The Project, Part I

S has a World Geography project that is due October 23rd. When he brought the assignment home a few weeks ago I wanted to make sure that he knew it is HIS project. I'm trying to teach the kid some responsibility and accountability. No mommy staying up late the night before it's due, frantically trying to finish the project. He had an idea of what he wanted, and I've given him some suggestions, but he drew out the plan for it and collected a few pebbles from our yard for the finishing touches when it's time for that. I suggested to J that he could help him form the mountains out of plaster and then S could take over from there. I should've known better.




J making the wire forms for the paper mache


S providing tape for J, who is still making the wire forms for the paper mache


S working the paper mache (which is slimy and yucky and gross-feeling and yet oddly satisfying too)


S managing the paper mache, but --

J is putting it on the forms. Then, since the newspaper strips were getting a little too soggy, J (old man that he is) was getting a backache, and I was tired of hearing S freak out every time the strips broke from being too soggy and J complain of his old, aching back, I stepped in and handed the strips to S. J hovered, patching and adjusting until...

Looks good, doesn't it? J purposely put an arrete on the right that he'd like to spend some time on. When it dries, J wants to spray paint it, but I keep reminding him that, "It is Sam's project, and it has to look like a 3rd Grader did it, not the 3rd Grader's dad." We'll see if the 3rd Grader's dad can restrain himself.

Birthday Eve

Tomorrow my hubby turns 35. Why does 35 sound so much closer to 40 than 34 does? I've been teasing him relentlessly because it's fun and aging doesn't bother him. I think he's starting a mid-life crisis involving climbing really big mountains and buying crampons. Oh well, at least it's not a fast car or a leggy blond.

The cookies are made ("35" and assorted pirate shapes -- I was swayed by the cool treasure chest-shaped tin they came in at Michael's for 75% off), the gift has been purchased. I've dutifully instructed all who ask what he wants for his birthday to direct them to REI gift certificates. I've decided that, instead of recycling all the AARP mail that comes to me because of my name, I will save them and give them to J.

All is in readiness. Tomorrow I will wake up next to "a crotchety old man!"

The Neglectful Gardener, a Pastoral Novel, by E

'Twas early Spring when the young lad and his fair mother were out in the garden. The boy had in his eager hand a packet of seeds. With optimism shining in both their eyes, mother and son carefully selected a choice spot for, what they hoped would become, a bed for their dinner greens. With tender care throughout the summer months that followed, the seeds, sown in a row were weeded and watered. Bright eyes searched the ground for any sign of verdant life. And then, to their surprise and delight, one day appeared the lettuce. "Dear Husbandman," inquired the Lady, "wouldst thou like to partake of the fresh green lettuce in our garden for thy evening repast?" "No, good woman," came the reply, "Not tonight." And so the months wore on, leaving the garden to fend for itself as a trip to the desert and then a trip to the shore took the faithful gardeners away from their home. And when they returned from their journeyings, alas! A slothful spirit had overtaken all of the household. Weeds began to creep into the bed of greens and the lettuce went unpicked...

This is what happens to lettuce if you don't pick it:

Fascinating. I'm wondering if the lettuce seeds are in the top knobby things. Maybe next year we will plant a whole flowerbed full of lettuce trees.

I'm not much of a gardener, although one day I'd like to be. The big garden in our backyard has been a challenge since we moved in, but faithfully, we planted peppers, tomatoes, cucumbers, and corn. We kept up on the weeding pretty well until we left for Gallup in July. When we returned, we repented of our sloth and cleared the weeds out again until we left for California in August. When we got home, it was a hopeless cause. The soil in our back garden has no nutrients, so we've fertilized and thrown all our kitchen scraps out there in an effort to feed the soil. I'm not sure it's working, but we are growing random tomato plants all over. It's pretty funny.

As for flowers, well, I'm not too big on flowers. They look nice, but I'd rather use the flower beds for something functional -- like lettuce trees or broccoli
,

zucchini, or pumpkins. I had great plans for peas climbing up the porch railing, but the snails squelched that idea. The problem with planting things in the front flowerbed is that we're not out there too much in the summer and plants get neglected. Lettuce tree, anyone?

Playing Catch Up

I am sitting on my couch, deliriously exhausted, but having to be awake to manage the irrigation water for the next 1 1/2 hours, so this post may not be very coherent. Just to warn you.

Since my penultimate post much has happened. According to my camera, we have walked the Provo River Parkway Trail to Bridal Veil Falls (along with everyone else in Utah County, it seemed that day), hiked to Stewart Falls on the back of Mt. Timpanogos, hiked the "Y", and meandered around Cascade Springs. Pictures are forthcoming, although if you are not my mom, you probably don't care too much.

O, H, and I have lunched on Provo Temple grounds, gone to the library, and generally enjoyed each other's company while S has been in school.

Here is a picture that I really like for some reason:

H's fat little cheeks, the big broccoli tree -- I don't know. It just makes me giggle.

J has been in and out of town, taken days off and worked overtime -- you know, the usual.

I just finished reading "Quicksand and Cactus" by Juanita Brooks. It's a memoir of her life in Bunkerville and Southern Utah during what historians call, "The Middle Years" of Utah history.
"The Middle Years" refers to the time after the great Mormon Migration happened, but before "The Outside" came into Utah. Very interesting read.

Sleepy lady off to check the water...

Act Now!

I know it's been a while since I've posted, but today it is of utmost importance that you go immediately to threadless.com and buy yourself a shirt. Every shirt is on sale today, even the usually $25 ones. All shirts are just $9!!! You must do it now! Who doesn't want to own "The Communist Party" or "Biblical Disaster"? Go! Go now! Why are you still reading my blog? Go now! Go to threadless!

First Day of 3rd Grade

We met his teacher last Thursday. We bought all items on the school supplies list on Friday. I washed his navy shorts on Saturday. We discussed lunch choices before I hit the grocery store on Monday night. Early to bed on Tuesday. Today was the big day. My little S started 3rd Grade. He has been so excited for days. Can you tell?


So we had breakfast, packed his lunch, made sure both shoes were on his feet, piled in the van, and headed off to Reagan Academy. We arrived in plenty of time and, hand in hand, walked joyfully across the parking lot into the school. Then -- the fear struck. We found his classroom and his desk. And then -- the trembly lower lip. We brought the requested school supplies to the table at the front of the classroom. And his eyes were huge. Then came the thing every parent loves to hear, over the intercom, "Mrs. Judd, will you please come to the office? Mrs. Judd." So, in his hour of need I abandoned S and ran to the front office already knowing what I will find there. O -- having escaped my mom and the van, run across the parking lot, into the school looking for me (after I told him to stay with Grandma) -- was there with the same, "I'm gonna cry and I want mama now" look on his face that was present on his big brother's. So with O in tow, with a longing look at the bathroom where my bladder was hoping my feet would go, I returned to S's classroom. He was rooted to the very spot I left him, only just on the verge of hysterical tears. Long story short -- after a sincere avowal of my love and pride for him, some coaxing, a promise of a surprise in his lunch, and one last hug and kiss, I told him, "I really have to pee and then I'm going to go home," (I am one classy mom) "You be so brave and I will see you after school."
I took a picture of him at school with his "best smile" plastered on top of his tearful, fearful face.

I prayed all day in my heart for him, hoping that he remembered the Father's Blessing J gave him yesterday. If he had a bad experience today, school would be a horrendous fight every day for the rest of the year.

Fingers crossed and his tragic little face swimming before my vision, I still managed to have a reasonably good time while he was in school all day. When I picked him up, I craned my neck to see what state he was in. HALLELUJAH!!! He had a fantastic day and talked my ear off all the way home. Thank you, Heavenly Father! I think I'm going to like 3rd Grade.

(For those of you who are wondering why this was such an ordeal for S and his mom, S skipped 2nd Grade this year. All of his friends from last year are happily together in 2nd Grade, while he is in 3rd Grade, poor little stumpy halfie, 3 inches or more shorter than most of the kids in his class. Now you see why I was anxious?)

Sunday Practice

On Sunday after Church we spent a nice lazy afternoon watching our kids practice casting their fishing poles. We started in the front yard and stayed there for quite awhile watching O while sitting in our $10 fold-out lawn chairs. J thought it would be good for some of our neighbors to witness the Judds being (as he put it), "so white trash." (Yeah, that's yellow trash to you, mister!) The only thing missing was a 6-pack of beer. Alas, that will always be missing from our plastic fish casting adventures!

O got the hang of it very quickly and was soon casting 70 feet or more. Very impressive.


H is our little "monkey see, monkey do"

I love O's serious expression and complicated little dance.

H's little stance lately with his hands on his hips always makes me smile.

We finally moved to the backyard and spent the rest of the afternoon catching H. He just chased around the plastic fish at the end of the poles, laughing hysterically.

And this is what he finally did to his pole.