Claus and Effect

Is there really a Santa?
There must be . . . of course,
If there's not - how do presents and toys
Get delivered each year
By eight tiny reindeer
To the homes of all the good girls and boys?

The traditional tale
Of the night before Christmas
Says Santa piles gifts in his sleigh,
And takes off through the snow
With a grand, "Ho Ho Ho"
To deliver the goodies our way?

And no matter how big
Or how little we are
When we slip into bed Christmas Eve,
We all want to think,
"Santa's heading our way!"
We're trying our best to believe.

Is there really a list
Of who's naughty or nice
That's compiled by our merry old friend?
Have we made all this up?
Is there really a Santa?
Or, is this whole story pretend?

If there wasn't a Santa
Would childrens eyes sparkle
The way that they do when they see
All the special surprises
Of all shapes and sizes
Awaiting them under the tree?

If there wasn't a Santa
Would stockings be hung?
Would our homes be as merry and bright?
Would mistletoe, holly,
And boughs be so jolly?
Would our loved ones be such a delight?

If there wasn't a Santa
Would Christmas time feasts
Be as full of good food and good cheer?
Would grown ups be children
Again, for a while?
Would our troubles somehow disappear?

There's really a reason
For holiday hoopla -
A reason our halls are bedecked.
There's surely somebody
Behind all of this,
A cause for the Christmas effect.

As we hear far away,
"Merry Christmas To All"
And glimpse a sleigh dashing into the night,
We're smugly amused -
For the riddle's been solved . . .
There is really a Santa Claus!

Right?


(from a book by Mary Engelbreit)

Cary Grant Christmas Lullabye

Merry Christmas to our once "little ones", who have grown up to be big ones with their own little ones. The love never ends . . .

Have a wonderful Christmas!

I love you ALL dearly.

Mom


www.myspace.com/carysings/music/songs/christmas-lullaby-2979712

Talk for Dec. 17, 2011

I love Christmas carols. If you come into our home, you will notice displays of carolers on most of the flat surfaces. I imagine them like the heavenly host from Luke 2, singing joyfully and triumphantly for the long awaited birth of our Savior. “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.“
One of my favorite carols is about a King from Czechoslovakia in the 1400’s:

“Good King Wenceslas”

Good King Wenceslas looked out
On the feast of Stephen
When the snow lay round about
Deep and crisp and even.
Brightly shone the moon that night
Though the frost was cruel
When a poor man came in sight
Gath'ring winter fuel

"Hither, page, and stand by me
If thou know'st it, telling
Yonder peasant, who is he?
Where and what his dwelling?"
"Sire, he lives a good league hence
Underneath the mountain
Right against the forest fence
By Saint Agnes' fountain."

"Bring me flesh and bring me wine
Bring me pine logs hither
Thou and I will see him dine
When we bear him thither."
Page and monarch forth they went
Forth they went together
Through the rude wind's wild lament
And the bitter weather

"Sire, the night is darker now
And the wind blows stronger
Fails my heart, I know not how,
I can go no longer."
"Mark my footsteps, my good page
Tread thou in them boldly
Thou shalt find the winter's rage
Freeze thy blood less coldly."

In his master's steps he trod
Where the snow lay dinted
Heat was in the very sod
Which the Saint had printed
Therefore, Christian men, be sure
Wealth or rank possessing
Ye who now will bless the poor
Shall yourselves find blessing

I love these lyrics, because the King doesn’t order the page to bring in the poor man by himself, “forth they went together.” And when the page struggles with the dark and cold as he follows, the King comforts and encourages him, telling him to “tread in his footsteps and it will be less cold. As the page steps in his master’s steps, “Heat was in the very sod, which the Saint had printed”.
The image of this carol is meaningful to me, all year long.

This week, we finished the 1st 12 days of December, secretly dropping off goodies to our neighbors across the street for 12 days. I knew the situation in their “household”. (An elderly 93 year old grandmother, her daughter, her granddaughter, and 2 mentally handicapped teenage great grand children of the granddaughter.) Our 3 year old granddaughter, Kate, was in on the fun as we lined up each of the wrapped goodies in anticipation of the next day’s sneaky “drop off”. We would carefully cross the street, heading the opposite direction, in case they suspected us. Then, we would cross through yards and hedges to slip sideways to their front door. Kate got pretty good. She knew the path after a few days and could get in and out pretty smoothly. Every day, we would laugh quietly all the way home, because who doesn’t like goodies? On the 12th day, we delivered 12 drum shaped sugar cookies, actually rang their door bell, and stood for their answer. Phyllis, the granddaughter, who I knew best, came to the door. We explained that we were their “true friends” (like it had said on every tag of goodies). And we just wanted to wish them a Merry Christmas. About that time, she stepped out onto the porch, pulling the door behind her so as not to let in the cool air. As she did, we noticed a big, metal hospital bed set up in their living room, right next to the front door. We couldn’t see details clearly, but we all knew that the frail grandmother lay cared for on that bed. Phyllis explained that the bed only fit in that front room. We tried to make conversation, both now knowing that behind her front door was not the typical front room setting. She was very pleased about the goodies and hadn’t suspected anyone, really. Then, as if we were her visiting teachers, the words came out, “So, if there is ever anything you need, please give me a call.” She thanked us kindly and smiled as she turned to step back inside.
Kate had seen what I saw, and the walk home was a little more somber than the other days. I answered a few of her concerned questions on the way home. . . Two things I did know: 1) They were the first in our neighborhood to display Christmas lights. I knew they celebrated Christmas. 2) Every day after the “drop off” the goodies had been retrieved within a few minutes. They must have looked forward to them. It still feels good to know, even though life behind each of our doors is different, that a better friendship has been formed.
I have thought about them every day.

This talk could have easily ended at the assigned 3 minute mark, however a small miracle happened that you might like to know. . .

Our doorbell rang,just as I was putting these thoughts together. I hurried to open the front door. To my great delight, Phyllis is standing there with an arm full of goodies - A chocolate cheesecake and a big Christmas stocking with coloring books inside, especially for Kate. I was in awe. I could only hug her.

Like Good King Wenceslas, are my footsteps big and warm enough to comfort and give compassion to someone else? Or, like the page, am I thankful for the examples of others footsteps that make my path less cold? Humbly, I began to feel the warmth of her footprints.

The last verse of “O Holy Night”, sings:
Truly He taught us to love one another, His law is love and His gospel is peace.
I pray that "heat will be in the very sod" of our footprints as we live by His teachings to love and serve one another.

A Lesson for Children

A Lesson for Children.

Pray to God.
Love God.
Fear God.
Serve God.
Take not God's
Name in vain.
Do not Swear.
Do not Steal.
Cheat not in your play.
Play not with bad boys.
Call no ill names.
Use no ill words.
Tell no lies.
Hate Lies.
Speak the Truth.
Spend your Time well.
Love your School.
Mind your Book.
Strive to learn.
Be not a Dunce

The New England Primer of 1777

"He's Going to Fall Off of There!"

Today is Gregg's birthday. He's 25. He'll always be our youngest child, but he has grown up.

I remember at our house on Juniper Street when Gregg was less than a year old, our neighbor Judith would come over. She would walk through the grass from her yard to ours, and continue on past the front window and door. When she got to the kitchen window, she would peek in. Gregg would be sitting at the bar on a bar stool, eating or playing (no strapping in, just a great balance) while I puttered around the kitchen. It never failed, when she saw Gregg, she would let out a vocal gasp / scream. And then when I opened the back door, she would tell me again, "He's going to fall off of there!"

For some reason I never worried. I knew he was stable and I reassured her each time. He never did fall off. Those were sweet days. I'm proud to be Gregg's mother and I have always been glad for his stability and my knowledge that he wouldn't fall off. He is a joy and a wonderful example of faith and strength.

Happy Happy Birthday Gregg!
I Love you, dearly!
Mom

This is a photo that Julianne sent. I think of it so often. It reminds me of a Hallmark greeting card with a message that reads: "Love Life!" Can you tell they do??? If you listen real close, you can even hear them.

I love these kids!

at home quote

Methinks it is a token of healthy and gentle characteristics, when women of high thoughts and accomplishments love to sew; especially as they are never more at home with their own hearts than while so occupied.

~Nathaniel Hawthorne, The Marble Faun, 1859



(This hit the spot with me. . .I like it!)

Piano Lessons

I was thinking the other day about how my parents introduced me to the piano.
They had some friends from New Zealand who were needing to temporarily store their piano . My parents offered to keep it at our house on Cheery Lynn. I was 8. Perfect timing. Now they just needed a piano teacher for me.

Enter - Mrs Arlene Rice. She came once a week and sat next to me on a chair by the bench. I'll never forget looking at her, but not at her eyes. When I looked at her, my nose met her shoulder. That wasn't so bad, but she had the biggest vaccination scar I'd ever seen - as big as a half dollar. That's what I saw when I turned to her. It scared me. After a while, I would just nod and keep looking at the music. She was a good teacher, though. And she liked me. She just had some quirky characteristics that I won't ever forget.
After a year or so, I was progressing and had an interest, so Mom and Dad purchased a piano.

Mrs. Rice lived in Glendale and she would have "study class" at her home every couple of months. We had to car pool and that put me in the back seat of a car with some older kids I barely knew. We were to come prepared to play for each other, clapping politely after each piece. She always had refreshments for us, too. That was nice, until the night I accidentally spilled my red punch all over her front room carpet. Yep. . .

At a Halloween recital one year, she encouraged us to dress up and play spooky music. I don't remember what I played or what I wore. My brother and parents don't either. But we all remember what Mrs. Rice wore. She dressed up like a "fairy" (I think). Maybe there was a dry cleaner close by because she used yards and yards of plastic wrap to wind, drape, pouf, and gather herself in from head to toe. We laughed about that for years.

I took from her for 7 or 8 years. Most of my foundation came from her. I have to give her a lot of credit. When I was in need of a new piece, she would reach into her big bag and pull out an assortment of sheet music and spread them across the piano. Then, she'd play each one and ask me to choose. Those were my favorite days. A new piece!

When I was 16, my brother Jon was ready to take piano. Mom had heard of a teacher not far from us that we could drive to for lessons . Her name was Mrs. Hansen. She was different, also. We weren't taking there long before we learned that her older son had gone to prison. She was a nice lady, and talented, too. (I just had a hard time concentrating, worrying who might walk through her door!) She had a beautiful appreciation for chords. Jazz chords and improvising. I still play pieces she gave me because I was so intrigued with this new chord concept. Jon flourished there, too. The first time I drove myself anywhere after I got my license, was to my piano lesson at Mrs. Hansen's. I'll never forget driving our big white '57 Cadillac east along Osborn Road, hanging a left to go north onto 56th St. and then turning right to go east again onto Indian School.

In my later years of high school, I transferred again to another teacher. Her name was Mrs. Kramer. I could drive to her house, too. She lived on 36th St. just north of Indian School. Mom must have learned of her abilities to teach classics, since that is what I studied with her. I would get to her house and take a seat in her front room next to the lava lamp. I could hear the instruction of the lesson before me while I watched that strange gooey stuff float around into odd shapes. She worked me hard, also. It took me weeks and months to polish off pieces. She would get impatient if I took too long to finish a piece. (She just didn't understand the busy life of a teenager!) One day, as I mastered a piece, I jumped when she excitedly called to her husband down the hall, "Didn't that sound better, honey?" As if he was the secret judge of approval. Where did he come from anyway?

I think piano teachers are a strange breed. They all have quirks. That's what scares me. I'm the teacher now, with quirks only my students can write and tell about me, forever more. Nothing changes. You don't think I notice when I pretend a student is listening to me, when really he hasn't quit looking at my nose for long enough? Oh, I notice. It's a good thing I've been there!

Another strange thing is that the Halloween Recital is my favorite one of the year. You should have seen me the year I bought rubber warts and stuck them to perfect places on my face. . .

September 8, 1954

Today is Jeff Buehner's birthday. Jim and Jon went to the temple this morning at 6:30 AM. Mom was scheduled to work at the temple from 10 until 1:30. After that, Dad was going to meet her and they would do a session. My day was free in the later morning, so I went through at 11:30. It was nice. We usually try to go through the temple on Jeff's birthday. Sometimes we've been able to go together. Other times, like today, we all went when we could. The nice part was, we all had Jeff in mind. I can't think of anything I would rather have done today.
I saw Mom at the temple, sitting behind her little desk. I waved as she looked up and smiled. She looks right at home there. I'm grateful.
Tonight, I called to chat and she informed me that when she and Dad left the temple earlier (in separate cars), she had a flat tire on the way home. She was behind Dad and sadly, he didn't even notice she had turned off. But a miracle happened. She parked and was just getting ready to get out, when Dale Patterson pulled up.  Out of the blue1 She was in his neighborhood and there he was and there she was. She had everything he needed to change the tire, so Dale got to work. It was only 106 degrees and he is still recovering from heart surgery, but he didn't skip a beat. He kept telling Mom to get in the shade.
Yes. I'd say that was a miracle. A birthday miracle from Jeff straight to his mother. Never say heaven is too far away.
Happy birthday, Jeffrey Walter Buehner.
I LOVE you.

Your grateful sister,
Jody

911

The doorbell rang yesterday afternoon about 2:30. I was reading "The Book Thief" and was in a trans. Putting the book down I shook back into reality.
I had to pinch myself when I opened the door and saw a big policeman standing there. Black uniform from tall head to toe. I was intimidated. It's amazing how much anxiety can speed through your mind in a split second, when you aren't planning to see a policeman face to face! "Oh no! . . .What has happened?! . . .Where are my loved ones!? . . . I need to sit down!"
Before I could imagine the worst any longer, he said, "Did you call 911?"
Then in a flash, I recalled what I had been doing the last 30 minutes (reading)! And I knew both of our phones had been untouched for most of the morning.
Out of my mouth, as if on trial came, "No. I did not."
I was completely puzzled. (Does he believe me? Now what will he say?)

- a split second later -

About that time, in the open door, I could feel Hairy desperately trying to escape between our feet. No amount of tap dancing could keep her in. Believe me, I tried. But she was off. The policeman said, "Will she come back?"
Things seemed less tense after the escape. I could tell he wasn't worried about the emergency call anymore. So, I stepped outside and we both turned to walk out the driveway - him to his shiny police car parked in front of Kameron's to let all the neighbors know there is some excitementIwonderwhatsgoingon?! and me, to search for Hairy. I mentioned to him that it was kind of weird about the 911 call from our house. He said the dispatcher had identified it as ours, and all she heard was a "click, clicking sound".
Then I told him about our ongoing trouble with Quest. How the neighborhood is being torn up daily as they dig for faulty lines to repair.
As I clapped my hands like a hungry seal, and yelled like a loon for her to stop, running all the way up the street, the big policeman followed slowly behind in his shiny car, just in case of who knows what? I grabbed Hairy just like I always do and marched her back to the house.
Relieved, I decided it might be time to let the land line go and use only our cells.
Now, if I only knew how to handle Hairy!

Collections

I am HOOKED on pinterest! You would think that with all my wonderful abilities, I would be stuck on crafts or recipes or beauty (kidding!). But NO. I can't get enough of . . . quotes, signs, and sayings. From inspirational to humor. I repin other people's pins like a mad woman stealing free candy bars. More, more, more! Here are a couple that I stole (read) from other people. The rest are in a treasured collection on my pinterest board. These were off of facebook and I couldn't figure out how to pin them. I know . . . I'll blog them! Doesn't that sound like a crazy woman?



When life gives you
A hundred reasons to cry,
Show life that you have
A thousand reasons to smile.

and . . .

When something goes wrong,
It's more important to decide
Who is going to fix it,
Than who to blame.

August 17, 1979

When Randy and I were planning our wedding reception, one of the fun parts was deciding what kind of cake to serve. We were referred to a few people, but the one we chose stood out because of her Italian Cream flavor. Many years ago, I ran across this recipe from Watkins vanilla. I've made it every year since. . . on our anniversary. It still brings back great memories!

Mrs. Dowells Italian Cream Cake

1/2 c. margarine
1/2 c. vegetable shortening
2 c. sugar
5 eggs
2 c. flour (sifted 2 times)
1 tsp. soda
1 c. buttermilk
1 3 1/2 can coconut
1 cup chopped nuts (pecans)
1 tsp. Watkins vanilla extract
1 tsp. Watkins coconut flavor (though I've never added this)

Separate eggs and beat whites until stiff. Set aside.
Cream margarine, vegetable shortening, and add sugar.
Add egg yolks one at a time, beating well after each addition.
Dissolve soda in buttermilk, add alternately with flour.
Beat well.Add coconut, nuts, and Watkins extract.
Fold in stiffly beaten egg whites.
Pour into 3 greased and floured 9" cake pans, using 2 cups batter for each pan.
Bake in 350 degree oven for 25 minutes.

Cream Cheese Frosting

1 8 oz. package cream cheese (softened)
1/2 c. margarine
1 1 lb. box powdered sugar
1 tsp. Watkins Almond extract

Combine ingredients and beat well.
Spread between layers and on top of cooled cake.

Happy 32nd Anniversary, Randy! I Love You!

Sweet Memories

Sweet Memories

Potato head parts,
Chicken game pieces,
The rolling pin under the chair.
Dress up clothes bracelets,
Soft tool box toys,
The bands from her pigtailed hair.

Half eaten banana,
Crumbs on the bar,
The small jelly purse of pink.
Dry erase markers,
White board with designs,
The bottle brush tucked by the sink.

Oatmeal for toddlers,
Light and Fit yogurt,
The little black bow tie.
Big bubble wands,
Bib draped high chair,
The “Darburts” and “Gittles” up high.

Car seats we borrowed,
Sewing machines,
Yellow paint, and Mandy’s cello.
Towels with the smudges,
Pete's bib in my whites,
The remedy strawberry Jell-O.

The prelist of fun,
Animal crackers,
Rumpled sheets from climbs out of the sack,
Cheesecake remains,
A big princess ring,
The pacifier you failed to pack.

Please don’t touch a thing!
We’ll savor the time
Returning . . .and let’s make it clear,
It might take a while,
Since the treasures left out
Bring sweet memories that you were here.

With LOVE to Emmie, Peter, Julianne, and Brenden (July 14 – August 7, 2011)
From Grandma Jody and Grandpa Randy

Monsoon Matchmaker

About 8 years ago this summer, we set off for the cabin in Macks - without Julianne. She had to work and also there was a cute new boyfriend in the works, which made her staying more bearable. As we left the house that day, we bid farewell to the both of them with the encouragement to BE GOOD. They would be. I was just hoping he would hang around long enough to still be there when we got back.

As we sat packed around the cabin table, playing cards one night, the telephone rang. Jim was the closest and reached to answer it. We all paused and took a break while we listened in to the conversation.
Jim: "Hello. . . . Oh, oh . . .You're kidding! . . ." We know Jim too well. He can make you laugh at a flat tire. So it was fun to hear him "joke" on the phone. But after a dramatic one sided exchange, he handed the phone to Randy, and with a tone of solemnity in his voice said, "It's really bad!" (Again, that Jim. What a card!) Randy's conversation lasted a little longer. And we pretty much stopped the game when he stood up and walked away from the table.

It turned out, that was a fun filled summer of big monsoons in AZ. Julianne and Brenden had just returned home with a pizza, ready to settle down in front of the TV. When they came downstairs, to their surprise,there was water everywhere. Especially in Carianne's middle bedroom as water filled the window well, caused by a broken sump pump. It looked like a water fall, filling the room with inches of water. There stood Julianne and Brenden. . . That's when Julianne went hysterical (a sight any new boyfriend should never have to behold). And that's also when Brenden ran upstairs and jumped into the filling window well from the back yard. Shoes, clothes and all (a sight any new girl friend would swoon over). He was able to clear and relieve the clogged drain. Now there was only a basement full of standing water. The home teacher was called. A rug man was called. Fans were placed everywhere. Our phones rang off the hook. And that all took place deep into the night and early morning.

I can't imagine the panic, when they saw the predicament. The story goes down in their history. But I learned a lot about Brenden that summer. He stuck around, instead of throwing his hands up. His evident love and devotion for Julianne was so apparent, and continues to be. Any one that can over look hysterics and still think about solutions gets my vote. I pretty much think he is a winner! I couldn't ask for more.

Happy Birth month, Brenden!
Love,
Your indebted mother in law

Being Fully Present

be fully present
from an open [sketch]book by suzanne cabrera
newhands
A few years ago I thought I needed six hands...now it appears as though I need eight...or do I?

Shortly after writing yesterday's post, I stumbled upon this excerpt from Samantha Power's commencement speech at Occidental College. It really struck a chord--or perhaps more accurately, a nerve--with me, so I wanted to share it with you.

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

IN WHATEVER YOU do, try to be present, fully present. As Satchel Paige put it, “Work like you don’t need the money. Love like you’ve never been hurt. Dance like nobody’s watching.” You gotta be all in. This means leaving your technology behind occasionally and listening to a friend without half of your brain preoccupied by its inner longing for the red light on the BlackBerry.

I have gotten some glimpses of modern learning: In many college classes, laptops depict split screens—notes from a class, and then a range of parallel stimulants: NBA playoff statistics on ESPN.com, a flight home on Expedia, and a new flirtation on Facebook....I know how good you are at multitasking. You have developed the modern muscle set. I know of what I speak because I, too, am a culprit.

You have never seen a U.S. government official and new mother so dexterous in her ability simultaneously to BlackBerry and breast-feed. But I promise you that over time this doesn’t cut it. Something or someone loses out. No more than a surgeon can operate while tweeting can you reach your potential with one ear in, one ear out. You actually have to reacquaint yourself with concentration. We all do. We should all become, as Henry James prescribed, a person “on whom nothing is lost.”

[via The Week]
Add star

Candy Selecting

Children are a blessing. They are so cute when they're little. And even though you want the clock to stop, you try to look into their faces imagining the beautiful adults they'll be someday. And oh, the prayers!

Carianne was always anxiously engaged in good things. The typical interests were there. Playing, pleasing, sisterhood, collecting friends, being goofy. By high school, she had a fun collection of friends. Boys started popping up more and more and she fit right in. Not many week-ends went by that she didn't have a group to be with.

I remember trying to help her realize how important it was to choose her boy friends carefully. It was like she might be standing in front of a tall display of candy. The best pieces were on the top - the big chocolate covered cashew, caramel filled clusters. The Bit-o-Honeys and little tootsie rolls were at the bottom for a dime a dozen. She was deserving and could reach those chocolate beauties at the top, with a little stretch. Or she could take the easy way and settle for the ones below. If these boys were candy, where would they be placed on the big candy display? And which ones would she really rather have? (There were a couple that I could imagine not having to reach for at all :))

Rusty appeared while she was at ASU. He happened to be in her singles ward. There was a lot of "candy selecting" going on in those days. That's just what happens when you're a young adult. It was a delight to see them come together. He and Carianne make a perfect pair. I'll always be SO thankful Rusty was on that top shelf! Funny, that's where he found her, too!

You're the best, Rusty!
Happy Birthmonth!
Mom Clawson

the facial

For my birthday, I was given 2 certificates for a facial at a place here in Chandler. These certificates were donated for a charity auction, but no one bid, so Randy purchased them. I had always wondered what a facial would be like. Some of my "uppity" friends had raved about them. But I am a simple girl. Besides, I half knew that if I tried one facial, there would be no turning back. I would only want more. They had an expiration date on them, and I found myself making an appointment, even though I had no idea what I was in for.

The phone call scared me a little. The receptionist was Spanish and I could hardly understand her thick accent. I suddenly got an image in my mind of the health clinic I took our kids to when we first moved to Chandler. We were new in town and I didn't know where to go, to get updated shots for school. To be fast, we headed to what I will call "the scary place". (I quickly gathered the kids up and left!) . . . So, the appointment was made for 10:30 on Thurstay. I was so worried, I rehearsed in my mind what I would say before I committed to do anything. What if the place was dirty? What if they only did Lazar treatments? What if powerful chemicals were used by people with shaky hands? I actually pictured myself walking out of there, too.

When I got there, I was pleasantly surprised. Clean. New. Decorative fountains in the waiting area. And, of course, the mood music. (That's not really the ocean, is it?) So, I signed in and picked up a brochure of treatments. After visiting with the receptionist, (not Spanish) I chose the least chemically abrasive one. (I still owed them $!) The receptionist turned into the facial girl, and shortly, I was called back.

She led me to a small darkish room with a white sheeted bed and pillow, next to a corner table covered with lots of bottles and jars. I laid down and she proceeded to wrap my hair in a towel. (Great. So much for the hair do!) I noticed the mood music volume went up and the lights dimmed. Then, after positioning a big bright light over my face, she went over the form I had filled out. We talked about different ailments their services could help with. She even had a solution for arthritis that by dipping your feet in water with sea salt, it could vacuum out toxins. . . I have sea salt in my kitchen cupboard and imagined giving myself the little treatment for free - until she told me you are hooked up to some kind of machine. (I'll put that treatment on the end of my bucket list for now.) Then she talked about the differences in facials they offered. That was helpful. Already, I'm putting the pieces together for maybe a next time.

As she talked, she was very gentle and it did feel great. . . until she got to the part about snake serum. "Wha?" (my eyes popped open!) "Oh no. I probably wouldn't be interested! Thanks, anyway", I said, trying to look relaxed, since I know she'd gone to a lot of trouble with the mood music thing, and the lighting. It was hard to keep my eyes closed after that. She kept rubbing, though, and explained that it really worked. She brushed on a mask and, like a mother, putting her baby down for a nap, walked softly to the door, saying she'd be back in 10 minutes.

No, I wasn't ready for a nap. Thanks to the thought of her serum remedy, I probably wouldn't be tired for days! I tried to listen for the ending of the ocean piece playing.(Did you know that guy can play forever without a break?) When she finally came back, she was surprised to find me awake. (Whatever!) She sat back down and adjusted the bright light once again. More fragrant creams and rubbing made my eyes close. Then she said, "Now, look up." She had a Q tip and was patting it under my eyes and along the outside of my lips. Everything felt so good. It smelled great, too.

After 45 minutes, the facial was over. I sat up slowly and grabbed my purse. I thanked her for her time and explanations of things. I smiled brightly as she opened the door. Then, before I floated out, she said, "I did put put some of the snake serum around your eyes and lips" . . . I almost collapsed! (Lucky for both of us I was on my way out!) I wished her a good day, trying NOT to lick my lips, and stopped to admire myself in every mirror to the door. My hair was going to be fine and I did have a glowing face. I even thought about never wearing make up again. I walked out to the car, stopping to admire my reflection in the hot window. Yep, still glowing! I jumped in the drivers seat and took another close up look in the rear view mirror. Beautiful. And suddenly my eyes crossed, my nose scrunched up and I heard this sound coming from my mouth . . ."ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss!"

"Go Get Your Bucket"

When Julianne was preschool age, we lived on Juniper Street in Mesa. She had many little friends across the neighborhood. Life was simple and sweet. Down the street, about 6 houses, lived a mom (Melinda Whisenant) who ran a preschool. Her background was elementary education and she had boys herself that were Julianne's age. We were excited when Julianne reached age 4, since we had heard great things about the preschool.

I still remember some of the little clothes she wore: A bright colored tiered skirt, with a top to match, Sears Tough Skin jeans with the little girly applique on the pockets (perfect for little skinny legged girls and boys - and they never wore out), pink keds/like shoes from Marshall's (Daddy's store) . .
Melinda made big buckets out of old plastic 2/3 gallon ice cream containers for each of the kids to carry projects back and forth. The bucket was bigger than she was, and "JULIANNE" was spelled out in big 3" letters across the front.

One morning, she got up and, as usual, was ready to go too early. She loved preschool and being ready early was no surprise. I was busy with Carianne and getting Randy off, I'm sure. All morning, she was right there by me saying, "Is it time yet?" every few minutes. The answer was always, "Not yet". Finally, I must have felt her eagerness more, and instead of saying, "Not yet", I said, "Go get your bucket", thinking it would pacify her and take her mind off the wait.

I don't know how many minutes went by, but I suddenly realized she was not right there and I hadn't heard her little voice for too long. I missed it. I began looking everywhere. Bedrooms, bathrooms, backyard. She had disappeared. I was frantic. Where could she be? I gathered up Carianne and we rushed up the street to Melinda's. I softly patted the back door, the "kid's entry door". I didn't want to knock too loud, because it was still early and and I didn't want to disturb their family's early morning routine. The door opened slowly and there stood an unready Melinda. When she saw me, she stepped back and we both looked at a little girl, sitting quietly and patiently, all by herself in her special spot. She had a bucket that read "JULIANNE" on the floor in front of her. I'll never forget the look on her face. Pure contentment.

She was not scared and she honestly was ready for school to start. When I said "Get your bucket", to her earlier, to her that meant, "OK, it's time". I had never let her walk by herself without me watching, but that morning, she took control. It scared me to imagine her walking down the street all by herself. But she knew exactly where she was going. She had no idea how early she was and probably would have sat there patiently for hours. She was just ready, and knew her special place.

I guess those traits were signs of her personality as she grew, too. She hasn't been afraid to trust. She has liked knowing where she belongs. She loves people and her family. That's where she fits in the most. She is in control. She is grown now and has children of her own. . . surprisingly with the same sweet traits.

I still have the bucket. We filled it with crayons from then until now. It's a treasured piece of family history.

I Love You, Julianne!
Happy Birthday!
Mom

Packing

This is a season of much packing in the lives of my loved ones and friends.

Julianne and Brenden will take a leap of faith from their comfortable Lincoln, NE (after 7 years there) for a home in Kearney. Leaving loads of friends and memories behind. They have been packing for weeks and this weekend, June 25, will be their "trek" to a new beginning in Kearney. When they moved to Lincoln, Grandma and Grandpa Buehner followed them out in Grandpa's horse trailer, packed to the brim. It was just the two of them then, now there are 4. Ward members will rally around them to send them off with sadness and new ward members will be there waiting to greet them with anxiousness.

This is also the same week end that Jeff and Vita will be moving from their comfortable apartment in Tempe. They were married over a year ago and this was their first home. (Don't you always remember your first home?) They also leave behind many memories and wonderful friendships. The ward put them in perfect callings to serve children that needed them the most. That made the moving decision harder to make - those children. But they felt the time was right, so Mesa will be their new home. They also have been packing for weeks for their new beginning there. They already have friends that live close by. That will make the transition easier. . . And thank goodness for Grandpa Buehner's trailer.

Last week was a hard week for Mike and Eloise. The fires in Sierra Vista made the evacuation from their home mandatory. Packing up only precious photos, computers, documents, etc. in a matter of minutes, they hurried off to stay with family close by. Now they can only wait and pray for hopeful news about their home being saved. I shutter to think of the frantic packing that must have taken place there. And I pray for their safety as well as their sweet home.

I visit teach a girl, younger than Carianne. She has a loving husband and three beautiful children. Their oldest, Cloe is 10 and she has a disease that will eventually take her young life. When I imagine the many surgeries and hospitals across the country that have cared for her, it overwhelms me. Their home is filled with a special bed and lots of hook ups for IVs. This last week was the second time since March that their home has flooded. Being renters, they were put in a hotel for a week until the problem could be repaired. Twice. Each time the special equipment took them hours to pack and unpack. They are frantically trying to find another home in the ward as they pack at the same time.

I am filled with emotion as I think of each of the packing that must be taking place in all these beautiful homes. Some packing done slowly and some in a hurry. But either way, each done thoughtfully, with sweet reflection, and hope for a bright future. Hope - the key word. "There is hope smiling brightly before us . . ." It's not just hope, it's smiling brightly. Because we know we have a Father in Heaven who won't leave us if we walk by faith. So I imagine your boxes filled to the brims with valuables, and unwavering faith placed at the very top. "Lead Thou my feet. I do not ask to see the distant scene. One step enough for me."

Who is She?

Jeff is a good guy. He quietly goes around with a big heart, thinking of others and making them smile. But he is a humble guy, too. In fact, he almost didn't get his Eagle scout award because he didn't want to stand in front of a crowd of people. He is a behind the scenes guy that makes things happen, instead of making sure you know he made it happen.

A couple of years ago, his life was routine. School, work, church assignments, friends, still living at home. We watched him come and go. He seemed content and happy, so we just patted him on the back and made sure we had enough chips and ice cream. One Sunday dinner, however, we gathered without him as he was involved in "break the fast" at his ward. The conversation became silent as someone said, "Well, you might like to know that Jeff has a girl friend". . . We all put our forks down in anticipation of hearing the next tidbits of good news.

Yes, he had been spotted at a party of mutual friends. Her name was Vita and "they seemed like good match." It wasn't long after that, that we ran into his Bishop's wife at a funeral. She went on and on about how cute Vita and Jeff were together and was so surprised to learn we hadn't even met her yet. I guess they'd been an item for a while. Now we were really curious. Who was this Vita girl? Eventually, Vita became a household name. But we still hadn't seen her. By summer, there was a lot of texting going on. Was she a dream? Then one day, in the middle of a hot afternoon, the front door opened and in walked Jeff. Behind him was a beautiful girl that he introduced as Vita. She held out her hand to shake mine, a gesture that seemed natural for her from her mission days. I already knew Jeff was smitten, which made me more excited to finally meet her. Now life could go on. They were married the next March.

It's been fun having her in the family. And everyone was right. They do make a perfect pair! Vita has many wonderful qualities, but one of the best things about her is, she knows Jeff. She can make him talk - no more surprises. That's why marriage is good. If you find the right one, they will bring out potential in you, you never would have known. I'm so glad Vita found Jeff. I know he knew she would bring out the best in him.


Happy Birthmonth, Vita!

Miracles

We purchased 2 citrus trees from Costco about 6 years ago. (Growing up in a neighborhood scattered with citrus trees, I longed to pick my own again.) I was so excited! . . . until Randy informed me they were dwarf trees. Boo! Disappointed is the key word here.

They were still pretty and green - just midgets. We built little planters around them though, to hold in needed water. The wind blew their weakling branches and leaves. If you listened real close, you could almost hear them rustling. They did love the sun. And a dry leaf was never to be found.

They were planted where our old, outgrown trampoline used to stand - in our back yard's prime space. Had we known we'd only be looking at 2 small bush/like plants, we might have left the tramp in. (We could have used the exercise!) And heaven knows we could have used some shade around here, but no.
So every day we were reminded of their "almost but not quite" state. After all, in Arizona, green is good.

Last December, a wondrous miracle happened. We noticed there were big yellow fruit clusters growing up and down the branches of one of the trees. Grapefruit! We couldn't believe our eyes. We left it hanging for the whole season, just to make sure those dwarfs drank in every last bit of nourishment. We took pictures in every angle, developed into 8 x 10 glossies to show our unbelieving friends.

This morning was a landmark day. I refrigerated one over night and crossed my shaking fingers as I cut it open for a taste. No words can describe the heavenly deliciousness! The beautiful pink color was also a bonus.

I have since looked upon the trees with admiration, recalling their previously small size and probable nonperformance. Because of the illegible tags hanging around their twigs when we purchased them, I did not see their majestic potential coming. But there they stand. Strong, scrawny trunks that proudly lift their branches to nearly 8 feet high.

Do miracles happen? Oh, yes!

I will be anxiously awaiting next years crop from the other orange tree. (We'll let it off the hook this year, since I'm sure it is purposely waiting for its own private performance.) If it grows avocados, I'll probably die!

A Keeper

When Gregg got home from his mission, it quickly became apparent there was a girl in his life that took up valuable space in his heart. I knew more of her than I actually knew her - meeting her only once on prom night a couple of years before. Her name was Rachael and she had been a long time "friend" of his. I liked her from the beginning. Any time someone favors your child, they get my vote. It shows they have good taste! And now, watching more than a friendship unfold, I could only be happy for them.
Rachael was here the night Gregg got home from his mission. She had rushed home from BYU for the Christmas break. While Gregg was adjusting to reality, Rachael was proving her priorities - the first of many to come:

When April conference came along, it was easy to include Rachael in the group. Aunt Janice treated us royally.

When we all drove to Nebraska for Emmie's blessing, easily there was a seat for Rachael. While Gregg took the wheel into the night for his shift of driving, Rachael sat in the passenger seat and talked and to him endlessly to keep him awake.

Macks Inn that year was fun, because we all got to know Rachael. At the cabin one evening, we talked about the fun times, and how it was sad to leave but we'd be all be back. Then we realized Rachael really wasn't officially Gregg's. Grandma Buehner said, "Well, she'll be back, won't she?" We crossed our fingers!

At one point I cornered Gregg (something mothers are known for - "cornering") and ask if he thought he could find anyone better than Rachael. His response was negative.

When she transferred to ASU to finish her schooling, I knew she was a keeper.

Though these few memories are from my perspective, Gregg and Rachael have their own continuous story to tell. Being married now for two years, it is a sweet story with lots of fun chapters to come!

Wednesday is Rachael's birthday. I am thankful for her everyday!

Carianne

I love April. Springtime, new beginnings, General Conference, Easter, the pageant, beautiful weather. . .Birthdays!

Yes, Carianne was born in this beautiful month! Right on Easter weekend, putting me in the hospital over Easter Sunday that year. Another girl! (Growing up with 3 brothers, I thought I was destined to be a mother of only boys.) How did that happen?!
I always buy the little candy beaded jelly beans at Sees at her birthday time. (Randy brought them to celebrate her birthday at the hospital.) I still eat those beans with fond memories! The hospital nurses also led me to a new lotion . . . Keri lotion. How appropriate! Caianne even had a lotion named after her! I never use it that I don't think of her.

When Carianne was 2 years old, we had Jeff. Our little house on Juniper St. in Mesa had a front room with a big window. We had a stuffed, soft blue, rocking chair (a treasure from my memories with my Grandma Ruth) that fit perfectly in there. The heavenly seat came in handy, especially in the middle of the night, when he'd wake up hungry. Quietly I'd bundle him up and tip toe in the dark, to the cozy chair. Every night, however, just as we settled in, I heard faint little footsteps. But mostly it was the sound of her soft blanket dragging lightly beside her as she floated down the hall. Sucking her thumb on one hand, carrying the blanket next to her ear with the other, and her hair a beautiful mess, she'd lay her little head on my lap and close her eyes. I could never resist rubbing her sweet head. Then, I'd lift her up on my lap with Jeff, holding them both close and rock them back to peaceful slumber in the quiet moonlight. It was such a peaceful and loving time. If I could stop the clock, I'd go back to those nights.
Carianne is a blessing. Full of life and light.

I LOVE you dearly, Carianne.
Happy Birthday!
Mom

Another Lesson from Mom

It is still March - for one more day. Since March 9 is Mom's birthday, I decided to write about another lesson I learned from her, even still at this stage of my life.

I remember when Dad was in the hospital after having his touch and go quadruple bi pass surgery. I was with Mom in the elevator, going to the fourth floor to visit him. We pushed the #4 button and out of the blue, I heard her calm voice say, "Let's have a prayer."
I can count and I know how fast an elevator can get you where you want to go. But it was fruitless for me to remind her that we might not have time for a prayer. She had already bowed her head and begun praying, so I bowed my head and listened as she expressed love, gratitude, and wishes for the day. It was a sweet prayer that blanketed us with strength and faith. Just as she finished, sure enough, the bell sounded and the door opened. There we stood. To others, we might have looked like any other elevator riders. But we were different when we stepped out than when we stepped in.
How long does it take an elevator to ride up 4 floors? How long does it take to offer a heartfelt prayer of love and faith?
I'll never question it again.

Last week-end was a payday for Jon's family. Jeremy was married to Carly in the San Diego temple. It was a beautiful day and I'm SO glad we all were able to go. Jim and Richelle took Mom and Dad. Randy and I took Carianne, Kate and Vita. It was a Heavenly experience. We soaked in the day and after the luncheon, we all made time to go through the Mormon Battalion museum before we journeyed home.
We loaded up our van and were rolling through the parking lot when we passed Jim's truck. They were loading up, too. I noticed Mom walking towards our car, so Randy rolled down the window as he came to a stop beside her. She leaned in, and with Jim and Richelle behind her, she said, "Let's have a prayer together." She stood close so we could all hear her and with one hand folded and the other gripping the open window, she offer a prayer of gratitude, love and a plea for our safety during the drive.

Again, right out of the blue, right in the middle of a busy parking lot. That was of no concern to her. Can you feel Heaven in a parking lot? Ask me. Thanks to Mom I felt it there that day. When you need to pray, you need to pray.

She is still teaching me all that I must do . . .

Thank-you, Mom. I Love you.

March 14

Yep. Today is Jeff's birthday. Right during spring break, and now right during wedding anniversary season, including his own! It's a busy time, but a beautiful time.

I have been thinking of stories of Jeff. I could go on and on, but I'll spread them out over time.

When Jeff was in kindergarten, we had just moved into this house. If you looked out the kitchen window in those days, you could actually see Sureno elementary. (Well, someone with good eyes could see the school!) I was especially good at seeing the yellow school bus pull up in front. You couldn't miss that. I know about that big yellow bus, because everyday I would watch the clock for 12:00 (noon) and then stand at the window knowing that Jeff was on it and he would be home any minute. Most days I would walk down to the stop sign and walk with him back to the house. He was (and is) a beautiful kid.

One afternoon, while I stood at the bus stop, there was a rustling of parents calling for my attention. We met across the street and it was there I learned an experience about the previous day's delivery of kindergarten kids. (I don't remember why I wasn't at the stop, but it was a day that I missed, never to miss again.)

The neighbors frantically told me in all of their versions together. It seems that the driver the day before, was a substitute. He got to our corner and let out all of the kids. There was such a cluster of them, he figured they all lived north. He was too unfamiliar to notice that Jeff lived south. The door closed and he hit the gas pedal, thinking he was clear. But there was Jeff going south, right in front of the bus. He wasn't tall enough to see, and besides, the driver wasn't looking for more kids. He thought they all lived north.

I'm sure the cluster of neighbors saved Jeff's life that day. They could see a possible tragedy beginning to happen. They went into frantic mode and screamed and yelled and waved to get the drivers attention. Luckily he stopped quick, just in time to see a little boy safely head south.

My heart still pounds when I think of what could have happened. I am so thankful for good neighbors who watch out for each other.

And I am thankful for Jeff.

I have a feeling Heavenly Father was watching out for him that day, too.

Happy Birthday, Jeff!
I Love You
Mom

Kate

It was simply a privilege to watch little 2 year old Kate these last 6 weeks. Carianne substitute taught for the same teacher who took her place when she gave up teaching to have Kate. Now the teacher needed a sub for her 6 weeks maternity leave. Enter: a loving, overjoyed, and delighted Grandma and Grandpa! Every morning (except on Wednesdays, when she went to her cousins house) Carianne would bring her by at 7:00 AM or so. She would say, "I came back!" Then the fun would begin. Play time took on a whole new meaning. Think about it. PLAY TIME. What a wonderful way to spend your life. And she shared it with us! Kate gets A+'s in all her playtime subjects: A+ - One Step Ahead After the first couple of story days at the library, I learned that I didn't need to panic when the door opened and everyone exited at the same time . . . except Kate, who skipped out far ahead of the rest. My heart would race! I'd be so relieved when I'd see her at the computers, where she looked to be extremely focused, typing something very important, I'm sure. It was as if she had a sign across her forehead that read "I'm gifted". A+ - Mechanically Inclined Big train parks and little train parks, a train is a TRAIN! She can't ride them enough. We were off to ride the Desert Breeze train on a Friday and learned it was broken and had to be repaired. That is just plain hard for a little girl to understand. The "train doctor" seemed to be my best answer to her sadness. Over and over again, "Where's the train?" "At the train doctor, getting fixed." "Fixed?" "Yep, the train doctor is going to fix that little train." "Where's the train?" "At the train doctor, getting fixed up." "Where's the boy?" (the kid who greeted all the kids and led them in a rousing "All aboard!") She doesn't miss anything. Then, after a week, we went back to the train park to ride the repaired train. We got there just in time to see the repairman (the train Dr.) give the train a few new tightenings and a trial run. Kate watched for 20 minutes until he finally latched the door back onto the engine so the train would be complete again. She didn't have to worry any more. She was overjoyed! A+ Independence The first couple of weeks (before she knew I couldn't keep from laughing) she would say in a sad voice, "I'm going home to find my Mommy, all ba ba ba ma ma ma ma self!" A+ Creative I was surprised when she would slide down the spiral / tunnel slippery slide over and over . . .backwards! That's right, head first! Then she would run all the way to the front of the jungle gym maze - up, down and through, until she got to the top of the slide again. Laying down, head first like super girl, she'd come down again and again. Every time her hair would get bigger and bigger from the static electricity inside. After a while, people would gather to wait for her static hair, head first landings. A+ Miss Congeniality The carousel is a perfect place to gather friends. Kate would be so excited to choose just the right horse, giraffe, or rooster. She could hardly sit still and hold on at the same time. As we rode around and around, it was her duty to wave to everyone she saw. The same people again and again. As she smiled and waved so genuinely, the response from by passers got bigger, also. They would watch for the cute little girl that LOVED the carousel . . . and them! A+ Map Quest As we'd ride along, it became a game to look for familiar destinations. I'd say,"Tell me when you see it!" She would look hard and sure enough, almost pop out of her seat when she knew we were there. Then I'd hear her say, "Tell me when you see it!" As if I'd be so surprised to finally find the place. A+ Families are Forever We were in Gilbert one morning with Grandma and Grandpa B. We noticed that it got quiet so we started half looking for Kate. As we walked into the patio room, Kate came running from the corner by the ice cream machine. With excitement in her little voice, she said, "WHERE IS EVERYBODY?!" For a little girl that frequents that corner for ice cream, she knew that it just wasn't the same without Family sitting around like usual. That makes Grandpa Buehner proud. The stories go on and on. . . And the grades only get more perfect! Did I mention it was a complete joy to watch Kate? Thank you for sharing her, dear Carianne and Rusty! (Brought to you in part by the Randy and Jody Clawson Grandchildren Watch Foundation.)

Not a One

My favorite Valentine's story:



Not a One!
by: Dale Galloway


Little Chad was a shy, quiet young man. One day he came home and told his mother that he'd like to make a valentine for everyone in his class. Her heart sank. She thought, "I wish he wouldn't do that!" because she had watched the children when they walked home from school. Her Chad was always behind them. They laughed and hung on to each other and talked to each other. But Chad was never included. Nevertheless, she decided she would go along with her son. So she purchased the paper and glue and crayons. For three weeks, night after night, Chad painstakingly made 35 valentines.

Valentine's Day dawned, and Chad was beside himself with excitement. He carefully stacked them up, put them in a bag, and bolted out the door. His mother decided to bake him his favorite cookies and serve them nice and warm with a cool glass of milk when he came home from school. She just knew he would be disappointed and maybe that would ease the pain a little. It hurt her to think that he wouldn't get many valentines - maybe none at all.

That afternoon she had the cookies and milk on the table. When she heard the children outside, she looked out the window. Sure enough, there they came, laughing and having the best time. And, as always, there was Chad in the rear. He walked a little faster than usual. She fully expected him to burst into tears as soon as he got inside. His arms were empty, she noticed, and when the door opened she choked back the tears.

"Mommy has some cookies and milk for you," she said.

But he hardly heard her words. He just marched right on by, his face aglow, and all he could say was: "Not a one. Not a one."

Her heart sank.

And then he added, "I didn't forget a one, not a single one!"


It just makes me think . . .

Cherry Dream Squares

Back in the early 80's, we were settling into a new home at 329 E. Juniper St. in Mesa. We hadn't been married that long. (I was either expecting Julianne or she was a baby.) I was just getting to know the ward and the people in it - kind of a new experience, being "grown-up" now, trying to live like you knew what to do!
But my new visiting teachers came by one day, as planned. It was a nice visit. They were young and new, too, and anxious to know me. As we visited in the front room next to the window, one of them handed me a plate of beautiful cherry bars. Her name was Marsha Payne. The bars were delicious! I was sure to ask her for the recipe on their next visit.
It took a minute to remember, but luckily it came to her. It was from a Woman's Day magazine from a couple of weeks before.
The minute I waved them off at the front door, I headed out the back. Car keys and purse in hand (Julianne too, I'm sure, if she was born!). I had to find that recipe! I was relieved to find of, in the exact same issue she told me. There it was, "Cherry Dream Squares".
I had no idea then, how priceless this recipe would become. I'm sure I have made it a hundred times since then. I copy the recipe again and again when the card gets ratty. Or I give it out gladly, just like Marsha did for me. I don't ever make them, that I don't think of Marsha, my first visiting teacher, that taught me how to share something really yummy.
It has become a part of me, so here it is for you. In this Valentine's Day Season, where red and cherries belong:

With Love

Cherry Dream Squares

1 pkg. white cake mix
1 1/4 cups rolled oats *
1/2 c margarine / butter (room temp.) *
1 egg
21 oz. can cherry pie filling
1/2 c chopped nuts
1/4 firmly packed brown sugar

* divided - read below

Heat oven to 350o. Grease 13 x 9 pan. In large bowl, combine cake mix, 6 TB butter*, and 1 cup rolled oats*. Mix with a fork until crumbly.
(Reserve 1 cup "crumbly" for topping.)
To remaining crumbs, still in bowl, add 1 egg. Mix until well blended. Press into prepared pan.
Pour cherry pie filling over pressed crust; spread to cover.
To reserved crumbs, in large bowl (I usually use the same bowl again), add remaining 1/4 cup rolled oats, 2 TB butter, nuts, and brown sugar. Beat until thoroughly mixed (or by hand).
Sprinkle over cherry mixture. Bake at 350 for 30 - 40 minutes, or until golden brown. Cool completely. If desired, serve with whipped or vanilla ice cream.

If You Give Your Child Piano Lessons

If you give your child piano lessons
He's going to want to play music
With rhythms.
When you compliment him,
He'll want to play more.
When he's finished, he'll smile.
Then he'll remember
How his Grandpa plays the ukulele,
And how his family
Likes to sing in the car.
And he'll feel good inside.

He'll become proud of his hard work
And confident to share his talent
At recitals or on talent day at school.
His Mom will have
Lots of pictures to show.

When he gets older,
Maybe he'll join the orchestra
And play the violin, viola,
Cello, or string bass.
Whenever he can . . . or even for a living!
Maybe he'll join the steel drum band,
Play the clarinet, the french horn,
Or play duets with his sister (or his wife).
Maybe taking dancing lessons,
Singing with a choir,
Or being a conductor would sound fun.
He might even collect vinyl records.

No matter what,
Music will make him happy -
Whether he hears, dances,
Sings,or plays.

If you give your child piano lessons
It will give him all kinds of
Happy memories.
Then when he grows up
And has children of his own,
He's going to want to give them . . .
Piano lessons!

Christmas 2010

The clan...

The cutest grand kids...