"You know, these are some nice Grandmas you've got here." - Aaron Baker, pointing to my five generation maternal line picture on the wall

I started a food journal this past week. I thought maybe that it would help me to figure out why I eat. But, I was thinking about it. I know why I eat. Because it is FUN, it tastes yummy, sometimes I am bored, because everyone else is eating, because I am on the phone with Happiness, because it is in the fridge etc, etc, etc. Pretty much, if I am breathing, I am thinking about what next to eat. Over the weekend I made and then ate an entire fresh peach pie....and then at least half of a large Papa Murphy's pepperoni pizza. Granted, it was dang good. But really, I have a serious problem. We're talking "shift the whole focus of my life" problem. But, I am determined to overcome. I actually look at biscuits and cookies and say outloud to myself "Skinny girls don't eat you. I won't let you ruin my diet. I won't let you keep me from fitting into my white Banana Republic pants next summer."

This little psychological exercise only works about 20% of the time, unfortunately. I just keep giving myself reasons to break the diet. "It's Sunday." "It's Friday." "I have guests over." "I need to make something 'fun' with these peaches." "I should make a treat for the neighbors." "I need to make something 'fun' for Aaron." "It's Saturday." "We need a treat for Family Home Evening." "It's mutual night."

So, anyway, Mom and I moved her treadmill over to my house last Friday. It is now in my basement and I have actually used it several times. I sincerely enjoy exercising--that is not my problem. My problem comes in the over-indulging in eating. I mean, probably 'one piece' of peach pie would have been fine. But no. I have to eat the whole thing.

I am trying to learn to replace eating with something else...

This is a post, written by Susannah, from the family blog. It is so hilarious. I am amazed as Susannah amazingly accurate dialogue from weeks ago. Even reading it now causes me to burst into a fit of tummy cramping laughter.

(Deb and I were hungry at about 10 p.m., so we drove around my area of Vegas looking for some place open. We went to Papa Johns and they were closed except for deliveries and we didn't have the cell phone with us. Then we went to McDonalds and tried to walk in, but the doors were locked and a lady inside was waving at us and yelling, "The drive-thru is open!" We were crying from laughing so hard and we were spazzy...let the hilarity ensue)


McChick: "Welgum to MaDonods; can I tik yo oder?"
Deb & Sue: *SNICKER*
Sue: "Yeah, uh...just a minute"
...
*SNICKER*
...
Sue: "It says hashbrowns next to the fries, can I get hashbrowns at night?"
Deb: "hahaha. I dunno. Ask her."
Sue: "Is she there? Can I just start talking?"
Deb: "Just talk."
Sue: "Uh....hello?"
McChick: "Huwwo? Can I tik yo oder?"
Sue: "Yeah, uh, can I get hashbrowns at night?"
McChick: "What?"
Sue: "Hahaha. It says hashbrowns by the fries, can I get hashbrowns right now?"
McChick: "No"
Deb: "Hahahaha!"
McChick: "Can I tik yo oder?"
Sue: "Uh...just a minute. Hahaha."
Deb: "I just want a hot apple pie. I'm going to get two of them. I just want a hot apple pie."
Sue: "hello?"
McChick: "hewwo?"
Sue: "Can we get two hot apple pies..."
McChick:"We're out of those."
Deb & Sue: HAHAHAHA.
Sue: "They have peach. Just get peach."
Deb: "I. DON'T. WANT. PEACH! I WANT A HOT APPLE PIE!"
Sue: "Hahahahahahahaaaahhhahaaahahaaa!"
Deb: "I'll have a hot fudge sundae."
Sue: "Ok, uh, can we get a hot fudge sundae."
Deb: "Lets get chicken nuggets.
Sue: "How many?"
Deb: "Uh...5?"
Sue: "K, we'd like the 10 pack of chicken nuggets."
Deb: "Two cheeseburgers."
Sue: "And two cheeseburgers. And a BigMac meal with a diet Coke.
McChick: "Will that be all?"
Sue: "Yeah. And a hot n spicy McChicken."
Deb: "Hahahaha!"
car behind us: **HONK, HONK!**
...
Sue: "Hey Deb, did I get my fries?"
Deb: "Yeah, they're right here" *shoves fistful in her mouth*
...
Deb: "Wow, that was a lot of food."
Sue: "And you still have two cheeseburgers left."
Deb:"Uh..." *sheepish grin*
Sue: "One?"
Deb: "Ok, so I'm fat!"

To Elizabeth

Here is another poem, written in my pre-married/pre-children days. I love it how I would write poems about topics that I really had no idea about. But, isn't that just like me anyway--to wax poetic and think that though I had never been there, I understood it anyway.

Today I am dedicating this poem to Elizabeth--a woman with enough passion left to can. She'll know why.

"Honey"

Honey-buttered bread
is what we'd eat
those evenings
when she'd hold her breath
waiting
for me to settle down, to doze off--

the golden drips
that echoed the flame in her eyes
would fall and burn stains on the carpet under me.
Across the table,
she'd smile at my stickied, baby-tooth grin.

But sometimes,
from a corner
I'd watch her clean the stickiness
and observe as her glowing mask
would briefly crumble to surface
a bored woman--

drenched in all that honey
and dish towel hair
playing housewife, wiping nose--
patiently canning her passion in bottles
for pouring on later
like
honey
on bread.

Yesterday turned out to be a pretty good day after all. The beginning was somewhat stressful. I had about a million things on my mind...teaching the lessons for sunday school (family history and temple work) and for the beehive class (every person is divine and eternal), singing in church, visiting new beehive girls, packing for vegas, getting to the airport on time, making the flight bearable for Hyrum and/or passengers around us, etc. Aaron was a huge help all weekend basically putting everything on hold to help me. He was wonderful. I am so lucky to be married to him

The airport experience began on a tense note. We were running a tad behind...then when we got there we found that the plane had mechanical problems and was going to be delayed "at least an hour" and was "booked solid" meaning that I would have to hold Mr. Wiggles on my lap the entire time. (If I was a believer in bad omens, now was the time to panic. September 11th, flying, plane with mechanical problems...) Anyway, so Aaron said goodbye to me and a very very very "I missed my afternoon nap" tired Hyrum at about 6:20 p.m. and the security check in. Unfortunately, we didn't finally board the plane until 7:50 p.m.

But, Hyrum was an angel. He happily played with other little kids in the "play area" next to our terminal the entire waiting time. He was such a sweet little soul exploring the new toys and periodically looking up at me with happy red rimmed eyes.

Then, they let me board first and it turned out that the plane was NOT booked solid and so I took the car seat right on with me and buckled him up in his very own seat...far away from people (there was about five empty rows between us and the rest of the passengers). He seemed to enjoy the ride and it was fun to see his different reactions to the new sensations of takeoff, turbulence, and landing. The two stewardesses were quite taken and spent a lot of time showering extra attention on Hyrum. He loved it. It was so fun for me because I spent the entire flight talking to and playing with Hyrum. I go to look at him...really look at him and see how handsome and sweet he is. We laughed together and interacted and I discovered, much to my surprise, that he is no longer a little baby but a very alert and intelligent little boy. I found out that he is getting a new tooth that I can actually see. I also discovered that he waves hello and goodbye. He is also vocalizing so much. I love to hear his squeals of delight, babbling, and watching him as he picks up food and feeds himself. He is so sweet. My heart nearly burst with joy to be able to be with him and have some time just to sit there and enjoy it. It was quite an experience.

After we landed we waited until the plane was completely empty before we got off. One stewardess carried the car seat out for me (we had to use the stairs from the plane out to the runway) then another man took the seat right from her and carried it to the terminal for me. Then as I was juggling the luggage, Hy-guy, and the seat to baggage claim another man came up and took the car seat for me. Everyone was so nice and like I said...Hyrum was a perfect angel. Elizabeth and Susannah met me with a bag of candy. Life was almost perfect. Just add Aaron Richardovitch and we would have had a done deal. Heaven.

It's Autumn Time, It's Autumn Time

So, we are officially starting our Fall menu in the Baker house. Friday we had homemade creamy pesto over penne, grilled chicken, and yellow squash. Divine. Saturday we had "Autumn Chicken": Chicken, lightly breaded, with pears, cranberries, garlic, green onions, and walnuts; wild rice with herbs, and red cabbage. Not only was it good. It was Gorgeous on the plate. I think that next time I make it I will take a picture. We had fresh peach slices with whipped cream for dessert. YUMMMY. So yesterday we tried a new recipe: "Ham and Apple Skillet". It was pretty good. Ham, apples, onions, carrots, etc in a creamy mustard sauce over brown rice. Top that off with a heaping spoonful of homemade cinnamon pear crisp and fresh whipped cream. Tonight, French Onion Soup...

As to my "diet", ummmm, it's suffering.

The Crazy Man I Sleep Next To

Well, Aaron is taking 19 credits this semester. And he is also working and TA-ing in addition to that. I thought that the semester that Hyrum was born was bad, (Aaron working at Target every other night while I spent my evenings and early mornings alone "napping" and breastfeeding...) but this one...well we'll see how it turns out. I am trying to figure out how to be "supportive." Supportive is such an illusive term, I am finding. What does it really mean anyway. It is an interesting position, being the wife. Don't get me wrong, I mean, it is a lot of fun, but you get put into a passive role sometimes. Translation: supporter.

Motherhood, the Grand Experiment

Hyrum is the funniest little person that I know. He is so smart and I have a hard time not laughing and smiling at him when I should be making a stern face and saying "no, don't put that ladybug in your mouth." It is just the look on his face that kills me. It's like he crawls around the house as fast as possible (almost to the point that he topples over head first) stuffing whatever he can find on the floor into his mouth as quickly as he can before I get over to him. He has this mischevious twinkle in his eye all the while and I have to wonder to myself if the half masticated ball of lint in his mouth is worth the effort of prying open his tiny pursed lips.

Of course there are some things that I have to draw the line on. Like the electrical outlet in his room that almost constantly fascinates him. He would love to spend his days pulling his nightlight out and putting some other toy into the hole. The other day when I saw him crawl over to the outlet with his hand poised to grab the light, I said "Hyrum" in the most grown-up and authoritative voice I could think of. Right as I said his name Hyrum didn't miss a beat and let his little hand, which was in mid-air ready to latch upon the light, come down in a perfect swoop to pick up a toy that was laying on the ground next to the outlet. He then turned to me with a look like "what, I was just going for this toy, Mom." Hahahahahahahahahahahaha. He is so smart. It is so much fun. I find myself waiting for his naps to be over so we can play again.

And Now a Poem

This is one of my early metaphorical poems. Obviously I was very very single at the time.

Inadequate affection
(but sufficient attention)
thrives in my pool.
Where swimmers can float long days
without once touching
the slippery butter slimy floor.

No life saving tubes are by
the edge
discretion and personal skill is all that
frustrates a beginner.
Water wings or not,
my pool is placid, graceful, surprising.

The stability of such a place was
long ago
compromised by monthly passes
separate depth markings,
he and she bathroom stalls,
taller and even taller jumpy boards;
but now can sleep
inert, paralyzed, frozen;

or dance, lively and choppy.

In my pool the gates aren't closed
and the line is not long
the ticket takers booth is as
empty as an orphans hug,
but the water is warm
and the air is sticky and heavy.


If you hate poetry, which I am finding many people do, don't take this one too seriously. If you don't "get it" read it again and think of the emotional rollar coaster of dating and what-have-you when you were seventeen or eighteen years old. There you go.

"Everything you see I owe to spaghetti" - Sophia Lauren

I'm having a hard time figuring out how to start this blog. I want to be witty, like Susannah's blog, so I feel a certain amount of pressure to add humor to every line. On the other hand, this blog is for me. (Ha, that sounds a lot like "this Bud's for you.") It is where I can continue writing--something I love to do and haven't done since graduation. There was a time when I considered myself a "good writer." So let's hope that that little ability hasn't gone by the wayside since the advent of Motherhood...like my, now non-existent, ability to jump on the trampoline without wetting my pants. I guess, all we can do is cross our legs...I mean fingers...and hope.