Orson Scott Card wrote a profound article in the Mormon Times section of the Deseret News this week about singles and dating. If you know a young single...man or woman they need to read this.


HAPPY VALENTINES DAY

http://www.mormontimes.com/mormon_voices/orson_scott_card/?id=6249

I LAUGHED, I CRIED

We were a snug little group of mother and children sitting on the floor watching the Carol Burnett Show. My oldest was eleven and the three-year-old sat on my lap. It was unusual for me to be watching television. There never seemed to be time for such luxuries because I always had so many "important" things to do. I’m not sure what enticed me to sit there with my little ones that evening but I would soon see myself in their eyes and learn that I should laugh more.

Carol Burnett was doing her spoof of "Gone With the Wind". The scene took place on the grand staircase of Tara. Carol Burnett was at her best doing an over the top imitation of Scarlet O’Hara. She was carrying on and on about the need for a beautiful dress so she could entice Rhett Butler to give her money in order to save her southern mansion. She suddenly spied the green velvet curtains hanging above the stairway and snatched them down (creating a cloud of dust) and ran up the stairs to fashion a magnificent gown.

As we watched, Scarlet came prancing down the stairs in her new dress. The curtain, with the rod still attached, was draped over her shoulders and sashed at the waist with the gold tieback cord. It was very funny. I have seen it since and it still gives me a big chuckle. I laughed so hysterically my little guy fell off my lap. It was a classic rolling on the floor laugh. I couldn’t stop—my entire body was convulsing with glee.

The kids were staring in wide-eyed amazement at me not Carol Burnett. I determined later that they knew nothing about Gone With the Wind. And for sure they had never seen anything like what was happening to their mother. Maybe they thought I was losing it. I definitely didn’t laugh much. I was serious and busy and sober and sometimes mad but a belly laugh—that wasn’t me. It made me sad and I tried to laugh more after that but never did really get good at it.

Motherhood for me was very serious business. Too serious

Another time my little family would see me cry and it would also surprise them.

When Mike and I married he told me to never ask him what he wanted for dinner and he would try to eat whatever I cooked (except onions). Fixing a meal that would please everyone at my dinner table was an enormous challenge. I don’t remember it being such a problem when I was growing up. One of my brothers lived on peanut butter and jelly but most of us would eat whatever my mother put before us.

I know some of my dinners were better than others but I consistently cooked something and tried to make our suppers tasty and nutritious. On this occasion we all sat down together and had a blessing. The forks were lifted, the complaining began and they all refused to eat (I don’t recall the menu)—even my husband told me it might be best not to fix "it" again (trying to be tactful). I am usually good at being tough and stoic but it must have been a bad day. I left in tears.

I went to my bedroom and locked the door. I stayed there all evening. The kids knocked on the door repeatedly to say they were sorry. They couldn’t understand why I would cry about such a thing. I don’t know why mothers want to be so strong. Are we embarrassed? Are we fearful of appearing weak? Are we afraid no one really cares? For sure, I didn’t cry enough.

The next morning the dishes were done, the kitchen cleaned and the offending food was thrown in the garbage. I guess they all ate something. Never again did I have to endure a dinner bashing session, quite like that one. How does anyone learn empathy if we don’t cry on occasion?

The pressure cooker of home life can make parents tough but I have come to believe that a little laughter and a few tears can go a long way.

THE CHANGING POWER OF THE HOLY GHOST

THE CHANGING POWER
OF THE HOLY GHOST
by Parley P. Pratt

The gift of the Holy Ghost quickens all the intellectual
faculties,
increases, enlarges, expands,
and purifies all the natural
passions and affections,
and adapts them,
by the gift of wisdom,
to their lawful use.
it inspires, develops,
cultivates, and matures all the
fine-toned sympathies, joys,
tastes, kindred feelings, and
affections of our nature.
It inspires virtue, kindness,
goodness, tenderness,
gentleness and charity.
It develops beauty of person,
form and features.
It tends to health, vigor, and
animation, and social feeling.
it invigorates all the
faculties of the physical
and intellectual man.
It strengthens and gives
tone to the nerves.
In short, it is, as it were,
marrow to the bone,
joy to the heart,
light to the eyes,
music to the ears,
and life to the whole being.

HOW TO ACHIEVE CALMNESS

This gave me a good chuckle...hard to find these days.

CALMNESS IN OUR LIVES - I am passing this on to you because it definitely works, and we could all use a little more calmness in our lives. By following simple advice heard on the Dr. Phil show, you too can find inner peace. Dr Phil proclaimed, "The way to achieve inner peace is to finish all the things you have started and have never finished. "So, I looked around my house to see all the things I started and hadn't finished and before leaving the house this morning, I finished a package of Oreos, the remainder of my old Prozac prescription, the rest of the cheesecake, some Doritos, and a box of chocolates. You have no idea how freaking good I feel right now. Maybe you need this too.

MY BANANA BREAD

Maybe everyone has their own banana bread. This is mine. It is moist with lots of banana flavor and quick. Whole wheat flour works well in this recipe. I think the oil makes a moister loaf but the butter adds a nice flavor. Either is nice.

Banana Bread
½ C. Oil or I cube of butter

2 eggs
1 tsp. Soda

1 C. sugar
3 Mashed ripe banana’s
2 C. Flour

½ C Yogurt - pineapple is good
3/4 Tsp. Salt
This makes 2 medium loaves. Beat and bake 350 for 30-40 min. Until solid on top.

Add nuts or chocolate chips if desired

MY BOOK CLUB READING FOR 2009

Three Cups of Tea by Greg Mortenson

Wildwood Dancing by Juliet Marillier

Cold Sassy Tree by Olive Ann Burns

The Other Queen by Philippa Gregory

Left to Tell by Steve Irwin and

Immacule'e Ilibagiza

Street Gang by Michael Davis

The Guernsey Literary and Potatoe Peel Society by Annie Burns

Zookeeper's Wife by Matt Bondurant

GNOCCHI - ITALIAN POTATO DUMPLINGS

A few years ago, when we traveled in Italy, my favorite thing to eat on the street was gnocchi. They are little potato dumplings often served with pasta sauces or pesto. When I came home I tried to make them with no success. My effort produced doughy tough little balls worthy of the garbage disposal. I never tried again. This fall someone brought a gnocchi dish to a party we went to. It was made with commercial gnocchi and frankly they tasted very good. So, I went to purchase some gnocchi, which you can buy in the pasta asile of some grocery stores. They are expensive--about $4.00 for a 12 oz. pkg. The price renewed my interest in trying to make them myself. The internet is awesome for researching cooking problems and after an hour of looking at different recipes I came up with one that has turned out to satisify my gnocchi craving. I used a scale to weigh the potatoes and should have measured the grated potatoes but hopefully you can make them with the following information.

GNOCCHI
The secret of good gnocchi is not boiling the potatoes but baking them. The potatoes should be as dry as possible after cooked. Bake 2 lbs. of potatoes. I used 7 smallish potatoes and baked them 2 or 3 at a time in the microwave (when done they should be soft ready to eat). Let them sit for at least 5 minutes and then pull off the skins and grate with a large grater or put through a ricer. (I actually tried this twice baking them in the oven and I like the microwave better because the skins get heavy and stuck to the potato more when oven baked plus they start to brown a bit inside the skin. Maybe wrapping them in foil would help or just do the microwave thing.) Beat one large or extra large egg and add it to the potatoes with ¼ C. Parmesan cheese and 3/4 cup flour and ½ tsp. salt. Knead the mass together until it starts to cling –1-2 minutes. Cut tennis ball size pieces off the mass to use to make into ¾ inch ropes rolling like play dough snakes with a little more flour as needed. Cut the rope into ¾ inch pieces. Round the ends, a little, quickly with your fingers. Have a duch oven sized pot of salted boiling water ready. When you have a pile from a couple of ropes boil for exactly 2 minutes. The Gnocchi will rise to the top of the boiling water. Remove with a slotted spoon and put into a 2-quart casserole dish. Cook batches until all are done. Toss with the butter sage sauce and ½ C. parmesan cheese or toss with 2 cups marinara sauce mixed with ½ cup whipping cream and sprinkle with parmesan cheese. Bake for 10 to 15 minutes at 350—just until heated through. This serves 4-6 people but the recipe is easily doubled. Hey, while your at it make a lot.

Butter Sage SaucePut ¼ C. butter in small sauce pan with 1 grated garlic clove. Cook until the garlic starts to brown. Add 1 tsp. rubbed sage ¼ tsp. pepper ¼ tsp. salt.

THE RED TULIP PAINTING

THE RED TULIP PAINTING
FINDS AN UNEXPECTED HOME
By Charmaine Anderson, December 2008

Red tulips in winter are heavenly. On a dreary winter day my grandson Michael and his mother Colette came bearing a little bouquet to gladden my weary soul. I put them in a small teal colored vase and enjoyed every glance their way. They were so inviting I couldn’t resist painting them. It wasn’t a great painting but it’s hard to ruin red tulips too much. The small painting sat around my studio for a few months still cheering me. I finally put it into a frame and hung it in my main floor powder room. It looked nice there.

In October my daughter Maren went to Buffalo, New York with her boyfriend to visit his family. When she returned she wanted to send something to his mother and asked me if I had a painting in red she could have to send to her. I gave Maren the painting of the red tulips and she left knowing it would be just the right thank you gift.

The painting then got wrapped in bubble wrap and cardboard, taped up ready to mail, but in Maren’s busy schedule the mailing part never happened. It was fine, she decided, because they were going to Buffalo again for Christmas and she could take the painting with her.

Two weeks before Christmas Maren and the boyfriend parted and the red tulip painting sat in her living room still wrapped for mailing. Shortly after that my husband Mike and I were at her house doing some work in her attic. Maren had sorted through some of her stuff and she had several bags of things for Deseret Industries. When we left I loaded the bags in my car to drop knowing that Maren was so busy that they might not get disposed of very soon. She pointed to the taped box as I was toting the bags to my car and said, “Please take the tulip painting as I will not be needing it now.” I picked it up and tossed it in the back of the car with the DI bags.

We discussed stopping at DI on the way home but were tired and decided that we would leave them in Mike’s car and he could dispose of them after work some evening. The first part of the next week Mike called me on the way to DI wanting to know which of the bags I was saving for Colette to go through. It was a short conversation. On Saturday afternoon I went looking for the tulip painting thinking it would be a good gift to take to my brother’s gift exchange party on Sunday. It was not in the car and then in horror I feared that it had been taken to DI with the bags. My fears were confirmed.

I was not nice. “How could you be so stupid as to drop a taped up box not knowing what was in it? You called about the bags—why didn’t you call about the box ready for mailing?” I stomped and yelled, “I am so mad! How could you have done this?” My youngest was here witnessing it all. He said he had never seen me yell at his dad like that.

Mike got in the car and drove to DI to see if there was anyway that it might possibly still be there. I tried to talk him out of going knowing that it would be useless. While he was gone Maren called and I told her what had happened—still steaming. She chastised me telling me that I needed to apologize, that Dad didn’t mean to do it and if things had been different the painting would already be gone. She was right, of course, and before he returned I was feeling very repentant and sorry for my ugly tantrum. My commitment to be a healer was lost in a minute of bad behavior. When Mike came in the door I tried to apologize but he was still feeling stung and a chilly silence prevailed.

A few days later I backed out of the garage and broke the mirror on his car. After getting a bid to get it fixed he said, “Well, your little accident is going to cost a lot more than that little painting was worth.” But, it wasn’t about the money. Actually, I don’t really know what it was about. It just seemed important to know who had my red tulip painting. A phone call Christmas night would get me my answer.

‘Hi Charmaine, this is Jolene. I want to thank you for a Christmas present you gave me. You don’t know that you gave it to me but you did.”

What a happy surprise to know that my dear friend and neighbor Jolene Allphin had the red tulip painting. I am thrilled that it will hang in her home. Here is Jolene’s part of the story in her own words:
The Christmas TulipsBy Jolene Allphin

I’d heard the ad on the car radio over and over that week before Christmas:

“. . . only 1 hour left to get this beautiful Christmas tulip bouquet from proflowers.com at this price”

“. . . extended only 1 more day - order your Christmas tulip bouquet now to get this special price”

“. . . your last chance to order this beautiful Christmas tulip bouquet from proflowers.com.”

Exactly one week before Christmas, I was on my own crazy deadlines. As I struggled to drive through the heavy traffic to my next shopping destination, images of the beautiful tulips danced in my head. How wonderful it would be to order the bouquet! “Perhaps another year when the Christmas spending money wasn’t quite so tight,” I thought.

I turned the car into the new Deseret Industries parking lot in Layton. I had a few things left to purchase for a Sub-for-Santa I was doing with a couple of my daughters. I had searched in vain for a carpet remnant I could afford for the trailer house my friend lived in. I knew it was a long shot, but was hopeful that the DI might have something.

Upon entering the store, I was directed to the back of the store and then to the outside sales room where bicycles, exercise equipment, strollers, lawnmowers, bed mattresses, and other odds and ends were displayed. I was disappointed that there was no carpet, but the new stuffed animals on a rack in the corner caught my eye. I went to look as one of my friend’s granddaughters had said she would like a toy dog.

I was gratified to find a very cute stuffed dog for the sub-for-Santa girl, and a teddy bear for her sister, but imagine my surprise when I also noticed two brand new pairs of girls’ snow boots in that same corner. Snow boots were the only thing the 8-year-old girl had asked for, and I had planned on getting boots for both girls, but hadn’t made that shopping trip yet. It seemed truly impossible that these boots would be here in the back of the outdoor section of the store, marked for sale at a great price, and the exact sizes that the two little girls needed. I know that angels and miracles are still hard at work in 2008, especially for two little girls whose parents needed a little help with Christmas presents that year.

I offered a silent prayer of gratitude as I stood there with my arms full for a few moments. I was amazed and wondered why the boots and stuffed animals were not inside the main part of the store where those items were supposed to be. Then as I started to walk away with my arms full of these affordable gifts, a precious painting caught my eye. It was a beautifully framed original painting of red tulips in a vase. I marveled again, “What is that doing back here in this corner?” A closer look revealed the name of the artist as Charmaine. My heart skipped a beat as I excitedly thought “Could this be MY Charmaine, my very talented friend and neighbor in Fruit Heights?” I loved her paintings and intended to buy one some day. I turned the painting over and was delighted to see her full name on the back. “Yes, this was her - Charmaine Anderson!”

The picture was marked at only $5.00. I quickly stuffed it in my already full arms and headed for the checkout stand, fearful that someone would come take it from me and say there was some mistake.

I had only gone to do a good deed for someone else, but had been blessed instead as the recipient of my coveted Christmas tulips. And these were tulips that would last a lifetime; the best kind of Christmas present.

_____________________________

The rest of the story . . .

I hesitated to tell Charmaine about my purchase of her painting. I was afraid that she had given it as a gift to someone who didn’t appreciate it and had subsequently given it to the DI. On Christmas day, I needed an ingredient for dinner that I had forgotten to purchase. After checking several stores and finding them all closed, I called Charmaine to see if I could borrow from her. I decided to thank her for the Christmas present she didn’t know she had given me. I was very glad I decided to tell her, as I soon learned that the revelation of my purchase was about to give her family an unexpected Christmas present also. Truly, God loves us. He sent us His Son, and all good gifts come from Him.

MONTEREY CALIFORNIA - A WEEK IN JANUARY

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We are lucky to have good friends who live in a beautiful place like Monterey California. We have had the opportunity to travel and stay here on numerous occasions. This year the weather was spectacular in the low 70's. It was nice to get out of the snow. Steve Whitmer is a golf marshal at Spanish Bay and was able to get Mike on several exotic golf courses for free, which is always nice. Even I golfed for the first time in my life and I had a couple of lucky shots...not enough to encourage me to take up the sport, however. There are some wonderful restaurants in the Monterey vicinity and we are 10 lbs heavier I am sure. We played lots of cards, layed on the beach, walked in Toro Park, went to the movies, perused the galleries in Carmel and spent time at the Monterey Sculpture Center owned by Larry Fischer. It is always interesting to see what they are creating there. Life is good when you have great friends.

GOD'S ARMS

Winter prevails, including the cold winter of disappointment for Maren. Her marriage hopes were dashed two weeks before Christmas. I have never had my heart ache quite like this but, I know it has been worse for her. My prayers for her have been pleading, soul wrenching, physically and mentally exhausting. What do you pray for when your daughters heart is broken? Scriptures came to my mind: “Surely he hath borne our grief and carried our sorrow.” (Isaiah 53:4) “...my peace I leave with you, not as the world giveth give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled neither let it be afraid.” (John 14:27) Are these things that I could pray for? Are these prayers God would answer? I pleaded, hoping.

One day I thought, she needs to be “encircled about...in the arms of His love.” (2 Ne. 1:15) “Please God,” I cried, “let her feel your arms of love.” The next morning she called me. Her precious friends rallied and came to her aid. They cooked dinner and brought gifts. They rubbed her back and held her as she cried. They encircled her in the arms of their love. Oh, this is how it works. This is how prayers are answered.

I told her I was coming to see her. I told her I would clean and organize her house. She said, “No, that’s not what I need. Come and hold me and rub my back.” I did pray for this didn’t I? And then it was clear to me. I am not good at giving physical comfort. I am so task oriented and practical all I could think of was cleaning. Then I prayed a different prayer, “Please God, help me be better at being your arms.”

I have a young adult friend who writes poetry, Lindsay Hunt. After reading this blog she sent me her poem. I think it is wonderful and fits beautifully with my thoughts. Thanks Lindsay

Loving Arms

There is no greater feeling, than that of loving arms.
They can make you believe, you'll overcome anything that harms
The comfort and love that they possess,
Help so much to take away the stress.
With loving arms; they are always there,
No matter what, they'll be there to care!
The stress of life, they don't have to solve,
Just being there; they may help things evolve.
So turn to the arms, that you feel the most love,
They will try to help you start to rise above.
To feel of their comfort; everyone needs,
Before the loneliness of your heart bleeds.
Keep an eye out and an open heart to see;
You never know whose "loving arms" you may be!
~*Lindsay-Lou*~