from the SIII

 

Story of my Life

While I was reading this interesting article about how you never truly leave high school (which presents myriad topics of discussion, should you read it all), I found this gem:

"It’s also abundantly, poignantly clear that during puberty, kids have absolutely no clue how to assess character or read the behavior of others. In 2005, the sociologist Koji Ueno looked at one of the largest samples of adolescents in the United States, and found that only 37 percent of their friendships were reciprocal—meaning that when respondents were asked to name their closest friends, the results were mutual only 37 percent of the time. One could argue that this heartbreaking statistic is just further proof that high school is a time of unrequited longings. But these statistics also suggest that teenagers cannot tell when they are being rejected (Hey, guys, wait for me!) or even accepted (I thought you hated me). So much of what they think they know about others’ opinions of them is plain wrong."

Story. of. my. life.

I say that because, as I've blogged before, I either had no 'best' friends in high school or the ones I considered my best friends apparently didn't return the favor.  Or, they quickly moved on in the following years.  It's all good.  I just still live here in my hometown, and so I still hear/see/run into said friends, and I still wonder which scenario it is.

If you do read the article, come back and talk to me about it, bitte!  I'd love hear some opinions.

up and down

I s'pose I should sit and write for a bit.

Life's been a roller coaster around here lately, with homecomings and funerals and family stuff and a temple trip (sans recommend - oops) and lots of driving (backseat barfing included, this time by MG) and internet discoursing and, of course, Eastering.  Don't worry, I only cried three times.

Sunday we visited Brigham City for the first time that I can remember.  It was pretty fun to see Slice's old "stomping grounds" (he mocks me EVERY TIME I say that about So. Jordan) and to talk to people who haven't seen him in over a decade.

The drive home wasn't so fun, what with MG screaming and Liam whining and the road stretching for almost four hours.  I sat in back with the kids for the last 1.5 of them.

Praise the heavens for modern technology on long car trips.

Monday was recovery day, and Tuesday I played piano at the funeral of a beautiful 18-year-old girl in our ward who was found at the bottom of a cliff last week....
It's been a rough time in this town, I'll tell you that.

I just hug my own beautiful girl tighter every day, and hope she knows how loved she is.

Incidentally, I never imagined in my younger days that I was learning music mainly to provide it at funerals.  I've been asked/volunteered to sing, lead or play at so many funerals in the last five years I can't even count them all.  Just one more reason why music is better than sports ..... ha.

I'm happy to serve, I really am.  It's good for my life perspective.

We've been

On the phone too much, apparently.  Had to document this because I can count on one hand the number of times this boy has fallen asleep somewhere OTHER than his bed or carseat.

Teaching the photography belt loop to my cub scouts for the third time, which means I've been in scouts too long already.  New calling please?
(These boys are just too much fun.)

Reading.  You guys, all MG wants to do is read books.  All. Day. Long.   If I sit down for a second she finds a book and brings it to me, and how can I say no?!
This makes me crazy and crazy proud at the same time.  If she takes after her mother, she'll be reading these herself in less than three years.
(One can only hope.)

I've also been reading great stuff online that has made me think.  Some of it I shared on Facebook, all of it is good:

One of the most beautiful essays I've read in a long time about motherhood and self-image in a modern world. (Other good things on the website.)
Family Stories that Bind Us.  Naturally, I love everything about this.
My friend Kelsie's great post about perspective.
The growing stay-at-home-mom trend.
Holidays are getting crazy.
Giving up new clothes for a year, which is something I would LOVE to do if I could quit changing sizes.  (See above post about motherhood and self-image.....)

Pinterest, You Are Drunk.  Occasionally inappropriate but a good laugh, especially if you're like me and wonder who does those crazy things, and why does everyone else like it??  We all need a reality check every once in a while.

Watching.  I stopped for a while because I was SO MAD about Rose Tyler being stuck in a parallel universe, but I'm trying to like Martha.  I really am.

Dad

There's an old joke in my family about my dad injuring himself doing the most ridiculous of things - walking down the sidewalk, for example - when he was an active athlete for his first 25 or so years of his life.

One incident I remember vividly was a summer evening when we were walking on empty plastic barrels in our backyard.  (What?  Not everyone has 55-gallon water barrels lying around?)
We were all testing our skills and balance, walking along the tops of the rolling barrels, and I guess Dad thought he needed to show us a thing or two.  Long story short: he scared us all pretty good.
Dads shouldn't get seriously injured, right?

SO.  Last night I was in the kitchen, ready to start on dinner, when Slice walked in the back door.
"Uh .... Rachel .... I cut myself.  It's pretty bad."
"What?  What do you mean you cut yourself?"
"I mean I cut myself!  With a knife!"
At this point I turned to look.  He was fairly calm, so when he pulled up the pant leg I was surprised at the size of the gash in his leg.
"How did that happen?"
"I was throwing my knife and it bounced back and sliced my leg ..."
"You were throwing the ... bounced back off ... of what?"
"THE TREE."
.....


On the bright side, we have good insurance and live 4 blocks from the hospital.  And, I won't have to tell Liam not to play with knives for a very long time.  That kid remembers EVERYTHING.

you know I have to put this here.

mid-March

If I wasn't still recovering from the worst flu virus since Christmas '09 I would have mentioned something earlier about Slice being home from his mission for half a decade (last week).  That trip to Salt Lake - that instant I walked in and saw him for the first time in over two years - left an indelible impression on my memory.  I've said it before and I'll say it again: he was glowing.
My friend had grown up in Japan.

Every March I start getting a little sappy thinking about the series of un/fortunate events that led to our wedding a mere three months later.

Now we have two kids, a house, a dog and and a Kitchenaid.  And a 26th birthday tomorrow for Slice.

Time flies when you're having fun!

Storage

The day that Slice goes back to work you can usually find me dragging myself out of bed, house torn apart, trying to recover from six days of work and play.  Today is one of those days.

Our goal for the month of February was two-fold: storage room under the stairs and case lot sale.  Truth be told, we did it late and in the wrong order.  Saturday we hit up the grocery store and spent over $400 on goods that, hopefully, will last us a long time.  It was a little bit emergency essentials (wheat, oats, water barrels) and a lot of what we eat on a regular basis (mandarin oranges!).  It looks so pitiful in this photo.

Monday we took everything out of the storage room under the stairs, which is a room I have pretty well managed to avoid for the two years we've been in this house.  It was scary.  Bare foundation walls, water streaks, cobwebs, decades-old food stains, perpetually cold ... out of sight, out of mind, right?
It doesn't look pitiful enough in this photo, because Slice had already started painting it.

We vacuumed and wiped and scrubbed it all as well as we could, and yesterday Slice started painting the whole thing.  Paint sprayer, folks, I highly recommend.  A thin coat of primer took several hours to dry because the walls were so cold, but by evening it was finally ready to insulate.

We cut 3/4" foam in pieces to fit between the walls and the shelves.  Every single shelf opening is a different size, naturally, so it took me a few hours and a few razor blades and a few episodes of Word World to get it all done.

Then we put down some wallpaper to preserve the shelves (brightens it up a bit!), and put everything back in there.  I'm pleased to say I don't have nightmares about it anymore.

this is only half the room.  well, a little more than half, because it's under stairs ....

You can't see the walls in the picture but trust me, the new white is MUCH better than the old dinginess.  The foam keeps it a little bit warmer, but still cold enough for good storage.  And we might still put down some epoxy floor coating just for kicks. 

Another day, another day.

Band Nerd

Several weeks ago I was talking to a friend whose daughter started school this year. She is absolutely determined that her daughter will play organized sports.
"It doesn't have to be soccer, but she HAS to play a sport.  If she doesn't, I don't know what she'll be ... a band nerd??  I'm not having a band nerd for a daughter."

I smiled and nodded, like I knew where she was coming from, and she went on her merry way.  Then I couldn't stop thinking about it.

First of all, I don't really know where she's coming from.  I haven't played an organized sport (besides church ball - story for another day!) since 2nd grade.  And not only do I not feel bad about it, I don't care if my kids play sports either.  I've attended enough games to know that many people turn into less civilized, more profane versions of themselves in the name of "competition."  I have lost respect for several individuals after seeing their behavior during a heated moment in a game.
Why are we all okay with this? Why do we want our kids to see and do it too?

Second, I am a band nerd.  I played flute in band from 4th grade through 12th, and my memories from school band are some of my most cherished.  That last rehearsal before a concert, when everything comes together - that moment the conductor raises his hands - that terrifying first note of a solo - that twisting knot in the pit of a nervous stomach.  Singing for jazz band, cummerbunds, ice cream celebrations, I still miss it all sometimes.

And the things I learned from music! Show me how playing a sport in school is more beneficial to a person throughout their life than learning an instrument is.  Show me how a person can bless other people by kicking a ball well.  Show me how the vulgarity and oft-degrading environment of athletics is better than the poise and precision of musicianship.

And I will show you how music is good for the soul.  I'll show you the growth I've seen in my own life, in my own piano and voice students as they gained confidence through mastery. I'll show you the overwhelming support of the parents I deal with on a regular basis.  I'll show you the healing that comes from a good practice session, the elation from a well-executed performance.
I'll show you that life doesn't get much better than it is when you're singing.

That's what I want for my kids.

Ambulance

Here's something that happens when you live in the oldest neighborhood in town: ambulances.

There have been at least four times in the past year that we've seen ambulances in front of our immediate neighbors' homes.  We never really know what to do about it .... head on over before the stretcher comes out? Call the RS President?  Ask if we can help?
What do you do?

This morning I was up at 1:30 with a crying (teething) girl when I noticed lights flashing in my kitchen window.  I poked my head out front to see who got pulled over, and instead caught sight of an ambulance and police car parked at Donna's house.  A truck pulled up shortly after.  Donna's a widow and our favorite neighbor; we try to keep an eye on her.

I woke Slice and we watched for a long while, until we saw several people walk out the front door.  Donna was among them.  She was escorted to the truck, climbed in, and everyone drove away.

Aging is risky business.

If you give a Slice a paintbrush

If you give a Slice a paintbrush, he'll want some paint to go with it.
If you get some paint from Ace (20% off, thanks President's Day sale), he'll want to paint the kitchen.

So much beige/tan!

If you start prepping the kitchen for paint, he'll think about replacing the faucet.
If you think about replacing the faucet, he'll want to replace the countertops/backsplash/appliances and you'll have to agree to wait on those, because this project could get WAY out of hand really quickly.
But you will let him replace the faucet, because it's pretty nasty and rusted and yellow.
(Of course that takes three times as long as it should.)
(75-year-old house, remember?)

When he gets the new faucet put in, you can start cleaning everything up.

may need some new decor...

While you're cleaning everything up, you might hear a knock at the door and open it to find this: 

which was a pretty awesome deal from Overstock (refurbished, 17% off, thanks President's Day sale!).  And when you find it, you're going to want to use it, so you'll make these:

Of course Slice will want one.
But if you give Slice a cookie, he might want a paintbrush to go with it.....