Halloween

My celebration of Halloween this year was very different than I have ever experienced. I got up very early and left by 6 am in order to drive to Salt Lake to sing with my choir. On my way, I saw a beautiful sunrise over Utah Lake.
The occasion was the groundbreaking ceremony for the new wing on the Huntsman Cancer Institute Hospital. Our choir was hired to sing at this ceremony. We sang three songs, From Sea to Shining Sea, Impossible Dream and When You Walk Through a Storm.
Two of the guests were some darling children dressed like Dorothy and a Kitty. I couldn't resist asking them if I could take their picture. They were so darling.

It was pretty much the "Who's Who" of Utah in that tent. The Governor, John Huntsman Jr and his wife., his parents, John Huntsman Sr. and his wife, the Prophet, Thomas S. Monson, his two counselors, and their wives, most of the Counsel of the Twelve and their wives, all the television stations and the reporters, many of those very wealthy who have donated money, and many cancer survivors. One man, a doctor from LA, flew out to present them with a check for $5 million. Several people were asked to participate in the ground breaking with shovels, then the balloons came down onto the crowd. We were invited to a reception on the 6th floor of the Institute. The food was delicious. On my way up, I recognized and shook hands with Yoshiko Kikuchi, one of the General Authorities of the Church. He is a very nice, humble man.

Then I had a hair appointment with my sweet daughter afterward. She cut my hair and styled it. We had a wonderful visit, and that sweetheart refused to charge me. We then went upstairs to Smith's and purchased 12 balloons, stepped outside into the parking lot and let them go.

Here a word of explanation is in order. When my dad died, we didn't have a funeral. He was cremated and we spread his ashes onto the farm where we all grew up. At the memorial, we were each handed a helium balloon. There were 78 balloons, one for each year he lived. At the count of 3 we all let those balloons go, and it was such a breath-taking thing to watch all those beautiful colors fill the sky. My eyes still water when I think of that scene. It was such a memorable event for my children, that every year since we have sent more balloons heavenward, one for each year he has been gone. The family has grown up and moved away, but most of them remember and remind each other via text messaging and do the same where they now reside. We have no grave to place flowers, so we do this. I also have a memorial garden made of mums. They are ready to buy right around his birthday, which is right near Memorial Day, so I purchase them and plant them. By the fall, they bloom again right near his death day

He died on the 30th of October, but yesterday I was so busy cleaning my carpet, I didn't remember to get the balloons until it was too late. My daughter had reminded everyone in the family, then she forgot too, so we purchased them today and let them go.

Then we hugged goodbye and headed to our respective homes. I hurried, because the youngest Trick or Treaters usually come before dark. I didn't get home until 6. I know I missed several and feel bad about that.

I was rather late getting into the spirit of Halloween. I didn't buy pumpkins to carve, I wasn't even going to decorate, but then I saw a darling idea online and decided to try. As a result, we had a cute little group of yard ghosts playing Ring Around the Rosie.

I set up my little Patti Playpal dolls inside to "help" hand out Treats. They are each named after three infants who died: my older sister and two nieces; Connie, Cristy and Heidi. The fourth doll belongs to my daughter, and she named her after our shared middle name, Renee. Renee is here "visiting" her cousins and having her arm fixed.
We didn't have as many little goblins knocking on our door as we usually do this year. We watched Friends, instead of our usual Halloween videos. (Beetlejuice, Hocus Pocus or Adams Family)
It was a very different Halloween.

What kind of clothes dryer do you have?

All summer I have been drying my laundry on the clothesline out back. My dryer doesn't vent to the outside, therefore I cannot use it during the summer. It gets too hot.

My dryer vents to a little box I purchased from those cheap catalogs. The box has water in it that I need to replenish. So if I needed something to look like it didn't need ironing, I would set the dryer on air fluff and would get the clothes looking fairly decent, then hang them on hangers and let them air dry.
This morning it was cooler and I didn't think a little heat in the house would hurt matters, so I took all the things that needed to look less wrinkled and put them in the dryer. I set it on a permanent press which is medium warm and went outside to hang the towels and socks.
Suddenly I heard a piercing noise that sounded like my smoke detector. I hurried inside and sure enough it was.

The dryer had turned itself off and smoke was coming from the door of my dryer.
To make the smoke detector turn off I had to turn on the whole-house fan. Now I am scared to use the dryer. I cannot remember when we purchased this dryer, but it has been at least 10 years or more. (can any of you kids of mine remember when we got it?)

So I am in the market for a dryer, and possibly a washer (I have noticed little round rust spots on some of my clothes which suspiciously suggests the washer is the culprit). I was just wondering, if you *love* your dryer, what brand you have?

Any suggestions?

Pollyanna Post Script: At Least I know my smoke detector works. It has been so long since we made "smoke alarm chicken" that I was not sure if it even worked.

have a nice day
~a

Jack

We had a most interesting time at Lake Powell this time. We usually meet a group called the Kokopelli boat group. Many of them have built their own boats. Some are kayaks, some are sail boats, some are row boats. One was built of PVC pipe. It was a pontoon sail boat. All were very fun to see and to ride in. We brought a friend who was interested in the homemade boats and loves Lake Powell, who brought his jet ski, so we had all kinds of people there.
Among the group is a sweet family who is there every year, They have a darling daughter, Ruby and a son Wil.
Ruby was born with club feet and at her tender age of 8 has been through 5 surgeries. But nothing gets her down. She is such a happy little girl, so filled with life and enthusiasm. Ruby's grandfather had died 6 months ago. He was an amazing man, an artist, a sculptor and recently a boat builder. He always attended these annual Kokopelli Messabouts with Ruby's family with his own unique homemade row boat. His boats were perfect. The workmanship was perfect, as only an artist would have it. His death was sudden and very unexpected and left all the Kokopelli group reeling. It was decided to have a memorial service at this Messabout, and we were honored to be numbered among this group. Grandpa Jack *loved* Lake Powell and he loved the full moon, so Saturday (not quite the full moon, but close enough) just after the sun set and the moon had risen, the ceremony began. His daughter, Heather is a potter and had made everyone a cup with which to toast him. When I saw those cups, I cried. I know how much work went into these beautiful cups, and Heather was letting everyone take theirs home.
We all got sparkling apple cider or wine in our cups and went down to the lake. Heather read a poem and said a little speech about her father. Another person had written a poem as well. Someone else in the group had made a small replica of a Viking boat. He had purchased some Minnesota Viking hats for the occasion as well. Her Dad had been very interested in the Viking boats, so this was very fitting. We drank a toast to Jack, then his ashes which were in a small wooden chest were placed in the boat along with notes from all present and some flash powder.














It set on fire, Wil rowed it out to the middle of the cove with a long string, so he was far from it. And it burned on the lake, sending Jack's ashes into the Lake that he loved so dearly.

I have attended many funerals and several memorials. This one was very sweet and memorial. Now I can say I have attended a Viking funeral. I was touched by all the carefully thought out sentiment. Count your blessings, hug your spouse, parents and children and celebrate life.
PS Sailor took this video with his camera. We were both surprised how well it did in the dark.
~a

working from home

I thought this was sort of funny, in a morbid sort of way.

I thought of Mostly Risible when I saw this guy working from home, because she is the only one I know who actually does telecommute.

The computer age is really miraculous, isn't it?

I don't think we should ever allow Death to work from home if we have any control over it.

~a

A bit of a funk

I want to say "thank you" to everyone who has commented on my last post. I think I am in a bit of a depression. This surprises me. Rodger's family and ours have known each other for as long as we have lived here, 22 years, but we never got together and played cards once a month or anything like that. We did see each other every week in Church. I guess I am a bit surprised how hard I am taking Rodger's death.

It seems that everything reminds me of him. When I drink my water, it is Rodger's voice in my head that asked when I came in for an adjustment, "how much water have you been drinking?" I mentally take note of how much water I do drink, just in case I have to go in for an adjustment.

When I exercise, it is Rodger and Mary I see in my head, faithfully walking past my house every morning. When I read my scriptures, it is Rodger's face I see in front of our Sunday School class mentioning that he hoped we enjoyed reading this week's assignment.

When I work on my genealogy, it is Rodger's face I see in the Family History Center. He and his family were a much bigger part of my life than I realized. I am sorry that I took this for granted.

Yesterday after my dental appointment I had no particular place to go. My entire mouth was numb and I didn't much feel like doing anything like shopping or eating, so I sort of drove around. I passed by Mary's house. The drive-way was filled with all the children's cars, still there helping her out. I would have stopped, but I felt like they had enough to handle there. So I drove out to the cemetery and found his grave. All the flowers were knocked over by the recent winds and heavy rains. I tried to upright one of them, but it fell back over. I read his name, cried, then got back into the car and drove home.

When nothing at home inspired me, I realized then that I must be a bit depressed. Usually to cheer myself up, I get into a project. Yesterday all my projects seemed too overwhelming.
I looked on my bio-rhythm chart (palm bio) and realized part of my problem. My emotional line was completely on the floor. Today is at its lowest point. I really don't bank on bio-rhythm charts. It has its place when you wonder why you feel so low and check it. Usually there lies the explanation.

Anyway for a week now I have felt very vulnerable and on the brink of tears. Today, I realized it is more than Rodger's untimely death that is getting me down. It is a combination of many things including his death.

My D2 is moving away in about a month to the next state. Her little son is such a sunshine and always goes into celebration mode when I arrive. He doesn't talk much yet, but he always starts laughing and running around when I come. He wants me to hold him and play with him. I love being loved so much and will miss him and his sweet family so very much!

It is May, Graduation. May used to be my most favorite month. I love the flowers, lilac, crocus,tulips,iris, etc., the freshness of the leaves on the trees, the spring rains. But ever since my children have begun to line up on the HS Graduation "high dive ladder" preparing to dive off into the deep end of the real world, I have become depressed in May. Yesterday was the High School Graduation, and I could swear I feel the sadness in the air that comes from all the other parents who are facing that sadness themselves.

My husband calls me an Empath, like Deanna Troi from Star Trek, the Next Generation. I am not a mystic and don't believe in that so much, but I do feel other's sorrow and become sad because they are sad. It is something I don't control, it just happens and I find myself in the middle of the sadness and realize why after the fact. I have to surround myself with happiness and laughter all the time to protect myself from these feelings though.

I do have some cures. Drinking my water, exercise (Rodger's voice again) and surrounding myself with laughter. I need to get out something that makes me laugh, funny movies, books, etc. Since I am working on someone's wedding dress, I think after I go do my exercise, I will fill up a jug of water, put on a funny movie and sew on this dress.

Thanks for listening and commenting and thanks for the laughter. All you who are humor blog writers cheer me up with your hilarity. Thanks for the support.

Hope your day is filled with happiness and sunshine.

~a

A tribute to Rodger

As I said in the previous post, I found out that my chiropractor, and friend died on Friday May 16,2008.
He was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer earlier this year. Our Bishop says he has known several who have had it, and no one he has known has ever made it past 102 days. Rodger didn't make it to that mark.
He was such a good man. Besides his full-time job as Chiropractor, he was the Family History Director for as long as I can remember. He was very knowledgeable in computers and Family History. He was very kind and good with people and served many hours there. He also served on the High Council in our Stake, as Fire Chief of our local Fire Department. He also ran for and was voted into the City Council at that last election in November. He served for many years on Thursdays in the Temple as well. He also served as our Gospel Doctrine Sunday School teacher.

I never heard a word of complaint. I remember once I had a pinched nerve in my neck. I went to him to see if he could fix it. He worked for weeks, and I cried on his "shoulder" about how bad it was. It was Rodger who finally helped me cure it after 5 months of agony. He mentioned that he wished he could prescribe ultra sound. I had never heard of that being used to heal, usually it was to see how big the baby is, and tell the gender. He said an MD had to prescribe it, and I asked him which doctor in town would go along with his advice. He told me, and I went to that doctor. He was reluctant, but went along with it and after the first session I could feel a definite difference. After 6 treatments in the space of two weeks I was cured. Thanks Rodger. At the time I was serving with his wife in the Relief Society and in the Genealogy Library as well. I was thinking about quitting everything, but because of Rodger I was able to continue everything. Towards the end of his life, when the hospice workers were assessing his pain. They asked him how he would rate his pain, the worst being 10, the least being 1. His reply? "If 10 is what the Savior felt when He was on the cross, then I am a 1." And I complained and cried with a pinched nerve.

He and I had long talks, between the chiropractor visits and the Family History work. We were sort of kindred spirits in that we both love to travel. This man was amazing. He spoke French. He served a mission in France and majored in French. I remember once my husband mentioned to Rodger that he just got done reading the unabridged version of Les Miserables. My husband was so proud of having slogged his way through hundreds of pages of French history. Rodger said he had read it too, in French!

Today in the funeral, the Stake President mentioned his last visit with Rodger. He asked him if he could do anything for him. After a long pause, Rodger said he wanted his family to understand how much he loved them, but how after mourning, he wanted them to get on with life and not stay stuck in the mourning state. Then he mentioned he wanted his Temple Recommend renewed. Lastly, he bore his testimony of his knowledge that Jesus is our Savior, he died for us and because of this we all will be able to be resurrected and live with God again. He wanted his children to hear his testimony and asked the Stake President to speak at his funeral and convey this to them. I have to say, it was a "15-Kleenex-tissue funeral." A record for me.

A fitting tribute to him was the firemen of our local volunteer fire department who came in dress uniform. There were about 15 of them sitting in a row in the back. A large fire truck and a medium fire truck led the way and another SUV fire truck transported the casket to the cemetery. What Kleenex I hadn't used up at the funeral were finished off with this sweet tribute.

The image I will always have of Rodger is of he and Mary walking in the early hours of the morning past my house. Getting fit, talking and enjoying life together.

I always appreciated his kindness. The words I most often heard him say were "I understand." He has left a very large gaping hole in this community which will never be filled again. I am glad for this Canadian's life, and that he chose to spend over 20 years in this community. I am glad for my close association with him and his family.
His life and his sudden death have taught me two things:
1. I want to live a more Christ-like life.
2. I want to be sure I tell all those around me that I love them and cherish my association with them.
May God Bless you Rodger, and your dear sweet family. God Be With You 'Til We Meet Again.

One Of Those Busy Weekends

On Friday, my sister, her husband and I traveled to St. George to watch their grandson sing with the Phoenix Boy's Choir. Their director was once a director for the Vienna Boy's Choir. He was very strict and they were very disciplined and very good. He was trying to be very good so he could qualify for the next tour group. And when I say "be good" I mean follow all the rules.

They really did well and I had a fine time getting to visit all my sister's friends who live in that area and with her grandson. He would be my grand nephew. He is 11 and a very fine young man.


After spending the night, we went back to Salt Lake where we performed in Murray Park Amphitheater for Armed Forces Day. We had a packed "house", which has never happened before, and we had a good concert which ended in fireworks. Two of my girls came with their husbands and family. My husband had gone to a boat builder's mess-about at Starvation Reservoir and got there after the concert, then we went to D2's for ice cream and strawberries and visiting. We left pretty late and got home by 2 and finally in bed by 3:30 which made for a really hard Sunday. Needless to say we took naps after Church, but mine turned into a 4 hour nap. Which is bad later because it is hard to go to sleep after such a long nap.

That Friday morning, I found out after the fact, my chiropractor, Rodger finally died.
I will make that another post, I want to dedicate a whole post to my friend.
~a

Life is so short

I got a call this morning from my friend, LuAnne. She was calling on her cell phone to tell me she was on her way up north to help her sister-in-law who had just called. LuAnne's baby brother, Owen (age 37) had just died this morning of a heart attack! He left behind a young wife and 5 little ones.
It threw me into such a fit of sorrow, there was no consoling me. I cried and sobbed my heart out for quite some time this morning as I called the various church leaders to let them know of this devastating news. My heart aches for my friend. She lost her father to skin cancer which took his life from the first noticeable bump in October in 4 short months. Her mom died 21 years ago, a victim of the down-winder's syndrome, just after we moved into this community.
My sweet friend is single and has taken care of her dad ever since. I think she is a heroic and amazing girl to have put her life on hold for her dad. There was another disturbing thing that happened just after her dad's death. I cannot believe my poor friend has gone through so much in such a short time. This is April.
To help console herself, she said, "I guess Dad needed him for some work he is doing in Heaven."
Life is short. We never know when the Lord will beckon for us. I hope I am ready. So sorry to write of such devastating news on my blog, but I wanted to make a note. This is, after all, sort of a journal for me. . .

please say a prayer for Lu Anne and her family. and give your loved ones a hug.

~a

Exhaustion

Yesterday was my last day at the Power Plant. I signed out on the confined space form, turned in my orange confined space tag and my gate pass. I am done!

This is the last of a 4-year contract, so I don't know if I will work another outage. The big bosses asked me to call them in November and remind them of the sticky gooey mess this is, and how much they HATE it. They didn't coat all the sections of pipe in the four years they worked here, but don't think it will fail. It could, and that will be discovered with tests through out the year.

Basically they have to pull all their help off every other project, hire all sorts of extras, and buy TONS of other safety gear and other stuff in order to staff this job. The Vice President, Operations Manager, Safety Boy, and all their foremen drop every other project and come down for a month in order to do this outage in April. They rent rooms at a motel or haul their travel trailers and rent a space in the trailer park. They told me that there are many other projects they could have, because it is good weather in April, that they have to turn down or delay because of this contract. The contract is now done. Besides they hated working with the engineering firm who headed this. They were hired by our plant to head this whole mess up in the first place, but they really didn't know any more about what we were doing than anyone else. Everyone has lost respect for this engineering firm.

But this job was great for our family. The first year, S3 paid for his mission clothes (about $1000), and put away a sizable CD that matured when he got home, which he used to help him get back into school.

The next two years, it paid the way for Sailor and me to travel to Austria and sing in a choir for Mozart's 250th Birthday, and pick up S3 in Taiwan from his mission. This year, no major trips are planned. I will put the money away into a savings account.

I slept in this morning until 9. Ah, the luxury. But I have found when I sleep in, I have all sorts of weird dreams, too confusing to even recall all the details. This morning I got up with Sailor and packed some goodies into his lunch box, but somehow found myself back in bed 3 hours later, not even remembering heading back. I am NOT a morning person, but somehow I managed to do it for 2 weeks. It doesn't sound like a big deal unless you are doing the 12-hour days.

Mind you I am not whining or complaining, just describing.

I know other people go through MUCH worse, like my sweet D2 who works full-time, 12-hour nights at the Children's hospital. Her job carries their only insurance, so she says she has no choice. Besides the ungodly hours, she sees death and all sorts of sickness and has to leave her sleeping husband and son while she goes to work. She is pregnant and due in May. I cannot imagine enduring what she does. She is a hero in my eyes. D1 gets up every day with her husband at 3 am fixes breakfast and lunch, says a family prayer and sends him off to work. Then she works full time as an assistant manager at a hair salon. She is amazing. D3 works as well. She worked her way through school, and then got a job at a doctor's clinic while her husband worked and finished school. DIL 2 and DIL 1 also worked while finishing school and after they graduated to support their husbands through school. All five girls are amazing to me, and I love and admire them for doing this. Thank you sweet daughters. I met two girls on this job who are single and support their children. They are both Mom & Dad in their families. All these people are amazing to me.

I am a spoiled Brat. I have always had the privilege of staying at home.

But here is what we did during the outage: Basically Sailor arises at 5:30 (how does he do that every day of his life?) turns on the television and the heat and proceeds to make breakfast and pack the lunch we prepared the night before. I dragged out at 6 with his gentle persuasion, that being the heater, television and a jug of Mt. Dew propped up by the pillow beside me. He is so patient. Then I would pack the veggies, dip, cheese sticks, and some sort of treat. Mostly the treat was a snack bag of cashews and M&M's or a granola bar. I would put in my contac lenses, mascara, curl hair (even though it was squashed by a hard hat), blush and some sort of lip gloss. Then the clothes (at first it included long johns, but after a week it got warm enough to eliminate them), socks and the much hated work boots. Drag out to the car and ride with Sailor the 13 miles to the Plant.

Work was varied enough not to get bored, and everyone who visited the two tents said I had many more responsibilities than the other hole-watch did. I guess that is why my Boss loved me. Then finally at 7 pm (Sailor was kind enough to just wait in his office, even though he was usually done by 6) Sailor would come pick me up and we would go home. Mostly we made supper and tomorrow's lunch, eat, shower and go to bed.

Usually we dragged to bed by 10:30, no matter how hard we tried to make it earlier. Last year we each had a task after work. We would chop up a huge salad, make delicious Martha Stewart meat balls or bread. We used this for our dinner and our lunch. This year, a woman approached me just before the outage started and begged me to make her and her daughter each an outfit for a wedding coming up in May.

Back in January when the Project Manager calls, he reserves us for a month, so we never know how long this will last. It usually doesn't last that long, but you never know.
So almost every night this year I sewed for an hour while Sailor did all the kitchen work. On Friday's we got off early, and I would do the wash and sew. We still didn't get to bed until 10:30.

It was a blur of Ground Hog days (referring to the movie). I never knew what day it was, they all blended together. Sunday's never felt like Sundays. Last Sunday, Sailor was off, but that Angel got up with me, helped me pack my lunch, made breakfast, like always, then drove me to work.

I KNOW! I am a spoiled brat. He had his cell phone, so he texted me about Sacrament meeting. He told me who spoke, about the beautiful song the choir sang and the amazing talks. He attended a baptism at the Spanish Branch where 82 people showed up, and they ate a pot luck afterwards. It was the baptism of the Branch Presidency 1st counselor's son. Then he picked me up at the end of the day.

The first year, I had to go through a different gate for contractors called Badge Alley. This was such a hassle. It was a quarter of a mile from the tent, so you had to wait for a van to pick you up and haul all your stuff back and forth. I NEVER left anything in the tent because the Night workers and Hole Watch had no respect. Everything was eaten, used, thrown away and lost in the morning. The B Tent attendant left her tote there the whole two weeks this time and no one touched it. Not possible in my tent. I hauled a duffel bag, a lunch box, my hard hat and safety glasses and a Hart's jug every single day. She even threw away my bouquet of flowers I brought this year.

The second year, Sailor worked it out with the main gate so I could go with him through the front gate. This was better for us both because of my hassle, but also so Sailor wouldn't be late going through his gate. Names are taken at 7:01 and you get called into the HeadOfThePlant's office, or something equally as ridiculous. So to spare me of having to go through Badge Alley, my sweetheart took me to work on his day off.

If you click on the title, you can look at all the pictures on my Picasa Album, if you are interested.

have a wonderful day.
~a
PS Just got a call from B tent Hole Watch. The wind is blowing, the door of the tent has blown off. The dust is horrific, she is wearing a dust mask and is freezing. The two extra girls, Safety Girl and Office Girl are watching Hole A and Hole C. Hole C is outside, doesn't have a tent, so I hope they provided a truck for her to sit in. Nobody gets a break to use the bathroom, because the idiot Safety Boy went home today. He should have stayed as long as they needed him. He is so full of himself. I liked the Safety Guy they had the last two years. He treated us as if we were important to him. Anyway I am glad I am gone, but I feel sorry for the ones who came and faithfully gave me a break every day, now are freezing and eating dust and nobody is giving them bathroom breaks or bringing them hot chocolate.
But they are earning another day's wages. . .This one is well earned, I guess. Actually I should say the company is getting their labor for cheap today.

Missing You

Why is it that we take things and people for granted until they are gone, or almost gone?
The other night we went to D2's home, where she graciously hosted a birthday party for D1. They are really close friends as well as sisters. I relate to this friendship because my younger sister and I were close like that. But because of the distance between us (600 miles) we don't get to see each other as often as we would like.
D1 & D2 see each other each and every Wednesday. It is D1's day off and she comes to D2's house to do laundry, to watch D2's baby and allow tired D2 to sleep in after working all night at the children's hospital, and to visit most of the day after she wakes up. I love that they are so close.

As we left, sweet Grandson was in her arms and he made a little question-type noise. It sounded to me like: "Why is Fun Grandpa leaving already? Can't he stay longer?" He is almost 2 years old, and so darling. He recognized us immediately when we arrived and greeted us with happy smiles, and leaning into us so we would hold him. He spent most of the evening running back and forth between us and allowing each of us to hold and love him. Grandpa has the strength to lift him high and upside down and make his feet walk on the ceiling, and he loved it and giggled and begged for more.

As I heard that little inquiry directed at our backs, I began to cry uncontrollably and continued to cry for almost 10 miles. I don't usually do this now, but I used to every time I left my Grandma. I felt so silly, but couldn't help myself. What was that?

This weekend we helped S2 with some concrete work. His wife and family are in another state visiting her family. I saw tiny evidences of the sweet children, a Care Bear here, a tiny truck there, and I felt so sad they weren't there. I can imagine how empty it is for S2. I am not sure why I get so nostalgic, they haven't died or anything. What's with you, Annie? Buck UP! I remember once when my youngest daughter was only 2 years old and the neighbor came and picked all my kids up and took them to a birthday party. I stood there in the midst of a perfectly clean house and began to cry.

A dear friend and my chiropractor who is just a few years older than I has been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. I have respected this man for his wisdom, his knowledge of Genealogy, and especially his kind mannerisms. He has always been a friend, and always says: "I understand" in response to many of my complaints or frustrations. He is still so gracious, even in this trying time. He expressed how grateful he is for trials, and the fact that they make you stronger. He gave the Easter talk today on the Atonement. I was glad I had restocked my Kleenex in my Church bag. We have been neighbors for many years. I will miss him so terribly when he is gone and I pray mightily for his miraculous recovery. He is serving as the Genealogy director of the Family History Center of our town, the Fire Chief of the volunteer Fire Department and as a County Commissioner. He served for years in the Temple as well. He has always been calm and very kind. I cannot imagine how life can go on without this giant among us. I have always respected him, but now that I think about him not being here, I cannot imagine life without him or watching his little wife without him. It just can't be!

I have had friends move away, some that have left HUGE holes in my life. We call and write every so often, but generally unless one of us makes a concerted effort to go visit, no matter how much I loved these friends, generally once they are out of sight, life goes on with out them and basically you forget them until Christmas or some other special occasion. Then they are included on your mailing list. Some friends are only heard from in e-mails, and some are only those annoying forwards with nothing personal added. I guess this indicates that at least they are alive and well enough to forward me annoying email. I once had a circle of friends who I did everything with. I took them for granted. We remembered each other's birthdays and met for those occasions, treating the birthday person to lunch, and lavishing each other with Christmas gifts, and birthday gifts, etc. Then one moved away. We all were devastated. We continued with our circle of friends without the missing one, then another moved, then another, then I moved. Leaving behind one friend, who was terribly lonely. But she was not the only one lonely. I never had such a circle again. And as I have talked to these "sisters" none of them have ever had such a circle again either. It was such a rare sweet gift we had, and we all took for granted.

I know we cannot go through life thinking, "This may be the LAST time I see this dear friend or family member." How morose would that be? But how do we not take them for granted either? We get caught up in the every-day living and just expect that we will see them next week in Church or in choir. I tell each of them how much I love them, every time I see them or talk to them on the phone. I tell all my dearest friends "I love you." I know it is a little weird for some, but I tell them anyway, because I truly do.

I call my mother quite often. We both have free long distance. I signed up for this thinking of my mother especially. She cannot live forever, I know this, and I dread the day she has to leave this earth. I don't know if I can go on without her.

I text my sweet Zeepter often, and send her lots of emails. I receive all those cheesy and some really cool forwards from her, but this is evidence she is alive and I rejoice in them.

Last, but not least is my sweet husband. He is so good to me, he shows me every day how much he loves me. I do NOT take him for granted, and I know he feels the same. Daily we show and tell each other how much we mean to each other. It is easy because I see him every day, and not a day goes by without expressing our love to one another. He always leaves a sausage cooked in the pan for breakfast, he always kisses me good-bye in the morning, and I try to make sure the house is nice for him to return, laundry done, etc. He leaves every single morning and goes to work to earn the living. He is my hero.

Besides my good husband, I still think I take the rest for granted. How do we continue to live our daily lives and still express to our friends and family how much we cherish them?

I will send those questions out to the virtual universe and hope you will tell me how you express your affection for your loved ones.

Happy Easter

~a

dealing with death. . . again

I apologize in advance for a depressing post. As you can tell by the title, we are dealing with death, again. Besides President Hinckley, and President Faust's wife (of the LDS Church 1st Presidency) there have been some local deaths.

Since I came home from visiting my mother, two elderly men in our town have died. Both from our Ward, both on the same day!
One, a neighbor was very ill with melanoma and he hung on to life like two cats, each with 9 lives. In the last two years, his sweet single daughter not only reduced her hours at work to take care of him, she gave up her job, social life, and church life in the end to take care of him. During those last years, she got him up, helped him do his "business", showered or sponge bathed him, helped him dress, tied his shoes, fed him, and helped him into his chair. She bought a new TV so he could see it. She took him to all his Dr. appointments. When he was feeling better, she drove him down south to his ancestral hometown and helped him put flowers on the graves of his parents and loved ones. If anyone will have many jewels in her crown in the next life, it will be my sweet friend, Lu Anne. Now her dad has finally died, the funeral is Friday, and then she has some decisions to make. Where will she work? She still has $600 a month house payments. She refinanced the home in order to pay for much needed roof and rewiring a few years ago. Will she sell that very sad little home for nothing (I am wondering if she can even command $40,000 for that postage-sized lot)move up north and pay more rent to get a job, since this town doesn't have much to offer?

The other sweet man who died was an amazing man. He always put you first, and acted like you were the most important and loved person on this earth. He always shook your hand and was always willing to talk. He was once a Bishop in this Ward, and everyone knew him as the handshaking Bishop. Good man. He and his wife served two missions in their latter years. His wife had died 14 months earlier and he really missed her. They were in love and treated each other with such kindness and love. He was ready. He had lived a good life, 88 years old. His sweet daughters spoke today at his funeral. One came all the way from Switzerland with her husband. Her 8 sons who couldn't come, were listed on the back as honorary pall bearers. She is bunking at my house and I feel honored to get the privilege of providing that service. I love her. She is a dear friend.

Both men had lived good lives. Both were widowers and ready to join their wives in the next life. It is hard to watch the daughters miss their dads so bad, but it is also a celebration for the deceased. They are joining their wives, and are no longer in pain. They lived long and good lives.

The other man, is MUCH too young to have a death sentence, but I found out on Monday that my chiropractor has pancreatic cancer. This, according to some research done on the internet, is a death sentence. I have heard as short as 3 months from diagnosis to death, to as long as 22 months. This cancer is terribly hard and the pain is terrible. It is a hard cancer to diagnose, and virtually has NO cure. Chemotherapy can be administered, but basically all it does is to shrink the tumor so the pain is not as bad.
This man is only 60. He has lived a good life, he has worked in the temple, he has served in the genealogy library, he is on the city counsel and is the Fire Chief for our volunteer Fire department. He is soft spoken, understanding and kind. During times when I was his patient, and was pouring my heart out about my woes, he always said "I understand." And I believe he really did.
He has 7 children, all but two are married. I was saddened to think of his poor little wife being left behind. She has worked hard and served faithfully where ever she has been asked. Those two daughters who are not married will not have their dad at their weddings. They are friends with my children, most of their children match up in ages with my children. This news is so depressing. I cannot imagine how it would be to know my dear Sailor was going to leave me for an indeterminate amount of time. I put myself in other's shoes and my heart is aching for dear Mary.
Now Sailor's mom called last night to tell him that a friend of hers drown (fell through the ice) while walking her dog. No one is quite sure what happened, the dog was not wet when he came home without her. She leaves behind a sweet husband, Al.
One more thing~a young man just had a longboard accident. Landed on his head (without a helmet). The Doctors put plates in his head, and some mesh where there was no bone left. He is in a coma and may not live. He is only 24. He and his little sister were really close. His little sister always was right in front of my S3 alphabetically at school and they both had the same name, except hers was the feminine version, so the announcer would have to change the pronunciation each time they read their names together and they would always stumble on their names.

So to those who are left behind, or who might or will be left behind I am so sorry. And to the reader, please say a little prayer for Lu Anne, Ann, Mary, Rodger, Al and Dallas, and all the others left behind. Go kiss your spouse and loved ones, call your dads and moms & children and tell them you love them, and count your blessings. Life is short.
~a

Two years is a LONG time

As I contemplate these last two years, part of me cannot believe that it has already flown by, and part of me feels like it has been a gazillion years since Guitar Player got his call in February of 05. I remember calling The Sailor and telling him to meet us on Jones Road, half way between home and work. We stood there by the side of the road as he opened his call and it said "You are called to serve in the Taiwan Taichung Mission".
Now it is only 10 days away from when we board that plane and fly to Taiwan to get him.
The new mission rules, which were made known after we purchased our tickets, are discouraging the parents from picking up their missionary. So our opportunity is indeed a rare and sweet one. We look forward to meeting the people he worked with, tasting the types of food he ate and seeing the countryside where he labored for two years.
Many things have happened while he was away. He left in May of 2005. His sister, The Nurse, got married just before he left, and had a baby a year later in May. Two of his sister-in-laws each had a baby as well. His grandpa died last year too. So he will have two nieces and one nephew with whom he can become acquainted.
In our humble town, Main Street looks much better. Several old buildings on Main Street have been torn down. New businesses have taken up residence in their places.
Now as I lay my suitcase out on the bed and begin to place folded clothes and belongings inside, I am realizing that this is for REAL.
It seemed like a dream in the far-away future to have him come home and almost an impossible notion to travel there.
Wish us luck. We don't read or speak a word of Chinese and feel anxiety about finding our way from the Taipei airport to the mission home in Taichung. He has arranged for a friend to be our guide, to drive our rented car and come along on all our Taiwan adventures. This is a happy anticipation, and relieves us greatly.
I will keep you updated on the adventures.