandma. She gives children the chance to explore their dreams within safe parameters. She never belittles them for their odd interests, and, in fact, encourages them. Doing something with Grandma is like a child's dream come true. Not only is she generous and available, she is kind and thoughtful. You may think all Grandmas are this way. You may be thinking, well, my grandma loved me just as much as yours does. Well, I can't argue with that. But ask your Grandma to help you with an ostrich blanket and see what she says. This is the true litmus test of love.

How Time Flies

Once upon a time, long, long ago in a neighborhood far, far away, there lived a little girl who had a huge crush on Jonny Nelson. They went to school for six long years, and the little girl pined away for the boy who always sat behind her in the classes they had together. (Her last name was M, his last name as N) Eventually, she got over it and decided they could be friends. She was ok with it. But she always secretly carried a torch for that boy.

The girl and the boy both grew up. They became successful individuals. They both married true loves. And then, the stars aligned and they were able to eat lunch together 18 long years after the last time they talked, before the boy flew away on a plane and was gone for a long, long time.

The girl was very nervous to see the boy again. She thought too much time had passed. He wouldn't want to be her friend anymore. He would laugh at her ridiculous attempt to parent all the children she dragged around with her. She practiced in her mind all the witty stories and things she could say to impress him and his sweet, wonderful new wife. But then, they saw each other, and the time warp started, and all the worries were gone. We chatted about the curve balls we've had in life, jobs, children, and life in the mountains. We chased children and ate pizza, we tricked the little kids with decapitated fingers and pretended no time had passed at all. Before I knew it the day was gone and we had to leave. The girl now had two friends, the boy and his fabulous and talented wife, who freely hugs and loves strangers like they were her own long lost chums. The boy and his wife are such delightful people. The girl realized she had picked a good friend. It was a lovely day. The end.

25 Things I Love About Jeff

So, everyone has probably heard of the "25 Random Things About Me" note that is traveling through Facebook. As I was reading through my friends Jon and McCall's blog the other day, I noticed they did these about each other. So clever, I thought, and moved on to the next harried thought in my brain. But then, I thought I should probably do that for my husband because chances are, you've heard me express my frustration with him in the past. However, I want you all to know I adore my husband. Even more than my darling, precious children. So Jeffie, this one's for you.

1. He is superbly gifted in the art of selling. So he always gets his way at home.
2. He is terribly handsome. I always enjoy having a good look at him.
3. We make cute blond, blue-eyed babies. Hence, we call ourselves the Aryan nation.
4. He is supremely confident. Whenever I ask him if he knows how to fix something or can do something requiring skill, he goes, "pssshhh" and says, "Of course I can fix that."
5. He is a fantastic driver. In his own words, "I can drive anything that wears hair."
6. He almost always eats what I make for dinner.
7. He loves our kids. A lot. He's the fun one everyone wants to hang around with and have him powerbomb them onto the couch.
8. He can jump super high on the tramp.
9. He appreciates history and antiques. Nothing old is trash to him.
10. He takes grand care of the vehicles we drive. He even knows how to fix them most of the time.
11. He puts people at ease. People get around Jeff and they start telling him things they haven't even told their bishop yet because they are so relaxed and comfortable. This comes in handy when you are married to a high-strung wife.
12. He always makes me laugh. Even when I'm mad and grumpy, he can always get me to smile.
13. He reads the Book of Mormon every single night.
14. He is tall and can reach the top shelf or the light bulbs anytime. Also comes in handy when your wife is shrimpy.
15. He is strong. I've tried to take him in wrestling, but he always wins.
16. Every time he gets his picture taken, he either makes a serial killer face or a totally goofy one. It's even on his drivers' license. (He chose serial killer that day.)
17. He was brave enough to marry me in the temple. Forever.
18. He loves dogs and babies.
19. He loves music and I love to listen to him play the guitar. If you give him enough time, he can play pretty much any song.
20. He's "The Sharp Dressed Man." He irons his clothes, he combs his hair, he wears cologne, and he takes pride in how he looks.
21. He doesn't have to shave every day.
22. He's a softie and cries real tears every time we watch "Ice Age" and the baby walks to the dad.
23. He has a studly, and accurate, three-point basketball shot.
24. He can kick your butt in golf every day of the week.
25. He's my best friend.

I could go on forever. Love you, babe!

The Past is Always There

This is one of my favorite things I have done in my house. This is our family photo wall. I've seen other variations on this same idea, different size frames that are all the same color, pictures in a straight line, pictures of generations of the same family all in the same frame. You probably have a wall like this somewhere in your own house. And if you don't, well, you should know by now I'm going to tell you why you need one.

My kids love that they are famous enough to have "made it" to the wall. Their favorite thing is looking at who they were when they are babies compared to how big they are now. I love that we have old pictures mixed with new ones. I love that our ancestors are the people we compare ourselves to here. My children love to come up and look at their pictures and see if they look like anyone in the family when they were little. We have some priceless moments captured on our wall. My mom and me playing at the beach. Jeff's dad on a horse at age 3. Abby and Emma's first portrait together. Our Grandpas who served in the military. My great greats who immigrated to America and made the best life they could out of nothing. It seems like the most important parts of life are represented. Serve your country. Have a happy childhood. Live a good life and make it to old age. And most of all, stick together.

How to Make Awesome Oatmeal

My friend Morry has a fabulous foodie blog called Fare to Remember. You can click on the right side and go right to it. This is not like Morry's blog. She is technically adept, a great photographer, and she knows her ingredients. I am more of a, well, homey cook. I guess you could say I'm great at comfort food. Not Paula Deen, mind you, but if you want home cookin', I'm your gal.

So when I was growing up my dad would always get up at 6:45 and make me breakfast before I went to school. EVERY DAY. Why did my mom not do it, you ask? Because she was busy getting ready for work and she drove my lazy butt to school on her way to work every day. And my mom was smart enough to know that I was way old enough to get myself my own breakfast. (I think my five-year-old does that now, come to think of it.) But my dad was a softie and he would ask me what I wanted and make it right there, like a short order cook. My favorite thing he would make for me was oatmeal. When I got older, I tried and failed many times to make it "just like dad did." So I finally asked him how he did it and he grudgingly gave up his special secret. This is super top secret, folks. So consider yourselves lucky that I am sharing this with you.

First tip: Always use old-fashioned oats. In my opinion, quick oats are only good for putting in the blender and adding to your oatmeal cookie recipe. Boil your water and add the oats, just like the normal people do. Reduce heat to medium. Then, at the last minute of cooking, add 1/4 to 1/2 cup of dry oats into your cooked oats. Cook them for that last minute and serve up hot. The dry oats give a little more texture and oomph to your oatmeal. I also add a little bit of salt with my sugar and milk. It gives it a fuller taste. Recently I've taken to adding a scoop of peanut butter to my oatmeal and stirring it in. It's scrumptious and you get extra protein. Now go cook yourselves up a healthy breakfast and don't forget the adage: If you give a man a fish, you feed him for a day. But if you cook him breakfast all through high school, he gets better grades.

I Love a Parade

The reason for all holidays is children, don't you think? I mean, if grown-ups were in charge of the world, we'd have half a day off to organize our e-mail addresses and de-bug our gadgetry once every three months and call it good. Without children, we'd never stop to smell the food cook, or listen to the crazy dogs bark, or examine any bugs on the sidewalk. And we'd certainly never have a parade.

I grew up in a little town in Northern Davis County called Centerville. You can't get much more middle-class America than that. Centerville's claim to fame is it's annual 4th of July parade and carnival. I have been going to this parade since I was 6 years old and amazingly look forward to it every year. This parade has it all:

floats,

candy thrown at you from said floats,

clowns,

firetrucks,

horses,

and jets from the Air Force Base that do a flyover every year. My dad and I cry every time the jets go by. One time I asked him why he gets so choked up and he said, "It's just because they're there. They're there to protect us. Just knowing that makes me so grateful for those pilots." I hope our kids feel the same way about us when they grow up. They'll wonder, "Why did mom and dad get up so early on a sleep in day and drive us for 35 minutes to sit in the heat and watch the same parade over and over again every year?" And I hope they answer with, "Because they were there. They cared about us and wanted to make sure we knew what was important." Maybe they'll get choked up and realize that we did things that were purely for them. And they'll remember and be grateful for their parent/pilots, who needed an escape from the drudgery and stress of life and were grateful they had children, because there was an excuse to miss work and watch a parade. Because you get more from a parade than sweaty brows and hoarse voices. You get togetherness, as a family and as a community. And you get the candy.