a little bit of reinvention

Every time I get my haircut it gets shorter. Like - almost boy short. And then, I go nuts and color it blonder - like un-naturally blond-er. Like doesn't match my eyebrows anymore blond-ER. I'm addicted to changing my hair. The question is why? What am I trying to do? A couple things I suppose.

First, there is something about new hair (at least when it's good new hair) that completely changes ones outlook. A haircut for me is all about symmetry. The only time my goofy horse hair is even and symmetrical is right after a hair cut. No fly aways, no flips, no out of control bangs. It's all even-steven and balanced. You people out there have no idea how good that makes me feel - a good haircut brings order to my life. After my wonderfuly stylist blows my hair out every 8 weeks it's like I've got a new beginning.

Second - I guess it gives me hope. Is that corny or what? Hope that there is always a new horizon - always something new and maybe exciting around the corner. A new haircut - even if it's the same general style - is never a repeat. Sort of like snowflakes, right? I know that i'll always get something a little bit different and in the life of this working-from-home-stay-at-home-mom-and-domestic-servant a little bit of a diversion is good. Sometimes, it's all I get and I savor it.

Third - I love to have my hair washed and played with. It's one of the most relaxing things in the world for me. When I was a little girl, I would intentionally sit at the feet of my grandma on Sunday nights with a glimmer of hope that she would start playing with my hair. And when she did, I just curled up closer and was in absolute heaven. I even liked getting checked for lice by the PTA ladies with those giant q-tips in elementary school.

Are you still reading? Enough about my hair, right? Like, why doesn't she have anything else to write abotu? Well, it's been a slow week and, after i colored my hair last night I felt renewed - like life was a little bit more in balance.

And, I made this cool thing I read about on Makayla's blog the other day and I'm addicted. Willie and I have made one for everyone. They're awesome. Visit Wordle right now!

I love...

...warm summer days and swimming at grandmas...


...my white dishes. every time i eat off of them i feel like i'm in a restaurant...

...my almost finished basement....

...this website and also this website...

...home cooked dinners in appropriate portions. i've already lost 4 lbs on weight watchers...

...little boys who sleep through the night and husbands who empty the dishwasher in the morning...

...monkeys...

I never thought that this would happen again...

Elliott and I have been awake for 42 minutes. Yes, that's right. We both slept in (late night last night) until 9:30 on a Sunday morning.

I'm not sure if there's ever been anything more glorious than that!

Awesome.

Baby Friday: My favorite time of day

Elliott is a good napper. Getting him to sleep through the night is a team effort these days, but he's always been a good napper - and lately, an awesome napper regularly crashing out for over two hours.

That being said, my favorite time of day is when I hear "MOM!" being yelled at me after a good, long nap. I join him on the bed and the two of us just lay amongst the pillows, sometimes for 20 minutes or more. We play, and sing songs, and talk. This is the perfect time of day for the two of us. I can get Elliott to say words he won't say at any other time like: eyes, ears, nose, mouth, pillow, bed. Sometimes it feels like I'm chillin' with an adult, not my 18 month old baby boy.

Oh yes, my favorite time of day!

A Pioneer Story on Pioneer Day

(Note to family: If I get parts of this story wrong, leave me a comment so I can get it right)

200 years ago this year, an ancestor of mine, John Roe Moyle was born in England. As a young man, he joined the Mormon church and came to America - then across the plains to "this is the place" Utah! He opted not to settle in the Salt Lake Valley, instead moving to Alpine, Utah where he set up shop - his farm and his family.

When it was time to build the beautiful Salt Lake Temple, John was called upon to do some carvings on the outer face. This meant that he would have to get to Salt Lake from Alpine every week to do the work. So, every Monday morning he rose before dawn and walked 22 miles (I think that was the distance) to the temple site to carve the temple stone. Then, on Friday's, he would walk the 22 miles back to his home in Alpine and do all the chores that needed to be done and spend time with his family.

After several years of this weekly routine, John was innocently milking his family's dairy cow when it reared up and kicked him. The kick was directly to his leg, around his knee joint, and I'm pretty sure he knew instantly what that meant. John Roe Moyle had to have his leg amputated - with out any anesthetic. His family and most who knew him, I'm sure, assumed that his work on the temple was finished - but John showed them differently.

Once his recovery was in progress, John Roe Moyle carved himself a wooden leg because I'm sure he felt helpless as a husband, man, and servant of the Lord being unable to move and be productive. I can only imagine how much pain he was in - but he was a determined God fearing man. He strapped the leg on, practiced until he could walk, and then when the time was right - set off on his journey again. Walking 22 miles twice a week to the Temple to finish his work.

He is well known for doing most of the "Holiness to the Lord" carving on the east facade of the Salt Lake Temple.

My Monkey's, middle name is Moyle - to honor that dedicated trail blazer and I am so excited when I will be able to tell him this story when he's older.

18 months

One and a half! Did anyone ever think we'd make it to 1 and 1/2 years old? I'm not sure I did, but now that the Monkey is on the downward spiral to two years old, things seem to be on the up swing.



We probably could have titled the last month as "Mr. Personality" month or "Elliott finds his voice...a little bit" month. It seems that my kid, go figure, just doesn't know when to stop talking. I think he says "mom" and "dada" at least 256 times a day, usually when we're right in front of him. He is convinced that during the day, Ross is in the basement and is always in search of the guy who goes to work.

When Ross is gone, or anything/anyone is gone Elliott asks for them, see's they aren't around, he shrugs his shoulders and says in mumbled baby talk, "I don't know".



Elliott, my boy, you are a man on a mission. You must be busy all day long exploring, climbing, talking, watching, and interacting with others...and swiffering the kitchen floor and helping me fold the laundry. You are starting to sit at your little red table for snacks, and we've actually made it through all three hours of church - for the first time since you were a tiny baby, with out tears and fits.

This kid of mine makes me smile every single day because he is so full of life and happy to be around and hanging out with me. Yes, he loves grandparents and his Auntie Haley, Uncle Willie, and Cousin Meranda more than me most of the time, but it's okay. I still get to rock him to sleep at night and give him kisses when he isn't looking.



This month we went to the aviary and you screamed during the bird show scaring everyone around us. We've been swimming lots of times at Great Grandma's house and we went to Las Vegas. The road trip - though long - was the best for you. No more planes if we can help it, I think - you did so well in the car with all your toys, your own seat, and a dad who was willing to sit in the back with you and watch movies over and over again.



You can run, twirl in a circle, almost jump, drive your truck around the house, eat a hamburger all by yourself, and dip all your food in special sauces. Yes you are a dipper. Ranch dip, salsa, fry sauce, frosty ice cream treats...you are a dipper my boy. You don't care about the combination of foods or how messy you get. Most of the time it makes me gag, but you seem to enjoy yourself so I just won't look.



You have finally added the sound of a monkey to your animal menagerie and you do this strange chicken thing with your arms. When I get "mad" at you, we've got a little routine where I shake my fist and say "see this! See this! Pow, right in the kisser"...at which time you pound your fists together and "punch" yourself in the face. You also have developed a secret handshake involving the slapping of five, knuckles, and some crazy elbow action.



As usual, you keep me on my toes and I love you lots and lots. Even if you don't sleep. But, we're working on that!

Can someone explain this for me?

The Monkey went to bed last night at 10:30. The second I got him down (on my third try) I quite literally ran to my room and jumped in bed.

He was awake, screaming bloody murder, at 12:15. Ross got up with him, and he kept screaming. I got up at 1 am to relieve Ross. Around 1:20 or so in the am I got him to sleep, put him in bed and Elliott started to scream. I just left him, screaming, for 2 HOURS!

Around 3:30, as he was finally starting to stop screaming, Ross had a dream that he was crying so he got up to "rescue" him. Then the whole process started all over again.

Elliott was awake, screaming, from 12:15-5:30 in the morning.

What is going on?

Do other kids do this?

What should we do?

Help, internets, help!

The Police...or, my 13 year old brother now knows what marijuana smells like

The evening last night spanned three generations. We went to a concert with some friends (thanks for going Jared and Tara) and some family - my dad, my sister and her husband, and my brother. We saw the Police. I've always dreamed of seeing the Police in concert. If I had a list of, like, top 100 things to do before I'm old and crotchety, last night was one of them.

I've seen Gordon Sumner, including last night, 5 times - 4 of which have been with my dad, which is cool. Last night, we introduced "baby bwuder" to the Stinger and so much more.



The crowd, as with most concert crowds, pretty tame, a bit cooky and diverse and shirtless...


and with most outdoor venues - very drunk! I can deal with drunk, don't care if you're drunk, but please, PLEASE...don't touch me when you're drunk, stand too close behind me all sweaty after you've taken your shirt off drunk, and throw your empty cup at me drunk. Also, after you've been toking up on your favorite illegal substance, please don't run up behind me, touch me on the shoulder, and then run away laughing. Also, don't break dance. Drunk and stoned, plus some wicked spinning moves just makes for a dangerous cocktail.

And, if you're my dad's neighbor, you probably shouldn't get so drunk that you have to be escorted out of the concert by THREE security guards because you can't walk. But, we'll save that story for another day.

There were some groovy dancers (sorry the video is sideways...anyone know how to rotate an .avi file for free?)


And oh yeah - the band! We skipped the opening act and, to just speak for myself, had a wicked awesome time. The Police still have it - even if "it" is a tad arthritic and a bit slower that it probably used to be. They sang some classics, let the crowd sing along, and put on a great show. After one and a half encores however, it was time to hit the road and head for home.



We had fun. Willie was a bit tired after a week of scout camp, but he soldiered on like a real trooper - even when we walked for miles after the show to find our ride home.

I love the Stinger, by the way. He's the same age as my dad, and he still rocks! I think that he was wearing a leotard, or maybe some sort of giant body sock to prevent blood clots, but whatever.

Too much information

We got home from Vegas pretty late last night. Once the bags were mostly in the house The Monkey and I went to get the mail. As I was sorting in the house we got two items that didn't belong to us.

August's issue of "Playboy" magazine and an LDS youth magazine, "The New Era". They were both supposed to go to the same address. Which WAS NOT our address.

I'm embarassed.

Bright light city gonna set my soul on fire!

Vegas, Baby! Don't care for the city much, but when work is paying your way to attend a conference (BlackBoard World), you are staying at a nice hotel (the Palazzo at the Venitian) and they gave your room away because you arrived late so you got bumped (for one night only) to a suite (internet connection to slow to upload my "suite" video), then Vegas isn't quite so bad.







I'm on a break from my conference, have low blood sugar (thank you weight watchers, I lost 2.5 lbs last week) and just wanted to blog.



Our room last night had three beds - we ended up messing up all three of them and finally slept in the King - all three of us. Interesting night - late night, and the monkey is already down for a nap. Oh, the joys of a baby on a schedule!

Baby Friday?

Many apologies to those of you that depend on baby Friday to make it through your weekend. I totally spaced it so because we're going on a trip today and I probably won't be blogging much, here's the Tuesday edition of baby Friday.

Elliott has learned to say "no". But, the sweet monkey doesn't say it forcefully or in a negative manner. It's so sweet, with a little bit of whine and sarcasm with it. Every time he tells me "no" I cannot help but smile. The best is when he's oh, let's say eating his lunch and shoveling chicken nuggets into his mouth. I'll say, "Elliott, do you want another chicken nugget?" and he says, sweetly, "noooo", with his mouth full and his toothpick ready to poke another bite.

Adendum to my frustration...

I've had the evening to think about it.

If you want to be a mean anonymous poster, that's fine. You have the right. I'll let you.

I just reserve the right to censor you.

Comment moderation is now in full force.

No more Anonymous comments

Alrighty then.

I'm tired of people who make anonymous comments, except my dad, because he doesn't have a blogger account and he writes in ALL CAPITAL LETTERS so I know it's him. It's pretty lame, ridiculous, and pathetic for someone to have the guts to post on another's blog, especially if it's snippy and snotty, and do so anonymously - especially about a book. Come one, maybe if something written here were actually controverisal, I'd get it, but a really bad book review? Get over yourself! Because of that, and the all around grumpy day I'm having today, this blog will no longer be accepting the comments of those who are too chicken to claim them!

Sorry Dad!

The end.

And...whomever you are that commented on the P and P review. Shut up! Jane Austen is not the be all end all of literature and people are allowed not to like the novel. You don't need to question my ability to read and comprehend literature. I dare say I am a pretty good "reader" and have quite the diverse catalog of fiction and non-fiction that I have read over the years.

Are you the same person who tried to rip me a new one when I didn't like the DaVinci Code movie?

And guess what...there are some other pretty well known authors who didn't like Austen either. Here's what a few of them had to say.

To quote Ralph Waldo Emerson, from his journal, in 1861:
I am at a loss to understand why people hold Miss Austen's novels at so high a rate, which seem to me vulgar in tone, sterile in artistic invention, imprisoned in their wretched conventions of English Society, without genius, wit, or knowledge of the world. Never was life so pinched and narrow...Suicide is more respectable.

Or, Mark Twain, from Following the Equator, 1897:

Jane Austen's books, too, are absent from this library. Just that one omission alone would make a fairly good library out of a library that hadn't a book in it.

Or, Charlotte Bronte in a letter to George Lewis in 1848:
I had not seen P&P till I had read that sentence of yours, and then I got the book. And what did I find? An accurate daguerreotyped portrait of a commonplace face; a carefully fenced, highly cultivated garden, with neat borders and delicate flowers; but no glance of a bright vivid physiognomy, no open country, no fresh air, no blue hill, no bonny beck. I should hardly like to live with her ladies and gentlemen, in their elegant but confined houses. These observations will probably irritate you, but I shall run the risk.

Book Review: Pride and Prejudice

In May I was at Barnes and Noble with my sister. We were on a dinner date for my birthday and while browsing the books I was drawn to the "summer reading" table. Having never read a Jane Austen novel in my life, and seeing Pride and Prejudice on the table I decided to give the "classic" a go.

Two months later I finally finished it and I dare say it was one of the most boring books I've ever read in my life. It was long and drawn out. Nothing happened. Ever! Too many characters and most of the time I felt a bit lost.

I finished the book more out of determination than interest. Haven't struggled to read something for a long time and this book was a challenge. I know this period of English history was very proper, but it's hard for me to believe people spoke so. No wonder all they did was dance and play cards.

There were a few parts of the book I did find amusing. Mr. Collins was funny and a nice piece of comic relief and a few comments about relationships that were dead on, like this one:
We can all begin freely - a slight preference is natural enough; but there are very few of us who have heart enough to be really in love without encouragement. In nine cases out of ten, a woman had better show more affection than she feels. Bingley likes your sister undoubtedly, but he may never do more than like her if she does not help him on...

Once I finally finished the book, quite an accomplishment in and of itself, I figured I needed to watch one of the dozens of film recreations of the story. I heard that the BBC mini series was the best adaptation, but I'd already spent 2 months on the book and I wasn't interested in 4 + hours on the movie.

Ross rented the 2005 version for me, it being only 2:35 in length. I watched it Saturday night, by myself. It pretty much sucked, like the book. Bad acting, bad alterations to the original story, and a super stupid ending. Want to see it? Here it is. It wasn't in the book.




I get that a director wants to take certain liberties in the creation of a film, but adding an alternative ending to a "classic"? Pretty lame.

All it did was remind me of this movie ending, which, by the way, I love.

Sixteen Candles - Final Scene - Movie Ending - Funny video clips are a click away

Mr. Darcy was no Jake Ryan.

I'm already impressed

On Tuesday morning I joined Weight Watchers (online). I've been exercising consistently for 30 minutes or more a day since the end of April and I'm not losing weight...not that I'm exercising to lose weight, just to maintain really and try to be a bit more healthy. I don't want to be that mom. You know the one - she can't run and play with her kid or keep up with him because she's too out of shape and fat.

Anyway, I joined on Tuesday. I signed up for a 3 month deal and at the end of 3 months I'll see where I'm at and whether or not I want to continue paying money every month for the service. However, in three full days of participating in the program (I'm doing the points instead of the core) I can hardly believe what's happening. Having a program to stick to has already done wonders for my food habits, meal portion size and blood sugar numbers. I've needed almost no insulin in the last three days at my meal times. This is huge! Really, it is - you have no idea. The times I've shot up before lunch or dinner, using my regular dosage system has left me, two hours later, with LOW numbers. I haven't seen anything over 120 for three days. Amazing.

That, combined with: my new food journal, my 40 min. morning walk, planning meals and snacks ahead of time, constantly checking my points and totally limiting my chocolate might actually do me some good. This is just the regime I need, I think. Plus - knowing that I forked over a bunch of money is a good motivating factor, too.

Why didn't I sign up a year ago?

It's so refreshing to know that there's hope for me yet.

a sometimes wish

There is something about California that is always magical - the heat, the ocean, the beach, the surfers. I'd never want to live there, but I always want and love to visit.

At Disneyland, my mom saw "the family". All were tall, blond, tan, surfer-esque. As mom and the boys walked ahead, dad was behind belting out at the top of his lungs "I wish they all could be California girls..."

After she told me about the sighting I turned to her and said, "How come we weren't that California family? Sometimes I wish we were."

"I don't know and me, too," she replied.

Summertime

I love summer and all that it means. I love the hot, the snow-shacks, the long nights...all of it. Even though I have to work and be the mom these days, summer is just the greatest. I've got babysitters whenever I want them and visitors all the time. The most relaxing time of the year for sure.



When I was a kid - the best part of summer was swimming at my grandma's house - every single day and sometimes, most nights. It's beyond me how lucky us grandkids were (and still are) to have our own private pool in my grandma's back yard. Growing up it was like having the best kept secret in the entire world. Just for us kids - our oasis in the backyard. My grandma would do "open-plunge" when I was little. Once a week she'd let the neighborhood kids come and swim. I spent the entire time, every week in the house - usually sitting on top of the washing machine, waiting for my grandma to blow her whitstle and all the kids to go home - you see - to say that us grandkids were spoiled is an understatment. We always wanted the pool to ourselves and you never knew what would be left in the pool once the neighborhood was done swimming. Usually just clumps of hair - but one time - yup! That was the end of open plunge, when someone pooped in the pool.

Some of my best memories are having the pool all to myself. No one else wanted to swim and it'd just be me and my grandma - she sitting on the deck and me floating around by myself.

There isn't much these days that brings me greater joy than taking my water lovin' monkey to the pool - I love that he likes the water and that my grandma is around to watch him swim and splash. And, a day at the pool wouldn't be complete without some tears - from Elliott because my mom (his grandma) threw him into the pool. She's done it to every kid that has ever swam at grandma's and today, she did it to Elliott. He wasn't pleased, but he survived.

The best part of swimming at grandma's was and always is....ice cream!

As soon as your out of the water - you head to the freezer for a delicious treat. If it's a big group of kids, you get the creamies - if it's just you and grandma? We break out the dove bars!

Elliott has embraced the ice cream tradition - ready and willing to scarf something down as quickly as possible. He also loves playing at his great-gramda's house. I do, too. What could be better.

A sure fire way to start clearing up a sinus infection

home made, originally uploaded by bookemdano1978.

Yesterday morning I made salsa. It's my sister's recipie thought I'm not sure how true I am to her original, but it's pretty wicked awesome - if you like salsa. The best part - it uses canned tomatoes so no need to worry about trying to find fresh one and oh you know, dying or something.

I higly recommend you make this salsa as opposed to purchasing anything at the store in a can or plastic container. It is pretty quick to throw together and delicious to the taste.

Salsa:
1 20 oz. can diced tomatoes
2 bunches green onions
1 large white onion
3-5 serrano chilies
1 bunch cilantro
pinch of sugar
salt to taste

Open the can of tomatoes and throw the contents into a blender. Blend as smooth or chunky as you desire. Add a bit of sugar and some salt. Put the tomatoes into the bowl you will store your salsa in.

In a small pan of boiling water add the serrano's. Boil them for 7 minutes and remove from water.

While the chilies are boiling, dice your white onion (a red onion could be interesting) and green onions and add them to the tomatoes.

Wash, dry and chop up the cilantro. Add that to the bowl.

Once the chilies have boiled and cooled cut them open to remove the seeds...unless you like things really interesting of course. I however, don't and remove the seeds. Depending on your level of bravery you can either do a rough chop of the chilies and add them to the bowl or blend them so that you get essence of serrano istead of mouthful. Add the serrano to the rest of the mix.

Chill in the fridge for a few hours.
Eat.
Enjoy.
Clear your collective sinuses.
You're welcome.

Baby Friday: Hey, I've got a great idea, let's share some virus' with each other

The Monkey is finally on the mend. No more fever, more energy and he's finally starting to eat a little bit and drink. Drinking mean no more mouth sores - yeah!

Only one problem - being in such close proximity with such a sick kid has made Ross and myself two very sick parents - a sinus infection each. The kid has been sleeping through the night (10pm-6 am...yeah) but the mom and the dad? No sleep. Nada, nothing.

How do you sleep when you cannot breathe? When not even 45 min. in a steaming hot shower give you any relief from your congestion? When you sinuses are so plugged that it makes your jaw ache?

We've got antibiotics and more cold/sinus pills than a pharmacy.

Happy 4th of July! Once again, this holiday ROCKS!

I love...

...cherry chip cake with cherry flavored icing...

...glow in the dark eyebrows that mean summer is really here...


...a from-the-heart pick-me-up from a new friend...


...an uncle's true devotoin...


...my new camera bag that has room to grow...


...my new curtains...


...knowing that i'm too busy this year to celebrate my least favorite holiday...


...This version of this song...


...thinking about watching this movie this weekend, even if I have to do it through youtube and remembering that time, oh, half my life, when my mom wouldn't let me watch it...