A Night At The Theatre

(Two of the audience members, eagerly awaiting the start of the play)

I am often treated to a play which is written, directed and acted out by my kids. Last night's was especially suspenseful. Here are the general rules:

1. It must take place in the basement.
2. Costumes and props must be used.
3. If anyone forgets their lines, any other actor may fill in.
4. The script can change at any time. (Improv is good.)

And now, without further ado, I present for your theatrical pleasure:

MURDER IN ALYSSA'S MANSION!

SCENE 1.

We begin in the kitchen where the maid is preparing dinner.

"What are you doing here, Miss Coleson?" the maid asks.

"I'm just visiting." Miss Coleson responds.

"Dinner will be late, madam." the maid says kindly.

And then Miss Coleson pulls out a pink plastic knife from her tea set and STABS HER TO DEATH!!
(dim lights, crew member drags maid off)

"Mom! I'm getting dragged to change my costume!" the dead maid calls out to me.
SCENE 2.

Miss Coleson tries to visit Alyssa in her room.

Lucky for Alyssa there happens to be a guard at her door who sends Miss Coleson away.

BUT! The guard turns his back on Miss Coleson. Big mistake!!

She pulls out her pink plastic knife from her tea set and STABS HIM TO DEATH!!

SCENE 3.

Alyssa meets Miss Coleson in the secret passage to her secret cellar and asks, "What are you doing here?"

"Ever since you invited me to your birthday party and your dog bit me I have been ANGRY!" Miss Coleson yells. "And now you shall never see daylight again!"

Miss Coleson pulls out her pink plastic knife (from her tea set) and STABS HER TO.... wait!

Alyssa ducks!

She lives!

A guard happened to be in the secret passageway to the secret cellar and saw the whole thing and called 911!

A storm trooper shows up with a rubber-band gun pointed at the guard! Is he in cahoots with Miss Coleson?
No one knows!

Because at this point the cast giggles uncontrollably, takes their bows, and declares the show over.

But WAIT!!

Regardless of the fact that most of the audience has gone, the storm trooper turns his rubber-band gun on Miss Coleson and shoots her dead with a loud "P-choo! P-choo!" sound.

THE END.
(close curtain)

Thank you for joining us for a night of mystery theater.

Tune in next week when the entire cast meets for a group counseling session.

Duct Tape, I Love You

To The Person Who Came Up With This Genius Idea,

Thank you.

I wish I had come up with this myself! Of course, I assume it counts as defacing public property or something of that sort, so in that regard I am glad it was you and not me.

But seriously - thanks for putting a smile on my face.

This was just what I needed on Monday.

Sincerely,
Gerb

What's For Dinner?

It had been a long time since I made Sweet and Sour Chicken for dinner.

I love this meal. Even though it takes a little more effort than usual, it is well worth it.

I gathered the ingredients and began to slice, measure, chop and mix.

Boy, did it smell tasty when it was finally ready to serve!

I dished up a serving for everyone, proud of myself for putting forth the extra effort.

I was a true domestic goddess!

As the kids gathered around the table, Princess looked upset.

"What's wrong, Princess?" I asked. "Why are you sad?"

No response.

Me: "You should be SO happy today because look! Did you see what I made for dinner? Do you know what it is?"

Princess: "Yeah. It is dus-gusting!"

Now I remember why it has been so long since I've made it.

I am the Domestic Goddess of Disgusting.

We're ROCKIN' !!

In a very uncharacteristic move, Allen and I decided to purchase a Wii for the kids for Christmas.

Only so we could also purchase RockBand - the most fun I have ever had in my living room!

It is so much fun to invite our friends over to play...

(I wish I could be pictured above, but someone had to be photographer)

I mean... the kids invite their friends over.

OK, they will. Eventually.

Because we totally bought it for the kids.

Totally.

Guest Post: Mary Sunshine

Hello. My name is Leiannaconnaannaconnadonna. I was actually born on a small island off the coast of Iowa where my parents named me Mary Sunshine but that name was a little too... merry. Plus it was the same as my mom's name. So I legally changed it when I left home at the age of 14.

I have traveled the world in search of the perfect donut, sharing my accordion music along the way. Seriously, who doesn't totally love accordion music? And donuts? I know, crazy to even think about it.

On Tuesday I made it to this city in Utah where I had heard there was an amazing bakery. I was dropped off near an elementary school so I decided to check it out.

As I wandered the halls, I saw a sign that said "Literature responses due!" on one of the doors. I wanted to find out what that was all about so I stepped inside.

The teacher welcomed me to their class - he didn't call security or anything - and asked if the kids could ask me some questions to practice interviewing really amazing people who played the accordion. So I was like, "Yeah, no problem" because people are always fascinated by me and want to ask me stuff. I am totally used to it.
They asked me to play them a little polka so of course I obliged. They were completely amazed by my talent and I think I even saw a couple of kids wiping their eyes afterwards. I do that to people all the time so it didn't come as any big surprise.

Some of the questions the kids asked were weird. Like, "How do you feel about your music?"

I mean, hello! I play the accordion, kids. How do you think it feels? Obviously amazing.

And then one of them asked me why, at the age of 2, I chose an accordion over a car.

Again, it's an accordion. After I let the kid who asked that question get an up-close look at Baby (uh, it's not like I named my accordion but sometimes I call her that - you got a problem with it?) he totally saw the light and was like, "Yeah, I'd totally choose an accordion, too." And I was like, "Yeah, that's what I thought."
One kid asked if they could feel Baby. I was thinking like, "Are you totally kidding me? No way, junior!" but I got all sweet-like and said, "OK, you can all touch her with ONE finger later".
My favorite question was "What is your favorite kind of donut?" I had to try real hard not to bust a gut over that one. I mean, they're donuts. That's like asking a mom "Hey lady, which one's your favorite kid?" I tried to stay all calm though and named a few of the goodies: Boston Cream, Maple Frosted and of course donut holes.

One kid even asked what my favorite fast food restaurant was. These kids! So funny. I just named a couple - Dunkin' Donuts & Yum Yum Donuts. You know what I'm talkin' about? If it's a donut and I can get it quick, I'm pretty dang happy.

Well, all great things come to an end, and I knew I couldn't stay there forever, so I had to say goodbye. I gave them all a real treat and let them touch my accordion before they headed out to recess like I said I would.
I said ONE FINGER but some thought they'd be all funny and touched Baby with two fingers or even THEIR WHOLE HAND and I got a little persnickety but it turned out alright.

I polished Baby down real good after I left that place.

Next I'm heading to the Salt Lake City 'cause I hear there's some Dunford Donuts that taste real good up that way.

Oh yeah, I guess the teacher guy was pretty floored by my performance and the ambience I brought to his classroom and everything 'cause he totally wrote about it too. You should go check it out by clicking on those blue words. This computer stuff is pretty amazing.

Kind of like me and my skills on the accordion.

And donuts.

Music For Monday

When I am happy, I like to sing. Loudly.

When I am sad or upset about something I like to sing even more. And even louder.

The song does not matter, as long as I know all the words and can sing along.

Music somehow helps bring happiness to my heart or peace to my inner turmoil - even more so when I can belt it out, unabashedly.

It's a good thing it's winter and my windows are closed.

Cinderella vs. Pixie

Want to see the coolest new toy, ever? Go check out my cousin Pottymouth's blog. Seriously awesome.

That was the inspiration for my showing you what I found on the day after Christmas...

Ever seen Toy Story? Apparently Lego Cinderella and the Pez Pixie were not getting equal time with Cowgirl and I walked into the room before L.C. had time to let P.P. out of her death grip.

One Girl's Trash...

"Is that your treasure chest, Mom?" Hubba asked me.

"Not really," I replied, "It's mostly some junk I need to get rid of."

I had decided that it was a good day to clear some stuff out of this 'hope chest' my parents gave to me years ago. I knew it contained items that were important to me at one time or another but my priorities have changed dramatically since I was a teenager. I opened it up and stared down at the top layer.

Old VHS tapes? Those could definitely go.


Wait... it's a tape of the first 2 musicals I performed in? And a complete video of the (one and only) pageant I competed in? And some footage with my Dad in it? Hmmm... maybe they're keepers.

Holy cow - check out these pictures of me at school dances. I don't need these!
Well... maybe the kids would think they are fun to look at. Besides, check out my hair in this one! Classic 80's!
I can totally remember that I had to buy Jason that sweater to get him to go to the dance with me. Ha!

Here are these old, stained dolls. What do I need them for?


They were my favorites. That Holly Hobby was my only gift one Christmas. And those stains were from my 'feeding' them at every meal. Maybe I could try washing them. Maybe they're antiques? I better hold on to them.

How about this folder? I don't need my old church folder. Let's take a look inside first...
Wow- it's my camp patch and neckerchief! I worked so hard to earn those. I can still remember how I almost didn't pass off the fire-building or first aid. These are still pretty cool.

Alright, let's see - 2 pictures of me that people drew. Kind of fun. Old posters from the plays I was in? They don't take up much room. Cassette tapes? What in the world... No way! Trish and I singing Surfin' USA... I totally forgot about FunTrax in Westwood! I guess all this stuff is going back in...

OK, on to the bottom layer.


Those blankets are all worth keeping. And I can't throw out my yearbooks or my letterman's jacket. That has my name on it. I wonder what's in that little box?


The first book I ever wrote! I loved this - my Fashion Plates made the perfect pictures to illustrate it. I love the clothes I picked for the people who "just relax at home".

What the heck is this?


Oh yeah! I totally forgot that I own the magic whistle that makes me ruler of the seas! My friend Joe found it for me and wrote a story to go with it. I can't just toss creativity like that in the garbage.

Why am I keeping some piece of paper...

Yes!! Holly still totally owes me from my 17th birthday! I'll have to give her a call...

And look! PROOF!
I totally got an A+ in speech! Ahem... good thing I didn't keep any other report cards...

What's in this envelope? Old negatives? I can toss 'em. Well, let's check what they are first...



Oh - pictures from my theatrical makeup class. Hmmm... maybe I'll develop them and see if they're worth keeping.

In the end, this was all that got thrown away:


Apparently, I am something of a junk collector - or maybe just a sentimental softie. But either way, Hubba was right.

It is my treasure chest.

Exercise Is Important

Who Is That Masked Family?

Cowgirl was sick yesterday.

She stayed home from school to (hopefully) recover from the last of her sore throat and cough while the other kids headed off for the first day back after Christmas break.

(I love when my kids stay home!)

As soon as the other kids were out the door she set to work on her plans for the day.

We all became superheroes.
I have always wanted to be like that mom on the Incredibles. Look, you can hardly recognize me!

Curly wanted a crown. Cowgirl was only taking orders for masks. They compromised.
She then made Hubba a Thomas the Train mask.
Princess requested a red mask.
And then, of course, Cowgirl made herself a cowboy hat-mask.
Sick days are awesome.

Choosing

My new "job" at church on Sundays is to teach a class of 4-year-olds in the Primary, the organization for all kids ages 3-11. I started yesterday.

The reason I have this new job is because Hubba is not a big fan of going to his class on Sundays. The thinking was that if his mom was his teacher, he'd go. Sounds reasonable, right? I thought so, too.

We underestimate Hubba.

I came prepared and excited for my first day with Hubba in tow. At first, he seemed excited.

"You are my chee-cher, Mom! You will be my chee-cher all the year!" he happily chattered on the way to the Primary room.

After 5 minutes of sitting on my lap, it started.

"Mom, let's get out of here."

"Where should we go, Hubba? I am your teacher now, remember? I am the teacher for the other kids, too. We get to be together all the time on Sundays now! Let's listen to the new song!"

"No, Mom, you don't look like my chee-cher no more. You're just a mom. Let's go to nursery."

(Nursery is the class I used to teach - the 18 months to 3 years old class. In nursery they have puzzles, trains, books and treats. Hmmm. Wonder why he likes it there.)

"Hubba, I am not in nursery anymore, and you are a BIG boy! Big boys don't go to nursery!"

"Yes they DO! And Primary is DUMB! And I want a DRINK!"

"Hubba, we will get a drink when we go to our class. Not right now."

And so on.

When we finally went to class, things started off well. The lesson was on choosing the right. The kids all sat in their chairs and listened well. Except Hubba.

Throughout the lesson he did all sorts of things.

He walked over to the light switch and flipped it off.

Then on.

Then off.

He tipped his chair upside down and sat on it, making train noises.

He kicked the divider that separated us from another class. Repeatedly.

At one point, he kicked the chair of the girl next to him. She raised her hand.

"Yes?" I asked, smiling.

"Hubba is kicking my chay-uh. I dough wanna sit by him any mo-uh."

Hubba sat in his chair again for about 20 seconds. In this brief window of time I passed out CTR rings. I told the kids they could look at them as a reminder to choose the right every day. Each child was excited and proud to wear one. Except Hubba.

He threw his at the window. Repeatedly.

And then it started. One of the kids in my class said, "Hubba! Choose the right!"

Another child chimed in, "Yo mom is tee-ching us to choose the wight! You are choosing the wong!!"

And another, "Look at your wing and wemem-buh!"

Hubba then proudly proclaimed (while laughing) "I don't choose the right! I choose the POOP!"


The way I see it, it can only get better from here.

Thinking Out Loud

Thoughts on self-portraits:

How do people take pictures of themselves? Every time I try, mine turn out wacky. Like too dark or too bright or you can only see half an eyeball. Or my nose is freakishly large.

Or I look like a female Skeletor.

How do people know they are in the camera frame when they snap the photo?

I am never in the camera frame.

Is there some secret the world is keeping from me? Is it because no one wants to see my picture?

My smile always looks fake when I take my own pictures. Maybe because it is sort of fake, unless I make myself laugh - and then my nose flares and I have to start all over again.

Thoughts on haircuts. Specifically, mine:

There is something magical about getting a haircut.

Yesterday marked a milestone for me - this is twice that I've had my hair cut in a span of 5 months. I usually go about a year, sometimes two, between visits to the salon.

Am I becoming vain?

Probably.

I finally realized (3 haircuts ago) that I don't really like my hair short. It doesn't matter how badly I want short hair. I don't like it on me.

Are people lying when they say my hair looks good short?

It may be too short this time.

I wanted it shoulder-length when curly. It's shoulder-length when straight.

I am nervous about how my hair will look when it is washed and curly.

I don't want people to pretend they like my hair.

I don't want people to not like my hair.

Why do I care what people think? Because I am human, that's why.

I will not have straight hair again until I get my next haircut. I don't have that kind of time or patience.

Maybe I will love how it looks when curly and always have it cut this short.

Maybe not.

Maybe.

My 15 Minutes of Fame

Don't get too excited... it was only in my friend Rebecca's dream.

But still, I performed with Donny Osmond! How cool is that? He's like the Mormon Michael Jackson. Hey, dream or reality, I'll take what I can get.

So today, for your reading pleasure, may I present (in her own words!) Rebecca's dream:

In my dream...  You came to my house, very excited to share the news that you had almost been privileged to perform with Donny Osmond! And even though the performance didn't work out, you did get a beautiful, flowing dress (it was brown with blue trim, and very 70's chic!) out of the deal. I was so excited for you. So was Doug. (Rebecca's husband, better known around here as D-Dog or Scoop Dougy-Doug) You led us (through the air--we can fly in dreams, you know) to the place where you were given the dress. It was his apartment complex lobby, in a big city. You put the dress on, and it was lovely, of course. You were lovely. And then...Donny himself came into the lobby to greet you. I pulled out the video camera to record (of course, even in my dream I had video issues and could only capture 30 seconds of it!) as you and Donny sang, danced, and signed "Soldier of Love" together, al impromptu. I was so impressed and wondered how he knew the signs, too. You guys were fabulous, performing together! The small crowd in the lobby cheered, and then Donny graciously got away and went back to his business (checking his mail or whatever). But as we went outside to leave, we ran into his lovely wife and she sat outside on the grass with us and chatted with us (at this point, you were the big celebrity, of course!) about her family woes. So I once again took on the role of paparazzi and went down the grassy hill a distance to take some still shots of you and Mrs. Osmond and your groupies. And darn it if I didn't have camera issues AGAIN! This time, it turned out I was holding the camera upside down and getting a glare in the pics. Silly me!

How do you like that? I flew! I had groupies! I wore a fabulous, flowy, 70's chic dress! And Donny Osmond knew sign language! (I'm sure he was tutored by his brothers, Virl and Tom.) Honestly, does it get any better than that?

OK, it would have been amazing if I sang an encore number, maybe a song from Newsies, with Christian Bale.

A Happy Birthday and a Happy-Me-Day

I needed to start this new year out on the right foot. I have been a little grumpy lately and I don't like myself much that way. (I'm fairly certain my family doesn't enjoy it either.)

So because today is Princess' 6th birthday and because it has become a kid-created tradition to serve the birthday person breakfast in bed, I decided to go all out and make Dutch Babies (better known as German Pancakes) with fresh whipped cream and marion berries. With freshly whipped cream on hand I couldn't resist making a nice mug of hot chocolate for her, too.

The result? A happy Princess.
I have found that doing something nice for someone else usually helps pull me out of the pool of self-pity that I've been wallowing in. I don't usually want to do it - that's the difficult part. Sometimes I like having a pity party. But the good news is that I have never regretted it once the good deed is done.

And look at that sweet face... how could I still be grouchy with that around?