Monday, December 14, 2015

TLR's Christmas Gift Guide for the Women in Your Life

Fun! Our first Christmas Gift Guide. Includes the books and products from our show hosts and from a few of our friends. We’d love to have you check it out and please share it!
Merry Christmas!!

Thursday, December 10, 2015

Here's The Thing

On this week's podcast for The Living Room we shared our favorite tips for travel, our favorite books and our favorite products. You might just find the best gift to give yourself! wink emoticon Listen on iTunes or download the show here:

Friday, November 20, 2015

The Neatest-Scariest Experince

I just shared this on my Facebook page, but wanted to share it here as well.

I just had the neatest/scariest experience that confirmed to me once again that God is more than mindful of his children.
I was driving down a busy street and noticed a little boy (5 years old) running with all his might down the side walk. I immediately had the thought, "that boy is too small to be by himself.", but I kept driving.
Two blocks later I saw a lady running like mad down the same street. I immediately knew something was wrong. I pulled over and quickly asked her if he was her child. She responded that she was the ground duty and that the boy was a kindergartner that had escaped from school during recess. The lady was so worried. I immediately told her to get in my car. I then, took off as fast as I could in the opposite direction. We were sick when we saw that the boy was headed right toward a busy intersection with no signs of slowing down. I gunned it and made it into the intersection where I laid on my horn to warn the cars to stop, just as the boy got to the end of the sidewalk. The ground duty hopped out and began to run for the boy. That kid was crazy fast too.
I again took off and got a ways in front of the boy and cut his pathway off with my car and then got out and ran and grabbed him. He was sobbing and kept saying he was going to be in trouble. I kept trying to console him and told him that there was no way he was in trouble at all, that we were just worried about him. I knew he didn't know me and I didn't want him to freak out, so I led him to the sidewalk and had him sit down and told him he could call his mommy. I also praised him for saying he would not get into my car to go back to school. I told him he was so smart and exactly right, that he didn't know me and his mom and dad would be so proud of him for not getting into my car. He knew his phone number which was awesome and also informed me that he wouldn't have gone into the street because his mom had taught him 40 times how to cross a road. smile emoticon
The ground duty got there after that and kept telling him that they loved him and were worried about him and that he was not in trouble at all. She was so great and so loving.
The boy told us he was just trying to go home. Anyway. It broke my heart and scared me to death because my own kid has gotten away before and almost got hit by a car. It's everyone's worst fear.
The three of us sat with him and I had my little boy get out of the car to sit with him too, in hopes he wouldn't be as scared. They shared my little ones fries from his Happy Meal, which seemed to help a little (fries have that affect on me as well). The boys mom then came. It brought tears to my eyes to see the terror in her face and remember my own, when my boy ran away.
Anyway I didn't talk to her, I just got in my car and left after that, relieved that this was the outcome and not something tragic.
So that is the story, but here is the cool part.
I had been shopping for a side table that morning at Target because I had a gift card for there. I knew it was on sale, I had just seen it online that morning. When I got there, it wasn't on sale anymore. I even had a manager look it up online. Two of them did and it showed that it was not longer on sale. So I skipped it.
I then went to my mom's to pick up my kids and for whatever reason, I decided to stay for a little bit instead of going home even though I had a lot to do.
On the way home, I saw the sign for TJMaxx and randomly decided to stop by to see if they had an end table. I wasn't sure why, since I had my newborn with me as well as my 3 year old and I didn't have a gift card for TJMaxx. It really was pointless and would be effort with two kids. I went in, looked around and then left. On my way home, I again had a random thought. This time to drive by a house (just for fun) that I had seen for sale a few miles from my neighborhood. Wasn't sure why I would take the time since it was naptime and the baby needed to be fed soon, but again I did it for whatever reason.
It was on the way home from looking at that house that I saw the little boy at the exact moment he had run away on a route home that I didn't usually take.
There is no doubt in my mind that all of those series of "coincidences" placed me exactly where I needed to be, when I needed to be there. Literally 30 seconds either way and I would have missed that little boy.
Oh and when I got home, I looked online at Target and the end table was listed as
"on sale" once again.
Had it been listed on sale that morning, I would have bought it, picked up my kids and gone home.
Do I believe that God would go to that great of lengths to protect or maybe even save a child?
Absolutely, because I am a parent and I would go to those lengths to protect my children, so why not He?
God is great.
Side note:
I don't believe there's any significance that it was me at all. I also don't believe if I hadn't responded that God would have stopped trying to help that child. He would have prompted someone else. He simply keeps looking until someone responds and it doesn't much matter who that person is. Sometimes I respond and many times, I'm sure I don't. I'm grateful for all those that do respond consistently and bless my life with their examples.

Sunday, November 15, 2015

Latest article

I wrote this article a couple of years ago. It started out as a talk, when I was asked to speak in church. I hadn't planned on telling this story for my talk, but I had had a break down during that week. It was over my frustration that after six years, things were not that much different for us financially and we were still struggling. I didn't have a clue what I was going to speak about in church. I felt like I had nothing to offer my neighbors and friends. As my husband I discussed our financial situation yet again, I felt like I learned some valuable lessons from God, that he spoke peace to my soul and helped me see things a bit differently. It was then that I knew I needed to tell our story for my talk. So that's what I did. I cried through it all, but just said it how it was. I didn't worry what other's would think and I still didn't know that I had anything to offer. I simply told everyone what the spirit had taught me that week.

I will never forget after that, how many people came up to me and thanked me. One man in particular was so overcome with emotion he could hardly speak. I sat in awe watching them and wondering what in the world I had said that had touched their hearts in such a way. I realized very quickly that it wasn't anything I had said. The spirit had simply used me and my story to touch each of them, to let them each know that just as God was aware of me and my family he was aware of each of them. That he loved them.

It was literally one of the neatest things I have ever witnessed. I could truly feel his love for them as I felt love for them as well.

I learned another lesson that week. God will use any of us, if we are willing to tell our stories and the lessons that he taught us because of them.

I'll always be grateful not only for this experience, but for the experience and privilege of getting to tell my story to my friends and neighbors and then witness the love God has for each of them.
The love God has, for each of us.


..... (Shutterstock)
My article on Deseret

During the economic downturn in 2008, we were laid off from job after job. Instead of living paycheck to paycheck, we lived day to day never knowing if any money, a job or hope would come. With a mortgage and a growing family, the stress was immense. Many times, my husband and I would question when it would end and we could finally get back on our feet, but several years later things weren't much better, and that was hard.
On one particularly trying day for me, I had a meltdown — something that happened many times during those years. As a result, my husband and I discussed the scriptures, specifically the idea that before this life we all shouted for joy at the prospect of coming to earth. Suddenly, a thought hit me. In that state of pre-mortal innocence, how could we truly understand what mortal life would be like? What it would be like to lose a child, or not be able to have one; to lose a spouse or never marry at all, to suffer addiction, to have a terminal or mental illness, to have children stray, to suffer abuse, to not be able to provide and the many other trials we experience here? Perhaps we indeed shouted for joy, but not for the process — for the end result.
This thought reminded me of the night before I left to serve a mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Filled with excitement, childlike innocence and immense faith, I was thrilled to go. My brothers sat with me and spoke of their missions being wonderful experiences, but they also tried to warn me that serving a mission would be extremely difficult, perhaps the hardest thing I would ever experience. I nodded to assure them that I understood. Within two weeks of arriving in Italy, I realized I hadn't understood at all.
I had wonderful experiences while serving a mission, right along with those very difficult times, including extreme fatigue, lack of understanding, rejection, guilt, questioning why I’d come and incredible loneliness. It was the difficult times that seemed to take up most of my time.
I remember writing my dad at a very low point and asking, “Why didn’t you tell me this would be so hard?”
His response was loving, yet simple, “You wouldn’t have understood. You can’t have the mission experience without experiencing the mission.”
As I sat talking with my husband and thinking about my mission and my father's wise counsel, I reflected on our situation and the past several years. In that moment, I realized that each of us would have the opportunity to ask our Heavenly Father what I asked of my earthly father. I imagine the answer might be the same.
I realized that during our trial I had let myself believe that job loss wasn't simply a part of life, but was perhaps a consequence for lack of faith — that if we just had a little more, it would be over.
That's when I learned that faith does not always save us from hardships.
Faith may not cure a child’s cancer or heal a dying spouse. Faith may not bring back a straying child or cure a horrible addiction. It may not cause parents to have a child they so desperately want or someone to find a spouse in this life. Faith may not cure a handicap or depression, or all of the things we wish that it would.
I finally understood that our faith would probably not cause us to make more money or get us a house again. However, our faith would sustain us — each of us in our darkest times. We have been told that faith will make our burdens lighter, not take them away. Life is not fair. However, fairness does not produce understanding, humility, love, patience and faith; trials do. Life does.
Newspaper columnist Jenkin Lloyd Jones once said, "The fact is that most putts don't drop. Most beef is tough. Most children grow up to be just ordinary people. Most successful marriages require a high degree of mutual toleration. Most jobs are more often dull than otherwise. … Life is like an old-time rail journey — delays, sidetracks, smoke, dust, cinders and jolts, interspersed only occasionally by beautiful vistas and thrilling bursts of speed. The trick is to thank the Lord for letting you have the ride.”
As I reflected on what the spirit had just taught me, I thought about the wonderful parts of serving a mission. The part where I witnessed incredible faith, understanding, love, friendship, compassion and even miracles — rare moments of knocking on someone’s door and hearing, “I’ve been waiting for you.”
Tears sprang to my eyes with this new understanding and with it a priceless realization. Had I known how incredible a mission would have been — what it would do for me personally, what it would do for my testimony and how it would shape the rest of my life for the better — I would never have missed it. Perhaps I would one day feel the same about this trial, too.
Life is good, but maybe 80 percent of it is about enduring to the end and trying to be happy despite some extremely hard circumstances. Faith is optimism. Faith believes that eventually, maybe only after this life, everything will be OK. There is no cure-all in this life. That comes later. That's when addictions that have been fought are conquered, marriages that endured are blessed, children come back, we finally get our mansions, broken hearts are mended and families are together forever.

Tuesday, October 27, 2015

Today's podcast :Limitless

Catch today's podcast
or on Itunes
 Have you ever said to yourself, "I could never in a million years do that" as you've watched someone else, do something, that you believe for you, is impossible? So have we. Today, we're talking about those rare times in our lives, where for a little while, we have become Limitless. We'll discuss running a marathon as a non-runner, as well as doing a 100 mile bike race as a non-cyclist. But the challenges aren't just physical. We’ll share impossible deadlines that were met, entire books illustrated in just two weeks, singing on stage with stage fright, and more. We'll also divulge what we think we could never do and why. We believe that we are all literally God's children and that there are no minor players in His family. So if there is greatness in each of us, and we are capable of far more than what we think, then let's find out how we become Limitless and the lessons we learn along the way.

Thursday, October 15, 2015

A Lesson in Forgiveness - I wanted People to Hate Her.

I'm always a little ashamed when I think of this story, but I am grateful for that feeling. Not so that I dwell on what I did wrong or beat myself up, but so that I am reminded that I never want to be like that again. I am grateful for the lessons I learned from this experience and for two great girls that helped me remember who I really was.

A lesson in forgiveness: I wanted people to hate her

BOUNTIFUL — I had the opportunity to serve a mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Catania, Italy. When you serve a mission for the LDS Church, you are assigned into a pair or a companionship. Some companions fit you perfectly, while many others do not.
Twenty-four hours a day with someone for anywhere from 3-6 months and sometimes longer can get very trying. I was given one particular companion who was very different than me. After a few short weeks, I found myself wishing one of us would get transferred to another area. It gets lonely on the mission. Having the only other person you can talk to be someone you don't really get along with compounds that feeling immensely. As a 21-year-old girl, I felt it acutely. I later realized she did as well.
My companion would often make calls at night to one of her previous companions. They would talk in Italian, and since I didn't yet know the language well enough to understand, I didn't know I was often the topic of conversation, more specifically how difficult I was to live with. I was finally transferred after three months. My new companion happened to be the companion of the girl who my old companion called nightly to complain to. It became evident, very quickly, that my new companion had already formed a not-so-great opinion of me.

After three days of me trying to befriend her, she broke down one night. "OK, you are way different that I imagined you were," she said. "I was terrified after all I'd heard about you to get you as a companion. I'm so sorry."
I was shocked but grateful she had told me. She and I ended up becoming great friends. However, during the midst of that time, something else began to happen to me: Anger began to take hold. How dare that girl say all of those things about me that were untrue. How dare she spread rumors about me. My name would now be tainted with each new companion before I even had a chance to show them who I was. This anger continued to build in me. I found myself thinking about it constantly and then talking about it constantly. It finally got to the point where one night I turned to my new companion, who by now was very aware of my feelings: "I should warn all the other girls about her," I said hatefully. I will never forget the powerful lesson I learned in that moment by a dear and wise friend.
Her brow furrowed in sadness as she looked at me. "Oh, Kate. You don't want people to hate her do you?"
Instantly, I was filled with shame. I could see in that moment who I was becoming. How ironic it was that I was there to teach lessons of love and forgiveness. Even more alarming, I realized the answer to her question was, "Yes." I wanted to win. I wanted to be more liked. I wanted people to hate her and like me. Perhaps one of the most sobering moments in my life was finding out I wasn't as humble, Christian, kind and forgiving as I thought I was.
From that moment on I decided to change. I made an effort to point out the good in that companion to all my future companions. It wasn't hard either because once I stopped feeling anger I could clearly see all the good she had done for me as well as others while we were together.
I wrote her a note and apologized for my behavior during our time together. I could now see things from her side and realize she wasn't the only one that was hard to live with.
This particular companion became someone for me who I truly admired. She taught with such conviction and love. Regardless if we got along perfectly or not, I never denied that. Many times I have been reminded that the mission experience was so much more for me to learn than it was for me to teach. I will forever be grateful for that and for two dear friends, one who taught me to forgive and another who forgave me.

Tuesday, October 13, 2015

Joy Cometh After the Sorrow

 It was so neat today to be able to hear my friends and co-hosts of the living room talk about their experiences of feeling joy after great sorrow. Two of them shared their stories of giving birth to still born babies. I also shared a story of my friend whose five-year-old son drowned this summer. She said something so profound to me.

She said, "I couldn't believe how many people came up to me after my son died and told me similar stories. I had no idea so many people had and were suffering like me, but it did something for me. These were people that I knew as 'happy' people. It taught me that if they could still find joy after such a tremendous loss than maybe so could I."
In the middle of a crisis, loss, or hardship, it’s so difficult to remember what joy feels like (or even what “okay” feels like). In today's show, we share some stories of loss and hardships with the advantage of retrospect, to remind us all that there is light at the end of the tunnel, and a rainbow waiting to brighten even the stormiest of days—that sorrow really can turn to joy.
Join us in the living room today for our Joy Cometh After the Sorrow show.
Feel free to comment or leave us your feedback. We'd love to hear it and join us for the conversation on Facebook.

Tuesday, September 29, 2015

Latest Podcast: Raising Children that Contribute

In a society that enables and even encourages entitlement, how does this affect our children? How does it influence their perception of work ethic, self-motivation, and genuine give-back contribution? Join us today in discussing what principles and practices have worked in our life experience, and how we can positively apply or adjust in raising our children.

Click on the graphic above or download on Itunes.

Tuesday, September 22, 2015

Our latest show. Catch it now on Itunes.

Choose to be Amused 
In today's show we talk about those life moments that could have derailed us but instead, we chose to laugh. Today we share our personal experiences about how approaching tough situations with humor, and the choice to see it that way, can make all the difference in our own lives and those we love.
Catch it on Itunes:

Friday, September 4, 2015

My Latest KSL Article-Why Did I make an Apple Pie?

BOUNTIFUL — Recently, we bought an older home. It was owned by the same owners for almost 50 years. The couple who had raised their family there had recently passed on within months of each other. Their daughter was selling their home and we could see that it was very difficult for her. Trying to make it somewhat easier on her, I told her to please come back anytime she or her siblings wanted to see the home.
The house has an apple and a plum tree in the backyard and my family was delighted to eat the delicious fruit. After being in the home close to a year, I noticed that there were just a few apples left on the apple tree. I picked all the remaining apples and brought them inside.
The plums had multiplied and we had more than we knew what to do with. My husband came up with the idea of turning them into juice and syrup.
Staring at the apples on the counter, I wondered what to do with all of them when I suddenly had the idea to make a pie. I'm not a big pie maker and frankly I don't love apple pie, but the thought wouldn't leave me.
I had other things to do that day and I left the apples on the counter. The next day the thought came again and again on the third day. Finally, I gave in. I pulled a recipe from the Internet for the crust and then tried to figure out how in the world to make a filling. Opening the fridge to get some butter, I noticed the plum syrup and decided since I didn't know what I was doing anyway, I'd experiment.


I put the apples and plum syrup in a big bowl and stirred them together before dumping them into the crust I had just made.
Covering the top of the pie with dough, I noticed I had a bit left over. I shaped the leftover dough into an apple-shaped heart and placed it carefully on top of the dough right in the center. I rolled my eyes and laughed at what I had done, wondering once again why I had made a pie that none of us would eat. Grabbing a Ziploc freezer bag, I put the entire pie inside the bag, sealed it up and placed it in the freezer.
A couple of days later my phone rang. It was the daughter who had sold us the home.
"Kate, would you mind if my daughter, my sister and I came by to see the house?"
I told her that of course we didn't.
She informed me that they would be stopping by the graveyard first to visit their mother's grave.

"I think your mom wanted me to make it for you. She must have known you'd come on her birthday and you'd need it." 
A few hours later they came. I noticed that as they walked through the house they grew up in, they became increasingly weepy. I excused myself to give them some time alone.
A little while later I returned when they were about to leave.
"I'm so sorry," the daughter told me. "It's actually Mom's birthday today and we didn't realize how hard this would be."
I smiled sympathetically and nodded. As they made their way to the door, I suddenly realized something.
Running to the freezer, I grabbed the homemade pie, remembering how the daughter had told me their mother had loved to cook and spent countless hours in that kitchen.
"Here," I said as I handed the pie to the daughter. "This is an apple pie made with apples from the apple tree and plum syrup from the other. I had no idea why in the world I kept feeling like I should make it, but now I understand."
I smiled at the three women.
"I think your mom wanted me to make it for you. She must have known you'd come on her birthday and you'd need it."
As I shut the door I smiled, grateful that I had listened to a thought that told me to make a pie that was never intended for me.

Thursday, August 6, 2015

An Oldest Child

The other day I bought an emergency preparedness 72 hour backpack. My 6-year-old daughter asked what it was for. Not wanting to scare her, I told her it was for small emergencies, like if she scraped her knee or if we needed to go somewhere quickly.
At that point my 8-year-old son jumped in, “Or, if there is a huge earthquake and our house topples down or a fire and it burns down.”
I told my son to stop talking as my daughter ran over to the couch, fingers plugging her ears and her face buried in the cushions.
“Nice. Cam.” I told him. “You scared her to death.”
“Well it’s true, Mom.” Cameron told me.

Read the rest of the article

Wednesday, August 5, 2015

Once I was a Beehive Movie Event

Hi everyone! We get the privilege of guest hosting the "Once I Aas A Beehive movie event." Get your tickets, bring your kids and come join me. Thursday night in Sandy at Jordan Commons and Friday night in Orem Cinemark University Mall 7pm. My friend and co- Living Room host said it was darling. She said she was surprised how it touched her heart and made her laugh. Love to see you there! The director for this movie was in the "Saratov Approach" (one of the Elders) and he has done a wonderful job! Love to support an uplifting movie!

Tuesday, August 4, 2015

Post-it Notes from God

This is my favorite show that we recorded so far. I love hearing peoples stories of the hand of God in their lives, especially during times when they thought perhaps he wasn't listening. We have all had moments like this - difficult times when Heavenly Father leaves us a "post-it note."
I would love to hear your experiences and feedback on today's show.
Don't miss "Post-It Notes from God" on our site now.
or download it for free on Itunes:

Tuesday, July 28, 2015

Talents and Water

I have the opportunity to teach a class on the New Testament. This week as I read about the parable of the talents (Matthew 25:14-30), something struck me that I would love to share.

 I think sometimes I feel embarrassed when someone compliments me or says, "you have a gift" in regards to something I have said or done. Consequently, I may try to hide my gift the next time or not share it, because I don't want the attention. A thought came to me in that regard. Not sharing my gift is like going on a hike... with a friend and my friend is dying of heat exhaustion. I have the water she needs, but instead of giving it to her, I pour it on the ground or bury it and then say, "Oh, sorry. I was afraid that you would think I was awesome for sharing my water so I poured it out instead."

That sounds so silly, but I have done that. If I am the person who needs that water and has been praying for it, I may well think someone is awesome for sharing it with me, but more likely I will thank God for providing that person with the water that I needed when I needed it. I believe we have these gifts simply because God gave them to us. They are a gift. I am not sure that personalities or earning them or awesomeness even came into play when we got them. Obviously, I don't know, but the point is, it's a gift given to us, not necessarily for us, but to help our brothers and sisters. No wonder it is offensive to God like the scriptures say if we don't use it or we "bury it". It wasn't for us, it was for others.

Everyone of us has at least one gift and I'm willing to wager probably more than that. I'm grateful to all of you who have shared your gifts with me and have blessed my life as a result.
Share your gift with someone this week it may just be the "water," they have been praying for.


Listen to our new show today on Gratitude

Tuesday, July 21, 2015

My latest article-first seen on


 — I recently heard Elder Jeffery R. Holland relate a story about two brothers who went rock climbing without ropes. One was 19 and the other was 14. The 19-year-old was stuck high up on a dangerous mountain below a ledge, with the 14-year-old on top of it, having been hoisted up by his older brother.
The 19-year-old stood gripping the mountain in a perilous situation with no way to lift himself. Unable to hold on much longer, he decided his only option was to attempt to jump, grab the overhang and somehow pull himself up. Knowing this option would likely fail, he told his younger brother to go look for a large, strong stick to help pull him up. He knew there was no such stick and that it would never work. He simply didn’t want his little brother to watch him plummet to his death if and when the jump failed.
Once the 19-year-old was sure his brother had gone, he took a deep breath and jumped. His arms hit the overhang and he immediately grappled at loose rock. He knew instantly that he was about to die. As his arms began to slip, two other arms grabbed him from above. This younger brother, knowing that his older brother would attempt to jump once he had gone, had ignored his counsel to get the stick, stayed silent so his brother would think he had left and then snatched the struggling arms, refusing to let go, finding strength beyond his own to somehow pull his older brother to safety.
As I heard this story, immediately a memory came to mind.
I was 18. My friend’s mom, Paula, called me to see if I wanted to go visit a mutual friend of her son and me who was in the hospital battling cancer.

"S​ome of our trials match and some do not, but maybe together we have a nearly complete understanding of how to help each other."

Once we got there, we found Jon in bad shape. Suddenly, overcome with a bout of nausea, Jon pitched forward. Instinctively I began to back out of the room not wanting him to be embarrassed that I was there and truthfully not wanting to be there in that moment either.
From the doorway I witnessed an incredible lesson.
While I backed away, Paula moved forward.
Paula quickly grabbed a pink plastic bucket and held it under Jon’s chin. With her other hand ​on his back, ​she​ began to stroke his hair. I marveled as she stuck her face close to his ear, unfazed by ​the circumstances. She began to speak to Jon in hushed tones as he vomited over and over. “Jon, you are going to make it out of here. Jon, you are strong. Jon, you will beat this.”
While I had gone to “get the stick,” Paula had stayed and lifted her brother. After hearing the story of the two brothers, I thought of all the times I have waited for people that I know need help to come ask me.​ Or times I let myself believe that someone else would help. Worse, asking if something was needed of someone and then walking away after they told me they were OK, fully knowing they were not — possibly relieved that I didn’t need to do more.
There was something else for Paula, something that I lacked. Certainly it wasn’t a bad thing that I had done that day. In fact, it was a good thing to go and visit Jon. I simply didn’t understand like Paula did.
Paula’s husband had passed away from cancer years previously. Paula stayed because she knew better than me what it is like to take care of someone who is dying from cancer.
There are many of us like Paula, and all of us have known some type of hardship in this life.
S​ome of our trials match and some do not, but maybe together we have a nearly complete understanding of how to help each other.
As I heard the story of the two brothers and then remembered that precious lesson that Paula taught me, I vowed that the next time someone told me to “get a stick,” I would not listen. Instead I would stay. I would find a way to grab my brother, my sister, my friend, my neighbor and pull them off the ledge. 

Tuesday, June 30, 2015

Today my radio show is airing live at noon. The show title is "What I gained when I lost". I tell my story of giving up an opportunity as a writer - that would have resulted in being published on the NY Times best sellers list - for something more. Check it out, by clicking on the link below and listening to the show at noon today. Thanks!

Or, if you can't make it at noon today, then download it for free on ITunes. Link on our site.

Then please feel free to join the conversation on FB. I'd love to know things that you have given up, but ended up gaining more.


Friday, June 19, 2015

The Living Room Show on itunes.

Friends, I’d love your help.  Some friends and I just launched a radio show.  I’d love your feedback.  It’s easy to listen on iTunes using this link:  and it's free. When you’re done, I’d be honored if you’d leave your honest feedback here or through iTunes.  We’re excited to help this expand and grow and we’d love to know what you think!


Tuesday, June 16, 2015

The Living Room is Live

We are live launching our Living Room show!!!
Click on the link below to watch us…/even…/ccia4bs9n71cuj89u6agamlavas…
Normally we will just be on the radio-which is why our quality isn't awesome on the google chat, but we wanted people to get the chance to get to know us and watch us.
Go to to download and listen to three of our shows it's free!
Then please like us on Facebook and please join the community. We would love to learn from your wisdom!

Monday, June 15, 2015

Announcing!!!! The Living Room - A radio show.

Hello everyone. I am back. I am so excited to announce a project that I have been working on for the past year with six other awesome women.
We got together originally to start a writers group. It didn't take long before we decided that there was enough junk in the world and that we could all use a little more joy.
That was when we started talking about uplifting experiences we'd had, raising our kids, values, our marriages, life, etc. We discussed hard times we'd each gone through and how we'd gotten through them as well as the good times and blessings that we are grateful for.
Someone suggested that it would be awesome if there was a place where women (and men too) could discuss these same things together and learn from each other.
And that was how "The Living Room" got started.
I am excited to announce our radio show that will be launching June 16th at 10am.
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Tuesday, May 12, 2015

Baby #4

I haven't written in a little while, because I am pregnant with baby #4. We are thrilled, but I am sick. Sick tends to stifle my creativity so as soon as I am feeling better I will be writing more.

I am excited to post some new pictures of the house soon. This year we are going to be working on the outside. I can't wait to paint the brick white!!! Hopefully that will be sooner rather than later.

Saturday, February 21, 2015

Peace Officer

Hi! A good friend of my husband and I, has produced a movie that is very timely. A few years ago his brother in law was shot and killed by police officers in much the same manner as we are seeing on the news lately. Our friend has an interesting perspective as his father founded the very SWAT team that killed his son-in-law.

This is not a one sided documentary made with the intent to bash cops. It tells our friends story from the view of a police officer, who saw many mistakes made and wants to implement changes.

This film is on kickstarter right now and we would love for it to get distributed. Please take a minute and click on the link to watch the trailer. Please pass it on to other's you may know that may be interested.

PEACE OFFICER -- A feature documentary film's video poster
Peace Officer

Saturday, February 14, 2015

Happy Valentines! My KSL Article

This is an article I wrote about my brother and I. "My Unlikely Valentine."

Suzanne Tucker/

SALT LAKE CITY — I am four years younger than my brother Jeff. Growing up he was often annoyed with me, which probably had something to do with the fact that I was annoying.
I wanted his attention and I’m sure that I did all in my power to get it. By the time he was in high school and I was in junior high, our relationship still wasn’t great. We have a sister in between the two of us and the two of them always got along fairly well. In fact, I often wished that was how it was with us.
I remember sneaking into Jeff’s room one day when he was at a friend’s house. Jeff had worked the summer in Lake Powell. He had a shelf with a wooden river rafting paddle displayed on top. It was signed by all of his buddies. I noticed it also had my name on it as well. Curious, I picked it up and noticed the words “The Katie beater” written on it in big black marker. Of course he never had, nor would he have, hit me with the paddle, but I got the message.
We were young and our relationship or lack thereof was and probably is very similar to the average family. Still, there were many times that I wished it was better. I longed for the days Mom often spoke of.
“One day you guys are all going to be good friends and none of these ridiculous fights will matter anymore.”
When I was 16 and my sister Amy was 18, Jeff was on a mission for the LDS Church. He had been gone for a year and wouldn’t return for another year. Truthfully, before he left, I couldn’t wait for him to go. I hoped that we would both be more mature by the time he returned.
It was Valentine's Day and I recall sitting in one of my classes. Some of the girls had been given flowers or treats. It wasn’t a big deal, but secretly I wished that just once someone would do that for me. I’m sure my sister felt the same way.
We were shocked when we returned home after school that day. There on the counter sat two beautiful bouquets of red roses. There were cards attached. One was addressed to my sister and the other to me. I was thrilled. I told Mom how nice it was that Dad had done that for us, since I had really wanted to get roses that day.
My mom smiled as she responded, “They aren’t from Dad.”
As I opened the card, tears came to my eyes as I read the simple note.
To Kate,
Happy Valentines Day.
I love you.
Love, Jeff
Unprompted, my brother had used his own money and sent flowers to my sister and me in Utah all the way from Alabama where he was serving his mission.
I have had some great Valentine's Days since then. I have received my share of flowers and notes. But I can honestly say none have touched my heart in quite the same way as the roses and card from my brother Jeff, who incidentally has become my good friend.

Thursday, January 29, 2015

Re-upholstered-no sew chairs

So when we bought our house, I knew that we would need furniture, but that we would be house poor. 

My solution was to buy some wing back chairs at the D.I. (It's like a Saver's or a store where people donate their used stuff.) I bought two chairs and spent $35.00 on the pair. They sat in my garage for awhile until we decided that we were done updating the house for this year. 

I pulled them out and bought some fabric for $85. That was a great deal at $7 dollars a yard. I bought about 12 yards and had some leftover. 

My sister had covered a couple of wing back chairs which she has featured on her blog. (A link to her blog is on my side bar.) I was super nervous because I am not a perfectionist and I didn't know what in the world I was doing. I tried watching a couple tutorials on the internet, but gave up and just dove in and figured it out as I went after my sister encouraged me too. It was trial and error, but seriously not bad at all (two days work) and super worth it!!! 

 I started by covering the "wings. I just tucked the fabric into the crevice and found some wood in there to staple it too. It's a lot easier with two people so one person can push the cushion down why the other staples the fabric. You have to get pretty deep in there.
 Then I just pulled the fabric tight behind the wings and stapled it anywhere there was wood framing.
 The top picture shows the side with the exposed staples.
 The wings looked good so I kept on going. I did the arms next. I stapled the fabric deep underneath the arms so the staples were hidden and again tucked and staples the inside part.
 The front I covered and stapled to the bottom and the edges.
 My fabric is kind of busy and I was glad, because it hid a couple of staples I had to staple on the outside.
 Not the most flattering pictures. Why you ask am I in workout clothes to re-upholster the chair?
1-Because I am always in workout clothes. It gives the illusion that I work out even when I don't. and
2- I was sweating as if I had worked out after doing the chairs. Sweat = workout in my book so yeah I worked out.

This picture shows the "seams" I created by hiding the staples.
 So I'm sorry we didn't take more pictures of the process, but you get the idea-really you probably don't, but I didn't either and look at these awesome chairs I covered. So I guess embrace your ADHD impatience, and non perfectionism and dig in. So here is the finished product. The toughest part is once you have all the exposed staples,  you then have to cover them with fabric. So you staple the underside of the fabric for the back of the chair and then fold the fabric down which creates a line and consequently a "seam." You do that on all the flat sides.
 BOOM! Yep, that just happened. Two awesome chairs for $75 a piece. I had a girl in my neighborhood sew the cushions-which she did for $20 a piece. I wasn't about to ruin the chairs I had made by trying to sew some cushions. Anyway not bad. So glad that there are creative and crafty woman out there who think up the ideas and let us copy them!! Yay plagiarism!!
 So once I had the chairs I of course wanted a side table. It's the whole if you give a mouse a cookie thing. I again was cheap and didn't want to spend more than $50. Which is what I ended up spending on this bad boy. The table top was a Pottery barn side table that was broken that I got at their salvage store and the bottom is a bar stool that the top was broken off of. I saw the two and thought maybe I could put them together and make a side table. By "me" I meant my husband. Which he did. He's awesome. He hates it BTW. That's how I knew it was good.
 Here is a look at the underside of the table. The barstool part.
 I will try to find some before pictures of our fireplace because that is a crazy transformation. The lanterns I got at the same salvage store as the chairs. They were ten dollars a piece. They were rusted and ugly orange so I spray painted them black and that was that. The dining room table is in there temporarily, but I actually think it's fine. Now when I scrounge up a few more bucks I will set out to decorate the mantel and the other side of this room. It's coming together.

Tuesday, January 27, 2015

Latest article. How 2 boys taught me not to assume the worst.


BOUNTIFUL — Late afternoon this past summer I was out in the garden picking tomatoes when, suddenly, my 2-year-old who had been there moments before was nowhere to be found.
Our house sits at the end of a dead-end street, eight houses up from a very busy road. As I ran to the front of the house, I looked down the street. I could barely make out a tiny object just feet from the main road.
"Oh please. Please don’t let that be him," I pleaded.
I began to walk fearfully toward it when suddenly I knew what it was: My son’s wiggle car with him on top, his tiny legs pushing it forward, unnoticed by passing cars.
Panic gripped me as I flung off my sandals and began to run as fast as I could. Time slowed.
Two children stood on the street corner just a few feet from my son, watching. I thought, "I am about to watch my own child get run over by a car. My life will be ruined — my husband's, our children, whoever hits him, and those two kids watching — and it’s all my fault."
Horrified, I knew I would never make it in time. I began to pray out loud. “Please God. There’s no way I’m going to make it in time. Please stop him!”
In that moment I screamed as loud as I could. “Edison! Stop!”
Edison calmly stood up, his legs still straddling the wiggle car, and waited for me.
I have never felt relief like that moment I grabbed him in my arms.
I stared at those two boys on the corner. They were probably 5 and 8 years old. I was so upset. It was all I could do not to yell, “How come you just stood there and watched him trying to drive into the street?! Why didn’t you go get your mom or grab him?”

Yes, they had stood there. But not just watching him; watching over him — a minor detail that made all the difference.
I knew that was wrong. Of course the fault lied with me and me alone. So instead I bit my tongue and shot out a sarcastic, “Thank you!”
A couple of weeks ago I saw those two boys on the corner again. Out of curiosity, I went up and talked to them. I asked them if they wondered, that day, where in the world the little boy’s mom was. One of the boys kind of smiled and said, “Yeah.”
I smiled back and thanked them for real this time, though I didn’t know why I had. Maybe subconsciously I somehow knew the real story.
That Sunday I met the mother of the two boys. I told her the whole story. She smiled, “I know. My older son came in that day and said, 'Holy cow. I just got that lady’s kid out of the street and then she yelled at me.' ”
I was annoyed at this. As I walked away my first thought was, “I didn’t yell at him. I bit my tongue. In fact, I should have yelled. He stood there and watched instead of going for help.”
And then all of a sudden something she had said hit me with full force. I went back over to her, this time humbled.
“My son was still in the road when I got to him, but he was on the side of the road.” I told her. “Your son said he got him out of the street.”
The woman nodded.
“Did your sons tell my baby to stay there?” I asked her. “Did they stop him from going any further?”
The woman nodded. “That’s what they told me.”
I thanked the woman profusely and then told her to please tell her children how grateful I was. I told her to send them over any time for cookies or to come play at our house.
As I walked away I couldn’t fight the emotion. I had been taught an extremely valuable lesson. I had assumed these boys had just stood there and watched my child make his way to certain death, but my assumption couldn’t have been further from the truth. Yes, they had stood there. But not just watching him; watching over him — a minor detail that made all the difference.
As I walked away I wondered how many other times I had assumed the worst about a situation or someone when the opposite was really true.
A priceless lesson I learned from two young boys who saved my toddler's life.

AFTER THOUGHT (after reading comments left on the article):

I found it so interesting when I read the comments (which I rarely do. It's sad, but most of the time people pick out the negative and comment about that. Thank you to all of you - that see the truth.)

People said I didn't do enough for those two kids. They are right. Truly how could I do enough for them?

However they did the very thing that I had done. They assumed.

I did talk to those boys and I did apologize and thank them. In fact I say that earlier in my story. I simply did not go into details choosing instead to focus on what I had done wrong so that other's could perhaps learn from my mistake.

I really appreciated a girl that commented that as a mother she could understand that situation, that every kid gets away from us at some point. What is sad to me is when we read about stories of people who accidentally leave a child in the car or accidentally run over a child or any other genuine accident that is horrific and people take the opportunity to pounce on those people. Letting them know how horrible they are-as if they don't already believe that about themselves. As if they will ever ever be normal again. As if any cruel, judgmental and ignorant thing said in hate will "teach them a lesson". As if they haven't suffered enough - we decide to inflict more damage and pain. I hope I am never ever among that group who mis-judges a person who has gone through such a heartache. I hope I am never among the group that suffers that heartache. I hope I am someone that does not assume and I hope that when I do wrongfully assume the person I have wronged will forgive me.