I've always been an independent person, but that independence was in the setting of security. Patricia Heaton

A little over a week has passed since her first day in a new school. A school which to an eighteen year old looks as gigantic and daunting as that grade school did to the tiny five year old.

And yet the excitement and energy of independence is flowing through her veins as they did some thirteen years ago.

Of my three, she is the child most self-assured. The last of my three babies, the one I hoped to hold the longest was the one who didn't like to be coddled. Wiggle and squirm, until set loose.



Her first episode of autonomy at the young age of six. Bent stick in hand, a bandanna tied to the tip. weighed down by its contents: a change of shirt, underwear, a stuffed animal from the fair, and a can of peas. She stated she was leaving. Brought on by the insistence of a clean room.

She made it as far as one trip around the subdivision block. Home in tears.

Her first day of elementary school, was not to be shared. Not only was I working and she in daycare, she did not need me there. She was all grown up and didn't want the kids to think she couldn't go it alone.

And now, she is a little further than that.

She is independent, she is strong, she is oozing will power and self-determination. And yet-------

She has called nearly every day.

Not because she needs me. She is faring well.

She calls because she wants to share this new step in her life with me.

Among the teasing of her room-mates, about calling home. She calls to share her experience with her best friend. The friend who has been with her and behind her every step of her life. Her mother.

The older she got, the more she cuddled. It could have been the divorce, or just life's challenges but she never lost her autonomy.

I feel blessed. My children turned out ok. I feel proud, they are all upstanding adults. And I feel humbled, they all converse with me on a regular basis- Because they want me to be a part of it all.

Memory is a way of holding onto the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose. ~From the television show The Wonder Years

I hope you are all enjoying some downtime on the long weekend here in the United States.

The weather here has been so bi-polar. Overcast today, rainy tomorrow, and in the seventies next week. My poor water logged garden doesn't know what sunshine is. In my neck of the woods few are swayed by this weather as they head to the mountains and the desert sand for some R&R Rough-in' it and recreation)

My daughters have had to work or we might have taken a short road trip to a small town for lunch, or perhaps a drive down by the lake.

Last year I wrote a post about the true meaning of Memorial Day Holiday.

It certainly takes on a new meaning when you know someone in service. So many sacrificing for us every day.  With low pay and a rare day off for fun. So many Law enforcement, Military, Fire fighters, Secret Service, and so many others sacrificing so much for so little.

Three years ago, my three girls and I drove through nine states to pick my oldest and only son from his basic training camp and bring him home. He graduated on his eighteenth birthday. I was proud and nervous for him. He was a man.

He was also bursting with pride. So much pride he hardly wanted to change out of the uniform. On our three day trip home, it is all he wore. Proudly. No matter where we stopped people shook his hand. Strangers thanking him for his service. He was given many offers. Offers from a free lunch to some strangers own personal information and the promise to be there for my son, for anything, with just a phone call. I tried to hide my emotions. My son beamed.

Some people really GET IT. The sacrifice.

I could not be filled with more pride for my son and the man he has become. But as a mother, I cant help but be a little terrified inside too. Since that road trip, my son has served a tour overseas. He has slept in Hussein's palace. He has walked through Iraqi towns,  an M-16 over his shoulder searching faces for those most wanted.... And for now, he is here in the states, safe.

Some are not so lucky.

Please take a moment to reflect on those sacrifices as you lay safe in your bed.

Then I hope you take a moment to visit the resting spots of those who have gone before. Pick up the phone and call someone you have lost touch with who is still here. What a perfect day for reflection.

Thank you for reading.

Evening wear

Thank goodness for a family that sews.
My mother worked in a sewing plant for 10+ years before returning to school when I, myself was in Jr high school. Piece rate work was tough but she was fast and made pretty good money. Easily sewing hundreds of pieces a day.

She taught my sister and I to sew long before we were old enough to take home ec. in school ourselves. I sewed an entire micro beach house closet full of fashion for Barbie and Ken. I sewed many of my own clothes and later sewed clothes and blankets for my own children.

Of my mothers four sisters,  three of them also worked in sewing plants. They are all great with a sewing machine. My mother is the oldest of the five girls. Three of the four of them still sew often. Elaborate Halloween costumes, darling summer capris, and darling outfits for the grand babies and great grand babies.

Luckily, My aunt Diane is recently retired. She was the one who created my wedding dress oh so many years ago...  And she was so sweet to help us out.

We purchased a pattern, some fabric and she created this fabulous dress for my daughters pageant.

Of course, I think my baby is gorgeous. And being a size 3 helps her a little. But Check her out!

The pageant is this Saturday and she has been working her tail off!

Up hours before school starts to practice for and rehearsals for an upcoming school play. A full day of senior year classes. Then two or three hours per evening of directing the rehearsals for her own profile project.

There have been obstacles for sure. Many who could not also handle the double performance/ rehearsal schedule have dropped from her cast. She has had conflicts with the schedule on the venue, and a friend standing in as her right hand man also dropped out.

But she is standing strong, she has not stressed about it. They will be holding a meeting today to see if they are able to still pull together a full cast and continue on. If not, she has plans in place to conduct a school talent show with the proceeds still submitted to her charity.

Wow! I could not be more proud. At eighteen I am not sure I would have the strength, initiative nor the willpower to pull of the play in the first place. But to rearrange and adapt so quickly and undeterred just amazes me.

The pageant will be held this Saturday. Just a mere four days from now.

Every weekend for her is filled with mock interviews, dance number practices, learning to walk like a pageant queen and practicing with her 'little miss'.

Each contestant was asked to find a small girl between the ages of four and ten who will be walking with her, and also performing in part of a dance number with her on stage. My daughter's little miss is a friend of her best friends, a petite four year old girl. Although she was born with down syndrome, she is one of the best performers in the show. She is so excited!

Every night this week my daughter has gone to bed early. She wakes up extra early to complete homework assignments then she is off for the day.

Through all of this (male readers who are squeamish may want to skip this bit) the stress has caused her period to get all out of whack. She has had a period on and off all through this crazy month.

Here is hoping that everything goes back to normal after this month.

I am hoping she wins the queen crown. She certainly deserves it for the effort if nothing else.

But no matter if she places or not, what a great experience and wow what an accomplishment!

Break a leg baby!--- well, you know what I mean.

Me? A Pageant mother?

It is true.

No, I am not sending a toddler out onto the stage in full on makeup and adult dance moves prey to the child predators.

My youngest daughter who just turned eighteen much to the heartache of her mother, is running for Miss Strawberry days.

I admit, the thought of girls parading up and down the stage to be ogled by the audience is a bit unnerving. However the benefits of the program surpass any uneasiness.
For a single mother, a scholarship for a daughter is a big deal.

In addition to the pageant event, the girls are required to create a platform. Despite the confusing title, a platform is a chance for the girls to get creative and come up with their own activity which will get them motivated to service, and potentially help them to raise funds for a charity of their choice.
It is such a great project.
One girl will be tutoring illiterate children and adults.

My daughter, has taken on a huge challenge.
In the next month, just two months prior to her high school graduation, she will be directing, producing, and presenting a small community play. All proceeds to be offered to handicapped individuals, more specifically the Special Olympics.

She will be auditioning, directing and creating the set and stage for a cute little play that she herself wrote.

I was nervous. She has had history of procrastination, of leaving tasks incomplete. But so far, she has impressed me. The scripts are written, edited and copied. She has already made arrangements for the venue, the props and the costumes.
Auditions will be held tomorrow and then the practices will begin.

She is a beautiful girl, inside and out but I could not be more proud of her initiative and organization.

The most amazing thing is that this will all be concurrent with graduation, a drama club performance of 'Children of Eden' and all the other activities that fall into your last few months of high school.

And, unlike most pageants and children's productions and activities, it didn't cost us an arm and a leg in order to win a small scholarship.

I wish her luck in the pageant, of course I think she is the most beautiful, and talented of the bunch. But the benefits she gets from this go well beyond the scholarship money.
I could not be more proud.

It is not over

I imagine there will be all sorts of blog posts in the blog-o-sphere about 9/11/2001 today. Many who were involved in the attacks either as victims, loved ones of victims or personnel who aided those victims.
I live very far from the terrorists targets (thus far) and cannot even fathom the pain, the sheer terror or the devastation of that day 9 years ago.
Nine years, that sounds a lifetime ago and yet it seems like yesterday.

But I still remember where I was and how it made me feel.

At the time my mother and I worked for the same company but in two different departments. We were just pulling into work in her car and heard the announcement that a plane had just run into one tower of the trade center.

I have not traveled to New York and to be honest, I had no idea what the World Trade Center was. It was scary. My first thought, as many others possibly concluded, was that a pilot had fallen asleep or faulty equipment on the plane and how scared those on board might be. We had yet to see any images.

We went into the building and there were radios playing all over. The somber looks of co-workers gave an eerie feeling. A television was wheeled into the department just in time to see the second plane hit. We were miles away from the terror and yet scared just the same.

The rest of the terror unfolded as the day went on and eventually it was playing over the loud speaker for all of the company to hear.

I wondered where my children were, if they were aware of the devastation. Was it all explained as I would have. And how would I. Were they scared? Were they confused? I was.

When we left the building to grab some lunch that day, it was a strange feeling. The skies were dead. No planes flying over. The whole world seemed different.

I thank god that I was not closer to the horror of that day. But it affected us all. It was a direct hit in the gut of our country. It put a tear in our veil of safety and freedom here on US soil.

And although my son had not yet thought of joining the armed forces, it brought the perilous fight a little closer to our own shores once again.

September 11th 2001 was terrifying, no matter where you live. It should never be forgotten.
And this fight is far from over.

Hugs to you all. Hold your loved ones a little longer today. And no matter where you were, don't lose sight of the feelings you felt on that day. And hope we never have to feel them again.

-Remembering where I was 9 years ago today, when I heard. So glad my mother was there with me. It felt as though world war 3 had begun. Just a small small taste of the fear of the targets of the terror. It's also a glimpse of the everyday lives of those fighting terror in the face today. Remember that day, feeling in your gut and remember it is far from over.
Hug and tell your loved ones you love them. I love you all.- My facebook post today

A favorite appetizer - Thanks mom

My mother was a working girl most of my life. She set a great example for my sister and I as she juggled us, work, housekeeping and getting dinner on the table. Often she would attend pot-luck lunches at the office and I remember many a night she would create these little wonders the night before.

I am sure that most of you have eaten a cream puff at some time in your life, this is a savory version:


If you like savory over sweet... and want rave reviews at your next office party, pot-luck, or dinner party, try this one out!

Shrimp Puffs

First you need to create the puffs for filling. 
(This is the same recipe as you would use for cream puffs and these can be filled with so many fillings, the sky is the limit.)
I will start with puffs and in my next post, the fillings.


This part moves quickly so it is a good idea to read through the first few tasks before beginning.

In a large saucepan, bring 1 c. water, 1/2 c. (1 stick) butter and 1/4 t. salt to a boil. 

Add 1 c. flour all at once and stir until a smooth ball forms.
















Remove from the heat; let stand for 5 minutes.

Add 4 eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition. 






Continue beating until mixture is smooth and shiny.






Drop by rounded teaspoonfuls 2 in. apart onto greased baking sheets. 

Bake at 425° for 15 minutes or until golden brown.  Reduce heat to 375° for an additional 15 min.

Remove from oven and immediately split puffs open. Turn oven off and return puffs to warm oven to dry about 20 min. Remove to wire racks.


Then fill:


Tomorrow I will give some great savory filling suggestions. Including my mothers yum-o Shrimp filling.

Growing up is tough. And on my teenage daughter too.

The night after my daughter arrived in Texas, after our long rough day getting her there, she had an even harder night. When she arrived, the bulk of the group was still out selling and she waited at the apartment of one of the girlfriends.
This was not so bad even though she did not know the woman. Later that night her boss invited her to play volleyball with the guys but my daughter was a bit intimidated by the twenty or so men who were all in their mid twenties. So she watched.
She was shown to what would be her apartment with one other girl, but one who had been fired or quit the day before was still there. Three girls is never a good number. They did their thing and she did hers.
She really felt like a fish out of water, everyone in their 20’s and she only barely 18. My own first cousin was there. He as well as a few of the workers had girlfriends’ to occupy their time.
She text me and said she wasn’t expecting to have fun there and she knew it would be hard work but that it really was not what she was expecting. She did not like it there. – Can’t say I blame her.
Her first day on the job was made worse when she climbed into the boss’s car which was to take them to the neighborhood where she would shadow him until she got the hang of selling on her own. She climbed in the front next to him and the others filed into the back…except the bosses daughter... in a fit of rage she made it clear she hated the back seat. And although the boss, her boyfriend said it was not that big of a deal, it certainly made my daughter feel horrible.
There are always growing pains, at a new job. I know too well having recently started a new job. However, of all the jobs I have held in my life, not once did I spend more than a day before someone asked me how I was catching on and if they could assist me in learning the ropes…
And her was my baby, freshly 18, 1300 miles from the only home she has known. In an apartment with nothing but a bed, crying. Telling me she wants to come home and absolutely nothing I can do about it! That is tough on a Mother! I have been in her shoes! I am turning 40 this year and I still get homesick.

“Never let go of hope. One day you will see that it all has finally come together. What you have always wished for has finally come to be. You will look back and laugh at what has passed and you will ask yourself... 'How did I get through all of that?” - 'The Wonder Years' (1988)

It has to be a shock. To go from a house, with a stocked refrigerator, washing machine, Television, friends down the street, and all the other ‘perks’ to completely dependent on a ride to the store, no one to talk to except calling the home you wish you were at….
My daughter is not spoiled, she is a darn hard worker, she is just scared and alone and homesick.
I don’t think she will make it long. We decided that she would finish through the end of the month, see how it goes. (If she comes home early, we are responsible for her travel, and well, that is a lot of money for a single mom). Her brother will be driving home from Kansas the first of the month, we may just have to reroute his trip… I actually think that would be a great time for the two of them if they did make the road trip together.
We will see.

Road Trip!!!!!

In the next few weeks, the third born of my mothers 4 younger sisters, Karen, will be turning 60. So her husband Jim and her daughter Summer, planned a huge surprise party with guests from 300+ miles. My younger daughter was attending an acting/ thespian workshop that weekend (more on that later) so it was a road trip for just my older daughter and I.

Some people hate driving....I am not one of them. Maybe it is because I am stir crazy this time of year. Or that we have not been able to afford many trips and road trips have often become our vacations. Or maybe it is just that I love the open road.

My children always behaved well in cars. Many a Sunday my ex husband and I would set up a makeshift 'bed' in the back of our explorer (before seat belts were law) and pick a small town on the map and drive. We saw so many things in those days. We would crank up the radio, cassettes, then CD's to favorite music and belt it all out karaoke style with the kids.

Well, this weekend was no different. We quickly packed on Friday afternoon, gassed up the truck, grabbed a soda and hit the road. Some funny things happened...

First stop, Gas fill up. Not too unlikely, however, a good friend of my mothers and of mine, Tina happened to be at the next pump... quick hello, status updates on ailments and job status, a request to tell my parents hello and we were off.

Silly us, we forgot to get a drink, pulled into station number two... a friend of my daughters is there with her new husband. - more updates.. fill our cups and we are on the road again.

Driving and singing- well to most of the songs- my daughters Ipod has quite an interesting mix. We were two girls on the road- ready to face what life would bring. Ready for warmer weather- in more ways than one!

I was so proud of her! She made it a good 212 miles before she had her bladder moment. Usually she waits until she is about to burst before she tells me to pull over, by the time we get to a town that would have services, she resembles the woman in the incontinence ads... gotta go right now!

The small town that we pulled over into just happens to be the town that my childrens grandparents and two aunts live in. Their fathers family. I am not a bitter divorcee and I get along well with his family, however we had not planned to stop in to see them on this trip. The trip was a short one, I had not seen my parents in months and we just didn't have time. I tend to run at the mouth and if we stopped... well lets just say, we wouldn't have made it to our destination.

As I waited for my daughter to run in and use the facilities, I was a bit humored by the small town character, and characters. There is a whole different kind of person who lives on a farm or ranch and gets to town only once in a while. Granted, there were people of all walks in this store that day. But some of them, I'm just not sure that they knew other people could see them... ratty hair, dirty overalls, some looked as though they were headed out to catch them a bear. - OK I will be nice from here on.... I promise!

A cute couple stepped out of the station, and I noticed them right away, they looked more like the city folks I was accustomed to. Then, I saw him! The male of the couple was my own ex-brother-in-law and my exes sister. Getting into the car parked in the next stall... what are the chances of that? We chatted for a moment, caught up a little until my daughter came out. Seems that they were headed to the same place we were (just an hour from their place) for a seminar. We had a good chuckle and set off again.

The weekend was a blast! Texas hold 'em on Friday night- until way passed my bed time.

Then the party on Saturday.
What a great time!












We have the kind of extended family that gets along well. We laugh and joke, and love each other dearly. My daughter had to babysit that night as it was an adult only party but she made out like a bandit and loves to babysit anyway.

On Saturday we went shopping at a vintage furniture store. They had the most amazing fun stuff in there. Good thing I'm out of work or I may have bought more than I did...which was nothing. Who would think that we would find a used but pristine pair of black Prada boots in downtown St.George... too cool! (didn't buy them either). We walked down the street to a tiny little used book store. I love love used bookstores. There were some awesome finds in there also. A small poem book of Robert Frost poems copyright 1920's. Another book of 'love stories' they were called, were also poems copyright in the 1800's. Beautifully written. I would have loved that book, just didn't have the $23.00. Another book that caught my eye was an old Dr. Seuss book also from the 1920's.

A small 'learn to draw' book I found interesting as it showed the difference between the 1920's and the present day. Pictures of little girls always in cute little dresses and boys with suspenders. Mom did buy me one book, Speaking of Operations by Irvin S. Cobb. Which seems (based on the few pages we browsed) to be a hilarious account of one man's view of surgery. and since this was written copyright 1915, I can imagine it is quite a tale to tell. I have not yet read the first page but I shall keep you posted.

The weather was great, in the 70's. It was nice to feel free of our heavy coats for a short time. It sure helped to take the job hunt off my mind for a couple days. No worries, no stress. But it was all short-lived. Sunday morning we went to breakfast with two of my aunts and their husbands, then we packed it up, hugged mom and dad goodbye, and headed home.

Here are some photos of the trip home. That is Mt. Nebo in the distance, very near our destination- Home.

Waiting at home was my younger daughter, some Superbowl Bingo, a very close and sweet football game, some really bad for us appetizer-like foods, some comfy sweats, some young teenage boys company, and then bed.
All-in-all great time to clear my head.

Cooler weather calls for Stew

When we were children, I don't recall my mother having a dislike for any foods. I found out later in my adult life that there were a few things that she didn't like, but she never told us. This made us both quite hearty eaters. Rarely did we complain about the food we were served, and honestly, I cant think of a reason to complain about it. My mother was/is a great cook and I learned at a very young age many of her cooking tips and recipes. I have passed on both of them, and the joy of cooking and food to my children also.

My mother grew up in the same small town that I now live and my children have spent the majority of their lives in. She was the oldest of five daughters born to my grandparents. Grandma was a homemaker and Grandpa was a body/fender man. The years of my mothers childhood, were hard times. Times of war. Where grandpa himself would have been, if not for a fellow soldier mis-firing his rifle and hitting grandpa in the head in basic training no less. He survived, was given an early medical discharge and sent back home.
But post war times were tough on the economy, and feeding a family of seven on a single white collar income was not easy. Many times, grandma would ask the butcher in town, for the parts of the cow that many butchers would just throw out. Parts that are often found these days to be delicacies... the best cuts. She would often get them for little or no charge and knew how to 'make something out of nothing' really.

Although my mother wasn't too impressed with a lot of those cuts, one recipe stuck with her. This one was a favorite of ours growing up. My mother has passed it on to my sister and I. It is a darn good thing that I didn't know what an oxtail was when I was little. Or at least I never put it together that an oxtail was in fact, an Ox's (or cows) tail. Or I may never have been able to coerce my own stomach into even tasting the stew. But Whoo eeee. It is good eatin'!

I remember making this stew for my now ex husband, he liked it. I thought I had made it for my kids also, but they swear they don't remember. I also recall the oxtails themselves being the cheapest cut of meat at the market... not so anymore!

Oh well, here is my recipe as I made it Sunday.

First, I browned the meat (6lbs- this sounds like a lot but they are half bone) on all sides in a skillet. In my experience, the smaller the bone, the sweeter and more tender the meat. However, if they are too small, there is no meat at all.

I bought two packages that had a mixture of many sizes as that was all they had at the time.

Next, chop up one medium onion white or yellow, your choice.
10 carrots also cut into bite sized pieces, I used a bag of baby carrots, less chopping. Add them to the onions. This can all be stewed in a large pot, until tender but I used a slow cooker.

Then I added the meat on top of the vegetables.

Pour in two cans of tomato soup. I used one carton of tomato basil. I think I may try substituting a can of diced tomatoes in place of the soup sometime. But it will need something to thicken it up. I love to mix-up my recipes once in a while. It is sometimes necessary when you are on a limited budget but then, that is how I invented some of my best creations. But this time, I did it as mother intended.

Pour one quarter cup of granulated sugar over the soup.

Then Two cups of water.

Season with good ol' stan d-by's salt and pepper.

Then sit back and relax, or head off for work, or get some cleaning done, or leaves raked. Simmer covered for 3 1/2 hours. No need to stir. (In the slow-cooker, I let them go for 5 hours and it was just right.)

Our Dog, blackjack helped

With the waiting part.

When there are only about 20 minutes left to simmer, boil some water and cook your choice of noodle, Mom uses large egg noodles (I chose some vegetable induced egg noodles) al dente'. (still a little firm)

And pour right into the stew.

and serve it up!

I think that mine could have simmered just a little longer, the meat was tough. When done right, this stew makes the sweetest, most tender, fall off the bones meat. Like little mini ribs.

If you can get your mind past the origins of the meat. You will not be disappointed with this dish.

And on a day like this,

curl up with your warm Labrador dog,

eat some oxtail stew

and re-live your childhood. Like mine when we would cuddle with a blanket over the heat vents in the floor and let the warm air create a warm bubble of warmth...aaahhhh to be a kid again.

I think I want to curl up with some leftover soup. Thanks mom!

Tip: If your fingers and hands smell of onion or garlic after you chop them, (As mine are prone to do the following day, and more)
Just cut a lemon in half and rub onto the smelly surface. In a pinch, lemon juice works as well. ta-da odor is gone!

Busy Teenagers- Smelly Dogs

Things are quite busy around the house lately and we just dont seem to have enough wheels. My son is gone to Alabama attending some military training in EOB (Explosive Ordnance Disposal, or a fancy shmancy name for bomb squad). http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Explosive_Ordnance_Disposal
Right now it is a bit like college for him, sitting in a class room all day- once in a while a field trip to, well, the fields. There have been exercises where he dons a suit much like the underwater aparatus of outer space movies from the 50's and they complete maneuvers and tasks. I am not quite sure if these maneuvers are so that the seargents can have a good laugh for the day or if they actually serve a purpose. But if it makes my sons military career any safer, Im all for a little humiliation.

While my son is gone to training, his first car, a blue chevy cavalier, sits in my driveway. My oldest daughter has had a drivers license for about a year and a half now and yet, car at her disposal, I am left with three choices. Option one, hand over the keys to my car, and stay at home for the evenings she works; Option two, I keep the car, use it as I need, then drop it off to her and walk home the three or four blocks; or option three, take her to work (or let her walk) then drive back at 11pm to pick her up. We have done all of these.

You may be wondering why she does not take the perfectly good car her brother left here? Because it is a standard transmission, and although she has been trained by my son and I on numerous occasions, she just cannot get the hang of driving with a clutch. So the car sits. I suppose it is for the better, as the car comes up for inspection this month and needs some brakes, tires and --- a horn, cannot pass inspection in Utah without a functioning horn, is this why Utahans insist on using theirs for the stupidest reasons?

So, we are left with a dilemma, she is extremely frustrated at her current fast food job. I have to agree with her on the point that family run businesses are not always the best to work for. She applied last night at a local best buy (where previously mentioned Jake, and his father both work) and the pay is approx. $2 more an hour, there are a few open positions. It sounds like it would be a pretty good fit for her, answering phones and customer service, with her personality she will do fine. Problem_! it is not a few blocks, it is 5 miles. This may turn out to be work, on my part. she seems to think that Jake can teach her what her brother and i were not able to ....
I'll keep you posted.

Other events, the Shakespeare festival group http://www.bard.org/competition/index.html Rachel will be competing with will perform their rendition for the school and parents this Friday night, as the parents will not be able to go to Cedar city with them, I am looking forward to that showing. Both girls work Saturday night, and then all next week the school will hold homecoming week festivities. I am still not sure if Chantel will run as the homecoming nominee from the color guard group or not. I hope she does. She may never get another opportunity. The week after that, Rachel will be in Cedar City at the competition. Life is never boring in our household. Oh! and Rachel had her first night on the driving range, turns out she isn't a natural. ugh.

So you may be wondering what I will be doing with all that spare time in between chauffeuring these girls around town. Well, I will be tending to the house, the yard, and well, the dogs will be getting a bath tonight as I was awaken in the night by a horrendous odor. It was dark and I was half-asleep but I swear there had to be a green and grey cloud hovering above my bed. One of the dogs, or maybe both of them have rolled in something. I swear sometimes I feel like I am raising 5 children... or animals.