A Tale of Three Cameras

Let me begin this post by warning you that I am a melancholy soul as of late. I find I cry at the drop of a hat and all I can blame it on is mental exhaustion and the holiday season. This morning I was emotional over the fact that Randy wasn't with us in chruch today. It's the first Sunday before Christmas that we haven't been in church together. Then I get emotional over the fact that I'm feeling sorry for myself about that and there are people in this world who are spending their second Christmas away from their families while they serve in Iraq or Afghanistan. Then I sit with the choir and during the closing song, I glance at the two Shumway sisters sitting in front of me and it hits me how much I miss singing with my younger sister. (Sorry, Bear. Now you're crying, too.) Then I can't sing anymore and cry all the way through the closing prayer while I'm trying really hard to STOP crying.

So that is all to warn you that what happened when we got home from church ended with a big puddle of more tears.

But this story really starts about six weeks ago.

It was a nice Saturday. The men decided to take the kids shooting and I was so grateful. I needed quiet time to study. I was getting set to leave the house and Randy was in the garage. I asked him to please take pictures of the kids for me while they were shooting. He said he would. His truck was locked and his hands were full and his keys were in his pocket. He was already irritated with something and I didn't want to make him any more irritated by asking him to stop whatever he was doing and unlock the truck. He looked at me; I swear he watched me. I said, "The camera is right here." And I hung it on the side mirror. A few hours later, Randy called me. "Hey, where'd you put the camera?" I panicked. He loaded up the kids and took the same route home. No camera. We put the two older boys on bikes and had them ride the route (it was just a few miles from our house) and they didn't have any luck. Randy and I got in the van and drove the route. No camera. We talked to neighbors up and down the street and around the corner. No sign of a camera. So I'm not only out our digital camera, I'm also out the pictures that were on the memory card because I HADN'T DOWNLOADED ANY OF THEM YET! What was on there? The entire trip to Oregon in August. The first day of school. Birthdays. Pretty much all of 2008. I cried for a good afternoon. That's the first camera.

So the day after Thanksgiving, I get up at 4:30 in the morning (an hour I'm seeing way too much of lately) and my sister-in-law and I go shopping. There are some great deals on digital cameras and I'm going to buy a new one. I love shopping on Black Friday, by the way. I love the crowds and the energy and I even like the cranky people. (But really, if you're just going to get out of bed that early and be cranky, stay home! Early morning shopping should be reserved for happy people only!) I bought a new camera and I was pretty sure I was going to be happy with it. It wasn't a whole lot of money, but it was $70 off the regular price and it will do what I need it to do. Because I'm in the thick of finals, I don't do anything with it for a few days. On the next Thursday, I find a few quiet minutes to look it over, play with it a little, and give myself approval for a decent camera. I put everything away back in the box and leave it on the floor next to the computer desk. Friday after lunch, I decide to put the memory card in the camera, except I can't find the camera. I look everywhere in my house. Literally. Finally, I think that maybe Randy moved it. He'd just come off nights and was sleeping. I wake him up and when he's finally coherent, he says he hasn't touched it. When I go back downstairs, I realize what has happened. I don't want to believe it, but my brain knows it and I start to cry. Hoping against hope, I drive to the intermediate school and get Braxton out of class. I ask him if he threw a yellow camera box away when he hauled garbages this morning. He certainly did. Then I tell him the camera was still in the box. My poor little 6th grader closes his eyes and leans his head against the lockers in the hallway. "Mom, I'm so sorry. It didn't even make any noise. I thought is was empty." It's not his fault. Braxton was trying to be more responsible and do his chores (for once). Friday is garbage day so our garbage has already been hauled to the dump. Randy calls the sanitation people who inform him that they run three trucks on Friday and each truck makes about seven runs. 21 loads of garbage. We're welcome to go see if we can find it, but we decide it isn't worth it. Tears for a full day. That was the second camera.

And that brings us to today. We have a tradition to take pictures after church on the Sunday before Christmas in front of the Christmas tree. I was excited as I drove home from church thinking how fun it would be to blog about the pictures and look at pictures from the past several years. I've been using a borrowed camera for the last few weeks while Randy and I try to make some decisions about what we want to do. I'm working on setting up the camera for self-timer when I discover McKay is drinking milk in the living room. I tell him to go to the kitchen and he decides to drink it fast. Milk spills all over him and the floor. I drag him to the kitchen and clean him up, then go clean up the floor. When I take the towel back to the kitchen, I hear Tanner holler, "McKay! No!" and then there's a thump. The borrowed digital camera is on the floor. I kneel down to pick it up and it won't focus. I turn it off, then back on, and it automatically shuts back off again. The lense isn't moving like it should. It's making strange noises. I kneel on the floor with the camera in my lap and start to cry. I tell my kids to go change their clothes; there won't be any pictures today. That was camera three.

There may be hope for camera three. At least I know where it is. I'll take it to the camera store tomorrow and see if anything can be done. Time for some serious prayers. And I might just swear off cameras.

Piano Party

Today was my annual piano Christmas party. Four years ago I did a Christmas recital and a the next year attempted a Christmas sing-a-long. Two years ago I decided we all needed one less thing to do. So began my Christmas party. I believe my students need the opportunity to perform publicly and to hear each other and build a community of fellow musicians. (Note: Last year, I called the nursing home to inquire about playing there. They don't have a piano.) My students come to my house prepared to play a Christmas carol for each other, we play games, eat treats, and it's very relaxed.

When I only spend 30 minutes per week with each student, it takes about six months to get to know them. The Christmas party allows me an opportunity to get to know my students better and observe them in a different setting.


I also like to see how my students interact with each other. I think I'm pretty lucky in that I have terrific students. The older ones really help take care of the younger ones. They are all friends. This has nothing to do with their piano abilities and everything to do with the good parents raising them. Except for that little blond girl up there (who happens to be my daughter). She looks crabby. Wish I knew what was going through her mind.






I wish I could say that they all played wonderfully, but they didn't. I think Mallory had a perfect performance today. But that doesn't matter. What matters is that I had 11 children running around my house in stocking feet and sharing in the joy that music brings.

Baked Out

As much as my Scrooge complains about Christmas, there is one thing he loves: baking season. Some treats I only make once a year.


Mixed nut brittle has too much buttery-sugary goodness to be made more than once a year. My kids love the breaking-up part. It means we were successful.

My fudge melts in your mouth. Unfortunately, this pan was accessible to a certain 2-year-old and his little fingerprints ended up in one end. Guess we'll keep that part.

And that part is quickly disappearing.

And while I took a picture of Braxton trying to sneak some fudge, that darn 2-year-old found the fudge I hadn't wrapped yet! Guess we'll keep this part, too. Scrooge was very disappointed with this turn of events.

Do I sound convincing?

Next seasonal treat: gingersnaps. I love this recipe I got from April because the cookies are soft and delicious. And it's one of those great recipes that the kids can help with.

I'm not very patient with the roll-into-a-ball-and-roll-in-sugar process. That's where the kids come in. Kilee did all the gingersnaps.

This year I finally got smart and figured out an assembly line process for my thumbprint cookies. 9 dozen cookies in 30 minutes. And Scrooge even took this picture. He also took some not-so-flattering picts, too. Those will not be posted on my blog.

Growing up, one of my favorite holiday things to do was make gingerbread houses. My mom has a recipe to make your own gingerbread and the patterns for the house. We'd make them and put them together. My favorite part of the house was usually the roof. We used Andes mints for shingles. My kids love this, too. Our little house doesn't look nearly as wonderful as Vicki's (go see her kids' house by clicking on the Jeppsen Family blog, below). However, I'm sure we had just as much fun and the whole idea is about creating memories, anyway.

The treats are baked and delivered. My holiday baking is nearly done. Most of the goodies are given away (my scale said I had to), but some are still lurking in places where I can use them to sweeten up my scrooge.

Holiday baking....otherswise known as bribes. :)

Post Script

I've heard some grief today over publicly calling my husband a scrooge. What's wrong with a little (or a lot) honesty? Randy is a scrooge. He knows he's a scrooge. I know he's a scrooge. My entire family knows he is a scrooge. I think his children even know he's a scrooge. Christmas is his least favorite holiday. He tolerates my excitement and joy. He grumbles about the Christmas tree and decorations and baking and how stressed out I get. He does not enjoy caroling or shopping; I love both. He does not like to get out of bed early on Christmas morning and I can't stand to sleep past 5:00 or so. When it comes to Christmas, we are polar opposites. So in a home where one of us loves the season and everything that comes with it, yes, he is a scrooge.

It doesn't mean I love him any less.

Happy Holidays!

Scrooge Lives Here!

I've never been so late getting Christmas decorations up. Never. The tree is usually up Saturday or Sunday after Thanksgiving and finished by Monday night for Family Home Evening. All the other decorations come out that same week and the house is decked out in red, green, and gold.

Well, not this year.

Scrooge lives here.

I know he's tired when he gets home from work, but it's not that big of a deal to bring the tree in from the garage (or is it?). If I had a big enough house, I could just leave the tree decorated all year, wrap a giant tree bag over it and store it decorated and all. But I'm not like some people I know (my mom), so I have to take apart the tree every year. And it's my fault for wanting a 7 and 1/2 foot pre-lit tree. That sucker is heavy! But it is finally up and sort of decorated. I've had a lot of help this year.

I'm not sure what the fascination is for McKay with wrapping and unwrapping the ribbon and relocating the ornaments. Today I caught him stuffing Kilee's stuffed penguin as far in the tree as he possibly could. So much for a pretty tree, but at least it's up! This year we have two trees. We finally have one in the basement that is the kids' tree. Tanner and Kilee spent one whole evening making paper chains to put on it. It has a mish-mash of ornaments from years past. I let the kids decorate it and do whatever with it. It's theirs. McKay, of course, thinks the one upstairs is his.

On Sunday I must have complained enough because the rest of the Christmas decorations came in from the garage. Now we have my nativities and my Old World Santa.

This nativity came to me from Bethlehem. My student, Dina Khair, was born and raised in Bethlehem. She went home for six weeks this summer and asked me what I wanted her to bring me. I requested a nativity. This is olive wood and beautiful.

This nativity I've had for a long time. The kids like playing with the pieces.

This old world Santa (on the left) I've had since I was 19 (16 years - probably the thing I've owned the longest). It was a gift from my friend and co-worker, Charlene, who did ceramics in her spare time. This is priceless to me and my kids DO NOT get to touch it. They do, however, get to play with the nativity snow globe and the stackable doll Santa things.

My Christmas clock plays a different carol each hour and Scrooge sometimes gets annoyed when it plays late at night or early in the morning. As for me, it gives me a new carol to hum each hour.

The stockings (not the family, just the ones Santa uses) are hanging. (English note: Did you know that the past tense of "hang" is "hanged" not "hung"? So really, the poem should be "The stockings were hanged by the chimney with care." I know, if you look closely, my blog title is wrong. But I figured I'd get less comments if I used the common vernacular "hung" and not the grammatically correct "hanged". Most people don't know and would think I was stupid for saying "hanged" when really, THEY are the ones who don't know. I just didn't want to make any of you feel stupid, K?)

Look! I even have some presents under the tree! Truth be told, those are all from other people (my mom and dad and Dallas and Bethany), but still! There they are! Scrooge couldn't prevent it!

What Scrooge really can't prevent, though, is the joy of children. And this one, in particular, has Scrooge wrapped around his finger. Okay- maybe his momma, too. And April. And maybe Vicki. Definitely Jason. And Nash. And probably Brad, even though Brad has no idea what to do with him.

All you have to do is grab the camera and say, "McKay, say cheese!" and Scrooge melts at the boy who stole his heart.

Cruise Shopping!

It all started when Mary got this bright idea to go on a cruise and invited us all to come. The next thing you know, we're in Salt Lake City shopping! You know us women: we'll use any excuse to get to town and SHOP!

Saturday morning found us on the road by 6:45 a.m., much to Mary's dismay. We had to do some talking to get her to agree to the early departure, and she really doesn't look too bad for the early hour.

Mary (left) and April got the back seat of Vicki's spacious Mazda CX9. I have the shortest legs and should have been in the back, but nobody wanted to trade with me. Not that I argued too much; Vicki's car has bun warmers.

I don't look too bad for the early hour, either. I was going to crop more out of this photo, but if you look in the rearview mirror, you can see April taking my picture. But don't look too closely at this photo because --GASP -- I can see wrinkles around my eyes. I'm only 35!

But back to business. This is a shopping excursion, after all. We got down to business at the South Towne Mall. I actually made the first purchase of the day.

Not that you can tell in the picture above, but this little black velvet dress will be perfect for the more formal captain's dinner on the cruise; I just need some sexy little high-heeled black sandals to go with it. Then it was off to shop for April and Mary.

We put Vicki to work picking out clothes for April. We were at the mall and there was a lot to choose from. Unfortunately, there were a lot of No's at the beginning. But then lunch got into our blood stream and we frequented a certain soft-porn store (for April) and it was all downhill from there!

So on this particular day, panties were on sale 3 for $30. Frankly, that's outrageous! Ten bucks for a string? But that's beside the point. Check out April and bra-sales lady trying to make some decisions. After April had decided what she THOUGHT she wanted, we stepped in and changed her mind.

Who knew there were so many possibilites? All in white, no less. I tried to talk April into a color - ANY color - but I failed. At this soft-porn store, they had the rainbow!

They also had bras with pockets so you could choose the level of "support" you wanted. Who knew?

They also had great benches in the dressing rooms and wonderfully large mirrors (see still another white bra?). Since April was mostly covered while she tried on new levels of support, we just took our front row seats and gave plenty of opinions. I hope Robert doesn't mind the modifications to April's wardrobe.

At one store, Vicki and I got both Mary and April trying on clothes. Vicki and I were runners and opinion-givers. The sales ladies at this particular store (I don't remember the name of the store) were outstanding. There were a lot of No's at this store, but I think Mary and April tried on the whole store.

There were some to take home, though.

And some more to take home.

And eventually, the back of Vicki's car looked like this. We all have bags in there; those aren't just Mary and April's. It should be noted that I had the camera and couldn't really take pictures of myself shopping. Dang it all. I'm really broken up over that.

Evening found us at the beautiful home of my aunt and uncle. This photo (taken Sunday morning) is the foyer. We visited for a few minutes and then we were off to dinner at the Olive Garden and then The Forgotten Carols. Sunday morning we attended church with my aunt and then hit the road for home.

We had to make a pit-stop, of course. The car needed refueling. Can you believe how good Vicki looks just putting gas in the car? I believe it was Robert who said that Vicki can even make a school bus look good. (It should be noted that Vicki is just as beautiful on the inside as she is on the outside.)

The car was not the only thing needing refueling. Mary stole my camera and look what she did! She took my picture! But not before I got a picture of one of my favorite places:

Guess who's behind the door? (I think that's why she confiscated my camera.) Four children has left me with an itty-bitty bladder and I don't think anyone on this trip visited these convenient places more than me.

And living in Nevada, you learn to take those rooms when you can get them. This landscape doesn't allow for squatting behind a bush.

Because there aren't any.



And then after a few hours of this landscape, you get bored enough to take pictures of someone's polka-dot socks. Cute, aren't they?


We had a great weekend but I think we were all ready to be home and be with our families again.

Okay, so maybe I was the only one ready to be home.

Odds and Ends

I read an article yesterday while sitting in the dentist's chair about the new James Bond film and it reminded me that I never followed up after my Bond-James-Bond post. Randy and I did go see it and I did enjoy it. However, I think it should be noted that there were no gadgets; there was no visit to the gadget factory in London where Q always worked. That was disappointing. James didn't get the girl at the end. That wasn't entirely disappointing, but it strayed from the tradition of James Bond. Also, the only place the James Bond theme was played was at the beginning of the movie and again when the credits were rolling.

Then I went to see Twilight with my girlfriends. I don't think Vicki likes that I talk during movies. Sorry, Vicki. Anyway, let's just get something straight: The book is ALWAYS better than the movie. (That rule only applies when the book comes first.) The book was better, but the movie was fine. Mary pointed out some interesting things- stalking, for one. Obsession, for another. I didn't just see Twilight once; I went again on Thanksgiving day with my beautiful, pregnant, positive and always happy sister-in-law, Bethany. I think it was better the second time. It beat Madagscar 2, which Bethany and I got out of with the "Dallas, if you don't let me go with Bethany to Twilight here, you'll have to take her when you get back to Boise" routine. (Randy and Dallas took four kids to Madagscar 2 and it got rave reviews from a 6, 9, and 11-year-old.)

What movie is next? How about the film "Clean your house really well because finals are over and you fired the housekeeper." Hmm, think I'll just find a new housekeeper (that actually comes!). Maybe the movie "Get the fake Christmas tree out of the garage and into the house and decorate it." That movie takes a lot of motivation to go see. I think the movie I really want to see though is "Read the stack of books sitting on your nightstand because you have time now and register for the cruise and book your shore excursions and get Christmas cards done this year because you didn't do them last year and finish your Christmas shopping and get those packages in the mail."

That's a terrific run-on sentence, not to mention a really long title for a movie. Maybe I'll skip all of those and go see Four Christmases. I think that's a better option. Hey girls, want to go to a movie? Vicki- I promise not to talk.

'Twas the Week Before Finals

And all through the house
All the creatures are stirring
Coughing up a lung, or two!

So I was never really good at poetry. However, it's time to post something new, say goodbye to James, and focus on finals. And, oh yah, Thanksgiving. All of that is hard to do when 66% of the household is blowing noses and coughing all night long. It makes it difficult to sleep. And the lack of sleep makes it difficult to be very effective at anything during the day. And the lack of effectivity (is that a word?) causes huge piles of unfolded clothes and sacks of groceries laying about.

Yes, it is laying, not lying. Just taught this concept to my wonderful freshmen this past week.

And no, there are no pictures of laundry or groceries for your viewing pleasure as it seems I've lost my digital camera. Lost. Let's not discuss it because I'm prone to tears.

So how does that poem end?

And I heard her exclaim
As she drove out of sight:
I'm driving away!
Have a good night!

I told you - I'm no good at poems.

Bond. James Bond.

I love James Bond. My husband loves James Bond. My dad and four brothers love James Bond. In fact, they love him so much that two years ago, that's how they threw my youngest brother a bachelor party. They took him to see James Bond.

I started watching Bond flicks when I was younger. I'm not sure how much younger, but probably 11 or 12. Who lets their 11-year-old watch James Bond? My dad. I'm sure it counted as quality time for him. I'm sure I didn't get the inuendos at that tender age, but I knew that Bond always escaped calamity and he always got the girl.

I started watching Bond when Roger Moore was Agent 007. As Bonds go, he was a good Bond. If you disagree, you could compare him to the idiot that came after him. Oh-that would be this guy:Timothy Dalton. He was a hottie...NOT! Dalton did two Bond films. The second one, "License to Kill" is my least favorite Bond flick. Too much gore in that one. As long as we're talking least favorites, let me just point out that "On Her Majesty's Secret Service" starred George Lazenby and is my second least favorite. George only got to live as Bond once. Incidentally, George came between the King of Bond. Sean Connery. Sean was the original James Bond. Then George did that one, and Sean had to come back to save the franchise. All total, Sir Sean Connery (who is Scottish) did seven Bond films. After the unfortunate Timothy Dalton, though, the Bond people decided that they really needed a MAN to play Bond. Ahhh. Pierce Brosnan. Yeah, that picture just makes me sigh. However, if you have seen the recent movie "Mamma Mia," you may never look at this Bond guy quite the same. Pierce did four Bond films and then we got to move on this hottie:The jury is still out on Daniel Craig, but I LOVE LOVE LOVE those blue eyes. And really, with all these guys, how can you resist that accent? Is it any wonder that James always gets the girl?

Quantum of Solace opens this weekend in America. You can bet we'll be there to see it. Are you kidding? More gadgets (still miss Q), more of Dame Judi Dench (love her as M), and Bond. James Bond.

Locks of Love

This is my Kilee on her 6th birthday last June. Notice the long blonde hair. (Why is blonde sometimes spelled with an "e" and sometimes not?) Please do not notice the sweet little neighbor girl with her dress pulled up. If I were any good with a camera or picture software, I would know how to edit that out. But I'm no good and I'm waiting for Vicki to buy Photoshop and figure it all out and then teach me. When that happens, I'll edit my photos. Until then, please ignore the sweet neighbor girl.

Kilee has been letting her hair grow for quite some time. I can't remember, exactly, when we started just letting it grow, but I do remember when we decided to cut it.

Last March, one of Kilee's friends, Behle, cut off her beautiful long brown hair. But Behle didn't just let it fall to the floor in a pile of discarded hair. Behle put it in a pony tail and then Jenn, her stylist, literally chopped her hair off above the rubber band. Then Behle's mom sent the beautiful pony tail of hair off to Locks of Love. Locks of Love is a not-for profit organization that provides hair pieces to disadvantaged children suffering from long-term medical hair loss. It takes six pony tails to make one wig.

We let her hair grow until we had ten inches to cut off. Then off to the stylist we went. One last look at the pretty hair that I loved to braid. Kilee didn't hesitate. One pony tail and some serious chopping through the hair and wa-la! One sixth of a wig for a disadvantaged child in need of hair.

And now, cute, short hair that requires a lot less shampoo and conditioner, dries twice as fast, and she can fix herself. Keeping it short? Nah. This mom misses the braids.

Playing Dress-Up

I don't remember much about Halloween costumes. I think I went as a hill-billy once. I do remember a Pippy Longstocking. But that's about it. Does that mean that when my kids are grown they won't remember what they were?

Does it mean they won't remember the search for swords, the cutting of sashes, the feathering of hats? Will Tanner (on the left) remember the fit he pitched over wearing tights? Will Braxton (middle) remember looking at images of the Three Musketeers online? Will Logan (on the right) ever figure out that the "colored pencil" we used to draw on his mustache really was eye liner (make-up! ewww!)?





Will Kilee (in the middle of her brothers now) remember adamantly refusing to let me spray black on her hair? I thought she would have liked the black hair. Don't witches have black hair?

Will Jess (here with older brother Logan and older vampire sister Behle) remember that he was Spider Man two years in a row?

No, I don't think they'll remember any of that. I'd like to think, though, that they will remember trick-or-treating with their friends, taking care of Dalmation McKay (for two years in a row), staying up late, and sleeping on the floor. Those are the memories that I hope stay with them for a life time.