Christmas Conversations With Cohen

We had the most wonderful Christmas.

It contained, of course, presents, food, candy, candy, candy, family and a lot of driving.

My favorite moment this Christmas Season '09 was Cohen's...we'll say understanding of what Christmas really is.  Our conversation went something like this:

Moi "Do you remember what Christmas is about?"
Cohen "PRESENTS!"
Moi "Um...do you remember why we get and give presents?"
Cohen "Because if we're good then Santa brings them!"
Moi, a little nervous that I'm failing as a good Christian mother, "Um...but why does Santa bring us presents?"
Cohen, in the attitude that he's speaking to an ant who knows nothing (I am the ant) "Because it's Christs birthday and people gave him presents and so we celebrate his birth which means being born."

Few.  Close one. 

Hope you had a few close ones this year.   Here's to trusting our teaching and our children in 2010!

Happy New Year (soon...)

Kelly Out

A Tag For The Nostalgic

Can you think of five?  I had a hard time...good luck =)
Smells of Childhood...
Fried potatoes and Top Ramen with lots of Season Salt
Incense
Smoke (yuck)
Nail polish
Dog

Words from High School...
Biddy Curls (what we called a boy my friend had a crush on)
Ooooooooooh yeaaaaaaaaah.  That was big when I was in HS.
What period?  3rd.  Crap.  Test?  Yes.  Dang it!
FBLA, DECA, Debate, Nerd...

Sounds of College Life...
Lots of late night laughing with my roommate
The click-click-click of the NEW thing called "texting".  Heard of it?
Lip smacking.
Air Hockey at Institute
Late night door knocking

Memories from Yesterday...
Cohen and Kembry whispering in church
Scripture pages turning (I really love that sound)
Lots of laughing with the Neff Family at Sunday Dinner
Brett and Cohen putting together Leggo's.  So cute.
Guitar Hero.  Sigh.  I have a problem.

Future Daydreams...
FINISHED!
FINISHED!
FINISHED!  (all for different things too =)
Two cars again...
A dog!

Still Learning...

(Christmas spoilers!  If you're still a Santa Believer, please don't read =)

I've been a mommy for four Christmas's now, and well, I still just don't have the hang of it.

I had Brett hang up our stockings over the fireplace with care, and then I stuffed them full of presents and goodies.  Brett exclaimed (yes, exclaimed) "Wait!  You're not supposed to do that 'til Christmas Eve!"

Now where did I put that rule book...?

Brett's mom has an amazing talent of making Christmas magical and fun.  They had wonderful traditions, one that I'm going to adopt this year is wrapping the big present from Santa in special wrapping paper, and putting it out after kiddies have gone to bed to dream of sugar plums and what not. 

One year she made ornaments out of candy.  They didn't last long.

But every year, ALL of us get stockings full of candy, toys, gifts, treats, goodies, and everything else you can think of.  The stocking is a Christmas celebration in and of itself!

I love Marilyn.  I'm 25, and I still get excited for Christmas morning!

My ultimate question here, is what do you do?  Do you have any fun traditions, because I need to start some for our funky family.  Do you hang the stockings up, full, before XmasEve?  Is your Christmas tree bare underneath until XmasMorn?  Do you read stories the night before?  Wear fun pajamas the day of?  Go out to a movie or breakfast?  Drive all over the valley and fill up the gas tank twice?

Happy, Merry, Exciting December 21st!

Kelly Out (to do a bit more shopping.  I'm pathetic, I know!)

For Every High There Is A Low..

For every two there is a fro...haha, I love "Sword in the Stone"!

Anyway, planning for my Relief Society Lesson has been a trial in and of itself, let alone all the walls tumbling down around us.  But I stumbled upon one that had my heart pitter-patting.  It is called a "Silent Lesson".

The first words out of Bretts mouth were, "So, you got lazy on this one."

Ahh Brett, you dufus.  No, in fact it's proving to be more work than even a regular lesson would be.  But what I LOVE LOVE about it is that it is meant to bring in the Spirit of Chrismtas.  I.E. The Spirit of Christ.  I.E. Bring your tissue papers, sisters, cause this one's gonna knock yer festive little socks right off!  And I don't have to say a single word the whole time!  YES!!!

Merry December 18th!

Kelly Out

Shelves in the closet; happy thought indeed

Some happy thoughts =)

• My four year old son, Cohen, calls fortune cookies "information cookies".
• While watching a preview of E.T., that same four year old said, "This is called 'Scary  monsters with long necks.'" 
• My daughter put all of her colored band-aids on her fingers, then twirled around singing.  It made my day.
• After reading above mentioned daughters fortune, which said, "Take that chance you've been considering", she squeeled, "Thanks mom!  I will!"  I'm very, very nervous.
• Our car is fixed.
• Our heater is fixed.
• My hand is fixed.
• My childrens idea of a "GREAT TREAT" is Panda Express with spicy chicken, and "Chop stiiiiiiiiicks".  That's my idea of a great treat, too.
• I love eating with chopsticks, even if I'm not really good at it.
• It's December 16th.
• Anthony Hopkinhs narrates "How the Grinch Stole Christmas".  I think that's ironically hilarious.
• IT'S DECEMBER 16TH!
• Murray December 16th!

Kelly Out

Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow

Alternate title: I will find strength in my trials. 

I get my cast off tomorrow!  The heater gets fixed tomorrow (oh precious warmth)!  Our car gets fixed tomorrow!  I like using exclamation marks!!!

Happy Merry Dec 14!

Kelly Out

Perspective

I love that the Lord blessed me with one talent: the ability to learn from other peoples experiences.

Awhile ago, a friend of mine told me a very touching story about perspective.  She said she was feeling stressed and upset with life, etc.  We've all been there right?  The kids were wild, out of control, and as my cousin Abbie would say, "malfunctioning robots".  And even though she didn't give me specifics, I knew exactly how she felt.

Well, on one of these kids-gone-crazy days, those days where you've just about had it! a little cousin came running up the stairs to tell her her son was asleep and wouldn't wake up.

What she said next still gets me teary.  "It all just came into perspective.  All the things I was upset about just didn't matter anymore."  For those few minutes when her son wasn't responding, the good kind of tunnel vision set in.  The vision where you can only see those few things that really matter.  Those things that teach you to not say, "What else could possibly go wrong?" (Hiccoughs, that's what!)

She told me this a few days before I felt the exact same way.  I've felt that way for awhile now, but I get great comfort remembering her few words: "It all just came into perspective." 

I remind myself that even though I've been going through yucky stuff that I really would rather NOT experience, that it could be SO MUCH WORSE.  That I'm not like Job.  That my husband is healthy and has a wonderful job that makes him happy.  That for some reason he loves me, a lot.  That my children make me laugh more than they make me cry.  That they're healthy, happy, smart and very energetic. 

I remember that I know and, to a point, understand the Plan of Salvation.  That of all the things I have to think about and worry about, I don't have to worry about my eternal salvation.  My Savior has done it for me already.  That all I have to do now is the best I can do.

And suddenly I feel like I can take on any mental/physical/emotional ride you can throw at me.  I have the perspective I should have.  For now.

Happy December 9!

Kelly Out

Sad

No Unmoderated Comments Found

We all need that little electronic pat on the back, folks.

Good day, happy day, productive day

Brace yourself single reader...

I cleaned my house today.

Release the held in breath...and breathe.  Good work-out today, folks.

On a side note, I love my children.  My daughter keeps coming up to me, with puppy dog eyes, and saying, "Mommy, I'm so sorry I smashed the eggs in my carpet."

Please note, this was on Thanksgiving morning.  She truly seems remorseful. 

And then she eats my dads box of chocolates...sigh.  Oh well, we're all in the process of learning.

Happy December 4!

Kelly Out

I hate to complain, but...

...when you're watching your 4 year old play Knock-Out, or whatever it's called, and you really feel like you're the guy gettin' the crap kicked out of you...

It's been a rough couple of months.  Aside from mental/emotional issues going on that I won't bore you with for fear the flood-gates would release the tears, I've been on a physical roller-coaster as well.

Swine flu. UTI. Kidney Infection.  Kidney Stone.  Broken Hand.  And last night Bretts car broke down.  (BAH!)

Minus the cast, I thought I was on the UP n UP.  But I spent last night tossing and turning, wondering if the pain in my kidneys was a sure sign they were finally giving up and shutting down.  I mean, how much more can they possibly take?

I can take my own physical ailments pretty well: I've dealt with them my whole life!  But now I have kids and a husband and a house...the pressure is being felt on more than just my kidneys.

At what point is a person allowed to have a mental breakdown?  I vote for now!  Do I have a second?

Hahahaha, I'm reminded of one of my favorite lines in my favorite movie. 

Phillip: I feel like Job!
Catherine: Phillip, really!
Phillip: Okay, then I'm not Job!  But really...!

Which leads me to my favorite scripture, "Thou are not yet as Job..."  I love D&C!

I have a learned a very valuable lesson, and I pass it on to you as motherly wisdom:

The moment you ask yourself, what more could possibly happen, you get the hiccoughs.

Merry December 3!

Kelly Out

For Bethany...

...one of those funny, amazing women who underestimates her worth!

“I don’t want to drive up to the pearly gates in a shiny sports car, wearing beautifully, tailored clothes, my hair expertly coiffed, and with long, perfectly manicured fingernails. I want to drive up in a station wagon that has mud on the wheels from taking kids to scout camp. I want to be there with grass stains on my shoes from mowing Sister Schenk’s lawn. I want to be there with a smudge of peanut butter on my shirt from making sandwiches for a sick neighbor’s children. I want to be there with a little dirt under my fingernails from helping to weed someone’s garden. I want to be there with children’s sticky kisses on my cheeks and the tears of a friend on my shoulder. I want the Lord to know I was really here and that I really lived. “ – Marjorie Hinckley


Thanks Abbie for posting this quote a few months ago.

Oh, and thanks Sister Hinckley for being one of the most amazing women who have ever lived. 

Kelly Out

Some more regurgitation

'55* Greet him with a warm smile and show sincerity in your desire to please him.


'09* If I greet him with a warm smile, he knows something is up!


'55*Listen to him. You may have a dozen important things to tell him, but the moment of his arrival is no the time. Let him talk first-remember, his topics of conversation are more important than yours.

'09*Right. I'll wait until after the gin and tonic to let him know that I attempted to start a warm fire for him, and ended up burning down the garage.


'55*Make the evening his. Never complain if he comes home late or goes out to dinner, or other places of entertainment without you. Instead, try to understand his world of strain and pressure and his very real need to be at home and relax.

'09*First off, he won't even need to worry about me complaining, because if he decides to stay out late, I'm not speaking to him anyway. Secondly, if he needs to be home and relax, then he should COME HOME and RELAX.

Since I can't type, I'll regurgitate

The Good Wife's Guide


'55*Have dinner ready. Plan ahead, even the night before, to have a delicious meal ready, on time for his return. This is a way of letting him know that you have been thinking about him and are concerned about his needs. Most men are hungry when they come home and the prospect of a good meal (especially his favorite dish) is part of the warm welcome needed.

'09*Dinner is left over macaroni and cheese from lunch, which has probably been thrown on the floor by the kids by now. If you want something more, you'll have to cook it yourself, I'm going to the gym.

'55*Prepare yourself. Take 15 minutes to rest so you'll be refreshed when he arrives. Touch up your make-up, put a ribbon in your hair and be fresh-looking. He has just been with a lot of work-weary people.

'09*I've just been with two sticky, screaming, hyper children all day. 15 minutes to rest would be like an oasis in the middle of the salt flats. Not to mention the only bows around here go in the baby's hair, and she's probably thrown them in the toilet by now.

'55*Be a little gay and a little more interesting for him. His boring day may need a lift and one of your duties is to provide it.

'09*Give me a bottle of congac and we'll talk.


'55*Clear away clutter. Make one last trip through the main part of the house just before your husband arrives.

'09*He's lucky to make it through the door at the end of the day. If the kids are on bored, then maybe there wont be a giant train track built right in front of the front door when he comes home.  As for the "main part of the house"...yeah, our house is small enough that its ALL the main part of the house.

A new entry on the list of things that break my bones

I hit my hand on the piano.  I had a fight with the piano.  I didn't drop the piano on my hand.  How did I break a bone in my hand, if I didn't drop the piano on it?  Was I angry and punch the piano?  Impossible, I would have broken a bone near my knuckles if that was the case.  But alas, the bone I broke is closer to my wrist.  Well then how, you ask? 

Warning people: this story is very anti-climactic. 
I wouldn't blame you if you didn't bother to read on. 

But you've already read this far, why not find out so that we can all sleep at night.  Have I mentioned that I haven't been sleeping?  That's a great story, however unrelated with the current subject, and will not be discussed in this post.  We arrived home after an otherwise usual evening.  I'm sure that Cohen yelled up ahead to Brett and I on the porch about how he needs to open the door as if this somehow defines his level of independence which is the most important thing in his life right now.  He's very independent.  Cohen walks in the door, and I follow him.  The room is black and the light switch doesn't work because it is connected to a ceiling fan which does, in fact have a light attached, but the light is turned off and controlled by a ceiling fan control which is very convenient because you can control the light and the ceiling fan from the confort of the couch.  Said remote control is missing batteries, and is nowhere to be found.  Sucked into the Neff household vortex.  Those of you who are Neffs will know what I mean. 

In the dark living room where there are no nearby light switches I enter and pass the piano, and somehow swing my hand (with Super Hero Force) into the arm of the piano which I now know is very sharp, and can be used to break hand bones.  It is now on the list with the toilet, my own inside of my knee, and etcetera, etcetera. 

I know you were hoping for more, but since my hand is broken, Brett has to write this post, and you are stuck with what he wrote.  This is not my fault.  Anyways, you may want to take a hietas if you are addicted to this website for around four to six weeks while I regain function of one of my typing hands.  This means you Tanya, since you're the only one who reads it...

Brett (on behalf of Kelly) Out

P.S.  Here is the whole, unabridged list of things that have broken my bones - in chronological order:
A rollerskate (my wrist)
The collapsing space between a foot and a butt (every single bone in my foot - I know, right? I don't even know how it's possible, and I was there)
An ice skating rink (see a pattern yet? - my collar bone)
A curb (my ankle)
A toilet (my foot again)
A piano (my hand)

Kelly VS The Piano

Piano: 1
Kelly: 1 fractured hand

Needless to say I won't be blogging for awhile. 

Talk at you all soon I hope!

Kelly OUT!

P.S. Anyone interested in a traitorous piano?

10 Year Anniversary

In a few weeks, I will have been a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints for ten years.

What is it with making the double digits that causes nastalgia?

I dunno, but I do know I'm just as excited about this as I was to actually turn 10!  Remember the big ONE-OH?  Oh man, it was epic.

Sometimes I'm very talkative about becoming a member of the Church.  Sometimes I'm all about talking about the difficulties of conversion, loss of friends, side-ways glances from family members...you know, the usual stuff when you do anything different.

Other times, I'm really quiet about it, and would rather no one know.  Sometimes I'm a little embarassed I don't know more than I do.  It's at times like these I have to remind myself that my husband has been a member for 21 years - twice as long and then some - and that the one thing I love most about the Church is the opportunity for eternal progression.

So, happy anniversary to me.  It's been the greatest ten years of my short life.  I'm so grateful for Elder Nemmeth and Elder Loarca, and for the Staten Family, who were wonderful examples of member missionaries.

I lost a few friends, and it was sad.  My family didn't understand, and that was hard.  I felt alone a lot, but that's what trials are all about.  In the end (well, I guess the beginning), I found an amazing husband, was married in the Salt Lake Temple, and currently serve happily, if not well, as a Relief Society teacher. 

I could write all night about the reasons I became a member, about how the Gospel answered many of my questions, but in the end it was the strong feelings I felt when I saw a picture of a boy kneeling in a grove.  I didn't know who the boy was, but I started crying.  Elder Nemmeth asked me kindly, "Do you know why you're crying?"  I could only shake my head.  "That's the Spirit testifying to you that Joseph was a prophet of God."  I didn't even know the boys' name was Joseph, but I knew what Elder Nemmeth said was true.  There was no doubt in my heart, and hasn't been since, about that truth. 

Thanks for reading,

Kelly Out

What is wrong with me?!

Glutton: a person with a remarkably great desire or capacity for something. (scary movies)
Punishment: severe handling or treatment. (scary movies)

I. Am. A. Glutton. For. Punishment.

Wednesday I went to a very scary movie, and walked out swearing up and down, left and right, on every head that came out of me, on heads I had married, on heads that are buried six feet under, that I would never, EVER, EVER, go to another scary movie again.

Tonight, I went to a scary movie.

Someone put me out of my misery.

Kelly Out 

I don't wanna get outta bed, Ma

Most days I try real hard to do something fun and interesting with my little wards.  Like taking a trip around the world in a hot air balloon, dancing with Prince Eric himself, and teaching them to fly or transform...you know, the usual educational stuff.

But on days that I'm functioning with little-to-no-sleep, like today, I have a hard time thinking past "couch".

And so today, I'm so grateful for my little wards, feeling in simpatico with their mama.  Bless their lazy little hearts.

On an entirely seperate note...would you look at this hair?  This boy has a vice on my heart.  Woa betide the poor woman who takes away my baby.

Kelly Out

And off to bed

Not really, I have to be awake and make sure Kembry doesn't stab herself...again. 

My North is off

Four years ago I did away with the alarm clock.  I had a new baby, afterall, and I had accepted at conception that my time would now revolve and center completely around him.

Nothing has changed.

And so this morning, without my literal biological alarm clock going off, I don't know what to do with myself.  My two children are still sleeping, and I am wide awake (I should hope so, it's 9 AM) and I...I...don't know what to do with myself.

Several options have popped into my head.  Should I eat breakfast?  Without them?  That's just weird.  I could watch the news...turns out I'm sort of partial to "Sid the Science Kid".  I could clean something...nah.  Should I check on them?  Are they still breathing?  Don't they hear the birds chirping, the cats meowing (with quite a hint of a whine in it), don't they hear their dad in the kitchen making a terrible racket? 

I love being a mom.  Every once in awhile I get these strange, backwards glimpses of life before gestation, and it's unsettling.  Like I missed that first step on the stairs. 

So wake up already!  Sheesh.  You're freaking me out!

Kelly Out

Over the hump yet?

The beginning of October, I had a 100+ fever for eight days.  As fun as that sounds, it really, really wasn't.

Last week, Kembry sliced her finger open.  A day and a half later, she tore off her bandage.  A day later, she tore off her SECOND bandage. 

Sigh.

Gruff.

Cohen has been practicing for months for his Primary Program.  I have been gathering tissues for month, preparing for MY first Primary Program.  The night before the program, Cohen threw up all over his comforter, then his sheets, then his CLEAN sheets, then his SECOND PAIR OF CLEAN SHEETS (please keep in mind, Brett washed them all in the middle of the night, being prepared.  He's amazing!)

The next morning, I asked him if he wanted to try to make it to the program.  He said, "I don't feel good," then threw up again. 

Sigh.

Sniff.

But I think...I think...I think it's all over now.  I feel okay.  Brett's not sick.  Knives are tucked away from Kembry, she's no longer bleeding, and Cohen is back to his wild, non-vomiting self. 

I can't complain.  I'm thinking a lot about a cousin whose in the hospital, about the selfless act that put her there, and about the positive attitude she has.  There are such worse things than sliced fingers, vomit-covered blankets and sheets, and missing first primary programs.  Though I can't say there are many things worse than the swine flu. 

Kelly Out

P-Dub in High Def

Now, my daughter nearly slicing off one of her digits is big news.  In fact, you should scroll down and read all about her painful love affair with knives and feel bad for me (or for her and the apparent lack of parental supervision).  So we'll get back to this glowing little angel of death in a moment.

BUT!  But, I am 197 ways excited about my amazing night tonight.  Chip-N-Dales were booked, so I scurried on down to my favorite Pioneer Woman's book signing.  Seeing as how she provides step-by-step directions for 4 out of the 6 meals in our household, I thought I'd like to meet her.

And guess what?  I did!

I met her, and Missy!  Pesky Tim's wife! 

But you know what was even cooler than all this (how cool, Kelly?  Ice cold.)

I got to see some old friends, and meet some new friends, and talk all around with people who love food as much as me (but do a much better job of concealing it!)

I met Suzie, just about the sweetest girl.  I saw Jen W., the sister of one of my bestest friends in the good ol' days!  I saw old HS friends, and stood in line for a good 4 hours, and it was ALL worth it.

When I came home, everyone was asleep, there were 50 or so DVD's on the floor, two empty boxes of diapers (last years Christmas gift to the kids) and 347 toys scattered here and there.  I think Brett secretly hates me.  Shh..he doesn't know I know. 

And for those of you who still haven't hopped on the Pioneer Woman Band Wagon, despite all my chittering and chattering, GET ON THE FREAKING WAGON.  You'll never look back.

Kelly...off to bed

P.S. Jen:  I missed you tonight.  I hope you're feeling better.  I've got your book, signed and all.  I hope you love it as much as I do!!

P.P.S.  My best friends baby had surgery today =(  I feel incredibly insensitive posting about my amazing night, knowing she couldn't be with me, because her baby needed her (I needed her too, but I guess he's more important.  Whatever.)  Tanya, I missed you!

My daughter and a knife: a tragic love story

My inbox is breathing a little deeper this evening.  I've emptied it of more than four months worth of content.  It helped that I finally wised up and cancelled all "Facebook Updates".  What a curse!

New Years Resolution: check e-mail box once a day, not once a month.

Now on to the bulk of the post, "My daughter and a knife, a tragic love story"

Kembry, 3, is (was) madly obsessed with knives.  I was thinking machete for Christmas, but now perhaps that's not such a good idea, as she has promised me, her dad, our doctor, all of her grandparents, and random people at McDonalds, that she will never, EVER play with knives again.

The girl has been humbled.  Her love relinquished.  No George Wickam for my little Georgiana. 

Around 7 a.m. Kembry got it into her little stubborn mind that she wanted, nay, needed some candy.  So, being the resourceful little scamp that she is, she grabbed her trusty slicer (a very sharp kitchen knife) and proceeded to take on the candy wrapper.  I'd say the wrapper won.

She sliced the tip of her left index finger.  Brett, having trained me to remain calm in any and all bloody circumstances, rinsed her finger, and bandaged her up.  A few minutes later, mommy enters, and has to re-bandage.  She's already bled through.  Well, it's 8 a.m. now, and we're dancing around taking her to the doctors or just letting it heal.  Calm as I was, I went with the doctors.

And a good thing too.  He pulled the band-aid off, pulled her finger, and out came not only blood, but fatty tissue.  Kembry went pale and limp, and I nearly wisked her away to the emergency room, demanding morphine for her, and possibly a drip for me as well.

Our doctor, being trained in such matters, left to gather the stitching tools and material, when he had a second thought.  So, instead of poking her right into her fresh, fatty tissue wound, and injecting her with stinging, pain-numbing medicine, he butterfly wrapped two of her fingers together, and sent me on my way.

Now I have a 3 year old, terrified of knives (thank heavens) who is supposed to keep two of her left fingers bandaged for 10 days.

Pray for me.
Pray for me now.
This will call for a miracle of epic proportions.

Kelly Out

When Mom's not home...

Everyone on the Potty Train! Choo Choo!

The Neff Parents are proud, and overly joyed, to announce that their wild thing is officially on the Potty Train!  Choo Choo!

I'm so proud of her.  There's a lot in the old-lady-at-Walmart-in-the-diaper-section saying: "Just wait until their ready.  They practically train themselves."

Amen creepy-slipper-lady.  Amen.

At least her robe was tied shut.

And good job Kembry.  Really.  I mean, we're already spoiled enough that she is so...how the Brett says, "Enchanting."  (Seriously, he said that.  Cute huh?)  But she really did just train herself.  She was ready.  She knew what to do.  And she DID IT!  And is still DOING IT! 

All the mothers out there can feel my joy literally seeping out of the computer as they read this.  It feels a bit like an electrical shock, but the good kind.  There's a good kind?

Kelly Out (of diapers!  yes!)

Planned Obsolesence: The Fight Continues

So here's an update with my ongoing battle to fight "stuff".

IT'S HARD!

Update finished.

Just kidding.  But really, this has been a very, VERY, difficult fight for me.  I had no idea how much I loved and worshiped STUFF.  Especially now with the Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas Holiday's coming into play.  I love decorations, candy, little bowls for candy, little decorative plates for the bowls that hold the candy...the list goes on.

And goards.  Is that how you spell that?  Sure, why not.  What is it with goards that makes me want to just...buy 'em all up and put them on my table, so that I'll just have to take them off everyday for dinner, and then find storage place for them at the end of the year...really, they're a pain.  BUT I WANT FIFTY.  Any therapists out there looking for a lost cause?  Ya found one!

And Christmas ornaments.  What's the deal with wanting four million different, shiny, pretty, sparkly ornaments?  I must have them!  Alas, though, I will not give in so easily to STUFF.

I've even been struggling with grocery shopping.  Do I really need this item?  What if we don't end up eating it in time (yogurt, milk, cheese, etc) and then I just have to throw it away?  What a waste!  This battle with STUFF has really made me step back and consciously watch what I'm doing.

All in all, I've saved a butt-load of money and storage space.  Not to mention helped my posterity (hopefully).

Oh, and a really NEAT update: our recycling bin has reached it's limits every week.  Our garbage can for the last three weeks has had...hold it...wait for it....ONE BAG of garbage.  I had no idea how much you can actually recycle. 

I'm really greatful I stumbled onto that video.  Thanks to Kaci, Brad Call's wife, whose really funny and keeps a fun blog.  I hope it's changed me for good.

Kelly Out

Friendship

"Friendship needs no studied phrases

Polished face, nor whining whiles

Friendship deals no lavish praises

Friendship dons no surface smiles

Friendship follows natures diction

Shuns the bandishments of art

Boldly serves truth from fiction

Speaks the language of the heart

Friendship favors no condition

Scorns a narrow-minded creed

Lovingly fulfills its mission

Be it word, or be it deed

Friendship cheers the faint and weary

Makes the timid spirid brave

Warns the eary, lights the dreary

Smooths the passage to the grave

Friendship, pure, unselfish friendship

All through lifes allotted span

Nurtures, strengthens, widens, lengthens

Mans relationship with man."

I don't know who wrote this, but I've had it memorized since I was twelve.  I know I've found a good friend when peices of this poem come to mind as I just sit and visit with them.  So, thanks friend, for sitting and listening to my grumpy grumblings when I know you have so much more on your plate without me.  Thank you.

Kelly Out

P.S.  I also love the one that goes, "A good friend will stop you when you're about to go off on someone.  A best friend will walk beside you, giggling 'Someone's gonna get it!'"

But why?

Here's the thing: "Do as I say, not as I do" isn't gonna cut it with the Neff brood.  "But why?" will be on my sons eternal records, under the heading "Ways in which I tortured my mother".  Also on that list, I'm forseeing, girls.  But let's not cross any questionable bridges until we're forced at gun point. 

"But why?" is a question that will, without a doubt, follow me to my grave. 

The first place I go whenever I'm struggling internally with external signs of insanity due to motherhood: prayer. 

First step: beg for mercy.  Please, please make him stop.  I don't know.  I DON'T KNOW THE ANSWER, Lord.  I just don't know.

Second place I go whenever I'm struggling internally with external signs of insanity due to motherhood: prayer. 

I take it back!  I take it back, please stop testing me now!

Finally, I go limp.  Acceptance sets in.  Reality clicks.  I let the Spirit take over, and all seems to fall into place.  I begin to realize that when my son asks, "Why is the sun by the moon today?" that he doesn't want to know about the orbit of the earth, that we're on a tilted axis, and that his mother has NO IDEA what any of this means.  And I gratefully realize that I only have to give him the simple answer: "It changes every night."

Judges?  YES!  The answer is accepted, and a new string of questions is presented.  The kid needs to go into the CIA and torture.  I mean, if the CIA did that kinda stuff.  Which of course they DON'T!  Right...

And the Spirit reminds me, daily, hourly, minute by minute, every second, that he learns just like me.  Just like the rest of us.  Line upon line, precept upon precept.

Kelly Out

A Strange Decision

I've always kept a written journal. 

The year I worked in the Family History Department at the Church Office Building, I really felt  an awe and a love for written experience.   I got to handle century old journal pages, histories, birth records, death records, etc., and it was a wonderful experience.  I really felt connected to the hands that carved those letters. 

But I hate writing.

My hand cramps, I go too slow for my own thoughts, I mispell and have to cross out, it gets sloppy.  Sometimes I cry and it smears the page.  Sometimes I completely skip words, and it's not like I can backspace or insert the word I missed.  And I'm pretty sure the people who read it will wonder if it was a 7 year old writing, my handwriting is that bad.

But all of this I think is what will possibly make it that much more special for my posterity to read. 

Then again I've really enjoyed keeping an electronic journal.  Like, REALLY liked it.  I don't have time, or the urge, to do both anymore. 

I'm torn.  What do you do?  Do you hand write, type, or both?  Or none of the above.  Do you beam thoughts into the sky where a gigantic database stores all your experiences.  That would be cool. 

Anywho, I really appreciate the suggestions. 

Kelly Torn
I mean Out

The Goose is getting fat. Yum.

Since Christmas is only like...what...70ish some odd days away, I'm beginning my ritual of excitment.  I don't care who judges me (Breeeeetttt).  So today I'm settling down on the couch with a heating pad and four of my favorite Christmas movies.  Starting with "Santa Clause: THE Movie", oldie but goldie, followed by "Scrooged" (Bill Murray was old THEN, is he still alive NOW?) then "The Family Man" and to finish off a wonderful Get-Set-Christmas-Here-I-Come marathon, "Mixed Nuts".  Possibly the greatest, most hilarious Christmas movie made to date. 

And then in about 60-ish some odd days, I'll start the Christmas shopping =)

Kelly Out

My first

Thanks to a wonderful woman, who fittingly is nicknamed "Shine", I got to go to the General Relief Society Conference at the conference hall downtown.  It was amazing.  For the first time I ever I got to be in the same room with a Prophet of God.  More specifically, President Monson.  I got to sing at the top of my lungs with four billion other beautiful women.  I got to meet new friends.  And when I left, I had this as a first view of the outside world.  It was tough.  And we get to do it all over again this Saturday afternoon!!  I love conference weekend!!  Woot Woot!

Currently Receiving Transmission

I just finished "Contact" by Carl Sagan. 

Contact is an extremely interesting, and challenging book.  I know it's fiction.  Still, it's hard to read a theological argument between the main character, Ellie, a scientist and "agnostic" (as she says) and a televangelist. 

It's hard to hear because I know there are so many who are thinking and believing (or not believing) all those things Ellie is struggling with.  Modern day revelation.  Hypocracies among the religions.  She keeps asking, "Where has your God been?  Why would he prophecy to Prophets of old, but to none today?  Where has he gone?  Why has he gone?"  I want to shout to a fictional character, "He does.  He's here.  For good.  To stay.  Hallelujah!"  I could start my own television show.

But it's SO MUCH HARDER to read the televangelists views, and know that there are BILLIONS who are following these beliefs.  "God talks to me all the time.  God has told me that a revelation is at hand.  When the end of the world is nigh, the Rapture will be upon us, the judgment of sinners, the ascension to heaven of the elect..."

Well Reverend Rankin, revelation is not at hand.  IT IS HERE!  Hallelujah!  *Smack!*

Where was I?  Ah, yes, maintaining the Spirit through patience with fictional characters.

D&C 5:20
"Behold, I tell you these things, even as I aslo told the people of the destruction of Jerusalem; and my word shall be verified at this time as it hath hiterto been verified."

Dan. 2: 44

44 "And in the days of these kings shall the God of heaven set up a kingdom, which shall never be destroyed: and the kingdom shall not be left to other people, but it shall break in pieces and consume all these kingdoms, and it shall stand forever."

And my favorite, D&C 13

"Upon you my fellow sevants, in the name of Messiah I conver the Priesthood of Aaron, which holds the keys of the ministering of angels, and of the gospel of repentance, and of baptism by immersion for the remission of sins; and this shall never be taken again from the earth, until the sons of Levi do offer again an offering unto the Lord in righteousness."
 
For me it is the wonderful reminder of the blessing of modern-day Prophets.  But more importantly, the fact that there will always be a Prophet of God on earth, and that he will never be taken away.  That this is the last dispensation.  And that I get to be a part of that.  How sad would I be if I didn't have the Gospel?  Would I even know what I was missing?  Would I recognize the Spirit again, as I did almost 11 years ago testifying of the truthfullness of the Gospel?  How different would I be without the Gospel?  Without the Spirit?  Would I be like Ellie, unbelieving, skeptic?  Or worse, like Rankin, "Join Jesus or be DAMNED!" 

Yikes! 

Kelly Out

Planned Obsolescence Part III

"Family moments cost less at WalMart."

Yeah, you just have to buy them over and over again.

Kelly Out

Oh dear

This girl.  Oh dear.  Brett and I have a LONG 15 or so years ahead of us. 

Is it Tuesday YET!?

When I didn't go to the Temple for like a year (gasp!) it really didn't feel like that long.

Then we (the hubby and I) decided we needed to get going on our duty.  And now going even a week feels like a long time.  The urge to go is always strongest on Sunday, when of course I have to wait until Tuesday.  I think maybe that's why Tuesdays are always so busy in the Lords House: everyones feelin' the push.  So I started trying to go on Saturdays, give myself a little Temple boost before the two day sabatical I was facing. 

But when I don't go, I feel it keenly.  The pull is stronger than gravity.  It is physical, spiritual, mental, emotional.  I need it.  I crave it fortnightly (name that movie).  I can't wait for Tuesday! 

"I would advise all the Saints to go to with their might and gather together all their living relatives to [the temple], that they may be sealed and saved, that they may be prepared against the day that the destroying angel goes forth; and if the whole Church should go to with all their might to save their dead, seal their posterity, and gather their living friends, and spend none of their time in behalf of the world, they would hardly get through before night would come, when no man can work." -Joseph Smith

I gave a lesson yesterday that included this qoute.  Basically, what I hear at the end of this is that even if we spent every waking minute focusing on getting to the Temple, getting our family and friends there, and doing the work, WE WOULD HARDLY GET THROUGH BEFORE NIGHT WOULD COME.  I have a T.V., I can honestly say I spend more of my time in behalf of the world, than in behalf of the Lord and his amazing work. 

"The greatest responsibility in this world that God has laid upon us is to seek after our dead." -Joseph Smith

Seek after them, redeem them, and redeem ourselves.  Why, oh why, must the Temple be closed on Mondays? 

In one of this months Visiting Teaching messages, Barbara Thompson says: "We need women to be 'anxiously engaged in a good cause.'"  I can say I am anxiously engaged in Temple work.  I am anxious to get to the Temple, to get names to the Temple. 

Well, back to the world for me.  Kitchen needs cleaning (or a can of gas and a match), the bathroom is dripping with some slimey green goo, and I'm pretty sure the smell wafting up from the basement is a dead rat (thanks Kitty!).  So, Tuesday can not come soon enough!

Kelly Out

Salute to Sunday

I've been hunting and searching for some way to describe this weird, powerful feeling I've been feeling lately.  I found it today in D&C 136:27

"Thou shalt be diligent in preserving what thou hast, that thou mayest be a wise steward; for it is the free gift of the Lord thy God, and thou art his steward."

I suddenly want so much to be better.  I want to recycle, to stop buying stuff that doesn't last, to fight back planned obsolesence.  I want to be a better steward over this beautiful world the Lord made for us.

Moses 1:31-32
"For mine own purpose have I made these things.  Here is wisdom and it remaineth in me.
And by the word of my power have I created them..."

And what more reason do you need to help make the world a better place than for these little people:

I love the Gospel.

Kelly Out

P.S. My friend Lacie does a salute to Sunday.  Her's are always better.  Thanks Lacie for your great example and inspiring words. 

Planned Obsolesence: Part II

See this chair leg?  It was once broken.  I glued it back together.  I'm pretty awesome.

So imagine my surprise, my utter amazement, to see this:

BAH!  Broken again.  But no, my glue job was amazing.  This is the twin brother, Mario.

The exact same leg broke on Mario.

Now, I bought this table and chair set two years ago for $20.  Pretty cheap right?  Exactly. And the old me would've thrown this one away and happily, merrily, trotted my way to the store and bought another.

 But I refuse, refuse (verb), to make this set refuse (noun). Hyuck hyuck.

It's not about the money.  It's about the fact that they made this chair to break.  They purposely created a horse. 

A broken leg=garbage. 

Planned obsolesence is the devil.  Brett and I are fighting back with carpenters glue. 

Kelly Out

Always Learning

I'm watching my eldest monkey this morning. He's just learned how to blow up a baloon.

It's a beautiful reminder for me. I actually remember learning how to tie my shoes. I was four. It was so hard, and so frustrating, but so flipping rewarding.

And then I realize: I am only 25. I've learned much, tis true, but there is so much I don't know. How will I learn? Will someone sit with me, teaching me patiently, calmly, all the important things I need to know?

Yes. I am so grateful for that. Grateful for the scriptures, for weekly church, for weekly opportunities to start fresh. Grateful for teachers. Grateful for the Priesthood. Grateful for the Lord, sitting beside me, teaching me.

Thanks Cohen. You're a real eye opener for me.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have a wonderful lesson about patience, pre-prepared and everything. It includes spilled milk and cereal.

Kelly Out

Planned Obsolecence

This morning I got a good reminder of "planned obsolecence".  Why, oh why, can't we just change the batteries?  Why do we have to throw away these toothbrushes and replace them with completely new ones?  What a waste. 

Marvel at my photography skills.  Bask in the glow.  Or the flash, which ever.

Kelly Out

Breeding-Mania

Holy crow in a hand basket, there's some major baby mojo goin' on right now.  I have 12 friends who have recently announced.  Sheesh.  Not including two cousins (one with twins).  Not including me, because I'm not pregnant.

But WOW!

Kelly Out

Hurry Up!

I just ate an entire medium thin crust pepperoni and pineapple pizza by myself.  Brett better hurry home before I become and official blimp instead of one on the cusp.

"I'm doing great!  I have no stress.  Coping mechanisms?  I don't even know what those are!" she says, as she takes another enormous bite of pizza.  "Please pass the coke."

Super Excited

For two reasons:

P-Dub made a cook book.  I'm beyond thrilled.  I'm gyrating with excitment.

Second:

She's actually doing a book tour.  I don't ask questions.  I only know I'll be showing up.

Kelly Out

A Few Good Things

I'm not sure what's wrong with me.  Scientists are investigating as we speak.  They  have a pint of my blood, four thousand hairs (with follicles), toe nail clippings and a shirt I wore in the third grade.  Scientists are weird.

Anyway, when Brett leaves me for large amounts of time, like say...two weeks, I sort of turn off the "I have a husband" and take on the more sombre "I once had a husband" attitude.

I like to pretend that for the time being I'm husbandless. The children are fatherless.  I cannot rely on anyone but me.  It's the only way I can cope with him being gone =)  It's been workin' okay.

I also try really hard not to think about "it".  About him being two billion miles away, about me being alone for days on end with two short people who follow me around with growling tummies calling me some weird name.  "Maaaammmy". 

But there are a few nice things about being a single mom for two weeks.

One: I get to say my personal prayers out loud.  I mean, I could when Brett is home, but I don't.  I don't know why, I just don't.

Two: I get to put my book on his pillow.  This, for some reason, gives me great pleasure.  Probably because I'm lazy and I don't have to lean over and put it on the side table.

Three: I get to have a saucy affair with this good-looking Pharmaceutical man out in Chicago.  We chat on the web-cam some nights, other nights just over the phone.  His name is Brett.  I think I'm in love.

All in all, I miss him terribly, but it's not so bad.  I hear other women complaining to the hilts about how tough it is to have their husbands gone, blah blah blah.  Like I said, I don't know what's wrong with me, but it's not that tough.

Also, I think I'll lay it on thick when he gets home.  With things like, "YOU WERE GONE FOR TWO WEEKS.  YOU WASH THE DISHES.  YOU CHASE THE KIDS.  YOU WEAR LIPSTICK!"  That sort of stuff.  I'll make it seem like it was a lot harder than it really was.  You understand.  I'm a woman.  It's my perogative.

Kelly Out

Hi.  I haven't posted lately because I don't do real well...thinking...with no sleepy.  I no thinky well.

Brett's been gone for two days.  But he was also gone ALL LAST WEEK as well.  He's in Chicago.  He went to a Cubs game.  He's having a real tough time.  Poor guy.

But I've been doing such fun things!  I will now commence sharing time.

I participated in a torture session called (for legal reasons, I'm sure) "Trigger Point Therapy".  It was actually very helpful with my back.  She was actually able to rub out six different knots, and I only cried most of the time.  So doing that again! (They really do need a sarcastic font.)

We had a really good Enrichment tonight, for which I only participated in for half and hour.  But what I did get to see and hear was really inspiring.  It was all about choosing the better part.  A ward member and I did a small skit of a modern day "Mary and Martha".  I love my Ward.

I have a friend that gave me some quality service today.  She visited with me while I washed dishes.  I can't tell you what a difference it made.  It was like I wasn't washing dishes at all. 

Last night I didn't fall asleep until 2 AM.  I have become OCD about checking ALL the windows and ALL the doors, and checking out the blinds about every fifteen minutes.  Every noise I hear is a serial killer/rapist coming to attack my children, while I sleep blissfully unawares like.  I miss Brett.

Finding a spider in your bed is the absolute most terrifying thing in the world.  Barr none.

Well, thank you for participating in my drivel.  I promise more exciting posts in the future.  When I've had sleep.  I.E. when Brett comes home and snuggles with me.  I'll go no further, this is a family blog.

Kelly Out

P.S.  Tanya pointed out that in my last post I did not mention the recycling bin I bought at IKEA.  This is true.  I did buy a recycling bin.  But, BUT, it was with a purpose.  And I had been planning on buying it for months, I just don't make it out to the middle of nowhere that often.  It wasn't STUFF, so stop judging me!  Tanya.  Just kiddin'.  I love ya!

I can resist anything but temptations.  HAHAHAHA!  Oh, you're welcome to not read the rest of this post.

Today I had my real test to avoid stuff.  It was hard, my friend, it was hard.

Yesterday was a freebie.  Sunday.  I totally made it through.

Today, I decided to test myself.  Why?  I know not.  Never the less. 

I think it's important to test yourself in a controlled environment.

My controlled environment of choice: IKEA.

Judge me not yet, reader.  You will be proud to know, I BEHAVED.  Can I get a WOOT WOOT!

There was a moment, I felt my resolve weaken, and for what you may ask?  What could bring down the incredible stuff avoiding machine? 

Dish rags.

You heard me.

Dish rags.

But then I reminded myself that I have 14,637 dish rags at home.  And even though the ones I own are old and ugly, most of them hand-me-downs from the now deceased, I reminded myself that more dish rags is more stuff, and more stuff means more laundry, and less money to eventually send me to Paris.

Proud of me?  It's only day three.  We'll see how tomorrow goes; and it's only 12-something.  Don't put all your stuff in one basket, or I might accidentally steal it.

Kelly Out

Neff Union on Strike

Generally I don't like taking "stands".

I've never been one to shout out about "organic foods" and "Wal Mart is the devil!"

You would never see this bumper sticker on my mini-van:
In fact, on occasion, I would enjoy buying things from Wal Mart for those people, and then not telling them where it was from...What can I say? Natural man is an enemy to God.

But I think I'm finally starting to come around. I'm finally starting to understand the importance of "taking a stand."

I've always thought that one person couldn't make a difference. That's because I AM LAZY. I don't want to have to make a difference.

Now that I have munchkins of my own, I'm starting to realize that my choices really do effect them, directly. Their future, especially. My grandchildren's future. My posterity.

If anything, I want them to know that I did not sit by and watch as their world was destroyed. Worse yet, that I participated.

So, I too am going on strike. Not just from "Big Mart" stores, but to stuff in general.  And I'm forcing Brett to as well.  Lucky man.  Where would he be without me? 

Those of you who know me know what a tough strike this will be for me. Tanya, am I right? Target anyone?

And to make it a bit more interesting, and to help me stay focused, I'm putting a bit of a time-limit on it. After all, a habit is formed...well, eventually.

For one month I'm not going to buy stuff. My wallet is cinched (somewhere in the world, Brett just smiled and felt a moment of relief). Feed the kids at home. Encourage them to play with toys we already have. No popcorn, gulp, at the movies. Like I said, this is going to be hard for me. No new clothes. No new shoes. Wear it 'til you bare it. Well, no one wants to see that...

I'll keep you posted on how it goes. You may be getting phone calls from a sobbing shopaholic going through withdrawals. Please don't turn her away.

Kelly Out

Love at first sight

Okay, please still watch this awesome video about Stuff, but in the meantime I need to do the "I told you so" dance to Brett.

I do not believe in soul mates, but I do believe in love at first sight. Because, I experienced it when I saw Brett. (Just ask my college roommate. I couldn't stop giggling. Entirely out of my personality. And of course, if it wasn't for Devin calling Brett on my phone the next day, I may have been too nervous to ever talk to him again. WAY out of character!)

Now scientist are getting closer to proving it. HA! In yo face husband. I'm right. Oh yeah. I loved you the second I saw you. Sucka! Wait...

Anyway, read this fun little ditty of an article.

Kelly Out

I like.

There's no handbook for this stuff

I've heard many a mother comment, "There's no handbook for this stuff." Very, very, true. But I'm learning that while there's no general handbook for raising children, you can make unique handbooks for your own.

For example, after eating a cupcake (before dinner) my daughter said, "Mommy, my belly hurts."

I said the typical, generic, "responsible mother" response.

"It's because you ate a cupcake before dinner," (which is true in my case, but I don't have a gallbladder, so I don't count.)

But this didn't help. She only scowled. So I tried this approach:

"Are you hungry?"

She swiped at me and glowered (I love two year olds).

Then I knew. I knew because I've made a little note in my "Kembry Handbook". I knew like you know a good melon.

So I took her in my arms and hugged her and said, "I'm sorry honey."

"I love you mommy."

With Cohen, it would've gone like this:

"My tummy hurts."

"Here, eat."

"Okay."

I love boys.

Kelly Out

2 Year Old Stench

We've discussed some pretty disturbing things together, reader, but nothing as disturbing as my daughters diaper.

There are times a stench unlike any you've ever encountered is wafting towards us from her tiny bum. Brett and I have full on battles debating who will have to change it. Offers like "I'll wash the dishes for the next forty years," and "You can go to Paris if you'll do it," often are tossed about.

When finally I break down (Paris people, come on), I plan for the worst. I get out fifty wipes in preparation. I have the fire hose going off in the front yard just in case. I plan on finding Brittney from the third grade, hunting her down and going to her house, to Albania, if I have to, and leave this giant stench bomb in her garbage. That's pay back. That's karma. To sum up, this girls' stench is epic.

I'm planning all of this, and with a twinge in my gut I unwrap the poor diaper that's had to endure my daughters stench, only to find...is that it? A pebble? A PEBBLE! How, how on earth could this tiny pebble of waste amount to such horror? Oh the horror.

Brett and I have dubbed these little anomalies "Nuclear Diapers". Because even the smallest of atoms, in the right (or wrong) conditions can amount to such terror as this little pebble. Disgusting.

Come back tomorrow and I'll regale you with stories of my son screaming at me from the bathroom to come and view his giant feces. I love being a mom.

Kelly Out

Surprise Visits

I love surprise visits. Especially if I'm fully dressed!

Last night we had a fun surprise visit which temporarily suspended the rodents bed time. You can't go to bed when your best friends show up! Duh! I'm not even that mean of a mom.

Plus Brett got to practice polygamy again for a minute while Cody left, leaving Brett with his wife and three children. Brett wasn't as enthusiastic as I thought he would be, though I enjoyed the prospect of having Tanya with me all the time.

Somewhere in the world Tanya just felt a cold shudder down her spine. Something horrible was just said...

Ahh, friends. Ain't nothin' like 'em in the whole wide world!

So peaceful. The entire neighborhood is quiet (or is that my earplugs?)

The kids are asleep, and I've managed to bathe all the dirt off of me from this mornings torturing, agonizing, harrowing yard work. No hyperbole people. None at all.

I've doodled and diddled some writing, not the greatest, but something. A bit everyday. Like working a muscle. Ouch, please don't talk about muscles. I can feel every single one, and that can't be right...

I've visited some family bloggeroo's and ached for childhood. I miss my cousins I never see, cousins I hardly even know anymore. Bless Brett's family for always staying close.

And now I'm watching "Deal or No Deal," tsk-tsking the greedy contestants. "Give me a penny, I want a penny." Can't you just be happy with a dollar, or a hundred even. Why always the penny? There are like 15 other good cases people. I wish they would say, "Anything but the half-million." That at least won't make the person feel too horrible about opening up a $500.

Future goal: coach stupid contestants on polite game-show etiquette.

People who don't watch this show have just switched to a different blog. I'm about to myself.

Kelly Out (not outside. Never again. Ouch.)

P.S. I bought a Mimosa Tree. I like the sound of that...Mimosa. Mimosa. Oh, the tree's nice too!

28 going on 70

How Brett ever lowered himself to marry me, when he had all these beautiful women around him, is beyond me.

But I try not to question someone else's bad decisions when they benefit me so much. President Obama anyone?

(Boy, I hope my father-in-law doesn't read this. He'd disown me.)

This last weekend was Brett's 10 YEAR HS reunion.

Many spouses of the reunion-attendees weren't super excited to be there. Like Jay here. But I was!!

Bad picture. Anyway, the SBO's did an awesome job planning. It was held at Noah's, and they had Rock Band, Ping Pong, and Casino Night. Jay and I got pretty crazy on the Craps Table.

Here is Brett rockin' out with his friend Anna (Onnuh). They're blury, you see, because they were rocking so hard their very aura's were vibrating with the sounds. Or because I can't take pictures. Probably the latter.

Speaking of Anna, she is one lucky ducky. Here I am, gambling my soul away to win a gift basket, and she puts in three tickets and wins TWO TIMES. Just goes to show, gambling gets you nothing. While not gambling gets you a gift basket from Blue Botique.

The absolute best part of the night was when Jo looked in the "special" basket and saw the "shrinking cream". She asked, innocently as can be, "Why would you want to shrink 'it'."
I could only casually reply, while surpressing my laughter, "It's for her."
"Oh!!!"
I love Jo.
I love Anna.
It was an awesome night. I wonder if I had more fun than Brett after all...

Kelly Out

I BELIEVE! Aka, for Natasha

Sometime in February I went insane and decided to remodel my kitchen. By myself. With no prior knowledge what-so-ever.

And keep in mind as you read, that I am no photographer or professional home decorator, like PW or Liz. So forgive...well, everything you're about to see.

After about a month, Brett got pretty excited too. Of course, most of the work was done at this point. So I thought.

I don't have before pictures, because, frankly, I don't ever want to see that old kitchen again. Ever. I will drown it in gasoline and burn it alive, if I must.

This is what we had left over. Beautiful red mahogany cabinets, with a gorgeous, colorful back splash provided by Scott's Tiling.

And of course, a delicious loaf of bread provided by my wonderful RL President, Sister Warner. My kids didn't know bread could be warm!

And I didn't know that one day I would love my kitchen. Warm bread and pretty kitchens used to be a myth to me. I am a believer. Hallelujah.

And yes, I appreciate the IRONY that I have three ovens and that my children have never tasted home baked bread. Ironecles, you feisty devil you.

Kelly Out