First Three Chapters

Dear readers,

Thank you for the unending support. I would never undergo a project like this if it wasn't for the few people who believe I have the talent to do it. I am very nervous, I have no idea if I am qualified to attempt such an adventure. I know I fall short in many ways - but you must start somewhere right? I can think of a million literary heros whose first works were simply awful. The point is to move forward and work on improving your skills, even if they are somewhat below standard. I will never get anywhere if I am not willing to fail a few times.

So, the first three chapters of my book are posted on LeenysLiterature. (You can find the link on the right side of your screen.) I apologize if it is not what you were hoping for. I did my best. Who knows - maybe I am just not cut out for novel writing. It is entirely different from writing a few random blog posts.

If you do find some room for improvement, or something that doesn't make sense, please let me know because I would like to fix it. Also, leave comments and let me know what you think. I think I would go crazy otherwise.

Well, enjoy.

Christmas Equation

I was so worried that Jordan, Jo and I would miss out on everything that makes Christmas Christmas this year. I felt discouraged because we had no family to spend the holiday with and had no grand activities planned.

Christmas Eve Jordan and I were discussing what we should do since we had nothing but a few chocolates to put in our stockings for Christmas morning. We decided to try out a new tradition that would fill up our stockings with gifts and not cost a thing.

Christmas Eve, after we had a picnic of crackers and cheese, meatballs,and chips by our tree, we grabbed some markers and a few pieces of paper and made eachother cards. I wrote a letter of gratitude to Jordan; for how much he loves me, for how much he has given me, and for what a great example he is to me. I thoroughly enjoyed writing that letter. It gave me the opportunity to think about the past year and all that Jordan has done for me. It is so wonderful to know that someone as incredible as Jordan loves me.

I also wrote a letter to Josephine about how lucky I am to be her mom, and how much I have learned about unconditional love and the happiness that must accompany such an incredible thing. I made promises I am sure I will break at one time or another, but it was good to write out what I hope to be, even if it is impossible. I think it is better to fall short of perfection than to never try for it and be overly content with mediocrity - especially when you are responsible for another person.

The next morning we opened our presents. Jordan got new piano music and a pair of gloves, and I got Les Miserables, Ivisible Man, and Now I Know What Love Is (they are books). If you think about it, it was a very good haul for people who have everything already. So many times it is the people who need the least that recieve the most.

Even though I am very excited to read Les Miserables and Invisible Man, and really enjoyed reading Now I Know What Love Is, the best Christmas gift I recieved this year was a small piece of folded cardstock tucked away in my stocking. My letter from Jordan was very sweet; it reaffirmed so many things I already know, but can never be reminded of too often. I will probably not read Les Miserables more than once (it will take me half a lifetime to get through it the first time), but I will read my little card from Jordan whenever I feel discouraged about my own inadequacy and need to be encouraged by his faith in me (so probably alot). What I love even more than reading about other's experiences, is experiencing my own daily miracle of genuine love from a good husband and a beautiful daughter. I firmly believe there is nothing to be treasured more than having love for others and then recieving that love in return.

I am a very rich woman. I love my little family with all my heart and know that they love me. My Christmas this year was missing many of the traditions I enjoy so much, but it definitely had the most important one.

Love has the power to lift us above our shortcomings and take us further than our best expectations. I wasn't expecting much this year, but I was happily surprised by the incredible gift I recieved in love.

To quote one of my favorite bands, "Love is all you need" - on Christmas and then on every other day too.

I sure hope I love enough. Not only when it is expected of me, but when I am not expected to as well. That was the whole point of Christ's birth anyways; to bless the world with a gift of infinite and all powerful love that enables us to become something more than we could ever be without Him. Christmas is a holiday of love; not pretzel jello and wrapping paper. And I never feel more of Christ's love in me than when I think about my husband and daughter.

I had a marvelous Christmas. I hope every Christmas is as good as this one has been. But I guess that depends on how much love I give to others, and that depends on how much I let Christ into my life.

So, the equation for a good Christmas:
                  
                                You + Christ's love + Others = A Very Merry Christmas Indeed

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!!!

My Plan for Public Education

Teenagers have no hope nowadays. Everyone is doomed to be psychotic and socially demented. There are three main options for education – public school, private school, and home school – none of these offer possibility for normalcy.

Public school is the largest form of education in America and, in my opinion, has the most potential for functioning at a progressive level. This blog post is a proposal to our congressmen. It involves the layout for a new form of public education that will eliminate the mixing of complete idiots with the rest of the student body: something I have felt needs to be done for a long time now.

I think it would be a good idea to start the beginning of each year holding interviews with every student to determine their level of worth; this would appear to be a form of abuse, but we all must take one for the team at some point, and it is better to start the sorting too early than too late – after those teenagers with a shot at normalcy have been contaminated by the psychos.

You could take everyone who was a spoiled brat, think they should have everything their way, and sit around playing with their iphones during class and throw them all into a ghetto classroom, with no windows, no heating, and very uncomfortable chairs. They then can be instructed in military style – lots of yelling, belittling, and hard truths that must be swallowed if there is any hope for these rich snobs to function properly in a productive society.

Then you could take everyone who is just plain lazy and put them in a progressive program. These students would start the day doing janitorial work; vacuuming, dusting, cleaning bathrooms, and picking up gum, for example. After this, they would be given a choice of different jobs that no one wants to do, and require very little education, intelligence, and skill. Then the despised jobs of society would not fall on those with low socio-economic status who are capable of greater things, but lack the funds for a college education.

Next would be the average adolescent group. This would undoubtedly be the largest group and would function perfectly. It would be like normal high school, except better. These useful members of the small high school system wouldn’t have to deal with the spoiled brats, and useless lazies that often destroy their group projects and make education miserable. We all know how awful it is to be stuck with someone who pretends they can’t speak English, just to get out of a project, or who thinks your name doesn’t exist because the computer doesn’t recognize it, or who doesn’t do anything other than reapply lipstick for an entire class period. This group would be those who are relatively smart, can maintain a good G.P.A when they put forth some effort, and have the potential for filling all the necessary roles of society at a working level. They would be permitted to attend high school dances, be members of clubs, raise their hands in class, and play sports.

The last group would be the exceptionals. These would include natural geniuses who fall into no other category and therefore have the most potential for important contributions to the society at large. They would be part of a program taught by guest speakers who tour for this purpose. These speakers would teach in their area of expertise and would be more than qualified for this role. No longer would students be stuck listening to an uninformed teacher make up ridiculous answers to questions. And they wouldn’t have to waste time finding word definitions for their homework. The majority of their work would be self-motivated. They would be given the tools to invent, create, and discover anything they wanted. They would be able to choose a specific area of interest, such as art, literature, chemistry, or calculus. No grades would be given, only recognition and encouragement. What is the incentive to do well then? Well, if their input is not up to par with the other students’, they are sent back to the average student group, the lazy student group, or the spoiled brat student group – whichever fits their problem best.

If you support my ideas please feel free to sign your name on a petition I will be sending out to friends and family. We must step up and take control of the disgusting system as it now stands, and work hard to make it functional and positive for the rising generation.

Please – think of the children.

P.S. - If anyone is wondering why I chose to write something so offensive and ridiculous it is because I have been reading Mark Twain. I always thought I hated Mark Twain, but as I have been attempting to find the exceptional in his work I have discovered that he was a literary genius. Then I began to wonder why I always believed he was nothing more than a grouchy old man who wrote stupid stories without a point. I realized my high school English teacher ruined Mark Twain for me. She was not very well informed when it came to the overarching purpose to his apparently empty writing, and so I was left to believe there was no meaning behind his bad grammar and confusing narratives.

So to honor this previously unappreciated hero of American literature I decided to write something in a style imitating his. I have fallen far below his level of obnoxious expertise. But, alas, it is my best effort. If I have offended and also made an interesting point, then I shall be satisfied.

Christmas Memories

Thursday night we put up our holiday plastic pine tree. It is kind of a pathetic tree, with branches falling off, but it makes our home feel a little more Christmasy, so it works very well.

I love the Christmas season. I love the music, I love all the lights, I love eating too much food, and I love baking cookies and then trying to decorate them. Most importantly, I love the family at Christmas time. When I was younger, my siblings and I would all climb into our van, carrying bags and bags of presents, a huge vat of cranberries, probably some cookies, and then a new toy we could each bring. I usually only had to carry my own toy because no one would trust me with anything else. My older sister Regina lived half her life in fear of me breaking something, which wasn't entirely irrational, cause it isn't uncommon for me to have accidents.

This year Jordan, Jo, and I are spending Christmas break alone, which, honestly, I find to be bittersweet. I am so happy I will be able to snuggle Jo and drink hot chocolate while Jordan plays the piano for us. That we can all quietly read the second chapter of Luke together. That we can make our way down to the duck pond and make sure those poor creatures have a Christmas dinner too. It will be a memorable year for us, because it is our first Christmas with Jo - and I know she is going to be a knock out in her red velour and fur trim dress.

As excited as I am for the opportunity I have to be with my own little family, I can't help feeling a little discouraged by our small numbers. To me Christmas should be a huge gathering, with enough food for a hundred that fifty people manage to stuff in and then spend the rest of the day feeling like a balloon with too much air - pop!

I probably feel this way because every year growing up we drove to my Grandma's house for Christmas. We ate at 1, ran around screaming in the snow for an hour, trying to trick each other into eating the yellow kind, ran over each other with sleds, and then sought refuge under a few giant pine trees until we went in to eat again at 3. Now that everyone was three sizes larger we would have our family fashion show. All of us would open our presents from uncles, aunts, and grandparents. We would take turns changing in the spare bedrooms and come out to model our new attire to the applause and cat calls of my mom and aunts. (The uncles never seemed to get into this.) We had to do a real catwalk too, otherwise we were "booed" out. My grandma would then insist that we eat again at 5 - which we did. And the rest of the evening was spent watching National Lampoon Christmas Vacation and replaying the part where the cat gets electrocuted. (hehehe).

I loved Christmas. What I miss most about large family gatherings is the crowdedness. I usually hate crowds. They make me cry. But squishing onto the same couch with ten other cousins, usually with Sophia or Charlie mercilessly throwing themselves on top, brought on the giggles and the wonderful feelings of knowing you are part of a loud, large, and loving family.

Tomorrow night my family is celebrating Christmas Eve together. This is the year we all spend the holiday with our spouses' families (except me and Jordan - ahem ahem - whose family has a few Ebeneezer's.) I will probably end up crying. I usually do when they all get together and I can't be there. It is hard to be far away from people you love.

Even though my days as a youngster are over, and I can't spend this Christmas with everyone I want to, it will still be good. The next best thing to being with the people you love during the holidays is having inestimable memories of them. Reminiscing about last year's snowball fight in a minor blizzard, and the snowman we made that looked like a sour patch kid, or my mom crying when she opened our gift. All of these wonderful memories will be here with me - even if I am far away.

I know that wherever they are
It can never be too far
If I hold them in my heart
It is like we never part

I am thankful to have so many memories to look back on when things begin to change and I find myself in a new place. It is a precious gift. I am so grateful for the wonderful foundation I have been given to start my own family traditions on. I can't wait to share the Christmas Eve picnic with my own daughter, to watch her play with the ducks, and to read Luke 2 with her. Nothing is more precious than family during the holidays. I know that my own little family will have a plethora of unforgettable Christmases because we come from a long line of crazy traditions and good recipes.

I love my family with all my heart. I will be missing most of them this year, but I will be remembering them, too - and I know that good memories are the greatest gift Christmas could ever give.

The Wonderful People Who "Get" Me

One of my very good friends moved away yesterday morning. We threw a going away party on Monday night for her and as soon as she left I started balling like a baby. Not only because there was half a bag's worth of potato chips ground into my carpet, but because I was really really going to miss her. She was the kind of friend who just randomly stopped by for no other reason than to hang out. I loved that. She was a party. My mom said that she was the only other person in the world who reminded her of me. We were rather similar - which provided the perfect opportunities for giggles and communication problems. It was like getting to hang out with yourself but only better, because she could sing really well and gobbled like a turkey.

I am so grateful for friends like that. Especially when I don't have family close by and much of my time is spent with Jo. Don't get me wrong, I feel so blessed to have the opportunity to spend almost every second with my daughter. Her personality thrills me and her new accomplishments give me the squeegles. But there are times when it is fun to have a more in depth conversation than "Jo, your poop is orange" and "BLAH ga baba." These are all very interesting, but they just don't bring the intellectual fulfillment an adult requires.

Jordan is going back to school next fall. Going back for his doctorate actually. Although, I am sure all of you already know that because it is pretty much his sisters, mom, and my mom that read this. Anyways, my primary source of happiness and good quality communication is going to be drowning in an avalanche of papers, projects, publishers, professors and pain. While I will still be at home with Jo all day writing this blog.

The only potential destination where I will still have a foundation of friendship is in Minnesota. Which looks less and less likely with every snowflake that falls there. It is most likely that I will be in a new strange city, with no family, no friends, very little income, and a red-headed research zombie that will have to pass for my husband. In short, I am doomed.

Especially because I am an extreme introvert. I prefer picking up a book and pretending like the imaginary characters are my friends rather than going out to make new ones. I hate meeting new people. I hate trying to think of relatively normal things to say in response to their comments and questions. I would just say what was on my mind, but I don't think people would appreciate obscure quotes and irony during the first encounter. This girl that just moved away made comments similar to the ones bouncing around in my own head - and that was when I knew it was meant to be.

Unfortunately, most people are not like her and myself. Most people are rational, can follow a single train of thought, and can handle normal conversation. You have no idea what it is like to frantically sift through everything you want to say and hope that something appropriate appears. The two people that I am completely uninhibited with are Jordan and my mom. This is such a relief!

It's like finally being able to go to the bathroom after holding it for too long. The other night at a party people were talking about the similarities between babies and dogs. I commented, "except one you should spade or neuter and the other you should not." Jordan laughed at my comment, no one else heard it, and it was a pleasant evening. I was able to share my thoughts without committing social suicide.

I am so grateful for a husband who enjoys my weird mind, friends who can follow my train, and a mother who has learned to tolerate it over the past 21 years. Life is grand when you have at least a few people who understand most of you, and then just accept the rest.

I think that Jordan and I are quite complimentary. He is a natural genius, I am naturally crazy. So together we make - a crazy genius!! MWAHAHAHAHAMWA (cough cough) And Jo is our insane invention. Quite a remarkable product. Too bad there is and always will be only one of her - and she is not for sale. Although some of the future Barlow products might be up for sale depending on their awesomeness. If we like them, we will keep them. But if they are lame; the bidding starts at $2.50. Just enough for an ice-cream cone!

Okay, we are putting up the Christmas tree now. YAY!!!

Thank you to everyone who has willingly been my friend - even if you didn't like me at first. I know I can take some warming up to.

Happy Holidays, and make sure you don't drink spiked eggnog. Causes bad dreams. And it tastes like goat urine - or what I imagine goat urine would taste like.

Meaning in the Menial

Life is mostly a composition of many menial tasks that, when performed with the right attitude, come together to form something quite meaningful.

Today was just a normal day at the Barlow house. We slept in until 9:30. (Jo was an angel and played in her crib forever.) Then we got up, watched Music and the Spoken Word, went to Church, had dinner with some friends, and then went to more Church. (We just love the jeremiads!) Probably the most exciting thing that happened today was when Jo belched really loud and made us giggle. (Or maybe I just find really weird things exciting.)

Even though this day was in no way eventful, it was still a very important day to me. Every day I get to spend with my husband, a man that no adjective has the power to describe, and my daughter, who is something somewhat alienic in her astonishing qualities, is a day that means the world to me.

Everything I did today was somewhat menial. I changed Jo's diapers, I sliced an apple for Jordan, I went to a friend's stake conference to hear her sing, and I gave hugs and kisses. I am sure that none of these tasks changed anyone's life. Plenty of people could happily survive without my daily interference, and 99.9% of the acts I perform during my lifetime are, and will be, insignificant.

Maybe it is just because I am desperate and unwilling to admit that I am an unnecessary addition to a world with so many more powerful shakers in it, but I have to believe that every brownie I bake, every phone call I make, every hug I give, and every tear I sympathize with will add up to make me valuable.

I think that many times we believe in our own unimportance because our contributions often go unrecognized. Jordan doesn't realize it when I wash the mirrors and reorganize the silverware drawer, and Jo doesn't realize how hard it is for me to wake up at 4 a.m. and feed her. But I know that Jordan is grateful to have a clean, orderly house to come home to, and that Jo knows she is always provided for - no matter the time.

Similarly, it is Jordan's countless, and often "unthanked" moments of self-sacrifice that make my life so enjoyable to live. Jordan is currently sending in applications for doctorate programs. This is an intense process with tons of forms, records, and essays. He is incredibly busy and somewhat stressed with the heavy work load, but he never lets his own ambitions interrupt his daily duty to me and Jo.

I was supposed to host Mother's Group this Thursday, so Wednesday night I started working on some cookies. I messed up the recipe and ended up with way too much liquid. Then our hand mixer broke. I was discouraged and began my whole song and dance about how I do everything wrong. Jordan was a true friend though. He had so much work to do, so much. I told him I didn't want his help, but he absolutely insisted. He sat there and mixed four cups of flour into three batches of sugar cookies with a table fork, helped me roll out the dough, bake the cookies, and then helped clean up the huge mess. I was so touched to know that Jordan thought my sugar cookie activity was just as important as his Ph.D. applications. Which it most certainly was not. I ended up in tears late Wednesday night as I watched my husband stay up late to finish his applications because he had spent the rest of his evening making cookie dough. I know Jordan loves me.

I am sure Jordan could have very reasonably explained that he simply did not have the time to help me bake for my friends. This would have only been true. Instead, he gave me a hug, grabbed a fork and started mixing. This "menial" task had enormous meaning for me. It meant my husband would always put me before himself. And to a young wife that is struggling with the juggling of school, work, and a new baby this is a wonderful thing to know.

So when I get discouraged by how simple my actions are, how unnecessary they seem, and how "unthanked" they may be, I just remind myself that they make a sum greater than their individual values put together. Every sock I find is another time I tell Jo I love her, and that her cold feet are a big deal to me. Every time I clean Jordan's glasses is another time I show him that a speck on his lenses is loathsome.
And the same goes for every simple, easy, and apparently insignificant thing you do. They all add up to mean something to somebody, even if you don't realize it. You create insurmountable amounts of meaning with your menial tasks. (Read that last sentence out loud!)

Thank you to you all, for the millions of menial tasks you have performed have that meant so much to me. You have done more than you know, and I am so grateful to have you in my life.

Don't become downtrodden, remember that all you do is important. Remember that there is meaning in the menial.

SPEAK!!!

Jo has been babbling a lot lately, well, not so much babbling as yelling vowels at the top of her lungs, spitting everywhere, and then wiggling across the floor in delight. She finds her new power of speech very exciting and won’t stop screaming her satisfaction. I see this as absolutely fascinating. To discover the glorious act of speaking out for the first time must be quite a revealing and enjoyable adventure. She doesn’t do anything without sharing her opinion about it now, and granted I have no idea what she is saying, it is enough to me to know that she is just trying to say something. I am so excited that she wants to share her thoughts with me. I always stop to watch her squeal and shriek in delight and can’t help but screech along. Her enthusiasm for sharing personal thoughts is so inspiring.

I wish I had this kind of glee still. I know I am very fervent when it comes to sharing my thoughts, but I prefer hiding behind a computer screen and typing them out as opposed to yelling them with full lung capacity employed.

Even my silent method of sharing is more than what most people work up to though. This is an absolute shame. Ralph Waldo Emerson said that every single person should write a book in his famous and oh-so-invigorating essay Self Reliance. I couldn’t agree more. So many people are forgotten or underappreciated because they don’t allow anyone to get inside their head. I told my mom that she should write a blog and she said “I have nothing to say.”

Atrocious! Everyone must have at least something to say. The only people who have nothing to say are people that are dead, and that is only because it would be creepy. I believe that every person who has breathed has something to say. The problem with the world today is that everyone is an intellectual introvert. They sit in their own little minds sorting through experience and then keep their epiphanies to themselves.

If there is one person I could get to talk more it would be my father. I ask him a personal question and he usually replies with a one word answer. And most likely it will be “yes” or “no.” Now, if I ask him about government scandal, the stock market, guitars, or tube amplifiers he spews information like the Enterprise fire hydrant on Pioneer Day. Don’t get me wrong, I love bashing crooked officials, being confused by the DOW, and learning how a bunch of wires correctly stuck together makes sound, but if there is one thing I would want to learn it is the story of how my parents fell in love; what my dad’s first thoughts were when he met, Mary VanDusartz, the girl next door. I assume it must be incredibly romantic to marry your child hood sweetheart. They even have plenty of parental opposition and forbidden romance to make the story an absolute sensation. But does anyone ever tell me this? No.

I am afraid that this is the case in most families. I began asking Jordan’s mom about when she met her husband, how he proposed, and why they had so many kids all at once. (Sorry to burst anyone’s bubble, but they weren’t all planned.) It was very interesting, a romance to be recorded. I then shared my new information with Jordan and he seemed completely shocked that his mother had a life before changing his diapers. I asked him, “How come you never asked her this? Weren’t you curious?” He shrugged his shoulders and said, “I just never thought of it.”

President Ucthdorf’s latest conference talk was on slowing down to take notice of the things that matter most. What could matter more than learning to really appreciate and see others for the incredible beings they are? I think the best way to do this is to have nothing more than a simple conversation. Turn off the TV, the radio, and get off facebook (guilty pang). Take time to listen to, (and hopefully record) the people you love most. And don’t just sit there trying to think of something to say about yourself. Really listen, be curious, even a human sloth’s life must have at least one educational story. There is so much to be discovered when it comes to family, friends, neighbors, or the homeless man sitting outside the library.

Share a little love this holiday season, make others feel valued and learn some amazing things yourself. Sit down and listen, whole-heartedly, to a person who has more to share than you both ever realized. And if the person is like my emotional hermit father, you might have to grab a wrench and begin pulling teeth to get down to the good stuff, but don’t give up, persevere and you will prosper. Dive right in with a question like “How do you feel about death?” Okay, maybe not that question because that is a little disturbing, but something better than, “What did you do today?”

The other side of this is that everyone needs to be a little more open. Don’t be so closed off, express yourself, use the wonderful gift of words to really communicate your mind. Don’t give one word answers, which is just lame. A conversation with one word answers is like hot cocoa without the whipped cream and marshmallows, it’s skimping on the good stuff that makes it all oh-so-delectable. Pile on the fluff baby, give some gory detail. Everyone will love you for it.

Make it a goal to have a super intense and revealing conversation with someone. Ooh, they are so fascinating it just makes my intestines want to tap dance.

Two pep phrases to remember – “Listen with Love” and “Speak your mind! (Even if your voice shakes).”

Be like Baby Jo and discover the wonderful wonders of communication. Just make sure you use real words.

Favorite Christmas Tradition

Jordan and I have a family tradition that helps me remember what Christmas, and be a disciple of Christ during the holiday season is all about. I can't imagine Christmas without it anymore, to me it always provides for the most memorable moments and helps me remember why I married this amazing man.

Our first year of marriage Jordan and I were ghetto poor. I mean Elvis could have written his song about us. We were going to the food bank for food, freezing our tooshes every night, and every time I spent money it felt like shoving pins underneath my fingernails. I started crying at the cash register one day when I had to put half our groceries back because we couldn't afford them. I like to laugh about that now, bananas really aren't necessary for survival - unless you are the missing link, which I am not.

Our first Christmas together we had a very small budget for presents, I was more than happy with it though because it meant I could finally get a new sweater. To my most wonderful surprise, we also received a very large sum of money from Jordan's mom to spend on whatever we wanted. It was way more than enough for us to purchase all we could want at that time, and we were so excited to have a Christmas filled with fancy presents, a nice dinner with expensive ingredients, and our soon to be purchased White Christmas.

A few days later we went to the temple. (Can you see where this is going?) As we were waiting in the chapel, because Provo Temple is always super busy, I was reading in the Doctrine and Covenants. I came across a section that talked about the early Saints and their many incredible sacrifices for the gospel. I began thinking about how much they wanted a temple, how they ground up their fine china to make the walls of the temple sparkle a little more, how they did ordinances nonstop, I was deeply moved by their devotion and began to wonder if I would have done the same thing. I then read a verse that said the early saints were faithful in all things, "and gave out of their poverty."

It was like a door bell went off in my head. I knew who was knocking on that mental door and let me tell you, I was reluctant to answer. I opened it just a crack, and that was all it took to receive a very unwelcome guest. A thought came into my head, "Gee Kayleen, you're poor, not nearly as poor as the pioneers, surely you can give something to build God's Kingdom if they could."

I was trapped. What could I do? I had just received a very positive and Christlike thought while sitting in the temple - game over evil demon on my left shoulder. I turned to Jordan and told him "I think we should take the money your mom gave us and give it to temple projects for Christmas." He was certainly startled by this unexpected suggestion; he knows how much I love sweaters. He gave me a look that was more loving than any incredibly cute article of wool could ever induce and I thought, wow, he has no idea I just told him that so I couldn't back out of it later.

We gave our money to the Church and dedicated it to the Guatemala temple that was under construction. I sometimes second guessed giving up ALL the money, surely we could save at least a portion of it for ourselves. But I kept on remembering this episode of Sabrina the Teenage Witch where Sabrina keeps part of the money she raises for a charity and then hates what she bought with it. (God works in mysterious ways my friends.) I also didn't want to bring this up with Jordan after he totally oggled me with googly eyes in the temple.

The next Christmas we were much better off than our first year together. It was a little easier to fork over some cash for a good cause. That year we wanted to be a little more creative than handing over a check though. So we found an adorable little Christmas box, stuffed it with tissue paper, and included a note about the Savior's love and some money. We left this box on the front stoop of a woman we had heard about through some friends who was very poor. She was a single mom of two teenage girls living in a small apartment. We went late at night, spent forever searching for the right apartment number, and then I got a running head start while Jordan rang the door bell and jumped out of sight. It was hilarious, we couldn't find each other because we were both hiding, and Jordan was terrified I would slip and fall on the icy sidewalk because I was pregnant. He was so heroic about it all. My heart still melts.

We watched as the woman opened the door looked around, and picked up her small package. I think it was an amazing blessing that the lights were on and her curtains open as she gathered her two daughters around her and opened the small Santa tin. No image will ever seem more Christmasy to me than the picture I have in my mind of the three of them standing together and reading our note about the Savior. It is the best Christmas memory I have and I am so glad I got to share it with Jordan.

This year Jordan has a great job so we are really excited to continue with our tradition. I am so glad we did it our first year together, so I never have an excuse of not having enough money, because I doubt we will ever be as poor as that again (gee, I hope not.) So it just gets easier and more fun every year. We recently heard about a couple our friends know that need some help right now. They have two daughters, and 6 month old son who is suffering from Leukemia. The father is currently unemployed and they have very little money to pay for medical bills. In addition, their vehicle is dying, it doesn't start sometimes, and has no heat. I can't imagine putting my sick baby in a freezing cold car to take him to chemotherapy treatments. I think the worst feeling in the world is not being able to give your child everything it needs, even if you are doing all you can.

We have decided to leave a plate of sugar cookies that spell out "Jesus Remembers You" and some money on their doorstep this year. I am so excited to bake and decorate the cookies. We even received a contribution from Jordan's grandpa for them! I couldn't be more grateful for my family's good health, that Jo is so happy and healthy and Jordan and I can enjoy her without worrying for her. I want to show my gratitude for this incredible blessing by trying to help others who are going through a tremendous trial.

Now the point of this incredibly long post: You should try it too. It really is the best Christmas tradition, even more fun than eating truffles and watching It's a Wonderful Life (that is hard to beat.) This year take a little bit of your Christmas funds and give it to someone who really needs it. And I don't mean buy your kid a new highchair they need. Find someone who is in a pickle and sweeten their experience.

Try it out! Even better, grab some friends and family and ask them to join you. It will be your favorite Christmas tradition in no time, and it will help you remember what Christmas should really be about.

Time for Some Pluck

I have been toying with the idea of writing a young adult novel for quite some time. The thought first came to me two years ago when I read Ella Enchanted, a very popular tween book, and thought to myself. "I could have done that."

In all honesty, I hope I can write a book better than that one, because I didn't think it was all that amazing. The ending seemed awkward and pushed and the character development a little two dimensional. But alas, I have not written anything as good as Ella Enchanted, because I have not written anything. I keep on chickening out. (New maxim.) I think that I am so afraid of failure I can't even begin to try. But thanks to all you wonderful friends and family that have been so sweet as to read by blog, this is about to change.

I began keeping a list of people who said they believe I can write a book. As the list grew longer, my confidence grew stronger. Now I feel like if I don't write a book I will diasappoint. I want to write something that people will enjoy. I think that when you write a book someone absolutely loves, you in one way become a good friend of theirs. I love reading the ideas of other authors, and learning new things from their stories. I have no intention of writing a best seller, or something that will rock your world. This requires a degree of talent I fear I do not posess. But I do want to write something longer than a blog post, and there is no better time to start than right now.  I don't want to just lazy out of it. It is a goal of mine, I just needed a little push to get me going.

So here I go. I have decided to write one chapter every month (starting slow) until I am finished. It will probably take me a couple years, which is the main problem. I am afraid that I will start off strong but then get tired of having nothing to share with others. This would then result in book abandonment and a sense of failure at not being able to finish.

To combat this likely monstrosity, I have decided to share my book with all of you as I am writing it. This way. When the book is done, you can all be my first set of editors and let me know what you thought. You can tell me if my characters were believable, if they were relatable, and if they were the kind of friend you were hoping for. You can tell me if it was boring, slow, too fast, or too cheesey. I must admit, I am inclined to cheese. (And it isn't the good cheese, I am talking the cheese you spray out of a can and can only manage to swallow on special occasions.) (I love using the same word for two different meanings in the same sentence.)

I will post my chapters every month on the Leeny's Literature blog. You can find a link to it on the right hand side of the screen. And I am determined to keep up with the normal blogging in the mean time, although my posts might be a little more infrequent since this is another huge project I am proposing. I will tell you when I have a new chapter posted so you don't have to check that blog all the time too.

AHHH! I am terrified. This is so scary. I don't know why I find it so scary. I think it is because this is something I have always wanted to do, and now that I am doing it, I really don't want to screw it up. It's like getting married. You think "I really want to marry this man. I can't wait." But then you say, "I hope I don't mess this up and that he still likes me after a year."

Dangit. Baby Jo is crying. Which means I have to go for now. But I will be back. Hopefully with a chapter that can give you a nudge if not sweep you off your feet. I am not a writing witch, no brooms here.

Wish me luck!

Your aspiring and scared author - Kayleen Barlow.
P.S. - Anyone got a cool pen name for me?

Not Room Enough to Recieve It

I am sitting in a living room that almost brings me to tears. I have food for the food bank in one pile, surplus pots and bowls for DI in another, two ginormous siutcases that still need to be unpacked, a pile of books, a giant high-chair box, a stroller, and baby toys everywhere. I am overwhelmed with everything I have to do. I just spent an hour rearranging the entire kitchen and cleaning out cupboards so I could fit Jo's new highchair in there. (Thanks Marmsy! Jo loves it!) And I need to go through Jo's closet and all her drawers tomorrow so I can find somewhere to put all her new adorable clothes. It is times like this when I think of that verse about how Heavenly Father will "open the windows of heaven, and pour out a blessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it" and know that he has an ironic sense of humor.

I am so incredibly blessed I cannot manage to keep it all under control. I wish I had a bigger apartment to house all of our wonderful things, and I wish I had a bigger heart so I didn't feel like I am going to shatter into a million pieces because I love my family so much. There is so much for me to be grateful for I feel overwhelmed and, disgustingly enough, at times burdened by it.

For example: I just spent the last week visiting family at my mom's house. I was so wrapped up in holiday happenings I forgot to check GoDealGo to see if I should be paid, I almost missed out on seeing a friend because I never checked facebook, and I neglected my email, therefore missing a notice from my Professor. Normally I take care of these tasks first thing when I get home, but I was so distracted by enjoying my time with the oddest conglomeration of individuals to pass for a family that I completely forgot about the basics. And what's more! Jo was spoiled beyond belief. There was hardly a moment where she had to sit down and amuse heself. She was constantly being coddled and hugged and petted that now she thinks that is how it should always be. She has gotten into the habit of screaming until somebody drops everything and gives her the attention she feels she deserves. If I look away for more than two minutes she lets me know that I am not doing as good a job as grandma. I'm at my wits end! How can I take care of that princess and still study, work, clean, cook, shop, and read every now and then?

My happy, hectic lifestyle at my mom's house has made my real life seem difficult. I feel like lounging around, eating dark chocolate, and watching my 5 year old niece lavish love on Jo, while my mom makes a delicious dinner. (P.S. I gained 6 pounds during our one week vacation - sick.) Instead, I am avoiding the angry glances of dirty laundry and dusty shelves. My return to the real world has been a regretful one, but honestly, what do I have to complain about? Cleaning out my daughter's dresser to fit new clothes? Holy cow! If that is all I have to complain about then I have got it made. And dusting shelves can even be fun - I like to sweep over the books and  ruminate on the many character crushes I have (Professor Baehr melts my heart.)

All in all, I am so blessed I am ready to burst at the seams. Being with my family was a special treat that I wouldn't trade for anything - even a bledtec. But my return to normal life is a pleasure too, I have such a pleasant life to live.

I am the happiest girl out there - even on sad days. I am so happy to have Jordan, Jo, and everything else in my little world. My life is the perfect combination of family, friends, music, books, and beautiful things. Talk about a dream salad!

I love you all! Thanks for shooting your rays of sunshine in my direction. Even if I am flaky and pale on the outside, I am one lush African on the inside. (Reverse oreo baby!)

Haha. It is late. I am off to bed with a heart like a helium balloon.

GOODNIGHT!!!