Thursday, May 31, 2012


There is a new comedy troupe online. Go here to view. I was watching episode three, with headphones on because Phil--the voice of reason--was on the phone, and he can't multitask like me, nor does he like noise. This comedy act isn't noise. It's clean funniness. I pretty much had the volume up full blast because the headphones were having an identity crisis--they thought they were ear plugs.

After I watched episode three, and before going on to the next one, I noticed that they have an album so I clicked on each of the songs to listen. (Listen to it here.) I listened to each song--there are eleven. 

"Could you turn it down?!" the voice of reason called from upstairs, in his not very reasonable voice. 


And then I realized, the headphones weren't even plugged in. They were ear plugs. 

Not even pretty darn funny.

Saturday, May 12, 2012


Spiders, flowers at the door, barking dogs, and pink hangers. That's what today can be summed up as. That, and an rather odd funeral about a woman who used to bring Scout-age boys to their knees with her killer handshake. I always thought it was demoralizing to the boys. And when they were grown, and back home from mission, she would do it again. The last time I shook hands with her she did it to me. It didn't matter that I winced.  She grinned.

Power or kindness, which would you choose? She chose power. And now she's gone, bringing people on the other side to their knees.

1. Today, Elizabeth said, "The spider in the bathroom broke her promise."

I looked at her as you might imagine: eyebrows raised, head forward, eyes widened.


"The spider--I named her Leggs McGuire--broke her promise. I told her if she stayed in her corner and minded her own business I wouldn't kill her."


"And she's gone, and now I don't know where she is, and I have to shower in there."

2. Today, one of my old Achievement Days girls brought me some flowers for Mother's Day. They are the giant alliums, Hillary calls them Dr. Suess plants. I wonder where she got them. I called her by the wrong name. I will write her a thank you. I will spell her name right, which is Faythe. I will tell her it was a sweet thing to do and that she looks nothing like her sister--the name I called her. What a dunce, I am, at times. And how sweet is Faythe.

3. Kramer went nuts when people came to the door today. I have told him he is to do two things: be warm and cute. He is warm and out of control. And he needs a bath

4. Phil came to the laundry room to take his shirts to the bedroom. "A pink hanger?" he said, "What am I going to do with a pink hanger?"

"If you don't like it, trade it for another one."

He muttered to himself all the way upstairs. I could hear the words "pink hanger" hanging in the air long after he closed the bedroom door.

Someone went to Heaven today, a dog went berserk (when you spell berserk wrong, spellchecker wants to change it to Beekeeper), my child--grown child--is afraid of a spider, I can't get all the emails I want to write done before I'm stupid with fatigue, and I don't want to have surgery on my knees.

Today I didn't get any pressing things done. And then there is that spider to watch out for. It's almost more than I can handle...for getting nothing done.

Friday, March 30, 2012

Hates more than spiders?

Today one of my children said, "I've known spiders I like better than him."

This is after this morning, when this child fairly screeched, "Aaaugh. Come and get this spider." And then after I got him (after missing once) the child
demanded to know if the spider was dead. I'd be worried if I were the object of this child's indifference.

PS I was going to put a picture of a spider here, but after looking at them for ten minutes I am creeped out and so I am sparing you the same experience.

Wednesday, January 11, 2012


On Monday I was at Trent and Michelle's house, supposedly helping her, but really just cooking dinner, telling her to sleep when the baby did, and loving those kids.

All morning I told Enoch to find me a story book and I would read to him. He had other ideas. So, when Levi came home from kindergarten, and after he had eaten lunch, I told him I would read to him if he could bring me some books.

"I'm going to write some words," he said, getting a small notebook. Then we had a half hour of, "how do you spell this, Grandma?"

Periodically I would say, "If you get me some books I'll read to you and Enoch."

Finally he had had enough. "Grandma," he said, with his hands on his hips. "When I get finished you can read
my words."

And so it was.

In his story there was a king and all manner of excitement, with words all run together and letters pointing backwards.

A five year old author. I'm expecting great things from Levi.

PS Baby Hyrum is number eight!