Gray Skies.

It's a blustery day here in Temecula.   Cloudy skies, cold air and rain. Lots of it.  I'd sort of gotten used to shorts weather.  But today, I had to put on two sweaters and crank up the heat, which the thermostat monitor did not appreciate.  I won't name names, because I'm guessing you have someone at your house that freaks out too - if you turn the dial past 67.  We call our thermostat monitor Mr. Krabs -- as in Sponge Bob. (In fact, I think there is even a Sponge Bob episode where Mr. Krabs tries to control the thermostat at the Krusty Crab. Everyone is covered in a layer of ice before he relents and turns up the heat.  Three out of four Beutlers found it quite amusing.)


I'm having a blustery day too -- which makes it hard to write.  Sometimes you get news that sits a little hard, and it takes a while to digest.  That's me today.  I'm digesting hard news.


I need a few days off to mull things over.  I will be back as soon as the skies clear and I can think straight.


This storm will pass. They always do. That's the good thing about blustery days -- they don't last forever. And, they make us appreciate the sunlight.

Egg-a-phobic

What are you usually doing at 4:30 a.m. on a weekday? Me, I'm fast asleep dreaming about something bizzar, like chasing bacon that looks like snakes, or flapping my arms and flying through the sky. But not today. Today, my body was half awake, in the kitchen making breakfast for a crew of seminary students -- one of whom was Claire. While the rest of my neighborhood was still slumbering, I peeled potatoes, chopped onions, and had 4 frying pans on the stove full of hash browns.


At 6:00, I met my friend Rachel over at our church building where we finished the job.  (I should mention that the seminary students meet there each morning before school.)   Rachel brought ham, orange juice and a bunch of other stuff, and we began arranging a buffet line for breakfast burritos.


We had one job left -- cooking eggs. Lots and lots of them. I was prepared to take on the job alone because  knew Rachel has an egg phobia. She avoids them like the plague. In all the years I've known her, I've never seen her eat one. But when I got out all the egg cartons, Rachel said "Here, I'll do that."   That's when you know how much someone loves their children -- and their friend's children too.  Look at her happily smiling away . . . .

She stared her enemy right in the face and cracked 54 eggs into a giant bowl. That's enough to make an egg lover gag.  You've got to admire that.  

I sympathize because I used to have an egg phobia too -- when I was young, my sister and my aunt used it as a means of torture.  All they had to do was start talking about finding a chicken leg when cracking an egg open, and it was all over for me.   In fact, I have to stop thinking about it right this minute, or I will have egg nightmares when I get back to my regular sleep routine.


Once we finished with the eggs (which I am not thinking about) an army of teenagers assembled in the kitchen and made themselves a burrito.   It looked to me like "breakfast day" in seminary is the day when everyone attends -- that line was looooong.  It didn't end until all the food was gone.   Thank you Human Garbage Disposal Boys -- your repeat business saved me a trip to the parking lot dumpster.

It was fun hanging out with the teens in the early hours before school. Glad though, that my turn to cook only comes once a year.  I don't think I could handle getting up at 4:30 every day.  I might have to take a nap this afternoon -- and try not to dream about eggs.

I've Found a New Home

Good news.  You don't have to worry about me any longer -- I've found a new book club.


Actually, I have semi-attended this book club for over a year now, but only on occasion.   Last time I went, the conversation was so funny that I fell on the floor laughing.  Kristen's retell (and demonstration) of the time her mother taught her girl scout troop a dance routine was epic.  I left thinking that I might need to attend more often, wearing Depends if the humor is always that good. (Does anyone else have the problem of peeing when you laugh too hard??)

When Book Club No. I disbanded I grieved, then realized I had a place to go -- if I wanted one.   And I do!  I do!  So, I committed to being a regular member of Club II.  I'm really excited about it.

Club II, is organized a bit differently than Club I.

• It meets at night.
• Membership is not limited to 12 people, anyone can come and participate.
• Books are selected at the beginning of the year by the group, not the person hosting for the month.
• Food is not the emphasis, books are the emphasis.
 

Club II met last Thursday eve.  The selection for January was Ketura and Lord Death -- a young adult read that is a fairy tale of sorts. I have to confess, I didn't read it, mainly because I waited until the last minute to download the ebook, and discovered that Barnes and Noble didn't have one.  Plus, I'm not a big fan of young adult reads, which probably accounts for my last minute attempt to buy the book.


But, since I committed to be a full time member, I went to the meeting, and I'm so glad I did because the discussion was amazing. Everyone had marked their favorite passages, so we went around and shared (the readers shared, I listened).  Some of the lines were really moving.  I loved what everyone had to say.  I learned that Ketura is full of symbolism with a little historical fiction and romance thrown in for good measure.  I left feeling like I had to drive to Barnes and Nobel right then to buy the book.

This, my friends, is why I truly need to be part of a book club  -- the camaraderie of great women, laughter, and sharing the excitement of a really good read.   I always leave uplifted.


Thanks Maria for being a wonderful hostess.  And thanks Club II for pulling me in and giving me a home.

Post Script:  Our next read is These is My Words.  Good book, in case you are looking for one. 

True Confessions No. 2 - I Stole Rosie's Word of the Year

The other day I got an email from my friend Rosie.  We met a couple of years ago at Spark and had so much fun together that we stayed in touch.  She's such a kindred spirit -- sometimes I think we are living parallel lives.

The purpose of Rosie's email -- deciding on a "word of the year." I don't know if you do that, but I've noticed that a lot of women, including Rosie and I, pick a word each year to use as a mantra of sorts.  It reminds and inspires us as we press through our 365 days.


Rosie was mulling over several words, all of them good.  My favorite wasn't a word, it was a sentence -- "Do Laundry."  I could use that mantra.  But, Rosie had another word that spoke to me personally -- something I really need. So, I stole it -- I stole Rosie's word. I feel a little bad about it, but since we live parallel lives, I think she will understand.

It's now official, my word for 2011 is . . . . 

Focus

Those of you who know me are probably thinking "It's about time!!!!" I really do need to stop wandering around like a chicken with my head cut off and focus.  My inability to do this stems from the million thoughts going on in my head that never seem to shut off.  It's a burden.  

For starters, I begin work on a project and 20 minutes later, I'm diverted by thoughts that take me in a completely different direction.  I stop what I'm doing and move on to something else.  I have a lot of unfinished business around here which includes half knit sweaters, piles photographs that have never made it into albums, crammed cupboards, paint that never made it onto the walls, and a craft room that looks like a bomb went off . . . it's shameful.


Not only that, I don't savor important moments with people I care about because I'm thinking about the disorder in my life, and all the things on my "to do" list.  I'm not focused on what is right in front of me, I'm lost in thought.



So this year, I am really going to work on staying in the moment.   If I am at lunch with a friend, I'm going to listen and talk to that friend.  If I start to paint a room, I'm going to finish it right away, and not leave it for 2015.


I kicked off 2011 with a de-clutter project.  For the past 2 weeks, I have made time to to work on purging, and when I felt the urge to walk away and do something else, my "word" reminded me that I needed to stay put and finish the task at hand.

Would you believe that I'm actually having some success this year!  I focused, and now have 4 clean closets and an organized storage unit!!  I've only got one more to closet to go and I am done!  What a relief.

Incidentally, the urge to purge must be traveling round my neighborhood.  When I was driving the car pool this morning, house after house had piles of stuff out for pickup by the local thrift shops.  It looked like a community garage sale.

Even Santa is de-cluttering his summer house.  In case you are interested, he's giving away a sofa and a mattress. The sign on the sofa says "Free."  (As I was snapping this picture, the car pool finally got to see Santa's pot bellied pig, who was out in the front yard this morning sniffing at an Ab-Lounge.  Good to know Santa is trying to tone up after his December milk and cookies binge.)

Come February, Temecula is going to be one tidy town.  And so is the Beutler house . . . because I focused.

***

Thank you for the inspiration Rosie.  You have to drop me a line and let me know what you finally settled on for 2011.   I'm crossing my fingers that you chose "Do Laundry."


Post Script: Do you have a "word of the year?" If so, what is it??

P.S.S.  If you purchase something in my Etsy shop today, you receive 10% off if you enter the coupon code: blogfan  at the time of checkout. 

Spring Quarter

Spring Quarter officially started last week at the local college.  I signed up to take a multimedia class that involves learning how to design web pages, write code, and a host of other stuff that sounds intimidating to a non-computer geek like me.   I took this class last year online and dropped it after three weeks because I realized I was in over my head and needed face to face instruction.


As of yesterday morning, I was not an official member of the class. I was on the "wait list" along with 10 other people. So, I got to class early hoping that I could talk the instructor into giving me an "add" code, before anyone else got to him. The instructor had not yet arrived, and the class was packed, which was not a good sign. 

I took a seat next to a group of menacing-looking students -- guys with pierced faces, tattoo sleeves and pants with underwear hanging out about 12 inches. I felt so out of place. I think someone even snickered when I sat down. I'm sure they were all thinking "What is this grandma doing in here?"


I don't know why tattoos and piercings scare me, but they do. And they shouldn't, because every time I get a seat next to someone with these adornments, and we start chatting, I learn that they are super nice, and super helpful. By the end of the semester, we are great friends who share candy, and notebook paper.  Sometimes we even take another class together, which was the case with Josh.   Proof that looks can definitely be deceiving.


Any-whoo, we students sat around and stared at each other until the instructor -- another young guy with tattoo sleeves, blew in the door all flustered and disheveled. He had been stuck on the freeway and made apologies to us, and a faculty member who showed up to tell us all about what we could and could not do on the Technology Center computers.   When at last the instructor had settled himself in a chair, he said "Hi I'm Caleb. Let's go around the room and make introductions. Tell me your name and why you want to take a multimedia course."


When it was my turn, I said "Hi my name is Crystal Beutler. I want to ......."


Caleb interrupted me. "Hold on right there" he said. "Did you say Beuhler, as in Ferris Beuhler?"


"Well . . . " I anwered, "Technically, it's Beutler, but it sounds like Beuhler as in Ferris Beuhler. And if you really want to know . . . my full name is Crystal FARISH Beutler."


The entire class erupted in laughter and cheered, which made me feel less like a grandma, and more like a student. 

***

You should know, I was the first person to get an "add" card, and I know it had something to do with my name  -- it sure comes in handy.


I foresee a good semester. Caleb is cool.


Post Script:  For those of you who are new to my blog, you might not be familiar with the story Where in the World is Ferris Beutler, which is necessary in order for this post to make sense.  And by the way, I am not a grandma and don't expect to be one any time soon.  My kids are 13 and 15.

Dog Quest

Several years ago, Matt and I were up late one night watching television.  Nothing exciting was on, so Matt started channel flipping.  I'm of the opinion that you should select a show and commit.  Not Matt, he pretty much flips all night long and it drives me crazy.  (I hope I'm not the only woman who suffers from this male habit.)


In the middle of the channel flipping, we came across a Food Network special about America's best hot dogs.  I yelled "Stop here!!!" (I love hot dogs and I'm always on a quest to find the perfect dog).  Luckily Matt was intrigued, so he set down the remote and we settled in and spent the next 60 minutes drooling.


Shortly after that program aired, we were talking about it with our friends Gary and Lanel.  They are hot dog lovers too.  So much so, that they actually had official Chicago Dogs shipped to their house -- the dogs, the buns and the relish!! (It pays to have connections with a wholesale food supplier.)  And, they were nice enough to invite us over to partake.  That was my very first Chicago Dog experience -- the best dog I've ever eaten.   

You know you are a lover of hot dogs if you think about a program you watched over 5 years ago . . . and would you believe, I still think about that specific Food Network episode.  I do.   I'm just dying to try a deep fried hot dog from a place in New Hampshire.  The name escapes me now, but you better believe that I will hunt that place down if I ever travel East and end up somewhere with a 50 mile radius.  And there's a place in Hawaii that is supposed to have the ultimate dog.  I'm going there too -- one of these days.


"Why is she droning on and on about hot dogs" you ask? Well, last Friday I found Pinks.  That's right Pinks -- the ultimate hot dog stand in Los Angeles.  And yes, it was featured in the aforementioned Food Network program.  Ironically, I've never been there which is funny when you consider that I lived in L.A. for three years and worked right down the street.  I have no idea how I missed it, but I did.


Last Friday, Claire and I were on our way to a television commercial audition, and as we were driving along Melrose Avenue, we saw it -- a hot dog stand with a giant sign that said "Pinks."


I yelled "Oh my gosh!!!  There it is -- the best hot dog stand in L.A.!!!!!  Claire we have to go there!!!"  She was on board after I told her about the Food Network show, and that celebrities frequent the joint.


So after the audition, we drove to the corner of La Brea and Melrose and parked our car in the tiny lot behind the world famous hot dog stand.  We went around to the front and got in line, which was a lot like waiting for a ride at Disneyland.  It was even roped off, and wound back and forth so that it didn't look like you had to wait that long.  We got behind a guy smoking a cigar, which I thought was completely rude as it instantly tainted my sense of smell.  How can you enjoy a dog when it tastes like cigar??? Fortunately for all, Cigar Man doused his stogie after several glares from people besides me. (I'm glad I wasn't the only one.)

As we waited in line, we chatted with our comrades and discovered that the majority of us had never been to Pinks.  Those who "had" helped those who "hadn't" navigate the menu, because the "had-nots" we were having a really hard time deciding what to order.  (So much to choose from and not enough room in our stomach to try it all.)   Claire and I settled for a bacon, chili, cheese dog, AND a Lord of the Rings Dog, which was a hot dog with barbecue sauce topped with onion rings.   I was hoping they had a defibrillator on the scene in case I had a heart attack from all the fat, or at the very least, offered a side of Pepto Bismal, but they didn't.  But, you could get a cup of nacho cheese if you asked nicely.





Once we paid (with cash because they don't accept anything else), we went to the patio out back to enjoy our feast.  It was delicious.  We ended up covered in chili and left smelling like onions, which isn't a good thing if you plan to go shopping for cloths later on.   We got some pretty awful looks from the store clerks in Forever 21.  I'm sure we reeked -- which made me feel a little sorry for Cigar Man and the way we treated him in line.

I have to say that Pinks makes a pretty decent dog.  But . . . not the best dog I've ever eaten.  My Chicago Dog experience still ranks number one.  Maybe Lord of the Rings would have tasted better if we were sitting next to Ellen DeGeneres or some other star . . . who knows.  But, I'm glad we made the time to stop. We had fun.


I can officially cross Pinks off my hot dog bucket list.  If you pay a visit to Pinks, you'll have to let me know what you think.

Post Script:  In case you are wondering, Claire is drinking root beer.  I repeat, root beer. :)

Heavenly Days and a Fond Farewell

Heavenly days . . . I had lunch at Panera today with my friends Chanin and Julie.  Did I mention that we finally got a Panera here in Temecula?  One day I was at Costco loading up my car and I glanced across the street.  Low and Behold, there was a Panera Bread Company sign on a building that had been vacant for years!!  That's proof that even small prayers are answered.  Which means that some day, we are getting a Cafe Rio too.


I came home from lunch and went upstairs to Eden's room where sits a turtle tank, complete with turtle.   We've had the turtle over 7 years and he's never been given a name.   We just refer to him as "the Turtle."  I know, we are lame, huh?   I think I'm naming him right now -- "Yertle" in honor of Dr. Seuss, whom I love.  But, it might be a little too late because in just a few minutes, I will be sending Yertle away to a new home.  It's time he lived with a "little fellow" who loves him.  (My little fellow is now a big fellow who ignores him.)

We bought Yertle on the streets of L.A. one day when we were shopping in the fabric district.  A woman had a whole setup on the corner -- about 20 little turtles the size of a quarter wandering around in colorful tanks.  Of course my kids were instantly drawn in, along with all of the other kids we were with that day.  They begged and begged "Please, please let us get a turtle.   He won't be hard to take care of!  Pleeeeeease???"  I can't tell you how many times I've heard that before.    I heard it when we saw sand crabs at the mall, baby frogs at Walmart, fish at the pet store, birds at the farmer's market . . . and now a turtle in L.A.    I caved of course, just like I did all those other times.  As much as I hate having pets, I am a sucker when it comes to my kids.  Plus, I had a turtle when I was little, and I remember how much I loved him . . . until he escaped about a week later and met his death in the basement.  I couldn't believe he made it down all those stairs!!  It must have taken him 20 years (in turtle time.)


Yertle is not like my turtle.  Yertle is a survivor.  For seven long years, he's lived in Eden's room.  That's a feat in itself.  He's been mauled and starved, and still he hangs on.   I thought he would stay the size of a quarter.  But he didn't, he grew and grew.  Now he is the size of my hand.  I think he'd get even bigger if he had a bigger place to live.  He's outgrown his tank.  And the tank has outgrown Eden's room.  So, it's time for Yertle to find a new home.  I found one last night on Facebook -- you've got to love the friend network.  I know I do.


Farewell Yertle.  May you have many more fine years at the home of Gid and Audrey.  You've been a good pet.  You will not be missed.

Post Script:  I asked Gid what he was going to name his new pet.  He thought about it for a minute and said "Turtle."  I guess I didn't need to bother with Yertle.  Turtle will do just fine.

Around Here.

Things are hopping around here today.  My closet purging continues and there is a pile of garbage outside by back door that is turning into a mountain.  Do you think I waited a little to long between purges?  I do.  

I took Eden to the orthodontist to see about braces -- but I'm the one who had to brace myself -- the cost!!!!!!  It's worth it in the end.  He will have a beautiful smile to go with his contagious laugh.

I'm making something delicious for dinner in the crock pot.   Don't you love one pot meals???? 

Tonight, I'm going to bed early so I can continue reading a great book!  I'm only into it about 100 pages, and I'm already enthralled.  If you are reader, you have to get this.   It's a good one! (Book club, you are missing out!!!!)

And best of all, it's a warm, sunny day outside, which means I will get to take a walk wearing shorts.  I think I might even get tan!  You've got to love that in January!


Post Script:   Can you tell I'm trying to focus on being grateful?  It helps me to do that when I'm in a funk.  Yup.  I'm suffering from Holiday Hangover.

I Have a Dream

It's 11:00 and my daughter is still sleeping.   Can you believe it!  But, I'm not going to disturb her because on regular school days, she get's up at 4:30 a.m. to study the scriptures at Seminary.  Plus, last night she stayed up late to go marauding with Eden and Haley.

Claire deserves to sleep in once in a while -- even if Matt thinks it's crazy.   (You may recall, he's an Early Bird, and he just doesn't get why anyone would want to sleep in when they could be out riding bikes or getting something accomplished at the crack of dawn.)

Have a great Martin Luther King Day.  I'll be purging closets (something I hate) and going to the movies to see The Green Hornet (my reward).

I hope you will take the time to listen to Dr. King's speech "I Have a Dream" with your family today.   I was not very old when this took place, but I can still remember sitting in my living room watching this speech on our black and white television.  I want my children to see it -- the hundreds of people marching through D.C. to fight for rights.   It was powerful then, and it's powerful now.




Post Script: I am so dreading the pay back that's coming for the midnight marauders. They hit the same house twice in two days. And the T.P. damage was bad. Really bad.

Post Post Script:   Two great books about Civil Rights -- Four Spirits, and The Help.

The Happiest Place On Earth

Is it just me, or is that a pretty bold claim -- to be the "Happiest Place on Earth?"   Because really, have you ever been to Disneyland during the summer?  Is is really the happiest place when you are pushing a stroller through a crowd so thick it takes 30 minutes to get from the Pirate's of Caribbean to the Haunted House?  And standing in line for 2 hours for a 5 minute ride --- is that fun????  I say "Nay."


But, some days, like today, Disneyland is a happy place.   I actually convinced Claire to break free from her teenager Rat King and come with me -- a miracle to be sure.   What made it even better were blue skies, warm temperatures and no crowds.  No crowds!!!  (That hasn't happened to me since 1988 when I went with Mark Iba in the pouring rain.) Claire and I actually took our time and strolled around.  Strolled!!!!  

It was so nice to remember all the things I love about Disneyland, besides riding on rides . . .


The smell of Churros wafting through air. 

The colors.

The boat captain's comedy routine on the Jungle Ride -- if you get a good captain.

The landscaping.

Dreaming of living in a house like the ones in New Orleans square.

Watching the 1960 surfing movie while eating pineapple whips at the Tiki Room entrance.

Knowing how to work the Fast Pass system to your best advantage.

The step-by-step hand washing instructions in all the rest rooms. 

And, best of all, having a whole day to laugh with my daughter.

Disneyland, sometimes you really are, the happiest place on Earth.

Post Script:  We are trying to plan a trip to France this summer.  When I asked my kids what they wanted to do if we traveled there, they both said "Euro Disney!!"  Are they kidding me?????  That's the last thing I want to do in France.  We have a Disneyland in our own back yard for heaven's sake!!

In Mourning

I have sad, sad news.   So sad, in fact, that it has taken me a month to muster up the strength to write about it.


My book club disbanded.


Yes, you read that right. Disbanded.  After ten lovely years, it was over, just like that. It happened like this:


We were sitting at a restaurant out in the vineyards, placing orders for breakfast when Erin yelled:

"CHEF SPECIAL'S ALL AROUND!!! . . . Should we order for Karen??  Is she coming?" 

Cindy said "Not sure if she's coming.  She's out."


"Out???" The group exclaimed in unison.


"Yep, out. She just can't do it with her new schedule at work." Cindy replied. Then she added "And I'm out too because my work schedule is the same day as book club I just don't have time to read."


Silence ensued and we all stared at each other.

I think we all realized at once that we were entering a new phase of life -- the most expensive phase of life. Kids growing up, leaving home, going on missions, going to college, and getting married.  And what that meant for most of the group was re-entering the work force -- to help pay for all those expenses. When you've been a stay at home mom for years and years, going back to work is the last thing that enters your mind. But it comes. And it comes faster than you think.  So a word of warning to you fellow SHAMs out there . . .  be prepared, and learn a skill or two, you may need them some day.


Minutes later, our waiter brought out The Chef's Special.  It looked just like cat food which was not a good sign.   We all pushed it around with our forks.  Just then, Karen showed up and confirmed the rumor which was true.  She was "out."  

Bobette said "Ok, let's have our annual Christmas book club and then figure out where we go from here."  

Then we all went back to the Special, which not only looked like cat food, it tasted just like cat food too.  I lost all faith in waiter recommendations.

***

Turns out we didn't have our annual Christmas book club. Within the next few days emails started traveling back and forth:


"I'm out. I just have way too much on my plate."


"I'm out, I'm going back to school."


"I'm out, I got a new job and my schedule changes every week."


So . . . it ended.  Book club officially disbanded.  And we didn't even get to exchange our Christmas gifts.

***

I will miss you friends. I will miss reading with you, laughing with you, and eating with you.


But, I'm hoping that I can convince you to come to a "Once or Twice a Year Book Club" so that we can read the latest book by Kate Morton, and maybe  Louisa May Alcott, both of which I hear are great reads. Mull it over and get back to me, will you?  

Post Script: It's way more fun reading if you have someone to talk about the book with, wouldn't you agree??

Qvestion

Is it ok if your favorite shoes ever are Converse All Stars . . . and you are over 50?  Just wonderin'.  Cuz, I love wearing them and I worry about looking like a P.E. coach (which is not the look I'm going for), or a 50 year old who can't get out of the past -- if you know what I mean.  I look at older women who dress like they are trying to be 16 and think "Please don't let that happen to me." 

Is it?  Is wearing Converse when you are over 50 "reaching?"  Nieces, friends . . . come forward and tell me what you honestly think.  I can't count on Claire because she thinks everything I wear is dumb.

True Confessions - No. 1

Yesterday as I was fighting my way through Crazy Town, I noticed several Christmas trees sitting outside for the garbage collectors.   The dead trees made me break out into a cold sweat.  Guilt sweat.   But not for the reason you think.  I took my tree down before I left for Big Bear.   I felt guilt sweat for something that happened over 25 years ago.  I guess it's time to confess.


It was a gloomy December day in 1983. A fog inversion had just settled over the Salt Lake Valley. I was living in a duplex with friends along the Foothills of the Wasatch Mountains.  Three out of four of us had recently been laid off our jobs. And oddly enough, that same three (which included me) had no means of transportation, because our cars had broken down as well.  Hard times had descended on the house.


There we were, sitting in the living room mid-afternoon, still in our pajamas, with nothing to do. I looked out the window at all the gray -- gray skies, gray snow, gray garbage cans, and dead Christmas trees lying lifeless on the curb waiting to be moved to their final resting place -- the dump. It was a depressing scene. I remember thinking "Boy, this is going to be one looooong winter."


As we sat looking out at all the gloom, we bounced around some ideas -- things we could do to make life a little more fun.  Someone came up with a doozer "Hey wouldn't it be funny to get all the dead Christmas trees and make a forest in the basement?  We could have a party!" Somehow that got us all laughing -- the thought of a forest next to the washer and dryer.  So, we hatched a plan, and that night, began execution.


Still dressed in pajamas, under the light of the moon and below zero temperatures, we wandered up and down our street, collecting dead trees.  We we dragged about 10 of them back to our house and hid them in our garage.



The following morning, our next-door-neighbors were out front  inspecting the curb.  They couldn't figure out why their dead tree was missing, but not their garbage.  I'm sure the rest of our neighbors wondered what happened as well.  Little did they know their cast-off greenery had been artfully arranged into a   laundry room woodland.

That same day, we called our boyfriends and said "Hey, we have a surprise for you! Dress warm and come over around 7:00." So they did.  They arrived in parkas, mittens, and hats, and we lead them right down into the basement where we had the best picnic ever. The scent of pine mingled with dryer sheets as we ate our sandwiches and laughed. Then we took the party upstairs and played games.

All I remember about that now, was laughing -- really, really hard.  It was the best time.  In the middle of all that gloomy gray, we had found a silver lining.

And now for the confession:


A few days later, the lone roommate who still had a job (and a car), was a little annoyed by festivities created by the unemployed -- the winter wonderland was still in the basement.  So, we dragged the trees back into the garage, and there they sat for months and months.  We didn't get around to doing a thing about them until our landlady (who just happen to live next door) showed up one day and said "I don't know why you have Christmas trees in the  garage, but they better be gone by tomorrow.  It's a huge fire hazard."  


So, on a warm night in April, as flowers were poking their heads out of the ground, we dragged what remained of the 10 trees next door -- to a big Church parking lot, and left them beside a locked dumpster. Then we got rid of the evidence -- a trail of dead needles that lead to our house.


The next day was Sunday.  I went outside to get in my car and saw the typical scene -- cars pulling into the church parking lot for Sunday worship services.   But, on this particular day, there was a man, dressed in his Sunday best, standing with his hands on his hips staring at the pile of trees.  He had a look on his face that was priceless.  You could tell he was just baffled at sight of Christmas trees in Springtime.


I went back into the house and told everyone to look out the window.   The man was still standing there, with is hands on his hips.  You better believe that my roommates and I thought that was the funniest thing ever.  We laughed ourselves sick.  We spent the morning watching people wander over to look at the trees.   And every person who came had the same look on their face -- "How in the world did these get here???"


Until today, no one ever knew that it was the work of 3 scoundrels, too lazy to drag trees to the curb, in the middle of a gray winter.

Post Script:  The note on the back of a photo indicates why we were laughing so hard during Trivial Pursuit -- we were confessing our most embarrassing moments on a date.

Rainy Days and Mondays . . .

Are you looking at this and wondering why I posted a picture of my street? It looks just like any other street in California on a sunny Monday morning, right?


Well, 15 minutes ago, it didn't look like this at all. It looked like crazy town. That's right, crazy town. It looks like crazy town every Monday morning.


Someone on the Temecula School Board thought it would be a great idea to make Monday "Late Start" day at all the middle schools, and high schools. Which means that every Monday, all the schools in Temecula start an hour later than usual, and they all start around the same time. I repeat, they all start around the same time.  If you are a mother, that statement probably made the hair on your arms stand on end.

Can you imagine navigating a car through all that chaos trying to get kids to 3 different schools on time??  And . . . can you imagine what that's like living on a street next to the elementary school and high school??? That right . . .  you get Crazy Town.


Oh that you could see my street at 8:30 a.m. on Monday morning.  There are smart neighbors who walk kids to school -- all congregating out in front of my house, teenage drivers pretending they are on a virtual race track, mothers driving like maniacs to meet the time deadlines, garbage trucks, garbage cans, and me . . . . getting really worked up as I try to back out of my driveway. I can't even take a photo of the scene because I don't want to incriminate myself just in case I get into an accident.


This morning, I made the mistake of leaving 3 minutes past schedule. I got behind the garbage truck. That, my friends, is total torture when you are frantically trying to pick up the car pool. Start. Stop. Start. Stop. It took over 20 minutes just to make it down the end of the street.


I think this may have something to do with how I got addicted to Diet Coke -- which I  vowed to give up in 2011. I might have to modify that to exclude Mondays. I need an extra large big gulp in a big way.


Post Script:  In case you didn't grow up in the 70's, the title of this post is the name of a song by The Carpenters.  "Rainy days and Mondays alwaaaaays get me dooooown." Loved that alto voice of Karen, did you?

Fire in the Hull

This time it was not a drill.   There was fire, and smoke, and alarms, and sirens.  And a fire extinguisher.


It started out just like any other Saturday night. Kids making plans. A party starting in the family room. Me, trying to stay out of the way. Matt on his way to India. Elfie, barking every time the doorbell rang.


I had a triple batch of caramel corn in the oven set at 200 degrees as I hid upstairs watching Bones, Season 4 episodes. I came downstairs to give it a check just as the fire alarms went off. I opened the oven door, and there it was . . . three batches of carmel corn burned to a black crisp.  I had a cow (not literally, but you know what I mean.)  Why in the world does this keep happening to me!!!!!  Really, I am a pretty good cook.  I just can't figure it out.

As I muttered to myself, Claire said "We can't get the television to work so I'm moving the party upstairs."  The crowd abandoned me as I began pulling trays out of the oven and marching them outside to the big black trash can.


When I came back inside, smoke was billowing out of the oven. It was on fire!


Of course, when you really have a fire in the kitchen, the trusty fire extinguisher that you purchased 10 years ago no longer works.  I went into Home Economics 101 mode and threw baking soda on the flames.  It did nothing. So I ran next door to see if my neighbors were a little more diligent than me. They were on a date, and their kids wouldn't answer the door.  I'm guessing they don't have a working fire extinguisher either.


So . . . I ran across the street and rang the doorbell of Nick and Marie -- the neighbors I turn to in times of crisis. Just as Nick answered the door, I heard firetrucks making their way through the neighborhood. I immediately thought to myself "Man, I hope the kids didn't call 911."


Nick ran out the door with his extinguisher, across the street, and straight into my kitchen.  He put out the fire, just like a professional, while the party continued on upstairs without missing one beat. My kids didn't even notice the smoke. Can you believe it!   

And in case you are wondering, the fire trucks were on their way to another house a few blocks away. I bet they had a 10 year old fire extinguisher that didn't work either.

I'm buying Nick cookies to say thank you.  It looks like I'll be without an oven for awhile.

Resolutions?

It's a brand new, unused year!!  What are you going to do with yours?  Are you like me and dispense with making a "New Year's Resolutions" list?  I don't know what it is about doing that, but it sends me into instant guilt mode.   I end up getting a ton of stuff done over the year, but I end up avoiding the list.   Is it an ADHD thing?  I don't know.


I will say that I am a firm believer in moving forward, because when I stand still, I stop progressing and I become unhappy. So even though I won't be making an official list, I'm thinking a lot about what I want to do this year.

I'm thinking about . . .

• Being a little kinder to myself.
• Growing my hair out.
• Studying the Constitution of the United States.
• Taking a web design class at the local university.
• Starting a sewing group for people who want to sew. (Still looking for a location that will house 23 women.)
• Shopping at a flea market in France.
• Taking a cooking class in France.
• Taking a hike up to Mary's Lake with Julie and Shelly.
• Re-doing my bedroom.
• Hosting a back yard concert featuring Sarah Sample.
• Going to a play with my kids.
• Planting fruit trees.
• Canning pickles with Maria.
• Going to a spa with Pam.
• Celebrating Matt's 50th birthday in a big way.
• Visiting C Jane and Emily C.
• Taking a family photograph with Blue Lily in the Orange Groves near our house.
• Reading the Book of Mormon with my family.
• Playing golf with Anne, and Shauna.
• Spending time in the Salt Lake Genealogy library with Norm and his wife.
• Meeting up with Meg D if she visits So. Cal. this year.
• Eating lunch on the pier with Brooke.
• Publishing last year's blog entries into a book for each of my kids.
• Hitting Smeeks with Hauley.
• Eating vegetables from Grant and Nina's garden.

• Convincing my book club that we don't have to disband just because everyone is too busy to read books.
• Getting Christine to teach me how to use my Cricut like a pro.
• Convincing my kids that it's really fun to hang out and play games instead of watching television.
• Meeting up with friends at Spark (and that includes you Eunice, Jenni, Meg, and anyone else who wants to join me.)
• Hanging out more with my talented scrapbook friends.
• Visiting the temple once a month.
• Helping Eden get all his merit badges so he can start on his Eagle project.
• Sewing pajamas for the Young Women girls camp.
• Reading all the Penguin Classic books I purchased because I fell in love with the covers.
• Taking a silver-casting class.
• Welcoming new babies in the Beutler clan.
• Being patient when I'm in the passenger seat with Claire.
• Convincing Bob Nielsen before he goes on his mission that he needs to open a Cafe Rio in Temecula. (I'm still trying to figure out how Redlands got one before we did.)
• Being patient with teens who don't want to clean up after themselves.
• Getting the Lower Lights to come to Temecula for a concert.
• Dinner with Cami, Tracy and Marilyn. 
• Dropping Eden and Claire off at Universal so I can visit Lyndsay.
• Walking the loop once a week with Elfie (That my friends, is a big one for me.)

Wish me luck. I'm committing to nothing. I'm just moving forward. Maybe my word of the year should be "Press On." Still pondering that one.

2010 in Review

You know I can't summarize 365 days worth of happenings. So I'll do it with a picture instead -- little snippets of the good times.

I think I'm going to blow this up poster size and hang it in my house.

The Wizard and I

I told you hot air balloons land in our neighborhood!  You didn't believe me, huh!  When it happens it's quite thrilling.

Once a balloon landed in my yard -- well, almost in my back yard. My massive slope adjoins an elementary school playground -- the perfect spot for landing.  It feels like they are one and the same because I can hear laughter and teachers on a megaphone during recess as though they are right outside my back door.
That day, the balloon was aiming for the field, and it was close enough that it looked like it was going to crash into my house -- that rainbow of balloon fabric engulfing my view of the sky.  I'll never forget it.


This morning, for your viewing pleasure, I chased the balloon because I knew where it would rest -- a park. . . next to another elementary school.


When I pulled over to snap a picture the balloon was right overhead and I could hear the the pilot releasing hot hair from the giant bubble as it made it's descent back to Earth. I love that sound.

The pilot looked down and me and yelled "Good morning to you!"

I yelled back "Good morning to you Mr. Wizard! You are not in Kansas anymore!!"

He laughed. And so did his wife and daughter.

I really need to start taking my camera with me in the morning.  These shots would have been so beautiful -- the colorful balloon against the morning sky.   Objects were much closer than they appear.  You just can't capture the moment with a phone camera, but it will do in a pinch.

Scum and I are Old Friends

Have you ever played Scum?  It's one of my favorite card games.   When I was a kid, Scum was part of many a weekend.  Scum and I are old friends.   

Oddly enough, I haven't played it for over 17 years.  I know precisely when I played it last because I laughed so hard I wet my pants.  (Maybe that's why I gave it up for a while.)


Seventeen years ago, a group of newly married friends, of which Matt and I were a part, rented a cabin over Memorial day.   We spent the weekend playing games and hunting for treasure at the annual Idlywild swap meet.  We ended up playing Scum for hours on end with about 14 people. Our friend Ryan seemed to end up with the title of Scum more often than the rest of us, which was funny, because he so wanted to rise to the top and be the Dal Hamine -- which is the highest position in the game of Scum. (We use the title Dal Hamine in lieu of President because it sounds much more international.  Who wants to be president when you could be a Dal Hamine?)

I have such fond memories of that weekend.  I miss all those friends who, shortly after the trip, all went their separate ways -- off to med school, or bought houses, and had kids.  Where are all of you?????  Do you still play Scum??


Tonight, as part of our New Year's festivities, I got to play Scum again, and may I say that it was just as much fun as it was 17 years ago. Only this time, there was a twist in the game -- the person who ended up as the Scum at the end of each round, and to don a hat and dance.

Embarrassing you ask? For me, that would be a Y.E.S. -- all in capital letters. You really don't want to see me dance. It has undertones of the Seinfeld episode where Elaine dances at the company Christmas party.


Luckily, I was spared showing my parlor tricks tonight.  This poor woman had the honor . . . several times.  And fortunately for all of us, she can dance.  I so wouldn't want to follow her rendition of Thriller.

I blurred her face anyway, because she might not want the world to know that she was the Scum three times before the clock struck 12:00 and the real dancing began.

Happy New Year.  May 2011 bring you happiness and many adventures . . . all of them good.

Post Script:  Wondering why there are no men sitting at the card table?  The thought of dancing if they became the Scum drove them off.  They all huddled around the television and watched wrestling.  Chickens.