Sprechen Sie Deutsch?

Chamber Singers is the elite singing group at our high school.  It rehearses before school, twice a week, and the music is difficult (to say the least).  Only a select number of kids every get in, and almost without exception, they are juniors and seniors.  The number of sophomores who have been accepted in the last ten years can be counted on one hand.  Seriously. Mark was one of them. This year, Johannah decided to try out.  We started practicing two weeks in advance.  The music had to be plowed through, note by note.  There were all kinds of tricky rhythms, and strange entrances and Johannah knew that she would need to be able to sing independently as the tryouts are with only four people, SATB.  Only two sophomores had even made the callbacks, and Johannah was thrilled to be one of them. Mark in his junior year in CS Mark was rooting for her.  He believes that Johannah will continue the Kennedy dynasty, one note and one musical organization at a time.  Unfortunately, he fo

It was great fun seeing Mark for a couple of hours.  After downing a kebab, we were off to rowing practice.  I think Mark was more excited for me to see him row than to hear him play, but I'm just sayin'... Man, it was beautiful.  The boathouse is off of North Main Street, a place I had never even visited, or seen. It's an amazing secret in the middle of the town--just the boathouse, the river, and beauty. I sat on a bench on the side of the river, trying not to look like a total stalker, or creeper as my kids would say.  It's obvious that Mark and the other 7 guys are newbies at rowing, but looking at the more advanced rowers, I have no doubt they will get it quickly. I was amazed at the beauty of the surroundings.  Too, I couldn't help but think of how much rowing combines so many of Mark's loves:  rhythm, solitude, beauty and movement. The rhythm of rowing is easy for Mark, no doubt because he's a musician.  He's always loved rhythm, constantl

On Tuesday, I drove over to Ann Arbor to see Mark, and really to hear him play with the University Philharmonic Orchestra.  However, in true Mark/Mommy/AnnArbor style, we crammed in as much as we could in Mark's "spare" moments.  This included finding something for him to eat between classes and rowing practice.  It had been up to him, we would have headed to Wendy's.  However, being the Ann Arborite that I am, I was having none of that.  I think that Ann Arbor has one of the best selections of amazing restaurants of any city in the world. I headed back to a haunt of mine from teenagerdom:  the Parthenon (the sign hasn't even changed from when I was a kid).  I remembered eating Greek gyros there, and I wondered if they were anything like the delicious kebabs we ate in Germany.  Oh yeah, baby, Mark's face says it all!

There is a tradition in our home, come late August/early September:  toasted tomato sandwiches.  This is a tradition shared between John and Johannah.  They look forward to these sandwiches for the taste; I look forward to these sandwiches for the laughter. A couple of years ago, John introduced these sandwiches to Johannah.  At the time, we had the most ginormous tomatoes growing in our garden.  I don't know the variety, but I suspect it was something along the lines of "BIG BOY".  Those tomatoes were huge, and because of their size, John felt that he needed to cut the slices of tomato respectively.  When he brought the first (of what would be many) sandwich over to Johannah, she could seriously hardly get her mouth around it.  There must have been at least a pound of tomato on that sandwich alone.  Not being a big tomato eater myself, I just sat back and laughed, and laughed. This year, the varieties John grew were much smaller, so the laughter wasn't as much,

You know, I think sometimes we go through hardships so that we can discover who our friends are.  Through my no good, very bad, terrible week last week, I received many notes of encouragement, both in the mail, and on the blog, and through email, and even (gasp!) on Facebook.  I discovered that the world was not actually against me, but only a few rotten people were.  And to my delight, I also discovered that I am actually lovable.  It was a beautiful moment to think that I wasn't as bad as some people were thinking I am. One of the notes that came in the mail now hangs on my refrigerator as I still fight some residual demons.  It was such a beautiful note, and it still makes me happy every time I reach for a Diet Coke.  I actually thought it was just printed on the stationery (because it's just so darn cute), but unless Hallmark has taken up using my name in its printed stationery, I realize that it was drawn just for me. Thank you to everyone for helping me through a tr

Yep, it's true. I am officially a Wolverine Athlete! Granted, I'm not quite as famous as Denard Robinson or Bo Schembechler, but I'm still one of them! Rowing was quite the random sport, I'll admit. Daddy was always pushing us as little kids to go out for soccer, basketball, baseball - well it was T-Ball then but it counted(: The problem was, it never really clicked with me or Ethan. I even distinctly remember in baseball (the balls were being pitched now by kids) when I would purposely never swing because I figured the kid pitchers would pitch more balls than strikes. I only liked the adrenaline rush of running from base to base, and then again, that wasn't much fun either. So it was sort of destiny when one of my leaders at Orientation told me the Rowing team would try and recruit me. Why? Cause they like tall people(: Three weeks later, a postcard came in the mail, giving me times for Open Boathouses and Mass Meetings and let me tell you, that Open Boathouse

...and he still enjoys launching rockets... John's birthday was this past weekend, and I can hardly even say his age.  I mean really?  Here are just a few reasons that my husband can not possibly be 45. He still has the hair on his head... and none of it is gray. Patients continue to think that he just graduated from medical school... even though it's been 15 years. He still runs marathons annually.... and chooses any extra marathons he wants to run based on the coolness of the t-shirt. He wishes the church would sponsor dances for adults... so he could boogie down to "Poor Some Sugar on Me" again. He still attends rock concerts... and still gets speeding tickets on the way there. He continues to learn new things (German, scuba diving) and brings me along for the ride. His fascination for anything scary continues.  Zombies, vampires, disembodied hands... and he's considering buying a shotgun in the event of a zombie apocalypse. He can chow dow

That what Mark says it all was.  Destiny. When Mark attended orientation for the freshman at the University of Michigan in June, one of the counselors walked up to him and said, "Oh man, the rowing team is going to come after you."  Asking what he meant, the counselor explained that the rowing team is always looking for tall, skinny guys. Fast forward two months... Two weeks before Mark started school, he received a postcard in the mail from the Michigan Men's Rowing Team, asking that he attend one of their orientation sessions. Fast forward two weeks... Two hours after Mark's audition for placement within the School of Music, he was attending the orientation session, and walked out on Cloud 9.  The nicest guys in the coolest sport.  He knew he wanted to be a part of it. Fast forward three weeks.... After working out with the rowing team, Mark had tryouts on Tuesday (I keep mistakenly calling them "auditions"--yeah, musical family, what??).

I can remember going with my grandmother to the hair salon once a week.  She had one of those perma-hairdos.  You know the kind--the older ladies get their hair done, and then they don't wash it, or touch it until the next week.  They get about a pound of hairspray sprayed on it to keep it in place.  Kind of a dying breed of woman, I think, but nonetheless, I believe it started there. I love getting my hair done.  Granted, now that my hair is entirely gray/white, it takes a long time to make it NOT gray/white.  However, it's worth the time and money to me.  I walk out, feeling like a new person.  Plus, it's fun to see how my hair stylist will style my hair for the day--I give her free reign with that, and the color. Seriously, if you haven't gotten your hair "done" in a while, seize the day!  And the hairspray...

With all the criticism of late, I find that I unfortunately need to make this blog private.  If you're interested in being invited to read it, send me your email (thenewmamaaris@yahoo.com).  Some of you will naturally be invited (family members, scuba diving friends), so don't worry about sending me your address.  However, if there are some of you out there whom I might not know about, but who are interested in being invited, please let me know. I would like to thank all of you who have been supportive of me over the last few days and who haven't been critical of me over my lifetime.  You don't have any idea how much your kind words have helped me through some very dark days of late.  I like to remind myself that for every critique I receive, I receive 3-4 supportive, kind comments.  It's all good, right?

Oh man, I just spent the last five minutes laughing until my sides hurt.  A man that we knew as a missionary in Germany (Elder Grimm) posted the link to this site on his FB page.  It's funny texts between kids and parents.  I'm still smiling (mostly because I remember the day when Ethan was about seven years old, and he asked me if he could stop drinking from a sippie-cup).  Here's just a sampling: ME:   PS. I told a friend about the time you sent me to school with a bottle of cheez whiz and a sleeve of Ritz Crackers today. Also the fact that you bought a stack of dog bowls on sale and thought it was a brilliant idea because we couldn’t spill. The friend was highly amused. DAD:   I still don’t remember the former but am still very proud of the latter. Dog bowls are more stable than normal bowls. The amount of food disasters went down drastically and immediately. Experiment agreed with theory. Wonderful. Why didn't I think of dog bowls when my kids were little????

Like I said, criticism comes in waves for me.  And it continued today. When I was sitting at the organ during the sacrament ordinance, I began my prayer.  I honestly didn't know how to begin it, so I just started talking (in my head) to Heavenly Father.  Here was my prayer: "Heavenly Father, this has been a really terrible week for me.  I've been criticized and cut down and made to feel as if I'm nothing.  I've done my best, Heavenly Father, to keep going.  I've done my best to turn the other cheek.  I've done my best to be humble and move on.  But Heavenly Father, I don't think I can handle much more of this." At that point, at very specific thought came to me, and I know it was prompted by my very loving Heavenly Father. I thought of my Savior.  I thought of all that he went through in his life.  During his ministry, he was criticized and cut down and made to feel as if he was nothing.  He kept going.  He turned the other cheek.  He was h

Should you feel inclined to censure faults you may in others view, Ask your own heart, ere you venture, if you have not failings, too. Let not friendly vows be broken; rather strive a friend to gain. Many words in anger spoken find their passage home again. Do not then in idle pleasure trifle with a brother's fame; Guard it as a valued treasure, sacred as your own good name. Do not form opinions blindly; hastiness to trouble tends; Those of whom we thought unkindly oft become our warmest friends. Ugh.  It's one of those times in my life again when I am the object of criticism.  I can't explain it, but it comes in waves with me.  I can go a year or two without anyone saying anything, and then, BAM! People just can't stop finding things wrong with how I act, or what I say, and unbelievably, they feel the need to tell me about it.  I'm going on six months now of various criticisms, and I'm so very tired of it all. This past week, I have cried myself to sleep a

I was given a homework assignment by Glo's homeroom/science teacher this past week.  Here's what the sheet said that she brought home: Yes, you are getting a homework assignment!  It can take us some time to know your child.  Some things about your child we may never know unless you tell us.  This activity gives you a chance to tell me what you think I should know about your scholar.  In a million words or less, tell me about your child! Well, if anybody knows me, this is JUST my kind of assignment!  It isn't perfect (I know I'm forgetting some stories), but I wanted to keep it as a reminder to myself in later years of what Glo was like when she was 11. Hello Mr. McAninch, I just love this assignment.  I've been thinking long and hard about it.  I think the best way for you to get to know Glo is for me NOT to make a list of qualities she holds.  Instead, I'd like to share a few stories from her life that will allow YOU to figure out what she is all about. G

I can hardly believe my girl is 15!  We celebrated with a family party (including Brother Moran).  Dinner was completely chosen by Johannah--chicken divan for dinner, and chocolate crumble cake for dessert :-) Happy Birthday, Hannie!

In our church, most adults hold a “calling”.  What this really means is they have a job, or a specific way to serve within the local congregation.  We believe that this calling is inspired from God—it’s a specific way that he wants us to serve, so that we can either learn and grow ourselves, or so that we can help someone else. I have had more callings in the church than I can count, and with few exceptions, I have loved every one of them.  I have come to love people (adults, teens and kids) who I might never have met.  I have learned much--from how to organize a Christmas music program, to how to make a Sunday School lesson meaningful to apathetic teenagers.  I have served as president of the children’s organization, and I have been the leader of 30 young, single adults. With every calling comes a lot of work.  Of course, the amount of work one puts into a calling is up to an individual.  I choose to put everything into a calling.  I give up hours of my time, preparing lessons and a

This week is Johannah's birthday--she is turning 15!  Last year, we celebrated with a huge pool party, hosted by the Lees in Altoona.  Johannah (very unselfishly, I might add) expected nothing this year. Rachel, Johannah and Ruthie Much to her delight, her two closest friends, Rachel and Ruthie, were having NONE of that!  I got a text yesterday from Rachel, asking for my help in beginning a week-long birthday scavenger hunt for Johannah.  I sent Johannah out, walking the dogs (in the middle of the afternoon--a strange thing to ask indeed), and Rachel popped in, telling me what I needed to do.  Then, the hunt began. Here's what the initial letter said: Dear Johannah, Happy Birthday! Today marks the start of your birthday week, So get ready for a game of hide and seek. This card is the first of 15 birthday presents you'll receive within the next several days, You'll need to remember some funny memories to help you through this puzzling maze. The r

Last summer, while laid up with the ankle, I read The Help , a touching book to say the least.  Johannah quickly read it after me. When Glo was looking for new books to read this summer, I suggested The Help .  She reluctantly began it, but within pages, she too was hooked. With the arrival of the movie this summer, I promised her that at the conclusion of her reading, we would go and see the movie.  I knew it was based on the book, although not completely true to it.  Since Johannah had also read it, and since we didn't want to leave John home alone with his beloved SciFi channel, we invited everyone along and turned it into a Family Home Evening. Glo chose dinner at Outback Steakhouse beforehand, and we headed to the movie. It was interesting to see certain parts of the book that I adored omitted from the movie, and yet the movie seemed to focus on important issues that I had felt were missing from the book.  To me, it almost felt like a new story but with characters I