Christmas PJ's

I know, I really don't need to say anything more!

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!

Percocet Christmas

All I want for Christmas is a percocet, a percocet. All I want for Christmas is a ... no, it works, you just have to be sure to hit the syllables with the notes!

Scott and I are awesome parents, as an early Christmas present we gave Emily a wisdom tooth extraction! I know, you wish we were your parents. Well, if she could possibly take a few days off from school we wouldn't have had to do this at Christmas break. But, getting congress to agree would be easier than getting Emily to miss a day of school, and we didn't just finish a bunch of orthodontic work to have it messed up with those pesky wisdom teeth pushing their way in.

It turns out that my daughter is pretty fun stoned! She doesn't remember anything, but her Dad, the doctor, and the nurse thought she was pretty funny. It also turns out that anesthesia gives her the hiccups.

So, chipmunk cheeks is now resting in the recliner, with a liquid diet and a bunch of pain medications. Actually, Scott and I are feeling pretty guilty, she is in a lot of pain and misery. They say the third day is the worst, I think that works out to be Christmas, so while our timing may not be very good our intentions were the best. So here's to a heavily medicated Christmas.

It's Not My Fault

I've been thinking a lot about my weird, wry, sarcastic sense of humor lately. Maybe it's because my daughter has started catching on to some of my comments or the three new people at work keep making statements like "I can't believe you just said that." Anyway, I was wondering why I have this particular personality trait, then I thought of a favorite story of my sister Nancy's from her childhood.

My family had been pushing cows all day in the Dominguez Canyon on the Uncompaghre. The trail to get out of the canyon is pretty treacherous and was terrifying to Nancy. It's a steep cliff and as they were getting ready to start up, Nancy (ever the worrier) asked my Dad what would happen if the horse stumbled and she fell. My Dad look at her and said, "We'll sell that horse, right after your funeral."

See...it's not my fault!

Never Been Kissed

This morning on the way to school, a favorite Chris Ledoux song came on the radio, "County Fair". I really like this song, it has a catchy tune and I was happily singing along. I got to the line "there's nothing I know of, can make you fall in love, like a night at the county fair". In a moment of poor judgement I grinned at my son and said, " do you know how many times I fell in love at the county fair?". My son looked at me with all the innocence of a boy who is completely sure his mother has only kissed his father and said, "do you mean with the rides?". Mmmm...yeah, the rides.

PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT

This is a public service announcement for all my relatives, friends and most especially my nieces and nephews on Facebook. I think that you all need to be aware that my mother (the seventy year plus old woman) is a Facebook snoop.

I know what you thought, that like so many of your friends on Facebook, she logged in one day on a whim, created a profile, and moved on after friending you. Well, that is where you would be mistaken. You see, she used to get on with her laptop a couple times a week, but then in August she bought herself an iPad. There is no going back. The old woman is on Facebook all the time, she snoops around on your pictures, your comments, and even your friends. She knows how to wiggle around to look at everyone else's profiles too, but she doesn't make any comments, she won't like your status, and she never shares anything either.

So this is just to let you know, before you post that picture of your new tattoo, make off color remarks, or change your status...Harriet is watching.

P.S. The woman also reads blogs, and this will tick her off, so I will post this and go get my phone. Expecting a call in T- 5, 4, 3...

Snobs

My family is a bunch of snobs. Not the " I couldn't possibly be caught at Walmart" type snobs. No, because my family is pretty nerdy, we are office supply snobs. One of the most dangerous places for the Dederick family and their checkbook to go to is the office supply store. It's been building for years, but here is a summary. I'll go oldest to youngest:

Scott-a paper snob. Scott has a super nice laser printer, and he only likes 32# or better paper. Usually it needs to be Hammermill or HP, but the 24# will never cut it.

Allison-well, I'll admit I love all office supplies. But I'm a snob when it comes to file folders. I really don't like manila colored file folders. I like the pretty ones that only come 3 or 6 in a pack. I know that once they go in the file you can't see them, but I don't care. I also really like the designer binder clips, and any funky jump drives I can find.

Emily-a messenger style book bag snob. Emily packs (seriously) about 40lbs of books everyday. As a result she used to go through book bags like crazy. Now however we spend big bucks (and time) combing through the attaché, briefcase, messenger bag section of our local office supply stores. They have to be roomy enough and have the right closure, not to mention the strap has to be just right...yeah, snobby.

And Erik-(the reason I realized we were snobs the other day), who is a mechanical pencil snob. I stood in the office supply store on Friday night with glazed eyes as my son explained the various virtues of a 0.7mm lead over a 0.5mm lead. Although discovering the new 0.9mm pencil was exciting and he did want to purchase one package of these, but insisted on the standard 0.7mm package also, just to be on the safe side.

I know...we are nerds, but at least we are snobs in our nerdi-ness!

When I Die

I have a lot of dead relatives. In some ways it's probably good, how else would you find chairs for everyone at Thanksgiving? But, in some ways, bad because there are a some of those relatives I wouldn't mind seeing again. Well, in case you are new to my ramblings, one of the many things my gene pool is famous for is telling stories. Of course the stories get much better with time!

Anyway, we love to tell stories about our family, both the living and the dead. But, I have noticed that many times when we talk about some of the dear departed we tend to overlook a lot of their faults. Oh I know the whole "don't speak evil of the dead" thing, but the reality is that the those that are on the other side of the veil, had just as many foibles, shortcomings, and times when they dropped their basket as the rest of us.

My Dad was awesome, he is still awesome, but the truth of the matter was that he littered (copiously), he transported illegal fireworks across state lines, and he had been known to shoot deer without a license. And one time, I even saw him cut down a tree and it fell right on on his open pickup door. So despite what my Mother and sisters claim, he wasn't perfect.

My sister Ellen suffered for so many years with her chronic illness, but I'm pretty sure none of us can say she did it without a complaint. My Grandparents accomplished so much, but they had a few glitches too. Even my dear venerated ancestors that crossed the plains, I am sure, had a few faults. After all they didn't leave Nauvoo because they thought it would be a great adventure to journey in the wild west, they left because they were thrown out by the mobs.

I think at times we do ourselves and our children a dis-service when we make folk heroes out of their progenitors. After some of the stories I was told as a child there was no way, I knew, that I was ever going to measure up. Ten feet tall and bullet proof is a great story but the reality is that most of those people were just that, people. They would probably be extremely embarrassed about the way we have built them up. My ancestors struggled across the plains because they had no choice. My Grandparents achieved because they worked hard, and they all had serious setbacks both personally and financially. My sister struggled with her disease, when she would rather have led a quiet life. And, finally, I think my Dad would be disgusted with some of the ways we remember him. We are all human, put on this earth to do the best we can. I hope my children remember both my struggles and achievements at the end of my life, the times I achieved and I failed. Those are the stories from all of us that truly inspire.

Gifters Block

I'm out. Finished. Done. Washed up! Oh, the shame!

Christmas is coming, my favorite holiday. I listen to Christmas carols all year. I decorate my house with no less than 4 Christmas trees, our outdoor display is Scott's pride and joy, and at last count I had over 30 nativity sets. So with all this you may ask "what is your problem Allison?" (you know, this time).

I have a reputation for giving well thought out gifts, scrapbooks that make people cry, treasured eBay scores, etc. I carefully begin plotting and planning these gifts, literally months in advance. And this year...I've got nothing!! Christmas is five weeks away people, and I have gifters block. Oh, it's been building for months, I have racked my brain, but to no avail. I peaked to early, burned my self out, set the bar to high, and now I have nothing to offer.

I should have known this day was coming, but it is still pretty humiliating. I've tried to let people know, tried to warn them. I gently suggested to Nancy the other day that she might just get something simple from me this year like an Applebee's gift card. She looked at me as though I had just ruined her Christmas morning. She stared at me and gave an indignant huff, it only served to make me more humiliated. Now what? I'm scrambling, desperate, grasping at gifting straws. What will Christmas morning be like this year? So, if any one has any leads....ideas....anyone?

Goin' to use it for everyday

I'm a Mormon (Sorry, I'm supposed to say "a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints" because that is the real name). Anyway, my family lineage goes back nearly the entire span of the the modern church, on both sides. My mother belongs to the Glorious Daughters of the Utah Pioneers, which rumor has it requires a DNA test to join, and apparently I'm eligible to join as well.

It is my personal belief that something happened on a genetic level as those pioneer ancestors crossed the plains, probably somewhere around Council Bluffs, that created some sort of quilting gene mutation. You see, I know how to quilt. Not fancy mind you, but basic keep your family warm, thanks for the baby blanket type of quilting. It has been handed down for generations in my family. I even have a quilt that my great grandmother made. You see, all the women in my family can quilt and truly appreciate the effort real quilting requires. Over the years as I have heard women in my family discuss this or that about quilts, they will occasionally say something like "she had that gorgeous quilt Great Aunt So&So made, just out on her bed for every day!". Apparently some quilts are not for every day.

Anyway, when I got married, one of the many things my Mother, Aunts, Grandmother and assorted other relatives did for me was make me a beautiful quilt. I think the pattern is called a Cotton Blossom. It is pink on one side and burgundy on the other. It was hand quilted, and I even helped a little bit between a grass taxonomy lab and a lizard dissection.

Over the years this beautiful quilt has been displayed a few times on a quilt rack that Scott made, but for the most part it has been tucked away in my Hope Chest or in a cedar linen closet. But the other day I was changing out my summer linen, (waiting until I can put on Christmas linens) when I saw that quilt. I decided to put it on my bed. So there, after 20 years I'm going to use it for everyday!

Random thoughts of "Seige on Whiting Road"

Last night, thanks to some strange circumstances beyond my control, I had the opportunity to observe some of our local law enforcement's finest. Since I had a perfect vantage point (my Mother's front windows) I have decided to share some of my random insights:

Wow, I had no idea they made gun belts that big around.

Residents of Mesa County should always hope they are not in a hostage situation, since it takes about 3 hours to round up the SWAT team.

Should the guy in the house really be given the same ultimatum by PA four times? What? Do they think he might have been in the bathroom and not have noticed the armored swat vehicle sitting next to the front door?

I really should buy my Mom one of those eavesdropping things.

Has any of the tax payers in Mesa County noticed that the mobile command unit looks like a street taco vending truck? Several members of my family and I had to resist the urge to run over and place an order.

While I do appreciate them clearing my home before I came in, could they not have taken half a second to wipe their combat boots?

Ok, I can understand breaking out one window, but 6? And not using the doors?

If you are going to give the fugitive instructions, hope that he really does know which way is west.

Maybe, if the family members are all telling you he's not in the house, maybe he's not in the house.

Before you call out 30+ officers, maybe you should ping his cell first.

I know the fugitive wasn't very bright, but if he can outwit the deputies how smart are they?

If you really want to frustrate a former AF air base ground defense troop security police, federal officer- make him sit up at the end of the street and watch the keystone cops run all over the place. (ps, thanks for letting me listen to that last night).

Finally, if on the way up the street this morning and my son wondering why the windows are all broke out says, "why couldn't they just use one of those body heat, thermo things to see if he was in there?" I realize he gets it, maybe he should have been in charge of the op.

No Clue

I am a bad parent. It's true. I have no idea what I'm doing, there I said what I think everyone else has been saying. Well, what do you expect? They just sent these children home with me from the hospital and the only thing they checked was if I had the car seat installed properly. The little buggers don't come with any instructions, there isn't any license or certifications required. So here it is over 16 years later and I still don't know for sure how to do it.

I just wing it. Once many years ago I worked with a guy and his daughter who was also named Emily. She was such an awesome young woman, one day I told him he had done such a good job I should give him my daughter to raise. He looked at me bewildered and said, "I didn't do that. A pack of wolves could have raised her and she would have turned out just the same. I don't know how to be a parent, I just came to the breakfast table one day and there were five little faces looking at me."

The other day I think my son had a panic attack because "the market has been down, and the jobless rate is so high". Turns out I may be exposing my children to too much Fox News, who knew 12 year olds could get freaked out from the bad economy. I don't force my children to go to YW/YM every week, and I acknowledge that there are good leaders and bad in their lives. I let them not eat brussel sprouts and I force Emily to wear nylons with her dresses. I am obsessive compulsive about homework, but not about to much tv time. My children lecture me about swearing and talking smack about some people.

So, I am coming out of the closet and admitting what so many people know. I have no idea what I'm doing, and I plan to continue just like before.

I'm Voting No, you know because I hate children

Well, there it was in the mail on Thursday afternoon...my official ballot. I knew it was coming, that's all there has been in the letters to the editor in the paper, the "you said it" column, and all over with the yard signs and billboards. You see our local School District 51 has had to tighten it's belt in the last couple years with the downturn in the economy. So, despite getting turned down before they are trying yet again to get the property owners in Mesa County to pony up a little more money. The threats are clear, closing schools, laying off teachers, bigger classroom sizes, etc, etc.

Now for the disclaimer: I currently have three nieces with teaching degrees. One teaches back east, one teaches for District 51, and one is on active reserve attempting to raise 3 1/2 boys. I don't hate them, want them to earn less money, or want them to teach in schools without lights. (And, thank you Allie for agreeing with me on this measure).

You see the problem is that for the last 11 years I have dealt directly with this school district, and all the machinations that it has managed to create. My children currently can not bring home some of their text books because there aren't enough to share and can't leave the school. They have dropped some classes because the district can't afford some of the programs, and they literally go to the same schools I did 30 years ago and have some of the same desks, lockers, and even a few of the same teachers. But throwing money at them isn't going to fix any of this.

The district's mentality that "just give us more" will fix any and all problems isn't the answer. My children have had 30+ year teachers who flat don't give a damn. My nieces school has adopted a policy of "no homework" because the parents complained. The middle school has now adopted a "rubric" style of grading, which is completely bizarre. My daughters high school has 3 assistant principals, 5 counselors (all new this year) and six secretaries. My list of examples can go on and on, but please explain how any of this helps with a quality education.

My parents managed to get pretty good educations with only chalk boards and books, I managed to get a darn good education with chalk boards, books and a few computers. I don't think fancy projection boards, web sites, progress counselors, and dispute mediation's really help. So I am voting no. No, you can't have more money, you just have to tighten your belt like the rest of the country. It's like a teenager that has managed to go through his allowance in the first three days of the week, the solution isn't to give the teenager more money, the solution is to get the teenager to be more responsible. More money is not the solution to this nations education problem. If throwing money at it made it the best, our country's education results would lead the world. Our children and the administration of the district both need to learn the same lesson...responsibility.

The College Hunt Has Begun

College. College? Oh thanks, I've been there done that. What? Time for my daughter to start looking at colleges? No that isn't possible, I'm pretty sure she is only in third grade!

Well, today Emily and I went up to Aspen for the Western Colorado College Fair. (Ok, we missed church) Anyway, off we went because Emily just turned 16, and apparently the clock is seriously ticking. According to the counselors at GJHS we are already behind schedule. So there we were, with over 200 colleges in attendance and only three hours to look through them. There were colleges from every state in the union, ranging from Harvard (yes, Harvard) to IntelliTech. I think we are somewhere in between. The trouble is Emily wants to go into structural or architectural engineering (this week), so we are definitely not looking for a liberal arts college. Of course she found the perfect college...in Vermont.

Currently she seems to be interested in the following:

Vermont Tech

Colorado School of Mines

CU

Westminster

U S Coast Guard Academy (they include big guns with engineering)

Of course I have no idea who is going to pay for any of these colleges, but the dialogue has begun. We filled out enough of the little interest cards that our mail box should be over flowing in the next couple months. Next comes all the tests, PSAT, SAT, ACT, ASVAB, blah, blah, blah.

I'm not sure how the heck I ever went to college, I guess that is why I just stayed at MIT (you know Mesa in Town). But, even if Emily ends up at my alma mater that will be just fine. I'm glad Emily is being proactive and I hope all the entrance stuff doesn't overwhelm all of us. So begins a new chapter in our lives, well in two years, since we just started our junior year, but hey...the clock is ticking!

I Don't like Halloween

It's true, I really don't like Halloween. No, it isn't the religious part of me either, I simply don't like it. I have never liked scary things, I don't really appreciate gore and blood, and I don't even like suspense...so pretty much all things Halloween.

When I went to see Ghost Busters in my younger days I went home with nightmares. When my Dad suggested that that I watch Hitchcock's famous movie Psycho, I had a clear shower curtain for two years (that seriously irritated my sister Ellen). when my friends convinced me to go see Night of the Living Dead, I spent all but the first five minutes in the lobby. When I first got married Scott didn't believe that I really didn't like scary, and tried to get me to watch The Fly, I didn't sleep for three days and I only saw a few minutes of it too.

I have been known to attempt bribery of my children with multiple bags of their favorite candy if we don't have to go trick or treating. I have been known to purposely go out to dinner to avoid trick or treaters. I refuse to decorate my home with any extra cobwebs, skeletons, witches, etc.

If I have to I will go to church parties, I will get dressed up, and I will give out candy, but just realize that I really don't like Halloween.

Blame it on Shadrach

Approximately 10 weeks ago, I woke up thinking about the fact that I have a really big yard, and I really hate yard work. There are tons of nooks and crannies, a bizarre corner over behind Clark's, peach trees and lots of weeds. So I woke up and thought, "I need a goat", so I checked Craig's List and consulted my goat expert Allison the Younger. The conversation went like this:

Me: Hey, what do you know about La Mancha goats?

Allison: They're ugly, they don't have ears.

So, on the way home from work that day,

Introducing...Shadrach

No...he's not a camel. He's our sweet addition. But that just opened a whole other can of worms. First of all, staking out a goat in my neighborhood is like offering the local dogs/bears/mountain lions a treat on the end of a string, and apparently goats like friends. So, the task of fencing in the portion of our lot behind the Clark's began. Scott decided that the fence should be good enough to hold what ever his wife might bring home (what does that imply?). We had just started the fencing process, (spending a lot of time at my favorite store Murdoch's) and we had found all the necessary parts, except for a 16 foot wire filled livestock gate for the far corner. Unfortunately, Murdock's only had 14 foot gates, so Scott and I were looking for a misplaced 16 footer...when I tripped over the gate rack and broke the 5th metatarsal in my left foot. So the task of building nearly the entire fence went to...
Scott, and his "trusty" helpers

Okay, maybe not so trusty, but they did help.

Nearly 500 feet of fencing, two livestock gates, 18 eight foot post, and 45 T-posts later, we had a new goat pen.

In the midst of building the goat pen, we had an RE Whiting Family Reunion at the ranch. We had a pretty good turn out.

And of course Shadrach was invited. But he wasn't the main course.Despite the broken foot we did take a quick family vaca/back to school shopping trip to Salt Lake. We went to Lagoon, where my family had the opportunity to push me around in a transfer chair for the day. In a moment of weakness or maybe it was the percocet...I agreed to let my children do the following:

Get strapped into harnesses by twenty something year olds with little or no training

Hoisted a couple hundred feet in the air

and released.

Fortunately they survived, because I can't bake anymore.

We started back to school in August, the day before Emily turned sweet 16. She decided to post phone her party until Labor Day weekend, and the pictures from that are on another camera, so you will just have to breathlessly anticipate them.

Then last week we finally moved Shadrach out of the Chicken Coop (his temporary home while the fence was being finished) and got two new friends for him. I let the kids name them which is why we on't havea aMeeshach and Abednego. We now have...

Diva (who isn't really)

and Little Tim (Emily named him), she said, "He looks like a little Tim" So I asked, "Do you mean Tiny Tim?". "Who's Tiny Tim?" she asked. Never mind.
So now we have three goats, small, medium, and large. Although Shadrach has a few issues, he likes to play with Frank.Right now the goats only have a upside down Loomix tank for a home, but knowing my husband they will soon have a goat palace. But looking at them they don't seem to mind.

Anyway, I know I haven't blogged in a really long time, but between the broken foot, the goats, family reunions, school starting, a sweet 16 party, and maybe even a cub scout regatta race, I've been a little out of it. So I'm working on it.

The Dederick Family Shoes

A long time ago, I made an impulse purchase at Wal-mart. A pair of slip on Dr. Scholl's. How was I to know that many, many years later these same shoes would come to be known as "The Dederick's Family Shoes"? Well, it's true. We all wear them. We slip them on to run out to the chicken coop, over to Nancy's, up to Grandma's, out to get the paper, etc, etc, etc. If we all need to go somewhere, and the shoes have all ready been taken, we stack up at the door, like pringles...and stare, not really sure what to do. My family members can tell if someone from my family is visiting someone else's house, they just look for the family shoes, kicked off by the front door. We aren't proud...those are awesome shoes, and we all love them! I think everyone else is just jealous. And yes, I have been half way up the street or maybe even farther into town and realized that I forgot to change.

The Trouble with Traditions

As most of you know, I come from a freakishly large family which loves to spend a lot of time doing things together. This attitude didn't appear overnight. It was carefully and lovingly nurtured by generations of women before me or my sisters. When I was little time was marked by events such as Easter picnics

Family reunions, which of course included luaus
And of course the biggest end of year event- Christmas Eve

It seemed we would just get done with one event and planning would begin for the next. Everyone in my family can recall-sometimes with fondness; sometimes not- all of these traditional family events and gatherings. I still can't comprehend the idea of spending Christmas Eve quietly watching movies.

Anyway, as time has gone by and as noted in previous posts I have been blessed/cursed with the genetic desire to continue traditions. Well, it turns out that traditions take a lot of work. When I was little I didn't truly appreciate all the work that went into all the events around me. But now as I get older I appreciate the need for traditions. Not all the traditions that I had as a child have continued. We no longer do large family Easter picnics, Sunday dinners are a thing of the past, and luaus are simply a fond memory. But a few years ago I woke up one day and realized that while I couldn't do all the traditions my Grandma did, I did have the opportunity to start creating my own traditions within my family.

You see, that's the trouble with traditions, they take a lot of work or they go away. It doesn't count when you sit around and just tell your kids about the great things you did way back when. You need to actually get up...and do something. If you aren't willing to help, you deserve to not enjoy them. So...as the time gets closer for the 2011 RE Whiting Family Reunion, and I hear "well...I don't think we are going to make it this year" or as Christmas approaches and I hear "I just can't make it this time...but for sure next year" I wonder what your children will be doing in 20 years. You see, kids learn from example, if you didn't have the time for your family I wonder if they will ever have the time for you.

Traditions create a sense of stability. Something that you can count on no matter what is going on. Unfortunately, many members of my family, while they enjoy the traditions, are not willing to put the work into them. To them I say--"Quit ****ing and get to work! You think it was easy for people before? Well, they did it, so suck it up cupcake!"

The Rivers Edge

It's runoff time. Usually that means that we get dirty water in the water treatment world, which, oddly enough is actually easier to treat than clean December water. Anyway, this year we had watershed snowpack levels around 248% of normal. That means a lot of snow, add to that a nice cold spring, and you have the opportunity for a lovely runoff year. Normally the Colorado River in the summer runs around 10,000 cfs, runoff on a normal year is around 20,000 cfs. This year we are expected to peak around 34,000 cfs. While this won't be the record year of 1983 which was 40,000 cfs it's still pretty serious.

My work has been preparing for this flood for a couple months, but it wasn't until the last two weeks that we got into high gear. We have been building berms and filling sandbags, lining banks and watching the weather like crazy. Since our treatment plant is right along the river, we have to take all this seriously. In the record year of 1983, the river decided to use it's old channel, which happens to be our across our driveway, so the operators were literally boating in to work. This year we have a boat, life jackets, and plans for evacuating the building for things like documents and some of my lab equipment. Hopefully we won't have to do that.

However, since the river usually crests around 2 a.m. we have all volunteered for shifts to watch the river in the middle of the night. Mine is for Thursday morning 2-6 a.m. For some reason this has my mother and my supervisor very nervous. My supervisor, because I am the only woman who volunteered (apparently the secretaries aren't interested in being team players) and my mother because, well...she's my Mom. The crest is supposed to be here on Wednesday or Thursday, right when I will be checking. I'm not worried, but to make my Mother happy, maybe I'll give her a call so she knows I'm safe! A 3 a.m. check in should make her very happy indeed!

Rules to Live By

Well, I haven't been shy about announcing to everyone that Scott and I just celebrated our 20th wedding anniversary. After all I think that's a pretty impressive achievement considering he asked me to marry him a week after our first date... and I accepted. To say that we haven't had our share of challenges would be a lie, but, the further we go, the better it seems to get. I love being married and we still have so much fun it's hard to believe that there are people who don't like being married. Scott is my best friend, and while there are occasional rough patches, they are certainly getting fewer and fewer as time goes by.

Now, I certainly don't have all the answers to doing anything (no...I really don't), but Scott and I have developed a few rules over the years, and I thought I would share them with you.

1) When we got married a Great Uncle told Scott to never leave the house, without a kiss goodbye. Yeah, we still do that.

2) That same Great Uncle also told us to never go to bed angry...that's crap. If you want one of us to get really mean, and then meaner, and then flat out of control, keep us staying up late rehashing the problem. We tried this approach early in our marriage, it wasn't good. And as previous posts have shown...I'm a reasonable woman! Well..properly rested I am.

3) When we do have an issue we keep it to the topic at hand. When we are arguing about something we don't bring up past events, and we don't use words like "you never" or "you always".

4) No calling each other names, except for nice ones. Labels and names hurt, and you remember them for a long time.

5) We don't say things about each other to anyone else that we wouldn't say directly to each other.

6) No hitting, not ever. Not even when we are playing around and joking. No little swats, pushes, or swipes. Scott was raised in a home where physical violence occasionally reared it's ugly head. When we were first married and I playfully punched him he told me, "little hits lead to big hits and we aren't going to do that, I don't hit you and you don't hit me." He was right, and we don't.

7) We put each other first, always. We tell our kids we love them, but if the entire family was drowning and we could only save one person, it won't be either of them.

Well, there you have it. The rules for my marriage. It works for us, but, if it were foolproof I would bottle it and sell it.

Mother's Day

I was raised in a pretty unique situation. I grew up on the family ranch with lots of cousins, aunts and uncles all within a stones throw. Today, while they were talking about Mother's Day at church I was sitting in the back (like I always do) thinking about my Mom and the women in my family. As I looked up the chapel I could see my two blond aunts sitting ahead of me (apparently the Whiting boys definitely preferred blonds!), anyway, as I was saying, I started thinking about the women in my family, and how fortunate I was to be influenced, not only by my Mother, but by these other women on a pretty regular basis.

I loved the summer time when they would all gather on our front lawn in the afternoon or early evening. They would all sit and visit, catch up on the goings on, and work out the menu for the next family dinner. Between these three sister-in-laws I am pretty sure any problem could be worked out, in fact, if they had put their mind to it, they probably could have fixed any thing, ran any business, and planned a royal wedding.

Aunt Lois - Aunt Lois taught me so many things, she was the Aunt with the best cooking, the Aunt that was the Girl's Camp director, the artistic Aunt that could paint and create. Aunt Lois is extremely practical, and she showed me how to "use it up, wear it out, or do without". She was able to cook on a fire, can vegetables and carve watermelons for Luaus. Aunt Lois could work all day, and still smile at you when you were being a smart ass. Her little half chuckle-half laugh meant that you had done good.

Aunt Donna - Aunt Donna is the Aunt that never has anything bad to say, about anyone...ever. She could rewire an entire house while she was on the phone organizing a funeral meal. Aunt Donna can remember everyone, in this stake and the west, I mean not just their names, but their children's names and where their family comes from. Aunt Donna can play every piece of music on the piano that anyone has ever thrown at her and remember to take a meal into Sister Soandso. When ever I made my sarcastic remarks to Aunt Donna she would just sigh and smile, she is the Aunt with the softest and biggest heart.

Finally - my Mom. One day my Grandma Whiting was bragging about her daughters-in-law talents, when she got to my Mom she said, "and Harriet...well, you have executive abilities". We still laugh about it, but it's true. My Mom has a head for business, and she's had a head for business way before women were supposed to. She took care of all the ranch business, property maps, contracts, loans, etc. She still knows more about reservoir water rights and property assessments than I ever will. She taught me so many things, how to work, how to take care of your family, and how to have fun. She taught me that it's OK to have a bad day, but don't stay there to long. I could spend the rest of the day telling all the things my Mother taught me, but there isn't enough room on the Internet for all of it.

Anyway, these three remarkable women are the strongest women that I have ever known. They have endured through every imaginable event, loss, joy, heartache and more. They have survived, they have squared their shoulders and pushed through. The pioneers have nothing on these women. They definitely set the bar pretty high. I'm sure I won't measure up, but I'm so glad I have had the chance to know these remarkable women all of my life.

Happy Mother's Day

Reasonable Woman

Well, Erik is in the home stretch of the 5th grade. Yes, that last blissful year of elementary school. Because there are two new 5th grade teachers this year (for the first time in 25 years) they are trying to keep up a few traditions started by the previous administrations. Some of those traditions are the egg drop (a design competition in which your creation containing an egg is dropped from the top of the school), the life time line, the Blast from the Past (where they dress up as a character from history and answer questions about the famous person's life), a family tree, and a biography. I know, it sounds like they are getting ready to die...

Anyway, the biography is supposed to be 5-7 paragraphs, well thought out, about your life. Have you ever attempted to get an 11 year old boy to write a significant essay? I think when Emily did her biography it was around 17 pages. Well, finding teeth in my chickens is easier than getting Erik to write more than "I was born, I live, I like to play the Wii." We have been slowly working on this essay for about 5 days, he writes a few things, I make marks on it in red, and try to pose questions that should lead to more information. Last night I left Scott to work on the final draft because the gray hair was really coming through and I definitely needed some hair dresser attention. When I got home, Scott cheerfully told me "it's all done, and you really should read it."

The fourth paragraph was supposed to be about things Erik wanted to do in the future. What did he want to be? How many children? Where did he want to live? etc. It was reading pretty good until I saw a sentence that hadn't been there before:

"I want my wife to be a reasonable woman, like my mom, who likes to have fun."

Some may be insulted, but I take this as the highest of compliments. He doesn't even have to get me anything for Mother's Day. Oh yeah, and my new motto? "You know...I'm a reasonable woman."

Uplifting Spiritual Experience Thieves

We have a couple, let's just say they are in our Stake, who love to "recycle" stories from the Ensign 40 years ago. Unfortunately, there are a lot of people who don't realize that these people do that. As a result they are often regarded as "spiritual giants". I view them as a plagiarists, and...let's just say it, liars. Over the years my family has engaged in a little game we like to play whenever one of these people is speaking at a church meeting, it's called "name the Ensign they stole that story from", there are extra points if you can name the General Authority as well. Anyway, my family (because we never forget anything) can name literally dozens of examples of this behaviour.

What absolutely amazes us is the number of people who believe that this one couple has had all these wonderful, poignant, life changing experiences. They manage to make every one of them sound so personal. I wonder sometimes, if they take turns telling the stories to each other in order to get all the voice inflections and emotional turning points sounding just right. Maybe they practice in front of a mirror, in order to get all the facial expressions perfected.

Additionally, this couple also has a lot of people believing that they have personal relationships with some of the General Authorities, and are special consultants on many church programs. Well, that all sounds so special...except that when you have known these particular people for many years, you begin to pick up on a couple of the idiosyncrasies. You remember the failed businesses, which years later, they claim were such successes. You remember their children and how that story isn't quite how you remember it. You remember that all those stories simply don't add up.

One of the problems with living in the ward or stake that you grew up in, is that you know way to much about all of the other people who grew up here. But, the reverse is also true, I'm sure they know way to much about me. That's ok, I won't deny my mistakes of childhood, teenage years, or even college years. That's part of life. But stealing life changing, spiritually uplifting stories from others...pretty sure there is someone keeping track of that, not just the Whiting clan.

Tax Time

OK, it has taken me about this much time since tax day to actually calm down enough to blog. If you are a person who gets a big fat IRS "refund" you should probably stop reading right now...because this is just going to tick you off.

I don't get refunds, I don't even remember the last time I did, and I certainly have never gotten a check from the IRS for more than a few hundred dollars. Yup, I'm one of those people who actually pay taxes. In answer to your questions, yes, I do have money held out of our paychecks, Scott claims 1 and I claim 2. Yes, we do know how to fill out our tax documents and occasionally have had them professionally done. No, I don't cheat on our taxes. Yes, I do claim all my deductions.

You see the problem is that Scott and I just pretty much work our ****es off, and as a result the federal government seeks to penalize that by making us pay more. I don't get the "earned income tax credit", I have never received section 8 housing support, never had food stamps, never had reduced lunches for my children at school, never had help with my utility bills, medicaid or subsidized anything. One time Scott got laid off from a job and the unemployment office decided that since he had a retirement from the US Military he was entitled to $40 per week of unemployment, boy did that really help. We drew that for about 5 months.

Now for the part where I make some people angry. If you got a really big refund from "Uncle" Sam, do you really think you actually overpaid? Are you that stupid? Look at the actual numbers, if you are that capable, and realize that you are simply being paid for your inability to succeed. That's right, you are a bunch of leaches sucking off people that are actually paying their way. Do you think that money just shows up? They estimate that the bottom 50% of wage earners in this country have virtually zero tax liability. So now I will explain what that means for those people, it means that if you don't work as hard as 50% of the population, the US Government will steal money from people that are working harder and give it back to you. The top 10% of wage earners pay 71% of the taxes in this country. Now you may say, "Well, they should, they make a bunch of money." Except that guess what the cut off is for the top 10%...this year it was estimated at households that make more than $108,000.

Scott and I did not chose to have children we could not afford, we drive older cars that are paid for, we don't default on our responsibilities, we go to work every day, we deal with bosses and co-workers who sometimes annoy us, we go to work when we are tired, we pay for our children, we pay for our food, we pay for our health care, we pay our mortgage, we pay our insurance, and most of all we don't expect anyone or anything else to pay for us.

Forgive me if at times I become frustrated with you for your excuses, but since when did your stupidity and bad judgement become my responsibility? Apparently, it was when the US Government decided to use it's power to force me to pay for you.

Huh...haven't done that in a long time...

I used to sing. No really, I did. I was in all kinds of choirs in high school, including the "elite" Octavos. I enjoyed singing, what I didn't enjoy was the issues so many music people have. My father tried to warn me, you see, his mother, my beloved Grandma Whiting was a music person. She was a guest soloist at the first radio broadcast of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. My Grandma Whiting was a wonderful person, and she had some awesome qualities, but she was a force to be reckoned with when it came to music and productions.

I pretty much decided that I was done singing when my high school choir director got mad, threw down his baton, ran into his office and slammed the door. Granted, it was his first year of teaching and we were a pretty mouthy bunch of high schoolers. Anyway, I didn't pursue it when I went to college. At one point I did have to go to the director of the music department to drop a class, and when he saw the form, he looked up and said, "So you're the Whiting I heard about that could sing." I just smiled, thanked him for signing it and left.

So for that last 20 years, it has just been a few little songs here or there-a funeral, a Relief Society lesson, etc. About 9 years ago I did have an inch of my trachea removed because of some scar tissue build up, and I never really planned on singing again, so I was surprised about 6 weeks ago when I got a call from the stake Relief Society about singing in a choir for a Women's Conference with Janice Kapp Perry. Well, I have good days and not so good days, but I gave it a try.

It has been a really long time since I worried about breathing, diction, crescendos, etc. but it brought back a lot of memories from way back when. Well, after it was all over, it turned out to be pretty good, and I guess we sounded ok, anyway, we got a lot of compliments. Maybe I'll do it again, well until someone throws another temper tantrum.

Death by Chocolate Trigonometry

All right, I can't help it...we are a pretty nerdy family. There, I said it, my daughter loves, and I mean LOVES math. She's taking trig as a sophomore and is doing, well, let's just say really good. Anyway, she climbed in the van the other night after tennis practice (that's a whole other blog entry) and started to tell me about her trigonometry assignment that was due next week.

Emily: Mom, I have a big trigonometry assignment we...blah blah blah blah (at this point my eyes have glazed over)... so I thought I would make a big cake (oh, something that caught my attention) and then I would....blah blah blah....with cupcakes around it. What do you think?

Admittedly the only thing I understood was that I needed to make a big cake, and some cupcakes and have stuff for her to draw on the cake with. I told that sounded great, when was it due? I remembered that Allison the Younger had a ginormous cake pan (ok, it was really a 16" round) left over from a smiley face cake she made a couple years ago. So I snagged that, then I called her and asked how many cake mixes it takes to make a cake that big, turns out it was 4! The whole thing turned into a family project that consisted of me making the cake and cupcakes, Scott finding some plywood that we could support a cake that bigon and creating a cover that wouldn't mess it up, Emily doing all the decorating and figures, and of course her little brother making comments such as "I can't believe you're doing your homework on a cake!"

Well, Scott and Emily took it to her teacher this morning and...needless to say, it was a hit.

Oh, it's that time again..

Yes, it is that time again, when I rant and rave about the pathetic casualization of members of my faith. Once again Emily and I attended what should have been a nice, church dress, New Beginnings program (and I use the term program loosely). I worked all day, Emily had to stay after school, so we had to hurry home to change and get back into the chapel. Now, I will admit, I was tempted to just wear what I had on, but in all good conscience I couldn't do it. So "suited up" Emily asked me on the way in if I thought we would be the only ones there in church dress, I told her, "I'm afraid so, but just because they have lowered their standards doesn't mean I will lower ours."

Sure enough, they stared dazedly at us, as if we were the confused ones. However, I was soon justified when--- glory be...the stake leaders showed up in dresses!! Don't worry, I'm sure all the ward young women and their leaders still felt right at home in their skin tight jeans, athletic shorts and yes...even some sweat pants.

In fact one of the leaders in front of Emily and I (slouching in her tennis shoes and fleece jogging jacket) was commenting to another leader "I'm glad I only have boys, I just couldn't get into the whole girl thing." And my only thought was, "I'm glad you only have boys too, at least they won't learn how to dress from you". I know that sounds pretty mean, but I don't care. They all own dresses - I've seen them wearing them on Sunday.

There are two major programs each year associated with the Young Women's Program, New Beginnings and Evening of Excellence. Neither of these programs are surprise parties- aka they should be planned well in advanced, not..."hey you're here! Want to read a part in this skit I just downloaded from the Internet? I don't have the props, in fact I only have one copy of the skit and it requires 4 girls, but hey let's all have a goofy fun time."

Gee...I wonder why they have such a hard time getting girls to earn their Young Womenhood Award.

Apparently, it could be worse...

Believe it or not, there are a few things I don't share with everyone. I know, that is hard to believe since I feel like I tell everyone everything! But I have had quite a few challenges in the last six months which I have, shall we say, kept pretty close to the vest. The other night, I was reminiscing about the last couple weeks, since I kissed 2010 away and welcomed in 2011, thinking...there is no way it could be as bad as last year. I went to bed thinking so far for 2011, our challenges are pretty darn good. Then I had the dream.....

I dreamed my darling 15 year old announced she was pregnant. The father, a boy she doesn't have an interest for in real life, is a very nice young man. I dreamed they were almost as surprised as her Mom and Dad were. Of course my plans in the dream were to send her live with her Aunt Donna, and give that child to someone who needed it.

Then I woke up, and realized that as bad as my challenges have been in the last couple months, apparently... they could have been worse!