Mister

The Weekend That Broke The Camel’s Back

June 19, 2013 · 0 comments

in Bad Things, Baking, Birthdays (everyone else's), Church, Craziness (hildie's), Feeling Sorry for Myself, I'm Not So Great, Mister, Relief Society Pres., Why Hildie's tired

You guys! Last weekend was one of those times when everything stacks up and crushes me near to death. It’s all I could do to keep breathing til last night.

First of all, it was my anniversary. Nice, pretty mellow. But still it’s a whole evening when I had lots of other things to do. What other things, you might ask? Well, at church the men are given a little gift on father’s day. A lot of times the teenage girls are in charge of it (actually, the leaders are in charge. The girls just hand them out). But this year the women were in charge. I was thinking of something store-bought but I realized how much I hate to receive store-bought stuff so I decided to make some monster cookies. In case you have lived a sheltered, pitiful life and don’t know what they are: kind of a half-peanut butter, half-oatmeal cookie with M&Ms and chocolate chips. Only I don’t have a good recipe. So I had to search the interwebs to find something worthy. Which required me making a whole ton of Monster Cookies to try out. The grand winner was this recipe by Sally’s Baking Addiction. It’s a keeper because it’s not too heavy on the oatmeal; too much oatmeal makes a cookie taste blah. So my anniversary cut into my baking time.

On my way home from working out on Friday I stopped to buy all the M&Ms and chocolate chips. Nothing like being absolutely soaked with sweat holding 15 bags of candy. I’m sure people suspected bulimia. And the stores here don’t provide grocery bags (of course I had forgotten mine in the car, as always) so I was dropping bags of M&Ms left and right. Those suckers are slippery! But I made it home with all my chocolate and began to bake.

I spent some of Friday and most of Saturday making 90 giant Monster Cookies. I have a gigantic mixer that does three or four batches at a time, so it really wasn’t as much trouble as it sounds. My counselors did all the wrapping and labelling and i think the cookies were a big hit.

But you know that wasn’t all I had to do, right? Mister dragged me to a movie on Friday night. I can’t remember what it was called but it was Danish and I liked it very much. It put me behind schedule. As did the wedding we had to go to in San Antonio on Saturday morning. Two hours each way for a 40-minute ceremony. Oy. But we discovered a new (and delicious!) BBQ place halfway between San Antonio and Austin and that made everything all better (the brisket melted in my mouth. Divine!)

Also this weekend: Arabella had to give a talk in church. Mormons don’t have a clergyman that speaks in church every week. Instead, members of the congregation are asked to speak about a given topic. Everybody gets a turn, aren’t we so lucky? Once kids turn twelve they’re fair game for speaking, too. This was Arabella’s first talk and it was about fathers so that meant that I had to help her with it instead of pawning it off on Mister. Much encouragement and proofreading ensued.

This wasn’t our only “first” at church either. India got asked to play the prelude music in church for the first time (piano not organ). Meaning I had to nag her to practice several times (“Mom, nobody even listens to the prelude music!”). She did a really good job and I’m guessing she’ll get asked again. Our house was filled with hymns all weekend, which seems nice in theory but really just put me on edge.

Then there were the teenagers nagging me to sign up for summer church camps right this second, requiring me to decide exactly what our itinerary is going to be as camp is four states away and will require travel of 10-12 days total. There is nothing that I despise as much as planning things in advance and I’ve been avoiding the details of our big summer trip. But there I was trying to get the kids all signed up for camps, knowing that there were only four slots left at the session they wanted to go to (“what do you mean you can’t remember your camp password from last year? Well, then they can email it to you. You forgot your email password too???” ) It took over an hour but we finally got it squared away.

There were Father’s Day presents to wrap, cards to nag the kids to make, and the Father’s Day meals to prepare. And a whole bunch of church busywork that takes a million years and is no fun at all but had to be done for Sunday.

It’s really a wonder that I only burned one tray of cookies. As much multi-tasking as I was doing, there should have been a few dozen burned.

And then there was Jasper. Poor, poor Jasper. It was his birthday on Sunday too. But I felt sorry for him having to share his day with Mister, and that it was on a Sunday (no eating out or having much fun being the Sabbath Day and all), so we lied and told him that we hadn’t looked at the calendar properly and that his birthday was actually Monday. Thank goodness he bought it! Having his birthday yesterday instead of Sunday was so much better. We went swimming with friends and he didn’t have to share his special day with his dad. It ended up being a great idea. I’ll have to remember to lie to my kids a lot more often.

OK, this is officially the most boring blog post I’ve ever written. But I just wanted you to know what I’ve been up to. I’ve had good reasons to slack on blogging and I’ve got the dark circles under my eyes to to prove it.

 

How I Met Mister

June 13, 2013 · 5 comments

in Good Things, Mister, Serious

Today is my twenty-first wedding anniversary. I am 42 years old which means I have been married as long as I’ve been single. That is a weird thought. In honor of such a special occasion I thought it would be nice to tell you  how Mister and I met. He doesn’t really like when I talk about him, but it’s a cute story.

We met when I was nineteen. Good heavens, I was young. But like all nineteen-year-olds, I thought I was as mature and experienced as the hills. I was going to BYU, majoring in Art History and having a grand old time.  I spent my spare time waiting tables at a Chinese restaurant owned by an incredibly superstitious man from Shanghai named Randy. I have always been a fan of things Chinese so the restaurant seemed a good fit for me even though I only made $2/hr (plus tips! Which in a college town are pitiful.)  Randy made the best Sesame Beef I have had to this day.

One Friday night, the girl who normally hostessed called in sick. I covered her shift and did my usual friendly banter and smiling at the customers as they paid their checks. One table of four guys came in, had dinner and then left without taking their leftovers. Here’s another thing about waiting tables in a cheap-o college town: people always come back for their leftovers, being hungry students and all that. So I was waiting by the door, Chinese take-out boxes in hand when one of the boys from the table came running back in. I smiled and handed him his food. That was Mister. Sadly, I have no recollection of this at all.  I must have had other things on my mind but he can still describe the outfit I was wearing (Mister likes to say, “you had a big smile and big boobs. I was hooked.”)

Mister, normally very shy with the ladies, was tranfixed by my beauty (or something) and after much egging on by his roommates, decided to call the restaurant and ask me out. Only I had gone home by that time. Randy informed Mister that while he couldn’t give him my phone number, he could tell him my name and that I was a BYU student. Now at that point I was going by Jennie. And my maiden name was Davis. You can imagine what a common name that was. Mister decided to call every Jennie/Jennifer Davis at BYU (there were around 10) to find me. The funny thing is that it’s so unlike Mister’s personality to do anything like that. But apparently I looked really good when he saw me at the restaurant.

Wouldn’t you know that I was the one Jennie Davis with an unlisted phone number. So Mister decided to expand his calling area to Provo in general and got another half dozen phone numbers to try. None of them were me, either. There were a lot of Jennies who thought what he was doing was so sweet and volunteered to go out with Mister should I never be found.

Mister called Randy at the restaurant late that evening and told him that he couldn’t find me. Randy informed him that I’d be working the next night and that he should come in because [say this is very broken English] “she no have boyfriend. You have good chance!”

When I showed up for my shift the next day Randy was so excited he could barely talk. “You boyfriend come in tonight!” he said over and over. It took a lot of explaining before I got the story that some guy had been trying to find me and was planning to return that evening to ask me out. I was slightly weirded out but flattered. The other waitresses were on high alert for this mystery man and finally he showed up just before the end of my shift. Shelly, a fellow waitress, came running up to me announcing that he was here! And he wanted to know if I’d like to go to a play next week! I relayed a reply (Yes! any guy who didn’t suggest dinner and a movie at the dollar cinema was definitely on the right track!)

I didn’t actually meet Mister until he he was on his way out. We both felt bashful and awkward. It was even more awkward when he picked me up. It was almost like a blind date. I had been in no mood to go on a date with a complete stranger so I had tried to pay my roommate Tiffany $10 to go instead. Tiffany looks a little like a blonde version of me so I figured it wouldn’t be that big of a deal. She refused, of course. Mister and I double dated with another waitress from work and one of Mister’s friends so it didn’t feel as much like a set-up for a date rape scenario.

The play was good, although neither of us can remember what play it was anymore. We spent to hours talking afterwards at Frontier Pies (oh man, do you remember the scones and cornbread and honey butter??? That’s pretty much my happiest college memory right there.) I was writing a paper about Pre-Raphaelite painters at the time and not only did Mister know what I was talking about, he told me which Pre-Rapahelite paintings he’d seen in London when he was there the year before. Any man who can speak intelligently about art gets an A+ in my book. He was also a returned missionary (Mormon girls are groomed to assume that any guy who didn’t go on a mission when he had the opportunity is a loser. There is more truth to that than you might think.)

When Mister dropped me off afterwards (a polite goodnight. No kissing on the first date!) I was incredibly surprised that I had had such a nice time. A really nice time.

What I came to find out over the next eighteen months that we were dating/engaged was that he is the kindest and most thoughtful person I’ve ever met. He has a silly and outlandish sense of humor that still makes me laugh every single day. He loves God and tries so hard to do what’s right. He is more patient with me than I deserve, even when I called off the wedding half a dozen times. He’s very passionate and opinionated (sometimes to the point of being infuriating) and has taught me how to have an open, unselfish heart (well, he’s trying, at least). I’m grateful every most every day that Mister had the tenacity to keep looking until he found me. He has made me a better person in a hundred different ways.

 

That’s What I Get For Bottle Feeding!

May 12, 2013 · 6 comments

in Funny, Holidays, Kids, Mister

I worked until my second child was a few months old but I made sure that I only worked hours that Mister was home so we didn’t need to put the kids in daycare. One day when India was a baby I forgot to restock the formula before I went to work but I figured it wasn’t a big deal; Mister was perfectly capable of going to the store. Capable, yes; did he want to? That was another story. I got home from work that night to find baby India drinking a bottle of chocolate Slim-Fast. Pretty much the same thing as formula, right? But it could have been worse. Happy Mother’s Day!

 

 

 

 

Baptism Girl

April 16, 2013 · 6 comments

in Birthdays (everyone else's), Church, Family, Good Things, Kids, Mister, Serious, Why Hildie's tired

Adelaide Amelia Clementine turned eight last week.

Turning eight is not just any birthday if you’re Mormon. That’s when we get baptized. Mormons believe that babies and children automatically go to Heaven if they die, so baptism isn’t a requirement until kids are old enough to really understand the difference between right and wrong. Which we have interpreted to be eight years old. So although Ada’s birthday was a big deal, it was the baptism that took center stage. All the grandparents flew into town, which was nice. I don’t think we’ve ever had that happen before here in Texas.

Ada was the only person in the ward turning eight this month so we asked if the baptism could be held when it worked out schedule-wise for all the relatives. Which turned out to be on Ada’s actual birthday. It seemed a charming idea for the baptism to be held on her birthday but let me tell you, NOT the best idea.

Baptism traditions differ from place to place but here we have the baptism which is followed by cookies and punch. Since the baptism isn’t part of church, not as many people come. We had about 60 people which is a pretty good turnout. Being a snobby baker I made all the cookies myself. All 250 of them. Interspersed with cookie making I had to make a birthday cake and a birthday breakfast. Mister made the birthday lunch, so that was one less thing for me to worry about. Then we had to do presents.

Basically by Sunday evening I was bone-tired.

I had been planning all along on making Ada’s baptism dress. After doing hours and hours of research, however, I just couldn’t find a dress/pattern/fabric that I liked better than the dupioni silk dresses I’d made for India and Arabella. While most Mormon girls wear a white dress for their baptisms, that’s nothing more than a tradition. Our family likes to be just a smidge different. Heaven knows it would have been a jillion times easier to find a white dress with Communion season upon us. Pretty white dresses are a dime a dozen. But that’s not how we roll, so I talked Ada into wearing India’s old dress. (It wasn’t hard. I just said, “Doesn’t this blue dress match your eyes perfectly?” And Ada was all over it. She’s very proud of her blue eyes.) The hem had to be let out a bit since India had been so shrimpy, but it worked out perfectly in the end.

Here’s the silly thing about the dress: the girl doesn’t actually get baptized in it. Since we do what Jesus did, that means actual immersion under water. Dresses usually float to the top of the water so years ago the church switched to providing white jumpsuits for the baptizees. The dress (or suit if it’s a boy) is worn to the baptism and changed into immediately after the baptism itself for the rest of the event. It’s not like they’re expected to walk around in some soaking wet thing all day.

The service was just lovely. Mister performed the baptism and the confirmation afterwards where the gift is given of having the Holy Ghost as a constant comapanion. There was an awkward moment during the talk about baptism that my mother was giving where I halfway expected her to start talking about the birds and the bees, but other than that it was perfect. Mister and I tried to get a few pictures with the birthday girl but after only one my iphone decided it had had enough. So here is our one memento that Mister and I were both at our sweet Adelaide’s baptism.

 

 

A Very Good Garbage Can

February 20, 2013 · 6 comments

in Good Things, Hildie Likes, Mister

Since we have been talking about presents and how I love them, let me tell you about a present Mister gave me a few years ago: a garbage can. Yeah, I know, lame. I thought so too. Let me backtrack a little. When we moved to Texas we left a house with a trash compactor that I was very fond of. But our new house didn’t have one and we needed a large garbage can for the kitchen. I knew exactly where I wanted to put it but I couldn’t find one the right size that opened how I wanted it to.

So on Christmas Mister gave me a fancy garbage can that was exactly right. Except that it was stainless steel. I so hate stainless steel. I want my kitchen to look cozy and colorful and pretty, not like a restaurant kitchen or an operating room. But the can was exactly right so I figured I’d keep it.

And then I saw the price tag. $149!!! For a garbage can! It’s by SimpleHuman and their stuff is not cheap. I really can’t stomach keeping a present that seems like it’s not a good value (ask me about the Profi Whipped Cream maker Mister gave me several years ago that I love–theoretically–but I still refuse to use because it was $100. All it does is make whipped cream! Not a good value).  But I felt like I’d be bratty and ungrateful if I didn’t keep it. So I did.

Other than the sink, I don’t think there is a single item in our kitchen that gets the workout our garbage can does. And our Simple Human garbage can has performed beautifully. I have even overlooked it’s stainless-steelness. The kids have given it quite a beating, though, and last month the hinge on the lid broke.

I emailed Simple Human and explained the situation. They asked me to send a picture of my broken can and tell them when I had purchased it. I have no idea when, exactly, but I guessed five years ago. Well, wouldn’t you know they have a 10 year warrantee on all their products. So the incredibly wonderful people at SimpleHuman paid for me to send back my old broken can and sent me a gorgeous new one. No receipt required.

photo f144d435-4196-4e50-b428-34c7517db855_zps8fc789d6.jpg

It’s not quite the same as the old garbage can but it’s close enough. It even has a dirt-and fingerprint-proof coating that my last one didn’t have.  All in all I’m pretty thrilled.

I don’t know that I feel good about spending $150 on a garbage can, even after all that. But we have absolutely gotten our money’s worth. None of our crummy Rubbermaid garbage cans have lasted anywhere near 10 years. If you break it down it’s about $15 per year. That’s not so bad! Knowing I’m buying something that is made by such a customer-friendly company is very comforting. I love Simple Human. You can see the trash can they sent on Amazon.

 

*Nope. Simple Human did not ask me or pay me to say any of this.

 

My Wonderful Gift

February 19, 2013 · 3 comments

in Good Things, Holidays, Mister

Remember how last week I was saying that Valentine’s Day is stupid unless it involves giving me a present? And that my husband is super fantastic? Guess what he gave me for Valentine’s Day? The most romantic and beloved of gifts: a new laptop.

You probable don’t remember how my Macbook Air died a slow, tubercular death last May. Well, I do. Every single day I do. Every single time I have to use the kids’ stupid computer in the playroom, I do. Or when Mister let me use his old laptop that was the computer equivalent of an old man with renal failure and Alzheimers. It didn’t even have a battery that worked. Which is part of the reason why my blogging has suffered rather a lot since then.

But now I have a shiny new MacBook Pro that will soon be covered with decals and a cushy cover because I am a smidge hard on laptops.

I was very surprised and touched that Mister would have bought me a new computer, especially since his favorite thing to lecture me about is how poorly I treat electronics (I do not deny it). He also told me that I could get a new computer if I sold all his old crap in the garage on Craigs List/ebay. Whatever! I want to get a new computer not earn one! Jeez!  But then the truth came out: my new laptop is actually Mister’s old laptop. It is, in seller’s parlance, gently used.

Oh.

So Mister got himself a new laptop for Valentine’s Day.

Okay, then.

I could choose to be slightly miffed or I can just rejoice that I am back to the land of the living with a laptop that has Photoshop on it. And lots of fancy fonts.

I choose rejoicing.

But don’t get your hopes too up, I’ve still got that whole Relief Society President thing going on.

Valentine’s Day is For Chumps

February 14, 2013 · 2 comments

in Bad Things, Holidays, IMO, Mister

Well, looky here, it’s  Valentine’s Day. When I was younger Valentine’s Day was so incredibly important. Only a naïve young thing would really base the feelings of the person she likes and/or loves on how he behaves on a certain day. But then, that’s who Valentine’s Day is really for–people who are unsure of their partners. Either that or for men who are so lackadaisical about being thoughtful that they must have one day each calendar year to make up for it.

This day has become so contrived and ridiculous. Everyone is encouraged to buy red roses (yawn!) or worse–balloons (how are balloons romantic? Maybe in the same way that Chuck E. Cheese is?) You must go out to eat at some place “romantic”, knowing that the staff are panting to get you out of there so they can seat yet another couple. And that’s if you found someplace that takes reservations. Heaven help you if you show up at the Olive Garden tonight.

Not to brag or anything but I pretty much won the lottery when it comes to thoughtful men. I get flowers ever few weeks, a date every Friday night and a husband who always does the kindest things for holidays. Even when we’ve been broke he comes up with fantastic, sweet ideas. And he is a great present-picker-outer as well. So I don’t really feel the need for Valentine’s Day. I know my man loves me because of the things he does the other 364 days of the year.

No, I will probably not get flowers today. I am thoroughly ok with that. Don’t get me wrong, though; I love, love, love presents and if I happen to get one today I’ll be thrilled (Mister, if you’re reading this there’s a serger I’ve had my eye on.….).

If you’re freaking out that you husband or boyfriend didn’t  spend $80 on a dozen roses, ask yourself why it’s so important that he gives those to you. Maybe you need to relax on the holiday stuff and demand that he pamper you all the rest of the year. (And yes, sometimes you do have to demand it until he gets with the program. Much the way you demand your kids to put away their shoes or do their homework; not to be bratty but to get them to form a habit. See also: how to get your husband to bring you breakfast in bed on the weekends.)

Mister will be firing up the grill tonight (it’s 70°. Lovely.) and making us some superb ribeyes (on my tombstone it will say, “Can’t go wrong with a ribeye”. By far my favorite cut of steak.) and we will have a romantic candlight dinner with all the kiddos. Seriously. They get so jazzed to eat by candlelight. By then the crowds will have thinned out and we’ll go have dessert at my favorite dessert spot in Austin, Chez Zee. Their butterscotch pudding is my favorite dessert on the entire planet. (Don’t think jell-o butterscotch pudding; imagine the most heavenly dish of smooth, creamy, caramelly goodness sprinkled with sea salt. Oh my goodness, I can hardly wait. After that, well, we’ll play it by ear.

Whatever your partner situation, I hope Valentine’s Day makes you happy this year. But remember, it’s not the thing to gauge your entire relationship on.

Me Being Lonesome

September 13, 2012 · 7 comments

in Feeling Sorry for Myself, Mister

There is a certain bliss when your children are all in school: the peace, the quiet, the cleanliness of the house that lasts for hours, not seconds. I would never for one second use the word “lonely” to describe myself while my kids are gone. But this week I have been lonely. Mister, who has been working from home for the past two and a half years, got a new job where he has to go into the office every single day. For the whole day. Although he is not used to this schedule it’s a good job with good health insurance so we’re pretty happy. But I’m suddenly home all alone. In the past Mister had a pretty flexible schedule and we could sneak out to a noon movie or catch up on old Mad Men episodes. Now he has to sit in an office all day every day and it is kind of cramping his style. But a regular paycheck is certainly not cramping his style so he will have to adjust.

Mister is also a singer. As in, singing all the time.

Opera-style at the top of his lungs.

I’m not sure how many people have to scream “BE QUIET” at the top of their lungs across the house to their husbands but I had to do it fairly often. Loud Wagnerian arias are a little annoying when you’re trying to have a phone conversation. Naturally he manages to control the singing when he’s in an office. Which is too bad for his new coworkers. He makes up some pretty hilarious lyrics for his faux-opera songs.

So here I am, all by my lonesome. My built-in playmate is gone. Now I’m going to have to rely on my friends to entertain me. Or else I’ll just take naps whenever I want without anybody barging in and saying, “why are you sleeping?”.

Is there a word for half sad and half excited?

The Little Laptop that Couldn’t

June 19, 2012 · 3 comments

in Bad Things, Blogging, Cars, Mister


Today is How-To Tuesday. And all my photographs for tutorials are stuck on my hard drive. The hard drive that is having an existential crisis and simply won’t start because even though it’s less than a year old, what’s the point. What is the point of it all? That’s what I imagine my hard drive is saying because why else would it not behave itself? It could also be evil. That’s another possibility.

We have been an Apple computer family since way back in the early 90s. Way before ipods or even those really brightly colored Macs. Mister liked Apple products so much he would go to MacWorld every year and wait excitedly to hear Steve Jobs (We shall not remark on the nerdiness or non-nerdiness of my husband). Eventually he started his own Mac store. And then a second one. (Those were the good old days. We always had new computers.) But he has since sold both stores. And so now I have my Macbook Air which is almost four years old. And it’s kind of a lemon.

I’ll be the first to admit that I am extremely hard on my computers. My computers have always taken a beating. But this MacBook Air has had more than its share of problems (you will recall this post where I personally replaced the speaker wiring a few months ago. Yet another repair!) But I got it the first year it came out and that’s always an issue with any product; it takes a while to get the kinks out.

The first year we were married we got a brand new VW Passat. I was so excited, having never gotten a brand new car in my entire life. Unfortunately it was the first year the Passat was being made and there were issues: the windows would spontaneously roll down on their own, it would stall as we were driving, and their air conditioning was seriously messed up. It was terrible and I swore I would never again get a car in the first year of production. And I never have.

Now I’m having that realization about computers too. And I had to remind Mister about our bad luck when he was making me watch the entire multi-hour announcement about the new Macs and drooling all over the place (Ok, they’re super thin. I get it).

I’ve given my computer several days to get itself together and have an attitude adjustment. (That and Mister has finally taken pity on me trying to write blog posts on my phone.) We shall attempt to fix my laptop again today. Please keep us in your prayers.

Father’s Day for the Fatherless

June 17, 2012 · 1 comment

in Family, Holidays, Kids, Mister

Ok, I’m not exactly fatherless. I have a father; he’s just been dead for a very long time. And we weren’t exactly close so missing him has really never been an issue. But this is an odd Father’s Day because my husband is also gone (gone as in “not here”. Not gone as in “dead”). He went to the U.S. Open golf tournament in San Francisco with my sister’s husband. So I didn’t have anyone to make breakfast in bed for, or be nice to.

Here’s where things get even stranger: my four oldest children are all gone as well. They left last Sunday to go to Utah to see their grandparents and cousins. This week they’ll be at BYU for various camps and such so I will have spent two whole weeks without my big babies. It’s been super weird. In some ways it’s nice because we go through about four dishes per day now that all the big eaters are gone. But I also have to do those four dishes myself since my slaves children aren’t here. Also, I have to fold the laundry. I can’t even remember the last time I folded clothes. It’s a drag! I feel really bad for those of you who don’t have teenagers to do all this hard work. Teenagers get a bum rap but I think they’re pretty great.
 
So this last weekend there was just me and the two littles. It was like being on vacation! Strangely the last time I had two children I thought it was the hardest thing in the world. Rather like running three miles. If you asked me to run three miles I would drop dead. But most of my friends are runners and three miles means nothing. It’s all a matter of perspective. Having six children makes two seem breezy and wonderful. I’m sure Michelle Dugger would think the same thing about having only six kids around.

Yesterday was Jasper’s birthday. We felt super bad that everyone was going to be gone, so we lied and convinced him that it was last week before everybody left. Since he’s only turning six and hasn’t learned the finer points of the calendar, he went right along with it and had no idea. Until all the relatives started calling yesterday. And then Ada, the tattliest tattletale of all time, announced that it was actually NOT his birthday when we said it was. It’s times like that when I sort of wish it were OK to punch children.

On that cheerful not, may I wish you a happy Father’s Day. Especially if you are, indeed, a father. Or you are married to a father. Or have a father. Or even just know a father. Have a happy day!

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