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.

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.

Drug Free for 7 Months

We aren't big drug users around here.  We have taken something when we get very uncomfortable, but not all that often.  Still, when I think back on all the times we've been very uncomfortable in the last 7 months and all the times we would have taken a pill or downed some syrup or used ointment or spray it adds up to quite a lot of times.

There are SIX of us in this house and we haven't taken (or bought) any prescription OR over-the-counter medication in the last seven months (apart from Advil for my stubborn headaches).  This is true even though we've had (skip the list if it's TMI)

allergies
anxiety
athlete's foot
back pain
bug bites
burns
colds (runny nose, coughing, sore throat)
cramps
cuts/scrapes
digestive issues (every type)
flu (fevers, aches, cold symptoms)
infections (toe)
rashes
toothaches/root canal
etc.

And now, at the risk of sounding like a new age freak, I just have to say that I love, love, love essential oils, which, you may have guessed, we started using 7 months ago.  In that time we haven't taken the kids to the doctor except once (when Evie had an ingrown toenail that worried me.  We held on to the prescription for antibiotics that the doctor wrote out, used oils with antibiotic properties and didn't have to fill the prescription after all.)  There is always something on hand that is completely safe and natural that we can try before taking anyone to the doctor.  And we just haven't had to.

Can you tell that this makes me happy?  Hugely, hugely happy?  We'll use medicine and doctors any time we need to, but I am starting to understand the neighbors of a friend (who I thought were a bit OTT a few months ago) who quit their health insurance policy (except for emergencies or something) because they used essential oils.

I'm glad we have a doctor and access to modern medicine, and I'm even more glad that we pretty much haven't had to use them, or deal with side effects and wait in discomfort to take the next dose, etc.

I haven't mentioned this on my blog, even though it's so important to me (now, though I was quite a skeptic before we tried them).  But now that I have, I will probably share some of the surprises as they come.  I still am regularly shocked when the oils work on a new ailment and I might just post anecdotes at the end of blog posts, like in italics so you can skip them if you don't care.  :)

Do you use oils or know anyone who does?  Do you think it makes me a freak?  Did you know they can be used in place of medicine? (I didn't)  Do you have an ailment that medicine doesn't seem to help that oils might help?  Essential oils are so powerful, especially therapeutic grade oils (we use DoTerra's top quality oils.)  I'm very grateful for them.
In case it's not clear, I'd be delighted to talk to anyone about oils who wants to!  It never gets old. Just drop me a line.

A Wrinkle From Time

My sister Anne and I were often mistaken for twins when we were kids.  Because of this, and the fact that everyone in her apartment complex at BYU knew I was her sister the second they laid eyes on me when I visited from Ricks, we started a tradition of staring into the mirror, cheek to cheek and comparing our faces. Seriously, every time we have been shocked at how alarmingly different we look.  Every feature is so different, we are baffled at how anyone could think we look similar.

We are only 13 months apart.  Anne used to love to laugh through the entire month in which she was actually TWO years older than me.  I was such a baby that month!  Ha!

But now the laugh's on her!  That extra year and a month has rewarded her with the beloved prize time allows us all: wrinkles.  Wrinkles before her baby sister started showing them.  Who's laughing now, huh Anne!?!  Hahahahahahahaha!

Just kidding.

I hope I didn't have to say that.  I would never laugh at the misfortunes of a sibling.  Well, that's not true.  At all.   But whatever.  The point is, in this case I did not and will not laugh at my sister.  The only reason I even noticed her wrinkles at all was because of the fact that she brought it up about three times a day.  We had a number of conversations like these:

Anne:  Look at these wrinkles on my forehead!!!  And the one on the bridge of my nose!!  Can you believe those!?!
Me:  Yes.  Yes I can.
Anne:  But you don't have any wrinkles!
Me:  Yes I do (smiling and pointing under my eyes).  See?
Anne:  Those don't count.
Me:  Well how does it happen that you're the one who gets to determine which wrinkles count and which don't?
*****
Anne:  You use different moisturizers on your face for day and night?
Me:   Uuuuum, yes.
Anne:  (Rolls eyes.)
*****
Anne:  (suspiciously) Why are you rubbing your eyes like that?
Me:  That's how I rub my eyes, Anne.
Anne:  See!!  You're totally trying to avoid wrinkles!!
*****
Anne:  I'm thinking of getting Botox.

Our sister Su is 4 years older than me (that's 3 years older than Anne, if you do the math.).  I'm not sure about her wrinkles.  Does she have any?  I think she does.  I don't really remember.  I try not to memorize people's wrinkles.  And we didn't have many wrinkle-centered conversations in the days I spent with her.

I think wrinkles are fine.  They're neat.  And mostly they're inevitable.  So who cares?  It's just your face.  And they're only skin deep.  Accept them and move along.

I've been realizing that I think I will have wrinkles above my upper lip. Does this delight me?  Not really but we age how we age.  I'm not going to try to smile less frequently to minimize those wrinkles.  (Or, actually, now that I've thought of it, I might.  I'll just claim I stopped being happy and nobody will be the wiser.  It will be my own little wrinkle-avoiding secret. Except never mind because Greg and the kids are way too funny for me to pretend to be sad through their jokes.  Forget that idea, self.)

So to Anne I say:  A lot can happen in 13 months.  By the time I'm the age Anne is now I may be far more wrinkled, even by her own standard, than she is now.  The next time I visit California and we look at our faces side by side in the mirror we may decide to go in for Botox together*.
*Not really.

For Those Days When You Wish You Were Renting

I know there are times when every home owner wishes they were renting.  This post is for those people.  The next time you find yourself replacing the air conditioning/water heater/driveway/whatever, think back to this post and remember: this will never happen to you.  And be grateful.

Here is what our new door looks like (in "bad" (good for me) weather/lighting).

Note the doormat, which does not say "DOMOWA"

You can also see the large "3" placed too high.  And crooked.  But we didn't expect much more of the guys who put the door in.  What really surprised us was the handle.

Now, I'm not saying that it's ugly (saying being the operative word, because that happens to be exactly what I'm thinking).  I'm only saying that I wonder who picked out this handle.  That's all I'm saying.

It's metal.  It's aaaaa....n interesting design.  And it's huge.  To put it in perspective let's compare it to a hand that uses it regularly.

Now, this hand, while certainly having proportionally larger proximal interphalangeal joints* than many other hands, is no smaller, in a general way, than regular-people hands.

It is a large and mysterious handle.  And if you own your home, you are unlikely for THAT to be the first thing that greets your friends and neighbors.  I mean, it wouldn't be if you didn't like it.  And that's why you should be happy you own your home.  THE reason. (Well, that and the option to hang your own house number properly.)

*Yes, I looked that joint thing up.  But see how smart I'm getting!?!  For those of you not in a position to smarten up at such an amazing rate as myself, you may refer to the joints as PIP joints.  The website I found it on says so.

Priests, Brownies, Doormats and Hellos

The priest came for his yearly visit to our house on Saturday.  Every year at Epiphany a priest goes house to house to sprinkle holy water and ask a blessing on the home, update church membership records, visit briefly and receive a little white envelope. A different priest comes every year, and this one was great.  In the past I would say that all of the priests were nice, some were very nice, and some civil-nice.  We've had a priest who repeatedly took the Lord's name in vain (but was quite merry and friendly) and one who interrupted Greg almost every single time he tried to say anything.  Greg's parents had one, one year, who asked if they minded if he smoked in their living room.  I think that was a few good years ago, though.  More recently we were at my in-laws for the visit when a priest asked his mother when she was finally going to give up smoking.  The priest who came this year had been to Salt Lake City and seen the world and was very open and asked a lot of questions.  It was very nice, but the conversation was kind of one-sided, with us doing the most talking (answering questions) before he had to go.  (note: we skip the holy water and the white envelope)

*************

Tonight, brownies after FHE will end our Week Without Sugar, which was actually a week without candy, chocolate and sweet baked treats.  I still allowed a little jam and the occasional yogurt and sweetened dried fruit like craisins.  It was very, very good, but it was also very hard for me.  I mean, I did it, and I was okay, but I often felt worn out (despite eating lots of good fruits and vegetables) and ate more than I should have because I always felt I needed something.  Yes, I am clearly addicted to sugar (shocker) and this was a very good experiment.  We are limiting sugar in our diets from now on (notably, taking the sugar out of breakfast most days) and I'm actually really excited.

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We went to get a new doormat and found two options.  One had two rows of large, earth-toned circles.  The other had "DOMOWA" written across it in enormous type.  This was a puzzlement for all of us.  I kept thinking and thinking and then I realized, "OH!!"  Domowa means "home", but only the adjective.  Dom means (and rhymes with) home.  Domowa means "home" as in "praca domowa" (homework) or "wojna domowa" (home war, translation: family feud).  You read it on the mat and think "Home what?"  I think this is another example of google translate fail.  We bought the colored circles, but I"m thinking about going back for the other one, as it would be a great conversation piece.  Plus it's silly.

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On one of my walks (I'm doing great with my resolutions!  Still!) I went past a home a few blocks away that has a lovely garden, now barren, which I peek in at thought the fence with my kids in the summer.  I've seen the older couple that lives there a few times but don't know them.  The man was outside on the sidewalk as I walked past, and instead of the half smile I usual throw at people, I actual vocalized a "dzien dobry" (good day).  I used the inflection that is kind of "all business" that mere acquaintances use (thinking this was already too much), where the first two syllables are pronounced low and the last one is pronounced in a higher tone.  He responded, going up on the MIDDLE syllable, which is how you say it when you are really happy to see someone.  For some reason this totally made my day.  I was expecting maybe a nod of the head, if anything.  I have clearly been living in Poland too long.  Or long enough?

Solving Yet Again

Am I the only one who's noticed that the joke's on us?  That the the term "resolution" comes from the root word "resolve", and that the word resolve* means RE-SOLVE, or in other words, to SOLVE AGAIN (don't check your dictionary, just take my word for it, please).  So at the beginning of a new year we all make lists of how to solve the same problems over again.  Because we failed last year.  Obviously.  New Years Try Again, Losers (and fail again, too!) might be a more fitting term.

But whatever.

I've been inspired by so many of my friends who've made lists and really enjoyed reading them, so I will post my own to look back on next year, before I type them up again at the beginning of next January.  So here is my list of problems to try solving again:

GET SMART:
I'm getting tired of being dumbish.  I've always wanted to know more stuff, but always been too lazy to learn it (I just want to know it, please).  This year
I will:
* study scriptures NOT for a few minutes before I fall asleep, but in the morning when I'm not half asleep.  This might be easier because we've already started being ready for school early and spending that last ten minutes or so before Greg takes the kids to school sitting together in a quiet living room, each doing our personal scripture study.  I LOVE this.
* Do more than a quick scan of Wikipedia when I want to know about something.  I do that far too often.  I  will research subjects that interest me in more detail.  I will also learn more about things that other people know/think they know so I can be better informed.
* Read fewer status updates/comments and more non-social-type writings.
* Learn how to do things.  On the computer/phone, playing basic hymns on the piano and maybe the ukulele if Evie ever gets off long enough for me to learn.  Etc.

STOP BAKING SO MUCH:
I always think it's so funny when people tell me that the wished they baked more.
I will:
Bake dessert no more than twice, and a sweet breakfast (muffins/scones) only once, per week.  I've made this resolution before and only lasted for a few weeks.  I will do better.

MOVE MORE:
I don't sit down very much, but I also spend very little time making my heart pump rapidly.
I will:
Get out on my own or with Greg and walk fast at least 15 minutes a day (preferably 30+) after the kids get home and we've chatted over their lunch.  I am exempt on days when the blizzard is so fierce that a person cannot move in any direction.  Or when there is a flood, fire, tornado or hurricane.  Or earthquake.

TEACH MY KIDS MORE:
I've been getting better at this, but ohmygosh I have a long way to go.
I will:
Teach Aaron the alphabet/reading basics, whether he wants to learn or not.
Talk to Aaron and Spence more about things as we go along.
Start more discussions with Ev and Dave.  Have more gospel-centered conversations.

EXPRESS MY OPINION LESS OFTEN:
for Pete's sake.
I will:
On facebook.  Even when people say dumb or offensive things.
And in real life.  I'll stop myself when I feel a room going quiet and realize that I'm expressing my opinion about something as if it is the Holy Truth.  (although I still call some of those things holy truth.  Like how Poles should not pee in plain sight on the side of the road. :)
On my blog, however, I will write whatever I want.

BE MORE EASY GOING:
I will:
Stop acting like everything matters so much.
Smile more.
Forgive more easily.
Let other people decide things more often.
Never lose my temper.

Well, that oughtta do it!  Wish me luck!!
*and to those who are saying, "doesn't resolution come from resolute?" I say, "Don't sass me."

I Hope I Don't Die

Oh my, it's been a wonderful week or two.  Everything this week of the year should be.  I hope yours was too!

And now it's time to put away the things of last year, and last week.  Like the 5 pies, dozens of peanut butter chocolate chip cookies, mint brownies, toffee, fudge, shortbread cookies (not my idea), meringues and so on.

In an attempt to be a tiny little fraction as cool as the Ken Craig family (read him if you don't.  You must.) I am taking my own family off of sugar to start off the year.  His family goes off for the entire month of January and I'm taking mine off for the entire first week.  Minus the first two days because there are still treats in the house and we need dessert after FHE.  But THEN.  Then, I tell you, we're off sugar for the first time in EVER.  For seven days.

I am not sure if I will survive so I am writing this post as a kind of farewell, just in case.  I'm also considering posting something every day so I have something to live for.  Muuuuust wriiiiiiiite pooooooost.  Like that.  Because I doubt that things like feeding children so they don't starve and making sure no catastrophe hits here at home will be enough motivation for me with no sugar to push me along.