Merry Christmas, the Ash Connection way

I didn't want to seem like such a scrooge after that last post, so I want to now sincerely wish you all a very merry Christmas by giving you the best e-gift I could think of — another double dose of Annacdotes. Thanks for humoring me (if, in fact, you humored me . . . instead of vowing to never read these again). 

Happy Holidays, everyone.

1. On the way home from church, Anna showed us a CTR sticker she got in Primary. When my sister asked if she knew what CTR means, Anna said, "Yeah! Choose the right." She paused and then said, "But I've been wondering . . . does that mean the right side of the body or the right things?" We laughed and then my sister asked, "What do you think?" Anna said, "The right side of my body."

(Later, when Anna wasn't around, we joked about how it would be if kids were taught that at church. "Don't ever use your left hand! Choose the right!")

2. I had to do a little maneuvering to get the car out of the driveway the other day, as someone was parked behind me, and Anna narrated our every move. "Okay, we're turning . . . now we're backin' up . . . and now we're frontin' up." Loved it.

3. 'Tis the season for night terrors, apparently. I guess they're pretty common around this age, but knowing that doesn't make the spontaneous screams much more bearable. I honestly have never heard Anna scream that way before, when she's conscious, with that much . . . terror, for lack of a better word. It's unnerving. On occasion, Anna will have a night terror and scream bloody murder, and there's pretty much no way I can actually wake her up and get her out of it. Talking to her, touching her, turning the lights on—nothing works. She's just so out of it. I usually just try to hug and comfort and sing a few songs and then she'll eventually quiet down after a couple minutes and keep on sleeping.

But with that said, I did have to smile the other night when I went into her room after hearing her yell. It seemed to be a more mild nightmare, because she was mostly just restless and grunting here and there with a grimace on her face. I noticed she had completely deblanketed herself, so when she started to calm down a little, I tried to put the blankets back on. With unconscious exasperation, she flung them off again. More grunts and grimaces. We went through this a couple of times until I finally won the blanket battle. But even as she settled in with her blankets on, she directed an especially mean grimace my way and stuck her tongue out at me. In her sleep. With her eyes still closed. It's so nice to know her attitude runs deep.

4. Another prayer excerpt: "We're thankful for our food and for whoever makes it. No matter what. Even if it's 'sparagus.'"


5. My mom was telling me and Anna the other morning about a funny dream she had that involved her two parents, who are now deceased. Anna got quite thoughtful and said, "Aw, it must have been good to see them." As we sat down to breakfast, Anna said the prayer and prayed for blessings on Grandma and Grandpa's parents. She said, "We hope they're doing well . . . up there . . . with you guys."

This is how Anna wanted to set up a shot. I happen to love it.

6. Anna was singing a song she was making up as she went along. She started to sing about being obedient and how "when Mom uses her strong voice, it doesn't mean she's being mean..." (Can you imagine this in a sing-song voice?) At this point, I said, "Hey! What are you doing singing about my strong voice?" And she said, "Mom, I'm just trying to improve my singing."

Oh. I see.

7. We had our primary program in church a while ago. On our way home, I was asking Anna about it and she vehemently said, "I'm NEVER going to THAT again!" I laughed and asked her why and she said that all the singing made her throat hurt. I tried to tell her that it was for a good cause and that they only do it once a year, but she still insisted. Never again.

Holiday side note: I also took her to see The Nutcracker, which she LOVED, but she said something similar about it. She said she was glad she wasn't one of the dancers because she would have been so tired after all of that dancing. Geez, lazy bones.

8. The other day, while sitting calmly at the table, Anna turned to my sister Stephanie and said, "Maybe today is the day Jen will turn into a goblin." (Jen is my other sister.) We got a good laugh out of that bit of randomness. And, as it turns out, that wasn't the day.

9. Things Anna's been saying lately:

In a fit of frustration: "Aw, drats!"
As a halfhearted whine: "Aw, Ma!"

When I find her after she's been hiding: "How did you recognize me?" or "How did you reveal my secret?"

10. I was showing Anna some old black and white pictures of my dad and his family when he was young. She said, "Where do they live? Kansas?" I said, "No, they lived in Idaho." I wondered why the heck she was thinking about Kansas and it took me a minute before I realized that she recently watched The Wizard of Oz, where everything in Kansas is black and white. I love her brain.

Christmas music from hell: an oxymoron?

I popped in some old Christmas music while I was driving the other day and, after I sang along with the HIGHEST version of Silent Night known to man, on came The 12 Days of Christmas. {Gag.}

It is a truth universally acknowledged that this is the worst Christmas song ever.* (Okay, so it might be tied with "Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer." But where the latter wins for tackiness, the former wins for monotonous repetition, in addition to being totally archaic.) So I knew it was going to be bad, but then I realized it was an instrumental version. Uh, come again? The changing words are the ONLY thing the world's longest and most repetitive Christmas song has going for it. I didn't think it could get any worse.

But then—but then!—I realized that it was an instrumental version by a BRASS ENSEMBLE. Only brass! I almost couldn't believe it. Different-sounding instruments are pretty much the ONLY thing instrumental versions of this blasted song have going for them, and, as I just said, that's not much. This song had little to offer in the first place, so with all that stripped away, the brass version made me want to hurl. I realized I was listening to 12 verses of pain and I couldn't stand it any longer, so I skipped to the next song. But not before I said out loud to myself, "Really? A brass version? Not the best idea, folks."

*There is one version that I can stand and maybe even like. The MoTab did an arrangement on the album "This is Christmas," where each day of Christmas is in a style from a different musical period, from Gregorian chant to John Philip Sousa. So it's kind of clever and varied enough to not make you want to poke yourself in the eye AND it's educational. Just like my Jane Austen reference up there.


And, okay. Make that two versions I can stand. Anna learned The 12 Days of Halloween in her preschool class in October, and that was just plain adorable. I can still hear her now: "And a vulture in a dead tree...yuck!" I'd even listen to this version in December.

Cookie Day 2010

Cookie Day has been a December tradition of ours for the past few years. My sister Stephanie and I instituted it as an excuse to make fancy holiday cookies and candy that we normally wouldn't make. We do it all on one day and blast Christmas music while we're baking, and it's good times. Sometimes we give the treats away, sometimes we keep some for ourselves.

Here are the results this year:

You can click on the photo to zoom in. And you can see three different reflections of me taking the picture. Merry Christmas to you.

And we have...

an Andes Mint cookie (the mint is melted inside—super delish)

Black Raspberry and Apricot Rugelach, respectively (a serbian/Jewish pastry that is completely addicting)

Raspberry Chocolate French Macaroon

Chocolate-dipped Coconut Macaroon

Pecan Goody Cup

Peanut Butter Truffle

and a homemade caramel

Does the fact that they're on a silver platter make them seem fancier? I thought so.

Here's a side view so you can get a better look.

And they're in a different order, but whatever you do, don't get confused.

So are you insanely jealous? Jealous that you haven't gained 5 pounds this week? I thought so.

Christmas Cheer & Christmas Guilt — A Sampler

CHRISTMAS FUN
The Christmas season has already been super fun this year, and I'm glad it's not over yet. Anna's first coherent Christmas was last year, I guess, so this year is extra (you could even say "super") fun in that she remembers last year and knows what to be excited for. Plus, kids = Christmas fun, I say. We've already done it up right with several batches of cookies, ornament making, Christmas card making, stories by the Christmas tree, daily trips to the advent calendar, and present making—all to the tune of lots of Christmas music.

THE S.C.
And it seems like almost everyone (every parent, at least) has their own beef or belief about the Santa Claus issue. I've never felt super strongly about promoting his story as a parent, mostly because I don't ever remember believing in him. (I think this is due to the fact that I had seven older siblings.) So I knew I'd never be Santa crazy, but I still think there's some fun in his story. I do try to downplay his involvement (Santa will be bringing Anna one present this year, for instance, and all the rest of us will get the credit for the other presents), we honestly don't talk about him all that much, and I don't use him as a threat to get good behavior. But he provides a little more magic for the season. Best of all, I think he's a great metaphor for the real reason for Christmas, the one who really gives gifts to all the world.

CHRISTMASES OF YORE

In trying to create some Christmas fun for Anna, I've thought a lot about what made my childhood Christmases so special and what I would like Anna's to be like. The Christmases I remember the most are the ones where we did some service as a family, like shopping for, wrapping, and delivering presents and Christmas dinner for a nearby family in need. That particular memory is so vivid and it was probably 20-ish years ago. My parents were pretty great at creating these opportunities for us to serve.

...AND BRING ON THE CHRISTMAS GUILT

And, to be honest, I still remember the Christmas where I went to my mom and complained that I didn't feel like I had gotten very many presents (I'm pretty sure this was just after I had opened a ton, including a green unicorn sweatshirt). What a brat. I'm so ashamed. But back to all the warmhearted service...

So I wanted to start a tradition like this with Anna this year. Some people in my neighborhood were organizing a service project where we could buy a toy and a hat and gloves for a Navajo child, so I signed us up and took Anna shopping. I don't think she really understood what I told her about some people not being able to afford certain things, but when I told her we were shopping for a 3-year-old girl, she got excited that that was almost just like her. (Small steps, small steps.) She eagerly ran around the toy department, looking for things she thought this little girl would love, and helped me wrap the presents and make them pretty so the little girl would like them. And Anna did understand the part about how we have so many blessings and that we can afford to help someone who needs it because that's what Jesus would do and what he wants us to do.

After we delivered the presents, I'll sheepishly admit that I was proud of myself for doing some service, no matter how small, and that I had provided this experience for Anna. I started to think about how Christmas is such a wonderful time of year, when people really reach out and give to others, when I stopped in my tracks. Why am I only doing this now? Why do I have to wait for December to roll around before I turn on the kindness and giving? That's so hypocritical.

AND A LITTLE MORE CHEER

So I felt guilty. But I assuaged these feelings by thinking that, if nothing else, at least people are reminded to love and take care of each other for a whole month out of the year. 30+ days of that isn't too bad. And hopefully, it's just a jump start to changing our attitudes toward each other and not a fleeting, once-a-year charity drive. Here's to that and a merry Christmas.

It really can be summertime all year long

So I recently read the book Their Eyes Were Watching God. It was pretty great, I must say. I read some short stories by Zora Neale Hurston in high school and college and really liked her writing—and I'm pretty sure I wrote at least one paper about her, although I don't remember what it was about—but I had never read one of her novels until now. It was an engaging story and thoughtfully written. It went onto my list of favorites (which, to be honest, is undeniably pretty long).

But anywho, that's not really what this post is about. I wrote down two quotes I really liked from the book and wanted to share.

The first is a little bit of fun:

"It happened over one of those dinners that chasten all women sometimes. They plan and they fix and they do, and then some kitchen-dwelling fiend slips a scorchy, soggy, tasteless mess into their pots and pans."

Isn't that the truth? Has this happened to you? It's happened to me.

And the next quote offers more explanation for the reasoning behind Anna's middle name. I loved it. This is the main character explaining why she loves her husband.

"He kin take most any lil thing and make summertime out of it when times is dull. Then we lives offa dat happiness he made till some mo' happiness come along."

I also think that this quote totally applies to Anna's personality, so props to her parents for coming up with such an appropriate middle name. I mean, you can tell from only this picture that I'm telling the truth, right?

(And let's talk about where my photography skills came from—out of nowhere, I tell you. My skills are usually nothing to write home about, but this picture is almost magical. Her delightfulness was captured so well, I think.)

Okay, enough patting myself on the back for having a cute kid and one good picture to speak of. I'll be done now. For today.

Birthday retrospective

I've always found birthday posts a little bit awkward. I've felt funny posting much of anything because I didn't want it to come across as an ode to myself, but it has also felt weird to not mention my birthday at all. So here's my attempt to reconcile these awkward feelings. I decided to post some pictures from birthdays past for your viewing pleasure (most of them belong on Awkward Family Photos anyway) because who doesn't like looking at pictures, especially old ones from the 80s and 90s? That's right, no one. So let's begin.

Ah, year one. This is one of the photos that turned out so dark that my mom took other pictures of me eating watermelon another day and that's what is displayed on our "first birthday" wall of photos at my house. I'm still pretty cute, no matter what I'm eating.

Love the candles in this one. My two-year-old self doesn't seem to mind a bit that they're tearing my cake apart and will soon fall over and burn the house down.

I'm not sure why they're wishing me a happy "Biorthday". . .

. . . but I'm pretty sure I had cut my own bangs at this point.

My brother's caption on the back of this photo: "Ash imitating Brett [another brother] and the rest of the baboon family." Man alive, caught in mid-blow. That's some excellent photography. I've never seen such fierce concentration.

Oh, brother. I love this one so much. (And I must because I risked putting an "awkward teenage years" photo in this lineup. You'll notice the absence of any others.) Anyway, I love the priceless look on my sister Jen's face (to my right), I love/hate my ugly, ugly hair, and I love that my brother is reading the newspaper during the big birthday dinner. This one's a classic.

I'm adding this one to show you just how much I love my mom's boston cream pie ... and how awesome my mom is for making me such a gigantor cake. I like it so much I requested it for the next year and even the next. It's goooood stuff.

Anyway, there we go. November 30th is a fantastic day. It has treated me well over the years. And the next time it's 11:30 (a.m. or p.m., but preferably both), think of me . . . and try not to fly into a jealous rage, imagining yourself digging into a slice of boston cream pie the size of your face.

The Old Lady Game

Disclaimer: I'm sorry if this post offends any of you readers, or your grandmothers, but this is just one person's opinion and it's meant in fun.

Every once in a while, my sister will be reading the newspaper and she'll pick out some quintessential "old lady" names from the obituaries and make me choose which one I'd rather have. Sometimes they're pretty traditional names and sometimes pretty unpleasant (I'll be honest), but it's been rather amusing to see which ones get labeled as Ultimate Grandmother names and which ones I'd honestly consider if I was suddenly forced to change my name to sound like I was 80 years old.

You've got your pretty grandma names . . .

Gloria

Ruby

Eleanor

Gwendolyn

Lucy

Madeleine

Helen

Ada

June

. . . and some that are notably dated but not SO bad, like

Ethel

Edna

Beatrice

Shirley

Elsie

Fern

Dixie

. . . and the more unpleasant ones, for me.

Eunice

Bertha

Velma

Doris

Margaret

Gladys

Belva

Francis

Mildred

But a few days ago, I would have told you that the WORST possible old lady name of all time was Phyllis. Hands down. I have always disliked it and have maintained this opinion since we started this little game. The name Phillip bothers me too, which is probably why I don't like Phyllis, not to mention that it sounds a whole lot like an STD. No one wants to have a name that sounds like an STD. So when we play this game and I decide which names of the day are pretty terrible, they always eventually get paired with Phyllis to see which is truly worse. And Phyllis usually wins. Hands down.

But the terrible Phyllis was dethroned a few days ago when we happened upon a name even more awful:

LaVolda

Ugh. Isn't it ghastly? Let's analyze why it's so bad.

• First of all, it sports the ever-awful "La" prefix. I can't say too much about this because my own grandfather's name was Lavern, but I feel like that's a whole name and not a two-parter with "La" haphazardly attached," like "LaDene" or "LaVerl" or the all-familiar "LaVell."
• The second, and perhaps most important, reason why it sounds so grating to my ears is that LaVolda is like the female counterpart of Lord Voldemort. Her parents should have thought of that 80 years ago.
• Third—parents everywhere should take note—don't name your child anything that sounds like the word "mold." They don't deserve that. It's like naming them Fester or LaCanker.

Oh, LaVolda. {shudder} It's so very bad. Do you have any old lady names to add to my list? Ones that either strike your fancy or get your goat, respectively? I'm sure there's a whole lot more out there.

Rankled

I know I should have grown out of this. I know I should be bigger than this, more mature than this, and over it by now, but nothing rankles me quite as much as someone calling me shy.

This happened again a few days ago and it's still festering a little. It bothers me, I guess, because I was shy. WAS. I was quiet, growing up, and there were a few years there where, yes, I was fairly shy. But now, I like to think of myself as reserved. I'm not a loudmouth, I'm not intense, I'm not high maintenance, I don't need all the attention all the time, but I don't have a problem speaking in public or teaching a class. I don't have a problem confronting a server if there's a problem with my order. I don't have a problem meeting someone new and introducing myself. For the love... I'm not SHY.

This is kind of like how, when I was younger, my sister only had to call me one thing to make me go ballistic: a baby. That's the thing that did it, for me. That was the one word that pushed like all of my 100 buttons. I guess the truth hurts. (Just kidding, Jen. I never acted like a baby. Not once. I would never, for instance, whine and complain about something someone said about me in passing.)

But shy? Come on. I'm 28 years old, soon to be 29, and this comment still had me doubting myself. "Why would she think this? What have I done to give her this impression? Crap, is it still true?" I hated hearing it and it still rankles me that she said it and that her saying it rankled me. (Although, using "rankle" repeatedly is helping quite a bit. I like it. It perfectly describes how I'm feeling, and it sounds like what it means, which I like. It's almost therapeutic. Rankle, rankle, rankle.)

My consolation is that the woman who made this comment doesn't know me that well. We're really only acquaintances and this was only the second time we had talked. And she's a foreigner to boot. Maybe she didn't mean shy at all but "very intelligent" or "most beautiful." (Just kidding. Her English was fantastic.) But frankly, I'm comfortable enough with myself (most of the time, save for the recent doubts) to know what I'm really like and to be okay with whatever that is. I'm not quiet or shy, I'm just reserved. And that's a good thing.

And plus, it's highly likely that the next person to call me shy just might get an earful that will show them that that's exactly what I'm not. So beware. I may be rude and immature about this, but for crying out loud—I'm. Not. Shy.

Am I?

Happy Halloween to you and yours...

... from the Fairy Princess Mermaid.

Why be just one thing for Halloween when you can be three?

I love this look of pure Halloween hysteria.

We had a great day. We carved our pumpkins (I know, lame to do it the day of), made hot dog mummies for lunch (hot dogs with roll dough wrapped around them and baked — totally healthy), had soup and hot bread for dinner — and waited for the rain to stop so we Anna could go trick or treating. It did stop. Eventually.

The upside of a rainy Halloween? People practically begged us to take their candy, since fewer kids were out. This is Anna's loot after stopping at maybe 15 houses.

One neighbor actually told Anna to take seven candy bars. SEVEN!

I also love that Anna is getting more and more creative with her attire, the older she gets. (Hence, the 3-in-1 costume this year.) It takes me back to when I started coming up with my own costume ideas, however lame. Like the year I was a die (as in dice — yes, I wore a giant cardboard box with armholes) or when I thought I had achieved ultimate Halloween genius by dressing as Mrs. Claus. And then there was the time I dressed up as a business man, only to have my trick-or-treating plans foiled by the flu. Ah, the memories.

What were you for Halloween, this year or in years past?

Annacdotes 11

Today's photos are brought to you by a trip up the canyon last week.  I love autumn.

1. Anna and I were doing a little Hot Lava scenario as we were walking/hopping down the hall to the bathroom. Once in the bathroom, I said, "Quick, get on the rugs to save yourself from the hot lava!" She then told me that the bathroom tile was not, in fact, hot lava — it was "ripe, boiling, rotten beehives." That blew mine out of the water.

2. A segment from a recent prayer: "Please bless Mom and Dad. Please bless everyone else on this earth. And even our cousins. Please bless even a single person on this earth. And please come visit us [quiet burp]. Amen."

3. When Anna has a sore throat, sometimes I make her some honey lemon tea. On one occasion, she had waited a bit too long to finish it and it was cold. On her way to the microwave, she said, "Mom, I need to warm my tea a little upper." I think she's on her way to making some excellent spoonerisms.

4. Out of the blue: "Mom, I'm glad my nickname is Annabelle and not Potty Hands."

NO idea where this came from.

5. Once upon a time, I got a baby doll probably the same year my older sister got an American Girl doll. After some quick research, I found out it is called a Bitty Baby. Huh. Who knew? Anyway, they had several to choose from and, back in the day, I chose this one:

The doll's outfit in this picture is way more updated and girly than the one I had. The outfit on mine was white and blue, which we all know means only boy. Anyway, Anna now plays with it and loves it. And she named it Jonath. If you make the mistake of referring to him as Jonathan, she will correct you.

Can you guess which gang sign she's making?

And I don't remember what happened to warrant this face, but I love it.

Friday Funny

A few things that made me laugh, of late. Happy Friday to all.

1. I just saw on my blogger stats that someone ended up at my blog after searching for "Hilary Banks hot." Funny, but I think Ashley was even hotter.

2. The fact that "premonish" is, indeed, a real word. A verb, meaning to warn beforehand. Huh. And not slang (or even communicating vagueness) in the slightest.

3. Finding this picture on my camera. One morning, I hadn't seen Anna for a while and decided to track her down. I found her outside, in her pajamas, playing "tennis" with pink fuzzy gloves and a baseball. (I stealthily took the picture through a window so that I wouldn't disturb the creature in her natural habitat.)

4. My dream a couple nights ago: I was sitting in a high school Physics class, making super lame Physics jokes to the kid next to me. (I don't even know enough about Physics to make Physics jokes, so this part of the dream was actually quite a feat.) And who was my teacher? RuPaul.

That's right, I said RUPAUL.

And what was RuPaul wearing? A v-neck sweater and a self-rhinestone-bedazzled jean skirt. Of course.

My achilles heel

I'm here today to discuss my achilles heel, my personal kryptonite (or one form of it, anyway). This is the kind of thing that, once you're within five feet of a batch of them, your short term memory gets erased and you lose all ability to properly judge how many is an acceptable amount to consume. I've already had 5 in a row? How about 15 more? Sure! Sounds great. I think I'll take the biggest one, for starters.

Yes, October is here and 'tis the season for

p u m p k i n  c o o k i e s .

In fact, I don't even need it to be October. We make these year round at my house. But even so, I had some leftover pumpkin in the fridge after making some pumpkin waffles a few days ago, and I could not let it go to waste. So it became necessary for me to bake some pumpkin deliciousness today.

In my mind, this is the best pumpkin cookie recipe ever. There are many versions, so to each his own. But as for me and my house, I like lots of chocolate chips, just a hint of cinnamon, and they're not complete until they're topped with a delectable cream cheese frosting.

Pumpkin Cookies

1 c. pumpkin

1 c. sugar

1/2 c. oil

1 egg

2 c. flour

2 t. baking powder

3/4 t. cinnamon (scant)

1/2 t. salt

1 t. baking soda dissolved in 1 t. milk

1 c. chocolate chips (or more)

1 t. vanilla

Combine pumpkin, sugar, oil, and eggs. Stir together with flour, baking powder, cinnamon, and salt; add to pumpkin mixture along with dissolved soda and mix well. Stir in chocolate chips and vanilla. Drop onto lightly greased cookie sheet. Bake at 375 degrees for 10-12 minutes until lightly golden brown.

Cream Cheese Frosting

(this is very vague, so feel it out)

2 oz. softened cream cheese

2-3 T. softened butter

2-ish c. powdered sugar

1-2 T. milk

1/4 t. vanilla (to taste)

Mix until smooth.

And don't be fooled by the size of this recipe. We're so hardcore here that we often triple the recipe so we can use an entire large can of pumpkin (including the extra 1/2 cup of pumpkin—maybe that's the secret weapon?). Sometimes we freeze some cookies for later, sometimes we don't and eat way too many over the next few days. 

Oh the humanity, I think I've probably eaten 100 today. These pumpkin cookies are probably only second (as far as the memory-erasing, judgment-paralyzing power of temptation is concerned) to Satan's Bait: my mother's rolls. But that's a recipe for another day.

Child Prodigy

Usually I'm talking about Anna when I mention anything about youthful brilliance or unusual intelligence. But not this time. That's right, this time it's about me.

I was talking about writing with a friend a while ago, and somehow I dragged up from the depths of my brain the memory of how my sister Jen and I, but mostly Jen, used to put out a family newsletter . . . in 1995. So I went home and rummaged around and found copies of what we churned out. Get ready for this.

Name: The Scoresby Tribune. Tagline: "The news you need to know." Amazing.

I think we must have gotten a new version of WordPerfect, or something, around this time and decided to put some newsletter template to good use. You can imagine the columns and the fonts and amazing graphics we had at our fingertips. We maybe printed two or three editions before we realized how lame we were, but it was fun while it lasted. Jen was the publisher, editor, and writer, and I was simply a guest writer and maybe a consultant.

Jen wrote a letter from the editor about how "CHRISTMAS IS ON THE WAY!" (this headline was in all caps in a cursive font that should never be used in all caps), spotlights on family members, an event calendar, and random newsflashes. She was incredibly thoughtful and diplomatic about all of this. Here's a "Flash!" from the November 25th issue:

Stephanie [another sister] finished her paper for her sociolinguistic class. (Whatever the heck that is) She just wanted me to put that in. (Like anyone cares)


[flying crane clip art]

While the whole newsletter is an absolute treat, it was my short story that triggered the memory. I think I was telling my friend how I didn't really know I liked to write until much later in my life, about halfway through college. Much later, it seems, than the stereotypical writer. I was telling her how I wasn't writing volumes of poems and stories as a kid (that's what Jen did, actually) — only to stop short when my guest spot on this newsletter came to mind. And the memory of it made me laugh. For several reasons.

This short story was probably the first non-school-related fiction piece I ever wrote. And when Jen commissioned me to write it, I remember first considering what I knew about "good literature." I knew it was somewhat depressing (if a bit sterile), it often didn't make a lot of sense, and it was sometimes about something you totally didn't see coming. And this is what I came up with, five days before my 14th birthday (just as a frame of reference):

I started to cry as I saw her walk down the snow-covered sidewalk and get into her car. Tears streamed down my face. I sat and watched the snow fall.

"Would she really do this to me?" I thought to myself. "Would my own mother do this to me?"

I cried and cried for a long time. No one was home and I was scared. My mother would never come back and I would be alone forever.

After a while, I got hungry. I went to see what was in the fridge. I saw some leftover apple pie and some Kool-aid. I ate that and went to watch some TV. I watched a show about a mother and daughter who went to the park.

"Mother!"

I started to cry again and didn't stop until I heard a loud noise outside. I ran to the window and looked out.

It was my mom! My very own mother!

I ran outside to meet her and slipped on the ice. I broke my ankle, but my mom was home!

She ran up to me. She knew that I had broken my ankle and wondered why I wasn't crying. I told her that I was just glad she was home. Then she told me that she had just gone to the store. I started to laugh and then felt really embarrassed and ran into my room.

The End

Riveting, right? If only I had remembered, when trying to decide on a major, how successful my brief stint at The Scoresby Tribune truly was. I would have declared "English!" faster than you can say apple pie and Kool-aid.

It was prophetic, really.

Beadarific

It's craft time again around our house. This is the second time Anna and I have made our own beads, and they're getting better and better, I think. I think we're just about ready to start making them into jewelry to sell on Etsy. As you can see. I'll let you know when we set up shop.

But honestly, I like that we can mold our own beads from scratch and that we can paint them when they're dry, seeing the whole process through from start to finish. It takes patience, since it all takes several days. And I like that there is something different and uniquely creative about both molding and painting.

Did I say creative? Yes. I call this one Green Eggs...and a Steak.

And it's just cool to create something fun out of basically nothing.

Here's the recipe for the clay, in case you want in on the fun:

3/4 c. flour
1/2 c. salt
1/2 c. cornstarch
1/3-1/2 c. water

Mix dry ingredients, then add water to form a dough. Knead the dough until pliable and then start making beads. Make holes with the end of a paintbrush, a toothpick, or some other stick-like object. Let dry for a day or two, turning over as needed to let the bottoms dry, and then paint.

Some shapes are difficult to make into beads (although we still tried)...

...but since some of the holes sort of cave in when they sit and dry anyway, it's fun to mess around and mold different shapes that can be enjoyed on their own, sans hole.

And if you can't tell already, I think the highlight this time around was the glitter glaze that needed to be applied to pretty much every bead. It does dry clear, with the recommended one or two coats, but 6 or 20 coats are even better. (See heart-shaped bead above if you still need some convincing about this.)
 

We also had fun adding some more embellishments, like puffy paper paint.

And with all the molding, drying, painting, and wearing, all the bead fun can last at least a week.

(These are some first-class silly/creepy faces, by the way. Excellent idea, Anna. And job well done.)

You found me!

So this is the new blog. Welcome to my new home!

Anna Oakley

On Monday night, the bishop invited us over so Anna could have a ride on one of his horses. She was beyond thrilled. In fact, the moment I even mentioned it, she insisted on wearing this old vest/chaps set my mom has and a brown cowboy hat and her boots. And who am I to deny her such style and such fun? She made a super cute cowgirl. Here she is riding Hoss.

He even taught her how to do some trick riding: "no hands" and this for a finale...

Backwards! I loved the evening and so did she. I also love that no matter how tough she looked with all of her gear and how good she was at saying "giddy-up," she still made a point to wear a string of pink beads to keep things real.

Celebrity switcheroo

A while ago, there was some Facebook hubbub where everyone posted profile pictures of their celebrity lookalike. It was fun to see who people wished thought they looked like, and there were some true and surprising likenesses.

I didn't post a picture for a few reasons (mostly because I'm lazy when it comes to things like that). But also because I wasn't sure who to put. Although, one time (but one time only) a guy I knew in college told me I looked like Charlize Theron. Even though I'm not totally sold on the validity of this comment, I will still accept the compliment and claim her as my celebrity lookalike. I could do worse.

Anyway, after all the Facebook business, I was reminded of a funny conversation I once had with my sister where we threw a new twist on the celebrity doppelganger thing. She asked me what MALE celebrity looked most like me. After much thought, this is who I came up with:

Sean Astin (on the left)

See? He's fair-ish haired (normally) and round faced, too. And the curliness of the hair doesn't hurt. Along with my cute-as-a-hobbit daughter, it's a pretty good match, I'd say. What do you think? Are you convinced? Could I be Sam's understudy?

Ok, let's hear it. Who's your lookalike of a different gender?

Annacdotes, Part 10

This episode of "Anna Says the Darndest Things" is extra long because I have so many backlogged and I wanted to catch up so I wasn't posting stories from like 6 months ago. So enjoy your extra dose of Anna. Also, my camera is having strugs, so this is the only picture you get this time.

Undoubtedly not the best if you wanted to see her adorable little mug, but it's still one of my new all-time favorites.

1. This is one more reason why Anna is the best daughter ever. I put a movie on for her and was on my way to the computer to get some work done. She stopped me and said, "Wait, Mom. I need to give you a hug and a kiss." "Uh, okay," I said, caught off guard because this is a ritual usually reserved for times when I'm leaving the house, not the room. After we exchanged hugs and kisses, I got up to leave and she wiped her cheek and said, "Mom, I'm rubbing the kiss in." Isn't it usually the other way around? She's the BEST, I tell you.

2. The toy that has brought the most joy a little while ago? A small balloon and a badminton racket. She LOVES to play with these and we've had some great rallies, she and I. The game is basically just hitting the balloon back and forth and trying not to drop it, but her rules also include this: She has to say "yippee-yai jones" every time she hits the balloon and "yippee-yai bones" when she misses. You'll have to ask her why.

3. We were talking about the food groups today, as I like to randomly see how smart Anna naturally is and what she has picked up on without me telling her outright. We discussed fruits and vegetables (she didn't know there was a difference, by the way) and then I asked her about meat. She didn't really know what went into the "meat" category, and struggled before coming up with "beetloaf." Sounds repulsive, but it made me laugh.


4. Trevor was in the car with Anna the other day and they were singing songs together. After a few, Trevor said, "Okay, let's sing a hymn" and sang one he sometimes sings to her as a lullaby. After he was finished, Anna yelled, "Now let's sing a her!

5. Anna announced that she had to go potty and that she had to go number 5. Yikes. I wished her luck. 

6. Anna was doing a little dance in the kitchen and I thought I saw the tell-tale sign of an impending trip to the bathroom. When I asked her if she needed to go, she said, "No, my bum was just jiggling with joy."

I can't think of a good comment on this, just like I couldn't come up with an adequate response, other than a giggled "uh, okay," at the time.

7. For seriously the past six months, Anna's parting words at night have been "Goodnight, bolly." Just characteristic silliness, I thought. But it made a little more sense when she made an addition the other night, with "Goodnight, hairy bally." Not the sweetest nickname I can think of, but at least it's now somewhat sensical. (Stop with the red line, Spell Checker. Why is "sensical" not a word? It should be. If something can be "non," it should be a word without the prefix. )

8. Some Anna-ese translations for you:
complenation: I don't know what it means, but it's always used in royalty scenarios she's narrating when off by herself
nourishen: used in prayers
ziggity zag ribbon: rick rack

9. Me: Come in the bedroom. I want to show you something.
Anna: (lying in the hall just outside the room in question) I can't.
Me: Why not?
Anna: Because I'll be incinerated.

I'm almost certain Word Girl is somehow responsible for this. I can't think of anywhere else she would have heard that.

10. Anna was doing some deep thinking the other day and realized that Jesus prayed to his real father. She thought this was a little bit silly and asked, "Does he say 'Dear Dad' when he prays?"

Will the real Ashley Banks please stand up?

So I often get random emails for at least two or three other Ashley Bankses in this world, all of whom apparently don't know their own email addresses. I get emails from their friends, pictures of strangers, all sorts of things. One Ashley Banks is from New Zealand, and I've actually corresponded with her parents, letting them know that I'm not their daughter and no, I won't be around to go sightseeing after my/her graduation. That was a couple years ago. Just this week, I found that she has made reservations at a New Zealand hotel for an upcoming trip. That should be fun for her. I feel like an unintentional stalker.

Another Ashley Banks was getting married in Florida a few months ago and it was super neat to get like five emails a day from various wedding event companies. Another is attending some community college classes in Texas and used my email address to register for her classes a few months ago. That was fun to get emails from her professor and stuff for several weeks about her math tests until we got it cleared up.

I think it is the last Ashley Banks that I have to thank for this recent email:

Dear Ms. Ashley Banks

You submitted a request for our online free high school program I would like to assist you ass soon as possible if you are no longer interested please call then number below and let me know. If indeed you are still interested please provide me with a contact number which you can be reached. There is a time period sensitivity that may not make you qualified to attend if you fail to wait too long.

Thank You

Sadly, I'm pretty sure this isn't spam because the email address looks totally legit. It's so unfortunate. There are all sorts of problems with this email, pretty much one in every sentence, but my favorite is the unnecessary cussing and the subject, which reads:

"K— Academy Free Omline High School"

OMLINE? Really? I didn't put the name of the "academy" because I didn't want them to be too embarrassed.

Anyway, this made me laugh. And I might have to track down my namesake and urge her to reconsider her decision to go with K— Academy, as they might not be the best ones to look to for her education needs.

Some thoughts from the park

When we get out of the car and make our way to the playground, I see that there are already about 30 people here, but a steady flow of people just keeps filing in. It's busy today. The swings appear to be the hot spot, so Anna and I hit those first when there is still a free one.

Near the big-kid playground, I park myself on a bench in the shade and watch Anna from there. I see a few kids that seem to be the quintessential park goers, kids you could see at any park in America. First there's the little boy yelling, "Die die die!" as he runs wildly through the wood chips. Of course.

Then I see two girls playing pretend. I hear a snippet of their conversation:
"Call me Mom, okay? Because I'm your mom in the game."
"Yeah, but what's your name?"
"Magenta." (Nice one, I think.) "But call me mom."

I also see a cute girl who actually looks a little bit brainy (if this can be a visible trait), and she just so happens to be carrying a book with her up the stairs and down the slides. I hear her talking to a couple kids at the top of the stairs, showing them her book, and she tells them the name of it: The Last Airbender. Really? She can't be more than seven. After she goes down the slide, she runs past me with one of the boys she was talking to, taking him to see the "best place to read at the park." She seems so much cooler than I could ever be.

And I see a somewhat headstrong girl who races her friend up the stairs and pushes ahead so she can go down the slide first. She does and waits for her friend to come down so she can gloat. Loudly. I'm glad I'm not playing with her.

This seems especially headstrong (or a little bit bratty) in contrast to Anna, who is playing quietly, if somewhat cautiously, by herself. She makes it up the stairs and is contemplating what to do next. I think, besides being a bit cautious, she's just taking it all in. There's not too much kid chaos around our house, so stuff like this is always eye opening for her. She finally crosses the wobbly bridge to the slides while holding on for dear life to the side rails.

She goes down one slide and then decides she wants to give the little-kid playground a try. I relocate to a bench near the little-kid slides. She's much more confident here and there are fewer kids running around, so that's nice. I can pick out her green shirt much more easily.

When I look up again, I see that Anna has found a friend. She's talking to a girl who is about her height (so she could be around 5—Anna's part giant) with a pink shirt and shiny purple tennis shoes. I hear Anna say, "I like the glitter on your shirt" and I know it's a match made in heaven. I see them decide to go down the wide slide together and, by the smiles on their faces, I can tell that this new friendship is going to last all the way through the rest of our stay at the park.

Anna runs over to me a few minutes later and says, "Mom! I made a new best friend!"
"Great! What's her name?" I ask, curious myself.
"I don't know." I realize this information is unimportant. What is important, however, is a shared love of glitter.
"Well, go ask her." I guess that's the polite thing to do, anyway.

She runs off to play with her new best friend. A few minutes later, when she needs to get her friend's attention, I actually hear Anna call her "New Best Friend." Classy.

With Anna totally content with the nameless girl, I start noticing the other women around me. Some are on cell phones, some are playing tag with their kids (high fives to you), some are talking with other moms, some are dressed to the nines for the park, some are watching from a bench. I'm a bench watcher. (Wait, that sounds like I watch benches. I don't.)

Almost without noticing it, I am comparing the bodies of the women I see. Some are quite frumpy, some are pregnant, some you can see have yet to lose the baby weight from baby number 2 or 3 or 4 or whatever number they're holding while they push older kids on swings, some look like my own brand of frump, and some look quite average—but I'm not judging. I compare, but only to think, "Man alive! The things women go through to bring children into the world—and all these wild children at the park."

My mind turns to the list of crazy things that happen to women's bodies during or post-pregnancy: obviously significant weight gain, hair loss or unusual hair growth, morning sickness, displaced organs and muscles, restricted breathing, heartburn, fatigue like you've never known, insomnia, swelling, rashes from hell, constipation, leg cramps, and sciatic pain/torture. (I actually just searched for some common pregnancy discomforts to jog my memory—Hey, it's been four years, all right?—and one of them was swollen gums. Swollen gums?! See what I'm talking about? Pregnancy leaves no stone unturned.)

I'm overcome that so many women still go through it, again and again, and I look at Anna and of course it was all worth it. Of course it is for everyone, pretty much, but that doesn't mean it isn't something totally full of wonder that is worth revisiting once in a while.

I watch as New Best Friend runs across the wobbly bridge with no fear and Anna basically prances across, still somewhat careful. I watch as they brave the big slides together, again and again and again, with less trepidation each time. She can do it now that she has a new best friend at the park, one with a glittery shirt. The friend she made in about 20 seconds has given her more courage today. She's amazing, and so are the rest of us.

Reaction to Toy Story 3

So you've probably read other people's comments about the movie or seen it for yourself. If you haven't yet, the reviews are all true. Pixar outdid themselves and the ending really was touching.

But my favorite part? Sitting next to Anna and seeing her get SO into it. Every time Woody was in mortal peril, Anna couldn't stand it anymore and she'd turn to me with a look of utter terror and both hands on her cheeks and shout "WOODY!" (Good thing the movie was so loud because she really did shout a number of times.) Her eyes would stay worried until I told her again and again that he'd be okay. It was a treat to see her so attached to the characters and to see her unabashed and affectionate response.

So I would for sure recommend the movie. And I'd even consider renting out Anna to really complete your experience.

Birthday girl

I'm just going to pretend that Anna isn't the focus of this entire blog already and do a small spotlight on her. Can you play along? Good.

So guess who turned 4 today? Yes, that's right. The little miss. In honor of the day, I will share some little-known facts about her and some never-before-seen photos. Needless to say, you're in for a treat.

(This picture reminds me of school pictures from the '70s, although I think the jellyfish do kick it up a notch.)

fANNAtastic facts

* Anna's eyes are two different colors: one is blue, the other is "a little bit hazel," as she says.

* She doesn't like this. She wishes both of her eyes were blue.

* Nicknames she regularly goes by:  

Annabell (this can sometimes morph into Annabell Brown, who is an ancestor of mine (look, it's not that weird for a nickname. This name has been programmed into my brain since I was a child and it just comes out at unexpected moments and rolls off the tongue)) 

Little Miss

lady (this I seem to use most often when I'm trying to prod her along, as in "Hurry up, lady")

Button and Banana (these come from one of her aunts---I like how it's not the typical Anna Banana, just Banana)

Anza (from another aunt, and there's no good reason why)

* Nicknames she had as a baby that are no longer in use:

Princess Pie

Manna from heaven

Annasaurus Rex or Annasaur (I wouldn't say these are totally extinct (ha), but their use is dwindling.)

* She has a very mature vocabulary, but she still can't pronounce the word "message." (She frequently asks to email someone a "me-juss." If I can't have her saying "lesterday" anymore, I hope this ones stays a while longer.)

* I was induced on 6-6-06, but luckily I did not give birth to satan's child that day. Anna prolonged the process until the next day (because 8 days overdue just wasn't enough, apparently), thank goodness for her, but it still makes her birthday super easy to remember. AND she happens to be the opposite of demonic, which is also plus.

(What is that face? Priceless, I guess.)

And I'm too tired to think of any more. I totally overdosed on birthday fun today: too much sun, too many 4 year olds, and too much ganache taste testing while I frosted Anna's made-to-order "chocolate caramel castle cake with flowers."

Happy Birthday, Annabelle!

***Update***

Due to popular demand (ha ha---I say two comments equals "popular," don't you?), here are some photos of my somewhat sad first attempt at decorating a themed cake like this. I feel a need to explain myself and tell you that I split the cake batter between the ice cream cupcakes for her party AND her birthday cake, so there was not much to work with. But the caramel inside was delightful and the ganache was totally good and Anna was happy---which means so was I.

This is what we woke up to this morning

And I quote:

"I'm a fairy princess movie star and I fight evil people and keep them from their wickedness."

She's got all of the necessary elements to her outfit, so I'd say she's right on the money. Godspeed, fairy princess movie star.

What is the world coming to?!

During a recent day of marathon errands, I had a few disturbing experiences that caused me to spurt this very phrase on a number of unrestrained occasions. I felt like an old lady, saying it and so many times, but after you get a load of what I saw, see if you don't want to shout this either.

I'll start with the most tame.

After a quick drive through Wendy's where I picked up a drink with my lunch (have you tried their new salads by the way? I'm a fan. I can vouch for the Apple Chicken Pecan whatever and the BLT cob—both are delicious and big enough for two lunches (which makes the $6 you paid for it stretch a bit further)), I quickly finished what seemed at first like a good-sized drink, only to realize that 3/4 of the cup was ice! No lie! 3/4! Maybe even 4/5! So maybe this is old news to many people, but I rarely get drinks like this if/when I get fast food and so have not been fully exposed to the Great Ice Lie that is currently plaguing our society. It seems like such a sneaky thing to do, Wendy's. So deceitful. Is it just ice? Yes. But though I've seen 1/2 the cup filled with ice before, I have a problem when there is more ice than the actual drink I ordered and paid for.

What is Wendy's coming to?

Next, I took a stroll through a toy store, scouting out a couple possible birthday presents for little Annabelle. See if this doll doesn't disturb you like it did me:

http://cgi.ebay.com/MY-FIRST-BABY-BORN-8-1-DOLL-NEW-/220554616576?cmd=ViewItem&pt=LH_DefaultDomain_0&hash=item335a145f00 (Sorry, you'll have to copy and paste this link; it's being finicky.)

You might have to click on the picture to enlarge it, but do you see what the words say in the middle of the box? "SHE REALLY POOPS AND PEES."

After I got over the shock and disgust at this thought and the humor of seeing this in print and used as a marketing ploy, it brought to mind several questions:
1. HOW does this doll "really" do this? What comes out?! Gross. More shock and disgust.
2. WHY would you want to play with a doll that does that?
3. What baby does this in a potty?
4. Have the makers of this doll ever seen a baby?

Anna will NOT be getting that for her birthday. She deserves toys that are not gross and certainly not ones that are inaccurate.

And here's the last disturbing thing I saw that day, which my reaction to makes me look like a total prude. But seriously. I was silently outraged when I saw this doll called "Tattoodles."

I know, I know, the tattoos are temporary, so what's the harm? But what an abomination. I just don't think you should be practicing that on your doll and thinking it's cool. I feel like it should come in a set with Body-Piercing Betty and Sally Smokes-a-lot. And minus 5 for the dumb name.