Crazy Hair Day and A Birthday Shout Out to Tess

It's Spirit Week at my kid's school.  Today was Crazy Hair Day.  We braided Princess' hair the night before in a bunch of tiny little braids.  In the morning I took out all the braids and then put her hair in 4 crazy ponytails.  For Cy we went for the spiky look.  He loved it.  They thought it was a lot of fun and proceeded to act crazy until they left for school. 

So fun!

Also, I would be remiss if I didn't give a shout out to my ever young, older sister Theresa who celebrated her 45th (?) birthday yesterday.  Now, there's a girl who has had herself a few crazy hair days.  Right, Tess?  In case you haven't seen this post that I did for her birthday a couple years back here you go.

Enjoy!

Friday, October 24, 2008

Da Nuh, Nuh, Nuh, Nuh, They say it's your Birthday......

Hello all! And greetings from sunny Arizona. This is Theresa's baby sister, Amy, here, and no I'm not a baby, I'm actually 29 years old. I thought I better clarify that for all of Theresa's friends. I know it can get confusing how she always refers to me as her baby sister. Makes you wonder how old our Mom is, doesn't it? No worries, she quit having babies at 39. No, crazy 70 year old giving birth in our family! Phew!

(Yeah, she's sitting on the toilet, but she's not doing what you think she is, at least

I don't think so....)

Alrighty then, to veer back to my original reason for doing a guest post on Theresa's blog, today is Theresa's 45th birthday!!! 45 years ago today Theresa Marie Vorwaller Fisher came into this world.........hang on.........my sister Kolette has just informed me that Theresa is only 42. Oops, my bad. So 42 years ago today Theresa came into this world. It was a dark and stormy night. Utah had just seen it's worst snowstorm in 34 years. The roads were covered in black ice and my parents skidded off to the side of the road on their way to the hospital. The car got stuck in a ditch. My mom was in active labor. The contractions were less than 30 seconds apart. She had no choice but to put her feet up on the dashboard and push with all her might. As her head popped out, my Dad caught Theresa before she hit the floor. He wrapped her up in his coat, handed her to my mom, and went for help. That is the story of how my dear sister Theresa, was born in a ditch somewhere on the back roads of Utah......well not really. I made that up. She wasn't really born in a ditch, although tell me that wasn't a awesome story! How cool would that have been! Theresa was born in a nice and cozy hospital, although according to Mom, she didn't even realize that she was in labor with Theresa until her neighbor told her to stop cleaning and get to the hospital. So, technically, she could've been born in a ditch if my Mom had waited much longer. Hmmm...let's just go with my version of the story it's so much more dramatic!

(Me, Yvette, and Theresa striking a pose! I've already got more flair at my young age than both of them put together. What's up with that?!? I mean seriously

check out that hip thrust!)

Theresa is my elder by 13 years. She was around for my birth. She timed our Mom's contractions when she was in labor with me. (I'm another one that could've been born in a ditch had our Mom waited any longer, but that's a story for another guest post, back to the birthday girl). When I was eight years old, Theresa went on a mission. We used to write back and forth about my hair. She loved how long my hair was and she would always ask me long my hair was now. She was jealous and envious of my hair. But that's okay because she was my older sister and I was jealous and envious of everything about her. I can honestly say that a very young age I worshiped the ground she walked on. I remember her doing my makeup and hair. There's a rumor floating around that at one point I stole her makeup and hid it because I was mad at her. I don't believe, I would never do anything that devious or ill spirited. The makeup was never recovered, no evidence, no proof, no case. Total rumor! Theresa and Yvette (another older sister) used to put on that song Maneater and I used to dance, much to their delight. I sure I could be a pain in the arse, but let's face it, Theresa was infatuated with me. She adored me. I mean, really, who didn't. Sorry, I digress.

( Awe shucks! Aren't we just two of the cutest things ever! I think the glasses tinted in the sun, or the flash from a camera...Mom's idea.)

I can't remember how old I was when Theresa moved out and started her own life up in Utah. But I do remember being devastated. Once, she took me up to Utah with her. I got to stay in her apartment with her and her roommates. I don't remember a lot of the specifics, but I do remember having a great time, and loving every minute of it. I also remember thinking how cool it was that Theresa could drive with just her knees. Yep, she's got mad skills!

(Getting married is apparently part of the whole starting your own life thing)

borns. Very kind of you)

Theresa, on this, your 45th birthday,...oops, your 42nd birthday, I want to say Happy Birthday. I love you, admire you, learn from you, and want to be like you. You have taught me much over the years and while we've had our bumps in the road in the past, I am grateful for the friends we've become. I look forward to many more years of endless laughter, merciless teasing, and general good times. My only regret is that we live so far away. I hope you had a wonderful birthday and many, many more!

(Don't know why it looks like I want to get away from her?!? Maybe it was those glasses. Seriously Theresa, what were you thinking? Did Mom make you pick them? I blame all my bad glasses on her, that way no one questions my fashion sense, it's just easier that way. Sorry Mom!)

(She probably made me that birthday cake. I remember one time she made me a Panda birthday cake. I'm telling you mad skills!)

(and to end it all....a view from the rear..."my humps, my humps, my humps, my humps, my lovely lady lumps, in the back and in the front, check me out")

HAPPY BIRFDAY TWESSA!!!!!!!!!!!

Easy Peasy Peanut Butter

My sister, Kolette, has a friend.  We'll call her Shari, because well, her name is Shari.  Shari is famous, at least around the Indio/Bermuda Dunes/La Quinta area, for her homemade peanut butter.  She'll whip up a batch in her Vitamix (drool, drool) and then give some to my sister who hoards it in the back of her refrigerator.  She won't even share it with her kids.  Selfish?  Maybe.  Smart?  Definitely.

While I was visiting Kolette during the summer we stopped by Shari's house so she could pick up a fresh batch of peanut butter.  My sister put me in charge of the container with express instructions not to drop it, shake it, taste it, or even look at it.  I was gingerly holding it in my lap when my curiosity got the better of me.  I sneaked a sideways glance at my sister.  She was busy focusing on the road.  So I ever so slowly undid the lid and dipped my finger into the peanut butter.  I turned a little towards the window, so she couldn't see what I was doing and I sucked that peanut butter off my finger as fast as I could!

It was like a party in my mouth!  DELICIOUS!  CREAMY!  SWEET AND SALTY!  Oh, it was so so good!

I popped the lid back on a little to fast and my sister (who has a canines sense of hearing, great now I'm going to get in trouble for comparing her to a dog) whipped her head around, took one look at my face, and she knew.  I quickly felt my face for any signs of stray peanut butter, nothing. How could she possibly know?!?!  Oh, but she did!  The guilt must have shown on my face clear as day! 

She grasped the container out of my hands and ripped off the lid.  There was my finger indent.  Mocking me.  Proving my guilt.  I hung my head in shame, as my sister threatened me with never tasting that glorious peanut butter again!

Being the loving sister that she is, Kolette later relented and allowed me to share Shari's peanut butter with her.  I was allowed one spoonful a day.  Isn't she kind...

Knowing that I wasn't going to get my fill from Kolette's stash, I went straight to the source and asked Shari what the recipe was.  She said, "Oh you know, I throw in some cashews, some peanuts, and a little bit of brown sugar, that's all."  I thought that sounded easy enough so when I got home I decided to give it a try.

Now, I'm a measurement kind of girl, so I came up with a recipe using the ingredients that she gave me.  It's really sweet, simple, and to the point.

First, pull out your handy dandy food processor or if you're really lucky, your Vitamix.  Shari does hers in a Vitamix and it comes out super creamy.  I only have a lowly food processor, so mine doesn't come out quite as creamy but it's still pretty smooth.

Next, grab your ingredients: Cashews, Peanuts, and Brown Sugar.

If you're trying to be good, like us, you can substitute the brown sugar with the Splenda Brown Sugar Blend.  When I use Splenda I do cut the measurement in half because it's a little sweeter.

Put 1 cup cashews, 1 cup peanuts, and 1/2 cup brown sugar (or 1/4 cup if you're using Splenda) into your food processor bowl.  Put the lid on and pulse away.

Grind up those nuts really good.  Keep pulsing.

Take a break and use a spatula to get the nuts down off the side and up from the bottom.  Then do some more pulsing!

Pretty soon it goes from looking like graham crackers crumbs to real peanut butter.  When it starts to ball up, you're almost there.

See how it's all balled up and creamy looking?  Yep, looks good to me!

It should be warm and creamy.  Scrape it out with a spatula and put it in a tupperware container with a lid.  Store it in the refrigerator.  (It stays good FOREVER, when stored correctly.)

And there you have it!  Easy Peasy Peanut Butter!

Dave does NOT like to run out of this.  In fact I get in trouble if I allow our household to be without it for any extended period of time. (extended, like 1 day!) 

Big thanks to Shari for sharing her recipe and to my sister, Kolette.  Your selfish peanut butter hoarding tendencies motivated me to learn how to make my own and to you I will be forever grateful!

Now, go make yourself some yummy homemade Peanut Butter!

Enjoy!

And, your welcome!

Easy Peasy Peanut Butter

1 cup cashews

1cup peanuts

1/2 cup brown sugar

or 

1/4 cup Splenda Brown Sugar Blend

Pulse in food processor or Vitamix to desired consistency.   

Linking this post up to:

http://todayscreativeblog.net/get-your-craft-on-link-party/

Cotton Balls = Love?

Showing that she still has what it takes to dominate a paper route.

 This is my sister Kolette.

AKA: Doko

AKA: Little Raisin

AKA:  The Mom

Look Mom!  No Hands!

She is older than me by six years and has taught me some very important life lessons over the years.  She taught me how to get a mini-van stuck on a cement parking spot divider in the Target parking lot.  Then she taught me how to look desperate enough so a group of Hispanic men (after they were done laughing at us) would take pity on us and lift the van off the cement block.  She taught me how to give (and receive) a dead arm/leg.  From her, I learned how to flirt (she was a pro!), how to pick the smallest (and the easiest) room to clean during chore time, and that popcorn dipped into nacho cheese sauce while at the movies is DA BOMB!

Kolette was with me at my infamous mission physical, where my eye condition was finally given a proper name.  She then got such a kick out of that name that she proceeded to tell everyone in our family the story of my large protruding eyes. She also introduced me to the pain that is waxing and I ain't talking eyebrows here people!

I talk to her at least once a day.  Usually it's 3-4 times a day.  When Dave asks me what we talk about I can't really relate everything back to him word for word, so I just say "stuff".  He doesn't get it.  I call her for advice on mothering, being a wife, cleaning, food (okay, well usually not food.  Doko doesn't cook much because when school starts she pretty much has to live in her car). 

Here she is giving me pointers on how to ride a bike since I was a bit rusty.

I truly value her opinion and advice, which is why I've taken the recent life lesson that she has taught me to heart and have started to implement it into my life.

Buying your child's teacher's love.

Most often your child's teacher will put out a wishlist for the parents, of things she/he needs or desires.  Kolette taught me to get her/him whatever they ask for (if you can afford to do so) and to DO IT IN BULK.  Her simple strategy is that the more you help out the teacher, the more they will love and adore your child.  The teacher will know that they can depend on you, and their trust and adoration is sure to transfer onto your child! 

So, recently when Cy's teacher requested some cotton balls, room snacks, toilet paper rolls, and composition notebooks, I thought, "Hey, I could do that!" Off I went to our local Wally World and Sam's!  I got her 7 notebooks (she only asked for 1), 3 bags of cotton balls (200 count), a big container of cheese balls, and I am in the process of collecting all the toilet paper rolls I can find!  She was shocked!  She was thrilled!  Dare I say, she was in LOVE!  YES!  MISSION ACCOMPLISHED!

Buying the love and affection of Cy's teacher one cotton ball at a time!

Thank you Kolette!  Consider another valuable life lesson, learned!

*Still waiting on the wishlist for Princess' teacher.  Don't worry, I haven't forgotten about purchasing her love and affection as well.

Me?!?....A Pituitary Gland?!?

My sister Kolette has kind of a weird nickname for me. My oldest sister Theresa started calling me Amy Lou when she was on her mission. The nickname has evolved into Louie, Louie-patuie, and just plain Lou. Somehow, Kolette (also known as Doko, but that's a story for another time) has managed to take the nickname to new heights. I don't know when it started, and she claims she got the idea from Louie-patuie, but Kolette started calling me Pituitary Gland.

Do you know what a Pituitary Gland is? From Wikipedi:

In vertebrate anatomy the pituitary gland, or hypophysis, is an endocrine gland about the size of a pea and weighing 0.5 g (0.02 oz.), in humans. It is a protrusion off the bottom of the hypothalamus at the base of the brain, and rests in a small, bony cavity (sella turcica) covered by a dural fold (diaphragma sellae). The pituitary is functionally connected to the hypothalamus by the median eminence via a small tube called the infundibular stem (Pituitary Stalk). The pituitary fossa, in which the pituitary gland sits, is situated in the sphenoid bone in the middle cranial fossa at the base of the brain. The pituitary gland secretes nine hormones that regulate homeostasis.  

Here is the link if you really want to learn more.  Fascinating right!?!  RIGHT!  So, this is a picture of a Pituitary gland:

Image Courtesy of Google Images.  Looks just like me, don't you think?

 
And this is me:

Shoot we could be twiners!

So, do you see the resemblance?



*I will post my new project tomorrow!

Another Oldie But Goody!

Because I really don't know if I'll be able to post while I'm away, here's another oldie but goody.  Originally posted April 2009.

Good Luck Gerrit

My sister, Mikol, recently got married over Easter Weekend, and me being my amnesic self, completely forgot to bring my camera to all the major events, ie. the rehearsal dinner, the wedding, the reception, etc. I did however, remember to bring my camera to the Easter Egg Hunt at my other sister's house, and this is a picture of the happy newlyweds.

Does Gerrit look a little shell-shocked to you?

I started thinking about him today and about his entrance into the Vorwaller family.

I am the youngest of seven kids, 1 boy and 6 girls. My older sister died when she was still an infant and so it has always been just the 5 of us girls. The "SISTER'S" are as follows, in order: Theresa, Yvette, Kolette, Mikol, and me. We are a loud obnoxious bunch when we all get together. We can make each other laugh til we pee our pants and we can make each other cry til it feels like our hearts are about to break. I would do anything, ANYTHING, for my sister's. I would lay down my life for them. We have a bond that surpasses all harsh words, bridezilla moments, and thoughtless acts.

All of us have very strong personalities. We are independent by nurture. Our parents taught us to take care of ourselves. They stressed the importance of common sense and practical know-how. When we all started driving the Patriarch made sure that we all knew how to check the oil, the tire pressure, and how to change a tire. They taught us how to balance our checkbooks, save money, and basically be smart with our finances. Above all they taught us that where friends may come and go, we will always have our sister's.

Each new male that has entered this estrogen dominated clan has had to pass under each sister's withering judgment to see if he could pass inspection. Each time we wondered, are you good enough for my sister? Upon approval, the next question was raised....can you handle a Vorwaller? We are not an easy group to deal with. Our razor sharp sarcasm can cut you to the core and no goof up, no matter how small, will escape our desire to have a good hearty laugh at your expense.

Gerrit, being the brave soul that he is, has married the most independent of us all. Mikol has two degrees, owns her own car, and her own condo. She has traveled to Spain, BY HERSELF, and has been supporting herself for years. She has been living life happily single for some time now and the fact that Gerrit got her to settle down is an accomplishment. However, for the most part Gerrit has had very limited contact with Mikol's extended family. He knows Yvette and her clan pretty well and him and I have had numerous conversations on the phone, but other than that, Gerrit's foray's into Vorwaller family functions is uncharted territory.

This makes me wonder, as Gerrit begins his safari into the Vorwaller jungle, can he handle it?

Can he handle the Christmas breakfast that sends the weaker ones running to the bathroom for relief? Can he handle late night card games that get loud and at times vicious (ahem...flicking my head YVETTE)? Will he go to bed and wonder when is Mikol going to join him or will he realize that he will long be in snoozeville when Mikol finally calls it quits with cards? Will he be able to accept the fact that if he does ANYTHING wrong one or all of us will inevitably hear about it and will mentally put him on the naughty chair til he redeems himself? Can he handle the humor and jokes at his expense, which are bound to happen? Will he be able to accept that our parents can do no wrong, and that the Patriarch can do everything? Will he be able to hear "My dad said, and my dad does it like this", without shuddering in dismay? Can he deal with sister-in-laws who occasionally wander around half dressed? (We try to keep it modest, but hey it happens...ask Mitch) Will he realize that Mikol can say mean things about us all she wants to him, but if he utters one word in agreement or comes up with a comment of his own he is likely to be in the doghouse for days? (Nobody is allowed to talk bad about the sister's, except for the sister's...that's common knowledge.)

I truly hope that Gerrit is able to tackle this rough, fun, lively, and loving terrain with dignity and grace. Well, maybe not with too much dignity and grace, otherwise what would we sister's have to laugh about!

Good luck Gerrit and Welcome to the Jungle!

Old Post, New Blog

I'm getting ready to go on a quick trip so I don't really have time to write a new post, and I am 2 days behind my goal of posting everyday.  I also completely failed to post Valentine's Day, and what a disaster it was, until my hubby got home and saved the day.  Anyhow, I thought I would put a post on here that I'd written on my other blog.  Enjoy!  And I will try to post while I'm away!  Originally posted November 2008

Large Protuding Eyes

In the fall and spring of 1999-2000 I was attending BYU and also preparing to submit my mission papers. As part of your mission papers you are required to undergo a physical to make sure you are healthy enough to withstand the rigors of mission life (and trust me, it is pretty rigorous). Kolette came with me to the BYU Health Center on the day of my appointment which shall hereafter be called The Fateful Day. I filled out all necessary paperwork and the physical began. The doctor poked and prodded. Had me stick out my tongue. Felt my neck and my breasts (both for lumps, I'm assuming). Knocked my knees with her handy little tool to see if my legs would kick on their own (love to make legs to that, it is such a cool reflex), and made me breathe into a tube (because of my history of asthma). After breathing into the tube the doctor proclaimed, "No, biking mission for you!". Awww, shucks! I was soooo disappointed!

As the doctor was finishing up the examination on The Fateful Day she looked at me and said, "Have you always had those large protruding eyes?"

Kolette is in the corner sitting on the chair. I look at her and notice that she is having a hard time breathing. I start to get concerned until I realize that her breathing is just fine. She's turning blue from trying to hold in her laughter. I turn my head away in disgust and look at the doctor.

"Um, yes."

"Oh, okay. It's just that large protruding eyes can be a sign of a thyroid problem. So, if your large protruding eyes developed recently then I would've tested your thyroid to see if your large protruding eyes are from a thyroid problem, but since you've always had those large protruding eyes then I won't worry about your large protruding eyes." (Yes, she did say large protruding eyes that many times and Yes, Kolette did double over in laughter as we left the BYU health clinic. In fact, I think I even saw a little pee trickle down her leg she was laughing so hard.)

I was aghast! Me? Large protruding eyes? NO! I've heard my eyes called big and round but never large and protruding!

My large protruding eyes quickly became a family joke and at get together's large protruding eyes could be heard being thrown around as casually as hello and dr. pepper please.

Now, I took the teasing in good stride. My eyes are large. There is no getting around that. But, protruding??? Please! That doctor didn't know what she was talking about.

So, imagine my horror when I looked at these pictures I took with Cyrus today, (he was begging for some attention since my butt was firmly glued to the computer chair) and realized that MY EYES PROTRUDE! After viewing this freakish phenomenon on the camera I quickly ran into the bathroom to view my eyes and their protrudishness. I looked from every possible angle and yes, I will admit that from the side, my eyes give off the APPEARANCE of protrusion but looking head-on their not too bad, until I SMILED!

Apparently, I am an EYE-BUGGER OUTER. What you've never heard of this disorder? Hmm...let me enlighten you. An EYE-BUGGER OUTER is one who when they really want to convey extreme joyous emotion through the medium of film has a tendency, when smiling hard, to bug out (pop out) their eyes. I had no idea I suffered from this rare disorder until today.

So you see, the doctor completely misdiagnosed me!

She interpreted my hard smile and my excitement over my mission call for a possible thyroid problem when it was in actually EYE-BUGGER OUTER DISORDER. In case any of you are thinking that you suffer from this same disorder, I feel for you. Let's band together and start a support group.

I feel like I also need to share that I think I've found a cure. It's not easy, and it will take a lot out of you. It's called the soft smile. Instead of trying to convey all your joy and excitement in a picture you must try to dial it down a notch. So go for 50% wattage instead of 100% on your smile and all will be well. Phew! I know! Just when you thought all was lost....but, no worries. I'm here for you. Practice in front of your mirror. Take some test shots with the camera and I promise you will be able to avoid the large protruding eyes! And no, I've have not come up with a cure for the DISAPPEARING EYES DISORDER. My mom suffers from this one. Mom, I love you and I'm working on a cure! I promise! Don't lose hope!

So there you have it. My large protruding eyes was actually a disorder. I have setbacks here and there but I'm working on it.

It's okay. Don't feel bad. You didn't know it was a disorder. I forgive you for all the teasing.


In Other News:

Here are some fun pictures from this afternoon and examples of a soft smile in case you needed one to try at home.

(Cyrus got a hold of the camera and wanted to take a picture of me so here is one of my chest. Lovely, no?)

(Here is Carma's chest as well. Hmm....starting to see a pattern.)

(This is what happens when you are on the computer instead of supervising your kids. Carma got busy doing some artwork with a pen that I think I distractedly handed to her. Nice.)

(Also because my butt was glued to the computer chair Cyrus had to jump on it to give me hugs.)

(Soft smile example #1. Notice, no protrusion)

(Soft smile example #2. Once again, no protrusion. I think I'm getting the hang of it!)

Why This Blog

This is Yvette.  She's ten years older than me.  We do everything 10 years apart.  We were born 10 years apart, got married 10 years apart, and had our first babies...you guessed it....ten years apart.  I learn from her mistakes.  That's why I was born in April instead of January, got married in August instead of February, and had my first baby in October instead of December. 

I have a sister, well I have 4 of them, but I have one in particular that is always telling me I should write a book.  I think she's crazy, and frankly the thought of writing a book stumps me.  Where do you start?   What do you write about?  However, I love to write and do creative things, so I thought "a blog".  I can do a blog.  So this is my compromise with my sister.  It's not a book but at least I'm writing.  I'm going to try and post on this daily, except for the weekends.  It will be about my thoughts, my life, and my projects.  This blog is dedicated to Yvette because she told me too, and I always do what I'm told! :)