The Bard

I love Shakespeare. At least, I love his writing. I can't vouch for the man, we've never met. But his words, oh his words. I think they are swell.

As a freshman in high school I was the only person in my English class that didn't groan when Romeo and Juliet was introduced as our next reading assignment. No, I was giddy. The teacher handed out roles and I raised my hand for the nurse. Juliet is lovely, but the nurse has spunk. Perhaps the other students had never spent time delving into the language of Shakespeare because they read their lines as if they were half asleep or severely sedated. I knew my lines were funny and I read them as such. As I read my part they turned to look at the odd girl who was channeling an ornery middle-aged nurse.

I have seen beautiful Shakespearean productions and some that caused me pain. Anthony Hopkins as Othello, not so good. Patrick Stewart as Othello (based on the clips that I've seen), glorious. I've seen King Lear played by a woman. I loved it.

Last night I watched an episode of ShakespeRe-Told. The BBC took four of Shakespeare's plays and updated them. I was apprehensive at first. What would they do with my dear Beatrice and Benedick?

After thinking it over carefully I have come to a conclusion: I liked it. The actor that played Benedick was appropriately smarmy up until the time that we needed to like him, at which point he became endearing. Beatrice was shrill and harsh until she reached her dramatic turning point and became relateable. I wasn't totally happy with Hero and Claudio's resolution, but the rest of it was quite good.

I'm kind of excited to see the other three episodes now, especially the updated Taming of the Shrew. How will they reconcile Kate's closing speech to Petruchio with modern views of women's rights?

What are your thoughts on the writings of Shakespeare? Fabulous? Inaccessible to a modern audience? Too boring to care?

Family Fun on a Tuesday Night

All By Myself

Peter likes to do everything on his own. EVERYTHING. I pick a cup off the counter and try to hand it to him and he puts it back on the counter so that he can get it himself. I admire his desire to be independent, but sometimes it's exhausting watching him undo and then redo the work that I've just done.

Despite that, I do what I can to accommodate this I'll-do-it-myself streak by giving him options: Peter would you go choose your breakfast cereal? Would you please go pick out your clothes for the day? Do you want to put yourself in timeout or should I do it? (This last one is usually met with a resounding "I will NOT put myself in timeout and YOU will not put me in timeout EITHER!")

One aspect of his independence that I applaud is that Peter loves to say prayers all by himself. He is a pro at blessing the food and often reminds Cooper to fold his arms so that he can pray. Cooper in turn dutifully bows his head and folds his arms while he watches Peter bless the food. Yes, this does melt my heart, thank you for asking.

Last night Peter insisted on saying his evening prayers by himself, his first solo attempt. After a good opening he went on to giving thanks, but I think we need to explain the difference between "thankful" and "please bless" because this is what he said:

"I thank Thee for my family. And I thank Thee that we can put my bed right there by the nightlight and the crib over by the clock and Mommy and Daddy's bed where the crib used to be."

And then he closed the prayer, looked at us, and asked what was so funny. I should state that this room rearrangement was news to us. I had been stifling my laughter and peeking at Peter as he gestured around the room to make sure he was clear about where everyone would sleep.

I wonder if he'll take his quest for independence one step further and rearrange the room himself.

I Love to See the Temple

We went to the Oquirrh Mountain Temple open house on Saturday. It was beautiful and the boys did well up until the end when Cooper decided to show off his lung power. He is loud. He is even louder in a lovely room full of very reverent people.


In the car on the way home I asked Peter a question:

Me: Peter, what was your favorite part about the Temple?

Peter: The golf club.

(Silence as Bryan and I try to figure out what inside the Temple looked like a golf club.)

Me: Do you mean the golf cart?

Peter: Yup

Me: Oh, you liked the ride from the parking lot?

Peter: Yeah, in the baseball cart.

Oh dear. I hope that he remembers something from the open house other than the golf carts. And perhaps we should discuss the subtle differences between baseball and golf.

I'm a Visual Learner

Purple People Eater

Remember the purple potatoes? Peter and I pulled up six more yesterday. We needed potatoes for a roast that we're having today and this particular plant was right next to a summer squash plant that isn't doing so well. I thought that by pulling up the potato plant I might give the squash some room to grow.

So we have seven purple potatoes. As I mentioned last week, I didn't plant purple potatoes. I cut up one of the Russet potatoes we had in the pantry and I planted that. I didn't even know purple potatoes existed until I unearthed one. Back when the potatoes were flowering I thought it was odd that four of the plants had white blossoms and one had purple blossoms.

Bryan wanted to make sure they were safe to eat before I added them to our dinner. So I went to the source of all knowledge for the answer: I Googled it. And what do you know? They are real. And they're purple on the inside too. I guess whoever had this garden plot last year (these are plots available to the people in our complex for a small fee since no one has a backyard) must have planted them and not dug up all the potatoes.


Now the question: will I be able to convince anyone at my house to actually eat them?

One Step Closer to Living on a Commune

We made homemade yogurt in the crockpot and it was delicious. Bryan blended blackberries in, then we sweetened it with sugar (Bryan) and honey (me and Peter).


And as an added bonus, no one was poisoned.

Hurray for growing bacteria!

Try, Try, Try

Last week at church Peter was given the assignment for the following Sunday to recite the First Article of Faith in Primary opening exercises. We started working on it early in the week so that he would know what he was supposed to say, but given his two previous attempts, I wasn't getting my hopes up. I would recite it and then he would recite it. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

On Sunday morning before church we set up a mock podium for Peter to practice. He said the whole thing without any prompting. Then I had him practice it again, but louder. Then I had him imagine that all the Primary kids were staring at him while he spoke. That sounds cruel, I know, but it can be an important technique to prepare yourself to speak in public.

Bryan, Cooper, and I parked ourselves in the back of the Primary room, ready to see what Peter would do. We had already decided that Bryan would be the helper this time and that I would stay in my seat. We sang along with the opening song (which Cooper loved), listened to the announcements and watched three other Sunbeams go up to the podium for their assignments. The little boy that was asked to give the prayer wouldn't even climb the steps, while the two little girls that gave the talk and the scripture delivered their parts nicely.

Then came the moment of truth. Peter's name was announced. Would he speak?

He bounced out of his seat, walked to the podium, climbed the steps, and smiled. Then, as Bryan whispered in his ear, Peter spoke loudly and clearly. He did it! And he was happy about it! Later, the Primary President told me that she was so excited that Peter spoke.

Me too.

One Foot in Front of the Other

Yesterday at church I watched many of Cooper's peers walking and running around the foyer. I was out there holding my own wiggly and very loud 16-month-old in an attempt to preserve the reverence in Sacrament Meeting. I've been concerned for the last few weeks that I would have to send him to Nursery in a month-and-a-half without the ability to toddle about with the other nursery children. According to his pediatrician, Cooper's walking isn't delayed until he hits the 18-month mark, but he did suggest that physical therapy might be a good idea. We haven't done any official physical therapy, but we have been encouraging him to cruise and walk while holding our hands more.

Behold, the fruit of our labors:



I know it's only a few steps, but he took a solid three in a row before we got the camera out, all of his own volition. I was so excited that my eyes filled up with tears. He loved the cheering and applause that we poured out each time he lifted his feet. Maybe I won't have to send a non-walker to Nursery after all.

It's Too Darn Hot

Ten points to whomever can name the musical reference in the title.

Seriously though, it has been wicked, crazy hot this last week. I'm really feeling this heat wave because we recently spent two-weeks four-miles from the Pacific Ocean, breathing in a delicious breeze. I didn't realize that my internal thermostat could be so easily reset.

It's been so hot that we've spent our days inside with all the windows shut and the blinds closed. I am a lover of sunshine, so keeping the light out is rough for me. Consequently, the last few days have been hard. Really. Really. Hard. The golden glow that usually streams though my windows helps me maintain a firm grasp on patience and sanity. The crazy has definitely been threatening to fly free this week. I've kept it in check, but it's been close.

Why does my favorite season torture me so?