From the Top of the Stairs

Where I've Been...

2012-02-03T21:38:00.006-07:00

As some of you who are friends with me on Facebook know, I lost my mind a few months ago and decided that working full-time and being a mom were not nearly enough to keep me busy. After all - the hours between 2:15 a.m. and 5:30 were not booked!

Whatever was a girl to do?! Well, if you were this girl, and you were smack dab in the middle of a class you were taking at the university called "Personal Finance," you got really scared about the fact that you and your husband were going to be forced to become the old people who live off of canned cat food in your retirement - but only if you've been diligent about clipping coupons. Otherwise, be quiet and chew your kibble!

This class was excellent, and I think it's one that should be required of all high school seniors. I remember when I was in high school (wayyyyy back in the day), our "financial training" consisted of being required to write out fake checks (no problem... I can totally write out fake checks, even to this day!) and balance a fake check register in Mr. Olaveson's (he who was too busy chatting with the jocks to help anyone with a question) math class with nary a budgeting lesson in sight. I was now prepared to survive on my own!

And survive I have, sometimes by the skin of my teeth. However, I thought it would be good to take this class and maybe learn a few things I hadn't yet picked up in the 20+ years since high school. Plus it fulfilled the Depth Social Science requirement that I needed towards my degree (also 20+ years in the making), and seemed more relevant to my needs in life than "Western European Politicians and the People Who Love Them" or something similar, so sign-up I did...

So what was my main take-away lesson? We will never be ready for retirement, and our best hope is that Jesus returns to sweep us up to heaven before then or we will indeed be those sad Friskies-eating octagenarians.

One of our in-class exercises was to figure out what we need to keep our current standard of living, what we expect to get from Social Security (hahaha... excuse me while I try to stop my tears of laughter), what our savings and liquid assets amount too (sorry - here comes another hysterical fit of laughter), and how many years left until we can retire to calculate - TA DA! - the amount we should be putting into our retirement accounts each MONTH.

Are you ready for this? (Because I certainly wasn't).

To live at the same standard we currently do (have you seen my house? the Taj Majal it's not!) - we need to be actively saving $1800 per month. That's right: One Thousand, Eight Hundred George Washington's EVERY. SINGLE. MONTH. That's $21,600 every. single. year. That's more than half of my salary!

Anyhoo, plagued by nightmares of our future, I decided it was time to quit "pussy-footing around" as my grandma would have said, and get serious about finishing up my degree, so I plan on taking at least 2 classes every semester and should finish up in just over 4 years (Whoo-hoo - I'm almost a junior! Just three-tenths of one credit away...).

Which leads me to the whole point of this long, winding story:

Last night I came home from work to find Savannah on my laptop.

"I need you to get off of there so I can do my homework," I said.

"Give me a minute," she said, rolling her eyes.

So I went in the bathroom to change into my comfy pajamas. Unfortunately, while I was in there one of my sadly-neglected novels that I'd been reading before classes started whispered to me from it's perch: "Psstt... over here. Just a few pages won't hurt ya. You'll like it..." But you know how it is... One page turns into another, and then it's just a slippery slope to an all-nighter on the bathroom floor, butt numb as it sits on the bath-mat, your eyes weepy because you just cannot believe that's how the author ended the book after all you've given up for it.

Resigned to my fate, I had just turned another page when Savannah knocked on the door and then entered.

"Why aren't you doing your homework?" she asked, eyeing me sitting indian-legged on the floor, book in hand.

"But I'm soooo tired, and I just wanted to relax for a minute," I ~~whined~~ replied in turn.

"Don't make me count to five!" she snapped and then started the count-down as I scurried to my computer, her no-nonsense eyes boring a hole in my back.

She's going to make a fine mother some day! But will she help carry our bags of kitty-food when we're older?

Top 10 (but who's counting?!) of 2011

2012-01-07T23:55:00.001-07:00

Lately I've been pathetic about practicing my photography, as well as blogging. Actually, I've been pathetic about a lot of things , and I don't know why. Hopefully the start of a new year (along with taking not one - but two! - classes at school) will help get me going again. Or leave me blubbering and talking to myself in a corner. Either way... :o)

Anyhoo, over at You Capture this week the photo assignment is to show your top 10 images from the last year. Now that I can do... I've tried to not repeat others I used earlier in the year, but some of them I couldn't resist sharing again. I know it's a few more than 10, but I did narrow it down from 40 or so (you're welcome!).

So, in no particular order, here are mine:

Here, nature's own version of sepia tone.

Savannah and some friends at her 12th birthday party had me taking tons of pictures. Looking back at them all now, this seems especially poignant as they're all walking away from childhood and entering those "tween" years. I can't believe how much these girls have all grown and matured these past few months. The time flies by much too quickly for my tastes...

Our adorable little Fiona... I can't believe how much I still miss her!

Couldn't resist this shot of our flowering crabapple tree, right after it snowed. In May. Welcome to Utah, people.

Braden - My crack-up of a son. You can just see the personality sparkling in his eyes!

I couldn't resist reshowing this picture of my Dad and his owner, Tiny. :o)

Evan... How'd I get such handsome, fun boys?!!!

Savannah and the new trampoline. If I would let her live on that thing, I believe she'd do it.

Summer in Paradise... It truly doesn't get much better than this.

Savannah's little friend at the zoo... Even though these little prairie dug bubbles were horribly hot, I had to drag her away.

Another repeat, but I still can't get over the emotion I feel from this photo.

My first encounter with a hummingbird (or sphinx) moth. I had never seen one before, but they are so cool! They're huge and, like a hummingbird, their wings beat breathtakingly fast. I never thought I'd say it, but I think I now have a favorite insect!

Finally, a picture of my goofy daughter. I love this picture just because I can feel her personality shining through so much.

I have a tendency to take more landscape photos, I think because they're so much easier. Mountains and trees don't make faces or groan when you take their photos like my family does. However, going through the photos from the last year, my definite favorites are those photos of people that are not staged but show the emotion. My goal for the next year is to expand on catching those day-to-day moments. And hopefully I'll have a few more posted before this time next year. Wish me luck!

All I want for Christmas...

2011-12-18T23:00:00.003-07:00

Every year at this time, my thoughts turn inevitably to my Grandma Collins. This week marked the 7th anniversary of her death, although, truthfully, I lost her several years before that, erased entirely from her memory – but hopefully not her heart – by Alzheimer’s.

Christmas was probably my Grandma’s favorite holiday. She loved its music, its excitement, and the joy of giving – she relished finding the perfect gifts for everyone she loved. She also loved getting Christmas cards and letters in the mail. Each night after my grandpa would get home from tuning pianos, I would sit down and read them all the cards, letters, and personal notes from their myriad of friends across the U.S. Each letter would bring a minute or two of reminiscing about that particular family.

In addition, she and Grandpa both loved to give of themselves as well. Grandpa was the president of the Idaho Council of the Blind, and so every Christmas season was filled with Christmas parties and caroling, and making sure that those who didn’t have much were taken care of. I remember one year we sang for inmates in the jail, and another where we sang carols for mentally under-developed adults who lived in a group home. After the singing, we handed out toys our group had bought. Never have I seen more excitement and appreciation as I did that day from those adult “kids”! The fact that my grandparents couldn’t see those excited faces didn’t matter. They could feel it…

---

Being blind, my grandparents didn’t have the luxury we take for granted of going shopping whenever they wanted, so Grandma would pick a day, and off we’d go to conquer the stores!

Probably my least favorite activity at that time was that annual Christmas shopping spree.

Someone, usually grandpa and his driver, would drop us off around 9:00 a.m. when the mall opened, and they’d pick us up again after dark, where we waited out on the curb, surrounded by "gobs and heaps" of packages, breath steaming in the cold air.

Feet throbbing in tempo to the piped-in Christmas tunes over the mall sound system, both of us carrying bag after bulky bag, grandma and I would trudge along, me in front and she at my elbow, through the vast halls of the Yellowstone Mall in Idaho Falls. Well, I should say I trudged – she was always still sickeningly chipper and practically floated along in her white tennis shoes. We’d been at it for at least 8 hours, but to me it felt more like days at that point…

We would hit Every.Single.Store in that mall, walking up and down Every.Single.Aisle as I described all the things we were passing. Toy stores were her favorite, and we always had to listen to the Tuneyville Choo-Choo train – a battery operated toy that played records as it chugged along – until the year my grandpa bought her very own as a surprise present. I don’t think it ever failed to produce her laughter.

After we’d combed every inch of that mall and exhausted all its treasures, we’d dash across the busy North Yellowstone Highway, playing a real-life version of Frogger, to hit the other mall - whose name I’ve long ago forgotten - where we’d repeat the entire process.

Finally arriving back at their home – Mad Manor my grandparents affectionately called it – she and I would lock ourselves in her bedroom and wrap and label presents for what seemed like an eternity, occasionally opening the door so my cousin Kenny and brother Forrest could haul out the latest batch to pile under the tree.

---

Today is December 18^th, exactly one week until Christmas. Even though I’ve spent countless hours wandering aimlessly through stores, alone, as of now I still have not finished my Christmas shopping, written the family letter, addressed Christmas cards, done any baking or candy making, or even begun to think of what to do for neighbor gifts. At the rate I’m going, I may have everything finished around March, IF I really push it!

Both malls are gone now, as is she, but I’d give anything to have Grandma back beside me, hand on my elbow, scouring stores. I wish I’d known then and appreciated more what was really the perfect gift…

Merry Christmas, Grandma! <3

Introducing: Lucy

2011-11-29T22:53:00.003-07:00

Meet Miss Lucy... the newest member of the family.

After losing our sweet little Fiona, the house just seemed too forlorn so we made the decision to adopt another dog. Tom has always had a soft spot for Cocker Spaniels, so we found this little girl. She's almost 5 months old, and really needed a good home with people who would do more than just leave her in her crate all day. Don't even get me started...

Needless to say, she's already made herself part of the family.

She loves the cats, especially Morris, another new addition who adopted Tom at work. Unfortunately, kitties and automotive shops don't mix well (floor-dry is not good kitty litter!), so he brought him home. He's also the sweetest little thing. Plus, we like to color-code our animals! How could we turn him away?

Lucy is a busy little soul who is happiest when she is shredding paper. Newspapers, Reader's Digest magazines, and paper towels are high on her list of favorites, although she will stoop to toilet paper rolls and Savannah's homework in a pinch.

We're working hard on breaking that lovely habit. In the meantime, I vacuum my floor more regularly than I've done in a while, so it's not all bad.

Luckily, she loves to play with her toys and is easily distracted from the paper mess. She has tons, and empties her toy box about 27 times a day. Now if only she'd learn to pick up after herself!

She already thinks of herself as the guard dog of the family. Every. Single. Night. when Braden comes home from work she barks at him, asking us: "Who is this stranger who keeps breaking in?!"

It's okay Lucy, we think he's pretty strange too!

We've got our eyes on you, Braden! ;o)

For Fiona...

2011-11-12T13:29:00.009-07:00

My little dog - a heartbeat at my feet.

~Edith Wharton

Create your own digital collage

Oh, my sweet, fuzzy, feisty Fiona. It’s been 3 days since you left us, and still I can’t quit crying… We all loved you passionately, and I know there’ll never be another quite like you.

We brought you home just over a year ago after you were bought completely on a whim. I was browsing the pet ads on KSL, surely a whisper from God, and ran across your picture which I showed to Daddy.

“Call them now!” he said, so I did. That was the best call I ever made.

Braden and I jumped in the car and drove over an hour to meet you. Completely smitten, we brought you home. The people we bought you from were your second owners, and we became your fourth. Apparently they had sold you to someone else who returned you after a few days, saying “this dog won’t ever socialize.” They warned us about this, afraid we would do the same.

You’re the same mix as our beloved Annie – part Cavalier Spaniel and part Shih-tzu, but you looked and acted completely different. Feisty from the get-go, you were never a cuddler. Life held too many adventures for you to stay in one spot for too long! Totally a people lover, you’d make sure to spend your time with one of us at all times, pausing occasionally to perch against a leg, gazing at us with those big chocolate eyes, your saucy grin, getting a quick love, and then romping off to the next great adventure.

I miss the way you pretended you couldn’t get up on the couch or the bed. You’d act all pitiful and helpless until one of us would finally give you a hand, only to jump down again two seconds later to go check out something else.

If doggies have ADD, I’m sure you had it!

Imagine my surprise when I saw you jump up on our bed the first time when you thought no one was around. After we got the new mattress pad, it really was too high, so from then on I had to always lift you up. You’d sleep with Savannah every night until about 5:30 a.m., then you’d come in to be with us. You had the funniest little way of “talking” to us – not really a whine or a bark – so you’d come around to my side of the bed and let me know what you wanted. I’d lift you up and wait for you to finish your little ritual: find an open spot somewhere near me, twirl in circles roughly 27 times, then BAM! You’d throw yourself against me. Sometimes that didn’t seem to work, so you’d start all over again – circle, circle, circle, THROW! – finally ending the process with a satisfied sigh.

I could go on and on with many memories and things I love about you, but honestly, my heart (and poor, weepy eyes) can’t take any more of this walk down memory lane at the moment. You may not have fit with the other families you were placed with, but for us, you were the world.

Love always,

Your people mommy

The Traveling Memorial

2011-09-20T23:26:00.001-06:00

"It doesn't require any particular bravery to stand

on the floor of the Senate and urge our boys in Vietnam

to fight harder, and if this war mushrooms into

a major conflict and a hundred thousand young

Americans are killed, it won't be U.S. Senators who die.

It will be American soldiers who are too young

to qualify for the Senate."

~George McGovern

My first try at "Texture Tuesday." I used the Life is Good texture, and then added a watercolor effect.

Last week, our valley was privileged to have the Traveling Vietnam Veteran's Memorial brought to the local fairgrounds, an 80% sized replica of the original.

My dad served in Vietnam, and I remember looking at yellowing black and white photos of him and the friends he served with, shirts off, cigarettes in hand, hamming it up for the camera. Even though you could tell they were goofing around in the photos, every pair of eyes still held a haunted look, one that I imagine hasn't changed for our troops in the field today.

It took many years for that look to leave my dad's face, and I still have never heard him personally talk about it. Everything I know of his time there comes from my mom, the story told in a hushed voice how many of the men he served with, his brothers in arms, died in a shot-down helicopter the day after he was discharged and sent home.

I also grew up hearing stories of how Vietnam veterans were treated when they came home - truly despicable. My husband is a veteran of the conflict with Ferdinand Marcos in the Phillipines back in the 80's. My uncle served in Iraq in the ongoing war there, and our son Josh previously served a stint in Iraq and is now in Afghanistan. I have seen that same look on all their faces... I try to imagine them being treated like the Vietnam vets were, and it literally breaks my heart.

This was a beautiful tribute, and I'm so glad that I got the chance to see it. I still long to see the original in Washington, D.C., but until then, I have this memory...

Photos of the "Utah Fallen."

Gold dog tags for every U.S. troop member who has died in the War on Terror.

It's a Natural High

2011-07-23T11:54:00.002-06:00

I am a child of simple pleasures: A good book to read, a glass of iced tea with lemon, watching the sun set over the Wellsville Mountains... They never get old. And garage sales... I LOVE me a good garage sale.

This morning my husband and I were sitting quietly in our room, reading our respective sections of the newspaper (meaning: I was stuck with the classifieds and the sports section because my DH takes foreverrrrr to read the first section). Flipping through the classifieds, my eyes immediately were drawn to the bold "Garage Sales" heading.

"Do you know what?!" I asked him in astonishment, knowing he was probably only half-listening, and not expecting an answer. "I haven't been to a single garage sale this summer..."

"Well, why not?" he responded - this was big news - lifting his face from page 3.

I quietly ponder this for a moment. Why haven't I been to any? Is it the lack of money since the cost of everything has skyrocketed? Is it because I've run out of rooms to stash my treasures? Is it my newly-found resolve to de-clutter and simplify life (or at least my surroundings)?

Well, yes... those are all valid reasons. But wait! I know what it really boils down to:

"To get any of the good stuff, you have to get up wayyyy too flippin' early, and sleep is a precious commodity!"

My younger son had just wandered in and plopped himself down in a chair.

"It sounds like you're talking about where to get your drugs!"

Not far off the mark, son, not far off the mark... =)

Just for Fun

2011-06-22T23:40:00.001-06:00

Monday, I took the day off to hang out with the kids. Since Evan leaves early next week for AIT training for the National Guard, he, Braden, and their best buddy Vince (our honorary son) wanted some pictures of the three of them together before life scatters them to the four corners... I was happy to do it because a) I know the time I get to spend with all of them is dwindling rapidly away, b) I love to get more practice time in, and c) it beat staying home and doing more of the yard and house work that never ends! Unfortunately, Braden had to work so he only was around for the first stop of the day, so he gets to be tortured some other time!

Here are some of my favorites from the day, including my lovely assistant, Savannah :o)

(Click on the photos to see them in a larger size).

Photography Class - Week 4

2011-06-13T22:51:00.001-06:00

This is the final week of my photography class, and I am seriously depressed... :o(

I have learned so much, but more than that, I have absolutely loved seeing the photos and takes on each lesson from my fellow students. Even though we've never met, I feel like you have all become friends through sharing your photos each week! You are all so talented and I hope that you'll keep posting to your blogs. I stand in awe... :o)

This week we were to post only one photo for each part of the lesson. Part One was to take a "thematic" or conceptual shot. This is the "theme" of your photographic story, and it should sum up in one picture what you are trying to portray. Let me tell you, this is not an easy task! (at least it wasn't for me...) I had many ideas, but capturing them with my camera was much different than what I had pictured in my head. It didn't help that this past week was particularly hectic, so I didn't have quite as much time to devote and play around with.

Here's my shot:

These are my parents, and my theme that I was trying to capture has many names: devotion, perseverance, vows kept, heroism... the list could go on and on. More than anything I think that this picture portrays 1 Corinthians 13, what is often referred to as the "Love chapter" of the Bible.

My parents have been married for about 35 years, and have faced their fair share of ups-and-downs. My dad is a diabetic whose kidneys have been shut down for many years now, so he has had to rely on dialysis to do the work his body refuses. My mom works a very stressful full-time job, then comes home to perform the hours-long process of dialysis on my dad, diligently babysitting the temperamental machine while it performs its precious job while also cooking dinner, feeding him, and scratching the ever-elusive itch as well.

The most amazing part is that through all of it, they still laugh and enjoy each other - no small feat when you see the size of the needles my mom sticks him with!!!

I can't resist adding this picture, which also fits in with the "love" theme: this is Tiny. I'm not sure if you should say that Tiny belongs to my dad, or that my dad belongs to Tiny. Regardless, where you find one, you also find the other...

Part Two of this week's lesson was the importance of including yourself in the family photos. I have often "joked," even before this class, that when I die my children won't remember what I look like because I am ALWAYS the one holding the camera. Unfortunately, there's a little too much truth to that. I don't know of anyone who really enjoys having their picture taken, but I know that I am doing my family a disservice by having this attitude. All I can do is try to do better from this point forth, starting here:

Happy Monday all...

Love always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

Love never fails.

Photography Homework - Week 3

2011-06-06T23:18:00.001-06:00

The first part of this week's assignment was to look for "conceptual contrast," juxtaposing contrasts such as big vs. small, light vs. dark, man vs. nature, etc.

I thought going into this week that this would be an easy assignment, but it actually seemed harder to find once I was actively trying to find it. Anyhoo, for what it's worth - here are my "contrast" photos...

I liked the contrast of Savannah's fancy silvery sandals to the barnyard setting with the goat (which we both want to kidnap from our friends' Cliff and Chong!). Later that day, Savannah and I took a drive up the canyon to see what treasures we could find. Interestingly enough, two of my least-favorite things ended up being two of my favorite photos.

I'm not sure if this counts, but I liked the contrasting light from the cat tail and the spider (which I almost accidentally kissed at first! I was originally trying to catch the spider web and came a little too close to its inhabitant, whom I hadn't seen. Ewww...!)

This little guy made me do a pretty fancy dance for a second, but then he posed pretty, so he was forgiven :0) I liked how he was in the reeds, trying to blend in, but really contrasted with them as well...

Bonus shot: we've had flooding in our area, so earlier this week I took a drive and found the run-off had completely eroded away the side of the road.

The second part of our homework this week was to "be intentional" with our photo taking. Especially in this day and age of digital cameras, it is too easy to just click click click away, not taking the time to compose our shot, so we were to take "ONLY" 3 shots, then choose the best of the three... Much harder than I thought! I had originally planned on taking a photo of my dog Annie poking her head out through the tall grass, but much like the kids, she just wouldn't cooperate with me. Instead, I was able to get this picture of Fiona. She is usually such a whirling little dervish, so it's rare to actually get one where she's relaxing, before taking off again!

Feedback always appreciated!

In the Blink of an Eye

2011-06-01T22:37:00.001-06:00

How did we manage to get from here:

to here:

and now to here:

so quickly???

It truly seems like just yesterday that it was me walking across that stage, receiving my own diploma, dreaming of marriage and the children to come...

I cried when you were born, the first of many tears shed for you - both of joy and sorrow.

Then sleepless nights as you cried and cried through your first six weeks, and again after Braden was born... When he'd cry, you'd cry. And then, overwhelmed, so would I... :o) We made a fine picture, I'm sure!

Cleaning up after your unending messes, as you were curious from the start, and helpful too! When Braden came along, you often "helped" me by making a bottle for him: one bottle, half-full of water (most likely out of the toilet)? Got it. Scooper from the formula can? Check. 27 scoops, both in the bottle, in your hair, and on the floor? Yep!

There were many tears shed (by you) at the untimely death of your Big Bird Radio, a trauma that I'm not sure you've ever recovered from!

Over the years, you have made me laugh, made me cry, and given me more than my fair share of gray hairs. Through all the ups-and-downs you have still captured my heart. I hope you know that I will always be your biggest fan and champion.

And in the words of one of your favorite authors, back in the day:

You have brains in your head.
You have feet in your shoes.
You can steer yourself in any direction you choose.
You're on your own.
And you know what you know.
You are the guy who'll decide where to go.
~Dr. Seuss

Love forever and always,

your Momster ;o)

Lifestyle Class - Week 2 Homework

2011-05-30T23:08:00.001-06:00

This week in my class, we first focused on "Point of View" - trying to look at things from more than just the eye-level, ho-hum angle. I've annoyed and alienated at least two of my children this weekend, following them around with the camera, begging for "just one more shot... or else!" Momma's not above a little blackmail, if it gets me what I need! :o) I would have gotten the third child, but he and the hubby went camping (meaning they huddled in the trailer most of the weekend while the rain and snow fell). I also tried some shots of the doggies, but they're just too quick for me, so I'm settling on some shots of Savannah doing her hair - something that she spends roughly 3.2 hours of each day working on...

This last one she had kicked me out of the room, then thought she was clever by opening both doors to the medicine cabinet to block my view. Guess I showed her!

The second part of our assignment this week was to focus on "Less is More," taking the big picture of our "story" and then narrowing it down to the small details. Since it was Memorial Day weekend, I took the opportunity to visit my grandparents' graves.

Finally, even though it's not part of the assignment, no Memorial Day post could be complete without a giant "Thank You" to all our veterans, both past and present. These are for you:

Lifestyle Class - Week 1 Homework

2011-05-23T23:35:00.003-06:00

I just started taking an online photography class called "Lifestyle: Telling the Story," taught by Brooke Snow, an incredible lifestyle photographer in our area.

For this week's assignment, we were supposed to focus on our "Character's" details. Savannah's 12th birthday is today (Happy Birthday to my sweet baby!), and we had her party this weekend, so I thought that it/she would be the ideal subject matter. Her favorite colors of the moment are hot pink and lime green (do NOT make the mistake of calling it neon!), and she is fully your typical "tween" with a love of the two Taylors (Lautner and Swift), and her walls are wallpapered with a ridiculous number of posters of the two...

(The cake got squished on the drive home from the store... :( )

Catching pictures that caught her in conflict were tough: due to my habit of using her as my practice model one-too-many times, she spins her head any time she sees me with the camera. Accordingly, I have all to many shots that look like this:

However, I did manage to sneak a few that I like, especially with her friends around. Turns out that when you get a group of 11-12 year old girls together, there's nothing more that they like than to pose for that next Facebook profile pic!

Joy of Luck, Days 2-4

2011-03-26T19:52:00.002-06:00

Day 2 on my "Joy of Luck" photography assignment was to photograph something green. Since I'm desperate for spring, I thought that, surely, I could find some cheerful little flowers poking their heads up through the ground. Ahem.

I guess winter is never leaving my little corner of the frozen tundra, so I was forced, instead, to find green things around the house.

I may be 20-something with many years experience, but I still love me a teddy bear, especially the old-fashioned looking variety. I also have discovered that for 5-bucks, I can treat myself for months with this wonderful goat's milk soap that is sold in a boutique here in town. I love the creamy softness, and it smells divine...

This is one of a set of cute frog canisters that I inherited when my Grandma Hooper passed away. I didn't get to know her very well for a variety of reasons, but every memory I do have of her house includes this little frog set. They also had a creaking rocking chair, and I can vividly remember my little 4-year-old self sitting on my grandfather's lap rocking in what I had dubbed the "frog chair," the woodsy scent of his pipe filling the air.

Another of my five-buck pick-me-ups is flowers from the grocery store. Mother nature may not be willing to bring spring to me, so I occasionally bring it to myself. What can I say? It keeps me from curling into a ball and crying in the corner...

Moving on to Day 3: A lucky token.

I have never been one for believing in lucky tokens, although I still have to stop myself from lifting my feet whenever I pass over train tracks to avoid bad luck! Anyway, instead of a lucky token I thought I'd show you a "lucky find" instead.

About 6 years ago I stumbled on an estate auction one Saturday morning. I had never been to one before, and this one was a doozy. Fortunately, I had Evan with me that day, and I kept him busy carting boxes of my loot out to our vehicle. My favorite treasure of the day was this little Enesco music box...

It has an electrical plug, and when turned on it plays "Oh What A Beautiful Morning," while all the little mice figurines move around inside. In short, it's adorable and never ceases to bring a smile to my face. Enesco no longer makes these "musicals," and they routinely sell for $100 or more on E-bay, although I've never seen this particular one on there. I did find a listing for it on a collector's website for a mere $750... I paid $20, and was instantly addicted to auctions!

Finally, Day 4's assignment was to take pictures of 7 material items that I love.

I'm counting the music box and the canister set, followed by these:

I always loved the comic strip "Bloom County," (still do, actually!), and received this Opus stuffed animal for my 16th birthday.

I love to cross-stitch, and I started this picture when I was pregnant with Evan. A year later, I finally finished it and had it framed.

I started a large cross-stitch for Savannah when I was pregnant to put in her nursery. It's only about two-thirds done, but I tell myself that I will finish it for her high school graduation. Or to put in her baby's nursery, you know, after she's allowed to marry in her 40's.

I've imagined myself sitting on these porch steps many a time... :o)

When my Grandma Collins died, I was given her jar of charms. Here in this old Miracle Whip jar lays tokens from my mom's, my aunt's, and my uncles' childhood... My biggest thrill when I was a kid was getting to get out a cookie sheet and spread the contents of this jar around, looking at each little trinket individually.

Another thing I got from my Grandma was a love of salt and pepper shakers, which she collected. A few from my collection were handed down from her, but the rest I've amassed myself.

These are a few of my favorites from her collection: a Maytag washer and dryer set, the penguins - Salty and Peppy, and my all-time favorite, the toaster. The shakers are the slices of bread, and if you press down the lever the bread actually moves down further in the slots.

I found this little guy on a family vacation - I can't remember if it was in the Tetons or Glacier National Park. Either way, I love how his body hugs the trunk of the tree.

This little stacking Victorian house set I got on our honeymoon.

This is the first pair I ever bought for myself, purchased when my Aunt Lois took my brother, cousin, and I to the Grand Canyon. They also remind me of the pair I didn't buy because I am too cheap! It was a rattlesnake, and both the head and the rattler lifted out of the body and were the shakers. I will go to my grave regretting that I didn't shell out that five bucks!

These are Savannah's favorites because the Route 66 sign actually lights up, and the nozzles can actually lift off the side of the gas pump.

Another one from Grandma's collection. I never learned to play piano, but I love this because it reminds me of both my grandparents'.

Finally, this little frog music box that my aunt bought for Evan when he was a baby, which is never allowed to leave my house because I love it so... :o)

My cup runneth over...

2011-03-24T22:53:00.002-06:00

Or The Joy of Luck - Day 1.

"Contentment is not the fulfillment of what you want,

but the realization of how much you already have." - Anonymous

I signed up for a free online photography class - one of those that doesn't really go in-depth on technical stuff, but more or less gives you prompts to get you to use your camera and to photograph all parts of your life. The prompt for the first day was to take pictures of things we take for granted.

Did I get out my camera and immediately start taking pictures of faucets with running water, or light bulbs? No and no. Pictures of my family or the roof over our heads? Nada... The puppy dogs with wagging tails? Well... yes, but not for this assignment.

For Day 1, I didn't take a single picture.

Now I know that we all are guilty of taking many things for granted, myself included, but I can honestly say that I am at a stage of my life where I feel so thankful and blessed beyond measure. There is not a day that goes by that I don't thank God for all He's given me: a marriage filled with love and friendship, kids who are full of life, spunk, and humor (yes, even the teenagers), our home, abundant food (even if I do have to cook, dang-it), a good job, health insurance, on and on and on it goes...

Events in our life the past few weeks have driven home to me just how incredibly blessed we are. I read the news about all that's going on in the world, and it's easy to get discouraged. If you watch TV for more than five minutes, or read the headlines, it seems that God is nowhere to be found.

But then.

But then I see God working diligently in the lives of those I love. Giving strength and peace to family members facing desperate illnesses... Helping a teen stand up for what is right, rather than what friends' say is "cool"... Meeting physical and financial needs... The list is endless.

And answering prayers whispered long ago...

Happy "Love Thursday". <3

Through Grandpa's Eyes - Part 2

2011-03-03T06:30:00.002-07:00

I had driven for Grandpa a few times now, and we’d settled into a comfortable routine. After visiting with Grandma for a few minutes, she handed us our destinations on 3x5 cards, typed both in Braille and on a regular typewriter so either of us could read them. Grandpa rested a giant paw on one of my shoulders, towering over me with his sturdy 6-foot frame, as I led him out to the car: a behemoth 1970’s era Chevy Impala in the ugliest olive green ever seen. I was embarrassed to be seen in it – it was that ugly – but to my grandpa it may as well have been a Rolls Royce with all its legroom and ample seating. That was an added benefit to being blind: his vision was based solely on impressions from his heart, and in his eyes both the car and I were beautiful.

“Okay, Kewpie. You need to drive east on Broadway until we reach Saturn, then you’re going to want to turn south…” he instructed me as soon as we pulled out of the driveway.

Everyone thinks that in-car GPS units are a fairly recent invention, but I know better. Grandpa was the world’s first GPS unit. He had built a virtual map in his head of all the cities he had travelled in, and if he was unfamiliar with an area he would ask for the names of the roads we were crossing, and just like that they were added to the internal map. Idaho Falls is not like most Mormon communities which are built on the grid system, making addresses easy to find. No, in the Falls, most roads have random names: Broadway, Pancheri, Skyline Drive, St. Clair, and there was no rhyme or reason to where they were. However, I cannot remember a single time that he couldn’t get us to our destination, though he’d always joke with me that “you can’t get there from here.”

“Which way is south?” I asked, heading towards Saturn, and then listened as he patiently tried to teach me, for the umpteenth time, how to tell directions by the position of the sun in the sky, the time of day, and whatever else you needed to know; I still haven’t been able to figure that one out. Turn by turn he piloted until we glided right up in front of the house we were looking for.

“It’ll be on the right-hand side,” he said as he checked the house number on the Braille card, and so it was.

Once inside the house, he introduced me proudly to the lady who answered the door, embarrassing me by bragging about my recent win of the school spelling bee, as she led us to the upright piano, then left us to do our thing. Like a well-practiced surgical team, I cleared the piano top of all the smiling family photos and knick-knacks so that grandpa could pull the piano away from the wall. While he did that, I opened his battered toolbox and started laying out the tools he’d need, like a nurse prepping the doctor for surgery: tuning fork, tuning lever, myriad screwdrivers, wrenches, and pliers, and the rolls of wool felt strips, used to mute and isolate the specific chords. I grabbed the blunted putty-knife-like tool used to stuff the felts, and carefully started threading them between the steel strings, each attached to the 88 piano keys, as he’d taught me to do.

At our next stop, we repeated the procedure, complete with some other bragging tidbit of what a “wonderful” granddaughter he had. These introductions always embarrassed me, but inside, my soul lapped it up like a kitten drinking sweet cream.

On these trips, Grandpa and I discussed everything under the sun. We’d talk about the current events of the day and what I was learning in school. I’d tell him about friends, and boys I liked, and what a pest my brother was. We discussed religion (he was a devout Baptist; I was being pressured by friends at school to attend and join the LDS church), and he explained the difference to me between religion and a personal relationship: two very different things when you are talking about God, no matter what church you belong to.

In more personal discussions Grandpa would tell me about his childhood and his early adult years, which were far from perfect. His dad, Frank Sr., died when he was 6 years old. A year later he started losing his sight to glaucoma – one of the earliest cases known in the country at that time – and went completely blind by the time he was 13. He told how his mom remarried when he was about 8 years old, giving him a cold and aloof man for a stepfather, who soon shipped both Grandpa and his brother Chuck, also blind, to the School for the Deaf and Blind in Gooding, Idaho, almost 400 miles to the south. He lived through World Wars I and II, and supported himself during the depression by hitchhiking around the country selling women’s hosiery with his guide dog, Hal, by his side. When Hal died a few years later, he vowed to never have another guide dog – you can’t replace a love like that.

Once he was set up, hands deep in the bowels of the piano, we got started on one of our favorite topics: reading. He must have had a photographic memory before he lost his sight, because he could recite whole pages of books that he’d read back then. In my English class I was being required to memorize The Children’s Hour by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Mentioning this to Grandpa, he immediately launched off in his deep, rich voice:

“Between the dark and the daylight,
When the light is beginning to lower,
Comes a pause in the day’s occupation
That is known as the children’s hour…”

And finished by reciting perfectly, the entire 10-stanza poem.

Like me, he was a voracious reader, preferring to listen to talking books because his fingers, calloused from wrestling with untold thousands of piano strings, sometimes had a hard time feeling the raised bumps of the Braille. Each weekend we’d discuss at length books that we were both reading. I was in the midst of a preoccupation with Stephen King horror novels. Explaining the plot of the latest that I’d brought along with me to read while he tuned, Grandpa gently introduced me to the concept of “garbage in, garbage out.”

“Why do you want to fill your mind with that kind of thing?” he asked, perplexed. “Why, when there are so many good things to read, would you want to fill your heart with garbage? Reading should build you up, make you stronger, make you want to be a better person, help you learn things. You can read hard books, things that make you grapple with a truth. But books like that do nothing for you.”

Hmmm… there was no arguing with that one. All Stephen King really did for me was make me afraid to sleep at night, something I already had trouble with even without the gory books. Somehow I had convinced myself that it was “cool,” a safe way to exert my rebellious teenage nature since I knew better than to actually act out in other ways. I took that lesson to heart, its truth piercing me like an arrow, and that was the last horror novel I ever read.

------------

One week that next summer, my grandparents and I took an extended road trip. My grandma was going to be staying in Boise for two weeks for some specialized training on a machine that could “read” the mail for her, a job that had hitherto been mostly mine. We loaded up the beast (as I fondly called the car) and drove, with only one glitch along the way: we blew a tire right as we took the exit into Boise. I was sure it was somehow my fault. The sound and jerking of the car scared me to death, but Grandpa calmly walked me through the steps of putting on the spare (“Be sure to tighten every-other lug nut in a star pattern until you’ve gotten them all”) and then helped me find my way through Boise – also in his catalog of in-head maps – and its maze of one-way streets to a tire store that was still open. The next day, after leaving Grandma at a friend’s house where she was staying, we started the trek back home.

Like always, there was no shortage of things to talk about, and we were cruising steadily along, while he told me many stories about his life. He attempted college several times, although his plans kept getting sidelined (something I definitely relate to now) so he never finished. One of my favorite stories he told was from his college days in Lewiston when one of his friends allowed him to drive his car around campus. They piled into the friend’s Model-T and drove all over, Grandpa at the wheel while his friend hovered close to his shoulder giving him detailed instructions. He laughed uproariously as he recounted the reaction they got when they pulled back into the dorm, shaking his head at the memory.

Grandpa’s car might have been ugly and big, but it sailed like a yacht on balmy seas, and you could be doing well over the speed limit without noticing, something I had to watch closely. As we were driving, he casually mentioned, “Let me know if there’s anything you want to stop and look at.”

“Really?” I said, thinking to myself yeah, right… It had never occurred to me that I could have a say in where we went. In my mind, cars were merely tools meant to get you from Point A to Point B in the quickest amount of time.

Testing the waters, I mentioned a sign we had just passed announcing a place called Massacre Rocks State Park. “It’s about 10 miles out of our way,” I told him when we passed the next sign for it, thinking that he’d tell me to keep driving, but instead he encouraged me to take the side trip – after all, we didn’t have to be back at any particular time. It was a beautiful day, sun shining. We walked the trail, me leading the way as he walked, attached, steadily behind me, to look at Register Rock, a huge boulder that was covered with the names of pioneers who’d passed through on the Oregon Trail. I read him the historical markers that were on the trail, and then we spent a few minutes resting at a picnic table, enjoying the slight breeze.

He took the moment to share with me a story about his grandfather, a hard man with his daughter but one who’d shown a soft-spot when it came to his grandson.

“When it became clear that I was going to go completely blind, my grandfather gave me a real treasure: a pair of 8-power binoculars that I could look at things with, encouraging me to appreciate it all. Oh, I carried them with me everywhere, studying things intently. When I finally did lose my sight, grandfather, ever practical, took the binoculars back from me. Sad as I was to lose them, I was so grateful for the gift that he’d given me, the gift of seeing."

------------

Summarizing all the things I learned from Grandpa is an impossible task: tips on driving through the winter snow (“Be extra careful on bridges and overpasses, as the air under them is colder and creates ice”), lessons on ancient Roman engineering, and how to re-cover piano keys (a tedious, seemingly endless job but one which taught me the importance of paying attention to detail), among a thousand others.

Grandpa taught me to live life and see it as the gift it is, planting the seeds to sing just for the enjoyment it brings me no matter how terrible I might sound (and trust me – it's pretty terrible! I still do that only when I'm alone), to let down my guard and act silly on occasion, and to treat myself with kindness, not taking myself so seriously all the time.

More than that, though, he showed me what unconditional love looks like and that I was, indeed, worthy of it. To the casual observer watching us walk together it would appear that I was leading a blind man, but in truth, he was the one leading me.

"G" is for Gentle Giant

2011-03-02T10:07:00.004-07:00

See "Grandpa."

One of my friends has been posting blogs for ABC Wednesday (click on the link to see more "G" posts), so I thought I'd give it a try. As usual, I'm a little late getting started, but I'll try to make up A-F some other time. Here's an excerpt from one of the personal essays I wrote in my memoir-writing class. I hope you enjoy!

"Through Grandpa's Eyes"

Age 14 was truly magical if you lived in the potato-filled land of Idaho, for that was when you could earn your driver’s license. “Spud-miners,” as we liked to call them, needed help during the harvest, and kids our age were cheap labor. In order to drive the farm equipment, though, you had to have a license, so the legislature had at some point lowered the driving age, a very wise decision my friends and I all agreed. I had finally turned 14 in late July, and my mom had driven me to the driver’s license division that very day (after much wheedling by myself, I’m sure) to put my name on the list to take the Driver’s Ed. Class. Unfortunately for me, there were too many people with June birthdays, so I would have to wait for the next class, to be held in the winter, seemingly light-years away.

Ugghhh! Life was so unfair…

------------

In my exuberance, I slammed the door of my mom’s 1978 Buick Regal shut with a little more force than necessary. A beautiful burnt orange color, the Regal was almost eight years old, but it was the newest car we’d ever owned. I was still in shock that Mom had handed me the keys and allowed me to drive the entire 15 miles from Rigby to Idaho Falls, in February, in the snow.

Cringing at the loud sound, I yelled “Sorry, Mom!” over my shoulder as I bounded toward the front door of my grandparents’ doublewide mobile home on Vassar Way, leaving her and my little brother, Forrest, behind, still fumbling with their seatbelts. I hurried into the house, the cheerful jangling sound of the bells hanging on the inside of the front door announcing my arrival. “Mad Manor” we affectionately called the house because of the never-ending hustle and bustle that went on under its roof: phone ringing, TV blaring, dog, cats, and assorted grandkids underfoot, and always my grandparents’ loving banter.

I practically danced into the kitchen where grandpa was in the process of cooking dinner. The aroma of his special cheesy ham and rice casserole, one of my favorites, perfumed the air, and the kitchen was extra warm and cozy thanks to the well-used oven. In the office, grandma was busy on the phone, booking his jobs for the next week.

Grandpa was a piano tuner by trade, with well over 40 years under his skilled fingers. Grandma was his “favorite secretary” and had been booking jobs for him just as long, calling in the evenings when people were home, keeping grandpa informed of her progress while he cooked their meals for them in the kitchen.

He and my grandma also happened to be totally blind.

“This is Mary Collins, the piano tuner’s wife,” she chirped into the phone nestled up to her ear, snuggled in place by the oversized shoulder rest. Confirming the appointment, she dug to get one of the 3x5 cards out of the plastic-wrapped packet. Finally succeeding, she deftly slid it into the Braille writer and started typing up the details – name, date, time, address, and when it was last tuned – the distinctive crunch-punch sound of the cardstock seeming to fill up the room. After hanging up the phone, she called out to my grandpa in her sing-song voice: “Oh goody! I got you another one for Tuesday.” Grandpa, rifling through a drawer in the kitchen in search of a serving spoon, boomed out words of encouragement.

“Grandpa! Look what I got!” I said, placing the laminated plastic card in his outstretched hand.

“Well, well… what have we got here?” he asked, with an air of teasing in his voice as he held the card in one hand and ran a finger from the other around the plastic.

“My driver’s license!” I exclaimed. “I can’t believe I finally got it!”

“I’m so proud of you Kewpie,” he said, pulling me to his side with one of his tight hugs. Kewpie dolls were little bald baby-dolls that were popular when he was a kid; he had labeled me such at birth, and the name stuck even though I was no longer a baby, or bald for that matter. Seeing one for the first time I thought they were hideous little things, but the way he said it made it seem like the greatest compliment ever. In his eyes, I was truly precious, even though I knew better.

From the office, I could hear my grandma calling to me: “I want to see!” so off I went to show her too, repeating the process of placing it in her outstretched hand and watching as she caressed it with her fingers. “Just think, Frank,” she called to my grandpa. “Now you have a Saturday driver!” Because of his blindness, he had to employ drivers to ferry him around to all his appointments.

Grandma followed through and managed to regularly schedule us a few jobs several days each month. There were times that I didn’t want to give up my Saturdays, but there weren’t that many ways to earn spending money at that age. Among other things, I needed the money to feed my Q-Bert habit, an arcade game that sat in the Skyline Bowling Alley and which officially proclaimed to the world that TLV was the “Supreme Noser!” I had coveted that award for months and had spent hours and hours of baby-sitting money, frittered away one plunked-down quarter at a time, before finally attaining it; now I had my honor to defend.

Driving for grandpa would give me a steady income, and it sure beat babysitting the neighbor’s little brats.

TO BE CONTINUED TOMORROW... (It's just too long otherwise!)

Puppy Love

2011-02-27T17:06:00.004-07:00

Fiona recently went into heat for the first time (Cue music: I am Woman), so it was time to get her spayed. The LAST thing I want to deal with is a litter of puppies who take after their sassy mama! Before I could make her an appointment, we started noticing new things about her. First, her, um... shall we say, doggy breastesses, were much bigger than I remembered (not that I actively check them out on a regular basis!).

In addition, her mood and demeanor changed in not-so-subtle ways. All of a sudden, she was actually... NICE, and more cuddly than she'd ever been before (read: she would actually deign to lick your nose if you tried to get her to snuggle on your lap - I'm told that's what lap dogs do - before turning up her little black nose at you and hightailing it on to something better, like digging under the couch for imaginary lint).

I did a little internet searching and came away with the sinking feeling that she might already be pregnant. Savannah and Tom immediately lapsed into cries of "Awww... they'll be so cute!!" but all I could picture were bizarre Shih Tzu/Cavalier/Yellow lab couplings, as the only dog that I'd seen loitering hopefully in the yard to see his love was a goofy but lovable yellow lab that regularly makes the rounds in our neighborhood. Upon further studies with my buddy Google, I learned that large puppies in a small dog almost always create major medical problems.

Finally, even though Savannah laughed at my suggestion for a new made-for-MTV reality show, "Six Months and Pregnant," I learned how unhealthy it is for dogs under 2 years old to give birth. I am normally anti-abortion, but this seemed like a no-brainer to me. I called the vet and made an appointment for a week later, then gently broke the news to Tom. Although not terribly happy, he eventually accepted the inevitable.

A few days before Fiona's appointment, Tom started worrying more and more.

"Are you sure she's going to be okay?" he anxiously asked.

"She'll be fine," I assured.

Later that same night he asked again, concern and worry leaking through his tough-guy demeanor.

"What are they going to do to her?"
"Where will they have to cut?"
"How sore is she going to be?"
"How long will it take her to recover?"

And my very favorite, asked often over the next few days: "Does she have to?!"

The day of the appointment finally arrived, and he was nearly beside himself with worry. As I wrestled Fiona to get the leash on her, Tom scooped her into his arms, gently petting her while cooing sweet-nothings in her floppy ears.

Enough was enough!

"Geez!" I said, jokingly.

"You weren't near this concerned about my recuperation when I went in for my hysterectomy a few years ago. I don't recall any anxious questioning, much less any petting or cooing!"

I never thought I'd be battling a seven pound, doe-eyed, standoffish bundle of ebony for my husband's affections!

It turned out that she wasn't actually pregnant, which made us all feel better, and now I'll never have to worry about it.

Both Fiona and Tom are doing fine... :o)

Modern AND Historical Fiction in One Great Book

2011-02-01T22:28:00.004-07:00

I recently received another free book from the Blogging for Books program that I recently joined through Multnomah Press.

Lady in Waiting, written by author Susan Meissner, is the story of two Janes.

The first, Jane Lindsey, is an antiques dealer living in Manhattan. She and her husband Brad have been comfortably married for 22 years, and they have a son who has just left for college. As Jane settles into life as an empty-nester, her world suddenly falls apart when Brad leaves her and moves away, leaving her to deal with the shock of his leaving and trying to deal with her overbearing mother. In the midst of these trials, she receives a new shipment of antiques from England. Buried deep in the box she discovers an old ring that has been trapped in the spine of an ancient book. Inside the ring she finds the name Jane delicately engraved.

From here the story begins its journey with the Lady Jane Grey, a young aristocrat from 16th century England. This portion of the story is narrated by her dressmaker, Lucy, and details the story of her life with the joys and sorrows that came with being part of the aristocracy. The ring, of course, belongs to her.

This story seamlessly weaves back and forth between the 16th and 21st centuries, the ring symbolically gliding through both strands. Although the story is set in two vastly different times and places, both Janes find themselves living and dealing with circumstances that seem to be beyond their control, but the emotions and heartaches and even the joys, are as old as time. But are they really out of their control?

In each section of this book I found myself not wanting to leave that particular strand. I fought not to skip ahead to the next section to see what happened. However, as soon as I'd start, I was instantly captured again as the story moved to the other century. Beautifully written, the story is filled with rich, wonderful details from history to make Lady Jane Grey come alive.

I have always been a fan of historical fiction, and I was intrigued by the concept of having the old with the new. This book definitely did not disappoint! If anything, contrasting our current world with the old only made each story stronger, showing the timelessness of what each woman was going through.

This was the first book by Susan Meissner that I have read, but it definitely won't be the last!

Please stop by the Blogging for Books website and leave me a comment!

Turning Circles

2011-01-20T20:38:00.002-07:00

This week's assignment at You Capture was "Circles." I have been scoping out windows in buildings, tailpipes in cars, and these awesome circular sculptures that hang in the library at work. But. But then I got sick, and instead of venturing out bravely into the cold, I snuggled under covers and sacked out.

Today, however, I drug myself back to work. Unfortunately, by about 2:00 p.m. my head gained approximately 53 pounds in weight, and, nodding forward, I realized what I really needed was more sleep. I prevailed however, and stuck it out my 8 hours before driving home and taking a quick snooze on the couch.

When I awoke, it dawned on me that today is Thursday (I'm real quick on the uptake when I get sick!) which meant I'd run out of time on You Capture. My goal this year is to enter at least one photo-type blog entry each week, so that I can force myself to practice my photography more.

All this to say that I got out the camera and prowled my own little abode for circles. Hopefully next week I'll get beyond these four walls...

This little gem is a music box that my aunt bought in San Francisco for my 18-year-old son when he was about a year old. Being the good mom that I am (and a closet frog-lover), I immediately ~~stole it for myself~~ put it in a safe place for him, so that it wouldn't get ruined. The box plays "Singing in the Rain" while the little frog dances. Still one of my Evan's favorite toys.

I *Heart* bird houses. But I keep them inside for decoration rather than outside where they'd be personal fast-food restaurants for our outdoor kitties.

Patriotism abounds in this house. And we are so proud of our men in uniform.

In addition to bird houses and frogs, I have a thing for owls as well. I won this little guy from Our Name is Mud. I just love his little eyes, don't you?

Then finally, catastrophe struck:

Being my usual graceful-self, I pulled a chair out from the table to stand on. Alas, the cord to my Scentsy was wrapped around said chair leg, and crashed to the floor.

:o(

At least I was able to stick with the theme.. Guess I'd better go back to bed.

I Bet This Doesn't Happen at YOUR Work...

2011-01-07T20:22:00.000-07:00

Or "You know when you work in a College of Natural Resources When..."

Like many offices, our college has a break room with a pop machine, small fridge, sink, and microwave, which is used by faculty, staff, and students alike. My particular department has its own microwave, so I don't use the communal one very often.

I was a good girl and brought leftovers for lunch today, but after eating it (really good seafood fettuccine, if I do say so myself) I needed to wash my bowl, so off to the kitchen I went.

Affixed firmly to the door of the microwave was the following sign,

and I quote:

Do not use.

This microwave needs to be cleaned.

Individual thawing bird, please clean ASAP.

Seriously? Thawing birds?

What?!!!

Shortly thereafter, my co-worker filled me in on the story. It seems another staff member had gone in to cook her lunch and popped open the door only to find a still partially-frozen, fully feathered bird of some sort, lying peacefully in repose.

I'm not so sure I will EVER even use that kitchen again.

Ewwww, ewwww, ewwww...

And, winging a wild guess (pun intended), I'll bet nobody ever claims responsibility.

A Baker's Dozen from 2010

2011-01-06T19:13:00.000-07:00

Today's You Capture assignment was to post your Ten Favorite Photos from the past year. What an assignment! I have spent the last three nights poring over my photo files, trying to narrow it down. Alas, I can only narrow it to 13 (or so), which I think is pretty good considering that I probably took a few thousand photos this last year. I was amazed at how many there were to go through! It's also amazing to see my pictures pre-photo class compared to after. I wish we could do our vacation over - the pictures would be so much better this time around...

Anyway, in no particular order, here are some of my favorites from the year:

This is our newest family member, Fiona. She's adorable - which is a good thing - because she's a feisty little monster, bullying our other dog.

But how can you get mad at that face?

The girls, asleep on our vacation.

One of many dead trees in my picture collection. It drives the family crazy, but I love them. There's just something about their strength and the way they're still standing, still reaching for the sun, still beautiful in a totally different way...

Braden laughing, one of my favorite sounds ever.

Scene from the Durango-Silverton Narrow Gauge Train. Every minute of the 3 1/2 hour ride was gorgeous!

My man, Willis.

Annie, the girl who loves me above all others :o)

Meatball. 'Nuf said...

My favorite model...

My Uncle Ken and his newest grandson, Jackson.

So there you have it... I can't wait to see what the next year brings!

P.S. The baker can't count. Oops...

Book Review: Under the Overpass

2010-12-22T23:44:00.002-07:00

"I have learned what it means to be content in all circumstances,
whether with everything or with nothing."
Philippians 4:11-12

Recently I signed up for a program called Blogging for Books through Multnomah Press, a Christian book publishing company. If you're accepted for the program, you get to choose one book at a time from a good-sized list of available books (and different genres), which they send to you absolutely free. The catch? You have 30-90 days to read the book and then post a review.

For my first book, I decided on a book called Under the Overpass by Mike Yankoski.

Here's the blurb off of the back of the book, which immediately caught my interest:

"Ever wonder what it would be like to live homeless?

Mike Yankoski did more than just wonder. By his own choice, Mike's life went from upper-middle class plush to scum-of-the-earth repulsive overnight. With only a backpack, a sleeping bag, and a guitar, Mike and his traveling companion, Sam, set out to experience life on the streets in six different cities: Denver; Washington D.C.; Portland; San Francisco; Phoenix; and San Diego.

For more than five months the pair experienced firsthand the extreme pains of hunger, the constant danger of living on the streets, exhaustion, depression, and social rejection - all by their own choice. They wanted to find out if their faith was real, if they could actually be the Christians they said they were apart from the comforts they'd always known...to discover what it feels like to be homeless in America."

Apparently this book has been out for several years, but this is a newly updated version with more stories from the author's time on the streets, and a follow-up interview to see where he and Sam are now, and how the experience has shaped them.

Back when I was a senior in high school (lo, twenty-plus years ago!), my mom, brother, aunt, and I got up at o-dark hundred on Sunday mornings and drove to an underpass in downtown Salt Lake to help feed the homeless with an all-volunteer group. I remember feeling excited when my mom had mentioned to me what she wanted to do, but that first Sunday when she woke me up at 5:00 a.m. for the drive, I was not excited at all. It was cold, dark, and miserable. Once there, though, the reality that these men and women were dealing with that all night, every night, quickly humbled me.

Even before reading this book, I had been thinking back a lot on those experiences and how rewarding it felt to be able to help - to brighten their day for even just those few moments. I like to think that it made me a better person, not because I was doing something wonderful, but because I could see what it meant to them. I feel like my kids have really missed out and need to see what life under the overpass is like too...

This book brought all those lessons I learned long ago rushing back home.

Through scene after scene, Mike shows us what it is like to be homeless. As he puts it, "An ongoing struggle to find safety, a place to sleep, a bathroom, and food becomes dehumanizing for anyone. One experience at a time, a person's sense of dignity and sense of self-worth gets stripped away."

In this book, Mike tackles hard subjects like drug and alcohol abuse, mental illness, and violence with his caring and honest search for answers. He also covers the reaction that they got from people who are "Christians," part of the body of Christ. Sadly, many of those were not good experiences for them.

Driving over the top of our personal overpasses, it's easy to be desensitized and to stop seeing those that need our help, or even actively avoiding them.

I am so glad that I chose this book, and I will definitely be keeping it and re-reading it again and again, as well as sharing it with friends and family. This is a touching read - one that can't help but change your preconceived ideas about homelessness and how we, as Christians, should be responding.

To read an excerpt from the book, click here.

There is also a special Christmas Action Plan that can be accessed here.

Please stop by here to rate my review - it can help me win a prize... :o)

Outside - at You Capture

2010-12-16T09:54:00.000-07:00

This week's assignment at You Capture was to head outside. We had a major snowstorm/blizzard a couple of weeks ago, making for beautiful deep snow in the yard, but this last week has been warm and rainy (and foggy! I am SO SICK of driving to work in a fog - I do that well enough on my own, thank you), melting all the snow and leaving a muddy, brown mess.

Determined to pick up the camera from its forced hiatus (i.e., my class that sucked up every spare second of my time, plus quite a few extras), Savannah and I headed up Blacksmith Fork Canyon last Sunday right before the sun set. We found this scene at a pretty little park where I took approximately 5 photos before my battery died. (Note to self: next time, LOOK at the battery icon before heading out).

Thankfully (and I honestly can't believe I'm saying that!) it snowed again, so yesterday I brought my camera with me and grabbed a few shots. It was truly beautiful, and I'm grateful for the photo assignment or I'd have probably stayed bundled up and never taken these.

Now if it would just stay off the roads!

Karma, or this is what you get when you throw your daughter under the bus...

2010-12-09T19:42:00.001-07:00

First, let me say how nice it is to be able to blog again! I turned in the final portfolio for my non-fiction class today, so I-Am-Done!!! I'm trying to decide if I can/should take the advanced writing class next semester, or if I should give my poor, wearied mind a break. My thoughts on this change about every 5 minutes.

Anyhoo, I'm long overdue for a post, so here goes. :o)

Back in October, Savannah and I were both in desperate need of a haircut, so we headed off to my favorite hair cutting place. The cost is reasonable, it's not too far from home, and my favorite stylist gives the most incredible, relaxing scalp massages that I've ever received. I seriously would go in daily if I could afford it, just for the massage!

Anyway, when Savannah and I got there, there were only two stylists: My favorite, hereafter referred to as the Angel, and scary-haired skunk-head. Skunk-head had given me my last haircut, and I never could quite get it to style as well as it normally does. Savannah has also had her for a previous cut, just to get her bangs trimmed, and she hated them. They looked fine to me...

"Who wants to go first?" skunk girl asked, her enthusiasm about like mine when I go for a root canal.

"She does!" Savannah and I both emphatically said, looking at one another simultaneously.

I had been watching the angel work on her current customer and could see that she was nearly finished. It had been three long months since she had last cut my hair, and my scalp was not going to be deprived!

Pulling the "Mommy" card, I firmly told Savannah: "You go first. I'll go ahead and wait a minute longer," trying to make it sound like I was doing a selfless service. I'm sure the poor girl could tell that neither of us wanted her to touch our hair, but what could I do? Savannah trudged over to her chair, resignedly, barely speaking two words throughout the entire haircut.

For the record? I thought her hair looked fine. After all, how much damage can be done to just a trim? Savannah, of course, disagreed. Feeling more than a little guilty for throwing her under the bus like I did, I gave an oath in blood that from now on I would only take her to MasterCuts in the mall, her favorite.

As for me? My massage was divine, as was the haircut!

Now let's fast forward to a week ago...

I again needed a haircut, so I stopped off at the salon on Monday. As I drove into the parking lot, I could see skunk-head sitting, reading a magazine, waiting for some hapless customer.

Ha! It was not going to be me, so off I drove...

Wednesday night I drove by again. I really needed a haircut. I could see only one stylist working through the window, one I knew did a decent job, even if she wasn't the angel. In I went.

"What can we do for you?" she asked, taking a break from the person's hair that she was working on.

"I just need a good trim," I answered, already heading towards the magazine rack to settle in for the wait.

Suddenly, appearing from her lair in the back where she'd been lying in wait, came skunk-head.

So, now my bangs are half-an-inch too short (this, after I very carefully told her that I didn't want to look like a kindergartener - leave them a little below the eyebrows) and decidedly crooked.

Crap... Guess that's what I had coming.

A Heartfelt Poem for Winter

2010-11-08T23:38:00.002-07:00

I've been thinking about poetry a lot here lately. I'm taking a memoir-writing class this semester at the college, so in my first essay I wrote in part about how, in 9th grade, I had to memorize Longfellow's poem, The Children's Hour. Then in my last post about autumn, Elizabeth Barrett Browning's poem captured magnificently the feeling of the season.

A good poem can express so succinctly what a long-winded essay (my personal specialty) can never do.

I remember in high school and junior high having to write poems, which I was never very good at. Oh, I had your typical teen angst, love lost, type that gushed out after one of many breakups. But these in class had to have form and purpose and thoughtfulness.

Worst of all I hated Haiku's. I never could understand them - what purpose was there in three lines, a set number of syllables, and a lack of rhyming? How could they call themselves a poem?

Now that I'm older, I find that my tastes are changing in everything from food, to books and -- wouldn't you know it? -- in poetry. With the first real snowfall of the season steadily coming down outside my window all day today, I decided to give Haiku's another try, to fully capture the essence of winter, and my emotions, swirling and diving like the flakes, around it.

ODE TO WINTER
Frigid snows, they blow,
Metaphorically speaking.
Away now, damn it!

Awww... the power of the written word!

Enjoying Autumn before it's gone

2010-10-27T20:57:00.005-06:00

The Autumn

by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Go, sit upon the lofty hill,
And turn your eyes around,
Where waving woods and waters wild
Do hymn an autumn sound.
The summer sun is faint on them --
The summer flowers depart --
Sit still -- as all transform'd to stone,
Except your musing heart.

How there you sat in summer-time,
May yet be in your mind;
And how you heard the green woods sing
Beneath the freshening wind.
Though the same wind now blows around,
You would its blast recall;
For every breath that stirs the trees,
Doth cause a leaf to fall.

Oh! like that wind, is all the mirth
That flesh and dust impart:
We cannot bear its visitings,
When change is on the heart.
Gay words and jests may make us smile,
When Sorrow is asleep;
But other things must make us smile,
When Sorrow bids us weep!

The dearest hands that clasp our hands, --
Their presence may be o'er;
The dearest voice that meets our ear,
That tone may come no more!
Youth fades; and then, the joys of youth,
Which once refresh'd our mind,
Shall come -- as, on those sighing woods,
The chilling autumn wind.

Hear not the wind -- view not the woods;
Look out o'er vale and hill-
In spring, the sky encircled them --
The sky is round them still.
Come autumn's scathe -- come winter's cold --
Come change -- and human fate!
Whatever prospect Heaven doth bound,
Can ne'er be desolate.

For more autumn pictures, visit Beth at You Capture...

For Grandpa...

2010-10-19T17:37:00.004-06:00

Living in Idaho, I first got my driver’s license when I was 14. Due to the excess of “spud-miners” who needed cheap labor (aka: young teenagers), the powers-that-be in this potato-rich state made the dubious decision to grant daytime-only driver’s licenses to 14-year-olds, of which I had finally become. I knew I was more than ready to take on the world, or at least the roads. Now that I have my own teenagers, I am firmly in the camp that believes 18-years-old should be the limit – at a minimum!

My grandpa was a piano tuner by trade, and he also happened to be totally blind, which meant he had to hire a driver to ferry him around to his different appointments. Once I got my license, I became his “favorite” Saturday driver. The story below is my stab at recreating one of many favorite stories he regaled me with as the two of us traipsed from job to job.

* * *

Lewiston is located at the confluence of the Clearwater and Snake Rivers in northern Idaho where the rivers converge before emptying into the Columbia River. The town sits on the eastern side of the Snake River; westward, on the other shore, lays the state of Washington and Lewiston’s sister city, Clarkston. Much like its namesake, Meriwether Lewis of the famed Lewis and Clark expedition, the small town of Lewiston, Idaho, has always attracted the adventurous. First settled by gold miners in 1861, it became the first capital of the newly-formed Idaho Territory, although it quickly lost that distinction as the gold rush turned to parts further south in the rugged Sawtooth mountain range. Despite the change in fortune, the town continued to grow, eventually becoming the site of the Lewiston State Normal School (which is still running as the Lewis and Clark State College today), where Grandpa Frank attended.

It was 1932, and included among the more recent group of adventurers were two young 19-year-olds, excitedly making their way to a dust-covered Ford Model-T sitting in the dirt lot outside the mens’ residence hall at the Normal School, situated at the top of a hill overlooking the town’s business district. It was a beautiful fall day, God’s gift in October before the coming winter, the sun shining steadily down but with enough of a breeze to make the sweaters both boys wore a little too warm. Taking a well-deserved break from their studies, Frank, at a strapping six-feet tall, loosely grasped the left shoulder of his friend Jesse with his right hand as they made their way to the vehicle. They stuck together all the way down the stairs and across the large expanse of lawn, listening to the leaves crunching satisfactorily beneath their feet, finally reaching the car itself.

Letting go of Jesse’s shoulder, Frank lovingly stroked the still-sleek black paint of the car – a 1926 Model-T Touring Car – walking around the back, trailing his fingertips down the side, until he reached the driver’s side door. Even though the nation was still in the stranglehold of incredibly hard economic times, “the Great Depression” Frank had heard it called (like there was anything great about it), Jesse’s family had managed to stay afloat. In fact, he had been granted the use of one of the family cars to get back and forth to the farm when he could escape his studies long enough to help out.

Feeling more than a slight thrill, Frank opened the driver’s door and climbed in. He fumbled his feet around the pedals until he figured out which was the accelerator and which was the brake, with coaching from Jesse, who then handed him the key. Hands shaking slightly, Frank turned the key and felt the rumbling power set his feet and hands to vibrating – whether from the power of the engine or the anticipation and accompanying nervousness about his first time driving a car, it was hard to tell. Jesse was close by at his shoulder.

“Okay. Ease your foot off the brake and go straight ahead until I tell you…”

“Like this?” Frank asked.

“Exactly! Get ready to make a 45-degree turn when I tell you, but be sure to go slow. Not yet…not yet…not yet… okay, NOW! Good, now tap the brake a little bit to slow down some… Easy over this bump…”

“Let’s drive over to Talkington Hall,” Frank suggested, once he’d become a little more comfortable behind the wheel. Talkington Hall was the women’s dorm that had recently been built on the other side of campus. Just like today’s college freshmen, they were out to see and be seen! On they drove like this, Frank listening intently to Jesse’s detailed instructions, following them word for word, all across campus, making turns, stopping for pedestrians, gaining speed on the straight ways, just like any other driver on the road. In the distance Frank could hear the blasting horns of tugboats on the waterfront just a few blocks away from campus, getting ready to make their 465-mile journey back to the ocean, back to open waters, and the freedom they represented.

“Man! What I wouldn’t do to just keep driving this thing…” Frank said, with a slight wistfulness. They had completed their tour and were headed back the way they came, back, back, back to the little dirt lot outside their dorm. As he inched his way into a large, clear spot on the end of the row furthest away from their dorm, Frank could hear the buzz of voices around him.

"Did you SEE that?!” an incredulous voice rose up above the others. “That Collins guy was driving Jesse’s car!!! I can’t believe he’d even let him try something like that. He must be crazy!!!” Around him, others agreed.

Jesse came around to the driver’s side, waiting for Frank to get out. Once again, he offered his friend a shoulder, which was gripped under a sturdy hand, and they skirted the small crowd that had gathered. As they climbed back up the steps of the dorm, they both began to laugh uproariously, Jesse with his blind friend Frank, walking proudly behind him.

* * *

The reason for my long absence from the blog is that I'm taking a Memoir-Writing class this semester, and I've been completely buried! This paper is a scene I had to create for a longer piece that is due in a few weeks. I’ve taken the bare bones of the story Grandpa told me and tried to imagine it as it would have been. The name of the friend was long forgotten by me (if I ever knew it at all), so I took the liberty of using the name of one of his dearest friends, who was also blind, and put it in here in honor of them both. After hours and hours of research, writing, and rewriting, I finally turned in a different version of this piece. Unfortunately for me, I ultimately decided that none of this fits in the essay I'm trying to write, so it's back to the drawing board.

However, I didn't want to waste what I'd done, so I hope you'll enjoy it! I'd also love to get some feedback. Let me know what's working, and what isn't. I promise to surface again soon... :)

Ahhh... Sweet Victory!

2010-09-28T22:06:00.005-06:00

The words I have come to fear most in life are these:

"MOMMMMMM... I need help with my math homework!!!" Savannah, my 6th grader urgently calls to me, night after night. Sometimes I stay where I am, hoping she'll figure it out on her own and leave me out of it, or at least if I'm quiet enough she'll think I've gone outside. I've already been through 6th grade, thank you very much, and once was enough.

"MOMMMMMM!!!"

Resigned to my fate, I trudge into the bedroom where Savannah sits scowling at the computer, and I peek over her shoulder to the screen to look at the problem: good old Number 22. Of course, it just has to be a story problem; it always is. Story problems and I had a parting of the ways 'round about 4th grade, and we've hated each other ever since. Who cares what "X" is, and why can't they just come out and tell you? In English they teach you to write succinctly, leaving out the fluff and including only the stuff that matters. Well, apparently X matters, so why not just give it to us straight instead of trying to confuse us?! The only "X" I ever liked was the X-Files, you know that great 90's show with FBI agents Scully and Mulder? Man I loved that show! Remember the episode where... Oops - I digress... Math does that to me.

After the sobbing (mine) subsides, I take another look at the problem.

"Okay, where's your book?"

"We don't have one. We just have to learn in class and then do the worksheet that's on the math website at home."

Well of course... what use would there be in sending a book home for students to learn from? And what, exactly, did I pay a "Textbook Fee" for when I handed over the many hundreds of dollars it took to register my kids for their "free" public education a mere four weeks ago?

Sighing, I read the problem again, grabbed a notebook, and stole Savannah's pen. I put myself in time-out in the kitchen and gave myself a pep talk: "Okay Tracy - You are a grown woman! You have a brain in your head, now use it! You are an English major, and you are not going to be scared by a wimpy little consonant on a piece of paper!" Within a few minutes, I figured it out, then went in and taught Savannah how to do it.

I am so pumped up right now, I feel like I could take on a polynomial or two, or at least a little long-division. OH YEAH, BABY. BRING IT ON!!!

New Family Member

2010-08-27T21:11:00.002-06:00

Savannah (11) has been going through that phase for several years where she constantly asks why she can't have a baby sister (emphasis on the sister part - I guess she thinks we have more than enough testosterone in the house). I have kindly explained to her again and again that ~~MAMA'S ON THE HOME STRETCH!!~~ I'm no longer medically able to have children, what with getting my tubes tied and then a little thing called a hysterectomy shortly thereafter just for good measure.

She's finally gotten the fact that I, physically, am not going to have a baby just so she'll have a plaything whose hair she can fiddle with when the feeling hits. So she's moved on to adoption, especially since some friends at church have adopted several children from Haiti. I can count on at least one pleading-for-adoption conversation a week and, failing that, discussions about the children she's going to adopt when she gets married (which I think is great; nothing wrong with it. I'm sure by the time she's 43, which is when she's allowed to begin dating, she'll be mature enough to make that commitment). We've even had conversations about fantasy children that I might adopt.

HER: "So if you HAD to adopt, what would you get?"
ME: "I don't have to, so there's no point talking about it."
HER: "But say you did..."
ME: "I don't, so it's not going to happen."

{Repeat conversation 23 times}

HER: "What if we became filthy rich, could we at least adopt a horse?"
ME: "Huh?!!! How'd we move to horses?"

Lately, though, Tom and I have been talking about a new addition to our household. We've talked, looked over the budget, debated, listed the pros and cons, talked about whether we could love her like the others, even if she was different. This is not a decision to take lightly or on a whim, so we've just been discussing it and playing it by ear. We hadn't even really talked about specifics - what characteristics we were hoping for.

Earlier this week, however, he did the unexpected and brought her home, paperwork already filled out: fully and finally a member of our family.

Isn't she beautiful?!!! :)

She's the lone Nissan in a family full of Chevy's and GMC's, but I know with a little love and tenderness, she's going to fit in just fine...

Homecoming

2010-08-21T23:16:00.000-06:00

The boys both came home last Sunday, very late. Braden, of course, had only been gone for little over two weeks (although it really seemed like much longer), but Evan had been gone for 11. In some ways that time sped by, and in others it lasted forever...

Anyway, I was very excited and anxious to have EVERYONE home where they belong. Evan's girlfriend Cheyann came with Savannah and me to the airport to pick them up; we figured we'd have just enough room in my car for the five of us plus luggage. After a wait, we got their luggage and lugged it all out to the car and hit the road.

As we were driving home, Braden asked if we could please, please, please stop somewhere to get something to eat as it was almost midnight and they hadn't yet had dinner. I pulled off at a McDonald's just off the freeway near Roy, but noticed that there were about 5-6 cop cars in one half of the parking lot, lights going, and many men in uniform milling around, which was a little strange. However, there were several cars in the drive-thru, so they obviously hadn't closed the McDonald's so I got in line. We ordered our food and were pulling forward when all of a sudden, my car died.

"Hmmm... I must have let off too much on the clutch," my tired brain whispered to me. So I pushed the clutch all the way to the floor and tried again.

Nothing.
Again.
Nothing.
Again...

You know where I'm going with this. There were other cars behind us, so the boys (Evan in his Class A uniform) had to get out and push us out of the line. I had to walk through the drive-thru to get our order (something I would have loved to do when I was about 14, but not so much now) and then back to the now-defunct and dejected looking car.

Tom had just replaced the radiator in it 2 weeks previously, so I knew it hadn't overheated (besides, I've been paying close attention to that when I was having the problems with the radiator). So what could it be? I called Tom, then called again, and again. Drat - he's a heavy sleeper, IF he even had his phone nearby. More than half the time he leaves it in his truck at night so he won't forget it the next day. I felt like there were too many of us to pile into a tow truck, and besides all of which, I'd probably have to sell one of the kids to pay for the tow! I finally broke down and called my mom, knowing that I was probably going to scare her to death with such a late call. She got my uncle on the phone and he walked me through checking the radiator, etc. I finally told him to listen to the sound it was making, so I got in, pushed in the clutch and turned it over, when of course it fired right up! I hurriedly loaded all the kids back in the car (they were eating on the grass and watching the crime scene investigation as it played out) and off we went to my parent's, where Dave promised to take a look.

Once there my mom convinced me to take her car home so that we wouldn't break down in the canyon and become cougar-bait or worse :). We finally made it home, but it was close to 2:00 a.m., then Evan and I stayed up talking until almost 4:00 a.m. which is a good thing since I haven't had more than 5 minutes with him since - he's been busy visiting friends and running around, trying to shove an entire summer into a week before school starts. On another note, he also bought his first vehicle, but that's a story for another day!

Welcome home boys - now PUSH!

The Final Countdown

2010-08-15T18:28:00.001-06:00

So excited! I get to see BOTH my boys in 4 hours and 38 minutes. But who's counting...??? :-)

So, before I leave for the airport to pick them up, I thought I'd better hurry and get the rest of our vacation photos up. You know, closing down this chapter and starting a new one! So, I'll be light on words (y'all can thank me later!) and heavy on photos.

So after we deserted the RV resort from hell, we made our way to Durango, Colorado which I swear is a little slice of heaven dropped down to earth. Scenery was beautiful, the town is charming, the RV resort we found was SO FRIENDLY, and there was even a pool for the kids. The sad thing is, when making the original reservations I had narrowed it down to this one and Satan's playground. Ah well... live and learn!

Anyway, we rode the Durango to Silverton old narrow-gauge railroad which was the highlight of the trip for all of us. I have never been so enchanted in all my life. The trip takes you high into the San Juan mountains to places that are only reachable by backpacking, helicopter, or the train. Stunningly gorgeous does not even begin to describe it!

Beware - you never know what monsters lurk in the deep!

See that curve? It was tight, and man was there a drop-off!

One of my favorite parts of the trip: Because it's a steam engine, they have to do a "blow-down" at several stops along the way to clear out the minerals that are deposited in the bottom due to the water. You also stop once each way to get more water, which is pumped up from the river in the valley below. It was soooo cool!

For a reasonable price you could buy a souvenir coffee mug and have it refilled endlessly. Here, I think Braden had consumed at least 3 coffees with caramel and whipped cream!

And here, the inevitable sugar-crash... :)

After a 3.5 hour train ride, we reached the old mining town of Silverton. Here we had lunch, then wandered around taking in the sights.


With all the cool, old buildings to see, Tom found an old Army vehicle to crawl around. I don't believe there was a single square inch under, around, or on top that he didn't check over! This is not an uncommon theme for him... :)

Fun with Photos

2010-08-11T23:04:00.004-06:00

Tomorrow was supposed to be the day that Evan flies home from Basic Training, after graduation in the morning. Josh and Braden drove to Fort Jackson today in order to surprise him for "Family Day," and they are attending his graduation tomorrow. Anyway, Ev was supposed to fly in tomorrow night at 11:30 p.m., which late hour, I will admit, I was not that excited about. But then Josh was able to arrange for him to return to Tennessee with him tomorrow, and then he and Braden will both fly home together on Sunday.

:-(

So now I wait for 3 more days... Sigh...

Actually, even though I was looking forward to it, I can wait 3 more days (after all, what's that after 10+ weeks?), and I'm really glad that the brothers are all getting time to be together. With the way they're all growing up so fast, this may be one of the last opportunities they have for this.

Anyway, I will continue with the photos from our trip in the next day or two, but tonight I wanted to show off a few more from my photography class, which also fit nicely with the "Everyday Things" assignment for You Capture, along with a few I've played with in my favorite new toy, Adobe Lightroom. What an AWESOME program, and I've barely scratched the surface! Most photos are SOOC, including the first photo of both the flower and the truck. The ones I've played with are fairly obvious :).

I would love to hear some feedback...

And finally, by popular demand (Nicole :) )

Vacation - Part I

2010-08-09T22:48:00.001-06:00

As promised, here's more from the vacation, almost two months behind us now... :(

We began our adventure with a stop in Moab to spend the night. We stayed at a rinky-dink RV park right in town where trailers were what seemed like a mere 2 feet apart. I may exaggerate a little, but not much. We had several spots to choose from, so we picked a nice looking area and got set up. Shortly after, Tom and Bray went driving around town to see the sights, leaving Savannah and me to get dinner and relax. Five minutes after they left, a biker gang (and not the Christian Motorcycle group either!) pulled in and set up camp in the 3 vacant spots right across from us. The rest of our evening was spent watching them get more and more drunk, but at least it was entertaining.

The next day, after visiting the Hole in the Rock, we drove to our destination, an RV place near Dolores, Colorado. When we were planning our vacation, I had studied up on all the RV parks in southwestern Colorado, spending countless hours weighing the pros and cons of each. I finally settled on the one I made reservations for because it *seemed* like it was in a central location for all we wanted to do, had a river running right through, had fire rings for my campfire-loving honey, and had the widest spots so we could spread out and enjoy ourselves. They also advertised themselves as being "family friendly," with a playground even, so I booked us for 3 nights. Boy was I wrong! Although it was a beautiful spot, it was much further away from things than I had thought (sure didn't look far on Google maps!), and the majority of the inhabitants were a motley collection of the world's most cantankerous senior citizens. If they didn't have a seething hatred for children and large dogs, they were apparently not allowed in. From the moment we entered, we endured glares, and you could almost sense an evil aura, something I never would have believed in before.

On our second day there, after an incredible half-day at Mesa Verde National Park, we happily returned to our campsite to find half a dozen (at least) gathered around our trailer. Seems Stitch, our black lab (who's the world's biggest couch potato - the doggy-version of a slug), had been crying the entire time we were gone. We had left him in his crate, which he loves and where he will purposely stay for hours, knowing that if we had just tied him up he would have cried. However, rather than just leave him be, several of our new neighbors took it upon themselves to camp out at our campsite and wait to lynch us for our abuse when we returned. Never one to disappoint, Stitch howled mournfully the whole time they sat there. Had they left him alone, he would have quieted down within minutes. It was quite the experience, and one I certainly hope to never repeat. I won't repeat some of the things that were said to us, but if my children ever acted like those so-called caring adults did, they would have found themselves in some serious trouble.

Anyway, after that we decided that we'd had enough of that RV park and forfeited our final night's deposit in favor of friendlier accommodations; preferably one where they didn't eat small children.

Regardless, we really did have a great time at Mesa Verde, and even went on a paid tour of the Balcony House ruins which are reported to be some of the most well-preserved in the park. The pictures from our whole trip were all shot in automatic, just because I hadn't taken my class yet. I'm thinking a do-over is in order, minus Dolores!

Oops – I Did it Again!

2010-08-07T00:49:00.001-06:00

With apologies to Ms. Spears...

When we last encountered the Jones' family matriarch, she was making empty promises about posting more often and giving a detailed account of the family's summer. Well, I think we all know how that worked out, as here we are a month (at least) later!

Anyway, here's the Reader's Digest condensed version of our entire summer:

Dropped Evan off for basic training

Went on vacation where the kids and I were thoroughly sand-blasted in Arches National Park in Utah, visited Mesa Verde National Park in Colorado, and rode the old narrow-gauge steam engine from Durango to Silverton, also in Colorado. We had a near-death experience with a raging posse of killer-ninja-mutant old-people in an ancients-only RV park in Dolores, CO and also inadvertently freaked out a policeman who had pulled us over with my desperate need of a restroom. I had informed Tom roughly 100 miles before that I needed a restroom whenever he could see fit to pull over. He said that he would and then promptly forgot. Finally becoming desperate, I reminded him of his promise and he pulled over immediately, seeing as how his life depended on it, or at least the pristine state of his truck seats. The policeman was just approaching the window as I barked at my dear husband to hand over the keys to the trailer, RIGHT. FLIPPING. NOW. then sprinted to the door like an Olympian. The policeman, who had apparently been following us for awhile as Tom looked for a place to pull off, took pity on Tom and let him go without even so much as a warning. I wouldn't have cared if he'd been hauled off to jail, so long as I got to use that lovely porta-potty!

Weeded a gigantic garden patch

Planted a gigantic garden patch

Weeded a gigantic garden patch

Watered a gigantic garden patch

Weeded a gigantic garden patch

Ate a squash and 10 pea pods from the garden, all that has grown so far besides the gargantuan weeds. Got sick after realizing that each pea pod cost the equivalent of $23.50 each, give or take a few dollars…

Vow never to plant another garden, at least until next year when I will fondly remember how sweet and crisp the peas were. What's a few-hundred dollars for a nice handful of fresh-grown veggies?

Savannah and I spent an awesome weekend in Idaho eating the incredibly sinful and delicious food cooked by my cousin-in-law Chris. And spending time with my good friend and cousin, Karen. And spending oodles of hours gazing into the precious face of baby Jackson, my newest cousin. And spending time with my bestest friend since sixth grade, Dawn and her adorable son Bryson. And stuffing myself with Chris' German pancakes. And hanging out with an aunt and uncle I don't see nearly enough. And walking along the Falls trail, downtown, practicing my photography. Oh yeah, there was the Blue Angels air show going on next door too, which was definitely worth seeing… And did I mention the food?!!!

Took my photography class - best money I ever spent! I never would have learned what my camera can do without it and I will NEVER go back to automatic settings... See http://brookesnow.com for details about her classes.

Shipped Braden off to Tennessee for 2 ½ weeks to stay with Josh and Jess, also referred to as "Joshica."

All this while working a full-time job (with a dash of annual leave thrown in!)...

Next up: Evan comes home in 6 days, Braden 3 days after that, school for the kids starts 11 days later, and 4 days after that I start a class at the University, my first in almost 2 years!

See you in December…:)

p.s. Today's photos are all from the weekend trip to Idaho. I'll post vacation pictures soon, I PROMISE.


We saw the most beautiful sunset on our trip home, which was almost outdone by the moon that rose after the sun went down. Stunning trip from beginning to end!

Savannah was once-again forced to be my practice model. She was being a bit of a smart-aleck about it, then bonked her head against the tree. Just the universe's way of teaching her to respect her mother!

Where'd June go?

2010-07-10T23:18:00.003-06:00

Wow, I CANNOT believe that it has been over a month since I posted something! I had told myself I was going to quit doing that, and yet, here I am...

I must say that I haven't been totally ignoring my blog. I think about writing and log in at least a few times a week, look at my bee-yoo-timous photo on the last post, then shut it down again. June and July have been pretty busy months, as far as summer's go, but part of me (I'll be honest - a BIG part of me) has felt guilty for enjoying the summer since Evan's been gone to basic training. It's not that I haven't missed him, because I have! I think about him always, and pray for him constantly (I sometimes think I must sound like a persistent 2-year-old to God: "Dad, dad, dad, dad, dad..." He hasn't barked at me in frustration yet, as I would, so it must be okay). I stop what I'm doing about fifty times a day and wonder what he's doing at that exact moment, and I anxiously check the post office daily to see if there's been a new letter from him, which is truly a new experience for me because I loathe going to the post office - all it ever holds are money-sucking bills or umpteen subscription invitations to National Geographic. At least, I assume the letters are from him, although he never signs his name to them. Apparently I forgot to teach him etiquette about letter-writing and the importance of signatures, or punctuation for that matter! It's hell on my children having a mother who's an English major ;0)

Anyway, I know it's pretty silly to feel guilty, so I'm really going to try and get past it. I keep telling myself, "Evan chose this path for himself, and I shouldn't short-change the memories the rest of us have made while he's been gone. Next summer's going to be the same thing, with him going off to AIT training, so I'd better suck it up and get used to this "aging children" thing." Still, I never thought it would be this hard. Sigh...

So here's the quick version, and I'll fill in more details over the next few days or weeks, depending on the craziness in my life.

A few weeks after Evan left, we took off to southern Colorado for a week's vacation, visiting Arches National Park in Moab, then Mesa Verde and Durango in Colorado. The weather was kind of spotty for most of the trip, but the two days that we went to Mesa Verde and Durango to spend the majority of the time outside, the weather couldn't have been more perfect! There were some ups and downs to the trip, but overall it was great, and we definitely needed it. I'll write more and post pictures in the coming days.

Shortly after returning, Tom found out about a "lease" of a camping space at a place up by Hardware Ranch, called the Lazy S Ranch. This type of situation has always been a dream of his, so we went to check it out. I knew he was a goner as soon as we got there, and I was right. Two days later, we purchased our spot for the rest of the year (good until October 1) and I haven't seen him on a weekend since, although I know when he's been home by the aroma of mosquito-repellent soaked clothing that gets dumped in the laundry! It's a great place, but man are those bugs vicious...

There's a beautiful stream (full of fish) that flows through the whole ranch and right next to our spot...

And we even get the pleasure of owning our own outhouse...

What more could a guy want? Doesn't he look happy and relaxed? He was actually snarling at me to quit taking his photo, but I caught him in a split-second where he looked like he was enjoying it :)

We all went up for the 4th of July weekend, including my two young cousins, Jeni and Aly. I have to admit, it's a great place, and I don't remember when the last time was that I've felt so relaxed! Unlike vacations, you can just sit and BE. No rushing hither and yon to see the sights. I literally spent an hour just sitting on the little bridge over the creek watching the play of light on the water, listening to it burbling over rocks, and listening to the sounds of birds (and mosquitoes!). I read an entire book, laughed at the dogs, kids, and husband (not necessarily in that order) and worked on my cross-stitch, which I haven't picked up in months. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on the outlook), I had extra work to do this weekend, so I had to stay behind. :( Hopefully I'll get back up there in the next week or two...

Finally, for one of the most exciting things (to me anyways): last week I had my first photography class! I signed up for it months ago, shortly after buying my new DSLR camera, which I've been totally using as a point-and-shoot because - I'll admit it - I'm clueless about this camera. The class meets once a week for 4 weeks, and I already learned so much the first day that I can hardly stand the wait for the next one. Who knew apertures could be so fun?! I've been busily doing my "homework," so here's a few shots to show what I've learned. These are all completely on a manual setting, straight out of the camera (SOOC).

And finally, a few of my favorite model! She was a good sport because I paid her off with lunch at McDonald's and allowed her to get an iced coffee. I love when children can be bribed :)

I promise to continue again soon...

One Hundred and ONE

2010-06-02T22:53:00.005-06:00

Today's You Capture challenge at www.ishouldbefoldinglaundry.com was to choose your best photo of the week. I took some really nice photos of this sweet neighbor boy of ours, but this is my favorite since it also captured the gorgeous sunset. What a nice way to end the day after hours and hours of digging weeds out of the garden! Some day I may even get to plant the darn thing. :-)

Milestones

2010-05-31T22:20:00.002-06:00

"And in today already walks tomorrow."

-- Samuel Taylor Coleridge

The past few weeks have been full of impending change, foreshadows of my future, rushing up to meet me before I'm really ready. Let me explain...

Several weeks ago was Savannah's "Wellsville Mile," a 1-mile race that all 4th and 5th graders in the south end of the valley compete in each year. To say it is a "big deal" to the kids is an understatement! I remember when the boys were both that age, standing outside for hours waiting for their heat, watching them race, and then sticking around for the awards ceremony at the end. It was always the highlight of their year, but one I can honestly say I came to dread. Each year it was dreadfully hot, there was never anywhere to sit, huge crowds of shrieking 9- and 10-year olds... what was to like? In addition, I always had to take several hours off work to go, precious annual leave that didn't accumulate near quickly enough. After Braden's last race, I was so excited because I knew it would be "years" before Savannah would be old enough and I'd "have" to go again.

Last week was Savannah's Wellsville Mile, most likely the last one I'll ever attend. It got rescheduled due to rain once, and I actually felt disappointment. My baby was running her last grade-school race... how dare it rain?!! They held it later that same week, even though the rain was even worse that day. The way it's going around here I think the organizers' figured that it would never get held if they didn't just do it. Savannah ran a very respectable 9:10 which was even more commendable given the coldness of the day. I wore my winter coat (but had no umbrella) and the rain was so bad that my pants were literally soaked from top to bottom, and the rain soaked THROUGH my coat in several places. It took me hours to warm up when I got back to work, hugging my space heater like a long-lost lover!

Last week was also Savannah's 5th grade graduation, her final day as an elementary school student. My baby is off to middle school next year, with high school just days away at the speed I feel things are happening.

Today we drove Evan to Salt Lake City, dropping him off at a hotel where he'll stay for two nights before flying off to South Carolina for Boot Camp. My baby is old enough for boot camp?!! How did that happen? Granted, he'll only be gone for 10 1/2 weeks this summer and will return to finish his senior year before he's off again for his AIT training and most likely a switch from National Guard to Active Duty Army. I'm feeling very thankful that I'm getting to take this leap into adulthood in two steps, but I think I am in disbelief that the days of having him at home (and Braden hot on his heels too) are really coming to a fast close.

I can vividly remember the days when the kids were all small; all the tears, diapers, fights, illnesses, tantrums, school "to-do's," etc., etc. and wishing that they were older, wishing for time for myself and my wants. Wishing, honestly, that I could just spend five minutes alone in the bathroom without having some small (or big) person banging on the other side of the door, demanding my attention that very minute and any other spare minute I might think I'd like to have. It seemed like the day would never come.

Now those days are breathing hotly down my neck, and I'm really starting to struggle with the changes that are already coming, and the bigger changes I know are next. It's exciting to see the young men and women they are all becoming (or in Josh's case, have become), but what I wouldn't give to go back and enjoy the moments that I didn't fully appreciate as the gifts they were. To change my attitude and hug each kid a little longer, a little tighter, and to take moments away from cleaning or cooking or helping with homework just to talk, and really listen to their excitement about the day.

I can't imagine how strange it's going to be not having Evan around all summer, but I'm going to focus on enjoying the next stage of the journey.

Speaking of milestones, this little blog of mine has reached one tonight: This is officially my 100th post. Here's to the next 100, whatever they may bring... :-)

Rainy days and Tuesdays...

2010-05-18T19:22:00.000-06:00

Today was going to be a wonderful day: Savannah was supposed to run in the Wellsville Mile, a big race that all the 4th and 5th graders in the south end of the valley compete in each year. This year will be her final one before entering the mad-dash world of middle school next year. In honor of the occasion, and because Braden also had an orthodontist appointment scheduled for later this afternoon, I scheduled the day off of work so I wouldn't have to keep dashing in and out. I was soooo looking forward to a few hours to myself, just relaxing. Unfortunately, the weather had different plans for the kids, so the race was postponed until Thursday (more on that later!).

But first, let me tell you about yesterday. Yesterday, on my way home from work, I was stopped at a stoplight, waiting for my chance to turn when -WHAM- the white-haired old lady in the car behind me rammed right into the back of my car with a pretty good wallop. Turns out that she was swatting at some sort of flying insect buzzing around her and not watching what was happening in front of her. We pulled over and looked at our vehicles, neither of which were really hurt. My rear taillight has a tiny crack, and it scuffed up my bumper, but nothing worse than what's already happened to it, and hers didn't look like anything had even happened. We exchanged information, "just in case," and I went on my merry way, enjoying the good high that only an adrenaline rush can give you, but thankful that it hadn't been worse.

Cut back to today: For approximately 3.7 seconds I told myself I should just head to work, but I quickly gave up that warped idea! Great! Now I would have the entire day to myself (at least until 3:30 p.m.) to do anything I want. I really want to get out again with my camera, but one look outside cured that desire. I thought about doing some scrapbooking, but didn't really feel like doing that either: too much of a mess to clean up. Reading a good book, uninterrupted, usually my heart's desire? I tried gamely, but just couldn't work up the interest. So what did I do? I watched umpteen-million episodes of house hunters or other shows of the same ilk and worked on getting all of the faces in my digital photo albums tagged. Do I lead an exciting life, or what? (yeah, yeah, I know it's the "or what," - no need to humor me).

As the day wears on I've noticed more and more a headache, my neck is stiffening up a lot, and is really quite sore. So great... I wonder how many days I should live with it before I go get it checked out? I hate to seem like one of those people that gets in a fender-bender and then claims to be disabled for life, but I also don't want to be the one to foot the bill if I end up having to get it checked out. What would you do?

On a brighter note, today is also my Aunt Lois' birthday, and I am so blessed to be her niece! Happy birthday, Lo! And in a weird way, it's also my "Un-Anniversary," as the ex and I selfishly hijacked her birthday for our wedding date all those years ago. Little did I know at the time that it would forever link the two events in my mind. If we had picked any other random day, I would probably never remember.

Anyhoo, I'm off to soak in some nice, near-scalding bathwater in the hopes that it will make my head feel better.

Mother Nature is a Definite Tease...

2010-05-06T22:17:00.002-06:00

"If spring came but once a century

instead of once a year,

or burst forth with the sound of an earthquake

and not in silence,

what wonder and expectation there would be in all hearts to behold the miraculous change!"

~~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I'm a day late (which is nothing new to those who know me well), but for the second week in a row I'm doing the "You Capture" challenge hosted at I Should be Folding Laundry. This week's topic? Spring, the redux.

For the last six months I have been scrimping and saving, eating endless leftovers in order to hoard lunch money, and slaving away doing side jobs to earn enough to buy my very first DSLR camera. I finally bought it a little over a week ago, but ever since then the weather has been nothing but miserable, thwarting all my grand plans of using the new toy. Today was another typical spring day here in ~~the Arctic~~ Utah, meaning that there was an expected high of 50, and snow in the forecast. What else would it do in MAY?

I have finally come to the conclusion that I will NEVER get to use the camera if I wait for perfect weather, so tonight after work, I braved the cold and took some "spring" pictures. I hate the weather but love, love, LOVE my new camera! And I have to say, I think the snow really adds a nice element. Enjoy the pictures while I go warm my frozen hands by the fire... ;-)

Regardless of the cold, I was struck again at what a beautiful creation God has given us!

Meanwhile, Back at the Ranch

2010-05-05T19:40:00.003-06:00

Or "Teenager's are a trip..."

Here's another appropriate quote I found this week, although this one is listed as "Author Unknown."

"It's difficult to decide whether growing pains are something teenagers have - or are."

Truer words were never spoken!!!

So here's the latest story: In my home, we have two teenagers, but only one of them has earned his driver's license. In mid-February, said teenager was pulled over by police on his way to school one day. Was he speeding? No. Was he weaving erratically through traffic? No. Was he talking on his phone or texting? NO. He was just a teenage boy on his way to school, minding his own business. However, when the policeman decided to run the plates, just for the fun of it, the vehicle came back as being uninsured. Cue flashing lights and siren!

Turns out that our insurance company had the wrong VIN number in the system, so the vehicle, even though actually insured, wasn't showing up as such. Frantic mom called the insurance company and they were nice enough to speak directly to the policeman, saving us an impound fee, but the policeman had already issued the citation and couldn't rescind it (which mom personally thinks is bunk, but who asked her). The insurance company also faxed us a letter stating that we did indeed have insurance on this particular vehicle, how long we'd had it, the fact that we'd never had any lapses, the usual. Now-subdued mom gave teenage boy the letter and reminded him that he needed to take it in to get the problem fully taken care of.

Now fast-forward to about a week ago. Mom picks up the mail, only to find a letter formally addressed to "Parents of neglectful child" stating that because said child had never gone in to formally prove we had insurance, he was not only being charged with being an uninsured motorist, but would have a warrant out for Failure to Appear if he didn't get his mangy butt in to the court by May 5th. Monday we took another copy of the letter from the insurance company and went to the court, assuming that the problem would end there.

Is anything in my life ever really that simple?

No. ** Sigh **

Because this child had waited so long, he would now have to appear on Wednesday (today) to speak to the Prosecutor. After standing in line to see the prosecutor, he explained that, even though they were able to dismiss the uninsured motorist charge, because it wasn't taken care of when it was supposed to, said child still had to go before the judge on the Failure to Appear and face a $207 fine. He recommended that the fine be dropped to $50, but emphasized that it was "ONLY a recommendation; the judge doesn't have to accept it." He gave us a paper and sent us to stand in line again at the Clerk's window, where we had started off the afternoon.

When it was finally our turn, the lady gave us an orange piece of paper, carefully making sure that we understood that, even though the recommendation was to drop the fine to $50, the judge didn't have to accept that." As we entered the courtroom, the judge, whom I actually grew to love by the time we were done, was informing the person up to bat that even though they had a recommendation by the prosecutor, she didn't have to hold to that. Gee - I think they wanted us to take note of that fact.

We then spent the next two hours watching person after person take the stand, most for no insurance, no registration, and suspended licenses. Excuse after excuse was offered, but the judge handled them all in a totally even-handed and even humorous manner, only chewing up and spitting out a few of them. Each sentence ended with x-amount of days in jail, suspended upon payment of fine. One man offered up the excuse that his wife threatened to buy a dog if he didn't sell his motorcycle. "One of those yappy little things!" he responded when the judge asked what kind, when explaining the reason that he took his beloved motorbike on a last, uninsured ride before selling it. When teenage-boy finally got his turn, the judge read through the file, and lo and behold, for probably the first time that day she agreed with the prosecutor's recommendation! The fine would only be $50. As she told the court stenographer what to write on the paperwork, when it came to the line about jail time, she looked at my boy and said, "he's too young, so we can't give him jail time, as tempting as it is!"

I really like this woman... :)

Spring?

2010-04-29T00:09:00.002-06:00

In the spring I have counted one hundred and thirty-six different kinds of weather inside of four and twenty hours. ~Mark Twain

Lately, I have been on a Mark Twain binge. At work a while back I was tasked with finding a quote by some now-deceased former Supreme Court judge, and in the process, stumbled across a treasure-trove of Mark Twain quotes. I truly don't believe there will ever be another quite like him! I swear I can find one of his quotations to match the circumstances of each and every day...

Anyway, I also recently stumbled across a blog I really like, "I Should be Folding Laundry." Each Wednesday she has a "You Capture" photo prompt that invites you to take and post your photos that have to do with the assignment of the week. For about the last 3 months I have intermittently taken the photos, but never get around to posting them for one reason or another. The assignment for today was "spring," a thought that is near and dear to my heart, being that I live in Utah and may never actually see that season for more than 3 days, after it quits snowing around the 4th of July and blasts into the oppressively heavy heat on July 7th through October 30th when we will hit winter head-on, once again.

This morning we woke up to snow and pretty hefty wind gusts that managed to knock the basketball pole over, even though I can't move it on my own. I dashed outside to clean off my car and warm it up before heading to work, braving the wind which blew snow into my face. I drove off to work, but within a few miles of home the "low coolant" light on the dash started screaming at me with its bright red light, and when I looked at the temperature gauge, it was wayyyyyy hotter than it should have been in such a short time. I turned the car around and headed back home (which, apparently, I shouldn't have done. I should have sat there and waited for it to cool down. I didn't dare tell my hubby that I actually contemplated driving to work that way! Shhhhh....).

Once at home I cleaned all the snow off and transferred all my things into my Tahoe but, alas, the keys were nowhere to be found. Turns out Tom locked them away in his footlocker to remove any temptation they might hold for Evan, who, once again, finds himself grounded from driving until he's approximately 73. So, I stomp inside and ask where I might find the keys. I explain the problem, but get informed that the power steering on the Tahoe is messed up, so I should take Tom's '89 Chevy S-10 truck, "but first you need to get all my stuff out." After cleaning off yet another vehicle covered in snow, I get all his stuff out: sunglasses? check; wallet? check; gum? check; keys? check; work gloves? check, etc. etc. Man does he have a lot of stuff! When I go to move it into his newer Chevy S-10 truck, I discover the doors are locked, and none of the keys on the keychain I have work.

I stomp in the house again, where hubby has come awake enough now to know that he doesn't want me driving his truck. He puts on his overalls and flip-flops and heads out to fill my power steering fluid, back in the Tahoe. I finally am able to hit the road, a mere 40-minutes late for work, with the windshield wipers batting huge snowflakes away to a rapid beat. In an attempt to relax, I turn on the radio where I hear an advertisement for a local tire company:

Radio man, in a disgustingly happy voice: "Spring is finally here, and it's time to put away those snow tires! Blah, blah, blah..."

Really? You think spring is here, do ya?!!! I won't tell you what I told that nice man, but you can bet it wasn't even remotely ladylike....

Last week, when Mother Nature was teasing us in her mean and nasty way, Savannah and I went for a walk and took these photos:

She is way prettier than any spring flower!

Another "fun" thing we like to do around here is set things on fire, but you wouldn't believe how much work it actually is...

(Here, Savannah takes a break to harass the field mice).

Here's hoping that the sun comes back again soon!

Where's Chef Ramsey when you need him?

2010-03-23T22:55:00.002-06:00

I am sick to death of all the meals that I serve at home. And by all, I mean the three things that it seems like we eat on a never ending rotation: spaghetti, pork chops, and spanish rice with hamburger.

Okay, I MAY be exaggerating a little bit, but it really doesn't seem like it.

In almost 15 years of marriage, I think I have found 2 recipes that the WHOLE family likes. My heaven on earth would be an evening where my quiet, well-behaved children (if you're going to dream, dream big I always say) ask me what's for dinner. After I tell them, there would be a total absence of gagging noises, declarations of "I'm not eating," or a mad dash for the milk and cereal. When I'm really daydreaming, these angelic children even voluntarily clean the table and do the dishes without being forced, shortly before heading off to a quiet evening in their rooms, doing their homework.

Sigh....

Anyhoo, back to reality!

Because I'm so bored with everything we eat, and because I'm always on the lookout for some magic recipe that will be universally loved by all, I have been on a "new recipe" binge. When the hubby or the children ask me "what's for dinner?" my slight hesitation always lets them know that mom's at it again. Anguished cries are sent heavenward, but I figure that's what they get for not giving me any ideas when I make up the weekly grocery list. Bwaahahahaa...

Last week I tried a recipe for turkey steaks and potato stroganoff. The recipe came on the turkey steak package, and it sounded wonderful. I'm an Idaho girl through-and-through, so anything with potatoes wins me over. I bought all the ingredients and rushed home to make my newest masterpiece. I thinly sliced oodles of potates, diced onions, and chopped mushrooms, mixed it with the cream of mushroom soup and sour cream and spread it in my cake pan, just like the recipe instructed. I added the turkey steaks, and poured the remaining soup mix over the top. It didn't fit quite as nicely in my pan as it probably did in their test kitchen, but no matter! I wrapped it sturdily in aluminum foil and shoved it in the oven for 1-hour of baking. Dinner would be delicious and, best yet, ON TIME!

An hour later I came back, peeled off the aluminum foil, and speared a potato slice. Hmmmm... they didn't taste very done, so I put it back in, checking on it every 10 minutes. After 40. More. Minutes. (now after 9:00 p.m.), I tried another potato. Still not as tender as I'd have liked, but at least it was edible. In addition, the soup mixture had boiled over the sides and made two very large, lovely pools of gooey mess on the bottom. It had to be done, right?

I proceeded to dish Tom's plate, but when I tried to snag a turkey steak, it broke apart into a gooey, red mess. It was NOT done at all. At that point I had a small mommy melt-down, and we all ate cereal for dinner. After finally calming myself down, I dumped the whole shebang into the crockpot, figuring that I could cook it in that the following day, which is what I did, for many, many hours. The turkey was done but the potatoes STILL weren't. I threw the recipe away, and started looking for my next "must try."

Fast forward to last night. I was making my easy chicken parmesan, which has to be cooked at a fairly high temperature. I had the oven pre-heating while I sat at the table, engrossed in a book (damn that Twilight series!). Evan wandered in, asking what all the smoke was from.

"Huh?" I said. "What smoke?"

Around that same time, I glanced at the oven to see quite a large fire, burning away... In my panicked state, I couldn't remember how to put out the flames other than smothering it with salt. I couldn't find the large container of salt, so I was frantically shaking the little 99-cent salt shaker at it, which, no surprise, wasn't worth a pinch of salt ;-). Luckily, Evan was a little brighter than his mom, and beat it out with his t-shirt. Guess I'd forgotten to clean up the turkey-gravy mess that had spilled, one of a zillion chores I had planned for last weekend.

Tom knew better than to even ask when he got home; he just made some comment about the house being awfully smelly (this after a freezing hour-and-a-half with the windows and doors open).

"Hush, and eat your charcoal!"

You're as Cold as Ice

2010-03-10T22:43:00.002-07:00

For some reason, I'm getting more adventurous in my old age than I ever used to be, even during my "wild" (not!) teenage years. This past weekend, Braden, Savannah, and I rented snowshoes and went snowshoeing with some friends of ours from church, my first time ever. If you haven't ever been, you really owe it to yourself to try it! The day was beautiful and the snow was perfect, and even though we probably hiked 2 or more miles, my legs still functioned the next day... ;-)

The next day I dragged Tom out for a small snowshoeing excursion. Aside from the beauty and fun of the outing, it also gave us a chance to REALLY enjoy each others company and visit with each other - beyond the usual "How was your day? Really? That's Nice..." "What's for dinner?" and "Goodnight" that normally passes for in-depth conversation. During this, our talk turned to the kids. I happened to mention to him how handsome I thought Braden was becoming. In fact, I couldn't just leave it at that; I had to embellish a little, saying something along the lines of "if I were Braden's age, I would definitely have a crush on him - and he's such a kindhearted kid too!"

So tonight, Tom was trying to butter Braden up a little. As he was leaving the room to go downstairs to bed, Tom called him back.

"Hey Bray! Do you know what your mom told me the other day? She said that you're a total stud; that if she were your age, she would totally be after you, etc. etc. etc."

This was met with embarassed silence from both Braden and me. He quickly grinned and said goodnight, then practically ran for the stairs.

A minute later he popped his head around the door again, just enough to show his impish grin.

"Hey mom! If you weren't like 100 years old and didn't look like a dinosaur and you were my age..."

Is it too late to take back that part about him being nice and kindhearted?

P.S. As I was downloading photos, I received a text message from my little hottie: "Good night my love. If you don't mind, I would very much like it you could start singing "This land was made for you and me" loudly to soothe me to sleep." :-) Did I mention what a dork he is also?!

How boring would life be without kids! They truly make it all worthwhile...

Running the Rat Race

2010-03-03T22:33:00.006-07:00

Has anyone seen where February went? I turned my back for just a minute, and now it's gone...! So far, March seems to be racing away too.

So, a quick recap of the last few days:

Saturday: breakfast with my honey, followed by umpteen loads of laundry, cleaning the bedroom, and FIVE. LONG. HOURS. of cleaning my closet (which before this you literally had to shoulder to get the door shut and to keep a cascade of stuff from tumbling out. The closet that was NOT messed up by me! After slaving away for all those hours, I stood there admiring the floor, when Savannah came in to see my handiwork. Her eyes got really big, and she asked "Oooh, can I hang my stuff in here?!" I believe my head may have spun round on my shoulders a few times, eyes shooting sparks, as I hissed a very sound "NOOOO!"

Sunday: Church (we were actually ON TIME for the second week in a row! Or maybe they're just starting later. Whichever... it works for me!). Home to do 4 hours on a dissertation review, a particular form of torture I regularly inflict upon myself in the hopes of earning a little extra spending money. This year I am particularly lusting after a Digital SLR camera which, unfortunately, doesn't grow on a tree. I really enjoy editing (cough * cough * English nerd!), but it seems to be getting harder and harder to give up what little "free" time I do have on the weekends to do the work. I'd really like them to just give me money, with no particular due-date in mind!

Monday: Just another wild day at work; lunchtime spent meeting Evan at the cell phone store to replace yet another of his cell phones (at least he didn't drop this one in a toilet, instead he left it on the hood of his vehicle and then forgot to pick it up again. His girlfriend found it smashed to pieces on the road in front of her house); back to work, followed by a grueling workout at the gym. I've "unofficially" committed myself to run a 15K this summer with another crazy friend, so I've been trying to get my sad little self in gear so I won't drop over dead on her come July! Monday I decided it was time to kick it up a notch, and boy did I feel it. The sad thing is, I am still sooooo far away from being anywhere near being prepared, and the way time is flying, July will be here the week after next. If nothing else, I'm pretty sure I can walk 9.6 miles! Anyway, then a quick run-through at Wal-Mart randomly grabbing ingredients for at least 2 meals since I didn't get grocery shopping done this past weekend; home to cook dinner (baked spaghetti which only Tom and I would eat), then back to do another hour or so on the dissertation review. Bedtime already?!!!! Also had a wildly funny thing happen at work, but I'm still trying to figure out if I can blog about it. Don't want to get in trouble!

Tuesday: Work, lunchtime wherein I ran to the bank and made the house payment, got our "lunch allowance" for the next two weeks, ran to the thrift store to drop off all the clothes and ~~crap~~ miscellaneous from the great closet-cleanout, ran to the used bookstore to drop off all the ~~crap~~ books I cleared from the bookshelves, ran to the local craft store to check out a great sale I had heard about, talked myself out of a Cricut personal cutter because I have to keep my eye on the prize (the camera), bought lunch, made it back to work but had to park in the "Timbuktu" lot, and made it back to my office within 1-hour! More work, followed by my workout at the gym. Savannah went to a friend's house after school. When I gave my permission, I told her: "Make sure that R's mom knows that I won't be there 'til almost 7:00 to pick you up." Her reply? "She already knows." So when I drive to R's house to pick her up at 6:45, there's nobody there, and nobody answers the phone either. ??? Right as I was getting ready to call again, my cell phone rings. They had to go into Logan for a function, so they dropped Savannah off at the gym where I no longer was. Easy misunderstanding, so I drive my gas-guzzler back to town and pick her up. She looked so tiny and orphan-like sitting inside the doors, forlornly waiting for me. As we're getting ready to head BACK home again, Savannah reminds me "Don't forget that tomorrow's my play. And I need a costume." ACK! The play was on the Boston Tea Party - where on earth am I going to get a costume for that at 8:00 p.m.? We high-tailed it to the local thrift store, and with 20-minutes to spare before they closed found a dress that not only looked remarkably like we wanted, but it actually fit well too! I'm pretty sure God knew I was at my breaking point... ;-) Home AGAIN, but too late to make dinner so Tom and I had leftover baked spaghetti. I'm pretty sure the kids scrounged up something, but I was too tired to check.

Wednesday: I arranged with my boss yesterday to take today off so that I could actually accomplish some things that I never get done on the weekends. I curled Savannah's hair in approximately 357 ringlets for picture day, did 4 loads of laundry; unhooked our computer which has had a broken CD/DVD drive since about 2 weeks after I bought it and took it in for repair, hooked up the old computer (which I'm typing on as we speak. It didn't take more than about 5 minutes to remember WHY I got the new one as this one sucks. It has already crashed on me twice in the time it's taken me to type this blog); stopped at the hardware store to find the little "thingies" that hold up shelves in our kitchen pantry (currently a half-empty case of diced tomatoes and cream of mushroom soup is all that's keeping the shelf from collapsing); bought a new rug to go in front of the kitchen sink; downloaded the tax program I bought a month ago so that I can do our taxes; did our taxes; cried quietly over the fact that we're getting $1300 less back this year than we did last year; took Savannah back to school for the "Boston Tea Party" play that they did in support of "Literacy Night," always a chaotic time; bought MickeyD's for the kids' dinner; heated up yet another serving of ~~crap~~ baked spaghetti for me, and here I am.

And now I'm off to bed. Gee, I can hardly wait to see what tomorrow holds... Sigh.

My first try at digital scrapbooking

2010-02-19T10:54:00.001-07:00

I think it's only fair...

2010-02-08T21:47:00.000-07:00

For those of you who have children, you know that fifth grade is a big year - the time that the "dreaded" maturation program is shown to all the boys and girls at school. When Evan was in fifth grade, Tom was at Fort Lewis in Washington. I offered to go with Ev to the program, but he decided he was too cool to have mom show up for a "father/son" type event.

When Braden was in the same grade, Tom was working for a company in Afghanistan. I made Bray the same offer, and he accepted (I really didn't think he would!), so off I went. I think the whole ordeal was much more embarassing for me than it was for Braden as I sat in a room full of dads and little boys learning WAYYYY more than I ever wanted to know about males and puberty. I really had NO idea!

Tomorrow is Savannah's big day at school, and I think it's only fair that Tom should have to accompany her. ;-P

Homework time?

2010-02-07T20:15:00.000-07:00

Note the pencil still in her hand. Math still does this to me!

How do you put a title on this?!!!

2010-02-02T22:23:00.002-07:00

Several Sundays ago was "Sanctity of Life" week at our church. As part of that, members of a local pregnancy choices center that focuses on helping young girls dealing with unplanned pregnancies attended church that day, setting up a display table in the lobby. Many of the women in our church had made baby blankets to present to them, and there were baby bottles stuffed with change to help with the costs. Most popular with the younger kids were the "babies" - lifelike rubber babies the same size and details as a 12-week baby in the womb.

Savannah took one, of course. Unbeknown to us at the time, so did the boys.

Tom and I had to stay after church for a monthly business meeting, so we sent all three kids home with Evan in my car, and I rode with Tom.

Arriving home, this is what we saw attached to the front door:

Not sure what else to even say... Pray for me?!!

On the Lighter Side

2010-01-30T22:48:00.002-07:00

I thought I'd relate a funny moment from Evan's recent joining of the National Guard. The recruiter picked him up Thursday afternoon to take him to Salt Lake for the night so that he could be up and ready to go at 0500. :) Evan was pretty excited about the fact that he would get to stay in a 5-star hotel, and had been bragging to me about having a pool party.

I explained to him that we live in Utah, so there ARE no 5-star hotels (I'm sure we probably do have, but I've never had the opportunity to stay in one, Utah or elsewhere). Nonetheless, he dutifully packed his swimming trunks and off he went.

He called home about 6:00 p.m. Thursday night, bored to tears already.

"What about your pool party?" I gleefully asked. "After all, you ARE in a 5-star hotel."

Turns out that there was a swimming pool. Unfortunately, it happened to be under snow and ice at the moment. It really does sound like the rooms were nice though, with a big screen TV and a sleep-number bed (something I would love to have).

He'll get the royal treatment again the night before he leaves for basic training. The recruiter explained to him that any time the government puts you up in such a nice place, you can guarantee that life's about to get pretty miserable!

Milestones...

2010-01-29T22:35:00.011-07:00

Today Evan had his "swearing-in" ceremony to join the National Guard. He's only a junior in high school this year, so he's doing what is called a "split plan" where he'll go to basic training this summer for 10 1/2 weeks and then for his advanced training the summer after he graduates. I know that this will be a good thing for him in many different ways, both now and in the future. I truly am excited for him as he starts this new season in his life.

However, I still am feeling... I'm not sure what, exactly.

Proud, to be certain. Our family may be imperfect in many ways, but we've always had a deep love and appreciation for our country. My dad served in Vietnam. Tom has served active duty in the Army, and in the Reserves, and for the Guard. Josh, of course, has followed in his footsteps, serving first in the Guard, and now active duty on a Special Forces team in the Army (an accomplishment that is still unbelievable to me, knowing what he had to go through), just returning 2 days ago from a tour in Iraq. Evan goes into this with eyes wide-open to what he could and probably will face. To join, in spite of that, I think shows a lot of character.

Old, too. I know, I know, I'm really not that old in the grand scheme of things, but it literally seems like just yesterday he was a baby. I cannot seem to get my head around the fact that he is less than 2 years away from graduating, much less that he is taking these giant leaps toward becoming a man. Of course, he is still a teenager, so there are many days that it seems like I'll never get him there, but today, watching him take the oath and hearing him talk about the future, has made me realize how close we really are to that reality. My baby boy is growing up and will soon be gone. And Braden's following closely on his tail...

Scared and nervous. Especially because of my dad's, and Tom's, and Josh's experiences, I also go into this with my eyes wide open. These last months while Josh was away were very hard, not knowing what he was doing, if he was safe, how he was feeling, physically and mentally. We know that it will be all-too-soon and Josh will be off again. Thinking of having both of them potentially in harms way, maybe at the same time, seems almost unbearable. I honestly don't know how I feel about either of the wars we're currently in, and it doesn't take a genius to look around and see that there will never be a shortage when and if these are ever resolved. It reminds me of a Bellamy Brothers song, a remake of their hit "Old Hippie," but this version is called "Saved." In it, the following line has always stuck with me:

"I've been confused by the issues,

from Vietnam to Desert Storm,

But I pray every night for

the guys and gals in uniform..."

That would describe me perfectly. I know it's always easy to think, "it could never happen to my son," but it DOES happen to somebody's son or to somebody's daughter; lots of them, in fact. I truly believe in God's providence, but the thought of it still is hard. I can only imagine how I would actually handle it if it were to happen to us.

Anyway, those are the overwhelming emotions racing around inside me at the moment. More than anything I'm proud that we have managed to raise such conscientious sons and that they are willing to step forward for their country. I'm excited for Evan as he faces the future and pushes forward, making his own way and experiencing things he likely never would have without this. And I'm proud of the family members who set the example before that paved the way for him now. As Evan put it today as we were driving home, "Dad always made it seem like an honor to serve, and it is..."

And here we think that our kids aren't listening.

P.S. I promise to be more light-hearted soon... Seems like the last few weeks have been pretty heavy. :)

A Gift from my Grandpa

2010-01-24T21:30:00.012-07:00

Tomorrow marks the 16th anniversary of when my Grandpa passed away. You would think that after so many years it would get a little easier, but he is never completely out of my thoughts, and when I think of him, my eyes still well up with tears from missing him. I think that I can safely say that he, out of all the people I've known in my life, had the greatest impact on who I am today.

My grandparents were both blind; my grandma from birth, and my grandpa completely lost his sight from glaucoma when he was 13 years old, although it had been going for years. To say that they were amazing people is an understatement. My grandpa was a piano tuner, with grandma working as his secretary, "booking" all of his jobs for him, keeping track of all their customers with an enormous card-file system done in braille. I can still hear her voice on the phone in the evenings, working away while grandpa cooked us dinner in the kitchen (I still miss his macaroni and cheese he made from scratch). "This is Mary Collins, the piano tuner's wife..."

When I got my driver's license at age 14 (the state of Idaho had to be nuts to give licenses that early!), my grandpa officially put me on the payroll to drive him to tuning jobs on Saturdays. Being such a young, inexperienced driver, he has no idea how often he was close to death, and his being blind was a blessing to both of us - him so he couldn't see what almost hit us (as I drifted into the oncoming traffic because I was too busy watching my speedometer. I certainly didn't want to be caught speeding!), and me, because he couldn't appropriately react to the same.

Those Saturdays were wonderful not only because I got to earn some much-needed spending money, but because I got to spend hours and hours of one-on-one time with grandpa. He could talk knowledgeably about everything from how ancient Romans built their roads to giving me tips on how to drive in the snow. We'd talk about books, boys, cooking, you name it. More than anything, he listened to me and constantly encouraged me to be better at whatever it was I was doing. He taught me to stop and enjoy the little things, letting me drive miles and miles out of the way on a trip we once took to Boise so that I could see a historic site in the middle of nowhere, a giant rock where early pioneers had carved their names. He also taught me to not be afraid to sing out (something I love, but which I really am not very good at) because I shouldn't let other people take away my joy. When I went through a phase of reading horror stories, he gently talked to me about the concept of "garbage in - garbage out."

He was also the original (and best) GPS system. Even though he was blind, he could give step-by-step directions on how to drive to any given address in what seemed like the entire state of Idaho; southern Idaho at the very least. "Turn east on St. Clair (or whatever that direction was) and then..." Right on track, we'd pull up to the exact address that we were looking for. Unfortunately, I never did get the hang of figuring out east/west/north/south in southern Idaho, because there were no landmarks to guide me. I'd always ask, "Which way is that- left or right?" Then he'd proceed to give me a lesson on the position of the sun in the sky, which side it was shining on your face, etc. etc. I never did figure that out, but I'd give anything to listen to him tell it to me again.

Last week, I received a note from an old high school friend on Facebook (well, not OLD, because we aren't really that old, are we?!) asking me "wasn't your grandpa a piano tuner?" It turns out that she inherited the family piano that her parent's had gotten when she was little. Being out of tune, she did a little digging to see when it had last been tuned. Inside was the following business card, with a March 1982 date. The tuner? My grandpa...

I can't help but feel that this was a special gift from Grandpa, still giving me encouragement when I need it, just another of many gifts he's given me throughout my life. The best gift of all though was just having him in my life. He was patience, kindness, and love personified. There was none better...

(A special thanks to Krista for letting me use her beautiful photography! I wish I had half her talent. To see more on her blog, click here.)

Mostly just rambling...

2010-01-14T21:45:00.013-07:00

On January 3rd, our church gathered donated supplies such as children's clothes, diapers, formula, bottles, vitamins, etc. to send off with Mandi, a super-sweet friend who was making a 10-day humanitarian mission to Haiti, leaving the following Sunday, January 10th.

Of course by now you'd have to be living in a cave to not know the rest of the story...

In previous natural disasters such as Hurricane Katrina and the tsunami in Indonesia, I was deeply saddened by the loss of life and imagining the trials people had to go through, but I was distanced somewhat from the problem. Somehow, though, it's much worse when you actually know someone who is there, dealing with the realities.

As soon as I heard about the earthquake, I immediately got scared because I knew she was somewhere near Port-au-Prince. It wasn't until the next day that another friend from church was able to track down family who had luckily heard from her. The orphanage she and her friend are in has damage (they are having to sleep outside), but they and all the babies made it out safely with only minor injuries - Mandi has either a broken or severely sprained ankle and some cuts from broken glass. They have been kept very busy providing medical care to people in their area. Several peoples in the building right next to theirs were not so lucky and died.

Several years ago my aunt Lois had traveled to Haiti to cover the building of a medical clinic set up by a group of doctors and nurses in Salt Lake. I remember when she returned, looking at the photos and hearing her stories, and just being incredibly touched. That is how I'm feeling again. Never before have I felt so helpless and wishing there was something I could do (beyond monetary donations to a legitimate source, which I have done) to provide help. I've been praying non-stop for Mandi and her friend Carol, and for their families, but it just doesn't seem like enough.

Even though there's nothing physical I can do to help, I find that I'm becoming extremely irritated with people who aren't focused on this tragedy. Watching the news last night and tonight, hearing the "battle" going on with Conan O'Brian and NBC, all I could think was "WHO REALLY CARES?" Same thing for Oprah and her "upcoming interviews with Adam Lambert!" probably one of the most useless people I can think of. These are our heroes? They are nothing compared to the doctors, nurses, and caregivers who are struggling to give help to those who are desperately in need of it.

There's much more on my heart, but I guess I should quit where I am. I hope that everyone will just continue to pray for ALL the people in Haiti.

Here are some links to recent articles you might find interesting

Here's an article from KSL about Mandi and Carol:
http://www.ksl.com/public/index.php?nid=481&sid=9334202

Here are links to recent articles that Lois wrote for the Deseret News:
http://www.deseretnews.com/article/705358533/Utah-based-charity-in-Haiti-reduced-to-rubble.html

http://www.deseretnews.com/article/705358367/I-pray-for-Haiti-for-those-who-help.html

Here are links to the archived articles from when Lois travelled there in 2000 which really highlight the struggles Haitians faced when life was "normal." I can only imagine how they'll continue on now...

August 13, 2000:

Bringing hope to Haiti
http://www.deseretnews.com/article/1,5143,190006923,00.html

Island visit opens eyes and hearts
http://www.deseretnews.com/article/1,5143,190006760,00.html

August 14, 2000:

Hard times a constant of Haitian history
http://www.deseretnews.com/article/1,5143,190007561,00.html

August 15, 2000:

Mending bodies, building a legacy
http://www.deseretnews.com/article/1,5143,195006749,00.html

Finally, a great response about the flap created by Pat Robertson who earns the award for most misguided and mispoken "Christian" out there.

http://daveburchett.com/archive/2010/01/14/8047.aspx?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+daveburchett%2Fbadchristian+%28%22Confessions+of+a+Bad+Christian%22%29

What do you think this means?

2010-01-05T21:59:00.003-07:00

My co-worker and I have worked closely together in the same office for almost 4 years now. We spend 8 hours together every day, 5 days a week, and I can't remember a time when we've not ever gotten along. She even got me hooked on scrapbooking, and we go to a scrapbooking class together once a month. I safely count her among my friends.

Yesterday I got to work, the first day that we were both there in the last week. When I walked in the office, the first thing she tells me is: "I had the worst dream about you last night!" Seems that her clothes dryer has been on the blink, so she dreamed that she brought her wet laundry into the office and had it hanging up everywhere to dry. Being the unreasonable person I am, I got angry with her and threw a fit about it.

Okay... don't know how I figured into that one, but doing household chores at work probably isn't the best idea! Unless you agree to do a little of my overdue ironing for me... ;-D

---

Early this morning I went out to wake the boys up to get ready for school. I woke Evan first, being that he's camped out on the couch for awhile. He sits straight up and says, "I had the worst dream about you last night!" Apparently in this one, I was the proud owner of a Corvette (Evan's favorite vehicle EV-AH). Because I am such an evil mom, I purposely drove the Corvette into a ditch full of water every day, just to tick him off. Each day he and Tom would have to use a tow truck and drag me out... He just couldn't believe that I would do that.

Now I know that he and I don't always see eye to eye, and I didn't give in and buy him the puppy he wanted for Christmas, but do I really seem that mean and vindictive?

---

Finally, I gave Tom his customary wake-up hug before heading out the door for work. Barely even opening his eyes he tells me "I'm mad at you!" During the night he dreamed that we went to the county fair together (which should have been his first clue that it was a dream - he'll NEVER go to things like that with me!). While there, he discovered that he had won a brand new John Deere riding lawn mower. Excited, he found me and tried to get me to go back with him to pick up his prize, but I wouldn't believe him. By the time I finally consented to go with him, somebody had stolen it. If only I'd have believed him...

---

Sheesh! And here I thought I was a nice, loving person. Guess not... :-)

Not off to a good start...

2010-01-04T21:24:00.005-07:00

So 2010 hasn't really come in with a "Bang," so much as a "POP!" - of a waterbed, that is...

Was it only two days ago that I waxed poetic here about improving my outlook on life? New beginnings and all that for 2010? Hmmm... apparently I forgot that I have teenagers - a 17-year-old in particular. I won't make that mistake again.

Yesterday after church I was just getting ready to settle in for some much-needed relaxation, when Braden nonchalantly walked in the room to inform me that "Evan needs help with his waterbed. He was moving the mattress and now there's water going everywhere."

"Surely he's joking," I thought to myself, but he was a little too calm, usually a dead give-away that something big's going down. If he'd been frantic and hyper I would have known he was just trying to mess with my mind.

Sighing, I got up and trudged downstairs.

Here's the deal: Evan decided that he wanted to repaint his room, yet again. Since he now has his own job and his own money, he decided he didn't need to check with us to see if that'd be okay. To be fair, I've usually felt like "it's his room and he has to live with it, so whatever."

Several months ago he decided that he "HAD" to have a waterbed. Tom and I put up a good fight, giving all the reasons why he shouldn't have one. But he did his homework, finding articles showing that even if a waterbed "sprung a leak," it wouldn't flood like you would think due to pressure, linings, yadda yadda yadda... I honestly don't remember what all, but it sounded good enough that we finally relented. He really did need a new bed, so when he found a good used waterbed for $50 in the paper, we got it for him.

Since then he has emptied it and moved it at least 3 times, because he likes to rearrange. A. Lot. Because the poor, used thing has been moved so many times, and because it was probably so old and abused to begin with, this last move so that he could paint his walls was one time too many and the frame fell apart, but not before the now-exposed screws ripped not just one but several gaping holes.

By the time I got downstairs, the carpet was considerably "squishy," but Evan's girlfriend, a good sport who had offered to help him paint, was holding the worst part up. Of course we don't have a shop-vac, so Evan and I rushed into Hyrum to buy one ($55 - already more than the original cost of the stupid bed). An hour or so and probably fifty 5-gallon bucket trips of water up the stairs and outside later, the mattress was empty enough that Evan and Braden decided it would be light enough to carry upstairs and outside.

As you may have guessed, they were wrong. About halfway up the stairs, one end (not surprisingly the end with the biggest hole) was dropped, sending another cascade of water all over Braden, the stairs, and the carpet at the bottom.

To say that Evan was stressed out and pissed off at this point would be an understatement. As was I... I believe I said something about "ungrateful, #($)&..." They carried it back down and emptied 10 more bucketfuls. Eventually we got it emptied and Evan got the rest of it out. And now he sleeps on the couch.

But he did get the room painted. His colors of choice, which we didn't see until late last night when he was done? Black, black, black. Black walls (all four), and a black ceiling, with a yellow and white "Army" logo he did himself. Ai-yi-yi...

Rest in pieces, old friend...

Welcome 2010!

2010-01-02T11:18:00.004-07:00

I'm sure I'm not the only one out there who's happy to see 2009 go bye-bye in the rearview mirror. As my Aunt Lo said in a recent facebook posting, "Don't let the door hit you in the *butt* on your way out!" Truer words were never spoken...

Due to the economy, it seems like EVERYBODY I know, even those blessed to still have jobs, has been stressed out, myself included. Throw in a few teenage boys at the home-castle, a son off in Iraq, and a tween-age girl, not to mention a husband (wonderful though he may be!) and you can understand why I'm practically certifiable at this point. The thing is, I really shouldn't be so stressed and, frankly, the fact that I am also stresses and irritates me a little. The last few months I have been feeling down, something I don't normally do for more than a day or two at a time before I get myself under control.

In looking back over the last year, I know I have actually been blessed beyond measure. Tom and I both still have our jobs, our health is mostly good, the kids are growing up and doing all the things kids do as they speed toward adulthood (which I'm also finding difficult!), our dogs love us unconditionally, and I still find time for reading and scrapbooking! Additionally, a long-time thorn in the flesh that I've been praying about for the last decade was finally taken care of, so I know that God is with us as always, whatever the new year brings.

Anyway, in the spirit of new beginnings, I am putting down my official New Year's resolutions, something I normally haven't done. I figure by adding it here, it will be harder to ignore, and at least a few people will help keep me accountable.

1) As is typical for most people, I want to get into shape. I've had a never-ending sinus infection for the last 3 months, so whatever shape I had managed to get in last summer is LONG gone. I have never felt like such a slug before in my life. I feel like I am finally on the tail-end of that, so now it's time to get off my butt! Anyone want to run some 5k's with me? :)

2) Going hand-in-hand with getting into better shape, exercise-wise, I need to do better with my low-salt diet. My meniere's has really been pretty kind to me the last year, not attacking me with a full-blown assault even once. Because of this, I've been playing pretty loose with the low-salt thing, even though it makes me feel perpetually off-center. Time to get back in control!

3) I'm going to blog more. I love looking back over all the entries since I started this blog, but am sad to see that I have only averaged 1-2 posts the last couple of months. Even though it seems like each day blends in with the next, I know there have been many things I've missed and now forgotten. I started this blog to help my poor, pre-Alzheimer's memory in remembering all the little things, and in looking back it really has helped serve it's purpose. This year I vow to do better.

4) I'm going to "Facebook" less. Or at least I'm going to quit wasting so much time on the mindless games that have been my escape from life and more time on actually connecting with friends. That means that this summer I will do better in my actual garden and ignore my virtual one. Except for Yoville, at least until I have enough money to buy the house I've been saving for... ;-D.

5) Reading more probably isn't an option for me, much as I would love it to be! However, this year I vow to read more of the classics, more history, and more non-fiction - things that will help better me as a person. Tom spoiled me for Christmas this year and got me one of the new e-Book readers. Since I'm such a miser at heart, I've been scouring the internet for free downloadable books and have discovered quite the treasure trove of these. Now I have no excuse!

6) Going hand-in-hand with this, I vow to study my Bible more. Our church is starting a campaign this month to read the New Testament in the next 40 days, which is a good start.

7) I will work towards becoming debt-free. Tom and I had started taking Dave Ramsey's "Financial Peace University" class, but about halfway through was when Savannah and I came down with the flu, then sinus infections 1, 2, and 3, then Christmas, then.... You get the idea. You can't "graduate" if you miss more than 2 classes, so it just became easier not to go. However, with the holidays behind us, it's time to buckle back down and finish listening to all the lessons on CD. It's a very motivating course, so I highly encourage anyone who has the chance to listen to it.

8) Be a better mom/wife/worker. I think I especially need to focus on being less irritated with my kids and enjoy the journey, regardless of how challenging they may be.

9) Start now on next year's Christmas cards! Because of my total apathy about life these last few months, I didn't get cards sent out at all this year (so don't feel left out if you never received one - nobody else did either!).

Whew... it's quite the list, but hopefully I'll make at least a little progress. I'm reminded of a poem I read back in high school (lo, those many years ago!):

It Couldn't Be Done
By: Edgar A. Guest

Somebody said that it couldn't be done,
But he with a chuckle replied
That "maybe it couldn't" but he would be one
Who wouldn't say so 'til he'd tried.

So he buckled right in with the trace of a grin
On his face. If he worried, he hid it.
He started to sing as he tackled the thing
That couldn't be done and he did it.

Somebody scoffed, "Oh you'll never do that,"
"At least no one ever has done it;"
But he took off his coat and he took off his hat,
And the first thing we knew he'd begun it.

With a lift of his chin and a bit of a grin,
Without any doubting or quiddit,
He started to sing as he tackled the thing
That couldn't be done and he did it.

There are thousands to tell you it cannot be done,
There are thousands to prophesy failure;
There are thousands to point out to you one by one
The dangers that wait to assail you.

But just buckle in with a bit of a grin,
Just take off your coat and go to it;
Just start to sing as you tackle the thing,
That "cannot be done" and go do it.

Happy New Year's Everyone!

We (Heart) Orthodontists

2009-12-13T20:58:00.005-07:00

I had perfectly straight and healthy teeth growing up, not getting my first cavity until just after my senior year of high school. I assumed (and we all know what happens when we assume something!) that my kids would follow in my footsteps that way. Unfortunately, none of the three have.

Evan and Braden have both had braces on for the past two-and-a-half years. Braden has been told that he will get his top braces off at his next visit in a week, and hopefully only 6 more weeks before the bottom come off as well. Evan has at least one or two more visits, and then his should be off also.

Savannah, although only 10, already knows that braces are in her near future. Earlier today she came to me to let me know that she's got her mouth all figured out.

Intrigued, I asked, "Really?"

"Yes," she replied. "My top teeth hate each other," showing me the wide, nearly identical gaps between all of her top teeth. They certainly do look like they're trying to avoid one another.

"And the bottom ones love each other," she continued, pointing to the bottom row where about 6 in a row fight for the same inch of space on her jawline. "Look, it's a group hug!"

Sigh... At least she has a good sense of humor about it. Maybe she can become a comedian to help offset the cost of yet another 2-3 years at the orthodontist.

Two Words

2009-12-12T20:14:00.000-07:00

"WINTER . SUCKS ."

That is all...

Meanwhile, back at the ranch...

2009-12-06T00:27:00.006-07:00

Here lately, I have been flooded with nostalgia for the time when my kids were little. And when they were little, I couldn't wait for them to be bigger: big enough to get their own breakfast, big enough to tie their own shoes, big enough to do their homework without help, on and on... I'm sure I'm not alone as a mom having those wishes. When you're right there in the thick of it, it seems like they will NEVER grow up.

Now, however, reality has smacked me upside the head. Evan's 17 and only has 1 1/2 years more of school, and Braden 2. Evan has his driver's license and his first real job. Braden is eligible for his learner's permit now. And both boys are talking about joining the military, which scares me to death, even though Josh is already in (which also worries me to death). Savannah is in 5th grade, which around here means that she is in her last year of elementary school. She's starting to go through the first of many changes. Some days, she even has the start of that 'tween attitude, which I'm pretty sure I am NOT ready for. :)

Yesterday, the boys splurged and went to Salt Lake for a Utah Jazz basketball game. Savannah and I decided it was only fair to do something too, so we went to dinner at a new Chinese restaurant in Hyrum (which was very good, by the way!) and then to a Christmas play put on by the Pickleville Playhouse, which was hysterical. We haven't had a good "mommy-daughter" date for a while, so we both really enjoyed the evening. I had recently read on another blog about a book for 8-13 year old girls entitled "The Care and Keeping of You." It's a very informative, illustrated book that teaches girls pretty much everything they may need to know about going through puberty. Savannah acted horrified and embarassed that I would get her such a thing, but on the car ride home last night she read it by the light of her cell phone, read it at home until she fell asleep with it, and then resumed reading it first thing this morning until she had completed it. Methinks the lady dost protest too much! :)

I've been feeling badly that I don't ever get to spend any quality time with the boys anymore. Tonight, Evan had his girlfriend over and needed to run her home at the end of the evening. It had been snowing here all day, so I offered to drive them since he hasn't really had the joy of driving in the snow much. My worried-mama mind conjured up all sorts of images of him sliding off into the canal that lines the long winding road, or having deer jump in front of him and smashing into a telephone pole, although Tom made it be known that he thought I was being a helicopter parent - hovering a little too close. I think Evan was a little relieved, so we jumped in the Blazer he's been driving, and off we went, with me playing chauffeur.

He wanted to drive on the way back, and I figured it would be good for him (though bad for me - I'm a nervous passenger on the nicest of days!). We switched places and headed back home. We had just gotten a little ways down the afore-mentioned long winding road with the wicked canal drop-off when the Blazer sputtered and died. His phone was dead, but luckily mine was not (at least not yet!). Turns out that when this particular vehicle says there's 1/4 of a tank, it lies. We called Tom's cell, which of course he didn't answer. Finally Braden answered his, got Tom out of bed, and they came to rescue us. In the meantime, Evan and I sat frozen on the side of the road - and Dang was it cold! We began making bets about which cars would stop to offer us help and which wouldn't... It's nice to know that we live in a place where people do still do that kind of thing. We were particularly tickled by a car that slowed down like it was going to pull up next to the driver's side window, but right as Evan went to open the door to tell them we had help on the way, they sped off. Guess they didn't like the looks of him! We had a pretty good laugh at that one.

Anyway, I guess I got the "quality time" with Evan that I'd been hoping for. And we're lucky we broke down when we did because my cell phone battery went completely dead too, right before the cavalry showed up with the gas can. :)

Why I love sick kids...

2009-11-12T23:40:00.004-07:00

Last Saturday, after having two friends spend Friday night, Savannah was viciously attacked by the flu virus. Literally, one minute she was fine and the next she was all whiny and grumpy and sleepy-looking. I figured the girls had just had too much fun too late into the night, so I ran friend #2 home as #1 had already been picked up. Come the middle of the night she developed a cough, so I went in to check on her and she was BURNING up with a fever.

Sunday it was still so high, and she was so sick, I decided to run her to the instacare where she was immediately diagnosed with everyone's favorite flu. The one that I had her signed up to be vaccinated against if the CDC could ever get it together enough to get enough vaccines out there. Anyway, I digress... The doctor prescribed her some tamiflu, so we were off on our merry way. Now most people don't have nausea and vomiting with swine flu, but because she's my daughter, she did. Good times! Luckily that part only lasted the one night.

So I've been home taking care of her all week, which really hasn't been the most horrible way to spend the week, until yesterday, when I came down with the now-familiar symptoms :(

Since I have no energy to do anything but think, I've been thinking how much nicer it is to deal with kids when they are sick than when they are, oh - let's say 17-and 15-year old boys. Sick kids are warm and cuddly, perfect for snuggling up to on snowy days like today. 15 and 17 year old boys are not, even when they ARE sick.

Sick kids are quiet and polite, and argue with you over nothing. Teenagers are the exact opposite (especially that arguing over nothing thing!). Sick kids are grateful for all you do for them, even if it's just covering their feet with a blanket or giving them a drink of water. Sick kids don't want anything other than chicken noodle soup for any given meal. Teenagers want anything BUT chicken noodle soup, and after you cook some gourmet dinner, they will declare it gross because it has either onions or tomatoes in it. Sick kids understand how you're feeling and the fact that any noise higher than a whisper can make your head pound. Teenagers do not know any volume less than 500-decibels.

Savannah is recovering to the point now that she's helping to take care of me, and we can snuggle together on the couch and watch mindless hours of daytime tv (which, by the way, generally sucks) as our little inner furnaces blast away. It's not quite the way I foresaw spending a week of my life, but it could be worse.

And you thought YOU had a bad day...

2009-10-24T19:35:00.004-06:00

Oct. 24, 2009

Last week I was going to do another "poor, pitiful me" post about how I've been sick (just a sinus infection as it turns out, not the dreaded swine flu), about how tired I am, how busy work's been, how much I really HATE shopping at Walmart, and the ordeal of dealing with their pharmacy, waahhh, waahhh, waahhh... I started to write it all up Tuesday night, but fortunately for all of you, I couldn't muster the energy to even sit down at the computer.

Then Wednesday afternoon, my hubby called me at work, which he NEVER does during the day. My guard immediately came up, because I knew whatever it was, it couldn't be good.

Him: "Hi."
Me: "Hi...? What's going on?"
Him (very upset): "I just burned a car up."
Me: "What???!!!"

So, long story short, he was out test-driving a car he was working on, when all of a sudden he heard a small "whooshing" sound and saw a little smoke from under the hood. He pulled over to investigate and went to open the hood. As soon as he pulled the latch under the hood, he heard a gigantic "WHOOSH" and jumped back as flames shot out.

He has a nasty habit of not taking his cell phone with him, because when he's working on cars it just gets in the way, so he had no way to call anyone for help. It was on a fairly busy road, but nobody would stop to help for the longest time. Finally a policeman stopped, but he didn't have an extinguisher with him but at least put in a call for the fire department. In the meantime, a passing motorist who had a small extinguisher stopped, but by that time it was too out-0f-control, and so didn't do anything other than empty his tank.

Poor Tom had to call the person whose car he was working on (who's also a friend) to let him know what had happened. Because they're friends, they tend to give each other a lot of "crap," as guys often do. So Tom's telling him what happened, and the friend thinks he's joking. As he gives more and more details, his friend finally says "This isn't funny..."

Anyway, the car is a total loss, and my poor husband had the mother of bad days. On the other hand, at least it won't be making that funny noise any more.

For more pictures of the actual fire, see the following fire department blog: http://bcfdhotspot.blogspot.com/2009/10/car-fire-hwy-89.html

Oh, to be like my mom... :)

2009-10-10T23:07:00.004-06:00

October 10, 2009

Braden has been on a kick here lately wherein he tries to push my buttons by "acting" like a sexist pig. If I didn't know what a good-hearted kid he really is, it would probably be enough to make me run him over with my car.

A typical conversation with him goes a little something like this:

ME: Braden, I need you to...

BRADEN: Don't talk to me, WOMAN.

ME: Braden! Hush up and...

BRADEN: Are you still talking?!

ME: Grrr....

Or he'll ask me if I want to hear a funny joke.

BRADEN: Why'd the woman cross the road?

ME: Why? (Even though I should know better than to encourage him)

BRADEN: What's she doing out of the kitchen?!

He has at least a dozen of those.

Anyway, earlier today, we were going through the typical routine, and I told him that I was going to thump on him if he didn't knock it off.

He responded that I couldn't do it, even with his broken leg.

So I pulled out the big guns, invoking my mother's name:

ME: Would you say that to Grandma Kathy?

BRADEN (in a totally serious manner): Mom, I'm a smart-aleck; not stupid!!

At least he's learned where to draw the line :)

Before I Forget...

2009-09-18T21:46:00.002-06:00

The school year is rapidly zipping along and, as was inevitable, I'm not nearly as organized as I was hoping to be.

One thing I have been able to do, however, is get myself up earlier so that I am not in such a mad dash to get to work on time. This year I have also been getting Savannah up earlier so that she can get herself ready in time to catch the school bus, something she rarely did last year as Tom usually gave her a ride on his way to work. While this was something she loved, it was not always convenient for him, so we made the decision that this year she'd be back on the bus. Because she's getting up so much earlier, she has time to kill before she heads out of the house, so she usually spends her time playing WebKinz or Facebook on the computer.

A couple of weeks ago, Tom relayed a conversation the two of them shared.

He had done his usual stagger out of bed to get ready for work. As he was heading off to the shower, he noticed Savannah playing some little game on the computer. As soon as she saw him she got a very serious look on her face and said:

"It would be a GREAT help to me if you could find my other shoe..."

Well, hello Princess, but don't you think you should shut down the games and find your own *#$& shoe?!!!

I see the teenage years looming, and it's not a pretty sight!

Needless to say, he declined to help and she ended up wearing her too-tight pair from last year. And me? I found them not 5-feet away when I got home from work.

:)

What we do for fun on Friday nights... :(

2009-09-12T09:41:00.014-06:00

Sept. 12, 2009

Last Friday night, I sent the boys and a friend off to their high school football game. Evan is playing mostly for the JV this year, but he also gets to dress down and hold a spot on the sidelines for varsity. Braden and their friend Vince took a football with them so that they could throw the ball around, because heaven knows you don't actually go to the games to WATCH, you go to see and be seen by all the others not watching. (I am so glad I'm no longer a teenager, because I really don't get this. I didn't then, and I'm no closer to getting it now!)

Anyway, being Labor Day weekend and all, our family had plans to leave Saturday morning for the last camping trip of the season, so Tom, Savannah, and I stayed home to pack up and get everything ready. Around 8:00 p.m., Braden called and asked if I would run into town to give them money so they could eat (because I AM an endless money pit in their minds!). Being the good mommy that I am, I told him no, that they could eat when they got home.

In the meantime, I ate my dinner and was just heading back out to help with the trailer when my brain registered the fact that there was a sheriff's vehicle in the driveway. I'm a little slow on the uptake, so I sat and stared puzzling at it for a few seconds trying to imagine how one of the kids could have gotten in trouble when I'd just talked to them 30 minutes prior! About that time, the little neurons inside my head reconnected, and I noticed that Tom and the deputy were shouldering an obviously-injured Braden up the steps to the house.

We got him inside, I took one look at his ankle, and we carried him back outside to my car for the 25 minute ride to the hospital emergency room - a very long trip for him as he tried to breathe through the pain. Turns out that he had been tackled a good one while he had the ball, and broke the lower tibia in his left leg (the weight-bearing bone). We have always taught our kids that if they are going to do something, they should do it right, so Braden has taken this to heart even with injuries: not only was the leg broken, but it broke right in the growth plate. Fantastic... :(

As we waited for them to call in an orthopedic specialist, the ER doctor asked Bray if he was still interested in growing. Braden, ever the comedian, informed him "I've been thinking of a future career as a pirate..." They knocked him out, reset it, put him in a splint, and we were on our way, drugs in hand.

Poor kid never did get to eat because by the time we got out of there (12:30), he was too tired and in pain to deal with it. The next day, I mentioned that if I had just gone and brought them the money, this probably wouldn't have happened... Braden's response: "It ALL comes back on you!" There goes my mother-of-the-year award, yet again!

Anyway, he got his permanent cast on Thursday and is getting to be quite the pro at getting around on crutches or, when he's tired of that, he just scoots around on his butt! Tom reminded him the other night that "mom is not your personal slave," as I went to get him a drink of water. Really?! I thought I was the personal slave of them ALL. And here's a thought: if he obviously can't get something for himself, why doesn't someone else step forward (*cough*cough*anyone!) and get it for him... Grrr!

But I digress. There was no point in all of us missing the camping trip, so Tom and Savannah and 1 dog went off to have fun while I stayed home and played nurse-maid to Braden and fun-sucker to Evan, who used it as an excuse to stay home and be within cell phone range of his girlfriend.

Anyhoo, here are some pictures... It's going to be a long 8 weeks.

I'm pretty sure it's not supposed to have that funny lump on the front...

Waiting to go to x-ray. And waiting... and waiting... and...

This picture horrifies me! This was on Thursday, right before getting the permanent cast on. The doctor assures me that this is normal. It just shows me what a trooper Braden has been. I don't think I would handle it near as well.

The Writing on the Wall

2009-08-23T20:57:00.000-06:00

There was a very joyous occasion at our house recently, one that I know many parents share in: School is BACK IN SESSION!!! Can I hear a big Whoop-Whoop?!!!!

I have vowed that this year is going to be different than all the previous years - namely, that THIS year will be the one where things run smoothly. You know: kids' chores will be done by the time I get home from work so that I can get dinner going sometime before midnight, homework will be done sooner rather than the now-familiar panic attack that usually hits around 11:15 P.M., kids will be IN bed by 9:30 (okay, 10:00 at the latest), and evening school events will not send the entire schedule into Titanic mode for two weeks after the event.

"Organization is key!" I said in my self-induced, euphorically organized dream-state. In preparation for this totally-awesome year that I'm so sure that we're going to have, I bought one of those large dry-erase boards that stick to your refrigerator. I bought the four-pack of colored markers with dreams of color-coding for each child, a neatly gridded day-by-day calendar smartly charted out for each one with chores, homework, and events right at hand. I'll never double-book or **cough cough ** forget a child for hours on end (see here) again.

Anyway, I bought the beautiful white board and colored markers, attached it to the fridge, drew my first week's worth of boxes for each child and went to bed, happy in the knowledge that I was WELL on my way to the goal. School was a few weeks away at that point, so I'd have plenty of time to iron out the wrinkles and get my "system" all worked out.

The next day, after coming home from work, I glanced lovingly at the board on my way in from work. Only now there were no longer clearly-defined boxes, but boxes with smudged lines. "Someone" had taken their finger and systematically erased small portions of each and every box, so now it looked more like a line of ants marching around each day.

"Oh well," I thought to myself. "I can deal with that."

The next day I came home to find new changes. This time the lines were back in totality, except now there were little men drawn on, some climbing staircases into the box above, poking their heads into their siblings box to see what was going on, some shooting bullets at their chore listing. I really wish I'd gotten a picture before it was erased, because it really was quite the work of art, in an ultra-modern, ADHDish sort-of way.

Day 3 brought a total erasing of all my carefully drawn quadrants and was replaced with a full-color rendition of the Utah Jazz basketball logo. While beautifully done, it really wasn't quite what I had in mind when I purchased the board.

Last Thursday school finally started, so I was excited to put it to actual use. I drew a big star around the date and gleefuly proclaimed"1st day of school!" That evening, I came home to see something now written on Friday in small letters: "Braden drops out of school."

Tonight, as I waited for dinner to cook, I readied myself to redo the calendar for the coming week. Only someone had beaten me to it, and there was already something scheduled for Monday. I knew this calendar would catch on! However, upon closer look, I found the following message:

"Braden unwillingly gets forced back into school. Ha-Ha."

It may not be entirely fulfilling the purpose to which I had hoped, but it has been quite the entertainment, and at least he's getting some creative writing practice in!

P.S. Savannah didn't finish the kitchen until after 7:00 p.m. tonight, and dinner wasn't served until 9:45 p.m. Insert deep sigh... The year's still young, right?

Aug. 23, 2009

Just for fun: 25 Random Things About Me

2009-08-14T21:27:00.000-06:00

I was recently playing on Facebook, trying to figure out how to post a new "note" in response to one that I'd been tagged on, when I ran across something I'd responded to last year. Since I'm really, really trying to post more on this here blog, I decided I'd run this one, just for fun.

25 random things about me...Share Rules: Once you've been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 25 random things, facts, habits, or goals about you. At the end, choose 25 people to be tagged. You have to tag the person who tagged you. If I tagged you, it's because I want to know more about you.

Drum roll, please:

1. All of my favorite restaurants end up going out of business. Not quite sure why.

2. I have worked at Utah State for almost 10 years, the longest I have ever worked anywhere.

3. My favorite job was working as an administrative assistant at a mental health clinic. Interesting doesn’t even begin to describe it! Some days I feel like I still work there ;-)

4. I’m a frustrated wanna-be English teacher: I earn extra money by editing theses and dissertations in my “spare” time. I love my red pen! And yes, I know I’m a nerd.
5. My first “real” job was recovering piano keys, a skill I was taught by my grandpa, a piano tuner. Each job took countless hours and covered my hands with blisters, but boy did they look pretty when they were done! Sadly, I probably only earned the equivalent of $1.50 an hour for my labors.

6. I got married one year after high school and later divorced after 4 years and 2 boys.

7. My husband and I got engaged on our first “real” date and both of us later admitted that we asked ourselves “what did I just say?” immediately after. We have been married 14 years this July and still going strong, although we do have our ups and downs like any couple.

8. We have 5 kids between us: His 2 boys, my 2 boys, and FINALLY a girl together. She’s now 10 and totally has him wrapped around her finger.

9. I love road trips, either alone or with my husband. No kids allowed at this point! I lovingly refer to them as the “fun-suckers,” at least when we’re in the car. They call me "Momster." We're a loving family, but a bigger bunch of smart-alecks you've never seen!

10. I’m a sucker for historical sites and drive my hubby nuts because I want to stop at every one. Over the years he’s finally gotten to like them too, but he still won’t stop for all of them.

11. Another favorite thing to do is attend estate auctions. A few years ago I got a collectable music box for $25 that I later found for sale on the internet for $750. AND I haven't sold it because I really love it.

12. In the last 3 years I have been close to death twice.

13. I am the world’s most patient mother. I must be, because my mom would NEVER have put up with the “stuff” my 16-year old dishes out!

14. I collect rocks, Christmas villages, and salt and pepper shakers.

15. I am a sophomore in college (almost a junior!) but I only take 1-2 classes a year, so I will probably be 50 by the time I finally graduate.

16. I figure time is passing by whether I take the classes or not, so I might as well get ahead while I can.

17. I took hunter’s education last year for the first time in my life, AND I did better on the target shooting than either of my boys’ when they took it! But I won’t go hunting because I know I’d cry if I ever shot and killed anything.

18. My aunt and I went on a vacation to Mexico City when I was 16 where I got my tennis shoes polished, drank Pepsi out of a sandwich baggie, and was almost bitten by a donkey near the Aztec pyramids. My mom cried as she watched us board the plane.

19. After 5 years of having very short hair, I am trying to grow it out long again. Each day I have to give myself a pep talk to not make an appointment, THAT DAY, to get it cut short again so that I won’t continue to look like I’m homeless.

20. I must have a boring life, because I’m finding it extremely hard to come up with 25 facts.

21. I went snow-skiing for the very first time this last year, even though I’ve lived in Utah for the last 22 years. And I'd sworn I would never try it.

22. I love to read, anything from non-fiction, adventure, romance, history, etc. Pretty much anything but horror.

23. I believe that the power of forgiveness is both one of my best and worst traits.

24. The Oregon Coast is my favorite place on earth, followed closely by Glacier National Park.

25. After only ever having white walls in any of my houses, this last year I’ve gone crazy and painted *gasp* color in almost every room. And I have plans for the others…

Pretty darned exciting, aren't I? And it's a Friday night and this is what I am doing for fun. Watch out world - you've got a wild one on hand!

August 14, 2009

Enterprising Young Thing...

2009-08-13T18:43:00.000-06:00

This past week, Savannah got bored and decided to do the typical lemonade stand to make some money. The only problem was that we didn't have any lemonade or kool-aid, so she decided to sell cups of tap-water.

Braden, home supervising her at the time, gave her his blunt opinion of the idea.

"Savannah, that's a stupid idea. Everybody has their own tap-water. You might as well sell rocks!"

So that's what she did: an hour later she called to let me know she'd earned about a dollar selling gravel she'd scooped out of the driveway.

This girl will go far!

I shoulda gotten the insurance...

2009-08-04T18:42:00.000-06:00

Several months ago we got rid of the landline house phone and switched to a cell phone for the kids' home use (one way of controlling phone calls for a certain older child who is, more often than not, grounded!). When Braden's birthday rolled around last month, the ONLY thing he wanted, more than life itself, please, please, pretty PLEASE, was his own cell phone. For lack of any better gift ideas, I finally relented and got him his own. This meant that now we all had a cell phone and Savannah got to keep the uncool house phone for herself.

Two weeks ago at work my cell phone rang. I could see it was Savannah's phone, and I said "hello...hello...hello..." but there was never any answer. Then, finally, a click. Then she called on my work line.

Me: "hello... hello...hello?"

Click again.

I tried calling her, she tried calling me, and then FINALLY, when I'd about given up all hope, she emailed me on my work email.

"Mom, I can hear you but nobody can hear me." Luckily we had just gotten Tom a new phone, so we had his old one as a spare. I walked her through the SIM-card transfer over email and pretty soon she called me. Voila!

So what was wrong with her phone, you may be asking yourself?!

She had dropped it in the toilet. Let me just tell you, in case you were wondering, that never does any electronic gadget any good...

Fast forward two weeks to today. See me, sitting behind my desk at work. Hear the cell phone ring. Hear Savannah gaily telling me about her day.

Savannah: "Hi mom! Guess where I am?!!"

Me: "Uh... home?"

Savannah: "I'm calling from in the swimming pool!" as if that were the coolest thing in the world.

So we then had to revisit toilet-gate and the fact that maybe, just maybe, taking the phone IN the pool probably wasn't the greatest idea...

If anyone has any old T-mobile phones, please save them for me. I have the feeling I'll be needing them...

August 4, 2009

Things I miss...

2009-07-27T09:45:00.000-06:00

A hairbrush, gray.

Another hairbrush, pink.

Kitchen knives: 20 or more, the latest set less than 3 months old.

Socks.

Shoes.

Headphones.

Cell phones.

Scissors.

Nail clippers.

The door to a kitty-carrier.

These are just a few of the things that go "missing" around our house, absconded by my wonderful children (also known as the famous "not me's") never to be seen again, but of all of them, it is that last one that I miss the most.

We technically live in "the country," although in the last 5 years or so many houses have sprung up around us. Anyway, even though we're now in a neighborhood, the area is still decidedly rural. The first year we moved in, our new neighbors across the street had kittens. "Why, YES! We'd love a kitten!" It'll help keep down on the mice.

Back then we were continuously strapped financially, and so we didn't really have the money to get said kitten spayed. She rapidly grew up and, before you knew it, had a litter of kittens of her own. We found homes for all the kittens but one, a sweet-hearted little thing we named Google because Savannah, only 3 at the time, said she had "googly" eyes. Now mom and daughter were on a race to see who could be the most prolific producers of kittens. I almost always managed to find homes for most, but it seems there is always at least one that ends up being left behind.

All this to say that, at present, we have FOUR mama kitties who seem always ready to pop out another litter. And while I love kittens, enough is enough! It has been my goal since February to get them all fixed so that we can put an end to this kitty-cascade, but have you seen how much it costs to get them spayed?!!! The cheapest I could find here in our area is $85 per female cat, which I think is highway robbery.

Every-other month the "Big Fix" mobile clinic comes to Logan for one day to offer dog and cat spaying/neutering for much-reduced rates: $25 compared to the $85. Every-other month since February I have locked a kitty in a crate the night before, starved it, listened to it yowl loudly and mournfully all the way into town, stood in line with hundreds of other people and their pets, only to be turned away because they can only take the first 40 or 50 pets. The first time I was only two people behind the cutoff. Arrggghh! I then drive my yowling cat back home and let the poor, bewildered thing out of the crate. I'm sure that they all think I've lost my marbles. I don't understand WHY they can't just let people make appointments, as I'm told they do in other areas.

I've finally given up on the mobile clinic, so last week I called and made an appointment at the local vet clinic for today. I'll do a cat a month. We got home fairly late, so I went to grab the kitty carrier, only to discover the missing door. I still cannot figure out WHAT possible use there could be for a cat carrier door, without the cat carrier, but it is gone. Of course no one KNOWS where it went, or why, and, "Oh geez, here mom goes again..." I finally kicked Stitch, our goofy black lab, out of his crate that he sleeps in. Door? Check. But, what's this? Even though there's a door attached, it doesn't actually latch.

Great.

I finally got Stitch out and the cat in, held the door shut by bracing it with garden implements, and went to bed. I'll deal with it in the morning. So, here we are: the day of reckoning! I still couldn't find the cat carrier door, and I couldn't get the large dog crate with meowing kitty into the Tahoe without help because I had to hold that door shut. I finally got to the vet and went inside to ask if they had a smaller carrier that I could bring her in with. They handed me a tiny little crate that looked like it might hold at least half of her, and off I went. I opened the back doors of the Tahoe, scooted the large dog crate around, held the new crate (with a door!) in front, and proceeded to TRY to stuff her in. Man can she put up a fight!

It ended with her making a leap up and over the smaller carrier, over my shoulder, and off into the parking lot. By this time, the two vet assistants had come out to see what the obvious hold-up was. The three of us circled the clinic from different angles more than a few times. I'd finally catch her, stand up and start for the doorway when she'd dig her claws into whatever appendage happened to be closest, and then launch herself back into the bushes again. One of the assistants finally grabbed her and held her in a great hold that I'm thinking I may actually try on the kids when they start lipping off.

Anyway, one cat down and three to go! I'm exhausted...

July 27, 2009