Pickle Explosion

I do not really enjoy cooking.  It takes time and is messy.  And only half of the family will like any given meal, so there's always a complainer.

Today, I decided to be a good wife and mother and make a casserole for dinner so that it would be ready for the boys after Reed's baseball game and so that I could have leftovers after City Council.  I even used leftovers, so I should just about be translated.  The grand finale was a sprinkling of cheese on top.  I reached into the refrigerator to get the cheese and the Half-and-Half container jumped off the shelf.  When I went to grab it, I apparently nudged the gigantic Costco-sized jar of dill pickles.  They plunged to their death on the unforgiving slate floor. 

So, then I had to clean up the regular cooking mess PLUS the evil pickle disaster.

Did I mention that I don't even like dill pickles?

Currently. . .

I am:

• enjoying summer vacation.
• working on getting my home decluttered.
• eating no-bake cookies that are totally delish.
• drinking water and strawberry limeade.  ( Haven't had a DC all day!)
• hoping that it doesn't really take three weeks for my camera to get fixed.
• wishing that a bag of money would fall out of the sky!
• worrying about what direction my life should be headed.
• wanting to know.  Now.
• trying to relax and enjoy the journey.
• praying that my children will be strong and make correct choices.
• feeling happy.

Four Outs???

I love baseball. 

Memories of my childhood include laying in my bed listening to the Red Sox play as I drifted of to sleep on warm summer nights.  My whole childhood and youth were filled with seasons of Red Sox games because my parents were fans.  Ok. . . my mom was more of a fanatic.  She was normally quite mild mannered, so hearing her call the pitcher a bum and ranting about the manager-du-jour was pretty amusing.  During those years I was a fair weather fan who mostly watched the games because they were on- not because I was interested.

Then there were the dark years. . . I never watched a game during college or in my early years of marriage.  Colby and Parker had no effect on my tv viewing habits, but then came Reed.  I swear the child was born with a baseball in his hand!  He would watch games when he was just a little guy, but the whole thing got out of hand when we moved my mom to Utah.  The Alzheimer's was getting bad and one of the only things that settled her down was watching a game.  We immediately signed up for DirecTV's Extra Innings so that we would have games.  we also started recording games as a hedge against winter.  Little did we know we were creating a monster.

So. . . Reed finally got to play on the Red Sox this year.  He loves putting on the uniform- I think he thinks that he is heading off to play with Papelbon and Big Papi.  I got to the game late tonight, but just in time to see Reed snag this grounder and throw the runner out at first.  The thing that made me laugh was the wad of bubble gum he had going.  That reminded me of my brother Bruce.  He ALWAYS chewed bubble gum.

Any way. . .

About the four outs.  Our pitching was in the toilet.  We had walked the first three batters up, so the bases were loaded.  At this point we were ahead 7-3, but the parents were thinking that we were in big trouble.  The batter hit an in-field pop fly which was caught (out 1) and the ball was thrown to home plate where the catcher tagged the incoming runner. (out 2)  Then  the ball was thrown to third where the incoming runner was tagged (out 3) but he had actually been on 1st base and had passed the kid on second, so they were out anyway (out 4?).  It was crazy, but the game was saved!  We went on to win after the next inning.

Little League baseball just about kills you to watch.  There is not enough time spent on the basic rules and since the rules "change" every two years as the kids progress to a new age group, there is always plenty to learn.  But, there is never any lack of excitement!

I Finally Achieved the Perfect Weight!

It's not what you think, though. 

It has been a weekend of endings and beginnings.  Culminations and commencements.  (That sounds a little Jane Austen, doesn't it?)

Colby graduated on Friday from Lehi High School.  He had a rough start and still has horrendous handwriting, but he made it.  In fact, he was never in peril of NOT graduating (we had several of those students) so I was very happy.  He even has a half scholarship to UVU for next year, so things are looking good.

Friday night we had a graduation party for Colby.  (Thanks to all who came! We love that our friends support us since we have no family nearby!)  It's funny how one minute you have the party under control and the next you can't scoop ice cream fast enough!  What a blast.  Thanks to Scott and Cathrine for all their help!!!  (Ice cream has NOTHING to do with the weight issue, by the weigh way!)

Saturday was family portraits.  Close your eyes and imagine it.  We all go through it.  Why?  Because we are crazy.  I haven't seen the proofs yet, but I will share! 

This morning Colby was ordained to the office of an elder.  We were all bawling by the end of the blessing.  Bad enough that it would have been embarrassing to go to class, so we went home to get him ready for his flight to Arizona where he will march with The Academy Drum and Bugle Corps.

Time flew.  We managed to get everything done and stuff his duffel bag full.  As I looked down at the monstrosity sitting in my kitchen I mused that it was pretty darn heavy (probably over the 50 lb limit) but there was really nothing we could do about it.  Ed said that we would just pay the charge for it being too heavy and off we went.  We went through a LOT of tissues on the way to the airport.  I am pretty sure that Colby was dehydrated by the time we got there.  He hates goodbyes.  So do I.  I am always dehydrated from crying, so nobody thinks that is weird! 

We stopped at the Sky Cap and wrangled the duffel out of the back of the Suburban.  Ed swung it up onto the scale and I said, "How far over are we?"  The Sky Cap said, "You're OK."  with disbelief we all looked at the scale.  This is what it showed!  Finally, the perfect weight!

Guest Post- They Fought For Me

Ed posted this as a note on Facebook today.  I thought it was great and wanted to share and maintain it here on my blog.

Kaye and I are a bit unusual among our peer group. Our parents were older than our friends parents. They were WWII era men and women who knew personally the great sacrifice of war. My mother's father was killed in action in Bari, Italy while serving as as the First Officer on a cargo ship that was loaded with Mustard Gas Bombs. The last of these horrible weapons was recently incinerated at a facility on the edge of the west desert, just 30 miles or so from our home in Utah. Kaye's father was a Scout with an Army Calvary Division. We know very little of his war time service. Like many of his generation, he would not allow himself to be defined by his military service. He was a great man. He was wounded during the war but rarely spoke of the pain those wounds caused. He was part of an Army unit that arrived first on the scene at one of the horrific death camps established to eliminate the Jews. He returned home, completed an education and spent a career with the Boy Scouts and then a second career as a Junior High School shop teacher. Many spoke during his funeral but none remembered him for his service to our country. Those who spoke of his life spoke of more current acts of service. He committed his entire life to doing good.

My father was a radio operator and spent most of his time during WWII stationed in Souix Falls, S.D. training other young men to do the same. He was stationed for a time on Tinian Island in the South Pacific. An island that would remain unknown but for one event that guaranteed it a place in written history. Like Kaye's dad, WWII was a distant memory and he didn't discuss it ever. I can't ever recall him telling even a single anecdote from his years of service. He returned from the war and settled down to become a businessman, friend, volunteer, and father. He was a Mason and a Shriner. Like Kaye's parents, my Mom and Dad spent many hours involved in numerous service organizations. My Father worked tirelessly to support the cause of Shriner's Hospitals and the other charities of the Masonic Lodge that he was a member of. When he died, it was his Masonic friends who came in a seemingly endless procession to express to my Mother the help he had been to them personally.

These men fought for honor, for duty and for me. Like most of my generation, the sights and sounds of war are the ones we see on television newscasts. I took Kaye's Dad to see Saving Private Ryan many years ago. He remarked as we were leaving that he had crossed the beach about 14 days after the invasion first began. It was total chaos he said. And while the movie captured some visual imagery that provoked long forgotten memories, he said it was the sounds and smells that he could never explain. No one could.

Today we remember them. They fought for us.

An Evening of Excellence

When I was in high school, back in the days when the stars shone brighter because they were new, it was a big deal to get a scholarship.  Most students did not get scholarships to go to school and if you did get a scholarship it was probably a fairly small one.  I think that I got one scholarship for $500.00.  And I graduated 6th out of about 500 seniors in my class.

Tonight we attended the Evening of Excellence at Lehi High School where we witnessed over 2.5 MILLION dollars of scholarships being given out to the senior class.  I was just happy to be there because it wasn't that long ago that I wondered if Colby would make it through school- nevermind continue on to college.  But because of his involvement and excellence in music, he has been awarded two half scholarships for next year. . . one at Weber State University and one at Utah Valley University.  He also received the Semper Fidelis Award from the US Marine Corps for musical excellence.  (And I had absolutely nothing to do with any of these awards!)

After the ceremony Ed and I took Colby out to Winger's for a late dinner.  While we were there he thanked me for making his senior year so great.  he said that he had loved having me as a teacher.  I managed to not bawl, although I could not talk for a while.  So, what I am tonight is one proud mama.

Not Perfect

The secret is out.  I am not perfect.  And I can say that I don't want to be, but I do!  I HATE making mistakes.  I hate getting upset.  I REALLY hate making mistakes.

In my book one of the worst mistakes you can make when working with kids is forgetting someone's award at a awards event.  I know how much it hurts the kids and it hurts me just as much because I beat myself up about it.

Tonight I missed a jazz band student and a percussion student.  Aaaarrrrggghhhh!  That drives me absolutely crazy.  And then I got chided by a mother who thought that I had forgotten her child as well.  Unfortunately that child did not qualify, but I still feel badly.   Aaaaarrrgggghhhh!!!!!!!

And I am also mad that I let things get to me.  Another mistake.  That mom got to me, but not as much as the people who I have worked with for the last 10 months who now don't even bother to say "hi" to me because I am no longer part of the group.  What I have to say to them should not be in print.  Too rude.  I hope they don't need anything in the near future.  I'll forget in a couple of months because that is just how I am.  But I am ticked off tonight.

So. . . I guess I am perfect.  Perfectly disgusted.  With them.  And myself.