The Captain

My treasured friend, LC, asked me today if I actually called my husband "The Captain". I know she was referring to a TV show, but since I do not exactly watch TV, I don't know what she was talking about. Except that she mentioned Kyle MacLachlan, and that can't be too bad, right?

I would like to imagine that I call him The Captain because he has always wanted to learn to sail. Or that he is control of this crazy ship that is our life. Or that our first, uber romantic, date involved sailing out into the sunset. Or...

How it really went is...

One day he came home after I had super detailed the house, which is a ridiculously difficult feat with three young children, and plunked a handful of change on the bookshelf. We have an "A" vase...which might be described in another blog, or perhaps you'll never know what "A" stands for, ever... but for now we'll say "Adventure" vase. It's where we put all of our loose change. For trips. Frustrated by his plunking down the handful of change, when he was about to run upstairs to the room where the "A" vase is, I said in my best shrew-like tone, "Why don't you put all of that in the 'A' vase?!?!?!" (--Ending there, not finishing with something evil like "you lazy slob". Because in my non-shrew state I really don't see him that way.) To which he replied a sarcastic "Aye aye, Captain." Which of course, in my evil state of shrewness, made me reply in a much gentler tone, "What did you just say? Because I'm sure it was very kind, since I know you love me more than anyone in the world." He indulged me by repeating the sentiment.

Soon after, I forgave him, and he forgave me. And now, as a joke, when the other is being a little too bossy, we call each other "Captain", and chuckle. One day it will become funny enough that we'll really, REALLY laugh. And it will be much more fun.

What he calls me, when he loves me, is Chief. And I love it. I feel like we have our own language because no one would know that "Chief" is loving. And I call him "Buddy".

What's Your Style?

I woke up this morning at a horrifying 5AM. I had just had a dream that my mother-in-law was telling me that I was so difficult to buy gifts for, that The Captain's previous girlfriend was so much easier. She could just purchase anything, and the previous girlfriend AS, could do wonders with it. "She is eccentric, and can work miracles with books, and odds and ends," my mother-in-law in my dream told me, The Captain in my dream nodding in agreement.

Poof!

Suddenly I'm in AS's home. It was an early 1900's home. And it looked something like this:
Feeling defensive, I argued that it was cluttered, and lacked warmth and direction. That it was not a home, etc etc. I woke up feeling...lousy. And I worried about how The Captain felt about my style.

In my previous life, I had a great sense of style. I had people asking if I could design a room for them, or complementing my decorating. In my current life, I just make do. It all looks fine. It is not fancy. We don't spend much extra to spruce it up or decorate. I'm not sure if it's kids or money, or just outside stress... but I don't care like I used to. Part of me misses it, part of me just wants to have a day off from laundry.

This morning, after I was awake, and calmed down from my dream, I asked The Captain if he liked my style. (You know, to confirm that I was after all his dream girl with the most captivating look and fashion sense and decorating sense of anyone he's ever met.) And he told me what I know to be true. We are at a time in our lives when we focus on family and kids, and keeping cars running. We don't have time or resources to focus on expressing personal style.

And then he described his dream living room:

Don't forget a flat screen TV.











And I described mine:







or something like it.









I realized compromise would be in order, and really, it's fine to have a makeshift living room that we're both "fine" with. There's so much more to life than looks. However, if you're comfortable, it can do good things for your spirit. And we are. There is love in our home. And that's my favorite style, in all the world.

"Celine Dion Good" Brownies!

The Captain and I have talked a lot about Celine Dion lately. In fact, I think I owe a blog to some of the conversations we've had about Celine Dion.

The point is, whether or not you like her, how she looks, or her music, you have to admit: That girl can SING. She is truly a genuinely, flawlessly, amazing singer.

Over the course of my young life, I have had my "fool proof" recipe for brownies. My family has encouraged me to enter them into the State Fair, but I didn't feel like they were "perfect" enough. They lacked the "shazam".

Last Saturday I was attending the baptism for our friend's son, TDV. I decided in the morning that it would only bring joy to have an extra pan of brownies. So I whipped out my usual fool-proof recipe, and discovered I was out of shortening! Even my food storage was lacking shortening! Desperate, and out of time, I grabbed 2 sticks of butter, and replaced the shortening 1:1.

After baking, terrified I was going to poison TDV's friends and family, I tried a square, to ensure I wasn't about to go down in history as the "woman who makes brownie looking bricks". They were a-MA-zing. Let me rephrase... they were AMAZING! They had SHAZAM! They had reached perfection! Angels were singing! *I* was singing!

I had to leave the baptism early, but as I understand, a riot broke out over the brownies, those left with crumbs cried, and several have asked for the recipe. I'm not one to hoard, so here it is. All I ask is that you wait until after 2011's State Fair to submit them to the State Fair yourself. haha.



Cocoa Brownies
1/2 c softened BUTTER (who knew?)
2 eggs
1 c sugar
1 tsp vanilla

2/3 c flour
1/2 c cocoa
1/2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 c optional chopped walnuts

Heat oven to 350. Mix softened butter, sugar, eggs, and vanilla until well blended. Blend dry ingredients together (no need to sift unless it's hand ground flour). Mix together. Spread in a well-greased 8x8 pan. For 9x13, you need to double the recipe. Bake about 30 minutes.


The Captain had heard of the ruckus, and asked me to reproduce a pan, so I did. And last night another pan... To which he declared "These are 'Celine Dion Good'!" Which, as you now know means "Even if you don't like brownies, you have to confess they are amazing!" My husband who doesn't like sweets has eaten over half of the pan.

What, in your world, would you consider "Celine Dion Good"?

What Looks Like Love

After spending the morning on the telephone with various doctors, learning how Bear's, Peach's, and my worlds are changing, I announced to The Captain, who came home on his lunch break, that I was going to go take a bath to escape the world for a moment.

Soon after, he came in, Cherry Coke in hand, setting it on my tub's edge. Cherry Coke delivered by my sweetheart, while I soak away my sorrows, without contradiction, is what love looks like in my world. And once again I'm reminded that I can get through anything.

Trash or Treasure?

One thing I love about life is all of the feelings I feel when I use my senses. Beautiful sights (I love photography and art!), Smells (hello bakeries and fine dining and flowers!), touch (knitting, textures, fabrics!), tastes (creamy texture, amazing flavors...), and sounds (music, birds, children, laughter). I love it in abundance.

It also stresses me out... darkness, tar smell, bare feet on grass, sticky things, loud sounds, mean people...

I'm sensitive. The Captain realized that before we were married, and keeps it forefront in his mind. But how sensitive am I???

Bear is undergoing some testing for some different processing functions. Missing those a-MA-zing quizzes I used to do in Seventeen magazine (which I really never read past age 15), I did my own version of his Sensory Processing Disorder quiz. And guess what I learned?

I have Severe Sensory Processing Disorder. For real. Not pretend for real. For real for real.

While I'm not surprised, I'm surprised! After reading more of the material from his doctor, it appears I just hardly complain about the nasty I feel. I don't cry or scream or yell, even if I feel it inside.

Isn't that interesting? So now I get to learn more about SPD, and myself. And I get to decide how I feel about it. Do I use it as a tool to become a "better" person, or do I set it aside, claiming "hogwash", and go along my merry way?

I only wonder one thing... If I'm sensitive, what's "normal" in everyone else's world?

Suspicious Nights

This is one of my favorite Elvis songs of all time. I love the truth behind acting with integrity, and not having a night that would make the person who loves you worry and wonder. You can't build your dreams on suspicious nights. Right?

The Captain and I love to sing. We sing and sing and sing whenever we can. The other morning I announced that I would be showering because Peach was sleeping. He replied with a song "It's noooow or never. Come hoooold me tight. Kiss me my darling. Be mine tonight..." Meaning "It's now or never, go shower and make it snappy." I then of course stalled --Perhaps I have this sadistic desire to stall enough that he will have to watch Peach, who wakes up mid shower, while I have it on just the right temperature, and don't want to get out-- by asking him what his favorite Elvis song was, because I knew we had the same one.

We both start singing "We can't go on together with suspicious ____." *record screeches* I said "Nights" he said "Minds". Oh I loved it. He was SO WRONG. I had bet him before on music, and lost. Over and over and over again. Unless it was a year of a song. I'm good at that. But I knew I was right about this one. I loved this song. I downloaded this song from Napster as "Suspicious Nights". I have been singing it since I was a child this way. I beamed as I placed my bet... and sat there stunned as I learned I was WRONG!

I was WRONG!

And worst of all, he was RIGHT!

Ay yi yi.

So now I've listened to the song, with new ears. And I REALLY like it! It's such a good song! I love the truth behind giving trust to the person you love, and not stressing a relationship through worry and wonder. It's a great song.

It has helped me love my husband more. But it could be that I love him more because not only does he teach me about songs, but he is now humoring me singing one verse with "suspicious minds" and then surprising me by the next verse singing "suspicious nights", which makes me laugh! What a great man. ...He has rightfully earned me spoon-feeding him Tillamook Mudslide ice cream yet again...

Just Give Me the Whole Pie

A few years ago, a prominent person in my life sent an email that I'll never forget. It stated how this person had served a mission, served in the military, and raised children, and wanted to know when they would get service in return. I was quick to point out that those were services they had given, and *should* expect nothing in return. It's true.

Today at church, SW spoke on humility. It was an awesome talk. And he used my delightful husband as an example of a humble person. (And my heart bubbled with healthy pride.) One quote I keep repeating in my head, so I remember it is: "Humility is not when we think less OF ourselves. Humility is when we think less ABOUT ourselves."

Then in Relief Society (ladies group), the lesson was on service. It was a great lesson. I realized that my bitterness blog the other day was just awful. I was feeling expectant and entitled. While I know no one read it in its entirety, I assure you, it was regarding me having the same "what about me?" attitude from the email that I so quickly chastised.

Service is charity, service is love. Service is not a bank of due diligence.

My first slice of humble pie was after I wrote out the blog and realized I needed to put my unkind feelings behind me. So I deleted. My second slice was realizing I genuinely need to forget myself in service. Not just talk about it, or talk about what I learned from not having it, I need to do it! I have always felt that a better world comes from taking care of your self, taking care of your companion, taking care of your family, taking care of your community, and so forth. So often I keep my world too small, and forget to move outside of my family.

So if you could all forgive me, I will do better at thinking less about myself, and more about others. It is where love is.