easy appetizer

Our summertime schedule always seems to fill up with potlucks, picnics and parties. I love it. We had a neighborhood block party this week. We actually didn't end up going, but had every intention of attending. I made up a batch of these appetizers for the soiree and ended up sending them with Cori to his young men's activity. One of those nights, you know? 

But, I digress. These babies only require about 15 minutes of prep and another 13 minutes in the oven. And one batch will make around 4 dozen pieces (depending on how many sausages are in your pack of lit'l smokies) . AND they disappear. Fast. I never have leftovers.

Crescent Wrapped Sausage Bites

1 package Hillshire Farm Lit'l Smokies

2 cans refrigerated crescent roll dough (8 pieces per can)

1. Using a pizza cutter, cut each triangle of crescent dough into three elongated triangles. See picture above.
2. Place a sausage link at the wide end of each triangle and roll to the narrow end. Arrange on a cookie sheet. I can usually get the whole lot onto one baker's half sheet.
3. Bake according to directions on the crescent roll can. You may need to leave them in a little longer- just watch for the tops to brown.

They are pretty yummy. I'm not much of a sausage lover- a great disappointment to my husband- but I really like these. And it is an easy combo that you can play with. I made them into snails for a Halloween party a couple years ago. I wrapped the dough around one end of the sausage (instead of down the middle) to make the shell and then made antennae using halved toothpicks and chunks of cheese.

some progress

carrot tops

Temperatures have finally stabilized in the 60*-70* range. Though it is still unseasonably cool, the rise has given a much needed boost to our patio garden. We have occasional days where the mercury climbs to around 80. On these days it seems like everything grows an inch. I can only imagine what our garden would be like if it were warmer... But as it is, things are coming along.

In the upside down patio garden we have herbs planted on top and tomatoes and peas hanging beneath. (The cucumbers officially bit the dust a while ago. The prognosis regarding their demise: stem damage and low temperatures.) The basil plants survived from the greenhouse transplant. The rest of the herbs we started back in March didn't stick around. So we planted all new seeds for the oregano, cilantro and parsley. It needs to be a little warmer yet before I plant the rosemary.

basil

sugar peas

heavenly tomatoes

We've got two pots of bell peppers. The seedlings we had started are doing well in their new home. We planted pumpkins and watermelons in another large container. The pumpkins are finally taking off. And one lonely watermelon seedling has just broken through. We'll see how that goes. We seriously need it to be about 8* hotter.

The first Spring/Summer in a house is always interesting. The ground comes alive and you get to see what all the previous owners have planted over the years. Though there are some things we would like to change and add, there have been lovely things blooming around the house.


Like these primrose bushes, for example. About 3 weeks ago, I was completely ready to take a chainsaw to them. But now, they are laden with a thousand blooms and I love them. 

It will be interesting to see how much we are able to harvest from our patio this summer. If it doesn't heat up enough, we may not get much. I really love having everything in pots. Watering and weeding are a breeze. One day, we'll have a bona fide/dug-in-the-earth/imense garden for our children to fret and labor over. But for now, and for it being our first foray into the gardening world, we're happy with the progress.

gracie's 'toodle belt'

There is a point... somewhere toward the end

This train of thought starts a few weeks ago when I came across this quote in the Sundance Summer catalogue:

I miss Gene Kelly.

I miss that rare time in American life when we had a character that exemplified sheer talent, joie de vivre, and can-do attitude. A character that also represented what America was--or at least thought of itself. And all so effortlessly...

Have you seen An American in Paris lately or Singing in the Rain? He could dance, he could sing, and he loved who he was and what America was.

What do we have now? Do we miss this?

Ah well. It is Summer and isn't Summer supposed to be a celebration of color, change and hope? And with a smile?

I miss Gene Kelly.

Robert Redford

Confession time. I had a total celebrity crush on Gene Kelly as a teenager. I watched his movies often. And not in a have-something-on-in-the-background kind of way. I cleared my cluttered schedule, baby. Though I think Redford was trying to make some kind of statement about the state of our great country in the quote above, it got me thinking about my old boyfriend.

I took tap classes in college. I had received a little tap instruction through my musical performance ventures in High School and had always wanted to learn more. Plus, I have always held out hopes that when we get to the afterlife the famously talented from among us will have studios where we can go and learn at their feet. I was determined to have, at least, a time step and a shim sham to my repertoire in preparation. 

But, really. Tap dancing in heaven? I hope so. I hope there is also a back nine on some celestial golf course where I can play a round with my Grandpa W*. And if there is golf course, certainly there will be downhill skiing. Are there troupes performing the most brilliant interpretations of Our Town, or Death of a Salesman, or Hamlet? President Monson quotes plays often enough to convince me of their eternal endurance. Surely the music playing in the heavenly realm isn't on an eternal loop of MoTab and Michael McLean. Do heavenly beings still reflect on LaBohem, or Alexander Calder mobiles, or Frank Lloyd Wright architecture? And if there is art, there must necessarily be interpretation and discussion. Are there critics? Wouldn't VanGough's eternal progress be aided by a critical eye? 

I have always felt that our talents, as well as our ability to gain new talents, are eternal in nature and thus subject to eternal progression. Doesn't it stand to reason that the great creators of the world are still creating?

What a pleasant thought. A Gene Kelly dance studio. A performance hall where Puccini is still cranking out operas. Museums full of postmortem works by da Vinci, Turner and Gauguin. 

So all these thoughts were swirling in my mind anew when I came across the article Our Refined Heavenly Home in this month's Ensign. It is a devotional that Elder Douglas L. Callister gave at BYU a few years ago. He says the following:

If we could part the veil and observe our heavenly home, we would be impressed with the cultivated minds and hearts of those who so happily live there. I imagine that our heavenly parents are exquisitely refined... I would like to peek behind the veil that temporarily separates us from our heavenly home and paint a word picture of the virtuous, lovely, and refined circumstances that exist there. I will speak of the language, literature, music, and art of heaven, as well as the immaculate appearance of heavenly beings, for I believe that in heaven we will find each of these in pure and perfected form. The nearer we get to God, the more easily our spirits are touched by refined and beautiful things.

The article is fascinating- not to mention validating to anyone who has made a study of the arts. Moreover, it motivated me to reevaluate some of my media standards. 

Last night we got the kids in bed and had some quiet time. Cori had a bit of work to do and I turned on the TV. We flipped between the last half of On the Town and a documentary about the orignal production of Phantom of the Opera and then a bit of another documentary about West Side Story. Amazing, crazy, talented people- all of them. It can't be by accident. (And isn't Cori the luckiest guy on earth when I have the remote?)

Where are my tap shoes?

Now, for your viewing pleasure, Gene Kelly tap dancing on roller skates. From It's Always Fair Weather- with French subtitles to help you feel extra cultured:

boys only

'Tis the season for father/son camp outs. Last Friday, Cori packed the tent, the port-a-crib, a couple of sleeping bags, zingers, cream soda and a few other necessary camp treats and headed off into the wild with his boy. 

Taken shortly before their embarkation. Grant's "no. one" is his way of giving a thumbs up. The other night at dinner, Cori asked Grant how he liked his food. Grant raised his finger and made appropriate male grunting sounds to indicate that he was gastronomically content. I was so proud. Ever since, Grant gives us his uplifted pointer to let us know he's happy.

Reportedly, the camp ground was little boy heaven for our Grant. He got to play with balls, catch frogs with the big boys and be really close to burning things all night long. When I loaded the pictures that Cori took, I literally lost my breath. This kid may as well be 17. He seems so big and old to me when viewed through someone else's lens.

Meanwhile on the home front, Grace and I had big plans. These plans were set back slightly when she completely crashed at the dinner table. I let her sleep so as not to feel too guilty about keeping her up late with me. When she roused from her evening nap the girl time began. We painted toe nails. We painted finger nails. We watched Sleeping Beauty. We perused and purchased music on iTunes. We shared a couple white chocolate chip macadamia nut cookies. She spent the whole night in my lap, leaning against me, holding my hand, playing with my hair, or in physical contact in some other way. I loved it. She really wanted to sleep in a tent that night. Fortunately for me, we only have one tent. Grace settled for sleeping in the big bed with me for the night. I've never had less room in our king sized sleeping area, but it was nice to have her little body right next to me. 

All in all, it was a successful start to the weekend and a fun first for our little man.

Blessings

Our ward was in charge of providing lunch for the missionaries' zone conference this month. I made mountains of these rolls and (metaphorically) wrapped thanks into each one. I'm so grateful for the valiant missionaries out serving the world. 

It has been over a year since I have been to NV. In just 9 days the kids and I will be heading West. It has been too long. I keep our flight confirmation in a place where I can gaze upon it everyday and smile.

A couple of friends took me up on my offers to do favors for them this week. It felt so good to be of use. I hate asking for help- PRIDE. But my experiences this week have helped me appreciate how asking for help once in a while can be a wonderful way to bind friendships together.  

I've moved my exercise time to the early morning. It is a little rough some days. I'm glad to have good music to blast on my iPod during my run. It wakes me up from the inside out.

part quatre: et fini

There were a couple of things we did that were very spiritual experiences. 1) We went to through the Temple. This is always a spiritual experience, no matter what Temple. But the Nauvoo Temple is definately a unique and beautiful structure on the inside- evocative of the time it was designed.  2) We went to Carthage to tour the jail where the Prophet Joseph and his brother, Hyrum, were martyred. 

We were surprised to learn a few pieces of the story that we had never heard before.

• The jail was also a family residence. The jailer and his wife and children had a kitchen, dining room, bed rooms and a living area within the jail.
• The jail has two prison cells: A debtors room with painted walls and large windows on the first floor, and a dungeon cell on the second floor. The dungeon cell has exposed stone walls and a few slit-shaped windows. It is in this cell that Joseph and Hyrum were being detained. The other men who resided with them (John Taylor, Willard Richards...) were in jail of their own volition to offer support to the Prophet and his brother.
• The room where Joseph and Hyrum were martyred was actually the jailer's bedroom. In the summertime, temperatures in the dungeon cell climb to upwards of 120*. The jailer had Joseph and his companions move to the debtors room to gain some relief from the heat. But he soon feared the the men's vulnerability to any mob action as they were now on the first floor in a room with such large windows. Even the jailer could sense the angry unrest mounting. So the jailer relocated to the parlor and allowed Joseph and the rest to take his bedroom. 
  

a window inside the dungeon cell

taken from the inside of the debtor's room

There is a very quiet feeling at this site. The tours are given by full time missionaries. Our group sang a hymn together in the dungeon cell. The reverence that pervades isn't joyful, but it isn't sorrowful either. Triumph. Gratitude. Awe. This is what I felt. 

left: the window through which Joseph Smith leapt to attract the gunfire away from his friends

right: the door through which Hyrum was shot