Wednesday, December 26, 2007

Who IS Bethlehem?

The Andersons were recruited to sing a song for the Christmas sacrament meeting program on Sunday. We were assigned "There Was Starlight on the Hillside," a Primary song that I had never heard, but which ended up being quite lovely. The plan was for all of us to come up to the pulpit and sing, with the girls standing in front, just seen over the top of that podium barrier (do you know what I'm talking about?), maybe singing, maybe not. However, once up in front of the congregation, Olivia begged to be held by Annie. And then Mimi needed to be held, too. Annie was trying to not create a scene, so she attempted to pick up Mimi as well, but that was not going to work, so I took her. (This isn't making sense, but I'm trying to set the scene.)
I was also the choir pianist, and a little bit stressed about not making any mistakes, and keeping the songs in the right order. (A futile worry, since immediately after our family song, I played the entire introduction to the wrong song, and had to start over. So embarrassing.) Anyway, so I picked Mimi up and started to sing. She started singing the first few words, but then she had questions. She tried, ever so reverently, to whisper those questions in my ear, but I ignored her and kept singing. So, she became more agressive. She grabbed my face and pulled it to her. I pulled my face back. Finally, she used both hands to grab my cheeks and make me face her. Then she said (normal volume, in front of the microphone) "Who IS Bethlehem?" I started to giggle.
I hope we won't be asked to sing again.

Monday, December 24, 2007

How a Dad plays in the snow with his girls

"Dad, Dad, come outside with us."
"Okay, I'm coming."
"Dad, look at the snow. Ooh, it tastes good."
"Yuck, don't eat that. That's where dogs pee."
"This is how you make a snowball, girls."
"Better run faster next time, Mimi."
The girls loved it--probably even more than all the hours I've put in dragging them up and down the street in a sled. Just goes to show, it doesn't pay to play nice.

Wednesday, December 19, 2007

She could have danced all night

Can you imagine the absolute delight of Mimi when this vision in pink floated down the stairs to dance with her? And they were dancing to all the princess music. Annie made a CD of Disney princess songs for Mimi for her birthday. It's the best dancing music ever.
I wasn't allowed to join in, me being in jeans and all. (That's why Annie dressed up. She had previously been banned from the ball for being inappropriately dressed.) Oh well, I guess that's what happens when your house is ruled by a princess.

Friday, December 14, 2007

What we've been doing

Well, (and when I write that, I want to write "well, well, wells", but the pun is bad enough when it's only in the title of our blog) I've been down with that nasty fever/chills flu (or whatever it is, malaria, maybe?) for quite a while. But I'm back, now, and look what we've done.
I think these gingerbread kits are genius. Every time I've attempted the gingerbread house from scratch, it's been a disaster. But all the hard parts are done when you buy a kit. I did the icicles and the wreath (and most of the icing placement of the rest). My brother did that little blue gingerbread man. Liv did the tree, and my cousin Elli (Liv's age, but my cousin, kinda weird) did the snowman that is obscured with the black drippiness. She and Dallin were attempting a black top hat, and it was a good idea that just didn't work.
Aren't these little girls darling? That's Elli, and she was so incredibly proud of our gingerbread house.
It's so nice to have Elli here in Monticello. My girls have no cousins on my side, and mostly older cousins on John's side, so to have my cousins as such perfect playmates when we come home is wonderful! There's been tons of snow here, and all the girls are great sports about playing outside. They come back in numb and frozen, like little blue bumps, but happy as can be. I love winter!

Saturday, December 8, 2007

Pride Goeth Before

The following post has been copied from my family's blog. It was written by my dad, and makes me laugh so hard. We are, obviously, now in Monticello, having made it through 7 of our 10 scheduled interviews. All editorial comments to my dad's post will be made in italics.

On Wednesday, Emilee came into the house, very upset. She had tried to back the gold Cobalt (my dad's work car) out of the garage and driveway and had caught the front bumper cover on the back of the pickup (my mom's paper-delivering vehicle), which was parked South of the driveway. The bumper cover, the headlight, and the wheel cover were all torn off. I took advantage of the disaster to emphasize a point I had always wanted to make, that cars should not be parked South of the driveway, because we either block Juan's (our neighbor's) driveway or ours, "and this is exactly the result."

The Cobalt damage was restricted entirely to plastic parts, and with John's able assistance (more than anything John likes to find car parts and fix broken cars--the reason why he liked surgery so much), I think we can assemble everything we need to fix it for less than the deductible, and save reporting it to the insurance company.

This morning, I started up the Tahoe (my parent's very large SUV) to help Dallin (my youngest brother) deliver papers. The windows were frosted, so I improvised a scraper to clear a little space right in front of me, reasoning that I would soon defrost the windows. I backed out of the driveway and then cranked the wheel to the right to head up the street. I had been cautious about backing out, so I was not far out in the street. My left wheel went up over the curb. I was just thinking how that was no big deal, when my front bumper hit Em's van, breaking the grille and denting the hood. John had parked the van North of the driveway the night before in strict adherence to my new rule (I had reminded him of the rule when we had come back from his parents' ward party), which I now wish I had never made.

Don't get me wrong. I still believe it is a bad idea to park South of the driveway unless you are an excellent driver and parker. Which John is. And, apparently, I am not.