Sayler's Old Country Kitchen and Mo's Chowder House

Not to imply that everything is about food.

Except it sort of is.

I spend about 80% of my time on a strict, low-fat eating plan, dreaming about all the wonderful food I wish I could eat. I spend the other 20% of my time "off plan," eating all that wonderful food. And so is my life.

My three days in Portland were clearly "off plan."

The second night I was there, I ate dinner with my mom, my brother, and his 18-year-old daughter at Sayler's Old Country Kitchen, home of the 72-ounce steak. I'm not sure if it's the nostalgia or the food that makes this place so special, probably both. You see, growing up, the Country Kitchen was our "place." I remember going there many, many times with my mom and dad, Tom (Tommy), and my grandparents. I'm pretty sure we went there at least monthly, sometimes more.

And other than the prices, little has changed. It's exactly the way I remember it from four decades ago. Every meal begins with an iced relish tray filled with celery, carrots, and olives. This is followed by thick-sliced french bread with melted garlic butter and a green salad with choice of dressing. Finally, the main course arrives, which for us, means a beautiful Fillet Mignon steak, cooked to order. They have a 4-oz one for kids, and I remember my mom ordering one of those for Tommy and me to share. I was so proud when I eventually graduated to my own kids' steak, and eventually, I had to order from the adult menu because I was eating my own steak plus a good portion of my dad's. The end of the meal is ice cream, peppermint or spumoni.

The menu is shaped like their famous 72-ounce steak and is even the exact size of it. That is one huge steak (!), and customers who eat the entire thing in a certain amount of time get it free of charge. Tommy and I always tried to get our dad or grandpa to attempt it, but they never did (for good reason, obviously). Sitting there last Sunday evening, those three were close to my heart: my dad and grandma and grandpa. I miss them, but I cherish the memories.

The following day, Tom, my mom, and I headed to the Oregon Coast, yet another place of nostalgia. We spent time in both Seaside and Cannon Beach. Tom and I reminisced about the days of childhood and that one time we were riding the "Octopus" in the amusement park, and the operator forgot about us and left us sitting high up on the ride.

We walked on the sand, watched the crashing waves, and breathed the calm ocean air. But the highlight was, of course, the food. We ate dinner at Mo's Restaurant, famous for its clam chowder. We ordered fried clam strip as an appetizer and then fresh shrimp salads, followed by a large family-style pot of clam chowder to share. Mmmm, can't even describe how good.

I came home wondering if I gained five pounds in just three days, but whatever. It was worth it. Another trip home to Oregon is now history.

"I do set my bow in the cloud...

...and it shall be for a token of a covenant between me and the earth" (Genesis 9:13).

The summer between my 7th and 8th grade years, a nice lady named MaryAnn knocked on our door and asked my mom if I would be interested in joining the International Order of Rainbow for Girls. A new group, Kellogg Assembly #92, was being formed, and MaryAnn was recruiting girls of the right age (12-20) from the neighborhood.

Little did I know what a defining moment that simple act would turn out to be. My mom asked me, and I said "yes," and the rest is, as they say, history.

This past Saturday evening, the group of six former Rainbow girls pictured above gathered in the same building that was once Farrell's Ice Cream Parlour, the very place we had gathered so many times, so many years ago, following various Rainbow activities. We talked. We laughed. We reminisced. We caught up with each other's lives. We laughed some more, literally to the point of tears. Some of us had not seen each other in over three decades, but that didn't matter at all. Rainbow sisters are sisters forever.

At one point Dorene (far right in photo), said, "Terrianne, you were very serious about Rainbow." Haha, I can't argue with her. For better or worse (and it was probably a bit of both), I took the whole thing very seriously. Nancy Rae (second from left) remembered me telling her she wasn't sitting properly while wearing a formal gown. According to Lorrie (fourth from left), I had listened to Mrs. Davis (stunningly beautiful older lady with white, sculpted hair, who was our Grand Deputy), who had taught me that a lady backs into a chair, until she feels the chair touch the back of her knees; then she floats gently down, knees together, and crosses her ankles. Honestly, I don't remember any of this, but I don't doubt for a second that it's true. Nancy Rae, will you accept my apology all these years later?

From the time I was 13 until I graduated and left for college, Rainbow was pretty much my life. It wasn't just one extracurricular activity; it WAS my extracurricular activity. At one point I had 27 formals hanging in my closet, which I wore 3-4 times a week to installations, initiations, and other Rainbow meetings. And it was grand! That said, the whole thing is sort of hard to explain to people who are unfamiliar with it. Like my kids, for example. "But what did you actually do there?" Well all sorts of things. We walked around in squares, bowed, memorized long sections of text and recited them (so fun!), wore formal gowns, and for four months each, served as Worthy Advisor, where we got to wear a crown, pound a gavel, and tell others what to do and where to go, whether east or west. Can you even imagine? I was totally in my element!

More seriously, though, the main purpose of Rainbow is service. Each Worthy Advisor chooses a service project on which to focus during her 4-month term of office. Jackie (second from right) chose to raise money to help support a child in a developing country. Dorene raised funds to provide seeing eye dogs for the blind. My service project? I can't remember. But I'm sure it was a good one, whatever it was.

In addition to service, Rainbow girls must raise money in order to function, and in Kellogg Assembly, the principal fundraising project each year was a Christmas gift wrap at Fred Meyer. We wrapped presents all of November, right up until Christmas Eve. I learned all my gift wrapping skills from the moms who chaperoned us, especially Mrs. Collmer, mom to Cathy (far left). I remember late one December night her teaching me how to make sure the crease of the wrapping paper goes right down the center of the package. To this day, I'm still ever so careful about this every year when I wrap my Christmas gifts.

The highlight of the year in Rainbow was Grand Assembly, when Rainbow girls from all over Oregon gathered on the campus of Oregon State University in Corvallis for what might loosely be defined as a huge, 3-day slumber party. Along with attending the state-wide meetings, the Kellogg girls did a few other things, including the "Order of the Pillows" (don't even ask) and an entertainment competition. The year we won, we created a circus to Three Dog Night's "The Show Must Go On." We had lions and lion tamers and jugglers and acrobats, and I was the ringmaster, who carried a whip and lip-synced the song. Good times!

Our mini, impromptu reunion, though small, was a riveting success! I only last week decided to go to Portland, and Nancy Rae put this all together at the very last moment. Next time we will provide more notice, so more people can attend. Our dear Mother Advisor, MaryAnn, had planned to be with us, but she got sick, unfortunately. We missed you, Mrs. Frack! But be assured, you were not forgotten. We talked about how you short-sheeted our beds at Grand Assembly and fed us refreshments out of cat food cans! We will always love you.

And each other. We will always love each other. Because rainbow sisters are sisters forever.

Swen and the art of buying whatever he wants

Yesterday, I took Shulamith's 4-year-old son, Swen, to the store. Shulamith is recovering from surgery and was napping with her daughter, Kennedy. We went to my least favorite store in the world, Wal-Mart, because I needed several different things.

Swen needed only one thing: a car. He has millions of cars already (okay, that might be hyperbole, but maybe not?), but he always wants more. He reminds me of a younger Isaiah, who once upon a time looked up at me and said, "Mommy, I know I already have a lot of these cars, but I just love them."

I told Swen that as soon as I gathered all the stuff I needed, he could pick out one, $.97 Hot Wheels car. He agreed.

I found everything I needed, and we headed to the toys. I spotted the $.97 Hot Wheels cars. "You can pick out whichever one of those that you want, but only the ones that say $.97." He quickly selected a yellow Hot Wheels car, and we were off to check out. It seemed strange to me that this whole choosing process went so smoothly. Usually, it takes hours (hyperbole again) for him to decide, as he continues to ask for bigger, more expensive cars. Not this time.

I paid little attention when we were checking out. I usually watch every item ring up, but I was a bit distracted.

Later in the day, Shulamith asked me why I bought Swen a color-changing Hot Wheels car. "Those things cost over $4.00!" I told her I didn't, that I told him to choose a $.97 Hot Wheels.

"Well, he didn't," she replied. "He definitely bought a color-changing one. Didn't you notice when you paid?"

Nope. I sure didn't. But my subsequent conversation with Swen is the part that inspired this post. He is so matter-of-fact and so funny.

Me: Swen, did you buy a regular Hot Wheels car today, or did you buy an expensive color-changing car.

Swen: I bought a color-changing Hot Wheels.

Me: But Swen, I told you to choose a regular Hot Wheels.

Swen: Her, I don't really like the regular Hot Wheels cars. I really only love the color-changing Hot Wheels. So that's what I bought.

How do you do five (without any alcohol)?

One time, years ago, I was standing in my brother's kitchen attempting to get a glass of water for some child (don't know which), while holding a newborn in one arm as two little boys hung one on each of my legs and an older kid was screaming a question to me from another room. My brother looked at me in dismay and asked, "How do you do five without any alcohol?" Keep in mind that he, himself, is the proud father to three lovely daughters so no stranger to parenting, but in that moment, my situation must have looked rather ominous.

It was not the only time I have been asked a similar question. My dearest and longtime friend, Lorrie, has posed that same question (minus the alcohol part) to me many times through the years. She is the devoted mother to two beautiful daughters, so the idea of five feels rather daunting to her. My answer to the question varies depending on the moment. Often I say, "I can't imagine it any other way; it just feels normal." Other times, a different, but equally truthful, answer comes to mind: "I focus my attention on the one who needs me most at the time, and the others sorta take care of each other."

That's how it's been this past week. Focusing on the one who needs me most at the time.

Newlyweds Eli and Amanda have been blessed with the most wonderful opportunity. Amanda landed an incredible job as an apartment manager at The Ridge, the very property where she and Eli lived when they met. It all happened quickly, though, and there was much to do. They had to find someone to buy out the contract on their old apartment and then move to the new one at The Ridge, all in less than a week. This job provides a lovely, spacious apartment with two giant bedrooms, all free of charge with utilities included. See what I mean about it being an incredible blessing?!

They asked if Gerald and I would be able to go to Rexburg last weekend to help them pack up and move. We were so excited to see the new apartment (and them!!) that we happily agreed. I was just grateful it wasn't the following week when Shulamith would be having surgery (Remember: focus on the one who needs you the most at the time). We drove to Rexburg early last Saturday morning and spent the day packing and moving. Their apartment is seriously so, so great; I sorta wanted to move there myself. Sunday, we cleaned the old apartment and helped the new family move in before we all drove back to Utah late Sunday night. Amanda had three days of training here in Draper Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. We enjoyed some good "Eli time" while she spent three days absorbing copious amounts of information related to her new job. Amanda, you're gonna be great!

In the middle of all that, Shulamith and I prepared 24 freezer meals, 12 for her in preparation for the upcoming surgery recovery, and 12 for me in hopes it might motivate me to eat at home more. Yeah, that won't happen, but it sounds good.

Eli and Amanda returned to Rexburg Wednesday night, and very early (5:30!) Thursday morning, Shulamith and I drove to the hospital for her surgery to remove a hematoma from her uterus and to strengthen and repair the uterus sufficiently to support future pregnancies. I have been to the hospital with each of my five children at one time or another. Still, I'm not used to it. I worry. I worry lots. My own dumb anxiety kicks into full gear. It is what it is.

One very fun thing happened, though; I got to wear this name tag:

Yep, I got to be "Shulamith W." for the morning. And it was pretty cool. You see I love the name "Shulamith." It's probably my favorite girl's name in the whole world. And my name? Can you really think of anything more lackluster than my name? I try to glam it up a bit by combining "Terri" and "Ann" together as one word and even adding an "e" on the end, but really, let's cut the crap: It's a boring name. "Shulamith," on the other hand, is properly glamorous, and I loved wearing this name tag and pretending it was mine. Truth, though, in the surgery waiting room, the friend or family member waiting for the patient in surgery wears the name tag of the patient, so when medical personnel come looking, they can easily spot the right person to talk to.

The surgery took about 1.5 hours, but she was gone an hour longer because her doctor had to go deliver a baby just as she was being rolled into the OR. I did pretty well (for me, that is) waiting. Let's just say my anxiety has spun way more crazy at other times, so I felt proud to keep it somewhat under control for the 2.5 hours I sat in that waiting room, wearing my "Shulamith W." name tag. I was even able to distract myself with a book about a girl who hit her head and lost her memory of the past 10 years, which included the births of three children and a marriage breakup. It's good; you should definitely read it.

But you can't begin to imagine my relief when I saw Shulamith's doctor walk into the waiting room looking for me. He was smiling from ear to ear, so happy to report the excellent news. You see, this whole deal has not been at all normal. Placenta accreta in the first trimester and post miscarriage never happens, never. So this nice doctor really had no idea what to expect when he began the surgery. But his exact words to me, once we moved to a private area, were, "This is absolutely the best possible outcome we could have hoped for." As tears poured down my face, he explained that he removed the golf ball sized mass (probably a hematoma and old pregnancy tissue) from the outside of the uterus and strengthened and reinforced the old C-section scar three times over, and in just a few short months, she would be in the clear to get pregnant again.

My baby can have another baby! She can have the family she has dreamed of. This nightmare is over, and everything is okay. I texted Matt immediately with the news and told him I was being my wimpy self and crying from relief, and I didn't even care if he made fun of me because I was just so happy. I had to wait another 30 minutes to see Shulamith and tell her the great news. She stayed in the hospital overnight and most of yesterday. When I think of the very best part of all that, two things come to mind--(1) the unlimited Diet Coke on tap just about five steps from her room and (2) when Matt brought their two kids to visit. Her oldest, 4-year-old Swen, was mostly interested in watching the cars out the window and twirling around in the privacy curtains that hang from the ceiling, that is until a nurse came in to check Shulamith's vitals:

"Wa, wa, wa, wait. Wait! What are you doing to Mommy?" he boldly asked the nurse. Protective of her already, he is. As the mom to four sons, I get this. And I love it. Then there was 2-year-old Kennedy, who just wanted snuggles.

We came home about 5:00 p.m. just in time for me to help Isaiah do laundry and get ready for three weeks on the road (Focus on the one who needs you the most at the time). He got all packed, and I drove him to the airport for his 10:30 flight. He will attend the DotA international tournament in Seattle this coming week (vacation!) followed by a week in San Francisco and a week in Vegas, both for work.

About the time I returned home, Seth texted that he had finished his shift at Mac. Grill and needed a ride. Ahh, Seth, the fifth and final. I feel like he's gotten only the leftovers this past week, and there hasn't been much left over. Grateful for a super cool Young Men's President, who took him out Pokemon catching one night and for the fact that Seth is honestly the most mature, responsible, and independent 16-year-old I know. As one blogger put it, "You are the last great love of our lives."

And there you have it. One week. Has it really only been one? I'm sitting here in my recliner blogging. I hear raindrops outside, which means it's time to go for a quick run because those precious drops never last long. Then I might even take a nap. Or finish my book about the girl with amnesia. Or wait for gymnastics to come on the Olympics.

Whatever I do, I will continue to be the mom to five, focusing on the one who needs me most at the time.