Amazing Photographer!

I can't wait any longer to share this website. Please check it out. You won't be disappointed! http://kimberleeadamsphotography.blogspot.com/

For those of you who are artistic and/or crafty (in the good sense of the word), you might like to check out http://rebeccasower.typepad.com/ I discovered her work through Alyssa who had a wonderful book on journaling by Rebecca. The woman used to write for scrapbooking magazines but has gone on to other things. I have liked her books so much that I "googled" her. In that way I found her website. She is beginning a new feature called Handmade from Home. The first project is windchimes from junk, with photos as well as clear instructions. I suggest you try it...(the webpage) you might like it! Our ancestors worked with their hands out of necessity (note grazing sheep at Avebury in England). The desire to make something new from the materials at hand is in our DNA, I think. Is that why I can hardly wait until I can get rid of this hard plastic splint? Four and a half more weeks!

Thoughts on Jake's Birthday...After the Actual Day

Because of this in between place I am in, I can't post a picture of Jake. They are in this computer, but I don't yet know how to get them from where they are now, into this post. But if you want to see great pictures of him, check out Heather's blog (http://mtgratitude.blogspot.com/) in the post titled "He". My favorite of all her beautiful photos is the one with his nephew because you can feel the strong bond between them. My other in between place has to do with wearing a splint on my left hand. It's still one-handed typing for me, so my entries are shorter lately. But I wanted to tell you, Jake, that I am so glad that you joined our family. It is good to read Heather's blogs and as I talk with her, I realize just how much you give to her. And I am missing our good conversations, too. You have added more goodness than you know to our lives in this family. Happy Birthday, son.

Brace Yourself!

The bands on Nick's teeth are gone now, but I am still bracing myself. At 16, there are so many decisions ahead for him to make--important ones. This Grandma has a lot of love and trust regarding this grandson. Still, figuratively speaking, I hold my breath a bit. One reason: Nick is a driver now! (And I really know he'll do just fine.)

So Very "England"

It was almost exactly two years ago when I stood outside our borrowed car and took this photo. I had taken one before, accidentally changing the setting to video. In that shot, you can almost hear the trees rustling. But I don't yet know how to bring it into the blog, so this one will have to do. The next two are so very Wales, at least in my mind.

I was so struck by all the moss and a dandelion growing out of the top of a fence post. If two photos could symbolize Wales to me, these would be my choices. Today I choose to add in a celebration of the anniversary of this trip, even as we are making one more trip to a doctor's office.

And the next thing that happened was...

One of the Bassett pups was enjoying the attention given by Alyssa. He even climbed on her lap to lick her face. After he and his brother left, along with Chris and family, I noticed her face--it was covered with hives. I'm so sorry Alyssa, that you have to pay that allergy price when interacting with animals. What a bummer!

Surprise!

Don't you love how perception of mood changes according to even small variations in placement of button eyes or other features?

Even though she is allergic to cat dander, Alyssa bought this funny plaque to go with our wall quilt. I've been amused by the expressions on the feline faces for quite some time. And cats definitely do have attitude. Sometimes I do, too. And it is variable as well. For three years now, we have been going on the assumption that Art had a hip problem and that my knee was getting increasingly worse. Neither of us was aging particularly gracefully. So what do you do when you discover that all my symptoms have been caused not by a knee but by a severely damaged hip? Knee, lower back, left leg (side and front), the pain has been referred from my hip. You scramble to believe the changed diagnosis but the x-rays are right in front of you. After a while it settles in as reality. Then, I guess what you do is count your blessings. We are seeing the premier hip surgeon in the state and hip surgery has a much shorter recovery time. During this adventure, I have discovered that I have the stamina to do physical therapy. We have found out how much people care and formed new bonds. My attitude now is this: we are both feeling that no experiences are wasted. So what's next? Art and I both have summer appointments for surgery. For now, we will both have time to recuperate from some other nagging health issues before surgery. Eventually, we'll be able to celebrate mobility, as well as the longevity of our marriage. Hip! Hip! Hooray!!!!!

Art Dances

Ever since I have known him, Art has used the expression "Might as well. Can't dance!" It got to be a family joke. If you said "Might as well..."someone was sure to complete the sentence. But no matter how many times I asked, he couldn't remember where he first heard the phrase. One day, an old movie was on TV and I heard someone say that very sentence. I got pretty excited and thought I would remember the movie and who said it. But, guess what...I don't remember. Help, anyone? Anyway, for once in Art's life he really can't dance at this moment. But someday maybe he will be moving freely again--even more than the man in this newspaper ad for Ballet West!

All she wanted for Christmas was a puppy...

Stephanie got double her wish and she loves the "boys". But look who gets to help take care of Major and Lieutenant!

Pink Foam Like a Cat Condominum

Today it is definitely hunt and peck mode for typing. Although four fingers are free of constraint, from thumb to mid-forearm I am swaddled in a splint covered with rib knit fabric. The tape looks like grograin ribbon. Now about the pink foam: for 48 hours I must keep the hand raised above the level of my heart. Day and night. It would be hard to remember to do this even during waking hours. And at night, nearly impossible. So enter a rectangular pink piece of foam with seven round holes in it, just the size for a small cat to slip through or, in my case, for a bundled up hand. On one end there is a slit to make the opening easier to access and also a strip of velcro to keep it all in place. There is room inside the soft-splint/cast to wiggle my thumb the amount that is allowed. By the way. Dr. Karen Heiden was able to reattach the tendon. No graft required! I've had no nausea and very little pain. Wow! I am blessed! Next week, I hope to have a smaller wrapping and soon be able to move the thumb a little more. I've done physical therapy before, I can follow instructions again. I think I will have to wear a splint for six weeks. Good thing a person can learn to do things one-handed!

Thumbs and Other Digits

The past few days I have been fumbling as I type. The reason? My left hand is splinted (or maybe I would call it soft-splinted) in preparation for a surgery on my thumb which will take place in the early afternoon today. Nothing like not having normal use, to notice the many and varied ways having a fully functional thumb is helpful. For instance, it is pretty hard to open a cracked egg when the knuckle joint will not bend. And removing earrings? Forget about it. How did this all happen? A month or so ago, I was chopping vegetables (can't even remember what) with an especially sharp paring knife. I was in a hurry, not paying the usual attention. Yes, I did cut the back of my thumb knuckle. It was pretty deep but not wanting to go to emergency or anything, I just cleaned it and put a band-aid on. It was tender for a while but seemed to heal quickly and well. Fast forward to three weeks later. Another afternoon, more preparations for dinner. The ice in a flexible tray was sticking so I twisted it. Suddenly, the thumb felt funny. Not painful. Just different. Shortly thereafter, I noticed that it would not bend, no matter how much concentration I put on trying to make it do so. Well, I could make it bend manually, but not by thinking "bend" and having it happen. It just (excuse the cliche) stuck out like a sore thumb! Art had a Dr. appointment in two days. Our primary care doc thought I had probably nicked the tendon with the knife then finished the job with the twisting motion. He was right. I went to a hand surgeon so here we are today, awaiting another life adventure. I have felt a sense of rightness in having the reattachment done. No doubts as to going ahead, although other options were discussed. Even now, I feel no panic, which is somewhat surprising to me. Anyway, I know I will be fumbling around at the computer for whatever time recovery takes. And then, hopefully, nearly normal full use will be the result. (BTY: When in doubt and it is after hours, go to emergency!) As to the other digits (not fingers and toes) we are attempting to keep track of Dr. appointments. The numbers keep adding up. I haven't actually made a count, but it seems to be a big part of our life together now!

Birthdays and Michelle

One of her siblings' birthday was being celebrated on the evening I took this picture. I posted the photo because seeing Michelle's face, her clear complexion, and dark hair and eyes brings not only the moment back but a lot of memories. People used to ask Art and I the question, "Where did you get this child?" meaning that neither of us had quite the same coloring as Michelle did. Many since then have told me what a beautiful woman she has become, and I agree. Michelle was our first born and the day of her birth created a big shift in my life. I remember being in awe of our baby and more thrilled than I have words to describe. The depth of my emotion astonished me. I also remember how frightened I was. To be so completely responsible for another human being was new to me. So, yes, I was scared. Fortunately, Art was there to listen to my feelings. He comforted and reassured me. Still, I don't think it was easy being daughter to such inexperienced parents. Fortunately, she has survived us and our mistakes as well as other difficulties which have come her way. Michelle is an extraordinary person. This photo only gives a small glimpse into who she is and what she brings to life and to the people around her. Even when she was a baby, she had this same alert, curious way of looking at things. She has been able, from a young age, to be analytical and discerning. She is a cat-lover, resident family expert on many subjects and a sensitive and compassionate woman. Actually I can't begin to describe the qualities I admire and love in her. We've had a lot of adventures together. I always think of her when I open my blog because we share a love of red rocks and petroglyphs. Happy Birthday, Michelle, on this your special day. It is a special day to me, also. P. S. From Dad: I recall when Michelle was very young she would speak the french words she knew. She even would sing the song the little children sang in French in the musical South Pacific. Although she was young, I knew she had a special gift with language. And by the way, Michelle, know you are loved!

Emptying My Purse

It must have been at least 3 months ago when Charnae tagged me to do a "contents of my purse" post. I didn't write it all down or count the number of cards and other like items, so I can't give you a total number on what was inside. But as you can see, this was a lot to fit into a VERY small shoulder bag. It is the purse I used to have. I saw the "Buxton Bag" organizer (another purse) advertised on TV. It was one of those ads that run over and over again and, of course, was designed to be very enticing. Art ordered it for me as a belated birthday gift. And then we waited and waited. When it didn't arrive within the promised time, we checked again and were told it was on backorder. We would receive it in one-two weeks. Five weeks later, it finally arrived. I like my new purse with its multiple zippers and pockets. But when I saw this letter to the editor in the newspaper, it brought the whole process back to mind. Don't get me wrong. I really like the new one and so far I haven't loaded it down too much. But doesn't this letter by Jane Randall put ads in perspective? Jane happens to be a member of the Utah Poetry Society. As you might surmise, she writes humorous but very pointed poems.

"I just want to gripe at all advertisers vying--ever more shrilly--for my money. Once upon a time, commercial breaks on TV included two or maybe three advertisements. Now it's 10 to 15. Once upon a time, a billboard was an occasional incursion in an otherwise pleasant road trip. Now billboards are the scenery. Once a single set of yellow pages was sufficient. Now there isn't enough drawer space in my house for all the phone books. Advertisements dog me everywhere. My mailbox is full of them. My newspapers. My telephone is used for them. I see them on buses and watch them at the movie theaters. And guess what every advertisement aims to do? It aims to convince me that I'm not good enough, not happy enough, not smart enough, not pretty enough and not enlightened enough. Billions of dollars are being spent just to tell me I'm inadequate! One wonders where the madness and the greed of free enterprise gone berserk will end." Enough said!

Class Reunion: the oldest dad with his youngest child.

Well, actually he probably wasn't the oldest dad. But here's the story: When we were at Art's last class reunion from Murray High school, one of the activities was passing out certificates for the member with the most children, married longest, etc. We didn't figure he'd get anything, especially after someone had...I can't remember how many, maybe 40 grandchildren, and we have three. (They are VERY special ones, I must admit.) Then the group was asked who was the classmate with the youngest child. Compared to others, Art got a bit of a late start, as we didn't marry until he was almost 28. So Heather turned out to be the person who let Art win a certificate (Woo-Hoo!) for having the youngest child. Here they are celebrating that fact!

Like Father, Like Son

During the 70's, Art noticed himself making judgments of people solely on appearance. It was the hippy era and was easy to fall into that sort of thinking. So one summer, he decided to see what it felt like from the other side. We already were driving a VW bus, so that was in place. That was the summer he began growing a beard after school was out and his teaching duties were temporarily over. It was a good experience for him to see how others might feel, as he fielded the questioning or downright negative stares in his direction. However, we both liked the new look, so it became a pattern set for summertime. Chris, too, seems to like a vacation from shaving. This photo reminds me that the two of them are alike in many other good ways, as well.

It all depends on your perspective...

Last evening we celebrated Stephanie’s birthday as a family. Those who could make it went to Chris and Marsha’s at 7:00. We had the usual cake and ice cream, sang Happy Birthday, blew out the candles, Stephanie choosing to blow them out a few at a time. Her decision made for pretty good photos! There was jumping on the trampoline, playing with the pups, almost full-grown now, sitting around talking, catching up on each others’ lives. It was a pleasant evening, although Alyssa was sick, Tracy had a rehearsal, and Heather and Jake couldn’t make it, either . Low-key, just as I like it. Stephanie and I checked out her latest picture on this blog. We both remembered the night it was taken. Brittany and I talked about books and friends.

And I got one more in a series of photos of Nick from (shall we say) unusual angles. Last night’s was lying on his back with his legs up on the wall by the window. In the one I posted here he was sitting in old furniture, which used to be in our living room, during family home evening. It's really hard to tell that the shoe and the face were both from the same person. But no matter the angle, this is one fine young man. And I am hardly biased at all. Last night, I also got some straight on pictures of him smiling, with a cute haircut from Supercuts. From my perspective, you look great, Nick. And I suspect there are a quite a few younger females who would agree with me!

Sweets for the Sweet

As our family has grown up, one of the things we do to keep in touch is to meet somewhere and have lunch together. Each person seems to have their favorite place to go. With some, the tradition is going to Sam’s Club or Costco, shopping a bit, then eating in the food court. Not the greatest atmosphere probably, but it seems okay anyway. One person in particular likes El Farol, a little Mexican place a few blocks from here. It’s been fun to meet, order bean dip appetizer, then talk and eat. Other places we have gone are pretty generic: Chuck-r-Rama (sp?), Golden Corral, Olive Garden, etc. The guys like Astroburger, just down the road and over a block. Many of us have done Woody’s, Art’s favorite hamburger and shake drive-in. Unfortunately, (or maybe fortunately!) I’ve been quite reluctant since I realized that my whole allotment of points could easily be eaten in one meal. But Sweet Tomatoes has been a good gathering place. It is also where Art and I occasionally dropped in after physical therapy. It was close to the clinic, we could enjoy fresh vegetables and it was nice to have lunch before heading home. But I think the best gatherings of all have been Family Home Evening. And even if there were no food at all for a treat, the time together is very sweet and nourishing to me.

Biker Girl

When I remember Heather at the Halloween party a couple of years ago I have to laugh. Her costume, expecially the tattoo sleeve seems so incongruous to who she is. But now that I think about it...there are some similarities with the stereotype. She is tough, strong-minded, a bit flamboyant and dramatic, ready to tackle things that others might consider too difficult or dangerous, spontaneous, holds on to her guy (though they don't have a motorcycle), is ready to adapt to whatever comes up, sticks up for the underdog, and accepts people where they are. And I am ever so glad that the tattoo effect is temporary. Heather, did you know that when you first walked through our door, I didn't recognize you? Talk about a double take! Heather is a multi-faceted person!

Grandma's Joy

“And Jesus called a little child unto him, and set him in the midst of them, And said, Verily I say unto you, Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven. Whosoever therefore shall humble himself as this little child, the same is greatest in the kingdom of heaven. And whoso shall receive such little child in my name receiveth me. But whoso shall offend (GR. Translation: Cause to stumble) one of these little ones which believe in me, it were better for him that a millstone were hanged around his neck and that he were drowned in the depth of the sea.”

Why do I have empathy for children? Perhaps it was a gift from the pre-existence. Maybe it has to do with having vivid memories of my childhood. Or maybe it comes from some memories, which are cloudy and black, of having grown up the victim of incest. Whatever the reasons, this quote reverberates with me on a deep level. So much so, that recent events in the news have been extremely troubling. I won’t go into the political ramifications, the rightness and/or wrongness of circumstances as they have developed except to say that I am grateful that my growing up was tempered by genuine, healthy love from some of the people around me and that I grew up "in the world" not isolated from it. I am also glad that my great-grandfather chose to follow the prophet at the time of the Manifesto. That, too, is a complicated story. It is not a tidy package, wrapped up neatly. There are always consequences to whatever decisions are made. So why do I choose this photo today? Because, even in the midst of trials, there is joy to be found, and because May 1 is Stephanie’s 10th birthday. Her arrival and subsequent life has brought a lot of joy to this family. On the evening this picture was taken, Stephanie was ready to leave for her dance recital. The shirt was part of her outfit. It was a joyful occasion to be a part of. And this Grandma feels joy every time she sees Stephanie and other children being treated with respect. It is very hard to be a parent (or even grandparent, for that matter). Life is so immediate and the rewards of loving choices can seem very far away. The challenges now are multiplied greatly since my children were young but my memory of how hard it can be remains with me. So here’s to all the people who are making the effort to help the children of today learn how to experience deep joy, now and forever. And, by the way, Happy Birthday Stephanie! Is this the first time it snowed on your special day?