Life Imitating Art

So we had a dilemma. One we were able to avoid last year because we spent the holidays in Utah. The problem: our fake tree does not fit in our old, lower-ceilinged house. Having grown up with a real tree, I already have a few problems with owning an artificial tree, so the thought of buying a second fake tree was an issue. Well, we started a new New York tradition thanks to the suggestion from a friend. We visited a local tree farm and cut our own tree. (There are definite perks to living out in the country.)

Perhaps waiting until the 17th is cutting it a little close, but we wanted to wait until Randal came home from his looooong trip. We picked him up from the airport and headed to the tree farm, hoping to make it there before the sun went down.

We made it. We had a great time. And now we have a beautiful, yet sorta ugly (perfect, tree symmetry is argualbly an advantage with the fakies) living tree.

Fun fact: John, from the tree farm, told us it takes 14 years to grow a tree this tall. They plant 2500 trees every year and sell about 800.

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The thought occured to me. Our little excursion was, in fact, a case of life imitating art. Last year, Randal's parents gave us this picture for Christmas:

Because the children looked so much like Ethan and Addie they thought it was the perfect gift to commemorate our first Christmas in the New England area. We love it. Now the picture seems even more fitting.

I wonder if the three-year-old girl in the painting screamed and yelled at her older brother to let her pull the heavy tree, "all by myself!" too. Because ours did.

Now we have our dad back and everything is right with the world again. We hope you're having a very, merry Christmas whether it be fake or real.

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PS--I posted very little while Randal was away. I'm still not sure why that is, but I will soon make amends. Both my mom and my dad came to visit. I have the best parents in the world and have alot to say about the time we spent with them. Stay tuned.

R&R (Rest and Renovation)

As I said, Randal has been gone for quite some time. He did fly home for a whirlwind Thanksgiving weekend. And this was the aftermath:


Yes, that is our first floor ceiling.
Yes, that is Randal's foot.
And no, we were not planning on remodeling that part of the house. It just happened.

Catch-Up

Only one post in all of November. Shameful. Well, I'm back from my self-imposed exile.

There's two reasons for the absence.

First, Randal has been gone for six weeks. And in the meantime the kids and I have been hybernating.

But mostly: I hate Internet Explorer.

Something really wonky is going on with our computer. Firefox isn't working. The computer keeps freezing. And so one month later, I find myself out of the habit.

If I'm honest, there is a third reason. I think the honeymoon phase with my blog is now over. I need to redefine our relationship.

An Update

Ethan

1. Recently bore his testimony in Sacrament Meeting for the first time. He wrote out what he wanted to say beforehand and bravely delivered a wonderful testimony. I was so proud of him.

2. Now owns his very first pairs of boxer/brief underwear. He is feeling very proud and very grown up in his "dad" underwear. Three days in a row he begged me to let him take an extra pair to school to show his friends just how awesome they are.

3. Is certain the nasty, local buffet is the perfect place to treat our friends to dinner. According to him it is the "best place in the world." I'm thinking we would no longer be able to call them friends if we did.

4. Ethan is so helpful (once I can get him to listen) and is generally a happy kid. I feel so lucky to be his mom.

Adelaide

1. Must have gained 10 pounds in the last few months. All of a sudden she is a burden to carry. Why on earth am I carrying her? You ask. Well, she's my baby and I can't help myself. Plus, she tends to walk rather slowly into Target and it's getting cold!

2. What color is your house? Is her first question for just about everyone. She now associates people by the color of their houses. And you would really make her day if you told her your house is made of brick. That's her favorite.

3. The other day she came to me with a half-eaten Ritz cracker. "Look, Mom," she said, "I ate it into an octagon." It was a pentagon, but I didn't have the heart to break it to her.

4. Despite the fact that this girl has decided to make me the adversary in just about everything, she is still one of the favorite parts of my day.

A Recap

The week brought...

Our dad back home. Yeah!

A class on machine quilting for me with a needed break from home for the evening. Machine quilting is a skill I've always wanted to have but felt I could never learn. Now I'm feeling it's not as allusive as I had imagined. Just needs a lot of practice.

Why the need for a break? The kids were on each other's cases a few times too many this week. Argh. Yet then there would be times like this and I would decide to postpone listing them on Craig's List. (For the time being.)


Our week also brought a Halloween party with the kids and their friends. Everyone seemed to have a great time. The witches brew was the biggest hit. Well, except with little Zoie. She emphatically informed us she was not allowed to drink beer. We assured her it was root beer. She wasn't allowed to drink any kind of beer, she said. After a phone call to her grandma she decided we could be trusted.


And with a break in the weather we were able to visit some nearby waterfalls and enjoy the fall leaves before they are gone.

(Randal and the kids up on the bridge waving.)

These falls are amazing. We're adding them to our list of favorite nearby places. Do they entice you to come and visit?

If you were to come you could help us solve a mystery. We stumbled across a strange hatch in the middle of the woods. We have a few theories...click here.

Sadly, our week ended with Randal leaving again. Hopefully we packed in enough fun to get us through until he comes home; otherwise I may find that hatch again and drop myself in.

Canning is NOT for Sissies

This was Thursday

(Ethan took this pictures by the way. I'm laughing because he wouldn't snap it until I was saying, "cheese!")

Friday

I can recall somewhere between ages 14 and 27 thinking (and possibly repeating out loud) I would never bottle my own food.

Never say never.

Funny how things don't seem so bad the older you get. And with grapes at 20 cents a pound (There, I said it again, Mom. I think I am rubbing it in.) how could I not bottle some grape juice.

I did have some help. But my friend has asked to remain nameless. For some reason she doesn't want to be linked with the hilarity of two rookies juggling boiling hot juice. Thanks, B--. I may have talked myself out of this without you.

Mistakes aside, we ended up with 38 bottles of delicious juice concentrate at say about 50 cents per bottle. (If you're counting the endless cash forked over for juicers, lids, electric bill, etc. it probably worked out to be more like $6.50 a jar. (I'm kidding. (I hope.))

There really were only a few casualties during the learning curve: a burned knuckle and ruining my old karate pants were about it. It's okay, I don't do karate anymore anyway.

Well, there were the ladybugs. I threw them away in the garbage because I felt too busy to let them go outside. What kind of cold, soulless person won't help a sweet, little ladybug to safety? I still feel really bad about that. So I guess you could say our juice did come at a high price.

And this was Saturday

Kicking back and watching Jim and Pam get married made it totally worth it. I got over the ladybugs.

So would I do it again? Next year, Baby! (I've got to get my money's worth out of that juicer.)





Apples? You ask.

What apples?

There are no apples needing to be bottled here. I think you may have my blog mixed up with someone else more motivated than I.





PS--Where was Randal during all of this?

Here.


Okay, not really. But he is traveling for business and missed the entire circus.

Convenient. Very convenient.

Apples To Apples

I remember, as a girl, going to fruit stands with my mom. It seems that in Utah much of that is now gone to make way for growth; so as an adult I haven't been in the same habit. We are now trying to take advantage of the number of places here where we can pick fruits and vegetables. This may just be my favorite part of living in NY. The latest: apples.


The big surprise to me: our kids love it. It was cold and rainy but they did not care. Initially we were going to pick enough apples for eating as I am not the most seasoned canner. But the kids had so much fun and did not want to quit. Now I've got to figure out what to do with all the apples.


This may be the post General Conference high speaking, but Randal and I both commented on what a different feel this kind of family activity had. Our kids seemed to sense it too. We just felt a lot of love for each other, and for Heavenly Father.

(I hope I'm still feeling that way after canning all these darn apples.)