Chirstmas Countdown December 4th

1 Nephi 11:14-17, 20-23

14 And it came to pass that I saw the heavens open; and an angel came down and stood before me; and he said unto me: Nephi, what beholdest thou?
15 And I said unto him: A virgin, most beautiful and fair above all other virgins.
16 And he said unto me: Knowest thou the condescension of God?
17 And I said unto him: I know that he loveth his children; nevertheless, I do not know the meaning of all things.

20 And I looked and beheld the virgin again, bearing a child in her arms.
21 And the angel said unto me: Behold the Lamb of God, yea, even the Son of the Eternal Father! Knowest thou the meaning of the tree which thy father saw?
22 And I answered him, saying: Yea, it is the love of God, which sheddeth itself abroad in the hearts of the children of men; wherefore, it is the most desirable above all things.
23 And he spake unto me, saying: Yea, and the most joyous to the soul.

Christmas Countdown

Hi, Happy Holidays!

A few years ago I came up with a Christmas countdown that shared scriptures of the prophecies of Christ's birth.  I enjoyed doing it, and taking some time each day to think about the Savior, and to remember that God keeps his promises to us all was a good reminder for my poor, sometimes weak, soul.  I've decided to do it again this year.  I'm hoping to be able to find something for every day...you'll forgive me if I miss one or two along the way.  Here's todays scripture.

Isaiah 9:6-7: "For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace.

'Of the increase of his government and peace there shall be no end..."

Hope you all have a blessed Christmas season.
You are loved.

A Brand New Season

Hey!  I'm writing a blog post for the first time since June.  I don't know that anyone will even read this anymore, it's been so long.  Still, I'm going to send this post out there and see what happens.  Let's do a recap of the summer.  Spoiler Alert!  It's been rumored that I die at the end of this episode.  I don't.

It was a good summer. Nothing unusual or particularily spectacular, but that's okay.  Spectacular should be used rarely, too often and the glitz wears off.  I did take a trip back to Minnesota, and it was great.  Let's take one step back - in the beginning of this year my parents decided to sell their home in Moorhead and move to southern Minnesota where they'll be closer to my two youngest brothers and their families.  Their house went up for sale a day or two before I arrived.  It had never been so immaculate!  And, it had to stay that way, ready for anyone come through the door to see it at any time.  I like to resort to my teenage self and throw my clothes all over the floor of my room when I'm at home, but not this time. 

The move also meant that it was likely my last trip to the old stomping grounds.  My parents sold the farm that I grew up on about 10 years ago and moved into town, so I said goodbye to my childhood home then.  This move didn't make me as sentimental as that one did, but still, I wanted to go to some of my favorite places one more time.  We drove out to Glyndon, the little town where I went to school, and drove past the elementary and high school.  It has been remodeled since I was there, but some of it is still the same, like the windows all in a straight row along the elementary school. You look at them and can picture the classrooms on the other side.  I love looking at something like thos windows; something that I haven't seen in years, and had forgotten about, but when I look at them again they're instantly familiar. 

We down the main drag through town, which now has one stop light, which I swore I'd never stop at (twenty years driving through that town without stopping, I'm not going to do it now!).  I had a job at the Tastee Freeze on that street all through my high school years.  While we were driving I mentioned stopping there, to which Mom answered that it was closed.  What?  I was stunned, but not as much as I was when we drove passed that corner and found that the building had been torn down.  Gone!  Nothing but an old slab of cement where the Tastee Freeze used to be.  It was so strange to have a landmark of my childhood and teenage years wiped out like that, and I thought that I was for the first time experiencing a sign of getting older - places I knew disappearing.  I wish that it were still there.  Even though I'll probably never be in Glyndon again, I wish that I could still picture it standing there. 

After Glyndon, we drove out to the old farm.  I don't know how many of you have moved far away from the place where you grew up, but those who have will know what it's like to suddenly have that "home" feeling back again.  I don't know that any place you live has as much of a lasting effect on the soul as the place where you spent your childhood.  I've been away now for more than 20 years, but when I'm back there the grass and trees, the smells in the air, even the way the breeze blows feels like home.  I don't know how to describe it.  We drove down the gravel road toward the farm, and it was suddenly 1982 again, and I was 12, and it was all the same. 

We don't really know the people who live in our old house now, so we didn't go onto the property, just stopped on the road and took a look at it from there, and I took this picture.  Some of those trees were either babies or didn't exist when we lived there.  You can stick a pencil in the ground in Minnesota and you'll soon have a tree.

This is the view back down the road.  Wow, I've taken more space to talk about Glyndon and and farm than I intended to, got a little nostalgic I guess.  My time in Minnesota also included a Sivertson family reunion, always a good time!  I think most of the 4 of you who read this blog are also facebook friends and will have seen pictures there, so I'll skip it here.  After the reunion my parents and I went to Rochester for a couple of days with Courtney's family, always a good time.  Lets share some more pictures.

Mom and Amalia

 

Michael, Matthew, Jake, Josie and Jonny at the science museum

 

 Olivia at the zoo

 

Amalia, Spencer and Drew 

 

 That's what I did on my summer vacation.

And now it's fall, my favorite season.  I do have some new developments to share, but you'll have to come back for the new season of the blog to find out what those are. 

In the meantime a word to the wise - when at the park, it's not a good idea to let the kids run up the wrong end of the slide.  There's a ladder for going up, and a slide for going down, and mixing those two up is an accident with injuries waiting to happen.  I learned this with my nephews just the other day.  So use proper park safety precautions, enjoy the fall air, and remember - you are loved.

 

 

The End of an Era

Last Friday Savannah and I went out for dinner and shopping for her birthday.  It's a tradition that we started years ago.  Actually it doesn't seem like that many years, but it must have been because Savannah just turned 18. 

You remember the girls, yes?  Barry's three daughters.  Some of you who used to work with me at the store will remember their little faces coming to visit every so often.  Others will have heard way too many stories and seen way too many pictures.  They were cute, huh?  Well that's all over now because they've grown up.  I wrote Sierra's eulogy when she went off to college; Mariah's when she graduated from high school, and now Savannah.  I guess she's still cute, for a little while.

Savannah was 3 months old when I moved back to Salt Lake after coming home from my mission.  Such a beautiful baby, and so quiet.  I stayed with Barry and Melody for a few months while looking for an apartment, and slept on a mattress in her room.  On babysitting nights, while the other two ran wild instead of going to bed, Savannah laid quietly on a blanket in the living room waiting for her turn.  I'd go in, see her there, and say, "Oh! Savannah!" then pick her up to cuddle and talk for a while.

Another night, when she was a toddler, I was babysitting again, and this time she was the one who didn't want to go to bed.  She said that she was scared of the monsters in the closet.  I said no, there weren't any monsters in there.  She insisted that of course there were, so I picked her up and carried her to the closet for an inspection.  We took a good look and then I said, "See, no monsters."  She looked at me and said, "Let's go check out on the couch."  Well played, but her move to get out of her bedroom did not work, and she was soon asleep. 

And now she's grown up.  Not as cuddly as she used to be, sometime during middle school she decided that she didn't like hugs.  Ridiculous.  I've been fighting that ever since, and she endures me with the same quiet fortitude that got her through those baby years.  She has a kind heart, a sharp brain, and great sense of humor, and her head on straight, pointed forward.  I really, really love her.  Come January she will be with the other two at BYU-Idaho.  Barry and Melody will be empty nesters.  It's hard to believe.  

I decided some years ago that I would stop buying birthday presents after the kids turned 18 because with so many kids now I had to draw a line somewhere.  But with each one I've been a little sad when that last present was bought.  And Friday, as I drove away from Savannah's house, I couldn't help tearing up a little knowing that not only was it her last birthday outing, but that those years with the girls are done.  It is the end of an era.  A really great era.  I hope they still remember me when they're 100.

It is Kind of Funny

I was at Marla’s on Sunday afternoon, and of course spent most of the time following William around. We went into the backyard where he showed me their garden and a big pile of fertilizer that they had just had delivered. He said, “That’s cow poop.”  Ha, I started to giggle, and told him not to climb in the pile of cow poop. He agreed, in all seriousness.

William has a friend about his same age who lives in the house on the other side of the backyard fence. We’ll call him Olie. While we were in the yard he spotted Olie and started hollering to him. He ran over to a lawn chair that was very strategically placed right up against the fence, climbed up on the seat, the arm, and then to the top of the very back of the chair where he could just reach the top of the fence and pull his little chin over it. From there he and Olie had a shouting match that only they could understand. Every now and then he’d turn around and repeat to me what was going on over the fence. Olie has a little dog named Sadie. She showed up in their backyard and William hollered at her, and then turned to me to tell me about Sadie, and then he said…

“Sadie poops EVERYWHERE!” It was the beginning of a rant of gibberish that was so cute I couldn’t stop laughing.

William stopped and looked at me, almost in disgust, “Poop’s not funny, G.”

“I’m sorry. You’re right.”

He explained to me with all of his 4-year old exuberance exactly why poop isn’t funny, including something about it getting on his foot.  All from the top of his chair, up against the fence.

There was another time when we were talking on the phone that he went off on something going on in their house. I don’t remember now what it was, but he had strong feelings. I was laughing, of course, because he’s adorable, until he stopped the discussion to ask me what I was laughing at. I guess I’ll have to take him more seriously from now on. But look, look at how cute he is! How can I help it?

His 4th birthday, and yes that is a Legos garbage truck on his cake, and it was awesome.

I’m in a new class with BYU-Idaho (online) in my life-long attempt to finally finish my degree. It’s a research and writing class, and we are asked to pick a topic that we will work and re-work for the entire semester. I’ve decided to look into the post-World War II history of Korea. As most of you know, my sister, and William’s mom, Marla was born in Korea and spent a few years in an orphanage there until my parents adopted her in 1975. She has vague memories of her life there. I’ve decided to use this opportunity to really learn about what was going on in the country at the time, and to understand the world she was living in. If the final paper is worth printing then I’ll put it into a book for her and her boys. I love Marla so much. She’s one of my greatest blessings, and I don’t know why I didn’t do something like this sooner.

In other news, and kind of related because Marla went to this event with me, my good friend Joel hosted a backyard concert at his home on Sunday. He sang several songs that he had written and recorded with Afterglow, all about faith and hope in the Savior. It was a beautiful evening, perfect weather, good music, all very, very nice.

It seems that the blogging world is fading. I don’t post much anymore, and neither do most of you, my friends. But, I keep looking for news from you, and will still share things here and there.

Thanks, as always, for checking in. You are loved.

This is Only a Test

Sometime last week employees of the COB got handouts telling us about an upcoming earthquake drill and how to respond to it. There were pictures with urgent labels telling us to Drop! Cover! Hold On! and pictures of a friendly stick-mail office worker getting under a desk and gripping it for dear life. Monday we were told in a staff meeting that the drill would be today, Tuesday, at 10:15, and that we all had to participate. The members of the Emergency Response Team would be coming around to see that we were all under our desks and holding on before giving the all clear. One of the older men asked if there would also be someone coming around to get him out from under his desk. Ha Ha, oh wait… I think that was a serious question.


This morning everyone was abuzz about the 10:15 drill, “What if I’m on the phone?!” “Do I really want the computer over my head?” I actually started thinking through the whole thing and taking a good look under my desk. There are two power strips under there, and a lot of power cords for the computer and the phone. Is a dark hole of potential sparking, fizzing, smoke and high voltage really where I want to be in an emergency? I found a corner back behind me (my cubicle/desk wraps around like the letter C), where there’s an open spot free from cords and other dangers, and made mental note to dive in that direction. What a relief.

We have a coworker here who spends at least half of his day wandering around the floor visiting everyone, opening up closed doors and sticking his head in, asking where everyone is, and yapping away with anyone who will pretend to listen. I think he thinks that he’s taking care of business, but really he’s just a busy-body. A few minutes before the drill, I was walking down the hall and saw him in someone’s office talking, and wondered just whose office he would be in when the alarm sounded, and will that person be willing to share cover under his or her desk? The two of them wrapped up in fetal positions, nose to nose… I kind of doubt it. Cheryl gave me a definite no when I asked her.

10:15, appointed drill time, came and we were ready. We heard something like a bell, and then a voice over the PA telling us that this was a drill, and would everyone please drop and take cover. We did. Cheryl’s desk is right next to mine, we share a cubicle wall. We were scrunched down with our faces in the same corners and I heard her say, “Are we allowed to talk?” Everything went dead quiet. I said, “It’s so quiet in here!” “It really is.” I kept picturing Cheryl on the other side of the wall, all curled up. We were like two prisoners in damp cells quietly sending signals to each other, letting each other know that we weren’t alone. Also, we were like two grown women in skirts scrunched up under our desks trying not to choke to death on the dust, which is a less romanticized, more accurate picture.

After about a minute we got the all clear to come back out into the light of day. Just as I was straightening up, there’s our busy-body with a camera! “Oh, you were too fast. I didn’t get your picture.” What? Why? The only picture he would have gotten would have been of my derriere. Why on earth? This guy just gets weirder every day. It’s a good thing he didn’t take that picture or he would have lost his camera, and maybe an eye.

I asked if we should go down to the second floor where some of our good senior is to see if got out from under his desk, but no one did. Maybe he’s still there? And now I have a pain in my back, just under my right shoulder blade, which has to be the result of being in a fake earthquake. I’ll go talk to my HR rep and start the paperwork.

I actually do think that the drill was a good idea, all ridiculousness aside.  We're on a fault line, and an earthquake will hit someday.  We have to know how to act when it does.  And I've got my corner, away from the power cords.

A Birthday in San Diego

I have for years wanted to go to the coast for my birthday.  This year Melody and I finally did it.  Much thanks, up front, to the Fabulous Melody for booking the flights and the hotel.  She's one of the best things that ever happened to me.  And she has a friend who gives us a deal at Marriott.  We had a bay view room on the 23rd floor, so swanky.

Breakfast every morning was at the Broken Yolk Cafe.  The food was good; we could walk from the hotel, and it had this awesome fan.   

After Eggs Benedict under the Big Ass Fan, we took a trolley tour of San Diego, with a stop in Balboa Park.  See the lovely Spanish architecture.

The botanical gardens in the park grew the prettiest orchids I've ever seen.  

Back on the San Diego port.   

On our second day we took the ferry across the bay to Coronado Island.  When I took this picture of Melody she said that it better not end up on Facebook.  She said nothing about the blog.

Coronado Beach

My toes in the water.   

The beach was gold, literally gold, white sand full of gold flecks, shimmery, iridescent, and indescribably beautiful. We spent the afternoon reading, walking in the water, reading some more, eating, chasing a seagull away from our leftovers (Melody did the chasing), and getting the worst sunburn I've had in years. Strange, we didn't even think about the chance of sunburn. It's March. It was a nice cool day.  We were wearing shorts and t-shirts, so fully clothed, and yet we were both flaming red by the end of the day. Best way to get a sunburn ever.

Coronado Beach is the setting for the Marilyn Monroe, Jack Lemmon, Tony Curtis movie "Some Like it Hot".  This is the Hotel del Coronado, also in the film.  It's gorgeous.  The trolley tour man said that the wood was shipped down from Northern California by boat, and that it's the largest coastal, wood hotel in the world. 

We got home last night, exhausted, sore, relaxed and happy.  Happy Birthday to me.

For My Cousins

My cousin and her husband recently lost their little boy, Drake.  He was born with cardiomyopathy (a heart condition) and died a few days later.  He was a fighter.  The doctors didn't expect him survive through her pregnancy.  He just kept holding on, and I was beginning to think that he was really going to make it.  My cousin and her husband handled everything with so much strength, an inspiration to all of us.  This is a little something I wrote for them.

Drake

Born to a mother and father whose love sustained him
Beyond all expectations,
Drake had a valiant spirit
Determined to have its small piece of this life

Before going on
Into the arms of the Lord,
To be cherished there
In his home in heaven,

Cherished by grandparents,
Great-grandparents, all those
Who have gone
On before him.

These great souls
Who see their children’s generations,
Who are angels
Watching over them,

Now have Drake in their midst,
So small, with the sweetest face,
So dearly loved,
So painfully missed,

Yet given over to God
By his parents with unshaken faith,
Showing their beautiful,
Gracious strength,

Supported by God,
By family,
By friends,
By generations of love,

And by Drake’s love
Radiating to them from heaven,
Giving them a tie
To eternity

Season's Greetings

It’s going to be a quiet Christmas for me this year. I will go to church and then to Barry and Melody’s for dinner. Actually, I might go to church with them before dinner. That might be nice. The Utah siblings always get together on Christmas Eve. It carries on one of the best things from Christmases when we were kids.

Christmas Eve was a big deal. We had a traditional dinner of spare ribs and potatoes with some vegetables mixed in, and mom always made lutefisk for dad. I think that Dad grew up with Christmas Eve spare ribs, and that’s why we had them. If you’ve never had lutefisk on your dinner plate, then count yourself lucky. It’s pretty vile. I don’t know why the Norwegians would sully Christmas with such a horrible food, but then again winter is very cold in Norway and dark for 20 of the 24 hours in a day, and that does something to the psyche. Lutefisk is cod or any other whitefish, dried and salted and mixed with lye. Its name literally means "lye fish." Don’t ask me, I don’t get it either, but dad loves the stuff. He pours melted butter on that jelly looking glob and eat it up. I can still see the butter on his chin.

After dinner we opened presents from our grandparents, aunts and uncles. Oh the joy of a child ripping into boxes that she’s sat by the tree and stared at, held and shaken, hoped to “accidently” rip the corner of paper off of just to get a peak, and driven her mother crazy to open just one a day early. Finally, FINALLY it was time to open presents, sheer exhilaration. I loved Christmas Eve almost more than Christmas day then, so it’s very nice that Aaron, Barry, Marla and I and their families still get together to celebrate.

I feel very content this year. It’s nice to feel the Christmas spirit again. I don’t know why I’m so much happier than I’ve been during Christmases past. I’m still single, still no children, still working retail (oh the horror), but nothing about that seems so bad this time. In fact, it isn’t bad at all. Maybe I’m maturing. Whatever it is, I’m happy with what I have and not so worried about the rest, and that’s a wonderful gift.
Have a very happy holiday season!

You are loved.

A Gift Idea

This year I bought an advent calendar from Jacquie Lawson, a website with e-cards and other fun, gifty things.  I absolutely love it!  I've sent a few off as gifts to friends hoping that they have as much fun as I've had.  Here's the link http://www.jacquielawson.com/advent/london?source=jl510.  They calendars are beautiful, inexpensive, and easy to send off.  If you're like me, you'll get two for yourself so that you can have one on every computer.

Let's Review

I have not been on here for awhile. And since none of you have anything better to do than sit and wait for a post from me, I’m sure this has been a difficult few weeks. I am sorry. Here’s a recap.


Thanksgiving was perfect. Mom and Dad were in town; girls were home from school; we ate and played games and enjoyed general merriment. Any day that ends with cheese ball has to be counted a good.

William and Jonah slept at my house that night because Marla had to work early in the morning. Any day that starts with William’s sweet face nose-to-nose with mine as he climbs into my bed has to be counted as good.

Jonah’s birthday is tomorrow. Remember the gift-giving episode of last year? Well, his excitement/fixation/mania/panic started even earlier this year. So we struck a deal – I would give him his gift from me if he’d lay off the constant talk about nothing else, and keep his mother from losing her mind. He agreed, and got his Lego Star Wars kit. I don’t know that he has behaved perfectly since, but Marla said the pressure on her has come down, with a few outbursts here and there. Of course, no nine-year old (ten tomorrow!) boy can go without some slips.

Speaking of slips, I have done pretty well without the Diet Coke. The first couple of weeks were great, but on Thanksgiving Day I sank like a drunken pirate with his rum. I had planned to have a soda on the holiday. I think that “a soda” turned into a 2 liter bottle of soda – I can’t be sure. It’s all very vague.

Back on track and Coke-free now, though, and feeling pretty good.

And now it’s Christmas time. Barry, Melody, Savannah and I went to the First Presidency’s Christmas Devotional last night. It was wonderful, as always. Melissa and I bought a Christmas tree on Saturday, and have done other decorating to make the apartment festive and cozy. I’ve got cards to send, and am mostly done with shopping. The bookstore is getting busy, but manageable. I’m determined not to let anything that happens in the retail world make me grumpy this year. Christmas is too beautiful.

What a Bad Idea

I want a Diet Coke so bad.  Whose dumb, *&#@, &&$%#%$%#%*&#@#& idea was this?


In other news, my boxed set, Harry Potter: The Complete Collection Years 1-7 shipped today, so that's something to look forward to.  If only I could enjoy a Diet Coke while watching it..... (sniff)...... Honestly!  Who did this?!

The End of the World as I Know It

I’ve come to a decision that has me a bit shaken. It will change life as I know it. I’m going to lay off the Diet Coke for a while. I know! I can hear the sharp intake of breathe, your cry of shock, and you haven’t even read this yet.


Diet Coke is an enormous part of who I am, of my being, my essence. It’s been my constant friend for more than 20 years. After years and years of denial, I’ve finally come to realize that this is a toxic relationship, addictive, and is doing me more harm than good. I was telling Marla this just this morning, and suggested that she should be my sponsor during addiction recovery, the person I call when I’m about to break, and she said that she’ll do this with me – no Diet Coke (or sodas) until the end of the year.

I feel pretty good about this decision, but I realize that after 20 years on the bottle, I don’t know who I am without it. What kind of Angie will I be after the caffeine, aspartame, caramel color, phosphoric acid and potassium benzoate are gone? I’m thinking that for the first few days I’ll have a screaming headache and be madder ‘n hell. Maybe I should go into hiding somewhere during detox for everyone’s benefit? But then, after that, who knows? I might not even remember you people. Heck, you might not be real. It could be that I have spent the last decades in a NutraSweet induced psychosis and completely delusional. You are all in my head, imaginary friends, just like in that movie “A Beautiful Mind”.

I hope Marla’s real. She has to be my sponsor. But, I think she must be because I do have memories of her, and some pictures, from back before Diet Coke came along. We’re okay there.

So, I guess this could be goodbye to the Angie you’ve known so long. If the lack of caffeine doesn’t put me permanently to sleep, then I’ll update the blog, and if you really do exist, please give me a sign. Thanks.

Today It's Still Fall

A Poem, by me

It’s November now, but the trees are holding
On to their yellows, oranges and reds,

The rushing wind whips the leaves that have fallen up off
The ground into whirlwinds around me.

The wind is bringing in the first snow of the new winter.
This warm air is a warning that it’s all about to change,

But not quite yet.
Today I walked through the park with the whirlwinds following me,

And looked up through the bright yellow leaves
Into a brilliant blue sky.

The sunlight came in streams through the branches,
And my heart went soft, peaceful, at rest.

Soon the leaves and trees, the grass and flowers will
All be at rest for the winter,

But not quite yet.
Today it’s still fall, beautiful, delicious, glorious fall.

Halloween was Garbage

William has an obsession with garbage trucks, trucks of all kinds, really, but garbage trucks especially.  Some time ago we went for a walk around the neighborhood on garbage collecting day, and he stood and stared at the trucks lifting the cans and dumping them.  Then he started moving his own arm like the claw, lifting it up over his head.  I don't know if that was the start of all this, but it must have contributed.  He has toy garbage trucks.  He even plays garbage truck.  He'll tear up pieces of paper and throw them on the floor with other junk and then use his claw to pick it all up and drop it on his back behind him.  Funny kid.

When we were getting close to Halloween, William wanted more than anything in the world to be a garbage truck, so Marla got some boxes and made one for him, and it is fantastic, wiper blades, headlights, rear lights, an open back where he could dump his candy, and, as fate would have it, the letters WM for waste management are also William's initials!  

I got to their house Monday at about 4, and that kid was so excited about Halloween he was jumping around like a pogo stick.  When the trick-or-treaters started knocking on the door he ran at a dead sprint to it to give them candy.  Then he'd watch out the window for more kids, then open the door and yell, "Hey, over here!"  He even wished the kids a happy Halloween.

I had planned to be a bag of garbage to go along with the truck, but William didn't like the idea.  I don't know why, and his language skills are still limited, so he couldn't really tell me why.  Maybe he didn't want anything added to or distracting from his already awesome truck.  There's room for only one garbage costume in that town, and his was it.  But, I did put it on for a few pictures with him using his claw.

And then we went trick-or-treating.

With cute Jonah, he was Luke Skywalker

In other Halloween news, there's a house in Marla's neighborhood that has the best yard display I have ever seen - the best - skeleton pirates with a ship and plenty of loot.  I love it so much.

William wore out after about an hour.  We pushed him for another 30 minutes before going home.  I snagged two Reese's peanut butter cups (my favorite) from my generous nephews, and then went home feeling very happy and fulfilled by the spirit of Halloween.  What a great holiday. 

Hope you all had fun, too!

The Female Hulk

I’m thinking that it’s a good thing that Dr Banner took the serum that turns him into the Hulk instead of his pretty partner taking it, whose name I can’t remember, but she was played by Liv Tyler in the last movie. Can you imagine what it would be like for a woman who becomes the Hulk to get through premenstrual syndrome? Can you imagine what that would do to the world?  It's just too horrible.


I’m feeling Hulk-like as it is. I have the patience of a 3-year old.  The bloating is making me huge.  My eyes turn florescent green with irrational rage without any warning. I want to trash this office leaving in my wake a pile of rubble, sparking computers, small fires. I am more than capable of yelling so loud and so long that it would slam a co-worker up against the wall. And then I would to slink off, alone, to a dark corner where I would lie down and cry myself to sleep, and sleep until it all goes away. Please, just make it go away.

Because You Just Never Know

"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived."
Henry David Thoreau


My heart is a little sore today. Aaron, my oldest brother, and his wife are facing the possible loss of her father. One week ago he was in a biking accident and was taken to the University hospital where he’s been unconscious since. Among his injuries is a severe blow to the head and internal bleeding. His condition is critical, and they may have some hard decisions ahead of them. As so many of you who have lost parents and parents-in-law know it’s a very difficult time.

Despite his sadness, Aaron, always being the big brother, had instructions for me. I said that its mind boggling to think that a person can wake up one morning and everything’s fine, and by the end of the day your whole life has changed, completely. He said, “You have to live deliberately. Make a plan, and then do it.” He’s right. I’ve never bought into the live like it’s the last day of your life mantra because, honestly, it’s so impractical. I have to go to work, do the dishes, and eat my vegetables. But I do believe in finding small, simple, beautiful things to be grateful for, and they exist in every day. And I believe that we are the masters of our souls (Invictus, Herman Ernest Henley). We are in control of our thoughts, behavior, actions, reactions. We decide what to do with our talents, intellect, resources, and with our relationships. So many unpredictable, uncontrollable events can change our lives in an instant, but still we decide how we are going to live our lives whatever the circumstances.

Aaron said another thing that will stick with me, “We need to be kind. You don’t know if the person you see on the street has a parent dying in the hospital.” Typing that out has made me tear up, so I don’t think that I’ll try to say more. I’m sure you understand the point.

Aaron is a very good man. I love him. I admire and respect him, and that almost means more to me than loving him. You have to love your family, but really liking who they are is so, so nice. I’ve learned a lot from his example of faith. My heart aches for Kristi, my sister-in-law, when I think that she has a father who might be dying in the hospital, but I know that the same faith and goodness that has brought them this far will see them through whatever comes next.

I’m sure that prayers would do them good, if you feel so inclined. Just say, “Angie’s brother” or “Aaron and Kristi”. God will know who you’re talking about.

Thanks, You are Loved.

I have a subsrciption to Vanity Fair magazine.  It's pretty good, lots of interesting articles, and while I don't live up to the lifestyles of those featured in the Vanity, it's fun to pretend every once in a while.  My last issue featured a story about letters from Ernest Heminway to family and others that he wrote during his years in Paris.  The letters are fascinating in their descriptions of Paris life, and it was kind of mind-blowing to look at something handwritten by one of our best authors.

Reading this got met thinking, people don't write letters anymore.  It's become a lost art, and I wonder if our history won't be lost with it.  So much of what we know about iconic figures was found in letters and journals, personal writings.  Now we communicate with texts and tweets, or get on Facebook, none of which will be saved.  What will the next generation know about us?  And what will anyone know about the next generation?  It will be interesting to see. 

I think that I've mentioned before that my dad writes to me.  I've kept every letter that he, and mom, have sent.  The way he writes really reflects his personality, and I know that someday, maybe after he's gone, I'll be so glad to have his letters.  I'll show them to others and say, "This is my dad", and I'll read them myself and feel close to him again. 

I'm not trying to convince you all that you have to start writing letters.  I don't do it.  The closest I get is sending a card with a few short lines.  Still, it's important to have something of yourself to share with those who will come after you.  They'll want to know you.  I want to know you.  The blogging world has been nice for that.  It makes me feel like I know you.  And, you can have a blog printed into a book, something that some of my friends have done.  There's something that will last.

Thanks, as always, for checking in with me.  You are loved.

Celebrating 74

Hello All!  As you may know, I went on vacation last week.  Wait, you probably don't know that because I haven't posted anything here for a month.  Gosh all Friday! (a little saying I picked up from my Dad while on vacation)  I flew to Minneapolis on Saturday, Sept 3, where I met Dad, and the two of us drove to Rochester where Courtney and his family live.  Mom had had already been there helping Andrea with her children and their new baby girl.  Olivia Sharon, named after my mom, was born on August 26th.  She's very small and sweet and has cheeks just right for lots of kisses. 

  

September 4th was Mom's 74th birthday.  I set out with Amalia (who was having fits like every good 2-year old should and really needed to get out of the house) to the store for cake and birthday necessities.  When we came to the candles, I debated between getting the numbers 7 and 4, or buying several boxes of individual candles.  The idea of 74 candles really had me, so I bought the boxes.

Once home, I counted out the candles and asked Spencer and Drew to put them on the cake with me.  Spencer asked why we were doing so many, and when I told him that Grandma was 74 years old he got a very puzzled looked.  Drew said that the smoke alarm was going to go off, no questions about that.  But we set to work, and the cake looked good.  Well, actually it looked like a whole mess of candles, but we were happy with it.

After dinner, when it came time to light them, Courtney and I each used one of the longer candles to light the others. The candles were so close to each other that some of the wicks came together and made really tall flames, which created more heat.  Everything melted into rivers of wax running all over the frosting.  I broke a sweat sitting next to it, and Drew reminded us about the smoke detector.  We sang "Happy Birthday" as fast as possible.  It took Mom one good blow and another smaller one to blow them all out.  I was eating my piece and saw a dot of wax that I hadn't scraped off yet.  When I pulled on it a whole candle came up.  Poor thing had been burned right down into the cake.  I admit it was a mess, and next year I'm going with the 7 and 5, but Mom (and I) will remember the year of 74 candles for the rest of our lives.

Other trip events:
Shane, Donna and family spent Labor Day with us, and I learned, much to my dismay, that his boys can't play football.  How does that happen in the Midwest?  Still, it was good fun.

Mom, Dad and I drove to Chicago for a few days with my aunt and her family.  Chicago has the best food in the world!  I have mixed emotions about this because it's so wonderful when we're there, but so sad when I'm here craving that food.

We went to the Field Museum of Natural History.

The city was beautiful.

I found that my aunt's house feels as homey now as it did when I was a kid.

I spent way too much money shopping.

And, I flew home again on September 11th.  Getting through security was much better than expected.

And now I'm back at work.  I feel the need to start writing more, so I'll try to keep this blog going.  I guess that's more of a promise to myself than to you.  Hope you all had a great summer, and happy fall!

Playing with Boys

For the last 10 days I have been at Marla’s house with her 4 boys while she and Mike celebrated their 20th anniversary in Cancun. I was nervous about doing this, not so much about taking care of the boys, but more about being away from home for so long. I have a comfortable place all my own in our little apartment. Staying in someone else’s house isn’t always so comfortable. Where do I sleep? What about the bathroom? Four boys will create a lot of dirty dishes, and dirty dishes really gross me out. The truth is, I’m set in my ways, and like things just so. You don’t get much ‘just so’ in a house full of kids. But, I summoned all of my courage, packed up my stuff, and went to Marla’s. After a couple of days I was settled into the routine, and then started to really like the domestic life. Here are a few highlights, observations, impressions, etc.


Zac and Josh, 16 and 14, are remarkably self-sufficient. Marla has told me many times that they’re okay to take care of things themselves, and she wasn’t lying. My first evening there, Josh fired up the grill and made us all burgers and hot dogs, and they were tasty. Wednesday I came home to find Zac cooking meat for tacos, with homemade salsa. Zac has been doing laundry. Josh got himself packed and out the door this morning for scout camp. Every time I’ve thought that I might need to help with something, I’ve found out that they’ve already done it. Remarkable.

Jonah, 9, is equally responsible. He’s back in school now, and that little boy sets his own alarm clock, gets up and dressed, gets his own breakfast and leaves the house right on time. My first morning there I got up with him and went into the kitchen to get him off to school and ended up wondering why I was there. He didn’t need a thing. Even his backpack was ready to go. After the first couple of mornings I didn’t even try to help. I said hello to him, asked how he was, and then went to the bathroom to get ready for work.

And then there’s William. I’ve never been so in love. With the older boys being so independent, William was really the reason I was there, to take care of him. He’s at a great age. He can talk, and is potty trained (hooray), but still little enough to pick up and squeeze. He’s bossy, and a bit spoiled (who did that I wonder?) and also sweet, and he gets excited about the littlest things, and it’s so much fun. He does like to get into things. I wish, literally wish, that I had a dollar for every time I looked at him and said, “What are you doing?!” The Visa card would be paid off.

Like I said, I’ve gotten very comfortable in my life. It’s simple, and I’ve come to not only like but sometimes revel in being single. All that’s mine is all my own. But, after a week of playing with boys I can see why girls want to get married and have a family. Especially when William comes running to me for a hug and says, “I love you, G.” I know, it’s all very Lifetime Channel made-for-tv-movie, very cliché, but having family is better. It’s better than being on your own. It’s a damned frustrating realization, but one has to face the truth. I’ll have to make Marla leave town again very soon.