Please forgive the title. It is a TERRIBLE pun. (My dad would be so proud.)
This morning, I thought it would be fun to go back through this week/weekend in the last five years. (This is one of the joys of having kept this blog since 2008. When my aged mind can't remember something clearly, all I have to do is go back through ye olde blog and BAM! There it is. ... Assuming the thing I'm looking for is a piece of ridiculousness that would have been chronicled here.)
Anyhoo... Like I said, I thought it would be fun to go back through this week and see what I was doing, when.
And I was right. It WAS fun.
So, I'm going to make it easy for you to do it, too.
March 2009: In which I write about how grateful I was for the "opportunity" to make significantly less money than I had in previous years. ... No, but really. I really was so grateful. I still am, actually.
I am SO grateful for the way my professional life took a turn in 2008. When the bank closed, I needed a job. Any job. Soon. And I found one. (Who's unemployed for less than two weeks? ... Only me. ... I'm still amazed at how quickly and effortlessly that job landed in my lap.) It was my original intention to go back into banking as soon as I could get something permanent. I thought about working for the FDIC, and even interviewed to work on a team that would have been traveling around the country. )How awesome would that have been?!) But something kept me at a call center.
Hello, that "something" would be the Lord. That company had the best corporate benefit package I've ever seen. Their insurance was FABULOUS. I paid $500 out of pocket the year I had my first surgery. That was my surgery, the week in the hospital, 6 weeks of radiation, and countless surgical followups. Seriously. $500. ... I may have been bringing home less, but what I saved in spending on medical costs made up for it.
And my work schedule was such a blessing, too. The first two years I was there, I worked a 3x12 schedule. That's right. I worked 12 hour shifts, 3 days a week. As in, I had a 4 day weekend. Every week. Which gave me time with friends and family that I wouldn't have had otherwise. I was able to spend time with the people that I love the most, and I treasure memories made during those years.
That job was such a blessing. I mean, really.
March 2010: In which I write about having spent the night before at Myra's, watching TV and eating cupcakes.
Ahhhh... Those TV-watching nights at My's house were good times. As I recall, that was the spring that Ken was traveling internationally, so Myra and I would gather for snacks and television with our (okay, my) TV boyfriends (Castle, Dr. Jack and Sayid). Riley was a baby, and she'd stay up late with us, laughing and being silly.
Those were the days of the book club that is no more, the Halloween parties in the Johnsons' backyard, late night conversations about oh... everything we could think of, and weekly recipe shares.
March 2011: In which I write about having gone wig shopping with Cousin Julie, and post pics of myself as a platinum blond.
It was the weekend before #2 came out, and Julie had made her (sometimes) annual pilgrimage to Arizona to enjoy the warm winter weather and some quality cousin bonding time with her cousin who had cancer.
We laughed and we cried, ate too much and slept too little, partied with friends and spent down time by the pool that weekend. And we went wig shopping, because Dr. W had told me there was a real chance I'd have to do chemo after the second surgery and I wanted to make DANG SURE I knew what I wanted, so I could send someone else to the store to pick me up some hair if that was the case.
The Genova Girl is still my favorite, btw. Just in case anyone ever needs to know...
March 2012: In which I write about March of 2011, suppository and all.
True story.
(The post right before this was Jo's birthday surprise of going to see Straight No Chaser - who I love. But this post made me feel more, so this is the link I'm sharing. If you'd rather read about good times than hard times, please feel free to pull up March 22, 2012.)
It's funny to me, how well I still remember that day in the hospital. Out of all the surgeries and hospital stays I've had, that day was probably my hardest day. (That I remember, anyway. Rumor has it that the first day after my last surgery was a DOOZY. Hallucinations and all manner of crazy. ... Poor Judy.) Having just read that post, I'm struck that I didn't think to mention that pretty much every vein in my right arm had been blown, so one of the techs had to bring in an ultrasound machine to find a vein for my IV.
That's right. They had to do an ultrasound to find a good vein. ... No wonder I get a lot of grief from phlebotomists - even now - over the scar tissue in my right arm.
Anyway, that day was hard. So hard, that a year later I was writing a blog post about it. (And three years later, am again referencing it.) But what I learned in that hard day is that the people in my life matter more than the stuff in my life. Even when the stuff is really hard stuff.
That day was hard. It was hard from the get go. That shower was brutal - for so many reasons. The suppository experience was NOT AWESOME. Popping yet another IV wasn't super fun. (I had so many IV's pop in that hospital stay, though, that it wasn't surprising. I swear to you, I looked like I had track marks when I was released.) ... But the thing that made me cry - nay, sob - was knowing that I had a friend in a different hospital, for a very different reason. And the thing that brought me comfort was that Jo and Roomie came - and didn't leave, even though it was ugly.
People matter. A lot. More than anything else. ... And I'm so grateful for the people in my life.
March 2013: In which I write about singing/crying through a hymn in church.
We sang The Lord is My Shepherd last Sunday, and I actually made it through the entire song without dissolving into a puddle of tears. ... I was pretty proud of me. (There's a first for everything, right?)
Which brings us to this week in March, 2014: I had some sleepovers with Jo's kids so she and Dean could go to Denver for her nephew's wedding.
Here are the takeaways from having spent two nights and two days with five children and one puppy:
Watch where you step. Puppy poop is much harder to clean up if you step in it (barefoot) and then track it through the entire family room.
Make sure the six year old is wearing shoes before you let her get in the car to go to the park, esp if you know you're going to have to park across the street and walk half a block before you get to said park.
While you're making sure the six year old is wearing shoes, maybe check the three year old for pants. Otherwise, you're going to have both a shoe-less wonder and a kid wearing nothing but a t-shirt and panties out in public.
Don't buy the little kids Jr. Bacon Cheeseburgers at Wendy's. Kids are gross and actually like the cheapie burgers at McD's. Save money. And, more importantly, save the bacon for people who'll actually appreciate it.
When having a Frozen party with multiple females under the age of 10, make sure you bring your own stash of bobby pins. Doing "princess hair" is a must, and sock buns and ponies need a little bit of help to stay fancy while girls are jumping around, singing "Let it Go" at the top of their lungs, waving their arms about like THEY have actual powers and can command the winds and sky.
No, but really... it was a great weekend. I am exhausted, and my body and my spirit are at war (walking around a park, pushing kids on swings and pulling a crying three year old off a stack of rocks - all sans binder - did me in), but it was a great weekend. The older kids are getting to be so much fun. (We stayed up late, watching PG 13 movies after the little girls went to bed.) And the little girls are adorable, even if they are exhausting.
Five years. (Actually, the blog has been going for almost six years. So, please allow me to rephrase.)
Five months of March.
All awesome. ... For different reasons. But awesome, nonetheless.
There have been hard times, fun times and silly times. But they've all be good times.
What was amazing to me, as I walked through the posts in the last five Marches, is that the overriding theme is that of gratitude. Gratitude for the people in my life, for the time I have had with them, for the memories I have been able to make with them.
Life is good. I am blessed.
Showing posts with label feeling nostalgic. Show all posts
Showing posts with label feeling nostalgic. Show all posts
Sunday, March 23, 2014
Sunday, June 16, 2013
Happy Father's Day!
My dad is....
Kind, generous, loving, giving, hard-working, funny (and punny), compassionate, strong, devoted, silly, awesome.
My dad loves...
My mom, his kids/grandkids, round pieces of pie, Blue Bell (and all other manner of ice cream, but esp BB), Jurassic Park, high-tech gadgets, children of all ages, fishing, almond M&M's.
My dad taught me...
How to read, to pick my hair up off the floor so it doesn't jam the vacuum, that it's alright to get weepy over sentimental, patriotic and/or spiritual things, how to make ice cream, carmel popcorn and hot fudge sauce, how a man should treat a woman, to never settle for anything that is beneath me, that it's okay to do/say/be what I want to.
I love my dad. I am grateful, all the time. that he is one of the two awesome people who raised me. He's taught me so much, on so many levels, in so many ways.
Happy Father's Day, Daddio. You're the very best dad I've ever known, and I'm glad you're mine. I love you!
Wednesday, May 29, 2013
I heart my cousins.
Big time.
I do. They're awesome, and I love them!
I was lucky enough to start today with a conversation with my cousin Rachel. (Well, technically, I was "lucky" enough to start my day with a bowl of Shredded Wheat, and I was at the bank by 7:00. But at about 8:00, I got a text from Rachel - I love it when she texts me, because then I know she's by her phone, and will pick up when I call - so I walked outside, called my cousin, and sat right down on the wet grass and talked/laughed/cried with her for a good 40 minutes.)
It was a glorious way to start the day. ... Wet bum and all!
One of the reasons I love to talk to Rachel is that she talks like my mom. (I know, I know. That means she talks like HER mom. Our moms talk the same way - use the same words, have the same inflections. They must be sisters!) This morning, she was telling me a story and said "What's that about?", and sounded EXACTLY like Big Ude. It was awesome!
It's really been brought home to me, in the last month, how incredible the women in my life - the women in my family - truly are. Watching Mark and Rachel go through diagnosis/surgery has been heart-wrenching. But it has also been awesome. It has been awesome to see their strength. It has been awesome to see Rachel's friends and family gather around her. It has been awesome to see my aunts drop everything in their lives, so they can be in Provo.
I love that I found out that Mark was in the hospital because my cousin Julie called me - because our aunt Deb had facebooked her to let her know she was coming back to Utah, and why. It makes my heart happy that Cousin Katie texted me from the hospital when Mark came out of surgery, that Becca texted me from the airport in DC when she was headed to Utah and then posted pics that gave us the first visual of what was going on in Utah, that now that Katie is in the house with the family, she sent a picture of Mark and the girls Sunday night. I'm so grateful for the relationship I've had with Rachel, that it's not weird to her that sometimes I have to pick up the phone and call her when I read her texts. (Or, if it is weird to her, that she picks up my calls anyway.) I feel so lucky that I don't only know these incredibly strong and amazing people - I am related to them!
It is a thing of beauty that our aunt Cindy dropped everything in her life in Cedar and went to Provo when she knew Mark and Rachel (and their kids) needed her. That Debbie was right there at the hospital with Rachel and/or Mark - around the clock - makes perfect sense. Her sister - my own sweet mom - has never left my side when I'm in the hospital. I mean, she's slept on the floor, so I wouldn't be alone in the night.
Service and Love. Those two words encapsulate everything about my mom and her sweet sisters. (And their brothers, too. I don't want to leave John and Keith out of the love-fest!)
I love them. I'm so grateful they're my family.
I'm so grateful for the generations that came before (it has become very clear that the reason my mom and aunts are so darn servicable and kind must be because they learned it from their own sweet mother). I am grateful for my association with my aunts and uncles - all of them. I am grateful for my cousins, for the incredible people that they are - for the relationships I have with them (both familial and friendship).
This morning, I got to spend some time with Rachel. And it was awesome.
On Saturday, I sent a package to my cousin Amy because their baby shower is this weekend. (I might not be able to be at the shower, but that doesn't mean I can't dress that baby girl in bright Laurie-facsimile, ruffled and/or striped outfits!)
Last week, I was trolling through my email, looking for some information and ran across an email from Bethy that made me cry. ... Beth was the first person to send me money last year. As soon as she had an inkling that I needed financial help, she called and asked me for my routing and account number, so she could wire funds - and she gave explicit instruction that I use some of the money she sent to buy something I wanted/eat something yummy while I still could.
Also last week, my cousin Katie posted the following on my FB:
I laughed out loud (and when I say loud, I mean... LOUD) when I read that. I love her!
After Julie was here in March, she sent me the following bullet list of why she likes to come to AZ (she knows I love lists - hopefully, she also knows that I love HER, and she won't mind that I copy/pasted this to ye olde blog):
- I can relax and do nothing.
- We can talk for hours.
- I will learn something new. About myself, others, and the world.
- You tell things like they are.
- You support, build up, validate, and love.
- You have awesome friends.
- It's warm and beautiful.
- For the view of the turquoise pool and pink sky.
- I don't hear "Mooooooooom!" once.
- I get good book recommendations.
- Our conversations run the gamut from spiritual to naughty.
- There's always good food involved.
- Science experiments.
- I can hang out in a towel.
- I feel closer to my cousins through you. I could easily cook with Becca, dine with Brea, watch movies with Amy, etc.
- I love you!
(Our science experiment last time was a blind Oreo taste-test. ... We Ball kids heart science. Big time.)
I love how so many of my cousins are my friends, that they're good friends - people who are involved, if not daily, in the weekly and monthly timeline of my life.
I could tell so many stories, share so many experiences, where these people that I love - these people who are my mother's siblings' children - have blessed my life.
Man alive, I looooove these people! I love them so much that I'm going to blast the www with just a few memories/images of these people I love so freaking much.
This was one of my favorite days. I was visiting Julie. Beth happened to be in the states. (She lives in Jolly Old England.) We went to WalMart for pedicures (because we're super fancy like that) and ran into two aunts and four cousins. (Truth be told, they heard my laugh. That's right. Over the din of the Utah County WalMart, they heard my laugh. And they found me. ... As in, the laugh led them to me. How awesome is that?!)
L to R: Becca, Rachel (with Shelly), Katie, Bethy (Baby Nate?), Jule, me, Robby
Here's another fun day. This is Julie, Nikki and me - wedding dress shopping. (Yes, one of us was recently engaged and planning a wedding. No, it sure wasn't me!)
Grammy and Grandad's house. 1988. Watching Singing in the Rain. :-)
Lindsay, Nikki (with Amy on lap), me (with Becca on lap) and Rachel.
I actually remember this day. Which isn't that weird, considering I was 14. I doubt anyone else will remember it, though. (Keep reading. Upon later conversation with Becca, she thinks she might remember this day, too.)
In case you wondered what my actual favorite picture of the three of us looks like (circa 1978):
A rare sighting of children PLAYING UPSTAIRS at G&G's:
(That would be me and Nikki. How cute is she? Loooove the piggies!)
Jule and me. Summer of '95. Roaring 20's Murder/Costume Party.
This is in my grandparents' house. Uncle John was magical. (He still is, actually.) This is the penny trick. Christy is in the back. Julie is the kid looking up at her dad. I am in yellow, on the far right.
How sweet is this?
That's Greg and me. April 1976.
Below, L to R: Doug, Greg, Julie, Me. Summer, 2011.
This weekend was the first time I'd seen Greg in... I don't know that either of us could actually remember how long.
The four of us were in the same ward for YEARS when we were in our 20's. (G&D were roommates. So were Julie and I.) Grammy and Grandad were still in Provo, and we'd get phone calls inviting us up to the house to help Grammy "clean out the fridge" (eat leftovers) and then Grandad would cut us a square of ice cream and we'd eat it either at the kitchen table or on the flower couch. (Because we were grownups and could be trusted with such things.)
We would borrow VHS tapes of old movies and chain-watch them together. (The first time I ever saw The King and I was at Greg's apartment. It was Grammy's tape. Greg had borrowed it, and called to ask if we wanted to come over and watch it with him. That was the first year I lived in Provo. We made so many memories that year. ... Oh, and the next four or five, too.)
The boys camped out (yes, camped - overnight) at the old University theater to get tickets for the re-release of Star Wars. The deal was the the boys would sleep over to get the tickets, and then Julie and I would camp out at the theater, to make sure we had good seats when the movies started. I'm pretty sure we saw the midnight showing of all three Star Wars movies - on opening day/night. (And we had good seats every time.) I worked across the street from the theater, so I'd walk over as soon as I got off work and set up camp. Julie would come and bring dinner. We'd play games and talk and laugh - and eat - for hours. The boys were always firm that WE had to camp out to get seats - but they'd always show up by 8:00 and spend the next several hours sitting, talking, eating, and/or playing Phase 10 with us. Sometimes their roommates would come with, sometimes it was just us. One night, we ate three quarts of ice cream, sitting cross-legged on the sidewalk, passing the carton of Baskin Robbins from cousin to cousin. ... I'm pretty sure Julie and Doug both ate 4 Big Macs the night we saw Empire Strikes back.
We had some good times. I mean... a lot of them!
Again, summer of 2011. This is (duh) me, Lindsay and Julie.
Do you love how short I am next to my cousins? I do! (And I was wearing 2 inch heels in this pic!)
Here's a fun one of ... well ... a lot of us, but mostly Becca and me:
I texted a copy of this to Becca, and this is what she sent me back,
"Oh my gosh!! I love it! And I LOVE your side ponytail!!! One of my most vivid memories of you was probably from around that same time period. I was sitting on your lap at Grammy's on the green spinny chairs and you were laughing so hard that you threw me off your lap and ran to the bathroom so that you didn't pee your pants!"
That's right, kids. I've been peeing my pants for over 20 years. I'm awesome like that.
Our grandparents had a two story house, with a basement full of extra rooms. A huge family room, a kitchen, two bathrooms and three bedrooms were downstairs... Well enough room for visiting families to co-habitate for a week or two in the summers.
The "big" bedroom downstairs had a king-sized bed in it. Next door, there was a room with two twin beds. One summer, the twins and I wanted to stay together - but no one wanted to sleep on the floor. So, we found a way to make it work. For a week. (I vividly remember listening to the Dirty Dancing soundtrack. Over and over again. We were three teenage girls who could not believe that Patrick Swazye could sing AND dance!)
Behold:
In the summer of '89, Debbie and Cindy came to Taylor with their kids. (How can I tell what year this was taken? The super sweet Coppertone T-shirt is a dead giveaway. This was my PE shirt my freshman year. Super awesome style sense I had, no?)
Here I am with two of my favorite girls:
And here's a whole bunch of us on the grass:
Ahhhh... Here's another fun one. Disneyland, September 2007.
I had gone with several girlfriends for a long weekend. We were standing in line to get some hamburgers, when I heard an incredulous "Cousin Laurie?!" behind me.
Now, I wasn't surprised to hear my name in Disneyland... I have a family of cousins who live in the area, and stranger things have certainly happened. (See above for story of running into my Disneyland cousins in the Orem WalMart.) What surprised me was that the person calling my name was Doug, who lives in Utah. He and Dana had taken the kids to CA. Neither of us had any idea the other was in the park. The CB Gals and I had happened to walk into the restaurant at the same time Doug and Dana were getting ready to leave. (It's true, what they say: Disneyland really IS the happiest place on earth!)
Back to G&G's...
ELBOW BALL!
(Elbow Ball, btw, is now an absolute impossibility for my sad body. A huge part of my physical therapy after my last surgery was lying on my stomach - in an elbow-ball-esque position - to stretch my stomach muscles back out. It's been almost a year since surgery. I can now lie on my stomach, propped up on my elbows - but there's NO WAY that I could maneuver my body to catch/kick/headbutt a ball around. Awh, well. At least I have the memory of Elbow Ball to keep me warm at night. This, along with freeze tag and croquet, were the staples in summertime fun at Grammy's.)
I love these kids.
I love that I have pictures with my cousins that are over 30 years old. I love that I also have pictures with my cousins that are no more than 3 months old.
I'm so grateful that so many of my earliest, childhood, friends have seen me into adulthood. I am a blessed, blessed woman!
These people make me happy that Families ARE Forever! ... I mean, super duper happy.
These people make me happy that Families ARE Forever! ... I mean, super duper happy.
Sunday, November 4, 2012
November 4
A couple weeks ago, when I was pseudo-preparing my workshop talk(s), I spent some time trolling through my blog, confirming dates and looking up data. I found some seriously awesome stuff.
I hope that doesn't sound too full of myself. (Who's kidding who? Anyone who's read half a dozen posts here knows that it's all pretty much about me.) But seriously, these posts are AWESOME. From posts of gratitude about specific prayers having been answered, to photographic evidence of tumors past, there's some pretty fun stuff archived here, folks.
I thought it would be fun to do a post that did nothing more than link back to some of the oldies but goodies. (Click on the dates and they'll take you to the original posts.) I hope you all enjoy this little trip down memory even a little bit as much as I did.
June 21, 2012 - A comparison/contrast of Tumor Tummy 2010 and 2012
June 12, 2012 - Showcases the growth of my new little friend from June 2 to June 10
July 14, 2010 - Before and afters of my first surgery
June 22, 2011 - Anniversary photo shoot with 22.5 pounds of watermelon
June 22, 2011 - "Pregnant" pic with Jo in 2010, with follow-up of me in the same outfit, 12 months later
I've been writing at this blogspot for four and a half years. Almost half of that time, there have been posts pertaining to - or specifically about - the cancer popping up among random testimonials, book reviews, science project reports and love letters to my celeb crushes. In the last ten months I have written almost exclusively about what it has been like to be sick, to go through surgeries and treatments, about my friends and my family and all of the amazing things that have done for me.
The primary reason I went back through my blog was to verify data and confirm dates prior to speaking about it publicly. (I know that the cancer was in my abdomen, but I swear, sometimes, I think it was in my head. By which I mean: my brain is fried.) What I found as I searched through the past two years surprised me. Were there pics of distorted abdomens and freaky CT images? Yes, there sure were. Reports of hard days, and frustration with both my body and the health care system? Absolutely.
But there was also an overwhelming theme of gratitude.
I surprised myself with what I had written, almost two years ago. To go back to the 12/31/10 post:
I am grateful for my health. I am grateful for where I have been, because I survived it. I am grateful for wherever it is that I am going, because now I know that I am strong enough to go there.
Little did I know, in December 2010, where I was going. (To that same end, little do I know now, where I'll be in 2014.) But I have been strong enough to come this far, and I will be strong enough to keep going, wherever it is that I am supposed to go. Because if there is one thing that I have learned, it is that I will be made equal to whatever it is I have to go up against.
I'm so grateful for the written record that this little blog has been. I'm so grateful for the pictures and the stories and the opportunity this little corner of the www has given me to share my life with those of you who aren't physically here to do this with me. In my home, I am just me. When I write, and when you all read what is written, I have the strength of many.
Thank you for having cared enough to read what I have written, for laughing with me, for crying with me - for loving me. I could not have possibly done it without you.
I hope that doesn't sound too full of myself. (Who's kidding who? Anyone who's read half a dozen posts here knows that it's all pretty much about me.) But seriously, these posts are AWESOME. From posts of gratitude about specific prayers having been answered, to photographic evidence of tumors past, there's some pretty fun stuff archived here, folks.
I thought it would be fun to do a post that did nothing more than link back to some of the oldies but goodies. (Click on the dates and they'll take you to the original posts.) I hope you all enjoy this little trip down memory even a little bit as much as I did.
Pictures:
June 21, 2012 - A comparison/contrast of Tumor Tummy 2010 and 2012
June 12, 2012 - Showcases the growth of my new little friend from June 2 to June 10
July 14, 2010 - Before and afters of my first surgery
June 22, 2011 - Anniversary photo shoot with 22.5 pounds of watermelon
June 22, 2011 - "Pregnant" pic with Jo in 2010, with follow-up of me in the same outfit, 12 months later
Direct Answers to Prayer:
July 9, 2012 - The Miracle of the Poop
June 12, 2012 - The Miracle of the Medical Release
June 20, 2012 - The Miracle of Family Getting Together (Best Medicine Ever)
Fundraisers:
June 16, 2012 - The First and Original Fundraiser of 2012, aka: the day my blog went viral. I wrote a post that was literally read around the world... and the help came pouring in.
July 4, 2012 - The Navajo Taco Fundraiser. A handful of friends of in my hometown gathered together and cooked up a storm... A storm that brought in enough money to replace a full month's income
August 1, 2012 - The Car Wash Fundraiser. A few of my local girlfriends spent a couple hours washing cars in a McDonald's parking lot. Between their hard work, the generosity of both friends and strangers - and one sweet homeless man who emptied his pockets - my rent was paid in August.
September 27, 2012 - People do not suck. The email to Dr. G releasing stats and info from the three fundraisers done over the summer.
Aha Moments and Testimony:
March 3, 2012 - Sometimes peace can sneak right up on a person.
February 13, 2012 - There is a plan. There has to be one. I will accept no other reality.
Because some people are silly enough to think I am always strong and/or brave, I give you some posts about seriously hard days:
February 6, 2012 - Dr. W had told me that there was a special blend of chemo that he thought would work. Many sleepless nights ensued. ... Until I met Dr. H, who advised that surgery was still the game plan. (I heart medically-induced whip lash.)
February 8, 2012 - The day I learned (the hard way) to NEVER leave the house without a bottle of Ativan at my disposal.
May 20, 2012 - One of those (luckily, few and far between) days when the sick and the tired caught up with me.
Gratitude:
August 29, 2012 - A Thank You Note to all the world
June 14, 2012 - It was like EVERYTHING in the world was going right, the week before my last surgery.
July 17, 2011 - My body blows my freaking mind.
February 14, 2010 - Valentine's Day 2010. ... I am pleased to report that the cancer hasn't done much in the way of changing most of the items/people on this list.
December 31, 2010 - New Year's Eve, 2010. Little did I know then that the summer of 2010 was just a warm-up phase. I meant every word that I wrote that night, most especially these:
I am grateful for the clarity that being sick brought me. That which has always been precious to me (family, friends, the gospel - life) has become truly treasured.
I've been writing at this blogspot for four and a half years. Almost half of that time, there have been posts pertaining to - or specifically about - the cancer popping up among random testimonials, book reviews, science project reports and love letters to my celeb crushes. In the last ten months I have written almost exclusively about what it has been like to be sick, to go through surgeries and treatments, about my friends and my family and all of the amazing things that have done for me.
The primary reason I went back through my blog was to verify data and confirm dates prior to speaking about it publicly. (I know that the cancer was in my abdomen, but I swear, sometimes, I think it was in my head. By which I mean: my brain is fried.) What I found as I searched through the past two years surprised me. Were there pics of distorted abdomens and freaky CT images? Yes, there sure were. Reports of hard days, and frustration with both my body and the health care system? Absolutely.
But there was also an overwhelming theme of gratitude.
I surprised myself with what I had written, almost two years ago. To go back to the 12/31/10 post:
I am grateful for my health. I am grateful for where I have been, because I survived it. I am grateful for wherever it is that I am going, because now I know that I am strong enough to go there.
Little did I know, in December 2010, where I was going. (To that same end, little do I know now, where I'll be in 2014.) But I have been strong enough to come this far, and I will be strong enough to keep going, wherever it is that I am supposed to go. Because if there is one thing that I have learned, it is that I will be made equal to whatever it is I have to go up against.
I'm so grateful for the written record that this little blog has been. I'm so grateful for the pictures and the stories and the opportunity this little corner of the www has given me to share my life with those of you who aren't physically here to do this with me. In my home, I am just me. When I write, and when you all read what is written, I have the strength of many.
Thank you for having cared enough to read what I have written, for laughing with me, for crying with me - for loving me. I could not have possibly done it without you.
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
July 25 - Christmas in July
Merry Christmas!!!
(in July)
Many, many moons ago, I lived with my cousin Julie (and our friend Elise, who we called Weez ... if you'd ever heard her laugh, you'd know where the nickname came from) and we would celebrate Christmas in July. Every year, we'd decorate our apartment. Put up a tree, throw garland around the place, make fudge and sugar cookies, watch holiday-themed movies... you get the picture. Every year. We'd have a Christmas party and invite our friends and family. One year we assigned our Cousin (with a capital C) Greg to read from Luke. Another year, I made both homemade eggnog and peppermint ice cream and we had so many friends/family come to the party that it had to go out onto the lawn. The year we lived in the blue house, we had a standing invitation to anyone who knew us to come over on Friday night to watch a Christmas movie with us. We'd publicize the week before what we'd be watching (Holiday Inn, White Christmas, It's a Wonderful Life) and anyone who wanted to come over for sugar cookies and a bit of holiday cheer was welcome.
Our house was a party. Who's kidding who? ... We were a party!
And one of the serious perks of living in Utah was the celebration of Pioneer Day on the 24th. Pioneer Day is a state holiday in Utah, so I'd be off work that day (giving us more time to bake and prepare - Julie was a teacher, so she was off all summer, anyway). ... Also, Pioneer Day was one of the two times a year that fireworks were legal. For the day of, prior to and after the holiday, fireworks were legal. Julie and I used to "carol" with sparklers. Up and down the halls of every complex in our ward, we'd go. One of us would light the sparklers while the other knocked on the door, so we'd be perfectly poised, sparklers in hand, ready to get out one quick verse of "We wish you a Merry Christmas (in July)" before the sparklers burned out. We had it timed perfectly, the singing would end right when the sparkler burned out.
Christmas in July was a magical thing. It's amazing, how easy it is to feel the spirit of Christmas as soon as you start to decorate/bake/watch movies/sing holiday songs. We had a whole lot of fun in those years, and we made a whole lot of memories. Not a July 25th goes by that I don't remember sparklers, peppermint ice cream, sugar cookies, my grammy's jingle bell earrings, and the BYU 3rd Ward. Christmas is too fun to only have it once a year...
And so I say to you, my internet friends... Merry Christmas (in July), and may the rest of your year be glorious and bright!
Monday, April 16, 2012
April 16
Tonight, I had dinner at the movies with my friends Christian and Kelsey.
Yes, you read that right. We had dinner at the movies. ... It was glorious!
There's a theater by my work that's recently been refurbished. It's an older building, but the new owners gutted it and replaced everything. It just opened a few months ago and Christian and I have been meaning to go and check it out. Tonight, we went and saw Mirror, Mirror with Kels. That theater is totally awesome. (And the movie wasn't half bad, either. I was very pleasantly surprised.) The tickets were only $6 (suh-weet!) and they totally serve you dinner IN the theater. (They give you a menu when you purchase your ticket and you can order anything off the full menu at any point during the movie. They just bring your bill when the movie's about to end, so you can give them your card - just like you were out to eat at an actual restaurant.) The food was fabulous and the prices were very reasonable (think Chili's).
I'm a fan. A big fan of this place. And I'm not just saying that because I have such fond memories of the theater as it used to be. (Insert snarky laugh here.)
Yes, folks. This is the theater. As in, the one I ... erm ... "christened" back in February 2008.
For those of you who haven't been following mi vida loca for the past four years, I will repost the story as it was originally typed/posted on the very night that it happened:
Can I get a catheter with that combo?
So, here's another "sad but true" from the life of me...
I'd had kind of a long day at work today, so this afternoon I thought I'd check the local theater for show times and see if there was anything worth watching. You know me, I'd always rather go to a movie than go home after work - and when there's a show that starts at 4:30, I can leave work and get there before the previews are over. It's awesome! (This theater is literally a block up the street from where I work. It's $5 for a matinee, there's never anyone there to fight in line at the concession stand. It rocks!) As luck would have it, Fools Gold started at 4:30 on the dot. SCORE!
I hurried to the theater after work, got my ticket, and... then realized I was probably going to starve to death if I didn't get some popcorn and a coke. (Not to mention, this theater has the best popcorn I've found in a long time.) So, I bought my movie ticket at one end of the concession stand, and then was pushed over onto a kid a few feet away to get my popcorn and soda. Apparently the popcorn/soda kid was a newbie, because he asked if I'd like a medium popcorn and a soda. (Who gets a medium soda? Please.) I said, "no, thanks - I'll take a large drink... and a large popcorn", thinking that a large/large combo makes much more sense when one is having popcorn and a coke in place of a meal - as I was doing. He says "you sure?", I say "yup", and go back to rifling through my purse while the kid makes my dinner. Imagine my surprise when I look up to see, I kid you not, a 64 oz coke and a literal bucket of popcorn being passed to me across the counter. I mean, like... more than a gallon of popcorn. Literally half of what it would take to fill one of those food storage buckets we had growing up. Un-freaking-believable... The funniest part is that when I commented on how "large" the large drink and popcorn were, the kid told me I could come back and get them refilled as many times as I wanted. Yeah, right... as if I could eat/drink that and come back for more. Please.
Gargantuan soda and popcorn in hand, I made my way to the way back theater to see the movie. (Let me draw you a picture - this theater is one of those old-school-sprawled-out-multi-plexes. You know, the really old theaters that were built to cover a rough city block, back in the day when it was a novelty to show more than 2 movies in one building. I mean, this building is OLD - the theaters are long and narrow, the seats do recline (barely), but the arm-rests don't move. And there are exactly two bathrooms in the entire establishment. One for the boys, and one for the girls, located on opposite ends of the building. You're beginning to get the picture, I am sure.) My movie was "to the left", or so the ticket taker told me. He was not kidding... it was to the left. As in "turn left and walk 100 yards" - left. My theater was the very last in the very long row of theaters in a very narrow building. I got into the theater just as the beginning credits were rolling, settled down into the back row, propped my feet up on the seats in front of me (you've gotta love being the only person in an entire theater who paid to see the 4:30 show), positioned the bucket of popcorn and soda in my lap (no cup holder in the arm rest) and sat back, ready to enjoy Matthew McConauhottie in his latest shirtless adventure.
Sure enough, sooner than I can explain it, I'm laughing it up, enjoying the Key West scenery, ogling Matthew, and.... my coke is gone. It's about... oh, I'd say 20 minutes into the movie, and my straw is making that "empty cup" sound. (I know, I can't explain myself. There is something in fountain Coke that just makes me... I don't know, suck it down.) I think to myself "the kid did say that I could have as many refills as I wanted" and consider hoofing it back to the concession stand, but when push comes to shove, I know that I'd be taking a chance on missing Matthew do something unexpected (like drag an anchor across the ocean floor), and I opt to "tough it out", so I just hang out with the bucket of popcorn, and proceed to eat half of that... dry, with nothing to wash it down. (Again - I know. I don't know how in the world I ate all of that.)
About halfway through the movie, I start to get uncomfortable. In a "gosh, I wish they'd do some land shots... all this water is making me feel like I have to pee" kind of way. (Yeah, the water shots/sounds AND the 64 ounces of liquid refreshment I'd downed not half an hour earlier.) Another 20-30 minutes into the movie, and I was literally crossing my legs and concentrating on "not thinking about it", sure that if I didn't think about it, I'd be able to make it through the movie. Ten minutes later (maybe 10 minutes before the end of the show) I knew I had to make a run for it. I grabbed my purse and started the trek to the ladies' room. I got about halfway through the complex (remember the 100 yard walk from the concession stand to the theater I was in? the men's room was right by the concession stand...). When I got to the men's room, it was like my bladder had eyes in the front of my head, and suddenly I realized I was about to lose it. My body could sense that toilets were near, but my mind could not let me walk into the men's room... I looked ahead (I'd made it about half way) to the ladies' room, and thought (unbelievably enough) "if I run, I think I'll make it". (Yeah right, like running when you're about to burst is ever a good idea, but that is what I thought.) And that is what I did. I started to trot, and... as soon as my second foot hit the floor, the dam burst. I mean, burst... I ran to the ladies', all the while peeing a steady stream. Not leaking, not spotting... PEEING. (And laughing, mind you. Kind of hysterically. That didn't help.) By the time I got the the ladies', my pants were soaked to the knees, I had pee splattered on my shoes, and I still had to go! I went into a stall to finish the job... peed for a ridiculously, seemingly impossibly long time, all the while bent over sopping up my shoes with TP and cursing my luck that I was going to have to walk back into the theater and into the parking lot in my state. The worst of it was that I was having guilt pangs about having left my popcorn bucket and coke cup there for the janitors to pick up. I opted to run back to the theater to get my bucket and cup and throw them out, lest my mother ever find out I left my trash for someone else to throw out (forget the fact that her 33 yr old daughter just peed her pants in public)...
I trotted my way back to the theater (a much easier feat on an empty bladder than it is on a full one), caught the last 5 minutes of the movie (standing, mind you... I wasn't going to sit in a public seat in my state, don't you worry about that), took my bucket and cup out to the trash, and... thanked my lucky stars that I'd been in the far left theater - as there was an exit right outside my theater door. I made a mad dash through the parking lot to my car, thanked my lucky stars that it was twilight and thus not quite so obvious that my pants were in such a state... then thanked my lucky stars AGAIN at my foresight in having worn a coat to work this morning (so I had something to sit on while I drove the 30 minutes it takes to get home).
Needless to say, I came straight home, threw my clothes (and coat) in the laundry and myself in the shower.... and then typed this all out for your reading pleasure. :) As horrifying as it is to me that I had an "accident" of such magnitude, I'm so grateful that it didn't happen on a date (can you imagine the horror?), that I had to tell you all about it. I'm going to consider this a lesson learned in moderation - next time I go to the movies and a kid offers me a medium drink, I think I'll take it. Unless, of course, I can get a catheter to go with my large, in which case I might even take the kid up on the free refills.
True story, folks. True. Story. I had to literally upend my ballet flats and pour the pee out of them. (Don't worry, I threw the shoes away.)
The best part about the movie last night was the proximity of the ladies' room to the theater we were in. Knowing that theater as I do, I'd had some concerns that I may have to walk a little too far to get to the little girls' room. Lucky for me (and the girls who were with me, both of whom have known me since 2008 and are well aware of my ... uh ... escapades), the toilets were no more than 20 feet from the door of our theater.
We'll totally be going back. The place has really been spruced up. All new seats. All new carpet. All new staff, none of which know anything about me or my unfortunate episode...
Yes, you read that right. We had dinner at the movies. ... It was glorious!
There's a theater by my work that's recently been refurbished. It's an older building, but the new owners gutted it and replaced everything. It just opened a few months ago and Christian and I have been meaning to go and check it out. Tonight, we went and saw Mirror, Mirror with Kels. That theater is totally awesome. (And the movie wasn't half bad, either. I was very pleasantly surprised.) The tickets were only $6 (suh-weet!) and they totally serve you dinner IN the theater. (They give you a menu when you purchase your ticket and you can order anything off the full menu at any point during the movie. They just bring your bill when the movie's about to end, so you can give them your card - just like you were out to eat at an actual restaurant.) The food was fabulous and the prices were very reasonable (think Chili's).
I'm a fan. A big fan of this place. And I'm not just saying that because I have such fond memories of the theater as it used to be. (Insert snarky laugh here.)
Yes, folks. This is the theater. As in, the one I ... erm ... "christened" back in February 2008.
For those of you who haven't been following mi vida loca for the past four years, I will repost the story as it was originally typed/posted on the very night that it happened:
Can I get a catheter with that combo?
So, here's another "sad but true" from the life of me...
I'd had kind of a long day at work today, so this afternoon I thought I'd check the local theater for show times and see if there was anything worth watching. You know me, I'd always rather go to a movie than go home after work - and when there's a show that starts at 4:30, I can leave work and get there before the previews are over. It's awesome! (This theater is literally a block up the street from where I work. It's $5 for a matinee, there's never anyone there to fight in line at the concession stand. It rocks!) As luck would have it, Fools Gold started at 4:30 on the dot. SCORE!
I hurried to the theater after work, got my ticket, and... then realized I was probably going to starve to death if I didn't get some popcorn and a coke. (Not to mention, this theater has the best popcorn I've found in a long time.) So, I bought my movie ticket at one end of the concession stand, and then was pushed over onto a kid a few feet away to get my popcorn and soda. Apparently the popcorn/soda kid was a newbie, because he asked if I'd like a medium popcorn and a soda. (Who gets a medium soda? Please.) I said, "no, thanks - I'll take a large drink... and a large popcorn", thinking that a large/large combo makes much more sense when one is having popcorn and a coke in place of a meal - as I was doing. He says "you sure?", I say "yup", and go back to rifling through my purse while the kid makes my dinner. Imagine my surprise when I look up to see, I kid you not, a 64 oz coke and a literal bucket of popcorn being passed to me across the counter. I mean, like... more than a gallon of popcorn. Literally half of what it would take to fill one of those food storage buckets we had growing up. Un-freaking-believable... The funniest part is that when I commented on how "large" the large drink and popcorn were, the kid told me I could come back and get them refilled as many times as I wanted. Yeah, right... as if I could eat/drink that and come back for more. Please.
Gargantuan soda and popcorn in hand, I made my way to the way back theater to see the movie. (Let me draw you a picture - this theater is one of those old-school-sprawled-out-multi-plexes. You know, the really old theaters that were built to cover a rough city block, back in the day when it was a novelty to show more than 2 movies in one building. I mean, this building is OLD - the theaters are long and narrow, the seats do recline (barely), but the arm-rests don't move. And there are exactly two bathrooms in the entire establishment. One for the boys, and one for the girls, located on opposite ends of the building. You're beginning to get the picture, I am sure.) My movie was "to the left", or so the ticket taker told me. He was not kidding... it was to the left. As in "turn left and walk 100 yards" - left. My theater was the very last in the very long row of theaters in a very narrow building. I got into the theater just as the beginning credits were rolling, settled down into the back row, propped my feet up on the seats in front of me (you've gotta love being the only person in an entire theater who paid to see the 4:30 show), positioned the bucket of popcorn and soda in my lap (no cup holder in the arm rest) and sat back, ready to enjoy Matthew McConauhottie in his latest shirtless adventure.
Sure enough, sooner than I can explain it, I'm laughing it up, enjoying the Key West scenery, ogling Matthew, and.... my coke is gone. It's about... oh, I'd say 20 minutes into the movie, and my straw is making that "empty cup" sound. (I know, I can't explain myself. There is something in fountain Coke that just makes me... I don't know, suck it down.) I think to myself "the kid did say that I could have as many refills as I wanted" and consider hoofing it back to the concession stand, but when push comes to shove, I know that I'd be taking a chance on missing Matthew do something unexpected (like drag an anchor across the ocean floor), and I opt to "tough it out", so I just hang out with the bucket of popcorn, and proceed to eat half of that... dry, with nothing to wash it down. (Again - I know. I don't know how in the world I ate all of that.)
About halfway through the movie, I start to get uncomfortable. In a "gosh, I wish they'd do some land shots... all this water is making me feel like I have to pee" kind of way. (Yeah, the water shots/sounds AND the 64 ounces of liquid refreshment I'd downed not half an hour earlier.) Another 20-30 minutes into the movie, and I was literally crossing my legs and concentrating on "not thinking about it", sure that if I didn't think about it, I'd be able to make it through the movie. Ten minutes later (maybe 10 minutes before the end of the show) I knew I had to make a run for it. I grabbed my purse and started the trek to the ladies' room. I got about halfway through the complex (remember the 100 yard walk from the concession stand to the theater I was in? the men's room was right by the concession stand...). When I got to the men's room, it was like my bladder had eyes in the front of my head, and suddenly I realized I was about to lose it. My body could sense that toilets were near, but my mind could not let me walk into the men's room... I looked ahead (I'd made it about half way) to the ladies' room, and thought (unbelievably enough) "if I run, I think I'll make it". (Yeah right, like running when you're about to burst is ever a good idea, but that is what I thought.) And that is what I did. I started to trot, and... as soon as my second foot hit the floor, the dam burst. I mean, burst... I ran to the ladies', all the while peeing a steady stream. Not leaking, not spotting... PEEING. (And laughing, mind you. Kind of hysterically. That didn't help.) By the time I got the the ladies', my pants were soaked to the knees, I had pee splattered on my shoes, and I still had to go! I went into a stall to finish the job... peed for a ridiculously, seemingly impossibly long time, all the while bent over sopping up my shoes with TP and cursing my luck that I was going to have to walk back into the theater and into the parking lot in my state. The worst of it was that I was having guilt pangs about having left my popcorn bucket and coke cup there for the janitors to pick up. I opted to run back to the theater to get my bucket and cup and throw them out, lest my mother ever find out I left my trash for someone else to throw out (forget the fact that her 33 yr old daughter just peed her pants in public)...
I trotted my way back to the theater (a much easier feat on an empty bladder than it is on a full one), caught the last 5 minutes of the movie (standing, mind you... I wasn't going to sit in a public seat in my state, don't you worry about that), took my bucket and cup out to the trash, and... thanked my lucky stars that I'd been in the far left theater - as there was an exit right outside my theater door. I made a mad dash through the parking lot to my car, thanked my lucky stars that it was twilight and thus not quite so obvious that my pants were in such a state... then thanked my lucky stars AGAIN at my foresight in having worn a coat to work this morning (so I had something to sit on while I drove the 30 minutes it takes to get home).
Needless to say, I came straight home, threw my clothes (and coat) in the laundry and myself in the shower.... and then typed this all out for your reading pleasure. :) As horrifying as it is to me that I had an "accident" of such magnitude, I'm so grateful that it didn't happen on a date (can you imagine the horror?), that I had to tell you all about it. I'm going to consider this a lesson learned in moderation - next time I go to the movies and a kid offers me a medium drink, I think I'll take it. Unless, of course, I can get a catheter to go with my large, in which case I might even take the kid up on the free refills.
True story, folks. True. Story. I had to literally upend my ballet flats and pour the pee out of them. (Don't worry, I threw the shoes away.)
The best part about the movie last night was the proximity of the ladies' room to the theater we were in. Knowing that theater as I do, I'd had some concerns that I may have to walk a little too far to get to the little girls' room. Lucky for me (and the girls who were with me, both of whom have known me since 2008 and are well aware of my ... uh ... escapades), the toilets were no more than 20 feet from the door of our theater.
We'll totally be going back. The place has really been spruced up. All new seats. All new carpet. All new staff, none of which know anything about me or my unfortunate episode...
Friday, December 23, 2011
Homeward bound
I'm headed home this afternoon, and this is one of the first things I'll see:
Aren't those stockings beautiful? My mother sewed (and embroidered) them with her own two hands. They've hung in the same place, on the same wall, my entire life and I love them.
Across from the stockings, right between the window and the door, we have this crazy clock:
It's funny enough that my mom's Mickey clock is the clock in the living room. (You know, the "nice" room that we reserve for company.) But at Christmas, Mickey steps it up a notch and wears a Santa hat. All the ornaments around him are cut-outs of pictures of us cute kiddos at Christmastime throughout the years.
The wall to the right of the wall covered in stockings is what we lovingly refer to as The Wall of Christmas Pix:
Isn't that great? Those are 5x7 frames full of pictures of the eight of us (my parents and all six kids) at varying ages and stages at Christmas-time. There are over 30 pictures in all, and I love them, because every single picture is a memory.
Just to the left of The Wall of Christmas Pix is the freezer. On top of the freezer are the Milk Dud boxes:
I don't even know how old these little guys are. ... They're older than me, this I know. They may be from before my parents were married, even. I don't even know. But how cute are they? I love them!
As you walk into the kitchen, this is the view:
Every cupboard (every space, really) is covered with a decoration. Some of them, my mom made the first year my parents were married. Some of them, Spencer made in high school art. Some of them have babies' scribbles on them. They are all familiar. I love my mom's kitchen, all the time, but at Christmas? I love it even more!
I wish I could show you every room in the house. I'm not kidding when I tell people that our house is a little Griswold-esque. And this would be why:
This is the woman behind the madness that is a Christmas decoration on every cupboard, the mother who lovingly sewed our stockings and photographically documented every moment of our childhoods. She is exactly the kind of gal who'd make herself an electric vest out of paper bags, Christmas lights and masking tape and then plug herself in and go to a party.
She is my mom. She made everything fun when I was little. She continues to make everything fun now that I am big. Christmas is Christmas, wherever I am, but it's a whole heck of a lot more fun when I am with her than it is when I am not. And today, I am homeward bound. Let the good times (and memories) begin!
Aren't those stockings beautiful? My mother sewed (and embroidered) them with her own two hands. They've hung in the same place, on the same wall, my entire life and I love them.
Across from the stockings, right between the window and the door, we have this crazy clock:
It's funny enough that my mom's Mickey clock is the clock in the living room. (You know, the "nice" room that we reserve for company.) But at Christmas, Mickey steps it up a notch and wears a Santa hat. All the ornaments around him are cut-outs of pictures of us cute kiddos at Christmastime throughout the years.
The wall to the right of the wall covered in stockings is what we lovingly refer to as The Wall of Christmas Pix:
Isn't that great? Those are 5x7 frames full of pictures of the eight of us (my parents and all six kids) at varying ages and stages at Christmas-time. There are over 30 pictures in all, and I love them, because every single picture is a memory.
Just to the left of The Wall of Christmas Pix is the freezer. On top of the freezer are the Milk Dud boxes:
I don't even know how old these little guys are. ... They're older than me, this I know. They may be from before my parents were married, even. I don't even know. But how cute are they? I love them!
As you walk into the kitchen, this is the view:
Every cupboard (every space, really) is covered with a decoration. Some of them, my mom made the first year my parents were married. Some of them, Spencer made in high school art. Some of them have babies' scribbles on them. They are all familiar. I love my mom's kitchen, all the time, but at Christmas? I love it even more!
I wish I could show you every room in the house. I'm not kidding when I tell people that our house is a little Griswold-esque. And this would be why:
This is the woman behind the madness that is a Christmas decoration on every cupboard, the mother who lovingly sewed our stockings and photographically documented every moment of our childhoods. She is exactly the kind of gal who'd make herself an electric vest out of paper bags, Christmas lights and masking tape and then plug herself in and go to a party.
She is my mom. She made everything fun when I was little. She continues to make everything fun now that I am big. Christmas is Christmas, wherever I am, but it's a whole heck of a lot more fun when I am with her than it is when I am not. And today, I am homeward bound. Let the good times (and memories) begin!
Monday, August 8, 2011
Variation on a theme
I've told you how much I love barns, right?
I do. I love them!
I always love barns. It doesn't matter where I see them - on the side of the freeway, driving through a small town in Utah, in period/retro pieces of art and/or puzzles. (All true examples of where I've seen and loved barns.)
But my favorite barns are the barns from my childhood.
Check this out. It's in my Top 5 Favorite Barns of All Time. Why? Because I totally used to sneak into it and play for hours on end when I was little.
Yup, I said "sneak into it". I was totally not allowed to play in this barn. My mom didn't know I was there, and the owners didn't know I was there, either. Do you see the little door, on the right side, about a third of the way up the wall? Yeah, that was on hinges, and I'd totally open it (with a nail or a sharp stick, if memory serves), throw my school bag into the hay and then crawl/shimmy my way up the wall of the barn, then I'd throw myself into the barn and disappear from sight.
The day that the Pearce girls caught me in there was one of the worst days of my life.
It's true. In fact, I may even go so far as to say it's on the list of The Top 5 Worst Days of My Childhood. It was super traumatic. The oldest sister was wearing beaded/braided barrettes in her hair. I remember, because her hair was long and dark and shiny, and with those beaded barrettes, I was afraid she was gonna go crazy on me and scalp me or something, like her Indian ancestors. (The irony? She was caucasian. I don't think she had an ounce of Navajo blood in her. But her hair was long and dark and shiny, and her barrettes were of a south western motif and I had a pretty powerful imagination - as I'm sure you can imagine.)
Anyway, I had to stop playing in the barn after that day. (The thought of possibly being scalped is a scary and motivating thing for a girl who freaks out over the sight of blood.) But I never stopped loving the barn.
Here's another pic from a different angle.
Ahhh... Weathered barn wood with ivy crawling up the side. Does it get better than that? I think not.
Home. Barns. Memories of the day that I literally (okay, figuratively) escaped with the hair on my head. ... I love them all.
I do. I love them!
I always love barns. It doesn't matter where I see them - on the side of the freeway, driving through a small town in Utah, in period/retro pieces of art and/or puzzles. (All true examples of where I've seen and loved barns.)
But my favorite barns are the barns from my childhood.
Check this out. It's in my Top 5 Favorite Barns of All Time. Why? Because I totally used to sneak into it and play for hours on end when I was little.
Yup, I said "sneak into it". I was totally not allowed to play in this barn. My mom didn't know I was there, and the owners didn't know I was there, either. Do you see the little door, on the right side, about a third of the way up the wall? Yeah, that was on hinges, and I'd totally open it (with a nail or a sharp stick, if memory serves), throw my school bag into the hay and then crawl/shimmy my way up the wall of the barn, then I'd throw myself into the barn and disappear from sight.
The day that the Pearce girls caught me in there was one of the worst days of my life.
It's true. In fact, I may even go so far as to say it's on the list of The Top 5 Worst Days of My Childhood. It was super traumatic. The oldest sister was wearing beaded/braided barrettes in her hair. I remember, because her hair was long and dark and shiny, and with those beaded barrettes, I was afraid she was gonna go crazy on me and scalp me or something, like her Indian ancestors. (The irony? She was caucasian. I don't think she had an ounce of Navajo blood in her. But her hair was long and dark and shiny, and her barrettes were of a south western motif and I had a pretty powerful imagination - as I'm sure you can imagine.)
Anyway, I had to stop playing in the barn after that day. (The thought of possibly being scalped is a scary and motivating thing for a girl who freaks out over the sight of blood.) But I never stopped loving the barn.
Here's another pic from a different angle.
Ahhh... Weathered barn wood with ivy crawling up the side. Does it get better than that? I think not.
Home. Barns. Memories of the day that I literally (okay, figuratively) escaped with the hair on my head. ... I love them all.
Friday, August 5, 2011
Today's Top 10
The Top 10 Reasons Why I Love Being at Home:
10. Sleeping with the window open
9. The combined sounds of crickets chirping and ball games at night
8. Bits' slices
7. Night is black (and my parents live on one of the best lit streets on town)
6. Trapper's pie is only a phone call away
5. There are 4 cartons of ice cream in the freezer at any given time
4. I can't leave the house without running into people I know (and love!)
3. Chips and salsa is a valid (and popular) meal choice
2. Quoting movies with Mom and Dad
1. Barns
I'm not even kidding. I love barns. I love the old wood, the history, the falling-down-ness of them (and that the owners just kind of let them fall apart instead of tearing them down and rebuilding, there's something beautiful in that),
This is one of my favorites. Check out the wood jointing. Isn't that beautiful? I've loved this barn my whole life, and it seriously only gets better with age. ... The way the sky shows through the slats in the ceiling, where the roof has fallen? Gorgeous!
I love being home!
I think I'll go have some ice cream now. (Blue Bell's Summer Berries is the latest, and possibly greatest, love of my life.)
10. Sleeping with the window open
9. The combined sounds of crickets chirping and ball games at night
8. Bits' slices
7. Night is black (and my parents live on one of the best lit streets on town)
6. Trapper's pie is only a phone call away
5. There are 4 cartons of ice cream in the freezer at any given time
4. I can't leave the house without running into people I know (and love!)
3. Chips and salsa is a valid (and popular) meal choice
2. Quoting movies with Mom and Dad
1. Barns
I'm not even kidding. I love barns. I love the old wood, the history, the falling-down-ness of them (and that the owners just kind of let them fall apart instead of tearing them down and rebuilding, there's something beautiful in that),
This is one of my favorites. Check out the wood jointing. Isn't that beautiful? I've loved this barn my whole life, and it seriously only gets better with age. ... The way the sky shows through the slats in the ceiling, where the roof has fallen? Gorgeous!
I love being home!
I think I'll go have some ice cream now. (Blue Bell's Summer Berries is the latest, and possibly greatest, love of my life.)
Thursday, July 28, 2011
These are a few of my favorite things...
Yup, the title of this post totally made me burst into song. (You know me so well.)
Here are some fun pics that bring me joy. The kind of joy that only comes from seeing things that remind me of my grandparents, of my childhood, of "cousin bonding" in the back room at Grammy's, of the smell of Dial soap and the taste of Tin Roof Sundae ice cream.
Does anyone know who made these? They're in Kathy's bathroom, but in the back of my head, I'm thinking Cindy made them at a Homemaking meeting. Any of my favorite aunts want to take a stab at where this came from?
Ahhh... the label maker. It's a thing of legend in the Ball family.
More label-made magic. (I love Grandad!)
Whom among us doesn't love the tissue paper flowers? They're one of my earliest memories, and I was super happy to see them again.
I so spun in the chairs. Bwuah-ha-ha...
I love the memories that all of these things bring back to me. I love my grandparents, and I love my cousins and I'm so grateful for all the funny and quirky things that we have in common because our grandfather was a label maker and our grammy didn't want us to spin in chairs or touch the pole.
Here are some fun pics that bring me joy. The kind of joy that only comes from seeing things that remind me of my grandparents, of my childhood, of "cousin bonding" in the back room at Grammy's, of the smell of Dial soap and the taste of Tin Roof Sundae ice cream.
Does anyone know who made these? They're in Kathy's bathroom, but in the back of my head, I'm thinking Cindy made them at a Homemaking meeting. Any of my favorite aunts want to take a stab at where this came from?
Ahhh... the label maker. It's a thing of legend in the Ball family.
More label-made magic. (I love Grandad!)
Whom among us doesn't love the tissue paper flowers? They're one of my earliest memories, and I was super happy to see them again.
I so spun in the chairs. Bwuah-ha-ha...
I love the memories that all of these things bring back to me. I love my grandparents, and I love my cousins and I'm so grateful for all the funny and quirky things that we have in common because our grandfather was a label maker and our grammy didn't want us to spin in chairs or touch the pole.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Never were there such devoted sisters
This is my seester and me, circa 1992. (We were 17 and 5.) I love this pic.
Katie came to see me this week. I had her for almost a full 48 hours, and it was super fun. We laughed, we cried, we talked, we watched movies, we ate crappy food, we ate good food, we drove around, we shopped, we slept and we made merry. I love her!
Here are a couple funny stories from the past coupla days. (I tell you, my sister makes me LOL.)
We'd gone to Costco with our friend Jo and we were talking about dating, and I was expressing some concerns that I have about meeting anyone while I'm in the middle of these stupid radiation treatments. Jo was telling me that I shouldn't stop being social, just because I have this other thing going on on the side, that I'm still me, even if I can't eat normal food or do anything outlandish. My stance was that if I met anyone who was recovering from a summer full of surgery and cancer treatments, I'd be freaked the hell out that he'd gotten scared by the cancer and was just trying to find someone NOW, so he wouldn't die alone. ... Anyway, we went back and forth about the subject while Kate just watched and listened. It culminated in me saying that if I met someone right now and the cancer situation/role was reversed, I'd be thinking red flag. Jo told me that I need to retire some of my red flags, that that's just ridiculous. I was all "no freaking way, a red flag's a red flag". This is when Katie came in with "Laur, I swear, you're more like a literary character than a person, sometimes." Then she stood up and said "Come on, Elizabeth Bennet, let's go."
Hahahaha... I had to laugh out loud. The kid is hilar.
While at Costco, we had some hockdogs for lunch. (Seriously, $1.50 for a hotdog and a coke? I love that place!) While I did really enjoy my hockdog at the time, I was more than a little sick to my stomach for the rest of the day (I tell you, they're BIG). As Katie and I were on our way to my radiation treatment, I was whining about my stomach hurting and I said "eating that whole hockdog was the wrong choice". Kate's reply? "This is why you need to get your CTR ring resized." ... Right, like wearing a CTR ring is really going to help me choose the right when it comes to what I should eat for lunch. (I took my rings off before surgery, so nothing would happen to them while I was in the hospital. By the time I got back home and went to put them on, my fingers had shrunk and they didn't fit anymore. Consequently, I'm making bad food choices. Or so I hear.)
I do love my little sis. She's a sweet girl. She's super funny. She makes me look short. No one hugs me like she does. I can't imagine my world without her.
Thanks, Moo, for coming down - and for staying an extra night. (Sorry about the fact that I couldn't center a pic of us to save my soul. I need to hone my self-photography skills, clearly.)
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
For my cousins - name that fabric
*Disclaimer: I know, I look more than a little like a bottle of Aunt Jemima syrup in this pic. It was the apron I was going for when the photo shoot took place, so I moved my arms back and out of the way. Who knew that act was gonna make me look like a giant, full color, life-sized bottle of mapley goodness? I mean, who knew?!
Aunt Jemima aside, it's the apron that's the focus here. Why? Because I am a braggart. I have a new apron, and I had to show it off my cousins. I'll give 117 Cousin Points to the first family member who correctly guesses the origin and age of the fabric here. (And Julie doesn't count as an entry, because she made me this fabulous thing, and knows exactly where the floral beauty came from.)
Here's a hint: I've been instructed to sing "Do, Re, Mi" whenever I wear it (which I have done, thankyouverymuch), as that's the song you sing when you wear clothes made out of these.
... And now I'm oddly wanting to watch The Sound of Music and have a sing along. I think I will. Singing is good exercise for my diaphragm - and we all know that my stomach muscles need all the help they can get these days.
So long, farewell, Auf Wiedersehen, adieu (for now, anyway).
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Another pic of my "favorites" & me
Okay, so I realize that this is only going to be funny if you knew my grammy, but I still have to tell you that when I typed the original title for this post, I typed "Another shot of me and my favorites", I heard a little voice in my head asking "are your favorites mean?". Ha! My mom's mom would ask me, every time I used incorrect sentence structure and put myself before the other subjects, if I really thought they were mean. Some examples:
Me: Grammy, can me and Beth have a popsicle?
Grammy: (with a short gasp) Is Beth mean? Why would you want to share a popsicle, if she's mean?
Me: Grammy, can me and Kirk watch a movie?
Grammy: Why would you want to watch a movie with Kirk if he's mean to you?
Me: Grammy, can me and Spencer play in the front yard?
Grammy: I don't understand why you'd want to play with a mean little boy, even if he is your brother.
So, of course, I changed the structure of the title, because my "favorite" aunts are so very far from mean. In fact, they're pretty much the exact opposite of mean. They're nice. (Super nice, in fact.) Behold, they took me for my very first post-operative eating out adventure.
We went to Red Robin, because I love both their fries and their Cobb Salad. (I split the salad with my mom and ate half of Debbie's fries.) It was a pretty perfect night. I love them (even more than I love Cobb Salad and steak fries, which is a lot of love).
Me: Grammy, can me and Beth have a popsicle?
Grammy: (with a short gasp) Is Beth mean? Why would you want to share a popsicle, if she's mean?
Me: Grammy, can me and Kirk watch a movie?
Grammy: Why would you want to watch a movie with Kirk if he's mean to you?
Me: Grammy, can me and Spencer play in the front yard?
Grammy: I don't understand why you'd want to play with a mean little boy, even if he is your brother.
So, of course, I changed the structure of the title, because my "favorite" aunts are so very far from mean. In fact, they're pretty much the exact opposite of mean. They're nice. (Super nice, in fact.) Behold, they took me for my very first post-operative eating out adventure.
We went to Red Robin, because I love both their fries and their Cobb Salad. (I split the salad with my mom and ate half of Debbie's fries.) It was a pretty perfect night. I love them (even more than I love Cobb Salad and steak fries, which is a lot of love).
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
A few of my favorite things...
Well, lookie there... It's a post that's NOT a Christmas song. (I know, weird. But it's true.)
I've been sitting here in my little house for the last 48 hours (something about having a viral infection - and a red/swollen nose that has me resembling Rudolph a bit too much for comfort - that's had me holed up, away from the general public), and while I've been sitting here, I've been looking around me and I've been grateful for all the little things in my home that remind me of the people and this season that I love so much. So... I decided to share - even if it is going to out me to my cousin for having her decorations a full 12 years after she got married and moved out on me.
These would be those very decorations. These shiny "Christmas Balls" that are actually candle holders. I love them! They were Julie's, and we always had them up in our house - for Christmas in July, and Christmas in December. The first Christmas after she got married, I was unpacking and putting up decorations in my house and I ran across them. I knew I needed to tell her that I had them... but I didn't. And when I moved back to Arizona, Christmas of 1999, I thought I should leave them out so I could return them before I left the state of Utah with them... but I didn't. And I've put them out every year since then and I've loved them. (Before any of you judge me too harshly, let me just say she has some of my baby clothes - that she's never returned. So, we're even.)
I've been sitting here in my little house for the last 48 hours (something about having a viral infection - and a red/swollen nose that has me resembling Rudolph a bit too much for comfort - that's had me holed up, away from the general public), and while I've been sitting here, I've been looking around me and I've been grateful for all the little things in my home that remind me of the people and this season that I love so much. So... I decided to share - even if it is going to out me to my cousin for having her decorations a full 12 years after she got married and moved out on me.
These would be those very decorations. These shiny "Christmas Balls" that are actually candle holders. I love them! They were Julie's, and we always had them up in our house - for Christmas in July, and Christmas in December. The first Christmas after she got married, I was unpacking and putting up decorations in my house and I ran across them. I knew I needed to tell her that I had them... but I didn't. And when I moved back to Arizona, Christmas of 1999, I thought I should leave them out so I could return them before I left the state of Utah with them... but I didn't. And I've put them out every year since then and I've loved them. (Before any of you judge me too harshly, let me just say she has some of my baby clothes - that she's never returned. So, we're even.)
I love this nativity. Jo gave this to me the first year I was down here - and I love it. Funny, the other nativity I own is also from Jo. ... I guess she's always been one for reminding me of the reason for the season. Bless her.
I love this felt Noel sign. My mom made this .... Oh, I don't even know how long ago. I've had it every Christmas since my first Christmas away from home. (1994) I grew up with felt Noel decorations - this is one version of many that Mom would make and give to friends/family. I love it!
I love this silly little Rudolph! I bought this .... Oh, a good 10-15 years ago from a co-worker at Central Bank who'd make different seasonal decorations and sell them for $10. He's sat atop my vcr/dvd player for over 10 years. I love him!
Speaking of how much I love Victorian era Christmas decor... Check out this little beauty. Colette Bright gave me this the first year I was in BYU 3rd Ward. (1995?) It's a box that doubles as an ornament - and in the box, I still have the note that Colette put in there almost 15 years ago. Le Sigh ... I love that I've had this for almost half my life!
And saving the best for last ... I love these snowflakes. For those of you who haven't seen my tree - it's all red and white, heavy on the snowflakes and bells. My friend Jennifer gave me three crystal snowflakes years ago. I keep them in the Santa box she gave them to me in, and every year as I open the box and pull them out, I thrill. Isn't this beautiful? I love it! I love it because it's so lovely, and I love it because it reminds me of Jen.
Speaking of things that I love that my mom made... Allow me to introduce you to my Christmas quilt. About five years ago, my mom gave me the fabric for the quilt. The next year, she made the quilt for me. It's a thing of beauty. All hand-quilted, reversible - with a Christmas scene on one scene and wintery scene on the other. I love it!
I love this silly little Rudolph! I bought this .... Oh, a good 10-15 years ago from a co-worker at Central Bank who'd make different seasonal decorations and sell them for $10. He's sat atop my vcr/dvd player for over 10 years. I love him!
Ahhhh... One of my favorite things. Ever. This is one of of the Christmas cards I bought/sent out about 15 years ago. I've always been a sucker for decorations of a Victorian nature. I remember buying these cards - I spent way more on them than I should have. I couldn't help myself, they were perfect. Six years ago, my mom gave me this for Christmas. It's the card I'd sent to my grandparents. She'd had a custom mat cut and had it framed for me for Christmas. I've always loved this card - but that I got the card back that I sent to my Grammy and Grandad? I can't even talk/type about it without tearing up. This is, truly, one of my most loved possessions.
Speaking of how much I love Victorian era Christmas decor... Check out this little beauty. Colette Bright gave me this the first year I was in BYU 3rd Ward. (1995?) It's a box that doubles as an ornament - and in the box, I still have the note that Colette put in there almost 15 years ago. Le Sigh ... I love that I've had this for almost half my life!
And saving the best for last ... I love these snowflakes. For those of you who haven't seen my tree - it's all red and white, heavy on the snowflakes and bells. My friend Jennifer gave me three crystal snowflakes years ago. I keep them in the Santa box she gave them to me in, and every year as I open the box and pull them out, I thrill. Isn't this beautiful? I love it! I love it because it's so lovely, and I love it because it reminds me of Jen.
I love having my holiday things about me. I love my wooden star that my brother Kirk made in High School wood shop, I love the Santa statue and "Believe" sign from Kathy U., I love all the pics with Katie and/or Santa that are strewn throughout my apartment. I love my stacks of books full of Christmas music and stories.
Ahhhh.... I LOVE CHRISTMAS!
The End.
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