Ta-MAY-toes, Ta-MA-toes

Eden and I were running errands today and pulled up to a drive through for a soda. While we were in line we heard the person ahead of us ordering . . .

"I'll have some strawberry FAN-ta please."

Eden said "That just drives me NUTS! It's pronounced FAWN-TA, not FAN-ta!!!!! Haven't they seen the commercial??? I can't stand it when people say words wrong. Like when people say "melk" instead of "milk." Doesn't that just bug you mom?

I said "I have to confess Eden, I thought it was "FAN-ta" too . . . until I heard the commercial.

Eden said "yeah, but "melk?" There's no "e" in milk! It just bugs me to death.

I said "you know what really bugs me Eden. I drives me nuts when people refer to the Young Women organization at church as "Young Womens."

"Are you going to Young Womens tonight?" Not ok people!!! It's already PLURALLLLLLL!

And you know what else Eden, I hate it when people say "crik" instead of "creek." I had no idea Millcrick canyon was really Millcreek Canyon until I moved to California. My entire family always referred to it as Mill-crik!! Who knew?

I had to change the subject right then and there because I started to get really worked up! And seriously . . . what a waste of energy, worrying about that when there are bigger problems in my life like -- what in the world am I going to make for dinner when there's nothing in the refrigerator except week old "chow-da."

As I drove off, I realized I have no room to talk when it comes to mispronouncing words. I remembered the time when Matt and I were eating and I said

"I don't like the taste of AS-PAR-TA-Me."

He said "What?????? Do you mean "AS-PAR-TAME???"

And then he started laughing so hard I thought he was going to fall out of his chair. I felt like a total ID-E-OT . . . (not to be confused with "id-jut.")

He never lets me live that down, by the way. Every time we go out to a restaurant he says "Pass me a package of as-par-ta-me, would ya?"

Ta-MAY-toes, Ta-MA-toes . . . that's all I have to say about that!

Post Script: And while I'm complaining, can I just say how much Disney Channel and Nickelodeon annoy me. I can hear it in the background as I'm typing this. Everyone speaks in a yelling voice. Everyone. Don't believe me? Just listen to an episode of I-Carly.

P.S.S. If you are curious about the proper use of Young Women, scroll down and look at the Young Women article in the middle of this page . Or, visit http://www.lds.org and look at term under the button "serving in the church." It's Young Women people. Young. Women.

Sleeping Beauty

This is where you can find her . . . every afternoon at around 3:15.

Her days are long. Up at 4:30 a.m., home at 3:00 p.m., sometimes 4:00 if there's dance practice. And then there's homework, dance classes, youth group . . . once in a while she manages to hang out with friends.

I admire her -- how she fits it all in.

I think back to my own high school days and wonder "How did I do it?" I remember a similar routine, and a napping place -- on the floor behind the door in my brother's room, next to the heater vent. I could sleep like the dead with that warm air blowing on my tired bones.

How I wish for a place like that now -- only not on the floor, my back wouldn't have it. I'd end up looking like a turtle that rolled onto it's shell.

Cinderella's Slipper

A package arrived in the mail last night.

My face lit it up because it was for me -- a box of new shoes. I was oh so excited because as of lately, I own two pair of shoes -- bright yellow flip flops, and a pair of black Brighton shoes I've worn for over 6 years. The rest have mysteriously disappeared into the black hole -- Claire's room.

Claire got to the box before me and began prying it open.

Hey! Stop right there Little Missy, that box is for me! I cried. But it was to late, she already had her foot in my new Topsiders.

"These will never fit you, Mom" she said" while rolling her ankle admiring the blue leather.

Give me that, I said, and I grabbed the other shoe.

Curses, she was right! I couldn't get the shoe on to save my life. It was ultra small -- and from me, that's saying a lot -- I wear a size 6 1/2, narrow!

Has Mr. Sperry taken a look at the average American woman lately? No one wears a shoe that small. Who are these supposed to fit -- elves?

I feel like the ugly stepsister.

Wishes

This morning, as part of our daily ritual, Elfie and I went outside to the back yard. It was hot, and still. The feeling of late summer lingered in the air. I took a look around. Everything looked so sad, and dry.

The leaves on my lilac bushes have a layer of film that looks like dryer lint, and the hydrangeas are hanging their heads as though they are ashamed.

I said out loud with a big sigh "Oh Elfie . . . I wish it would rain. The plants need a bath."

I went back in the house and made my way into my office, tripping over piles of chaos that I can't seem to get rid of, no matter how hard I try.

I turned on Pandora and went to work.

A few hours passed as I sat there singing along with James Taylor, when all of the sudden, the room got really dark. I looked out the window and saw black clouds hovering over my house, and monsoon winds whipping yard debris in the air. If I didn't know better, I could have sworn I saw Miss Gulch riding her bike, high in the sky.

Thunder ensued, and then . . . rain. Just a little bit, but it was enough to bring that delicious fragrance of a storm.

I opened all the windows, even though the wind was still blowing dirt and dust everywhere. It was worth it, just to sniff the air.

I love it when wishes come true.

Burnout Blues

I don't want to get up. . . .
Get dressed. . .
Clean up . . .
Run errands . . .
Write . . .
Create . . .
Carpool kids . . .
Cook . . .
I don't even want to play with the dog.

Sometimes, I'm just plain old tired.

So don't expect anything from me today. I have no energy to be witty or wise. I've got to muster up all my strength just to brush my teeth.

I don't know why I get like this, but I do. And it bothers me . . . a lot.

Maybe I need a jolt from the bug zapper.

Lord of the Flies

Early yesterday morning as I was making my car pool rounds, an army assembled outside the Beutler house. A general rallied the ground troops who surrounded the perimeter, and waited silently in the bushes for the command to advance. The air force made ready in the garbage cans sitting patiently on the curb for the trash collectors. The attack was launched just as I pulled into my driveway.

I got out of the car and walked to my front door. There were flies and ants everywhere, and I mean EVERYWHERE. I'm not talking about just a few insects, it was a massive invasion, like nothing I've ever seen.

Where did they all come from? Was it the heat? Did someone leave the lid off the garbage cans while I was out of town last weekend? Did they hear that relatives were visiting and I wanted the house to stay clean?

I stepped over the ant army and dodged the fly squadron that was circling over head and ran for cover in the hall closet that held my weapons of war -- ant spray and a fly swatter. But of course, they had been removed from their designated spots by a husband, or a child in a previous battle. (Why is it no one but me puts things back where they belong???)

In desperation, I improvised -- I grabbed a wet dish towel and began whipping it around like a crazy person. I had some success, but there were just too many winged devils to battle on my own. I needed reinforcements, but my troops had been assigned to the classroom and beach patrol. So, I did what any good officer would do, I retreated to the upper floor for an afternoon of KP.

At 1500 hours, my visiting relatives came home from the beach and Claire and Eden came home from school. Every time someone walked in the door the enemy launched another attack. The 2nd, 3rd and 4th airborne flew in tight formation in and around our heads while the ground troops marched around the kitchen sink.

"Shut all the doors, we are at war!" I yelled.

But no one listened. The enemy advanced, and the eerie buzz in the air get louder and louder.

At 1700 hours, I couldn't take it anymore, so I barked a command to the troops lounging around in the family room:

"Claire, get off that couch and find the fly swatter. Eden, get a towel and start whacking at window sills!"

Claire climbed on a stool and fished around on the top of the refrigerator and found our secret weapon." She said "Hey Mom, look at this, remember last year you bought this electronic bug zapper! It's just what we need."

I had to stop working and give myself a pat on the back for buying such a marvelous tool, and hiding it so well that I forgot all about it. It was a tender mercy that it reappeared just in the nick of time.

I swished the zapper in the air a few times and heard a popping sound that signaled the end for one of the air squadron. My niece Katie said "Hey, let me see that, it looks fun." She went into the living room and started swishing.

"Show no mercy, and take no prisoners!" I yelled.

My brother-in-law Winn said "Man, I wish we had more than one of these, we could could have a competition." That's when I knew it was time to launch our counter attack. We devised a game to see who could zap the most flies.

The battle raged on throughout the night. Finally, it was my turn to patrol the grounds. I made the mistake of trying to zap while I was doing the dishes and touched the metal net with a wet finger. I received a shock that could revive the dead battery on a car. The warning label on the zapper is not there for decoration folks -- it's true. Respect the tools.

At the end of the day, the humans reigned supreme. We defeated the mighty insect army.

Congratulations, Katie, you are the Lord of the Flies.

And now, I must sign off. It's time to clean up the casualties of war.

Post Script: Seriously, if you get one of these bug zappers, keep it away from little kids. The shock you get if you touch the metal was enough to stun me as bad as one of the flies. Ask my kids. I screamed like a banshee.

Back to School Essentials

Do you remember when you were in school, how there was some fad "must have" that you couldn't live without? It happened every year -- even in high school.

1967 - "Mom, I need a Footsie. Everyone at school brings them to recess, and I am the only one who doesn't get to Footsie across the asphalt. I'm left out Mom. I really, really need one."

1968 - "Mom, I need Clackers! This kid in my class has one and we were playing with it at recess. It's so much fun. I really need my own so that we can do Clackers together."

1973 - "Mom, I need a Pet Rock. And don't jut go outside and get one from the yard and put it in a box. I need an official Pet Rock. Everyone is bringing their Pet Rocks to school and pretending they are really pets. I need a pet too Mom. It's the only thing I want for Christmas."

1975 - "Mom, I need a clogs. Everyone, and I mean everyone is wearing clogs. I'm the only sophomore at Highland that doesn't have a pair. Even Dave McFarlane has clogs and he's a guy. They have to be clogs from the Clog Shop in Trolley Square, Mom. Have you got that? Clog Shop in Trolley Square. It's the only thing I want for Christmas. Oh, and one more thing . . . I need the giant Lip Smackers. It's a new lip gloss that's really, really cool, much better than Chapstick."

1977 - Mom, I need a pair of Nike shoes -- the ones the Charlie's Angels wear. All my friends are getting a pair so we can match. It's our very last year to be Charlie's Angels together Mom. I need a pair so we can take a picture."

Good times. Good times.

***

I needed to remember this today because I'm being hounded (and I mean HOUNDED) for the latest fad, and it's driving me crazy - Silly Bands.

Just thought you should know so that you can be on top of things as you are buying your back-to-school supplies, and avoid the whining that comes with the "must have" begging.


Post Script: In case you were wondering, I sprained my ankle on the Footsie, bruised my arms on the Clackers, never got a pet rock, or the Charlie's Angel's shoes, but I somehow survived. I did get the clogs -- and wore them all three years of high school.

Do You Want Fries With That?

My daughter's appetite boggles my mind. She usually eats like a bird. When we dine out, she orders from the kid's menu, takes two bites and says "K, I'm done. Let's go." The rest of us haven't even started eating yet.

Or . . . when it's dinnertime, she will say "I'm not hungry" and then at 10:30 p.m. say "I'm starving!" and make herself toast and eggs while everyone else is trying to get to sleep.

Today after school, I called Claire from the road and said "I'm pulling into McDonalds, do you want a smoothie?"

She said "Yes!! And I also want a 6 piece chicken nuggets . . . a hamburger . . . and can I have some fries too??"

Are you kidding me???? Where does she think she's going to put all that food -- in a hollow leg?

She must have forgotten to take lunch money this morning.

Post Script: In case you are wondering, the white stuff is flour from an ultimate game of Steal the Flag.

Yessssssss.

Late this evening I ran to the store. I pulled into the strip center parking lot and became part of massive frenzy of cars. People everywhere! No place to park! If I didn't know better, I would have thought it was the day after Thanksgiving sale. The women in the crowd all had a haggard look on their face towing kids in hand. I feel for them -- I'm wearing that same face. But if I can make it just 12 hours, I will be on the road to freedom.

School starts tomorrow.

Yesssssssss.

Organic Enchilada Will Understand

Bethany, I took this for you.




I wish you could have seen this the way I first saw it my first night in Bermuda -- up close, in the dark. We were driving around the island. A full moon was peeking through a sky full of clouds. Then I saw this cemetery with the ocean glimmering in the background. It was hauntingly beautiful. I felt like I was in a scene of a pirate movie. I yelled out loud "I need a tripod and a wide angle lens!!!" But no one was listening, except maybe a few ghosts. It was magazine worthy, I tell you.

I have to say that Bermuda is full of the most beautiful old cemeteries, the prettiest I've ever seen, and I didn't get a good shot of any of them -- I was always in a fast moving car.

But you get the gist of it, don't you?

Love,

Crystal B

Post Script: In case you are wondering what this is all about, you might want to read this, along with the comments. It will explain everything. Incidentally, Bethany writes a great blog. Check her out here.

And So It Ends

At the House of Beutler today has been "de-claired" a holiday. Here's why. . .



Aunt Becky . . . as requested, here's a picture of Claire with an open smile, just for you.



We're off to buy some caramel apples.

Waiting for Splash Mountain

Disclaimer: If you don't have a teen living in your house, pull up a chair and read this carefully. Maybe read it twice, because those cute little kids of yours ..... they are going to turn on you one of these days. I know you don't want to believe it, but it's true. Consider yourself warned. (You can thank me later, when you are taking your own teen to register for school, and I'm off on the golf course enjoying life.)




See these two adorable children . . .

They thought I was the coolest mom in the world. They LOVED school, and really got into school activities like "wacky hair day." They were so excited when I volunteered to help -- it didn't matter what, they just wanted me to come to their class once a week. They actually begged "Pleeeeease be one of the Room Moms!" So I did -- almost every year. And when I walked into the class, they would give me a friendly wave and whisper to their friends: My Mom is here!

That was then. 
 This is now:

Eden and I got in the car this morning to register for 8th grade. As we were driving, I received a specific set of instructions. It went something like this:

Eden:
Mom, listen and listen carefully. When we get to the school, no talking, no waving, no asking me if I eat lunch with the kid standing in front of us.
No complimenting any one's new school outfit.
No smiling, no making friends.
Just stand there and look straight ahead. I repeat, stand there and look straight ahead.
I'm serious mom.
Do. Not. Embarrass. Me. This. Year.

Me in Denial: What in the world are you talking about? I never embarrass you!!!

Eden: 
Mom, you do. You are embarrassing.
I hate it when you ask me who I'm waving at, and why I don't say "hi" to some random girl we walk by.
And I really hate it when you try to chit chat with my friends with your "Did you have a fun summer . . ." high pitched voice.

Just get out of the car and walk to the line without looking at anyone, talking to anyone, or waving at anyone, O.K.???

I mean it Mom.

Then, Eden gave me the evil eye. I burst out laughing -- so did he.

He wasn't kidding when he said that stuff, nevertheless, it was a funny moment between the two of us.

I got out of the car and said in my best tour guide voice: 
I'm walking . . . I'm walking . . . not smiling . . . not smiling . . . how am I doing Eden, is this what you want?

Eden: 
No. You are talking. Just go look for your friend Channin, and stay put. That's the only person you are allowed to talk to while we are here. Got it?

We walked in silence to the first registration line which wrapped half way around the building. There was an ice cream truck parked along the curb playing happy, peppy music -- a Disney tune from the Little Mermaid.

Eden whispered under his breath: They are trying to make this a fun and friendly, but don't you think it sort of feels like Splash Mountain? Fun and peppy in the beginning, and as you round the corner, the music changes and everything gets dark in dreary right before you fall off a big cliff???

He's right. It did feel like waiting for Splash Mountain, but nobody was buying it. They all knew what was on the inside of the building --teachers, books, and class schedules. The big cliff was coming -- to put a damper on the freedom of summer vacation.

I had to muffle my laugh because I didn't want to be "embarrassing."

Eden's best comment of the day:

I'm going to be so mad if the world ends in 2012, and I've wasted all this time going to school.

Only he would think of something like that.

We Owe It All to Him.

Meet the Nicest Guy in the World.


Not, Matt ... the guy next to him. (Sorry Matt, but you know what I mean, don't you?)

This is Clarence. Matt loves him like a brother mainly because Clarence can kick his butt on the ski slopes which balances out the fact that Matt can kick Clarence's butt on a bicycle. But it also has something to do with Clarence being really funny, smart, and kind. He would give you the shirt off his back -- if you needed it. He really would.

These two Ying and Yang friends met in college when they worked as bus boys at Sundance. Oh the stories they tell -- most of them involve ski injuries, blood, and Clarence's dad stitching them up.

I didn't meet Clarence until about 10 years later, when we went rock climbing at a gym in Provo. And I knew right then why Matt thought so much of him. He made me laugh my head off and gave Matt a thumbs up when I wasn't looking which I interpreted as "She's cool."

We never would have made it to Bermuda if it weren't for Clarence. We owe it all to him. He lives there you know -- with his ultra cool wife Kris, and their adorable daughter Tabby. That was my favorite part of Bermuda -- hanging out with the Hofheins.

Thank you Clare for the best trip ever. We had so much fun with you guys and Gwen and George too. You were all so, so good to us. More than we deserved.

We will never forget our week with you, especially when Matt gave his talk in church and mistakenly said "I love to ride in the Tour de France" instead of "I love to watch the Tour de France." (He does that a lot you know -- messes up words.) It's up to you whether or not you want to burst the bubble and tell your church members that Matt is not famous.

I hope we see you in February so we can ogle over your new house, and romp in the snow, and play games that make us pee our pants laughing.

Just one caveat -- we have to eat dinner at the Tree Room for old time's sake, O.K.? I'm just dying for Pepper Steak, aren't you?

The St. Hamilton Street Fair

Not much to say about this other than the St. Hamilton street fair is really fun, especially when you get to ride the ferry there instead of taking a bus.

Appetite Suppressant

After Crystal Caves we lunched at the only place open for miles -- an ice cream shop. Nothing like biting into your sandwich and discovering a 14 inch brown hair that doesn't belong to you.



Seriously sickening.

Water and Light

I woke up this morning to the sound of rain. Lots and lots that pounded the balcony making a beautiful splattering sound. It was a relief to hear the rain, which you might think a funny thing to say when I am vacationing on a tropical island. It was a relief because the people in Bermuda needed it. Every house has a special roof that channels the rain into underground cisterns. If it doesn't rain for a while, the cisterns run dry which means no showers, no clean laundry, no running the dishwasher.



Before we got to the island, it hadn't rained in over two weeks. I felt so guilty taking showers in an ultra fancy bathroom when our friends Kris and Clarence were most likely taking sponge baths and wishing for clean cloths. But this morning, my worries were carried down the drains with the rain.

We decided that in spite of the weather, we were going to have an adventure, so we paid a visit to the Crystal Caves which happen to be right next door to the Mormon Church here. So odd, caves in the middle of a neighborhood, but there they were, at the end of a long path bordered with huge trees.



Have you ever been in a big cave? I love them -- that is when they are fully lit so that you can look around and see the natural wonders. They far surpass anything man made. Look at this ...... isn't this magnificent? Billions and billions of tiny drops of water made this and it took hundreds and hundreds of years.



The cave smells of minerals and dampness and the only sound you hear is the slow drip, drip, drip of water falling into the mineral pools. When the light illuminates the stalactites, it casts an ethereal glow that feels almost sacred. It's like being in the center of a diamond.

We learned that two boys discovered these caves in the early 1800's when they were hunting for a lost ball. They lowered themselves into the cave with a small lantern and what they saw is so different that what I'm looking at right now. I know because the guide showed us what the cave looks like by lantern light --- it's eerie like something out of Lord of the Rings. I felt like whispering "My Preciousssssss" but I didn't want to steal the thunder from our guide who was quite the comedian.

Before we left, we stood in total darkness -- the blackest of black darkness. It's quite frightening. We saw absolutely nothing. Not one speck of light, not one shadow of rock, or a person, or your hand in front of your face. The quite sounds of dripping water were replaced with frantic pleas "Turn on the Light!!! Turn on the Light!!"" Such a cold and lonely feeling. It only lasted a few seconds here in the cave. Can you imagine what it would be like to live like that all the time? Awful.

It takes work to get out of the dark. Even here in this cave. We had to walk up lots of steep stairs. Why didn't they seem so steep and long on the way down? I can never figure that out. I had to stop and rest more than I want to admit, but I did it, and I made it out into the light of day -- into the pouring rain with air that was fresh and clean.

It was beautiful, and the wet made all the colors of the trees and stone walls so brilliant they almost looked fake -- but not really. I could hear the singing frogs who lived in the trees harmonizing with the music of the rain.

It's amazing how things change when there is light.

Post Edit: I was pretty excited that I actually shot a decent photo inside a cave without a flash. Here's how I did it . . . in case you were wondering. I set my camera on the hand rail because I didn't have a tripod. ISO set at 1600, F-stop set at 5.0, Shutter-speed set at 0.8