Wandering

I have a big assignment due next week in Photography 125, so I've had to spend some time wandering around with a camera. Can I just tell you how much I love wandering. It does a body good to spend a few hours observing the things around you that usually go unnoticed. Sometimes you discover beauty in the most unexpected places.
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For this assignment, I can't take pictures of people, which is hard, because that's what I'm drawn to. I got in my car and drove down to Balboa Park in San Diego. It's a beautiful place with beautiful buildings, a theatre and museums. I wandered into the Photography Museum and got inspired. Then I wandered over to the Museum of Man to look at the artifacts from Mesoamerica. I could picture the Book of Mormon cities as I observed huge stone carved columns, flint tools, and jewelry made of hammered gold. Beautiful.
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Then I wandered around the plaza looking at buildings. I looked up, and down, and all around. This is what I saw:

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A slight improvement over "Car In Driveway." I think I'm on my way out of "automatic" mode.

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Post Script: By the way, if you want to learn how to enlarge the pictures on your blog, visit my friend Lyndsay Johnson, who explains how to do it here.

Pass It On.....

One of the things I love to do is learn. I love learning all sorts of things like: how to use a table saw, how to knit, how to rock climb, how to play the guitar, how the Constitution of the United States works, etc. Obviously, there are some things I enjoy learning more than others. Take math.... I hate learning math. I'm pretty darn sure that a 3rd grader knows more math than I do. Ask my kids, they will confirm this. I haven't been able to help them with math homework since 2005. But, I know even though I hate it, I'll be taking a math class one of these days, because it's something I really need to conquer -- my fear of long division, and x over y
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(whatever that means.)

And scuba diving, don't get me started. Can I just tell you that learning to scuba was the most terrifying experience I've ever had. Ever. It's a miracle that I certified and lived to tell the tale. I think I could write a book on what not to do when learning to scuba -- because I pretty much did, or saw, everything you were not supposed to do. I saw a woman with bulging eyes because she did not clear her mask properly. Bulging eyes!! It was horrifying. On the last day of our last shore dive, I was so fed up with the whole thing that I got into my car wearing my full scuba gear -- wet suit, hood, weight belt, booties, etc., and drove off. Onlookers laughed and pointed as I peeled out of the parking lot, and so did my roommate Kathy when I arrived at home wearing my scuba attire. And, I must say here that I am so grateful for my scuba instructor. He never gave up on me -- even when I had a panic attack at the bottom of the ocean and nearly choked him to death when it came time to "buddy breathe" -- which means: sharing an air regulator underwater with "your buddy." I did not want to share .... so I choked him. True story.

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As much as I hated learning to scuba, I later discovered that I loved scuba diving .... in warm, clear water.... without a wet suit. Right after I certified, I went diving in the Bahamas. It was one of the most magical experiences of my life. Magical. It was like being in a Jacques Cousteau movie -- or the Little Mermaid, complete with Flounder. As I sat on the bottom of the ocean (at night in total darkness), holding hands with my husband of five whole days, I was so glad that I didn't give up. I would have missed out on an experience of a lifetime. Learning is good, it helps us to grow.

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Last week, Claire and I spent some time together learning. I've discovered that having experiences like this with your children makes a great date. We took a cooking class and learned how to cook Chinese food. Although the class was a little disappointing from my point of view (I was expecting a chef with serious experience cooking Asian food), it was perfect for Claire. The techniques offered were for a beginner and they were not intimidating at all. We had a lot of fun. Now Claire is all fired up to cook a Chinese dinner, which we will do next Sunday. We have it all planned, which is another great thing about learning -- sharing what you know.
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I'm a firm believer that once you master a skill you should pass your torch, and light the spark of someone else. You don't have to have a teaching certificate to do this, nor do you have to be a certain age. We can all share what we know to make the world a better place. Torch bearers do not use their talents to make people feel inferior or stupid, they lift and build those around them. They know a secret: there is enough good to go around. There really is. I am so grateful for the people in my life who have lit the spark within me. There have been many and they are all bright lights.

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Last week, not only did I learn, I had an opportunity to assist a Torch Bearer -- my friend Lilly. She is an expert in the field of cake decorating. I am not an expert, but I know how to make cakes -- so that was my part of holding the torch -- I was was the sous chef. It was fun collaborating with Lilly. She does amazing things with frosting. But even more fun was watching the way she lit the spark of the women who attended the class. Before she began Lilly said "I want you all to leave today thinking: I can do this. I can do this." You can you know -- you can really do this!"

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At the end of our session, there was frosting everywhere, including my hair. But, on each table sat boxes of beautifully decorated cupcakes. Everyone looked pleased. As the women left, I heard many say "I can't wait to go home and make these for my family. I had no idea that it would be so easy!" It wasn't easy.... Lilly just has a way of teaching that makes people feel at ease, so that they can learn. She was patient, she was kind, and she was a cheerleader. Torch bearing at it's finest.

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Celebration -- I Think.

All hail April 15th, 2010 -- the day I turn 51.

I have a confession: Having a birthday on April 15th is not the greatest. I don't like sharing my birthday with Income Tax Day or the anniversary of the sinking of the Titanic. Both of those events are grim at best -- unless you are getting money back on your tax return. Or, you are Eden -- who loves anything that has to do with the Titanic.

Today I am officially old. I'm no longer new at being 50, I'm in my 50's. Do you know what happens when you are in your 50's -- AARP starts sending you magazines and weekly letters. Matt doesn't get letters from AARP. That's because he is 49 .... not old. Plus, you pee your pants if you laugh to hard. I've had to start carrying a spare pair of pants in my car. (Maybe that's too much information, but I don't care, because it's my birthday and I can say anything I want.)

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How did AARP find me anyway? I want my name taken off their list. Even though I'm over 50, my spirit is 30 -- and it plans to stay there. I don't need AARP insurance or AARP friends thank you very much! I have friends who are 40 for heaven's sake! (But they are thirty on the inside, just like me.)
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Although I have accepted the fact that I'm old, I'm shocked when I hear myself say: "I'm 51." If you think turning 30 was hard, try saying that -- "I'm 51." It will shend shivers up your spine, just you wait. Even more shocking is looking in the mirror. Shivers...definate shivers. You don't have chorister arms when you are 30,or gray whiskers (which, by the way, differs from facial hair). Nor do you suffer from hot flashes. In fact, my head is sweating right now because it knows that it just turned 51. And what is doubly unfair is that I still get acne. How many people do you know over 50 who still break out? (Maybe it's because I'm still 30 on the inside.) I have a tip for you though so that you will be prepared when you cross over the bridge from young to old: Don't look at yourself up close in the mirror. Stand back. Waaaaaaaaay back. Everyone looks great at a distance.

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Sixty must be a real doozer! And 80 . . . I don't dare think about that one. When you are 80 you are REALLY old. You won't need a mirror when you are 80. You can say whatever you think, even if it's rude, and wear whatever you want. But ... sometimes you have to get fisety to ensure that people don't treat you like a frail baby. The 80 year-olds I know are anything but frail. They hike and ski and ride bikes. One of them even drives a sporty yellow Fiero. They are 30 on the inside too, which gives me hope. I want to be just like them when I grow up.

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Fifty-one ..... how did this happen to me? (Sigh.....)

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I think I need a cupcake. Maybe I need two.

The Power of a Lilac

There is a week during Spring that I look forward to all year long. The week the Lilacs bloom -- which strangely enough, coincides with my birthday -- April 15th. Every year I thank my yard for giving me the ultimate birthday gift (which takes the pressure off my family.) For one brief week my yard is full of purple blooms. Within 7 days, they are gone. In Temecula, Lilacs don't last long, so when they arrive, I must appreciate every single moment that they are here. I go outside every morning to smell them. And I do the same thing just before I go to sleep. My love for them runs deep. I have grandmothers to thank for that.

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In the 1940's when my great grandmother, Nanny Dawe moved into her house on Melbourne Street, she planted a beautiful garden and lined the back yard with Lilac bushes. Eventually, Grandmother Dawe's house became the house where I grew up. My parents bought it after Nanny Dawe died -- on April 15th. I never met her, but I felt I knew her. She left me her flowers which developed into a love for gardening -- her legacy to me.

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Every morning in late Spring, I could smell the perfume of the Lilacs from my bedroom window. I played Barbies beneath their trunks, and pulled off the tiny flowers to make hats for my dolls. As long as I lived on Melbourne Street, the Lilacs bloomed around Memorial Day. I know this because every year I would go with my Grandmother, Nana Farish, to decorate graves. She never purchased flowers for this event, she cut Lilacs -- from my yard.

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Although I loved the Lilacs when I was little, there came a time when I loathed them. It was sometime round 1973. I morphed into a teenager and Memorial Day rolled around. My grandmother came over with her big buckets and began to cut the Lilacs. For some reason, this irritated me. I thought Nana was cheap because she cut backyard flowers rather than doing what I considered "the appropriate thing" -- visiting a florist and buying bouquets of dyed carnations in plastic baskets. This is what adorned most of the grave sites at the cemetery.

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As we set off on our day long journey to honor the dead, the trunk of Nana's bright orange Skylark was filled with dozens of Lilacs. The work began as we arrived at our first stop -- Wasatch Lawn . Nana pulled her yard tools out of the car, and unloaded the buckets of flowers. Then she filled the metal vases at each of our family graves with water from the cemetery hose. We dug the grass away from the graves and placed our flowers on the headstones. Nana tried to tell me stories about her family as we did this, but I was so embarrassed by the yard tools and the Lilacs, I tuned it all out. Plus I wasn't happy about the fact that my official bell bottomed sailor jeans were getting grass stains on the knees. Plus, plus, I was thirsty and I was not about to take a drink from the cemetery hose. I just wanted to get back in the car and get the whole thing over with.

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My behavior then shames me now. But, at that point in my life, I did not appreciate this yearly ritual that included Lilacs, and a lesson that my grandmother was trying to teach. I learned it years later after she died. I lived in California then near the beach. One year, I flew home to Salt Lake to celebrate my birthday, and while I was there, I planned to visit my grandmother's grave. (Did I mention that we shared a birthday -- April 15th.) I knew I needed to bring her a gift of Lilacs. My family no longer lived in the house where I grew up, so I drove to a bush along the side of a road and cut a bouquet with my Swiss Army knife. I drove to the City Cemetery with my roadside offering wrapped in a wet paper towel. As I knelt beside my grandmother's headstone, I smelled the Lilacs before I set them on her grave. Their scent brought her back to me. I remembered the way she looked, and the way she laughed. And I remembered our annual Memorial Day treks and the stories she told as we decorated graves. I didn't even know that all those years ago, I had been listening.

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This is what my grandmother knew and what she wanted me to learn: There is power in the scent of a Lilac -- it can reconnect us with our past.

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Now, when I stand in my yard and drink in the smell of the Lilacs, my mind travels back in time. I'm under the Lilac bushes on Melbourne Street. I see my parents working in the yard, and my grandparents stopping by for a visit. How I miss them. But, just for a moment -- one short week, they are here -- with me.

Serendipity

Today I had to so some Walmart shopping -- a chore I dread. For some reason, no matter how many stands are open (which is usually less than 5), it takes at least 30 minutes to check out. Thirty minutes! I always hunt for the one worker -- a college student, who defies the odds and gets me out of there in record time. I love that woman.

I pushed my cart out to the parking lot dodging cars as I walked. Drivers there never pay attention to the cross walk, which totally annoys me. When I got to my own vehicle, I opened the back door and started the process of unloading -- another thing I don't enjoy. There's always a bag that breaks spilling fruit or vegetables under the seats out of my reach. I find them weeks later when the car starts to smell. Anyway, as I began the process of unloading, I heard a strange sound -- "squeek-er" --just like the squeeker noise in a dog toy. It happened every time I set a bag in the car:

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Bag.... squeek-er..... bag.....squeek-er.

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I looked all over the ground to see if I was stepping on something that was making the sound, but nothing was here. I stood still for a minute to see if I would hear it again, and I did. It was coming from the tree in front of my car. There hidden among the branches was a black bird. I slowly walked over to the tree and looked up thinking to myself: "that is the weirdest noise I've ever heard coming from a bird." I never knew they could make a noise like that! The bird looked straight at me and this time, instead of squeaking, she began to sing. Her song was beautiful -- the melody of Spring. I got lost in the moment and completely forgot that I was at Walmart standing in the middle of an asphalt parking lot. There was green, shimmering light, the little black bird, and me.

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The moment was brief, but it brought a smile to my heart on a day that I really needed it. The spell was broken when the bird flew away. She was frightened off by the slam of a car door -- the man parked next to me. He looked as though he thought I was a little crazy just standing there staring at a tree. No matter -- he didn't hear the music of the bird. The song was just for me.

Serendipity -- discovering beautiful things not sought for. Who knew I would find it in of all places -- Walmart.

A Room with a View

Miracles happen. And when they do, we must record them, no matter how small. This is a miracle.


340 days out of the year, you can't get in the door of this room. But today, it is picture perfect and completely organized (except for the window covering -- which is currently under construction.) I didn't have a thing to do with it either, which makes it even more of a miracle. It brings a smile to my face to know that my daughter can organize herself when she wants to. Sometimes as a mother, you wonder about these things -- if anything that you say or do is sinking in.

On days like this, I want to sit in this room all day and remember the little girl who used to occupy it. Back then there were Polly Pocket dolls and books on the floor. There was a little trundle bed covered with stuffed animals. I miss that little girl and the songs that we used to sing in her bed at night. Now a big girl occupies this room. It is the same girl -- but the newer version sings a different tune. This girl loves cosmetics, and jewelry, and boys (which is a little alarming at times).

I love being a Mother to this girl. I love her even more now than I did the day she was born.

Rock n' Roll

Warning: If you are expecting a post about music, you are going to be disappointed. Sorry. I have more important things to tell you about and they don't involve Elvis or the Beatles. (Although I love Elvis .... and the Beatles.)

Yesterday afternoon as we sat in our family room enjoying Easter Sunday, the room started to rattle. My eyes darted to each of my kids -- and their wide-eyed stares looked right back at me. Then the room started to roll. "Quake" I said in a half whisper. We all sat frozen on the sofa waiting to see what was going to happen next. It usually lasts a few seconds.... but this time, the rolling got stronger. The pots and pans hanging on a rack over my kitchen island started to sway and clang like they were doing a festive dance, only it wasn't festive, it was scary. "We should run outside!" Eden yelled. "No! Stay here and get under the arches in the entryways" I yelled back. We all ran for cover while the dogs watched and wondered what to do with themselves.

This is what I thought about while I was standing under the arch:

72 hour kits -- check
water -- check
blankets -- check
food - check
generator - check
portable toilet - check
dog food -- almost out
tent -- too small
toilet paper - not enough

Although I felt like I was standing on a suspended rope bridge, I was calm because I knew I had the things I would need in case the quake got worse. We were lucky this time -- it didn't. The quake ended and we resumed our places on the sofa with hearts that were pounding and hands that were still shaking. Then Claire said "Mom, I think we need to spend some time updating our 72 hour kits. The cloths in mine are at least 4 years old. They don't fit me anymore. And.... we need to put them in our bedrooms so that we can get to them in case this happens at night when it's dark." Claire was right. We need to take another inventory of our supplies and add to what we already have. So that's what we are doing today -- updating our emergency kits. And, while it's on my mind, we are going to Costco to buy a bigger tent and dry pack some dog food so it will last a few years instead of a few months.

I'm so thankful for a living prophet who admonishes us often to be prepared -- physically, financially, and spiritually. Following this counsel has given me peace when my neighborhood has been surrounded by the smoke of wildfires, when Matt was out of work for 6 months, and when my house rattles and the floor rolls.

In case you don't have a 72 hour kit for each member of your family, go here. Gather what you have and then purchase the remainder bit by bit until you have your kits completed. You will sleep easier at night knowing that you will be ready in case disaster strikes.

The Country Bunny and Other Easter Delights

When I was a little girl in elementary school I loved Easter more than I loved Christmas. I remained true to the Easter Bunny even when I began to doubt Santa. I think it had something to do with the fact that one night I saw large rabbit tracks in the snow outside my bedroom window. And I even heard a noise like hopping. I knew it was the Easter Bunny, but not just any Easter Bunny. I knew it was The Country Bunny. I have Miss Lewis to thank for that.

I remember clearly the day that Miss Lewis, the librarian read us a story about a little mother bunny who wanted more than anything to be an Easter Bunny. The story captivated me. Maybe you've read it too. The book was called -- The Country Bunny and the Little Gold Shoes by Du Bose Heyward . Not only did I love the story, I loved the illustrations. One in particular stands out -- the room in the Easter Bunny castle with all of the painted Easter eggs. I wanted to paint Easter eggs that looked just like that. My wish came true.

That same year, my grandmother made sugared panoramic Easter eggs with me -- the kind that have a peep hole with a little scene. They were magical. I remember molding sugar inside a plastic egg and decorating the edges with Royal frosting. It was so much fun. We only made these eggs once, but it is memory I treasure. I don't see Panoramic eggs much anymore -- unless I pay a visit to See's Candy. I think they sell a few. But .... I'm on a diet so I stay away from that place. Too dangerous and tempting for someone like me. I'm just too in love with lemon truffles. I know I would cave. I would.

I want to make sugared eggs with my own children. But not this year. Again with the diet thing. I just can't be around all that sugar. But next year..... next year I'm going big. Sugared eggs and other Easter delights -- like real grass Easter baskets and painting my mouth with a candy coated malt ball egg. Who doesn't love light blue lips! Maybe I will even post a picture.

I love Easter traditions as much as I love Valentine's Day. Most of all, I love what it represents. A loving Savior who died for us and who was resurrected so that we might live.

Just in case you would like to try making sugared eggs with your family, here's the recipe. I'm also including my instructions for real grass Easter Baskets. In case you've never made one, they are easy and they make a great table decoration. One of my friends puts these all over her house. It makes it look like Spring.

Happy Easter Everyone!

Panoramic Easter Eggs

TO MAKE THE EGGS:

1 egg white

3 1/2 cups granulated sugar

1/2 cup confectioners’ sugar

Beat the egg whites until foamy. Into a separate bowl sift the sugars; stir to mix well. Pour the egg white into sugars. Keep stirring and kneading until the mixture is the consistency of damp sand.

SHAPE EGG: Fill the 2 halves of the mold or plastic egg, packing down firmly to eliminate any voids so the egg will be smooth. It is advisable to shape only one egg at a time. Meanwhile, cover the remaining mixture with a damp towel.

Using the edge of a spatula or the top edge of a knife scrape across the edge of the molds to remove excess sugar. Now they need to be hollowed out; holding the mold in the palm of your hand use a spoon to scoop out the moist sugar, leaving a shell 1/4 to 3/8-inch thick.Place a stiff piece of cardboard on top of the egg mold. Flip the cardboard upside down so that the half now rests on the cardboard. Remove mold. Repeat with other half using another piece of cardboard.Dry 10 minutes in a 250 degree oven.

Once the halves are almost dry, carefully carve away a semicircle in the narrow end of each so when the halves are glued together you have a round peephole (as pictured). Carefully scrape the bottom of one half to make a small flat spot for a base. Continue to dry at 250 degrees for an additional 10 minutes.

Royal Icing For decorating and gluing the halves together:

(Note: Sometimes you can find Royal Icing in the cake decorating section of craft stores. All you need to do is add water and food coloring. This is what I use instead of the recipe above. I included this recipe in case you can't get packaged Royal Icing.)

3 egg whites, at room temperature

4 cups confectioners’ sugar

1/2 teaspoon cream of tartar

Food coloring

In a mixer bowl beat together eggs, sugar, and cream of tartar. Beat fort 7 to 10 minutes until very stiff and shiny. For a stiffer icing, add more sugar, 1 tablespoon at a time until desired consistency.If different colors are required, add food coloring to small batches of the icing. It dries very quickly (rock hard in 30 minutes) so cover the portion you are not immediately using with a damp towel.

CREATE YOUR PANORAMA: Place a small amount of icing in the bottom half of the egg. Quickly press small objects into the icing. Add Easter grass, if desired, and press into icing.

GLUE HALVES TOGETHER: First check the two halves meet. Scrape away excess sugar. Pipe a thin line of icing around the edge of the bottom egg. Press the top in place. Rub around the edge to smooth excess icing. Let egg sit for 30 minutes to give glue a chance to dry.

DECORATE: Pipe icing on seam to conceal; pipe flowers, etc. on egg with royal icing, or use store bought decorations and attach with royal icing.

Do NOT refrigerate finished egg since the icing will become soft and sticky upon refrigeration. Rather, set aside in a dry place until Easter bunny is ready. These eggs will last many years if you keep them in a plastic container so bugs don't get to them. Although they look delicious, they are rather tasteless, so eating them is not recommended. Just enjoy their delicate beauty for many Easters to come.

Real Grass Easter Baskets

(Make these about 10 to 12 days before Easter so the grass is full and green.)

Plastic wrap or grocery store plastic bags that don't have any holes in them.
Whole wheat kernels (about 1/4 cup per basket)
Vermiculite (found at any garden center)
Basket to grow it in
Clean spray bottle
Water
A sunny window


How to make it:

Cut your cellophane or large enough to line the basket plus stick out over the top edge by about one inch. Make sure you use one piece to prevent leaking. Or... you can use the grocery store plastic bags as a liner. Use two to prevent water leakage.


Fill the basket to within 1 inch of the top with vermiculite. Vermiculite is much lighter than soil, and stays moist easily.

Cover the top of the vermiculite with the seed, then sprinkle a 1/4 inch layer of vermiculite over the seed, and water it with the spray bottle. Lightly cover the seeds with plastic wrap and place near a sunny window.

Mist the seed every day.

Remove the plastic wrap when you see little sprouts of grass starting to grow.

In about 10 days you will have a good covering of grass. At this point you can trim away and plastic that hangs over the basket.

New Aprons for Spring

Did you know I sell aprons? I do! I can't sell them in my Etsy shop however because I didn't make them. They are from India. Anthropologie sells these, that's where I fell in love with them.

If you are interested in purchasing one, they are $40.00 including shipping. Just send me an email at: crystalbeutler@msn.com

These also come in children's sizes. Perfect Mother-Daughter Gift. Hey.... that reminds me. Wouldn't an apron make a nice Mother's Day gift -- or a shower gift for a new bride????? It's that season you know.

Take a look!!!

Scarlet

Selia

Macy

Reese