Baking as Therapy

I've noticed that as my sisters and I have worked through the holidays without my mom this year, we've had a common pursuit. That is, we've all been baking! Mom was a wonderful cook, and she could make just about anything, but she excelled at baking and making treats. We've been keeping her close by making her specialties, as well as a few of our own.

It started with cookie day back in November, which was a makeup for our annual October cookie day that got spoiled by swine flu.

Since then between me and my sisters we've made a whole bunch of holiday recipes including:

Carrot Cake
English Toffee
Gingerbread Houses
Peanut Squares
Peanut Butter Cookies
Brownies
Gingersnaps
Gingerbread snowflakes
Pound cake

Both my sister Annie and I had gingerbread disasters that ended up in shattered gingerbread, and a few tears. In my case, I was grateful that the nervous breakdown over the gingerbread house happened on Christmas Eve, because I had it out of my system before Christmas Day. My gingerbread house took over 7 hours to create and ended in a shattered pile of gingerbread, Necco wafers, ribbon candy, and royal icing on the kitchen floor at the end of that. The toffee split and ended up in a pool of congealed butter. My peanut squares were too thin, and Sally's were too thick. Along the way, we've missed being able to call mom and ask her a question so we've learned by trial and error. Do the eggs really need to be room temperature? (Answer, for carrot cake no, for royal icing, yes.) How long does it take for this toffee to reach the right temperature? (Answer, 20 million years during which you must keep stirring constantly or it splits).

Happily, the carrot cake was just right, another batch of toffee worked out perfectly, Annie glued her gingerbread house back together and secured it with Triscuits. The front half of my Victorian gingerbread house hit the dirt, but the back looked okay, so we turned it around. My brother pronounced his sisters "Best Sisters Ever" for making every cookie on his Christmas cookie list. And somehow, we made it through Christmas without mom physically here, although we felt she was somehow close.

For some, cooking is a Zen pursuit, in my family, at least this holiday season, it's been more of an extreme sport where we've experienced both the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat. The gingerbread is in pieces, but there were a few moments, stirring away at that toffee, that not having to think of anything but that task at that moment was peaceful.

Back to the Blog

I guess I've had a pretty massive writer's cramp since last Spring, because I've really not been able to get a whole blog post through my mind and onto the web. However, gotta start somewhere, so maybe I'll post some highlights for the summer.

1. Took a trip by myself up to Idaho. Okay, not sure if about 32 hours counts as a trip, but to me it was great. It was a family history trip to the small town where my grandfather was raised (Carey). Before I left, I prayed that I would find out some information about my great grandparents that I wanted to know. Boy, I must say that the Holy Ghost is good-- got me in the right spot to meet Cousin Bob, who had exactly the information I was looking for and much more too. I want to work on a novel about my family's experiences there in Carey, and did get some inspiration. Also got some neat photos in the local cemetery in Hailey. The best part was just having some moments of peace and quiet without any laundry.

2. Took a bunch of extra time off in August. It was really nice to have some extra time with the kids, as well as a few days to get caught up on things at home. I didn't get anywhere near as much done as I had planned though. Got caught up on the laundry several times this summer, which is miraculous in and of itself.

3. Watched the kids do their stuff. The summer started with some pretty awesome baseball games, and ended with football season. In between we had a couple of wonderful dance recitals. I never get tired of watching my kids' games and performances. Although, I may wear earplugs at the band performance this year as Joseph has taken up the trumpet.

4. Visit from Grandpa and Grandma. We had a great time taking photos with my Dad and his wife. Spending time with them is always a treat, and we wish we could do it more often.

5. Fireworks. I love, love, love fireworks. We only went this year on the 4th of July. I think that they need to start doing Easter fireworks, Christmas Fireworks, and fireworks on my birthday.

6. Our trip to Washington DC. What a fun place to go with my kids. Despite heat and sore feet, we managed to see two Smithsonians, the Lincoln Memorial, the WW1, WW2, and Koren War Memorials, the National Zoo, most of the walking area of the mall, Gettysburg, and some cousins to boot.

7. Allergy shots. How are allergy shots a highlight? Well, because allergy shots have made life in pollen-prevalent Utah so much more enjoyable. I am basically done with the weekly shots and now only need one every other month. Small price to pay for comfy eyes, nose, and skin.

8. Work, work, work. I've become the top dog at my office since the company laid off everyone in my role except me. So I'm the go-to gal for folks all over the company. Keeps me hopping! It's a lot of pressure, but at the same time a compliment that people trust me with their important questions.

9. Food. In my house, it's always about food. Indian food, barbeques, Indonesian, or even scrambled eggs. Mostly made by Marty. We've had some delicious meals this summer, but my favorite was homemade pizza. Marty's pizza is really more of an act of love than a meal. Or a work of art. His pizza should be framed and hanging in the Louvre, but too bad, we ate it all.

10. A lot of thinking. Thinking about life, death, kids, family, work, and how to find peace amidst all the chaos. Haven't totally got it figured out, but I think it has something to do with learning to take in what each moment has to offer-- to live in the present and be mindful of the wonderfulness of those fleeting moments.

I've been working on this mindfulness, and since then I have noted the beautiful sunrises that I witness each morning as I drive to work. I walk in the door at home and sneak in to find my daughter and her baby brother curled up in her bed talking, or hear the whole crew singing "Twinkle, Twinkle" at the tops of their lungs. I smile to see Henk wake up in the morning and put on his sunglasses before he even opens his eyes. I laugh at Cricket and Joop belting out "Here Comes the Sun" as they play Rockband. I thrill as we work on their piano pieces when manage to end the duet we are working on together at the same moment. Serving in the Temple, putting a towel around each young man and young woman as they come up from the baptismal font, I find peace in nurturing and loving these young people. Driving to girls' camp with a friend, I gain a new understanding of something that troubled me. I find a few words of scripture that answers a question I've been praying about.

Mindfulness results in awareness of the gifts of the moment that somehow seem to take up some of the spaces that loss and grief have left in my heart.

Family Photos Again

I guess I'm on a kick with the family photos.  These are fun posts to do and quick since I don't have a lot of time to put into them these days.  This one is c. 1976 (I know because my sister Sarah is a newborn) and features me and my two sisters and brother.  I am wearing my snuggie jammies which I always hated- they were so sweaty and sticky and I could not stand how they felt on my feet when that vinyl started to crack and stick to my skin.  Thankfully, it seems I was getting a little too tall for this pair and my mom cut an escape hatch for the feet. I think its funny how all the girls are fully clothed in winter looking jammies and Ted (he was Teddy back then, but don't call him that now) is barely dressed in a onesie.  Probably Mom couldn't get him to hold still long enough to get fully ready for bed.  Little bitty Anne Marie looks like she fits well in those jammies, right?  Well I remember that she continued to fit in them for the next three or four years!  She was such a tiny little girlie for a long time!

I believe this was taken at the house my parents built in Billings, Montana.  We moved from there to Salt Lake on my 7th birthday. 

More Fun Family Photos

I guess I am in a mood to review some of these photos this week.  This one is c. 1975.  The two handsome young men are my uncles Dave and John.  My grandma Peggy is the pretty lady in the middle.  To the left of her are my parents. On her right are my aunt and uncle Hugh/Doug (he changed his name from Hugh to Doug as an adult and we have never really adjusted to it) andhis beautiful wife Alice.  I'm fairly sure my Dad set these photos up because he usually did.   I loved that outfit so much.  It was probably my favorite outfit of my entire childhood. The three children are me and two of my three siblings, Anne Marie and Ted. 

Fun Family Photos

In the interest of fairness, since I posted a picture of Marty's family, I thought I better put up one of mine.  I think I was about 9 in this photo.  My mom had such a pretty smile.  My Dad was looking handsome in his fancy real-estate agent suit. You can see that even then my Dad and I had the same face. My just younger sister, Anne Marie, had a real Gunne Sax dress on. I was so jealous, but she could fit into my three older girl cousins' hand-me-downs at the exact moment the youngest, Julia, outgrew them so I was not the beneficiary of that pipeline.  Anne Marie's son Sam has the same face she does. My poor brother, Ted, had his hair curled with a curling iron for photos from about age 4 through about the time this photo was taken.  This may have been the last time he stood for it! Baby Sister, Sarah, was employing her vast skills of displaying extreme cuteness, a trick she still uses to her advantage on occasion. 

Fun family photos

Here is a lovely one of Marty's family.  Marty looks to be about the same age as Caroline here, maybe 8 or 9.  Handsome, isn't he? His dad Bill had some pretty spectacular eyebrows.  

 

Guest Blogger- Cricket- Reporting on the Sunflower

Caroline wrote and narrated this report on the life cycle of one of my favorite flowers- the sunflower.

How it hits you

Grief is an interesting thing. It hits you at the oddest times. I can't help but think this is a good thing in my case because the times when it hits me hardest is when we are having the best times. I think about how much Mom enjoyed a certain kind of moment and it makes me sad that she's not there. But it has to mean that she had a life that was so full of celebrations and love. In a way it seems so unfair that all of the best moments are invaded by this painful intruder. I still am having a tough time believing that she is really gone though. I'm not really sure why, maybe so I can be mentally prepared for when it hits, but I've been keeping a kind of mental inventory of the scenarios when the grief overwhelms:

-Music, especially if I am singing. Especially even more if it is a Primary song. My mom was a Primary Chorister and a Sunbeam teacher (these are teaching assignments working with young children in the LDS church) in her heart of hearts. She had many other callings (aka church assignments) in her life, with much more responsibility and prestige, but those two are the ones she loved the most. But it doesn't have to be Primary music. The Beatles "Yesterday" just about did me in the other day.

She knew 10,000 childrens songs I bet, and seemed to have one ready for just about any subject. Some I have never heard anywhere else like, "I love you a bushel and a peck, a bushel and a peck and a kiss on the neck."

-The bookstore. My mom loved to read even more than I do if that is possible. We had very different tastes in books in some ways, but in lots of ways they overlapped too. When I am wondering about a book I want to read, I immediately think, "I should ask Mom if she's read that one." Or if I read a good one, I want to share it with her.

-Birthdays. She made such a big deal about the grandkids birthdays. We have Henry's coming up on June 15, and it will be the first grandchild birthday without her. She came to Caroline's special birthday at the Lion House in January and I can't stand that we didn't get a picture of her with the birthday girl. She loved that party and came even though it was really hard for her because she was not feeling well. I could not have done that without her because she helped corral the girls. I'm probably going to have to start spoiling the kids myself because in the past I always counted on her to spoil them and scaled way back on presents for them myself.

-Everyday moments. Everytime I need a babysitter or someone to help with the kid driving, I immediately wonder if mom is available. She was my first choice for a person to care for my kids because she loved them and they loved being with her. Need a ride to the airport? Oh, maybe Mom can take me...oops. I don't know when that is going to stop happening and I'm not sure if I want it to or not.

From what I have heard from friends, this is a grief that you never really get over, you just learn to work with it. I have had friends tell me that their mothers have been gone for decades and they still miss them daily. I had a dream about my mom a few weeks ago that was unsettling to me. We were at a family party and she was in another room. I kept trying to get her to come into the room where I was, but she didn't want to. She was comfortable and having a good time where she was and didn't want to move. I was upset that she would not come with me, but I think the dream helped me realize that she is not far away, and that she is happy where she is. But I still want her to come be with me.

What I Have Learned About Grief (so far)

In the past three weeks since my mom died, I have had many observations about grief. I have not really made sense of it yet, but I thought I could share a few of them.

Everyone has very different reactions to tragedy and adversity, these are really just my own experiences, but I think there are some who will relate.

Having an almost two year old is a good thing. They keep you going when life gets you down.

When you are grieving, your brain doesn't work properly. It's quite debilitating. That's why it's really important to make arrangements ahead of time so that when you die, your loved ones don't suddenly have to make a lot of overwhelming decisions and make dumb mistakes about important things like editing the obituary but not accepting the tracked changes.

Sisters and brothers are really, really important. I am very grateful that I get along with mine so well. We don't agree about everything, but we do agree that we need each other and that we want the best for everyone. We have relied on each other a lot and become closer as a family which is exactly what my mom wanted us to do (she told me that a few days before she died).

Kids grieve in really different ways from adults, and in spurts. It will be a long process for my family to figure out how to have new traditions for Sunday dinners, Christmas, etc. I'm grateful we had so many with my mom.

It helps to have people around you who love you. I've had so many friends and family show their lovingkindness in so many ways. Some of the most memorable are my Dad driving up from Phoenix and spending most of a week with us. Also, my friend Anita made me a really big hankie. As she said, "There is no hankie big enough for your mother's funeral."

For me, it was helpful to speak at mom's funeral. Actually, I think my mom wrote her own funeral talk because nearly everything I used to write the talk either came from recent conversations I had with her or from her own desk. I thought I was just going to stand there and cry, but somehow I made it through with some composure. I'm pretty sure there were some loved ones there who were praying me through it.

The what-ifs are really hard to turn off. There are thousands of them, however the only real regret I have is that we did not have more time to spend together. I'm not sure there is enough time in this life. At least I had 39 years to be close to her.

Prayers are answered in really mysterious ways sometimes.

Pancakes really do make you feel better.

I really miss my mom. She's the one who got me through tough times like this. I've thought a lot about how she would have handled things herself and try to act like she would have. She was certainly not perfect, but she was a really good mom, grandma, and friend, and when it came to crisis moments like these, she could really muster a lot of wisdom, courage, and optimism.



This sounds horrible, but I would really appreciate it if everyone I know and love could die at the exact same moment I do so we can all go to heaven together.

Book Review- The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer

My review

rating: 4 of 5 stars
This is a really lovely novel written in the form of letters to and from the lovely and enchanting heroine Juliet Ashton. She is a single woman living alone in London following World War II. Juliet has had a career as an author and a columnist, but is looking for a change of pace and a new direction in her life. Through an old cast off book (she had two copies) she receives correspondence from the book's new owner, the lonely but thoughtful and handsome Dawsey Adams. Through their common interests, she comes to learn of the Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, on the Island of Guernsey in the English Channel. She wonders if the society might be the source of some new material for a book, and begins to correspond with other members. These folks connect through a love of literature, the common experience of the war, and the overwhelming goodness of common people. Juliet becomes romantically involved with the dashing American Mark Reynolds. In doing her research, she determines to visit the Island and get to know her new friends. Upon meeting Dawsey Adams, Juliet feels a great thrill of excitement, but the islanders all wonder about her connection to her editor Sidney. Whom will Juliet choose, and what happened that brings all of these people together around the memory of one of their own who was loved and now lost?

I really enjoyed this book. I found it uplifting and fun to read. I especially liked the breezy, funny way that the letters set the tone for the book, creating a sense of friendship and camaraderie between the characters. It made dealing with the more difficult aspects of the war somewhat filtered through the perspective of each of the characters and their personalities.


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Family History Sketch- Grandma's Car

Grandma Peggy drove a white VW Bug. I must have ridden in it mostly in the summer because I remember the feeling of that black vinyl on the back of exposed legs between where my shorts ended and the point where I could get my legs away from the seat.

Grandma would take us interesting places in her Bug, such as to visit a cousin we never knew or to see her fabulously stylish friends. Even a trip to the grocery store seemed exotic if we went with Grandma.

The back seat was small, just large enough for me and my sister, Anne Marie, but certainly not for my tall, skinny uncles, John the pony-tailed Harvard grad, and Dave, who probably drove the little car on dates with his girl friend.

The vinyl gave the car a distinctly pungent smell like a hot eraser after I had erased my mistakes in my first grade mathbook. The Bug was often parked in the shade of the sagey, velvety Russian olive tree on the South side of the driveway at my grandparents' house on Laird Way. Not that the shade made any difference to the heat inside the car. Being a marvel of German engineering, the car had its trunk in the front of the car and the engine in the back. Grandpa drove a Buick, which held no appeal over the style and form of the White Bug.

Boy Blue Grows Up

I was thinking today that watching Joseph grow up is sort of like watching a tadpole become a frog.  He is at a stage where he is sometimes a child, and sometimes much more mature than I expect him to be.  It reminds me of the stage where a tadpole still has its tail, but also has its frog legs and everything.  It's a tadpole and a frog at the same time.  

I see Joseph becoming so big, and he is so tender and kindhearted.  He is so bright, and is developing some really great aptitudes in reading, math, and even piano.  He is starting to catch up to my level of knowledge in some ways and I can see a time when he will pass me by in these areas. There are times when I can really see glimpses of the man he will become someday.  Then the next second he wants me to sing him to sleep or take him to Toys R Us. 

Book Review- You're Wearing That?

You're Wearing That?: Understanding Mothers and Daughters in Conversation by Deborah Tannen

My review

rating: 4 of 5 stars

I first read Deborah Tannen's book, You Just Don't Understand, back in college for an English class.  She is a linguistics professor who has studied taped and observed conversations for her career, and has mostly focused on the way that different genders perceive different aspects of conversation. For this book, she has focused on the way that women talk to each other, specifically mothers and daughters.  She discusses the difference between the message (the actual words spoken) and the metamessage (the message behind the words spoken, either as intended by the speaker or perceived by the listener). 

This is a really insightful book about relationships between mothers and daughters. It helps to understand the relationships between mothers and daughters when we know that we see each other as reflections of ourselves. I had to laugh when I read the chapters where mothers and daughters expressed their conflict over hairstyles and clothing. It seems for some mother/daughter pairs this doesn't end at the end of the daughter's teenage years. Another aspect of the relationship dynamic is that the mothering role is of such deep and intense importance to both women that it is a source of deep emotional insecurity and need for reassurance. Mothering is a task that can never been done perfectly, yet it such a critical aspect of family life and society. Women cannot help but feel inadequate to the task, yet they deeply seek affirmation that they are doing well enough.

A couple of important things I gleaned from this book is that the reason these relationships are so intense is twofold-- because they are both important and intimate. The other important message of this book is to recognize the relationship between connection and control in mother-daughter relationships. Mothers come from a place of protection and love, and daughters tend to see that as controlling. Daughters reach out for connection and a mother's solicited advice sounds like she doesn't trust her daughter or think she can handle her own problems. These dynamics lead to problems and conflicts, yet the same dynamics also lead to reconciliation and reaching out in love. What both mothers and daughters are seeking is love, intimacy, connection, and for each to be seen for who she really is. The best way to improve communication is use humor, and to recognize the real message behind the words and respond to that in a loving way.

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Guest Blogger in Honor of President's Day

I am excited to welcome a guest writer to my blog this week in honor of President's Day.  This article was written by Joseph, a fifth grader, and my son! He has been studying Presidents at school, and selected Thomas Jefferson, our nation's third President, as his subject.

Thomas Jefferson 

By Joseph

Thomas Jefferson was born on April 13, 1743, in Shadwell, Virginia.
His parents were, Jane Randolph Jefferson and Peter Jefferson.
His father died when he was 14.
His siblings were, Jane Jefferson and Mary Jefferson who were all older than him.
When Jane Jefferson’s (his mother) cousin died, he gained 4 more siblings!
Later Jane Jefferson had another child.
He went to school when he was only 5.
The place he went to college was the college of William and Mary when he was 17.
One of the subjects he studied was law.
He was the youngest of the founding fathers.
Hr wrote the Declaration of Independence.
Only 2 of his 6 children lived to maturity.
His wife Martha died when she was 34.
He was a great musician, and when his house burned down they could only save his violin.
He ran against Benjamin Franklin to be the Minister of France, and he won!
Thomas Jefferson was the quietest of all the Founding fathers.
In a picture of the signing of the Declaration of Independence, Thomas Jefferson is stepping on John Adams foot because John Adams liked to argue.
He was 57 when he became president in 1801.
He made the Louisiana Purchase which doubled the U.S.A!
His nicknames were, “Man of the People” and “Sage of Monticello.”
He was 83 when he died and was buried on July 4 1826.
His grave said, “ here was buried Thomas Jefferson the author of the Declaration of American Independence of the Virginia Statue for religious freedom and the Father of the University of Virginia.”
He served 2 terms 1801 to 1809, His vice presidents were Aaron Burr (1801) and George Clinton (1805).
He died on the 50th anniversary of The Declaration of Independence.
He died on the same day as John Adams.

Nineteen Years Ago Today

Marty proposed! When I think about it, I can still feel what I felt that day. Now we have officially been together for as long as I existed before we met. Although I can't remember what that felt like. He's too much a part of me now.

Small Talk-An observation

Coach Marty and Coach Roger

I consider myself terrible at small talk. It is not my thing, I don't really enjoy it much, although I do recognize it is important. However, my husband Marty is a pro, not just at small talk, but at using it to build real relationships.


What I have noticed is that he practices all the time. He makes friends with everyone--waiters, cashiers, neighbors, even people at drive through windows recognize his voice and know what his "order" is going to be. He befriends people by finding something in common with them and remembering things about them. Then he finds reasons to get closer to people like a common friend or a new experience together such as our kids being on the same sports team or something, or even a joke at his own expense. He is so good at quickly finding out what is really important to a person and then caring about that aspect of their lives. Because of this people tend to remember him. He runs into someone who knows him almost everywhere he goes, and he never shys away from saying hello to a friend (I do!). He calls his friends on the phone often to say, "Hi." He still has the same best friend he has had for his entire life (since they were babies).


Amazingly he can accomplish this with people of all ages and backgrounds. He reaches out and asks people for help when he needs it (for example, with a home improvement project, find out the answer to a question, or to get our piano tuned, etc.). He reconnected with his friend Roger and has now roped him into coaching football with him for the second year in a row. It really helps him with his career (as a sales rep) and has come in really handy in life when we have needed help with really important things such as medical advice and treatment.

So my strategy is to keep him close by! I talk to him ahead of time when we are going to a party and ask him to make sure to include me in conversations and not to abandon me to sit at a table by myself, especially if we are going somewhere I don't know anyone. I try to practice like he does, but I find it wears me out!

We are a good match because we are so complementary. He liked me because he did not always have to be chatty around me. He appreciated the chance to just be. I liked him because I loved the way he walks into a room and immediately fills it up with his smile and personality. He starts talking to someone, and pretty soon the whole group is gathered around listening to him. I am like a conversation condor, circling around, smiling and nodding, but secretly waiting for the conversation to move out of small talk mode and into more serious realms, and then I am ready to jump in!

Laughter is the best medicine!

This is my handsome husband, Marty. Everyone that knows my husband has probably heard a "Martinism." A Martinism is a word that Marty uses so completely out of context that it shocks a person or makes her laugh. It is fairly ironic that we ended up together because as student of the English language, I am acutely aware of grammar and usage, so I really never miss a chance to point one out. Marty is self-conscious about his Martinisms, but I find it one of his most charming qualities (after being a good kisser of course).

An example of a Martinism occured when we were both in college. His fraternity had a department-store mannequin that was dressed terribly inappropriately. My sorority friends felt sorry for the poor waif, so we kidnapped the mannequin (Lola was her name) and gave her a decent outfit, leaving a notification that we had rescued her from their neglectful care. The boys decided to get revenge and attempt to recover Lola by absconding with our president's gavel, which we used at our chapter meetings. Except the ransom note read, "We have taken your ANVIL."

I think if you want to get a response to your ransom note, you really need to properly reflect the nature of your demands.

So yesterday we were visiting a sick lady in the hospital so Marty could help to give her a priesthood blessing. My dear, sweet husband even dressed up in a suit and tie, which he normally reserves for speaking in church or for funerals (only if you were really close). Marty ever so tenderly asked this lady if she had scheduled her autopsy (he meant biopsy).

Of course when we all started laughing our heads off, he turned tomato red and almost died of embarrassment. It may be a little mean of me to post about it here on my blog, but this is a story that needs to be shared, preserved for the generations, and cherished forever.

Love you honey.

Baby Jesus Returns

I bought this Nativity Set last month after looking for one like this for many years. I fell in love with the simple beauty and clean lines and brilliant colors. Seems Henry liked it too, because the Baby Jesus was constantly disappearing from the creche. Usually, I could find the baby wrapped in swaddling clothes, but far from the manger, however a couple of weeks before Christmas, Baby Jesus disappeared. I looked high and low, even under the couch, but didn't find him. Christmas came and went, and poor Baby Jesus was still lost.

On Saturday I decided to finally get around to trying a friend's recipe for homemade bread. When I reached into the fridge to get out the yeast for the bread, who should I see, tucked away in the deep shelf of the refrigerator door, but Baby Jesus. I guess I should have thought to look for him near the yeast since he is the Bread of Life. So Baby Jesus has returned after his long winter's nap in the fridge. I'm just glad it's not that hard to find the real Jesus!

A Birthday Girl

Cricket
Originally uploaded by FishChick

She turned eight this week. It's a little hard for me to accept. We had a totally dreamy birthday party at The Lion House, the home that Brigham Young built in downtown Salt Lake City. It was really as perfect as could be. The girls were darling, the hostess was so great, and Grammy and I got to feel like we were eight again too. At eight, Caroline loves dolls, dancing, and art. She is a super reader, and has lots of friends. Her idea of a great day is going out to lunch and having a pedicure and going shopping. A little precocious, yes, but still wonderfully naive, imaginative, and sweet too.

Mormon Funerals--A Follow Up to Funeral Potatoes

I probably should have clarified why Funeral Potatoes are called Funeral Potatoes. My friend Kyles wanted to know, and that prompted more musings about Mormon funerals in general.

Kyles they are called funeral potatoes because they are usually served at the family dinner that occurs after Mormon funerals. This is a very tender event where the women of the local congregation feed the family members who have gathered for the funeral and they have a chance to comfort each other and catch up. Funerals are most often held at the church, and the family returns to the church after the burial for a little impromptu family reunion.

Mormon funerals, especially when the person has lived a long and satisfying life, have such a sweet and loving character. They are usually a chance to share family stories and catch up with long-lost relatives--a family historian's dream. I like to take along a notebook and/or a tape recorder.

I think that the Mormon funeral is somewhat unique, although I've only been to a few funerals that were not decidedly Mormon in nature (even when the person who died was not really very active in the Church, if they were ever a member or have relatives who are, the funeral tends to take on that flavor, at least here in Salt Lake). Course that could also be that my own worldview permeating my perspective. The LDS view on death is that it's a time for sadness for those who are left behind missing their loved one, but it is also a time to rejoice for the person who has been released from pain, suffering, and the sorrows of mortality. We have such a strong conviction that we will see each other again, whether it is a family member or a friend. My experience has been that the Lord's comfort and peace is the primary feeling I come away with from a family funeral, even when I feel a great sense of loss as well.

Funeral Potatoes-- My Mormon Birthright

Adventures in Cooking- A Laura style recipe

As a female member of the church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I have an innate ability to enjoy and create one of the tastiest and deadliest concoctions known to mankind, that is, funeral potatoes. I made a huge double batch yesterday, and boy were they yummy. It combines the most processed of foods in the kind of yummy campy mormony mess that I find so culturally interesting. Call it a heritage dish if you will. Crunchy, cheesy, tangy, mmmm... I didn't really use a recipe, but here's what I did--

I took two big bags of frozen hash brown potatoes and threw them into a mixing bowl. Then I discovered that my mixing bowl was not big enough to hold all the potatoes AND mix anything in with them. I looked around my kitchen until I found another not-big enough mixing bowl, and split them in half. I have a big-enough mixing bowl, but it is so big it lives in the attic. That means that I would have had to climb up in the attic to get it out, and then wash it, and I didn't have any clean towels with which to dry it (I didn't say I was that good of a Mormon woman), so I winged it with the two smaller bowls.

Then I dumped a huge can of Campbell's cream of chicken soup, a big tub of sour cream, and a whole bunch of really sharp cheddar cheese (broke Marty's food processor in the process of grating it), and about 1 stick of melted butter into the first bowl and started mixing it up, then I had to slowly transfer from one bowl to the other until everything was mixed together. This made a huge mess as I dropped half the ingredients on the counter. Then I realized that I left out the onion, so I chopped one up and sauteed it in olive oil until it was just starting to look clear. I had to re-start the process of transferring everything around until I could get the onion mixed in. While I was doing this, I remember to put salt and pepper in too.

Once I had everything good and mixed, I had to dig out my big casserole dishes, which are at the bottom of the hall cupboard underneath a whole bunch of other stuff. I had to call Marty over to help me to prevent being crushed under an avalanche of various dishes, at which point he sighed, because he wanted to eat his lunch. So I crabbed at him about having a small kitchen with nowhere to store anything as retaliation for that sigh.

We managed to extricate the biggest casserole dish out of the cupboard, and I filled it up with the funeral potatoes concoction. After a certain point, I realized that it was not going to fit in just one dish, and I had to go pull out the second biggest casserole dish from the bottom of the aforementioned bunch of stuff. This time I didn't ask for help because I didn't want to hear the sigh again. After a little while I was able to balance out the potatoes to fit into the two casseroles and it was time to make the crunchy topping.

I poured about two cups of cornflakes into a big Ziploc bag, at which point I proceeded to squish them by hand. I could have done this in my food processor even though I broke it because the blade attachment still works, but it is very satisfying to squish them yourself, especially when you are still grouchy from your husband's hunger-induced sigh and subsequent snippiness. I didn't quite have enough for my two giant casserole dishes, so I had to add more (of course in the process I spilled cornflakes everywhere because the inside bag had refused to open along the seam, so the cornflakes came out of the box all willy-nilly).

Once I had the cornflakes sufficiently squished, I put them in one of the two big mixing bowls (not yet washed) and dumped melted butter over the top of them, stirring them around until they were all buttery. I spread them over the top of the casseroles and then wrapped them up and popped them in the fridge. Finally I could eat my sandwich (which Marty had made for me while I was cooking despite my retaliation for the sigh). After lunch I washed the dishes (left them out on the counter to dry) and swept the floor.

Later when it was time for dinner, we took them to the family party and popped them in the oven at 375 degrees until they were all bubbly and brown around the edges (about 40 minutes). They were definitely a big hit of the evening. Good thing I made a lot because I saw people taking entire heaping platefuls of just potatoes (of course my own kids didn't touch them), and there were enough left for me to take some home for lunch today.

Book Review- The Pillars of the Earth by Ken Follett

rating: 5 of 5 stars

The Pillars of the Earth is an inspiring and thrilling book. I loved it. Be warned however, that the book depicts both sex and violence (often together) very graphically. This however, is a typical worldview and experience of the people of the Middle Ages, (specifically, twelfth century Britain) the time in which this book is set. At this time, the human race lived with constant violence as a part of everyday life. Sensitive readers should beware of this and may choose to avoid the book for these reasons.

The book follows a number of different individuals over the course of about three decades. There is Philip, a monk who comes from a quiet forest monastary; Tom Builder and his family, who are seeking work and sustenance; Ellen, a beautiful young woman who lives in the forest with her son Jack; the powerful Hamleigh family, who wreak ruthless violence upon all; and a young lady named Aliena and her brother who are the children of the Earl. Each individual and family rises and falls (many times over) in security, power, and capabilities, and each experience the consequences of choices made by themselves and by others. Their stories are set against the backdrop of the building of the Kingsbridge Cathedral, a long and bloody civil war, and a challenge between the monarchy and the catholic church.

I liked the book on many levels. The plot was wonderful, character development was interesting and compelling, and the historical setting fascinating. Follett is a great story teller, having developed his writing chops as a thriller-action novelist. His prose is nothing special--simple and straightforward, and accessible, yet at the same time he creates imagery of both the external and internal environments of the noval that is both vivid and forceful. I loved the way the book followed the characters over such a long period of time, allowing the reader to experience their personality development as they matured and experienced the joys and cruelties of their lives.

The central metaphor of the book, the cathedral, undergoes a similar development as the characters, experiencing similar disasters, triumphs. It becomes a source of strength and hope for the community. The cathedral develops into something completely different than anyone had initially conceived. When the cathedral is damaged or shows signs of weakness, these trials inspire the builders to make the cathedral more fortified, more mighty, and more beautiful. Through the process of time, and by long and arduous effort, the cathedral evolves into something triumphant and holy.

Pillars of the Earth will definitely make my read-again list.