Missed Her Sister

There once was a woman whose sister visited her in Poland with her four children.  They played and had fun for two weeks, after which the visiting sister left.  Her absence left the woman asking the question, "who's going to wash the dishes now?"

Having pondered this question without finding a satisfactory answer, the woman walked away from the sinkful of dishes and headed to the computer, where she decided to write down a few memories from the family-filled two weeks.

She recounted the sweetness of her nieces and nephew.  She remembered watching them play with her own four children and delighting in the quality cousin time, on this, the first time they had ever had cousins visit in their home.  She recalled the billions of hugs she had been given.  As a non-hugger, she was surprised at how much she loved all the love.

She documented memories of her sister washing the dishes, helping with the cooking, taking care of all the children and constantly looking for ways to be of help.

She thought back to a conversation:
Woman: I know it's weird that we eat in the living room, in front of the TV.  We're so Simpson-esque.
Sister:  Yeah... Wait, did they eat in front of the TV... No, they ate around the kitchen table!  You're WORSE than the Simpsons!!

She was amazed at how, after a week of eating things like cake, pie, cookies and muffins, her sister announced that she only had a few weeks left until her 40th birthday, and she wanted to be at her target weight.  The sister immediately started in on the Dukan diet (the one the woman's husband had used to lose 35 pounds in 6 weeks). She completely ignored the woman's next week of dinners and treats in favor of lots of yogurt, eggs, tuna, and oat bran.

The woman had lovely memories of a power outage, a patriotic holiday, castles, underground tunnels, old town squares, ornate churches and lots of ice cream shared with family.  She relived attending church in her own little branch--meeting in the missionaries' apartment--as it overflowed with children who all attended the one-class "Primary" in the living room.  

She didn't write much detail, but just the act of typing it up was nice.  And a little sad.  She missed her sister. And still didn't know who was going to wash the dishes.

About Kuba

I've known Kuba, Greg's best friend since elementary school, for just about as long as I've known Greg, although I didn't actually meet him until we'd been married for almost two years (meet Kuba, not Greg.  I both heard about AND met Greg before we got married.).

Back in the early days when I was just getting to know Greg, he would tell stories about his exciting life back in Poland.  Because he'd only been a member of the church for a year before going to the states (for his mission and then school), most of his memories were from before he joined the church.

Buddhism, poetry, , tai chi, hitchhiking, and wandering the Polish countryside with nothing but a little food and some cigarettes.  It was such an exotic life, and so different from my own youth.  I ate up every detail (except the cigarettes.  I spat those out), and asked lots of questions.  I couldn't get enough.  My very favorite stories were those of his adventures with Kuba. In some of our more peaceful and happy moments before and while dating, I would request "Kuba stories".  


Stories of teasing the girls and various pranks in school, eating sandwiches together after school, adventures with their Syrian friend, and many, many adventures (and misadventures) in foreign countries (most notably Berlin) while hitchhiking.  Kuba was like a brother to Greg growing up, so I kind of thought of him that way, too.  


Greg was with Kuba when he met the missionaries in Vienna.  Later Kuba invited Greg to his baptism, which was the real catalyst for Greg investigating the church.  Which lead to him joining it.  Which eventually lead to him marrying me.  I sort of owe Kuba a lot.


When I was heavily pregnant with Ewelina, this mystical, magical personage left Poland and came to Utah to attend BYU.  We picked him up at the airport.  He even looked like Greg's brother..  They were very happy to see each other.  They laughed a lot.  I enjoyed it.


It was a little hard for me to believe that this kind of quiet, thoughtful, though usually smiling, person was the prankster I had heard so much about, but the more time we spent with him and the better I got to know his sense of humor I realized that he was probably capable of all I had heard.  :)  


It was wonderful for Greg to have his best friend back for the next year or so before we moved back to Poland.  I was happy to get to know him on a more personal level, to add to my "Kuba story"-based understanding of him.


After he finished school at BYU he moved back to Poland and we have seen him now and again while visiting Greg's parents in Łódż.  He and Greg have had a few more adventures wandering and hiking (this time with fewer cigarettes and less alcohol--although good Kuba never smoked)   


And now, we are having the worst adventure of all.  Kuba went back to Utah for a visit last month and, after being there for a couple of weeks visiting with friends, he just disappeared.  No trace.  His things were left at the home he was staying in, but no other trace of him has been found since last month.  We are searching.  Greg is still hoping that this is just his biggest prank yet.  We want him found.  


It seems to me that the more people hear about this, the greater the chance that he WILL be found.  


If anyone would "like" or share the following links it would help his story to be spread.


http://www.heraldextra.com/news/local/central/provo/article_fea13635-4249-5125-8486-d2e3c78973ef.html#.T-N9ExB2Dpc.facebook

http://utahcountysouth.fox13now.com/news/news/74280-missing-person-jakub-gorowski#.T-Nar1sGYUo.facebook

I don't have a picture of Kuba, though there is one in the above links, but here is a picture that he took years ago of us with his parents one time when we visited.



His dad passed away last year, but his mother surely wants him found, too.  I'm constantly praying it will happen soon.

UPDATE!  A friend has created a website to organize efforts to find him.  Find it HERE.  A search party is being organized to meet on Saturday, June 23rd at the north end of Rock Canyon, behind the temple at 8:45.  All volunteers welcome!!

Clean Up! Niech Żyje Nam!

The other day we were all in the living room watching TV together, or so I thought.  When I got up to go to the kitchen I heard a tiny voice coming from the playroom.  I went to see what was going on and here is what I found.  In the (very messy) playroom Spencer was cleaning up of his own volition and singing his very own version of the clean-up song.  note: He was mostly naked because I'd taken off his clothes before he ate spaghetti for dinner.

The Polish congratulatory song "Sto Lat" starts in almost the same way as "The Clean-up Song", so I can definitely see how this remix came to be.  I still think he's a little smarty(under)pants.

Growth

Like most normal beings of the human persuasion, I enjoy Spring.  I love the warm-but-not-hot weather, with plenty of rain and gloom mixed in with the sunshine (okay, maybe loving the gloom part is just me).  I delight in the color and shape of flowers.  Trees, one of my favorite things on this earth, have been known to make me cry (even when I wasn't pregnant!).

In the photo above you see one of my favorite Sights of Spring.  I love the old and the new.  What was and what will be.  The colors are beautiful together and I love how clearly you can see the growth of the tree.

Lately I've been feeling quite a lot like that.  Like I had a lot of the dark green.  Parts of me that had been.  Old parts.  And now there is a burst of the Spring green all over.  I can feel myself stretching out, growing and changing shape, while all of the old me remains as a base.

I'm not talking about weight gain.  Not in this post anyway.  Ha.  But I have been learning about food and health and new ways of living.  I've listened to people who have different opinions and beliefs about religion and politics.  It has changed me.  It has started new growth.

I view the world differently now.  I hold dearly to much of what has been.  The good things.  The things that were right.  But I can see them from a different angle, too.  I can understand another view.  It is fascinating and extremely thought provoking.

Life is just so awesome and interesting.  So much to be had and so many ways to grow.  So many shades of green.

We Just Wake Up and then Get Out of There

I woke up to the sounds of a young child wiggling in his sleeping bag.  A tiny crack of light was coming in through the paper blinds so I knew it was getting to be morning, but my alarm hadn't gone off, so I also knew I could keep sleeping.

The sounds progressed from wiggling noises to loud sighs and finally to a declaration, whispered into the otherwise silent roomful of sleeping bodies:  "I don't like going to hotels.  We just go to bed, wake up and then get out of here."

While it was a very strange thing to hear first thing in the morning, he was right.  Our weekend adventures usually consist of a long drive, hours spent at a chapel where Greg or I have meetings and then, finally, arriving at the hotel in time to go through the bedtime routine, sleep, and wake up early to head off to church again.

He was right that our hotels stays aren't super vacation-y (although they can be fun and have been know to be adventuresome at times).  But he was wrong about not liking it.  He loves going to hotels.  He doesn't mind sleeping on the very hard floor in a sleeping bag.  He never complains about the drive, though it's between 3 and 6 hours one way, depending on the branch.

Yes, although it's generally all business, we all love traveling for the church.  I realized today that we have been taking these weekend trips from 1-4 weekends a month every month for the past 10 years, except for at the end of pregnancy.  It's been our life since Greg has been overseeing the southern part of Poland (first in the mission presidency and then (now) as district president).  Evie had just turned two when we started.  It's been a big part of my parenting experience and my children's life.  I just love it. I have a hard time imagining living a different way.  I'm not sure how long it will last, but in this church when one adventure ends, a new one always begins.

Souvenir

Most people looking at this picture would see a small plastic cup and spoon.  And that's what it is.  A racquetball probably would not fit in the cup.  It's small.  And it is plastic.  And there's a tiny spoon with it.

When we were in Italy I didn't buy any souvenirs.  An ornamented ceramic mask would not mean anything to me.  The pictures we took are much better (to me) than any postcard or painting or statuette.  What I did do was snatch my family's gelato cups out of their hands before they could throw them in the trash.

THAT.  That right there is a souvenir.  To me.  It takes me back.  I see delicious ice cream, savored during conversations with people I love in places I never thought I would be.  I see stacks of the different colored bowls turned upside-down on counter tops in gelato shops.  I remember dreaming of one filled with a smooth delicious treat as we wandered, stomachs growling but eyes feasting, through Venice in search of "Quanto Basta" pizzeria. I can almost feel the wet-wipe in my hand after cleaning off Spencer's hands and face in Murano and Budoia (how romantic!).

It's just a small plastic cup and spoon, but it happens to be my favorite little cup and spoon in the world.

I'll post a bit about our trip soon enough.

Surprise! You're [going to be] on Camera!

Last Wednesday Greg came home from work and announced that a TV crew might be coming to our house the next day to film a Mormon family in Poland.  "Oh!  Good thing our house is always TV ready!!"  I thought.  No I didn't.  I didn't think at all, really.  What I did was finish the English lesson I was teaching and got straight to putting away some piles of things and hiding others.  Greg suddenly came up with about 5 DIY projects that would have to be done.

We did it all and managed to not feel stressed at all.  I spent the next morning cleaning and baking and practicing answering what questions I thought they might ask me about my faith and the GOP race in my head, in Polish (I'm quite fluent in my head!).

In the end, they came, they interviewed Greg (alone) for about 45 minutes, they recorded our family scripture study, they ate cookies and they left, 75 minutes total.

It aired and we are satisfied.  It will not have people coming to the chapel in droves, but it also shouldn't scare too many people away.  And, as we expected, clips with Greg and our family are numbered in the seconds.  I typed up the translation underneath, so maybe read first then watch?

And one more interesting fact:  We told the camera crew that Greg had narrated the documentary of the Sesquicentennial Celebration filmed by the same channel in SLC 15 years ago.  Apparently they remembered because the old clips shown are from that documentary, including a shot of Greg sitting in Sacrament meeting  (15 years ago!!), which you can see at  :34.

Here's the clip:  (And this is all very natural.  We always sit smooshed together on one side of the room.  And of course I never sit down for evening scripture study without making sure my lips are sparkly .We're in the second half.)

So this all came up rather suddenly but it ended up being a pretty neat family experience.

Translation:  Theoretically the race isn't decided, but there is one favorite.  Mitt Romney will most likely be fighting Barack Obama for the White House this fall. If he wins the Republican nomination, he will be the first Mormon with a chance at the White House, but his religion will be an obstacle rather than an advantage.  Mitt Romney: Republican, conservative and...Mormon.  "Romney's Mormonism isn't harmful to anyone but himself, because people first say that he's a Mormon and th."  But what's the problem?  For many Americans Mormonism is a religion shrouded in secrecy.  (American in Poland says:)  "Most Americans don't know what Mormonism is exactly.  Many think it's some kind of a cult, not a religion."  Romney has answered the question "Are you a Christian?" many times.  "I believe Jesus Christ is the son of God and the Savior of mankind." There are still many myths surrounding our religion, admits Darek Dresler, a Mormon from Warsaw. "People's opinions are based on westerns."  For example, the issue of polygamy.  The church's founder had over thirty wives, but that's in the past.  "Any members who try to practice polygamy are ex-communicated."  (Greg reading from BOM) " For they were desirous to take them that they might punish them..." There are over 13 million Mormons worldwide-- in Poland, about 1200.  Greg Pawlik is one of them, and was asked what differentiates Mormons from Catholics and Protestants:  "The first thing that differentiates us is the fact that we don't drink alcohol, and we don't smoke cigarettes... Besides the Bible we also read the Book of Mormon, which is why people often call us Mormons.  We call ourselves members of the Church of Jesus Christ."  In Poland Mormonism doesn't spark controversy, but in the United States it's a different story because the candidacy to the White House there are concerns.  "That he might be more concerned about the good of the Mormon church than the United States."  Big challenges ahead for Romney.  He will have to answer questions not only about his platform, but also about his religion.

Well Look at THAT!

Greg, David, Evie and I all wear glasses.  I have a feeling it's just a matter of time for the other two.  Apparently Spencer was feeling like it was a matter of more time than he wanted to wait, so his sweet brother whipped him up a pair to wear right now.

There.  That's muuuuuch better.  (Sorry for the awful, even-worse-than-usual photo quality x2.  But they give you the idea.)
*Note: the marks above Spencer's mouth and the smudge over Aaron's are from eyeliner mustaches, which they request almost every day.  Sometimes they get thick ones, sometimes pointy ones and sometimes curling, French ones.  They love them. So do people wherever we run errands.

For Your Convenience

While in California a few months ago I had the pleasure of holding Spencer up to a drinking fountain and letting him run the water over his tongue and down his chin.  I suppose every American mother has experienced teaching their children to drink from a drinking fountain.  It's so funny how difficult  something so simple can be.

And what's really funny is that NONE of my kids know how to do it.  This is crazy.  (Although Evie claims she pretty much got the hang of it during her month in New Jersey last summer.)

When I first met my in-laws, when they visited us 13 years ago in Provo, one of the things that shocked me was the fact that my 11 year-old Polish nephew had absolutely no idea how to drink from a drinking fountain.  I'd never met anyone that was out of diapers that didn't know how and it was hilarious watching him try.

Now here I am with four children of my own, all out of diapers, who are also fountain-drinking impaired.

If you've spent any time in Europe you probably understand why.  No drinking fountains.  The nearest one I know of is 9 hours away in Freiberg, Germany, at the temple (just one of the many things I love about going to the temple).

No, one must purchase water.  Always, always purchase water.  No free tap water in restaurants, no place to catch a quick sip in the mall.  NO FREE WATER.  I miss drinking fountains and their convenience.

But there's something over here that I love almost as much.  While in Łódź recently we drove through the streets at night and I saw these little bonfires placed randomly on the sidewalk.  I thought that was so weird.  Greg told me they are simply for pedestrians to warm themselves at.  "How cool!"  I thought (ironically).

Apparently during the time of martial law in Poland from 1981-1983 koksowniki were "invented" (?) mainly to keep the militia (during that time the police were referred to as militia) warm as they paced the streets making sure people were keeping curfew and other communism-imposed laws.

Fortunately the militia and the curfew and the communism have gone the way of ... other Polish-repressing bad things, but the coal bins?  They're still here.

And I'm glad, because while we were out at the optician and getting Spencer a passport we did a lot of walking.  It was well below zero (in both Fahrenheit and Celsius) and we froze.  I was shocked at how quickly this thawed us and how wonderful it felt.

.

Almost as shocked as I was when I first watched my nephew at a drinking fountain.

The Person Who Took Me Out On Valentine's Day

While visiting my in-laws in Łódż a couple weekends ago, we decided to take advantage of the free babysitting (not that we ever pay for babysitting...) and go on an early Valentine's date.  

On the way to our destination Greg snacked on a bag of hazelnuts.  He's a lover of all nuts and has always eaten them.  Quite a lot.  As he drove and ate I asked, "Did you eat that whole bag!?!"  

It was really only 100grams (I think), but I could never eat that many nuts in one sitting.  He replied, "It was a small bag!" while tipping the last few nuts into his mouth."  

Within less than a minute his nose started running like crazy.  He had to pull over to take care of it.  He felt very weird and congested and couldn't believe how suddenly the feeling had come on.  Although he'd never experienced anything like it, we realized it must have been an allergic reaction.

I was a little worried it would get worse and suggested we go back home.  Or maybe to the emergency room.  He said he'd be fine and we continued to Manufaktura.  When we got there we bought a box of tissues and he took some essential oils and we headed to a neat little cafe and ate cake.

It was hard to talk about anything but his reaction.  Especially because I got in the car with a man that was approximately this dashing:

And then found myself sitting across the table from an alien man that was approximately this dashing.

Yikes!  Poor guy.  The swelling was gone by the next afternoon, but unfortunately he won't be eating nuts, probably ever again. Or seeds, as he learned when he ate bread with sunflower seed in it.  (or "shine seeds" as Aaron calls them).

After reading on the subject he learned that sometimes it is just a matter of the amount you eat.  You could eat, for example, 90 grams of nuts and be fine, but if you ate another 10 grams you might have the reaction.  He wishes he'd stopped eating when I asked about it (although I was only a little surprised, and didn't mean to criticize).  Seriously that last 5 nuts probably made all the difference.  He swears he'll start taking what I say into greater consideration.  :)

Faith and Other Young Women Values

I loved the Young Women program.  I loved the beautiful, amazing women who were called to be my leaders.  I wanted exactly what they had: strong testimonies and handsome, loving husbands and children.  Because they had just what I was hoping to get, I listened to what they taught and watched what they did.  I admired them and I believed them.

I loved attending Sunday meetings.  I sat on the third floor of our chapel* during opening exercises at the huge table, made of a number of tables pushed together, and looked across at the Laurels on the other side.  I dreamed of the day I would be in high school and would be smart and dating and, hopefully, one-tenth as beautiful as those girls.

I loved it when my teacher brought a basket full of freshly baked muffins or cookies to class.  I loved the object lessons.  I loved when they spoke about the things that mattered most to them and I felt the spirit and was changed.

I loved our diverse group of girls.  I enjoyed it very much when the girl who was a year younger than me and had family problems came to church.  She wore black and looked down and covered her face with her platinum blonde hair.  If you ever caught a glimpse of her eyes, she was rolling them.  I considered it my unofficial calling to get her to smile.  I fellowshipped her the only way I knew how.  I was glad she took kindly to verbal irony.

I loved Wednesday activities.  I relished the chance to hang out with my friends on a school night.  I liked doing service projects and playing games.  I loved the hope that I'd see whichever-boy-it-was-I-had-a-crush-on-at-the-time playing basketball.  I loved the joint activities, especially the broom hockey in the cultural hall, despite the fact that I came home with bruised and bleeding shins from all the brooms that missed the "puck" (folded pair of socks) and bashed my legs instead.  To this day that is the only "sport" I've ever felt a deep love for.

I have a daughter.  She's twelve.  Apart from our family, there are five church members in our branch.  None of them are young women.  In our entire district (4 branches scattered across southern Poland) there are a total of 3 or 4 other young women.

Ewelina does not have what I had.  Honestly, she doesn't have anything close to it.  I realize we are all given different experiences and we can each grow from the situation we find ourselves in.  It's still really hard.  As long as 7 years ago or so I told people who asked that we would probably move back to the states by the time Evie was 12 so she could have the same character and testimony building opportunities that I had by attending Young Women.

But we're still here.  She has contact with the other girls in our district.  She is grateful, but it's not the same.  She wishes she had what she saw this summer, when she was visiting her cousins in New Jersey.  She misses what I had.  I hugged her tonight as she cried about it, holding back my own tears.

And I need to find a way to be to her what my leaders were to me.  But how!?!   How on earth can I BE THAT?  I need to be teaching her the lessons from the manual, but I should also be teaching my other three kids the lessons they should be learning in Primary.  It is too much and I am weak and lazy.

Ev and I just sat down and talked about Personal Progress.  I think she is excited.  It is a fantastic program and will give her much of what I had and teach her the things she needs to know.

I am grateful for a Father who knows what we need and is ready to bless us with it.  If we ask in faith, he will give it to us.  I hope he will, even after having written a blog post about how the most I can expect to be given doesn't seem like enough.   But I know that He can give whatever is required for Evie to develop a strong and sustaining testimony of the gospel.  And, what it comes down to is that that is the thing I'm really after.
*our chapel was previously a country club.  If you've watched God's Army you've seen it, when the missionaries are eating lunch on the terrace and the "Lamanite" calls down and preaches repentance to the inhabitants of Hollywood.

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.

Twitterpated

Because I haven't been baking as much lately (totally keeping my resolution!), I sometimes scrounge up something for the kids to have for "dessert".  One night a few weeks ago it was candy canes off the Christmas tree.  That night, after putting the kids to bed, I came down to the kitchen and saw Evie's lunch box sitting on the table, like this:

For some this might just look like a cute little note* from my daughter, but it was more than that to me!  It was  proof she'd been reading this book:



That's because this book is about a girl whose dad challenges her to write one thank you note a week (in hopes of working an attitude adjusting miracle), and she does.  And her name is Pepper Spicer, as Evie accidentally signed.  :)  It's a fun book; the second by author/blogger/friend) Melanie Jacobson.The first was The List, which I wrote about here.

And, since tomorrow is Valentine's Day, I'll do you a favor and tell you about a sale on her newest book, out next month!

Twitterpated is available for pre-order and TODAY AND TOMORROW you can get 25% off by entering the code: WKNDSALE.  That is a seriously great deal.  So get out your credit card and tell your husband he's getting you a great LDS chick-lit book for Valentine's Day.  I did.

And no, I haven't read the book yet, but I've read her other two and it's impossible that this one will not be awesome.

*Notice Evie's Polish writing and never-taken-a-spelling-test spelling.  The question mark after the "sencierley" isn't because she wasn't sure she was sincere, but because she knew she massacred the spelling.

Mom According to Aaron

I love reading Evie and David's answers to these questions 3 1/2 years ago so much that I thought I'd do the interview with Aaron.  He's four.  And he's our first kid who talks like a kid (Evie and David weren't that interesting in terms of grammatical errors.)  He shows it off nicely in the interview.

What is something mom always says to you? "I was just tricking"

What makes mom happy?  To play ball with Aaron outside.

What makes mom sad?  That Aaron is grouchy--everybody is grouchy.

How does mom make you laugh?  That diaper cars come to us.  (he giggles) {(rolling my eyes) Uuummmm, okaaay, but what do I do to make you laugh?}You tell me funny stories.  And scary stories.

What was mom like as a child?  You were playing something.

How old is mom?  He kind of growed.  He's kind of old, but not very old.  {But how old am I?} You are 10.

How tall is mom?   Like seven-eight.  Right?

What is mom's favorite thing to do?  Play Candyland and play Leaping Lizards, and Play Pooh Bear.

What does mom do when you're not around?  When Spencer's grouchy you take care of him.

If mom becomes famous, what will it be for? Because they love you very much and we live here.

What is mom really good at?  Getting really strong things and heavy things.

What is mom not very good at?  Pick up the whole house with a finger.  Only Jesus can.

What is mom's job?  To wash dishes and to make things and to eat things.


What is mom's favorite food?  Eggs and zupa (soup) and broccoli

What makes you proud of mom?  That you look nice and that you are very, very happy.

If mom were a cartoon character, who would she be?  What are you talking Habout!?!  (Quoting Edna Mode. Not sure if he was asking what I was talking about or telling me I'm most like Enda...)

What do you and mom do together?  I help you make dinner and brownies and cake.

How are you and mom the same?  That we are happy and not grouchy.

How are you and mom different?  I don't know.

How do you know mom loves you?  Because I love you like you love me.  And you love me the most.  Because I look sweet.  

THINGS HE LIED ABOUT:

• I am not quite as cheerful as he painted me, but I'd like to be!  
• I'm not all that strong, either.  
• I have a lower tolerance for the games he claimed are my "favorite thing to do" than most parents, I bet.
• I'm not ten.  
• And I'm not 78 tall.  Though I did kind of grow (from the time I was a kid and played something.)
• I don't tell funny stories.  

But I do tell him that I was kidding or teasing or joking quite often (though rarely that "I was just tricking.")

And for sure if I'm ever famous it will surely be because we live here.

Also, if he had to state a way in which I'm not like Jesus, I'm delighted that not being able to lift a home with one finger is the first thing that came to mind.  :)

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.