CARTERISTA

My Kind of Writing

noreply@blogger.com (Carterista) — Sat, 23 Jan 2010 22:59:00 +0000

It must be on account of having so many "writing" friends that when someones mentions "writing" everyone jumps to the conclusion that it's a serious kind of writing, when it's really only the blog/facebook/email kind of writing. :) Love you all!

My Good, Better, Best Philosphy

noreply@blogger.com (Carterista) — Mon, 18 Jan 2010 18:06:00 +0000

Writing is good.
Reading is better.
Taking care of my family is best.

If I only get to the better and best,
I call it good.

*huge smile, head nod*

Good times!

noreply@blogger.com (Carterista) — Wed, 04 Nov 2009 03:21:00 +0000

A few minutes ago I was teasing Julian and telling her she couldn't take out the cute braid I did in her hair. She protested, but finally gave up in a huff. I went to say goodnight to Logan and came back to find her lying diagonally, face down on her bed. She was shaking and I thought I heard sobs. I said, not quite disbelievingly, "Are you seriously crying?" She laughed and answered in a triumphant voice, "Drama (club) is totally worth it!"
What's more, I assured her it was okay with me if she removed the braid and offered to take it out myself, only to be stopped abruptly. Julian 'hmmed' a bit, then admitted that while I wanted her to keep it in, she didn't want it, but when I wanted to take it out, she had a strong desire to keep it in. She even giggled while she unabashedly stated that she has roller coaster emotions. Very astute, don't you think? I love having an almost teenager to have fun with!

In contrast, on Sunday, I was bemoaning my high forehead and remembering a few years back when a co-worker caught sight of me in a store while I crouched to look at something on the bottom shelf of an isle. Said she, "I'd recognize that forehead anywhere!" Nice.
A couple of hours after that unwelcome memory emerged, I returned home and knocked on my own front door. I expected to be let in by my kids, but no one answered after several knocks and rings. Finally, I saw the blinds part and the door was opened by Logan who said with a big smile on his face, "I'd recognize those eyes anywhere." Well, I happen to like my eyes. I'd rather have them noticed than my forehead any day. I love having a sweet little boy to compliment me.
.

What's new?

noreply@blogger.com (Carterista) — Thu, 29 Oct 2009 04:02:00 +0000

Man. I need to get a life so I can post about it.

Thrillionaries

noreply@blogger.com (Carterista) — Mon, 19 Oct 2009 15:48:00 +0000

WOO-HOO!!!
It was a blast. I was amazed how Twilight Zonish the Twilight Zone one was. Even the musical was terrific. These people amaze me! Mel B, you amaze me!

Thrillionaires this weekend!!!

noreply@blogger.com (Carterista) — Fri, 16 Oct 2009 23:33:00 +0000

Come celebrate Halloween season with The Thrillionaires. Here's what's coming up:

October 17
Style: 1. Twilight Zone 2. Alien Invasion Musical
***I'm totally going to this one and taking my kids, too. My sister Melissa will be performing. Only $5 with the discount. Anyone want to go with us???
(I'll have to be late for Girls' Night)

October 24
Style: Teen/Modern Vampires

October 31 - Halloween
Style: 1. 80s B-movie Horror 2. Slasher Movie Musical

If you order tickets online at www.coveycenter.org and use the promo code "ghost" you will get in for 1/2 price ($5)!

Is This For Real!!??

noreply@blogger.com (Carterista) — Wed, 07 Oct 2009 03:17:00 +0000

Click on this link and tell me what you think.

Crazy Amnesty Bill

I think it's OUTRAGEOUS!!
.

Favorites?

noreply@blogger.com (Carterista) — Sun, 04 Oct 2009 19:41:00 +0000

There's still one session left and I'll need to read the talks from the Priesthood session, but so far my favorite talk has been President Monson's talk on serving others. All those stories of the children serving others brought tears to my eyes and I felt the Spirit strongly. He is truly an inspired prophet of God. Such a simple principle can cause so much happiness for everyone involved. It's just what the world needs as we go through these ever increasingly difficult times over which we have no control.

What was your favorite talk?
.

The Worst and the Best...

noreply@blogger.com (Carterista) — Sun, 27 Sep 2009 02:03:00 +0000

The worst and the best of this week can be summarized by two thoughts...

#1
As individuals, first graders are adorable with their little fingers and toes and big eyes and lisps. But, collectively, I'd rather not be in their presence as a leader of any kind. Two groups of twenty-eight of them in a gym for an hour every day uses up my effort and patience quota. I spend the rest of the day glad to be in the presence of 4th-6th graders...or even better no students at all and just a good book for company. :) Thanks for Graceling, Peggy. It saved me this week.

#2
I've rediscovered the essence of pure vanilla. The undeniable rich and creamy aroma (and taste) of it in chocolate chip cookie dough before and after baking. Mmmm. Yummy. Too many years finishing a big bottle of imitation had erased it from my sieve of a mind. Thank goodness for food storage. If I hadn't have had to dip into it, I might have wasted my precious dough on the counterfeit again.
.

To sleep or not to sleep...?

noreply@blogger.com (Carterista) — Wed, 23 Sep 2009 00:33:00 +0000

Sleep and sleep related subjects are all that seem to inspire me lately. Do you love sleeping in a cozy bed as much as I do? It's the perfect way to escape the daily grind. Night, day or even morning. If I didn't have to get up in the morning, I wouldn't. Not until my back started to hurt from lying down too long. Yes, that has happened more than I'd like to admit.

While working on yet another poetic expression of sleep last night, a pang of sympathy struck me and I thought of how often sleep eludes my husband, Jarid. This short poem was written for him.

For Jarid
(from his wife, Cecilia)

Where can one find sweet peace
When one can't fall asleep?
When e'en without a peep
Consciousness will not retreat?

How disconsolate the one
Who lies awake alone
At night when sleeps the sun
With thoughts that won't be done!

Oh please, my mind entreats,
Please let him fall asleep!
For with each pulsing beat
His heart craves desired sleep.

I understand that many people have a love/hate relationship with sleep or some other relationship that I can't fathom. How do you feel about it???
.

If you don't mind...

noreply@blogger.com (Carterista) — Tue, 08 Sep 2009 02:04:00 +0000

If you don't paying only 3 bucks for 3 tickets...
Or trying to find 3 seats together 20 minutes before the show starts...
Or sitting down and wondering what the heck that smell is...

If you don't mind wondering how in the world they could possibly have sold out the early show...
Or being distracted from the movie while you scan dark shapes for whatever it is that smells like vomit and desperately hoping your not sitting in it...
Or chewing stick after stick of Doublemint gum and breathing into the collar of your t-shirt attempting to mask the smell...

If you don't mind becoming increasingly hot and sweaty in the crowded, muggy theater...
Or having to riffle through your purse for an item large enough to fan yourself and your kids...
Or noticing how other shiny, sweaty faces are eyeing your large sheet of Ken Garff coupons...

If you don't mind having to promise your kids you'll never bring them here again...
Or listening to your 8 yr old tell you how much the chairs are hurting his back...
Or panicking and sitting on the edge of your chair for half the movie because you realize the vomit might be dried to your chair...

Then the Towne Center Theatre in American Fork might be the perfect theater for you.
I don't consider myself spoiled when it comes to movie theaters, but this was definitely a first and a last for me.

Ode to My Bed

noreply@blogger.com (Carterista) — Thu, 03 Sep 2009 23:51:00 +0000

Although you may find the subject of this poem amusing,
I assure you all the emotions are genuine. :)

Ode to My Bed

by Cecilia Carter

I sigh.
You comfort me
In the coolness of crisp sheets.
Assailed by unspoken thoughts,
I find a quiet place to rest.

I drift.
You cradle me
In gentle curves of mattress.
Protected from life’s urgency,
I find a yielding place to berth.

I doze.
You shelter me
In warm bundles of blanket.
Hidden from threat of hazard,
I find a safer place to be.

I dream.
You let me
In cloaking calm of darkness.
Buoyed up by sweet surrender,
I find a peaceful place to be.

I wake.
You renew me
In clear repose of conscience.
Relaxed by restful slumber,
I find kind tranquility.
.

My Very Own Lawn Art

noreply@blogger.com (Carterista) — Tue, 01 Sep 2009 22:12:00 +0000

This is the back yard at my parents house. I've been keeping their grass trimmed this summer while they're on a mission. It's my first attempt at using different blade heights in the same "mowing session." Simple, but satisfying..

Top 3 Whiny Expostulations

noreply@blogger.com (Carterista) — Mon, 24 Aug 2009 23:06:00 +0000

TOP THREE WHINY EXPOSTULATIONS

Expostulation #1

I've come to understand that my brain travels through space more slowly than my body. Multiple times each day I experience the proof of this.

Case in Point: This morning I was standing in the kitchen thinking I needed to do something specific. In response to what I needed I headed downstairs. Once at the bottom of the stairs I became confused, turned left toward the bathroom and paused, unable to remember what it was I needed. During the pause, my brain floated down the stairs, caught up with my body and suddenly I knew I need only turn right toward the computer to complete the errand I had started.

Expostulation #2

BLTs. These tasty little morsels are killing me. Well, they are in a sense, but more accurately, they are killing my goal to eat healthily and regain my former, shapely physique. Bites, Licks and Tastes seem innocent enough, but add them together and they equal a quite appalling mass of unwanted calories.

Expostulation #3

Unconsciously, I must think that if I wish hard enough my wish will come true. No matter how much nonsense it would make for me not to work, I still deeply wish to be a stay-at-home mom. We could never live without the insurance. Medical copays and premiums are already seriously denting our financial freedom. My kids are both in school full-time. I'd be here alone for the most part. Yet I still find myself wishing with 92% of the fibers of my being that I didn't have to work.

It's not even that I don't like my job. It's just that it takes away from so much I could be doing. Like the other two-sevenths of 'homemaking' that never seems to get 'made. ' And, being able to care for my kids when they are ill without worrying about covering my classes at work. And, being able to volunteer at their school and more completely fulfill my calling in church.

"With a wish and with a will
I stood upon that silent hill
And stared into the sky until
My eyes were blind with stars and still
I stared into the sky."

(Adapted from the last stanza of Ralph Hodgson's "The Song of Honour"
http://theotherpages.org/poems/gp2_7.html)

SO, there are my Top Three Whiny Expostulations. (Just using the word expostulation so many times has made me feel a bit better.)

If you have an expostulation to share, by all means, it's welcome here.
EXPOSTULATION = COMPLAINT
.

I've said it before and I'll say it again. When I drive, angels attend. Even when I'm idling.

noreply@blogger.com (Carterista) — Fri, 31 Jul 2009 22:43:00 +0000

I merge into the single lane halfway to the freeway from Macey's food store and within seconds see the flashing lights in my rear view mirror. They are inside the windshield of the white, unmarked car I've just passed.

The weird thing is that I'm not nervous at all. I pull to the right as far as I can to keep the officer safe from on-coming traffic. I think, If I get a ticket, oh well, I've broken enough laws without being caught. But, man, I hope I can go to traffic school. I don't have any money.

A middle-aged, stout man walks up to my now open window and asks for my license. Hey! I get to use my new license. I'd gotten it just a week ago in the mail. (See how un-nervous I am?)

Usually, the officer asks if you know why he pulled you over. He doesn't. He simply states that I was going 60.

"I was? What is the speed limit on this road?"

He mouths the word forty as he holds up 4 fingers, moving them as if in slow motion.

"Whoa. That is too fast. I thought I had merged wrong or something. I didn't see the sign."

"That's because you were going too fast. Are you in a rush?"

"No"

"Where are you going?"

"To a cancer follow up at Primary Children's." I motion to the back seat with a wave of my hand. "I guess I was driving like I was already on the freeway."

"Twenty miles over is way too fast." Then, holding my license an flicking it with the middle finger of his other hand, "Should I give you a ticket or not...?"

I wait. Was that a rhetorical question?

After a moment I quietly mumble, "Well, I hope you don't, but I was going too fast." The money for this is going to kill me.

He hands me the card and tells me I really need to slow down. Of course, I agree and reassure him that I will be much more careful.

He shakes my hand and I'm surprised at that.

I point to the Sheriff badge hanging near his belly from a chain. "I see you work for the Sheriff's office. So does my husband."

A few things happen after that, including me admitting that when he sees me pull out back onto the road, he'll notice my right rear turn signal is out. But I definitely drive off with gratitude in my heart.

Thank you, Deputy Sheen.

What did I almost lose today???

noreply@blogger.com (Carterista) — Mon, 20 Jul 2009 19:35:00 +0000

MY LUNCH!

That's right. When I pulled from the mailbox this afternoon,
the principal letter with information about the start of school,
I felt a wave of almost nausea welling up within me.
NO-O-O!!!
It's inevitable, though.
Jarid had not one iota of sympathy for me, either.
He never really has.

Also,
I'm learning that if one eats a steady diet of oatmeal cookies,
it improves one's regularity.
.

Name my true short story.

noreply@blogger.com (Carterista) — Mon, 13 Jul 2009 13:47:00 +0000

I reached up for the mag light on the top shelf of the pantry and tested the batteries by pushing the power button. Good, I thought. I would need this tonight. I had waited long enough. What I needed to do had to be done as soon as possible, all evidence removed before dawn.

My husband and two children were sound asleep in their beds. The house was quiet, but for the padding of my feet as I collected the tools that would be needed to cover up my sin. By morning it would be finished and only a select few would ever know.

After slipping on some shoes, I left the house, careful to lock the door behind me. I found the shovel propped near the back steps in the dirt. I thought myself clever as I slipped the shovel into a plastic grocery sack. No trace would be left in the back of my Explorer, no evidence of my terrible crime. The other three sacks should be enough to temporarily stifle the smell.

I smiled to myself. I only needed to travel a few blocks to the dump site. Using my car in the darkness of the night would be safer than chancing a saunter through the neighborhood with a shovel and bags filled with evidence. There were plenty of SUVs like mine in the area. I'd even thought to cover my license plate with smudges of mud, but changed my mind. Having a cop for a husband had certain advantages and I'd heard him tell of vehicles that had been suspicious for just that reason. I would be lithe and quick.

The quiet purr as I started the engine was comforting. This was my favorite of all cars. Solid and powerful, yet beautiful in form and design. I'd known it was the perfect car for me the moment I'd seen it. Sitting in it for a test drive was but confirmation of my feeling. I felt the satisfaction of owning her now as I maneuvered quietly past the houses with darkened windows. I'd cursed this town many times for not having well-lit streets. Tonight, however, I was grateful for the cloak of dark.

As I approached the site with my headlights switched off and quietly pulled my car diagonally into the gravelly roadside, I noticed movement within the house. My heart jumped. It was nearly midnight. Perhaps in my eagerness, I'd launched my plan too early. I waited in the stillness. I saw no further movement and decided to approach the house to assure myself that I would not be discovered. Getting caught was not an option.

I stealthily crept toward the door. Tiptoeing to peek through the window, I saw that a low kitchen light had been left on, probably as a night light for the children. Maybe it had been one of them moving in the kitchen for a mid-night drink of water. Surely they would have fallen back to sleep easily, unaware of my presence. I was more concerned about the light at the bottom of the stairs that led down from the entryway behind the door. I lingered a moment watching for signs of flicking light that might be a television or other movement within. Nothing. My heart calmed and I felt pleased with myself. Everything was falling into place. I would be gone in minutes. Time to begin.

I felt confident and bold enough to switch on the car's headlights. The light poured over the lawn, lighting the space beneath the tree where I would be working. I retrieved the shovel and one white sack and carried them to the front of the car searching for the exact position of the drop. I scanned the grass until I located the prize. Scooping carefully with the shovel, I removed the first deposit in one complete piece. I let it slide smoothly into the bag. I had worried that I might disturb the form, leaving traces on the grass, but it had lifted perfectly off the ground. I knew there was another. I found it quickly and repeated the process just as successfully. I almost chuckled with pleasure at my good fortune.

With my acquisitions I returned to the back of the car. I delicately placed the first bag into a second one, not wanting to disturb the shape, then made a knot of the handles. The closer to airtight, the better.

I felt a feeling of elation. The smile on my face and in my heart were equally matched. The light from the vehicle cast shadows among the blades of grass, so for good measure I played the light of the mag over the area looking for anything I may have missed. Not finding even a suggestion of what had been there and thinking that perhaps I should be wise and not tarry, I replaced the flashlight, covered the end of the shovel with it's bag and deftly closed the heavy hatch door.

All the way home my heart beat with blissful delight. I had executed my task with consummate perfection, an accomplishment that will live on only in the minds of a trusted few from this night forward.

How To Tell If Your Family Loves You Just The Way You Are.

noreply@blogger.com (Carterista) — Fri, 10 Jul 2009 03:00:00 +0000

It's simple.
Shave you hairy arms.
Then show them your arms and ask them if they
notice something different about them.
My husband and kids stared and thought and
thought and stared and only came up with...
"They are skinnier?"
"You have more freckles?"
And my favorite...
"You're losing your tan?"
So, there you have it.
No one noticed the difference,
obviously therefore,
they did not notice (or care) that my arms
were hairy in the first place. :)

Hey. Don't complain.

noreply@blogger.com (Carterista) — Sun, 28 Jun 2009 23:07:00 +0000

I still use this site to link to ya'll's blogs.

The Secret Drawer

noreply@blogger.com (Carterista) — Sun, 03 May 2009 01:11:00 +0000

Tonight while I was putting away the kale...(Yes, I actually bought kale. I have Olive Garden's Chicken Gnocchi Soup recipe!)...So, I opened the crisper drawer at the bottom of my fridge and I say, "Ooooo! Gross!"

"What? What!?" Logan asks.

I take out the drawer with some spilled spinach rot and he heads over to the fridge.

He exclaims, "Oh! I forgot about that drawer. Look! Here's another one. A secret drawer!"

Facing the sink with my back turned to him, I say, "See if there are any potatoes in there."

Julian races over and helps him take out a bag. She says, "Yep."

"Maybe there are some eyes on them. Why don't you check," I suggest. By now Logan is distracted with something else in the kitchen, but he hears the comment about 'eyes,' so I start explaining what they are.

Before I get very far, I hear Logan yell, "Oooaagh!!" I turn to see Julian holding one of the potatoes for him to see.

What's so great is that he was freaked out long enough for me to grab the camera and snap a couple of shocks. I mean, shots.

After that he wouldn't come into that part of kitchen until he was curtain I'd put it away.

Only Five Bucks!!!!...and a joke for free.

noreply@blogger.com (Carterista) — Mon, 20 Apr 2009 01:52:00 +0000

I love a deal.

And since I don't find them often, when I do I'm thrilled.
Aren't they awsome!?Of course I wanted to wear them at the earliest possible occasion.
I did today and they are so comfortable!

While I was purchasing them,
the checker told the kids and me a joke.

Him: "Have you noticed that the word garage
on all the garage sale signs is missing a B?"

Me: "Garage doesn't have a B."

Him: *smile*

Do YOU get it?
Hahaha!
.

Can YOU find it???

noreply@blogger.com (Carterista) — Sun, 19 Apr 2009 00:17:00 +0000

This is what Julian called her "Masterpiece"
during our egg hunt on Easter.
It's an egg she hid for Logan in the backyard.
Logan hid some in the front yard for Julian.
After the hunts, they switched areas and hid more eggs.
I was SO surprised at how well they hid those eggs.
Some of them I'd never have found.
Would you have found this one?

Correction :-)

noreply@blogger.com (Carterista) — Thu, 16 Apr 2009 20:42:00 +0000

Not "otter pop with panda stickers on the backs."
They are sweet and sour sauce. HAHA!!!

Spring Break

noreply@blogger.com (Carterista) — Thu, 16 Apr 2009 00:11:00 +0000

Does this look like Spring Break weather to you?
Well, Rascal had fun....BUT...

...the rest of us went to the BYU Museum of Art.

These pieces we very interesting. I took a few photos,
not sure whether I should or not.

Up close. Yep. Otter Pops.At the start of the Main Attraction, a guard saw me holding my camera
and kindly imformed me that picture-taking was not allowed,
so you don't get to see the Walter Wick exhibit.

If you're not sure who he is, ask your kids about the "I Spy" books.
They are sure to know what I'm talking about. :-)

I can't help it!!!

noreply@blogger.com (Carterista) — Mon, 06 Apr 2009 18:36:00 +0000

Ahhh...Remember when Jarid first brought him home..
...in his little kennel.
We upgraded within a week to a mid-size model and thought we were done.

Oh yeah. He's big.

Time to upgrade again.

Julian calls these "Kissing Attacks."
I think he's learned it goes over much better to lick than to bite.
He gets her good and she loves it.

And Mama...Logan loves him. Here he's being pretty tame. But, he's not usually as gentle as Julian. He usually walks right up to Rascal, firmly places his hand on the top of Rascal's fluffy head, and bear-hugs him. Yep. This sweet puppy has been a real confidence booster for him.