Toss Your Cares and Curls Away

23 Mar

I’ve been considering getting my hair cut for 3 months. The traditional “I have a new baby haircut.” I didn’t want to cut it just because though. However, I’ve gotten so tired of fixing my hair and styling my hair that I was ready to break something with my flat iron. My hair had got longer than it’s been in 13 years. I fixed it beautifully many times. Sadly, I have no pictures of those amazing hairdos because I’m always behind the camera–which is really sad since I take such poorly composed photos and can’t seem to drum up enough energy to care.

But, like I said, I was done with the fuss and getting out the door is such an ordeal these days–I wanted to simplify the process. Plus my scalp has gone insane. I blame hormones.

Here is a before picture. See I couldn’t even bring myself to fix it for posterity.

Here is the picture I took to the hair salon:

Wouldn’t that have been stunning? Sigh.

Here is what I got:

It’s not even close. I wanted angled. I got square. Blocky. Totally wrong for my face, and completely NOT WHAT I SPECIFICALLY ASKED FOR.

At first, I thought maybe it was just because I made such a drastic change that I was having problems with the cut. But I realized it was really because I didn’t get what I asked for. After some encouragement from friends, I went back to the salon and a different stylist fixed it as much as she could to be actually an angled bob.

This I can live with.
Part of me feels like I was being shallow to fuss so much about a haircut that was probably fine. The other part of me is like

I SHOWED HER A PICTURE! HOW COULD SHE GET IT SO COMPLETELY WRONG?

2 Samuel 14:26
And when he polled his head, (for it was at every year’s end that he polled it: because the hair was heavy on him, therefore he polled it:) he weighed the hair of his head at two hundred shekels after the king’s weight.

P.S. My scale reads no differently after my haircut. Stupid scale.

Music and Spring

15 Mar

I grew up listening to Bach, Mozart, and Beethoven. I think it was my dad’s goal to make sure we kids knew what good music was. I never really paid attention to exactly what we were listening to, I just listened to it. What I mean is, at the time, I couldn’t have told you whether I was listening to Mozart or Beethoven. I just knew I liked it. I do know that my favorite album he had was a collection of famous waltzes from ballets. I’ve searched for that collection for several years and not been able to find it. However, this post is not about that collection. This post is about a moment in my life and the power of music and how grateful I am.

So you, my faithful readers, may not know that I was in the National Guard for 8 years. Which means that I went to basic training for 10 weeks (they told me 8, but there was a week zero, plus a few extra days on the end) and then Advanced Individual Training (AIT) for 5 weeks. I was 19 and had never been away from my family for even half that amount of time. I plunged into an environment where swear words and anger were the majority of what I heard and saw. I was pushed well beyond what I had believed were the limits of my physical endurance. During the weeks of basic training, I learned to escape the anger and cussing by singing children’s songs from church in my head. On my own during KP duty, I dared to whisper the words under my breath.

When I got to AIT, things were a little different. We had more freedom and we were allowed to listen to walkmans in our free time. (Yes, this was before iPods.) Three of the four other girls who slept in my room had walkmans and their favorite music to listen to was this rap star, Tupok. I guess I’m lucky they didn’t let us have boomboxes, or I’d have had to actually listen to him too–as it was, I had to listen to them singing (does one sing rap?), and those girls did not edit his songs for cussing, maybe because they would have had to skip 2 out of every 3 words.

I was feeling more and more down all the time. I was missing my family and surrounded by all the anger and cussing and yuck. Also, because of training schedules and misinformation and bad luck, I hadn’t been able to attend church for 4 weeks. I was really getting desperate. One Saturday, we were allowed to go to the big Post Exchange. As I wandered around, I saw a stack of CD’s on sale. Right in front was one that read
Antonio Vivaldi
The Four Seasons

Across my mind flashed an image of a cassette tape with the words “The Four Seasons” printed on it. I knew this was music my dad owned. I knew I had listened to it before. The CD was on sale for $3.00. I am sure now it was there for me, at a price I would pay. (I rarely ever spent money back then. I didn’t even know how to use the debit card my credit union had sent me and most vendors don’t take checks from WAY out of state.) I bought that CD (they took my check), not even knowing what it would sound like. I think maybe I had a vague idea that “The Four Seasons” were like “The Mammas & The Papas.” I just knew my dad owned it and I needed something from home. I went back to the barracks, borrowed someone’s walkman, and snapped the CD in. It turns out I knew the music well; I just hadn’t known its name.

The first chord was as familiar to me as my own bones and my whole soul sang along with that beautiful music. It lifted me right out of the dark pit I had sunk into and gave me the strength to keep on. The next morning, I was finally able to catch the right bus at the right time and attend Sacrament Meeting. It was a miracle –two miracles sent just for me.

For my soul delighteth in the song of the heart; yea, the song of the righteous is a prayer unto me, and it shall be answered with a blessing upon their heads. D&C 25:12

The Lord is my strength and song, and is become my salvation. Psalms 118:14

One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Fish Tacos!

6 Mar

I have to admit, I’ve always been a little suspicious of fish tacos. How could they really be good? (I feel the same way about fish soup.)

BUT

a couple months ago, The Man of the House made fish tacos. (I’m just now blogging about it because I’m a slacker like that.)

Those fish tacos were super tasty. He used this Alton Brown recipe.

He has made them twice now, and we think it is better to leave the cilantro out, or just use it as a garnish–and I love cilantro–it just makes the rub too watered down. Also, use tilapia or another white fish like Alton Brown says. Ahi Tuna wasn’t quite right.

The best part of the fish tacos that he made was that whitest sauce you see there.

AH! YUM! It was rich and good like hollandaise sauce. I can’t wait for June to try it on asparagus.

Mayonnaise, 1/2 cup
Plain Yogurt, 1/2 cup
Lemon juice, 3 tablespoons

I’m dreaming of fish tacos..why hasn’t he made them again???…maybe I should buy some more fish!

Family Home Evening

28 Feb

This is how I pictured it going:

It went more like this:

and this:

Sorry to our guest. I hope you still want to have kids someday.

DAD

28 Feb

Baby Dumpling is two months old!

23 Feb
Baby Dumpling/Banana Cream Pie

2 Months Old

15 Feb

Baby Dumpling is 2 months old! Now she

Smiles on purpose

Makes cooing noises when happy

Is distracted by dark objects and movement

Sleeps 6 or 7 hours a night (can I just say “WOW!”-none of the other baby pies did that)

Eats hungrily all the time so I get to feed her and read, read, read. I love it!

In the last month I’ve read:

Return of the Native by Thomas Hardy
Into the Wild by Jon Krakauer
Austenland by Shannon Hale
The Story of My Life by Hellen Keller (condensed)
The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins
Scarlet Sails by Alexander Green (translated from Russian by Thomas P Whitney)
Heaven is for Real by…Todd Burpo
My Sergei: A Love Story by Ekaterina Gordeeva
and half of The Jane Austen Book Club by Karen Joy Fowler

There are perks to being the Stay-Home Mom, and nursing a new baby is one of them.

For those of you who are interested in my opinion of what I read, (because I’m witty and brilliant and you wish you were in my book club)

Return of the Native by Thomas Hardy–This is at least the 2nd time I’ve read it. It is not my favorite by Hardy, but still good. I read it first when I was 13 or 14. I was in love with Diggory Venn and couldn’t believe that Hardy had originally not allowed Thomasin to marry him in the end. However, reading this book profoundly influenced my teenage years.
#1 I learned to braid my hair in 4 strands–Thomasin braids her hair by the calendar. 3 strands for regular days, 4 strands for Sunday, and 7 strands for her wedding day.
#2 I promised myself I would never be so prideful as to refuse to explain my innocence to the man I love–none of this “If you loved me, you would never suspect me; I refuse to answer your accusations” silliness.
#3 I was completely enthralled by the beauty of Eustacia Vye and her power over men. I wanted to be so beautiful that a boy would think holding my hand to be the supreme experience of his life. When I read Return of the Native this time, I remembered my wish and I remembered a time in high school when it was fulfilled–but at the time, I had forgotten my wish and despised the boy as much as Eustacia despised hers–so I got no satisfaction at all from the experience.

Into the Wild
by Jon Krakauer–very interesting, thought provoking, and fun to discuss with the Man of the House. (I never would have read it, if he hadn’t been) Jon Krakauer is arrogant and judgemental and skews his writing so you’ll agree with him, but he is a good writer and a persuasive one. I’ve also read Into Thin Air– his book about the 1996 disaster on Mount Everest. I read 3 books by others who were also there. Krakauer is so smooth and persuasive and so good at quietly turning good people into villains. Lucky for Chris McCandless (the boy whom Into the Wild is about) Krakauer likes him. Greg Morgenstern was not so lucky.

The Story of My Life
by Hellen Keller (reader’s digest condensed)–This is one of those books I’ve always felt that I SHOULD read and just never got around to reading. I felt uplifted and inspired to be better after reading it.


Heaven is for Real by Todd Burpo
–a true story about a little boy’s near death experience. Interesting perspective.

Austenland
by Shannon Hale–I’ve absolutely adored all of Hale’s young adult fiction. This is her first novel for adult women. It was okay. I was in the mood for love and this book satisfied that wish better than some of the others I read in the last 2 weeks. A single 30-something obsessed with Mr Darcy is bequeathed a 3 week vacation to Pembrook Park, a.k.a. Austenland, to dress and live like Jane Austen’s characters. The part I liked least about the book was that the heroine didn’t immerse herself immediately in the experience (as I would have done).

Just like in Eclipse, where Bella totally ruins the scene where Edward proposes to her by being all freaked out and not wanting to get married. How am I supposed to really enjoy that delicious marshmallow fluffy romantic proposal with Bella freaking out and saying no all through it?

But I loved the middle and the end of Austenland and forgave Jayne for being such a worry wart by the time I’d met those last few boyfriends of hers. I’m pretty sure I would have been incessently insecently worried all the time, too.

The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins- a page turner for sure, but I was disappointed in the end. I read a great deal of young adult fiction because it isn’t raunchy like much of “adult” fiction. However, I’ve become tired of the love triangle plots that include 2 amazing boys and a girl who can’t figure out which one she loves. If Kat is going to break Peeta’s heart in book 2 or 3, I wish he would have died in the games instead. (I haven’t read them yet.) The plot reminded me a lot of Uglies and Pretties and Specials by Scott Westerfield, so that was disappointing too. I really dislike girl characters who have feelings but never stop to figure out how they feel. All that time Kat spends hunting food and she doesn’t have time to think about how she feels? I don’t buy it. I dislike that I am more interested in finding out who Kat loves than she, herself, seems to be.

This is the way modern young adult novels get rid of feelings–the characters just refuse to think about them. It is only slightly better than adult fiction, where feelings are completely eliminated. **warning, rant ahead.

My biggest pet peeve about “adult” books is that so often the characters don’t seem to care about themselves. They act, they don’t feel. At least they don’t think about how they feel or act in a way that I can understand how they feel, even when the book is written in first person narrative. Examples: The Stranger by Camus, Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister by …a writer I don’t like..google..Gregory Maguire, The Girl with the Pearl Earring by Tracy Chevalier. hm, funny how those last two are both about painters.

How am I supposed to care about the characters if they don’t care about themselves?
How am I supposed to understand them if they don’t understand themselves?
How can life (or a book) be beautiful if no one in it notices the beauty?

When you take all the feeling out of a story, it seems coarse, raw, and dirty. It’s the modern style, I guess, but I don’t like it.

Scarlet Sails by Alexander Green (translated from Russian by Thomas P Whitney)
Ah, a fairy tale of a novel full of beautiful things and the appreciation of them. The idea that mysterious beauty is attainable and that we can make our own fairy tales come true. I picked this book up in a library book sale years ago and have loved it ever since. And here is the thing. I think Gregory Maguire and Tracy Chevalier would have you believe there is no beauty in the world, only selfishness and lust and regret. Art is the only beauty and real life is a dissappointment. I, on the other hand, along with Alexander Green, believe in beauty seen and unseen.
I’ve wandered through the forest imagining magical things. I’ve walked round a fat cedar tree completely sure that in just a moment I would find the doorway to Narnia. And not finding it didn’t discourage me or diminish my belief at all.


My Sergei: A Love Story by Ekaterina Gordeeva
–Anyone who grew up watching Gordeeva and Grinkov skate will love the story, as I did. One thing I found especially interesting was Ekaterina Gordeeva’s perspective of her life. She says she had an idyllic childhood with no hardship or sadness. Then she describes her father–a dancer with exacting perfectionism, which perfectionism he required of his daughter. She was so afraid of displeasing him and felt that even her Olympic gold was barely satisfying to him–yet she is genuine in saying her childhood was idyllic. You can feel it. Jon Krakauer would have hated this father (in fact he did hate his own father for a long time.) I think most people would have found much to complain about. But Ekaterina knew her father loved her and that was enough. She did not think his requiring her to work hard was abuse, the way many people would. It was interesting to read about the life of someone who grew up behind the Iron Curtain–interesting to read it from someone who was not writing for political reasons. I loved her writing voice. It reminded me of my Grandma Hansen’s personal history–her voice is similar.

The Jane Austen Book Club by Karen Joy Fowler: THE MOVIE WAS BETTER

Jeremiah 31:3

15 Feb

I have loved thee with an everlasting love: therefore with loving kindness have I drawn thee to me.

It’s his cheek wrinkles- the ones like parenthesis around his mouth. Sometimes they are there when he smiles. But usually they only appear when he is feeling deep emotion. Like the day we married. And the day he held his child for the first time.

I’ve heard other women talking about checking out a guy’s backside or his abs or whatever. Whatever.

Give me parenthesis.

Everybody was Kung Fu Fighting

3 Feb

I came upstairs from making dinner to find that Blueberry Pie was watching “The Matrix”–and thus all his little sisters were watching it too.

Super.

Why do we even own that movie?

Oh yeah, because it is kind of totally awesome (if you are over the age of 20)

After the movie was turned off, the kids plunged a round of Neo-inspired kung fu fighting. It was pretty funny.

Until Cutie Pie looked at me and calmly said,

(with no emotion-just like Keanu Reeves)

“Are you serious? That is totally bad-a**.”

I am a terrible mother.

who will be throwing out a few movies tomorrow.

Why my taxes aren’t done yet

3 Feb