The Jenksters

Some kids just know who they are

2011-05-09T18:31:00.000-07:00

Tyler age 5

Tyler age 13

Tyler age 25

Boots - one of the best

2011-04-30T19:38:00.000-07:00

On the evening of November 3, 1992, a skinny little black kitten showed up at our kitchen window and begged to be adopted. I was able to resist. Scott was not. When he came home from work that night, he brought the kitten in and put it in bed with me. A done deal.

It's easy to remember the date because it was election day. Bill Clinton--who had a cat that looked a lot like this kitten--was elected president that day. Boots and Socks both got new homes.

For 18 and a half years Boots guarded our home. We loved every day with her.

She was an outdoor cat for years, having no interest in coming inside. Occasionally, on especially cold nights she would sleep in Tyler's room, but it wasn't until one night when I made her stay in the bathroom with a litter box--and use the litter box--that she was trusted in the house much.

A little wisp of a cat, with fur as soft as a rabbit, Boots ran the place. She would slowly walk into the dog run, and Max and Ginger would stand and watch her eat some of their dog food. We learned a lot about an alpha presence from that little thing.

When new houses were being built in the field behind our house, Boots would bring home the biggest, gnarliest rats and lay them at the door for us. We felt protected and provided for.

The kids always were a bit wary of her friskiness. She loved to be petted, but she used her claws and teeth to control things (in a loving way, of course).

One bittersweet memory I have of Boots is of that awful New Year's Eve when Tyler (age 18? 19?) walked home from SLC. He arrived about three in the morning, unwilling to talk about it. He must have been chilled to the bone because he went out and sat in the hot tub. I remember walking into the dark kitchen, looking out, and seeing in the moonlight that Boots was up on the edge of the hot tub, rubbing along Tyler's head. I felt such gratitude for that cat, for loving him, and offering him the comfort that he would accept.

As she aged, she spent one winter in the upstairs bathroom. Some visitors surely thought it curious to have a cat with them in the bathroom, but I think we all enjoyed the company.

For the last couple of years, she mostly stayed in the laundry. She occasionally enjoyed sunning on a warm day, but seemed happiest in the peace and quiet of her room downstairs.

Every one of us knows the sweet loving comfort of a cat coming and lying by us (or usually on us) when we are sick--or just stationary. We have had so many loving cats. How lucky we've been. Boots was the last of the old guard.

She is buried up at the base of the ornamental cherry tree, one of Tyler's favorite places. She was a great girl and is greatly missed.

What I'm excited about this month

2010-02-07T19:39:00.000-08:00

Take a look at the photo below. Housewives (and other food shoppers), how much do you think that produce would cost? Grapefruits, bananas, apples, asparagus, zuchini, cucumbers, romaine lettuce, bell peppers, pears, carrots, tangerines... How much? $25? $20? Wrong -- Thanks to my sister Karen, I have joined a local food co-op and I got that food for $15. Basically right off the truck--without the middle men--no food wholesaler (bye, A to Z produce!), no friendly produce guy at Dick's.

The co-op was organized in Arizona, and they send trucks up this way every week, overnight Friday, for pick up on Saturday. You never know what you'll get for sure. My first week I signed up for the pick up in Layton. This past Saturday, I picked up at the West Bountiful City Hall. Here's what I got...

Again, $15.

Below is the Mexican pack I got the first week for $7.50 and the next one is the Italian pack (also $7.50) from this week. By the way, those tortillas in the Mexican pack were unbelievably wonderful.

So... it's fritattas for breakfast, fajitas for lunch, big pans of sauteed veggies for dinner--nightly, 2 bananas a day and an apple and a mandarin orange or tangerine. It takes a concerted effort to eat this stuff, but it's what we love (Tyler and Daniel would roll their eyes at this comment) and what we should be eating. Today (Sunday) I made roasted cauliflower and garlic in pasta, marinara with fresh basil, and asparagus.

It's so delicious and wonderful. If you're interested, the website is bountifulbaskets.org

Final photo - the cutest baby I know. My new grand-niece Jenna Christine Levie. So cute (and I love her name, which is my name, except mine is little Jenna. I kept the whole "we share the same name" thing to myself until after the official naming because I didn't want all of the other aunts, cousins, etc. to feel bad--until now.)

P.S. Send zuchini recipes.

Sew Cool

2010-01-07T17:18:00.000-08:00

Mom's quilting frames had a semi-permanent residence in the living room as we grew up. Made of some incredibly hard wood, they had narrow strips of denim attached along each side of the frame. Quilt after quilt was pinned to those strips of denim, and for days--sometimes many, many days--my mother would sit and stitch. She quilted--mostly single-handedly--literally dozens of quilts. We girls would occasionally pull up a chair, but I'm sure we (at least I) never made much of a significant dent in the job. As we grew older, she quilted less and tied quilts more often. She gave away so many quilts to newlyweds and new babies. She was not interested in the piecing of quilts, but she loved the quilting.

Until my sister MaryLynn--anticipating a first grandchild--became interested in quilting, none of us girls had carried on this hobby of Mom's. Thanks to MaryLynn's coaching, and motivated by the beautiful lap quilts she has made in the last couple of years, I am a quilter. (Can I claim the title after only one quilt? Well, I did. I've said it. I have quilted, therefore I am a quilter.)

Below is my first pieced quilt, a nine-patch variation (I think?), based thematically on herbs. Why? Because herbs are wonderful, and green is a favorite color around here.

The above pillow was a little experiment. I want to make a quilt with 15 of the above star pattern, but I wasn't sure I was up to the task of piecing that pattern. I tested it on a Christmas pillow. It's not perfect, but it gave me the confidence that I can do it. So, Winter Star quilt is in the line-up.

Below is a scrap quilt Krista made for her boyfriend for Christmas. Allison also made one. (Did we take a picture, Alli?)

Next, a "quick" little appliqued wall hanging. Hah, right. This project was fun for the first two days -- the applique part (Thanks, Maggie, for doing most of the zigzagging.) After that, not so fun. Sort of wore me out. Wasn't finished until after Christmas, so it's packed up with Christmas stuff. Maybe when I take it out in 11 months, it will make me happy and the painful work will be forgotten. Like happens with childbirth.

Below, Maggie took scraps and made this cute little pieced quilt/sleeping mat for her grimy, entitled Westie, who surely doesn't appreciate it enough, but Maggie doesn't care.

Next, not exactly quilting, but reflective of my renewed interest in sewing--aprons for my girls. Maggie and I picked the fabrics, then I sewed them over Christmas break while the kids were sleeping (any time before 11 a.m.). I used the scraps I had left to make a little apron for Maggie

Finally, the fabric for my next quilt. It somehow seems wrong to take so many perfectly good-sized pieces of fabric and cut them into dozens of 2 1/2 and 3 inch squares. But it's exciting to imagine how they will all come together...hopefully into a quilt that looks like a field of daisies and red poppies.

That's the new hobby. As I look back, despite all the hundreds and hundreds of hours she spent quilting, I don't think my mother ever used it as an excuse to skip cooking a single dinner. Well, I don't either. Because I gave up needing an excuse years ago!

Thanksgiving Weekend

2009-11-28T21:26:00.001-08:00

To Autumn

2009-11-01T19:15:00.000-08:00

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness!

Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun.

(Just a little piece of Keats's amazing poem about this beautiful season.)

We've been enjoying the fall. Each beautiful day is so precious because we know what's coming (and unlike Daniel, most of us aren't that excited about it).

Some fall stuff follows:

Maggie's first violin concert at CJH.

It brought back memories of Tyler's days in the orchestra.

Scott and I had so much fun taking the dogs up in the foothills above Centerville yesterday.

Those dogs are the most willing hiking companions. You never have to ask them twice.

See the picture below to get a sense of the cheerful additude we got when we made Daniel and Maggie go along on the hike today.

We actually had a great time. Daniel's smiling on the inside.

Halloween. Maggie and her friend McKenna--with their best 80s look going. McKenna's mom made Maggie's bangs look...actually a lot like the bangs I had circa 1986.

I know, I know, another blog post ending with Scott sitting in front of the fire. But this actually was a pretty cool fire. Scott's idea, Halloween night, a big fire on the driveway and corn dogs and apple juice for the trick or treaters. We sat out there for about three hours and had a great time.

What I don't want to forget

2009-09-30T15:13:00.000-07:00

I went to Provo and cooked dinner for my parents Friday. They celebrated another anniversary last week, 58 years. Their life is a bit slower these days, but I know all my siblings agree that it is sweet and satisfying to see the companionship they have enjoyed in their later years. I loved the visit so much, I thought I would blog a few things I never want to forget:

1. My parents only have one “point of contention,” as my dad calls it: which way their wedding photo faces on top of the TV cabinet. My dad likes it pointing forwards—towards their easy chairs—so he can look at the photo. My mom turns it at an angle, so she (“she” in the photo) can be “looking at her kids” –our family photos on the wall adjacent to the TV. Friday, Mom was winning. (But Dad was getting ready to walk by and switch it again.)

2. Ever the farmer, my dad goes out each morning and “harvests” a rosebud. His rosebushes are gigantic, and I love that an important part of his daily routine is bringing a single, beautiful rose inside to share with Mom.

3. My dad likes to cook something “a little gourmet” for Saturday morning breakfast. Since Dad does all of the cooking these days, he makes Saturday breakfast something special, like waffles or egg in the bread. He asked me to leave three pieces of the French bread after dinner so he could make extra-gourmet egg in the bread for breakfast.

4. Loud music can be used for pain management. Dad loves to tell his morning routine. Up early, go downstairs, turn on the gas fireplace to heat the carpet, do stretching with light weights and bands as he watches the opening of the stock market, and then, onto the treadmill for the final loosening up. I asked him if he listens to his Bose stereo. He proceeded to push the button and unleash some horrifying—Mexican polka, maybe?—extremely loud music. He has it pointed toward the treadmill, and remarked, “I play it about that loud, to drown out the pain!” Finally, after this warmup he heads for the golf course or the Orem rec center pool. The happy news is that he suffers with much less back pain than he has for years.

5. When I suggested that we should put on a clean tablecloth for dinner, the woman who washed the bed linens and night clothes for nine people WEEKLY for decades said, “We’ll just put the dishes on, and then we won’t see that the tablecloth is dirty.” What?

Well, it was great. There were other highlights I should probably only tell you in person: Mom’s comment about s-e-x, Dad’s “shudder” at the name of a certain crazy TV/radio talkshow host, fun stuff like that. They speak with so much love and gratitude about my siblings who go over every week—Marlene to do yardwork, MaryLynn to help with myriad projects and doctor visits, Steven and Trish and all that they take on—along with the rest of us who get down there when we can.

I enjoyed this so much that I think "What I Don't Want to Forget" will become a regular blog feature.

Summer has come and passed...wake me up when September ends

2009-08-29T19:47:00.000-07:00

Just like that, it's over. And here we go again with another school year. The house is a little quieter (early to bed, yes!) with Allison and Krista in Logan. It's still too hot to say there is an autumn nip in the air, but I'm sure it will come.

After a week of school, I realize that I really do like my job. I just wish I didn't have to go to it so often.

What I miss most about summer? That's easy. It's the mornings. Getting up and going for a long dog walk, coming home and sitting in the back yard alone, listening to the birds, enjoying the quiet of the house when everyone is still in bed. I. Love. Those. Moments. And one other thing--days when there is absolutely nothing on the calendar. No obligations to go anywhere all day long.

However, if everyday was like that I surely wouldn't appreciate it as much as I do knowing that those precious moments will have to be put off for another school year.

Some photos from Summer 2009:

Maggie's first year at YW camp. Here she is around the campfire with Hannah and McKenna.

We took a beautiful hike with the Young Women up around Causey Reservoir.

Do much yoga? Below, demonstrated by Cooper is what the perfect Downward Dog is supposed to look like. (I know, he makes it look so easy: back flat--not rounded, sit bones to the sky. Must be a reason for the name of the position. Note: he and Daisy also do a great Upward Dog.)

The baby turns 12. So hard to believe. She smiles--sort of, along with Allison, who loves a good photo op. The cake is one of Krista's first efforts with fondant. No, it wasn't supposed to look like a hat.

Here come the braces.

A Clark family reunion at Ponderosa Zion Ranch near the east entrance to Zion National Park in June was a blast.

Below, my brother-in-law Ernie enjoys a refreshing moment in the Zion Narrows. Scott, Ernie, another brother-in-law--Eric Olson--, nephew Stephen Olson, niece Melissa Ehlert and her husband Steve, and a few of Eric's friends, hiked the Narrows (all 17 miles) one day. Scott said it is, perhaps, the most beautiful hike he's ever taken.

Eric took some of us on a backcountry hike one day. We lucked out and enjoyed overcast skies, even some rain sprinkles felt good. Hot sun would have caused much pain as we crossed the navajo sandstone, and we had already suffered so much going up and down soft sand dunes.

They just don't look that impressive in the photo below, but when we saw this group of bighorn sheep we were so excited--and they seemed closer than the photo indicates.

A rest on the hike. Allison, niece Jessica, Tyler, nephew Lindon (basically right off the plane from his mission in Tijuana), and brother-in-law Eric Bluth.

On the Riverwalk trail, Tyler and Daniel.

August means a trip to Newport Beach, camping at the Newport Dunes with Scott's cousins.

Maggie and I take a break on the daily hike from the beach back to wherever we were able to find a parking spot.

Above, Scott's special sauce--Desitin--for warding off sunburn.

Above: Two longboards, an ocean breeze, a school playground on the beach, and a beach sheet = a good opportunity for a little sailing.

We love Newport.

The perfect ending to the summer was the wedding of the perfect couple, my niece Jessica and her groom, Taylor (as close to perfect as anyone has a right to be). Rain in the morning cleared off for an absolutely beautiful reception in Karen and Ernie's backyard. Simply perfect.

Below, the sister of the bride, Nicole (a brand new 5th grade teacher!) and her husband Travis. (We're big fans of Travis and his dry, understated wit.)

Sweet Krista.

Below, my parents, Colleen and Wayne. They tell us that getting old is no fun, but they sure stay on the move and in good spirits every (painful) step of the way.

The next two pictures are of my younger brother Steven's children (along with wife Trish, of course). Daniel--my kids call him "Wee Daniel" so as not to confuse him with our own "Big Daniel," and since he's half Irish it seems to fit him just right. And Maeve, the cutest little three year. They were born many years after the bulk of the grandchildren, and they have been such a joy to my parents. Everybody should be so lucky as to get cute new grandkids in their 80s.

Allison with, that's right, two bouquets, because she is the most determined bouquet catcher out there. All of the girls in the family have learned just to stand back when the bouquet is thrown. The girls on the other side of the wedding don't know this, so there could have been scratches, bruises, or scars as a result of the latest toss. I know she's catching it, not because she's in any hurry to get married, but because she loves beautiful flowers. Right, Alli?

And finally...

There is nothing Scott enjoys more than a fire in the backyard in the evening. I have to agree, it really doesn't get any better than that.

The first post

2009-07-20T13:57:00.000-07:00

On my list of goals for the summer (why do I make the stupid list, I'm asking), I included "create blog." Now, the summer is half over--more than half--and I would like to be able to check off something. So, here goes: the first posting.

We're having a fun and crowded summer with all five kids at home. Krista is tolerating having the family room serve as her bedroom. No privacy and she shares it with the dogs when they are in their crates, but not as cozy as Tyler's summer bedroom: the storage room. We used to all fit in the house, and all in bedrooms, but somehow that just seems impossible now. It's been a summer of ups and downs, like every season, I guess. Like life. Mostly, we are just cherishing this time when we are all together (although you could probably count the number of times all 7 of us have been in the house at the same time on one hand).

I'll post a few photos from a day at Pineview.

Taking a break before the next round of tubing.

The three girls.

With those new braces, our baby is looking too old.