Inspired by Alanis Morissette's "Unsent"

Disclaimer: there are lots of boys here. By no means did all or even most of them return my affections, but they all shaped me and my idea of men. Being that the first person who ever hurt me was a male, they are all important. I was a damaged, scared girl, and all I ever wanted was for someone to love me as much as I loved them.

Dear Alex:
I thought I loved you in 4th and 5th grade. I don't remember exactly why, though I remember being pretty obnoxious and you always dealing with me with patience. I still love a man in glasses, though.

Dear Terrence:
I had never before known a boy who was so sexy to me. I loved your drawl, your taste in music, your truck. I was very disappointed when you got back with your ex, but I'm sure that whatever transpired between us would have lead to no good.

Dear Matthew:
I liked you a lot. I don't know if it was the fact we never could spend any quality time together or if our personalities didn't mesh, but it never got easier trying to get to know you.

Dear Saul:
You were so so handsome. You were my first "official" boyfriend, and it was a lot of fun spending time with you. Being who I was, and having the childhood I did, the fact that I felt safe with you was invaluable to me. I am thankful that you were my introduction to the dating world. You set the bar high, and always treated me with respect and kindness, even when I wasn't returning the favor. I think something really incredible could have happened between us if not for both our low self-esteems. I don't know what happened to convince you you were less than you were, but you didn't give yourself enough credit. I hope you do now.

Dear Valente:
I wish I'd had the courage back then that I do now. I would have told you to jump off a cliff the first time you started looking at me that way. It's pretty poor form to date a girl, seduce her, dump her, and then pursue her best friend. I wish I'd told you to go where you belong. Another tip: telling a girl she'd be hotter with a boob job isn't flattering. Also, kissing a girl who's giving you no indication she wants to be kissed, with morning breath even, is a no go. I hope you've grown up.

Dear Timothy:
I'm not sure where my infatuation came from. Familiarity? The fact you were kind to me when so few were? You were always kind. I spent many years pining for you, wishing you'd feel for me the way I felt for you. You must have known that I had a crush on you. I was so aggressive in trying to get you to pay attention to me. Ironic how I wanted nothing more than for you to see me as more than your best friend's little sister, when I acted exactly like an annoying little sister. Even when I wrote you that letter, leaving it in your suit jacket, detailing exactly how crazy I was about you. A lesser boy would have mocked me. A lesser boy would have told his friends and used the opportunity to embarrass me, feeling embarrassed himself at such an intense letter. I only recently realized how much it means that you never did. Your only words on the subject were ever, "I'm sorry." I don't know if you know how much power you had over me. You could have destroyed me. But you only ever treated me with kindness. The years after, when we became actual friends, were full of adolescent craziness, and it was wonderful having you to talk to. I never stopped loving you, but I felt like the weight of needing you to know was gone. When you left on your mission, I loved you. Had you asked me to wait for you, I would have. I don't know if you wanted me to, but if you did, you were weren't selfish enough to ask me to. I would never have met Aaron. I would never have loved Aaron. I don't know what would have happened after your mission, but I hope that, if you ever did have feelings for me, that I didn't hurt them. I'd never do so intentionally.

Dear Clayton:
I thought what I felt for you was as good as it got. I loved your eyes and your mother. I remember feeling like your family was too familiar to me for our relationship to be temporary. It all felt like deja vu. I tried so hard to get you to adore me like you had at the beginning. I sometimes wonder; if you'd shown even a little bit of interest in my faith, would we have married? I don't know. I wonder if we'd have been happy together. Something tells me very much no. I am thankful I chose my faith. I say that with no malice or hard feelings. I'm 100% confident that a lasting relationship between us would have been a mistake and I am thankful that we didn't take the opportunity to hurt each other that way.

Dear Aaron:
I still can't believe this is our life. I will always be thankful that we met that day and that I demanded you take me out without inhibitions. I am sure that we met in the life before this and that we will be together in the life after. It has not always been easy, and it will get hard again, I'm sure. But every day, I go to sleep with a heart full of gratitude that you are mine and I am yours. In retrospect, marrying a person you've only known ten months when you still live in your mom's house is not the smartest move ever, but it has worked out. Nobody has ever made me feel the way you do; the good, the bad, and the ugly. I look forward to honoring the covenants we made that August day for the rest of my life. I have made you and the children we made together the center of my world, and I intend to keep it that way. I don't care that the world tells me that my job is menial, that I am foolish and naive to think that we will always be together. The world doesn't know you, and it doesn't know me. I know you. I know the sounds you make as you sleep. I know the way you smell. The curve of your lips, the sound of your voice when you say my name. I know that when I need a swift kick, you will be there to give it to me, and that you will follow up with lots of affection. I know the way it feels when you are smiling at my back, thinking that I am beautiful, and I know how it feels when you are burning angry lasers in my back. I know that at the end of the day, I can rely on you to be there, even when you are not here. I know that no matter how far apart we are, and no matter how angry we may be at each other, when you close your eyes at night and when you open them in the morning, you love me. And I love you, Aaron. Every day, every moment, I love you. Now, and forever ever.

Striped fingerless gloves w/ button flap

 

 I think I kinda wrote a pattern. I've done it once or twice, but never shared it. So here goes.

Materials:

• DK weight wool (what's the point of knitting a warm-weather garment if it's not going to keep you warm?) in two colors. I used Patons Classic Wool Superwash DK in black and mallard teal. Black is my main color, and teal is my contrast. I used less than half a ball of the blue and about 2/3 of a ball of the black. I'm betting you could just use one ball of one color if you liked.
• size 4US knitting needles; either double points, two circulars or a long circular for Magic Loop, whatever your preference is.
• 2 stitch markers
• darning needle
• two 1/2-inch buttons (optional--do yourself a favor, and if you buy superwash yarn, make sure your buttons are machine washable too. I know this from experience.)
• waste yarn or stitch holders for thumbs

Instructions:

1. Using A, or MC, or black (whichever you want to call it,) cast on 36 stitches using the long tail cast on. Being careful not to twist, join in the round and knit 2x2 rib for 15 rounds. (That's k2,p2.) 
2. Knit one row plain. From here on out, you will be alternating the teal and black, knitting two stripes of each color, until the end ribbing. 
3. Switching every other row between teal and black, knit 7 stripes. Remember to twist at each round, and pull the yarn fairly tightly. The "seam" is going to visible, but you want it to be less noticeable. This piece isn't meant to stretch a lot lengthwise, so pulling too tightly isn't too much of an issue as long as you don't get crazy. Your last stripe should be teal.
4. Knit one row in black.
   
   Important: the gloves are knit indentically up until the thumb gusset. Then, the left and right thumbs are worked differently, so as to place the "seam" under the thumb/on the palm side so it's not as visible.  
   Right:
   
   1. K1, pm, kfb, k1, kfb, pm, k to end of round.
   2. Knit two rows plain, remembering to alternate colors every two rows.
   3. Repeat the last 3 rows until you have 13 sts between your markers. 
   4. Knit one more row plain. 
   5. K1, rm, slip 13 sts to waste yarn. Cast on 3 stitches using backward loop, rm, and knit to the end of the round. (36 sts.)
   Left:
   
   1. Knit to the last 4 sts, pm, kfb, k1, kfb, pm, k1.
   2. Knit two rows plain, remembering your stripes.
   3. Repeat the last 3 rows until you have 13 sts between your markers. 
   4. Knit one more plain row. 
   5. K to marker, rm, slip 13 sts to waste yarn. Cast on 3 stitches using backward loop, rm, k1. (36 sts.)
      
   The gloves are knit the same again from this point on.
   
   
   1. Knit 5 more stripes, ending with teal. 
   2. Knit one plain row in black.
   3. Knit 5 rows 2x2 ribbing.
   4. *K2, P2, K2, P2tog,* repeat between *, end with k2, p2.
   5. *K2, P2, K2, P1,* repeat between * end with k2, p1.
   6. Use Jeny's surprisingly stretchy bind off in pattern.
   
   Thumbs:
   
   1. Transfer held stitches to your needles and, using black pick up 3 (or a couple more) stitches from the backward loop cast on. When I pick up stitches here, I like to pick up one or two extras, to minimize the holes. Then I decrease as needed on the following row. I picked up 5 st, then decreased two on the following row for 16 thumb stitches.
   2. Work one row black, two rows teal, and one more row black. 
   3. Knit 2x2 rib for 3 rounds.
   4. Bind off, not using Jeny's, but not too tightly either. It's not unheard of for me to have to undo my cast on till I get the right tension. 
   
   Here, you'll weave in your ends and wear, or move on to add the wrist strap and button. Your choice. I think they're cute either way. (I'd still go ahead and weave in the ends before picking up stitches for the strap.)
   
   For each glove, you'll turn it over so the palm side is up, and pick up stitches directly below the thumb, and on the "inside" of the stripe-change "seam." You should pick them up so the flap comes out from the side of the seam closest to the palm. Leave a long-ish tail to sew the strap down with later. You'll be picking up 6 stitches, starting at the bottom of the black stripe directly below the thumb, and spanning the next 3 stripes down. You should have 4 stripes below the "strap." Remember, you are picking up stitches perpendicular to the stripes, so your strap will be running parallel to them.
   
   
   
   
   •  Knit in stockinette for 3.5 inches. 
   • K1, k2tog, ssk, k1.
   • Purl.
   • Knit.
   • Purl.
   • Bind off. (If you pay close attention, you'll see that I decreased again, but I didn't like how that ended up looking, so your strap end won't be so pointy.) Leave a good 6+ inches of tail for sewing down.
     
     
     
    Wet block the gloves. You don't want to stretch them (although they'll likely grow just a bit,) but you want to use as many pins as necessary to flatten out the strap and eliminate the curl.
   

   

   See how curly?

   
   

   
   

   

   I know it seems like a ridiculous amount of pins but you don't want scallops.

   
   

   
   

   Once they are all dry, just sew the flap down (using those crazy tails) and attach a button near the end of the flap! 



Voila!

 

5. I hope this is written okay; if you have any (constructive) feedback, please let me know! I've never posted a pattern I sort of came up with before, so be kind. I say "sort of" because really, is any pattern truly original? It's all just combinations of stuff other people have done before. To that end, use this pattern however you want to. If you feel like giving me credit, I thank you. Happy knitting!

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Knitty chatter

I'mma knit me a  sweater. Most anyone who talks to me for more than 15 seconds knows that I love to knit (and crochet!) It's something I always wanted to do, and set out to learn a few years ago. With the help of my mom and some instructional books, that's just what I did. And something strange happened...I found a hobby.
Now, I have always wanted a hobby. But I'm not good at things. I can cook, and I can make you laugh, but I wouldn't call cooking a hobby, more something that needs to be done so it gets done well. And the laughing, well half the time I don't even mean for that to happen. That is a talent, but not a hobby.
I scrapbooked a little once. That costs a lot of money to start up. And I can sew, but that takes a lot of time to set up and take down, and it's noisy. Not the best hobby for someone who's trying to steal a moment here and there with her young children afoot. Yarnwork is so quiet, so portable. You can take it with you anywhere. You can work on it while your toddler naps on the couch next to you. You can take a spare ten minutes and actually get something accomplished!
So now, I am a knitter. And a hooker.I am also a self-professed yarn snob and not ashamed of it. I spend much of my computer time perusing Ravelry either to find ways to use up yarn I have in my stash, or to get ideas for what projects I might want to buy yarn FOR. I have made lots of knitty friends, and my weekly "me" night is spent at the local yarn shop, which hosts a weekly knit night for those of us who want to shop, visit, and get tips and advice. They sell many luxury yarns that make you just want to curl up in them and sleep amid a whirlwind of color. The two owners, not to mention the half dozen employees, are friendly, outgoing, and knowledgeable. I have never left the store feeling like I've wasted my time, and to be honest, knit night may have saved my life while I battled postpartum depression.
I love to knit. I've taught a few friends to knit, and my new biggest fear is to be incapacitated in the hands. I am thankful for a hobby that I love and that enables me to make a little money and make beautiful and whimsical things for people I love.

Now, onto the meat of this post.
I alter patterns. I very rarely follow a pattern to the letter. I often mean to, but then I fudge and it comes out all my own. I am working on a top right now, a short-sleeved fitted sweater with a keyhole neck and little pockets built right in. I am using a lovely hand-dyed, robin's egg superwash wool, and foregoing the pockets on the bottom. It is going to be lovely, and I hope it fits me the way it fits the model in the photo.
I also ordered yarn last night for a wonderful sweater that I am dang near gutting in order to make it my own. The pattern is called "Snowbird" and it is a cardigan sweater with very long sleeves, about upper-thigh length. It is knit in a few pieces in reverse stockinette, with stockinette false seams and a thick collar of stockinette. I especially love the patch pockets. Now, you may ask why I would alter the pattern drastically if I am so in love with the way it looks. Think of it as buying a house. It's perfect because you can make it your own. And I'mma gonna. I'm starting with a dark blue heathered wool. I am starting at the neck with a provisional cast-on, and working a seed stitch collar which will continue down the front of the sweater, on the cuffs, the hem, and the pockets. Instead of reverse stockinette, I will be knitting in stockinette. I have not decided if I am going to go ahead and seed stitch on the false hems, or just skip them altogether. It will be upper-thigh length on me, and then I will add a hood at the end, including the same seed stitch panel as will be present down the front of the sweater. I am so excited to start, and I can't wait to share.

Thanks for reading!

I Want to be a Tool.

Today, in Relief Society, a sister in my ward gave a lesson on service. She compared us to workman's tools; a small and mighty screwdriver, a wrench she called the "no instructions needed" tool, a more specialized "bishop's tool" used for only one or two things but which no other tool could do, and a "beasty yet sensitive" torque wrench. She asked several other sisters in the ward to come forward and share about times in their lives when they have been blessed by service either by serving others or being the one served. She spoke of several stories in the scriptures where Christ served his kingdom, and finished by challenging each of us to be the kind of tool we ARE, and use whatever talent we have inside of us to serve our fellow man, and in so doing, to serve Christ. We finished with they hymn "As Sisters in Zion," which always chokes me up...and that can be pretty embarrassing when you're the chorister. These are the lyrics:

As sisters in Zion, we'll all work together;
The blessings of God on our labors we'll seek.
We'll build up his kingdom with earnest endeavor;
We'll comfort the weary and strengthen the weak.

The errand of angels is given to women;
And this is a gift that, as sisters, we claim;
To do whatsoever is gentle and human;
To cheer and to bless in humanity's name.

How vast is our purpose, how broad is our mission,
If we but fulfill it in spirit and deed.
Oh, naught but the Spirit's divinest tuition
Can give us the wisdom to truly succeed.

I never can remember past the first verse because that's when I tear up and lose my place. Those first two lines of the second verse fill me with something I can't really explain. The errand of angels. The idea that our job as women is to be a comfort and bring about kindness and growth to each other, just feels so right. As I'm writing this I'm thinking that this has to do with the natural birth movement; the idea of women attending women in their hour of need. Maybe this is why natural birthing, breastfeeding peer support, and the like mean so much to me. But I am getting off-topic. The purpose of my writing today was these words that the teacher spoke today; "Some of you may think you don't have anything to offer in service to your sisters, but we each have some talent that will benefit someone, no matter how small it may seem to you."

What is my talent? What is my service? And when I offer, is it given as a service or is my message clouded by my own imperfect expectations? Am I showing the love of Christ to those I encounter? Am I shining with the light of Christ? I don't know if I am. But I want to. I don't know my God the way He knows me. And I want to. The only way I can do this is by studying the works He has given us full of loving instruction and reprimand, and by speaking to Him, personally, every day. I am disappointed in my own complacency and lack of effort. This needs to change. The only way I will know I am doing what He wants me to do, is by knowing HIM. I want to be a tool, used by Him to bring His love to others who may not be feeling it at the time. I need to work harder at being less selfish...or less broadly selfish at least. I know there are times that selfishness is a good thing, but I think I use it too much, I rely upon myself too much, forgetting how much He loves me, and how He wants me to turn to Him, how much He wants to help me with my burdens that feel so heavy at times I worry I'll be crushed. This means that I have work to do, and I am eager to do it.

Recommitment

So most of you know that I don't believe in New Year's "resolutions." I think a lot of people think of a list of things they don't like about themselves and overwhelm themselves. You don't overhaul your personality all at once. It doesn't work. So I've been known to make a few goals, work on a few bad habits, but I don't really think of them a resolutions.
This year, I have some goals; to get caught up on laundry (and stay caught up) by the end of this month, and to get my garage cleaned up and organized by the time the baby comes. Both kind of large undertakings, but I know we can get them done. (Yeah, I'm not trying to do it all on my own when I'm pregnant. That would be crazypants.)
Now, I haven't been to church in awhile; after finding out I was pregnant and all the tired and pukey hit, and then with the surgery, it's been over a month. It's always amazing to me how easy it is to not go, even when it's not hard TO go. And the longer you go without going to church, the easier it is to just roll over and say, "Forget it, maybe next week." What also amazes me is how I don't realize how much my lack of attendance affects me until I'm sitting in church, filled with peace at knowing I'm where I should be, and feeling the promptings of the Spirit telling me to listen to what's being said, and to apply it to my own life, for my sake and my family's. On the way home, we talked as a family about what we'd learned today and how to recommit ourselves to living the Gospel to its fullest. We are severely lacking in daily prayer, daily scripture study, and Family Home Evening. Something that occurred to me today is that I am the one who is usually the facilitator of these things. And just like one person doing all the housework isn't fair, it isn't fair for one person to be the decider of whether things happen or not. So I asked for everyone's help, and we all made a commitment to each other to encourage us all to do these things we are commanded to do, and to participate fully. I feel really good about it, and I look forward to the blessings our actions will inevitably bring.

Thanks for reading.

Been awhile

Boy, has it been a long time since I updated! I've been terrible about reading my friends' blogs, too; for that I apologize. Life has been pretty hectic since we've moved in here. I am not one to settle right in and make home; maybe by the time Aaron retires in 15 years I will have that little skill down. Our garage is such a giant mess, and I am buried in laundry. Most of you know why this is; around the time I was writing my last blog, unbeknownst to us, we made a new addition to our family. I am now 11 weeks along, and the baby is due July 27th. It has been a big huge adjustment to my mental. I am a bit of a control freak, and I like to plan things. So being pregnant as a surprise has been a bit of a struggle, mentally. I am coming around, though! I hired a midwife yesterday who I'm really excited about, and I'm planning a waterbirth here at the house. I never really was interested in a waterbirth before, but while laboring with Jack I kept wishing I had a nice tub. So I'm pretty excited about that, and I guess I didn't realize how much I was stressing about it. I feel so much better, more relaxed, and more able to focus on the joy that is a new baby.
Aaron and I have been teasing each other a lot about what the baby's gender might be. (A lot of people have been asking me if I know the gender yet....I don't understand this. I'm only 11 weeks.) When I first got pregnant, I was really wanting a boy. In a "If I have to be pregnant it better be a friggin' boy" way. As time has gone on, I have been feeling unendingly girl feelings. Of course, I was convinced Libby was a boy, so who knows. We'll hopefully find out around the beginning of March. Aaron has been pushing for a boy. I know we'll both be happy either way, although I do think it'd be nice for Jack to have a brother.
This pregnancy so far has been a whirlwind. Finding out right before Thanksgiving, waiting for the morning sickness to kick in so I could feel confident that Baby was sticking. On December 10th, I woke up with a pain in my side that I'd been trying to ignore for a couple of days. That morning, it was intense. I decided to call my neighbor and ask her to watch the kids, and have Aaron come home and take me to the ER. I couldn't walk the kids over to the neighbor's house, and by the time Aaron got home I was a whimpering mess on the floor. I'm sure it must have been scary for him to come home to that. He carried me into the ER, and a few tests later an OB came in and told me that it looked like what I had was a standard uterine pregnancy along with a tubal pregnancy on the right side. The chances of this are 1 in 30,000, and the only solution was surgery. If I left it to rupture, it could kill me, and methotrexate, a chemical solution, would destroy the uterine pregnancy as well. I was fine until they wheeled me away from Aaron. I panicked for a minute seeing him walk away but I knew this needed to be done. The personnel at the hospital were very kind to me, and the surgery went without a hitch. Instead of a tubal pregnancy, what they found was a blood-filled cyst on my right Fallopian tube. Removal went fine, and I was sent home that night. I recovered fine, except for a couple of stubborn undissolved stitches, and baby hung on despite a 50/50 chance of miscarriage.
We stayed home during the holidays due to cost, and I think we've discovered a new joy in a nice, relaxing holiday at home. When we go visiting for the holidays, there is always a lot of scheduling and traveling...everyone lives so far apart! It has been nice not to run all over the puckerbrush anymore.
As a result of the pregnancy, my milk supply is diminishing like crazy, so, alas, I'm forced to wean Jack. It was really hard for me to admit at first, but obviously some things are beyond our control. We are starting with night weaning, and it's going pretty well. It's exhausting, though.
My little girl is turning 8 in a few weeks, and her Grammie and Poppa are coming up for a couple of weeks to be here for her baptism and hopefully give Aaron and I some much-needed couple's time. Then, in March, we are hoping for a visit from my brother and his family. I can't wait to meet my niece! And, maybe in April, my bff will be visiting. So this should be a very exciting spring, and I'm sure it'll fly by!
That's what I've got for now. Hopefully it won't be 3 months before I update again. Thank you for reading.

Italian Sausage and Pepper Pasta

This is freakin' amazing. EAT IT!

1 package fresh Italian sausage, mild or hot (your preference) I like Johnsonville.
Evoo
4 cloves garlic, chopped or grated
1 whole white onion, chopped
1 each yellow, green, orange, and red bell peppers, sliced into thin strips
1 small can tomato paste
1 8 0z can tomato sauce
Salt and pepper to taste
Fettucine or other hearty pasta
Italian cheese blend
Garlic bread (I like Pepperidge Farm)

Preheat the oven for the bread and put on a big pot of salted water to boil.

Prick the sausages with a fork or knife and put them in a skillet with about half an inch of water and 2 tbsp of EVOO. Turn the heat onto medium-high and bring it to a boil. Then turn it down to a simmer. After the water boils off, the sausages will get brown and crispy in the oil.

In a saucepan, heat about 2 tbsp of EVOO and add the garlic and onions till they get soft. Then add the peppers strips and cook and stir till they are tender. Then add the tomato paste and about 1/2 a cup of water to the pan. Stir till the tomato is diluted and evenly spread about the pan. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Then add the tomato sauce and mix it all up. Bring to a boil, then turn down to a simmer and cover.

When you put the pasta in to boil, put the bread in the oven. Drain the pasta when it's al dente or just shy of.

When everything is all cooked, put the pasta in a baking pan and toss gently with most of the sauce. Nestle the sausages down into the saucey pasta and pour the remaining sauce on top. Cover the whole thing with lots of cheese. Take the bread out and turn off the oven. Then put the baking pan in the oven until the cheese all melts.

Take out of the oven and serve with yummy bread alongside. Enjoy!

I Am the Cooker of Delicious Things.

I think that'll be the new title for when I post recipes.

Last night we had Oven-Fried Pork Chops, which I can't take credit for. The recipe is from Better Homes & Gardens. On the side we had mashed taters with feta and California blend with garlic butter. Mmmmmm.

Ok. So you start with some boneless pork chops that are about 3/4 of an inch thick, and do an egg wash with an egg, a little milk, and some pepper. (Why is pork naturally salty? This is a question that just occurred to me. I think I'll Google it.) Then, you roll the chops in some dry herb stuffing mix that you've crushed down fine. In a 13 x 9 pan with a little puddle of butter on the bottom, you put the chops and cook them on 425* for about ten minutes, turn, and cook for 10-15 more. Internal temp should be 160*.
For the potatoes, I just boiled some red potatoes and mashed with butter and chicken stock, then added about a half a cup of feta. Next time I'll add it sooner so the cheese melts a little better.
California blend = fresh broccoli and cauliflower florets with baby carrots, steamed/boiled in a little bit of chicken stock, then tossed with garlic butter (heat equal parts EVOO and butter on low with some chopped garlic), salt, and pepper. Emily even said the veggies were the best part, and usually she acts like I'm trying to kill her when I tell her to eat her broccoli.

Tonight, we had Pesto Chicken sandwiches on ciabatta bread. Aaron wanted my version of chicken cordon bleu, which entails provolone in place of Swiss and prosciutto in place of ham, but prosciutto costs an arm and a freakin' leg at Wal-mart, so that was a no-go. They did have day-old ciabatta bread on sale, so I bought some of that, fresh spinach, provolone, and jarred pesto. I was thinking of the Barefoot Contessa's pesto bread where she spreads it on ciabatta and then toasts it. So I cut the chicken breasts in half longwise (to make two thin pieces from one breast piece) and salted and peppered them and grilled them. I cut the loaf of ciabatta in half the same way and spread the pesto on it. Next time, I will probably toast the bread a bit before assembling the sandwich, but I didn't this time. I layered spinach on top of provolone on the bottom piece of bread, placed the chicken breasts, and topped them with tomatoes and more provolone. Then, place under the broiler to melt the cheese and put the top piece on and cut the whole thing into servings. They were big Schlotzsky's-style sandwiches. I served them with a side of fries. So good! I also might, next time, use the pesto beaten with an egg to bread some chicken (as in, dip the bread in the pesto/egg and then the breadcrumbs and then fry.) If I do, I'll let you know how it went. If you try it first, let me know!

Thanks for reading, and happy eating! PS, both these meals took about half an hour to make and serve.

No More Berger Babies

When I got married, I wanted six kids. Then I had one, and my pregnancy seemed eternal and I was SO. SICK, and I thought, okay, how about not six. Then I had another, and I wasn't so sick, but my body aches were awful. At the end, my sciatica was so bad I couldn't even walk across my living room without leaning on something. I was 22. I thought, maybe we'll have two more. Then, when my second baby turned out to be super clingy and allergic to sleeping through the night, I tried to get Aaron to have a vasectomy. He refused; he said we were too young and we'd regret it. Wouldn't you know he was right? Don't you just hate when your husband is right? So a year passes and I want to try for another. We do, and we lose the baby. (They say you can start trying for a baby right off birth control, and maybe some women can, but both times I have, I've miscarried. But I digress.) So while Aaron was in Iraq, we both did some serious thinking. We had two wonderful children. They were both potty-trained. They were both weaned. We had a rhythm, and a pattern, and were we sure we wanted to mess around with that? But I wanted a homebirth. I wanted to cloth diaper a baby from the beginning. Neither of which is a good reason to have a baby, in my opinion. I didn't want to have another BABY just to say I'd had a HOMEBIRTH, you understand? I did a lot of thinking, a lot of soul-searching, and I just knew, knew that there was another child waiting for us to get on the ball so he or she could join our family. So then I had to talk Aaron into it. I knew that I wouldn't be able to feel peaceful with our family knowing that it wasn't complete. So we got pregnant, and from the beginning, it kicked my butt! At 5 weeks, I had a staph infection and had to be put on antibiotics that made me violently ill. I had to fight with the nurses to change my medication because they kept telling me it was just morning sickness. Trust me, I could tell the difference. But, lucky me, my morning sickness started up really soon thereafter. And it was AWFUL. So. Sick. I lay on the couch for weeks. At 13 weeks, we moved. I was useless. And the whole time, I thought THIS IS MY LAST PREGNANCY. Everyone told me I was silly and I would want more, 26 is too young to be finished with your family. Seems like they were all ignoring the fact that I'd NEVER felt done before and that 26 is plenty old enough when you've got three kids! As soon as Jack was born, my family felt perfect. He's the candles on the birthday cake that is the Bergers. Still, every so often I think how much I love having a newborn. How I feel like a goddess for about a month when I'm round and not puking but not a house yet. How his birth was so empowering and I want to do it again! And then I remember the puking, the pain, the sleeplessness, etc.
I had a scare last week. I was about 4 days late, and although I've been keeping pretty close track of my cycles and this was only my 3rd cycle since getting my period back (so it could very well be irregular still) I bought a test. I spent a couple days asking myself, "What if I am pregnant?" And the answer would come, "So you'll have a baby." But I didn't WANT a baby. I have a baby. He's only a year old. IF we had another, I'd want it to be in a year or so. But do I want another baby at all? I think the true answer to that comes in the two minutes after you've peed on the stick and before the blue lines show up. And my answer was ABSOLUTELY NOT! I truly, truly, am done making tiny people. The ones I've made are so great! And they keep me very busy. And, more importantly, I don't feel like there's anyone else missing. I've never envisioned Jack as a big brother. I've never seen myself pregnant again. I am done having babies. I realize now that there are phases to marriage and child-having. I've spent the last 9 years making babies and nursing babies and changing babies and planning the next baby. Of course, watching them grow, helping them grow, and all the blessings that come with that. But now, I look toward my family's future and I don't see anymore babies, only big kids. I'm so excited about this phase! This new phase of only big kids, and all the fun THAT entails. I can't wait.

Knitting Anxiety

I wanted to learn to knit and crochet. When I was a little girl, I remember watching my mom turn balls of yarn into comfy, cozy blankets, hats, and other yummy things. I thought she was a magician. When I was 12, she tried to teach me, and I think it took about 2 days for me to throw the needles down in disgust and walk away. Knitting was for old ladies and I was not an old lady.

This summer, I decided to give it a go. It took some doing, but I am now confident in my emerging yarnworking skills.

Somewhat confident. Well, like, 35% of the time.

Okay, I have severe knitting anxiety. I have yet to cast-on a project and finish it without frogging at least two or three times. I have balls of yarn I've started a few times, made a little progress on, and then either (A) found a mistake too far back to really fix, or (B) realize this yarn is not right for this pattern or project. I have a decent stash, especially considering the big box of yarn my friend Jamie sent me. I do small projects here and there. For about 2 months there wasn't one day I didn't at least start a project. Now I got maybe a day or two in between. I've never really had a hobby. Something I did, was good at, and kept at. This is a hobby. I love it. LOVE IT. I'm completely addicted. I love yarn. I love hooks. I love needles. I love Ravelry, and I love Knitpicks, and I love the soft, yarny things I have created for my friends and loved ones.

Why did I want to learn to knit and crochet? I have this afghan. It's a ripple design, made with a super soft cotton yarn. It's white, pink, two shades of turquoise, and a cantaloupe color. When I was 12, I asked my mom to make it for me. She finished it just before my first year of girls' camp, and it went with me every year. It's not exactly square, and one end of it is slightly dingy and always has been. I don't know why, but I also don't care. I love that afghan. I will always love it. I will keep it until it's in tatters because my Mommy made it for me. I wanted that. I wanted to make things for people. For them to use the things I made and think, "I have this because Betsy loves me." I always feel loved when I wrap up in that afghan, and I want to send my love to the people I love. Like a tangible hug. And now I can, and it makes me incredibly happy. It may be cheesy, but I absolutely love it.

And it gives me anxiety. Is it normal to frog several times before really buckling down and finishing? And as I'm knitting, I think, "Is this the right color? Does this look alright? Do you think it'll fit? Do you think she/he'll like it?" And that's the big one. Will they like it? Will they know how much I loved crafting this? Will they appreciate the work and frustration and anxiety that's gone into it? Will they wear it? Will they follow the care instructions? Will it last? My poor sweet husband is so patient with my knitting insecurity. I don't know how he does it, but he always smiles and pats me on the head and tells me how great it is and how great I am at it. It's weird; I am confident that I am a good knitter. But I'm also incredibly insecure about it.

I love it, though. Maybe I'll become less anxious as I get better and more experienced. And maybe next blog I'll showcase all the great stuff I've made.

Nine Years

It's odd to think how different life was 9 years ago. Many things change in that amount of time, but I can't help but have 9/11 on the brain today. I think about it often, which I think is normal in my situation.
I was a senior in high school. I had been married 3 months and had my whole life in front of me. We had just moved out of Aaron's parents' house. I was an office aide, and I remember thinking it was an awful accident as I watched the news, the first tower in flames. When the second plane hit, my stomach dropped and I felt this horrible sense of dread. So many people died that day. Innocent people who were minding their own business, running the rat race, providing for their families. I wonder how many of them had fought with their spouses the night before. How many of them didn't kiss their kids goodbye? How many people's lives ground to a halt that day, as they found out their loved ones had been in the building or on the plane that will never be forgotten?
I think of the fear I felt, and I didn't lose anyone in the attack. I can't imagine the feelings of those who did. Aaron had class that ngiht, and I begged him not to go. I was shaken. My faith in humanity took a hard hard hit, and I thought this was the end of the world. I saw all my plans for the future going out the window. They'd bring back the draft. My husband would be sent to war and killed. I'd never have children. (Um, I was 18, and prone to panic.) Anyway, I needed my husband that night.
A lot of people compare it to Pearl Harbor, and it is like Pearl Harbor. The worst attack on US soil, a cowardly act that killed so many people who'd never done anyone wrong. I don't know the numbers, how many people flocked to recruiting offices on December 8, 1941, but I've heard that there were lines out the doors. It took some serious talking to convince my own husband not to sign up to be a gun-totin' infantryman that very day. He was angry, and he wanted to protect his country. I begged him. I cried. I told him I couldn't handle being an infantryman's wife and that I couldn't stay married to him if he joined the Army. I am not proud of that, but it was honest.
I can't believe where life has taken us since then. Even now, I am sometimes taken aback to realize I am married to a soldier! I always said I couldn't marry a military man, and I'm sure I wouldn't have looked twice at Aaron had he been in the Army or planning to sign up when we'd met.

Tonight, tomorrow, and every single day, my heart goes out to those who lost loved ones in the attack. My heart goes to those who lose their loved ones in the war, and to those who sacrifice so much time and so many life experiences with their families to fight for something they believe in, whether it's the war, their way of life, or even just their own families.

I don't know how to end this.

Mondayish

This past Monday was one of those moderately crappy Monday that Mondays are famous for. Nothing major, just one minor inconvenience or bit of bad news after another all pile on top of each other to make, well, a Monday. The capper was when, after taking all damn morning to talk myself into going up to the school to register the girls, I was told that the office was closed for the rest of the day. Well, we had planned on visiting the post library afterward anyway, so we headed there. Next to the library is this big grassy area with a few fat conifers casting deep shadow on the green velvet grass. The high that day was in the low 60's, and the sky was blue as blue could be, with interspersed marshmallow clouds. So we took off our shoes and played.

Emily mostly read her book and rolled her eyes at our nerdiness. It was such a beautiful day. I laughed with my children, and I was struck again, as I am most days, with a sense of deep gratitude that I am blessed enough to live in a place so full of natural beauty. Does life get any better than this? So, yeah, we turned this crappy Monday on its ear.

Education

School is starting up again on Thursday. My babiest girl is starting Kindergarten, and my big girl will be in 2nd grade. I can't believe it! Time goes so fast now, I sometimes don't know where the whole week has gone.
Today, we got to church about 45 minutes late. We caught a talk by a member of the congregation about how important education is. The Church teaches us that education is always beneficial. The only thing we take with us to the next life is what we have learned in this life, so anything we learn here can only be good. I remember once, talking to Aaron about my own education. I didn't have a clear goal, and I said that I didn't want to go to school and end up wasting an education, and he said that there was no such thing as a wasted education. I love that about him. Today, after church, he told me that he'd heard some political chatter about how college is not for everyone, and kind of discouraging people from going to school. Now, I know that college isn't for everyone, but I very much disagree with the notion that most people aren't cut out for a formal university education. I resent the notion that anyone's desire for an education is unfounded.
It's gotten me thinking. I always said that I'd go back to school once all our kids were in school. For a long time I didn't have a clear plan. Then, I did have a plan but I felt too overwhelmed to really think about what to do with it. When we moved to Georgia, Jack was brand new and most of that year is a complete blur. Plus, knowing that Georgia was temporary wasn't exactly motivating. Now, we're in Washington for at least three years. If Aaron ends up going Green to Gold, he's going to shoot for University of Washington (commonly referred to as U-Dub, of all things) here in Tacoma, which would give us 2 more years here. Now, I know I'll have Jack at home, but I have had a plan for about a year now, and I'm ready to make it happen. I'm jealous of all my friends who are taking online classes. I want to further myself. I've been thinking so much about my kids' education, which is a good thing, for sure, but I have been ignoring mine.
I want to be a Certified Professional Midwife. I want to help women birth at home if they so choose. I will need a Master's degree to do that. My Bachelor's will be in nursing. I want to become a nurse and work as a nurse for awhile in a hospital's ob ward, just because I think it'll only be beneficial to be well-rounded. I want to have the medical side and the natural side. After I've worked as a nurse for awhile, I'll go for my Master's and do whatever that entails to become a CPM. I think it's really really time for me to get back to school. I know there are programs for military dependents, and I'd like to take advantage of them, so anyone with experience in this area, your input will be really appreciated.
I'd also like to add that I want to become ASL certified in the process; that might be my first step. I love sign and I feel that having that certification will only help to make me more valuable in my field.

So that's my plan, and I'm ready to make it happen. Pray for me. It's been over five years since I stepped foot in a classroom that didn't have chairs that were only knee-high. I'm a little scared, a little nervous, and really really excited.

Wool Interlock Shorties

So about six months ago, I bought some 100% wool interlock and
then realized I was afraid of it and put it away. Last week I realized that all my PUL covers are uncomfortable for Jack and decided to switch completely to wool instead, so I figured now was as good a time as any to attempt some shorties for him. He's got 3 soakers; 2 Babyology and one JJBB interlock.
A long time ago, I believe my friend Juliea over at Gypsy Jewels posted a link to this blog that shows how to make a pair of pants out of a tee-shirt, and I tried it out and loved it. I was able to make a nice pair of stretchy pants with enough rise to cover his diaper! It was great.
So I was looking at Katrina's Pattern but I didn't know where my printer was to print out the template. I also found this blog with instructions on how to add an elastic waistband, so I kind of threw the t-shirt pattern and the elastic waistband together. The result was not as perfect as I'd like, but very decent for a first try, I'd say.
I used a pair of the baby's shorts to cut out the template, and left enough at the bottom for him to grow into. I also wanted them to be big enough to have some growing room. I also added an extra layer to the wet zone in the hopes that they would be nightworthy.


I cut a buttonhole in the waistband, as directed, and added some
3/4-inch non-roll elastic. They came out really well until the hem, which ruffled a bit more than I'd like. I think next time I'll just do the hem by hand.
I then used iDye in Gunmetal Grey, but I didn't have a pot and spoon that I could ruin, so I did them in the wash and they came out much lighter than anticipated:I still like them. They're really soft, and I threw them in the dryer and that was pretty awesome. I may re-dye them, but for now I'm pretty happy with them.

Here are some action shots:
I know where I made a few mistakes, so hopefully the next pair comes out lots better!

Randoms

I'm a terrible housekeeper. Most people know this about me and they either judge me for it or love me anyway. Maybe a combination of the two! Whenever we move, I re-pledge not to let it get that bad again, and each time I get a little better but not as good about it as I'd like. I refuse to be a slob. My house has been a disaster for weeks, and I just got up this morning and took on the downstairs. I made the girls help. They are really good little workers once you get them going! So the living room looks awesome, the play area just needs to be vacuumed, and then I'll tackle this kitchen! I hate a sticky floor. And all this with a sick baby and the worst cramps in the history of the universe. Now that it's served its purpose, I hate my uterus. I wish it would realize I'm done using it and it can just close up shop.

I miss my sister. She's 7 years older than I am, and she moved out when I was 8 or so. It was really hard to deal with that. I felt abandoned, and didn't realize at the time that it was exactly what she needed. Our home environment was not real conducive to her mental health. (That's a nice way of saying she was going nuts. Ha.) So for a long time, she kept treating me like a little kid, and I kept being afraid to stick up for myself because I was afraid she'd stop talking to me. I don't know why, I just was. When I got married, she came to the wedding and kept saying, "Someone's gonna be porkin' my little sister!" It was not at all embarrassing. So then when Aaron joined the Army, we were stationed three hours away from her, and I was so nervous about it. The funniest thing happened, though. She became my best friend. Something switched; maybe it was the fact that she went through a few years of nothing but changes, and needed someone and I was there. Maybe it was the fact that seeing me, living my life as an adult, made her realize that I was more than her baby sister. I don't know, but I do know that being stationed at Campbell was the best thing at the time, and I'm so grateful for the relationship we have now. I have other best friends, too; Laura, who I met at Campbell and is a darling, Tosha, who I've been friends with for ten years, Summer, who I met on Myspace and have only hooked up with twice but I can talk to her about anything and I know she'll listen and be supportive. But there is something very special about sharing blood with your best friend. I wish all sisters could know this bond we share. I miss her. While at Campbell we saw each other fairly often, every couple months at least. She drove down when Emily was burned. I drove up when Gracie was born. She drove down (about 18 times) when I was laboring with Jack. Almost got fired over it, even. Her manager told her, "It's not your responsibility to drive down there every time your sister 'thinks' she's in labor." And Teresa said, "You're obviously not a part of my family." Damn, I love her. I haven't seen her since June when Jack was 3 weeks old. I haven't seen my niece. They are coming to visit in November, and I'm so excited, but some days I miss them so much it's all I can do not to cry. My heart needs a seester hug.

November is also going to be amazing because my niece, Rhiannon, and her mother Patty are coming to visit me. I have never met either of them. Rhiannon's dad is my half-brother Josh, who I've also never met. Much drama entails that story so I won't get into it, but I can't freaking wait! Rhiannon is going to have her 17th birthday here. They're only coming for a few days, but I am so excited I could poop myself. It's going to be wonderful.

I miss Aaron when he's not here. It doesn't matter if it's a day, a week, or a month. (I can't say year because we've never been apart that long, but I have a feeling someday we will have to.) No matter how long he's gone, my heart aches till he's home. I don't feel whole without him.

I labeled and packed up all the girls' school supplies today. Still have to get Emily a pencil sharpener; that's the only thing we forgot. I can't believe she's in 2nd grade, and Libby is in Kindergarten. The time, she flies. Libby's so cute with her giant bag full of pencils and junk!
Also, I would sell my soul for some brownies right now. I'm not even kidding.

Grilled Chicken Caesar Salad Sandwiches

Boy, is it just me or is that really long? Anyway, this is kind of semi-homemade. My husband loves chicken Caesar but it doesn't really fill him up. So I thought I'd make sandwiches, using cheesy garlic bread. Sounds nom, right? Not, I wanted to marinate the chicken but I didn't really think the creamy Caesar dressing would work well. So I opened her up and sniffed it and then concocted a marinade. So these measurements are very approximate.

4 boneless, skinless chicken breast halves
EVOO
2-4 cloves chopped garlic
salt
cracked black pepper
1/4 cup or so of red wine vinegar (lemon juice would also be good, or a combination of the two)`
1/2-1 tsp dry mustard
1/4-1/2 tsp cumin
1 tbsp dried thyme, crushed
2-3 tsp onion powder
3 romaine hearts
Caesar dressing (I like Kraft.)
1-2 loaves frozen Pepperidge Farm garlic bread. I like the five cheese.

Whisk together everything between EVOO and the onion powder. Pour over the trimmed up chicken breasts in a gallon sized Ziploc bag and stick it in the fridge for a day or two. It helps if you stab a few holes in the chicken breasts (and it's fun too.) Also, put the bag in a big bowl so it doesn't leak chicken juice all over teh bottom of your fridge.
Preheat your oven to 375.
Preheat a grill pan over medium-high heat. If you use cast iron, it'll infuse some extra iron into your food! Just a lil tidbit. Make sure your grill is good and hot so you get those nice lines. Then, transfer your chicken titties to an oven-safe pan (I used a cast-iron skillet that's older than I am,) stick a meat thermometer in there that'll go off when the chicken gets to 175-180*. When the timer goes off, take teh chicken out to rest a bit and turn the oven up to 400. Put the bread in.
Wash the romaine and cut it up for the salad, and toss with the dressing in a big bowl. Now, I stopped here, cut up my chicken, and served the salad with the bread on the side. But you could also toast the bread for just a minute or two longer and then make giant, delicious sammitches. The choice is yours. Let me know if you try out this recipe!

August 2010

So I haven't blogged in what feels like a million years, but my good friend April requested an update, so here it is. I have started a few times, but felt somewhat anti-climactic. Moving can be that way. You have the stress and excitement of finding a place to live, reserving the moving company, and all that jazz and then once you get there it's just like, Oh. Well, time to unpack of a bunch of boxes now. Fun. But we are settling in. Slowly. I've actually kind of lost my forward momentum, which I attribute to two things. First, I am overwhelmed by the sheer amount of CRAP that we own. I thought I'd gotten rid of a lot, but there is much more work to be done. Second, Aaron has been working almost nonstop the last few weeks, to prepare for a 3-week training mission that he leaves for on Tuesday. Hopefully, after that, we will get to enjoy what I think of as "real" SF Support, which is a lot of long weekends and short days. We like this. So my plan is to put all my boxes in the garage so the area I'm in all the time looks decent and then just unpacking a box a day. Eventually it will become necessary to get some storage bins and shelving for the garage. It'll be slow, but some momentum is better than none.
I love my house, by the way. We have this huge, bright, eat-in kitchen with tons of counterspace and cabinets. We have a living room and a play area, and each of the kids have their own room (even if Jack sleeps with us, haha.) Two full baths, and a half-bath downstairs. It's really nice, but I miss having a yard. Someday soon I hope to live somewhere that doesn't share walls with strangers.
Aaron's doing well in his job. When he first arrived at this unit, he was assigned as a section sergeant, which is pretty cool for a new sergeant. He was told that they thought he'd been an NCO for awhile, which doesn't surprise me. He's a natural-born leader. He's got three soldiers under him, and is responsible for 9 billion dollars worth of equipment. Half of it doesn't work, hence the long long days, but it's still pretty great. He seems to enjoy his colleagues for the most part, and being in the position to him seems to come naturally. I'm very proud of him. He worried, at first, that giving him a leadership position was to set him up, but it doesn't seem that way. They want to send him to WLC in October and then to the board shortly after that. We may see E-6 before long!

I am really enjoying the weather. It's so nice and cool here, and the overcast really doesn't even bother me. It's so cool that most of the homes up here don't have air conditioning. Growing up in Houston and then living the rest of my life in the South, this was completely unbelievable to me, but it's true that you don't really need it. There are so many trees here. The air tastes different. People are really nice, and there's a 10% LDS population, which is the most concentration I've ever experienced. It makes me more aware of myself and helps me to behave. :) I have met a few really nice people at church. I have adopted a practice: when I go to a new ward, I try and leave myself very open to impressions about people. In the past, when I've done this, and then followed the impressions I get, I am not disappointed. If I have the urge to say hello to someone, then I do it. I have a playdate scheduled for this week with a woman I was impressed to talk to. She seems very sweet and I'm excited to get to know her better. I still miss Steven's Creek like you wouldn't believe, but I think that ward will forever be the standard that all other wards are compared to. Steven's Creek felt like home. This ward is very nice, too, though. Also, some friends from Campbell, the Allens, are here. It's really nice to get to hang out with people who are comfortable. They also did us a HUGE service when all the moving BS was going down. Without Travis, this whole situation would have been even worse. Hard to imagine, but it's true. I also need to find my local LLL! Plus, I have several friends I've known online for years but never met that live in this area, so that's really exciting. I'm especially excited about meeting Kaaren in real life. She is this sweet, wonderful person I met online when Aaron and I were dating. We wrote while she was on her mission, been there for each other through a lot of rough times, and I can't wait to hang out with her. A part of me is afraid I won't be what she expected and she'll be disappointed, but I think that's just my insecurity and the fact that I think she's so great.
The kids are doing great. Emily and Libby want to play outside with the neighborhood kids alllll the time, haha. There's a little wooded area near the playground that they love because there are fruit trees and they can do a little exploring. School doesn't start till September 2 and I need to get on top of getting birth certificates and vaccine exemptions which I definitely need to do. I'm excited that they have had such a nice long summer vacation. They love having their own rooms again, and we have lots of decorating plans! Libby wants her room painted purple, and we're going to make Emily's room all polka dots.
Jack has gotten used to the stairs. When he comes down, he kind of slides down on his belly. It's hilarious. He fell down them once, but he was alright. I kind of think that I fall down the stairs sometimes, too. It's just part of having stairs. He's more careful now.

Someday I will post pictures of the house. I thank you all for reading, and I will do my best to get caught up on all your blogs soon. I miss you!

Creamy Chicken Enchiladas

This is so good. It's adapted from a recipe in Better Homes & Gardens, and today I just layered it like a lasagna because I forgot to heat up the tortillas and they were stiff and cracked. It was sooo good, and my kids loved it! (Which is super rare.)

4 boneless, skinless chicken breasts
1/2-1 chopped onion
3 good-sized garlic cloves
a few tbsp. EVOO
1 bell pepper, chopped
3 oz cream cheese, softened
1 tbsp. milk
a little bit of ground cumin
a couple handfuls of fresh spinach, chopped
corn tortillas
1 can cream of chicken soup
1 8-ounce carton of sour cream
1 cup milk
shredded "fiesta" cheese
salt and pepper to taste

Chop the chicken and toss with salt, pepper, and a tiny bit of cumin (a little goes a very long way), then cook over medium to medium-high heat along with the onion, garlic, and bell pepper.
Meanwhile, stir together the cream cheese and 1 tbsp milk with about a 1/4 tsp. cumin. Then add the chicken and veggies. For traditional enchiladas, warm the tortillas roll up about 3 tsp. of the filling mixture in each, and place seam down in a greased baking dish. For the layered kind, cut the tortillas in half and layer like a lasagna. Then, for the sauce, combine the soup, milk, and sour cream in a bowl and pour over the top. Cover the pan with foil and bake in a 350* oven for 30-35 minutes, then remove and cover the top with cheese, then return the pan to the oven to melt the cheese for a few minutes. You can serve with shredded lettuce and chopped tomatoes on top, I bet that'd be really good.

The Plan.

May 21--Em's last day of school.
May 22--Daddy flies in from Houston.
May 23-27--Pack up the POD and clean up the house.
May 28--Hop in the car and head to southern Indiana to visit my sister.
June 1--Head to Campbell.
June 2 (maybe 3)--Head to Texas.
June 15--AARON!!!
June 21--Head to Washington.
June 27--Arrive in Washington.
June 30--Our 9th anniversary.
July 3--Lilith Fair.


Wow, this summer's going to leave me exhausted.

My Walls are Bare and White.

Some people's home are lovely. Pretty colors on the walls. Picture frames full of their family's precious memories. Decorative plates hanging around, big initials of their last names behind the TV, centerpieces, candles, all kinds of pretty things. And every time I walk into the home of someone with a beautiful, cozy, homey home, I admire their pretty walls and pictures and candles, and wonder why in the world my home doesn't look this way? Now, anyone who knows me knows that housekeeping is not my strong suit, so maybe I should be more focused on getting the dirty clothes off the floor, but this blog is about my walls, not my floor.

I want pretty walls. I have spent my entire life renting, so maybe that has something to do with the white. The only time I remember painting was when I was pregnant with Emily. They would let you paint as long as you painted it back to white before you left. Her room was more of an alcove, and I didn't want it to be all pink. I tried a green, but Aaron said it looked like a hospital, so I picked blue. My parents and sister all helped us. We painted the whole thing blue, with big fluffy clouds, green grass, butterflies, bugs, and a big yellow sun. , I loved that room. It was beautiful, and everyone who loved my baby had contributed. We never did have to paint over it, because they decided to tear down the married student housing and no one would be renting after us. I remember the day I drove past and it had been torn down. I cried, and I tried digging through the rubble for a piece of the wall, but it was too deep. Maybe that's why I never put my heart into decorating again, because my little Betsy heart was so broken by my baby's room's destruction.

My mom never really decorated, either. The only thing I really remember hanging on the walls were these candle sconces. They were black wrought iron, with these little orange glass votive holders. I loved those things.

For spring break, I visited my friend Laura. Laura's home is beautiful! She has a big "P" on her wall behind her TV. She has end tables that match the TV stand. Her dining room is this lovely shade of green, and she has pictures everywhere; on the walls, on the tables, in the guest room. Her home is just lovely! She just has an eye for decorating. She can go to Hobby Lobby and randomly pick something out that will just go. I'm so jealous of that! I don't have the eye like she does. I'm so afraid of putting a bunch of stuff on my walls and having it be a big discordant mess. I was talking about this with my friend Tosha. We both talked about how we don't have that eye and we are jealous of those who do. But at least Tosha has some nice stuff on her walls! I have nothing, except the guidon that 5th Group gave Aaron when he left. It's great, I just need more.

I know we are moving in two months, but I figure now is as good a time to start this process as any. We are a military family. We move a lot; at least every few years. It's time to stop treating our homes as temporary, and time to make each place we live feel like what will be our home, for however long it is our home. And this is our home, for the next two months. It's time to make our home feel like a home.