HOW MUCH CLUTTER SHOULD A PERSON STAND?

For years I have been chucking papers in boxes next to the computer. Things like stories that had been work shopped and need to be fixed. Copies of church talks I'd run off and fully intended to read--I fully intended to study them, actually--and have great life-changing epiphanies. There were even grocery ads in there. Recipes. Post-it notes. Photos. Pictures I wanted to watercolor--an especially nice one of Michael's. All kinds of stuff was there. You name it, it was probably there.

Three weeks ago Phil took all these boxes upstairs and said, "Here!" His unspoken message was, "Get rid of this junk or I will be insane along with you." Two insane people are too much for one house so I started. and then I restarted. Then I became overwhelmed and I ran away. Then I came back because I am fond of sleeping on a bed instead of the lawn swings. And then I got down to business. And now the living room looks like this. That doesn't look too bad unless you live here. Even when I have only one working eye--you'd think I could only see half of it--but no, even a one eyed person can tell this is really bad. I am still overwhelmed.

The mess wasn't bad enough so...I decided to do something about pee-pee doggies odor. I scattered three cups of baking soda on the floors. Three cups in the family room and three cups in the living room. Have you ever scattered three cups of baking soda in a room? It goes everywhere. Every surface is covered, even though I was careful. If people had shoes out--coughElizabethandmecough--their shoes got covered. It looks like no one has dusted in three years and I make a point of dusting every year or so, honest I do.

So, tonight I made the youngest shoe-offender vacuum and now I am ignoring the piles in the living room and I am going to check things with the black light and use some kind of miracle liquid that guarantees to work on stains and odors. There are no stains, because years ago we picked a carpet color that looks like dirt. Or maybe it looked like something else way back when and now it looks like dirt. But...there are odors. And I intend to sleuth them out.

And I should clean up this clutter too but I just can't do it yet. It shows me that people love me and brought me cards and goodies on my birthday. Some even sang to me. I think this is nice clutter.

I have only two thank-you notes written.

Humm...maybe I should write thank you notes and leave the black light business until later. What do you think? Cleaning or thank you notes?

THE BIRTHDAY DINNER AND MINKEY GETS A BATH

Yesterday we were guests at a birthday dinner for our granddaughter, Maddy, who, it seems is growing up. We gave her--to be redeemed in the future--lunch out and then we will come back home for endless grandma-stories and jewelry making. Her favorite gift, I think, was a "pouffy" skirt that her sister, Ruby gave her (who spent the day dressed as Bo Peep, complete with sheep).

Or maybe her favorites were her Chuck Taylor shoes. We still owe five grandkids birthday lunches and movies--or maybe they want lunch and something else, like Maddy does. (We are going to have a busy time, once our ship comes in.) One of our sons is owed a birthday treat too. What do you buy a gadget freak who buys all his own gadget stuff? Maybe he should let me know.

We had Cafe Rio salads and that yummy Robert Redford's favorite dessert (about fifteen years ago--he loved the dessert fifteen years ago, this dessert isn't that old). The chocolate version--it was yummy. (Click here for the lemon version.)

And then, this afternoon, I gave Minkey a bath. The kitchen is flooded, the counters are flooded, and my sleeves are wet to the elbow. Minkey is happy to be clean, just didn't like the process.That's pretty much like all of us, isn't it? We love progress and better things. We like being better people, want to be more educated, perhaps thiner and more fit, etc. We just sometimes don't like the process it takes to get there.

Happy Birthday, Miss Maddison!

And stay clean, Minkey. I don't know if I have another bath in me.

WHAT A FIVE YEAR OLD KNOWS

1. They know that the pot stickers and the sesame chicken and the
   noodles are the best food at the Asian Buffet. They know that even without tasting everything.


2. They correct you when you tell them the Jell-O is orange and red. They say, "it's orange and dark red," and then you remember that they are the son of your son who would have said the same exact thing at age five.


3. Their fortunes already come true. "Express yourself. Don't hold
   back!" They talk and talk and talk.


4. They know that Grandma wants to sit by them so they save her a seat.


5. They know what they like.

6. They know "it's just a movie," and they don't want to sit on Grandma's
lap when she's scared and they aren't.

7. They feel safe at home.

8. They know they belong to someone and those someone's can be
trusted. Brothers and sisters can be trusted.

9. When asked what they are going to be when they are grown up they say, "Six." And then they say "seven," and then they say, "eight" and then they say, "nine" and when they get to "twenty three," they say, "I can count to one hundred. And a thousand." And you are glad they just said they know how, and didn't demonstrate.

10. When you say, "So, when you get to be twenty-four and you are grown up what do you want to do? And then they say, "work like my Dad," because they trust their dad and like him.

11. When you say, "What does your dad do?" they haven't a clue but they know that's what they want to do anyway. Be careful, you dad's out there 'cause your son's want to be just like you. Whatever you are. Whatever you do.

12. When you say, "Do you know who you are going to marry? Do you have some cute girl picked out?" They say, "My mom. And she'll have two babies and they will be twins." And then they grin because they know Mom is spoken for and already had eight babies, which might be a lot, even for a Mormon.

Here is Mom, selling handmade soap at the Farmer's Market today.

13. They know who they trust.

14. They know they are loved by Grandma and Grandpa.

15. They know they are smart and have a great future.

This is our grandchild. He is five. He has freckles. He has one dimple and he can put his finger right on it, even without a mirror. He is smart and funny and a good boy. We love him. We had a great time with him today.

Happy Birthday, five year old!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME

How many candles? "Set the da** thing on fire!" (Movie, Murphy's Romance)

A friend sent me to this web site. You type in your birth date and it gives you a bunch of useless, but interesting, information.

For instance, in Spanish my name means "pretty," but in German it means, "snake!"

Other useless facts:

My number is 11. The number 11 is associated with idealistic concepts and rather spiritual issues. Accordingly, it is a number with potentials that are somewhat more difficult to live up to. (That's right. I want to be idealistic but the spirit of nonsense keeps getting in the way.) You have the capacity to be inspirational, and the ability to lead merely by your own example. (Right again, many a unsuspecting follower has found themselves someplace they didn't know they were going.)

The positive aspect of the number 11 expression is an always idealistic attitude. Your thinking is long term, (darn right) and you are able to grasp the far-reaching effects of actions and plans. (That's right. I'm planning a hostage takeover--everyone will be forced to come with me on a nonsense trip to do nonsensical things. Like checking out all the restaurants that make good chocolate cake. We will have a rating system. And we will eat cake many times. The far reaching effects will be laughter and fun--and probably pounds but let's not think of that right now. Well, the Scottish Dreamer won't gain any--she inhales eclairs by the half dozen and never gains an ounce.)

Who could resist this?

I can boil 7.31 ounces of water with the candles on my cake. With all those candles I can probably heat the whole house. So, if you're cold--it's cold, here in Utah today--come on over, I'll light the candles and warm you right up.

And we'll eat cake.

BOOKWORM TURNS TWELVE

This our Bookworm. Her birthday was LONG ago but I have been negligent about posting her photos. There really isn't a black line between her eyes, I don't know what I did to get one there.

She wanted to go to Lotus Garden for her lunch. She said, "We used to go here so often as a family that when they saw us come in the door they didn't even ask us what we wanted to drink, they just brought us all the right drinks."

This is the back entrance. We had to walk past cases of tomatoes and boxes of groceries and shinny past stacks of stuff to get down the steps inside. I stepped in a pot hole full of water in the parking lot. Bookworm thought it was funny. I pointed out other pot holes she could step in, to be trendy with me, but she declined.

She only eats two things there. Potstickers and sweet and sour chicken. I told her she needed to try two other things. She put noodles on her plate and I gave her a cream cheese stuffed won ton.

Her gastronomical review? "It's crunchy!"

She is a chopstick kind of girl, no sissy forks for her. After two plates of potstickers and chicken and one new crunchy food and one new noodly food she had a tiny dollop of several kinds of ice cream--which she smooshed all together into a new and "wonderful" flavor.

Her fortune: "You will find your solution where you least expect it." The movie she chose was Monsters verses Aliens. This is Bob. She laughed at all the funny parts. There were a lot of funny parts.After the movie we found a bouncy ball machine and we fed five dollars into it. All the balls weren't bouncy balls, some were puzzle balls which are impossible to put back together. It was a fun day with my Bookworm. How I love her. She is twelve years old now and is in Young Women's. She will be a wonderful asset to the Beehive Class.

Happy Birthday, Bookworm. May you always find the solution. And I'll give you a hint. It's right at home, where you are taught faith and good works and integrity and everything else that is good in life. I love you with all my heart and Grandpa does too. You are a wonderful girl.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO OUR GILMORE GIRL

I am so behind on blogs and even behind on birthday's. I owe Bookworm a blog about her day out with Grandma and instead of worrying that I'm not going to get all the photos in I should just shoot for five and get it done.

And I missed The Baby's birthday all together. I'm so far behind with him that I haven't even given him a nick mane. It's a possibility that I'm a grandma-failure.

I thought I could at least have a nice birthday dinner for my girl today. I started off last night by putting a tablecloth on the table and a cute print tablecloth of Aunt Dorothy's on top, it looked so fresh--like something out of a magazine.

This morning, when I came into the kitchen I KNEW that Pika had been on the table because she had HAWKED UP A FUR BALL ALL OVER BOTH TABLECLOTHS! I'm telling you, I'm beginning to believe Phil when he says cats need their own planet.

I didn't make Gilmore Girl's cake last night and there is a reason to try and keep the Sabbath Day holy and not NOT MAKE CAKES ON SUNDAY. When I put the pans in the oven I thought there wasn't much batter in them. Odd. The reason is some brain-child forgot to put the eggs in. Four ingredients and I leave one out? The cakes were partially baked when I snatched the pans out of the oven and dumped the batter back in the mixing bowl with the eggs. They tasted a bit odd, dense-ish. Weird. Happy Birthday to you, dear daughter. Here, have a lousy cake.

I made frosting from scratch...with not enough milk, because I DIDN'T HAVE ANY LEFT after Her Excellency of Mousehole and the Boarder--who were visiting--drank it for breakfast. I only bought a quart--we don't drink milk--and asked them to leave me a cup and a half. Her Excellency only eyeballed it--and her eyeballs do not know what a cup and a half look like.

Then I was fixing Pioneer Woman's Spicy Shrimp and it was not, "yummy and fun, fun, fun," like she says. DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH SHRIMP COSTS, PIONEER WOMAN? She doesn't know. She has a plethora of cows and she just grabs one as she drives by in one of her farm vehicles and makes the poor cow trot all the way to town. He's delighted to go, he thinks he's going to have an adventure but she gives the poor cow to the grocer and then she fills up several grocery carts with whatever she wants and then goes home and takes forty-'leven photos of her kitchen adventures.

"Dear Pioneer Woman,

Shrimp is expensive. Just thought you'd want to know.

Sincerely,

Anonymous shrimp-failure-cooking-person in Utah

PS Your photos are beautiful but maybe three of them showing us the pepper is two too many."

Gilmore Girl has a recipe for shrimp that IS yummy and maybe even three fun's and I will put it in my recipe book as soon as I tear PW's recipe in tiny bits.

So, no tablecloths, an odd cake, stiff frosting and the shrimp with marginal "yummy's" and not so much "fun's."

But the company was fine. The hat that Curly Sue made for her mom was darling. (Note the creative spelling. She gets her "creative spelling" gene from me. I am nothing if not a creative speller. It's my one accomplishment.)

And she liked her gift. If you can't read it it says, "It's not where you go or what you do, it's who is beside you that counts." I tried to find a photo of the Savior with the two of them but I was fresh out.

Here's the photo is color, I don't know how to make it black and white. So, even though I had a few minor disasters, it was a good day with my girl, celebrating the day of her birth, which was one of the best days of my life. Even though she was TWO WEEKS LATE, and I gave birth in THE LABOR ROOM with NO ANESTHESIA, and Phil kept saying, "How interesting," and I vowed that if I lived, which I thought I wasn't going to do--I was going to KILL HIM WITH MY BARE HANDS and, that sweet baby was OVER ELEVEN POUNDS! Did I mention no anesthesia?

Yes, a great day, once all the pain and fear were over and I held that beautiful baby in my arms. She has been a joy ever since.

Well, ALMOST ever since. Teenagers, being what they are, but we're not going to think about that today, are we. (Twitch, twitch.) But then again, maybe we will, for just a minute, as The Mighty Hunter found that Gilmore Girl had scratched her name into the Clerk--when she was a teenager.

The Clerk is my favorite piece of furniture and, until tonight, I thought it had escaped the markings of children with a sharp instruments. Practically everyone in the family has scratched their name in the piano. Do you KNOW how much it costs to refinish a piano? Don't even ask.

"So," she said, after the name was revealed for one and all, "I guess that means I get the Clerk after you die. After all, my name is on it."

Over my dead body. Oh, wait. It will be over my dead body.

Happy Birthday! I love you anyway. And always will. And so does Dad.

PS Here's a photo of how I decorate the clerk--that you aren't getting--over my dead body--for spring.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE MIGHTY HUNTER aka THE GREAT GARDNER

This is Gilmore Girl. She looks tan but she is of the paleface variety. She is married to The Mighty Hunter, who, magically, in the spring, turns into the Great Gardner. Here is Curly Sue, who has tonsils the size of golf balls and is going to have them removed next week. This is Tuesday, who charms everyone with her impish ways.
This is the birthday cake, made for the Great Gardener's birthday. Gilmore girl was talking on the phone when she was making the frosting and forgot the "stick-a-buttah" and no one could tell the difference. Tuesday thinks the Great Gardner is a great candle blower-outer.
All his gifts were of the gardening variety.He can do some serious lopping with those babies.He already has seeds, sprouting for his mini-greenhouse.
Happy Birthday to a wonderful son-in-law. He is a great husband to our Gilmore Girl, a great daddy to our grandchildren and a great guy all around. We love him.