Painting pumpkins

After picking up our little pumpkins at Schilter's Farm, we painted them for FHE. The kids had a lot of fun, and it bought us some time before the begging began to carve the big pumpkins. Painted ones last much longer on the front porch. 

Aubrey wanted several designs on hers, and we knew she could pull it off. She's pretty artistic. 

The master at work--she's painting a bat. If you look closely, you can see the pencilled-in witch. She also painted a jack-o-lantern and a ghost. Very colorful!

Lincoln, on the other hand, is still learning to stay in the lines when coloring. He just isn't interested in creating masterpieces yet. We went with a Spiderman pumpkin for him--and all he had to do was paint the whole thing red.

Huh? What do you mean 'Watch what I'm doing . . ?'

Mom has to help the little man stay focused.

Our finished products--the big pumpkins have tattoos. We'll carve the other side right before Halloween. Cute little painted pumpkins, huh?

Spooktacular

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, Lincoln decided he wanted to be Darth Vader for Halloween. As I lay in bed one night planning what the rest of our family could be, Aubrey's costume was a no-brainer. She'd be Princess Leia--of course. Then it hit me like a ton of bricks--Jace could be YODA!! And not only would he be the cutest little Yoda ever toddling around, but I remembered my nephew was Yoda a few years ago. So I wouldn't even have to buy the costume! I love it when stuff works out like that. 

I'm not a Star Wars girl at all (Have you ever played Star Wars Trivial Pursuit? I promise you don't want me on your team . . . Jedi who?), but I was thrilled for my cute little fam to dress the parts. When Laura sent the Yoda costume, she included a robe that her husband had bought in the Middle East--'Obi Wan style,' she told me. So now even Gav could be a part of the dress-up fun--but what about me?

A week before our community party, I went costume shopping on ebay. I debated about buying one--did I really need to spend the extra money? I ultimately decided it would be fun and totally worth it. Besides, I could always turn around and resell it next year to recover what I spent.

I found a Queen Amidala costume. I had not idea who she was, so when I learned she was Princess Leia's mom, I couldn't resist. I clicked on 'buy it now,' paid the money, emailed the seller to make sure it would ship on time, and waited. And waited. And fretted. And waited.

Friday morning (the party was Friday night), I received the UPS tracking notification via email. Bummer for me, the company totally broke their promise. The package had scanned in Salt Lake City at 3 a.m. that morning. WHAT?!? They gypped me. While my fam was dressed up and so cute, I was a Galactic goon without a costume. Such a rip-off. 

Like I always tell my kids, you get what you get and you don't throw a fit. There are worse things in life than a no-show costume. So we went to the Spooktacular and had fun nonetheless.

Jace/Baby Yoda was a big hit. In the first few minutes there, three total strangers took his picture. This continued all night. He strutted his stuff ("He even walks like Yoda!!"), as we watched approvingly. He's such a cute kid. 

This is blurry because he's shaking his groove thang to the spooky tunes--such a party animal!

Aubrey/Princess Leia and Lincoln/Darth Vader had fun with all the games and activities. Neither the mask nor the wig lasted very long, so thank goodness for the treat sacks.

A Haunted House bean bag toss

A cemetery ring toss--complete with ghouls, skeletons, and tombstones

It really was a great party put on by the PTA, ROA, and many volunteers. By the time we got home, the kids were tuckered out and ready for bed. That's my kind of party, for sure. 

The Great Pumpkin

The trick-or-treaters last year

As you know, I have a love/hate relationship with all things sugary. Halloween is like a nightmare and a dream come true all in one. Yummmmm--all that candy! And, all that candy? Yikes! 

So I was thrilled last year to learn about the Great Pumpkin (known hereafter as GP). After Halloween, the GP exchanges candy for presents. We told the kids about the GP a few days before Halloween, then woke up to see his note and these baggies on the front door the day after the big sugar-fest.

Click on pic to read the GP's letter

The kids were so excited to sort through their goodies and pick out their faves. They kept whatever they could fit into the baggies, then left the rest for GP to pick up the next night. When GP returned, he took the candy and left some simple gifts. 

As luck would have it, a local restaurant was accepting donations for care packages to be sent to Iraq. Being the patriotic GP that he was, he donated the candy to the troops. Everybody wins.

After Halloween, Aubrey asked her friends if they too had received visits from the Great Pumpkin. She talked about him everywhere we went. Most hadn't heard of the GP, so I had to explain. Parents and kids all seemed to like the idea.

I think the GP will make a return visit this year. I hear he's looking to expand his route, and might drop by your place too--you never know!

 

Schilter's Farm

Our kiddos on the hay ride--notice all the gorgeous Christmas trees in the background. We'll be back soon for one of those!

We took the kids to a local Pumpkin Patch for our annual ROA Fall Festival. It was inbetween soccer games (Linc still has his soccer garb on), so we were limited on time; but we made the most of it. In addition to the usual hay ride, straw maze, petting zoo, and--of course--pumpkins, the ROA had several crafts for the kids. 

The Fall Fest was fun, and another reason I love our community. There are so many family-friendly activities. I already posted about the Daddy/Daughter V-day dance and the Easter egg hunt--coming up is the Spooktacular and decorating Gingerbread houses. I love that my kids will have these memories.

Monkey see, monkey do. Aubrey spotted this picture op first, but Linc can never be outdone by his big sis.

We told the kids they could pick whatever pumpkin they wanted with one caveat--they had to be able to carry it out by themselves. Smart, huh? Oooh, Jace had his sights set pretty high on this big thing.

"What do you mean I can't carry that one by myself?" 

(Do you like the scab in the middle of his head--it looks like the mark women in India wear when they're married. Instead, it's the mark from biffing it at the McD playland.)

We made it home with lots of kiddy crafty projects, three cantaloupe-sized pumpkins (perfect for painting--I'll post that soon), a bag of honey-crisp apples, and our cute kids with a smidgen less energy than usual. Not bad for an hour or so at the farm.

The Ant and the Grasshopper 2008

My father-in-law sent this to me in an email (thanks, Wayne!)--ENJOY!

TRADITIONAL VERSION:
The ant works hard in the withering heat all summer long, building his house and laying up supplies for the winter. The grasshopper thinks the ant is a fool and laughs and dances and plays the summer away. Come winter, the ant is warm and well fed. The grasshopper has no food or shelter, so he dies out in the cold.

MORAL OF THE STORY: Be responsible for yourself!

MODERN UPDATED VERSION:
The ant works hard in the withering heat all summer long, building his house and laying up supplies for the winter. The grasshopper thinks the ant is a fool and laughs and dances and plays the summer away. Come winter, the shivering grasshopper calls a press conference and demands to know why the ant should be warm and well fed while others are cold and starving.

CBS, NBC, PBS, CNN, and ABC show up to provide pictures of the shivering grasshopper next to a video of the ant in his comfortable home with a table filled with food. America is stunned by the sharp contrast. How can this be, that in a country of such wealth, this poor grasshopper is allowed to suffer so?

Kermit the Frog appears on Oprah with the grasshopper, and everybody cries when they sing, "It's Not Easy Being Green."

Jesse Jackson stages a demonstration in front of the ant's house where the news stations film the group singing, "We shall overcome." Jesse then has the group kneel down to pray to God for the grasshopper's sake.

Nancy Pelosi, John Kerry & Harry Reid exclaim in an interview with Larry King that the ant has gotten rich off the back of the grasshopper, and all call for an immediate tax hike on the ant to make him pay his fair share.

Finally, the EEOC drafts the Economic Equity and Anti-Grasshopper Act, retroactive to the beginning of the summer! The ant is fined for failing to hire a proportionate number of green bugs, and, having nothing left to pay his retroactive taxes, his home is confiscated by the government.

Hillary gets her old law firm to represent the grasshopper in a defamation suit against the ant, and the case is tried before a panel of federal judges that Bill Clinton appointed from a list of single-parent welfare recipients. The ant loses the case. The story ends as we see the grasshopper finishing up the last bits of the ant's food while the government house he is in, which just happens to be the ant's old house, crumbles around him because he doesn't maintain it.

The ant has disappeared in the snow.

The grasshopper is found dead in a drug related incident and the house, now abandoned, is taken over by a gang of spiders who terrorize the once peaceful neighborhood.

MORAL OF THE STORY : Be careful how you vote in 2008

I'm too sexy for my highlights

I dyed my hair. After many-a-stroll through the hair color aisles at Target and Wal-Mart, I finally did it. My previous blonde was a little bleached-out, and I'm getting too old to pull it off anyway. My natural dingy brown color isn't a good option either, and I wanted something fun and new.

I was scared to do it, however, because I've seen many DIY efforts go very wrong. A friend in college (you know who you are, Honky Tonk) once made several desperate trips to Smith's in Provo for box after box of color to fix the mess she got herself into. She figured it out--sort of--and she's super cute now, so it all worked out eventually.

Fortunately for me, one trip was all it took. It isn't perfect, but I like it.

Thank you Revlon, I think my $2.44 was well-spent. 

BCGs

The Army is full of acronyms. Most of the time when I'm talking to some seasoned military person who is spewing random letters of the alphabet, I just nod my head and pretend like I know what's being said. 

After a while, it starts to become like learning a foreign language, and you just figure it out based on context. Like tonight, this woman was talking about an upcoming holiday bazaar and she said 'OSC.' Ummm . . . a-ha!! It's 'Officer's Spouses Club.' I'm catching on.

So 'BCG' stands for 'Birth Control Glasses' and refers to the Army-issue glasses. I guess the idea is that the attraction factor of an individual is greatly diminished when he or she is sportin' these lovely specs, making it highly unlikely for any chances at baby making. Great birth control, perhaps 99.9% effective like the rest of them. 

BCGs are given out for free (heaven knows nobody would pay money for them), and were the only thing Gav could wear eons ago in basic training. For whatever reason, every once in a while we get a random pair of glasses in the mail. It's a requirement for Army readiness I'm told--so if Gav suddenly has to serve the country, he has a pair at the ready. Of course, nobody wants a blind Army guy running off in the middle of the night to save the USA.

These lovely BCGs have found a home in one of Gavin's vanity drawers, and our boys love to play with them. It's hilarious. I took pictures of Lincoln a couple of years ago when he discovered them (love it when they're on upside-down), and now Jace has followed suit. So cute.

Very soon, we will no longer be receiving BCGs. Gavin is scheduled for corrective eye surgery in about a week and half. Just like the BCGs, his surgery is totally covered--we don't pay anything out of pocket.                                                                      

This is the cache of meds Gav received today for his surgery--wowzers. I wonder if eye drops sell on ebay?

Thank you, taxpayers--for several pair of glasses my boys can play with, free eye surgery, and a gazillion meds. 

I guess if my tax dollars are helping bail out somebody else's mortgage, it's only fair for others' taxes to pay for Gavin's vision. (He has to read all those X-rays, you know.)  

Olympic National Forest

We took a break from General Conference a week ago to go on a little road trip. The Olympic National Forest is about two hours away, and the whole family needed a hiatus from the house and the couch. Thank goodness for DVR--hopefully we'll catch the Sunday afternoon session one of these days. {If anyone with young kids can really focus on Conference at home, please leave a comment and give me some tips.}

Gav is giving a demo on skipping rocks at Lake Quinault.

Lincoln is winding up for his shot, and Aubrey is hoping at least one of her rocks will skip (no such luck).

Jace found a perfect rock for skipping, but would rather eat it before going for a swim.

Our super cute kids at the first of two waterfalls we saw.

My boys hiking through the rain forest.

We finally reached the waterfall! This was the fourth pic and final attempt at no silly faces. Aubrey knew her ice cream was on the line, and she forfeited it. Oh well. It's probably best not to go to Dairy Queen--it was Sunday, afterall.

Those white specks are raindrops--what good would a rain forest be without a little rain?

When we told Aubrey we were going to the rain forest, she asked if there would be a Rain Forest Cafe there. VOILA!! Somehow I don't think this is what she had in mind . . .

The Eternal City

Rome, Italy is often referred to as the Eternal City. This nickname is especially appropriate now that a temple of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints will be built there. 

Many of you know that I was a missionary in the Milan, Italy mission. While in Italy, my fellow missionaries and I toiled and prayed and yearned for the Italians to feel the Spirit and realize the Lord's love for them. Knowing that the Italians will be blessed with a temple is a dream come true.

Without question, this was my favorite part of Conference this weekend. The reaction of the audience still brings tears to my eyes. It's as if everyone was as awe-struck as I was. Thank goodness for DVR--I've watched it over and over again. And everytime I'm like, "Hey Gav--watch, here it comes," as if I'm hearing the announcement for the first time. (Pause the tunes on the left so you can hear the gasp!)

Over the last several days, I have read many message boards regarding this new temple.  The excitement of the Italian members of the church is indescribable. One member described this as a 'new spiritual era for the nation of Italy.' Several expressed their emotions and wrote of their tears of joy. Many thanked former missionaries for their labors. 

I am absolutely thrilled that this is really happening. My heart swells with gratitude every time I think about it. 

Now I just have to start saving for my journey there . . . 

The temple site--you can sign up for email updates here.

A girl, a dad, and a Mustang

Today is my dad's 63rd birthday. Growing up, it was tradition to give him Keebler's fudge graham cookies, a case of apple beer or ginger ale, a package of combs, or some socks. I don't know exactly why each of those things were included, but he always acted so surprised as if they were the best presents ever.

In return, of course, my dad gave each of us so much more. I remember daddy/daughter dates waaaay back to the time when I had to take four or five steps to every one of his as we made our way across the parking lot at the hardware store (no Home Depot or Lowe's in those days). We'd finish off the afternoon with a trip to Baskin Robbin's, and I thought I was the luckiest girl alive.

As I got older, the dates became more sophisticated. My dad took me to see 'Singin' in the Rain' on Broadway in New York City. Just the two of us. I remember him stopping on a certain street corner and making me pay close attention the street names, telling me that if anything at all happened to separate us, this particular corner was where I was supposed to meet him. I remember my dad chuckling as I gripped his hand even tighter at the idea of getting lost in such a big city.

My dad always made me feel special. And he always showed us how much my mom meant to him. In my parent's house, there is a small plaque which reads, "The most important thing a father can do for his children is to love their mother." My dad takes that to heart. On my last trip home, I saw little post it notes all around their home. One in the kitchen said, "Reason 242. I love the way you read until you fall asleep." These are little random love notes my dad has left for my mom in various spots of their house. Each time I saw one, it made me smile. And it made me think of that little plaque.

I always knew our family was a priority in my dad's life. During my junior year of high school, I had a singular experience that I will never forget.

It was Homecoming spirit week, and for whatever reason, my car was out of commission. Being the man that he is, my dad offered to let me drive his car for the week. His car was a 1966 Mustang, beautifully restored by him. Classic Mustangs have a serial number indicating their original color, interior, etc., Mustang enthusiasts like my dad can research this number and restore the car to its original glory.

A 1966 Springtime yellow Mustang convertible just like my dad's

My dad loo-oved this car. He had spent several years working on it during his spare time. Letting me drive it for the single-most significant week of the year was a pretty big deal. It also turned out to be a pretty big mistake.

The crisp fall weather was perfect for putting the top down. I thought I was so cool. The first mishap was backing into a school bus while parking at a school soccer game. Remember, this is a convertible. And I hit a BUS. Damage was minimal, but damage nonetheless.

Next came a speeding ticket (I think). Then scraping the front bumper on the garage wall. Then a flat tire. Are you kidding? All in one week. And my dad still let me drive the car. And I still thought I was super cool.

The final pivotal moment was after the Powder Puff football game. I had arrived late (not me!!) and was parked at the end of a row, illegally. But it's a high school parking lot--who really parks in the lines, anyway? When the game was over and I returned to the car with my friends, my heart dropped to my stomach.

Someone across the aisle had backed into my dad's car, crunching the back end above the wheel well. His once pristine Mustang was clearly damaged. I was heart-broken. I had been completely at fault with the other incidents, and I was at fault with this one too because I had parked illegally. And of course whoever hit it drove off, so there was no recourse.

That evening, I was in my room writing in my journal. I was so sad. The week had started triumphantly with me driving my dad's awesome car and enjoying every minute. Little by little and piece by piece--mostly through my carelessness--it had all fallen apart. As I was thinking of all of this, there was a knock on my bedroom door.

My dad came in and asked how I was doing. And I told him. I was miserable. I was sorry. I was disappointed in myself. I was crying. I knew how much his car meant to him and how much he trusted me to drive it that week, and I knew I had totally let him down.

My dad listened thoughtfully, and then turned it around. He told me that the car was only a car, and cars come and go. I, however, was his daughter. I was his forever. I mattered to him, not the car. He promised me it would all work out, it would be okay. I cried some more, thanked him, we hugged, and said good night.

Talk about a life lesson. My dad's car still has those scars--it has never been fixed. But, thanks to my dad's wisdom and love, I don't have any scars from that perfect-turned-pathetic week of my life. I am restored as his Mustang was--well and whole. I learned the importance of people, not things. And the value of forgiveness.

Happy Birthday, Dad! Thank you for the memories & magic, the love & laughter, and for your example of what it means to cherish a child.

And, uh, next time I'm in town--do you think I could borrow your BMW? (BAAAAAAH! Hahahahahaha!)