The Hoot Owl

Our visit to Sandpoint would not have been complete without a stop at the Hoot Owl Cafe.  It was kind of fun to see some of the places our friend Jason wrote about and captured in photographs - almost like stepping into a movie set that was the background for his life story. 

The outside of The Hoot Owl was just as inviting as the inside with its bright flowers and fun adornments.

We quickly learned that every female that steps through the doors is called 'Sweetie' and every male, regardless of age, is referred to as 'Young Man'.  We were told of the breakfast special and handed our menus which were as fun to look at as the walls of the Cafe.

 (When my kids saw this picture of Janelle one of my girls immediately said, "She's so pretty!"  Own it, Janelle!)

Seriously - the menu was awesome.  There were things like Red Neck Eggs Benedict and even Green Eggs and Ham!

 

As we waited for our food I was scouring the menu, determined to find some kind of error.  (Yeah, I'm a nerd.  It's what I do.)  Sure enough...

Once the food arrived, all steaming hot and smelling delicious, it filled the table.

The patrons of the Cafe must have thought we were crazy when we got excited about a fly who buzzed around our table.  "One of the trained flies that Jason talked about!" Janelle exclaimed.  We got out our cameras and tried to capture it but it wouldn't hold still.  It finally came to rest on a knife and I got a blurry shot before it buzzed away to another table.
  

The walls inside the Hoot Owl are covered with all sorts of fun sayings and signs.  I think this one was my favorite, though:

 When it came time to leave we noticed this sign on the bulletin board just outside the door.

 

I kind of wanted to pull just about every tab, but decided to leave it there for others who might be more in need of what was offered.  (Wouldn't it be great if it was that easy?)

 

 

Extreme Makeover

 My friend Janelle and I took a road trip recently.  We went to go visit a friend.  The drive to his new place in Sandpoint was long, but we hardly noticed due to the beautiful scenery and great company.

As we drove through the mountains and valleys, enjoying the awesome fall colors and our picturesque surroundings, we couldn't help but think of our friend and how much he would have enjoyed being there with us.  As we came into Sandpoint and drove down the road which led to the cemetery we looked in the sky and noticed some Z-shaped clouds welcoming us.  Coincidence?

Maybe.  But we didn't think so.

We easily found the marker at Jason's little spot of ground.  I gave him the pumpkin that my family had all signed, a gift we decided on knowing that autumn was his favorite season.  Because of the time of year, everything looked barren and gray.  Janelle and I decided that we needed to cheer things up a bit.  We did what girls do.  We went and purchased some items for a little makeover.

When we returned the next day, we tried out some of the decorations.  First, a sweet little kitty.  

It's true that Joey Dosent Like Kittys, but this kitty sure liked Jason.  However, we decided to go with something a little more manly.  Jason's favorite holiday was definitely Halloween, and since his headstone wasn't in yet we found a temporary fix along with a couple of extra items to make his place look festive.  The skeleton on the headstone even wore a little smirk - we thought Jason would like that.

We worried a little bit about what others might think if they came across our awesome Haloween makeover.  So, as much as we knew Jason would say something like "That's brilliant!" or "This is awesoooome!", we went with a more traditional kind of autumn decor.

Here's the whole family plot.  It's in a beautiful, peaceful place, just up against some trees in a far corner of the cemetery.

We took some time to sit and chat with our friend before leaving on the next leg of our journey, to visit some of the places he talked and wrote about.
 

As we drove away I looked back at our little makeover and thought, we did good.  I loved how we were able to transform his little spot of earth into the bright spot of the cemetery.
 

Please Explain

There Is Beauty All Around

On Monday evening we were dazzled by a beautiful rainbow.

 

Tuesday morning brought heavy clouds that enveloped the mountains to the east.

By early Tuesday afternoon the clouds seemed to be lounging comfortably at the base of the mountains to the south. 

Wednesday was a perfect day for a drive up the canyon.

We were completely amazed by the bright splotches of color everywhere.

 

 These pictures really don't do the colors justice - they were so vibrant!

 

 Some of the leaves on this hill were shades of fluorescent red, orange and pink.

The view is always best when some of my favorite little people are a part of it.

We could have spent the whole day in the canyon but by afternoon we headed back toward home to get Curly to kindergarten.

Wednesday evening I noticed the brilliant sunset down by my favorite tree.

I don't know how autumn isn't everyone's favorite time of year.
I love the beauty that surrounds this place we call home.

YOLO?

I can't remember exactly what I said that prompted ElemenoB to respond to me with a strange word I've never heard before: YOLO.  I asked her what the heck that was supposed to mean, which was followed by she and Thumbelina marveling over the fact that I had never heard of it.

"Seriously, Mom?  You've never heard of YOLO?"

"People have been saying it for, like, ever!"

I thought they were making it up, which would be completely in character for these two.  But no, they would not relent.

"Look it up!  We're totally not kidding!"

So I did.  For those of you who are as ignorant, out of it, and old fashioned as I - YOLO is an acronym for You Only Live Once.  It's basically this generation's excuse to do something stupid.  Sort of like how saying "bless his/her heart" before saying negative things about someone is supposed to cancel out what you say.  YOLO is like saying I'm about to do something stupid but hey, You Only Live Once! and then it's suddenly okay to do the stupid thing.  Because YOLO!!  It's about the stupidest thing I've ever heard.  (Stupid is apparently my go-to word today.)

Once I realized that they were indeed using a (mostly) well-known phrase, I admitted I was out of the loop (not a huge revelation or anything, by the way).

"NBD", ElemenoB responded.

I just smiled knowingly.

But secretly I wondered,  What the heck does NBD mean?!    

It's true.  I'm old.









(For those who are as inept as I, NDB = No Big Deal.  But why wouldn't you just SAY the words?  It takes the same amount of breath, for the love!)

Pumpkin Chocolate Chip Pancakes

One of my favorite flavors of fall is pumpkin.  It's not that I have to wait until the leaves start changing colors to enjoy it, it's more that it just feels right.  Last night was the perfect night for some pumpkin-infused pancakes for dinner.  Throw in some chocolate chips and what do you have?  Awesomeness.

This is what I call a cheater recipe because I could totally have make it from scratch, but I didn't.  Here is pretty much all that you need:

The recipe I came up with (see the end of the post) made this many pancakes:

You can top them with syrup or applesauce or whatever you like, but we like whipped cream. 

I have a confession to make.  I've become something of a whipped cream snob.  I used to love me some Cool Whip straight out of the container - I could eat it like ice cream!  But my friend Dave once pointed out how simple it was to make my own, and how much better it tasted.  Man-oh-man was he ever right!  So for those of you who already know what a beautiful thing home-whipped cream is, go make some.  For you who don't, here's what I do.

Dump the whipping cream into your mixer bowl (or into a regular bowl if you don't have a fancy mixer - it still works, it just takes longer). 

Add a little sugar - granulated or powdered, it doesn't matter (I added about 1/3 cup of sugar to 1 1/2 pints of whipping cream).  Then whip that stuff on high speed until it looks like whipped cream.

(As a little side note, I have discovered that you can also easily make chocolate whipped cream by adding a little cocoa before whipping.  Spread that on brownies instead of frosting for a taste of chocolate heaven.)


All of my very willing taste-testers agreed - this recipe is definitely a keeper!

Pumpkin Chocolate Chip Pancakes

5 cups 'just add water' whole wheat pancake mix*
3 1/2 cups water (add more if you like a thinner batter)
2 cups canned pumpkin
1 cup mini chocolate chips**

Add water to pancake mix.  Stir like crazy until there are no gross flour clumps left.  Stir in pumpkin, then chocolate chips.  Pour onto a hot griddle and cook until lightly browned on both sides.  


*If you want to whip up your own pancake batter, go ahead.  Just add some canned pumpkin and mini chocolate chips to your batter.  You can also just use regular pancake mix.  It doesn't have to be whole wheat.  I'm not the boss of you.

**Yes, they have to be mini in my opinion.  The regular sized chips don't work out right and they burn on the griddle.

Toothless

MISSING: Two front teeth.

I've never seen someone so excited about losing a tooth!  Hubba lost the first front tooth a couple of weeks ago and couldn't wait for the second one to come out. 

After plenty of wiggling and pushing and twisting (and blood!), he pulled it out on Friday night.  Hubba spent the rest of the evening saying words that contain 'th' and 's' and laughing about how funny he sounded.  Then he practiced saying those words so they don't come out funny at all.

He's going to make a great Halloween jack-o-lantern.

Saturday's Spotlight

photo here

This weekend my alma mater celebrates fifty years of existence.  As much as I wanted to be there to sing in the alumni choir before the football game last night, and to run a 5K through my old school stomping grounds today (seriously - the run is through the actual halls of the school!), I think the part I most wanted to be there for was to see a couple of teachers who really made a difference to me.

I could write separate posts for each of the 5 teachers who come to mind as the most influential in my high school years (and maybe I will) but right now I want to tell you about Ms. La Fleur, my Spanish teacher.

Yes, I took five years of honors Spanish.  You would never know it now for my lack of ability, but thanks to Ms. La Fleur I am still totally fluent in reciting the basic conversation we practiced daily, the pledge of allegiance and, my favorite, The Birthday Song.  Not your typical birthday song, but one that is called Las Mañanitas.  Man, did I love that woman.

I was first introduced to Ms. La Fleur as a gawky, shy 8th grader who was bussed over to the high school every morning for Spanish classes.  She immediately started calling everyone in the class Lovies and Dearhearts, but it wasn't strange.  Not to me.  I loved every ounce of exuberance and happiness that just seemed to radiate off of her.

She kept track of every student's birthday in every one of her classes and brought in a white bakery bag, folded over twice, if it was your special day.  Inside was a delicious cake donut with white frosting and rainbow sprinkles complete with a single candle poked into one side.  And with much fanfare, she would parade that bag over to your desk and announce to the class, "Dearhearts! Today is (Birthday Person)'s birthday!  Let us sing The Birthday Song!" as she lit the candle.  At first she sang a glorious solo,  loud and strong, while dancing around the desk with a huge smile on her face, skirt twirling.  As the year progressed and others picked up on the song, she would insist on everyone else joining in as well.

Many people hated their birthdays in Spanish class, or at least pretended to.  Not so with me!  I looked forward to it so much that I took Spanish for 5 years, even though I couldn't grasp the language.  You've got to love a teacher like Ms. La Fleur.  She really and truly cared, and we all knew it.

She understood the power of the phrase, "It's nice to be important, but it's more important to be nice."

Though young at heart, I would guess that Ms. La Fleur was probably in her 50's back in my high school days so I can only imagine her age now.  And as much as I would have loved to see her again this weekend, maybe it's best to remember her in a flowing skirt, dancing around my desk, making me feel like the most important Dearheart in the room.

NotMe and Idunno

 

Curly and Little O just saw them!

There are two frequent visitors at our house that I wish would just stay away.  Their names are NotMe and Idunno. 

Allen and I have never met or even seen NotMe and Idunno, but the kids have.  They see them ALL THE TIME, doing all of the things that break the rules and make us crazy.  I don't get why the kids don't tell them to leave our house and KNOCK IT OFF!!


Who ate in the front room and left crumbs everywhere?

Who stuffed the heating vent full of blocks?

Who smeared boogers all over the back of the couch?

Who used up the brand new roll of scotch tape that I just bought yesterday?

Who took one bite out of every apple in the fridge?

Who crammed the clean laundry under the bed?

Who left the DVDs laying around so that the baby could destroy them?

Who smeared poop all over the side of the toilet?

Who ate an entire bag of chocolate chips in the pantry and left the empty bag as evidence?

Who wiped toothpaste on the cabinets?

Who spilled water on the wood floor and left it?

Who threw rocks all over the lawn?

It's NotMe and Idunno.  Every. Single. Time.


If I ever find where these two characters are hiding out, there are going to be some serious consequences.

Made My Night

I would like to thank one of our local police officers for pulling over a speeding motorist last night, right across the street from our house.

The police lights lit up our front room in sporadic bursts of blue and red, drawing the kids' attention like a cat to a laser pointer.

My kids were so fascinated with what they called 'the crime scene' out the window that I was able to enjoy two chapters of a book in relative peace while indulging myself with an entire bag of unshared peanut M&Ms.  They didn't even hear me open the package! 

It was the most blissful 17 minutes of my day.

Random Thoughts

These are my two best buddies these days.

I have a pair of socks that say 'left foot' and 'right foot' on them.  I purposely wear them on the opposite feet, because socks are not the boss of me.

I am so excited that the firstlings of fall are here.  I can't wait to wear my funky knee-high socks and sweaters.  I can't wait to see the mountains transform into hues of autumn.  I can't wait to make and eat all sorts of pumpkin-flavored treats.  Pumpkin chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast?  Yes, please.


Every time I read the directions in a recipe that say, "Batter will be slightly lumpy" I think, not in my house. Because who wants to bite into a pancake or muffin and have a big lump of flour explode in your mouth?  Gross.  I'd rather risk over-stirring.


Sadness is a fickle friend.  It comes in a strange mixture of happiness and melancholy to remind you of things you don't want to forget.  It also comes to overwhelm you and leaks drip by drip into your heart until it feels much too heavy and expands to fill your chest until you can hardly breathe.  It brings tears which are sometimes welcome,  but which also show up unexpectedly at Parent/Teacher Conferences.

I understand the idea behind parent/teacher conferences, but I always feel bad taking the teacher's time, as well as the time of the parents waiting behind me, just so I can hear how awesome my kids are.  But I still go, because that's what good parents do, right?  And maybe also because I like having other people tell me that my kids are awesome.

One of my favorite parent/teacher conferences was when one of Allen the Younger's high school teachers told me he was a great kid, but he had a flatulence problem and needed to take care of it before class because it was a... distraction.  I got all serious when I talked to him about it, but I had a good chuckle about it later on. It was especially amusing because I think the teacher wanted to just say the word 'fart' but he thought it out and used 'flatulence' instead.

Recently there was an awesome rainstorm, followed by a huge, brilliantly bright, full-on double rainbow arching over the mountains near my home.  It was so beautiful it was almost unreal.

Speaking of unreal, I had a dream the other day that I KNEW was not a dream.  And when I woke up and realized that it WAS a dream, I wondered if my life was actually the dream and my dreams were my real life.

I looked up dreams and meanings of dreams on the internet but couldn't find anything to substantiate my theory.  


I have a serious love/hate relationship with the internet.  I love the way it feeds me information and helps me to feel connected to people, mainly people who do not wear diapers and are not wanting me to watch Curious George with them.  (Again.)  But I hate when something someone says or something I see or read makes me feel inadequate, left out, uneducated or not good enough.  Or worse, when something makes me feel angry.  Where's the balance?  I'm not sure.

If I hear the word Stupidhead come out of my 4-year-old's mouth one more time... I don't know what I'll do.  Because I am really bad at coming up with consequences for the things my kids do that make me crazy.  But I still hate the word Stupidhead, especially when he's referring to me.  

I love sending and receiving packages and hand-written notes in the mail.  I almost want to start some kind of package-pal thingy where other people who love real mail and packages as much as I do can all send fun surprises to each other in some chain-letter sort of way.  But I hate chain letters because they think they're the boss of me.  And I think it's obvious I can't put into words what I really want to do here.  So it probably isn't going to happen.

Whippoorwill

Two weeks ago Hubba came to me, just as the sun was barely peeking out from behind the mountains, and informed me that "there is something freaky on our swingset".  I looked out the back window and saw that it was a bird - sleeping soundly.  I love birds and felt kind of honored that this little visitor was comfortable enough to nap in our yard.

I was sure that once the sun came out, it would be gone.  After the kids were all sent off to school and I was starting on the breakfast dishes, I glanced out the window and noticed that the bird was still there, now awake.

Does anyone else think it's awesome how the bird decided to rest just above a sign that reads Leisure Time?

After another hour or so, our feathered friend had still not left.  I began to worry that it was injured and went outside for a closer look.  I got some close-up shots and posted them on Facebook, asking if anyone knew what kind of bird this was.

My friend Jes gave me the answer I was looking for - she said it was a Whippoorwill and that I was lucky because they are rarely seen.  I did some research online and found that our visitor matched the description of a Whippoorwill - except for one thing.  I read that because of its nocturnal habits, the Whip-poor-will is infrequently seen.  The other fact that I thought was awesome is that a group of Whippoorwills are collectively known as an 'invisibility'.  Birds with super powers!  Does it get any better?


This bird was definitely not trying to hide.  I was sure that it must be injured and I worried abut one of the fifty million cats in our neighborhood attacking it.  I went back outside to figure out a way to somehow protect it from predators until I could figure what to do next.

I walked over to where the bird sat.  It was not afraid.  It did not fly away.  It watched me, and I admired it.  It looked so peaceful and content.  It was beautiful.  And then it stood.  I froze.  I snapped a picture and then we stood there, staring at each other.
 

I realized right then that I have had birds come visit me often, actually.  And something in my heart told me that this was not a coincidence.  That this bird had come as a way of letting me know that my Heavenly Father is very aware of me.  Without going into more personal details, that's the best way I know how to explain what I felt just then. 

The Whippoorwill turned, sat back down, and closed its eyes.

I just stood there, in the quiet of the morning, appreciating its beauty.  I wondered still if it was tethered by some kind of injury to the spot where it slept.  I had seen that its legs worked fine.  Maybe it had a broken wing?

And then Baby X woke up.  After feeding him some breakfast, I brought him to the window and showed him the bird, still perched above the swings.  He got really excited and wanted a closer look.  I figured it couldn't hurt - there was no way he could get close enough to the bird to harm it in any way.

That Whippoorwill woke right up when Baby X came out there.  It stood again, then tilted its head to the side, sizing him up.

Baby X leaned his belly onto a swing just below the bird and pushed himself off of the ground, laughing as he spread his arms wide and reveled in the feeling of flying.

Before I even realized what was happening, our backyard visitor surprised me by immediately following suit and taking flight as well.  At first I was sad to see it go, but then felt comforted to know that it wasn't injured.  It really had just come for a visit. 

I thought the bird had broken wings.  But no, it was fine.  And now it was off where birds are meant to be - flying free.  Defying gravity.

Once again, a feathered friend had come to teach me a lesson.