O is for Oven

Encyclopedia of Me Meme

 I’m not sure how wide spread Papa Murphy’s Pizza is, but it is our favorite pizza ever. They do take and bake pizzas and they are amazing. I think the thing I like best is that I can yank it out fresh and hot from the oven and just serve it up and eat it right then. No waiting involved – other than cook time that is. 🙂  Our favorite is a Chicago Style Stuffed Pizza – it has a bottom crust then loads of suasage, peperoni, cheese, olives, you name it – yummy stuff, then a top crust, and finally topped off with a thin layer of sauce, a bit of cheese and green onions sprinkle on top.  It is GOOD.

On Tuesday I recieved a phone call from a good friend. She needed to take her teenage son in for stitches in his leg. She had three day care kids in her home and asked if I could bring my crew over to keep an eye on them for half an hour or so until they were picked up.  I knew them and I knew their parents – so the parents were fine with my coming to watch them.  I agreed, but the only problem was dinner. It was nearly five and I had just finished teaching piano and was about to start on dinner. Now I would have no time to do dinner – and Paul and I had our dance class at 7:30.

So we did what everyone pizza loving family would do and ordered a Chicago style pizza.  By the time I was done watching the extra kids Paul had arrived home, picked up the pizza and popped it in the oven to cook.  So when the kids and I all arrived home we were greeted with the delicious smell of baking pizza.

The timer beeped and I took our pizza board and went to slide it under the pizza to lift it from the baking tray – we like to take it off the tray and crisp the crust just a bit before eating it.  My pizza board, however, met with some opposition as I looked with surprise and saw that the bottom crust wasn’t quite cooked.  I was quite surprised and rationalized that Paul must not have let the oven pre-heat all the way.  I cooked the pizza for another five minutes – but the damage was done as it appeared that the bottom was falling out of the pizza. 

We decided to leave it as is – as the top of the pizza was nearly over done, there was no way the bottom wouldn’t be – I must have accidently broken the crust with board and caused it to fall out a bit.  I plopped it on the table as all the kids scrambled around – drooling over this treasured treat.  Honestly, I was drooling too. 🙂  I cut the pizza and began to serve the  first few pieces. As I pulled a pizza out from the whole pizza the bottom crust would string itself out like cheese.

“Paul, look at this – it looks like the bottom is almost raw still!” (We had cooked the pizza for close to 30 minutes now – stuffed pizzas take a bit longer to cook than regular ones)

Paul looked at me rather perplexed and walked over to our oven.  He let his hand hover over the top element which felt blazing hot. Then he let his hand hover over the bottom element – then he touched the bottom element.  There-in lay the problem, the baking element of the oven was out. No wonder we only had a half-baked pizza.

It was now nearly time for me to pick up our sitter and for us to go to our dance class.  We instructed the kids just to eat the top of the pizza and not the bottom crust.  Paul and I took off half starving and mourning over our sad pizza.  At dance we had a brilliant idea.

When we arrived home Paul flipped the remainder of the pizza over and popped it back in the oven.  With the bottom side up the broiler element did it’s job and cooked it nicely.  Now that is what I call a crispy crusted pizza. 🙂

So, now we have a new element, but one of the wires it attaches to looks a bit blackened, so I am still ovenless until Paul has a chance to ask our electrician friend if it is safe or not.  I sure hope so – there is no way we can buy a new oven now.  You never realize how much you use your oven until you have to live without it for a few days. *Sigh*

But now we can really say that we are only half baked in our house.  hee hee 🙂

Ultrasound

Well we had our big ultrasound today and the results were very good.  They didn’t see anything wrong so we were very relieved and of course always excited to see baby.  They checked the heart and other things very thoroughly and listened quite a bit to the heart beat.  All sounded and looked good.  They even gave us four pics! Usually we only get two :). I’m posting my favorite.  Oh, and we were good and didn’t find out the sex of the baby – I know at least half of you are probably groaning in disappointment. 🙂

I am really feeling the little guy (I hate calling a baby it, so we always choose the pro-noun “he” figuring that a girl would be less offended at being called a boy than vice versa. It’s not a hint, as we honestly don’t know) moving around now – Paul can even feel him kicking, especially at night. I believe I am 21 weeks.

So, here is a first picture of Baby Junior #5 who might turn out to be Heidi Jane or James Lamoreaux (A French Name, if pronunciation escapes you – other boy possibilities are Christopher James or Christopher Lamoreaux).

N is for Needlework

Encyclopediea of Me Meme

I have always enjoyed needlework – particularly Cross Stitch.  I never quite caught on to embroidery. My sister Lisa was the first who taught me how to make the little tiny x’s on the fabric and to follow a simple pattern. I dabbled in it some off and on until I was in high school. My mom bought be a few books with Precious Moments designs in them. That is when I caught on cross-stitching fire. The designs were simple and easy to follow. I could complete one relatively quickly. I made little ones for Christmas ornaments and larger ones for family members to hang on the walls. I never kept any myself.

In college I began to tire of simple designs. I had seen cross-stitch pieces that looked like artwork and they had infused my brain. i had no idea just how challenging they were, but boy were they gorgeous. I got my first “real” cross-stitch design in college and began to work on it over many years – mainly because I was studdying, galavanting off to Japan, and serving a mission in Chile. It didn’t leave much time for stitching. I was still working on it when I became engaged to Paul. I decided that I wanted it to be my wedding present to him and started a cross-stitching frenzy. It was less than half finished, but by the time our wedding day approached I had completed my masterpiece. I had enjoyed every moment and it was truly like looking at a piece of art.

I have continued to cross stitch, but at a much slower pace. The following is one of my favorites that I have done since I married. It hangs in our front room as a reminder to us to kneel in family prayer.

M is for Meaning

Encyclopedia of Me Meme

This was my hubby’s idea, to do language for “L” and write in Spanish and then the next day do meaning for “M” and then translate what I wrote.

So, hear is the meaning of the beginning of yesterday’s post, should you need it…

“Ok, I have never written in Spanish. I thought that for this post it would be perfect, the only problem is that nobody is going to understand me.

I loved learning Spanish. The funniest thing is that the only language that I had studied before Spanish was French. The Elders in the MTC (Missionary Training Center) where I learned Spanish always laughed at me because I spoke it with a French accent. 🙂 Ah, good times. I remember the first time I gave a talk in church in Spanish. I was terrified. But at least I didn’t say anything embarrassing.

Before my mission many people gave advice. One of them told me about a time a sister missionary, who was just out on the mission, was asked to give a talk in church. She was very nervous and wanted to say that she was embarrassed. There are a lot of words that are similar, but embarrassed is not one of them. What she thought she said was, “I am embarrassed and it is all the bishop’s fault” but instead of the word for embarrassed “vergüenza” she said “embarazado” which actually in Spanish means pregnant. Hmmm… awkward moment, though extremely hilarious. Definitely not what she meant to say. 🙂

I am very grateful that, while I am sure I made many funny mistakes with the language, I didn’t say something like this.

Good, now for something in English about funny mistakes that people make in language:”

(I won’t bother repeating the English part 🙂 )

L is for Language

Encyclopedia of Me Meme 

Bueno, nunca he escrito en español. Y pensé que por eso post estuviera perfecto. La único problema es que nadie va a entenderme.

Me encantaba aprendiendo español. La cosa mas divertido es que la única idioma que había estudiado antes fue Francés. Los Elderes in la MTC donde aprendí español rieron a mí porque siempre hablaba español con un acento de Francés. Ah, buenos tiempos. Recuerdo el primer tiempo que tuve hablar in la iglesia enfrente de tantas personas. Me dio tanto miedo, pero por lo caso no dicho nada que me dio vergüenza.

Antes mi misión muchas personas me dieron consejo. Uno de ellos me dio un tiempo cuando una hermano fue hablando in la iglesia. Tenia que dar una dicho y fue muy joven en la misión. Ella no sabia la palabra para vergüenza – y pensó que semejante a la palabra en ingles “embarrassed”. Entonces ella dijo, soy muy embarazado y es la falta del obispo. Por su puesto, eso es no lo que entendía, pero fue muy cómico.

Estoy agradecido, que mientras estoy seguro que dije muchas cosas cómicas, nunca dije algo como este.

Bueno, ahora algo en ingles acerca de equivocados en idiomas que es muy divertido

A friend sent this to me before I left on my mission, about stupid mistakes with languages that people make – to make me feel better about the inevitable stupid mistakes that I would make…

Here are som signs and notices written in English that were discovered througout the world.

In a Tokyo hotel:
  Is forbidden to steal hotel towels please. If you are not a person to do such a thing please do not read this notice.

In a Bucharest hotel lobby:
  The lift is being fixed for the next day. During the time we regreat that you will be unbearable.

In a Leipzig elevator:
  Do not ener the lift backwards, and only when lit up.

In a Belgrade hotel elevator:
  To move the cabin, push button for wishing floor. If the cabin should enter more persons, each one should press a number of wishing floor. Driving is then going alphabetically by national order.

In a Paris hotel elevator:
  Please leave your values at the front desk.

In a hotel in Athens:
  Visitors are expected to complain at the office between the hours of 9 and 11 AM daily.

In a Yugoslavian hotel:
 The flattening of underwear with pleasure is the job of the chambermaid.

In a Japanese hotel:
  You are invited to take advantage of the chambermaid.

In the lobby of a Moscow hotel across from a Russion Orthodox monastery:
  You are welcome to visit the cemetery where famous Russian and Soviet composers, artists, and writers are buried daily except Thursday.

In an Austrian hotel catering to skiers:
  Not to perambulate the corridors in the hours of repose in the boots of ascension.

On the menu of a Swiss restaurant:
  Our wines leave you nothing to hope for.

On the menu of a Polish hotel:
  Salad a firm’s own make; limpid red beet soup with cheesy dumplings in the form of a finger; roasted duck let loose; beef rasher beaten up in the country people’s fashion.

Outside a Hong Kong tailor shop:
  Ladies may have a fit upstairs.

In a Bangkok dry cleaners:
  Drop your trousers here for best results.

Outside a Paris dress shop:
  Dresses for street walking.

In a Rhodes tailor shop:
  Order your summers suit. Because is a big rush we will execute customers in strict rotation.

Similarily, from Soviet Weekly:
  There will be a Moscow Exhibition of Arts by 15,000 Soviet Republic painters and sculptors. These were executed over the past two years.

From a brochure of a car rental firm in Tokyo:
  When a passenger of foot heave in sight, tootle the horn. Trumpet him melodiously at first, but if he still obstacles your passage the tootle him with vigor.

Two signs from a Majorcan shop entrance:
  -English well talking
  -Here speeching American

I hate to think of all the mistakes I have made with other people’s languages.  I just hope that as I find humor and not offense in some of the things people say in English, that I was much more humorous rather than offensive.  🙂

K is for Kelp

Encyclopedia of Me Meme

I have very fond memories of a trip my family once took from Pennsylvania to Oregon when I was 7. That was the year I went on my first 10 mile hike.  That was also the year I remember discovering the most amazing beach on the Oregon Coast.  It was south of Coos Bay and it was called Garden Acres.  There were beautiful botanical gardens with a path leading down into a fascinatin cove.  The rocks were in the most fascinating  formations – we called them peanut rocks because some of the had big dents the shape of peanuts on them.  They were big enough for my brothers and I to sit in and curl up in.

We also found great pieces of kelp that we stuck in the back end of our shorts and paraded around like we had tails – my Dad has slides of that one, and we laugh and remenisce whenever we see those slides.

Just before we left for Montana we went to the beach with Paul’s parents.  Laying on the beach we found a huge peice of bull kelp – perfectly intact.  It looked like a giant whip.

“Just what I need to keep you in line,” I teased Paul as I pretended to whip it through the air.

 Paul laughed as I handed it over to him – it was heavy and very long, so I couldn’t get a very good swing on it.  But Paul just whipped that thing through the air,

“Everyone get in line!” he shouted teasing the kids as we all giggled.

A little while later I snuck this shot of Jacob – always eager to do everything that Daddy does.

“Yeah, do what he said!”

J is for Jazz

Encyclopedia of Me Meme

My senior year in high school I signed up to be the pianist in Jazz band.  At school I always played the French horn for everything, and was looking forward to using some of my other talents and to something different as well.  I had talked with our band director and he had agreed that I, and one other person, should be the Jazz pianists.

On my first day of class I entered the band room to find three girls hovered around the piano.  I recognized the one I was to co-play with, and to our amazement the other two girls were there to play piano as well. they just hadn’t asked our band director’s permission.

Mr. E started called the class to order and scanned over everyone assembled and ready to play, “We end up with four pianists and no one to play trombone. How on Earth did that happen?”  He thought for a moment and disappeared into his office. When he came out he had a book and a trombone, though no one really noticed as we were all chatting once he disappeared.

“J-” he called to me.  “Here’s a trombone and here’s a beginner’s book, go teach yourself how to play and then come and join us. You can be our lone trombone player.”

Well, I had wanted something different, but not quite like that.  I did learn to play it passably well however, and by the end of the year I finally accepted all the jazz solos Mr. E kept trying to push on me.  I don’t think I could remember how to play a trombone now, but it sure would be fun to try if we had one. 

I is for Iggy

Encyclopedia of Me Meme

I have always like lizards and snakes and other reptillian creatures. I was blessed with a mom who took zoology and other fascinating courses on her quest to becoming a teacher and had a knowledge and love for all sorts of things.  From as young as I can remember we were always catching frogs, snakes, chipmunks, squirrels, turtles, and anything else catchable.  We usually wouldn’t keep them too long, unless they were meant to be a pet.  We frequently had terraniums housing the latest purchased or caught lizard, snake, frog, or turtle. 

The one lizard that I always wanted was an iguana.  I loved iguanas.  One year my mom surprised me with a very small iguana – I believe I was in highschool.  We had a little terranium for him and I faithfully fed him.  It wasn’t long before my tiny iguana had outgrown is cage and my mom fashioned him a new one.  Then I was off to college and visits home were few and far between, but my parents took on the care of Iggy the Iguana and he grew and grew – and Mom kept building bigger cages.  He wasn’t tame anymore since I wasn’t around to handle him and I had to wear gloves to handle him.   He was strong enough to hurt a bit if he bit ya – and his claws were quite sharp too and he’d dig them into your skin when nervous and frightened.

Luckily Paul liked lizards as much as I did and it was decided that when we were married Iggy would move with us.  We didn’t realize that any kind of change in environment is tough on iguanas. And he died shortly after our move to Utah.  Poor Iggy – he was dearly loved, and I am sure that some day we will have another iguana, when I am not chasing 4+ slippery lizards of my own, heh. 🙂

H is for Hip Hip Hip Hooray!

Encyclopedia of Me Meme 

What am I hooraying about? A few grand accomplishments of my charming children….

Hip…

We have tried to get Elizabeth to learn to ride a bike without training wheels for years now.  She being our timid one, it has been an exceptional challenge.  Each session would end in tears for her and sheer frustration for whichever parent was trying to help her.  She was simply terrified of learning to ride a bike.  Finally we just gave up.  We had her bike out all summer – just in case she decided she wanted to learn to ride it.  She has been happy scootering around and riding her sister’s bike (with training wheels) all summer long.

Until we got home from Montana. Out of the blue she told me that she was trying to ride her bike last week. “That’s wonderful!” I said and left it at that.  I decided that if she wanted help, she’d ask for it. Well, yesterday I was laying down for a rest in the afternoon when I was stampeded by a herd of wild elephants – all right, well it was just Lizard and her two sisters, but that’s about the same. 🙂

“I did it! I did it, Mom! I rode all the way down to the corner and back on my bike!” She had transformed into a Mexican Jumping Bean in her excitement.

“Awesome!” I cried as I stampeded out with the kids to watch her ride her bike.  Sure enough she zipped down the sidewalk and back – gleaming with pride.

Hip…

This morning Dorothy decided, “If Lizard can ride a bike without training wheels, than I can too.” I got out my toolbox and popped those wheels off. Faster than a flash she had that bike down the driveway and was zipping down the sidewalk at a break-neck pace at first try. She just took off – she’s always been our daring one, so it fits that she is the fastest on her bike – and first time without the training wheels too. I stood in stunned silence as I watched her zip up and down the sidewalk. Makes me wish I had taken those wheels of ages ago. 🙂

Hip…

Well, if Elizabeth and Dorothy were going to ride their bikes like big kids, there was no way that Emily was about to be left out – after all she is a super big kindergartner this year. “Please take my wheels off too,” she begged.

“Sure, we’ll give it a try,” I replied and proceeded to dig into my toolbox again and release the training wheels with a thunk. It took her a bit longer than Dot trying to get the coordination and balance down – but by about an hour ago or so she was zipping along the sidewalk along side her sisters – grinning from ear to ear. I know she sure felt great being able to something that her big sister could do – and at a younger age! Go Emily. 🙂 All three girls are hoping to ride their bikes to school this year – *sigh* they grow up so fast.

Hooray!

Jacob’s vocabulary has been literally exploding lately. He is talking SO much. It is adorable to hear him try to sing the songs his sisters sing – like the alphabet song. One of our favorite books, “Hand, Hand, Fingers. Thumb” has pictures of monkeys all through it. He will sit and reading the book, “Monkey, monkey, monkey, monkey.” He will tell us when he is worried with an, “I scare I scare” and repeat most words you ask him too. He will also let me know when his diaper is dirty by bringing me a diaper, wet wipes, and saying “I stinky. Pease.” The potty training is still rolling along – he’s gone stinky a couple times in the toilet, but still usually tells us AFTER rather than before. But any progress is good progress – and he is only 2 1/2 which is still early than any of my others have trained -so I am feeling great. He also dances to all kinds of music and claps along when it is something fun and up beat – He’ll even join in singing from time to time. It is such a joy to see him do so many incredible things when the docs were so worried about his development. He just keeps proving them wrong and beating the odds time and time again. Go Jacob!

G is for Goal! and Goalie

Encyclopedia of Me Meme 

  Or not – we were really hoping to see one though, and there were so many close calls, but no lucky shots.  What am I talking about? Why soccer of course! Once again, Paul recieved free tickets to a Timbers soccer game in Portland. We had enough tickets for the entire family – plus a couple extra, so Paul and I get to go again for a date – woohoo! 🙂  We are not huge sports fans – ie. we would never by tickets for ourselves – just too spendy, but we love to attend when the oportunity presents itself. 

We had a grand time, the kids loved it and even Jacob enjoyed dancing around to all the music and drum banging.  We ate popcorn and squealed, screamed, and booed with the best of them.  The game ended with no goals on either side –  though our team was definitely trying – especially in the last half.  There were so many close shots, but none actually got through.  We got to see lots of players trampled though – and one guy on the other team went so far as hanging onto one of our players feet to keep him from going after the ball  – he got grilled on that though, thankgoodness. 🙂 It got rather ruthless towards the end, and was quite fun.

I have always had a soft spot in my stomach from soccer – oops sorry, I have always had a soft spot for soccer.  I never actually was able to play it on a team, but I sure enjoyed the sport.  I played it all the time as a kid with my brothers.  When it was raining we would take the soccer ball up into the hayloft and kick it around.  My bros would usually dub me the goalie – ie: Ball stopper.  I can’t count the times that they nailed me in the stomach and I laid on the floor trying to catch my breath afterwards – but hey, at least I stopped the ball! 🙂  Obviously, I didn’t mind to much because I kept playing. But now days, if any one mentions – “let’s play soccer!” I simply say, “only if I’m not the goalie” – especialy now – I don’t think junior needs any pre-season training. heh. 🙂