Toss a Pebble in a Pond . . .

What happens? Ripples. Lots and lots of ripples. I had intended to paint the living room and dining room during the two week break between semesters. It didn't happen. Why? Who knows. Maybe I was just enjoying the sensation of laziness which comes with the absence of a schedule. Instead, I waited until I was back in school to tackle the project. Crazy, I know. After choosing paint colors, I realized it would be morally wrong to apply a fresh coat of paint to walls that border shamefully ugly carpet.

If you'll humor a slight tangent off the main topic, I'd like to take this opportunity to share my opinion on the appropriateness of carpet in a dining room: NEVER. Not ever. Unless, of course, you never, ever allow anyone to actually eat in the dining room. It's a bad--no, make that terrible--idea, ranking second only behind carpet in a bathroom, on the list of interior decorating disasters waiting to happen (particularly if you've got boys). You get the idea, right? Good, let's move on.

For some reason--the cost of feeding, clothing, and housing five growing boys may have factored into the equation--new carpet was never very high on the list of budgetary priorities (motorcycles and kayaks are much more fun). But, as I mentioned earlier, fresh paint practically demanded the change. So I made the trek to a local flooring store to find a suitable replacement. I fell in love with a beautiful distressed solid hickory, but sadly, I would've had to sell the house to pay for it. So I asked to see something that looked just like it, but was more reasonably priced. The salesman showed me a sample of engineered hardwood hickory. (Made in America by prisoners. Really. And the core of the flooring is made by compressing the waste wood. I'm being environmentally responsible and rehabilitating criminals, too.) It was love at first sight, no kidding! I didn't even look at anything else, this was my floor. Choosing the carpet for the living room was just as easy. Sigh . . . if only all of life were that simple.

OK. Back to the ripples. While we were moving the furniture out of the living room, I came to the realization that the couches were older than Hayden, and it would be morally wrong to put them back on brand new carpet. I could move the newer ones from the TV room to the living room, except there's a problem with that scenario: don't tell anyone, but I actually hate those couches! Fortunately, Tyler and Brandi don't. So I'm looking for a new set for the living room, moving the old, comfy, nap-friendly set into the TV room, and putting the hated set up for adoption. I call it intrafamilial recycling. Mom Carling, do you want your rust-colored couches back? Tyler and Brandi won't be needing them much longer.

The floor guys are nearly finished with the entry and dining room. They're coming back on Monday to wrap things up (and to reinstall the baseboards for me: I asked nicely. :o) I think the carpet guys will come later in the week, which is good, because I've still got some painting to finish. I'm doing the same faux finish (above the wainscoting and in the back of the bookshelves) as I did in my bedroom.

In professional news, I just completed my first paid freelance editing/proofreading job. A friend of a friend put together a history of her grandparents and hired me to help her polish it before having it printed. She plans to write two others, and said she'll call me to help with those as well.

Jacob turned 10 on Tuesday. His presents (some Transformers and a truck with interchangeable parts) were no surprise: he was with me the day I bought them. (I know, I'm a lazy gift shopper.) Because he knew in advance what he was getting, I felt no compulsion to hide them before his birthday. This proved to be too great a temptation. One day I noticed an empty Transformer package in my bedroom. Jacob confessed to pilfering his present, but I let him keep it. Perhaps it was an instinctive reaction to a latent memory of a similar incident--though with much different results--involving a couple of young girls several decades ago. Empty boxes make poor Christmas gifts, but excellent teachers, especially when accompanied by a disapproving note from Santa Claus: Snooping doesn't pay. Before pronouncing harsh judgment, you should know that the little girls did eventually get their dolls.

Vindication, Validation and Other Valuable Lessons

Sometimes, in spite of my parental failings, the Lord sees fit to bless my children anyway. Let me explain. As you may recall from a previous post, I put off (read: procrastinated) this year's Pinewood Derby project until there was no time to make a new car. Fortunately, Jacob agreed to use a pre-owned model. Here's where the vindication comes into play: Jacob won 1st place! Not only that, he won all but one of the heats he raced in. I think maybe the car got a little push from Paul. What makes it even sweeter is the fact that he chose to use a car that I (all by myself) made a few years ago. Jacob's victory is a beautiful illustration of this truth: Heavenly Father is intimately aware of the needs of each of his children, and finds ways to bless us and strengthen us when we need it most. He gave Jacob the joy of success, and his mother, a gentle reminder that things work out--even when disaster seems imminent.

As soon as I write a two-page exit report for my Career Exploration class (which is really what I should be doing now, not updating my blog!) I will officially be finished with Winter semester. *UPDATE: I'm a free woman (until April 20, when Spring semester begins).

[Deep, from the tips of my toes kind of sigh of relief]

My mathematics-based fears proved to be unfounded: I passed--and even kind of liked--the class! I only hope I have an equally successful experience next semester when I take my final required math class.

It must be spring. It's Saturday afternoon and the only sound I hear is that of the refrigerator running. I've no idea where anyone is, but somehow, I'm okay with that. I still have a pile of research papers to read, and grades to enter into the computer. I don't mind the solitude.

Whoever said that I'd miss Paul a little less as time passes lied. They ought to have said I'd learn to better cope with missing him as time passes. And even that would be debatable some days.

Paul would have been forty-seven yesterday.

Wanted: Massage Therapist Who Makes House Calls

My shoulders and back could use a good work over. With less than a week left in the semester, I am beginning to feel the pressure of deadlines. I have:

• a MAJOR project for my English class to finish by Tuesday (when I get to make a 15 minute presentation of my portfolio)


• three--scratch that, four--art projects due Wednesday


• two math tests (the last chapter exam and the final exam) to take by Monday and Wednesday, respectively


• and a 2-4 page essay to write by Wednesday

But I'm not complaining. Really. I'll have a two week break--I'd like to paint my living room, so if anyone has a burning desire to feed their creative beast, give me a call--then it's back to the books. I'm taking what I hope and pray (please, please) will be my last math class, and an online religion class (D & C.) I'll also continue with the textbook development I've been assisting with for the past two semesters.

I saw the orthopedic surgeon on Monday. The x-ray showed a tiny bit of settling in my wrist, but he said I'm ahead of schedule with the healing process. I wish it felt that way; it still hurts!

Jacob has the Pinewood Derby next Thursday. I am either a very terrible, or very savvy mother: I offered to pay him cold, hard cash if he would use one of the zillion cars we still have from previous years' races. To my great joy and relief, he has accepted my offer! (Thank you, Jacob!) Before you judge, know this: I'm letting him build a car from the kit he got this year, just not during finals week. The way I see it, it's a win-win situation for everyone involved.

I'm looking forward to watching/listening to General Conference this weekend, and celebrating Easter with my family. I'm so grateful for these truths: Jesus Christ atoned for our sins and shortcomings. He suffered and died for each of us. He overcame death. We will, too. Knowing this takes the edge off the sorrow that might otherwise be overwhelming.


Homemaking Tip of the Week:

Um, Mom? I need immediate help.

At around 9:30 tonight, Cameron remembered he had a science report about an imaginary sea creature due in the morning. Naturally. Lucky for him, I was finished with my homework and available to act as scribe/typist for him. Can I just say how much fun it is to collaborate on a written project with a child who is not only intelligent, but shares his mother's quirky sense of humor? By the time we finished writing the report, we were both laughing. I think if I ever decide to write a book, I'll find a coauthor--I seem to be a better writer when I have a second brain to pick. Plus, it's more fun that way. :o)

Gotta love springtime in Rexburg: jacket weather in the morning, coat weather by noon. I had to scrape snow off the car after class today. Parker is giddy: Targhee is expecting 9 inches.

Call Me Curly

You know the opening scene in Oklahoma where Gordon MacRae rides out into the cornfield, singing, "Oh What a Beautiful Morning?" That was me yesterday. Except for the singing part. And the cowboy hat-and-boots-wearing part. And the horse-riding part. And the cornfield part. And the Oklahoma Territory part. But aside from those few minor exceptions, it was exactly the same experience. Well, at least it was a beautiful morning: blue skies and sunshine. I went running for the first time in, I don't know, about two months? Hard to believe, I know. My school schedule has really cut into my workout schedule. This hasn't been too big a problem because I figured out that I walk nearly two miles on campus every day--in addition to carrying a 15-20 pound backpack--and was skiing nearly every Saturday (prior to my unfortunate accident). Now that my cast is off, I hope to get back up to Targhee at least a few times before the season ends (don't worry: skiing only). But it felt so good to run! I'd almost forgotten just how good it makes me feel. The professor I work for will be at a conference at Oxford University for the next two weeks, which means I don't have to be on campus on Thursdays until my 11:30 class. I think I'll take advantage of the break in my schedule and hit the pavement on those mornings.

Yesterday was Chloe's first birthday, so Tyler and Brandi invited us over for dinner and cake and ice cream.



Chloe followed in the footsteps of the majority of one-year-olds who have gone before: she was more interested in the wrappings than the presents.



But when it came to the cake, she knew exactly what to do:




On a sidenote, I apologize for misquoting President Faust in Testimony meeting today. Here is the actual quote: "There are three things we must do when we lose a loved one: (1) mourn for a season (2) don't ask why and (3) pick up your handcart and move on."

Free At Last . . .

Last night, because I knew I'd be rid of my cast in the morning, I had the boys help me "beautify" it with Sharpie markers. The only problem is, I forgot to take a picture while it was still attached to my arm. So you get the next best thing: pictures of my obsolete exoskeleton, post-extraction.






Here's a shot of what appears to be the limb of an abused leper.



Yup, it's mine alright. Even the doctor was surprise by the amount of bruising that remained. Cameron said my arm looks like a skeleton, and I'm inclined to agree with him. It still hurts like crazy, and it will take some time before I regain the lost strength and flexibility in my wrist, but oh man, does it feel good to be out of that cage! No more plastic newspaper sleeves in the shower (thanks for the great idea, Mom Carling: they worked like a charm!).

Use the Force, Luke.

It looks a bit like a lightsaber, don't you think? Though I would never condone the practice of engaging in high-risk behavior on the outside chance of incurring serious bodily harm, you have to admit: glow-in-the-dark casts are cool! Every night, as I settle in under the covers, I can't help but giggle when I see the eerie green glow emanating from my arm.

I went to the doctor a week ago Monday. Dr. #1 x-rayed my arm to see if the bone had stayed put. It had, so he put a new cast on. By bedtime, my fingers were slightly numb and discolored: the cast was too tight. I put up with it until the following morning, when I went back in to have the problem fixed. The medical assistant split the cast down the back, hoping that he could spread it enough to relieve the tightness, but he couldn't. So I got yet another cast (which is still a little on the tight side, but bearable). While Dr. #2 (#1's partner) was putting the new cast on, he took a look at the x-ray from the previous day and decided the bone wasn't as straight as he'd like. He said, and I quote: "You aren't going to like this." That, my friends, was the understatement of the century. He then proceeded to squeeze the still-soft cast--and my wrist--very hard, straightening it ever so slightly. (His finger and thumb prints are preserved forever in my cast. Really.) I responded by gritting my teeth and trying hard not to scream, or kick the doctor in the shin. You'll be happy to hear I was successful on both counts.

I went back yesterday to have another follow-up x-ray. The doctor said he was "tickled" with how well my bone is healing. I'll be released from my fiberglass Iron Maiden--it really is torture to wear this thing!--in two weeks.

In spite of the discomfort and inconvenience of having a broken wrist, I've managed to keep up my school work. I've learned to write with my left hand, though it's not very legible. I take notes on my laptop, but do math by hand. My numbers have gotten better with practice, but are still pretty scary. I feel sorry for the grader! Art class has been the biggest challenge. Cameron was a huge help on my cut paper project.

I'm taking a break from studying for my midterm exam in Literary Interpretation--the only class for which I have to take a midterm. :o) Part of it is an essay, and some short written answers, but my professor was kind enough to make arrangements with the testing center for me to use a computer for those portions of the exam.

The editing project I've been working on for the last several months (see Nov. 15, 2009 post) has undergone some exciting changes. I finished my original assignment: verifying the sources used and formatting the end notes for the paper. The professor I work for decided to give me a more hands-on role. In exchange for doing some summarizing and rewording, I am now officially co-author of the paper! I even signed a contract that gives publication rights to the Wooden O, the education arm affiliated with the Utah Shakespeare festival. The English department chair is thrilled. The university loves professor/student collaboration projects. This is an amazing opportunity for an undergrad. I can't begin to describe the gratitude I feel. I'm now working on extracting text from this same professor's doctoral thesis for a lecture he's delivering in three weeks at a conference at Oxford University in England.

Hayden got his cast off on Thursday. He waited four days before going skiing. I'm pleased to report that he and Parker both came home in one piece. Parker went to the Sweetheart Dance at the high school on Saturday and had a good time. Tyler survived three weeks without his girls. Brandi and Chloe are back home after spending a week in sunny Arizona, followed by two weeks snowbound in the Washington D.C. area. They were there for the humongous snow storms, so they didn't get to see much. They had to come back to Rexburg for decent weather. :o) If Saturday is anything like today, I will be sorely tempted to duct tape a ski pole to my cast and hit the slopes!

Uh, Parker? This is your mother. I pulled a Hayden. I'm at the First Aid station." ~ message I left on Parker's phone

I had every intention of posting an inspiring, uplifting entry this week, but hubris and/or stupidity changed my plans. Let me explain. In what can best be described as a lapse of judgment on my part--and peer pressure on my sons'--I decided to give snowboarding a try. Parker got me outfitted with the proper equipment, and we headed for Targhee (with my skis, too, in case I hated snowboarding). All was well: I was really enjoying myself, and doing better than I had anticipated. Cameron, Jacob and I stopped for lunch; they decided they were done for the day. I wanted to make at least one more run, so I left them in the lodge. That run went well--I was feeling pretty confident by now--there was still time, I figured, for one more run. I should have quit after the first. I was within 100 yards of the lodge, when I leaned back just a little too far, and instinctively tried to catch myself as I fell. (Ironically, it was exactly one month, to the day, since Hayden had done the same thing, in nearly the exact location on the hill! I think we'll petition Grand Targhee to rename the spot "Wrist Snapper.")

Rule Number One of Snowboarding: Do not ever, ever, try to catch yourself. YOU WILL BREAK YOUR ARM!

Have you ever heard the sound of your own bone snapping? It isn't pleasant. I immediately knew something was broken. I pulled off my glove, yup: my wrist definitely was not supposed to look like that.


(This picture doesn't truly capture just how deformed my wrist was.)

I sat in the snow, yelling to get the attention of passing skiers. A guy came and helped me get the board off my feet, and said someone had called the ski patrol. I decided I could walk down to the First Aid station before they'd get to me, so I asked him to carry my board for me, then calmly walked down the hill, holding my broken right wrist in my left hand. When I got to the lodge, a woman from the ski patrol asked if she could help me to the First Aid station. I said sure, but first I needed to let the boys know what had happened. She offered to find them for me, but I said it would be easier if I did it, since I knew exactly where they were. I found Jacob (Cameron had gone back out with Tyler and Parker) and went to the clinic.

Without going into all the boring details, a guy splinted my arm then helped us find the other boys so we could drive to the hospital. I opted to skip the hospital in Driggs and head straight for Rexburg--about an hour and a half away. Though I was in pain, it wasn't unbearable.

Tyler dropped me and Parker off at Madison Memorial, took the little boys home, grabbed my purse, and was back in time for the exciting stuff: me babbling (under the influence of Fentanyl) while the doctor reduced (set) my fractured wrist. Parker said the doctor grabbed my hand and twisted until the bone popped back into place. I was awake throughout, but I'm glad I don't remember much. I do recall saying "ouch!"

Dr. Larson--the third orthopedic surgeon to have the pleasure of treating a Carling in recent years--put a cast on my arm, which he promptly cut down the back, to allow for swelling. (There are two metal nuts lodged in the gap, even as I type this, but the swelling is starting to subside.) If the bones stay aligned, I'll wear a cast for about four weeks. Thankfully, it doesn't go above my elbow, so I can bend my arm.

I had some pretty significant pain yesterday, but am feeling much better today. I had our Home Teacher give me a blessing yesterday; clearly it's helping. I'm taking today and tomorrow off from school. I should be okay to go on back Wednesday. Writing is a challenge, but will get better as the swelling goes away. I can type one-handed if I have to.

And so, if there's a moral to this sad tale, it would be this: don't get cocky; and go with your first impression, it's usually right. (You all thought I was going to say "Don't go snowboarding," didn't you? Honestly, I would try it again, but with wrist protection.)

I Miss My Friend

The one my heart and soul confided in
The one I felt the safest with
The one who knew just what to say to make me laugh again
And let the light back in, I miss my friend

See, this is why I don’t listen to country music: emotional overload is not compatible with the schedule of a full time student and mom. But Paul really liked Darryl Worley, and that song in particular. So you’re all invited to click on the link on the sidebar, listen to the song, and join me in a good cry.

How is it possible that it’s been a year already? And how is it possible that I’ve survived that year with only half a heart? Clearly, I’ve not done it alone. I am not only coping, but progressing for one reason: I have an incredible support system. First on the list: Jesus Christ. Were it not for my faith in him and his Atonement, I would not be functioning. Period. Next: my amazing family. I love you all. Now toss in an assortment of friends who fill various roles, ranging from impromptu caterer (thanks, Pizza Fairy) to confidante to intellectual sparring partner to therapist—at no charge, of course—and you can plainly see how I’ve managed to keep it together.

Paul would hate it if we spent this sad anniversary moping around, so we went skiing and snowboarding at Grand Targhee.



Hayden kept Tyler and Chloe company while Brandi was at work. When we got home Tyler, Brandi, and Chloe came for dinner, and we all sat around and talked and laughed while Chloe provided the entertainment. She's getting quite good at walking. Someone needs to tell her grandma to childproof her house and buy a baby gate. I hope you all spent the day thinking of Paul and the great memories you have of him.

"Keep Moving Forward"

Plan for the new year: clean slate, or not? Determine what worked and what didn't. Preserve the best, erase the rest. Huh . . . it suddenly struck me where I got the quote for my title. It's in the closing credits of Meet the Robinsons, one of Paul's favorite movies.

Christmas. At the risk of grossly understating the obvious, Paul was missed. But the many positive things that have happened this past year have helped to temper our grief. We borrowed a tradition from our friends, placing luminarias at Paul's grave on Christmas Eve.



[Sorry about the poor picture quality: we forgot to bring a camera, so I took these with my cell phone.]

After celebrating quietly at home, we all drove to Utah the day after Christmas to visit the grandparents. We also went to Temple Square, and toured the Conference Center. I'd forgotten about all the incredible original artwork it houses. I'll have to go back another time--preferably alone--so I can spend as much time as I'd like taking it all in. I managed to impress our tour guide with my rather limited knowledge of art and artists. He said I was the first person he'd talked with who'd heard of Carl Bloch, and his paintings of the life of Christ, which are hanging in a castle in Denmark. I thought everyone knew about them. :o)

I know I promised Christmas pictures, but apparently we have become rather lax in our efforts to preserve memories. Translation: we didn't take many pictures, and those we did take aren't that interesting. So, imagine Parker smiling broadly as he opens a package containing an HD digital video camera, a gift for which he is the designated guardian (it's really a family gift), and Hayden opening his helmet cam. Picture Cameron's excitement when he unwraps a mini projector that will allow him to show his homemade films on any surface: the ceiling, a wall, a sheet, etc.; and clay and a computer program for creating Claymation animation (like Wallace and Gromit or Chicken Run). Now, think of Jacob grinning as he realizes he is the guardian of not one, but two sets of night vision binoculars. Let the (night) games begin.

We went to Targhee on the 29th, but if you read my last post, you know how badly that ended. Hayden and I spent about three hours in the E.R.s in Driggs and Rexburg having his broken wrist treated. He's feeling much better now. He went to see a movie tonight with friends.

Last night, Tyler, Brandi, and Chloe came for dinner and games. We had Arancini (Italian Stuffed Rice Balls, go here to get the recipe), which I had promised Jacob I'd make for his birthday dinner. Eight months late is better than never. They take a really long time to prepare, but are so worth the effort! Even Parker, who was sure he remembered hating them, loved them. Then we played Uno and Phase 10, and had way too much chocolate fondue and eggnog. I lapsed into a sugar coma around 11:30, waking only when Brandi said, "Happy New Year. We're going home now." Boring, I know.

The boys go back to school on Monday, and not a moment too soon, in my estimation. Wearing pajamas for days on end is not the type of habit one likes to see developing in one's offspring. Happy New Year!

I could heartily wish this had not befallen

So . . . Hayden made a new friend yesterday, though the circumstances surrounding their meeting were less than ideal. The friend's name: Dr. Lee; he's an orthopedic surgeon. That's right, Hayden broke his left wrist--both bones--while snowboarding. As you can see from the x-ray, the radius was displaced, so I got to witness my first reduction (that's where the doctor pushes the bone back to its normal position). Hayden has no memory of the event, as he was enjoying a pharmaceutical cocktail of Fentanyl, Morphine and Versed at the time.

He's resting comfortably at home, sporting a temporary cast until the swelling goes down. He'll likely not have a permanent cast for a week or so. Dr. Lee did say Hayden should be okay to ski in about four weeks--with a cast on--if he's careful. I think he'll avoid snowboarding for the rest of this season. The doctor wants to keep a close eye on Hayden's arm, to make sure the bone doesn't move out of alignment, so he'll see him several times over the next month. Everyone else had an uneventful, if foreshortened, day at Targhee. Hayden got a helmet cam for Christmas, and one of the first things he did when we finally got home from the hospital was to check the memory stick to see if he'd recorded the wipe out that led to his broken wrist (no such luck). Stay tuned for periodic updates on his recovery, as well as Christmas pictures.

La vie est belle: j'ai fini avec mes examens

Je suis tres content. What? You say you didn't understand a thing I just said? Oh, that's right: you don't speak French . . . wait a second, neither do I. It must be all the delicious Swiss chocolate I've been consuming as a precautionary measure against psychological meltdown during finals week. It worked, too. I took my last final last Thursday. I don't know how well I did, and don't really care at this point. :o) Okay, that's a lie; I do care, it's just out of my control now. Update: I passed all my finals.

Today I delivered to my employer/professor what I believe to be the last of the papers/assignments that I will have to read/grade/review/cringe over until next semester. Actually, I enjoyed reading most of them, though it was sometimes painfully obvious that not all students are created equal in the writing department. The last batch of papers I read were the author portfolios for British Literature--the same class I took a year ago. It was interesting to see the varying levels of quality, as well as author choices. Two students chose Nathaniel Hawthorne, and one chose Robert Frost. Sadly, neither of these authors are BRITISH! Jane Austen was the top choice, with 20% of the students opting to spotlight the reigning queen of British Romanticism. (Go Jane!)

The boys have been revelling in their free time by spending large quantities of it in the pursuit of absolutely nothing, but I think we'll go skiing tomorrow. Parker went to the Christmas dance last Saturday, and had a good time, as you can see in this photo:


Oops! Clearly not Parker and his date. Hang on a sec . . . the picture was here a minute ago [sound of mouse clicks, fingers furiously typing]. Ah ha! Here it is:



Now that, my friends, is an attractive couple, yes? Parker looks nice in his new suit. Remember when he looked like this:


Who gave him permission to grow up? :o/

I did the majority of my Christmas shopping online this year, and everything has come save one package--its estimated delivery date is December 24th. I know that's cutting it close, but if it doesn't get here before Christmas, I'll just print a picture of the item to wrap up: "Here Hayden, this is what you'll eventually get--someday." :o)

I spoke in Sacrament meeting on Sunday. Fortunately, we have a bishop who is well aware of the craziness which is/has been my life this semester. He gave me a month to prepare, knowing full well what he was asking of me. I think it went well. It proved to be cathartic, forcing me to organize the thoughts and feelings that have been bouncing around in my head for the last year. I was asked by a friend if I'd post my talk here, but I think seven pages would be a bit much. Maybe I'll put it on my Weebly page instead, which can be linked from here.

Get a Life

That's what Hayden did on Thursday. He received his Life rank advancement and twelve merit badges at the Court of Honor. He tells me he's about 5 away from earning his Eagle.

Thanksgiving was bittersweet. We had so much fun over the break, but the absence of Paul's presence was very apparent. We spent an inordinate amount of time (Wednesday night, all day Thursday, Friday night) in Rigby, hanging out with everyone who came from Utah to spend time at Darla and Scott's house. I never counted how many of us there were, but it was a bunch. The food was delicious, and the conversation was stimulating. :o) The boys and I went skiing on Saturday at Grand Targhee. We were going to go on opening day, which was Friday, but everyone had trouble peeling the mattresses off their backs--late nights will do that. It's just as well--I talked to several people who did go on Friday. They said there were twenty-minute lines--not my idea of a good time. The snow was so-so, but everyone knows a bad day of skiing is better than a good day doing chores!

Parker is nearly finished with his night school courses. The boys all started their second trimester Monday. I've got three class days left in the semester, then finals. It's hard to believe. I went to the last TA seminar yesterday, and turned in a portfolio documenting the work I've done. Compiling it helped me to see how much I've accomplished this semester--no wonder I've been so busy! I finished my final research paper, my web page: an electronic portfolio of for my English class (it's linked on the sidebar for anyone who's interested) and I'm down to the last lesson for my online New Testament class.

Next on my list: reading research papers, more textbook work, and writing a talk. Yes, I got one of those calls from the Bishop a week or so ago. I'm just grateful he's given me so much time to prepare. I get to speak the Sunday after finals.

I am not making this up...

I took this picture Thursday--Thanksgiving Day--as we were driving to Rigby for dinner at Darla's house.

Remember everybody...

So eat lots of pie on Thursday!

Your wish is my command

I had a request for the Pumpkin Cake recipe, so here it is.

Pumpkin Cake

Step 1:
1 package yellow cake mix (reserve 1 cup)
1 egg
½ c melted, cooled butter
Combine and press into greased 9x13 pan.

Step 2:
1 lb. 13 oz. can pumpkin
1 ¼ tsp cinnamon
¾ tsp ginger
½ tsp cloves
½ c brown sugar
2 eggs
2/3 c milk
Mix and pour over top of cake mixture.

Step 3:
1 c reserved cake mix
¼ c sugar
1 tsp cinnamon
2 T softened butter
Crumble and put on top of pumpkin layer.

Bake at 350⁰ for 45 – 50 minutes.

"One feast, one house, one mutual happiness." William Shakespeare

May I just say how much I dislike the way retailers skip from Halloween to Christmas as soon as November hits? What about Thanksgiving? The world could definitely benefit from a larger helping of thankfulness and gratitude. I love Thanksgiving, it's one of my favorite holidays. I love the freedom of spending the entire day with family doing whatever I feel like: talking and laughing and reminiscing and eating and playing games and not caring how late it is. I only wish I could spend the day with all my favorite people--family and friends. And that we could celebrate once a month instead of once a year. Though I suppose part of the magic comes from its rarity, so it's best to keep it the way it is.

I have the entire week of Thanksgiving off from school, but the boys only get half day Wednesday through the weekend. That means I have two and a half days to spend in pursuit of...whatever. I'm open to suggestions. I think I'll try and finish my online New Testament assignments so I won't have to worry about them as the semester winds down. I've one more research paper and a couple more projects to complete for my English classes. My editing projects are ongoing: I recently combined two drafts into one--verifying all sources used, and compiling the endnotes--of a lecture given by one of my professors at the Wooden O Symposium at the Utah Shakespeare Festival in August. The paper will be published in their annual academic journal. The cool part is that he's giving me credit in the article as Editorial Assistant. Parker asked if I'm going to have a book signing at the festival next summer. Very funny, but no. The textbook-writing project is moving forward, but won't be completed this semester, so I've been asked to continue working on it next semester as well. I registered last week. I'll be taking an art class (design and color for my Graphic Design cluster), a math class (pray for me: the last time I had math, Ronald Reagan was in the White House!), Literary Interpretation, Career Exploration (to help me decide what I want to be when I grow up), and another section of Special Projects (the textbook). I will also continue working as a TA. Speaking of working, yesterday I served as a proctor for a roomful of students taking the Praxis test (for education students) at the University. It wasn't very exciting, but the pay wasn't bad.

Parker is working hard to finish his night school assignments, as well as staying current with his day classes. He'll be joining Cameron and Hayden as an orthodontic patient in December.

Hayden is one merit badge closer to earning his Eagle. He finished the swimming merit badge over the weekend. He's also in the thick of what Cameron routinely describes as "the teen years." (This, too, shall pass. Please. In the meantime, heaven help us all).

Cameron had a rough week: he had four teeth pulled--two baby teeth, two permanent teeth--for his braces. After Thanksgiving, the orthodontist will hook onto the permanent teeth that are above the gums and begin pulling them into place. The permanent teeth had to come out to free up much needed space. Cameron recently conducted an interview with a man from France about cultural differences for a project for Challenge class (formerly known as Gifted and Talented). He did a great job; maybe he'll let you watch it the next time you're around.

Jacob has enjoyed having two senior Elementary Education students from BYU-I tutor him each Tuesday evening. He's excited to try out his new snowboard equipment when Targhee opens for the season.

Tyler, Brandi, and Chloe came for dinner tonight. Chloe showed off her newly-acquired skill: standing by herself (I'll get pictures next time). For dessert, I made Mom Carling's fabulous Pumpkin Cake, which we ate fresh from the oven with a scoop of vanilla ice cream melting over the top like a delicious iceberg of creamy goodness. Can I just say one word: Heaven! Ya know how there are some foods that elicit a sense of well-being, the feeling that all's right with the world--even if it isn't? This cake is one of them; eating it evokes an epicurean epiphany. The taste, the aroma, the texture all combine to become the culinary equivalent of Nirvana (the place, not the grunge band :o). Okay, maybe I got a little carried away with my description, but it is really, really good!

Autumn smells alot like burnt paper towels

What do you get when you combine the following: a hungry nine-year-old, a microwave oven, and a distracted mother? At our house, they equal a Fahrenheit 451 re-enactment of sorts. Jacob decided to fix himself a sausage, egg, and cheese croissant. No problem, open the package, wrap the sandwich in a paper towel, pop it in the microwave for a few minutes, dinner is served. Except he entered two extra zeros to the cooking time, making it a big, smelly, burnt paper towel--but luckily no actual flames--stink up the house kind of problem. The scent should dissipate in a week or so. :o)

For some reason, I neglected to take pictures of Cameron and Jacob in their Halloween costumes. Perhaps I was too busy taking pictures of this little creature:



As much as I hate to admit it, boys, your days in the cuteness spotlight are over.


There's a new king, er, queen of the jungle. And her name is Chloe.

Ahhh...

That, my friends, is the sound of relief: midterm exams over (yes, I passed them all), research papers written, Parent-Teacher conferences attended, now I can rest--right after I start working on my next paper, create a PowerPoint presentation, read and evaluate two dozen research papers, proofread Chapter 2 of the textbook my professor is writing; read, grade, and record a bunch of generally mind-numbing discussion board posts for the online class, catch up on my reading assignment for New Testament, and attack the Everest-sized mountain which is my laundry. Thank goodness it's Hayden's night to cook!

The boys have been busy as well. Cameron got braces on Monday and is adjusting to that reality. Parker started night school--not because he's falling behind: he's taking U.S. Government and Economics so he will only have to go half day come January. Can you think what his motivation might be? I'll give you a hint:

Jacob wanted me to watch his Halloween program at school today, which was scheduled for the same time I had hoped to go running. Ever the creative problem-solver, I killed three birds with one stone: I ran to his school, watched the performance, then ran home. Exercise, check. Therapy, check. Demonstrate parental support, check. It snowed about an inch last night, but the sidewalks and roads were mostly clear. Though it was foggy, it wasn't too cold, and best of all, there was no wind. I meant to take a picture of the temple as I ran past--it looked so pretty in the fog--but I was running late, literally. Jacob's school is further from our home than I realized. Fortunately, they were also running late. I got there just as they were starting, my supermom status preserved once again. (Just don't ask Parker how many school programs I attended when he was in elementary school.)

Double, double toil and trouble

On Saturday afternoon, Cameron and I went to buy supplies for our pumpkin-carving family night activity on Monday. We found four really great pumpkins (no, not the Great Pumpkin! What kind of monsters do you take us for?!) By the time we got home, we had decided we couldn't wait to begin our masterpieces (when it comes to art, self-restraint is overrated). Jacob saw what we were up to and joined in.
We chose our designs, then started the messy job of gutting the gourds.
Ever wonder why pumpkin innards are so incredibly slimy? Maybe it's some kind of preservation-of-the-species defense mechanism. It sort of works, too. I would carve ten pumpkins each year if I could bypass that one task--yuck! So you see, there are nine pumpkins out there who owe their lives to my reluctance to get my hands dirty. You're welcome, little pumpkins, but remember: Thanksgiving is just around the corner. Can you say pie?

Two broken saw blades and twenty pounds of pumpkin slime later, we were finished. Jacob opted for a Star Wars theme. The pattern was a little more intricate, and required more time than he wanted to invest, so Darth Vader became a group project: a little Jacob, a little Parker, a little Mom. Voila! The finished product:



















Cameron chose a more traditional Halloween design,


















complete with personalized message:
















Mine, of course, is the one below, thus cementing my standing as the biggest Brit Lit nerd in the free world, a title I proudly lay claim to. Long live the bookworm!