Not much, how 'bout you.

Not much changes in a year in the life of an adult. Christmas is once again upon us and just in case you may have forgotten my feelings on the yule, see here

I have, on a couple of occasions this week, had a desire to put away everything Christmas. Sometimes it just feels like too much work, and no one seems to appreciate the effort anyway. Why try to create the Christmas spirit when all it seems to do is make everyone grouchy?

Eighty eight days and counting on the wedding front.

Oh, and Makayla is growing and happy!


Children, on the other hand, change a lot in a year.

Why dogs have bad breath and other stuff........

Why do dogs have bad breath? Better still, why do they have to lay at my feet while I work and breathe that breath in my general workspace? Febreze, anyone?

Why do dogs pass gas in the same general scenario as above? Seriously, why must you lay HERE and make ME smell it? Highly objectionable.

Why do my dogs continually get upon my lovely couch? This is a complex question that requires a multi-faceted answer. First of all, yes it is lovely. However, when said dogs get up on my couch and leave their fur behind, the mother becomes most angry. Do you have any idea how much of my life is spent de-fur-ifying my house? Just ask the other men who live here. There are days when the vacuum is never put away. If you only knew.

Why do dogs resist the bath? Because they are trying to make the mother insane? Sadly, no. They don't want to get rid of the smells that they have rolled around in and accumulated over the course of that week. Again, Febreze, anyone?

Why do dogs have such cute faces? This is an easy answer. It's so that they are forgiven for having smelly breath and body, and for messing up the momma's house and leaving their toys strewn about.

Forgiven, yes but definitely not forgotten!

Scary Thoughts

Oh the holidays are a upon us, and as I type, I type this somewhat left thumbless. I injured it pretty badly last week, and required stitches to close it up. Gruesome, I know.

It's not a happy thought that brings me to my blog today. I have been overwhelmed by just how many things can go wrong. I had our stake center reserved for Brittany and Nate's reception, and it was promptly canceled due to Stake Conference being that weekend. I'm confused. We are having Stake Conference this weekend, and that it would make it coming up again in 4 short months. Needless to say, I'm trying to reserve our old stake center in Tempe, and am still awaiting a phone call back to put that in motion. What are my other options? My backyard? I should like to do this only to make my neighbor across the street annoyed as I have had to endure many a party of theirs and a street full of cars.

I am having some tests done that are weighing on my mind. Not sure what's wrong with me, but having to wait to find out is torture.

Angry that I am taken for granted. Upset at people who take off. Amazed that some can have such little regard for others. Fuming that some can't even for a solitary moment, make life easier for those around them. People that never answer their phone. These same people you wouldn't call in an emergency, because, (drumroll, please!) they NEVER answer their phone. No one says thank you anymore.

It's uncomfortable to be uptight and anxious all of the time. Have a good one.

Cuteness

Brittany and Nate celebrating their year of togetherness. Collectively now, "Aaaaawwwwww."


Here's something you don't see everyday. The health conscious duo sharing a dessert

Four months and two weeks from now and they'll be married! Happy Anniversary, Cutie Pies.

Chillin'

"Hi, I'm Makayla, and I am living the dream!"

"She's no walk in the park......"

I've been trying to wrap my head around this expression recently. I suppose one wouldn't be if their every waking moment is coursed with having to do something. Someone used this expression in reference to me.

And now I will explain why they are wrong. I am a walk in the park if you only have to sit and watch television or play endless games of Spider Solitaire on the computer. I am a walk in the park if you are allowed to nap at will, and you don't HAVE to do any work in the house you live in. I am a walk in the park if I tend to everyone's needs and you don't have to. I am a walk in the park if the landscape is taken care of regularly and you haven't hired anyone to do it. I am a walk in the park if the dogs you claim to love are exercised daily and you didn't hire a dog walker or a kennel service. I am a walk in the park if you have dirtied up something that I spent hours cleaning and I didn't scream at you.

I am a walk in the park if I spend 40+ hours a week working a paying job. I am a walk in the park if I tend to my own every need and don't rely on anyone else to do things for me. I am a walk in the park if I can do anything without someone telling me what to do. I am a walk in the park if I tend to the other relationships in the family.

Maybe you should take a walk in the park and see if it's any different than what you do now.

More ill gotten booty......

Makayla and her momma.


Makayla bug.


Makayla and her daddy.......something about being wrapped around her little finger.


Makayla looks likes she's so happy and content that she is smiling. I could just eat her up!

I steal other people's photos

Makayla loving on her daddy and giving him kisses!

Makayla Ashleigh Johnson

Meet our brand new baby granddaughter. She was born September 23, 2010 at 9:34pm. She weighed in at 8 lbs 15 oz and 23 inches long. Oh, how we love her already!

Being there for Makayla's birth is ranked up on my top ten list of best moments of my life. I was there when Brittany had her baby, and now Andrew has a little girl of his own. I hope to be present with all of my grandchildren's births.

I really thought that since Jennifer (baby's mommy) isn't my daughter, that I would feel a little more detached from the experience. Jennifer has been wonderful in that she invited me to be there for doctor's appointments and ultrasounds. I got to be in the delivery room along with her mother.

When Jennifer was pushing, my mother instinct kicked in and the tears started flowing. Jennifer worked so hard! Makayla was delivered, and I watched my son attending to her on the little isolette table. It's hard to describe the pride you feel when you see your child becoming a parent for the first time. He was crying, and I was overwhelmed with my feelings of love for him. My baby has a baby!

Andrew has always been and is so attentive to Jennifer, and now, their daughter. I hope that had a little bit to do with me in raising him to be a caring and loving man.

Brittany also had the opportunity to be present when Makayla was born. I have been so worried about her feelings too. Her daughter is still so very present with us, and always will be.

I'm rambling, I think, because I am tired. This much I know, Makayla is beautiful and we love her so much already. Andrew and Jennifer are already wonderful parents. Brittany is going to be okay. And, I love my family more than anything.

I love my brother.

My brother, Nathan, is so awesome. Yeah, he's the boy who used to hit me and pull my hair when we were younger. But, I digress.........

Nathan and I are only 12 months apart, always have been. He is my "little" brother only in the sense that he will always be 12 months younger than me. I've watched this little brother grow up and become an incredible man.

I'm not biased. Just ask his "girls". Yesterday was his 20th anniversary of wedded bliss to his lovely wife, Shawna. He just recently married off his oldest daughter. They had two more daughters after that, and finally a son.

Nathan is incredibly considerate with his ladies. Yesterday his daughter, my niece, posted on her blog about how he always still opens all doors for his wife and daughters. Some women would be offended by that, but not this one, and definitely not his ladies.

It's precious that his children see how wonderful he is. He's smart and handsome. Yeah, I might not have used that word about him as we were growing up, but he is.

Now, my daughter is marrying Nate. My brother and Brittany's fiance actually have the same name, Nathaniel.

Just felt like sharing my sisterly pride today.

Carry On

The monsoon winds whipped at her gown as she walked and carried off her tears as they fell down her cheeks. For this, she was grateful, as it would erase her telltale sorrow to cars passing by.

That night was to serve as the crescendo of her life thus far. She had worked for thirteen years to achieve, have her name called, and that pride of accomplishment that should most certainly swell in her heart.

Hours earlier, the girl painstakingly ironed out the packing creases of her gown. Her gown was deeply purple in color. She nervously daydreamed of the processional and how the music of "Pomp and Circumstance" would make her feel as she walked across the football field. The music carries the melancholy of a space of time ending, and new beginnings.

She dressed in her best skirt and carefully did her hair. She carried that gown into the car so that it would not get wrinkled again before she got there, her graduation. She rode in the car with her mother, and brothers, and sisters. Upon arrival at the school parking lot, her mother was agitated by the others trying to park.

She warned the girl several times that she was not to associate with her classmates when it was over, but, that she was to get her butt back to the car so that she could leave. The girl's face did not give away her disappointment at her mother. She had had a long time to perfect this quality, so as to avoid her mother's ridicule.

The processional was just as the girl had imagined. Music always served as a soundtrack to her life. She often disappeared into it. The lyrics would offer her promise of a better; no different, life. As she walked across that field and saw all of the faces that were beaming with pride at their son or daughter, niece or nephew, grandson or granddaughter. Her eyes scanned the crowd searching for her mother, just to see if she was happy too. The girl didn't see her, but quickly countered to herself that there were just too many people to see.

It seemed to take forever as the nearly 1,000 names were called to walk across the stage and be given their "diploma". They didn't actually give you your diploma that night, it would come in the mail later that week. Or maybe you had to go and pick it up the next day? That part of the memory is faded.

As the concluding speaker wished the graduates success in their lives, the girl became all at once nervous again. She knew that now would be the moment when the graduates would toss their mortarboards into the air as their final act together as a class. She could not be concerned with this timeless tradition, she needed to get back to the car straightaway.

As the caps were still airborn, parents and loved ones streamed onto the field. Classmates and loved ones were hugging one another, but not the girl. She had cleared the crowd as quickly as she could, hoping not to draw any attention to herself. She ran to the parking lot. The girl went straight to where her mother had parked, but the car was not there. She checked herself for a moment, then quickly ran up the rows of cars, perhaps she was mistaken where the car was.

Back and forth and up and down she quickly looked, each moment feeling more panicked than before. The girl continued to look for nearly half an hour, and finally concluded that her mother, and brothers, and sisters were not there. But, when did they leave? There wasn't an empty parking spot in the whole lot. And then it hit her.

People were starting to come into the parking lot now. The girl knew what she had to do. She made a hasty retreat from the parking lot and began to walk away from the school, for the last time. She walked quickly, to get out of the glare of the lights and turned onto the street that terrified her for its darkness. That night, however, she was grateful for the darkness, for then she let them come. The tears. The anger that she was never allowed to show.

The girl slowed her stride on that dark street. She lived 2 miles from that school and it gave her time. Time to vent her rage. How could a mother do that to their child? How could a mother be so blatantly selfish as to steal her daughter's one important night? The tears were falling freely, and she couldn't stop them if she tried and this time she didn't want to. The girl hoped that no one she knew would see the pathetic girl walking home in her deeply purple gown, alone, from her high school graduation.

The girl finally reached home, her mother's car was not there either. But, her brothers and sisters were inside. The mother had gone out on a date with a man. This was the mother the girl knew all too well. The same mother that insisted that if she wasn't in bars all night, then she was one of the good ones.

--I am CJ and this is a true story. I'm considering a second life as a possible writer. Your comments are appreciated.

The fairy tale.

It's true. Despite my upbringing, and I use that term loosely, I believed that there was a prince for every girl. I dreamed, although I never truly believed it would come true, that the prince did exist and would come trotting in on his white horse and save the day.

I dreamed that he would be the guy who would wash his wife's car at least once a month and make sure that she never sullied her hands with outdoor dirt. He would also make sure and consistently check to see that her vehicle was in top working order.

The prince would be the caretaker of the royal gardens. He would make sure that it was in showplace condition and a pleasing place to stroll, have great outdoor conversations, and drink delicious hot cocoa.

The prince would never ever allow the princess to touch the royal refuse.

The prince would make sure that what was important to the princess was important to him, because he loved her. It wouldn't have mattered if it wasn't important to him, just that it mattered to him because it mattered to her.

The princess tossed and turned, as if having a nightmare of sorts. She awakens.



There was a pea under the mattress.

Disclaimer: There were no princes injured in the concoction of this tale. Proceed as you would slowing on the freeway to see what the emergency lights are about, look, and then be on your way.

Tender mercies.

I received a blessing from my neighbor's son night before last. I'm grateful for this. Things have not been well in the land of Nod, and I was reeling and losing myself in the process. I didn't remember who I was and that I have a Heavenly Father who is aware of me and the struggles I have to face daily.

I needed comfort. I needed peace. I still do. I have been alone in this far too long.

It's September, I'm ready already!

It may be a stretch, being that I live in Arizona, to ask for cooler temps and pretty colors. It is however, September and I'm getting extremely jealous of people who live anywhere but here. Why am I still here again?



My niece, Cali, just got married to her Jeff on August 14th. Will you look at this picture please? Aside from the beautiful bride and her handsome groom, did you see the trees? August 14th people!



Apple pie, pumpkins, hot cocoa, piles of crunchy leaves, jackets, and homemade pot pies. Spiced cider, red and gold, playing in the yard, and going on endless walks.

In the words of Jenny from Forrest Gump, "please God, make me a bird, so I can fly far; far, far away from here".

Wedding Dress? Check!!!

Brittany and I ventured over to David's Bridal yesterday. The first hurdle? Please show us something with a sleeve. I knew we were working with a professional when she asked, "Is this a temple wedding?" Oh, thank you.

And, no. This dress pictured here is just for pure entertainment. It got me to thinking about weddings in general and when I came across these little numbers.



You know you live in the modern world when they actually have "maternity wedding gowns". Shotgun and preacher, no extra charge.

Remember when Renee Zellweger and Kenny Chesney got married?



That one was over in about 5 minutes.

Anyway, our capable helper brought out her first set of dresses. I sat in a chair surrounded by mirrors with camera in hand. First dress? Too much stuff on it. I liked the back lace up detail. I like to see something coming and going. She likes a little bit of glitz, but not too much. Next.

The next one was one I picked out from the website. Mothers should just be quiet and speak when they are spoken to. It had coverage, yes, but, was WAY too plain. NEXT!

The third one, yeah, we liked it better than the second one. Eh. Next.

The fourth one, Brittany didn't think she liked it just from how it looked on the hanger. But, she tried it on anyway. It was too big and we weren't quite feeling it yet. Our delightful helper went back and got a size 4 for my tiny little daughter.

IT WAS MAGIC!

The fourth dress! Who knew it could be this easy. No, I can't possibly post a pic here! She was a vision of loveliness. You'll have to come and see her in her glory on March 11, 2011.

I have to rest and pace myself a bit. I get a little jittery when I spend money.

By popular demand

Okay, I am officially freaking out about planning this wedding/reception! Don't tell Brit!

For those that don't know, my beautiful daughter Brittany is marrying her Nate on March 11, 2011. That's a short 7 months and 9 days from now. Tomorrow we are going "dress looking". I am told by my more experienced friends that we may actually be purchasing tomorrow, but we'll see.

Brittany and Nate have chosen purple and white as their colors. A beautiful deep purple. They had initially chosen blue and yellow, and my mind immediately pictured a blue and gold banquet with a bunch of Cub Scouts running around. Thankfully, this will not be so.

I am hoping to meet with an old high school classmate with regard to her cake. We're scoping out photography. She's already decided on artificial blooms. No wilting. She'll have four attendants and Nate will have four groomsmen. We'll probably have Costco do the invites.

I think my stress just comes from wanting to make it nice for Brittany, within the budget we have set. I have a vision, I just need to be able to transfer that vision from my head to fruition. Wish us luck!

Sweet Dreams.

Okay dear friends, let your collective eyeroll begin. IT IS HERE!



A sweet gift from a sweet person. She knows who she is. Thank you.

Happy Birthday sweetness.

I'd love to post a picture, but I want to respect her and her family's privacy. Usually in years past, I have posted a baby photo of her so that she wasn't easily recognized by anyone who might happen upon my blog and put two and two together.

So instead I post with a love and melancholy in my heart for this beautiful girl who came into our lives via my dear, sweet daughter Brittany. I wouldn't trade the experience for anything. I hope she knows how much she is loved, even though a good portion of it falls out of the hole in my heart. I have to keep refilling it, and with her, it's not hard.

Happy Birthday beautiful princess. I hope you are having a wonderful day.

On another note, I was all poised to purchase the comforter set posted two blog posts below yesterday. It was 40% off on Target's Black Friday online sale. I was going through to make the purchase (a Christmas present for myself) and the price went back up to regular price before I could complete the process. Needless to say, I canceled my purchase. :(

It's July 23rd, I'd better post something this month.

Lest you think I have been ignoring my blog completely, I haven't. Sometimes I just don't know what I want to write.

I have a lot of irritations. I want to write about those. But, I can't. I don't want to get preached to for having done so. So, we'll just say that I have a lot of irritations and no relief in sight. Take that, preacher.

Work has been phenomenally busy and I have a daughter who is getting married in 7 months and 16 days. So much to do and not nearly enough time in my day to get any of anything done.

So, I'll just leave you with a cute picture:

Just nursing a Robsession

Is it excessive that I want this comforter set from Target?

Can you say mortification?

Warning: The post you are about to read must never be discussed with whom it is referring. Failure to heed this warning will set off a chain of events that I would not wish upon my worst enemy. Proceed with caution.

Let me say that I love my dear, sweet, youngest child. Mark is a very intelligent child and very entreprenurial in spirit. Mark just graduated from Junior High. Mark loves technology. Mark wants (in no particular order) a new bike, an iphone, texting abilities, a laptop, an XBox 360, and up until a couple of weeks ago; a Nintendo DSXL.

Mark is not a spoiled child, although you might want to ask his older brother and sister about that. But, he wants. And he wants BADLY! He has been hitting us up for one or the other of the above listed items and is online always searching for the best deal.

Now, his dad works for a living and I work for a living. I do not work so that we can live lavishly. I work because I have to. Mark does not have to work for money just yet because there are child labor laws protecting him from that. Well, Mark came up with what I'm sure he thought was an ingenious plan to acquire something from his list.

The other night he came out from the office and announced to me that he had sent a request for gifts from his relatives on Facebook. I said, "YOU DID WHAT?!" Can you say "MORTIFIED"! He may as well have been standing by the freeway offramp with his cardboard sign reading "Down on my luck, Please Help, God Bless"!

I then regained my composure and told Mark, that "Honey, you can't do that". His answer? "Why not?" Up until this point I thought I had trained my kids well in that we don't expect gifts just because and that we aren't owed anything by anyone. Poor guy, I guess his birthday and Christmas never come soon enough for him.

Long story short, he sent out a recanting of his earlier message. But boy oh boy, was he upset with me. Mark sure keeps me on my toes, but I love him to the moon and back.

Bye bye other blog

I deleted my other blog today. It was my own for my very private feelings. Imagine my shock when someone "found" it and figured out it was me and left a comment. I don't think I even knew the person who commented by name, but they seemed to know me.

I wasn't embarrassed by what I wrote there. I just came to realize that exporting your most private thoughts and feelings serve no purpose.

Today, I'm kind of mad. Or angry. Some people just can't seem to keep anything to themselves. What I know for sure is that if you don't want someone to know something, you don't share it with anyone.

I'm sorry, Andrew, that you weren't able to tell your story in your own time and in your own way.

Energy, wherefore art thou?

I have been dragging my butt for weeks now. Not necessarily feeling bad, but not feeling good either. I ached all over and the idea of getting out of bed each morning has been an Herculean effort.

Today, after crying about it, again, my daughter asks if I would like to try a 5 hour energy shot. I've never consumed this concoction before, and quite frankly was afraid to try it. However, since I've started punching up my vitamin intake and it still was having virtually no effect, I thought, "Sure, why not."

So, Brit gets one from her "stash" and says that maybe I should start by taking only half. I drank said half and followed it with an apple juice chaser. (it doesn't taste very good) Within about 20 minutes, I started feeling a LOT better.

Maybe I could paint the house by nightfall.



This post brought to you by 5 hour energy, Extra Strength.

April 19th

It's April 19th. But then, you already know that. I've been watching with great interest on the news how cities are losing money and cutting services to near nothingness. Makes me wonder what the rest of the world thinks of the mighty USA, but that's a blogpost for another day.

So, it's April 19th, four days past the dreaded April 15th, or four days past my charitable donation to the federal government. Why do I call it a charitable donation, might you ask? I call it that simply because I expect to receive absolutely nothing in return for it. When giving to charitable causes, we do not want for ourselves, we want for others.

This month I have been giving money hand over fist to anyone or anything that came along, it would seem. There was the aforementioned donation to the government, (and that hurt like a mother!), I paid $400 to my friendly neighborhood landscaper to remove my giant 30+ foot Chilean mesquite (before it fell into my house from all the rain!), and my home warranty was due (and you can bet I'm gonna pay that because I don't want a second mortgage should my AC decide to die, ever!).

That's not all. My tags are due on my car, paying a vet to vaccinate and medicate two beagles, a windshield replacement, my quarterly HOA fee (yes I know the good, bad and the ugly of it, I work for a company that manages them, remember?), and a bill complete with deductible for an urgent care visit I had two months ago.

All of this in addition to my regular monthly bills. Did I mention my mortgage payment went up by $11.00 per month because, in their estimation, my escrow account would be short? Perhaps they have not noticed that my home value has gone so extremely low that they will, in my estimation, be cutting me a check later this year because there is too much money in said escrow account! Give me back my 85 cents I tell you!

It may sound like I'm whining. Really, I'm probably not. I wish to extend my gratitude at this point to the illustrious and gregarious El Presidente Obama. Thank you for allowing me to fund your uber ridiculous economic stimulus plan, and self titled Obamacare. Thank you for bailing out the banks, we know what would happen if they were allowed to fail. (Duh, they'd have to learn from their mistakes and start square one, like the rest of America).

I digress. It's April 19th, the birds are singing and it's supposed to rain today.

To be or not to be, that IS the question

It's an interesting existence we live. In school we are taught about basic human needs; food, water, shelter, and love. Yes, I said love. That love yearns for us to have some semblance of acceptance from others. We look to our parents for that acceptance in our very early years. What if that acceptance is withheld?

Where is it to be found, then?

Some will look for it in others, substitutes perhaps. Some look for it in the form of addictive behaviours. Sometimes it is placed in the wrong hands. To quote a song, "I'd rather hurt, than feel nothing at all."

The Saviour taught that we are to love others as ourselves. I'm never more reminded of this principle as when the Easter season is upon us. A reminder of how we are to conduct ourselves with our fellow men or women. He loved the very least of us, and the scorned among us.

So, when we aren't accepted by others, or they place conditions on that acceptance, we have a decision to make. Are the conditions acceptable to ourselves? Do we place those same conditions on them? Is the price too high?

We need to examine our intent with each one of our relationships. It isn't very fun to feel that no matter what we do or what our intent is, we can't make someone accept us. Acceptance of this very fact can allow us to move forward without regret.

Life is short. "Some people come into our lives and quickly go. Others stay a while, make footprints on our hearts, and we are never, ever the same."

Girl World

I was having a very candid conversation with a young woman that I care for more than my own life last night. I was left feeling pretty angry. No, she didn't make me angry, but, every other girl that she ever knew did.

Okay, not every girl. Just the ones who, through their own Machvellian machinations, made her feel less than. The ones who couldn't just quietly go about their existence without making her feel bad about who she was.

The movie "Mean Girls" was based on a book by Rosalind Wiseman entitled "Queen Bees and Wannabes". I own this book and have been enlightened to the phenomenon of Girl World yet, at the same time, infuriated by it. I had always thought that as a fellow sufferer, I could somehow change my own daughter's experience in the world because I was so aware of it.

Turns out, I couldn't and I didn't. Those same girls found their way to make my own daughter's life a living hell and change everything that I had tried to teach her about who she was and is. I HATE those girls!!! Yes, I said hate. I mean it.

I was made fun of for just about everything you can imagine from a very young age. It is easy to see where if you hear this daily, you would come to believe that it somehow must be true. ie..."Mom tells me I'm beautiful, but all of these girls say I'm ugly and make fun of me, so Mom must be lying."

I know that my daughter has gone through some very ugly experiences in her short life. I, too, have gone through very ugly experiences. The question is, how do you reconcile what has happened and still come out okay? How do you get to the other side when people judge you when your response isn't what they would have chosen? Or they think you should just "get over it"?

Please pause while I step up on my soapbox. To all of you who escaped a childhood unmarked by trauma, goodie for you!!! I'm sure there is a medal in it for you somewhere. To the rest of you, shame on you. SHAME on you! Moms, stay plugged in. You may think as your children get older that they need you less, they don't. It's a pack of rabid, wild dogs out there and if you're not careful, someone's going to get hurt.

A jury of your peers

I received a jury summons last month. I was all set to go and do my civic duty, but, at last minute it was decided I was not needed after all.

I got to thinking about this. What if the jury was made up of family members?

Let's just say, you, for instance was the respondant in the case. The defendant was, say, your spouse. If that jury was made up of the defendant's family, they would get off scott free every time.

You would know at the beginning of the trial that you were doomed. This is probably where the phrase, "jury of your peers" came from. It's not jury of your family, or jury of your friends. Peers are just random people with driver's licenses who win the luck of the draw.

Wicked Witch of the West

Yes, this would be me.

I have a certain philosophy that I have carried with me throughout my life. Call me tainted by my upbringing or slightly odd, but there is no grey. I see things as black or white. There is no grey area. For instance, for the next three days, they are slurry sealing the streets in my neighborhood. Everyone in the 'hood had a notice placed upon our door informing us not to park on the street between the hours of 7:00am to 5:00pm on these three days, or we would be towed at our expense.

The big ole slurry seal machine just went down the side of the street that my house is on. Guess what? Three doors down, there are not one, but two cars sitting there unmoved! Further, guess what!? The machine went around them!!! Is it bad that I want those cars towed, and towed NOW? Is it bad that I want to be standing right there as your cars are being towed and laughing maniacally?

See what I mean? What is grey about being told that if you didn't move your vehicle, it would be moved for you? Am I the ONLY person who has to suffer consequences when I choose the wrong thing?



I'll get you, my pretty, and your little dog too!

My funny girl.

I'm tormenting my daughter. I do this lovingly, of course. You know how when girls are little they pretend to be the bride and put towels on their heads for a veil? Most little girls have been planning their wedding day from the time they could walk and talk. The only detail left is who the prospective groom might be.

Enter Brittany.

Since she is engaged to be engaged, I decided to pull up some web sites with wedding dresses for her to look at so that she would formulate some idea of what she might like for the big day. "Isn't this a little soon, mom?" she asked. No, dear darling daughter, it isn't. So, she looked.

I have a friend from high school who does the most beautiful cakes that I have ever seen with my own eyes. I pulled up her photos of some of her cakes. "Isn't it a little soon, mom?" No, my dear darling daughter, it isn't. She is so good that she gets booked up. So, she looked.

She brought home an invitation from a co-worker who is getting married next month. "Do you like this invitation, or do you want something else?" I asked. "Isn't it a little soon, mom?" No, my dear darling daughter, it isn't. Would you like homemade invitations or something more formal? So, she'll look.

I love this young woman with my whole heart. She gets more beautiful to me each passing day. I think I've gotten her thinking about what her once-in-a-lifetime day will be. Now, if I can keep her from feeling dread everytime I say, "Brittany, come here and look at this."

Engaged to be engaged.

This is my girl and her Mister. Her Mister's name is Nate Trull. For this Valentine's Day, she was given a promise ring.

Brittany and Nate. Nate and Brittany. It's funny how my two oldest children have been dating people with my siblings names.

Back to Brit. She and Nate are so stinkin' cute together. He gave her a promise ring, she made him homemade pasta for dinner. You know, MADE the noodles from scratch. One thing is for sure, they will always eat well. Nate served his mission in Italy, just like her Aunt Dartell. He cooks for her. He's a very good cook, and we have been blessed by some of his food around the ranch here.

Nate is an ASU student. He will graduate with his Bachelor's in Exercise and Wellness in May. Brittany is a massage therapist. Isn't that cute? Their educations complement one another.

I love the cute little smile she gets on her face when I mention his name to her. So stinkin' cute.

I've fallen...(don't help me!).....and I can't get up!

Mark thinks I need a Life Alert button. After yesterday, and even though I'm only 42, I might have to agree with him. But, I only agree with him to a degree. I certainly would not want to become the reason that rescue personnel laugh hysterically.

I fell. Not just any ordinary fall. A naked fall. A naked fall out of the bathroom. It was like someone ripped the floor out from under my feet.



I put my hands out in front of me as best I could and went down like a Vegas hotel being leveled for a newer and better one. I thought for a moment that I might have broken one or more of my wrists. And then I cried. Not a cute little whimper, but an all out wail.

The backstory at this point is that Andrew was home and in his room with headphones on and the television too. About 5 minutes later he heard me and attempted to come to my rescue.



When he realized my predicament, and then, his, he made a hasty retreat and shut the door and called out, "Are you okay, mom?"

I'm thinking to myself, "no, I'm not okay, but there is no way you are coming in here to pick me up!" Long story short, I finally got up, assessed my level of injury, and got dressed.

Later that evening, we had a pretty good laugh about it. Brittany thinks I need one of those nurse pull strings like they have in the hospital bathrooms. She also thinks I need OnStar for my bathroom. It's great that my family is always there with the humor quick recovery program.

But, I am so sore today.

New Year

I anticipate that I am only writing this post for myself at this point. I figure enough time has gone by, and people will have quit checking to see if I have updated my blog.

I have had a hard time recovering from the last year of my life. Having a lifelong battle with depression has not helped me succeed in recovering either. I didn't even send out Christmas cards for the first time in 22 years. I would tell the story of why, but, I can't.

Admitting that you suffer from depression is a double edged sword for the sufferer. You can be going along living your life, and the minute something is amiss, there must be something wrong with you, the sufferer. "Are you taking your medication?" is the frequent and oft asked question. As if because you take medication you aren't allowed to get upset ever or that people can crap all over you and you stand there and take it with a smile.

Doesn't quite work that way.

I am trying to dig out. I am irretrievably behind in everything that I do. Let's call a spade a spade. I am imperfect in all that I do. I don't need someone to tell me that I'm not that, it won't help. Don't break into my blog and write for me what you wish I would write. My blog is just that. My blog. If you want to say something, start one for yourself.

This was a spot where I used to feel pretty darn creative and I have lost that. I want it to come back, but it hasn't yet. I still feel really raw and beaten down.

So, if you're still with me, welcome. I anticipate writing something worth reading real soon.