While I may be a Halloween Dud Extraordinaire, I am apparently the only one in my family.

Jess and our neighbor Blake help Pepper get his zombie on.

I know you're thinking it--go ahead and say it.

"Luke, I am your father."

But this is what seals the deal of non-Halloween-duddiness.  Brad and the kids get all the credit for this:

  Yep, we are that house in the neighborhood.

Brad and the kids were soooooo excited to set this all up, and it did not go unappreciated.  Nearly every trick-or-treater that came to our door said something about our spooky house.  Brad and I were in the living room watching television, and whenever he left to go answer the doorbell, he'd come back with that straight, smug, Frown-Smile of the Supremely Pleased.  There were a few fist-pumps as well.

He even got the last laugh on that random orange lamp on the porch.  Both Jess and I thought it was pointless, telling Brad that just having an orange light-bulb in it didn't necessarily make it scary.  But one woman, after taking a picture of our house, commented, "I love the lamp!"  I concede defeat.

Tonight was our ward Trunk or Treat.  

Since I am a Halloween Dud (or Hallo-weiner, as Brad says), I will not be posting any glowing remarks about the fun time that was had by all.  I am counting down until the time that I don't have to think about costumes and stupid scary decorations anymore.  I don't mind passing out candy to all the kiddies that come to my door, but that's about as far as I am willing to go.

OK, is this gross or cute?

Whenever he hears me open the dishwasher, Joey comes running over to lick the silverware.  I promise we're not starving him--I guess he just likes the taste of people food, and the crumbs under the kitchen table just aren't enough for him.  I should point out (to those of you who are cringing right now) that he only licks the dirty silverware.  He has no taste for the clean stuff, so there are no doggy germs on my knives and forks.

(As I read over this post, I realize I have just done that thing where people post pictures of their children or pets doing ordinary things, but which they think are extraordinary due to disproportionate feelings of pride and tenderness.
Yeah, I can't even look at myself right now.)

Today, Pepper was ordained to the office of Teacher in the Aaronic priesthood.  His birthday was a few weeks ago, but because of conferences, both general and stake, he wasn't ordained until today.

In our ward here, he is going from a Deacon's quorum of fifteen boys to a Teacher's quorum of three.  Although, I guess that will all change soon enough.

I haven't decided yet if I am okay with this.

 I came home this evening to find my husband and sons spread out all over the garage, spray-painting cardboard boxes black and silver.  Apparently, Brad's department is transforming their office into the Death Star next week in honor of Halloween and it was Brad's job to provide the walls.

I don't know which is more disturbing to me--paint marking up my new garage floor, or my grown-man husband living out his fantasy to work in the Death Star.

This is my laundry room door jamb.  It makes me sad every time I pass it.

Obviously, this is where the previous owners of our house recorded the growth of their kids.  

We left a similar door jamb when we moved from Michigan.  It was on our master closet door casing, and the names were different, but the sentiment was the same.  That is where Brad had marked and dated the wall as our kids grew, and it made me ache when I walked through our empty house for the last time and saw the pencil markings showing how much my kids had grown while we lived there.

 I have always loved Fall.  I love the leaves, the crisp temperatures, and the days getting shorter, so that dinner is eaten in a cozy, lit-up kitchen while the sun sets outside.  Yum.

I have to say, Texas does not do Fall well.  For some reason, all the trees here are still green.  It is supremely disappointing to drive around in October and not see colorful leaves everywhere.

 This is a photo of Pep when he was four.  I took my three kids out one afternoon in October and just took pictures of them playing in the leaves.  These are some of my favorite photos ever.  I had some of them framed and on my wall for years.  I think I need to dig them out again, so I don't forget about Fall here in the Lone Star State.

Are you catching the inherent dilemma in this photo?

We had the missionaries over for dinner tonight, so I went all out and actually baked a bundt cake.  Then, Brad came home from work with the remains of a birthday cake.  For those of you who don't know, chocolate cake is my favorite thing in the whole world.  

What is a poor diabetic to do?

One of the perks/curses of unpacking is that I find boxes of stuff that I haven't looked at in years. For me, this time, that means I found my old journals from high school and college, which took me on a trip down memory lane to a time that I haven't thought about in years.

First of all - OH MY GOODNESS, I WAS SO STUPID!!

OK, now that I've got that out, I can talk about some parts of my journal that don't make me want to cringe.  In fact, they make me smile.

This page was written on Valentine's Day 1988.  I was a freshman at BYU, living in the dorms with some great friends, and expecting (with some trepidation) the missionary I'd been writing to come home in a couple of months.

Probably because of the romantic nature of February 14, I was waxing philosophical about the man I wanted to marry.  Here is what I wrote when I was 18 years old:

"When I get married, it's got to be to the kind of good man that my Dad is.  I want a man who would be worthy of being a bishop, even if he is never called to be one.  He's got to be a hard worker, who does any job right and is dedicated to any duty he is asked to fulfill.  But, I also want a man who loves the Lord and is willing to serve Him, because if he loves the Lord, he will want to be the kind of husband and father he should be.  He needs to be sensitive and kind and strong so I can lean on him when I feel weak, yet gentle and humble enough to come to me for support, too.  I want to be able to stay up late at night just holding hands and talking about important and trivial things, and to know that we can support each other's goals."

At the time I wrote that, I thought I was so mature and so ready for marriage.  I had no idea that it would be another six years before I met the man who'd fill those shoes.

After the above entry, there are 167 pages until I wrote about one Brad Bitner, whom *spoiler alert* I did marry.  Those 167 pages are full of enthusiasm as I discovered dancing and pursued my college degree, and mostly a whole lot of frustration as I dated men who just didn't feel like The Right Guy.

Then, on May 29, 1994, I wrote:

"Brad and I started dating around the end of March.  He was Jim's roommate, so I've known him all year.  When my heart was breaking over Jim, Brad and I used to stay up all night talking about relationships, etc.  I never was really "interested" in him because he is two years younger than me.  He and I have been great buddies for a long time.  I think some people thought we were dating because our friendship was so easy-going and natural.  We have no inhibitions or game-playing between us.  We never went through that awkward, trying-to-impress-each-other stage.  That is what is nice about our relationship.  It is all open and honest."

The very next entry was on July 25, 1994, two months later:

 "I just read my last entry and I could just cry because all those things I said about Brad Bitner are so true and he is so wonderful and I love him so much and I AM GOING TO MARRY HIM!!!  Yeah!  I am so happy I can't believe it!"

(then there is some floofy stuff about how cute he is and what a good kisser--blah, blah, blah--which I can't really share here because his dad and my dad read this, and well, you know...)

But, this is how I finished that entry:

"It is just so easy to love Brad!  I can't get over how easy it is when it is right.  If I'd known it would be this natural, I never would have worried about it before.  I just love to be around Brad.  He always tells me he is so glad he's marrying someone he can be himself around--and I feel the same way.  We have been friends for long enough that we feel very comfortable around each other--I always tell him that I like him as much as I love him.  He is just so fun to be around.  We want the same things out of life and both look forward to a home of our own and children.  We've already picked out two names:  Spencer Bradley and Jessica Something (we haven't decided on a middle name, but she will have one).  Yesterday, Brad's Grandma Herndon gave me a picture of Brad when he was four years old.  He is so cute!  He has big blue eyes, a towhead, and a belly poking out of his shirt.  I hope we have a little boy who looks just like him!

 Oh, I am so happy!  I can't believe that I can be so happy!"

This is the photo Brad's grandma gave me.  So cute.



That entry on July 25, 1994 is the last entry in my journals. After that, life took over and I just sort of quit writing until I figured out how to blog some 15 years later.

But as I read those old journals now, especially at the end, I couldn't help but think that all my dreams have come true.  I did marry a man just like I described in my eighteen-year-old handwriting.  Brad is worthy, and gentle, and strong, and we do stay up late, talking and holding hands.  Of all the people in the whole world, he believes in me the very most.  I call it his "rose-colored glasses", because somehow he sees only the best in me, like he refuses to believe I am anything but perfect.  It is like living in constant sunshine, and I have become so much more than I thought I was because I have this man who smiles at me, looks me in the eye, and tells me I can do it.

We even have a Spencer Bradley and a Jessica (and she does have a middle name, which I love and she hates) just like Brad and I talked about when we were engaged.  We also have an Adam and a Luke, whom we can't imagine life without.  We've survived running--and losing--our own business, graduate school, four newborns, unemployment, diabetes, a cancer scare, major moves (some across an ocean), and nearly 18 years of trying to be grown-ups while secretly we feel like we aren't "big" enough for any of this.

As I finished reading the last entry of my journal, I felt like I ought to write, "And she lived happily ever after."  Because, I pretty much am living happily ever after, thanks to my own personal Prince Charming, whom I still get all floofy about and think is cute and a really good kisser--blah, blah, blah-- (sorry, Dad and Mark).

Today is Brad's birthday, and as I told him tonight when I kissed him goodnight, 
I am so glad he was born.

I love you, Mann.

 Tonight was Adam's first school choir concert.  As we watched, Brad and I noted some key differences between this choir concert and the concerts we attended at BBIS in Berlin.

1.  Here, a t-shirt and jeans is considered appropriate performance attire.  This would never fly in Germany.

2.  The entire concert, consisting of two separate choirs (one girls, one boys) lasted a total of 30 minutes.  That included the time it took for one choir to exit the stage and another to take their places.  Each choir sang two (TWO!!) songs, for a grand total of only four songs.  When it was over, Brad turned to me and said, "Best choir concert EVER!"  After the choir marathons at BBIS, which usually lasted about two hours, this was a welcome treat.

3.  No children sang Handel's Hallelujah Chorus, and nobody forced us to watch fourth graders sing opera.  While these ambitious music choices have their merit, I must admit that I would rather not watch them.

I know I am trashing the music concerts at BBIS, which is pretty unfair of me.  Adam especially LOVED the music program there, and the teacher made an admirable effort to expose the kids to all different kinds of music and encourage them to express themselves.  Every kid at BBIS had a small solo at the concert, which I think was wonderful, even if it did make for a loooooong afternoon. 

And Adam seems to be liking this choir program just as much as he liked the program in Berlin.  For the last couple of weeks, Adam has been singing his songs at home, practicing for tonight.  He fancies himself quite a good singer, and will look all earnest and sensitive as he sings with his somewhat forced vibrato. It's awesome.

Today after our stake conference, we came home and fired up the barbeque.  This meal included one of my new favorite things - grilled zucchini and peppers.

Luke took one look at the strip of grilled zucchini on his plate and announced he was NOT going to eat that.  Well, since I'm trying to be a Good Mom and all Good Moms make their kids eat vegetables, I told him he had to have three bites.

Despite me smothering it in ranch dressing (usually a sure thing), Luke would not eat the zucchini.  This photo was taken after I had forcibly placed the small bite of zucchini between his lips.  It just sat there, dripping ranch dressing juice, until I finally gave up.

Motherhood is so fulfilling.

Pretty boring, but these photos signify the last of the boxes being unpacked!!

Before today, this room was floor-to-ceiling boxes full of decor chotchkies and pictures to hang on the walls.  Now the boxes are gone, but I still haven't decided where I want to hang all the pictures.

What you can't see is that those file drawers are now full of all the papers/receipts/warranties/bills that have been piling up since we moved in.

Now that I am to the Decorating Portion Of This Move, I am at a loss.  After attempting to fill the walls and shelves with the contents of our decor boxes, this living room is giving me fits.  I simply don't know how to turn this into the room I want it to be (probably because I don't really have a vision of what I want this room to be).  

On a segment of Good Morning America, Nate Berkus was plugging his book Things that Matter, in which he says that you should only fill your home with things that matter to you, not worry about a style.  I'm trying to tell myself that I am following Nate's advice, but really, I have no idea.  I'm just taking stuff out of boxes and plunking them on shelves.

  In a perfect world, I would fly all my sisters and sisters-in-law (decorating gurus) out for a week, and they could tell me exactly what is cute and we could all go shopping and it would be perfect and I would live happily ever after.

 But, alas, we do not live in a perfect world.  And, that is why my walls are nekkid.

As you know, when we lived in Berlin, Brad had to travel a LOT for his job.  He would be home in Berlin for six weeks, then off at some foreign office for three weeks, then home again for six weeks...etc.

Basically, this meant that 

1) he dragged me off to Germany, then dumped me there with the kids while he had to go work nearly everywhere else in the world (yep, still bitter),

and 2) he racked up a TON of points on his credit card, since whenever he was gone for three weeks, he charged it to his card and then Daimler would reimburse him.

Today, we received our consolation prize for all that time apart.  Brad cashed in his points for Amazon.com gift cards, which he then used to purchase this ginormous 65 inch TV for our empty media room.

Clearly, Adam and Pepper are in heaven.  Already, this TV has seen a lot of Xbox play.  Brad has got it all hooked up to the speakers, so once we have a place to sit, this will be a prime movie-/DWTS-/Downton Abbey-watching venue.

PS - I'm not really all that bitter.  I would follow this man anywhere.

 My Dino-Pod.

Several years ago--like many, many years ago--my father-in-law gave me his old iPod.  He was upgrading to a newer, bigger gigabytier version, and thought I might like his old one, since I didn't have one of my own.  I happily took it, but I didn't really have much use for it at the time, so I tucked it away with some of my old cameras and went on my merry way.

Last week, as I was unpacking boxes, I ran across this little iPod and was delighted!  My car has a plug-in for mp3 players, and frankly, I am tired of listening to my kids' music, which they plug in every time they get in the car.  So, I put some favorite songs of mine on this little number, and I have been rocking out in my car to Caro Emerald, Bon Jovi, The Monkees, Brad Paisley, and of course Gotye.  

Because it's practically an antique, my iPod tops out at 58 songs.  But, somehow I just love the lameness of it.  I also love that it is tiny and doesn't require a cord to plug into my car, and that it is ONLY for music, so I don't ever have to pull it out for other uses.  It just sits happily in my car, waiting for me to turn on the ignition so it can run through its 58 songs...again.

Oh my goodness, I have turned into one of Those People.

You know, Those People who treat their pet like a member of the family and post pictures of their dog because they are sure the rest of the world will think that This Dog is sooooo different from every other dog, and everyone is going to fall in love with him as soon as they see a photo of his sweet face with eyes looking adoringly up at his owner.

I never thought I would be here.

But, I am.  I must admit that I am crazy about our dog Joey.  

I did NOT see this coming, and I don't quite know how to look at myself anymore. 

 This picture makes me smile so much.

Over the weekend, Luke acquired a new skill that he is THRILLED about.  Somehow, he has learned to make a farting sound with his armpit.  He did it over and over again, until it got to the point where I finally had to put my foot down and tell him he was only allowed to do it in his bedroom with the door closed.

(He was pretty obedient.  When he was climbing into the car after church yesterday, I heard that tell-tale "phmmmph" noise, but he matter-of-factly told me that it wasn't his armpit.  In a couple of seconds, it was obvious that this was true--and it wasn't better.)

So, I can't say that I was surprised to see this note on his behavior report from school today:

 Luke's new trick earned him a "red", which is an unsatisfactory grade for behavior.  A "red" gets him sent to bed early.  

And, I think you can guess what I heard when I passed his bedroom door.

 I was so in the mood for chocolate cupcakes with peanut butter icing (a la Susanne), so I made these cupcakes this afternoon.

But, when I tried to make the frosting, I realized I had no shortening in the house.  

My disappointment knows no bounds.



Monday Morning Update:

  !!!!!!!!!!!

My sons learned a very important life lesson today.

Luke learned that while it may be fun to throw rocks and soccer goals and welcome mats into the pool, it is most decidedly NOT FUN to fish them out when Dad sees them sitting on the bottom of the pool.

And Luke's brothers learned that if they see Luke throwing the above-mentioned items into to the pool, they should stop him immediately, because Dad will make them help with the fishing-out.  

No matter how cold it is.

It turns out that I am a mad woman.

Last night, after a full day of unpacking the boxes upstairs, I just couldn't let it go.  So, after dinner, I found myself back up in the playroom, digging into that pile of toys.

And this morning, I can come upstairs and do a little happy dance!  

(I would also like to thank McDonalds for their generous contribution to our trash bins this week--so many stupid Happy Meal toys!)

Here are all the blissfully empty boxes I unpacked yesterday.

In the words of Rachel Greene, "That's what I call closure."

Well, I'm advanced enough in the unpacking to now have to face the really dreaded stuff.  After unpacking all the rooms that I knew would be pretty straight-forward, I cannot put off the playroom any longer.

This is how it started this morning.  I should point out that this is only half of the boxes that needed to be unpacked - the rest are behind me in the media room...

...here.

Ugh.  Can you see why I've been putting this off?

Eight hours later, this is where we stand:

 The good news is, we can now see floor in the media room.  This room is going to be bare-naked for a while until we can afford to furnish it.

However, the bad news is:

 All those boxes marked "Spiele" were full of loose toys.  Either the bins came open in transit, or my piggy kids had mixed them all up when they "cleaned" the playroom in Berlin.  Whatever the cause, the effect was boxes upon boxes of tiny little toys all mixed together. My solution: dump them all into a big pile, surround them with the appropriate containers, and just put them all away one toy at time.

But right now, I am finding this task rather daunting, and adopting Scarlett O'Hara's mantra to just think about it tomorrow.

I caved.

When Lukie brought home the brochure announcing school picture day, I let out an "ugh" of disgust.  I not-so-secretly hate school pictures.  Every time we've ordered school pictures in the past, they end up in their envelopes gathering dust on my office shelves, taunting me every time I run across them because I don't like them well enough to frame and hang them, yet we spent good money on them, and there is something about a picture of my kid that makes it impossible for me to throw it away.  Plus, I take hundreds of pictures of my kids, and most of them I like better than the staid, posed, blue-backgroundy school photos.  So, every year, the section of my shelves devoted to school pictures gets more crowded, more dusty, and more ridiculous.

So, I vowed I would take a stand.  I was NOT going to order school pictures this year!  Go me!  My resolution was only made easier when my older kids told me that school picture days for them had come and gone already without them bothering to tell me, so it wasn't even possible for me to order pictures of them.  With a great show of purpose, I tossed Luke's school picture brochure into the garbage and patted myself on the back.

  But then this morning as Luke was getting ready to go to school, he reminded me that it is school picture day, so his hair needed to look nice.  I tried to prepare him, and I told him that I wasn't going to order any school pictures this year, so his hair looked fine (his hair doesn't really look fine.  He cut a chunk out of the front of it a week ago at school, and I haven't bothered to fix it).

Luke was dumbfounded that I was not planning to order his school pictures. 

 Sigh.  

So, I grabbed the hair gel and spiked his hair to hopefully hide the chunk that is missing, fished the brochure out of the kitchen garbage, and grabbed a $20 bill to pay for the cheapest package.  

The way I look at, I am paying $20 so Lukie won't feel like the only first grader in his class whose parents don't love him enough to want his picture.  

And every time I come across the picture of his cute little face with a fake smile, half-opened eyes, and cheesy background, I am going to remind myself that this photo commemorates my little boy knowing his mom and dad think he is photo-worthy.  

And, that the people who came up with this school picture gig have really got my number.

In between the conferencing, the air-showing, the brunching, and the Hotel Transylvania-ing of last weekend, I worked at unpacking the office.  

It is still a work-in-progress, but I did make enough headway that we were able to set up the desktop computer - our "real" computer.

When we powered her up, of course it was still set on Berlin, Germany time.  I had a moment of nostalgia, realizing that as I sat in Texas at 8:01 a.m., it was 3:01 p.m. for my friends in Germany.  There was a piece of me that wanted to leave the time set for Berlin, just so I could feel connected to my Berlin Peeps.  So, I didn't change anything.

But, this afternoon, Adam proudly announced that he had reset the computer time to accurately reflect our change in location.  So much for my fleeting nostalgia.

 Today is Columbus Day, which means no school, so I took the kids to see Hotel Transylvania.

After seeing it, I have come to the conclusion that Adam Sandler and his cronies are much easier to stomach in an animated film.  That said, I did still take a 10 minute nap in the middle.  But the fact that I wasn't too irritated to fall asleep is an improvement over the last Adam Sandler movie I watched.

For the past couple of years, we have enjoyed a conference tradition of inviting a houseful of friends over to our house for a big Sunday brunch while we watch conference.  Since we don't have a houseful of friends here yet to invite, we had a smaller, just-us version of the General Conference Brunch-A-Palooza.

Here is the food before we all tore into it.  Yes, that is Cheez Whiz in celery that you see front and center.  After three years of hoity-toity European cheeses, I felt a responsibility to introduce my children to the all-American, trailer-trashy, cheese-food-like-substance that is Cheez Whiz.  For the record, they loved it.

 This afternoon, Brad and I took the boys to an air show at a little airport by Brad's office.  It was only 50 degrees, which is FREEZING in Texas, but we still had fun.

The Thunderbirds put on an exhibition where they flew jets really fast and really low in really tight formations.  Every time they did some maneuver, Luke would look at us all wide-eyed and say, "This is the BEST PLACE EVER!!"

Yep, this guy is upside down.

The planes were flying so low and fast that it was super loud - like the kind of loud that rumbles your chest cavity.  Many people wore ear plugs, but hello, ear plugs are for sissies!

(What?  Pardon me?  I'm sorry, could you speak up?  My ears are still ringing...)

We also got to look at a bunch of airplanes up close.  Don't you think this Galaxy looks like a whale about to swallow all the people?

Cool airplanes were admired, ear drums were damaged, hot dogs and pretzels were eaten, and Diet Dr. Pepper and lemonade were drunk.  Excellent use of a Saturday afternoon.

Tonight, Jess, Pepper, and I went to see Jessica's high school production of The Diary of Anne Frank.

  Jess really wanted to see it because many of the actors are in her drama class and she helped with sound crew until they decided not to use mikes.  Pepper wanted to see it, since he was in the play last year playing Miep Gies.  And I wanted to see it because I always like to watch plays.  Always.

I was very, very impressed with the quality of this production.  The set looked professional, all the actors were very well prepared and convincing, and there was not a single cringe-worthy moment like can sometimes happen in a high school play, except that they pronounced Anne's sister's name "Mar-gut" with a hard 't'.  I've always thought it was pronouced the softer "Margo", but the director told me at intermission that they chose the pronunciation after watching film footage with the actual Otto Frank, and he pronounced it "Mar-gut".  I guess he would know the correct way to say it.

The high school is doing The Sound of Music later in the year.  It would send me over the moon to watch Jess onstage in that production.  I guess I have a few months to figure out a way to manipulate her into thinking that SHE wants to do it...

So, we live in the sticks.  Our neighborhood is out in the middle of cow pastures and old farm roads.

It's actually awesome. 

Our backyard is on the other side of this cow pasture.  I don't know where the cows went.  Usually they are hanging out here munching on grass.  It would be so boring to be a cow.

But, every time I drive these roads, I feel a sense of contentment deep in my core.  I don't know what it is or how to explain it, except that it just feels like I FIT here.  Like when you find that right puzzle piece after trying to make 50 others fit, and the correct piece sort of slides into place, like it is pulling itself into the puzzle where it belongs.  There is just a deep rightness about it.  That is how I feel out here among the wide farm roads and bored cows and big blue sky.  I belong here.

 

This is the "downtown" near our house.  I know all you city slickers out there are probably appalled at the lack of Targets or Costcos or Olive Gardens, but this is just perfect for me.  It kind of reminds me of Garland, the small town where my dad grew up. 

I guess I'm just a Country Girl after all.

In the mornings, after we get home from seminary, Jess likes to let Joey in the house to follow her around as she finishes getting ready for school.  He is always waiting anxiously for her as soon as he hears the car pull up, and he trails after her every move as she does her make-up and grabs some breakfast.

This morning, Jess's bus was a bit early, so she had to rush out the door when it pulled up in front of our house.  Apparently, this mad scramble did not provide Joey with the closure he needed, because after she ran out the front door, he sat there whining and whimpering and crying for a good 10 minutes. 

At least Jessica knows she is loved.