The Momshell

Clickety Clickety FOLLOW

2011-11-15T22:53:00.000-08:00

Who is this ghostly spectre?
What made her life so grim?
I will tell you......
if you really want to know.
She took her own life because.......

No one clicked to the right of her blog where the button said....
"JOIN THIS SITE."
Nah I'm just teasing.
But it would make me happy to know who you are out there.
It's easy....
Click the button
It's on the left side
Scroll down a little
Your picture would be there and
I will get to see you....
And then I will tell the real reason for her demise.
Cmon....you know you want to.

Ladies only please...I am using the word bra

2011-11-11T13:45:00.000-08:00

I bought my very sports bra today.

It was as bad as any other bra shopping experience to date with the added pressure

of jogging in the dressing room to check out that it was capable of doing it's "job".

It was part of my pre-race ritual...

Yes I said the word RACE.

A word that until today in my vocabulary only meant to specify:

a group of persons related by common decent or heredity.

Tonight it will mean something totally different.

It will mean "Onward movement"

It is only 1.1 miles in honor of 11/11/11.

I am not honoring it...the race people are,

But my friend Joy signed me up and said that I could do it.

And it is the shortest one that I have heard about.

It makes my stomach feel funny.

So I have dedicated the day to it.

I don't know how the running "pro's" do it but being such a novice.....

Here is my schedule....

10:00 woke up....slept in for that extra energy or maybe because it's cold outside

10-11 Laid in bed with the covers over my head wondering "WHAT IN THE WORLD WAS I THINKING"

11:00 Power breakfast of a Life cereal bar since my blender was dirty. I forgot to turn on the dishwasher last night because I was wondering "WHAT IN THE WORLD WAS I THINKING" and I didn't want to waste any more needed energy.

11-12 Edited photos until I realized that I was getting a crick in my neck....stopped immediately and wondered what the "pros" do about that.

12-1 Went to Wal-Mart to buy jogging clothes and all important jogging bra. Stopped at Sonic for the also all important Route 44 Diet Coke with Cranberry and Extra Ice. Told my Sonic friend Margarita at the drive through window that I was running my first race tonight. The language barrier did not allow me to fully explain it to her and so we just smiled and she said "Be Careful"....good advice, I think.

1-2 Ate Sushi and think about if that is what the "pros" eat.

2-3 Write this post.

3-4 Change in to oddly uncomfortable newly purchased running clothes and think, "WHAT IN THE WORLD WAS I THINKING???"

Every since my children left the nest I have been trying to do things that take me out my comfort zone. I have found that it is the only way to really be happy.

I had gotten so used to being a mother that I forgot what it was like to do something totally new

Totally scary.

Totally crazy.

I guess that's what I was thinking....

Wish me luck

Cuz here I go!

P.S. I love this picture. I was at the Chinese Long Boat Races in Sugar Land and there was this crowd of children ready to give a demonstration of their karate skills. All of the children were wound up and excited and playing and laughing.

This little girl was so focused, she blocked everything out.

She was going through her routine in her mind.

She was so focused.

I wanna be just like her.

Perception

2011-11-09T17:18:00.000-08:00

It's quiet.
I have accomplished what I feel is a day's full of activities
and it is not quite 7 pm.
I jokingly posted this on my facebook wall...
I slept in, did some work, went to lunch with my mom, cleaned my room, walked 3 miles, made dinner and elfed myself and my siblings and it isn't even 7pm yet. This daylight savings time is really messing with me. I'm going to have to start pacing myself better.
It struck me that years ago I dreamed this life.
All too real memories flood back of waiting for Todd after the darkness of daylight savings time had caused all three children to be back safely in the house and watch the minutes tick by as if they were hours. Each child either hungry, bored, tired or the combination of all three and me trying to fix dinner and mentally counting the minutes till my relief showed up. On bad evenings (and truly there were not that many....flashbacks are always a little exaggerated) I would mentally count the years until they were all gone.
Figuring that maybe the smarter ones could skip a grade or two.
(To my three amazingly intelligent children reading this.....of course mommy means you)
And therefore take a few years off of my sentence.
I knew that the light at the end of the tunnel would be glorious.
And it is....
kinda

I want to skip to another story here before I wrap up this little "deep thought"
(Don't worry I will come back to this one)

I was in the Salt Lake airport last week waiting for my flight to take me back home.
I had had a wonderful week with my four children.
(Yes Dave you ARE my family)
And I was a little misty at the thought of leaving them.
With the Winns, good-byes are usually pretty ugly.
I was excited to get back to my new home, my sweet husband and my very quiet life
But I still was trying to transition.
I decided my best strategy was to go stand at the missionary portal.
For those of you who are not LDS or from the state of Utah let me explain.
In the Salt Lake airport there is a place that daily has families and friends
Huddled together with balloons and signs and smiles that are the best smiles in the world.
Seriously..
What smile beats the one of a mother about to embrace her son after two years of not doing so?
The only reunions that I have ever seen to equal them are the military reunion videos that I have stopped myself from watching since I end up crying so much I am afraid of short circuiting my keyboard.
The looks on these peoples faces are like a boost...
A legal drug...
Better than a triple rainbow.
They are my favorite thing about flying out of Utah.
I watched for a few minutes and remembered
I could feel the hug that meant so much to me in Guatemala
I knew that when tears were about to form that it was time for me to move through the
jolting reality of security.
As I approached the woman TSA agent I took one more look behind me to soak up the look on the eager families faces...
A moment in time that they would remember forever.
Uplifted I gave her a big smile and said HI!!
(In fairness I always smile because I don't want to be strip searched, but this one was real, I promise)
I then blurted out,
"You must have the BEST job in the world!"
She scowled.
I mean you get to watch this (and I pointed my arms in the direction of missionary portal) EVERYDAY!
That's when she exploded.
"I WISH THEY WOULD ALL STAY HOME LIKE THEY ARE SUPPOSE TO! IT JUST MAKES MY JOB WORSE!"
I walked away a little stunned.
I wanted to say something but I didn't...... but remember.....security body cavity search????
I just had to settle on thinking in my mind what I had just experienced.
How two people could see something so differently.
That what made one person weep with emotion...
Would make another person so angry.
I guess it's all about perception.

And so I say to all my friends out there with small children at home who are in the trenches of motherhood. Yes there are some great things to look forward to...
But enjoy every second that you can right now.
There are things to be missed.
And miss them you will.
It is all about perception.

P.S. To all those wondering why I posted that picture with this post....I just liked it. I like scary things. Todd does not.....perception

A day that will live in infamy.......

2011-11-04T16:37:00.000-07:00

No not Pearl Harbor.....
November 4, 1966 to be exact.
Now before you accuse me of being dramatic...remember that to a five year old being bumped out of the coveted place of "baby of the family" is the same act that declares war.
And war it was.
I have but few really detailed memories of the first ten years of my life.
But there is one that stands out with perfect clarity.
On the first anniversary of said date of infamy.
November 4, 1967
My mom and I spent an afternoon together...alone.
Which wasn't that common since I was the third of four children.
I think that she sensed that I needed a little extra attention with the year that I had just lived through.
And so we made a cake together.
I was able to help bake and frost and even decorate.
Which didn't happen too often in my mother's very controlled kitchen.
At the time I thought it the most magnificent of all cakes.
Decorated with a border of animal crackers that I had carefully and artistically placed.
I was overwhelmed with feelings of pride and amazement.
And then it happened...
If there was ever a time when my emotions went from pure joy to sheer terror, this was that day.
The cake that was a symbol of what a mother and daughters love could create was offered up..
On a beautiful white glass pedestal platter.....
To him!

I could not believe my tear filled eyes.
He was actually just given the whole thing to claw and paw at with his little grubby fingers,
while everyone laughed and snapped photos.
The tears flowed freely and my vehement protests fell on deaf ears.
Then the laughter and cameras turned to me to document my torture.
I couldn't bear another minute.
I left the room and found a corner to hide in.
And that is when I first learned that
War truly is hell.
P.S. This is the little cake monster now.

We have actually mentally signed a peace treaty and declared the war over...
But if he EVER touches a cake of mine again with his grubby little paws...........
Well I cannot be held responsible for what will happen then.
P.S.S. Happy Birthday Baby Davey. You turned out to be one of the few men that I both love and admire. You are the best baby brother that I could have asked for even though I didn't actually realize it at the time. That being said you still owe me a pristine untouched birthday cake with an animal cracker border.

Compliments of the Management

2011-10-19T22:24:00.000-07:00

Only the best when the Winn family sets out on their road trips....
We drive in style and comfort in our big ole red van.
We dine in the finest fast food establishments available in places like ...
Comanche, Texline, Gustine, and Nageezi. (actually there is no fast food in Nageezi, there is not even a gas station or a stop sign but I like to say it's name anyway)
And we ~~almost~~ NEVER eat at a fast food that is attached to a gas station.
After all we have our high standards to uphold.
Our nights lodgings are always first class as well.
As evidenced by the gift that was waiting for us in our hotel in New Mexico.
Not only was the management offering us it finest guest towel with their compliments....
But they also made sure we understood the many ways that we could use this great gift.
I am certainly going to appreciate the "guest towels" that we collect in our fine eating establishments as well
now that I know just how many uses there are for something
of this quality.
P.S. Isn't my son just the cutest?

Goodbye my friend...

2011-10-18T22:13:00.000-07:00

I said goodbye to a dear friend today.
They say that what doesn't break you....makes you stronger....
But what about what you break?
Does that make you stronger?
I stared at the tile floor this afternoon in shock believing that if I just stared long enough my camera would jump back up in place perched upon the brand new tripod I was testing.
CONCENTRATE
CONCENTRATE....
That did NOT just happen.
Well I guess I am getting ahead of myself here....
It all started when I decided to practice my photography skills while showing ya'll my new house and at the same time showing off my excessive Halloween decorations. Multi-tasking....and since I had slept in later this morning than I should it was going to be an atonement of sorts.
I excitedly pulled out my newest toy.
A brand new tripod!
Nothing says professional like a fancy new tripod....
I attached my favorite wide angle lens and aimed it towards my ever increasing stash of Halloween, while contemplating whether or not my home was beginning to look like the shelves at Hobby Lobby.
Click!
What joy to be shooting......
Crash!!
(This part was truly like it is in the movie...slow motion....while the sounds of OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO out of mouth were equally slow)
The crashing thud made my stomach flip flop and I hesitated to look down. I stared at the top of the tripod and blinked a couple of times to make sure.
And then I looked down.
It was on the floor
and there were a couple of pieces of broken plastic scattered around it.
I just froze.
Picking it up would mean I would have to face the consequences.
Was it a total loss?
Minutes seemed to pass...
It's funny how the mind sometimes refuses to process what it does not want to process.
I finally bent down and scooped it up.
I turned it on and all of the right lights and numbers appeared.
Could it be that all would be alright?
Were the camera gods smiling down upon me.
I slowly pressed the shutter release button......
Darkness.
My wide angle lens...
My very FIRST lens ever....
was gone.
I post tonight the last picture that it took,
in memory of a wonderful lens.
I will miss you..
sniff
sniff.
P.S. The lens must have taken the force of the fall since the camera is working fine. I took over 500 shots at a middle school football game tonight. Whew.....)

Quarter Century...Oh Baby!

2011-10-17T13:39:00.000-07:00

25 years ago today I met her.
She made it known immediately that my life would never be the same.
We named her Megan.
which means strong.
And we were right on the money with that decision.
She is STRONG
I used to describe her as a 100 watt bulb in a 25 watt socket.
She is BEAUTIFUL
inside and out.
She is INTELLIGENT
I knew I was in trouble when at 2 she was speaking full sentences that started out with, "Well actually Mom."
She is FAITHFUL
Faithful to her family, to her husband, and to the gospel.
She is my FIRST BORN
subject to all the perks and downsides of being my "test case". We had to figure out being a mother and daughter together and she still is the first to enter new frontiers as our relationship develops.
She is ARTICULATE
she speaks her mind and believe me her mind is filled to capacity. She amazes me with her ability to remember and to think and to speak.
She is LOVING
She loves with all her heart and is always there to help out her family with whatever they need.
She is TALENTED
she teaches like a seasoned professional and is there for any of her students to help them and guide them in life's tricky teenage journeys.
She is my Megan and I have been honored to share the last 25 years of my life intertwined with hers.
She is my shinin' pride
A quarter of a century of being her mother.
What an honor and privilege.
I love you Meggie Peggie.
Happy Birthday!

Self Portraits at the Tax Office

2011-09-26T22:58:00.000-07:00

I was number 48.
They were only on 21 at the Tax Assessor's Office.
They made us sit in pews like we were at a church meeting.
All facing the front like we were being watched.
And we couldn't talk on our cell phones.
Not at all.
So I did the next best thing.
The guy who was sittting next to me slid down to the other end of the pew,
after I took these self portraits.
Why?

Don't make me go all "Terms of Endearment" on you.

2011-09-20T17:10:00.000-07:00

My Dad had back surgery this morning.
As the nurses and doctors were bustling around preparing him for surgery...
What was I doing?
Taking pictures of course!
Duh!
I mean why else would I be there?
Actually I can come in handy sometimes for other things as well.
Last night I lay in bed anticipating the 6:00 alarm and staring at the ceiling when my thoughts turned to another surgery my father had about 15 years ago.
He had prostate cancer and decided that the best treatment would surgery. I went with them so that I could sit in the waiting room with my mom who happens to hold the title of "Greatest Worrier in the World".
Seriously...
She has perfected the art of worrying and should teach college level classes at the local university.
There was 5 or 6 other families that were all there waiting for their family members to have the same procedure. We were all told that the nurse would come out when the procedure was begun and then midway through to give us a progress report and then towards the end when they were almost finished. Then the doctor would come out and talk to us about the surgery.
We sat anxiously waiting for the first report as did the other families in the room.
The first report trickled out to each family one by one and we all felt a little relief.
The second report came a couple of hours later like dominoes falling and as each family heard the news they would smile and look a little more comfortable.
That is except Mom and I.
We didn't get out second report.
We waited and waited and waited.
Every time a nurse would come in, we would be hopeful that she was looking for us, only to watch her pass on by.
As the nurses came to the other families to give a final report we were getting downright scared.
Finally a nurse comes up to us and says, "Would you follow me?"
She leads us into a small room that looks like has been set up to resemble someones living room. A tacky one at that.
My eyes scan the room and fall on the box of kleenex and a bible.
This can't be good.
I don't want to say what I am thinking of course because I am there to be the support person.
I am the designated "everything's going to be fine" person.
I try my best to reassure my mother who is at this point looking as frightened as I have ever witnessed.
Both of us are trying to figure out what will come next.
I reassure her again that I am sure that it will be fine.
But I don't know that.
5 minutes pass.
It seems like hours.
I keep saying the same thing over and over to my mother's concerns that my father has passed away.
"We don't know that! Everything will be okay."
Ten minutes pass.
My words are hollow and I have nothing left new to say.
Everytime I look at my mother's face I feel pain and that makes me
ANGRY.
After the longest 15 minutes I have ever waited through I decide my mother has suffered enough.
I don't know if you have seen the movie, "Terms of Endearment"

But in a nutshell, Shirley Maclaines daughter is dying of cancer and is in a lot of pain.
When it comes to the time she should have another pain pill the nurses are not responding.
In one of my favorite scenes ever, she goes to the nurses station, pounds her fists on the counter and screams for them to get her daughter a pain pill.
It is all that she can do for this person she loves so much.
Take away her pain.
Well I quickly surveyed our "family room" and saw a door marked,
"Medical personnel only"
I got up and opened the door and came face to face with the big metal swinging door marked Surgery.
At this point there was no stopping me.
I pushed them open as hard as I could
And faced a counter of surprised nurses faces.
Before they could even speak I said something to this effect.
"My sweet mother has been sitting in this horrible room thinking that her husband is dead for over 15 minutes now and I don't care what it takes but somebody is going to go and give her information NOW!"
(I can't remember if I pounded my fists or not but I hope so)
The poor nurses were stunned and it took a moment for it to sink in.
"What's your Dad's name?"
John Lauck.
"Oh he is fine and in recovery. His doctor should have been already. He likes to talk to the family privately instead of in the waiting room."
Well la-ti-da!
Couldn't someone have told us that to begin with?
One of the best pieces of information I have ever been able to deliver was to my sweet mother that everything was fine, better than fine....it was great!
This morning the nurse told us before my dad went in that this doctor will take us into a private room to discuss the surgery.
It's a good thing they told me.
I don't think they want me to go all "Shirley Maclaine" on them.
Nobody wants to see that again.

My Dilemma

2011-09-19T16:12:00.000-07:00

Well I told you I have a dilemma with my new job...right?
Here it is in a nutshell.....
MUSIC!
I am sure you are scratching your head and wondering if I belong in a nutshell.
I have spent the past 25 years either listening to Disney soundtracks or giving up control of my car radio to the frantic fingers of my teenagers whose attention spans rarely ever let me hear what I wanted to listen to.
But no more.
I am in my car, well Bill's car, alone with nothing but the real estate signs rattling in the back.
So I turn on the radio.
My music of choice?
Er...well...mmm....okay okay.
I ADMIT IT! I like the current music and I like rap!
And by that I don't mean that I like to appear really cool in front of my kids or their friends by cranking up todays current hits and dancing in a style that they think was invented at the age of dinosaurs.
I mean I "secretly" like it and would rather not anyone know it.
After all I am a mature woman and proud of that fact.
But I am a product of the 70's and the disco beat still runs through my veins....
I wasn't born an old lady you know.

I once "got down" to the likes of the Earth Wind and Fire, the Commodores, Brick and the very infancy of rap music.
And even though the kids of today wouldn't admit it the beat is really still the same.
Infectious.
My problem is that since I have so much time to drive and think.....
I also have time to pay attention to the lyrics.
I mean...I knew some of them were not that great but I started to see a horrible pattern developing. A message woven like an ugly tapestry through the pounding of the mesmerizing beats.
Women are only used for one thing.
and
Guys should really just push that agenda until they get what they want.
The messages though repugnant to ME don't change my views but strengthen my desire to eradicate them.
I remember the first time I actually listened to the lyrics of "Tonight" by Enrique Iglesias.

I know you want me
I made it obvious that I want you too
So put it on me
Let's remove the space between me and you
Now rock your body
D#$@ I like the way that you move
So give it to me
Cause I already know what you wanna do

Here's the situation
Been to every nation
Nobody’s ever made me feel the way that you do
You know my motivation
Give in my reputation
Please excuse I don't mean to be rude

But tonight I'm loving you
Oh you know
That tonight I'm loving you
Oh you know
That tonight I'm loving you
I couldn't believe that given his "reputation" and knowing his "motivation" that ANY woman would want him. He does say "excuse me and I don't mean to be rude" and all but seriously!!
Enrique!....I don't care if you were the last man on earth and I was twenty years younger and the worlds fate depended on us procreating would I EVER let you come within 10 feet of my you international twerp!
It goes on to say a bunch of more offensive things which I guess are supposed to make a girl swoon.
Is this really how young girls expect to be wooed?
(I know using the word wooed here is a dead give away that I rode a dinosaur to school but it is a perfectly good word and by the sounds of our society needs to be not only brought back but defined!)
Ne-Yo's current song takes it even a step farther with the lyrics...

excuse me
but i might drink a little bit more than i should tonight
and i might take you home with me if i could tonight
and i think you should let me cause i look good tonight
and we might not get tomorrow

grab somebody sexy tell ‘em hey
give me everything tonight
give me everything tonight
give me everything tonight
give me everything tonight
Really!
Should I count myself lucky that you started with the word "excuse me" and were honest about the fact that you are drunk and did you REALLY just say that there might not be tomorrow?
Wow someone else used that line in a really popular book.
It's called the BIBLE and his name was Satan.
So thanks but no thanks....(see I have manners too)

And Maroon 5's new one...Moves like Jagger

I don't need try to control you
Look into my eyes and I'll own you
With them the moves like jagger.

It would take a little more than you prancing around like creepy Mick Jagger to control me and you would NEVER even have a shot in you know where to own me.
Now I don't like to get on a soapbox about things like this and I am past the point where I could be influenced by this pap, but, I still feel guilty.
I teach a Sunday school class of 12 and 13 year old young men and young women that might not exactly know who they really are yet and lyrics like these could really mess somebody up.
I don't want to become a crusader for better music since that rarely ever works.
I still remember a stake fireside when I was a youth were they tried to explain the impact that music was having on our teen age minds.
When they brought up the lyrics to "Momma's got a squeeze box", and said that there was a "double meaning" to it, we actually could not contain our laughter.
Laughed out loud there sitting on the church pews.
We thought that they were just so not with it and we were so impervious to any effects from music.
Now the lyrics to songs are not even encoded with secret messages about sexuality.
They just come out and boldly demand it.
(Well they do say excuse me and I don't mean to be rude)

And so I worry about the young people who are constantly barraged with these messages.
And I wonder what more I can do......
And I wonder if that means I have to stop listening to it too.
P.S. Excuse me Rihanna!! I don't mean to be rude but you are nasty.

New House...New Job....New Me!

2011-09-16T13:34:00.000-07:00

So hard to know where to begin after my blogging absence.
There have been so many changes that have happened.
Should I start with the one that I get the most questions about?
........my chunkier highlights?
Nah...
I'll save that for another day.
Let's talk about my new J O B!
Yes a JOB!
(Not that the last 25 years of raising children, running the house, chauffeuring, volunteer work, church callings, and assorted miscellaneous duties have been all fun and games)
But someone is going to finally compensate me with cash dollars for my time.
WHAT A CONCEPT!
p.s. the photography doesn't count until I make enough money to cover the cost of my equipment and therefore make it from the minus to the plus column.
It kinda just fell into my lap.
I was talking to my real estate agent Bill Moore about our house that we are trying to sell
(Did I tell you I have a NEW house.....different post than today though)
He asked me if I knew any young people that could use a part time job as a runner,
I didn't.
But I jokingly said that if he didn't sell my house quickly then I would certainly need him to hire me.
We both chuckled.
And that was the extent of the conversation.
That night as I was thinking about the day, it struck me like in the cartoons where the mouse hits the cat with a frying pan....
WHY NOT!
I could be a runner!!!
(Now to all those who know me and are snickering at the thought of my job title having the word "runner" in it, I want you to know two things...First I am a new woman regarding exercise....another post for another day AND Bill has upgraded my title to "Courier" in deference to advanced years of maturity)
So I emailed Bill and asked for the job.
It's actually perfect for me right now.
It is very flexible.
I get to take pictures of houses. Love that of course.
And the one part I thought I wouldn't like.....
the driving
is actually turning out to be one of my favorite parts!
Who'd have thunk it!

I get to drive a Scion with Bill's face on it which can sometimes attract some stares.
I get to use my new muscles placing and removing heavy signs from our Houston drought parched soil.
I get to see different parts of the city.
Today I saw a HUMONGOUS cross I never knew existed.
I get to listen to music on the radio.
I never know what my assignment will be or what danger lies ahead.
Kinda like a real estate James Bond.

This was a fun sign to retrieve.
All in all it has been a really great fit for me.
I only have one dilemma...
And it has to do with the music......
And that my friends will be my next post.
I'm going to need your help on this one.
(Someone asked me if it was embarrassing to drive a car with advertising and I said, "Heck no! It could always be worse.)

P.S. If you are looking to sell or buy a house and want a great real estate agent call Bill Moore
Need the number?
It's right on the car!

Missing you.....

2011-09-13T10:35:00.000-07:00

Hey....
(head nod)
What's new?
(awkward silence)
So..um....yeah......guess it's been awhile.
(head bowed a little, eyes staring towards my feet)
So um...I don't know if you are still interested or whatever...but...
(looking up at little while fidgeting with my keyboard)
I did a few things this summer....
(awkward pause #2)
I mean if you are interested....
Um, that is..... unless you are following some other blogger.
Which I would sooooo totally understand....TOTALLY.
But you know whatever, cause no big deal.....
It's just that I moved unexpectedly, went to Europe, got two new jobs, lost 50 pounds, climbed a mountain, changed my perspectives and decided to go "chunkier" on the highlights on my hair.
But no biggee...
It's just that I had a story or two....
And....
(blushing a little bit)
I missed ya'll.

You're a TURTLE!

2011-05-03T23:19:00.000-07:00

I hope you enjoyed my list of 25 things about me and then 25 more things....
Someone challenged #23....
He shall remain nameless.
I am sure that he would want it that way.
P.S. You can read his writings at boyceinthewilderness.blogspot.com
Anyway....
It is not something that I would claim without a fair amount of certainty....
I can look at a person and tell what animal they would be.
It's a gift.
The very first time was at church.
Sometimes surprisingly enough my mind can wander in the three hours of worship each Sabbath.
I happened to glance at a man sitting across the room listening reverently to the speaker and I knew right away.
TURTLE.
easy smeasy.....
But that was when my skills were still young and underdeveloped.
Turtles are easy to pick out.
So are bears.
They are the fundamental ABC's of animal game.
As the years have passed I have sharpened my skill.
Some people are very easy to guess. They resemble an animal close enough as to not even have to think much about it.
Some people take some time to figure out.
Sometimes it has taken me days......
It is not just facial qualities either. It is also the personality of the person. It is their essence.
Don't be jealous...
It's just a gift.
And I will try and use it only for good.....
or when the speaker is droning on in a meeting.

The Last 25.....or as my spooky computer says, 1-25

2011-04-25T18:14:00.000-07:00

Well I am sure you are all just sitting by your computers....
waiting for the conclusion of the 50 things you might not know about me.
And since I have never been one to want to disappoint.....
For some odd reason my computer changed the numbers that I copied and pasted from 25 to 50 to now saying 1 to 25 again.
I did NOT ask it to make that change.
I find it highly suspicious that it knew how to and made that "executive decision" without my consent.
It is almost spooky...
But that's okay with me as you will read in number 17 which was really suppose to be number 42.
Now I KNOW my laptop is male....only a man would change something you didn't want changed.
Here we go:

1. I like rap music but feel too guilty about it’s lyrics so I don’t listen to it.

2. I was a disco dancer in the 70’s.

3. I love to play Nintendo but only the old school Donkey Kong and Mario World.

4. I can name at least 25 Pokemon characters.

5. I know all of the words to The Devil Went Down to Georgia and Convoy.

6. I liked CB radios when I was a teen and went by the handle “The Dimpled Darlin”

7. I think cowboys are handsome.

8. I have been in 46 of the 50 states.

9. Todd has been trying to take me to Hawaii for 27 years now but we always end up spending any extra money on trips for our whole family.

10. I love turquoise jewelry and silver jewelry.

11. I hate olives

12. I want to like olives so every year I eat one just to make sure things haven’t changed.

13. I make really good candy but I cannot bake.

14. I do not like to follow recipes and so I only cook what I want to put in something.

15. I do not know my right from my left without looking at my hands and seeing which one makes an “L” with my thumb and fingers.

16. I almost failed my drivers test because of that.

17. I LOVE spooky stories and anything Halloween related.

18. I think that graveyards are so amazing and I have a favorite headstone and a favorite graveyard.

19. I am never scared speaking in front of crowds big or small.

20. But I am scared to go to Guatemala.

21. I keep having nightmares that Todd won’t get a good picture of me hugging Jack when I first see him and I want that picture so I can look at it forever.

22. I believe that if you don’t have a picture of something it just might not have happened.

23. I can look at anyone and decide what animal they are most like.

24. My favorite sound in the whole world is when I make one of my family laugh out loud.

25. My Heavenly Father has blessed me with the most amazing parents, brothers and sister, husband, children and friends and I know that I have been blessed beyond belief.

Half of 50 is 25........

2011-04-23T17:34:00.000-07:00

I am trying to delete old files on my laptop computer.
I had a virus.
(And not anyone even brought me chicken soup or anything)
I thought that I had totally lost all my pictures and documents because I had to do a complete restore.
Then I realized that the computer is a sneaky little devil.
After I totally added all of the files from a back up location
I realized that everything was still on my computer after all.
Only it was hiding.
And so today I have played hide and go seek with my good friend Mr. Computer.
Yes...he is a guy.
Only a male could be this much trouble.
Anyway long story short
I came across a document that I wrote about a year or so ago.
It was 50 things you might not know about me.
And because I have sensed that you all are waiting patiently for just such a blog post.
I mean who wouldn't.....
I am going to post 25 today
and 25 next time.

So today's installment.........

1. I am claustrophobic and can really only relax if I sit on the end of a row.

2. I have a dog and like her but do not like “owning a dog’

3. When I was little I thought I would grow up to star on a show like the Brady Bunch.

4. I have known since I was born that God loves me.

5. I can tie a cherry stem with my mouth.

6. My favorite body part is my feet.

7. I can only wear a tee shirt if it is a v neck.

8. My favorite and lucky number is 8 and I was born on the eighth month and the eighth day.

9. I am directly related to John Adams and John Quincy Adams.

10. I can pick up a roach with my bare hands

11. But I will scream if a gecko gets anywhere near me.

12. I knew I would marry my husband just a few days after talking to him.

13. I waited for him while he served a mission.

14. I do not like anything with red sauce in it.

15. I thought I hated pizza until I found out I only like it with pesto sauce and only if it is within what I call a pizza window (2 to 7 minutes)

16. Now pizza is one of my favorite foods ever.

17. I do not like spicy foods and believe that people who do have damaged their taste buds.

18. I do not believe there should ever be pain associated with eating.

19. My first car was a bright yellow VW rabbit.

20. I use to collect rabbits. (figurines)

21. I lived in downtown New York when I was five and still remember celebrating my birthday there.

22. I have a soft spot for people who stutter.

23. I feel guilty that I didn’t have more children.

24. I honestly feel that my children are amazing beyond belief.

25. I was bit on the rear end by a German Shepherd when I was 10.

Oh boy wasn't that fun!

I bet you can't wait until the last 25.......

Whatever.

All you had to do was ask.........

2011-04-20T16:55:00.000-07:00

I got a sweet message from someone special today...
(I won't mention her name, she is much too modest for a shout out)
She requested that I write again
She is the first person to notice my absence.
How did she know that was all I was waiting for.....
Ok well maybe blaming my blogging absence on ya'll is a little unfair.
But Miss L's comment was really the spark that I needed to get me going again.
It has been quite a while since I have written and there are a myriad of reasons why....and I wrote so many wonderful posts at 2 am while lying in my bed that is really is a shame that I didn't write a one down.
But you see I was in a cocoon.
And everybody knows that there are no laptops in a cocoon.
Duh?
It is no surprise to you I am sure since I warned you that I was joining the ranks of the "empty nesters"
Side note: I hate the term empty nesters and from this time hence it will be banned in my Blogdom. I mean really....just because my children are gone does NOT make my nest empty. HELLO!! Todd and I are still sitting right here....in the nest.....big as day (p.s. working on that).
The nest is not only still occupied.
It's a fine nest.
I mean hey...I can still be a real barrel of monkeys
and as for Todd...... well ever heard of the term "eye candy".
We will henceforth be called the Monkey Eye Candy Party Nest! (don't worry I will work on that one)
End of side note.
I think I have finally exited my chrysalis.
Saved and transformed by a machine.
(oh yea, and the love and support of my family yada yada yada)
My new best friend and saving grace.
My camera.
I am a photographer.
I run my own business...(with a little help from my friends..you know who you are wink wink nudge nudge)
I am reborn.
(My only problem is my boss...she can be a real barrel of monkeys...if you know what I mean)
Thank you for waiting for me
Thank you little Miss L.
Thank you.
I shall not let you down again.

Way to go Big Bro...

2011-03-02T17:51:00.000-08:00

IHOP's Annual Pancake Day Helps Kids in Need: MyFoxDC.com
This is my big brother John who has been on TV twice this week. Once on CSPAN and this report on a local Washington DC station. The boy in this is hilarious. Just watch what happens when the reporter asks him what he likes to do....he is torn between his own answer and what his mother wanted him to say.
Back when John Lauck was Johnny his nursery leader thought he would grow up to be trouble, always telling my mom her concerns.
Too bad she is not alive to see how well he turned out.
P.S. This is a great charity to give to. A dollar at a time will make a difference for children in need of medical care.

Celebrity at the Gym

2011-02-28T21:37:00.000-08:00

Mr. T and I have joined a gym.
With all the time we have freed up from ousting the kids from the nest,
We figured that it was time to do something good for ourselves.
We go every night after he comes home from work.
Now I want it to be fully understood that I HATE to exercise.
I know HATE is a strong word and one that I rarely let my children say but
I HATE exercise.
HATE.
Just ask the poor little woman who stood in the circle at Curves....
another of my attempts to be healthy.
For those of you not familiar with Curves, it is a big circle of exercise equipment
that you keep rotating on and every 30 seconds or something like that you move to the
next piece of equipment or else you walk in place.
It's a big game of exercise ring around the rosey and I was not happy about playing.
The concept is that the whole thing takes you 20 or so minutes and you work out all the important parts of your body while raising your heart rate.
In the center was a perky young thing in a track suit, encouraging us all on like a Ring around the Rosey Cheerleader.
She was very sweet and very friendly and I was very
grouchy.
She knew my name from the first day and would practically sing a personal Hello to me each day.
I would usually just glare.
Frankly it was my mother's bright idea to join and I was not really convinced of it's benefits.
In the 6 or so months that I attended if my heart rate ever made it over 100 I would have been surprised.
A lot of the women worked out in their regular street clothes.
Plus I was fully able to carry on in depth conversations with my Mom that every one in the circle seemed to be eavesdropping on......including Miss Perky in the middle.
If I think about it too much I get a case of the guilts.
It wasn't her fault.
My heart was just not in it.
This time it is different.
I joined the YMCA last year and tried to smile at everyone there.
I was doing this because I wanted to.
(and it didn't hurt that there was a TV attached to each treadmill)
I loved going with my daughter and spending that time with her each day.
(She is an exercise beast hopefully not inheriting my exercise tendencies.)
Well after she left I upgraded to LA fitness.....no TVs but my with my iphone in my ears and the Black Eyed Peas singing Boom Boom Pow I have been doing pretty well.
Tonight my exercise was enhanced by a celebrity in the gym.
You will never guess who was on the treadmill across from me!.....

I know that it is a little blurry and grainy but you try taking a picture while walking on a treadmill.
Plus it reminds me of the fuzzy Loch Ness Monster or Big Foot pictures...
Can you tell who the celebrity was?
Well then here is a better view.....

THAT'S RIGHT!!
It is the ChickfilA cow....
which is fitting I guess since his establishment is responsible for at least some of the extra pounds that I carry.
See.....
Exercise IS fun!
But I still HATE it.

Hair by Oscar

2011-02-28T00:04:00.000-08:00

And the Oscar for best bed hair goes to........

Watching the academy awards tonight prompted me to try and glam up myself.
I noticed that the hair styles this year were the ones that looked like,
"Hey I am so beautiful I just rolled out of bed and came on over"
The irony I am sure is that it probably took a team of hair stylists 2 or 3 hours
to produce such a look.
Mine you ask?
Well I don't want to brag but it only took a second or two.
I think the reading glasses give me that "intelligient rumpled look"
I never ceased to be amused by Hollywood....
I guess that's why they call it entertainment.

The Miracle of the Malibu concluded and a promise.

2011-02-23T20:39:00.000-08:00

I am not ever going to do it again....
No Sir!
Every time I say that I am going to write a two part story or explain something later,
I use every excuse in the book not to do it.
I don't know if the part of my brain that writes is a temperamental diva who only writes when the whim hits or a petulant juvenile delinquent refusing to do what they said they would do...
Either way I hate to break a promise.
So here is the conclusion to my Malibu Miracle Story.....
I hope it is worth the wait.
The Malibu was purchased initially for Todd. After stuffing his six foot three frame into subcompact car after subcompact car (all we could afford) we saved up enough money to upgrade just a little bit to the Chevy Malibu where the top of his head did not actually come so close to scraping the roof of the vehicle. It had a V6 engine much more powerful than what he had been driving the 40 miles a day to and from his office, much of it on fast moving freeways.
After just a couple of years of driving it, we inherited my Dad's big bright red Cadillac which he had purchased used and lovingly driven. Megan had turned 15 and was learning to drive and my Dad thought that it would be a good heavy safe car for her. It was definitely heavy but it was huge. It became clear that for the protection of the other drivers on the road that the smaller Malibu would be better to teach her in since staying between the white lines of the road was not an inborn quality.
So Mr. T did the chivalrous thing and let her borrow it for awhile....
It never became his again.
While he was suffering the jokes and snickers of his fellow coworkers for his "sweet caddy ride" , the Malibu was busy teaching, crashing and carrying the Winn kids. It suffered numerous hits from behind and two fairly serious accidents which threatened to "total" it. Because of the rear end accidents, the trunk never closed properly and so whenever it rained it leaked into the trunk giving a distinct odor that earned it's nickname of the Smellabu. Well actually to be fair the distinct smell also could have come from the constant flow of trash, dirty marching clothes, stinky shoes and left over food and drink that became it's fate.
But through all of that it ran.....
And most importantly kept my kids safe.
Even when it was viciously attacked by someone seeking revenge by pouring maple syrup in it's gas tank, it still kept running after much needed repairs.
Once when the check engine light came on when the youngest Lauren had finally inherited it's glory, we explained to her that since the car was getting so old it might just not be worth the money it would take to repair it. She would just have to share my vehicle.
Horrified by the thought, she prayed and prayed,
"Please let the check engine light go off."
And it did.
The very next day.
When Jack left on his mission he said goodbye to the Malibu because he figured for sure that it would not be there when he returned two years later. Jack always said the Malibu liked him best....but then so did Megan and Lauren. Each child has said that the Malibu was special to them...it's expired license plates hanging proudly on their bedroom and dorm room walls.
The Malibu forged on and awaited Jack's return from Guatemala still every bit as useful and stinky.
In fact it lasted all the way until the Christmas holidays when the whole family finally reunited at home for the first time in two and a half years. I think that it was then and only then that it could say it's final goodbye. Fitting since it really had become the kid's car.
And now with them all home and taking a final Sonic run together it gasped it's last breath. Jack said that it barely rolled back onto our street not able to get above 20 miles an hour. When he came to a stop smoke billowed from the tailpipe in a giant white cloud. It wouldn't even start. It just clicked clicked clicked, the engine never turning over again. It sat in front of the house on the street while we decided how best to get rid of it. The insurance had been taken off so there would be no towing it. We called junk yards but their offers seemed shady at best. Being the holidays we just plain put it out of our minds. Occasionally Todd would go out and try to start the engine.
Nothing.
Even the overhead light and power locks failed to work.
It was completely and utterly dead.
Then last week as I was heading out to a photo shoot I see a police car parked in front of the Malibu and the officer looking at it carefully. I kept loading my car praying that there would be no trouble. The police finally pulled up into the driveway and motioned me over.
He was very nice and even apologetic as he reminded me that the vehicle could not stay parked in the street and that an eventual ticket would be 500 dollars. I told him that I would immediately move it in to the driveway. We chatted some more and I realized that there was NO way I could move it into the driveway.....it would not start.....it was dead.
I then asked the officer if I could have until the next day to get it moved. I figured that Todd and I could push it up together into the driveway that night. He said, "sure".
Relieved that we were not getting a ticket I called Todd and told him that we had to move it that same night.
He said that he didn't think that the two of us could both move and steer it up the slightly uphill driveway. I bet him that we could since I consider myself freakishly strong for a woman..... at least for the short haul. I have been on the other side of plenty of heavy objects holding my own in moving. He still doubted so I made a bet on it. A sonic drink was riding on my ability to get that car up on the driveway without outside help.
Just Todd and I.
I even went outside praying that it would start and I could move it.
Nothing.
I put it into neutral and made a test run by pushing it about three feet by myself.
I was smug and could already taste my diet coke with cranberry and extra extra ice.
Todd came home and we went out in the dark to push. He kept reminding me that he thought that it wouldn't work. He put the Malibu in neutral and held on to the steering wheel pushing from the front door while I pushed from the back.
Nothing.
It would not budge. Not even an inch.
NOT EVEN AN INCH.....
How could this be?
Desperate to go to bed that night without worry of a police officer knocking at my door I came up with the brilliant idea to try and jump start it with the van.
Todd shook his head with more displeasure but knew that it was better to just humor me on this one. I really don't like interaction with the police. (story for another day) ((dang it there I go again))
We hooked up the two vehicles....
Nothing.
Not a single sound....not even the click click click.
We both sat in our respectable vehicles discouraged.
Todd unhooked the cables and closed the hoods of both vehicles. As I sat in the van despondent and aware that I might actually lose the bet,.....
a miracle happened.
The headlights of the Malibu turned on.
By themselves.
Astonished Todd sat down in the drivers seat and turned the key.
The engine started up without a single sputter.
We could not believe our eyes and ears.
I told Todd to hurry and pull the Malibu into the driveway.
He did and as it came to a stop a huge thick white cloud of smoke billowed from it's tail pipe.
It was the Malibu's goodbye.
The final gift of service to the Winn family.
I will never forget it.
Goodbye my four wheeled friend.
You were faithful and true to the end.
From all of us Winn's
We will miss you.

I'd Write It in the Sky

2011-02-14T15:31:00.000-08:00

This is Mr. T and I married less than a year.
Today is a special day for us because 28 years ago today he asked me to marry him.
There are no pictures of that.
There was no big production number.
It was simple, sweet and private.
Mr. T actually doesn't really like to talk about it.
He has seen the pictures or TV shows where there is an elaborate and unique way that someone was asked to marry......
Flowers, candlelight,
balloons,
sky writers,
sporting event big screens,
people in costumes,
on live TV,
flash mobs,
choreographed dances....
He often says that he feels bad that it was so simple and he just didn't know that it was suppose to be fancy like that.....
That he thinks I was gypped.
What do I say back to that?
How do you tell someone that.....
who they are and how they treat you
is already like..
fireworks on the fourth of July,
millions of red roses,
a lifetime supply of chocolate,
the finest gourmet meal,
the sweetest poetry,
the finest choreographed dance,
the most melodic love song, and
the winning the largest jackpot of all.
You could not honor me more with anything of monetary value than the way you have treated me from the moment we met.
And if I could afford to hire a plane to write this post in the sky I would.
(Do you think that they charge by the letter?)
Thank you for asking me to marry you Mr. T.
Saying yes to you was the best decision I have ever made.

P.S. This is the first year we have decided to ABSOLUTELY spend NO money on gifts for each other. That really we already have everything that we need.
But I couldn't resist a little
MEATLOVE!

Happy Valentines Day everyone. Sending a little love your way too!

The Miracle of The Malibu

2011-02-11T14:27:00.000-08:00

I started this post last week.
I thought that it would be clever in verse form.
A light hearted attempt to say goodbye to a piece of Winn history
trying to not be too attached or sentimental to an inanimate object.
The problem was I kept struggling with it.....
(The post NOT the car)
So okay I am no Emily Dickinson...... but schmaltzy rhyme has always come pretty easy.
I got this far.....

O Malibu, O Malibu...
Is it really time to say adieu?
You been a trusty faithful friend.
Hard to believe the time must end.
Purchased back in 96
You seen your share of driving tricks.
Three teenagers learned behind your wheel.
To pilot you with an even keel.
They tested you to every limit,
Wrecked 3 times while they were in it.
The other times you were alone
In parking lots by drivers unknown.
Other mishaps you endured
And that is when I realized that I could not get into the groove.
Yikes! Blogger Block!!
Most of my posts flow out like some random leak in a pipe.
I never know exactly what direction it will take or whether it will be a slow leak or a gusher.
This was a complete blockage.
AND NOW I KNOW WHY!!
and it is because of what happened last night
THE MIRACLE OF THE MALIBU!!
This can not be told by a silly rhyming verse.
This can not be just jotted down like a goofy story.
This needs to be written carefully and with the respect it deserves, retold and passed down from one generation to the next...
Perhaps whispered in a fireside circle while you shine a flashlight under your face.
It will also take more than one post to fully appreciate so for the first time this will be a two chapter post my friends.
Chapter One: The history of the beloved "Smellabu"
Chapter Two: The Miracle
I hope that it will come to have as much meaning for you as it did for me dear reader.
Till we meet again.....soon!

Early Bloomer

2011-02-08T00:14:00.000-08:00

The early bloomer...
This flower just had to be first.
I come from a long line of people who have to be first.
Not like Olympic medalist or anything like that.
(unless you count my mom who had to be Valedictorian of her high school or else she would have exploded....a definite post for another day.)
But first in line.
And by saying that certain members of my family need to be in the front of the line like other people need oxygen,
I don't mean Mr. T.
Mr. T would have gone down with the Titanic because he would have held the door for everyone running out screaming, saying...."after you"
But I know a couple of people in my extended family that would have been first on the very first life boat.
It's a skill which requires one of two things.
either
A. You get somewhere really really insanely early
or
B. You learn the fine art of wheedling your way through a crowd going unnoticed...well mostly.
My father is a champion at both.
Take Option A:
If for instance you need to give him a ride to the airport, which by the way has to be at the very least 2 hours before the scheduled flight, and you ask him what time you need to pick him up, he will say very casually and as if it's no big deal....."Oh I guess 7:00 will give us enough time to get there.
At 6:30 he will start looking out the window.
6:45 he will start pacing around the door area
and by 6:55 he will be in the driveway as you pull up satisfied with your 5 minute cushion with the look that says,
"Finally"!
I have learned to just set my watch to JDL standard time and subtract 15 minutes from any aforementioned time.
Option B:
He is by far one of the best wheedlers and darters in a crowd that I have ever had the pleasure of trying to follow. I spent my life hearing my mom say, "Now where is your father?" whilst in large crowds. We would scan the area and worry until minutes later we would see him at the front of the crowd wildly waving his arms in a motion for us to walk past all of the other people to join him in the front. The angry looks as we skulked by were a priceless memory of growing up. It didn't ever bother Dad. He always said that they should of paid more attention and found a place up front like he did.
I really believe that it is in the DNA.
One of my kids who shall remain nameless was a carbon copy. I first noticed her skills while waiting for the school bus with the other neighborhood children. The mothers and kids would all stand at the end of our driveway where the bus made it's pickup for our street. Raar (oops) would be having fun talking and laughing and sweet as you please until the big yellow bus rolled up.
Then it was on.
She would race to the front of the bus as the big doors swung open, knocking anyone out of the way that got in the way,
I would talk to her about it and she would acknowledge it's danger but darn it if the next morning she would forget all our etiquette discussions and make her way to the front of the line.
As for me?
Well let's just say that Mr. T gets a little frustrated trying to keep up with me sometimes.
I may look slow...
But if their is a line....
Stay out of my way and no one will get hurt.

Tree Tale

2011-01-30T21:36:00.000-08:00

Before I start my story....
I have to say one thing about the new header.....
(blog talk for that picture of me at the top....yea I know....I am so high tech)
I NEVER MEANT FOR IT TO BE THAT BIG!
I am still learning so don't let it scare you whilst I figure it all out.
But back to my story
which isn't really a story but more of an amusing anecdote with a question for you.
We have a fig tree in our backyard.
It came to us via a good friend I will call DH.
She is a woman of high energy and a green thumb.
And lucky for me she likes to move her plants around a lot and I have been the lucky beneficiary of her beautiful plant left overs.
The fig tree sat in her back yard for a few years and then dug up and offered to me.
If you have been following my little blog experiment you might remember that I have a brown thumb.
I usually don't invest much in the living things outside my house.
It just makes it sadder when it is time for them to be yanked out of the dirt.
But a free plant?
Hope springs eternal.
It was just barely bigger than the size of the back of the van with one of the bench seats removed but with a few snips of the pruning shears we fit it in and brought it to it's new home.
We planted it by the back fence.
And by golly it grew,
and grew
and grew.

Despite my worst efforts it grew from about 4 feet to over 20.
A thing of beauty.
And the figs so plentiful and big that my tree is a favorite spot for all sorts of creatures.

And I fell in love with it.
A plant that was both beautiful and unstoppable even being in my backyard.
But that's not the story....
Every winter the tree loses it's figs and leaves and green glory.
All tall and bare and twiggy with only the promise of the huge green leaves returning in the spring
And yet I am still in love.
My backyard fence sharing neighbor not so much.
At least that's what I suspect.
I've never really asked.
She, unlike me, spends hours and hours in her backyard making sure it is all just so.
Mr. T trimmed the barren fig tree last week and one of it's branches fell over the fence into their backyard.
It was about 2 feet long and a couple of inches in diameter.
Mr. T ever the thoughtful neighbor was going to walk around the corner to their street after he was finished and ask to enter their yard to retrieve the stray branch.
Only problem is that by the time he had finished his chores he had forgotten all about it.
And would have probably never remembered until just the other day walked out
to the front yard and found
sitting where the trash cans are usually put.
One freshly cut fig tree branch about 2 feet long and a couple of inches in diameter.
Now of course we can't be sure....
But was that a message?

No parking stopping or standing ANYTIME!

2011-01-27T16:11:00.000-08:00

I had to take a picture of this sign the minute I saw it.
Thank heavens for my trusty iphone.
(actually I have a pocket size Nikon I keep in my purse as a back up camera....yes I am a complete and utter photo nerd)
I understand the no parking part....
The stopping? I don't like it but I guess that's ok....
But NO STANDING?
That seems to violate a common liberty.
Isn't standing on a public street on a public sidewalk a right protected by the constitution?
I think I may have found a loophole though.
What about sitting but constantly flailing around?
It might just be worth a second trip over there.
But then again maybe I should just mind my own p's and q's.
I seem to have turned into the type of "older" person who just blurts out weird statements of fact.
I remember about 10 years ago I approached a sister in the ward who had been storing food storage in her garage after we had made a food order as a group.
I needed to ask a question about what was still left in her garage.
Now in her defense she had just finished with what looked like a pretty chaotic youth activity and although it was over she probably needed that all important "decompression" time that is vital with active service in the church,
But I thought I would just ask if there were any lids or cans, that came with the order.
Her eyes narrowed as she looked into mine, threw up her arms and yelled,
"I'M NOT THE PERSON TO ASK THAT QUESTION TO!"
I backed off slowly a little shocked by the answer.

Fast forward to this morning where I received a phone call from a number I didn't recognize.
I should have just not answered,
but with all my kids away from home I have this fear that it is them calling from somewhere, possibly crying, hurt or bleeding using someone else's phone,
so let's just say I am ripe for the picking for ring ring ring of the marketing masses.
Once they begin their spiel there is not much time to cut in and I continue to fight the manners and etiquette phase of my youth about not ever hanging up on someone, so as she assured me that this call was NOT about selling me anything.....yeah right......she wanted to ask me some questions about my water supply.
The first thing that came to my head other than I do not want to talk to you was.....
I know nothing about my water supply other than you turn a knob and it goes on, you turn it the other way and it goes off.
And so I ended up simply saying in my best firm authoratative voice,
"I"M NOT THE PERSON TO ASK THAT QUESTION TO!"
and guess what?
It worked.

Big Bro

2011-01-20T19:00:00.000-08:00

I don't think I have ever blogged about my older brother.
But that's him in the picture.
Standing to the left of Miss America
Yeah THE Miss America 2011 (it's not often I get the chance to do any name dropping)
But that's big bro.
He has a kinda modern day midas touch.
Sometimes it seems like he is one of the luckiest guys ever.
But I don't think that's it.
You want to know what I think?
Lean in a little closer and I will tell you his secret....
Big Bro is without a doubt THE most optimistic person I have EVER met.
Almost pathologically so.
For instance,
Accident on an ATV and his jaw wired shut for weeks?
Best thing that ever happened to him.
That's when he discovered a diet to further tone and condition his body.
Change in employment?
Couldn't be a better time for it. He was able to participate on a bike racing team.
Moving to a new house leaving behind their old home?
This is the BEST house ever.
It seems like by always looking at the bright side of life..
good things just seem to happen.
Even when things get tough.
I use to poke fun at it a little being the natural pessimist with a wee touch of sarcasm that I am.
But the more years I am on this spinning orb,
the more I admire it.
Not sure I can completely adopt it,
but I think he might be on to something.
So whether it's the top of a mountain you just climbed,
a professional bike race you just finished,
a new company you are in charge of,
or you just happen to be standing by Miss America....
Here's looking at you Big Bro.

Starting Over....

2011-01-19T13:12:00.000-08:00

I'm back.
Well at least whatever "I" am now is back.
Which is in part,
what explains my absence.
I thought when I reached this stage of life there would be
a transition.
From active mom to long distance mom,
from active commander in chief to a nice cushy mother desk job
away from the real action,
That all of the skills and knowledge I had collected would be channeled
into this change
I thought that there would just be an "adjustment" period
and then life would smooth itself out
as it usually does.
But it's not going as planned.
This is not a transition but an ending and then another beginning.
And let's face it
Beginnings and endings stink.
It's really the middle of things that contains the very best life
has to offer.
I have to start all over again like some life sized game of Sorry.
SOOOOOORRY!
You are not you...
Even grocery shopping has changed.
My mom tells the story of when her last chick, Baby Davey left the
nest and she went to the store
she stood in the Spaghettios aisle
and cried because she always kept it in bulk for the little buggar.
No I am not crying at my local Kroger.......
but I wandered around
the store passing by all the usual choices.
By the time I reached the last aisle my cart contained enough food
for prisoner of war type rations.
It dawned on me that in the last 24 years I have really only shopped
for my kids,
Don't get me wrong, Mr. T and I still ate
as evidenced by our expanding waistlines
but
we were really only eating "their" food as it turns out.
I have no idea what to feed just "us"
I have never purchased a "bunch" of bananas that only included 3.
(Todd get's the extra in case you were wondering)
I know every favorite food of my three kiddies
but have forgotten what Mr. T and I liked.
A skill that I had previously excelled at but no longer feel confident in.
So I have not blogged lately because I am trying to start all over.
And believe me...
It isn't easy.
To make myself feel a little better today I purchased a 6 dollar bag
of real sea salt.
It's pink and pretty and I would NEVER have done that when the kids
lived here.
So ready or not...
here I go.
Me...
(P.S. The picture is one that Jack took. He thought it was so funny that I would buy a magic bloody knife with my groceries. But hey it was half off and you can NEVER have enough of those. Also take note of the hostess cakes, double stuff oreos and kolaches....that would be Jack's favorites...not mine! Not that I haven't been known to take the tops off of two of them and smash them together to make a quadruple stuff oreo occasionally, but again, not MINE!)

Road Trip Revisited: A Jacktorial.

2010-11-30T12:26:00.000-08:00

I had been anticipating this trip for awhile.

Two years to be exact.

The first time we would be together as a family.

The Jack road trip.

So it was only fitting that we picked up a little hitchhiker on our first day.

He was a quiet yet happy passenger and fittingly the name on his cap read, "Jack"

Hope you enjoy his journey.

The Empty Nest revisited

2010-11-17T17:16:00.000-08:00

Remember how I said I had an empty nest?
Well not any more because it's a boy!
Not a baby but a full grown adult boy!
Of course with every nest change comes adjustments.
Like:

I don't get to drive anymore. Whenever I go to get into "my" car someone is already in the drivers seat.

My daily sonic bill has doubled.

He corrects my Spanish pronunciation constantly which you would think would not be a problem since we are in an English speaking country, but hey, I live close to the border. It happens more than you would think. Sometimes he even chortles while he does it.
Chortling might possibly be banned in my nest soon.

He drinks straight out of the jug. He says that he doesn't. He says that he is "water falling" the drink and that is way different than drinking out of the container.

He does it a lot...

I have to actually cook again. And I get talked into things like this Ghosts in a Graveyard. By the way it was nasty. Don't try this at home.

He takes pictures of me with his iphone. Candid pictures where I can't try and elongate my neck and suck in my stomach. Pictures where I am not wearing make up. Pictures that make me realize that all cameras should be banned with the exception of mine...oh and mirrors while we are on the subject.

He tells me that my phone is "weak sauce" and he loads all these fun applications to show how much better his phone is than mine. Today's app was a scanner that scans bar codes and tells you the price. He keeps asking me what I paid for things, then scans it and tells me I paid too much. He nags at me trying to make me buy one by telling me that if I do that we can talk "face to face" with the video camera capability. He promises me that he will talk like that to me all the time when he leaves the nest.....yeah right.
He leaves his belongings EVERYWHERE and then in a panic needs me to find them.
He tries to pop me with the kitchen towels.
He leaves cups everywhere in the house (even though I am not sure why he needs those cups and glasses with his patented "waterfall" method of drinking)
So am I ready to go back to this?

NO WAY!

Do you see that smile on my face?

Or this one?

or this one?

This is one of the kindest, sweetest, caring. loving, and fun birds to return to a nest,

(even with the "water falling")

And I am enjoying every minute of it.

Take that Mr. Cute Art Guy.....

2010-11-16T16:36:00.000-08:00

Did I ever tell you about the time I failed my art class?

Well fail is a strong word I guess,

the teacher was kind and just entered it into the records as an

"unofficial withdrawal"

Which is true. I never intended for it to be official and I definitely would call it a case of withdrawing which is ironic since the class was DRAWING 101.

It was my freshman year at BYU and I was eager to find out what I was really good at.

I have artists in my family...my uncle, my mom, my sister....I am sure that there are more.

I just knew that if I took this class I would be able to join their ranks.

Possibly a great artist someday.

When you are 18 you have an unlimited supply of "what if's" to explore.

I loved buying the paper, charcoal pencils and kneadable erasers down in the basement of the bookstore. It was just a matter of time before I would blossom into other mediums.

I went to the class and set up my easel with all my new supplies particularly enjoying the eraser that reminded me of a gray silly putty. There was a very cute guy at the easel next to mine with a wonderful head of dark curly hair and a really great smile....

This class was promising.

There sat piled in front of us a still life.

I can't remember what it was but it was not colorful or interesting.

Nothing that I would ever choose to draw.

The teacher talked about the light and shadows and showed us different techniques.

And then it was our turn to apply our charcoal to the paper.

I sketched and erased and sketched and erased.

It was no use. The objects I drew were flat and one dimensional.

I tried to look for the light and shadow that everyone kept talking about but I just didn't get it.

I spent a lot of time staring at the object to see what was so obvious to everyone else in the room.

I just didn't see anything except the object as a whole.

Mr Cute Art Guy as I affectionately called him did see what he needed to.

His drawings even from the beginning looked like they could come off the page and rest in your hands.

He would sometimes try and tell me what to look for but when I would try to apply the knowledge there was something that was missing in the connection between my brain and my hand.

I attended all semester and sat next to Mr. Cute Art Guy watching his pictures come to life while mine remained frustrated scribbling.

I often felt that he looked over when I wasn't watching and shook his head with pity.

As cute as he was I was starting to despise him for his ease and talent.

I dreaded the twice weekly chore of taking the next group of stuff piled on the table and making it come alive. I couldn't believe that not an ounce of the artistic gene had filtered down to me.

Finals week came with all of the stresses that seem to overwhelm a young college student and make them feel as if their life is truly harder than everyone else's.

There was of course no cramming for the drawing exam ahead of me but I dreaded it nonetheless.

I walked into class and took my place at the easel next to Mr. Cute Art Guy and exchanged our usual pleasantries.

The teacher lifted up the sheet which covered the still life which was to be our final test of our drawing skills or the lack thereof.

I looked at that pile of junk for about 15 minutes while my classmates sketched away.

Mr. Cute Art Guy's drawing was already shaping up to be a masterpiece worthy of hanging in a museum or at the very least on his mothers refridgerator.

And that's when it happened.

I stood up and walked out.

Clutching only my backpack and kneadable eraser in my fist.

And I felt free.

Free that is until my report card and grade point average reflected my "stand for liberty" moment. I could have literally drawn a stick figure on the paper defiantly waving a pencil and erase in hand cursing the light and the shadows and I would have passed the class.

But I didn't.

And instead of the F that I probably should have earned I got a UW.

Ironically I found my passion.

I can't draw anything but I know about light and shadow and what makes a good picture.

It has become almost an obsession.

I wish I had known which was the right class for me to take.

I am sure that I could have shot circles around Mr. Cute Art Guy.

P.S. All of these photos are from my road trip to Utah I took in June. I am going again this week. I am taking a friend with me. Actually it is the pigs friend. Look for the photos that are sure to follow. I can't wait to show you.

"What's the big deal about THAT"

2010-11-04T14:45:00.000-07:00

Memories rarely stick before you are four or five.
Possibly some hazy pictures in your mind, but nothing really detailed.
At least not for me.
But I have one memory that is pretty crystal clear from when I was five.
I had just returned home from kindergarten.
I had had a long morning trying to master the skills of not only learning but trying to nap on a small square of carpet so that I could someday be the nap monitor who had the coveted responsibility of walking around monitoring the nappers.
Did I mention I HATED naps when I was five?
Did I mention that I have finally outgrown that phase?
Anyhoo,
As I arrived at my house, I found it abuzz with excitement.
My mom had been gone for a couple of days and now finally she was back.
That at least seemed like good news.
I immediately wanted her attention but she seemed so preoccupied.
She led me into her bedroom and up to the edge of a giant white basket like thing.
She smiled widely as I peered over the edge.
And this is what I saw....

I stared for a minute or two and thought,
"What's the big deal about that?"
And I made my way to the kitchen for a snack.
I did NOT have a good feeling about the new changes.
As time went on I tried to adapt to the new rip in the fabric of the family.
No longer the baby of the family, I attempted to adjust to my new role as the middle child.

My older sister Precious thought he was wonderful.
She toted him around on her hip like he was a big ole sack of gold.
She changed his diaper and played with him on the floor.
She found his beloved "pa" when it was lost and put him to sleep in his crib.
Her "helpful older sister" routine raised her cachet in the family pecking order,
while I remained aloof and a self imposed "outsider".
You can see her adoring look in this photo. Notice me front and center in the photo.
(Really I mean it....my inner child screams out for you to notice me)
As time passed, "what's the big deal about that" who was later named "Pesky David", and I formed our own special sort of relationship.

He would be allowed to stay but I remained cautiously aloof.

See my attempted half-smile and sisterly pat on the back from a safe distance?

I took note of the fact that since he was the baby of the family.

He routinely had the plum assignments like putting the star on top of the felt advent calendar on Christmas Eve,

Not to worry though, I waited until no one was looking and pulled it off and stuck it back on properly.

And he was okay sometimes when there was a lack of anyone else to play with like on family vacations.

Although our playing resembled fighting much of the time and did usually end in someone yelling for the ultimate referee...

"MOM, did you see what he just did?"

He was a child with no "personal space" and liked to give wet sloppy kisses.

Plus who wears a pirate hat with a plaid suit?

I struggled to smile for this picture and even he couldn't face the camera with open eyes.

Ignoring him as teenager became even easier as "ignoring" is a competitive sport in those days.

His peskiness though seemed to intensify with that and he would often tell me that when he was a grown-up he was going to get married and have 6 sons,

and they would all be just like him,

and he would send them to live with me every summer.

Yeah right, I said, As if I will give you my address then anyway.

Going away for four years of college and marriage did seem to mellow the rivalry and he started to seem not quite as pesky as I had remembered and we could often "play nice" long enough to take a decent picture or two.

We grew.

We both started our own families.

We lived in different states.

We visited each other once in awhile....

And along the way, discovered something very interesting....

and special.

"what's the big deal about that"

"pesky David"

was pretty alright as brothers go.

In fact at times he has been downright amazing.

And our relationship has been as this picture suggests...a lifesaver.

We laugh at the same jokes,

We share similar values,

We share a rich tapestry of memories,

and we have each others back.

So I guess as it turns out,

My five year old self was wrong, at least about one thing...

David..

You are a big deal.

Happy Birthday Baby Davey.

I love you.

I couldn't resist....My favorite cemetary.

2010-10-30T09:20:00.000-07:00

No I am not finished with my Guatemala adventure.

But I just couldn't resist.

It has been killing me to not post about my favorite holiday....

HALLOWEEN!

And some of my favorite pictures of

GRAVEYARDS!

And in particular my favorite graveyard of all

GLENWOOD CEMETARY IN PARK CITY!

and tell a few spooky stories as well.

So without further adieu

and against what I said that I would do.
Let the haunting begin.

First post?

The glamor shots from my most recent graveyard excursion:

The entrance. Notice my Dad who has taken to posing in peculiar ways lately. Not sure of it's origin.

A close up on the looks of the family members reacting to Dad's new habit.

How beautiful can one graveyard get?

Who wouldn't want to rest in peace here?

The view from inside....well not ALL the way inside if you know what I mean. Muah haha hahaha!
Later today...
The residents of Glenwood speak from beyond.
The stories behind the tombstones.

McDonalds?

2010-10-27T19:30:00.000-07:00

We woke up early to be at the airport in true Lauck fashion
Two hours early....

Unfortunately the airport operated in Guatemala fashion; what's the rush?
We were searched at the security checkpoint with thoroughness.
I would venture to say that the woman who conducted mine pat down now knows me better than most people. They looked through our bag and really scrutinized my anitbacterial gel that hangs on a carabinner. What were they looking for you ask....
weapons?
No not likely. There were so many automatic weapons and machetes that I lost count.
Drugs?
No I don't think that they were worried about that since most prescription medications that we have in the states can be purchased over the counter and at a very low cost.
Ancient artifacts?
Nope. It seems like every person there has something that they have found in the ground around their house.
Fruit?
YES! And in particular seeds. They are extremely protective of the lush and beautiful vegetation in their area and even though we were just flying to the capital in their own country it was against the law with severe penalties. It is a good thing that I HATE gardening and cannot grow anything but weeds at my house.
We arrived back at the capital at about 9 am and checked into the Barcelo again. The hotels there are very service orientated and there is no goofy rule about waiting for 1 pm to check in to our room.

A bed never looked so good and we all took advantage of a morning nap.
Waking refreshed and hungry, we decided to walk over to the local McDonalds just down the street.
I was actually looking forward to being in a place that seemed the same as home.
I knew that McDonalds would not let me down.

Life size Ronald McDonald outside the front door?.....check.

Menu board with all my favorite Mcitems?...check.
Employees busy working in brightly colored uniforms?....check

Super-sized fries and burgers served in a tackily decorated environment?......check.

A special armed security detail with 8 men in suits guarding all the exits and scanning the room for trouble....
WAIT!!
This is not MY McDonalds....
Seriously I would show you a picture of them surrounding the building but I was too scared that if I took one I would be shot.
I was sitting there patiently waiting for my food when appear 8 men in nice suits with ear pieces in their ears like you see in the movies about the President and the Secret Service. They scanned the room looking at everyone and every door like their life depended on it. The photographer in me was dying to take a picture of it. The scaredy cat mother in me stopped her. I tried to figure out who the important VIP was at the counter, but no one really stuck out.
After about 10 minutes half of them left the building while the other half ordered some food and sat down at the table next to us.
While they were distracted with their Big Macs I took a sneaky photo.

See it looks like I am taking a picture of Todd eating a piece of cheesecake.
Oh and did I tell you they sold CHEESECAKE on china plates?
Well they did and for the record the sauce on my Big Mac was not the same as in the states.
So much for feeling at home.

We took a taxi to visit some of Jack's converts in the capital.
Even though the roads are built like someone dumped out a bowl of spaghetti there are some beautiful buildings and fountains and really unique pieces of art. There was always something interesting to see whizzing past my taxi window. Jack always sat up front talking to the taxi driver. One conversation was a discussion about the first vision. Even with my little mastery of the Spanish language I could tell what he was saying.
We visited with one of the people that I was most excited to see.
Ana Garcia.
Ana was a older woman who was so prepared by the spirit for Jack to contact.
She had been intimidated by the missionaries who had come to her door for the years before but as she told us when Elder Winn and his companion knocked on the door she knew that it was time to let them in.
She hugged me tightly and told me thank you for sending my son to Guatemala and that to her he was an angel sent from God. I listened as she spoke hoping that Jack could translate. The only problem is that she never paused to let him do it. She was talking so quickly and with such feeling that neither Jack nor I wanted to interrupt her. The first few minutes I tried to concentrate and figure it out with my limited skills. There was no way I could follow the conversation. I tried to just look in her eyes and let it wash over me.
And then it happened.
I don't know what she was saying but the spirit washed over me and I knew that she was testifying of the gospel of Jesus Christ. It was a strong heart pounding feeling in my chest. I started to cry. I did not even know what she was saying but it no longer mattered. I knew WHAT the holy ghost was conveying. It was an amazing experience. I tried to convey to her through Jack the love that I felt for her and the bond that was formed. She nodded her head and we both knew.

It is her dream to visit the states someday during General Conference weekend so that she can attend the Salt Lake Temple and see the prophet speak. I am praying that she gets her wish.

While we were there visiting there was a knock on the door.

And who was there to visit her?

THE MISSIONARIES!!

It was so good to know that the work that Jack started was being continued and cared for by the next set. The work goes on.

What a wonderful thing to be a part of it.

Beautiful San Jose Peten

2010-10-26T22:06:00.000-07:00

What is a Sunday afternoon without a fresh coconut to drink ......

And the most beautiful view of Lake Itza in San Jose.
Our wonderful driver Alfonso and his son who owned the vehicle, Eric, brought us up to this view point and provided us with the wonderful fresh coconuts.

After the tamale dinner I didn't know where I could find the room for more.
The coconut held an amazingly large amount of liquid.
You could tell how proud they were of their city and we just sat for awhile admiring the view.

Yes that is a dragon fly in the picture and not an airplane.
We left the scenic lookout to go and visit the Ax Family or the Family Ax as they say it in Guatemala.
Jack had the privilege of teaching and baptizing them in the first few months of his mission.
One of my most favorite pictures he sent home is of him baptizing a member of their family.

I knew that they lived in very humble circumstances.
Jack always told us that even though they didn't have much, how happy they were....
and he was right.
Even though their home was nothing more than stick walls and a tin roof overhead they were full of smiles and laughter. The children played on dirt floors and there were only two places in their two room house to sit.
One was a hammock and the other a plastic lawn chair.
I was escorted to the hammock to sit.
A decision that I would soon regret when it came time to try and stand up.

The children were so sweet and had smiles that stretched from ear to ear.
All except the youngest who looked at me with a healthy dose of suspicion.

We brought some little toys and candy and they seemed excited to receive them.
The biggest attraction was my digital camera and my favorite model was the little boy Danielo.
He kept asking me to take his picture again and again and then he would ask to look at it on the little screen. It would make him giggle and smile even more.

He was so joyful.

It was truly a pleasure to be in their home.
Now getting out of the hammock gracefully in a dress was another matter all together.
We visited another couple of Jack's converts and then called it a day.
We had another early morning wake up call to fly back to the capital in the morning.
Peten
The place Jack loved the most on his mission truly lived up to his description.
We ended the day watching the sunset from the lake by our hotel.

What a beautiful country.

Missionaries and Tamales

2010-10-26T15:12:00.000-07:00

After the double header of Mayan ruins on Saturday, I was looking forward to the fact that the Sabbath is a day of rest.

We got to sleep in until 8:30 which after the last three days was a real treat.

Our trusty taxi driver and friend Alfonso was waiting to take us into Santa Elena to the church building to watch the morning session of General Conference.

General Conference weekend in April and October are my favorite of the year. For two days we get to sit in the comfort of our homes listening to the Prophet of our church and the 12 apostles. Their talks are always well spoken and profound in my life and I feel recharged by the spirit that washes over me. My home feels more sacred and peaceful and the effects linger for days and days.

This year would be different because I was not home.

But I will remember it as a very special experience.

I had the distinct honor of watching it with a roomful of the most amazing young men, clad in white shirts and ties with black tags on their chest bearing the name of the Savior.

When I first arrived they were a little subdued and quiet but still very polite. Each one would look me in the eye as I introduced myself. I thought about each ones mother and fought the urge to hug them. I wanted to take picture after picture of their warm smiles and the way their faces lit up when they would see each other. They are all in companionships of two in the Peten areas, but on conference weekend they get together from miles around to watch General Conference together. There is a feeling of a special brotherhood that exists between them.

I was worried that Jack would feel different since he was there with his parents so I hung back a little wanting to just be a fly on the wall and observe. The names on their tags were familiar to me. Mothers who I have been communicating online with, sharing any news or photos of "our boys". Mothers who I have grown as close as sisters with and have been a lifeline when I was anxious or sad. Mothers who knew just how I felt the last two years, who understood the sacrifice. Sometimes I would blurt out to the elder standing in front of me, "I know your mother..." The response back was always both sweet and a little puzzled. "That's great", they would say. I think they were patronizing me a bit not really understanding with a 20 year old male brain what it meant to us mothers at home....out connection to each other.

We settled into a long sunlit room to watch the conference together. It was a little odd to be the only female in a room full of priesthood holders. I felt a little like an interloper.

When I pulled out my big bag of candy and started to pass it around one of the elders blurted out,

"American candy! I love you!"

I felt a little less like an outsider, glad to have packed the huge bag. Grateful to have something to offer.

We watched the conference together and I felt the spirit strongly.

Watching the prophet's face filled with light and love I felt like I was not so far away from home anymore.

I wondered if the elders in the room shared a similar feeling.

At any given time during the two hours I saw two sides.

These young men no older than 21 would be joking during the songs or whispering to each other.

But when the prophet or apostles spoke the level of concentration and focus was amazing.

They would sit quietly and intently listening, taking notes and pondering the words.

I felt sheepish that I didn't even have a pen or paper to record my feelings.

After the conference was over I asked them all if I could take a group picture for their mothers.

They all agreed.

Herding them into one place though was like putting worms in a can and I laughed at how quickly they changed from boy to man and back to boy again.

I counted it a great privilege and pleasure to worship with such a wonderful group of young men.

After the conference we headed to the house of Luki and Matias for a very special meal prepared in our honor. When Jack had wrote home he never complained about anything except...

The tamales.

Jack had written home once and described them as full of grisly chicken and as big as your forearm.

They are considered a special occasion food and as a missionary Jack had eaten his fair share of them.

Todd had made the mistake of saying in his letters that he would like to try one.

Well Jack being Jack made sure that it would be a reality.

Only problem is that being a package deal as husband and wife, it also had to include me.

I was nervous since I had been warned not to eat anything in the members home.

But I knew that no matter what I would have to eat what was placed before me.

When we arrived at Lukis house we were greeted so warmly and with so many smiles that I almost forgot the meal ahead.

But Luki did not. She and her cook were busy preparing their beautiful plates of tamales wrapped in banana leaves.

That is Luki laughing in the background because she knew that Jack did not like tamales.

The tamale was everything Jack described in his emails. It was made from a thick white corn paste and in the middle was a piece of chicken. Not pieces of chicken meat cut up but a piece, bones and all, of chicken. I had a hard time recognizing which piece was hidden in mine. I am use to wings and thighs and drumsticks but this was one I had not encountered before. I found that a pinch of salt from the communal salt bowl (they don't use salt shakers and do not have pepper at all) and my glass of Coke helped immensely. At one point I came to a round dark object inside the tamale. I waited until no one in their family was looking and flipped it on to Jack's plate. I whispered, "What is that?" "It's a prune" he answered as he popped it into his mouth.

Dang it, I thought. That is something that I would have enjoyed!

Luki's husband Matias finished three tamales while we daintily ate our one.

Luki asked Jack if we wanted another.

She knew that Jack didn't really like them

and I was just a woman, but

Todd, the tall big man, would probably still be hungry.

We whispered in English finally glad for the language barrier between us and debated whether Todd should eat another one.

"Take one for the team", Jack and I said.

He kindly accepted another tamale on his plate.

What a good man he is....

Dessert was a beautiful Tres Leches cake with fruit swirled in circular patterns.

I was so touched that this family were so giving and loving to share their special feast with us even though our American palates were so unrefined.

We gathered for pictures after the meal.

I thanked Luki through my interpreter Jack for taking such good care of my son.

I fought back tears and hugged her.

I asked them if there was a way that I could send them a copy of the photograph in the mail.

They did not have an address.

They said to just bring a copy with us when we come back.

Tikal Tikal Tikal

2010-10-26T13:28:00.000-07:00

After a wonderfully exhausting morning at Yaxha we headed for Tikal about an hour and a half away.
I was grateful for the chance to just sit and rest from all the climbing and monkey keep away.
The rocky road combined with our exhaustion now became a lullaby urging us to take a well deserved nap.
Jack sat next to me his head bobbing against the glass straining to find a comfortable position.
I watched it for awhile until it dawned on me that I was his mother.
I laid my coat on my lap and told him to stretch out and lay his head down for a few zzz's
He seemed grateful as I scratched his head while he slept.
I had forgotten how good it was to be able to take care of him again.

Two years ago, I had to work hard to let go of taking care of his temporal needs and focus on being a support from a thousand miles away, writing only once a week, calling just 4 precious times, going against everything I knew how to do as a mother.
I had almost forgotten that I could now do that again.
My legs were numb from the mornings hike and keeping them still underneath his head.
I didn't care.
I was his mother again and enjoying getting back from the two year break.
We reached Tikal around lunch time and decided that we didn't want to waste the daylight by eating at the restaurant there so we purchased soft drinks, cookies and pringles to sustain us.
We had fun buying Jack things that he had denied himself on his mission because of costs.

He would always say that it cost too much but we told him it was worth it.
We found a semi shady place to sit down and eat. My back was killing me from the morning and so I sat on the ground so I could have something behind me.
That's when I saw THE ant.

I had seen these ants the day before at Petencito Zoo and was amazed.
They are leaf cutter ants and they are EVERYWHERE in Peten. You cannot walk 20 feet without coming across or almost stepping on a line of them.
They amazed me with their capacity to carry objects much larger than themselves.
I noticed as I sat eating my lunch that they were carrying away Pringle crumbs while we ate.

There was one ant in particular that had bitten off a little more than he could chew or carry.
Having a sore back myself I felt a kinship with the little guy as he struggled and strained under his heavy load.

I whispered him to just put it down (I know that's what I would do) and I even put a smaller crumb in front him to entice him to give up.
He just kept trying and trying, attacking the piece from every angle.
At one point I thought he had finally seen the folly of his ways as he left the chip crumb and walked off.
Nope.
He had gone to get an ant friend.
I raised my hand to Jack as he helped me get back on my feet to climb yet another set of stairs.
Tikal was much more "touristy" than Yaxha and I saw my first "gringo" of my trip.
It somehow made me feel a little more at ease and I started to enjoy the beautiful ruins.
I had been reserving my strength all day to make sure that I could climb to the top of the highest ruin available. It was not as bad as I thought and said a little thank you shout out to the YMCA and Peanut.
When we got to the top the view was worth the climb.
We sat up there just taking it all in.
I tried to imagine the people who built it and what their lives had been like.
I enjoyed the cool breeze that was more obvious from the higher elevation.
I thought what a wonderful moment we were having together.
And then the bubble burst.
In the form of four very inebriated Guatemalan youth.
How they got to the top of the structure without falling and killing themselves is a wonder.
At first they seemed friendly and harmless,
but then as they talked, even though I know no Spanish I figured they were talking about us, and NOT in a good way,
I looked to my only translator...
Jack.
He was looking straight ahead, his eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched.
If he had been a cartoon character there would have been smoke streaming from his ears.
He was angry.
For the record that does not happen very often. I always called Jack, happy Jack for his easy going disposition. I had not seen Jack this angry in a long time.
I tried to whisper to him and ask him what was wrong but he said to be quiet and just keep staring straight ahead and not make eye contact.
I wanted to leave.
Climb down the long narrow stairway to the other people below but Jack said to wait, that they would leave soon.
And they did, after taking some pictures of them huddled together, mugging for the camera and sticking their middle fingers in the air.
I was relieved until I heard someone saying from the top of the stairs, Hey...Hey.
I looked over to see the youngest of the group, the one who I noticed looked too sweet for the pack of guys he was with, trying to get our attention.
He had waited until his friends has started to make their way down the steps.
In broken English he said,
Sorry....sorry about that.
And then he was gone back down with his buddies.
Jack sat for a few minutes before he told me how much he hated alcohol and what it has done to the lives of the families he loved in Guatemala.
I could tell from his face that he had seen and experienced sadness from the effects of alcohol in families there first hand and I felt a little sad that he was exposed to that but so proud that he would feel so strongly about it.
I wondered about the young man and what chances he had to retain the spirit that I thought I saw a glimpse of in his apology.
The rest of the afternoon it weighed on my mind.

and last but not least for your listening pleasure.
More howler monkeys...at least that is what I was told.
I never did actually see the little buggars.

Is this what Guatemala sounds like?

2010-10-26T09:47:00.000-07:00

Saturday was the day I had been training for a year for.
In anticipation of my husband and sons fondness for climbing everything they see,
I joined a local gym and started walking.
At first I could only walk 15 minutes or so.
My goal was to not slow down Todd or Jack.
That thought alone of disappointing them kept me motivated most days.
By the time I left for Guatemala a year later I was walking for 45 minutes on a pretty steep incline.
(A shout out to my very own personal trainer Peanut. Thank you for all of the times when I did not want to go that you were there beside me, encouraging me. I will always be grateful.)
I would need every bit of that training for this day.
It was decided that instead of JUST visiting Tikal which is a beautiful huge collection Mayan ruins, we would also go to Yaxha, a lesser known but still magnificent historical site, ON THE SAME DAY!
We decided we would start out early and go to Yaxha (prounounced Ya shaw)
Our friend Alfonso was there waiting for us outside of the hotel with that big smile I had come to depend on.
We drove for about a half an hour on a fairly well paved road only to turn off onto a very primitive dirt road.

This would be "the road" (and I use that term loosely) for the next hour as we made the ascent up to higher ground. Alfonso seemed to know the road like the back of his hand, weaving back and forth and side to side to miss the worst of the pot holes and jagged rocks.

Occasionally there would be a cow or a horse or pig in the road and it looked like he would run right into it but the animal always seemed to move just an inch to the left or the right to avoid being roadkill. It was like a well choreographed dance.

We arrived at Yaxha and I could see why Alfonso was excited for us to see it.

It was truly as if we had stepped back in time to the days of the Mayans.

It was remote and junglely and we were the only three people in the park save it were the employees at the front and Alfonso, who would wait at the car.

Todd and Jack scrambled to the top of the first structure they could climb. I stayed below to take pictures and to survey the landscape. I being the most anxious in the group always become the navigator, surveying the lay of the land and planning possible escape routes should a jaguar suddenly appear from the thick forest foliage.

Jack had told me that it was not unheard of.

I wish that I could fully explain what it felt like to be in this fairly remote jungle area, just the three of us, as if we had stepped back into a previous time.

The sights and sounds were overwhelming.

Here is a video that I hope gives you a taste.

The sounds of the howler monkeys were unlike anything I had ever heard.

The only sounds that I had heard like that before were from the soundtrack of Jurassic Park.

It made our little adventure seem fraught with danger. (I have been waiting for a chance to use the word fraught)

As we made our way towards the sounds they abruptly stopped.

The silence seemed scarier.

Todd and Jack both without discussion picked up big rocks and held them in their hands.

I was not sure whether to be comforted by that or not. I mean how good was their aim?, I wondered

We stopped briefly to look up into the trees to see if there was any movement.

None....eerie silence.

I suggested that we just drop the rocks and go. I sighed with relief as the wooded area led to a clearing.

Jack and Todd found the highest of the pyramid like structures to scramble up.

Once again I stayed behind to take pictures and slow my heart rate down to acceptable non threatened levels.

And then perhaps my favorite memory of Yax'ha happened.

I watched as my husband and son sat alone on top of an ancient civilization and they talked.

I don't know what they talked about,

But they sat up there a long time, side by side, deep in conversation.

And my heart was filled with gratitude.

Gratitude for the wonderful man who has been more of a father than I could have ever hoped or even chosen for our children; kind, gentle, always interested in their lives, willing to climb anything along side of them, filled with love.

Gratitude for my son who served the Lord faithfully for two years, kind and gentle like his father, starting a new phase of his life with endless possibilities.

Gratitude that they had this moment together.

And I got to watch from a distance.

Grateful that I had a camera, but realizing it would be one of the mental snapshots that I would keep forever.

A Guatemalan Poison Tree and Alfonso

2010-10-20T21:59:00.000-07:00

To tell you about the rest of the day that we flew into Peten...

I have to back track a little.

It was the last Monday that Jack and I corresponded.

He mentioned that he cut a tree down while doing a service project.

A Chechen Negro tree to be exact.

Translated; Black Poison wood Tree.

And he had a rash all over his body.

Did I know of any thing that he could use to stop the horrible itching.

I looked it up on the internet and found that there was such a tree indigenous to Central America and that the resin is extremely toxic to the skin. If left on for too long it will actually cause second degree burns to the skin.

As always Jack assured me that he was on the mend but when I suggested that I could bring prescription medication to him from home, he thought that would be a good idea.

Little did I know then what I found out once landing in Guatemala.

Apparently Jack's little rash became so bad that I think everyone around him was worried.

He showed me scars from the bad patches and the remnants of the angry looking pockets still left. He was constantly itching. He said that if I had come to Guatemala just a few days earlier I would have seen his face swollen and oozing. I thanked my lucky stars that that wasn't my airport greeting. Everywhere we went the next week the members would talk about his chechen negro rash. They had given him potions made of the bark of the antidote tree that I found in an old water bottle in his luggage. He had been given bark to rub on the rash. They were genuinely concerned and I realized that he was blessed that he was not any worse.

The mission made a new rule;

No more chopping down trees....

They probably call it the Winn rule now.

I tell this story because one of the first places that Jack took us to after getting settled into our hotel was Petencito Zoo. A favorite attraction for the missionaries on Pdays. Jack had told us in letters about the jaguar and monkeys and sent pictures home of him holding the hand of a monkey with a big grin on his face.

(That was for his dad's benefit. Todd does not like or trust monkeys and has always warned our children not to play with monkeys....really..... he warns them of the dangers as if monkeys will suddenly parade down the streets of our suburban town)

Our driver for the weekend was Alfonso.

Alfonso met us at the hotel with a the warmest smile. It was obvious when he saw hugged Jack that he was very fond of him. He talked to us with and tried to keep his Spanish simple using lots of gestures. I felt immediately comfortable with him and knew that we would be in good hands the next three days with Alfonso at the wheel.

We reached Petencito and entered the park. We were once again the only people visiting the zoo at the time. This became a reoccurring theme in Guatemala. I was never sure whether it was a good thing or not. Usually I am not one for crowds but this had an almost eerie feel to it.

We started down a dirt path.

This was not like any zoo I had ever been to.

And what was the first display that we encountered?

THAT"S RIGHT...

A Chechen Negro tree right by our walking path with a fancy sign which even gave it's scientific botanical category and name.

Did I mention that the locals there say that just by standing under it the tree get's angry and releases poison from it's leaves?

I quickly ushered my son away from the beast of a tree.

Well after I took this picture.

But in my defense I have never taken a faster photo.

We went on to enjoy the day at the zoo without further danger.....

It was built on a fairly steep hill and was more like a nature trail with animal exhibits ending in a beautiful lake view.

The only problem is that what comes down

must go up.

Straight up...

with slippery moss covering the pathway

Oh boy was that a memory that will stay with me for awhile.

And what about the monkeys you ask?

I saved the best for last.

Props to the Prop....

2010-10-18T15:03:00.000-07:00

If after the excitement of landing in Guatemala,
seeing and hugging my boy for the first time in two years,
a crazy taxi ride,
were not enough for one day.....
the fun continued.
We had a six-thirty flight to the region know as the Peten.
on an old fashioned propeller plane.
What was I thinking when I planned it all?
Not only would we need to wake up at 3 am to get the airport but we would be flying in a plane with
PROPELLERS!
After my recent brush with airplane disaster I wondered if I needed my head examined.
The only other way to get to the area would have been by car or by bus. After I read online that if you are driving in Guatemala and are involved in an accident that has serious injury or death, all parties are immediately jailed until the matter can be investigated and resolved.
NO THANK YOU!
The bus which Jack rode up and back when he traveled there sounded like a plan until I thought about 8 hours through the dark night sitting up trying to sleep while pondering the stories of armed robberies I had read about on our government website....
Propeller plane it is then...
We arrived at the airport the full two hours suggested, only to find that no one there knew that there was even a flight to Peten Flores.
Jack assured me that this was typical for Guatemala and that someone would come later who would know about the flight. He seemed relaxed while I paced around looking for someone who might have the right information. I had not shed my "anxious american" skin yet. The problem was that I was dependent on Jack to be my translator and he had become a Guatemala, not given to such anxiety attacks. He kept assuring me that it would work out.
And it did.
Here we are waiting the two hours for our plane.

This is what only four hours of sleep gets you.

Boarding the plane.

Hanging back to get a good shot. Todd is wondering if I am ready to bolt.

The plane ride was actually smooth sailing and other than my noticing that one propeller was spinning faster than the other, (I am very observant when flying now) I relaxed and enjoyed the 40 minute flight as I watched Todd and Jack sit together talking and then catching some zzz's.

Arriving safely at the local Peten airport

I was glad to see a shuttle waiting outside the airport to take us to our hotel. I am always nervous when I book hotels to find out if the pictures on the internet match my expectations. It was a little unnerving when after leaving the main paved road, we had to travel a few more miles down the a rocky dirt road in a very remote jungle area. I had nothing to fear. The hotel was beautiful. We appeared to be the only guests as well and the staff was very attentive.

The balcony of our room

The hotel was built on a hill that gently sloped into the lake. It had so many steps mimicking the architecture of the Mayan ruins of Tikal and Yaxcha. I would become more familiar with steps in the next few days.

We changed into P day clothes and waited for our driver, Alfonso. He would be our constant companion, driver, guide and friend in Peten.
On to the next adventure to await us.
Petencito Zoo and the dreaded Chechen Negro.

A taxi ride.

2010-10-13T18:37:00.000-07:00

We called called for a taxi to pick us up at Sister Christie's house. It was a man named Obidio who Jack said was not a member of the church but was a friend to the missionaries. I was mindful of the afternoon sun beginning to sink into the horizon.
"Don't be out after dark"
Obidio arrived a half hour later in a beat up white compact car. A light drizzle started to fall as we hugged Sister Christie again and then once more. We stuffed some of the luggage into the trunk and then put the biggest suitcase in the back with Todd and I scrunched in. This didn't look like any of the taxis I had ever ridden in but Jack spoke to Obidio like a friend. One of the windshield wipers was pulled away from the glass and hung in the air waving wildly back and forth. At least it was not the one on the drivers side. I don't know if it would have mattered anyway since Obidio created his own laws while driving. He maneuvered in and out of the heavy traffic creating new lanes and ignoring the ALTO (stop) signs altogether.
I reached for a seat belt.
If I had ever needed one before, this seemed like the time to have one.
None.
I hoped that the fact that Todd and I were so wedged into the back that there could be no movement in case of a crash.
Todd and I kept exchanging glances, both so tired from the long day, that it had a dreamlike quality to the ride as if we might have been on Disney's newest attraction.
We noticed the gas gauge indicated that the car was on empty. I was relieved when Obidio pulled in to the gas station to fill it up. He hopped out and before I could finish my sentence he was back in the car pulling away.
I asked Jack if he even put any gas into the car.
He said that they only put a gallon or two in the tank because if the car gets stolen then they don't lose a big investment of a full tank of gas.
Obidio's car had already been stolen 5 times.
Hmmm....
We needed a cell phone so that I could keep in contact with my girls at home and also call for taxis.
Jack suggested that we stop at a mall that was on the way to the hotel and asked Obidio to take us there and wait. He dropped us off at the door and said something in Spanish which I thought was "I am going to find a parking place."
The mall was busy and we being the only gringo's in the place was cause for intense staring. I wanted to take a picture but Jack recommended that I keep my camera in my pocket. We found a cell phone complete with charger and 180 minutes for 12 dollars american. I was impressed with the bargain.
We hurried out to the entrance to meet Obidio. It was dark by this time. He was not there. We walked around in the parking lot hoping to spot his vehicle.
Did he leave us? He did have all of Jack's luggage with the exception of a small bag left in the hotel. Not much of real monetary value but filled with all of Jack's memories from the last two years. Notebooks, journals, memory cards filled with pictures....I asked Jack, "So umm how well do you know Obidio? Is it possible that he could have left with all of your luggage." Jack said, "I don't think so."
Don't think so......
It's dark.
Jack's luggage is gone.
Was this what we were warned about?
Just as I tried to quell the rising panic within, a small beat up white compact car with one wiper waving in the air pulled up with it's driver eating an ice cream cone.
I was never more happy to see someone.

Day One continued....Sister Christie

2010-10-11T23:10:00.000-07:00

We made our way from the airport to the Barcelo Hotel.
It had been highly recommended to us and arranged by Ninja's Dad.
As we entered the hotel I wished I could call him on the spot and give him a big telephone hug.
It was beautiful.
It was far above my expectations and I felt not only safe but pampered by it's luxuriousness.
Jack made a beeline straight for the nearest bed and flopped down.
"I don't think you understand what this feels like after two years." he sighed.
A big huge bed and carpet under his feet seemed like heaven.
We needed to change dollars to quetzales and so we walked around the corner to the local bank.
Trying to remember all the "don'ts" I was given I looked around nervously.
It was a little shocking to see the guards outside every business with a rifle in their hands.
I wished had made me feel more secure but it didn't.
We decided to head to a sisters house in Llano Largo before dark.
It was where Jack lived before his last transfer and he had left a lot of his belongings there when he had made the long journey to Peten. He was anxious for me to meet Sister Christie who had been one of the wonderful people who had cared for him.
We took the cab that waited outside the hotel figuring that it wasn't just flagging one down on the streets, another don't we were trying to obey.
Jack sat up front and began a conversation with the driver.
Todd and I just sat in silence, amazed at the ease and fluency of his conversation.
I pulled my video camera out because I just couldn't believe that he could speak the language so well after two years. I wanted to record it as if it were like a magic spell that would be lost when we returned back to the states. I couldn't understand a word but I was bursting with pride. After a few minutes of taping, Jack turned my way and gave me a look. I felt like I was caught with my hand in the cookie jar or something....like an eavesdropper. I put my camera down.

We reached Sister Christies home and we were greeted warmly. She was a beautiful woman with a quick smile, who hugged me with a tight squeeze. We held each other for quite a long time considering we were strangers to each other. But we shared something special....we both cared about Elder Winn. I could tell that they had a special relationship. I did not understand much of what was being said but I could tell by the tone that they had a fun teasing type banter. Comfortable and caring. For a moment I felt a little jealous to see this but realized that I was much more grateful for people who had been a stand-in for me over the last two years. I was filled with love for this woman. When I thanked her for watching out for my son she said to Jack to tell me that she always made sure that he washed his hands before he ate. I laughed since this was not always something that I could get him to do when he was in my home. She served us choco bananas and chocolate covered bread on a stick. She talked about Jack and our family returning again to Guatemala and when we said that we would love to do that someday as a family, she asked, "When....what day?" That would not be the last time we would be asked that question on our trip.

The Adventure Begins

2010-10-09T22:29:00.000-07:00

I didn't sleep at all the night before.
I had trouble comprehending that within the next 16 hours I would finally see my son.
I was also scared.
Everything that I had read about Guatemala scared me.
I had made the mistake of reading what our government had to say about travel in Guatemala the night before because I couldn't sleep.
There were multiple warnings and admonitions. They made it seem like there was absolutely no place where you could be safe.
Not exactly bedtime reading.
But there was no turning back. My son who had developed a great love for this dangerous country was waiting. Can you see the nervous fake smile on my face? It is a mixture of fear and that butterfly feelings of excitement to see my son. I had wondered for months if he would look different to me. When my brother got home from his mission to Japan his bone structure of his face looked foreign to me as if the lines of his face had changed from boy to man. I prepared myself to accept the changes in Jack.
We boarded the plane and buckled in and I accepted that there was no turning back. It was actually going to happen. We were the only gringos on the plane as far as I could tell and the plane was half empty. Not many people crowding there way there to visit. I tried to tell the grinning mad next to me that I was going to see my son whom I hadn't seen in two years but he just nodded and smiled. Soon I would be in his country, nodding and smiling, understanding little.
They served cheeseburgers.

How very American. I wondered if that would be the last meal I would want to eat with the exception of the crackers, rice krispie treats and pop tarts that were in my bag. The flight went surprisingly fast. From the air Guatemala did not look like the menacing land that the website had described.

The plane finally landed and the lump in my stomach reached my throat. Breathing seemed to take effort. My hands were shaking as I wheeled my carry on through customs. I knew that Jack would be at the airport waiting but I wasn't sure where. The airport seemed deserted.

As we passed through customs I realized that there would not be many who spoke any English and the answer to my lack of Spanish skills from the workers there was to just keep repeating themselves. My confused blank smile was not enough of a clue and it only made me long to go back in time to better prepare for this trip. I realized that all of the people who were waiting for loved ones were not to be found inside the airport. They must be outside.
Jack must be outside.
Todd readied the camera prepared to document that first long anticipated greeting. He had been hastily trained on the new video camera and held it out as we started out the exit door. We had been told many things NOT to do on our trip.
Don't be out after dark.
Don't flag down a unknown taxi driver.
Don't bring your laptop.
Don't wear any jewelry.
Don't go into Zone 18.
Don't eat in people's homes.
Don't use sink water to brush your teeth.
Don't take your camera out in the city in front of crowds.
Within the next seven days we would break ALL of the rules except for one. I never did wear jewelry.
Todd had both the video camera and my new digital camera at the ready as the door opened. Behind a barricade stood 50 or 60 native Guatemalans waiting for their loved ones. Aside from their brown skin and hair and eyes they looked like any other group of families eagerly awaiting that hug that I was longing for. Jacks tall lanky body and dark suit stuck out like a sore thumb. His head and shoulders well above the crowd. I started to pick up my pace as I saw Jack making his way to the side of the barricades. My hands were full of documents and luggage and I wanted to just drop it all on the sidewalk, but I remembered the warnings. We finally made our way to each other and I hugged him, a strong long bear hug.
And I wept.
Tears of joy and relief and love.
I didn't care anymore if there was a picture or video or anything to document the moment.
It was one that I will never forget.

to be continued......

This one should work!

2010-10-09T17:04:00.000-07:00

Let's try that video again.....

Embrace

2010-10-06T22:13:00.000-07:00

Well after two long years I had the moment that I had often dreamed about.
It did not disappoint.
I have so much to tell you
about Elder Winn and Guatemala and lessons I learned about myself...
The week has been a blur and every time I sat down to write about it there was something more important...
My son.
It's no fun to sit in a hotel room and watch someone blog
He can tell you that.
So with what little free time I have had was spent giving him my full attention.
There were pictures to look at.
Journals to read
Experiences to hear about
and two years worth of scratching his head (something he liked me to do for him) to catch up on.
I don't mind a minute of it.
To tide you over until I am back at home where I can properly tell you about my adventures, I will post something that I wasn't sure I would.
The video of "THE HUG"
I hate videos of myself
Hate
Hate
Hate them.
And I look a little serious.
I wasn't.
I was overwhelmed with emotion.
I guess that's what I look like when I am overwhelmed.
It was amazing.

There is much more fun and adventure to come..
So stay tuned friends
I will try to make it worth your while.
(video is reposted above....yea look up...it's there)

The Empty Nest

2010-09-26T23:56:00.000-07:00

I have written this post a dozen times and have discarded all of them.
About this new "stage" in my life.
Writing about it will help me absorb it and then move on but
the words are stuck in my brain.
I have faith that they will dribble out on their own in unexpected ways
and unexpected places.
But for now I will just share a quote from a movie.
I don't want to tell you then name of the movie because...well.....it's not a good movie.
It's not that it is a movie with sex or violence or nudity.
I can't recall any swearing.
It is just one of those movies that turns everything upside down but assures you it is right side up.
When I saw it in the theaters I was angry at the way they manipulated my feelings so that wrong seemed like right and right seemed like wrong.
When I saw it on the TV guide I muttered...
Oh THAT movie. I am not going to get suckered into watching that again.
And I planned on not watching it.
I am still not sure how I ended up watching it but there was something that the main character said that spoke to how I was feeling.
she said,
When a woman makes a choice to marry and have children.
In one way, her life begins
and in another way it stops.
You build a life of details and
you just stop and stay steady
So that your children can move and
When they leave they take your life and details with them.
You are expected to move on again,
but you don’t even remember what it was that moved you.
Because nobody has asked you in so long
Not even yourself.
I understood.
Lately,
I have felt a little like an untethered balloon.
It is a light and floaty feeling that I am not entirely comfortable with right now.
Don't get me wrong.
I love being a wife and mother.
It is what I chose and sacrificed for and
There is nothing that I would change or want to do different.
Nothing.
But I am at the place where I need to move on.
And I am asking myself,
What it is that moves me.....
And so the journey begins.

Polishing the Silver

2010-09-20T22:37:00.000-07:00

There is so much for me to blog about.
I have at least a dozen posts that are racing around my head like it's the Indy 500 up there.
So what did I do all day today?
Redecorated my blog.
Do you like it?
I call that....."polishing the silver"
One time I was going to have a dinner party at my house.
There was so much to do.
Grocery shopping, cooking, cleaning, little favors to make, tables to set.
I wasn't sure how I was going to get it all done in time.
I realized that I wanted to use a sterling silver pitcher for the occasion that I had received as a gift from my favorite uncle and had never used.
I took it out of it's protective bag only to find out it was tarnished.
So I said I would just sit down for a few minutes to give it a lick and a promise...
(I didn't actual "lick" it, that is only an old saying that people who are over 80 might know)
I actually enjoyed sitting there doing such a simple task.
I rubbed...it shined.
Easy.
Gratifying.
I found some other pieces that were possible necessities for my party.
Then I just starting polishing any ole piece of silver.
It was just easier than all of the other tasks that were overwhelming to me.
Sometimes I get like that.
I get frozen with all that I want to accomplish and I work on a non-essential task like polishing the silver.
So instead of writing about;
my empty nest
my Utah vacation,
my tooth implant adventure,
my graveyard tour,
my moving my daughter in to her new home,
my nasty spill where I almost landed on a chihuahua,
my impending trip to Central America,
my reoccurring nightmares about a certain picture,
my bff's emergency appendectomy,
or just a sign I saw in a yard that caused me to think for DAYS..
I changed the way my blog looked.
Yup
I totally polished the silver.
I did however want to show you a picture where my peanut resides for the next school year as a token of good faith that I will stop polishing and WRITE!!
Just out of curiosity which one of those stories piqued your interest the most...
leave me a message and help me out a little here..
I am running out of silver.

Landing in crash position

2010-09-07T16:55:00.000-07:00

I didn't start shaking until the plane was on the ground and I had walked away.

That is what I found odd about the whole experience.

But I am getting ahead of myself.

It started Sunday with already enough emotion.

It seemed to fill my throat and make me have an unpleasant choking feeling.

I had to say goodbye to my kids.

I had to leave my baby at college.

Having done it many times before I thought it would have been easier.

Maybe a little

But not enough to make a real difference.

Now standing in the newsstand at the airport I prepared to salve my hurt with a new book and a decadent snack.

After all I deserved it.

"38 people dead and more trapped in a bus in Guatemala"

The television which I had not even noticed reported.

As a mother I can tune out all unnecessary noise but the word Guatemala even whispered makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

(Let it go, I tell myself. There are hundreds of thousands of people in Guatemala. It doesn't mean that he is in a mudslide. Go get on the plane.)

I fought the urge to call someone and try and find out the details. I just paid for my stuff and headed for my gate. If there was bad news I reasoned I would need to hear it in Houston anyway. I would need to be with Todd.

(stop thinking...he is fine)

I found my seat and juggled all of my heavy carry-ons and put them in the over head bin. My seat mate looked up for a second and then looked away quickly, obviously not in the mood to be friends or engage in any conversational niceties.

(Good I don't feel like talking to her either)

The doors of the plane closed and I was instructed to turn off my cell phone. I didn't mind. If it at all interferes with the pilots instruments far be it from me to be a part of any trouble.

I settled in with my book in hand.

(Dang it! reading glasses!)

I unwedge my heavy bag from under the seat in front of me. My seat mate turned even further away towards the window.

My bag was like a dark black hole of the miscellaneous things I could not fit in my suitcase and I continued to rummage around feeling for the smooth hard case that held my glasses. I thought I heard my seatmate make a disgusted sound.

I pulled up something soft and square.

(Dang it! Lauren's wallet....with everything that she would need to survive...her drivers license, her money, her keys and most importantly her college ID that was also her meal ticket. How would she eat? Would she be searching frantically for it while I was in the air?)

We hadn't left the ground yet and so I took out my cell phone and turned it back on. I kept it hidden under the bottom of my shirt and flinched every time the flight attendant passed by making her final rounds. I worried that my seatmate would finally turn my way and catch me violating the safety rules and yell for the flight attendant.

(Yeah..she looks like the type)

I texted: FOUND YOUR WALLET IN MY PURSE. DON"T WORRY. WILL CALL IN DENVER.

I felt a little better but still wonder how it would all work out.

I notice the couple in front of me are sitting across from each other in the two aisle seats. I notice them mostly because he is a tall man and his seat tilts back farther than everyone else. I am wondering if his seat has been put in the upright and locked position like it is suppose to be and not almost in my lap. I am also annoyed that he has a gray mullet hairdo. The top is a traditional mens cu,t and is quite pretty, all silver and curly, but in the back it is long and in a ponytail that curls like a big gray slinky. It looks greasy and I am not excited at the prospects of staring at it for an hour.

(just mind your own business and stop worrying about peoples hair for Pete's sake)

I began to read my book.

The hour flight went pretty slowly with an occasional announcement from our friendly pilot. Something about the things we could see outside our windows and the beautiful clear skies and blah blah blah. His voice was mellow and comforting.

(Not that I want to lean any closer to seatmate to see any of the sights anyway)

His voice floats through the air again telling us that we would soon begin to make our descent into Denver in 15 minutes. I have taken a Dramamine and the effects are making me feel dream like. I close my eyes.

I realize that the plane is banking a lot.

I know this because this is the motion that makes me feel sick. The pilot seems to be circling Denver.

Once

Twice

At the third time I am beginning to be angry and queasy.

The pilot speaks again.

"I need everyone to listen closely to what I am about to say"

His voice is no longer smooth and mellow. It has a slight edge. It reminds me of a parents voice when they are worried but don't want you to worry with them.

What he said becomes blurry because every time I would try to concentrate and understand a sentence he would be on to the next one.

"There are two sets of brakes on a plane and one of the sets is engaged"

(what?)

"Now there are a few things that could happen. When we land the tires will probably pop and if they do there might be a fire"

(does he mean explode and not "pop")

"If there is a fire then you need to stay in your seat. The fire trucks are already on the runway prepared to put out the fires and you need to wait until the fire is out."

(does he want us to stay in a burning plane?)

"After the fire is out then we will most likely be using the emergency chute and you need to be prepared to know how to slide down them."

Everyone take out your emergency instruction card from the seat pocket in front of you."

(how can these cartoon drawings really prepare us for that? Do the flight attendants look scared? Does anyone else around me look scared?)

"You may not take anything with you. You need to leave everything behind."
(Lauren's wallet!...I need to get it out. She needs that wallet.)
I realize that trying to unwedge my bag and get her wallet out will be noticed and I will be in trouble with the flight attendants. You don't want to tick off the people that will be helping you through an emergency.

The pilot continues to talk as I study my emergency materials and continue to scan the plane for anyone who looks scared.

We are given two choices of crash positions.

One where our heads are on our laps and our arms are tucked under our legs.

No way.

Even if I could get my head down that far I am not going to risk the chance that mullet man in the seat in front of me will not fly backwards and snap my neck in two.

(Oh my goodness we are going to be in an impact situation and I am trying to figure out how not to be paralyzed)

I chose the seemingly safer option of crossing my arms over my wrists and tucking my chin down on my chest.

I notice that the mullet man and his wife are holding hands across the aisle of the plane.

(This is like one of those bad made for TV movies about a fiery plane crash.)

My seatmate for the first time looks at me and finally speaks. I realize that it is the first time I have seen her face and that it could be the last face I see.

She says, "What do you think is going to happen?"

"I don't know", I reply.

The flight attendants are holding up the cockpit phone between their heads to hear what last instructions from the pilot are. I continue to look for the expressions on their faces to determine how bad this could be.

They direct two burly guys in the front to the emergency doors to go over how to operate them.

They check each passengers seat belt to make sure that it is securely and properly fastened.

They go to the two women who have small babies on board to instruct them on how to hold their babies in crash position to try and best protect them.

Protect them.

(Babies....my kids......not babies, but they still need me. Lauren in her first week of college....Megan starting out her career as a teacher after a year and a half of searching...Jack finishing his mission in Guatemala in just three short weeks.....then Todd...my partner...my best friend waiting in Houston for me to try and adjust to the new chapter in our lives....our empty nest. Everyone of them making a major transition in their life. No this can't happen. This is not the time for this to happen.......

Don't panic)

We are instructed to get in crash position. We are not near the ground and it looks like it will be awhile, but we are all are compliant. The plane is strangely quiet and I keep waiting for someone to panic.

I turn my head to my seatmate and ask her to please tell me when she can see that we are almost on the ground.

She smiles and says she will

I pray.

But as I start asking for help and speaking about each of my family members, the tears start to well up in my eyes.

(I need to stop. He knows what I need. I feel a prompting that I have already received an assurance that all will be well. There has already been a calming presence in that plane. Just focus on what you are told.)

My seatmate says in a most gentle whisper.
"I see the ground. We are almost on the ground."
I brace my body against the seat in front of me.
The pilot tilts the wings to the side and I can tell that one side of the plane is on the ground.
I close my eyes waiting for the pop.
Both sets of wheels land on the runway and
the plane comes to a stop.
We are safe.
No crash
No explosion
Just applause
Grateful happy applause.

We all smile as the firetrucks escort the plane to a safe place to deboard. There are official looking employees waiting at the bottom of the stairs, looking both nervous and relieved. I take out my phone and look back to snap a picture.
That is when I noticed my hands are shaking.

Beautiful Surf....

2010-08-20T21:27:00.000-07:00

A reader posted a comment that seemed to sum up my week...
人生有如洶湧的波濤,如果沒有岩石的阻擋，怎能激起美麗的浪花？
which roughly translated means
(and I do mean roughly translated)
Life is like surging waves, if not rock the block, how can they create beautiful surf?
Which I took to mean....
That in life our obstacles create the beautiful surf from the surging waves.
I am having a week of surging waves and a few big rocks to hurdle.
So I appreciated the reminder.
To sit back and look for the beauty of the surf.
And so to my blogger friend who left the helpful comment....
感谢您的评论，并感谢你阅读我的博客。
And to everyone else....
Surfs up!

Toy Thoughts

2010-08-14T11:22:00.000-07:00

I have been decluttering lately
There is an ugly sounding word...
Not it's meaning but what it sounds like when you say it.
DE-CLUTTER.
It sounds harsh on the tongue,
and I guess it is fitting since decluttering can be a little harsh
when done properly.
I began this "little project" when I started contemplating the changes that are about the occur in my life.
THE DREADED EMPTY NEST (a surefire hit of a post for the future)
I figured that if my nest was going to be empty..
that at least it could be clean.
Not clean as in antiseptic pine-sol fresh (although that never hurts)
but clean as in devoid of
junk.
And let's face it...wherever there are children....there is junk.
baby furniture
baby appliances
old clothes
blankets
drawings
art projects
painted ceramic do hickeys
old school papers
books
~~mother's day gifts~~ (oops)
and
TOYS
mountains and mountains and mountains
of toys.
My problem is that I LOVE toys.
I always have and I always will.
I think that we come to earth programmed with specific likes and dislikes
It's like they told my spirit...
"Hey you over there....
yea... you.... the one that is just sitting there all the time...
It's your turn.
Just an FYI.... you you are going to like
photos, fancy lunch treats, graveyards and toys.....a LOT
You will always hate bullies, olives and exercise.
Now go on....
Get outta here."
When my children were born it was such a wonderful excuse to indulge some of my favorite things.
I would spend countless hours wandering the aisles of Target in search of the latest toys.
I would get a rush of adrenaline to find a toy that I they liked on clearance.
My mom who was always my shopping buddy would try to be patient with me,
but would often tell me that she would only go on a shopping excursion if it did NOT include the toy section.
But it always did.
But back to de-cluttering (((shudder)))
I was doing pretty good with my task until I came to a wicker basket
filled with random little knick knacks.
Random reminders of little hands
wandering around...
leaving
junk
scattered
in
their
wake.
I don't know whether or not I am ready for "the empty" nest
but I KNOW I am not ready to de-clutter
everything.
Not just yet.

Who needs a dog?

2010-08-13T10:13:00.000-07:00

I
L
O
V
E
my new camera!!
It is just a small one for my pocket
to take pictures of EVERYONE in Guatemala.
(or a certain someone)
BAZILLIONS of them.
It has all of the new quirky features for people that think that playing
with a camera is just about the best thing EVER!
It has a fish eye
a color swappper (not the techie term for that)
a color isolator thingee (that IS the technical term for that one)
a color saturator
a miniatures feature
a blink warning indicator (I have pirate eye...a term I coined for my ability to close one eye for EVERY picture of me)
a panoramic stitcher thing that actually SEWS my photos together into one
and a little genie that will pop out of my camera and clean my room and other chores..
(no not really but that would make me love it so much I might marry it)
But seriously....the best feature ever is
IT KNOWS ME!
No really I mean it.
It recognizes my face and waits until I get into the shot
(if I should so choose to set it on this feature which I never will since I hate hate hate pictures of me...remember pirate eye??)
and THEN it snaps the shot!
I can also set it to take a picture when I wink!!!!
or SMILE!!!
Can you believe it?
I know that I can't.
I am going to just sit and hold it today in my hands and marvel at it's abilities.
With this kind of technology.
Who needs a pet?

Thought provoking Tuesday

2010-08-10T15:56:00.000-07:00

I like to think.
It gives me something to do while I do my other favorite thing.
Sit.
And I often have things that I wonder about.
So in an effort to share
I am going to commit to
(trumpets are playing a bah bah bah BAH!)
THOUGHT PROVOKING TUESDAYS
A different random thought every Tuesday.
(don't get too excited..I also said that I would clean my room today too...hasn't happened)
Here is today's

When did we become a people that feel the need to list our accomplishments on our vehicles?
Like some sort of moving billboard of our personal lives.
I started to ponder this today as I came home from my Sonic Happy Hour Drink run and was driving behind a car that had a license plate cover that proudly declared,
"BOTH of my sons are Eagle Scouts. (emphasis added)
(whewf aren't you glad that they both did or else it would have had to read "Only one of my sons is an Eagle Scout...we are really worried about the other one)
I remember a time when the back window of a car was reserved for checking your blind spot
and I could only guess at the fact that your child is a soccer/band/ballet/baseball honor student.
Back in the the day when we realized the only other people interested in that was Grandma and Grandpa and then only marginally so.
It started out innocently enough with the little stick figures of how many people were in your family..
A fact that ever other driver on the road is fascinated by.
Then the stick figures became symbols that told something about your life...
like flip flops,
or people holding bats and balls.
Then the addition of pets...a sad day indeed.
We were then treated to their numbers on the various sports teams they competed on,
which I must say will come in handy if I ever go to one of their games,
"Look Mr. T, there is #79...his mother drives a white Mercedes SUV.
Now I see names underneath the figures....
I remember being warned as a young mother not to write my child's name on their lunchbox so that a stranger/pervert couldn't call them by name to help him find his lost puppy.
I guess that doesn't apply to moving vehicles.
Maybe it doesn't matter whether or not I am impressed with your accomplishments.
Maybe it is my being raised with my Grandma saying, "fools names in foolish places"
Maybe I am just not proud enough of my children's accomplishments to invest in a decal.
I was just wondering....

Before you write any pithy comebacks or go and scrape those stickers off your back window, I apologize if I hit a nerve...My motto has always been live and let live.

P.S. Enlarge the picture and see if you can guess what made me chuckle and take a picture of this one.

PB&J the right way

2010-08-04T16:13:00.000-07:00

I ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch today.
In a nod to my mother I cut it the way she did.
Across and not diagonal.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Growing up I didn't appreciate that she cut it that way.
All of the "cool kids" had their sandwich cut on the diagonal.
I am not sure if I asked my mom to do it differently
or
I suffered in silence
but it was a hardship for me nonetheless.
And that was not the only problem I faced.
All of the other cool kids had really cool lunches...
individual chip bags like Cheetos and Doritos.
Twinkies, Ding Dongs, and my personal favorite. HoHos
each little roll wrapped up in a blanket of aluminum foil
which could be carefully flattened out and used to create fanciful foil designs.
I did not get those coveted items.
My lunch had
a sandwich,
a plastic baggie of chips created from a bigger family sized bag of chips,
and a homemade cupcake, which presented the biggest of my lunch time woes.
Everyone knows that the frosting is the most important part of any cupcake
In fact the cake is really only the vehicle used to transport the creamy frosting goodness to your mouth.
Well when you put a frozen cupcake in a baggie it initially looks fine
but after sitting in a hot paper bag for a few hours it is not.
As I would sit at my cafeteria table and pull out my cupcake
it was like a cupcake massacre had been committed.
The frosting was smeared all over the inside of the baggie.
In an attempt to get all of it's lusciousness I was forced to turn the plastic baggie inside out on my fist
and lick it off,
like a big fist shaped frosting glove.
It was not only embarrassing but the smell of plastic mixed with frosting
still haunts me to this day.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
My own children were given EVERY lunch delicacy that Kroger could provide.
If there was a new lunch type item to hit the market.
It was in a Winn kids lunch first.
Gushers, Cakesters, Fruit by the Foot, Little Debbies, Pringles, Twinkies, Snack Stix, Ding Dongs, Pop Tarts, Mini cookies.......
The other children at the table marveled at the uniqueness of their fare.
When I told my children about the hardships I had endured
and the shame of my frosting glove,
they said....Oooo I would like cupcakes.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
I actually did learn years later why my mom cut my sandwich like that.
It is easier to put it in a baggie.
Thanks Mom.

Chapter 4: I love a parade..but it's not my fault

2010-08-02T10:27:00.000-07:00

Chapter 4: I love a parade but it's not my fault.

You really need to blame him....
My Dad.
As a child one of my favorite memories were the nights Dad would pull out the slide projector
and we would look at family slides.
We would relive happy moments together.
Laughing at each others pictures,
Thinking up silly captions and
secretly wishing that we could hurry up and get to the ones we were in.
Dad would often ask us which year we wanted to review...
We all would shout, of course, the year in which we were the most prominently featured.
There was only one thing that could bring those fun times to a jarring halt.
Dad's parade pictures.
I can still hear Mom's voice,
"John....go through those faster..no one wants to see those 50 pictures of a parade."
Click...Click....Click
I remember the sound of the remote straining to slog past them.
The groans from the crowd almost drowning it out.
The deep sighs of relief when a familiar face appeared
Not sitting on a float.
It didn't even matter if it was one of my siblings....
I tried hard to remember the year we were on so that when Dad called out for a favorite.....
Well my friends..
Genetics is a funny thing.....
Somethings are just too strongly embedded in our DNA to fight.
And so without further adieu
I give you the Park City Fourth of July Parade....
(and don't even TRY to click through faster...I can hear you...)

(please ignore the pained look of Ninja's face)

There!
Now was that so bad?

I didn't think so.
And like the Beatles sang,
"You're such a lovely audience
We'd like to take you home with us.
We'd love to take you home."
Because I have three times as many more pictures of the parade..
This was just a sampling
wait.....
come back....
please.....
thanks dad :(

Happy Birthday Mr. T.

2010-07-30T15:50:00.000-07:00

Dear Mr. T,
Happy Birthday my one true love,
I think you are perfect.
Even if you pointed out last night that my chicken was pink,
or when you pull more than your share of the sheets over on your side of the bed.
I think you are the handsomest man I have ever met,
Even when you tell me stories of your childhood when people said something mean
or when you get so embarrased when I tell you other people agree with me.
I think you are so smart,
Even when you have a bad day at work and you can't get the budget model to work right
or you ask me what the name of the actress is on TV (even though it is NOT her.)
I think you are so kind and gentle,
Even when you make that hmpf sound when you have to get back dressed and go back to the car
after you asked us 10 tens before you undressed if we got everything when we stay in hotels.
or when you got mad at Jack In the Box because they got everything in our order right except
your two tacos.
You are the perfect man for me
And I could not be happier that you were born on this day.
You make every day the best day ever,
Just by being you.
Love, The Momshell

Satan is cookin' up trouble in the kitchen

2010-07-29T20:09:00.000-07:00

I interrupt your regularly scheduled programming
(i.e. the last chapter of my road trip with phenomenal parade photos)
to bring you this important message.....
I MUST STOP FEEDING THE MISSIONARIES!

I am an average cook.
Not an amazing cook like my mother,
not a horrible cook like......
(cmon....like I would say someone is a bad cook......)
I am an OK cook. medium.
good enough for you to enjoy a meal but nothing to alert the media.
Unless a missionary is invited into my home.
That is when all H.... E....double hockey sticks breaks loose.
I have heard that missionaries should stay out of the water.
I don't know the actual doctrinal reasons behind it but I have been told it is because
Satan has power there.
I think that in his spare time and after he towels off he comes to my kitchen
but only when I prepare a meal for our missionaries.
I have overcooked, undercooked and plain badly cooked many a meal for them.
Things just don't work right when they are invited over.
In our church the members take turns feeding these fine young men
at least one meal a day.
I am on the calendar for the fifth Tuesday and the fifth Thursday in the month if they should happen to occur.
It was the last spot available.
Obviously word of my cooking has gotten around.
One time I even burned pasta.
Plain boiling spaghetti.
Two ingredients....noodles AND water!!!
Burnt and stuck to the bottom of my pan like super glue.
Cakes have been known to actually split down the middle like a mini Grand Canyon after an earthquake.
Brownies like hockey pucks.
One time I even served lemonade to a returning missionary who had brought his sister along with him to visit families in the ward.
They sipped very daintily and slowly on their beverage.
I think the words "strong but good" were even said.
After they left I tasted it and remained in a pucker for hours after.
I had added half the water that I was suppose to.
I may not be a gourmet chef but come on........
I am not stupid.
I can read directions.
But something happens when these sweet servants of the Restored Gospel walk through my door.
Tonight was no exception.
It started with the rolls that looked a little anemic in color.
They were cooked too much on top and yet retained a wet doughy like consistency on the bottom.
YUM!
The tomatoes on the salad were hard as rocks.
The cucumber a little bitter
but the piece de resistance HAD to be the chicken.
It was a dish I have made a million times. It is fool proof. It has 5 layers....
Boneless skinless chicken breasts
Slices of swiss cheese
A can of cream of chicken soup thinned with milk
A bag of Pepperidge Farm Herb stuffing
A stick of butter melted and drizzled on top.
Cook in a 375 degree oven for an hour and
VIOLA!
unless you are eating at my house and your name has Elder at the front of it.
I pulled it out and the top layer of stuffing looked way too brown,
verging on burnt.
I was worried about the chicken and so I took a piece from the edge and cut into it.
It seemed perfect.
I scraped off the browner pieces of stuffing and brought it to the table.
All was well until in the middle of my interviewing our newest Elder who only came into the mission field two weeks ago, Mr T. turned to his companion and said,
"Is your chicken raw in the middle???
Because that looks pretty pink to me."
The rest of the evening is pretty much a blur from there.
I am going to go to bed and ponder whether or not I can or should retain my spot on the missionary calendar
with out at the very least an exorcism in my kitchen.

I now return you to your regularly scheduled programming......

P.S. In my defense my son was served pig snout stew in Guatemala. I would never undercook that.

The Grand Tour

2010-07-26T19:25:00.000-07:00

Chapter Three; Destination Love
Reasons for my road trip...
Spend time with Precious and Mom and Dad,
escape the Houston heat and humidity,
take bazillions of photos
AND
the most obvious of all....
visit my sweet Raar and her husband Ninja!

For the record that is Ninjas "fake smile". It's must not be easy when your mother in law takes a bazillion pictures. And also for the record Ninjas real smile is almost as contagiously charming as his laugh...well it's more of a sustained giggle that makes you want to find funny things on the internet and show him just so you can hear it again.
Anyway they had moved into a new apartment and I was anxious to see it.
There is something about needing to get a "visual" when it comes to your children.
When Raar calls me I want to be able to see her in my mind while I hear her voice.
Without having been there it's like my child is floating in space...
or worse....
I imagine MY first married apartment.
I wish I had a picture to show you but
like all nightmares it was never recorded for posterity.
I'm not even sure if it would have actually shown up on film it was so
dark and dingy.
Anyhoo
After peaking at Soldier Summit and winding down the canyon road I was ready to give my first born a huge hug and see for myself her new pad.

Don't you just love the moment of arrival when you haven't seen a loved one in awhile?
That beginning of the vacation butterfly feeling....
Knocking of the door waiting for the fun to begin.

Raar greeted me at the door almost ready but still fixing her hair for my arrival. Road Hog made himself at home right away.

Road Hog looked around while I waited on Raar to finish grooming.

He made new friends quickly while I took the grand tour.
It was so fun to walk through their home
while my daughter showed me each room...
pointing out the little loving touches that have made it into her own.

Feathering her new little nest
with creative ideas and thrifty finds.
What a wonderful young woman she has become...
and it happened so quickly.
From dependent fussy newborn
to
beautiful, competent lady of the house.
From young child furnishing her barbie house
to
young woman furnishing a home for real,
From homesick college freshman
to
a happy and loving wife who loves her life.
Raar,
I am so proud of you..

P.S. These are my two favorite things about your cute place.

The bathroom/laundry room. Love the concept. Since I make frequent trips there maybe I wouldn't forget to change my wash to the dryer hence eliminating the need for re-washing.

The second bedroom dubbed by Ninja and Raar as the "Stupid Room". I think that is because for right now it is a room that has not been formally created into an official room. Everyone needs a stupid room or two.
Raar and Ninja.....thanks for letting me come and giving me the grand tour. I loved it.

Next post and final chapter...
Chapter Four; The Parade
(admit it..you're excited...everyone loves a parade....right Ninja?

ROAD HOG; A PIGtorial

2010-07-17T11:47:00.000-07:00

Chapter Two;
This little piggy went to Utah,
This little piggy came home.
This little piggy had a lot of Sonic,
This little piggy was fun,
This little piggy never cried wee wee wee but kept a smile on it's face all the way home.

Thanks for the memories Road Hog...you were the PERFECT traveling companion.

Eating an Elephant

2010-07-16T09:46:00.000-07:00

Have you ever heard someone say,
when they are overwhelmed by a project...
"How do you eat an elephant?"
The answer being,
"one bite at a time"
Although the idea of eating elephant
with it's ashy wrinkly tough hide
never appealed to me....
I have decided it is the answer to my situation.

I have sat down on at least 5 different occasions to write about my
road trip to Utah with my family.
I had a great time...
I don't want to forget it and I will freely admit that
you were on my mind like mental hitchhikers.
I missed you while I was gone.
(No need to falsely reciprocate the feelings...)
The problem is that I have too much to show and tell
and so with your patience and indulgence I will tell my story in 4 chapters....
Chapter One: Traveling the Winn Way.
I had only one request when I was invited on this road trip.
Well it was more like a demand.
Queen Beds.
I do not like sleeping with other people.
Even Mr. T and I have a strict understanding that when the snoozing begins we each have our own sides.
When the thought of sharing a room with my parents and a bed with my sister came to mind,
I remembered a trip to NYC with my sister and I in a double bed....
Never again!
So in an effort to please the travelers my father set out to find a suitable room at a reasonable stopping point.
Not too expensive..not too cheap ...senior discount....
and queen beds.
When he told us that the room that he booked and paid for (non-refundable) was in Lubbock...
Well Mr. T. burst in to guffaws.
If you get an early start (my dad ALWAYS gets an early start) then you reach Lubbock by about 2:00 in the afternoon.
What would we do...the four of us in a hotel in Lubbock?
I pitched a plan.
Let's do this road trip the Winn Way.
Winn Way Rule #1: If there is anyone in the vehicle that expresses a real interest in stopping to look at something....you stop. No complaining or grumbling from the other passengers.
I know that sounds like an open invitation for driving disaster but it has been one of the best parts of our adventures.
It all started on a grueling two day push from Houston to Salt Lake City.
We were at about the halfway point just outside Fort Sumner New Mexico when we saw a sign touting Billy the Kid's grave 10 miles ahead.
Mr. T. sighed and said, "When I was a kid I always begged my Dad to stop there, but he never did. We were always in a hurry to get to my grandparents in Utah"

I imagined Mr. T. a young boy, dark hair and dark brown eyes, husky build, mind filled with stories and books that he had read about the Old West, wistfully looking out the car window as he passed by the street that lead to the grave of a wild west legend.
"We're stopping then", I declared.
And we did.

The kids who were ages 4, 7 and 9 were a little freaked out by the thought of visiting a grave but I think the gift shop attached to the museum helped out.
And Mr. T....
well he looked like a kid again himself.
And that is how the Winn Way rule #1 began.
And I have seen things that I might never have seen if the final destination had been our only goal.
Someday I am going to devote a post about those stops.
But back to my story....
I thought that I might have a hard time convincing my mom, dad and sister to do the Winn Way
being in a car full of Laucks,
but they were real troopers.
And so stop we did.
Multiple times.
Here a few pics to prove it.

Brenham Texas where the best ice cream in the whole world is made...seriously I know that from experience.

My mom outside the factory. She is the best picture poser in the whole world and stands where ever anyone with a camera tells heMr. Isn't she beautiful!

My dad who loves old cars, hats, and anything free. Here he is standing by an old car wearing his free Blue Bell hat.

I'm not kidding...this is the best ice cream!!!!

Three different Sonics in three different Texas towns.

The courthouse in Gatesville Texas. Teeny tiny town but huge courthouse and prison. This is where I met my road trip friend in chapter 2.

The beautiful Lubbock Temple at sunset.

It had a sun motif....one of my favorite motifs for a temple.

The mule in Muleshoe Texas! He is famous. He was in the inaugural parade for George Bush and was flown to Washington. You didn't think a star of his magnitude would walk did you? Look at Mom clinging for her life to follow the photographers orders. Isn't she a photographic peach?

The world's largest muleshoe...only Mom would get out of the car with me on this one. Okay so I guess they had their grumbling moments.

Where tradition began; Billy the Kid's grave. Don't worry Dad is not in any pain, he is just trying his best "Billy the Kid" impression.

A brand new stop for me and a definite keeper. Only 9 miles off of the beaten track and just breathtaking. In the corner of Colorado outside of Cortez, I fell in love with it. I am bringing Mr. T and the kids as soon as I can. It is an Indian pueblo set on the edge of a canyon with beautiful views and air that smelled so fresh it was like God had just created it.

Overall an amazing journey with delightful companions, people I love who humored my Winn Way and gave me some memories to cherish.
I think I will make them all official honorary Winns.

Next post..... Chapter Two: Road Hog; A Pigtorial.