Tiny tantalizing tidbits for you to enjoy...

So I decided to participate in some memes this week. What's a meme you ask? Well I'll tell you (now that I learned myself. Apparently there's a world of blogging lingo out there that one must learn) A meme is when a blogger has a good idea for a post, shares it, people write about it on their own blog and everyone gets together to read each other's take on the theme (btw, I ripped off that explanation from Paige at Life is a Phoenix. Thanks Paige).



Today I will join in with the Un Mom for Random Tuesday Thoughts (yes I know the date on my post says Monday. That's because I happen to be writing this on Monday, but you'll most likely be reading it on Tuesday so it's all good).

Anyway, random Tuesday thoughts are just that--random thoughts. So lets play along shall we.




Because my oldest chicken is preparing to fly the nest, we decided to have family pictures taken. The above is a sample of said pictures. Love it. Only, for reasons I don't want to get into, we can't blow this family picture up into a large and beautiful wall hanging. So on Friday we dressed up in our picture taking clothes (again) and traveled for a photo session (again). I'm hoping the new pictures turn out but it was so windy that day that I'm a little nervous about it.

Also the oldest chicken's hair is chopped off short in the new pictures and Waylon (the youngest chicken) couldn't move his head so I guess we'll just have to keep our fingers crossed for a positive outcome.

Friday morning, just hours before the photo shoot, Waylon decided to jump on the trampoline while holding our dog Jack on a leash. All was well until Jack saw a rabbit, sailed off of the trampoline in hopes of catching it and took Waylon with him. Fabulous. Waylon said he flew up higher than the swing set before slamming into the ground with his face, which is why he couldn't move his head for the pictures. It was bad timing for him to engage in such a little boy stunt, but I am grateful that he wasn't hurt any worse.

I must be growing up because my visit to the Valley of the Sun didn't excite me quite as much this time. And (brace yourselves) I didn't have any desire to go to yard sales while I was there (I ended up going anyway when Waylon and my nephew woke up early and needed to get out of the house so the others could sleep, but I only bought a couple of needed items). I'm just so sick of stuff. SICK OF IT. I'm done with stuff and want to throw all of my existing stuff away. Yes I do.

I hate driving on cruise control. It makes me feel out of control. My husband said, "Set the cruise control."

I said, "OK." Then, "Yuck, I don't like this." Then, "Crap, why is the car making that racing noise when I'm not even touching the gas?"

My husband said, "It's climbing a hill."

I said, "I don't like cruise control." And turned it off.

My husband said, "I'm not tired anymore. Let me drive." My husband likes to drive. Me, not so much (obviously), which is another reason we are living in happily ever afterness.

My house is full of extra chickens tonight because it's summer and that's how we roll in the summer. We invite extra chickens to come spend the night. But tonight we invited five extra chickens and it's been a little crazy in the coop. But only a little crazy and nothing I can't handle because I'm a super tough chic like that (tough as in nothing bothers me not as in children fear me. No children fear me, but apparently they respect me because all is quiet now and I think they might actually be asleep). L-O-V-E summertime.

A hot topic...

We've all heard it from Dr. Phil and other such experts, "Don't fight in front of your children it makes them worry about the stability of their home." Well apparently it's not good to say the word "hot" in front of children either unless of course you are referring to your dearest love.

I learned this today while cranking the tunes to get through my drudge work. It was when Michael Hutchence from Inxs began to tell me that he Needs Me Tonight that I got into trouble. It wasn't entirely my fault though. I mean Paige started it after all when she proclaimed, "He is so hot." To which I agreed then added, "Yes he is. We must look at him right now." So I pulled him up on YouTube and proceeded to Ooo and Ahh with Paige.

Fast forward about 20 minutes...

I continued to work in the kitchen when Paige came to tell me, "Just for future reference, you probably shouldn't say guys are hot in front of B. (cousin). She went upstairs and told S. (honorary cousin) that you just called a guy hot and S. said 'SHE DID?!' So you kind of freaked them out."

To which I replied, "I don't have a problem with that. I'm sorry. The man is hot. And besides I thought he was hot when I was a teen girl, before I was married, so it's all good."

I love the memories that can be triggered simply by listening to a song. Inxs, particularly the song "Need You Tonight", takes me instantly back to driving down the road (Southern to get to school--Broadway to go see friends) in my little blue Karmann Ghia


with my big AquaNet hair blowing out the opened window. I loved that song and when it would come on the radio it filled me with instant sass. I'd crank it as loud as I could and sing along while exchanging glances with certain passersby of the male persuasion. So fun.

Because of memories such as these, "Need You Tonight" will always be one of my favorite songs and Michael Hutchence will always be HOT to me. Smokin' baby. But let me assure my dear niece and honorary niece that they don't need to worry. I will not be leaving my dearest love anytime soon for this dead eighties star-- who happens to be very HOT-- for two reasons...

1) I love my dearest love and don't want any other man and

2) Well... he's dead.

Dearest Brunette Self, will you be my vault friend...

WRITER'S WORKSHOP PROMPT:
Describe a time when you had difficulty communicating with someone who speaks a different language than you.



I have wonderful people in my life. I'm richly blessed. But sometimes I feel like the language of the deepest part of my soul is one that no other person on this earth would understand. I feel like there are certain things I will never, ever be able to communicate. So I was thinking--today in fact, before I read this prompt--that since I alone understand the language of my soul perhaps I should write down my deepest thoughts, address them to myself, read them then burn them in what could potentially be a very therapeutic ceremony.
Or...
I could just find a therapist and skip the whole writing and burning part all together.
Fabulous.

What I really need is a vault friend.
Are you a vault friend or do you just have to spill the beans?
Mail me your credentials and we'll talk.

Continued confession...

It's not that I don't love the one I made the commitment to. I DO. You have all heard me profess my love for him right here on this blog, more than once. I love him for his strength, his conviction and his hottie, hottie, hotness. But even with all of that it wasn't enough to bridle my passion for...
HER.

Oh Paula, I love you. And I don't care who knows it. I know I pledged my devotion to Hugh and believe me I tried to stay true to him, going on a high protein diet and working out everyday, but I couldn't get you out of my mind. I missed your sinful goodness. I needed fat. I needed butter. So help me Paula I NEEDED CARBS, oh how I needed carbs. And so I slowly invited you back into my world and I'm not ashamed to admit that I didn't regret a single moment of our time together.
Until...
I did a cleansing fast, lost 10 pounds, and began to feel healthy again, which lead me back to thoughts of...
Him.

And now I want him back. Oh Hugh please say it isn't too late for us. Tell me that I can still be hot, ripped and sexy like you (or the female version of you). Please Hugh, please. I'm sorry that I betrayed you with Paula. Well, actually I'm not, but I'm ready to forsake her now and come back to you. Well mostly, I'll probably still spend time with her on the weekends, but please know that I'll ALWAYS LOVE YOU MORE THAN HER I promise.

So what do you say we meet for breakfast tomorrow? Come on, please. We can have egg whites without toast... or butter. Yes, I'll do that for you. I'll do it for you Hugh.

That must count for something.

Feeling like a fool...

Are you gonna stay with the one who loves you
Or are you goin' back to the one you love?
Someone's gonna cry when they know they've lost you
Someone's gonna thank the stars above
~Glenn Frey

Confessions aren’t easy. Especially when I know that this will let you my blogging friends (and others) down. But I must get this off my chest. I must come clean if I am ever to move forward.

Sometimes in life we make commitments based solely on the fact that we know it’s what’s best for us. I am one who has done this. I made a commitment to stay with one who was good for me, who had my best interest at heart, one who would take care of me and see me through for the long haul—even though my passion for another still ran deep.

They say transgression begins in our thoughts and oh how my thoughts betrayed me. I tried to stay focused, to push unwanted fantasies out of my mind, but no matter how I tried to combat it, an untamed fervor pulsed through me and soon…it was too late.

It started out small, a quick bite at lunch or a brief encounter for dinner, then it all fell apart. Maybe it was because I had tried to move on too quickly. Perhaps if I had let go in stages instead of trying to stifle my desires so abruptly, this wouldn’t have happened. But it did happen. As much as I hate to admit it, it did. I succumbed to temptation, spiraling into a torrid affair…
with the one I love.

TO BE CONTINUED…

I'm telling you, don't try it...

WRITER'S WORKSHOP PROMPT:
What was your medicine? Write about a time you remember being ill.




It all began on Mother's Day a short time ago. We sat visiting at my mother-in-law's house when I picked up her Nutritional Healing book and while thumbing through it came across the cleansing juice fast. Hmm, that sounds interesting--I thought. And right then and there I decided to give it a try the very next day.

For this fast I had to eat nothing but raw fruits and vegetables for two days then nothing but juice, herb tea, and water on the third day followed by two more days of raw fruits and vegetables after that. The fast was surprisingly easy. By the time I reached the juice day I wasn't hungry at all and never felt the least bit deprived. It was a piece of cake (well, not cake) easy peasy and I even lost 10 pounds. Wow, this is so worth it--I told myself.

UNTIL...

The cleansing portion of my fruit and vegetable party caught up with me and OH MY GOSH I WAS SO SICK. So sick I felt like curling up in a ball and dying.
This is so not worth it--I decided--so, so not worth it.

The only medicine for this ailment was time, patience in my suffering and oh yeah, those 10 pounds I lost. That was kind of fun, but still so not worth it.

Seriously.

His ten cow wife...

Today while huggin' on my husband in the hallway I told him, "You are my completeness."
I then walked away to find Waylon's church shoes and he followed me asking, "What do you mean?" And when I opened my mouth to tell him what I meant emotion took over and I started to cry and then I couldn't get the words out and that's just annoying don'tcha think.

When I could finally speak I said, "It's like the Lady told her husband at the meeting we went to yesterday (we went to a meeting yesterday--in case you didn't catch that) when she thanked him for letting her shine--
--You always let me shine."

And then I pondered just how blessed I am to be so loved, which made me walk around with a little shine in my step and smile in my heart the rest of the day.

Having a completeness is a very good thing indeed.

Dirty laundry...

WRITER'S WORKSHOP PROMPT:
Whom did you hide from? Write about a hiding place you haven’t used for a while.



I wanted to share something really juicy for this prompt. Having a secret hiding place and a story about hiding from someone there sounds like something that could be very exciting if told right. But because I try to stay clear of the juicy stuff on this here blog, I'll share the story of when I got caught smoking (just kidding--that's just rolled up paper) I mean hiding with my college roommates.

My first semester away at school I lived in the dorms. This had its perks (like not having to hear my neighbors having relations at night, but I'll save that for another post) but it also came with a curfew. Blah. Who wants a curfew when you're in college?

Well my roommates and I certainly didn't like it. No we did not. What we did like however were boys. Yes we did.



Boys such as these whom we stayed out late visiting one night only to find ourselves locked out of the dorms when we returned. Oops. Fortunately someone even sneakier than we had left the laundry room door propped opened and in we slid. Woo-hoo. EXCEPT...

While in the laundry room we heard a search party going on in the courtyard, a search party looking for us. Our absence had already been discovered. Dang. We hid in the laundry room as long as we could then, coming up with the perfect plan, we ran out in a giddy, giggly fashion. And when asked where we had been we explained,

"We were just playing hide and seek in the laundry room."

Insert the chirping of crickets here.

They looked at us like we were the lamest goofballs ever, but at least we were able to hide the fact that we were late and avoid getting into trouble. So whatever snooty girls who never play hide and seek or stay out late carousing with boys. What-ev-er.

P.S. I've hidden in the laundry room since that day, but that story fits into the juicy category and it's definitely a place I haven't used for a while--for hiding or otherwise (especially not laundry).

Coloring outside of the lines...

The other night my mom was teasing me about something I've mentioned on my blog from time to time. No big deal really, in fact she probably has no idea what I'm referring to, but it made me pause and wonder if maybe I'm too much of a dork (a.a.h.) to be left alone with something as personal as a blog. I can't be trusted people. I'll always be me. I'll always tell the stories that I want to tell and mention things (albeit eyebrow raising) that go with those stories. Can't help it. Just can't. I like stories. I like sharing stories. I LOVE the human experience and I don't mind talking about my piece of that experience.



Then, as if to let me know that I'm okay, I had an interesting dream that night.
In my dream I was painting a large warehouse wall in bold colors and patterns (somewhat like the playroom walls I painted in my Gilbert house). It was a large project so others came to volunteer their help. As we walked across a field toward the warehouse, one of the volunteers looked at my painting and said, "Oh you shouldn't paint like this. You need to cover all of those bright colors up with something normal."

But instead of being saddened by this or worrying about being a dork (a.a.h.) I looked that man in the eye and with bold indignation told him, "No, I don't want it to be normal. I like these colors."

So there you have it, one of the most important lessons in this the human experience, LEARNING TO LIKE OUR COLORS.

And, even though the joke might be on me...
That's exactly what I'm trying to do.

Happy Mother's Day to one and all...

"What do you want for Mother's Day?" It's a question I've been asked a lot this past week. To which I always gave the same answer,
Nothing
Nothing
Nothing.
Because seriously I don't need anything. But when Rick insisted that he must buy me something while we grocery shopped together Saturday night I finally gave in and told him he could buy me a magazine. And so he did. "Cottage Style" magazine to be exact and I really do love it.
But what I love even more than that--my favorite Mother's Day gift every year-- are the cute little handmade cards given to me by my kiddos. Love.

Here's some highlights from this years special messages:

Waylon says that he feels happy when I take him to the park
That my hands are special for tying his shoes
That I'm funny when I make cards for his birthday
And that he loves me because of the food I make for him

Jamie says that I'm special because I'm talented
That I'm funniest when I call her Charlie Brown
That I always say "Cake-a-poo"
That I'm best at writing
That I'm smart because I know all about falling asleep
That she likes it when we're going somewhere together
And that I'm special because she loves me

And Easton Says:
My mom is dear to my heart because I love her smile. She gives the best hugs. She always has time for me. She's kind. She comforts me when I'm feeling bad. She works her best to keep our family very happy. She doesn't give up easily. She never looses gratitude for what's important to her. She's responsible. She's always happy.

And she also wrote me this poem

In a field of a million daisies,
They sway with the breeze and gently
Each one settles.
They fill the field with joy and delight,
With piles of fair blue petals.
The fairest one stands,
With a wonderful shade of blue,
And Mother the fairest daisy is you.

So you see it's true. I really don't need anything.
I've already got it all.

As good as it gets...

.

Today was a good day.

A very good day indeed.

Thanks Mom...

WRITER'S WORKSHOP PROMPT:
Memories of Mom



Of course I have many, many memories of my mom (still making more too thankfully) but for some reason the first thought that came to my mind when I read this prompt was...
Dresses.

My mom was a master seamstress (I say was because she rarely sews anymore). She made all of our clothes growing up. All. of. them. And she did an amazing job at it I must say. You should see how stylish we were in our old home movies. We were superfly baby. SUPER-FLY.

I especially loved Easter because that meant new (often matching) dresses hand made by Mom for us to wear to church. Fabulous.

My mom sewed like this until we began to get older and needed (NEEDED) the mall in our lives.


And it was at the mall in oh so posh Scottsdale that another fond dress memory took place. It was here that my mom and I went to look for a dress for my senior prom. We found the dress pictured above (this is a picture of a picture that my mom emailed me today. Seems her scanner is broken too) the details don't show in the picture (btw, is that the ugliest background ever or what?) but this dress was sparkly, chic, and gorgeous and both my mom and I fell in love with it the minute I put it on.

I remember it was over our budget but my mom wanted to buy it for me anyway. This was something that rarely happened and it made me feel special that she would do that for me (warm fuzzy time).

And on a side note:

I was not a froofy prom dress girl. See exhibit B, the above picture of my junior prom. Notice no froof. I liked sleek simplicity. No froofy, poofy for me. No siree bob (not that there's anything wrong with froofy, poofy if that's what your heart so desires. It's just not for me. That's all)

Which brings us to another dress moment.

They say that every girl dreams of her wedding day. Well not me apparently because I was pretty nonchalant about the whole wedding planning business. "Whatever" seemed to be my motto (but I'll save that story for another post). So I'm very lucky that my mom used her keen eye to find a large, boxie wedding gown (much too big for me) on the sales rack of a bridal boutique, then immediately see the potential in its beautiful beaded fabric. We snatched up that dress, took it to a seamstress and had it made into a gorgeous gown just for me (with not too much froof. Small bell, no train...you know).

I've said it before, I love being a girl (you can be girly without liking froof) and I owe much of this to the example of my mother who, from my earliest memories, made it fun to get dressed up and be pretty.

P.S. Why eighties hair, why? Why'd you have to go and ruin all of my pictures? Why?

Raising Arizona (for real)...

I've mentioned before that I met my husband in a college Spanish class and that when he walked past my desk the angels sang. They sang then and yelled at me a few times later, but clearly, CLEARLY, they wanted us together. And just this weekend I found a fun connection that might explain why (it also might have nothing to do with why, but it's a fun connection just the same).

For Easton's end of the year project, her class is doing an Arizona fair. She was given the assignment to write a paper and make some kind of diagram about something in Arizona history. One of her options was to write about an Arizona ancestor. Well let me tell you what, that girl's abounding in Arizona ancestors from both sides of her family. Both Rick and my peeps were among the early settlers of Arizona. We have many stories of Arizona history to share, boy howdy do we have stories. No wonder we like it here so much. We ARE Arizona.

After reviewing all of her options, Easton decided to do her report on her great-great-great grandmother on my paternal side, Alice Hanson Hatch (she picked her because she loved the story of when Alice and her family crossed the frozen Colorado river to come to Arizona).

Well in her research we learned that Alice's husband Lorenzo Hill Hatch, Easton's great-great-great grandfather on my side, was first counselor in the presidency of the Snowflake stake (in the LDS church) to Jesse N. Smith, Easton's great-great-great grandfather on Rick's side. So my and Rick's great-great grandfathers worked and served together those many years ago to establish the church in Arizona. Because of this I am sure they had a great love and admiration for one another and very well could have been among those angels trying to get my attention 20 years ago.

And if they were I say THANK YOU!
Marrying Mr. Rick is the best decision I've ever made.

P.S. It was said that Alice Hanson Hatch had a gorgeous singing voice. So much so that she helped share the message of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ through song in her native land of England before coming to America. So I just betcha that she was among those singing for me too.

Thank you great-great grandma Hatch, for that and for all of the sacrifices you made that have blessed my life so richly. You are an example of strength and faith and a true disciple of Jesus Christ. I feel honored to have been able to learn more about you.