Cheryl-Anne Millsap

Lake Roosevelt, Wash. Howard and Joann Walker wanted something a little different for their Lake Roosevelt home.

The summer she graduated from high school, Julia Sweeney paused as she worked behind the concession stand in the faded, elegant lobby of the Fox Theater. From beyond the big double doors she could hear the waves of laughter as audiences watched the antics of John Belushi and the rest of the cast of "Animal House," the movie that would become a cult classic.

When you sit down with a copy of MaryJane Butters' new book (so new it just hit the stores Tuesday), unlike other lifestyle, how-to books written by larger-than-life women, you aren't left feeling inadequate. Instead, you feel inspired. Butters stirs a timely organic lifestyle with how-to hints and a hearty dose of down-home philosophy into one heavy volume and serves up a winner.

A house is more than board feet of lumber and bags of nails. It is more than a shelter to keep a family warm and dry. A house, with walls for privacy and security; wiring and plumbing, heat and air conditioning; with a driveway and landscaping, is a product of many hands and skilled labor. Skills learned the hard way, through long days, good and bad weather and the patient tutelage of a mentor.

Just four months after the Empire State Building was dedicated in May of 1931, Spokane's own art deco gem opened in gala fashion. The grand opening featured five Hollywood stars and drew a crowd of 50,000 star-struck spectators who lined the streets in downtown Spokane.

I carry my weight around my hips and my heart on my sleeve. Everything else goes in my purse. I've always had a thing for purses. As a little girl I crouched in the closet searching for clues to my enigmatic mother in the scraps of paper, bits of tobacco and green pennies left in the bottom of her handbags.

Linda Forrester likes to watch those extreme remodel shows on television – the ones where an owner is banished and put up in style while a crew transforms the house – and imagine it happening to her. She follows the shocked family as they make their way through a house that is suddenly unrecognizable, gaping at new carpets and colors, crying over surprise renovations and unexpected gifts.

It is a little known fact that, when the conditions are just right, I can close my eyes, tilt my head and make the low, warbling, throaty sound of a barred owl calling out for a mate. This is a little known fact because I only do it for my children, and it's not the kind of thing they brag about to their friends. I don't know why I got that particular gift, instead of, say, a lilting soprano, or the ability to draw portraits instead of stick figures or even the basic math skills to balance my checkbook without making a mistake, but that's what I got.

Think about the grim, stoic, faces of the frightened soldiers and weary firefighters you see in the newspaper and on the 11 o'clock news. Think about the bitter, angry women who complain that their silent husbands don't respond, don't show love and emotion, and don't reach out for them. Think about the ordinary men who go through the worst life has to offer – the death of a loved one, a divorce and fight-to-the-death custody battle, the loss of a job or career – with clenched teeth and clenched fists, but without making a sound. Think about when you were a kid and you saw a little boy fall on the playground, taking the skin off his knees, and get right back up, biting his lip to hold back the tears. Think about the first time you heard these words: Big boys don't cry. Think again.

IF YOU'RE A KID, everyone knows you like to unwrap presents. But, sometimes, people forget that you can have just as much fun wrapping them up. If you're an artist, used to working with hard material like glass and stone, it's fun to play with paper once in a while and help a child wrap those gifts. Glass and stone artist, Judy Klier, stays busy. In past summers she has held a children's art camp for Mead School District students. Currently she's busy with a commission to add hand-carved paw prints to a stone fireplace. Klier, a mother of three, volunteers in her daughter's fourth-grade classroom at Colbert Elementary and this year she was in charge of coming up with a creative package for the students' hand-made gifts. Teacher, Linda Jokinen looks forward to Klier's projects. "Judy is so cool. She's always coming up with these great ideas," Jokinen says. "And the kids love it."

It's hard to get used to how things have changed. Now, instead of presenting me with homemade gifts, usually a school picture framed in Elmer's glue and glitter, or a construction paper and Popsicle stick craft, my older children ask me what I would like for Christmas.

Last week I took my two younger daughters to see Pixar's new movie, "The Incredibles." If you aren't familiar with the plot, the animated movie is about the adventures of a family who has super gifts.