The Struggle Is Real

All this time off from school and our regular activities is messing with my head. Today I turned on the news to see what day of the week it is.

OCD

Watching his first full episode of "Hoarders" has sent my husband into a frenzy. "What are these four batteries doing on the table??!?"

The Spirit of Christmas

"To speak truth, sir... you said you were not as good as you should like to be, and that you regretted your own imperfection - one thing I can comprehend: you intimated that to have a sullied memory was a perpetual bane. It seems to me, that if you tried hard, you would in time find it possible to become what you yourself would approve; and that if from this day you began with resolution to correct your thoughts and actions, you would in a few years have laid up a new and stainless store of recollections, to which you might revert with pleasure."
- Jane Eyre

Modern Marvels

I'm sitting in a booth eating baked potato soup at a Shari's in Portland.

And I'm blogging. It's so cool.

Family Portrait

I'm sorry to say that after we spent the time and money to go and have our portrait taken, this ended up being the best shot of the night.

And yet... not sorry.

The Bells

C and H enjoyed meeting the bell choir tonight. Sweet little faces!

The M Nativities

In December 2008, we visited our stake's annual Festival of Nativities.  While we were there, a picture was taken of my daughter Rosalind, dressed in a lamb costume and playing with a toy nativity set, by a Columbian newspaper photographer.  It was published in an article a few days later, along with Rosalind's name and our names.

Mr. Marvin M, an elderly gentleman we'd never met, read the article. He liked the idea and wanted to share his late wife's handmade nativity sets with our festival.   He got out his phone book and tried to call every person named in the article.  We were the only ones who happened to answer.

Mr. M introduced himself and explained his idea to me.  Impressed by his generosity, I wanted to make sure he understood.  "You know that this is just once a year, right?" I asked him.  "They don't go on permanent display anywhere - it's just this weekend.  And would you want them back afterward?"

"No, I want to donate them so they can be displayed at this festival," he said.  "And whoever will make sure they're displayed, can keep them."

Finally, in March 2009, we drove to his home in Battle Ground to pick them up.  I didn't expect much.  I figured we were helping a sweet generous old man who loved his wife and wanted someone to love her things after he was gone.  I had absolutely no idea what I was about to walk into - a professional ceramics studio.

Mr. M was very feeble, but kind and funny, and appreciated our coming to his studio. 

Then we saw the nativity sets.  I was immediately humbled.  They were incredible.

He wanted us to take as many sets as we could carry.  We ended up with three, including the award-winning pink one, still standing next to its prize - a statuette bearing the words "Best In Show, 1988". 

"Are you sure?" we asked him again and again.  He assured us he wanted us to take them.

We made sure to invite him to our next nativity festival, in December 2009. 

For the rest of the year I looked forward to December.  It was fun to think of seeing Mr. M again, to take him on a tour of the nativity festival.  I was sure he would love it, and I wanted him to see that we had kept our promise.

The Monday before the festival, I loaded the boxes in the car and drove them to the church.  Several members of my ward helped me unpack the pieces from the boxes.  It had been seven months since the first time I'd seen the sets - and then for only about ten minutes.  We were all amazed with the detailed work on each piece, and the obvious care and talent that had gone into making these sets.  It was exciting to have them there at the church, finally.

I tried to call Mr. M to remind him about the festival and invite him to come with us.  His phone was disconnected.

I called several people in that area of town with the same last name, asking about him.  They never called back.

Monday night, we drove back out to his house, which looked deserted.  We knocked several times, but everything was dark and it was apparent no one was there.  We left a flier on his door and hoped he'd get it, wherever he was.

Saturday morning, with two days left of the festival, we drove out to see if we could find someone at home... we did.  It wasn't good news.

Mr. M passed away on September 13, 2009, just months after we'd met him and he'd given us the Nativity sets.

I mentally kicked myself for not keeping in better touch with him - not that I could have done anything about his passing away, but at least I would have known before now.  I tried to console myself by thinking somewhere, maybe he and Nellie knew about our little festival, and maybe they could come see their nativities again together.

A week after the festival, a reporter from the Columbian called me.  They liked the story and wanted to feature it and the nativity sets in the paper.  A photographer came over and took wonderful pictures of the sets (hideous ones of me).

After the article appeared in the paper, the Ms' daughter Linda Jones called me and introduced herself. She had seen the article and wanted to come over and see the nativity sets and take pictures.  Having never met her, I wondered if there would be more to her agenda - her parents had made these nativities, after all.  "Whatever she wants, I'll just give her," I thought.

She didn't want to take any of them. "My dad gave them to you, and you should keep them," she said.  She just wanted to take pictures, and she wanted to come to the festival in 2010.  Linda had obviously inherited her father's generous spirit.

We kept in touch all year, and last night I was privileged to meet Linda, her husband Walt, and Mr. M's sweet friend Faith, and take them around the church building to see the Ms' work.

They were very kind and gracious, and fun to listen to, as they toured the main room.  Passing by certain nativities, they recognized and mentioned the names of the companies the ceramic molds had come from.  It was quite educational.  Overall they enjoyed the experience very much.  I was relieved that they were happy. 

They said they would tell their friends about it, and we made plans to meet again next year.  I hope it happens.

The end... maybe.  :)

I'm Blogging From My Car

I'm bugged that my phone ate my post.
Here are the key points:

*A guy in the car in front of me littered right before my very eyes!!! He threw a smoking cigarette butt out the window. EW

*I'm currently unenthralled by, and in fact, quite sick of, Facebook. Have you ever eaten so much of something you loved that you got sick of it and never wanted to touch it again and even now, years later, you still gag at the thought of it? That's how I'm starting to feel about Facebook (!!).

(It was melted cheese curds for me.)

*Geni.com, on the other hand, is currently floating my boat. It's like Facebook with genealogy. You can't really waste a lot of time there, either. I daresay - DARESAY - that Geni will be the methadone that relieves me of my Facebook habit.

*Brennan helped me "build" my first Sim yesterday, and I can't decide how to feel about the fact that it's pretty fun. I was hoping to get some feedback from you.

That's it for now. "Sorry I'm not better-looking."

I love you!

And I love this - rock musicians talking about their favorite rock music. Bono loves Bowie. I knew I liked him...

And I love my husband's kissing all my lipstick off before he left for work. Silly man, I try to be pretty for you - but why bother if you're just going to walk off to the bus stop wearing my "Drama Girl" on your mouth?

"Do nuns wear lipstick?" is my question (you would have to see my Facebook profile picture to understand). So far I'm still in the dark. Something tells me they don't, which is one of many reasons why I'm not a nun. I look like a white piece of paper without lipstick.

That is all :)

Thanksgiving 2010 Notes

Notes to myself for next year... feel free to mock

News You Can Use

Apparently the jolt from a 9 volt battery can make you better at math, so let your kids lick away. 

Hubby: "I don't think that worked for me."

Annie P: "Told my kids once that they are robot and had to lick the 9 volt to recharge. Then they cried. In other news: I am a terrble mother."

Also: "Half-finished bridge" dreams are not my favorite way to wake up. Or dreams where I'm driving over bridges with car-sized holes in the floor... Oops!  There's a hole!

In last night's dream, I had Mom and Harrison and Carter in the car, and I knew the bridge was out, but I started over it anyway, almost went over the edge, and miraculously backed up and got us out of it.

Mom was disapproving for the rest of the dream. There was a lot of tsking.

Later: I was on the radio this afternoon! On the Mark and Dave Show - a favorite of mine - they were commenting about the FDA's proposal to cover cigarette packages with graphic pics of lungs with cancer and people dying.  

I pointed out that I would crawl through dog poo-covered broken glass to get to my ciggies, you think a picture's going to stop me?

I also said that if they're going to do this to the tobacco companies, they should play fair and make wineries and distilleries and breweries add pics of cirrhosis and drunk driving accident victims on their packaging (which will also have no effect).

Another caller said that seeing pictures of smokers' lungs in grade school influenced her to not take up smoking, so maybe some will be discouraged.  I hope so.

I kind of want to see how graphic "graphic" is.  

3:17 AM

I'm watching an episode of Law & Order: SVU about a murdered Mormon nanny in New York City. Whoever wrote it did their homework. 

"Oh my heck, that's so awful!"

The muddiest of buddies

Nathan L and C

 

My Beautiful Girlies

Cute!!!

We made Ugly Dolls in Beehive class tonight. It was Joni's idea. Loved it - we were able to talk about individual worth AND teach basic sewing at the same time. Sweet!

Whew

Watching TV.  A Viagra ad starts. 

Carter said, "Bob (our neighbor) has that." 

Hubby: "What??" 

Carter: "He has that same car, except it's red." 

Happy Columbus Day.

We'll be celebrating by wearing tunics, eating pasta, and enslaving and spreading disease to the local Neighborhood Toughs. Oh, and flying our flag ;)

Theory

Home phones exist primarily for the purpose of calling and locating one's lost cell phone.

I'm Rich

I'm thinking...

… of starting a family newsletter, just for my household, called “The Daily Nag.”

Included would be such motherly/wifely gems as:

“B, that fusty bedroom ain’t gonna clean itself… the Editor”

“Is, you have the most darling tiny forehead I’ve ever seen on a teenage girl, but I’d appreciate it if you’d pick up your rancid-smelling soccer socks from the dining room floor… the Editor”

“H, let’s stop waiting until 9:00 PM to announce that you have homework… the Editor”

“C, you were very well-behaved at the dentist’s office this week. Now get in the bathroom and floss like your life depended on it… the Editor”

“R, I realize you’re six and a princess and much more on top of current hairstyles than Mommy, but it would help if your hair met a brush every few days… I’m sorry you have such a tender head… the Editor”

“Bunny, dang! We’ve had the Nativity sets out since LAST YEAR. Are you ever going to get those boxes out of that rat trap you call a garage, so I can put them away?

“Wait, never mind, it’s September. Save this nag for January 2nd…. the Editor”

It feels great to get all of this out in the open, but I’m thinking it would be a lot of work.

It does help that I’m one of those lucky moms/wives who hears herself repeating the same statements day in and day out… maybe it would be more of a Sacrament meeting bulletin than a newsletter…

To save time, maybe I should just go around calling myself “The Editor” and call it good.