As evidenced by how many times I find myself forking out the big bucks to the library for overdue fines, I check out a lot of library books for my kids. We own a ton of kids' books, of course, but you can only re-read them so many times before feeling slightly nauseous at the thought of revisiting them one more time. The library provides much-needed variety. Taking my kids to the library is one of my favorite parts of being a parent, both because I love that they're excited to visit places with books and because it reminds me of my own childhood pleasures. Visiting the library is tied up with memories of my dad, who's also a voracious reader (well, who was; losing his ability to find escape and solace in books is one of the saddest parts of his disease to me) (something my sister Becky wrote a contest-winning essay about). It also helps me remember the long, carefree hours I used to have as a child, entire afternoons dedicated to reading. But the library is a topic for another day; what I wanted to write about is our current favorite library book.

Kaleb loves anything that has to do with animals, so when I spotted Wild About Books on the shelf, I crossed my fingers that it wouldn't be too text-heavy. A quick flip through the pages showed that the word count was nearly perfect. So I dumped it into our pile in the basket underneath the stroller and we took it home. The premise of the book: a librarian takes her bookmobile to the zoo by accident, and then starts teaching the animals to read. The story is told in rhyme, which has the potential to bug me (forced rhymes are a pet peeve of mine), but it's never annoying or forced. Just funny. Kaleb's favorite page---and mine---is the one about the bugs at the insect zoo. Inspired by all their reading, they take up writing haiku (which is then critiqued by the scorpion). The best haiku is the dung beetle's: "Roll a ball of dung---/Any kind of poo will do---Baby beetle bed." ("Stinks," declares the scorpion.)

I think that writers of children's books have an obligation both to the children and to the parents. At least, if they want me to read their books to my kids, they've got to catch my interest, too. Wild About Books does just that---I find myself laughing along with Kaleb, for entirely different reasons (the subtext of suggestion about reading and writing and learning to read is hilarious to me). He's engaged and I'm engaged, all snuggled up in my unmade bed. A perfect reading experience!

Another perk of the library: it helps me know what books I want to buy, and this one is now in my Amazon cart. It's on my to-do list today to take the books back to the library (we've had this one for five weeks now, proof positive that I'll be handing over a bit of change to the librarian). Maybe you could check it out next!

One of those blog posts that reads more like a journal entry than anything else. (Meaning: no conclusion or analysis or Deep Thoughts. Just the facts.) Navel-gazing at its finest!

• As I know you were all sitting on the edge of your seat, wondering how my pies turned out, I'll write about them first. OK, can I just ask: when did apples get so expensive? How did I manage to spend $13.27 ON APPLES? Anyway. The pies turned out fabulous, if I do say so myself. In fact, I could go so far as to say that I now can confidently make a pie crust. Yay me!
• OK, this is funny. Maybe. I had to buy some new cookie sheets (well, technically they're called jelly roll pans, I guess, but they're what i use for cookie sheets) because I only have three, and when you're making six dozen rolls, three sheets don't quite work. Usually I borrow my sister Suzette's, but she couldn't find her extra ones. The package I bought at Costco had two big sheets and two smaller ones. The smaller ones were perfect to bake those pies on. Except---I left them on the sheets to carry them into my SIL's house (where we ate), and as I was being overly-ambitious over what I could carry, one of the pies started sliding...and I grabbed it with my other hand (after dropping the bag I was carrying). Hands and pies don't really mix. So one of my beautiful, totally-overly-stressed-about apple pies was broken and not very pretty. It still tasted good, though! ;)
• Haley stayed up late with me on Thanksgiving Eve to help me with the rolls. It was one of my most pleasant Thanksgiving Eves ever. We chatted and laughed and I walked her through all the dough-making steps while I made the pies. I swear this year's rolls were the best I've ever had, sweetened no doubt by my sweet daughter's presence. Here's a photo of our hard work, just before we loaded it into the van to drive to SLC (forgive this hastily taken picture's poor lighting and way-too-soft focus; DH was bellowing about leaving and something about ridiculous pictures...)

• On Thanksgiving morning, when I was getting Kaleb dressed to leave, he said "Mom, no church, Momma, no church!" to which I replied "we're not going to church, sweetheart. We're going to Aunt Melissa's for Thanksgiving." He thought for a second and then said, "Oh, OK. That's cool." If you could have heard the tone of voice he used---all grown up---you'd know why I keep on giggling about this.
• I made WAY TOO MUCH green bean casserole. Everyone took some home and I still had tons left over. Oh well---too much is always better than not enough, isn't it?
• I always find it interesting to observe stuff when we get together with Kendell's side of the family. There is much more clashing of personal cultures than there is in my side of the family (not that we're not all crazy in different ways), I think because in Kendell's family, it's not all sisters, but sisters AND sisters-in-law fixing the meal. There are definitely different ways of looking at food expectations among us. Some of the differences are good; some cause quite a bit of tension and frustration.
• The Thanksgiving meal was excellent. Usually I try to have a little bit of everything, but this year I couldn't get enough of that green bean casserole and of my mother-in-law's excellent stuffing.
• When the meal was ready and the kids came barreling up the stairs, Jake caught one look at the enormous bowl of rolls and yelled "YES! My mom's rolls! My mom makes the best rolls!" and maybe that was the best moment of the day for me: feeling appreciated, I guess, and feeling that unique mother-son bond. (It's no coincidence that food makes it stronger!)
• We had the kids eat first (since it generally takes them about 10 minutes to be full, and this worked better with my SIL's dining area). We had the kids say what they were thankful for, before they ate; Haley was thankful for sales at the mall (LOL!), Nathan was grateful for books (that's my boy!) and Jake was grateful for food. In fact, he left the table twice to come into the kitchen, where I was whipping cream, and tell me how much he liked the meal.
• Limeade mixed with cherry 7-up? DELICIOUSLY tart drink!
• Haley spent the night with her cousin Lexie, who is only 18 months younger than her. The boys were highly bugged that they couldn't have a sleep-over, too. Nathan fell asleep on the ride home, but Jake's annoyance was tempered by the fact that he got to turn the Christmas lights on (the ones on the house) first.
• I got up at 4:30 the next morning to be at Toys R Us by 5:00. While I, too, was amazed at the length of the line (I've got to TRU on Black Friday for the past eight years or so, and I've never seen it as long as it was), I did get fairly tired of the lady in line behind me, who commented to her friend about the length of the line every two minutes or so. When I got there and saw the long line I was sure I wouldn't get what I came for (Magnetix), there were still about 10 or so left once I managed to get in. This was my smallest Toys R Us Black Friday purchase ever, which makes me realize yet again how quickly my kids are growing. (Well, it was also small because I bought 99% of Kaleb's Christmas gifts in October when all the Thomas stuff was on sale. But still.)
• I was out of Toys R Us by 6:15, which I thought left me plenty of time to rush over to Joann. But I had seriously underestimated the shopping power of quilters when there is $1.00-a-yard flannel on sale. Twenty minutes after the doors were opened and the shelves were CLEANED OUT. Plus there were at least 100 people in front of me at the cutting table. People were buying the flannel by the bolt. And I saw three women who I KNOW work in other fabric stores, buying 50-75 bolts of flannel, I'm sure to resell in their store. Which annoys me. I did manage to buy some other door busters at Joann but I'm still bugged I didn't get any flannel.
• On Saturday I took the kids to see Enchanted. I think it was good, but I didn't really get to focus much on the movie, as Kaleb was not involved in it at all, and wanted to walk up and down the steps in the theater (bugging nearly everyone there) instead of sitting down and watching the movie. He did like the part at the end with the scary dragon.
• Joann frustration aside, Haley and I made it to another fabric store so she could pick out some flannel. For a church project, she's going to learn how to sew, so I'm going to teach her how to make a rag quilt. I tried to teach her a little bit about matching/coordinating colors and patterns, and she put together two different options. She ended up going with the blue-and-yellow combo that she put together all buy herself, and I think it will turn out really well!

See, told you: navel gazing. Still, I think it's important to get all the little details down. So here's the challenge part: before tomorrow is over, write a list of some of your favorite parts of the holiday weekend, before you forget them!

Now I'm going to continue to try and talk myself out of finishing that last bit of pie...

Dough for rolls is rising in the fridge. Pies are baked and cooling. Last load of laundry is twirling in the dryer. I'm tired (it's almost 2:00 a.m.) but mostly ready for Thanksgiving. And I'm sharing one of my favorite poems because I think it fits the Thanksgiving feeling. I hope you have a great one!

Otherwise

Jane Kenyon

I got out of bed
on two strong legs.
It might have been
otherwise. I ate
cereal, sweet
milk, ripe, flawless
peach. It might
have been otherwise.
I took the dog uphill
to the birch wood.
All morning I did
the work I love.

At noon I lay down
with my mate. It might
have been otherwise.
We ate dinner together
at a table with silver
candlesticks. It might
have been otherwise.
I slept in a bed
in a room with paintings
on the walls, and
planned another day
just like this day.
But one day, I know,
it will be otherwise.

I'm certain that everyone is feeling as frantically busy as I do right now...but I need a few minutes of downtime RIGHT NOW, so I'm blogging, despite feeling frantic. A few randomalities:

1. Don't fool yourself. Even though you've put the bottle of fabric softener on the top of your dryer for the past 2+ years, eventually the wild spinning of the washing machine will knock it off. Especially if it's a brand new container. There'll be fabric softener everywhere (I kept thinking, cleaning it up, of a saying my mom uses: from hell to breakfast. I'm not sure why those two things work in this metaphor, but they do) and you'll use almost an entire roll of paper towels cleaning it up. And you'll have to re-wash everything clean that was waiting to be folded. Try to giggle rather than have a mental breakdown if this happens to you.
2. Cream of wheat, with fresh raspberries and cream, makes everything feel better. Even if you smell like Snuggle.
3. I need to stop obsessing over the Thanksgiving pies. I've started dreaming apple pies. Why am I so weird? I think I'll be making them tonight instead of in the morning, just so I can get a good night's sleep.
4. Ridiculously, geekily excited about this announcement: Kristen Stewart to play Bella in Twilight (the movie). I think she is a PERFECT Bella. Not traditionally gorgeous but pretty in her own way, and just...perfect. I've loved her since I saw Speak (a movie I liked almost as much as the novel).
5. We had Nathan's grandmas-and-grandpas birthday dinner on Sunday night. I made the best carrot cake I've ever made, even if it was disconcerting to have blue cream-cheese frosting. After trying several recipes from friends, the one I used on Sunday was the best---right from the Betty Crocker cookbook. So much for trying to be fancy!
6. I did the official last lawn mow on Monday. Mostly it was vacuuming up leaves and getting covered in leaf dust. I can't believe how dusty it was! I'm ready for some snow!
7. Don't let me forget: I need to stop by my sister Suzette's house to get her enormous casserole dish. (The kind they use at buffets.) I'm also in charge of green bean casserole tomorrow, and it'll be much easier to use her big pan!
8. Do Reese's PB cups count as nutrition? 'Cause that's what I've eaten today: one peanut butter cup. I'm not usually this disciplined! ;)
9. I was feeling all proud of myself last night for not needing to go to the grocery store today. Then I reviewed my list this morning and realized I forgot: plastic cups, sparkling cider, lemons, and apples. Who forgets to buy apples when she's making apple pie? Just me! So, I'm off to the grocery store on the worst day in the world to grocery shop.

I hope you have a fabulous Thanksgiving! Cross your fingers that my pies are appropriately flaky & delicious!

During my twenties and part of my thirties, I played bunco once a month. I think it was especially important during the years when all my Bigs were little together---I desperately needed an out back then. But, without fail, nearly every time Bunco night came up, something difficult would happen. Clogged toilet, sick kids, Kendell stuck at work, some other kind of emergency. It seemed like life always made it difficult to get away.

I've not been in a bunco group now for almost three and a half years.  Last night, though, my sister-in-law, Cindy, needed a sub for her bunco group, so I went with her. And, like always, life made it difficult: my garbage disposal splattered a big, disgusting mess underneath my kitchen sink, and then started leaking. Kendell was working late, so there I was, two hours before needing to leave, cleaning out the goop underneath my sink. I learned that you can burn your hands with bleach, which is very special. Our good friend, James, came and replaced it for us (THAT is the definition of a good friend, don't you think? Willing to help you with your plumbing projects?) and I managed to get out of the house only ten or fifteen minutes late.

While I was driving home, I found myself thinking about the Myers-Briggs personality test I'd taken earlier this week on the Internet, just for fun (you can take it here if you want). My results show that I'm a INFJ personality type (introverted intuitive feeling judging), and part of the description says that I tend to pull away when in large groups because of feeling overwhelmed by thinking about motivations. Driving home, I had to laugh because that was so true last night, as it is in general. I do think about why people act the way they act (both good and bad), as well as considering why I am doing whatever I'm doing, and occasionally it's overwhelming. I think I live inside my head too much.

I remembered, last night, one of the reasons I decided to stop playing bunco---and how that decision has had a sort of ripple effect, causing me to withdraw more into myself. I hope this doesn't sound shallow or judgmental. But it got to be hard for me to be around so many women all at once. I no longer felt fed by discussions of shopping, furniture, decorating, shoes, and jeans. And I hated how I'd come home and feel discontented with my surroundings---knowing I'll probably not ever have the big, beautiful, professionally-decorated home and that my closet will never be filled with $150-a-pair jeans. I mean, I understand that on a regular basis; I live my small, budgeted life and usually I am OK with Old Navy jeans, you know? But I always felt deeply discontented after playing bunco.

Playing bunco again showed me how much I have changed over the past ten years. I used to love to shop for clothes; now, not so much. I have my standard uniform---jeans, shade Ts, and a different shirt on top---occasionally mixed up with something dressier. Part of this has to do with being a stay-at-home mom; what do I have to dress up for? A trip to Target? Part of it is, quite frankly, it's not as fun to dress my thirty-something curves as it was to dress my twenty-something non-curves. I used to think about how to make my home more beautiful; now, I've just accepted that I am not That Girl, the one with the elegant interior design. I think, when I get right down to it, I've lost my hope that things will make me a better, more interesting person.

It also makes me realize, though, that while I stopped playing bunco partly because I wanted more---I've not replaced it with anything else. I wanted friendships based on something more than girl competition, but I've not found many. Honestly, I'm not sure how to find them. Which makes me more grateful for the on-line friendships I've formed, which by their nature can't really be based on appearances or possessions. Just on words. So, I wanted to say thank you to everyone who reads my blog, who writes a blog I read, who I've emailed back and forth, who have encouraged me when I felt alone. It's a cliche to say that you don't know how your actions will impact people---but it's also true. A thoughtful comment or an interesting entry often feeds me in a way I need more than you might know.

So---consider yourself thanked!

Back in April or May, when my niece Kayci told me she was expecting a new baby (her second), I knew immediately and without question that she'd be having a boy. When I talked to my sister Suzette (Kayci's mom) about the baby, I referred to the baby as a "him" without even thinking about it. I'm not sure how I knew (although, it seems like I fairly often KNOW what someone is having), but I was certain. And I was right. That KNOWING about his gender was really the only link I had with little Glenn, since Kayci lives in Idaho and we don't get to see her very often. The few times I did see her pregnant, I didn't put my hand on her belly to feel him move (wish I would have). I did shop for some fabric for a baby quilt for him, and I sent her some of my boy baby clothes (which, if you remember how much I love baby clothes, you'll know was excruciating), but my connections to him as an individual were just forming.

So maybe it's surprising that, when Suzette called me three weeks ago to tell me that little Glenn had died, I was thoroughly devastated. That day, I kept breaking down in tears, imagining Kayci having to go through labor and delivery, and how hard it would be to see him, and the even-harder moment of letting go. Why so many tears for a baby I had never held, whose newborn smell I'd never sniffed? Much of the sadness is, of course, for the lost opportunities, and for knowing how hard it would be for Kayci and her husband Jeff. For the way they have that first year ahead of them and how, at every milestone, they'll find themselves thinking about Glenn and wishing he could have stayed with them. For her having to go back home and do something with his baby things (she was only three weeks away from her due date). For knowing how the "what if" thoughts would creep in, and the anguish, and maybe some anger. For that whole difficult, unimaginable process.

But the sadness was also for myself. I think many women have experienced that particular brand of grief, for a never-to-see-him-grow-up baby. Miscarriage or stillbirths or infertility or choices or simply lost chances; it is, whatever its cause, a specific and haunting sort of sadness. For me, the end of October is full of that tenderheartedness anyway (for an experience I don't want to blog about). The "might have beens" and "should have dones," the wondering "what if?" is a constant thing; it changes you. Even though you do move on.

As I watched Kayci at the funeral, I found myself thinking about the nature of that grief. The amazing thing is that the grief starts to fade. That is also the horrible thing. Because as time passes, with all the other experiences your life brings, the grief begins to be the only thing that ties you to the little person you lost. Slowly, in fits and spurts, you start to live your life without its constant presence. At first you actually feel guilty, the first time you don't feel it. Eventually, feeling it is a strangely good thing, because it reminds you that you've not forgotten.

So I was grateful I got to go to the funeral, because it happened to fall on the anniversary of my "never-to-see-him-grow-up baby." Standing in front of that tiny little casket at the cemetery, I found myself again in the presence of my own, personal grief and, strange as it sounds, I welcomed it because it helped me remember everything, helped me know that I really did have that experience.

Maybe it is the same for everyone. Maybe that is a universal experience at a funeral, the combination of sadness for the lost person and for the people who are left, along with reliving your own personal grief. Maybe I am simply selfish. But in a way, it is comforting, too, to know that whatever type of grief you've had in your life, there are people around you, hanging their heads with tears dripping off their noses. The comfort of not being alone in your sadness. I hope that knowing she is not alone will give some measure of comfort to Kayci.

This year, it's our turn to eat Thanksgiving with Kendell's family. My list of stuff to bring:

• rolls (of course! I'm trying to decide if I should make two batches or three---think 72 rolls are enough for 23 people? Probably?)
• butter and jam for the rolls (I have some delicious raspberry-peach jam I froze this summer!)
• green bean casserole
• plastic cups
• 2 bottles sparkling cider
• 1 apple pie

It's that last item that's giving me fits. I consider myself to be a good cook, but honestly, pie crusts are my downfall. When I try to make crust, it generally comes out too heavy---not flaky in the least. So, when I make chicken pot pie or a fruit pie on normal days, I use Marie Callendar's pre-made, frozen crust. Somehow, though, it just doesn't feel right to me, using a pre-made pie crust on a Thanksgiving apple pie. Am I being a crust snob? I'm probably being too idealistic. It's just a pie. Still, I decided I'll make some practice pies, to get my crust-making skills up to snuff.

So, last night, along with Chris's rosemary chicken and rice pilaf (which was, Nathan declared, "one of the best meals you've ever made, Mom!" huge praise from Nathan, who's right now embroiled in a super-picky phase) I made an apple pie with homemade crust. Here are the recipes:

Tricky-yet-Deliciously-Flaky-if-You-Get-It-Right Pie Crust

1 egg
1 T vinegar
2 1/2 cups flour
1 cup shortening
1 tsp salt
2-3 T cold ice water

In a small bowl, beat the egg well. Add the vinegar, then beat again. Mix the flour and salt together in a larger bowl. Cut in the shortening. Stir in the egg mix; add enough water to make the dough stick. Makes enough dough for two crusts.

Apple Pie Filling

7 tart apples (I use a mix of Granny Smith and Fuji, because they're tart and they stay crispy; mushy apples aren't my thing)
juice of one lemon
1 cup sugar
3 T flour
1 tsp cinnamon
dash nutmeg
dash allspice
dash ground cloves
dash ground ginger
dash salt
2 T cold (or frozen) butter

Peel, core, and slice apples. (The apple peeler/corer/slicer thing that Pampered Chef sells is invaluable for this task! It takes about three minutes to do all the apples this way; a huge bonus is you're left with all those long strings of apple peel, which my children think are the most delicious things EVER.) Sprinkle the apples with the lemon juice. Mix all the dry ingredients in a separate bowl, then pour over the apples. Toss until it's all combined. Pour apples into a pie pan lined with bottom crust. Cut the butter into small pieces and sprinkle over the top of the apples. Place top crust over apples; seal edges and cut a pattern into the top (to allow steam to escape). Bake at 400 for 45 minutes.

Here's what I learned from Practice Pie #1:

1. Cutting in the shortening is a fairly effective way of getting out a little frustration.
2. Roll the dough out between two sheets of Saran Wrap. (I'm not certain where that idea came from, but I think it's from an episode of the old Martha Stewart TV show.)
3. The bottom crust needs to be big enough to flop over the edge of the pie plate, not just reach to the edge.
4. I need more Saran Wrap. In a wider size.
5. Forgetting to mix the dry ingredients for the filling FIRST makes it way harder to get every apple sufficiently coated.
6. If you've forgotten to buy a lemon, a sprinkling of vinegar works just as well.
7. If you forget to put the butter on top of the apples, don't melt it and try to pour it into one of the steam vents. Really---you'll get a little bit down in the filling, but most of it will just spread out across the top of the pie.
8. Trying to cook rosemary chicken, rice pilaf, and an apple pie all at once is not a good idea. I'm all for multi-tasking but it does tend to make you forget things.
9. The filling is still delicious without butter.
10. A little bit of butter spread on top of the pie makes it beautifully golden when it's finished baking.
11. And, most importantly: maybe I can make a decent pie.

The apples were perfect. The crust was---nearly perfect. It flaked. It wasn't too heavy. A little bit flakier and it would have been perfect. I see more practice pies in my future; I think I'll make chicken pot pie on Wednesday. Maybe I'll learn enough with practice to finally get to apple-pie-utter-perfection?

When I was finishing up my senior year at BYU, I really, really wanted to do my senior seminar with my favorite-of-all professors, Dr. Howe, but as she wasn't teaching senior seminar that semester, I went with what fit into my schedule, a folklore seminar focusing on food. I'd sort of stumbled on the study of folklore earlier, because of another picked-because-it-fit-into-my-schedule class, and discovered, quite accidentally, that I love folklore. (This is why I also love scrapbooking, I think.) Anyway, studying the traditions, legends, and customs about food (what folklorists call "foodways") had a lasting impact on me, because I continue to find myself giving meaning to things in the kitchen. My project that semester focused on objects in the kitchen and how the meaning we give to them helps create a more pleasant cooking experience. For example, the bowls I serve vegetables in are two I bought when my mom and I went to Las Vegas together, way back when Nathan was a baby. Every time I get one of those bowls down, I remember shopping with my mom and also the funny way people in casinos act when they see a baby. It's just a brief flash of memory, but it is pleasant anyway.

The same thing happens to some recipes, I think. They're more than just directions written down on a card. Instead, they're sort of a history, a strata of spilled cinnamon, splattered cake batter, a few butter smears. The actual card itself holds memory. (Don't tell my mom, but I have the card she wrote her homemade salsa recipe on. Since you know it's been at least a decade since I've canned, you know how long I've had it. Is it strange that it is a little treasure to me and that, whenever I stumble across it in my recipe book I smile a little?) The stories behind or about the recipes make connections, too. My mom's recipe for pie crust, for example: she first had it at someone's baby shower a long, long time ago, and even though it's a tricky recipe, she still makes it. Or those rolls I make on Thanksgiving; when I eat one I don't just eat one, I remember learning how to make them from my mom, and I remember teaching my kids how to shape the rolls; I remember the late nights of dough-making and the one Thanksgiving eve when I left one of the dough paddles inside the dough and then spent 45 minutes trying to find it so I could make the second batch. Some recipes aren't just about the food.

So, in that spirit, here are two recipes. One is the crescent roll recipe we've had at Thanksgiving for as long as I can remember (except the year that Nathan was born---six days before Thanksgiving---and I was just too tired to do anything except for arrive at Thanksgiving). The second is my friend Sophia's pumpkin muffin recipe, which has become our little family tradition. Hope you start binding your own stories and experiences to them!

Thanksgiving Crescent Rolls

2 T yeast
1/2 cup warm water
2 cups milk
1 1/3 cubes butter
1/3 cup sugar
1 tsp salt
2 eggs
flour

In a smallish bowl, dissolve the yeast in the warm water; let rise in a warm spot. Meanwhile, scald the milk. Add the butter, sugar, and salt to the milk; let cool until lukewarm. (I put it in the fridge for about 15 minutes or so. In your mixer bowl, beat two eggs until frothy. Slowly add the cooled milk, then the yeast & water mixture. Then start adding flour. It's never an exact amount, but about six cups; you put in enough flour that it is still sticky but not sticky enough that you can't handle it. Knead for a few minutes. Butter a large bowl (I use that biggest Tupperware bowl) and the lid. Put the dough into the bowl, cover with the lid, and refrigerate overnight.

About 2-3 hours before you're ready to eat, get the dough out of the fridge. Cut it into three sections, as evenly as you can. With the first section of dough, roll out a circle. It should be about the size of a dinner plate. Pour melted butter over the circle; distribute evenly. (This is the part I call "get your fingers covered in butter"; just rub it all over the dough.) Use a pizza cutter to cut the dough the same way you would cut a pizza; into fourths, and then each forth into a third. Roll each piece into a crescent shape, starting with the large end. (If you start with the small point, they'll unroll and end up looking like sleds. Trust me on this one.) Place on a cookie sheet; cover with a towel and let rise for about 2 hours. Repeat with remaining sections of dough. Bake at 375 for 15-20 minutes. Makes 36

Pumpkin Spice Muffins
(This makes a LARGE batch. The first time I made them, Sophia told me, "this makes a large batch." I didn't really understand what she meant by "large." It's seriously big. Like serve-my-whole-neighborhood big. That's how the tradition of sharing with neighbors got started in the first place. If you don't need 89 million muffins, cut it in half or even 3/4.)

2 cups oil
2 cups brown sugar
4 cups sugar
beat together and add:
8 beaten eggs
1 1/2 T. baking soda dissolved in 1/3 cup warm water
4 cups pumpkin
7 cups flour
2 t. baking powder
2 t. salt
1 1/2 t. ginger
2 t. cloves
2 t. nutmeg
4 t. cinnamon
Mix then add:
1 cup warm water
2 cups chocolate chips
1 cup white chocolate chips

Bake @ 350 degrees for 15-20 minutes as soon as they start to brown. DO not over cook.

A few months after Kendell and I moved into our house, we were asked to become Primary teachers. Primary is the LDS church's program for kids 3-11. I ended up teaching Primary for four years, and then I was the Primary secretary for another two (the secretary does things like distribute and gather the rolls, prepare birthday cards, type up lists, etc). I had a sort of love-hate relationship with serving in Primary. On the one hand, I enjoyed being with the kids and formed some relationships with some of the kids I taught that I still think about, even though they've moved away. Being in Primary taught me many things; I think it helped me adjust to becoming a parent and provided a good platform for remaining patient during frustrating experiences with kids. Plus, I learned tons of songs; my repertoire of "real" lullabies is limited (most of them came from If You Were my Bunny, a book you must own if you have babies), by I can sing Primary songs until the cows come home or until a stubborn baby finally falls asleep. On the other hand, I often felt frustrated in Primary. I felt very isolated from the other ward members, as well as a sort of spiritual hunger. I was so busy feeding, spiritually, the little people that by the time I got around to feeding myself, everything was gone.

One of the major things the Primary does is a Sacrament meeting once a year. All year, the children learn songs and scriptures and have lessons revolving around the yearly theme, and then towards the end of the year, they share what they have learned with the entire ward. During my years working in Primary, the program was always stressful. It's a challenge getting 50-75 little kids in such a huge age range to sit still, sing, memorize their parts---and then there's the actual speaking their parts in front of all those people. I'll never forget the year I was asked to help one of the boys with special needs during the program. I was five days away from giving birth (Nathan) and enormous, and this boy kept standing up and shouting. I kept trying to hush him and to get him to sit still, aware the entire time of all those eyes focused on us. I was very, very glad to get the program over with that year!

It's been about six years since I was assigned different responsibilities and left Primary. But I've never stopped being grateful for the people who work in the Primary. And I'm probably never as grateful than I am on program Sunday, which was today. I feel very blessed to be able to sit in the congregation and listen to those sweet, childish voices sing and talk about their spirituality. I think the program this year was especially well-done. The children all seemed to know the songs, and everyone gave their parts without panic or tears. They sang one of my favorite Primary songs, "I'm Trying to be Like Jesus" and a beautiful version of "Love is Spoken Here."

But the best part, as always, was watching my own children. Nathan's part was to recite John 3:5, which he accomplished without flaw. Several times during the program, he caught my eye, grinned his toothy Nathan grin, and waved at me. (He probably would have done it more often---and ended up the obnoxious kid who waves too much at his mom---had Kaleb been holding still and/or not throwing his Sacrament-meeting toys against the metal chairs, thus letting me pay more attention to the program.) Jake was thrilled that, this year, he got a "big part." He was dressed as Joseph Smith and got to walk to the pulpit after everyone else was already up there. He spoke as Joseph Smith: "I was confused by so many churches teaching such different doctrine & each claiming to have the truth. Which one was true?" and then he read from a large, old-fashioned bible James 1:5. As I watched him do this, smiling his very proud smile, I couldn't help but hope that an image was planted that will help him know that he too can use the scriptures to find answers to his questions. Maybe the sweetest thing was that, because he was nervous, he got one word wrong when he recited the scripture: "If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and unbreaded not; and it shall be given him."

There is something about watching the Primary program that makes me feel that sadness that motherhood brings. It is a yearly milestone, reminding me each fall how quickly they will grow up, each of them. Take Haley, for example; this year, she's in Young Women instead of Primary, so it was the first time in nine years she's not taken part in the program. I always cry during this (are you surprised?) but her not being there made it even more bittersweet. I am left with the reminder that the years I have to teach them what's important are fleeting, and with the knowledge that each of my children are precious, priceless individuals, and with the goal to be a better mother.

Borrowed from my good friend Sophia's blog.

• A Thanksgiving tradition: Thanksgiving traditions are sort of hard to establish for me, because we switch off---one year we eat with my side of the family, the next year we eat with Kendell's. Each family takes a different approach to the holiday, so we don't really have traditional activities. What IS traditional, though, is for me to make the rolls. We had these rolls when I was growing up, too, on Thanksgiving; an utterly divine recipe for crescent rolls. (I'll share if anyone's interested!) My mom probably makes them better than I do, but I still enjoy making them. So, traditionally, at about 11:30 on Thanksgiving Eve, you'll find me in the kitchen, making dough. Another tradition: on Thanksgiving-Eve morning, we make an enormous batch of pumpkin-spice muffins and deliver them to the neighbors.
• A Thanksgiving memory This is strange, and I was thinking about it just yesterday: while I have very clear memories of Christmas-Eve dinners, my Thanksgiving memories are fuzzy. The clearest, sharpest memories of Thanksgiving revolve around food. I remember my mom having us break up bread into small pieces. She'd use a mix of white, wheat, and multi-grain; we'd break it into pieces and dump them all into the enormous roasting pan she had (which she still uses). We'd do this a few days before Thanksgiving so the bread would dry. Then she'd make stuffing. Another clear memory: when my mom made the crust for the pies, she'd always have a little bit extra. She'd roll this flat, sprinkle it with cinnamon and sugar, bake it, and then let us eat it. And finally, I remember my mom's apple pies. She always made (and still makes) one or two enormous apple pies. Grandpa Fuzz always ate it with cheese on top, and I remember asking him why. He let me taste it instead of answering, and that was it: from then on, I want cheese (a thin slice of extra-sharp cheddar, melted) on my apple pie.
• Five things I'm thankful for aside from friends, family and health or the obvious.  (Being specific.)

1. This season in my life. I feel like there are big changes about to happen. It is more than just the impending lay off; it seems, also, that I am preparing myself for changes, too. So I am grateful for how life is, right now, staying home with Kaleb, being able to help the Bigs get ready for school, not having to get up and get ready first thing in the morning, being in control of what I do with my time during the day, being home when the kids get home, and everything else that goes along with stay-at-home motherhood.
2. Books. How could my list not include books? I have a little poster from Mary Englebreit that says "My books are friends that never fail me." That's exactly how I feel. So much of my identity is wrapped up in reading and thinking about books, I would be lost without them.
3. Living by the mountains. This morning, our yard was wet with rain (finally, a fall storm!) and the tops of the mountains were coated in snow. The mountains in my visible landscape are like friends to me, silly as that sounds---they have personalities and ever-changing moods, they calm me when I am upset, they inspire me to continue looking upward. If we ever have to move, I will sincerely mourn the loss of my mountains.
4. Creativity. I've finally, finally started scrapbooking again, after not doing much for six months. (I feel a blog entry coming about this very topic.) I've been sewing and quilting (pics coming soon!) and working on a few essays. I know I am not, by far, the most artistic or talented person you'll ever meet. But I'm still grateful for my creative spark and for the interest it brings to my life.
5. Possessions. Yes, yes, I know we're not supposed to be all greedy and thing-hungry and focused on possessions. I really try not to be. But I think it's just downright good karma to be grateful for the things I've been lucky enough to accumulate and that make my life a little easier. So. I'm grateful for: my camera and lenses (always at the top of my list), dark chocolate (especially as I've been really & truly trying to cut out the Pepsi in my life...a girl's gotta have a little caffeine), a computer, cheese, a room to be crafty in (scrapbooking, writing, sewing all happen in this little room), my new hand mixer (because life without baked goods is just too difficult), flannel sheets, new towels, my pans and knives and my favorite spatula and all things that make cooking easier, a large-capacity washer & dryer, Oil of Olay Total Effects moisturizer, wood floors in my kitchen, the desk I inherited from my grandpa Fuzz, my new measuring tape (one of those retractable kind, and it even comes with a cord so you can hang it around your neck, thus making it much more appealing for children to wander off with but also much easier to find), patio furniture, a big front porch, my trees and flowerbeds. Life is sweet.

Feel free to use on your own blog!