LAST NIGHT'S PHOTOS

Here's the photos Blogger refused to load last night. The kids all chose a bouncy ball when it was time to go home. Some put them on their heads.

Some just smiled a million dollar smile.

Some covered their faces so...

...I had to retake, but Butterfly had already flitted off.

Some had coats on their heads and some squinted. I retook that one too but the next one...

...wasn't any better.
The oldest of the group, she's getting tall and beautiful.

And now it's time for me to go on a bouncy ball buying expedition as the jar is getting empty. After dinner we hardly had any dessert eaters, they all trooped downstairs to play.

Here is Kraut--the daddy of all these great kids--with the baby of the group. He helps his dad read the comics.

And the momma--The Soap Queen--who loves all her children with an intensity that all mothers can understand.

Thanks, Kraut and Soap Queen for bringing seven of my favorite short people to dinner.

DINNER AT GRANDMA'S

I haven't had any of the kids over for dinner since Christmas! I'm a horrible Mom. So today we had Kraut and The Soap Queen and their seven munchkins over. It was nice to have them all here. The kids were delightful and when they left I gave them all a bouncy ball. Here's some photos of their choices.

Oops, blogger is being obstinate. Photos tomorrow. That is if blogger is finished with it's snit.

Church was wonderful today. I will post some highlights, great tidbits, on Starlight later in the week, hopefully.

I feel so good after attending church. I love it. This was not always the case. When the kids were little we were ALWAYS hunting someone's shoes and by the time we got to church everyone was cranky. I could have eliminated the problem by doing the smart thing--getting ready the night before--but the night before I never thought about it. So it went, shoeless kids and frustrated mom and dad. Now the kids are gone and probably have their own shoeless Sundays.

I'd give almost anything to have the kids back, hunting shoes and being cranky at church for just one Sunday. So, I'm going to bed and think of each of them, all clean and ready for church and I'm going to remember looking down the row and loving them so much it hurt. I still love them so much it hurts but tonight I'm going to remember them with cowlicks, shirts buttoned wrong, shoelaces untied, remembering them being bored and drawing on the back of the Sacrament Meeting program, turning the page of the Hymn book to find the right page. No matter what page it was on they would start at hymn #1 and turn each page until they got to the page, even if it was 157 or 312. I learned to memorize the hymns as I couldn't count on reading them, that's for sure.

Have a great week and I hope blogger is being nicer to all of you.

INTERNATIONAL DISTURBED PEOPLE'S DAY

I got an email today from Terri Weidman a totally crazy friend and the subject of the email said "International Disturbed People's Day." Why she thought I would be interested in such an email is beyond my comprehension. So I started plotting revenge thinking about it and decided she just wanted me to get a tiny peek into an alien world that I have no regular contact with. So I put the crazy glue and the chicken pluckers and the electric hand buzzers thoughts of tricking my crazy friend on the back burner and got back to serious business of looking for new educational movies on my queue at Netflix.

I clicked on a movie called "Sherlock Holmes' Smarter Brother" and added it to my queue--the description said things like "...a new level of absurdity"--which I can't even spell, and "literary farce." which sounds pretty much like an oxymoron to me. And since Gene Wilder and Marty Feldman are in it how I could go wrong? I mean, it's no "Gone With the Wind," but the title of that movie raises suspicion on several levels.

Then I see, since I ordered that movie, which Phil will shake his head in dismay watch with lively interest, Netflix recommends several others. Among them is "Twelve Chairs." Now the sound of chairs, and twelve of them, perks me right up.

Phil does not perk up at the word "chairs," having had that encounter with the disobedient wife great bargain hunting wife and her chair purchases. In fact, last week he kept asking, "Can I get rid of the four ugly black chairs in the garage yet?" And, if Kraut and The Soap Queen keep having kids I think we will need the four darling black chairs for family dinners, so I himmed and hawed and said, "Look, a flying saucer," to which he said something about if he knew then what he knows now he would be living in a different state, with a normal woman and an empty garage. He really didn't say that but we've lived together such a long time I can read the thoughts he doesn't have.

I see by reading the blurb about "The Twelve Chairs" that there were jewels hidden in one of them and so you never know, I could be providing a wild and irresponsible nice retirement for the two of us. Besides that. it is directed by Mel Brooks and has Dom DeLouise, two giants of serious movie productions.

Dom once wrote a cookbook called, EAT THIS, IT'LL MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER. I'll bet there are great recipes for cake in there. Now if that won't cure disturbed people, I don't know what will. I should buy a copy for my disturbed friend, Terri my friend for Christmas.

Then, because I might be interested in the "Twelve Chairs" Netflix suggested I might also be interested in "Vincent and Theo," which is the story of Vincent Van Gogh. The final line in the description is, "Vincent's disturbed mental state worsens, and both brothers sink into despair."

Now I ask you, do I seem like a person who wants to watch two brother's sink into despair? If you answered, "yes," then give me your email address and I will forward you an email with the subject "International Disturbed People's Day." It will be helpful to you, I'm sure of it.

And if it's not enough, come on over, we'll pull up a couple of chairs and have a good visit and it will be fun. We'll invite Terri and a couple of other mentally disturbed friends and I'll make cake. It will be Dom's recipe. You'll love it.

PS. Here are the darling black chairs that my equally darling husband is trying to get me to give away.

And these are Mom and Dad's chairs from their chrome kitchen set that is now practically an antique.

And these are the "Chair Fairy" chairs.

And just in case you think I have totally stupid things in the garage well, lookit here. A drawer full of onions and a bike I haven't ridden since 1974--when I was a four-year-old.

And just in case you think all I do are stupid things, like rescue chairs, these are some of the domestic kitchen things I did last week. Of course there is no room for them in the basement because, guess what? I have 12 dining room chairs down there but no table to go with it and no dining room, either.

And yes, Phil is a saint. And I love him.

THE ONE MINUTE TRADITION

Yesterday, after all the food was consumed--well, not all of it, some got sent home with others and a good deal of it is in the fridge, waiting for leftover day, which is going to be tomorrow--after the goodbye's were said, Kraut...

...and The Soap Queen...

...loaded the kids in the car. After I snapped a few more photos...


...they drove off. And then, instead of going on down the road, Kraut made a circle in the road and we got a chance to hear, "Goodbye Grandma, Goodbye Grandpa," yelled out of the windows again. We waved and grinned. Off they went. Almost. Another circle. You get the picture. Around and around they went, laughter spilled from the windows as the children delighted in the minute their dad wasted not going home.

And that's really all it took. One minute. He even does this in the winter when the road is covered with snow and ice. It's a tradition that they love and we love and they will always remember.