May I Have a Card Please...

This is my latest endeavor: putting genealogy on playing cards. I have been wanting to do it for awhile, but just... well, had this great idea, and no direction.

Now, thanks to a M.L.M. aka Multi-Level Marketing company (yes, I acknowledge all your boos and hisses), I found a place that sells playing cards that you can put ANYTHING on. Well, one pic on the back of the deck, and anything you want on the front of the cards. I went to a Heritage Studio party (yes, again, boos and hisses), and saw the deck of cards that had a family reunion pic on the back. Cue light bulb above the head.

Instead of face cards with the four suits, I am doing four generations on each side of our family. I've never seen it done before, and I am so excited for my kids to get to know their heritage. Each family branch gets their own colored background; Dad's side - red, Mom's - yellow and their children(my siblings) get.... ORANGE! :D Because red+yellow=orange. Okay, maybe too kitschy, but you get the idea.

What you see is my Dad's "Grandpapa," with a pic of his business card. I still need to add something about him being a sailor. I know that he had tons of tattoos including one of a ship that covered his whole front torso. If the family asked, he would flex his pecs to make the ship's flag "wave." I'm just not sure that I would... be able to put that on there - but what teenager couldn't relate to THAT ancestor! And NO, you may NOT have a tattoo.

I'll put a hole punch in the corner and string them all to a clamp so that they don't get lost, and then let the kids look through them for church. Or maybe when we're waiting in line for something, or when I tell a story about one of the ancestors,

"Your Great-Great Gramma "Momps" said, 'If there are TWO jobs in this town, I will have one of them!'"

She taught herself how to run a printing press when they were low on funds. My kids should know that about their ancestors.

The surprise in all of this has been to trace family resemblances through the photos. I'm trying to get pics of each ancestor in about their 20s, so you can clearly see "that Danish forehead" in each succeeding generation. I'm adding a flag for country of origin, and toying with an outline of the country as well.

The scary thing is that this has never been done before, and I am worried that I will think of a better way to do it AFTER I've pushed "print." Fifteen bucks down the drain. So, if you have any ideas, post 'em, and if you want to do your own, here is my upline -who will give me free things for your business-: Heidi Arave, heidi@storiesthatlive.com 1.801.491.0966

Yes, yes, BOOO HISSSSSS. You don't have to do it. You can do what I first did and try printing your cards on paper and then taking it to the copy store to hard laminate it. You'll still spend the same. I'm just trying to make my genealogy look a little "classier" on a deck of face cards. Hmmm. I wonder if my staunch Mormon ancestors would approve of me putting their images on a face card. Too late now! And, no, you still may not get a tattoo. Grandpa was at sea when he did that and his mom wasn't there to say "NO!"

Finally Famous

For those who don't know yet... I've been published! Well, that is to say, this blog has been published in "Raising Arizona Kids!" Okay, okay, just a post from my blog regarding medical binders has been published. For those wishing to skip past my anniversary photos, Baby's First Haircut, and sarcastic posts, you can click here to go straight to the post: Tuesday, April 28, 2009

For those who can't believe that anything in my blog actually got published somewhere... well, I don't blame you either. But here's the proof: Getting Control of All That Medical Information Ahhhh, I do believe it's time to get my spray tan and glue-on nails... possibly a wax, so I can greet my public! Enjoy. ;D

Not Dead... Just Resting!

In a family favorite film, "Ishtar," our heroes are in the desert, facing imminent destruction by dehydration - and the vultures are circling. Lyle says to a vulture, "Are you kidding! I'm still movin'!" And so am I. Not dead, noooot dead... just resting!

So what have I been doing for the past month? Well. Lots. Lots of family, lots of summery things, lots of screaming, and lots of plate spinning.

There are things, I have noticed, that impose themselves on a daily routine. Some are expected, like dental appointments, oil changes, laundry, and Visiting Teaching, and some are not. For things that were expected, you knew it was coming, and you just glance at the calendar and realize - oh, I guess that is today.

Then there are things that unhinge a day that weren't on the schedule, but need to find a way to be worked in. Like cleaning the fridge, or the car. You open and shut that door how many times in a day and think, "oh, not today... probably not tomorrow either." I tackled one of them today. It was a toss up between the windows in the van, or the fridge. Fridge is cool on a hot day, so it won.

I open the door to see white film covering everything, including the jam spill congealed in a very back corner and the crumbs from who-knows-what beginning to form a nice Mesozoic layer under the bins. I have been staring at such a mess for too long. The culprit is a leaky gallon of milk that managed to hit/leak on every surface level of the fridge as I moved two gallons around trying to figure out where the leak was. All I got was a jug holder bin filled with milk. GAAAAH!

So, today was the day to take everything out. I hate doing it. Bleh. Messy, cold, and always involving shelves that do not fit in my sink, but which need a de-crusting SOMEHOW. I am annoyed as I'm scrubbing, rubbing, and ultimately taking a bath in the back-n-forth transfers of shelves and bins.

After the inside is deemed respectable, the outside seems to scream "FILTHY!" So, I take another rag and start getting the fingerprints, dirt and I-don't-know-what off the door. The "piece de resistance" is the bottom gutter fan. That part UNDER the doors but above the floor. It has spots, it has grime, it has unspeakable layers of yuck. If I clean it off, I'll also end up doing the floor. Well. Not today. Probably not tomorrow. It's time to pick up the preschooler and prepare for a husband who wants to know what I did with all my free time. Are you kidding me! I haven't been just laying around, I'm still movin'! Nooot dead, not dead! Just resting.

Half, One, Two!

Now you know the secret to a HOST of divine cookies.

1/2 C oil
1 cake mix
2 eggs

Cook: 350 for 10-12 min.

My Sis-in-law Lisa made these with me, and oh YUM! I didn't know such wonderful recipes existed! And so fast! We did a lemon cake mix, with powdered sugar on top, but you can do that strudel topping, or frosting! You can make chocolate ones (add a cup of choc chips to make it worth it), strawberry ones, ginger-y ones! If it's a cake mix, you can make it into a batch of cookies in no time flat! Awesome for fits of PMS. ;D

And, with all of the time you save, you can get real creative, put two together with frosting, ice cream, peanut butter, anything you can think of! Enjoy my little secret, and have fun with it too. I don't think I've had a pink strawberry cookie, but I know I will soon! :D

Daddy's Little Girl...

Sometimes something comes across your vision and you are suddenly surprised at what you are viewing. This happened today as I was sitting in the elementary school library, and a little girl walks into the area. She was probably no more than three. And the more I looked at this little creature, the more I wanted to see who she belonged to. She was wearing light pink cowboy boots, a low slung diaper, and a top that might have looked like a dress to hasty eyes... except that it only really covered her belly button, and had breakfast all over it.

Her hair was completely disheveled - like she'd just climbed out of bed, and the single back button of her top was flopping around looking very forgotten. With some cute shorts, and a bow, this would have been an adorable outfit! It was so funny, I had to wonder. What happened to Mom this morning? So I watched her wander around, and ultimately gravitate to... her dad. *Bing!* It all made sense.

Dad came around the corner looking for the librarian. I got up my courage and said, "Did she pick out her outfit herself today?".
"Yeah."
And he looked at me, and he looked at the little girl - trying to figure out what was so amusing. Clearly, to him, it had passed muster. She had clothes on. She had matching shoes on. It's good! I bet he was questioning himself as he left the house this morning, "Why do women make it so hard? Just put some clothes on the kid and go to the library - it's not that hard!" He went about looking for the librarian, and I continued my search as well.

I looked to see if he had any others with him -ooop yep. That little boy with the bedhead, wrinkly shirt and mismatched shorts must belong. And I'm guessing that this little girl who was looking a little unkempt was part of the set too. Yep, they're all hanging around together. The surprise was his oldest.

Probably a girl of about 9. Matched clothes, clean, tidy, appropriate shoes, and combed hair. Oh yeah. She has caught the vision. You may be Daddy's girl, but when it comes to going out in public, we use Mommy's standards. Made me laugh.... to myself.. not out loud. There are just some things that we don't do in public!

Summertime Summertime...

I love Country Time Lemonade Commercials. The wooden sign, the sun ripened, just-picked-fresh lemons, and the kid in denim overalls pedaling through the summer wheat fields on his red bike with his black dog running alongside.

While old geezers sit laughing on the wrap-around wooden porch sporting suspenders, hats and old-timey glasses, a vibrant grandma in a dress and bunned up hair welcomes our rider back with a tall, cold glass of lemonade. They share an affectionate hug and big smiles while he slurps around the big ice cubes.

And then they tell you that there are only so many days left of summer. How you better slow down and enjoy it. It makes me crave summer. And a leisurely bike ride through wheat fields with a dog.

Something struck me as odd though recently, and I've only just put my finger on it: that is not my summer at all! Summer, with an 8,4 and 1 year old involves a cacophony of crying - A LOT of crying! I started keeping track and realized that it's like the white noise of my summer,
"He hit me..." "She's in my room!" "S/he took my toy/changed the channel/*insert tattling*!"
and it always starts with the siren wail, "Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaam!" There isn't a moments peace. And as for laughing, well, it's only because they caught me, threw me in a straight jacket and a padded room!

Clinging to my idyllic commercial summer, I try to send the kids out for some happy summer memories riding through the asphalt, concrete and dirt. They go out, but then come right back in. Not only can't you go on a bike ride anymore without a helmet - but the nearest wheat field and red bicycle are miles away. And they're hot! And there's bugs.

"Why aren't you outside playing?" The answers are pretty pat.

Well, So and so is at their gramma's (probably with a red bike and wheat field!), and so and so has soccer, and the last-kid play-date option has gone on vacation. There's nothing to dooooOOOOOOOOooooooooooooo. Mom, can I watch Phineas and Ferb, or Dexter's Laboratory?"

"NO! Cartoons are NOT summer! Summer is overalls and outside! Go! Swing! Play! Ride!"

Then comes the knock at the door from an angry man in a mini-van, "Your kids are throwing rocks (crab apples if you look closely) at my car! You need to keep better track of your kids!"

"GET IN THE HOUSE THIS MINUTE!"

I didn't have time to greet them at the door with the tall glasses of lemonade and hugs because the regular household routine is punctuated with more changes of clothes and swimwear, otter pops dripping through the beige carpet, and mysterious messes that "I don't know" keeps making.

That's not to say that I'm not rushing to the door. Apparently ding-dong-ditching is big here. But we're on a hill, and the computer sits in the bay window right next to the door. Even though the kids have learned to pull up their t-shirt up around their nose as a disguise -I can still see them approaching AND running away when I'm on the computer.

I can tell it's those kids from two houses up & I don't bother to open the door to give them the satisfaction. I'm like an old geezer, and am just waiting to hear that my house has been deemed "haunted" or that some "old witch" lives here as I'm tempted to holler out at them, "You darn blasted kids stay outta my yard!"
Summer feels like it is dragging on FOREVER. When is this OVER!

I feel like Ralphie Parker who discovers the truth about his Annie decoder pen,
"BE SURE TO DRINK YOUR OVALTINE.... Ovaltine?"
"It's a crummy commercial?! Son of a b*****!"

And I too leave the world a sadder, yet wiser mom. Crummy commercial...

Happy Anniversary!

Today marks our 11th Anniversary. At this time 11 years ago, I was winding up the California coast in my wedding dress with a hot groom in a two seater Honda CR-X. It had been a long day, a bit overcast, but perfect for photos. We had family and grandparents with us at our sealing in Oakland Temple, and dear dear dear friends. Since then, we've spent quite a few anniversaries apart, so it's nice to have one together this year. The children and I all went out to Thanksgiving Point to have a picnic with Matthew between rain and hail storms. And that about summarizes our first decade. Grab the good times while you can, it looks like hail!

In 11 years, we've racked up some amazing tallies. We have:
Lived in 5 different states
Attended school in two
Moved our family at least 12 times
Have three kids - each one about 4 years apart
Together visited Europe, and Matthew went to South America,
and we have more friends than we can count.

What a wild ride! And its not over yet. Hang on darling, we've got another decade ahead...
It's overwhelming - almost to tears - to select pictures over this time frame and realize how much we've done together. Matthew is my best friend. He's a wonderful provider, an excellent father, and someone you want in the foxhole with you.

Cheers darling, I love you!