How to build a mantel

In case you ever buy a house with the ugliest fireplace in the world and you need to camouflage its hideousness:

Step 1: First, you need to start with a blank canvas. If you're lucky like me, you'll have the joy of knocking bricks out of your wall with a hammer and chisel. (I won't bore you with pictures you've already seen.) Then your husband will get to cover the gaping hole with sheetrock and mud and tape forever, trying to make the wall smooth. This isn't easy when you've never done home improvement before. You'll end up with this (which looks very odd with nothing but a row of bricks on top).

Step 2: After a few months, when your friends are convinced that you're never actually going to build the beautiful mantel you've spoken of, get started. You'll need to screw a large board into the bricks, or I should say, have your husband screw the large board into the bricks. You'll be trying to hold this board, which is very heavy, perfectly still, even as it jumps when the screw goes from the wood to the brick. The board will shift because you're too wimpy to be your husband's helper, and it will cause some unkind words to be spoken between the two of you. You'll both be quite frustrated. You'll need 2 smaller pieces of board to wrap around the sides, and you'll need to miter the corners, so your poor husband will get very good at cutting angles on the chop saw.

Step 3: Screw another large board on the top, perpendicular to and resting on the first board. This will be slightly easier and shouldn't prompt any harsh words.

Step 4: Place a large piece of crown molding underneath the top piece of wood. Hammer in with small finishing nails. This will also need to wrap around the sides. Because the crown molding is already angled, the angles you'll need to cut for the sides will be nearly impossible to get right. You'll need a genius for a husband at this point. (This is why I offered to build the mantel myself and then withdrew the offer. We would have spent a fortune on crown molding when I cut the angles wrong over and over.)

This is how the molding will look when it's nailed in:

Step 5: Nail a tiny piece of trim along the very bottom edge of the front board. The angles will be really fun to cut on the wrap-around sides of this stuff. Forget to take a close-up picture of this step.

Step 6: Fill in all of the screw holes, nail holes, and any other gaps with putty and then sand smooth. (You should drag this step out for a few weeks so your husband doesn't expect that you can ever get a job done quickly.) Prime with Kilz (I learned this from my mom) to keep any knots in the wood from bleeding through. Then paint. And ta-da:

I recently discovered that I am scared to death of decorating. I have no idea what to put on my new mantel, and I'm terrified of actually hanging anything on the walls. It seems so permanent, and I don't trust my judgement. Any ideas for something cute to place on the mantel?

Nostalgia

I am not a runner. I'm really not athletic at all. (Big shock, I know.) I played field hockey in high school, and I pushed hard and was one of the fastest runners on the team, but I was not one of the best players. I had to really work at it. In college, my roommates and I would go run around the BYU track together, mostly because we were working our way toward the freshman 15 and we realized that eventually we'd have to exercise to avoid obesity. The older I get and the more kids I have, the more important it becomes for me to stay active. I don't really enjoy working out, but I like the feeling when I finish a hard workout, and the way I feel the rest of the day. (To be honest, I am in need of a targeted diet and exercise program to get me down to where I am comfortable with my weight, but that's a subject for another day.)

In Spokane, I found the exercise I really love. I had discovered walking after I started having kids, partly as exercise, but more as a way to take the kids to the park and get in a little bit of activity at the same time. Then after a month or two in Spokane, John found this cool running route. He took me on a drive to show me, and I fell in love immediately. The houses we passed were beautiful, as were the rolling hills, the forests of trees, and the openness of it all. And we saw cows, horses, deer, and innumberable other creatures. I decided to walk it for the first time when my sisters were in town visiting me. I didn't realize how long the walk was, and we weren't in the greatest shape - one of my sisters had a pretty new baby. So it took us forever, and we went in the middle of a very hot day. We were all terribly sore the next day, and I had a new goal. I was going to walk that route every day. It was perfect! (Here are some pictures. I know, not the first time I've posted pics of Regal.)




The walk started out around 4.5 miles, but it grew. At first I started turning around just over halfway through, and that made it a little longer. Then John heard about the Bloomsday Race, a 12K run downtown every year, and signed up for a team at the hospital. In training for the race, he discovered another road to add to our route, which made it about 6 miles total. I loved the new road. It was even more remote, and included a killer hill - the kind of hill that leaves you drooling when you get to the top because you're so tired you can't control your own body functions. I decided that I should walk the Bloomsday Race with the stroller. I used the race as an excuse to "train." I started turning around more than halfway into the new route, making a 7 mile walk. The most I ever did was 8.5, stopping at the church for the kids to play at the park and then turning around and going home. I became obsessed, and I timed myself every day, pushing to go faster. I fell in love with walking - walking for speed, preferably with a heavy stroller. Not quite sure what you'd call that, as far as sports go.

The Bloomsday Race was a memorable event. More than 40,000 people finished the race. They have 8 different start times. John got to start near the front because he was on a corporate team. Unfortunately for me, if you have a stroller, you are in the last group with all of the walkers, kids, and folks who don't care at all about speed. They told us when we got to the starting line that there were 35,000 people already ahead of us. It was so hard to push through that crowd, so I had a really hard time getting any sort of speed. I had been terrified of the course because it seemed really scary when we drove it. There were some pretty mean hills - one that they call Doomsday Hill and they even have a guy at the top dressed as a vulture, waiting for racers who can't make it up the hill. But my adrenalin was pumping and the hills seemed easy compared to finding ways to weave in and out of the other racers. With all of my frustration, I still loved that I had finished a race with my stroller, and my time wasn't too shabby. For those of you who have run big races like that, you know how exciting it is to be a part of something so big. We met up with John and walked back to the car with the kids, wishing that we could do the race every year. (I'm sad that I didn't take many pictures. Here's a pic of the crowd, and one of the kids and me before the race.)



Bloomsday 2008 is this coming Sunday. I swear to you, if money weren't an issue (gas prices are terrible!), I would drive up there this weekend just to walk it with the stroller again, pregnant belly and all. This time I'd make sure that I'm at the very front of the last starting group, and I'd be more forceful in pushing my way past people - once you get through the walkers, it has to thin out a little. I could use it as an excuse to visit my cousin in Walla Walla and walk my beloved route on Regal again. As strange as it may sound, I think there's a real possibility that John and I will do the Bloomsday Race again someday.

Flowers for Mommy

My cousin is going to think I stole this straight from her blog, but I promise I didn't. We have had the most wonderful lazy afternoon. After lunch, Carter went down for a nap and Tanner and Katelyn ran off to play, so John and I were free. We napped for a little while, and then we both decided to read. John studied and I lounged in bed, reading and sleeping off and on. Katelyn came in with this surprise for me. She said, "Here are some flowers for you. I put them in water so they could grow." When I took them to show John, he told me that he saw her carrying them in the house and asked her not to take weeds inside and she said, "I need to take them in to mom so she'll be happy when she wakes up." She can be such a sweet and loving little girl. These are the things that just make your heart ache with the love of being a mother. I have to steal this poem from my cousin:

A rose can say “I love you” ..An orchid can enthrall…

but a weed bouquet in a chubby fist. That is best of all!

Sadie

Meet our new puppy, Sadie. Yes, I said puppy. Believe it or not, she's even bigger now than she was in this picture. She's a yellow lab, and we think she may have some golden retriever in her, but we're not sure. She's only about 6 months old, so she's going to be a giant dog when she's full grown.

You may be asking, "What happened to Tess?" Well, if you spent any time at our house over the last 2 years, you know that Tess was not a good fit for our family. She was part terrier, so the constant yipping and hyperness were not ever going to go away. We finally decided in October that she deserved a better home, so we found an older couple with no children to take her and love her.

The kids were really sad, and we really did want a dog, so we put a lot of thought into what kind of dog to get. We decided on a bigger, smarter dog. And we decided we'd better get the dog acclimated to our family before the baby gets here, so we got her about 6 weeks ago. We were looking at little puppies, but I think we got lucky with a 4-month old, already housebroken dog. That took a lot of stress out of getting a puppy.

Sadie is super energetic and playful, and she drives us crazy. But she does settle down and snuggle, and she lets the kids do a whole lot to her. And we know that in a few years she'll be a very mellow family dog. I know a lot of my friends are not animal lovers and think I'm crazy. Actually, if you're my friend, you know for a fact that I'm crazy...

Must be a boy thing

I am the oldest of four girls. My parents both come from very conservative families. My dad recently had surgery and I heard him tell a nurse, "In my family, body parts were referred to by their scientific names, and they were never referred to." So, as you can imagine, having boys has introduced me to a strange and unfamiliar world. Tanner, my stepson, has been in my life for about 8 years now. That's where I was introduced to how boys do things. Believe me, it took me a long time to get used to all of the wrestling, and climbing, and jumping off of everything. And laughing at body humor that I never imagined people could think of as funny. I think I've mellowed out a little, and while I am most certainly the one giving disapproving looks to the boys (hubby included) at dinner for all sorts of inappropriate behavior, I can laugh at a lot more than I used to.

Tanner is 11 now, so his potty humor has matured somewhat, and he's smart enough to censor himself for my benefit, I'm sure. But suddenly I have this little 2-year-old who fits right into the boys club. With no lessons, no initiation, he just understands what is supposed to be funny. Here's an example. I was teasing the kids in the car the other day, trying to keep them awake because it was too close to dinner for a nap, and I shouted, "Boo!" at Carter. He started laughing hysterically immediately, and I was patting myself on the back for being such a fun mom, when he started repeating, "Poo! Poo!" That's what he thought I had said, and for the life of me I couldn't convince him otherwise, or get him to stop yelling that and laughing. So for the last two weeks, that has been his favorite word. He runs around saying it and laughing. Putting him on the naughty mat doesn't make him any less likely to start it up again as soon as he's off. He also loves to talk about "bottoms" and laughs at any body function that has a sound associated with it.

For any of you who doubt it, boys are born with this sense of humor. For the boys I've known, you can't take it out of them. Luckily, you can train them to tone it down a little, at least when you're around. I hope it doesn't take me too long. I have a feeling there's going to be a lot more "poo" talk around here than I'm really comfortable with.

*Update*
This made me laugh. Carter was running around saying poo again, over and over. I told him that if he said it again, he'd have to sit on the naughty mat. So he looked at me oh-so-innocently and said, "Sadie went poo outside." (Sadie's our dog.) He seemed to know that if he used the word in legitimate context, I just couldn't get mad at him. I swear, if you saw his face, you'd agree - he was trying to outsmart me. I couldn't help but laugh, then cut it off and put my serious face back on so I could resume trying to quell his potty mouth.

Someone is taunting me

This ad appeared on Craigs List tonight. John has been watching KSL and Craigs List religiously for the last 10 months and has never seen a monkey posted in the free sections. Is this a sign?

You make me happy, when skies are gray

One of the best things I've done for myself since we moved into our home was to plant bulbs in the fall. I think I've already mentioned that I spent hours in the front yard in the dark, hunched over digging holes for the 90+ bulbs that I planted. I was sore for two days, and had no skin left on my hands, but it was totally worth it. Watching my bulbs come up has been exciting and uplifting. Let me take you through my journey this spring:

Across the front of our house, I planted daffodils, tulips, hyacinths, pansies, and grape hyachinths. We have ugly red mulch covering the flowerbed, but I can't really afford to change that and I'm not sure what I would do if I did, so I just planted them in the midst of it and I'm glad I did. I'm sure I'll figure out how to make the flowerbeds my own in the next few years, but at least I have something started now.

Now that it's all come up, I like the design my sister helped me come up with, to alternate the flowers in a long row. But looking at everyone else's bulbs, I'm excited for mine to grow more full in the coming years.

I also planted a ring of bulbs around the lamp post out front. I alternated tulips and daffodils, and put crocuses around the outside.

I have gotten so much joy out of watching my little babies peek their heads up and then grow taller and bloom. Even on the days when it's cold and overcast, I have this beautiful spray of color across the front of my house. It makes me smile. Every time I step out of my house, here's what I see:

For a while, the daffodils were the tallest and the brightest, but the tulips have bloomed just in time for the daffodils to start to fade a little. (Notice the little landscaping lights that John installed along the front earlier this spring. It looks really cool at dusk!) I'm sure someday I'll look back on this little attempt of mine and think that I had no idea what I was doing, but for right now, I'm perfectly satisfied. I only wish all of you could come stand here and look with me.

Haven't you always wanted a mon-key?!

You have to channel the Barenaked Ladies here and "If I had a million dollars". While you're at it, remember their song, "Another postcard with chimpanzees"? John got so sick of me singing that song in the car! These guys must be men after my own heart.

If you haven't caught on yet, I love monkeys. (Yes, I realize that chimps aren't technically monkeys, they're apes. I probably like apes better than monkeys in reality, but that subject is for another day. For my purposes here, they're all going to be called monkeys.) I have wanted a pet monkey for as long as I can remember. It may have originated when I was really little and I watched Bedtime for Bonzo (remember the old Ronald Reagan classic?) with my parents. I remember discussing it with my mom, because she would always tell me about one of her elementary school teachers who had a monkey and had her entire backyard fenced in, including the top, so the monkey couldn't get out. Telling me that monkeys had to wear diapers just made it seem that much more fun. By the way, do monkeys always have to wear diapers, or can you potty train them?

So, I came to a pivotal moment in my life a week ago. I passed up my chance to have a monkey of my very own. Seriously. Here's what happened. John and I were sitting around chatting on a Sunday afternoon. He was surfing the web, checking his Free Stuff on KSL website every minute or so, as usual. And a free monkey popped up. Right there in front of his eyes. He was probably the first person to read the posting. So he asked me, "Do you want a monkey?" (He already knew the answer to this question, mind you. He knows me very well.) And I had to decide then and there if I wanted to make my lifelong dream come true.

I watched the dog run around the back yard, and looked down at my growing abdomen, and contemplated the question. Of course I want a monkey. I have ALWAYS wanted a monkey. But now that I have kids and a puppy and a baby on the way - now is the worst time to be confronted with this. I cannot take care of a monkey right now, or anytime soon, for that matter. The clock ticked as we discussed it. John kept saying, "It's in Ogden. We can call right now and go get it." After four agonizing minutes, the monkey was marked sold, and it was all over.

From the picture, the monkey looked similar in size and type to the one Ross had on Friends. The description didn't give a lot of detail. I don't know if the monkey wears diapers, or how old it is. I do know that his favorite food is Doritos. Not a lot to go on. But I think it's safe to say that I made a wise decision. If this had come up before Katelyn came along, I can assure you that we'd have moved out of our apartment to find somewhere monkey-friendly. That's how serious I am about my love of monkeys. I take my kids to the zoo so that I can spend an hour in the ape house, and then another hour in the monkey house.

So I had the chance. My husband would have let me do it. And I willingly gave up something that I have always wanted. I guess that's what it means to be an adult.

Bye, bye, monkey......

Random Musings

Hi. My name is Melanie, and this is my blog. I love blogging, but I cannot seem to balance keeping my life in order and finding time to blog. What is my problem? I know that the rest of you do it. Any tips? For two weeks, I kept my house perfectly spotless, the laundry was kept up, I planned menus and cooked dinners, and I shopped when necessary to keep our fridge stocked. And then I got overwhelmed (yes, again) with my husband getting home close to midnight too many nights, and having to study on the nights when he got home earlier. And I crashed. With me came the house, the laundry, the fridge, and my spirits. So I'm recovering, but I miss blogging, so I'm taking a minute to say hi.

Katelyn had a neighbor friend here today. They came inside to play, and as they went down the stairs I heard Katelyn explain, "I have no idea why this light switch goes down to turn on, but it just does." You know, the light has a switch at the top and the bottom, so you never know if you have to switch it up or down. But my little 4-year-old sounded hilarious explaining this to her friend. I had no idea she was even capable of such a thought. These are the things that I want to preserve, and since I'm terrible at journaling, I want to at least put them on my blog occasionally. Actually, I have a million and one blog posts in my head, and even a couple drafts started, but I never seem to make the time to publish them. I hope I can get my act together and get back into the game.

I said this not too long ago, but I feel the need to repeat myself. I am so grateful for all of my blogging friends. When I actually take a minute to read your blogs - which I have not done often at all lately, and certainly haven't commented - I am uplifted and inspired. I feel like I'm not all alone in this world, and like we're sharing a lot of the same struggles. When I get an invitation to a blog that's gone private, it makes my day. It probably seems like I'm not reading or not interested, but I crave the companionship you give me. So thank you! And thanks for checking my blog even though you know in your heart there will be nothing new, and thanks for your comments when I actually get something posted. I really value your friendship, and vow to be a better friend to all of you.