I know what the answer is! I know what the answer is! The rules regarding when to use "that" and "which" are so simple and I never would have guessed it. I feel my brain expanding as we speak. It feels goooood. I want to go back to school. I wish I were a teacher.

Oh! Another one. Is it "I wish I were.... or I wish I was....?" I didn't learn this rule completely until I was in a Spanish class in college. Surprisingly, I learned many grammar rules for the first time as I learned Spanish.

This reminds me. I WANT TO GO TO FRANCE RIGHT NOW. Seriously, I want to be in France speaking French. (Talking about learning Spanish reminded me that I had more fun learning French, which reminded me that I love France and want to go there RIGHT NOW.)

In Paris, I want to be given overpriced food from rude waiters who look down on me for being American. I want to kiss on the Seine river like everyone does. Seriously, I have never seen so much kissing. I need to stop in some museums and maybe Notre Dame. I then want to drive to a little village and rent a cottage for 1 week where I just eat cheese and cook and practice my language on the locals. No running around trying to see everything--just be french for the week.

Well, ahum. I have to go take carpool and eat some cold cereal. I'm back. e

Stuff I would like to know..

There is a word which I saw twice today. In fact, the last two books I have read have used this word several times. I have seen it before and just skipped over it, because I didn't know what it meant. I think it has something to do with ancient books? It bothered me that such a short word was unfamiliar to me. Who else does not know what the word is?

The word...... TOME.

This leads me to a segment that I like to call....

GRAMMAR NAZI!!!!

How do you know when to use the word "which" and when to use "that"? Look at the first sentence of this post. Should I have said "that" instead?

"There is a word which.... or There is a word that..."

I purposely used the word which, because I felt it was incorrect and it felt weird to use it. I want to see who agrees with me. I have a hunch what the correct answer is, but I won't look it up yet.

I'm going to give you something to do, if you'd like. Comment the answer "that" or "which" you believe is correct and you can support it with factual back up if you'd like. It will be a fun exchange. Hey! Yes it will. e

p.s. oh, and get back to me what TOME means. I purposely won't look that up either. Why does this make me so happy?

Jan. 6 -day at the office

Sydney and Kate are home sick today (home sick, not homesick). Well, Kate's home every day, but..

I hate that babies can't tell you what is wrong with them!

I hear her crying so sadly in her crib when I put her down. It is raspy and still such a sweet cry. I can't stand it. She breaks my heart when she cries. I have pretty much handed her my heart and said, "Here. Do what you will with this." I saw a picture of her when she was 3 weeks old. I was at my mom's house while my family was in Lake Powell. I am holding her and she looks like a little bird with a skinny arm and little puffy eyes. It broke my heart as well, because I will never have a newborn again. She's already a huge almost 6-month

old. Stop this train!

Sydney, luckily, can tell me that her throat really hurts and is coughing. She is handling it all right. Oh well, I will have to get on slippers and go finish Julie and Julia while I sort my pictures into piles and eat clementines. I have decided after looking at these pictures I am sorting, that if you ask older parents, they will probably tell you that the happiest time in their family's life was when their kids were 10 and under? Maybe 12 and under? You are seeing things for the first time, going places for the first time. No one is old enough to stay home. No one would even WANT to stay home. They all want to be with you all of the time. The things they like and want are CHEAP. You have total control.

Having said that, I'm really really enjoying this stage as well. I think there is just more mental thought that goes into this stage. You realize your kids are almost gone and have they learned everything? Are they prepared? You're dealing with hormones and their choices have bigger consequences. (For instance, if you lie down on a car roof with a big belt buckle and then move around, it will scratch the paint, dent the hood and you will have to pay money to fix it, even if the owner is your friend....or....if you look down when you are driving, even for a second, you could crash into the curb really hard, pop two tires, and have to replace all four....or....if you don't have a teacher sign a homework packet that is due, even if you have a really cute smile, they don't care and you won't get credit.) These crazy teenagers. Love them!

"Avocado" and Lala--home from Mexico

I Just Found This Picture from my freshman Year at college

Erin 18, Misty 16, Kelly 14 at Heritage Halls, BYU. Scary permed hair.

Troubling Feedback from Mom

So, my mom has commented to me that she doesn't get Billy Collins and his poetry, especially the poem I last posted called "The Introduction." For all of those who feel the same, I won't try to explain why I thought it was so clever. Why, when I picked it out of all of those I could have picked, I chose one that showed his humor. Why on earth would his reader need to know all of the osbcure facts he lists (the Russian "five", Annie Oakley's real name) if we are just to read a poem on picking wild strawberries?

I promised my mom that I would print one of my favorites called "The Lanyard," which is far more normal. This poem is about the debt we owe to our moms --one we can never repay. I feel this way too mom. Nothing I could give you can thank you for raising me under very tough circumstances with almost no outside support. When I think of how much I rely on a husband, close friends, and especially my family, I am amazed that you were able to keep your sanity all of those years by yourself with four little kids. You were pretty isolated here in Utah. You joined the church (for which I am so grateful) and that, sadly, put a huge barrier between your family and you. You lost help from dad's parents really, when you lost him. Somehow, you did it. When I think back on the childhood I probably COULD have had, especially one without the church, I am eternally grateful for you.

To all moms:


"The Lanyard"



The other day as I was ricocheting slowly

off the pale blue walls of this room,

bouncing from typewriter to piano,

from bookshelf to an envelope lying on the floor,

I found myself in the L section of the dictionary

where my eyes fell upon the word lanyard.



No cookie nibbled by a French novelist

could send one more suddenly into the past --

a past where I sat at a workbench at a camp

by a deep Adirondack lake

learning how to braid thin plastic strips

into a lanyard, a gift for my mother.



I had never seen anyone use a lanyard

or wear one, if that’s what you did with them,

but that did not keep me from crossing

strand over strand again and again

until I had made a boxy

red and white lanyard for my mother.



She gave me life and milk from her breasts,

and I gave her a lanyard.

She nursed me in many a sickroom,

lifted teaspoons of medicine to my lips,

set cold face-cloths on my forehead,

and then led me out into the airy light



and taught me to walk and swim,

and I, in turn, presented her with a lanyard.

Here are thousands of meals, she said,

and here is clothing and a good education.

And here is your lanyard, I replied,

which I made with a little help from a counselor.



Here is a breathing body and a beating heart,

strong legs, bones and teeth,

and two clear eyes to read the world, she whispered,

and here, I said, is the lanyard I made at camp.

And here, I wish to say to her now,

is a smaller gift--not the archaic truth



that you can never repay your mother,

but the rueful admission that when she took

the two-tone lanyard from my hands,

I was as sure as a boy could be

that this useless, worthless thing I wove

out of boredom would be enough to make us even.

My Bad

New Year's Eve.

It was New Years Eve. We took the big family picture in the morning. Got some great shots. I wish I had them to post, but not yet. We made and ate food, guys went golfing, girls to a movie. It was 10 p.m. and everyone was gathering from our two houses to the one, the one I was in. All kids under 4 were asleep in their rooms and those in the main area were ready for games, etc. to begin.

I had just returned from the movies (at a theater straight out of the 1950s. Staff in suits, an 80-year-old money taker/ticket giver. My ticket looked like the kind you get at carnivals to spend at the fishing pond. The theater was full of smoke due to burnt popcorn? Oh, and there was a grand piano in the lobby.)

So, 10 p.m... I had just returned and went in my cozy master bedroom to feed my baby. Ahhh. Love getting to quietly relax for about 1/2 hour and just hold my baby. I settled down and saw the fireplace which I had yet to use. Ha, I thought, I'm just going to turn that puppy on. The switch wouldn't work. I gave up and walked over to the chair to feed Kate. Right by the door I notice a keypad all lit up. Oh! Maybe each of those numbers turns on something in my room. Seriously, there were so many dang lights in that place and shower nozzles and on and on that I could never figure it out. So, I look at the keypad and by number 7 is a picture of a fire flame. Oh! THIS is where I turn it on. Weird. It says I have to push the number 7 and some other button at the same time. I do it and look over at the fireplace and nothing happens. I try it ONE MORE TIME.

The following clip pretty much shows what happened.

It was SO LOUD--right where the little ones had just fallen asleep. Everyone was running around freaking out. I took a big breath, walked out to the living room and just said, " My bad! It was me! No worries- no fire! It was me. Sorry! Sooo sorry!" Then I had to explain that I thought that the picture of a fire meant the fireplace and not a fire alarm. We had no code to punch in and stop the chaos. We had to call the owner who had never lived in the home and had no idea what the code was either. The fire department would have to come over. Young moms looked at me as if to say, "If you mess up the rest of my New Years Eve...." All of Brett's brothers were madly punching in random numbers and looking at me in between with, "Really? You can't tell that's an alarm system?"

After about 10 minutes, I think Dave finally punched in 4545. Voila. It was over. Miraculously, 95% of children who were asleep stayed asleep. I couldn't believe it. The brothers, however, will never let me live that down. I got teased mercilessly the rest of the night, especially by his sassiest youngest brother. You know who you are. They tease me anyway about lots of things and now this. Great. It's not over.

I'm sitting on the floor in the back corner of the kitchen where I decided I would be in time out. Kate came with me, because she supports me like that.