Movie Theme Thursday

I still have lots to tell about my day of jury service, but I wanted to throw this game in here. I like to mix it up, keep people on their toes. I also couldn't resist the double "th" sound in the title. Can't get that if I put it up on a Friday.

Anyway...Movie Theme Thursday is just like Movie Quote Monday - except we use songs that were made famous by the movie. By famous, I mean highly recognizable and most likely heard on the radio.

I'll start out with a song title and possibly the artist. If you know the movie that it's from, leave it in your comment, along with a new movie song title/artist. And so on. Keep in mind that there may be more than one song that was made famous by the same movie. Start thinkin'...

Here goes:

(I've Had) The Time of My Life by Jennifer Warnes and Bill Medley

Go.

The Number One Reason I Love Troy

Last month I received a jury summons, asking me to be available for this entire week. I registered online and held on to the little card with the phone number one it. I was supposed to call the night before to find out if I needed to appear, starting on Monday.

I wasn't worried. I'd been called to jury duty several times and never had to go in. Calling to check each night was mildly inconvenient - but that's all I had to do. Actually having to serve did not even occur to me. I went ahead and scheduled things all week - orthodontist appointments and swimming lessons for the boys, etc. I wouldn't have to go in, right?

I think the biggest reason I was in such denial was the location of the court. It's downtown. I do not drive downtown. Ever.

Really.

I used to - I worked close to downtown and drove on errands and generally made my way around the city, doing what needed to get done. It didn't seem like a big deal. So what changed?

Well, I got married to a guy who loves to drive. Troy can find any place in any city. He's comfortable on the roads and so for the last 19+ years, he's done all the driving whenever we are together. I've gotten used to relying on him. We also live in a suburb of the "big city", but that suburb has pretty much everything I need. I can go months without leaving my little corner of the map. I'm used to it here.

But it's not just that - not just that I've grown accustomed to not driving downtown. It seems there is an anxiety issue that has developed in recent years.

In my head or not, it was very very real and very very apparent after I called on Monday night and found out that I had to appear in court on Tuesday morning. I listened to the recorded message three times to make sure I'd heard it right. Apparently, people actually do have to show up.

As it sunk in that I would have to go downtown, my mood became tense and irritable. I had a stomachache. I was pacing and worrying about all the things I'd have to deal with in driving downtown. It was all I could think about - the driving...the driving! The actual possibility of being on a jury didn't phase me, the inconvenience of taking off work and leaving the boys, not a problem. It was the thought of driving out of my comfort zone and into the downtown area. It was making me physically ill.

If Troy was going to be home, he would simply drive me there and pick me up when I called. No question, he would do that. But he was leaving that day, so I wouldn't have a way to get home.

"Take Trax.", a few people suggested. That's a good idea, really, it's just that I've never been on Trax, and the thought of navigating that by myself just about put me over the edge of my anxiety attack cliff.

Troy went over his "best way to go" directions. Each instruction built up another worry.

It would be rush hour - I haven't dealt with that in over a decade.

The bad storm on Monday - roads could be icy.

If the roads are wet, the glare off headlights is horrible.

I've never been there before - what if I couldn't find it?

Troy started rattling off freeway and exit numbers and saying things like "Make sure you're in such and such lane or you'll miss it." I started feeling like I was going to throw up.

Finding a parking place.

Parallel parking. Starting to sweat.

And with the storm, what if the roads aren't cleared and there is no parallel parking and I have to navigate a...a...(gasp)...parking garage?

What if I make a turn onto what I think is a road and all of a sudden it becomes a freeway that I can't get off of and then I'm late ? I started to shake.

What if...what if...what if...

And that's how I ended up in the fetal position, crying, on a Monday night.

Hey, for some people it's flying or public speaking.

Here's where Troy saved the day and my sanity: He got up hours before he needed to - being late was not an option and he didn't even question why I wanted to leave an hour and a half early - and drove alongside me to the courthouse. He led the way, a knight in his pickup truck, and I followed in the Explorer.

He did take the freeway route however, and I called him on the cell to whine.

"I'm in hell," I said, tensing up over the high speed and the snow and ice and all the other racing cars. "Just to let you know."

"I know. You're doing fine."

"H-E-Double toothpicks, Babe. Did we have to take the freeway?"

"It's rush hour - I'm getting you there on time. Stay in this lane."

"I hate this."

"You're doing fine."

And then we took an exit, made a turn or two, and lo and behold, we were there. He found me a metered parking spot, half a block from the courthouse. I turned off the engine and a wave of relief washed over me. I had made it.

Troy waited while I ran inside to get a parking permit to put on the dashboard. I hugged and thanked him for the millionth time. I was shaking, but it wasn't from the cold - the relief was followed by an adrenaline rush, and I couldn't stay still. I was giggling and shaking and trying to do some deep breathing to calm down. He hugged me tighter.

We said goodbye. Troy turned his truck around and headed back home. He got a few more hours of sleep before he had to drive to San Francisco. He shrugs it off, but really, that's the nicest thing he ever could have done for me.

Thanks, Troy. I wouldn't have made it without you. You are the best husband!!! Thank you for putting up with me.

I walked back through the snow to the courthouse. Jury duty, here I come.

I was 30 minutes early.

Sweet.

Honey...I'm Home

We got home from my parent's house last night, and only a few minutes after walking in the door, the phone rang. It was Cameron's friend, calling to tell him that President Hinckley had died. (I thought that was a very mature and thoughtful thing for an 11 year old boy to do)

That was the first of several calls we received and made last night.

"Did you hear...?"

"I just saw on the news..."

"Just wanted to make sure you knew..."

Aaron, ever my sensitive boy, got a little panicky and needed some hugs and reassurance about things in general. He wanted to pray, so we did that and then went downstairs to watch a little of the "breaking news" reports. Aaron caught the phrase that President Hinckley had died "about an hour and a half ago" and began using it in his own conversations.

"Mom, up until about an hour and a half ago, President Hinckley was the only prophet in my life, huh?"

One station was showing a documentary about President Hinckley's life and we watched part of it together. We brought out an Ensign with the pictures of the First Presidency and the General Authorities and talked about change. We read his last talk from Conference.

You know how if you read a quote by President Hinckley, you can hear his voice, with all the inflections and tone right there in your mind. I love that. I will miss his voice, his humor and wit, hearing his testimony and the powerful messages that he wove around gentle stories of his life and his love for our Savior. I will miss him.

I didn't shed a tear though, until I started thinking about the reunions going on up in Heaven, and then I can't hold back. Can you imagine?

I have an unwavering testimony of eternal families and relationships, and that death is not an end, but a beginning. I'm so happy for President Hinckley!

He's with his wife again. He doesn't need his cane. He's able to talk to all the past prophets and friends that he's served with. He is with the Savior. The thought that won't leave my mind is that he's meeting Joseph Smith. They have lots to talk about.

Mostly, I imagine that Sister Hinckley is holding on tight to his arm and just about bursting with happiness. Finally, he's home!

She tugs him away from all the happy greeters.

See you later...we've got some catching up to do.

Movie Quote Monday

Good morning!


I'm starting things off with a movie quote that is sung. Can you name the movie and the character?

"I want the world. I want the whole world. I want to lock it all up in my pocket. It's my bar of chocolate. Give it to me now. "


Go.

Come and Play!

So glad you all liked the German Pancakes! My family would eat those things for any meal of the day.

Come back tomorrow and play Movie Quote Monday.
See you there!

A Buttery Breakfast

With the new year, we switched from the slightly-too-early 9 am church schedule to the perfect 11 am block.

When church starts at 9, the boys are lucky if they have a minute to eat a bowl of cereal. Sometimes they polish off a Pop Tart as we drive the two blocks to the meeting house. There's not even time for toast.

But with church starting at 11, there is time for a nice breakfast. Something hot and delicious that makes the day feel a little bit special.

For the last few weeks, the boys have been requesting German Pancakes.

I was introduced to these as a teenager by my friend Valerie. Well, it was actually her Mother, Yvonne. She's the one that made them for us on Saturday mornings after a sleepover.

She called them Hootenannies - which was fun to say, and it made them even more yummy. I'd never seen anything like it. She baked them in a pie pan and when they came out of the oven, the edges had puffed up high and crispy and curled inward in an astounding way. Yvonne, never one to skimp on the use of butter, spread some on the inside and sprinkled powdered sugar over the entire thing.

It was the butter part that I found so unusual. At my house, the butter was for my Dad and my Dad only. The rest of us used margarine or Shedd's Spread. I don't remember wanting the butter or feeling like the margarine was second best. Mom just explained that my Dad grew up on butter and so it was what he liked as an adult. There was a slight implication that we would not like butter, and that pretty much kept us from ever trying it out.

Here at Valerie's house though, it was butter all the way. Butter for everyone! Butter on the table, butter on your toast, eggs cooked in butter, and most definitely, butter on the Hootenannies.

When Yvonne spread the butter (dare I say, slathered) on the hot Hootenanny, it melted into golden pools that absorbed the liberal dusting of powdered sugar. It made a sweet, buttery topping that was perfect for the mild pancake.

I loved those Hootenanny mornings. Thank you, Yvonne!

My boys love them too.

Wanna see?

Check out the edges, all puffy and curled up. Kids love this. Okay, so do I.

This is right out of the oven. My camera kept fogging up.

Let's add the powdered sugar.

Mmmmmmmmmm.....

Oooooooooooo........

Cameron requests half of one on his plate.

He likes the Cut...

-n- Shovel method of eating.

Aaron likes his cut up so he can eat it like pizza. I use scissors for this.

Chomp!

Let's get another shot of that melty, buttery, mouth-watering deliciousness.

Seriously, how could you not love this?

So what do my boys think about as they sit at the counter in their underwear (see note below), devouring this tasty Sunday morning breakfast?

Aaron? He's easy.

He's thinking, "I'm the luckiest kid in the world to have a Mom that makes this for breakfast."

Cameron's thinking: "I wonder what it would be like to have a Mom that didn't

take pictures of me while I'm eating?"

***Note*** I do suggest eating these in your underwear - or at least before you get dressed in your "good clothes". You know...powdered sugar and all.

I also suggest you make some this weekend.

***************************************************

German Pancakes...aka Hootenannies

6 eggs

1 cup milk

1 cup flour

a few dashes of salt

4 Tb. butter or margarine (yes, margarine will work too)

Preheat oven to 450 degrees.

Put 2 Tb. butter in each of two pie pans; melt as the oven heats up. In a bowl, combine the eggs, milk, flour, and salt. Beat until fluffy (use electric beaters) and smooth. Pour half of the batter in each pan. Bake for 20 minutes. Pancakes will puff up in an amazing and delightful way. Serve with more butter and powdered sugar.

*********************************************

Favorite Way to Clean? The Mouse.

Bit by bit, I'm learning how to use a few photo editing tools.

I use a little finger icon to smudge out identifying information:

I can lighten and brighten and crop Troy's big ol' foot out of this shot:

See...much better.

I removed an unsightly blemish from the tip of my lip and even calmed a little of the rosacea redness from my cheeks for my new blog photo.

Yeah, it's subtle, but I can tell. I really can. I just wish I'd used the clone tool and placed teeth over my chewing gum.

But the best editing I've done is on this one:

Look at that baseboard.

And now look at the baseboard.

It's not perfect, but it no longer looks dirty, chipped, scratched and like it has a 5 year old paint job. It no longer distracts from the puppy.

So I'm all excited about what I've taught myself on Photo Impression 6. I had Troy sit down at the computer and I showed him how I cleaned up the baseboard.

"See, I make the brush this big, then I find an area with the same color that I want to have over the dirty spot. Then I press shift and click the mouse and then I click the mouse over every spot that I don't like. See how it changes it? I did it on the walls too. See how clean it looks? How awesome it that?"

"You know," Troy said tentatively, choosing his words carefully, "you could just clean the wall and the baseboard. But this is really cool too. You're pretty smart."

I think he just threw in that last part to save himself.

What do you think?

Scrub down the walls and baseboards...or keep using the Photo Impression 6 Quick Edit Tools?

The Growing Puppy

We've had him almost 4 weeks and as you can see, he's growing fast. He's almost too big to tote around like this but we still do.

The sweater that he's wearing in the top picture no longer fits. That was money well spent.

He's a cuddler and if we hold him up high, close to our necks, he puts his paws on our shoulders and it looks like he's hugging us. We hug him back.

He still loves his puffy little bed...

Only now he has to throw out an arm to fit.

Or his whole head.

He enjoys his food and waits patiently (sometimes),

and he's a trooper to go out in all this snow. Housebroken--hooray!!!

I don't care how big he gets. I will still cover him up

and take pictures while he's sleeping.

And occasionally sing to him.

It's a full-blown case of puppy love.

Movie Quote Monday Is Back!!!

I've been missing it too - just had to bring it back.

Rules refresher: If you know the name of the movie that the quote comes from, put it in your comment. Feel free to name the actor or any other bit of trivia or memory from the movie. Along with your answer, throw out a new movie quote for someone else to guess. Keep it clean - using asterisks is appreciated. If we're stumped, we may ask for a hint. This is open to everyone - join in the fun!

I liked this quote because it gives a nod to the return of Movie Quote Monday.

"Punjab, buy out the 8:00 show. Let's all go to the movies."

Go.

If You Buy the Popcorn, I'll Get the Drinks

I don't know...something's been missing lately.

People have asked about it.

Some have even requested it.

I've been thinking...

What should we do tomorrow?

Notes of Note. A Post in Two Parts

Part I:
The Note From School, or,
Loosening My Bra As My Heart Swells With Pride

First of all, thank you for all your kind words of support and encouragement about Cam's science fair project. He took it to school yesterday and sat by it for an hour or two, answering questions from the judges and visiting parents. He was proud of his project and did a good job all around.

Today he brought this note home:

And this:
Pretty cool. Cameron was worried that he'd have to do another whole project. I assured him that if that was the case, he would politely decline the invitation. There is a bunch of paperwork to fill out though - almost a mini written report. And if he goes on to the state fair, we have to pay an entrance fee. For now, I think we'll just relax and enjoy being off track.



*******************************************************

Part II:
The Note That Came Out of the Dryer, or

If It's Love, Why Does It Hurt So Much?

Okay, I might be crossing a line. Sure I can post the pictures of Troy getting his eyebrows waxed, and me getting my colonoscopy, but this is almost too personal.


Last night, after I had tucked the boys in bed, I went to change the laundry over to the dryer. I pulled the dry clothes out and a tightly folded, still slightly damp note fell onto the floor.


You all told me about what you've pulled out of the dryer - the ipods, the gum, the dead hamster and the poop. But a note? You read it, right?

I did.

It was fragile from its trip through the washer and dryer but I carefully unfolded it and read the pencil writing.


Cam had written it, but never delivered it. It said:

"To Aspen, I like you. (smiley face)...But you like Will. Abby told me you hate me and never want to talk to me again. (frowny face)


I raced downstairs to show the note to Troy. He was as shocked as I was. There was romantic drama going on? We never knew. And what a love triangle it seems to be - Cam, Aspen, Will, and Abby - though so far, Abby is only the passer of information. Who is this Aspen girl...and why is she breaking my son's heart?


I went to ask Cam about it. He denied knowing what I was talking about, but that might have been because I woke him up. I asked him who everyone was and he tried to tell me what had happened. Even through his explanation I could tell that he wasn't even sure what was going on.


"Are you sad?" I was prepared to grieve with him.


"Not really."

"But you drew a frowny face! That means you're sad!"

"Then I guess I was."

"Why didn't you deliver it?" Hand me a bigger spoon, I'm stirring it up really good now.

"I changed my mind."

"Okay sweetheart. Probably better that way. Do you want to talk about it? Do you need a hug?"

"Mom, I'd kinda forgotten all about it."

"Oh...okay...but if you need a shoulder..."

"Goodnight!"

********************************************************

Two very different notes, but they both amaze me.

I just have to ask...


Did you ever pass notes in school?

I Think I Heard Some Angels Singing

It's a wrap.

We are finished.

Done.

Completed.

Depleted.

Spent.

Exhausted...

and oh, so Happily Satisfied.

The science project is ready to turn in. The 13 page report is tucked into a nice, white cover; the display is standing up on the kitchen table - I can't take my eyes off of it.

I'm just a little bit proud of it.

I love stuff like this - choosing the fonts, laying out copy, lining things up, making everything nice and symmetrical.

I even let Cameron help a little bit with taping things into place.

I'm kidding.

Sort of.

Let's just say the display part of the science fair project has been a joint effort.

He did the report part with only a little supervision from me, but I just couldn't keep my hands off the display. I LOVE this kind of thing!

Cameron and I present :


Check it out. Click to enlarge this bad boy.



Do you like the arrows? I love the arrows. We had to display the Scientific Method so that it was well organized and easy to follow from one idea to the next. Nothing does that like an arrow.

A few pictures, a snazzy title, the Jester font (Cameron chose this), and even a couple graphs. Self-taught on Microsoft Works Spreadsheet, I am. Lots and lots of tape and some construction paper for a punch of color.


Cam is happy.

I am happy, multiplied by ecstatic, divided by tired, and rounded up to tickled pink with the entire thing.

It's DONE. Cue the Angel Chorus.

Hallelujah and Amen.

Do you think I could sell it on ebay?

Tag! I'm It.

I have been tagged - the first time ever. It's that thing where you reveal a few little-known things about yourself and then "tag" someone who reads your blog, then they have to go and do the same thing on their own blog. Sort of a modern day chain letter. If you ignore the tag, I think your blog deletes itself or something.

My first thought about revealing facts about myself was that I've already shared most everything. I've written about my feet, my colon, my love for 80's music and Zac Efron, the way our gerbils die and how I love to watch Troy get his eyebrows waxed. I am an open book.

And then I actually thought of a few more.

As always though, there's a little backstory to explore first.

I started reading some blogs belonging to some friends of mine maybe a year and half ago. There was my childhood friend wahwee, and her husband loudboy, the older sister sugarbritches, just to name a few. All of a sudden I was immersed in their lives and knowing things about them and their extended family members - it was the ultimate fly-on-the-wall experience.

I was a lurker - didn't even have my own account and I couldn't leave comments, but I was addicted to reading everything they wrote. I started clicking around, found Cheeky Lotus (who has retired), Pioneer Woman, and many other blogs that I checked on daily. Finally I started Dishes and Laundry last July and that was it for me.

"Hi I'm Wendy...and I'm a blogaholic."

"Hi Wendy."

More family and friends have started blogs and it honestly has become one of the things I enjoy most, every single day. The writing is a creative and therapeutic outlet for me, my family likes reading about themselves (I think), and I get a lot of satisfaction from hitting publish. I love your comments and the friendships I've made through all of this.

So check out those links - do Loudboy first. He tagged the other two, and then Wahwee tagged me. Then come back here and read all six new and exciting interesting provacative astonishing time killing facts about me.

Here goes:

#1. I was named after Wendy in Peter Pan. My biological Dad was an actor and when I was born he was starring as Captain Hook in a local production. I've always liked my name - and it was far better than Tiger Lily or Tinkerbell, the only other girl names in the play. I like that the play has a song for me, titled, Wendy. I like that the Beach Boys have a song titled, Wendy, and I like that The Association has a song titled Windy. They spelled my name wrong but I don't care. What kid doesn't enjoy hearing their name on the radio?

Who's peekin' out from under a stairway

Calling a name that's lighter than air

Who's bending down to give me a rainbow

Everyone knows it's Windy

Who's tripping down the streets of the city

Smilin' at everybody she sees

Who's reachin' out to capture a moment

Everyone knows it's Windy

And Windy has stormy eyes

That flash at the sound of lies

And Windy has wings to fly

Above the clouds (above the clouds)

Above the clouds (above the clouds)

------ flute ------

Who's tripping down the streets of the city

Smilin' at everybody she sees

Who's reachin' out to capture a moment

Everyone knows it's Windy

[repeat and fade]

#2. When I was very young, my babysitter was Joyce DeWitt. You know her as Janet from Three's Company. Of course that was back when she was a teenager (actor Dad was also her high school drama teacher) and wasn't using such a heavy hand with the eyeliner. 'Cause, whoa.

She's the only "famous" person I've ever known, and she probably changed my diaper.

#3. When I was a young teenager, my favorite tv show was M*A*S*H*. I LOVED this show. For Christmas one year, I got a book all about the show. It had the history of the show, cast biographies, episode summaries, pictures and more pictures. I read this book cover to cover, quoting it, putting little checks by the episodes as I watched them in reruns. I could name the titles of each episode and recite trivia about all the stars. I still have this book - it's held together with packaging tape. When the show ended in 1983, I taped the final episode, Goodbye, Farewell and Amen, and watched a little bit of it every morning as I got ready for school. This went on for months. I cried and cried every time that helicopter lifted off the ground with Hawkeye inside and he could see GOODBYE spelled out in rocks.

I bet I haven't watched an episode in 20 years.

#4. I love having my feet rubbed. Any time, any place, any where. I would let a stranger rub my feet. Troy rubs my feet during Sacrament Meeting, reaching down and kneading, tickling, massaging. Cameron does it best though. He watches tv with me and sits with my feet in his lap and goes to work. His technique is superb and I hope he never gets tired of rubbing his Mama's feet.

#5. I am not a very good driver and I'm directionally challenged. I can get lost driving to places that I'm familiar with. Every time I drive to my Grandma's house (same house she's lived in forever) I have to ask Troy "Now how do I get there?". I am always missing exits and turnoffs, driving miles out of my way. I hate making left hand turns, changing lanes, and we won't even talk about driving at night. I don't drive downtown. Downtown to me is anything north of 21st South.

One time I went to a viewing in Lehi. I arrived (with the help of mapquest) in the daylight, but by the time I left it was dark. I couldn't see the mountains and didn't know which way to go to get back on the freeway (which I also hate driving on). I was completely and utterly lost. I drove around aimlessly until I found someone who drove like they knew where they were going and followed them. Somehow I made it home.

Knocking on wood here, but surprisingly, I've never been in an accident (other than when I was a passenger).

Troy tells me about some of the places he drives and the conditions he drives in and I get all panicky just hearing about it.

I love it when Troy is home and he offers to drive me around on my errands. He drops me off, waits in the car and then takes me to the next place. He rarely complains. This is why I love him. That and the foot rubbing thing.

#6. I can't sleep if I'm touching someone. Troy and I have these pillow barricades on our bed and it's a king size bed. There never has been, nor will there ever be, falling asleep in each other's arms. Cuddling is great, but when it's time to sleep, the pillows come out. We're so far apart, I don't think we could touch each other without stretching for it.

And that's it. Six little facts about me.

Don't I sound fun? Don't get in a car with me and someday I might ask you to rub my feet.

I tag my sister-in-law Elise and happyleila.

P.S. You have got to go read Elise's story about her shark.

Important Scientific Findings From My Kitchen

No, no, Science has not discovered that an unmopped floor leads to better overall health, or that a less than sparkling oven produces tastier food, though I am convinced of both and will gladly offer my kitchen towards any experiments that could prove it.

What has been found, scientifically speaking, is that 5th Grade Science Fair Projects are a lot of work!

Cameron chose to experiment with microwave popcorn and how different storage temperatures will affect the final product. Apparently, each kernel of popcorn contains a small amount of water in the center - when that water is heated, it produces steam and pressure, and that's what makes it explode. The water content has to be around 14% - even a tiny percentage difference and you'll get poor quality popcorn. We tried to mess with the water content.

We've been keeping:

Popcorn packets in the freezer - predicting that the drop of water inside the kernel will freeze, expand, and crack the shell, making the kernels unpoppable. Also something about the cold keeping it from heating quickly enough in the exact popping time.

Popcorn packets in the fridge - predicting that the percentage of water inside the kernel would be altered by the low humidity and produce less fluffy popcorn, and again with the cold keeping it from heating enough.

Popcorn packets on the counter - predicting that this would be the perfect spot to store popcorn.
We did a test run, timing an extra bag on how long it took for it to pop perfectly, and then we used that time for all the bags. We are nothing if not scientific.

Cam popped the freezer bags first. We seriously thought it wouldn't even work, that we'd have to cut open the bag to reveal oily, sad, cracked kernels, ruined by their 30+ hours in the freezer. What a great picture that would make for the display board.

Guess what? It popped just fine. Tasted fine too.

We tried the refrigerator samples next, hoping at least for some decreased volume. Those popped up fine as well.

When Cameron popped the counter samples, I was ready to be blown away. For sure these packets would pop up with double the volume, twice the flavor, no old maids, anything.

Amaze me, cool science experiment, amaze me!!!

Nope.

It was pretty much all the same. I would have served any of the popcorn to company.

We measured every batch, counted every unpopped kernel, and did a good handful-size taste test. Any differences were negligible. Seriously.


I think the freezer samples produced 50 or so unpopped kernels and 2 quarts of popcorn, the fridge samples had around thirty unpopped kernels and the same volume, and the counter samples had 20 unpopped kernels and made 2 quarts plus 1 1/2 cups of popcorn.

Big deal.

However, for the sake of the Science Fair, we are making a very big deal about that extra cup and a half of popcorn and how few old maids were left when we wisely stored our popcorn at room temperature.

We're also gonna poke around a little bit more and see if we can prove that the counter samples produced bigger popped kernels.


Please, let them have produced bigger popped kernels. I want to show something significant from this little experiment.

Perhaps I should contact the Pop Weaver Popcorn Company and suggest their new advertising campaign: You can store this stuff anywhere - it'll still pop!

So that was the fun, fast part of the project. Now Cameron has to write up everything, including: a purpose page, research pages, hypothesis page, materials page, procedural page, variables page, data pages, analysis page, and a conclusion page.

He's in fifth grade, remember?

Then there's the display board that needs to be colorful, creative, and charismatic though it cannot contain any actual popcorn. Shoot - we were gonna glue a nice popcorn border around the edges.

It's all due next Thursday.

We're just hoping to be done flossing by then.

Happy Birthday Cameron!

I'm a few days late on this, but on his actual birthday, we were doing, well, birthday stuff.

Cameron turned eleven last Saturday. Eleven...eleven!

We had a really fun day - Troy was home and we spent the whole day together. As usual, I tried to show my love through food, waking Cameron up to German pancakes. My side of the family was coming over for dinner and Cameron had requested a dinner of spaghetti with meat sauce (no onions or mushrooms) and garlic bread (with no cheese), and key lime pie for dessert. I spent a good part of the day preparing the meal and doing some cleaning, and generally hugging him whenever he walked by.

Cameron got everything he wished for, including the funds (thanks Grandma and Grandpa and Great-Grandma) to purchase a computer game he wanted. While Troy did the shopping, installing of the game and cleanup from the party, I snuck away to go see the movie Juno with a friend.

I had wanted to write about the emotions that this movie stirred up inside me and how it all related to Cameron's birthday, his amazing adoption and my feelings about his birthmom. But when I start to write, the words don't seem adequate. My language just isn't enough to explain everything about my boy, his birthmom, and her gift that made me a mother.

He is my heart.
She is too.

I don't want to be tearful and emotional as I write to celebrate Cameron's birthday. I want to be funny and joyous over this sweet kid that I absolutely adore. I want to tell you about all his remarkable qualities and characteristics, and how he makes me laugh, his easy-going attitude and everything I love about him.

The other stuff, the fact that the happiest day of my life was his birthmom's hardest day, is just too emotional for words - even eleven years later. Maybe I can write about it someday. Maybe not.

So today I'm just going to share a few pix. That's the beauty of blogging - you don't have to wait for someone to ask to see a picture of your kids - you can just throw 'em out there.

I don't have any pictures of Cameron on his actual birthday.
Our story starts on his Gotcha Day. He was one day old.

This was taken just moments after Cameron was laid in my arms. Don't look at my hair - just don't even look at it. (Seriously, what the heck???) Instead, look at that beautiful, perfect baby boy. Red lips, slicked hair, tiny curled up little body, wrapped in a blanket made by his birthmom's sister.

He was my dream come true.

Back at home, we spent the rest of the day receiving visitors and talking on the phone.

"He's here...he's ours..."

There was a brief period in Cameron's life when he had a little body fat.

That was then...

This is now...

This is one of my all-time favorite pictures of Cameron. The hair...those lips...

That was then...

This is now...

Oh, those lips!

That was then...

This is now...

I guess some things don't change.

Happy Birthday, Cameron!!

I love you. You make me happy every single day.

I'm so grateful that you are mine and I am yours.

Come and gimme a hug.