Stop & Smell

Ironic.  Either the designer of this cute little shirt had no forethought or a devilish sense of humor.  I think the flowers featured here are a Dead Horse Arum Lily, Carrion Flower, Spit-Up Creeper, and Skunk Cabbage respectively.  Nuzzle in. I dare you...

Happy Valentine's Day

For all the Valentines in our lives (you know who you are!), the Allen ladies have prepared a festive visual snack:

Happy Valentine's Day!  With love from your ladies.

MERRY (belated) CHRISTMAS!

It has been an eventful 2013, complete with location and personnel changes in Michael's endo practice, preparations for moving to a new house--including building the darn thing, having a baby (how did we ever live without this little lady?!), changes in callings at church and being welcomed by so many new friends in our new ward, trying out new sports (lacrosse? Yikes!), ballet and piano lessons out the ears, new puppy Gretel, new scars, new places visited, scores of beloved visitors, new stories to tell.  

We cherish the challenges and opportunities 2013 afforded us and hope that as a family we have shown the Lord through word and deed our gratitude for his blessings to our family: "What shall we give to the Lamb who was offered, rising the third day and shedding his love?  Tears for his mercy we'll weep at the manger, bathing the Infant come down from above."

New Year Resolution

For my 2014 resolution, I, Anna, am committing to more faithfully update this blog--not necessarily for the amusement of the occasional cyber nomad who may stumble onto my blog accidentally, like a tourist happening upon an Indonesian train wreck, and who is compelled to stay for the same reason--but because some day my children may wonder about the thoughts of their mother and the workings of the simple life in the Burg from which they hail.  Additionally, I will more faithfully write in my personal journal all the things that aren't really of general interest.  (Not to imply that this blog necessarily is.)  Okay.  I've said it.  Now I have to do it.

Christmas Wish Lists

One of the things I most look forward to during Christmas is receiving the annual Christmas wish lists provided to me kindly by my children.  They are always informative, though not usually in the way they are intended to be.  I keep them as safe as I keep the Christmas pictures.  Here are some highlights (my thoughts are in italics):

Jacob (deprived)
-ipod, cell phone, x-box with games... (and pretty much any electronic item that has thus far eluded him...)
-BYU stuff
-chocolate enrobed caramel macadamia nuts from Costco
-a novaform pillow (like Auntie Mim's)
-everything else on the list was preceded by the word "cool."

Isaac (obsessed)
-a ripstick
-a basketball
-about 8 accessories and food items for his beloved lizards, Topaz the club-footed leopard gecko, and Draco the giant bearded dragon

Clara (destined to be disappointed)
-candy (lots of it)
-gum (lots of it)
-a cornsnake or lizard (babies)
-the little filly that grandpa has
-the pony that grandpa has
-a male cat for Primrose to mate with
-a ferret
-my own room
-a maid
-a servant
-a cook
-good (non boring) books
-anything awesome

William (pretty much guaranteed to get everything on his list, since it was three items long...except maybe the neverending supply of magazines.  So never mind.  He's getting two things for Christmas.)
-red light bulb for lizards (for Snare, his leopard gecko; also on Isaac's list)
-neverending supply of KIDS magazines
-Lego set

James (now Jimmy's list was actually helpful, giving us some realistic ideas of what to get the boy for Christmas, but here were some funny ones...)
-big gumball machine
-big pocketknife
-garbage can in my room

Audrey (Clara acted as scribe, writing down exactly what Audrey said)
-a little bouncy ball
-a basket full of cars
-a michanical gumball sprouter-outer
-1/4 of an inch toy piggy
-a very beautiful skirt with pants (since I always make her wear pants under her skirts during the winter)
-a dove that will never grow up
-a kitten that will never run away or grow up
-a pet turtle that doesn't bite or swim
-a dog
-a horse
-a dog riding on the horse
-a real train
-a little door

A little door?  What do I do with this?  Good thing these kids are sweet, and any complaining is easily curbed with a casual reference to Duddykins.  What a fun time of year this is!  Good luck with your Christmas preparations, Gentle Readers!

Penelope Grace

Audrey: "Hey Momma, I knowed how you got a baby:  You dranked a lot of water a'then you went, ahhh! [scream] and it turned you fat, a'then you needed to get the baby out so you got the baby out, a'then you loved her so much!  Do you want some water, Mom?"

Introducing Penelope Grace who arrived exactly one week late on July 26, after three months of some serious... well I was going to say elephantiasis until I looked it up to verify spelling and saw exactly what it is.  Uh, that is not what I had.  ...Who arrived after three months of some seriously swollen ankles.  Audrey is right, we love her very much and our lives are forever changed.

 

One Monday night shortly after Penelope's birth, we had a family home evening about happiness.  During the lesson I recommended that if ever one of us is sad and can't shake ourselves out of it, simply look at Pippi's feet and we'll be magically cured of the blues.  A week or so later James burst into my room, tears streaming.  He had been injured and needed some comfort.  I reached out to hug him, but he ignored me and went straight to Pip.  He rummaged around in the blankets for a second then fished out a chubby pink foot.  He watched it intently for a few moments as the tiny toes fluttered and curled.  Slowly a smile broke across his face. He wiped his eyes and laughed.  Then he covered her foot again, kissed her head and softly said, "Thank you, Baby."  Then he walked out of the room and closed the door.  

Thus is the magic and blessing of a baby.

James and the Giant Fund Run

I arrived just in time to cheer on the children in their annual fund run, and to pass out water to the little pink faces with sweaty hair plastered to foreheads and necks, beaming with pride in their varied performances.  The track they used is roughly pounded out of a mild hillside behind the school, and a few were still running.  James was one of them.  As he rounded the last stretch the bells went off, signalling the end of their time.  Everyone was screaming Jimmy's name, and adults were patting me on the back and commenting on his remarkable performance. 

"Wow, Jims," I said, benignly patting him on the shoulder, "looks like you did a great job!"
"Thanks, Mom. I could have kept going, but they made me stop because of the bell."
Then one of the regular Fund Run volunteers approached me: "Is James your son? Did you know he ran over six laps in the 15 minutes given to the kindergarteners!" 
"Yeah, so I heard.  That's great!"
"Do you know how far a lap is?  1/3 mile.  Your son (who is one of the youngest in the school having a mid-August birthday) ran over two miles on a hilly gravel path in 15 minutes in 90 degree weather without stopping.  That hasn't happened as long as I've been here.  I bet it's a school record!"

A fund run best it was indeed.  The principle himself announced it over the loud speaker at the end of the day, and his class earned a pizza party because of it, making James the local celebrity for the week.  Clara and Will maximized on his fame, reminding everybody they saw that James Allen, yeah, that's our little brother.  Ever the entrepreneur, Clara even offered to sell his signature.  A book was published about him, written by the illustrious Kathryn Taggart, his doting cousin.  And sweet shy James just looked forward to everybody forgetting all about it (though he is secretly excited for next year's fund run so he can beat his record...).

Finally!  A child that looks remotely like me!

 

I suspect it's just the hair.

It Was the Thought That Counted

While visiting the local hardware store for various replacement keys, picture hangers and other whatnots, my youngest four kids began a quest for the largest nail they could find.  After about 20 minutes I was finished with my business and called to them that it was time to head out.  Four beaming children met me at the door, followed by an elderly employee, with the exciting news that this nice man said they could take this home with them!

"Oh!  How generous of you!"
"Oh, it's nothing ma'am.  I know just how kids are, and I know what sorts of things they like to tinker with.  They can just have these to play with or if they want to build something.  It's nothin'.  You just have yourself a good day."

Feeling bolstered by this gentleman's kindness I walked my kids to the car, buckled them in and had a look...

"...I know how kids are...they can have these to play with...?"  Nice.

And play they did:  Before we reached home we had four pokes, two people crying, one bleeding slightly, another throwing a tantrum because she wanted some nails to play with and couldn't reach.  Half the box was dumped in the back seat (consequently, one of the pokes was in the beezer).  And in an especially bright display one child, with nails wedged between each fisted knuckle, had them pointed straight at his eye wondering aloud what would happen if we hit a big bump with these so close to his face.

"...I know how kids are..." rang in my mind as I confiscated the whole lot!

Taiwan, part 1

 In August Michael and I decided to jump on a great opportunity to tag along with my big younger brothers on a trip.  They were headed back to their second home to visit their dear friends from their missions (Pietr served in the northern Taiwan mission, Adam in the southern.  They were there at the same time and I believe they consider that a rare blessing.)  We thought it was high time to let Isaac see life outside our little garden village, so we brought him with.  Here the boys are looking peppy while we waited in Portland for our flight.

 Happy reunion with Adam, who was waiting for us in Taipei.  He and Pietr had just come from an exciting stay in Beijing where, being without hotel accommodations and finding the weather agreeable, they decided to smuggle a night's sleep in Tiananmen Square.  Here they dodged security and monstrous mosquitoes and got a great story to tell in exchange.  Let's just say, these boys needed a big sister around to keep them in line...

From Taipei we took a bus then rail to Zhanghua, where our adventures began....

Renting scooters, taking lives into own hands.  Isaac, confused and enamored by the Chinese soap opera and the talking cockatiel respectively.

Lost in translation...

Variety of Taiwanese breads we feasted on for breakfasts with the Chen family, who kindly hosted us the first few days.  Other breakfast favorites were warm soy milk, yellow watermelon, fresh guava, asian pears, sugarcane from the garden, and dumplings stuffed with bamboo and pork sausage.

Tai Chi in the park.  This is a regular and favorite form of relaxation and exercise.  I know I enjoyed it!

At the end of a hike uphill on a nature trail (where we saw what Isaac believed to be an indigenous viper eating a toad) we came to the largest Buddah on the island.  There was a beautiful view of the city where Adam spent a lot of time on his mission.  We spent the first week touring his area, the second week on Pietr's area (right).

Michael appreciating the spectacular architecture in this particular temple complex.

Outside the complex were native Taiwanese street vendors selling various curiosities.  Isaac stared at these dried squid for a moment before pulling out a few quay to purchase one.  We ate the whole thing.  It was gross.

 In order of size: goose eggs, chicken eggs, quail eggs, snails.  We saw this selection everywhere, including in every 7-11, though the eggs were usually peeled and floating in a mysterious brown liquid.  These vendors were native Taiwanese aborigines who speak Taiwanese (vs. Mandarin).  It is rare for outsiders to know this language, but Adam learned it while serving in the rural mountains in the south, and became pretty good at it.  He taught us, especially Isaac, some phrases.  People were tickled everywhere we went to see a little white American boy ordering food or wishing a pleasant day in a language that is all but extinct.

At one point, nature called.  So I excused myself to follow the pink signs with strange characters on them until I came to a nicely tiled room.  I went into a stall and found this.  If I hadn't seen other women in there I would have thought I had gotten the signs wrong.  (Unfortunately, I did that a couple times too...)

I found my brothers and asked them, "What in the world is it?  And how in the world do I use it?"  They looked at each other and said, "Did you warn her about the squatters?"  "No, didn't you?"  Then they handed me some tissues (if you don't bring it with you, you're stuck) and told me that I've been going camping my whole life.  Figure it out.

Lunch was a feast, as was almost every meal we ate.  No Chinese restaurant could have prepared us for the food we would be served that whole two weeks, but it was almost always delicious and Isaac was fearless and dug in with two chopsticks no matter what it was!

Gotta go.  More soon to come...

Happy Valentine's to My Very Own Cowboy

Merry Christmas from the Allens

 A very merry Christmas to all our beloved friends and family!

The gentle reader may want to click on this lovely original painting by Van Gallen to see it in a larger size (don't be creeped by the cherub on the far left--he's sneaky, but mostly harmless).

Mother/Daughter Bonding

Apparently, Audrey and I went on a date.  Apparently, I wore "leddle bear ears," so she said, and her eyelashes were "very beautiful!"...at least on her one good eye....  Mine were pretty too.  Apparently, I have three legs and a spider friend that Dad would hate, because everybody knows Dad HATES spiders.  And, apparently Audrey figured out how to spell Anna in her spare time (top left corner), and decided her's was spelled almost the same (tucked below her magenta body, bottom right).

Now Audrey is not much beyond her three-yr mark, and her powers of deduction never cease to amaze me.  What a treasure and delight her company always is, even when she makes me wear little bear ears.

True or False? You Be the Judge

Let's play a little game:  Guess which of the following articles are true or false.  You can find the answers in the comment section.

1. Coos Bay, OR.  Terry Vance Garner, 69, never returned from feeding his hogs last Wednesday, prompting a family member to check on him about 2:30 p.m. and call authorities.  “First time I’ve had a situation like this,” said Paul Frasier, Coos County district attorney. “Outside of television and reading Hannibal Lecter novels, I’ve never heard of anything like this.  They first found his dentures and his hat, a package of cigarettes, his pocket knife. Then they started collecting his pieces of clothing,” Frasier said. “We’ve heard that one [of the hogs] might have been aggressive.”  The Oregon farmer who went to bring his hogs breakfast instead became the meal himself.

2.  The Washington Times reports that the mystery of President Obama's pallid performance during the last presidential debate has been solved: The high elevation of Denver, CO, to which the president had not yet acclimated, was affecting his performance and "diminished his capacity to perform complex mental tasks."  He is requesting that the next debate be held at a comfortable venue in Death Valley, CA.

3.  Local police beat:  10:26am--Sheep with plastic bag stuck on its head running around pasture and scaring the other sheep near Interstate 5 milepost 152.

4.  Local police beat:  1am--In the 600 block of Mill St., man arrested for spraying his wife with pepper spray after she allegedly got into his "personal zone."  Wife treated at the scene.

5.  The Allenburg Times:  Following Audrey's diagnosis, she was being treated per doctors' orders.  After leaving her for the night with straightjacket firmly in place in accordance with manufacturers instructions, she escaped and is now at large in the neighborhood.

 6.  Local police beat:  12:45am--A man called police to say he believes an alligator was eating his chickens in the 200 block of Jiggs Lane.  The man said he bought a foot-long alligator and flushed it down the toilet earlier this year.  He told a dispatcher he thinks the animal is living in his septic system.

For Beppy

Okay Bep,here are the color shots:

...Or with Enos, the praying mantis (get it?), if you prefer...

Hope these will work, Bev.  Thanks for doing this for Pug.  He's going to love it.  DF, A

Scripture Vocab

Sweet and pious Willy sat by me reading his scriptures during the sacrament meeting a few weeks ago.  Leaning toward me he whispered, "Mom, what does this say?"
"Concubine."
"What is that?"
"Let's talk about it later."
More reading.  "Mom, what does this say?"
"Harlot."
"What's that?"
"Later."
More reading.  "Mom, what does this say?"
"Abomination.  Later."
"Mom, what is this one?"
"Whoredom.  Will, let's stop reading for now."

Grandma was correct when she said it is a great tragedy that William should grow up.  By the way, if this cucumber slice was found at the scene of a crime, whose dental records do you think it would match?

Brer Momma and the Tar Baby (excerpt)

     Brer Momma said to Brer Audrey, "You must finish your peas."
     "Well, well, what have we here?" Brer Audrey thought, grinning an evil grin.
     Brer Momma gulped. She knew Brer Audrey didn't want to finish. She did some fast thinking while Brer Audrey rolled about on the bench, fussin' herself sick over them peas.
     "I've got you this time, Brer Momma," said Brer Audrey, jumping up and shaking off the food. "You've sassed me for the very last time. Now I wonder what I should do with you?"
     Brer Momma's eyes got very large. "Oh please Brer Audrey, whatever you do, please don't lie down and don't be quiet!"
     "Maybe I should kick and scream," mused Brer Audrey. "No, that's too much trouble. Maybe I'll throw something instead."
     "Kick!  Scream yo'self silly!  Do whatever you please," said Brer Momma. "Only please, Brer Audrey, please don't lie down and be silent like you's dead."
     "If I'm going to throw something, I'll get a swat," said Brer Audrey. "And I don't want a swat. But cryin' is handy, so maybe I'll do that instead."
     "Throw somethin'! Cry! Do whatever you please," said Brer Momma. "Only please, Brer Audrey, please don't act like you is dead."
     "Silent like I's dead, eh?" said Brer Audrey. "What a wonderful idea! Your heart'll be torn into little pieces!"
     So Brer Audrey swung herself around and around and then flung herself (gently) down onto the floor. Brer Momma let out such a scream as she fell that all of Brer Audrey's fur stood straight up.  Brer Audrey fell onto that floor with a crash and a little thump. Then there was silence.
 

Brer Momma cocked one ear toward the floor, listening. But she heard nothing. Brer Audrey cocked her ear toward the table, listening for Brer Momma's whimpers of pain. She heard nothing.  Then Brer Audrey heard someone calling her name. She turned around slowly and looked up with one little eye. Brer Momma was sitting on a bench enjoying her dinner and looking smug.

She laid there for a good 15 minutes as if dead, utterly unresponsive to anything.  Once she didn't want to get up for the morning, but we had to be somewhere.  I picked her up, changed her clothes and diaper, propped her up and fixed her hair, shoes on, snacks in a bag hooked onto her chubby little arm, and buckled in her car seat before she would open her eyes.  At that point I whispered the word yogurt into her ear and she suddenly came to life, "Oh yes!  That sounds nice, Mommy!"  This girl has some grit!  Frankly, I'm enjoying this tantrum phase.  My only question:  How can I make it last?... 

Obituaries

Henredon Sofa dies at age 45-ish

Today an era in the Mikkelsen family ended:  The old sofa, which was the obvious focal point of every decorating scheme, was taken to its final resting place at the local dump having lived a long and fulfilling life.

It began its life stylishly in a prominent law office in Portland, Oregon where it dwelled happily for several years.  By '83, though still in its prime, it was thought to be outdated and out-lived.  A humble junior attorney recognized its value and rescued it from certain death, bringing it home to his own family room.  And it lived there as the veritable heart--or maybe a ventricle--of their home (and it matched nicely with the cinnamon carpet!).  It was on this sofa that many of their children learned to read, where gripping Little House on the Prairie episodes were absorbed, where guinea pigs romped with their tenders.

From house to house this sofa moved until the first of their 10 children was married.  The daughter and her new husband were bequeathed the sofa as a gift to furnish their first little home.  It became an integral fixture once again.  It served as a couch a time or two for the husband when the bed just wasn't big enough for the both of them, and there the young mother often nestled with her nursing babes in the twilight hours. Grandchildren learned to read there, and the little sofa, having gone full circle was showing signs of wear.  But what is a little wear when it is the wear of dear friends bouncing up and down when they've guessed the right answer in a rousing game of charades, or a faint stain from "Grandma, put your feet up and I'll bring you something warm to drink"?

But as with all living things, time catches up and nature inevitably takes its course.  Exposed upholstery nails began scratching innocent arms, and stray springs started poking.  Ever widening tears swallowed errant treasures causing angst and tears as little blind hands explored the gastric workings of the sofa in attempted reclamation.  Finally, the decision was made that practicality must at some point override sentiment.  It was time to bury our dead.  The sofa has left no genetic legacy that we know of, only that legacy of service and comfort which lives in our grateful hearts.

Knock Before Entering

An effective and necessary notice was posted on the bathroom door this morning, lest we forget the dangers of neglecting our manners.

Glory Bee

Jacob has hatched a plan to earn a little college and mission dough.  Local honey, wax and pollen are a valuable commodity around here.  And the lady nominated to head the project is called is Victoria...

Supposedly, Victoria is in here somewhere, but we hadn't painted the yellow dot on her thorax yet, and beats me to point her out!

You are looking at a transplanted wild hive rescued from a residential neighborhood.  This is shortly before we moved the hive out to the homestead.