A little avocado.

So the cupboard turned out a little more avocado than I expected.

It hearkens back to the 70s roots of this house... maybe an orange shag rug should be the next addition (especially in the bathroom!).

I still like it... I think.

That's the benefit of having a 30 year old house, you can paint the original woodwork and not really worry about ruining it. I mean, I don't think fake dark brown particle board woodwork will ever be in high demand again. In case you're curious, it was painted white when we moved in, or else I would have painted it long ago.

Jared hasn't said anything yet-- either he likes it, or knows better than to criticize.

Don't worry, he'll think of something soon enough.

Shhh....

Don't tell Jared.

I'm painting the cupboard in the kids bathroom bright green.

He's gonna freak.

Perception

We went swimming today since John was out of school. As I was sitting there observing the other families I realized something about myself. Here it is:

When I pack a lunch for my kids for the park or the pool I don't necessarily pack it for them, I pack it for other moms to look at and think I am a great mother.

At least sometimes I do. There have been times (like today) when I forget that other people will notice what my kids are eating and I pack candy and Cheetos.

I looked around and felt a pang of regret as I noticed the trim, fit mother of three pull out oranges and carrot sticks for her children. But then I thought, perhaps she does the same thing and only packs the healthy stuff when she knows people might notice.

I like to think all those moms have cupboards full of cookies, cupcakes, chips, and soda.

Or maybe it's just me.

The Happiest Place on Earth... unless...

Can you sense the excitement?

Unless you try to go the same day you get up at 4 am to catch a two hour flight,

struggle through the airport,

ride the shuttle,

wait at least an hour for the rental car,

cram into the rental,

stop for an emergency hot dog,

argue about which freeway combination would be the best route at this time of day,

drive-thru one more time for the people who did not need the emergency hot dog,

finally arrive,

pay $12 to park,

spend another 30 minutes in a traffic jam in the parking structure,

ride the tram to the park,

get in the slowest moving ticket line,

and then another to rent the stroller.

Then, and only then, did the fun begin.

Some pictures of the quickest trip to Disney Land on record...

Kitty was feeling a little shy to go see Minnie Mouse

It helped to have daddy there too.

At first I didn't know who she was, but Kitty quickly said, "It's the fairy godmother!"

John and Sandy on the bumper cars at Bug's World, California Adventure

Jared loves his chainsaw.
He loves to trim and cut down entire trees.
He does not love to clean up afterwards.

After one particularly bad autumn snow storm we had to cut down four trees in our backyard. It took until the following spring to get rid of all the branches. I was beside myself. I even threatened to call in reinforcements from church. That didn't motivate him to get the branches out of the yard, it just made him mad.
What finally got us moving at break-neck speed to get rid of all the branches, trunks, etc? The city sent around a truck to collect everything on one day only (see, we weren't the only one's who lost trees in the storm).

If it hadn't been for the city, Bogda would surely be whittling away at our outrageous wood stockpile. Come to think of it-- she was there that day stealing kindling for her fire.

The point is that Jared cut down the Russian Olive in our front yard on one of his chainsaw escapades. I hated that tree, it was scraggly and trashy. We got the wood cleared rather quickly for some reason I can't remember, but the stump stayed exposed for all the world to see. I hated that stump.

Bogda hated that stump.

So one day we got to work with our pick-axes digging around it. We worked for months hacking away at the roots of that stump. We couldn't get even a slight budge from that firmly rooted beast.

Some days I would come home to find her in my yard working on the stump. On a particular day when we had both worked on it (Bogda more than me), I took a break and ran to get some milk or something from the store.

Upon my return my car was met by all the neighborhood kids cheering and shouting. I rolled down the window and they told me she had done it! Bogda got it out!

I pulled in to see that not only had she worked the stump loose, but she had rolled it up the hill.

This is my quintessential Bogda story. I joke with the neighbors about how she lifted my stump out with one hand and threw it up the hill.

And so it goes...

These are Bogda's kids (flanked by mine) on the first day of school.

WARNING: If you are sick of my stories about my neighbor stop reading now.

I've been feeling a little guilty about my recent posts regarding Bogda and my bad attitude. I have decided that I have so many little "Bogda Stories" crammed into my brain that I need to let a few out. Mostly just because she is the biggest, best character I have ever met.

I met Bogda within days of moving in. I was unloading something from the car with my mom and she came rushing over to introduce herself. Her hair was unkempt and pulled back in a haphazard pony, she was wearing a tight, short-waisted sweater and some old jeans with the top button open. I could smell the stale cigarette smoke even before her voice betrayed her habit. I could hardly understand what she was saying, her accent was so thick.

As time went on I saw her working in her driveway almost daily. Her kids would play all day while she worked with a hatchet and a cigarette.

I didn't know what she was doing at the time. I now know that she was cleaning, cutting and stacking wood to burn. Bogda's house is one of a few on our block with only electric heat. She is the only one on the block chopping wood on a regular basis. She has a wood stove that will heat the entire house.

In fact, people bring her their yard scraps, old pallets, or anything else they think she might burn. She never turns anything away.

Jared trimmed our gigantic Blue Spruce shortly after we moved in and Bogda asked if she could take the branches. I thought she was going to take them to the dump, but in less than an hour she quietly hauled it all away. I didn't even see her come.

Someday I'll get a picture of her, I just have to figure it out. I also need to get a picture of her hands, they are the biggest, hardest hands you will ever see.

P.S. I tried numerous times to reformat this post with no luck. Sometimes I have too many hard returns and then there are times like this when everything jams together. So frustrating!

One more...

Based on some of the comments, I decided to write one last story about Bogda (for at least 2 days).

Contrary to popular belief, I did, in fact, give her a Book of Mormon. I told the missionaries if they were looking for something to do they could find me a Polish language one to give to her. A few weeks later they handed it to me with smiles of anticipation beaming across their faces.

I delivered it before Christmas. She was on the phone. I handed it to her, we both laughed, and I went home. I know, not the most spiritual exchange, but you take what you get.

A few days later I went over to visit and I saw that the book was open on the table. Surprised, I asked if she was reading it.

"Of course, you don't get book and not read."
"What do you think?"

She liked it better than the Bible; it was easier to read and understand.

"But why they ruin it with chopping guy's head off?"

She couldn't get past the killing of Laban. I tried to explain why it was for the greater good, but she was disgusted that God (who wrote the Ten Commandments) would order someone to murder. Apparently, this is a similar issue she has with the Bible.

End of discussion.