Photo Shoot

We wanted to get pictures of Evelyn with her mommy and her daddy. Things started out really cute, but it didn't take very long before Evelyn started dozing off. (We were up late last night with play practice.)

We only got this shot because we had her sing "I love to see the temple."

...And the fingers are in the mouth. Ah well.

Missionowies

Last Friday we had the opportunity to feed the missionaries. Since Evelyn is a little shy with strangers, I decided to prep her for the coming visit. I told her the missionaries were coming to eat with us. Missionaries, I told her, are people who go out and tell people about Jesus. They are also a lot like Jesus; they help people and make them feel happy. She was enchanted, and the rest of the day prattled on about "Eating Jesus," or something to that effect.
When the missionaries showed up, Evelyn was in love as soon as they shook her hand. I kept trying to tell her that you aren't supposed to flirt with the missionaries, but she didn't get it. She monopolized their attention the whole night, demanding to throw balls with them and getting involved with the spiritual thought they left us: "God needs us to share the gospel with our neighbors..." "yes...uh huh!" she'd say, nodding her head seriously.
Now, every time we see any guys in suits (ie. at church, at JCW's when all the business men are at lunch, the doctor....) she gets all excited and tugs at my pant leg, points and squeals: "Mama!! Missionowies!!!"

Deficient Kitchenaid

For my birthday last month, Michael bought me my very own, beautiful, black and shiny $300 Kitchenaid! It slices, it dices, it mixes....it STINKS!!!! Pardon me, I must explain that last comment. We made a beautiful set of cookies; golden, perfect...I sunk my teeth into the soft, warm, delectable moistness, only to run, gagging to my sink to spit out the offender. My cookies tasted like machine oil. If you don't know how this tastes, go lick your the oil spot on your driveway.
I decided it must be a fluke. A few days later, when I could no longer remember that foul taste, I tried again. With the same disastrous results. Five batches of cookies and one batch of pumpkin bread later, I decided it must be the kitchen aid has a leak or something. So we packed up the kitchenaid in Evelyn's colored boats (the packing styrofoam) and we exchanged it for a different machine. We were a little hesitant to try the new kitchenaid however. Both Michael and I were starting to taste remnants of the oil in everything. Evelyn however pouted daily that so many perfectly good cookies (according to her opinion) ended up in the garbage.
Finally we used the new kitchenaid. I couldn't stomach any of it. Michael made a batch of cookies outside the kitchenaid and compared. He thought both batches tasted much better then the previous kitchenaid's cookies. I started wondering if my problem was psychosomatic.
The next night I slaved all afternoon on a batch of my mom's winning potato soup. Just as I was ready to call Michael in for dinner, I leaned over and smelled the soup. "Strange," I thought. "This smells just like those cookies. I must be insane." But just to be sure, Michael and I sampled the soup. Nasty, Yucky, Putrescence!
We finally narrowed down all the ingredients to see what was common to all the recipes. It came down to the flour. So I smelled our flour, but it smelled just fine! Michael suggested I wet it down to see if that made the smell come out. So I added water and some salt, and the smell just about knocked my socks off! Our flour was RANCID! This was not old flour, we had bought just before opening it to make that first set of cookies.
We had to throw out the potato soup. Michael bought me a Hot-and-Ready to make me feel better. But at least we found out that I didn't forget how to cook after all. So before you return your Kitchenaid, check your flour.

For the Love of Diapers

This whole week Evelyn has been asking me to sit on the toilet. "Please, please, potty, Mommy!" I had the nagging feeling that she was ready to potty-train. Yech. Though I let her sit on her potty-seat any time she asked, I persisted in my thinking: "Oh no you don't! Not with my new carpet!!!!"

Well, I believe I lost my opportunity. The last two days Evelyn has decided she LOVES diapers. This love sprang up from the discovery that every time she got a diaper change, Star Kitty and Tabby could get one too! Now she has no desire to sit on the potty, because I told her in no uncertain terms that her kitties absolutely could NOT sit on the potty seat.

Green Eggs and Ham

One of Evelyn's favorite books is "Green Eggs and Ham." She can "read" almost the whole thing.

"Sam, No Ham! No box, no yip-yip, no house, no squeak! No choo choo, no, no Sam! No Egg, no Ham! Mmmmm....Yummy, Ham! Thank you, thank you Sam!"

It's adorable. The other day I was going to cook her some eggs, and she said, "Ee, eggs? Ham, Mommy?" ("ee" is her way of saying green.") So I cooked her very own green eggs and ham. And she DID like her green eggs and ham! Thank you Thank you, Sam!!!