Creative diversion...frum me to you...

I've been missing my Senecca.

So after wallowing in the testosterone-infused man-cave for the last two months, 

I decided it was time for a little creative diversion to take my mind off her absence.

And since my favorite thing in the whole world is to give gifts, 

and her favorite thing is to get gifts...

my little "care package" project worked out for both of us.

I thought it should include something distinctly "mom" about it. 

And in our home, that means art, food, or both.

  

So I started by making a word garland for her, using items that I had laying around my studio, er, dresser, like scraps of fabric, ribbon, buttons, paper and string.

I found this great quote a while ago and decided it would be perfect.

 "Art washes from the soul, the dust of everyday life."

Sweet sentiment, no?

Her care package included the quote garland, a felt brush holder for her paintbrushes, and a set of notecards so that she would have no excuse to not write to me...

...and my favorite part:

shells "frum" Stocky to his big sister...

 (We love our phonetic spellers around here.)

 ... then I remembered that I wanted to send her a cd of family photos
 that we had taken this summer, so I added that too.

Once it was all together, in it went. 

 Box, tissue, then off to the post office.

Oh yes, and some jam-filled cookies that I burned especially for her.

Sorry, no photo. They were tasty, not pretty.

Sigh...

That was fun.

Who's next?

  

Why I don't scrapbook...

Senecca's going away-to-college party took place back in September.

It's now November.

27th.

Three months behind...

 Marjorie Pay Hinckley once said, "I made a resolution to read my scriptures every day...I'm on day four and I'm only 3 days behind!"

We would have been good friends, Marjorie and I.

Meg, who is also attending BYUH was in attendance. As was Lisa, our Cafe des Amis lunch partner.

The girls' party favors.

Almost good enough to eat.

Meet Allison.

Senecca's roomy from last summer.

They have the funniest rat story EVER that I will share with you all someday.

For now, I'll share these beautiful flowers...and that handsome man in the background...with you instead.

And someday when I grow up and become responsible...

 I'm gonna be a scrapbooker.

At the Kula pumpkin patch...the only place on Maui that feels like fall!

I was sooooo wrong...

I always thought I could take a great family photo.

All I needed was

 a better camera,

some decent lighting,

a somewhat cool background,

and the ever elusive

cooperative warm bodies...

Then, surely then, I would be able to take a great photo of la familia.

I was

  so, so 

wrong. 

 Believe me, I tried.

It wasn't pretty.

Enter the magnificent Micha Wixom.

Photographer extraordinaire and owner of Shuttergirl Photography .

Talk about saving me from myself.

Micha,

 you rock.

Coming up for air...

Hello?

Hello?

Is anybody still out there?

Hello...?

Just thought I'd let you know where I've been for the last month or so.

A vortex.

Yes, that's right.

A vortex.

I was sucked into the
early morning seminary
vortex, and I'm just now coming up for air.

It has been a crazy, life changing, beautiful, challenging, exhausting, glorious month.

And every day I am changed.

I have never known such intense tutoring by the Spirit, save the time that I had Sawyer here on earth with me. 

I just have one question...

Why is it that the Lord uses the hardest things in our lives to teach us?

Granted, studying for hours and getting up insanely early to teach a roomful of teenagers is not high on the list of major challenges in life, but c'mon, I mean

  4 a.m.?

Seriously?

How is that holy?

And yet, when I walk in that room with those kids,

 and the Spirit begins to open eyes and warm hearts
 (mostly mine)

something glorious happens.

And then I know.

This is God's work.

And I am lucky to be there.

Move over, Dominos...

I've never been accused of being a great cook.

I come from a looooong line of food burners.

It is a long held tradition at my family's Thanksgiving dinners that we (the women in the kitchen) "flambe'" the marshmallow topped sweet potatoes not once, not twice, but three times before we get it right.

The secret of our success is to never, under any circumstances, use a timer.

We like to think that the smoke pouring out of the oven and the fire alarm ringing in the background brings an element of danger and excitement to a meal that is otherwise satisfying, yet somehow...dull.

Don't you think so too?

Speaking of food and family, I always get the urge to cook...um, burn stuff, when I get home to Idaho.

One night while the urge was strong, I wandered to the freezer which holds the remains of our 4-H pig, Winston (rest in peace, Winston) and guess what I found?

Sausage!

Which made me think of pizza.

Which reminded me that we had flatbread. And pesto. And olives. And peppers. And onions. And feta. And mushrooms. And artichokes. And provolone.

(heavenly choir singing here)

THE  MAKINGS OF A PERFECT PIZZA.

(Don't you just love how olives shine?)

Simple ingredients that just hang out in the refrigerator and pantry, waiting to be whipped into a
 culinary masterpiece.
 Okay, you can stop laughing now, Eric.

I must say...

It was delicious...

And easy...

And I only burned 2 of them before it came out perfect.

Part Three: How to become a Farm Chicks groupie

the rules:

First, you must shop like a maniac and not let one white or cream chippy painted object go by without a good look-see.

Second, you must spread it all out on the Spokane fairgrounds lawn for a quick show-and-tell before loading it into the wagon to head for home.

(Go ahead, don't be shy, dump the contents of your wheeled market baskets and brown paper bags into big 'ol heaps, right there on the ground.)

Finally, you must whip out your trusty camera and proceed to document...er, incriminate yourself with... the loot.

We followed the rules.

(Can you believe it?)

Do you wanna take a peak?

Don't you just love vignettes?

Sometimes I wish life was a vignette.

We tried to convince these little darlings to crawl into our suitcases (vintage, of course...okay, not really...does 1985 count?) and come back to Idaho with us.

For some strange reason their mothers vetoed that idea.

Go figure.

We met these super sweet ladies on the lawn during show-and-tell.

They too, declined our invitation to tag along with us to Idaho.

Something about a cute little store to run...

Loaded and ready for the trek home.

Giddy-up.