It's Carved in Wood...

Remember our new Family Motto for 2012?

And remember when I said I needed to get ahold of Hallmark

n' see if they might have it on a plaque?

Ha!

Leave it to my BFF, Nan to get the job done:

 I know, right?

Let us recite the mantra 

of the

"Don't Suck" motto:

1- I will do my part.

2- I will be a good example.

3- I will serve others.

4- I will do what other people who don't suck do.

While other families are probably making the same goals for 2012

and wrapping it all up in warm fuzzy words,

(remember, I wanted it to be "Bring 'em In")

yeah,

we're apparently not having that warm n' fuzzy stuff

around here.

Nope.

We're going for BOLD, BLUNT, To-The-Point.

Don't Suck.

SO let it be written,

so shall it be done.

What about your family's 2012 motto?

Once More With Feeling...

I totally forgot that I submitted this post for the MMB--
go over and leave a comment FCOL.
Thanks.

Family Motto for 2012

SO, I'm layin' in bed next to Mr. Wonderful,
whose watchin' football on the tube,
and I say,
"Hey. I have an idea. Open your ears and listen, k?"

(I had to say that, cause his eyes were focused on the New Orleans' Saints
kickin' some other teams' bahooey
and I really really wanted to share my BIG IDEA
before it escaped into the revolving door of my memory.)

"So, I was thinkin' about having a family motto this next year, right?"

"Uh-hunh."

"I was thinkin' we should call it, "BRING 'EM IN"--you know, invite more people into our home--
get to know more people so we can ya know, serve'em n' such. Whaddya think?"

Without taking his eyes off the TV, Mr. W says:

"I have a better idea. How 'bout 'DON'T SUCK' " ?

"Really? "Don't Suck"?  How does this look in practice? What's the inspiration?

"Don't Suck--Do your part, be a good example, serve others-- do what other people who don't suck do."


Nice.
Anyone know where I can get a plaque made?
Hold On while I call Hallmark.

Christmas Flurries

You know my favorite kind of snowstorm?

The kind that I don't have to go out into.

We're having that kind of day here today

at the foothills of Pikes Peak.

My world is truly a winter wonderland here

and I'm loving it.

(our neighbor's house across the street--isn't it festive?)

This is my favorite Colorado--

snow fallin' like nobody's business,

the houses that line our street are covered in white

and the glow of Christmas tree lights twinkling

makes everything feel a bit magical.

This week, we baked a few dozens of our favorite cookies--

eaten as much as we've given away, truth be told here,

and enjoyed every little bit.

I am getting those tingly feelings inside

that began when I was just a little girl

on Christmas morning--

you know those feelings, right?

Tickle-y, nervous, anxious about what's-going-to-be- 

under-the-tree- kinda feelings?

Christmas flurries.

I've already got them.

Present planning and wrapping,

menu planning and making,

having most of our yahoos home

to share this holiday with--

all of it, 

adds to my Christmas flurries.

We're ready to go.

I've shared before that we observe 

The Four Gifts of Christmas--

but I'll share again what that is:

Each person receives FOUR gifts...

*Gold: Something Special, something asked for or truly needed. “worth gold” in sentiment. (wrap it in gold paper/bag!)
*Frankincense: Something Spiritual/Inspiring for the individual.
*Myrhh: Something to encourage the individual’s talents or hobby.
*Santa Claus: Something whimsical, fun, unexpected. (wrap it in cartoon paper/bag ie: santa, snowman; make it FUN!)

So that there are not disappointments on Christmas morning, I have the children write their letters to Santa, listing 5 different possible gifts in each category.  That way, there are still surprises, and I feel free to put a "twist" on certain gifts if I want to.  We adopted this tradition about 8 years ago, and I really like it. The oldest kids have continued it into their adulthood and families as well.  So that says something, I think.

Gift Ideas:

A year ago, we gave Diana her temple slippers for a Frankincense gift, with a personal handwritten note with the thought that "all roads lead to the temple" attached.

For a Myrhh gift: I ordered special art prints from the Victoria and Albert Museum. for both Dani and Diana.

As a Gold gift, we once surprised Dara with a new stereo.  It wasn't on her list at all, but she went wild opening it!

Last year, we gave Joseph and Arianna mountain climbing gear for their Myrhh gifts and they were surprised and excited.

Anyway, that's how we observe gift-giving in our family.

Christmas Eve has it's own traditions too--Mr. W brought some with him as he came into our family. One is to cook tritip steaks and crablegs. It's evolved so that we may or may not have tri-tip steak--we've made bechamel lasagna instead, but we almost always have crablegs, if we can help it.  The kids love that tradition for some reason.  And we allow one gift to be opened Christmas eve too--it won't be one of the Four, but usually it's the gift from the person who drew their name for a family gift. 

Man, I'm getting excited just thinking about what's coming the next few days, aren't you?!!

What gives you Christmas flurries?

Come With Me

I'm over at the Mormon Mommy Blogs today.
C'mon over.

Blessings

“God does watch over us and does notice us, 

but it usually through someone else 

that he meets our needs.

~Spencer W. Kimball

Have you ever felt like,

no matter which way you look

there are blessings to be seen and felt

all around you?

And, even more than that,

those blessings are there because of the good people

that grace your life?

I'm feeling that way lately.

Alot.

This December has been nearly "magical" for me--

mainly because of really awesome friends

who've shown me in a zillion different ways

that I matter to them.

That my family is important to them.

We have the most amazing home teacher,

he's also the Stake Patriarch.

And every time he comes into our home

we feel our Savior's love for us.

When he has obliged to give one of us a blessing,

it's like heaven itself is streaming

through his hands

and when he's finished

we are soaking wet with heavenly distillation.

We love him.

Lord knows, we've needed him

and he lets us need him.

Which is awesome.

My menu-sharing sisters are so wonderful--

I can't say enough about how much I appreciate being a part of their group.

There've been days when making dinner was the last thing on my mind

and it's okay because I knew a warm, delicious meal 

would still be served for my family.

I can't believe I've never done this before,

but I plan on doing this until I die.

We all got together last night,

at one gal's home 

with our families

and sat around eating and laughing

and getting to know one another.

We have more in common than being mothers

and it's made my life sweeter.

Since my accident,

I've gotten to know the staff at my chiropractor's office.

Sweet, kind women who are patient with me

when I forget my appointment time

and go the extra mile to make sure 

I don't miss out on my healing altogether.

They call, they write messages,

they smile when I am a few minutes late.

They don't know how much I appreciate their grace,

but I really do.

My one true consistent blessing is my friend, Nan.

She's the kind of friend that I can call for anything,

any time, any where.

I can show up at her house in my pj's,

and do crafts.

I can call her for any reason at all,

and if she can, she'll do whatever I need at that moment.

She saves her old magazines, Deseret News, and Church News

for me.

If I'm late picking up Arianna from school,

Ari knows she can walk to Sister J.'s house and wait.

And Ari knows she will be lovingly welcomed inside by the same sister

she used to sit upon her lap when she was in Nursery 10 years ago.

This past week, Nan and her husband Clay cut a ton of wooden ornaments

for each of my yahoos to sand and paint--

just because.

Dani, Nana, Daisie, Joseph and Ari

all of them--

have gone over and painted ornaments this past week.

My children asked me, just a minute ago,

if we're going back today.

Nan makes sure I keep my hair appointments,

she reminds to do all kinds of things

that I might mention in passing--

she doesn't forget or miss a thing.

She even mails me cards that say funny things like

"Friends are God's way of apologizing for the family we've been sent to."

I love you, Nan.

Thank you for letting me.

My Mr. Wonderful is the best man in the world

for me.

He speaks my "love language" fluently.

We went to his company Christmas party last weekend

and he made sure I had a great time.

Sucha a fun date!

As his team came over and introduced themselves to me,

they were gracious and lovely--

most of them are immigrants from Russia and Laos,

so their english is not very good,

but there was no mistaking their smiles.

I was proud to be at Mr. W's side, you know?

He's a good man.

Christmas is in 5 days.

Five! Can you even believe it?

I hope you can soak in as much joy and wonder

as the desert in a rainstorm

before the season is over.

Me?

I'm heading down to the kitchen, 

crankin' up my new Michael Buble Christmas cd,

 and start making a few dozen batches of cookies

with the yahoos.

This is my kind of Christmas.

I'm Over At the MMB Today

Go on over, 
you'll be glad you did!

A Blessing for Isaac

I almost forgot that we'd taken pics of Isaac's blessing
on Thanksgiving Day!

Mr. Idaho's family gathered from Idaho, Nebraska and Utah
with ours in Golden, Colorado
and we went to a little chapel there,
just our two little families,
and Mr. Idaho, Granpa Idaho, Brother Idaho,
and Mr. Wonderful
took that little baby boy in their arms and
gave him a name and a blessing.

 A name and a blessing explained:
It is not a baptism of the child, but an ordinance performed by (usually) the child's father who holds the Melchizedek Preisthood.  Other men are invited to join him in a circle--those men also hold the same priesthood--and the ordinance is actually a prayer to Heavenly Father, to bless the child according to the guidance given by the Holy Ghost.  It's not a set prayer and each blessing is as different and unique as each child.

 Most often, the child is blessed with physical and mental health and strength,
spiritual gifts and understanding,
and other blessings like a love for family and God.

 A "name" is given--it is always the child's legal name which he/she shall be known by through this mortal life and on the records of the Church, that has been chosen by the child's parents.

The blessings of babies usually occurs on the first Sunday of each month,
but as was the case here, it was delayed until Mr. Idaho's family could attend and participate in it.
A member of Dani's Bishopric made special arrangements to meet our families at the church to witness
the ordinance and then we all headed back to their place for dinner.

Danielle shared her birth story here.

A Little Bit of Help

On the way to Church Sunday
the two youngest were going at each other 
with familiar jibes most of the way there
until I had had enough and said over my shoulder:
"Enough! You guys be quiet."
Then began the exchanges of
"[He/she] started it!"
Again,
I tossed over my shoulder,
"I said 'enough' and I mean it. Be nice!"


Silence.


The Arianna turned to Joseph and said, 
in a very southern-drawl way,
"You is smaht. You is kiiiinnd. You is importahnt."


We laughed all the way to Church with tears rolling down our cheeks.


I love that yahoo.

Flashin'

A few years ago,
my friends Nan, Kelly, Marilyn and I
went to Denver to see Time Out for Women.
We stayed the night in a hotel up there too
and had such a great time together--
enjoying the conference and each other's company.
When it came time for bed though,
that's when I first learned that some of us were
experiencing menopause.
There were two beds in the bedroom,
and a sofa bed in the front room.
Marilyn had her own room.
SO I shared the bedroom with one of my friends,
who shall remain nameless,
and the other friend got the sofa bed, her choice.

The one in the front room had the a/c going,
while the one in my room was having a heat stroke
in the middle of the night,
as she sat on the edge of the bed sweating like popsicle in July.
I was alternately hot and cold and thought
there must be something wrong with the hotel's thermostat.

It's been three years since that night...
and I've learned it's not the thermostat on the wall that's calling the shots,
but my own internal thermostat that's ruled by my hormones.
My bedtime routine has become comical.
The other night,
as I put my cotton pj top on over my fleece pj bottoms--
(I can't wear the fleece top because it gets too warm)
then put on fuzzy socks,
then turned on a little fan next to my bed
that has a sheet, a matelasse cover, and a quilt,
as I was doing all of the this--
I looked over to my husband, Mr. Wonderful,
to see only his face from the nose up, was uncovered.
He looked like he was sleeping in the arctic wind tunnel.
I let out a chuckle,
and he said,
"You flashin' tonight?"
I knew he meant "hot flashes" and said with a laugh,
"Yeah, I guess I am."


Truth is, I'm like a bad Katy Perry song,
"I'm flashin' hot then I'm flashin' cold" all night long.
Some nights, I end up shedding the fleece pants;
others they're on 'til daylight.
The socks also come and go--
I mostly end up keeping one foot out side of the covers,
and one sock ends up on the floor,
but not the foot that's in the open air.
No, that foot has to keep a sock on it.
The covers themselves are ruled by my flashin' schizophrenia
all night long, travelling up and down my body hourly.
On
Off
On
Off.
My poor husband ends up with whatever is left.
And he doesn't complain about it.
No kidding.
I have to keep the fan on,
for two reasons:
first, it keeps the flashin' night sweats (ew!) under control.
Secondly, I have found that white noise helps my flashin' insomnia
so I sleep better.
The temperature in our bedroom
that is built over the garage and is usually cooler anyway,
is certainly, at least, ten degrees cooler than the rest of the house.
If I had a little vent straight up from the garage bays
that I could open next to my bed,
I would probably try that.
Probably. Until I get too cold.

I've also noticed that my attitude is definitely affected by these flashin' hormones--
my usually warm and patient self
can be "testy" at times.
I revert back to my 13-year-old self I think,
where I do indeed wish the world revolved around me.
I know. I know. It's ridiculous. Preposterous, even.
But in my head, I hear the Willy Wonka girl, Veronka:
"Give it to me! Give it to me NOW!"

There's always seems to be a flood of tears just under the surface--
and I hate that. Hate it.
My recent car accident really affected those emotions too.
I have been an emotional boob to the nth degree.
It ain't pretty, sisters.

In a personal quest to find out more about menopause,
I've been surfing the www alot--
and while I'm not using all of my plumbing and am so so so ready for some of these parts
to hit their expiration date,
there's also the concern of wondering what my new post-flashin' self will end up like,
you get me?
The www isn't helping.
I have alot of questions!
Serious questions that need answers.
Like, how crazy will I end up?
Remember Aunt Esmerelda on "Bewitched"--
the bumbling, mumbling gray-haired witch who couldn't remember all the right words to spells?
She was nuts, right? Or maybe just menopausal, because I think I many be related to her.
Or how about Bernice Clifton, on "Designing Women" when she wore a Christmas tree skirt AS a skirt?
Was she crazy or just menopausal?
I look around at the older gals I know and this is what I noticed--
they're all much quieter than younger women...
I can't decide if it's because with age comes wisdom
and they're just happy watching the world go by
or
if they're quietly plotting a secret getaway and just gritting their teeth
at the stupidity around them!
Or, and here's where I am sorta thinking will be my case--
they' just aren't sure where they are or how they got there!

I don't get this stage of life.
Just when I've figured life out--
you know, what's important,
what counts,
how many calories are in a Snickers bar, etc.--
just when I've found my strengths,
my dang hormones get to flashin' and ruins my stride!
I've always welcomed my birthdays--every one--
I like the idea of getting older,
but the reality is precarious.

Okay, that's all I got.
Time to make my bed and look for the sock I lost last night.

Enjoy this:

If You Give A Boy An Axe: A Christmas Tree Story

Lessons come along all the time, even when you're just busy living life
and don't see 'em coming...

Last Saturday, we piled the whole family into the Sub
layered with winter coats, gloves, hats and scarves
bundled up for the wintry weather, with the temperatures in the low teens
and a few inches of snow on the ground and still falling

then headed out to cut our own Christmas tree at a local tree farm.

Where we walked and walked and walked around
several acres looking for the perfect tree.

See every one's faces?
Cold and frozen, but happy!

The problem was evident for me
as soon as we got to the tree farm--
these were not the kind of trees
I was expecting--
most were easily over 20' high.

But, we were hoping to find
just one
to claim as our own.

After a half hour in the below-freezing temps,
the oldest kids took the babies and headed back to the car...
I was ready to go too,
as I realized there simply wasn't a tree there
that would fit.
There was just one problem--
when you give a 12 year old boy an axe
in a forest of trees,
he's going to want to use it.
Ain't that the truth?
It's hard to tell an axe-carrying boy
that he can't use it.
even if he might not understand that a 20' tree in nature isn't going to look like--
a Christmas Tree at home.
I told him we could go to Home Depot and get one there,
but he didn't want that choice--
not when he's got a perfectly good axe in his hand.
So,
Mr W and I stayed in the forest and walked around
until we came across one that seemed the best choice
and I was too frozen and tired to keep looking:

We gave Joseph the "go ahead"
and he was thrilled!

Chop, Chop, Chopping with the axe at first

Then the little saw,
provided by the tree farm guy:

It was tricky for a novice lumberjack:

This is the tree as it stood in the earth:

Same tree, cut in half, as it stood in our dining room,
because it was too huge to fit in the family room, after we'd added lights:

It was pretty awful.
Still,
we'd just watched
"A Charlie Brown Christmas"
the night before,
so we put on our thinking caps
and decided we'd make do with our
"Charlie Brown Tree"--
I was determined to make it beautiful!

But, we only had 3 strands of lights that worked,
because until this year, we had a pre-lit artificial tree
and didn't really know how many strands of lights we own.

I had a can of "snow" that I thought would add "something"--
I didn't know what that something might be,
but something.
Nope, still awful, pitiful, even.

There were so few branches
and so many "holes"
we thought adding some fabric garland might fill it in,
so I got some out and Dani and Nana and I began ripping it into shreds
and tying it in knots
going for a "primitive country" look:

We sang and laughed our guts out
and put on happy "who-cares" kinda faces.

Poor Joseph,
realizing that his desire to cut a tree
overshadowed what the tree's purpose was,
felt awful.
"Mom, can we please go to Home Depot and get a different tree?"
He asked several times.
I shook my head and said,
"No, this is what we have and we'll make do."
Diana added, "It doesn't matter how ugly the tree is,
there's still going to be presents under it."
The girls and I kept adding ornaments to it
until there was nothing more left to do.
I stood back,
shrugged my shoulders
"it is what it is"
and started cleaning up.

Joseph had gone to his room feeling disappointed.

So did Mr. W and I.

I kept my thoughts to my self overnight
wondering what to do.
Christmas is a celebration and
this was not going to add to the celebration
at all.
Not the way I wanted to start it,
at least.

So,
in the morning,
when Mr W and I were lying in bed awake,
I suggested that he take Joseph to Home Depot
and the two of them choose a better tree for the family
to help Joseph sort of redeem himself.
Mr W agreed.

Last night they did just that
and brought home a beautiful tree that we'll decorate tonight
after dinner.

The lessons have been learned.
Keep the big picture in mind.
Don't be blinded by what's in front of you,
when you've got an axe in your hand.
Respect nature--
it's not going to change once you get your hands on it,
no matter what.
Charlie Brown's tree was magic.
Thank goodness for do-overs!

Tell it From the RoofTops!

It's back!
My brain is back in town!
The fog has been lifted three whole days
and man! what a feelin'!
I can think whole thoughts again
and as Diana put it to our home teachers,
"speak in full sentences".

Whew!
Grateful
Grateful
Grateful.

I have things to do!
Tonight is our ward's Relief Society Christmas party
and I'm helping to set-up for that
and even participate in the little program too.

I'm really happy,
can you tell?
Am I using enough exclamation marks??!!!

What Makes Me Happy

Lately, well, since the accident
and my mind turned to toast,
or as Mr W says, "porridge",
I'd sorta lost myself inside myself.

I've been at home alot.
Resting.
Alot.
And on strict orders by my neurologist to
"act like [I'm] on vacation."

A vacay in my house
is not my idea of a great vacation.
But, and here's the best part
if I hurt my head again,
in my doc's words,
it could be
and I quote:
"catastrophic."

Okay then.
SO I'm home.

I haven't been doing things
I love[d] doing before the accident.
The things I kept saying that if I ever had time to do
I would do--
nope, not those.
I have tow books that I've been putting together
but did you know that being a good writer
requires, like, 110% brain power + creativity.
Which, when your brain resembles toast
so that thinking about writing and typing as well,
is not condusive
can't be done without a good amount of frustration.
It takes forever to go over and over again
with spellcheck.

So I am not writing much these days,
as you may have noticed.

Left alone with my thoughts,
I started wondering where my happiness will come from now
in these frustrating days.
There have been no brilliant ah-ha moments
that I even feel mildly compulsed to share in writing.

This has made me sad.
I mean, to the bone sad.

What else is there? I asked to the heavens.
What makes me happy? I wondered in my heart.

Then the answer came.
And, what's weird is that I actually got the message
even with a brain full of porridge.
"Living the gospel makes you happy."

The answer filled my entire self with
peace and light.

It does.
Take away all other distractions
and at the core of who I am
way back there behind my talents and other pursuits,
living the gospel makes me happy.

I came across a blank Young Women's Personal progress book
laying on the desk
and I opened it as though I'd never seen one
and the thought came to me,
"Do this. It will make you happy."

So I am.

'Twas The Night Before Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving is about "family" and "food"
this we know...
similar to the baseball spirit voice in
"Field of Dreams"--
"If you serve it, 
they will come."


This Thanksgiving will be unusual for our little family--
it won't be just us around the dinner table!
Actually, we don't have a "little" family at all--
when we're all together
there's 12 of us, 
I think--
hold on while I count...
7 + 4 + 2
Oops! make that 13 of us
and that's just immediate family!


Add to that Mr. Idaho's family 
who're here too
from, ya know, Idaho--
and we've got a whole lotta more people
to dig in and enjoy the holiday with!
Bring it! I say!


My small confession however, is that I've done exactly 
zero shopping for this meal so far.
Zero, Zip, Nada, None.
Because I've been a lazy puke this week (and last)--
only going to doctor appointments,
meeting with a personal injury attorney,
having my brain scanned cat-style,
more x-rays than is probably healthy for me,
and then watching more TV than ever
because basically, 
my brain has been toast 
since the stupid accident.


But today is the day--
I've made my shopping list
and checked it twice
so with the assistance of the 3 youngest yahoos,
we shall attempt to get the grocery goods
and commence ta cookin'!


Since I'm not making the turkey (Mr. Idaho's Mom is)
my main menu will be
Deviled eggs (everybody loves 'em!),

dozen eggs
1/2 c. mayo
2 tsp. mustard
paprika
Boil the eggs. Peel eggs. Slice in halves. Mix mustard and mayo with the egg yolks. Spoon into egg white "holes". Sprinkle with paprika. *Tarragon is good too, but optional. (The secret to getting little kids to enjoy them is to keep the ingredients simple.)


Fresh cranberry sauce

Bag of cranberries

One cup of water

One cup of sugar

Boil the water and sugar together.

Add cranberries.

Boil for a few more minutes until cranberries have "popped" open.

Remove from heat.

Let cool to room temp. and then refrigerate.

Sausage and sage dressing

This is super easy!

Just use whatever kind of stuffing mix you want

and follow the directions on the package.

Then, add a pound of sausage/sage to it

and mushrooms if you like.*

Cranberry salsa

Cranberry Salsa

1 bag of fresh raw cranberries—washed

1 granny smith apple –cored and chunked

½ red pepper

½ red onion

¾ c sugar

1/3 c sugar

3 T cilantro

3 T fresh jalapeno pepper

1 T grated lime zest

1 T lime juice

Put all ingredients into food processor.  Chop just until chunky.  Enjoy with chips or topping for baked chicken/salmon, brie cheese or sandwich spread.

Candied yams

LG. Canned yams
3/4 c. brown sugar
1 TB. cinnamon
1/4c butter
Spread over yams.
Top with marshmallows.
Cover and bake 400o for 25 minutes. or until marshmallows have melted/browned.

* I also use the stuffing mix to make Stuffed Mushrooms--
Use the stems for the dressing (chopped well),
Then fill the fresh mushroom caps with the stuffing mix
Drizzle a little butter over top and sprinkle with paprika and a snip of fresh parsley.
Easy peasy and everyone likes it!

And that's all that I'm bringing to the table this year to eat.

One other thing, to decorate the tables very simply and requires just a vase and a sprig of pine in water!


Simply grab your scissors or sheers,
snip off a just a sprig of pine (doesn't matter what kind)
long enough to fill the clear glass vase and above it however much you want,
then fill with water.
Smells and looks great!


You can also fill the vase with cranberries before putting in the pine,
but either way looks festive!


One last thing:
My Gratitude is Full this year as it hasn't been in many years
and I must acknowledge The Blessings in my life--
since 2006 we have not had our own home-
this year, five years later, and after many prayers and blessings,
I am cooking in my own kitchen in my own house again.
I am more grateful than words can express.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

After-Effects

Since the car accident,
life has taken a curve--
I thought life was getting better
actually--
I really did.
The Chiropractor I've been seeing
told me to give the concussion
7-10 days.
I counted down those days
one by one
and was almost to the finish line
until the doc adjusted my neck
in such a way
that all symptoms returned.

SO I went to a neurologist,
and my Internist
who has prescribed a
Catscan tomorrow.
I can't recall all the amount of information
that these docs have given me--
Diana went with me to the appts so she knows,
but what I can remember is that
it's gonna be alot longer than 7-10 days.
Boo.
There's some kind of concern about a lesion on my brain.
Nice, hunh?
I wonder how the 17 year old texting kid who hit me
going 45 mph is feeling these days?

I haven't been up to going to work again
since the accident.
Heck, I haven't even made my bed
in recent days
because I've been in it.
The brain injury has made me feel different emotions--
as I told my doctor
I feel Super-Emotional just under the surface.
(I would actually wear a shirt that has a big SE on it,
just to warn people.)
I know understand how people's personalities change
significantly with a brain injury...
first off, I'm tired all the time.
And I'm Impatient...whining sets me off.
And I do not like having to ask or say something
more than once--
which isn't good when there's still kids and teens at home.
Noise aggravates me.
I'm cranky--a lot.
Light bothers my eyes...
so even "a day in the sunshine" is uncomfortable.
And I tears well-up without warning.
See? It's weird.

My thoughts and sentences come out like I'm speaking morse-code--
everything's all choppy and slow.
Thank goodness for spell-check.

There are things that I haven't blogged about
because my brain is not working:
My friends gave me a 50th birthday party.
Joseph turned 12 and rec'd the Aaronic Preisthood.
Diana's home.  Or did I already share that?
Yeah, she's home and
wishing she was back
on the West side of the Rockies
because of a boy whose already forgotten about her
because the ratio of girls to boys over there is something like
250:1.
That's been fun.
Not.
Dean was removed from the Host Home he's been in since last January
because the HHP was found guilty of neglect.
I just found all this out on Friday.
I was very emotional about that--
I hate that he had to move again because of stupid people.
I know it's disruptive to his life and he has no control over that.
The former HHP (host home Provider) called me all upset right after Dean
was removed from their house--
this is the same man who, when I asked if they could meet me half-way with Dean
so we could have more time with him here,
told me "It's not worth my time and money."--
this guy wanted me to force the agency to put Dean back into their home.
Can you believe that?
Seriously.
I got this call between Dr's appointments--
so all I could say is "I'll get back to you."
when what I wanted to say is,
"Why on earth would I force Dean back into your home?  Your wife admitted that she'd neglected him for 2 weeks to make a point to the agency so you guys would get more money?!!!  It's not worth my time and money, dude. You're lucky I don't press charges."


But I didn't say any of that.
I just hung up and cried thinking about Dean
going to a total stranger's house that day
with zero warning.

His case worker called a few hours later to tell me
the move went fine and Deano was "ecstatic" (her word)
with his new place.
The husband is a Deputy Sheriff (I think--some kind of cop),
and the wife is...shoot, can't remember what she does.
Anyway, Dean's fascination with policeman was stirred
and when I spoke to him yesterday,
he didn't sound "ecstatic" at all,
but disoriented and quiet.
I keep telling myself that he was probably distracted by something
while talking to me and when we see him over thanksgiving this week,
I'll know more.

All of this has forced me to look heavenward for answers.

Dean is known by his Shepherd.
This life is not a carnival ride for Dean--
he too, must have lessons and experiences he needs
for whatever reasons,
to gain what he can from this Life.
Heavenly Father has tailored specific lessons
just for Dean and will not leave him alone for even an instant
as he travels through this mortal existance.
Knowing this gives my mother-heart peace.

As for my brain crap,
well there's gotta be a reason for it.
Maybe it's to slow my "running-around-like-chicken-with-its-head-cut-off" self
down...
cu'z that's certainly happened.
Maybe it's to get my focus more focused
on the really important things in life--
I'm easily distracted (squirrel!).

I don't really know why or what the reason is
behind this mess,
but I do know that my patriarchal blessing says
I will be blessed with a keen mind and be able to recall important things.
I'm claiming that blessing as mine all mine.
I'm claiming it and clinging to it.
That's what's keeping me sane through this.

Today, Joseph is passing the sacrament for the first time
and he'll be sitting up on the stand with the Bishop.
He got a haircut and a new suit last night,
so he'll look all holy up there in front of God and everyone.
Shoot, I'm tearing up just thinking about it.

I've re-read this post through to make corrections,
but I'm sure I've missed as many as I've caught,
so your patience is appreciated.
Feel free to correct me in the comments,
I won't be offended...
heck, I probably won't remember
but there you have it.

Oh, yeah--one more thing:
If you are having a thanksgiving dinner this week,
will you take pictures of your sacred dinner table
with your family all around
and hold onto that photo for me?
I've got a small project going on
and will tell you more later!
(My one ounce of creativity is bursting through! yea!)

I'm a "Quinquagenarian"!

Fifty of anything is alot--
fifty pennies
fifty jellybeans
fifty states
fifty friends
fifty of anything, except maybe rice,
is alot of something.


Fifty years is half of a century.
Regarding a person who is fifty,
you could be a
quinquagenarian.

Yeah, I had to look that up.
And yeah, I'd never heard that word before--
so there's my word for the day.
"Quinquagenarian"--
sounds alot like
"equestrian" mixed with "quinoa", yeah?

It's better than alot of other things I could be called,
so I'll take it.

Fifty years.
If there was ever an appropriate time to reflect back on my life,
this has to be it,
because the way my memory is going,
if I wait too much longer,
the ol' memory rolodex might pull stuff outta nowhere
and I'll end up thinking I'm the Queen of England.

So here begins a random memory dump:

Television/Technology:
We had 3 channels when I was a kid--
and if the sun and wind were acting up,
my dad would wrap tinfoil around rabbit ears
and have me stand right next to the tv for better reception--
or just hold onto the antenna until the next commercial.
And the TV was not for children.
I know, right?
No, the television was for adults--
if we were "granted" permission to touch the channel-changer,
we had to go S L O W L Y
click
click
clicking
around the dial
until we got back around to Channel Two News.
Or Combat Zone.

When I was in 2nd grade,
my father won a color TV from his work.
TV in full-blown Technicolor!
My favorite shows were
"Lassie"
"I Dream of Jeannie"
and "Bewitched"...
I really wanted to be magic when I was a kid.
Heck, I still do.

When I was about 9,
Saturday Morning Cartoons
was a big deal in our house.
It was like three whole hours of nothing but cartoons
and we loved it:
The Road Runner Show, Bugs Bunny, Josie and The Pussycats, Archie,
Underdog, and HR PufNStuff!
We even liked the commercials--
Blow Pops, Tootsie Roll Pops, School House Rock--
we loved 'em.

What's kinda sad is that although we had just 3 channels,
there was better stuff on them
than on the 500+ channels we have today.
Noone cussed on TV.
Violence was censored--
there was an announcement on the evening news
when reports were going to be shared about the
Vietnam War--
to give viewers a chance to scoot children out of the room
before it was broadcast.
Parents were alot more sensitive to what they wanted their children
to be exposed to back then.
And TV stations listened to the people--
it was the general population that decided
what was shown on television,
not the other way around
like it seems to be these days.

Microwaves, hair blowers, cell phones,
remote controls, fast food, videos, dvds, cassettes, eight-tracks,
and central air and heat,
were all invented since I arrived on this planet.
I can do without most of them,
I know this,
but life is sweeter with them.

MUSIC:
My mother was a singer
and loved music--
so I was exposed to nearly every kind of music out there--
Jim Reeves, Ray Connif Singers, The Beatles and the Rolling Stones,
Patsy Cline, Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass, The Supremes,
Elvis Presley, Cream, Glen Campbell, Bobby Goldsboro, Three Dog Night
and even Lawrence Welk!
My mom cleaned house while the stereo was blasting thru the house
singing her lungs out with every record that
dropped on the turntable
and the little tiny needle lay gently
on the vinyl record.

That's how I learned to actually enjoy cleaning my bedroom
as a child;
how I still clean today
and how I've taught my children to get in the mood to clean--
turn on some music!
Music back then was written more clean than it is today,
but there are still some wonderfully talented singers around
and I have my favorites these days too--
Carrie Underwood, Charlotte Church, Michael Buble, Rascal Flatts--
just to name a few.
Oh can't forget James Taylor--he's timeless.
 I just got a new CD for my birthday last week--
Michael Buble's Christmas one.
I love Christmas music--
The Carpenters is always on the top of my list
but Mr W hates that one--
I put it on anyway.

CLOTHES
Trends I've seen go around more than once:
Bell Bottoms
Tie-dye
Hemp shirts/pants/necklaces
Peasant tops/dresses (remember Jessica McClintock prom dresses?)
Neon: shirts, socks, shoes
Pleats: pants, skirts, dresses
Straight-leg jeans
Hip-huggers
High-waisted pants
Boots--go in and out and in and out all the time.

It's true what they say that if you hold onto something long enough
it'll be back in style before you know it--
the only problem with that is your old size isn't your new size
so there's that.

Patriotism:

I love saying the Pledge of Allegiance.
Ever since I was a little girl in First Grade.
I wanted to learn every single word--
there was a big deal going on when I was in about the 3rd grade--
about the time when Madelyn O'hair, an outspoken atheist
put up a big fuss about having to saying the words
"under God" in the Pledge.
There was a boy in my class that was allowed to
sit and be silent during the morning pledge--
and as I recall back,
that made him so uncomfortable
and gave him a stigma no child should have to endure.
It isolated him from the rest of us--
even my teachers treated him differently because of that.
I felt sorry for him.
How could he not want to put his hand on his heart
while looking at the white stars on the American flag
and felt so much pride he might bust open?!
That's how I felt, anyway.

I remember President Nixon's "I AM NOT A CROOK" speech on primetime TV.
I was ashamed for him.
I once saw his motorcade in Key Biscayne Florida when I was about ten years old...
flags on the Presidential car and several secret service cars/ men all around too--
it was pulling up to a fancy restaurant.  I did not see Nixon though.

I've written to only one President of the United States and that was
President Ronald Reagan.
I wrote right after he was sworn in and told him how much I love America
and prayed for him to be wise for our country.
I got a very nice letter back and he signed it on White House paper.

I used to trust politicians more when I was younger than I do now--
which is both smart and sad.
It's hard to tell the good guys from the bad ones these days
and I don't know how a country as great as ours really is,
has gotten to the point it's at now.
There's none to blame but ourselves,
but that's a whole 'nother blog, isn't it?

I still, to this day, get emotional saying the Pledge of Allegiance.
The Fourth of July fireworks and the sentiments of the day are not lost on me.
I am proud of our countrymen and women,
and I feel safer here than anywhere else I have had the privilege of travelling
around the globe.
I've seen a few wars in these 50 years--
some were shorter than others,
all of them heart-wrenching.
On the first day of the Kuwait war,(also called Operation Desert Storm) in 1991,
I wrote the name of the first US airman shot out of the sky,
Michael S.
in the front of my journal.
I wanted to remember him always.

I've always thought that the leaders of nations who declare war
upon one another--
those leaders
should stand at the front lines with our young soldiers
on the very first day of fighting.
If that were the standard practice of war,
I feel that there would be alot less wars in the world.
Sending young men to fight old men's battles just isn't right or fair
In My Opinion.

Family

Family is all I have in this world that is worth anything.
To be a Good Mother is my one goal.
It has required more effort than any other goal or pursuit
I may have selfishly taken on
but has provided more growth and genuine happiness
than any other experience this life has offered me.
Being part of a family is God's plan for His Children--
I know this and am so entirely grateful for mine.

Faith:
I know for myself that faith is its own reward--
whether you have been born into a particular faith
or found one on your own--
it should bring you peace
inspire you to be a better person
and lift you when life smacks you down.
Faith only has the power that you allow it to have--
great or small.
Religion is a vehicle to express that faith.
No matter what faith you ascribe to,
be mindful of it,
live it,
and if you're going to discard it for something else,
leave in peace.
For every person who leaves a faith,
there is another who has just found it that day
with gratitude.

LOVE:

IN abundance.


That's one thing I can recall clearly,
that I have learned what it means to be
Good And Loved
on this earth.
That's the best thing of all about being a
"Quinquagenarian".