tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17231166870746019092024-03-04T21:24:03.906-08:00What I ThinkAll the things that go on in my life and inside my headAnnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00906401217210340529noreply@blogger.comBlogger288125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1723116687074601909.post-26347103004043868972019-06-30T23:18:00.000-07:002019-06-30T23:18:55.667-07:00A Note to My Kids: DaninShuggie Shuggie, How you get so fly? I've realized it may have been better to spell it Shoogie all these years, but oh well. You know what I'm saying. <br />
<br />
Giiiirl...<br />
<br />
Where do I begin? Dan. You are such cool girl. So many times I have watched you and just been struck with what a fun, cool girl you are! You have such a personality! Oh, how I wish I could have been like you when I was young--filled with confidence and talent and wit and feistiness! It's absolutely no wonder you always have a ton of friends because you are just so dang fun.<br />
<br />
You just finished fifth grade with Mr. Jorgensen and will be headed to middle school next year. Say whaaaa??? Because you are who you are, you are super excited. I am not excited. I don't want you to grow up. I want you to be my little sugar plum forever!<br />
<br />
We just got back from our summer trip to Vegas, during which time you went on your 6th grade trip with Nana and Sherri! You got to swim with dolphins! As Nana and Sherri were sending me pictures of it, I knew you were having the time of your life and I was right! When you got home, you told me how much you had loved it and how it is one of the greatest memories of your life. You are so lucky to have such an amazing, generous Nana!<br />
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You continue to love animals soooo much and want a pet more than anything else in this world. And while I truly love this about you, so far Dad and I have not agreed to let you have one. Recently, however, I came as close as ever to relenting. It was just after you had caught that baby bunny in the back yard....<br />
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I can't remember exactly how it happened, but I know that you had been picking weeds under the trampoline and you had a big bowl. Somehow, you had managed to catch a baby bunny under that bowl (is that how it happened?) Regardless, you came running into the house yelling that you had finally caught a bunny! Oh, man! You were so excited. Daddy and I and Skip and Jane all went out back to see it. You lifted the bowl and wen to pick it up, but it managed to scamper away. Luckily, you and Daddy were able to trap it again and Daddy got a hold of it and then handed it to you. You were one very happy girl. You snuggled that bunny and ran around getting water and food for it and then immediately began begging to keep it. Daddy and I didn't know what to say, so we said we thought that would be ok. You were ecstatic. Unfortunately, just a little while later, we began Googling "how to care for a wild baby bunny" and found out that wild baby bunnies will most likely die shortly after having been caught because of the stress it causes them. Upon hearing that, you made the very difficult decision to let your little bunny go. You held and petted it a while longer and then walked out into the middle of the back yard, bent down, and set it free. You were devastated and spent the next several days crying and bemoaning the fact that Dad and I wouldn't let you get a pet. Seeing how happy you were with that bunny and how devastated you were to let it go made me think maybe we SHOULD finally consent to letting you get a pet. I KNOW you would be a loving, responsible pet owner. You've certainly proven that. But when I approached Daddy with it again, he was still adamant about not getting one. I'm sorry Shuggie. I truly look forward to the day when you DO get your first pet. You really are amazing with animals. <br />
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You are also SO good with little kids. You LOVE to babysit and went around last school year begging all of your teachers with little kids to go on dates so that you could babysit. And when you DID babysit, you did SUCH a good job. I was so proud of you!! You are only 11, but handled everything like a pro! You changed and fed the babies and entertained the kids all on your own without my having to worry about anything. Wow. <br />
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In the last several months, you managed to save your own money to go on two horse rides up at C&M stables and I was so proud of you for doing that. You are interested in a million other things as well. You are still doing gymnastics and often go early and/or stay late to help Deena and Brit with the other classes. You also played soccer and basketball this year and were one of the leading players on both teams. You tell me you are going to try track this coming school year so that will be exciting to watch as well! You are one STRONG girl, and always have been. You've always been able to make it to the top of the rope at the gym and recently--while waiting to obtain a physical at the middle school, you challenged a bunch of boys to arm wrestle you and beat them all. I wasn't surprised to hear it. :)<br />
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Along with your big personality, you're can also be pretty dramatic from time to time. When you're tired and get worked up about something, it can turn into a mess pretty quickly sometimes. I think you have the loudest, biggest tears I have ever seen. Ha!<br />
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So many times I have also been astonished at your level of integrity. I have watched you work through conflict with your friends and stand up for what you believe in. Recently, I went upstairs to watch TV and found that someone had been watching a program that I wouldn't have approved. I went downstairs and asked all of you who had been watching it. None of you confessed. Later, however, you came to me privately to tell me you thought it was you. I was so impressed and thanked you for telling me. I also reminded you to ask me to watch anything you're not sure I would approve. Afterwards, I thought about the fact that you clearly had not finished watching the show (which was why I had gotten the " Continue watching?" message) and wondered if your own innate sense of integrity had been what had led you to turn it off in the first place. Is that right? Either way, I was--and still am--so proud of you.<br />
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Also, several months ago, you and I had occasion to drive over to Eugene by ourselves. As we were leaving town, you offered to say a prayer for our safety. I had not thought to do so, but was certainly happy to receive your offer. As I drove, you prayed aloud that we would be watched over and kept safe as we drove. By the time we drove home later on, I was very tired and knew that it was unsafe for me to be driving. Because of my impatience to get home, however, I never pulled over as I should have. As we pulled into town, I remember feeling the impression that we had been protected because of your prayer. Thank you, Shuggie. I love you, girl. <br />
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<br />Annhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00906401217210340529noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1723116687074601909.post-30221318600523844172019-06-30T22:31:00.004-07:002019-06-30T22:31:49.472-07:00A Note to My Kids : JaneJust wanted to note here that the words I addressed to Jane, I saved as a draft so as to respect her privacy. Annhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00906401217210340529noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1723116687074601909.post-68003108450966687562018-02-27T17:05:00.000-08:002019-06-30T22:11:30.102-07:00A Note To My Kids (Camp)Dear Camp, Jane, Danin and Skip,<br />
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<br />
I haven't done this in a while--write to <i>you</i>--so I'm doing it now. There are so many things I want to tell you--and even more--so many things I want to remember about you that I'm terrified I will forget. As you well know, I am not a worrier. I worry about things far less than I probably ought to. But for some reason, I do worry that I am losing my memory--that it will continue to get worse and worse until I can no longer remember all of the things I would never have wanted to forget.. I'm paranoid about it. I <i>have</i> been ever since my book club read two books about memory loss. But anyway...<br />
<br />
These are some of the things I want to remember:<br />
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Camp. One minute ago (literally) we were arguing. You got your phone taken away a week or so ago, and I just told you you wouldn't be getting it back for a while. (You continue to struggle with being disrespectful to Dad and me and we continue to have to fight you to get your assignments all turned it and on time) You want to hash it out, but I am not going to. You are a lot like me in many ways. You want to talk everything out. I know now, from experiencing this with you, what Dad has felt all these years. I am sorry you inherited this trait from me. For what it's worth, though, I think my words are are also one of my greatest strengths. Maybe they'll be yours as well. It all depends on how we use them. You may likely also have inherited your tendency to be disrespectful from me. I was grounded for much of my childhood for being disrespectful. Unfortunately for you, this does not mean that your actions will be excused or go unpunished. What it really means, is just that maybe I can better understand you and still be confident that you will continue to become an amazing man. Because you will. I am sure of it. You already are amazing. When I think about you, I am amazed that you are my son. I love the person you are. You are such a good, fun, talented kid. You bring so much joy and fulfillment to my life. <br />
<br />
You are 14 now which means you've started going to dances. And man, you love them. I encourage you to ask a lot of girls to dance--especially girls who wouldn't otherwise be asked--and I hope you are taking this advice. I think you are, and I love you for it. You have a distinct style. Last summer, before this school year began, was the first time you did your own school-clothes shopping. It was so surreal to see the 80's style jeans and shirts you came home with. Am I really old enough to be seeing styles cycle through again? And I've always said you can tell a boy has started liking girls when he starts combing his hair. Well, you've been liking girls for a while now. ;) At this point, you have a very specific hair routine. You come into my bathroom--always MY ( I mean Dad's and my) bathroom-- and put your whole head in the sink. After you wet all of your hair, you use my coral and blue World Market hand towel to dry it, and then you blow dry it and walk out with your head tilted to one side so that it dries just the way you like it. I got you your first cologne for Christmas and you wear it pretty faithfully. I asked you if girls ever comment on it and you said <i>just about every day.</i> Right now you and Lauren have a "thing" (at least you did last time I read your texts). I reviewed our rules with you about not holding hands or kissing until you're sixteen. Sarah says there's no way your not holding hands if you have a "thing." I hope she's wrong--not because holding hands is bad or because if you <i>are</i> holding hands it means anything--but because I asked you if you were and you said no. I want you to be honest with me, and I want you to feel comfortable telling me stuff like this. And, truth be told, I do think you should wait. That's what our leaders teach us to do and I believe it is really good counsel. And believe me, Camp. No one was ever worse off for waiting. <br />
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You loooooovvvveee to have your back rubbed--and your hands, too. You <i>would</i> have me rub your feet as well, but that's where I draw the line. I only do that for Dad. Whenever it is your night to have me lie with you, you have me rub your back. When it's not your night, you will often still try to get me to do it, so i'll try to avoid going into your room because of it. If by chance, you do catch me tiptoeing out after checking on Skip or whatever, you'll whisper quickly, "Mama. Will you rub my back just for one minute?" And I'll groan and tell you no, and then you'll keep asking until sometimes I agree to a few seconds of it. Sometimes, as I'm finishing, you'll stick out a hand to be rubbed as well and I'll groan again. I'm sorry I have done this so begrudgingly, Buddy. I hope that despite how much I do not enjoy massaging people, you know I DO love that you ask me to do it. I do love that every Sunday, you'll try to find your way next to me on the bench in hopes that I'll rub your back. Does it hurt your feelings when I turn your down? Often, you'll take my left arm and put it around your neck as a request. I hate you for it and love you for it at the same time. ;)<br />
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You've become very athletic and are an important part of the teams you play on. You go around shooting imaginary hoops and juking imaginary defenders just like Grandpa always has. And I looooovve to watch you play sports. It wasn't that long ago that Daddy and I were watching you in one of your Boys and Girls Club basketball games and you were so distracted and disengaged. We knew you were thinking about Harry Potter. You're not thinking about that any more. Your head is definitely in the game. Track is coming up soon and you are so excited. I am excited too. You just got your new white and black track shoes and you have worn them around the house all day. <br />
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You talk to me. You tell me jokes and about funny things that you see and about conversations. You take me through plays that happen in your games. You retell me things you learn at school and elsewhere (Like youTube :)) I love all these words. Thank you for them!<br />
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You are confident. This is one of the qualities I most admire in you. It is the one quality I wish I could give to my 14-year-old self. It is such a blessing and a gift. You are comfortable with yourself and that makes you a leader. Erin told me when you were very young that you were a natural leader. I hate to admit that I couldn't totally see it at that time. But I definitely see it now. She was right. You ARE a leader. And like Dad and I have told you, that means you have a very large responsibility. You have the power to either lead others to good, or lead them to bad. I hope you always take this responsibility seriously. <br />
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You are <i>such</i> a <i>good</i> kid. I know this because you are my son.....and because I read your texts :) I see that you <i>want</i> to be good. You <i>want</i> to do what is right. You are definitely a normal kid with weaknesses and temptations, but you are on the right track and I am sooooo grateful. Please continue on that road. <br />
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Even though we argue a lot these days and experience a fair amount of conflict, I hope you know how much Dad and I love you and how proud we are of the person you are becoming. What a cool kid you are! We have people telling us that all the time, and we know it to be true. Love you, Baby.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Annhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00906401217210340529noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1723116687074601909.post-49081302089900198472018-02-14T01:11:00.000-08:002018-02-14T01:11:05.318-08:00Kissing (Part 1)Being Valentine's Day and all, I thought it appropriate to write about kissing.<br />
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Have I already written about this??<br />
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<br />
I was boy crazy from my earliest memories. I remember every boy I've ever loved (liked), starting in kindergarten:<br />
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Justin Bigger<br />
mexican kid from school (i don't remember his name.)<br />
Mark Wilkins<br />
Steven Perkowski<br />
Jess Warren<br />
Patrick Hutchison<br />
Joseph Terry<br />
Kenny Sorensen<br />
John Hardy<br />
and of course, Brian Lacouture<br />
.....just to name a few.<br />
<br />
<br />
Interestingly, though, I never really had a thing for <i>kissing</i> boys. Kissing, (or rather, the IDEA of kissing) terrified me. It always seemed like to everyone else, it was such a normal, natural thing. But to me? Totally awkward and terrifying. Maybe I should have watched more kissing movies. <br />
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The fact is, I was never in a position <i>to</i> kiss a boy until I was 16 and had my first boyfriend. And I was absolutely terrified to kiss him. Anytime we got into one of those kissy situations where our faces were close together, I would always just get nervous and dodgy. And Sarah had somehow figured out that part of what terrified me about kissing was having to tell my mom about it. I knew she would ask me, and I couldn't lie to her.<br />
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One night, Joseph and I were talking on the phone and the conversation kinda led to when in the heck we were going to kiss. I don't know what kind of excuses I was coming up with or what I was saying. All I remember is Sarah barging into the room (she must have been listening in on our conversation) and saying, "Ann, you just need Mom to give you permission to kiss Josepsh!" <br />
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To which I replied, "No, I don't!"<br />
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And she said "Yes, you do!" And then started hollering for my mom. When my mom got to my bedroom, Sarah blurted out, "Mom, Ann needs you to give her permission to kiss Joseph!" <br />
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And my mom repeated, "Ann, do you need permission to kiss Joseph?" <br />
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And I replied, "Yes!" Turns out I did need that permission. I just needed to know it was ok with my mom for me to be kissing boys. :) <br />
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A couple days later when Joseph kissed me for the first time--and it was probably the most awkward peck ever, <i>my</i> fault--the first thing my mom asked me when I went inside was, "Did he kiss you?" and then, "Did you like it?" What kind of mom asks that question? An awesome one. That's what kind. <br />
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But ANYWAY... after going through a couple months dating Joseph and then Justin and still being totally terrified of kissing (how do you do it? Do we stare into each other's eyes first? Do I wait for him to touch my face first or do I meet him half way? Do I turn my head left or right? What if we bonk noses?? What if he opens his mouth? What if he uses his tongue?????) I decided that one way or another I was going to <i>have</i> to get over that fear, and learn how to handle the whole thing. I mean, I did plan on having kids someday....<br />
<br />
So one day, I happened upon an article in The Reader's Digest that would change my (kissing) life. It outlined a study that had been done with shooting free throws. In the study, there were three groups--one control group and two experimental groups. The object of the study was to determine which randomized group would make the most baskets while shooting free throws at the end of the experimental period. The procedure was as follows: Over a given period of time, one group of people would physically practice free throws for a specified amount of time every day. The second group would <i>visually </i>practice free throws for that same amount of time--in other words, they would be guided in visualizing everything about shooting free throws: where you would stand, where you were looking when you released the ball, how the ball looked flying through the air, how the ball would hit the backboard, etc. And the control group didn't do anything. At the end of the experimental period, all the groups had to shoot free throws and the number of baskets were recorded. The conclusion of the study was that the group that did the visualizing was able to make the most baskets. So interesting, right?<br />
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Well, I decided that if the whole visualizing thing worked with free throws, then surely it would also work with kissing. So I started setting aside time to <i>visualize</i> kissing. No joke. I would imagine being in the kissy situation (you know the kind--with the look and stuff) and then I would imagine which way I would turn my face, how we would come together. How our lips would make contact, etc. <br />
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After I had been going through these exercises for a while, Brian asked me to be his girlfriend, and I knew my visualizing would be put to the test. He told me later that Justin had made the comment to him, "I hope you're not planning to get any action with Ann. You're going to be disappointed!" Oh brother. <br />
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But anyway, I couldn't stand the thought of waiting for, and then being in, that horrible kissy situation, so I just decided that armed with the visualization skills I had acquired, I was just going to take matters into my own hands and plant one on him before there was any time for things to be awkward. And man, that's gotta be one of the finer decisions of my life. It worked like a champ. <br />
Turns out, Meghan and Justin were watching the whole thing go down from across the street in Meghan's house. Ha! I shocked the socks off them! (Remember that, Meg??)<br />
<br />
So anyway.... <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Annhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00906401217210340529noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1723116687074601909.post-68249562183535485872018-01-02T22:33:00.000-08:002018-01-02T22:33:09.986-08:00Christmas MagicWell, I managed to run into a little Christmas magic just in the nick of time. This shouldn't surprise me. After all, it seems like every year, right before Christmas--like on the 22nd or 23rd--I finally find the magic I've been looking for. This year, it happened like this:<br />
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Ever since like 2014 (when we almost skipped Christmas because we were so bad) we have done a Christmas service project on Christmas day. And it has been <i>truly</i> wonderful--seriously. This year, on the Saturday before Christmas (the 23rd?) Brian texted a bunch of people and invited them to join us at the Stone's house for some service. Brian led a crew of men helping Mark tear the remaining old shingles off the house and begin work on the new trim and siding, and another large group of us worked in the yard. There were so many wonderful people there who answered the <strike>call</strike> text and came ready and eager to work. The kids all worked happily alongside their friends and it was just <i>so wonderful</i>.<br />
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While we were working, Nancy texted to ask if anyone wanted to come to her house for lunch. When we were finished, Liz Hughes and Chad Clement and I decided to take her up on her offer, so we (and all of our kids) headed over there, left our dirty boots at the door and went in to enjoy lunch together. Nancy's house is so fun anyway, but with all of us piled in there with her family, it was especially...magical. She whipped us up a lunch of hot dogs, hamburgers, chips and dip, and ice-cream and we all sat around eating and visiting. <br />
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After we left, the kids and I headed home (Brian was still working at the Stone's.) I cleaned up a bit and made some Italian sausage vegetable soup and sugar cookies. The kids helped me with the cookies and worked on art projects in the office. <br />
<br />
Later on, the kids and I piled into the car and headed out to Londi's house for a Christmas open-house. Have you ever been to Londi's house? It is an awesome a-frame cabin in the forest that smells like Christmas all year long. So perfect. <br />
<br />
When we got home, we had an informal open house of our own. The Wondras, Mitchells, Jensens, and Hughes all stopped in to have some soup and cookies and hang out for a while. <br />
<br />
Anyway, like I said, the day was magical. I was surrounded by people I love--all having fun--and celebrating Christmas. <br />
<br />
Perhaps one of the biggest contributors to that day being so special, though, was the fact that <i>Brian</i> was happy. Unfortunately, these days, Brian doesn't seem happy very often. But <i>that </i>day, he seemed happy. He was doing his thing--working and serving--and he seemed happy. He wasn't with us at Nancy's or Londi's houses, and I wasn't <i>with</i> him for most of the day, but he was in the back ground, happy, and that made all the difference. It was an answer to my prayers--the best of my Christmas gifts.<br />
<br />
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On Christmas day, after we opened gifts and Brian and I had a nap, our family headed back over to the Stone's to finish up by spreading bark in the yard and then we headed over to the park to play. Annhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00906401217210340529noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1723116687074601909.post-23983942018222305812017-12-24T22:15:00.002-08:002017-12-24T22:15:55.885-08:00Merry Christmas<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">December 4, 2017</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Dear Family and Friends, </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I’m sitting at my computer with Christmas music playing softly as I write. My Christmas playlist has been playing all evening. It was playing just now as I had a screaming match with Danin and then dragged her to her room, <i>literally</i>. I’m 39 years old now, but still not mature enough to use more discipline than a child…. :(</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I was out of control. I immediately felt regret and disappointment and went to the freezer for some peppermint ice cream to self-medicate, and then I came into the office to clean. (Man this office is a mess.) As I was cleaning up the Christmas books scattered across the floor, I opened one called “O Christmas Three” and read the words of Leo Tolstoy, “Where love is, there God is also.” So true, Leo. So true. Sigh….</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Last year I described how every year, I go wondering through December <i>looking for Christmas, </i>as they say. And man, I tell ya—it can be hard to find. I’m always searching for the magic that is Christmas—and trying my best to create it—but man, it can be hard. I feel like I’ve spent the last year thinking about it and have finally come to some conclusions. The magic of Christmas, for <i>me</i>, comes when there is love…and peace..<i>in my home</i> and <i>in my family.</i> As I’ve thought about it, all of the magical moments of my life can be characterized by the presence of love and peace—moments when everyone is laughing and smiling and having fun. They are moments of forgiveness and tolerance—when relationships are strong and steady and we are all enjoying being together. You know? So you add to one of those moments a spattering of chiming bells, sparkling lights, and holiday fragrances, and you’ve got yourself some Christmas magic—a simple recipe, but still so difficult to cook up sometimes. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">So anyway…</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Other than our daily failures (but continued efforts!) to create and preserve peace in our home, we continue to be blessed with the normal struggles of a normal family: learning to put on CLEAN underwear after a shower; learning to PUT ON underwear in the first place (insert eye-rolling emoji here); learning not to tease; learning not to <i>react</i> to teasing; learning to keep our mouths shut—you know, all the basics. We’ve got kids who are playing sports, wearing mascara (say wha??), singing, dancing and reading books. We’ve got kids who are healthy and fun. We’ve got all we could really want.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I really am so grateful for all I have. I’m especially grateful for the opportunity I continue to have to be loved and to feel intense love. It’s an incredible blessing to love someone so much you feel like your heart really could beat right out of your chest. I love that line from Les Mis that says “to love another person is to see the face of God.” Victor Hugo and Leo Tolstoy, man…smart guys..</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">Merry Christmas, everyone. May we all find it this year.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">Love, </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">Ann</span></div>
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Annhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00906401217210340529noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1723116687074601909.post-46671314537918185192017-11-06T23:23:00.000-08:002017-11-06T23:23:01.932-08:00What I PrayWay back when my wedding day was approaching, I began to be a little concerned by the fact that I wasn't all that excited to have sex. To me, hugging and kissing and cuddling and all that stuff was plenty fun, and I didn't really care to do any more than that. Just the prospect of sleeping in a bed with Brian was exciting enough for me. Weird? Well anyway, as our wedding day grew nearer, I started panicking a little that I wouldn't be ready to have sex--that I wouldn't <i>want</i> it and thus I would ruin the whole thing. You know? And I figured it was mostly God's fault since it was he who had invented sex and sex drive in the first place. So anyway, I felt totally comfortable adding "and pleeeeaaaassseee help me to want to have sex" to my prayers every day. I prayed that everyday for like the last week or so of my engagement. And you know what? It worked. On my wedding day, I was ready to go. :)<br />
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Why am I thinking about this? Because this is the first November of my entire life where I have not been <i>super </i>excited to start decorating/planning/shopping for Christmas. I love Christmas more than anyone I know. For real. I am crazy about it. But this year? I'm not feeling it. Breaking out all my Christmas bins seems overwhelming, I haven't decided if I want to throw my Favorite Things Party (and it's normally the only day of the year I am fun!), and last weekend I spent two whole days shopping with some of my girlfriends and I didn't buy one single Christmas item. Not one. I think something bad is happening to me. <br />
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It's really devastating for me. So I'm going to pray about it. I'm going to start asking Heavenly Father to help me <i>want </i>Christmas... You might be thinking that it would be better for me to forgo all that materialistic stuff anyway, because that's not what Christmas is all about; and I get that. But it's just that<i> for me</i>-- its that same excitement and energy that makes me decorate and shop that makes me serve and seek the true Christmas spirit as well. You know what I mean? It's all the same thing for me. <br />
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I'm wondering if the reason I'm not particularly excited for the Christmas season is that I am lacking love in general. I have let my heart turn a bit cold, if you will. I haven't exercised my love enough, and now it is weak and bearing little fruit. <br />
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So I will try and draw nearer to the Lord, I will ask to be filled with His love--and I will hope that by doing so, I will start to get excited for Christmas. Annhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00906401217210340529noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1723116687074601909.post-17193814904301032892017-08-11T10:48:00.001-07:002017-08-11T10:48:56.571-07:00Zero PopulationThe other day, I was thinking about weddings. Specifically, I was thinking about how I would style a reception if I were getting married tomorrow. Because I love to design and decorate my home, people are always surprised that I don't necessarily have an interest in or a knack for decorating for events. But anyway, I was thinking about what I would really, really want for my wedding/reception if I were just about to be married, and you know what I decided? I decided that just like when I DID get married, I wouldn't really have a lot of strong opinions. I would want there to be good food, and I would want to look beautiful. I would just LOVE to have a special event where I felt beautiful. You know? There are very few times in my life when I have felt beautiful and I know that being beautiful isn't important anyway, but I would still like the chance to feel that way. I've been trying to remember if I felt beautiful on my wedding day. I can't remember, but probably not. I remember that I had a huge unhideable (made-up word?) zit on my chin--as I always do for special occasions--and I wasn't having a particularly good hair day. I think I felt comfortable that Brian loved me and was happy with the way I looked, so that was enough. <br />
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When you read books or watch movies and there is a beautiful girl and a plain girl, which girl do you identify with? I ALWAYS identify with the plain girl, of course. </div>
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Over the last month or so, I have been watching Poldark and loving it--until last night. Last night, I watched the episode where Ross is unfaithful to Demelza, and now the whole love story is basically ruined for me. I was DEVASTATED. Why does this always have to happen? For whatever reason, experiencing affairs in books/movies, etc. affects me in real life. It's like I went to bed with less hope. You know? I think I've mentioned this before, but it's like with each affair I read about/watch/find out about, I feel my chances of experiencing an affair in my own life are that much greater. It's like the statistician in me just thinks about the laws of probability and i just get all worked up. Anyway....hopefully the love story that has been ruined for me for now, will become a love story that teaches me about forgiveness and redemption and a deeper, truer love that results. Can that really happen? I hope so.<br />
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The other day, I was outside doing yard work and watching Skip do tricks on his skateboard. One of our neighbors (who has heretofore been somewhat standoffish and not particularly friendly) was outside pullings weeds, so I had the thought to visit with her. I said hello and asked her how she was doing. She nodded toward the weeds she was pulling and expressed frustration with the HOA for not following through with their responsibilities to keep our easements and common areas maintained. She mentioned the sand that had gotten blown around by our building our house and by the building that is going on currently. Dang. She is one of<i> those</i> neighbors. Sighhhh... Regardless, I was determined to be friendly--to kill her with kindness, or at least <i>wound</i> her with it. :) I offered to help her pull weeds and went inside to quickly grab my gloves. When I returned and started pulling weeds, I attempted to start a friendly conversation with her by asking if she and her husband have any kids. <br />
"Oh, no, " she replied. "We are part of that "zero population" generation. My husband and I are both scientists." <br />
She continued to express her feelings about the Earth's eminent demise and her determination not to contribute to the world's overpopulation, which is to blame. I commented that while I respect her opinion, I do not agree with it. She said that she feels bad for people like me who have kids who will experience the earth's...destruction? demise?.... I can't remember the words she used. I mostly listened but did comment that not all scientists feel the same as her with regards to not having kids. She responded that those scientists need to check their facts. She said that numbers don't lie. <br />
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I felt so disappointed and defeated. We sure do see things through different lenses. With my heart in my chest, we finished weeding and I commented about what a good job she and her husband do with their yard. She returned the compliment. <br />
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I will keep trying. </div>
Annhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00906401217210340529noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1723116687074601909.post-23962073295585781252017-05-07T23:13:00.000-07:002017-05-07T23:13:35.813-07:00A Sportsman's PrayerHave you heard this poem before? As Brian and I and the kids were driving back to Florence from Vegas after a week there for Spring Break, we were listening to General Conference. I fell asleep several times, but caught some of the words to this poem and loved them. I immediately grabbed my phone and sent myself a text with the words I could remember, so that I could reference them later. Today was my day to teach in Relief Society, and as I was preparing, I searched for the talk that contained this poem. Interestingly, after a million searches on LDS.org and Google, I could not find it. I went talk by talk looking for the words of this poem that I had jotted down, but did not find them. Weird, huh? So weird. Maybe the rest of the talk was awful so they wiped away the record of it? Maybe I was dreaming when I heard the words? Maybe I needed to hear these words, so they were sent by an angel though Brian's phone (on which we were listening to Conference) straight to only me? I'm not sure. What I know is that I <i>did</i> hear these words that day, and I <i>did</i> find the full poem online--so it <i>does</i> exist. I just don't know how nobody else seems to remember having heard it and I can't find any record of it having been quoted at conference. Anyway, I love it:<br />
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>Prayer of a Sportsman</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>Dear Lord, in the battle that goes on through life</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>I ask but a field that is fair,</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>A chance that is equal with all in the strife,</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>A courage to strive and to dare;</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>And if I should win, let it be by the code</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>With my faith and my honor held high;</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>And if I should lose, let me stand by the road,</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>And cheer as the winners go by.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>And Lord, may my shouts be ungrudging and clear,</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>A tribute that comes from the heart,</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>And let me not cherish a snarl or a sneer</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>Or play any sniveling part;</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>Let me say, "There they ride, on whom laurel's bestowed</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>Since they played the game better than I."</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>Let me stand with a smile by the side of the road,</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>And cheer as the winners go by.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>So grant me to conquer, if conquer I can,</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>By proving my worth in the fray,</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>But teach me to lose like a regular man,</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>And not like a craven, I pray;</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>Let me take off my hat to the warriors who strode</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>To victory splendid and high,</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>Yea, teach me to stand by the side of the road</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>And cheer as the winners go by.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>-Berton Braley</i></span></div>
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Maybe it's the fact that I love sports and just attended Camp's final track meet for the season; maybe it's having watched my kids play soccer for the last 6 weeks' worth of Saturdays. Maybe it's just that I love me a good show of sportsmanship. Maybe it's because I struggle with jealousy and being happy for the successes and fortune of others. Whatever it is, I'm definitely a sucker for a good sentimental poem and I loved this one. I'm going to always try to cheer as the winners go by.</div>
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Lately I've been making my way through <i>Joseph Smith, Rough Stone Rolling</i> again, and it's hit me how incredibly important the records recorded in journals are to our understanding of history. </div>
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I can't imagine that my blog will be of any import to history in general, but it will certainly be important as a record of <i>my</i> history, right? And maybe someday it will be important for someone to understand my history. I don't know. </div>
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For my birthday, Jayne Edman gave me a binder in which to record my spiritual experiences and insights. So thoughtful, right? It has made me regret not having recorded so many of these things before and created a desire in me to be better about it from now on. And doing this is important to me because I want to remember the times the Lord has whispered things to me through his Spirit. At this point, I feel like it is so difficult to know what is true. All I really have to lean on is what I feel God has communicated <i>to me</i>. <i>My truths.</i> You know? I want my kids to know what I feel the Lord has tried to teach me. Here is some of that:</div>
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God loves me. He gives me a million chances and he never gives up on me. </div>
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If I want Brian to be my biggest fan, all I have to do is be <i>his </i>biggest fan.</div>
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A lot of weakness and strength can exist in the same person. A lot of strength and weakness exist within me. </div>
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Not only am I free to love and appreciate the strengths and good qualities of others despite whatever their weaknesses are, but that is God's <i>commandment </i>to me. </div>
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I need to learn to shut. my. mouth. </div>
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I am selfish and I need to learn to think of others before myself. </div>
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Recently, I had been praying that Heavenly Father would help me to recognize ways to show Brian my love in a way he would recognize and feel. I had also been praying that the Spirit would speak to me LOUDLY so that I could hear it. (Why does the Spirit always have to whisper??) The other night, Brian was upstairs working on finishing the bathroom up there. Several times, I had the impression to go ask him if he needed my help. I did not want to help him. I was tired and anxious to go to bed. I felt like it was reasonable for any person to want to go to bed at 9 o'clock at night instead of working on a bathroom. Even so, I kept having the feeling that I should offer my help. I didn't. The next morning, Brian and I got into an argument on the phone and during our conversation, Brian yelled, "Of all the time I have spent working upstairs, you have only helped me ONE time!" I realized then that the impression I had received the night before had indeed come from the Spirit. Sure it was reasonable for me to have wanted to go to bed. Sure it was true that Brian had never <i>asked</i> for my help. Sure it was true that Brian had rarely offered to help with all the work<i> I</i> had had to do. Nevertheless, I had asked Heavenly Father to show me ways to show Brian my love and he had answered me. I just didn't want to hear the answer. </div>
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Annhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00906401217210340529noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1723116687074601909.post-44399781071839867362017-01-30T21:09:00.001-08:002017-01-30T21:09:33.058-08:00Skip's NightIt used to be that every night, all four of my kids would call to me after having gotten in bed, "Mom, will you come lay with me?" (Yeah, it should b<i>e lie </i>with me, but who cares?) And this became a real problem because lying with all four of them for a period of time every night meant that I got no time to myself, which I desperately needed and wanted at the end of each day. So at some point, I came up with a solution that was probably inspired by a tradition Sarah has with her kids. I assigned each kid one night of the week. Now, on his/her night, each kid gets to have me lie with them and do whatever it is they want to do while we lie together in bed. <br />
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At the beginning, Danin always wanted me to sing to her. During my time with her on "her nights" I sang to and taught her that old country song called Johnny's Daddy (Is that what it's called?) She loved it and learned it quickly. Then she and I started watching videos from Les Mis (the movie and the play) on YouTube and she started learning the songs from watching them so many times. That was how I introduced her to Les Mis. Usually, now, she just likes to read to me or have me read to her. <br />
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Most of the time on her night, Janey reads to me, too. She's a great reader, that girl. And now, she has me rub her back with her little purple back-rubbing tool while she reads. It's fun to get little snippets of the books she's reading.<br />
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Camp ALWAYS takes advantage of his night by asking me to rub his back. He knows I cannot say no when it is his night. And he is picky. He tells me exactly where to put my hands and where and how to push and apply pressure. He looooovvvveeess to have his back rubbed, popped and stood on. Sometimes I wonder if something did happen to his back that day when he fell out of our second story 12th street window. Hmm. And he talks, too. He's a talker like me and I love it. During our time together on his nights, I have often asked him if he likes a girl yet and if he has any more hair in his armpits. :)<br />
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And Skip. My baby. On his nights, we snuggle up close and give each other butterfly kisses. I read to him a lot. Many times I ask him if he wants me to sing to him and he usually says no. He asks a lot of questions about what things mean and what is real. (Isn't it interesting how kids always go through a phase of trying to figure out what is "real"?) Tonight he asked me why Jesus is in Heaven and how he died and why the guys killed him. He told me that he never hears God talk and I told him that Heavenly Father and Jesus speak to us through the Holy Ghost. I told him that when I yell at the kids and am mean, Heavenly Father tells the Holy Ghost to whisper to me, <i>Stop yelling</i>. He asked what the Holy Ghost is and I told him the Holy Ghost is a spirit--a person without a body. Tonight I also reminded Skip that on Saturday he will get to go to Noah's birthday party. I asked him if he plays with Noah at school and he said he does. I then reminded him that every time I have previously asked him who he plays with at school, he has told me, <i>nobody. </i> He laughed and told me he likes to tell lies. Annhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00906401217210340529noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1723116687074601909.post-47054834990622293382017-01-25T14:13:00.003-08:002017-01-25T14:20:47.088-08:00Nothing To Say and Pictures of the House<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I'm sure you can guess which pictures were taken by my talented photographer sister, Laura Hendricks (havhouse on Instagram) and which ones I took with my outdated phone. I am also realizing that I didn't take any photos of the laundry room or powder bath (and of course, none of the upstairs space). But those spaces have all changed quite a bit, so I'll post updated pictures of them soon. </div>
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Annhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00906401217210340529noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1723116687074601909.post-53669513327168398112017-01-18T10:47:00.000-08:002017-01-22T14:46:01.682-08:00What I ThinkWhat's up with all the weirdos posting a bunch of--well, just seven-- spam comments on my last post? How do I delete them? I'm much happier with my normal zero comments than with a bunch of nonsense comments.<br />
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I've realized something. I've always said how much I love writing on my blog. I <i>love</i> my blog. It's my place to communicate, and communication is so, so important to me. I can say whatever I want and go on forever, and I always have some pretended active listener. It's my journal, my record of all the things I think and feel--a record that I hope will be important to my children someday. And YET, I never write on it... Why is that? I know now. Many years back, I thought I loved to cook. I would cook (what I thought were) yummy meals and invite other people to come over and enjoy them with us. And then at some point, I realized that <i>cooking</i> wasn't the part of the experience that I enjoyed at all. It was the eating and socializing part that I loved...not the cooking. Last night as I was thinking about writing on my blog, I came to the same type of realization: it's not <i>writing</i> on my blog that I love, it's<i> having</i> writing on my blog that I love. See? Unfortunately for me, there's only one way to get that writing here. I heard somewhere recently that that guy who started Facebook (what's his name again?.... Ian??) is working on developing technology that will allow us to communicate directly to others without ever having to type anything. Our devices will be able to just pick up on our thoughts and sentiments and send them directly to others. It would be (will be?) so cool to just be able to send my thoughts and my feelings directly to my blog someday. But anyway.<br />
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I'm vey judgmental. It's so awful. But at least I recognize this about myself, right? Isn't that the first step? <br />
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I feel judgment and resentment toward women who get boob jobs. Weird, huh? Yeah. And WRONG. Totally un-Christlike. Because I know many women who have boob jobs and they are kind and good and fun etc., etc... I know my judgement comes from my own fears and insecurities. It's like I feel that with every woman who gets a boob job, my own boobs--and body, by extension--become less desirable by comparison. It's like when so many women are getting boob jobs, the REAL way a women's body looks after child-bearing gets forgotten so that a new manufactured body is the new standard. You know what I mean? How is my flat-chested body supposed to remain desirable to my husband when there are fake boobs running around everywhere? Sigh. I don't know. Like I said. I know this issue is just a manifestation of my own pride and lack of charity. So I'll work on it and pray that Heavenly Father increases my ability to be content with myself and confident that Brian will love me and think I'm beautiful no matter what. <br />
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That reminds me. I have a girlfriend who is going through a really tough time in her marriage right now. I feel so heartbroken for her. Brian and I are going through a <i>really </i>good time right now (and I am SO GRATEFUL) but talking with my friend reminded me of how incredibly hard marriage is and how desperate and sorrowful I (and Brian, too, no doubt) have felt so many times in the past. I have wondered at times whether Brian and I will ever be able to really understand one another. Sometimes I think that as part of our reward in Heaven, we will be given the opportunity to really be able to UNDERSTAND one another and see the world through each other's eyes for the first time--so that we can <i>see</i> and <i>really feel </i>one another's pains accurately. You know? I imagine that truly becoming like Christ IS what allows us that ability. And then again, sometimes I feel like if and when I become way more like Christ, I will no longer <i>care </i>about being validated and understood because at that point I will have been finally able to forgive and put the past behind me and be grateful for the progress we have made. Maybe it will be a combination of both those things. But anyway...<br />
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Like I said, right now Brian and I are in a really good place and I am so happy. And oh, man. I hope Brian is happy, too. That's one of the things that is so hard for my friend. She thought she and her husband were really happy. She WAS really happy. It totally blindsided her to find out her husband wasn't feeling the same way.. So hard, right? SO hard. <br />
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Wow. This is totally not what I was thinking this blog post was going to be. I was going to write about the house and the holidays and all my kids' birthdays...But wait. One more thing. I<i> finally </i>realized--just last year--that the reason Brian and I are always fighting around the time of Valentine's Day and our anniversary in February is because it is right smack in the middle of what always turns our to be the slowest time for our business! Why did I never recognize this before?? This year, however, I am armed with this acknowledgement and I am determined to not let this slower season get me stressed. <i>It will pass. </i>It always passes. So there's no point getting my panties in an bundle over it. It is January 18th today and we are happy, so we may just be able to make our way through February without freaking out! Yay!!<br />
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So yeah. We finished the house. Thank dang goodness. The year and a half that we spent planning and building the house constituted the second-hardest period of our marriage. It was so, so....hard. When I think about what made it so hard, I'm not really sure. It was just so much stress on Brian that he became more unhappy and unpleasant than he has EVER been before. And that, of course, meant that I was also stressed and unhappy and unpleasant. And I don't mean to say that it was Brian's fault that that period of time was so horrible. In fact, I'm pretty sure<i> I</i> caused most of the stress Brian was feeling during that time. So it was more MY fault. But anyway... so glad to have the door shut to that period of time forever. <br />
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Fortunately, we all <i>looovee</i> the house. We have had some really difficult and sad situations with some of our neighborhood members (which I don't feel like writing about) but <i>this house </i>has been such a place of peace and fun for these last 4 months. We are truly loving it. What a blessing. <br />
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<br />Annhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00906401217210340529noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1723116687074601909.post-5750412214743346922016-06-13T00:15:00.001-07:002016-06-13T00:15:56.479-07:00What I Think And A Fiddle Leaf Fig TreeSo I can't put this off any longer. It's important, right? To write (type) the things that go on inside my head? Because someday someone will care. Someday,<i> I</i> will care. <br />
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I told you how last year I realized a very painful truth about myself, right? I realized that I am a very selfish person. Sad, huh? Totally. Because mothers, especially, are supposed to be unselfish. They are supposed to be willing to sacrifice everything for their husbands and children. So this year I have been taking little steps to practice being unselfish. And it's hard! But I'm working on it. The other day at the soccer field, I had come prepared in my nice, warm down coat. Danin had not come prepared. She was cold. So you know what I did? I offered her my coat!! And then she was really warm and I was less warm, but really warm in my heart because I had done something that was unselfish. Also, the other night after having worked on the house with Brian, I suggested we go out to eat. I love going out to eat. And even though I felt like eating Mexican food, I told Brian it would be totally fine for him to order a stuffed-crust pizza instead. He did, and I just had a big bowl of cereal--probably Wheat Chex, which I love--and 2% milk. (I love 2% milk.) But so unselfish, right?? And then tonight, when we were having dessert, I asked Brian if he wanted the piece of cake that had the big chunk of brownie on top <i>before</i> taking it for myself. My levels of unselfishness are getting crazy high. :)<br />
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So anyway, I'm working on that. <br />
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And I'm working on raising several fiddle leaf fig trees right now. If you like decorating at all or ever look through a decorating magazine, you know that a fiddle leaf fig is practically nonnegotiable. So back in January, I purchased my first baby fig--on Amazon, if you can believe it!--and it came all wrapped up in a little box in the mail. A month later, I bought another one that was about 3' tall at a nursery in Portland. It was doing awesome, except that it was kinda growing tall and narrow, instead of bushy like I wanted it to grow, so I read everything there is to read about fiddle leaf figs on the internet and then successfully pruned it. Pruning these trees forces new branches to grow out of the main trunk beneath the pruning spot. I even took the top that I had cut off and put it in a jar of water in order to start a new plant, and it worked!! So now my original plant has two new branches and lots of new leaves, and I actually have TWO new fiddle leaf plants that are the result of the propagation. So awesome, huh?!! Please be excited with me about this, because it has seriously made me so happy to see all this growth. Like, I get giddy with excitement. <i>(Side note: When I was a little girl and my family was living on Prince Lane, we planted a lawn. Every day I watched the dirt to see if any little blades of grass were poking through yet. And soon enough, little cow pies started to push up all over the yard by new, little tufts of grass. I wanted so badly to knock those little cakes of dirt off in order to reveal the new grass underneath (and sometimes I did), but my dad (or mom, maybe?) had told me that it was important to let the grass break through the dirt on its own because it would be too weak to withstand the sun if it was uncovered too early.)</i> ANYWAY, just like I've cared about making my bed perfectly for 30 years, so have I always had a fascination with watching plants develop and grow. And the leaves on fiddle leaf figs grow so fast that you can practically <i>watch </i>them getting bigger. So it's totally cool. And every time I see a new leaf sprouting, I take a picture and text it to Steph. And she get's excited with me. Thanks, Steph.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS8fiHQ_bsMfZ-PKKDIOzhOCTq7qEIgD1iXOurCfX8QkojsEmkHluaaItwjuZICKQqVXw-O3jxl8QHsmTdbsTbFwzoUABRZGojsIpP_lRdPnaE9fRB1x9aUZkQzY0Q_PP7IH3rVh5YCLk/s1600/IMG_6184.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS8fiHQ_bsMfZ-PKKDIOzhOCTq7qEIgD1iXOurCfX8QkojsEmkHluaaItwjuZICKQqVXw-O3jxl8QHsmTdbsTbFwzoUABRZGojsIpP_lRdPnaE9fRB1x9aUZkQzY0Q_PP7IH3rVh5YCLk/s640/IMG_6184.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My little Fiddle Leaf Fig baby from Amazon. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Amazon baby after about 2 or 3 months</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQHsFj5oSCLfosZmc_VxPdHf5PJpuG3uT09nNr9mfgjZmPXTOT5cmFS-gWLuYTZrCm90GfZZrloM0LmFJBNCJQGPp6NQNL5zb20IR1K363qbdWM_O3kApZsze3p3g7b_ZarP16MUmmJO8/s1600/IMG_6283+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQHsFj5oSCLfosZmc_VxPdHf5PJpuG3uT09nNr9mfgjZmPXTOT5cmFS-gWLuYTZrCm90GfZZrloM0LmFJBNCJQGPp6NQNL5zb20IR1K363qbdWM_O3kApZsze3p3g7b_ZarP16MUmmJO8/s640/IMG_6283+%25281%2529.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the tree I bought at the portland nursery</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqy-skH1AOx7xXDLHXbJxrcvhvSIwO5joRVSb0BHU9QDF1RFDHS_hMDNoc_zSYlg5zyswWa3dzt3QQ0hsOWqFPExNAtB-cxq9wwFqSOmX7fAOq4lf80z-YaN8pDUy7Wa-PSSt2p94qzDM/s1600/IMG_6691.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqy-skH1AOx7xXDLHXbJxrcvhvSIwO5joRVSb0BHU9QDF1RFDHS_hMDNoc_zSYlg5zyswWa3dzt3QQ0hsOWqFPExNAtB-cxq9wwFqSOmX7fAOq4lf80z-YaN8pDUy7Wa-PSSt2p94qzDM/s640/IMG_6691.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A couple months after buying it and right after it had fully developed three large new leaves, I cut the top of the plant (to force new branches to grow) as well as several of the lower leaves.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixBZXFCYdVNdcpA7FSviYFhQdg8eCJOl2SXV2P06QAPV4rO0wv5nyz5-rRkVnjbEQMnMTnZn8PXD2VL75Wv2C842yNykoPDTMvBMuuG3GzAriKT7SjujdZq97SfyxYkFztN6h3xWKv0dQ/s1600/IMG_6497.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixBZXFCYdVNdcpA7FSviYFhQdg8eCJOl2SXV2P06QAPV4rO0wv5nyz5-rRkVnjbEQMnMTnZn8PXD2VL75Wv2C842yNykoPDTMvBMuuG3GzAriKT7SjujdZq97SfyxYkFztN6h3xWKv0dQ/s640/IMG_6497.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here is a close-up of the spot where I cut top of the main trunk off. It is so hard to do when you are cutting off the newest, most beautiful leaves!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjihtJXumfb3fIkje7KRKnizqDlDGkzn7O6AJzsZh2XNZPHgO5Yca1HzvJlPNdjTq11fjO9q3pPQ4Ol1SnBz1N3tAkO1tdtSYCVoHGb37et7FeWogycW4ti3dRAaD140wKd0FbYWz7tr48/s1600/IMG_6748.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjihtJXumfb3fIkje7KRKnizqDlDGkzn7O6AJzsZh2XNZPHgO5Yca1HzvJlPNdjTq11fjO9q3pPQ4Ol1SnBz1N3tAkO1tdtSYCVoHGb37et7FeWogycW4ti3dRAaD140wKd0FbYWz7tr48/s640/IMG_6748.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These are the starts of two new branches which immediately developed a total of five new leaves!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I also pruned the top of a second smaller trunk of my main tree and two new branches formed there as well!</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn-yPwb5cEPkwWC2bthyphenhyphen9LdtLhdf9VELO7NKkgJ2wRV2R_Q0k4yxD5fhKcErz3wdbyJUcj5KWlk8AyI3AVR_4KD5G6GYWiLU0ZRKPa0lQ57FwCmmN9DFrpCEssEKFA3VfVzVjMkx7dFXE/s1600/IMG_6789.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn-yPwb5cEPkwWC2bthyphenhyphen9LdtLhdf9VELO7NKkgJ2wRV2R_Q0k4yxD5fhKcErz3wdbyJUcj5KWlk8AyI3AVR_4KD5G6GYWiLU0ZRKPa0lQ57FwCmmN9DFrpCEssEKFA3VfVzVjMkx7dFXE/s640/IMG_6789.jpg" width="480" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5N0Dh05GqUJeB4_YCvJanNRmwIGf3LO8CF096jZpZOcAYeaWtXDm4XqCEOwdMJy2h1E1IajfrgsoKqSbifoJ-aXmHVK9kAfj9dvUiEsrRb1VBjOCCKYn0DDlXsoHFVJXoM-sw_81G7kM/s1600/IMG_6787.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5N0Dh05GqUJeB4_YCvJanNRmwIGf3LO8CF096jZpZOcAYeaWtXDm4XqCEOwdMJy2h1E1IajfrgsoKqSbifoJ-aXmHVK9kAfj9dvUiEsrRb1VBjOCCKYn0DDlXsoHFVJXoM-sw_81G7kM/s640/IMG_6787.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the top that I chopped off of the top of my main plant</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After about a month or so, it finally started to grow roots! Yay!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After all the roots were about two inches long, I planted it in dirt in a pot. Right now it is sprouting its own first new leaves! I'll post pictures soon!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRlL-It7-tyDA4Cl_GSe2qt3LpJl7t9KrBG23QqmgY7G-rzJBRdmxSaDnqq3PSuSO6K4s9xA7erZvvz9Yvr6yqJrmS3j0cG0GzT_nX7PdnQIo6q83xCMoe7JQAozzZ4mCdgCdCgvaBLBY/s1600/IMG_7069.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRlL-It7-tyDA4Cl_GSe2qt3LpJl7t9KrBG23QqmgY7G-rzJBRdmxSaDnqq3PSuSO6K4s9xA7erZvvz9Yvr6yqJrmS3j0cG0GzT_nX7PdnQIo6q83xCMoe7JQAozzZ4mCdgCdCgvaBLBY/s640/IMG_7069.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the SECOND round of new leaves on my main plant since my pruning. This means the main stem (or trunk) of this tree has now grown two new branches and a total of eight new leaves just since I pruned it a month or two ago. So fun!</td></tr>
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P.S. As it happened, during the time that I was pruning and caring for this tree, we just happened to be studying Jacob 5 in Gospel Doctrine. So that was cool. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No Fiddle Leaves here. Just a room that I love. :)</td></tr>
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Awwww boy... Now I've rattled on about fiddle leaf figs and not really written much of anything about the stuff that is going on inside my head. Another day, I'll write about how sad I am that so many of my friendships have changed; and about how I'm watching Camp become a teenager and i'm proud and terrified at the same time; and about how Jane admitted to me that she doesn't feel comfortable telling me things because I expect her to be perfect (She's right. :( I'm so grateful she told me and I'm working on it.); and about how Danin just trusted me with a special secret and it made me so happy; and about how Skip will be in kindergarten in the fall and I will lose my baby; and about how I wish so bad he had one really good friend; and about how Sarah made me laugh so hard on the phone the other day that it made me so lonely for laughter; and about how Brian and I have been getting along SO much better lately.... And the house! I'll write about the house, too. <br />
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Right now, though, it's late--and I need to wash my face and put on my Rapidlash. So another time...<br />
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<br />Annhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00906401217210340529noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1723116687074601909.post-1776209581967911642016-05-31T21:53:00.000-07:002016-05-31T21:53:02.919-07:00Just Pictures<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW0SQ7WKz6yO_FDgEz99NPtzF-id5YOgVeA3AyR88Dez8D5pAVXS1ngSiV0-cgORa4MXaA6PDzRboZEndSMFtPDQGxtZIRbHs-JcUo6IrlJsbePKnLdhyKYSXYpVYH67Ks1K_-APwY5Es/s1600/IMG_6049.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW0SQ7WKz6yO_FDgEz99NPtzF-id5YOgVeA3AyR88Dez8D5pAVXS1ngSiV0-cgORa4MXaA6PDzRboZEndSMFtPDQGxtZIRbHs-JcUo6IrlJsbePKnLdhyKYSXYpVYH67Ks1K_-APwY5Es/s640/IMG_6049.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Happy Birthday, Bip.<br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Valentine Pancakes</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Skip told me he was wearing these medals because he was trying to dress like a "gangsta".</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gave himself "purple nurples". Nice.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thank goodness for Nana dressing us on Easter!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sugar Plum's big night (i.e. the night she got the sex talk. She had and continues to have more comments and questions than any of the kids so far.)</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Why work when you could be catching caterpillars?</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Snow boots and Slurpees</td></tr>
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<span id="goog_1752766865"></span><span id="goog_1752766866"></span><br />Annhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00906401217210340529noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1723116687074601909.post-42414355124871056492016-01-17T21:55:00.001-08:002016-01-17T21:55:25.662-08:00Happy New Year <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I stayed home from church today to be with Skip, who is sick for the 10th day in a row. (Actually, he felt much better on Friday and yesterday, so I thought the sickness was behind us. However, last night, he woke up with vomiting and stomach pain and then did not fully wake up until 1PM. Last Thursday, I took him to the doctor-----Hang on. Right now I can hear Jane explaining to Skip about why we celebrate Martin Luther King, Jr. Day--about how people with brown skin did not enjoy the same freedoms as people with light skin, and about how Dr. King worked to change that. :) -----Anyway, the doctor advised me to give Skip a couple more days to start feeling better, and if he didn't, to take a sample of his stool. I will be calling him (the doctor) tomorrow to see if I should go ahead and do that. At this point, I'm getting worried. Stomach pain, vomiting and diarrhea for 10 days off and on? Not normal. At least not for us....)</div>
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But yeah, since I had some quiet time in the house, I got to write on my blog. What a treat. </div>
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So 2015 is over. What a relief. It did end well, though. Our Christmas was wonderful and a couple days afterward, the kids and I headed to Utah to play with our cousins in the snow. That was wonderful, too. Brian and I have been getting along considerably better as well. Last night, we enjoyed a night together in Eugene and it was so wonderful. The food was good, and so was the conversation. </div>
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Brian mentioned to me that he's noticed that Camp really talks to me a lot. I said, "You mean<i> he talks</i> a lot? Or he talks <i>to me</i> a lot?" Brian said he thinks Camp really talks TO ME a lot! That makes me feel so happy! Yeah, I guess he does talk to me a lot! I'm so grateful and proud of the boy he has<br />
become. Sigh...<br />
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The other night, I was on the computer long after the kids were supposed to be in bed and asleep and Janey came up to me and put her arm around me and tried to cuddle. I hugged her back, but told her to go get back in bed. She didn't want to, but I told her to do it anyway. I was bugged at her for being out of bed. The next morning, I regretted it. She is such an easy, wonderful girl. Why didn't I take advantage of that alone time with her? I'll have to make it up to her. Maybe tonight I'll go get her after the other kids are asleep and color with her or do a puzzle. (I remember being a young girl and having a period of time when my mom let Sarah and I stay up late and work on a puzzle with her while we all ate Oreos and milk. Do you remember that, Sarah? ) A week or so ago, I flew out of town to attend Bud's funeral (which was wonderful--the funeral and the trip) and Skip woke up sick that morning, so I didn't feel comfortable sending him to Angie's like I had planned. Instead, I asked Jane if she would mind staying home from school with him. She's 10. And amazing. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUmNrcESXW9qR8W2qAY_9o-OPTbr0l6sNzHTmyRiOCiDpoj-kvaUe81rjni_4zsaqYXUgnj027vI3nLKc_NcG9acj6rOd7r_ohE7Ahm7P-T2iLkdz6zR5YiSEJw-DecJ9Nsaiz4XMGs7k/s1600/IMG_5653.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUmNrcESXW9qR8W2qAY_9o-OPTbr0l6sNzHTmyRiOCiDpoj-kvaUe81rjni_4zsaqYXUgnj027vI3nLKc_NcG9acj6rOd7r_ohE7Ahm7P-T2iLkdz6zR5YiSEJw-DecJ9Nsaiz4XMGs7k/s640/IMG_5653.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This year, we had Thanksgiving at the church with many of our ward friends. It was wonderful.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Skip's first picture of The Nativity</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I met a new friend at the Nativity Festival this year. He joined us on Christmas Eve and was wonderful company.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Robisons: Some of my favorite Christmas Eve guests</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Who knew?</span></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgENsNesK5ACVKsrHW4pLW5b3Xit6d1cBm_nFWCkKehlhjGjRAqIKcm4L1W1rUPohA5Oa8Qdt9NeqddVVuOOehXiIpGzUA3zRzNp-pLggU3giUxeYv-P6z19bHSBLhmZIYaXV0IFEW20g0/s1600/IMG_5920.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgENsNesK5ACVKsrHW4pLW5b3Xit6d1cBm_nFWCkKehlhjGjRAqIKcm4L1W1rUPohA5Oa8Qdt9NeqddVVuOOehXiIpGzUA3zRzNp-pLggU3giUxeYv-P6z19bHSBLhmZIYaXV0IFEW20g0/s640/IMG_5920.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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And my girl, Shugee. Man, what a fun girl. She is like the little performer in her class--always singing solos in the morning announcements and stuff. And she's back in gymnastics. The girl is strong. And she's been bugging me to take her on her special date--the one where Brian and I tell her about sex. I wonder if she knows what's coming. So far, none of our kids have freaked out like I did when I got the low-down. </div>
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And this Boy. <i>My baby. </i> Every day for as long as I can remember, I have told him to stop growing up. And yet in nine days--nine more x's on his Ninja Turtle calendar--my youngest will be 5. I hate that story. He can't wait, though. He has been asking me constantly when his birthday is for months. So I'm gonna try and make as big a deal of it as I can. Being as close to Christmas as it is, it is hard to try and think of birthday gifts for him, but I think we are going to get him some of his own art supplies (he has become an exceptionally good color-er and cutter-outer) and the Hungry Hungry Hippos game, and maybe a bubble gum machine. We'll see, though, because the boy does not eat healthfully. And then on the evening of his birthday, we are going to play <i>human</i> Hungry Hippos. Have you seen the videos on Youtube? He's gonna love it. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I finally got these faux fur pillows I've been wanting for a year. Love them.</td></tr>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/5D_3K1uBx9U/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/5D_3K1uBx9U?feature=player_embedded" style="clear: left; float: left;" width="320"></iframe><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/zAp1aTMh00U/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/zAp1aTMh00U?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
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I clearly missed my calling. :)</div>
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Thanks for reading. </div>
Annhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00906401217210340529noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1723116687074601909.post-24457182738311714192015-11-16T20:27:00.002-08:002015-11-16T20:33:32.261-08:00Time Flies and My Dresser Reveal<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I finally have a few seconds to write on my blog and all my words escape me. Sooooo.... </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAaSeEhSwaALkvnL2hlHhLIQWQEtwtHKCFnY29D-cKYBEXj5uEgjjXzu7B-uwzdzIMR617wiWjgF7hYhmoAffHFG5IBG0tVG2nzCYAUxeKbogFC49Cv0-koTQRMAmgJn9chASRgty8slk/s1600/IMG_5172.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAaSeEhSwaALkvnL2hlHhLIQWQEtwtHKCFnY29D-cKYBEXj5uEgjjXzu7B-uwzdzIMR617wiWjgF7hYhmoAffHFG5IBG0tVG2nzCYAUxeKbogFC49Cv0-koTQRMAmgJn9chASRgty8slk/s640/IMG_5172.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I saw this stick thing at a shop when I was shopping with Brooke. I'm gonna make one. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYcUJpxDZjtp8haTUzH54ZUgs70uhULiNCujXQueIUacOsbwKWDh_UAaTsbzYwe-NWsbpWw2O8cpn1a0_7chwCsb4803kMrCvJvClk9WyF0QynsrX1dLPBO7wOiwKFJEv15yACNE9uNpI/s1600/IMG_5289.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYcUJpxDZjtp8haTUzH54ZUgs70uhULiNCujXQueIUacOsbwKWDh_UAaTsbzYwe-NWsbpWw2O8cpn1a0_7chwCsb4803kMrCvJvClk9WyF0QynsrX1dLPBO7wOiwKFJEv15yACNE9uNpI/s640/IMG_5289.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Because it probably isn't clear--this is a crumb cake "8". </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of my favorite things about Camp is his confidence Here he is sporting mismatched socks, MY exercise pants, and a rag (that i use to clean the toilet) hanging from his pants. You know. Because all the professionals have toilet rags hanging from their pants.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At the last second, Brian Holmes made Janey a custom retainer with fangs. Lucky girl.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Things are actually going pretty well right now (knock on wood). Brian and I have had a few good weeks in the last month, and last week was especially good. We enjoyed a mini-getaway to Driftwood Shores last Friday and then went out to dinner and a movie on Saturday. (We saw the new James Bond movie. I wouldn't recommend it...unless you're a guy--or a woman whose husband is having a birthday and wants to go see it. Then go. ) But the biggest success of last week was that Brian and I had like TWO conversations --about business stuff--during which we did not argue or get mean or upset. And we had another one this morning. SQQUUEEAAALLL! That is HUGE! (Huge for the last six months, at the very least.) So I'm hoping we are truly on the road to recovery. Aaaannnd, I've been praying for the gift of Interpretation of Tongues. Specifically, I would like the gift to be able to understand Brian and have him understand me. That is what the gift of Interpretation of Tongues is, right? I think so. And I think Heavenly Father will answer my prayer. He always does. :)</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">If we're friends on Instagram, you may have already seen this, but I wanted to document it here, too--because it was a lot of work and I think it turned out awesome. I picked up this dresser at my favorite little thrift store in town for like 30 bucks.</span></div>
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It was originally much uglier than in the picture below because it had one of those yellowing, kinda shiny-type finishes that was on all mid-century furniture. But the top is not solid wood. It's a veneer. So the finish wasn't pretty. But anyway, I stripped the finish, did a lot of sanding, primed, sanded again, painted, and then added a non-yellowing clear coat. (I forgot the name of the product, but I could find it if you were curious. ) How do you like that for a tutorial?? </div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Oh, yeah. And I found these awesome pulls on Ebay and then picked up some Brasso to resurrect them. I used a little tube of gold leaf to fill in some of the grooves at the bottom of the dresser. What do you think?</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See that lovely valance thing over the window to the play room on the right? Right. How could you miss it? Well, our landlady said we could take it down! Yay! That will settle at least <i>some </i>of the turmoil inside me. :) And is the fact that my USA thing is not centered over the couch totally bugging you? Yeah, me, too. But I had to hang it on studs. Brian's gonna help me switch the location of the hangers on the back of it so that I can have it centered and still on the studs.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I scored this little bowl thing at a little antique-type shop when I was visiting Brooke. It makes me feel like my stuff is a bit more "collected over time" and not just collected at Homegoods. :)</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I am so happy with the bedding I collected for the boys' room. I got the striped flannel blankets and duvet covers at Pottery Barn and the velvet toss pillows at Joss & Main. If you look really closely, you can see the little green pom-poms on the corners of them. Perfect! </span><br />
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And this is the little table I traveled like 400 miles for. Well worth it. It's perfect! I plan to get <a href="http://www.overstock.com/Home-Garden/Retro-classic-White-Accent-Chairs-Set-of-2/4092961/product.html">this chair</a> to go with it:</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And I think maybe my shelf-decorating skills may be improving. I've always been terrible at decorating shelves. After staring at countless pictures, though, I feel like I'm learning that color, and proportion, and distribution, and scale all make a big difference. Hopefully I'll continue to learn. And check out the contact paper I lined the back of this book shelf with. Isn't it great?? I got it at Target for $30. I think the whole roll would have covered around 25 square feet. So that's pretty good. My little touches of fuchsia will have to go come Christmas when the red stuff comes out, but I've quite liked it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I picked up some fun wrapping paper at Homegoods last week--possibly the only money I'll be spending on Christmas decor this year...... Hmmm. I'm realizing that red stuff will not look good with most of these papers. Maybe I won't use the red stuff this year. Maybe it will be all neutrals and blues. We"ll see.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">So I'm writing on a different day now. Brian and I had another fight.... Sigh..... Marriage is <i>hard</i>. So, so hard. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">This last six months has been the hardest of our marriage since the first year. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> And even though we struggle often and I have to pray for the gift of Interpretation of Tongues, every night I also thank Heavenly Father for the nearly perfect life he's given me. I really do feel grateful. I feel grateful to be married at all, let alone to a really, really good man. And I'm sooooo grateful to be a mom. What a blessing! And I have a million extended family members whom I love and who love me. And I am healthy and strong, and I have money to buy bedding and go out to eat every so often and fly to Vegas for girls' reunions. That is the life I've always wanted. When I pray and verbalize my gratitude, I'm reminded that I need to LIVE my gratitude. You know? Be a doer of the word and not just a speaker of it, only. So I'm trying. I'm trying.</span></div>
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Annhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00906401217210340529noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1723116687074601909.post-32728562328596497472015-08-31T06:15:00.000-07:002015-08-31T07:09:53.823-07:00Couch RevealWell, I told you I'd be sharing the "after" of the couch I had reupholstered. Here's a reminder of what it used to look like:<span id="goog_908391592"></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsKeI2J4nP1O_wsFVu2mP5Au2-9ymj1U3qPExsE5OzmDq7xxy_6Z5e4RV3oRqK6vim5ZaUJ5r5xa0xSWFCBgqGgGdXaBZGdpVXWyj_8uEFxD6K1IUVKsQ20XzBiff_yqKje6YUdR7rP5w/s1600/IMG_4159.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsKeI2J4nP1O_wsFVu2mP5Au2-9ymj1U3qPExsE5OzmDq7xxy_6Z5e4RV3oRqK6vim5ZaUJ5r5xa0xSWFCBgqGgGdXaBZGdpVXWyj_8uEFxD6K1IUVKsQ20XzBiff_yqKje6YUdR7rP5w/s640/IMG_4159.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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What do you think? Hideous, right? Yes, but this couch has great, strong, Ethan Allen bones and a flat back and flat seat just like I've wanted. A flat back and flat seat means no cushions to break down and look tired and smashed. Yay! I also wasn't crazy about the camel back and the flared arms, so I decided to have Ray at Wheeler's Interiors rebuild the frame a bit while he was in the process of reupholstering it. I chose <a href="http://www.joann.com/home-decor-fabric-crypton-herringbone-cockatoo/9204777.html?green=11432546171">this fabric from Joann's</a>, which I got with a coupon, of course--and I love it. It is quite light in color, but it is a heavy duty polyester that is easily washed. Ray even made sure I had custom arm covers and a cover to go over the back for added protection and washability. Awesome. So here she is! </div>
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Quite an improvement, right? I think so. It really kills me that I don't have a pretty room in which to display my pretty couch, but oh well. You get the idea. It's not that this house <i>couldn't</i> be beautiful. ANY house can be beautiful. It's just that since we don't know how long we're gonna be in it, I'm not sure it's worth our time and effort <i>to make it</i> beautiful. You know what I mean? Anyway...<br />
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And remember this dresser that I picked up at a thrift store for like 30 bucks? Well, I did decide to paint it, and I'll be posting the finished pictures as soon as Brian helps me put on the new drawer pulls. <br />
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I stripped it down, primed it with an oil based Cover Stain primer and then sanded it down smooth. <br />
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I can't wait to show you what it looks like now! <br />
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Also, in case you're interested--this is the color I'd like to paint our next house. I love it! I think it is the perfect silvery-grey with blue undertones. This picture is not ideal, but trust me. It's awesome. :)<br />
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And this is the girls' bedding and boys' bedding, respectively, that i picked out for the new house (I thought I'd start collecting things early since I know I'll have zero dollars for decorating once the house is finished. As it turns out, I was shopping a bit<i> too</i> early, so I decided to take advantage of it anyway. Like I mentioned on IG, You don't have to have a pretty house to have a pretty bed. I plan to pair the girls' bedding with their black and white upholstered headboards from the last hough (do you remember them?) and accent in bright pink. The green and white bedding is actually from the girls' section at Pottery Barn, but I figure I can boyify it if I accent in navy and maybe a few touches of brown or orange. We'll see. </div>
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I can't live without decorating. I can't live without words, and I can't live without decorating....or my family. Or water. </div>
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And in case you've ever wondered what kind of quality IKEA furniture is made of, here is a little peek inside. I let my kids go to town on this when we were moving, and they totally loved it. Don't worry. This won't keep me from continuing to shop at IKEA, either, but it is quite offensive to Brian. He has no tolerance for poor quality. </div>
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Anyway, if you're out there....stay tuned. :)</div>
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<span id="goog_908391591"></span>Annhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00906401217210340529noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1723116687074601909.post-53354585066164073252015-08-05T21:29:00.002-07:002015-08-08T08:10:31.873-07:00Skip--Who Used to be Rich Last SundayRight now it is 10:20 A.M. and I am alone in the house. Camp and Jane are out of town with Becky and my mom, respectively (lucky!) and Danin and Skip are at Vacation Bible School until noon. So I'm eating an Oreo blizzard for breakfast and writing on my blog.<br />
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Brian and I have spent countless hours over the last three weeks packing up, laying flooring, painting, touching up and cleaning our Mariners house. Last night I mopped my way to the front door and said good-bye.</div>
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I'll miss that house, but even more--I'll miss our neighborhood and neighbors. We were so safe and taken care of there. Do you know that for the nine years we lived there, I don't know that we ever used a key to get into our house? That's partly because we always went through the garage, but also because we so rarely locked our doors. For years, I have left my purse and keys in my unlocked van in the driveway. Countless times, we have driven away from the house and unknowingly left our front door wide open--like all the way open--and I haven't worried about it. That's cool. The kids have essentially had a gated-off circular track on which to safely ride their bikes and a plethora of other wheeled apparatuses. We've had neighbors call us before Halloween just to confirm that our kids would be trick-or-treating. When Halloween fell on a Sunday, they gladly agreed to let the kids come a day early. That's cool, too. We've had neighbors join us for Christmas Eve dinner and and others for Easter dinner. And the Holmes have spoiled us rotten for nine years--with attention, with service, with ingredients we were missing at times, with treats, with friendship... We've just been so lucky. I guess I've already talked about all this though....</div>
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The good thing is--there are little blessing wherever you live. In the rental (we've had to call this house the rental to distinguish it from the Mariners house since we've been in and out of both for the last three weeks), we live across the street from the Glowacki's and that has already been <i>amazing. </i>They've already brought us banana-coconut muffins and entertained our kids for hours. I've even been able to have Ava babysit already. Sooo nice. We love them. </div>
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And this house is nice, too. It is not the new house that I have been decorating in my head for three years, but it is still a nice house. It has a sunny playroom, people. And storage. Lots of storage. Could it get any better? Well, yes, it could. But seriously--nothing says luxury to me like storage and a playroom.</div>
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So yeah, the new house.... Sigh... We are so not close to starting it yet. Did I tell you that we decided to draw the plans ourselves? It seemed like such a good idea to Brian, but then he got too busy to work on them. And there's no telling when he'll ever find the time.. I wish I could say this hasn't been super hard for me, but i'll be honest. This has been <i>super</i> hard for me. I've been looking forward to this ever since we bought our lot back in 2008, and the only thing keeping us from building on it has been the sale of our Mariners house. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh449ksrO921O4Pppe4BCWHRpY2t5lHe4_MQ3eqU1FutzGvkfwGqRYgDSE78lZPC80KNl03zJKJUo6jDNzJJ47sBw4lJHp4f_Ep7I-cTN7B-RoDG1eVK8OteDK9a-8rwx4HdmYB-CtIzEY/s1600/IMG_4284.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh449ksrO921O4Pppe4BCWHRpY2t5lHe4_MQ3eqU1FutzGvkfwGqRYgDSE78lZPC80KNl03zJKJUo6jDNzJJ47sBw4lJHp4f_Ep7I-cTN7B-RoDG1eVK8OteDK9a-8rwx4HdmYB-CtIzEY/s640/IMG_4284.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here is our floor plan. At least that part is mostly figured out. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And here is the basic front elevation. I'm hoping the facade will be grey shingles, though.</td></tr>
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I'm <i>trying</i> to keep perspective. I'm telling myself daily that many a life has been wasted dwelling on things <i>that moth and rust doth corrupt and thieves can break through and steal... </i>but it's hard. You know? It's hard. Not AS hard, though, now that we have actually moved into the rental. I'm arranging furniture and organizing closets, so my mind is busy and i'm still finding fulfillment in making things pretty the best i can. The hardest part, really, is just not knowing how long we'll be here--not knowing if it is worth it to paint the walls and put holes in them, or just wait it out. But I'll get through it. It has already caused so much fighting between Brian and me, and the logical part of my brain knows it is not worth that. There's nothing I'd rather do tonight when Brian finally gets home than to say, "Now that we're finally done with the other house, are you ready to work on the plans with me??" But I know that would not be wise. I know Brian would just be totally irritated and we would fight and no work on the plans would get done. And I'm trying to be wise for the first time in my life. Man, it's hard. How do wise people do it?</div>
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Hey, you wanna know what? Several months back, I was praying about how difficult and frustrating it is for me to have Brian be so averse to communication--specifically about serious, consequential-type matters. As I've told you, verbal communication (or even written, really. I'll take what I can get. As long as it includes <i>words</i>. ) is like nutrients and air to me. I need it to survive. I just want so badly to be able to explain my feelings and worries and anxieties to Brian and just have him listen and work them out with me--without getting mad and shutting down. But that never happens. So I was telling Heavenly Father that in my prayers one day, and he said to me--I mean, I <i>think</i> he said to me--I mean, he didn't really SAY anything to me. I just got the <i>feeling</i> he was saying to me: <i> Just tell ME. When you're worried and anxious and frustrated about something, come tell ME, and I will forward that message to Brian. It's easier for him to listen to </i>me<i>.</i> What a good idea! The problem is though, it is SO HARD to keep my mouth shut with Brian, relying on Heavenly Father to deliver the message. I haven't done it successfully yet. Or I HADN'T been successful at it...until about 10 days ago. </div>
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I had become really, really worried and anxious about a particular business situation and I desperately wanted to bring up the issue with Brian. I wanted to talk to him about it and come to an agreement. But he wouldn't have it. Soooo, I closed my mouth and walked away. And as I was leaving, the thought came back to me: <i>Tell me, instead. </i> So I called my mom. I told her about the prompting I had received months earlier and about the current situation. I asked her to pray with me that I'd be able to use self restraint like never before to keep my mouth shut on the matter and just trust that God would deliver the message. A while later, she called me back to let me know she felt confident I was doing the right thing. We agreed that we would pray together and I would not bring up the situation again with Brian. Rather, I would trust Brian to make the decision and hope that Heavenly Father would guide him. And guess what?? I'm doing it! I haven't brought it up since, and I'm having faith! Yay! There is hope for me, after all! Oh, man. I'm so proud of myself. (Then again, magic things do always happen when I have my mom praying about something with me. I've told you about the power of her prayers, right? If you have something you need prayers for, call her. On second thought, she might be too booked with my problems. You may want to try next month.) The thing is--even if Brian makes a decision I don't agree with, my prayers will not have been for not (can I even say that?), because I will have still succeeded at using self control and supporting Brian. So anyway...</div>
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Aaannndd, for the<i> second</i> time EVER, I resisted bringing up to Brian ANOTHER thing I became stressed and worried about. I just went to my room and prayed all the things I wanted Brian to consider and then I paced around the house for a while giving myself motivational pep talks. And I got through it! (I know what you're thinking. You're thinking<i> Man, I can understand why Brian wouldn't want to talk to you about anything. You're psycho!</i> I could be. I could be. </div>
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Yeah, so Brian and I have pretty much been fighting off and on for a few months now. But it will be all right. We'll get through it.</div>
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Other than that. The kids are doing well--sassy, man, I'll tell ya!--but well. We've had a wonderful summer so far. Our trip through Utah and Vegas was wonderful. It was relaxing and fun. Fun because I was with my family and I was relaxed. :) I'm so grateful for my family. </div>
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P.S. I almost forgot to mention the inspiration for this post's title. So a few months ago (as you may have seen on Instagram) Skip won $200 at our local Rhododendron Festival. Can you believe it? I thought Brian and I should be able to keep the money since it was our money that bought his winning raffle ticket, but Brian insisted he get to keep it. So anyway, he's had about 160 bucks in his money box for the last few months (after paying tithing and buying a play gun). Then, the other day, Camp became obsessed with one of those super cool, super fast remote control cars--the kind that go like 40mph and cost like $200. And he was able to convince Skip go in on it with him. So Skip contributed $160 and Camp contributed $20 (we found it for a good deal on Amazon). Oh, man! It's time for me to pick up my kids. I'll be back.</div>
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OK. Yeah, so anyway, Camp has this new, totally awesome toy and Skip--who used to be rich last Sunday--is broke. Five internet bucks for anyone who knows what this post's title is making reference to. (Note: internet bucks are only good on this blog :) )</div>
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P.S.S. A while ago, I bought this couch on Florence Classifieds. I loved it for its flat back and flat seat. Flat back and flat seat means no broken down, smashed cushions. Also, it is a $2000 Ethan Allan couch, so it's built pretty well. I had it professionally rebuilt (I had them alter the frame a bit) and reupholstered. It's actually been done for weeks, but because we've been moving and I'm now trying to figure out a place to put it, it is still waiting to come home. </div>
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I also scored these beauties at a thrift store for $20 each and can't wait to paint them in a bright gloss paint and have them upholstered in a bold corresponding fabric to complement my new couch. Stay tuned....</div>
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Annhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00906401217210340529noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1723116687074601909.post-81378193816379076692015-06-08T09:19:00.000-07:002015-06-08T13:29:36.524-07:00The House That Built MeMy favorite assignment of the first (and last) Interior Design class I took at BYU required that I write in detail about the home in which I grew up. I loved it. There was so much to say.<br />
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And there is so much to say <i>now</i>, about <a href="http://www.zillow.com/homes/8-Mariners-lane-florence,-or_rb/">this house</a> that I live in and love--<a href="http://www.zillow.com/homes/8-Mariners-lane-florence,-or_rb/">the house</a> that is now owned by someone else. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0OHpG2lxoAR6Wr8aL39FSAAo4UiVwLTmUdrej_xFBNU0x7NmEjNiYFrks25ISnfVWKsJAo581MKKiJW1z6u5D2wAdU8Dz-MJ6wY9cjxzWXB43v741zNtc0gFH2kp5S46bk6OBxwAlW3s/s1600/100_1122.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmMYGCR-sBPlCY-BPYWa4m2LiDiaUbrPHefNNmrP3LwS1CSBMm6HN0c_Or-vB3WiJ5rc8bILV30QTZWrWJjiVMhtP0uxSuk3MBZ0uT989qWoErvi49VLg7NeDzv3YjPm1t-MQcdTRNDVY/s1600/img_3024.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmMYGCR-sBPlCY-BPYWa4m2LiDiaUbrPHefNNmrP3LwS1CSBMm6HN0c_Or-vB3WiJ5rc8bILV30QTZWrWJjiVMhtP0uxSuk3MBZ0uT989qWoErvi49VLg7NeDzv3YjPm1t-MQcdTRNDVY/s640/img_3024.jpg" width="640" /></a><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0OHpG2lxoAR6Wr8aL39FSAAo4UiVwLTmUdrej_xFBNU0x7NmEjNiYFrks25ISnfVWKsJAo581MKKiJW1z6u5D2wAdU8Dz-MJ6wY9cjxzWXB43v741zNtc0gFH2kp5S46bk6OBxwAlW3s/s640/100_1122.JPG" width="640" />We didn't design this home to be for us. We planned to build and sell it. The lot is long and narrow, so I found a long narrow house plan online and tweeked it a bit. It wasn't until we had moved a bunch of our furniture into it in preparation for the 2006 Tour of Homes that we decided to buy it ourselves. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidB1crkeJLO4YQ1O2Ypm6EwKdUsjCNUFiU8bsdR5tzAECVTpOaVsctTcWlXz0PTQ_GGNLRdALLdRCncL4FsppoxBDPm_Knw7tm4QQZlYzgeVzv90zXubn-IyWLERp64D7sDOm4LUT_OcU/s1600/IMG_1428.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidB1crkeJLO4YQ1O2Ypm6EwKdUsjCNUFiU8bsdR5tzAECVTpOaVsctTcWlXz0PTQ_GGNLRdALLdRCncL4FsppoxBDPm_Knw7tm4QQZlYzgeVzv90zXubn-IyWLERp64D7sDOm4LUT_OcU/s640/IMG_1428.JPG" width="640" /></a>The front room started out as the cleanest, but least-used, room in the house. Before too long, though, I couldn't stand the fact that we were wasting valuable square-footage, so we knocked out a doorway that connected the front room with the kitchen, and the room inhaled new life. For the last few years, I have spent a considerable amount of time in this room, on the computer (doing payroll and taxes and other business stuff---and, let's be honest--shopping online) and looking out the front window where I can watch the kids play. I was sitting here watching out the window the first time (and most times after that) that my kids set up a little table at the end of our driveway at which to sell their artwork. I told them that maybe a dollar for each picture was too much. After Tammy walked over and bought several pictures, they told me I was wrong.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipofJLmTk0KCJ5VRDJKQqeoEhDeWq1NNd9xlVSc9SS6v5pj0ftaXeXXTJ4v4yWufMpnW7-bNtTj6XfHJIqIvV5JdXlFsJ_9UXtW_Ac4rf3vNZzVi0Og4Yq4A1G-yRzV-P-bda3YXAJwis/s1600/100_1948.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipofJLmTk0KCJ5VRDJKQqeoEhDeWq1NNd9xlVSc9SS6v5pj0ftaXeXXTJ4v4yWufMpnW7-bNtTj6XfHJIqIvV5JdXlFsJ_9UXtW_Ac4rf3vNZzVi0Og4Yq4A1G-yRzV-P-bda3YXAJwis/s640/100_1948.JPG" width="640" /></a>And of course I have spent AT LEAST half of the last nine years in this kitchen. I think my favorite things in the kitchen are my pot rack--because it's got lights and because I can just wash my pots and then hang them to dry--and my faucet. I like it because it has a goose neck that allows me to still wash really deep pots in my sink, even though the sink itself isn't super deep. (On a related note, I've realized that deep sinks are severely unergonomic (is that a word??) for me because I am just tall enough that reaching down into a deeper sink creates a noticeable strain on my back.) It's been in there that I <i>have</i> too often cried (and hollered and grunted) over spilled milk. Sigh...... And just last fall, Brian switched the location of the fridge and the pantry cupboard, and that has been a total game changer. And of course, so many friendships have been born and developed over the kitchen table. :)<br />
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The family room has been the location of every Christmas morning and every family prayer--it's the room with the couch and the TV, so it's the room we've lived in. Three of our four kids have learned to walk in that room.<br />
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Camp's and Skip's room was originally Janey's. I first painted the walls yellow, then green later--after the room became Camp's--and finally grey a couple years ago. It's walls and door are those that have endured years of frustration beatings. But they're still standing and they continue to enclose good memories: it's in there that the kids have slept on Christmas Eve; it's from there that Camp has called to me to come rub his back; its above that closet that we have kept the costume bucket and bean bags; its in there that Skip and his friends have taken the mattresses off the beds in order to hide in the secret compartments beneath them. It's in there that the boys have read and slept together. It was in there--in a wooden box that he built--that Camp got himself stuck and then prayed and cried as he watched Brian pass by outside the window as he(Brian) mowed the side-yard lawn. It was in there that Skip first learned to sort and put away his own laundry.<br />
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Janey's and Danin's room has only been three colors, but only because painting it became much harder once we put in the trim treatment on the walls--which I've loved. It's in there that I removed the closet doors in order to accommodate the "school room" that Janey created in her closet. It's from that window that the girls have continuously climbed--out onto the blue water barrels and into the backyard-- to escape from quiet time. It's in there that Danin scratched letters and artwork onto her dresser and peeled paint from the trim on the wall by her bed (that little devil!), and it's in there that many a piece of candy was smashed into the carpet. It's also been in that room that Janey and Danin have spent countess hours (supposed to be spent sleeping) playing and laughing and making humongous messes. I can hear them in there right now (at 10:37 P.M.) as I type.<br />
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In Brian's and my room--well, two babies have been made in that room, for starters. Ahem. There have been countless forts made under <strike>my</strike> our bed and with all of<strike> my</strike> our pillows. (Brian gets after me about that.) It is from our closet door that Brian hung the pull-up bar on which the kids love to swing and on which I have practiced to finally be able to do real pull-ups. It is our bedroom wall into which Brian punched a hole on a hectic, stressful Sunday morning several years back. It was on our bedroom floor that my kids and I knelt when we learned that one of my siblings was in need of our immediate and sincere prayers. (And it was in there by our bed that Brian prayed<br />
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for inspiration with regard to our lack of Christmas spirit, remember? ) It is from our bedroom<br />
window that we have most often watched the bears and other animals (including deer, coyote, turkeys, rabbits, birds and bobcat) enjoy our backyard. It is in our tub that Brian (primarily) has soaked after so many long, dirty races, and in which our kids and their friends have played after having gotten dirty outside. (The slanted side of the tub has often become a water-slide.) It is on our bathroom floor that every finger and toenail has been painted.<br />
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Our kids have enjoyed so many pot lucks and Easter egg hunts in our backyard. <br />
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<br />
And it has been in this home that we have had such wonderful, wonderful neighbors. Man, the Holmeses..... I cannot begin to tell you...<br />
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We have loved living here. Every night I thank Heavenly Father for having had such a safe and comfortable place to live. To me, our house is beautiful and I have felt grateful for every day that we have lived in it.<br />
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<br />Annhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00906401217210340529noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1723116687074601909.post-43704800578423944672015-05-08T12:47:00.000-07:002015-05-08T12:47:11.243-07:00Back in NYRight before I opened my eyes this morning, I was dreaming I was back at my Mom and Sister Reunion, and Allecia and I were in some kind of hot air balloon thing that was designed just like the chandelier that is hanging in my room--the one Brian made. We had to hang on to the frame so as to not fall out and go careening to the earth. And we actually weren't in NY this time. We were somewhere else--on a cruise, I think. But I was back at the reunion, so it was a good dream. <br />
<br />
Our trip to New York was super fun--the best M&S reunion yet, I'd say. We spent three full days in NYC, walking and exploring and experiencing New York City. My favorite parts? Feeding birds with a bird man in Washington Square, dancing in the subway station just before midnight, and eating together on Stone Street. But every minute was good. <br />
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Annhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00906401217210340529noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1723116687074601909.post-46522697911005714712015-05-05T08:48:00.000-07:002015-05-05T08:48:20.692-07:00Matlock and Ladybug PoopSoon after I was married, I got a job working at the Las Vegas courthouse. Many times during my lunch break, I would go down and watch my dad in court. He was right in the middle of that case where the lady had killed her mother (and shoved her body into a garbage can in her storage unit) in order to collect her social security money. I remember hearing the defense team's closing arguments and thinking my dad had his work cut out for him. Then, when my dad stood to give <i>his </i>closing argument, he seriously blew the defense out of the water. He was magnificent, and I wanted to cheer. I felt the same pride I felt that day in fourth grade when we went around the class saying what our dads did for a living and I got to say my dad was a lawyer. I was proud--not because we were rich, because we weren't. In fact, I spent most of my childhood thinking we were kinda poor)--but because my dad wore a suit to work and he worked hard every day, and never compromised his integrity doing it.<br />
<br />
But anyway, at the courthouse, I was on a team in charge of scanning old paper case files into the computer. We were not supposed to read the files, but it was awfully hard not to catch a few things, while were were straightening out pages and removing staples. And I remember that for several weeks, we were scanning cases from the rape unit. Oh, man. It was awful. I read so many horrible things. I remember reading a case about a girl who was a student at BYU and had been sexually abused for several years before going to college. Her case had finally gone to court... And during that time, I remember feeling so sick to my stomach every day--or more accurately--sick<i> to my spirit</i>. My spirit literally felt sick and depressed. Lucky for me, I remembered the lessons I had been taught my whole life in primary about listening to uplifting music as a means of focusing your thoughts on good things. So one day, I brought a portable CD player and earphones to work and I listened to hymns and Enya-type stuff while I scanned all those horrible files. And it helped. It protected my spirit. <br />
<br />
.........<br />
<br />
Do you know what one of the best parts of being a mother is for me? It is a feeling of safety and approval and loyalty from my children. I always know they love me and that at the end of the day--even if I've been a tyrant--they would <i>choose</i> me. Because I am their mother and they<i> know</i> me and <i>are comfortable</i> with me. I think they just assume I am smart and beautiful and talented--just because I am their mother. You know what I mean? I could be wrong, but I feel safe with my kids, and that's the point. I am really grateful for that. <br />
<br />
..........<br />
<br />
Yesterday, I was reminding Skip that he had a friend coming over. He told me that he didn't want that friend to come over because she hadn't let him hold the ladybug I had found the last time they had played together. I reminded him that right afterward, I had found him another ladybug that only<i> he</i> had gotten to hold. Our conversation continued as follows:<br />
<br />
<i>Skip: Yeah, but that ladybug pooped on me!</i><br />
<i>Me (in mocked disbelief): What?!</i><br />
<i>Skip: Yeah. Did you know that ladybugs poop? </i><br />
<i>Me: Yeah. Everything that's alive poops.</i><br />
<i>Skip: Yeah, but I don't like things to poop on me!</i><br />
<br />
I treasure these days.<br />
<br />
<br />Annhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00906401217210340529noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1723116687074601909.post-90179612150021880622015-05-01T07:06:00.001-07:002015-05-01T07:06:36.981-07:00EchoesI finished reading the Book of Mormon again this morning. <br />
<br />
Camp, Jane, Danin and Skip---<br />
<br />
When I was growing up, I saw Dona and Grandpa reading their scriptures all the time. I knew they loved reading their scriptures because of how often they did it and how often they talked about what they were reading. As a kid, I read my scriptures, too--mostly because that is what I was taught to do, but also because my parents bred in me a curiosity to find out what was so wonderful about the words written on all those pages. I wondered if someday I would say that I<i> loved</i> reading my scriptures, too. <br />
<br />
Now, 20 years later, I may not yet be able to say that<i> I love</i> reading my scriptures, because I still have a hard time making a habit of it at times. But I <i>can </i>say that I love what I read in the scriptures. And I <i>can </i>say that I've read the scriptures--particularly the Book of Mormon--so many times at this point that the words have started to echo in my mind. And sometimes the messages that God wants me to hear will come to me through all those words repeating in the spiritual part of my mind. I am grateful for that. Those words rescue me, just like the words of Alma regarding Jesus Christ rescued his son when he (Alma's son) was racked with the pains of Hell. <br />
<br />
And the Book of Mormon IS what it says it is. It is a second witness (the Bible is the first) that Jesus is the Christ. That message is repeated again and again and again. <br />
<br />
<i>For we labor diligently to write, to persuade our children, and also our brethren, to believe in Christ, and to be reconciled to God; for we know that it is by grace that we are saved, after all we can do...And we rejoice in Christ, we preach of Christ, we prophesy of Christ, and we write according to our prophecies, that our children may know to what source they may look for a remission of their sins. </i>Annhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00906401217210340529noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1723116687074601909.post-48355344287493463942015-04-30T06:59:00.002-07:002015-04-30T06:59:55.401-07:00Dreeeeeeaaaamm. Dream. Dream. Dreeeeaaaam.Last night I dreamed that Brian and I were back in our first year of marriage, and we were in a fight, and we were having our wedding reception on our 1st year anniversary. We showed up separately and in street clothes, and it was pretty awful. In my dream, a nice man--a friend of my parents--showed up and gave me (as a wedding gift) a handful of used, but nice, oil paints and brushes. <br />
<br />
Someone interpret that one. My interpretation: I'm still deeply scarred from the experiences of my first year of marriage.<br />
<br />
In other news, I uncovered a new, super big leaf this week. For the first time in my ENTIRE life, I developed a zit that I have not tried to pop. I have left it alone! And you know what?? It is now going away! This is a HUGE step for me. Because I'm a picker. More on that later.Annhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00906401217210340529noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1723116687074601909.post-28797181036048592732015-04-29T19:20:00.002-07:002015-04-29T19:20:41.545-07:00FightingBrian and I just had an argument at the dinner table so awful that it culminated in Brian and I screaming at one another and all four of our children crying. I feel so angry at Brian and so angry and disgusted with myself. We were both wrong. Really, really wrong. Why don't I ever learn? Annhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00906401217210340529noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1723116687074601909.post-26726065766080584142015-03-09T19:15:00.004-07:002015-03-09T19:15:44.442-07:00That's Bush LeagueAs we were just leaving the restaurant where we had dinner (thank you, Chad and Kim for the gift certificate!), Brian and Skip (who just turned FOUR, if you remember) had the following conversation:<br />
<br />
B: "Ha ha. You just walked into a tree."<br />
<br />
S: "No I didn't! That's not a tree!"<br />
<br />
B: "What is it?" <br />
<br />
S: "It's a bush!" <br />
<br />
B: "You're a bush."<br />
<br />
S: "Your mom's a bush!"<br />
<br />
<br />
Don't take it personally, though, Becky. Sigh.....Annhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00906401217210340529noreply@blogger.com2