Dishes, Laundry, and Dinner

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.

SLAM!

That's the sound of love coming from my 11 year old right now.

Get the dishes done, or go to bed. That's all I asked. Dishes that I've been asking you to do since 5:00.  Dishes that you should have had done this morning without me asking.  Dishes that are piling up even worse because you won't get them done. Dishes you only have to do two days a week!

No. Stomping and slamming doors is soooo much better than just getting the job done.

Am I asking too much of my kids?  Are they better off just doing nothing around the house and me not having to deal with slamming doors? Sometimes I wonder. Please tell me I'm not the only Mom who deals with this.


Anyway....

Socks. Socks on my hands, that's the trick to doing laundry.  Has been since I was little.  I know, you can start laughing now at the mental picture you just formed in your head.  Me with mismatched socks on my hands bumbling around in the laundry room,  head cocked to one side as I try pathetically to remember which one is the washer and which is the dryer. Disoriented stutters as I try to sort darks and lights.

Well, thankfully it's not that bad. Really. At least not most days :)

I just can't handle the thought of sticking my hands into the laundry hamper and having the germs clobber me as I load the dirty clothes into the washer. Given the smelly treasure we found in the load of little boys pants we washed yesterday, I probably have good reason for that phobia. So, I put clean socks onto my hands as I reach into the hamper and throw the laundry in.Then I throw the socks in too.

Well, the dryer isn't working right now, so despite the rainy weather, we have laundry hanging from baskets, couches, chairs, and whatever else we can find all over the house while we wait for it to dry.  Fun times!

... Not really. There are times when being here alone without my handyman Ryan to fix everything really stinks. Literally. After all, 7 kids create dirty laundry faster than the clean laundry can airdry. That's all I'll say.


And the last thing on my mind right now, but not the least, are my friends. My anxious heart. And my choice of self-medication. Which leads me to dinner.   What???

Yes, Dinner.  (Come on now, keep up with me!)

But, I'll post separately for that. This is too long already. :)

There's No Place Like Home...

I woke up yesterday in a tiny town on the west border of Kansas where the cattle outnumber humans 1000 to 1. I'd been staying with Ry for a couple days while he worked. He drove home to Utah for Thanksgiving, and then I drove back with him to Leoti.  It was wonderful to see him, and talk and laugh with him.  We definitely needed the time together. While I may be used to having him gone for long periods of time, it is an understatement to say that I am certainly not cut out for a long distance relationship.  Alas, all good things usually come to an end, and so after eating breakfast together, I drove home yesterday without him.

Driving long distances doesn't bother me, in fact it I actually like driving alone for long distances as long as the roads are dry.  Give me a great audiobook, a roadmap, a pack of gum, some snacks and I'm good to go.

Vail pass was icy and snowy when Ry and I drove out on Wednesday night so going back, I decided to take Highway 50 across Colorado.  Sayanora Dorothy.  See ya later Toto.  Goodbye Kansas.  I miss you already Ry.

The drive went well and the roads were dry. The long, flat roads out of Kansas pass by peaceful fields of dry, brown sunflowers with drooping heads bereft of their fullness. Tall grain silos and small clusters of farm houses and aging barns along the way gave a feeling of warm, rich life in contrast to the silent, empty fields. I found my self wondering about the people who lived and worked there, what patterns their daily living followed, and the fabric of their family's lives.  I also wished I had my camera with me.

The cool weather turned warm as I sped across southern Colorado where the once straight roads now twisted and curved as they began to wind along the Arkansas River.  As I climbed up Pauncho Pass, snow appeared along the sides of the roads, and ice crackled over the bluish-gray water.  The car followed the curving road up and then back down the San Juan mountain passes, the wind whipped and the sky began to darken with sullen clouds. Sunlight faded, and inky darkness prevailed.

It was cold, dark, and windy when I stopped to refuel in Grand Junction.  I looked forward to crossing into Utah where the silent mountains formations that make up Central Utah would surround me as I traveled across to I-15, and then finally south, and home.

It was refreshing to me to just be alone for a long time. Perhaps I'm a bit odd that way, but driving alone calms me. No expectations. No requests from kids. No dishes or laundry staring me in the face. Just me, my thoughts, and the open road.

I watched the gauge showing the outside temperature climb as I dropped down past New Harmony and into Toquerville, and then into town. It was about midnight when I pulled in the drive, parked the car, and carried in my bags. Mercy was stretched out on my bed snuggled next to Jonnie, and as I put the bags down on my bedroom floor, I noticed a package and a handmade card sitting on my nightstand.

Rachel,

I hope you have a great birthday. 
It has been fun getting to know you and your cute family. 
I have enjoyed your friendship. 

Happy Birthday!

Camille


Inside the box was a beautiful "WillowTree" figurine, a brown haired woman breathing in the aroma of the bundle of flowers in her arms.  Graceful, simple, and perfect.

My eyes misted as I read the card, but when I opened the box, I sat and cried for 20 minutes. How did she even know when my birthday was?

Thank you Camille, more than you know.

And thank you to all of the rest of you who sent me such wonderful birthday texts and messages as I drove.  I had a nice birthday chat with Danielle and Mom, and one with Joe the night before. Plus Amanda sang me a Happy Birthday song on my phone messages, and Mercy, Alex, and Kenzie sang to me as well.

The kiddos must have missed me too, because before the morning light filled the sky, there were four  of my kids in my bed, and I had to get up and move to one of their beds to get any sleep!  They showered me with wonderful homemade cards and notes this morning when I awoke, and later Amanda and my sweet friend Sheila both gave me gifts as well.

Thank you all for being a part of my life, and for touching my heart.

It was definitely a Happy Birthday.

Red Headed Angels

I thought about what to post today, what in my life is interesting enough to share right now? Which workouts we did this morning?  (Pilates for muffin tops and Kickboxing). The stress about how to pay the bills?  (I don't want to think about it much less write about it!)  Job interview yesterday? (Blah!) My cute kids and how adorable they are? (Every post could be about that!!)

But then I remembered, it's August 17th! And it just so happens that today is the birthday of not one - but TWO amazing red heads!!  So, this post is for them.

To my beautiful niece Jerusha on her 17th birthday - you are an amazingly talented artist with such a giving heart.  You look at things with such wonder and see beyond the color the eyes see to the color the heart sees. You find beauty and inspiration in the people around you as well as the world around you, and you have so much to give.  Your personality pops and your smile can't help but make others smile with you.  May the next year bring you happiness and ever closer to our Savior.  Happy Birthday!  (And I don't have ANY pics of you, so next time you come down..... lets go take some :)

Best buds!  Jaden is a miniature version of her mom. 

To my dear friend Tiffanie who I miss so much - Tiff is just one of those people that make you say "I want to be more like her when I grow up!" I prayed that Glen would marry an angel and he did.  Tiff, you have one of the most kind, thoughtful, and caring hearts I know.  Your strength of heart is exceeded only by your beauty and talent. I don't think you know still how much your phone calls and visits and hanging out with me helped me not to go crazy with PPD after Carolina was born. Your support and love have been so helpful over the years. If I had a tenth of the energy, compassion, devotion, consistency, and preparation that you have, I'd be so much better off! You are amazing and hold a special place in both mine and Ryan's hearts. Your kids are beautiful, and funny as well.  I'm glad Tali will always have his special Jaden friend.

I hope this year you will embrace your talent with photography and not only have fun with it but be confident enough to make some money with it because you certainly have the talent and ability for it!  I hope also that I'll be able to come up for a bit and visit, or that you'll be able to come down here. I truly do miss you.  Happy Birthday!

Lots of love to you all...

Rachel

Fresh Basil

Originally posted March 25, 2010

If you’ve never eaten fresh basil and don’t already know the sensuous aromatic flavor those tender green leaves hold - let me be the one to tell you it is delicious. 

My sister Danielle used to say it was “food of the Gods”. And every time I eat it, I think of her - and that she is right.  It is heavenly. Few things can hold up to the simple yet ethereal combination of toasted sourdough bread with a thin layer of cream cheese, fresh basil leaves, and sliced tomatoes - topped with a sprinkle of sea salt and freshly ground peppercorns.   If you have a better cheese than cream cheese -- by all means substitute that instead. 

Sandwiches aside, basil holds so many memories for me. Strange that a green leaf with a decadent aroma can be nearly as comforting as chocolate... but it is. It reminds me of cooking with friends, of eating meals with a huge extended family, of working side by side, and of learning.  And even though there are times when learning is painful, the work was stressful, relationships with extended family and friends are strained... basil brings me to a happy place. 

It also reminds me of going to the opera with Danielle. Walking side by side with my graceful, tall, and beautiful sister. Proud that she would invite me to go with her.  My heart was filled because she chose me as a friend to spend her season ticket with. Though the opera should have been a memory in itself, I don’t even remember the name of the opera we attended. I do remember the opening chorus of mens voices piercing my soul, but it is the stillness of the moment walking up main street by her side that I remember.

And that memory, is part of why basil is so sweet.

BTW... Jonnie Bear is the one in the picture.  It has nothing to do with this blog entry -- but since I’ve skipped for the past year I thought you might like to see what he looks like now.