Cookie goes to the pool

My Little Friend loves to go to the pool. He's great about making friends and joining in with whoever else is there and playing Marco Polo, or diving for rings, or tossing the splashball. His super cool torpedo toy didn't last through the winter so I imagine there will be one on his birthday wish list. He's getting pretty good at swimming and can cross the pool with no problem. He loves hanging out in the deep end but as of yesterday still does not love jumping off the diving board.

The Swimming Ool, by Ken Nesbitt

Swimming in the swimming pool

Is where I like to "B,"

Wearing underwater goggles

So that I can "C."

Yesterday, before I swam,

I drank a cup of "T."

Now the pool is just an "ool"

Because I took a "P."

My Little Friend

He says he's "very anticipated".

I know the way he is using the word "anticipated" is not correct. And it almost sounds like he needs to drink some prune juice or something. But you know what?

I'm very anticipated myself.

Have a great day, everybody.

of course, doughnuts

Today was our last day of seminary so I had to get a picture. I've loved these kids so much over the last school year. I already know I'm being released (it sounds like I'm getting out of jail, doesn't it? Set free?) as a seminary teacher and it's a relief in some ways and a gigantic disappointment in other ways. I love my students and I'll miss them terribly.

We shared testimonies, then doughnuts and silliness on our last morning together as a class.

poll time

What if you had a growing pile of cast-off items sitting in the corner of your bedroom? (Suppose for just a minute here that you can't sleep and you feel sort of twitchy when there's a lot of clutter around.)

We're talking about outgrown kids' clothes, kitchen gadgets and small appliances, books, toys, and other various items of little real value but perhaps moderate price?

Would you:

a.) load it all up into your car and drop it off at the Goodwill as soon as possible, thereby losing any possible profit on your unwanted stuff but not having to mess with or look at the pile anymore?

b.) sort, fold, organize and haul it all out to your driveway for a yard sale as soon as there is a Saturday with both nice weather and nothing else on the calendar?

c.) just start sleeping in your kid's room?

an open letter to my Uncle Bob

Dear Uncle Bob,

I like your blog.

I'm interested in your take on the various topics you address, and I think that profile picture of you from the 70's is cool. You had a lot of hair back then. I hope you fully appreciated it while you had it.

I really like that list on the left hand side of your blog's page that shows all the blogs you follow and the titles of their most recent entries. I know those people and I'm interested in their lives. I don't know how you got that on there but it's good and I appreciate it.

I like it when you post pictures of your grandkids. They're cuties.

When I click on your blog to see what's going on in your realm of existence, your royaume d'existence, your page opens up in a new window. I don't know if I configured it that way, or if Blogger did, but it's usually fine. It's convenient actually because then I don't have to backtrack my way back to my homepage when I'm finished. I just close that window.

But sometimes, Uncle Bob, when your blog opens up in a new window, it keeps opening, and opening, and opening. I can't make it stop continuously opening window after window after window. Maybe it would keep opening new windows into infinity? I don't know. Clicking the red X box to close the windows doesn't work, and trying to close it from the Start bar doesn't work either. I have to completely shut down my whole computer to make it stop.

When this happens I find it to be:

• Annoying


• Aggravating


• Frustrating.

I don't know why it happens. I don't know how to make it stop. Do you?

Sincerely,

Your ever-faithful and sometimes-frustrated niece,

AmyWW (AmyDubDub)

ahoy mateys!

I'm in kind of a weird mood today. I'm feeling...well...I'm feeling pirate-y. I have no idea what that means. While trying to identify the exact nature of my strange mood, the word "pirate-y" spontaneously popped up in my head. Argh! Ahoy!

Did you fall in love a little bit more with Johnny Depp when you saw him as Jack Sparrow? I did. Johnny Depp is on the secret boyfriend list. I know he's a little quirky. Or a lot quirky. That's what makes him not just another pretty face.

Although he does have a pretty nice face. Check out his nose. Doesn't that look like a perfect nose? I wonder if Johnny got that nose from God or a plastic surgeon. Either way, it's a nice nose.

America the Beautiful

O beautiful for heroes proved
In liberating strife.
Who more than self their country loved
And mercy more than life!
America! America!
May God thy gold refine
Till all success be nobleness
And every gain divine!

by Katharine Lee Bates

day-trippin', yeah

I'd like a beachy, tropical vacation. Maybe I'll take the kids to Galveston in a couple weeks when school is out. Not that it would be like anything in the picture - the Gulf is not that kind of beautiful. I'm curious to see what changes Ike made to the Island and what's recovered.

Yes, I think a summer-time day trip to Galveston is definitely in order.

Do you remember this poem from your childhood? I loved it when I was little. It rang so true, and I remember loving how its words captured my feelings exactly. Poetry is awesome. Poetry ROCKS.

Bed in Summer, by Robert Louis Stevenson

In winter I get up at night
And dress by yellow candle-light.
In summer quite the other way,
I have to go to bed by day.
I have to go to bed and see
The birds still hopping on the tree,
Or hear the grown-up people's feet
Still going past me in the street.
And does it not seem hard to you,
When all the sky is clear and blue,
And I should like so much to play,
To have to go to bed by day?

crafts and secrets

I know a tiny little secret. I'm keeping it tucked in my pocket and holding it close to my heart until it's ready. I'm calling this little secret "Buttercup".

And oh, the crafting possibilities involved with the secret are endless. Where to start?

(Don't ask me what the secret is - it's not my secret to tell.)

the power of love

It's amazing how a little kindness and encouragement can lift a heart heavy with fear and desperation and help fill it with hopefulness and sunshine again.

Play nice, people. It might be more important than you realize.

sorrow

My friend Cheri lost her husband yesterday. He died several hours after the doctors removed his breathing tube on Tuesday. He only started feeling ill last month - it's been maybe 4 or 5 weeks. What they initially thought was a throat infection that was swelling and interfering with his breathing turned out to be cancer in his lymph nodes, then cancer also in his adrenal glands, then they discovered he had diabetes, and finally late last week they found he also had stage 4 lung cancer.

In the middle of all of this their youngest daughter was married - a very much anticipated and joyous event. Rick missed the wedding because he couldn't leave the hospital so the joy was mingled with great sadness.

I feel so sorry for Cheri and I can only imagine the strength she has needed as she as faced these last few days knowing without a doubt that her husband of 30 or so years was going to die. I can't imagine her thoughts and feelings as she woke up on Tuesday knowing that it was the last day she would spend with Rick.

Rick was such an amazing guy, always ready to give a helping hand. He taught many of the sessions of the CERT class I attended and was a firefighter for decades. He was so funny and so wonderful to Cheri and with all his kids and grandkids.

Cheri is only 5 or 10 years older than I am. I thought it would be a lot longer, 30 or 40 years, before my girlfriends started losing their husbands. It's kind of thrown me for a loop.

I feel sad today. For my dear friend Cheri who has lost the love of her life, and for dear Rick. The world won't be the same without him.

Easy symbolism

I found this cool painting in Google Images depicting part of the vision of John in Revelation 6. We studied Revelation 6 and 7 in seminary today.

All the students knew that a man on a white horse with a crown is a Good Guy. A Victor. A Conqueror.

I thought it was kind of funny - they just knew it. Just like they knew right away that the red horse and a sword symbolized blood and war and the black horse meant death and wickedness.

It reminded me of a time when my boys were little and they played with a toy castle with lots of soldiers and horses and weapons and other castle paraphernalia. The guys in the white armor were always the good guys in their play. The good guys always rode the white horses. The bad guys wore the black armor. Always. I remember asking the boys why the good guys were always the ones in white and the bad guys the ones in black. They looked at me like I was an idiot. For cryin' out loud, that's just the way it is. Duh.


I'm not having any trouble keeping everyone awake and interested and involved in the seminary lessons this week. It's exciting stuff. It's so gratifying to me to help my students work their way through the book of Revelation and to see them understand it. I really do love teaching seminary.

baking

I do love baking. It takes a lot of time and I don't love that about it, but I love creating something wonderful from ingredients. I am interested in the process of turning basic things like flour, yeast, and water into something really outstanding. And tasty. I also think I have a knack for it so that's a bonus. I ordered some new bread-baking books from Amazon last month and have been poring over them. I'm ready to take my baking to the next level.

All that being said, today I'm going to a class about baking artisan bread in 5 minutes a day. The idea is that you start with a no-knead dough that is stored in the refrigerator and you can cut off whatever is needed for your baking that day - loaves of bread, rolls, pizza crust, etc.

I have to say, I'm skeptical. I haven't had a lot of luck with no-knead recipes in the past; the recipes I've tried called themselves "batter bread" and the texture was way off - more like banana bread.

I'll let you know how it turns out. I'm excited to learn a new baking technique. And if I actually do get some really beautiful AND delicious loaves in 5 minutes a day, my family may never eat store-bought bread again.

"hmm..." things, part tre

I bought some new lily roots this past winter and they started blooming this week. The blooms are huge - about six inches across. Look at the color - it's so beautiful.

It's like a creamsicle or a tropical drink. It's like Tang, it's so orange.

I like orange. It's a happy, brilliant color.

But these lilies are supposed to be rosy pink and speckled. It makes me go "hmmm...".

("Tre" is Swedish for "three".)

"hmm..." things, part deux

Here is my Little Friend's bed if I don't make it:

See the comforter on the floor, the rumpled sheets? It doesn't bother him. He's an easy-going sort of guy. He's fine if the bed never gets made. Whatever is just fine with him.

Here is my Little Friend's bed after I make it:

See how I've stacked the pillow with the sham? Here it is again from another angle in case you missed it:

And here are the pillows a few hours later, after my Little Friend has noticed that I made his bed:

See, he doesn't like his pillows stacked. He likes them placed side by side. But only when his bed is made - if the bed is unmade then the pillows can go anywhere: on the floor, stuffed between the bed and the wall, flung across the room, whatever. He's an easy-going kind of guy.

As long as the pillows aren't stacked.

Because stacked pillows are not okay. This makes me go, "hmmm....".

Things that make me go "hmmm...."

I was thinking today about things we might do as a family this summer. One thing that we've enjoyed doing in the past is taking a few days off and driving to San Antonio or Austin and going to the attractions there - amusement parks, museums, natural caverns, movies, restaurants, etc. Nothing too exciting. We always stay in moderately priced hotels and we specifically look for hotels that offer free breakfast in the morning. A pool is nice too.

My kids love staying in a hotel. I mean, they love it. When I say to them, "Would you like to go spend a couple days in San Antonio?" the first thing they say is, "Can we stay in a hotel?" They love it, and I love it too because for some reason they don't argue and bicker, and the contention and sarcasm usually present in their conversations with one another is gone.

So as I was sitting here this morning I was trying to figure out what, exactly, it is about a hotel that they enjoy so much. Here's a list of things I could come up with:

• TV
• Sometimes our rooms have had a game system like Nintendo
• Free breakfast
• Pool
• Somebody else makes the bed
• Free shampoo and soap
• Clean towels and washcloths in the bathroom

You know what? They have all of this stuff at home. Except for the phone books in the bedside table, the credit card-style room key and all sleeping together in one room, a hotel is exactly like home for them. Admittedly when they are at home they do have to walk 1/2 a block down the street to the pool but it's not like they could ever dive off a balcony straight into a pool at the hotels.

It makes me go "hmmm...". Maybe I ought to try storing the phone books in their nightstands. Maybe they'd get along better this summer.

The finish line...

...I can see it, but instead of sprinting, I feel more like I'm staggering toward it. Here's where I whine and complain and gripe and moan. Feel free to skip today's message of doom and gloom.

I'm tired. I'm in pain, every day (these danged broken ribs are still giving me trouble. Argh!). I'm a little frustrated. I'm antsy. I'm premenstrual. I'm anxious. I'm uncertain. I'm conflicted. I'm allergic. All this adds up to - I'm weary. Being weary is different than being tired.

There are bright spots and beautiful scenery along the weary road. Even though seminary is hard right now (I'm tired, the students are tired, I'm distracted, the students are distracted), we started the book of Revelation today. Which means YAY! we are almost done! and also a lot of WOW! that's so cool!

I've had lots of A-ha! moments while studying and preparing for these Revelation lessons. These moments are thrilling and also scary. (Scary because it becomes more and more clear to me as I study, and pray and think and reflect, that the gospel is true - so I better get my act together because this ain't no dress rehearsal - it's the real thing.)

Another thing that is both hard and wonderful is my son's approaching departure for his mission. I'm thrilled he's going. I'm happy that he's going to Sweden. I'm uncertain of how he'll be received there and how he'll handle the challenges. I'm conflicted because I'm not going to see him for two years. I'm also concerned because, for example, he still doesn't seem to have quite got the hang of getting the wet towel hung up on the towel hook after he showers. We've been working on it for nearly two decades but he's still not quite there yet. There may be a mountain of wet towels in Sweden before he leaves. Maybe they'll call it Mount Dub. It'll smell bad there on Mt. Dub.

There are other examples of this kind of thing but that will suffice. Basically it boils down to "Have I done everything I needed to do to teach him how to be an independent and functioning adult?" And the answer, most clearly, is no.

Allergies are awful. Miserable. How many times a day can one person blow her nose before her face implodes? Itchy eyes, itchy nose, itchy ears, itchy throat. Drip, drip, drip.

Seminary ends in two weeks. I have nine more seminary days. I can do anything nine times, right?

I need some sleep. I need some fun. I need summer break. It's coming - I can see it. And I'm staggering toward it.

If you read to the end of this, bless you. Here's something just for you:

Friends again

"I love daisies. They're so friendly. Don't you think daisies are the friendliest flower?" ~Kathleen Kelly in You've Got Mail

We are friendly again over here at AmyDubDub's house. Crisis has passed (past?), amends have been made, serenity rules.

Thanks in large part to the sweet and tranquil words of a good friend - you know who you are!

Lillian knew.

Lillian Carter once said, "Sometimes when I look at all my children, I say to myself, 'Lillian, you should have stayed a virgin'."

How crazy can one mama get? Apparently we're having an experiment over here at the Dub house to find out.

Adventures with B.B. Thornton

The Pretty Girl is here visiting us for a couple of days. Yesterday she and I were driving to the library and as I pulled up to stop at a red light I noticed that the van was pulling hard to the right. While we were waiting for the light to turn green I noticed that the dashboard was seriously slanting down to the right. And as the light turned green and we started moving again, I heard a sound. A sound you don't want to hear. A bad sound.

We had a flat tire.

Lots of things went through my mind. Things like:

• Mr. Dub is at work.


• Even if I call him and he can leave immediately it will take him forever to get here from work.


• It's stinking hot and I'll probably die of heat stroke before he could get here.


• The Little Biggy is at home.


• But probably has never changed a flat.


• And I'd have to stand out in the heat and walk him through it.


• And he might not drop everything and rush over here immediately.


• So I might as well put on my big girl panties and do it myself.

My Pretty Girl and I dug out the owner's manual just in case we needed it. We found the secret compartment where the jack is hidden. We found the hex nut that has to be turned to lower the spare tire out from under the van and we got the spare tire off and ready to go. We figured out how to get off the cover that hides the lug nuts. We got the lug nuts loosened a little. We placed the jack in the right spot. We got the jack going and raised the van enough to take off the lug nuts and get the tire off the van. We lifted the flat tire into the back of the van. We got the spare tire ready to go on.

(Let me just say here that it was hot. And the lug nuts were hot hot. And the tire was hot hot hot. We were dripping with sweat, filthy, and our fingers and hands were scorched. We were a couple of lady-like visions of feminine beauty, let me tell you. When I got home I discovered I had a big black smudge on my face where I'd wiped the sweat out of my eyes with my filthy dirty hands. Nice. Lovely.)

While we were standing there trying to figure out which side of the spare tire should face out, someone stopped to help us. This man:

That's Billy Bob Thornton, folks. And while I've always thought that Billy Bob was kind of a freak, it turns out that he's super nice. He's also working at Station 8 of the Cy-Fair Volunteer Fire Department.

Who knew?

Billy Bob was able to tell us which side of the spare tire faces out. In fact, he put it on for us, tightened the lug nuts, un-jacked the van, and said that while we obviously had everything under control and didn't need any man to help us, he was happy to.

That Billy Bob Thornton, he's a good guy. Although I was a little surprised to find him fighting fires and changing tires in Cypress, Texas on a hot summer day.

Chivalry is alive and well in Texas. And looks just like Billy Bob Thornton.

Here's a tip for all my friends: Get somebody to tell you today which side of the spare tire faces out. Just in case, you know?

Handmade

"Every knitter stitches with love, even when they're just starting, all red-faced and frustrated. Why else would we create? Especially in a world that doesn't need handmade anything. That's when we need homemade everything. It never matters if things don't end up just the way you planned...When you wear something you've made with your own hands, you surround yourself with love, and all the love that came before you. The real achievement, you see, is being proud of what you've made." ~ The Friday Night Knitting Club, by Kate Jacobs

"And God saw everything that he had made, and behold, it was very good." ~ Genesis 1:31

I feel this way about the things I've created by hand. The people of the world don't need my handmade anything, but I'm sending it out into the world anyway. Because of love, and because of all the love that came before me.

Behold.

A girl's story, short.

Once upon a time there was a very cute baby girl. When this baby girl grew up, she had some babies of her own. The grown-up girl and her babies had lots of experiences and adventures together.

Some of those times were happy. Sometimes they were sad. Through it all the grown-up girl was there, doing her best, and loving her babies.

This story isn't over yet. More babies have been born into this cute girl's family, and there are even more babies yet to be born. The cute girl is still here, doing her best, and loving the babies.

Thanks Mom. I love you. I hope you have a very happy day.

Raid

No, not that kind of Raid.

My Pretty Girl is coming home for Mother's Day and Mr. Dub's birthday on Monday. I love it when she comes home. She's so cute and fun and sweet and it makes me happy just to look at her face.

When the Pretty Girl's visits are over and she's ready to go back to her house, she raids my bathroom closets. She plunders my bathroom closets. Soap, shampoo, deodorant, toothpaste, razors, and whatever else she can find. Then she comes up to me with a plastic bag full of these items and says oh so sweetly, "Is it okay if I take some things?"

She's adorable.

I better go make sure I have everything she might like before she gets here.

("Raid" doesn't look like a real word to me.)

Psalms 24

Psalms 24:3-5

3 Who shall ascend into the hill of the Lord? or who shall stand in his holy place?

4 He that hath clean hands, and a pure heart; who hath not lifted up his soul unto vanity, nor sworn deceitfully.

5 He shall receive the blessing of the the Lord, and righteousness from the God of his salvation.

I'm so grateful that my beautiful son has clean hands and a pure heart. That he is worthy to "ascend into the hill of the Lord". That he "shall stand in his holy place". My hopes and prayers for him are that he remains righteous always and receives all the blessings of the Lord.

I am filled with joy at the opportunity to be in the holy temple with my child as he prepares himself to begin his mission to Sweden.

Obsessed

Mr. Dub and I went to this movie a couple of weeks ago. It was a fun movie! The story is that a temp (played by Ali Larter) becomes, you guessed it, Obsessed with the guy she works for. It's scary watching how she justifies everything in her mind and twists and turns every single encounter with the guy. Ali Larter played the Brooke Taylor Windham part in Legally Blonde although it took a while for us to figure out where we'd seen her. Beyonce is nothing but fierce in this movie. I think it's the first one I've seen her in. I'm telling you that girl can kick butt. Idris Elba plays the faithful family man and the target of the temp.

One of the best parts of the movie was watching it with lots of Beyonce fans. They were absolutely hilarious.

I give Obsessed two thumbs up.

Oh, and Idris Elba? Ay caramba. He's definitely on the potential secret boyfriend list. Here's why:

The Raspberry

Ah, the raspberry. So juicy. So fruity. So sweet and tart at the same time.

There's another kind of raspberry and it's this kind that inspires wrath in the hearts of boys. Sit back, get comfy, and hear the tale of the raspberry.

A few years ago, when my Little Friend and the Little Prince were still sharing a bedroom Mr. Dub and I had a lot of trouble with them staying up too late talking, playing, arguing, and just generally goofing off instead of hushing and going right to sleep. Oh, we tried to hush them. We begged and pleaded. We commanded. We yelled and threatened. All we really wanted was for them to just go to sleep at night. All we really wanted was quiet at the end of a long day.

Peace and quiet. It's still all we really want.

On one night, the usual talking, goofing, and arguing was happening in the boys' bedroom. I had told, begged, commanded, and yelled for them to hush. The time came, like the time usually does, that at some point someone has to get up out of the comfy chair, hike up the stairs, and make the kids do what they're told. Mr. Dub was the lucky one who got up, hiked, and went in to see what was going on.

Kids, being kids, always place the blame on the other kid. It was no different this time, and as any parent with a little experience knows, you have to move away from determining who is at fault and proclaim that it doesn't matter who is doing the talking, goofing, and arguing, everybody needs to settle down and be quiet. Quiet was obtained, and Mr. Dub, no doubt feeling triumphant, left the room. My Little Friend instantly erupted into tears, rage and fury, and Mr. Dub, not five feet from the bedroom door, went back to see what had happened to the peace and quiet that had been there only moments before. It turns out that the Little Prince had given the raspberry to my Little Friend as soon as Mr. Dub had left the room. As in, "He did 'phbbt' to me!"

The raspberry, my friends, is not to be borne. You cannot let a thing like that pass without immediate and severe retribution.

Word Lover's Paradise

Jabberwocky, by Lewis Carroll

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"

He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought-
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.

"And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O, frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!"
He chortled in his joy.

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.


Hope your day is beamish and frabjous! (I'm feeling frumious myself. It's a good day to hide out at home. I'm having a Jabberwock moment, and it's best to keep that kind of thing to yourself.)

Deep thoughts. And shoes.

I've been thinking deep thoughts all weekend. Until I get them all sorted out and organized and ready to share with you I will be sharing some funny memories, ideas, poetry, and cartoons. To balance things out. To lighten things up. To make you laugh. Because that's what I'm here for.

A Closet Full of Shoes
by Shel Silverstein

Party shoes with frills and bows,
Workin' shoes with steel toes,
Sneakers, flip-flops, and galoshes,
Boots to wear with mackintoshes,
Brogans, oxfords, satin pumps,
Dancin' taps and wooden clumps,
Shoes for climbin', shoes for hikes,
Football cleats and baseball spikes,
Shoes of shiny patent leather,
Woolly shoes for winter weather,
Loafers, rough-outs, sandals, spats,
High heels, low heels, platforms, flats,
Moccasins and fins and flippers,
Shower clogs and ballet slippers...
A zillion shoes and just one's missin'-
That's the one that matches this'n.

Nineteen

This little guy is having a birthday today. It's been quite an adventure with him and I'll never forget what a sweet boy he was. (There's a little bit of sauce mixed in with the sugar - you can even see it in his eyes in this photo.)

I hope your next nineteen years are as great as the last nineteen have been, my son. I know you'll go far if you listen to and follow your good heart.

Happy Birthday! You've made my life interesting and I'm glad to the bottom of my heart that you are my son.

Min pojke skal Sverige!

(My boy is going to Sweden!)


Taylor, I hope you have great success and a memorable adventure! May the Lord bless your efforts and strengthen your resolve to live the gospel and serve the Swedish people with love and enthusiasm.

April Mittens

In the month of April I knitted six pairs of mittens. I think that brings my total to 33 pairs.

My knitting skills are improving and I'm starting to think that I might be able to finish Gram's last project - a baby sweater for my cousin's baby. My grand-dad asked me to finish it when Gram died but I wasn't a good enough knitter to do it. I think I might be now although I don't think I'll be able to get a picture knitted into the front of it like Gram always did. That's still a project to tackle in the future - I think I should just get the thing done before baby Rachel grows too big to wear it.

Gram was in the hospital when Rachel was born. She had a photo of newborn Rachel near her hospital bed. I remember that she wanted so desperately to finish the sweater she'd started for Rachel but she just didn't have the strength.

I hope that Gram would be pleased for me to finish it.