This was our second Christmas in Idaho with just the two of us. I had moments of sorrow thinking about our families and how I wished we were with them, but C'est la Vie!
We had a wonderful time together. We spent Christmas Eve with some great friends, Danny and Heather Hanline, watching "A Christmas Story", playing Carcassonne, popping our English poppers and wearing our crowns (thanks Heather), and eating eating eating. Later, Scott and I opened our Christmas Eve pajamas--a Larkins family tradition, put out milk and cookies for Santa, snuggled :) and went to bed.
In the morning, Scott was so happy to see that Santa came! We opened presents from our dear family, ate breakfast, played with our new "toys", went to see "Sherlock Holmes", came home, cooked our lovely Christmas dinner, ate, watched "Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince" (a gift from Scott), snuggled again, went to bed! Of course, that's the simplistic way of telling about our day. But we had lots of fun.
The day after Christmas we drove up to Targhee to go skiing again. I think Scott was more excited about that than Christmas. he was jumping up and down on the bed begging me to hurry so we could get on the road.
This time, I didn't fall once while skiing. But I did fall off the ski lift, jump off the ski lift, and get hit by the ski lift. SKI LIFT and I, apparently, are not friends. In fact, we're enemies. I don't know what I did to him. But he has it out for me.
Needless to say, I was super embarrassed. Mostly, because a million people were watching me when these ski lift altercations occurred. Boy does SKI LIFT time his vengeance well. Scott said I could use his ski mask if I wanted to hide my face. I didn't.
Aside from that....I had a great Christmas.
One thing that made it so fun was incorporating my Scandinavian heritage into some of the decorations and traditions:
1.Red and white paper heart baskets on the tree. Santa brings them Christmas Eve filled with tiny oranges and candy.
2. A piece of tin nailed above the door to keep the Christmas trolls away.
3. Lots and lots of candles and light. Scandinavians believe that whatever the candlelight touches will be blessed in the new year.
There are many more I want to try...like actually making my own candles, baking cookies in the shape of fish, and celebrating St. Lucia's Day. Isn't ancestry and tradition wonderful! So many fun things to do.
I hope everyone's Christmas was filled with warmth, excitement and love! God Jul!
Monday, December 28, 2009
Friday, December 25, 2009
me + church: Happy Christmas!
This Christmas Season I have been on a quest. I really wanted to appreciate Christmas for what it is--the celebration of the birth of Christ. I love the presents and traditions. I think they're necessary and contribute to the aura of a fun exciting Christmas. But, I'm sure like a lot of you, I wanted to try to focus on the spirituality of the meaning behind the season.
So I read my scriptures. Prayed. The little things. I felt good. But to be honest, I hadn't done much at all. I think I was complacent. It's so easy to be that way and so hard to recognize when I am. But still, I felt good.
Soon I would feel even better. My mom is the Relief Society President in her ward and for the month of December/Christmas she had a Christmas Advent Calendar printed up for each sister. I was blessed to get one. I say blessed because it truly was a blessing. It might seem insignificant, but this Advent Calendar changed my perspective on Christmas.
Each day held a challenge or assignment, a quote and a hymn. All of them revolved around Christ and the Christmas Season. I promised myself I would follow it--an easy way to achieve my goal of trying to be spiritual and not materialistic.
But what pearls! What wonderful and mind-opening quotes!
One that really touched me was on charity. Honestly, I've never really understood it. Yes, the quick answer is The Pure Love of Christ. But what does that mean?:
"Charity is accepting someone's differences, weaknesses, and shortcomings; having patience with someone who has let us down; or resisting the impulse to become offended when someone doesn't handle something the way we might have hoped. Charity is refusing to take advantage of another's weakness and being willing to forgive someone who has hurt us. Charity is expecting the best of each other." --Marvin J. Ashton
So that's what charity is! Thank heavens for latter-day prophets and apostles! Charity is love, but oh-so much more detailed than simply loving or serving someone.
Thinking of Christ not just at Christmas:
"Thoughts of Jesus. . . (should) be far more frequent and much more constant in all times and seasons of our lives. How often do we think of the Savior? How deeply and how gratefully and how adoringly do we reflect on his life? How central to our lives do we know him to be?" --Howard W. Hunter
That one certainly knocked me down a peg or two. Sure, making the effort to be more spiritual at Christmas is great. But it's not enough. I should be making the effort all year long.
And this was the kicker. The quote that illuminated the light bulb in my heart and mind:
"Each of us is a partaker of the experience called death. None escapes. Were we to remain unrescued, lost would be paradise sought. Lost would be family loved. Lost would be friends remembered. Realizing this truth, we begin to appreciate the supreme joy which accompanied the birth of the Savior of the world. How glorious the pronouncement of the angel: 'Behold a virgin shall bring forth a son and thou shalt call his name JESUS for he shall save his people from their sins.'" --President Thomas S. Monson
Wow. Suddenly, everything just clicked for me. Before, my thoughts of Christ were simple. He was a baby. We celebrate his birth. He came to the earth. He was the divine made flesh.
I've been missing the big picture.
He was born a Savior. A baby, too. But first a Savior. He was destined to die for me. That's why the shepherds and wise men wept over and praised him. Not just because he was the Son of God. But because they were beholding their Savior-- sent to pay and die for their sins. It is a bittersweet joy. Such gratitude and awe for Heavenly Father and Christ's willingness for Him to come and save mankind. But if I had been a shepherd there, what guilt and sorrow I would have felt! To kneel there and behold the baby that would die for me because he loved me. My Savior.
Only now have I finally started to imagine the reverence and overwhelming love that must have pervaded that lowly stable in Bethlehem. I wish I were a better writer and could really convey the enlightenment I found. But that's what I love about the gospel. It is so personal and the spirit speaks individually to each of us in ways that maybe only we can comprehend.
"O Holy Night" just became my favorite Christmas Carol this year because the lyrics convey this awe over the Savior's birth:
O holy night, the stars are brightly shining;
It is the night of the dear Savior's birth!
Long lay the world in sin and error pining,
Till He appeared and the soul felt its worth.
A thrill of hope, the weary soul rejoices,
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.
Fall on your knees, O hear the angel voices!
O night divine, O night when Christ was born!
O night, O holy night, O night divine!
How grateful I am for the gospel of Christ. How grateful I am for this season and for each day of my life to celebrate my Savior's birth and the atoning sacrifice He made for me. Because He died for me I am found and can live forever with my family. "Because of our Savior's Atonement, in death's darkness there is no sting" (Robert D. Hales). I know my Savior lives. I know He will come again. James E. Faust prophesied: "I testify that the Savior will come again and that at His second coming some will say. . . 'What are these wounds in thine hands and in thy feet?' He will show the wounds in His hands, wrist, and feet and they will ask when and where He received these wounds. He will answer, 'I am Jesus that was crucified. I am the Son of God.'"
How grateful I am for that tiny baby for He is my Savior.
So I read my scriptures. Prayed. The little things. I felt good. But to be honest, I hadn't done much at all. I think I was complacent. It's so easy to be that way and so hard to recognize when I am. But still, I felt good.
Soon I would feel even better. My mom is the Relief Society President in her ward and for the month of December/Christmas she had a Christmas Advent Calendar printed up for each sister. I was blessed to get one. I say blessed because it truly was a blessing. It might seem insignificant, but this Advent Calendar changed my perspective on Christmas.
Each day held a challenge or assignment, a quote and a hymn. All of them revolved around Christ and the Christmas Season. I promised myself I would follow it--an easy way to achieve my goal of trying to be spiritual and not materialistic.
But what pearls! What wonderful and mind-opening quotes!
One that really touched me was on charity. Honestly, I've never really understood it. Yes, the quick answer is The Pure Love of Christ. But what does that mean?:
"Charity is accepting someone's differences, weaknesses, and shortcomings; having patience with someone who has let us down; or resisting the impulse to become offended when someone doesn't handle something the way we might have hoped. Charity is refusing to take advantage of another's weakness and being willing to forgive someone who has hurt us. Charity is expecting the best of each other." --Marvin J. Ashton
So that's what charity is! Thank heavens for latter-day prophets and apostles! Charity is love, but oh-so much more detailed than simply loving or serving someone.
Thinking of Christ not just at Christmas:
"Thoughts of Jesus. . . (should) be far more frequent and much more constant in all times and seasons of our lives. How often do we think of the Savior? How deeply and how gratefully and how adoringly do we reflect on his life? How central to our lives do we know him to be?" --Howard W. Hunter
That one certainly knocked me down a peg or two. Sure, making the effort to be more spiritual at Christmas is great. But it's not enough. I should be making the effort all year long.
And this was the kicker. The quote that illuminated the light bulb in my heart and mind:
"Each of us is a partaker of the experience called death. None escapes. Were we to remain unrescued, lost would be paradise sought. Lost would be family loved. Lost would be friends remembered. Realizing this truth, we begin to appreciate the supreme joy which accompanied the birth of the Savior of the world. How glorious the pronouncement of the angel: 'Behold a virgin shall bring forth a son and thou shalt call his name JESUS for he shall save his people from their sins.'" --President Thomas S. Monson
Wow. Suddenly, everything just clicked for me. Before, my thoughts of Christ were simple. He was a baby. We celebrate his birth. He came to the earth. He was the divine made flesh.
I've been missing the big picture.
He was born a Savior. A baby, too. But first a Savior. He was destined to die for me. That's why the shepherds and wise men wept over and praised him. Not just because he was the Son of God. But because they were beholding their Savior-- sent to pay and die for their sins. It is a bittersweet joy. Such gratitude and awe for Heavenly Father and Christ's willingness for Him to come and save mankind. But if I had been a shepherd there, what guilt and sorrow I would have felt! To kneel there and behold the baby that would die for me because he loved me. My Savior.
Only now have I finally started to imagine the reverence and overwhelming love that must have pervaded that lowly stable in Bethlehem. I wish I were a better writer and could really convey the enlightenment I found. But that's what I love about the gospel. It is so personal and the spirit speaks individually to each of us in ways that maybe only we can comprehend.
"O Holy Night" just became my favorite Christmas Carol this year because the lyrics convey this awe over the Savior's birth:
O holy night, the stars are brightly shining;
It is the night of the dear Savior's birth!
Long lay the world in sin and error pining,
Till He appeared and the soul felt its worth.
A thrill of hope, the weary soul rejoices,
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.
Fall on your knees, O hear the angel voices!
O night divine, O night when Christ was born!
O night, O holy night, O night divine!
How grateful I am for the gospel of Christ. How grateful I am for this season and for each day of my life to celebrate my Savior's birth and the atoning sacrifice He made for me. Because He died for me I am found and can live forever with my family. "Because of our Savior's Atonement, in death's darkness there is no sting" (Robert D. Hales). I know my Savior lives. I know He will come again. James E. Faust prophesied: "I testify that the Savior will come again and that at His second coming some will say. . . 'What are these wounds in thine hands and in thy feet?' He will show the wounds in His hands, wrist, and feet and they will ask when and where He received these wounds. He will answer, 'I am Jesus that was crucified. I am the Son of God.'"How grateful I am for that tiny baby for He is my Savior.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
trips + treats: Powder Pigs
Last week, Scott and I were so lucky to both have the same day off! Scott has been dying to go snowboarding. He's also been dying for me to go with him. Uncle Donald can attest to this...I just don't have the desire to fling myself down a slippery mountain with the definite possibility that I will fall. And when Natasha Richardson died earlier this year after falling while skiing, let's just say Scott was disappointed in my answer, "NO."
But...He really really really wanted me to go, and I realized I need to not be so scared of life. (Needles are at the top of my list.)
So I went. And surprisingly, I was a little excited! A new adventure. We drove up to Targhee in Alta, WY. The roads were pretty good. We stopped for breakfast at the Bunkhouse Bistro (where it was freezing, seriously, i was shaking eating my Denver Omelette).
The drive from town to the slopes was gorgeous. The densely-packed, towering trees looked like they were sprinkled with powdered sugar from a giant colander in the skies. It was a beautiful day.
We park and dress. (I borrowed some friend's stuff but had to wear Scott's old pants--I looked like a thug.) We got our lift tickets then rented my ski stuff. No snowboarding for me. I felt like an idiot as the girl is explaining everything to me. She would ask me a question and I would have to say, "Uhh. I don't know. Don't remember. The last time I went skiing I was probably 12." I felt like I was 12.
So I get strapped into my boots and feel like Mr. Roboto as I clunk around awkwardly trying, but failing, to carry my equipment. My skis and poles are flinging everywhere and Scott is warning people to give me room as I try to watch the pros and see how they carry them easily.I kept pleading to Scott for help, but he was of no use. "I don't know," he said about a million times. "I've never skiied before."
We get to the start of the Bunny Hill path. (I wasn't feeling that adventurous. Black Diamonds, Blue Squares, they're all the same to me, and at that point they all spelled death.) So I step into my skiis and hear the CLICK. Then I have a horrible, sickening realization. I'm stuck. How do I get out? Panic. What if I need to get out and I can't?! Help! Seriously, I had a little bit of a panic attack. I couldn't remember how to get out and the girl had not told me. Scott didn't know. I freaked a little.
So I did a little more skiier watching and finally saw how to get out of them. duh. Use your poles to release them at the back of the binding. All good. For now.
We get to the lift, and I'm too slow, so the lift guy has to frantically reach a button before I'm side-blinded and catapulted into the snow by the lift. Embarassing. He says with a chuckle, "You gotta be a little faster and get to the line." Really? You don't say?! Thanks for the advice Einstein. I would've if I COULD'VE!
Scott apologized. He thought I knew how to get on the lift. 12! I was 12 when I last did this! I don't know anything!
I guess that's not entirely true. I remembered one thing--angle your skies inward to a point--that means SLOW. I'm good with SLOW. We've been life-long buddies. So SLOW and I hang out all day.
Scott was so sweet to me though. I know he was dying to go a little faster and jump into that powder, but he stayed with me as best he could and steered clear of the powder because it made my skis wiggle and then I'd take a tumble. That was probably a hilarious sight. I was literally a powder pig three times and I didn't find it to be pleasant. What's the word? Oh yeah...mortifying. That was another thing the girl neglected to tell me. How do I get up? I had no idea. And boy is it hard. I sat on my butt and tried to use my poles as a means to hoist my bod up. No good. Too tiring. So I had to reposition. No good either. That hurts. I felt like my ankles were going to snap under the weight of my constricting boots and long awkward skis. Finally, I found a good position on my side and using all my strength got up. It was probably a good ten minutes of knee-slapping entertainment for everyone watching.
Aside from all the little mishaps and internal meltdowns. I had a blast! I was so surprised that I had fun. The snow fell softly as we glided down the mountains, I got braver with each run and eventually ditched my pal SLOW (he was holding me back) and started going pretty fast. I even started to weave like you're supposed to. But the best part was sipping hot chocolate together in the Lodge, watching the snow fall and pointing out the hilarious "Dumb and Dumber" snow outfits that some people wear.
It was a fun adventure spent with my best friend.
But...He really really really wanted me to go, and I realized I need to not be so scared of life. (Needles are at the top of my list.)
So I went. And surprisingly, I was a little excited! A new adventure. We drove up to Targhee in Alta, WY. The roads were pretty good. We stopped for breakfast at the Bunkhouse Bistro (where it was freezing, seriously, i was shaking eating my Denver Omelette).
The drive from town to the slopes was gorgeous. The densely-packed, towering trees looked like they were sprinkled with powdered sugar from a giant colander in the skies. It was a beautiful day.
We park and dress. (I borrowed some friend's stuff but had to wear Scott's old pants--I looked like a thug.) We got our lift tickets then rented my ski stuff. No snowboarding for me. I felt like an idiot as the girl is explaining everything to me. She would ask me a question and I would have to say, "Uhh. I don't know. Don't remember. The last time I went skiing I was probably 12." I felt like I was 12.
So I get strapped into my boots and feel like Mr. Roboto as I clunk around awkwardly trying, but failing, to carry my equipment. My skis and poles are flinging everywhere and Scott is warning people to give me room as I try to watch the pros and see how they carry them easily.I kept pleading to Scott for help, but he was of no use. "I don't know," he said about a million times. "I've never skiied before."
We get to the start of the Bunny Hill path. (I wasn't feeling that adventurous. Black Diamonds, Blue Squares, they're all the same to me, and at that point they all spelled death.) So I step into my skiis and hear the CLICK. Then I have a horrible, sickening realization. I'm stuck. How do I get out? Panic. What if I need to get out and I can't?! Help! Seriously, I had a little bit of a panic attack. I couldn't remember how to get out and the girl had not told me. Scott didn't know. I freaked a little.
So I did a little more skiier watching and finally saw how to get out of them. duh. Use your poles to release them at the back of the binding. All good. For now.
We get to the lift, and I'm too slow, so the lift guy has to frantically reach a button before I'm side-blinded and catapulted into the snow by the lift. Embarassing. He says with a chuckle, "You gotta be a little faster and get to the line." Really? You don't say?! Thanks for the advice Einstein. I would've if I COULD'VE!
Scott apologized. He thought I knew how to get on the lift. 12! I was 12 when I last did this! I don't know anything!
I guess that's not entirely true. I remembered one thing--angle your skies inward to a point--that means SLOW. I'm good with SLOW. We've been life-long buddies. So SLOW and I hang out all day.
Scott was so sweet to me though. I know he was dying to go a little faster and jump into that powder, but he stayed with me as best he could and steered clear of the powder because it made my skis wiggle and then I'd take a tumble. That was probably a hilarious sight. I was literally a powder pig three times and I didn't find it to be pleasant. What's the word? Oh yeah...mortifying. That was another thing the girl neglected to tell me. How do I get up? I had no idea. And boy is it hard. I sat on my butt and tried to use my poles as a means to hoist my bod up. No good. Too tiring. So I had to reposition. No good either. That hurts. I felt like my ankles were going to snap under the weight of my constricting boots and long awkward skis. Finally, I found a good position on my side and using all my strength got up. It was probably a good ten minutes of knee-slapping entertainment for everyone watching.
Aside from all the little mishaps and internal meltdowns. I had a blast! I was so surprised that I had fun. The snow fell softly as we glided down the mountains, I got braver with each run and eventually ditched my pal SLOW (he was holding me back) and started going pretty fast. I even started to weave like you're supposed to. But the best part was sipping hot chocolate together in the Lodge, watching the snow fall and pointing out the hilarious "Dumb and Dumber" snow outfits that some people wear.
It was a fun adventure spent with my best friend.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
trips + treats: Stud Muffin Matthew
Football, Skiing, Basketball, Mountain Biking, Baseball, Swimming, Extreme Sports...My stud-muffin boy cousins do it all! They are already little heartbreakers.
In California, I got to go to Matthew's football game. So proud of that guy! He is so tough and such a great kid. I remember when he was first born and I saw him for the first time. I thought, "That kid's gonna play football!" And I was right! He is amazing and I was so happy to watch his game. Of course they won and then headed to the Super Bowl for the third year in a row. Go Santa Clarita Wildcats! Go #79!
In California, I got to go to Matthew's football game. So proud of that guy! He is so tough and such a great kid. I remember when he was first born and I saw him for the first time. I thought, "That kid's gonna play football!" And I was right! He is amazing and I was so happy to watch his game. Of course they won and then headed to the Super Bowl for the third year in a row. Go Santa Clarita Wildcats! Go #79!
Tuesday, December 08, 2009
family + funnies: Fluffing Day!
My parents inherited a humongous fake Christmas Tree from my grandparents a few years ago. I mean, this guy's over 12 feet tall, or as my dad explained, it's two Spencers tall. And it's beautiful! It reminds me of the Christmas Tree in The Nutcracker, that grows larger and larger as the mice and dolls scamper out.
So every year, my dad pulls the mammoth tree out, shakes it a bit to make sure no little critters got in it, and hauls it into our entry. Then Fluffing Day begins! This year, my parents' house is on the Christmas Home Tour for our ward so it needed to be spectacular!
We all help (sometimes not willingly) to hook in the branches, pull them apart and FLUFF. And believe me there is a ton that needs fluffing.
Spencer and my dad had to get on the barstools to hoist the top part of the tree onto the rod. Mom kept saying, "Watch your fingers!" So of course, Spencer screams as soon as they hook it on and scares my mom into thinking that he got his fingers caught. haha. What would we do without our goofy Spencer?
It's a fun tradition in the end as we goof off, laugh, stay in our pajamas, scratch our arms on the branches, scare mom and have fun together as a family. Happy Fluffing Day!
So every year, my dad pulls the mammoth tree out, shakes it a bit to make sure no little critters got in it, and hauls it into our entry. Then Fluffing Day begins! This year, my parents' house is on the Christmas Home Tour for our ward so it needed to be spectacular!
We all help (sometimes not willingly) to hook in the branches, pull them apart and FLUFF. And believe me there is a ton that needs fluffing.
Spencer and my dad had to get on the barstools to hoist the top part of the tree onto the rod. Mom kept saying, "Watch your fingers!" So of course, Spencer screams as soon as they hook it on and scares my mom into thinking that he got his fingers caught. haha. What would we do without our goofy Spencer?
It's a fun tradition in the end as we goof off, laugh, stay in our pajamas, scratch our arms on the branches, scare mom and have fun together as a family. Happy Fluffing Day!
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