recycle!

#5 is an English Major with a French minor. Between you and me, she is a book snob. She has particular tastes and anyone who reads "fluff" just make her crazy. Part of her education required her to study "Romanticism" -which she abhors. She would rather sit through a Lawrence Welk revival than to ever have to read and or discuss romantic poetry again.

When I saw the state of one of her bookcases (wobbly!) I thought the best thing to do would be to try to somehow secure it. Limited tools and finances led me to recycle! She handed me a stack of poetry books and there you go! I started the project without her knowledge and got one side completely done before she came home and discovered my creative side. We needed to leave and gather some other things before the stores closed, so her best friend said she would stay behind and work on the book case. She had it almost finished by the time we got back home! I love the way it turned out, it was really cool and for an English major, well, what more could she want than book shelves full of words?

Thanks D! What a great friend!

Click on the photos for a closer look!

Whatever You Want - part deux

If you read this post a week or so ago, you know how frustrated I was with trying to find a new sewing machine. E-freaking-gads.

Well I exhausted all my resources, made enemies out of long time friends, distanced relatives and basically drove my husband to drink (mom prophesied he smoke some day, I suppose drinking is just as bad, oh well.). So Thor has been hitting the rootbeer floats pretty hard lately. He says it's from his work, but I think there's residual stress from having to listen to me vent for two months.

One thing we have learned from all this is that whatever you want in life will take twice as much as you expect it to. When you're a kid you think "Hooray! I'll graduate from high school and then it will be over!" Until you realize that you still need an additional 4-6 years of formal education; and then there are those "required" continuing educational classes or seminars that one must attend if they expect any kind of increase in earnings. Mothers are another good case for this. They think "Sure, it's going to be nine months of agony, but then the baby will come and things can never be as bad as that pregnancy." Well until you realize that your body just stores up all that it put on hold for nine months, and lets you deal with it as you feed another person from your own physical resources. Don't get me started on potty training or getting rid of that sippy cup.

Thor and I went to Utah. Along the way we saw a really nice little boat. Thor said, "That's a really nice little boat!" It only cost $600.00 but we were both sure that it would be the perfect size for a vacation on a lake with a couple of the kids, or for them to borrow a family at a time. The trouble is, everything is always twice as much as you expect. $600.00 for the boat, and a trailer to haul it around in would be at least another $600.00. 1,200 reasons why Thor and I do not have a boat.

We drove down the road a way and saw a canoe! A really nice canoe for only $300.00! I said, "Hey, how 'bout a canoe? Only $300.00!" Thor looked at me and said, "Yes, but you'll need another $300.00 for a roof rack on the car; and do you see the flat back on the canoe? That's for a little outboard motor. Those don't come cheap either. With fishing licenses for everyone, bait, rods, reels, tackle boxes, renting a cabin at the lake and food for a week, etc. we're looking at more than the boat cost!"

It's the same with fast food. You get the dollar hamburger and they tack on another dollar for the soda. We're dead meat. All of us.

I finally ended up buying a sewing machine. I had originally decided that I had saved (well over) $350.00 and that would be my budget. In the end the dumb machine cost $745.00. Holy Toledo. I get the wonderment home and for the past two days reading the (War and Peace sized) manual has consumed my every minute. This new machine is computerized! Wahoo! To a point. Now the darned thing is smarted than I am.

Today I sat down to see if I could push all the right buttons and give the little lady a test run. I went to my scrap fabric. Hmm, silk, felt, heavy Teflon coated quilted fabric for a new ironing board cover, ummm, (dig dig dig) oh! um, (dig dig dig) no -can't use organza, tulle? nope. Stink! I have nothing but weirdo fabrics in my scrap bag! No worries, I'll grab ten bucks and head down to the store, I need a few other sewing things to get officially started.

I run down to the fabric store... I grab a half yard of plain cotton, 70% off (orange tag!), and then remember I need "special" bobbin thread, grab some of that, also, if I am going to test the embroidery, I will need "embroidery" thread, on sale -buy two get one, oh and the stiff backing stuff so that the fabric doesn't pucker, oooooo.k. Done. $25. and change.

St Petersburg! This is getting ridiculous! But there you have it, everything doubles!

All in all though, my happiness doubled as well. You see, for the first time -ever- I made button holes without cursing! I also (machine) embroidered the first try and the second try without any complications! Who knew this was possible? Raise of hands??? Yeah? Me neither! I wrote names and companies and titles and love notes and drove that fabric all over the place with stitches that looked like leaves and hearts and small tiny crocodiles -all without swearing!

It's a Festivus Miracle!

I (machine) smocked! I 'drew' a dish!
I blind hemmed, and made a fish!

I wrote monograms and "Mickey Mouse",
and 'his -n-hers' and "Welcome to our House!"

I'm giddy and hysterical!
I sat all day and played!

I puffed a little baby sleeve!
(for 750 paid!)

From now on I'll be sewing
so much they'll think I'm lost.

Baby clothes and backpacks,
equal to Prada's cost!

Between the price of fabric
and machine's (that do inspire),

I'm afraid I'll have to tell Thor:
"Sorry Babe, you can't retire!"

You're o.k. I'm o.k.

Olly with the ladies
Originally uploaded by Oliver Steeds

I've been out and about lately, reading, pondering. Seems we bloggers have aging on our minds. So who wants to be America's Top Model? I guess, in a way, we all do. But then there's me. I'm some what low maintenance.

I met my best girl friend years ago. She is tiny in height in shape, but never in hair, nails, or ideas. She is huge with ideas. And generosity, but that's another post. My best girlfriend has always tried to "girlify" me, you know, help me dress better, wear make up, do something -anything- with my hair and generally fem up a bit. o.k. It's not like I'm a lumberjack, but that I am more the hippy chick wanna be. If I had my way I'd look similar to Dharma's mom, Abby Fincklestein, but I'm no where near that cute.

I gave up make up in the 70's because it was just to suffocating on my skin and after a couple of hours I looked like a raccoon anyway. Back then I was 105lbs. with stick straight hair. In the 80's I wanted big hair (read BIG HAIR) like everyone else. So I fried the juju out of it. I also gained a lot of weight so I ended up looking much like a before photo of Richard Simmons...no one wants that, so I eased up on the perms.

Most of the 90's and, up until recent dates, I lived in the perma-pony tail, still sans make up, and let my casual dress lead the way. I wear a suit to church on Sundays because grown up ladies are supposed to do that, but frankly, I'm not a fan. I would love to wear my peasant blouses, broomstick skirt and berks, but I do know that I don't look like Abby enough to get away with that. I don't dye my hair. I have really nice colour anyway, who cares if it is going gray now. I'm 50, deal. I both fell into the "beauty" trap and avoided it, I'm an enigma, go figure. But I am aging and with age comes wisdom, or at least one can hope.

There are wrinkles now. There is the funky stretchy skin all over and the bread dough tummy... probably from eating too much bread. I lose more hair on the pillow than Thor ever will. I shed. Holy cow, do I shed!

But then I think about the women on my favourite t.v. show, the women of the Kombai and Mek tribes. Beautiful black women who have lived their lives in the wilderness of their countries, no make up, no lotions, no Victoria Secret, no Spanks, no toothbrush or nightly showers, no clothes or shoes. No models to speak of, no bill boards or infomercials, no make up counter at the center of the village, nothing. What would Carrie Bradshaw do? Probably throw her Prada pursed, Manolo Blahnik shod and Victor and Rolf draped self off the nearest cliff.

I look at my face in the mirror and see the crow's feet beginning to hop around, I see the laugh lines and my still crooked 'period' teeth. I see the "highlights" of gray in my charcoal hair. I feel the aches and pains from standing on a ladder one too many times. But I also see the wisdom that is coming with each year, the not worrying about the little things anymore, the ability to let things go that are no longer important.

I look to the women who see me as the young kid, and who laugh out loud at all the fuss about carbs, low-fat yogurt and the number of inches on your heels. One of my dear friends, in her 80's, just last week shared with our lunch group how she just looked straight at her doctor and told him he could jump in a lake, she was fine with her weight and at her age she wasn't about to go on a diet. Don't get me wrong, she does water aerobics three times a week, and takes full care of her ailing hubby all the while pulling off a pretty stressful and time consuming church job. She takes care of herself, but she doesn't worry about the outside too much any more. "It's great to go to the pool now. No one cares if you're too fat if you're in your 80s!" She says with a laugh. "You should see those tiny little 25 yr olds! They worry about every little jiggle. They don't realize men LOVE jiggles!" With age came confidence in her true self; added pounds and all.

We live in the U.S. The birthplace of feminism, which was supposed to give us all the "go ahead" to be what we wanted to be rather than having to be what someone else decided for us. And yet, for all those grandiose ideas we all still look to Carry as the role model, as the "it" girl. (a women, I might add, who has wrinkles, smokes like a freaking chimney, colours her hair, and -for all her liberated lifestyle- only wanted what most of us already have, a husband.) What happened to being o.k. and good enough in our own skin? What happened to being revered for who we are and not for what we own, wear, or how large or small certain parts of our anatomy are?

Look at the women in the photo above. Confident, learned, knowing, even sassy. These women grew into themselves not a size 0 designer label. They grew into what they were divinely designed to do. As young women they had full round hips and breasts. As their children grew away from a mother's need, these women's bodies changed and adapted to their new age. Are these women wistful that their bodies have changed, drastically? Maybe. But they go with it anyway. They add to their dog teeth necklace, honours and trophies for their abilities and skills, not for their collection of Jimmy Choos, snow white teeth, or size two body after fourty.

They sag. Their legs are scarred and pocked. The skin drapes over their ligaments and tell the struggle of their existence and experience. Their hair is a ball of woolen snarls, but their eyes... look at their eyes.

I'll give you a minute, go on, click on the photo and check it out as large as it comes. Look at the women.

I'll tell you right now the two on the outside, well, I would love to talk with them. Don't they look fabulous? They look like they have something to say! All three of them look smart, confident, strong in opinion and ethics, interesting and humourous. Wouldn't it be grand if someone saw a photo of us, no clothes, no make up, looking straight into the lens and could say that about each of us?

Now that gal in the middle, don't mess with her, she knows what she wants and I bet she gets it...every time. She doesn't look angry or overbearing, but defined, focused, purposed, and even humble. I bet she is a good friend. Dependable. Sure. The gal on the left, seems like the gal in high school who had it all together, a bit of attitude - the good kind- and always on the edge of laughter, the gal who went to work and got it done. The cutie on the right, I want to know her the most. She just looks like she is ready to share a good story, such smiling eyes.

In their tribe these women will be worked literally to death. Yet in that work will come their honour also. They will be praised for the children they bring into the world, rear and train. As they become older their knowledge will be sought after, and as elders they will be regarded as wise and powerful. Even in their death they will watch over their children and grandchildren and the tribe as a whole. They are revered because they are women. That's enough.

My point is this: Take care of yourself. Eat right, exercise, keep moving, stay involved, but for heaven's sake, take a look in the mirror and give yourself a break. You were designed to wrinkle, gray, and shift your body weight. It happens, it's o.k. Embrace the fact you are aging, it's certainly better than the alternative! Dye your hair if it makes you feel better, but don't feel bad if you don't. Diet if you like doing that, but it's o.k. to buy a size larger (or even more!) than you did when you were young and single. Relax, you're going to be fine the way you are.

Being you is enough.

Latest Project

O.k. So I'm writing this after a long day, 9:30 and I am just walking in the door.

Here's the gig: We're expecting approximately 700+ women for a inspirational musical presentation, 2 90-minute performances, Friday night and Saturday morning. We have a professional trio of women who sing, dance and perform who are willing to come on their dime and do this for us FOR FREE!

WE are very excited to say the least. So for the last year or so we have planned and prepped and tomorrow is the first big day.

This morning I went shopping with an other gal for the dinners and lunches we are providing. We're making crescents filled with home made chicken salad with grapes, celery, craisins, and poppy seeds. A side dish of "frog eye" salad, chips, celery and carrot sticks, a bottle of water and a double chocolate brownie. All home made from scratch. I prepped the celery today, and the other gal prepped the grapes.

Tonight we met down at the building. We put up a false ceiling and wall drapes of chiffon, a platform stage, and 400 chairs covered with chair drapes that go to the floor, and came home to collapse until tomorrow.

Tomorrow (which, when you read this will be today) we'll meet and begin cooking. Broil chicken, chop, blend, mix, fill... and feed 400 women! Once the performance begins I will be taking photos of the event.

On Saturday we'll do it all over again, then tear down, and drive our performers to the airport.

Sunday, if all goes well and I am still alive, I'll post photos.

Me and Dory

I remember being a (very) young bride; and life, it seemed, would never get around to happening for me. I felt then, and still do at times, that I had lived through a tumultuous childhood fraught with many trials that not one of my peers had. I was a bottom feeder, and I felt as though I would never see the top of the tank. Still, there was sibling love, remembrances of giggles and good times, and hope.

I was 18 and my new husband was a very old and wise 19. We moved into a small apartment in a bad neighborhood and thrived on the extra $12.00 a week we had after we paid all our bills. We kind of threw ourselves into the deep end and learned to swim with the currents. Tuna was 52cents a can then. I would measure the economy by that can of tuna for years. Anyone wanting to know our fiduciary skills could monitor it easily by checking out the counter in the kitchen. It would be 20+ years before we would splurge on paper towels.

Prior to our marriage Thor and I had long discussions on children, how many, how soon, how to rear, where to rear them, what kinds of discipline, even if they would share rooms or get a car at 16 if we had money enough. We made goals for home, education, work, and missions before we ever "walked down the aisle." One of those goals was to retire by age 40. We did the math and decided that we could do it.

Well, time goes by and the storms came and went. But you know, even with several years of absolutely no work (hello 80's recession) we were still 'vested' and eligible for retirement at age 42. Wisdom somehow comes with age (at least one hopes), and with that we changed gears and decided that in this new economy, tuna @ $3.49, we probably should continue working and bank more hours into the pension fund. "...just keep swimming!"

In a way it has proven to be a greater blessing than I had anticipated. In these later years Thor's job remained in the same field, but his duties and responsibilities changed. He was now working behind a desk, and often behind the wheel or in the air. He has been sent all over the US and Canada to learn and provide a better way of life for those in his company. He has had opportunities and experiences we never dreamed of. I have also.

As a little girl I could never have hoped for the blessings I have been given. For the trips with Thor to Alaska or Hawaii, to Washington and Washington D.C., to Las Vegas (which I am never really fond of, but I do enjoy being with Thor) and Monterey. Heck, up until 8 or so years ago I had never even considered getting on a plane!

I have met all different people and seen many different cities. I head for the 'sights' while Thor is stuck in a basement. At night we drive to see what the non-tourists do and where they live. I am always able to find interesting places and new things, even if I have been there before.

Tomorrow we head out again to Las Vegas. I will visit with some family and do a lot of room staying! I can catch up on some much needed reading and do a bit of photo shooting. I'll be sure to post the days finds.

I'm not really sure what this post is about other than the idea of sometimes life throws you into the deep end, you get chased by sharks, you ride the swells and surf the waves. As a child I learned so much more because of the 'breakers'. As an adult the 'waves' have also taught me, but they have also been terrific fun.

I have made it to the top of the tank many times during my life. For the most part I live among the kelp, in the middle, a little above and a little below. I just keep swimming.

In the end, looking back, my curvy little knot in the string, my swim in life's ocean, has been very blessed. I am pretty blessed.

blessings journal

In his talk, O Remember, Remember President Eyring encouraged us to write down the blessings in our lives on a daily basis. An excerpt from that talk:

"When our children were very small, I started to write down a few things about what happened every day. Let me tell you how that got started. I came home late from a Church assignment. It was after dark. My father-in-law, who lived near us, surprised me as I walked toward the front door of my house. He was carrying a load of pipes over his shoulder, walking very fast and dressed in his work clothes. I knew that he had been building a system to pump water from a stream below us up to our property.

He smiled, spoke softly, and then rushed past me into the darkness to go on with his work. I took a few steps toward the house, thinking of what he was doing for us, and just as I got to the door, I heard in my mind—not in my own voice—these words: “I’m not giving you these experiences for yourself. Write them down.”

I went inside. I didn’t go to bed. Although I was tired, I took out some paper and began to write. And as I did, I understood the message I had heard in my mind. I was supposed to record for my children to read, someday in the future, how I had seen the hand of God blessing our family. Grandpa didn’t have to do what he was doing for us. He could have had someone else do it or not have done it at all. But he was serving us, his family, in the way covenant disciples of Jesus Christ always do. I knew that was true. And so I wrote it down, so that my children could have the memory someday when they would need it.

I wrote down a few lines every day for years. I never missed a day no matter how tired I was or how early I would have to start the next day. Before I would write, I would ponder this question: “Have I seen the hand of God reaching out to touch us or our children or our family today?” As I kept at it, something began to happen. As I would cast my mind over the day, I would see evidence of what God had done for one of us that I had not recognized in the busy moments of the day. As that happened, and it happened often, I realized that trying to remember had allowed God to show me what He had done.

More than gratitude began to grow in my heart. Testimony grew. I became ever more certain that our Heavenly Father hears and answers prayers. I felt more gratitude for the softening and refining that come because of the Atonement of the Savior Jesus Christ. And I grew more confident that the Holy Ghost can bring all things to our remembrance—even things we did not notice or pay attention to when they happened.

The years have gone by. My boys are grown men. And now and then one of them will surprise me by saying, “Dad, I was reading in my copy of the journal about when . . . ” and then he will tell me about how reading of what happened long ago helped him notice something God had done in his day.

My point is to urge you to find ways to recognize and remember God’s kindness. It will build our testimonies. You may not keep a journal. You may not share whatever record you keep with those you love and serve. But you and they will be blessed as you remember what the Lord has done. You remember that song we sometimes sing: “Count your many blessings; name them one by one, And it will surprise you what the Lord has done.”

By clicking on the link you can take the time to read the entire talk, which is well worth the extra few minutes. President Eyring is an amazing man with a keen mind and great insights. He's one of my favorites!

I am going to take his advice. I already have a journal picked out and I am going to try and make this a daily habit. How about you? Why not go out, find a great new journal that will inspire you to write down those good, positive things in your life? Wouldn't it be wonderful, to read back on this next year and see just how many good things came your way each day? It would be such a great way to live, seeing the good. Many of the blogs out there participate in daily gratitudes, that's awesome!

So we have a few days to go out and get ourselves ready. Or if you already have a blank journal lying around, how about tonight? Surely good things happened over the Christmas Holiday that insured many blessings on your family. Why not write them down?

Chris

From before the beginning of the world we knew the plan. We would wait for our turn on Earth, grab a body, learn as much as we could, experience life, and be tested...again, and again, and again.

For Chris, well, he followed the plan to almost perfection. He was one of the valiant, saved for the latter days, to be tried and tested and learn and grow. He had this warm shy smile that got him into both your heart and into "fun". Some of his tests were more difficult than others but he always found a way to pass. Some who didn't know him well enough may have thought he was full of spit and vinegar or perhaps walked to close to the edge. To those of us who know him, we "get" him. We know that he felt if you weren't living on the edge you were probably taking up too much room. He explored everything good and exciting. He enjoyed company. He made a friend of pretty much everyone.

Chris was at our house from a very early age. His giggle was more often heard than words, and his help offered more than a complaint. He seriously would have given you anything you required of him and was always happy to share. Not a normal thing for a small kid or even a teen aged boy, and magnified as a young adult. He had no rules for friendship, other than everyone deserves a friend. Even a stranger. Sometimes that scared those of us who had a bit more wisdom, but somehow he always came out ahead of the game because of his generosity.

He was constantly encouraging our son to this or that and they had so many adventures. After talking with #4, I think those adventures have now become sacred to him. He thinks of Chris as his brother, he felt it when he passed away, before any one could explain to him, #4 "just knew".
I went to to personally tell #4. I went to his church and went in search of him, thinking I would pull him out of the main worship service. As I walked down the main hall I saw #4 standing there, looking confused. When he saw me, he began to tear. I started to ask him. "Did some.." And he stopped me short. "Mom. Your here to tell me Chris died, right?" "Yes. Who told you?" "No one. I just felt it. I felt it all morning. Seeing you just confirmed it." And he began to cry.

Chris has so much pain recently. So much change in his life that he could not control. He was struggling with making new life plans, finding his way on an altered course. Trying to be optimistic about remaking his life to fit his new body. He had been given so many tests.

They say we are here to take tests. Chris passed. He passed all of his tests well and now he has graduated with honours. He is on to greater, higher education. And as in most graduations, there are tears of both sadness and joy. Hope for the future and what will be accomplished and fondness in the memories of the days we all shared while learning together.

I know Chris is a smart young man. I know he knows what his future holds and I am positive he is making new friends, renewing old relationships and shyly giggling while being a friend to everyone he meets.