Sharing Daddy

The following clip is filmed sideways. I will try to turn it the other way, but so far I cannot read the instructions. M is hilarious.

What to Be When I Grow Up... Or... My Split Personality Under Analysis...

When it's time to be a stay-at-home mom, at least in my case, there is a brief withdrawal phase from that "other" life of jobs and school and required tasks that are checked off on a to-do list. For me, I always say, this took two years. Two years to figure out what exactly "time" meant anymore.... but that's another discussion for another day.

Anyway, since that time I've discovered that my kind of freedom - I think everyone has a different kind, perhaps I would be more verbose if I were not meaning to talk about something entirely different today - gives me the chance to choose once again what I want to be when I grow up. Usually my choice is that of an author, but I am not very good about sticking to my choices yet.

On weeks when I am very determined about the choice to be an author (like last week) I stay home with the windows and doors shut. (I don't like people to "watch" me write. Of course, they're not watching, but still, it's disturbing that they could. Yes, I am insane. We've already established this.) I don't answer the phone (even more than usual). And I generally stay in my pajamas until late hours of the day. While usually I get dressed early, I write better in my pajamas. If I actually take the time to get ready and change I end up doing other things. So pajamas it is.

I am also prone to writer mood-swings during these times. Anyone who writes knows exactly what I am talking about. These mood-swings are what happens when you go to the bookstore and find on the new release shelf the book that editor was talking about that got published instead of yours. In moments like this you determine that you will chuck everything you have worked on all week into the garbage. They are also characterized by moments when you read some sentence you wrote ten years ago and are fairly certain you're going to win a Pulitzer for it. Yes, extreme egotism is also necessary to writing. Why else would a person sit and create something for hours on end that no one even looks at? It's very important that you convince yourself it's wonderful and no one has ever seen anything like it. Which is why that book on the shelf can cause such a plummet. Because it messes with the illusion you've so carefully created. The illusion that actually allows you to keep writing.

The best explanation I can give of this is in Anne of Avonlea (the movie) where Anne talks about how she flies on the wings of expectation.. blah... blah... blah... and then plummets when the dreams she was imagining don't turn out exactly how she thought. But, she says, it's still worth flying, even when you're plummeting, even when you get a thud. Because in fact, you can't fly without flying high. It doesn't work that way. You have to jump off the cliff to get in the air. You can't just tiptoe into the air.

But that was not the point either. The point is, that there are weeks where that is me, self-described, above. And there are weeks where that is not me. And I am not exactly sure who I really want to be when I grow up.

In those other weeks, I don't want to close the windows and wear pajamas all day.... although I still don't answer the phone. Those are weeks like today. (They are assisted by facts like warm weather, previously mentioned books on new release shelves that are not written by oneself but look oddly similar to the manuscript on one's computer, and husbands that have to come home because of wives that lock themselves in the backyard - yes, I'm talented).

So, today being such a day, I did a project instead of working on my writing. This particular project was inspired by the website: http://thepioneerwoman.com/cooking/ (This project obsession is helped by the fact that I always did want to run away and live on a ranch. In fact during the summer between my freshman and sophomore year at college I actually got a job working on a Dude Ranch in Montana, but then I decided to take some job at Sports and Dance Camps - where I ended up meeting Justin - and I didn't go up to the ranch-job at all. Yes, I'm rambling. The point is, I've been compulsively reading this blog in order to live vicariously through their ranch life since Saturday when I visited the bookstore. Moving on...)

I will post pictures of my project below, but for pictures of the real thing you should go check out her site. After all, I have not decided that this is what I really want to be. And since I'm waffling between isolated writer and half-capable "homemaker" (cooking, decorating, and all that other stuff) I am not particularly getting excellent at either.

I suppose someday I'll have to decide what to be when I grow up. But for now I haven't the foggiest idea how to do that at all.

But at least E had fun.

Stirring the cake with the frosting....

Licking the frosting....

M trying to lick the frosting... after it had been thrown in the garbage...

"Pounding" the dough into balls....

A few cake-pops before bed....

And the final "best of" mini-cakes. They didn't get sticks in them because I forgot to stick them in before the chocolate set.

Nickel and Diming It

Says E: Mom, when are we going to go stay at that fun hotel again?
Mom (drawing a complete blank... is this a real memory?): Umm, I don't know what you mean.
E: You know, the fun hotel with the fun kid toys.
Mom (still confused): Well... not for a long time.
E: Why not?
Mom: Because we can't pay to stay at a hotel.
E: Where did all our money go?
Mom: We gave it to people for other things.
E: Well, then they need to give it back to us.
Mom (thinking that's a great idea): That's not how it works. We traded it for something else, and we don't get it back.
E: When will we get new money?
Mom: Not for a long time because right now Daddy doesn't go to work, he goes to school.
E: Why?
Mom: So he can learn how to work.
E: Did he forget how?
Mom: No, he's learning how to do a new job.
E: So, he went to school before when he used to work too?
Mom: Yes.
E (giggling): That is SO funny.

So, You Think You Want To Write...

... but you're supposed to make dinner
... and you can't afford to just order in instead

Two easy recipes that don't take too much time, or too much money, and taste like you actually tried.


Olive Garden Capellini Pomodoro

3 cloves Garlic, mince
2 pounds Plum tomatoes; seeded, diced
1 ounce Fresh basil leaves, minced
1/3 cup Extra virgin olive oil
3 ounces Parmesan cheese
12 ounces Dry angel hair pasta, cooked
1/4 teaspoon Pepper

Heat olive oil and add garlic; cook until it turns white. Add
tomatoes and pepper and heat through, stirring constantly, about
2 to 3 minutes. Tomatoes should not lose their shape. Remove
from heat. Transfer hot, cooked pasta to large bowl. Toss pasta
gently with tomato mixture, basil and half of Parmesan cheese.
Serve immediately and pass remaining Parmesan.

Tortellini Soup (courtesty Brittany Steadman of MBASA)

1 T butter
4 cloves garlic, minced
2 (14 oz) cans chicken broth
1 (9 oz) package cheese tortellini
1 (14 0z) can stewed tomatoes
1/2 bunch spinach or 1 cup frozen
1 tsp basil
1/4 c grated Parmesan cheese
salt and pepper

Melt butter. Saute garlic for 2 minutes on medium heat. Stir in broth and tortellini. Bring to boil. Season with salt and peppper. Simmer 5 minues. Add tomatoes, spinach, basil. Simmer for 10 more minutes. Serve with Parmesan.

I'd say more, but I'm going to go write.

So, my favorite photographer ever is linked down at the bottom of my blog (Canlas Photography). He was in our old ward, and I always dream of being able to afford a session for a family sitting with him. Today, I tried to take some cool pictures of my own since that day is far, far away. And then I tried to edit them. But then, since I was washing dishes, making dinner, and playing princess in between, I didn't really learn how to do anything too specific with my pictures in my new photo program. I don't know when I'll get the patience for that. Still, the kids are cute. So, you can't ruin that...

On the Way to the Car

Says E: Mom, there's a bug in the backyard. Will you come see if it's a good bug or a bad bug?
Mom... looking, and wondering if I should get out something used for smacking purposes: Oh, that's just two flies... repopulating the world.
E (in a very serious tone): Yes, they are making the world a more beautiful place.

On the Subject of Parties

Says E:

Mom, since it's March shouldn't Aunt Becky have another party at her house? It could be a green party. We should call and ask her when it is.

All Hail to Dee's Automotive, the Aura of Coach Nielson, and the Traveling Grandma Taxi

A long time ago I had a Thunderbird.

It was Rust Orange.

It was built by my father.

It had an engine in it from some other vehicle (I don't recall) that had been turned on end to make it work.

Pretty talented.

I parked it on the roads of Provo. An amazing feat. I may not have much prowess, but parallel parking prowess is truly mine.

But it died on the road.

A lot.

And, traumatized, I applied for a new vehicle.

This was a Nissan Sentra.

We call her Viv. As in, Vivaldi. As in, the Four Seasons. As in, she makes a new sound for every season.

For the past two years, she has determined to make Safety Inspections as difficult as possible.

Along with the dealership. I think they were in cahoots.

So, last year, under Coach Nielson's advice, we took her to Dee's Automotive. And she passed by the skin of her teeth.

And this year, I took her again.

And I worried.

And I fretted.

And I contemplated disavowing all knowledge of her when they called to say they'd fixed her without asking me about any prices.

"Um, a Nissan Sentra? I don't have a Nissan Sentra."

But when I walked up to the counter they handed her over to me with a pass grade, and for only $150 (which, when you consider the dealership's $100s, and complete inability to produce a pass grade, is a lovely idea).

Sigh.

Yes, sigh.

Sigh of relief.

I am so happy.