If You Give A Boy A Piano Book...

...filled with songs by composer John Williams,


not only will he be excited to learn to play them - but you will also never have to remind him to practice.


In fact, you may have to ask him to not practice sometimes.


Like before school when the littlest kids are still asleep.


Or when he's supposed to be doing homework.


(Best Christmas gift, ever!)

Seasons

Lately I've been thinking.

I've been thinking about a lot of things.

I've been thinking about being pregnant for the last time and trying to think of a way to express my feelings over the matter. Words fail me.

I have realized that as Curly passes through each stage and age it is the last time I will be experiencing it with a little girl. Why is this difficult?

I have wondered what it will be like to have my children leave for college and life beyond our home. Are they ready?

I have been noticing the unique and shared traits of each of my children and how some of them are distinctly from me and others are definitely from their dad. This makes me happy.

I have even thought about my blog - how I wish that when I started posting over 3 years ago I had taken more time to thoughtfully choose a blog name and address. (Gerb in the 'Burbs is so much more catchy than the boring Life As I Know It.)

I have thought of various things I could write about or take pictures of.

I think about relationships with family and friends. I wish I could choose a different person to visit with every single day. I wish I had more time for others.

I think much of who I have become in the last 20 years. I have not changed a whole lot in appearance but the core of who I am and what I think has gone through a complete transformation. And yet - I am really pretty much the same person I have always been. This confuses me.

I wonder if I will ever go to New York or Australia. I wonder if I will be disappointed with either if I do.

Like a child on the night before her first trip to Disneyland, I am filled with anticipation, nervousness and excitement over our plans for Halloween.

I understand that I am an introvert a great deal of the time and an extrovert the rest of the time. I do not understand what brings out either end of this personality spectrum. I wish I knew.

I cannot fathom our home ever being diaper-free. I wonder if I'm ready for that time.

I wonder if I have my priorities arranged correctly.

I realize that I love music, but because of this love for music I often cannot listen to it. Every song, every word that holds a memory for a time or situation in my life inspires some sort of emotion. There are certain emotions that are best left alone.

I keep trying to think of ideas of things to write on my kids' lunchbags each day. After 5 years of writing jokes, I ran out. I started writing inspirational thoughts but these do not go over as well.

I think about others often. Are they happy? Are they well? Are they eating something delicious and not telling me about it?

I worry that I am selfish. I worry that I am lacking. I worry that I worry too much.

I love that we get new family pictures every year. I have been wondering what colors and themes we should try for this time around.

I think about life, I think about death. I find beauty and sadness in both.

I have been watching the clouds and the mountains as the seasons change.

I suppose that what I am trying to say is that I have been doing a whole lot of thinking - and not much writing. I am hoping to turn this around soon, to transform this jumble of thoughts into words...

I figured this was the best way to start.

Yesterday

Yesterday was busy. There was a beautiful funeral for my dear Aunt Sandra who passed away last week and then the impromptu family reunion that always takes place after such events. All in all, it was a wonderful day and I was once again reminded of how amazingly blessed I am to have married into such an awesome family.

I also posted at 4P yesterday, but I was too busy to remind you to click over there to read it. But I'm reminding you now, and you know how the saying goes: better late than never! It's definitely not my usual blog fodder, but I just couldn't resist...

If you know who this is (I didn't until a few days ago), I hope you think I'm kidding. But I'm not.

Michael Buble LIVE!

After hearing for the past couple of years that it was worth getting a second mortgage on your home just to see Michael Buble perform live, we jumped at the chance to purchase tickets last December. I may have even joined his fan club simply for the opportunity to purchase advance tickets before they were available to the general public. (I totally did.)

The seats were secured and looked up online. We found a picture which showed that our seats were here:

Just to the right of the stage in the upper concourse, only 3 rows back. Best seats we'd ever had at a concert!

The night of the concert we dragged out my birthday a bit more by leaving early and seeing "How To Train Your Dragon" in 3D. Loved it. If it had some political agenda or underlying message, I didn't catch it. This is a fun flick to take your kids to - although the scarier dragons might freak them out a bit at first...

I realized after we left the house that I had forgotten my camera. Blast it all!! However Allen reminded me that I now had a fancy-schmancy phone with picture-taking abilities, so all was not lost. However, the photo quality is not super awesome. But, alas, there are pictures. AND video.

We went for dinner and then headed to the venue. And here I'd like to give a little (sarcastic) shout-out to the architect who designed the E-Center and its parking lot. Can we say CONGESTION?! Holy mackerel... there were cars lining every road to the E-Center for MILES! We were starting to wonder if we'd even make it in before the crooning began. Luckily my friend Cami had arrived plenty early and was giving me updates via cell phone. We had not missed Mr. Buble yet. The opening act took nearly a full hour, thank goodness, and we got in for their last 2 songs before the lights came back up and we had to wait a bit for the MB show to begin.

Here is a picture of the opening-act guys. I can't remember their name except that it was (Something) 7. And they were full of energy and super talented.

But, wait, Gerb... you're wondering, how did you get such great pictures of the stage with seats on the third row in the upper concourse?

Maybe because it turns out that our seats were on the third row in the LOWER CONCOURSE!! As in, right by the stage! As in, Michael Buble could LOOK RIGHT AT US if he wanted to! Happy birthday to me from the E-Center!! (I may even forgive them for the parking fiasco. Because these seats were AWESOME!!)

The lights went down, the music started and the crowd went crazy!



And then, there he was. Just singing and talking to all 10,000+ of us like we were a couple of his friends. To start off he made a couple of off-color jokes but as soon as he noticed a young girl in the front row, he switched gears. He asked her name, introduced himself as 'Mike' and thanked her for coming to his concert.

He talked to the crowd quite a bit, telling us about his newest engagement and about how much he hated concerts as a kid because they were always so boring and stuffy. Which is why he does his best to make the crowd a part of his concerts. About halfway through he proved his point by making his way out through the audience...



And ending up on a stage near the back of the venue. He started by saying, "Everyone back here paid for their tickets, too." He then sang a couple of songs there with his guitar player accompanying.


He made his way back to the main stage and shared a few more songs with us. Michael sang one of my favorite of his songs, Everything. If you listen closely, you will be rewarded at the end with Allen's "la la la la laaaaaa la la la" solo.



I didn't want to post a bunch of his songs since you can watch the videos on YouTube, minus the screaming fans, but I decided to post another one. You don't have to watch it, I'll never know. But here he is singing Haven't Met You Yet.



Just when we thought it couldn't get any better, he pulled off this little impression of someone he claimed to always have wished he could sing and dance like...



Before we knew it, he was leaving the stage.


And of course, after the crowd screamed for an encore, he returned for a couple more songs.

And confetti for everybody!

This concert ranks among my favorites. I think that part of what made it so great was the AWESOME SEATS!! (in case you forgot about that little tidbit) but also the full orchestra onstage with him. It's one of the reasons I used to love (old-school) Oingo Boingo. Their concerts were amazing with the varied live accompaniment. You don't get a whole lot of that anymore, and I love it.

This concludes my awesome birthday.

Thanks for enjoying it with me.

Youth Dances: Then and Now

(photo from primarytimes.net)

Allen and I were asked to help chaperone a youth dance for our church last Saturday.

Can you say: awesome?

First off, I will admit that it has been nearly 2 decades since I have attended one of these functions as a youth. Since that time, the dances have seen their share of changes. These are my observations...

THEN: Popular radio DJs were hired to play the latest dance music and a small fee of $2-$3 was charged to cover the bill.

NOW: A local church member was hired to play the latest 'jump' music (more on that later) and admission is always free.

THEN: Chairs lined the walls of the gym and girls sat in groups, waiting (hoping) to be asked to dance to every song - slow OR fast. Occasionally there would be a group of brave girls who would dance together during the fast songs or a crazy girl (me) who would tear up the dance floor all alone if 'Dancing With Myself' was played.

NOW: No chairs. The teenagers are all either dancing or standing around in groups on the dance floor. If dancing to fast music, for the most part boys are dancing with boys and girls are dancing with girls. If dancing to slow music, boys are dancing with girls - but sometimes girls are goofily dancing with girls, too. When approached and asked whattheheck? I was told, "Boys are stupid." (Translation: WE LOVE BOYS!! But they didn't ask us to dance so we're doing this to get some attention. Kind of like that crazy girl who danced by herself when I was a kid.)

THEN: Everyone used the same dance moves for fast songs: either Rowing The Boat or the even more popular Step, Touch, Head-Bob. Occasionally we were graced with The Sprinkler or a breakdancing dance-off.

NOW: There is one dance. It is called jumping. If you are a more advanced dancer, it will include a bit of arm-flailing or fist-pumping. At one point, however, a wide circle was formed and there was something similar to the dance-offs from back in my day.



I would like to add that I loved being at a dance where my teenage kids were. It was such a blast to observe them from the sidelines and just fall in love with them all over again. They have some great friends and they all know how to have fun.

I would say that my proudest moment of the night was when Thriller was played and Coolister led the group in the Thriller Dance that he and his friends concocted and practiced until they had it down. My friend ~j. was there chaperoning as well and I think I told her no less than 10 times how much I loved watching my oldest boy do that Thriller dance. (Thanks for letting me gush, ~j.)

Another happy moment was when I finally found ElemenoB (it seems as if I was searching all night!) and wowed her group of friends with my amazing dance moves. She had asked me earlier that night to 'please not come dance near me' but because I am fluent in teenager language I knew this meant 'please come and dance near me so my friends can see what awesome moves you've got' and I did not want to disappoint.

My conclusion? I am totally available to chaperone these dances whenever needed.

Or even if not needed.

Until then, I'll be practicing the Jump-Dance and teaching my kids The Sprinkler. You know, bridging the gap and all of that.





Want to read more about it? Go see what ~j. had to say.

Silly Old Bear

photo from msu.edu

Yesterday my kids were watching a movie as I made lunch. This is typical. What is NOT typical, however, is that one of the songs in the movie made me cry.

Did I mention that it was a cartoon?

Did I mention that it was Winnie the Pooh?

I know. SO embarrassing.

As luck would have it, Hubba came into the kitchen just then to see if his sandwich was ready.

"Are you so sad, Mom?" he asked me, concerned.

"Oh, no. I am fine. There is just... something in my eye."

"What is the somefing in your eye?"

"Um.... my eyeball."

"And your eyeball is making you be sad?"

"Uh... yes."

"Okay," he said, proud to have discovered the cause of my tears. "Can I have my sam-wich?"



Want to know what was really causing the problem? Come see how I do my best to explain it at Four Perspectives.

He Will Always Be Life In The Snow

What in the world does this picture of Allen have to do with this post? Wait for it...

Because I love music it pains me to hear lyrics which are sung incorrectly.

My oldest brother, Toby, will forever be etched in my memory as a destroyer of songs. Give him a perfectly good song and he can sing it in a way that you never dreamed possible.

I pleaded and reasoned with him numerous times but I could never get him to sing the lyrics the right way. Why? Because he was right, of course, being the oldest brother. This was in the days before internet, before looking up song lyrics with the click of a button. It was a case of his-word-against-mine and he wasn't one to admit defeat easily.

One lyric that he was adamant about was: "Every Time You Go Away, you take a piece of meat with you."

Huh?

"Toby," I would rationalize, "why would someone take a piece of meat with them every time they go away? It just doesn't make sense. The lyric is 'take a piece of ME with you.'"

Then he would come back with, "What does that mean? Take a piece of the guy with her? So, is she like an axe murderer or something? Is this a song about dismemberment?"

Which, actually, I'll have to admit he's got a point with that one. But meat? No.

And don't even get me started on his rendition of Groove Tonight. Did anyone else think they said, 'stethoscope' instead of 'let this groove'? What does a stethoscope have to do with getting your groove on?

One day when I was singing Losing My Religion Toby would not stop laughing. "What is so funny?" I finally asked, annoyed. So he sang back to me what he thought I was singing: "Let's pee in the corner... let's pee in the spotlight..." I just told him that one was right so he could sing it that way around his friends. I mean, who am I to tell my older brother that he's wrong?

It could be that it just runs in the family. My dad always requested that we play Madonna's Material Girl. We eventually figured out that by reading our lips as we sang along he thought we were singing about his favorite cereal and that Madonna was professing "I'm a Cheerio girl".

One of my favorites, though, has to be the misunderstood lyric that I caught my own husband singing. You know the song Endless Love? (If you click on that link please make a game of counting the grammatical atrocities in the video.) One day it began to play over the car radio and, as is standard, we were singing along. At the end of the chorus when it says, "You will always be...my endless love," I heard him sing "you will always be...life in the snow." "Life in the snow?" I asked. "Yeah, that's what they say. Life in the snow." I put that in context for him, reminded him of the title to the song and he immediately realized his error. You know what the best part is? That song's been around forEVER and that's how he always sang it. I can't help but remind him of that every so often. Life in the snow! (giggle)

Anyway, I know it's not only my family; I think misunderstood lyrics are as common as sliced bread. And one thing's for sure... as long as songs exist, there will continue to be people who annihilate the lyrics.

And I will be here to correct them.

Life, Love And Learning

The best and most beautiful things in this world cannot be seen or even heard, but must be felt with the heart. - Helen Keller

I am not sure I can adequately express what I want to, but I am going to try.

The children at church took a walk across the street with their teachers today to sing some songs for the residents of the rest home there. First we walked the halls, holding hands and singing a few familiar favorites, bringing some residents to their doorways to share a smile or offer a wave as we passed by.

We continued to the main gathering room where we congregated on a stage to present a few more numbers. As we stood there singing, I looked out over the crowd. The faces I saw were happy, almost lit up with joy. And why? Because some children that they didn't even know were there to sing some songs for them.

My heart ached for these people, despite their currently pleasant demeanor. Thoughts raced through my mind. Why were they here? Did they have family? If so, did they come to visit? Were they lonely? Hurting? Sad? Scared? Where would I be when I reached that stage of my life? I continued to stand there, mouthing the words to each song along with the crowd of kids, but not actually singing for fear that my emotions would come to the surface. I am not sure how to describe what was going on inside of me except to say that I felt a great deal of love towards our audience.

When we were finished with our music we turned to exit the room. Residents of the home waved farewell, smiling, some calling out things like, "Such beautiful children!" and "Come again!"

I wanted to take the time to hug each person there, to tell them that they were loved and important. But I didn't. Not only for fear that I would become emotional but also because it was time to get back - time to sit in my classroom with the sweet 5-year-olds who I have stewardship over each week. Time to teach the lesson that I had prepared.

As we gathered back at the church and settled down for class I had a similar emotion overtake me, only this time it was one of love and appreciation for each of the kids in my class. I am uncomfortable crying in front of others and welcomed the distraction of Little O being brought to me right then as I don't think I would have been able to hold back what was threatening to emerge.

As I walked through the halls of the church, my little boy in my arms, I continued to think over the things I had felt. And I realized something. At the rest home as well as in my classroom, I was not edifying them. They were edifying me, offering me a glimpse of things that I needed to see and feel.

In reality, they were the ones teaching me the lessons today.

Lessons about the power of music and the love of mankind and the ties that bind us all together.

Remembering to count my blessings.

And none of that even comes close to sharing what I really feel.

Bedtime Songs

I do not sing to my children often enough anymore.

Last night as I went downstairs to silence the bedtime rabble-rousing, Hubba made the request. "Mom? Can you sing me a song?"

"Which one?" I asked.

"Angel song," he answered without hesitation. This song, actually called Angel Lullaby, is one I have sung to every child in their infancy. It is one I learned as a child and have loved ever since.

I began to sing and Hubba stopped me. "Can you please look at my eyeballs like you're singing it just for me?" he asked. I smiled, looked into those wide-open, inquiring eyes and was immediately struck with the idea that this would not last. That these kids of mine are growing up much too fast and that I needed to make more time for things like this - simple things like singing a song to them at bedtime.

I felt an urgency to create as many memories as possible in the short amount of time I have with these kids while they are still in our home - to create a bond that would bring them back home to visit once they no longer lived here.

For a moment, I could not sing. I could only enjoy the warm feeling that seemed to permeate my heart - a simple yet profound gift to me wrapped in melancholy - a reminder to enjoy every minute with my kids while they're here with us in our home.

So, I looked into those beautiful blue eyes of his and began to sing the Angel Song, just for Hubba. When I finished, he gave me a little smile and quietly muttered, "Fanks, mom." Be still my heart.

I started to leave when Cowgirl made her request. "Can you sing Be Like A Child?" Another favorite.

I sang. And then All-a-Boy asked for a song as well. I even heard Coolister crack his bedroom door open. Was it so that he could once again listen to the songs he heard so often when he was younger? I like to believe so.

Upon finishing my last melody I stood to leave the room. All was silent. I took a moment to look at each sleeping (or almost sleeping) child and offered silent thanks that I am blessed with so many amazing little (and some not so little) people to share my home and life with.

Today, I am thankful for the chance I was given to remember that each moment (and each child) is a precious gift. I am thankful that they teach me so much. And although my dreams of performing on Broadway stages were never realized, I am thankful for the captivated audience I have at bedtime.

I am thankful for the song of my heart.

Pick The Winner

(Note: To protect the children in the following story, I will give them non-gender names. They are referred to as Kid 1 and Kid 2.)

Yesterday was our church's Primary Program, which is the day when all of the kids pretty much take over the main meeting (under the direction of a few adults) with songs and talks. Needless to say, it's pretty much my favorite day at church of the entire year.

My cute class had seats right smack in the front of the congregation so that everyone could enjoy their 5-year-old antics, but I don't think anyone enjoyed them as much as I did.

As the whole group began to sing the first song, I sang along with exaggerated mouth movements in an attempt to help my class remember the words. This only resulted in their making exaggerated mouth movements as well, which made me laugh. And then they laughed. So I stopped doing it, because I am the mature adult here.

During one of the longer talks that was given, one of my little students began to pick their nose. I would shake my head and give Kid 1 disapproving looks and Kid 1 would simply avoid eye contact and continue to dig. One of my other students noticed my expression and looked over to see what was happening just as Kid 1 examined the treasure on the end of his/her finger, deemed it good enough and inserted it into his/her mouth. "Gwoss!" Kid 2 said, chastising Kid 1. The nose-picker simply shrugged, unfazed.

At one point, Kid 2 began to grow restless. Kid 2 tried sitting on his/her hands and playing with his/her neighbor's clothing before settling on feeling around beneath his/her chair. I saw what was happening but could do nothing about it. Kid 2 began to pull some gum off of the bottom of the chair. I looked at Kid 2 and mouthed, "YUCK" and "NO" but he/she had already worked the gum free and was showing it to me. "This was un-doe my chay-o!" he/she whispered, showing me a sticky greenish-blue blob. "Put it back," I responded quietly, and then turned my attention to the song being sung. When I looked at Kid 2 again, he/she was happily chewing something. Something sticky. Something greenish-blue.

Who is the 'gwoss' one now? I wondered silently, smiling.

So besides the uplift I received from the musical numbers and words spoken, my class had provided me with an unexpected bit of comic relief as well.

And really, does it get any better?

photo from parentsconnect.com

Rain Song

Photo from flickr.com

Two of my favorite things are rain and music. But putting the two together? Awesome.

So, maybe you care and maybe you don't, but this is a list of my top ten favorite songs that mention rain (in no particular order).

1. Remember When It Rained (Josh Groban)

2. Thunder (Boys Like Girls)

3. Broken (Kenneth Cope)

4. Unwritten (Natasha Bedingfield)

5. Laughter in the Rain (Neil Sedaka)

6. Can I Have This Dance? (High School Musical 3)

7. Running To Stand Still (U2)

8. A Little Fall of Rain (Les Miserables)

9. Fire and Rain (James Taylor)

10. Lost (Michael Buble)

And now, what say you? What rain songs do you enjoy?

Vividly Dreaming

I had a very vivid dream last night - one I could recall completely this morning.

I dreamed that ElemenoB, Thumbelina and I were going to visit my mom. When we arrived at her house she peeked cautiously out the door before throwing it open wide and welcoming us with a declaration of "Happy Birthday ElemenoB and Thumbelina!" However, their birthdays were still quite a ways off. She appeared to have gone a bit mad.

Her small apartment was decorated with balloons, streamers and ribbons galore. When she noticed the confused looks on the girls' faces she sadly asked, "Did grandma do something wrong?"

"Just go along with it, guys," I cautioned under my breath. "You don't want to hurt her feelings."

"No, no, grandma - everything is fine!" ElemenoB declared, a bit too happily patronizing.

"Yeah, this is great - you are so sweet!" Thumbelina added.

My mom then got out a small cake which was festooned with 15 candles. We watched as she lit the candles one by one with a super-sized matchstick and began to sing Happy Birthday. The girls blew the candles out in unison.

"Now let's eat!" Mom instructed as she cut the cake and passed us each a plate.

We ate and visited for a bit before a grand announcement was made. "I have presents for both of you!" Mom proclaimed excitedly as she handed brightly wrapped gifts to both ElemenoB and Thumbelina.

They tore off the wrapping and found Christmas boxes exposed beneath the colorful exterior. "Grandma is going crazy!" my mom said. "I can't believe I used Christmas boxes for birthday presents!"

"It's okay, grandma, we do stuff like that all the time," ElemenoB assured her.

And then they opened the boxes and found that they were empty. My mom was going crazy.

Upon further investigation they discovered envelopes taped onto the underside of the box lids.

Inside the envelopes were tickets to Wicked! Screaming, happiness and nearly-passing-out ensued.
I found a ticket in my purse as well. (Funny thing, dreams.)

They checked their tickets for a date. The show was that very night! In less than 3 hours! However, they were still wearing their school clothes. What could they wear to the show?

"You could borrow some of my clothes," my mom generously offered.

"We could use safety pins," I suggested.

"Okay," they apprehensively agreed.

"I would go in my pajamas if I had to," Thumbelina conceded.

We went to Mom's closet and sorted through her various skirts and dresses. "How about these?" she asked, pulling out some of our very own clothing which just happened to have made its way into her closet - along with shoes to match. (Dreams can be so funny that way!)

"Have a good time!" Mom called to us as she left for work. We picked up some dinner, got dressed and were on the road to the show in record time.

I vividly recall the fact that there was no traffic on the freeway and parking was plentiful. Gotta love dreams.

We made our way into the theater to discover that our seats were perfectly positioned for prime viewing.

As the music began some winged-monkeys slowly drew up the curtain to reveal the opening scene for what could only be described as the best on-stage musical production we have ever experienced.

We did our best not to sing along... but a couple of times Thumbelina couldn't help herself. In fact, I found myself lip syncing throughout much of this portion of the dream.

The show was incredible. Exhilarating. Surreal.
It was a dream come true.

Foreshadowing

Photo by Jason of Backroads Photography

Music speaks to me.

It has a way of seeping into my very being, expressing emotion that words alone cannot.

There are a few songs that bring me to tears because of memories they evoke or emotions they express. One song that brings me to tears every time is the song For Good from the musical Wicked.

It expresses the influence of a friend's presence in life and how truly powerful friendship can be.

So, to those of you who are that kind of friend to me - the kind that cross the boundary of friends into family... and the family I am lucky enough to call my friends (and I hope you know who you are) - thank you for being in my life.

Because I know you, I have been changed for good.

All-a-Boy and the Mo-Tab Choir

Remember when All-a-Boy wrote a letter to the director of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir with suggestions for their next performance during our church's General Conference?

I can't believe I forgot to post the response!

(click on the picture to enlarge it)

My favorite line is this:

With your energy and creative skills, I'm quite sure your future is bright.

I couldn't have said it better myself.

Happy Birthday, All-a-Boy! Never stop changing the world.

The Secret Ingredient

A friend of mine requested a post on my homemade pizza. She says I must have some kind of secret ingredient I use because hers doesn't turn out like mine when she makes it.

Well... she's right.

There is a secret ingredient I had not told her about previously... but I am ready to reveal what makes my pizza so amazing.

I start off with this simple recipe:

1 Tbsp yeast
1 cup warm water
1 Tbsp sugar
2 Tbsp oil
1 tsp salt
about 3 cups flour

Mix all ingredients together in one mixing bowl (I use my Kitchenaid). Let the dough rise for a half hour then roll out onto desired pan. Add toppings and cook at 425 degrees for 10 minutes.
While the dough is rising I get my toppings ready. Use whatever your family likes. Our pizzas include pepperoni, olives, mushrooms, pineapple, green pepper and plenty of cheese.
Plus the secret ingredient.

The above recipe times 3 is enough for me to make 3 regular sized and one jumbo sized pizza. I split the dough into 4 blobs and flatten each dough-blob on a pizza pan using my favorite kitchen tool... my hands.
Lay down some sauce, sprinkle a little Parmesan cheese over the top and then add a layer of mozzarella.
Cover the mozzarella with whatever toppings you've decided on...
Add another layer of mozzarella...
And bake.

Oh, I almost forgot. Did you notice the secret ingredient in the picture of all the toppings? Here it is:
Music.
That's right, I like to pretend I am acting out a scene from a musical as I prepare my pizzas.
When one of the kids come into the kitchen I improvise and add them into the scene. (I'm awesome with kitchen improv.)
Mr. Scarlata would be so proud to know that all of those classes in high school were not in vain.
I believe it gives the pizza some pizazz. Makes it a little more cultured. More diverse. More tasty.

Be sure to orchestrate a big finish for the best results...Now you try. Throw a little of my secret ingredient in the next time you make pizza and see if it doesn't make a difference.

(Thanks to ElemenoB for the cinematography)

My Good Fortune

I am SO excited!

I have wanted to see the musical Wicked ever since my friend Rebecca gave me the soundtrack for my birthday a few years back. I would even go so far as to say that it is my dearest wish to see this musical. You can imagine how thrilled I was to discover that the show was coming to Utah!

However, I didn't get tickets. And now, the show is sold out.

I thought it was too late.

Until today!

I opened a fortune cookie and could not believe what I read...
The cookie has spoken!

Wicked, here I come.

Guest Post: Teachinfourth

Hey, everyone! Today is Allen's surgery and I knew I wouldn't have time to post at all. I asked my friend Jason (better known in blogland as Teachinfourth) if he would be willing to post here and (lucky you!) he graciously agreed. So to Jason, thank you. And to everyone else, enjoy...

This is not my usual place for writing; however, since I was asked by my good friend, Gerb, to do a guest posting, I was quite flattered and decided to oblige. For those of you who either don’t know me or don’t care, rest assured, I am only here temporarily and Gerb will undoubtedly return yet again with sensational tales of wonder.

Until then…you’ve got me.

Now, when I was first asked to do this, I was given no parameters whatsoever.

“What would you like me to write about?” I inquired, hoping for a topic which would make the composition of said guest-blog so much easier.

“Whatever you want to write would be fine with me,” came the dreaded reply.

Curses.

Topics always tend to make it easier for writing instead of trying to pull something out of one’s own head.

I sat down at the keyboard and prepared to compose a work of art when it happened.

Nothing.

I sat for quite some time, staring at the blank screen. I began to feel perturbed…after all, I knew how to write. I knew I could do it.

I switched on my iPod and leaned back in my seat, waiting for something…

Some writers have great ideas thrust upon them in a flurry of inspiration; while others, like me, find themselves groping at proverbial straws of desperation.

As my iPod shuffled itself to a song I’d not heard in years, the awaited guest arrived. It came in the form of a song…a song riddled with recollections dating back to some of my earliest memories. Yeah, you know the song I am talking about. Though this song may be different for you in both tune and lyrics, it conveys the same outcome as mine did for me.

A painter paints pictures on canvas. But musicians paint their pictures on silence.

~Leopold Stokowski

As the haunting strains of music poured through the speakers, I felt an incessant desire to lock myself into that particular moment, and to let the memories saturate me like honey drizzled over freshly-warmed scones with butter.

I found myself closing my eyes and listening to the melody which seemed to carry me to another place, another time, and a whole other world which I’d once forgotten.

As the shadows played before my eyes like an old-time movie, I listened to the brilliant soundtrack in stereo sound. The metaphors of my life were sharp and defined, only as music can make them.

“Take a music bath once or twice a week for a few seasons. You will find it is to the soul what a water bath is to the body.’”

~Oliver Wendell Holmes

When the final notes of the song faded into silence, I opened my eyes. I’d been transported back to the place from which I’d started. I’d taken an entire journey all without leaving the four walls of my home.

Music is a power which can change an attitude, a temper, or even the atmosphere of an entire room. With an instrument as powerful as this, I hope we are utilizing it to its fullest extent in our everyday lives. Not only to visit those places and times of the past we love, but to create new memories to enjoy for tomorrow.

“Music washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life.”

~Berthold Auerbach

Admitting It Is The First Step...

You May Play Rock Band Too Often If...

Our children's Primary at church is having a talent show this Friday. They will be sharing any and every talent under the sun with the residents of a care center in our neighborhood.

On Sunday I asked Princess (age 6) if she was going to do anything at the talent show. She said that she asked one of the teachers if she could sing "Dirty Little Secret". The teacher responded that "Pretty Little Secrets" sounded like a nice song and Princess said,

"Not Pretty Little Secrets, DIRTY Little Secret!"

The teacher asked if maybe she could think of another song.

I am just glad she didn't ask to sing her other favorite Rock Band song... the one she calls "Rock Sand".

I am a bad mommy.

20 Years Was A Long Time Ago

Photo of Wayfarer's Chapel from panoramio.com

I have always loved to write. From the time I was 8 years old until I got married in 1992 I was a dedicated journal writer, recording all sorts of mundane life events. This post is taken from the journal I kept for the year 1989, when I was 17 years old.

Today I bought my prom ticket for $85.00. I asked Mike to go with me but he hasn't given me an answer yet. I feel kind of stupid being the one doing the asking but it's better than waiting around for someone to ask me and feeling sorry for myself. The funny thing is, I guess I'm waiting around waiting for his answer and feeling sorry for myself that he might say no anyway. If he can't go I'll just take Chip and probably have a better time anyway.
(Oh, how I wish I had followed my gut feelings on this one! That was about the worst date of my life and I had no one to blame but myself.)

I drove to Wayfarer's Chapel today. It was so peaceful there, tucked back in the hills. I thought about how stoked I would be if I was ever inside this building during a rain storm. I sat on the stone steps and started to write a song and then I walked over to the cliffs and just looked at the waves crashing on the rocks below for awhile. The sky was a burst of oranges and reds with a tinge of pink on the underbelly of the clouds and the tide was high. So I'm moving on. Thank you, Blondie.
(I hope that at least some of you can appreciate the awesome wit of 17-year-old me.)

School today. I hated every minute of it. Trish and I were laying out on her roof in our bikinis yesterday and we got burnt. I would never wear my bikini in public, in case any of my kids in the future read this. Even though my dad says I should wear one now while I can still get away with it. He cracks me up.
(I'm not sure which is funnier - the disclaimer to my future kids or my dad's approval of my bikini.)

I can't imagine ever not having music in my life. Today I am listening to my favorite tape filled with songs that I got off the radio. I hate when the DJ has to talk right until the singing starts because then I don't get the whole intro. Why do they do that? Anyway, "Just Like Heaven" from The Cure just finished and now the Cowboy Junkies are singing "Sweet Jane". The next song is REM's "You Are The Everything" which is probably my favorite song in the world right now. It is one of those songs that puts me in a mood. I don't know how else to describe it. Music is such a powerful force.
(Some things never change - except maybe my favorite songs. Those change daily.)

Someone burned down the Ivy House. I wonder who it was? I also wonder if the lady who lived in there was really a witch with somewhere close to 50 cats. That's what everyone says. You know what I think? If I lived in a house with 50 cats I would burn it down, too, straight to the ground. I would never tell anyone this because they would think I was a mean witch for hating cats so much.
(The funniest thing about this snippet is that I am completely serious.)

Here I am again, sitting on the bus stop bench in front of our apartment building. Somehow the sound of the occasional passing car clears my head and helps me to think. And here's what I'm thinking tonight: I am an idiot.
(No use trying to lie to myself, I suppose.)

That's all you get. The remaining pages are a jumbled mess of my obsession with various persons of the male species which honestly serves no purpose and should be burned.

Kind of like the Ivy House.