All the Rest

There are vacations, and then there's all the rest.

I've spent the last several days remembering my life as a mom. There was no resting. I couldn't imagine afterward. Those were the days when I woke up feeling like my bed was a launching pad. As soon as my feet hit the floor I'd be on a treadmill that picked up speed throughout the day until I finally flew off backwards at midnight, and staggered back to bed for a couple of hours.

I sometimes felt like a punching bag. It seemed there were always little feet in my stomach. Before my babies were born they kicked, then while they nursed, while we read stories, and even while I slept. My kids picked my most vulnerable moments of sheer unconsciousness at 3 a.m. to report a nightmare and climb into our bed. The next thing I'd know they were sleeping sidewards with their feet digging into my side and their head in Dee's back. Was this a sign of respect?

In those days I always had a headache. About 3 in the afternoon I'd realize it was because I hadn't gone to the bathroom all day. Mothers don't have time for such trivial things. Besides, whenever I sat down for a minute alone on the john, some kid or another would open the door with a few neighborhood friends to tattle on a younger brother. Why invite that? It's less trouble to just "hold it." I was keeping track of so many other people's potty schedules, I had to eliminate my own. I don't think anyone cared much about my sacrifice.

I was always tired. I hadn't slept for years! When I was in bed I had so much rattling around in my brain, I'd have to get up and write it all down. Since I was up, I usually checked on something or someone, remembered to write an excuse note to the teacher, took the milk bottles out, wiped off the sticky counter and put some shoes away. Then I'd sit down on the couch and think. It was so quiet at midnight, I almost hated to waste it by sleeping. If anyone asked I could boast, "I never sleep on the job." Nobody asked.

Mostly I felt unappreciated. "Yuck...does this have onions?" was the usual compliment at dinner. New clothes were greeted with "But Mom, the tags itch...I don't like it." An outing to the park always ended in tears, and the darling brothers and sisters I'd thoughtfully provided for everyone were annoying and smelly. I sometimes wondered what the point of it all was. I never got a promotion or a raise. Our next door neighbor told me I looked like a mother quail with all her little chicks following her, in order, down the street. Was this the fulfillment of all my dreams?? My dedication to this career went unnoticed. Dee was always supportive and encouraging, but I didn't feel valued by society.

Let me tell all you moms out there that I appreciate you. Every time you say, "How many times do I have to tell you..." you are teaching your kids responsibility. When you say, "Don't hit, bite, kick..." a hundred times a day, you're promoting peace. Everyday when you're still there, you're teaching your children trust and dependability and love. You may not realize what you're doing, but you are changing the world, one kid at a time, one day at a time.

One of my favorite scriptures is

"Be not weary in well-doing, for ye are laying the foundation of a great work,
and out of small things proceedeth that which is great."

Is there a greater work than providing a happy, safe home for kids? They need the strength you give them to survive and grow, and then they will contribute.

However, I admit that I love being free of motherhood responsibilities. I'm going on vacation! I'll be resting from my very cushy life, and appreciating middle age a lot! You guys, hang in there. "The greatest work you will ever do will be within the walls of your own home." You can rest afterward.

Little Miracles

The only thing kids wear out faster than shoes are grandparents!

It's a miracle we all survived. I was in charge of Sam and Luke this afternoon. In one hour we had dinner, spilled the milk, jumped on the tramp, dug in the dirt, unwound the hose, rewound the hose, cried, had a snack, spilled the yogurt, had a bath, dumped water all over the bathroom floor, cleaned it up, lost 2 blankies, stuck a finger in the socket, cried, raced up and down 2 flights of stairs searching for blankies, watched Wonder Pets and made beds on the window sill.

I am in awe of mothers! I can't believe I ever did this on a full-time basis!

My guest bloggers today:

My name is Jake. I am 8. I like lions. I have a lion named Simba. My best
friend is Garrett. I collect rocks and Yu-Gi-Oh cards. My secret identity
is Karate.

My name is Emmie. I am 6 years old and I am happy. I went to the Snowball dance
at school with my dad. He gave me a corsage. My best friend is Catherine.

Sam and Luke are free. They like twains. They are miracle babies! Actually all the kids in this family are miracles. Their parents were told they'd never have kids! Be careful what you pray for.

All Aboard!

I got on the wrong train.

Today I flew into EWR, which has a train station right in the airport. My train was leaving at 6:04 p.m so I waited on the platform until a train pulled in at 6:03. A sign lit up with my destination front and center, and several other passengers waiting for the same train hopped on board with me.

It was very crowded and I shoved my suitcase through the doors and stood jammed in the aisle with a lot of tired people on their way home. About 20 minutes later the conductor came through punching tickets and informed me I was going the wrong way! Apparently the train just ahead of mine was running late, and so was my train, so the train I was on was the one that should have departed at 5:54 p.m. "Don't worry. This happens to lots of people everyday on this train." (Maybe there's a problem here???) When I asked about the sign at the station he said, "The signs don't mean anything. They're usually wrong." Well, now what? "You'll have to get off in two stops, cross the tracks, get on the train to Rayburn, cross the tracks and get on your train."

The conductor gave me a nod when we reached the right stop and I got off. There were 8 other people who got off, too, having made the same mistake. We were suddenly fellow wanderers, standing on a platform with no station, no train personnel, and no direction. It was fun to see how quickly we bonded.

All of us had people that needed to be notified. Immediately we were sharing cell phones and stories of the flights we'd just arrived on, where we were coming from and where we were expected. One young man was just coming from Paris to interview at a university. He spoke very little English. There were 2 sisters from Singapore, one of whom spoke French and she became the translator. Another woman was originally from England, but had just flown here from Perth after visiting family. A wedding photographer was returning home after attending a big society wedding in Chicago, which we heard all about.

We waited about 45 minutes and finally our first train came in. When we got off at Rayburn 30 minutes later we found the station completely locked up. It was dark and we all wheeled our bags down the stairs, across the street, and back up to the track. There were some scary looking people hovering around and we all commented that we felt safer because we were together.

While we waited I talked to a man who had just flown in from Toronto. He teaches Greek and Latin at a boys prep school. He had spoken recently at a conference on the Classics in Montreal. It all seemed pretty out of my league. He mentioned that he was originally from the west, had done undergraduate work in California and Montana, and had lived in several states. As we continued talking he referred to Judge Memorial High School. I commented that we have a high school with the same name. It turned out that was his high school! He grew up on Panorama Way, the street next to mine!! He was much younger than I am, but we knew some of the same families in the area. What a small world.

Suddenly a young girl (about 18) discovered she had left her purse on one of the trains. She had been extremely upset by the whole experience anyway, but this was the crowning blow. She was close to tears. One of the Singapore women quickly put her arm around her, and the other found the number of the police on a poster. She called and reported the loss, and told the girl how to follow up.

The Perth lady needed to find a restroom and the photographer said she'd go along so she wouldn't be alone. The Panorama guy volunteered to walk with them and stand outside because he was concerned about the scary men in the hoodies.

Finally our train arrived and we rode to our different stops. As each person got off, there were goodbyes, and handshakes. One woman even ended up offering another woman a ride to her final destination, because her connecting train had already left. We didn't exchange names, but I think we'll remember each other. We'll be part of each other's stories.

When we're on the wrong track there are always people who can help us find our way. When we've lost something precious there are people who can comfort us. There are people standing guard, watching out for us, who understand us; sometimes we don't even know their names. We are fellow wanderers, and there's an instinct we have to help each other. I think when it comes down to it, most of us are coming from the same place.

Guest Bloggers

I have some special guest bloggers today.

Katy says:

Hi World! I'm Katy and I love to read. I'm reading Amelia's School
Survival Guide. It tells you how to tame a tough teacher. Now to my sister Lars....

Lauren says:

I want to tell the world that it's a very beautiful moment to be on a
blog! I'm writing a book right now called Lars and the Peano Phantom. I need to go help Katy clean up!

Will wanted to see Opa do flips on the trampoline! Too bad it was raining. Thanks for letting us sleep in your bed with the cool truck sheets!

Jake was looking all around for me and kept asking Opa, "Where's that other guy?"

This is why I love being a traveling Oma! Is there anybody more fun than grandkids?

Hiatus

I'm running around with my head cut off! I'll be back when I find it.

Happy Birthday, Tommy!

Tommy was born when I was only 18 months old. I can't ever remember my life without him.


We were cute little guys, and our life was happy. We had great adventures in our backyard, playing spaceship with the picnic table turned over on it's side ready to carry us off to the great unknown. We sneaked into each other's bedrooms when we were supposed to be asleep and planned how to reappear in the living room and snitch drinks of coke, or maybe stay up for Maverick.

Tom was the heir, the firstborn son, the only boy to carry on the family name and we all knew he was special. Luckily he was very likable, too.

We lived downstairs together and we both loved to read. He read all my Nancy Drews and I read all his Hardy Boys. He left Louis L'Amours in the bathroom, so I read all of those, too. We used to stagger into each other's rooms, and groan as if we'd been shot, then stage a death scene worthy of any Lone Ranger episode. We watched the test pattern anxiously every Saturday morning waiting for Howdy Dowdy, Circus Boy, and Jungle Jim.

Our mom and dad allowed us to tend the other kids while they went out on Friday nights. We listened to the radio and called in requests. Tell Laura I Love Her was one of our favorites. Another of our activities was prank calling. Those were the good old days before caller ID. Just before Christmas one year we decided to open all the presents under the tree while our parents were out. It was a great disappointment because they turned out to be wedding presents, and we lost interest and forgot to re wrap them. Aren't kids fun?? These are a couple of other Christmas memories.

Santa delivered our Basset Hound puppy. We named her Flower.

This was our snow fort. It was an unbelievable achievement of snow, strength and engineering, and as tall as our dad!

Tom was taught to never hit a girl. We could torment him in many ways and we were safe, until Polly broke her arm. She was beating on Tom with all her strength, and the weight of her cast, and he was helpless against her. Suddenly our dad appeared and recognized that we were not showing much respect to our brother. He gave Tom permission to fight back, and Tom was suddenly someone to be reckoned with. He was never mean, but when pushed too far, we knew we'd have to bribe him with back rubs or doing his chores to keep our faces in tact.

Grampa made us stand back to back regularly so that everyone would know when The Big T passed us all up. It's funny that we knew he'd be tall, since we're a family of short people! But he lived up to and even passed every one's expectations!

Tom was a man among women for his early years. The experience catapulted him into a position to be a man among men. Happy Birthday to the best brother I've ever had!

Life Saver, Anyone?

Want to be a Life Saver? We can be! I know people, and so do you, who are drowning in discouragement. We all know folks who wonder if they can handle their problems for one more day, problems that come in even more than five flavors. Overwhelming responsibilities can make us feel we're just treading water, and need a hand to pull us back on board. Sometimes we need a Life Saver, and sometimes we can be one.

I remember a time I felt like I was "going under." Many years ago I had a severe bout of depression. I laid on my couch listening to my kids argue, observing the chaos I had no energy to clean up. I had been crying for weeks it seemed, and with all the understanding Dee could muster, he felt very helpless. I put on a good face when I was out, but at home I fell apart.

One particular afternoon I was inspired (I know it was an answer to prayer) to call a woman in my neighborhood who I didn't know well. I dialed her number and when she answered, I burst out crying, and told her how helpless and hopeless I was feeling. She was so nurturing and calm, as she assured me we'd get through this, and it was all right. She said she knew what I was going through. She'd felt this way herself. When I finally settled down, she said, "Now, dear, first, who is this?" She had been a life saver without even knowing who I was! She steered me towards a doctor who treated me, and helped me through my "life attack."

At Claremont Graduate University, students can get a PhD in "Quality of Life Concerns," which is defined as What Makes People Happy? I've been thinking about this. What are some things that make me happy? I'll leave out anything dependant on another person ("When my husband brings me flowers"...."When my kids get good grades"...."When I get a raise.") And since this is a PhD study, I'll skip the shallower, short term sources of happiness (chocolate, shopping, pedicures) and dig deeper.

I'm going to list 5 things that have worked for me, that I think would work for anyone. Although the ad says Live Savers are only worth a nickel, I think the right color or flavor could be priceless to someone, so I invite you to ponder your own ideas. Leave them as comments, or blog about it yourself sometime.

Oma's Life Saving Techniques:

1. I try to have a meditation time every morning. It's my Search, Ponder and Pray time. I ponder about what's going on with myself and those I love, then I pray out loud (so I don't fall asleep, or lose my train of thought.) I count my blessings, and then I ask for very specific things ("help me think of the right way to talk to so-and-so," "bless my shoulder that it won't ache, so I can edit the manuscript.") Then I search the scriptures for some guidance. Right now I'm reading the New Testament. I just read a page or two, until I find a nugget of wisdom that feels right to me. This process can take 15 min. or 30 min. I've even done it in the car (then I try to repeat a scripture or story I know by heart, or sing a hymn.) I know it opens me up to spiritual enlightenment. I am reminded that I'm not alone, and that I'm loved. My faith is stronger, I feel hopeful and I have a desire to do something worthwhile that day. Although it sounds simple, it is a profound part of my search for happiness.

2. My spirits are lifted by music, especially in the car. I have compiled CDs for various moods with favorite songs. Just listening to Peter, Paul and Mary, the Beachboys, or John Denver can improve my mood and help me see things with a better perspective. The songs I love have a great philosophy of "We Will Overcome" and that gives me hope. I feel stronger, and bound with all humanity.

3. I'm a great believer in Mission Statements. I write one a few times each year. I don't set goals like "lose 5 lbs by June 1st" because that doesn't work for me. Instead I write characteristics I want to develop. I used to write things like "I want to be calm and organized when the kids come home from school." Now I write, "I want to use my talents to strengthen my family." Looking over my mission statements from time to time helps me see progress, and that makes me feel pride in myself, and that I have something to offer others. I want to be useful.

4. Be interested in lots of things. Days when I'm wrapped up in myself are miserable for me. If I show interest in loved ones, listen to them, and try to be encouraging and supportive I find I'm happier. If I read some history, or fiction, that gets me thinking; or read the newspaper, and watch the news, I see lots of things outside of myself. I think if I'm interested, I'll become interesting, at least to myself, and that keeps me from being bored.

5. Laugh. Talk to, or watch people on TV who make you laugh, especially at yourself or at the absurdity of life. Being happy takes a sense of humor. Look for the funny side. It's a talent worth developing. If you laugh easily, sharing that with others is one of the great gifts. It's the red life saver. Everybody likes it best.

These are my 5 flavors of Life Savers. Now will you share yours? I'm not aiming for a PhD, but I'd like to get some sort of degree in happiness!

Home is Where Your Heart Is

We've been homeless for five years. Not homeless really...just house-less, and we love it! When our kids all moved out we were ready for a smaller place, a nest as Dee calls it. We moved into our apartment March 21, 2002. But first we had to distribute our stuff.

I walked through our house and listed everything we had...furniture, clocks, art, collectibles...and sent the list to all 7 of our kids. They each ranked the items and put stars by things they really wanted. It was interesting, because some of our most treasured pieces weren't sought after, while others held unique memories for several kids. Some of them needed beds and furniture, others wanted linens or dishes, somebody spoke for the snow blower, another asked for the barbecue, and one family requested the toboggans. When all the lists were returned, I divided things up on paper and let everybody know what they'd be getting. I put stickers on the things we kept so when we make our "final move" they will go to their proper homes.

We had a huge collection of books, so one Sunday night we arranged a conference call with all the kids in different states, connected to the kids gathered in our living room. We held an auction over the phone. Each couple had 500 points and they bid against each other for the books or collections they wanted. It was really fun, and interesting to see what everybody chose.

Over a couple of days we packed and labeled boxes, decided what would fit into our new place (which was about 1/4 the size of our house) and then planned our cross-country deliveries. The local kids all helped by hauling their acquisitions away. Then they moved the keepers to our apartment, and took the rest to DI. We rented a Penske moving van and packed it according to our route, then took off for Ohio, Boston and PA, distributing the goods along the way.


It was a great adventure and we loved the whole downsizing process.

We congratulate ourselves every time it snows, blows or grows. No grass to cut, no leaves to rake, no walks to shovel, no pipes to thaw, no spouts to clean, no sprinklers to fix. We're living a "been there, done that" kind of life.

Our family was blessed to have homes with space for 7 kids to grow and learn. We had yards with hills for climbing and sleigh riding, driveways for bikes and basketball hoops, and lots of rooms to learn how to clean. It's just the 2 of us now, empty-nesters, but we do love our nest!

Opa Day

The simplest toy, one which even the youngest child can operate, is called an Opa.


The simplest toy runs out of batteries!

Peter

We always knew he would go places. Pete was an entrepreneur at age 5, selling used fireworks he collected off the street to his buddy for "$3" (he actually received 3 twenties, stolen from the friend's brother.) He was inventing from the age of 10. His favorite Christmas present was a box of 1,000 tiny, unidentifiable pieces that he assembled into a remote controlled car.

One day he and his friend Garrett were downstairs creating something. They surfaced long enough to eat all the cereal in one box, and then headed down to their project. Later they were working on it in the driveway. This was typical Pete. I'd ask what he was doing as he was racing down the stairs or outside to the garage for some tool. He'd always answer but moved and talked so fast, I couldn't really follow his reply. Dee's home office was upstairs with a huge wall of windows overlooking the street. The kids usually didn't disturb him during the day while he was writing. I was cleaning in the bedroom and suddenly I heard whoops and hollers, and Pete and Garrett came pounding up the stairs. I followed them as they ran to the windows in the office. They breathlessly explained that the airplane they'd made from the cereal box, remote control car parts, and fireworks had taken off and was now on fire on the neighbors roof. We looked out and sure enough, it had crash landed in flames! Luckily the breeze that lifted it off the ground blew it out. This is also typical Pete. He does everything by trial and error, his results are usually huge in one way or another, and it always turns out well.

In high school Pete came home one day with a great deal. For only $350 he could buy an old VW that he could restore. It didn't run, but he knew he could fix it. He already had a landscaping business and had the money, so if we gave permission, he wanted to buy it. A few days later the exterior of this car arrived in our driveway. Apparently the engine was extra. He'd be purchasing that with his next check.

Soon we had lots of VW parts laying in our entry hall. I complained about this but Pete assured me it was only for a day or two. He had them all in a specific order so he would know how to put them back together, and nobody could touch them. The project stretched into weeks. We were vacuuming around the pieces, and guests were stepping over them to get into the house. Our guests included several of Pete's friends who huddled over the car and watched while Pete worked. They were all in and out of the bathroom using some kind of smelly orange soap to clean the pieces and their hands. I had totally lost control of the situation. Finally I issued the ultimatum: the car parts had to be gone by Thanksgiving (a few days away.) I was not going to have company climbing over this mess!!!

I came home from the grocery store Wednesday evening ready to load everything into a giant garbage bag and say good-bye to the VW project and all the 16 year old mechanic wannabes that were living in my house. I drove in just in time to see the boys lifting the car up so that Pete could insert the engine. After a few tantalizing tries, the car started and Pete drove it off around the block. I'll never forget those boys all leaping in the air, hugging each other as this little car clanked it's way up the hill. It was later painted to look like Herbie, and even later Pete sawed it in half, hoping to turn it into a truck.

By then Pete had purchased a new fixer-upper, a 1970's VW bus. He worked on that for months. The interior was torn out and replaced, cleaned and painted. He haunted the car graveyards for parts: a steering wheel here, a gear shift knob there. He got it running and was extremely proud to be part of the VW club. He'd always report that other VW owners would honk and wave, giving a thumbs up to his restoration. One night he was on his way to a movie and all the other drivers on the road were giving the routine honk and wave, but even more enthusiastically than usual. Pete was the man! He waved back, grinning ear to ear over his masterpiece when someone pulled up beside him and yelled, "You're on fire!" Pete quickly pulled over at a TGI Fridays, ran in and got their fire extinguisher, and put his tail out.

Pete had become a computer whiz. He worked in people's yards all day and spent the proceeds online at night. Packages were arriving at our house by FedEx almost every day with new equipment. He had purchased a video camera, and was now making movies on the computer. This was cutting edge technology at the time, and Pete was following it all and applying it. He started making videos for his classes, and others utilized his talents. There was a steady stream of high school kids coming in and out of our house. Pete raced home from school, and set himself up downstairs at the computer. The doorbell rang constantly all afternoon and evening as Pete prepared book reports, presentations and movies for his classmates.

We were not very patient with this. It seemed to us that all these people (including some teachers, and adults from the neighborhood) were taking extreme advantage of Pete. We called for a stop. Our home was not a business, Pete was a student and shouldn't be giving away his time and skills when he had his own homework to attend to. Besides, by then he was doing work for Dee, too, and that was more important than a bunch of book reports! He pleaded his case...he had promised...he just had to finish two more...he needed to work on the graduation video...In the meantime he was buying the newest equipment, selling his older equipment online, and actually setting up a business. He just wasn't getting paid for anything, and he was supposed to be a high school student.

One of Dee's projects that year was to create an archive for a huge business. He told Pete how he was organizing it all, and that the company was then donating the collection to a big university in another state. Pete suggested it could be archived digitally. Dee was very interested and Pete assured him they could do it. Dee took the suggestion to the business and they went for it, to the tune of $35,000. Pete purchased the necessary equipment and they had a year to complete it. This was huge to Dee, of course, but Pete was just inserting it into his own schedule of work. Dee continually asked Pete how it was coming, but Pete usually was finishing some project for his German class, and would be getting to it soon. When Dee had done all that he could do, and with the completion date 3 months away, he sat Pete down for a business chat and it came out...things were at a standstill. Everything was scanned and ready to go, but in Pete's research he couldn't find a program that would do what they needed it to, and Pete was going to have to create it. "Don't worry, Dad."

Dee had been paid on a monthly basis, and had to deliver. I won't go into the periodic panic attacks happening in our bedroom at night, or the nausea the regular meetings with the company produced. Pete delivered...as always! With only a few days to go, he was working 24/7, and the morning they were scheduled to leave, he came upstairs with the digital archive, one of the first of it's kind. The next day, in front of TV cameras and city dignitaries, this 18 year old demonstrated his product and taught the librarians at the university how to use it.

Dee had been brought into the technological age and was now preparing a manuscript on a computer. One morning I heard a blood curdling scream from his office and I ran in to find that he'd lost his manuscript. It was now floating somewhere out in cyberspace and he had no idea how to find it. He told me to call the high school and tell them to send Pete home because his dad was having a heart attack. A few minutes later Pete screeched in, and was soon on the case. The phone rang an hour or so later, and it was the computer teacher at the school. I was ready to lie for Pete, knowing Dee could not spare him, but the teacher quickly said he didn't need Pete to come to class, he just needed his help for a minute over the phone. The school's computers were down, and Pete walked the teacher through the repair process, and then went on to find Dee's manuscript.

I could fill a book with stories about Pete. He was our 6th child, and teased by his older brothers. When he was little, Dee assured him he would probably end up taller and bigger than they were and they'd soon look up to him. As it happened, Pete is the shortest of the boys, but everyone in our family looks up to him.

Pete started his own business when he was 21. He dropped out of college 3 times because his company was so successful he couldn't keep up with the demands. He was selling projects using technology his computer professors didn't even know about. He realized his skills were being developed in the process. We could finally see that the work he was giving away in high school was his education. He had learned how to work, how to learn, and how to apply his skills with confidence. He found an office downtown, and moved into his own apartment when he was 22. He was on his way.

After traveling to Europe several times on his own to ski, make a documentary and just explore, Pete finally decided he wanted a partner. This past year he found the most perfect girl.

She completes him! They were married in September after a very quick engagement, and took a 3 week trip to England and Europe, backpacking all the way. Together, they are really going places.

Sleep Deprived

Blogging has cut into my shopping time. Amazon.com is really taking a hit!

That's what I did in my pre-blog life. I'd watch Dave Letterman until the Top 10, then I'd take my ambien (I'm an insomniac) and sit down at the computer while I waited for it to kick in. I'd visit Nordstrom, Sephora, Zappo's, Red Envelope, and then head over to Amazon, where I'd start reading book reviews. That would lead me to the reader's comments, and eventually I'd have a little wish list compiled and I'd start whittling it down, before I'd decide to check out the children's books. I have spent hours and hours reading about children's books, searching for titles with my grandkids names in them, and then researching the authors and the artists. Around 1:am I'd realize my fingers weren't flying over the keyboard any more and maybe it was time to try going to sleep. Often the next morning I'd get an unexpected email telling me that my order was on it's way. It's scary to find out you shop in your sleep!

Now I write in my sleep. I'm sure you can sometimes tell. When I studied German, the sign that I was finally getting it was when I dreamed in German. I remember when I learned to type, I typed my thoughts with my toes as I was falling asleep. (I've heard other people say this, too.) Lately I click on things when I dream! Is this normal?

The other night I dreamed we still lived in our house and a whole bunch of people we didn't know were gathered in our circle. They had sleeping bags and blankets, and we invited them inside. Our house (in the dream) was huge and we had lots of bedrooms. Everyone spread out and I commented to Dee that it was great that we could sleep 30 people. When I went to our room there were some girls unpacking there, so I started searching the house for someplace I could sleep. I realized I was walking through these crowds of people naked! I tried to cover up, but nobody was really paying attention, so I just kept going. When I woke up I realized this dream had a meaning. I'm walking through a group of strangers totally exposed when I blog. I must be an exhibitionist deep down. (Too bad I'm not 30 years younger and in better shape.)

Maybe blogging is just shopping for friends. But if dreams come true, I better head over to Nordstrom...I don't have a thing to wear! (It's 1:30 and the ambien is starting to work.)

Signs of Spring

Have you ever received a Heart Attack? Someone spreads little paper hearts all over your bed and your bedroom floor, almost like confetti; there are little hearts everywhere. They could be spilling out of your mailbox or scattered inside your car. It's not subtle. The little heart shaped symbols tell you that someone gave their love in a big, not-to-be missed way, and you are the recipient. It's a sign! You are loved.

I got a similar sign today. As I was driving I saw that someone was spreading spring around. I noticed the willow trees lining the stream were just barely tinged with green. Tree after tree was putting on it's spring outfit. Suddenly my senses were being attacked by signs of spring. Our baby pigeon's nest on the deck, the tulip greens peeking through the dirt, the forsythia turning yellow against fences everywhere. New life is surrounding me. I want one, too!

I want to clean up and clean out, start fresh and reinvigorated. I'm sick of dark and cold: I want bright and bold! I'm like a sunflower wanting warmth and light and a new yellow dress. I see bright green asparagus and big red strawberries, and brilliant pink rhubarb, filled with goodness from the earth and sun. Everything is reborn. I want to be reborn, too: to be more enthusiastic, more productive, more creative. It's spring!!

Spring is the giant symbol of the Resurrection. Everyone is in the dark, gray, dead of winter, and the signs of life after death give us hope!! There's a story in the scriptures where a man says he won't believe in God until he's shown a sign. The prophet replies,

"Thou hast had signs enough: All things denote there is a God; yea, even the earth, and all things that are upon the face of it, yea, and its motions, yea, and also all the planets which move in their regular form do witness that there is a Supreme Creator."

As I'm looking around I see signs scattered throughout the earth testifying that God lives. He loves me and He has great plans for a wonderful future. He gives me a hint of it every spring. Like the sunflower, I just have to put on my new yellow dress and follow the SON, the way she follows the sun. I know I'll end up with enough light to grow and see my potential.


I love spring. It's fleeting here in the mountains. We have a lot of winter, spring flirts with us a little, and a few days after our last May snowstorm it's already summer. Maybe because she plays hard to get, I like spring best. It's a sign that Somebody loves me. That puts a spring in my step!

New Neighbors

A new family just moved in. We weren't especially friendly the first few weeks because they were kind of "poopy," and made lots of noise. We didn't even try to meet them. Apparently they were honeymooning, since we heard cooing, and we could tell they ruffled each other's feathers a bit. Finally Dee went to complain about the racket, and discovered they had twin babies! He came back as proud as a new grampa, and urged me outside to get acquainted. There, in the corner of our deck was a newly built nest, made of sticks and feathers, with two little pigeon nestlings.



The parents are very attentive. We can't tell which of the two is the mother, because they both feed the babies. One of them is usually sitting on the nest, and the other sits on the railing of the deck. We live on the 7th floor of our building, and when we go out to look at them, the big birds fly away and watch us from the deck across from us. We have been careful to make them welcome, but not disturb them in any way, and they don't seem afraid. Just watchful. I looked up pigeons and from the pictures they seem to be about 7 days old. They are fledglings for about 30 days before they fly off, according to the book. We are excited to watch their growth and progress.

The deck has doors to our bedroom and our office, so there's always a bit of activity going on. When Dee spotted the babies he immediately motioned for me to be quiet. He has started tiptoeing around and worries that sirens, cars, or the phone will scare them. He checks on them several times morning and night, and has now started providing them with birdseed. I often forget to turn off lights when I leave a room, which has always been a little careless according to Dee. Last night he wanted to leave the lamp on in the office "so they'll have a little night-light." He's a sucker for a cute chick.

We're resting today.

Washing, ironing, changing the bed,
Catching up with newspapers,
Clearing my head.
I feel so tired, my mind's in a fog.
I'm resting today, and so is my blog!

Love Story Chapter 1: February, 1969.

Salzburg, Austria

February 1, 1969, my life started over. I met Dee . . . and Europe. What a brilliant combination!

Salzburg, Austria was the destination for a semester abroad, but our first stop was Paris.

Our hotel, a former train station on the Left Bank, (which has since been transformed into the Musee d'Orsay) had in a huge lobby where we were getting room assignments and sorting through luggage. A few of the girls decided we wanted to go to Folies-Bergere for a midnight show. It was pretty daring for naive 19-year-olds, so we decided to ask some guys from our group to go with us as chaperones. I looked over and recognized Dee and another boy getting off the elevator, so even though we'd never met, I brazenly went over and invited them to come.

Although they were older men (in their 20's) they seemed shocked at my request. Dee's first words to me were, "I don't know. I'll have to ask my companion." His companion??? Whoa. He seemed a touch on the dorky side to me. I found out later they just didn't want to spend any money, and they were intimidated by a large pack of giggly girls going to a striptease joint.

Neither of us had an inkling of what lay ahead for us. Our little worlds had collided and the universe changed course.

Think how many times this has happened over thousands of years, and yet it has only happened to me once. I still wonder how and why I was so lucky! One boy + one girl = 7 kids + 7 kids in law + almost 20 grandkids . . . 36 lives changed forever because I walked across that hotel room. Just ten days later I was Dee's constant companion.