White Christmas

Minnesota delivered on the snow front!

We had heaps and piles, freezing rain, moist, moldable snow (best for making snowmen and snowballs), hard, packed snow on the sled hills, softly falling snow in the evenings, bitter, biting gusts, and tasty clumps to eat. There was one contingency urging restraint on the eating of snow ("It could be fatal!" "It chills your internal organs!"), but Uncle Andrew urged everyone to remember childhood is so precious, so short that they should be able to eat all the snow they want!

Resolved

This year, I resolved to make only manageable resolutions. That's a new thing for me. Usually, my January list reads like an itinerary for invading a foreign country and is totally undoable, i.e. "Grow out hair for Valentine's Day" or "Lose weight" or "Learn HTML". (What are some of your crazy resolutions from years past?)

I did chuckle with my sisters, wondering if there will ever be a year when I don't resolve to lose weight. What would such a year feel like? (Valerie Frankel's memoir Thin Is the New Happy has some ideas, and does provide a road map of sorts: don't worry about food and exercise at least four times a week, she concludes.)

But I don't want my resolutions to become another burden, another source of nagging failure. So making them realistic is the way to go in 2009.

I took a bag of rocks that I purchased years ago and wrote in Sharpie on each rock one verb phrase, i.e. Enjoy children. Laugh with them every day. Continue to hold meaningful family home evenings. Faciliate Graham's Cub Scouts. Follow the Spirit in church stewardships. Lose weight. Whiten teeth. Work on novel (the big unstarted albatross that makes me dread each passing year) each week. Improve grading comments to better help students improve writing. Back up iphoto files.

And so on.

Although I have about 20 rocks, most of the tasks are things that I'm trying to do already. The enjoying children is probably the most important resolution. I want to have fun with them more often and with fewer backwards glances to unswept floors.

However, I'm not one of those people who says, Don't worry about the floor. It doesn't matter. Because it does matter to me. Dirty floors make me antsy and unproductive, so I need my house to maintain a certain level of tidiness, otherwise we spiral into disarray. Hence the rock that says, Maintain adequate cleaniness for productivity. No more, no less.

I'm going to put the rocks in a jar with sand, of course. Which LDS woman among us doesn't live and die by the rock/sand metaphor? Or is it just me? I love the image!

If, at the end of the year, Graham has successfully completed his Wolf and is working on his Bear, if his A1C is below 7, if Annie has solidified her reading and is working on the piano, if my teeth are bright white and my jeans less snug, if I've held strong in making the kids take their Omega-3 supplements, if I've finished the Book of Mormon with the Young Women in our ward, if I've strengthened my friendships and family relationships, if I've moved even further away from emotional reactivity in my parenting (see upcoming post on the a-maz-ing book ScreamFree Parenting!) and if I have some chapters completed, well, I'll feel like it was a good year.

p.s. I've already started working on my smile with an Oral B Super Turbo Brush Hog. It blasts plaque right off. Yes, I was a little alarmed at the fine print: Seek the advice of your dentist if gum bleeding persists for more than two weeks. But beauty comes at a price. $19.99, to be exact. :)

The Splendid Table's How to Eat Supper

I keep going on and on about this cookbook, and it totally deserves it.

Last fall, I happened to see it on the library's New Books shelf. I'm a sucker for glossy cookbooks, and love to check them out just to drool at food styling. This one was a bit different, however. I could see myself making many of the dishes, like pan-fried deviled eggs. And I was halfway through the book when I realized many of the dishes were meatless or had meatless adaptations. One of the nifty features of How to Eat Supper is a variations-on-a-theme list after the main recipe. I renewed the book, then returned it, then checked it out again, then requested it for Christmas.

It's funny and instructive and full of recommendations and not at all full of itself. It gives lots of shortcuts, like how to make quick pho (vietnamese soup), which I've been wanting to do, ever since I read Anthony Bourdain's A Cook's Tour (his conclusion was that Vietnam has the world's tastiest cuisine).

Here's the plug from Publisher's Weekly, taken from The Splendid Table's website:

... this superb book should grace the shelves of even the most infrequent of cooks. ... Given the show's popularity, the accessibility of the recipes and the authors' practical and useful advice, this excellent book is sure to become a kitchen staple."

You can even sign up for an e-newsletter with tips & recipes.

For someone like me, someone who loves food and wants to be a great home cook, but often lacks time and/or technique, The Splendid Table makes me feel like my goal is within my reach

Graham's testimony

Graham was asked to share his testimony during Primary this past Sunday. We sat down at the computer so he could tell me what I should type. This is what he came up with, and what he shared during the meeting. My only prompting was that I told him a testimony often started with "I believe", and then after the second 'paragraph', I asked him if he wanted to add anything about church or family.

If you know Graham, you know he enjoys making pronouncements. Picture him standing in my room, ruminating, then sharing his insights in a megaphone-volume voice. (I'm including a couple of baby pictures because, of course, it's hard to believe he's already eight years old!)

Graham’s testimony
January 4, 2009

I believe that God is the most powerful thing in the universe. I believe that God loves me and will never stop loving me, even if I do something wrong.

We should repent if we do something wrong. Jesus who died for our sins lets us repent. Jesus loves me as much as God does. He is my older brother.

I like that at church you don’t have to stay as long as at school. Also, I like learning about history and the gospel.

I am grateful for my family and that they do not dislike me. I’m glad that we are sealed together.

Genetic connections?

Family pictures, of course

As I peruse my fellow bloggers' post-Christmas postings, I love reveling in everyone's Christmas memories and recollections. It helps extend the season just a bit longer.

But this isn't that post.

There are many things I want to record, for me, if no one else. Things like Graham's excitement at receiving baseball chess (Who knew Santa had such toys in his sleigh?) Things like Graham drinking - and begging for - Aunt Courtney's spinach/strawberry smoothie. Things like Annie waking up with sponge rollers in her hair and brushing out the beautiful curls. Things like cousin fun and kisses from Miles. Things like the perfect, perfect, moist snow that presented itself on our first night at the cabin. Things like The Splendid Table How to Eat Supper Cookbook, a very special gift in my pile.

But this isn't that post.

I have to unload groceries, take out the trash, tidy up, settle down, find places for the new gifts.

However, I have some darling photos of the three of us taken by my mother in her traveling studio. So while the words start gathering in my brain, I'll share some images.

But I promise to get the video of Graham joyfully using his Christmas Whoopee Cushion (Aunt Marni knew what this 8 year old would like!) pronto.

Travel conclusions

We returned to the Lone Star State yesterday, well, today, actually. Many lessons were learned in transit. Many prayers were uttered. Many desires for a magic genie (a la Aladdin) bubbled up in my brain. Many pieces of gum were chewed.

So what did I learn?
1st lesson, a somewhat surprising one: I'd rather fly out at the crack of dawn than later in the day. Our departure to Minnesota was a 6 a.m. flight. I bought the tickets this summer (rather desperately since I kept trying to book on Priceline.com only to receive 3 messages that, "This fare is no longer available"), and postponed my dread of the earlier departure until after Thanksgiving. Obviously, 6 a.m. flight means 4:30 a.m. airport arrival. Yikes. Especially when we live 1.5+ hours from the airport.

In an attempt to lessen the earliness of our departure, we stayed in a motel just down the road from the airport, and the kids loved it. They loved the beeping alarm clock and the Parking Spot shuttle bus too. They even loved being in the airport and taking the moving sidewalks. At 4:30 a.m., the airport is just waking up. People are fresh and friendly. I had a TSA agent carry all my bags from the shuttle bus to the ticketing area. Most appreciated, since we had 3 bags, 4 carry-ons (including Graham and Annie's own darling pull bags from Meme and PawPaw), and assorted sweatshirts tied around waists. The security line was ... not really a line. We got right in at 4:45 a.m. There was even a friendly employee who sold me chocolate filled croissants at the little newsstand, even though the bakery portion wasn't supposed to open until 5 a.m.

Although it meant getting up early - major yawns all around - we had excitement on our side.

Our return flight left Minnesota at 2:45 or so. A great time in that I was able to visit with Kara & Sara, dear high school friends, before the flight. But after arriving in Atlanta - my favorite comment from my mom during our packing-up frenzy was "Have you checked the weather in Atlanta? Are you sure you don't need these coats?" For no other reason than the frightening prospect of having to make a second trip through the security checkpoint, we stayed inside Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport. Our only Georgia ambiance came from JukeJoints, a BBQ place near our gate - the kids were getting tired.

Even before we left Minnesota, I could feel the stress of the later time. The airport was full, the security line stalled. The bags felt heavier & the sweatshirts were dragging behind our bags. We didn't have time to play in the KidZone before boarding our plane because it took so long to have our belongings x-rayed.

Once in Georgia, our flight was supposed to leave Atlanta at 8:55 p.m. Eastern time. We sat on the aircraft for 1 hour. Hell on wheels, people. The temperature alternated between stale heat and gusts of cold air from the blowers above our heads. My children were "soooooooooooo thirsty" that they couldn't stop saying the word thirsty. I'm not proud to admit this but I resorted to pinching, as in pinching Graham's behind on the (literally) 36th time he said "10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, blastoff" while we waited on the tarmac without blasting off.

Once in the air, Annie fell sweetly asleep and Graham watched a movie. I listened to a bit of satellite radio and read old issues of O Magazine, a favorite airplane activity! But once we landed at 11:10 p.m., Annie awoke very un-sweetly, and who can blame her? Her zip-up boots were giving us fits, and she sobbed, "These boots fit in Minnesota but my feet have grown."

I could feel my hair actually beginning to curl as we walked through Houston Hobby. I could feel my emotions curl too as we waited for 25 minutes before the bags arrived. My children were rolling their lucky coins on the filthy floor and bickering over who could sit on top of the SmartCart. There was definitely no friendly TSA agent to help me maneuver my Beverly Hillbillies-style cart to the waiting zone.

We got home home at 2 a.m., and they woke up a little as I carried them in the house. Both were excited to see the cats and the completed nativity set, but both were half zombies. Graham peeled off all of his clothes and hopped into bed stark naked. Annie was past the point of sanity. She looked at him with tears in her eyes and said, "You disgust me!" Then she got in her bed and fell asleep before her head was on the pillow. As I lay beside her in the narrow twin bed, since as my friend/wonderful cat care technician Jennifer had warned me, Knight got "confused" about his litter box and used my bed, I vowed never to try a late arrival by myself again. It's one thing where there is a wonderful Grandpa Fred waiting at Baggage Claim to help. It's another when there are no reinforcements on the horizon.

2nd lesson, a somewhat short-lived one: AirTran is a swell airline. For some reason, probably word connotation gone wild, I thought it was a cargo freight-type operation. It's the "Tran" part of the name. I associated the airline with people sitting next to cardboard boxes, hanging on to loops of canvas on the wall.

The planes themselves were very nice, very new, quite clean and powerful. I've gotten used to flying MD-80s. These were Boeing 727s and 707s that flew at 40,000 feet. (3rd lesson - I think I prefer flying at 29,000 feet.) As we took off from Atlanta to Minneapolis, the surge was so powerful I was sure we were headed for the International Space Station. I guess I prefer to be a bit closer to terra firma, as in lips to the ground.

But all fear aside, the flights were buttery smooth. They served SpriteZero and offered refills multiple times. They gave out little headsets for the satellite radio. Hey, AirTran, I'm going to fly you again, I thought.

Then today I saw the news headlines: AirTran apologizes for kicking innocent Muslim family off flight in an embarrassing way because of an innocuous conversation about the safest place to be seated in the plane amidst glares from suspicious fellow travelers.

Oh, AirTran. I had just opened my heart to you.