In the Beginning (part one)

This week Kedar and I are anticipating our anniversary. Twelve years!

I'm feeling nostalgic. Thinking about our courtship gets me feeling all melty and gooey inside. We reveled in spending time together. Getting to know each other and falling in love was blissful. Of course, it wasn't perfect and things got off to a bit of a rough start for us.

Dating was tricky for me when Kedar and I first met. You see, I had a boyfriend who was half a world away serving a two year LDS Mission and I was confused. Just a year previous "the plan" was that I would marry this missionary but I was changing, I was growing and I was losing confidence in "the plan." When the plan you've counted on starts to crumble the future looks full of both fear and possibility and I was firmly planted between the two: not quite ready to let go of the familiar while anxiously standing on the brink of the unknown.

I was home working for my dad for the summer. Spring semester had just concluded and I had recently used "my missionary" as an escape route out of a budding relationship that was quickly becoming stifling. I didn't want the pressure that came with considering the future. "She's afraid of commitment," friends would say behind their hands. I didn't care. I just wanted to have fun with no strings attached. Such was my situation when Kedar found me.

We first met at a friend's house. As the evening came to a close he walked with me out to my car. We talked and laughed and before we said goodbye he asked me for my phone number. The next day he called me and asked me out for our first date.

When Kedar asked me out he was funny and casual: I felt safe. He invited me to dinner at a place that was well known but that I'd never been to. Afterward, we would go rollerblading at a nearby park.

My life marched on for a week. In that time, my search for new beginnings and independence lead me to a pair of sharp scissors. I was left holding 10 inches of my hair tightly tied in a rubber band and wearing a shocked expression on my face.

The day of our date arrived. I went to work that morning wearing holey jeans and a polo shirt with Pro Electric embroidered on the pocket. All day I delivered electrical parts to the electricians employed by my dad's contracting company. I lifted heavy boxes, heaved rolls of spooled wire and rummaged through greasy metal fittings. In between loading and unloading supplies, I sat hot and sweaty in my delivery van, busily making my way from one end of the valley to the other. My last delivery took longer than anticipated and I left for home running late already. Not good.

I briskly walked through the front door thinking I could quickly change and be on my way. But when I caught a glimpse of my disheveled self in the mirror and a whiff of my own pungent aroma as I ran down the hallway, it became apparent that a quick change wasn't going to cut it. I hopped in the shower scrubbed and rinsed as quickly as I could. I dressed with lightening speed but came to a screeching halt in front of the mirror. I stared in dismay as my newly cut hair dripped languidly. Since cutting it a few days earlier, I had no idea what to do with it.

I grabbed the blow dryer and frantically tried to straighten my unruly curls. As I raked the round brush through my hair I glanced at the clock. I was supposed to meet Kedar in 20 minutes. The drive to our meeting spot would take 30 minutes...if I was fast. I finished my hair in record time and looked at my reflection again. Frustrated, I knew I had to abandon my goal of having straight hair for the night. After my best efforts the look I was left with was akin to that of a Chia Pet.

When I pulled out of my driveway I was near tears. It was impossible for me to be on time. It was also impossible, at this point, for me to be "fashionably late." (I might mention here that this was before every man, woman and child owned a cell phone.)

I sped along the freeway trying to make up for lost time. I had, what I thought, was a good idea of where I was going. I was overly confident in my ability to locate unfamiliar addresses, after all as a delivery driver that's what I did all day. As I got closer to my destination, I slowed down looking for my turn. It wasn't there. I circled the block but still couldn't find where I needed to be. Again and again, I went around the block hoping my street would magically appear. It didn't. I was lost and I was 30 minutes late.

My teary eyes were making driving difficult and I had to check the address that I'd written down. I pulled over and closed my eyes while leaning my forehead on the steering wheel. I took deep breaths as I tried to calm down. I looked at the address on the wrinkled scrap of paper that I clutched in my hand. I peered out the window at the street sign. I was one block from my destination.  If I had circled the block to the north of the one that I had been looping endlessly I would have found my turn right away. 

By the time I pulled back on the road, found the correct street and found a parking spot 15 more minutes had lapsed.  As I walked through the parking lot, I knew the chance that Kedar would still be waiting for me was pretty slim.  I felt terrible.  I couldn't imagine what he must think of a girl who would stand him up on a first date.

The meeting place that we planned to use was a sky walk. I entered the staircase that led to the over-the-street-walkway.  I didn't dare hope he might still be at the top. I looked up from the bottom step and there he was!  He was walking down the stairs on his way to his car when our paths' intersected.

My face burned with humiliation.  I couldn't think of a thing to say.  The look on his face spoke more than he dared say aloud; there was frustration, hurt and disbelief clearly written into his countenance.  For a moment we stood just looking at each other while my head spun and he composed his handsome features.  He took a deep breath and politely smiled at me.

I knew that now was the time to apologize, be witty or give him the list of excuses that I had been preparing but my mind was completely blank.  "Say something!  Just say something!" I thought frantically.

"Do you like my haircut?"  I blurted lamely.



to be continued...

Word Up

Confession- I have SIX posts that are in the "draft" stage.  My goal is to finish them up within the next couple of weeks.  Wish me luck!  Here's one I started a few weeks back.

Seems the thing to do these days is to choose a word to use as inspiration for the year rather than doing a whole list of specific resolutions. 

The idea was intriguing to me.  Would choosing a word help me focus on becoming better, rather than completing goals just to check them off of a list?  Would a word be specific enough, or do I need something more tangible to reach for?  Some years I've done really well with resolutions, other years I make them forget about them by January 15th.  To be honest, recently I haven't made any at all. 

Since I've been thinking about choosing a word for several years, back in December I gave it some serious thought.  What word would I choose?  I love words so narrowing it down to one was nearly impossible.  There are so many wonderful and inspiring words.  Love, Serve, Celebrate, Inspire, Create, Rejoice, Grow, Move, Connect, Nurture, Organize, Cleanse... really I could go on and on. 

As I thought one word came back to me again and again.  When I said it it rang true for me and what I need to focus on.  Balance. 

This year I will strive to:

Balance my Time.

I will allot my time with discernment

I will give my time to what is to what is best over what is good or better

Minutes may be spent on the inconsequential

But Hours will be my gift to the significant

Each Moment will be dedicated to Him. 

Balance my Energy.

My reserve of energy will be spent wisely

The energy I am blessed with will be used to bless others

I will enrich My Loved Ones, My Spirit and My Home through my actions

I will recognize the limitations placed on myself and others

I will accept them with love

Balance my Body.

I will acknowledge my body as a creation of a loving Heavenly Father

I will care for it accordingly

Now you tell me, what's your word this year?  Write it down and put it where you will see it often.  After all, "Goals in writing are dreams with deadlines."

Awkward

You know those awkward few minutes that pass when you see someone that you haven't seen in a long time?  When you've gotten past the how've-you-beens and the your-kids-have-gotten-so-bigs, there often follows an uncomfortable (though usually short) period of time in which you and your long-ago friend get acclimatized to one another again. 

I hate that adjustment period.  Remembering how seamlessly conversation came once upon a time and comparing that to the halting, unsure exchanges of the present can be painful. Therefore, I have made an executive decision:

Here at Ruggamuffin, there will be no awkward adjustment periods allowed.

Let's all pretend that my blogging has been as constant as my laundry.  In order to avoid the reality that I have no idea where my camera actually is, we'll imagine that my camera has been busy capturing and downloading the memories of the last few months.  We will carefully avoid acknowledging that all of the time that I spend online these days is being allotted to that other site (you know, the one that starts with a "P" and ends with an "interest").

Instead of focusing on those things that might highlight our recent separation, let me tell you about a moment of enlightenment I experienced yesterday.

I had an appointment in the morning to get my haircut, nothing serious just a little refresher.  I hurried my morning routine along but didn't skip any of the familiar steps .  Ladies, you know how it is, you cannot go to get your hair cut looking like a shmuck.  Even though you know that any time you spend doing your hair is time wasted, you do it anyway.  So, off I went to my hair appointment with my makeup placed with precision and my hair carefully coiffed. Since I was paying the skilled Suzanne a visit anyway, I decided to have her shape my eyebrows while I was at it.

Skillful Suzanne got straight to work on my curly hair.  She is a master, she uses techniques specific to curly hair.  Suzanne finished her magic on my hair then started on my eyebrows.

As she carefully wiped the makeup from my eyelids I blinked at the exact wrong moment.  Just as my eye opened, a warm drop of cleanser slid into my left eye, burning as I spastically tried to blink it out again.  (Did I mention this was my first experience with waxing?)  Suzanne carefully pulled the skin above my eye taut.  With a quick yank, the burning in my eye was eclipsed by the searing heat where my rouge eyebrow hairs had just been exiled. 

I drove home after my beautifying was complete and caught a glimpse of myself in my rear veiw mirror.  The reflection of my bloodshot left eye involuntarily squinted back at me, tears still leaked from the corner of my eye smearing black mascara onto my cheek bone, my wet hair was drying in uneven patches and the tender pink skin under both my eyebrows was swollen.  I chuckled to myself remembering the time that I spent earlier scrunching my curls purposefully, applying eyeshadow with precision and carefully coaxing as much length and volume as possible out of my mascara wand and onto my eyelashes. 

Perhaps the great artist Renoir was actually speaking of the lengths that women will go to for beauty when he said, “The pain passes, but the beauty remains.”(for six to eight weeks, then we'll start the "Beauty/ Pain Cycle" again)

My recent blogging journey...

Confession:  I've been feeling a little discouraged with blogging lately. 

I think that it's normal for those of us who have a blog to wonder; "Is this a valuable way to spend my time?" "Does anybody read what I'm writing?"  "Does it matter if nobody reads what I'm writing?"

Before I go on, let me explain that I don't worry a lot about numbers of comments or followers.  I know that my little blog is a tiny grain of sand in the endless beach of the Internet.  There are a gazillion other blogs and websites out there.  I know that I have a small circle of friends and family who regularly read what I write and I'm okay with that. So, I've never been concerned that I only have a few followers.

Having taken the time to explain that, I will now directly contradict myself.

I logged onto my "dashboard" the other day and noticed my number of followers was down.  Down!?  The number didn't bother me, I mean, there's not a big difference between 4 and 3, right? What bothered me was: Why would someone who had enjoyed reading it stop enjoying it?  Have I been offensive? (I'm sorry!)  Has the quality of my posts declined that much? (It's summertime around here, give me until the kids go back to school, things will get better!)  In short, I started feeling insecure.

Later, I was on the phone with my sister.  As I joked with her about blogging she posed this question, "What is your goal with your blog?"  She'd asked a legitimate question, and I couldn't answer it.

Is my goal fame and fortune? Doesn't interest me.

Do I want to land a book deal? Seems like a huge stretch of the imagination. 

Do I want to reach 10,000 followers?  I only have 9,996, I mean 9,997, to go!

So, recently I've been wondering "Why do I do this?"  Not in a woe is me (why-do-I-even-bother) way, but in an introspective (why-am-I-compelled-to-do-this) way.

Then I came across this post at Daily Writing Tips.  It outlines 5 reasons to keep writing, even if you are feeling discouraged.  It was great for me to remember why this tiny blog is important for me.  Maybe it will be a good reminder for you too?

Five Reasons Why Your Writing Matters
By Ali Hale

#1: It’s Not Just a Hobby

Non-writers often think that writing is some casual hobby – and not a very productive one at that. After all, you might sweat for days on a story, and it still might not get published. If you took up knitting instead, you’d at least have a lumpy scarf or a pair of socks to show for your effort.

Writing isn’t just a hobby, though. It’s a calling. Writers don’t pick up the pen (or turn to the keyboard) because they’re bored – they do it because they feel compelled to put their thoughts down on the page.

Your writing is part of who you are, and it’s not something to take lightly.

#2: Your Writing Can Outlive You

We’re all going to die one day. Of course, memories live on – but eventually, there’ll be no-one alive who ever knew you.

Your writing may well outlive you. Perhaps you’ve not got an audience for your memoir right now … but it could be an incredible treasure for your great-great-grandchildren. And if you’re a poet, playwright or novelist, you might find that your work lives on long after your death. Just think of Chaucer, Shakespeare and Dickens.

Your name could be one that every school child knows in three hundred years’ time.

#3: You Can Change Lives

Most of us have a pretty small circle of influence: family, friends, colleagues, our local community. Writing, though, lets us reach across the world. If you have a blog – even a blog with ten readers – you’re touching other people’s lives.

It always makes my day when I get an email or comment telling me how much one of my blog posts meant to someone. Often, I’ll hear “this came at just the right time for me”.

Your writing could change someone’s life, by opening up new possibilities for them, by teaching them something new, or simply by giving them an experience that they wouldn’t otherwise have had.

#4: Self-Expression is Important

If I don’t exercise, I get cranky – and if I don’t write, I get cranky too. I do some of my best thinking with a pen in my hand, or with a keyboard under my fingers – and I’d bet that you do too.

Being able to get things off your chest and onto the page can be extremely therapeutic – more so than simply talking about problems. The contents of your journal might be ephemeral but the act of writing it might be crucial for your well-being.

Fiction or poetry can also be a crucial outlet, letting you explore emotions and ideas, and bring structure to them.

#5: You’re Improving with Every Word You Write

Perhaps you’re tempted to give up writing because you’re not good enough. Perhaps you’ve had nasty comments on your blog, or you’ve sent off your short stories again and again, meeting with rejection each time. Maybe you’re worried about how to find a literary agent.

Even if you’re not quite there yet, you’re learning and improving all the time. Every single word you write helps you to hone your craft and take your skills further – especially if you’re actively seeking to learn new techniques.

If you give up now, you’ll never know what you might have been capable of.

I will continue blogging because:
- Writing is a part of me
- Maybe my own posterity will find value in my writing
- Maybe someday my writing will touch someone else
- Writing is a way I can express myself
- I have sincere desire to improve my writing

Some Things Never Change...

... but most things do.

At my parents' house recently I came across a My Little Pony that I had when I was a little girl.  I picked it up and slowly turned it over in my hands.  I remembered making that toy horse gallop across my bedroom floor, lying on my stomach I played for hours.

I crossed my parents' living room and picked up my bag.  After rummaging for a minute I found what I was looking for- one of Aubrey's My Little Ponies.  I looked at these two toys separated by a generation and was surprised to see how little they had in common.

Take a look at Exhibits A and B.

Exhibit A: My Little Pony 1980-something

Exhibit B: My Little Pony 2011

I noticed that nearly everything on the newer ponies has gotten bigger.  The hair is much longer, the eyes are huge (which is saying a lot since the original eyes were pretty big anyway), the feet are bigger and, most of all, the head on the newer pony is gargantuan. 

Although most of the newer ponies' features have gotten bigger there are a few noticeable exceptions.  For example, the new ponies have a smaller "muzzle" area, giving them a bit of a duck-like appearance.  Most obviously though, is that the modern toys have a lot smaller bodies (which is accentuated by their mammoth heads).  If you notice the purple pony above ("Star Song") she looks like she can barely support the weight of her noggin' with her tiny body.  It's a good thing she has her Clydesdale sized feet to keep her grounded.

Before finding my pony from my childhood (which isn't exactly realistic), I thought that Aubrey's ponies looked like the horses they are supposed the represent.  After closer examination, I'm not sure what they look like.  Certainly not any horse I've seen.

---

As a side note, taking the pictures of these ponies had me laughing out loud.  This has to be the most ridiculous group of pictures I have ever taken.  The one below is my favorite.  I can't help chuckling when I look at "Pinkie Pie" batting her absurdly large eyes from behind her flowing mane.

Now it's your turn, what has changed since you were a kid?

Gimme a Break

I have an affliction.  I have known for some time about this particular affliction of mine but I am still struggling to keep it under control.  It all started when I was in Mrs. Pratt's tenth grade English class.

Standing in front of the chalkboard, our bespectacled teacher instructed us on the proper usage of commas. 

"A comma marks a natural break in a sentence," she explained. "Use a comma where you would take a breath when talking."

Her instructions made sense to me and gave me confidence in using commas.  I made peace with those tiny, backward "C's."  Where once I was unsure and reluctant I became bold and would use them without restraint. "When in doubt, use a comma," became my mantra while writing.

But somewhere along the line my certainty in wielding the comma began to waiver.  "Would I really breathe there?"  "Is that a natural break in that sentence?"  "Does this comma make it sound like I am breathing or panting?"  Time after time, comma placement has lead to a litany of questions until, here I sit, mistrusting every comma that I write.  The barrage of comma questions that I have repeatedly heaped upon myself have led to my current condition- CPD (Comma Placement Disorder).

The Internet is a place where people can come to find support and strength.  Maybe, my coming forward and giving a voice to this condition will help others do the same.  If you, or somebody you love, suffer from CPD please, know that you are not alone.

Together we can conquer the comma!

I'm Not Proud to Admit

...that yesterday, at this time, this bag was full.

Now, aside from the tantalizing smell of chocolate and peanut butter, it's completely empty.

New and Old Bruises

My foot.

Recently I was making dinner when Aubrey brought a chair up behind me and jumped onto my back.  I was rushing around the kitchen, so I asked her to hop down so that we could get ready to sit up and eat.  She got down but as I was moving away she tried to jump back onto my back again.  I caught her before she fell but in the commotion the chair got knocked over and landed on my foot with a "SLAM!"

OoooWhee!  It hurt.  A.  Lot.  I scrunched my eyes firmly shut.  I pushed the breath out of my mouth and pulled it back in through my nose deliberately, tyring to control the pain by controlling my breathing. 

Ethan was upstairs in his room and heard the noise.  "Mom!  Are you okay!?" he hollered down the stairs (sweet boy).  I couldn't answer right away because I was gritting my teeth to keep from saying something I would regret.  "MOM!  ARE YOU OKAY!?" this time he sounded a little panicked.  "I'm alright," I managed weakly. 

I sat on the kitchen floor and gingerly peeled my sock off.  I was surprised by what I saw; nothing.  There was a little skin that was peeling off of my skinny second toe where the chair had hit the hardest, but that was it.  "Big baby," I accused myself harshly as I pulled my sock back on.  Clearly, I'd made a bigger deal of my injuries than necessary. 

As I got my pajamas on later that night,  I sat on the edge of the bed to reexamine my foot.  The change was impressive.  Purple in every shade ranging from purplish-pink to purplish-brown had creeped across two of my toes.  I felt a strange feeling of justification.  "See?  That did hurt," I told myself.

When I showed my foot to Kedar he reminded me of another bruise that I had over eleven years ago.

After Kedar asked me to marry him we went to get some pictures taken for our wedding announcements.  The family friend who was taking our pictures took us to a beautiful location with streams and gardens and wooden arches.  At one point we came to a big hill with a long cement staircase to the bottom.  Kedar challenged me to race down the hill.  Not one to back down from a challenge I, of course, accepted. 

We both got a good start.  We were taking the stairs one at a time in small, quick strides.  As we reached the halfway point the competition intensified and we started skipping steps.  I took a bad step and lost my footing.  My ankle twisted painfully and I heard a sharp "CRACK!"

This picture was taken two thirds of the way down our racing hill.  If you look carefully you can see that I am favoring my right foot.

Kedar helped me to the bottom of the hill.  As we continued taking pictures I could feel my ankle getting more and more swollen.  By the time we were finishing up I couldn't put any weight on my foot at all, I was completely relying on the firm arm that Kedar wrapped around my waist.  At last we were heading back to the car, to get there we had to climb a steep, rocky incline.  I just couldn't do it.  Kedar ended up carrying me on his back to the car.

My ankle was twice its normal size and black and blue by the time I got home.  For a few days I couldn't get off the couch so Kedar came and helped me when ever he could.  I wore an "air cast" for a couple weeks. 

A bad picture of my ankle after I got home from the doctors after our pictures.

My mom told me later that when she watched Kedar care for me while my ankle was healing, she knew that he would make a gentle and loving husband. 

Rollercoaster

I'm dealing with some serious emotional schizophrenia.  Yesterday I was faced with a situation that initially made me feel upset, upset and anxious. 

Not a minute later, upset and anxious made way for angry.  Generally, I don't get angry.  I hate having that hot ball of contention inside of me, however, yesterday at 5:37 I was feeling decidedly angry. 

After I worked my way through angry (it took me a bit) I was able to find the humor in the situation and was somewhat bewildered by the randomness of it all.  But looking at the humor reminded me of the details that I was trying to avoid thinking of and I was right back where I started: upset.

After some loving words from my main squeeze I was okay.  I was able to see the day's events as inconsequential and fell asleep content and happy.

Since waking up this morning I've gone through pity, flummoxed, proud, frustrated, protective and lucky.  I've felt every emotion on the spectrum, let them fill me up one by one and then left each of them by the wayside in a heap when they weren't the right fit.

And now, I'm just plain tired.

Have you ever faced a situation that had you feeling like you're ricocheting from one emotion to another? 

Picture from here:  http://naperville-webdesign.net/

Choosing Hope

I walked into the chapel after the opening song had already started.  The beautiful voices in the choir merged together and rose heavenward.  

"He clothes the lilies of the field,

He feeds the lambs in His fold,

And he will heal those who trust him,

And make their hearts as gold."

My Grandma held tightly to the crook of my left arm as I led her to where our seats were.  When I glanced up at the stage I saw a pair of striking blue eyes looking out from a scarred face.  Stephanie Neilson sat patiently waiting for her turn at the podium.  Next to her her husband held her hand, occasionally they looked into each other's eyes, or shared whispered comments but mostly they were just there- together.  After seeing them together it is hard to imagine them apart.

After a short introduction, Stephanie took her place at the front of the large audience.  She spoke of the terrible airplane accident that left 80% of her body badly burned, she showed pictures of the rubble that was left of the plane after the crash and she spoke of hope.  

"You can choose to live in hope or you can choose to live in despair. 

For me, choosing to live in despair is choosing not to live at all."   

Her voice resonated with the wisdom that comes only through experience. 

Many, many people know who "Nie Nie" is and because of that she seemed larger than life to me.  But as I listened to her I began to see her as an ordinary person who has been confronted with tragedy and is facing it in an extraordinary way.  She has taken the trials that life has dealt her and is sharing her faith and the hope that she has found in Jesus Christ.

"I am just now being able to say that I am grateful for this trial. 

I can see now all of the blessings that we have because of it. 

I used to wish it away, but now, I wouldn't change it." 

She spoke of her trials and the pain that she is required to endure, but in the same breath acknowledged the scars that others carry that are less visible. 

"I hope that we can all say one day,

"I endured that, and I did it with grace." "

  

I left the church and walked into the dark parking lot.  I felt a little different than I had when I walked into the building earlier that evening.  I felt renewed, uplifted and I felt like I could better handle the trials that life has dealt  me.  

Picture from Utah Valley Magazine

100 Things About Me

1- I have never had my nails done
2- I lived in the same house from age 4 until I got married
3- I love driving by that house on occasion
4- My dad gave me my curly hair
5- I didn't like having curly hair while growing up
6- My brothers called me "broccoli."  Being called "broccoli" hurt my feelings more than anything else
7- My brother once called Aubrey "broccoli" and I almost punched him (seriously)
8- I don't mind having curly hair now
9- I am glad that Aubrey has curly hair, I hope she doesn't hate me for it
10- I had a happy childhood
11- I love the neighborhood that we live in
12- I love it when we have flowers in our yard
13- My sister and I used to think it was so rude to call your sister "sissy"
14- I believe babies can't talk because they know too much rather than too little
15- I am currently in a Biggest Loser type competition with my hubby
16- I am more reserved now than I have ever been
17- I have donated 8" of my hair to Locks of Love three times in my adult life
18- My biggest fear is probably cancer; getting it myself or having another loved one get it
19- I worry a lot more than I let on
20- I wish that I could type faster
21- My mom told me that I would regret quitting piano, I do
22- I recently started a Facebook account, I'm still deciding how I feel about it
23- I worked at Little Caesar's Pizza in high school.  I really hated that job. I didn't eat pizza for a long time afterward
24- I really like pizza now
25- I'm beginning to think that a marathon is not in my immediate future
26- I was going to get my degree in teaching
27- When I go back to school I don't know what I want to study, I don't think I want to be a teacher anymore
28- I am trying to be more organized
29- I used to give blood every chance I had
27- After having babies needles make me a little nervous
28- I've been bungee jumping
29- Bungee jumping scared the bujeebers out of me, I loved it!
30- Laundry is my least favorite chore
31- I am the middle of five kids
32- Growing up with two older brothers trained me to feel like I always have to be tough
33- My siblings are my best friends
34- I talk with my sister almost everyday
35- My parents are my heroes
36- I feel helpless when someone I love is hurting
37- When I am asked what my "favorite" things are (food, color, etc) I have a hard time deciding
38- I don't know what that says about me
39- I am in denial that my oldest child will be ten this year
40- I am constantly underestimating what my kids can do
41- My children amaze me by what they are capable of
42- I believe that my children will do great things
43- I worry about being a good mother
44- I would rather shower than bathe
45- Bath water kind of grosses me out. I saw a Seinfeld where Kramer said when you bathe you're "sitting in a tepid pool of your own filth." I think of that every time I take a bath
46- I just realized that my boys are old enough that I now embarrass them
47- I love it when I make my bed
48- I have cut Kedar's hair since before we got engaged
49- My boys have had one "professional" haircut in their lives
50- I am too afraid to cut my daughter's hair
51- My hubby just recently started laughing at my jokes
52- I think that he has always thought that I was funny, just not when I tried
53- I am very clumsy.  I trip a lot.
54- I always try to act like I didn't just trip, hoping nobody else noticed
55- I love soup from Zupas
56- I get very carsick
57- I love my iPod
58- Music has always inspired me
58- I sang in seven different choirs in middle and high school
59- When I had to try out I was always surprised when I made it in
60- I love to hear my husband sing
61- He sang to me on our first date (actually it was a rap- never mind)
62- Kedar makes me want to be a better person
63- He is the most driven person that I know
64- I have lived in Utah my whole life
65- I would love to live here forever
66- I love the mountains
67- If I don't get outside everyday I start to feel trapped
68- I have always been a night owl
69- I love sleeping in
70- I hate sleeping in
71- When I sleep in I feel like the whole day is unproductive
72- I have tried lots of times to break the habit of staying up late
73- There are some books that I read over and over again
74- I have read Pride and Prejudice too many times to count
75- I stayed away from reading the classics until about 5 years ago because they intimidated me.  I ain't screed no more
76- I would rather eat a good salad than a good steak
77- I forget things a lot, which really bothers me
78- When I get embarrassed I blush
79- When I blush I get more embarrassed
80- I cried in the movie Tangled
81- I wish I didn't cry so easily
82- Sometimes I have a hard time making decisions
83- I miss my grandparents
84- I have very vivid dreams
85- I talk in my sleep
86- I was a stubborn child
87- I was an outspoken twenty year old
88- I am a shape shifter
89- Sometimes I need to write
90- Sometimes I can't write
91- While we were dating Kedar told me my eyes are the color of a lion's eyes
92- My eyes are light brown but sometimes they look orangey
93- Sunsets often leave me speechless
94- We always had a dog while growing up.  Sometimes I really want a dog, sometimes I don't
95- I am grateful my life hasn't always gone the way that I had planned
96- I am done comparing myself to others.  I think women do that to themselves far too often
97- I get attached easily
98- I remember the exact words Kedar said to me when he asked me to marry him
99- I love spring flowers, they make me happy
100- I like all of the light switches to be tilted the same way

8 Organization Tips You Probably Already Know

I reorganized my closet this week.  I am so excited to have it done that I find myself making excuses to go in there.  Hmmm.  I think I need to vacuum the closet...again.  or   Let's see, have I counted the hangers yet today?  On these made up errands, as soon as I  open the door to the closet, I can't help but smile.  I take my time and let all of the cleanliness and organization soak into every pore.  I think it may become my new reading spot, just so I can spend as much time as possible looking at the neatly folded clothes and straight rows of shoes. 

Here are a few things that I learned during this organization project:

1- Put important things at the back of the closet.  If I put things that I know I need to get to everyday (like my shoes) way at the back of the closet, I have no choice but to keep the path back to them cleaned up.  I like to trick myself like that.

2- I love having my clothes hung up in rainbow order.  Is this ridiculous?  Absolutely.  Is this necessary?  Absolutely not, but it makes me happy so it's worth it to me (I like it so much I even hung Kedar's that way too).  Look how pretty it looks! 

3- Organization gadgets work (for me anyway).  Having a place for everything makes a huge difference.  Kedar has a tie hanger for his ties and a belt hanger for his belts.  We have hanging shelves for our hats, scarves and other random things.  The shoes have their own shelves and hanging shoe organizer.  If each of these things didn't have a place to go they would end up shoved into a corner or thrown haphazardly onto a shelf  (I know this from experience).

Oh, and the brown and cream drawers in the middle picture below?  Those are my newest organization love.  "Itso" from Target.  They are modular bins that can be configured in any way that you need and come in tons of different colors (my bedroom is brown and creams, so now my closet matches!  Oh, happy day!).  I keep my sweaters in the big drawer and my workout duds in the two smaller ones.  I love these!

4-  Use lots of bins and baskets.  Not only are they great for organizing things (swimming suits, seasonal clothing, etc) but they are cute and look better than piles or stacks.

5- Get creative.  There were somethings that I knew I wanted a certain way but there are no products that would help me out, so, I improvised.  I put my nylons into plastic zippered pouches that I had from some curtains that I bought awhile back.  I was tired of digging through my drawers looking for nylons every Sunday. It's perfect because I can see what color they are without taking them out, and they are hung right under my skirts.

You know those baby outfits where the pants and shirt are hung together?  That's how I hang my skirts.  I've been doing this since my nine year old was tiny.  Instead of throwing those clipped hangers away I slip the loop over another clippy hanger that can hang on the rod, that way I can hang two skirts from one hanger.

The white pouch in the bottom right picture is the packaging that some pillow cases that I got from Wal Mart came in.  All of my slips are in there instead of crowding up my drawer.  Yay!

6- Space bags rock!  I bought a few space bags from Wal Mart.  They are bags that zip closed and have a valve on the side.  Stuff your stuff in there and attach your vacuum and "wah-la" your stuff suddenly shrinks to a ridiculously small size.  See the picture in the top left with the wrinkly looking blobs?  The top bag is full of 9 cream and white throw pillows!  These pillows used to occupy a whole shelf in my closet, now they take about a fifth of the shelf, plus I can stack them up (try stacking fluffy pillows, it doesn't work very well).

7- Have a step stool and have a specific spot for it.  This makes a big difference for those of us who are "vertically challenged."

8-  Have two baskets for dirty clothes.  Sorting dirty clothes by color makes laundry a little bit easier, and I'll take all the help I can get when it comes to laundry.
 

So, there you have it, more information than you could possible need about my closet.  I am so happy to have this done, and now I feel motivated to do some more organizing.  Laundry room, here I come! 

A Serious Condition

I recently took a health questionnaire over the phone for our insurance company.  Here's a snippet of the conversation:

Survey Conductor- Have you been hospitalized in the last five years?
Me- Well, I had a baby.  Does that count?

SC- Yes.
Me- Oh, okay.  Then, yes, I have been hospitalized in the last five years.

SC- What symptoms were you experiencing that prompted you to visit the doctor?
Me- Ummm...  I thought I might be pregnant.

SC- What was the diagnosis? 
Me-  (pause...)  That I was going to have a baby.

SC- What is the name of the physician who treated you for this condition?
Me- (starting to think this was getting ridiculous I gave my doctor's information)

SC- What treatments were recommended for this condition?
Me- (snickering a little) To have the baby.

SC- What was the date that you were last treated for this condition?
Me-  (seriously?)  On my daughter's birthday.

SC- Have there been any follow up treatments that you have not completed with regards to this condition?
Me- Uh.  No.

Dim Sum, Anyone?

Last weekend we were out running errands and making a few visits.  Things were taking longer than we had anticipated and lunchtime was quickly approaching.  From the back of the van we could hear the desperate cries of our children, "We're STARVING!  Please, can we stop somewhere for lunch?" 

This is the moment where things can get a little dicey for our family. 

Should we press forward with our errands, making the young'uns wait another hour (at least) for lunch, but at the same time teaching them valuable lessons?  Lessons such as: a person cannot starve to death between breakfast and lunch.  What about the important principles of budgeting and spending wisely?  By waiting and eating the perfectly good food that we had in our own kitchen wouldn't they learn to understand these things a little better?      

The halo-clad angel perched firmly on my right shoulder presented these arguments quiet articulately.   But she was quickly drowned out by the whining that echoed off the interior of our van, "Mom!  We're soooo hungry!  Pleeeeeease can we stop!?"  The guy with the pitch fork lounging on my left shoulder didn't have to say a word.  He just smiled smugly.

"Where do you guys want to eat?" I asked.

Within 2 minutes we'd weeded out 99.1% of the nearby eating establishments. 

"McDonald's!" the kids chanted with enthusiasm.

"NO!"  Kedar and I retorted, matching their gusto.

"Tacos?" someone suggested.

"BLURRRAH!!" one of the kids countered with elaborate fake vomiting noises.

"How 'bout Subway?"

"YUCK!"

"Sizzler?"

"Eeeeww!"

On and on this back and forth went until it was quite apparent that what we needed was a leader.  Someone to take charge and make a choice.  Someone who wasn't afraid to make some enemies, knowing that not everybody would be happy but still willing to make the best decision for the group.  It is in high pressure situations like this that leaders emerge. 

I noticed it happening gradually; Kedar slowly distanced himself from the circular banter, his driving evolved from aimless wandering to purposeful guiding, and his jaw set in resolution.  He'd made a decision.  The car grew quiet as we all waited to see where we would be eating our lunch.  A sharp right turn off of Redwood Road found us in a parking lot, the sign read "The Red Maple."

Our food was delicious, I believe the words "the best Chinese food in the valley" were spoken during the course of the meal.  When our chopsticks were clean and our bellies full the check arrived along with, of course, the fortune cookies.  The kids looked at them with expectation on their faces. 

Conner insisted the "authentic" way to acquire the fortune cookie meant for you was to pick one and then trade with someone else.  So, trade we did.  One by one we held our delicate treats in our hands and snapped them into two pieces.  The magic of anticipating what the hidden message may say found us all and buzzed in the air like static electricity.  We took turns reading our slips of paper.  The kids wondered out loud how their fortunes would play out in reality. 

"Mom, will I really bring sunshine into someones life?" 

"Do I bring sunshine into your life Dad?" 

"What does "priority" mean?"

"Why should my family be my highest priority?"

I was enchanted as I listened to our children.  Conner's paper said he would "bring sunshine into some body's life"so he believed that he would.  For the value that they put on them, these words should have been engraved on gold instead of printed on paper.  For three little minds that have no qualms believing in Santa Clause, Tooth Fairies and Leprechauns, putting faith in something as tangible as a fortune cookie wasn't a stretch at all.  Because they believed, I wanted to.

When my turn came to read, the words hummed in my head.  The realization hit me: there's no reason not to believe in these positive expressions.  Believing words of encouragement, no matter where they come from can only have a positive outcome.  So, I made the choice to believe.             

      
Motivation can come from many places, last Saturday it came to me in a crunchy Chinese cookie.

Lovin' Every Minute of It

Since I've already written my lovey-dovey post for the month, I thought I'd share some lovey-dovey pictures instead.

Our Hands

Walking through the dark night I felt the warmth of his hand holding mine
I looked down and saw the familiar sight of our fingers carelessly laced together
Eleven years
On the night we met, my fingers deftly twisted a napkin into a rose
I offered it to him with a playful smile
The first time he took my hand was on our second date
It started as a joke but I couldn't deny the way that my heart skipped when our hands met
For the first year of our marriage his hands would tenderly braid my hair every night
When I cut my hair, braids turned into bedtime back scratches for him
Our hands have worked side by side in our little gardens
Planting seeds, pulling weeds, watering and then gathering the fruits of our labors
There have been long nights with hands rocking babies and wiping tears
Anniversaries have brought thoughtfully arranged flowers
Birthdays and barbecues have found his hands working their magic at the grill
Softly my hands have touched fevered brows and his have given powerful blessings
Together our hands have made our house into a home
Working hand in hand, lifting as one, strengthening each other
I am so blessed to have his hand to hold


Happy Anniversary, babe.

START

A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. Lao-tzu

START: Something

Stop: worrying

START: Living

Stop: waiting

START: Talking

Stop: texting

START: Exercising

Stop: dieting

START: Trails

Stop: treadmills

START: NOW

Stop: procrastinating

START: Breathing

Stop: smoking

START: Doing

Stop: planning

START: Simple

Stop: complicated

START, Just START

-Missy Park

I love the sentiment expressed in this simple poem by Missy Park that I came across recently.  It is sometimes hard for me to remember that getting started really can be the hardest part. 

As an example: when I am out of the habit of exercising, starting again sounds like the worst thing in the world.  Getting up early, getting to bed on time, and the prospect of sore muscles all seem like impossible obstacles to overcome.  However, once I just start, I realize that I enjoy exercising, I like getting to bed early, my days are more productive when I get up early and sore muscles represent progress.  Taking one step in the right direction makes what at first seemed unattainable, feel achievable.

I tend to spend more time and energy planning that first step than the whole journey would require.  So, I have decided that I will:

START: Achieving

Stop: worrying about failure

START: Finding ways to serve others

Stop: stewing about things I cannot change

START: Magnifying my strengths

Stop: focusing on my weaknesses

START: Recognizing housework as a way to express love to my family

Stop: Seeing housework as drudgery

START: Appreciating the little things

Stop: wanting more

START: Cultivating my talents

Stop: comparing myself to others

START: Taking better care of my healthy body

Stop: making excuses

START: Reconnecting

Stop: being too busy

START: Making "BEST" my priority 

Stop: settling for "good" or "better"

I will START, Just START

What will you be STARTing?

photo borrowed from here: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/motoring/news/5149151/Motorists-to-be-given-green-traffic-lights-if-they-stick-to-speed-limit.html

Remembering Summer

I'm needing some color today.  I need something to contrast the monotone gray that I am seeing outside and feeling inside.  There are days, for all of us I think, that we need a distraction that is bright and beautiful and then we can move forward with a bit more sunshine in our own hearts.  Today is one of those days for me.
 

Maybe some summer color will help to cheer you up too!

The Inevitable

Last night, I stood in front of the bathroom mirror mindlessly brushing my teeth.  I watched my reflection, took in my tired eyes and my unruly end-of-the-day curls.  My gaze lingered there on the top of my head where my hair parts on the left side, not really seeing anything at all, thinking of a thousand other things.  Suddenly my eyes caught a glimmer of something and I was snapped back into the present moment.

What is that? 

With focus now, I hurriedly finished brushing my teeth.  I leaned toward the mirror, inching closer and closer until my nose was only inches from the glass.  I carefully inspected, slowly turning my head to the left and then to the right.

No!  No, no, no, no!

There was no denying it now.  Maybe I should have turned away and ignored that first glance.  But no, I had to satisfy my curiosity.  And now, as much as I wanted to refute it, the evidence stared plainly back at me.

A gray hair.  My first gray hair.

Of course, I did what any normal person would do.  I reached up and with a quick jerk the intruder was cast out.  The evidence was gone but the damage was already done.  I knew it was there and I knew it would return. 

Now, I am left with the knowledge that somewhere, lying in wait is an unwanted interloper.  What to do until it rears its ugly head again is at the forefront of my thoughts.  The way I see it, there are two courses of action to be considered.

First, live a life of denial and chase after my lost youth by getting some edgy multicolored hairstyle. Perhaps something like this:

Second, embrace my aging with grace by cutting my hair and dyeing it an airy shade of periwinkle.  I am considering this look:

Every Party Needs a Pooper

This morning I woke up early to go running.  Kedar turned to me and said groggily, "You know there's snow on the ground, right?"  I felt like giving Mother Nature a big raspberry.  I've just recently come to grips with fall and it's already acting like winter.  I felt unprepared.  Grudgingly, I drug myself out into the cold, dark morning.  My legs were heavy, my feet were wet, I longed for the warmth of my bed.
  
When I got home the kids were just waking up.  Seeing the white blanket of snow on the ground had a different effect on them.  Excitement flowed from them as freely as water from a faucet.  Focusing on getting ready for school was hard for the boys, there were too many snowy plans to make.  After I got the boys off to school Aubrey was insistent on getting her snow clothes on and heading out into the cold.  I wasn't quite brave enough to go out again so I bundled her up and sent her out into the backyard.  I watched through the window as she dove into the ankle deep snow.  She rolled, somersaulted and made snow angels.  Every few seconds she would stop to wave at me through the window, making sure I was still there.

Listening to the boys chatter enthusiastically about their plans for snow games during recess, and watching Aubrey tumble happily in the backyard made me recognize my own (for lack of a better word) party pooper-ness.  The unexpected can be hard for me.  Sometimes I see it as an inconvenient hiccup in my plans, where my kids look at it as an adventure.  I love that my children embrace the unexpected with excitement.