Gifts of Love

Michael took Jacob, Isaac, Will and James on a father/son campout a couple of weeks ago.  William came bursting through the door the next morning and presented me with a lovingly taped up wad.

He beamed as I carefully opened the wad, and as soon as I got the the dingy little treasure at its core he hugged me and exclaimed, "Mom!  It's for you!  I knew you'd love it!"

Then he watched.  He wanted me to eat the unidentifiable thing, which had a suspicious resemblance to the diaper I'd just changed.  So I closed my eyes and ate it, counting on the fact that Michael, who was watching the whole thing with obvious enjoyment, would stop me if it was poisonous.

Michael told me later that William had gotten some dark chocolate from somebody at the campout.  He had eaten most of it, but saved the last morsel for me because he just knew how much I'd want it.  So he kept it in his hand for much of the evening throughout games and campfire, until someone brought him a kleenex to wrap it in.  He taped it up with electrical tape and put it in his pocket for the next 12 hours until he came home.  If that's not love, I don't know what is (except for maybe the eating of it!).

Harper's Bazaar August Cover

Here's a sneak peak for all you avid Bazaar readers.

(Photo courtesy of Kathryn Mikkelsen, entitled Fun With Parker. 

This one's for you, Kik.)

Dare

A bunch of boys were jumping on the trampoline at Gma's and Gpa's house.  Clara and some of her little girl cousins wanted to jump, and it was very much their turn.  In an effort to trick them out of it, the boys concocted a plan, "Clara, you girls can have your turn as soon as... as soon as you catch Grandma's rooster."  This bird is big, and this bird is strong and mean.  Nobody messes with this rooster.  Imagine their surprise when about three minutes later they were presented with:

They relinquished the trampoline for the rest of the afternoon, admitting that they were no match for Clara. 

Few people are.

Adam

7/10:  We had an amazing experience yesterday. We had the address of a man that seemed pretty cool but hadn't been picking up so we decided to go out and find his house. Turned out to be pretty far and we spent a lot of time going there. We asked this really nice guy for directions, just as he was coming out of his business and we realized that it was a fake address that didn't exist. But we started talking to the man we had asked directions from and he invited us into his office. We shared the first lesson with him and gave him a Book of Mormon. He kept saying as we finished the lesson that it is God's will we were led to him. He never works overtime on Sundays and is never there that late. He lives out of our area but I got him info and the missionaries there are getting a hold of him. We were led to someone that we weren't expecting and had an oppertunity share the gospel with him.

I hope everyone is doing well and that you are enjoying the summer. It was extremely dry the other day with a light wind and as I rode I thought to myself "wow, it feels a lot like summer back in oregon." Then we passed a man burning brush in his yard and I got a smell of the smoke and I was reminded all the more. Ha ha . Hope you are doing a lot of burning in my honor.

Elder Boose

Memorial Day Family Reunion

I don't think a girl could ask for a better family than the one I happened into.  There's not a one of them, biological or in-laws, that I don't think is the cat's pajamas (except for maybe the weirdy in the blue shirt)!

Over Memorial Day weekend all the Mikkelsens headed out to Wamic (on the southeastern side of Mt. Hood) to enjoy the lively desert life.  We raced horses--and fell off of them a few times.  (My apologies again for making Phoenix be a bad influence on everybody else's horses!)  People fished the White River, caught more than their share of lizards, snakes and bugs, ate cases of oranges, and got really dirty--with the added bonus of a water malfunction. 

The annual Memorial Day Wamic Breakfast was a treat, especially for James, who plopped onto the floor when he was full.

After Wamic the caravan headed back to Portland, where we enjoyed and celebrated the blessings of three grandbabies: Kate, Matilda and Samuel.  One of my favorite parts was when Jake and Isaac pulled off their shirts and organized wrestling matches out on the back lawn.  Another was giggling with my siblings,

(my beautiful sisters)

...and torturing our dad...

...and Mom.

We played at the park, had mean games of kickball and spud, and took turns getting pulled by Grandma in the wagon.  (Will, Audrey and James loved it!)

We celebrated Isaac's 9th birthday

by eating ice cream cones.

We enjoyed cousins (William and Grace),

and we enjoyed Grandpa (with Maxwell).

And we enjoyed ourselves!

I say we do it again next year...!

Award-winning Nasties

My long postponed postpartum (by a year, ugh) weight loss program has just been aided by these two incidents. 

First of all, I'm working up in my room when I hear a commotion outside.  I hurry downstairs and out the door just in time to hear Jake yelling, "No James, you can't have it!" and then see him yanking a large, half-full Dunkin Donuts cup out of his hands.  James screams, "But it's mine coffee!  It's mine coffee!"  I look into the cup to see what it really is James has been snacking on and find that it is indeed cold coffee, with little bugs floating in it.  I ask James where he got it and he matter-of-factly trots down the sidewalk and points to a spot on the curb.  Coffee aside, it was the sticky straw he'd been sucking on that really got me.

To Whom It May Concern:  Please don't leave your nasty old coffee where little kids might find it and think they've won the lottery.  And if you do, please brush your teeth before you start drinking it.

Secondly, I take the kids to the river to play.  It is a lovely little spot where the North and South Umpqua join.  It's a beautiful day and we're feeling well (minus my hurt feelings from having to see myself in a swimming suit).  I'm playing in the sand with Audrey when Clara runs up with a crawdad she's caught.  She's wondering why it's not trying to pinch her (lots of experience with that), determines that it's dead, and drops it next to me to dry in the sun so she can take it home and put it on her dresser to stink up the upper level of our house.  It was very stinky.  I'm distracted

with James for a moment, then turn to find Audrey munching on the tail of the crawdad.  She has pulled off the claws (one down her suit) and has little swimmerets dribbling down her chin.  I'm horrified.  I scream.  She is totally unfazed, pulls out the crawdad to examine it.  I relax.  Then she pops it back in, this time crunching enough exoskeleton to suck out some pallid, ultra-stinky flesh.  I begin to laugh hysterically and scream again, this time having the presence of mind to pull it out of her mouth and toss it back into the river.  She cries.  Then she finds a claw and is occupied with burying it in the sand.

Moral of the story:  Don't waste time laughing, just pull out the crawdad.

Wish List

Our beloved neighbor Susie asked Michael if he could make out a small list of the things I like, for my birthday.  She brought it over later to show me because she thought it was funny.  That boy's got me pegged.

Penmanship: The Delicious Grace of Moving One's Hand

William came to me during dinner preparations to ask if he had gotten it right.  "Um, yes, Will.  You did.  All 600 times."

Failing

Do you ever wonder if you're failing as a parent?  It's things like these church time doodlings that make me ask that very question.

Our Fundamental Premises

"I don't want to drive up to the pearly gates in a shiny sports car, wearing beautifully, tailored clothes, my hair expertly coiffed, and with long, perfectly manicured fingernails.  I want to drive up in a station wagon that has mud on the wheels from taking kids to scout camp.  I want to be there with a smudge of peanut butter on my shirt from making sandwiches for a sick neighbor's children.  I want to be there with a little dirt under my fingernails from helping to weed someone's garden.  I want to be there with children's sticky kisses on my cheeks and the tears of a friend on my shoulder.  I want the Lord to know I was really here and that I really lived."

— Marjorie Pay Hinckley

And for anyone interested, there was a wonderful speech given by Dallin H. Oaks, of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints to the Harvard Law School a couple of months ago, entitled Fundamental Premises of Our Faith.  I always enjoy Elder Oaks and how he organizes his thoughts.  So for those of you who may feel this way,
"Oh Mormons, Mormons, Mormons,
We haven’t got a clue
Of what you folks believe in,
Or think or drink or do.” (compliments of Conan O'Brien)
...wonder no more.  He explains the fundamental beliefs of our church, where we came from, where we stand.  Excellent read, highly recommended.

Personality Profiling

Just for fun, I conducted a little study during breakfast the other day.  The object was to categorize my kids' personalities (after all, they're too young to answer the questions on the real test properly) by asking them which was their favorite Winnie the Pooh character and why.  Here's how it went:

Clara:  "Oh, Kanga is easily my favorite.  She's so nice and she has a beautiful voice.  She's the best one."

Me:  "What about you, Will?"

William:  "Well, I think...hmmm..."

Isaac:  "I know who mine is: Tigger! 

Me:  "Why is that, Isaac?"

Isaac, in his perfect Tigger voice:  "'It was just a joke!'  Remember that, Mom, when he bounces on Rabbit and knocks him over and then when Rabbit gets mad Tigger says, 'It was just a joke!'?  That was so funny!"  [Knocks Will on the head and says in his Tigger voice that it was just a joke.  Will screeches and glares at Isaac...]

Will, visibly irritated:  "Rabbit is my favorite because he doesn't like Tigger.  He likes to do things right!"

Me:  "What about you, Jake?  Which one is your favorite?"

Jacob, thoughtfully:  "I like Owl.  He's really smart and wise and he's kind of like the leader of the 100 Acre Wood.  He sort of peers at everybody and notices things."
Me:  "Hmmm, that's pretty interesting, Jake."

Jacob:  "Why?  You're not putting this on your blog, are you?  Oh Mom, please don't make it sound like I love watching Winnie the Pooh.  I mean, it's funny and all, but let's face it, [whispering] it's kind of a little kid show."

Later during a call in to the office:

Me:  "Who's your favorite Winnie the Pooh character, Mikey?"

Michael:  "Eeyore."

Me:  "Why?"

Michael:  "Why are you asking me these questions?"

Me:  "I'm just taking a poll.  Is Eeyore really your favorite, and why?"

Michael:  "Yes, he really is because he has the deepest voice."

Me:  "Deepest voice?  Really?"

Michael:  "I don't know why I like him, and I don't have time to talk about it anymore.  See you at lunch."

Save Some Mony For the Old and Pore

What do you do when you discover that your daughter has been out on the corner with a giant homemade sign that says "Save some mony for the old and pore" (pictures of sad people included) and an upturned hat, wearing the dingiest clothes she can find?  Thank goodness we don't get too much traffic in this little neighborhood, mostly people walking their dogs who know Clara by name.  She did manage to grub up a few coins.  To my relief she later confided conspiratorially that they were her own, that she had employed the trick-or-treating tactic of leaving a few candies at the bottom of the pillowcase "so people can see that you've been trying and just haven't had much luck.  You know, then they feel sorry for you and stuff."  What do you do?

I'll be posting pictures of the demolition derby going on at our place soon.  Since buying this house we've been scrupulously saving up to add a master bathroom (one tub for 8 people gets a little tight on Sunday mornings).  We finally began....

Living Room

Though our goal with this 1940s sweetheart is to "restore" rather than "remodel," we are dramatically departing from the monochromatic theme that has prevailed. Here are before's and after's of the living room thus far.

Before, in her original vanilla glory.  And yes, old friends, that is the same couch we had in Utah, Iowa, Texas, and back to Oregon.  She came back to be buried with her loved ones.  But until that day...long live the couch!!

The process, included a good washing of everything, (several tries of) blue paint, crown and shoe moulding, installing and painting new built-ins to house books and to make TV disappear, hanging and painting french doors, pulling up carpet, laying down the new stuff, etc.  Mikey Baby and I enjoyed lots of date nights painting and fitting mouldings.  And I relished several late nights painting in solitude, listening to general conference reruns.  That sort of quiet is balm for the soul.  This whole project took a while given the time we have to devote to these types of projects, but it was worth it. 

And afterward...

Things aren't quite done, a few more battles yet, but the war is mostly won.

Persistence

As any casual reader of this blog has noted by now that we have a boy in our family who is thoroughly obsessed with lizards, especially chameleons.  During church last Sunday I drew a simple picture of a Jackson chameleon for William to color.  He was really impressed and praised my drawing skills (what a rewarding boy he is sometimes!).  When we came home he promptly taped it to his door.  Then he tried to draw one.  Weeping, wailing and gnashing of teeth is the best way to describe Will's frustration, and he claimed he was an idiot (refer to the quote above).  I explained that the way people get good at things is by practicing a lot and not giving up even when they feel like screaming.  With a hopeful giggle through tears he said he would give it a try.  He took a pad of paper and a pen to a quiet corner and began drawing. 

Most of them he wadded up and dramatically threw in the garbage.  He made it through about 40 post-its.

Monday he finished the pad and started on another.  He taped some of his favorites to the cupboard so he could "compare them."

By Tuesday he had gone through most of the second pad and was starting to be pleased with his improvement.  It is now Wednesday, and he has drawn about 150 chameleons.  More comparisons taped to his bedroom door.

If it is true that persistence increases our capacities ("not that the nature of the thing has changed"), then William is on his way to greatness...

Losin' Teef

William:  "Let me see, Meg.  Oh you look so beautiful like that!"

Jacob: "Clara's new smile is so great, that huge space with the little drip of flesh in the middle."

I, for one, am a little sad to see that signature gap vanish, to be replaced with gigantic grown-up teeth.  The days go by too quickly with this girl...

Your Movie Library Is Not Complete

Just some recommendations from the akmallen vaults:

When I was growing up one of my very favorite movies has become one of my kids' favorites.  What is this magical production, you ask?

To watch the preview of this 1974 classic go HERE.  No home library is complete without it.

And for you adults out there, a movie your kids will hate, but you will love...

For the preview, go HERE.  It is a refreshing polar opposite from the likes of James Bond--rather than killing, it's about living.  Instead of merely ending a broken relationship, it's about repairing and repenting.  A wonderful story.

The Goop

I had taught the kids a poem for Family Home Evening a few months ago (which we recite occasionally when a manners offense has been committed).  The other day I was headed downstairs, and as I neared the kitchen I heard a wee voice chanting it:

"The Goops, they lick their fingers.
The Goops, they lick their knives.
They spill their broth on the table cloth,
Oh, they lead disgusting lives.

The Goops, they talk while eating,
And loud and fast they chew.
And that is why I'm glad that I
Am not a Goop, are you?"

I felt a small swell of pride as I rounded the corner, my little one applying the lesson he had learned so well... until I spotted the singing kitchen gnome.

Face buried deep in the yogurt container, raspberry glop everywhere, suspicious puddle under his chair, bulging little belly, which I like to rub like a lucky rabbit's foot, and a smile to melt his momma's heart, all while singing about the Goops.

Chef Mikey Robideaux Does It Again!

Today, Chef Mikey Robideaux delights us with a traditional Arabian appetizer:  Hummus.  Now, some of you may be thinking, I hate garbanzos!  My momma use to force feed them to me in salad!  or other such nonsense.  But Chef Mikey will save poor chickpea's reputation with this delicious recipe, guaranteed to delight grandchild and grandparent, friend and foe (though nary a foe will come around again if you add strychnine to their batch!).  "Keep in mind, this in not like traditional Indian hummus, which has a sweet quality about it.  If you prefer that flavor simply double the amount of chickpeas.  I've also found that my lady gets weak in the knees when I call her my little chickpea (especially 'cause I'm from the south).  Works WAY better than calling her a garbanzo."

Hummus

1 can garbanzo beans
1/3 c juice drained off the chickies

1/4 c lemon juice

3-4 T tahini, to taste (now this is sesame seed butter found in the peanut butter aisle at your local grocery store.  It's rather like fish sauce: don't try it by itself, but no authentic recipe is right without it!)

1/2 t salt

1 1/2 t cumin

1 clove minced garlic (you can be increase this if you're like Larry King and enjoy a little garlique)

3 hefty dashes cayenne pepper, to taste

Put all ingredients into a mean blender and blend to desired consistency.  I recommend you garnish this healthy treat with some paprika splinkled liberally on top.  Also good with finely chopped tomatoes or sun dried tomatoes, olives or olive oil, fresh parsley, a little feta or sesame seeds on top, etc.  Use the Palestinian part of your imagination!  Enjoy, with Chef Mikey Robideaux's compliments.

Ode to Elk

Titus, O Titus!

First friend and then foe,

Tell us the truth now,

Deep down did you know?

That when you went psycho

Your fate you would seal—

And shortly you’d feel

The edge of cold steel?

Titus, O Titus,

How sad was your lot!

Titus, O Titus:

The Elk who was not.

Then we have Snowball

Who crowed far too much.

His Little Man’s Syndrome

Got him out of touch.

Before you could see

Two flicks of her wand,

Mom turned him to Elk,

No chance to abscond!

Snowball, O Snowball

Prince of the Unthought!

Snowball, O Snowball:

The Elk who was not.

Posthumously teach us

The lessons you learned

In order to keep from

Our lives being adjourned.

Phoenix, be weary,

And Henwyn alert!

Spooky, you watch it,

And Sphynx, don’t be pert—

For one thing is certain,

And this is that:

If Mom calls you “Elk”

You had better scat!

Or before you know it

You’ll roast in the pot,

Your epitaph reading:

“The Elk who was not."

Chickie Cakes

"Hey kiddos, what are you doing out there with all that flour?"

"Oh, we're making the chickens a treat."

"What kind of treat is it?"

"Oh, it's going to be a chicken cake, with bugs and weeds and flour, and just stuff like that."

"You realize that's about 10 pounds of flour don't you?"

"Yeah.  It's a lot.  We have a lot of chickens though, and they each get their own."

"You're very thoughtful.  Now clean it ALL up, please."

(Famous last words...)

Our little Kitchen Gnome popped his head in the window for a dinner preview.

Since sweeping proved a dismal failure, they tried hosing off the mess, which, as we all know, turned it into a porch full of gluey gooey.  I gave them each a scrub brush and by the time they were finished it was way past dark.

Then they were sent to the tub.

"How did your cake turn out?"

Clara:  "Pretty well.  I'd eat it..."