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Sunday, February 12, 2012

Heart

Yes, sweetie. For you I will spend 15 minutes wrestling 11 overtightened screws from a toy in order to fetch the beloved trinket you stuck inside it and could not get out. And I will spend the rest of my evening figuring out all the springs, levers and wires that sprung out of the toy when I opened its casing.

To fetch your plastic heart, I give you my real heart.

Wednesday, February 8, 2012

President Grant Says, "Hi, Ladies..."

Utah has been hosting a BAYOOTIFULL winter! The weather has been mild, and I have opened my windows many a days to let the fresh air permeate my house. As a result, I am in a really good mood this season and am giving away money!

If you would like a chance at winning a $50 bill from me, you'll want to go RIGHT HERE for details. I've opened up the drawing to any woman currently residing in the United States who thinks they would like an extra $50 to use in any fashion they desire.

These days have been a little unusual with work, so this is how I have been using $50 lately:
  • Babysitting so I can work, so I can rest, and so I can date. (My husband being the date.)(Most of the time.) (Just kidding, sweetie!)
  • A body massage. I love getting massages. Now, I just need to learn to shut up during sessions. It turns out there isn't much difference in how much I talk regardless of how much clothes I'm wearing.
  • Gasoline. Each fill-up costs about $50, where it used to be in the 30-dollar range. I feel really old every time I bring up that I can remember paying 90-something CENTS per gallon of gas. I sound just like old people who reminisce about penny candy.
  • Paper! Technically, it's color copies of documents and flyers, but when I look at the receipt, I think, "Fifty bucks. On paper."
  • Giveaways. I can do it because I have it. Isn't sharing, fun?

I recall when $50 meant eating for two weeks or not at all. Now, it's spent on paper that I GIVE AWAY. Is there something wrong with that picture? Not as long as I provide a value for others and I continue to be grateful for the blessings I receive!

What does $50 mean to you today?

Monday, January 23, 2012

Thanksgiving Kitchen Recap

Make pie crusts. Three-year-old asks to eat it, thinking I just made two large cookies. The only other time she recalls seeing the rolling pin in her young life is when we rolled out sugar cookies two weeks earlier.

Next day, pour in pumpkin pie mix, 3-year-old asks to eat it. I tell her, "Mommy has to cook it first."

"Ohhhh... cook?"

I put the pie in the fridge. She goes to bed.

Bake a cheesecake. Quickly put it in the fridge before I'm tempted to "pre-slice" it so I can steal a bite. Bake the pumpkin pie. Run upstairs and work on newsletter. Get sleepy. Zoned out when the smell of pumpkin pie hits my office. Not good. Smells only reach upstairs when food is burning. Run downstairs.

Timer shows it went off 45 minutes earlier. Pie is black. Hope for best. Pumpkin is pretty resilient. I tell myself that again.

Thanksgiving morning. Husband snored all night. I hit "snooze" too many times. I finally get up at the last minute because the turkey MUST go into the oven NOW in order for it to be ready when family arrives for our noon meal.

In the kitchen, I realize the turkey roasting pan I thought I bought was only a thought I had forgotten to follow through with. No pan, but the turkey MUST. GO. IN. NOW.

Position turkey on a shallow broiling pan and aluminum foil, creating faux sides. I treat the butterball with a Swedish massage using essential olive oil and various herbs and spices before tenting the foil over it and sliding it into its tanning booth. You pampered, pampered turkey.

I am pressed for time, what with needing to shower, prepare various side dishes, and set up tables, chairs, and china. I log onto Facebook and cruise my News Feed. Priorities, baby. Priorities.

One hour before everyone arrives and the kitchen is empty of tables, chairs, china, everything needful to eat without pretending to be at Medieval Times. As is tradition, my husband is nowhere in sight. Call his cell phone. He has gone for a leisurely drive in the car with the girls. I attempt to muffle the complaints in my mind as I lug tables in from the garage while wearing brown suede wedge shoes.

Tables set up. Tablecloths spread out. China, silver, and stemware positioned. Husband and kids show up. Girls grab for every piece dinnerware Mommy has "apparently" set out for them to play with. Frown lines form under my makeup. Husband ushers girls into living room.

Turkey finishes tanning. I tell the gobbler I am going to give it an acupuncture treatmet. He doesn't see a thing coming. He looks delicious.

Family shows up 30 minutes late. Foods are cooled. Tongues are bitten. Meal is served.

It was a perfect Thanksgiving.