Take Note!

I've long believed that as our kids grow, the way to keep a close connection with them is to meet them where they are. If we wait for them to come to us, to be interested in what we are, we might wait forever. So once upon a time, in our totally non-sports family, Isaiah moved to Salt Lake City to attend Westminster College. It was the fall of 2009, and we were still living in Montana. Not too long after he came here, Isaiah became one of the most faithful, dedicated Utah Jazz fans I've ever known.

That was nine years ago. He can now tell you stats on all the players, as well as stats on star players from other NBA teams. He knows outcomes from past seasons, which teams won championships, whom they had to beat to do it, what the final scores were, and how each series played out. He knows about coaches, their histories and records. He knows about players, their free throw averages and their personal lives. He's like a freakin' NBA encyclopedia, and his near photographic memory helps.

So what about me? My dad loved basketball, the NBA, and specifically the Portland Trailblazers. My brother does too. His daughters too. And my mom. But I remained blissfully uninvolved, with zero interest in any of this for many years. It seemed so boring. Up and down the court, over and over, they go. It's always the same.

All that changed a couple of years ago, when I realized that one lovely way to connect with Isaiah was to care about Jazz basketball. Instead of leaving the room when he was watching a game, I started to sit down and actually watch and ask questions. And I began to learn. Isaiah has taught me everything I know about basketball and the NBA. I know about Coach Snyder and his brilliance as a player developer. I know about different plays, the alley-oop and the pick and roll (both offensive plays, if you were wondering), and about good defense and how not to foul (unless it's the very end of the game and you're behind, and a foul is the best way to get the ball back).

There is still way more that I don't know than what I do, but I'm learning every game. This has been an incredible year for the Jazz. On February 14th, when Rudy Gobert declared that the team would "no doubt" make the playoffs, many felt he was overly optimistic. He was absolutely right, and not only did they qualify, they did so as a 5th seed. Just as soon as a playoff spot was cinched, Isaiah texted on the family chat that he was looking for tickets. He got tickets for Shulamith, Seth, himself, and me for last Saturday night's game against our opponent this first round, the OKC Thunder.

It was A-M-A-Z-I-N-G! So, so great. Not sure I've ever seen so much energy in one arena. Seth wore his Jazz socks:

All of us donned the bright red "Take Note" t-shirts provided. Others had orange ones or yellow, but we were thrilled to be in the "red" section.

Yep, it was just as exciting as it looks right here:

The Jazz came into this game tied with the Thunder, one game each in the series. So we were just a little excited when Ricky Rubio and friends blew that Thunder right down to the ground with a huge win, only to be followed Monday by another solid win. The series was suddenly Jazz 3 - Thunder 1. Woo. All they needed to do was return to Oklahoma and win one more game. Easy Peasy. And it seemed that way at the start, but, as I always say, sometimes it's the other team's turn to win. Things went downhill fast in the second half, and OKC came out on top.

No worries. Series still favors Jazz, 3-2. Tonight's another night. We're back home, with a crowd that I'm certain will equal the intensity of last Saturday, except we won't be there. We will watch on TV, well some of us will. As I write, Shulamith just said, "Are you gonna tell them you don't really watch, that you're just a poser?" That's not completely true. I watch. Sometimes. I watch when they're leading by a ton. These close games are too stressful. I get way too invested. Then I get angry with myself because duh, it's just a game. With a ball. And two baskets. And a bunch of very cool kids with unbelievable athletic skills.

Honestly, my anxiety over this whole thing goes back to the reason I started watching in the first place: Isaiah. Isaiah loves this team. It makes him so happy when they do well. I love Isaiah, and I want him to be happy. That's the whole thing, really.

Even if they lose tonight, it's not over. They'll return to OKC for Game #7, the exact position they were in last year at this time. That one turned out fine, but as Isaiah says, "Lightning doesn't usually strike twice in the same place." We'd rather end it tonight. So good luck, dear ones. I know we don't know each other, we're not friends, but I'm a fan. First I was a mother. And because I'm a mother, now I'm a fan. I know you all have your own mothers, but from this mother/fan, I'm talking to you, Donovan, Ricky, Derrick, Rudy, Joe, Jae, and others.

TAKE NOTE: You've totally got this.

I Think I Was Napping: Another Parable of Talents

I was thinking recently about talents. We learn in D&C 46:11: "For all have not every gift given unto them; for there are many gifts, and to every man is given a gift by the Spirit of God." We are also directed to use our talents to bless our fellow humans and to glorify God, and if we don't use them for good, they might be taken away.

That's a little scary for someone like me, with so few in the first place.

But let's backtrack. For those unfamiliar with my faith, we believe that all of us lived eternally, long before we ever came to earth, as spirit children of Heavenly Parents. There came a time when we had progressed as far as we could, living in Heaven as spirits; we needed more in order to become like our Heavenly Parents. We needed physical bodies. We needed to experience adversity. We needed the opportunity to further exercise and practice our agency. And, thus, the Plan of Salvation was laid out, and we rejoiced at the opportunity to come to earth. We knew we would falter at times, that the experience of mortality would be trying, and that sometimes we wouldn't follow perfectly. But we also knew that for those times, we would be provided a Savior, whose healing atonement would cover all our pain, guilt, and suffering.

Here's where the plot gets a little foggy. The veil of mortality, necessary for us to act in faith, has left me (and all of us) without memory of my pre-earth life. I'm forced to use my imagination. Here's what I think might have happened:

The day the talents were being passed out, I figure I must have been doing what I do best: napping! Yep, as others lined up to receive specific talents tailor made for them, I was nowhere to be found. Eventually, my BFF Shulamith noticed and, as she always does, quickly came to my rescue:

"Mom! Wake up! You're missing all the talents. Hurry!" (She knew even then that we would get to be on earth at approximately the same time and that I would get to be her earthly mom.)

So run I did, just as fast as I could (which wasn't terribly fast; fast running was a talent I'd never have), arriving just as the very last talents were being distributed. I was told that there were only two left, but that they were the perfect ones for me: public speaking and writing/editing. What I didn't know at the time was that my tardiness meant I would totally suck at just about everything else. I wouldn't come to understand just how true that was until I was already here, trying to navigate earth life with just two talents.

I can't cook or sew or do crafts. I have the opposite of the Midas touch; everything I touch turns to "ugly." I'm not an athlete, I can't sing well, and I'm abysmal at learning new technology. I'm not good at math or science, I can't read maps, and my visual/spatial ability is pretty much nonexistent.  I lose all board games, I can't draw or paint (I have no idea what anything looks like), and I have no clue how to decorate my home or make my stupid yard look decent. I could go on. I won't. If you can think of some other skill, you can assume I suck at that one too.

Nevertheless, I remain hopeful. Despite my tendency to nap through important meetings, I still feel confident that the two talents I was blessed with were just right for me, and I trust that if I use them to bless others, all will be well. So I really try!

Two weekends ago, I was in Rexburg for Amanda's graduation and also to visit my friend Lindsey. As Lindsey and I were eating lunch at Taco Time, which she made me choose, even though I'm awful at making decisions, we talked a bit about my editing skills. As the BYU-I semester had just ended, I had recently helped her edit a couple term papers. She commented that she likes the way I can read what she writes and then revise it to say exactly what she means. Through the years, each of my children has made a similar comment, and it soothes my soul to be able to serve my friends and family in this way. I can't cook them good food. I can't sew the tiny triangles on their Cub Scout uniforms. I can't throw them cool birthday parties. I can't decorate them a beautiful home or repair their car.

But dang, I can edit their writing to near perfection, making it clear, precise, concise, and correct! And hardly anything is more beautiful than clear, concise, correct writing. Obviously.

I've come to understand that it doesn't matter how many talents we have, as long as we magnify them best we can and use them to serve others. The numbers don't matter at all. I don't think I've ever met another person with as limited a skill set as mine, but I'm sure I'm not unique. If you, too, were napping that day in Heaven so long ago, take heart! It's all gonna be okay.

As President Hinckley liked to quote: "Everything is going work out in the end. If it hasn't worked out yet, that's because it's not the end."

Well, thank goodness!

This is NOT a cooking blog.

Obviously.

Described most accurately, it's a "mommy blog," where I write essays about my five children, with an occasional post about politics or religion or parenting or my stupid anxiety. But a cooking blog, definitely not. Because, well...

I am a terrible cook. Consequently, I can count on one hand, minus three fingers, the number of cooking posts in this blog of nine years and over 600 posts: This one and this one. 

So what would a non-cook like me want with a fancy appliance like an Instapot? It's probably a very bad idea. So much technical talk like "natural release" and "quick release" and "sealing" and "venting." Clearly too hard for me. But Shulamith and Amanda each got one for Christmas, so when Gerald gave me an Amazon gift card, I went against my better judgment and jumped off the Instapot cliff. Eeeeek!

The first thing I made was hard boiled eggs. The rumor was that eggs cooked in an Instapot peel perfectly, with no effort. I didn't believe it. It had been at least 30 years since I hard boiled an egg. Why? Because I can't peel them. And that makes me very mad. I used to get so mad that I'd squish the eggs right in my hand when they wouldn't peel right. Over and over. One time I even threw them out the window, one at a time, when I couldn't get the peels off.

At that point, I decided cooking hard boiled eggs might get me arrested or worse, so I vowed never to do it again. It became Gerald's job. Since that day, every time we need hard boiled eggs for salads or sandwiches or deviled eggs, he does it. But a week ago, I put the Instapot to the test and hard boiled a dozen eggs.

GUYS! THIS ISN'T A JOKE. IT'S NOT HYPE. IT'S NOT HYPERBOLE. IT'S LEGIT. REALLY.

Why those eggs nearly shed their shells right into my hands. They slid off in big pieces, leaving perfect, smooth, beautiful, hard boiled eggs, with no stupid dents. I was stunned. "It must be a fluke," I thought, so I tried it again. Same result. How great is that? Really great. If I never cook any other food in this thing, the pot is worth it just for these eggs.

But of course I had to be daring and try something else.

One of our favorite low-fat recipes is smokey, barbecued pulled chicken. It's good on sandwiches or on rice or just by itself. And, because I cook it, it's obviously simple. More than four ingredients = against my cooking religion.

We buy this packet of seasoning:

Then we follow the directions on the back, which means adding ketchup, brown sugar, and water, and we pour it over the chicken in a crock pot. The hardest part is remembering to do it in the morning.

Enter: Instapot!

You don't have to remember. It takes 30 minutes, start to finish. Well, it should take 30 minutes. Mine took considerably longer because of human error. I am so not good at stuff like this.

It was pretty scary! Both Shulamith and Amanda were virtually present, texting me answers to questions each step, but no one was right here with me. I tried my best to do everything right, but it turns out, the first two times I tried to pressure cook the chicken, I didn't have the lid sealed tight. Yeah, that doesn't work. Twice I tried, and twice the chicken didn't get done. Finally, I discovered my mistake, and the third time (charm!), it cooked perfectly. Look at this yummy sandwich!

This is not (and will never be) a cooking blog. But occasionally, some new cooking thing comes up, worth writing about.

As for the Instapot, I think it's a win. Especially if you've ever thrown hard boiled eggs out the window.

"Chevron: $1.08," and other interesting things about my trip to Rexburg

Early Thursday morning, I got up and taught two Chinese (VIPKID) kids. Then I promptly went back to bed for an hour, before going to Waffle Love for breakfast with Shulamith. As I tried to pay for my churro waffle with biscoff and cream, my debit card was denied. I tried it again. Denied. What the...?

Whatever. I used my credit card, thinking I'd figure it out later, and ate my yummy waffle.Then we went home, so I could pack for my weekend in Rexburg, and I was on the road before I even remembered about the debit card situation. Not wanting to stop to look up phone numbers, I called Shulamith and asked her to call Wells Fargo, pretend to be me, and find out what happened. She did.

Turns out someone got hold of my debit card numbers and made two fraudulent purchases. Wells is very good at spotting those, and they immediately deactivated my card and tried to call me, but I was busy eating a churro waffle and didn't see the call come in. As they spoke with Shulamith (who was pretending to be me), they began to run down recent charges on the card to make sure the two they caught were the only ones. That's when things got a bit embarrassing. Sprinkled among a few other purchases was the repeated: "Chevron: $1.08." Over and over and over.

Finally, Shulamith said, "This is embarrassing, but I just really love Diet Coke," to which the Wells Fargo employee replied, "It's fine. My account says 'Starbuck's: $5.00' over and over."

I guess things could always be worse.

I arrived at Lindsey's house in good time, and it was lovely to see her, as always. I don't ever get enough time with her, but this weekend we got to have lunch together at Taco Time (which I chose because I'm really good at making decisions and she's not--haha), and then we went to Deseret Book to get Eli and Amanda's anniversary present. When I finally got back to their house after dinner with Amanda's family in Idaho Falls, it was pretty late already, and we stayed up even later chatting, but it was well worth any sleep deprivation because I miss her and David very much. I have learned that good friends are hard to find, and we are wise to cherish the ones we have.

Graduation, itself, was amazing. I am so proud of Amanda for this accomplishment and so grateful I could be there to see it. BYU-Idaho does mini "convocations," in each of its colleges, so graduates can be recognized individually as they walk across the stage. Amanda's brother saved everyone wonderful seats, and we could see her perfectly. Afterward, we took these pics to remember the occasion:

(photo cred: the amazing Alex Ellsworth)

With Amanda, the graduate, and Eli just one more semester to go, these two are definitely on the road to the next chapter in their life. Fortunately, that includes coming home to Utah to be with us. And the timing could not be any better, because I arrived home Saturday to Seth needing my insurance information and wanting me to take his picture in order to complete his mission papers. Eeeeek!

Friends, I am NOT an empty nester. I'm just not. I know others do fine with it, but it's not a good fit for me. At all. But not to worry! With Seth's papers going in soon and stating availability for July 15th, I'm guessing he'll leave just about the time Eli graduates and he and Amanda come home. 

Thank heavens.

Meanwhile, I'm off to Chevorn to make a $1.08 purchase. Don't tell anyone.

Anxiety. It's kinda like privilege.

I was thinking recently about privilege and how those of us who have never been in a particular marginalized group cannot understand what it's like to be there. We can try to understand. And we do try. We try our best. But no, unless we've experienced it, we can't fully understand. My hope is that acknowledging our inability to understand brings us a baby step forward, and with each baby step, we grow kinder, more tolerant, more accepting, and more Christlike.

Then I was also thinking about anxiety. I've been struggling with it a lot lately. Too many precious people I know have serious illnesses, and unfortunately, hearing about those throws me (and my anxiety) right into the stratosphere. It occurred to me that, like privilege, those who have never experienced anxiety can't ever really understand it.

As I've mentioned before, I do this little part-time gig called VIPKID, where I teach Chinese children English, using a platform similar to Skype. When I started way back in May, I never thought I'd do it this long, but truth be told, it's somewhat addictive. You wake up at some ungodly hour of the morning (the hardest part of the whole thing); put a shirt over your pajamas; chat with a cute Chinese kid for 25 minutes, using fully-prepared lesson slides; and you're suddenly $10 richer. So you think, "Hmmm. I could do that again." And you do. You can see the pattern of addiction.

Anyway, the topics of these English lessons vary widely. They include school, colors, physical activities, recreation, shopping, landmarks, countries, and more. And animals. They include ALL KINDS of animals. Do you see where this is going? Yep, you guessed it. Recently, my favorite student Jessica (her English name) came to a section of lessons called "Fish and Reptiles." When I first saw this lesson title, I thought, "Well okay, then. My VIPKID days are over." Because no way I can look at slides with pictures of snakes. I can barely look at that word right there that I just typed; it's seriously uncomfortable.

Shulamith to the rescue. She patiently went through all 25 lesson slides, as I wrote down which ones had bad pictures. Then she told me what to say for the bad slides because I would be covering up the screen and wouldn't be able to read the instructions. If this all sounds like a giant hassle, that's because it is!!

At one point I posted a message on the VIPKID Facebook page about this, asking for suggestions of how to teach the slides without looking at them. Responses varied. I found another soul as ophidiophobic as I am. Well, almost. But this one response is what got me to thinking about anxiety as it relates to privilege. The poster commented, "Just teach the lesson. The picture of the snake can't hurt you, you know."

No shit. (Sorry, but that's exactly what I thought.)

Yes, I'm well aware that pictures can't hurt me. Or sticks. Or ropes. Or garden hoses. Or Play-doh. That's the thing about anxiety. It isn't rational. No amount of logic will make it go away. And though it isn't rational or logical, and though it makes zero sense to anyone who hasn't experienced it, trust me, it's 100% real.

As I was teaching Jessica the following morning, anxiously and systematically watching for the 12 out of 25 slides that had unfavorable pictures, and taping a piece of paper over the screen while I taught those 12 slides, I thought more about anxiety, privilege, and lack of understanding. I'm pretty sure Shulamith has never had an anxious thought in her life. I'm so grateful not to have passed my anxiety disorder onto her. As a result, she can't fully understand what it's like or why it happens. Yet she was willing to help me, without judgment, and has done so multiple times since. Why? Because although she can't understand, she loves me and believes me.

Maybe that's the second baby step in our effort to understand privilege. Maybe it's love. First, we acknowledge our lack of understanding. Then we seek to love and believe others whose circumstances and experiences are different from ours.

Anxiety. It's kinda like privilege. Maybe the answer to both is love.

Easter/General Conference Top 10

10. The Jazz beating the Timberwolves and sliding right into sixth place as the playoff lineup shapes up. What if we can hold onto sixth, and Portland holds third, so we play each other in the first round? That would definitely bring some family drama....and fun!

9. Explaining in 30 seconds what General Conference is to the cashier at Chevron. Saturday evening, Amanda and I raced into Chevron to grab Diet Cokes, just minutes before the Priesthood session, where Eli was singing in the choir.

     Gas station guy: "You in a hurry?"
     Me: "Yes! Our church on TV starts in five minutes!"

8.  Amanda's family stopping by Easter evening. We don't have any extended family in Utah, and I always dream of a big family for holiday gatherings. So this year, Amanda's brother and his wife and daughter stopped by, along with Amanda's sister and her son, and her grandma. We had a houseful, and I loved it.

7. Study sessions! Eli is sitting for the Praxis exam tomorrow and Tuesday, the final step before his student teaching in the fall. Gerald and Amanda are helping him study.

  
6. Three of our five kids here to watch Conference with us. Shulamith, Seth, and Eli were all here for Conference. It was so great.

Seth, eating some General Conference Taco Bell

Shulamith and her baby, Theodore

Shulamith's daughter, Kennedy, getting her hair and makeup done by sweet Amanda!

Sunday afternoon session
  
5.  Isaiah bounding through the door in time for Easter dinner. I love it when he's here.

4. ...which made this possible:

Ooooh, look at these cute babies, four of my five home for Easter dinner! I love them so much. Shulamith looks short when I'm not in the picture.

3. Easter egg hunts. Fairly certain he won't be with us the next two Easters as his mission papers are about ready to submit, Seth was determined to find all the eggs. I think Eli found five, but Seth got the other 31.

2. Watching Eli sing in the choir for the Priesthood session of Conference. How many moms get to see not one, but two, of their children sing in General Conference? Not that many, I don't think. Back in October, Seth sang in a youth choir for Conference, and this time, Eli sang in a men's choir from BYU-Idaho. He was so excited. Can you blame him?

Headed downtown!

Amanda and Shulamith and I were cheering so loud every time we saw him on TV that we scared Shulamith's poor baby, Theodore. Gerald got to attend in person in the conference center, like I did last time when Seth sang. What an incredible opportunity!

1. Sustaining a new prophet, President Russell M. Nelson and two new apostles, Elder Gerrit W. Gong and Elder Ulisses Soares, the first-ever Chinese-American and Latin American apostles, respectively. We each stood up in front of the TV when our respective group was called Saturday morning to join in the sustaining vote. It was truly amazing.

The semiannual General Conference of our church occurs the first weekend of every April and October. Occasionally, Easter (whose date changes with the moon) happens that same weekend. I really love those years. While most talks in General Conference focus on the savior, when Easter coincides with Conference weekend, the talks naturally focus even more completely on the atonement and resurrection. This time was no exception. Intertwined with these beautiful, Christ-centered messages from our leaders, our newly sustained prophet, President Nelson, announced two major program adjustments and several new temples is various areas of the world, as he moves the Church forward under the Lord's direction.

I am ever grateful to be part of it.