Daily Archives: April 10, 2007

A Bone to Pick and a Carpet to Clean

I’ve got a bone to pick with you Deb.  I have been klutz and accident free for quite a while, until you asked me that question.  Today – a few short hours after I posted the answers to your questions I  executed a feat that would put all other feats to shame. But now I get ahead of myself, let me back up a few hours….

I finished writing my blog and got the kids ready to go out and run some errands, post office, bank, you know the kind. The rain had finally let up and the sun was out and I was feeling particularly cheery.  I was thinking about lunch and dinner and decided not to eat my leftovers for lunch, but save them for dinner so there would be enough for the whole family – and save me time and cooking.  I grabbed a yummy bag of pasta from the frozen aisle.  I usually don’t do this but it was on sale at a ridiculously cheap price and it had shrimp in it – mmmmm.  I figured it would make a decent little lunch.

I got home, fed the children and sent them off to quiet time while I straightened up the kitchen some, put things away, and cooked up my little bag of pasta. It smelled so devine and the shrimp called to me with their scintillating scents, begging to be eaten.  I poured myself a large (really large) glass of juice that I had given the kids (I know, it really should have been water, shame on me) and, resisting the urge to pop one of the shrimp in my mouth right then, dumped it on my plate.  With plate and book in one hand and giant juice filled cup in other hand I began to head into the family room.

I was in the process of trying to decide if I would watch a re-run of Matlock while I ate lunch or if I would work on my writing when I hit the patch of water on the floor.  Unbeknownst to me one of the children had spilled water this morning.  I was suddenly skidding across the remainder of the kitchen floor – the sudden jolt sending juice rushing over the edge of the cup in a wave onto our wood stove as I sailed past on my right foot – fighting for balance, and trying to save my food. 

My left foot hit the carpet leading into the family room and twisted at the sudden jolt of traction.  While my feet stopped suddenly I found that my upper body did not have any such resistance.  I was now launched on my final flight.  Just ahead I saw the plastic fence (our attempt to quarentine Jacob, though it really doesn’t do much good anymore) rappidly rushing up to meet my legs.  I plowed it down like the big bad wolf puffing away the house of straw.  In horror I watched my plate of beloved shrimpy pasta fly free and felt the giant cup of juice beginning to sail through the air.  With a resounding crash and postludial “Oomph!” I landed, skidding across the carpet on my stomach through my food, my arms out stretched before me. I suddenly had an insane urge to scream “SUPERMAN!!!” as I surged across the floor. I had juice dripping down the side of my head and was wearing pretty pasta, sauce and shrimp across my t-shirt.  The juice was kind enough to spray so well as it flipped and flew through the air that I found droplets running down the window all the way across the room, and I might be finding escaped shrimp for the next few days in the oddest places. The only comment I could manage to say to myself as I eyed the damage was, “Well, that hurt, I needed to clean the carpet anyway.”  But I must say, I lamented the loss of my pasta as I scooped it into the garbage – unsalvagable unless you care for pasta a la dog hair. 

So left-overs for lunch, and left-overs for dinner, and a carpet cleaner rental this evening.

And borrowing, and slightly altering a line from a much earlier post, I leave with you my final thoughts on the afore mentioned events of this (not so splendid) afternoon:

 “Oh my! How Juice, Pasta, and Goofy can fly!”

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Filed under Goofs, Humor

Just when you thought you’d heard enough…

some one goes and asks me another 5 questions, and you have to suffer through all the answers here. 😉

Deb sent me these questions a while ago and I’ve been procrastinating, so here we go:

1.  From one accident prone person to another:  What was your most memorable “lack of grace” moment?

Gee, there are just so many to choose from. 😉 My most memorable, huh? (This is the main reason I’ve procrastinated, Deb, I just can’t choose one out of the millions, heh).  I suppose I could tell about the time I accidently nailed one of our church leaders where it counts with a snowball, or then there are the jillions of times I’ve cascaded down stairs, or crashed into doors.  There’s the time I dumped (accidently of course) gingerale all over my best friend’s homecoming dress, or when I body slammed one of those door posts that stands in the middle of a double door.  Oh, and there’s the lawn mower toe and all the times friends have hauled me back off a curb as I’ve stepped off, twisting my ankle and trying to plunge into the oncomeing cars.  But, no, I think I will tell the epilady story.  I may have told this one before, so bear with me if I have. . . .

I was on my mission in Chile, I had been in Chile for nearly 6 months and was getting a very good handle on the language.  We had a number of people we were teaching and seeing regularly.  It was so easy to get to be close friends with the Chilean people quickly, I loved my time there.  When we are on a mission we are always with a companion, mainly for safety reasons, I can sure tell you I wouldn’t want to wander the streets of Chile alone being a young blond American girl (shudder) who speaks spanish only semi well.  At this particular time I had a companion from Bolivia, and she was so sweet.  One particular morning she was shaving her legs with an epilady.  “You, should try it,” she tells me in spanish, “you don’t have to shave for a long time.” 

“Doesn’t it hurt?” I inquired.  She assured me that it didn’t hurt much and me, forgetting momentarily my very sensitive skin gave in and gave it a whirl.  Most of you know that an epilady basically plucks out all the hairs on your legs.  It hurt some, but what was worse was the reaction after wards.  Because of my super sensitive skin I had red dots and splotches all over my legs – it looked like I had some horrid rash.

We had no time to worry about that however because we were off to visit a family that was very close to us.  Now, it was not an easy feat for me to traverse the sidewalks of chile, as often they would be broken and uneven, and just calling to me for some klutzy disaster.

As we approached the family’s house I saw that they were all outside, and I was excited to see them.  I flung my arm in the air to wave a hearty hello and started to shout a hearty “Hola!”  Right at that moment with my arm in the air and the word barely begining to escape from my vocal cords I hit an uneven piece of sidewalk and my ankle gave.  My “hola” turned into an “Holaaaaaaaah!” as I flew forward with such force that my backpack disengaged from my body.  I watched as it soared, almost in slow motion, over my head in a beautiful arc.  It’s flight to freedom ended with a dull thud at the feet of the papa, as the whole family stared at me in open mouthed horror, or most probably bemusement, because I must have looked terribly funny.  So there I was, on my hands and knees gasping for breath, blushing furiously, and staring at my backpack in the distance when I felt the Paps hand on my arm helping my up.  With a worried voice he asked, “Hermana (sister), Hermana, are you ok?”  I mumbled something somewhat incoherent about being fine when he caught a glimpse of one of my freshly epiladied legs (I was wearing a skirt, just past mid calf, so they were plainly visible).  “Hermana! Your leg! What did you do, are you sure you are ok?”  In horror I stared at my companion, trying desperately not to dislove into a puddle of laughter right there on the sidewalk.  I don’t remember what excuse I came up with, but I just know I managed to leave out the epilady, for how do you explain that to a man?  Aye, aye aye! 🙂

2.  You wake up one morning and find a time machine in your back yard, fully operational.  What era would you journey too and why?

Garsh, there are so many to choose from – but having just past Easter, I would love to transport to the time the Christ was on the earth.  It would be something amazing to have been hear and to see and hear the Savior in person, could you imagine?  I would have loved to sit at His feet and be taught by the Son of God.

3.  What’s your favorite song, and what special meaning does it hold for you?

I don’t know that I have a favorite song, or maybe it’s just that I have a lot of favorites.  There is one song that is very very old called “Lullaby Land” that I just love.  you probably wouldn’t ever find a recording of it, but the song has been in our family for years.  I remember my mom playing it on the piano when I was a little girl and she would sing the words to all of us, and to Grandma.  As I got older I learned to play it and mom and I and all the rest of us would gather round the piano and sing that song along with numerous others.  It holds so much memory.  I think that song has to be one of my favorites.

4.  Your favorite genre of writing?

Children’s of course! 🙂  In children’s I like to writing commical fiction about children getting into one scrape after another (sound familiar?), I also like to write fantasy/fairy tale type stories too.  I more recently have really enjoyed poetry, as with kids it is easier to finish a poem which is usually rather short in length, rather than an entire story.

5.    What teacher impacted you the most in your school life?

There are three teachers that impacted me the most.  First was my third grade teacher, Mrs. Trask who taught me that school and learning was indeed fun and that I could accomplish anything I put my mind to.  Second was my 6,7, & 8th grade science teacher, Mr. Blanchard.  He was funny, challenging, and loved his students – and let us eat crickets, how cool is that? 🙂  heh  Last was my band director all through highschool, Mr. Elliot.  You learnd a lot more in music than just music. 🙂

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Filed under Humor, Meme, Memory

Easter

When Paul and I were married we made a decision about Easter that has carried into tradition ever since.  Easter is a special holiday to me and a wonderful celebration of Christ’s resurrection.  We decided that we wanted to seperate the serious spiritual side of Easter from the fun side so we created our own special day that occurs on Saturday – we call it Bunny Day.  The Easter Bunny then comes on Saturday and leaves the goodies for the kids, we hid eggs and have a grand time.  On Sunday we focus on the real meaning of Easter.  We have special lessons and I don’t have to worry about wrestling toys and candy away from kids in order to get ready for church.  We have really enjoyed these traditions.

Here are a couple of “Bunny Day” photos from Saturday: (We were busy enough trying to keep track of the kids during the Easter egg hunt we didn’t take many pictures – I was a little derilict in my camera duty in general this Easter)

Easter basket time

“CHEESE!” – That’s my cheesy boy. There is just something about this picture that puts a grin on my face and makes me all giggly and giddy inside.

"Cheese!"

When Jacob had surgery two years ago on Easter Sunday a new tradition was born of going to the hospital to help with Holiday dinners.  A wonderful lady named Sandi organizes this special service and ever since we first partook of that wonderful meal as we waited for news on Jacob’s surgery we have gone back.  We don’t really do much, most of the time Sandi has volunteers already there to help, but I hope we manage to bring some comfort into the lives of those we visit with.

Here is a pic of all our family with Sandi – for now it is the best photo of the girl’s in their dresses. We were rushed and busy enough Easter day between church and the hospital and such that we didn’t get a really good photo of the kids in their Easter get-up, but I’ll dress them up tonight and take a better photo, so check in later for a better shot. 🙂

Easter Dinner at Hospital

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Filed under Dot, Em, Family, Heart, Jacob, Lizy, Religion