In an attempt to make it more fun around here I found a few games to put under the tree.
Anna got Connect 4, which proved surprisingly popular with both girls. Not to mention their Dad.
Katie got Boggle -- pronounced "boring" until I talked them into actually playing the game with me.
We played round after round as the snow fell quietly outside.
This is not a fantasy.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Impressions of Insomnia
Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night/wee hours of the morning and cannot get back to sleep.
It happened this morning.
And even though it is my favorite time to clean, what I usually do is catch up on computer work. Because any noise I make could wake up the kids. And we don't want that.
One time when I couldn't sleep I went to the gym. In case you are wondering, there's not much going on at the gym at 4 am. No competition for the equipment at all. It feels weird. You park alone. You have to ring a bell to be let in. You walk down an empty hallway and up stairs, pushing aside thoughts of how it is the perfect time for nefarious plots to unfold...
...this is why I don't watch scary movies or TV shows. Or creepy ads for either. And have you ever noticed that The Twilight Zone is on a lot in the middle of the night? Freaky.
Sometimes my insomnia bouts take hold and last for days. Or weeks. Not so much anymore, but it happened on my mission once right as I was training my first greenie. She was a real firecracker. I was sleep-deprived.
I'm pretty sure she thought I was a slacker because, among other things, I couldn't always shake myself awake after two or three hours of sleep. It's not like I slept 'til noon. Or even eight. But I remember one day I went into the kitchen for companionship study a half hour late to find that she'd already done it by herself (couldn't flip her schedule and do personal study first?) and that now she was going to shower and do her hair.
That was rough. She did have really nice hair.
The second greenie I had was polar opposite -- she wanted to sleep all the time. I let her nap while I made lunch, like my trainer had done for me. That first month I was so tired. Jet lag without recovery and a constant barrage of all things foreign wore me out.
At a dinner appointment my first week I fought to keep my eyes open and at some point became aware that I had briefly nodded off over my soup.
I don't think the family noticed, but I'm pretty sure my trainer did. She didn't say anything.
There was one member of the branch who picked up on my general stupor. To be fair, he spoke really fast and kind of slurred his words and was legitimately harder to understand than most people. I distinctly recall the sensation of having a three-second delay in my head. I would eventually catch the gist of what he said, but even that took a moment to register.
This man thought I was stupid. I remember him coming up to us one Sunday, ripping off a stream of supersonic Italian to my companion and then looking over at me and questioning my mental or language ability. Maybe both.
After my first month in Italy I was inner-city transferred. Then again my second month. And then again. So although I had lived in the same apartment for months, I was on my third area and companionship when transfers came around and I got the news I was being transferred once again. This time I was returning to my original area. Three areas and four companionships in five months equals a lot of... learning opportunities.
After bouncing around the city most of the summer, that first area where I had mostly just followed my trainer felt sort of familiar, but it was almost like being some place new.
Also new was the discovery of how much my Italian had improved.The ward member who doubted me still spoke really fast. Still mushed out his words. To my immense satisfaction, I could understand him and appropriately respond without the tape-delay. After so many changes, this was a good one.
Of course, he continued to speak to me like I was mentally slow for the entire month.
I like to think that if I had had a second chance with my firecracker greenie things would have been different. Not even counting the insomnia, my time with her came at one of the hardest points in my mission. Still, I could have handled things better. Or at least differently.
I still have regrets.
But they don't keep me up at night.
It happened this morning.
And even though it is my favorite time to clean, what I usually do is catch up on computer work. Because any noise I make could wake up the kids. And we don't want that.
One time when I couldn't sleep I went to the gym. In case you are wondering, there's not much going on at the gym at 4 am. No competition for the equipment at all. It feels weird. You park alone. You have to ring a bell to be let in. You walk down an empty hallway and up stairs, pushing aside thoughts of how it is the perfect time for nefarious plots to unfold...
...this is why I don't watch scary movies or TV shows. Or creepy ads for either. And have you ever noticed that The Twilight Zone is on a lot in the middle of the night? Freaky.
Sometimes my insomnia bouts take hold and last for days. Or weeks. Not so much anymore, but it happened on my mission once right as I was training my first greenie. She was a real firecracker. I was sleep-deprived.
I'm pretty sure she thought I was a slacker because, among other things, I couldn't always shake myself awake after two or three hours of sleep. It's not like I slept 'til noon. Or even eight. But I remember one day I went into the kitchen for companionship study a half hour late to find that she'd already done it by herself (couldn't flip her schedule and do personal study first?) and that now she was going to shower and do her hair.
That was rough. She did have really nice hair.
The second greenie I had was polar opposite -- she wanted to sleep all the time. I let her nap while I made lunch, like my trainer had done for me. That first month I was so tired. Jet lag without recovery and a constant barrage of all things foreign wore me out.
At a dinner appointment my first week I fought to keep my eyes open and at some point became aware that I had briefly nodded off over my soup.
I don't think the family noticed, but I'm pretty sure my trainer did. She didn't say anything.
There was one member of the branch who picked up on my general stupor. To be fair, he spoke really fast and kind of slurred his words and was legitimately harder to understand than most people. I distinctly recall the sensation of having a three-second delay in my head. I would eventually catch the gist of what he said, but even that took a moment to register.
This man thought I was stupid. I remember him coming up to us one Sunday, ripping off a stream of supersonic Italian to my companion and then looking over at me and questioning my mental or language ability. Maybe both.
After my first month in Italy I was inner-city transferred. Then again my second month. And then again. So although I had lived in the same apartment for months, I was on my third area and companionship when transfers came around and I got the news I was being transferred once again. This time I was returning to my original area. Three areas and four companionships in five months equals a lot of... learning opportunities.
After bouncing around the city most of the summer, that first area where I had mostly just followed my trainer felt sort of familiar, but it was almost like being some place new.
Also new was the discovery of how much my Italian had improved.The ward member who doubted me still spoke really fast. Still mushed out his words. To my immense satisfaction, I could understand him and appropriately respond without the tape-delay. After so many changes, this was a good one.
Of course, he continued to speak to me like I was mentally slow for the entire month.
I like to think that if I had had a second chance with my firecracker greenie things would have been different. Not even counting the insomnia, my time with her came at one of the hardest points in my mission. Still, I could have handled things better. Or at least differently.
I still have regrets.
But they don't keep me up at night.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Toffee Meringues
Each year when the Dallas Morning News publishes the result of its cookie contest I check out the winners, think about trying a few, and then toss the paper.
Only, this year I actually tried one of the winning recipes. And it is fabulous, dahling. Easy. Gluten free. 40 Calories.
Did I mention easy? These are a cinch to whip up. The only catch is you have to leave them in the oven for an hour after their baking time, so that's it for baking for a while.
Of course, it also means you can walk away for an hour (or more, really) without worry. I doubled the recipe and squeezed the whole batch onto three sheets. I have a convection now (joy!) so I can do that kind of thing.
The first time I made these John said they were the best meringues he's ever had. The second time I made them he said they are one of the best cookies he's ever had.
They're not exactly pretty, but their light texture and color provide a nice contrast to more traditional cookies on a buffet or goodie plate. So just try them.
Here is the recipe:
Toffee Meringue Drops
3 egg whites, at room temperature
1/8 tsp. cream of tartar
1/2 c. sugar
1/2 c. finely chopped toasted pecans
1/2 c. English toffee bits (sold next to chocolate chips)
Preheat oven to 250 F. Line cookie sheets with parchment paper.
In large bowl, beat egg whites and cream of tartar on medium speed until soft peacks form.
Gradually add the sugar, one tablespoon at a time, beating on high until stiff, glossy peaks form and the sugar is dissolved, about 6 minutes.
Gently fold in the nuts and toffee bits.
Drop by tablespoon 2 inches apart onto the lined cookie sheets.
Bake 25-30 minutes, until set and dry. Turn off the oven and leave the cookies in for 1 hour, to finish drying.
Remove sheets from oven and continue to cool on wire racks.
Store in an airtight container.
Makes 2 dozen (or more).
FYI, Dolores Massey of Wills Point submitted this cookie to the contest. Thanks, Dolores!
Only, this year I actually tried one of the winning recipes. And it is fabulous, dahling. Easy. Gluten free. 40 Calories.
Did I mention easy? These are a cinch to whip up. The only catch is you have to leave them in the oven for an hour after their baking time, so that's it for baking for a while.
Of course, it also means you can walk away for an hour (or more, really) without worry. I doubled the recipe and squeezed the whole batch onto three sheets. I have a convection now (joy!) so I can do that kind of thing.
The first time I made these John said they were the best meringues he's ever had. The second time I made them he said they are one of the best cookies he's ever had.
They're not exactly pretty, but their light texture and color provide a nice contrast to more traditional cookies on a buffet or goodie plate. So just try them.
Here is the recipe:
Toffee Meringue Drops
3 egg whites, at room temperature
1/8 tsp. cream of tartar
1/2 c. sugar
1/2 c. finely chopped toasted pecans
1/2 c. English toffee bits (sold next to chocolate chips)
Preheat oven to 250 F. Line cookie sheets with parchment paper.
In large bowl, beat egg whites and cream of tartar on medium speed until soft peacks form.
Gradually add the sugar, one tablespoon at a time, beating on high until stiff, glossy peaks form and the sugar is dissolved, about 6 minutes.
Gently fold in the nuts and toffee bits.
Drop by tablespoon 2 inches apart onto the lined cookie sheets.
Bake 25-30 minutes, until set and dry. Turn off the oven and leave the cookies in for 1 hour, to finish drying.
Remove sheets from oven and continue to cool on wire racks.
Store in an airtight container.
Makes 2 dozen (or more).
FYI, Dolores Massey of Wills Point submitted this cookie to the contest. Thanks, Dolores!
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Fifteen Years
That's how long I've been a Mrs.
And despite my disinclination to public displays of loverly affection I thought I'd share a few of the reasons John Cliff got me to marry him, even without an official proposal.
He hates it when I say that...
Back in olden times, when I was a young woman in the Laurel class at church we made a list of qualities we'd like in our future spouse. I'm not sure why this activity made me wince, but it did and still does. I did it anyway (and I think I've inflicted it on similarly enthusiastic young ladies). Sorry.
Anyway, fast forward several years, a mission to Italy and tossed ring later and I'm engaged. At some point I came across that list and was not wholly surprised to see John in nearly every point, right down to "blue-green eyes and dark hair."
Eerie. But nice.
Which is the number one reason I married John: he is nice. He knows who my friends are and actually talks to them when they call or stop by. He likes my family.
He likes movies with stupid guy humor that make me crazy. He goes to those movies alone but will come see a chick flick with me.
He likes Indian food. He makes lasagna with bechamel for me.
He is smart. And cute. And funny.
He laughs at my dorky jokes. He makes dorkier jokes and knows it. He starts hollering like a maniac before the roller coaster even moves, just for fun.
He is equally comfortable in theme parks and museums. He doesn't mind touring historic houses. He likes beautiful things.
He thinks I'm beautiful.
Happy Anniversary...
And despite my disinclination to public displays of loverly affection I thought I'd share a few of the reasons John Cliff got me to marry him, even without an official proposal.
He hates it when I say that...
Back in olden times, when I was a young woman in the Laurel class at church we made a list of qualities we'd like in our future spouse. I'm not sure why this activity made me wince, but it did and still does. I did it anyway (and I think I've inflicted it on similarly enthusiastic young ladies). Sorry.
Anyway, fast forward several years, a mission to Italy and tossed ring later and I'm engaged. At some point I came across that list and was not wholly surprised to see John in nearly every point, right down to "blue-green eyes and dark hair."
Eerie. But nice.
Which is the number one reason I married John: he is nice. He knows who my friends are and actually talks to them when they call or stop by. He likes my family.
He likes movies with stupid guy humor that make me crazy. He goes to those movies alone but will come see a chick flick with me.
He likes Indian food. He makes lasagna with bechamel for me.
He is smart. And cute. And funny.
He laughs at my dorky jokes. He makes dorkier jokes and knows it. He starts hollering like a maniac before the roller coaster even moves, just for fun.
He is equally comfortable in theme parks and museums. He doesn't mind touring historic houses. He likes beautiful things.
He thinks I'm beautiful.
Happy Anniversary...
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Instead of Cleaning
This morning I spent some time printing out the little quarter-sheet Cliff Notes that will accompany our plain and boring Christmas cards. I used vellum, so I had to feed them into the printer slowly and monitor their progress because it has a tendency to slip and smear.
I needed to pick up the house, do laundry, and work on the MFPs (most filthy places)so I could get started on holiday baking for friends and neighbors and school staff before Friday.
While nursing the vellum I poked around my favorite blogs, grateful to have uninterrupted time in the office and pleased with the new cushy chair in front of the computer. I eventually found myself captivated by the story of plane crash survivor Stephanie Nielson, beautifully written by Jaimee Rose for an Arizona newspaper. And I couldn't stop reading.
I cried as I read how her daughter couldn't look at her scarred face in the hospital. How, once home, she bargained with this most-precious little girl to try, maybe only look at her toe today.
How she watched her little boy cling to his aunt and cry for "Mom" to come back when her sister left.
How slowly things began to heal.
I read of her pain, frustration, anger, and joy. How she marked the anniversary of her plane crash by painfully hiking Y mountain... in large to show her children she could do it. I joyed in her victory, and sorrowed for the long road of healing she still has ahead of her.
And I felt pretty small, worrying about my plain Christmas cards.
And MFPs.
And cookies.
But I also felt overwhelming gratitude for my children and the blessing to care for them in a body that is far from perfect, but whole.
You can read her story here.
I needed to pick up the house, do laundry, and work on the MFPs (most filthy places)so I could get started on holiday baking for friends and neighbors and school staff before Friday.
While nursing the vellum I poked around my favorite blogs, grateful to have uninterrupted time in the office and pleased with the new cushy chair in front of the computer. I eventually found myself captivated by the story of plane crash survivor Stephanie Nielson, beautifully written by Jaimee Rose for an Arizona newspaper. And I couldn't stop reading.
I cried as I read how her daughter couldn't look at her scarred face in the hospital. How, once home, she bargained with this most-precious little girl to try, maybe only look at her toe today.
How she watched her little boy cling to his aunt and cry for "Mom" to come back when her sister left.
How slowly things began to heal.
I read of her pain, frustration, anger, and joy. How she marked the anniversary of her plane crash by painfully hiking Y mountain... in large to show her children she could do it. I joyed in her victory, and sorrowed for the long road of healing she still has ahead of her.
And I felt pretty small, worrying about my plain Christmas cards.
And MFPs.
And cookies.
But I also felt overwhelming gratitude for my children and the blessing to care for them in a body that is far from perfect, but whole.
You can read her story here.
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Doctor Who? or Embrace Your Inner Nerd
Does anyone else watch Doctor Who on BBC America? The new doctor is really cute. I mean cool.
Except he is not going to be the new doctor much longer. Three little episodes left, and then - poof - it's regeneration time and some other actor will step into his time-and-space-traveling shoes.
Are you still with me?
I've checked out the next new doctor online and must say I am skeptical. I don't love the new logo, either, despite it's clever Tardisness.
But considering I only began watching Doctor Who last year, I'm not on very firm ground when it comes to expressing opinions about the show. It's older than I am.
The current, tenth, doctor (David Tennant) is the only one I've really watched. I have vague memories of fourth doctor Tom Baker and the ridiculous scarf, so I guess my Dad was a fan.
From what I gather, these two doctors are the favorites. Who knew?
Tee hee.
Anyway, you can find all you need to know about Doctor Who and then some here. Poke around a bit and see what you learn. I especially enjoy the invitation to "join the Whoniverse."
Might as well sign up for a Trek conference...
Yep, I'm Old
Last week I turned forty.
That's how old I am. Not that 40 is old.
But you know what I mean.
That's how old I am. Not that 40 is old.
But you know what I mean.
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