Adventures of the Domestic Engineer

Book Quote Thursday: Happy February!

2012-02-02T19:39:00.003-07:00

Happy Thursday to you! The first book quote for the month of February is from a book I have loved ever since I can remember being able to read it. I find it particularly poignant right now so I thought I would share.

“Burdens are for shoulders strong enough to carry them.”

Kind of obscure? Here's another hint:

'You're so brutal to those who love you, {insert name}. You take their love and hold it over their heads like a whip.'

Care to guess? Remember...at the end of the month all correct answers will be put in a drawing for fabulous Blog Candy sent directly to you by Yours Truly.

Love,
Your Truly

Wednesday's Neurosis: The Chopping Block...

2012-02-01T19:24:00.000-07:00

Oh how our culinary lives have been enriched by our prized kitchen knives! For years He-Man wished for good, solid knives while with every mentioning of such desire, I had visions of serious appendage injuries and blood loss. (And that's not even factoring our children into the equation.)

It wasn't until a chat with a chef that my worries were dispelled and I realized the dull, cheap second-hand knives we were using had greater potential for destruction than a slick and quick slicer and dicer. Shortly thereafter, He-Man's birthday present consisted of a Henckels block and knives and a cake to christen them with.

Since then, neither one of us could imagine preparing food without them. They have their own special spot right by the marble cutting block. And when not in use, they MUST be stored like this.


Notice the uniformity in their placement. Beautiful. They say, "Pick me! Pick me...to slice that juicy tomato over on the counter. I promise to slice right through it and not even make you bleed." Very courteous aren't they?

Recently, someone, who shall remain nameless, discovered how funny it is to make mom/wife crazy by messing with yin yang balance of the cutlery world. Sure! It's fun to see mom implode!

You might ask, "How does one accomplish such a thing?"

Feast your eyes upon this and tell me; DOES THAT NOT MAKE YOU CRAZY?!

What snarky-clever person doesn't seem to realize is that opposite to an angel getting his wings every time a bells rings is that every time a knife is purposely misplaced within its block, somewhere in the world, a teenage mutant ninja turtle receives a flesh wound.

For the love of samurai ninjas everywhere, PUT THE KNIVES AWAY IN THEIR PROPER POSITIONS.

It is up to us to save the turtles.

Book Quote Blog Candy...

2012-01-31T10:53:00.002-07:00

It's been a couple of rough days but I think the worst has past (I'm okay, really). Unfortunately, I'm not feeling very wordy right now. But I will say this. My super scientific randomly awesome random numberator (it's a bonafide generator) picked out two winners of the Thursday's Book Quote blogpost.

You ALL guessed it correctly, "You Are Special" by Max Lucado. Just a tidbit of information: he is a Christian minister and a bestselling author of over 50 books. AND, in my humble opinion, has blessings awaiting him in heaven for the peace, love and joy he has spread throughout the world.

So...the winners are:

Lynn D. from Jacksonville, Florida

and

Abby H. from Los Angeles, California

Congrats, Ladies! You win a super snazzy surprise coming to you directly from ME!

Silent Saturday: BEST PICTURE I'VE EVER TAKEN!

2012-01-28T20:27:00.001-07:00

Book Quote Thursday and a Thank YOU!

2012-01-26T23:08:00.001-07:00

My Sweet Friends,

Thank you for your sweet, beautiful messages and words of love. I'm overwhelmed. I'm absolutely unworthy but have every intention of doing all I can to measure up and pay it forward...

It's back to blogging I go. It's a new year filled with new things to write about. As with other years, I've been thinking of ways to make blogging fun and had an idea. When I post on Thursdays, I will include a quote from a book (children's, historical fiction, young adult, etc.)

Go ahead, have a guess at what book the quote is from...everyone who answers correctly will be put into a blog drawing for a blog candy prize at the end of the month. Two people will win. This week's quote will be the only one for January. I will post the winners next Tuesday...

I happen to have been thinking about this book lately. I love it so much. Rereading it to my children recently, I recommitted to being more like Lucia...

"...She had no dots or stars. She was just wooden. Her name was Lucia. It wasn't that people didn't try to give her stickers; it's just that the stickers didn't stick..."

A penny for your thoughts?

Joining the Club Noone Wants to Be In...

2012-01-23T22:02:00.001-07:00

I've hesitated writing this post. It's so personal and so raw for many, many families. Yet, I must write. It's what I do, a big part of who I am. It's how I deal with life in general, the good and the bad. I choose to share this because I'm kind of an open book and, well, to slap a smile on my face and pretend like nothing ever happened would make it all feel so disingenuous.

Last week I was initiated into a club. Every since I was a little girl, I was aware of some of it's members; my mom, aunts, friends. It often begins with that head-spinning, butterflies-in-the-stomach realization that there are indeed two pink lines instead of one.

It often seems to include thinking of some clever way to inform the guilty party of the success of previous shenanigans with it's accompanying goofy boy-like grin that melts a girl's heart all over again.

It's a secretive smile between the two lovers knowing they know something no one else does.

It's dropping wild hints just waiting for others to catch on and giggling when no one does.

It's letting it slip because you can't bare lying to your closest friends when they ask, point blank...or not being able to contain it when you MUST tell a particular person.

It's letting the older siblings know and watching their eyes light up and hearing their squeals of delight.

It's having the overwhelming desire to PUKE YOUR EVER-LOVIN' brains out day after day...especially when onions are within close proximity.

Then one day you don't. You feel fine and that is when you know something is wrong.

It's not even needing an ultrasound technician to tell you what is clearly on the screen.

It's the the Waiting Game, hoping your body knows what to do rather than waiting for cold, metal medical equipment to make their invasion to do the job.

It's watching the crushed, heartbroken look on a big sister's face after she asks, "Is it a boy or girl?"

It's still wanting to puke your ever-lovin' brains out even though you have nothing to show for it.

It's having to respond to the sincere, sweet greeting, "Congratulations! I heard the news..."

And for those who you planned to tell the moment you saw them again, how do you bring that subject up? "Well, I was pregnant but...nevermind." (It's an awkward sort of conversation starter.)

It's that club; the one no one really wants to be part of.

I will never forget that Fourth of July in Logan, Utah. My dad was going to school there (yep, he's an Aggie). My Uncle Ray brought his fiance, Lillian and our grandparents up from SLC. We all sat on our front lawn to watch the fireworks.

We were all talking, waiting anxiously for the big show. Suddenly, my mom cried out in pain. Bursting into tears, she ran into the house. When we saw her again, her eyes were red and she was curled up under a blanket. She had lost her baby. I don't even remember knowing she was pregnant.

I never fully understood what she went through. I'm sure I still don't since she would face it 4 more times.

The last time it happened, I was 12 years old. Mom had told me in confidence that she was pregnant a few days earlier and I was determined to keep the secret (which was highly unusually for me). We awakened in the morning to get ready for school. Going into our parent's room, I noticed my mother looked pale and sickly. She was bleeding...a lot.

Understandably, some 20+ years later, she was, of course, who I was on the phone with in the early morning hours, frightened at the unknown process my body was going through that felt vaguely familiar at the same time.

It's interesting the random things that pop into a person's head during times like this...I love Sarah McLachlan. Many of her songs speak to my soul. Yet, I've never really cared for her song 'Angel'. For one reason or another, I've never really connected with it. But alone, holed up in my own mind for several days, the words to that song have returned to my mind over and over again. For once, I think I get it.

I tried to go out for a little while on Saturday, perhaps just so I could say I did. It felt so strange, so different. I felt vacant and hollow. The air around me seemed changed. It was gorgeous weather but so oddly 'blah'. I'm not sure I've actually ever felt melancholy before.

Even wading through all that gloom, however, I would be remiss if I didn't stop and make a mental note of all the tender mercies that have happened around me during the past few days. They have reminded me that while yes, this royally SUCKS, all will be well again. I may not feel like me right now, but someday soon, with the help of Divine Intervention, Pompeii Purple nail polish and a hot bubble bath, all will be well.

These are little rose petals, dropped along my path this past week, too sweet, too generously convenient to be 'just coincidence'. I find it beautiful that more often than not, those tender mercies come in the form of the people around you.

The moment I was getting really scared, a friend of mine called. It was certainly something she could have waited until after 9 am for but for some reason, she just felt like calling at 7:15. Her voice grounded me and helped me regain a bit of focus.

Several women jumped instantly out of the wood work, taking my kids so I could get to the doctor...then taking them again as I rested over the next few days.

As I prepared for the ultrasound, freezing cold, with my bum exposed to the office air conditioner, I looked at the ceiling above me. Someone had posted a scripture out of the Book of Jeremiah. It was one reminding the reader that God has a grander plan, that it will not lead to our disaster but to our good.

The moment He-Man saw me, he opened his wonderful, protecting arms and wrapped them around me. If those hugs are a miracle, I'm not sure what is!

It touched my heart that the doctor sitting across from me, telling me what I already knew, had such heartfelt compassion and empathy for me. He probably gives this kind of news to hundreds upon hundreds of women each year. Yet me made me feel like our loss was important to him.

I drove home that night, dreading the report I would be giving my awaiting family. I saw a good friend of ours running with his son. They are preparing for a race together. I noticed they were laughing and enjoying the time they had together. Those two served as a reminder that we have that kind of relationship with our children, that He-Man and I are not alone in this and there are many joys still to be had.

My toddler suddenly took a liking to sauteed asparagus and mushrooms and snuggled up with me as we noshed on them together when food began to taste good again. It seems so simple really, but that moment will forever mean the world to me.

My sweet Oregon friend shipped a care package that miraculously arrived with a day or two.

Tender Mercies are the friends that stop by baring flowers, fruit and drinks to keep myself hydrated, and delicious gluten free goodies. They call, just to make sure all is well, or at least okay.

How could I possibly be worthy of such generous expressions of love and care...even more, how can I return the favor?

Maybe the answer to that question is very simple...I can't.

BUT perhaps these experiences can allow me to be more empathetic, more understanding to others who suffer such loss. Sometimes, you can't possibly know how it feels until you feel it yourself. Right? I truly hope I can learn from this experience and pay it forward.

To all of you beautiful souls who've ached and regretted your own initiation into this club of ours, I'm so desperately sorry. My heart aches for you. Our hearts are bound together by a common mourning. You are not alone.

To everyone else, thank you for being the Tender Mercies that someone around you needs.

Silent Saturday

2012-01-14T20:35:00.002-07:00

One of my goals for the new year is to post on my blog more frequently. I've decided to keep a theme on specific days, such as Memory Monday. For one post each week, I thought I would include a photo sans explanation. I introduce you to Silent Saturday...

Wednesday's Neurosis

2012-01-11T20:25:00.003-07:00


Meet my refrigerator door. All sweet items must be in this compartment. If there are too many to fit into this designated shelf, one must be sacrificed...probably the chocolate sauce since it's so usual. If the items are the same type of product, they must be touching. Torani syrup, for those yummy Italian sodas we drink like once every five years, the dairy creamers for hot cocoa since drinking naked hot cocoa is vulgar and Pomegranate Grenadine for Shirley Temples...again consumed once in a blue moon. But you never know when that hankering for froofy drinks will overcome you. One must always be prepared.

The Best of 2011

2012-01-10T21:20:00.004-07:00

I'm ringing out the old year...10 days late.

BEST Pictures

Then, of course, here are a few that won't be making it into our albums for obvious reasons!

Best Movies (viewed in 2011)

'Amazing Grace', 2006, starring Ioan Gruffudd, Benedict Cumberbatch and Rufus Sewell (TOTALLY underrated actor)

This is a fantastic movie retelling the true story of Henry Thornton, serving as a member of Parliament between the late 1700s and early 1800s. He makes it his personal mission to eradicate the British slave trade and is led on by the man who wrote the Christian hymn 'Amazing Grace'...a monk who reformed himself from being a slave trader himself.

'Luther', 2003, starring Joseph Fiennes and Alfred Molina

The movie begins by introducing us to a young and confused Martin Luther, founder of the Lutheran Church.

I've resisted watching this movie for years, convinced I didn't have the time or emotional fortitude to watch a heavy breather about Germany in the Middle Ages. Maybe it was the magic of watching it while riding along Germany's Black Forest or being abjectly humbled by the day's visit to a Concentration Camp. Whatever it was, I found 'Luther' heartbreaking and riveting. I have a whole new respect for what he was able to overcome and then accomplish in his providentially guided life.

'Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 1 and 2, starring...DUH!

I know it's probably cliche by now, but I truly LOVED both of these movies. There were so many elements of the story I envisioned just as they were depicted on the big screen.

Almost everyone who loves HP has an emotional connection to it. I'm no different. He-Man and I began reading them when he was starting college. The last book came out right after he graduated from his doctorate program. We spent many nights between studying, pouring over the pages of the series. We purchased Book 5 on the way home from Utah back to Oregon. We began reading during the first hour and read to each other through the night...12 hours. We were both hoarse and exhausted pulling up to our apartment the next morning. Oh, the memories! Those two movies were the end of an era for us....I guess we have to grow up now...DANG IT!

Best New (to me anyway) Songs that gave my morning run a little extra pep:

'Magic', B.o.B
At first, I HATED this song. I thought it was soooooo dumb! It makes me crazy to hear terrible annunciation in the form of song because inevitably, I sing right along and look like an idiot. But this song grew on me before I had a chance to revolt.

You know me, I break all the rules like Evel Knievel.

Don't be hatin' cause my heart pumps diesel (even though it's soooo not environmentally friendly).

'Every Teardrop is a Waterfall', Coldplay
This song is EPIC. I highly recommend running on the beach to it!

'Faster', Matt Nathanson
I love this song for sexy He-Man reasons. Nuff said.

'Tonight, Tonight', Hot Chelle Rae
I know, I know...totally Top 40...whatever

'Sweet Serendipity', Lee DeWyze
Apparently he was an American Idol guy a couple of years ago. Great song. I heard it at the gym and was hooked from then on.

'Rhythm of Love', Plain White T's
I had no idea this song came from the same guys that sing that 'Delilah' song...nails on a chalk-board kind of loathing of that one. But I LOVE this one!

'Young Blood', The Naked and Famous
Two words: International Awesomeness. I highly recommend cranking this song up in your minivan. It'll make you feel like you're driving 80 on along the Italian Coast...in a Ferrari. It will also make you feel like you're 17 again.

'Squealing Pigs', Admiral Fallow
My Ode to the British Countryside...happy sigh.

'Kung Fu Fighting', Cee Lo Green's remix
Except for the fact that the natural course of listening to this song was Ruby learning how to Karate Chop the shins of everyone above five feet tall.

DISHONORABLE MENTION
Pumped Up Kicks, Foster the People

One of my faves of big bro and me EVER!

When The Flash and I met in Chicago for our little jog, I decided this was meant to be our anthem. And it ended up becoming that...until big brother enlightened me on what it was about. REALLY not cool. For that, I can never listen to the song now without feeling puppy killing guilt...which cancels out the enjoyment to begin with.

New Faces

Verne, The Russian War Hamster


Intruders Beware, He's got fangs

New Realizations

Surrounded by a bunch of Jags fans? What makes you think that?

I've heard of Strawberry Fields but what about Marshmallow Fields?

While the mosquitoes glut themselves off the blood of anything that moves down here in Neverland, fireflies visit in the Spring and kind of make it worth it!


Apparently, we have a daughter who is old enough to drive a golf cart!

2011: Year of the Backyard

Memorial Day Dodge Ball Tournament

Homeschool Co-Op P.E. Class

Smores Anyone?

Backyard Star Wars Movie Night-

Cheeky Stormtrooper making commentary during the movies? Yes, please!

In Memoriam...

2012-01-08T16:19:00.001-07:00

Ever since I could remember, People Magazine has released their annual 'In Memoriam' to honor those in entertainment who passed away during the year. While waiting in the check-out line, I'm pretty sure I've skimmed through the glossy pages of at least 20+ years of them. Inevitably, there are always faces that cause me to pause and reflect upon how these people practicing their craft, touched my heart. Peter Falk and Harry Morgan were included in this year's edition. They are faces from my childhood.

Sigh.

Obviously, those people who made it into the magazine have a huge fan base. More importantly, they have families, people who will miss them desperately. Their absence will be felt by their loved ones less for what they did on the big or small screen but more for the impact they made upon their families.

Considering this made me wish I had, at my disposal, the funds to properly reverence the beautiful people I've been richly blessed to know who have passed on this year...those who have touched so many lives and are absolutely deserving of accolades from a nationally published magazine. Yet, their quiet acts of service to others, their many kindnesses and the goodness they brought to the earth, will regrettably, go unknown to the mass population.

I'm still getting use to this idea. And of being old enough to see the older generation pass away...even more, outliving the younger generation. I don't know that I'll ever get use to that.

A beautiful, young mother lost her life to domestic violence this year. He-Man and I were her Sunday School teachers. She was barely a teen when we met her. She positively sparkled and was full of goodness. It still takes my breath away to consider that we knew her at mid-life.

There was a dear friend who taught me more about living life to the fullest RIGHT NOW rather than waiting until things were easier, better, happier. She was a little older than Sunshine when she died. This year when we watched 'A Christmas Carol', I saw her in Tiny Tim's face.

Two great men who served as Bishops, leaders of our congregation when we were kids, passed away this year. It hurts my heart to think about how much their families must miss them. They spent their lives serving others. One of them was the Guidance Counselor at our high school. He was ALWAYS kind to everyone...especially to his family. Our families were neighbors so we got to see, first hand, just how truly noble he was.

Our Dugway High School Art teacher passed away a few months ago. It still breaks my heart. She created a refuge in her art room and offered it to us. It was almost magical...like a protective bubble from the rest of the world. Everything seemed quieter and safer there. I will never forget the smell of the tempera paint we used to make our banners for football games after school. Today when I smell that kind of paint, I'm taken back to those happy afternoons.

The two that hit closest to home recently, are the passing of my Grandfather Paul and He-Man's Grandmother Lavona.

Tonight, I came upon grandpa's obituary. It brought a fresh wave of emotion. He really was surrounded by his family when he passed, just like it said. The feelings, impressions while sitting with his children, my aunts and uncles, and watching them carry him out together will be a sacred memory I treasure forever.

I miss knowing he's there in that blessed little house I've loved so much. It makes my heart ache thinking about the people who miss him the most.

When we went to Weisbaden, Germany in October, I took a picture of the bassoon factory where he actually purchased the bassoon my brother would eventually play professionally. It moved me to know that he walked the very steps I trod decades before. My sweet Daddy came with me.

Then there's Grandma LaVona. She was always happy to see us. I hope I never forget the way her voice sounded whenever she would say 'Well Hello!' She was always smiling in the pictures taken of her...except for the last one. She looked so frail and so scared. It haunted me. I'm grateful she's at peace now. We just will miss her.

I've tried, several times, to write this post. Every time it seemed so not enough. 2011 drifted away before I could finally find my words. Yet they will never do these amazing people justice. Then again, I can't seem to write anything else until I contribute my measly part to write, on proverbial stone, about just how much better this world is because they were in it. And there are literally thousands of people who feel the same way about each one of them.

I guess the trick is to remember what each person taught us; to allow their legacy to live on by our actions to others. This makes me want to shout from the rooftops that I will never forget what they taught me, no matter how much time passes by.

I will always remember.

Memory Monday Postponed...

2011-12-19T21:28:00.000-07:00

Late last night as I prepared to turn my computer off and go to bed, I received word that He-Man's sweet grandmother past away a few minutes prior. For the past 24 hours, our family has been shedding tears over her loss.

In order to create a proper tribute, I have decided to wait until tomorrow to share a special Memorial Monday on her behalf and also a few other people who have been on my mind lately.

Simple Sabbath: Good King Wenceslas

2011-12-18T21:52:00.003-07:00

Lately, I have found myself particularly interested in some of the more traditional Christmas carols. Our family has loved singing about that chubby goose soon to be gracing the Christmas dinner table after a (hopefully) swift demise...Although putting a penny in an old man's hat seems a bit insulting since that means the poor guy will now be forced to carry loose change. It's a catchy tune that we've been singing for two Christmases now.

This interest has led me to be more curious about others we've heard in passing, written in days of yore and spreading holiday cheer throughout ages. One in particular captured my curiosity recently. 'Good King Wenceslas' has a beautiful melody. If you don't recognize it right away, you will once you hear it.

It's in everything from Captain Jean Luc Picard's version of 'A Christmas Carol' (seriously...Patrick Stewart= BEST. EBENEZER. SCROOGE. EVER!) to a very scary Tom Hanks ghost singing it while sitting on top of the Polar Express to Hugh Grant singing it as the British Prime Minister.

I finally decided to look up the words with the intent to teach it to our family this year. I was never expecting what I found. It turned out to be one of the most beautiful songs I have ever heard. It speaks a universal truth in the tale of the patron saint of the Czech Republic, Wenceslas I, Duke of Bohemia.

Any commentary I could attempt to make would be an inefficient effort to improve upon it. So I'm just going to leave you with the words to the song.

Good King Wenceslas looked outon the feast of Stephen,when the snow lay round about,deep and crisp and even.Brightly shown the moon that night,though the frost was cruel,when a poor man came in sight,gathering winter fuel.

Hither, page, and stand by me.If thou know it telling:yonder peasant, who is he?Where and what his dwelling? Sire, he lives a good league hence,underneath the mountain,right against the forest fenceby Saint Agnes fountain.

Bring me flesh, and bring me wine.Bring me pine logs hither.Thou and I will see him dinewhen we bear the thither. Page and monarch, forth they went,forth they went togetherthrough the rude wind's wild lamentand the bitter weather.

Sire, the night is darker now,and the wind blows stronger.Fails my heart, I know not how.I can go no longer. Ark my footsteps my good page,tread thou in them boldly:Thou shalt find the winter's ragefreeze thy blood less coldly.

In his master's step he trod,where the snow lay dented.Heat was in the very sodwhich the saint had printed.Therefore, Christian men, be sure,wealth or rank possessing,ye who now will bless the poorshall yourselves find blessing

Top 5 Things I Never Thought I'd Say...

2011-12-16T16:43:00.003-07:00

There comes a time in every young mother's life when she realizes that no amount of preparation could prepare her for the very real scenarios she would be faced with. She is, of course, the primary entity responsible for teaching her charges to be socially adept and respectable to the rest of the world. Of course, this comes at a time when she overestimates the reaches of Common Sense...especially in the minds of people who happen to be under the age of 10 years old.

The following are 5 things I never thought I would utter but have actually escaped from my lips...

1. "When borrowing someone's underwear, PLEASE, wash them afterward!"

2. "Quit undressing the Wiseman. It's not historically accurate!"

3. "Holy Leopard Print Lycra..You must break off the t.p. BEFORE using it!"

4. "Who keeps chewing off Barbie's fingers?"

5. "I don't care what she did to your underwear...sitting on her face is NOT nice!"

Let's face it, it's not pretty. In fact, on ocassion it's like a war zone around here . BUT somehow, it's worth it.

Memory Monday: ROUSes

2011-12-12T20:25:00.000-07:00

It's funny how history repeats itself.

When I was a young child pets, mostly dogs, never lasted long in our home. With 3-5 very rambunctious children in their midst, they would either spring out the first chance they had or get fed up with our dog-torturing antics and bite one of us. In this case my parents would promptly find new homes, probably worried we would turn into crazy animal torturers someday.


The first dog who didn't cut and run the first chance he had.

Puppy Love: The Best Dog Ever There Was

It was once in between pets that I asked my mom if we could get a gerbil, hamster or other such rodent. Her response was swift and decisive.

"Absolutely not." she said, leaving no room for potential with a 'Maybe' or 'We'll see'.

"Whh-hhhh-hhhh-y not?" I replied (I'm sure I was wailing bitter, lonely-for-a-pet tears).

"Because they eat their young." she replied, matter of factly.

My youthful innocence died a little that day.

Eventually, she went on to explain that as a child, she too, pleaded for a rodent-of-usual-size. Her parents actually acquiesced and gave her a boy rodent and a girl rodent...who promptly became a papa rodent and momma rodent, respectively.

After multiplying their numbers by, like exponents, my mother was awakened from sleep one night by a dreadful sound. It was the sound of little rodent babies meeting a rather gruesome fate at the hands...errr paws, of their momma.

Thus eradicating the domesticated rodent population in my mother's childhood home forever.

It was for this reason there were never little critters in cages at our home.

Months ago, a child came to me and asked "Momma, can we get a guinea pig?"

"No." was my swift, immediate response.

"Whh-hhhh-hhhh-y not?" she cried.

The phrase "Because they eat their young," escaped my lips before I even knew what I was saying.

In consequence, I looked into her beautiful blue eyes, searching for any indication that my carelessly spoken words damaged her world of sparkles, sunshine and vermin that are cute, cuddly and don't carry disease.

They didn't seem to. Instead, she indignantly put her hand to her hips and with a look of disgusted shock stated, "That is so mean! I would never do that!"

"That is definitely the right choice, honey."

***

About a month ago, a friend of mine retold a tragic story. It seems her cat, Buddy, made like the Incredible Hulk of cats. When the stimuli to his primal instincts were just right, he snapped and went postal on Jules and Verne, two unsuspecting Russian Dwarf Hamster brothers minding their own business in their swanky hamster digs. Verne squeaked by (bah-ha...that's punny) traumatized but physically unharmed. Jules didn't make it...by a long shot. (Alli mentioned a terrible scene of bloodshed-probably something like 'Wild Planet' meets 'Braveheart'.)


Meet Verne-The Ultimate Survivor

Needless to say, Verne needed a new feline-free home. And since we'd rather He-Man not require a Benedryl Drip, we were the perfect candidates. I had a logical conversation with myself (as logical as talking to oneself can be). I was able to hush any concerns by stating that one hamster can not spontaneously procreate thus avoiding said animal's cannibalistic feast. After a quick run down on how not to kill a hamster, I brought home, to the delighted squeals of a gaggle of little girls, Verne the Lonely Hamster. We had our first Rodent Of Usual Size.

During the following days I was peppered with questions over whether Verne was actually a boy since if he wasn't of the male persuasion, he simply had to be renamed 'Princess Verna' or 'Lady Verona of Jax'. While consulting a friend, she informed me that in such rodents, gender is very easy to determine as the male reproductive organs are almost mutantly large.

Let it be known to all records that his name will remain 'Verne'.

Time passed and eventually the funk surrounding Verne's cage indicated it was time for his house cleaning. All the adoring fans who spent hours each day fawning over him suddenly disappeared.

It was me, Verne and a vacuum.

During the first attempt, I noted how much easier he was to clean up after than goldfish...which are the most disgusting pets on earth, by the way. Then I found his poop spot. I couldn't help but pause and consider a deep, thought provoking issue I hadn't considered before. This little guy's ancestors were at least 50% responsible for the transmission of the bubonic plague that wiped out a bunch of Europe and Asia in the Middle Ages.

A rather disquieting thought considering I had just accidentally spilled the contaminated contents of the vacuum canister all over the carpeted playroom floor; leaving it peppered with urine soaked newspaper bedding and little Verne poops that, with the imagination of a 4 year old, could easily be passed as Barbie food...gracing the empty plates sitting on top of the little table in the doll house across the room.

Awesome. There goes 1/3 to 2/3 of our Barbie population.

Of course, those who know me best, know that I am grace under fire. My feathers don't get ruffled and I NEVER panic over silly stuff like biological contamination.

I did what any calm, rational adult dealing with a minor incident would do.

I called HAZMAT and explained that a major international incident was brewing considering that Barbie's health, who happened to be the president of the free world and three surrounding planets, was at stake and I needed back-up.

Luckily, the troops mobilized and within minutes, the threat was neutralized and the previously mentioned swanky digs were sterilized. All while sweet little Verne looked on, plotting his escape from the Dreaded Bubble of Isolation.

In the end, the situation wouldn't have been so bad had I not insisted on using the vacuum when the canister wasn't latched and on the verge of regurgitating it's contents.

It was a close one. We narrowly avoided inflicting rodent bias on a third generation. Because of my fearless efforts to go in, where the bombs were dropping, the following conversation will never take place.

"Momma, can I have a gerbil?"

"No"

"Whhhh-hhhh-hh-y not?"

"Because their ancestors were responsible for the mass annihilation of millions of Europeans from a disease that caused uncomfortable symptoms like bleeding from their eye sockets and having their fingers and toes turn black."

"Sweet Dreams, Darling."

Bringing Up The Subject Part II: Who Are YOU Voting For?

2011-12-11T19:16:00.001-07:00

Before I continue my post from yesterday and address this often inappropriate question, I need to express my gratitude...

Ladies and Gents, I am overwhelmed by the response I've received from yesterday's post. First of all, I am grateful to all of you for baring with all my spelling and grammatical errors. Writing between the hours of 12 and 2 a.m. meant that when I reread it the next morning I was mortified. BUT my very forgiving friends overlooked the ridiculousness and understood the point I was trying to make.

Secondly, and most important, THANK YOU for your priceless input. I was touched by the emails and messages you shared with me on the matter. From hearing from a dear friend who is the uncle of girls discriminated against for not fitting into a more conservative community to another cherished friend from childhood who happens to be a member of the FDLS church. (She shared interesting perspective on how people treat her children knowing their parents are polygamists.)

There were comments and messages from those who are generally part of the majority in their communities, are keenly aware of this and are active in teaching their families unconditional love and tolerance for others. While others offered priceless perspective, having experienced similar situations as my neighbor did and could relate to his legitimate concern.

It reminded me of a simple but sweet truth. Among the greatest treasures in my life are the many compassionate and genuinely loving people I know. They come from all walks, ideas and theologies of life and I am better because of each and everyone of them (YOU).

Thank you, my beautiful family and friends.

As promised, this post is the continuation of my last...

Nearly two months ago, I was in the Chicago O'Hare Airport waiting to come home after a race I ran with my brother. After eating some AWESOME sushi at a particularly swanky sushi bar, (I felt so fancy with my chopsticks and my laptop...I didn't even spill my drink once!) I headed to the terminal, hoping to continue the work on my manuscript. I had a lot of time to kill so I sat down in one of the only empty chairs at the gate. It happened to be next to a man who looked about my age.

Not wanting him to think I'm a snob with raging fish breath, I smiled and said hello (since a friendly person with fish breath is so much more tolerable). He responded kindly and somehow, probably because I can't sit next to anyone for more than 3.7 seconds without starting a conversation, we began to talk.

Very early into our conversation, we began discussing where we were from. He was native to the South and mentioned he was Southern Baptist. (As stated yesterday, I'm still getting used to discovering a person's religious affiliation within moments of meeting them.) He was very friendly and talked so kindly of his sweet wife and adorable baby boy.

My turn. I mentioned growing up as a military brat, grad-school in Oregon and having a 'home-base' in Utah. After mentioning Utah, he asked, "Then you're Mormon, aren't you?"

Yes I am, Sir(...and not the so-so kind. I'm the Molly Mormon who tried sooooo hard to be bad in junior high that I actually tried to smoke but the tumbleweed burned my lungs too much and I gave it up. I'm the Molly Mormon who wasn't allowed to say C--P! or D--M It! I'm the Molly Mormon who attempted to make her first pot of coffee AT THE AGE OF 27 but only because I worked at a restaurant. (It was kind of a disaster really. How was I suppose to know that pillow thing went inside?) I was the Molly Mormon who rebelled by attempting to wear a short skirt to church but felt so badly afterward that I threw the dress away. And I'm not sorry because that is who I am.)

This is where the conversation got dodgy and a bit uncomfortable.

His immediate response to my answer was "So you'll be voting for Mitt Romney then?"

I was stunned. On so many levels.

Let's not even discuss the assumption that I am of a particular political persuasion. The bigger concern was why on earth he would think I would vote for someone simply because they share my religious beliefs?

Legend has it that Butch Cassidy was a Mormon but that by no means encourages me to join the "Mormons for Butch Cassidy Historical Society". For all I know, they're out there somewhere trying to get a banking establishment named after him.

Please understand this is not an Anti-Mitt Romney diatribe. It's not Anti-Anyone...well, except for maybe Butch Cassidy. (Although, who wouldn't admit that Paul Newman was a dashing outlaw?) This is a "Huh? Why would a person vote for someone simply because they share religious beliefs?" type of discussion.

I don't get it.

During my schooling, I like many teenagers, undervalued some of the truly gifted educators who helped me think for myself. One of these was a history teacher who I saw at church every Sunday (I also happened to have accidentally mooned him at LDS girl's camp). It always struck me that he didn't seem to treat the Mormon kids differently from the rest of the kids.

He had a passion for American History, the Constitution and taught with us with a great love for his country. He reinforced what my parents and clergy taught me, especially as I approached voting age; That was to "vote as dictated by the promptings of my conscience." BUT after researching the issues and deciding what is important to me.

Left up to me at the time, a particularly flighty teen, I would have probably voted for a candidate simply because he smelled like 'Obsession' cologne or had been Marky Mark from the Funky Bunch.

Luckily, it was a while before I turned 18 and NOT an election year.

The point that I'm trying to make is that our voices are powerful ESPECIALLY if we choose to take the time to know who/what we support and not just because it's convenient or familiar.

I lived near Salt Lake City during the 2002 Winter Olympics which were headed up by Romney. It was an incredible experience, one that enriched my life and the lives of the students I taught. We took a field trip to meet Katrina Witt and explore Olympic Village and I have many positive opinions about how the city transformed during that time. Mitt Romney is part of that idealistic picture. However, I have yet to research his political career and the issues he is passionate about. It would be irresponsible for me to vote for him without doing so.

So I guess I ask the question once again, Why would a person vote for a candidate simply because they share the same religious beliefs? Even more, why would a person NOT vote for a candidate simply because of their religious beliefs? I would love to hear your thoughts on the matter.

In the meantime, I'd better start doing some reading!

Disclaimer: I really don't think there is a "Mormons for Butch Cassidy Historical Society".

October's Blog CAndy Goes To...

2011-10-29T18:54:00.000-06:00

Mandy M. from Orem, Utah!

Congratulations!! Prepare to be dazzled, my friend!!

Delicious Treats and International Blog Candy...

2011-10-20T21:05:00.000-06:00

Behold...

This is Curry Wurst.

A hearty serving of pomme frites and German wurst drizzled with ketchup and sprinkled with Curry seasoning. Sounds a bit suspect, doesn't it? Almost like it can't possibly compute?

Amazingly, it is a harmonious mix of sweet vs. savory and it's oh so good!

As much as I would have loved to pack away some of that ketchupy goodness, I had to settle for something a little more transportable. October's Blog Candy is a collection of surprises I collected in London, Berlin, Chicago and then back to our Jax.

If you want to be included in the drawing, feel free to leave a comment on here or facebook. I'll pick a name randomly one week from tonight.

Awesome versus Awkward: The Vacation Edition

2011-10-19T20:25:00.000-06:00

As many of you know, He-Man and I have spent the last few weeks traveling. First, we spent a few days in London, backpacking through the city. Then, we traveled through the stunning English countryside. From there we flew to Germany, traveling from the southwestern portion to Berlin. After a few days home from Europe, I traveled to Illinois to run the Chicago Urbanathlon with my brother, The Flash.

In a nutshell, it was overwhelmingly awesome mingled with only a few awkward, less than savory moments. With that in mind, and to save you, my illustrious reader, from ridiculously long details, I've decided to sum up the past few weeks in a format introduced to me by me dear friend, Dedra.

May I introduce you to 'Awkward vs. Awesome'...

AWESOME:
*Hearing the 'clunk' of the stamper on my passport at the Immigration and Customs counter in the Gatwick Airport.

*Kissing in public anywhere in England.

*Running on 36 straight hours without sleep. Adrenaline ROCKS!

*Double-decker buses, the Underground and train stations...yay for public transit.

*Everything in Warwick, England BUT especially the Pot & Fin (gluten free fish and chips) and the castle.

*Everything in Stamford especially the REALLY old churches.

*Hiking to the LDS temple in a suburb of London.

*Hitchhiking back to the train station and living to tell the tale.

*Victoria and Albert Museum in London...they may seem really macabre, but I discovered a love for effigies.

*Finding the perfect pair of Ruby Red ballet flats (for grown-up girls!) at a market in Birmingham.

*Sleeping in.

*Romantic, moonlit walk along the Thames.

*He-Man eating Sushi.

*Being called 'Love'...I almost hugged the man!

*The ruins at Baden-Baden Germany

*Anything that ends with the word Wurst.

*Roman Baths and swimming without supervision OR supervising responsibilities.

*Knowing that my parents and in-laws really like each other and enjoy spending time together.

*Eastern Germany...very under-appreciated.

*Berlin

*Mom and Dad's house. It's funny how even if you don't grow up there, it still feels like home.

*Seeing beautiful faces (and a few new ones!) I haven't seen in years!

*Eating like grown-ups with my parents and watching REALLY cheesy-bad movies with them.

*German candy and chocolate. KINDER EGGS!

*Sinking my heavy, jet-lagged head into the fluffiest down pillows ever.

*A cheddar and apple omelet at Lou Mitchell's in Chicago...I would've never put those two things together in eggs beaten into submission, but somehow, it TOTALLY works.

*Ginos East's Gluten Free pizza.

*The entire Chicago Skyline brought to you by Lego.

*Running a male dominated race and seeing the women's cheering section. I felt like a ROCK star!

*My brother placed 2nd in his race division by 12 seconds...WITH A CRACKED RIB! He really IS the rock star!

*2 words: Navy Pier

AWKWARD:
*Stonehenge. Don't get me wrong. It's cool and all, but I kinda think everybody's over-thinking it a bit.

*The FILTHY, skanky adds I accidentally got a full shot of when trying to be clever while in a English phone booth...BLAH!!


Don't worry, peeps. This one is a G-rated phone booth.

*The lady who ate her apple very loudly, with her mouth open staring at me the whole time she ate...it was a bit uncomfortable to say the least. I think 3 feet of space should include a 3 second staring rule too.

*The London Rubbish. Come on people! You are surrounded by some of the most beautiful and historically significant architecture in the world and yet you insist upon making the greater London area your garbage pail.

*My aversion to public nudity...probably ought to avoid the 'Clothing Optional' areas of Europe.

*The conversation that began with "You're a Yank, aren't ya?" and ended with "Would you please explain to my dear Mum (sitting beside him) what a douchebag is."

*The aforementioned conversationalist admitted he gets most of his information about Americans from watching 'Family Guy'. PEOPLE, THIS IS WHAT WE'RE UP AGAINST!

*Platform 9 3/4 at Kings Cross Train Station. It's the English Equivalent of the Great Big Ball of Twine.

*The homeless man who, after I gave him a small donation, totally cussed my brother out for not donating as well. GRRRR...I guess I still can't talk about that one yet. It makes me so MAD!

*My war wounds from the race...okay, they are kinda awesome too...

*The poor, freaked out little mother I tried to help at the airport on my way home from the race. I'm pretty sure she still thinks I was trying to steal her baby. (That's a story for another time because it ended up being a rather humiliating experience.)

And the best part? I'm home again, refreshed, recharged and recommitted to living life in the best way possible!

Tune in Tomorrow for October's Blog Candy Drawing

Memory Monday: Favorite Video From Europe...

2011-10-17T22:00:00.000-06:00

In honor of Memory Monday, this is my favorite video from our recent trip to He-Man's LDS mission when he was 19 years old. It's recalling a memory from when he was in Stamford England for only a few months...

I'm still trying to figure out how to clean up the video since it's a bit fuzzy in parts.

Disregard the spazz screaming in the background (how embarrassing!)
Oh. And the church in the video is actually only about 900 years old..I checked.

Simple Sabbath: Home Again, Home Again Jiggity Jig...

2011-10-16T19:23:00.001-06:00

Home once more!

Over the last couple of weeks, there have been a lot of pictures that have taken my breath away.

Like this accidental beauty taken Friday night on Navy Pier...

Or this one in Stamford...

This one was taken during the clean-up of the annual Reunification Day in Berlin.

And this one...anyone familiar with the history of Germany knows the significance of this picture and what is NOT in it; more particularly, the absence of THE wall.

But of all the pictures taken in the last month, this one seems to make me the happiest.

There is nothing quite like going home.

Ravensbruck Concentration Camp

2011-10-12T06:32:00.000-06:00

First of all, I'd like to dedicate this post to my sweet sister, Jamie, whom I desperately wanted to share the experience with. This essay is for her and many others. Many years ago, she introduced me to the book 'The Hiding Place'. With trepidation I agreed to read it, worried that it would destroy my rose-colored view of the world. It ended up making me see the world a bit more clearly along with the miracles of love and forgiveness God will never leave us without. It taught me that those who perished because of their heritage and religious belief were not so different than me...in fact, the roots of my own religion are shared with the victims and their families.

(In an effort to make the experience more real, I've included some video excerpts of specific areas of the camp. Please forgive me...all I really wanted to do was crumble into a ball and sob and obviously, I much more articulate on paper than I am live.)

My journey to Ravensbruck began in Berlin, Germany. Literally steps from where the Berlin Wall stood for decades lies a Memorial to those who lost their lives during the Jewish Holocaust. It was stark, rigid and inorganic. I was struck by the absence of warmth, serenity of earthy tones or nature's touch. All that was there were cold cement slabs ranging in height, going on and on in front of me. Walking down its path the slabs I stood over were shadowed by taller ones progressing to others that towered over me. They seemed to swallow the observer whole. It was a bit intimidating and frightening. It was reminiscent of when Ebeneezer Scrooge, cornered by the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come, falls into his own grave and faces his own lifeless body.

I got the point.
(And darnit, none of the pics from this presentation turned out.)

Underneath the slabs was a museum, showcasing the lives behind so many beautiful faces: Lovely, pure and innocent faces. The faces of fathers, good and loving men. There were faces of mothers, happy and full of life. Precious faces of children reflected the light that sparkles in every child's eyes. It began with a chronology of the events leading up to the brutality. Near the beginning, a little boy with jet black hair caught my eye. He look mischievous, like every little boy should be. He was a big brother and absolutely adorable.

The next photo I saw was of him and his little sister holding their hands up, guns pointed at them.

The next plague informed the viewer that the previous photo was the last one taken of the two of them.

As I proceeded to the next room, the walk felt so heavy. Each step echoed in the supremely silent place. It took everything to keep the sobs inside from coming out and disturbing others who were paying their respects. Families, just like mine, were showcased here. The faces were happy and healthy. Many of them were well renowned and financially stable. They were posed in pretty clothing or sitting as a family outside their homes. There were handsome young men ready to go out and find an adventure and young women ready to experience their first romance. I saw mothers who proudly stood with their brood of children and fathers who found joy in being 'daddy'.

Each family presentation was followed by a list of what happened to each member of the family. Those who survived were highlighted in orange. There were only a few bios written in orange. It left me wondering: Which of these suffered the greater agony?

With each progressing room, the weight of where I was pressed down upon my soul more and more. Love letters, last words, postcards filled with hope even in the midst of anguish, they filled the rooms. The voices of so many innocent people echoed beyond their graves.

As night approached, it was time to leave. For a girl who grew up surrounded by fairy tales with nothing less than happy endings, where the princess ALWAYS gets kissed, this was a cold, dark reality. It left me searching desperately for happy endings that didn't come.

We continued our journey, deeper into the German countryside. Heading north, signs of the oppression suffered in East Germany were still very evident. There was less industry and progression. Buildings were older and more run down and there was much less improvement to the infrastructure than compared to Western Germany.

We slept soundly in the charming little farmhouse we stopped at. The sweet feeling of resting my head upon a soft, clean pillow was delicious. Yet, as I closed my eyes, I still could see those beautiful faces.

As morning greeted us, we loaded the car and headed further north. The leaves were changing, touched by autumn's chilly warmth. The air was clear and the farmland clean and freshly harvested. As I looked out my window, I saw train tracks. I've seen hundreds of train tracks in my life but these ones took my breath away. They were leading us all the way up to the little town built just beyond Ravensbruck. These were, very likely, the tracks that carried Corrie, Betsie and thousands and thousands to the awful fate that awaited them.

My heart pounded and the lump in my throat returned as we were greeted with this statue.

We parked the car in a spot overlooking a pristine lake. It was clean of any litter...not a shred of trash or refuse. All that was in the water were some twigs and apples that had fallen from the apple trees lining the lake. It's striking to realize that these apples were probably from trees or grown from the seeds of trees that obscured the inhumanity occurring just beyond. Those apples could have fed people who were starving to death only a few feet away from them. As if that weren't heart wrenching enough, the beautiful Schwedtsee Lake conceals a miserable secret. The ashes of thousands upon thousands of men, women and children were deposited there.

Schwedtsee Lake

At the edge of the lake, overlooking a charming little town was a monument. At the foot, were dozens of flowers and candles left by those who came to shed tears for the past inhabitants of Ravensbruck.

We passed the crematorium, a wall of nations and a monument for St. Maria, a nun who traded places with a young woman who was scheduled for the gas chamber. Just beyond lie the old prisoner's jail barracks. Walking in to the upper floor, we were bowled over by the smell of funk and sanitizer. It permeated the building. Later, He-Man told me, that after spending at least four months of his life studying and practicing in cadaver labs, the smell of death, decay and chemical preservation can not be forgotten. Chemicals used for sanitation will never rid the walls and floors of what it absorbed.

The story of this young woman broke my heart. Jewish by heritage but not practicing, she and the love of her life were not allowed to marry because she was a Jew and he was Italian. They chose to 'marry' anyway and start a life together. They had two children before the war. One of the only photos of them as a family is a day at the beach. It seemed like one of those transcendent days where everyone is happy and fancy free. Shortly after the picture was taken, the couple was arrested for interracial marriage (which was illegal). He was sent to an internment camp where he died while she was shuffled to several Concentration Camps. Eventually, her family got a letter informing them of her death but was actually murdered at Ravensbruck a few months later. One of their children survived by being placed in hiding with another family.

The rooms served as individual tributes to victims from each nation represented at the camp. The lower level displayed the holding cells and inhumane treatment those who were 'disciplined' endured. I sat in one of the cells, alone, considering what it must have been like to be in total darkness for three months. The prospect is so very bleak.

I believe this room represented Poland. Notice the photograph of the feet and lower legs on the left. Some of the legs are covered in gangrene.)

An view of the building's two stories from the stairwell.

At this point, perhaps needing to be alone, I left the building to walk along the camp's grounds. Many of the buildings are gone. They were casualties of the next war. Used by the Soviet military for training and testing, most of the foundations aren't even there anymore.

There was a marker indicating the area where Role Call was held. It was a cruel place. It was far enough away from the buildings and hilled camp borders that the biting winter wind would blast the barefoot, naked bodies as they marched to keep the circulation flowing. Sometimes the people were too weak to march and their feet would freeze to the ground.

Role Call

The barracks were not much better. They were drafty, makeshift 'buildings' that would have been condemned had they been in the US.

As I took a turn on the grounds, listening to my own feet on the gravel, I considered others, how their footsteps, bare and broken, tread this sacred ground. Their footsteps left prints that must never, ever be forgotten.

Meeting up with my party we walked further, around a large building used as soldier barracks. To me, it looked like just another way to block out hope of the world beyond. Just a few steps away, a completely different view lay before our eyes. Beautiful, quaint little cottages sat upon the hillside. These living quarters were for the higher-up SS officials and their families so they could be together...it made me want to vomit. Of course the view from their windows showed nothing of the atrocity behind the wall.

Steps up to the cottages for SS officials and their families.

Further on, the soldier barracks were still in good shape. Obviously, it wasn't as though the monstrosity that built this place didn't have the ability or resources to build high quality living quarters for the victims here.

It continues to defy comprehension.

As our tour of the camp concluded, I began to wonder why it was that even with all the sadness and heartbreak there was a sense of peace. Obviously, these are sacred grounds where visitors are hushed with reverence and respect. But how was it that I could leave feeling hopeful?

That hope comes from the lessons we can take from this place and others like it.

*It's knowing that no matter what evil one man and his minions can unleash upon the world, there will always be people who do what's right, regardless of the consequences.

*It's refusing to live in ignorance of the suffering of other people.

*It's recognizing the charmed life we lead is available to us because others paved a path of tears the world won't easily forget. The suffering endured by a people who were different, even in the smallest measure, keeps our eyes wide open to the devastation hate and lack of understanding can create.

*It's choosing to be happy in spite of what life throws at us, understanding that the life we live is beautiful, painful at times, but truly beautiful.

We walked away from Ravensbruck Concentration Camp less than a week ago. I couldn't allow too much time to pass before putting pen to paper in an effort to share my thoughts on the experience. I hope the memory stays fresh in my mind for years and years to come. Because I can't allow myself to forget any of it. I must always remember the Grace in my life and in the life of others. I can never fail to recognize the gifts given to me and I must never forget to appreciate them. Among the richest of blessings the Ravensbruck of today afforded me was something so many who entered these walls were robbed of; the priceless gift of leaving with those I came with.

So, Where Are the Wild Things?

2011-09-20T20:29:00.000-06:00

After Ruby finished her bath, she toddled toward me with her binky, blanket and the book I've read to her 3 nights in a row, "Where the Wild Things Are". I'm surprised she hasn't gotten sick of it yet. She loves it, and well, I'm a bit taken aback by the irony. In the past few weeks, before her second birthday, she has become the quintessential Wild Thing.

She's the wiggling behind my bedroom curtain where she scrambles when she hears my footsteps approaching the mess of superfine nail glitter and mani/pedi stickers... adorning an area on my bedroom floor not unlike the shape of South America.

She's the reminder that head wounds bleed like a screaming, bloody banshee. (Here's hoping she doesn't launch herself toward our brick fireplace again)

When I open a tube of flavored liquid lipgloss (with it's just-right amount of shimmer and pinkness)...only to find the tinted sparkle has been replaced with a thick, slimy, no longer tinted substance, I know she's sucked the life out of it like the brazen lipgloss vampire she is.

She's the maniacal laughing coming from the bathtub where she's discovered she can make her own noisy bubbles.

And Yet...

She's the little arms that hold me in a death grip when thunder and lightening rattle over head.

She's the growling, imitation lion voice saying, "I loooovvve you, Moooommmy!"

And even as I'm nursing the bump on my forehead from being clocked with Barbie furniture, she's the sincerely apologetic hug with the whisper, "I sorry, Momma."

So Where Are the Wild Things?

I've got one soundly asleep upstairs.

Memory Monday: MORE Abject Humilation...

2011-09-19T20:36:00.000-06:00

The following picture was unearthed by my sweet husband. It's from Junior Prom, many, many moons ago. Never mind the ENORMOUS puffed sleeves on my red dress. They say the camera adds ten pounds...I wonder just how many unfortunately placed material adds. Let's not even discuss the metallic nature of said evening wear. (Truth be told, I really, really loved this dress).

BEHOLD:

There is a much bigger issue here. Considering that each subject was strategically placed with his/her date, notice where my husband and I are as well as his brother and his future wife. Yep, He-Man attended the prom with the girl in white who would go on to marry his brother. Of course He-Man and I permanently hooked-up about 12 years ago. Hmmmm. Interesting.

Today I realized that a picture really can be worth 1,000 words. And what does it say? Well to me, it could be a very effective ad for the National Abstinence Campaign. The caption would probably say something like this:

SEX before marriage? Bad idea. You never know who your brother-in-law might be.

DISCLAIMER: For all of those who know and therefore adore He-Man and our brilliant, illustrious sister-in-law it's obvious. To everyone else, I must clarify that their dating relationship was completely platonic. We're very blessed by the friendship those two have as well as the fact that nothing in their past conduct has ever made family reunions awkward.

A Thin Line Between Loathing and Loving...(And the results from my blog drawing)

2011-09-15T21:27:00.001-06:00

A thin line being about 25 years...

Was there a movie, television show, music that you absolutely HATED as a child but now as an adult have a healthy appreciation for?

For me, that's an easy one. As a kid I loathed M.A.S.H....hated it passionately. Whenever the first chords of 'Suicide is Painless' came on over the television speakers my parents would tune in and I would run the other way.

Seriously. Could. NOT. Stand. It!

I really had no idea what frisky meant at the time, but I'm pretty sure Hawkeye was just that. Frank Burns gave me the Willies and Hoolihan's hair needed to be more like Farrah Fawcett's. It was dreadfully boring and all about war. How depressing.

HOWEVER, Just like Star Trek, Stargate (and any other t.v. series with the word 'Star' in it) I was unable to purge that influence upon matrimony so I've had to suffer (patiently) through re-run after re-run.

Tonight, I realized something. I can never be sure when the change occurred but somehow, it has.
In my opinion M.A.S.H. was one of the most brilliant shows in the history of American television.

Hawkeye is one of the most lovable yet tortured protagonists I've ever seen. Plus, if I ever ran into Alan Alda, I'd give him a big hug and then discuss his need to change his stance on chiropractic care. Then, of course I'd hug him again.

Major Burns is STILL slimy.

Hoolihan's hair isn't so bad.

And thanks to He-man's willingness to demonstrate, I understand perfectly what 'frisky' means.

We unwound from a CRAZY day today with a classic episode and laughed the entire way through. Which makes me wonder...

What was your Loathing to Loving Thing? Or Loving to Loathing Thing?

He-Man, his loin cloth and leopard, tiger, mangy feline...whatever it was?

Patrick Stewart as Picard in all of his under-appreciated awesomeness?

Teddy Rupskin? (If ever there was a doll that would come alive and kill you while you're sleeping...)

In other news, here are the winners of my September Blog Candy...Congratulations! I'm so excited to share my story with you and get your feedback. I'll be contacting you soon for mailing details...

1. Lindsay Bourque-Duffy

2. Kelley Drury Birrell

3. Abby Boatright Hanson

Memory Monday: Never Forgetting...

2011-09-12T20:20:00.002-06:00

I awoke that morning, sleep deprived as usual. Our baby was hungry and ready to eat. It was a little later than I had planned considering I had to go into work to train my replacement at the Co-Op where I taught. I was slow and a bit bleary eyed. Taking my time, I fed my baby, got dressed and prepared for my day.

The phone rang. It was my boss. He told me not to come in. I was a bit confused until he told me to turn my television on. He stayed on with me for a moment while I did. As I expressed a desperate need to contact my family, he repeated his original suggestion. Stay home, call your family. They were all over the world but none of them anywhere near New York. That didn't lessen my desperation to hear their voices.

At first, I couldn't talk to my parents. They were in Japan with my baby brothers. Hearing my grandmother's voice, who lived a half an hour away, gave me a center. I carried on with my desperate mission. One by one, I spoke with my brothers, my sister-in-law and finally my parents...all while watching the chaos unfolding.

At some point during the morning of September 11th it dawned on me: At the very least, my little brother would be going to war. At the most, my husband who'd always expressed a desire to serve in the military would be joining him. I didn't know what any of it meant at the time but it seemed pretty obvious. For a time I was angry, furious that I couldn't have been with my family. I felt alone, scared and heartbroken that the baby we just brought into this world would be raised in a vastly different place than I had and I couldn't even connect with my family.

Remembering my sister-in-law a few doors down didn't have a t.v., I knew she needed to know what was happening. I invited her to our basement apartment. We watched together, mostly in silence. It had been a really hard year for us. We'd grown up being good friends. I loved her from the moment I met her. But in the recent years we married brothers, had babies and for some reason, as I became a member of the family, I became closed off, resentful and territorial toward her and several others of my husband's clan. I had damaged our friendship and sisterhood and felt a bit alien from most of them in general.

Looking back at that day, watching New York and the rest of humanity suffer devastating loss, those hurts and resentments didn't seem to matter as much. My complaints seemed trite and self centered. There were families who treasured each other ripped apart that day; lives ended, goodbyes never uttered. Yet I wasted so much precious time squandering opportunities to know my new brothers and sisters.

I suspect there were a lot of others out there like me: indirectly affected yet nonetheless devastated. I wonder if they, too, had a family around them they refused to see. Had they fallen into that dangerous rut people sometimes fall into after a couple of years of marriage? Did they have a spouse they didn't appreciate as much as they could have because they, themselves, were too self-absorbed?

It was devastating to know that there was VERY little I could do for the people directly affected by the terrorist attacks. All I could do was pray for them.

And then there was another epiphany.

There were others who needed help and comfort. Assistance would be subtle, on a much smaller scale but nevertheless needed. It was that day that I began to open my eyes to see the family I refused to see for way to long. They were hurting from the events of that day and needed comfort too. They needed the kind of support I could give. And I had a responsibility to give it.

That day confirmed what I already thought I knew. Life is precious and beautiful. Others, especially our family, are always in need of our prayers and service. With a heart full of love for others we can heal the wounds of hatred and malice. That is a lesson I don't plan on ever forgetting.

Ravensbruck

2011-09-09T19:45:00.002-06:00

For those who know what Ravensbruck is, you know it needs no introduction. For those who don't, it was a German Concentration Camp during the Holocaust and World War II. It 'housed' thousands upon thousands of people, primarily women. Many of those women, as well as thousands of children and men, were murdered there.

The Radiant Corrie Ten Boom

Two of its inhabitants were sisters, Corrie and Betsie Ten Boom. They were there because they, being true Christians, bravely chose to hide Jews in their home above a clock shop in the city of Haarlem, Holland. They were betrayed, arrested and eventually transported to this place, intended to silence them forever. Corrie's book 'The Hiding Place' can change your life. In fact, of all the books you could read during your lifetime, this should be one of them.

Growing up in my beautiful world of sparkles and sunshine, I heard stories of Concentration Camps. My father, a WWII buff, often read books and watched movies about these places and other significant WWII events. War torn Germany was so far away from my happy, protected life but I was always drawn to these stories. My heart often hurt for those who needlessly suffered. Their lives and families were torn apart because one man's venomous hatred poisoned a nation.

From childhood, I've felt compelled by the voice within me to make a pilgrimage to one of these places. I've often felt self-conscious about this. I'm a happy go-lucky kind of gal. Why would I ever put myself through that? Why would I want to go to a place that would remind me of women, mothers just like me who had to watch their children as they were butchered or starved to death; who were violently ripped from their husbands, their best friends, never to see them in this life again?

More than once, people have said to me, "Trishelle, why would YOU want to go somewhere like that?" It was usually followed by, "I really don't think you could handle such a place."

I'm not really sure what those people meant by that. The simple truth is that it's not about me. Even with those voices of dissent, I've felt an ever growing need to pay respects to the Jews, the Gypsies, the Resistance Fighters, ALL the people who lost their lives during the Holocaust. To live a life refusing to see that evil and hatred could accomplish such a nightmare would be to deny their suffering, even more importantly, their lives. Perhaps I happen to be one of those people who would be better able to honor and reverence those who died by visiting their resting places.

About a year ago, He-Man and I were talking about a hypothetical visit to his LDS mission in Great Britain and then visiting both our parents in Germany. I seriously doubted being able to swing it, especially without our children....who I haven't been so keen on leaving behind (the very thought leaves me imagining worst case scenarios involving toothpaste, small choke-able items and pointy objects.) I figured, as much as I wanted to go, I couldn't see how it could happened but prayed often for the Lord to provide a way.

In the past few months He has done just that. He-Man and I will be traveling to England in the coming weeks and then going on to Germany where we will be visiting Ravensbruck. Even as I type this, my fingers tremble. I'm scared and anxious. I know, in my life, I must take the opportunity to do this. I can not allow my fear and hesitation to enable myself to be ignorant of another's suffering. I will be a part of the unity that transcends culture and religion to connect with others of God's children and honor their existence.

In the Hindu culture and often heard in the practice of yoga, there is a word, 'Namaste'. Its simple, universal truth creates a bond between the giver and the receiver. It means 'the spirit within me honors the spirit within you'. I believe such a bond transcends death and can give all who embrace it hope...even in the midst of such depravity.

I will return and report.

Namaste.

Awkward Confessions of a Not-So-Reformed Dork

2011-09-07T19:46:00.001-06:00

It's bound to happen from time to time. As a writer, I've committed to, well, write....but some days, I draw a blank. I've learned not to force it since inspiration is sure to be just around the corner.

All day I've drawn a blank. Then, tonight as I settled in to sitting with my laptop and my banana split dinner, I stumbled upon the very inspiration I needed.

I read something so horrible, so egregious, it had me spewing a mixture of spit and banana split at my poor, innocent laptop. It was only the messenger and I just about killed it. (I ought to have taken my anger out on my upstairs flower boxes filled with weeds.)

Rolling Stone has just released its 'Worst 10 Songs of the 90s.'

Great. Light, easy read right? WRONG! It had me remembering a simpler time when ignorance of my own 'inner' geek was really obvious to everyone else. It made me cringe and cry out in shame. Here's the notables...

First one: 'Barbie Girl' by Aqua. Okay, okay. Yeah, that one was really bad. I accepted this when it came out. Although, it was only shortly before it became a hit that I admitted such an aspiration to live in a pink house adorned with quilted picture frames, taffeta drapery and a fluffy white poodle was not conducive to marrying a man.

The second one had me spitting nails and...hanging my head in shame. 'The Macarena'. No argument there. No self respecting adult would ever admit now to still being able to do that one in their sleep. (Come on, you know you can.) That's not what had me so agitated. It was the fact that the very mention of this song thrust me back in time. It was 1996. I went home to attend my high school's prom with my friend. I had graduated a year before and thought that made me exempt from being a total moron. Well...I probably should've rethought that one.

There I was, on the floor spazzing out like a crazy fool. Unfortunately, due to reinventing 'the freshmen fifteen' to make it more the 'the freshman twenty' my dress that previously fit my hourglass figure perfectly was about 2 sizes too tight. My date wasn't so keen on making a fool of himself. He was much more dignified. Then it happened. 'The Macarena' came on. It was still so new yet somehow, being all collegy and in-the-know, I knew the dance. I got on the floor, surrounded by observers and proceeded to dance the routine with perfection. I don't know who I feel worse for...me, or the poor saps who followed along...many of them friends who probably felt a little awkward for me being the only one dancing.

Oh the pain! The horrible, shameful agony!

Given that it was revealed to be a song about a cheap prostitute, it was immediately precluded from the song list at all the LDS Institute dances forever more...thankfully saving me from further self-inflicted humiliation.

Third: 'Ice Ice Baby': No comment other than expressing my appreciation to that song for teaching me 'The Running Man"...then my indignation over not being able to get that stupid song out of my head.

Fourth: 'Achy Breaky Heart'...That song was illegal in my hometown anyway.

Fifth: 'Tubthumping'. Don't even go there, RS. I listened to that song 4 times (make that 5 times) while typing this post...and I'm not that ashamed of myself. Though, yes, I will admit it was probably written while the band was totally and completely liquored up.

Sixth: 'MmmmmBop': Squeaky clean family bands are so underrated. Seriously. Turn it on, crank it up and roll down the windows. It has the power to make you happy. What's so cheesy about that? Obviously not written while on a bender...perhaps on a serious kool-aid and pixie stix sugar high but that one came from someone completely sober...otherwise I'm pretty sure their parents would have been incarcerated.

Seventh: 'My Heart Will Go On': Still getting over a mortal fear of sailing across the Atlantic Ocean over that one. The only problem with that song was it was over-played TO DEATH and then put on a defibrillator and revived only to be played to death again. This process was repeated 3,456,208 times.

Eighth: It should have been #1. 'Who Let the Dogs Out?' Unfortunately, no one will ever know the answer to this cosmic question. However, please spay and/or neuter your dog so next time the trauma to society won't be so devastating.

Ninth: 'I'm too Sexy' I was still too young to know what 'sexy' meant to appreciate that song. I will say this though, based solely on the clothes the singers were wearing while chortling out the lines of that song, I'm not sure I wanted to be.

Tenth: 'What's Up?' I HATED THIS SONG WITH THE PASSION OF 1,000 nuclear blasts. Hated it! Although, there was a part of my squeaky clean self that really wanted to wear my hair in micro braids and pierce my nose with a chain that connected to my earring. I was pretty sure my mother would've frowned upon that one so I stuck with piercing the top of my ear with an ice cube and a sewing knitting. Somehow, it just wasn't as cool.

Thank you, Rolling Stone for the inspiration and emotional walk down memory lane. I commend you for illustrating good taste in some of your choices. For the others and reminding me of the origins of my dorkiness, blow it out your ear!

Back in a Big Way...

2011-09-06T19:53:00.001-06:00

Hello All!

For those of you who read my post yesterday, this is not news. To everyone else...Heya! It's good to see you. Oh how I've missed blogging. As you may recall, I took the month of August off to focus my efforts on a manuscript that wasn't writing itself. (How dare it, right?!) I learned several things in the past month...

1. I was NO WHERE near as close to finishing as I thought I was. I can't even begin to describe the discouragement of realizing just how little I had accomplished in the past year of working on this project. BUT slowly, as I worked, I began to see how much I could accomplish with consistent effort.

2. It's almost cliched but only because it's so true: Nothing is worth accomplishing unless it takes real effort. So often in the past month I would just wish getting it done would be easier...then I was reminded that if it was, I'd be missing the point.

3. I have an amazingly patient husband. Nuf said.

4. AND after a month of hard work; in between organizing a new ward's Primary, preparing for a new school year, training for a fairly difficult sports event and juggling all my other hats, I really can see the completion of this project.

Which brings me to my previously promised September drawing. Anyone interested in reading a sample of my story? It will be very similar if not the same as the query He-Man and I will be preparing for independent publishers. Of course, it'll be accompanied by some other sort of loveliness. I'm so excited to share this with those who want to pick a piece of my brain...however odd and twisted it may be.

So, drop me a line either on here or on Facebook. I'll draw a name or two, or three, one week from tonight.

Thank you all for making this possible. I'm not sure I would have even had the encouragement to do this had no one expressed an interest in what I had to say. You're all the peachiest of peaches!

Love,

Trishy

Sooo glad a vast majority of people don't have walleyed vision. Otherwise I would be going around like this every time I tried to smile without my teeth.

I like this one much better...teeth or not.

Memory Monday: Mommy Daughter Date With LuLu

2011-09-05T20:48:00.002-06:00

Two weeks ago Lulu began VPK which is the Florida equivalent of preschool. Her hair was pulled up in a braided ponytail per her request. Her uniform t-shirt smelled strongly of the school logo's embossing and her brand new, pink and green L.L. Bean backpack looked as though if it were left unzipped it might just swallow her up.

I was a bit surprised by how emotional I was. After all, I had already done this twice...I should be a pro by now. Maybe it was because she seemed so young. And, well, that's because she is. Sunshine and Bunny both began school a year later. However, this is a GREAT opportunity for her (and for her older sisters who are currently home schooled).

Young enough to still enjoy restaurant play places without worrying about the vast possibilities for contracting communicable illnesses.

We walk to the private Catholic school right around the corner. We talk, we laugh and sometimes we race. If we're lucky, we get to hear the church bells chime. The other day, while walking home after dropping her off, I heard "All Things Bright and Beautiful". As I walked through our neighborhood, under trees dripping with Spanish Moss and butterflies fluttering about, I found it quite inspiring. And then a swarm of approximately 1,367 mosquitoes swarmed around me, looking for a snack. No way do those nasty little vampires fall under the category of bright or beautiful.

Today I took Lulu on a date because I'm getting the sense that while she really enjoys her 3 hour preschool class, the time away from her family has been a little hard on her. Perhaps some one on one Mom Time would do the trick. We went shoe shopping and talked. We laughed at how funny singing a song using only one particular vowel was and reviewed our most favorite thing. (She still loves homemade macaroni and cheese, olives and OPI Pompeii Purple nail polish).

Old enough to savor the taste of ice cream

As we noshed on our french fries and she dipped them in her ice cream, I couldn't help but notice that she's still so little but changing fast. She's learning new things and meeting new exciting people. She's almost ready to read but could really use an afternoon nap. Yet I found myself reminiscent of when we discovered her pending arrival into our family. He-Man wasn't even in the state when he proved his mad skills of procreation and I discovered I was pregnant with the baby we were waiting until after grad school to have. I'm so glad she came when she did!

Young enough to ask "Can I eat the holder?"

I also realized something else. Since we are absolutely not done contributing to the Scottish/Portuguese/German Mutt population of the world, she is destined to be smack dab in the middle of our children. Obviously, we'll need to keep an awareness about this dynamic. Yet, she can hold her own and make her feelings known in an articulate way and is definitely a force to be reckoned with.

So my Memory Monday for this September 5th has been devoted to the little girl who, when her older sisters shrink in horror at a nasty eight legged freak, she pummels it with a glittery handbag...the girl who biffs it on the sidewalk and instead of crying as the blood oozes out of her knees, stands up, dusts herself off and takes off running in the direction she was heading in the first place. She's the girl who will get in your face and tell you what's what at a volume and pitch that can make stray dogs howl but then will softly take your face in her stinky, dirty hands and with sweet, sparkly eyes exclaim just how much she loves you...and believe me, it's A LOT.


Old enough to appreciate exquisite ballroom attire	yet young enough turn in early.

This memory isn't so much recalling one that has already happened but rather one I hope I never, ever forget.

Just You Wait!!

2011-08-08T19:29:00.006-06:00

Ultimately, I've taken an unintentional summer break from blogging. It's not that I haven't been writing. I have...just not on here. As many of you know I've been researching and writing my first novel. It's a historical fiction AND if I hunker down and write faithfully, I think I can finish by September 1. If I stay within that time frame, I'm hoping to be well on my way to having a completed, edited piece ready for self publication...or with a publisher. Whichever comes first.

Of course this means I'm waaaay behind on my monthly blog candy drawings (which I love to do). I miss it because it means I'm not connecting with all of you lovelies who happen to live all over the place. Blogging does this for me. Which is why I'll be back. AND while my promise to let one of my readers get a sneak peek of my work is a little late, it will be worth the wait.

So...this means I'm signing off (officially) of blogging and Facebook until September 1. At which time, I'll unveil my work and hold a blog candy drawing. Also coming in September is a super sweet INTERNATIONAL blog candy surprise. I promise it will be good.

In the meantime, here's a little glimpse of the destruction we've experienced during the beginnings of Florida Hurricane Season. We'll call this storm 'Bruiser', affectionately named by a very articulate friend. Bruiser is the nearly two-year old tropical storm formerly known as Ruby.

Behold
She was quiet for way too long. After several hours of searching and reattaching, we were able to locate every key except one. The colon/semi-colon key...I'd type it but it doesn't work.

He-Man still isn't laughing yet.

After the kids went to bed we, once again, got on our hands and knees and scoured our bedroom for the missing colon. Inevitably, the conversation quickly deteriorated as we started making sick jokes about our missing colon. We sounded like two eighth graders making dorky jokes about human anatomy.

Here's the worst of 'em

Meet Stew (sick, I know. I felt so clever coming up with that one). He's the neutered Anatomy model we use for school. (well, mostly neutered. He has an Adam's Apple)

Stew's got a colon. I think we'll borrow his...

Happy August, everyone! I'll see you on the 1st!

Simple Sabbath: Accepting the Need to Mourn

2011-07-24T20:24:00.004-06:00

I've had writers block for a month now. I'm sure other writers have experienced that awkward and frustrating time when they have plenty in their writer's queue but can't quite get into the groove. I've been trying to work on my project, prepare a lecture for 700 youth and continue my beloved blog.

But as I've tried to work on these, I've felt distracted and fractured. I couldn't figure it out. Then, while running one day, clarity filled my mind.

My grandfather died a month ago.

I've realized I haven't honored that need to mourn the loss of that great man, to allow myself to grieve in the best way I know how and that is to write. How could I possibly expect to let myself continue on with my writing without expressing my heart filled love for him and ache for the people who will miss him the very most?

It was the clear, beautiful morning after we arrived in Utah. I was running on my favorite route. To the east, the majesty of the Timpanogos Mountains and to the west, a very full Utah Lake. The crisp, high-mountain air was a refreshing change to the smell of wildfires that surrounded our home as we left for the airport. I felt so at ease...and like I was 'home'.

My phone rang. On the other end was my brother, telling me that my grandfather was very ill; So ill, in fact, that my parents were preparing to fly from their home in Germany to come to Utah, asap.

My heart sank. We all knew he was sick. It's weird how the knowledge that something like this is coming often changes nothing...is there really a way to sufficiently prepare?

During my race, I thought about him a lot. I thought about my grandma, my aunts, uncles and father. I desperately wondered how they were doing. I wanted to be with my daddy. I just wanted him to know how much I love him. I worried about how he was feeling, preparing for what was about to happen.

After a day and half of racing, I was running down a mountain in the last leg of my race. The sun was just peaking up over the mountains and I was running all alone. I wasn't passing anyone and no one was running past me. Yet, suddenly, I was flooded by the strongest impression that I wasn't alone. It was so tangible, I could feel it. In moment, I clearly understood that it was my grandpa. He was with me for just a minute, long enough for me to know he was there and most importantly, that he loved me. It was so strong and so sweet that it made me want to never, ever forget and to do everything possible to deserve such a love. Then I was alone again, left to ponder that moment that changed me.

On Father's Day I walked into my his room. His eyes were vacant and he was gaunt, his rattled breathing was labored. I was struck by a peaceful calm that enveloped the room...nothing like I would have expected, considering how little I've experienced death. So often, in our society we hear of death on the news, in the paper, in movies. Most of the time, it's loud, confusing and frightening. This was so different. Ruby, her little 18 month old self, even seemed to know how sacred this room was. As she sat there with me, she folded her arms and whispered as she talked.

The next day, as I gathered my things to pick my parents up from the airport, my sweet aunt called me. Grandfather had passed away. Again, nothing quite prepares a person for that moment.

A while later, as I searched for the familiar faces of my mom and dad in the crowd of the airport, I finally saw him. Dad, waiting by the curb with his comforting smile. It faded a moment, when I told him his father had passed away. I will never forget the look on my daddy's face.

That night was surreal to me. I brought my parents to my father's childhood home. They were there to say goodbye to my grandfather. His body hadn't been removed yet and the brothers and sisters gathered with my beautiful grandmother to offer comfort to each other.

For a time, we sat and talked and laughed about the memories and things he taught us. Then, it came time for the funeral home to take my grandfather's body. I've always really liked my aunts and uncles. They've always meant a lot to me. But that night, they changed in my eyes. Even in my admiration of who they are, I've underestimated their characters. To me, they are heroes.

That night, as the men from the funeral home carried my grandpa's body down the stairs, my Uncle Matt helped carry him. There's something so profoundly beautiful about that memory that will stay in my mind forever.

As my beloved grandmother wept, she was surrounded by my mom and my aunts so she wouldn't cry alone.

The siblings gathered around her earlier that night, praying with her and blessing her with comfort.

My fearlessly loyal aunt sat quietly with my grandpa and so tenderly stroked his head and held his hand.

As the funeral proceeded, I learned remarkable things about my grandfather and who he was. I had no idea of all he did for his family, for his country and for his God. I never realized how curly is hair was and how dashing he looked in his suit.

During all of this, I suddenly remembered things I hadn't thought of for years, like how he sat down and sobbed in the Harrisburg, Pennsylvania Airport waiting to go home to Utah after his visit. I realized, even as a small child, that he loved us so much that day.

I remember how he'd pay me a nickel for every squished apricot that was on the ground, under the tree; how much he loved my husband and when he heard we were on a poor, starving college student budget, insisted on paying him for doing jobs around the house when we visited.

The afternoon before we boarded a plane for out trip home, I did something I hadn't done in years. I found a spot, in the lush green of that secret garden backyard, and laid there, looking up at the beautiful blue Utah sky. I thought about everything that blessed man has given me...

He gave me a sense of what 'home base' is. It's where we gather for Christmas. It's the safe place in the sea of my first scary year of college.

He taught me industry and finding joy in service.

He gave me KK and the rest of the greatest aunts and uncles ever.

He blessed me with an aunt, only 8 months older than myself to idolize who was an automatic friend and playmate...nice for a little girl with 4 brothers.

He gave me the two greatest grandmothers in the whole wide world.

He gave me my strong, pioneer constitution.

He gave me my Daddy, who has given me so much of who I am and who I have the potential to become. For that, I have an eternity of gratitude.

WB Ragnar: Love and Loathing in the Backroads of Northern Utah

2011-06-27T20:51:00.013-06:00

We're Back Ya'll!

Word to your Motha! We all survived the Wasatch Back Ragnar...mostly intact.

I've been trying to come up with some clever way to discuss our experience but not much is coming so here comes the play-by-play...

Thursday, June 16th
3:30 pm- Dropped off our children at the home of 'The World's Best Babysitter'.
Felt very nervous...Would #4 decide to make lunch out of any number of toxic substances found in the average American home? (Silent pleading that one child in particular doesn't request to munch on anyone's toe nail clippings).

4:00 pm-Game face on! Greetings to fellow runners which includes 1 high school friend, a beloved pal from Oregon and a recently returned LDS missionary from our ward in Jax.

(Introducing: ProZack!)

6:00 pm-GREAT grub @ the Vanderbeeks...carbo loading-even for the gluten intolerant.

10:30 pm-Must get some sleep before 4:15 Ragnar check-in...Doh! I forgot pajamas.
Moral dilemma: Sleep in underwear or jeans?
(In case of a necessary home evacuation, underwear may be a little awkward.)

Friday, June 17th
3:45 am: Rise and Shine, Suckers! (Phew! No house fire!)

4:15 am: I'm regretting my decision to pack my running skirt for the race. My cute little Florida legs turn into Utah Popsicles in the <40 degree weather. That high mountain breeze/windchill is no longer refreshing.

5:15 am: Our first runner, ProZack is off and literally running.

6:30ish am: Off goes Reg, aka 'The Flame'!

(This is Reg and me during Van #1's first leg...Isn't she beautiful?!)

8:45 am: I find myself in the runner's queue. Here comes He-Man's kid sister aka 'Bulldozer'. Watching her running up, I see an incredibly strong and beautiful woman in the little girl I befriended as a teenager. Good grief, we're old!

8:46 am: I'm off! I start my 5.1 mile leg strong and feeling great!

9:16ish am: Still feeling awesome. The elevation isn't much of a problem and I'm totally digging the cheers and encouragement from other team vehicles.

9:20 am: I get hit on by a really nice (unmarried) guy in a black suburban. These WB Ragnar people really know how to pump people up!

9:30 am: Nearing the end of my run...starting to feel the fatigue. Behind me, I hear an unmistakable 'Mooooooo!'

How rude!

That poor runner whose nasty teammates think that sort of thing is funny!

Again, with the 'Mooooo!' This one is followed by others joining the fun, sounding like a stupid chorus of idiots.

Too focused to look back, I start to believe that maybe their mooing at me! DISGUSTING! What did I ever do to them?!

I plod on, determined to ignore them...noticing the sound of them coming closer and closer.

I wrack my brain to come up with some kind of hand gesture, not too vulgar, to express my distaste for their rudeness.

Finally, they are upon me. It's time to turn and look the hecklers in the eye.

It is here, that I'm running on the dirt road right next to a cattle cart filled with cows. Mouths gaping, their snouts smooshed and sticking out of the cart's grate holes for fresh air.

As a parting gift, they leave a cloud of poopy stink for us runners, breathing through our mouths no less, with something to remember them by.

9:35ish am: 1 down! 2 to go! Where's the nearest Porta-Potty?!

10:30 am: Jolene, aka 'The Pheonix" seriously rips up the race with a sub 9 minute mile average on her 7 mile leg!

11:40 am: He-Man starts his first 8 mile leg. Here's where we get to see if his late night bowls of ice cream and 2-3 mile training runs are going to give him the edge.

12:50 pm: Van 1 is done with its first legs!

1:30 pm: Arrive at a ski-resort. Take off my shoes and put on my flip-flops. Breathe in the crisp mountain air and begin to defrost.

Spend the next 4 hours trying to look busy...
took a 15 minute nap
ate a cold microwave dinner
slept for 10 minutes to fight the boredom
signed up for a free 10 minute massage
put on my makeup
wandered aimlessly
slept for a couple of minutes
tried to shield the eyes of our recently returned missionary from nasty double entendres

5:30 pm: Van 1 starts again.

7:30 pm: Ready to start my run...but unable to find my phone/Ipod...forgot I stuffed it in my shirt; obviously losing some coherency.

8:10 pm: finishing my race...feeling a bit of fatigue.

9:00ish pm: He-Man begins his 2nd leg. It's brutal! And keeps going and going and going, up and down as it quickly ascends a mountain. By mile 4 I'm ready to cry. Obviously, so is he. For moral support, we crank up 'Defying Gravity' and I hang out of the sunroof for encouragement.

10:15ish pm: He-Man hobbles off the finish line, bloody from chafing.

11:30 pm: We pull into some high school moonlighting as sleeping quarters.
Must sleep...
(Again moral dilemma: jeans or underwear)

11:45 pm: still awake. Everyone around me drifting off to sleep

Saturday, June 18th
12:00 am: WIDE awake next to 5 people I know well and about 200 other people I don't know from Adam...yet, I know them intimately enough to know that some of them snore.

12:15 am: I GIVE UP! I stand in line to brush the fur off my teeth and wash my face. $3 to take a shower?! I wonder if it's appropriate to give myself a spit-bath in the public bathroom.

12:30 am: Back in the gymnasium, surrounded by dozens of angelically sleeping runners...plus a guy I'm pretty sure is buck naked and sitting-up 2 feet away from a sleeping He-Man.

1:00 am: GRRRR! Sleeping is so dumb! The smell of sizzling $5 bacon, eggs and pancakes in the school cafeteria is even dumber! I HATE PILLOWS! and beds and fluffy sleeping bags...anything that teases me with a false sense of comfort and sleepiness.

1:30 am: Laying back down on a hard floor with a rolled up pair of jeans beneath my head, ready to punch...

2:30 am: What?! Where am I?! Hey! Where did Naked Guy go? Is it time to run already?

4:00: Runner #1 is off again! I don't remember much...just how uncomfortable my jeans are.

5:00: See ya soon, Runner #2!

6:15 Runner #3 is off and running her hardest leg. Whoa! That car just rear-ended the one in front of it!

8:00 am: Somewhere, right outside of Heber, I'm revving up to run down a mountain.

8:10 am: Ready to FLY!
Down, down, down I go!
Almost done!
Down some more!
Hitting the hillside with a whimper but pulling through...Almost there...
He-Man's at the end...
Almost there...
and
I did it!!

(This is me trying to look 'fierce' during my start-up...obviously NOT pulling it off. This is, in fact, more proof that I'm really not that photogenic.)

Here you go, Runner #5!

10:15 am: He-Man's done too!

We've officially rocked the Wasatch Back Ragnar!

Now where's the food?!

11:00 am: Party at Park City High School...Yeah Baby!
But...I just wanna go home. I'm too tired to eat.

2:00 pm: Home Again, Home Again Jiggity-Jig

3:00 pm: Zombiefied but too tired to sleep...Must find some new pajamas

4:00 pm: Yikes! A Van #2 runner collapses! I am now babysitting some of the kids until the last group comes in....

6:00 pm: Van #2 arrives.

6:15 pm: Must. Find. Pajamas...

7:00 pm: Victoria's Secret...I wonder how comfy lingerie is to sleep in...Behold! Clouds part and I see them! Comfy 2 piece cotton jammies: size M...50% off...great! I'll take 'em. May I please put them on in the store?

Apparently that's against store policy.

8:00 pm: Slowly make my way out of the Mall...so tired...must sleep...

8:15 pm: Awwww! Clean cotton jammies feel so good! Reclining position on a soft bed and pillows...even better!

8:16 pm. ZZZZzzzz and gentle snoring.

Memory Monday: A Shout -Out to Dugway...

2011-06-06T19:07:00.008-06:00

The month of June takes us back to Utah where He-Man and I'll be running until we puke in the Wasatch Back. It also brings me the opportunity to reconnect with old friends...Friends that have known me longer than just about anyone. Friends who, while our lives have taken us every which way imaginable, will always be so dear to me.

It doesn't matter what happens, I will love 'em all forever. We are bonded together with a mixed-up cocktail of carbon atoms fused together with some kind of funky anthraxed radioactive sodium. Recently, during my mother's health scare, a friend, upon hearing the news, said something quite profound: Those of us from Dugway have a special connection. We folks need to stick together. I found her words so comforting and so true. However life changes for us, for better or for worse, we have one important thing in common...

We grew up in the middle of the Utah dessert under the umbrella of the No-Fly Or-We'll Shoot-You-Into-Smithereens Zone.

(This is a picture taken outside of my parent's home. Notice the antelope grazing in the park)

It's that blacked-out portion in central to upper western Utah known as Dugway Proving Grounds. It absolutely amazes me how many people actually know where it is...although, not so many people have actually ever been there. Occasionally, I'll meet someone whose second cousin's ex-husband's best friend had a father born there in the 50's or something.

It's here, where like many, I found myself. Naturally, as I look forward to seeing some of those amazing people I loved so much as a kid, I'm finding myself remembering Dugway. In honor of Memory Monday, I've decided to compile a list of lessons I learned from my old hometown. (Note: These are in no particular order of importance)

1. In spite of the massive amounts of bio-chemical testing conducted within the razor-wired, electrical fenced walls of the secret facilities, a surprisingly few of us walked around with extra appendages and/or oozed radioactive sludge.

Pro: This gives me a GREAT conversation starter when explaining where I'm from. It makes me feel cheeky when I tell people I glow in the dark and then, in reply, they heartily laugh. In fact, my new neighbor who's worked near there in the past, chuckled for a couple of minutes over that one. I spent the rest of the day feeling brilliantly funny.

Con: I glow in the dark and occasionally ooze radioactive sludge. Needless to say, I REALLY stink at the game of Hide-And-Seek.

2. Since Dugway is a mix of out-in-the-country/pent up military personnel sequestered off from the world of high couture, it's about a decade behind when it comes to trends and high fashion clothing.

Pro: Fashion Victims (such as myself) could grow up relatively unscathed...even if we insisted upon ratting our ridiculously long bangs and pegging our jeans 2 years waaaaay too long.

Con: Anyone who had the fashion sense of a horse and dressed in anything other than overalls (with one strap unbuckled) ran the risk of being pelted with hundreds of pairs of Girbaud jeans and hideous gray sweatshirts. I'm embarrassed to admit I was still wearing mine in 1997!

3. Regulated curfew meant MPs would be patrolling the streets so all the shenanigans simply moved away from the road. AND, there was no need to fear for your older brother's life when he decided to sneak out of his bedroom window and traipse across town. The patrol cars were only equipped with plastic butter knives anyway.

Pro: The ones that liked you would pull you over but would stop to chat for a couple of minutes rather than give you a ticket.

Con: When the big old bug truck comes around in the middle of the night and you decide to clobber it with globs of wet toilet paper to the point of obstructing the view of the driver...only to have it accidentally run over your arm...there is no one to hear you scream. Seriously. True story (BUT I was, in NO way, involved with this)

4. A residential speed limit of 15 mph is enough to seriously maim a cat but unfortunately not enough to put it out of it's misery.

Pro: I learned a lot from that one. Like, for example, why I should never apply lip gloss while driving. Specifically because I may have to split a $500 vet bill and assist the crank-pot veterinarian in neutering said feline.

Con: I was out @350 bucks AND I'm now all too familiar with what a male cat's testicles look like. You just can't take that back.

(This was my first car, Francesca, and my adorable baby brothers. It may not seem like much now, but she was a great little car and meant freedom for me)

5. You will always find someone who lives in Dugway or right outside the base who firmly and passionately believes that extraterrestrial life resides in the foothills. And they are just waiting for Bill Pulman to be elected president so they can attack us, ironically on the fourth of July.

Pro: Again, GREAT conversation starter.

Con: There's an underground movement determined to keep Bill Pullman from ever running for office.

6. In a such a small town, there is little you can do to keep everyone from knowing everything about you. Keeping secrets only makes the story floating around more ridiculous.

Pro: Got exciting news to share? Getting Married? Pregnant? Newly Single? No problem. The town will know about it in 10 minutes.

Con: Getting Married? Pregnant? Newly Single? The town will know about it in 10 minutes.

7. You have to try REALLY hard not to graduate from high school.

Pro: You can fake playing a musical instrument for an extended period of time and no one will notice.

Con: Some of your teachers will know you well enough personally to really dislike you personally.

8. You should never underestimate the importance of the relationships you cultivate as a kid. You never know where they'll take you. Case in point:

(We have a brother-in-law who refers to our engagement photo as the 'Kip and White Lafawnduh')

Make no mistake. I loved growing up there in my own little piece of mixed-up, quirky heaven. I'm sure there's a part of each of us that never wants to leave, never wants things to change battling the part that would rather die a slow, painful death involving tweezers and a blowtorch...the portion that wins generally depends on your own experience.

BUT, gratefully, life does go on and takes us on bigger adventures. What we can be grateful for, better or for worse, are the lessons we've learned along the way.

Happy Monday, everyone...especially my Dugway Peeps.

Simple Sabbath: Sliced, Diced and Discombobulated...

2011-06-05T19:29:00.002-06:00

This morning at church, our ward received a pretty big surprise.
(For those of you who aren't familiar with us Mormons, a 'ward' is a local congregation determined by geographical location.) We knew it was coming but I'm pretty sure not so many of us expected how the ward would change.

Essentially, it was pretty much almost sliced in half and the other half (those who didn't remain) were combined with a portion of another ward to create a new one.

It took my breath away to look at the sea of beautiful faces I've grown accustomed to seeing every week and realize I won't get to see them as often.

(sad sigh)

Change is hard.

BUT it can allow for great growth and happiness to occur.

I know it can.

We get to keep our friends from the new ward and strengthen friendships with the people we get to rebuild with.

In the meantime, I'm a little bit nervous about living next door to the bishop.

Happy Sabbath Everyone!

Simple Sabbath: A Week Well Done...

2011-05-29T13:31:00.003-06:00

I love those quiet Sunday afternoons when I get to reflect on the great accomplishments of the past week and brace myself for the week ahead. Here's a few of the highs:

*Lulu timidly bit into her first corn on the cob only to have her eyes light up and exclaim, "MMM! I like this...it's really yummy!" Ruby lit up similarly when I turned the oven light on while baking chocolate chip cookies. She stood there patiently gazing, drooling at them for the next few minutes until they were done.

*Sunshine and Bunny went ice skating together with our Co-op this week. They had an absolute BLAST and skated with grace and charm (they already have one up on me. I'm neither graceful nor charming when I attempt many things, much less skating). The most triumphant part of this experience is watching them interact, away from their family (we were in the bleachers). They were so sweet together. They watched out for one another, pulled each other up when the other would slip and hold hands to keep each other steady. It made all those recent lectures about how they should be best friends less tedious...and some how made Sunshine kicking Bunny in the head a little less frustrating.

(Sidenote: When we informed Sunshine this week that we've purchased Karate classes for Bunny her panicked response was, "Oh No! How am I going to be able to defend myself?!" Ironically, the Big Sister Smackdowns have been becoming much less frequent.)

*He-Man and I had a much needed break from the world, compliments of our neighbors/friends. We went to the Orlando Temple (which is a big deal for Mormons especially since ours is 2 1/2 hours away). We went out to dinner, only to realize we really didn't really want to be in public so we grabbed our food to-go and holed ourselves up in our hotel room. The next day we explored Downtown Disney (SANS kids!!!) and realized upon arriving at home, we hardly spoke to another human being during the entire trip. It was kind of amazing and wonderful to reconnect like that.

That brings me to today, post church and afternoon nap.

I'm happy for the new week and looking forward to the month of June, bringing its cross country trip, 200 mile race, end of the year test/assessment for our school kids, high school friends get-together, a trip to Star Wars Weekend at Disneyworld and loads of family time.

Phew! It's gonna be a GREAT month.

Happy Sabbath everyone!

And the Winners Are...

2011-05-28T19:50:00.003-06:00

THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU!!!

Friends, I received almost 80 responses to my question. The coolest part of this contest was reading everyone's favorites and taking a moment to connect with each one of you beautiful people. Being so far away from most of you, I miss your live sweet smiles and talking to you face to face. So it was almost like talking to you for real! It really has made my week.

With that said, I constructed a highly technological system (four 20-sided dice, blown on for Lady Luck). The names randomly drawn were:

Bambi Wright

and

Sandie Woolston

Congratulations, ladies!

I picked up something fabulous for both of you when He-Man and I went on our overnighter and will personally deliver it in June.

Thank you, again everyone!!

Happy weekend to YOU!

Simple Sabbath: Brought to You by Syndee F.

2011-05-22T14:40:00.003-06:00

There are so many, many benefits to going to church on Sundays. Among the most fanciful and frivolous is the opportunity for ridiculously girly women, such as myself, to get all gussied up and pretty. I love the shoes, the dresses, the jewelry and even the occasional fishnets.

For a looooong time I have loved, from a distance, pointy-toe heels. BUT, I've never been brave enough to wear them, thinking somehow, I'd be the one who managed to look like a mutant lawn gnome hopped on a some kind of gnome growth hormone (probably known as GGC). AND imagine my clumsy self trying to walk in something so sophisticated...not a pretty sight. I was destined to admire them from afar.

That is, until my FABULOUS fashion angel parted the brain cloud and introduced me to the world of of pointy-toe heels. My sweet, very generous friend gave me some gorgeous shoes recently. What's more is they are embellished with sparkly things that make me giddy like a little girl again. She got me thinking, that maybe, just maybe, this could work.

With a little luck and some practice,

It has.

So here's to you, Syndee...and to all you girly girls out there who get gussied up for church.

Happy Sabbath.

Where Ever You Go, Whatever You Do...(May Blog Drawing)

2011-05-20T16:27:00.007-06:00

I will be right here waiting for you...(sung in a very touchy-feely, sappy sort of way).

Very early on in the creation of our coupledom, that song, sung by Richard Marx, was established as 'our' song. It's totally over the top love-ballady and there was a time, albeit short, when I really wished He-Man's hair would defy gravity the way Marx's did circa late 80s. BUT with all it's emotional oozing, it still gets me all weepy...every time.

You should have seen me when it would pop up on the radio while He-Man was on his LDS mission an ocean and thousands of miles away. I feel sorry for the hapless observer (who would've been in the car next to mine)...crazy lady sobbing hysterically to the point of snotty tears streaming down her mascara stained face.

Probably not my proudest moment...nor my prettiest.

Fast forward a few years, we danced to that song on our wedding day along with 'Storybook Love' by Willy Deville. Naturally, to me they are two of the most romantic songs EVER. In the 12 years we've been married, there have been a few more songs that have made that list...

'Book of Love' by Peter Gabriel (STUNNINGLY gorgeous song)
'The Riddle' by Five for Fighting
'Remember When' by Alan Jackson
'Rhythm of Love' by The Plain White T's

In celebration of our Anniversary, He-Man and I are going on an overnighter to an undisclosed location very soon. I would love to add to this list for our trip. What do you think is the most romantic song ever?

Each person who suggests 1 song on this blog or on my facebook page between May 20th and 27th will be entered into my May Drawing. The winner will be randomly chosen from the entries.

The prize? I've got a couple of good things in mind but it will be personalized for the winner. It will also be something gloriously and hopelessly romantic...not in a creepy, scary-man-in-a-trench-coat way but in a makes-you-smile-on-a-rainy-day kind of way.

So put your thinking caps on 'cuz I'm eager to pick your brains.

Go ahead.

I will be right here waiting for you.

(A thousand heart-shaped apologies. I just couldn't help myself)

Other People's Bodily Fluids...aka Why Moms MUST Have Hand Sanitizer At All Times...

2011-05-18T20:15:00.005-06:00

This post is not for the squeamish or the easily grossed out.

It REALLY isn't.

I promise.

Okay, you've been warned.

Tis the month to celebrate mothers. I was feted on Mother's Day with breakfast in bed, a constant stream of homemade sonnets and cards, bright plastic bead jewlery and flannel flower corsages. It was lovely. Those sweet, heartfelt expressions of love made me want to do more to deserve such adoration. It was a happy day.

I found it utterly ironic how the following week's 'gifts' came in completely different packages...

One of our unnamed children was showing signs of a UTI so it was off to the Pediatrician we went...

Kid #1: "Mom, will Kid #2 have to pee in a cup?"

Me: "Yeah" (Kid #2's face is contorted into an expression of confusion mixed with morbid fascination)

Kid #2: "Do I get to keep it?"

Me: "No. I'm pretty sure it's illegal to do that in at least 40 of the 50 states."

Kid #2: "That would have been cool to do a Science Experiment with it though."

Me (thinking): DO NOT get any ideas...(saying this out loud would only give them ideas.)

Once at the Pediatrician's office:

Nurse: "Here's the cup. Mom, you may want to go in with her."

Kid #3: "Can I come too?"

Me: Absolutely Not.

Once within the privacy of the bathroom and prepared for duty:

Me: (strategically holding the specimen cup) "Okay honey, Ready? Go."

Nothing.

Kid #2: "Mom, it's kind of tricky going to the bathroom like this."

Me: "I know. Just take a deep breath and concentrate."

That worked...

Me: "Good job, Sweetie. I think we may need to work on your aim a little bit." (said in a "drippy, wiping myself dry" sort of way)

A few minutes later...

Good news! No UTI! ($40 later)

Kids #1, #2, #3: "Can we have a sucker?!"

Kid #4: (anxious grunts and reaching)

Me: Sure! (I unwrap the suckers and Kid #4 immediately chomps and pulls her sucker from it's stick).

The Drooling begins...

Then the choking...

The scary kind. The quiet kind.

Me: (Thinking to myself) Stay calm. You've practiced this before. Upside down baby, followed by thwaps on the back.

Kid #4: Still struggling. Some crying. A little coughing. A LOT of gagging.

Office staff and Pediatrician run toward Kid #4.

Finally crying. Really MAD crying. Like, You-Just-Stole-My-Sucker crying.

More Gagging..and slobber...and now snot...all being wiped onto my brand new lemon yellow shirt.

Then it came. One big, juicy burp-gag and the remnants of lunch and our berry smoothie came up, out and onto my, no longer lemon-yellow, shirt.

I was dripping great, big slimy chunks of partially digested strawberries. Kid #4 was furious.

Kid #1: "Uh, Mom...You have puke on your shirt."

Me: "Thank you, Captain Obvious."

Kid #1: (grossed out but still giggling)

Kid #2: "You kind of smell like throw-up."

Kid #3: "Momma?"

Me: "Yes"

Kid #3: "Do I have to hold your hand in the parking lot?"

Me: "Not this time, Sweetie."

Kid #4 settles down and I load up the van, careful not to touch anything upholstered.

As I drove home, with the sun baking the globs of goo through the window, I realized I had never been so grateful for vomit in my entire life. This realization made the smell a little more bearable.

To top it all off:
Today, as I placed Kid #4 on a yoga mat to offer a softer place to be changed on, I watched in slow motion horror as an unprecedented blow-out began oozing out of a completely useless diaper...onto the yoga mat.

Kid #2: "Awww man...and that was my yoga mat too!"

Me: (Helpless Sigh)

And so it is the month of celebrated motherhood; the month when we get to ponder upon the many situations where we fearlessly go in where the bombs are dropping. We catch pee for samples, offer a soft and comforting place to vomit, and can disinfect sports equipment faster than a speeding bullet.

It's a tough job, but someone's got to do it. Barring the bodily fluids, I feel pretty lucky it's me. I wouldn't have it any other way.

The Month that BLEW UP the Budget and Other Shenanigans...

2011-05-17T19:03:00.004-06:00

May. What a month!

And it's only half-way over.

It has been a great month, an exhausting month-A month when I'm reminded of the many blessings we've received living here. I continue to strive, however clumsily, to be even remotely deserving of such bounty.

Today is the kind of day when I'm reminded not to sweat the small stuff and remember all the things that have gone right this month. Today I've had the opposite of the 'Midas Touch'. In fact, it wouldn't be that unreasonable to call it "The Touch of Death"....

I started a load of white laundry. When I lifted the lid after the cycle, I gasped. Everything was a deep shade of green and the box of Dark Green RID dye preciously sitting on the dryer was missing.

I started a loaf of wheat bread in my dough maker this afternoon. Half way through the process, I heard a crash...yep, it was my dough maker that somehow kamikazed it's way onto my tile floor.

I also stubbed my obscenely long finger toes on a table leg as I was trying to clean up the mess.

In the end, as the Day of Destruction wanes, there is much to be thankful for...so much to appreciate May for.

May has:

*Given us a new vehicle. Our Windstar, Ophelia, has been retired and upgraded to a Swagger Wagon named 'Isabella'. I feel so posh. (Words fail to describe the terror I feel when putting 'posh' and 'minivan' in the same statement.)

*Afforded us a Wii. After much wishing and hoping, both secretly and outwardly, He-Man surprised the family by making the winning bid at a fundraising auction. Here's hoping 'The Michael Jackson Experience' will soon follow. (Maybe a written statement expressing my willingness to dance one dance naked ought to do the trick.)

*He-Man and I celebrated our 12th Anniversary. Again, words fail but this time in describing the awesomeness of being married to a Master of the Universe.

*For the first time since beginning my novel about a year ago, I can actually envision myself becoming a published author. This explains my deplorable lack of blog posts. Whether it's self published or we find a publisher, I am proud of my work and I'm eager to share it. It's always been scary to verbalize this ambition but as I come closer and closer to finishing, the less scary it becomes.

*Then there's the kids...those sweet, beautiful girls we are so blessed to have in our lives. They continue to thrive and teach us every day. It amazes me how fast they are becoming young women with minds of their own. One thing they all seem to do better than I've ever been able to do in my 30+ years on this earth is to recognize a weakness and work to overcome it. Homeschooling has really provided each of us a microscope to view each family member under. It's a bit overwhelming at times but has made me see just how truly humble and teachable these children are.

I can only hope to be like them when I grow up.

And so May goes. Even though our pearly white unmentionables are no longer so white, our dough maker has a pension for unscheduled launches and my finger-toes keep getting me into trouble, life is good...oh, so very good.

Random Photos...

2011-05-09T18:23:00.005-06:00

My daughter tagged me to list 5 random photos and since I'm on the laptop, which has REALLY random photos, I thought this would be an ideal time to respond....

Memory Monday: Happiness is...

2011-04-18T21:27:00.007-06:00

One of my favorite memories of living in Pennsylvania for a few years while growing up was the magic of it's summer nights.

The air felt heavy and sweet, think with warmth and humidity. The lush green of the forests always gave me a sense of protection and safety. But, there was one thing in particular that made those mights truly magical.

Fireflies.

I loved them so much.

Seriously, fireflies are one of the most amazing things ever!

Think about it. They're like unicorns and fairies...only they're REAL! As an added bonus, they don't stink or bite. In fact, they manage to coexist with all the noxious bugs while doing their own glorious and unique thing.

When we eventually moved from Pennsylvania and relocated to Utah, I remember being truly saddened by the realization there were no fireflies in the West.

I must take a moment to admit my one indiscretion though. One night, my brother, who loved to be right, told me that smooshing a firefly would create a glow streak. 'No way!" I said, refusing to believe my younger brother could know something I didn't. Of course, this created a minutes long debate that culminated in my smearing a firefly on the pavement only to discover that my brother was right. UG! AND I had just pulverized a little creature that was only minding it's own business. That night I had a dream I was about to be smashed to smithereens by an enormous, very irrate firefly...(by the way, if you look them in the face, up close, they tend to look a bit angry)

(I continue to do penance for that act by being a bit maniacal about my recycling habits.)

Fast forward a few years when I became aware of a mental bucket list. I have wanted soooo badly to show my family fireflies. When we found out we were moving to Florida, the first thing I tried to find out was whether or not fireflies were indigenous to the area. Anytime I would ask, the usual response was, "Hmm, I think I may have seen them here once or twice. Maybe they're here...I can't remember."

What?! You can't remember seeing the fireflies?!

I was beginning to lose hope and figured that item on my list would have to be checked off another time.

Last month my fabulous friend Maggie called to tell me where I might be able to find them here. They actually don't stick around because it's too hot in the summer but their migratory pattern goes through here every year and, for a few short days, you can find them if you know where to look. Maggie pointed me in the right direction and after a few phone calls and regular check-ups, I got word that they had arrived.

Saturday night, we picnicked while waiting for dark. Unfortunately, our bug spray must be retired because we've got bug bites to remind us of where we were.

After an anxious hour or so, we began looking through the dense brush as we slowly drove down the rural road.

We didn't see any and my heart sank.

All we had to show for the night was a really pretty shot of the sunset... and the loss of about 25% of our collective flesh from the eagle sized mosquitoes.

We were about to turn back when suddenly, He-Man saw a blink!

Then Sunshine...then Bunny! There were a lot of "...uh. I think I just saw one." before we began REALLY seeing them. After a few minutes, there were hundreds!

As we drove slowly down the lane, we couldn't help ourselves and played the song 'Fireflies' by Owl City. Now that song will mean even more to us!

There was a moment when all was silent from everyone being mesmerized and I heard Bunny's whispering voice, "Fireflies are the best creatures EVER!"

(Smiles, a happy heart and a very tender prayer of gratitude to a very loving and generous Heavenly Father for such a perfect moment)

We parked, got out and went searching for some to look at more closely.

We put a few in a Mason jar, watched them a little while, then gently let them go.

It was a nearly perfect night...except for an altercation in the backseat that involved stinky dirty feet and angry faces.

Sometimes the buzz wears off faster than others.

Daytime Television IS NOT for kids!

2011-04-14T21:31:00.005-06:00

First of all, I'm pleased to announce the winner of my March drawing is none other than Karen Woolston! Congrats, Girl! You should be expecting a little something uniquely Floridian in the mail soon.

I saw an announcement today on the news that two of the longest running daytime soap operas will be permanently signing off in the next few months.

Apparently, that leaves 4 left.

It's the end of an era of sorts.

Not that I'm gasping for air or anything since I never was allowed to watch soaps growing up...except for that one summer in junior high...

I was old enough to start babysitting so I often found myself watching sleeping children during naptime. Of course, being the normal pubescent teenager that I was, I would have rather gouged my eyes out with a nail file than read a book. Instead, I did something slightly more damaging: I got hooked on Soap Operas.

I was fascinated by this new fangled concept of watching over-dramatic beautiful people carry on the way they did. Why on earth did my Momma keep me from such culture?! All the people were flawless, owned sprawling estates with spiral staircases AND, as an added bonus, they inherited a brand-new half sibling every season. How cool is that?! Nevermind the awkwardness of discovering your marriage is now illegal and significantly disturbing (although that would explain why their baby was born with a third ear.)

They lived in towns like 'Mystic Springs Hollyoak Manor' or 'Port Passion'. They went on vacations to exotic deserted islands only to discover that it was the secret base for the FBI. Of course, those vacationers would then be recruited as secret agents to fight against the evil Angelo who happened to be Frulookistan's Mob Boss. I didn't even know Frulookistan had a mob! Inevitably, one of the suddenly adept recruits would accidentally fall hormonally in love with Angelo's dashingly handsome son who, for some inexplicable reason, couldn't keep a shirt on his bulging chest and stomach muscles. Coincidentally, the two managed to get locked in a janitor's closet at the local pizzeria. And, all of these scenarios played out over no less than 9 and a half months.

Unfortunately, my summer break only lasted 3. At first I was bit worried that I'd miss something since there was NO WAY my mother would ever let me record soap operas on our VCR. How surprised I was the following summer when I discovered they were still right about where I got off the crazy daytime television train the summer before.

By then I was a cheerleader, a freshman in high school and had absolutely no time to watch TV. Although, I would carry the lessons I learned from that summer while living my life through the flawless people of "One Life For All My Many, Many Illegitimate Children".

As a homage to the daytime dramas of yesteryear, and a salute to their pending sign-offs, I thought I'd impart the wisdom I gained during my hours glued to their programs. (Granted, these valuable lessons are certainly not limited to the following):

1. There is no such thing as venereal disease in 'Port Passion'.

2. With as much as soap characters talk to themselves, most of them probably ought to be certifiably committed. I'm just sayin'.

3. Unless you see cold, hard evidence that your husband has been 'offed' for good, never, ever assume he's gone forever because he'll pop up in a moment you least expect him. The soap opera world has an amazing recurrence of maniacal evil twins, brain transplants and bouts of amnesia. (You'd think you'd remember being dismembered...who knew?!)

4. Kissing must always include flailing arms, passionate face sucking and smooshing bodies together. Halitosis, over salivation and smeared lipstick do not exist.

And Finally:

5. Why do anything in a calm and rational manner when you can blow everything way out of proportion? If it ever gets too intense, make a smoldering facial expression and wait 3 1/2 minutes for a commercial break on adult incontinence.

Sayonara, Soapies...may your obnoxiously endless plots finally see an end with Fabio grasping some lady with really long hair silhouetted against a golden sunset.

Complete and Utterly Incandescent Twiterpation

2011-04-08T18:11:00.006-06:00

This week, our very generous and photographically gifted Penny took our family pictures.

I have always wanted beach front family pictures so I was delighted by the prospect of finding a spot of beach for the shoot.

They turned out marvelous and I LOVE them.

Good grief, that's A LOT of estrogen.

He-Man handles it all well though.

Then there's this picture.
It makes me weak in the knees.
For the first couple of days I had to sit down and gawk at it every few hours.

It may seem unassuming to everyone else but I completely melted over the realization that the look He-Man has on his face is the one he makes for me alone.

It reminded me that he loves me...even though I'm supremely flawed.

Even though I leave the vacuum cord unwound because I hate the redundancy of winding it back up.

Even though sometimes I stop mid sentence and never finish.

Even though I leave the cupboard doors open but will lock bathrooms doors with no one inside just to keep them clean a little longer.

Even though I'M the messy one in the relationship.

Even though he possesses super-natural bathroom etiquette but was stuck with me...there will be absolutely no elaborating.

Of course, these are only a few of the small things but trust me there are a bunch of others even more obnoxious.

It makes me want to be better. Just because he's so worth it!

Sleep in Peace, My Sweet Little Friend

2011-04-06T21:07:00.003-06:00

I'm having a hard time finding the words for this post. Yet, I feel desperate to write it.

Thursday night, as I was preparing for bed, I checked my email and was making a birthday call to a dear friend. I happened to click on my facebook account. My stomach lurched.

The first thing I noticed was that a dear, beautiful friend had passed away. For years she fought a valiant battle. A brain tumor had robbed of so much of the things we take for granted but I believe she has ultimately won.

Iholany was 11 years old.

As I sat there, not knowing how to feel or react, the initial shock wore off and He-Man did what he did best and placed his comforting arms on my shoulders. Saying nothing, I felt peace. I can only hope Iholany's family is feeling at least a measure of that peace right now.

I have a urgent need to share the story of our friendship. Perhaps it's away to share the light of hope with others who weren't transcendentally blessed to have crossed her radiant, shooting star path.

A little over 4 years ago, my two girls and I moved to Orem, Utah while He-Man finished his grad studies in Oregon. As a way of dealing with the juggle of single parenting and missing my husband, I went back to work for Chrissy's elementary school for a couple of hours a day. Shortly before I started, I discovered that I was pregnant and realized going back to substitute teaching was probably not feasible. I was hired on as a math tutor and was delighted by the opportunity to utilize my skills in teaching younger children basic arithmetic.

After a while, I discovered that I had a window of time that needed to be filled. I went to the principal for recommendations on how my abilities could be put to the best use.

His response was enthusiastic. He described to me a need in a 1st grade class. A little girl needed help during the last hour before lunch and then further assistance during recess. She was nearly blind because of a brain tumor and was struggling to get in and out of the cafeteria. The fresh air during lunch was good for her but the ice on the playground proved very dangerous for a visually impaired individual who was healing from surgical wounds to her skull. A few days before I started, she had fallen and hit her head.

I started working with her that day.

She was adorable. She had big, beautiful brown eyes and a shy, sweet smile. She was a ray of sunshine; very polite with a heart overflowing with love for EVERYONE. I walked with her to lunch. With one hand she held out her walking cane and the other she linked with my arm. We were fast friends.

She told me about her family. Her description of each of them was as though they were superheroes...which, after meeting them wasn't too far from the truth. She had this incredible gift to see each person accurately with the most loving, adoring eyes. So in reality, her vision was one of her greatest strengths.

She always called me beautiful. Being husbandless, bloated and ready to puke my guts out at any given moment, that was the nicest thing anyone could say and she meant it.

She loved pink and was the very epitome of what a princess should be.

After lunches, we'd walk around the playground, dodging the ice and talking. The children of our community left me so high hopes for our future as a society because they were all so kind to her and accepted her limitations and wanted to spend time with her. In some ways, they were a little unsure of how to interact but still were eager to say 'hello'.

That's when I realized something else I could do. My job was not only to protect her from the elements but also to come up with ways other children could play with her.

As the season changed to spring, Iholany and I would get our hands slimy in a bucket of 'Bubble Blood' used for making enormous bubbles. Kids flocked to join our fun and Iholany got to play with her friends just like she wanted so desperately to do.

We sat in a circle on the fresh spring grass with little friends learning 'Down by the Banks' and sang all sorts of silly songs. We played with homemade playdough during rainy recess. Iholany was grateful for everything.

The school year eventually ended. I said goodbye to my little friend, looking forward to the next year and left my post to have a baby. The last few months of my pregnancy were quite stressful and while I was immersed in my own life and my family's needs, I thought of her and her sweet family often.

Oh how thrilled I was when I discovered they moved around the corner! He-Man and I quickly became her Sunday school teachers. I loved that now my entire family would get to know my her.

She would be in and out of the hospital and Sunshine, who loved her so much, would come with me for visits when she was home. It became our habit to sing "Boom Chica Boom" as we surrounded her bed or chair. I'm absolutely positive I looked insane.

But that was part of the fun.

Before we moved, He-Man and I started going over to her home to help her with some limited chiropractic care. Her little body had been through so much and we hoped and prayed that some light massage might help her neck muscles relax a little so she would have greater mobility.

I was so scared. I wasn't about to let anyone hurt our precious Iholany but I knew He-Man, of all people, with his ability to heal and help, could do something for her...even if it was small.

Shortly after, We moved while she was away in a specialized hospital. It broke my heart that I didn't get to say goodbye...not so much for me, but I couldn't bare the thought that she would think she wasn't important enough for a 'goodbye'.

When I visited Utah a year ago, I got to sit with her, talk and of course, rap a round of 'Boom Chica Boom'. I was struck by her and her family's perseverance, will and cheerfulness. It was wonderful to see them again.

As we were saying goodbye, her eyes filled with tears as she asked me when I was coming back. I wished it could have been sooner. I promised I would visit her again the next time I came home. I didn't realize it would be our last visit together.

She taught me so much.

She taught how to love my family more, to see them closer to the way God sees them.

She taught me how to laugh at the simple things.

She reminded me there is absolutely nothing wrong with being a grown-up and wanting to be surrounded by pink ruffles.

She reminded me of true, abiding friendship.

She reminds me that families are forever. Our Heavenly Father loves us more than letting us have our families just for this life alone. The cruelty of any other scenario would just be too much to bare.

The amazing thing about it is that I know I'm not the only one who feels this way. In her 11 years on this planet, she touched so many lives. She made so many friends. She made her imprint on so many of us. She reminded us of what is real and abiding.

May we all live in such a way as this.

Sleep in peace, my sweet friend.

The Madness of March(...month #3 drawing)

2011-04-02T21:46:00.001-06:00

March was an intense month.

Really.

Lots of wonderful and exciting things happened. It also was the month of heartbreaking news from people we care about.

Here's the low-down:

1. After playing 'The Michael Jackson Experience' for 3 straight hours with a few of my great Florida friends, it's become clear that we need a Wii and my children must learn the dance to 'Thriller'.

2. We said 'Goodbye' to great friends moving onto brand new adventures in New York.

3. I had the honor of speaking to the women in our stake about the blessings of sisterhood. (It's funny that I would be asked to speak about that since I never had sisters growing up...yet, I've accumulated more sisters than I ever could have hoped for.)

4. The top-secret project I'm working on got a little more ready to share.

5. We lost two beautiful and courageous friends. I'll write more about that later. I'm still gathering my thoughts. My heart is broken for their families. I'm still breathless over the contrast in which these sweet souls were taken from us and can not quite find the words.

6. I realized I can not, without experiencing the rage of a mother bear, watch horrid mothers verbally abuse their children. Seriously, the anger is rising again. You better believe that if you are going to humiliate and belittle your children in public, some of us are going call you out. You've been warned.

7. As a family, we were reminded of the absolute joy of loving your surrounding neighbors. It can make a home truly heavenly.

8. We fell a little more in love with Florida. The Gate River 15k run is an amazing way to see the city of Jacksonville. There are a lot of really cool people in Jax!

As I say goodbye to March, I sign-off with my March Drawing. One of my blogging buddies will receive a great little bundle of randomness filled with stuff unique to our current home town. Prepare to be dazzled. Just let me know with a comment here or on Facebook if you want to be in the drawing.

You are all wonderful, sweet friends. Life's too short not to tell you that.

Simple Sunday: High Tide

2011-03-20T18:58:00.003-06:00

Sunday night strolls on the beach...
Bliss!

Simple Sabbath: Afternoon Naps

2011-03-13T15:14:00.002-06:00

I LOVE 9:00 church.

Love it.

We wake up early, participate in Sunday worship, which is always edifying, and then it's lunch time....

And nap time!

Have I mentioned how awesome this guy is?! He ran 9.1 miles on the Gate River Run yesterday.

YEAH Baby! Ragnar here we come!

And the Winner is...

2011-03-11T19:01:00.002-07:00

Thank you so much for all of your input! I'm still working on the compilation but must say...It's AWESOME! I'll post it soon. In the meantime, the winner for February's is...

My wonderful Oregon friend, SHEILA PAINTER!

Thank you again, everyone!!

Happy Weekend. :)

Memory Monday: 13 Year Perspective...

2011-03-08T12:54:00.007-07:00

13 years ago I was a different person. I was lost, confused and I felt so alone.

In the past year, I had broken off a very toxic relationship (and when I say toxic, I take full responsibility for my part of the poison but recognize the need to be merciful to myself and not allow me to take the part that wasn't.) Then, promptly destroyed a perfectly fantastic friendship by rebounding into a romantic relationship that was doomed to fail.

Heartsick and exhausted, I questioned everything about who I was and despised myself for what I had put others through in trying to figure my life out. At the end of that year, I didn't know much of anything, with the exception of 2 things:

1. God loved me, even if I didn't.

2. The main reason my past relationships failed was because of the fact that I was completely and utterly in love with a boy who I compared every one of my boyfriends too.

The trouble was, I spent a vast majority of the time we had together completely taking him for granted. I was terribly inconsiderate and clueless to his feelings; and it was around this tumultuous time when I discovered how much hurt I had inflicted upon him throughout the years. He had gone on with his life, graduating high school and then leaving for 2 years to serve as a missionary for our church in Great Britain.

In other words, I had 2 years to think about what I wanted to do with my life and ponder what consequences would come from my impervious cluelessness before I could know whether or not I had completely blown it with him.

As part of my effort to 'regroup', I went on a vacation to Florida with my family. We had relatives who worked for Disney so we got to spend a week there, touring the parks. It had been so long since I got to just 'hang out' with my baby brothers with no other school or work commitments. The change of scenery was nice.

One of the most memorable parts of our vacation was Epcot's World Showcase which is an exhibit that includes a representation of several countries from around the world. It has shops, rides and buildings inspired by each of the represented countries. It quickly became my very favorite part of Epcot.

When we came to 'Great Britain', I thought of my boy, who I technically couldn't call 'my boy'. Mercifully, we could still write to each other as friends so my mom took a picture of me in 'Great Britain' to send to him. We were all thrilled with the irony and considered ourselves very clever.

The followings months I continued to wonder if he could ever forgive me. Was there even a chance for us or was I too late in appreciating what a gift he had been to my life? Could his family, after knowing what I put him through ever forgive me too?

That's who I was 13 years ago.

This past Saturday, I went back to Epcot. We got to ride in what Bunny calls 'The Gigantic Golf Ball' and Mission:Space. We even played in Tinkerbell's garden. Oh what fun was had by all!

It was dusk by the time we approached 'Great Britain'. It has changed from when I was there last; new features, different greenery. I shouldn't have been that surprised. I had changed too, after all.

As we meandered through the UK, I immediately saw it. It was the corner where my picture was taken 13 years earlier. It took my breath away to consider what those 13 years had done to both of us. I'm pretty sure millions of people have walked past that unassuming corner since then. As for the changes in me, my hair is darker, gravity has begun its universal magic and my hips are a bit wider...subtle things still really. Nothing terribly monumental.

You may wonder if those years have been kind.

To be honest, yes. Very.

All I need for reaffirmation is to look at the faces of my little girls and their handsome daddy, whom I love more than any other man I've ever known...

Who to me, no matter how much time passes, will always be 'my boy'.

Enlisting YOUR help...Febrary's Belated Blog Drawing

2011-03-03T17:37:00.006-07:00

In February, I missed my New Year's Resolution to have a blog drawing every month this year. So to get back on track, I'm having a belated February drawing NOW and another one at the end of March.

Here's the story:

Darius Rucker ROCKS! I loved him when he was a Blowfish. His voice is like warm apple cider with a caramel twist while immersed in a great book and snuggled up in most comfortable and softest blanket ever imaginable.

He's even cooler since heading over to country music.

I've never had anything against country music but it hasn't been what I first turn my radio on to. Recently, I'm finding myself tuning in more often and LOVING what I hear. I've discovered that Brad Paisley is a brilliant songwriter and Sugarland, well, I just think they ought to be my other next door neighbors (not replacing any of my current ones because I love them).

He-Man, on the other hand, is a bit of a hold-out. He's not entirely convinced of it's awesomeness.

So I've been thinking. I need to create a compilation of the best country music EVER to integrate my family. Living practically on the border of the deep south, it would be a miscarriage of justice not to gain an appreciation for what we have here.

Epiphany! What a great reason for a blog drawing!! I would love to know what your all-time favorite country music songs are. We're country music babies, so consider the days of yesteryear when pondering on the besties.

Here are the details.

1. Leave a comment between now and March 11th, either on here or on my Facebook page with one or two (or three) of your all-time favorite country music songs. This will count as your entry.

2. Pass this message along. If a friend inputs music on this blog post and mentions your name, not only will they be entered, YOU will be entered again as well.

And the prize?

It's not much, but a little something fun. If your name is drawn, you'll be receiving a $10 Itunes gift card within a few days.

On Friday, March 11th, I'll post the winner and the music list.

I'm eager to read what you have to say! Happy Picking!

Eating Sea Monkeys...and Liking It!

2011-03-02T19:54:00.003-07:00

We're not big meat eaters in our home. I grew up with meat and potatoes whereas He-Man was raised on beans and rice. Somehow, in the past decade we've managed to gravitate to eating green-food, eggs, beans and grains and lots of potatoes and pasta. While we haven't completely eliminated meat from our diet, it's generally not the center of our meal.

Naturally, we're healthier for it too. We love salads and roasted potatoes. We eat quinoa and several other of the more obscure grains and we love sandwiches stuffed to the max with veggies. Luckily, we tend to like the same kinds of foods even if that means those foods are prepared a little differently for each person.

That is, except for one thing.

Sea food.

I LOVE seafood. Give me sushi or sashimi that has barely stopped squirming and I'm a happy girl. Throw a little bit of rice and a generous blob of wasabi on a bed of seaweed and I'm so giddy, I'd even pretend to be dignified by eating it with chopsticks.

I'd eat it in one form or another everyday if I could.

But I can't.

Because with the exception of an occasional willingness to eat salmon (and that's only with some members), my family won't touch anything that lived within close proximity to the ocean; Not even with a sterilized and glitter covered ten-foot pole that could then be used as the awesomest magical wand EVER.

No one dislikes it more than He-Man. It's like his kryptonite. He gags. He dry heaves. He gasps and plugs his nose whenever he's near seafood in any form.

About 7 years ago, he took me to Red Lobster for my birthday. My birthday twin, Lindsay, and I were feted by our husbands with lobster and shrimp and a whole lotta cheddar biscuits.

It was glorious. And with as much as He-Man loathes fish, I knew he really, really loved me.

I guess I was having the 7 year itch because for months, I was craving Red Lobster again. Out of respect for my husband, I decided to wait until he was out of town to treat myself and our girls to a date at a restaurant and in the meantime, attempt to change their impressionable little minds about seafood.

The following pretty much sums up the experience:

(As we pull up to a parking spot) Bunny: "Mom. I forgot my shoes and socks."

Mom: "Well, usually you leave another pair in the car. Wanna check under the seat?" (Before remembering I had just cleaned out the car the day before)

Bunny: "Nope"

Mom: "Okay. I'll carry you in. Sunshine, will you please carry Ruby?"

(walk through the front doors)

(Squeals in unison, lots of voices) "Oh Momma, look how cute these Lobsters are! Oh look! One is looking at me! Oh, how silly they are...they must have been honking each others' noses so they put rubber bands on their hands!"

(Sunshine stops dead in her tracks and the color fades from her face as she whispers, away from the others): "Mom. These lobsters are going to be eaten, aren't they?"

Hostess: "Please follow me. I'll show you to your seat"

(Sunshine shoots deadly dagger looks towards the chefs in the kitchen)

Bunny: "Momma! They gave us 4 crayons to color on the menu. I'll have macaroni and cheese."

Mom: "Well, actually Honey, we're going to try something new today."

Bunny: "Okay. But what?"

Mom: "Something called Garlic Shrimp Scampi".

Bunny: "Ewwww. That's gross, Mom."

Lulu: "Yeah. I don't like Shimp Garlic...blah!" (sticks out her tongue)

(The tugging at the other side of my shirt becomes increasingly more desperate)

Sunshine (eyes filled with tears): Red Lobster is so cruel! Look at these cute cartoon lobsters, (pointing to the menu) and all Red Lobster wants to do is eat them!" (tear trickles down her face)

Mom: "How about this: Let's start with salad and some yummy cheddar biscuits."

Sunshine: "No way! They probably have helpless ground-up baby seahorses in them." (wiping the tears from her eyes)

Mom: "Would it make you feel better if I promised not to order the Lobster?"

(Sunshine nods as fresh tears begin)

(Salad comes out and it's time to order)

Mom (over enthusiastically): "Alright girls, how about we have some shrimp?"

Bunny: "No Way!"

Lulu: (vigorous head shake)

Sunshine (with a look of great indignation): "Momma. I'm not eating shrimp. They're the sea's monkeys and I do not eat monkeys."

(At this point I realize there's not much I'm going to get away with and, after placing my word of honor on not eating a bottom-dwelling Cretaceous scavenger, I made an executive decision: french fries all around, steamed veggies, fruit bowls and Garlic Shrimp and Snow Crab Legs for everyone to share.)

As we waited for our meal, the girls ate their weight in cheddar biscuits as Ruby created a fairly impressive pile of pulverized biscuit crumbs beneath her chair all while we discussied the inappropriate uses for the little sugar packets at the center of the table.

Just as the girls were getting antsy, our angel of seafood mercy (or horsewoman of the apocalypse, depending on who you ask) brought over our tray.

(Glorious exclamations of praise and enjoyment over the french fries, fruit and steamed veggies. Then totally disgust as she presents the shrimp offering. But nothing will compare with the next dish...)

Imagine the sound of the theme from 'JAWS' as it approached its latest lunch...

The angel/horsewoman draws closer, dish in hand, resting on her shoulder...she approaches and lays before us seemingly endless legs...with no body! And...and...they're frozen, as if in mid-stroll! And all that is left as a consolation prize is a bowl of butter and a lemon wedge!

(The hysterical wailing begins anew)

"Why? Oh Why, did they have to die?!"

Mom: "Excuse me, would you please bring dessert out right away?!"

Peace was restored once again after I allowed them to eat dessert first. And as they sat, reveling in their death-by-chocolate-cake and ice cream, they would occasionally glance in my direction with a mixture of horror and curiosity while watching me open the crab legs with the cracking tool.

It made me feel totally barbaric.

Eventually, everyone got their fill of french fries, ice cream and steamed veggies AND only one of us felt it necessary to stick several fries into her facial orifices. There were no more uncontrollable sobs or fits of rage toward Sea Monkey eaters...just an eventual end to meal.

As we passed the pool where that night's dinner sat, I saw Sunshine fight back tears and swallow, really hard. When we walked out the door, she breathed a huge sigh of relief and exclaimed, "Phew! Let's never go there again!"

Bunny: "Yeah, Mom! Sunshine's right!"

Lulu: "Yeah! Never, ever, anymore!"

Well, there you have it. Apparently, I will continue to be the sole Sea Monkey killer in our family while the rest of them become the future heads of PETA.

Memory Monday...

2011-02-28T15:26:00.000-07:00

Due to illness, (sniffle, sniffle, snort) Memory Monday has been preempted. Ug.

Simple Sabbath: From Sunshine's Perspective

2011-02-27T13:31:00.003-07:00

I thought I managed to narrowly miss the awful cold that has swept through our little circle. Our babies have so lovingly shared it with each other and have given it to their older siblings.

The other day I was reveling in the fact that I avoided getting hit, even taking a large, unhindered breath through my clear and fully functioning nostrils.

Unfortunately, I must have gotten clobbered with one too many germ clouds (evident by the t-shirts in my laundry basket that are covered in slime) because it hit me like a ton of bricks when I woke up this morning.

This afternoon, after a rather stuffed-up nap, I checked my email. This blog update was sent to my in-box:

"Today mom (Trishelle) tried to make wheat free bread (she has a bad allergy to wheat). Big mistake with the flower she used. Now I'm sitting here smelling smoke,(whale of a time.) reading magic school bus. Whats up with that??"

It was accompanied by a picture of my bread maker:

Memory Monday: The Little Boy 'Shock Collar'

2011-02-21T19:43:00.004-07:00

Make no mistake. This is not my memory.

But with the permission of husbands who will remain nameless, this story simply must be retold. The memory serves as a blazing reminder that those of us of 'Gen-X' were undeniably, the 'Tester Generation'.

Think about it.

Lead paint on metal playground equipment. (What ever happen to those glorious merry-go-rounds that would induce vomiting after 20 too many rides?)

Teeny, tiny little Light-Brite pegs and all those little legos that could potentially get lodged in our respective esophaguses...or it esophagis?

I was minding my own business the other day when I stumbled upon a stark reminder of just how 'Tester' we were.

My most excellent mother and father-in-law regularly and very generously send care packages our way. They brighten everyone's day and with budding fashionistas in our home, clothing is always well received.

After clearing the contents of the latest offering, the girls had retreated, loot in hand, up to their rooms to put it all away. I was fumbling with the odds and ends when I found myself holding something that looked like a really sick torture device.

Essentially, it looked like a jock strap with wires attached to it.

My gut reaction was to launch it as far away from my person as quickly as I could.

I felt like I had just violated someone's privacy.

After a minute and regaining my composure, I cautiously went back to the task at hand and quickly realized that it wasn't a torture device at all but actually only a segment of a more intricate tool to bring about certain misery to some poor, hapless victim.

There were some wires.

And another jock-strappy thing.

It even had a place for batteries.

Very frightening.

Then, I found the box.

I was right. It was designed for little boys...which totally confused me seeing as how, well, we don't have any of those around. What I saw before me was a 'Stop Bed-Wetting Kit'.

I was still too weirded out to fiddle with it much so naturally, I put it on display on my kitchen counter.

When an anonymous male walked through the door and laid eyes on it, he shrieked like a little girl, retreated into a corner and rocked back and forth while singing "I'm a Little Tea Pot".

Just kidding...but it makes for a great visual, doesn't it?

As always, this unnamed man kept it cool when he saw this little gem and even smirked a bit.

He then proceeded to share the sordid tale.

As children, he and another unnamed sibling were incredibly deep sleepers...Hmmm, with as deep as our children sleep, my bets are on that being a gross understatement.

I may have mentioned before: our kids could sleep through nuclear holocaust. Apparently, so could a couple of their progenitors because their parents tried every trick in the book to keep the bedsheets dry at night. Bedwetting was a bit of a problem. Factor in the costs and time it took to wash the bed linens all while having only a coin operated community laundro-mat, I could imagine the exhaustion.

At one point, Anonymous Man's parents resorted to hooking up their two bedwetting
culprits to a device, not unlike a doggie shock collar, that would BUZZ every time it detected moisture.

In extensive interviews I have discovered the following results: There was a half awake, very irritated older brother who would holler at deeply sleeping brothers when their buzzers kept waking him up. (At least it worked for someone. Perhaps it can't be considered completely ineffective if a bedwetter is awakened as a result of the sleep deprived rage of innocent bystanders).

Also, at least one of the not-so-innocent victims has admitted that when he hears similar buzzing sounds as an adult while drifting off to sleep, he is swallowed up by nightmares of really large toilets that look a lot like Pee-Wee's armchair. (actually, I made the toilet part up but again, great visual!)

And then there's a result I've been observing for years that I didn't even realize until now. Little boy bedwetters become very patient, loving Daddies to little girls who come into their bedrooms in the middle of the night, completely soaked, shivering and wreaking of that last gallon of late night fluid used to quench an insatiable thirst.

Who knew I'd see expressions of real empathy even while our R.E.M cycles are totally interrupted?

I wonder if the makers of that blasted buzzer decided its sound was more effective than using a cute little tune like "Drip, Drip, Drop Little April Showers".

Or did they ever consider what would happen if one of those wires got loose? How's that for a rude awakening?

What I do know is that you don't see those kinds of contraptions around much anymore....which goes back to my 'Tester Generation' theory.

It's amazing how many of us made it.

To be perfectly honest, we all have baggage of one kind or another. I guess the key to living a well adjusted life is to fight the urge to take it all too seriously...Although, in this case, I highly recommend that the Future Bedwetters of America unite, learn from Gen-X and just develop bladders of steel.

Simple Sabbath: China Sunday

2011-02-13T14:49:00.002-07:00

A couple of times a month, our family likes to have 'China Sunday'. Basically, we set out our China dishes and our very best manners and enjoy a fancy dinner.

While we're still compromising on which orifices you may and may not stick your fingers into during dinner, we are making great strides in the politeness department.

We're a work in progress but the girls totally dig it.

Stay Tuned for a 'shocking' Memory Monday. This time, (quite thankfully) it's not mine but too crazy not to share!

Thursday's Challenge and Promise...

2011-02-10T18:54:00.007-07:00

Before I get to the next challenge, I wanted to report on the one from 2 weeks ago. I had intended to do it last week but didn't, so sorry about the delay.

Last time, I challenged myself and any others interested in participating to bake something delicious and take it to your least favorite or least familiar neighbor.

I got this response from my sweet friend, Kelley.

"I took your challenge to heart. The very day I read your post (at 12:30 at night, by the way), I had had an altercation with my neighbor. I felt terrible about it, and didn't know how to resolve it. When I read your post, I knew exactly what I needed to do.

Though the next day was totally crazy, I took the time to make her a loaf of homemade bread. I stressed all day about taking it to her, but when I knocked on the door with the loaf, it was like the problem had never happened. I felt so much better, and I want to thank you for giving us that challenge. It was pure inspiration."

Thank you so much for sharing, Kelley. I must say though that I can't take credit. What you did was brave and an example of true charity. I'm not sure I could have done the same thing.

As for my experience, there are many faces I don't know in this neck of the woods. I think I need to do this a couple of times in the next few weeks and meet more people.

I picked my neighbor right next door. She is a first time mom by day and a yoga instructor by night. Adorable. I brought over pumpkin bread a little bit ago and have really enjoyed getting to know her.

I attended one of her yoga classes and discovered she's an amazing instructor. Even more, she's a great mom. Sometimes she sits outside with her baby boy and soaks in the sun on a lazy afternoon. Other times she'll just sit and swing while enjoying the moment with her boy. Watching her and getting to know her better is teaching me to slow down a bit and avoid being so frantic.

So, do I owe anybody some toilet paper?

This week's challenge comes as a reminder to myself. It's something I've felt I've been slipping away from.

I may have shared the advice a clergy member gave to us a few years ago: When someone comes home, make their entrance a big deal. Make them feel important by letting them know how excited you are to see their face.

We instituted this in our home during a time when, day in and day out, arriving meant leaving only a few minutes later for He-Man. Working 80+ hours a week was emotionally, physically and spiritually exhausting. The days seemed to blur together and we became a bit mechanical in our effort to muddle through it.

When we were given this advice we took it to heart and put it into practice.

The results were almost instantaneous.

I noticed an extra pep in my husband's step as he walked through the door...which makes sense considering he was expecting 5 adoring fans clambering for hugs and kisses. (Justin Beiber, you've gotten nothing on He-Man!) And after awhile, I noticed the kids watching me with smiles and anticipation to see how I reacted to the sound of his car pulling up.

Each of us knew what we were doing as a family so there was no secrecy. We hammed it up. There was a lot of 'Yay! Daddy's home!' as if he'd been gone for 2 weeks, much whooping and hollering and a lot of over-the-top slobbery kisses.

Someone else may want to play it a little cooler.

The time we had with him was still brief, but that first moment seemed to change the tone of our whole interaction.

So today, I recommit to dropping everything when he or one of my children walks through my front door after being away. I commit to an over-the-top welcoming that may make them roll their eyes because of the dramatics.

Here's the promise: It will change the mood in your home even if it's for a brief moment. Of course, I wouldn't recommend you greet your husband in only an apron and socks if he's bringing home dinner guests (however it's not a bad idea if it's only you and him in the house at the time). But I would encourage you to read his body language to determine what kind of welcome your guy needs at that moment.

If you make an effort to greet your person, whether it's your spouse, kids, roommate, etc. in a sincere and loving way and truly listen to what that person has to say in that time, you will connect with them for a glorious moment. It may be brief and it may take them a few days to notice, but trust me, they'll notice and appreciate you all the more for it.

Go on. I dog-double-dog dare you.

And the Winners Are...

2011-02-07T19:43:00.003-07:00

Happy Monday, my Lovelies!

As promised, tonight I'm revealing the winners of the January drawing...and they are:

Cathy Dover
Carina Anderson
Rosa Zerkle
Desiree Winz
Kirstin Card

If I don't have your mailing address, please send me a private facebook message OR leave a comment-it'll be deleted in moderation so I'll be the only one who sees it and it will never show up under the blog post. Thank you so much for coming out to play with me! Stay tuned for February's. I'm gonna come up with something great!

'The Emma', 'The Jenna' and An Update

2011-02-06T11:10:00.006-07:00

First of all, for those who participated in the January drawing and my challenge from over a week ago, I'm sorry for the delay. I got swamped this past week and have now started to get organized again. I'll be posting the winners of the January drawing tomorrow morning and reporting on the 'challenge' from a week and a half ago.

This blog post is dedicated to 3 beautiful people who have been in my thoughts a lot recently; My mom, Emma and Jenna. 3 people who have taught me, in the recent years, the powers of prayer and quiet support. To celebrate the amazing beautiful people they are, I created a couple of little somethings.

First of all,
"The Emma" Cupcake
(Made with Sunshine Yellow Birthday cake,
topped with Champagne Pink Frosting and garnished with a few precious little surprises.)

Emma was blessed by her Daddy one week ago today, but her story began many months before that.

Her sweet family and many, many people who already loved her were eagerly awaiting her arrival. Her parents and brother were making preparations for her birth and it was clear that this baby was coming to a family who'd lasso the moon for her.

Good things were happening for their family as they juggled day to day life like pros and Mommy danced that dance all Mommies do. They were even in the process of moving.

Then the unimaginable happened.

A lot us got an email that morning. I'm sure many of us had the same reaction:
Stomach Drop
Head Spinning
"She can't be born now. She's not ready."
30 weeks is too young.

It would be interesting to know how many knees dropped to the floor that day on behalf of that beautiful little baby, the tears that were shed, the hearts that ached for Timi and Cory and Jace.

The news only got worse.

More Prayers.

More frantic phone calls to closest friends, those who'd know best how to help.

Even more pleas for divine intervention.

More news, sometimes better, sometimes worse.

We were all clambering to know the latest, willing to mobilize, to act anyway we possibly could.

Days

Weeks

Months went by

And finally, she was 'out of the woods'.

Even now, it's just now becoming clear how close we came to losing our new little friend.

And yet, one week ago, as her Daddy held her in his arms, she was given a name and a blessing (common practice for babies born in our church). The words he spoke were sacred and beautiful. She's destined for greatness. She will continue to spread sunshine and happiness everywhere she goes. She's less than a year old but has already made a mark, teaching people to love and to have faith in power greater than their own.

About a year before, on the opposite side of the country, another sweet family faced a starkly similar scenario.

This is "The Jenna" Cupcake
(Pure White Vanilla cake,
topped with a swirl of Angel Kiss frosting and sweet summer berries)

It was years ago in Oregon when I met my friend Michelle. From the moment I met her, I knew she was kind, innately good and had a heart of gold. As years went on, we went on our adventures. Periodically, I'd check in with her family just to say hello.

Joy of joys! A year and a half ago, I discovered that she and her new husband lived in Utah about 45 minutes away AND we were both expecting our babies.

Ruby was suppose to be several months older.

But Jenna came 10 weeks early.

Oh how we prayed! We prayed for her and her Mom-who was dealing with complications of her own, and her sweet, gentle Daddy. We prayed for her grandma and grandpa who were states away when they got the news (I can not even imagine what they must have gone through!)

That precious baby with crystal blue eyes has been a fighter from the start. She fought hard. She has her Momma's strength, her indomitable spirit.

Jenna stayed in the NICU for months. Her Mommy's arms must have just ached for her baby.

Being so close, I wanted desperately to do something to help.

But what?!

I ended up bringing them a loaf of bread. I couldn't help but thinking for a moment, "What a measly offering considering everything they were going through!"

That kind of thinking is wrong.

My offering, the small loaf of bread, the prayers specifically for them, the messages of encouragement; they can be enough when there is absolutely nothing more we can do to help the people we love when they are dealing with life's swift jabs to the breadbasket.

Naturally, we want to ease their pain or even better, take it away.

Sometimes we can't...most of the time we can't.

It's not in our power, no matter how hard we try.

But we can do something.

What we can give is unique to who we are. We each have gifts that can ease another's burden-even if we can't take it away.

Perhaps it's taking cupcakes to nurses who are caring for loved ones.

Or

Making food for a spouse keeping a lonely vigil by a hospital bed.

Or

Maybe it's painting the toes of someone so pregnant they can't touch their feet.

Or

Perhaps it's offering loving words to frightened friends awaiting word on whether or not a parent is very sick...most amazingly, offering empathy and love while some of you are dealing with your own devastating loss as a result of such a vicious disease. (Girls, you know who you are. Your ability to truly buoy up others is a tribute to your character).

Sometimes it's giving an anxious family member, living across the world, something to read by regularly blogging while awaiting a possibly life altering diagnosis.

Which brings me to my Mom.

Friday night I heard the best words we could have hoped for. It's benign. Even more, in spite of the preliminary findings of a few weeks ago, the mass has not infiltrated the surrounding organs. It appears the removal procedure will be minimally invasive...uh, as minimally invasive as removing a mass from, well, never mind. You get the idea.

So tonight I ponder the power we have, as creatures with the capacity to love.

We also have the power to act.

Inevitably, in this world of ups and downs, sometimes we're up and sometimes we're down.

I can think of little else that will transcend us from a nominal, menial life than to use our individual gifts to lift those around us.

When the blows come to us, the treasures of those efforts come full circle as those we lift, in turn, lift us.

Thank you for your prayers and support for my mother in the past weeks during the waiting game. There are so many people, regardless of distance who I feel more connected to than ever.

Your friendship is priceless.

Thank you for sharing your remarkable gifts.

Now go have a blessed week.

Hollywood

2011-01-28T20:54:00.005-07:00

We love sunglasses.

When Sunshine was 2 we met the Miller Family and adored them instantly. Sunshine loved every single last one of that fabulous family. She particularly loved their oldest, Jes. Her eyes lit up whenever Jes walked into the room.

One thing Sunshine loved about Jes was her great fashion sense AND her fabulous sunglasses. Sunshine got into the habit of borrowing Jes' glasses, putting them on and waiting for Jes to look at her and say, "Hollywood!" She loved it every time. Eventually, she would put glasses on and exclaim, "Wooooood!"

7+ years and 3 more kids later, each one of our kids does the same thing, stealing someone's sunglasses and waiting for the "Hollywood" acknowledgement.

Ruby is no different.

This is her 'Hollywood' pose.

Way to leave your mark Jes. You are a star!

Thursday's Challenge and Promise...

2011-01-27T18:22:00.002-07:00

'Sprinkle Madness' by Timalee L.

I saw the BEST bumper sticker today. I've decided I need it in vinyl somewhere in my home. It said, "Love people, make them tasty food."

How awesome is that?

It got me thinking: Making food for people is one of the simple and great things we can do for others. World peace isn't balanced upon our shoulders nor do millions of spectators await our game winning point...and no one eagerly awaits seeing our faces on the big screen (which in my case is probably merciful to the masses right now considering the enormous zit that is currently taking over the right side of my chin.)

But, we get the chance to show the people we love the most just how delicious love (or at least it's honest effort) tastes.

Consider this. What if the world's leaders baked a loaf of plain old homemade bread for each other, making it with their own two hands? Don't you think that as long as they all washed their hands, didn't spit in it and refrained from the temptation to add anything noxious to it, they'd all be a little more willing to work with each other and respect differences?

Maybe it's crazy. It probably is. But how can you violently hate someone who bakes you a loaf of unadulterated home made bread?

Here's the challenge I'm making to myself and anyone who wants to conduct this experiment:

It's easy to bake something delectable for neighbors you love and know well. What if, you baked something for a neighbor you don't like OR one you don't know at all? I dog-double-dog dare you.

Here's the promise.

I promise your home will smell heavenly with the scent of homemade goodness.

AND

I promise your feelings about this person will change. In what way, I can't promise. You may find yourself considering them your best friend and making the commitment to dual custody of a new pet hamster.

Imagine pet store shopping with this person and all the fun it will be to nuzzle ferrets, guinea pigs and other rodents...although, you may have to make more than just a loaf of bread to make up for it if you accidentally kill it. I'm just sayin'.

You may want to be careful with that one.

Or

Your feelings of dislike may grow to tee-peeing and raw egg status.

However they change, they'll change. And if it's for the worse, I'll provide the toilet paper.

Are you in? I'll report in 1 week and would love to include your story.

Happy New Year! (and the Teaser Reveal)

2011-01-26T20:17:00.005-07:00

Alright, so it's a bit late. BUT, there's so much to be grateful for in the upcoming year and I wanted to put my New Year's Resolutions to proverbial paper...and give you the goods I teased about last night...so here's to getting it done before the year is 1/12 over!

First of all last year. One of my 2010 New Year's Resolution was to learn how to create pretty cupcakes. 12 months later, my cupcake making supply has multiplied exponentially, I understand cupcake lingo (word to yo' momma's grandson) and I can, indeed, frost a mean cupcake. (You should have seen the 'Sprinkle Madness' cupcakes my fabulous friend Timi and I created today! Sprinkle and sparkle explosion!)

My most important 2010 New Year's Resolution of truly understanding and feasting upon the New Testament is turning out to be a 2 year resolution; not for lack of work, but simply because I'm still learning so much. I love the history, the majesty and grace of this book. There are so many chapters I've felt desperate to reread because I want a greater understanding. I'm looking forward to reporting later on that. This is my Spiritual New Year Goal.

Now for the Nutritional Health New Year Goal. Around Halloween an epiphany hit me over the head like a bag of bricks. I strongly suspect that several of my children have a reaction to artificial food coloring. Food reactions are not new to our family. For example, one of our kids has been dealing with eczema highly suspected of being food related. SOOOOO, with the coerced and forced cooperation of my family, we are trying to avoid artificial food coloring as much as possible. Are we gonna be perfect?

Absolutely not.

But I figure if once or twice a month I let them have a treat, say like at a Boy Scout Court of Honor where EVERY stinkin' dessert has massive amounts of fake, fluorescence in it, I can still be safely in the 'Nice Mom' category AND collect enough raw (and sometimes ugly) data to determine if my suspicions are right.

Ooooooo! Easter's gonna be fun.

I'll be labeled a tyrant by Halloween.

As for my Physical Health, I have many lofty dreams of running in several races this year. First, I plan to run the Gate River here in Jax. Then this summer, I'll be revisiting the relay again with a team of 11 other illustrious runners (including He-Man...if he ever picks up his running shoes. YES! I'm talking to you!) and going the distance again. After that, if the Chicago Urbanathon has a woman's division, I'd like to run it while meeting The Flash there in the fall.

This goal is off to a rather shaky start considering I seem to have the knees of an eighty year old with a double knee replacement(...dang those hard core knee thwacking cheerleading moves!)

Now for the Giving to Others Resolution. I've decided to do all that I can to randomly bestow others with gifts to brighten their lives. Who doesn't love getting a random package in the mail or a surprise gift on their doorstep? How can you know feel loved by the world when someone anonymously leaves a fruit cake on your doorstep? I commit to doing this more, sans fruitcake...even if it's ridiculously random and terribly silly. And since YOU, old blogging buddy of mine, are so awesome, my goal is to have a monthly blog drawing since YOU are so FANTASTIC!

Then, here's the big one. It's the Big-Bang Resolution. Many of you are aware of my love for writing and my past ambition to submit my work...someday. For years I've been writing stories here and there, and even had a paid gig with He-Man's grad-school paper. I've always felt that someday, I would be able to have extra time to devote to this love. Someday often never happens. I've decided that time is NOW! I can not wait for that perfect time when nothing else is going on.

So, for the past few months I have been working on a project that is very near and dear to my heart. As I've researched, compiled my thoughts and created an outline, I have fallen absolutely in love with a story and it's characters. I have begun the writing process and my goal is to be done with my novel by the end of June.

He-Man committed to get the story published IF I get my sorry bum in gear and write it! So, whether we find a publisher or go the route of self publication, we'll begin the process when it's done. Now the job is to write, write some more and then some more.

Here's where my teaser from last night comes in. In the month of June, I will have a blog drawing to share a sample of my novel with a blogging buddy who is willing to give me honest feedback and input. I'm still working on what form that sample will take but it will be a good, solid sample. I'm so eager to share it.

Now for the fun January Drawing!

What you see before you are one of the fun things I have acquired during my cupcake making endeavor: flavor oils. You can find a few flavors at several local stores, but these flavors aren't as easy to find and were ordered straight from the company.

5 of my Blogging Buddies will be receiving 4 flavors from my January Drawing. There's a catch though. Those who want to be entered in the drawing must agree to emailing me or posting on their own blog or Facebook what they did with one of the flavor oils. Whether it's making hard candy, chocolate, frosting, or painting your fingernails with it, I wanna know! Pictures are great and I would love to post them on my blog.

All you have to do is let me know if you want to be in the drawing here or on facebook. Any comment between now and February 2nd will be considered an entry.

These little babies are so fun! I can't wait to share them!

Thankful for Lousy Pictures and a Teaser!

2011-01-25T20:38:00.006-07:00

I was watching the rain from my bedroom window this afternoon and noticed something. A few feet above the bottom of the floor length window, there was a nearly perfect little smudge composite of one of the cutest little noses and mouths I have ever seen. I was left pondering who the owner was for only a moment because the culprit soon stood right next to me and joined in the rain watching...

Bunny simply can not help but leave her cute little mark everywhere she goes...I put window smudges in my gratitude journal today.

And then there's this. I don't think He-Man has ever missed a State of the Union address since we've been married. I'm not quite sure at what point it happened, but I turned around during the commentary, and this is what I saw.

And since I'm in a daring mood, stay tuned for a BIG (slightly scary--good scary) announcement and a very fun give-away!

Memory Monday: The Youth in Asia-A Glimpse Into a Gift I Don't Possess...

2011-01-24T19:29:00.004-07:00

I am overwhelmed with love and gratitude for the support so many of you have given in the past few days. Please know I love you all and feel so grateful! Since yesterday's post was entirely too serious, I've been considering something significantly less intense to write about tonight. He-Man reminded me of a long repressed memory I thought I'd share...

Some people possess a very powerful gift. It's impressive, often enviable and many try very unsuccessfully to do it correctly. Sometimes it can leave onlookers, bystanders and active participants completely speechless. (which for some of us, is a big deal.)

Politicians throughout the history of time have been endowed with large concentrations of this gift.

Mr. George Wickham seemed to have been born with it.

This gift is the power of the schmooze. Often referred to as 'spinning a yarn' among other things, this is the art of crafting a tale so believable that anyone within earshot can not possibly question the validity of the schmoozer's statements.

I happen to be one of those people who doesn't possess such an ability and the following recollection beautifully illustrates this simple truth.

After a year of college, I transferred up to Weber State University in Ogden, Utah. The first day I was there, my car was broken into and my wallet and backpack were stolen. (I know, I know, serves me right for leaving them in my car).

I was already in a bad mood the next day when my classes began and decided to take a stand by refusing to purchase anymore of the required books unless and until I was sure I couldn't do without them.

The first couple of days went very well. I had most of my reading materials already and felt pretty confident I wouldn't need anymore until after payday, if at all. One particular, seemingly needless supplement was a book of essays for an English class.

I was convinced I could do without it. AND since our discussions on the materials were intended to be completely subjective, I was convinced I could schmooze my way through the class.

A couple of weeks went by before our first assignment was given from the essay book. Our teacher asked us to refer to page so-and-so and prepare an opinion piece about Youth in Asia.

Pshh...total and complete cake.

While this was before the world wide web (did I really just make myself sound like a dinosaur?!), I still had a library and could grab a couple of National Geographic Magazines on Asian culture or something and totally schmooze my way through it. I think I decided to go the direction of discussing the contributions the up and coming Asian population was bringing to our society.

That day got busy. I never got to the library. But I did get my hands on a random and vaguely relevant article, took a few notes and felt pretty darn good about the whole thing....and I hadn't even looked at the book.

I was the Queen Schmoozer. The Flash, who wowed his entire English class with an oral report on 'Uncle Tom's Cabin', a book he NEVER read, would be totally put to shame!

I was so excited to dazzle the class as I entered the room that day.

As it progressed, I became more and more eager for the opinion portion of our lesson and resisted the very strong urge to throw both my hands up in the air and volunteer to do my dazzling first.

It's a very good thing I did. Because as I listened to the first speaker giving his well conveyed opinion on the merits vs. the evils of Euthanasia, I realized I really, REALLY missed the mark.

Most of the rest of class was a blur but I do remember that my head started to spin, my legs went numb and I wanted to throw up. Minutes earlier, I was hoping to be asked for my very informed and articulate opinion. At that moment, I wanted to slink down, underneath my seat and stay there until the danger of being called on had passed.

I narrowly averted academic disaster that day because gratefully, I wasn't called on. A few hours later, I went to the bookstore and happily purchased the rest of my books and forever dashed any dream of wearing the 'Queen Schmoozer' crown.

It probably would have been encrusted with cheap plastic rhinestones anyway.

The Funk That Swallowed Up Disneyworld

2011-01-23T12:07:00.008-07:00

This week has been an emotional roller coaster. As it began, we found ourselves surrounded by sparkles, happiness and mutant sized rodents with perma-grins. Yep, we spent Monday in the Magic Kingdom at Disneyworld. It poured all morning.

It's funny to me how quickly ponchos and plastic bags become fashion forward during a torrential downpour. No one is laughing at you....even if your poncho is bright orange and decorated in Gators.

We're ALL suckas...who happen to be dry.

BUT, Big rain meant no lines. Awesome. And when the clouds parted, our appendages that weren't protected by plastic, eventually dried off as we frolicked through the park until the Closing Mass Exodus.

We drove home exhausted but happy, satisfied that it was the beginning of what was destined to be a great week.

Then Tuesday morning came around.

My mom called with an update. Since the summer, she's been dealing with a growth. Initially, it didn't seem like much and her doctor noted it would eventually need to be removed. However, in the past two weeks, her doctors have become more concerned because of it's location and size.

Okay, stop here.

I come from a long line of drama queens (we come by it ever so honestly) so as a gal recovering from DIDS (Damsel in Distress Syndrome) I've been trying to play it cool...so has my mama (who obviously comes from that same line).

The news that day wasn't awesome. Basically, she was waiting to go in for an expedited MRI and promised to call me when she heard back from the doctors.

{Bad mood funk coming on.}

Wednesday rolled around as usual. I had just finished some of the normal morning juggle when my mother called. The news was not encouraging. While her doctor/surgeons gave conflicting information, they were in agreement that the 'mass' looked very suspicious. It needed to be biopsied and taken out right away AND an oncology surgeon in the states would be required for the procedure.

The doctors have never conclusively said 'cancer' but essentially that's what they're preparing my mom for.

Our phone call was cut off and I got MAD. I cried. A lot. Two weeks of mounting concern and frustration with the unknown got the better of me.

I hate cancer.

Hate it.

I was so mad. Mad for the worry my mom was going through. Mad for beloved friends and family who have been robbed by it. Mad for so many who've recently been hurt by it's devastating effects. I was mad for Kim, Dedra, for Bishop Evans, Connie and their family, for Keturah and for Chad and Amber. Sooooo mad that my beautiful friend, Laura plays the waiting game every six months while she wonders, "Has it returned?" Mad that my friend Jamie faces the loss of some of her limbs because of it.

I wanted to scream, run, something, anything. Good grief I wish I had a punching bag or a karate chopping thingy.

So I did what any respectable, level headed and mature woman would do. I hosed down my bathroom and sterilized it from top to bottom. I finally called my other confidant (seeing as how I had just commiserated with the other) and finally came clean about what had been going on. Then I called my beautiful and strong survivor-friend. We talked and cried and somehow found a sense of peace in all of this.

Laura helped me realize something else I hadn't considered before. As awful as it was for us to be preparing for what may come with these developments, there are people who love us and who've had to stare that ugly beast in the face again, who go through the fight again when they face it with us. They have the purest form of empathy because they've been there.

Revisiting that place must be painful and yet they do because they love us.

I'd like to say my week got better; that I was able to snap out of the funk and get back to life. Unfortunately, the conversation on Wednesday was followed by the inevitable conversations about the 'what ifs'. Those really, really stink.

Which only made me crankier.

Until today.

I was reminded of a few simple truths that will never change:

1. The supernal power of prayer is universal. However a person chooses to do it, whatever religious beliefs one ascribes to, prayer changes things; whether it moves physical mountains or simply aligns your own will to a greater sense of peace, it's real. And there are many, many people out there who are just waiting for the 'go' to pray for us. It's an amazing thing, really.

2. We are surrounded by God's love. Even when faced with the scary prospect that parents aren't immortal, there are reminders that we are desperately and wholly loved. We will have fights to fight in this life but we never, ever do it alone.
Even when we insist upon it.

So now we wait. We wait for more conclusive results from the biopsy as my parents prepare for a mandatory trip to the states. We wait to see what further action needs to be taken.

My mother has asked me to be her sunshine. She needs me to be happy. I have a responsibility to lift her up during this process.

So now I'm gonna shake this funk.

I'm turning around, looking it in it's squinty, little beady eyes, putting my jazz hands up to my ears, sticking out my tongue and giving it a great big zerbit.

Here's to a good week.

Thank you, my fellow Moms-Extraordinaires!!

2011-01-16T13:40:00.002-07:00

I just wanted to send a shout-out to all of my thoughtful friends who offered input into our little Tooth Fairy Conundrum. As I read and considered everyone's opinion, it became very apparent that I have a group of friends who are extraordinary and loving parents.

Hats off to you, Everyone!

Little Purple Pansies Touched With Yellow Gold...

2011-01-14T17:42:00.007-07:00

One of my very favorite people in all of Florida is my friend Maggie. The other day, she brought us over a wonderful housewarming gift....

We were in total agreement over where these ought to go...the flower boxes under the windows!

There simply is just one thing to do in a situation such as this.

One must dig out their old Miss Teen of Utah Pageant dress from the 10th grade...

(Which is another reason to adore Maggie, she's helped me to see the error of my past puffed sleeved and bow-front bodice ways)

And invite all of my forest friends over for a tea party.

Only, I forgot the window box planter.

Have I mentioned how much I love window boxes?

Have I mentioned how much I dislike skunks?

The skunks are soooo not invited.

A Conundrum...

2011-01-12T13:03:00.002-07:00

This morning 6 year old Bunny was watching one of her favorite shows, "Super Why" on PBS.
Wyatt and his storybook friends chose a story about the Tooth Fairy...

Which was awesome, considering the
frequent visits she has made to our home recently.

We love the Tooth Fairy. Although she may be conflicted over how much to give our sweet little ones, often having internal struggles within herself over how much she should give, she always manages to bring big toothless grins to our children. Who cares if she's schizophrenic?

Here's the conundrum. When she saw that they were telling a story about the Tooth Fairy, she exclaimed, "Wow, Mom! That's amazing! This is the first time 'Super Why' has told a story about someone who is in real life! Mostly, it's about 'Jack and the Beanstalk' or 'Cinderella' but today it's about the Tooth Fairy, who we really know in real life!!"

Mom, (big gulp!): "That's an interesting observation, Honey! You are so clever!"...

Perhaps I'm over thinking it but I've heard of children being really stressed out about this kind of thing a little later on in their upbringing.

So often we ask them to have faith in people and universal truths they can not see.
Is it fair to perpetuate a myth for the sake of childhood innocence? Is it appropriate once they have the cognitive ability to think these kinds of things through to keep on harboring that big, earth shattering secret? 6 years old seems too young for that kind of information.

Please...discuss!

Memory Monday: Letting Sleeping Dogs Die...I mean Lie

2011-01-10T22:49:00.003-07:00

This post is a little twisted. Okay, a lot twisted.

You've been warned.

I was reminded recently of a memory faded by time yet still a bit horrifying. As I recall this memory, I must admit some of the details may be a bit sketchy. I guess it's probably better for the guilty parties that I don't remember much and have no contact with any of the people I knew back then.

(Hazy image)
Logan, Utah: 1984 or 85ish. Dad was in grad-school for his Master's and we lived a small neighborhood that provided us with many adventures. These of course, were not limited to The Flash headbutting an on-coming car and Captain America and I in a constant struggle to permanently maim each other. But more on those later...

His name was Travis. Or Tyler. Or maybe even Trevor. He was a bit rough around the edges, to put it mildly. He was in my kindergarten and first grade classes at Ellis School. I knew him better than many of my classmates because his grandma lived right around the corner from our home and he played there often.

One particular afternoon during recess, he gathered a group together to invite us over to his grandmother's house for milk and cookies. What's more is that his grandmother wasn't home which meant: UNLIMITED COOKIE ACCESS! He also mentioned that his grandma buried several dead pets in the backyard and for the main event, he'd show us a few.

I'm not sure which lured me over to his house that afternoon; the promise of enough cookies to spoil my dinner or the morbid curiosity of exhumed dead things. It's hard to say. One thing is clear. I went there on my own 6 year old accord.

When I arrived, there were already several children gathered, following my classmate who was carrying a shovel twice his size, which he had difficulty lugging around. After the promised cookies, he didn't spend much time with dilly-dally and set straight to work. To plunge the shovel into the earth, the most likely seriously disturbed kid had to throw his whole body weight into the shovel.

First was a dog. I think I blocked the image from my mind. All I remember is fur.

Then came a cat. Poor cat. It gives new meaning to 'rest in piece...s.'

I think there may have been a gerbil in there somewhere.

It was classic scene, not unlike one from a movie like 'The Sandlot": a gaggle of horrified kids circling around a particularly heinous sight, gasping with a whole lot of 'eeeewwwws!', 'Augghhh!' and 'GROSS'!

There were a couple more before he got too tired to dig anymore. Which, unfortunately for his grandma, meant he was too tired to returned the exhumed pets to their final resting places.

Having recently watched the movie, 'Where The Red Fern Goes' at the USU theater and crying uncontrollably by the end, I should have considered that the writer of such a tale, as well as that unsuspecting grandmother, never expected anyone to dig up what was under that red fern, that new sapling tree and that delicate rose bush.

What's even worse is now, as a grown-up, I CAN NOT imagine what that grandma saw when she came home from her Bridge party or Bingo night. It probably looked like a scene from "Milo and Otis: When Zombie Dogs Attack!".

I wonder what she discovered first, her empty cookie jar or her still very dead furry friends coming back for a visit?

One thing's for sure. Never underestimate an underaged mortician with a shovel.

Domestic's New Year's Thoughts...

2011-01-02T18:19:00.018-07:00

This road sign brought to you compliments of my in-laws. Could it be any more awesome?

I'm FINALLY signing back in! After moving into our home (...totally worth the wait), hosting my in-laws for 2 wonderful weeks, as well as a Christmas shin-dig and successfully navigating through Christmas, I had a blissful moment to reflect upon the past 2 months since I last posted.

AND upon reflection, I panicked from the overwhelming feat of literary genius it would take to properly articulate the twists, turns, delights, despairs
and emotions that we've experienced in the past 2 months. It caused me to run from my computer screaming.

I'm done hyperventilating now and feel equal to the task of looking forward to a new year with the determination to write, write and write some more instead of fretting over just how behind I am.

So in the words of a great and wise monkey (who I wish could be my own monkey friend) "Put your behind in the past", I will catch up and look ahead.

So how are WE doing you may ask.

Pretty darn good.

We LOVE our home. We are in absolute house love. I grew up in the military and developed a fear of long term commitment which includes but is not limited to home ownership. This house is a home I can see our family growing up in.

I love this pantry door!!

This picture doesn't do the backyard justice!

I love this little nook!
I'm happy to report the
wall on the left
is no longer bare.

This was an attempt to capture the sunset over
the waterfront by our home.

We just spent two GLORIOUS weeks with He-Man's parents.

Hosting parties feels fun again and Christmas was even better.

(Our backyard Nativity play)

St. Augustine still ROCKS.

Except for the porta potties outside of Ft. Marion. Those are just. Quite frankly, much to the chagrin of LuLu, I'm not sure there is anything I'm willing to fish out of a porta-potty. I don't care how cute it looks in her hair!

After the second annual Connect 4 Tournament, He-Man remains the champion.

Joining us this time were Rip Van Nacnud: The Senior Citizen and M.O.A.N.: Mother of all Nacnuds (These are, of course, their official American Gladiator names).

The Jax Beaches, all though a little chilly, did not disappoint.
Doesn't my M.I.L. look divinely like Julie Andrews?

Year 1 in Jax: Highs Vs. Lows

2010-11-01T13:29:00.002-06:00

Since I prefer gazing longingly upon the donut and not upon the hole, I'll redeem each Low with the opposite High...

LOW: Pulling up to an unfamiliar home in an unfamiliar town and within hours, partying like it's Halloween 2009 within a sea of unfamiliar faces. I can't be sure when I checked out that night; between scrubbing our new, filthy floor or allowing my kids to take candy from complete and total strangers or maybe it was the utter shock of being barely post postpartum and moving my new baby through the Swine-Flu invested country. Whatever the reason, I'm pretty sure I was catatonic.

HIGH: Exactly a year later, looking out into that same sea of faces and feeling so much appreciation for the beautiful people that have become our Jax Family. Interestingly, I had spent the day scrubbing that same floor...only this time, it was OUR mess.

LOW: Winter in Jax was record breakingly cold last year...so cold that it stayed at freezing for weeks. That didn't stop our community from continuing to water the dead, frozen grass which provided us with a frightening skating rink for us to glide through on our way to the bus stop.

HIGH: During one of these death-defying trips, after dropping our older two girls, Lulu, Ruby and I carefully walked home. That day I noticed, for the first time, the truly unique and vastly different plant life of our new home. We walked past the most stunningly beautiful holly bush that had been pruned into a tree. The way the sunlight peered through the lush, green branches and highlighted the deep red of the berries made my heart happy. It may sound silly and trite, but that glorious moment, and the near perfect mental picture that remains was a turning for me. It was the first time I remember feeling a sense of hope that all would be well. We would fall in love with this place and the bleak loneliness would ease. It did.

LOW: Upon arrival to our destination, we discovered He-Man wouldn't be paid his first pay check until right before the new year. Moving across the country on our own dime...surrendering all patients to other doctors...draining our account on living expenses...not being paid for 2 months-right before Christmas...Oih. Those weeks served us a heaping helping of anxiety with a side of nausea.

HIGH: When He-Man filled his position so many things changed. My husband came home at night and stayed home. Once he started getting paid, we began paying off the debts we accrued with our move as well as past business and living expenses. He began coming home happy and stress free. Our family finally has our Daddy back!

LOW: The discovery of noxious and aggressive pests indigenous to the area. He-Man arranged for us to tour one of the Naval ships some of his patients were stationed on. While waiting to board, we stood on the grass taking pictures and watching the ship from the shore. Without warning, I felt dozens of piercing bite-like sensations all over my ankles, feet and up my legs. Apparently, I had unknowingly stepped on a Fire Ant hill. The pain didn't stop that night. For the next 3 weeks, those awful bites would wake me in the middle of the night because they burned so bad.

1 word: cockroaches. Y-U-C-K!

HIGH: The other gritters that make Jax their home are really quite wonderful. Geckos, frogs and dragonflies are all over the place here. One of my favorite things about the past year has been walking outside at night and hearing the frogs croaking near the pond. That is a sound that can soothe me to sleep.

LOW: Probably the lowest part about living in Florida is being so far away from family.

HIGH: Being so far away from some of our other family has meant we've been able to become closer to other family members. Case in point: The Atlanta Incredibles. They know who they are...yet, I'm not sure they know just how utterly and completely fabulous they are.

Atlanta has quickly become our second home and I find myself often giddy at the prospect of going back.

I'm happy to illustrate the highs and lows of the past year. It shows that there are significantly more highs than there are lows...which means blooming where we've been planted will be even easier.

A Year's Lessons (hopefully) Learned...

2010-10-27T20:30:00.004-06:00

1. We officially have what is considered a large family outside of Utah.
It never fails. Every time I go to Costco, people stop me in the aisle to inform me of the largitude of my family. It often comes as a compliment followed by doting, to which 3 year old Lulu will respond to by turning around, as she's walking away, and winking at men (usually grandpa-ish looking ones). Not often, but sometimes, I've found that there are people who take personal offense to the healthy functioning of my womb. It's okay though. Perhaps there are some who fear a hostile world take-over by happy chatterboxes intent on making you smile...even if it means holding you down and zerbiting your naked belly until you giggle. (We've cracked some of the hardest cases)

2. With 4 children, it's nearly impossible to have a perfectly clean house, dinner on the table and a well-rounded daily homeschool education. I say 'nearly' because there are some days when I hold my breath, turn red, stomp my feet and have a melt-down temper tantrum because I believe there has to be a transcendent day in there somewhere!

3. Speaking of returning to a normal skin color, counting to ten and putting my big-girl panties back on (thanks, Deanna, for that beautiful and articulate analogy), No, not everyone is going to like you, even if you were to show up at their doorstep with fresh fruit and warm bread and a list of what makes you completely adorable...I feel the hyperventilating again.

No really, it's okay. I'm remembering and re-remembering that there is only One person I need to worry about liking me. After that, everything else falls into place.

4. But speaking of bread. I'm beginning to suspect that many of the world's ills would heal if more people were willing to bake bread for each other AND personally deliver it. They may not like you, as referenced in #3, but their inclination to utterly destroy you may ease up a bit.

5. Spouses who were comatose the first time around can watch a movie the second time and be completely and utterly surprised by the ending.

I've come to discover He-Man does not remember a single movie we watched in grad-school. We've got a lot of catching up to do.

6. If the clothes don't fit in the store's dressing room, they still won't at home.
Those of us hour-glass figures (aka: ME) need to realize that tops that end an inch of two above the hips should be avoided at all cost as you will look like one, enormous boob. Don't be a cautionary lesson in mammology!!

7. Speaking of clothes, studded blouses may sparkle when light reflects but that's not necessarily a good thing...unless you're a retiree AND on an exotic cruise. And good friends will tell you so. (A shout-out to Timi, Maggie, Leigh Anna and Jamie).

8. I LOVE Anthropologie. It gives me hope of someday becoming fashionably reasonable.

9. Hard work does pay off and those who do so much of it are heroes in the eyes of their family. I'm still not sick of He-Man coming home at 4 and staying home with us. Hasn't gotten old once!

10. Children need no encouragement to know that de-pantsing people is funny.
Apparently, de-pantsing mannequins in JC Penney is even funnier.

11. If you don't truly feel truly at home in your own home, you probably won't feel completely whole.
But, the prospect of being at home in a place of warmth and goodness can keep you going for a very, very long time.

12. Sometimes, after losing a large amount of money can best be chalked up as '2010's Stupid Taxes'. Looking at it any other way may lead to uncontrollable twitching.

It still hurts. A lot. But sometimes it's a blessing in disguise.
Example: Previously mentioned new home.

13. It really doesn't matter where you are, being with your family means you are home. How can I complain about the cockroaches, fire ants, yard filled with dead sod when all I need is right here.

I still want to complain...just a little bit.

14. Financial/Job Security is not the end of trial and difficulty.

A Year In Review...

2010-10-27T20:06:00.004-06:00

Almost exactly 4 years ago Sunshine, Bun and I pulled up to Orem, Utah while He-Man stayed behind in Oregon to finish his last portion of school finals, exams and clinic requirements.

Three years to the day later, we pulled away from our lovely home with two more children and a sense of great anticipation.

It was a year ago we were half-way between Utah and Jax, sick with the Swine Flu and burning through Texas. With a plan to pull into our new driveway the day before Halloween. We were all excited to chase He-Man's dream job across the country. I was particularly eager to set up our home and had mentally placed every piece of furniture in it's proper place in the home we selected but had never seen live.

After driving all day, we pulled up in the afternoon, met our Realtor in the driveway and walked into the home.

Our hearts sank. The house was trashed. Half out of respect for the home and an eagerness to kick of my shoes, I left my shoes at the door. Within a few steps, I could feel the bottom of my feet covered with dirt.

The landlord breezed in and quickly handed us our 12-month lease and waited for us to sign. And sign we did.

While I could say it was a big mistake, I don't think I can honesty believe it. We've made too many friendships with neighbors for the entire experience to be a wash.

I will say this though. It only took a few hours and a survey of the house for us to realize it was going to be a long, long year in this house.

Now, with our Halloween costumes piled on top of the coffee table and boxes scattered through the house, we prepare to move...but not just into any house, but what I'm convinced is THE house.

Many of you are aware of the ordeal house hunting has been . That's a story for another time. While we'll be living in between a hotel and family's home for a month, I'm happy to report we'll be moving home at the beginning of December.

In the meantime, I thought I'd put the year in a nutshell. It's so funny, I've always been a rose-colored-glasses type of a person but if this past year has taught me anything, it's that life isn't perfect and that's okay. Even more, it's okay to admit that perfection has alluded me...(must. stop. hyperventilating...I'm still working on it's application).

So, I'm breaking this blog post up into parts because it's gonna be long winded. I'm going to share my 'HIGHS', my 'LOWS', and the lessons I'm still trying to learn...

Sunday Morning Funny...

2010-10-24T20:06:00.002-06:00

In the last few years, I've developed a love for fishnet stockings and textured tights. They add a little flare to an outfit that's missing 'just a little something'.

A few Sundays ago, as I dressed for church, I debated:

Black or Nude fishnets? (My outfit would have worked with either)

I picked nude.

During the third hour, I noticed a couple of elderly ladies sitting together and decided to join them. As I sat, one of them said, "Oooooo, la, la! Fishnets!" The other responded, "Back in the day when we were young, fishnets meant something completely different than they do now".

"Oh." I said, not knowing quite how to respond.

The other, obviously wanting to avoid an awkward pause replied, "Well, at least you didn't wear black ones!"

Seriously! Who wears black fishnets anyway?! (dodged another bullet!)

Sunday Morning Talk on Charity....

2010-10-23T22:15:00.003-06:00

I'm speaking in church this morning and I thought I would share what I've prepared on the subject of Charity...

I’m grateful for the opportunity to talk on Charity because it gives me the chance to reflect on many of the beautiful expressions of the Pure Love of Christ that have been shown me and my family. It renews the love and connection I feel towards so many of these people, who throughout my life have shown me by example the true meaning of Charity.

It’s everywhere. Here on this earth, we are surrounded by reminders of the perfect and supernal love our Savior has for us. And the more we do to reflect the constant reminders around us, the more others are able to see it as well. And the more people are able to see, the closer they can become to their loving Heavenly Father and their Savior, Jesus Christ.

Moroni 7:45-47 Charity

“Charity suffereth long and is kind, and envieth not, and is not puffed up, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil, and rejoiceth not in iniquity but rejoiceth in the truth, beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things…”

This passage is, of course, a perfect description of what the Pure Love of Christ is. It can also serve as a guide to living a whole and purpose-filled life. It condenses an entire self-help manual into 3 verses of scripture:

1. It tells us what it is: The Pure Love of Christ.

2. It shows us what attributes we should have in order to refine such a character trait: suffereth long, is kind, not easily puffed up

3. It shows us the benefit of such a quality: Faileth Not AND those who possess it, it will be well with them. The possibilities of what ‘well’ translates into are endless and probably incomprehensible for our earthly minds to understand.

How do we attain ‘Charity’ in our lives? Once we have it, how can we increase the level of Charity we have for others? Because no matter what season of life we are in, no matter what our charitable contributions to the world are, we can always do more.

Perhaps it starts with understanding what it is, then doing all in our power to thread it into the very fiber of our souls.

In teaching seminary and institute, educators often try to teach their students how to ‘capture’ scripture; how to truly apply the principles to themselves, in other words, liken the scriptures unto them. Moroni 7:45-47 is one of my favorite scriptures to ‘capture’ partly because the words make it so easy. All you have to do is, replace the word charity for YOUR name. Let me demonstrate with my own family…

As we come to identify the definition of charity, we are able to recognize it in action. Sometimes we will see it in others. Sometimes we witness the blessings of acts of charity. And sometimes, we may even see ourselves as the receptacle of the Lord showing His love for others. So as you go through your week, I encourage you to watch for those moments and in the meantime, here are some observations of my own.

First of all, Charity suffereth long and is kind.

Example: Corrie Ten Boom and her account of “The Hiding Place”

Next, Charity is not easily provoked, even when we want to be…

When we first moved to our community we were warned about the ‘grumpy’ man at the end of the cul-de-sac. I had never met him, just heard horror stories from the neighborhood children.

As time when on and I became a little more comfortable, I allowed our older children to meet some of the neighbors and branch out a bit. The response was mostly positive with the exception of the first interaction with this man. The neighborhood children were playing near his home, had angered him and he lashed out.

A few weeks later, our oldest wanted to take a break and asked if she could ride her bike around the cul-de-sac for some fresh air, which she did. While she was out there, the man came storming out of his home and gave our daughter a few choice words. When I asked Sunshine what it was that he was so upset about, she looked at me with utter bewilderment because she didn't know either.

By this time, I was getting concerned.

About a month later, a similar scenario occurred only this time, he has very choice words for our daughter and her parents.

At that point we decided to discuss the problem and find a solution. We determined that perhaps something happened that may have set our neighbor off, that the kids needed to apologize for. Since our daughter was the only one of the circle of friends home at the time, she went alone. She came back only a few minutes later flustered and near tears. When she tried to apologize, the neighbor became harsh and once again left her humiliated and confused.

At that point I had had it!

I protracted my Mother Bear Claws, put my super intimidating game face on and was preparing to turn our neighborhood into an episode of ‘Wild Kingdom’.

As I walked nearer and nearer to his home, a little voice reminded me of the recent talk, “You Are My Hands” by Elder Uchtdorf. It reminded me that my actions should be reflective of what the Lord would have me do.

At first, I didn’t want to listen. I was mad. I felt completely justified in giving that guy a piece of my mind. But that voice persisted and I stopped foaming at the mouth and shaking with anger.

While I can’t say all of my anger left me by the time I approached him, I can say greater forces than my own, showed me a clearer picture of who this man was. He was a son of a loving Father in Heaven who at that moment needed kindness and long suffering, even if I didn’t think he deserved it.

By the end of the conversation, I understood where our neighbor was coming from. He was concerned about the safety of unsupervised children in our neighborhood. Out of love and care for his community and worry for these kids, he began to feel overwhelmed by what he felt was a lack of supervision.

After hearing his perspective, instead of seeing him as an ogre, I saw him as a man, who without children of his own, had a fathering heart.

Later that day, we determined to take him some homemade bread and a note thanking him for caring for the kids in our neighborhood.

A few days later, he went door to door, apologizing to parents for frightening and upsetting their children, showing charity to the people around him.

I can take no credit for the way this all played out. Our Savior, Jesus Christ, showed His pure love to this man. He softened his heart. Had I stayed unwilling to do what that still same voice pleaded for me to do, I would have robbed our neighbor of feeling the Savior’s love for him.

Lastly, Charity seeketh not her own.

Queen Esther of the Old Testament illustrates this beautifully. Facing the possibility of death, she defied not only social norms but also the very laws of the kingdom to save her beloved people. It may have been more comfortable and safe for her to stay quiet but she knew the grievous task was hers to bare:

Esther 4:13-14, 5:2-3

As you can see, Charity, the pure Love of Christ, has been evident since the dawn of civilization. Amazingly, though it is idea of antiquity it has the same merit and importance today. Each child of our Heavenly Father benefits from the knowledge of the love He has for them. We, as people who know of that love, have a responsibility to share it.

May we all truly do just that.

Memory Monday on Wednesday: Naked on the Nightly News...

2010-10-19T20:46:00.005-06:00

A few months ago, I was sitting with my friend, Rhoda before a meeting, discussing her stint on the local news earlier that day. We were laughing about news appearances we've made, during which I interjected, "I was naked on the nightly news once...."

Unfortunately, that was when our meeting started and I never got to explain myself. And no, I wasn't one of those crazies attempting to bring attention to the national belly button lint problem as I ran across the local baseball field during a televised game. I don't even like baseball all that much.

I decided that the first chance I got, I'd qualify that statement. Rhoda, this one's for you.

About a decade ago, I found out I was pregnant with our first baby. The following months were filled with happiness, celebration and whole a lot of munchies, fast food I didn't have to smell cooking in my own kitchen and midnight snacks. During that time, He-Man had earned his massage therapy license and decided that before going to chiropractic school, he would further his training and specialize in prenatal massage.

Being the dutiful and supportive wife that I am, with no shred of personal interest in the matter, I stood by him %100. Okay, I didn't really stand. It was more like I laid on his newly purchased massage table expecting hours of practice.

He got the hint and when registering for a special training opportunity enthusiastically informed the visiting specialists that his wife was pregnant and already benefiting from newly learned techniques. I was in the room as they casually asked him if I would be willing to be a demonstration model for hours of massage practice, to which I, with great dignity and suaveness, obliged.

We shortly found ourselves in Salt Lake City for the training. Once there, I modeled. However, what I envisioned as hours of endless massage was actually lying on a massage table in a drafty room covered by a couple of sheets for hours, while the instructors instructed and the learners learned...with an occasional massage demonstration. It got very boring very fast.

Then I found out that the local news would be coming later that day to interview us. I was mostly excited...except for that logical little voice inside my head that was trying to remind me that I'm not awesome when it comes to on-the-spot public speaking. I'm really, really not. I squashed that voice like a little bug and said, "Self, be stunning and dazzle them with your whit and charm."

After a coat or two of extra lipstick and a fresh application of mascara, I had practiced seriously smart responses to a barrage of potential questions. And so, KSL came in with their cameras and their health investigative reporter interviewing several key members of the group.

Then they turned the cameras on me and asked me about my massage experience. With the lights and camera on my face, my brilliantly witty responses to all the radical expose questions left and my mind went blank. Like a deer with eyes hypnotized by headlights, my hair jostled and lipstick smeared on my face I stared, unable to think of anything to say.

It was at that moment as I desperately grasped for something to say, I finally replied to the question.

"It's so...

so...

alleviating"

Seriously. After all of that, that's what I came up with.

Brilliant.

The moment those words escaped my lips, I saw He-Man grimace and try to cover the pain on his face. From the camera crew and interviewer, silence.

Talk about ground breaking.

I spent the rest of the afternoon begging and praying that my naked guest appearance was cut on the editing room floor. That night I anxiously awaited the broadcast with He-Man, Jamie and Jonathan by my side. If my social life was going to end, at least I would have the support of my closest friends.

Finally 10:00 pm rolled around and I agonized as we heard the headlines and the weatherman give the weather. Finally, it was time to listen to the report, annnnndddd....commercial break.

Slow, painful death.

The moment arrived and I was watching familiar faces discussing the benefits of prenatal massage. Suddenly, the camera panned over my very large prengo belly from a very unflattering angle...then a shot of my lipstick smeared, mascara smashed face....but gratefully, NO SPEAKING PARTS! I dodged a bullet.

But only for a moment.

The rest of the evening passed with spontaneous outbursts of 'alleviating' jokes.

To this day I've never lived it down.

As an added bonus, about a month later, as I walked into the office at work, a co-worker enthusiastically greeted me with excitement over seeing me on television. She went on to marvel at how large my pregnant belly was especially considering I was only a few months along. I guess all those munchies and midnight snacks really do add ten pounds on the camera.

At least I got to keep a shred of my dignity. And that, my friends, is very alleviating indeed.

More tomorrow...

2010-10-17T20:23:00.001-06:00

I'm ready to start blogging again. It's been a while but I've made the commitment to do more writing. I'll return tomorrow with Memory Monday...after this awesome/blasted Benedryl buzz wears off...