what's next?

Ever notice how just when you're doing something really good, really bad things happen. I'm beginning to think maybe I should just stop doing good things altogether.

Good thing: singing solo in our 10 virgins parable for the relief society birthday thing
Bad thing: GIANT hole in the ceiling due to a roof leak

Good thing: running the book fair at Girl Child's school
Bad thing: throwing my back out whilst folding laundry

Good thing: singing a dang solo in our 10 virgins parable for the relief society birthday thing- it so counts twice.
Bad thing: the naughty dog marking his spot on the carpet downstairs- again

Do you see a pattern too? Hopefully they're isolated events and not the start of a trend.

the thing which I swore I'd never again write of

A Christmas miracle has taken place, oh, it was a day late- but inspired by Christ himself, so it totally counts.

Before I get to the miracle part, I must confess, I've been quite neglectful of this here piece of the world wide web. Just know-it had to be done, or the most foul, and frankly, pathetic posts would have polluted the internet, of which I may never have regained your respect or kind thoughts again.

The miracle was necessitated by my own contemptuous attitude, and ungratefulness, and luckily I came to my senses and was sufficiently humbled before it was necessary to be compelled to be humbled. Thank Heavens for that.

For 5 glorious days I had my deepest desire granted. There were to be babies at our house, well in all likelihood, just one- but nonetheless, one that would not leave at 5:00 pm. And before I could wrap my happy little head around it, the rug- upon which I was dancing even- was yanked out from beneath me. The weeks ensuing were not pretty. I was not pretty.

And then it was time for the family Christmas party- with all of the extended family, and all of those married nieces & nephews, and all of their babies and pregnant selves. It was hard that night to be happy for Christmas, as hard as that lump in my throat was to swallow- it never really went down all the way that night.

Thankfully we had church the next day, and although I knew I should have petitioned for comfort, I was too proud and angry for that. I was acting like a snotty teenager where my prayers were concerned- giving the silent treatment, when I should have been asking for solace. I don't recall what exactly was said in church, but I felt my Father in Heaven's love- and the spirit of Christmas that was so lacking for me this season. I got up that morning wishing I could take down all of the decorations, glad it was finally over, and came home feeling the love and gratitude for my Savior that this time of year, especially, calls for.

It was a day after Christmas miracle, which is much better than any day after Christmas sale if you ask me.

golf lessons

* warning, the following contains heavy sarcasm, and is a joke loosely based on an actual conversation. And I truly do love those teens of the '00's

I'm sorry I haven't posted in a while, I've been too busy judging the youth of today. The problem, as everyone knows, is that the youth of generation "next" (and you know who you are) are only concerned with having fun. Since when was life fun, I'd like to know? Since when was work an entertaining romp? Since never.

Mary Poppins tried to sell us that bill of goods 40 years ago, but most of us were smart enough to know better. But not the youth of today. Everything is fun, fun, fun. Everything is a circus with free, limitless pony rides. With their texting and their youtube shows, I tell you! Well, anyway.

The thing that really bothers me about this listless, vile generation is that they have no concept of winning. They have yet to learn a valuable lesson: that winning is everything. I hate it. Work and winning go hand and hand, but don't tell that to the teens of the 00's, with their Rihanna and their krump dancing.

Perfect example: The youth playing indoor mini-golf. As the lone winning-minded adult on my team I felt I had the duty to teach them about winning. But no- they were all cheering for the other teams and high fiving their mistakes away with some good natured ribbing thrown in for good measure. They weren't learning about real life. But they were sure having fun! Even the other leaders were embracing this whole new 'lets just play for fun attitude'. Big enablers.

I don't know what to do about the youth of today. It makes me sick even thinking about it. Do you have any ideas? What's that? Paper routes? That's so 80's. What else? Free car washes? Good luck! They just make fun posters and soak each other with suds. I give up.

I'm not angry, just disappointed. Well, I'm like 60% angry and 40% disappointed. I bet forty years from now our President will be some Red Bull addict who sits at home playing Garage Band. It's basically the apocalypse. Sound bleak? Well, don't kill the messenger.

the trek saga: part 3

And Lo, it came to pass that the trek was to be embarked upon, and it was good.

It was breezy, not too hot- the perfect day to trek if ever there was one. Our company was first out and apparently we set such a fast pace that we were more than half way done before lunch time. The consequence: women's pull after lunch, and red company got moved to the back {those strong Strongs- setting the pace!}. We splashed through mud, pulled through puddles, and the Schroedad even carried one of our daughters across on his back. The missionaries told of heroic stories of perseverance and rescue, we were all humbled.

Our Stake President called all of the men together and took them up the hill- told them that we women didn't really need them and they needed to be worthy enough for us to want them around, or something that went a little like that.

We sang 'As Sisters In Zion', were told that we are stronger than we think we are and that we could do this. That when our trials come, not to ask why me, but instead to ask why not me. Our trials are what acquaint us with God and we're pretty lucky to be chosen to be tried. I cried. we prayed.

We pulled our handcarts up the steep hill, lined with misty-eyed men, we sang hymns to them while they watched in silent awe. By the end the young men were pulling hats down and sunglasses on to hide the tears, the old men were freely weeping. As were the women. We were strong, and brave, and happy.

After lunch we finished our trek, crossed the Sweetwater river and came home. The youth square danced, the leaders joined in and cheered on. We met with our own Bishops for a fireside, I missed my kids. The Bishop taught an amazing devotional, we sang 'Because I Have Been Given Much' and cried again.

After the fireside the kids ran around telling tales of their day to friends and stayed up way too late. Bishop put all of our stray kids to bed around 1:30- the ma's and pa's were all happily in dream land by then. I'm glad he, at least, was a good parent. I think we all decided we were off duty at 11.

The next day we were to stop on the way home at Rocky Ridge Hollow, but guess what, the bus broke, again. At least they'd emptied the bathroom- so the rolling golden turd was no longer an appropriate name for the broken bus. We did some shuttling, and eventually made it there.

As we filed by the mass grave of the 13 individuals who died there we were serenaded by a violin playing. It was silent and reverent, almost like the temple. A testimony meeting was to be held, the youth filled up all of the time- nary a single adult was heard.

The Stake president called for another bus to be brought up, since the repair didn't actually work on said bus. So most were sent home- some of our kids stayed behind to wait for the last bus, I fretted like any mom would. I gave them all of our bus snacks- they'd get home way after we would, I was sure. Not a good idea, especially since the anti-nausea medication I'd taken wore off around Evanston. Just in time to get obscenely nauseated through the windy Parley's Canyon.

I have a testimony that sometimes prayers get answered exactly how you ask them to be. For I prayed mightily, "please don't let me puke on the bus", was my plea. I made it 3 steps off of the bus and into the grass, I think I'll be more specific next time. Something more like "please just let me puke in my own toilet" where the bishopric and the whole bus won't see.

The fireside the next day was fun, we got to see all of the pictures taken on trek (I don't have them yet or you'd see some of the better ones). None of our kids wanted to go home, they were still enjoying the trek high, and I can't say that I blame them. It was a remarkable experience that I won't soon forget.

The End- as promised

The trek saga: part 2

And it came to pass that we finally made it to Wyoming, to which I am positive I am allergic. As we rolled in to Martin's Cove 4 hours late, I thought to myself. "Self", I said "there is a whole lot of sage brush and desert-ish space not so far from home in Utah, why, oh, why did we drive all the way up here just to trek through some sage brush?"

We did not receive handcarts to push, due to the tardiness of ourselves-thank heavens, as we trekked up to Martin's Cove. It was the hottest part of the day, and it came to pass that I was unimpressed- until we got to the part where we were serenaded with 'Come Come Ye Saints' and we heard the plight of said saints and started up the trail to the Cove. It was an epitomic ( I think I just made that word up) experience. I was awed that they were willing to come to Zion right away, instead of waiting for the train (I would've waited I'm sure). The faith that propelled them through the sweltering heat, step after blistered step, into the freezing cold, truly amazes me. And lo I was humbled, and grateful.

Even though we had to set up our tents in the dark-ish, I'm so glad we went to Martin's Cove, it got all of us in the right frame of mind to walk in the pioneer's footsteps the very next day.

Part 3- the end... tomorrow

musings of the sleep deprived

It's amazing what a good night's sleep will do for your soul, wonders I tell you, wonders. And now that I've had two in a row- I'm feeling pretty dang wonderful.

Girl Child was too exhausted to go to the last day of school, she woke up at 5:30 am starving- I think she ate more for breakfast than she's ever eaten before in a whole day, then she promptly plopped on the couch and slept until 10:30. Really she didn't miss much. Either way- it's official- summer's here and we can play and swim and do whatever we want- we don't answer to the man in the summer!

So getting back to the point of this whole rambling story I learned some things while in the throes of a sleep-deprived delirium- in no particular order:

1) Spelling and writing are hard when you've not slept, don't know why. But seriously try convenience sometime, just try it- i before e except after c and then some nonsense about 3 E's and 2 C's and some such nonsense.

2) Everything is funny after the bewitching hour of 2:45 am, it's the best time to watch random movies, like strange brew or the holy grail. I've not seen them during normal business hours- so I don't have normalcy of thought to compare it against.

3) I should not eat a bowl of reese's puffs in the middle of the night, no matter what movies is on or how late I will be up. milk + night time + smarty pants= belly ache.

4) This may be good practice for babies to come (nothing yet-no announcements here ) but it makes me less inclined to want more with reminders like this. And to the solution to second guessing is sniffing gushy babies- any variety will do, just pick one up and sniff the top of their little baby head. Magic, but don't you agree?

today's lesson: no whining

This Sunday is 5th sunday, and I have to teach. Since I forgot to schedule it in to our teaching schedule, and I didn't want to redo it yet again, I decided to come up with my own lesson. I'm sure I'll only fill half of the time and then be sad I didn't just teach from a a manual and redo the dang schedule again, but it seemed like a good idea at the time.

Hopefully Lehi's family will hold their attention for the whole hour. The lesson is about the differences in the amount of effort each put into gaining a testimony and the consequences of their choices. I'll give you the run down.

So Nephi- he's the youngest, he prays and thinks about the visions his father has- and he gets to see them, and gains a testimony.

And Sam- Older than Nephi but not the eldest, prays about it and trusts his father and Nephi. He has faith and gains a testimony.

Laman & Lemuel- the elder brothers- not so much, they do wonder but don't pray and then just bicker and fight, never gain a testimony and they end up dwindling in unbelief.

Even after L&L saw angels, heard the voice of God, were shocked by the power of God they still never gained a testimony, why? They never put any effort into it, and they kept thinking how they'd be better off in Jerusalem, and they complained- a lot. point of story- don't whine, and do some work, and some other such moral. Hopefully the youth will get it- and I will manage somehow not to slaughter it even more than I already have. Maybe I should take food- that's pretty much a free pass right?

amnesia induced procrastination

I wish there was a pager thing for cell phones- I lose mine way too often. Down the couch, on the bathroom counter, the depths of the purse. I try, unsuccessfully mind you, to put it in the same place when I'm done with it- you know so I'll know where to find it next time I want to use it.

Somehow I have developed cell phone amnesia. As soon as I'm done using it I promptly set it down and then forget that I just used it, then the wandering search begins. I think it's an actual medical condition, I don't think there is a cure.

Also there is no food in this house, not a thing to eat- so I must make the obligatory trip to Costco, on a Friday, Gah! I'm so not looking forward to that- not even the samples can mitigate the headache that is Costco on a Friday, or Saturday for that matter. I know- procrastination is the root of all evil or some such old adage. I'm sure I won't learn my lesson from this as I know that in my hermitishly cave like existence I will let us run completely out of food again before I go shopping next. and I'll curse my procrastination then too. I blame it all on the amnesia

7 Wonders of the world

Last night I learned, from the most lovely blind and deaf young lady, what the 7 wonders of the world really are. I've never been so amazed by someone before. It was a truly humbling experience to listen to Bergen tell us how she was grateful that she has 51/2 of the 7 wonders of the world.

The pyramids and the great wall didn't make her list of the wonders of the world. Sight, smell, hearing, touch, taste, love, laughter- those are her 7 wonders. I take most of them for granted, everyday- and they are her wonders, things took on a new perspective and importance. It's amazing that a girl of 18 has so much to teach, without much experience in the world she taught us a new way to see the world. And for that I'm grateful.

I guess going to all the gazillion youth activities was bound to pay off eventually.