Nutballs, peanut brittle and fudge, oh my!!

This is going to be somewhat of a self-deprecating blog, so be forwarned!~  I am laying it all out there, but I hope you find a little humor along the way (:

  I am in one of those moods where I see no end to the addiction that has plagued me now for the last twenty years.  I love food.  I love to cook it , bake it, and eat it.  There, I said it.  That being said, I don't like how I feel when I overeat it, or abuse it.  I love the social part of eating, and I so love the friends that I eat it with!!  I love the texture of food.  The crunch of cookies with a chewy center, the smoothness of a really good piece of chocolate, the blistered cheese on a piece of pizza and the freshly baked roll with its hot center smeared with softening real butter.   I love the smell of food.  Hot cinnamon oozing from fresh  cinnamon rolls,  cheese and potato soup with just a bit of sour cream bubbling on the stove, and pumpkin cookies with nutmeg, cinnamon and cloves just out of the oven fill the empty places inside me.

I make rolls about every Sunday

Dorma, next door neighbor and friend extraordinaire, makes nut balls each Christmas.  Lori, MaryAnn and I all eagerly gather in her kitchen on an early December afternoon to make these delectable delights of caramel cream, chocolate and roasted almonds.  Idle Isle has nothing over Dorma! She has pefected these tasty little balls of goodness, and we clamor excitedly around her kitchen with our tupperware bowls.  Dorma assigns us our roles in the painstaking process,  and we obediently take our places.  Dorma has melted the chocolate very carefully in the oven at the perfect temperature.  She has pre-made the bowls of caramel, and the kitchen is pristine with every ingredient in an assembly line.  Two people must rub their hands with corn starch,  take a small spoon and dig out the frozen ball of delicious caramel.  It can't be too small or too big, and Dorma gets testy if you can't perform this simple task.  She takes over the chocolate and we toss the balls into the smooth  glossy waves of decadent goodness.   She yells at us if we get more than three or four in the pan.  I have been known to use a little force and splash a bit.  She immediately berates me.  Someone has to let the balls then roll down into a bowl of toasted almonds, gathering the appropriate amount of nuts.  They have to harden for just a minute, and so you must regulate them to the sides until they are deemed  ready to go into our tupperware.  I was taken off the nut duty this Christmas because Dorma said I didn't know how to let them roll, and I let too many pile up on the sides. We let her gripe at us at much as she wants because the nutballs are just that good!  We cannot wait for the rush of sugar speeding through our bloodstreams as we savor them all season long.  Most of us elect not to share them because they must be appreciated for the heavenly little orbits that they are....and our husbands choose to just pop them into their mouths and crunch them down.  They are only allowed one or two because of their insensitivity and ingratitude.

Dorma's famous Nutballs

 I like the way food looks. When I have been depressed or overwhelmed , I immediately turn to making  chocolate chip cookies.  Something about creaming all those ingredients together in perfection,  baking , and then plopping them out onto their cracked little bellies makes me happy.  I like to see the little rivers and craters appear that tell me that they are going to be delicious!  After performing the "plop test" I know immediately if I have a success! After having a c-section with Rachel and having four other little kids clamor around me that night after getting home, I baked cookies.  Jerry was gone to a meeting, and I wanted the familarity of my kitchen and hot cookies.  It brought me instant comfort when I was besieged with thoughts of "how can I possibly raise five kids under seven?"  Hah, little did I know there would come another night just like that one after giving birth to twin boys and having  seven kids under nine years of age!!  My sister Liz would aften call me late at night in those days  and say in a small, pleading little voice, "is this the  home bakery where I can get hot cookies and milk?"  I would be only too happy to oblige.  I baked, and we all were a little happier for a moment.

My nephew and niece Brian and Cadie eating hot cookies 

  Making food for people has always meant love to me.  My dad adored peanut brittle.  Mom had a world famous peanut brittle recipe.  We learned to snub our noses at other peanut brittle.  Hers was thick, shiny and beautiful with lots of peanuts.  Every year she would make that brittle for Dad.  She never used a candy thermometer.  She got the "never fail cup of ice water" and dipped a little of that  brittle in it as the candy boiled away.  Need to know the soft ball stage?  Does it sit on your finger after pulling it from the water?  How about the brittle stage?  Does it crack between your teeth?  I remember sitting around her warm kitchen on a cold winter's night testing bits of candy for her as we munched away at the tiny slivers of brittle.  I make it the very same way.  After my Dad died at the young age of 56, I made it for George , my dear friend SueAnn's beloved father.  He loved it as much as Thiel (my dad).  George passed away a couple of years ago, and I still make it.  My friends Vickie and Robin like it so we trade candy.  Robin makes me ginger molasses cookies, and Vickie (or her husband Rock) give me their famous pecan roll.  It's all good...and I do mean good!   SueAnn doesn't like peanut brittle so much so I make fudge.  I confess that when I sent it home with her daughter Kylie, I wanted to make another batch for myself.  Then I told Kylie I would make her a batch just for her (so I could eat some)...  When I make the peanut brittle, I look at mom's handwriting on paper, and I am feeled with longing for her.   It has been over fifteen years since we made peanut brittle together.  I remember thinking that I could not do it without her that first year after her death,  but as I looked at  her scrawled words on an old recipe book that is blotted with spills I felt her with me.  Looking at her handwriting floods  me with a sweet remembrance of that childhood home where I felt safe and loved.

Mom's peanut brittle recipe

 My friend Laurie, who is a far better cook and baker than I, would make cookies on a sunday afternoon while we all waited in piggish anticipation.  She lived just down the street and we would walk back and forth between our two houses expecting to see something exciting everytime we opened the door.  Not much was ever happening so we baked instead. Our favorite was chocolate chips cookies.   Laurie would get a little testy as we would eat them up as quickly as she would pull a batch from the oven.  We were not nearly as grateful as we should have been for such delectable treats.  Sitting in Ireta's kitchen (her mom) was wonderful.  Life was so relaxing then with no kids, and worries for the future.  Oh sure, we all whined about when we would be married and have kids.  We really did pine for those days when we would know true happiness.  We would make bets on who would get married first and be in wedded bliss.  Little did we know that life would be a lot more complicated than afternoons at Laurie's table eating cookies, chocolate eclairs and fudge.

Yup, I have an affection for food.  I am trying to figure out why, and I think that I use it in a variety of ways, the most blatant way being a true addiction.

   "Addiction is characterized by inabiltiy to consistently abstain, impairment in behavioral control, craving, diminished recognition of significant problems with one's behaviors and interpersonal relationships, and a dysfunctional emotional response."

I got that from ASAM ( American Society of Addiction Medicine, and I think it sums it up pretty well! Why can I not be addicted to exercise, or cleaning?  Everything in moderation they say.... but I wish I were different.  Wishing does not make it so, however, and tonight I make no promises about any decisive actions other than to do what I have always done....."sigh, and complain, and fervently resolve to do differently just for tomorrow" .  Except the tomorrows are becoming the weeks, months and years, and next year I will be sixty years old. ):

I want to play with my grandkids, go on trips, and climb the stupid stairs to my house without pain.
Yes, I have an underactive thyroid, and yes, my genetic make-up does not lean toward thin and willowy.....but....eating sensibly can keep the demons at bay.  I have been watching "My 600 pound life" and am both amazed and saddened by what I see...  There , but for the grace of God go I?  Yet, did not these people have a mere fifty pounds to lose at one time?  It's all relative.  I have decided that for some of us, ten pounds is as hard as a hundred.

Mom and I attended an Uncle's funeral the year before she passed away and as we stood in the room waiting to close the casket and say our goodbyes, she leaned towards me and whispered something.
I thought she was going to say something loving about Uncle Thayle, but no, she said conspiratorily, "Jane, it's not our fault, I tell you!"  "What isn't, Mom?"  I queried...  "Have you ever been in a room with as many fat people as this, and they are all our relatives!" she whispered back.    We contemplated these words as we stopped at Chuck A Rama on the way home.

Matthew and Mark are coming home in just a month, and the mom who left them at the MTC two years ago will look like the same mom who picks them up.  I've changed, but not so much in the physical sense.  I wanted them to see the new, fit mom who had conquered the food addiction. But I have changed nonetheless.  The wisdom, the gratitude, and the wonderment that I have gained in seeing my own children transformed has in return changed me.  For just a little frame of time, I was elevated to a place where I lived vicariously through their experiences in the mission field. We  prayed for the people they taught, we fasted for each missionary, we worried and we rejoiced.  We were so, so blessed and as excited as I am to see my kids again; I am reluctant to say goodbye to this part of my journey with my full-time missionary children.    Rachel's maturity and transformation  is in her eyes, her demeanor, and her interaction with people.  Being a disciple of Christ has changed her.  "She gets it".

Most people who serve on a mission say this, " I loved seeing people's lives change for the better". Our behaviors and desires can change through the healing, cleansing and enabling power of the Atonement of Jesus Christ.

I hope I can remember this and keep striving as I keep the commandments.  Somedays I am earnest, and other days not so much.  I long for the true freedom that self-mastery can give me.

Perhaps next year,  I can resolve my relationship with Dorma's nutballs!!

I love to see the temple

Rachel is home.   It feels pretty good to have a child home.  (She is 23, but still my baby) The first of the faithful four missionaries to return home with honor is adjusting to non-missionary life.  Jerry and I are adjusting to a home with an adult child.  She is doing well, and is making plans for the future.   She is  still our "Rachel", but wiser, more articulate and so, so strong in her testimony of Jesus Christ and the restored Gospel.  We are so thankful for her dedication in serving and testifying in Michigan for the last year and a half.  Families are so important.  As I wait for the rest of my children to come home from their missions, I am reminded of the eternal nature of families.  I think about the recent dedication of our own Ogden Temple and the reason for temples.  

Temples are sacred places where we go to learn , to ponder our existence and to be united with our families. How blessed we are to have one ten minutes away!

Last May, JoAnn Taylor (Jerry's mom ) was sealed to her husband and children in the Brigham City Temple. Temples are also  places where we go to make promises with God.  Unlike regular church buildings, only those who are prepared and who hold a special recommend of worthiness can enter into this holy place.  However, everyone can feel of its power and beauty.  

We learn about our relationship with God, and our purpose here on earth.  "And that all people who shall enter upon the threshold of the Lord's House may feel Thy power and feel constrained to acknowledge that Thou has sanctified it and it is Thy house, a place of Thy holiness." D & C 109:13

We believe that families can be sealed together for time and all eternity, that relationships will not be lost through death.  "Families are forever!"

JoAnn was not sealed to her husband at the time of his death  in 1993.  She was active in the LDS faith, but had not received her endowment.  The endowment is a gift that one receives in the temple that empowers you and helps you to prepare for eternal marriage.   She did not show a great deal of interest in doing so until a wonderful Bishop asked her to read the Book of Mormon, to develop a testimony of its truths.  She was very supportive of her children, and as each one of them married in the temple, she sat in the waiting room.  She was very much her own person, but when she finally believed something , she believed it with her whole heart. She developed that testimony. (She later told me that the Book of Mormon was a "real page turner")  She called one evening as I sat in the living room on a chilly  December night.  "Would your family like to join me next Saturday in the Ogden Temple as I receive my endowment?" she asked innocently...   Well, I could have been knocked over with a feather! (as my mom used to say)  We were so happy, and so we met there in the temple a few days later and witnessed her covenanting with her Heavenly Father.  All of her family who had recommends were there to rejoice with her.

And then...this last May for her 85th birthday, her wish was for her family to be sealed to her for all eternity.   Jerry and his sisters joined her in being sealed together around the alter in the temple.  Most of her grandkids were able to attend.  Jamie Kartchner (JoAnn's granddaughter in law ) knelt in proxy for Julie, who died in 1991,  Jerry knelt in proxy for his Dad and they were made an eternal family.  It was a beautiful Spring day, and will remain forever a beautiful memory in my mind. I am in awe of my mother-in-law and her faith and devotion to God and Family.  She is truly an example of courage, of diligence and conviction of one's ideals.  She has become not only my husband's mother and my children's grandmother, but my dear friend.  I look up to her for so many things, and especially for her desire to be charitable, kind and faithful.  She is such an example to those who have the privilege to be acquainted with her. 

JoAnn with some of the great grandkids

Jerry Taylor, Jackie Taylor Kartchner, JoAnn Taylor and Jan Taylor Stauffer 

                                                                          The family!

JoAnn and some of her grandkids

Why we build temples

                                  Ben took this video with his drone camera.  It's beautiful!


The blessings of the temple are many.  When I asked Jerry what powerful statement I could make about the temple, he replied with, "The temple is a good place".   Yup, he has always been a man of few words.  But he is  absolutely right about that statement.  There are many good places in our lives that give us sanctuary from the world, and  teach us things about ourselves and our potential.  The temple is a place where we can be magnified, purified, sanctified, strengthened , sealed, ennobled, and perfected. There are other places that are holy and reverent, but the temple allows us to see beyond this earth life and see what lies beyond in the eternities.  I am so grateful for my belief that at this time of year when families are convening to celebrate Christmas, my mother, father and brothers who have passed away are also celebrating.  I cannot embrace them physically, but I know of their love for us.  I am looking forward to being reunited with them someday, and it is in the temple that I often feel them close.

I am reminded of Christ this Christmas Eve, and his atonement for all mankind that made it possible for us to live after this life is over.  I am humbled to know that He knows each one of us.   He was not just a mortal man;  He is the Son of God.   The apostle Paul prayed in behalf of the early Saints, "That Christ may dwell in your hearts by faith, that ye, being rooted and grounded in love, may be able to comprehend with all saints what is the breadth and length, and depth, and height; and to know that the love of Christ , which passeth knowledge that ye might be filled with all the fullness of God  (Ephesians 3:17-19)

    Merry Christmas everyone!!  May you all feel His love in the coming new year!

I remember a Christmas..

Christmas Memory "Emily and the Barbie Crayons"

When my children were young, Christmas was such an exciting time for me!  It meant that I got to experience the magic of Christmas through their eyes, and I loved every minute of it.  I lived vicariously through every first snowfall, the smell of each new Christmas doll, and their shining faces as the Christmas tree was put up.  It was almost better than being a child because the giving of presents was so much better than the receiving of them. 

One year, my friends and I decided to make a special present that would totally overwhelm and delight our little girls.  Barbie houses were all the rage, and we decided that no cheap cardboard constructed houses would be acceptable.  We trudged out to my friend’s workshop after kids were in bed to build these unbelievable doll houses.  Night after frigid night, we drove on icy roads to huddle in the cold to carefully construct beautiful houses.  They were gorgeous, with tiled roofs, and real carpet.  We painted the wood, and pasted in real wallpaper.  They were one of a kind, and we could hardly contain our excitement and anticipation as we visualized our daughter’s joy.  This would be a Christmas to remember!

That morning, I positioned my husband carefully with the camcorder to capture the magic that our daughter would feel as she gazed upon the most amazing dollhouse to ever behold.   She woke, and with her siblings made a beeline into our living room where Santa had left his treasures.  She tripped gaily past the magnificent dollhouse to where she picked up her Christmas stocking.  She could hardly contain herself as she picked up a package of 69 cent Barbie crayons, and shrieked with pure delight, “Barbie Crayons, I have always wanted Barbie Crayons!!”  We tried to get her to notice the huge gift that would be the envy of all her little friends, but she continued to gaze with adoration on the box of crayons, examining each one, and demanding a coloring book so she could try them all out.  She did eventually play with her dollhouse, but that Christmas morning taught us all about gift giving, and the magic of childhood. Our children can be happy with so little, and the true spirit of Christmas was forever enhanced by the recording of our little girl reminding us what giving is all about. 

Jerry and I are expecting "again?"

It is October 30 and the most magnificent fall I can remember in recent years is coming to a close. The flowers I planted this summer are still in the ground.   They look pretty even while wilting   because our secondary water was turned off the first of the month.  Who could have known we would have such a a warm and gorgeous autumn? My little cherry tree will most surely lose the rest of its leaves this sunday when a cold winter storm is promised.   I wanted everything to remain bright and pretty because our Rachel will be coming home this next Wednesday. I think Winter is inevitable, however, and I will succumb to the season.

I must have been super busy with writing  and receiving letters, sending packages, and being faintly aware of the weeks and months flying by.  I truthfully have not taken much  notice of the passing of time.  Did I really ever have four kids at home?  Jerry and I have settled quite nicely as "empty nesters" , but sadly have come to realize that the kids were not the messy ones in the nest.   I have had to clean up my own things, and really miss Mark on Sundays when I would cook with him picking up right behind me.

I possess a myriad of feelings: anxiety, excitement, trepidation for the future---but mostly a longing to see and hold my girl again.  She has been in my heart and in my prayers these last eighteen months just as she was when I brought her into this world and raised her those 21 years.  She will always be my "Wrenny girl", and that won't stop even as she has grown into womanhood.  She was a fascinating little bird as a child, and I nicknamed her Wren from early on...  I loved her fiercely as I do all my kids, and they will always be my babies.  Their happiness and well-being are everything to me.

I had hoped to change as much as my missionaries have, but alas, I am the same person.  I was going to set some goals for self-improvement in all areas.  I got myself a "vision" board, put some insightful quotes on it,  and looked at it for about a week......  I am a little older, have about five extra pounds I certainly did not need, but I am a little wiser.  I like to think it is because of the prayers I have offered, the books I have read, and the experiences I have had through living vicariously through missionary life.  My own life is much the same and yet just a little different.

Rachel's room was used as by Emily and Ruby last summer, and as a nice place to throw all my stuff these last few months.  I sure will miss that extra closet space.  I feel as if I am expecting a  new baby's arrival!  I feel the nesting instinct settling in, and want to clean and prepare her little room.

 Rachel loves kids and will , no doubt, become a favorite of her little niece.  Ruby has grown to be a big girl of almost twenty months, and Ben and Jess are expecting a little girl in March.

RUBY

Cute announcement by Ben and Jess

Rachel's letters have been wonderful.  A week ago, she said this in one of her final E-mails:

"I love this gospel and I love being a missionary.. I just can't believe it's coming to an end so soon. I know what I've done these last 18 months is exactly what Heavenly Father needed me to do. My mission hasn't been perfect but it's been soo rewarding. I've grown as a person, I've grown in my relationship with Heavenly Father, I've made life long friends and I've been able to help others."

It is my fervent hope she will return home with some new-found skills for life.  Her courage has amazed me, and I am not at all sure I could have served a mission.  Her heart has been in the right place, and her Heavenly Father knew it. She overcame doubt, fear, and shyness to reach out to other people while putting her own life on hold.  In the end, her service gave her life new meaning. 

So, so proud of this girl!  Welcome Home, Sister Rachel Taylor!  You are much loved and your arrival is eagerly anticipated!!

I have a child's brown leather sandal in my house and no, it does not belong to Ruby.  It is probably at least 15 years old and maybe 25 years if it belongs to Ben or Adam.  It looks like about a child's size two or three.  I need to throw it away because it is warped and weathered and obviously belongs in the trash.  Except...when I saw it laying on the freshly mowed grass in the back yard, I teared up.  I can't  throw it away just yet because it is the last clothing article of my kids' childhoods.  Of course I questioned Jerry about this sandal and was not at all surprised to know that it had flown out of the bushes as he mowed the back yard.  So there I stood that end of summer day and held that little sandal turning it over in my hands as a flood of memories filled my mind.  The image was so clear of  of my former little children  sitting on the back step with popsicles in their mouths , and their little feet enclosed in salt water sandals.

Those salt water sandals were a ritual for me and for a few of my friends.  We would head to Fred Meyer in the early spring to buy these great sandals that never broke and never wore out.  They came in all colors and you could pair them on Sundays with a dress or shorts for the boys.  Oh my gosh!!...they looked so cute paired with the little shortalls from Osh Kosh.  Because they never wore out, I could keep them for all the brothers and sisters in our household.  I suppose they were comfortable; no one ever complained.  I did see an older woman with them once and asked her how they felt.  She didn't gush about them as I was prone to do, but told me they felt pretty good.... I looked them up and they are a little more expensive than a few years ago!

I suppose I can confess that our bushes are like a time capsule.  We seriously have found so many things from the past.  Jerry dug up the fitzer bushes (spelling? ) in the front yard about five years ago, and boy, did we find treasures from long ago.  My friend SueAnn used to make fun of us because those bushes always had something sitting on top of them.  Toys, Bikes, lunch dishes....(no, seriously)  The kids would run around and invariably toss toys and garbage on those ugly bushes.

 A lot of people in our neighborhood  had those bushes, and they were all the rage back in the seventies, but they harbored spiders and other creatures.  Nothing lasts forever and those bushes were dry and patchy.  We don't normally like big projects and try to stay away from anything that is time consuming or  too much work, but those bushes had to go.  Many people advised us how to do it.  Most of them recommended tying ropes around the roots and pulling them out with a truck.  Strangers would stop and offer suggestions.  We don't own a truck, and we do have a railroad retaining wall.  We were a little afraid that the wall  would go down and we would have an even bigger mess.  Jerry decided that he would dig out each stump by hand.  People!!....we are not talking about two or three stumps.   He estimates there were about forty.  Just when he thought he was done, he would find another one.  He took a pickax, shovel and  would dig away until he got to the root  and  then  used his bare hands.  I don't know if anyone has seen Jerry's hands, but they are big.  Not a little big, but really, really huge!! We have never found gloves to fit him.  Day by day, he would muck around in the dirt and with sweat pouring down his face dig away at those nasty roots.   We had to cut all the folliage off first, (if you can call that prickly , bug infested stuff folliage) and then he dug down  to the roots.  They were monstrous things with gnarly sharp appendages, and as he released each one from the dirt, he would victoriously hold it aloft ...giving it a toss onto the sidewalk below.   Some of the nastier roots took days, and he was, indeed, a man possessed.  It took him the better part of the summer to get them all out.  Where was I you might ask?  Jerry seemed happy enough, and was so into his work , that I puttered around the house, went shopping and out to lunch and left him to it.  I believe I gained weight that summer while he actually lost it from all his efforts.   As the bushes disappeared, many momentos from the past begin to again reappear.  We found Ghostbuster men, the Star Trek Enterprise, and many other once beloved toys.  There was also liquor bottles,  cigarette packages and a man's wallet containing a driver's license that expired twenty five years ago(:

cute kids, ugly bushes  (pretty sure the girls have on the sandals)

As Fall approached, the bushes and roots lay in piles.  Kind neighbors helped us gather them up and load them into a trailer for the dump.  We then hauled in some top soil and covered everything up.  Our neighbor Gary offered us a bunch of rocks from his yard, and the boys hauled them over.  Emily was dating Layne at the time and his family owned a rock quarry.  He hauled a few down, and placed a few really heavy ones to prove his manliness to Emily. Everything I do is pretty much random, and the word strategy is not in my vernacular.  Everyone placed them wherever they deemed appropriate , and it was okay with me.  I bought plants on sale, perenials and annuals and planted them without too much  thought.  I could only think "tall and short" and lots of color.....  The garden reflected my personality...messy,   but colorful and I loved it!  Each spring I would seek out new plants and some came out the next year while others did not.  I learned which ones liked a certain soil, and where they liked to be placed.  It has been a great joy to me to sift through the soil, to cut and prune and plant. I am completely alone (unless friends drop by) and my thoughts do not plague me as they sometimes do when I am involved in other things.

I have repeatedly told everyone I hated those bushes, and how happy I was with my flowers.  Yet...when that little sandal appeared from the still-ugly bushes in the back, I was transported back to the years when my children were small.  I could shut my eyes and still smell the heady scent of childhood.  Oh, I missed those years, and the little guys who wore those sandals.  I missed holding their warm little bodies as I served and loved them.   I remember well putting those sandals on and picking out matching clothes and preparing for the day.

Now...I am preparing for  four big kids to come home.   I have not seen those kids for almost two years and I miss them as much or more than the little babies they were....and so excited, yet melancholy for the passage of time.

I have not held these four  in my arms for awhile, but they have my heart

 The mirror tells me that I am getting older.  I do not like it one little bit.  I was teaching the vocabulary word "wrinkled" to the kids at school and told them I had wrinkles on my face and around my eyes.  One little boy nodded wisely, and replied, "because you're getting old!" Yup, pretty much, I am....and now I tell everyone not to wish the years away.  Not babyhood, toddlerhood..nor even the teen years!!  I remember just wanting the kids to be able to open doors by themselves and now they are having babies of their own!  Thank goodness I have Ruby to hold in my arms,  smell the sweetness of her hair, and think about ordering her some salt water sandals next summer.  Grandkids are, indeed, the best and I am excited to welcome another one next March!!!

Grandma and Ruby

 I know  that all stages of life have their joy , and I need to embrace the one I am in right now.  Just as my garden continues to replenish itself every year with brilliant colors, the tapestry of my life continues with so many different threads.  So very grateful for my many experiences.....

The walk with your child is for a lifetime

and needing to remember that although my life has a few weeds as does my garden, I am still able to enjoy its beauty.

Much prettier then the bushes!!

Families are forever

What's for dinner? Lysol Chicken!!

So....Rachel will be arriving home from her mission in less than three months!  Hardly possible, right?
She has had amazing experiences in the mission field, and is so glad she made the decision to serve almost two years ago.   Our ward has seven missionaries right now, and the other three are serving in Russia, Portugal and Peru!  Oh, the things those missionaries have had to eat!   Poor Drake has had to swear off hamburger which smelled extremely strange while cooking it, and was full of chunks of bone when he ate it!  Paige proved herself to be a  true peruvian when she ate a chicken foot, and endeared herself to the people with her enthusiastic consumption of something which is completely foreign to our american palates.  Mitchell would eat next to nothing when he left home, and now eats just about anything in Portugal.

  Jerry asked recently,  "What do you think Rachel would like to eat when she comes home?"  I , rather sarcastingly, retorted, "hmmm...she has been eating anything she likes here in the states, I'm sure she craves nothing.!"  However, Rachel is a foodie.  She is the one who went to Europe when she was 16 and took pictures of all her dinners so she could drool over them when she got home.  No four hundred year old castle pictures for Rachel!  Nope...she took a picture of that good soup in Germany!    When she was little and at family gatherings, she'd disappear from sight and  we always found her eating somethingat a lone at the table. It has long been our joke that she would be a chubby , red haired girl when she grew up.  Well, she has beautiful auburn hair, but  she is the slimmest of us all despite her love of food.
   I think I will make Lysol Chicken and baked potatoes.  I peel the potatoes, dip them in butter and onion soup mix and bake them.  Rachel loves them.  The Lysol Chicken is pretty easy too!  You simply marinate it in one cup of soy sauce, one cup of oil, and one cup of sprite. If you want a little bite, add a tsp or two of tabasco.   Then you grill it, and it's a tasty meal.  At this point you are probably thinking... did I not  read  "lysol" in the title of the chicken?  Why yes you did,  and I actually have used lysol (yep, the cleaning agent) in the  preparation of this tasty dish.

  Let me go back a few years to when I was making up the marinade one night for Sunday dinner the next day.  My niece , her husband and kids were coming up from Orem and I had my own seven kids to feed as well.  I was going to use one whole package of premium chicken from Harmons, (because it is trimmed so beautifully and it's the only kind I like although it's pricey)  , and have dinner all ready to go except from the grilling part.  I had my nice big bowl out, my chicken was cut length-wise in half, and I was multi-tasking by talking on the phone while I assembled everything.  I have since always made the marinade first and then added the chicken, but in those days I did it backwards.   Chicken in bowl-check, add soy sauce-check- add oil (from large yellow container in cupboard-check.... As I poured from the large yellow container which should have contained vegetable oil...strange fumes arose, and in horror I noticed that I was pouring from a large container of lysol cleaning agent.  What the heck??  Why was this container in the cupboard above my oven?  Because those boys had put it to the side of my oil instead of under the sink.  I hung up the phone, and removed that chicken immediately.  I had to save it!  Chicken is expensive , especially Harmon's chicken!!  I carefully and tenderly washed each piece under hot water and massaged it vigorously.  I smelled it, and could not detect any lysol, which you know is pretty strong!  I made up a new batch of marinade, and patted myself on the back for an averted sure disaster.  Whew!!  What a close call!

Sunday afternoon came and the table was set, potatoes were baking, and the kitchen was even cleaned up in anticipation for our dinner guests.  All that had to be done was grill all that chicken.  I went out into the sun and stood there musing on the loveliness of the fall day while I stood at the grill.   The delicious smell emanating forth gave me no cause for worry......until I brought it in and cut off a small piece to taste for doneness.  Arghhhhhh!!!  LYSOL!!!  Having never ingested it before; I still knew exactly what it was even if I didn't know what had transpired the night before.  There was no mistaking it, and the fastidious washing of the chicken had not removed the toxic chemical from its tender flesh.  I , of course, went a little crazy and declared that dinner was ruined!!  Jerry said, "well, we have baked potatoes and salad!!"   "NO", I shouted, "We need meat!"  There was only one thing to do....I called Dorma, my next door neighbor and friend of forty years and asked to raid her freezer.   She is the complete opposite of me in every way, (organized, prepared, motivated) and had turkey steaks conveniently downstairs.  I thawed those babies out , and we had a delicious dinner after all.
  Dorma now often prepares Lysol Chicken, and we don't even smile at the name as we mention to each other that we are fixing it.  This is the name of our  chicken if we prepare it, with or without the lysol.
 I actually made some today because it is good to make ahead and use in salads and fajitas.  I freeze it quite often after cooking it, and you've got tasty chicken for any recipe.  I admit it, I am more of a foodie then Rachel!  I have tons of cookbooks just because I like to look at the pictures and read the recipes.  Rachel is my one child who likes to cook as much as I do, and I can't wait to see her very soon now.

  She just sent  pictures of a church with great entrance and exit signs, how fun!

Yes, it's fully cooked, the light is just being funny....

                                                             yes, it's fully cooked...the red is just the light being funny...

The bubbergirl and bumps

Remember the Forest Gump movie where Tom Hanks says, "Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you're going to find?"  So true, and sometimes the chocolate is a delicous truffle, and sometimes its the mocha one or heaven forbid, the ginger one.  Yeah, I know sometimes different ones for different people!  Still, I have had a bad attitude never quite embracing the good times because I am fearful for the road ahead.  It prevents me from completely enjoying the taste of the mint chocolate I love.  I might have to spit out something nasty! (or give it to Jerry)  It's no way to live, believe  me, and for years I have planned out the worst possible scenario so that I can be prepared when and if it happens.  Then I won't be devastated, I will be resigned because I knew it was coming.  If it doesn't, well then... I am pleasantly and happily surprised!

I like to take Ruby (aka the bubbergirl) for stroller rides when she is at the house.  The summer evenings are so pleasant, and she likes to look around as I explain every tree, house and person that we pass along the way.  She is totally immersed in her surroundings, and I get to experience the beauty of every day life as I explain it to this little sixteen month old girl.  Everything is fascinating to her, and so it becauses fascinating to me once more as I explain the intricacies of a rock on the sidewalk or a tree branch that scrapes the grass.

One night as we journeyed along the sidewalk, I saw the edge of an uneven sidewalk just ahead.  For some reason, I didn't slow down as much as usual, and took it at a nice little clip.  I cheerily sang out "bump" as we jolted over that crack and Ruby jostled a bit.  I was totally surprised  when this little girl burst into tears and with arms raised beg to be picked up! I said , "it's okay, just a bump!"  No, it was not okay, and not cajoling on my part was going to comfort her when a bump had turned  from  a pleasant scenic journey into an unexpected terror.  I was a little taken aback as I picked her up,  patted her, kissed her little chubby cheek and wondered that such a minor shake-up could disturb her so much.  She settled down nicely, and was more than willing to get back in the stroller for the duration of our stroller ride.

It occured to me that although we don't expect or look forward to those bumps that come along in life, we, too, can be comforted and consoled by our family, friends and our Heavenly Father who knows a lot more than we do as to what we can endure. We move ahead even though the road isn't straight or the path isn't clear.  We may not ever know what we are learning from that bump.  Life may seem unfair or so overwhelming at times that we dispair in our inability to understand.  What lessons do we need to learn, what adjustments can we make in order to cope?

Elder Orson F. Whitney said, "No pain that we suffer, no trial that we experience is wasted.  It ministers to our education, to the development of such qualities as patience, faith, fortitude and humility.  All that we suffer and all that we endure, especially when we endure it patiently, builds up our characters, purifies our hearts, expands our souls, and makaes us more tender and charitable, more worthy to be called the children of God."

I worry about the bumps, and the mountains, and all the trials yet unforseen.  I am just that way.  A little bit pessimistic and a whole lot fearful.  My missionary kids have learned a lot of lessons these past few months, and a two year or eighteen month length of time can certainly be a little bumpy.

It has not been all they thought it would be, and yet it has been much more than they could have hoped for....  Lots of personal struggles, disappointments, and feelings of inadequancy have come to each one of them.  Lots of insights, personal growth and love for the people they meet have also come to them!

Mark was robbed at knife point last month but was cheerfully optimistic, and actually basked in the notoriety of it all.  Although he lost his wallet, watch and a little faith in his fellow men, he was okay He and his companion talked to a couple of news stations and were celebrities amongst their fellow missionaries when their stories were televised on the evening news.

Bad things happen, and while so much is uplifting and beautiful in this world, we will still experience a lot of sorrow.  I know there are lessons to be learned from lifes'  struggles, and I know that I have been tutored so many times when I've experienced trials.    The past doesn't belong to us anymore and so we go forward and try to love the great things about our journey, and to go on after the not-so-good or even horrible things that happen to us. And....even as I picked up my granddaugher to console her, we in turn can always be comforted by our Heavenly Father.   Our Savior has promised to take our yoke upon Him.  He knows from firsthand experience all about our pains and afflictions.  "He is touched with the feeling of our infirmities" (Hebrews 4:15)

Well , enough deep thinking for the night!  I just wish I could be a little more faithful and optimistic when my bumps come!!  I know I would be a lot happier not being so afraid of what's ahead!  And you can just forget about the analogy of my eating the chocolates.  I love chocolate and have eaten far too much of it this summer.  In fact, I've been known to bite around the icky ones, and render them inedible to even Jerry!  Now that could be an interesting analogy....

Elders Taylor and SantaMaria  after surviving the robbery 

Ruby Fay Morris ready to take on the bumps