The only way to eat a grapefruit

In my opinion grapefruit (or is it grapefruits?) are the unsung heroes of the citrus family.  They get a bad rap for being sour and hard to eat.  And they are.  Unless you make them like this:

1. Cut grapefruit in half.

2. Sprinkle the top with cinnamon and sugar, don't be skimpy now.

3. Put it on a pan with a decent lip on it (so the juices don't run all over your oven - totally learned that the hard way).

4. Broil until the sugars caramelize and kind of melt into the fruit.

5. Use a sharp knife to cut into sections and slice off the peal (it seems to come off a lot easier when it is warm like this).

Good morning, Lover.

Spring Break, more of the same

We had no plans for spring break, which was just as well since it poured most of the week.

I did waste Dr. Stephen's time and took Mia to the doctor just for kicks.  

 Last time I ignored her tummy ache complaints for a month only to find out she had strep, so to ease my guilt I heard her cough once and rushed her in.   

 Of course it was nothing.

 Dr. Stephens was all, "Yah, it looks like she coughed once."  

 I am sure as soon as we left the nurse immediately flagged her chart with whatever the universal code for "crazy mother" is.  I have no doubt there is one.  It's probably the first code they learn in medical school.

Thankfully, we spent a lot of times in tents, at Sonic, and in Chickasha with the grandparents.  Which translates to a successful spring break.

2012 Book List

I recently received some great advice from a lovely couple whom I admire and respect immensely, Mr. and Mrs. B.  I respect them for many, many reasons but the reason they should both be nominated for a Noble Peace Prize is because they have sat one row behind my insane family at church for the past 8 years. They have picked up spilled Cheerios, had miniature action figures fly past their heads, and have smelled smells that would make you doubt the existence of God.  We are that family.  And somehow they have stuck it out with us through four children in seven years.

God bless them.

Recently, they challenged a group of us to quit having kids read a lot and to keep track of the books that we read.  So that is exactly what I am doing.

I am not into writing reviews, so I will limit my commentary to a phrase or two. And if I hate a book I simply don't finish reading it, so these are the books I have read so far this year that did not get thrown across the room.  Your welcome, books.

Blue Like Jazz is the bible for college students so of course I had to read it.

















The Descendants is worth reading before you see the movie.  It's also worth reading if you enjoy hearing teenagers use the F-word.
















What woman doesn't love a good pregnancy/birth story? Couple that with Harvard, down-syndrome, despair and triumph and you have yourself a whole lotta drama.

This book could be called Extremely Weird and Incredibly Good.  Badum ching.

















Forgotten God is written by the Crazy Love dude.  It's a thinker.

















Funny in Farsi is fun, easy to read, and just made me happy.
















Do not be fooled by the title, Listening Is An Act Of Love is not some self help mumbo-jumbo.  It's a beautiful book.  Trust me, you should read this.










 
Do not, I repeat do not read this book unless you want your life to change.   The title could not be more accurate.  I kind of want to marry this book.

Meh.  I know this is a true story and all but just, meh.

Pink eye in da houzz

Mia had only one plan for spring break:  Go to Yaya and DD's house for a really, really long time.  So off to Yaya and DD's she went.

The first day she woke up with pink eye.  She kindly passed it on to DD.  A phone call to the doctor and a couple of trips to the pharmacy and they were back in business. 

And then I received the most unusual phone call: Mia is crying and wants to come home NOW, we will meet you in 30 minutes.
I was baffled.
On the way home I found out that my parent's cat, Jazzy, was sick and was going to die that day.
Mia was beside herself.  Every attempt I made at a consoling death talk failed miserably.  She cried giant, pink-eye infested tears all the way home.

As soon as we arrived home, Mia went straight to her room to see her beloved fish, Rainbow.  And as luck would have it, he was deader than a doornail.

I completely forgot to feed that thing while she was gone.

And now I have pink eye.

Once again, my kid beats me at my own game.

 Recently, Mia started homeschooling this kid:

 I know what you're thinking: uphill battle.

But only Mia could convince The Bodester to sit at a tiny desk for hours regurgitating random facts and useless {to him} information.

It's conformity at it's finest, people.

And look, a homework folder:

She demands parental involvement. We comply.

Tuesday was "learning your vowel sounds"day.

Wednesday they planted seedlings.

He also completed a unit on the history of Saint Patrick's Day while I took a bubble bath.  

I see this new endeavor as a win-win.

He sees it as just another way to make himself awesome.

Eight years ago I would have considered this lame.

Eight years ago my Saturday nights generally consisted of friends, food, and fun.  And by friends, I mean people that we had uninterrupted converations with.  And by food, I mean eating at a place that does not have a playground.  And by fun, I mean doing whatever-the-heck I wanted whenever-the-heck I wanted it.

Now my Saturday nights consist of, well, this:

(In case you think I am at a rave, this is actually glow sticks in the bathtub. This little idea bought me almost 20 uninterrupted minutes on Pinterest.) 

Do I miss the conversation (and the food)?  Sure.  Would I go back?  Never.

Whenever my kids start to get a little too Edmondish, I'm totally sending them here for the weekend.

Yesterday, our Missions Sunday planning committee headed here.  The HUT is a simulation camp where people can go to train for (or just experience) life on the mission field.  You can live in the slums of Port a Prince, Haiti, an African tribal village, a remote farm culture in Asia, or even in a poverty stricken American community.  

It. Was. Humbling.  The toilets were...well, nonexistent. Some villages have latrines.  Some villages have ways to purify water.  Some have neither.  And sure, you can eat dinner.  You just have to go to the market, figure out how to communicate to people that speak no english, take back whatever is available to your village, and then figure out how on earth to cook it.

It's called perspective, people.  And I gained a little.  I think this is where my future teenagers are going to spend a couple of weekends a year.  Who's in?

Ignore my face in this picture, please.

But this is how my sister showed up at my house the other day.

I have long since resigned to the fact that I will never be as tall and naturally adorable as her, but thank heavens I have at least some of her sense of style.  

(And considering almost everything I wear is something she has bought me or handed down to me, I should certainly hope so.)

Love you, Aunt Sesa!

Cat in the Fancy Nancy Hat

This was a busy week in the Lashley family.  I usually don't like busy weeks.  But when they revolve around reading I really can't complain.

Mia was thrilled to get to meet the illustrator of all the Fancy Nancy books, Robin Glasser (thank you, Oakdale).  Like, she really, really cared, because "being an illustrator is one of the three things that I want to be when I grow up, duh."  

And Bode didn't care at all that is was Dr. Seuss day at Sonshine School because, "The Cat in the Hat isn't a Jedi and I'm a Jedi so I can't be the Cat in the Hat."  He's quite the philosopher.

Seeing Mia standing at her vanity getting ready for her day makes me quit breathing for just a minute.  She is supposed to still be this little girl.

Whether Bode cared or not was irrelevant.  I cared (and thankfully so did Yaya and Ahmo, who made this adorable costume and then drove it all the way up here - THANK YOU!!!).

Mia had several questions prepared for Mrs. Glasser.  Sadly, she didn't pick her so Mia didn't get to ask them.  She did, however, get to dress herself, in case you can't tell.

Now, if you don't think that is the cutest Cat in the Hat on the planet, then you either have your own kid that dressed as him today(in which case I understand that you are biased), or you are just plain crazy.