Back to Blogging Basics

Oh, how I miss blogging.  I miss reading the blogs of friends who have quit blogging, and I miss daily reading the blogs of those who still do , and I miss posting more than once a month.  It's like a whole social network that seems to have fizzled out for me (and a lot of others).

There seems to be less to say.  I have fewer things that I feel like documenting.  I have the same, old feeling that nobody wants to read it, and if I don't really want to write it all that much, it's doubly pointless.  And, usually, I don't really want to write it all that much.  But I miss posting.  There was something therapeutic about typing out words that came from my brain.  But that all just seemed to fizzle out, somehow.

Remember the days of memes?  Everybody did them, one or two at least, until some people got bored of reading them (not me!) and other people got bored of writing them and they just sort of fizzled out?

And what about blog awards?  Not the real, many-people-have-to-vote-for-you awards that are still around,  but the ones that didn't actually mean anything very BIG?  Except they felt like something BIG because they meant someone read your blog and cared, and they made you love blogging and your fellow bloggers?  And even though, like the memes, they were a little childish, you still quite loved them?  And then they just sort of fizzled out?

Well, for a long time I have wanted to really sort of get back into a blogging mode (yes, really, sort of) and then, providentially, I received a blog award.  Did you read that!?!  A blog award!!!  It has been years!  But last week, Amy at How to be Superwoman awarded me the Liebster award!  And, even though it's a many-people-did-NOT-have-to-vote-for-me award, it still feels BIG.  And it brought back some of my old blogging feelings.  Thank you, Amy!

So with that introduction, I am going to pass along this award.  It's meant to go to blogs with under 200 followers.  I quite love that many of the blogs that I have read almost from their beginngings have grown to the point that they don't qualify for the award, based on this one criteria.  You guys are awesome!  And you're not getting this award!  :)  But here are the blogs that do!



The Craig Report  Funniest male blogger.  Father of seven, bishop, weirdo.
What do Worms Smell Like  Great photography and lovely thoughts to go with it.  Laura served her mission in Poland and then went home and married a friend of my family!  :)
Dreams of Quill and Ink  L.t. creates things using nothing but ordinary words.  Very, very beautiful things.  (plus she's about the nicest person ever).
The Days and Nights of Robierto  For the life of me I can't remember how I found his blog, but he's hilarious.  Case in point: go read his Blind Dates post.  Go!
because I really can't get enough of myself  Melissa is one of those very funny people with millions of challenges in life and the ability to make us laugh about them while also being a stay at home mother with a hundred creative online projects going.  I quite adore her.  And her blog.

This was just the motivation I needed.  I think.  To get me back to blogging, I mean.  Hope to see you all around more often!

Healthy(er) Eaters

One of the things our family has changed this year is the amount of sugar we consume.  We've eliminated store-bought juice and other sweet drinks and we only have sweetened cereal one morning a week (Saturday, so I can sleep in), instead of almost every day as we did before.  This is because we continue to eat baked goods and occasionally a bit of candy and I want that to be our only(ish) sugar source.

Greg says our breakfasts should always contain fruit or vegetables so we've started having

• carrot-fruit juice (fresh squeezed) or fresh orange juice
• fruit smoothies
• vegetable salads (think raw broccoli, tomatoes, radishes, pickles, pepper, onion, hard boiled eggs, cheese blitzed in a food processor mixed with a little mayo) Sounds gross, tastes...healthy.
• fresh fruit salad mixed with yogurt
• Grapefruit or pineapple or other good fruit everyone likes

along with our toast or eggs or oatmeal etc.

It's great.  I feel much better in the mornings now.  And it's kind of nice to actually make something for breakfast instead of defaulting to cereal, and for it to be something that will contribute to my kids' health (unlike syrupy pancakes, muffins, scones etc., which I'm only "allowed" to make on Wednesdays, to be eaten along with a vegetable/fruit side.)  

And one of the greatest bonuses of our new breakfast plan?  

Juice and smoothie mustaches.

***
Oil story: Last week Aaron was carrying a small folding chair and tripped, folding the chair and smashing his  hand in the frame. He wailed and screamed while I opened the chair up to remove it, smashing it worse in the process.  I ran and stuck his fingers under cold water and went to get the frozen peas.  He continued wailing and screaming through the whole process and after a minute I tossed the peas aside and grabbed my lavender oil and gently rubbed a drop on his fingers.  He stopped crying immediately.  I applied it again a little while later.  He had no bruising or swelling and no further pain.  I use lavender whenever I stub my toe badly or a child drops a magnet from upstairs and it lands on my foot (ouch!) or I hit my shin etc. (I'm a spazz) and it gives instant pain relief and I, an easy bruiser, never get bruises anymore.  LOVE lavender oil.

Now THAT'S Hot

My standard of living just quadrupled.

No, we didn't get a major raise, buy a private jet or get a Target in Mielec.  What we did was got a new stove and oven.

Our old glass-ceramic range was mostly likely a prototype from the early nineties.  Or eighties.  If I wanted to boil water for pasta I would turn the burner on, go for a jog, come home, shower, apply my makeup and fix my hair and possibly trim my nails, at which point it had warmed up enough that it was time to pull out a pan and fill it with water.  It sort of freaked us out yesterday when we turned on a burner on the new range and felt like we were standing next to a bonfire within 2 seconds.  There will be a significant decrease in the need to plan the timing for the cooking of food around here.

Our old oven was from about the same era as the cooktop.  It was incapable of baking things evenly and refused to cook much from the bottom.  It did sort-of-okay with things like cookies and scones but ruined cakes and pizza and everything else.

This meant that for most baking I had to descend to the downstairs kitchen and use the (also ancient) stove down there.  It was only moderately better than the one upstairs and required climbing over the recycling to get to.  And once the upstairs oven broke, even cookies had to be baked down there.  Inconvenient.  Very. Especially for someone like me who bakes a lot and rarely uses a timer (baking seems so much less creative when you just pull the pan out at the ringing of a buzzer.)  At least I worked off all the cookies before I even ate them going up and down to check their progress.

But now?  Now, I can watch cookies bake from the comfort of my kitchen table if I so desire.  I have 10 heating options to choose from.  Our quite ugly kitchen looks about 6 times nicer. And the very BEST part is that the house will finally start smelling like whatever's for dinner.  Or dessert.  It was such a waste to have all the delicious food smells (and extra heat!) stuck down in the basement.  Winter will now be significantly cozier.

So, while I'm glad to have a back-up oven in case of an emergency, I'm even gladder for the downstairs oven to keep company below with other appliances we've never used.  You know, like the dishwasher.  And the built-in, commercial-grade deli meat/cheese slicer.

It kind of makes me wonder if appliances are like toys (according to Toy Story).  Will the downstairs oven pine for the days when it was of some use?  Will it taunt the other appliances with "at least she used to use me!"  Or will it comfort the poor dishwasher who cries over his rusted pipes, having never been appreciated.  Will it hate me for the things I've said about its friend the deli slicer?  The one that pops up out of a cupboard and scared our pants off the first time we saw it.  And which we have tried to forget about ever since?  But didn't because we had to make jokes about the fact that we have such a thing lurking in a cupboard of our home?  These are the question one (me) begins to ask when one (I) get a new oven.

We christened the oven with Annie's Chicken Pot Pie last night and chocolate chip muffins this morning.  I'm delighted.  When you spend a quarter of your life (or so) making food, a new stove and oven can definitely quadruple your standard of living.

Transported

I could have been my grandmother.  Or even my great-grandmother.  I could have been walking home from trading fresh milk for fresh eggs at a friend's house on a winter's evening a hundred years ago.

It was cold.  I was walking fast and the breeze froze my nose and stung the tips of my ears.  I was anxious to get home, to be surrounded by warm air, cozy lighting and happy, glowing faces.  Outside it was bitter cold, so I walked on quickly.

I could hear dogs barking here and there throughout the neighborhood.  I knew they would bark again as I passed their homes.  I always try to be ready, to keep myself from jumping, startled by the unexpected outburst from the other side of a fence.

A scent wafts past me.  It overwhelms me.  I breathe it in more deeply, further freezing my nose.  It smells like home and family and holidays.  It is warmth and comfort and safety.  It is the smell of wood and coal burning furnaces coming from the houses I walk past.

Two boys are having a snowball fight.  They are running and laughing with rosy cheeks and steaming breath.

The snow crunches under my feet.  It sparkles beneath me, around me.  Surrounded by ice, the smell from the homes fills me with warmth.

When I reach my own home I realize I have been ignoring the cars parked in driveways and the satellite dishes on the sides of the houses.  It was just me, just now.  2012, not 1912.  Just keeping a resolution, not trading a basket of dairy products. But I loved being transported.

Just Write: My Life is Just Right

We're all in the living room.  Frank Sinatra is playing.  When Greg first turned it on I wasn't sure if it was Harry Connick or Frank.  I checked and it's Frank.  He sounds like Christmas to me.

Some yummy smelling oil is diffusing.  Greg is sitting on an exercise ball rocking back and forth to the music with both Aaron and Spencer on his lap.  I don't know how he's doing that, but I'll bet it's good exercise.

Evie is making Christmas presents for her cousins.  I will take them to California when I go in two weeks for Thanksgiving.  David is drawing -- cars, of course -- with glitter glue paint.

Everyone is talking in low voices and it feels like Family.  It feels like Home.

I'm getting up now to make something warm and yummy and good to balance out the too-much-sweets-from-our-Halloween-party last night.  But I promised Aaron I'd play one game of Candyland with him first.

I love my life.

I wrote about this moment to join in with Heather's Just Write free writing exercise.  You can join in or read Just Write posts from other bloggers by following that link.

The Biology of Motherhood and a Question of Opinion

The girls in one of my English discussion classes (two 16 year olds) are pretty much everything I hope my Evie will be. They're responsible, thoughtful, hard-working and fun. But they hate biology. I tell them that this is a tragedy. Biology is awesome and interesting, I tell them. I also tell them a lot of other things. Anything I want. This week I will tell them about EFY in Germany and that they're totally invited.

But biology really is awesome. Although I know where my students are coming from. In 10th grade I hated it, too. My teacher sat at the overhead projector and wrote notes for us to copy all class period, every class period. Extremely boring. But then I moved on to AP Bio. With Mr. Margve. Oh, Mr. Margve was the best. He looked like he was wearing one of those fake nose and mustache thingies, only without the glasses. (as a matter of fact, my AP US History teacher was his good friend/rival, and they always played jokes on each other like Mr. M would send a dissected rat as a gift to Mr. T in the middle of class and Mr. T dressed for Halloween with a nose and mustache--glasses removed--and wearing a nametag that said "Mr. Margve".)

He had a passion for biology. He drew pictures on the board and used jokes and grand arm gestures. He made the floor of the lab into gigantic cells with paper parts so we could learn about transcription and other cellular functions by physically making it happen ourselves. I loved it all and remember much of it. I don't believe I have ever used terms like knee cap, shoulder blade, collar bone, or thigh bone, thanks to Mr. Margve. (patella, scapula, clavicle and femur for me, thanks!)

I think that is why I am so deeply in love with this song. I have an affection for biology anyway (up to the most basic college level. :) and it's a true geek song, sung by a true geek. I don't claim to be a geek AT ALL, but one who can appreciate geekiness, when properly expressed.

(as a side note, I think of the term "geek" and in smaller measure "nerd" to mean one who is overly excited about and interested in science or technology or other brainy things (with or without the social ineptness. For this reason I have never quite gotten it when people call themselves Harry Potter geeks, or worse, Twilight geeks. I am still trying to convince myself that the term can also apply to anyone who is knowledgeable about or interested in most anything, and that it doesn't necessarily have to be intellectual. (I always remind myself of how Annette tells us that language evolves and sometimes people use a term improperly enough that it becomes an actual definition, and that maybe that's the case here.)

This song is delightful (to me), the perfect balance of tackiness, catchiness, humor and just all around geekiness. I have it running through my head pretty constantly since Melancholy Smile linked to it the other day. You should really watch it, just in case it brings you as much joy as it brings me. You will learn exactly why slightly more than half of everything your children are is thanks to you. A Biologist's Mother's Day Song:



And now, a question of opinion.

I have never wanted to advertise on my blog. I have only ever wanted my blog to contain things that I personally want and choose to have on it. But now I have a dilemma.

A friend of mine (or two) has written regular, Melissa-esque blog posts that sounds exactly like her and are things that I know she would write about. They're just normal blog posts. Then at the end you read that the post was sponsored. And you think, what? Wasn't that Melissa? Yes. That was definitely Melissa. I enjoyed the post exactly as I would have without the sponsorship note at the end.

So this is a new and awesome way to monetize your blog and I'm thinking that I might want to try it. But I don't want it to feel like I'm not being real or something. But I figure, if a song about biology can inspire a post (however lame) about my AP Bio teacher, why not just let an advertisement inspire a post? For example, Melissa had one sponsored by a clothing company and she wrote about how terrible her own wardrobe is. I could write a post about my wardrobe (couldn't any woman?) and it would be just as real and natural as writing any other post that was triggered by something I saw or heard.

At least I think. But I'm just wondering, not to ask your permission, but I'm just curious as to how you feel about that? Have you read posts sponsored by Broadcast Bloggers ads? Does it feel weird to you? Wrong? Do you care?

Because I've never cared if people I like have their sidebars plastered with ads (I've seen some people complain that they don't like it), but this new way to monetize, while being slightly more in your face, is also a good way to get ideas for blog posts (I think, I still don't know exactly how it works) and still write from your own brain and heart, but also make some money (which some people are rather in need of, from what I understand...)

Anway, do you have thoughts? I mean, on the subject of this type of monetizing?

Sincerely, Lisa

:)

For Life

"Doesn't this muesli look so good?" I said, holding up the unopened box and pointing to the little window that revealed the freeze-dried berries and granola inside. While Evie and David agreed that it looked delicious I made fake-but-sincere sobbing sounds.

"It's cereal, mom." Ev said, with the sound of eye rolling in her voice.

Yeah. She should talk. Just a few mornings before she told me about a horrible dream she had. She volunteered to go back to the Millar's house to get something. She said it felt so weird being in that now-empty place. She walked slowly around and stopped in front of the picture of Ellyvan, drawn in marker on the living room wall by 4 year old Max. She almost cried in the telling of this dream.

Yesterday Aaron kept including Max in his listing of our family members using toys, "This one's Evie, this one's Dad, this is Spencer, this one can be Max and this one is David."

The Millars, our American friends have moved back to that country. The muesli was from a box of goodies they brought us from their kitchen as they packed up their home (there were also boxes of toys and Christmas decorations!).

We got to celebrate one last holiday with them the day before they left. We had an Easter egg hunt in a nearby beech tree forest. It was fun and warm and almost all the foliage was on the ground-- the dried brown leaves of yesteryear. Those and lots and LOTS of dry sticks and branches making what I'd imagined would be a beautiful stroll through a green springtime wonderland more of a crunching hike through a monotone (brown) obstacle course, but it was still fun.



In fact, anything we did with the Millars was fun. Holidays, FHE, having church at our house, yummy dinners and treats. Fun! But I never cared as much about what we did as the fact we got to spend time with them.

Because those guys are awesome. They share their history so openly and it wasn't always about major athletic achievements and (practically)perfect families. Those have been some of the blessings that have come to them because of their awesomeness. They have been through a LOT and, instead of taking the easy road and using their crises as an excuse to take whatever road THEY want, they've let their trials shape them into really good people who try to do what the Lord wants them to.

This includes being where he wants them to be and I know that they were supposed to come to Poland, in part to be a blessing for our family. I'm so grateful they came. I'm so grateful for their sweet, super sweet little boys. Baby Oliver of the squishy cheeks and beautiful blue eyes and friendly Max and his desire to help and knack for always saying the right and cutest things. Once he asked the blessing on our food and after he said "amen" he looked up and saw that Spencer was starting to climb up the stairs so he quickly closed his eyes and folded his arms again and asked for Spencer to be safe while he's playing on the stairs. Seriously sweet boy.

Ryan sets such a good example wherever he goes. When his volleyball games are on Polish TV the commentators (announcers?) refer to him as Ryan Millar and/or the "sympatyczny Amerykanin", the nice/friendly/likable American. He smiled more in one game than any other player probably in all the games combined. He's funny and kind and looks for ways to share the important things he believes. Awesome.

Then there's Suzanne. What can a person say about THAT lady? She is such a loving and encouraging mother and a sympathetic and helpful friend. She always has something she's read recently that she draws on for strength for herself or shares to strengthen others. I love it. I want to be like that. She's seriously beautiful, but not at all intimidating because she is just so real and open and friendly. Love her. Such an example of a woman of faith.

I'm grateful for the Millars and that they came and provided an extremely welcome break from feeling isolated and so far away from people who understand me. And I love that, even after having only had them as "neighbors" for about a half a year, they are now lifelong friends. That is something you don't get every day, and better than gold.

Add This to Your List

I can tell you right now that if I had made a list fifteen years ago of the things I wanted to do before I got married -- I mean, if I had sat down and really thought it through -- it would have looked like this:

1. Make sure he's the right one.

Possibly with another short list of qualities that "the right one" might have.

But I never made that list. Because I was pretty sure I'd know him when I found him. And I did.

But not everyone's list would be as boring as mine. Not that mine would have been bad, just lacking in... adventure. Ambition. Interest. (and actual, un-obvious things to do before getting married)

A friend of mine, Ashley Barrett, had a list of her own. A paper on which she wrote 25 things that she absolutely had to do before she settled down to get married. And how much overlap do you think there was between her list and mine? Exactly none.

No, Ashley spent every day after she made her list (at age 18) specifically trying to not complete the task on my (past tense hypothetical) list. And besides, she had her own 25 things to work on. And though some of them were relatively simple things like "read a Russian classic" and "sing karaoke", there were others like, "get a sports car", "learn a language" and ""get a master's degree". And there's also the fact that for Ashley, "sing karaoke" was a harder one to complete than another one, to "climb a mountain".

Watching Ashley climb mountain after figurative mountain as she worked her way through her list was a joy. Besides that she's just a funny, confident and beautiful person, she also happens to be a smarty and a tiny bit of a spaz. Yes, she's fun to keep tabs on.

But I'm pretty sure she never could have guessed how it would all turn out with that list of hers. After 6 good years of slowly but resolutely chipping away at it, she came to the Summer From Hell.

Her hellish summer included months by the beach, an extremely hot surf coach-turned-love interest, plenty of activities, hanging out and Jamba Juice, a fun waitressing job, and an excellent new online friend.

Now how could that be hell, you might ask? That was the summer that her list started to get a little wrinkled. A bit scruffy around the edges. Not just from overuse (though it was certainly being used), but in a figurative sense, too.

Although she was completing more things from her list in those short months than in many years combined before that summer, the list was still in jeopardy. She lost her original, handwritten copy but typed it up again from memory. Still, she struggled not to lose sight of the goal of the list: to have no regrets when she got married. Nothing to look back on with resentment because she didn't do it when she had the chance.

Life seemed to be getting better and better as hanging onto those last few items on her list became harder and harder. Still, this is Ashley. She has a very strong grip.

Very strong.

I really wish you could all meet Ashley!! She is seriously awesome. Of course I've never met her either, but I still consider her a friend.

I know! Why don't you go get your to-do list and add one more item. I promise this one will be far less painful than "cut the kids' hair" or "scrub the grout in the shower". As a matter of fact, it might even be more fun than "go out on an awesome date with husband*" (don't tell him I said that) or "Eat a piece of Adam's peanut butter cup fudge ripple cheesecake". Write in "get this book:

"

Because it is FUN. Fun, fun, fun. Funny, sunny, with one Hot Honey. Oh my gosh, I just wrote that. And I'm leaving it. The book is clever, charming, and seriously delightful (unlike my rhyme above). And don't you want to know what happens with Ashley? It didn't all play out exactly how I expected (a good thing!) but/and it is a completely satisfying read. I love. I recommend. As strongly as Ashley holds onto 6-year-old resolutions. Or possibly stronger (see how I don't give anything away? I said possibly).

I've already told you what I think of Melanie J the blogger (hmmm, we could use the same adjectives that I used up there for the book! No, not the bad rhyme again, the clevercharmingdelighful thing), but you really need to get a feel for how stuffy and hoity-toity Melanie Jacobson the author is. Check out her author website. Seriously. Stu-ffy. And then click on the book to buy! If you're like me (and you know you are) you will be reading this one over and over to recapture the humor and FUN of it. (I'm sorry to keep going on about the fun, but the book is seriously ef-yoo-en.)

* I had a hard time wanting to sit down to a movie with Greg on Valentine's Day because I was in the middle of The List and really just wanted to read! Or better yet watch it on a screen with my honey. Maybe some day...

Miss Delacourt FINALLY Has Her Day (on my blog)

Last summer, no wait, summer before last (!!) I was in the most difficult part of my pregnancy. I wanted only to lay in bed and read book after book, and that is just what I did. I escaped from the pregnancy induced depression that was threatening to smash my heart, if not my entire self, by stepping into other people's stories. And it helped.

One of the books I escaped into I had been waiting almost a year to get my hands on. My opinion of the author I will state after I tell a little about the book.

It looks like this (the book, not the author, though she's lovely, too):

The large print version happens to look a lot like my current background (put up just for this post in honor of Heidi, lover and grower of the most beautiful roses and also because the book has a rose growing/thieving element!):

See?

This was the first modern regency period romance novel I have read (I may possibly have bungled the genre a little). I saw one review that said in effect, "This book will mostly appeal to those who like other classic or period novels." I have to say, my personal reflections are that this book can appeal to people who prefer books outside the genre. Yes, it is full of phrases in both dialogue and narrative, that harken back to a time when English was more lovely to the ears, but I think there is much about this book that will appeal to readers of modern chick lit as well.

Every character in Miss Delacourt Speaks Her Mind has a distinct personality with their own quirks that contribute to the fun of this comedy. Just like comedies that take place in more modern settings, you have the person you want to smack, the one you roll your eyes at, the one you want to high five, and the ones you are hoping will finally fall in love with each other etc. The colorful cast of characters goes from misadventure to misadventure, much like more modern heroes/heroines, but rather than scoffing at someone's terrible DVD selection they are gagging over a poor recitation of an even poorer poem. Rather than cruising down the freeway, these ones are driving carriages through the countryside and so on and so forth.

If I was better at weaving words together this is the order in which I would put them to describe this book (L.T. Elliot is a master word crafter so I begged to borrow hers. She also happens to be one of the most sympathetic bloggers and future authors I know.):

"Miss Delacourt does speak her mind--which is exactly why she doesn't fit in typical London society. The well-speaking masks and feigned affections are just the sort of thing Ginny would rather do without. So when her great-aunt traps her with Sir Anthony, the very picture of everything abhorrent to her, Ginny is determined to discover whether the mask he wears can be removed of if he's worn it too long to be anything other than a pompous fake.

With broken carriages, quarantines, and poets catching fire, Miss Delacourt Speaks Her Mindentertains up to the very last page. Jovial and light hearted...the characters and side stories will have you guessing who comes out on top while you chuckle over their unbelievable antics. You'll find yourself wishing the Hero will abandon his stoic ways while hoping the heroine can be tamed. Can a happy medium be found? Who will give in? Read it and find out!"

And now the sequel to the story is out!! My copy is on it's way to my sister's house, from whence it will come to ME! It's called Miss Delacourt Has Her Day and looks like this:

Doesn't that cover almost make you wish you lived in a day when your lady's maid spent a half an hour buttoning your dress to get you ready for the day, or more likely, the evening?

You can purchase either (or both!!) of these books by following the links on their titles, or you can request that your library carry them. As a matter of fact, why don't you do that anyway? Don't you think the people in your city need to read these books? Super easy to ask that the library order them next time you're there!

Now, about the author. Heidi Ashworth happens to be one of my favorite blogging friends. Again, our differences (like with Melanie) are the things I love most about her.

• She is sensitive and considerate
• She has a well developed sense of style and an awesomely decorated home, which looks exactly like you're walking into one of her books.
• She is wise. She is slightly older than me, but probably has 20 times more life experience than I have
• She has about a billion BIG things that she could complain about but rarely does (I have a few small things that I always DO complain about.)

I have had a number of good discussions with Heidi. These are sometimes centered on things we disagree on slightly. I don't know why, but I love that. I really, really want to sit on a couch with her and just chat. About anything! I've invited her over but she still has never come. I'll bake something gluten free!! Come on, what's a few thousand miles between friends!?! :) I guess we'll just continue to converse through email. Love you, Heidi!

In which I Gush

(Consider yourself duly warned, although the title may sound more gruesome than this post is meant to be. Some titles write themselves and will not be changed.)

I have this blogging friend. I love reading her blog. 2 1/2 years ago hers was one of the first I chose off of the MMB website because the first post I read was like something straight out of a Sophie Kinsella book.

Since then I have gotten to know her through her blog. I have read about her awesome life in the OC and her previous life in Louisiana with her deaf parents and a fine-cooking Pawpaw. She has a colorful existence that she writes about with humor and straightforwardness (two things I love).

In 2009 I had the chance to break bread with her (well, split a dulce de leche crepe -- still, division of a starchy food) . I have eaten her delicious mint fudge and have a recipe recommended by her on my regular rotation (corn chowder).

Things we have in common:

• love of food
• height (just under 5'6")
• amazing husbands (plural! Not a common husband. Separate husbands. Both awesome, in different ways.)

Ways we differ:

• she has fashion sense (mine went missing after college and has not been seen since)
• her baby's a girl (mine's a boy)
• her second-to-last child throws up sometimes (mine doesn't, really)
• she writes books and they get published (I don't write any and they never get published)

On her blog, Write Stuff, she was once Melanie J but then she became Melanie Jacobson, because she is now a (soon to be) published author and authors have complete last names that they don't mind people knowing about.

Her first book comes out in March and I'm so excited. I've been excited about it since I mentioned it on my blog back when she was still writing it. That was exactly two years before it will be published (!!! Check out this post wherein I mention it at the beginning and end). And I can't wait to get my hands on it. In March. I mean, just look at this:

Until her book graces us we will get by on a few posts of hers that I LOVE.

First: A funny one. Very funny. Melanie is pretty secure in her awesomeness (and well she should be!) and describes a time when it backfired.

Second: A moral one. A story of an exasperated mother at her snapping point and a stranger who rescued her. One that makes you want to be a better and more understanding person.

Third: A moving one. This is one of my new all-time favorite posts. The sad story of true love and dying from the daughter of the lovers. I bawled. (I love every post about her parents).

She is a seriously great writer and awesome person and I'm so glad to call her a friend. If you haven't already, please read those posts!! And then pick up her book in March!

Love My Neighbor? Check!

We're pretty isolated out here. Of course this is largely by choice, because I'm bad at making friends and very bad at making friends that don't speak my language or understand my culture. (Because I don't really try. Awful, I know.)

A couple of months ago we got word that a new American family was moving into our branch. The family itself wasn't actually new, but the fact of their being in Poland was. Happy news for sure, but even happier was finding out that they were moving closer to us than to Kraków!

I was super excited. Imagine having Americans close enough that we could actually visit each other!! I tried not to get too excited because, really, what if we totally hated each other? No, I didn't actually think that except, only sort of.

See, he's a volleyball player. He came here to play for the team in Rzeszów, one hour away from Mielec. And he played on the US team in the 2008 Olympics and won the gold. Awesome, huh? Super awesome. Except. . .

Greg and I are the least athletic people I know. I mean, Greg walks Nordically and I occasionally spend 7 minutes doing leg lifts and push-ups, but as far as sports? Um, no. We're much more the not-playing-watching-following-or-thinking-about-sports type. So I felt a little worried.

What if they came over and only ever wanted to talk about exercise and physical coordination? What if they only liked to play games that involved a ball? What if they only ever ate volleyball-performance-enhancing foods which I knew nothing about how to cook!?! THIS COULD BE AWFUL!!!

We hadn't met them even once when we invited them to our house for a Halloween party. He had a game that day so we watched it live on TV and then they came over. There was pizza. There were no games involving sports. There was just us (and hardly any decorations).

They were very, very nice. They ate pizza. She brought cookies. They talked about things like what it's like living in Poland, the church, motherhood. Regular things. And, when we asked, they told us a little about their life traveling for Ryan's volleyball career. And I understood and enjoyed every word (none of the technical how-to-play-volleyball talk I had feared) . And I also have no idea if you call it a career or what.

As a matter of fact, we had such a nice time talking that we didn't even do most of the non-sporty Halloween games we had planned for the kids. It was great. Their darling son, Max made my night when, after they had been here for maybe 15 minutes and we were eating pizza, he proclaimed, "This is the BEST HALLOWEEN PARTY EVER!!!" Yes, I realize that this is a four year-old (that probably can't even remember any other Halloweens) and that we had not yet actually started the party, but he was still my new best friend.

Then we had Thanksgiving together. Again, very nice. Our Aaron and their Max were robots. They were the kind of robots that tear apart playrooms, but then put them back together. Robot Max again had the quote of the night when he had finished his mint chocolate pie (another recipe from Chocolate Never Faileth!) and his dad asked, "Hey Max! What are you doing!?!" To which Max replied, "I'm just licking my plate." Sounds like a good Thanksgiving activity to me, even if his dad insisted he wasn't a dog. :)

Up next: a Feliz Navidad party at their place. Awesome. I'm so grateful these guys ended up here. It is so great to have people to spend the holidays with (not "the holidays" as in the holiday season but "the holidays" as in literally each holiday. :) and to get to know in general. We are loving it.
P.S. I exaggerated some of this post, but just the part about my fears, not the part about the gold medal. :)

Accidental Child Abuse and Fudge

For some odd reason I did something different today. Usually I think to myself daily that I sure wish I was the exercising type. Today, instead, I exercised.

Oh, I used to exercise every day. I spent about ten minutes doing a little workout I'd clipped out of a magazine that for sure would give you a flat tummy. I'm not dumb, though. I didn't expect a flat tummy. Didn't get one, either. But I did get a tiny sense of accomplishment every morning for a few years and off and on for a few more years after that.

I could tell it had been a long time since I'd done the routine this morning when there were little boy legs and baby heads and bums everywhere I needed my legs and arms to be. Small children used to know to give me a wide berth when they heard me chanting, "One, two, three. . ." (spoken aloud for purposes of educating young people in the vicinity in the numbers, their order and a practical way to use those numbers.)

If I don't start exercising more regularly Spencer may grow up thinking the proper way to count out your leg lifts and torso twists is more like this, "One. . . tw--excuse me!. . . two. . . three. . . oops, move your little bum sweetie!. . .four. . . five. . . six--oh! Sorry honey! Did I bop you on the head with my elbow?. . . " because he'll hear that a couple times a month and will never learn to get the heck out of the way.

*******

So that was all way too many words to dedicate to exercise (see, I haven't quite got the exercise bug yet, even after doing it for seven minutes today). On to fudge.

I'll share with you the recipe I used for orange fudge. I have never had such smooth and delicious fudge. Never. I grew up on Christmas fudge that contained chocolate, sweetened condensed milk and marshmallows. I think. It was yummy, but only now do I realize that fudge can be both yummy and inferior.

Maybe it was a fluke. After all I DID mess things up a little. I only had cheap (Store brand. Ick.) chocolate of the milk variety and I was supposed to use two different kinds (milk and semi-sweet, I planned). I didn't have any sweetened condensed milk and had to make my own. I swapped out the vanilla or mint extract called for and replaced it with some orange flavoring.

It was delicious. Just like everything else I've made from my Chocolate Never Faileth cookbook. I've had the book for four weeks, one of which I was away from home, so I have made five* recipes out of it in three weeks. (plus three** more that I made before I got the book).

I'm only saying this for your benefit and not as an advertisement but you really ought to get this cookbook for everyone you know who loves chocolate and loves to bake and create. Even those who don't do a lot of baking/creating will love it. You really have to hold the book in your hands to see how lovely it is. It is beautiful inside and out. Just like you. That's why I think everyone should have one. I have spent hours and hours looking at it and reading all the quotes about chocolate and little stories about the creation of each recipe. Plus the recipes themselves. I am a reader of recipes (ingredients, instructions, all of it).

I love it. You should own one.

Here's how the fudge recipe goes (in my own words):

Quick and Easy (I'd call it Fabulous) Fudge
4 tbsp butter
1 can sweetened condensed milk (or one recipe of this)
2 cups of two different kinds of chocolate chips (or whatever you have on hand)
1 tsp vanilla or 1/2 tsp almond or mint extract (or orange)
1 c chopped nuts (I don't like them and left them out)

Butter an 8x8. Melt butter, stir in SCM. Stir in chips (or chopped bars), let them sit a minute and stir again until they are melted. Stir in extract and nuts. Mix well and pour into pan. Refrigerate for an hour (or two) until set. Cut and try not to eat the entire pan yourself. Seriously. Ugh. Do you think seven minutes of non-strenuous exercise works off an 8x8 pan of fudge?

Smooth and delicious. You should seriously make it. (And I should make it again with better ingredients and see if it turns out worse. It couldn't turn out better.)
*Quick and Easy Fudge
Classic Chocolate Chip Cookies
Chocolate Muffins
Chocoholic Lemon Bars
French Silk Pie
**Classic Chocolate Buttercream Icing
Sinful Chocolate Cupcakes
Perfect Chocolate Brownies

Homely Comparisons

I think I learn something every time I go to someone else's house. I know we say we're not supposed to compare ourselves to others, but I think life would be flat and silly (maybe even pointless?) if we didn't. We're all different. That's what makes the world interesting and allows us to learn and grow.

When I go to someone else's house, of course I notice differences between theirs and mine. (not including decor. Most everyone has better/nicer/newer decor than we do. I don't compare there.) I might make mental, often hardly conscious observations like this:

Man, clean (uncluttered) surfaces everywhere!
Eeek. I'm sticking to the back of this dining chair!
What a great idea for a chore chart!
Wow, they're really teaching responsibility the way they have their kids care for their pet!
I hope that stack of books doesn't fall off the piano onto anyone's head.
I have to ask for this recipe!

I learn about things I could improve in my own home. I also learn about things I am doing well. I am reminded that the little things I neglect and don't notice anymore will be noticed by visitors to my own home (hello, piles of papers on the stairs!). It's pretty easy not to judge because our strengths and weaknesses are different and it is easy to recognize that. It's also pretty easy not to get down on myself because I do have strengths, and can work on my weaknesses.

In every house I learn something about how I think my own home should be.

And then I visit the house in which I learn everything about how my home should be.

• The people working there are happy, helpful and calm. They work and seem to care only for the smooth, proper functioning of the house and the joy of those who are inside. They stand, not preoccupied or absorbed with any distraction, but very open, always looking for ways to help anyone that may have problems or who even just may want to chat for a moment.
• It is clean there. Very clean.
• There is a schedule. It is followed and everyone goes about their business knowing what to expect. Things get done; people do those things willingly.
• A spirit of service and love is felt everywhere.

I learn all of these things and do my best to make my own home a house of order, peace and love.

But more than what I learned through observation in that house, I learned through the spirit. I learned what I already know. What I have always known. What matters most to me. But somehow learning it again changes me.

I learn that my Father really, really loves me. I am his. That is amazing. He has big plans for me. I can be so much more than I have been. I have not been who I am. How did I forget who I am, even while I knew it?

How did I forget why on earth I'm here? Or rather why I'm here on Earth? I knew it. I did, and I was reminded and refocused over and over again, but even then, I didn't really get it all the way, I think.

In that house I learned how my home should be. And I learned how and what and who I should be. And why.

'Tis a Gift

Head cold. Not a gift. But here are some things I've been thinking of lately.

One of my favorite things in the world is taking a baby out of his crib. Why are babies so sweet after they sleep? They're so warm and cuddly and happy. There is something about not having held the baby all night, or for the hours during their nap that makes it feel like someone is giving me a gift when finally get to I pick that little guy up. Heaven.

****

I always floss before bed and I'm ALWAYS very tired and I NEVER feel like doing it. Last night I went to floss my teeth and realized I'd already flossed earlier in the day so I didn't really have to floss again. It felt like someone was handing me a little package. I was very happy. I doubt if I would be any happier if someone knocked on the door and handed me $50. (I thought long and hard about an amount. More than 50 and I would have been happier than about not having to floss, but less than that, for sure not.)

Okay, I just read over the parenthesis in that last paragraph and am in love with the sense of it all. Not to mention the relevance. It is just so important (the whole flossing thing!) and I'm pleased to now publish it on my blog.

I have a head cold.

You Might Be A Mother

IF:

...you argue with a three year old over whether or not his eyes are blue and then pull out your phone and take a picture, on the spot, to prove you're right. (then look on the computer and realize that the picture is lot more grainy than it was on your phone)


...while combing a girl's hair you ask if she knows why you came into the world. When she responds, without missing a beat, "To be our mom" you tear up a little and scold yourself for ever, ever complaining about this gig.

...you can't sit down to eat a sandwich for three minutes without being tugged at, pulled on and stared at with eyes that say "hold me, mommy!"
...you sometimes grab a nine year-old boy and sit him on your lap and talk to him, the whole time wondering how on earth he got to be SO BIG.

...you realize that nearly everything you write as your status update on facebook includes something certain kids have said or done. You want to stop boring people but you kind of can't.

...you laugh and cry both with and about the same kids pretty much every day.

...you love to read, write and talk about children and parenting, even with people you have never met before, on a regular basis.

Now, I'm not saying any of these criteria apply to me, I'm just saying that I'm pretty sure I'm a mother.

Defining "My People"

So, I miss my people. The people of mine who I miss the most-- sometimes more, sometimes a lot more and sometimes not quite so much more, but whom I always feel the lack of--are my family. Those people really belong to me and should live closer.

But there are other people I feel rather possessive of. Millions of them. I will explain.

As I put my carry-on in the overhead compartment of a plane that will cross the Atlantic to my Patria, I hear numerous loud conversations going on. This guy is telling his neighbor about a show he saw in Las Vegas, that lady is explaining to a man about a rude person she met while on vacation. Over there a man is laughing boisterously as he tells a story about a family member. It's a bit of an overload for me. I didn't really want or need to hear any of that. It almost seems rude to bombard strangers with personal stories, loudly told, and yet I sit down, listen, and smile broadly. I love these people. They are Americans.

***

As we unload our luggage in a hotel parking lot two young men come walking from the other end of the lot. When they are still quite far away I tell Ev, "those guys are Americans". I can tell because of how they look and. . . seem. They are casually dressed and seem happy and laid back. I cannot fully describe it. Soon we see they are coming toward us, and that they are former missionaries back in Poland for a visit. They are Americans.

***

Walking down the crowded streets of beautiful Krakow I come face to face with a woman and we do the side-to-side trying-to-get-out-of-each-other's-way dance. She makes eye contact, smiles and then we pass each other, without speaking a word. I lean to Greg and we say at the same time, "that was an American".

***

I meet people and within the first few sentences I speak to them I, out of habit, utilize verbal irony. They laugh, or smile or keep a straight face and respond with irony as well. They are Americans.

***

We've had mission presidents' wives from South Africa and then Denmark for the last six years. (I love and admire them both). But now we have a new one and after our first few minutes of conversation I feel like we've been friends for years. She is an American.

***

I get these people and they get me. That (obviously) makes them mine.

Finding Treasure

School starts Wednesday so we decided to get out and do one last family activity.

It ended up being an adventure that involved lots of dark clouds, rocky terrain, , pitch black, cramped spaces, age-old fresh springs in hard-to-get-to basements, thunder, huge, open corridors with dusty red floors, sudden, cold drafts through enormous window openings, and a green, grassy courtyard.

We visited Krzyżtopór castle (an hour away!)and found treasure. There is a legend that treasure is buried somewhere beneath the castle, but we found it everywhere we looked. It was a family adventure that I really will treasure forever. (I reserve the right to be as cheesy as I choose on my personal blog, thankyouverykindly.)

Funny, too, because I'm usually the one who wants to head home as soon as it gets cold or wet, but I could not get enough of the weather. It created the greatest ambiance for castle ruin exploration.


The ruins date from the first half of the 17th century. I was super excited to visit it because this castle features prominently in James Michener's Poland. It has (had) 365 windows, 52 rooms, 12 ballrooms and four towers.

We didn't have flashlights, but next time we go we'll be sure each of the kids has their own. You need them to get through the dark cavernous passageways on the ground floor and below.
Plus, it's easier to see all the ghosts with a flashlight. Or without one. Hmmm.
My favorite spot was in the place shown below. There once hung huge portraits of family members in the openings. Not sure why I loved it so much but I could spend all day there. I just felt so small and it was beautiful.

Everywhere we went we could tell if other explorers (call them tourists if you're boring) spoke English by whether or not they chuckled or stifled a laugh. This was because everywhere we went Aaron repeated phrases such as:

"Mom, we kinda hafta go because daddy's walking now."
"Okay. We have to be really careful in here."
"Be careful. You can't run because you might go. . . and bump your head on a rock."
"It's kinda freaky!"
"Oh my gosh! I LOVE it in here!"
"It's like a ghost in there."

In the car on the way home he said, "You don't what, mom? I love you, but I want some toast." No, that has nothing to do with this post, but I thought it was funny. (He always says, "You don't what?" instead of "you know what?")

He also got tired of us pointing out all the cows, goats, tractors, storks, ponds etc. on the drive and eventually said, "I know mom! I can see EVERYTHING!" Well pardon me, Aaron!

I'm so glad we finally discovered this castle and that it is so close by! Now we can go there every other day.

Made Over

I've been thinking a lot lately about making myself over. I want to lose another ten pounds (or fifteen. Twenty would be okay, too) I desperately need a haircut (see previous post). I haven't bought clothes in a thousand years and never feel well dressed etc.

The last time I made myself over I got a haircut and new glasses on the same day (this was two years ago). I was quite excited. Until I came home looking like this.

Now, I'm not saying it's the worst look in the history of all looks, I'm just saying that I absolutely hated the haircut and felt like a total dork in the glasses. I would give that makeover an F.

I won't be buying new clothes until I lose the weight (and we strike it rich. Both things will likely happen around the same time) and a haircut can only do so much for you, so that makeover will have to wait.

~~*****~~

Listening to General Conference made me feel like it was time for a different kind of makeover. I got a huge amount of inspiration and am excitedly making changes that will likely soon have me translated (maybe I won't have to worry about the new wardrobe after all, since I think they give you your white robes in Heaven gratis)

~~*****~~

Now, the other part of me, my blog, has been in need of a makeover for ages upon ages, ever since all the graphics and borders mysteriously stopped appearing about a year ago. This has been The Year In Which Lisa Didn't Care, but now I'm starting to care again.

I had just been scouring the Internet for a new template when a friend of mine made an offer that was positively providential (are you hearing Mrs. Spencer's voice? I am.)

There are a number of reasons I am grateful I read Melissa Bastow's blog. First of all, she is Fu-nny. Silly and funny and fun to read. She has excellent phobias and four very small and sweet-cheeked kids as well as a fabulous imagination (hence the phobias, I believe).

The imagination also contributes to her artisticness. She draws, and has a website, Green Jello with Carrots, that offers some awesome clipart and games, and handouts and posters and other paraphernalia for use at church (primary, RS, YW etc.) or home (FHE, Conference, etc.)

She's also branching out into photography, but even more applicable to you all, she makes buttons. Not the kind that keep your pants up or your shirt on, the kind you stick in your sidebar. You know, for advertisement and also to look cute. If you want a button, Melissa is the girl for you.

BUT the real reason I'm glad I read Melissa is because she offered to make my blog over. How happy was I!?! Very. Until it came time to tell her what I wanted. Hmmmm. I gave her an extremely vague idea, and LOOK WHAT SHE DID TO MY BLOG!!!

I really love this new look. It's perfect for spring. It's awesome, and I'm SO thankful to her. She can really do anything. She made her own blog and I'm pretty sure she put together the other sites, too.

Now this makeover I would give an A.

Check her out if you want a button, or a makeover!! (or clipart or a photoshoot)

*Please love my punctuation and capitalization in this post

Perfect Day

Today is a holiday (Poland's Independence Day) so Greg and the kids stayed home. Here's what it was like for me:

warm house full of happy children

gray and drizzly all day

leftover chocolate cake

I can't imagine better conditions for curling up with a good book. So that's what I did. Except for the curling up part. Because you can't really curl up with a binder (especially not with an enormous belly), and what I was reading was a binder full of recipes. Recipes that suggest that you "thoroly blend" ingredients together, or that tell you to drop the dough on a "cooky sheet", or that require you to drain or reserve "sirop" from a can of fruit and give you the option to use either a chopped bar of chocolate or "packaged chocolate pieces", and where 90% of the cakes and cookies call for shortening instead of butter. There's also a separate section entitled "Leftovers" and one for "Canning and Freezing".

I'm so completely charmed by this 1949 Better Homes and Gardens Cook Book that belonged to my stepmother's great aunt (how's that for a cool connection?). It's just fascinating reading for me. And the book's stuffed full of old newspaper clippings of recipes and ideas for entertaining (with the fantastic advertisements here and there). I've been completely transported back in time, and I LOVE it. I feel that if I can just stick with this book, plus another favorite of mine that my mom gave me, The Art of Homemaking (1969), and also develop the fashion sense of this lady, I'll be my perfect self.

I just received it in the mail yesterday and the fact that I've already found two recipes (identical recipes!) that I already make regularly and love dearly (brownie pudding and borscht) makes me really excited to start trying out some of the other recipes.

Thanks so much to Pam for the cook book!

Such Rebels

In doing research for articles I often look through online reviews for stores, products or services.

I just want to say that I really sort of love people who "defiantly recommend" things. And an alarming number of people do defiantly recommend things.

And I think they're darling.