AD's ADVENTURES

The Start of a Campaign

2012-02-10T23:54:00.000-08:00

We're totally serious.

McKelle and I have wanted to submit an application for "The Amazing Race" for years. But this is the first time we actually have a window in our lives where it might be feasible. We get that it would be a total long shot, but hey. It's worth a try! We would have such a blast!

So now we are gathering footage for our submission.

This is just the beginning!

For You I'd Wait 'Til Kingdom Come

2012-02-09T18:41:00.000-08:00

There is a bit of controversy at our house over who became a Coldplay fan first. McKelle thinks it was her. I'm convinced it was me. It's a bit of a running joke around here. But no matter who fell in love with the band first, we are all besotted. We know every lyric. We love every song.

We are the kinds of fans who have our computer screens ready and waiting for the moment the clock turns to the exact minute their concert tickets are available.

And yet we still have trouble getting tickets! (But that is a post for another day...)

So a few weeks ago when McKelle was able to snag ONE ticket to a benefit concert Coldplay was putting on in LA, she jumped on it. It was a ridiculous price on Ticketmaster, but it was for the pit! I tried and tried the minute tickets went online to get one, in any section, but no luck. A few hours later McKelle called me all excited that she got one for me! It wasn't for the pit, but at least we could go together.

Last night was the concert. I had a terrible cold, my ears were completely clogged and it was pretty much the last thing I wanted to do to stand in a place with loud, driving music. But McKelle doped me up on DayQuil and it worked like a charm. My ears cleared, my nose stopped dripping, my pounding headache disappeared and I was rearing to go!

While we waited in line, we made Mylo Xyloto t-shirts and lots of new friends.

The concert was in a delightfully intimate venue, Club Nokia, which holds just under 2,000 people. We got there early enough in the day that when they let us into the theater, McKelle was perfectly centered on the front row. I was back in a different section, but McKelle was bound and determined to get me down into the pit with her. You had to have a special ticket and a special wristband to get down there; even so somehow I knew that she'd find a way.

And SHE DID! Before I knew it I was standing just behind her, less than three feet from the stage. It was magical!

There was no opening act, only Ryan Seacrest there to get the party started.

Of course Coldplay hit the ground running, opening with "Hurts Like Heaven." Before the end of that first song, Chris Martin was literally drenched with sweat. He puts his whole heart and soul and BODY into his performances, and he sweats like a madman. (By the end of the concert, I was pretty sopped myself!)

The second song they did was "Yellow." Chris Martin kept looking up as he was singing, so I turned to see what he was looking at. There on the front row of the balcony was Gwyneth Paltrow, her mother Blythe Danner, Cameron Diaz, and a few other friends. The theater was small enough that we could see them plain as day. Gwyneth sang along to every word. She and Chris were flirting and laughing back and forth. It was really fun to see.

Coldplay sang for over an hour and a half, playing most of the songs from their new Mylo Xyloto album, and some of their classics like "Clocks," "Fix You" and "The Scientist."

Thanks to the DayQuil, I was bouncing and
singing like a teenager through the whole show

The lights and special effects were spectacular! Boatloads of confetti dropped during "In My Place," and the concert closed with giant balloons dropping during the final number, "Everything's Not Lost." It was a perfect show!

Epic shot by McKelle

My favorite..."Us Against the World"

Blowing a kiss to Gwyneth at the end of the night

Thoughts on Reading

2012-02-08T23:38:00.000-08:00

If you know me well at all, you know how much I adore reading. At any given time I have 3 or 4 books that I'm working my way through. It's been that way for as long as I can remember. When I was a young girl, my mom used to hate it when I'd get a new book I loved because it meant I was pretty much useless until the book was finished. Some things never change!

Because I have a passion for reading, I absolutely loved this blog post that my sister Sabra sent to me today. It comes from a guest writer at The Pioneer Woman blog, and you can read the entire post here. But to make it easier for you, I've pasted the bulk of the post below.

For the Love of the Written Word

By Big Mama.

"I think by now it’s no secret that I’m a big book nerd. There is just something about reading all those words that have been perfectly knit together that doesn’t compare to anything else.

Except for maybe a good night’s sleep in one of those heavenly beds at a Westin.

But that’s not what this post is about.

As Nora Ephron, one of my personal writing heroes, says, 'Reading is everything. Reading makes me feel like I’ve accomplished something, learned something, become a better person. Reading makes me smarter. Reading gives me something to talk about later on. Reading is the unbelievably healthy way my attention deficity disorder medicates itself. Reading is escape, and the opposite of escape; it’s a way to make contact with reality after a day of making things up, and it’s a way of making contact with someone else’s imagination after a day that’s all too real. Reading is grist. Reading is bliss.'

And the people said AMEN.

One of my favorite things about reading a good book is to find a few sentences that stick with me long after I’ve finished it. Sometimes it’s because it makes me laugh or cry. Or both. And sometimes it’s because it makes me think about something in a new way and causes a little piece of my heart to ache.

Mostly, it just makes me appreciate words and how much they’ve meant to me from my earliest memory."

Then the writer Big Mama shares a few of her favorite lines from books she has read. I loved that! Thanks for sharing, Sabe!

Here are a few of my favorite lines from books I love:

"Wholehearted living is about engaging in our lives from a place of worthiness. It means cultivating the courage, compassion, and connection to wake up in the morning and think, No matter what gets done and how much is left undone, I am enough. It's going to bed thinking, Yes, I am imperfect and vulnerable and sometimes afraid, but that doesn't change the truth that I am also brave and worthy of love and belonging." -from "The Gifts of Imperfection" by Brene Brown

"Once you know what it takes to live a better story, you don't have a choice. Not living a better story would be like deciding to die, deciding to walk around numb until you die." -from "A Million Miles in a Thousand Years" by Donald Miller

"Happiness really is a state of mind we choose for ourselves, a way of being that we cultivate from one moment to the next, rather than the result of realizing our ambitions or acquiring whatever it is we think we most desire." -from "The Gift of an Ordinary Day" by Katrina Kenison

"I declare, it's like some other part of me made up some rules about happiness and I just went along with them without thinking. My heart is lightened so much that I am amazed at how sad I felt for so long." -from "These is My Words" by Nancy Turner

"Are there any two words in all of the English language more closely twinned than courage and cowardice? I do not think there is a man alive who will not yearn to possess the former and dread to be accused of the latter. One is held to be the apogee of man's character, the other its nadir. And yet, to me, the two sit side by side on the circle of life, removed from each other by the merest degree of arc." -from "March" by Geraldine Brooks

Lion? Blue Devil? Ibis? Cougar?

2012-02-07T21:28:00.000-08:00

Recently, our mailbox has been flooded with college recruitment letters.

Because of his exceptional score on the PSAT, Clay is now on the radar of many top tier universities.

Columbia, Duke, Ohio State, Texas Christian, and many others have sent materials trying to persuade him to take a look at their schools.

"There's something special about being a Buckeye," says one brochure.

"There's something special about being a Horned Toad," says another.

Clay finds it all a bit amusing, even though he's also a tiny bit flattered by the recognition.

I'm so pleased for him. He really shines when it comes to academics. This year he's taking 6 AP classes, something he himself wanted to do even though we tried to convince him otherwise. He's self-motivated, always pushing himself to excel. This past week with his midterms, he had the top test score in many of his classes.

It's not always easy to be the "smart" kid. Our society seems to place much more value on athletic ability than scholarship. Clay himself has often expressed his wish that he could have been an outstanding athlete.

So I guess that's one of the reasons I feel so pleased that he is getting recognition for his abilities. Unlike some star athletes who can never top their high school glory days, I believe Clay's best days are ahead.

And I can hardly wait to see where his journey takes him!

The Tao of Pooh

2012-02-06T22:28:00.000-08:00

I just finished a thought-provoking and delightful little book called "The Tao of Pooh."

Basically, the author uses the antics and wisdom of our favorite Pooh Bear as a way to explain some of the basic principles of Tao philosophy.

Like this one:

"When you wake up in the morning, Pooh," said Piglet at last, "what's the first thing you say to yourself?"
"What's for breakfast? said Pooh. "What do you say, Piglet?"
"I say, I wonder what's going to happen exciting today?" said Piglet.
Pooh nodded thoughtfully.
"It's the same thing," he said.
________

Taoism focuses principally on awareness and acceptance of the flow of life, or The Way. Rather than fighting against the current of the river, learn to accept What Is and flow with it. Working in harmony with life's circumstances helps us live with peace and contentment. It's in the simplicity of life where we find the answers. Enjoyment of the process, rather than the Great Reward, is the secret.

Here is another of my favorite little vignettes from the book:

"Say, Pooh, why aren't you busy?" I said.
"Because it's a nice day," said Pooh.
"Yes, but---"
"Why ruin it?" he said.
"But you could be doing something Important," I said.
"I am," said Pooh.
"Oh?Doing what?"
"Listening," he said.
"Listening to what?"
"To the birds. And that squirrel over there."
"What are they saying?" I asked.
"That it's a nice day," said Pooh.
"But you know that already," I said.
"Yes, but it's always good to hear that somebody else thinks so, too," he replied.
"Well, you could be spending your time getting Educated...How else will you know what's going on in the world?" I said.
"By going outside," said Pooh.
__________

One of my mottos for 2012 is "Make the Most of a Beautiful Day." So perhaps that's why I loved that little bit of Winnie-the-Pooh's wisdom.

I adored the book. It's one I'll go back to again and again. It was filled with ideas that are helpful in parenting and making peace with what life brings our way.

Parting Brings Such Sweet Sorrow

2012-02-05T21:22:00.000-08:00

The party is officially over.

All of us girls from out of town are leaving Memphis tomorrow, back to our lives and families. It's always hard to say good-bye.

We've had such a terrific time working on our quilt together.

Taping down the layers as we pin the quilt top and the back together

So many laughs. Truly, we were in stitches as we stitched! There were a few tears, too, but that is nothing new in a family of five sisters. If we never had tears, we might not appreciate the laughs nearly as much.

I am so blessed to be part of this family. My sisters mean so much to me, and I cherish my time with them more as each year passes. I admire each one of them so.

"A sister is a little piece of childhood that can never be lost." (Marian Garretty)

Here is the finished quilt top. Each of our names is sewn in chronological order. We've almost quilted all of the squares now, and tomorrow before we leave we're hoping to get the binding on it's way. It will be a visual reminder of our lovely weekend together, and even more than that, it's a representation of the bonds of love and affection that we share.

"Here's Looking at You, Kid"

2012-02-04T22:56:00.000-08:00

Tonight we threw a big 1940s bash for my mom's birthday party.

We had a delicious beef tenderloin dinner and then a family program celebrating mom's life.

Lee began with an adorable Casablanca skit where he acted out the Humphrey Bogart part, Mom played Ingrid Bergman's role, and my nephew Nicholas was Sam the musician, playing "As Time Goes By"on the piano. We were all in stitches!

Then Lee gave a moving and heartfelt toast to Mom, a Lord Byron poem called "She Walks in Beauty" which truly captured his tender feelings for her.

Sheriece's older two did a darling musical number with Pearson accompanying Addison on the piano as she sang "Grandmother." Pearson kept a brisk tempo but Addison did her best to stay with him!

Next up was Noah (Lexie's son) who shared a list of words to describe mom. So adorable.

Nikki led us in a short trivia game about mom's life. Some of us knew mom was born at home and all the states she'd lived in and that both her father and first husband died at age 56. None of us knew how long she'd studied the piano!

Then Sheriece, Jerad, and Shane shared some interesting facts about the day mom was born, along with world events in 1942, her birth year. World War II was in full swing at that point. Singapore fell to Japan in 1942 and a US postage stamp was just 3 cents.

Jessica, dressed in a sweet vintage dress from the 50s, shared a vignette mom had written about life as a teenager in the 1950s, detailing what she did for social activities, her favorite music and clothing.

Carla shared memories from her childhood of mom, including her earliest memory of coming out of heart surgery at age 3 and having mom by her side. She then read the lyrics of "My Wish" which always reminds her of mom.

Sabra wowed us all with an acappella "Amazing Grace." She can still belt it out and it was beautiful!

Lexie read a letter she had written to mom, sharing how grateful she is for mom as her mother, mentor, and friend.

In spite of some technical difficulties, we were at last able to watch videos of Maddy, McKelle, Ruth, Sara, Lincoln, Bethanie, and Jake's family who all sent clips to wish mom a happy birthday.

Then we had a stroke of serendipity that fixed the iPad/Apple TV glitch and we watched a slideshow I had put together with pictures from throughout mom's life. So many treasured photos that stirred up such happy memories! She's truly a gorgeous woman and always has been.

Maegan shared a sweet tribute to Grandma about how she is so grateful for Grandma's presence in her life.

My tribute focused on mom's legacy and the things she will always be remembered for: her beauty, kindness, compassion, cooking, musical ability, generosity, her willing nature, her ability to withhold judgment, her sense of adventure and her unconditional love.

Mom then took a moment to express her heartfelt feelings about our family and the fun birthday weekend we've had so far.

Carla and I sang the duet "For Good" from the musical, Wicked.

And lastly the sisters + Maegan sang "Wind Beneath My Wings" which was always one of our dad's favorites and sums up our feelings about our parents.

Tonight will be a memory our family will never forget!

Mom's Descendants Quilt

2012-02-03T23:08:00.000-08:00

As we were making plans for the birthday celebrations this weekend, my mom asked that we plan a project to work on while all of us girls were together.

"How about a quilt," she suggested.

And even though none of us are quilters per se, all of us have some sewing and handwork skills. So combining our different talents, we figured we might just be able to make a quilt this weekend. After batting around some ideas, we settled on a descendants quilt for mom, piecing together squares with the embroidered names of all of mom's 23 descendants.

Nikki, who is a bit of a fabric aficionado, ordered some gorgeous fat quarters by Anna Maria Horner.

Sheriece found a darling embroidery sample on Pinterest.

Carla brought all of her cross stitching floss.

Now we are busy at work doing the planning and cutting and hand stitching. It's so fun to see the pieces coming together
and to see each others' work.

Turns out Maegan is a master embroiderer!

Jessica, too!

Best of all is time together working on a common goal.

Can't wait to see the finished project!

70 Birthday Postcards for Martha

2012-02-02T21:52:00.000-08:00

Today is my mom's 70th birthday!

One of the surprises we planned for her was a birthday postcard project. My fabulously talented niece Sheriece designed and printed 70 postcards which were sent pre-addressed and stamped to 70 of my mom's family and friends. We asked that each person share a favorite memory of Martha and then send it to her.

It's been a HUGE hit! The postcards have been poring in over the last few days. Each one has been a treasure! We've all gathered around to read them and laugh and cry over the memories shared. Of course everyone has written about how beautiful and kind my mother is.

As she read the new ones that arrived today, she said, "Wow. You never know what people truly think about you!" I thought that was so sweet and it made me laugh out loud.

One of the most cherished came from her older brother Lincoln. He had painstakingly penciled in lines so that his handwriting was perfectly neat. You must click on the picture and read what he wrote. Absolutely priceless and it made us all cry!

We'll put all of the postcards in a nice book for her so she can keep them always. They will bring her years of happiness.

How blessed I am to be her daughter! She is quite simply the most loving person I know.

Happy 70th, dearest Mother!

30 Day Challenge

2012-02-01T22:31:00.000-08:00

Have you discovered TED?

TED is a non-profit devoted to Ideas Worth Sharing. Originally it was a forum for sharing ideas about Technology, Entertainment and Design. Now TED hosts conferences each year about a range of topics. The speakers are dynamic, bright people from all walks of life. I have loved the TED talks I've watched and always learn new things from them.

Last month McKelle sent me this link to a super short TED talk devoted to the idea of trying new things for 30 days.

I love this idea because, as the speaker points out, 30 days will pass whether you try something new or not. But trying new things makes 30 days come alive.

So for the month of February I'm going to try something new-- I'm going to blog everyday for the entire month. I can't promise that my posts will be brilliant, but I can promise they'll be consistent. I'm hoping that this exercise will help me begin the habit of writing every day. My March challenge is going to be to write x number of pages on my writing projects that have been languishing for a while.

Check out TED and join me in the 30 day challenge. Don't worry that you didn't start at the beginning of the month. Just find something new you'd like to try and give it a whirl!!

Three is not My Lucky Number

2012-01-31T11:00:00.000-08:00

My mother-in-law always used to say that mishaps come in threes.

Two weeks ago Maddy called me in tears to say that she had scraped her car on a pole as she was parking her car. It was her first ever little incident, so I consoled her as best I could. We can get it fixed, no problem, I told her.

Maddy's little boo boo

Last week, Clay called me on his way home from early morning seminary to tell me that he had had a little incident in his car involving changing lanes at the last minute and not seeing another car in the other lane. Luckily neither car had much damage. Just minor a scratch and dent. He felt heartsick. I consoled him the best I could. We can get it fixed, no problem, I told him.

Then I remembered my mother-in-law's theory about things happening in threes. I told my kids we all better be super careful! Secretly I hoped that McKelle's having inexplicably lost a headlight in her car a few weeks back might be the third....

But alas. It was not.

Yesterday when Clay came home from school he parked behind my car which was in the garage. He never parks behind me, but the neighbors next door were having some yard work done and there were piles of mulch on the sidewalk. Clay wanted to keep his car away from it.

You can guess what happened.

Yes, when I went to pick up Jessica from school, I began backing out without even noticing Clay's car.
And even though my car has a rearview camera, and even though it beeps to alert me if I'm going to hit something...

I was nevertheless completely stunned when I felt a huge CRASH into something.

I didn't even want to look.

Clay came running out of the house, having heard the CRASH and knowing exactly what had happened.

So HE looked. It really wasn't that bad. No damage to my car at all, and just a baseball sized dent without any paint damage on the front end of his car. The shop that fixes his other little dent can easily pop this one out, too.

All in all the three mishaps could have been much worse. No one was hurt. No car was majorly damaged. They can all be fixed. No problem. At least that's what I keep saying to console myself!

But I'm just glad mishaps don't come in fours or fives.

On turning 45

2011-11-07T23:20:00.000-08:00

For a week now I've been trying on 45.

At times it's felt a bit constricting. Like squeezing myself into a size-too-small wet suit. At times it's felt rather discombobulating. Like I woke up to discover that I had been wearing baggy overalls to church. At other times it's felt comfortable. Like slipping into a well-worn pair of pajamas at the end of the day.

No matter. Tomorrow I'll be 45, whether I'm ready for it or not.

If ever there were a time to have a mid-life crisis, it would be about now. After all, if I'm fortunate enough to live to be 90, tomorrow my life will be mid-way over.

But if you have to think about whether or not you want to have a mid-life crisis, I'm pretty sure you're not really going to have one.

What would the crisis be about, anyway? That the skin on my neck isn't as firm as it once was; that my thighs are more dimply than I wish they were; that the veins in my hands are getting more and more pronounced? I don't want to run away to live with the Amish over any of that. (FYI, that's always been my go-to plan if I ever do run away.)

For some surprising reason I'm feeling a measure of contentment in my life right now. For someone as prone to wallow in regret as I am, that's saying a lot.

In this moment I can recognize the blessings of having a devoted husband who loves me; four remarkable children whose lives I'm finally comprehending are more of a legacy than any novel I could write will ever be; faith firmly fixed on Jesus Christ, and a host of family and friends who make my days interesting and joyful.

For now I'm okay with the disappointments I've experienced, the mistakes I've made, and that things aren't exactly as I once imagined they would be when I got here.

I'm SLOWLY coming to terms with the fact that I don't have a JD after my name, that I still can't make a perfect cookie, that my house will never be featured in a decorator's magazine, that paperwork piles up on my desk, and that my favorite jeans don't fit me at the moment.

But you know what? Going down the hill is always my favorite part of a mountain bike ride, so maybe there's a chance that the second half of my life will turn out to be my favorite, too.

Perhaps I'm ready to wear 45 after all.

And the mid-life crisis? It's gonna have to wait.

Summer afternoon, summer afternoon; to me those have always been the most beautiful words in the English language. (Henry James)

2011-06-22T09:34:00.000-07:00

Ever since the days when my children were in elementary school, I've always looked forward to the last day of school and the beginning of summer. No more morning rush to get the children off to school, no more last minute homework projects, no more packing lunches. What a relief! How I looked forward to the long summer days spent playing in the pool with my kids, exploring museums and zoos, daily outings to the park or beach. Summer afternoons with my young children were a blast.

Today is the last day of school for Clay, and Jessica finished already, but strangely I'm not feeling all that excited. Clay just got his drivers license, so this summer he'll be more independent than ever before. And as a new teenager, Jessica is definitely beyond the days of wanting to spend the summer hanging out with her mother at a zoo or a park. Maddy and McKelle are off in NYC having awesome adventures.

So what does a summer afternoon hold for a stay-at-home mom whose children have largely outgrown her?

I have every hope there will be future phases of my life I'm going to love. Everyone says being a grandmother is the best thing ever. I'm looking forward to that. But if I'm honest my favorite part of life--those days with four young children whose lives revolved around me and mine around theirs--is behind me. I do remember it was chaotic and draining and frustrating at times, but I always knew my role and knew I was needed. Back then, I thought that phase would last forever. But looking back it feels like it lasted about as long as a ride at an amusement park.

I hope I cherished every moment of it because I'd go back in a heartbeat.

I'll be okay. We've lots of things to look forward to this summer. In fact I don't think I'll be home for more than 4 days in the whole month of August. But this morning I feel a bit of longing for the days when my summer afternoons were filled with four little people who needed me.

Where's the Outrage?

2011-04-13T09:29:00.000-07:00

When I first learned that the creators of South Park were producing a new musical called "The Book of Mormon," I felt like someone had kicked me in the stomach. Literally.

It's not that we Mormons can't laugh at ourselves. As a devout member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I concede that from the outside looking in the story of God the Father and Jesus Christ appearing to a 14 year-old farm boy in upstate New York just 150 years ago seems slightly preposterous. That an angel led Joseph Smith to gold plates containing ancient writing which he then translated into "The Book of Mormon" sounds laughable. A bit like a virgin named Mary giving birth to a baby. Or a man named Moses parting the Red Sea. A man named Siddharta being born with the imprint of a thousand-spoke wheel on his feet. Or Mohammad receiving revelations from God in a cave. I guess we can laugh at ourselves because we are in good company with the rest of the world's religions.

It wasn't that Mormons would be ridiculed. The main reason I felt heartsick was because the men behind the Broadway show are renowned for their profane, vulgar, and obscene humor, the kind of raunchy "comedy" I cannot for the life of me find amusing. (For some reason I've been under the impression that the goal of society is to make cultural progress, to become increasingly refined and dignified, not the opposite.) Mostly I shuddered to think of things I hold sacred being dragged through the mud and stench of THEIR particular brand of ridicule.

So, admittedly, I was disappointed when rave reviews for the new musical started flowing. While every review I've read from the New York Times to the Wall Street Journal and many in between BRIEFLY mention that the show is obscene and profane, mainly the reviews describe the show as "heartwarming" and hilarious. I began to wonder if perhaps my worries were misguided and that the show wasn't as base as I thought it would be.

Then I read this review in "The New Yorker" and I caught a glimpse of just how low the show goes. (WARNING: if you click on that link, you will encounter some extremely vile language from the show.)

Apparently, one of the songs has the Ugandans repeatedly singing "F--- you God" in every obscenely- named orifice. Really? Is God himself not sacred anymore? I find this even more distressing than the thought of ridiculing my particular religion. I mean, deride Mormonism all you want, but please leave God out of the sacrilege. Where's the outrage among people of ANY faith who believe in God? Just last year a USA Today/Gallop Poll found that 92% of Americans believe in God. So why isn't anyone speaking out about dragging God into this kind of vulgarity?

The New Yorker piece also describes a scene in the play where an African man claims he is going to raype a baby to cure his AIDES (purposeful misspellings), a horrifyingly misguided practice that apparently really happens in Africa. On what level is it acceptable to turn something so vile into fodder for comedy? How is that even remotely funny? Where's the outrage among people who abhor child abyuse?

The Ugandans are depicted as bumbling idiots who hate God and don't know the difference between a typewriter and a cell phone. Really? I thought we have spent decades in this country trying to overcome ethnic stereotypes. Where's the outrage among people who despise racism?

I simply don't understand it. Apparently it's acceptable and even HILARIOUS to profane God, slander religion, make light of child abyuse, and foster racism as long as it's all dolled up and set to pretty, memorable melodies with rousing dance numbers.

Somehow it feels like the Emperor just got a new set of clothes.

The Sunset Principle

2011-04-04T15:29:00.000-07:00

One of the perks of living in Southern California is being able to bask in the beauty of some pretty breathtaking sunsets.

If I happen to be outside when the sun starts to drop, at the beach or just outside my front doors or even in my car, there are moments when I find myself spellbound and speechless.

In all my sunset reveries, one thing I've discovered is that a blue, cloudless sky does not make the best canvas for sunsets.

Sure the sun goes down in a burst of color, but without a few clouds in the sky for those colors to bounce off of, the color fades quickly and simply disappears.

However, when the sky is streaked with clouds, either long flat ones or big billowing puffs, as the sun begins to drop these clouds become drenched in fiery reds, sherbet oranges, and/or cotton candy pinks, sometimes so spectacular that I think if I saw a photo with those very colors, I'd think it was fake. And even after the sun has dropped below the horizon, the colors linger, the clouds stay alight like burning embers.

Life is like that. We think we want blue, cloudless skies, days with no struggle or strife, smooth sailing, no turbulence, no hassles. Yet it's the very clouds in our lives--the sorrows, the adversity, the challenges, the trials--that in the end will make our life experiences more remarkable, more spectacular. When we look back at our lives and recognize that we overcame, we endured, we triumphed--we will discover that it was the challenges, the clouds if you will, which made us beautiful, spellbinding, speech defying.

We wish we could spare our children the painful and difficult moments life throws at them. But if we carry a baby around to prevent her from falling down when she is learning to walk, she will never develop the strength to do it.

In a recent Stake Conference talk a woman said that her 27 year marriage has been strengthened because of--NOT IN SPITE OF--the challenges (including having a handicapped child) that they'd endured together. And it's true. All ease and no struggle makes for very weak relationship muscles.

It's the sunset principle. A few clouds along the way make all the difference.

One of my all-time favorite sunsets, in Ontario, Canada back in October 2005

What's Next? Optional Wind-shield Wipers?

2011-03-25T13:31:00.001-07:00

Yesterday, for the first time ever, I got a flat tire.

And of course it was in the dark. On the freeway. In the rain. And I was alone.

I'm not gonna lie. When I started to hear the "thunk-thunk, thunk-thunk," it was a little bit frightening. Mainly because it was dark. On the freeway. In the rain. And I was alone.

But I made it safely off the freeway and called my Roadside Assistance service. Thinking it was going to be a quick fix and I'd be on my way home, I was not too stressed.

But when the serviceman got there and between the two of us we could not figure out WHERE IN THE WORLD the spare was hiding, I started to get a bit concerned.

Last year I paid over $45,000 to purchase a fully-loaded Cadillac SRX. Virtually every upgrade possible from navigation to an entertainment center to upgraded tires and lights were options I chose to purchase.

So imagine my surprise when the serviceman, Jon (who came to help out) and I eventually discovered that the ONE part not included in my fully-loaded vehicle was a SPARE TIRE!

When I was looking to purchase the car, I met with three different salesmen at three different Cadillac dealerships to price out the car I wanted. Each salesman went through the available options and priced them for me. NOT ONE OF THE SALESMEN MENTIONED THE FACT THAT A SPARE TIRE WAS OPTIONAL. Not one of them offered me the opportunity to purchase one. I assumed that like steering wheels and windshield wipers a spare tire came standard on vehicles. Especially a vehicle at this price point. It never even crossed my mind that a spare tire was an "optional" purchase.

If I had been told at the time of purchase that a spare tire was optional, I would have been shocked and bothered, but clearly I would have opted to purchase one to prevent the very scenario I faced last night...in the dark, alone, in the rain, stranded.

What should have been a 30 minute detour to put on the spare tire turned into a 2 hour ordeal as we eventually had to have the car towed to the Cadillac dealership.

Today I called a KIA dealership and asked if their cars, priced from $12,000 - $30,000, come standard with spare tires.

Guess what?

They do.

Grrrr.

Adventures in CHICAGO!!

2011-02-25T20:15:00.000-08:00

For those of you who want the FULL STORY about how I got tickets to the Oprah book club taping and how it all turned out...here are all the DETAILS! Pop some popcorn, kick back and enjoy my (long-winded) story!

There's a Child for that

2011-02-07T20:27:00.000-08:00

Unless you've been living in a cave or in a deep coma you've heard Apple's ingenious application slogan--"there's an app for that." It's definitely gone viral, if that's even possible for a slogan.

Now I have my own take on it.

After talking with McKelle on the phone the other day, it came to me.

My children are like apps. Only better.

Need encouragement to carve out time to write daily? Or someone to share an inspiring idea? There's a child for that.

McKelle has texted me nearly every day this year to keep me accountable for my commitment to write daily, and she's always the first one I call when something/someone strikes me as brilliant. How I rely on her!

Need help sorting out why joining Weight Watchers sent me on a three-day eating binge? Or a shoulder to cry on after a lovers' spat? There's a child for that.

Maddy has wisdom in spades to share with me, not only about weight issues but also about marriage and family life. How I find comfort from her!

Need a good laugh? Or someone to discuss the wonders of the universe with? There's a child for that!

Clay can magically turn my tears into laughter, and there's not anyone I enjoy dissecting an idea with more. How I enjoy him!

Need someone to help out at a moment's notice with everything from fashion consultation to home organization and literally everything in between? There's a child for that!

Jessica runs circles around me and keeps me on track, a little ray of homegrown sunshine and sanity. How lost I'd be without her!

One thing I never fully understood when I was in the throes of diapers and naptimes and toddler temper tantrums was that I was raising the very people who would become my dearest friends, my most treasured companions. How I love them!

Pretty sure there's no app for that!

You're Invited

2011-01-23T06:36:00.000-08:00

Ninth grade was a milestone in my life.

So many memorable things happened that year.

Against all odds, my track team at North Layton Junior High School won the district championship. (We were written up in the local newspaper as "The Magnificent Seven" because there were just seven of us that had qualified for the district competition yet we managed to beat Central Jr. High's very large and historically unbeatable team.) Ronald Reagan was elected president. It was the year BYU quarterback Jim McMahon threw a hail mary pass at the end of the Holiday bowl, a "miracle" moment that saw my whole family including uncles, aunts and cousins who had gathered to watch the game jumping and cheering around our living room.

But the pivotal experience for me that year was seminary.

In the LDS church, teens in 9th - 12th grade are given an opportunity to take an hour-long seminary class each school day to study the scriptures, one testament each year.

That year it was the New Testament, and I was absolutely blown away by it. I found Christ's teachings and parables, his compassion and wisdom to be awe-inspiring, even revolutionary. I was astounded by the way he so clearly understood human foibles ("the mote in your brother's eye") and saw through hypocrisy ("inwardly ravenous wolves"), the way he gently ("but I say unto you love your enemies") and at times passionately ("he who is without sin cast the first stone") overturned the prevalent narrow-mindedness of his day, and the way he so simply laid out what our priorities should be ("love your neighbor"). That was the year I first truly desired to become a follower of Christ.

Over the thirty years since then, I've read and pondered the New Testament again and again. Each reading brings me new insights, 'a-ha' moments that change the way I view my life and relationships.

This week I was reading in Matthew 22, the parable of the king's son's wedding. A king readies a lavish wedding for his son--prepares an extravagant feast of oxen and fatlings--but the invited guests aren't interested in attending. Imagine people turning down an invitation to Prince William's upcoming wedding! Yet, in the parable, many "make light of" just such an invitation and turn back to their farms, their merchandise, their problem servants.

This parable struck me with such power this time around. Our Heavenly Father has a "wedding feast" happening right now, we've all been invited to celebrate his Son, to partake of all that he has offered us, yet so often we turn away from the invitation, some even make light of it. And for what? Farms and merchandise? The cares of the world? Apparently many of us would rather spend time enmeshed in our daily problems, as trivial and monotonous as they are, than spend time with the King of all Kings.

I, for one, don't want to miss the celebration!

At long last...something to blame on my mother!

2011-01-19T10:45:00.000-08:00

I've heard the stories.

Women sitting on couches in their therapists' offices, desperate to rise above all of the baggage of their childhoods. And generally, it all comes back to one source.

Their mothers.

I've never been able to relate. My mother was (and still is) an angel. Truly. When we were growing up, she read to us, sang to us, played with us, cooked for us, made clothes for us, sacrificed for us, tickled my back for hours and did just about everything a good mother should.

But today I made a self discovery that might send me to a therapist's couch afterall.

Just after I pulled the two piping hot fresh loaves of bread out of the oven that I'd made for the kids' lunches today, I couldn't resist my favorite slice--the heel.

I enjoyed every bite of it.

Then I enjoyed one more melt-in-my-mouth slice.

Then one more, although I did have the fortitude to make it thinner than the first two.

Afterward, trying to understand why I ate three slices of homemade bread when I wasn't even hungry, it dawned on me.

It's my mother's fault.

If only she had made homemade fresh bread every week of my childhood, I wouldn't love it the way I do. I'd probably be sick of it. At this very moment I'd likely be 10 pounds lighter!

I wonder what the therapist will say!?!

My little Christmas Elf

2011-01-01T21:10:00.000-08:00

Tell me what us mothers dread about Christmas more than all the schlepping and shopping? If you said wrapping all those gifts, you and I are kindred spirits indeed.

This year I was fortunate to have a little Christmas elf who did virtually ALL of the Christmas wrapping! (Even, sadly, a few presents of her own!) And it was all done well before Christmas Eve.

Not only did she do all of the wrapping, she did 90% of the Christmas decorating, too!

Thank you, little Elf. Christmas at our house just wouldn't have been the same without you!

Please come back again next year! I'll be sure to make it worth your while!!!!!!

Our own O Henry moment...of sorts

2010-12-25T21:06:00.000-08:00

Christmas day dawned bright and early at the Coleman home, and all of the children couldn't wait to run down the stairs to open their gifts.

Actually, truth be told, this year we began opening our gifts right after our traditional family devotional late in the evening on Christmas Eve. (You can do that when your kids reach a certain age, have given up the Santa charade, and would rather stay up late and sleep in on Christmas morning.)

As the gifts were being opened, I was looking forward to watching Jon open a certain surprise I had bought for him. A camera.

Jon was looking forward to watching me open a certain surprise from him. A camera.

Unwittingly, we had each purchased cameras for one another.

Here's the funny part. It turns out that Jon gave me the camera HE really wanted (the Canon Rebel T2), and I gave him the camera I really wanted (the Canon s95).

Maybe not exactly "The Gift of the Magi," but there is a certain amount of irony nevertheless!

The Christmas Card update that I didn't send...

2010-12-24T08:26:00.000-08:00

2010 Coleman tidings:

If you are a “friend” of ours on Facebook, you already know what’s up with the Colemans in 2010. (If you aren’t, you should be!) We worked, we traveled, we loved, we laughed, we argued, we learned, we served, and we found moments of joy along the way.

McKelle is slaving away as a junior in the top-rated BYU accounting program. She loved her work as an EFY counselor this past summer. She is over the moon with excitement to have been hired as a 2011 summer investment banking intern in NYC. Good thing she is used to long hours of hard work!

Maddy graduated from high school, became a brunette and turned 18. She’s possibly having too much fun as a BYU freshman, but she does manage to study hard, too. She loves her independence and is still writing songs that knock my socks off.

Clay continues to ace his classes and was the only sophomore selected for his school’s Mock Trial team. On his phone he has a daily countdown to his 16^th birthday…it’s a toss up whether he’s more excited to begin driving or to begin dating when the big day arrives in June.

Jessica has taken a foray into acting and had a blast shooting two separate national commercials this year. I finally convinced her to let me become her “co-learner” this fall (aka homeschool teacher), and we love studying 7^th grade science, history and math together.

Above all, Jon and I feel blessed that each of our children are “on track” with their individual aspirations and pursuits…And even though we all struggle at times to “keep our balance” between the many activities and demands on our time, 2010 was a memorable year for our family.

We hope it was for your family, too.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

Judge AD?

2010-11-16T14:14:00.000-08:00

Walking through the halls of the county courthouse on my way to jury selection this morning, I passed a wall filled with row after row of framed photos--past and present superior court judges, all stately in their black robes. That's when it hit me.

That could have been me.

Yes, way back when I was in high school and college I had aspirations to become a judge.

Of course that meant three additional years of law school, but I always thought that would be exciting and intellectually stimulating. And it also meant I'd need to work for several years as an attorney. Again, that seemed like something I'd love.

Then I married a wonderful man who had equally exciting aspirations. And when he was accepted into one of the top (in both prestige and price) graduate school programs in the country--Harvard Business School--in my mind I couldn't figure out how we would manage two hefty tuition bills. So I shelved my plans for a time, and got a job at one of the oldest and largest law firms in Boston, Ropes & Gray. (Sometime I'll have to write a post to share the interesting events surrounding my getting that job.) I worked as a paralegal for the Labor and Employment attorneys, which was all very interesting and challenging until, about a year into my job, I started feeling sick every morning and sneaking a short afternoon nap at my desk just to get through the day.

You guessed it. I was pregnant.

So then, when the attorneys I worked for would tell me I really should apply to law school, which they frequently did, I secretly knew that I'd be pursuing a new kind of 'Labor' and employment shortly. Law school took another back seat.

That was over 20 years ago.

Life has provided me with all sorts of interesting adventures since then, but law school wasn't one of them. I've had four remarkable children. We've lived in four foreign countries. I've traveled to 41 others. And honestly, I wouldn't trade all that I've experienced, all the days I took my kids to the park, all the stories I read to them, or the times I spent driving them to lessons and practices. Especially now that I realize how fast it all passes.

But sometimes, like today, I wonder what life would have been like if I'd stuck with my original plan. What would it have been like to be at a dinner party and have someone ask me what I do and reply, "Oh, I'm a judge."

Maybe it all would have been extremely fulfilling. Fascinating. Mind opening. Life-enrichening. Glamorous.

But maybe it all would have been terribly boring.

And boring my life has not been.

Even without law school.

More Parking Lot Adventures...

2010-11-14T23:40:00.000-08:00

...but this time, it wasn't me stepping into a tricky situation.

It was Jon.

While Jessica and I were in Memphis last week, Jon spent part of a lunch hour running an errand at Costco. As he was approaching the checkout line, an older woman cut in front of him with her cart. Jon looked at her and realized she didn't even notice he was there.

As he stood behind her, Jon had an usual feeling come over him, telling him that the woman was suffering from early dementia. He didn't know why he would think that, except there was something in the look on her face that reminded him of his mother.

The woman left the store ahead of Jon, who stopped to grab a snack at the food counter.

When Jon made his way out to the parking lot about 10 minutes later, he noticed the woman again. She appeared to be wandering around, lost, looking for her car.

Jon was not sure what to do. How could he approach her without embarrassing her or scaring her? He didn't know exactly what to say, but decided he should follow his impression.

So he walked up to the woman and asked, "Are you having trouble finding your car?"

She looked at Jon and blurted out that yes, she couldn't find it even though she had been searching. She let out a nervous laugh and said that something must be wrong with her if she couldn't find her car. Jon asked for a description of the car, and luckily she was able to give it to him.

A few minutes later Jon found the car an aisle or two away.

The woman thanked him profusely and said how grateful she was that kind people were always helping her out.

How many "kind people" helped my mother-in-law Barbara out when she was still on her own? We know there were the cable people that she called on an almost weekly basis to reset her TV. There were the dryer people she called in the wee hours of the morning when she couldn't get her dryer to work. A kind family allowed her to come into their home and use their phone when she got lost driving home from church one day. Another time a nice neighbor helped her realize the reason her car wouldn't go was that she was trying to drive with her foot on the brake. How many others stepped in to help her that we don't know about?

Perhaps Jon's opportunity to help the woman he met at Costco was the very best kind of karma. Certainly he felt there was some divine intervention at work.

In Jon's view, it was simply more evidence that God is aware of each of us and plays a role in our everyday lives.

"A soft answer turneth away wrath: but grievous words stir up anger."

2010-10-29T19:11:00.000-07:00

Imagine you are in a parking lot and from 150 yards away you can hear a man screaming at the top of his lungs at a woman. As you walk to your car, you gather that the 40-something year-old man is furious at the fifty-something year-old woman for parking too close to his car. As the screams continue, you have a choice:

A-Get in your car, mind your own business, and drive away,

or

B-Drive up closer and encourage the man to get control of himself.

Call me what you will-- a busy-body, a lunatic, a self-appointed civility patrolwoman-- but I chose B. Just days before I had listened to a radio program about a group that was promoting civility in our public discourse that really left an impression on me. How could I walk away from a situation where someone was being verbally abused?

Driving up closer with my window rolled down, I called out to the man, "Your mother would be ashamed to see you screaming at this woman like that."

The man was caught off-guard to be sure, but then began yelling at me, "She started it!"

I replied, "I don't care what she did, she does not deserve to be treated like that."

He started to show me what she had done.

I said, "As far as I can see she didn't run over a child. What we need is to treat each other with civility."

To my great surprise, the man stopped in his tracks and in a loud voice exclaimed, "You're right."

Then he apologized to the woman for screaming at her.

The woman was startled for a second but then SHE began yelling at him, "You are the rudest man I've ever met!"

So I turned to her and said, "Now you need to accept his apology with dignity and you two can solve this with civility."

She calmed down, and they began to talk.

As I drove away, I realized that my heart was pounding in my chest and I was trembling. I was surprised to notice that quite a crowd had gathered around. Clay was walking to my car while this scenario was playing out, and he thought I'd lost my mind.

I wish I could say that I've never flown off the handle the way that man did in the parking lot. Sadly, I've had a handful of temper tantrums myself in my day. Like the one in the SLC airport when the TSA people insisted I take my sleeping baby out of her car seat to go through security. I had traveled enough to know full well that many airports allowed a manual check of the car seat (pre 9/11). I also knew full well how much the baby needed her sleep before the long international flight ahead of us. I kindof lost it right then and there. No screaming but a lot of slamming things around and acting ugly.* More often my tantrums have been directed at a loved one rather than a stranger, which is possibly worse.

In any event, I'm glad I was able to help diffuse an ugly situation in the parking lot. I want to remember how it felt to hear the man screaming so that in the future I will be slower to raise my own voice.

Life would be a whole lot sweeter if we could all show more civility, don't you agree?

*The rest of the story: After I got to the airport gate, I calmed down and felt remorse for the meltdown. When Jon joined us after dropping off the rental car, I left the kids with him and walked back to security and apologized. The agents were very gracious. They said they'd experienced a lot of angry outbursts over the years, but no one had ever come back to apologize.

Funny

2010-10-22T17:37:00.000-07:00

When my children were little, I kept a journal for each of them in which I captured the funny things they said and did.

Once, for example, when McKelle was between three and four years old, I explained to her that when I was a child we didn't have VCR's to watch videos (remember those?). Instead on Sunday nights we would watch "The Wonderful World of Disney" on TV. McKelle sat for a moment, puzzling over that thought, and then she looked at me and asked, "Did you have beds?"

As you can imagine, these journals are treasures to me. When I read most of these funny stories, I can't actually remember them happening. So if I hadn't written them down, these funnies would be lost forever.

Well, my kids are not all that little anymore, but every once in a while they still make me howl with laughter.

Last week I took fiftene year-old Clay to the fabric store in what turned out to be his very first time there. He had to make a stuffed mole for his Chemistry class, so we went to pick out material together. As we were waiting at the cutting counter with a felt bolt in hand, I asked him again if the pattern on his teacher's website listed how much fabric we would need. He looked at the bolt and said, "Mom, you've got massive amounts of fabric there. The moles are not that big. I'm sure we have plenty!" Then I realized that he thought I was buying the whole bolt. Oh, my. I laughed and laughed.

"Mo-Luigi and Molio"

On a recent cold and rainy morning, Jessica came into my room dressed for her one class at school in an old sweatshirt of mine. She likes it, but I think it's big and old and outdated. I've told her before that she really shouldn't wear it to school.

So when I noticed she had the sweatshirt on, I said, "Jess, you cannot wear that thing to school!"

She asked, "Why not?"

"It's UGLY" I replied.

In exasperation, she ranted, "Oh, WOW. Now I can't wear ugly clothes to school?!!?"

I fell on the floor laughing.

Oh, kids. They make real life so stinkin' funny.

Private Announcement Part 2

2010-10-19T17:32:00.000-07:00

Dear Readers:

Good news! I've come up with a solution to my blogging conundrum that doesn't involve going private. I recognize that's a 380* reversal from my last post. But changing my mind is one of my talents. It's actually listed on my resume. Well, it would be if I had one.

So here's the deal. I noticed on my Statcounter account that there was a photo of Jess on my blog that was popping up under Google searches of "pretenes" (spelling changed purposely). I hadn't labeled her photo with that term, but somewhere in my post accompanying her photo I had used the word "pretene." So with almost mystical power, search engines were linking her photo and that term. And that led some Googlers to my blog.

After consulting with some brainiac computer gurus (you know who you are, Sheriece), I came up with an equally brainiac solution: if I don't include photos in my posts about my children, a random Google search will not turn up their photos. So instead of using photos in the body of my posts, I will post photos separately, with no words. And if I ever use a word in my posts that I don't want to be searchable, I will misspell the word to keep it under the radar. Like pretene. Or dodacious. (Not that I ever used the real word dodacious in any of my posts but you never know. I might just call one of my girls or one of my sisters "dodacious"--because they totally are--and I don't want it to cause a problem.) Get it? Oh, and I deleted the one particular photo of Jessica.

Problem solved! And I didn't have to hassle with setting up a separate blog and blah, blah, blah, which is much easier on me. Friends of my friends and family can also still occasionally see what's going on in my life without having to ask to join my readers. (And even the nice person from the Department of Homeland Security who wrote to say she was sorry she caused me any worry can continue reading my blog for fun if she wants to.)

TTFN, (think Tigger)

AD
PS The story about Myanmar? When we lived in Singapore, Jon and I took a short trip to that stunning country, formerly known as Burma. One afternoon as we were strolling through the streets of Yangon, we noticed the US Embassy in the distance. Without thinking twice about it, Jon took a photo so we could show it to the kids. We continued walking, when, to our great surprise, we were stopped by a burly US marine who came out of nowhere to escort us to the embassy. Here we had to explain why we had taken a photo of the embassy and turn over our memory card so the authorities could erase the photo. We were also asked to give them our passports so that they could make a photocopy for their files. Jon jokes that he has likely been officially blacklisted from holding public office as a result. The lesson? Never take a photo--even from a long distance--of a US Embassy while in a foreign country.

Private Announcement

2010-10-05T17:59:00.000-07:00

Once upon a blog I read about StatCounter, a website you can use to track the traffic on your blog or website.

I thought that sounded interesting, so I set up an account for this blog.

StatCounter showed me that in addition to my handful of regular readers, my blog was attracting visitors from all around the world. Fascinating, I thought.

As I got more skilled at using StatCounter, I discovered that I could actually see the referring URL link that brought each visitor to my blog. Usually it's a link from another blog or from Facebook. But sometimes visitors arrive after a Google search that turns up one of my posts for some reason or another.

I was surprised to discover that one of my most popular posts with the international readers was "What Does CNG mean to you?" Visitors from all over the Middle East in particular were finding my blog from that post. Even more surprising was the realization that if I Googled "what does cng mean," MY LITTLE POST was the very first thing that popped up in the search results. Go ahead and try it!

Cool.

But when I looked at StatCounter for the first time in several months today, I discovered that the CNG post isn't the only thing attracting unknown visitors these days. I discovered that a trend far more unsettling is also attracting hits, and I have a sick feeling that these are NOT the kind of visitors I want tracking me or my family. I won't go into the details here, but I promise to share the whole story when I publish my first private post.

Yes, private. I'm taking this little blog private.

I always hate it when blogs that I love reading go private, mainly because I'm too forgetful to remember to check blogs that don't pop up on my Google Reader, and, sadly, private blogs do not.

To combat that, I'll set up a separate blog that will trigger Reader to announce when I write new posts on my actual private blog. In the meantime, if you want to keep reading about my thoughts and adventures, as sporadic as they are, please send me your email address and a thumbprint and I'll add you to the list of authorized readers. My email is adriannecoleman at-sign gmail.com (Just kidding about the thumb print.)

And if by chance you are the person from the Department of Homeland Security who spent six minutes visiting my blog last month, I'm sure you've already figured out that, despite all the Middle Eastern visitors I seem to attract, I'm a perfectly harmless forty-something-year-old full-time mother who has only one teeny little incident on her international record. I'll be sure to share the story on my private blog of what went wrong that time in Myanmar, but sadly, you won't get to read it.

Ha!

(Alas, the joke is likely on me. I'm guessing that DOHS can access private blogs?Or can they? Would we all feel more or less secure if they can?)

Sons and Mothers

2010-10-02T08:34:00.000-07:00

When I was growing up in a family of five girls, I always said that when I was a mother, I wanted to have a family of all boys. I had names picked out and everything. Jordan, Jamison, Janson, and...I've honestly forgotten all of the rest. There's probably a page in one of my junior high journals with all of them listed. With big anxious ? marks and hearts for the last name!

Thankfully my 13 year-old self didn't get to dictate the gender of the children I eventually birthed. Someone wiser than I am sent me just what I needed, I'm sure. I wouldn't trade my girls for anything.

But I was blessed with one boy, and ironically he did get a J name afterall, Jon Clayton, although I've never made that connection to the J names of my teenage years until this very moment. Funny!

I always thought it'd be awesome to have sons who would grow up and have a tender place in their heart for their mom. You know. The kind that would open the door for me, or be there to take care of me when I'm a little old lady.

A few Sundays ago when Jon was away on business, I was sitting in between Clay and Jessica during sacrament meeting. The chapel was even colder than usual (which is hard to believe), and I leaned into Clay to get warm. And then he did something that nearly melted my heart.

He put his arm around me and pulled me close.

It was the first time he'd ever sat there like that with me, and I was just so touched by the tender gesture. I wanted to freeze that moment in time.

**********************************************
Last weekend Jon and I went to Utah. It was Jon's first time visiting his mom in the memory care/assisted living center where she now lives. He was so sweet with her, teasing her just like he always did when she was well, referring to himself as her favorite son Jon, etc. I just loved seeing them together again.

On Sunday morning we took Barbara to Temple Square to see Jackie play her violin in "Music and the Spoken Word" at the Tabernacle. At one point I looked over at Jon and Barbara, and this is what I saw:

There was Jon's arm wrapped around Barbara. And tears just began seeping out of my eyes.

Is there anything as tender as a son's affection for his mother?

And he doesn't seem a day over 65...

2010-10-01T20:20:00.000-07:00

My mother was widowed when she was just 54 years-old.

All of us recognized she was far too young to spend the rest of her life alone, so we hoped someday she would find a wonderful man to remarry.

And she did.

Lee has been a caring and devoted husband to my mom and a blessing to our family.

Lee with one of the pond critters the grandkids love

When Lee married my mom 9 years ago, I don't think he knew quite what he was getting in the bargain. Let's just say that mom's family of five daughters, thirteen grandchildren, and four great-grandchildren (counting Denver who will arrive any day now) has time and again proven to be just what most big families are: an unpredictable mixture of five parts chaos, confusion, heartbreak, and distress, three parts laughter, love and fun.

He still can't quite understand why our family wants to be ALL together whenever we can be. In his ideal life, he'd entertain one family at a time. But he tries his best to go along with our desire to be one big (happy) family even though it's a stretch for him.

After nine years, our family wouldn't be the same without him. We've all grown to love and appreciate him for his intelligence and generosity, not to mention his amazing cooking skills! And we've almost come to understand his sense of humor. (A put-down actually means he cares about you.) He's a vast storehouse of interesting stories, both about his own life and about the world in general. If there is something of importance happening anywhere on the planet, it seems Lee has read about it, formed an opinion about it, and is willing to share that knowledge with anyone who will listen. He's probably the most well-informed person I've ever met.

One of the sweetest moments we've personally had with Lee happened a few years ago when Jessica and I were heading home to California after a springtime visit to Memphis. As we were putting our suitcases in the car, Lee put his arm around Jessica and told her that she was a wonderful granddaughter and that he loved her. I guess it was in that moment that I realized we've become more to him than just Martha's family.

Today Lee celebrates his 71st birthday.

So...Happy Birthday, Lee.

We're so glad you're a part of our family.

Cue Neil Diamond: "Sweet Mad-e-lyn" Only don't sing it like "Line." Sing it like "Lyn." Never mind. Let's stick with Happy Birthday.

2010-09-27T17:52:00.000-07:00

Eighteen years ago today I went through an excruciating ordeal that literally involved blood, sweat and tears.

At the end of it, I was handed an adorable pink bundle, wailing at the top of her little lungs. I'll never forget thinking, "I know exactly how you feel!"

From that moment I knew all the pain of the pregnancy and natural childbirth (just had to throw that in) was worth it.

A friend once told me that if you really want to get to know someone, pay attention to their questions. A man’s questions reveal him more clearly than his statements ever will.

Maddy has always been a girl with questions.

As a very little girl she once asked her great grandmother why her skin was so wrinkly.

As a young girl she once asked my sister how much money she earned at her job.

As a sixteen year-old when we were in DC for spring break last year, she asked what would happen if someone threw a baby over the White House fence.

Just this May as we were driving down the freeway, Maddy asked me in all seriousness, “Mom, what would you do if a huge dinosaur just burst through those trees onto the highway?

Questions like those reveal Maddy’s vivid imagination, her intense curiosity and how completely uninhibited she is.

But Maddy has other questions.

Questions like how she can make a difference.

How she can forget about herself.

How she can help a friend feel loved at a time of struggle.

She asks why people have to suffer and what she can do to stop wars and contribute to the peace in the world.

Maddy’s questions reveal that she has a keen mind, a genuine interest in and love for other people, a deeply felt desire to spread light and peace and happiness wherever she goes.

How I adore Maddy!

How privileged I am to be her mother.

Letting Madelyn go off to university this past month has been as painful for me as the four hours of intense labor I suffered getting her here.

But watching her grow into an ever confident, independent and capable young woman will be worth it, I'm sure.

And won't it be exciting to see what questions she asks.

No Thanks!

2010-09-17T17:03:00.000-07:00

Dear SteveMadden.com:

A few months ago I was stunned to find a Maxim magazine in my mailbox. What??? I double checked the mailing label to see if it were by chance a mix-up with someone else's mail. But no, there was my name printed on the label. I was flummoxed. How in the world would a magazine that portrays women as nothing more than sleazy physical objects wind up in my mailbox? It had to be a fluke, I decided. I walked straight to the trash bin and dumped the magazine where it belonged.

A couple of weeks later, to my dismay, another one arrived.

I promptly tore off the label, tossed the magazine into the trash bin, and marched to my computer to figure out why this magazine was coming to my home.

After I entered the subscription number into the Maxim subscriber system, no record of a subscription in my name or with my address could be found.

Again I thought that it must be a fluke.

Nope. A few weeks later, another unwanted magazine arrived.

So I sent an email and left a voicemail for the publisher of the magazine asking that the subscription stop immediately.

No luck. More magazines.

Finally today after more detective work, I discovered that there was in fact a subscription to the magazine in my name. And guess what? It was a complementary gift of SteveMadden.com! Apparently when I ordered some boots online from your website last winter I got more than I bargained for.

Effective today, the subscription has been canceled, resolutely refused. So that part of the problem is solved.

But now I'm left to puzzle over why a shoe company would A) send an anonymous gift, and B) send a gift of an illicit nature that has nothing to do with the shoe company itself. What was in it for you? Some free advertising in the magazine for selling out your customers' information?

Most of your customers, I assume, are women. Here's a newsflash for you: not all of us women appreciate being portrayed as fodder for men like the women in that magazine. In fact, many of us find that downright insulting. In a world where the promotion of stereotypes is so NOT politically correct, I find it unfathomable that companies like yours and the publishers of Maxim persist in propagating one of the worst stereotypes of all--that women are chattel.

When I'm shopping for shoes in the future, you can be sure I'll be buying from one of your competitors.

Sincerely,

Adrianne Coleman

Pray and Wait

2010-09-12T14:59:00.000-07:00

I know God hears and answers our prayers.

Often, like a young child, I want my prayers answered overnight.

And every once in a while, to my surprise, they are.

Like last night. I prayed that my heart would be filled with love for Jon, that I'd be able to see him as the Lord sees him--for all of his goodness and potential.

When I woke this morning, I felt strangely disoriented, which occasionally happens in the transition between dreams and waking, when I can't remember exactly where I am. I instinctively reached over to feel for Jon, but he wasn't there. (He's been on a business trip in Europe since last Tuesday.) And my heart filled with such longing, such tenderness, such love for him that my eyes actually welled up with tears.

Wow. I felt so grateful that my request was heard and answered. Just. Like. That.

But more often my prayers take a little more time and a little more seasoning before the answers appear. Like when Jon was searching for job a few years ago and it took months and month before the long-prayed-for job materialized.

Why the wait for some answers? I've puzzled. Clearly, our Father-in-Heaven, who is All-powerful and All-knowing, could grant the job, cure the ill, bring the potential spouse, make fertile the womb--fix the problem--Just. Like. That. There is no order of difficulty for the Lord.

But in my experience, as wrenching as the wait can be, if we can humbly, patiently acknowledge that His ways are higher than ours, the added bonus of waiting is always personal growth and understanding, the kind that can only be gained through delay and the demonstration of continued faith.

I'm grateful the Lord trusts me--and you--enough to allow us to wait.

At the same time it's also nice to know that every once in a while, we don't have to.

I'm Rich!

2010-09-08T22:56:00.000-07:00

I came home from my trip to Utah last week feeling rich. Stinkin' rich.

But don't worry. I'm not referring to finances at all.

I'm rich in family and friends, in relationships with people that mean more to me than any amount of money ever could.

Like my awesome sister-in-law Cherilyn who has lovingly cared for my ailing mother-in-law for the past two years. Someday, when she is freed from the vicious grasp of Alzheimers, Barbara is going to look her daughter squarely in the eyes with crystal clarity, with full comprehension and appreciation for the innumerable sacrifices Cherilyn made on her behalf. What a moment that will be. Cherilyn is married to a kind and patient man who willingly dealt with the insanity of that situation and supported his wife and mother-in-law through it all. Cherilyn and John have gorgeous children and grandchildren who are the light of their lives. I just loved being with them and witnessing how close-knit a grown family can be.

Then there's my own sister Carla and her family. Carla is one of the most dependable, independent and hard-working women I know. She has a full-time job but still manages to cook nutritionally, exercise (at 5:30 am no less), keep a clean house, and even mow her lawn! Without complaint! I'm beyond impressed with how she manages her time and resources. Her son Jake and his wife Jamie are expecting their first baby next month, and their excitement over baby Denver's arrival is palpable! Jake couldn't keep from grinning when he talked about it. Darling Bethanie shared some of her fun college adventures. I'm so happy for Carla that she has found love and companionship in her life with Ryan.

I also had the privilege of spending an afternoon with one of the women I wish I was related to but have had to settle for being her friend--Cathy Crittenden. From the moment we met more than 20 years ago, Cathy has been like a beloved sister to me. We laugh at the memories from back in the day when I used to sleep at their home in Belmont while Jon was out of town on business. I was such a scaredy cat, it's true, but I also just loved being with Cathy and her darling family. Cathy and Gary were so good to us back then, giving us their no-longer-needed baby crib and matching armoire, which we used with all of our babies. During my visit Cathy and I spent hours catching up on our families, our joys, our disappointments, our life-experiences, our mutual friends. Sitting in her perfectly appointed home with the afternoon sun streaming in, I wish wish WISHED I were her next-door neighbor so I could soak up all of her wisdom and love. She's a fountain of love. And encouragement. How I treasure her!

Then there's my extended family. When I was a child, my parent's social lives were entirely centered around their siblings and families. Aunts, uncles and cousins on both sides were some of my most favorite people anywhere. Still are. I got to have breakfast with my dad's stunning niece Kandis who is a brainiac accountant now attending BYU law school. And I got to attend church with my mom's nephew Brance, his wife Becki and their six children. The youngest kids were delightfully entertaining (from my perspective but I guess not so much from Brance's) and during the meeting, to Brance's chagrin, I got hit on by one of the ward members, who said he was really sad I was married or he would have asked me on a date. LOL. Then we all got to enjoy a delicious lunch at Junior and Sherie's (who are two of the best people I know, BTW) with more of the Hammons and Goring cousins. They are all just awesome, and I adore each and every one of them.

Reconnecting with all of these and other wonderful people was like helium to my soul. I was filled and filled and filled until I could practically burst with love, appreciation and admiration. For that reason It's probably a good thing I didn't get to see everyone in Utah I wished I could have. Or I might not have made it home in one piece.

I am rich. Indeed.

Why the Lights in Provo are Shining Brighter Now

2010-08-30T17:00:00.000-07:00

When I was pregnant with Maddy nearly 18 years ago, I had a secret worry.

I worried that I would never be able to love the new baby as much as I loved little two year-old McKelle.

After many sleepless nights (but who ever really sleeps well during pregnancy), I finally resigned myself to the notion that once the baby came, as long as I never told anyone, I could probably keep it my little secret that I loved McKelle the most.

Imagine my surprise when, at the moment the nurse placed Madelyn in my arms for the first time, I was overcome with an intense, almost fierce love for that wailing baby, even deeper and stronger than what I had felt when I met McKelle for the first time. (In THAT first meeting it was an overwhelming mix of wonder and fear that I felt more than anything else. The I'd-die-for-you kind of love came with time.)

Later I figured out that my love for McKelle paved the way for me to love Maddy. At Maddy's birth I knew what was in store. I knew what it meant to be a mother, knew what flavor of joy was ahead.

This past week I helped Maddy move and settle into her dorm at BYU, just as I did with McKelle two years ago.

Only this time around was ten times harder than before.

And I think it's because this time around I know what it really means to have a daughter go off to university.

McKelle's experiences have paved the way for me to understand that Maddy will likely never really live at home again, at least it won't ever feel the same again. In the two years since McKelle left for BYU, two weeks is the longest she has been home at any one time.

This time around I know what flavor of empty is ahead.

Of course I'm happy for Maddy.

Of course I know that she is embarking on one of life's sweetest journeys.

Of course I know she's going to have the time of her life, meet a thousand fascinating people, learn a million new things, and of course I know she's gonna shine.

But, man, does it feel like part of my heart is missing.

Like someone dimmed the lights around here.

Happy Birthday to the nearly 6' tall Young Man that was once my Baby

2010-06-09T10:20:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure where the term "the terrible two's" got started.

My kids were pretty adorable at two. Sure they had occasional meltdowns and got into every thing under the sun, but they really didn't know what they were doing.

Three was the age I found hard. When you ask a three year-old to come to you and they look at you with complete understanding and still run the opposite direction, that's when it's terrible. I've always said I would have had ten kids if I could skip the three and a half stage.

Later I discovered that it wasn't three that was the worst part.

Thirteen to fifteen makes three look like a cake walk. Thirteen to fifteen is the age when I didn't really recognize my kids as the same humans I had once coddled and bathed and fed and read to and rocked. That's the age when it felt at times that aliens had taken over.

But something happens when they turn fifteen.

All of a sudden the aliens depart and the person they leave behind is more reasonable, grateful, nice, and responsible than you ever dared to dream.

Clay turned fifteen today.

Wow.

Welcome back to planet Earth, buddy.

You're awesome!

I'm thrilled by the person you are becoming and so proud of all that you do everyday to be a productive, accomplished, worthy young man.

Happy 15th Birthday!

You've got Spirit!

2010-05-14T11:16:00.000-07:00

One of the most powerful experiences of my life was sitting beside the bed of my maternal grandmother as she passed away. So much truth was conveyed and reiterated through that experience, one of which was the absolute reality of our spirits, our souls.

In the instant my grandmother's spirit left her body, her face no longer looked like the same person. The change was striking. The physical body she left behind looked strangely like someone I didn't quite know, and it wasn't just that the cancer had emaciated her. The life force of what made Grandma Hammons who she was and what she looked like--her spirit, her soul, was no longer giving animation and life to her body. Seeing the instantaneous physical change in her face upon her death was profound.

One thing I know for sure is that human beings are made up of a body and a spirit. I also know for sure that when our bodies die, our spirits do not. This is one of the reasons I'm passionate about spiritual ideas.

I read this today and wanted to share it. One of my favorite talk radio hosts and authors, Marianne Williamson succinctly captures some ways and outcomes of paying attention to our spiritual lives:

10 Ways to Stay Spiritually Connected

"1. Recognize your Creator. Think on this: There is a supreme power in the universe that is bigger and more powerful than your small mortal self. This step makes you humble.

2. Seek opportunities to put more love into the world. Strive to be a vessel of love, to fill the world with more compassion and kindness. This step makes you loving and lovable.

3. Set aside time each day to spend in spiritual reflection and contemplation. Dwell in the presence of the divine: Your path may be to pray, meditate, read spiritual material, take a long walk through nature—or all of the above—but an optimum practice includes both morning and evening sessions of at least 20 minutes each. This step makes you strong.

4. Become more accepting. With every interaction, surrender any tendency to judge another person. Pray for a more accepting heart. This step makes you gracious.

5. Forgive anyone you have not forgiven. Whenever you withhold forgiveness, you keep yourself bound to your own feelings of guilt. This step makes you kind.

6. Recognize your mistakes. Admit where you yourself have been wrong, and be willing to be corrected. This step makes you responsible.

7. Try to see the good in others. When you're tempted to judge someone, make an effort to see their goodness. Your willingness to look for the best in people will subconsciously bring it forth. This step makes you positive.

8. Take stock of your thoughts and behavior. Each night ask yourself, when were you negative when you could have been positive? When did you withhold love when you might have given it? When did you play a neurotic game instead of behaving in a powerful way? Use this process to self-correct. This step makes you grow.

9. Bless the world. Pray not just that your own life will be blessed but that blessings be poured on everyone. This step makes you beautiful.

10. Use each interaction to be the best, most powerful version of yourself. Try to rise to the occasion. Be the most wonderful expression of you that you're capable of. This step makes you a conduit of God's love."

from http://www.oprah.com/spirit/Spiritual-Development-and-Healing-Practices-from-Marianne-Williamson

Surprise! I'm back!

2010-05-11T18:16:00.000-07:00

Last spring a little house finch showed up one day, tapping at my kitchen window.

He tapped and he tapped and he tapped.

At first my family and I thought he was adorable. "What is it he wants?" we all wondered.

Hour after hour he tapped.

Day after day he tapped.

After a month or so the little bird lost some of its charm. Even though his persistency was admirable, his tapping became just a tad tiresome.

Finally one early fall day the tapping stopped and the little bird was gone. All that remained were little beakprints on my window. (I kid you not.)

Last week, out of the blue, the little finch came back. He's tapping again, on and off. And he's chosen a different kitchen window. But he's back just the same.

And even though we were all glad for the break, we were actually kindof happy to see him return.

I hope that's what some of you readers will feel about my return here. (At least three of you have expressed that you missed me :)

Yes, I'm back.

I'm not exactly sure what was behind the hiatus.

I've mentally written scores of posts since I've been away.

Like the one about becoming a smore-aholic.

And the one about kayaking over a whale in the open sea.

There was one about how happy I was when Clay asked me to chaperone a freshman field trip.

And there was one trying to make sense of why I got into a fender bender in Jon's car after a day spent serving other people. (Surely that service should have spared me a $1000 mishap????)

One post was a rave review about the heartwarming book I'm reading, "The Gift of an Ordinary Day," a book for any mother who has struggled with having her children grow up on her and all.

And there were others. Things I thought "I should blog about that!" but I never sat down to do it.

C'est la vie.

There's nothing I like better than a fresh start!

(Except smores, that is.)

Happy Birthday (late) to Miss JessieBella

2010-04-27T18:29:00.000-07:00

Some families throw birthday parties for their children every other year. (How I wish I had thought of that ingenious idea back when we only had McKelle.)

I have a different tradition.

The birthday blog. And it happens, as it turns out, every other year. (And it also turns out that it doesn't matter if it's posted way after the birthday because of the post-dating option on blogs!)

Some readers hate reading blog posts about other people's children on their birthdays.

If you're one of them, skip this post.

I'm warning you up front that it's going to be full of gushy, totally biased ravings about my baby.

When Jessica was almost two, one morning she and McKelle were playing together on our backyard swingset in New Jersey.

McKelle was eleven and in that pre-teen lanky stage, like a newborn foal, all awkward in its long-leggedness. She took hold of Jessica's little pudgy hand and helped her climb up the slide. It was an ordinary moment that was seared into my conscious memory. In that moment I was struck with wonder as if by bricks at McKelle's transformation from her own pudgy baby self into a stunning tweenie. The juxtaposition between her impossibly long, skinny arms and Jessica's little baby squishy arms was remarkable to me.

Now as I look at Jessie I'm reminded of that lanky preteen that McKelle once was. How Jess went from the once curly-headed, pudgy-wristed toddler to this twelve year-old beauty is amazing to me. I was here, a witness to the day by day transformation, but I'm still shocked by it.

How I love my Jessica. She saves me from my distracted harried life on a daily basis. She writes sticky notes to remind me of things I would surely forget. She helps out in a jam with everything from changing the laundry to throwing last minute ingredients in a soup as I dash out the door. And she's always willing to do whatever needs to be done.

Jess has recently begun pursuing a new passion. She's taken up acting lessons in Los Angeles, has signed with an agent, and is now auditioning for commercials. Through the process she's developed courage and confidence by the bucketful. Facing a room full of casting directors/producers/executives would be intimidating for me, but she goes in with poise and ease, and simply turns on the JessieBella charm. She has an uncanny ability to walk away from an audition and not worry whether or not she gets the job. She understands it's about more than how well she did or didn't do. I'm amazed by her maturity. For me the best part is the time we have together driving to and from LA. It's become treasured bonding time for us.

Happy 12th Birthday, Jessica!I hope someday you are lucky enough to have a little girl just like you so you can fully understand the joy you bring us!

Here's to Organized Religion

2010-03-11T10:32:00.000-08:00

Organized religion gets such a bad rap.

I've heard scores of people ranging from journalists to celebrities to family and friends claim, "I just don't believe in organized religion."

Which always makes me think, "That's too bad."

Setting aside the fact that I believe the tenets of my religion are actually true, I love what organized religion does for me and my family.

Friday night, for example, Jon and Jessica attended a church-sponsored Daddy/Daughter sock hop.

They had a ball together competing in a bubble gum blowing contest, dancing the twist, trying to pop a ballon between them as they squeezed each other tight. They dressed up in '50s clothes and enjoyed root beer floats.

Hard to imagine where else Jon and Jess could have gone for that kind of event.

As a young girl I, too, went to church-sponsored daddy/daughter parties. Some of my most cherished photos of me and my dad come from just such occasions,

not to mention the priceless tribute my dad wrote about me for one of these church parties. All thanks to organized religion.

I serve in the Young Women's program in my church, and week after week I watch amazing, talented women working to provide love, encouragement and moral guidance to the teen girls in our congregation. As a mother t's so comforting to know that in addition to my family circle, there are other good people out there who love and pray for my kids, who support and encourage them to make wise choices, who provide wholesome, worthwhile activities for them and who show them by example how to become happy, stable, contributing human beings.

Thanks to organized religion, my son has a slew of mentors--successful men in a range of careers--who look out for him and share advice and guidance. I love knowing that if Clay decides to be a doctor or lawyer or engineer or entrepreneur or banker or dentist etc, he has men in my church he can turn to for direction.

Thanks to organized religion, every time I've moved around this world I've had an instant group of friends, wonderful people ready and willing to help with everything from unloading washing machines to finding a good pediatrician or babysitter.

Thanks to organized religion, my kids have the confidence to stand up and share their beliefs, to give a public speech, to teach a lesson in front of their peers.

Thanks to organized religion, my children have an entire community who shares similar values and who helps them know they are not alone in this crazy, confusing world.

Here's to organized religion. It does a family good.

20 Reasons to Adore McKelle

2010-02-22T17:27:00.000-08:00

To celebrate McKelle's momentous 20th birthday, here are twenty reasons I adore my girl:

1-She was my first baby love. Nothing can compare to the feeling of having your first baby placed in your arms, her first smile, her first giggle, her first tooth, her first word, her first step. She was the first big sister in our family. There is something undeniably special about being the first.

2-She's brilliant. Seriously so smart.

3-She's gorgeous. Her blue-green eyes are, in a word, stunning.

4-She's unaware of both her beauty and her brilliance. She doesn't see it. Which is good or she'd be hard to live with.

5-She's a make-it-happen kinda girl. She always finds a way, whether its finding a last minute international flight at Christmas or finding a way to pay for a study abroad. That's why she'd be the perfect partner on the Amazing Race.

6-She loves to learn. At school. At home. At church. From life.

7-She believes in the power of positive thought.

8-She devours books. All kinds. From the classics to best sellers, self-help to Sherlock Holmes.

9-She's beyond creative and artistic. She can make a simple doodle look like a piece of art.

10-She's a blast to spend time with. FUN, FUN, FUN!

11-She's incredibly social yet shy at the same time.

12-She loves giving me all the details.

13-She's passionate about politics and education, her favorite bands, and good winning over evil, among countless other things.

14-She's a bit neurotic about excelling.

15-She's interested and curious. Which makes it hard to settle on just one major.

16-She forgives.

17-She's not afraid to work hard, mentally or physically. Even if it means drilling holes and running wires.

18-She's a best friend to so many, including her mom.

19-She's got an unlimited number of natural talents. She's basically good at everything she tries.

20-She's not perfect. But she's a beautiful work in progress.

In a Word (or two)

2010-02-06T09:35:00.000-08:00

Reading Benjamin Franklin's autobiography recently, I was struck by what he chose to have inscribed on his parents' headstone.

"JOSIAH FRANKLIN, and ABIAH, his Wife, lie here interred.
They lived lovingly together in wedlock fifty-five years.
Without an estate, or any gainful employment,
By constant labor and industry, with God's blessing.
They maintained a large family comfortably, and brought up thirteen children and seven grandchildren reputably.
From this instance, reader, Be encouraged to diligence in thy calling,
And distrust not Providence.
He was a pious and prudent man;
She, a discreet and virtuous woman."

Of all the words he could have used, "discreet and virtuous" are the words Franklin chose to capture the essence of his mother. Discreet is defined as "having or showing discernment or good judgment in conduct and especially in speech" and virtuous is "having virtue; morally excellent." What high honor Franklin bestowed upon his mother with those two words.

All week I've been wondering what two words would best describe me?

I've decided which two words I wish would best describe me.

Faithful and caring.

Hopefully I have enough years left to prove that to be true.

What two words would you like to be remembered for? Share!

Waking Up!

2010-02-01T22:57:00.000-08:00

(A California sunrise from my bedroom window)

January seems to be my month for deep reflection.
Remember my "Change of Heart" post last year at this time?
Well, I've spent this January laboring on self analysis as well.
This year I want to become more conscious, for lack of a better word.

In fact, the theme I've chosen for myself in 2010 is "living consciously."
Specifically, I want to become more conscious about

how I nourish my body and spirit

how I spend my time

how I use my thoughts

what I say

how I react
and

what I create,

e.g. gardening, writing, cooking, baking, sewing, teaching.

Today I'm starting a new, private blog I'm calling "The Year of Living Consciously." There I plan to chronicle my efforts to become a more conscious human being. If it becomes something worthwhile, I'll share it. If not, well, then it will just remain my own private experiment.

Here's to living consciously!

Do other creatures know they will die? And other thoughts.

2010-01-20T17:07:00.000-08:00

Humans are fascinating creatures.

We walk and breathe and talk and go about our days as if we are not sentenced to death.

Yet we all know that someday each and every one of us must die. It's unavoidable.

And still we pretend each day that we have all the time in the world.

On Sunday one of the people I dearly love hung in the balance between life and death.

I spent a good portion of the afternoon praying, weeping, and wondering how we humans cope with the knowledge that life here is fragile, fleeting, temporary.

And then I sat down with my brother-in-law and watched some meaningless television.

Pretending that life goes on.

Which it does.

Only we never know when it will end.

Just.

Like.

That.

Thankfully my loved one has stabilized. For now.

But that could change in a heartbeat.

For her. Or for me. Or for you.

Oh, there are songs and poems and famous quotes that encourage us

to live like we are dying,

as if tomorrow never comes,

as if the end is near.

But we don't.

We just keep pretending.

Tales of Impersonation

2010-01-12T20:07:00.000-08:00

Will the real Mr. Coleman please raise his hand?

So with all of the privacy laws passed in the last decade, I've found myself in the most aggravating situations when I've phoned a company/bank/institution only to find out that the policy/account/portfolio is in Jon's name and therefore I can't get whatever information it is I'm calling about.

"Sorry, Mrs. Coleman, I can't give out this information to anyone but Mr. Coleman. Is he available?"

He's never available.

In desperation, I've resorted to all sorts of tactics.

A few times I've conferenced my brother-in-law on the calls so HE can impersonate Jon.

On occasion I've passed myself off as "Joan Coleman," hoping that the agent figures J-o-n is a funky spelling of Joan.

A time or two I've even spoken in my deepest voice to try to pass myself off as Mr. Coleman.

Surprisingly, I've actually gotten away with it.

Except once.

The customer service rep asked if Mr. Coleman were available; I said I'd get him. I waited a few moments and then said "Hello" in my manliest voice.

The representative paused. Then he asked another question.

When I answered, he paused again and then said, "Mrs. Coleman, I know this is you!"

I fell to the floor in a fit of laughter.

(I truly hope that shenanigan gets the agent lots of mileage when he's telling stories at dinner parties.)

After that I decided I should probably retire from impersonating my husband.

So yesterday I recruited Clay to do it. His deep voice even fools me sometimes and his name is actually Jon. That works, right?

I had written out all of the questions Clay needed to ask. He was cool as a cucumber and got all of the answers. But then the agent on the phone said something Clay didn't understand, so he began hemming and hawing.

When he looked at me for help, I lost it. I ran out of the room laughing hysterically, leaving Clay to flounder on his own. Of course he burst out laughing, too, and did what any bright 14 year-old would do.

Hung up.

And then we laughed until our sides hurt.

The Joy of Running

2010-01-08T17:26:00.000-08:00

I love watching runners.

They're fascinating.

Today I saw a runner sprinting for all he was worth down the neighborhood.

I've seen other runners who jog slower than I walk.

I've seen runners soaked, absolutely soaked, in sweat.

I've seen runners who look like they don't want to mess up their fingernails.

I've seen runners--male and female--who have such incredibly muscular legs that my jaw drops.

I've seen runners that are so obviously new to it that I can't help

thinking "Bless your heart" or "Good for you! Go you!"

I've seen runners with dogs on leashes running in front of them.

I've seen runners with dogs without leashes

running perfectly beside them. So cool.

I've seen runners out in all sorts of weather--blazing sun, pouring rain, freezing snow.

I've seen runners pushing babies and children in strollers.

I've seen runners pushing dogs in strollers. For real.

What I love most about runners is...

passing them.

In my car.

AD's recipe for a Good Day

2010-01-06T11:19:00.000-08:00

Yesterday my to-do list was a mile long.

After the holidays and with the start of a New Year (and a new decade to boot), I felt energized to get back on a schedule and begin putting my house--and mind--back in order.

I hopped out of bed at 5:55 am to get a pre-seminary breakfast for Maddy and Clay.

By 6:25 am I had loaves of bread rising so that I could make Clay his favorite sandwich (homemade bread and pastrami) for lunch.

While the bread was rising, I read my scriptures and had an actual conversation with Jon before he left for work.

Then I got Jessica up and didn't overreact to her morning melt down. (Mornings are not her thing.) Together we quickly skimmed her science reading assignment and slapped answers on her workbook before we raced out the door.

After dropping her off, I made my bed, said my prayers, and sat in the sunshine on my patio with my eyes closed and meditated for a few moments. (Something I've resolved to do more of in the new decade.)

All before 9:30 am.

Later, with lunches for Maddy and Clay ready to go, I hopped in my car to get to the high school before break.

But when I got to the school, I realized I had left the lunches sitting on the counter at home.

And from there the great start to my day became, well, a bit of a bust.

With distractions aplenty--all worthwhile, I assure you--I never got one other thing on my list accomplished.

So did I drop into bed last night discouraged over a to-do list gone awry?

No, I didn't.

Here's why.

A few months ago I determined what, for me, makes a good day.

If I do these six simple things on any given day, I give myself permission to go to bed feeling like I had a good day. Regardless of any other outcome.

Pray/meditate.
Read my scriptures.
Learn something new.
Serve/love.
Laugh.
Spend some time outdoors.

Prayer and meditation is my key to inviting the Spirit into my life. My greatest wish, honestly, my GREATEST WISH is to have the Spirit guide my life daily.

When I read the scriptures I always walk away with some bit of inspiration or insight. I feel like a brighter soul after spending time--whether it's 5 minutes or 30--in the scriptures.

Learning something new each day helps me fill my mind with new ideas and new ways of seeing the world. Usually my "learning something new" is fulfilled by reading (which I squeeze in any time/place I can) or by listening to one of the radio hosts I love, either on Oprah XM or NPR.

Service is the sincerest expression of love, in my experience. And the more I serve, in even small ways, the more love I feel. Just a phone call to check up on my 81 year-old friend or assisting Jess with her homework when she feels overwhelmed helps me feel as if I've made a difference in someone's life on any given day.

Laughter, I've found, is healing to the soul. Yesterday I laughed, really deeply laughed, while Clay was singing Italian opera in my kitchen. Somehow life looks and feels better after a good hearty laugh.

Spending time outdoors helps me keep my perspective and brings clarity to my mind. Maddy and I went on a 3 mile walk together after school. Seeing the mountains, feeling the breeze, smelling the California sage does wonders for me. When my children were all small and I'd call Jon in moments of feeling like I was going to lose my mind, he'd always tell me "GO OUTSIDE. Bundle everyone up and go outside!" It always worked to restore my perspective. And it still does.

So even if I didn't get the Christmas decorations put away or plan the week's menu or put away the contents of my suitcase, or a myriad of other tasks,

yesterday was a good day.

A Christmas laugh for you

2009-12-18T08:38:00.000-08:00

December is already more than halfway over and I've not posted a single thought.

Hmmm. Tells you something.

I have a post in the works all about our fabulous family get-together in Florida but haven't had time to finish it. It's not like I've had a bunch of shopping and wrapping to do. Our Disneyworld trip WAS our Christmas. And there's not been any Christmas card addressing or stamping...it looks like we'll be lucky to send a New Year's card this year. It's been a low-key Christmas in many ways yet I have no time to sit still. Well, okay, I did sit this morning in Jon's massage recliner and played one round of Brain Age on Clay's Nintendo DS. I figured I deserved that 20 minutes after spending the entire day, the ENTIRE day, in the kitchen yesterday making caramel popcorn and cinnamon rolls for friends and neighbors, and preparing our special Christmas Eve dinner that we had a week early. (Don't ask why. Long story.)

Today I just had to share this funny photo that McKelle's Honors English teacher posted on her blog.

Her son learned some baby sign language when he was little.

Here he is signing "Help!"

What a scream.

Hope you have lots of reasons to laugh and rejoice in the next week as you get through the buildup to Christmas!

Gr8ful

2009-11-20T10:48:00.000-08:00

One of the many writing projects that I've started is...

EXCUSE THE SHORT INTERRUPTION:

(Dear Lord,
Please let don't let me die before I actually finish one of my writing projects.

I don't know if I could take self-loathing for eternity.

That sounds like hell and I really don't want to go there.

Love you!

AD)

...is a book on gratitude for teens.

I'm passionate about gratitude!

I've spent hours and hours and hours reading and gathering quotes, stories, scriptures, and scientific studies on gratitude (oh, yes, there are lots of scientific studies!).

I've also spent hours and hours pondering about gratitude and its incomparable, almost magical power to transform the way we see life.

So when I read this lovley blog post on gratitude today, I just had to share it.

Just in time for Thanksgiving!

Four new Favs

2009-11-16T13:56:00.000-08:00

Oprah isn't the only one with a list of favorites this season.

Here are a few things I've fallen for lately:

1- Hats. I've always loved hats. Somehow they add a bit of flair and drama to any outfit. For my birthday I got these two ______ hats. (Fill in the blank...maybe you think they are darling or dorky or daring or...) Hats are great conversation starters!

Here's a fun photo of McKelle in Dublin sporting her own adorable hat!

(She and a group of friends from Italy flew to Dublin this past weekend to see the

Backstreet Boys in concert. Lucky!)

2. Scarves. I read something in the grocery line or overheard someone on the radio say that scarves are the must-have fashion accessory this season. Whatever. But scarves, like hats, do make a statement. This fun scarf was another birthday gift my girls helped me choose.

3. Shake It photo app for the iPhone. This crazy cool app lets you take Polaroid shots with your phone or turn an existing photo into a Polaroid. You have to shake the phone while the photo is "developing." Colors are always vibrant and striking with this app.

Jess on Halloween as a Hawaiian girl

4. "A Million Miles in a Thousand Years" by Don Miller. Okay, I canNOT put this book down nor stop thinking about it. In a nutshell it's the story of a man who was editing his memoir to turn it into a screenplay when he realized that he was no longer living a very interesting or meaningful "story." So he began applying screenplay writing principles to his daily life. Remember our online book club that we've let languish? Let's start again with this book! Let's all read it by New Years and I'll host an online book discussion on January 1. Everyone who reads this blog (whether you are a regular commenter or just a lurker) is welcome to join in! You'll see life with a changed perspective after reading this, I promise.

What are some of your latest favorites? Do share!

What's wrong with this Picture?

2009-11-09T18:31:00.000-08:00

So two of my girlfriends and I went to an afternoon matinee today.

I haven't been to a movie in the middle of the day for ages!

Looking around before the movie started,
I realized that I was the youngest person there,

by several decades in fact.

One of the friends I was with is 81 and the other one is 91,

and the rest of the movie patrons were somewhere between those two ages.

But guess who fell asleep during the movie?

Ummm, yeah.

(The movie was "Amelia" and it was actually pretty good.

At least what I saw of it.)

Sigh.

A Sleep-deprived Teen and a Challenge

2009-10-30T16:11:00.000-07:00

Here's my fourteen year-old.

Here's my fourteen year-old on Early Morning Seminary.

I can't count the number of times since school
and 6:30 am seminary started that
I've gone into his room at night and found him conked out...

playing his guitar,

studying,

reading,

or working on a memorization challenge his dad gave him.

What was the challenge?

Memorize all 25 seminary scripture mastery passages
by October 31.

That's over 1800 words in less than 45 days.

The reward?

An annual pass to Disneyland.

Did Clay make it?

Well, today is October 3o and

Clay's at Disneyland.

(That's a shot McKelle took a while back of Clay on the Disney spinning teacups.
Cool, huh?!)

PS.

I asked Jon if he really thought this type of incentive was a good idea.

Jon's response?

"God gave us the ultimate incentive--keep the commandments and you'll get eternal life.

Hey, if it works for Him, it works for me."

How can I argue with that?!?

Baby love

2009-10-25T23:34:00.000-07:00

Sleeping soundly at a lovely ocean-side resort with my family, I was awakened at an early hour by the tell-tale sound of an incoming text message.

Thousands of miles away my little sister Nikki had safely delivered her new baby boy.

As if an internal faucet had been ever so slightly turned, tears began seeping from the corners of my eyes.

I lay in bed for a few moments quietly considering the miracle of this new little person whose arrival that August morning had--in an instant--forever changed our family.

A nephew. My sister's son. My mother's grandson. My FATHER's grandson. My children's cousin. My nephew's brother. My niece's brother.

Knowing my swirling thoughts would not allow me to go back to sleep, I slipped out of the room, careful not to disturb the four lanky, sleeping beauties who, one by one, were once my own newborn loves.

I needed to put a name to my emotions and make sense of my tears.

So I sauntered along the shore as the morning sun was just beginning to highlight the rippling waves, watching as my bare feet left imprints in the spongy wet sand, occasionally stopping to look back and see the frothy wash erase my footsteps.

What were these feelings?

Envy? Maybe. Okay, yes.

Jealousy? A bit.

Longing? As always, longing to be physically closer to my family for moments like these.

Regret? A measure of regret that I was once certain four babies would be enough.

But there was something more.

Then, like one of the waves I had been admiring, realization washed over me and I understood.

Joy.

My tears were really tears of joy.

JOY!

A new baby for me to love!

Thoughts on a 23-year Marriage

2009-10-12T13:43:00.000-07:00

Our kids are mortified. At least Jessica is.

Jon and I won't be spending our actual wedding anniversary together.

Gasp.

On the 16th he's heading to New Orleans for a business conference that he has to attend.

I'll be flying to Memphis to get my hands on my darling new nephew, baby Spencer.

SOOOO....to Jessie's chagrin, we celebrated a bit early. (Maybe someday she'll understand that after this long the date is not the important part. What matters is that we still like to be together!)

We started out with a 10-mile bike ride from the top of San Diego's Mt. Soledad with its stunning panoramic view of the city...

and made our way to Windandsea beach...

where we saw seals lounging on the rocky shore...

and dolphins frolicking in the water.

(okay, not these dolphins, but isn't that the coolest photo?)

Then we went kayaking by the caves in La Jolla Cove

where we watched dozens of leopard sharks cruising around below us. Awesome!

Jon and I love spending time outdoors together so it was the perfect outing in honor of our 23 years.

23 years. That sounds crazy, even to me. My parents celebrated their 23rd anniversary in 1983. I remember 1983 like it was yesterday! Have we really become the ages they were back then? I figured out that Jon first met my parents when my dad was 45. Jon just turned 46 in August. How did that happen?!?

When I started out as a young wife all those years ago, I really thought I'd be so much further along in maturity and wisdom by the time I reached this point. That after 23 years of marriage I would have it all figured out.

But we're still learning, still working through the seasons that tend to cycle through marriage. Some days we both hate it when Jon has to leave to go to work and some days...well, it's a relief for us both to have a little space.

Marriage isn't easy. But, heck, neither was childbirth. Both experiences are worth any amount of blood, sweat and tears for a successful outcome.

While I'm not as far along as I thought I'd be, I have discovered a few things along the way. The best marriages, I've found, are grounded firmly in prayer, selflessness, loyalty, and a 'no-matter-what' commitment. I've also discovered that the level of contentment I feel in my marriage on any given day is directly proportional to how committed I'm feeling toward those principles.

It's nice when anniversaries come around and you find yourself in a good place, like we are right now, when you're filled with gratitude that at the end of the day you get to sleep next to the person who knows you better than anyone else on the planet.

And loves you anyway.

Why I Love the first weekend in October

2009-10-08T13:52:00.000-07:00

Imagine for a moment that the Bible is true.

Just think about it.

That would mean that God truly interacted in times past with his children on this earth. That God established a pattern of revealing his will to prophets who in turn led and taught the people of their day. If the Bible were true, it would also mean that Jesus Christ is literally the Son of God, who lived on the earth and taught eternal truths about love and hope and faith. That he truly called twelve apostles who were to teach and testify those same truths to all who would believe in him.

Now imagine for a moment that God loves the people on the earth today every bit as much as he loved those people who were led and taught by prophets and apostles in Biblical times.

And imagine that God continues to interact with his children on this earth, through the established pattern of revealing his will to prophets and apostles who are to teach and testify of Christ.

Just think about that.

I believe the Bible is true. And I believe all that that means about prophets and apostles, Jesus Christ, love and hope and faith.

I also believe that God continues to love his children, all of us, that he continues to interact with us, and he continues to reveal his will to prophets and apostles whose role it is to testify of Christ and to help the world understand God's will and his ways.

That's why I listened intently, with an open heart and mind, to the guidance, encouragement and reminders given by the prophet and apostles at my church's General Conference this past weekend.

It was awesome.

What NOT to do Under the Influence

2009-10-01T10:05:00.000-07:00

It begins as just a little irritability. You notice that people--clerks at stores, other customers, acquaintances, even the people you love the most-- have become just a tad annoying.

Little by little your thoughts begin slipping from their usual positive "I love my life" to things like "how did I get myself into this mess."

The voice in your head starts to sound all snarky, and you hear it saying a sarcastic "yeah, right" to more and more of the conversations around you.

You wonder if you might strangle the next person who looks at you funny. And everyone looks at you funny.

When this happens, you are under the influence of...PMS.

Here's what NOT to do:

Think too deeply. Any mental attempt to figure out why you didn't go to grad school before you had children, or what you want to do with yourself in this next phase of life should be avoided at all costs.

Speak. Better to stay mum than to let out the words that will take even you by surprise.

Look at yourself. Your hips. Your skin. Your greying eyebrows. Just try to avoid mirrors, period.

Go out in public. Skip out on things like scouting events where you'll have to restrain yourself from tearing into the boys on the front row who sit there smirking, painfully undermining the confidence of the younger boys as they each go up to receive their merit badges. (At any other time it wouldn't bother you. Much.)

Go down the cookie aisle.

Work on math problems for a standardized test. Those algebraic and geometric equations that were once second nature will suddenly look a lot like a cross between kanji and hieroglyphics.

Sit with a child while she practices her piano. Ouch.

Do cling to the knowledge that in just a few days the stranger in your body will miraculously morph back into the real you and your family members will be able to breathe again.

The Napping House...Where Everyone is Sleeping

2009-09-21T10:29:00.000-07:00

What is it about napping children that makes it feel as if all's right with the world?

I remember feeling that so tangibly when my kids were little. Seeing them asleep in the middle of the day brought me such an overwhelming feeling of peace and contentment. Not just because what their naps freed me to accomplish, although that was a part of it, but also because I knew that they would wake refreshed and rejuvenated. If a nap was skipped, I could count on an afternoon filled with meltdowns over every. little. thing.

How I always dreaded the day when the kids gave up their naps, which hit for each of them just before they turned three. When the battle to get them to nap took more effort than the occasional nap yielded in return benefits, I knew it was time to give up.

Little did I know that there'd come a time when we'd have a return to napping. But yesterday when I woke up from my own Sunday nap, this is what I found:

It was a first. And you know what? In that moment it felt like all was right with the world...

Perspective

2009-09-16T11:23:00.000-07:00

"An old Chinese farmer had one horse and one son.

One day his horse ran away. All of his neighors told him what a bad thing it was to lose his horse.

The wise old Chinese man said "Bad or good, I don't know..."

After a few days the man's horse came back for food and water. With the horse were 9 other wild horses. All of his neighbors said what a good thing to have so many horses!

The wise old Chinese man said "Bad or good, I don't know..."

The man's only son set out to train the wild horses. One day he was thrown from a horse and broke his leg. All of the man's neighbors said what a bad thing it was to have his only son break his leg.

The wise old Chinese man said "Bad or good, I don't know..."

A few days later the royal army came to take all of the young, able bodied men to go to war. The old Chinese farmer's son was still in bed with his broken leg and because of that, he was left behind. All of the soldiers from the village were killed in the war."

Elder Bradley Foster shared this story in our Stake Conference this past weekend. He spoke about keeping perspective and not losing faith when difficult things come into our lives. It's easy to be faithful and at peace when life is going as we expect it should; it's much harder to keep our trust firmly in the Lord when we're faced with challenges and trials, many of which seem unfair. One thing Elder Foster said that really struck me: "The common denominator between success and failure is that neither will last forever." If we can keep a clear perspective that the Lord knows what we need and is giving us life experiences that are individually tailored for our growth and good, we won't be so quick to take credit when things are going smoothly and we'll be slower to doubt the Lord when things are difficult.

I think back to December 1996 when my family was moving to England. I was so excited about having our first British Christmas! We had sold our home in New Jersey, everything was packed, we were ready to go. Just a few days before we were scheduled to leave, the HR group at Jon's work came to him with bad news. Their department had made a mistake on the entry visa for the children and me, so we would not be able to go to England until it was sorted out, likely to take a couple of weeks. I was so disappointed! This was not the plan! Why this complication? What were we to do?

In the end we decided that the children and I would go stay with my parents in Memphis while the visa got straightened out.

Unbeknown to any of us here on earth--but I believe known by my loving Heavenly Father, my dad had just two weeks left to live. He died unexpectedly the night before we were finally scheduled to leave for the UK. That visa snafu enabled me to spend those last weeks of dad's life with him. I will be eternally grateful for that gift. This experience is one among many that has taught me that sometimes "complications" turn out to be blessings and to trust that the Lord is directing my life's journey.

And they're off!

2009-09-08T09:58:00.000-07:00

One to study abroad in Italy for three months:

One to her senior year and her last semester of high school:

One to 9th grade and his first semester of high school:

And one to 6th grade and her first year in middle school:

(No, I did not feed her strawberries and chocolate for breakfast. In our excitement to get to school, I forgot to get a photo of her as she was heading off. Boo hoo. I'll have to take one of her coming home!)

Oh, the happy memories of my own back-to-school days. I clearly remember the night before the beginning of 4th grade: Carla and I couldn't sleep with the excitement of going back to school. What we were going to wear? Who would be in our classes? Would we like our teachers? Eventually we wore ourselves out from bouncing up and down on our beds, squealing and being goofy.

It was a bit like that around here last night. Although no one ended up bouncing on their beds, there was a distinct feeling of excitement, even from my new high school freshman who claimed that going back to school was going to stink. (Okay, he actually used another word that also starts with an s and ends in a k, and Kelly Clarkson used it in a title of a song--don't get me started, but I'm the editor around here.)

For family home evening, we talked about goals for the school year and what the kids wanted to accomplish. I was impressed by their ideas. Among other things, Jessica set a goal of paying lots of attention and not giving up if something is hard. Clay set his sights on being a valedictorian and establishing strong work habits. Maddy wants to get all As as she finishes up high school.

Jon and I shared our expectations of the children as they interact with other students, teachers and staff. Things like having a high-level of integrity, respecting their teachers, turning in all assignments on time, looking out for kids who need a friend, etc.

We ended with Jon giving each of them a back-to-school father's blessing. How grateful I am to have a worthy priesthood holder in our home! (I always envied my friends whose dads would give them priesthood blessings.)

Our kids are really lucky to have two parents who love them, encourage them, and support them.

I recognize that there are millions of kids out there who don't have that kind of parental support.

That's one of the reasons I was thrilled to read President Obama's speech to the nation's school children today. What an inspired thing to do! His comments were perfect, encouraging yet at the same time holding kids accountable for their own education. I applaud him for making the effort to do this and wonder why other presidents haven't done it in the past. You don't have to agree with the president's political agenda to appreciate what he did today.

Here's wishing every American child a happy and successful school year!

If you haven't read it yet, you can read the president's entire speech here.

For the record: Here's Jess after her first day at middle school...she loved it!

Are you KIDDING me?

2009-08-20T12:48:00.000-07:00

The start of school is just around the corner (sniff, sniff).

And that means it's time to for school registration.

And that means I have to fill out the same gazillion forms that I've filled out every year for each of my kids.

This year in light of the California state budget problems I was really hoping the district would find a better, more efficient, more environmentally sound and less expensive way to register our students. Surely with today's advanced state of computer technology there is no need for long lines and a gazillion forms.

But no.

Today it took me nearly 2 hours to register Clay for high school.

What a bother.

And even worse, you need a small fortune to pay all of the fees.

At our public high school, it costs $70 to get a parking pass.

The yearbook is $90.

The student activity card is $80.

The cost to play a sport ranges from $400 to nearly $2000.

At middle school, the yearbook is $55.

You'd think that our annual $15,000+ property taxes would offset it somewhat.

I guess not.

Tell me, readers from other states, is it the same where you are?

More Adventures with McKelle

2009-08-13T15:05:00.000-07:00

Check this out:

Can you make out my incredibly smart, immensely capable, ridiculously determined and hard-working 19 year-old daughter using an electric drill as she installs her 173rd alarm system of the summer?

(Sorry. I know pride is to be avoided. But I can't help it. I'm just so proud of her!)

Last week I made an impromptu trip to Virginia to spend a few days with McKelle. She needed a bit of home, but her work obligation wasn't over yet. So I decided if she couldn't come home, I'd take home to her.

Here she is knocking on a wall to find its joist, something I saw my father do dozens and dozens of times in his work as an electrician when I was growing up:

(Somewhere I'm sure my dad is tickled and surprised by his granddaughter's adept handling of wires and drills and the various other tools of her summer trade! I was beyond impressed!)

After I went on several installs with her, I quickly understood why she's enjoyed her experiences in spite of all the sheet rock dust and sweat and occasional shocks from the telephone lines: Each day she meets such interesting people, from sweet old ladies with their accounts of children and grandchildren to Harley Davidson-loving couples with dogs that they baby. We spent time in the home of an army veteran who couldn't stop talking about her 15 year military service, and a true-blue through and through cat lady whose home was a virtual amusement park for her beloved felines.

This summer McKelle discovered that every person has a story.

Outside of her work we had a grand time together in Roanoke, where we were surprised to find a little touch of Europe in the midst of its formerly-dilapidated-transitioning-to-artsy downtown.

We explored the city's hip new art museum, where we were fascinated by some cool exhibits, including this one made from tape

and this one made from spools of thread.

We saw two movies ("Julie and Julia" which we loved and "500 Days of Summer" which we didn't), shared yummy treats (including an odd mix of fresh peaches and tootsie rolls), giggled over missionary letters from several of her freshman friends, discovered some distant relatives at church (an elderly couple who share our Haun's Mill McBride ancestors), and traded celebrity magazines (is Kati Holmes secretly expecting a sibling for Suri?) while we had pedicures.

(Can you guess whose foot is whose? She has her dad's toes...which for some reason always makes me smile!)

Best of all, we just had time to laugh and talk and talk and laugh and just be.

Together.

If You Give a Moose a Muffin...or something like that

2009-07-20T21:37:00.000-07:00

Never pick at your chipped toenail polish on a Saturday night.

Come Sunday morning if you happen to have a really bad hair day, you might decide to wear this

interesting skirt to church in an effort to draw attention away from your really bad hair.

And if the only shoes you have to match that interesting skirt happen to look like this,

then when you are dashing out the door in order to be on time to conduct the music in sacrament meeting, you will look down and discover that your toenail polish looks like this:

And then you will be left with three bad options.

1. Leave the polish as is.
2. Try to scrub off ALL the polish on ALL ten toes, and go au-natural. (Sounds a bit risque for church, don't you think?)
3. Use the red polish you have to touch up even though it is ten shades lighter than the color you were flaking off and doesn't blend well.

And because there is no time for option 2, you will be forced to go with option 3 and hope that no one notices your embarrassing patchwork-polished toes.

But when you do go with option 3, don't become distracted right before the sacrament song with thoughts of how you can simply keep your toes tucked under your chair in Sunday School and Relief Society when what you should be doing is looking over the music you are about to be conducting.

Because then you might stand up to lead the song and not notice the fermatas* at the end of every phrase.

Then while you're conducting you'll realize pretty quickly that you are woefully off beat and no matter how much you try to speed up or slow down you cannot get that down beat to match up with the first beat of each measure.

And while you are desperately trying to get the down beat right, you might just decide to end the song one verse early, before the congregation decides to stop singing.

And then you will be left with bad hair, embarrassing toenail polish, and a whole group of people at church whom you will never want to look in the eyes again.

Never pick at your chipped toenail polish on a Saturday night.

Just leave it alone.

*an element of musical notation indicating that the note should be sustained for longer than its note value would indicate, ie a pause

The Letter I'll Never Send

2009-07-18T14:01:00.000-07:00

Dear Man who lives across the street from my friend:

Let me begin by apologizing for making a u-turn in front of your home late last night. Honestly. Looking back I should have just turned around in the cul-de-sac down the street. I meant no harm when I turned my tires onto your driveway just a titch in order to make the u-turn. People on my street do it all the time, so I didn't fully grasp the severity of my action. Plus, it was late and no one was out. Except, it turns out, you and your two buddies. If you had only called the police like you threatened to do, I might know today whether or not the offense was as punishable as you inferred.

We've never met, and in the dark I really couldn't see you. But you didn't let the lack of an introduction nor the fact that I was a woman soften the tirade you hurled at me about my unforgivable u-turn. I admit I sometimes make mistakes when driving--occasionally I mess up the order at a four-way stop, for example. But in my 26 years of driving I've never been pulled over or given a ticket, so I thought I was a pretty good driver. Until last night, that is.

Your booming voice in the dark was as frightening as you intended, I'm sure. You'll be happy to know it shook me up pretty good. Repeatedly calling me a "whack job" and a disgrace to my family was perhaps a bit harsh. So was banning me from your street. Here I thought I was living in a family-friendly community, where hard-working, educated people treat each other with civility. Thanks for clearing that up.

I've been wracking my brain to understand what would make a person like yourself respond like you did over a simple u-turn, legal or no. My friend assures me that you were drunk, which of course clears it all up. I've long been a fan of the "he's drunk" excuse which covers all sorts of rotten things that happen in families and communities.

I'm guessing your friends must have been drunk, too, or else maybe they would have had the courage to stand up to you and help you understand that you were acting like a raging lunatic. But I guess bullies like you pretty much get to say and do whatever they like, in their homes and in their neighborhoods. Heaven help those who actually live with you. Especially, it would appear, when you are drunk.

Perhaps you would be happier on a few acres out in the country with a couple of pit bulls to protect your property from any miscreants like myself.

Once again, I apologize for making the u-turn in front of your home.

Believe me, I'll never make that mistake again.

Yours truly,

The Woman you might as well have kicked in the stomach last night

The Post where I try to catch up...

2009-07-15T11:05:00.000-07:00

I'm not gonna lie.

I've lost a bit of my blogging steam.

Mostly it's a time commitment issue. It's infinitely faster and less time-consuming to post a one sentence blurb on Facebook, so I've gotten a bit lazy about making myself sit down to articulate for this blog what I've been feeling and experiencing.

Plus an interesting blog post usually has great photos to go with it, and sadly, I'm not much of a picture taker. If I can't capture the moment with my iPhone, it's usually gone forever.

But I've had an amazing month since my last post and I want to share some of the emotion of it all. Here's a recap of what I've been feeling since early June:

Momma Pride: Clay received a special award at the end of the school year for earning straight A's during his three years at middle school. He's a remarkable young man, even if he does look down at me now that he's taller than I am.

STOP: Jessica officially "graduated" from elementary school. On the last day of school as we were leaving the building, we ran into her former 2nd grade teacher who gave Jessica a big hug. Seeing them together it was painfully apparent how much Jessica has grown since she was in Mrs. Sparrow's class. In that moment I was overcome with emotion. It's not just that Jessica is growing up, it's that a whole chapter of my life ended. For over 14 years I've been a mother of grade schoolers, and now its over. Just. Like. That.

Exhilaration: White-water rafting with Maddy et al at Girls Camp was--in a word--exhilarating! We slept out under the stars, swam rapids, jumped off cliffs into the river and mastered a slew of class 4 rapids in our raft! I felt a bit like Pocahontas and found myself singing "just around the riverbend" (only I couldn't remember any other words to the song except "just around the river bend beyond the shore" so I also kept breaking out with a few rounds of "shorty fire burning on the dance floor" which the girls and I had jammed to on the drive up...)

Complete: McKelle came home from Virginia for a few days in late June (she's working there this summer installing alarm systems) to attend the mission farewell of her "best friend" and to spend a few minutes with us. (haha, just kidding, McKelle) Sitting in sacrament meeting with Jon, I looked over and saw Clay and my three girls sitting side-by-side, and I felt an overwhelming sense of being complete. Whole. Content.

Helpless: When McKelle left on Sunday night, she was not feeling well. Somewhere during her red-eye flight back to Virginia, she came down with a full-on flu. (Possibly swine-flu, but we'll never know for sure.) By Tuesday she was as sick as she's ever been. I was thousands of miles away and couldn't do anything for her. Ugh.

Overjoyed: Landing in the Memphis airport with nearly two weeks to spend with my mom and Lee, my sisters and their families, I felt like a little girl on Christmas morning. Seeing my kids playing with their adorable cousins was just what I had hoped it would be--joy!

Amazed: While we were in Memphis, Maddy spent a day at a music studio there and recorded four of the songs she's written. My mom and I sat and watched Maddy at work and were both blown away by her professional ability. And her recordings sound amazing!

Surprised: Jon hasn't gone with us to Memphis for over five years. I've actually been fine with that, and in some ways it makes it easier on me to have one less personality to worry about while I'm there. But this time Jon joined us for an extended 4th of July weekend. I knew he was flying in, but I was surprised at how nice it was to have him there! Huge deposit into our relationship bank account.

Gratitude: As I drifted off to sleep after a practically perfect Fourth of July celebration--complete with a family BBQ, home fireworks and a late night swim in Nikki's terrific pool--I felt so grateful to be in a free country surrounded by my loved ones, with good health and all the things that truly matter in life.

Bliss: For nearly 10 years now, one summer tradition we look forward to every year is a trip to Lee's lake house in the Ozarks. It's heaven there: A beautiful, clear lake with water like glass that's just the right temperature, surrounded by lush greenery--ahhhh. We couldn't love it more. And it's our one chance a year to get our fill of water sports, from fishing and tubing to water skiing and cliff jumping. Lee is a trouper to put up with all of the noise and confusion of our family. Thanks, Lee!

Momentary frustration: Amidst all of the joy that is our annual Memphis trip, the reality is that it's still a family vacation which comes with its share of puzzling family dynamics...I always hope my kids will be on their best behavior and that they'll get along with their cousins without any little bumps along the way. But kids are kids and us grown-ups each have our own hangups, so inevitably stuff happens. C'est la vie, I suppose. But thankfully there were fewer bumps than laughs, so all-in-all we had a lovely visit.

Lazy: Summer means late night movies and sleeping in and reading all afternoon if I want to and sitting at the beach soaking up the air and sun. Lazy, lazy, lazy. In some ways I give myself over to it all, and in other ways I feel like a big BUM (especially because Jon is still slaving away all day and stressing over work). I'm hoping to organize all of my cupboards and drawers and then maybe I won't feel so guilty about all of the lounging...Ah, summer.

On this day 49 years ago...

2009-06-11T23:44:00.000-07:00

...these two wonderful people said "I do."

I'm so glad they did.

I love you, Mom and Dad!

A Thousand Swirling Thoughts...

2009-06-05T21:23:00.000-07:00

Every once in a while you stumble into a book that leaves you feeling like someone just knocked the breath out of you.

And afterward you aren't entirely sure if that is a good thing or a bad thing.

That's how I'm feeling today after finishing A Thousand Splendid Suns in the wee hours of the morning. (Whenever Jon's away on business I find myself staying up waaaayyyy too late reading.)

I'm still reeling from the whole experience.

If you haven't read it but it's on your list, just go into it knowing that the story is absolutely gripping. Gut-wrenching. Devastating. Haunting.

Unfortunately, it left me with some difficult feelings towards Muslim men. I've always been one to say that not all Muslims are terrorists, that I've interacted with a number of wonderful Muslim people in the course of my world travels, and that we shouldn't make stereotypes about Muslims. I still feel that way.

Yet after reading this story (written by an Afghan-American man whom I'm assuming was at least raised Muslim) I'm feeling incensed about the way the women were/are treated by factions of that religion. Admittedly, I don't know how much of the extreme chauvinism portrayed in the novel is universal and how much is individual. I recently finished "Three Cups of Tea" (which I highly recommend), a non-fiction book about this same region of the world, and it was clear to me from that book that women are truly considered second-class citizens by whole populations of Muslim fundamentalists. It's mind boggling, really.

I'm so curious to know if the author, Khaled Hosseini, knew that his book would leave people with such a negative view of Muslim men? I've been scouring online interviews with him in an attempt to see if he has ever addressed this issue. So far I've not found anything.

If you've read the book, I'd love to hear your impressions of the story, and to know if you had the same reaction as I did.

In the meantime, I'll be mulling and pondering over this book for days...

Why I can't wait for 1pm on Friday!

2009-06-05T00:57:00.000-07:00

She hasn't even been gone a week.

But things around here have just not been the same without her.

On Tuesday morning Jessica left home with her perfectly-packed suitcase that she had packed all by herself from the perfectly thought-out packing list she had written out several days ahead of time--complete with a little checkbox by each item she had planned to take with her--and headed off to 5th grade Science Camp.

More than any of my other children, Jessica has been blessed with Jon's ability to organize and work until the job is finished, whether that job is changing her beloved hamster's cage (which she does faithfully and independently every week), rearranging her bedroom furniture (which she did last week all by herself -- removed the mattress from her bed, dragged her heavy bed where she wanted it, her dresser and nightstand, too) or cleaning out the refrigerator (she's the absolute best at that job!). Her tenacity and work ethic are astounding in a girl who's just barely eleven.

But what I've missed most while she's been at camp is the sweet presence she brings to our home. She's like sunshine around here, and oh, how I've missed her light.

Her bus will be rolling in around 1:00 today.

I can hardly wait!

Forget Kris and Adam, even Ginger and Marianne...the real debate

2009-05-31T21:38:00.000-07:00

Now that we are happily over the Kris/Adam debate, we can move on to more pressing questions.

Like what is the fragrance of heaven?

As a little girl growing up in Utah, I thought lilacs were truly the most divinely-fragranced flowers on the planet. To this day a whiff of lilacs takes me back to my childhood, conjuring up happy memories of my mom and my Grandma Hammons (both of whom loved to cut fresh stems of lilac and place them in random jars on the kitchen table), as well as my home in Garland where I spent my teen years. We had huge lilac bushes lining one side of the driveway, and when the blossoms were fully-bloomed and fragrant, I could close my eyes and convince myself I'd died and gone to heaven. (Which was exactly what I sometimes wished I could have done in high school, but who didn't?)

It was only in my 30s when I lived in Singapore that I encountered another flowering plant whose fragrance could even compete--jasmine. Walking from our first home there to Holland Road, a nearby shopping area, I passed walls covered with the delicate, white star-shaped jasmine blossoms, which would literally take my breath away.

If lilacs are the symbol of my happy childhood memories, jasmines have come to represent some of the most sunny (literally) and most joyful parts of my adulthood. How lucky for me to discover that southern California is literally awash in jasmine! At every turn I seem to stumble upon its intoxicating fragrance.

Last week I had an honest-to-goodness Ferdinand moment. Remember that children's story about the ferocious bull who becomes as gentle as a lamb whenever he smells a certain flowery fragrance? Burdened by a laundry-list of errands and rushing about with fierce determination to get everything done on Tuesday, I was unexpectedly overcome by a warm, jasmine-scented wind, and suddenly all the stress of what I needed to accomplish melted away. I just stood there, basking in that heavenly aroma. Sigh.

So what do you think? Will heaven be lilacs or jasmine?

Dishing on American Idol

2009-05-19T21:54:00.000-07:00

So a week ago I promised my FB friends that I would post about my adventure at last Tuesday's live taping of American Idol.

I'm slow.

As always, it was super fun and a bit surreal to be there and see in person the people we watch on TV each week.

Off-camera the judges are pretty much what you see on TV except with bodyguards hovering around them--Randy comes across as uber-cool and friendly, Kara seems hip and sleek (she stood beside me at one point and I got to talk to her for a sec--she's rail thin), Paula is personable and warm, and Simon, well, he's the same disinterested person in person that he seems to be on the show. I doubt he even knows this season's contestants names. Seriously. After seeing him up close, my friend's daughter (who is also my daughter's friend) decided that Simon looks like a bobble-head toy. In person he's got a really big head and a small body. I thought that was hysterical!

I was sitting directly across the aisle from Simon's former girlfriend, Terri Seymour of E!, and at some point each of the judges (except Simon) came down and talked to her, which meant they were just a few feet away from me. That was fun.

The highlight was of course seeing the contestants' live performances. Oh, and the big fat kiss that Adam laid on Ryan!

As much as Adam creeps me out at times when he's singing, I will say he did take full command of the stage. He's a big guy (really tall) with a big personality. And he seems like a genuinely nice person aside from the tongue-sticking-out-screaming he does in every performance. I can't get past the creepy part, so he was just "aw-right" for me. (And I was just kidding about the Adam-Ryan kiss.)

Danny's best song by far was "You are So Beautiful" and in person he nearly brought me to tears. But like Quinn said, on stage Danny comes off like someone's brother-in-law who can sing. (Which is funny because Quinn is MY brother-in-law and he sings!) Even though I thought it could go either way, I wasn't surprised that Danny went home. If the live audience were a sample of the general voting public, Danny wasn't as popular as the other two.

By now you probably know that I'm a huge Kris fan. I had a chance to shake his dad's hand and tell him how much I adore his son. Er, his son's music. In person Kris did not disappoint. I liked "Apologize" much better than the judges seemed to, but Kris literally brought down the house with "Heartless." Even so, I had the sense that he thought it was the end of the road for him, so I whooped and hollered every chance I got! (On TIVO you can hear me cheering!) I bought the live video of "Heartless" on iTunes, and at one point you can see Maddy and at another point you can see me in the audience. So fun!

For me, the charm of American Idol is that a truly undiscovered talent gets a shot at the big leagues. Like a farm-girl from Oklahoma, for example. Kris fits that perfectly. He's a real boy next door who has a boat-load of talent. Adam has been a professional singer for a while now, which seems a bit counter to what the show is about. I'm wondering if every Broadway star who wants to become ultra-famous will audition for this show now. If so, it will lose it's appeal for me.

I found tonight's finale a bit blase. It wasn't as exciting as last year's showdown between David and David. I don't know why. Maybe because these two finalists are so completely different that it doesn't seem possible to compare them. I loved Kris' performance on "Ain't No Sunshine" and I liked his "What's Goin' On." I did not like the last song at all; it was totally out of his range. Adam did what he always does, so if you like him you would love his performances. But he just doesn't do anything for me.

Maddy hopes Kris doesn't win; she thinks he'll have more control to make an amazing CD if he isn't saddled with the show's record deal. I don't know. I kinda hope he wins. I love a good 'underdog wins' story. Plus I love his music. Plus he's adorable.

Who did you vote for? What was your take on this season?

Blessed Part 2

2009-05-10T22:37:00.000-07:00

There were years when I dreaded Mothers' Day.

When my children were little, and if my hormones were just aligned, Mothers' Day could be an absolute guilt-fest. Each homemade card with its "You're the best mom in the whole world!" declaration pummeled my heart.

How my children could find me deserving of such praise when I had a clear mental tally of dozens of impatient moments and immature overreactions to prove otherwise was beyond me.

One Mothers' Day I even had to slip out of sacrament meeting early to go outside and have a good crying jag. How I buckled under all of those feelings of inadequacy and failure.

Thankfully most of that is behind me now. I hope it's a sign that I'm maturing and have learned to cut myself some slack. Or maybe it's just that my children are older now and we have fewer melt-downs around here. But today I sat in church listening to all of the sweet sentiments expressed, including a talk by my own son, and didn't feel like a fraud.

That's progress.

Highlights from Mother's Day 2009

Waking up and snuggling with Jon, who whispered how grateful he is
that I am the mother of his children.
Hearing Clay give the talk in sacrament meeting that he wrote and in which he said he realized he depends on me 24/7.
Watching Jessica sing in the Primary Mothers' Day musical number
for her very last time.
Opening the gift Jessica spent hours and hours working on--a scrapbook and collection of poems she'd written for me.
Unwrapping a little blue box from Jon.
Talking and laughing with McKelle over the phone, hearing how much she missed us.
Maddy's declaration that I'm her best friend.
Hearing my mom's emotion and appreciation for the Mothers' Day book we created for her.
Talking with Jon's mom on the phone.
Using my Mothers' Day trump card to get all of my kids to go with Jon and me on our Sunday walk/hike.
Feeling Loved. Appreciated. Blessed.

Blessed

2009-05-09T23:37:00.001-07:00

Circa 1966, Murray, Utah

As I've gotten older I've come to realize that one of the richest blessings in life is a happy childhood.

Circa 1976 Disneyland
(Notice the scabs on my face--from diving in the shallow end of our neighborhood pool)

And I had a childhood filled with happiness and love, which I owe in large part to my remarkable mother. How I got lucky enough to be her daughter, I will never know.

Circa 2006 - At long last celebrating my 1988 BYU graduation

She may not be perfect, but she loves perfectly.

What else truly matters?

Circa 2008 - Mom's been a stunning beauty her whole life!

Happy Mother's Day, Mom!!

Inspired

2009-05-04T18:04:00.000-07:00

Sometimes it seems impossible to make a difference in this crazy world of ours.

With all of the suffering, deprivation, abuse, isolation, and poverty in the world, at times I find it overwhelming to even think about. It's much easier to simply live my life in my own little safe part of the world and pretend there are not starving and orphaned children out there, even though I have seen some of them with my own eyes.

Last night I had the opportunity to hear an amazing woman speak who is proof that one person can make a difference.

Nearly 10 years ago Becky Douglas was a homemaker and mother of seven biological children and two adopted Lithuanian children (one of whom was a paraplegic) when she received heart-breaking news. Her oldest daughter, who had long suffered from bi-polar disorder, committed suicide while a freshman at university. When Becky and her husband flew out to the school to gather their daughter's belongings, they discovered that Amber had been using a portion of her school allowance to sponsor an orphan in India. In lieu of flowers for the funeral, the Douglas's asked their friends and family to make donations to the orphanage instead. Becky then flew to India to deliver the money and visit the orphanage.

When Becky returned from India, she couldn't sleep at night. It wasn't the orphanage that was haunting her. To Becky's surprise, the orphanage was actually running quite smoothly. The children seemed well-cared for and happy. What haunted her were the memories of the leprosy sufferers who would crawl up to her car on all fours, most of them on limbs that were mere stumps, begging for food. In India, lepers are considered lower than dogs in the social order of life. Lepers are outcasts, believed to be cursed of God.

Becky finally decided she had to do something. But she was only one person, one person who knew literally nothing about charitable organizations or medicine or lepers. She invited three of her friends to join her and together they founded Rising Star Outreach.

In just over 9 years, this little outreach has helped hundreds of leprosy patients in amazing ways. At first they simply delivered rice and beans each month to some of the leper colonies, but soon Becky realized that even though these people were starving, they needed something much more than food: They needed a way to take ownership for their lives and circumstances.

Rising Star then began a partnership with an Indian woman who is the daughter of a former president of India, with a mission of giving out micro-loans (US$5-20) to the leprosy patients, enabling these castaways to begin simple enterprises, like ironing, or sewing, carpentry or farming. Even with their gnarled fingers and paralyzed hands, some of the leprosy patients began painting and others raising chickens. The colonies where these enterprises have begun have been absolutely transformed. Dignity and hope prevail where despair and shame once thrived.

Recently Rising Star has opened a school for leprosy children, some of whom have been cured of leprosy, others of whom simply have parents who are lepers. The school is simply astounding.

All of this because one woman took action.

Interestingly enough, the point of Becky's presentation last night was not to elicit money for her organization or to recruit volunteers, although both are obviously needed.

Her message was to help those in attendance understand that we don't have to do something huge to make a difference. Each of us can be the change we want to see in the world right in our own communities and families.

We just have to take action.

As Mother Theresa said, "We can do no great things, only small things with great love."

http://www.risingstaroutreach.org/

The Book Thief Online Discussion

2009-04-29T08:44:00.000-07:00

I know you've all been looking forward to sharing your thoughts and feelings about The Book Thief, so I apologize that the April 16 date came and went. Good thing there's no interest and penalty associated with the late filing of these questions! (Speaking of taxes, can I digress here to give a shout out to Nikki for the amazing job she did on my taxes? She's a genius!)

Now back to the book.

I loved this story. It just may be in my top ten favorite books. Or at least top twenty. But I know that not everyone has the same reaction. So in the comments, tell us first how you reacted generally to the story.

Did you like Death as the narrator right away or did it take some getting used to?

Next tell us who your favorite character was and why.

Share any new bits of knowledge/insight about the Nazis/Germans/ Holocaust that you gained from the book.

Tell how your feelings about Death changed after reading the book.

Share a favorite passage and tell why you loved it.

Last, what made you cry?

Overheard

2009-04-24T08:20:00.000-07:00

It wasn't exactly eavesdropping.

McKelle and I couldn't help but hear the conversation between the two burly, heavily-tattooed guys waiting in the medical lab next to us.

Both had deep, loudish voices, and they sounded like they stepped straight out of a comedy sketch about two biker dudes who were a few cards shy of a full-deck.

Biker Dude #1: "I took her to Disneyland last week, and Dude, she didn't even care."

BD #2: "I'm not surprised, man."

BD #1: "She's like the most ungrateful #@*&%* I ever met."

BD #2: "I'm not surprised, man. I didn't think it was a good idea when you said she was moving in."

BD #1: "I know, Dude, I should've known it wasn't a good idea. Like when she called the cops on my brother for NO REASON! Dude, I should've known it wasn't a good idea."

BD #2: "I'm not surprised, man."

BD #1: "Or when her ex-boyfriend tried to run over my brother. Dude, I should've known it wasn't gonna work."

BD#2: "I'm not surprised, man."

BD #1: "And then she called the cops on me when SHE was the one slapping ME! I go to jail when SHE's the felon! Like, Dude, she just got caught robbing Target last week!"

BD #2: "I'm not surprised, man."

At this point in the conversation, I sneaked a peek at McKelle, who was fighting back the giggles. Seeing her pursed lips, I burst out laughing. Then she came undone, too.

One thing you don't want is for two burly, heavily-tattooed biker dudes to think you are laughing at them.

So, thinking fast, I thrust my iPhone at McKelle and said loudly, "That is the funniest picture ever! I thought I would die when you guys took that one!"

We sat there laughing until tears were practically streaming down our cheeks. The more we tried to stop, the more we couldn't help ourselves.

At long last the nurse called our names and we left the waiting room.

And, Dude, the two burly, heavily-tattooed guys never caught on.

I'm not surprised, man.

Guns and Poses

2009-04-21T09:48:00.000-07:00

When my first and (as it turned out) only son was born, I looked into his little infant face and said, "NO GUNS."

That meant no toy guns, no video games with guns, no guns that shoot anything. No guns.

When Clay was about five, we were visiting my Uncle Dan who was a police chief at that time. While we were there Dan decided to clean his gun and asked Clay if he would like to watch. Clay was all wide-eyed with wonder, and sat there spell-bound.

That is until he picked up Dan's gun and began waving it around, making gun shot noises.

Dan almost had a heart attack right then and there.

Me? I felt like I was having an out of body experience.

The gun wasn't loaded, of course. But still.

So how did that mom become the mom of this nearly fourteen year-old boy?
Can I just say for the record that it didn't happen all at once.

It was more of a gradual sort of caving.

First a harmless spring-loaded airsoft pistol. Then a spring-loaded airsoft rifle. Next an automatic airsoft rifle. The final blow was the purchase of Call of Duty 5, the video game that puts the players in the shoes of World War II soldiers. And, yes, they shoot the enemies.

My girls are beside themselves. They think I've lost my mind.

I have my justifications. Sound-ish ones.

But now I'm wondering if I've made a BIG mistake.

Today is garbage pick up day. As I pulled up to my driveway after dropping Jessica off at school this morning, I noticed that a large crow was trying to get into our garbage cans on the curb. (We had a furniture delivery this past week and have packaging materials coming out the wazoo. Thus the over-filled trash cans.)

And because I was still in my pajamas (okay, I confess that I'm one of those moms who drives her kids to school in her jammies) I went inside the house and told Clay about the crow getting into the trash. I was going to ask him to take the two bags that were preventing the lid from closing all the way and put them in a neighbor's bin.

But before I could get to the part about the neighbor's bin, Clay's eyes lit up and he asked, "You want me to shoot the crow???!!"

Oh, my.

What have I done?

Gumby and Me

2009-04-18T19:14:00.000-07:00

Remember Gumby? Funny guy, that Gumby. Grab an arm, a leg, or both arms and both legs, and pull. He seems to stretch for miles. And no matter how hard he is pulled or in however many directions, somehow he simply snaps back into shape afterward. All the while with a smile on his little green face.

On our family vacation last week, I realized that me and Gumby are an awful lot alike. Apart from the green perpetually-smiling face, of course.

As a wife and mother to four, being pulled in multiple directions is nothing new. I'm used to it. Trying to keep everybody happy and attended to is just part of the job description of being the mom.

But nothing exposes the angst of all that pulling and stretching quite like a family vacation.

For spring break we took the kids to Washington DC. It was honestly a nearly perfect trip. We've been there multiple times before to see Jon's parents, but our last visit there was over six years ago. This time it was a full on site-seeing extravaganza, and I'm not gonna lie, I'm an unrelentingly enthusiastic tour guide. There was so much I couldn't wait for the kids to see now that they are old enough to appreciate it all.

But being the personal tour director for five people can be, at times, tricky business. For example, one morning I had time in our schedule to explore the Smithsonians. Clay wanted to see the Air & Space museum, Jessica had her heart set on the Natural History museum, while McKelle really hoped to go to the art gallery. (Thankfully child number two had no preference.) Hmm. How to enable them all to get their hearts' desires? Split up? Spend 45 minutes in each museum? Or choose one museum and accept that two of the kids would, heaven forbid, be denied something?

Then there was the mediating of little interpersonal conflicts. Talk about being pulled in differing directions. Even though overall the kids got along remarkably well, in the course of a week-long vacation there is always ample opportunity to find myself caught between any one of the kids and any one of the other kids. Not to mention between Jon and the kids. Here's just one scenario: Clay playfully throws a cherry blossom bud at Jessie. It hits her in the face. She storms off because she feels like he is constantly teasing her. He feels annoyed that she overreacts to every little thing. I see both sides. Go ahead, folks. Grab an arm and pull.

Oh, and how to give everyone my undivided attention? One night my college girl really wanted to talk to me about life and school and future plans. I love those late-night chats. But after an hour and a half of giving McKelle my full and utter attention, Maddy came in, anxious to share what she had been researching that night about Darfur for a school project. I wanted to keep talking with McKelle. But I also wanted to support/encourage Maddy in her research. Then Jessica came in, hoping to join the party. Her older sister wanted none of that. And I knew that Jon was somewhere in the house waiting for me to come to bed.

Right about then it felt as if every limb was being pulled in a different direction. In my heart I wanted to make everyone happy, but to give any one person my full attention in that moment was to disappoint someone else.

Gumby, I feel your pain. I really do.

Victory! Victory!

2009-04-12T16:19:00.000-07:00

I have felt the cold hand of death. I have seen it face-to-face.

In 1996 I knelt beside my father after he had been pronounced dead-on-arrival in the hospital's ER. Seeing his cold, lifeless body lying there, I begged death to let him go, to let him return to us. "Come back," I found myself saying, over and over again. He had only recently celebrated his 56 birthday. How could he be snatched away, just like that? There was the hair I loved to stroke, the feet I loved to massage, the big hands I loved to hold. And yet...he was gone.

Six years later I met death face-to-face at my Grandma Hammons' bedside as she lay dying. Just weeks before I got there to say good-bye, she had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer at the age of 91. By the time I arrived she hadn't eaten in over 20 days. Her body was literally skin and bones. With two daughters, a niece, and a grand-daughter beside her, she fought with death--not to overcome it but to give in and let go. When her spirit at last left her body, I watched the transition between life and death with both awe and horror.

If death were the victor then those experiences marked the end of existence for my dad and my grandmother. What an inescapable tragedy that would be!

But one thing I believe beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Life is eternal.

Though each of us will someday die, we will yet live again.

Christ's resurrection is proof. Dozens of people saw Jesus Christ after he rose triumphantly from the tomb. Real people. Men and women. They felt the nail prints in his hands. They saw him eat fish. They witnessed that he had a body of flesh and bones. He had literally conquered death.

Words cannot express the depth of gratitude I feel for that glorious feat.

"That Easter morn the heavens sang
And all the earth joined in refrain
Now all who die shall live again!"*

Happy Easter!

*An additional verse written by Brett Stewart to the LDS hymn "That Easter Morn"

Wish I Had Written This...

2009-03-17T23:31:00.000-07:00

...because it's oh so insightful. And it's perfect writing. From one of my favorite blogs. http://mentaltesserae.blogspot.com/2009/03/man-with-newspaper.html

Read it and tell me if you can relate.

Tell Me Why...

2009-03-13T17:30:00.000-07:00

...I love these so?

Is it the crunchy chocolate outer shell?
Or is it the melt-in-my-mouth malted goodness?
Or could it be the blue tinge to my lips after eating a few?
I don't know.
Do you?

Online Bookgroup--Next Up

2009-03-10T22:02:00.000-07:00

Early in January my niece Sheriece started our first ever online bookgroup. I loved the book she chose, Unaccustomed Earth. The collection of Indian-flavored short stories was the perfect companion to Slumdog Millionaire, which I also really loved. (Yes, I bent my hard and fast no rated R rule, but it was a good decision.)

Now it is my turn to choose the next book.

I pick....(drumroll, please).....The Book Thief, by Markus Zusak. (Oh, wait. I guess the picture already gave it away. Whatever.) I can't begin to describe how this book has gripped my heart. Maddy just finished it a week or two ago, and she cried for 45 minutes when it ended. It's sad, yes, but triumphant and heart warming and endearing.

The story takes place in Germany during World War II, which seems to be a recurring theme for me right now. I'm fascinated by that period of history. It is a bit quirky in the beginning, but just hang in there and you will be in for one of your favorite books. Ever.

Let's set a date to finish by April 16. (Sorry, Nikki, I figure there wasn't much hope of your being able to participate this time around.) Then I'll post questions that we can all discuss.

Can't wait for you to read it!

Parental Guidance Recommended

2009-03-04T14:02:00.000-08:00

I'm curious.

How did you learn about sex?

Were you one of the 25% of people who had The Talk with your parents when you were growing up?

Or were you left to figure out the birds and the bees on your own?

This week one of my favorite writers at Blog Segullah posted an interesting piece on how we successfully and unsuccessfully teach children about sex.

So I've been thinking about how I've done in that department and wondering if I've helped or hindered my kids in their conceptualization of intimacy. (If only I could see my kids' faces when they read this post, I would have my answer.)

I remember a visit at my Aunt Sherie's house years ago when my kids were really little. Somehow this aunt (whom I practically worshipped) got onto the topic of how important it is to ensure that children feel comfortable talking with their parents about sex. Just then her 17 year-old son walked by, and Sherie said, "So, Jake, what do you think about sex?" He was like "Oh, Mom." But it was playful and they were both fine with it. I've never forgotten that.

I want my children to feel comfortable talking to me and to feel comfortable talking to them, but it's hard to judge how successful I've been.

One of my kids seems to have an innate comfort level about it all. This is the child that at age 9 was helping me make my bed one day and discovered my undergarments in the sheets. Instead of running out shrieking as I probably would have done at her age, she started to laugh and asked, "Was someone being naughty last night??" Talk about a healthy attitude! She is curious by nature, and every once in a while she asks me a random question or two about it all. I'm glad that she at least feels at ease.

But two of my kids are more like me when I was young. Growing up, I thought sex was yucky. I didn't want to think about my parents in that way (who does?) and therefore I did not want to talk to my mom about it. To her credit, she was open about sex and answered my occasional questions, even though I usually ran from the room saying "EW, GROSS" or "I'M NEVER GOING TO DO THAT" when I heard her answers.

One of my kids is somewhere in the middle. He's not grossed out, but he's not asking questions either. I think it may be more difficult for boys to sort it all out because they are constantly bombarded by a skewed image of what role sex plays in our lives. I've really tried to teach Clay that although the world makes it seem like sex is all there is to life, sex is only one part--albeit an important and healthy part--of relationships.

Thankfully my childhood misconceptions haven't negatively impacted my sexuality. Jon and I have a fulfilling and happy sex life. (Sorry, kids.) (Actually, I'm not sorry, kids.)

And even though I still don't prefer to talk to my mom about sex (just writing it makes me wanna say "ew, gross"), I have two girlfriends that I can talk to about anything and everything, and we've answered each other's deepest and most awkward questions without embarrassment. In my opinion, everyone needs someone they can talk to like that.

So hopefully the kids in my family who are disgusted by the idea of talking to me about sex will have a friend they can talk to when they grow up.

Or a sister.

I know one who would take it in stride.

So They Sprinkled Moon Dust in Your Hair and Golden Starlight in Your Eyes of Blue

2009-02-22T10:54:00.000-08:00

When I was a young girl and would daydream about my future children, I always envisioned a house full of boys. Having grown up in a family of five girls, I planned to have sons.

When we were expecting our first baby, Jon and I marched into our first ultrasound determined to find out our baby's gender. But when the technician told us she couldn't get a good look, we went home and decided we didn't want to know in advance after all. Let's be surprised, we said. However, nineteen years ago tonight if you had asked me to put money on it, I would have guessed it was going to be a boy.

That's why it's odd that at the moment of delivery on February 22 when Jon said "It's a boy!" the first thought that popped into my mind was "He's going to say he was mistaken." I had never heard of anyone pronouncing one gender and then correcting it. I have no idea how I somehow knew at the moment of the baby's birth that it was a girl. But I did. And she was.

From the moment of her arrival all those years ago, that little bright-eyed baby girl exponentially upped the joy factor in my life. Words cannot capture how grateful I am for McKelle!

We should have spelled her middle name F-U-N because that's what it's been to have her as our daughter.

If there is anyone on earth who can make simple things like a trip to a park or a visit to the beach more of an adventure, I'd like to know.

If there is anyone who can bring more imagination to any situation, I'd be surprised.

If there is anyone who can lose more things and then find them, I'd be shocked. (I know that season ski pass will show up somehow, Missy.)

If there is any college freshman with more pure determination to make a success out of her life, I'd be amazed.

There is never a dull moment when McKelle is around.

And when she's not, life just isn't the same.

Happy Birthday, McKelle.

I'm so glad you're my little girl.

It Never Rains in California, But Girl, Let me Warn Ya...

2009-02-13T09:05:00.000-08:00

An OC Spring vacation gone rainy, circa 2005

I need all of you to close your eyes really quickly and ask God and the Universe to send a little sunshine and warmth to the OC today.

I know it sounds a little greedy of me, considering that sunshine and warmth is what we have around here 99% of the time, but a cold and rainy spell hit about 10 days ago, and it doesn't look like it's ending any time soon.

Normally I love the chilly weather (break out the cocoa and quilts and old movies), and the rain is always welcome in a land of perpetually parched earth.

Just not when my sister Carla is flying in for a few days of reprieve from the frigid Utah temps...

When we planned her trip a few weeks ago, I was thinking beach trips and hikes and long bicycle rides...now we may have to have an all-indoor weekend, unless we buy some rain ponchos to put over our coats for a shivering walk along the beach, or break out the rubber boots for a hike in the mud.

And while I know that she's really coming to spend time with me, warm weather or no, still I wanted to share a little bit of California sunshine.

Is that so much to ask?

Blindsided

2009-02-04T16:43:00.000-08:00

I should have seen it coming.

But I didn't.

A couple of weeks ago I signed up to go on a field trip with Jessica's 5th grade class to the Ocean Institute at Dana Point. I thought she'd be so excited!

But she wasn't.

"Mom, did you really sign up to go on my field trip?" she asked me one day.

"Yeah! Won't that be fun?" I replied.

"Our teacher said it's going to be really boring...are you sure you wanna go? You don't have to go if you don't want to."

"No, I'm really looking forward to it." I still didn't catch on to what she was saying.

I didn't catch on in fact until the morning of the field trip.

"Mom, you don't mind if I go sit in the back of the bus with my friends, right?"

"Oh, okay, sure, no problem." I watched her walk to the back of the bus and wondered what happened to that little girl who would beg me to go on field trips with her, the little girl who wouldn't leave my side or let go of my hand when I did get to go with her.

The rest of the trip was pretty much me watching her from a distance. Sure, occasionally she'd look over at me and smile, and we eventually shared a lunch together. But it felt like I was watching the door to a cherished part of my motherhood closing, the part that for 13 years has included countless Back to School nites and parent teacher conferences, Halloween parades and show-n-tells. Come June when Jessica finishes 5th grade, that door will be closed for good.

As we were heading back to the bus, I asked her if we could get a picture together. I so needed one last little memento. Jessie was embarrassed (oh, mom!), but she finally conceded.

She looks so grown up, don't you think? Like a little girl who is just about ready for middle school.

I should have seen it coming.

Eight Tag

2009-02-01T18:22:00.000-08:00

Okay, so I know some of you have been waiting with bated breath (not) for my promised 8 Things post. I was first tagged by my darling niece-in-law Katie and from there it kinda snowballed. I'm not a fan of blog tag, as you know, but I really did enjoy reading all of the posts that came from this round of tag. It's fun to discover shared favorites.

So here goes:

8 Favorite TV Shows: (I decided to list only those series that I would watch over on dvd; they're not in any particular order.)
1-Frasier
2-Lost
3-Brothers & Sisters (Sally Field makes me cry every episode; she's such a mom's mom)
4-West Wing
5-Carol Burnett Show
6-M*A*S*H
7-Once & Again
8-Hogan's Heroes

Funny how American Idol isn't on that list...you all know I love the show, but I would never want to rewatch a season on dvd, so it didn't make the cut.

8 Things I Did Yesterday:
1-Took Clay to baseball practice
2-Went on a 3 mile walk with Jon
3-Led the youth at our ward's roadshow practice in singing the finale number
4-Shopped at Trader Joes
5-Enjoyed a two hour whale/dolphin watch out on the ocean
6-Stopped for a Dairy Queen blizzard with Jon and Barb
7-Went on a date with Jon to Disneyland where we played Midway Mania (my new favorite ride)
8-Slurped (literally) Japanese noodles and had sushi with Jon at Fukado (my new favorite Japanese restaurant)

8 Things I'm Looking Forward to: (in the next few months)
1-The first meeting for my new bookgroup on Feb. 10
2-Carla's visit over President's Day weekend
3-Going away with Jon to Whistler at the end of February
4-Getting Clay's SAT scores back
5-Visiting DC and Grandpa Coleman as a family for Spring Break
6-Making actual progress on my writing projects

7-Finding out what McKelle is going to do this summer--Alaska? Provo? DC?

8-Finalizing our family's summer plans

8 Favorite Restaurants:

1-Fukado (surprise, surprise)

2-Cafe Rio (when you only get it a couple times a year, you dream about it)

3-Yang Chow (best Chinese in LA's chinatown)

4-California Pizza Kitchen

5-El Chollo

6-Pad Thai

7-Fattys (in Singapore)

8-Rascals (in Brazil)

8 Things I Wish For:

1-Ability to visit my mom and sisters and McKelle whenever I want

2-Completing one of my writing projects

3-Clay and Jessica to become better friends

4-Deeper connection with my family

5-Jon could be in two places at one time

6-Greater ability to listen to the Spirit's promptings

7-My mother-in-law's memory loss would slow down, or heck, DISAPPEAR (we can wish, can't we)

8-Family and friends could have their hearts' desires

8 Favorite Treats:

1-Pita bread and hummus

2-Chips, salsa, and guacamole

3-Brownies, the fudgy and chewy kind

4-Homemade bread, warm, with butter and honey

5-Orange rolls

6-Red Vines licorice

7-Peanut m&ms

8-graham crackers and frosting

9-Rice Krispies treats (oops, there were only supposed to be 8...)

Even Deeper

2009-01-26T17:33:00.000-08:00

So it sounds like I kinda threw some of you with my last post. Especially my mom. "I read your last post...uh...are you all right?" she asked in her most worried tone of voice. Hmmm. Who knew that a girl can't share deep thoughts without causing general concern amongst her peeps?

Just to clarify, that post was the result of my contemplating how much talk there is in the scriptures about our hearts. Seems like the condition of our heart is THE true reflection of who we are, at least according to my reading. That idea (one that I have pondered time and time again) made me wonder what I would find if I could look inside my heart. After some heartfelt thought (couldn't resist), I realized that there is a lot lingering there that I wish I could truly and completely let go of. You know. Purge. Send packing. Be done with forever. ANYway....

While we're on the topic of deep thinking...
DID YOU LOVE "LOST" OR WHAT???

I had just recently picked up a copy of Stephen Hawking's "The Universe in a Nutshell" (don't let the name fool you) and have been trying to wrap my head around his "in a nutshell" explanation of the spacetime continuum. He and many other leading physicists believe that time travel may be feasible, based on the curvature of space and time and Einstein's theory of relativity. (Or maybe that is Einstein's theory of relativity. I'm still sorting it out.) Anyway, with all of that swirling around in my mind, I found the "LOST" storyline all the more intriguing. I can't wait to see how the season unfolds.

What do you think? Will time travel ever happen? What time would you visit if you could?

BTW I have now been triple tagged for the 8 Things thing, so I guess I will give in and play along. I do find everyone's favorite TV show lists very interesting...I'm beginning to think I live on a different planet than the rest of you. Some of these shows I've never even heard of...

Change of Heart

2009-01-18T20:39:00.000-08:00

If I could give my heart to the Lord and He could hold it in his hands, I wonder what miracles He could work...

Could He soften away all the hardened crevices, where offenses big and little linger, offenses that I thought I’d forgiven then resurface like vexatious weeds in moments of weakness, suffocating the loving feelings I’ve labored to cultivate?

Could He fling open wide the closed-off chambers which at times barricade me from others—my family, friends and neighbors—the very people I want to love openly and whole-heartedly?

Could He resurrect the spaces where sin has exacted its toll, where darkness lurks?

Could his touch release me from envy’s vise and cast out all covetous feelings, those clouds that threaten to obscure the clarity of gratitude I long to keep firmly in my focus?

Could He free me from the fits of petulance and impatience that I am prone to throw?

Could He fill my heart with his love, that charity the scriptures speak of which is everlasting, unconditional, powerful—unlike the love I offer, weak and wavering, often based on conditions that neither I nor my dear ones can meet?

Could He dissolve the frivolous and worldly claims on my attention, distractions that are of such little worth?

Could He heal the bruises that I inflict upon my heart when I fail to measure up to my expectations and my ideals? Could He possibly fill me with a measure of compassion for myself with an equal and accompanying portion of peace?

Would my heart come back to me free of the defects that have so long beset me—the tendency to take offense, to feel what is not intended, to see what is not there, to regret what cannot be changed, to be discontent in the moment I’m living.

If I only I could give my heart to the Lord.

But He would only take it

if it were good

and broken.

Trumping American Idol

2009-01-15T09:05:00.000-08:00

I've been looking forward to this week since last May.

When one season of American Idol ends, I can hardly wait for the next season to begin. (I'm a loser, I know.)

But there's something happening tomorrow that I'm even more excited about than American Idol.

NieNie is coming back. Making her comeback. Starting tomorrow, she's going to be blogging again. And I'm counting down the hours.

She's a dear friend who doesn't even know me. Even still, I'm so so proud of you, Stephanie.

You're gonna shine. I just know it.

Good Things Come in Heavy-ish Packages

2009-01-06T12:53:00.000-08:00

Some people think a book is a pretty boring gift.

Not me.

In my mind, a book is not just a book, it's an experience. That's why books are some of my favorite gifts to give. And to receive.

I got a couple of great experiences for Christmas!

So even though I VOWED today that I would sort and handle and file every last piece of paper in the MILE HIGH stack of papers on my desk, er, spilling onto my floor (is that really a notice that I didn't pay the water bill in December?), here I am blogging. About books.

"The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society" may not be the most intriguing title for a book, but don't hold that against it. It's an absolutely lovely story with characters that you will simply fall in love with. And although World War II and the Nazi occupation of Guernsey is the background story, there is a sweetness and charm about the book that is captivating. I've been pondering for days about how to cultivate the low key and pastoral life that my new found Guernsey friends enjoy. Thank you, Gayann, for such a delightful experience.

After a few days spent daydreaming of my escape to Guernsey, I plunged headfirst into an adventure story that had me on the edge of my seat right up until I turned the last page. In early December I happened to stumble upon a rave review from Stephenie Meyers for a book called "The Hunger Games." So I sent it to my friend for her birthday. I rarely send a book that I've not read, but I took Stephenie for her word. My friend (who will remain unnamed) called me after reading it, confessing that she sat in the parking lot of the post office to finish it, even though she kept having to fib a bit to her family, who called repeatedly to find out what was taking so long. "A horrific line in the post office!" So of course I got the book--for my kids--for Christmas, ahem, and we've all taken turns under its spell. If you are faint of heart, then you might not like the premise. But if you can stomach the gruesome scenario that the poor people in this book face, you will more than likely lose yourself over to the story and come out with shorter nails than when you began. It's a young adult book that is appropriate for 12 and up.

So now you have two captivating yet completely different experiences just waiting for you.

And, sigh, just as soon as I hit PUBLISH POST, I will face that dreaded stack.

New Year's Progress

2009-01-01T11:02:00.000-08:00

There was a time when I wondered if I could ever change.

After struggling with the same silly propensities for so long, I wondered if I should just forget about all that self-improvement bunk and just accept that I am not who I thought I would be.

But yesterday I witnessed a sliver of change in myself that has rekindled my hope in new days and new starts and new beginnings. I know. Just in time for the new year, right?!

I had planned a little New Years' Eve party, nothing much, just a few families over to have the chili Nikki raved about and play games and ring in the New Year. And then on New Years' morning we were going to get up early and continue our tradition of driving to Pasadena to see the Rose Parade. (Okay, well, if we went this year it would be the second year in a row, but traditions have to start somewhere.)

I was really looking forward to the party and parade.

Then Jon came home on Monday after working 18 hours, and he was sneezing like a banshee. After another 18 hour work day on Tuesday, he had a fever and chills. Wednesday he got up early and dragged himself to work, even though he was in full-on flu mode. (Big work commitment on January 5) He didn't say it, but I knew that coming home to a house full of guests and an early morning parade was going to be torture for him.

And here's where the change comes...in the past I would have begged him to just take some more flu drugs and suck it up and party with our friends, no matter that he really needed to collapse in bed.

But I didn't. Without involving Jon, I canceled the party and the parade plans with our neighbors. Then I sent Jon an email telling him that he was off the hook.

And I didn't even pout. Much.

(Maybe a little moping, but that was only because after the party was canceled my kids all made other plans. So then I was home alone with Jon, who was sleeping on the couch--bless him--and his mom, who watched me work on a puzzle. Boring doesn't even begin to describe it.)

But somehow I was okay with it.

Which gives me hope that I can change. Even if it is by baby steps.

Happy New Year!

(We did have a fun time at Christmas, and here are some of my favorite memories...)

Christmas Eve Reflection

2008-12-24T09:01:00.000-08:00

If, as Herod, we fill our lives with things,
and again with things; If we consider ourselves so
unimportant that we must fill every moment of our
lives with action, when will we have the time to
make the long slow journey across the desert as did
the Magi? Or sit and watch the stars as did the
shepherds? Or brood over the coming of the child
as did Mary? For each of us, there is a desert to travel.
A star to discover,
and a being within ourselves
to bring to life.

~Anonymous

(Possible) Return to Sender

2008-12-17T14:27:00.001-08:00

Dear Maddy,

I loved you from the moment I set eyes on you.

And once we got past your 3 1/2 year-old stage, it's been an absolute delight to be your mother. You've brought me more joy than I ever thought possible.

After 16 years with you, I've grown mightily attached.

But if you EVER take the shaving cream out of my shower again, I may have to send you back where you came from.

Love,

Mom

Making a List and Checkin' it Twice...

2008-12-16T09:07:00.000-08:00

Can I just state again for the record---I love, love, LOVE Christmas cards! When December the first rolls around each year, I actually SKIP to the mailbox every day until Christmas (the rest of the year I slightly dread opening it--all that paper and miscellany to deal with each day makes my head spin, but that's a post for another day).

It's a thrill to open each beautiful card and to feel the particular joy of reconnecting with people we love.

Today I have plans to put my family's cards in the mail, but I'm having a Christmas card conundrum. Can you say "Lucy!!" (in your best Ricky Ricardo imitation)

Even though I ordered what I calculated was more than enough cards, somehow I'm short. So now I'm going to have to go over my list again and see who should, well, get the rub.

It's not easy for me to decide. On my side of the family, I have 14 of my parents' siblings to consider, and about 80+ cousins. And there's Jon's extended family, too.

In the course of my 22-year marriage, we have lived in 9 different places, from Cincinnati to Singapore and many places in between. We made dear, dear friends in each of those stops, but in many cases, Christmas cards are now our only contact with some of those families.

So how does one decide which of her 80+ cousins needs to get a card? Naturally I feel closer to some than others, but what if I send a card to one or two cousins in a particular family...will the other siblings be offended?

Should I continue to send cards to friends from long ago that we don't talk to often? But isn't that the point of Christmas cards--to help maintain ties with people you've loved over the years?

And what about my big ward of 50+ families? They see us every week, so do any of them really need a card with a picture of us? Would a boxed card be fine for those friends? I do like getting THEIR pictures, though, and I actually feel a twinge of disappointment when a card arrives (from anyone) with no picture...

So now you see the mess I've made for myself. Sigh.

But rest assured, dear reader, that if you ever posted a comment on my blog, you made the cut.

I do have my priorities.

(Here's a family photo that didn't make it onto our card...but it's one of my favorite pictures of 2008. The Fourth of July at T-Street Beach.)

I Told You...

2008-12-11T17:30:00.001-08:00

...she was a Blogger Extraordinaire! (see my blogroll)

My niece Sheriece's hilarious post The Case of the Funky Stench was chosen from among thousands and thousands of entries (okay, so I am guessing that many) for the Nie Nie Recovery Book which Sue from "navel gazing at it's finest" is compiling.

Congratulations, Sheriece!

Here I am with Sheriece back before she was famous:

(This girl from High School Musical came up to us and asked to get a picture with Sheriece!)

And here we are together on my birthday trip to Memphis. That's Sheriece on the left...

For a limited time (before all of the craziness hits) you may be able to join in a blogging Bookclub that Sheriece is starting up...hurry and post a comment on her blog to let her know you want to be included!

To think I knew her when...

Are you Smarter than a 5th Grader?

2008-12-09T22:35:00.000-08:00

So I'm not an avid quilter.

Or baker.

Or canner.

Or home decorator.

But at least I'm smart.

Or so I used to think before facing Jessica's 5th grade math.

Now I've already done 5th grade math FOUR times in my life--once when I was in the fifth grade and then once with each of my other three children. You'd think I'd be really, really good at it by now.

But the stinkin' math sheets Jessica brings home are enough to make me want to pull my hair out (which I have done in the past and believe me, it hurts).

Remember the days when you could actually look at a textbook and figure out your kids' math by a quick (and stealthy) glance at the explanations?? Well, I'm all for lightening backpack loads, but please don't send home just one silly little sheet with no real illustration of how to figure out what in blazes the problems are asking!

And Jessica, bless her soul, is not much help, either. She probably will be an avid quilter and baker and canner and decorator, but the poor girl will never major in math, if you get my drift. A few weeks back I had to email her teacher and ask about the division homework, and when he wrote back, he actually defined quotient for me. Ugh. He must be thinking the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. I wish I could nonchalantly let him know that I was honestly a real math wiz back in my day...

So yesterday Jess brought home some math sheets on factors and multiples. Remember those? I loved doing all of those things way back when, so I knew exactly how to explain it to her. I got through a couple of problems which dealt with finding the least common multiple (LCM), explaining it to her step by step. When I finished, Jessica looked a bit dazed. Then she said that her teacher had told the class that the way I did it was the old-fashioned way, and that there was a much simpler method, only she didn't remember what it was.

I was not about to email her teacher with yet another inane question, so we just plowed through the problems, the old-fashioned way.

Today she came home all excited to show me the easy, simple method. And guess what? It really was easy. And it really was simple.

I'm thinking about pulling out some old quilting projects or canning some tomatoes for Christmas...

Holiday Heartbreak

2008-12-02T13:47:00.000-08:00

I went to bed crying on Thanksgiving.

Not because I was missing my extended family (although I was).

Not because my cooking flopped (although my pretzel-strawberry jello salad was, well, soupy).

I went to bed crying because of my mother-in-law. (She flew in with McKelle for Thanksgiving.)

I wish I went to bed crying because I had had some kind of fight with her or because she had said something really unkind to me. But no, that's not the case at all. I wish it were that simple.

I went to bed crying because my mother-in-law is slipping away from us right before our very eyes. The Barbara we all love and adore is descending into Alzheimer's, and it's absolutely heartbreaking to watch.

There are moments she seems so lucid and well--like when she tell us a story with perfect detail from the past. But then she asks something like, "What do you call that box with a zipper that you put clothes in?" or "Now what is McKelle's last name? Who are her parents?" and we realize that we don't know how confused she really is. One afternoon she told Jessica "You look just like my granddaughter! What's your name?" (Jessica had taken her hair out of a ponytail and the change in her appearance threw Barbara for a loop.)

This summer Jon's dad was worried that Barbara was dying--she had not been able to keep food down and was rapidly losing weight from her already slender build. At one point she was just over 90 pounds. So Jon's sister Cherilyn flew to Virginia to help her for a week, and ended up staying nearly 2 months. Then Cherilyn went back home to Utah and took Barbara with her, where she has been since October. Now Barbara is here with us, but she can't keep it clear in her mind where she is exactly. She only knows she isn't home, and she keeps telling us that she really needs to go home.

How can we send her home where she will be alone most of the time and where she will forget to eat and lose her things and call service people like the dryer repairman at odd hours of the night? We need to take care of her, but she wants to be in her familiar surroundings.

We've thought about a caregiver in her home. But that option isn't always easy either. A friend's mother who had Alzheimer's used to call her daughter and whisper in the phone "There is a stranger in the house!" referring to the caregiver who had been with her for many years. So whether she is staying with one of her children or in her own home, we know there is a level of confusion that will never go away.

I feel such deep love and compassion for her and would do anything to spare her this long, confusing road. But for now we all we can do is cherish the time left that she still has her good moments.

Who knows how long they will last.

Hahahappy Thanksgiving!

2008-11-25T10:04:00.000-08:00

42

2008-11-08T06:11:00.000-08:00

I'm sitting on a plane which will take me to Memphis on my birthday! Can it get any better than spending my big day with my mom and sisters and nieces and nephews?! (The only way it could be better is if Jon, McKelle, Maddy, Clay and Jessica were going with me. And if Carla and Sabra were going to be there. But still.)

I have a heart full of gratitude today for my life and all my blessings. I read a great quote this morning:

"A fish in water who is thirsty has need of serious therapy!!" How could I ever thirst?

Undecided No More

2008-11-03T21:49:00.000-08:00

On Tuesday morning I will be leaving my home at 6:00 am to walk down to a neighbor's house which is also my polling place, where I will spend 15 hours as a volunteer election poll clerk--my small contribution to what will likely be an historic day.

And when there is a lull in the line of voters at some point, I will cast my vote.

After a heartfelt struggle over the past few months, I have finally left the ranks of the undecided.

I like Barack Obama.

When he first came on the radar screen, I didn't like him at all. I was furious when the Reverend Wright story broke. I was appalled by Michelle Obama's comment that for the first time she had hope in America. I was baffled and disgruntled by the fact that so many people were so passionately backing someone with such limited experience.

But at some point I decided I would listen to what Obama had to say. And that's when I changed my mind about him.

I like that he was calm and respectful during the debates. I like that he is smart. I like his focus on energy, and healthcare, and education. I like that he says there is not a Liberal America and a Conservative America, but rather one America. I like that he is an inspiring speaker--our country needs some inspiration right about now. I like that people around the world will regain some of their lost respect for our country if he is elected. I like that he wants to end the war in Iraq sooner than later.

I like Barack Obama.

But I have decided I cannot vote for him.

I like much of what he says and what he says he wants to do. But not how he wants to do it. In the final analysis, I don't believe that bigger government is the answer to our problems. And as many times as Obama says that won't be the result of his policies, I can't believe him.

I don't want to see federal funding for abortion or embryonic stem cell research.

I don't want the Fairness Doctrine revived.

I don't want one party to have control of our federal government, no matter which party.

I don't want America to follow in the footsteps of Europe and slowly slide toward socialism.

I don't know for certain that all of these things will happen with Obama as president, but there is a good chance they could.

So for these (and other) reasons I will be voting for John McCain.

But if Barack Obama wins the election (which it looks like he will), for a time I plan to give him the benefit of the doubt. I will hope that the good I see in him turns out to be the real him. And I will hope that he can be the Change we Need.