Blonde moment, shots, and advertising.

 I took my 8-year old nephews Tim and Ben to the doctor this week for a check-up.  They were so excited/ nervous they could barely stand it.  I had to promise there would be no shots.  They asked what would happen if the doctor said they needed shots and I assured them we would just say no thank you and leave.

During the visit,  the doctor checked Ben's right ear, Ben took his hand and covered up his left ear.  Then when the doctor looked into Ben's left ear, Ben covered up his right ear.  Not sure what Ben was doing, I asked him why he covered up his ears.  Ben replied that he didn't want the doctor to see through to the other side...

Before we left the doctor's office the doctor asked if I wanted the boys to get flu shots.  Looks of terror crossed both of the boys' faces.  I shook my head, grabbed both of their hands and said "No thank you!" as we left the room.  The boys were so impressed---they thought they were totally getting away with something.  I didn't bother telling them that it was an "optional" shot.  (Good luck to Julie when she has to take them in for the real one!)

On the way home from the doctor's office Tim seemed very concerned that everyone was decorating for Christmas already.  "Aunt Mindy---it isn't even Thanksgiving yet!"  I agreed that it did seem early for Christmas decorations.

"But what about Thanksgiving?"  Tim anguished.  Then he started listing off reasons:

"Do you think they just don't like Thanksgiving?"
"Do you think it's because they are allergic to Turkeys?"
"Is it because they are on a diet?"

This went on and on...Then Ben chimed in:
"I think they might have just forgotten all about Thanksgiving!"

Tim replied," Maybe!"  Then after a minute:  "I know! Thanksgiving just needs to have better advertising...."

May 4, 2013

Ten years ago I had this really great idea.  This great idea involved texturing my living room walls.  I hired someone to come and do it but it didn't look like how I imagined it.  And then the tan color I picked out looked grey on the walls.  So basically it was like a cave in my living room.  Not quite what I wanted.  But since I paid to have it done, I figured I had to grin and bear it.

Since my son is home from college on a break and my sister is here to help, I decided it would be "fun" to sand and repaint the living room walls.  We got the sanding done in one day and it was amazing how much dust one room could generate. ( More validation that texturing the walls was a bad idea and could never be repeated.)

After priming the room I asked my son what color we should paint it.  He replied, "How about textured grey!"  Not funny.  We decided on a nice buttery yellow color.  Which totally lightened up the room.

After all the dust in the carpet we decided that maybe wood flooring would be nice.  After taking the carpet and padding out and spending the evening pulling out all the nifty staples in the floor, my 8 year old nephew Tim came in to check out our progress.

"I hate to break it to you," he announced, "but this wood floor looks really really bad."  We tried to explain that this was just the sub-floor and the REAL wood floor would go on top.  Tim was not impressed at all and before he left he added, "If you would have let me help, it might have had a chance of looking good." 

Hopefully in the next couple of weeks we'll get the wood floor in and make Tim proud.
April 22, 2013

It has been said that to become a man you must do 3 things:
1) Plant a tree
2) Write a book
3) Have a son

In order to begin his journey to manhood, my son planted a tree in our front yard five years ago.  We named the tree Roy.  Over the years Roy has managed to become part of our family.  Not only is he in most of our family pictures, one of the kids makes sure he has a scarf to wear in the winter, and we say good bye to him when we leave the house.

When we discovered that Roy was planted too close to the house and power lines and would have to cut down, there was great sorrow and murmuring.  In an attempt to appease our heartbreak, my husband decided we would try to relocate Roy.  This was not an easy task.

My daughter Anna refused to participate on the principle that she did not want to be involved in destroying her brothers manhood.  When she heard we would try moving Roy to the backyard, she reluctantly agreed to help,  because moving the symbol of Nick's manhood to the backyard is less traumatizing then actually cutting it down.

After finally replanting Roy in the backyard compost hole, we decided that maybe Nick could continue on his journey by writing a book.

Maybe the book could be called, "The uprooting and relocation of my manhood."

Heather has a special knack for asking for things that she really wants, at times that I just can't say no.  For example minutes after waking up from back surgery she asked to play the bassoon.  Guess who got a bassoon?

Anyway, my daughter Heather left for the Missionary Training Center today.  She's going to be gone for 18 months and only asked me to do one thing for her:  Update my blog every week so she will know what we've been doing while she's gone.

 So now I'm obligated to write---Luckily, I didn't promise her that it would be interesting---only informative. 

Unfortunately, it's been a while since I've blogged.  In fact, I've forgotten my password and it took me forever to get logged in...But promises are promises.  So let the good times roll.

P.S.  I made a fruit smoothie today and thought of Heather.  (Heather:  Knowledge is knowing a tomato is a fruit.  Wisdom is not putting the tomato in your fruit smoothie.)


Have you met my sister?

My sister and her five kids are living with me and my family this year.  It's been crazy but totally fun.  My sister is 38 years old. She is 3 years younger then I am. Twice in the past month people have thought I was her mother. Seriously? Do I look like I gave birth to a 38 year old? (Don't answer that.) After the second time, my sister whispered to me, "I told you to start using moisturizing cream." 

I've come to see that even though we grew up together, we are totally different.  I never thought of myself as being anti-social.  I mean, I've met all my neighbors.  The important ones at least---the ones on either side of me and across the street.  However i've discovered that I might not be as social as I thought I was.  After only being here for a month my sister had not only met every person up and down the whole street, but she had also brought them over some kind of homemade treat.

Someone from down the street stopped in front of my house the other day and said, "It's nice to meet you!  How long have you lived here?"  When I told him that we have lived here for 15 years, he replied, "Well now you don't have to say hello to us for another 15 years!"

The next time I questioned my social skills was at church.  Before Relief Society starts each week, my sister goes around the room giving everyone a back massage and rearranges everyone to make sure no one is sitting alone. (No, I'm not kidding...)  I tend to sit in the back row and have even tried to convince my daughter to fake a siezure so we could leave early.

So.  Have you met my sister?   Please don't sit around waiting for me to introduce her to you...chances are she'll be over shortly to get acquainted.  Most likely with baked goods.
This week I'm volunteering on the food truck for the Cadets drum and bugle corps.  In between meals I ran to Walmart to pick up a couple of things my son forgot to pack (important stuff like shampoo and deodorant...) 

Anyway, I was carrying my shopping bags from the car to my room and I passed 4 different employees from the college we are staying at.  Each and everyone of them made some type of comment like, "It looks like you've been cooking!" or "I hope you are cooking something good!"  I couldn't figure it out.

Finally after the fourth person made a comment I replied that I had just gotten back from Walmart and did it look like I've been cooking?

The guy pointed at my apron and said figured I'd been cooking.  I looked down and sure enough I still had on my apron from the food truck.  Maybe this also explains some strange looks I had gotten earlier at Walmart...
Dream Weaver

I spent this past weekend volunteering on the Cadet's food truck for one of the winter camps. Last night I had a dream that the director of the Cadets told us that the only way we would be able to get a new food truck would be if we catered weddings on the off season.

The next thing I know the food truck volunteers were in a huge argument over whether or not we could serve ants on a log (celery topped with peanut butter and raisins) at the wedding reception.

In between the arguing, people kept coming up to me to congratulate me and also to thank me for arranging my mother to be the first wedding we would cater.

I saw my dad sitting at a table eating oatmeal and I started freaking out. I ran to my mom to find out what was going on. She insisted that this was a good cause and she wanted to support the Cadets.

I took the matter to the corps director and explained the situation. The verdict came quickly. My mom would be allowed to be married as long as I agreed to marry my father. Then they could charge for a double wedding. It would be a win-win situation.

I woke up this morning trying to figure out which was more upsetting. Me marrying my father or me having to have my wedding on the food truck.