This is what happens when Barb can't come to sewing night:
Come back Barb! We miss you...
Oh and we always bring super glue to sewing night, to patch up the rugs in the cultural hall.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Starring Shelby, a barren tree...
Tonight I went to our Stake Musical Production....Presentation...Thingy?
I know lots of people really love Michael McLean's The Garden, I even have the CD. Nonetheless, I have discovered I am not too big on Allegorical Oratorios.
You know, the kind with singing trees, plants that don't grow, ensnared rams that mess up, and stones that are dead inside.
But I DO love the tree. The barren olive tree. Because she sings like a BEAUTIFUL BIRDIE. That's my Shelby. She is amazing, and I could listen to her sing day and night. So, I go to Allegorical Oratorios so I can hear her sing.
The first highlight of the evening for me was when my friend Linda stood up on the conductor's box and I realized she was the musical director. Things were looking up and no one had opened their mouths yet.
The second highlight was Bridget from Sanford, who sings like an angel. I felt sad that she couldn't grow and feel the sun.
The third highlight was a young man from Methuen who just might be the next American Idol. OK maybe not but the name David Archuleta did cross my mind. He was pretty good.
Ah, but the best, the very best, the bestest of all, was our dear sweet Shelby. She sings with HEART AND SOUL, and I loved every note, every musical expression. I felt sad that she was a barren tree, and elated when that was overcome.
Other than that, well... it was a great message if you like that kind of thing.
I guess I prefer Book of Mormon Road Show, Seminary video kind of talent, like this...
Just call me shallow...
I know lots of people really love Michael McLean's The Garden, I even have the CD. Nonetheless, I have discovered I am not too big on Allegorical Oratorios.
You know, the kind with singing trees, plants that don't grow, ensnared rams that mess up, and stones that are dead inside.
But I DO love the tree. The barren olive tree. Because she sings like a BEAUTIFUL BIRDIE. That's my Shelby. She is amazing, and I could listen to her sing day and night. So, I go to Allegorical Oratorios so I can hear her sing.
The first highlight of the evening for me was when my friend Linda stood up on the conductor's box and I realized she was the musical director. Things were looking up and no one had opened their mouths yet.
The second highlight was Bridget from Sanford, who sings like an angel. I felt sad that she couldn't grow and feel the sun.
The third highlight was a young man from Methuen who just might be the next American Idol. OK maybe not but the name David Archuleta did cross my mind. He was pretty good.
Ah, but the best, the very best, the bestest of all, was our dear sweet Shelby. She sings with HEART AND SOUL, and I loved every note, every musical expression. I felt sad that she was a barren tree, and elated when that was overcome.
Other than that, well... it was a great message if you like that kind of thing.
I guess I prefer Book of Mormon Road Show, Seminary video kind of talent, like this...
Just call me shallow...
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Create
We had a great lesson in Relief Society last week centered on President Uchtdorf's talk last fall. I love this video!
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Easter Thoughts on Christ
I stand all amazed at the love Jesus offers me,
Confused at the grace that so fully he proffers me.
I tremble to know that for me he was crucified,
That for me, a sinner, he suffered he bled and died.
I marvel that he would descend from his throne divine
To rescue a soul so rebellious and proud as mine,
That he should extend his great love unto such as I,
Sufficient to own, to redeem, and to justify.
I think of his hands pierced and bleeding to pay the debt!
Such mercy, such love and devotion can I forget?
No, no, I will praise and adore at the mercy seat,
Until at the glorified throne I kneel at his feet.
Oh, it is wonderful that he should care for me
Enough to die for me!
Oh, it is wonderful, wonderful to me!
"I Stand All Amazed", Hymns of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, no. 193
Text and music: Charles H. Gabriel, 1856-1932
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
The Bunnies
Click here for part one.
Click here for part two.
Click here for part three.
Probably my favorite Easter gift was the bunnies. There was one for me, and one for my brother. We went to the breeder up the road, and he let us choose our Easter bunnies. He checked to make sure we got two girls, and off we went with our favorite gift of all time. I still remember the soft fur, the pure whiteness, the little nose that wiggled, the long ears that perked up when I came around. I loved these bunnies!
After a time the cage got a little crowded. Hmmmmm, two girl bunnies and now we have 12 bunnies! How did that happen?
My poor mother didn’t know what to do, so after the first batch, she let them loose on our porch, where they would all fit.
And now…53 bunnies? 186 bunnies? 496 bunnies? 34682 bunnies? Yep that is how bunnies duplicate. You know, like rabbits. They had outgrown the porch long ago, so my mom just let them run wild. And run they did. Our property was a SEA of bunnies. Hundreds and hundreds of bunnies! They got big and fat, and stayed white. They were powerful, and strong, and just a little scary. We had been taken over by bunnies!
I remember driving down the road, and approaching my house from a mile away – road kill bunnies. Driving into the driveway at night was so fun – watching the bunnies part like the red sea when we drove in and the lights hit them.
It became a priority to get rid of the bunnies, but what on earth could we do?
A hobo that lived in a shack up the road volunteered to help get rid of the bunnies. He could eat well, and we would be rid of the problem. I will never forget the sight of two old shaggy men, running around our yard with burlap sacks, trying to catch those bunnies! They would open the sack, run around like crazy, jump and land on their bellies, and away would run the bunny! At the end of the day – very tired old men, with no bunnies in their sacks.
My dad finally did take care of the bunnies. Maybe you don’t need to know, but he was a card carrying member of the NRA, I am sure.
I am pretty sure the novelty of animals as Easter gifts was over for my parents, and we were happy with marshmallow peeps and jelly beans from then on.
Happy Easter!
Click here for part two.
Click here for part three.
Probably my favorite Easter gift was the bunnies. There was one for me, and one for my brother. We went to the breeder up the road, and he let us choose our Easter bunnies. He checked to make sure we got two girls, and off we went with our favorite gift of all time. I still remember the soft fur, the pure whiteness, the little nose that wiggled, the long ears that perked up when I came around. I loved these bunnies!
After a time the cage got a little crowded. Hmmmmm, two girl bunnies and now we have 12 bunnies! How did that happen?
My poor mother didn’t know what to do, so after the first batch, she let them loose on our porch, where they would all fit.
And now…53 bunnies? 186 bunnies? 496 bunnies? 34682 bunnies? Yep that is how bunnies duplicate. You know, like rabbits. They had outgrown the porch long ago, so my mom just let them run wild. And run they did. Our property was a SEA of bunnies. Hundreds and hundreds of bunnies! They got big and fat, and stayed white. They were powerful, and strong, and just a little scary. We had been taken over by bunnies!
I remember driving down the road, and approaching my house from a mile away – road kill bunnies. Driving into the driveway at night was so fun – watching the bunnies part like the red sea when we drove in and the lights hit them.
It became a priority to get rid of the bunnies, but what on earth could we do?
A hobo that lived in a shack up the road volunteered to help get rid of the bunnies. He could eat well, and we would be rid of the problem. I will never forget the sight of two old shaggy men, running around our yard with burlap sacks, trying to catch those bunnies! They would open the sack, run around like crazy, jump and land on their bellies, and away would run the bunny! At the end of the day – very tired old men, with no bunnies in their sacks.
My dad finally did take care of the bunnies. Maybe you don’t need to know, but he was a card carrying member of the NRA, I am sure.
I am pretty sure the novelty of animals as Easter gifts was over for my parents, and we were happy with marshmallow peeps and jelly beans from then on.
Happy Easter!
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
My Baby Lamb Called Easter
Click here for part one
Click here for part two
One year the gift was none other than a little lamb! Such a sweet, white, soft, cuddly little lamb! I loved this little lamb. Snuggly, loveable little lamb. I was in heaven. I named my baby lamb Easter. PERFECT name for a perfect little lamb.
One fine summer day, my mom planned an outing to outdo any before. Because we lived in the country and didn’t have a second car – an outing was no small thing. She arranged for the Greyhound Bus to stop at our house and take us to the city - 18 miles away! There we would shop in the large department store Freese’s, the city shoe store and ride home with my Dad at the end of his work day. Because we were going to the CITY, that meant we got all dressed up in our finest dresses. We were decked to the nines. Let me repeat, this was A.VERY.BIG.DEAL.
Remember that sweet little lamb? By now, it was a cute baby RAM lamb, and I still loved him. I went out in the field to play with my lamb while waiting for the bus. I turned to return to the house.
Watch out! Here comes Easter! He decided to charge me. Head down, he came flying up the field and BAM hit me below the knees, knocking me to the ground. And the Ram, well he got away scot free! In spite of ramming my ankle to the point of breaking it, again I was the one in trouble! I ruined the outing! I ruined my dress! Why oh why did I go out into the field to play with my lamb!
Ooooooooooooh I can't wait to tell you about the bunnies...
Monday, April 6, 2009
The Chicks
Click here for the intro...
I vaguely remember the chicks, I must have been very young. I remember a cardboard box, a light bulb for heat, and lots and lots of peeping. Peep peep peep peep peep peep. That’s where the marshmallow variety get their name, you know. The live ones are noisy! Little fluffy chicks grow to egg laying hens. Everyone knows that fertilized eggs are better, so we of course had to have a rooster. And this is where the sweet Easter story takes a nasty turn.
I was all dressed up in my Easter finery, and in those days it included everything from white patent leather shoes to a glorious hat and white gloves to match. I followed my mom out to the shed where the animals were kept.
Apparently, my finery appeared a threat to the rooster, who proceeded to attack me and knock me to the ground. Let me rephrase that. The hen manure covered shed floor. There that’s more descriptive. The rooster proceeded to attack me in all my manure covered Easter finery until I was quite the sight.
Man was my mom mad. In a perfect world she would have channeled that anger toward the rooster, but alas, it was the little girl that didn’t belong in the hen house that faced her wrath. I ruined Easter! I ruined my finery! Why oh why did I follow my mom into the hen house!
You would think my parents would re-think Easter gifts, but oh no…
I vaguely remember the chicks, I must have been very young. I remember a cardboard box, a light bulb for heat, and lots and lots of peeping. Peep peep peep peep peep peep. That’s where the marshmallow variety get their name, you know. The live ones are noisy! Little fluffy chicks grow to egg laying hens. Everyone knows that fertilized eggs are better, so we of course had to have a rooster. And this is where the sweet Easter story takes a nasty turn.
I was all dressed up in my Easter finery, and in those days it included everything from white patent leather shoes to a glorious hat and white gloves to match. I followed my mom out to the shed where the animals were kept.
Apparently, my finery appeared a threat to the rooster, who proceeded to attack me and knock me to the ground. Let me rephrase that. The hen manure covered shed floor. There that’s more descriptive. The rooster proceeded to attack me in all my manure covered Easter finery until I was quite the sight.
Man was my mom mad. In a perfect world she would have channeled that anger toward the rooster, but alas, it was the little girl that didn’t belong in the hen house that faced her wrath. I ruined Easter! I ruined my finery! Why oh why did I follow my mom into the hen house!
You would think my parents would re-think Easter gifts, but oh no…
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Watch Out! Here Comes Easter!
Proof that I was a child once...I grew up in the era when Easter meant gifts of chicks and bunnies and lambs, and not of the stuffed variety. No sir – we got the real deal! Almost every Easter we got a gift of new life. We lived on a “gentleman’s farm” out in the country – but on a main road. We always had animals and gardens, and even a farm stand where we sold the fresh veggies we raised. So Easter animals fit right in.
I think I should introduce you to some of them...
...to be continued
Fatty Fatty Fat Club
So I've gone and done it. I've joined one of those fat clubs. You know the ones, where you pretend you are on "The Biggest Loser" and you are gonna get rich if you lose the most.
OK I think the winner might take home $60 or $70, but what the heck, if it motivates us, then that is great.
It was the great idea of a friend of mine, and few of us are getting together every week to weigh in, pay a little money, take turns giving a little presentation/pep talk.
I missed the first meeting because I had a previous engagement, but I got the word on how it all went down. My friend "Not-so-fat" did the presentation. She gave us all notebooks to record our progress, and every week we have to write down a goal for the week to give us something to work on and keep us motivated.
How is it going you say?
Well, the next morning, after Fatty Fatty Fat Club, I was contemplating the goal I would write down if I had my notebook. I chose two goals and was debating which to start with. Hmmmmmm what shall it be? Should I stop picking up an ice cold diet coke every morning at Cumberland Farms on my way to work? OR, should I just say NO FAST FOOD. That would be a good one.
I was so deep in thought that on auto pilot, I pulled into C-Farms and picked up my morning addiction (think ice cold). I continued to consider that I could still make that my goal. I mean, after all, I haven't written it down yet.
On the way to work I discovered I was STARVING (because in actuality it was more like 1 in the afternoon). Remember I was still debating between NO Diet Coke at C-Farms, or No Fast Food. I could just go to work and pop open a can of soup to get me through the day, right?
Next thing I know, I am pulling away from Dunkin Donuts, munching on the most disgusting grilled cheese flatbread piece of grossness. I finished it, every last disgusting bite.
So, what do you think my goal should be? I am taking all suggestions. My first thought is that I should write down
"Week One Goal: No debating over goals. Pick one and stick with it."
I think I better write that down...
OK I think the winner might take home $60 or $70, but what the heck, if it motivates us, then that is great.
It was the great idea of a friend of mine, and few of us are getting together every week to weigh in, pay a little money, take turns giving a little presentation/pep talk.
I missed the first meeting because I had a previous engagement, but I got the word on how it all went down. My friend "Not-so-fat" did the presentation. She gave us all notebooks to record our progress, and every week we have to write down a goal for the week to give us something to work on and keep us motivated.
How is it going you say?
Well, the next morning, after Fatty Fatty Fat Club, I was contemplating the goal I would write down if I had my notebook. I chose two goals and was debating which to start with. Hmmmmmm what shall it be? Should I stop picking up an ice cold diet coke every morning at Cumberland Farms on my way to work? OR, should I just say NO FAST FOOD. That would be a good one.
I was so deep in thought that on auto pilot, I pulled into C-Farms and picked up my morning addiction (think ice cold). I continued to consider that I could still make that my goal. I mean, after all, I haven't written it down yet.
On the way to work I discovered I was STARVING (because in actuality it was more like 1 in the afternoon). Remember I was still debating between NO Diet Coke at C-Farms, or No Fast Food. I could just go to work and pop open a can of soup to get me through the day, right?
Next thing I know, I am pulling away from Dunkin Donuts, munching on the most disgusting grilled cheese flatbread piece of grossness. I finished it, every last disgusting bite.
So, what do you think my goal should be? I am taking all suggestions. My first thought is that I should write down
"Week One Goal: No debating over goals. Pick one and stick with it."
I think I better write that down...
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