Popularity Contest

It would seem that despite our best efforts to leave the insecurities and bids for popularity behind us in the corridors of high school, we never quite out grow the need for approval. I like to consider myself an independent minded person, but I am fully aware that I am a seeker of affirmation. I like to be liked, even by people I don't like.

But there are those of you who give off the impression that you are who you are and you don't care who thinks what. You know who you are. I like to think of myself in those terms occasionally, but if I manage to fool others, I rarely fool myself.

My husband is one of those people who can do anything, or at least he will tell you he can and then figure it out. He doesn't generally let other's opinions effect him over much and his confidence is certainly not lacking. So it made what happened today particularly amusing and revealing.

For work today Rob was scheduled to speak via conference call three different times. At least a thousand people of the North West were invited to join. He was all set up for the conference call and waiting on the line when the operator came on and informed him that no one had joined the call. He was shocked and dismayed. Then even more so when the experience was repeated for his second call. Luckily the third was well attended, but for a short while there it was clear that, despite all logic, part of him took it just a little bit personally. I think at one point he might have even said, "No one wants to listen to me." with shock and awe and little hurt in his voice.

It made me realize how often we seek the approval of others. I seek approval from my husband, my friends, even strangers who read this blog. Maybe not always approval, but acceptance, and encouragement. So, I was just wondering, do you feel the need for approval from others, and if you are willing to admit it, who do you seek it from the most? Your boss? Your parents? Your children? I find that in some way this show of approval and acceptance seems to validate us in our own eyes. Perhaps we are too worried about what we can do, and not who we are. I know I sometimes am.

Home-made Ice Cream and Summer Insanity

As summer is barreling to a close we have been cramming in every ounce of fun we can. Cousins and parties, swimming and picnics, scores of outdoor activities and hours of good old tiring summer freedom and craziness for all. It seems every summer is a contest to out do the one before and this year has been no exception. By the end of summer vacation I need a vacation! Or at least the return of schedules and sanity. But one summer ritual that never gets old (But which I try to restrict due to the direct and undesirable affect it has upon my waistline) is making home made ice cream and waffle cones and bowls.

Each year I try new flavors and, of course, often make my tested and true vanilla batches that can be sprinkled with fruit or drizzled with gooey melted peanut butter and melted chocolate chips. . .or enjoyed in all it's unadulterated simplicity--YUM-O. This year I have a new favorite--Honey Vanilla. AND I tried a new waffle cone recipe that is oh so good. So just to tempt you, I'm going to share.

Honey Vanilla Ice Cream

The very small cast of ingredients. (Here is where I--queen of picture taking--forgot to take pictures of the steps so you will have to use your imagination. . .or follow these few simple instructions.)

Beat five yolks and 1/2 cup of honey in a mixing bowl.

Heat 2 cups of milk in a sauce pan until it reaches boiling point, then simmer. While it is simmering, stir in the egg yolk/honey mixture. Stir until it thickens

Remove from heat and strain. Let cool. (Or like me, finish mixing ingredients in, stick it directly in the mixer then run out of ice before it freezes, then let it cool while the ice maker makes more ice and try again--on second thought, just let it cool first!)

Now that it is cool add 1 cup heavy cream and 1 teaspoon of vanilla, THEN transfer to ice cream maker. Freeze according to directions for ice cream maker.

When it looks like this, put it in the freezer to get really good texture and stiffness.

Then let your four year old (Or ten year old, or forty year old) lick the ice cream mixer clean.

In the mean time, make your waffle cones, or bowls, like I did this time. For this you will need a waffle cone iron. Buy one, it's worth it--just ask my mother.

My New Favorite Waffle Cone

Stuff you will need: Heavy cream, vanilla, powdered sugar, flour, cinnamon, nutmeg, cornstarch and oil for the iron.

Whip 1 cup of heavy cream and 1 1/2 teaspoons of vanilla until mousse-like (no peaks).

Sift together 1 1/2 cups of powder sugar, 1 1/2 cups of all purpose flour, 1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon, a pinch of nutmeg, and 1 tablespoon of cornstarch. Stir into cream to make a batter. Let sit for 30 minutes.

Heat up the waffle cone iron and brush or spray with oil. Spoon the batter close to the lid so when the lid closes it spreads out evenly over the iron. (This is not my best example, but it's the only one I took a picture of.)

Here you can either wrap around the cone form (and stand up in a cup to keep its shape. . .)

Or like I did this time, press into a bowl to cool.

Then fill it with ice cream and try not to drool while spooning it into your mouth. Mmmmm. Well, maybe just a little. It is THAT good.

Next I think I will try Coconut Ice Cream. It's a good thing summer is only three months. This could really get out of hand! But hey, with all the energy we have been exerting surely we've earned it!

High Achiever

Signe and her friend Grace have long expressed a desire to be veterinarians (Long being approximately 6 months--bear in mind they are four). They a very alike. So when Grace attended a sporting event and became enraptured by the cheerleaders and threw over all hopes and aspirations to be a "pet doctor" in favor of cheerleading, Signe decided that sounded like a great career goal.



As the mothers of such ambitious girls, Lisa and I signed them up for a cheerleading camp this past week. It was three hours. The girls learned moves and a cheer and flips and got their eyes made up and received a bag at the end.




Great fun, right?


Midway through Signe was lying on the ground as often as not and when it was her turn to be lifted high the air above the two high school girls that were assisting, Signe gave them a suspicious look and crossed her arms.



"Will I be alive after this?" she questioned the instructors.


They assured her she would be fine and she reluctantly let them lift her into the air.



Afterward I asked her how she liked cheerleading.


"It was good." She says with little conviction.


"Was it fun?" I ask.


"Not SO much fun. It wore me out." She admits.


"So do you still want to be a cheerleader?"


"No." she answers.


"What do you want to be now?" I ask. Because you never know what might strike their fancy. Grace still wants to be cheerleader. . .or a waitress.


"A pet doctor." Signe states with certainty.



Apparently the best deterrent is to let them try it out! Do you think they have a vet camp somewhere? Because it is never too early to nail down what one's four year old must be when she grows up. What does your child aspire to be?

There's No Place Like Home. . .

Can I just say "Ahhhhhh."

After a nearly two weeks away from home it is GREAT to be back. I can honestly say it feels good to be doing laundry and dishes and washing sheets and making beds. Everyone should take an extended vacation so they can appreciate their home a little more.

I love my bed.

I love my yard as the sun rises very early in the morning over the trees and sheds rays of light on my flowers.

I love the smell of things growing.

I love baking in my kitchen and eating on my dishes.

I love getting back into routine, in my house and on my computer.

I missed my photoshop.

I love my neighbors who run over to help any time I ask.

I love being able to leave my window open despite it being August and let the cool breeze blow through all day. . . OH WAIT, I can't do that this weekend.

It seems I brought the heat back from Idaho with me. We are having record heat--99 today! But right now it is only 74 degrees so I won't think about that.

The only thing currently putting a damper on my home bound bliss is the fact that my girls are having . . .shall we say, a hard time acclimating to the regularly scheduled program of our life. Apparently they don't share in my enthusiasm for fresh sheets and clutter free floors.

Do you suppose it's something they will grow into?

White Dresses. . .Revisited

You might recall my post about all things white. The white sundress made my list of lovely white things that I can't get enough of. While I have been here in Idaho visiting family it just so happened that not only did I bring my girls' white dresses, but Rob's sister brought her girls' white dresses. I couldn't resist.

The only thing prettier than a little girl in a white sundress is a whole passel of little girls in white sundresses.

So I followed them around (and occasionally told them where to stand) and took loads of pictures of them in all their purity and innocence. . .

. . .because when they look like this, you don't remember their arguing, or their love of dirt, or their occasional sassiness. . .

It's a sight that just makes you sigh and deceives you for a short while into believing that they are perfect little angels who are always clean and well behaved. . .

The sun glinting off the golden locks of this six pack helps to foster the illusion. . .

Never mind the myriad of possible ways white dresses and small children are incompatible. . .

Or that streams beds are not always flowing with pure, clean, sparkly water. . .

Forget about all that . . . look at the loveliness, the innocence. . .and when all that fails??

Remember the bleach!

Is That Tom Cruise??

No, it's just my nephew, Lance. Growing up he has had an increasing resemblance to Tom Cruise, but when he walked off the plane I couldn't believe the striking resemblance.



His aunt joked that we should have found a Katie look alike to stand out front and greet him.



But his family was sure glad to see him after two years. My sister has been giddy with excitement to have him home. He has been serving an LDS mission in Hong Kong.



Apparently he gets mistaken for Tom at least twice a day. Personally, I think Lance is cuter. But perhaps I'm biased.

Simple Pleasures

Summer is full of simple pleasures. With hours of unstructured time to fill the girls get creative. They spend endless hours outside and in the water and visiting Manna and Grammy's houses. But one of my favorite things about summer, the quintessential symbol of summer, is announced with the unmistakable tinkling sound of Music Box Dancer, every Friday night.

My girls have come to expect the blue ice cream truck and wait impatiently each week for it to arrive. Some weeks they wait for hours in hopes that it is just late and go in disappointed.

I won't lie to you. I am waiting right there with them. You see, I love the ice cream truck. I don't even have to actually purchase any of the frozen delights the truck has to offer. I just love to hear the cheery tune and see the brightly painted jeep with it's side plastered with images of sticky goodness.

I grew up in the country. Ice cream trucks were rare indeed. In fact, I have only one memory of the ice cream truck ever showing up near my house. I ran to the street and flagged down the driver. I did not even take time to grab my cash. I was an excited young girl, maybe seven or eight, thrilled to finally have my first encounter with the legendary Ice Cream Man.

After assuring the man I would just run inside and grab some money I sprinted away in anticipation, only to return and find he had gone. I was devastated. He never came by again.

So when I hear the distant tinkling notes of Music Box Dancer I run, not walk, to gather my girls--and some cash-- and head for the curb. And I bring my camera. Because I want them to enjoy the simplest pleasure of summer. . . and I want it documented so we can look back later, when the rain commences, or the girls are too old to care, and enjoy it all over again.