Hungry

Popcorn is one of my favorite snacks.  I love the sound it makes when all the kernels race each other to the finish line, and then those free radicals that jump out of the bowl after sliding down the chute with their friends.  I love the variety of seasoning options: plain, salty, buttery, kettle corn, taco, cheesy, carmel, jello (I am a Utahan, jello can be used for anything), honey, parmesan, I could go on but you get the idea.

I used to make popcorn in a pot over the stove because it tastes awesome.  You heat a little oil in the bottom for the kernels to bask in until they burst.  Sprinkle salt over top and it's wonderful.  Perfect for eating one snowy white bite at a time or by the handful.

Then my husband bought me an air popper.  It took me a few tries to understand that I didn't have to use melted butter to get the salt to stick, I could use olive oil.  Just drizzle a little over the top of the popped corn, and add salt.  Easy peasey lemon squeezy.

There's just a hiccup, a slight snafu to this arrangement.

Cooked oil smells differently than oil straight from the container.

I have used extra virgin olive oil as my facial moisturizer for several years.  It's all natural, so it doesn't leave a greasy residue, skin soaks it right in.  It's cheap (which I love, as we all know).  And you can buy it anywhere.  I apply twice daily, once in the morning and once before bed.

You see the issue?  Every time I moisturize my face these days I want popcorn.

Metropolis 1927

My husband has a master's degree in film.  That means we get to watch a lot of "different" movies.  The latest in his endeavor to soak up as much culture and celluloid as a human brain can stand, we watched a movie from 1927 called Metropolis.  It's a German film.  The story takes place 99 years in the future, which means it's only twelve years away from where we are now, 2026.

They had machines in this futuristic film, but all of them were manpowered.  Most of the workers in the movie looked like they were dancing with flashing lights rather than doing something productive.

The clock thing is a machine and the guy in black is moving the hands to any bulb that lit up.  It's an integral part of the plot, but we, the watchers, have no idea what he's doing or what will happen when he stops, or why.

Aside from the machines, there was A LOT of heart clenching.

A LOT of heart clenching.

Then, there's a good lady:

the kind that helps children, and calls pretentious snobs her brothers and sisters instead of hating them.  A mad, mad scientist takes that good lady, and through the use of electric circles and a robot, turns her into a bad lady.

The bad lady is identified as separate from the good lady by her dark eyeliner.  Also, the bad lady does a strip tease for dozens of entranced men.  My husband says it's not so much a tease.  He's right.  It's more of a sexy dance.

Let me reiterate: this film was made in 1927.  The good old days with family values and all that.  I've long thought there was no such time and I'm sorry to have been proven right.

The end of the movie is a happy one with the bad lady getting buzzed back to a robot and the heart-clenching guy getting the good girl.  It took 2 1/2 hours and some truly terrifying moments to get us there.

I've been so traumatized by the watching of this film I can't get it out of my head.  So, now you can have it in yours.

Family Ties

This past weekend, I got to hang out with my brothers and sister and their spouses.  Also with my parents.  That's us up there.  (By us, I mean my brothers, sisters, and parents.  No spouses in this one.)  We stayed in a truly ginormous house: ten bedrooms, eight bathrooms, indoor and outdoor pools, two basketball courts.  Big.  But when there are 27 people, I suppose you need a huge house to accommodate.

Since I'm the youngest in the family, I'm used to taking up the leftovers the older siblings didn't want.  Old clothes.  Old hairbrushes.  Old news.  So of course, I didn't get to choose a private bedroom.  My husband and I got to share with my brother and his wife, and my sister and her husband.  My brother snores.  We pushed two twin beds together, so if I snuggled with my husband during the night I was tempting the great divide to suck me in.  It rained.

Aside from all this, it was a fantastic weekend.  We ate and ate and ate.  Then drove and ate some more.  Zion's National Park was beautiful.  The rainy weather brought theclouds down to cover the tops of the mountains, creating contrasts between gray sky and red rocks. Trees at the tippy tops of the cliffs looked like divers preparing to jump.

We laughed a lot.  Over fish tacos, I heard a new favorite joke:

Why did Sally fall off the swing?  Because she didn't have arms.
Knock Knock.  *Who's there?* Not Sally.

*giggle*  I have yet to decide why I think this is so funny.

Saturday morning, we gathered in the cavernous kitchen and said a prayer together, for safety in traveling back home and for gratitude that we all get along and still like each other.  That by itself is pretty amazing.

The last couples' retreat my husband and I went on was ten years ago.  It was worth the wait.

Challenge

In January of 2013, a member of the bishopric asked each young woman in our ward to make a goal to read the Book of Mormon that year.  When he came back this January, only three or four girls had finished the book.  He gave them a three month extension.

That was the first I'd heard of it.  I thought, "What a great idea for the girls," and thought no more about it.

Until last week.

I'd been plodding my way through the Book of Mormon, in Spanish, for a couple of months and while reading one night, I decided I should finish before the deadline given to the Young Women. That leaves one month to read an intense book in another language. One month of taking twice as long to read something as it would in English. Think: reading the New Testament in Greek. Then add my level of intelligence and *ouch* that's math.

I spoke to my husband about it, so he could help me figure out how many chapters I'd need to read every day to pull this off (math again).  He looked at me across the darkened living room, "You could just read it in English."

I gaped at him.  "But then I wouldn't be an over-achiever!"

And over-achieving is sacrosanct.

Venting Like a Frugal Furnace

I'm not intentionally advertising for a certain pharmacy, but I had to display my wares. I went to the pharmacy with certain expectations of how much my medications would cost.  I mean, I had just switched two of my medications from the ones I had used for two years, to ones my insurance company told me they would cover.  So, the price should lower a little.  (Side note: When an insurance company says they're going to cover something, shouldn't it mean they pay for it?  That makes sense, right?)

I picked up my three little baggies full of stuff that keeps me alive and the pharmacist said, "That'll be $500 please."

I nearly had a heart attack, but then I'd have to pay for even more medicine, so I held back.

Five hundred dollars!  And that's not even everything I have to take in a month!  No wonder so many diabetics don't manage their illness.  Who can afford to?

Later, I complained to my mother about it, and she mentioned my brother has to have a shot every month that is $1000, and that's not everything he needs to take either.  I felt a little ungrateful after that.

But in thinking about my brother and myself and our pricey dilemma, I got to thinking.  And here's my conclusion: Socialized medicine is awesome.

Guilt Trip

"Mom!" my son yells to me from his bedroom.  It's after bedtime, so I walk down and open the door.  Tears stain his voice and face.  Ditto for my daughter.  They launch their attack. 

"Mom, will you please pull us out of school?  We hate it!  I can't even say the word butt without getting a card pulled!  I don't have any friends!  We only get 45 minutes for lunch and recess!"

I listen very nicely to their rant about how school is ruining their lives.  For a nano-second, I consider homeschooling again.  Then I come back to my senses.  I'm a slack teacher and they learn squat from me.  They're getting a much better education at school. 

I say, "We committed to going to school for a full year.  You made a commitment.  You will see it through."  Then I clinch it by using every mother's ultimate weapon.  "Tell you what.  Why don't you both pray about it.  When you get an answer, come talk to me."

But there's so much more potential on this one.  I need to infuse a little more guilt.  I need to say more things like, "When I'm tired of cleaning up your messes, do I get to quit cleaning?"  Cause I'm not going to lie, that would be great.  Or "Wow!  You get a whole 45 minutes just to eat and play?  Where do I sign up?" Or "I don't have any friends either.  I'm too busy taking care of you guys."  

Yeah.  I'm not done with this one.

Happy New Year?

Anyone else have after-holiday blues?

I mean, I tried, really, really tried just to roll over and go back to sleep this morning, but I had a little voice in my ear asking me for breakfast and if she could paint and if she could watch a movie.

Good way to start off the new year: blow every last one of my resolutions on the second day.

I actually tried to exercise, but netflix said there was a problem with my account and I CANNOT exercise indoors without having something to watch.  So, there went that good intention down the drain.

It's now 11:00 in the morning.  I haven't eaten breakfast or showered or gotten dressed.  I've been avoiding the mirror all together.  I've grounded myself to my bedroom for the foreseeable future because I got after the kids for not cleaning up after themselves.  What kid DOES?  Good intentions 2-5 gone.

For my next failed good intention, I'm going to blow off writing a feel-good blog.