For the Beauty of the Skies

One of the lovely things that I always miss about my mom's hometown of Rexburg, Idaho is the amazing sky. For the most part Rexburg is completely and absolutely flat, and with very few trees or buildings you are left with mostly sky. Rexburg is also a very windy town, so whatever changes in weather you get tend to happen rather quickly. You can see a rain storm coming from miles away.

It rushes through in a matter of minutes, and then you get to watch it leave.

It is really quiet fantastic.


On the Fourth of July we love to just sit in my mom's yard, slathered in bug spray, and watch all the fireworks being lit from all over town.

But no firework show could ever compare to a Rexburg lightening storm. (Do you have any idea how many completely black photos I had to take before I finally caught one of these beauties on film? Let's just say I hit the delete button so many times I developed a callous. It was so worth it).

And don't even get me started on the sunsets. This is the view from my mom's back porch. Every night is a new masterpiece, a new moment of glory, each one an original never to be copied or reproduced. These are worth each and every single bug bite.

It may seem like I keep my head in the clouds, and you may wonder why I love my mom's sky so much...

But if you were surrounded by hoards of wildebeasts on a constant sunburn-popsicle high, you'd look to the skies for a moment of sweet serenity too.

(pardon the poor quality of this video, it is my very first attempt at video editing)

New Home

Hello little blog. I'm sorry I've neglected you so. The cobwebs and dust are gathering in your corners, and your links are getting a tad rusty. Anybody miss me? Anyone still here? Hello? Sorry I've been so silent, I have a tendency of doing this when I have so much to talk about that I don't know where to start. You should see my diaries. Pages and pages full of mundanities and acne reports, and then when something big/huge/life-changing happens in my life the pages are left tragically blank. But here I am, alive and well, happy and enthusiastic, head still spinning, and not a clue what to make of it all. I'll go more in to all that later, though. For now I thought I'd start with the house, or houses. Let's start with the houses we did not choose:

We did not choose the crazy old "farm house with charm" that had undulating wooden floors, Gothic wood paneling complete with a giant crab carving on the wall, and the yellow metal file cabinets that took the place of more traditional kitchen cabinets. But just take a look at the master bedroom closet: You get a spacious 2 inch deep closet that buts up against another door. No worries, they installed plenty of towel racks for you to hang your clothes on. And who needs air fresheners when you have so many attractive pest control devices smelling it up for you.

We didn't choose the house that had a separate room just for the fridge. I love food, but not so much that the fridge needs its very own room. Plus this house only had one bathroom, and it was in the kitchen, and it's colors were baby blue and antique mustard yellow.

This next house was big, nice, but had a mold problem and giant spiders that had glowing eyes. The mold was my deal breaker, and the spiders were Mr. Hotnesseses's.

Ever since I was 4 my favorite colors have been green and yellow. I really like those colors, but not so much that I would paint the whole outside of my house those colors. Still, we thought we should give it a chance. I should have known better when I saw the freaky demon face glaring at us from above:

Little did I know that the green and yellow nightmare would only get worse. The sad thing is that it was a gorgeous house in a lovely neighborhood. The even sadder thing is that this is fresh paint, painted specifically to help "sell" this place. But sadder still is the gorgeous wood flooring, which they thought needed a fresh coat of poop brown paint. It makes me want to cry:

Why would you update a kitchen so nicely only to ruin it with this paint? WHY????

And that is only the start of a very interesting house hunting trip we went on before we finally found a lovely home (which I will show you tomorrow) in New Fairfield, CT.

We are all very happy here, Mr. Hot loves his job, and I'm going to try my best to get back into blogging so I can stay connected with all my friends and family. WE MISS YOU!!!

Quick Recap on the Crazy

"Here's a little song I wrote, you might want to sing it note for note, don't worry, be happy. Don't worry, be happy now. Ooooooo Oo Oo"

No worries, I am happy once again. Friday was a really bad day for me. It was one of those days where everything was coming to a climax, a million new things were starting, I was being "abandoned" once again, and expectations were not met, and I broke a little under the strain. Saturday was much better, Sunday was fantastic, and now I feel I can keep on goin'.

My DJ sister recently asked me what the friggonomics has been going on over here. Well, sis, let me give you the quick and speedy version in which much will be left out:

We have had two teenage boys living with us 5 days and 5nights every week for the past month because their family had become homeless after their dad lost his job. It was an amazing experience that I plan to post about when I have time to do it justice. The great news is that the dad found work, they were able to find a new place to live and now they are together once again just in time for Thanksgiving.

For safety, while having the boys here (I'm an ultra paranoid mom when it comes to my kids), I had the boys sleep downstairs and had all my kids sleep upstairs in the living room which is right next to our bedroom. My living room often smelt like sweaty bodies because of this. So gross. But the kids were absolute angels about it and never complained (even though I did). In fact they had fun making tents out of blankets to sleep in every night.

Mr. Hotness has been doing a lot of traveling this month. It was all approved, even encouraged, by me. I just didn't realize that each trip was going to happen so closely, and so close to Thanksgiving, and that I would have 2 extra kids here either. So, Mr Hot was in Boise to guest lecture at BSU and spend time with friends and family. He was gone for 5 days. He came home for 2 days and then left for another 2 1/2 days to go see the apple cup with a really good friend of his. He came home yesterday and left this morning to LA for a big job interview and won't get back until late Tuesday night.

So it has been a little crazy around here. You might think that we would be looking forward to spending a nice, quiet holiday at home, right? Naaaaaaaw. We are suckers for mayhem. That is why I only have 3 days to prepare for having a grand total of 23 people living here for the Thanksgiving weekend. In families with big families all you have to do is invite 2 siblings for Thanksgiving and you get a lot of bodies in the head count. =)

BRING IT ON!

Forgive in Time for Turkey

Forgive in Time for Turkey

"I've really never had a problem with forgiveness. I think of it this way, if I can forgive my dad for abusing me and my mom for abandoning me then I can pretty much forgive anyone for anything. Except... well there are some old friends of ours that I don't think I will ever be able to forgive. My husband forgave them years ago. For some reason he doesn't seem to mind what they did to me, to us, but I can't see how anyone could do what they did. They were supposed to be family and family just doesn't do that sort of thing to each other."


I sat curled up on the other end of the sofa from my dear friend Samantha as we sipped warm mugs of anise herbal tea. Samantha had quite the life story. As a child she was raised by a loving but alcoholic mother who tried to protect her daughter from men by making her look ugly. She instilled in her daughter a belief in God's love, a desire to learn, and a sense of beauty in all things except herself. She taught her daughter beautiful old ballads that the girl would sing to comfort herself during the days when her mother would disappear and the booze took over. Samantha loved her mother but was never able to reconcile the choice her mother made when she took her brothers and left her alone. No, it was worse than alone. Her mother, who tried so hard to keep her from the advances of men, left her with the one man who could hurt her worse than anyone, Samantha's father. A father who remarried an awful, abusive woman. A father who sexually, physically, verbally, and in every other way imaginable, abused his little girl until she reached the age of 16 and went to court to legally remove his rights to hurt her.


Despite all of this, Samantha had grown up to be successful, loving, never giving up on her dreams or the dreams of others, always ready to scoop a needing body into her arms to give the love that she had never been given herself. Knowing all this about my friend I had to find out what could have been so horrific, so evil, so cruel, that she couldn't give these singular friends the same forgiveness that she granted to all the other awful people who had tried to break her down.


"It was years ago. Daniel and I were newly married and trying to start a business together. We had these dear, wonderful friends, Todd and Rainee, and we were like a family. In fact we had made a pact with each other to that very effect. They knew my history and they took me in and told me that they would be the family I never had. And I believed them. Well, the four of us decided to go into buying a house together. We put everything we had into it. We were going to start a business together and run it out of the house. Everything was going just fine, I mean we had some ups and downs but nothing more than anyone should expect. I had a bad bout with my depression, but they had seen my depression before, they knew what to expect. And then, just months after getting the place all put together, they decided that it wasn't going to work, that they couldn't live with us. They bought us out of our half of the house, just like that. Just like that they were able to dump us. And they had the nerve to say they still wanted to be our friends, our family. How could they? Danny forgave them right away and they seem to still want to be friends with us but I can't do it. They seem shocked by my actions. My actions. As if they should be understood and forgiven for what they did. Families don't do that to each other. They don't stab you in the back and leave you out in the cold. I mean, I know my family did, but we weren't a real family. Our friends, and Daniel, and I had promised to be the best family to each other, to be there for each other no matter what. I know you are from a big loving family. They would never do something like that, would they!?!"


I had been listening with sincere concern, thinking up words of comfort, and several mean things I could say about her awful friends, trying to feel her pain and be ready to validate it, until she got to the part about my family. At that moment my pursed and thoughtful lips exploded with a force of ironic laughter that burst from the very depths of my gut. In that split second the concern I felt for her plight was dissolved in a fit of hilarious understanding. As scenes and memories flooded my brain in a matter of milliseconds I saw her mistake. Her big fat mistake. Because Samantha had never had a real family she had built up this ideal image of family life in her mind. She thought that real families never hurt each other, never break each others hearts, are always there for one another and never let you down. Ho boy, was she ever wrong about families.


Seeing the shock at my rude laughter on her face I choked and coughed as I tried desperately to stop that I might explain myself to her. "Oh, Samantha, is that what you really think family is all about? If only you really knew, you would see that your friends were acting just like real families do. You think my family hasn't ever had major fights, backstabbing, even disowning each other at times? Of course we do. We are all human, just because we are family doesn't mean we don't make mistakes and mess up royally on a daily basis."


Samantha stumbled over her words as she tried to grasp what I was saying, "But... you... your family, I mean, you are always... you love your family, you've told me so... how could..."


"Samantha, it all comes down to Thanksgiving."


"What?" I think she was starting to question my sanity and future validity as a friend.


"Thanksgiving. We, families, are always hurting each other. Why I could tell you stories just from my own wonderful family that would stand your hair on end. Oh, the ways we've hurt each other! But, because we are family, we have to forgive each other,because we know that every year we are going to have to sit down at that same table on Thanksgiving and face one another. It really is the only reason that families forgive each other for the awful things that we do to one another. You've forgiven your parents because you never have to see them again. And, sure, you can dump your friends and never forgive them, but me? Not me. I have to forgive because I know that I can't escape my family. Eventually I will have to face them for something. Whether it be a wedding, funeral, in court, at Christmas, or over the Thanksgiving turkey, I will have to be in the same room as my family and in order to survive that constant contact I have to forgive them. I mean, sure, something big might happen and it might take me several years to be able to forgive, but eventually I will want to sit at that big turkey table again and I will have to forgive in order to do so."


Samantha sat quietly for several seconds, taking large gulps of her tea, probably to help wash down all that she was trying to digest in such a short moment. Then she said, looking at the floor as if reading a cue card, "I... I guess I have a letter that I need to write." Then her eyes lifted and met mine with a new light of joy in them. "I'm sorry to leave so soon, Liz, but I really need to go. I don't want this to be my mistake any longer than it has to be. Who knows, maybe someday I will want to share Thanksgiving with my friends again, but I need to let them know I forgive them first."


With that she gave me one of her billowy, rose scented hugs and disappeared through my door. I smiled as I watched her go, and then I picked up the phone to call my sister. It was about time I called to apologize for the mean thing I had said to her last year. I hope she forgives me.


Time for another Scribbit WriteAway contest. This time she is giving away a year's supply of Suave products. I'm really hoping to win because I could probably buy a new car for the amount of money I spend on mousse to tame my frizzies every year. The theme is "Thanksgiving brought to you by the letter F." Hurry, you only have till midnight to get your entry in.

Pumpkinland

This last Saturday we finally took the kids to Disneyland. Ok, so it wasn't really Disneyland, but it might as well have been. We took them to a pumpkin farm, you know a place where city slickers take their kids to commune with nature and buy overpriced pumpkins. Well, this year we went to Stocker Farms and this one went way beyond the typical petting zoo and hay ride. Check it out:
*

Instead of sand boxes they had a couple of these corn boxes. But, just like sand, it got in their shoes and pockets and eventually into my bed sheets and on my couch (they loved it).

They had a row of these spring horses that my kids love. Anytime we come upon a spring horse my kids will play on it for hours and tell me how much they wish we we had one because they love them so much. I finally bought one and.... yeah, they never play on ours.

Cookie tossing a pigskin.

*

Sweet Terror spent 10 minutes just delicately tapping on one nail 'till it finally went in.

*

*

If I weren't so afraid of nails getting stuck in and being shot out of my lawnmower I would love to have this kind of set up in the backyard. The kids (and Mr. Hot and I) stayed here for a long time enjoying the therapeutic effects of "whamming".

*

The barrel train:

*
Poor cheeks. There wasn't much there for infants to do.

*

*
Here are monster Man and Pablo, jammin' out on the pots and pans rack. Seriously, the boys couldn't get enough of this.
*

*
The Hamster Wheels. I'm such a klutz that when I went I proved the necessity of the helmet.

*

*
Proof that I was there (that is a spider painted on my cheek)

*

*

Cheeks, just chillin'

*

*

And what I didn't get pics of were:

The wagon ride

Pumpkin Cannon

Face Painting

Sack races

Bead necklace booth

And the cool fishing pond that was loaded with real fish. Sadly the only ones who weren't able to catch a fish were Mr. Hotness and I.

*

Oh, yeah, and there was also a pumpkin patch. But the pumpkins were ugly, green, and way over priced so we didn't buy any. We waited till we got home and bought some great ones at our favorite produce stand for super cheap.

*

Crafty SILS

It is always a little scary when a family member gets married. What if you don't like the person, or what if they aren't good to your mom/dad/brother/sister/the person they married? What if they don't like you? You will be stuck with them at every Christmas/Thanksgiving/reunion/birthday and you will be forced to be nice to them because they are "family." I come from a family of 8 children, who've all been married at least once. This means I've had my fair share of new in-laws to learn to love. I'd mention the in-laws I've been given on Mr. Hotness's side but then I'm on the other side of this issue. Then I'm the interloper, the new girl, the brother/son stealer (and yet, they've all been so kind to me despite this). But lets get back to me and the in-laws that are marrying into my family, namely my sister in-laws.

I am the only one in my family that lives more than 90 miles from my mom's house. I live 800 miles away. This means that I would occasionally get a call from one of my brothers with "the news." I always new why they were calling because they never called unless they were getting married (and now they only call when anouncing a pregnancy). It bothered them that my reaction was always less than enthusiastic. What they didn't understand was that, unlike the rest of the family, I didn't get a chance to meet these girls, to interrogate them, to test them, to look them in the eye before allowing them to enter my family.

Luckily my brothers have been really good at picking new family members for me. These girls (I can call them girls because I'm older and have more stretch marks) are awesome. So awesome in fact that I'm often envious of my brothers. Every time I go home to visit one of my sister in-laws has made me some new baby item that I can't live without. I posted before about my cute, skinny, peppy, funny, crafty sister in-law #2, Michelle, who sews and sells nursing covers, right? Well, now my cute, skinny, athletic, smart, crafty sister in-law #1, Jenilyn, is selling my all time favorite baby wrap carriers.

Jenilyn, a stay at home mother of 2 who loves to go rock climbing and hiking any chance she gets, has set up a blog called Sweet Baby Somethings where she sells Carry Me Wraps and nursing covers. The price for the carry wrap ($15-$16.50) is ubber cheap compared to anything else you will find online. She only has two styles currently available , but I'm sure if you were looking for a solid colored fabric, or something slightly different, Jenilyn would be willing to keep her eyes open for other fabrics (though it may affect the price).

If anything, just check out these sites to see what cute sister in-laws I have. Aren't you jealous? And trust me, I really don't mind having to go camping, swimming, and sharing early morning Christmas with these beauties, really I don't.

We Are Family

The other day I found myself in a Parent Trap/Twilight Zone experience. Imagine meeting a complete stranger but feeling like you are looking in a mirror, or looking at a face that you've already seen a thousand times before. It is quite surreal. I had this very experience as I walked up to the lady waiting for me at my Grandpa's house.

I had the baby in one arm and Grandpa's favorite cinnamon rolls in the other. I love seeing Grandpa. He is getting old enough that every year I worry that he might not be there the next time I come. I only have one grandparent, and he only has one arm. His knees are bad, his hearing is shot, he is practically blind, but his heart gets bigger and his actions sweeter with every year that passes. Today, though, Gramps isn't the only one I'm excited to see. Today I get to meet a long lost cousin for the very first time. As I come around to the back of the house, with both arms full, I am met with instantaneous smiles and a hug from Mitzi.

Mitzi is the oldest cousin I have on my mother's side but I had only met her once when I was about 2-3 years old. I have no memory of her outside two old photographs taken when she was about 14. My uncle divorced her mother when Mitzi was only about 4 months old and pretty much all contact with her ceased until she was 14. She came to visit at 14, when I was 2, and was never seen again. About a year ago she made contact with our family and just last Tuesday I met her for the first time. And it is as if I've always known her. How could I not know her, with her familiar face, familiar sense of humor, familiar everything? It was like looking at my mom, and my two other aunts all mixed together. She even loves to yard sale as much as the rest of us. The best part was watching her swap insults with my Gramps and joking about his stump with just as much love as any of us.

The best thing about Mitzi is that she has been put through a lot in her life, but she was absolutely pleasant. She was willing to talk about her past, her present, and her future with such candid honesty and good humor that she made me feel like we had always known and always loved each other. I wonder if I could have been as carefree and pleasant to a new family that I was just meeting for the first time. Maybe, if it was so obvious that I belonged...

No Turning Back

The following is my entry into Scribbit's Write-Away contest for June. I have this nasty penchant for sumbitting my entries too close to the deadline, and this one is no exception. The deadline is tomorrow, so if you want to enter too, get typing! The theme this month is "Going places."

No Turning Back

Oh great, Patti is going to be sick. She better not barf. I can't believe she still won't give me the window seat, she isn't even going to look out. She looks green.

"Ha ha ha ha, hey girl, your friend looks like she is going to puke! Ha ha ha!"

Stupid drunk man, why doesn't his wife make him shut up? Oops, maybe he is handicapped, or on a special medication. Still, that lady should tell him to stop laughing at us, it isn't Patti's fault she is sick.

"Lizzy, I'm going to be sitting back here with your dad and Bugga. Can you help Ben with Joseph?"

"Sure mom. Joseph, buckle up. Hey, Ben, wanna trade seats? I want to sit near the window."

Ben takes one look at Patti, another out his window, and quickly shakes his head. Darn! Anna has her earphones on and I swear she isn't looking at me on purpose.

"Ha ha ha! Haven't you ever flown on a plane before?

I put my head back and close my eyes, trying to ignore everything around me. I'll just ignore Patti, and that stupid laughing man. I'll ignore the fact that we are leaving New York and all the friends I've made. I'll just ignore the fact that dad is getting worse and that I'm worried about him making this flight. If I just close my eyes none of this will be real for just a moment. It feels so good to ignore..."

Rrrrruuummbbbbblllllleeeeeee. The plane is taking off. I continue ignoring everything, even that obnoxious man, but I open my eyes to look past Patti and out the window. Here we go! Going to Idaho, back where we started, back to family, back to an easier place for mom to be a single mother, back to the place where there is a cemetary plot, next to Grandma, waiting for dad. There will be new adventures, new friends, a new landscape, and new problems. I'm excited, scared, and numb. I always wanted to travel, but this isn't traveling, really. This is survival, and that is different. We aren't just leaving a place, or people, we are leaving a way of life, and things are never going to be the same, ever again. This is a one way ticket for our family. The trip will continue and each of us will take many different paths, but none of us can go back to where we were and ever have it be the same. Maybe if I explained all this to the laughing man he wouldn't laugh so hard...

The Weekend in Pictures

The Saturday before last was a gorgeous sunny day with temps reaching 80 degrees. We were sorely unprepared that lovely day. Not wanting to be unprepared this last weekend I packed the kids into the car after school on Friday and headed to the store to get (among many other things) some of these: A trip that should have taken us only 3 hours in total took us a whopping 6 1/2 hours because of the weather induced traffic jam we were stuck in. We managed to make it home with enough time for the kids to play in this: (Notice the bikes laying out after riding in the sunshine the day before)

Cookie said her face was cold. Sweet Terror refused to wear a coat because it is Spring.

While the snow kept falling (we had 4 inches on our deck railing that night) I stayed up till midnight making cupcakes, cakes, and more cupcakes, for Saturday's Cub Scout Cake Auction. Following a link from Scribbit I found this great idea on flicker and made these Settlers of Catan Cupcakes. They turned out pretty cool if you ask me (considering it was after midnight by the time I finished them). If I make them again there are several things I would do different but I'm not complaining.

Then, Saturday, I went above and beyond anything I've ever attempted before in the cake arena. Now, you must know that I am an awful cake decorator. On my kids' birthdays I usually make them cakes out of stacked and decorated Little Debbie Snack cakes because I am so bad at cake decorating. As soon as my knife gets near a cake it crumbles. I don't even like cake so maybe that has something to do with it. However, this awesome site called Instructables had this cake design for a 3D dragon and the instructions were so good I thought I'd give it a try (plus I did go to that cake decorating class with Cookie for her Keepers Club). I gotta say, I pretty impressed with myself. Check out his Apple Fruit Roll Up wings. If it weren't for Cookie prodding me along he would have just been a dinosaur (I have problems staying focused on things that take longer than an hour to make), but she encouraged me all the way to completion.

And isn't it so appropriate that Cookie made a Cookie Monster Cake? We made this one up all on our own. For the face we melted white and semi sweet chocolate and spread the shapes for the eyes and mouth on wax paper. We were going to make real cookies for him to eat but I was so tired of baking that Cookie brilliantly thought of using the tops of our left over spice cupcakes with a few chocolate chips pushed in for faux cookies. Good girl, Cookie!

We also cleaned a LOT. I'm sorry, but I just don't think regular cake is worth all the mess we made in the kitchen. And I must have washed my hands a gazillion times.

Saturday morning DSSH and I went to the Seattle Temple and then out to lunch. And Saturday night we took the whole family to the cake auction/appetizer potluck/dance activity at church. It was so much fun dancing with my husband. It has been far too long since we've done that. One of my favorite memories of DSSH and I falling in love has to do with a magical night of dancing. But that is for another post. Oh, and at the auction I spent all of DSSH's money bidding on a pumpkin cheesecake that the baby just HAD TO HAVE NOW!!! And, An Ordinary Mom, it is going fast so if you want a slice I suggest you hurry on over. =)

Sunday we went to church and then I came home to do even more baking for an unexpected baptism that evening. I am so done with baking today. We may just eat cold cereal for every meal, well except for me. I will be eating my pumpkin cheesecake. MMmmmmm!

And now it is haling. Monster Man says they are white ants dancing on the ground.

Resistance is Futile

My first introduction with blogging was when I read an article about the thousands of dollars that could be made just by sitting at home and writing about what you love. Sounded awesome. I tried to set up a blog, already dreaming of the millions I'd be making, but couldn't figure out how to get it up and running. Then a good friend kept telling me I needed to be an advice columnist so I thought I would set up a blog for that. After 5 failed attempts at getting those blogs up and running I finally called my buddy, Lucy, to come over and help me figure out the mysteries of the blog generators. Lucy, unsatisfied with the very impersonal advice blog, kept pestering, uh... I mean encouraging me, to set up a personal blog. I would smile and and politely say that it just wasn't my thing. After awhile, though, I finally decided to give personal blogging a try. Just like I'm always telling my kids at the dinner table, I tried it and I liked it. Once converted I set out to get recruits of my own, like a pyramid scheme. I've been bugging my amazing Super Sister for months now to set up a blog and FINALLY she has been suckered into this thing. If you get some time today stop by her new blog and say hi. I'm so excited to see what she does with it.

Here is her web site for Classical Education

Of Pizzas and Memories

Of Pizza and Memories

(On the left is my sister Zoey. She always manages to get the most toppings on her pizza and it always turns out delicious! On the right is my awesome mom)

The dough became soft and supple as I kneaded it, sprinkling flour on it now and then. In my head I could hear the words my mother spoke when I was just old enough to reach the counter if I stood on a bucket, “That’s right, fold it, push it, fold and push. Now turn it like this, and fold it, and push it. Keep going, it takes a lot of work but you can do it.” As I roll out the dough I smile and remember my dad wearing his big white apron and tossing dough high over his head. I never was able to toss my dough, but I take great pride in being able to roll a perfect circle every time. Homemade pizza, it plays an important part in our family. Every Christmas Eve our too large family gathers in my mother’s too small kitchen and we create pizzas with a passion. Children smile with pride as they are trusted and allowed to make their very own pizza with what ever they want on it, and I’ve yet to see a child put vegetables on one. I don’t wait for Christmas to make homemade pizzas, though. We make pizza in our own home almost every week and it always makes me smile as the actions and smells involved bring to mind so very many lovely memories. But something strange is happening tonight. The joy has somehow been tampered with. As I sprinkle the aromatic garlic salt on my husband’s extra pepperoni with black olives, red onions, and extra cheese, pizza my mouth doesn’t wet with saliva. And rather than take that extra sniff of pleasure when crushing the oregano in my hand, I turn my head with close to a heave in my stomach. What has come over me? In a bit of a confused daze I prepare myself a tomato and lettuce sandwich while the pizzas finish baking. Of course, as we all sit to eat, the family expresses great concern over the fact that I am forgoing pizza and eating a simple sandwich.
“Honey, why aren’t you having pizza with the rest of us?”
“I don’t know. For some reason pizza just doesn’t sound good to me at all.”
Suddenly I drop my sandwich, stare at my husband, my jaw hanging a little limply.
“Honey,” I say in a quite voice, “I think I must be pregnant.”

And I was right. Now I have a new favorite memory to add to the making of homemade pizzas. (How's that for a surprise ending?)