Not-so-perfect Halloween

I feel a little guilty today on this boo-tiful holiday. Guilty because this is the first time in 17 years of having an elementary school child, I have not attended the school costume parade. Now, before you rush to judgment regarding my mothering skills, allow me to explain my out-of-the-ordinary behavior. I lost my Halloween spirit. Well, kind of, but that's not the real reason. The main reason is that I had a very important appointment to keep for one of my ghouls and I couldn't reschedule unless I wanted to move the appointment way out into the future closer to another holiday (Thanksgiving). The other reason is that I have a 5th-grader, and this year--for the first time since our kids began attending this elementary--the 5th and 6th graders were not invited to be "Harvest Parade" (the politically correct term these days) participants. So, you see, I didn't really "need" to attend the parade and see other people's costumed cherubs parade through the crowded and noisy school hallways. Besides, I freed up a parking space for another parade spectator.

I atoned in advance for my negligence by baking, frosting and decorating 48 cupcakes (complete with homemade buttercream frosting, no less), and by providing the paper plates, napkins and cups for Mark's party. Sadly, though, I don't have any pictures of the party to share with Mark's posterity, but if I find the camera before the night is over, I'll at least have some photos of him in his wicked "Scream" costume.

Music Appreciation

Yesterday I received an email--the second of its kind--from Mark's 5th grade teacher. She requested that we talk with Mark about his behavior during music class. Allegedly Mark refused to participate, telling the music teacher, "Why should I participate when I have no future in music?" Mark was sent to the office to fill out a "Think Sheet" explaining his inappropriate behavior and providing a plan for improvement. He brought the sheet home for us to review and sign. I also required Mark to write a 10-sentence apology note to his music teacher before I would serve him his favorite lemon roasted chicken dinner. I explained to him (and "made" him put this in the note) that he DID, in fact, have a future in music. He protested, and I continued, "You will have a future in music. You'll be singing the Blues if you don't cooperate and behave in school." Of course, I had to include an explanation on what "singing the Blues" meant. He didn't find it at all amusing.

Camera Shy

I will be the first to admit (and my husband will agree) that I am still living in the stone age where cameras are concerned. I still use a 35mm camera--complete with film. I've fought long and hard against "converting" to digital. I have my reasons. First of all, I have yet to see one picture printed on real paper that was taken by Lance's digital camera. The pictures are all still stored in the camera or somewhere in the computer. I like holding the pictures in my hand and mailing copies of a selected few to others of my choosing. Secondly, I am still not adept at using a PC. Sure, I can email and word process (for the most part), and I can even "surf the net," but I have NO idea how to scan photos or even hook the camera up to the computer to transfer the photos from one part of outer space to another. Digital Camera is a foreign language akin to Finnish, and I don't know Finnish. However, something happened earlier in the week that is making me reconsider my cavewoman ways.

In an earlier post, I told of the fun adventures I had last week with Ruth and Tamra. Well, Ruth left her camera in Utah, and Tamra's 35mm camera (see, I'm not the only one!) was behaving erratically. I assured both guests that I had a great camera and plenty of film, so I would take all of the pictures. I then promised to get extra prints made and mail them to them. Good plan, or so I thought. I took photos of nearly everything we did, and made Ruth and Tamra pose more times than they wanted, but I was bound and determined to capture the memories. I finished one roll of film and loaded another. Not content to wait for the second roll to be taken, I delivered the first roll to a local one-hour photo lab and ordered 3 copies of each print. Imagine my distress when the photo technician told me that my negatives had been double-exposed and that NONE (that means not one) of the pictures "turned out." I guess that another family member (and I will not name names on this public website) used the film and it didn't roll back up into the roll like it should have, so I thought the roll was fresh. Now I'm worried that the roll currently in my camera is in the same condition. Will more memories go uncaptured on film?

What to do? I am willing to consider what everyone else has been telling me for years, it seems--time to buy my own digital camera!

Ruthless

I had the pleasure of hosting my dear friend and former college-and-beyond roommate, Ruth, and Ruth's friend (and my new friend), Tamra last week. The two of them take a trip each year to visit a temple. This year they chose the Seattle Temple, and I got to accompany them to the Temple and to some scenic locales in our area. What fun I had!

They arrived last Tuesday afternoon. We went to Issaquah and Seattle Wednesday. We toured the Issaquah Salmon Hatchery--one of Annica's and my old "haunts" when we lived in Issaquah. We also sampled and bought (of course!) delectable chocolates from Boehm's Chocolate Factory. The weather was quite drizzly, but when we drove into Seattle, the skies cleared. Our next stop was Pike Place Market. What fun! We even purchased fresh salmon to take home and cook for dinner. We ate lunch at the famous Ivar's Restaurant on the waterfront. That evening, the ladies joined me for a fun night of doughnut making with our ward's Priests and Laurels. (We made Brigham's Buttermilk Doughnuts, reportedly a favorite treat of Brigham Young. They were scrumptious!)

We ventured to a spot I had never before visited in my 21+ years of living in Western Washington. We took the Anacortes-Friday Harbor ferry to San Juan Island. The weather cooperated nicely with our adventure. We feasted on a yummy lunch of Salmon Tacos and Chicken Gorgonzola Salad before heading out to explore the island. We visited the Pelindaba Lavendar Farm, an alpaca farm, and two lighthouses, and saw lots of beautiful, interesting spots in between. We took pictures of cute piglets and sly foxes, and saw a blue heron, a bald eagle, and some seals and porpoises. We were disappointed in our quest to see orcas. Ruth really had her heart set on seeing those magnificent whales; however, it was an amazing experience just to gaze quietly at the still waters of the Strait of Juan de Fuca and ponder the beauty before our eyes. We left happy despite not being able to see the whales. We parked the van in the ferry waiting line and went in quest of something to eat for dinner. We found a little cafe near the ferry dock and ordered some food. The proprietor was quite a bossy lady, and punished Ruth and Tamra with cold split pea soup and a less-than-desirable roasted vegetable sandwich. My turkey vegetable soup was hot and tasty despite the lack of turkey (only 1 small piece was found swimming in my bowl), and my wheat-free oatmeal blueberry bar was delicious. We fell into our respective beds quite exhausted that evening.

Friday we headed up to Leavenworth. The fall colors were vibrant during the drive to and from our destination. We enjoyed the Bavarian village shops. It was Oktoberfest, but we didn't stick around for the evening's festivities which I'm sure included a lot of beer drinking. We ate a nice lunch and then headed back to Redmond. We changed into our dresses and then went to the Temple. It was so nice to be with such delightful ladies in that setting.

I was sad to take Ruth and Tamra to the airport Saturday. I loved having them here, and my family enjoyed them as well. They showered the kids and me with gifts and paid too much for meals and gas. Rachelle sacrificed her bedroom and her time to help out. She spent 4 nights at her Carlson cousins' home so that Ruth and Tamra could have her bedroom. She was a nanny and chauffeur for her siblings which allowed me to spend so much time with my guests.

I've long considered Ruth one of my "guardian angels." She helped me through the roughest time in my life--the months before my marriage. She is a true saint! Well, now I'm "Ruthless."

Conference Cannibalism

During his talk in Sunday afternoon's session of General Conference, Elder Dallin H. Oaks said, "Parents, what your children want most for dinner is you!" Mark quickly quipped, "Gross! That's cannibalism. While it may be an acceptable practice in some cultures, it's not acceptable in ours!"

One Meal at a Time

A few months ago I learned that I must follow a gluten and casein (a milk protein found in all dairy products) free diet for the rest of my life if I want relief from my chronic health condition, otherwise known as ulcerative colitis. I have active dietary gluten and casein sensitivity. This news came as a shock and was very depressing at first glance. I like products made with gluten. Actually, I LOVE products that contain gluten. Gluten is in everything from soy sauce to licorice to pasta to bread and almost everything yummy in between. While I've never been fond of drinking milk, I do enjoy cheese, butter, sour cream, whipped cream, ice cream, etc. So, to be told to give up most of the things I enjoy eating was not welcome news. I just couldn't fathom a happy life without pizza, pasta, sandwiches, pastries, milk chocolate, ice cream . . . Would life be even worth living?

Then came the epiphany. I didn't have to look at what I'd never be able to eat again in my whole life; I could just take life "one meal at a time." I could concentrate on what I could eat. I could learn to like new foods. I could try new recipes. I could buy gluten and casein-free diet cookbooks (of which there are many). I could shop at Whole Foods and PCC more frequently. I could connect with another group of people and be part of a new network.

This attitude has really helped me adjust. I have been gluten-free (with a very occasional slip-up) close to 4 months, and life has been good. I even feel better. I've lost 6 pounds. Of course, I haven't "gone off" dairy just yet, but that will come in time. I've made gluten-free brownies, bread, coffee cake, pancakes, muffins, cookies and other yummy stuff. I've become familiar with xanthan gum, mesquite meal, sorghum and other "new" flours, rice milk, and the list goes on. I've yet to find a gluten-free bread that is worth the effort to make it or the cost to buy it. I'll keep looking. I have to be careful as I experiment, because many of the gluten-free products (especially baked goods) have a higher carbohydrate and calorie count than their gluten-laden counterparts. Bummer!

My sweet, supportive husband has even "converted" to my food lifestyle. We're going to get the kids tested. We started with Rachelle who just tested positive for gluten and casein sensitivity.

I recently learned that autistic children are very often gluten and casein sensitive, and when the offending foods are removed from their diets, they begin to recover and make great strides. Who knew!

I'm joining friends for lunch at a restaurant today. I have to be careful and read menus carefully. (Many restaurants have gluten-free menu items.) I went to an Italian restaurant with another group of friends recently. It was the restaurant that sells my very favorite pizza--Passion Pizza of Verona. This pizza was loaded with Italian sausage, artichoke hearts, sun-dried tomatoes, pesto, feta cheese, kalamata olives, pine nuts . . . It looked so good. It smelled so good. I could almost taste it. I was just beginning to drool when I looked down at my Greek salad. I shifted my focus and enjoyed my meal without another thought of the yummy pizza sitting just a few inches in front of me. Almost.

Paint Job

When we moved into our home 20+ years ago, the exterior paint color was operating-room green with brown trim. It was not attractive. Since we were heavily involved in child-bearing and dealing with a colicky baby (aka Rachelle), repainting the house was not at the top of our priority list.

A couple years and another baby later, the time was right for the repainting project. The 3 girls and I went to Utah for a month, and Lance stayed behind to paint. As I remember, we decided on a lovely, trendy blue-gray color, and I left the final decision in Lance's capable hands as I headed off to Utah. I figured that since Lance was an artist, surely he could pick an attractive paint color. Wrong!!!

According to Lance himself, he tweaked the color "just a little bit" because the gray-blue looked just a little too dull for his liking. After spending lots of money on paint and spending several hours painting, he stepped back to survey his work. Lo and behold, the blue-gray color was not blue-gray, but sky blue, and I mean "sky" blue. The kind of sky blue that you see in the sky on a lovely summer day. Sky blue looks natural in the sky, but it doesn't belong on a house. Lance called me to report on the less-than-desirable results. He offered to buy more paint and try again. I figured that the house couldn't look "that" bad and I didn't want to spend any more money, so I said something like, "It'll be fine, honey. We'll just live with it and choose a different color the next time we paint."

Fast forward a few years, and it was time to paint again. This time I wanted "taupe." I looked at lots and lots of houses and selected a color I thought was "just right." If my memory is accurate, the kids and I again left for another trip so Lance could paint unencumbered with family duties. With the appropriate paint color card in hand, Lance trekked to the paint store to purchase the taupe paint. Again, Lance looked at the paint card and thought the taupe color needed to be a little lighter, so he choose a shade above the one I had circled. This time, the house turned out to be what we not-so-affectionately called "embarrassed taupe." Taupe-tinted pink, actually. I teased my poor painter-husband mercilessly. I teased him for years and vowed to never let him go to the paint store without me again.

This year Lance and the boys finished building the patio roof and railing, and it had to be painted. I was very clear in my choice of "white." Just plain white. So white it was. After it was all painted, of course the house looked crummy, so we decided to paint the entire house. I made it VERY clear that this time I was REALLY going to choose the paint color and go to the store with Lance to make sure he got exactly what I wanted. I scoured the paint card displays in several stores and came home armed with a dozen or so cards with which to choose my perfect paint color from. I even solicited input from my children, but that didn't do much good because they all wanted something different. I went with what I wanted--a color called "Cheyenne Rock." It was a darker grayish-brown. I liked it. I circled the color name several times with a pen.

As luck would have it, Lance chose a Saturday to paint when I had plans to be gone all day. We planned to buy the paint Friday evening, but were completely unable to make it to the store. I knew Lance would have to buy the paint himself Saturday morning when I was gone, and he would have to paint when I was gone. He promised me that he wouldn't tweak the color and would choose exactly what I had requested. I arrived home late in the afternoon and nearly choked when I saw the side of the house that was newly-painted. It was almost exactly the same color as the old paint, just a shade darker. I thought for sure Lance had picked the wrong color AGAIN!!! With a triumphant smirk on his face and then a loud laugh, Lance said that he had chosen EXACTLY what I had circled. He said, "I feel vindicated!" This time I had no one to blame but myself. The color now is milk-chocolate-with-a-touch-of-grape-juice. Lance had only finished about 1/3 of the house, but with $200 of paint purchased and a whole day spent painting, I didn't have the heart or even the desire to redo it.

Lance finished the entire house (except the white trim) the following Saturday. When I stepped back to look at the house, I realized that it looked better than I initially thought. While it's not exactly what I envisioned, it's close enough. I can live with it. What other inexpensive choice do I have?

The next time we have to repaint, we'll let someone else choose the color and buy the paint!