Tres, Trois, Drei...Three!

I do love threes. I don't love copycatting. I do love reading other people's lives in threes. I hope you enjoy mine...

1. Three things I love:

• my boys cuddling in the crib in the morning
  
• being halfway into a good book with hours left to spare.
• jumping off a boat into a lake on a hot summer day

2. Three things I miss:

• dancing in the living room and having my mom warn us about the crack in the ceiling
• spontaneous travel
• my really white teeth

3. Three people who make me laugh:

• Jay
• My brother Jon
• Dwight Shrute

4. Three things that scare me:

• Deep oceans
• pedophiles
• high speed wind
  

5. Three things on my desk:

• My camera
• My enormous 52 oz. Diet Dr. Pepper refill
• An old picture of my dad's parents when they were young

6. Three things I want to do in life:

• Finish a triathlon
• Go to a different country every three years
• Serve a mission with Jay

7. Three things that I can do:

• Sing
• Play any hymn in the hymnbook
  
• Pick up things with my toes

8. Three things I can't do:

• Put together IKEA furniture
• Give up chocolate
• Roll out a pie crust without it tearing

9. Three things I would like to learn:

• To play the pedals on the organ on every hymn (but thank goodness for bass couplers and indifferent ward members)
• Portrait photography
• How to apply make-up
  

10. Three things I regret:

• Making anyone feel unimportant or unworthy of my interest
• Gaining weight
• Working at Radio Shack
  

11. Three of my favorite foods:

• Potatoes
• Thai cuisine
• Shredded beef burritos
  

12. Three of my favorite shows as a kid:

• Transformers
• Saturday Night Live (I started young)
• Golden Girls - I have no idea why...Dorothy, Blanche, Rose and Sophia had me in stitches every week!
  

13. Three people I tag:

• Jay
• Kelly A.
• Andrea

Really, anybody should do it. It's WAY easier than a hundreds list for those that struggled with that. It's fun!

Book Review #43 - The Beggar King and the Search For Happiness

Sometimes it is refreshing to read a simple, nice book without a lot of personal investment (time, emotions) and come away uplifted and slightly better. This is that kind of book. I read it because I checked it out for my sister to read on her spring break for her ward book group and she liked it. The author, Ben Izzy is a Jewish professional storyteller who uses fables to illustrate his personal story. Through timeless stories from many different cultures and his own enlightenment after losing his voice from a surgery to remove cancer, I felt like I was let in on a little secret on how to become happy in spite of the world shouting at me that it is impossible.

I really, really liked this. It is a simple, quick read and one you can share with anyone without regrets.

SPT - Virtual Refund

Lelly's challenge this week was about shopping.

the very nice taxman (who is happy that you filed your taxes!) has given you a $100.00 'virtual' refund. you can 'spend' this money to update one item in your wardrobe.



One-Hundred dollars appears different depending on how the change is made. I've thought of several spending scenarios.

1. One one-hundred dollar bill.

You just can't lay down a hundred-dollar bill anywhere without appearing high-flutin'. Certainly not at the 7-11 for my daily $0.97 Diet Dr. Pepper refill. And not for the frosty from Wendy's that I seem to be regularly appeasing Sammy with as a bribe to run errands with me tear free.

Depending on how I look that day, I feel judged one way or another when I pay with a big bill. Dressed in my normal, low-maintenance garb, I feel my Shop-Ko discount clothes act as a scarlet letter, announcing to the salesperson that my shopping there is a special treat...like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. Sometimes you have to look the part to get decent service. I swear, even the Gap can sniff out the brand George or Bailey's Point.

No, that hundred dollar bill will likely stay in a mail slot in our hallway mirror until a suitable cause can be found to spend it on. Because I know, once that perfect bill is broken...it will be nickled and dimed to death and I won't know exactly what I spent it on.

2. Two fifty-dollar bills.

Ideal shopping money. Fifty dollar bills feel like big money without the stigma of snobbery or it being a gift. With fifties in my purse/envelope/jean pocket, I can comfortably shop at the mall. Given strict instructions from Jay to buy myself some new clothes, I head to the Gap but can't find anything I like that flatters me. Deterred but not hopeless, I'll head to Macy's or Lane Bryant to find cuter clothes larger than a size 12 but can't drop $60 on a pair of jeans or $40 on a top. That's half my money, for crying out loud! Let's go to the discount/clearance section. Now we're talking...here's a skirt for $8.00 but it's wintry and I'm looking for something springy. And that sweater is cute and a good deal for sure, but I'm sure I'm not going to be this size come fall/winter so I'm not going to spend my money on that. I leave the store empty-handed.

Along the way though, I see adorable clothes at Gap Kids, The Children's Place and can buy their discount/clearance clothes for my kids. I know what size they'll be the next season and it is a lot more fun to leave a store with heavy bags of jeans and sweatshirts for the fall, knowing I saved 70%. Oh well, I'll buy myself something next time.

3. Any smaller change...

I don't exactly know why, but even twenties seem harder to keep track of lately. They camouflage themselves into my grocery money, or get used on the weekend at a restaurant or Target. Tens and Fives tend to blend into babysitting money or get used for a drive-thru car wash. Ones? Fuhget about it.

Lucky for me, I have my trusty-tan to help me out with situations exactly like this one. Who needs to buy new clothes when I can wear this versatile, comely sweater over most things?! What else could I possibly need? Probably a cuter sweater.

Go Back Where You Came From

Before you call the ACLU, know that I am referring to my own alter ego - horribly-stressed-out-self-absorbed-no-fun-to-be-around, Lucy.

What a difference a week and one less house makes. Last Monday, I seriously thought I was starting to lose my mind. Everyone and everything bugged me. I wondered if the world was picking on me and was annoyed by everyone else’s charmed lives. Honestly, I think I got a glimpse of what the start of a nervous breakdown might feel like. I have no idea why the sale of our house affected me so. Perhaps it was never having to move growing up. We stayed put and I never witnessed the stress of a move or really how a grown-up should handle it. I've certainly moved before though. Heck, I moved every semester in college. Of course, it was easier then when I could fit every single one of my belongings in the back seat of a car. And I never had to sell what I was living in.

I felt so vulnerable about everything. I don't know about any of you, but I find it a bit overwhelming to let strangers wander about in my house, looking at my things and thinking, "tsk, tsk" or "no, thank you. I don't want to live here." I mean, I made the decision five years ago that this house was perfectly fine. If it didn't sell, wouldn't that say something about my own judgment?

On the flip side, all of that personal responsibility regarding the house has led to this halo following me around the last few days. The quick sale and subsequent requests all weekend long to see the house and the disappointment that it's sold already have me feeling all loved and adored. Why? I do realize they aren't buying me. Sort of. I guess.

I've always been a moody person and know that this glow won't last but I'm loving every minute of it right now. This morning, I exercised (you know I've got to be feeling pretty good for that to happen), cleaned the house (I'm trying the maintenance thing for now) and met friends at the park for almost three hours. A perfectly reasonable day. In fact, it's my kind of day. I hope it's the kind of day I get to have the next two months I'm here.

And that not-so-fun, willing to skip book group to clean (shudder), shooer away of children monster that I learned I can become under duress??

Adieu, ciao, cheerio, toodle-oo, buh-bye.

SOLD!!!

contingent upon inspection...BUT SOLD NONETHELESS!!

Both offers met our counter offer but they both stopped at our asking price making their offers equal once again. We wish one would have been higher to make the decision a little easier. Unfortunately, we ended up having to choose one offer over the other and we ended up choosing the couple that walked through it first. I felt bad for the other couple who really wanted it and offered as much as they could because they were from out of town and I KNOW how hard it is to find a house when you aren't from the area. Only the husband saw it and when he found out we were already getting an offer, he sat with his real estate agent in the car and wrote out an offer on the spot. His agent told us about them, that they were a nice LDS couple; he just got a job here with Avista and his wife was graduating, but his wife hadn't even seen it and we worried that of the two offers, theirs was more likely to have some sort of snafu happen.

The couple that bought it are newlyweds and this is their first home. They are really excited about it and it feels good to sell our home to someone that seems to love it (I feel like letting them know about all the annoying things about it but I suppose they'll find out soon enough). They were even willing to move the closing date to accommodate us until the end of June (June 21st looks like our last day here).

I don't think the home inspection cause any problem (fingers crossed). This morning, when we had morning prayer, Seth thanked Heavenly Father for answering our prayers. He told me that if Heavenly Father hadn't helped us out, it might have been WEEKS before our house sold! I love that boy.

Imagine me doing a happy jig right now.

Update

Two offers! Within minutes of each other. The crazy thing is both offers amount to the same. One is for our asking price but they want us to pay their closing cost ($3000) and the other is for $3000 less than our asking price. So, we countered to both back up to our asking price. We'll see!

I admit to feeling a bit giddy right now.

For Sale!!!

The sign is up and everything. Three people have already called. It's gearing up to be an interesting weekend.

Email me if you want to see the virtual tour. Let me tempt you over there by saying that soothing music awaits you.

lucyhj4302@msn.com

My Firstborn

I didn't grow up dreaming of being a mother. I don't know if any of you remember a song from Young Women's called "My Nature Is Divine" but there is a line at the start of the song that goes:

Why is it when I hear a baby cry
My arms reach out in love I can't deny?

My own feelings as a teenager and young adult were almost the antithesis of those lyrics. I remember singing:

Why is it when I hear a baby cry
I think, "Be quiet. Be quiet. Be quiet."

I used to wonder what was wrong with me. Why didn't I go ga-ga over babies? It wasn't until Jay and I were really ready to start our family, and learned that it wasn't as easy as we were lead to believe in health class, that I yearned for a child of my own. The day I peed on a stick and it finally showed two lines was probably my happiest day ever up to that point.

Thirty seven weeks later after seeing those double lines, Jay and I had finished the first week of a four week birthing class. Not many actual coping skills get covered that first week, but the teacher did manage to introduce the ever effective counting-to-ten-with-calm-deliberate-soothing-voice. Our classes were held at the hospital on Tuesday nights and Jay and I were ready for week two. Early Tuesday morning, at about 3:00 am, I woke up to use the bathroom and pulled myself upright on the couch (I'd switched to sleeping there a couple of weeks earlier. Our storage-unit special of a bed wasn't keeping me comfortable any longer) when my biggest fear came true. My water broke in a great, dramatic gush. I had pestered and pestered my doctor asking how likely that was to happen and was repeatedly told that great gushes rarely happen, except in movies. I was very worried that I'd be working, have my water break and have to leave knowing someone else had to clean it up. Obviously, there are worse things to be afraid of, but I was a bit obsessed by it. I was grateful I was home but still, I felt like calling my doctor and shouting "I knew it would happen!" at her.

I called out to Jay who immediately freaked out because we didn't have a bag packed. I guess they teach that during the second class. I called the message service for my OB and when the doctor called back, she told me that I should get to the hospital fairly soon but there was no great rush since I hadn't had any contractions yet and first time labor tends to be slower. I took a shower but didn't find it very relaxing as Jay kept poking his head in asking me where such and such was. Finally, he told me that we needed to go and I needed to get out of the shower.

We drove to the hospital, which was only a few blocks away and didn't really know where to park since we had never driven there before. Luckily, it was 4:00 in the morning and we could do u-turns in the middle of the street without any fear of causing an accident. As we got out of the car, I had my first contraction. Yowzers!

We checked in and I decided to walk the halls. With every contraction, Jay did all he was trained to do; he counted to ten. Over and over. I think there were some back rubs thrown in there too, which he totally came up with on his own:) We managed that routine for an hour when I decided I couldn't handle it any more. Back in our labor/delivery room, I requested an anesthesiologist to come and give me an epidural but when they checked my progress, I was already at a nine and they told me it was too late and soon I would need to push. The last hour, Jay kept counting with each contraction until it seemed like all he was doing was counting. I became a bit grumpy and told him (possibly in a stern tone) enough with the counting. It was so scary. We were just so unprepared for a fast, drug-free labor. A few more pushes and Seth Carl was born at 7:20 am. He was beautiful...and purple. I cried. Jay cried. Seth was screaming. Life would never be the same.

Three month-old Seth

Seth is an ideal firstborn. Obedient and sensible, he leads the way for his younger brothers. My greatest goal as a parent is to not mess him up. He was born with the kind of faith I pray for and a charitable heart. He's the perfect mesh of Jay and me. He's long and lanky and seems to have some aptitude for his greatest joy in life - sports. He loves music and reading and his friends but best of all, he loves making good choices. Sometimes to a detriment. If he doesn't think he has made a good choice, or worse...if I or his dad have told him he hasn't, there is some major self flagellation that takes place. He is his harshest critic and it can make parenting him tricky. How do you correct a child, lovingly, and avoid having him hit himself in the head or saying, "just sell me"? But there are worse flaws - right?

Considering the week I've had so far, I'm relieved beyond words that he had a good day today. Today we had our realtor come over and take pictures for the virtual tour and pamphlet and tomorrow, our house is officially "For Sale". I honestly didn't know how I was going to handle getting everything done that I needed to and still have this wonderfully sensitive boy feel appreciated and special. He woke up and we all sang Happy Birthday and I whipped up some Krusteaz pancakes. There were some tears after he kept teasing Sam that he got to have the first bite and Sammy put a big forkful into his mouth before the blessing. After coaxing him back to his plate, he scarfed down three big ones (and I'm talking about plate size). He walked out the door feeling goofy and happy and I told him I'd see him at school when I brought in his birthday treat.

Seth's "girl"friend Emma looks adoringly at him (I thought you would appreciate this picture, Andrea)

Lucky, lucky me...what does this great kid want for his school birthday treat? Easy-queasy-no-bake Sour Skittles!

Being the birthday boy is serious business 'round these parts.

I went to Costco to get a box and then to his classroom. When I walked into the room, his teacher realized that it was his birthday and asked him why he didn't say anything all day?

Finishing his geography lesson before any festivities can begin.

I don't know why he didn't say anything but was so glad I went in and brought treats because his teacher turned it on and suddenly everyone was making him a card and singing their special made-up birthday song.

We usually eat out for birthdays, which is a good thing because there was no way I was messing up the kitchen tonight. Seth chose Red Robin and ordered his usual chicken fingers. It's always fun for the whole family.

Here's a fun game we like to play at restaurants. It's called "throw everything I can get my hands on off the table" Who wants to play with me?

Yup...I can still reach it. Whee!

Embarassed with all the fuss (but so glad too!)

The performers - don't they look thrilled to be making $5/hour AND singing to a seven year old?

Splurge! We actully put quarters in it this time.

You never know what you're going to get when you ask a waiter to take a picture. Ah well..at least Jay and Henry look cute.

When we returned home, Seth opened his present from us and loved his new laser tag get up. He and his dad ran around shooting each other in the back yard. They had a great time.

Nerd #1

Up-and coming nerd #2

Nerds unite!

I love my Seth. Happy Birthday buddy.

When he feels carefree....

When it's all about the business at hand.....

He makes me go GA-GA!!!!!!!

Ten Things You Will (Probably) Never Hear Me Say....(because I've learned that you never say never)

1. No thanks, I'm not in the mood for chocolate.

2. That TransAm is sweet!

3. Hey...let's remodel the bathroom ourselves. How hard can it be?

4. I'm so glad they didn't remember to take off the tomato like I asked. It actually looks delicious!

5. Maybe I should start an in-house day care for some extra cash.

6. Those leggings look really cute on you.

7. It is cute, isn't it? Yeah...I'll teach everyone how to make it at Enrichment.

8. I love being pregnant. The glow, the energy, the perfectly cute round belly...

9. I'd really like an animal print theme in this room.

10. There are way too many comments from people on this post.

What won't you say anytime soon?

What I Believe

In this week's Newsweek, Jonathan Alter interviewed Elizabeth Edwards about her feelings following the discovery of her returning cancer. She discusses how her views about faith and God changed after her son was killed eleven years ago and now, once again, with her current battle with cancer. Her conclusion, as she gave it to Alter, was that God makes no promises except that if she does the right thing, she will be enlightened and if she believes, she will be saved. While I respect her beliefs and acknowledge her suffering, I think God promises a great deal more.

As I continued reading the interview of Elizabeth Edwards, my own feelings about what God promises came to my mind. I don't have any scriptures or articles at my fingertips, but I'm not attempting to be an apologist or a scholar. My thoughts and experiences are purely my own.

The Easter season gives us all a chance to reflect on the climax of Christ's earth life and teachings. Most importantly, it celebrates His supreme act of love: the atonement. In the pre-mortal existence, He promised that we could gain a body by experiencing earthly life. He promised that he would send his Son, Jesus Christ, to show us how to return to live with Him again.

Through the atonement, He promises that with His power, we can all be forgiven, be healed, and be sanctified. He promises that through the resurrection of Christ, that we will all be resurrected and restored to our bodies. He promises that through the power of the priesthood, families can be together forever.

He promises that He will not leave us alone, but that prophets will be sent to guide us back to him. I believe that He has kept his promise and that prophets once again are on the earth. He promises us the gift of the Holy Ghost to guide and comfort us.

This is sounding stiffer than I meant it too. I want it to be personal but don't have the time to toil over every word. I have great joy in the knowledge and testimony that I have. I have hope that I will receive His greatest promise of all, to have all that He has and to live with Him and my savior again and my family will surround me. My heart and mind tell me all of this is true. I have felt it after the lowest of lows and my highest of highs. I believe with my whole heart that He loves me and He wants me to be happy. Right here and right now...not eventually.

Happy Easter to all my dear friends and family. I love you.

The Good, The Bad and The Ugly

I went here today at the invitation of sister Jen.

The Good:

• getting to see sister Jen, of course.
  
• cousins getting to play together for a day.
• watching crazy Sammy in the water. He's a fish.
• watching scardy-cat Henry be brave in the water. Apparently, drowning is not nearly as scary as going down stairs or walking.
• watching Seth and Sam do happy dances when their bowling balls hit any of the pins. (which had a very high likelihood as the bumpers were up)

The Bad:

• watching Seth hug himself trying to stay warm in an INDOOR water park because the child has zero percent body fat.
• keeping Henry content in the baby pool when all he wanted was to crawl into the wave pool.
• standing in line to order greasy amusement park food for a half hour while holding a crying baby.
• losing a really nice neoprene life jacket. (thieves!)

The Ugly:

• having the stake high council representative over music (who is my age...maybe a few years older) come sit next to me and visit while I'm sitting in a white plastic chair, dressed in my miracle suit swimwear, trying to position myself to minimize visible cleavage. It wasn't a super relaxing moment for me.
  

Road Trip!

I've been less than stellar in the adventurous mom category this week and the kids and I needed a little pick-me-up. Although we only travelled 30 miles each way, we did cross a state line. In my current state of mind, it totally counts.

Spring Break is this week and if you haven't been able to tell, it hasn't really been party central around here. When I decided against going to Canada to visit my sister, I promised my kids (and myself - to stop the shedding of tears) that we would do at least one fun thing a day. This is how a not-so-fun mom entertains her kids during spring break:

Monday - invite Alisa's kids over to entertain mine while I paint the spare bedroom. While Henry was sleeping, I put in headphones and listened to a IPod shuffle so that I wouldn't be distracted by any sounds of conflict or tears. (I was assured by all the kids afterwards that they had a great time.) When Henry woke up, it was a lot more difficult. The kid is fast and when a few moments of too much quiet passed, I hurried upstairs to find him gnawing on the paint roller (that can't be good for him). I threw away his clothes and put him in the tub and shut the door to the room. So...kids over....mom doesn't disappoint. Yay!

Tuesday - Alisa has Seth and Sam over to play while I run to Lowe's for more finishing supplies and grocery shop. Sadly, that is all I got done as both errands took forever. My house got cleaned that day so while all the floors were clean and dry, I put a finishing solution onto all of them so that they had some sheen. (I can't believe I hadn't done this before! They look so much better!) The boys were banned from the upstairs for an hour while the floors dried so I let them watch NASCAR. They wanted to go to the park but I informed them that they had already done one fun thing for the day.

Wednesday - Rebecca came over to help me "stage" some of the rooms of my house. She got her degree in Interior Design so had lots of helpful ideas for me. I clearly don't have the knack but she was very polite about it. :) She brought her kids over to play with my kids. Anytime kids come over to my house, I am putting a deposit in the fun-mom account.

Today! - Real fun. Not the pretend stuff I've been passing off as fun to them all week. Rebecca, Andrea and I decided to try out a new bounce-n-jump place out in the valley. None of us knew the actual name of it and it wasn't showing up on any google search but we had a rough idea of where it was located so we caravaned out to the building. Unfortunately, a private party had booked it so it was closed to the public. Not to be deterred from fun, we all decided to drive out to one of those "playground of dreams" in the next town. A little extreme, perhaps, for a playground date but all the kids had a good time and I felt like I got to do something fun. For once this week.

Here are some photos of our outing:











Now it's back to the grind. I just dropped the boys off at the hospital to scanner sit with jay and I am finishing up organizing the crawl space. This weekend will be busy with yard work but I think we'll put the sign in the yard on Tuesday!

Sammy's New Passion

There is a part of me that loves having only boys.

After all, I'm not really a girly girl. I will do my hair and make-up because it makes me look better and I can be vain but I don't enjoy it. I don't like shopping. I don't like perfume. Accessories* only complicate things and cost money that I'd rather spend elsewhere.

On the other hand, I really like sports. I like playing them. I like watching them. I even enjoy listening to a sports radio personality talk about them if I'm driving anywhere with Jay (Tony Kornheiser is funny!).

Having rough and tumble boys has worked for me. They entertain each other while I get to be Queen of the house without any competition from princesses. Added perk. . .Jay has bathroom duty when we are out and about.

Sammy has thrown this fragile equilibrium way out of balance, however. He finally found a passion. And momma doesn't like it.

Seth has always been the one with passions. He likes something and gets really, really into it. Two years old? It was Curious George (although he had help on this one from me...) Three years old - Toy Story. Four Years Old - Go Bots. Five years old - Rescue Heroes. Six years old - Sports (his fanaticism changes depending on the season). Sprinkle some Star Wars through the last couple of years and there you have it. An easily entertained, easy-to-shop-for little boy.

Sammy has never been hard to please but has never had a "thing" like Seth. He liked Thomas the trains so we got him some of those which he kind of likes. He has always like to draw so we've purchased a lot of supplies to keep him happy that way. And it does. But it's not his passion.

He plays basketball and football with Seth but usually quits before Seth is ready. Seth can usually coax him back into playing with future promises of some sort, like inviting him to his birthday party, but Sam doesn't feel the same way about sports that Seth does (which I think is absolutely O.K). I wondered if Sammy was simply more like me who doesn't really have favorites. I obviously turned out fine. :)

All this changed three weeks ago when Jay took the boys to the library. As usual, they came home with bags full of non-fiction literature. Most of the books were about certain football teams from decades ago or the history of basketball (bedtime stories lose their sparkle when you are reading about the Minnesota Vikings) but a certain book snuck into the bag that sparked Sammy's fire.

It was a book about NASCAR.

I don't like NASCAR. I don't want to like NASCAR. NASCAR represents a lot of things that I turn me off. But Sammy's big bi-focaled eyes light up at the mention of Jimmie Johnson now. He gets excited when he sees a Lowe's delivery truck driving around town. He's become as smart with car numbers the way Seth is about football jerseys. It's his thing. He chooses Bristol over the Backyardigans. . .and they are such cute little dancers.

Seth is into it. Jay is into it. They watch races and yell and clap and high-five. Who are these people? We aren't NASCAR. Or so I thought.

My choice is whether or not to join the group. I hate being an outsider in this all-male family. Until now, I never felt like one unless I wanted to. What's a girl to do? My vote is useless. It's four to one.

It might be time for a daughter.

*diamonds do NOT count. This is more about belts and scarves and purses

SPT - Plays Well With Others

one of my favorite comments has to be "plays well with others." elementary school social skills speak volumes for the people we will become. were you a shy child? were you the class clown? the social butterfly? do you still identify with that inner child? what are you doing for "play" this weekend?


do you play well with others?

At first glance this seems like a fun self-portrait challenge. I have always been social and tend to make friends easily. I immediately thought of the great friendships I have been blessed with throughout my life. I love to play. I love my friends. I definitely play well with others.

But as the week progressed and I looked through old pictures and tried to find any newer pictures (I'm really not in very many. . .it's the mom photographer phenomenon) and the truth hit me. I've mellowed.

Mellowing doesn't have to be a bad thing, I guess. While I miss the carefree playing that is allowed and expected in high school and college, I certainly don't regret my life now. I suppose I could be one of those crazy, playful moms. I'm not. Perhaps I should be. It doesn't really feel like me anymore. I don't know if I should be sad about it. It feels a little sad. But isn't there a saying about a good wine mellowing with age? I guess I'm like a good wine. . .although I'm going to have to take another's word for it.:)

Here are some of my favorite playmates.

Jill (aka Babs) and I solidified our friendship over dancing, church and bad dates:) She is really a blast to be around and stuck through me through some pretty rough patches. Even when we haven't spoken in months and months, when we reconnect it's like we haven't missed a beat. We could probably still do some of the dances we made up together - or at least one specific move that we practiced over and over again (I know you know it, Jill!)

Erdie (Michelle) and I acted in our friend Kari's student body president's speech. I was the principle, Michelle was the vice principle and Kari wrestled us. Wow...the lengths we'll go to to hold office in high school!

My best friends in high school. Clockwise starting with me at the bottom: Me:), Lisa, Kari, Diane and Jill.

We never needed a reason to dress up...but I'm pretty sure this was Halloween.

I was always great friends with my volleyball teammates. You spend so much time during a season with them that even if you don't hang out on weekends, all the bus time and road trips makes for some great friends.

I "played" with this band for a summer. They were the Dixieland Seven and decided to add some vocals to a few of their songs. We even made an album! It was called Zizzybaluba (I think). I wish I could have sang with them more than a few times. It really is my dream.

Disco skating in college with the roomies (Michelle and Valerie). I was tough to live with in college so these girls were gems to put up with me. We had some great, great times.

Every wife of a med student needs a couple of good friends to keep her going. I had two great friends during those four years. Here's Libby...

and here's Christi. My sister-in-law whose husband did dental and periodontics school told me as we were starting that some of my life-long best friends would be made while we were in school. She spoke the truth. Going through it together cements a friendship.

Here's most of the girls and couples we hang out with now. None of them are wives of residents which doesn't really make a difference. Although sometimes it's hard because you know nobody really understands what it's like.

Andrea and I have been friends since I moved here but we've really bonded lately with bookgroup and blogging. I will miss her enormously next year.

But, my girls KariAnn and Andrea love to play as much as I do so I know that after this phase, I'll have more lifelong friends. At least we'll hook up and do some cruise karaoke every couple of years!

A for effort?

I am usually an A student. Not straight. I had a few B's and B+'s peppered into my GPA but I tried hard to do what I had to do, work whatever angle (but not that!), do extra credit or whatever it took to achieve that symbol of excellence. There was a big ol' blemish on my college report card, though. It was my Motivational Psychology class my sophomore year (I was still a psychology major - my rebound major for a year after I dropped out of the vocal performance track) and by the time the spring final rolled around, I was mentally tired. I sat in the testing center with my bluebook and read the question and simply could not sit there for another minute writing about something that I didn't care about. I left it blank, turned it in and walked out. I left my final exam blank! And I got a C! Without a doubt, that teacher should have given me a lower score. I guess I got points for writing my name across the top. Grateful as I was for that C, it plagued my GPA for the rest of my college career. When you are trying to be competitive to apply to medical school, a C feels like an F. But isn't a C "supposed to be average"?

My sister, Maureen, teaches choir at a large high school in Utah. I know she doesn't grade her students based on how well they sing or sound but she does grade them on what matters as far as choirs go. . .attendance. She has had many parents and students call crying, threatening, rabidly mad when they receive anything less than an A. It's choir for goodness sakes! Isn't an A a given? If simply signing up for the class deserves an A, what does she have as an incentive to be at every concert, extra rehearsal or even class?

I know I appreciate good grades more when they are harder to get. Anyone that has taken Chem 353 (organic chemistry lab) with Dr. Hinshaw at BYU knows that only three people in each class get an A. And those people get to wear those A's like a badge of honor. Yeah...I didn't get one of those. But if I had...then I know I'd have appreciated it.:) There are some insanely geeky people at BYU to compete with!

Grade inflation exists outside of institutes of learning. It's everywhere. The other night, I attended the Tim Rice/Elton John musical "Aida." I didn't know anything about it beforehand so took everything in from the storyline, scenery, music and dancing for the first time. I didn't find anything about it outstanding. Some of the songs were catchy, some were annoying, some very "Elton John"y but nothing really stuck in my head or gave me goosebumps like other musicals I've been too (I had goosebumps during the entire show of Wicked...it's that good!). The woman playing Aida was excellent. But her support cast felt very amateurish.

But what happened the minute the curtain closed? About 99% of the audience jumped out of their seats to give the show a standing ovation! Now, they certainly didn't deserve boos or rotten food thrown at them but I've reserved straightening out my knees for something special. I sat there, stubbornly, for a while - refusing to give them an A from me. If this had been a high school production or even college, I would have been the first to stand. Professionals are supposed to be better than what they were, however. What is to motivate the ensemble cast to work on their synchronism for the dances or for Radames to avoid screeching if the world tells them "You are fabulous! Change nothing! It was perfect!" for an average effort? I think standing ovations say those things. I think standing ovations used to mean those things but I don't think they do anymore.

And finally, my current gripe with grade inflation - Ebay. Namely feedback. I've never seen anything less than 98% next to any user ID. The ebay world freaks out if negative feedback is given. I don't understand why though. The positive feedback means nothing if everyone has it. I think I'd still buy from someone if they have a (gasp!) 98.4% rating. Although with a score that low...I probably shouldn't. It's the Ebay equivalent of an F. I recently sold a bunch of stuff and specifically put on all of my auctions that I only accepted paypal and that payment must be received within 48 hours of the auction's close. Three of the winners ignored those instructions. And, yet, I know that I cannot give them negative feedback. I can't even give them neutral feedback. Because then they would give me negative feedback and my perfect score would be blemished and so on and so forth. In reality, shouldn't most people have some negative feedback? If you go in a store, is the salesperson always A+++++++++++++? No. Unless I'm at Rhodda paint where I have never experienced anything less than cheerful help. And we all I know I'm not the best "buyer" in the world. Hello... remember Walmart? But on Ebay, I look like I am. So all of this happy feedback bugs me. It's not real.

In this new global economy where information is easily accessed and competition is supposedly at an all time high, you'd think the population would be more savvy. Savvy...no - but at least we seem to be nice!

Message Received

I love conference. My earliest memories include cousins gathering at our home, the T.V. moved to the living room with its long cable snaked through the hallway. The rule was we had to sit through one session each day. The other session, my cousin and I usually ended up playing Barbie’s in the hallway with the Barbie dream house. It wasn’t a “weekend off” for my parents as I have found in adulthood it is tempting to become. It was a highlight twice a year, a Super Sabbath, if you will. I always knew it was important.

We’d record all of conference on VHS and my grandmother (who lived with us for six years) would watch them over and over. To turn on and off her T.V., the volume button had to be pushed up or down and sometimes, her thumb stayed on the up button a little too long. I recall several instances of coming home to the sound of Thomas B. Monson or Neal A. Maxwell shaking the rooftops. Still, whenever I see a speaker standing at a pulpit with flowers in the background, the background strikingly dark and the slight reflections of the Teleprompters and hear their soothing voices, I think of her and her own love of conference. It was often her choice of viewing as long as Guiding Light wasn’t on.

My freshman year at BYU, I was among the fortunate to sing with the BYU combined choirs during October conference. I will never forget the feelings I experienced being so close to the general authorities, the light and goodness that exudes from their beings and the spirit and joy I felt from many of them as they turned in their seats to listen to us sing. There really isn’t a better place to be!

For the past several years, it seems Satan has been working extra hard on me to miss the inspired words of the apostles at conference time. I can’t remember the exact reasons for each time, but lately it seems that I have been relying more and more on plans to read the talks in May’s Ensign rather than actually listening to conference. I always have the best of intentions but weeks drag on and usually only a handful of talks actually get read. I have been missing out.

Most members of our church are familiar with the phenomenon of hearing a talk that was “written just for me.” I feel particularly blessed that I was in the right place at the right time today and able to hear “my” talk. It was Henry B. Eyring’s talk on complacency.

The funny thing is, I was planning on blogging about it before I even heard the talk. Yesterday, with my neighbors’ girls coming over and finishing some projects around the house, conference got recorded but not watched. This morning as I was able to slow down and really, finally listen, I felt an old familiar spirit and I was struck with how complacent I have been of late. How I’d been merely drifting for the past several months, really not putting much effort into my spiritual growth. I’m the kind that obviously needs a calling to push me spiritually. As much as music lifts the soul and teaches truth, plunking out hymns when the only preparation I’ve done is to turn around on the bench to look at the number up in the placard, is not really helping me progress. My stake calling is at a self-imposed hiatus and without the push that callings give, I have fallen complacent.

There is no great sin. I have no confessions other than I am guilty of taking time off from the gospel. And judging from all of my hysterics lately, I think the Lord might be sending me a message to get back into the game.