Vocab

Dinner time is invaluable in its ability to teach priceless lessons on a variety of topics. For example, sometimes dinner time can teach a vocabulary lesson. Grab a pen, grab a napkin with food on it, and *bam* lesson learned. Take the other night, for instance. Neal was still at work, unfortunately, and he missed this little gem of a lesson:

Kate made sure to include Dad by addressing the napkin to him.

Here's what happened. Kate was contemplating something, and I could tell. So I asked her what the problem was. She responded with this:

"Mom. Is it true that Joseph Smith prayed to Heavenly Father and asked if sex was true? And did Heavenly Father tell him that no sex was true?"

Here's where the vocabulary lesson came to dinner. The good old "when you say 'sects,' it sounds just like 'sex'" lesson. Kate was relieved.

"Good. Because in Primary, the question was "what was Joseph Smith asking in his prayer?" And I wrote down that he was saying "which church was true." And the teacher read the scripture and said that he asked if sex was true. But then the teacher said I got it right. I was confused. And so was Tanner. His face was like (she did a shocked face) when the teacher said sects and it sounded like sex."

I can't wait to tell the primary president.

The grouchy queen asking me what I'm doing in my room.

Here's another wedding picture with a missing husband. I think I'll put this one in a frame for Neal's desk. The pictures he has of the girls are from when Abby was a new born and Sarah looked more like her age. Time for an update.

Fake Science

A couple of days ago, we were sitting in our living room visiting with some friends. Sarah was in on the conversation (those 12 year olds like to hang with the adults instead of the 7-and-under-crowd. Not sure what to think about that). Somehow we began talking about science and other fields of study. Sarah said, "I like science. Well, not ALL science. I pretty much just like science fiction." Yeah, the fake science is WAY cooler than the real deal.

Today as Abby and I were eating lunch, we were accompanied by Barbie and the Island Princess. I think of all the barbie movies, that one has the least gay music. Anyway, after I put Abigail down for a nap, I suddenly realized that I had plopped myself down on the couch and finished watching the movie. I wanted to see the part when Rosella finds her mother. What is wrong with me? No really, what IS wrong with me? Still haven't found that one out, and I still feel like crapola.

I get these emails from Groupon. They offer good deals around town. Today's groupon was for 5 pilates classes and 1 private 1 hour session. It was a great deal, but I say no way. The classes would be fine, because the pilates-farts could come from one of 6 people. But when you're in a private lesson, there's no hiding the pilates farts. It's all you.

So, we're getting ready to move. We close on our new house at the end of May. It's always nice to move because everything gets gone through and cleaned out and stashed away in an organized manner. We're sad to leave our ward, however. We're moving to the town just north of us. It's still in our stake, so Neal gets to keep his calling. But I'm getting released. I'm going to miss this ward. When we moved here 6 years ago, we had to learn how to make the ward our family. It's been amazing and taught me so much. When you learn to love people and serve with them, and spend so much time with their 12-18 year old daughters, it makes it sad to leave. But, I think in the same breath, I'm ready for a change. Being in YW for 6 years is wonderful and super fun and full of memories -- but it's hard sometimes. Especially the last couple of months because I'm so freaking tired. I'm considering telling our new bishop that I'm violent towards children, youth, relief society sisters, visiting and home teachers, scouts and ward activities. Does that cover all my bases? Not really, but kind of. . . .

It's Splits-Ville

I was at Costco yesterday (surprise), when I noticed something terrible. I was on the way to the hot dog counter to get my 59 cent drink (Lent is SO over, by the way), when I discovered that all of the fountain drinks were Pepsi!! Apparently Costco and Coke had their final break up. I know they had been arguing lately about pricing, and threatening to split, but I didn't think it would happen. I thought for sure that Coke would agree to Costco's demands. I guess not. Now I feel like a victim of their divorce. I'm sad. I sent a text message to Neal and one of my friends, expressing my dismay and asking "what the H am I to do?" Within about 2 seconds of each other, their one word, unsympathetic answers had me rolling. One said, "quit," and the other said "repent."

Yesterday I was calling around to mechanics trying to get price quotes on a procedure for my car. We have dumped Mike the Mechanic, by the way. He let us down and didn't tell the truth. He's lost a lot of business, because we have old, crappy cars that we like to fix all the time. His loss.

Anyway, whenever I need to call the mechanic, I get nervous. Right off the bat, I feel disadvantaged because I have girl parts. I like to feel like I'm in control and I hate to feel like I don't know what's going on. But guess what? I don't know what's going on, and have no control when my car breaks. So, I muster the courage, and make the call. First off, I called my trusty Firestone. We've been with them for 14 years. We're in a committed relationship. But when the man answered the phone, I realized that I couldn't remember what Neal had told me was wrong with the car. It was vague. He asks me what the problem is. Oh crap, I feel the disadvantaged dumb lady feeling start to swell in my heart. I'm going to sound like a real idiot. The conversation went something like this:

Man (let's call him Jim. That's a good Firestone name): What seems to be the problem, mam? (Already he's speaking kind of slow like he's got to help me understand all the man-talk we're about to have).

Me: Well, my husband told me to call (strike one. I'm looking stupid), and he said that the tire rods were broken.

Jim: What did you say?

Me: Tire rods

Jim: What?

*long pause*

Me: Tire rods?

Jim: Um. I don't think there is such a thing. There are things called tie rods. Maybe that's it? What is your car doing? (Now he's talking really slow and probably trying to sign with his hands)

Me: Oh yeah! They're TIE rods. Right. Sorry. Um, well, there's this rattling sound under my feet when I go over anything bumpish (I actually used the word "bumpish." I need to apologize to my sex for stepping right into our stereotype and sounding retarded in mechanical matters).

Jim: Bumpish? (snicker) Ok. Well mam, do you know (speaking super slow now) if it's the inside or the outside rods (why did he even ask that? Obviously I would have no idea)?

*pause*

Me: I don't know. Uhh, I'm an idiot.

I actually said that. At that point I gave up trying to save face and just played the clueless female. Now I actually need to take the car in today and show my face. And probably forget to leave my key, like I do EVERY TIME I go there. Then they call me on my cell phone and say they need my key. I wonder if I have some sort of asterisk on my account? "Speak slowly! Remind her to leave her key! Don't let her wild child play with the water cooler! Charge her for all sorts of stuff because she'll just say yes."

Pete's Dragon Belongs Somewhere in Dante's Inferno

Kate saw the old VHS of Pete's Dragon up in the closet. She insisted. I groaned. Sarah ran out of the room. That show really sucks. The music, the acting, the story line, and that kid, Pete. I wish the dragon would have eaten him up within the first 10 minutes of the movie. Would have saved us some torture. And what's with Nora's swinger boyfriend, anyway? You know, the sailor who is lost at sea and comes home to Pasama-what-ie? at the end. It takes a few days to get the songs out of my head. Neal kept singing that one that says, "I love you too!!" and has the dragon grunts in it. Barf. But Micky Rooney does play a good drunk.

Guess what? Kate is home sick AGAIN!! Last night just as I was falling into my deep sleep, she puked all over the carpet. Usually I can take it and chalk it up to "this is part of the mother-bargain." But last night I wasn't really feeling that way. I had to later apologize for swearing. "Mom, why were you swearing last night when you were cleaning up my barf? I was sick! Why were you so mad?" Not a proud parenting moment. Neal silently helped me clean up. I think he knew better than to say anything. Please! Barf in your blankets. They can go in the washing machine. Your carpet cannot. Sloppy joe barf.

I swear, Kate has missed so much school lately, they probably think we have some trouble at our house and have turned into migrant farm workers or something.

Last night at the dinner table, Kate was playing footsies with Neal. They had bare feet. Kate exclaimed, "Woah Dad! Do you have lady feet or something?!? I was imagining hairy feet, but they felt so soft!" I told her that's why I like to rub my feet against Neal's feet at night. They're so soft.

This picture tells a story. This is Sarah way back in the days when we lived in the cottage. She was cute little Dorothy for halloween. As you can tell from her makeup, I suck at application. And as you can tell from my mom, she's had some GREAT halloween costumes. One time she wore Laurel's movie theater uniform and had greasy hair and zits and a unibrow. She was a manager at the Sugar House dollar theater. And then the time she and her co-workers dressed as polygamists. And the lone man in their department was the husband. The contract cleaning crew of the office building didn't see the humor. They're polygamists. Then, there was the Elvis costume, and Ursula, and Cruella DeVille. She knows how to do Halloween.

Everybody Needs a Fisherman Neighbor

The spring chinook are running up the Columbia. We have an amazing neighbor who fishes lots and lots, then shares the wealth. Tuna, halibut, crab, salmon. You name it. He brought us some fresh spring chinook. You've never tasted salmon till you've had it the day it's caught. Amazing! And, it made it so that I didn't have to cook much last night. We had a pre-made costco spinach salad and some pre-made pasta (pasta de la crotch, as my kids like to say), so I hardly had to cook anything yesterday. Awesome. And, the salmon is making for a great lunch right now. Mmmm.

I had to speak in church yesterday. Oh, so very fun. I just spoke only 10 months ago. Crazy!

Abby's scabby nose is looking worse and worse. Saturday morning, she got in bed with me while I tried to sleep in. She was rooting around, like always, and scraped the scab off and left smears of blood all over my sheets. Nice. It kept bleeding and dripping. So, we put a bandaid on it. When I took the bandaid off, it took off some skin on her cheeks and below her eyes. Now she looks worse than before.

Tonight we have another band concert to go to. Guess that means I don't have to plan a family night lesson/activity. Score! When I was in Seattle with the band, I was asked to help out in the percussion section during the music clinic at the university. Of course I'll help! Brought me back to my percussion days, standing in the back, following the music and waiting for my turn to make various crashes and bangs. They needed me to hold the cymbal. No problem. It's a good thing I was there because the cymbal player wasn't counting the music right, so I helped him count. Saved the day, I did. I noticed one of the italian music words in the music. It was "ritardando." That's pretty funny.

Queen of The Heel

Abby is a shoe whore. Here she is in my parents basement. She's smart. My shoes are doubling for a sweet chair.

Easter morning. We like to tie in the Christmas holiday with the Easter. We accomplished that this year with the Christmas jammies. It's good to teach our kids the connection.

Kate has another bladder infection. She's missed a lot of school lately from that problem. Poor thing. I feel so sorry for her. She's kickin' it on the couch, watching old home movies from my teenage years. So that means I'm watching them too. I can't resist. Right now we're watching the one where Angie got married. Poor Boyd and his white tux-with-tails and white tipper-tap shoes. And we were annoying teenagers who thought we were "oh, so funny!" My three little sisters still remind of their little selves. They each played a roll in our family. I don't think it's changed much. 1993 must have been the year of the floral print gunny sack dresses. With shoulder pads and ginormous bibs. Woof! Scary that I was a junior in high school and had a ring put on my finger just 3 years later to the day. Frightening indeed!!

Ok, I just walked by in my off-white dress, white tights and white heels with my forest green dress coat with football pads in the shoulders. I have the ugliest strut when I walk. I STILL walk that way. And I hate it.

Now Abby is awake and she's grouchin' it up on the couch. There she goes! Just moved her gyrating tantrum to the floor. More room to roll. I don't know what her problem is. You'd think she would be happy because I just bought her some new clothes. Little stinker. But even her tantrums are cute.

What's that spot on her nose, you ask? She was rooting around on the carpet the other day and rubbed the skin right off her little nose. She didn't even notice. Yesterday, it turned into a nice blood blister.

Easter, Bourne Style

So, something is up. I'm not sure what it is, but I'm freaking tired all the time and can sleep forever and still feel tired. It's been getting progressively worse since Christmas. I've been going to the doc-tair and trying to figure out the problemo. So far there are weird symptoms and my iron is crazy low and my glucose gets low for no reason. Which is strange because I've been taking iron supplements for a few years now. And I want to scratch my skin off till I reach the bone. No lie. My shoulders, chest and boobies, back, scalp. But my skin is fine and there's no rash or anything. So for now, I just keep getting my blood drawn over and over and I look like a druggie with track marks in my arm because my veins are hard to get to. I won't plague you with all the other stuff that's going on because I don't want this to be a "poor me and my maladies" post. But my fatigue made for a memorable Easter dinner, I tell you.


Easter Sunday I decided to do a brunch instead of a dinner. I don't care for ham, anyway. But it's not like there's a rule you have to have ham. Yet when I think about it, I wonder if the tradition of an Easter ham is like a slap in the face from the Christians to our Jewish brothers and sisters during Passover. Pork. Not kosher. Maybe it's a statement that says, "I'm Christian, so I'm eating pork for the holiday that celebrates our break-away from Judaism." Just a thought.

Anyway, we had Neal's parents over at 11 for a nice brunch during the conference break. By the time everything was cleaned up and the second session of conference was over, I was totally beat. So I took a 4 hour nap. Never mind the fact that I had 10 hours of sleep the night before. I still slept like a baby.

Later that evening, Neal came in the room and told me to wake up for dinner. Wow! Neal had made dinner! Amazing, I tell you. Not that he's a jerk or anything, it's just that I always make dinner. That's just how it is. When I came in the kitchen, the table was all set and dinner was on the table.

It was awesome! He and the girls had scoured the freezer and found a few costco items. They had prepared some meatballs, potstickers, and a loaf of french bread. Playing on the tv was "The Bourne Ultimatum."

After the blessing on the food, Neal said, "Happy Easter dinner, everyone!"

Besides Mine, This Was the Perfect Wedding

As the title suggests, my little brother had an amazing wedding. We had an amazing time. It was a week filled with the best life has to offer - family, friends, and some amazing spiritual up-lift. Ok, enough with the word "amazing!"



And may I just say that I miss driving in Utah? You can get anywhere in the valley in the blink of an eye, because no one, not even grandma, drives slower than 80 mph. I had a blast speeding down the freeway back and forth between my mom and sister's houses. People pay cash money to get a chance to drive like a nascar driver. Me? I just had to fill my mom's van with gas. You would understand the appeal of fast driving if you understood my fast nature, and the uber "slower-than-molasses-in-January" Oregon drivers. Seriously. You hit the Oregon freeways and it's like granny taking her buick on a drive to the library.


Lucky for us, we did not drive to Utah. We hired a Southwest airplane. Abigail was a great passenger and slept most of the way there and back.

Funny, true story: Neal and I get dressed for the Wedding dinner the night before the big day. We meet in my mom's front room. We were twins. White shirts, jeans, brown belts. I kept my coat on the entire time. Didn't want anyone to think we were Reese's crazy "Team Love" relatives.



Lindsey just had this here baby girl in February. Emma. She's a cutie. It was fun to see the new nieces.

My older brother, Ryan, and his wife, Camie. She too, just had a baby in February. Little Mia. They have the prettiest babies. Ryan is only 14 months older than me. Crazy parents we have.


So, Reese goes and marries a nice, 5th grade school teacher. She's the oldest in her family, and the first to get married. She walks out of the temple, and instantly inherits 17 nieces and nephews. And those nieces and nephews think Laura is the bomb. Check out that hugging face from Kate.

Posing in front of the place where it all began. . . . The beginning of the Peton family. Abby was not a happy trooper that day.

This picture cracks me up. See Ginny and Kate pointing at the grate thingy? Ginny was saying, "This is the door to MEDUSA!!" That girl cracks me up. She and Kate were separated at birth, I think.

I love this picture. Doting Mother, giving away her last child. Wish there was a thought bubble over her head. Actually, wish it was over my Dad's head. It would say, "Take him! He's your problem now!!"

All 7 of the Hansen siblings. I love my family. Really, really love them. I can honestly say that the home we grew up in was amazing. There were no crazy secrets, no blatant hypocrisy. My parents lived what they preached, and even though we fought like crazy and I chased my sister with a knife once, we turned out pretty good. My parents really love each other. I've never seen them fight.

Abby is still like, "Oh no! Get me out of here!"

Look at Laura's face. "Dude, Abby. You're wrecking the photos with your grumpiness. Get a grip!" That's the true face of a teacher.

All of the nieces, except the brand new ones. Yes, Abigail still has grouchy written all over her face.

This reception center was perfect. They had a gelato stand, tons of candy, and a real photo booth! I was relieved when I found out that the photos were unlimited. My children and their cousins used up the nations supply of photo paper.

The cake was delicious. It's what Abby and I had for dinner, actually. Who knows what Sarah and Kate ate. I hardly saw them the whole night. Neal missed the reception because he had to fly home right after the wedding. He missed a great party. I missed part of the great party too! I had to take the melting Abby home, along with the 92 year old grandpa. After I left, the fun REALLY began. Check out Carries blog for the great pics and description of the hilarity that ensued. Really, you must read it.

Sam and Carrie. We had a blast hanging out with them. You see, Sam is really my 3rd brother. We've known each other since we were 2 years old, and we're exactly 4 months apart. Neal worked with Carrie once upon a time, and we set the two of them up. Sam married the perfect gal, because Carrie is like the 6th Hansen girl. Fits right in with the rest of us.




Sarah and I had big plans to be in Utah regardless of a wedding. We had tickets to the Young Women Conference. Highly recommended for those mothers with daughters ages 12-18. Definitely a highlight in our relationship. Everywhere we went, I had my arm linked in hers. I was so happy to be there! At first, Sarah kept trying to pull away. I said to her, "You are my daughter. Most of the time, I'm with either dad, or wrangling Abby, or competing with Kate. It's just the two of us, you're growing up way too fast, and before we know it, you're going to have your own husband on that arm. So too bad. I'm linking arms with you this whole night!"

She saw the light and insisted on holding my hand or linking arms the rest of the night. It was sweet.

Then, we enjoyed some good grub at "The Roof." Sarah was in heaven. So was her mother.