Christmas Party

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Eat it!

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I come from a long and hardy line of pioneer women. I am proud of all of them. But one of those proud families has left me with both a curse and blessing. I grew up with a story that has followed me wherever I went. One of these amazing ladies was on the plains and spilled her wheat somewhere en route. Being the resourceful person she was, she promptly baked bread right there. Brigham Young promised her and her family would never starve if they never wasted food. This legend still exists now. One could intellectualize this and say, "duh, if you don't waste you don't starve." However, I have always felt, possibly wrongly, that I have some special obligation to not waste food. So, I wince at quarter bits of hamburger, half-eaten apples and bits of yogurt. I hesitate and think before I throw. My fridge has been sadly filled with bite-size containers of left-overs. I imagined the bony hand of my grandmother slapping my hand if I did not take care of the small bi...
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Bonfire of Vanity

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Last year, as 39 crept into the door, I purchased an internet deal on facials. No big deal. I was feeling the quiet tickle of old-age on my face. Chemical peels seemed to be the answer. One year later and I had finally got around to redeeming the specials. I hate wasting money more than age spots. Having done this before, I was looking forward to a dark room and pleasant smelling stuff on my face. At the time, it did not concern me that I had a different esthetician. Sure, it burned a little more. It was probably working. During the weekend my face went from red like a sunburn to "who drug your face behind a skateboard?" I hunkered at home like a pimply thirteen-year-old. That Sunday, I was in charge of getting the children to sing loudly for Father's Day. No sweat, they always sing so cheerfully for me. In addition, I knew my local gathering of church goers was going to realize I was pregnant. (Yeah, did I mention I was pregnant?) This perfect storm of s...
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Doth evil lurk?

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My son hid himself in the blankets of our bed yesterday. He shouted out, "Mom, Dad come I'm lost, come find me!" I whispered, "If I were a sibling I would pop him on the head and say, 'looks like I found you.' " My husband looked at me with puzzlement, " I wouldn't have done that. I don't think my siblings would have done that. What kind of family did you come from?" I gave him a deer in head lights stare-- hmmmm, I thought: a pack of hyenas, blame the brothers, lack of supervision in the home, is he serious, am I just cruel, what for the love is the right answer here? I never did answer the question. He could have been dead on fooling me. Or, he could be right, what kind of family did I come from? Or, worse, do I just have spontaneous evil that springs from the dark recesses of my heart?...........still waiting, guess I just don't have an answer.
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