Because My Friend, Rachael, Asked...

Okay, this will be quick. My friend, Rachael, whom I love for many reasons, not the least of which is that she is a devoted reader of this blog, asked me to do a quick post about when to use quotation marks like this: "____" and when to use them like this: '______.'

Simple.

Use double quotation marks in all situations, except one: quotations within quotations. Use single quotation marks for quotations within quotations.

For example,

The CEO explained, "When I interviewed the candidate for the position, he told me that he was simply 'the best person for the job.'"

In the example above,  the comment by the candidate is a direct quotation within the larger quotation by the CEO. Note that there are three marks at the end of the sentence. The single mark indicates the end of the quotation within the quotation, and the double marks indicate the end of the larger quotation.

It could also look like this:

The CEO explained, "When I interviewed the candidate for the position, he told me that he was simply 'the best person for the job,' a comment which I found terribly arrogant."

This makes sense, yes?

As an aside, keep in mind that commas and periods always belong inside the quotation marks. I see it the other way ALL THE TIME. Ugh!

On the other hand, question marks and exclamation marks should go either inside or outside the quotation marks, depending on whether they are part of the direct quotation or part of the entire sentence.

For example,

He said, "Do you love me?"

In this case, the quotation, itself, is a question, so the question mark belongs inside.

In contrast,

Did he say "I love you"?

In this case, the quotation is a statement, not a question. The question is the entire sentence, so the question mark belongs on the outside.

Oh my goodness, isn't grammar fun? I have all kinds of endorphins going on just writing about it.

Thanks, Rachael!

Sunday in Paradise

I'm going to make a confession. I went to Paradise today. On a Sunday. For three hours. Why? Because I desperately needed a quiet place to work, uninterrupted and sans distractions. You see, I contracted during this 4-week semester break to write curriculum for a new course we are piloting this fall. I have been working diligently on this project, a little bit each day, for the past two weeks, but it's now crunch time because it has to be delivered, fully pasted into our online management system, by Wednesday.

And it is fairly impossible to work efficiently in my house. Eight people live here, and I couldn't be any happier about that. Our home is bursting with energy of one kind or another pretty much all the time. It's perfect! But it is not conducive to the type of streamlined focus required to do this particular type of work. Where can one find that type of environment?

Paradise!

By that, I mean Paradise Bakery. It is a lovely little cafe up on Ft. Union (other locations too, but I go to Ft. Union) with free, fast WiFi; comfy booths; electrical outlets; pleasant lighting, yummy cookies; and a fountain with Diet Coke not 10 steps from my favorite table. My first exposure to Paradise Bakery was several years ago before we lived in Utah, when I used to fly here every month or so to visit Shulamith. On one of those weekends, her Internet wasn't working, so we had to go to Paradise to get online.

Today when our church got out at noon, I asked Gerald to drop me off at Paradise, laptop and textbook in tow, with a goal to make serious progress toward meeting my Wednesday deadline. So I am really a stay-at-home mom with very little career aspiration, but today I totally felt like a businesswoman, all cool-like, setting up my laptop next to my textbook and notes. I went straight to work and was fully engaged by 1:15, but by 1:20 it occurred to me that I was freezing! Why do business establishments feel the need to air-condition their buildings down to sub-zero temperatures in the middle of summer??? I was really too cold to function, so I texted Gerald and asked him how he felt about bringing me a hoodie. I don't know how he felt about it, but he did it willingly, and by 1:30 I was back to work.

And that's the last thing I remember until 4:15. Seriously. It was suddenly 4:15, and this nice employee was at my table informing me that the restaurant closed at 3:00 and he would be locking up and leaving in 10 minutes. For real? I had honestly sat there for three hours and not noticed that for the last hour, I was the only customer? What a ditz!

"What? I'm so sorry! I had no idea you closed at 3:00. I would have left. You should have kicked me out."

"No worries, Miss. I didn't want to bother you. You looked really busy."

I quickly gathered up my laptop, etc. and left, sat outside on some nice patio furniture, and texted Gerald to come pick me up. At that point I became aware of my physical body. My brain felt fried. My eyes burned. And I really needed to go to the bathroom! But oh, what progress I had made. Just need to proofread files and tweak a couple assignments, and I'll be ready to submit. Yeah, baby!

But before you get too far into congratulating me on my fine progress, I should mention what happened later. We came home and ate dinner. Eli and Shulamith kindly helped me prepare cube steaks, eggs, and waffles. Then we watched a TV show, and Shulamith left to put her babies to bed, and Seth called Gerald and Eli and me for FHE. He had planned the lesson about the importance of free agency, which he presented so nicely with scriptures and good questions. He's gonna be a wonderful missionary in another four years or so. But then, right at the end, he had this to say:

"So we all have our free agency. For example, Mom thinks it's okay to go to restaurants and buy stuff on the Sabbath. But Eli thinks it's not okay for lots and lots of reasons. So they both have their free agency to choose."

Great.

I've obviously set a fine example for my young, impressionable 14-year-old today.

Sunday in paradise.

"I do believe I have been changed for the better...

...and because I knew you, I have been changed for good."

Saturday evening, Eli and I got all dressed up,

hopped on Trax,

and headed to the Capitol Theatre in downtown Salt Lake City to see the Broadway musical "Wicked."

It was epic.

We share a love for the theatre, Eli and I. Shulamith too, but because she has a 2-month-old baby who likes to eat all the time, she couldn't go with us. And though I reminded her pretty much all day about how jealous she should be, in reality, it was hard to go without her. She would have loved it as much as we did. The last show we saw at the Capitol was "Mamma Mia." It was in June of 2011, so over three years ago. Much has changed since then. We weren't even living in Utah at that time; we would move here the following month. Shulamith had no babies yet. Eli had just graduated from high school. Seth had just finished 5th grade. I thought about all those things as we made our way through the crowd, stopping to take this photo, and as we entered the theater and climbed up and up and up to the only seats we can ever afford.

Even from high in the balcony, we were utterly captivated, taken from this world and dropped into another, into the story told in music and dance of the young girl Elphaba and her transformation into arguably the most notorious, most feared character in movie history, the infamous Wicked Witch of the West from The Wizard of Oz. I grew up watching that movie. I saw it dozens of times. Every time, I longed to be Glinda, sparkling in her elegant ball gown. Every time, I hid behind my mom as I anticipated the arrival of the Wicked Witch. Grateful I am to finally know her story, to look at the whole tale with new perspective.

Grateful I am for the lessons of friendship I learned from Glinda and Elphaba, two so different yet so alike. Friendship matters to me. A lot. Perhaps it's because I come from such a tiny family; in many ways, my friends become my family. As the saying goes, "Friends are the family we choose." I found myself reflecting on some of my own relationships and how my life is, indeed, "changed for the better."

I have been changed for the better because of my friend, Lorrie. From her I have witnessed strength and resilience and joy. Faced with troubles whether big or small, she finds the light in every situation and walks forward in faith that everything will ultimately work out fine. And it does.

I have been changed for the better because of my friend, Patty. From her I have learned that there are always different ways to look at the same issue, a myriad of possibilities, numerous viable options. Her analytical mind is positively brilliant. Whenever I'm struggling to figure something out, Shulalmith says, "Have you asked Patty what she thinks?" And I always do.

I have been changed for the better because of my friend, Lindsey. From her I have learned what loyalty is, unwavering dedication to family. What a devoted wife and mom she is! And daughter and aunt and sister. And friend. My friend. She "gets" me when others sometimes don't. I can tell her anything without fear of judgment. Everyone needs someone like that in her life.

Some people come into our lives for just a second, others for a season, others for a lifetime. These three came for a lifetime. They stayed. I don't mean that in a geographical sense. Sadly, not one of these three strong, beautiful women lives here in the Salt Lake area. One is in Washington. One is in Idaho. One is in Southern Utah. Still, they stayed. They stayed close, close in spirit, close in heart, close in love. They continue to influence my life.

Like Glinda and Elphapa, "I do believe I have been changed for the better, and because I knew you, I have been changed for good."

Kid's n' Cart's - Rhetoric Rant

Okay, you have to admit, I haven't done a rhetoric rant for quite some time. I can't even remember the last time I wrote one, but today, I have no choice. None.

Because what I witnessed yesterday was just too over-the-top egregious to ignore. I was innocently minding my own business in the front area of Harmon's, where they keep the grocery carts. I was waiting for a "car cart" for Shulamith's little boy, Swen. To say Swen is fond of cars (which he calls gawks) is a gross understatement; he is positively obsessed. He grows more delighted each new day than the one before with the number of gawks that exist in the world. They're everywhere!

So when grocery stores provide shopping carts that look like "gawks," oh the joy! That is, of course, if one is available. Sometimes they are all in use. This is not a good day. Swen refuses to ride in a shopping cart that is not a gawk. And who can blame him? I wouldn't either, if I loved gawks as much as he does. So sometimes we have to wait for a car cart (aka every parent's answer to keeping a toddler happy in a grocery store) to become available, which was the case yesterday. As we waited, I happened to glance upward where I saw this very large sign:

NO, I AM NOT KIDDING. I have not altered this photo. It really does look just like this. Blechhhhh!

Can we just take a step backward and focus our attention for one second on apostrophes? Generally, apostrophes do two things: create contractions and show possession. That's pretty much all. In the above phrase, I can't even tell for sure what the message is supposed to be. Is it "Kids AND carts"? Or "Kids IN Carts"? Impossible to tell. Apostrophes in contractions replace letters that have been left out. So if the folks who made this sign meant "and," then it should be 'N' with apostrophes to replace the "a" and the "d." If they meant "in," then it should be 'N, with the apostrophe to replace the "i." Either way, N' makes no sense and creates utter confusion.

Next we have apostrophes in the other two words: "kid's" and "cart's." Why do these words contain apostrophes? I haven't a clue. Apostrophes in nouns show possession or ownership, but in this case, neither of these nouns is possessing or owning anything. It makes me wonder if the sign maker paused and thought, "I haven't used an apostrophe in a while, so maybe I'll just add a couple here." It's that random!

By now I was about to have a meltdown right there in the grocery store, but Swen saved the day when, with anxious eyes and sheer exuberance, he exclaimed, "Big Gawk!" Indeed, one of those precious, sought-after car carts, a bright red one even, was right there in front of us. Into the gawk he went, and off we were to do our shopping.

But not before I took a picture to document this this atrocity and, of course, to serve as the foundation for yet another rhetoric rant.

"Not the Same River"

I wrote earlier about FINALLY getting my van all legal and registered. I'm still so excited to be driving it again; it's almost like having a new car. But more interesting than that was Eli's reaction. A few days ago we were sitting around just chillin', when out of the blue, the following conversation occurred:

Eli: Now that the van is fixed, we can go to Disneyland!

Mom: You want to go to Disneyland?

Eli: Yeah. You guys went there when I was on my mission [guilty], so I want to go. And now that the van is fixed, we have enough room for all of us.

Mom: There are only seven seats in the van.

Eli: That's all we need. For the seven of us.

Mom: Wait...you want JUST the seven of us from our original family to go to Disneyland in the van?

Eli:  Yes.

Mom: You mean you want Luke to come from Indiana, and Shulamith to leave her two children, so we can all go to Disneyland together?

Eli:  Yes. It's perfect now that the van is fixed.

Mom: Honey, that is really never gonna happen. It's just not.


And on some level, Eli has to know this. He has to.

But it was such a sweet thought.

Let me be clear from the start that this has absolutely nothing to do with Eli's feelings about Shulamith's husband, Mathew or Luke's wife, Désirée. He likes them. He likes both of them. Instead, it speaks to his memories, his memories of the joy of childhood, all the "together" times when it was just Gerald and I and our five kids. How old does one have to be to feel nostalgic? I think Eli has reached that age, whatever it is. Nostalgia doesn't mean one is living in the past or even that one is yearning for the past; it means one cherishes memories of times gone by, times that however lovely, are no more.

I remember the year Shulamith and Matt got engaged. It was December, 2009, and Matt and I pulled off the biggest engagement surprise in the history of ever. Matt was with us in Billings up until Christmas Eve, when he flew home to Salt Lake City to be with his family. That evening, I remember thinking, "Tomorrow will be the last Christmas it is just the seven of us." That realization was not accompanied by any particular emotion, happy or sad. Still, it felt important. It felt like something worth acknowledging. The end of an era and the beginning of something very new.

The poet said, "A man cannot step into the same river twice. For it is not the same river, and he is not the same man." 

Eli, one day you too will marry, as will Isaiah, and a long long time from now, even Seth. And the future will be joyous. But no, the family trip to Disneyland with the seven of us in the minivan is not likely to ever come about. Still, I'm glad you treasure the memories just as I do.

I hope the others do as well.

If you give a girl a muffin...

....she eats it. And then she eats another one, and then another. And then she gives some to her husband and son. 'Til soon all the muffin batter you made is gone, and you need to make more.

Which is what happened yesterday.

Back story, I make muffin batter for Shulamith. Lots of it. Years ago, Gerald's mom gave us the recipe for the very best bran muffin in the world. I'm not kidding. It really is. As you know, most stuff I cook isn't good. Some of my family members eat what I cook just to be nice (this would be Gerald and Eli); others pretty much refuse to eat anything I cook (this would be Isaiah and Seth). Nevertheless, my bran muffins are spectacular. They are so delicious, and pretty much everyone thinks so.

This experience is foreign to me, to have people genuinely like something I cook, even like it enough to ask me to make it again. And again. And again. I have to admit; it's gratifying. That's what happened with these muffins. One wonderful thing about them is the batter stays good for 30 days in the fridge. So you can make up a batch and then bake them one, or two, or a dozen at a time, whenever you like.

So a while back I made a batch of batter for Shulamith. I doubled the recipe, so it filled the largest size Tupperware bowl, and I thought for sure it would last a month.  I was wrong. Apparently, when they eat them, Matt eats four muffins, Shulamith eats two, and Swen eats one. If they eat them every day, that's 49 muffins a week! Haha, I don't think they really eat them every single day, but the double batch was gone in about two weeks. So I made more. And more!

Would you like the recipe for these delicious muffins? I can't think why you wouldn't.

 Best Bran Muffins in the World

1 1/2 C sugar
1/2 C oil 
2 eggs
2 C. buttermilk
2 1/2 C flour
2 1/2 tsp. soda
1/2 tsp. salt
2 C. Kellogg's All Bran cereal

Mix up all this stuff in a large bowl. Then....

1 C. bran flakes cereal (any type)
1 C. boiling water

Combine and add last. Mix it all up.
 
Spray muffin pan (because these don't work so well with liners). Pour batter into muffin pan. Bake at 400 degrees for 15-20 minutes. Yum!

So back to yesterday. I knew Shulamith was out of muffin batter, and I knew that on Monday my last set of essays would come pouring in because my semester ends in two weeks (W00T!), so I decided first thing I would make a double batch of batter. I checked to see what ingredients I already had and what I would need to buy. I glanced in the fridge to make sure I had four eggs (yep, exactly four!), and then I left for the store to get All Bran cereal and buttermilk.

Home again, I began by measuring the sugar and oil into the bowl. Then I went to the fridge to get the eggs, but to my great surprise: no eggs! What? I just checked 20 minutes ago. Or did I? Yes, I did. I asked Gerald, who had been sitting right there at his computer the whole time I was gone, if he had any idea where my eggs went, but he didn't. I texted Shulamith. Mystery solved. She had come up to get the eggs so Matt could cook breakfast. So back to the store I went, right away, because I don't really "get" cooking, so I didn't know how long you can leave sugar and oil just sitting in a bowl.

The end result is a brand new double batch of muffin batter now sits downstairs in the Webster-Monsons' fridge. Which is perfect, because if you give a girl a muffin, she eats it. And then she eats another one, and then another.

Minivan Mom Returns Plus Hot, Fresh Bread

I am the classic, quintessential minivan mom. I would say "soccer mom" except only two of my kids played soccer, but you get the idea.

I LOVE driving a minivan. I love everything about it.

I love all the space inside. I love sitting up high off the ground; it makes me feel in control of the road. I love having seven seats, enough to fit any combination of my kids, with plenty of room for their friends. I love the space in back for a week's worth of groceries. The list goes on.

We bought our first minivan in 1991, when we were expecting Isaiah. Our little Volkswagen Fox had only four seats, and with our third child on the way, a minivan was the obvious choice. We bought a 1990 Plymouth Voyager, and for the first time ever, I fell in love with a car. It was everything I wanted.

We tend to drive our vehicles until they stop in the middle of the road and emit thick, black smoke, so it's no surprise we still had this van when Baby Isaiah was 14 years old and ready to learn to drive. Yes, they let 14-year-olds get learner's permits in Montana. Isaiah's opinion on learning to drive the same car his parents used to bring him home from the hospital was "it's just wrong." Nevertheless, that is the car he drove when he took his driver's test. In its final few months, the van tended to overheat, so I had to carry around gallon milk cartons full of water, and then stop every few miles to add water. Can't even begin to tell you how fun that was.

Finally, in the summer of 2005, Gerald came home one night with a new minivan for me, a 2004 Oldsmobile Silhouette. I didn't love the color (boring tan), but I loved the car. Almost as much as my Voyager. It was my car for four years, until Eli sort of kidnapped it his last two years of high school and used it to pick up all his friends at 6:00 a.m. each day and drive them to early-morning seminary. So how could I really argue with that? When he graduated, we moved to Utah, and I reclaimed my minivan.

A year later, Eli left for his mission, and we were pinching pennies to support him, along with helping Isaiah with college tuition. A few months later it came time to renew our registration. Here in Utah, they have this thing called "emissions and inspection." That means that not only do we have to pass a smog test, but we also have to pass a safety screen. By this point, my lovely van had just a few issues, a broken windshield and missing right front headlight to name a couple. When I began to add up the cost to get it to pass inspection and to renew the registration, the number was well over $500. First, you have to pay for the inspection. Then you have to pay to get all the stuff done they tell you is necessary. Then you still have to pay for the registration and tabs.

So we didn't do it. We just didn't do it, and fairly soon, we stopped driving the van. We never intended it to be so long, but days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months, and we were getting along okay without the van for the most part. Gerald and I just shared our other car. It was fine. When Gerald's at work, I spend much of my time with Shulamith anyway, and she has a car, so yeah.

Then this past March, with more joy than I can put into words, we welcomed Eli home. And suddenly THREE people were sharing one car. Every night, I'd lie in bed and try to sort out all the transportation needs for the following day. Then I'd get up in the morning, tired from the lost sleep worrying about it, and explain the schedule to everyone. It was a hassle. For real. But I still didn't have an extra $500+ sitting around to get my van registered, so we limped along.

About a month ago, my mom was blessed to receive an inheritance, and she told me she wanted to use some of it to pay to get my van registered. I explained to her how much it would cost, all the stuff I knew would need fixing, then the inspection fees, and ultimately the cost of registration. But she still wanted to do it. And not only that; she said she also wanted to pay to have the van professionally detailed, so I would not only have a car back, but I would have a very clean car. A couple weeks later, she deposited the money into my bank account. Hooray!!!!!!!!!! Thanks so much, Mom.

I got right to work and replaced the windshield and bought a new headlight assembly, which Gerald installed. Then I took it through emissions and inspection, and it passed. After a quick trip to the DMV, my van was legal again, and the minivan mom was on the road. Then just the other day, I had it detailed, which by the way, is the best. thing. ever. Oh, it is so clean. Sometimes I just sit in it, just sit there, basking in the clean.

Not only has this alleviated our transportation issues, I feel like I have my identity back. Driving a minivan is more than what I do; it's sort of who I am. I hope that doesn't sound too pathetic. Ha!

And one more thing. I had a bit of money left over after I paid for everything car-related, and I asked my mom if I could use it to replace our old bread machine. It was actually she who had given us the bread machine in the first place, for Christmas years ago. As most of you know, I have woefully limited homemaking skills. I don't cook well; I certainly don't bake bread. But I can handle adding water, mix, and yeast to a machine and pushing "start." We loved this bread machine so much. It made literally hundreds of loaves of fresh, hot bread for our family for years, until finally, like all things, it wore out. That was about a year ago.

Since then, we have all missed our yummy bread, especially on Sunday. For some reason, people get extra hungry on Sunday; everyone comes home from church crazy starving. It's not that on other days we eat every three hours; we don't. Of course we don't. Yet, on Sunday, we walk in the door, and everyone is dying for food. Best ever is when there his hot, fresh bread waiting in the bread machine. So when my mom said "yes," Shulamith and I went right out and bought a new machine. Here is the delicious result:

Minivan mom returns plus hot, fresh bread!