The Armpit Of Your Life

"Adolescence is a period of rapid changes. Between the ages of 12 and 17, for example, a parent ages as much as 20 years." 

Junior High is the armpit of your life. We warn all of our children of this fact before entering seventh grade. When they come home from school complaining about mean and awkward peers, I simply give them that look, and they say, "Oh yeah, you warned me. This is the armpit of my life." I remind them that it gets better in high school, but I should now warn them that the pittiness of adolescence doesn't begin waning until after Driver's Education. Yes, good ol' driver's education. Show me a person who says they relished their drive's ed. experience, and I'll show you a liar. I have been telling Sabrina that it is a cross we all must bear at some point in our young lives.

I remember my driver's ed. teachers. I remember them well. In my day, you had one teacher for classroom instruction, and another teacher for driving instruction. My classroom instructor was named... and I kid you not... Uncle Gerry. I'm sorry, but if my daughter walked into class and her instructor told her to call him Uncle Gerry, I'd have her transferred out of the class before he could begin taking role. But it was the 80's. All driver's ed. teachers were coaches, and all driver's ed. teachers were perverts. It was common knowledge. My mom learned to drive during the mini skirt era of the late 1960's. Her driver's ed. coach grabbed her knee and sometimes lower thigh on more than one occasion. You just dealt with it back then. 

But I digress. I don't remember Uncle Gerry pulling any monkey business. But he was weird. It came time for us all to take our written test. The day before the exam, Uncle Gerry went to the chalkboard and said, "Pay attention class. Number one, the answer is C. Number two, the answer is A. And so on, until he had given us every answer to the written driving exam." When my kids question why I don't know how many feet you can park before a stop sign, I remind them that I had Uncle Gerry for driver's education.

It was my driving instructor who I loathed. Coach Burnside was his name. I promise I'm not making up these names. He was the baseball coach if I remember right. He had red curly hair and a red mustache and a high-pitched voice that you could always here echoing across the driving range as he would verbally abuse us poor students. If there was an armpit experience of my high school life, it was driving the range with Coach Burnside. He would stand out there in his short polyester athletic shorts and do his calisthenics while screaming, "Do you call that parallel parking? You failed! Do you hear me? You failed!" That is a direct quote pointed at none other than your's truly. My sixteen year old self sat in the car and sobbed. He was a wretched man. One day, when I was doing some on-the-road practicing, Coach Burnside made me drive all the way up by Highland High School so that he could walk into some sports retailer and get an autographed photo of his favorite body-builder. I remember thinking even then, "You sir, are the armpit of humanity." But I suppose something must be done with those washed-up jocks of yesteryear. The school system created them. I suppose the school system must harbor them for eternity, because heaven knows, nobody else wants them. Now lest I create new enemies. Not all athletes are jocks, and not all jocks are jerks. Driver's Education just seems to be a place where a plethora of such individuals are stored.

Sabrina's driving coach is not nearly as bad as mine was. But he did inform her last week that there were some things that she needed to work on, because he would have had to dock her points if this had been her driving test. Sabrina, not very different from the sobbing sixteen year old I told you about earlier, equated that statement to mean, "You will fail your driving test next week!" And she came home and cried a little. 

Sabrina and I spent a good chunk of Monday night practicing smoother steering. In the dark of night, we circled a neighborhood twenty times. I'm surprised we weren't arrested for stalking. After 35 right hand turns, Sabrina was getting more confident, and I wasn't clinging to the handle above the passengers window quite so tightly as when we started. Yesterday was the day of the exam, and she was still in a panic over not being prepared. I checked her out of school a little early and we went over to a hilly neighborhood where she practiced uphill and downhill parking. I was no help to her in this arena. After 24 years, I still can't park. I'm wondering if while I was still in utero, Mom drank a few too many Dr. Peppers while the spatial reasoning portion of my brain was forming. Sabrina parked much better on that hill than I ever could have. Then we moved into another neighborhood, where she practiced about a dozen u-turns. I told her that if she could safely maneuver a u-turn in a mini van then her driving test would be a piece of cake. By the end, she was flipping that van with a little too much confidence. I told her, "Good job, now let's go back to keeping all four wheels on the road at the same time, shall we."

Here she is before her driving test and after the prayer we had together asking the Lord to calm her nerves and bless her to drive well.

I went home and prayed some more, and then uttered a prayer of gratitude when I received the ecstatic text that she had passed! Two kids down. Two to go. Sabrina walks with a little skip in her step now. She is stepping out of the armpit of her life. The air is becoming a little fresher. The light at the end of that dark tunnel of adolescence is getting bigger and brighter. Go to the light Sabrina. Go to the light.

Ryan and Alicia's Week of Happiness - Part One

"All the time we wondered and wondered, who is this person coming/growing/turning/floating/swimming deep, deep inside." -Crescent Dragonwagon

We dubbed the second week in October "Ryan & Alicia's Week of Happiness". And since their happiness is our happiness, it was a pretty happy week for everyone. The celebrating began with a baby shower. Angie and Alicia are the party planners of the family. They throw splendid little affairs with just the right decorative touches and the tastiest spreads you'll ever see or eat. But since this little shindig was in Alicia's honor, she couldn't exactly plan her own shower. So poor Angie was left with my help, which is little help at all. I did offer a clean house. I had a feeling that many of the guests would want a tour of my new home. This put a large hole in my normal hosting/cleaning strategy, which is to clean the main entertainment area by throwing all crap into the bedrooms and office, then scrubbing one bathroom, while shutting the doors of every other room in the house and sealing them off with police tape. Preparing for this evening was a little more labor intensive. But now that everyone has seen the house, I can go back to my old slouchy ways. 

We were approaching zero hour, and nothing was ready. But the sister and mother cavalry came to the rescue. Thanks to GPS still thinking my house is a corn field, thus sending all of the guests to Hill Airforce Base, everyone arrived just late enough that all of the food was beautifully placed, and a pleasant evening could now unfold unhindered. And a pleasant evening it was.

 

If I could go back into time this very moment and redevour all that food, I would do it in a heartbeat!

The guest of honor. There's nothing quite like a glowing Mom-To-Be.

The guests began to arrive, and the place was abuzz with laughter and humming with "catching up" conversations. What a delight to have the place filled with aunts and cousins and sisters and sisters-in-law and coworkers. We don't see many of these people often enough.

It occurred to me this evening that the coming of a new life into a family, brings together those old lives. The gathering of family to welcome a new little spirit is truly one of the most beautiful things. If there is any question, this baby will be loved!

After our bellies were beyond full, we waddled over to our seats to watch the unwrapping of all things baby. Booties, and sleepers, and quilts, and soft blankets, and ruffly dresses, and monitors, and onesies. 

This baby will have to be a dancer like her momma.

Grandma Rosemary always sends the most beautiful quilts, hand-stitched with love.

  This darling hand-knitted kitty might be my favorite item of the evening.

Now little Margot can come. We are all anxiously waiting for her arrival. There's plenty of love to go around. We just can't wait to see her in one of these darling sleepers. We just can't wait to start fighting over snuggling this sweet baby!

Yes Please!

"There is nothing more difficult than talking about music." -Camille Saint-Saens

Generally we like to escape to the south during fall break, but there was too much to keep us home this year. Namely Alicia and Ryan's Week of Happiness (more about that later) and the four college girls that decided to camp out in our living room for the first half of the break. There were no cute boys for said college girls to flirt with until all hours of the night, so they fell asleep at midnight and didn't budge until 10:30 the next morning when I started whipping up the cream for Swedish pancakes. 

I enjoyed having Jess and her roomies in my home. I felt comfort in walking into my front room to see them all sprawled out on my couches and floor, in that deep sleep that only overworked and overplayed college students can attain. It was nice to have them safe and sound under my roof. Mom talks about how she climbs into bed at night and thinks about all of her grown children in their various homes across the state and sometimes across the world, and she longs for the day that they could all be safely accounted for within her walls, and she utters a desperate mother's prayer for their safety. I get it now. I get it. For one blessed night, they were all nestled safely within my walls, and I was calm and happy. After scraping the whipped cream off their plates, those college roomies were out the door to Park City for a homework and cello free weekend. I reminded them to be safe as they rushed out the door. Sigh. And the praying resumes. 

By Saturday, I realized that Neil and I had spent little time with our remaining offspring who still reside within these walls. After some Cafe Rio, we were off to Salt Lake for a "better-late-than-never" Fall Break venture. Jessica had texted that we had to try out this cool bookstore, so we did. I was delighted to find out that we were actually entering the old Sam Weller Bookstore, now Eborn Books. A little different type of bookstore but the same great old building with floor to ceiling to basement books, books, books. When the store was still Sam Weller's, I seem to remember a delightful afternoon with Angie exploring the nooks and crannies of this bibliophile's dream land.

This store is all used books. All five of us scattered and reconvened about an hour and a half later. I had at one time been holding three books, ready for purchase, but by the end of the evening came up empty handed. It tends to be the case with me. Either I walk up to the register with twenty books that I simply must have, or I walk up shrugging my shoulders. Nope of all the trillions of books in this building, not a one felt like it needed to come home with me. Neil, the non-reader, had about four books in his hand but whittled it down to one, a history of the missions in Finland from 1947 to 1997. He even found our names in the book. I told him that that book needed to come home with us. All the others could be found on any used book internet sight, but this one was unique. 

On our way out, Neil had something to show us. He had a smug look on his face as he said, "Lest you think I never look up from my hobbitcom and notice the world." (Not that I ever accuse him of such a thing) As we rounded the corner, he pointed to this wall. And all of the children gasped.

It was a good wall. Perhaps the best wall in Salt Lake according to our delighted children. Neil wins! I'm usually glad when we send him off to find a parking space. We proceeded to have a ten minute photo shoot with our wall. Sabrina insists that we have to come back here for her senior photos.

We were now running out of time, for we had a concert to attend. It was off to the tabernacle for The Orchestra at Temple Square's 15th Anniversary Concert. We had extra tickets, so we handed them to the usher controlling the line of anxious stand-byers. I know what it's like standing in that line, wondering if you're going to walk away having wasted your entire evening. At least it wasn't 30 degrees outside. Hopefully we made someone's night.

We found one of our regular seats on the balcony where the kids could get a nice view of the piano and the violinists. Usually we're on the other side, because Jessica insists on having a perfect view of the cellists. But Jessica was partying it up in Park City, so Sabrina won out this night.

I feel at home in this lovely concert hall. The benches are uncomfortable, but the acoustics are amazing. I feel like I'm in the land of my people here. People who appreciate the best music.

We spend a lot of time waiting for these concerts since their is no reserved seating, so Sabrina came prepared.

The girl is obsessed with Dickens. She found that charming collection of his short stories at the bookstore.

Sabrina insists that she was born in the wrong century. I felt that way at her age as well. I was sure that somehow I had been rudely plucked from Victorian Age England and plopped into 1980's America. Sabrina and I are kindred spirits that way. Yes, the child carries a pocket watch.

Finally the concert began. The first piece was Tchaikovsky's Concerto No. 1 for piano, with George Li as the guest pianist. The guy looked like he was seventeen years old, but man could he command those ivories. It kills me that when I talk about these pieces that probably not a soul reading this even knows what I'm talking about. So here is a youtube clip of Tchaikovsky's piano concerto. If you're feeling extra stuffy, you can sit and enjoy the full 36 minute piece, but if not, just give it a listen for a good 3 minutes to catch the gist of this breath-taking piece of music. This is not the Asian that we were listening to. This is Lang Lang. He is quite the superstar in the piano world. We probably couldn't afford tickets to one of his concerts. I'll have to ask Jess what she thinks of the conductor's minimalist approach in this particular version. Maybe a little Barenboimesque.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_W1_shm7vdE

But our performer was amazing in his own right, wiping the sweat from his face in between movements. When I listen to and watch these soloists, I am confounded by the thought that anyone could be that incredible at anything.  

After intermission, we were graced by Symphony No. 3 by Camille Saint-Saens. I have only come to truly appreciate Saint-Saens since my children have been involved in music. He was a gifted composer, and he was French, so that makes him extra special. This piece is also known as the "Organ Symphony". I can't think of a more perfect place for an organ symphony than in this grand concert hall with these magnificent pipes.

The organist was none other than the Mormon Tabernacle Choir's own Clay Christiansen. Here is a clip of the finale of this great symphony, but of course a recording does it no justice. You must be sitting in the tabernacle and feel the bench beneath you vibrating as the organ pipes belt out those beautiful notes to truly appreciate this piece. You must watch the symphony as the individual members move and breathe with the music creating a living breathing thing that's movement reminds me of the tide coming in and out. You must be in the room as the sound fills the space and descends upon the whole enraptured crowd.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eW-7S9fjyfU

I feel the Spirit in church worship meetings. But I also feel the Spirit during these symphonies. I am touched by the Spirit in the temple and in places of worship. But I also feel the Spirit in concert halls as I listen to some of the most beautiful music ever written by men who were truly inspired by that Spirit I speak of. As I sat in that room being moved to near tears, I was sure that God loves music. Or else why would He have this great building, and these gorgeous pipes, and this orchestra, and those hundreds of voices in His choir? Yes, I am convinced that God is a lover of great music, which is why He blesses many with the gift of music. How grateful I am that those who have the gift are willing to cultivate it and share it with the world. For those of us who bear only the gift to appreciate great music feel close to Deity every time we are touched by its melodic notes.

Forgive me for devoting so much of my blog to detailed descriptions of my symphony experiences. But if the rest of the world can blog about their latest marathons, then I feel that I can blog about my latest concert. If people can talk about at which mile the leg cramps kicked in and at what point their nipples began to bleed, then surely I can discuss which movement moved me to tears, and which piece left a burning in my chest so great that I could only alleviate it by standing in ovation with the rest of my fellow music lovers. 

Barenboim seems to describe it best in this short segment.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LCKZDSIHV80

If nothing else, I know that there is one reader who normally sits with us at every one of these concerts and couldn't this night as she was making the trek back to Logan. This reader will probably watch the above youtube videos in their entirety and will probably be purring in her seat at the Fine Arts Center. This reader knows what I am talking about when I discuss that elevation of the soul. This reader is also my kindred spirit. And I miss her. 

We finished the night with a visit to our favorite Patisserie, which happens to be open until 11:00. Apparently it is all of Salt Lake City's favorite patisserie, because it took us about a half an hour to order five pastries to go. 

German chocolate cake at 10:30 at night? Yes Please!

Books, Music, Confections with my family. Yes Please! Any day of the week!

Cousins!

"A grandparent's house is where cousins become best friends." 

I got hit with a yucky virus this week. It never fails. My house was all clean after the weekend, so I vowed that I would do nothing but scrapbook the whole three days before fall break. Instead, I've spent the week confined to my sick bed. When I get a virus, it is usually accompanied by a cold sore the size of Milwaukee. Now I haven't actually been to Milwaukee, but if it is anywhere near the size of this growth protruding from my top lip, then it must be one gigantic city. Rather than troubling the outside world with my Quasimodo face or my icky virus, I'm hunkering down here in what was once my clean house. 

But I am remembering a fun weekend. I have fond memories of Sunday nights at Grandma and Grandpa's house. Those carefree evenings playing No Bears Are Out Tonight or doing death jumps off Grandpa's back deck with my cousins were good times. 

It thrills me that our kids are just as close to their cousins. Sunday night at Mor Mor's house is where this little band of buddies forge their friendships. But currently Mor Mor's house is under renovation, so we invited everyone over to our house for root beer floats and Sunday visits this week. There was a hum about the house, a happy hum. At times the hum transformed into a roar as the boys engaged in imaginary battles. As the declaration of, "ROOT BEER FLOATS ARE READY!" rang through the house, little bodies emerged from separate corners of the home and convened at this table where I was able to capture this priceless photo of them and all their cuteness in its regular Sunday night splendor. These Sunday nights at Mor Mor's house will make up the very fibers of their young lives and will hopefully be the nurturing grounds for lifelong friendships.

Absent-But Where I Need To Be

I've been absent for a few days. The weekend has been jam-packed with family time. A large and delightful baby shower for Alicia on Friday. Jonah's last soccer game, Sabrina's fun on the driving range, a family movie at the theaters to see Meet The Mormons, and a date with my hubby, on Saturday. Stake Conference, a family dinner with Neil's family, followed by visiting and root beer floats with my family last night. It really was my favorite way to spend a weekend. No house or yard projects! By the way, if you look ever-so-closely, you can see tiny blades of grass coming up in the backyard. There may still be hope for a yard next summer. I'm not sure how well I can say I've done with my whole blogging for thirty days in a row goal. But as I sat in Stake Conference yesterday, with the Spirit working on me, as He usually does during such meetings, which is why I go, I felt a deep desire to place the Lord and His work first in my life. That just hasn't been happening as of late. 

I felt myself putting the people I love most first this weekend, and it was fulfilling. If I can put the Lord right up there with my family, I am convinced that I will find myself content with life. I think of the words of my dying father over twenty years ago as he counseled a discouraged daughter. "Immerse yourself in the gospel, and everything else will fall into place." The truthfulness of that statement reached to my very core and has lingered with me ever since. I have experimented with this philosophy over the years and have been blessed every time. Why I can't seem to keep the proper priorities in place on a consistent basis is beyond me. I suppose I can chalk it up to the very mortalness of my nature. That's why I go to church every week. So that the Lord can work on me through the whisperings of the Holy Ghost. So that I can be motivated once again to shake off these mortal tendencies and to become as God would have me be. I live far below my privileges far too often. 

I am really loving this consistent blogging. I plan to continue it. But if I only have time for blogging or scripture study, or blogging or temple attendance, or blogging or serving those around me, I hope I might choose the better part. And as I put the Lord first, this little hobby that I enjoy so much will fall into its proper place. I'm quite sure of it:)

Tolkien Or Nothing!

"Thank you for sending me a copy of your book; I'll waste no time reading it." -Moses Hadas

Reading is the thorn in Jonah's side. It is difficult for him. He is his father's child. He is a number's boy, not a word boy. He has been below grade level on reading fluency since the beginning. He reads. He doesn't read fluently according to the dreaded Dibels test. Remember back in our day when it didn't matter how fast you read? Remember back when you didn't have to go out in the hall with some stranger and a stop watch and prove your worth by reading out loud The Boxcar Children in record time with less than three errors? Remember when you could pick up a book, any book, and just read? Those were the days. But gone are those days.

Jonah will only read one author, and that is J.R.R. Tolkien. This is a wonderful thing really except that The Fellowship of the Ring is far beyond his reading level. He carries around the Lord of the Rings collection with him at all times. He carried it into his SEP conference, and his teacher looked at that monstrosity of a book and asked in the most gingerly of ways, "Tell me why Jonah, you choose such a big advanced book to read?" He explained that ever since he saw The Lord of the Rings movies, he's been interested in all things Tolkien. Miss Spencer said that she was thrilled that he had such a passion but recommended that he split up his time between that book and a book more on his reading level. She said that reading a book on his level would help his fluency. Jonah smiled and nodded.

Oh, but make no mistake here. Jonah had no intention of reading any other book. This is not the first time we've gone the rounds on this topic, but we went another round last night just for good measure. A knock down drag out fight is good for the mind and body. It causes one's  adrenaline and heart rate to rise. It enlivens the senses and adds variety to what might otherwise have been a dull evening. At least this seems to be Jonah's take on the matter.

So I dragged that book out of my closet that I bought him for Christmas. That book that looks so intriguing. All about these children who get abducted not only from another place but another time in history. And these children happen to coincide with real ill-fated children from history. The main character is even named Jonah. (Jonah was far from impressed). This particular book seems to be all about poor little Alexis Romanov. But Jonah would have none of it. I bribed him with a new Lego set. I threatened him with no play dates with his favorite cousins. I man-handled him onto the couch. I pulled out my own book on the Romanovs and showed him a picture of the actual boy in his sailor suit and dramatically explained to him the tragic story of Alexei Romanov. Jonah looked at me as if to say, "At least poor Alexei wasn't forced to read a book he didn't want to." I think he would have been relieved if some Bolsheviks had ransacked our house at that very moment and spared him the misery of reading this horrid piece of literature.  

I opened his big fat Tolkien book and said, "See this. This is called laborious reading for a sixth grader. See this word, not even I know the meaning of this word. See Jonah, your mom needs a dictionary to read this book."

Then I opened this other book and said, "See this. This is normal sixth grader reading. See how few words there are on this page? See how you know the meaning of every word on this page?"

But what do I know? Apparently I'm an idiot. And apparently so is his teacher who sits with thirty years of experience under her belt. And apparently so is his father and anyone else who dares argue with this obstinate eleven year old. 

It's nothing but fun and games over here in the Watson household. I always say the Lord knew I was done having kids so he sent me a humdinger at the end. Rest assured, there are no over-inflated parent egos in this house. In fact, deflated may be the predominant adjective in these parts. 

In the end, I got Jonah to read three pages from this book, while I read the other seven. I suppose you could call that a win for the parents, but not really. He threw the book on the floor when we were done and basically called it the devil himself. Tonight will go smoothly because we'll be reading what he wants to read. Sometimes I wonder if Dibels, and STAR, and ACT's, and SAT's are really just harming and not helping. All I know is that whenever I get home from an SEP conference with my knickers in a knot over Dibels and WPM, Jonah ends up in tears and determined never to open another book again. And when I ask Jonah to go grab his Tolkien book, he skips off and comes back and snuggles up with me and begins his labored but happy reading. Sometimes I just throw my hands in the air and say, "To heck with it. Read what makes you want to read, Jonah."  And other times we have the knock down drag out fight. At least I get my heart rate up those nights.

The child may not be a fast reader, but he is a master arguer. Maybe I should encourage him to go into law...no, too much reading. Unless...do you think Tolkien wrote any books on law? I'll look into it.

For now I have a book about Alexandra Romanov to devour.

My Favorite Things - My Camera

"The camera makes you forget you're there. It's not like you are hiding but you forget, you are just looking so much." 

-Annie Leibovitz

This will have to be a quick post. I have a lot to do today. Their is a much anticipated baby shower coming up, and it will be at the home of your's truly, that is if I can get it together and make it look like civilized people live within these walls. Well, I'm definitely not a type A personality. Which is the least productive of the personalities? Is there such thing as a type Z personality? I think I'm a type Z personality.

Type Z personalities shouldn't keep putting things on their plates like I do. The newest item on my plate is play rehearsals for Spence and Sabrina. They auditioned to be in the Christmas Carol production at the local playhouse and both made it! I am thrilled for both of them but especially for Sabrina. She has got the most beautiful singing voice and is just overflowing with personality, but has yet to make it into any kind of musical. This would not be nearly so frustrating except for the fact that her brother makes it into every musical because he's a boy... who can sing, dance, and act. Such a combination is so rare, especially among young adolescents, that every director he comes across kisses his feet and blesses his name before casting him as a lead. Poor Sabrina seems to get lost in the absolute plethora of budding female performers. 

So I am thrilled that they both get this opportunity, especially because Dickens' beloved classic is such a part of Christmas for our family. I'm back to living in my van, but can't wait to hear their stories of the theater life and can't wait to watch them perform.

But I digress. My Favorite Things. One of my most favorite things is my camera. I received my first camera on my twelfth birthday and have basically always had one on my person since then. I have a deep desire to document life both in words and in images. I have always appreciated a beautiful photograph. I knew when I liked a picture but could never quite pinpoint why, so I began to study a little photography. I learned about composition and lighting. Soon a good photograph became intentional where as before it had mostly been accidental. During the peak of my photographic education, I began to do photos for other people for pay. It was not long before I realized that this was an industry that was taking off. Every stay-at-home mom with a decent camera was becoming a photographer. I had neither the time nor the desire to compete.

These days I just like to take a good picture of those closest to me. And sometimes take a mediocre picture of those closest to me. And sometimes even take a crappy picture of the ones I love. I don't ever regret the photos I take of this beautiful family of mine. I love capturing fleeting moments that I can never get back again. It's almost like I get that moment back as I look at the photographs. As time passes steadily, the photos become more precious. 

This Canon goes with me everywhere. He's heavy, but he takes good pictures, especially in low light. I just can't get myself to follow that trend of documenting all of my life through my smartphone. Me and my Canon just make too good of a team, and I can't imagine seeing life any other way than through his lens. 

Family Home Evening - It's Inspired

"We advise and urge the inauguration of Home Evening throughout the Church, at which time fathers and mothers may gather their boys and girls about them in the home, and teach them the words of God...If the Saints obey this counsel, we promise that great blessings will result. Love at home and obedience to parents will increase, faith will be developed in the hearts of the youth of Israel, and they will gain power to combat the evil influences and temptations which beset them." 

-President Joseph F. Smith & The First Presidency of the Church 1915

I know the above statement is true. Family Home Evening is a divinely inspired principle that was instituted almost exactly one hundred years ago. It was instituted in a time that it was probably fairly easy to gather one's family. I believe that this sacred family time is needed in this day more than any other day, which is probably why it is so challenging to chisel out that time for one hour on a Monday night to gather as a family and enjoy one another's company while learning gospel truths.

But I was determined last night. Jonah gets out early all week for parent teacher conferences, so we did his reading shortly after he got home from school. As the other two got home, I informed them that I was determined to have some family time this evening so there would be no lallygagging as far as homework and practicing went. Neil and I went to parent teacher conference with Jonah and had a very lengthy and very helpful conversation with his teacher whom I adore. It was worth moving our whole family just for Jonah to have this one remarkable teacher.

But this got us home late. I hurried and began dinner while Neil wrestled with the sprinkling system some more. He will forever be wrestling with that dang sprinkling system. As I put dinner in the oven, I pushed Neil and Sabrina out the door to practice driving. I told them they had exactly twenty minutes. In the meantime, I whipped up some sugar cookie dough and set the table.

The drivers got home, we ate dinner, I began rolling out cookies and whipping frosting while Jonah bounced between his math homework and helping me cut cookies. The child can't be left out of anything. Homework was done, dinner was done, cookies were done, breathe, breathe, it's 8:00, quick everyone upstairs for family home evening!

It is killing me that we missed so much General Conference last weekend, so we went back to enjoy a couple of talks that we missed. This gave the kids an opportunity to play the Conference Bingo that they missed yesterday. I don't think my kids will ever outgrow Conference Bingo. I'll be pulling the cards out when they're 25. 

We listened to Elder Holland's talk and Pres. Uchtdorf's talk. I love these two men so much! I come away from their talks so inspired to be better, to live better, to love better. They are truly men of God delivering messages that God would have us hear. Here is the link to Holland's talk. Words that every single one of us should hear as we are all brothers and sisters struggling through this life together.

https://www.lds.org/general-conference/watch/2014/10?lang=eng&vid=3821264213001&cid=10

The children were riveted. The bingo cards were full, though I believe a little fudging may have transpired. 

We finished the night by beginning our spooky read for the season. The kids have been begging me to read something spooky as a family for Halloween. We argued back and forth over what the book should be. Frankenstein? Poe's Works? Dracula? Sabrina finally won out. She has been dying for us to read a Sherlock Holmes Mystery as a family.  We figured that would be fun and not instill as many nightmares as say The Cask of Amontillado or The Tell Tale Heart. But don't worry, Mr. Poe will get his turn eventually. We turned out the lights, turned on our bat lantern and creepy Halloween village, and I read by flashlight for effect. One chapter, and I think we're all hooked. 

By now it was 9:30. To bed with all of you! Phew! We did it. One very successful family night, and one very tired mom. But there was still frosting and cookie trays to clean up. I pray that those blessings connected with the principle of Family Home Evening, promised by a prophet one hundred years ago, will make their way into this home and to this family. Because do we ever need those blessings.

I will do you all a generous favor and leave you with the best darn frosting recipe you'll ever try. I received this recipe from my sister-in-law, Natalie, probably 15 years ago, and I thank her for the favor every time I make myself sick off it. This recipe will make enough for about three dozen sugar cookies or two dozen cupcakes, depending on how generously you pipe that goodness on. It will also decorate an average 9 x 13 size cake. It is the perfect consistency for piping and tastes like heaven on earth. Enjoy! Those cookies on the left will remain unfrosted because none of my children like frosting. I thought my blood ran through their veins, but maybe not.

Best Butter Cream Frosting Ever

1/2 Cup Butter

1/2 Cup Vegetable Shortening

4 Cups  Powdered Sugar

1/4 Teaspoon Salt

1/2 Teaspoon Clear Vanilla Extract(Found at Michaels in cake decorating section)

1/2 Teaspoon Almond Extract (My own added touch. Because almond extract makes everything better.)

1/4 Cup Whipping Cream (Not Whipped)

Cream shortening and butter until fluffy.

Add sugar and continue creaming until well blended.

Add salt and vanilla and almond extract and cream, blend on low until moistened, then high until nice and fluffy.

Slather that yummy stuff all over your baked goods and eat it straight from the bowl if you like. Not that I ever do that:)

Perfectly Picturesque

"Bittersweet October. The mellow, messy, leaf-kicking, perfect pause between the opposing miseries of summer and winter." -Carol Bishop Hipps

It's been fourteen years, and we're still going strong with our Annual Fall General Conference Watson Family Picnic And Official Beholding Of The Changing Of The Leaves. Um, I just barely made that up, but I like it so don't be surprised if this becomes the official  title of our beloved tradition. I'm not prepared to have any member of the family missing from this event yet, even if my firstborn decided to fly the nest this year. We've never seen Logan Canyon in the fall. This was the perfect year for such a venture, and we could pick Jess up on the way.

This looks like a fairly sparse picnic indeed. Believe it or not, we did all get enough to eat. We were unaware that all of Logan Canyon is a national forest, and we're too cheap to pay $10.00 to enjoy a one hour picnic, so Jessica pointed out this, her favorite little spot by the river. Good thing we brought a blanket.

A young man can't find himself planted in front of a river and not take the opportunity to skip a rock or two.

Nor can he pass on the chance to climb a tree.

We parked just outside of the fee area, and walked in to take some fall photos. This is my annual remembering how much I love these children and sighing at how much they are growing moment.

It seems to work out every year. I remind the children before our picnic that I will be taking photos so don't pick your most hideous outfit, and they all come out of their respective bedrooms not clashing. It's magical for me. Even the college student seemed to get some sort of subliminal message as to what she should wear. The impromptu photo shoots are always the best kind.

And then I let them loose. These goofballs start really being themselves, and I just snap away. Yup, these are my favorite photos.

Then we simmer down and get serious again. This may be the only actual family photo we get all year, so we try to make it count.

This is the five layers that I made Neil shed before taking said photo. For the love of Pete, it was all of 70 degrees out there yesterday. I also made him remove his beanie.

The handsome men in my life.

A mom and her daughters.

Sisters.

They insisted on this photo because this is really how they always look when they are together.

The love of my life. I'm glad we made this beautiful family together.

The Master Photo Bomber! This girl is going to make me pee my pants one of these days.

This is Jonah's Annual I Haven't Had A Good Pout Fest As Of Late moment. He tries to get at least one in at every family event.

The Bigfoot Pose. Another Sabrina Especial.

Everyone else wanted a piece of the action.

A contrived tender moment, brought to you by the most dramatic of the foursome.

These two always try to get a perfect clicking of the heels shot. They can never get it in unison.

I guess that's as good as it gets.

Jessica fetching Jonah from another pouty moment. I miss having this girl around.

And I will leave you with this last cheesy staged moment.

We got less actual General Conference than we usually do this year, but some much needed family time. The drive home through Sardine Canyon was perfectly picturesque. The mountains were all aflame with deep reds, oranges, and yellows, and a spattering of evergreens for contrast. Lovely Day. Lovely lovely day.