Canning in january.

Did you know that Fuji apples have a shelf life of six months easily in the refrigerator? Granny Smith's don't do quite so well, however. So I canned the last of them this weekend and they now reside on top of my cupboards. And that makes me happy.

Moral agency.

I really enjoyed our lesson in Relief Society yesterday on moral agency. While discussing addiction, someone made the comment that she wished reading the scriptures was as addicting as a great novel or a three-hour indulgence in solitaire. The teacher then surmised that perhaps it is possible to become addicted to the scriptures when one is so entrenched in the habit and reinforced by the light and truth it brings into one's life. I failed to comment, because the discussion steered in a different direction, but here are my thoughts on that:
The scriptures will never be addicting. Why? Because our Heavenly Father wants us to choose Him, against all odds. If we were to just "fall into" the habit of reading the scriptures as one easily falls prey to addiction by indulging (just once, in some cases), then everyone would read the scriptures all the time. Things that are addicting are that way because they are easy. Yes, the knowledge and peace we gain when we diligently study the scriptures are great reinforcement and motivate us to seek a habit of reading them, but that novel on my nightstand will always be more tempting to pick up than my scriptures because it is mindless, it doesn't require as much effort on my part.
It will always be more difficult to do what is right - but, as we all know, the rewards for doing hard things far surpass the momentary pleasure of doing what's easy. I know that. And to me, picking up those scriptures when so many other things beckon me is infinitely worth it.

Best quote of the week.

And the prize goes to Rachel, for uttering so eloquently:

"My favorite vegetable is fruit."

Poor fourth child.

Her favorite thing in the world is a stuffed animal, but she cannot lay claim to a single one of the 50 plus that exist in our home. Anytime she demonstrates a preference for a particular pet, the sister who happens to own the animal coincidentally decides it's her favorite. Right then.
Solution: A birthday visit to Build-A-Bear.

I went armed with a coupon, a gift card, and an iron will to resist the temptation of giving in to my daughters' pleas to walk out of the store with every outfit, accessory, and sound effect known to man for the most expensive plush toy the establishment sells. Even then, I walked away wondering how on earth I let myself get suckered into paying an arm and a leg for four stupid stuffed animals that are going to get their fur trimmed, bodies dragged through the mud, then washed, then covered with loving sticky fingers, then washed again... you know the drill... and then end up in the D.I. pile (or trash) within the year. It's the only way my kids know how to love, apparently. Which is why we've never gone to Build-a-Bear before. Nevertheless, Eve has her token stuffed animal, with her name on it and the older girls can check Build-a-Bear off their bucket list.

As a side note, Anna couldn't decide on just one "extra" (the allotment for each child as per my instructions) so she used her own money to buy a matching puppy for her new dog. Still, as she handed over the cash when we got home, I could see the buyer's remorse set in as she asked me whether or not I had any chores she could get paid to do and requested that I sock away ten additional dollars into her online savings account. Funny, how that puppy had seemed so important just an hour before when we were surrounded by materialism at its best but as soon as we got home it took back seat to her college fund. I love that girl. She just might make it after all.

Two?

Can it be? We've reached a milestone at our house: the "baby" has reached the age of two, is still "the baby", and there's no bun in the oven (or in the near future, or in my wildest dreams) to speak of. I keep wondering if you have to have another baby to stop calling the youngest the "baby". Because we can't help ourselves - we all call her that with loving affection. It helps that her mop of hair resembles that of a typical one-year-old and that she shows no inclination to use the potty. And yet, she's talking in complete sentences, putting on her own shoes, and resistant to her big sisters' attempts to take care of her.
Ah, Baby Eve. We love you and wish you would stay our baby forever and ever. And ever. Happy second birthday.

The cake.


The child. Er, I mean, the baby.

Stuck.

Tim and I like to discuss finances on our road trips while the kids are lose themselves in mind-numbing DVDs. No worries - this is not a subject of contention in our marriage - quite the contrary. In fact, I would venture to say that money is the one typical marriage sore spot about which we are perfect for each other. In other words, we are both cheapskates, or "parsimonious", as my dad would say. So, on January 1st, as we traveled home from San Diego, the conversation was no different: how thrilled we were that our trip had cost less than expected, our resolution to aggressively pay down mortgage debt, work on a Roth IRA, etc. It's terribly romantic, I tell you.

And then, a mile or so away from my parent's house in Utah, our car broke down. A heck of a lot of money to repair. Long story short, we came home with this:


A new, but old car. So much for our inexpensive Christmas. So here's the good news:
We were not in the middle of nowhere when our friendly minivan decided to go kaput.

My parents were generous enough to house, feed and cart us to and fro for two days while we purchased our new, old car.

The Relief Society activity I was in charge of went off without a hitch thanks to a reliable committee, a tireless neighbor and a bit of inspiration from me, who had 1. planned ahead enough that I needed only to make a couple of small assignments at the last minute and 2. had the foresight to give my neighbor a key to my house so she could access all the stuff I had already purchased for the activity. Brilliant.

We had an emergency fund (albeit a bit smaller now) to cover the costs of our new, old vehicle.

Note: Our kids asked us why we bought an old car, to which we responded, because if we bought a new one, you guys would make it look old in about two weeks! Sad, but true. Oh well, at least they can appreciate the fact that it's red.

Christmas 2010. Finally.

Legoland




Decorating the Chrismas tree with Grandma.




Early morning cartoons and candy for breakfast.



Dry clean only? Yep, the kids will be removing this year's dress from Grandma immediately following church.


Point Loma Tide Pools






Our weak (and only) attempt at a family picture in 14 days:


Seal Beach



Cousins = inseparable.


Is it possible to be near the ocean and feel anything besides glee?


Balboa Park