Say hello to Mr. Angry eyes!

Drew is such a sweet little guy. With all his ALPS issues, he has more challenges than any almost four year old child should need to cope with. Last week, his platelets dropped, requiring a transfusion. Going back to preschool later in the week, he was self conscious of his bruises. That makes me feel so badly - both that he has to endure the illness and that he is concerned about being different.

However, he may have discovered a solution. Before story time at preschool, when everyone was quiet, he got in character as Mr Potato Head (from Toy Story 2) and shouted, "Say hello to Mr. Angry eyes!" Everybody was in hysterics, including the teachers. So if you have to laugh or cry, I'm with Drew. Let's have the laughing!

Adults say the darndest things

Art Linkletter used to have a television series with a segment entitled, "Kids say the darndest things" - but I'm thinking kids can't compare with adults.

At our marriage soiree, I talked to two of our ward members. One is a good friend and neighbor (and wife of our stake president). When I told her Chelle's news of monoamniotic twins, the concerned etched her face and then she finally said, "You just had it too easy when they were teenagers. We would look at your family during those years when everything was going perfectly and wonder, 'What are we doing wrong?'" I thought that was so interesting. Who knew she was secretly in awe of how well things appeared to be going. She has been so supportive over the years. When she learned of Kim's divorce, tears sprang to her eyes. When I told her about ALPS, she had to know exactly who had it and who didn't. She has been a good friend, truly one who mourns with those that mourn.

The other interesting comment was from an older sister in the ward. She said, "What is Greg doing?" I told her, but she clearly wanted to get to her message which was, "I have a 24 year old granddaughter who is single. Maybe we could set them up?" I thought that was so funny. She really doesn't even know Greg, but hey, he's single and she's single. Got to be a match made in heaven.

If you feed them, they will come.

We had a stake "Marriage Soiree". It has typically been a sit down dinner, a speaker, and then dancing. This year the dinner was replaced with "finger food". The attendance was HORRIBLE. I'll bet there weren't many more than a hundred there. From our ward, I could count six couples - and only two couples that weren't involved as stake leaders or on the committee. It was too bad, because the "finger food" was substantial enough to be a dinner - if you went through the line a few times. Chocolate covered strawberries, vegetables and dip, three bean salad, asparagus, mushrooms, fresh fruit, tiny pulled pork sandwiches. It was great!

My favorite part of the evening was a story teller (Suzanne Hudson) who portrayed Eliza R Snow, poetess and charismatic leader of women. She was the tenth wife of Joseph Smith (the love of her heart) and the eighth wife of Brigham Young. After Joseph Smith was martyred, she asked Brigham Young, "Who will be my champion?" He responded, "Eliza R Snow." While that isn't what she hoped to hear, I love the message. If you aren't your own champion, who will be?

The tradition continues

When the folks were alive, we would often gather at Maddox for dinner. It has been years since the folks could join us, but tonight we continued the tradition. Gary was here on a skiing trip for three days. Cherri made the three hour plus trek from Idaho in a blizzard. Craig and I (and spouses) filled out the table. Ashley represented the nieces and nephews. It was a great time. I'm sure mom and dad were looking down and craving that trout and the raspberry butter.

If it were fair, it wouldn't be a test

I was reading Lone Survivor (before I had to return it half read because of language). He talks about the various tests of endurance the SEALS were asked to endure in their training. In addition to physical stress, they were asked to endure emotional trials. One day there was a room check. One of the SEALS had spent hours getting his room perfect. When it came time for room check, he found that his room had been trashed. An instructor had sneaked through the window, trashed the room, and then exited - only to enter later and given him heck for having an uncleaned room. The explanation for doing such a thing was something like this: physical challenges are one thing, but what gets to you are the emotional ones. The very unfairness of the situation is what made it a particularly telling test. Could they endure unfairness and be able to get past it?

I have thought a lot about that. We do A, B, C and expect to get D. When we get Q instead, that is difficult to get our minds around.

Crying in WalMart

With cell phones, you can be absolutely anywhere when you get that phone call. Yesterday, I got one of those calls while I was in WalMart. The tears sprang to my eyes and coursed down my cheeks while I stood, glued in one spot in the produce department. Now, when I'm talking on the phone, I'm oblivious to everything around me. [When I had young kids, they took advantage of that fact. I'd often find them dancing on the table when I hung up the phone.] I decided I couldn't possibly decide whether to pay $2.78 for spinach while I was talking on the phone, and motioned for Steve to push the cart along. After my phone call ended, Steve pointed out the others who had seen my distress and been concerned. In WalMart of all places. Who would have guessed? I must say that I live in a pretty incredible place - with caring, supportive people - even in WalMart.

Day by Day

I love these thoughts...

Todd Christofferson writes, "In the 1950s my mother survived radical cancer surgery, but difficult as that was, the surgery was followed with dozens of painful radiation treatments in what would now be considered rather primitive medical conditions. She recalls that her mother taught her something during that time that has helped her ever since: “I was so sick and weak, and I said to her one day, ‘Oh, Mother, I can’t stand having 16 more of those treatments.’ She said, ‘Can you go today?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Well, honey, that’s all you have to do today.’ It has helped me many times when I remember to take one day or one thing at a time.”

Joseph McConkie states: As we venture out, we would like a ready source to tell us how to handle every difficult situation. But that is not the Lord’s system. It is not the design of heaven that we be rescued from all difficult situations. Rather, it is the Lord’s will that we learn to handle them. The sense of being overwhelmed is very much a part of the journey. The power with which God clothes us in His holy temples does not imply that our journey will be an easy one.

It's just not practical

When Mom used to take the kids shopping for their birthday, she never asked what I thought they should have. She only asked them. Lots of times they would come back with gifts that had no practical purpose. With all the things they could really use, it was hard to watch them come home with yet another knickknack. However, it gave me pause. I realized that gift giving, like most things I did, was drenched in practicality.

We went to Music Man this week. It was performed by a local community group. Two of our ward members were in it, but I didn't know that until I got there. It was quite enjoyable. Harold Hill was played by a young fellow whose family runs Pickleville Playhouse (T.J Davis). In reading his bio, I was struck by the fact that he had gone to dental school for a year, but because it wasn't "risky enough" he came back to a Northern Utah career in theatre. He was good, but, honestly, can anyone make a career in theatre in Northern Utah? Pickleville does well in the Summer, but summer is short at Bear Lake. I was impressed with the total lack of practicality of his plans, yet had to admire someone who throws caution to the wind and follows his dream.

Today two students came to me with a question. For over six months they have been trying to solve a problem that they thought up. It goes something like this. You have a paragraph with all the spaces and punctuation thrown out. You want to recreate the paragraph using only a dictionary of words. They kept talking about "It was the best of times the worst of times" being parsed as "I twas the best oft i me ..." They didn't want to use anything like sentence construction. They were excited with various forms of searching and backtracking that they had used. I gave them a few ideas for solving the problem and convinced them that any type of greedy scanning (looking for shortest word or longest word) wouldn't work in all cases, so they had to settle for finding the most likely candidates first. They seemed pleased with my suggestions and went on their way. I was plagued with the thought that they had spent six months working on a problem that no one else wanted the solution for (including me). Yet, I had to admire them for living the (albeit nerdy) dream.

Grandchildren are the love affair of old age

I'm reading a book by Reeve Lindbergh called "No More Words" about her mother's last months. She quotes her mother, Anne Morrow Lindbergh, as saying, "Grandchildren are the love affair of old age." I love that - and echo those sentiments. What wonderful, amazing grandchildren I have.

At another point, Reeve says, "When I was grown and had my own daughter, and reveled in the ecstatic connection between me as nursing mother and my baby at my breast, my mother watched and us told me, "it is, of course, the only perfect human relationship."

A good friend loaned me the book, and had underlined her favorite passages. How fun to enjoy it doubly as I see what she loved as well.

What's New?

This has been a week of new experiences. Last night the Utah members of our family went to see Wynton Marsalis at Kingsberry Hall. We agreed to go because everyone else was going, and Brandon was so excited about it. When I heard one of Wynton Marsalis' albums where he sounded like an elephant, I was less that excited. HOWEVER, I really quite enjoyed the performance.

On Saturday, we went to a youth (ages 9-19) Shakespeare performance of MacBeth. Our friends, the Cutlers, had two of their kids in it and they had been very involved in making costumes. I was curious, "What kinds of kids want to do Shakespeare? What kind of adults think that is a good idea?" I don't even like Shakespeare, but I found the whole idea of kids memorizing such complicated lines fascinating. I really enjoyed seeing the kids get into their parts. It was fun!

Shocked Disbelief

I gave my RS lesson today - taken from Todd Christofferson's CES talk. There was one quote I added that I just love.

Ann Kidd Taylor ( with Sue Monk Kidd) (Traveling with Pomegranates) Right before I left on that college study tour to Greece, my boyfriend of four years, the one I thought I would marry, called and broke up with me. Out of nowhere.

“One day you’ll find someone and he’ll be the luckiest guy in the world,” he told me. I think he intended for this to make me feel better, but come on, the luckiest guy in the world and he didn’t want to be that guy. I sat on the blue sofa in the apartment in a state of shocked disbelief— what birds must feel after flying into windowpanes. That was followed by a period of pure heartache.


I loved that thought. It seems like I've been hitting a lot of windowpanes lately. Shocked disbelief is definitely the feeling.

Traveling with Greg

Traveling with Greg is like a step back in time – when all things were possible, life held nothing but grand alternatives, and energy level posed no barrier. Traveling with a sixty one year old man is cautious, measured, and predictable. Traveling with Greg is limitless. He studies the Lonely Planet guidebook and maps out the day. People stop him multiple times to ask directions. Of all the people on Roman streets, they pick him to query. Is it the confidence that he exudes? Is it his six foot five frame that gives him the edge over the rest of the crowd? Is it his clothing that speaks of comfort with his surroundings? Is it his travel bag slung over his shoulder or the map committed to memory that evokes trust?

As we look for a deli with authentic Italian food, Greg studies the menu not just the food in the window. He concludes, “Too much of a tourist trap. A real Italian restaurant wouldn’t serve egg drop soup.” We settle on an incredible restaurant at a fraction of the 70 Euro price we see at many sites. When interacting with the waiter, he never misses the meaning despite the thick accent.

He travels like a seasoned tourist – devouring multiple plates of food at the all you can eat breakfast at the hotel, pocketing the packaged toast and Nutella for a snack, and filling his own water bottle (rather than paying upwards of five dollars a bottle for ‘water without gas’ available on the streets).

Having read the guidebook, he is able to give insight on whatever you are viewing – from the concrete used in the Pantheon to the reasons for the caverns under the Colosseum. He is a delightful traveling companion. How lucky I am that he volunteered to come along.

Wishes on Trevi Fountain

At Trevi Fountain, you throw in a coin for good luck. Legend has it that you should throw two coins over your shoulder into the fountain; one coin grants your wish and the other ensures your eventual return to Rome. I only threw one coin - so I guess I'm not coming back, but I wished for all of you - so if good things start to happen, you'll know why. They say they recover $4500 per day from the fountain! That's good luck to somebody.

Blessing from the Pope

We wen to the Vatican today - as that is where the hotel shuttle bus drops us off. The Vatican was the first place we visited when we arrived. We saw the Sistine chapel and Vatican museum with virtually no lines. Today, however, was a totally different story. There were people snaked around the outside wall of the Vatican for blocks. As we walked to the Castel Sant'Angeloacross from the Vatican, we faced waves of people making their way to the center of the courtyard to receive blessings from the Pope. Greg asked it I thought I needed blessings from the Pope, but I was happy to leave more for the others who clamored for a prime position.

The Castel was amazing. A woman I met on the plane to Atlanta said it was one of her favorite things in Rome. I liked it as well. It was more "put together" than some of the other sites.

After seeing Trevi Fountain, Plazza Navona, and the Pantheon, we had a wonderful Italian lunch on the street - Ravioli and Brechetta. Yum!












Outside the Pantheon

Inside the Pantheon

Piazza Navona

Colosseum

If I had only seen Gladiator - the whole Colosseum day would have been better. But even without the benefit of the movie, it was an awesome place.

Ah ha!

I just had an "ah ha" moment. I have figured out why my sister-in-law, Lori, can spend days with Photoshop. It is SO AWKWARD to use. I just spent over an hour to add a wordle (of my Relief Society lesson) to an image of a loaf of bread for a handout. I'm using Elder Christofferson's talk on "Give Us This Day our Daily Bread", but combining the images was PAINFUL. I sure hope it gets easier, because nothing about this is obvious.

Rome here I come...

I head to Rome within the week for a conference. In searching for a guidebook, when I found this "Lonely Planet" book dedicated just to Rome, I remembered Stephanie's fiance always referring to the Lonely Planet. So, Gabe, I'm trusting you on this one.

The book has already been good luck. Greg saw it on the counter and volunteered to come with me. It should be a great time.

Dot to dot

I have been reading several books by Sue Monk Kidd. In an early book, Firstlight, she says that she keeps one of those dot-to-dot pictures, a gift from a four-year-old, on her desk. A complicated picture is formed by simply moving the pencil from dot to dot – in many cases, the "artist" does not even know what she is drawing. On days when I can’t see where my life is going or tremble at the fears of the unknown, I cling to that image and tell myself, “Dot to Dot. You do not need to solve everything at once. Just move to the next dot.”

In a recent CES fireside address, Elder Christofferson's message was similar.He states, "In the 1950s my mother survived radical cancer surgery, but difficult as that was, the surgery was followed with dozens of painful radiation treatments in what would now be considered rather primitive medical conditions. She recalls that her mother taught her something during that time that has helped her ever since: “I was so sick and weak, and I said to her one day, ‘Oh, Mother, I can’t stand having 16 more of those treatments.’ She said, ‘Can you go today?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Well, honey, that’s all you have to do today.’ It has helped me many times when I remember to take one day or one thing at a time.” I love that.

Remembering Great Grandma Hurst

While the grandkids do not remember Great Grandma Hurst, I like to think of the joy she must get looking down and seeing them play trains on her oak table. In her home, the table held a place of honor in her living room - a remembrance of the styles and values of her childhood. Seeing them play with trains and enjoy books reminds me of my mother and the things she loved most - relationships, children, and education.

Jello Water Eggs

Baths have always been a fun time with the grandkids. The bath toys are a motley collection - play food, kitchen toys, travel squirt bottles, an over-sized spider that Drew does NOT allow in the water, and a jello mold for Easter eggs. I started to explain that my Mother had given the pink plastic jello mold to the kids. You filled it from the top, set the jello, and then had to unmold it by placing it in hot water. I told Brooke and Drew that it never worked very well. Either it would get stuck or you would leave it too long, creating watery jello eggs. Drew thought Jello Water Eggs sounded great. So we would submerge the egg tray under water to fill it. Then, I would swing the tray, flipping water over everyone and singing

I'm going to school with my jello water eggs
I'm going to school with my jello water eggs
I'm going to school with my jello water eggs
OHHH, what happened? All my jello water eggs are gone.

Drew would laugh and laugh, pointing to my wet shirt,and clamoring, "Again, Again."

Here is a picture of Brooke with the tray for Jello Water Eggs.

After bath, Brooke heads to the closet to begin the fashion show with Grandma's shoes and her fancy dress.

Drew found matching boots and insisted they be zipped up.

Drew, looking absolutely angelic.

Remembering Christmas

I am gathering information for my writing class. Does anyone have REAL pictures of the items I mention or other memories??

.............................

I can’t think of Christmas without thinking of my Mother. Mother was a large lady with an even larger personality. She had a ready laugh, and when you were with her, you felt like the most important person to her. Christmas was her holiday.

Christmas 2005

The house was always decorated for the holidays, with new decorations added each year. She was quite a sale shopper, so what went on half-off sales after Christmas adorned our living room the next year. In the early years, many of the decorations were homemade. Dad (who taught computer science) provided the punch cards for the wreath that was stapled and spray painted gold or silver.

Many years she made wreathes of wrapped candy.

Her sucker tree was always popular.

I loved the houses she made of sugar cubes and always thought I would get to eat them after Christmas, but it never seemed to happen.

Gingerbread houses were another family favorite. She didn’t cheat and use graham crackers, but painstakingly baked the gingerbread on jelly roll pans and cut it to shape. The pieces were glued together with a cooked sugar that looked (and tasted) nasty, but was sturdy.

Mom and Dad got lots of Christmas cards and would attach them to the walls as decorations.

Chocolate dipping was a huge endeavor. Mom spent hours and hours making mints, cherry chocolates, peanut clusters, turtles, and caramels. Plates were delivered to all the neighbors. It was important to her that, as adults, we children carried on the tradition.







Mom loved a flocked tree and would spend hours decorating it. Sometimes the kids would help by literally throwing the icicles at the tree.

We went to two Christmas trees shortly after that – where we had a kid’s tree with our homemade ornaments in the basement, but the “show tree” with her lovely things filled the living room.
Later, her love of Christmas took on a more sophisticated look as she had expensive ornaments, a village that filled the living room, and beautiful nativity sets from all over the world.




Acting out the nativity was done every Christmas Eve.

On Christmas Eve, we had a big family dinner and were allowed to open one gift. You waited for the nod from Mom so you didn’t waste your “one gift” opening up underwear or socks. We put out our Christmas stockings and set out a plate of sugar cookies and milk for Santa. Dad would read the Christmas Story from the bible as the kids acted out the nativity scene. We went to bed with strict instructions NOT to get up until we could see our hand in front of our face. On Christmas morning, I would be awakened in the dead of night with my older brother saying, “I think I can see my hand in front of my face. Can you?” We would sneak into the living room to examine our Santa gifts (which were always unwrapped). When the noise got too loud, my father would come in and yell, “My Lordy, it is 2 a.m.. Go back to bed.” When we were allowed to finally get up, we first played with our presents from Santa and then looked for treasures from our stockings. Eventually, someone would suggest that we open the wrapped gifts from parents, siblings, and grandparents. Those gifts were usually more practical than the Santa gifts. I used to wonder why I got such nice gifts from Santa who barely knew me (as I was much too shy to enjoy sitting on his lap) and such boring gifts from my parents (who I knew loved me dearly).

Over the years, mother never lost her love of Christmas. As shopping became more difficult, QVC became her best friend. She had her credit card number memorized and was constantly retrieving packages from the front porch. As she aged, the grandkids were her favorite to shop for. Often her children got a generous check (as I think she secretly wanted to spend their wealth before she died), but the grandkids always got something to open. Recent grandchild gifts were a picture of the temple (for those who were married), various items for the Demdaco Willow Tree nativity sets each married granddaughter was collecting, and a wind up dog for a twenty-something grandson who complained he never got to have the dog he always wanted as a child.



Mom often gave the grandchildren ornaments. When Greg complained that he didn’t seem to have his ornaments from grandmother, the next Christmas he opened up a box of wooden ornaments from her collection. On each she had marked, “Greg, Christmas 1983” or “Greg, 1984”. We all got a good laugh out of the collection of “memory” ornaments.


Mom loved giving. When the family was young, funds were tight, but Mom would save all year just to be able to have a picture perfect Christmas. She loved figuring out what each child and grandchild would want. She loved shopping. She loved the cooking. She loved Christmas in all its glory. How did she keep the love of Christmas in tough economic times or with the chaos of grandbabies, late night movies, and loss of sleep? How did she keep the joy alive through old age, sickness, and the loss of her mate? That secret died with her. I think it was part of her Christmas magic.

Yiddish proverb: “If you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans.”

After getting our Christmas letter, a dear Jewish friend from Fort Collins just sent an email to tell of us his concern for our family and that he was praying for us. He was our department head. He writes:

Receiving your Holiday Letter took me back some decades to the time that Lori and Kim first became ill, and, I believe, had their spleens removed. It’s odd but I still remember praying for them during the time at our Sabbath service where prayers are said on behalf of those who are ill. I don’t think I’ve mentioned this to you before, but as I’ve gotten older, and maybe more understanding, I’ve appreciated how much it means to me when somebody tells me they’ve prayed for me or a family member. Yesterday, I again prayed for Lori and Kim during our Sabbath service. A lot of memories were brought back.

We have been so blessed to have such good friends. The proverb is his.

No fond farewells here

It is the last day of 2010. I'm glad to see it go. I have a friend who blogs about her cancer, saying she is grateful for what it has taught her. She comments that she has had an "interesting" life. She is truly an angel. I am made of much less seraphic material.

2010 has been a bad year for a host of reasons one doesn't post on their blog. As we drive out of 2010, I'm glad to see it in my rear view window.

Think to Thank

As I sorted through the small pile of Christmas cards and letters that were sent this year, I was impressed with the ones sent just to thank.


A letter from a family we had helped by donating to their son's mission fund.  [I actually had no idea they even knew we donated.  It must be a policy of the new bishop, as we've donated lots of times and never been thanked.  I thought the donations were normally anonymous.]

A card and gift certificates from a family we gave money do when the Dad was out of work.

A thank you from a neighbor we had recently brought treats to and visited in the hospital.

A letter from a family we had supported by sending letters to their son who is in youth facility.

We also got this cute beaded Santa Claus as a Thank You from a Chinese student whom Steve had helped. Her mother had made it.

One of the cards I get each year is from a former Young Woman of mine.  I'll call her Anne.  She is an amazing woman.  She is bright, athletic, loving, talented.  She used to babysit for us and was the most favorite babysitter.  Because of my connection to her in Young Women, I was aware of some social challenges she faced. I never think of her without thinking of the (holocaust survivor and Nobel Peace Prize winner) Elie Wisesel quote, "The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference."  When she was in Young Women's, the mothers in the ward took turns driving the youth to early morning seminary.  With Anne in the car, the others would talk about dates, parties, and social events that did not include Anne.  While she was never actively mistreated, others were just indifferent to her feelings.  It was a very tough time for her.


So in the spirit of thanking and noticing ...

Thanks to all my kids for traveling to Boise for Christmas.  Kim was unable to travel because of her intense back pains, but the kids volunteered to travel to Boise, lugging gifts and Santa's bags with them.  It was a very sweet gesture.

Thanks for the lovely and thoughtful gifts - a food processor, knife set, universal remote, clothes, computer bag, a beautiful calendar, handmade ornaments.

Thanks of the friends who have listened to and supported me through my many melt downs.

Thanks to the amazing people who made the ward Christmas party happen. 

Christmas Morning

Ben, Chelle and Greg displaying the chapstick secreted into their stocking.

Halle loved unwrapping.

Trisha with her new "travel" camera.

Prissy in her glory.

Halle the diva.

Christmas Eve

Halle glamour shot.

Who needs a gingerbread house with all this candy?

Brandon, David, and Zach plan their architecture.

Kim and David the finished product.

Chelle and Ben with gingerbread home and car...

Minute to Win it. Steve and David in hot competition.