Okay, so yesterday was one of those Alexanders no good very bad days, but today will be better. I want to blog about the two major events that happened since I last blogged. I will in chronological order...
YAY FOR CHRISTMAS!
We had plans to go and spend Christmas with my family, but that didn't happen because Adam and I were both too sick, and we didn't want to get my sisters brand new baby sick. So we had our own little Christmas by ourselves. Adam stayed up til 6 cleaning, then he woke me up to open presents because he couldn't wait anymore. Adam surprised me with Guitar Hero and a sewing machine! I am so excited. He got a bunch of little stuff like a foot massager, and uno attacks, becuase he refused to tell me what he wanted for Christmas. It was cute. As soon as we opened presents Adam went to bed and I played guitar hero. It was a good time, until I fell asleep playing, at which time I took a nap. Then I woke up and started dinner. I made my first ham! It was soooo good, but it was huge and we STILL have some left in the freezer.
P
J elf came to visit Christmas eve and this was the results.
This was my first attempt at a ham. turned out REALLY good. :D
THis is one of the ways that Adam let me know that he loves me.
New years eve was pretty much the same. We were planning on going to a party but it was cancelled at the last minute so I went to the store and got some treats and we celebrated our first new year together as a couple watching movies, playing games and I got my first new years kiss. It was very very pleasant Well I love you all and hope you are having a great new year!
Sometimes you feel like a nut
The Lasst Straw
This story was shared in the ward Christmas Program today...it was really touching.
By: Paula McDonald
To truly share this season of love and laughter, even a little boy must first discover Christmas in his heart....
Everyone, unfortunately, was cooped up in the house that typical gray winter afternoon. And, as usual, the four little McNeals were at it again, teasing each other, squabbling, bickering, and always fighting over their toys.
At times like this, Ellen was almost ready to believe that her children didn't love each other, even though she knew that wasn't true. All brothers and sisters fight sometimes, of course, but lately her lively little bunch had been particularly horrid to each other, especially Eric and Kelly, who were only a year apart. The two of them seemed determined to spend the whole long winter making each other miserable.
"Give me that. It's mine!" Kelly screamed, her voice shrill.
It is not! I had it first," Eric answered stubbornly.
Ellen sighed as she listened to the latest argument. With Christmas only a month away, the house seemed sadly lacking in Christmas spirit. This was supposed to be the season of sharing and love, of warm feelings and happy hearts. A home needed more than just pretty packages and twinkling lights on a tree to fill the holidays with joy.
Ellen had only one idea. Years ago, her grandmother had told her about an old custom that helped people discover the true meaning of Christmas. Perhaps it would work for her family this year. It was certainly worth a try.
She gathered the children together and lined them up on the couch, tallest to smallest - Eric, Kelly, Lisa and Mike.
"How would you kids like to start a new Christmas tradition this year?" she asked. "It's like a game, but it can only be played by people who can keep a secret. Can everyone here do that?
"I can!" shouted Eric.
"I can keep a secret better than him!" yelled Kelly.
"I can do it!" chimed in Lisa.
"Me too. Me too," squealed little Mike. "I'm big enough."
"Well then, this is how the game works," Ellen explained. "This year we're going to surprise Baby Jesus when He comes on Christmas Eve by making Him the softest bed in the world. We're going to fill a little crib with straw to make it comfortable. But here's the secret part. The straw we put in will measure the good deeds we've done, but we won't tell anyone who we're doing them for."
The children looked confused. "But how will Jesus know it's His bed!" Kelly asked.
"He'll know," said Ellen. "He'll recognize it by the love we put in to make it soft."
"But who will we do the good deed for?" asked Eric, still a little confused.
"We'll do them for each other. Once a week we'll put all of our names in a hat, Daddy's and mine too. Then we'll each pick out a different name. Whoever's name we draw, we'll do kind things for that person for a whole week. But you can't tell anyone else whose name you've chosen. We'll each try to do as many favors for our special person as we can without getting caught. And for every good deed we do, we'll put another straw in the crib."
"Like being a spy!" squealed Lisa.
"But what if I pick someone's name that I don't like?" Kelly frowned.
Ellen thought about that for a minute. "Maybe you could use an extra fat piece of straw. And think how much faster the fat straws will fill up our crib. We'll use the cradle in the attic," she said. "And we can all go to the field behind the school for the straw."
Without a single argument, the children bundled into their wool hats and mittens, laughing and tumbling out of the house. The field had been covered with tall grass in summer, but now, dead and dried, the golden stalks looked just like real straw. They carefully selected handfuls and placed them in the large box they had carried with them.
"That's enough," Ellen laughed when the box was almost overflowing. "Remember it's only a small cradle."
So home they went to spread their straw carefully on a large tray Ellen never used. Eric, because he was the eldest, was given the responsibility of climbing into the attic and bringing down the cradle.
"We'll pick names as soon as Daddy comes home for dinner, Ellen said, unable to hide a smile at the thought of Mark's pleased reaction to the children's transformed faces and their voices, filled now with excited anticipation rather than annoyance.
At the supper table that night, six pieces of paper were folded, shuffled and shaken around in Mark's furry winter hat, and the drawing began. Kelly picked a name first and immediately started to giggle. Lisa reached into the hat next, trying hard to look like a serious spy. Mike couldn't read yet, so Mark whispered the name in his ear. Then Mike quickly ate his little wad of paper so no one would ever learn the identity of his secret person. Eric was the next to choose, and as he unfolded his scrap of paper, a frown creased his forehead. But he stuffed the name quickly into his pocket and said nothing. Ellen and Mark selected names and the family was ready to begin.
The week that followed was filled with surprises; it seemed the McNeal house had suddenly been invaded by an army of invisible elves. Kelly would walk into her room at bedtime to find her nightgown neatly laid out and her bed turned down. Someone cleaned up the sawdust under the workbench without being asked. The jelly blobs magically disappeared from the kitchen counter after lunch one day while Ellen was out getting the mail. And every morning, when Eric was brushing his teeth, someone crept quietly into his room and made the bed. It wasn't made perfectly, but it was made. That particular little elf must have had short arms because he couldn't seem to reach the middle.
"Where are my shoes?" Mark asked one morning. No one seemed to know, but suddenly, before he left for work, they were back in the closet again, freshly shined.
Ellen noticed other changes during that week too. The children weren't teasing or fighting as much. An argument would start, and then suddenly stop right in the middle for no apparent reason. Even Eric and Kelly seemed to be getting, along better and bickering less. In fact, there were times when all the children could be seen smiling secret smiles and giggling to themselves. And slowly, one by one, the first straws began to appear in the little crib. Just a few, then a few more each day. By the end of the first week, a little pile had accumulated.
Everyone was anxious to pick new names and this time there was more laughter and merriment than there had been the first time. Except for Eric. Once again, he unfolded his scrap of paper, glanced at it, and stuffed it in his pocket without a word.
The second week brought more astonishing events, and the little pile of straw in the manger grew higher and softer. There was more laughter, less teasing, and hardly any arguments could be heard around the house. Only Eric had been unusually quiet, and sometimes Ellen would catch him looking a little sad. But the straws in the manger continued to pile up.
At last, it was almost Christmas. They chose names for the final time on the night before Christmas Eve. As the sat around the table waiting for the last set of names to be shaken in the hat, the children smiled as they looked at their hefty pile of straws. They all knew it was comfortable and soft, but there was one day left and they could still make it a little deeper, a little softer, and they were going to try.
For the last time the hat was passed around the table. Mike Picked out a name, and again quickly ate the paper as he had done each week. Lisa unfolded hers carefully under the table, peeked at it and then hunched up her little shoulders, smiling. Kelly reached into the hat and grinned from ear to ear when she saw the name. Ellen and Mark each took their turn and handed the hat with the last name to Eric. As he unfolded the scrap of paper and glanced at it, his face crumpled and he seemed about to cry. Without a word, he turned and ran from the room.
Everyone immediately jumped up from the table, but Ellen stopped them. "No!" Stay where you are," she said firmly. "I'll go."
In his room, Eric was trying to pull on his coat with one hand while he picked up a small cardboard suitcase with the other.
"I'll have to leave," he said quietly through his tears. "If I don't, I'll spoil Christmas."
"But why? And where are you going?"
"I can sleep in my snow fort for a couple of days. I'll come home right after Christmas. I promise."
Ellen started to say something about freezing and snow and no mittens or boots, but Mark, who had come up behind her, gently laid his hand on her arm and shook his head. The front door closed, and together they watched from the window as the little figure with the sadly slumped shoulders trudged across the street and sat down on a snow bank near the corner. It was dark outside, and cold, and a few flurries drifted down on the small boy and his suitcase.
"Give him a few minutes alone," said Mark quietly. I think he needs that. Then you can talk to him."
The huddled figure was already dusted with white when Ellen walked across the street and sat down beside him on the snow bank.
"What is it, Eric? You've been so good these last weeks, but I know something's been bothering you since we first started the crib. Can you tell me, honey?"
Ah, Mom . . . don't you see?" he sniffled. "I tried so hard, but I can't do to it anymore, and now I'm going to wreck Christmas for everybody. With that, he burst into sobs and threw himself into his mother s arms.
"Mom." The little boy choked. "You just don't know, I got Kelly's name every time! And I hate Kelly! I tried Mom. I really did. I snuck in her room every night and fixed her bed. I even laid out her crummy nightgown. I let her use my race car one day, but she smashed it right into the wall like always! Every week, when we picked names, I thought it would be over. Tonight,
when I got her name again, I knew I couldn't do it anymore. If I try, I'll probably punch her instead. If I stay home and beat Kelly up. I'll spoil Christmas for everyone."
The two of them sat there, together, quietly for a few minutes and then Ellen spoke softly. "Eric I'm so proud of you. Every good deed you did should count double because it was hard for you to be nice to Kelly for so long, but you did those good deeds anyway, one straw at a time. You gave your love when it wasn't easy to give. And maybe that's what the spirit of Christmas is really all about. And maybe it's the hard good deeds and the difficult straws that make that little crib special. You're the one who's probably added the most important straws this year." Ellen paused, stroking the head pressed tightly against her shoulder. "Now, how would you like a chance to earn a few easy straws like the rest of us? I still have the name I picked in my pocket, and I haven't looked at it yet. Why don't we switch, for the last day? And it will be our secret."
Eric lifted his head and looked into her face, his eyes wide. "That's not cheating?"
"It's not cheating." And together they dried the tears, brushed off the snow, and walked back to the house.
The next day, the whole family was busy, cooking and straightening up the house for Christmas Day, wrapping last minute presents and trying hard to keep from bursting with excitement. But even with all the activity and eagerness, a flurry of new straws piled up in the crib, and by nightfall the little manger was almost overflowing. At different times while passing by, each member of the family, big and small, would pause and look at the wondrous pile for a moment, then smile before going on. But . . . who could really know? One more straw still might make a difference.
For that reason, just before bedtime, Ellen tiptoed quietly to Kelly's room to lay out the little blue nightgown and turn down the bed. But she stopped in the doorway surprised. Someone had already been there. The nightgown was laid across the bed, and a small red race car had been placed next to it on the pillow.
The last straw was Eric's after all.
21 December 2008
Merry Christams
My hubby is so sweet. He went to shave his head the other day and came out and this is what he did
A heart because he loves me so much :) It was really sweet. He shaved it as soon as I took the picture so that he could look professional for work.
Another thing that happened this past week we started celebrating Christmas! Woo hoo! This past Saturday we went with the Gale family to see "Babes in toyland" and we went to dinner and then to the temple lights. It was really fun. I love to see the magic that Christmas brings, and the excitement on the kids face when they get to see Santa Clause is euqal only to when they see Disneyland :D.
That being said, I wrote a poem in church on Sundayand I wanted to share it. it's called Christmas
It's not about ribbons, it's not about bows,
It's not about snow that sticks on your nose.
It's not about toys, that make all the noise,
Or even 'bout Santa, or good girls and boys.
It IS about a babe, born long, long ago,
who saved our souls from being tossed to and fro.
It IS 'bout love, both gi'vn and recieved,
it is about heaven so don' be decieved;
When you lay your head down on that next Christmas night,
Remember what happened, to give us all light.
These pictures were all taken at Temple square after the play.
17 December 2008
Rant
I've been ranting a lot lately. I promise this is the last time for awhile. FIRST some AWESOME news! I got a promotion at work! I get to stay home and be a virtual team lead! It's awesome! I get a one time allowance to help me set up the office, and they are going to pay for my internet every month, which is AWESOME. Once I get trained, Adam gets the car all the time, and I can stay at home and not be quite so stressed out about everything. I'm very excited!
Now for my rant. America was founded on Christian principles. It exsists so people can believe what the believe, without fear of persecution. I am thrilled that Prop 8 passed. It has nothing to do with denying rights to anybody, it has to do with retaining my own freedom. For you who opposed prop 8, its over. Leave it alone. You are preaching tolerance and open mindedness, but doesn't that seem a little hypocritical?" You don't like how I live my life, so I'm going to make you accept it?"
Things like the march on Salt Lake City, Prop 8 the musical (don't watch it, if you don't want to be offended) burning the Book of Mormon inside our churches, SHOOTING up our chruches trying to make us afriad to worship and express our beliefs is NOT tolerance. You say that we spread lies, but what about your lies? Your actions are made to terrorize us into bending to your will. This is not a communist country. This is a Representitive Democracy. The people have spoken. I personally will NOT let your fear tactics dictate my life! I will continue to live by my beliefs, following my Saviors teachings, and trying to become a better person each day. I'm not sorry for how I believe and while I believe that God loves you, as much as he loves me, I will NOT bend in the truth!
05 December 2008
It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas
HAPPY THANKSGIVING EVERYONE!!!
So I decorated our tree today, and took some pictures of our apartment, so here you go...if you were wondering what where we lived look
like.
Our kitchen
Dining room
Christmas Decorations
O Christmas Tree, o Christmas tree
Living Room
The opposite view of the living room if you look close you can see that we are watching the Thanksgiving "House" marathon.
The second bedroom. It's bigger than it looks.
The bathroom...it's not bigger than it looks :)
27 November 2008
I want one to!
So I've been thinking about this for a long time. I got my haircut. It looks like Kendra's...only rounder. Well I'll let you look at it.
Another thing, my nephews and nieces are so funny! Watch this video...
26 November 2008
Chuck Norris is NEVER wrong.
"Protestors of Proposition 8 in California (the marriage amendment) shoved aside a 69-year-old woman who was bearing a cross. They reportedly spit on her and stomped on her cross. They then aligned themselves in a human barricade, blocking the media from getting to or interviewing the woman.
Prop. 8 supporter Jose Nunez, 37, was assaulted brutally while distributing yard signs to other supporters after church services at the St. Stanislaus Parish in Modesto.
Calvary Chapel Chino Hills was spray painted by vandals after they learned that the church served as an official collection point for Prop. 8 petitions.
Letters containing white powder (obviously mimicking anthrax) were sent to the Salt Lake City headquarters of the Mormon church and to a temple in Los Angeles. (Thankfully, the FBI said the substance was nontoxic.)
The 25-year artistic director of the California Musical Theatre, who also happens to be a Mormon, was muscled to resign because of his $1,000 donation to the campaign to ban gay marriage in California.
A pro-homosexual, pro-anarchy organization named Bash Back marched into the middle of a church service and flung fliers and condoms to the congregants. They also hung a banner from the balcony that featured two lesbians in provocative positions at the pulpit.
And lastly, the tolerance-preaching activists also have taken their anger to the blogosphere, where posts have planted ideas ranging from burning churches to storming the citadels of government until our society is forced to overturn Prop. 8. You even can find donor blacklists online. The lists include everyone who financially backed Prop. 8 -- even those who gave as little as $46 -- with the obvious objective that these individuals will be bantered and boycotted for doing so.
What's wrong with this picture? Lots.
First, there's the obvious inability of the minority to accept the will of the majority. Californians have spoken twice, through the elections in 2000 and 2008. Nearly every county across the state (including Los Angeles County) voted to amend the state constitution in favor of traditional marriage.
Nevertheless, bitter activists simply cannot accept the outcome as being truly reflective of the general public. So they have placed the brainwashing blame upon the crusading and misleading zealotry of those religious villains: the Catholics, evangelical Protestants, and especially Mormons, who allegedly are robbing the rights of American citizens by merely executing their right to vote and standing upon their moral convictions and traditional views.
What's surprising (or maybe not so) is that even though 70 percent of African-Americans voted in favor of Proposition 8, protests against black churches are virtually nonexistent. And everyone knows exactly why: Such actions would be viewed as racist. Yet these opponents of Prop. 8 can protest vehemently and shout obscenities in front of Mormon temples without ever being accused of religious bigotry. There's a clear double standard in our society. Where are the hate-crime cops when religious conservatives need them?
There were many of us who passionately opposed Obama, but you don't see us protesting in the streets or crying "unfair." Rather, we are submitting to a democratic process and now asking how we can support "our" president. Just because we don't like the election outcome doesn't give us the right to bully those who oppose us. In other words, if democracy doesn't tip our direction, we don't swing to anarchy. That would be like the Wild West, the resurrection of which seems to be happening in these postelection protests.
I agree with Prison Fellowship's founder, Chuck Colson, who wrote: "This is an outrage. What hypocrisy from those who spend all of their time preaching tolerance to the rest of us! How dare they threaten and attack political opponents? We live in a democratic country, not a banana republic ruled by thugs."
Regardless of one's opinion of Proposition 8, it is flat-out wrong and un-American to intimidate and harass individuals, churches and businesses that are guilty of nothing more than participating in the democratic process. Political protests are one thing, but when old-fashioned bullying techniques are used that restrict voting liberties and even prompt fear of safety, activists have crossed a line. There is a difference between respectfully advocating one's civil rights and demanding public endorsement of what many still consider to be unnatural sexual behavior through cruel coercion and repression tactics. One thing is for sure: The days of peaceful marches, such as those headed up by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., seem to be long gone.
The truth is that the great majority of Prop. 8 advocates are not bigots or hatemongers. They are American citizens who are following 5,000 years of human history and the belief of every major people and religion: Marriage is a sacred union between a man and a woman. Their pro-Prop. 8 votes weren't intended to deprive any group of its rights; they were safeguarding their honest convictions regarding the boundaries of marriage.
On Nov. 4, the pro-gay community obviously was flabbergasted that a state that generally leans left actually voted right when it came to holy matrimony. But that's exactly what happened; the majority of Californians -- red, yellow, black and white -- voted to define the margins of marriage as being between one man and one woman. California is the 30th state in our union to amend its constitution in doing so, joining Florida and Arizona in this election. Like it or not, it's the law now. The people have spoken."
---Chuck Norris
