Their moms left

me in charge while they did some last minute shopping. They were worried about me and whether I would survive. So I showed them. I whipped up a batch of sugar cookies.

I mixed. I baked. They frosted. They decorated. They ate. I cleaned. Emily helped. Emily photographed.

Then the moms reappear. And they wondered. Had you already made the dough? Did you make it from scratch? Where's the baby? Is this a Christmas miracle or where did you learn to entertain children, bake, and clean while chewing gum?
Um, I had some practice.

What happened to 2010?

I was writing a check this morning and remembered it was 2011. I looked to see if I had written the correct date on the two checks I had written the day before. And they would have been absolutely right if it was still last year. And no one corrected me so I may not be the only one living in the past. I mean look at Jon. He's surprised it's 2011.

I did attend the New Year's Eve party in the dining room so I am not sure why I wasn't aware of what we were celebrating.

So welcome to a new year. Some things never change.

It looked good

enough to eat. So she did. The mailbox, the satellite dish, the motorcycle, Santa and the chimney, they're gone.

Emily made this at Young Women. One of the leaders has an awesome pan. I need one.

Most wonderful time of the year . . .

when Emily is once again dancing in The Nutcracker. This year she is "Spanish."

Who would not want to wear that tutu?

Last week, Emily's dance teachers told me they were trying to teach her to be sultry. I thanked them because you know that is important for a thirteen year old. So much more practical than that silly algebra 2 she has during 3rd hour.

There's no place like home

after a week in the Emerald City. The 8th grade choir has been rehearsing for The Wizard of Oz since school began.

The week of the actual show took it up a notch with daily practice until 5 each day. Then a performance for the 7th grade during school hours and a second performance in the evening. The very next night Emily and her fellow Ozian went to see Wicked.

They have the sad face because they sat in the wrong place. (our regular seats are in the center, Emily always wants to be off center.)

Here is Emily's serious face. I am trying to think if I have ever seen it before.

Emily was a pointe dancer in the Lullaby League. She is far left in the picture.

The costume was interesting but she was fortunate to have a part among a group of 200. Apparently not everyone can sing as they dance on their toes.

Then she was an Ozian, fourth from left in the picture. The costumes were provided. She was lucky in green.

Not everyone was so fortunate.

Thankfully

we at least had the two girls together for Thanksgiving. And look how excited they are about dining with their parents. Texas was toasty warm for this cowboy.

Baby Max has gotten chubby for the holidays. Look at those arms. Talking about Max here.

Kirsten and Emily feeling festive, put buns on top of their heads, but kept to the no photos policy.


The blanket came off and still no peeking at the buns.

Advantage with the I-phone is photography over the shoulder made easy.

Max remains the master of sleeping.

Does not matter whose lap he lies upon.


Colton finally noticed he had a baby brother or maybe it was the big truck on his p.j.s. that distracted him.


We were back on the road to Dallas Friday. The hotel had a view of Cowboy Stadium but no cowboys.

The old guy from Six Flags seems to have developed a thang for Emily.

Do other states have amusement park rides involving cattle?

And in the dark Emily found two friends. She had the sweatshirt, they had the tights.

Usually it is Emily with the tights.

My favorite veteran

would have to be my dad. Definitely.

I grew up during the Vietnam War. I remember the draft, the protests, the nightly newscasts of casualties and devastation and prisoners of war and missing in action. It was just a part of life. Yet I know of no one my age that served in Vietnam because thankfully it was over that spring of 1975.
I was 16.

My Dad enlisted in the army when he came home from his mission. He had already entered the Salt Lake mission home when he was drafted. He was sent home while the Church and the government played tug of war with his life. The Church won with the understanding that he was only delaying his entrance into the Service. My mom and dad married while he was in the army. Two months later he was sent to Berlin, Germany for 13 months without my mother. The Korean conflict had recently ended. Dad was a clerk at the Spandau prison where the Nazi war criminals were held. Boot camp and all those rifle and survival training exercises in Yakima prepared my dad to sit facing a typewriter. He may have been through East Germany but I think the enemy was loneliness and boredom. I love that my dad served in the military. Thanks dad and servicemen everywhere who protect our freedoms and this great country.