How to act suspiciously

We like to call 911 at our house. Just for fun.
Last year it was Rosalie, age one, who dialed for emergency help. Have you ever noticed that the 9 and the 1 are conveniently located near the edges of the phone where fat little thumbs can squeeze them repeatedly?
That's when we learned that they have to dispatch an officer whenever there is a call. Just in case someone is trying to get help and someone else, like a kidnapper, is stopping them.

This time it was our 10-year-old calling 911 just to shock her older sister.
"I thought the phone was off!" she protested, when her dad informed her the police had returned her call.
When the officer arrived, (Finally! Good thing it wasn't a real emergency.) she refused to face him and hid behind her hands and her dad until he left. Just like someone who'd been threatened by evil kidnappers who didn't want her to be identified. Kidnappers who hoped to reassure the police by letting them see a regular family with a daughter too embarrassed to show her face. A face which was probably as red as her hair. The only red hair in the whole "family". . .

Detton-ation!

My college roommate (bff) Shelley Detton came to visit with her husband and kids the day after the 4th of July. Since they'd already seen the best Southern Utah had to offer in tractor parades and demolition derbies, we offered some different small western town activities--horse back riding (on borrowed horses) and inviting yourself over to your neighbor's pool.


Thanks to our cousins the Mckays, we can always offer a good time to our guests when they come.



At our own house we offered them activities such as pushing through a hundred yards of 4 ft. tall alfalfa to the trampoline, hiking through the back 40 to the riverbed to look for wildlife (mostly slimy water-life), and being checked for ticks on coming back home. Just kidding, we forgot to check for ticks. Shelley, if any of you start to feel feverish. . .
It was fun for my kids to get to know Shelley and Steve's kids. Their oldest, who is 7, is nearly as tall as our 10-year-old. And their 4-year-old is as tall as our 7-year-old. I'm not sure how much taller their 1-year-old is than our 2-year-old; she never held still long enough to compare them. All the kids played hard and slept little for two and a half days. It's somewhat difficult to fall or stay asleep when five kids try to share the space under the stairs.

Shelley is so talented. Not only did she bring me a present, (the blue and red bag) she also speaks couch! She walked into my living room, took one look at my two sulking sofas, plopped down one of her handmade decorator fabric bags and said, "This fabric goes with both sofas."
And lo and behold, it did. Just like that she bridged the thirty year generation gap between our old new couch and our new old couch (which we found out, from an upholstery tag inside it, was made in 1976.)

Take a look at the photo essay she did on her visit here. She makes everything look good. I wish she could stick around and be my personal decorator.

Mystery Couch

Last week Casey and I went out on a date. We had dinner (with a coupon) and then we went to the D. I. to shop for cheap stuff that other people did not want anymore. I get a thrill when I find perfectly good stuff for very little money. I get the opposite of a thrill when I pay retail for anything.
And that is where I found the couch.
I was drawn to it instantly. It's whimsical stripes. It's petite size. I hoped it would replace the tortuous love seat in Casey's office. And even if it didn't, I wanted it. It was $30! And it looked like it had never been used.
Getting it home involved swearing that I would be back for it at opening time the next day, with a bigger car. I borrowed my Father-in-law's shell covered truck, assuming that the couch would stick out the back and need to be tarped to protect it from the three-week rainstorm we'd been having. To my satisfaction, it fit all the way in. I knew I loved this couch.

And here it is, in our living room. I told my kids to act natural for some candids. So they did.




I love this couch. It is so comfy. And fun! So, wherein lies the mystery?

1.--When I showed this couch to my Songer family, they thought it was great. Sis-in-law Emily openly coveted it. (She is furnishing her first house.) When I showed it to my Hale family, they basically said, "Meh." So, mystery no. 1 is--How could anyone not like this couch?

2.--Where did it come from? It seriously looks as if it has never been used. That is not the case with any thrift store furniture I have ever seen before. And it seems to be good quality; the stripes match up across all the cushions from top to bottom. And the feet are set back under the skirt so you can't stub your toes. I know the provenance of every other sofa/love seat we've ever owned so this makes the first time we've entered the world of "Who sat here before me?"

3.--Where will I put it? It doesn't fit in Casey's office. It is not on speaking terms with the other couch in the living room. I hate to relegate it to the basement because I will never see it. Sigh. Once again I am confronted with my non-flair for decorating. But at least I have a soft place to sit while I contemplate my options.

Ahh! Fiders!!

AHHHHHHHH!!!!!


EEEEEEEEEEE!!!


Skewwy!!!


AHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!


EEEEEEEEK!!!!!


Mo', mommy! Mo' 'cary fiders!!

Disclaimer: She asked to see scary spiders. She begged to see them.


A few days later she was talking as she ate breakfast.

She: " 'Cary gogs!"
Me: "Scary dogs?"
She: " "Cary cats!"
Me: "Yeah, scary cats."

The drama was building.

She: " 'Cary mions!"
Me: "Scary lions!"

I was feeling it. Then.....

She: " 'Cary wadybugs!"

The dok, dok house

There was this time when Meredith learned a scary story and enjoyed telling it to us. She probably took the strained, eyes-popped expressions we wore for terror. But really, we were just trying not to laugh. It goes like this:

"In the dok, dok woods there was a dok, dok house.
And in the dok, dok house there was a dok, dok kitchen.
And in the dok, dok kitchen there was a dok, dok stairs.
And up the dok, dok stairs there was a dok, dok hall.
And in the dok, dok hall there was a dok, dok room.
And in the dok, dok room there was a dok, dok closet.
And in the dok, dok closet there was a dok, dok box.
And in the dok, dok box there was a Boogeyman!


She had me at dok dok.

Separation Anxiety

Rosalie is worried. The kids just went upstairs without her. ("Hey, guys!")
She turns to me and spouts a string of syllables out of which I only recognize "Emma"--the name of her visiting cousin.
"You can go, too," I say
She slips off my lap, turns and says, "Shee ya!" while waving.
Me: "Bye!"
She turns on the first step, waves and says, "Bye!"
She turns on the third step and waves.
On the fifth step she turns, waves, and says, "Yater!"
On the last step before the landing, she turns and says, "Soon!"
Just before she goes past the bend on the landing she leans around and waves one last time.
She knows I am watching her every step. She worries--I don't always handle separation well.

Happy Birthday, Rosalie! 2 Years Old! Don't grow up too fast, K?

Angels and Demons

by Lissa