Want to Hear Something Creepy?

I used to work for Kevin Garn at Pegasus records when I was in high school. I didn't see him every day. He owned several stores so he only came into ours occasionally. Hearing about his underage girlfriend/employee/Sunday school student really made me sick. Then it made me feel like I dodged a bullet. There but for the grace of God. . . . Am I getting a standing ovation yet?

My sister, who managed the store, never liked him. But I can't say that I got any kind of bad vibe from him. Well, that's not true. I did get a pervy vibe from him. But I got pervy vibes from everyone. That's how I decided who to date, apparently. Hehehe. Just a little joke there about my bad taste in boyfriends up until I met and married Christian Faulconer.

I remember Kevin Garn came in one Saturday and it was very busy. We'd gotten these new-fangled stereos that were operable with a remote control. It was basically other worldly, if you can imagine. Young Guns II had just come out and the soundtrack was, in a word, incredible. We used to start the CD remotely when unsuspecting customers approached the stereos. It would say, "Yoohoo, I'll make you famous!" Boy did it freak people out. Check out the trailer to hear the infamous words yourself. So anyway Kevin Garn came in and we had to quit goofing around. He had defective merchandise to switch out and resell!

See more about my job history here, here, and here.

Obvious Tips for Not-Very-Good Homemakers

I'm starting this new feature on my blog. It's where I give tips that are obvious to good homemakers but useful to homemakers (such as myself) who are not very good. I am not a very good homemaker. Sure I love my husband and am a good mother to my kids, but I'm not naturally tidy, I don't enjoy cooking, I ruin all crafts, and I have no garden. I love the idea of all this stuff and I do try. I even go through phases of being more and less "into" various homemaking arts. But I have no affinity for it and that is the truth.

And if you'll allow me one digression before I get on with the tips I'd just like to say that I find nothing more depressing--nothing more truly disheartening--than a discussion of a woman's divine role that includes cooking and cleaning.

And now, some tips. These are serious tips and I hope they help. If they strike you as obvious that's good news for you--you are probably better than not very good. You should write more advanced tips for the rest of us.

• An expert housewife will know the prices of everything so she can tell if something at the grocery store is on sale. I wish I had this information, but it eludes me. Here's something that is easy to remember: Stock up on pasta and jars of spaghetti sauce when they are 99 cents. That's not a bad price and you can remember it. Maybe you like to make sauce from scratch--good. So do I. Even not-very-good homemakers can make sauce from scratch. But you still need the jars and here's why: With pasta and a jar of sauce you can make a meal with one hand. It won't be the best spaghetti you've ever had but it is often surprisingly delicious and when you are carrying a screaming baby and can't mince garlic or even manage the can opener, you will thank me.

• The following recipe is very, very good and even famous among foodies for it's simple deliciousness. It is basically a one-hand meal--but you do have to use the can opener (which I can't do while holding a baby) and cut an onion in half (which is much more feasible than chopping it). Simmer a 28 oz can of whole tomatoes (Muir Glenn are some of the best you'll find. They never go on sale, but you should buy cans of them anyway) with 5 tablespoons of butter and an onion that is peeled and cut in half. Then cook it on low for 45 minutes. Stir occasionally and crush the tomatoes against the side of the pan. Throw away the onion and salt the sauce. Serve it with cooked pasta. You'll be surprised at how good it is. Let me know if you want an even more awesome and gourmet pasta recipe that includes bacon. (Ouch! Bacon grease burns baby's legs.)
  

• Another thing to buy on sale is those cans of crescent rolls. I can't remember what a good price is but if there is a sign by them that says "sale," get some. And get hot dogs to keep in the freezer. Maybe these items disgust you. That's OK. They're not for you. They're for your kids in two specific situations: 1) You've had an awful day so your husband is bringing home dinner for you but not the kids because you are too poor to buy them all salads from Cafe Rio. You make "pigs in a blanket" which are more festive than hot dogs and seem like a treat. 2) Your 12 year old has friends over around dinner time and you want to be a fun mom and feed them but you sort of begrudge ordering pizza for the whole gang so you make "pigs in a blanket" for them or even let them make their own--it's hard to mess up. You wrap the hot dog in the roll and put it in the oven at 350 for 12 minutes. I actually think pigs in a blanket taste good. But the main reason to have this on hand is that those crescent rolls are made almost entirely out of preservatives whereas the hot dog buns you might think about keeping in the freezer for these two specific occasions will get stale eventually. There will be times when you don't begrudge ordering your kids pizza. In this case, just go ahead and do it. But still: keep the pigs at the ready. And if you never begrudge it? I guess you're better than not-very-good. Congratulations!
  

• If you have a gallon of milk that is going to go bad in a day or two and you know there is no chance of it being consumed, it's a good idea to make a bunch of pudding with it. You can make instant pudding but what I like to do is make rice pudding. Everyone in my family hates it except for me, so it's almost not worth the trouble, but my mom made it for us and for my grandpa when we were growing up and I think it is a real treat. It is at least a good way to use up milk before it goes bad and there may come a day when you have to take a meal to an old person and this will be just the thing. Take 3/4 cup rice and 1/2 cup sugar and stir it up with a handful of raisins and some milk until the sugar dissolves. Then pour in more milk (1/2 gallon) to fill up a a big glass bowl. Give it a dash of nutmeg and cook it at 350 degrees for about an hour, stirring occasionally. It's done when it is browned on top. If this recipe sounds gross to you it probably will be gross to you. I love it--especially for breakfast. And milk on the verge of going sour is transformed into a treat that will last for a week in the fridge (especially at my house because no on eats it but me). You can use normal fresh milk, of course. (But, I mean, that's REALLY obvious.)

• And one final tip, remember: Toast is a meal. Anyone who disagrees with this doesn't deserve dinner. Don't believe me? Ask a Brit.
  

I hope you find these tips helpful! Like I said, it is going to be a new feature on my blog and I will keep these obvious tips for not-very-good homemakers coming. Please share your best obvious tips in the comments.

The Best Thing About Blogging

Sometimes I get jealous that I don't get a lot of money or free stuff for blogging. But in my heart of hearts I don't care about that stuff and I love blogging. I love blogging because it gets me to write.

I have always thought I should be a writer. Before I could read or write, I had this notion of creating a series of children's stories called the Hush-a-Bye Pea Stories. In grade school teachers always told me I could be a writer. But they say that to anyone who can't draw and is dumb at math, so you can't go by them. One of my best childhood memories--and I have a freakishly vivid memory of my childhood--was a writing assignment in 4th grade. That's the year you learn Utah History. I wrote in the voice of fur trapper Jim Bridger. I said, "Yee-haw!" and talked about meeting up with Father Escalante to retrieve a cache of furs. It was good and I was proud of it. It wasn't copied out of the encyclopedia like all of my other "writing."

There was only one good thing I wrote all through high school. It was a story for English in 10th grade, which my teacher thought was really funny. I don't think it's actually good writing. The funniness of it relies on a story I heard in Sunday School about a boy who used to get to church early to hide his feet under the pews because he had to wear nurse's shoes. So maybe it's not timeless or universal in it's themes. But still. It's those teacher comments in red pen that stay with you. In this case, "Hilarious!"

The only other memorable writing I did before I started my blog was a paper I wrote as a graduate student. It was a personal narrative and my teacher loved it. He said, "Excellent voice! Inviting, while at the same time keeping the reader at bay." I loved that. I still love that. It's exactly what I want to do--invite people in while keeping them at bay. I also remember a comment from a different teacher in graduate school: "Do you even know how to write a paper?" So, mixed reviews in college.

There is a bit of awful writing in the form of a comment I wrote on one of my student's papers several years ago. I hate to even tell you about it because I am so embarrassed of myself for saying it. I think the paper was about a forest fire and when I was grading it there was a fire up in the mountains. I wrote conversationally in red pen, "As I write this, I'm watching as a fire rages up Y Mountain. . . blah blah." BLEK! I really hate myself for saying that. Rages? It's not so horrible, I guess--but I would NEVER say it in real life and (here's the worst part) I only said it because it sounded like something a writing teacher would write. So I did. Gag. I regret it.

For the most part I don't regret my blog posts. And if it weren't for blogging I would write nothing. My husband thinks I am funny and awesome in my blogs so it lets me get away with being just a bit more schleppy and drab in real life. I think this is the case, too, with a few other people who read my blog and know me in real life. So that is a plus. It also gives me something to talk about with other people who blog. Blogging is a good topic--it's almost completely effortless for me to talk about it.

One of the best perks of blogging, however, is the people I've met through blogging. I have good friends who have nothing to do with blogging of course, but my best friends all read my blog and like it and talk about it. And most of the best friends I have now I met through blogging. That is, I didn't even know them until we started reading each other's blogs and now we know each other and are friends. It's a pretty good thing for me. I don't make friends easily, at least not friends I really like. I've been blogging since 2004. That's six years! It's longer than high school. And many people have lifelong friends they met in just four years of high school (lest you think blogfriends don't endure).

It was through my blog that an editor from Parents Magazine found me and asked me to write for them which is WONDERFUL and AMAZING and makes me feel fancy and great and even like a legitimate writer for a few seconds until I remember how Mr. Rutter wouldn't let me into Creative Writing when I was a senior because, well, there's really no nice way to say this--I wasn't good at writing (that's when I learned not to try for things) and of course the whole, "Do you even know how to write a paper?" (See above.) Actually, I have Design Mom to thank for the Parent's gig because she referred them to my blog. There again, bloggity blogness making the world go round. PS: I know Gabby in real life and we go way back. So don't bug her and try to get her to get Parents Magazine to hire you. I DON'T NEED THE COMPETITION. I DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW TO WRITE A PAPER.

And finally there is something so dear to me that I almost hate to write about it--but since it is St. Patrick's day and all--it is through my blog that I met and began a correspondence with my beloved Frank Delaney. And by "meeting" and "corresponding with" I mean that I "regularly take advantage of his politeness" on "Facebook, Twitter, and e-mail." But it doesn't matter! It makes me happy. I wrote blogs about his books (because they are good and I like them) which he, apparently, read. Or heard about. Or maybe it was a fluke. Or maybe it's a joke. Whatever the case, he humors me. And to get an LOL out of Frank Delaney every now and then is a real treat. A real treat. Thank you, blogging.

So I love blogging. Do you love blogging? Does blogging sometimes leave you cold? Ever wish you got more free stuff as a result of blogging? Well my friend, try using your blog as a vehicle for stalking. You won't be sorry. THEY'LL BE SORRY. THEY'RE THE ONES WHO'LL BE SORRY.

Maniacal laughing.

The end.

(Hey Conan O'Brien, Google yourself much? Welcome to my blog. Mind if I add you as a "friend"?)

I'm So Nice to Babies

Look how nice I am. I give babies onesies. I'm always getting bad press for being a hater but there you have it. I gave a baby a onesie.

Here is a list of kids' shows I do hate though:

Sid the Science Kid--This is THE worst show ever. The mom on it is so desperate and lame it hits a little too close to home and I can't bear to watch her sing/rap, "Mom is so awesome. But now it's time. To go to school. " Sid himself is the epitome of everything I hope my children are not. This show is not allowed.

Caillou--Guess what Caillou! You're retarded.

Clifford--Everyone on this show is a big self-centered jerk. There is proven evidence that shows like this teach kids to be big jerks. My librarian used to read us Clifford books every week in kindergarten. It was OK, if somewhat vapid. The cartoon fails for Emily Elizabeth's voice alone. Emily Elizabeth if you keep talking like that and refuse to go by just "Emily" no one will like you in high school--also a proven fact.

Dragon Tales--Hyperactive, supersensitive, obnoxious, selfish, and dumb--this describes Zack, Cassie, Weezie, Max, and Ord. What's good about this show? And that Quetzal! He makes me sick to look at him with his moles and sagging skin.

Mickey Mouse Clubhouse--It beckons with the unimaginative, "Come inside it's fun inside" and goes downhill from there.

And I don't like Curious George either. Why? Because I find him insufferable. Here's what I'd like the man with the yellow hat to say, "No, George. Stop it. Don't touch that. Get down." Why should I humor him? He's a monkey.

Those are the worst ones I can think of.

Looking Down and Staring at Trees--Memories from Childhood

Sometimes when I look down and actually pay attention to what I'm seeing (it's rare because I'm usually yelling at my kids and don't know what's going on around me) I will be struck with major deja vu or nostalgia. When I see an old gray asphalt street it feels so familiar. It's like seeing an old friend. Sometimes this happens with sidewalks, too. I looked down a lot as a kid, I guess.

Design people always talk about adding texture and pattern to a room. I hardly notice texture or pattern now. But I can remember the texture of all the carpet in the house where I grew up. There was quite a variety, as sculpted carpet was the style. We even had a carpet rake. I can also recall really specific textures of trees which I not only played in a lot but just sat and stared at. I could see the tops of our trees from school. My house was surrounded on three sides by orchards: pear and cherry. We never played in the pear orchards because we were scared of the Indians who lived and worked there. (Whaaa?) I never once ate a pear. My mom didn't buy pears and I don't think I ever ate a pear that wasn't canned until after college. I did eat a lot of cherries. For Christmas I would go out and chop a big branch off a pine tree on the edge of the orchard, stick it in a milk carton in my room, and decorate it. I would hate it if kids did that to my property now. It would make me mad.

Between the two cherry orchards was a place we called the "junk yard." Thinking back on it, I have no idea what it really was or where it came from. There were abandoned wooden shacks and many other oddly-shaped outbuildings. It seemed like the remains of a farm. And yet, one of the buildings was stuffed full to the roof with Styrofoam. Another building was full of yards and yards of thick rubber stuff that would maybe be used around windows or screen doors. It could be used as rope. There were also piles of metal pipes and hinges which were good for pretend guns. And there was a toilet. One of the buildings was an outhouse. I used it in emergencies. There were metal buckets full of rusty nails. Isn't that weird? There were also grapevines and beehives.

Now all the orchards are gone and in their place, McMansions. I live in a McMansion so I can't complain. In fact, my McMansion encroaches on the woods where my husband played as a kid. We cursed all the houses going up on this street just as I cursed all the houses going up around my old house. Then we bought one--better us than somebody else, we reasoned. My kids get to play in my husband's old woods, laden with the detritus of hobos as they are. My kids have hammocks and forts out there. I'm glad the memory of wood grain will be imprinted on them. They haul junk out there and make it look awful. It reminds me of the "swing" I fashioned from a board and a red suitcase strap. I hung it from a tree in our front yard so I could swing out over the ditch. Eventually it grew into the tree itself.

I know I'm a lot older than some of the new bloggers out there, but it's not like I grew up in the time of Huck Finn. And yet I did swim in ditches, eat fruit off of trees, and tried to ride horses bareback that I found in fields. Wouldn't you be mad at a kid like me trespassing all over the place? I never got in trouble for any of that stuff. I had huts EVERYWHERE and almost all of them were in other people's yards.

Here are some more textures I remember:

lilac bush limbs
cement edges of ditches where the dams went in
graying potato bugs
peeling paint
stains on the floor of my room from Heidi's perfume kit
all of my sheets--I can remember all the sheets I ever slept in as a kid
red ant piles
Jenna's couch
cracks in cement
the "rings" at school
the inside of the doghouse

Well, I could go on. But this isn't a novel where I recall every texture I can think of from my childhood. Even though that would be fascinating.

Here are my sheets:

red, white and blue stripes
green roses
yellow and white flowers and branches
some flannel ones

No Way Out But Through

I don't plan to have any more babies and I feel really, really good about it. I like my kids and I feel stretched just beyond what I can comfortably handle (just about two kids, two cats, and a dog beyond what I can comfortably handle). I have older children who surprise me by being capable, nice, and funny. And I still have a two-year-old which lets me keep my aging foot in the door of being a "cute young mom." In a few years when I am 40 and Ellen is in grade school I'll be ready to shut the door on cute young momhood forever. Then, I assume, I will become the harried, unappreciated mother of teenagers. That will be fun because 1) cooler movies 2) less buckling but nerve wracking because 3) more serious problems. I guess I will embrace this because, what else am I going to do?

Maybe that approach is too passive, but it has served me well the last 12 years I have been parenting. When it seems too hard, too infuriating, too stinky to proceed I just think, "what else am I going to do? " and I wipe up the poop. When I was pregnant with Sam 12 years ago I was very afraid of labor and how much it would hurt and also the compromising nudity of it all. My mom told me that labor lasts about a day in the grand scheme of things. "You can do anything for a day."

I tried to be very proactive about choosing a good doctor but when I went into labor the freaky doctor I had once visited who had pictures of Tom Cruise on the ceiling of his exam room was the on-call doctor. He made me have an enema and I felt like I was being abused and I cried. I really hated that guy but in retrospect I think I was kind of a baby. There's really no way out of labor--or parenting--but through.

In the wee hours of the morning before my baby was born a new doctor came on call--a wonderful, warm, helpful, perfect doctor who I would never have met had things gone according to my "plan." He delivered Sam and all the rest of them. I was never interested in trying a water birth or a home birth or a natural birth or anything different. Thinking back, I could have done without the enema but everything else worked out fine. It's not that I'm uninformed about things like doualas and vbacs--I do watch TLC. I just don't understand making such a big deal out if it because it's already like the hugest deal. I can't relate to--but I respect and I'm interested by--people who agonize over all the details of their birth plans. I feel the same way about weddings. You think you deserve a perfect day that's all about you? Good luck, and enjoy. I'm kind of austere in both these respects. It's a little weird, I guess.

I was thinking about all of this the other day when I drove past the doctor's office I went to when I was pregnant with Sam--the guy who was on vacation for the big event. I would read two chapters ahead in What to Expect When You are Expecting and then I would force myself to wait so I wouldn't read the whole book in a night. (Reading a whole book in a night, ah me--no kids yet, see.) I would write down all my questions for the doctor in my Franklin Planner. I remember one time I wrote down this question: "Can a baby sleep in a stroller?" I just laugh to think of it now. I don't know why it strikes me as so funny. I also don't know why it seemed so urgent that I ask a doctor that question.

"Excuse me, Doct0r? Ahem. Can a baby sleep in a stroller?"

Here are some interesting tidbits about my babies' births:

• When I had Sam, the nurses and doctor all complimented me on my amazing and effective pushing. I thought to myself, "I'm not even pushing as hard as I could." Easily impressed, I guess.

• When I was in my room holding Maggie, they wheeled in another baby to me and said, "Here's your baby!"

• Ben had light red hair when he was born and looked completely foreign to me. (Foreshadowing.)

• I had to share a room (including a bathroom) with another lady after I had Ben. In my emotional, recovering state this seemed to be about the most unjust and hideous arrangement since the invention of giving birth. I went home immediately.

• When I had Ellen, at the exact moment the epidural was going into my back I went completely blind. It was one of my migraines, but I took some pleasure in the fear on my anesthesiologists face--because doctors are always so smug, you know? Turns out, the joke was on me: pushing with a migraine.

Lately I've been fantasizing about being hospitalized. I love the food and the caring nurses and the pain killers. I know I should be thankful for my good health-and I am. But still. I pine for it a little. Oh you cute young moms, I wish you would just enjoy it.

Books I Read in February 2010

Here are the books I read in February of 2010. I have no regrets.

A Member of the Family: The Ultimate Guide to Living with a Happy, Healthy Dog by Cesar Millan. I'm sort of obsessed with Cesar Millan. Are you? I've read all of his books. They are all basically the same.

NurtureShock: New Thinking About Children by Po Bronson and Ashley Merryman.I recommend this book. You should read it--at least skim it (it includes a lot of research). It's very interesting. First of all, I love Po Bronson. This book is about how our parenting instincts are often totally off. I think the information is so useful. Here's a teaser to get you to read it.

• Praising your kids doesn't help them; it makes them more likely to feel like failures, not try, and lie.
  
• Sleep is even more important for your kids than you thought--like probably 1,000 times more important.
• Not talking about race doesn't teach kids to not see race--you can't assume your kids are not racist just because you are not.
• Most classic strategies to promote truthfulness just encourage kids to be better liars.
• Gifted programs get it wrong about 70% of the time.
• Having siblings doesn't necessarily teach good social skills, because so many sibling interactions are negative.
• Arguing with parents is a sign of respect for teenagers.
• Self-control can easily be taught, but not how you'd think.
• Over-parenting doesn't make nicer kids.

Intrigued?

The Emotional House: How Redesigning Your Home Can Change Your Life by Kathryn Robyn and Dawn Ritchie. When I get in the mood to rearrange my furniture I like to read books like this. It's feng shuish.

Odd Thomas by Dean Koontz. I liked this book a lot and I recommend it. It reminded me of Stephen King.

Moreover, it confirmed my belief in Twitter because one of my Twitter friends recommended it to me. I'm actually pretty picky about books. Not that I'm incredibly discerning, but the mood has to be just right for me to get past the first couple of pages. For example, I started The Elegance of the Hedgehog a couple days ago. It seems like a book I would like but I felt like I was making myself read it--like taking medicine. Whenever I feel like that I quit reading a book. It's actually very liberating. I've only done that for the last 8 years. I used to hang on to a book even if I hated it and would sometimes take a year to make myself finish it. I read a LOT more now that I let myself quit reading. There's really nothing wrong with The Elegance of the Hedgehog. Maybe I'll read it and love it next year. I just didn't feel like it. I don't always feel like Korean food, either.

So the odds that I would not only like Odd Thomas but also be in the mood for it weren't great. Whenever someone recommends a book to me I never tell them if I've started it, because I hate to have to admit to them that I didn't like it. I don't care what you say, it's always offensive when someone doesn't like a book you like and you always judge that person for not liking it. I know we all have different taste and objectively it shouldn't be this way, but it is. So I would rather say, "Oh, ya. I haven't read that yet--I'll have to remember that one!" Instead of "Oh ya, I started it but it gave me the creeps," or "Oh ya, I started it but it seemed super dumb," or "Oh ya, that was the most boring book ever." I don't want to hurt people, you know me.

Anyway, I really enjoyed Odd Thomas, which is exciting because Dean Koontz has written a lot of other books. It's a scary story involving serial killers with references to X-Files--what's not to enjoy?

THE AMERICAN FRUGAL HOUSEWIFE, DEDICATED TO THOSE WHO ARE NOT ASHAMED of Economy by Mrs. Child

This book was published in 1833 and is dedicated to "those who are not ashamed of economy." Housewifery in the 1830s? It was a scene, man. This book talks about boiling, scalding, curing, doing stuff with salt peter, and curing piles. It's pretty fun to read here in the 21st century where taking Immodium AD is just another day. There are some awesome tips in this book. Mrs. Child's philosophy on economy is still relevant and her discourse on educating girls has some surprising "he's just not that into you" contemporary advice. I love stuff like this and if you always loved the parts in Little House on the Prarie about the larder and smoking bacon, you will too. Of course, if you are ashamed of economy then you will probably hate this book.

Every night since reading this book when the cat gets on the bed I have wondered whether a wet cat could be used as a healing poultice. I always think, "Was that idea in the book? Or did I just make it up?" And then I drift off to sleep.

Happy reading! Do make suggestions for what you think I should read. I appreciate it, and if I don't like the book I'll just say I haven't read it yet so we can all stay friends.

Books I read in January 2010