Amelia's Blessing

Here are some pictures from Amelia's blessing day, Jan 20. It was great to have my parents come out for it. I think Amelia looks so cute in her very large bow. For some reason it makes me think of Pollyanna.

Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend

So, I seem to have lost my wedding band. Well, lost isn't exactly accurate, because that would imply that I don't know where it is. I do know where it is. However, it is completely inaccessible. Where is this place? Why, it is in my clothes closet. This area is inaccessible not because there is a huge mountain of discarded clothing items strewn about the floor (although until about eight hours ago that would have been true), but because the ring, through a series of unfortunate events, fell behind my very heavy dresser. What happened was this: I keep my rings on top of aforementioned dresser when I'm not wearing them. I know some people wear their rings 24/7 and never take them off. I am not one of those people. You will not catch me 20 years from now having to have my rings cut off of my finger because the flesh has grown over them and the circulation has deteriorated to the point of strangulation of the digit. So, the rings were on the dresser. For some reason that is still a mystery to me, I chose to actually iron some item of clothing one day. I put the iron back in its rarely removed from spot on the top shelf of my closet, but I guess the shock of finally being used was too much for the iron to handle and it tried to make a desperate leap to the ground. In the process of it's descent it knocked over the can of spray starch, which knocked over my empty temple clothes bag, which fell on top of the dresser creating a backlash that sent my rings flying and one of them, the wedding band, ended up in the dark and secluded crevice between the wall and my dresser. I still have my engagement ring, so that's something. Not like my poor friend Mendy who, in a tragedy involving bread dough that truly could bring tears to your eyes, had her much loved oval diamond engagement ring ground up in the garbage disposal by an unwitting friend and washed down the drain, never to be seen again. If you're reading this Mendy, post a comment about if you ever got a replacement...last I knew you magnanimously refused your friend's offer to pay you back for it and were doing without.

I do miss having the band though. I like the idea of the symbolism of wedding bands. the symbolism of engagement rings I don't enjoy as much...that whole idea of a man claiming you and "marking" you as his through a piece of jewelry while he walks around unmarked as an engaged man raises the hackles in the stridently feminist little portion of my heart, but I do like owning a real diamond. It makes me feel fancy. Although, technically I've owned a real diamond since I turned 16. It was a tradition in my family to get a birthstone ring for your 16th birthday. This worked out wonderfully for my sisters who got beautiful amethyst and aquamarine rings, respectively, but when it came to me my parents were a bit worried. I'm an April baby, so my birthstone is a diamond. They kept to their tradition and got me a ring with a real diamond in it, although to tell you the truth I'm not sure it scientifically meats the qualifications to be called a "stone". I think it might more rightly be called a "fleck" or perhaps a "chip", but stone is a bit ambitious a term for it. It is smaller than even one of the prongs in its setting, but I still love it that my parents gave it to me. So now I feel extra fancy, remembering that I actually own TWO diamond rings! (Plus a wedding band with tiny diamond inserts, if I can ever retrieve it...)

ABC's

Some things definitely improve with time. I don't know how many of you have enjoyed a bowl of alphabet soup lately, but I have! And let me tell you that the quality of the letter shaped pasta has improved dramatically. When I was a child I remember fishing out blobs of pasta and saying to myself, well, that could be a "W", or maybe an "X" - then again maybe it's an "H". It made spelling your name with your lunch kind of a challenge. Now the letters are big and distinct. And this was Great Value brand soup (you anti-Wal-Mart people might not know that's their store brand). I can only imagine the alphabetical delights that may await in a can of Campbell's soup. (I say this even though I'm pretty sure they would use the same pasta. I am convinced that store brands of most things come off the same lines as national brands and just get a different label. My mother strongly disagrees with this and says that all store brands contain national brand rejects and aren't fit for refined tables. Admittedly, some store brand items are distinctly different from their national brand counterparts. Cheetos, for one thing. Yogurt, for another. Creamed soups are never as good from anyone but Campbell's. I'm sure you can think of several more.)

On another note, here is a picture of what my children did while I was putting away a basket of laundry the other day.

They drew all over themselves with white board markers, and boy were they proud of it! We have a Christmas tradition that Tyler and I each make one gift for the children and give it to them on Christmas Eve (so as not to have all our hard work unceremoniously brushed aside in favor of the toys from the Jolly Old Elf). This year Tyler's gift to them was to put up these white boards in our game room for them to draw on. They each got a package of markers and their own erasure. I was so proud of the way they were following the rule to draw only on the designated board after an unfortunate carpet incident, and then this happens. Oh well. It took days and days to fade away. White board markers certainly aren't washable. At least, not from skin. I was just thankful they kept to areas of the body that are always covered up!