Things That Make Me Happy

1. Getting Christmas cards in the mail. Four today!

2. "Famous Last Words" by My Chemical Romance. I have it on a mix CD in my car and no matter how many times I hear it it makes me want to sing loooouuuud. There is most assuredly a highly emotional Goth teenager somewhere deep inside me.

3. Wyatt putting a tiger sticker from the grocery store on my nose, saying "Mama's nose!" and laughing hysterically.

4. Christmas.




Wyatt didn't cry, not one little bit. Weird.

5. Being done with my Relief Society Christmas party. (Went swimmingly, my newish Enrichment Committee ROCKS, and my brother, our speaker for the night and spiritual black belt extraordinaire whom I called "Anthony" in his intro, also ROCKS.)

**Is it dorky that I say things rock? Yes? Ah, well.**

6. Wyatt's naptime. Whatever will I do when he grows out of it?

7. The fact that my students found short stories IN ACTUAL LITERARY MAGAZINES all by themselves and read them and liked them, and that last night, during their presentations to the class, could speak intelligently about elements of the craft. I have not molded any literary geniuses from quivering lumps of clay, but I do feel like they've learned something & grown.

8. Ethan playing the trumpet. We went to his band concert last night (and since I was rushing from teaching in SLC in order to screech into the parking lot at 7:03, the camera was forgotten)--and the band did a great job. Major props to the SJ Middle School band teacher for her dedication to one of the most difficult jobs in the universe.

9. Forgiveness.

10. Bed.

Oh What Fun It Is To Ride

We had a lesson a couple weeks back in church on enjoying life--a really good lesson. And even though I consider myself to be pretty content (usually) and mostly grateful (trying), it's important to remind yourself to stop and smell the apple cinnamon holiday candles every once in a while. Or in the immortal words of Bon Jovi, "It's my life / it's now or never / I ain't gonna live forever / I just wanna live while I'm alive."

Although, technically, I AM gonna live forever, but we understand the sentiment, right?

So, the apple cinnamon goodness of this last week is as follows:

Sunday night, Elise performed with the Riverton Children's Choir at the Assembly Hall at Temple Square. It's a darn good little choir and Elise was just beaming up there on the risers. My *$#)@ camera only took blurry pictures inside (the lighting was weird and the camera couldn't figure it out) but the overall red-and-goldishness of the photo at least hints at the flavor of the evening:



And here's a much better closeup photo of my loverly daughter:



The weather that night was downright balmy--a change from last year when it was so cold and slushy that I feared we might lose Jonas's toes to frostbite. Grandma and Grandpa Sweat and the cousins joined us and the kids had a ball looking at the lights. Wyatt was quite impressed by the big Jesus in the visitors' center (and even more impressed by the outer space mural on the wall as you wind your way up that classic ramp--he kept pointing and saying "Moon! Moon!"). It was a most pleasant Christmassy evening. Oh, and one more cool picture, just because it's cool:



Monday night, I met up with some high school friends, some of whom I hadn't seen in years. We went to Tepanyaki, one of those Japanese places where they cook the food in front of you, and I felt a little bad for our poor Japanese chef because we weren't paying him much attention, even when he was catching a raw egg in his chef hat and tossing his knives in the air. Too much talking. But SO GOOD to see them all again and chat away. I'm a girlfriend girl, you know? Some girls are meant for girlfriends (example: Jennifer Aniston); some are not (example: Angelina Jolie). I am most definitely a girlfriend girl. Here we are, posing in the Tepanyaki entryway in all of our 36-year-old girlfriendiness:

And for family members who might remember some of these faces from back in the day: Tamra, moi (even though the hair is darker, you do recognize me, right??), Tamie, Dana, Natalie, Sylvia, Tracy.

Everyone seemed happy and settled and themselves--and by that I mean we're all old enough to have sloughed off some of the insecurities of early adulthood, the worrying about being judged, falling short, all that exhausting jazz. There's a lot to like about getting older, and I really mean that. But I do love my old friends and I'm glad we had the chance to get together and gossip and laugh and ignore our cleaver-wielding Japanese chef.

Then Tuesday night I had our ward book club over to my house four our Christmas party (I know, I know, but I hadn't hosted in a while and it DID force me to get my decorations up and I cleaned and cleaned, even washed the cabinets down, which was satisfying). People started arriving at 7:30 on the nose and I needed until 7:36 to be entirely prepared, but nobody seemed to mind that I was still putting chocolates on a tray and queuing up the CD player after they'd arrived, although I'm sure Martha Stewart would not have approved. We had a great turnout and exchanged a bunch of beautiful Christmas books. Another fun girlfriendy evening.

I've also spent some time this week on Irreantum related stuff. As you all know, the journal's out, but we had a few printing issues that took some wind out of my sails. The pages are a little misaligned and one subscriber got a copy that was bound upside down (egads). I also get a little bit of post-partum blechishness (weirdly??) after doing an issue of Irreantum. Happened with the poetry issue too. There's all this work, all this time, then you put the dang thing out and receive a few complaints (founded complaints--nobody wants to read an upside down magazine), a few nice comments from well meaning friends, and then silence. And I know to expect that--we have a very small circulation, really, and what do I think is going to happen? Cymbals crashing? Confetti? No--you do your work and hope it's good and hope people like it and there you go. Maybe that's why I think it would be so cool to be a dancer, though. You do your thing and there are all these people trapped in a room who feel what you're feeling when you feel it, experience it while you experience it, and when you're done, they clap.

Ah, though, now I sound like a big baby. And like I'm fishing. I'm so not. Just trying to explain how altogether weird the whole publishing thing can sometimes be. Even after everything, though, being involved with Irreantum was (and remains) a pleasure.

Then yesterday. Cycling class with Forrest; serving lunch for a funeral in our ward (RS Presidency thing--and the gentleman who died was ready to go, so it wasn't really a tragedy); Dr. appointment (basically healthy, tailbone pain remains inexplicable); teaching class (fiction workshop--and I really love my students, an altogether earnest and charming lot); coming home at 8:00 p.m. and walking right out the door again to go make eighty gratitude journals with the Enrichment committee, gifts for the RS ladies at the Christmas dinner next Tues. We thought we could whip them out faster than we did--isn't that how it always goes?--and we were up past MIDNIGHT. Came home tired and with modge podge in my fingernails, but it was fun to hang out with those ladies, too.

Lots of girlfriendiness this week. Lots of good stuff. Lots to enjoy in this life, no?

All's I Want For Christmas Is . . .

a good read.

Right?

I battled the throngs this morning (and no, I wasn't trampled to death like the poor guy in New York.) I found almost everything I was looking for, and my Christmas shopping is 93% done. Are you 93% done too? And are you wondering what to get for that final 7%?

Might I humbly suggest some reading material? There's some good stuff on my sidebar, including the most recent issue of Irreantum, yours for the bargain basement price of ten buckeroonis. C Jane's book is a delight (truly--just ask my mom, who read the whole thing the night she babysat), and all proceeds go to benefit Stephanie Nielsen. The Mother in Me is a perfect gift for any mom and written by some of the coolest ladies I know. And then there's my book, too. Most of you have already read it, I know, so if you have you're off the hook. But if any of you live in the SLC/Provo area and would like to give it as a gift, I'd be happy to sign a copy for you. Let's meet for lunch at Zupas and get a bowl of Chicken Enchilada Chili and I'll whip out my pen.

And now I must go and gird up my loins for tomorrow . . . the great day of decorating. Oh, the paraphernalia! Wish me luck.

Oh! Not so fast. I forgot to say that yes, we had a fantastic Thanksgiving yesterday (thanks Mom). Lots of great food, and I didn't humiliate myself bowling at the Fat Cats bowling alley last night. A Thanksgiving Miracle!

And congrats to Forrest, who came in 6th place in his age group (35-39 year old men) at this year's SLC Cold Turkey race, a 6K in City Creek Canyon. Not only did he do the Hallstrom name proud, but he preemptively burned off all the calories he subsequently consumed at Thanksgiving dinner. He went with his sister Mindy and her husband Pete, and all three of them did great (and will probably remain svelte throughout the holidays). Great job, guys!

Hey. It's the end of the year.

Which means:

1. The calendar is full of scribbled appointments: "Buca party." "Elise choir: School, 2:30, Retirement, 5:00, Family: 7:30." "Wilkey Adult bash." & etc.

2. The people on the television keep saying "lame duck session." I wonder if the actual lame ducks (the people, not the birds) feel bad about such terminology, even when they know it's not personal?

3. Home, Family & Personal Enrichment. Meetings! Party Planning! Calendaring! Gathering of reimbursement receipts!

4. Hot Deals. Buy buy buy! And if you don't and the whole entire United States of America disintegrates and slides into the ocean as a big, lumpy, crumbly mess, it's all your fault.

5. Important Movies. Although I haven't seen one yet. (Is is just me, or does it seem like slim pickins? And is it just me, or do you harbor some skepticism toward the Hugh Jackman/Nicole Kidman epic Austrailia? And is it just me, or do you think that movie title deserves an exclamation point? Austrailia!) I don't think James Bond counts as an Important Movie.

6. Food Opportunities. Just last night at book club I had some caramel pumpkin layer cake. And I wasn't even hungry. (But yes, it was tasty.) Gaining five pounds in the name of courtesy--ahhh, the holidays.

7. Day after Thanksgiving Shopping Extravaganza. And yes, I like it. I do! It's fun! Gives me a little shot of adrenaline, and I get most of my shopping done in one long, jostly, bargain-ey morning.

8. Christmas Card machinations. What photo to use? The whole family, or kids sans parents? (This year: kids sans parents, posed this Sunday in front of the fireplace. Wyatt was being ridiculous and wouldn't let go of his dinosaurs, so the dinosaurs will be featured. It's an okay picture--not one of my favorites--but it'll do.) Also--family Christmas letter. What format? What tone? Lots of decisions.

9. Christmas music!!

10. And once again, the question: What in the world do I get my dad??

Twenty Years

So Forrest and I have officially been two-little-lovebirds-sitting-in-a-tree (and, yes, k-i-s-s-i-n-g) for 20 years. Well, scratch that. We've been k-i-s-s-i-n-g for 18 years, since there wasn't any smooching going on from April 1990- April 1992. Well, scratch that too. Forrest wasn't doing any smooching from 1990-1992. (And I wasn't doing much of it. And it was halfhearted.)

ANYWAY . . . twenty years. That's a loooong time, baby. But a long, good time. I can't imagine spending two decades with anyone more intelligent, hilarious, generous and fun then the man I met when he was a 145-pound 17-year-old who drove a beat down Chevy Citation and wore a Violent Femmes t-shirt, a white cardigan and bright red Chuck Taylors.

And yes, Dad, you had good cause to be suspicious (who WAS this guy hanging around all the time???) but I've got to thank both my parents for trusting little sixteen year old me and seventeen year old him and not kicking him to the curb (or locking me in my bedroom), because I can't imagine sharing my life with anyone better.

But enough mushiness. Y'all know I love my man. But I love him ESPECIALLY right now because of the surprise he sprung on me last weekend: a celebratory getaway extravaganza! And boy, did we have a great time.

My parents helped out (thank you thank you) and stayed w/ the kidlets so we could sneak away on Friday afternoon. Here we are, on our way out the door to go see Quantum of Solace:


Don't you think Forrest looks a little like Daniel Craig in this shot? It's the piercing blue eyes. And yes, hon, the muscles.

After seeing the movie--which was full of gunshots and explosions and car chases and pretty ladies in slinky dresses and Bond getting the crap kicked out of him--we took off toward the mountains. I had no idea where we were going, but it became clear pretty quick that we were headed to Park City. What I really didn't expect, though, was to pull up to the swank-a-rific Stein Erickson Lodge. I know! Forrest got a good off-season deal on Hotels.com (still wasn't cheap, though) and this West Valley girl felt pretty pampered for a couple of days. I wonder how rich you have to be to stop worrying that the doorman/concierge/server isn't judging you for your Old Navy windbreaker? (Well, I just answered that, I guess: when you are rich enough not to be wearing an Old Navy windbreaker.)

We had a gorgeous room and an even more gorgeous view.



The view after dark was nice, too: the lights were so soft and twinkly and peaceful. That night we had a fun dinner at an Asian fusion place. Forrest has been reading this book about sushi--yes, a book about sushi--and he was anxious to try some of Park City's offerings. And mmmmm . . . it was good.

We slept in that morning, had a delicious breakfast at "the lodge," (yeah, it was a lot of eating, and I'm paying for it) then we headed home. But we were only home for a few hours before jetting off again to the Segullah couples' pre-holiday party, which was also a grand time. At any rate, it was a fabulous weekend, restful and restorative and fun. My batteries have been effectively charged.

Oh, and two final things. One, Irreantum is at the printer (hooray!) and should be mailed out in the next day or two. Two, I got my hair cut kinda short and decided to color it darker, and a little red. I'm tired of the blond highlights. Time for a winter look. Voila:

File It Under Shameless Self Promotion

But you're just my family and beloved friends--except you, random person from New Dehli whom I've never met but who somehow stumbled on this blog--so it's not as ishy if I just tell ya'll about a new interview with me that was just published in a magazine called Mormon Artist. And the interview was done in two different email exchanges, two weeks apart, which is why I used the phrase "itching to" twice. (Who knew I had such a fondness for that little linguistic gem?).

You can check it out here. (And there are a number of other really interesting interviews in the magazine as well.)

Ethan's New Blog

Ethan had a blog for a while that went by the wayside. But his blogging genes can't be suppressed, and he's picked it up again. I'm sure he'd be thrilled to have some readers pop by. It's called Junior Highlights (great name, Bud) and you can find it here. (I also have it on my sidebar). Happy blogging, my boy. And be careful with the political posts--they'll getcha!!

My Week--A Play by Play

Sunday: Woke up at 5:15 with Wyatt. Fasted. Churched. Ate some mui delicioso roast-potatoes-carrots (sooo good after fasting). Went to the Wilkey Extended Family Home Evening at Grandma Muriel's warm and cozy Magna abode and let the kids get all rosy cheeked and exhausted running around the backyard in the darkness (goodbye Daylight Savings Time! Although I'd already said my goodbyes that morning at 5:15 with Wyatt).

Monday: Woke up at 5:19 with Wyatt. Took the kids to Marv Jensen Rec Center for their "Off Track Camp" ($35 bucks, Mon through Fri, 10:30-2:30. Great way to yank the kids away from the television set the last week off track. Also good way for Mommy to have the peace and quiet necessary to locate her marbles and put them back inside her head.) Took Ethan to GameStop where he purchased a VERY cool new game called "Little Big Planet" for the PS3, his reward for getting a 4.0 his first term in Jr. High. (Go Ethan!) That evening, attended Jonas and Elise's first piano recital with their new teacher, a very professional type whose students are all much more advanced than Jonas or Elise. But both kids did a great job and looked darling to boot. (And no, I don't have any photos!! I took video, but it's refusing to upload. Arggh!) Forrest spent most of the recital walking around Riverton Music with Wyatt, trying to prevent him from dismantling the trombones or taking a purloined drumstick to a $30,000 Steinway.

Tuesday: Election Day!! Woke up at 5:25 with Wyatt. Went to the gym. Watched lots of entertaining breathless reportage on the television, etc. etc. But then my day got derailed by a very distressing Facebook exchange between some folks on my Facebook wall (will not go into it here), which led me to the conclusion that 1. I am spending too much time online and 2. I can not control anyone, least of all people whom I haven't seen since my late teens and 3. I have enough going on in my life that I can't be spending my emotional energy on said people. So I deleted my Facebook account. Who knows if I'll pop back on eventually, but for right now I think the whole thing was a good reminder to me that sometimes you've gotta reign it in, baby. Forrest was out of town on top of it all (he always helps me keep things in perspective) but after a few husbandly phone calls, some election related, some Facebook related, by the end of the night my spirits were slowly climbing back out of the pit of despair. At 9:00 p.m. I called the kids around me to see history being made.


It was an extremely cool moment, for me and for them. I hope they remember it.

Wednesday: Woke up with Wyatt at 5:35. Cleaned the dang house. Graded papers. Finished up proofing the last little bit of Irreantum. Ate Halloween candy. Recovered from Tuesday-induced hangover. Stayed inside.

Thursday: Woke up with Wyatt at 5:45. Prepped for class. Finished grading papers. Went to Old Navy to buy myself one pair of jeans, but instead bought myself two sweaters, two tank tops, Wyatt two pairs of pants, Elise two tops, and Jonas and Ethan one long-sleeved shirt a piece. Wondered why I keep running out of money one week before auto-deposit hits the Mountain America account. Ordered Papa John's pizza to feed my offspring and inlaws (thanks inlaws!) who'd be babysitting said offspring since Forrest wouldn't be home before dark. Drove to SLC, taught my students all about "PLOT" (important takeaway: Only Conflict Is Interesting . . . hence, one could conceivably write a short story about Tuesday, but probably not Wednesday.) Drove home on I-15 whilst eating a Southern Style Chicken Sandwich from Mickey D's (I feel so much better about myself when there's no mayonnaise involved). Arrived home to find much joy awaiting: husband! Wyatt ready for bed! TiVoed "Office" AND "Thirty Rock!" Oh, the bliss.

Friday: Stayed cocooned in my bed until 8:00, since the dearest husband ever known to womankind got up with Wyatt at 5:48 and even got Ethan off to school. Went to the gym, did yoga. (The last 10 minutes of yoga class, you lay on the floor with a towel over your eyes and listen to twinkly music and a very sincere woman telling you to relax. It is worth every penny of the $60 I pay to Lifetime Fitness Corporation each month.) Brought Jonas's lunch (left in the backseat of the van) to Marv Jensen Fitness center to a very hungry Jonas. More Irreantum proofing. Made taco casserole on one side of the kitchen island while Forrest made a homemade apple pie on the other side and we listened to new Offspring songs on the iPod. Had dinner (Jonas even ate THREE BITES of the casserole!), puttered, put Wyatt down, left the kids home so Forrest and I could go watch Casino Royale on my parents' home theater system (Forrest has big plans for the new Bond movie next weekend and it was IMPERATIVE that I see Casino Royale in preparation.) And I must say, Daniel Craig is composed entirely of sinew, testosterone, and ice.

Saturday: Today, of course! Slept till 7:00 (even though Forrest was up with Wyatt at 5:52). Cleaned and cleaned and cleaned. Oh, the cleaning. The discarded shoes, the little lego pieces and Pokemon cards, the dust on the blinds and black furniture, the gunk in the bottom of the tootbrush cups, the pencil drawings on the walls (thank you Mr. Wyatt). The toilets, the pee. The Halloween candy wrappers. It's never ending, I tell you. Entropy!! But after a crazy barrage of homemaking, and a little mean-Mom "You can't tell me you think this room is actually CLEAN!" lectures by moi . . . the house is in good shape. For now. So after the crazy barrage, took Elise to get her hair trimmed (NOT cut, heavens), went to lunch at Zupas (fun! although the lady put too much dressing on my salad, but whatchagonnado), came home to a sleeping Wyatt, and laid in my bed UNDER THE COVERS at 2:00 in the afternoon (I was cold!) and read Courtney Kendrick's blog-book for a solid hour. Made me smile. And now I'm blogging. And feeding Wyatt Sun Chips so I can finish. Have I told you he's obsessed with giraffes? And brontosauruses? Something about the necks I'm guessing.

At any rate, this has gone on long enough. Now Wyatt wants me to read him a book about (you guessed it) giraffes. And didn't I say about an hour ago I spend too much time online? See? Told you.

Smell My Feet

Had a fun Halloween with the kids scattered hither and thither. Ethan left the neighborhood entirely and went trick or treating with his friend Mitch. He made an impressive George W. Bush (although he wasn't entirely convincing, since he can pronounce "nuclear"):



Ethan took off at 5:30 and ended up sleeping over, so I didn't see the kid till the next morning, when he came calumphing in the house with his gigantic pillowcase full of candy. Have I mentioned that the years they pass like summer dew upon the grass?

The rest of the family trick or treated in the 'hood. Elise was a devil, Jonas a warrior/ninja, and Wyatt a lion (grrrrr! he said).





Fer cute, no?

Elise ended up racing around the neighborhood with her friend Tayler and these cute twin girls who've moved in across the street. She ended up sleeping over at Tayler's afterward, so we were down TWO kids Halloween night

(The girls, minus one twin).

Then Jonas took off with a gang of kids in the neighborhood. All his 2nd grade buddies were a variation on the same ninja theme. They got pulled around by a really nice guy with a trailer and his nice wife who festooned it (festooned? does that entail draping? Ah well, I like the verb anyway) with hay.



After he was done trick or treating he went to one of his friend's house, watched movies and jumped on the tramp in the dark until 10:30, so he he had an exciting night too.

Then Wyatt got to truck around with his Dad and I for a little while. At first he was suspicious about going up to all these strange doors, knocking and asking for candy. But after a couple houses, he got the hang of it. And there's nothing cuter than a toddler in a costume.





It was a fun Halloween--and now I have all the candy to contend with. (Those fun size Kit Kats are calling to me!)

And now it's Monday night. Which means tomorrow is TUESDAY. For the first time in my adult life, I'm really invested in a Presidential election. I'll probably be glued to CNN all day long.

Don't forget to vote. No matter who you're voting for--VOTE!

(But I've gotta say . . . GO OBAMA!!!)

One of These Things is Not Like the Other

Right about the same time the kids came home with their school pictures, Forrest's mom brought us some (rare) photos from Forrest's youth. Needless to say, we won't be booked on any of Maury Povitch's "Who's The Daddy?" episodes.



Forrest at 7 years old


Jonas at 7 years old. (His siblings keep teasing him about his "spooky eyes" in this shot.) Even their teeth look similar, don't you think?


Forrest at 12 years old (check out the Breck hair! Go swim team!)


Ethan at 12 years old. (Not quite as obvious as the Jonas one, but the resemblance is still there for sure. And isn't this a good picture? Especially for 7th grade?)

This one is a little older, but I included it because you can totally see the similarity in face shape between those two. The jawline, especially.

So sometimes people feel sorry for me--that I'm merely a human incubator and (apparently) not genetically necessary--and tell me my daughter looks like me.


Elise at 10


Me at 10 (I remember liking how my hair was all spread out in this picture. Very glamour-shoty.)

Do you see the resemblance??? Neither do I. But Elise can probably be grateful she didn't get my squinty eyes and "sloping esophagus." She did, however, inherit my love of refined carbs and grumpy attitude toward housework, so there's that :-).

A beautiful newspaper story

I've mentioned Stephanie and Christian Nielsen and their plane crash. (We were raising funds for them at the Segullah book party.) A beautiful piece was just published in the Arizona Republic that tells their story. You can read it here, but be prepared to cry.

Reflections

As in the contest.

Those of you who live (or have lived) in Utah probably know what I'm talking about. Every year in schools across the state, kids submit their literature/art/photography etc. for a schoolwide, then districtwide, then statewide competition.

I loved the Reflections Contest when I was a kid. It allowed me my singular opportunity to win a trophy, since there was no way I'd EVER be winning an athletic award of any kind. Ooh, and you should have seen my brothers' rooms with all those trophies, taunting me (and this was back in the day, when the school-of-hard-knocks philosophy reigned and they didn't hand out those lame-o "participation" trophies. These were trophies that actually indicated triumph of some kind.) My poor pathetic shelves were crammed with paperback books and ceramic figurines which, while aesthetically pleasing and/or handy on a rainy afternoon, said very little about my worth as a human.

The reflections contest was my only hope. That and the talent contest. Yes, in my early elementary career it was a CONTEST, not a "show"--I think they changed it to the kinder, gentler version by the time I was in 4th grade or so--but I still remember winning a teeny tiny trophy, perched atop a cake, for my rendition of "Daddy's Nose" (from Saturday's Warrior, remember??). I did that one with my brothers, though, so the trophy tally wasn't affected. We also did a number one year called "I'm a Pink Toothbrush, You're a Blue Toothbrush" (I was the pink, Drew was the blue, and Tony provided the introductory monologue). My mom created toothbrush costumes for us out of refrigerator boxes and pipe cleaners. It was FABULOUS. Mom, that was a lot of work. Thank you. I don't recall any trophies for that one, though. But I digress . . .

I remember one year winning the literature award for my grade, sitting in the auditorium waiting to claim my trophy. The art kids and the music kids had received their trophies, then it was my turn. They call my name, I march up to the front, and horror of of horrors, they decide NOT to give the literature winners a trophy, but instead present us with a hardback version of Sheherezade's Arabian Nights. I can still see that horrible book, its blue cover featuring a smirking Middle Eastern woman--the worst, WORST award to give a literature winner in the history of time. Didn't these people understand that we already HAD shelves full of books?? This was why we won these awards, people! What we needed were trophies! Shiny, preferably tall, important-looking trophies with our names engraved on golden face plates. Proof of our success! I mean, any old Joe or Josephine could go to the store and BUY that stupid Sheherezade book . . . correct? So what does it prove that I own it? Nothing beyond indicating that my taste is a little off--I mean, who reads Middle Eastern fairy tales anyway? Especially twisted ones, featuring a desperate woman telling stories all night to keep from getting decapitated by her lustful royal husband. (Keep him distracted, girls!).

It was a hard day.

Sixth grade was good though. I got a couple of trophies that year--music AND literature. The music one was for a song called "Down By The River" that my mom helped me transcribe into actual musical notes (thanks Mom, that must have been a lot of work), and the literature one was about a girl who tries out for a play and doesn't make it (full of pathos, and eerily prescient, since that very thing would happen to me in the 7th grade). I also scored an extra surprise trophy that year for my "Be Kind to Animals Week" poster. Despite the fact that I had zero artistic talent, I somehow won the thing (maybe it was witty?) and that crazy poster contest trophy was my biggest one of all. It was after winning that trophy, as a matter of fact, that I started to become suspicious that the size and relative glamor of a trophy isn't necessarily indicative of the fabulousness of the activity done to earn it.

All of this reminiscing comes because today Jonas and Elise are entering their Reflections pieces. I have them do literature every year. The art category is glutted--every Tom, Dick and Cayden thinks he can draw--so you have a better chance of winning something if you enter in literature. Maybe even a trophy. :-)

And speaking of winning (and writing) here are a couple of pictures of Elise (one far away and grainy, another close up and cute) on her D.A.R.E. graduation day. D.A.R.E. is the drug education program in the schools, and every 5th grader had to write an essay about staying "Drug Free" in order to graduate. The nice D.A.R.E. cop chose a winning girl essay and a winning boy essay from every class, and Elise got picked! She didn't get a trophy . . . but she did get a nice gift bag full of coupons, a waterbottle, and a certificate. That's saying something. And she got to read her essay in front of the whole 5th grade and their parents and did a great job.




So I'll keep my fingers crossed for Elise's "The Amazing Tale of Buttercup Kitty Kitty Hallstrom" and Jonas's "Battle Brothers!!", their entries in this year's Reflection's contest (theme: Wow!!). I think they should win based on titles alone.

All My Famous Friends

Top Row: Kylie, Justine, Sharlee, Johnna, Melissa, Courtney, Michelle and Kathy; Bottom Row: Me, Melonie, Brooke, Emily and Darlene

So today I got to spend some time at the Deseret Book store at University Mall and celebrate the release of the fantabulous Mother in Me, a book of essays and poetry about motherhood written by the Segullah gang. (See sidebar, then click on it and buy one if you haven't already. Trust me. It's wonderful.)

And I know you've all heard my lament . . . how I joined the gang too late to write an essay for the book . . . but it really was so much fun to be able to be there and support them. It was like I got all the benefits of being proud without having to be nervous. I helped out by introducing each illustrious reader (the contributing authors read poems or excerpts of their essays) and handing out raffle prizes, but mostly I got to walk around and bask in their goodness and feel swellings of gratitude in my bosom. Hopefully the swellings were relatively inconspicuous.

The turnout was great--really, really great--and I think DB was surprised. But I wasn't, primarily because the royalties that day were going to the NieNie fund (see sidebar again) and Stephanie's sister, Courtney of CJane fame, was there signing books. I think she has at least 1,000 people who've never met her who consider her their best friend, so coming to the reading was a more socially acceptable way than stalking for some of those best friends to meet her in the flesh. And she was lovely and gracious and smelled really good when I hugged her.

But many books were sold, and we even got a mention on the news. You can see the video here.

And here are some more pics, taken with the camera I'm disliking more and more each dayt:


Captain K, also known as Kathryn Lynard Soper, also known as Kathy--head honcho and dear friend


My lovelies, all in a row


And more loveliness . . .


Courtney's baby, the Chief, whose picture is included not because he's a contributing author, but because he's so cute. That head is so dang kissable.


Courtney at the NieNie table. (The Segullah ladies made these beautiful origami birds that people could affix notes to. To which people could affix notes? Anyway. It was a great idea and they'll be used to decorate Stephanie's hospital room.)

See? Doesn't that look like it was fun?

Then when I came home I got to go to the adult session of Stake Conference and listen to Elder Marcos A. Aidukaitis. (He spoke in the Saturday session of General Conference). Elder Robert D. Hales was supposed to speak, but he got sick, and I have to admit I was a little disappointed at first. But Elder Aidukaitis was GREAT. Spoke completely off the cuff, and he was passionate, moving, and hilarious. I'm going to have to go back and read his conference talk now that I've seen him "live," as it were.

So that's been my day. (That and soccer and a Scout pow wow and Wyatt drawing in marker on the desk in the kitchen and my parents coming over to babysit--thanks parents!--and now, silence and the comforting click of my fingers on the keyboard.)

And so it begins . . .

Yes, here is the Mister, watching "a show." I wonder if, in 40 years, his wife will find him in the same pose.

"Show" is among one of his favorite new words. Some others:

"Circles"--This is what he says when he's found a pencil and is drawing all over the wall/floor/cabinetry. Yes, he's drawing circles. I keep trying to get him to draw his circles in notebooks, but so far he finds them artistically uninspiring. The spiral binding, perhaps?

"Eli"--He loves his cousin Eli. The other day he found a picture of Eli and Eli's family and carried it around for a couple hours, and whenever we pull up to Grandma and Grandpa Sweat's he asks for his favorite cousin.



"Books"--He reaaallly loves his animals books. Almost obsessively so. There's one of those collage-of-real-life-photos board books (you know those kinds that are jumbly and kind of give you a headache to look at but kids love them??) and it has all kinds of animals and he MUST have it in order to go down for his nap. He looks and looks and looks at it. He's really into the giraffe right now (he calls it a "babo" and for the life of me I can't figure out why.)

"Elmo!"--Whomever the Sesame Street staffer was that decided to name the fuzzy red muppet with the squeaky voice "Elmo" was on to something. "Elmo" is the perfect toddler word, isn't it? Although Wyatt usually calls him "Melmo." He has a singing/dancing Elmo--it sings "E L M O" to the YMCA theme song and does all the actions, but when he tips over on one side to make the "M," if he's on carpet he falls over and says "Uh oh!" all dramatically. Wyatt thinks it's hilarious. He also likes to make the Elmo run through one rendition of his song before naptime. (This is the same Elmo that a big-kid-who-shall-remain-nameless made me remove from his/her bedroom because it was "freaking him/her out." Strangely, I could empathize.)

"Cookie! Juice! Nana! Chips!" Basically (junky) food of any kind. And "nana" is the least likely of all the aforementioned snacks to be suggested. :-)

and last but not least . . .

"Dada." Boy does Wyatt love his Dad. Just tonight Forrest came home from a business trip and went upstairs to change his clothes without Wyatt knowing he'd arrived. So Wyatt comes calumphing up from the basement and I say, "Hey Bud, did you know Daddy's home? He's upstairs." Faster than you can say "Melmo" Wyatt spins around and starts zipping up the stairs as quick as his little thighs will take him. Nobody beats Dada. Even Mama.

So now I'm thinking we should teach him how to say "Obama." Do you think it would cause trouble for him in the nursery?? :-)

(And an unrelated p.s. I'm sitting here next to Elise while she tries to finish her homework. And what is the homework you ask? A word search. Can I say how much I dislike word searches, even for "fun"? But for homework?? It's such a blatantly obvious busywork assignment. And I just spent 5 full minutes trying to find the word "moment" and I COULDN'T FIND IT. Arrghh! What is this teaching her, except that most of what you'll be asked to do in your work life is pointlessly time consuming??)

For a laugh*

*if you have a little devil on one shoulder. People with dual shoulder angels may not find these humorous. So now you're forewarned.



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All these are taken from a site called "Fail Blog." They have some that are a little naughty, though, so if you go there click on "G Rated Fails Only"--and if you don't, and are ruined, I'm not responsible.

And yes, the only time I watch Jay Leno is Monday night. Headlines! (Amy, the only reason I wanted you to marry that "other" guy is so you could have a wedding announcement for the Virgin/Sweat wedding and I could send it in. I'm over it now . . . but dang, that would have been funny.)

Rainy Days and Saturdays

Conference weekend is one of the things I like best about being a Utahn once again (and yes, for those of you who wondered last time I mentioned that my spell-checker underlined it, Utahn IS the right way to spell it :-)). So nice not to have to rush around, to be able to sit on the couch in my sweats in the middle of a regular Saturday, to sleep in a little more on Sunday and STAY in my sweats one more day. Such an easy, slow weekend. Love it.

Today is rainy, which makes me feel even cozier. Poor Joe (and poor Joe's dad) had to go to a soccer game--so I guess there was a little running around--and they came home wet-headed and chilly. But Jonas's team TIED, and given their track record so far, that's reason to celebrate. Joe played goalie the whole time. He has this strange compulsion to play goalie and I think it's so he can jangle my nerves. Or maybe because he doesn't like running :-). But he's getting to be a pretty good little goalie. Forrest said he made some really good stops today.

Hmmm, what else. Wyatt has been on a rampage. He's at that age where he likes to stomp and yell, grab you by the arm and drag you around the house, demand CHIPS PLEASEE!!!! JUICE PLEASSEE!!! It's hard to be charmed by the "please" when he's screaming it, though. But gotta love him just the same. He's talking a lot. He loves his books. He goes down for his nap and to sleep at night with at least two books to "read" by himself in the semi-darkness (just like the rest of the family.) We have to go through his whole stack of books some nights with Wyatt emphatically shaking his head "no" to book after book until we find the one he wants. He's a smart, self-possessed, opinionated little dude who gives enthusiastic hugs and kisses. (Sometimes his kisses are a little TOO enthusiastic. Closed mouth, buddy!)

Last thing. Elise has been trying to find a Halloween costume with her friend Tayler. Last year they were "twin" pirates, and they want to be twins again, so they've been looking online. The following is an example of the Halloween costumes marketed to little girls:



I keep having to tell her, "too immodest," "nope, too skimpy." Luckily, she's not fighting me on it. (I even heard her on the phone say, "I don't want to wear one that might show my stomach. That makes me uncomfortable." Go Lou!). But seriously, my daughter is 10 and these are the costumes she's supposed to be wearing? This world!!

Now I'd better go be productive. Forrest is walking around with a bottle of Windex in his hand--pleasantly, I might add, without any judgmental stomping or self-righteous sighing--but that can make a wife feel, we'll, shirky. Better unshirk.