God Bless Us, Every One!

I re-read A Christmas Carol on the flight home from Utah on Monday. By the time I got to the final chapter, I wasn't on the plane anymore. Rather, I was in a land all my own, sitting in a bedroom created by Charles Dickens, over a hundred years ago. The first (and last) few sentences in the last chapter say it all. (Italics added for emphasis)

The End of It

Yes! and the bedpost was his own. The bed was his own, the room was his own. Best and happiest of all, the time before him was his own, to make amends in!

``I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future!'' Scrooge repeated, as he scrambled out of bed. ``The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me. Oh Jacob Marley! Heaven, and the Christmas Time be praised for this! I say it on my knees, old Jacob; on my knees!''

He was so fluttered and so glowing with his good intentions, that his broken voice would scarcely answer to his call. He had been sobbing violently in his conflict with the Spirit, and his face was wet with tears.

``They are not torn down,'' cried Scrooge, folding one of his bed-curtains in his arms, ``they are not torn down, rings and all. They are here: I am here: the shadows of the things that would have been, may be dispelled. They will be. I know they will!''

His hands were busy with his garments all this time: turning them inside out, putting them on upside down, tearing them, mislaying them, making them parties to every kind of extravagance.

``I don't know what to do!'' cried Scrooge, laughing and crying in the same breath; and making a perfect Laocoön of himself with his stockings. ``I am as light as a feather, I am as happy as an angel, I am as merry as a school-boy. I am as giddy as a drunken man. A merry Christmas to every-body! A happy New Year to all the world! Hallo here! Whoop! Hallo!'

Anyone who knows the story knows that after Scrooge got dressed, he went outside and asked a boy what day it was. ("Today? Why, Christmas Day!") And then he sent for the biggest turkey in the shop and had it sent to Bob Cratchit's, and he met with a gentleman collecting for charity and gave a huge donation ("including a great many back payments"), and then he set out for his nephew's house for Christmas dinner. The next day, when Cratchit got to work, Scrooge sat him down and told him that he needed to make amends, that he was going to give Bob a raise and help him with his struggling family.

Scrooge was a changed man.

Scrooge was better than his word. He did it all, and infinitely more; and to Tiny Tim, who did not die, he was a second father. He became as good a friend, as good a master, and as good a man, as the good old city knew, or any other good old city, town, or borough, in the good old world. Some people laughed to see the alteration in him, but he let them laugh, and little heeded them; for he was wise enough to know that nothing ever happened on this globe, for good, at which some people did not have their fill of laughter in the outset; and knowing that such as these would be blind anyway, he thought it quite as well that they should wrinkle up their eyes in grins, as have the malady in less attractive forms. His own heart laughed: and that was quite enough for him. He had no further intercourse with Spirits, but lived upon the Total Abstinence Principle, ever afterwards; and it was always said of him, that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us! And so, as Tiny Tim observed, God Bless Us, Every One! May we all be better than our words, have laughing hearts, and know how to keep Christmas well. Not just today, but every day. Merry Christmas!

Why I'm not married

There are a lot of theories out there for why I’m not married. Some that I’ve heard:

I am selfish. (This from Jeff West, my mother and most recently some General Authorities of the church in the April 2011 GC address. I’m pretty sure my mom’s mocking Jeff when she says it, I’m not sure about the GA’s.)

I look for offense rather than love. (This from Bryan with a Y (not to be confused with Brian I, Brian II and/or Brian III) – the crazy man who spiraled quickly and violently when I was unable to respond to a series of texts he sent after 10:30 PM (I was asleep when they came in) and he cited this quality as the reason I’d die alone in two texts and one voicemail … Yeah, the second date was quickly and brutally broken the following morning when I woke up to umpteen texts, 7 missed calls and 5 semi-hysterical voice mails from the man. Bless him.)

I don’t want to get married and/or have children. (This from a couple sweet sisters from my current and past wards. How adorable are they for assuming the only reason in the world I wouldn’t have gotten married at the ripe old age of 21 was because I didn’t want a family? … Not the reason, folks, but thanks for thinking that I’d be married if I just wanted to be.)

I don’t wash my face at night before I go to bed. (I heard this for the first time almost 15 years ago. You’d think by now I’d be all about washing my face, just in case that turned the tides, but no.)

I'm too good for what's out there. (This from both Rhonda Hancock and Liz Roberts. ... Out of the mouths of two or more witnesses, or however that goes, is what I have to say about this theory.)

I always have candy. (This from my nephews, ages 5 and 7. I don’t really get the correlation between being the super cool aunt with the ever-present candy bowl and not having a husband, but for some reason I am “The one with the candy – the one who’s not married” to them.)

I’ve never loved any man as much as I love my independence. (This from Clint Horn. What can I say? Too bad that relationship didn’t go long term (or end well, frankly), because - on a lot of levels - that man really got me.)

All interesting (if not downright creative) reasons for why I’m still not married at 36. And all of them, on some level and at some point, probably have some truth to them. But I don’t think any one of those reasons can cover the blanket reason for why I think I’m still single.

What do I think is the blanket reason, you ask? Well, I’ll tell you.

Okay, I'll show you (that's probably easier):



That’s right, Atticus Finch.

Atticus Finch is the reason I’m still single. He’s tall. He’s dreamy (esp when played by Gregory Peck, and in my mind’s eye, he always is!). He’s super smart. He’s the best shot in the county, but he’ll only pick up a gun when there’s a mad dog threatening his kids. He’s principled. He’s honest. He is kind. He is good. He is fair. He’s a good neighbor (an incredible neighbor, really, to everyone on his street, but esp to Mrs. Dubose and Boo). He’s a lawyer and a single father and pretty darn good at both.

I love him.

And there you have it – the reason I’m not married, according to me. It’s the thought of Atticus Finch. So what if he’s a fictional character? For me, he represents all that is good and honorable – and until I find someone who reminds me of Atticus on at least 6 different character points, I’ll stay single, thanks.

My whirlwind week.

I went back to work last Thursday. A week ago. I've been back at work for a week. (Well, kind of. I'm only part-time through the end of the month. Which is a blessing, since I can hardly stand to sit.)

Anyway, I went back to work. And then I proceeded to have one of the busiest weeks of my life. I don't even know how all this stuff came out of the woodwork. I've been swamped, and tired (exhausted, really), but I've also been super happy. It's been a good week.

I'll show you what I did. That'll be fun for everyone, I am sure.

I went and saw this movie:



It was, in a word, brilliant. Seriously, fantastic. (If you haven't read the books, you need to do it now. Because I'm not gonna lie, the book is better. But still, the movie was pretty epic.) Here's a little teaser:



My one complaint was that the Fred thing didn't go down quite right. (C'mon. All I'm asking for is for him to see Percy and to get a good laugh in. That would have added, like, 5 seconds to the film. Is 5 seconds too much to ask? I think not.) Other than missing the Weasely thing by a hair, it was fab. I mean, FAB. I started weeping when McGonagall started the enchantment to protect the school and didn't stop until about 2 days later. (True story. It came up in conversation at Sunday dinner and I started to cry - in a good way - all over again.) One of the most incredible stories of good vs. evil that I've ever read. I'm so sad that it's over, but I'm so glad that the movie was done so well. The ending was exactly perfect.

I weep. (Even now, just remembering.)

The theater was full - I mean, FULL - and people clapped and cheered at all the right parts. It was awesome.

I also saw this movie:



Soooo not a warm & fuzzy, sweet and sappy story about the Mormon pioneers. It was harsh, and it was hard. And that's exactly why I liked it. I liked that they showed that it was hard. It was hard. Really hard. But, with all my heart, I believe that it was worth it. (Also, I want to marry Levi Savage. Too bad I don't look enough like Sandra Bullock.)

I've whipped right through season one of my new favorite show:



Leverage. It's like Ocean's 11 and Burn Notice got married and had 5 criminally-minded con men babies with a Robin Hood complex. I'm in love.

And while I've been waiting for Netflix to send the next Leverage dvd, I've been catching up on one of my all-time favorites:



Sam Axe. I so love him.

One of the best things about the summer of 2010? Surgery took me totally out of commission and before I knew it, I'd missed the first half of Burn Notice Season 4. I opted to not even try to catch up and just buy the dvd's. ... Best. Decision. Ever. Being able to chain-watch 20+ new-to-me episodes of Sam? My version of a good weekend.

I read this book:



And I loved it. So much. So much more than I remember loving it last time. The language is incredible. The imagery is so vivid that the town practically comes to life. The moral lessons (that are taught on so many levels) are life-changing. Ahhhh... Such a good read. If you haven't read it, you must!

And I'm about halfway through this book:



Charles Dickens was the man. I'm so loving this book! (Of course, I'm not allowed to read it at night, because it's a little much for me. But that's ok. I can watch Burn Notice and/or Leverage at night, as they aren't the kind of thing that makes me think about the horrors of being hidden away from the world for 18 years.)

I went to the doctor AND the dentist yesterday on my day off. It was my final follow-up with my surgeon (hopefully, forever). This is how it went down:

The Good Doctor: Do you have your next 90 day scan scheduled? (He cracks me up. Like he thinks I'm ever going to let 90 days go by without being scanned? Hi, I'm the girl who grew a second tumor in less than 100 days. Uh, yeah, I have my next appt scheduled.)

Me: Yup.

Him: *eyebrows raised* (If you've met him, you know this look. It means that he's questioning me. ... I don't know how I know that he's questioning me, mind you, because he has never actually verbally questioned me, but trust me, it was a question.)

Me: My last appt was June 22nd. My next is scheduled for Sept 17th. (Because I am a "bury with proof" communicator, and I felt the need to make sure he knew that I'm taking this 90 day check-up thing seriously.)

Him: Has the oncologist told you what the follow-up will be for the future?

Me: Yup, every 90 days. Forever.

Him: Forever?

Me: That's what I understand. ... Something about how it came back so quickly the first time. They may relax it to every 6 months if I don't have another recurrence in the next 5 years, but for now? ... Every 90 days. Forever.

Him: That's a long time.

Me: I know. (It's the rest of my life in 3 month increments. Seriously - that's a long time.) And it will be expensive. This is why I must always have insurance. ... Or a rich husband. (We've had this talk before, the doctor and I. He knows good and well that the only reason I was willing to go through the abdominal surgery and possible cancer treatments for the second time in 12 months was because I had my own personal fantasy that it was all so I could meet a single oncologist who'd want to take care of me for the rest of my life. ... We all know how that little fantasy played out. Or didn't, rather.)

Him: I know. *smirking*

Me: And you know that I'm not doing a great job of finding a rich husband on my own, so if you could just keep an open eye on the medical community for me, I'd appreciate it.

Him: Sure, sure. (I got half a chuckle out of him. This, btw, is an accomplishment.)

Me: But all you can tell him is that you have this great patient that you think he should meet. You can't tell him that I'm neurotic, or that I make appointments just to come in and ask you questions.

Him: Of course not. *smiling*

Me: Thank you. ... For agreeing to help me find a husband. Oh, and for saving my life. Twice. And for operating on my bum. (Which also saved my life.) And for being a great doctor.

Him: You're welcome.

I love that man. I mean, I love him. If anyone ever needs the name of a surgeon in the greater Phoenix area, you just let me know. I couldn't recommend him or his quirky bedside manner highly enough - and I get compliments all the time (I'm not even kidding) on my scar. (Apparently, he does good work. Every single nurse and/or doctor who's seen my abdominal incision has raved about how clean the lines are.)

So, I've been busy. I've been working, and watching movies and tv shows and doing laundry and eating fudgecicles and getting stuff caught up and put away and taking care of medical and dental needs. I've been a busy little bee, to be sure.

But you want to know what I sure haven't done? You can probably guess.

It's not hard.

I mean, really - it's not a hard guess.

It's basically the easiest guessing game ever played.

Just think of the one thing that we all know that I never, ever do.

That's right. Vacuum. ... Maybe I'll do that next week. (But probably not.)

Yeesh, I'm crazy in the AM!

It's a known fact that I wake up more than a little bit crazy, yes?

This morning was no exception. (In my defense, I'm gonna say that I must have had some kind of dream that brought this line of "reasoning" on. ... And, yeah, I put that words in quotations, because we're using the word reasoning in the loosest terms possible.)

I woke up this morning with the most overwhelming gratitude that I hadn't been born during the Puritan age. Why? Because if I had been, I would have surely died from the tumor. It would have grown and grown and grown until I wasn't able to breathe, and then I'd have died. ... But, worse than the dying was knowing that, before the tumor got so large that it actually choked the life out of me, I'd have been branded with a scarlet letter (listen, I was looking more than a little pregnant right before I had surgery), and that would have mortified my mother. ... And then I remembered that if I'd lived my life with the same timeline, I'd have been 35 before I grew the tumor and we all know I would have been burned as a witch in my 20's - either because a) I'm a stubborn, opinionated woman who has a penchant for speaking her mind, or b) my eternally chubby legs make me the best floater in the greater Phoenix area, and we all know that women who could swim were burned at the stake. (Not that I can swim. I sure can't. But boy howdy, can I float...) So, I guess I wouldn't have had to deal with being a Hester Pryne-alike, since I'd have been burned alive ages before the tumor even started to grow. What a relief!

Honestly.

This is what I thought as I got out of bed this morning and walked to the kitchen to get a drink. These thoughts, in this order.

My word, I'm a crazy woman.

But the good news is, I'm alive. Why? Because the tumor came out. And also because I wasn't born until the mid 1970's, well after the time that women were being burned at the stake for being weird. Phew!

Christopher Timothy Robin

So, here's a funny story for you.

Years ago, when I was working for Ye Old Central Bank, I had the blessed privilege of interacting with a wide variety of tough guys - otherwise known as Wells Fargo Men. (Now they're Loomis, but back then, they were Wells Fargo, and let me tell you, they were a treat and a half.) Because of the size of our coin shipments, both in and out of the bank, we had some real characters who'd make deliveries to and from the bank. One of my personal favorite delivery guys was Thor. (Yeah, Thor, as in the God of Thunder.) Thor was built like a friggin brick wall. I'm not even kidding you. He was just barely taller than me, but his shoulders were, I swear, about 4 feet wide. He had the most incredible square jaw, and the highlight of my week was when he'd make the coin delivery and I could watch him throw quarters. (I know, I'm so shallow.) He could palm a box of quarters, people. It was impressive...

Anyway, Thor. Thor was an amazing specimen of humanity. And he was nice enough, but he wasn't much of a conversationalist. He'd come in, deliver my coin, grunt a hello and/or good-bye, and then he'd be gone for a week. One day, he came in and as I was signing the manifest, he surprised me by asking if I was a fan of Winnie-the-Pooh. Weird, right? This is how it went down...

Thor: So, you must really like Winnie-the-Pooh?
Me: Uhm... I guess. The books more than the movie, but yeah.
Thor: That's what I figured. A. A. Milne's Pooh, not Disney's.
Me: Uhhh... yeah.
(insert awkward silence here - I was so confused as to where this was coming from)
Me: But how would you know that? What made you ask?
Thor: Christopher Timothy Robin (nodding toward my hand)
Me: Huh?
Thor: Your ring.
Me: What?
Thor: C-T-R ... Christopher Timothy Robin
Me: ... silence
Thor: I've never seen a ring like that, so I'm just guessing that's what it stands for.
Me: ... more silence - utter confusion (I mean, we were in UTAH, for goodness sake, land of the CTR ring wearing public, and he'd never noticed one before?)
Thor: Anyway... I just thought it was cool.
Me: Yeah. Well... thanks.
Thor: They're really good books.

And then he left, amazingly enough, never to come back. I still don't know it he was pulling my leg. Never, ever, anywhere in my life, have I seen a reference to Christopher Robin having a middle name. I don't even know where that came from, but it was one of the oddest days in my vault-working life. I looked down at my CTR ring today on my finger and remembered that episode and had a good laugh, and I wanted to share.

Gosh, I love Pooh-bear. I also love random memories. On top of those two things, I love that I have this nutty blog, where I can type this kind of totally random thing, and you read it. (Thank you, my reading public, for indulging me. You all really are the best, ever!)

I really do have the best life ever. ... Now, I think I'll go read something warm and fuzzy before I head to bed. I'm feeling the need for a little House at Pooh Corner tonight.

The Perfect Day

Please allow me to tell you about my day today...

I woke up at 10:30. (Yeah, I woke up at 10:30. Mind you, I was all kinds of drugged up to be able to sleep past 7:00 - I heart Tylenol PM - but the thing is, I slept until 10:30 AM.)

I got online and checked out my online dating options - and then promptly posted a pic making fun of the 5'4" (I am not making this stuff up, it's so good that I don't have to...) beauty that was checking me out this morning whilst I was asleep in bed. (Again, I cannot say it enough - Tylenol PM. It is the best thing ever.)

I had one and a half bowls of Post brand Honey Bunches of Oats with Almonds for breakfast/lunch (I threw the WalMart brand box away last week and life has been so much better since then... never again will I subject myself to store brand cereal).

I grabbed my new book - The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society - and headed to the pool.

And 2.5 hours later, feeling pruny from the pool, toasty from the sun... and awash in emotion (wishing the book could go on forever) ... I finished it. Oh, this is one of the best books I've ever read. It's up there with These Are My Words, folks. I love-love-loved this book! I almost want to read it again - TOMORROW. Oh gosh, it was fab.

Once the book was finished, I had a filling (and uber nutritious, because that's how I roll) dinner of microwave popcorn - then called my friend Myra (who recommended the book, and actually let me borrow her library copy so I could get it read - and soon!) so we could dissect and discuss the book.

Gosh, this has been just about the best day ever. The only (and I do mean only) thing that could have improved this day would be a piece of chocolate cake from Safeway. (And that's saying something.)

I love my life.

Good-bye, Miss C....

My mom called after I got off work tonight to break the news to me. Right after I got off work, actually (and thank heaven she did, because I can only imagine the meltdown of monumental proportions that I would have had, had I had to find out by logging on Facebook and seeing the multitude of status updates dedicated to Miss C).

My high school English teacher died today. And I'm stunned. (I just shuddered, thinking how horrified she'd be if she knew that I started that last sentence with "and", and with her having just passed on, she SO could have seen me do it. I'm kidding - I don't think her ghost is gonna haunt my apartment and read/critique/correct my blog. I'm sure she has much better things to do with her time now, like maybe sitting down and having a one-on-one with one Mr. William Shakespeare.)

I know that most of you probably think it's silly that I would blog about her, that it's sappy of me to post her pic and tell you all that I love her... but the thing is, so much of who I am (grammatically, at least), I am because of her. She read my papers, listened to my adolescent pontifications, and shaped me in ways that no one else could have. She was, in a word, fabulous.

Carolyn Cunningham was one of the wittiest, funniest, smartest women I've ever known. I think of her every time I see the gold embossed 1880 printing of the Shakespeare tragedies I have on my bookshelf, every time I read The Count of Monte Cristo, every year on March 15th when I eat a Caesar Salad in celebration of the Ides of March. She encouraged a generation of Snowflake High School students to read, write, and express ourselves through the written word. I'm so grateful for her influence on my life.

Thank you, Miss C., for loving literature, and for sharing your love of literature with us. You will be missed, greatly.

Here's a result that doesn't surprise me AT ALL.

Which Literary Character Are You Attracted To?

Mr. Rochester

You like Mr. Rochester (Jane Eyre)! He is bitter and mysterious but deeply caring. He tries to protect himself by building up barriers and keeping others away from him.

So, does anyone else think that I definitely have a type? This made me laugh out loud. I'm so easy to peg, esp when it comes to men in print. Like when Cousin Julie told me that I should read Lady of Quality because I would groove on the love/hate banter between the male & female lead. And we all know that I so enjoy the I love you/I hate you of Pride & Prejudice and North & South.

Oh, yeah, I do love me a man with a mysterious edge on him. I so want to read Jane Eyre right now...

A Day for Reading

Oh, how I love to read... Honestly, whenever I'm asked how I'd spend "The Perfect Day", a good book is always involved. I've read most of my favorite books more than once... some of them, literally dozens of times... and The Count is on my list of Top 5 of All Time. I love this book! And yet... I've been struggling to get this puppy read. Frankly, I've been struggling to get anything read lately (sorry, Myra). But book club is tomorrow, and I have 8 women coming to my house to discuss the book I asked them to read. As it wouldn't look good if I was the only one who hadn't read it... I am hereby banning myself from the computer and the tv. That's right - I am declaring this house a Technology Free Zone until I have The Count finished.

But first, I have to share what is, quite possibly, my favorite excerpt so far. This paragraph makes me giddy.

"Now, farewell to kindness, humanity, gratitude," said he. "Farewell to all the sentiments which rejoice the heart. I have played the part of Providence in recompensing the good, may the god of vengeance now permit me to punish the wicked!"

Literally, it makes me giddy. I love how thoroughly kind he is to Morrel... and I love the anticipation of the annihilation of his enemies that is coming.

I read an interesting quote last week to beware those who put The Count of Monte Cristo in their list of favorite books, because it reveals a malevolent streak in their character. Oh, yeah... that would be me. I love Edmond Dantes/The Count of Monte Cristo. The vengeance he wreaks on his enemies makes me weak in the knees. His brilliant mind, his passion for life (and death, and revenge) are DELISH! Seriously, there but for the grace of God go I. (Also, I've never been unjustly imprisoned/left for dead, and there met an old man who told me about an island where there is a secret treasure buried, which I could later use to fund the intricate details of the revenge I spent 20 years planning. Other than that... I'd so be there, with him, planning and carrying out the evil plan.)

Oooh, this is gonna be a great day. I've got my book here on the couch by me. And... I'm off!

IT'S BLUE HAIR DAY!!!

For those of you who don't know my mom, my dad... or my home school district, this is for you. (And, well, it's for the rest of you, too.) I got home tonight and had the cutest/funniest email from my mom. I've decided to post it here, in its entirety, for your viewing (and reading, because "as for me & my house, we will encourage people in their reading") pleasure. Behold, my funny (and fabulous) father...

For the last eight years, Dennis has told his elementary kids that if they read
ONE MILLION MINUTES he would DYE HIS HAIR BLUE!

So again TODAY Dennis told elephant jokes to his Kindergarten to third graders in an assembly
and the kids LAUGHED ~ AND I DON'T MEAN JUST AT THE JOKES!!

They love his "NEW DO!"

He is SUCH A GOOD SPORT!!

Dennis only waited 20 MINUTES before he rinsed his hair in the custodians' sink.
Some years he has left the dye on for 5 HOURS!!

This lighting isn't good, but trust me, HE'S LOBO BLUE!!!
Here's hoping it lasts at least 2 weeks. It generally does.
THE BEST YEAR EVER, IT LASTED 3 HAIRCUTS!!!


OH MAN!! I LOVE THIS GAME!!

AND THIS SMURF!!!

My favorite thing about this crazy thing that my dad does... the man wears his blue hair about town, proud as can be. I love it! I love that he's a bishop, and he has no qualms conducting meetings on Sundays with his "blue do" - for as long as it lasts. He either lets it wash out, or he cuts it out, depending on how strong the dye was. I love that there's a generation of kids that know that he'll dye his hair blue for them if they read. I love that every year, his K-3 school reads over a million minutes (K-3, people... those are some YOUNG kids), because they know what's waiting at the end of that goal for them - and every year, the kids beat their 1,000,000 minute mark from the year before. It's pretty fabulous, right? My dad rocks. And so does my mom, because she goes to the school with the camera and then sends pics out to the fam of Dad being such a cool principal. I'm pretty darn lucky to have them as parents, wouldn't you agree?

PS - Is it weird to any of you that know my parents personally (and/or were around when I was growing up in what was quite possibly The Most Sheltered and/or Censored House of All Time that my mom (my mom) referenced my dad as being a Smurf in her email? We weren't allowed to watch Smurfs... and now, here she is, name dropping them like they were just as common an occurance as can be. ... This is just like when my dad started watching Lois & Clark (the New Adventures of Superman... perhaps you remember this show from the early 90's) and he had to tell me about it, because he thought I'd "enjoy it". (Mind you, this is a good 8 years AFTER the show was off the air and had been doomed to re-runs on USA.) Imagine my surprise that not only had he decided that the show was "okay" (I'd been strictly forbidden to watch it when it was on the air-waves, live) - but now, all of a sudden, he thought is was appropriate family viewing. Which takes me back to my mom letting my sister (who is the youngest, btw) watch Happy Days after school. In my day, we could listen to the intro/theme music, but then then we had to turn it off. Mom didn't approve of The Fonz - she said he was a womanizer (and then she wouldn't tell me what that meant... no worries, I looked it up in the dictionary). Oh, my... how times have changed. Next thing I know, she'll be (gasp) calling herself "Smurfette". What is the world coming to?

Besides running errands and doing 5 loads of laundry...

...I read this book today.

It was tough going there for a while, I'm not gonna lie. Both Tourette's syndrome and OCD are pretty near and dear to my heart, so there were elements and situations in this book that made me want to put it down and never pick it back up. But I stuck with it, and by the end I was incredibly grateful for this family's choice to share their story. I loved how both Hal and Sophia Friedman continued to love and support, as well as care for and fight for their son. I loved that it was Cory's emotional strength and determination to find another way that ultimately enabled him to conquer his body. Bless this family. Bless this boy for having said, when asked if the story could/should be told, "If it will help other people like me, yes."

Tonight I am grateful for people who are brave/strong enough to share their story. I'm also incredibly, ridiculously grateful for the way my body and mind work. Granted, it's not like they're spot on 100% of the time, but when I'm handed something like this book, I realize how incredibly blessed I really am. Truly, really, ridiculously and incredibly blessed.

The perks of unemployment

So far, the perks of unemployment are a) I was able to leave town for a long weekend (have been hanging out at home with the fam since Friday - eating sugar and partying it up pretty much non-stop), as well as b) I FINALLY have time to read. 

This is my bookclub's book of the month - I've known what it was, and have been wanting to read it, since early October - I just haven't had time. Now, thanks to the FDIC, I have time (and nothing but) ... so, in between downing bowls of ice cream and boxes of Sees chocolates with my parents & sister this weekend... I've been reading (and LOVING) this book. 

I'm so grateful for a respite from work, for a long weekend full of fun & yummy food and... for good books. Oh, how I love to read. It's great to have time to do it again!