Gallbladder #3

Dear Gallbladder,

I'll probably never send this letter to you now that I've cut off all contact, but I need to write down my thoughts. We are still getting used to your absence. It is much more difficult than we anticipated. Stomach is melancholy, often times refusing food but at other times demanding food, only to return it. Liver is very confused. Without you there to regulate bile production, Liver is lost regarding how much to make. Erring on the side of too much upsets Stomach more than too little. Then there's Pancreas. It just couldn't handle the abuse. Pancreas is still angry but is also grieving more than the others. I think it may never operate at full capacity again.

It will get better eventually. Sometimes it's hard to think of that when we're curled up in bed. Tylenol, pepto bismol, and small bites from the b.r.a.t. diet keep us going. The moments I can actually fall asleep are a welcome relief from all the angst and drama. It won't last forever. Life will resume, though it will be a new normal. So I raise a glass of broth to better days ahead.

Sincerely,
MR

Gallbladder #2

Dear Gallbladder,

Why couldn't you just leave and be done with it? You left behind a couple of surprises, or "stones," that continue to aggravate Pancreas. Was that necessary? We all want to heal from your misdeeds; your little surprises make it difficult to move on. Well, you won't keep me down. I will get rid of your stones. There will be nothing left to remind me of you once and for all. This is the final good-bye.

Sincerely,
MR

Gallbladder #1

Dear Gallbladder,

We have lived in harmony for many years, but lately you've been causing problems. You began hurting me earlier this summer and blaming it on Stomach. All my friends thought Stomach gave me an ulcer. I believed you for over a month. But you didn't stop there. You aggravated Pancreas next. As we all know, when Pancreas gets angry, everyone gets hurt.

So I need to tell you that it's time to break up. I cannot continue a relationship with one who hurts me, lies to me, and turns others against me. I'm going to call in professional help to sever our connection. This will be permanent. I will not let you hurt me again.

Sincerely,
MR

"The Moral Force of Women"

Last month Dominic and I were asked to give talks about General Conference in sacrament meeting. Usually I make an outline and talk from that. On a whim I wrote out my talk this time. I received quite a few complimentary comments, which I don't normally get, so I thought you might enjoy it, too.

The Moral Force of Women by Elder D. Todd Christofferson

I have chosen Elder Christofferson’s talk on The Moral Force of Women, because it has been on my mind a lot lately. Let me begin by giving you a little of my background. My father, who was born and raised in the church, did his graduate studies at Yeshiva University, a Jewish-run institution. While there he developed a better understanding of and love for Jews and their culture. (In fact 2 of my brothers, Aaron and Joshua, were named after my Dad’s favorite professor.)  Because Orthodox Jewish women stay at home, many Gentiles mistakenly believe they have no value. However, it is because they are so highly valued that they are entrusted to teach and care for the children, and protected from the harsh outside world. So I grew up in a home that also highly valued the role of a mother in raising children. My parents encouraged my sisters and me to seek higher education so that we could become the best mothers we could. Hearing this talk during the Saturday afternoon session resonated with everything I believe about the role of women as wives and mothers.

Elder Christofferson expresses gratitude for the influence of good women, warns us of dangerous trends, and pleads with us to cultivate our innate moral power.

He speaks of 3 specific women who had a positive influence on him. One mother in Mexico “was love personified” as she sacrificed earthly treasures in order to care for her home and family. Elder Christofferson even compared her to the Savior, “blessing others through service and sacrifice.” He then tells us about Anna Daines, who worked tirelessly in New Jersey “to overcome deeply rooted prejudice against Mormons and to make the community a better place for all parents to raise their children.” When Elder Christofferson was a teenager his family moved into Anna’s ward. She encouraged him to reach higher than he would have otherwise. And “once, because of a thoughtful and timely warning from her, I avoided a situation that would surely have led to regret,” he said. Next he talks about his own grandmother, who taught him to be a conscientious priesthood holder. She encouraged him to memorize the sacramental blessings on the bread and water. She taught him a reverence for sacred things. Although she “never learned how to drive a car, … she knew how to help boys become priesthood men.”

Elder Christofferson moves on to describe a mother’s influence in her home. It’s amazing, and I want to read the whole paragraph.

            “A mother can exert an influence unequaled by any other person in any other relationship. By the power of her example and teaching, her sons learn to respect womanhood and to incorporate discipline and high moral standards in their own lives. Her daughters learn to cultivate their own virtue and to stand up for what is right, again and again, however unpopular. A mother’s love and high expectations lead her children to act responsibly without excuses, to be serious about education and personal development, and to make ongoing contributions to the well-being of all around them. Elder Neal A Maxwell once asked: ‘When the real history of mankind is fully disclosed, will it feature the echoes of gunfire or the shaping sound of lullabies? The great armistices made by military men or the peacemaking of women in homes and in neighborhoods? Will what happened in cradles and kitchens prove to be more controlling than what happened in congresses?’”

            Wow. That’s all I can say, just wow. I always thought that the saying, behind every great man is a great woman, referred to the great man’s wife. After reading that, I’m inclined to think it is actually talking about the man’s mother.

Our role in creating life is very sacred. We give physical bodies to God’s children. I don’t know anyone who has given birth who will say it was easy or fun, but it is worth it. Sometimes we even put our lives on the line. But childbirth is an “integral part … in God’s work and glory ‘to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man.’” Once we realize that, I hope we will be righteous role models “of chastity before marriage and fidelity within marriage.” It is because we have a “civilizing influence in society, [and] have brought out the best in men.” That is almost exactly what my dad says about women. His example: look at the first Europeans in Idaho – hunters, trappers, and explorers. They were constantly moving around and had reputations of being a bit rough. Who settled here? Men with wives, who encouraged them to settle in one place and raise children. That’s when towns and cities grew.

Elder Christofferson doesn’t want to overpraise us, which he realizes makes us cringe. We know we’re not perfect, so when people tell us we are, I for one feel like I fall short, by a lot. So he switches from praising to warning.

One modern philosophy is devaluing marriage, motherhood and homemaking. Society says that homemaking “demeans women, and the relentless demands of raising children are a form of exploitation.” My family has first-hand experience with this. My older sister Emily was invited into the gifted and talented program in 3^rd grade. For the next 3 years of elementary school, she was told over and over again that she was too smart to be a mom, that she was meant for better things, that motherhood was a waste of her talent. My mom, who earned her Bachelor’s degree and chose to leave her career to raise children, was insulted by this attitude. So when others of us were invited into the gifted and talented program, my mom refused to send us. I am happy to report that all my mother’s daughters are college educated and happily raising children now. Emily had a hard time giving up her lucrative career at first, but now she has no regrets. Let’s not forget about my brothers, who sought out righteous, moral women to marry. Their wives are also well-educated and staying home to raise their children. My brothers work very hard to provide for their families and support their wives in child-rearing.

Another dangerous attitude concerns sexual immorality. Like immodest clothing is debasing, not liberating. My youngest brother impressed me when he threw a Hawaiian themed birthday party his senior year of high school. Now, my brother is very out-going, has always been popular, and he isn’t shy about letting people know he is a Mormon and what he believes. So when 2 of his friends showed up at the party wearing grass skirts and bikini tops he said, “I thought they knew me better than that.” He then went to his room and grabbed 2 of his own Hawaiian shirts and gave them to his friends before they even stepped into the house. My brother is a full foot taller than me, so his shirts are big and baggy. And that’s what the girls wore the entire party. He valued his friends enough to keep them modest.

[And this is where I stopped because it was time to go to church. The rest was written while I was waiting for my turn to speak.]

Another problem is the cultural double-standard of sexuual promiscuity. Women were expected to be pure, while men were allowed, or even expected, to sow their wild oats. That double-standard is finally equalizing. Unfortunately in the wrong direction. Instead of women and men being chase, women are joining the men in promiscuity. It leads to father-less families and poverty. Women lose their moral influence, and it degrades all of society.

The final concern comes from those who want men and women to be equal in every way, erasing the differences between masculine and feminine. Women are being portrayed in the media as more aggressive, tough, and confrontational. I remember studying Shakespeare's MacBeth in high school. Lady MacBeth wants to help her husband attain power, so she murders a man who stands in the way. Before she commits this heinous act, she throws off her fenininity. I remember my teacher telling us that in Shakespeare's time, it was unthinkable that a woman could do anything so awful unless she denies her natural state. Let us remember what former Young Women General President Nadauld taught: there are enough women who are tough, coarse, rude, vain, and popular. Let us be the ones who are tender, kind, refined, virtuous, and pure. 

Elder Christofferson's final plea is that we protect and cultivate... [and this is when Dominic finished talking and I had to speak. When I reached this part of my talk, I fumbled a bit and finally concluded with my testimony. If you hate cliffhangers, go to Christofferson's talk to read the exciting conclusion here.]

The Life of Mr. Fishy

Elisa often seems lost in her own little world. Dominic has mentioned that she has the attention span of a fish. Last Christmas he had the fun idea of giving Lisy a fish. We gave her a blue beta, which she named Mr. Fishy. She loved it immediately. When she first saw the net, she asked, "Can I use that to take him out?!" She took it in stride when the anwser was no. She tried to pet him several times until we put a stop to it. Over the last 5 months she has spent a lot of time just watching him. She took her job of feeding him very seriously. At first she fed him everything: bread, chocolate chips, cereal, cat food, etc. Once she remembered that he could only eat fish food, she was diligent about it (and the bowl stayed cleaner longer. Of course I was the only one to clean out the bowl.) Sometimes her younger sisters still tried to feed Mr. Fishy something taboo.

Last week I discovered Mr. Fishy floating at the top of his bowl. Lisy was very sad. We gathered in the bathroom to flush him down the toilet. When Dominic came home, we held a memorial service in the garden. The kids made a small ring of stones and placed little bouquets of garden flowers. We said a prayer. Then the children, starting with Lisy, all told their favorite stories about Mr. Fishy. Who new a fish could generate so many happy memories?

Yesterday we took her to the pet store to get a new fish. She liked the betas just fine, but she loved the goldfish. "It's a fish that's shiny like gold!" $4 for a beta or 4/$1 for a goldfish? That's a no-brainer. Now Lisy has a goldfish, Mr. Fishy II.

Mr. Fishy II likes to hide behind the statue.

"all about my MOM"

Happy Mother's Day!

Today in Primary all the children filled out a form about their moms. Except for Makayla who is still in Nursery, I received 4 questionnaires that cracked me up. They are so funny that I have to share them with you. Just remember, they answered in all seriousness.

1. My mom is ___ years old.
2. My mom weighs ____ pounds.
3. My mom's favorite color is ____.
4. My mom's favorite food is _____.
5. My mom always says "_____."
6. My mom cooks the best ______.
7. My mom's job is ______.
8. My mom laughs when _______.
9. If my mom had time, she would love to _______.
10. My mom & I like to _______.
11. My mom really loves _________.
12. I LOVE my mom because ____________.

Samuel
1. 35 years old
2. 250 pounds
3. red
4. eggs with cheese
5. "When the food comes, eat."
6. cookies
7. being a stay at home mom
8. we do funny things
9. read
10. do garden work
11. gardening
12. she is awesome

Benjamin
1. 34 years old
2. ?
3. red
4. ?
5. ?
6. food
7. taking care of the family
8. ?
9. ?
10. ?
11. my family
12. ? ("You don't know what you love about me?" I asked. "Well, there are just so many things," he answered. Good save, kiddo.)

Elisa
1.77 years old
2. 100 pounds
3. red
4. pizza
5. "Keep yourself modest."
6. popcorn
7. she takes care of me
8. Dad's funny
9. eat
10. do homework (actually, helping her with homework drives me bonkers!)
11. me (she apparently thinks very highly of herself)
12. she takes good care of me

Rachel
1. 27 years old
2. 40 pounds
3. pink
4. eggs
5. "I love you."
6. biscuits
7. folding laundry
8. it's funny
9. make pancakes
10. fold my laundry
11. making me food (I think she was hungry)
12. gives me my baby dolls

Handprints on the Wall

I had a moment of motivation, and I cleaned the walls and window in the room we call our den. As I sat on the floor scrubbing dirty handprints off the wall, I thought wistfully, "My youngest is now 2. Just a few more years until I won't have to deal with this anymore."

Then I remembered my teenage years when my mom complained about handprints on the ceiling (we held contests to see who could jump the highest). And I had an epiphany: I will always have to deal with handprints; just the heighth will change. Oh well.

Image borrowed from flickr.com

Duck Duck Goose

Well, that was the craziest game of Duck Duck Goose I ever remember playing.

The players: Mom, Samuel (9), Benjamin (7), Elisa (5), Rachel (3), and Makayla (turning 2 in 2 weeks). Dominic is sick, so he just sat on the couch.

Problems: 1. We were all wearing socks, and the living room has hardwood flooring. So imagine, if you will, everytime someone jumps up or tries to run around the circle, all the slipping, sliding and laughter that ensues. 2. Makayla does not yet grasp the rules of the game. At first she had to sit in my lap. Then I tried to help her when she wanted to join in the fun. Eventually she went around the circle, hitting our heads (ouch!) and saying "duck" and "goose" at random intervals, regardless of who's turn it was. 3. The children grew bored with "duck" and moved on to random things in the room, such as shelf, couch, table, sister, etc. They were laughing so hard that no one could hear when "goose" was called.

The festivities finally grew too rambunctious for me, and I called it quits. It took some time for everyone to calm down enough for prayers and bedtime. It is an hour later now, and I hear no noise coming from the kids' rooms. Perhaps they wore themselves out. Thank you, Elisa, for choosing this game for tonight's Family Home Evening activity.

Confesson

I like my stationary bike a lot, but not for the reason that you're thinking of. It was a great find from a second-hand store: $15 and the only thing that doesn't work is the speedometer (why would you want to know how fast you're going if you're not going anywhere?). Yes, it is nice to workout inside during the temperature extremes of Summer and Winter. Yes, I'm glad my children see me exercise and want to do it, too. Yes, I like feeling productive while watching tv. But the main reason I like my classic Schwinn stationary bike is because when there is no room on the couches, I can still sit on my bike to watch tv. My bike can never get cluttered.

Scripture time

Sometimes we can read scriptures and have a meaningful discussion. Sometimes we can barely get one verse read before the kids melt down, and we wrestle them into bed. Occasionally one or more of the children fall asleep, and we have to carry them up to bed. Tonight was different from them all.

First, the children all piled onto Dominic. I started reading, but the kids were too noisy. Dominic shooed them off, settled them down, and I started reading again but had to stop. Makayla kept laughing; turns out I was absent mindedly tickling her. Oops. Okay, I stopped tickling her and started reading again. But then Samuel started laughing a lot. Benjamin said, "Stop laughing, Samuel! Stop laughing!" He looked up at us; "I'm tickling him," he said with a big grin. Let's try again. I read quickly, getting a little louder at the end to talk over the rising noise level. At least no one laughed again. Rachel was the first one to get serious, so she got to say the family prayer.

Too many cooks spoil the soup, literally

Last night Dominic came home just as I finished the ham and tortellini soup for dinner. He wanted to show me the Christmas presents he had picked up for the kids. I turned off the stove and followed him upstairs to our bedroom. He locked the door and pulled out the toys. We spent a couple of minutes excitedly discussing what he'd found. Then we went back downstairs.

I had the kids clear off and set the table. I buckled Makayla into her highchair. Then Dominic tasted the soup. It was almost inedible! The herbs I had used were in a different place, and one of them was wet. Benjamin admitted seeing Rachel pull the basil jar out of the pot. It turns out that both Rachel and Elisa "helped" by adding more herbs.

Dominic spent the next ten minutes or so adding cream of chicken soup, leftover broccoli and rice casserole, and anything else that could dilute the herbs. I'm so glad I used the large pot, which could handle the extra volume. We ended up with a very different soup than what I made; it was delicious. I am very grateful for Dominic's culinary talent. He saved dinner!

Black Friday

I have discovered how to take advantage of and enjoy Black Friday sales.
1) Nothing is a must-have.
2) Shop when I feel ready, whether that means staying up all night, waking up early, or sleeping in.
3) Avoid the doorbuster sales by at least one hour to escape all the mobs and craziness.
4) Ask a salesperson: is an item in an unusual place or sold out?
5) Other shoppers are very nice. I have had many conversations with people around me or next to me in line. After all, we're in the same boat.
6) If a store has only one thing I want, it isn't worth going after. Simplify the day by only going to a select few stores.
7) Treat myself to little indulgences, like an occasional candy bar.
8) Leave the kids at home when possible.

Today's stats:
29.5 consecutive hours I was awake
2 times I tried but couldn't sleep
10 o' clock in the morning when the rest of the family joined me
8 stores I visited
3 each of candy bars I ate and sticks of gum I chewed

7 free hot dogs we ate for lunch at The Yard Sale Place

 Why do I do it almost every year? Because I actually like it.

I Am Death

It was a battlefield; a massacre, really. Bodies everywhere. Some stunned, moving oddly. Others mangled. I couldn't walk without stepping on at least one body. As I surveyed the scene around me, gripping the electric bug zapper, I heard more flies buzzing from their hiding place. I ruffled the curtain and two more flies flew out. I chased them down. One escaped to the other room, but I got the second one. It fell, stunned, to the floor. A wing flapped wildly and made it look like a little, black spinning top. I stepped on it. I hate flies. I am the fly slayer!

(I've got to talk to the kids again about closing the back door behind them.)

Unexpected side effect of fishing

As a child Dominic often went fishing with his dad and grandpa. He hadn't been fishing for over 20 years when he picked it up again this summer. It took a little while, but he got the hang of it again. The children are used to Dominic coming home with several blue gill. The other day he called during a break at work, and Elisa asked how many fish he'd caught. Sadly, he hadn't gone fishing that day. The kids like to chase each other around with the fish saying, "Fishy! Fishy!" in growly voices. Even Makayla, at 18 months, runs around growling and laughing with the older kids.

By the time Dominic gets home, the fish are usually dead. Sometimes the fish still try to breathe or weakly flop around until we put them in the freezer. I joke that we should throw them in the pool to keep it as a pet. We never did, until now. Dominic caught a decent sized crappie today. Not only was it still trying to breathe and flop, but it also looked around at us. This time when I said we should keep it, Dominic actually put it in the sink!

Black crappie, our pet fish for the evening

We all watched it throughout the evening. It would swim a couple of laps, float on its side, come up to the surface like it was trying to eat, and then do it all again. The kids loved it. They got so excited every time it swam or waved a fin. Now they really want a pet fish. We told them that it probably wouldn't survive the night (it looked pretty pathetic). After the kids went to bed, we put the poor thing out of its misery and stuck it in the freezer. We also said that we will get a beta or goldfish if they really want a pet fish. Besides, we bought a rabbit a week ago; we don't need another new pet so soon.

Makayla Grace

Makayla is eight weeks old today! She is certainly a welcome addition to our family. Unfortunately I lost the camera cord that uploads pictures, so these are all from the first month.



Getting ready to go home.

Weighing 7 pounds 12 ounces at birth, Makayla was my smallest baby by far. The others, in order of birth weight: Samuel (8 lbs 9 oz), Elisa (8 lbs 10 oz), Rachel (8 lbs 11 oz), and Benjamin (9 lbs), who never could wear newborn clothes.


Samuel does his best to take good care of her when I ask for help. He is very good at calming her down and holding her. I took Makayla into his class, and he was excited to do a little show-and-tell presentation. His teacher also enjoyed holding the baby.








Benjamin will look at her and say, "She's just so cute!" Then he either kisses her a lot, or he grabs the camera to take a picture. I think he has taken more pictures of her than anyone else.

An example of his work:













Lisy loves her baby sister, but she isn't old enough to really take care of her like she thinks she can.









She and Rachel both call her "Mataya," which is just so cute.

Here Rachel is showing me Makayla's mouth.











I love taking Makayla out in public. Since she is so little, we get a lot of sweet comments.










A strange thing I've noticed with each new baby, regardless of where we were living, is people always ask if the baby I'm holding is my first. With Sammy I was surprised that people always knew. Did I look like a first-time mom? Nah, it's just a universal question. Now I just laugh and say, "Nope, she's my fifth!"

Ten years ago in mid-April ...

... Dominic and I went on our first date, though not together.

Matt and I worked together. He asked me out on a double date during finals week. Matt was going to set up his best friend, Dominic, but the girl couldn't make it at the last minute. Dominic didn't want to go as the third wheel, so I offered to ask my sister Ellen to join our date. Dominic agreed, and Ellen decided to come along. Amber, our roommate, also came.

We first went to see the play "Into the Woods." I sat between Matt and Dominic. Matt fell asleep, and Dominic kept making snide remarks about the play and making me laugh. Ellen felt a bit neglected, and I guess Amber just watched the play. Afterwards we went to The Creamery for ice cream cones. Due to this part of the date, it took me ages to remember that Dominic was allergic to milk, because he loves ice cream.

Then we hiked up to the Y. I fell behind, and Dominic fell back to keep me company. I thought he was very nice and considerate, plus he was easy to talk to. It was a huge party up on the Y, with a crowd of people and lots of random music playing; it felt very festive.

On the way back down to the car, Dominic and I intentionally trailed behind the others. At this point I liked him more than Matt. He asked me out before we reached the car. (Later I realized that it was a gutsy move to ask someone out while they are on a date with another person, but I didn't mind.) I informed him that I was leaving immediately after finals to visit my parents for a month, and he said that he would wait for me. Although I had had a good time with him that night, I didn't expect him to remember me. I was wrong.

It was a dark and stormy night,

and we were drifting off to sleep in our warm, dry bed. All of a sudden we heard, "Meow, meow, meow." I reluctantly got up, went downstairs, and opened the back door (directly below our bedroom) to let the cat in from the rain. He wasn't there. So I went and checked the front door. He wasn't there, either.

Back upstairs, the meowing was louder than before. Hm, he must be stuck in the house - it's happened before. So Dominic joined me in checking all the rooms and closets, upstairs and downstairs. Still no sign of that pesky feline. The kids had been playing with the window, and the cat sometimes climbs out onto the roof. I poked my head outside, but no luck.

Convinced that we had looked everywhere, we went back to bed. Just as I was almost asleep again, I heard more urgent meowing, plus scratching. Okay, so the cat was somewhere he didn't want to be and was trying to get out. We got up again and looked in everything again, plus the kitchen cupboards and drawers and any place large enough to hold a cat - even the fridge, just in case. All to no avail.

Honestly it sounded as if the cat was stuck in the wall or attic. How could he have gotten in there? Dominic checked the attic entrances, but they were all shut tight, and we don't have holes in the walls. He went outside to visually check the roof, in case the cat was stuck and couldn't get back to the window. Exhausting every conceivable possibility short of tearing down the walls, we went to bed well after 1 a.m.

By morning there was still no sign of the cat, except for the occasional meowing from the walls or attic. I served breakfast to the kids and Dominic took drastic action. He carried a ladder up to the guest bedroom. The attic access had been caulked shut. Dominic broke the seal and found the cat.

What apparently had happened: the cat had gone out through the broken screen when the kids were playing with the window and was stuck on the roof when we made the kids close the window. He had knocked off a vent cover, which had not been nailed down, and fallen into the attic. Well, he had found a dry place to stay during the rain but couldn't get himself out. For all his efforts, he earned a bath to clean the fiberglass insulation out of his fur.

The final scoreboard:
Cat: +1, for finding a dry place to stay during the rain.
Homebuilders: -2, for the unsecured vent cover and the sealed attic access.
Dominic: Winner! for rescuing the cat and fixing the homebuilders' mistakes.

Song for a Fifth Child

by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton

Mother, oh Mother, come shake out your cloth,
Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
Hang out the washing and butter the bread,
Sew on a button and make up a bed.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She’s up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.

Oh, I’ve grown shiftless as Little Boy Blue
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
(Pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo).
The shopping’s not done and there’s nothing for stew
And out in the yard there’s a hullabaloo
But I’m playing Kanga and this is my Roo.
Look! Aren’t her eyes the most wonderful hue?
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).

The cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,
For children grow up, as I’ve learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust go to sleep.
I’m rocking my baby and babies don’t keep.

Ten years ago ...

... on each Saturday in March, the Cannon Center (BYU cafeteria) held training meetings for the student supervisors and student managers. Mine was the first shift of the day, so I opened the cafeteria and headed over to the meeting. Dominic was always early, and I was usually running late (we haven't changed). Without trying I always seemed to be aware of where he was sitting, usually near the front. Then I did my best to focus on the speaker.

After the meeting there was barely enough time to prepare for the next shift. Let's just say I had a single-minded determinedness to finish up and go home. Unfortunately Dominic tried to talk to me after a meeting. I was annoyed that he kept trying to talk when I didn't have a minute to spare. Couldn't he see me running around? He, on the other hand, couldn't understand why I didn't just let the next shift take care of it.

In the last ten years Dominic has helped me learn how to slow down, relax, and allow others to work.

Christmas in March

Dominic gave me this pot rack for Christmas. Life has been a bit busy, so he just got around to installing it. I love it! It opens up cabinet space and helps divide the kitchen from the dining room. Plus, he found one that matches the dining room chandelier (you can kind of see it from this angle):


The coolest thing about being a homeowner? We can make useful little additions like this, and it's ok!