Karen's Korner

Moving On

2011-10-14T16:42:00.000-07:00

Well, I haven’t posted anything in a LONG time, and it’s about time I wrote SOMETHING. I had a long post and a half about my boss Cary Casey, but then decided it probably wasn’t wise to post something so personal on a public forum, even though nobody reads this anyway. SO … I’m moving on, from a big big BIG part of my life. In case you didn’t know, Cary was my boss; I was his Executive Assistant for 17 years. He died June 24 at 65 years old. He was diagnosed with cancer (spindle cell sarcoma) in March, so it was fast and so sad. It’s still hard to imagine someone so full of life, so energetic and so passionate about everything, suddenly just gone.

I had been organizing a video for him, filming employees sending him messages (nothing negative--like I'm so sad you're sick--was allowed) and I even organized a flash mob dance scene made up of a lot of employees. I intended to bully just the Finance Department to participate, but in the end it was not even just us. The General Manager and all the Deputy GMs were out there boogying (so to speak) with the rest of us, including most of the department heads. It was 107 degrees that day and we did it outside. I was amazed by the turnout, and it ended up being a lot of fun, even though I had to be out front (that was the only bad part). A couple simple dance steps is all we used, and we danced it to “Can’t Help Myself” which happened to be the song that played on one of the little toys Cary had in his office. He used to say that he would push the button to make it play every time he felt he needed to hear that somebody loved him. (Yes, you do know the song. It’s by the Four Tops and starts, “Sugar Pie, Honey Bunch. You know that I love you! Can’t help myself …”) It was funny. I got a lot of calls about it the day after we filmed that part. Half of the calls were people telling me how much fun it was. The other half of the calls was people who were mad that I hadn’t invited them to join us. And so it goes.

Sadly, Cary didn’t live long enough to see the video. It was all filmed and being edited when he died. But I believe that he has seen it now and appreciates my efforts. I know his family, his two children and his “widowed bride” (he married his long-time girlfriend just hours before he died) appreciated it. His children, a son Connor and a daughter Evan, are only 28 and 25 years old, so it was early to lose their dad. And I know how much he adored those kids. I’m also rather fond of them; they grew up with me, too! One thing will always stay with me. Cary had a bit of trouble with Connor when he was a teenager, so Cary was thrilled when Connor decided to join the marines right after graduating high school. Connor was at boot camp when 9/11/01 happened, so that kind of dampened Cary’s enthusiasm for his son being a marine! Connor was actually in the first tank regiment to cross into Iraq. We spent many days with Cary’s office TV tuned to Fox News as we watched continuous coverage of the war. We were afraid to watch and afraid NOT to watch! But Connor came back, safe and sound, and a man we could be even more proud of. Connor got married on the end of April, and Cary was able to be there. It’s the last time most people saw him alive. I saw him once more when I visited him at the hospital. Cary’s daughter, Evan, graduated Summa Cum Laude from UNLV over a year ago. Cary was very proud of her, too. But anyway, I know that Connor watched the video a lot, because at the funeral he made comments about it to some of the newer employees that he had never really met before. So it makes me happy that, even though Cary didn’t get to see the film while alive, it provides comfort for his family.

Anyway, I’ll say only a few things about Cary. The first is what I said to him on the video. The video opens with me sitting in HIS chair with my feet up on HIS desk, calmly filing my nails. I look up as if someone has just come in and I quickly put my feet down. I say, “Cary! I didn’t know you were here! Sorry about that! Oh, just wanted you to know that I never did that when you were still here.” Then I paused and said, “You know, Cary, we’ve been through a lot in the 17 years we have worked together. There are lot of memories, good times and bad times. There were times we sat in this room and yelled at each other! The times you yelled and I cried, the times I yelled and you cried – wait, THAT never happened! Anyway, there is one thing I have to say. It was never boring! Love ya! Bye bye.”

That was my contribution. We did have a lot of ups and downs, and a lot of it was very hard on me. I’ll post a few of his pictures. As you will see, he could be so crazy, he could be so fun, but he could also be very mean. But I survived. I have to tell one thing that proves to me that he did care about me. I can’t tell everyone the circumstances, but there was a day almost ten years ago that I got some very bad news. I had been house-sitting for my friend Julie, who was gone to Ohio for her grandfather’s funeral. I got the bad news before I left for work that day. When I got to the office, I told Cary what was going on. I also had a terrible migraine and I asked him if I could just go home for the day. He was shocked at my news and said yes, I could go. I gathered my things and walked to my car in the parking lot.

Right when I started up my car to leave the lot, my cell phone rang. It was Julie. In the few minutes it had taken me to walk to the car, Cary had rushed around the office, trying to find someone who had Julie’s cell phone number. He wanted to get hold of her right away because he knew I needed a friend. And he got her number, called her, and she called me within that short time frame. I was shocked, still am, at what he did. So he did care about me in some way.

In fact, something happened last week that I have to mention and then I won’t talk about Cary again (much). I was in my kitchen, mixing up my morning protein drink, and in my imaginings I heard Cary saying to me, “You sure have this new guy fooled, don’t you?” (He was referring to Bill, my new boss, who really likes and appreciates me.) Don’t take Cary’s statement wrong, it was exactly the kind of thing that Cary would say to me, in a fond, joking manner (as fond as he ever was). I agreed with him that yes, I do! Then I imagined that Cary said to me that he was sorry for all the things that happened. I told him, “I forgive you.” And I do. So that’s all the detail I’m going to go into about life with my boss. He has said he is sorry and I have forgiven him. The end.

And now for the pictures.

This one was taken at our first Employee Appreciation Day, a Hawaiian theme. My boss, the CFO, twirling a baton that's on fire. He did singe a few of his leg hairs when he passed it under his leg. Originally he was going to wear something shorter, but I said no no no ... I could see his underpants! (Not that he cared.)

My boss, dressed up as King Tut and lip-synching that old Steve Martin song. I think the theme that year was 70s. And he mooned the General Manager (wearing his flesh-colored underpants) just before the dance started. Proof that he didn't care about such things!

Dressed up as Carmen Miranda hanging onto the back of a decorated golf cart. The theme that year was Mardi Gras. I had to do his makeup! That was weird. Also, during the second lap around the building, his bikini top rode up and exposed his chest. I was so horrified! Couldn't he feel the breeze?!

I had a big halloween-themed party for his 60th birthday. Here he is among his decorations. The skulls and bats hanging from the ceiling each had a signed message from someone from work. He left all the decorations up almost until Thanksgiving (his birthday was October 17).

I took this picture of him for publication in the Bond Buyer and it also ended up in a couple other Finance publicatons.

The enormous cabin he built with his own hands. He lost a finger building it!

His last official portrait. Sure glad I made him go to that appointment.

His family used it in the newspaper, funeral program, etc.

It's a weird, weird, weird, weird world -- Take TWO

2011-06-03T12:56:00.000-07:00

Well, a while ago I found a program that let me create my blog post somewhere else and add the pictures and stuff where I want them and then post it here without much trouble. Being totally OCD, I can't stand it when there are too many spaces (or not enough spaces) in my blog, when the words don't divide right between lines, stuff like that. I can't tell you how many times I've posted a blog, then viewed it, and then discovered messiness like that. I go back to the post and try to fix it, only to find more problems when I re-post it. Drives me crazy! Well, I thought I had solved it. NOT! Now I can't remember what program I used! So I sat down this morning to write my next post (hopefully less depressing than the last), telling myself I could get it out quickly and then get on with stuff I've got to get done today. Then I wasted at least an hour trying to figure out what I used. (I didn't use it for my last post because I didn't use any pictures.) So much for getting something out quickly and easily! If anybody knows what program or tool or whatever I might be thinking of, let me know! It's driving me crazier! And I will TRY to post this one and walking away so that I don't spend all day trying to fix it so it looks perfect. UGH! WHO CARES?! (except me?)
OK THEN! When I last wrote (not counting the most recent one), Jill’s babies had been born and I had returned home from the joy and exhaustion of taking care of two newborns plus Jacob and Kadence and Jill and Jared. A few weeks later it was time to go back to Arizona for the babies’ blessings. I thought that there would be too many people wanting to stay at Jill and Jared’s place, so I was looking for a hotel room for us. Of course my dad (aka Grandpa) would be going, and of course Jimmy, and I hoped Jenny. Joanna and Shayler had already told me they were going. Joanna was flying down earlier in the week to help Jill with the kids, and Shayler was flying down a little later because he got a new job (YAY!) and had to work. My whole family was (hopefully) going to be there! And it might be the last time for a while because (as I may have mentioned before) Jill and family were moving to Virginia, like SOON. So, I had been looking around for a reasonable-but-decent hotel room for us to stay in without much success when I found out that Jared’s family were all getting hotel rooms, which freed up Jill and Jared’s place for us to squeeze into. I figured I could bring my aerobed for me to sleep on, and I’d round up the other air beds I have in the garage for other people to sleep on. Jimmy could take the couch, and Joanna and Shayler said they were getting a hotel room for the days Shayler would be there. I preferred to stay at Jill and Jared’s place, anyway. You get to spend a lot more time with them when you’re under foot every minute!

Jenny wanted to bring her newest boyfriend, Mike (not to be confused with M*ke, my ex husband #2), with her, so they were driving down in Jenny’s car. Besides, I wanted to drive down on Friday morning, and Jenny couldn’t leave town until mid- to late-afternoon on Friday because they had to wait until both Jenny and Mike got off work. Yes, we might have been able to squeeze all of us into my car, but I wanted to get to Arizona as early as possible so that we could spend every possible minute with Joanna and Jill and her family. So Jenny and Mike were coming in Jenny’s car. I had arranged for my friend from work, Lynn, to house sit and take care of our doggies and kitties. Toss in the fact that we had just had a new alarm system installed in the house. I’d had a sub-par system for a while and was basically just waiting until my contract with them expired before I got a new one. (This little fact might seem random, but it does factor in later on.) (And since when does the fact that something is RANDOM stop me from including it anyway?)

Of course all (my) plans fall apart soon after they are made. Jenny’s car started overheating, so she didn’t know if it could make it to Arizona. Of course she HOPED it would make it, they would just keep stopping to add water. I wasn’t too happy with the idea of them driving that far with those risks, especially, probably (knowing them) leaving late at night, so I decided that maybe I could get a cheap rental car and Jenny could drive down in my car. I consulted with Jimmy (the only person I currently have at home to consult with – the animals don’t contribute much), and he thought that I probably shouldn’t spend the money; I am sort of broke all the time. If Jenny’s car couldn’t make it, they didn’t have to go. The voice of reason. I had already reserved a rental car at a very good price, but I could always cancel. I mentioned it to Grandpa, and he said that maybe we could ride down in his car. That sounded fine, except I decided that Jenny and Mike could ride down in GRANDPA’s car and we would take mine. Let them use the older vehicle! Sounded good to me.

The plan was that Grandpa would arrive Thursday evening and we would leave for Arizona on Friday morning. He was already here when I got home from work that evening, and I could see immediately that my plans were already starting to fall apart. He had a meeting with a fellow land surveyor that afternoon, so part of his trip to Vegas was business related, so he brought his truck instead of his car. So much for my plan that Jenny would drive his car! I would have to let Jenny take my car, and just the cost of gas to drive that truck would probably be more than the rental car I had reserved (I did get a really good deal), so we were back to getting the rental car.

Of course none of this stuff could be SIMPLE. That would be someone else’s life.

It was too late to pick up the rental car that evening, so early the next morning, Jimmy and I drove to the rental car place near the airport to pick up the car. When we got back home, we loaded it up and took off for Arizona. I’m sure there were plenty of “adventures with grandpa” moments along the way, but those things have been crowded out of my mind with everything else that was going on.

We got there, and it was Jacob’s school carnival that evening, so OF COURSE we had to go. He was going to a charter school, and the carnival was their main fund raiser for the year, and I have to admit that the items they were selling by silent auction were pretty cool. Jill had already bought a bunch of tickets for us to use for food and games; they had a bunch of those jumping things for the kids (you know, those big inflatable little room things), and the place was utter chaos with the noise of all the kids screaming and music blaring. Add to that was the fact that the weather was unseasonably cold, so it was pretty chilly, too. We loaded the babies’ car seats onto Jill’s double stroller and we went to look at the TONS of stuff at the silent auction in the school gym, but it was so crowded in there and trying to maneuver that enormous stroller through the crowd was difficult (coupled with people stopping to look at the babies). By the time we were halfway through, I had completely lost interest in everything. I guess I am not good at dealing with chaos. I did it while growing up in a large family and again when my kids were small, and I just can’t tolerate it as much in my old age. I was anxious to get out of there, so I waited by the door until the others were ready to leave. We went outside, where it was quickly getting colder as it was growing dark, got the dinner Jill had already paid for (hot dogs and chips), and tried to find a picnic table to sit down and eat. The wind had started to blow and Jacob was kept busy chasing our chips and napkins. Again, it was so loud outside that you couldn’t talk. Jacob spotted some friends of theirs who were standing in line at one of the jumping things, so he asked if he could take Kadence over there with them. Jill said okay. About thirty seconds later, Jacob was back and he was in tears, saying he had somehow lost Kadence. I stayed with the babies while everybody else, including Grandpa, fanned out to search for her. Jimmy went back into the building, Grandpa went to check the food area, Joanna checked the game area, and Jill set off to look for their friends, who had quickly disappeared. The searchers would occasionally return for a report and then go off in another direction. I sat helplessly with the babies, who (of course) decided it was time to eat and started to whimper. I wanted to whimper myself.

Eventually Kadence was found (over by one of the jumping things) and we spent time rounding up all of the searchers. By then I’d had enough “fun” for one evening. I told Jill that Grandpa and I could take the babies back to the house, feed them, and get them ready for bed. We would take her vehicle because it had the car seat bases in it. I took her keys and planned to transfer her purse and other stuff to my rental car and then Jimmy would take the keys to my rental car back to her and stay with them. As we were exiting the school property, I noticed Jimmy answering his cell phone. Another crisis was brewing. While we were in the middle of the Kadence search, Jenny had arrived at my house. Although I had warned her that a new alarm system had been installed, she went inside anyway, causing it to go off. Lynn (the house sitter) had left to go gas up her car. I looked at my cell phone and there were, of course, many missed calls. The new alarm system is very LOUD, and there were increasingly frantic calls from Jenny with the alarm screaming in the background, calls from the alarm company, and calls from my friend Julie, who was unfortunate enough to be one of the backup people on my call list. Jimmy tried to call the alarm company back, but (of course) the cell signal at the school was really bad and the call kept dropping. The new alarm company had tried to impress upon me the fact that if the alarm went off and the person wasn’t on their approved list, that person would be arrested, no exceptions. Since it was new, I hadn’t taken the time to add who was permitted to be in the house (Lynn wasn’t on the list, either). So, while we were doing the Kadence crisis, Jenny had set off the alarm and the police were (apparently) on their way. It was so very loud at the carnival (and the cell signal was so poor) that we probably wouldn’t have heard it anyway if we hadn’t been leaving the school when we did.

Jimmy kept frantically trying to get through to the alarm company. I managed find a spot in the parking lot with a tiny little signal on my phone and called Julie. She had just had minor surgery that day, so she wasn’t in the best shape to deal with this problem, either, but she had confirmed with the alarm company that Jenny is my daughter. After Jimmy was able to talk to the alarm company, he was able to convince them that everything was okay, and the security patrol cancelled the call to Metro (the security patrol was already at the house). Of course by now the babies were screaming at the top of their little lungs, and Grandpa was trying to soothe them. He had taken the car seats out of the stroller and had one in each hand, swinging them back and forth. It worked for a few minutes! We put the babies in Jill’s vehicle and then had the fun of trying to maneuver the vehicle out of there. We had parked on the large unpaved lot next to the school, and of course other people parked three-deep, completely blocking some cars from being able to leave. We were only partially blocked, so Grandpa stood outside and motioned for me while I tried to inch back and forth out of there. The babies continued to cry and I was just about at my wit’s end, to say the least! We made it, though, with only a few scrapes and scratches (just kidding, Jill).

We finally made it back to Jill’s place and eventually everything calmed down. Jared and Shayler arrived together that night (they arranged to arrive at similar times so only one trip to the airport would be required). To make a long story short (and you didn’t think I could ever shorten a story), Jenny and Mike arrived so late that they just slept in the car.

Saturday was going to be a big day, and this brings us to another little factor that I haven’t mentioned before: Jill’s biological father, Ira. I hadn’t actually seen him for many (MANY) years, but I had written to him occasionally over the years, sending updates and pictures. When the Internet arrived, we started doing it by e-mail. As Jill got older, I gave her the option of meeting him, but she was never very interested. Also, over the years I have told him about various events that Jill was involved in that he could attend if he wanted to, such as Las Vegas Youth Orchestra concerts. In recent years, Jill has communicated with him by e-mail and she has allowed him access to her blog, but she was still not very interested in meeting him. She felt that her family is complete and she didn’t want to complicate matters.

Well, without going into too much detail (actually I don’t have all the details), Ira has been sending gifts to Jill and her family over the years, and more recently he has been sending money. He’s actually been quite generous, sending money to celebrate their new house when they got it and other events I can’t think of right now.

A year or so ago, Ira started thinking about religion. His parents are LDS, but they were basically inactive the whole time he was growing up. He was baptized as a youth and stuff like that, but their church participation was basically minimal. Long story short (ditto what I said earlier), when I married him, he said he wanted to return to church and we attended the temple preparation classes to get ready to get married in the temple after our first anniversary. It turned out that our marriage didn’t last that long. We got married in February of 1979; by October of that year, Ira had decided that he didn’t believe in the church after all and for that and other reasons, I decided that I didn’t want to be married to him anymore (even though I was pregnant with Jill by then). I moved out in October, we were divorced in January, and Jill was born in April.

Anyway, Ira’s current wife, Dee, is Catholic, and she is serious about her religion, but Ira wanted to return to his LDS roots. (His parents got reactivated in the church shortly after we got married and have been going strong ever since.) He started going back to church and got bit by the Holy Spirit bug, so to speak. He has reactivated himself and is hoping to go through the temple soon himself. (Actually he just texted me that he's going later this month.)

When Ira found out that Jared lost his job last November, he wanted to send them money every month to help them get by. He asked for my opinion and I said that if they didn’t want the money they’d either send it back or just not cash the check. (They did wait a while before they cashed another check he had sent earlier, trying to decide whether or not to accept it.) They just didn’t want to feel obligated, even though Ira told them (and me) repeatedly that he just wanted to help, no obligation was required. Jill and Jared had some financial challenges between job loss and new job, so they gratefully (if hesitantly) accepted his help.

Ira holding Ben

His constant prayers, possibly combined with his financial help, led Jill and Jared to decide to invite him to the babies’ blessings. Since everybody was traveling pretty far for the blessings (my family and Jared’s family), Jill and Jared decided to have the traditional “post blessing Sunday luncheon” on Saturday so that everybody could head home after church. I had suggested that Jill might want to invite Ira to the blessings at church (I thought I could handle having him in the same church building), but I hadn’t thought about the luncheon thing. And now it was happening on Saturday!

Mary-Lou and Lee Gardner holding the babies

So here I was, planning to see him and his parents (who, of course, had hated me not only for leaving their son but cutting them all off from seeing Jill) after more than 25 years. I wasn’t really nervous, but it felt weird. Really weird. On that Saturday, of course Jared’s family was already there, which included his parents, maternal grandparents, and one of his brothers with his wife and two kids. I was there with all of my family. The doorbell rang and in walked this tall, kind of skinny, sort-of-older (sorry, Ira, it seems I always think people around my age look old) guy with his wife and parents. They all looked vaguely familiar. I hugged everyone.

I knew Dee years ago when we both worked at the City of Las Vegas, so I talked with her for a while. Eventually Ira, who had been holding and feeding one of the babies, joined us. All of us laughed and talked, and it was completely, totally surreal. That’s all I can do to describe it. S.U.R.R.E.A.L. And a half! Of course all my other kids were rather fascinated with the whole subject. They’d been hearing about him all their life and here he was.

I’ll wrap this up with more pictures and a few more comments. I’m all talked (typed) out.

First of all, in case you didn’t know, Grandpa’s latest new project is making violins. The violin in this picture is his first masterpiece. YES, HE MADE THAT VIOLIN! Jill played the violin for us and Ira recorded it on his camera as a video, but I grabbed a few still shots from the videos. (Grandpa played it for us, too, don't have a picture of that.)

The next day, after the babies were blessed, we took a few family photos outside the church.

Ira and family with Jill and family (plus Grandpa)

The kids with their daddy's support

My family (Kadence was sick of taking pictures by then! Apparently Jacob was too!)

Jill and her family. Yes, Jill has Sam and yes, Jared has Ben, you just can't see him very well from this angle.

Proof! Another angle of the above shot. I just liked the smiles in that other one better!

If I can muster up any more energy, I’ll later post another “weird weird world” post about my final visit to Arizona, just before they moved to Virginia.

One more thing I must mention was that Grandpa slept on a cot in the loft area of Jill and Jared's house, where the kids' toys were kept. Every morning we were there, I woke up hearing Grandpa playing Princess Barbies with Kadence outside my door. So so sweet!

It's a weird, weird, weird, weird world

2011-05-30T14:21:00.000-07:00

WELL … Susie, my best friend in the whole wide world since high school, has been prodding me to write some more on this blog, but I haven’t been able to do it. I have a hard time writing about sad things, and I’ve felt a lot of that in the past few months. I seem to think that blogs are for fun and laughter, not sadness and tears, never that. Every time I’ve thought about writing more on here, I can only think of my pain and confusion, not the happy times. But now that I’m sitting here typing, I’m suddenly thinking of the many sunshine moments that I’ve had between the clouds, and I’m going to write (and think) about those. So here I go.

But first I’ll start with the things that have been pretty much consuming my life for the past months. Feel free to just skip this post if you want! I won’t blame you!

The problems with Cary, my boss, began the week before President’s Day in February. To back up a little, he had been having trouble with his knee. He had a minor surgery on it a couple years ago, but of course as soon as it felt slightly better, he was hauling a refrigerator up and down the steps at his cabin in Utah. Yes, a full-sized refrigerator. He bought it in Cedar and hauled it to his cabin. After he plugged it in, it didn’t work. He had to drag it back down the steps and back onto his truck and back to the store, where it was exchanged for another one that he subsequently pulled up the stairs again. A week or so later at work he was complaining to me that the dang surgery didn’t work and his knee was hurting again. I gently inquired whether or not carrying refrigerators up and down steps might be on the doctor’s approved activity list, but he gave me a cranky look so I dropped the subject. He soon started talking about knee replacement surgery, but that was forgotten when his back started hurting. He plays a lot of golf and the sore back was interfering with his game, so he had surgery to fix that. Then last fall he decided to get a full physical at Scripps in California. He got a clean bill of health, so he decided to go ahead with the knee replacement surgery. The knee replacement was done in December, and he returned to work in January. (Usually he tries to return to work way before anybody sane would consider, but that time his doctor refused to release him until he stayed home the full four weeks.)

Then in February, the Tuesday before the President’s Day weekend, he said his stomach felt a little upset and he was going home early. I thought he might be coming down with the flu. (This was before the twins were born, and Jill had been really sick with the flu about a week before that.) On Wednesday, Cary called and said that he still felt a bit nauseous and now he had a fever, so we agreed it was the flu and he should stay home. We had a conference call with our bond consultants scheduled for that afternoon, so he said he still wanted to participate. I planned to connect him to the call from home; everything was just business as usual. At about 11:00 that morning, Heather, his longtime girlfriend (been around almost as long as I have), called to tell me that he suddenly started having a lot of stomach pain so she had taken him to the Emergency Room. He’d called her at work to come get him, so I knew it had to be bad if he didn’t just drive himself. (He came close to driving himself from his cabin to the hospital in Cedar City when he cut off his finger a couple of years ago while working on his cabin. He was alone up there, and he called a friend in Vegas after he did it, and the friend insisted that Cary call 9-1-1. That’s my boss.) At first they thought it was a blockage of some sort, a twisted bowel kind of thing. Later they discovered it was a growth. They took him by ambulance to another hospital, and on Thursday around noon he had surgery.

To make a long story short (yes, I know, it’s already long), they removed over 30 tumors around his stomach and intestines. They couldn’t get them all because they were everywhere. At first the doctors thought it was Gastro Intestinal Stomal Tumors, or GIST, a type of cancer that has a fairly successful treatment history with medication. After initial treatment, it’s a pill you take every day to keep the tumors from growing and spreading, so it’s not a cure, but it can keep the cancer from progressing for a decent amount of time, years, even (they call it PFS or Progression Free Survival, which sounds kind of harsh, but it’s not that bad, when you think of the alternative). Hard to accept, but something we could (kind of) deal with for now and who knows, maybe a better treatment would come along by the time the pills stopped working.

It took weeks to get the results back from the biopsies that were done, and the end result was much worse. It’s something called spindle cell sarcoma; his specific type is very aggressive, and there is no approved treatment for it. In addition, he was in Stage Four. Cary’s only hope was a clinical trial being run by the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota (actually a clinic in Texas is also doing a clinical trial on it, but Cary chose Mayo). In between bursts of total joy (the birth of the twins and visits with my family), I was dealing with travel arrangements for my boss and basically trying to keep the office running on a fairly normal path. Of course Cary returned to the office probably ten days after his surgery. He was supposed to be in the hospital for at least two weeks. He got out in one week and then dragged himself to the office the following Monday. He looked like death warmed over and didn’t stay long, but he did his best to be there nearly every day. At that time I took a week off to be in Arizona for the twins’ birth. I had asked one of the department secretaries to sit at my desk and take care of Cary while I was gone, but it turned out that she wasn’t needed, because Cary was out all week with pneumonia. He was back to work the next week, a few hours a day, but he was not feeling very well. The stomach pain and nausea never really went away after the surgery, and he was struggling. I went back down to Arizona for the babies’ blessings (much more about that weekend later). A couple weeks after that, Cary’s son got married. I went to the wedding. Cary had still been dragging himself to the office every day. I took the next week off to go back to Arizona to help (and be with) Jill and the kids for the last week before they moved. Again I arranged for someone to sit at my desk and again she wasn’t as desperately needed, because again Cary didn’t come to work all week. In fact, the Thursday before the wedding (we are off on Fridays) was the last time he was at the office. He was too sick to go to the office and believe me, knowing Cary, it had to be really miserable to stay home. He just ain’t the stay-home-just-because-I-feel-horrible kind of guy.

When I got back to town after my last trip to Arizona, I found out that Cary was back in the hospital. The Thursday I was gone, they had started chemotherapy in his clinical trial, and they had installed a port to make that treatment easier. He was in the hospital for tests to find out why he was so sick and in so much pain. I stopped to see him. They decided he also had an ulcer and he went back home the next day. Since then, the chemo made him so much sicker than he already was that he has barely been able to move from his bed to a chair. Coming to the office was completely out of the question, even for him.

After a couple weeks of total misery, Cary decided to stop the chemo. The doctor said it wouldn’t cure him, and now Cary is more interested in quality, rather than quantity, of life. After weighing the options of what would be best for his kids financially, he put in his retirement papers, effective June 1. Heather (his girlfriend) is hoping that he can make it to the office one more time, so last Thursday I cleaned up as best I could but left all of his mementos scattered about as he always had them. They are recruiting for his replacement, which will be difficult. He really is among the smartest people I have known, a financial genius.

I hate to even mention how all of this has been affecting me, because I don’t want to make this awful situation “all about me.” He is the one who is struggling. He is the one who has had to face these awful truths, and without the comfort of the Holy Spirit to help him through, but I guess you have to admit that these things affect a lot more people than the person himself. He has two kids who are really suffering, and his girlfriend, of course, and his father, who is still living (like I mentioned earlier, his son got married a few weeks ago; his daughter graduated from UNLV last year). But I have worked very (sometimes too) closely with him for 17 years, and it has hit me really hard. When he first had the surgery, I had his permission to tell everybody about what had happened and what was going on. When we had the initial GIST diagnosis, I was allowed to tell people about that. He never gave me permission to ask for prayers, but I did it anyway. In the group e-mails I sent, I said “he isn’t asking for your prayers, but I am.” But after we found out that it wasn’t GIST after all but something much worse, I was no longer allowed to share the information. Cary didn’t want people to know. So there I sat in my office, knowing the truth, with people constantly coming around to ask how he’s doing, and I have to put on a positive face and say that he’s doing good. Most people still think it’s GIST. I can’t just sit in my office crying all day, so I have to get control over my emotions, and I’ve done a pretty good job. Once in a while when someone is being especially sympathetic, a little leakage will occur, but pretty much I’ve kept it all inside except for the when I get home, which makes it really fun for those I live with. Jimmy tries his best to comfort me and then escapes to his room. The cats don’t care. Chica just cuddles up and throws in a lick here and there. Dobby does what comes natural to him – he will make a gesture at comforting me but worries deep inside that it’s somehow something he did wrong and goes to find a corner to pee in somewhere. It’s a guy thing. At least it takes my attention away from my sadness long enough to get mad at him. So he’s helping! (And both of the dogs are now confined to the kitchen or their kennels a lot more than before.)

All of this restraint at work is taking its toll, though. It’s sort of amazing to me that no matter how tiny the tear, the headache and general weariness that follow are the same (or worse) as a full outburst. People are always telling me I look tired (read: OLD), even those I rarely talk to. Actually, I’ve been taking headache, sometimes migraine medication nearly every day. I’ve broken out in acne, hives, and I even got a sty in my eye over the weekend. The emotions are coming out, whether I want to let them show or not! Instead of crying all day, I just get to look old and ugly. What fun. Added to that is the mixed reactions I get at work. Some people look at me and seem to think, you sure don't seem to care, where are your emotions? Others look at me like I'm too emotional and therefore unprofessional. I can't win.

Added to all of this, on May 5th, Joyce, a friend from work that I have known the entire time I’ve worked there, had a sudden, massive stroke. She was having a little Cinco de Mayo get-together with a few friends when it suddenly hit her. Her husband called 9-1-1 and she was rushed to the hospital, but vital parts of her brain had already died and she was paralyzed from the neck down. She couldn’t even swallow. A mutual friend, Linda, rushed to the hospital to see her that night, and she said that when Joyce opened her eyes, Linda could see that Joyce was already gone. When Joyce’s husband first started texting Linda, Linda thought he was checking on arrangements for the surprise 50th birthday party they were planning for Joyce in June.

The family knew that Joyce wouldn’t want to be kept alive in her condition, so they took her off life support and put her in a hospice (she was able to breathe on her own, and they didn’t put in a stomach tube). She died a week later. The week after that, they had her “Celebration of Life” at their Baptist church. They showed the slide show that was made for the surprise 50th birthday party that never was. It’s so strange, because I saw her for the first time in a while on the day she died. She was passing by my office and stopped to say hello. Since we hadn’t seen each other in a while, we asked each other where the other one had been hiding. As she walked away, she said one of her trademark favorite phrases, “S.H.I.T.” (Sure Happy It’s Thursday – again, we have Fridays off). And that was it.

If all this isn’t bad enough, Cary has now decided that he doesn’t want to talk to me anymore. He rarely calls, and when he does, he wants to talk to Rick, one of the department managers. Cary, who never bothered to learn anyone’s phone number but mine, calls him directly and, if Rick doesn’t answer, then Cary calls me to say, “put Rick on the phone.” If Rick is gone, it’s “put Randall on the phone” (another department manager). I don’t think Cary even knows about Joyce, because Rick didn’t think he should tell him. The only reason I know most of the details about Cary’s health is because I have asked Heather for the information. Maybe Cary doesn’t want to listen to another weepy female, but he should know that I can hold it together, I can be trusted, and I care.

And yes, I remember that it’s not all about me. But still, being shut out hurts even more. It really hurts.

So, on this Memorial Day 2011, I sit at home and feel sad. Tomorrow I’ll reaffix my mask, put on my big girl panties (Gs), and go back to work. I’m pretending to put together a retirement party, in case he's ever well enough to attend one, and working on a farewell video. I hope he’s here long enough to see it.

(Are you still sure you wanted me to write something, Susie?)

For anybody that's still reading and might be concerned about me posting this information on a public blog, I'm pretty comfortable that hardly anybody at work reads my blog. Plus the fact that Heather is friendly with someone else at work, and everything I have written here has already been spread around work by the other person. I've heard these things (and much more alarming stuff that I can't confirm that may be exaggerated) from other sources at work. I don't feel that I'm revealing anything confidential.

In a day or two I’ll post some of the sunshine moments of my past few months. I just can’t write any more right now. Something to look forward to?

Baby Baby (and two adorable kids)–TAKE TWO

2011-03-18T19:34:00.001-07:00

OKAY, I got that last post out of my system! I’m tempted to just delete it. Oh well! We’ll see!

On Monday, February 28, I got the news that Jill was going into the hospital on March 5 (Cinco de Marcho, as I like to call it) to either have a C-Section or get induced. I was glad to have it scheduled so I wouldn’t have to jump in the car and floorboard it to Arizona, only to get there too late for the birth! I had a bunch of stuff (the basic travel necessities) packed just in case, but as a committed OCD person, I always like to have a plan.

In order to save time, Cindy (Jared's mom) and I made plans to meet at 7:00 AM at the Sam’s Club parking lot near my house on Friday, March 4. She could get a ride there with Court, Jared’s dad, while he was on his way to work. That way neither one of us would have to drive out of our way to meet and it would give us a firm deadline on when we were leaving. Knowing us, if either one of us was planning to meet at the other’s house, we would probably waste time yakking instead of doing our yakking ON THE ROAD. I’m sure you get my drift.

Everything worked as planned. We met, loaded up the car, and hit the road. In addition to our suitcases we had Cindy’s cot and bedroll (I planned to sleep on “my” aero bed that stays at Jill’s place), miscellaneous baby gifts from friends, two large bins of baby clothes from Jared’s brother, and, of course, the essentials, such as traveling snacks and a couple 12-packs of CF Diet Dr. Pepper.

Since Jill was going into the hospital the next morning, she suggested that we meet them somewhere for the traditional “last meal” and she just happened to have a coupon for Chevy’s, so that’s where we went. I hadn’t eaten there for years and it was great – and the food wasn’t bad, either. Then we went to Jill’s place and continued with our traditions, which meant the girls going for a pedicure, including Kadence. Jill was hoping that when she was going to be able to actually see her feet again, they would look pretty! We also went grocery shopping and watched “Unstoppable” on DVD. It was a full day!

On Saturday, Jill was supposed to be at the hospital at 10 AM to get an ultrasound to see what the babies had decided – move into position and be born the normal way, or speed up the process with a c-section. Jacob’s’ last soccer game of the season was that morning at 10:00. I kind of resisted going to the soccer game. I wanted to be at the hospital! But it was Jacob’s last game and nothing was going to happen THAT fast, so eventually I was persuaded to go to the game. Jacob was having an after-the-season pizza party that his soccer coach was taking him to, and a friend of Jill’s was going to babysit Kadence and (eventually) Jacob while we were at the hospital. I was glad that I went to the soccer game. Jacob played a really good game and it was fun watching him try so hard.

As you might notice in the pictures, both Jared and Jacob are sporting crew cuts. Their Relief Society had an Enrichment Night where someone showed the others how to cut hair, and Jared volunteered. I guess it’s nice and cool for the summer!

After the game, Cindy and I took Kadence out to lunch before heading for the hospital. While we were there, we got Jill’s text that the babies were going to be born C-Section. I began to shake. I realize the doctors know what they’re doing and all, but this is MY baby we’re talking about! We dropped Kadence at Jill’s friend’s place and started down the road, but there was one small problem … we didn’t know the name of the hospital or where it was! Jill had vaguely gestured in its direction when we were driving home from the Mexican restaurant the day before, but that didn’t help much. I had also looked it up online for Jill the night before, but in my agitated state, I couldn’t remember anything about it. We called Jill’s friend and she didn’t know what hospital Jill was using, either, but she named off a bunch of them and I picked one that sounded sort of familiar so we set the GPS and went there.

We hadn’t been there very long when we got the text and picture that the babies were born!

We found out later that right after Sam was born, Jill started to bleed. Ben was way up inside and turned the wrong way, so the doctor had to use one hand to try to control Jill’s bleeding and turn, grab, and pull him out with the other hand. The nurse said that when the doctor was trying to deliver Ben, he grabbed her finger. She said she will never forget how sweet it was. In all, Jill lost at least a liter of blood and they said she might need a blood transfusion, but she managed to make up the difference by the next day.

Jill was in recovery for several hours, so Cindy and I were just hanging out in the waiting room when we suddenly realized that we weren’t absolutely certain that we were at the right hospital. I hate to say it, but it would be really typical of me to be sitting for hours at the wrong place. Cindy started texting Jared, trying to confirm the name of the hospital, but Jared didn’t seem to understand what we were asking and kept answering that we had to wait to see them until they were out of recovery. Eventually a nurse came to escort another patient to her car and she noticed our “Twins are twice as nice” balloon stuck to the little flower arrangement we picked up in the gift shop. She was able to confirm that we were at the right place because she was going to be Jill’s nurse for the rest of that day.

Eventually Jill and the babies were taken to their room and the frantic grandmas were allowed in. Here’s my first picture of the babies in their little beds and one of me with the babies!

Jill’s friend who was babysitting Jacob and Kadence told us that they wanted to go to “game night” at the church that evening, so after a couple of hours, Cindy left to pick the kids up and take them home. I stayed longer. Jill has already posted a lot of the pictures I took, but I’m going to do a few more and include my favorites anyway, even if they’re repeats!

Here is Jill with … Sam, I think.

This picture is one I took of Sam while he was lying on my lap.

The third picture (below) is Sam on the left, Ben on the right. I took Sam’s clothes off in an effort to try to wake him up so Jill could try to nurse him, but he wasn’t cooperating very well! It also makes him look enormous next to Ben. Ben is smaller, but you really notice the difference here!

They are easy to tell apart. Besides being different sizes, Sam has brown hair, and Ben’s is blonde. They also have different blood types. Definitely fraternal twins! I have no idea how Jeanette kept her girls apart. I still struggle to remember which is which when they have hats on!

Poor Jared was totally exhausted from all his exertion and just passed out that afternoon! When I finally left the hospital (probably around 8 PM), of course I couldn’t drive home without incident. Cindy had taken my car to pick up Jacob and Kadence, so I was driving back to Jill and Jared’s place in their Honda Pilot. As I was merging onto the freeway near the hospital, I noticed police lights in my rear view mirror. Hoping that I was just in his way as he headed towards more important business, I pulled over. Unfortunately, he pulled over behind me! BUSTED! As it turned out, I had forgotten to turn on the headlights. They automatically come on in my car and the Pilot’s dashboard lights go on at night whether the headlights are on or not, so I completely forgot about them. I used the “my-daughter-just-had-twins” and “this-is-their-car” excuse, and after spending about half an eternity checking my license and registration, the policeman let me off with a warning. Whew!

When I got back to Jill and Jared’s place, Cindy was having trouble getting the kids to go to bed. “Nice Grandma” (her) had to retire to her room and “Mean Grandma” (me) had to take over. Sometimes you just have to bring it on.

The next day was Sunday, and Cindy and I took the kids to church (where we may have mentioned the babies’ arrival to a FEW people) and then to visit their new baby brothers at the hospital. The next few days were a blur of running back and forth between the hospital, Jill and Jared’s place, and Jacob’s school. Cindy flew home on Monday. The doctors considered letting Jill go home on Monday afternoon, but the pediatrician wanted them to regain some weight first. On Tuesday the babies were ready to go, but Jill’s headache became worse and they thought it was due to a leakage of some sort of her spinal fluid from the anesthesia she had, so they had to do another procedure (drew her blood and injected it several times into her spine) and reconnect her IV, which was painful and discouraging for her. Jared and a friend gave her a blessing, and her headache eventually faded away. I stayed at the hospital with her on Tuesday night, and she was finally able to go home on Wednesday.

Here’s a picture of Ben, sleeping on their couch. When I showed him the picture, Jimmy suggested that Ben might be a bit young to be getting hooked on Wii. I didn’t even notice the controller until he mentioned it! Gotta watch that.

Well, as everyone knows, I can go on and on, but I’ll wrap this up with a final few pictures. Early Sunday morning I had just gotten the babies back to sleep when Jacob and Kadence decided it was time to get up. I let the kids play with my camera, and Jacob took a picture of me and Kadence, then Kadence took a picture of me and Jacob. I thought they turned out pretty good, considering that we all just got out of bed! (Actually I had been up for hours, but that’s beside the point.)

Also, I got Jared to take my picture with the babies. No hair or makeup done, but I’ve got two adorable accessories!

The morning after I got home, the noises the dogs make in their sleep made me keep waking up and looking for babies. The strange thing, though, is that when I would open my eyes, I didn’t know where I was. It took me a while to realize that I was at home in my own bed. Then I would fall back asleep and do it again – hear the noise, startle awake, look for babies, and have no idea where I was. You’d think I’d be able to recognize my own bedroom! My heart and mind is obviously still in Arizona!

Baby Baby (and two adorable kids)

2011-03-18T07:49:00.001-07:00

I’ve been trying to write this blog ever since I got back home early Monday morning, but I’ve been struggling. Probably everybody that knows me, knows that I can blab endlessly about minutiae, and there’s lots of it to tell. I had every intention of sitting down and going over every day and all the ups and downs of my sweet daughter having twins: the build-up of waiting, my fears, the delivery, my fears, the joy of meeting the babies, the disappointments as Jill had to stay in the hospital longer, my fears, and so on. But every time I’ve sat down to start writing, I can’t “bring it” like I usually do. My writing seems dull and empty, even to me, and I just can’t post anything, not yet. I think I’ve figured out why.

Hey, are we allowed to tell our real feelings on these things, or is it just endless prattle about sweetness and light? I know it’s not, it’s my blog and I can write whatever I want. I do try not to offend anyone (much); I try to leave out anything that would upset anybody who might read this. But I guess that’s why I’m struggling, and it’s not because of feared offenses. It’s because I’m heartbroken.

My daughter and her precious family are moving far, far away. I’ve tried to be upbeat and happy for them. I know they’ll do great wherever they go, and it’s going to be a wonderful adventure for them. But I am sad, so very sad. I won’t get to see them very often. My babies (all six of them – and yes, I’m counting Jill and Jared too) will grow up without me. I know I’ll see them at least a couple of times a year, and you know I’ll be watching those air fares to grab a reasonable flight whenever I can, but there will be no hopping in the car and driving off to see them for a weekend. And honestly, I haven’t even done that very often while they’ve been close enough.

OK, it’s only Virginia. Yes, that’s far, but it’s not Korea or Australia. I’ve been trying to soothe myself with those words, but it isn’t helping much. Jared left to drive there with his friend Peter this past Wednesday, and during the time I was in Arizona, we were in full preparation mode. Making plans, shopping for Jared’s new work clothes (subsequently stolen by someone who broke into his car in Texas), deciding what he should take, shopping for a GPS for him to take (in the end he borrowed mine), worrying about money. His new job is giving him a lump sum of cash to help with moving expenses (as well as paying for a moving company to actually pack them up and move them), but he has to work there a couple weeks before he’ll get the money, so they have to scrape by until that happens. But he has a great new job, something many others don’t have, they’re moving somewhere exciting and fun, and yes, we’re blessed, we’re blessed, we’re blessed.

But I am sad.

Added to this is the fact that my boss at work has been diagnosed with a terrible, rare, aggressive cancer for which there is no current treatment. His only hope is to get into a clinical trial at the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota, but our (insert foul language) insurance is resisting approval of the tests that will qualify him for it. Yes, I’ve had my ups and downs with him. He can be a great guy that’s really fun to work with. He’s also tortured me from time to time to the edge of (what’s left of) my sanity. But I’m his “work wife” (he doesn’t have any others) and we’ve been putting up with each other for 17 years. I don’t want him to die. I just want him to be nice to me 24/7! Is that too much to ask?

So there you have it.

I’m going to write a second blog after this one and put in all of the happiness and joy of two new babies. I’ll try to hold off posting this one until the other one is about ready so that anyone who reads this can wipe this from their minds, if it ever lingered there.

Right after I’ve dried my tears. Again.

Adventures with Grandpa - Christmas 2010

2011-01-07T10:33:00.000-08:00

OK, before we get started, I must admit that some of these adventures don’t directly involve Grandpa, but he was here, so there you go. And as a prelude to this madness, I must admit that I was further behind on my Christmas stuff than I usually am. Yes, I’m always running around frantically trying to get everything finished up into the late hours on Christmas Eve, but this year was worse than usual because I was out of town for the first two weeks of December (I won’t say where I went, because I might lose my readers’ – maybe I should change that to reader’s – sympathy, if I ever had any). So the setup to this story is that I was gone for the first two weekends of December. The third weekend (the last weekend before Christmas) was spent dragging out the tree and a few other decorations and throwing them together, along with repacking the post-Christmas-decoration-piles and stacking them back in the garage, cleaning house and shopping. (Yes, I was tempted to skip the Christmas tree this year, but if I did that, where would we put the presents? Under the coffee table? Couldn’t do it.)

The week of Christmas I worked a full week (four ten-hour days). Couldn’t very well ask for more time off; all of my backup staff at the office had already taken it off, and some people called in sick. After work I was running to the mall (horror of horrors) and other stores to grab last-minute stuff. Because of that, I hadn’t been able to get much sleep all week, which doesn’t help anyone’s general coherence. Friday, Christmas Eve day found me closeted in my bedroom with piles of boxes, Christmas wrap, ribbons and bows, unwrapped gifts that must be stashed at any second should anyone need to enter the room, and a dwindling tape supply. Of course the scissors, tape, gift tags or marker disappeared in between every wrapping job, adding further steam to my approaching breakdown.

This brings us to Grandpa’s arrival. All my kids (except Jill and family, who weren’t here) were going out to dinner with their dad on Christmas Eve, so I had made plans for Grandpa and me to go out to dinner with my friends, Julie and Jeanne. Julie and Jeanne’s parents have been dead for a number years and they don’t have any children, so we often spend time with them on Christmas Eve or Morning, and this year we decided to go eat at a favorite buffet. It was Friday, which was crab night! Yay! We wanted to get there early, though, try to beat the crowd, so I called Dad on Christmas Eve morning and asked when he was coming. I mentioned that I would like him to be here by 3:00 so that we could go eat dinner with Julie and Jeanne. He said he would, then casually asked if I had any projects around the house that needed working on while he was here. I’m a big fan of projects, and at first I couldn’t think of anything, but then I remembered the ceiling fan in my bedroom. I bought several ceiling fans at the beginning of summer and I put the others up by myself (yay! So proud of myself), but I didn’t get the one in my bedroom done because I couldn’t get the existing light fixture off the ceiling. He agreed that we would give it a try. Yes, I wasn’t thinking straight. When would we do said repair? Christmas Day? Surely not on Sunday, the day after Christmas. Blame it on my total lack of sleep.

Of course Grandpa arrived around noon on Friday (Christmas Eve). The first thing he said after greeting everyone was “Where’s that ceiling fan?” I knew it was futile to try to stall him, so I showed him the box, but told him about the problems I had when I tried to put it up myself. First of all, there was insulation glued to the top of the ceiling fixture, underneath the light bulbs. When I pulled it loose before, trying to find a screw or something that would release the thing, insulation, meaning fiberglass, had rained down upon me, getting on my skin, clothes, hair, bed, and floor, causing extreme itching and tiny cuts, not to mention a mess. I had to shower and clean up the whole area afterwards, and even that didn’t relieve some of the discomfort from the tiny cuts on my hands and arms. I warned Dad about that, and he agreed that we should try to guard against that, so I ran downstairs to the garage to get a few tarps to throw in the bed, a couple garbage bags to cover our clothes, and some gloves to protect our hands. By the time I came back (and I swear, I was only gone a couple of minutes), Dad had already removed the glass cover on the fixture and was tugging at the insulation, resulting in a shower of fiberglass. I gave up, set aside my tarps and gloves, and started to help him. Of course the screw I had tried to remove was stripped, but he clipped it off with some wire cutters, and we soon had the fixture off the ceiling. I also must mention here that the ceiling fan was going above my bed, so we had to stand on the bed to do all of the installation, which is never very sturdy. I was worried that he might lose his balance and tumble off the bed any moment, so I was hovering next to him to try to catch him if that should happen. Then we had it mostly put up when I remembered that there should be another separate wire for the light kit, pre-wired by the builder who obviously tried to hide it from us, which meant we had to take the motor and everything else down again to dig for the wire in the ceiling, but eventually we found it and put everything back up. I won’t mention the constant searching for dropped screws and other bits and pieces; those are par for the course with any home improvement project. Sometimes, too, I suspected that Dad was deliberately weaving while standing on the bed so he could watch me leap into action and try to catch him when he wasn’t falling at all. Hey, he has to get his amusement somewhere! When it was time to connect the light kit (for the second time), Dad got a call from Uncle Frank, so he left the room to talk to his brother. I finished up the fan, removed all of the wrap, ribbons, gifts, boxes, gift bags, etc. from the bed and put the bedspread in the washing machine and put on a clean one. I vacuumed, and by then it was time to get ready to go out to eat.

When we were on our way to the buffet, Jeanne called to tell me that Sunset Station, home of my favorite crab legs, wasn’t serving them today. It was Friday, the usual day for them, but since it was Christmas Eve they changed the menu. There was no line there at all, but she suggested that we go to Green Valley Ranch, another casino owned by the same company, who had advertised that they have crab legs every day. I truly didn’t care that much about the crab legs, but since it was closer, I agreed to meet them there instead. When we got to GVR, the line was very long. The people ahead of us in line cheerily informed us that a line like that meant a two-hour wait. I didn’t really believe her, but was a bit nervous. Time was short, as you know! Lots to do at home! We waited for Julie and Jeanne to arrive. When they did, we discussed going back to Sunset Station, where there was no line, but you know how that goes. By the time we got there, the line might be twice as long as this one! So we stayed. Dad wasn’t happy about the long wait, and it was more than an hour (but not two!) before we were seated. And, surprise surprise, no crab! Just my luck!

Even though the wait was long, we had a nice dinner and headed home. I told Dad that unfortunately he was on his own until the rest of the family returned. I still had lots to do in my bedroom. I set him up with the TV and his favorite, the Hallmark Channel, and returned to my room. I reassembled all of the boxes, bags, gifts, wrap, and ribbon on the bed and commenced the wrapping process. I was also watching my current favorite (true crime) on the TV in my room. At one point I heard a funny sound. I thought, hmm, what was that? Maybe it was on the TV? I reversed the show for a minute or so and yes, I heard the sound again, so I thought it was one of those weird background sounds you sometimes get on this type of show. A few minutes later Chica, my ever-faithful doggie companion, whined because she wanted to sit by me and her way was blocked by all of the stuff stacked on my bed. (Dobby was hanging with Grandpa, as shown in the picture.) I cleared a path for her and she joined me. Soon after settling down next to me, she stood up and threw up all over my side of the bed, on my heated throw, bedspread, and floor. It’s kind of amazing how much stuff such a tiny stomach can hold. (Chica weighs under eight pounds.) I jumped up to go get something to clean it up and discovered what the sound was that I’d heard earlier. Yes, it was her throwing up on the other side of the bed, down the doggie steps, and on the carpet on that side. Chica has been seriously ill, but she’s been better lately. I didn’t know if this sudden illness was something she ate or a bad recurrence of her disease, but I carried her downstairs to the family room/kitchen area (all tile) and started the clean up. All of the boxes, bags, wrap (you get the picture) had to be moved from the bed again, all the bedding removed, including the cover from the doggie steps, sheets, blanket, and heated throw this time, and added to the growing pile by the washing machine. Dad was going to be sleeping in Jimmy’s bed, so all of his bedding had already been added. I had to find more blankets to put on the beds; I even had to bring in a big bag of bedding from the garage because the supply inside the house was totally depleted! (Seriously, if any of you have need for extra blankets and such, I have bags and bags of them in the garage that aren’t being used that I’d be glad to give you.) I penned Chica in the kitchen/downstairs family room with the rest of the family, who had all returned by then (tile only except for a few throw rugs), and returned to my labors upstairs. Every so often I would get another call that Chica had done it again, so I would have to come downstairs and clean up another mess and/or carry more rugs to the pile in the laundry room. When everybody else went to bed, Chica proceeded to whine and cry, alone in the kitchen/family room, disturbing everyone’s sleep. When I finally finished wrapping the last stocking stuffer (yes, we wrap those) and, with Jimmy’s help, got everything set up around the tree, I joined Chica in the family room and slept on the couch with her so that she would settle down and stop crying. Yes, I was worried that I might wake up in the morning to find her dead. The vet said that it was a good possibility. But I tried not to think of that.

Christmas morning (not very many hours later) there were a few more large puddles on the few remaining rugs, but she was still alive. We dragged ourselves out of bed and commenced with the Christmas festivities. We opened our presents, cooked a big breakfast, and cleaned it all up before opening the stockings. Chica seemed better but we held off letting her have anything to eat until later in the day. She was better. I continued washing all the bedding (some of the blankets and bedspreads are still spread over the furniture upstairs, even though they’ve been dry for quite a while). Later that day I remembered another project that I needed Dad’s help with. I hated to mention it, since I knew it wasn’t anybody’s favorite chore, but the toilet in my bathroom had been “plugged” for over a month. The trouble began before Thanksgiving, and I tried using the little plunger substitute I had, a gadget that blasts air into the pipes, many times to no avail. I had bought two more plungers and an auger (I usually borrow Julie’s but decided I needed one of my own) and still couldn’t get it to work. I guess you wouldn’t say that the toilet was plugged, it just wouldn’t go down the way it’s supposed to. My interpretation of that was plugged. I mentioned the toilet to Dad several times, and he was a bit reluctant to offer his services. Can you blame him? Finally on Christmas Day afternoon, I mentioned it again and he agreed to take a look. For this project, he didn’t mind being “suited up” with a full apron, rubber gloves, and a pair of goggles. (Actually I’m exaggerating about the goggles, but I thought it was a funny addition to the costume.) Armed with a plunger, he went into the bathroom. There was nothing in the toilet but water (it hadn’t been used for a while), so he tried flushing it and of course it didn’t go down. He removed the tank cover. I protested that the tank was fine, there’s something down the drain somewhere, but he ignored me and looked inside the tank while flushing. The little flapper thing in there that releases the water in the tank was coming up when flushing, but it was immediately slamming back down, not letting the water go from the tank into the bowl, so not giving sufficient water pressure to make anything go down the drain. If you just hold the handle down a little longer (but not too long so it gets stuck on the floater thing), the toilet was flushing perfectly. Thank goodness for Dad’s toilet expertise. I can fix what’s needed in there eventually and, miracle of miracles, I can use the toilet in my bathroom once again!

We removed Dad’s toilet repairing armor, I turned the Hallmark Channel back on, and the rest of the day was completely lovely. Later in the evening we all gathered and watched my new DVD, “Despicable Me.” I love that video! Yes, Dad liked it, too. And I had my Christmas wishes fulfilled. A ceiling fan in my bedroom and a fixed toilet! What can be better than that?

On Sunday, Joanna and Shayler left to go home, and Dad, Jenny and I went to church. Jimmy had to work (he thankfully got a seasonal job at Target). We had a pleasant evening. Our church begins at 2:00 PM, so by the time it’s over, the day’s about gone anyway. Later that night, though, the cause of Chica’s illness was revealed. It was something that broke all of our hearts. Under her bed, Jenny found a torn-open empty box of Bella Toffee. Dad had bought a number of boxes from Matti to hand out to his customers, and he brought two extra boxes for us, one for me and Jimmy, and one for Joanna and Shayler. He put the boxes under the tree with his other gifts. Apparently Chica discovered one of them, because only one was left. She normally doesn’t get into stuff like that, but since she’s been sick, she’s been on steroids, which make her very hungry and increase her desire to try to get into the trash and anything else that’s available. She found a gold mine under the tree sometime Friday afternoon. I was relieved to find out that she was sick from eating something, rather than her illness, but we were all very sad at the loss of that wonderful treat. We opened the second box and had a piece. It is so delicious that it’s pretty hard to stop eating once you start, so who can blame her? We still mourn its loss, though! That’s really good stuff! Bad dog! Bad, bad dog!

On Monday morning Dad left to go home before I got up, and I get up pretty early, since I leave the house to go to work around 6:20 AM. And once again, the Christmas holiday is over. I hope yours was as fun as mine!

The Dam Bridge is Done!

2010-10-26T17:04:00.000-07:00

Some of you might be getting a tiny bit tired of hearing (reading) about me complain about crossing the Hoover Dam when traveling from Vegas down to Arizona, most recently to visit Jill and Jared and family. WELL, last week I drove down there again and at LONG LAST, the dam bridge is done!

A friend of mine is lamenting that she wanted to go down there and drive over the top of the dam (on the old road) ONE MORE TIME, and my question is, WHY? WHY WHY WHY? If you want to visit the dam, visit the dam and leave us passers-through out of it!

And this is why I'm so happy about the bridge being done. Earlier this year (around March I think) I was driving down to Arizona and, as I sat in traffic trying to cross the dam, I took a few pictures of the progress on the bridge. Here are the bridge progress pictures. The first one was up close while I was driving by it from underneath. The second one was after I crossed over the dam and was ALMOST past the mess of traffic.

While I was sitting in traffic, I accidentally snapped a picture of the dash of my car. It's not the best picture and you can't see it that well, but it does tell a story. Here it is, and note how fast I'm going when I took the picture. That's right. Zero. I was STOPPED IN TRAFFIC. Just what you want when you have a six-hour drive ahead of you.

Now take a look at what crossing the dam is like now that the bridge is done. I took this picture last Wednesday, late afternoon. I was driving in the rain, so this picture isn't the greatest, either (please excuse the coffee filter with popcorn in it sitting on the dash, that's how we Mormons use the coffee filters at the office--popcorn snacking) , but notice that it's a beautiful, wide road with no stoppage at all! And they've built it so that you can't even tell that you're how-many-thousand feet off the ground, it just feels like you're driving along on a normal road anywhere.

And here's the best part. Take a look at my dash THIS time. That's right. Sixty miles per hour. Hallelujah and glory be! The dam bridge is done!

Aww! Cute, cute puppy!

2010-10-05T17:15:00.000-07:00

I just had to add this video I got from a friend. This doggie is so cute!

Adventures with Grandpa – August 2010

2010-09-02T17:56:00.001-07:00

The weekend before last I drove up to Salt Lake City with Dad for April’s first temple session. I was pretty sure that I wouldn’t have enough material for an ‘Adventures with Grandpa’ chapter because it was such a short trip. After all, we left on Saturday morning and returned Sunday afternoon. Surely you can’t squeeze too many adventures in 36 hours or less! WRONG!

First of all, I must explain why we didn’t leave for Utah until Saturday morning. Several months ago, April called and invited me to come to the temple with her family on August 21. I said I would go. I marked it on my calendar and it became “something I’m doing a few months from now.” Fast forward a little bit, and Cheryl, a friend of mine from work, came by my office to tell me that Weird Al was going to be in Vegas this summer. I always go with her, so I agreed to go again. It didn’t occur to me that those dates might collide until after she had bought my ticket. Weird Al was FRIDAY night; the temple session was SATURDAY afternoon! I couldn’t tell Cheryl I wasn’t going with her, since she had already bought my ticket. And I couldn’t miss April’s session.

Meanwhile, Joanna had told Dad that we would drive up to SLC together. This meant that I would have to leave Vegas pretty early to meet Dad in Cedar City, as we usually do. I didn’t bother trying to explain to Dad about Weird Al. I just didn’t think he would understand. I just told him I had other plans on Friday and couldn’t go until Saturday.

Of course this meant that I wasn’t going to get much sleep Friday night. The concert was a lot of fun, as always, but I didn’t get home until around midnight, and I still had to finish packing and stuff, and I had to be up by 5:00. I had talked to Dad about meeting in Cedar City. I said I was planning to leave at 6:00 AM. He asked, “You want to meet at 6 AM?” I said NO-NO-NO; I’m going to LEAVE at 6 AM! Shoot, if I was going to get to Cedar at 6 AM, I might as well not go to bed at all! Ugh, I’m glad I got that cleared up before we left!

I was pumping gas at the Sam’s Club gas station when Dad called for the first time at 6 AM. I told him I was on my way. He said that he would get in the car and leave, and I told him NO, wait an hour! Make another sweep through the garden! Anything! He sometimes seems to think that we’re driving the same distance (actually it’s about 95 miles for him, close to 190 for me), and I always get a lot of razzing from him when he always beats me there. One trip, I was just leaving Vegas when he called to say he was already at Joe and Marie’s, and asked, am I almost there? He really gave me a hard time that trip. But I digress.

This trip, when I got to Joe and Marie’s house, Dad was there (of course) and it looked like he was about ready to jump into my car and go. His suitcase was open on the sidewalk and he was digging through it, looking for something. It wasn’t until I returned from visiting the bathroom and getting the home remodeling update from Veronica (very nice, by the way!) that I realized that Dad had locked his keys in his car and was searching through the suitcase for a spare set. His keys were still in the ignition.

I don’t know how he managed to do it (lock the keys inside), but I don’t have any room to criticize. Just a month or so ago, I did it myself. To make a long story short (and you never thought I would ever actually do that – shorten a story), I had rented a truck to move Jenny’s stuff from her apartment to my garage. After all of Jenny’s friends had unloaded the truck at my house, I locked the truck and went inside the house to take a break before driving back across town to return it. It was probably 112 degrees that day and I was melting! When I decided to leave … guess what? Keys in the ignition, doors locked. The rental place was already closed for the day, so I couldn’t call them. I could call Pop-A-Lock, but that’s extra time and expense, and it was a work night for both Jenny and me, and she was meeting me over at the rental place. I went back inside the house in search of a wire coat hanger, and it took me a while to find one (NO – WIRE – HANGERS – EVER!) Luckily for me, I had left the windows cracked open a bit in an attempt to keep the truck’s interior below the boiling point, so I had a little room to negotiate, even though the truck had those smooth door locks that can’t really be grabbed. Then I spotted the wing windows in the doors. I maneuvered the coat hanger over there and managed to unlock the wing window. After pushing that open, it was easy to reach in and unlock the door. Success! Nobody would have even known that I did such a dumb thing (lock the keys inside) if I didn’t blab about it.

Anyway, back to Dad and his car. Dad had told Veronica that he had an extra car key hidden behind his back license plate, so I suggested we just get that one so we could get on our way, and eventually he did. So off we went. We hadn’t even left Cedar City when I asked Dad if he had remembered his temple clothes. He always brings them (and how he can squish so much stuff into such a tiny suitcase, I’ll never know – it’s about the size of Jacob’s lunch box), but this time he forgot. We were going to the Draper temple, and they don’t rent clothes there. When we stopped for gas, I sent a text to everybody I could think of to see if anybody had extras that he could borrow. Before long, everybody was combing their neighborhoods for extra sets of clothes. Eventually Shayler called to tell me that his parents, who live in Colorado, had gone there without clothes (the temple clothes, of course – I’m sure they were actually wearing other clothes when they arrived – but it’s amusing to visualize) and the temple had some for out-of-towners to borrow, so it turned out that Dad could (and did) borrow clothes from the temple, so that was eventually resolved, but not without a bunch of scrambling around and panicking first, which is always a fun addition to any trip.

We eventually made it to Draper and met Joanna and Shayler at Wendy’s for something to eat before the session. Afterwards, we were all standing together in front of the temple, trying to decide what to do next. We wanted to go eat somewhere but had no idea where. Everybody was chatting, and Dad was having a hard time hearing us. He got a bit frustrated and groused that we weren’t including him in the discussion and that we were all laughing at him because he couldn’t hear. I told him quite seriously that we weren’t laughing about it, we were crying. And that’s the truth! How about we all pitch in a few bucks and get him a new set of hearing aids? They’ve got to have better ones that what he has!

Somebody mentioned Chuckorama, and everybody stampeded to their cars. Even though we were a pretty big group (10) and it was a Saturday night, we didn’t have to wait long for a table. Everything was really good and we had a great time.

We went to Joanna and Shayler’s place to spend the night. They have a second bedroom with Joanna’s old twin bed in it, so Dad slept in there. I brought my air mattress, and I slept on it in the living room. Joanna and Shayler’s church starts at 9 AM, so we were up early the next morning, competing for their one bathroom. Joanna got in there first and then came to wake me up when it was my turn, calling “Wakey wakey!” (I wonder where she got that?) She also aimed her hair dryer at me every time I passed her in the hall, saying “Whoops!” I swear, everything I did to those kids when they were growing up is coming back to haunt me now. Next they’ll be vacuuming up spiders and chasing me around with the vacuum cleaner.

Dad had brought a melon from his garden for us to have for breakfast on Sunday morning. He had explained to me that he had skipped eating any on Saturday morning just so we could have some on Sunday. We had put it in the fridge Saturday night. As I was getting ready in the bathroom, I could hear him talking to Joanna. She was telling him that it was his turn to get in the shower, and he kept saying that he was afraid that if he left us alone with the melon, we would eat it all and he wouldn’t get any. And, after all, he didn’t even get any Saturday morning. She eventually convinced him it was safe to get in the shower, but as soon as he closed the bathroom door, she decided to hide the melon from him. She grabbed it out of the fridge and put it in the ice chest I had brought. Then we sat and happily anticipated his return to the kitchen. Of course, the first thing he did when he returned to the kitchen was selecting a knife from her knife block (“none of these are very sharp”) and opened the fridge. He looked. He looked some more. Finally he asked, “what happened to the melon?!” Joanna sang out, “I guess it got eaten!” I got to watch him chase Joanna around the apartment and attempt to choke her when he caught her. Then we had some cantaloupe!

I was sitting at the kitchen table putting on my makeup and Dad, happily eating his melon, was sitting there with me and providing a running commentary on what I was doing. How many face lotions do I need, anyway? And why am I putting on another kind of powder? What’s that stuff on your eyes supposed to do? When he suggested that I needed more blush to try to better attract a new husband, I called Joanna back into the kitchen and told her that the potatoes for dinner needed peeling NOW and we put him to work at the sink. (She said it could wait until after church, but I assured her that it couldn’t!)

We walked to church. Joanna and Shayler’s current calling is to teach Gospel Doctrine in Sunday School, so of course we had to stay for that. (Dad complained that we were skipping Relief Society and Priesthood Meeting, but I told him that since we usually escape after Sacrament Meeting, we were making improvements, slowly working our way up to the full three hours.) After Sacrament Meeting I visited the ladies’ room, and I guess I took longer than expected, because when I joined them in the Sunday School class, Joanna and Shayler were already up front teaching the lesson. As I sat down next to Dad, he loudly announced, “DO YOU FEEL BETTER NOW?” My reply to him – SHH!

We had a nice dinner with Joanna and Shayler and then began our journey back home. In between falling asleep, he woke up and complained that I wasn’t talking much. I was secretly listening to my iPod with one ear bud. I needed a little peace and quiet! We parted ways in Cedar City and both made it home alive. It was a short trip, but a fun one!

Adventures with Grandpa -- Trip to Washington 2010 Chapter 5

2010-08-03T10:39:00.000-07:00

ODOMETER: 1,526
Here we go with the fifth and final chapter of this edition of “Adventures with Grandpa.” If you think this has dragged on forever, imagine what it was like to experience it firsthand!

We got up early and left Ron’s house about 6:00 AM. Ron’s daughter had wanted to cook breakfast for us that morning and Uncle Frank wanted to pack us a lunch before we left, but we were (or I was) anxious to get on the road. Vera had the afternoon off! We had to get there! We didn’t get very far down the road, though, before Dad announced that he wanted to stop and visit a friend in Redding on the way, someone he “hasn’t seen in 50 years.” I was getting the idea that this might be an elderly person, and to be honest I wasn’t excited about it. Dad was sure that we would only be there for a couple of minutes, but you know how that goes. I can’t remember the woman’s name, but Dad called her with his cell phone to tell her we were passing through and wanted to stop and see her. She said that she would love to see us, but she had an important appointment that day and wouldn’t be home until around 3:00 PM. Since we would be passing through Redding more like 11:00 AM (even earlier if I had any say in it), Dad decided that we wouldn’t be able to stop. DARN!

Another thing that Dad has always done whenever we are driving toward California is sing, “California, here I come. Right back where I started from.” Unfortunately, that’s the only part of the song that he knows, so he sings just those two phrases over and over again. He’s done this all my life, and this trip was no exception. He also likes to sing a variation of our national anthem, the punch line of a joke he heard many years ago, “Jose, Can you See?” He repeats that one phrase over and over again, chuckling to himself, and will tell the joke AGAIN if you let him (I didn’t). When he isn’t singing one of those things, he amuses himself by singing, “Only 597 more miles to go. 597 more miles to go. High ho the dairy-oh, only 597 more miles to go,” every time we pass another mile marker with the mileage to our next destination on it. I can remember us kids singing that song when we were traveling as a family and it used to drive Mom crazy. Now I know where we got it! (He admitted to me that it irritated her when he sang it, too.) As a child I didn’t understand her irritation. Believe me, I do now!

A description of the trip also wouldn’t be complete without listing a few of his driving habits. During the first part of our trip (up through Nevada), I felt safe letting him drive. Wide open spaces, nobody on the road, a few animals here and there, not much to worry about. Driving on freeways in heavy traffic, though, can be a bit (even more than a bit) scary. He complains about the cruise control in my car, saying that it didn’t work. I ask him if he turned it on. He answers yes; in fact he turned it on twice to make sure it was working. I would have to try to explain to him that if he pushed the button twice, he likely turned it off again. He couldn’t seem to recognize the little light that comes on in the dash when the cruise control is on. He also likes to speed up and slow down, just using the cruise control instead of the gas pedal and brake, which can also be pretty crazy in heavy traffic. Then there’s more complaining about how it isn’t working right. In my mind I’m thinking, “If you would just flippin’ stop friggin’ messing with it, maybe just maybe it would!” Outwardly I’m just bracing for impact.

In addition to constant complaints about the cruise control, he was always adjusting the height of the steering wheel. There we are, careening down the freeway at 70+ miles per hour, and he decides to make an adjustment. He releases the lever, moves the steering wheel, and then tries to hold the steering wheel in place while fumbling around to try to find the lever to tighten it again. Meanwhile we are passing semis and zooming around corners. He couldn’t seem to tighten the steering wheel again, so there we were, driving along with a steering wheel that is flopping all around. It’s a miracle I have any hair left at all. Meanwhile, he is wondering why I don’t take a nap while he’s driving.

Back to the trip, we drove along, passing through Oregon, California, and down towards Sacramento. When Dad was driving, I relieved my anxiety by texting Vera and attempting to laugh it off. It’s either laugh about it or cry! We finally arrived at Wiscombe Funeral Home midafternoon. I doubt that there are many other visitors there who fall out of their cars and kiss the ground when they arrive! Vera came outside to greet us and led us inside. She noticed me furtively glancing around and laughingly told me that there were currently no “customers” present. What a relief! Shawn Wiscombe, who lived in Caliente for a number of years and was even Dad’s neighbor for a while there, came downstairs to talk to us. He plans to sell the mortuary and move to Texas. I was worried for a moment that Vera would follow him there (it would be even harder to visit her there), but she wants to stay in California. The mortuary is adjacent to the University of California Davis campus, and Dad mentioned that when he was choosing his college, the final decision was between UCD and Utah State. He enjoyed looking at the campus and thinking about what his life might have been going there. It’s kind of mind-boggling to think what a difference that choice might have made to our entire family’s existence! Funny how small decisions can change everything.

We had a grand tour of the facilities. Very interesting! Then we went to Vera’s place, a cute apartment. We sat down to chat for a bit before going to dinner. I thought I was doing my best to include Dad in the conversation, but before long, snoring sounds came from his side of the sofa. That meant that it was safe for Vera and me to have a REAL conversation! Just talking without repeating, explaining, and rewording for Dad’s benefit!

After Dad woke up from his nap we went to a nice Italian restaurant. Then we went on a long stroll through an arboretum that’s maintained by UCD. They have a lot of plants that are labeled with their common and Latin names, so of course we had to stop every three steps or so to read another sign and examine the plant. Of course this doesn’t mean that we only analyzed the plants that were labeled. We looked at unlabeled plants, too, and tried to divine their origins. And of course there was later the inevitable quiz. Anyone who has spent any time at all with Dad knows this drill well.

I guess I shouldn’t tell this part of the story (TMI), but here I go anyway. (Besides, I asked Vera, and she said I should go ahead!) When we first arrived at the arboretum, Dad tooted (it was just a little one), and I thought it sounded just like a quack. I looked over at Vera and asked, “Did he just step on a duck?” We grinned maniacally at each other and I started to tell her a few family stories on the subject (mainly starring her father, my mother, and one of my old boyfriends). Right then we turned the corner and there they were … some ducks, floating serenely on the river. It really tickled me and I started to giggle so hard that my vision blurred and I could hardly walk. Vera had to elbow me a few times to get me back on track. Dad apparently didn’t notice my hysteria and continued to examine all the plants, commenting on their history and origin, which got me going even worse. I guess you had to be there, but the memory still causes my eyes to leak a little.

After touring the arboretum for a few hours, we returned to Vera’s house, where she graciously slept on the couch so that I could have her bed and Dad slept in her second bedroom. We (Vera and I) stayed up too late chatting, but it was worth it. It was so nice, such a fun visit.

ODOMETER: 2,061
Early the next morning we got up and headed for home, another long, arduous drive. I have one more description to tell before I finish this long thing and get it published. It happened not long after we left Vera’s place. We were driving over Donnor’s Pass, and I was behind the wheel. Dad decided it was time for breakfast, so he got out his little plastic bowl and poured in some cereal, but he couldn’t find his spoon. I told him that I might have one in the console or glove compartment of my car, so he dug through them, but the best he could find was a spork, one of those fork/spoon things they give you at Taco Bell. I tried to tell him that it would work okay, but he wanted his spoon, so he decided to crawl to the back of the car to look for it. He undid his seat belt and proceeded to climb into the back, crawling across all of the junk we had piled back there (it seemed so full of stuff, I’m not sure how we managed to put Amanda’s cedar chest in there, too – Vera can attest to it, she had to attempt to ride back there between the mortuary and her apartment the day before). Keep in mind that we are traveling down a mountainous, curvy road and I am speeding around corners. There was an occasional THUMP from the back of the car where Dad bumped against one side or other of the car as he searched. I was also nervous that in his return to the front seat, he might kick me in the head or something (memories from long trips with my siblings and me crammed in the back of a station wagon kept returning). He never found his spoon, though, and eventually returned empty-handed. He resigned himself to using the spork. He pulled out his bottle of Caliente tap water, poured it over his cereal, and ate.

We made it back to Caliente about 3:30 PM. We loaded my newly-refurbished bird cage (it was falling apart and Dad fixed it for me – he originally made it for me many years ago) and I was on my way.

ODOMETER – 2,796. Home again, home again, jiggity jig! I survived another adventure with Grandpa!

Adventures with Grandpa -- Trip to Washington 2010 Chapter 4

2010-07-26T15:41:00.000-07:00

ODOMETER 1366 (still) – the flip side

When Dad and I first started talking about going on this trip, he said that he would like to come back through Oregon and visit Uncle Frank. I suggested that maybe we could go see Vera, too, while we were driving around. We decided to check into it. We worked the mileage numbers a couple of times and I just couldn’t see how we could do it without taking an extra day. If we drove from Cristie’s place to Uncle Frank’s place and then on to Vera’s place on Monday, that would be 725 miles, a bit far for one day’s drive, especially since we wanted to be able to spend time with both Uncle Frank and Vera on that same day (plus I wanted to see Cousin Ron, too, since Uncle Frank lives near him now). Driving from Vera’s place to Caliente (575 miles) plus me driving the rest of the way to Vegas (160 miles) on Tuesday was 735 miles, another really long day, and I had to be back to work on Wednesday. It just didn’t seem possible. A week or so before the big trip I was hashing it out with Dad over the phone (again) and finally I told him that the only way we could do it is if we left Cristie’s place after church on Sunday and traveled part of the way then. I didn’t know if Dad would want to go for it, since he hates to drive on Sunday, but I guess his wish to visit his brother and Vera won out, so he agreed to it. Of course Cristie and her family were bitterly disappointed that we were leaving them a day early, but them’s the breaks. (Actually, they were probably celebrating.)

My plan was that we would leave Cristie’s house and go to Uncle Frank’s place. Since that was only about 190 miles, I figured we could hang out there for a few hours and then drive further towards Vera’s place before stopping for the night. It would make Monday’s drive shorter and we could spend more time with Vera. She had told me that she could get off work for the afternoon, so I wanted to get there as early as possible. The day after my discussion with Dad, I sent an e-mail to both Uncle Frank and Cousin Ron, telling them that we were going to be in their town on Sunday, June 20 (which also happened to be Father’s Day), probably mid-afternoon. I said that we would like to stop and visit them for a bit if they were available. I sent off the e-mail just before going to lunch that day. By the time I came back, I had responses from both of them. Ron said that Dad had called Uncle Frank and told him that we were spending the night there, and two of Ron’s sons were going to be out of town that day, so he offered those two bedrooms for us to stay. Uncle Frank’s e-mail said basically the same thing. My dad, the big blabbermouth! I should have known he’d jump onto the phone immediately! So much for my plans!

Cristie told me that her church is a half hour away from her house and in the direction we were leaving town, so she suggested that we leave from church (probably another excuse to get rid of us sooner), so that’s what we did. We went to church and then got in the car to drive to Uncle Frank’s place. The car was getting very low on gas, so we needed to stop at the next available gas station to fill up. I was also eager to change out of my church clothes. We drove off into the rainy, curvy, mountainous roads and passed several small towns without a gas station. I was starting to get worried that we were going to run out of gas. Finally, in a little town called Elba (yes, the same name as the place where Napoleon was exiled—I don’t know why that seemed appropriate), we found a gas station. I left Dad in charge of filling up (it was an old pump and we had to get help operating it from a friendly passer-by), grabbed my clothes, and headed inside, only to be told that they didn’t have a bathroom. As I gaped at the woman in astonishment, she suggested that we go to the train depot down the street. Over $3.50 per gallon for gas, and no bathroom. Elba, indeed. We drove on.

Further down the road, we stopped so I could change. Dad didn’t understand why we couldn’t just keep going to Uncle Frank’s place and I could change there, but I didn’t much like the idea of arriving and saying “Hi-where’s-the-bathroom?” Since I was driving, I exited the freeway and stopped at a Wendy’s. Dad said he would just stay in the car. I went inside, used the bathroom, changed my clothes, bought a Frostee for Dad, and returned to car. The car was empty and, of course locked. No Dad and no car keys. There I stood in the cold, wearing short sleeves and crop pants with sandals, clutching Dad’s Frostee and my purse in one hand and a bundle of church clothes and high heeled sandals falling out of the other. (I could add drama to the story by saying it was also raining, but at that moment it had stopped. And people think I exaggerate!) I walked in and out of Wendy's a few times, but no Dad in sight. I thought about trying to call him, so I pulled out my cell phone and saw that Cristie had called a couple of times (my phone was still on silent since being in church), so I stood by the car and called her back. Right when she answered, my car alarm started going off. If I was trying to be inconspicuous, that plan was over! It turned out that Dad had pocket-activated my car alarm while coming out of the Wendy's bathroom, but it took me a while to convince him that yes, that's our car blaring away, and not only did he set it off, he had to make it stop. And, of course, he didn’t want the Frostee (but he ate it anyway).

(In case you’re wondering why Cristie was calling, she had given us faulty directions and could have gotten us seriously lost while we were frantically searching for a gas station, but we were able to figure it out before we got too far afield. See, Cristie, I didn’t even mention that part! Aren’t you glad?)

We made it to Uncle Frank’s place and Dad’s neighbor, Bob, called Dad’s cell phone right when we were getting off the elevator. Bob had a gift for calling right when we were arriving somewhere. He called when we pulled into Brenda’s driveway, he called at Uncle Frank’s place, and again when we arrived at Vera’s. We were standing at Uncle Frank’s door and Dad motioned that I go ahead and knock, but I wanted Dad to be WITH me when we arrived, if you know what I mean! Finally Dad told Bob that he had to go and we went into Uncle Frank’s room. He is in one of those nice facilities with a private apartment upstairs (Uncle Frank’s is a one-bedroom with a kitchen and everything) and a dining room downstairs where they serve meals. Uncle Frank had made arrangements for us to eat dinner with him, but dinner time was a couple hours away. I sat down between Uncle Frank and Dad, and the fun began. Imagine sitting between two older men, and neither one can hear very well. Uncle Frank would say something, and I would have to turn and repeat it to Dad. Then Dad would respond and I would have to turn back to repeat it to Uncle Frank. And on and on and on. It wasn’t very long before the whole process was getting very old. The afternoon seemed to drag on forever and I was wishing that we had stayed at Cristie’s church for the classes! Uncle Frank did have the cutest dog, though. It’s a Corgi, and they aren’t allowed to walk them in the building, so Uncle Frank had a little red wagon leaned against the wall for the dog to ride in when he takes her in and out of the building. Uncle Frank had her do a bunch of tricks for me, and she was so cute. It’s so nice that the people living there can have pets.

Eventually Ron arrived, and we went for a tour around the building before going to eat dinner. In the recreation room we had a little contest throwing bean bags at a target, and I was able to demonstrate that I can’t throw at all. At dinner, they have young girls waiting on the tables and serving the food, and they were so cute with the elderly people living there. The food was really good, too; we had prime rib! It was all very nice. Partway through the dinner, Ron’s daughter called; she had accidentally locked herself out of the house, so he had to rush home and let her in. Good thing it’s only five minutes away! Also during dinner, Ron suggested that he and I go back to his house to talk so that Dad and Uncle Frank could “catch up” there. Dad immediately seemed suspicious. Where were we going? What were we going to do? I thought it was kind of funny. It’s like he thought we were going to get into trouble or something. After dinner we returned to Uncle Frank’s apartment and Ron mentioned it again. I grabbed my coat and we left.

Ron is very musical, and even back in high school he rigged old equipment so that he could record himself playing the different musical parts and harmonizing all by himself. Now he has equipment where he can record 12 different parts himself. I’ve always liked listening to his music, so he played some for me. He participates in a gospel group with some other musicians, and they had some original songs that he played for me, too, that were really good. After that, we just talked. His wife, Jean Ann, died about a year ago, and he told me all about that. He himself was diagnosed with cancer a couple of years ago, and his own future is uncertain. He is on a cancer medication that he takes every day, and his cancer hasn’t advanced for several years. He believes his cancer has been held in check by prayer, and I admire his faith and devotion. As I’ve said in prior blogs, we don’t share the same religion, but we do share the same faith in Jesus Christ. It’s always fun to talk to him about that.

Eventually Dad and Uncle Frank arrived, and after a bit more chatting and some brownies baked by Ron’s daughter, we all went to bed. It was a very nice visit, and I’m glad that Dad blabbed about us spending the night there. We got up early the next morning and continued on our journey.

Next chapter: Visiting Vera and goin’ home.

Adventures with Grandpa - Trip to Washington 2010 Chapter 3

2010-07-23T13:40:00.000-07:00

ODOMETER 1366 -- bump bump bump … another one rides the bus!

We finally made it to Cristie’s place. Hooray! The weather was so nice – cool and cloudy and rainy. Some might not consider that good weather, but when you’re from Vegas, you really come to appreciate something that is something other than hot, DANG hot. Cristie has a really nice house and her back yard is enormous. There’s a little play house on stilts that I can just see my grandkids climbing into (not me, babe). Her back porch is probably about the size of my whole back yard. Anyway, I attempted to sleep in on Friday morning, but somewhere around 10:00 I heard Cristie backing her school bus into its parking space next to the house (“beep…beep…beep”), so I decided to get up. Of course Dad was already up, had been for hours, I’m sure (no “wasting daylight” for him).

Cristie offered to let us go on her kindergarten run (picking them up at the school and taking them home), so we jumped at the chance. It was pretty interesting, sitting there watching Cristie drive an enormous bus down the street and pick up a bunch of chattering kids. They were LOUD, and as she drove along, Cristie watched them in the mirror, constantly saying, “Crystal, sit down, honey. Billy, get back in your seat. Jacob, sit on your behind.” And on and on and ON. This was the second to the LAST day of school. I hate to think what they were like on the first day! One of them opened his back pack and took out his toys, which rolled down the aisle to the front of the bus and had to be confiscated until we got to his stop (not supposed to get toys out on the bus). Half a dozen of them left their papers and other things behind. They were hilarious. At some of the bus stops, mothers were waiting with gifts for Cristie. The gifts were passed back to me for safekeeping and of course I peeked: candles, note cards, earrings, candy. I swear, none of it jumped into my purse (much).

After the bus ride, Cristie dropped Dad and me back at her house while she finished driving her routes. Cristie had a gas grill in the back yard that she’d been having trouble putting together, so Dad and I went out there and finished the job. If there had been any propane in her tank, we would have fired it up!

Samantha came home from school and before long, she and Dad were out in that huge back yard kicking the soccer ball around, playing catch with a baseball, and doing a bit of batting practice. It made me tired just to watch them! I couldn’t fully represent my sister without taking a few pictures of this great Kodak moment, so I went inside and got Cristie’s camera and took a few shots. That used up the little bit of energy I had. (Like I said -- look at the size of that YARD!)

That evening we went to a graduation party at Hannah’s house, Amanda’s friend. Hannah and one of her sisters went to Nauvoo on a family trip with us a few years ago and she has gone on summer vacation a few other times with Cristie and her girls, so Dad and I felt that we know her, too. After eating grilled hamburgers and few other things there, we went shopping for a new dress for Amanda to wear at graduation. Sam and I had fun running around Ross finding more things we could try to beg Amanda into trying on. We weren’t very successful in getting her to try on much, but she did find a cute purple dress to wear (not that you could see it under her cap and gown). Sam found a dress she wanted to try on, too, but Cristie was pretty adamant that Sam couldn’t have any more new clothes, even if it was only $10. Before you know it, Dad had his wallet out and was ready to buy the dress for her. Sam and I raced to the fitting room so she could try it on before the opportunity disappeared or Cristie found out (whichever happened first), but the dress was too short, so the game was over. I thought it was so sweet of Dad, though, to want to buy it for her. (For those of you who may be wondering where I got so much energy after being too tired to even WATCH Dad and Sam play catch in the back yard … HELLO, this is SHOPPING!)

The next day, Saturday, was Amanda’s graduation. We had to be there early and I was afraid that there would be a lot of time sitting around bored, waiting for it to begin, and then the usual boring graduation thing. I’m sorry, but graduations are boring, even when it’s my own kids. BUT I was wrong! No boring sitting around before the ceremony!

Like I said, we had to be there early. Before we left the house, Cristie was busy on their front porch taking pictures of everybody in every conceivable combination. Me and Amanda. Sam and Amanda. Me and Dad and Amanda. Dad and Amanda. (You get the drift.) Amanda was getting impatient, worried about bad traffic on the way to the Tacoma Dome and the fear of being late, so we kind of rushed to the car when the photo shoot was over. We were at least half the way there when Amanda let out a wail that in the rush to leave, she had forgotten her saxophone, and she was supposed to play it in the senior band during graduation. She was upset. I suggested to Cristie that we drop Dad, Sam, and Amanda off at the Tacoma Dome. Dad and Sam could get seats for us while Amanda joined her classmates. Cristie and I would rush back home and get the saxophone. We agreed that it was worth a try. There was heavy traffic, but Cristie stopped at the crosswalk in front of the Tacoma Dome so that the others could get out. It was also pouring rain. Amanda and Sam got out of the car, but Dad, who apparently hadn’t heard what was being planned, continued to sit there in the back seat. Traffic was beginning to pile up and Cristie was feeling the pressure. After all, she could lose her job driving the school bus if she got a traffic ticket. I’m sorry to say that we yelled at poor Dad to GET OUT! GET OUT! He suddenly realized that he was being ejected from the car and into the rain and didn’t have any idea why, but probably years of being yelled at by Mom kicked in and he bailed. We roared off. I still feel a bit guilty when I remember the confused look on his face. There he was, innocently staring out the window when he was ordered out of the car. Oh well…we did apologize later, and he was fine with it. He said we just should have told him. We didn’t bother to explain that we tried. Sometimes it’s easier to just apologize and move on.

Cristie and I raced home and got the sax. I also grabbed some umbrellas, something else we had forgotten earlier. We rushed back, fighting even heavier traffic. It was almost time for the graduation to start when we got near, so I told Cristie to get out at the same crosswalk; I would park the car and walk in by myself. After all, it wasn’t my daughter that was graduating (and I wouldn’t be too heartbroken if I missed some of it … sorry, Amanda). I carried all five umbrellas into the stadium and got there right when it was starting (these things are always late). Amanda successfully played her sax with the rest of the band and graduated. And, of course, it had stopped raining by then and we didn’t need the umbrellas at all.

Next chapters -- visiting Uncle Frank and Vera!

Adventures with Grandpa -- Trip to Washington 2010 Chapter 2

2010-07-20T11:38:00.000-07:00

ODOMETER 707 – Twin Falls

We stopped in Twin Falls to get some gas. I left Dad in charge of pumping the gas while I went inside to visit the ladies’ room (okay, the female truckers’ lounge). When I wandered back out, there was a crowd around the cashier and I got there just in time to hear her tell Dad that someone else was pumping our gas! I elbowed my way up to the front and asked what was going on. Apparently the payment part of our gas pump wasn’t working and had instructions to pay inside. When Dad went to the counter to pay, they asked him for his pump number. He glanced outside, saw a dark blue car, and picked the number next to it. Wrong car, wrong number, and as luck would have it, the guy swiped his card right when the Dad’s card was authorized, so he innocently began pumping “our” gas. I looked at the cashier, and she said that they take no responsibility for these problems, and I’d better go get that guy before he drove away with our tank of gas. I didn’t know exactly how we were going to get our gas away from the guy at the pump, but I ran outside. Dad was still standing among the crowd at the counter, trying to figure out what happened. The cashier had shut off the pump as soon as we realized the mistake and fortunately the pump guy was on his way into the mini mart to find out why the pump stopped at $40 and change. I was glad that he didn’t get in his vehicle and peel out of the parking lot because I wasn’t sure how we were going to give chase before we filled up the car.

I explained to pump guy what happened, but he was sure his card was charged, so there was a bit more debate with the cashier about whose card had been authorized first, and the waiting crowd at the counter grew larger and more agitated. Pump guy yelled that it was the cashier’s fault for not looking out the window and checking the pump before she authorized Dad’s credit card. The cashier yelled that it wasn’t her job to check. Pump guy repeated that it was, and Dad, who by now realized what had happened, tried to make himself heard above the din to explain that he was to blame for not picking the right pump number. I was just trying to figure out how to get our $40+ from pump guy, get some gas from the correct pump, pick up some food, and get on our way. Eventually pump guy gave us the cash and Dad used it to pay for our gas. I was grateful that we didn’t run into more trouble with pump guy, and you would think that our encounter ended there, but I wandered to the back of the mini mart where the hot takeout food case was located and found myself standing in line next to pump guy and his wife and kids. Pump guy’s wife began singing the praises of the jalapeno corn dogs and the whole pump family gave me their evaluation of everything inside the case. They had no opinion on the chicken salad I was holding. I felt almost obligated to give the jalapeno corn dogs a try just out of gratitude for the easy resolution to the gas pump fiasco. As we awkwardly walked to our respective cars together, pump guy repeated his opinion that it was the cashier’s fault, I said that it was probably Dad’s fault, and we drove our separate ways.

Our next stop was Brenda and Andrew’s house in Boise. When we were planning this trip, Dad suggested possibly staying at their house that night. Dad had the assignment to do the asking part. Time passed, and when he called to nag me about other arrangements for the trip, I asked if he had talked to Brenda yet. No, he wanted to wait because Brenda just had a baby and it seemed too much to ask. Finally I started looking at the Boise hotels and realized that I had enough Country Inn points to stay in Boise for free, so I went ahead and made the reservation. I told Dad that we could go and visit Brenda and her family, but we would stay at the Country Inn. He seemed fine with that decision.

Back to this first day of the trip, somewhere between Twin Falls and Boise Dad suggested that we should just keep driving and get to Cristie’s place today. At first I said no, we already have this room reservation, and it’s still so far to go, but the more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea of getting the driving over with and having more time to spend at Cristie’s. We arrived at Brenda’s house; I hadn’t been there before and their house is so nice and the boys were so cute. Brenda even got the baby out of bed so we could hold him. That’s sacrifice, waking a sleeping baby! After relaxing for a few minutes I decided that I really liked the idea to keep driving to Cristie’s place, so I stepped outside and called the hotel to see if we could cancel and still get my points back. They said we could, so we were set! Dad tried to claim that he was just kidding when HE suggested we do this, but there was no turning back! The room was canceled! Cute little Keagan kept asking us if we would stay and eat dinner with them, and I kept saying we couldn’t, we had to get going, but it was so comfortable sitting and chatting with Brenda, Andrew, and the boys that we were still there when it was time to eat. There is no dragging Dad out the door when there’s food on the table, so we ate dinner and then drove on our way.

The drive took longer and was harder than I thought it would be. When we stopped in Pendleton to get gas we still had over 300 miles to go, and I was feeling a bit weary. I wasn’t necessarily tired, but I was eager to get there and get this over with. If I could have changed my mind about staying somewhere, I would have, but it was much too late! When I sent Cristie a text telling her how much further we had to go, she responded that they were going to bed and to call when we were getting near. That’s when I realized that they still had school the next day. If I had realized that, we probably wouldn’t have kept driving, but it was too late now! I regretted it even more when we hit fog further down the road. I hate driving in fog, it’s so scary! I tried not to think about any critters that might jump out in the road, too (wishing for that deer navigation area right about then). We kept going. Dad was falling asleep, so I decided I would plug in my iPod and listen to one of my own audiobooks (we had been making the usual attempts to listen to Dad-approved audiobooks on the trip without a lot of success). I would use my earbuds (actually just one of them). The problem was, the earbud case was in my purse, which was behind Dad’s seat. I reached behind him and carefully managed to tug the purse free without disturbing anyone (you know who). I rummaged through the purse and found the earbud case. Yay! Unfortunately, as I was trying to put the purse back behind the seat again, I managed to smack Dad in the head with it, waking him up completely. Game over! And I had been SO careful when I pulled it up front! After that, instead of going back to sleep, Dad would sit quietly for a while until I started to relax. Then he would make a really loud >>YAWN!!<< sound and about startle me out of my seat. After a couple hours of that, I was ready to ROCK him to sleep (you know, with rocks).

We finally arrived at Cristie’s place at 3:00 AM. We unloaded the car, staggered to our respective rooms, and collapsed. Everybody, that is, except Cristie. By then it was about time for her to get up and get ready to go drive the school bus! Poor Cristie!

Stay tuned for more …

Adventures with Grandpa -- Trip to Washington 2010 Chapter 1

2010-07-19T17:58:00.000-07:00

Okay, it’s time that I get busy on the latest chapter in the continuing saga of my “Adventures with Grandpa.” This one was quite an endeavor, the main purpose being to drive up to Washington for Amanda’s high school graduation. To be honest, I had not really been looking forward to the trip – 2,800 (okay, 2,796) miles of driving from a Thursday to a Tuesday – but all of the stops ended up being a lot of fun, so all was well!

ODOMETER: 0.0
My part of the trip began on Wednesday evening, June 16. I had planned to have everything in the car, packed and ready to go before I left for work Wednesday morning. Then I was going to drive up to Caliente right after work so that Dad and I could be ready to leave for the first part of the trip, to Boise, on Thursday morning.

The closer the departure date came, though, the more I thought that maybe I should just stay in Las Vegas overnight on Wednesday. I figured I could get up early on Thursday morning and drive to Caliente to pick up Dad and then onwards to Idaho. When I left the office on Tuesday evening I had pretty much decided that I wasn’t going to leave until Thursday morning. I mean, why unload everything for a few hours of sleep? Might as well do it Thursday morning! (I think I may have been trying to delay the departure just a tiny bit.) That idea stayed with me until Dad called when I was walking from my office to the parking lot that Tuesday evening. By the time I got home, Dad had convinced me that I had to drive to Caliente on Wednesday night. He said I could just sleep in my clothes and not unpack anything at all. I didn’t quite take it that far, but I guess he was right that I didn’t have to unpack everything. I would just put the stuff for that one night in a separate bag. I was up half the night Tuesday night packing everything and I hauled everything to my car on Wednesday morning so that I could leave after work.

I had planned to leave the office early on Wednesday. I filled the car with gas during my lunch hour. Cary, my boss, usually leaves at least an hour early, and I figured I could follow him out of the building, just as long as I didn’t beat him out of the parking lot. Of course, since that was my plan, Cary didn’t leave early. It happens every time! Finally at about 5:45 I told him I needed to leave, and I left. Before I even got to the freeway, Dad called, wanting to know how far away I was. I told him I just left, that I said I was leaving after work. I guess he forgot that I work until 6:00, not 5:00. Anyway, I was on my way.

Seconds after I arrived at Dad’s house, Cory, Melissa, and their three cute little boys arrived. Apparently they had driven past earlier and I wasn’t there yet, so they drove around the block and when they passed by the second time, I was there. By the time I returned from the bathroom, Dad had called Kevin and Ann and they arrived. It really made me feel loved, that they all came to see me before we left. (Maybe they wanted one last glimpse of me while I was still sane.) Anyway, I had a great time talking with them and playing a bit of hide and seek with Hafen.

The company left and we went to bed. I set the alarm on my cell phone for 5:00 AM. (Reader alert: this is probably TMI [Too Much Information], but here I go anyway.) As I mentioned earlier, I packed a tote bag with the bare essentials for that day of driving. When I was getting ready to leave that morning, I was horrified to realize that I had forgotten to put deodorant in my tote bag. It was in my suitcase, but that was buried somewhere in the car. I crept upstairs to Dad’s bathroom, hoping that I could find some there, but I had my doubts. Years ago I made the mistake of putting a stick of deodorant in Dad’s Christmas stocking. He was offended. He has never used deodorant in his life, he said, and what am I saying, that he smells bad? Of course I had to do the ole soft shoe and reassure him that I didn’t mean anything by it, I didn’t realize that he didn’t use it, of course he never smells bad, that Santa had made a big mistake, and I quickly took it back and tossed it in with Jared’s haul. So, based on that experience, I knew my only hope of finding deodorant in Dad’s bathroom was if Mom had left some behind. I poked around Dad’s bathroom with no success. All I could find was a can of Lysol spray. I sprayed a small squirt under each of my arms and hoped for the best. I’m happy to report that (as far as I could tell), it worked! So, I guess I have invented a new deodorant – Lysol!

We planned to leave at 6 AM, and it was actually about that time when we were going out the front door. Dad paused a bit and wondered what he might be missing. I asked him if he had his hearing aid. He said, “It’s here somewhere.” I told him, “That’s fine, but you aren’t allowed to get cranky if you can’t hear me.” Then we went on with the last-minute check list. Did he have his glasses? Check. Tooth brush? Yep. Pajamas? Oops, Dad meant to get those but forgot them. As he pulled open a drawer to pull out a pair, he mumbled that he doesn’t sleep in them anyway, he just sleeps in his underwear. I told him yeah, I like to sleep in my underwear, too, but people often object when I’m sitting down for breakfast like that. He agreed with that philosophy and stuffed his pjs into his duffle bag. (I know, TMI again, huh?)

ODOMETER 158: leaving Caliente.
Just past Pioche, after I had repeated and reworded something I already said a half dozen times, I reminded Dad about the rule about not getting cranky if he couldn’t hear me when I talk. He tried to claim that it also meant that I can't get cranky if he keeps saying, “Huh?” I said NO, that wasn't written in the rules! After thinking on that for a moment, he dug out his hearing aid and put it in his ear. Hurdle one crossed! (Unfortunately it’s a hurdle that wasn’t crossed just once.)

After we passed Wells, we hit some unfortunate delays. There were several areas where the highway was limited to one lane and we had to sit and wait for our turn to be guided through the area. We could see that they were building overpasses that went over the highway and some places where a pathway was being dug out under the highway, but there were no roads, railroad tracks, or even a river bed at those areas, so I couldn’t figure out what they were doing. Dad noticed a lot of fencing that he said was deer fence. Then I spotted a sign. They were putting in some “deer navigation areas,” and I’m not kidding, they were putting in all of that so the deer could cross the road! Now I’ve seen everything.

In between deer navigation delays, we passed the area where we wrecked our family car, where I almost drowned. I was just a baby, sleeping on the front seat between Mom and Dad. My brothers were asleep in the back seat. We were driving in the pouring rain, and when Dad tried to pass a truck, the car slipped off the road and rolled into a ditch. The driver of the truck Dad was passing stopped, but he wouldn't help Dad get all of us out of the wrecked car. He did, however, give us a ride to the closest gas station. The gas station building was still there, but it looked old and abandoned. I could just picture us there, wet and standing in the rain while Dad used the pay phone to call for help.

Also, the sight of the deer fence reminded Dad of one of his favorite deer hunting experiences. He was out hunting with a friend, I think Dad said his last name was Edwards, so I’ll just call him Ed. Anyway, Dad told Ed to drop him off at the bottom of a hill and to drive to the top and wait for him; Dad said he would send the deer up to where Ed would be waiting. In truth, “nature” was calling and Dad had other plans before he did any deer herding. While Dad was taking care of business, a deer wandered past. Dad pulled out his gun and shot the deer while squatting there with his pants down! I know, I know. TMI. It just seems like such a John Wayne moment, though …

More to come!

Adventures with Grandpa - The Lost Chapter

2010-06-25T12:24:00.000-07:00

I just returned from what might be the ultimate “Adventure with Grandpa,” driving up to Cristie’s place in Washington for Amanda’s graduation (and several other stops while on the trip), but before I get to that, Vera told me that she still wanted to read what I wrote about my trip to Caliente for Neal’s mission farewell, so I’m going to finish and post that first. I don’t know why I never finished it and posted it (I probably decided it was too boring – but when has that stopped me before), but here it is. It’s five months ago and memory has faded a bit, but I was thrilled that at least one person wanted to read it, so here I go!

That adventure began when I drove to Caliente to celebrate my nephew Neal’s mission departure. Uh oh, that didn’t sound right. We didn’t celebrate that he was leaving, we were celebrating that he made a great decision and is going on a mission and to say a fond farewell and best wishes.

Anyway, I was driving to Caliente that Friday, January 29. Joanna and Shayler were coming too, but they weren’t leaving until after they got off work. (I don’t work on Fridays, hooray!) I had an appointment that morning and then I had to pack, so I didn’t get out of town until midafternoon. I told Dad that I wasn’t leaving first thing in the morning, but by the time I got there, he was getting anxious. I think that the main reason for that was because I told him I was bringing dinner and he was getting hungry. We do have our priorities!

Joanna and Shayler were arriving late that night, so of course we had to stay up and wait for them. Since it’s been a few months since then, I don’t remember much about the waiting part, but maybe I’ve blocked out the memory, who knows? Anyway, they arrived and after much talking, we all went to bed. The next morning Dad and I were up early (actually I was up early, Dad was up REALLY early) and Dad suggested that we go for a walk. I had made a check of the supplies and suggested that we walk to the grocery store, where we could get some food for breakfast. He agreed, and off we went.

At the store Dad decided that he wanted to make an omelet, so we bought eggs, and he picked up some red and green peppers. I got milk and some bacon. I decided that I would like to have some hot chocolate, so I asked Dad if he had any at home. He said he was sure he did. Knowing the age of some of the stuff in his pantry, I asked him how old the hot chocolate mix at home was. He declared that it wasn’t that old. Feeling more suspicious, I then asked him, Dad, I have one question for you. Did MOM buy that hot chocolate? (As most readers know, Mom died over four years ago.) Dad said that OF COURSE Mom bought it! He wouldn’t be buying anything like that! Just what I thought! Then I had one more question for him: “How OLD was Mom when she bought that hot chocolate?!” As he sputtered, I picked out my favorite flavor, the mint hot chocolate, and put it in the basket.

We paid for our purchases and left the store. As we were checking out, Dad teased the checkout clerk about various things, but she just stared at him with a bored expression and didn’t respond. I guess she’s seen him in there before.

When we got home, I checked on Joanna and Shayler (still asleep) and hollered through the door that they needed to wake up because we were making breakfast. I returned to the kitchen to unpack the groceries. Much to my dismay, I found that the can of hot chocolate mix in the bag was the wrong flavor! As I began to moan, I noticed that it had been opened before. As it turned out, as soon as we got home and I wasn’t in the kitchen, Dad looked in his pantry and found his hot chocolate and switched it with the one we had bought. He’s always up to something! He got a good chuckle out of my reaction, anyway.

I was a bit skeptical of the omelet he was constructing. He chopped up the red and green peppers with some onion and added them to the egg, along with some cheese he had in the fridge. I can’t remember what else we made, except for the bacon or sausage we bought, but the omelet was really good. I was amazed! I think it might be called a “Western” omelet and I might try ordering it sometime. No, I didn’t say I would try MAKING it. Unless Dad is here to help!

A few hours later, Joanna got on the phone with Kevin’s family and found out that everybody was going to that restaurant thing adjacent to the mini mart at the gas station for lunch. (I can’t think of what it’s called. The name “Joe’s” sticks in my mind, but maybe it’s not right.) Dad kept dragging his feet about going (“we just ate”), so by the time we got there, we were just in time to see everybody in their cars, driving away! We accused them of planning it that way (being gone by the time we arrived), but I bet they were just hungry. We WERE pretty late.

We decided to go ahead and eat something. I asked Dad if he wanted to split a hamburger with me, but he said NO, he ISN’T HUNGRY, we JUST ATE! As I ordered, I turned and told Shayler that I bet Dad would end up helping me eat my burger. Joanna and Shayler ordered something. Dad had an ice cream cone.

By the time the burger was ready, Dad was done with his ice cream. He got a plastic knife and asked me to cut off a little piece so I cut it in half and gave it to him. As Dad happily ate it, Shayler was practically rolling on the floor, laughing about how I had “called it.” Hey, I know my dad.

Went over to Kevin and Ann’s place, where Kevin was stirring an enormous Dutch oven brimming full of chili on their grill. It was so full that even the gentlest stirring caused chili to slosh over the sides. I had fun standing and talking to Kev while he cooked. He showed me his new shed/garage building he had built, I admired his Rhino, and he offered to take me for a ride, but I didn’t have an adequate coat. Next time I’m gonna do it, though!

The rest of the day is pretty much covered in my other blog about Neal’s farewell. The chili was delicious. I always thought that my recipe was the best, but this totally beat it. It had a delicious smoky flavor that was really great. I’m not one that likes spicy things, and Neal was diluting his and eating large bites of corn bread (something else that was really good, and I don’t usually like corn bread very much, either), saying that it was too spicy for him, but I didn’t think it was spicy at all, just REALLY good. I’ll have to get that recipe!

Church the next day was really good. There was a gal who was getting ready to leave on her mission, too, and she spoke at the same meeting and hogged most of the time, but Neal did very well with the little time she left him. We had a nice dinner with everybody else at the church after the meeting, and I had fun talking to the family members who were there.

As always I stopped at Mom’s grave site on the way home to check in. I know she’s not really there, but I always like to stop by anyway.

Neal had told me about some of the places near Coyote Springs he had been working, and I tried to watch for them on the way home so I could say I saw them, but I’m not sure I picked out the right ones! But it was fun to watch the electrical lines and say to myself, “Neal worked on that. Didn’t he do good?!”

It was a very fun trip and I’m glad I went!

Coming up next – even more Adventures with Grandpa! You can look forward to reading it or blocking it, whichever you prefer!

The Last LR Update (at least for now) 4-2-10

2010-04-02T11:34:00.000-07:00

WELL, I’ve been trying to get this written all week, but with my long, busy days of work and short evenings of laziness combined, I just haven’t gotten it done. That’s my excuse and I’m sticking with it!

But I did (finally) live up to my earlier promise of returning to visit LR before he went home, and it was a great visit. He’s doing so much better, and last I heard they were supposed to turn him loose yesterday (Thursday). In fact, I just texted Jill for an update and she confirmed that yes, he did go home. I’m sure he’s thrilled to be home.

Last weekend I decided to drive down to Arizona, sort of spur-of-the-moment. I was laying on the couch on Thursday night, texting with Jill, when the decision to go suddenly hit me (possibly, maybe, SLIGHTLY because she was nagging and pestering me about it). It’s probably a good thing that the decision hit me right then because not much later, Jimmy found me asleep on the couch with my cell phone still clutched in my hand. Old age is creeping up on me.

So anyway, Friday morning I got my stuff together and set off for Arizona. I thought about surprising him, but that might be hard to do, since I didn’t know where he was (I knew he had been moved from the hospital to a rehab center), so I texted him that I was coming to see him. He seemed happy and sent me the address.

I drove directly to the rehab place, using my trusty navigator. I got there about 5:30, parked near the front door, and tried to walk in. That’s when I saw the sign on the door that said that from 5:00 PM to 7:00 AM, you have to use the north entrance. There were no arrows or anything indicating which way that might be. Being directionally challenged, I had no idea where north would be, so I turned right and hiked to the end of the building. There was a door, so I went on in. I found myself in a large commercial kitchen. I decided that maybe that wasn’t the north entrance, so I tiptoed back out and hiked the length of the building to the other end. The door down there was locked. I headed back to the front door, starting to feel annoyed. Why couldn’t they give just a tiny hint on where to FIND the north entrance? Then someone came out the front door, so I asked. The north entrance was around back. I got back in my car and found that all the signs and arrows on the pavement were one way around the building, and I would have to pull back onto a busy street and make a left in order to get back into the parking lot and go the correct way to get to the back of the building. By then I was totally annoyed and, in a burst of rebellion, I drove AGAINST THE ARROWS and went around back. A few employees were back there smoking, and they looked a little surprised to see someone careening around the building, going the wrong way, but by then I was just DARING someone to say something to me. They didn’t.

I went inside and started the fun process of actually FINDING my brother. Of course there was no one to ask, and the people I did ask couldn’t help me. There were names outside all of the rooms, so I started walking up and down the halls, looking for his name. I soon realized that the rehab center was more accurately described as what I would call a rest home. Everybody else in there was elderly, I mean ELDERly, and many looked pretty incapacitated, at least to my untrained eye. LR had to be the baby of the place, hands down! Some of the rooms looked like permanent residences, made up to look like a bedroom at home. One guy had team jerseys from various sports teams hanging from the curtains and other sports memorabilia everywhere. A lot of people had a pile of stuffed animals. I couldn’t help but think that we start life collecting stuffed animals and, by all appearances, we go out the same way. I saw a number of elderly women sitting motionless in the halls in wheelchairs with a couple of stuffed dogs or cats on their laps, and I thought how much nicer it would be if they could be comforted by a real dog or cat.

But I digress. As I mentioned before, I had already been annoyed by my adventures in the parking lot, just looking for an entrance, and now the fun continued as I searched for LR’s room. On and on I walked, examining every name plate, not finding him. I didn’t want to actually look into the rooms to find him. It seemed a total invasion of privacy and when I did glance inside, it was often a sad sight.

Finally, after a long march up and down the halls (and passing twice the same guy in a wheelchair, slumped to the side with his shirt pulled up, exposing a birthmark next to his belly button) I asked for more help. After the employee said they couldn’t help, I asked for directions on who COULD help and I moved on to someone else who couldn’t help, but eventually I did find someone to help. It turned out that they had just moved LR to another room and hadn’t gotten around to putting his name plate on the door yet. JUST MY LUCK! Of course I had passed his room several times.

All of my aggravation melted away, though, when I saw my brother. He was sitting in his wheel chair, and his bed was neatly made next to him. I commented that it didn’t look like he’d been in the bed for a while, and he said he tried only to use it at night when it was bedtime. Sitting in a wheelchair was an improvement from always lying in bed, which is what he had done for weeks. When I hugged him, I could tell it was an effort to lift his arms and hug me back. He definitely was still very weak, but working at getting his strength back. A couple of times a day he took a turn around the hall using a walker, and I was impressed about how determined he plugged along. You almost had to jog to keep up with him! It reminded me of when I visited Dad in the hospital after he had his cancer surgery. When we were doing laps in the hall with him, he actually tried to break into a run. (He definitely left Mom in the dust.) Like father, like son!

LR is still struggling to eat. The damage done to his throat is still healing, and he can only eat a small amount at a time, but he’s working at it. He has lost something like 40 pounds since he got sick. His legs and arms, as I said, are still very weak, but he is working to get them back.
I spent a lot of the day on Saturday with him, and that evening Rhonda babysat Jill and Jared’s kids so they could go out, and I stayed with LR. We watched a movie and snacked. (I snacked, he nibbled, but he made sure that the nurse knew he was eating. Had to write it down and get credit for every morsel!)

It was a wonderful visit, seeing LR, and being with Jill and her family was a nice bonus, as always. It gave my heart the peace it needed, to see him awake and getting better.

As I was leaving to drive home on Sunday around noon, Kadence decided she was going to go home with me. She climbed into the back seat of my car and wouldn’t budge. I tried to talk her out of the idea. I thought I had her convinced when she got out of the car and went back in the house. A few minutes later, though, she returned, carrying her Phineas, Ferb, and Perry stuffed dolls (which incidentally I bought her for Christmas). Apparently my argument “no toys at grandma’s house” argument sunk in. She sat in that seat for a long time while Jared tried to help me by changing a couple of fuses in my car under the dash. I told Kadence that Jacob would miss her, her mom and would miss her, she didn’t have any clothes, she would miss her mom and dad and Jacob, and there was no convincing her. Finally she had to be pulled from the car. We thought about calling her bluff and driving down the street with her in there, thinking that she would change her mind, but we were afraid she would call OUR bluff, which is what probably would have happened!

Thanks again to everyone, family and friends, for all of your love and prayers.

Really new LR Update - 3/19/10

2010-03-19T16:48:00.000-07:00

WELL, it's been a while since I did an update, so here we go!

LR sent me this first picture yesterday with the caption, 'Look Mom, no bed!" I sent him back a text saying, "HE'S ALIVE!" (The younger generation might not get the 'Young Frankenstein' reference, but at least I thought it was funny.)

He's finally been able to get out of bed and sit up. On Wednesday evening they transferred him from the hospital to a physical rehab facility, still in the Phoenix area. I asked him what needed rehabbing, other than his attitude (little sister joke), and he said that his arms and legs are very weak from the lack of oxygen he suffered during transport between hospitals and he still can't walk. So he's getting a lot of physical therapy and stuff like that to try to build up his strength.

Most of my communications with him have been texts, so when I got this new picture today with the flowers from the school where he works, I decided to call him. That's when I found out that he is still struggling with getting his voice back. He's a little bit hard to understand. He said that he is also working with a speech therapist, trying to get his throat back to normal and build strength there too, something damaged by both the lack of oxygen and the ventilator and everything else they had to stick down there to save his life. Whatever it takes!

I asked him today how his legs are doing, and he said that he has graduated from a wheel chair (just sitting up in a wheel chair was an accomplishment at first) to beginning to use a walker, so things are slowly improving. Who would have thought a month or two ago that he'd soon be excited to use a walker?!

Hey, I just got a brilliant idea. He now has his phone with him and I know he gets unlimited texts, so how about this: Everybody out there who has texting on their phones, send him a text! Let's flood him with texts and let him know that he is loved!

If he won't immediately know who you are, start with that ("Hi, this is Igor, Karen's neighbor"). Then say get well, glad you're better, stop being so lazy, whatever you want! Here's his cell phone number:

928 551 1118

Go get him! And if you want to, come back here and give us a report!

Karen

Newest LR Update - 3/13/10

2010-03-13T18:17:00.000-08:00

Good news!

After the miserable day he had on Thursday, LR was given a blessing. On Friday, things started turning around for him. He has been able to eat a little bit of soft food without choking, and Rhonda got him the glass of water he's been dying for since he woke up. (I guess we shouldn't use the term "dying for" but there it is.) At about 3:00 this morning (Saturday), they moved him out of the ICU and into a regular room.

When I called Rhonda for an update this morning, she actually put him on the phone and I got to talk to him! He's a little hard to understand, I guess because of the damage done to his throat, but other than that he sounded good.

One thing that he said surprised me. The doctors had discussed where to fly him if they couldn't treat him in podunk-ville (wherever it was he was first taken by ambulance), and he thought they were taking him to Las Vegas! He didn't know he was in Phoenix until a day or two after he woke up. It would have been so nice, to have him here in my town. It was really great having him so close to Jill and Jared, but having him HERE ... well, you know! At the time, though, they decided to take him to the closest hospital that had the facilities he needed, so I guess that was the best decision. The other alternative was Albuquerque, and THAT would have been BAD, so I guess I'll accept where he ended up without too much grumbling. They did help him get better, after all.

I asked him if anybody had asked how much longer he would be in the hospital (something that wasn't even thought of only a few days ago) and he said probably another week or so. The lungs still need work and so does the solid food thing, but as it is, things look really good.

A big thank you to everyone, my wonderful friends and family, for your thoughts, prayers, fasting, and especially your love.

Karen

Newer LR Update 3-11-10 Prayers Still Needed

2010-03-11T20:39:00.000-08:00

LR and Rhonda had a tough day today. It seems like with these things, you take two steps forward and one step backward. After the good advances yesterday, today was a bit of a setback.

First of all, LR was not able to swallow any food today, and he wasn't even able to suck on an ice cube without choking. The doctors fear that there may have been some damage to his throat, and Rhonda is really not sure what they plan to do about it. Today both the nurse and the doctor had heavy foreign accents, and she had trouble understanding what they were trying to tell her. They may have to put the feeding tube back, but they are reluctant to do it because he obviously already has problems there. We suppose that further tests and procedures will be needed if the problem continues.

Also, his lungs are still pretty weak. One lung has cleared up pretty well, but the other is still pretty cloudy and there is a problem with them filling with liquid. He was able to sit up a bit today, and he said that he could breathe easier when sitting up, but of course he can only sit up for a few minutes at a time.

Rhonda is also a little concerned about LR's mental functions. He seems to understand what is said to him. She has to repeat some things that are said, but she hopes that maybe he just wasn't paying attention. However, when he talks to her, he is talking very slowly. She doesn't know if that's a result of his damaged throat or if his mental capacity isn't fully functioning, either because of his illness and basic weakness or something worse.

We knew that LR was deprived of oxygen while he was being transported between hospitals. She found out today that the oxygen on the plane wasn't working at all and the only reason LR is alive today is because the emergency tech manually squeezed the round ball thing (sorry, Matti, I have no clue what it's called!) for the entire 45 minutes. Some may say that it was just his job. I say, thank heavens for you, angel from above, and may God bless you.

So, the news for today is that we need to keep LR in our prayers. We need to pray for total recovery for his mind and his body. Rhonda has asked Jared, my son-in-law, to come and give him a blessing tonight. Let's join with our prayers that he will be well soon.

Karen

New LR Update - 3/10/10

2010-03-10T19:03:00.000-08:00

I spoke with Rhonda this afternoon, and there's very good news!

First of all, the kidney specialist has declared that he's not coming back. LR's kidneys are functioning again and all is well in that neighborhood!

The ventilator was removed today! He still has some oxygen from a tube in his nose, but the ventilator is gone and he has been able to whisper a bit. I guess it will take his throat a little while before his vocal chords are back to normal. (Some might consider that a blessing.)

They tried to feed him a little applesauce, but the first spoonful caused him to choke, so I guess he's not quite ready for solid food, but they'll try that again tomorrow.

So the improvements are coming quickly and I am so grateful. Prayer and fasting works!

Love to all...
Karen

LR Update - 3/9/10

2010-03-09T15:14:00.000-08:00

It's been a few days since I've had both the time and energy (at the same time) to post something, so here we go. I'll try to keep it brief, but you know me!

My last post was Saturday night, when we weren't able to go see him all day. Loren and Carolyn were there and Jared, April and Angela (known hereafter as JA&A) were on their way. They wanted to come earlier in the day, but April couldn't find anyone to work her shift, so they didn't leave Utah until after 10:00 PM that night. Kids these days!

On Sunday morning, Loren and Carolyn and family left to go home. Jill and Jared's Sacrament Meeting starts at 2 PM, so we thought we would go see LR before church. Rhonda and Dad left for the hospital and I got ready for church and followed them. It was pouring rain all day, which made everything more complicated. So much for fixing your hair for church!

When I got inside I saw that JA&A had finally arrived after driving all night. They had been there for a couple of hours but couldn't find anyone to help them get in to see their dad. Rhonda's cell phone hasn't been working very well and some nurses wouldn't let her take it into LR's ICU room with her, so contacting her can be difficult. We took our turns going in to see him (remember, only two at a time, and you have to get all suited up first). The doctor said that they might try to let him start waking up on Monday, so that was good news. I was sad that we were leaving Monday morning, but he probably doesn't need a lot of excitement when he first opens his eyes anyway.

We figured we needed 45 minutes to get to church, but just when we were getting ready to leave, one of the doctors showed up, this time the kidney specialist. He said that LR's kidney function has continued to improve, which is good. Then we had just started out the door again when the couple from LR and Rhonda's ward who were bringing her car to her showed up. Of course we had to stop and talk to them for a few minutes. We were finally rushing out into the rain with about 20 minutes until church time when we got on the freeway and found it at a standstill. A major pileup had occurred, three wrecked cars probably 100 feet off the freeway and one on its roof. After creeping along the freeway for a half hour, we dropped JA&A at Jill and Jared's place to get some rest and made it to church for the last half hour of Sacrament Meeting. Well, we tried to get there on time! I hope not partaking of the sacrament didn't cancel out our fast! (JK)

After the meetings we went back to Jill and Jared's place to cook dinner, and eat it, and relax a bit. Rhonda and I decided to go back to hospital to get her car (we had left it there when we left for church) and so I could see him once more before I have to leave town the next day. We didn't bother calling for permission, we just showed up! We found out the night before what happens when you ask for permission! LR looked pretty much the same as he did that morning. His blood pressure numbers looked really strange to Rhonda and I. They were in the range of 85/75. (85 over 75), and the top number would occasionally drop below 80, and an alarm would start beeping. No one else seemed worried, though. Finally when we were leaving we talked to the nurse on duty, and she said it was from the heavy sedation he was under. She said that they had to increase the dosage to keep him calm. We sure hoped it was okay.

On Monday morning, JA&A left for home before I got up. A few hours later, Dad and I got on the road for home, too. Rhonda told me that when she got to the hospital Monday morning, the plans for bringing LR out of the sedation were canceled. One of his lungs had partially collapsed. The doctor said that they would have to wait and see if it didn't re-inflate itself. Not a happy prospect! I guess these things are like that ... two steps forward, one step back.

When I called Rhonda this morning, though, they had just stopped the sedation and it was wakey wakey time! As I spoke to her, he opened his eyes. I called again this afternoon, and she said that he had been basically fading in and out of consciousness all day. This morning the oxygen they were giving him was at 35 percent. Twice today they tried to get him to breathe on his own, but he couldn't do it. He still had the ventilator down his throat so he couldn't talk, and a few times his throat got clogged, but he motioned to Rhonda that he couldn't breathe, so they cleared him out. His blood oxygen level dropped a bit after the breathing-on-your-own fun was over, so they had to boost his oxygen back up to 40 percent. They will try again tomorrow, and when he can manage it, they will take out the ventilator.

LR's blood pressure has been a little higher than it should be while he's been off the sedation, but I'm sure he's feeling a lot of stress over his situation.

Another thing -- Rhonda said that when she told him I had been there, his blood pressure took a little jump. Good news or bad?! Happiness or dread? :-)

I've already decided that I'm going back to see him. I can't this weekend because Jill is going to be here (Jacob's spring break) but I definitely must go back and see how high I can get his blood pressure going! (Just kidding!)

That's it for now. Many, many thanks to all the friends and family for your fasting and prayers.

Update

2010-03-06T21:04:00.000-08:00

Most of us didn't get to see LR (aka my Brig Bother) today. This is what happened.

Loren, Carolyn, and their kids arrived last night (or this morning) around 1:00 a.m. I was still sitting up gabbing with Jill when they arrived. As a result, we all slept in a little bit and then had pancakes for breakfast. I needed to take a shower and get ready, so Rhonda and Loren left to go visit LR at the hospital. Dad and I were planning to join them as soon as I was ready to go. We were just getting ready to leave the house when Rhonda called to tell us not to come.

Apparently they had only been with LR for a few minutes when the doctor came by. He stood in the room with them and told them that LR is showing some improvement. Apparently his kidneys had begun to shut down when he first arrived at the hospital, but tests done this morning showed that his kidney function has improved, so that is really good. The doctor then said that LR's lungs looked like a solid snowstorm yesterday, but today they have cleared up quite a bit. His blood oxygen levels have continued to improve.

Rhonda and Loren were facing away from LR and looking at the doctor as he spoke, but the nurse was attending to LR, and even though he was heavily sedated, he obviously could hear what the doctor was saying, and he started to move on the bed. They think he was happy about the good news. Right after that he realized that his son was there, and he opened his eyes and tried to sit up to hug him. This caused his blood pressure to suddenly spike and disrupted some of his many tubes and wires. The nurse was surprised that he was able to move like that, since she had just increased his medications. Rhonda and Loren were rushed out of the room. The doctor told them that too much stimulation could cause him to relapse, so they gave him more medication to sedate him further and asked everyone to leave and not come back until this evening.

After dinner, Rhonda, Loren, and Dad left to go back to the hospital. They also needed to do some clothes shopping for Rhonda. She left home with only the clothes she was wearing, and she has borrowed pajamas and a few other things from Jill. She has nothing to wear to church tomorrow.

A while after they left, I started feeling that I needed to see my brother, so I got my purse and was getting ready to go out the door to head for the hospital when Rhonda, Loren and Dad returned. They went shopping at Wal Mart (didn't find anything) and then called the hospital to check on LR before going there. The nurse told them that LR is resting comfortably and not to come bother him. She said we could see him in the morning.

So twice today I was going out the door to see him and twice I had to turn back. I'm feeling sad that I didn't get to go see him today, but I am so happy that he's doing better. Let's all pray that he will continue to improve and that he will fully come back to us in mind and health.

More tomorrow.

My Brig Bother

2010-03-05T22:38:00.000-08:00

Yes, that is what I used to call my dear big brother Loren when we were growing up together in good ole Caliente. Back then I would never have admitted even liking him, and he was much the same to me. Picture this: you are attending a high school with a grand total of 150 students in four grades (on a good day, counting the polygamists out in the countryside who didn't actually attend). Loren is only one year older than me, so I thought everybody pretty much knew us both, but one day someone randomly realized that we shared the same last name and asked Loren if he was related to Karen Smith. Loren's reply? "No."

But of course I did love him and I was proud of him. And I still do, still am. And it's so hard for me to see him so sick. It brought back awful memories of another hospital many years ago soon after he was in a school bus accident and came too close to death's door.

Backing up, Loren and Rhonda currently live in a small town in southeastern Arizona, and most of you probably know that he is in a hospital near Phoenix. Apparently he got sick a couple of weeks ago and actually went to a doctor. He got some medicine and was feeling better. Then he suddenly started getting weaker. By this last Tuesday, he was so sick that he couldn't get out of bed, couldn't walk. Rhonda called an ambulance and he was taken to a fairly small hospital near their home. When they got there, they considered flying him directly to Phoenix, but then decided to try treating him there. By that afternoon, they changed their minds and put him and Rhonda on a small plane for Phoenix.

He was very seriously ill when he got there. He has a bad case of viral pneumonia and has tested positive for the flu; they don't know yet if it's H1N1 (Swine) Flu. Besides that, he had been deprived of oxygen sometime during his treatment and transport, and they feared that he had brain damage. He was put in a drug-induced coma so that they could put him on a ventilator and begin other treatments. He still is. The doctors say that his condition today is about the same as yesterday, but Rhonda feels that he is getting better. She should know, she has been at his side this whole time.

My dad and I decided to drive down to Phoenix to give our love and support, so we left this morning and I am writing this from Jill and Jared's house near Phoenix. I am so grateful that they are here. Dad and I got here this afternoon and went directly to the hospital. My dear brother is in the ICU, connected by many tubes and many machines. He appears to be completely knocked out, but sometimes when he is asked a question, he responds, which is so wonderful to see, gives us so much hope that he will eventually be okay. They only allow two people at a time to visit him, to even be in the area where you "suit up" to see him. You have to wash your hands and then put on a paper gown, gloves, and a mask. If you don't wear glasses, you have to wear a mask with a plastic shield covering your eyes. I hate to say that I wished for glasses today, and breathing behind that thing gave me claustrophobia even before it started fogging up. I was uncomfortably hot before very many minutes passed. But as I stood there, the nurse who was adjusting the various machines and tubes asked him if he was in any pain, and he shook his head quite definitively. Rhonda has asked him a few things, and he has responded by nodding or shaking his head to her, too. Dad says that he thinks Loren was aware that he was there when it was his turn to visit. I spoke to him and he didn't seem to respond, but he was probably trying to figure out what the heck I was doing in his bedroom. So we have high hopes that he will be okay.

I imagine we will be here for a few more days, depending on how he does and how soon Dad (and I) need to get back to work (Dad has an important Boy Scout meeting on Wednesday night, and I know that Loren would appreciate the importance of not letting your Scouts down). I will give an update whenever there's anything to report. I am told that we are planning a family and friends fast for this Sunday. Hey, it's Fast Sunday anyway, just toss your prayers our way for this one. We would appreciate it.

As for my future visits to his ICU, I'm wondering if anyone would object to me sporting a pair of sunglasses with one of those half-size face masks. And Jared (my son-in-law) has offered the use of his paintball mask. What a guy.

Please get well soon, brig bother. I'm not nearly done with you yet.

Your sittle lister.

A Jewish Funeral

2010-02-18T17:38:00.001-08:00

Some of you have met Jenny’s “new” boyfriend, George, but for those of you who haven’t, I’ll introduce him.

Jenny started dating George about a year ago. It was a big relief to me when she told me she was seeing someone new, because her former boyfriend, Eric, was ten years older than her, had four kids, had been to jail several times, and a recurring problem with drug addiction (which led to frequent unemployment problems). I’m not saying I didn’t like Eric; he was very charming (as people like him tend to be) and actually had been an active member of our church for a while. But the future didn’t look too promising for Eric, and I was happy to hear that Jenny had met someone new. When she told me about him, my first questions were: Does he have a job? (answer: yes) Has he ever been to jail? (answer: no). Had he ever been married, does he do drugs, does he have any kids? (answer to all: no). My response (before having even met him): I like him!

When I did meet him, I liked him even more. He joined Jenny, Jimmy and me when I took her out for lunch and a movie for her birthday last June, and guess what? He likes seafood! (Hardly anybody in my family does, so that was nice, someone to join Jared and me in scarfing up our favorite food.) He seemed nice, too, and accompanied us to see “Up” without much complaint. He’s originally from New York, so he also has an interesting accent.

George and Jenny joined us for our 4th of July celebration last summer. Jill and Jared were here, and we had fun with a little barbecue and few fireworks. George offered to help cook, and as soon as we finished eating, he jumped up and helped clear the table! I don’t know about Jenny, but I fell in love with him immediately. The picture at the top is Jenny and George in front of my house during the fireworks “display”.

As we got to know George better, we found out that he was raised by his grandparents. His parents are divorced; his father lives in the Seattle area and his mother has always been “messed up,” as Jenny said it. Apparently his mother has had an ongoing drug problem. As a result, George has been very close to his grandparents. His grandfather died three years ago, not long after the family moved from New York to Vegas. His grandmother obviously taught him manners! Several months ago, Susie and her daughter Carolyn and family (husband Erik -- not to be confused with the Eric mentioned above -- and baby Alice) came to visit me, and I invited Jenny and George over to my house for breakfast so Jenny could see Carolyn, since they used to be good friends. George couldn’t come because he wasn’t feeling well. That night my phone rang. “Hi, Karen, this is George.” I’m thinking George … George … George? Then he went on to say, “I wanted to thank you for inviting me and tell you how sorry I am I couldn’t come …” Then it suddenly hit me, THAT George, Jenny’s boyfriend! I was amazed that he was so polite that he called like that. (I couldn't resist posting a picture of cute little Alice, sippin' my favorite soda, CF Diet Dr. Pepper!)

Jenny and George came over on Christmas. At breakfast that day, he told us about having leukemia as a child. He told us a funny story about how the Make A Wish Foundation came to him and asked if he could go anywhere in the world and do anything he wanted, where would he like to go? He hollered “CHUCK E CHEESE!” His mother stepped in and said that he really meant that he wanted to go to Disney World. They had a fun trip, first class all the way, special treatment and lots of fun things. He went through four years of chemo, radiation, all the stuff. I asked him if it was really bad, and he kind of shrugged it off. He lost all his hair, and he apparently liked it like that, because he has kept his hair really short ever since.

Here is a picture of Jenny, George, and Dad opening presents and such on Christmas morning. It’s a favorite, MAYBE, POSSIBLY because my doggie Chica is sitting on George’s lap. Obviously he’s a great guy! Chica likes him! (As if she didn't like everyone -- except other animals, of course.)

George’s grandmother died suddenly on February 6. She had been diagnosed with advanced stage breast cancer, and she only lived two more weeks. They had taken her home to die, and Jenny and George sat with her all day. She waited until after they left to go. It was a big shock to all of them; George is really sad. I told Jenny that Jimmy and I would like to go to the funeral, and that’s when I found out that George’s grandmother was Jewish and a Holocaust Survivor.

The funeral was held at the Boulder City Veteran’s Cemetery. Even though Jimmy and I got lost trying to find it, we still beat the rest of the family there! It turned out that we had the time wrong and were a bit early. They have two chapels in the building where her service was held, and a military funeral was being held in the other chapel while we waited in the foyer. We didn’t know where to go or what to do, so one of the soldiers who was waiting to go inside for their part of the service told me where to find George’s grandmother’s name on the schedule and where to go. Then it was a pretty emotional sight, watching those soldiers march inside, unfold, present and refold the flag and handing it to the soldier’s grieving family.

George’s family finally arrived, and we met them. I put my hand out to shake George's uncle's hand when we were introduced, but he exclaimed, "Put that away!" and gave me a hug. Everyone was standing outside the chapel when the funeral director said that they needed six males to be pall bearers. I made a quick count of the people there, and they didn’t have six. I did what I normally do – I immediately volunteered Jimmy for the job. He objected at first, whispering to me that he felt strange about it, since he had never met George’s grandmother, but I told him, “You will if you’re needed!” Ten minutes later, there was Jimmy, helping carry the casket with a yarmulke (one of those little beanie hats) on his head. I was so proud of him! I wanted to whip out my cell phone and take a picture, but I was afraid it would be just too tacky of me.

The service was interesting. It was conducted by a rabbi; his yarmulke had silver symbols on it. Some of the service was in Hebrew (or whatever) and he sang some of it. George’s uncle gave the eulogy. Unfortunately, George’s mother kept interrupting him, putting in her comments or exclaiming over something he said. I was wishing she would be quiet so we could hear the story! He kept asking her to settle down and let him tell it, but she wouldn’t. Eventually George’s uncle gave up and sat back down; I’m going to have to get the rest of the story from George the next time I see him. But here is what I got:

George’s grandmother was born in Budapest, Hungary. She said she lived in the "pest" part of Budapest and that the Danube River (which divides the city) surely isn't blue! As a young teenager she worked in the Jewish underground, helping to smuggle people out of the ghetto. She eventually escaped to Italy herself. That’s where she met George’s grandfather, and they eventually immigrated to New York City. George’s uncle said that she was “really a Pip.” She was strong willed and determined. I later asked Jenny if George’s grandmother had liked her, and Jenny said yes, that his grandmother told him that he had better be good to her! I was glad to hear that. I told Jenny that I would take over and start telling George that myself (and you know I will).

After the funeral, the rabbi attached little cloth pins on the George’s mother's and uncle’s lapels. It’s Jewish tradition to tear your coat when someone dies and wear it that way for seven days. If you change your coat, you’re supposed to tear that one, too. Instead he put a cloth pin on their coats and tore it. He said they needed to always wear for the next seven days. Then they put the casket on a trailer being pulled by a little golf cart-like thing and we followed it to the grave site. There was more praying and singing and stuff, and then they lowered the casket into the grave. The rabbi led the family members in tossing some dirt onto the lowered casket. He told everyone that it was like putting someone into bed and pulling up the covers and saying goodnight. I thought that was so sentimental and wonderful.

At the end of the gravesite service, the rabbi told everybody not to come back for 30 days. He emphasized that several times, so apparently it was important!

It was a wonderful and beautiful service, and quite an interesting experience. I just wish I could have met her.

A Really Fun Weekend

2010-02-07T07:27:00.001-08:00

I really wanted to get this post done before Neal left, but I don't think I'll make it! Oh well, I guess that doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things. I'm sure he had more important things to do than catch up on miscellaneous blogs!

I had great fun last weekend. I went down (oops I meant UP, sorry, Dad) to Caliente for Neal's missionary farewell. I know, I know, it's not PC to call it that anymore, but it's an easy way to say it. Neal was talking in church before leaving on his mission to Brazil. A good excuse for everybody to gather in Caliente and see each other, and I like to join in those gatherings whenever I can! Kevin's kids and their families are especially dear to my heart.

But before I get going about the trip, I just have to post this little video I just found, featuring Neal, Cory, and a little game of catch. Remember this?!

The Joanna Toss! Ahh, good times, huh? That didn't happen this past weekend (I assume it was Thanksgiving 2006), but the three main characters were there this weekend, too!

Anyway, I was going to do my usual procedure of describing the whole weekend in minute detail, including all information about the guy I tried to set up with Vera on a blind date (she couldn't come), but I'll spare you that and just give the weekend highlights. (Maybe I'll do that in my next post -- there were a few "Adventures with Grandpa" classics.) It was great seeing everyone. There were a lot of adorable babies, little kids, and some of my very favorite people. Mainly, though, I was so impressed by how grown up Neal has become. On Saturday afternoon I walked into Kevin's house and, seeing Neal seated on the end of the couch, I did my usual greeting -- I flicked his ear. I fully expected his usual response of jumping up and chasing me around the room to get back at me, but he merely said hello. When I wanted to check to see if he had a fever, he said he was merely tired. Tired? Whoa! My baby nephew has grown up! (I don't know what that says about me and my method of greeting people, though. Maybe I need a little maturing myself!)

A bit later, Neal spent a little time with me and showed me his four-wheel motorcross pictures (I think that's what they were called) and the book that Vera made him for Christmas with pictures of his family that he can show around while on his mission (very nice job, Vera). I told him about my one experience in driving a four-wheeler on an excursion in Mexico and the meltdown I had at the first rest stop (I wanted to GO HOME and never drive that thing again, but the only way back was to get back on the bike). Yes, I adjusted a bit by the time that tour was over, but I'm still not overly anxious to do it again! At any rate, I was so pleased that Neal took the time to talk to me. There were so many other people there that wanted his attention.

Neal did a wonderful job in his talk on Sunday. What I remember most about it was that he mentioned his father, my brother Kevin, a couple of times, and how much he loves and appreciates him. I got a little tear or two when I heard that. I tried to tell Kevin and Neal how I felt at the dinner they had after church, but I probably bungled it, so I'll say it now. I am so glad that Neal recognizes what a wonderful guy his father is. I have loved and admired Kevin for many, many years. He is a kind and gentle soul, and a forgiving one, too. My main criticism for Caliente in general is that I don't think they properly appreciate my brother or my father. I have great love for them both. Back to Kevin, though, there have been many changes in my oldest brother since he used to chase Susie and me while he was riding his bicycle, swinging a baseball bat!

In closing, I send all my love and best wishes to everyone who was there -- and those that couldn't make it -- and especially to Neal. You do the family proud.

Update for 2009

2010-01-07T11:24:00.000-08:00

Okay, I haven't posted anything for a while, and I didn't even do very many Christmas cards, so I think I'll post a yearly summary. Here's life as I know it!

I’m still working at the Water District and living my normal life, whatever that is! The company started working a four-ten work schedule in July, and I absolutely love it. I work 7 AM to 6 PM and I have every Friday off. It’s just wonderful, having that extra day, and I don’t mind going to work early and staying an extra hour in the evening. Not only that, we get to wear our casual clothes (read: blue jeans) on Thursdays instead of Fridays, which means that I only have to dress up for three days instead of four. I love it! Having the extra day off is really worth it. I just don’t plan to do anything at all after I get home from work. As soon as I get home, I put on my night gown, have a little something to eat, and start getting ready for bed! It makes the weeks pass by pretty quickly!

Jill and Jared are doing well, along with my precious grandkids, Jacob and Kadence. They bought a new house in San Tan Valley, Arizona (near Phoenix) and moved in last summer and everything seemed to be going well. Now his company might be laying off some employees. We're still hoping that his job will become more stable and they can stay in Arizona. Only time will tell!

Jimmy and I took this picture when we were visiting them this last Easter. It was a fun trip.

Joanna got married to Shayler White last March. Here's a picture of all my kids with my new son-in-law. Joanna and Shayler got engaged around Christmas time last year, so it was a crazy mess, getting the wedding put together in only a few months, but we pulled it off. Joanna is working as a secretary and still going to school. Shayler has already graduated from college, and he works at a community college in Salt Lake City.

Jenny and Jimmy are both doing well, keeping themselves out of trouble! At least they claim they are! Jimmy is going to school at the community college and attempting to work part time, which hasn’t been too successful this year. He tried to find a job all summer but didn’t manage to get hired. He was hired for the holiday season at a Tommy Hilfiger outlet store, but the seasonal help were let go after only a couple of weeks. He’s taking film-related classes in college and I am unfortunately the subject of some of his projects (whenever he gets desperate). We just filmed a “lovely” hot chocolate commercial at night on our back porch. Lift steaming hot cup to face, breathe in the smell, sip slowly, make “yummy” expression, and set it down. Repeat again and again and AGAIN. Shot from one angle, shot from the other, shot from the table level, shot from over my shoulder, you name it! Refill cup to the brim, zap in microwave again, repeat, repeat, and repeat. I must have drunk ten cups by the time we finished. I just hope I never have to watch any of that footage! We don’t know if he’ll ever be able to find a job in film, but at this point he pretty much has to stay in school so that I can keep him on my health insurance (as you may recall, he has Type 1 Diabetes). It’s a struggle, but we just take it as it comes.

No entry about my life could be complete without mentioning my animals. You know you’ve reached a certain age when pictures of your pets replace pictures of your kids on your computer desk top and cell phone! Sorry to say it, but it’s true. In my defense, I have to say that I spend a LOT more time with my dogs than I do with my kids!

First of all, I still have my two Chihuahuas, my babies, Dobby and Chica.

Dobby is two years old, sweet and calm, and is adored by all who know him. It’s a good thing that he is so sweet, because he often needs forgiveness for his escapades. This picture shows Dobby playing with his favorite playmate, Mamo, our newest kitty.

Chica is six years old and can be a bit grumpy. Sometimes I think I’m the only one who loves her. She tries to be good, but sometimes she just can’t help herself. I console myself by saying that she would be much worse with a different, more lenient mommy. That’s my story and I’m sticking with it!

We still have our white cat, Scout, who is very quiet and timid. She has the family tendency towards pudginess, so she has been on a diet for the past couple of years. She is the rare cat that will actually get so desperate for more food that she has tried to get into the dog food! Now everybody (all the animals, anyway) are restricted to two meals a day to prevent everybody from getting into everybody else’s food. In spite of her timidity, Scout will face any challenge to dip into someone else’s food dish.

The first part of this year we adopted a new kitten, Mamo, a sort-of replacement for our cat Mu Shu, who escaped (on my watch) soon after we moved out of our old house. He is very sweet and friendly, follows Jimmy from room to room and has a lot of fun playing with Dobby. Even though Chica has calmed down around him (she has a tendency to want to kill any new animals that try to move in), the trust has not been re-established, and it’s always easy to tell if Chica is anywhere near him because a lot of hissing and kitty-growls can be heard.

In grand-pet news, Jill and Jared adopted a Weimeraner puppy this year. Jimmy and I had the great good time of delivering it to them down in Arizona; they bought her from a breeder in Pahrump. Her name is Liberty, Libby for short, and at six months she is already over 60 pounds! She is a beautiful, very sweet doggie, and they are doing a very good job of training her. She almost caused Dobby to have a heart attack when they came to visit us at Thanksgiving, though. I don’t think Dobby knew that dogs come that big, even if they are friendly.

Joanna and Shayler adopted a kitten this year. I personally don’t think that Joanna is a really big animal lover, but Shayler is one of those rare guys who loves cats. Their kitty’s name is Emerald and I hear she’s quite the little character. Joanna is hoping that she will calm down soon. I think Shayler loves her feistiness, though!

Well, this is getting pretty long and I probably lost most of you a long time ago, so I'll finish up! I don't know about you, but I'm kind of glad that 2009 is now over. Come on, 2010!

Don't get busted!

2009-09-03T08:23:00.000-07:00

Some of you may object to this video I'm posting because it seems to concentrate on people who "have something to hide" (and everybody that knows me, knows that I'm a flag-waving law-and-order nut), but there is information here that can help everybody. How many of us haven't been stopped by a police officer who is a total jerk? Sure, most of them (many of them, anyway, I hope) are just trying to do their job, trying to keep us safe, but I have run into a few that have treated me, a sweet(ish), innocent (mostly), old(ish) lady like a bank robbing, drug addicted low life. Those are the ones that make me nervous, and make me want to share this video.

It's long, so I would suggest hitting "play" and then pause it and go shopping or something. When you get back and have some time, watch it. I'm not suggesting that you have anything to hide, any more than I have, but things can go wrong and we could "get busted" for something innocent and unintended, like that old bottle of Xanax we inherited from our late mother that we have been saving for an emergency (not that I have anything like that locked in my medicine chest). (OK, OK, before everybody wants me to share, I don't have it anymore, but I did for a while!)

Besides, even though I don't necessarily believe (yet) that the land I love is turning into a socialist police state, we need to know our rights and try to preserve them whenever we can. A month or so ago, I transported a loaded pistol across state lines under the front seat of my car. It was inside a case that I didn't open, I didn't know it was loaded, and I was just returning it to my brother who had inadvertently left it with my nephew, but I later found out that if my car had been searched, I could have been in trouble. I now know that I don't really have to fear something like that happening. It's just good to know.

Sad News

2009-07-29T07:25:00.001-07:00

Just wanted to let everyone know that Jean Ann Smith, our cousin Ron's wife, died on Sunday.

We visited Ron and Jean Ann at their home in Oregon after our Smith Family Reunion, I think around 1998, and they were so kind and welcoming. They fed us dinner and then Jean Ann took us to see her horses. They had a new colt, and it was fun for everyone to see it. Jean Ann helped everyone take a ride on one of the horses and we had a great time. I am going to FIND the pictures we took that day and post them here!

Jenny and Joanna became friends with two of their daughters and they kept in touch for a few years.

I was so touched by Ron's words on his Caring Bridge web site. Just last Friday they were still hoping for a miracle. Then Ron posted these words on Sunday morning:

It appears that Jean Ann is entering her final stages. She is in much pain tonight and is ready to go to Heaven. In between spells of delirium, she and I talked about Heaven and prayed for God to take her or heal her. We realize that either one is a wonderful thing.

Then there was this post on Sunday afternoon:

Today Jean Ann passed on to be with the Lord at 1:49pm. Our prayers were answered. It was nice that she was alert enough for a fleeting time to recognise us and exchange "I love you"s. My prayer was answered that God would take her quickly if that was His will. All seven children were here and amazingly the care nurse just happened to be here when we all were surprised that she went so fast. We praise God for his loving kindness!

I have always admired Ron for his strong and valiant faith in Jesus Christ. Again I have to say that although we don't share a religion, we do share a faith, and I'm thankful that I know him and his family.

Here is his Caring Bridge web site, if you want to read the posts and leave a few words of love for them.

http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/jeanannsmith

Karen

Historical Houses

2009-07-20T14:36:00.000-07:00

On our way back from our camping trip to Utah, Dad (Grandpa), Jimmy and I stopped to see a few of the old houses that are significant in our family history! The only camera I had was the one on my cell phone, but they didn't turn out too bad, considering!

This one is the old Greene family home where Mom (Grandma) was born and where she lived until she married Dad. Dad says that it pretty much looks the same as it always did. Grandpa Greene lived there until he died in 1979. Ahh, the memories! Grandpa Greene with his freezer full of fish and slightly soft apples from the cellar.

This is the house right next door to Grandpa Greene's, where Mom and Dad first met. Dad's roommate had been invited to dinner and asked Dad to come along.

Actually, Mom's best friend lived in this house, and she told Mom that they had two new boarders, one with red hair and one with "oh, the bluest eyes." She asked Mom which one she wanted, and Mom said she's take the one with the red hair. And she did!

Dad's memories of that night were much more vague. He said they hardly noticed the giggling teenie-boppers who paraded through. Can't you just see it?

Prayers Needed

2009-07-08T07:18:00.000-07:00

Your thoughts and prayers are needed for our dear cousin, Ron Smith, and most especially his wife, Jean Ann.

Ron is the son of Grandpa's brother, Uncle Frank. Ron's mother, Aunt Roxie, died last year (I used to fondly refer to them as "Uncle Rank and Aunt Foxie").

Jean Ann was rediagnosed with Melanoma last November. She had a cancerous mole removed from her foot in 2001, and they said the cancer was all gone. They found out that it had returned just after last Thanksgiving, and they have been in the battle of their lives since.

Ron has always been a very dear cousin of mine. I guess you could say that his family doesn't share my religion, but they do share my faith. We have had many religious discussions and it has always impressed me how much we have in common with others who share our great faith in Jesus Christ.

Please include Ron and Jean Ann in your prayers, and if you get a minute, visit his web site and leave a few words of love and encouragement. It means a lot to them.

Here is their web site:
http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/jeanannsmith

Closing with one of my favorite scriptures:

All things wherewith you have been afflicted shall work together for your good, and to my name's glory, saith the Lord. -- D&C 98:3

Adventures with Grandpa – Episode #4

2009-06-19T10:31:00.000-07:00

This is my fourth and final episode of my most recent adventures with Grandpa. Stay tuned, because I’m sure there will be many more in the future!

In our last episode, Grandpa and I had just returned from our trip to Arizona. We left St. John fairly late in the day, so we didn’t get back to Las Vegas until around midnight that night. We staggered inside, Jimmy helped us unload the car, and we all fell into bed. As mentioned earlier, Gina was already in Vegas to cover Lincoln County High School’s track and baseball state competitions for the Caliente Blab. The plan was that Dad and Gina would be spending Sunday with us and then go home early on Monday. Church doesn’t start until 1:00 PM, so we could sleep in a bit before having to get ready, but of course Dad doesn’t do the sleeping-in thing. At least he didn’t bring his violin this time, so we didn’t have to wake up to a rousing rendition of “Turkey in the Straw.”

A mishap had occurred in Arizona that I haven’t mentioned yet. All of “the boys” were helping April change the oil in her car on Saturday morning. The car was jacked up and well-propped on a tree stump and various other implements to keep it from squishing the person who was lying underneath it. Anyway, at some point Dad decided to bend over and look under the car (probably for coaching purposes). His glasses fell out of his shirt pocket and one of the lenses shattered on the pavement. We are all well familiar with Dad’s lack of hearing, and now his seeing abilities were also badly impaired. He has always had really good vision and was fine for driving (at least I hope he was), but he couldn’t see to read. This had already caused problems on the drive home, because at the Kingman mini-mart restaurant I had to read the entire menu to him at the top of my voice. That was fun for me and everybody else in the building and adjacent parking lot.

Anyway, the lack of glasses also caused a problem that Sunday morning because Dad couldn’t do what he normally does when he gets up on Sunday mornings – read his scriptures and/or church magazines. When I got up, I found him wandering restlessly up and down. Thank heaven for the BYU channel. I turned it on for him and he was set for a while. When the program changed to something he didn’t want to watch, I put on some of the BYU Education Week recordings on my DVR. It kept him busy and out from under foot (either listening or dozing or – as he puts it – “resting his eyes”) for the rest of the morning.

We went to church and came home for a nice meal prepared by Gina. It was Jill’s recipe for Chicken Enchiladas. Anyway, as the evening wore down, I started thinking about whether or not I wanted to hang my pot rack in my kitchen. I have always liked pot racks, and I loved having one in my old house. I had even taken it with me when we moved. I thought Dad had gone off to bed, so I brought it in from the garage and laid it on the kitchen island in different configurations, trying to decide if I wanted to hang it there and if so, where. Centered? On one end? Vertical or horizontal? Would it even look decent? Would it ruin the look of my new kitchen? Decisions, decisions. Well, Dad returned to the kitchen unexpectedly and caught me contemplating the installation. Game over, we were doing it, and he couldn’t leave town until it was done!

The first job was searching through the boxes in the garage, looking for the rest of the pieces and parts. Eventually they were found, but the search may have been slowed by the process of Dad holding up every item he found and asking if I really needed to keep it and the subsequent debate on why it was necessary for life. I’m sure my neighbors appreciated my lengthy, top-of-my-voice explanations (complete with many repeats) on what I planned to do with every gadget and bottle of miracle cleaner (I’m rather fond of both of those categories). I was glad to herd him back into the house after the miraculous discovery of the pot rack pieces and parts.

We returned to the kitchen and Dad began the process of looking for beams in the ceiling to attach the pot rack. Of course I couldn’t locate my stud finder, so he was using the old “tap it with a hammer to listen for solid places” method, something that may be a bit dicey when your hearing isn’t top notch to begin with. Add to this the problem of my dogs misinterpreting the taps as somebody knocking on the front door, producing a mad rush to the front door and a lot of barking. After a lot of tapping (and barking), Dad used my drill with a tiny bit to establish the presence of the beam, and guess what … no beam was found. So, more tapping, barking, and drilling. At some point I finally convinced Dad that we could finish the project in the morning and we all staggered off to bed. Even the dogs were exhausted.

Of course Dad was up early Monday morning. By the time I dragged myself downstairs, Dad was gone to Home Depot. He was gone for a very long time. He later admitted to me that he missed the store down the street and ended up driving across town before he found one. He bought four large eye bolts to attach the pot rack and came back. Of course he had done more tapping and drilling before he left, and I was shocked to see my new ceiling literally covered with small holes. After Dad returned, a small hole became a large one, but there was no beam after all. Another large hole was drilled, and still no beam. I began to fantasize about the Mormon woman’s alcohol alternative – the Hershey bar. Another large hole was created, and my fantasy Hershey bar became a REALLY big one. When we finally found a beam (well recessed, it turned out), the eye bolts Dad had bought were too short to reach it. Another trip to Home Depot was required.

Dad and I climbed into the truck and headed for the store. We bought longer eye bolts, a stud finder, a super-size can of spackle, and a couple of things Dad needed for his surveying business. They only had small Hershey bars, so I bought two. As we started to get back into the truck, I spotted a very large grasshopper on the ground. I have an aversion to bugs of all kinds, so I gave it a wide berth. In my experience, grasshoppers are especially risky. One year we had a pretty big grasshopper infestation here in Vegas, and the short cut through a break area that I take from my car to my office was full of them. For a while I actually thought it was kind of fun walking through there. As you walked along, they would fly in all directions, and it sort of felt like the parting of the Red Sea. Then one day, one of them landed on me. After much screaming and dancing around, I got rid of it, but that ended my walks through there! A new route had to be established. (I’m sure the people whose windows faced that break area had an amusing sight to begin their day.)

Anyway, back at the Home Depot parking lot, Dad spotted my minor detour and instead of unlocking the truck door so I could get inside, he walked around to see what I was avoiding. He stomped his foot, and I swear he tried to make it land on me. It missed, but there was a minor reenactment of the scene outside my office. I had to drive us home because Dad was too weak with laughter to drive. The fun never stops.

We got back home and the project continued. Dad tried using a pencil to mark where the studs started and stopped, but then couldn’t see his marks. Finally I gave him a dry-erase marker to outline the stud locations. I thought it would wash off easily afterwards. A stud was finally found, but then we couldn’t drill through it! The holes were made larger, but we still couldn’t get through it. It appeared that we were hitting something metal instead of wood. Before long, Dad was getting so frustrated with trying to get the eye hooks into the ceiling that he began to try to hammer them in. That's when my recessed cam lights started falling out of the ceiling.

After many holes, large and small, and many, many blue lines criss-crossing the ceiling, the pot rack was finally hung. I pushed the cam lights back up into their little holes and I hope they stay there. The Hershey bars were long gone. We all went out to eat at Dave’s Barbecue and Dad and Gina left. It was 5:00 and the day was gone! I went home and got out my super-size can of spackle. Much to my dismay, I learned that dry erase markers don’t do well on flat paint. The bright blue marks would not wash off. I spackled and painted and painted and painted. Finally I bought a can of “Killz” to cover the markers, and after a couple of coats of that, the blue lines are gone. The pot rack is there to stay and I’d better love it!

Jimmy’s opinion? “I never liked it in the old house.” Well, who asked him?!

Adventures with Grandpa – Episode #3

2009-06-10T13:39:00.000-07:00

As I mentioned earlier, I was in charge of picking out the audiobooks for us to listen to on the trip. I belong to an audio book club and I have hundreds of them to choose from. The first one I produced was one of my favorites, “All the Best – My Life in Letters” by George H. Bush. Unfortunately, Dad had already listened to that one. Of course, I can listen to that audiobook over and over again, but once Dad has listened to something, he’s ready to move on! My next selection was “How to Talk to a Liberal – if you Must” by Ann Coulter. Of course I have all her books, but I think that one is the funniest. He liked it, but before too long he was complaining that she talks too fast and he was missing half of it. I have to agree she’s a little hard to follow when she gets on a roll, so we made another change. I pulled out a Ronald Reagan biography that I love by Michael Deaver, “A Different Drummer,” only to be told that he already listened to that one, too! So my next selection was “Sarah” by Orson Scott Card. I love his books about the women in the Old Testament. Well, I’m afraid it’s a bit too “girly” and not fast-paced enough for Dad. After listening for quite a while, Dad asked me how long it would be before Ishmael would be born. At that point in the audiobook, “Sarai” was still ten years old and hadn’t even married “Abram” yet. We did listen to "Hostage: The Jill Carroll Story," which is a series of articles written by the Christian Science Monitor reporter who was kidnapped in Iraq a few years ago, but that was relatively short. After that it was obviously time to give up on the audiobooks and find something to talk about! (Or more accurately when Dad is concerned -- yell back and forth!)

We had a fun time in St. John and enjoyed seeing all of LR’s family (except Sarah, who couldn’t make it). We went to Angela's graduation on Friday night, toured the high school on Saturday, and helped LR and Rhonda arrange their stuff in a storage shed. Dad is quite good at directing traffic on this type of thing. “If you turn that chair upside down on that bin, you can squeeze that small box on top of it, and don’t worry, the table top will hold it up.” There was much discussion about when we would be traveling back home. I didn’t want to stay until Monday because it would use up my whole weekend and I would get nothing done at home, let alone any rest. Dad didn’t want to drive on Sunday. So that left leaving on Saturday. Dad kind of wanted to drive through a nearby town called Snowflake, but didn’t say anything more about it when he found out it was a little out of the way. Nevertheless, when we left St. John, he got behind the wheel first and guess where we headed … Snowflake! As the designated navigator, I missed a turnoff, which made the side trip a little longer, but it was a cute little community anyway.

I can’t describe the return trip without mentioning the snack situation. I had visited a grocery store in St. John with LR and had restocked our supplies. The next problem is that Dad must not look at the packages that closely when he opens them because he opened the bag of banana chips on the bottom. I picked them up from the top and dumped them on the floor. He picked them up and returned them to the package; they were all his, once again.

It was the Memorial Day weekend when we took this trip to Arizona, and I was concerned about the “dam traffic” (meaning the traffic backup when you cross Hoover Dam). For those of you that don’t often travel that route, it can get really bad, especially on a holiday. They are building a new bridge to make things better, but if you ask me it’s still a long way from completion.

There was really no trouble crossing the dam on the way down to Arizona, but going that direction isn’t as bad because you can decide to “bail” and go through Laughlin (an extra 30 miles) only five miles or so from the dam (just north of Boulder City). That way, you can turn around and take the Laughlin route without having wasted too much time. Going from Arizona to Nevada, though, is a different story. You have to decide “to dam or not to dam” just outside of Kingman, and if you have to turn around, it’s a long way back, over 70 miles. Usually the traffic gets backed up just because there are a lot of people crossing the dam road to take their dam pictures and stuff. If there’s an accident on that long, windy, two-lane dam road, though, you could get dam stopped for literally hours at a time. (And yes, I am having fun referring to everything like that.)

Jimmy and I drove down to visit Jill and Jared (and the kids!) in Arizona in April and we had the same concerns coming back (also a holiday weekend). As we were driving along, they had some of those electronic signs up with a phone number you could call for dam traffic information. It’s one of the most frustrating signs I’ve ever seen, though, because it changed screens too fast. One screen would say, “Dam construction ahead” and the next, “Expect long delays,” then “Traffic information,” then “Call toll-free 1-888-248-1259.” By the time all that stuff scrolls by, you’ve passed the sign. (If you’re stopped in traffic and can read the whole thing, you already have your answer.) It also goes by way too fast to get the whole number and if you’re the one that’s driving, forget it! The first time I saw a sign on that trip with Jimmy, I let out a yelp and jolted him out of his Ipod-induced stupor. Of course neither one of us remembered any of the numbers on that pass. Another sign came up further down the road and as we waited for the screen with the number to come up, we tried to split up who would remember which part, but first we had to argue about whether it started with 800 or 888, which made me forget my numbers. The next time we finally got our assigned numbers and tried it with both 800 and 888. We eventually got a recording that wasn’t much help, but we thought we had the dam traffic problem solved forevermore.

Not so. When Grandpa and I were on our way back to Nevada, I whipped out my trusty cell phone and dialed the saved number – and it was the exact same message that Jimmy and I got in April. You would think that if they made the effort to post those electronic signs, they would change the recording from time to time – say, when there’s a major backup – but no, the message is the same. We have since found no way to check dam traffic without being there to see it for yourself. And that’s enough to make you use the other version of that dam word!

We stopped in Kingman on our way back to fill up the gas tank and get some real food (we finally maxed out on the snacking). I asked the woman at the checkout counter about the dam traffic and she confirmed that the recording is always the same and there’s no way to check traffic status. I asked if she had heard anything about the traffic that day, and she said that everybody said the dam traffic was BAD. I said okay, I guess we’ll go through Laughlin. She said that she heard that the Laughlin traffic was also bad. Great news! I moved on to the adjacent restaurant to order some food for us. Dad came in and started loudly questioning me about whether or not I’d be able to make it back to Vegas without going to the bathroom again (catching the interest of all of the bored truckers in there), so I gave him an assignment: Go and interview people coming into the mini mart and find out if they have just come from the dam direction. See what they say about the traffic. Off he went without complaint.

He came back with the report that the dam traffic was really bad. Of course, everybody he talked to was coming towards Arizona instead of leaving it (like we were), but they said the backup going towards Nevada looked worse than theirs. We decided to go through Laughlin. As we left the mini mart, we got a merry wave and good luck wishes from several groups of people. That’s Dad for you. Quite the sociable guy. If only he had more time, I’m sure he would have distributed a few Book of Mormons.

Of course, nobody told us that there is major road construction between Laughlin and Las Vegas, and it’s a single lane going each direction most of the way. But we eventually made it home and were happy to make it!

The trip to Arizona was over but the adventures with Grandpa weren’t. More still to come!

Adventures with Grandpa – Episode #2

2009-06-09T15:58:00.000-07:00

One thing you must remember when traveling with Grandpa – no matter whether you’re driving or letting him drive, you can’t win. If you get behind the wheel, he thinks it’s because you doubt his abilities, think he’s getting old, or just plain don’t trust his driving. If you stand back and let him get behind the wheel, he wonders why he has to drive when you know where you’re going better than he does and besides, you got more sleep last night than he did (and who doesn’t?).

Heaven help you if you are driving and you let him hold the navigator (GPS). The first time I took a trip to Utah with Dad after I got mine, we were driving around one rainy night in heavy traffic, trying to find Jill’s new apartment. I was exhausted and getting a little cranky (I know, nobody has ever seen me get like that), and the navigator was telling me to turn here, turn there, and make a U-turn when I thought I knew where I was. I finally dragged my eyes away from the road to see what Dad was doing, only to see that he had been rotating the navigator every time I made a turn, making the navigator “think” that we had gone the wrong way. It would recalculate the route and instruct me to make another turn. At that point, Dad made the comment that “this thing really isn’t much good.” I was ready to snatch it out of his hands and toss it out the window, with him right behind it.

Anyway, back to the current trip.

It started to rain shortly after we left Vegas, and we had varying degrees of rain the whole way. In some places it was raining really hard, mainly when I was driving. I began to get concerned about the cedar chest in the back of the pickup, along with the stuff in our suitcases. I mentioned it to Dad, and he said that there was nothing to worry about. He said that at our rate of speed, the water would just fly backwards off the truck at an angle that would prevent the stuff in the back from getting wet. Besides, the cedar chest had so many coats of sealant on it that he didn’t think some water would harm it. In case I forget to mention this later, he was right. In spite of the many hours of rain we drove through, nothing got wet.

Anyway, I found that like many other men I have known, Dad doesn’t like to turn on the windshield wipers until you have already had your nervous breakdown and are ready for the straightjacket. Picture this: it’s beginning to rain. He doesn’t seem to notice. More and more rain is clouding up the windshield, and he doesn’t turn them on. Now you can barely see, still no wipers. It’s raining harder and you think, okay, any minute now, any minute now … when you have gone around the bend, he finally turns them on – to “mist.” And then he wonders why you are banging your head against your window.

Something happened as we were exiting the freeway onto the highway that eventually goes to LR's house. I was driving, and it had been pouring buckets of rain for a long time. A river of water was running off the highway. I have to admit that I was a bit nervous. I worried about hydroplaning, but I hoped that the truck was heavy enough, especially with the cedar chest in the back, to keep it on the road. As we were exiting the freeway, though, I felt a complete loss of traction under our wheels and we began to glide. Our momentum kept us going, but I had a sensation like I had years ago when I was idling our boat on a windy day in Lake Mead harbor, waiting to put it back on its trailer; like we were drifting towards danger and I had no brakes to stop it. I mentally prepared for the danger and tried to remember if you’re supposed to turn into the slide, away from the slide, whatever it is you are supposed to do to try to regain control. The thing is, though, we didn’t slide. Although I could feel nothing under our wheels, we exited the ramp, went straight down to the bottom, and I managed to pull the truck to the side of the highway to get traction again to stop at the bottom. I can still feel the strange sensation that I felt, and it felt like we were gliding on angel’s wings. And maybe we were. Come to think of it, maybe even Angel Ardyth, my mother.

Dad, who had been napping, stirred and asked, “Are we there yet?”

Stay tuned for the next episode …

Adventures with Grandpa -- Episode #1

2009-06-09T11:50:00.000-07:00

I’ve decided that it’s about time I started documenting some of my fun times with my dad, aka grandpa. We have our ups and our downs, but in the end we have fun, and there’s usually a story to tell!

Our most recent adventure was going down to St. John, Arizona, for Angela’s graduation. Dad had been promising LR and family that he would go visit them down there, and I decided to tag along. Gina needed to be here in Las Vegas for the Lincoln County High School state playoffs for track and baseball (I think that’s what it was) because she takes pictures and writes articles for the Caliente Blab (more officially known as the Lincoln County Record newspaper), so she couldn’t go with him. I had initially resisted going because I would have to take a day off work, and I already burned up a lot of vacation days this year for Joanna’s wedding. But it was all for a good cause, right?

Anyway, Dad needed to take his truck this time because he had built a cedar chest (oops, almost called it a “hope chest” – how politically incorrect!) for Angela that he needed to take to her. At first he said that we would be taking the old truck, which would have been a bit dicey, considering its lack of air conditioning, no cruise control, unreliable speedometer, and loud engine noise (attempting any kind of conversation with Dad in that vehicle would be a bit challenging, to say the least), not to mention the dusty smell that cannot be removed from a truck that has been driven down many a country “road” with the windows down. Thankfully, Dad eventually decided that we would take the “work truck.” I was in charge of finding some audiobooks for us to listen to while we were traveling. I’ve done this many times in the past, with a few successes and many failures, but I was ready to give it another try!

We got up (fairly) early on Friday and started for Arizona. The first thing you need to know about traveling anywhere with Dad is that snacks are not an option, they are a necessity! Dad always says that he isn’t hungry, but he can polish off a bag of nibbles like nobody’s business! Actually, I’m quite good at it, myself. One of his favorite things to bring is grocery bags filled with popcorn he's popped himself, usually well coated with yummy butter. He has a tendency, though, to add too much salt for my taste, causing me to guzzle my Diet Dr. Pepper, further causing more needs for “pit stops” along the way, prompting Dad’s memories of traveling with Mom (and making him wonder if I need the “Detrol Discussion” with my doctor). I SWEAR, it’s the salty popcorn!

Advantage of being in Dad’s truck: It’s his truck and I don’t get irritated when he tosses his popcorn “old maids” and miscellaneous trash on the floor.

Disadvantage of being in Dad’s truck: It’s his truck and anything edible that accidentally falls on the floor is “ruined” (in my eyes) and “still good” (in his). Case in point: one of my favorite treats is Teddy Grahams, especially the chocolate ones, and I usually get a box or two for us to nibble while driving. This time I had only the one box, so when I passed it to him while I was driving, I gave him strict instructions not to spill any! He faithfully attempted to obey, but when we stopped for gas, it tumbled to the floor and some fell out. He immediately scooped them back into the box. Needless to say, that box was now his and his alone!

This is getting a bit long, and I’m just getting started, so I’m going to do this in several sections. More to come later!

He just needs someone to love ...

2009-05-15T11:05:00.000-07:00

This video cracked me up so much I just had to add it.

Always, always, always a mother ...

2009-05-13T15:58:00.000-07:00

No matter how old you get ... or how old your kids get ... you will always be their mother. The duties may change, but they don't go away.

I have a bad habit of saying what I think, especially to my kids, even though they are all adults now. I get myself in trouble. Maybe I should respect the fact that they are adults and keep my thoughts to myself ... or just complain to my friends and get all the feedback I need from them. (Although some of my friends are way too honest and let me know when I'm out of line! Hate them! But also love them more than ever!)

Maybe some of you don't see it from my perspective. Maybe you are tired of your mother's meddling; maybe you wish she would hush up and leave you alone. But I know from personal experience that the day may come when she is not there anymore, and you wish you could be annoyed by her one more time.

If you have small children of your own, maybe you can't imagine them ever making bad choices. They will be perfect angels, making wise decisions their whole lives. Sorry, someday you may find out that it doesn't work that way! And you may eventually take my place, the old mother hen who wants to do whatever you can to help them, guide them, and try to save them from the hardest knocks, even if it means upsetting your more responsible kids.

Sadly, I'm finding myself sympathizing more and more with the "old ladies" I knew at church who seemed so irritated when the younger crowd spouted their idiocies (yes, even then I knew that a lot of it was pretty naive). I guess I'm one of them now! Most of the women at my current ward are young mothers, similar in age to my daughters, and I can hardly stand to listen to them sit smugly back and assume that their children will never smoke, drink, or get body piercings. Almost every Sunday I hear the class -- even the teacher -- proudly proclaim the wise choices her four-year-old made last week. Occasionally an older mother with teenagers will say something like, just wait, you don't know what you're in for. But she is usually dismissed and often secretly judged harshly because of her kids' struggles. They believe that if that mother had done all of the "right" things, her kids wouldn't be like that. Well, I admit that I made plenty of mistakes, but I tried my best to be a good mother. I had some great successes and some awful failures. Who gets the credit? Who takes the blame? I personally believe that most of it is the result of who that person really is inside their soul, who they were before they came to this earth. We guide and direct them as best we can, but they are who they always were. So ... when they do well, they get the credit. When they mess up, we take at least some of the blame! And yes, we did sign up for this!

I'm glad to be where I am now, on the other side of both things (little kids and teenagers)! And I'm especially grateful that I'm done fighting the school district! Whoopee! I've been done for several years now (it's been almost two years since Jimmy graduated from high school), but the joy and happiness is still there.

But my point is that each person on this earth was born with their own personality, with strengths and weaknesses. Each person has his own challenge to overcome. As parents it is our duty to lead and guide them in the direction that will bring them the best life and the most happiness, but in the end, they make their own choices, just the same as we did.

And back to the parenthood issue ... were my children sent to me to be their mother only until they are 18 years old? Am I done now? I don't think so. Sorry, kids, I'll be hovering until I'm lowered -- into the ground! And maybe even longer than that!

Gratitude

2009-05-04T10:52:00.000-07:00

Today was a typical Monday morning. I forced myself out of bed when the alarm went off, feeling sad that the weekend was over (already). I made myself get in the shower immediately to wake myself up or I would no doubt burn up too much time staring into space (heaven help me if a stray magazine caught my attention). I fed the animals and was contemplating my piece of toast when I saw the clock and had to rush through getting ready so I could get in the car and petal-to-the-metal to try to get to the office on time. I was dragging myself from the parking lot towards the building when I saw, up ahead of me, a youngish guy in a maintenance uniform. As he passed under a tree, he jumped into the air and touched the lowest-hanging branch. His whole demeanor showed joy. My first thought was, good grief, that's way too much happiness for 8:00 on a Monday morning!

Then it hit me ... maybe he had been out of work and he just got this job. What joy there would be in getting a job at a wonderful place like this, with benefits and the great people who work here. Even if he hadn't been out of work, maybe he knows someone who is, and he's grateful for what he has here.

And so should I. How can I be grumpy about Monday morning when I have a job as great as this one? Plus I have a wonderful family that loves me (hopefully most of the time) and great friends who stand by me and listen to my complaints and love me in spite of the fact that they know me very well.

God forgive me when I whine ... I have this life, the world is mine! Even on a Monday morning.

Karen needs?

2009-05-01T16:04:00.000-07:00

I just saw something new (new to me anyway) on a friend's blog and decided to try it.

You Google your first name and put "needs" after it, both words in quotes. So, I Googled "Karen needs". Then you write down the first ten things that come up that make any kind of sense at all. Here is what I got (really, truly!) ...

Karen needs a lobotomy fund
Karen needs special rehab therapy (those first two are kind of similar. Hope that doesn't mean anything.)
Karen needs to uncomplicate her routines and play to her partners' strengths (what partner? Do dogs count?)
Karen needs to get her a*$ off the ground and actually do some work. (huh?)
Karen needs a man for nsa (I hope that's nothing kinky)
Karen needs a new helmet
Karen needs a vacation (always always always true but my friends went to China without me --AGAIN)
Karen needs to kick/box Tyra's butt outta town! (lemme at her, just introduce me first)
Karen needs some gin while at lunch with her sister (Cristie, come on down!)
Karen needs our prayer

Well, at least that last one works.

Everyone ... give it a try! Or maybe you did this two years ago and it's really tired and old. Oh well! I am, too!

Pets at play

2009-04-29T16:04:00.000-07:00

This is a video I made of our kitty, MaMo (aged 4 months) and our Chihuahua, Dobby, "playing" together. I guess we can see who's going to be in charge!

Cute doggie video

2009-04-23T16:26:00.001-07:00

I thought I would try adding a cute video that someone sent me. If this one works, I'll add one of my own of our kitten chasing our dog! This dog is so cute. He reminds me of our Izzy dog! Izzy would play dead, too, but she just couldn't stop her tail from wagging as she lay there pretending to be dead. How we miss her! Anyway, enjoy the clip.

Life or something like it

2009-04-23T10:36:00.000-07:00

I have plenty of work to do, but I thought I'd take a break and write a few words just to update what's happening in my life right now!

Answer: nothing much! Except for working and church callings and friends and trying to get my house unpacked. One great thing ... I cleaned out half of the garage so I can actually park in there! It's heaven! I get so excited just thinking about it. OK, small things can make me happy! That's my secret to a happy life! Enjoy the little things! The big things can knock you down into the pit, but the little things help you climb back out.

Jimmy is currently taking a photography class (second year) and I'm being the typical proud mom and want to show everyone his latest assignment. The weekend before last (Easter weekend, actually), Jimmy and I drove down to Arizona to visit Jill and her family. While we were there, Jimmy had to complete one of his photography assignments, which was to take pictures at night with the camera on a tripod with a long exposure (I think that's what it's called). He was gone so long when he went outside to take his pictures, I was thinking about calling the police to report a missing person by the time he returned! Anyway, he took this picture of the Arizona sky and I thought it turned out really cool so here it is!

If you look closely, you can see the stars in the sky above the moon. Some are white, but some are red or blue, too. The picture is so small on here it's hard to see, but they're there.

Anyway, I thought it was cool.

Something else that's happening right now is that my job is going to start working four-tens in July (working 7 AM to 6 PM, Monday through Thursday, every Friday off). I am so excited to have a three-day weekend every week! I know the days will be long at first, but it will be SO nice to have a longer weekend. I'm really looking forward to it. I never thought the Water District would actually do it, but we are. YAY!

The next news flash is we have a new kitten. Actually, we have had him for a couple of months now (and he's getting big enough to not be described as a 'kitten' much longer), but he is very sweet and is a nice addition to the household. His origins are fairly typical for people at my office. His mommy was a stray that was living in our outside break area here at work, and Theresa, one of my co-workers, took him home. "He" turned out to be a "she" and of course she was pregnant. She eventually gave birth to three kittens and we adopted one of them. He is officially Jimmy's kitty, but we all know who will end up with him when Jimmy eventually moves out.

Anyway, his name is MaMo, short for MaMoRu (not sure about these spellings), which is a character from the old Sailor Moon anime series, of which Jimmy is a fan. To me the kitty looks a lot like Figaro, the cat from Pinocchio, and I was campaigning for that name, but Jill ruined it by telling Jimmy that the cat would be called "Figgy" for short, and Jimmy didn't care for that idea. So ... MaMo (as weird as that may sound) it is. And here is his picture!

Well, that's all the news I can think of for right now, so I'll sign off! Love you all!

Wedding Recovery ...

2009-04-01T13:28:00.000-07:00

It's been two and a half weeks since Joanna's wedding, so I guess I am finally rested up enough to update this blog! I think I did nothing but make wedding plans for the past three months.

Joanna and Shayler were married on March 14, and it was a beautiful day. We had the reception in some friends' back yard near our old house, so we worried about the weather and were ready to abandon ship and move the reception to a nearby church right up to the last minute, but the weather (and the wind) held off just long enough for us to have a really nice day.

Joanna's Maid (matron, I guess) of Honor had a bachelorette party for her the night before the wedding, and this picture was taken while we were waiting for our table at Cheesecake Factory. It was so much fun!

Here are Joanna and Shayler coming out of the temple. Don't they look great?

And of course I must post a picture of the bride and groom with ... ME!

Here's one of all of my adorable kids with Joanna and Shayler.

This blog couldn't be complete without a picture of the cutest grandkids on the planet!

ALL PICTURES TAKEN BY CRISTIE ROBERTS PHOTOGRAPHY!

Wedding Bells for Joanna?

2008-12-30T11:27:00.000-08:00

I suppose the biggest news for our family is Joanna's wedding plans! The date is set for March 14, 2009, here in Las Vegas.

Here are the details as I know them. (Remember, I got this information from Joanna, who is not exactly famous for her communication skills.)

The lucky groom is Shayler White. He is 28 years old and is originally from the Denver area. He served a mission in Brazil (or somewhere like that, according to Joanna) and graduated from UNLV with his master's degree in Communications. He is currently teaching part time at a small college in the SLC area and is general manager of a Honey Baked Ham store.

Joanna met him sometime last summer at a Young Adult lake trip of some sort. They were "friends" for a while, but at some point things changed. The rest, they say, is history.

Nobody in the family has met Shayler yet, except for perhaps Jeanette and Jeff, who I hear had a double date with them (any thoughts, Jeanette? Joanna's rapturous descriptions might be a bit biased). I must admit that I had the opportunity to meet him, but I missed it. Several months ago, Joanna hitched a ride to Vegas with him and his grandmother, but Joanna insisted that he was just a good friend. Not knowing that he was a "contender," I didn't bother getting dressed or even putting on a robe to meet him the early Sunday morning he picked her up for the ride home. So I missed my big chance. Hopefully another opportunity will come along before March 14. (Just kidding; Joanna and Shayler are supposed to come here in a few weeks.) More info will be posted as soon as I get some!

It's been a while since I was involved with planning a wedding, so if anybody has any helpful hints and discount web sites, be sure to send them my way!

Holiday Fun

2008-12-30T10:19:00.000-08:00

We had the best holiday season ever, with lots of family and plenty of good eats (too bad that part stays with you for a while).

For Thanksgiving, we decided to "break in" our new house and have Thanksgiving dinner here with as many people as could make it: Dad (Grandpa) and Gina; LR, Rhonda, and Angela (from Arizona); Loren, Carolyn, Bradley, Jocelyn, and Caleb (from Salt Lake City); Joanna (also from the SLC area), Jill, Jared, Jacob and Kadence (also now from Arizona, although they didn't stay at our house this time); and of course Jenny joined us for the day and Jimmy was here, too. Both Jenny and Jimmy had to work early on "Black Friday" so the partying didn't last into the night, at least for them! Sadly, I don't have pictures of our celebrations. I have mislaid my camera, but I'm sure it will show up eventually. It's like that when you move. I should know!

These are the only pictures I got from that weekend.

Joanna doing the "why are my feet so heavy" thing with Bradley, Jacob, and Kadence in the kitchen with Grandpa in the background.

Joanna playing with Kadence.

All of my kids were here for Christmas, which was wonderful. Grandpa and Gina were supposed to come, too, but sadly he came down with a cold and couldn't make it. He's supposed to come this weekend for a day or two, at least to pick up all of the See's Candy I got for him to hand out to all of his lady friends. Don't get too excited; they're his business contacts at the courthouse and various places like that (at least that's what he says).

I also didn't get many pictures from Christmas (same excuse as before), but Jimmy got a new camera for Christmas, so I have a few from his camera. Here they are:

Our Christmas tradition of frosting sugar cookies (Jill made the cookies and brought them here for decorating fun).

Jenny with her award-winning, self-portrait cookie (I was the cookie judge, naturally).

All in all, it was a wonderful Christmas season, and I am so very grateful for all of the friends and family that bless my life every day. I love you all!

Snow! We had snow in Las Vegas!

2008-12-30T10:03:00.000-08:00

I know that a lot of you have had lots of snow this winter and it's no big deal to you, but it's pretty amazing here in Las Vegas! They even had a snow day from school, although unfortunately I still had to go to work (and Jimmy's school at CSN was already over for the semester). We DID get to go home early, which is always a plus. Got to get something out of it!

Here are a few pictures of our amazing event.

This is Jimmy on our balcony.

Here he is in our front yard.

We're just livin' in a Winter Wonderland! (Well, we were for a few days, anyway.)

Must Start Somewhere!

2008-12-29T13:22:00.002-08:00

I have been reading my other family members' blogs and I'm starting to feel a bit left out, so I guess I'll jump in and give this a try, too! It also helps to let other people know what's happening in my life and (hopefully) might alleviate my guilt in not writing to anyone anymore! I do have a My Space page, but I have never done anything with it and to be honest, I only got it so that I could spy on what my kids were doing. Hey, a mom's gotta do what mom's gotta do, right?

The first thing I have to report is that I have moved again, this time where I will live forever, I hope! At least I'm hoping that if I ever have to move again, my mind will be so far gone that I won't notice the pain and agony of it all. Anyway, I thought my new house was fairly large until I went visiting teaching last week and saw my partner's house and the houses of the three ladies we visit. Now I consider my new home to be on the smaller edge of middle-sized, but it's all good! At least I have a little extra room for guests, so come see us!

There's lots more news to report, but I'll post that in separate sections so your eyes don't get too tired the first time out. Take care!

Love to all --
Karen