Monday, May 17, 2010

A Tale Not for the Faint of Heart

Not so long ago in a land called Liberty's Rental Home (better known as Land of Old-Not-Energy-Efficient-Due-to-Cracks-and-Crevices-Around-You-Name-it), a beautiful, svelte warrior girl (it's just a TALE, remember and I can't stand the word woman)lived. She was a bit worn out from all the battles fought this past month. Her assistant, a dashingly handsome, strong assistant, had been off-duty during the day so that he might battle an evil oil spill, threatening the welfare of the town's folk, by night. This left the girl to face and win many battles on her own: the Fecal Prince, leaving his mark every where he went, the Trash Mouth, who slung barbed insults like stones and Nebulous Noise, who crept here, there, everywhere wearing down the girl with its loud, yet sneaky maneuvers.

Just when she had conquered her foes and thought to relax, her assistant was called away again. This time, he was needed in far-away Virginia, to complete the deed of Closing on the House. And so the warrior girl was left to herself. This tale is not of her battle with Car Quitting on a Hill in Torrential Rain. No, it is of a more devious, yet smaller, enemy come to prey: Little Winged Insects.

On a cloudy, humid night after a couple days of rain, little winged termites come out to play around town. They form swarms of moving, wiggling insects, creeping, crawling over everything they come in contact with. These things are drawn to light and will find any way to get there. The tired warrior girl had just finished painting a dresser (a fabulous shade of black) and sent her young beasties off to bed after a quick FHE (natives were too restless). She had her little beastette hanging on as she puttered around the house putting away laundry and picking up random toys. As she moved around the house, she noticed a couple of insects flying around the dining room light. Hmmm. When she walked into the kitchen, there were a few more around that light. She brushed away an errant hair and noticed it wasn't a stray curl, but a winged enemy flitting around her head. Arrggh! Moving speedily into the living room, she saw movement all over the couch, wall, chair...everywhere! The enemy was infiltrating her fortress (ramshackle as it was) and moving in quickly. This meant war! Brushing away tears of frustration, the brave warrior pulled out her trusty Dyson, small yet powerful, and went to battle. Every click of the hose as the insects were sucked in, brought a frown of disgust to her face. Uggh, but she was determined to win. In a lull of movement and after a hasty call to her assistant, who proved useful with a little advice after chortling way too much, the girl taped around the windows and pushed rugs against the doors. Click, click, click. She was sucking the winged insects as they flew through the air. Cleaning the enemy off of the stove, around the baseboards, from the furniture, the end was in sight. Ahhh...lights off, a lamp on to help draw them in and she was able to pick off the stragglers as they flew. Another battle won, the only injuries the heebie-jeebie goosebumps and a lingering feeling of bugs crawling on her...

The warrior girl is tired...she needs a break.

Sunday, May 16, 2010


"I know you really don't believe me now, Mom, since I lie a lot. So, I decided that I won't lie anymore...starting tomorrow."


Monday, May 10, 2010

My Little Theologian

Kit has been working nights due to the oil mess in the Gulf, so we were on our own for FHE. I decided to go fun and easy and set up "game night". We ate sandwiches and chips around the Sorry board. Jos looks closely at the board after we had been playing for a little while.

"You know Mom, Sorry is like the plan of life."
"Oh? How's that?"
"You start off in a safe spot, like the pre-existence, then you go on earth, where you are beat up on, then you get back home when you're done and you're safe there!"

Leave it to my son to teach me a spiritual lesson for FHE.

Saturday, May 1, 2010


My youngest son is quite the little pill lately. He has been keeping me hopping...unfortunately over dirty underwear, toys he has pulled off the shelves, pieces of paper he has "cuttin' up" and other random paraphernalia. To remember the craziness that is Gunnison, I thought I'd share a few little funnies with you.

We've been working with Gunner to fold his arms and close his eyes for the prayer. He knows what to do, he's been doing it forever, but lately has been refusing to participate. So, one evening at dinner, we reminded him to fold his arms. He opened his large blue eyes (even wider than they normally are), spread his arms open, palms up and declared, "I can't! I'm sorry, I just can't!" He looked so ridiculously serious, as if he simply couldn't fold his arms and close his eyes.

Another prayer incident occurred at church. We were sitting in the foyer, due to loud naughtiness, when it came time for the closing prayer. I told him to close his eyes and fold his arms. He dutifully crossed his skinny little arms and squeezed his eyes shut...only for them to pop open immediately. He exclaimed a little too loudly, encouraging snickers from other foyer-parents, " It's too dark behind my eyes! It's just too dark!" This has become a common refrain at prayer. He has even gone so far as to ask for a light due to the darkness behind his eyes.

I don't know if I have mentioned how very into Star Wars my boys are. Seriously into it. Gunner knows who Bubba Fett, Hans Solo, Jabba, Leia, etc. are. He knows WAY more than I do. His love for Star Wars plays a part in his imaginary play, choice of toys and daily life (he'll pretend his fork is a light sabre and attack his food or brothers with it). Anyway, so the other Sunday we were out in the foyer due to loud naughtiness (hmmm...might there be a trend here?) and I was making him sit on my lap and be still. The rule is: outside of the chapel you are still in trouble and required to sit still and be reverent until you can go in and be reverent. So we were perched on the couch and I decided to tell him the story of David and Goliath-thinking he would appreciate the violence in the tale. He was so into it! He was listening intently and really focusing on my telling of it (I was being fabulous, with animated voices, expressions, the works). Congratulating myself on being an A+ mother, I get to the part where David is standing up to battle against Goliath. "David pulls out his trusty sling, puts in a rock, swings the sling once...twice...a third time and lets the stone fly! Gun, what do you think happens next?" The reply was given with his oh-so-wide eyes, " Darth Vador comes?!" Unfortunately for my premature back-patting, Gunner lost interest with the story once he heard my answer. If only Darth Vador was featured in the Bible and Book of Mormon, my kids would be all over reading the scriptures!