Rebecca Pi

New Chapters

2011-11-25T23:16:00.000-08:00

Chapters in many of my favorite books end with cliffhangers.

The police kick down the door and rush in.

She opens the mailbox to find, not the bills she expected, but a note from him!

The pirates tie the blindfold over his eyes and push him onto the plank, as the cabin boy throws off his mask and shouts, "Not so fast!"

End of chapter.

I'm supposed to put down the book and go clean my room.

But in my life, chapters don't end with cliffhangers, they begin with them.

My parents decide we will be moving to Morocco right after my 16th birthday.

The doctors grab my newborn baby and rush out of the room.

My husband calls from jail in tears to ask me to bail him out.

And a new chapter begins.

New chapters often look dire at the beginning. As Louis L'Amour once said, "An adventure is just something you wish wasn't happening to you." And as my mom used to say about the U-Haul motto, An Adventure in Moving, "Who wants their move to be an adventure? I want our moves to be as unadventurous and straight forward as possible!"

This from someone who once bought a mini-van from a mail-order catalog, had it delivered to a dock in Amsterdam, and drove with her husband and 6 kids through Europe to Morocco to set up house.

Very unadventurous. ;)

Today I find myself, once again, at a chapter opening.

I open an innocent-looking email to find a copy of the employment termination notice for my ex-husband.

I have no idea what this new chapter will bring. Pirates and damsels in distress? Or resourceful maids and happy endings?

Let the chapter begin.

Long Time, No Write

2011-10-25T20:04:00.000-07:00

What have I been up to?

I moved. I unpacked. I lost my toaster. I bought a new toaster. I found my old toaster.

I left hundreds of books in Virginia because I didn't have space for everything in one moving van.

I accepted 12 chickens from a neighbor in my new town and watched Peter learn how to care for them, gather eggs, chase them around the yard, and throw his arms around me and tell me his life is complete now that he has chickens.

I looked around my new house and thought how strange it is that my ex won't ever see this house.

I went back to Virginia for a court date on September 15th and was granted a permanent protective order.

I killed a spider the size of Vermont who was living in my bathtub. (I have a large bathtub.)

I figured out what my neighbor meant when she asked if I was putting up. me: "Putting up with what?" Pause. her: Putting up fruit? Light goes on. "Oh! Yes! I bottled apricot juice and peaches with my mom!" I didn't tell her this was the first time in my life I'd "put up" anything, and that my peaches looked pathetic.

I enrolled my children in (GASP!) school. First one. Then another. Then another. I went home, sat at the kitchen table and wondered what on earth I had just done.

I ate so many raspberries that I made myself sick. I didn't know that was possible.

I wrote an entire novel in about a week.

I tried to plan a trip to Yellowstone, but remembered the kids were in school and we couldn't go anywhere.

I watched as Naomi walked out the door in the morning, turned and said with a smile, "I have a backpack, a lunchbox, and a locker. I get to ride the bus and go to science class. I feel like a normal kid!" And I wondered if this made me happy or sad.

I watched baby David while Rachel and Mike went to the temple with Mike's younger brother.

I agreed to paint the set for Cinderella before finding out exactly how big the set is and how soon they want it done. (Holy Cow.)

I took Bethany, along with Elizabeth, to the (brand new!) recording studio at BYU and helped her record a couple of songs for her album. We laughed and figured things out and scrunched in a tiny room and worked for hours and hours 'till our brains hurt.

I discovered that I LOVE (as much as I thought I would!) having a fireplace in my bedroom!

I had Joshua's birthday dinner at my house with All My Kids!

I helped my mom cut out pieces for the (insane!) quilt she's making. It's going to be amazing.

I cried when people asked where my husband is, and what I do. I discovered that a single mom is supposed to work. Not just write novels.

I realized we have deep window sills, so we can put candles in the windows for Christmas and I smiled for a week.

I hosted parties for kids from BYU, kids from school, and anyone else who showed up. We've had bonfires, roasted marshmallows, carved pumpkins, watched movies and had a jolly good time.

I watched the sun set, smelled newly mown alfalfa, picked sunflowers, fed apples from our tree to the horses down the road, watched bees get drunk on apricot nectar, discovered grapes growing on the fence, watched the kids play soccer in the backyard, made bouquets of hollyhocks and snapdragons, gathered eggs, picked pumpkins, and wondered...

Is this really my life?

And I thanked God that things can be so wonderful. =)

The Hunt for the Perfect Location

2011-06-25T07:10:00.000-07:00

I will be moving soon, to an as-yet-undisclosed (and undiscovered) location. What am I hopping for? Perfection. That's it. Not much, really. Only one word. 10 letters. But, perhaps I should be more specific. What is perfection in a living location?

--Low cost of living. Housing, food and gas prices that are at the lower end of the national average, along with a community college that is either free or very close to free for highschool students. (Yes, Virginians, there is free college for highschool students in some states.)

--Nice people. Friendly, well-educated. This presupposes a low crime rate. Criminals may be friendly with each other, but I really don't want my kids hanging out with gang members. Preferably many of these nice people will homeschool their kids and enough of them will be LDS that my kids have a good dating pool to choose from.

--Not Too far from my family members at BYU. This could perhaps be an extension of "Nice People." =) I like my kids, my parents and my siblings. And grandparents are a good thing for children to have around!

--Lots of trees, no billboards. Think of the mama duck (I think it's a duck) on Bambi (I think it's Bambi) who says, "Green's good for the eye!" (Or wait. Was that The Ugly Ducking? Anyway, you get the idea.) Trees make me happy. Billboards make me feel like white trash.

--Fun Stuff to Do. Nearby activities that are kid and family friendly and either free or pretty darn close to free is big on my list. This could include museums (think Smithsonian), hiking, fun parks, lakes and rivers for boating/canoeing, etc.

--Easy Homeschool Laws. Some states make it easy to homeschool your kids. Some seem to have forgotten who gave birth and who didn't. I like Alaska, where, if I understand correctly, the state assumes your child will be homeschooled unless you tell them otherwise. If anyone finds a way to move Alaska a little closer to CONUS, please let me know.

--Really, really good church congregation. One with a good assortment of happy, non-cliquish teens, where home and visiting teaching happen, ward parties are fun because the people like each other, and members are generally thrilled to be with their friends on Sunday and at YM/YW. If they happened to have a Girl's Camp that was comparable to Scout Camp, I might never leave.

I think this pretty well sums it up. Do you happen to know where I am describing? 'Cause if you do, please contact me ASAP! The hunt for the Perfect Location is on!

Yes, but-

2011-06-15T15:00:00.000-07:00

What if I look under the bed

To make sure they are only figments of my imagination

And they leap out

Splitting my ears with their roars

Tearing my face with their claws

Spilling my blood

In pools

On the bedroom carpet

Solid Ground

2011-06-15T14:58:00.000-07:00

I never notice

Stepping onto the shore

After a day on the lake

In my canoe

But after a night on the sea

In hurricane storms

I fall to my knees

Clutch the grass in my hands

Press my face to the dirt

And thank Almighty God

For the blessing

Greater than I could have imagined

Of solid ground

What's Up?

2011-06-14T22:03:00.000-07:00

People have been asking what's up in my life lately, and... well... frankly I don't have time to answer all of them because of what's up in my life lately. So, a quick blog post will have to do.

I turned on my computer tonight and found an email from my attorney that read, "You're divorced!" I stared at it for several minutes wondering if I was going to feel anything. Apparently not. But now you all know.

What else has been going on? I'll see if I can remember. My car has just recovered from a month out of commission during which time my dishwasher and kitchen sink quit working, the court lost my divorce documents, my kids psychiatrist lost his medical license, Bethany had two ear infections, Naomi was uninvited to attend our church's youth group, the bank deposited my money in someone else's account, I got stranded out of town with no way to get home, an animal died somewhere in the garage (or in the walls of the garage), and the garage door fell off.

I'm pretty sure I'm missing several major things, but this is all I can remember right now.

My apologies if I've been behind in emails, phone calls, or neighborly chats. It's not that I don't love you. I just can't remember what I'm doing. Oh yes. And we're moving.

Somewhere.

Else.

Rebecca =/

The Miracle of the Cell Phone

2011-06-06T04:56:00.000-07:00

Something like this past week at our house must have inspired The Series of Unfortunate Events. You know-- that book series about a family who goes through so many horrible things it's completely unbelievable?

But in the midst of broken car parts, a broken dishwasher, wrong car parts, a broken disposal, cracked car parts, a doctor whose license was revoked, mountains of paperwork, missed appointments, and more car troubles... a miracle occurred.

Bethany lost her cell phone and we turned the house upside down and inside out searching for it. I'd offered major rewards for it's recovery (to motivate Peter and Naomi to search- and search they did!) We'd stationed people all over the house, and called and called Bethany's number, even though the ringer was turned off, hoping it might make its self known to us. We'd prayed and prayed to know where to look. But nothing was working. We went through trash cans and old boxes no one had opened for years. It appeared that, along with all the other stress of the week, the phone was gone.

A couple of nights ago Bethany and I were up late. She asked what she was going to do about her phone, and I told her there was not much we could do. I can't afford to get a new one. We'd just have to do without. We both went up to bed feeling depressed.

A moment later Bethany was shouting, "Mom!" in a voice that made my blood run cold. Had she found one of the cats dead on her bed? This would fit with the week far too well. "It's going to be all right!" she sobbed. I opened my door and there was Bethany with her cell phone in her hand.

"You found it?"

"I was praying again, telling Heavenly Father I really need help and asking Him to help me find it. And then I heard it ringing! I went into Joshua's room and there it was, under my drum set, ringing."

N0w let me just say, her ringer was turned off, no one was calling, and the only alarm set on the phone was for several hours earlier. But it rang when she prayed.

We hugged each other and cried. And for some reason, I knew she was right. Everything will be all right.

Recovering from Surgery and some Serious Misconceptions

2011-05-04T07:15:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I stood up and s-t-r-e-t-c-h-e-d! My arms, my legs, and even my ABS! Oh the joy! The sheer elasticity of it all! Oh yes- recovery is good.

It's been a long time coming. Frankly, I didn't believe my doctors when they said, "six weeks for recovery." I mean really. Who takes 6 Weeks! to recover?

Me.

I went into this thinking I'd take no pain meds and be up and running... oh... maybe a week later. I didn't expect to do CrossFit the day after surgery or anything. I'm not stupid. I'd give myself a good 4-5 days to recover.

Then I woke up after surgery.

My first thought: Ow.

My second thought: Oh! Really OW!

My third thought: HOLY COW! Get me some morphine NOW!!!

I slammed the nurse call button and felt myself starting to cry-- which was NOT a good idea. Crying uses abdominal muscles. (A fact I'd never considered before) The more I hurt, the more I started to cry, the more I hurt, the more I cried... The worst (and fastest acting) vicious cycle I've ever been caught in.

The nurse- a short Asian woman- informed me in halting English that she couldn't give me anything more for pain because, "You ah sensitive to pain medicine."

Shocked stare from me. My thoughts: "I'm the one who told you that! And apparently I'm not THAT sensitive, because I am about to DIE from PAIN!"

What I actually did: Stare at the ceiling and try to remember some Lamaze breathing from my ancient past in order to live. Focus. Relax. Breathe.

When I could talk I told her to go get an anesthesiologist. She argued for a moment until I turned my head away from my focal point on the ceiling. We made eye contact and she saw the terror in my eyes. "I go wake him up."

Yes. Good idea.

I came home from the hospital with Tylenol 3 and a renewed appreciation for narcotics. But I still didn't take the whole recovery thing seriously. I mean, how hard could it be?

For the first two weeks my Mom was here and I was able to rest. And rest. And rest. And at the end of those 2 weeks, I was feeling pretty darn good! I was certain I was basically recovered. Isn't it amazing what Moms can do?

When she left, I figured the vacation was over and it was time to get back to real life.

And so I got up, walked around, drove all over town (which is what I do- did you know driving uses your abs?), went tutoring (we DO need the money), and generally refused to rest until my body gave me no choice. Thankfully, several people brought in dinner for us, so after I'd exhausted myself, I could collapse with dinner and not have to stand up to prepare food for my 3 teens. Can I even begin to tell you how wonderful these meals were?

Nope. I can't.

As I am nearing the end of my 6 weeks, I humbly acknowledge my former complete incomprehension of what recovering from major surgery meant. It means Rest. As in, lying down (fixed that grammar mistake for you Mom!), not getting up to answer the phone, let the dog in, or go to see daughter X's amazing Lego creation. It means Saying No to things like tutoring, driving to the grocery store, and taking kids to activities. It means Accepting Help from people who offer it. Even when you are a bit obsessively independent. And it manes accepting My Own Mortality and coming to grips with the fact that sheer will-power can't force damaged cells to regrow any faster. (Darn it all!)

I was asked to speak in church on Sunday. (As in- give the sermon- for those of you who are not LDS) I think people at church are afraid I've gone inactive and am dropping into apostasy. Who misses church for 6 weeks in a row?

People recovering from major abdominal surgery. That's who.

I told them I could do that, as long as I don't have to give a traditional Mother's Day talk. I hate going home from church on Mother's Day feeling depressed because I am apparently the only mother in the world not ready to be taken up to Heaven in a Chariot of Fire. But MOTHERING, as in taking care of people who need help-- THAT I can talk about.

And recovery.

Tattooed Angel

2011-04-25T19:18:00.000-07:00

I was doing it again.

Telling myself I'd fill up the car after one more errand. And then forgetting. Again.

I pulled into the garage and realized I'd have to get gas before I went to get my mom from the airport. There was no way I'd make it there and back. The Out-of-Gas light had been on for almost 2 days.

And then I forgot. Until I was on 95, in the HOV lanes, just about to the Franconia exit, and the car started not responding, the dashboard lights lit up, and I realized I had forgotten one time too many. Dang it!

In case you're not form Northern Virginia, a word about HOV lanes might be in order. These lanes are blocked off with cement barriers-- dedicated lanes with limited access and very limited exits. It's not like you can pull over and be anywhere. Except still stuck in the middle of the freeway.

I began to pray out loud. "Please let me get to a gas station. Please, please, help me get off this road and to a gas station." I looked through the darkness at the exit in front of me. Uphill and around a curve. Both things that require more energy than my car had left. I pictured myself walking up the hill in the dark, talking to my mom on my cell phone as I explained why I was late to pick her up.

Why had I not filled up? And now I was expecting God to bail me out?

Yes, pretty much. At least I was hoping He might.

I prayed harder.

Now, in case you are wondering (and if you know me very well, you are not wondering. you already know) ... this was not the first time I'd run out of gas in my Prius. I'm sorry to say, I was already well-acquainted with what my little car could do on battery power alone. The answer is: Not Much. A few hundred feet if the road was level. No corners. Definitely no hills. Unless we were coasting down them.

I got to the hill saying, "Come on! Please let me make it!" And the car kept going. And going! Right up the hill... and around the corner! The light at the top of the hill changed to yellow and my car actually picked up speed and made it through the light! I couldn't figure it out. I wanted to look behind me to see who was pushing, but I was too busy praying and looking for a gas station.

There wasn't one. I was on Franconia and took the first exit-- downhill-- praying all the way that a gas station might appear in front of me. I had never taken this particular HOV exit before and wasn't sure exactly where it ended. And then suddenly I was at...

the metro stop?

Oh crumb. I knew exactly where I was. And I was pretty darn sure there was no gas station anywhere nearby. "Come on! Keep going! Please help me keep going!"

The car slowed and coasted to a stop just before,but not quite in, a stripped bit of the road where I could safely leave it. I put the car in neutral, opened the door and tried pushing it 50 feet into the safe zone.

Ha. Right. Like I can push a Prius.

I looked up and there was a guy. One guy. With a backpack. Walking up from the metro. I waved and said, "Excuse me? Could you help me push my car into that stripped area?" (technical term)

He pushed and I steered and we got it out of the way of oncoming city busses. I got out to thank him and he said, "Run out of gas?" (Nope. I just like pushing my car around.) "Do you have someone coming to help you?"

Now, I'd ben thinking about this, and I'd already decided I was not calling for help. I was far enough from home that it would take anyone as long to get to me as it would for me to hike to a gas station. Besides, talk about embarrassing. I'm not a damsel in distress. I can handle it. Whatever "it" is.

So I said, "No." And he gave me an Are-You Kidding? look. I shrugged. "I can walk." He pulled his backpack up onto his shoulder and said, "I just live right there," pointing to the apartments across the street. "And I have a gas can. Give me a few minutes. I'll be back." He had a cigarette tucked behind one ear, a knit cap on his head and an impressive array of tattoo artwork across his arms and neck. I considered the situation. "Are you sure?" He nodded. "I promise. I'll be back. Give me 15-- no, better say 20 minutes. I really will be back." I considered the possible things he might be back for, but at the same time felt certain this was fine. He was just a helpful guy with a gas can. Not a rapist. I smiled. "Thank you. That would be really good."

I got back in my car and looked at the time on my phone. 20 minutes. I turned off my lights so the battery wouldn't die and watched busses swerve to avoid hitting me. And I thought. How had I made it here? Up the hill, around the corner, through the light, off the main road, onto a safe bit of ground, right in front of a guy who lives across the street with a gas can.

Wow.

My phone rang and it was my mom. Surprise! Her plane had landed early! I was embarrassed to tell her where I was, but she took it in stride. Perhaps she knows me. I told her a guy had gone to get a gas can. I didn't mention the cigarette or the tattoos. I pulled out my wallet to see how much cash I had. Since my bank account had $0, I figured I'd better be prepared to offer this guy something for his troubles, while making sure I had enough left to get gas to make it home.

At 21 minutes I saw him in my rearview mirror. He was in a car and he pulled up in front of me and jumped out, gas can in hand. "I ran to the gas station and got a couple of gallons." I stared at him for a full 30 seconds before I remembered to say, "Thank you!" and open the gas cap. He poured in the gas while I stood by feeling silly and noticing his tattoos were of Celtic patterns. Not that I'm a fan of tattoos, but if I were...

He finished with the gas and I pulled out my wallet. "How much can I pay you?" "Nothing." I laughed. "No really," I said. "You ran home and to the gas station and bought gas. At least let me pay you for the gas." But he shook his head. "No. It's all right." He gave me directions to the nearest gas station, told me to have a good night, and was gone.

I drove to the gas station and put in a couple more dollars' worth, all the while thinking how he didn't look anything like I'd pictured angels, and wondering about the angels sent to push my car up the hill, around the corner, through the light and right in front of this guy. Do they have tattoos too?

Brave Girl

2011-04-19T11:05:00.000-07:00

Twenty-one years ago today was... Amazing.

I was going into the hospital to be induced, and the night before I'd gone into the baby's room to pick out an outfit- something cute to bring her home in. Except that... I didn't think I was going to be bringing her home. I held up one outfit after another, unable to shake the feeling that had been with me for months. Something was not right. This baby was not going to come home with me in any of the cotton sleepers I was trying to select. I thought of leaving them all home. But what if I was wrong? What would I tell the nurses and doctors if I had nothing for her to wear? I chose something and shoved it in my bag. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe everything would be just fine.

One long night and about 5 hours of labor later, baby Elizabeth was born. She was beautiful and she cried with healthy lungs and I kept saying "Is she all right?" "Is she ok?" over and over as they washed her and dried her and handed her to me.

I held her and looked at her. She was here! She was--

Someone took her from me, saying she was too blue and needed to be suctioned. But it took too long, and suddenly there were people everywhere. Doctors, more doctors, and they were calling for help, and they took my beautiful baby and ran out of the room. All of them. And I lay there on the bed. Alone in the delivery room. And waited. And wondered what was happening.

I reached for the bedside phone and called my mom. I told her the baby was born, but during our call my o.b. came back in the room. He said "Something is wrong with her heart. I think it might be transposition of the great vessels, but I'm not sure. They've called for a helicopter. I'll send someone to get you." And then he was gone. I stared at the door. At the empty room. Hadn't I told him something was wrong with her heart? Hadn't I asked him to check? He'd said everything was fine. That all mothers are nervous about their baby being healthy. I thought of the cotton sleeper in my bag.

My mom and I cried together. And after I hung up I waited. And waited. I finally got up out of bed and made my way into the hall. Down the hall. Holding the wall for support. Because if my baby was going to be flown out on a helicopter, I was going to see her before she left.

A nurse saw me making my way down the hall and gasped, "What are you DOING?!" She grabbed a wheelchair and we went to find Elizabeth.

Elizabeth was in the middle of a room, lying on a flat surface with doctors around her. I watched them work. Our pediatrician was there and said he was putting in an arterial line through her umbilical cord. They'd taken x-rays and said they were pretty sure it was transposition of the great vessels, but they wouldn't know for sure until she got to Primary Children's. I had no idea what they were talking about. A helicopter team arrived and they began loading equipment and getting my tiny newborn ready for her first ride anywhere. I stopped a team member and asked what their training was. He told me. I asked if they would take good care of her and he assured me they would. And then they were gone.

I lay in my hospital bed and cried and tried not to listen to the squeaking of little nursery beds being wheeled down the halls to their mothers. My phone rang and it was a heart surgeon from Primary Children's. She told me it was definitely transposition of the great vessels and that they had to do surgery immediately if there was any chance of saving my baby's life. Would I give her permission over the phone- a verbal signature- for them to do the surgery? She explained that they would go in with a catheter and make a hole in her heart between the right and left sides so a little bit of oxygenated blood could get to her body. That was about all I understood. She was hurrying, wanting me to understand but also wanting to know right away if she could do the surgery. I gave her permission, then repeated the same thing on the phone to two more people, so there were 3 witnesses that I gave permission. They said they would call when the surgery was done. I think it took forever.

The next day I was released from the hospital and Mike drove me directly to Primary Children's Medical Center (PCMC). It was the old PCMC downtown in a crumbling brick building with yellowed walls. I found my baby in a tiny bassinet with a breathing tube and IVs and not a stitch of clothing whatsoever. The nurses explained that they were giving her a medication that made her skin hurt if it was touched- thus the lack of clothing. I reached out a hand to her fingers and was told "no." Even my touch would cause her pain, and that would increase the stress on her heart. I could talk to her, sing to her, sit with her, but not touch her. At all.

The other mothers came over to meet me. The room was not very big and there were tiny bassinets and rocking chairs lining the walls. Someone asked where I lived and I gave them my address. They all stared at me with blank looks. Then one mom said, "Do you mean here? In Salt Lake?" I nodded and they all proceeded to tell me where they were from. Wyoming, Idaho, Arizona, Nevada... I was shocked. "Where do you sleep?" "Here in the rocking chairs." "Don't they have beds for you?" "Only for the most critical patients in the hospital. We're glad they are not for us."

I told the nurse I was amazed at how dark-skinned Elizabeth was. She looked Native American. The nurse said, "She's actually very fair-skinned. It's just that she's blue from lack of oxygen." I stared and stared at my tiny baby, wishing I could feel her fingers wrap around my own.

I went home that night to sleep in my bed and to comfort my little Rachel who wanted to know when her new sister was coming home. And I thought of all those other moms sleeping in their rocking chairs beside their tiny newborns.

The following Monday PCMC was moving to the new hospital up on the mountain beside the U of U Hospital, and Elizabeth was scheduled to be the first patient moved into the new facility. We were waiting for her to be strong enough to live through the open-heart reconstructive surgery she needed. We'd been told she might be ready when she was about a week old. But she was still not breathing on her own, a sign that she was too weak for the major surgery. I signed release papers for her to be photographed for newspapers as the first patient in the new hospital and prayed for her to take a breath on her own.

On Sunday morning we went to see Elizabeth before church and-- the breathing tube was gone! The doctors said she had begun breathing on her own that morning, taking breaths when the machine was not pumping air into her lungs. I could hardly believe it. I still could not touch her, but I felt like my spirit was holding her, hugging her to me, cheering for her little tiny breaths.

When we walked into church, a 12 year old girl named Angela came to talk to me. "How is Elizabeth doing?" I told her the amazing news that she was breathing on her own! Angela smiled and said, "I knew she would get better today. I'm fasting for her today." I cried.

Surgery was scheduled for Elizabeth's 7th day of life. We were there early in the morning, waiting for them to come take her to the ER. And waiting. And waiting. And finally a doctor came and said they could not do the surgery because there was a problem with the air conditioning system in the brand new OR. I couldn't believe they would postpone a baby's surgery because of something as trivial as air conditioning, and said so.

It was then that I got a full understanding of exactly what they were going to do to my daughter. In order to rebuild her heart, they had to put her on bypass, meaning the blood would bypass her heart and be pumped by an artificial pump during surgery. But, the tiny capillaries that feed the heart's main vessels can not be sewn back together if blood is flowing at all. So for part of the surgery, they would turn the bypass off and let Elizabeth "die," no blood being pumped through her tiny body at all, so they could see what they were doing. In order to be able to revive her after this, they would need the room to be very cold, and her body would be packed in ice for the surgery.

Oh.

They flew in engineers from Minnesota to fix the cooling system of the OR. But if they didn't have it fixed in 2 days, the doctors said they would fly Elizabeth to Boston, to the place this brand-new surgery had first been performed just a few years earlier.

Two days later, on Friday morning, the air conditioning was fixed and Elizabeth had her seven-hour open heart surgery. That night the hospital staff offered me one of the beds for parents in the hospital.

She was in the post-op ICU. A tiny person nearly lost in the dizzying wall of tubes and monitors and wires. She had several nurses dedicated only to her. The surgeon had videos of her monitors linked to his house so he could go home and still see how she was doing. There was an area the size of a large room filled with equipment connected to her tiny self.

A nurse from another patient walked by and looked at her. "Is this Doctor X's arterial switch?" Someone said yes. The nurse looked at Elizabeth for a moment and then said, "Huh. He's getting better at his switches."

(I am so ashamed that I cannot remember her surgeon's name. Sometimes I can. Right now it's not coming to me.)

Two weeks later Elizabeth came home for the first time. She was only home for a day before she had to go back in for heart failure, but she came home again for a bit longer, and then for a bit longer, until she was off oxygen, recovered from heart failure and doing well. She managed to stay home a whole month- from 3 months old to 4 months old- and we decided it was all right to leave her for about an hour with a babysitter- a girl we trusted from church. When we got home the babysitter had shaken her and dropped her on the kitchen floor and that evening Elizabeth had brain surgery because of hemorrhaging. We were told she would probably never learn to read or write and that she may never learn to speak.

********** ********** ********** ********** **********

They were wrong. Elizabeth laughed and talked at early ages. She was not behind in anything. I came out of the bathroom one day to find she'd completed a 30 piece puzzle on the floor while I was in the shower. She was not quite 3 at the time. She loved books and learned to read early. Sometimes I found myself wondering what she would have been like without the brain surgery! But most of all, Elizabeth was kind. She loved everyone and had the tender heart of a peacemaker.

She was also afraid of some things. Like worms-- gummy or real-- and slippery slides. Yet she had a bravado about her little blond, pig-tailed self that was wonderful to see. I brought home gummy worms for the girls one day and Rachel ate hers and asked she could eat Elizabeth's. Elizabeth was sitting at the table on eye-level with the worms. "No," she said. "I'm going to eat them. Just not yet." I smiled and went to fold laundry. I came back almost an our later and there was Elizabeth, still eye-level with the worms. She finally let Rachel eat them.

Elizabeth would sit at the top of slippery slides for forever, staring down the slide as the kids behind her shouted, "Hurry up!" It was after one of these playground days that she told me, "You don't have to call me Elizabeth any more. You can just call me Brave Girl."

And she WAS brave! She overcame her fear of worms and slippery slides. She became Rachel's protector, going with her to ask for more napkins at McDonald's, going before Rachel into the dark bedroom, making Rachel's phone calls when Rachel was too shy, and all-around proving she was Brave Girl.

When she was four, she was back in the hospital with Cat Scratch Fever. We didn't know what she had- it took weeks to figure it out- and we were living in Saudi Arabia at the time. The CDC flew a doctor to Utah to examine Elizabeth, since everyone was afraid she might have brought some strange, new disease into the US. I was pregnant with Bethany at the time and kept crying about everything.

Elizabeth's IV blew in her arm and they moved it to her left had- a much more sensitive spot. She smiled after the IV was in and said, "The good thing about having my IV in my left hand is, I can still color!" The next day, on her way to some testing, her nurse accidentally ran over her IV with the wheelchair and pulled it out. They took her back to her room and put the IV in her right hand. Elizabeth stared at her crayons as they put in the IV. After it was in, Elizabeth looked at it for a moment. Then she said, "The good thing about having my IV in my right hand is... I don't have to taste the yucky medicine!" I burst into tears just as the doctor flown in from the CDC walked into the room to meet us. After several attempts to talk to me, during which time I kept catching my breath, only to begin sobbing again, he finally said, "Why don't I come back at a better time."

When he was gone, Elizabeth comforted me.

She grew tall and graceful and even more kind. Her medical trials continued. As she said one day a couple of years ago, "I must have signed up for the Medical Adventure Life." She played with her doll house and asked if we could get a wheel chair for the doll family. She turned their shed into the hospital and the doll children spent a lot of time having surgery and visiting the cardiologist. Elizabeth said she wanted to be a cardiologist or surgeon when she grew up.

And she told stories. Laugh-out-loud, side splitting stories, touching stories, silly stories, and thoughtful stories. On the way home from the dentist one day she told us, Bill Cosby-style, The Truth About the Dentist. I laughed so hard I had to pull over on the side of the road. When she got older, she began writing her stories down.

And she drew pictures. Amazing, pictures. I wish that I had framed several of them. She shows people in relationships in her pictures, often with rain. Her skill with a pencil or paintbrush is as great as her skill with words.

And now she is twenty-one! Brave Girl, lovely as Cinderella, a dreamer making her dreams come true, an incredibly hard worker, creative in everything she does, with a heart as kind as anyone who has ever walked the earth. I still wonder, as I did so many times when she was little, how I could be the mother of someone as amazing as she is.

Happy Birthday Elizabeth. I love you.

What Runs 'Round in my Head

2011-03-29T21:25:00.000-07:00

Surgery is rescheduled for April 4^th. Did I mention that already?

Naomi and Bethany are downstairs watching “Flipped” while Peter is upstairs practicing the violin and crying because he’s not watching the movie. Am I just mean? I don’t feel sorry for him. Am I supposed to? Instead of doing his school list today, while I was at the doctor he was on the phone-- for almost an hour. Peter is grounded from the phone. And has been for several weeks.

What is happening to my life? I feel like I’m falling into a black hole, things are getting weirder and weirder, the world is turning upside down, and all the while, I’m too dazed to do anything but tumble downward, heels over head, with a vague feeling that I might be about to crash into a nasty ending, or become spaghettified. And then I wander off to look for toenail clippers and wonder if there is anything for dinner, and if we really have to eat, or if we might just all float away.

Will I be stuck here forever?

I used to think there was a happy ending coming up- any moment now. Prince Charming was about to carry me off to his castle in the sky. Or at least in southern France. His staff would clean the bathrooms. My children would attend private schools with programs that would make Bethany smile, Naomi recover from kleptomania, and Peter become the charming young man he was meant to be. Prince Charming’s money would pay for it all. And I would wear cotton dresses and entertain guests in the gazebo out back after a day of horseback riding along the beach with my husband. At night we would lie in bed and hold each other and it would be amazing because we were so in love. On holidays we would take little trips to Turkey and the Maldives.

I’m afraid that’s not happened. Frozen pizzas and moldy caulking have been my lot. And I don’t see an end in sight. I’m beginning to feel as if I’m waking form a dream of published novels and cute little houses (let alone southern France) and seeing that if I don’t get a real job, we are going to starve. I’ve dropped all the kids’ classes. No more music, dance or online history classes. I don’t even usually check their schoolwork. We are dangerously close to unschooling. I find myself thinking that a day on the computer with a guitar playing Taylor Swift songs might pass as a good education. What will become of these kids? I started homeschooling because I thought public school was a joke. My kids needed something more rigorous. Now I’m happy if they put in a good half hour with a workbook.

But what is the alternative? Traditional life? We all leave in the morning and come home exhausted at night to eat our frozen pizza, take a shower with the moldy caulking and drop into bed exhausted, just to get up with a buzzer and do it all again? I believe I would lose the particle of sanity I have managed to hide away under my bed. And covered in dog hair though it is, I don’t want to lose it.

I dream of running away to Europe and living out of a suitcase as we travel from place to place. No mortgage payment. But also no solitude. When would I be alone? How could I ever write anything? Then I imagine a lighthouse on the shore where we pick blueberries and the kids climb about on the beach while I write. Notice the lack of school in these fantasies. Notice the lack of dinner and laundry and reality. I am still a dreamer, wandering down the road, late, but unaware of clocks and mundane things like money. The clouds are lovely. And perhaps those pink blossoms could fall, spinning, like rain or stars, and light my path, carpet my world. I hear water running and remember the kitchen ceiling leaks if water falls on the kids’ bathroom floor. Not only do I not know how to fix it, I do not have time nor money to fix it, and I don’t even want to fix it. There is something romantic about having to put a pot on the kitchen counter every time someone showers. Eventually the ceiling will rot and fall into a pot of tomato soup. But perhaps by then I will have moved out.

Reality. If I pretend it is not real, perhaps it will go away.

And then we’re back to the dreams of Prince Charming, southern France, touring Europe and lighthouses in Maine. And the reality that depending on how the divorce settlement goes, I might be right here—leaky ceiling and all—for the rest of my life.

I’ve got to take matters into my own hands. I’m going to go order church magazines. One tiny step for reading material. One giant leap in the right direction.

(sigh) at least I hope it is.

Surgery. Or not.

2011-03-15T19:50:00.000-07:00

Have you ever noticed how sometimes things don't go as planned?

I got to Potomac Hospital at 6 am and changed into a cute little dress with ties at the back, a pair of leg-strangling tights with holes on the soles (for what?) and totally stylish blue paper slippers. A nurse made four (4!) attempts at getting the IV in my arm, and finally got blood to flow freely. Others poked and prodded and took blood and hooked up monitors.

And then the anesthesiologist came in. He's probably a reasonably intelligent guy. After all, he did make it through medical school. But we were having a communication problem. Somehow the message that my doctor had already checked with Potomac's anesthesiology department about my issues with medications, and that there was "No Problem," did not get passed along to this guy. Or maybe he wasn't listening when they told him. I'm betting on the "Not listening" option, since that's what he did with me. I tried explaining my history, and he repeated a garbled version back to me. I tried correcting him and he interrupted. Eventually he summed up his understanding. "You want me not to give you anything, but you still want to be unconscious for the surgery." No! I told him that was not it at all! I just need smaller doses. A lot smaller. And there are a few things I can't have at all. But only a few. Not most.

He left and I hoped he was Googling what to do with me. If he'd brought me a computer, I could have shown him. When he returned he announced he had a solution. He would do an epidural. I blinked and said, "There is something else you should know. I have really bad scoliosis." He told me to bend forward so he could see my back as I explained that I have four curves, that I don't know the degree of any of them anymore, but that they're not single digits. He ran his finger along my spine and exclaimed. Then he left the room again.

He did not come back.

It was my doctor came in and said, "The anesthesiologist is saying we have to cancel your surgery. He won't sedate you. I can't sedate you. I can't make him sedate you. And I can't operate with you awake."

I had seen it coming. I asked if I could talk to my mom for a minute. The doctor said yes, and left my mom and I alone.

Now, let me explain something. Yesterday (was it really only one day ago?) I got a call in the morning from my doctor's nurse asking if I'd heard that my surgery was canceled. I hit the roof of my car and proceeded to tell her that not only did I not know that, but my mom was about to board a plane in Salt Lake to be here for the surgery. She said she'd ask the doctor to call me. I didn't wait for the call. I hit the gas and tried not to run any red lights as I called my mom and told her not to get on the plane while driving to my doctor's office, where I demanded to see the doctor RIGHT NOW!

She came in and explained that she'd misread my ultrasound and could not do the surgery she'd explained to me, and did not want to switch procedures without checking with me, had not pulled my chart to remember who I was or what the situation was, and simply told the nurse to reschedule so we could have a chance to "chat." But, since I had conveniently shown up in her office, (!!!) we could go ahead on Tuesday, as long as I was ok with a different procedure. She was very apologetic, and I agreed that the surgery needed to be done. I called my mom, told her to go ahead and get on the plane, and breathed a huge sigh of relief. Big mess fixed. Or so I thought.

Now, I looked at my mom. "What can we do? You came all the way out here." She pointed out that there was nothing we could do about that now. And really, if the guy has no idea what to do with me, it's better for him to admit it now, rather than when I'm dead.

I called my doctor back in and said the only thing I could. "Ok. I'll go home."

She said I should "probably go to a major medical center, where they... um... I don't want to say they know more. But they might... umm... well, be better prepared to handle..."

I just nodded. Right.

So, now I'm home. And my mom is here for two weeks. Tomorrow I'm picking up the records of whatever it was that happened today. It should be interesting to read the official version. "Psycho woman tried to convince me to let her into the OR without any anesthesia." Whatever. I'll take them with me when I go to meet with anesthesiologists at other hospitals in the area, on my quest to find someone who knows how to knock me out so my internal organs can be removed.

Ok. Maybe the psycho part isn't too far off.

But at least I get to have my mom here! And if I'm not on bed rest for the whole time, maybe we can go do something fun together. =)

Ugh! Templates!

2010-11-30T13:37:00.000-08:00

So, just a quick rant. I am not a computer programmer, but neither am I completely technically challenged. That said, I am having serious difficulties with my blog templates.

Cutest Blog on the Block is where I usually get my templates, but a few months back this stopped working. I didn't have time to struggle with it, so I went with a boring and generic template from blogger.com.

Today, however, I took some time to try to get this worked out, since I really do want a cute Christmas background.

AND

NOT

WORKING!

Ugh. Anyone have any ideas?

On Getting Divorced

2010-11-30T12:35:00.000-08:00

It has been quite a while since I have posted here, not because nothing has happened, or because I don't have time to write, or because I don't want to share my thoughts. Actually, tons of things have been going on, I write for several hours most days, and I would love to share my thoughts.

But I censor myself. All the time. In everything. For example:

I filed for divorce last month. This was a major life event (clearly)- along the magnitude of marriage, a birth or death in the family. But what would I say on a blog, where the whole world can read it, that would not offend or hurt someone, somewhere? I mean- someone I know personally and care about. (I realize people in China that I don't know- I'm not referring here to the people in China I care about very much- read my blog, (I'm not sure why, but they are welcome) and if I offend them with my thoughts on marriage and divorce, well, life goes on.) But how about my family? My in-laws? My kids?

And so I am silent. As I have been on many subjects. For many years. As I write this I hear Taylor Swift in the back of my mind saying, "Speak Now!" Yes, well. She's not getting divorced, is she? If she ever does, I expect she will make millions selling albums about it. And I will buy them and sing along with her and cry.

So, what have I been doing? Thinking? Not talking about?

I've been wondering how to settle a divorce. What do I ask for? What do I accept is just not going to happen? What is worth fighting for- if anything- and what is not? Do I have to have an attorney with me along the way? Or can we work this out ourselves in a way that won't hurt me and the kids in the long run, and bring the attorneys in to sign everything off at the end?

I've been trying to come to grips with life as a single mother. Some things I expected as part of this package deal- like doing the laundry myself. (Mike used to wash and dry the clothes.) And some things I've been surprised by- like the hollow feeling I get when I fill out a form and the "Father" information side stays blank. Or the way people look at my left hand, and then at my kids, and give me a look that says they have misjudged my entire life in 15 seconds and placed me into a box where I don't belong.

Or, where I hope I don't belong.

I have been cleaning out the house. Getting ready for the inevitable move that has to come some time. Throwing away some of the junk we accumulate by living in the same house for 8 years. When we moved here, it was the 21st house we had lived in, and we had been married 18 years. (Counting every place we lived for 3 months or longer) It's amazing how much junk we can hold onto when we are not forced to clear it out. Do you know I still had baby socks in the sock bucket? And my youngest turns 13 next week!

I have been looking at families. Watching husbands and wives interact. Comparing and measuring myself against them. Did I speak that kindly to my husband when he was here? Am I gentle like that with my children? Where do I need to improve? What will my kids remember when they are my age? And I've been keeping a careful mental thermometer on my kids, watching for signs of distress in the midst of their lives being turned upside down. Ready as I can be with the emotional Tylenol and hugs. Hoping I can do this all myself.

I have spent a lot of time thinking. A bit of time crying. Much time in prayer. Several hours in the car with my kids and heavy doses of Taylor Swift. Not as much time as I should spend cleaning the house. A few hours a day writing- usually my endless YA novel, but occasionally something else sneaks in. At least a few hours each month in the temple. A sprinkling of moments, like sugar dusted on cake, visiting with friends in person or via email. And moments here and there staring at the sky and wondering how life got so wonderful. And complicated. And painful. And perfect. All at the same time.

And being surprised that I can feel peace and happiness these days.

That's what I have been up to. How about you?

Extreme Multitasking!

2010-09-26T20:43:00.000-07:00

When I was in Morocco in highschool I thought I had multitasking down. I could curl my hair with one hand while tying my shoe with the other, and pause to spray a cockroach with hairspray, all while singing along with my cassette. Yes. It kills them. The hairspray.

And when my kids were little, I could fix dinner while listening to a rambling story from a three year old ("Let me tell you about when I was 26!"), watch the child at the table do her homework, and write a grocery list all at the same time.

Then came the mom-of-teens, homeschooling years. (I'm still in this stage.) And I found this was a skill that could be taken to new levels. Teach them to drive while taking someone to dance, while texting the daughter at home to see if dinner is in the oven, while making sure junior in the back seat is doing his math.

And then... throw in being a single mom! And what do you get? Extreme Multitasking! The all new, high thrill sport for moms with negative time!

Consider Saturday.

Plans had already been derailed by 9 am when I realized Bethany had to see a doctor asap for her asthma. The pediatrician's phone was totally not working- so plan A (call for a refill of her inhaler Rx) was not going to work. We put plan B into effect: Insta Care place. Should be quick. All we need is a script for an inhaler.

After over an hour sitting in the room waiting for the doctor and listening to my daughter wheeze, I stick my head in the hall to find the doctor lounging with the nurse, going through an iHop menu. But I digress. My point is not about doctors and nurses and iHop-- although that could be a subject for another post. The point is, we missed the violin group lesson we were supposed to be to, and by that afternoon I realized the inhaler was not going to be enough. She needed a trip to the ER for nebulizer meds and steroids.

I figured all this out about 1 pm as I was putting dinner in the oven. (New meal plan! More on this later.) And at 2 pm I was supposed to be meeting for the first time with the girl I will be tutoring this year. First impressions being what they are, I didn't want to start off the year with, "Umm... I'll be a little late. Or, actually, probably very late. Depending on the doctors at the ER. And the iHop menu." But I also didn't want to leave Bethany home, unable to breathe. "Just call 911, sweetie, if you get any worse. Or text me. I should be home soon."

My plan? Throw all three kids in the car, call the tutoring family while driving to their house and ask if I can stop by a little early (a better first impression than being several hours late), then call a friend to see if the younger two can hang out with her while we're at the ER. Drop the kids off at the friend's house after the tutoring meeting, then hit the ER.

I tell kids to get on shoes and grab books to read while dialing my friend. I get her answering machine and start leaving a message, wondering if she's home but couldn't find the phone. Where could she be? Then, mid-sentence- I remember. She's gone for the day and asked me to take her dogs out around lunch time or 1 o'clock! I sputter something about having a good day and hang up, then run upstairs and grab the DS games. Apparently the kids are all going to the ER. Whoopie!

In the car, I call the tutoring family, who sounds a bit confused but says, "Umm, sure. I guess now would be fine." Thank heavens.

I park 5 houses down in the only spot of shade on the street and leave the key with Bethany and instructions to turn on the AC if it gets too hot. She's wheezing, but nods. I sprint past 5 houses and tell the grandma watering her roses, who looks like she's expecting me to stop and talk, that I'm just borrowing her neighbor's shade, and that her tiny white dog with a pink bow in its hair is cute.

The tutoring family is great. Nice daughter. Nice mom. Really nice house. 15 minutes later I'm back out the door, past Grandma, the roses, and Poopsie, and in the car. Bethany's eyes are closed. I peal out of there, heading to my friend's to take out the dogs before the ER.

But... As I'm driving up Cardinal I suddenly see my oven in my mind. And the casserole I'd put in the oven just before realizing Bethany needed to go to the ER. Ack!

I drive home, watching for police in my rear-view mirror, run inside and grab the casserole out of the over. It was only slightly more brown than was intended. I set it on the counter and stared at it. Do my kids actually need to eat?

This is where I explain our new meal plan. We eat our big meal-- the all-together-dinner-type thing-- around 3 or 4 pm. This makes sense for lots of reasons, not the least of which is because that's the only time we're all home. Then we have cookies and milk or microwave popcorn or a quick frozen pizza around 9 pm when we're hungry again. It works for us. At least that's the theory. I just started it on Saturday.

So, I'm staring at the casserole. Chicken and broccoli. I run through all the possible scenarios in my mind, and decide the best plan is to just take it with us.

So I grab a couple of dish towels to put it on, pick up the Costco-sized bag of paper plates (no time to count them out), grap a handful of plastic forks and one plastic spoon, and run back to the kids waiting in the car.

"What are you doing?"

"Bringing dinner. Why?"

"Do you expect us to walk into the ER with a casserole?"

"Don't be silly. We're going to eat it while taking out our friend's dogs."

"If there is any left over, can I bring it to the hospital? I'll eat quietly."

We let the dogs out while eating our casserole on paper plates in our friend's house while Bethany lay on their couch and wheezed and I calculated how much I'd make from tutoring and called back the electrician about the lights in the front room while watching out the window to see if the dogs had done their thing yet. The plastic spoon made a decent serving spoon, and the tiny size kept our portions small. I made a mental note to try this at home for myself as I told Peter to refill the dogs' water dish, told Naomi to call the dogs inside, and I checked to make sure Bethany was still breathing.

And I thought about the fact that, although I really miss my calling in the stake Relief Society, I was glad I was not one of the people in charge of the reception that evening.

This is my life. Not too unusual. For our house, anyway.

When Bethany was well-medicated, the casserole was gone, and the kids were back home with instructions to practice the violin songs they'd missed at the group lesson that morning, I put on a skirt and went to the reception. I arrived just as it was ending and wondered if my hair was still sticking out in back like Bethany had said it was in the ER. Probably so.

My friends smiled and said, "How are you?"

And I smiled and said, "Fine. Kind of a crazy day."

And they nodded. "I know what you mean."

And I wondered if they really did.

The Story of Carly

2010-09-20T04:42:00.000-07:00

My cat is curled up beside me, resting her tiny chin on my foot. Her eyes are closed and her breathing is in slow little breaths. At moments like this, even if my computer is about to die because it's not plugged in, or I am so desperate to go to the bathroom that I'm squirming, or the pizza is burning in the oven, I look at her and think, "But I don't want to disturb her!"

I know people get carried away with their pets. Dogs getting manicures and cats with an entire wing of the house to themselves seem a bit much when we are not the ones in love.

This particular cat came to us in an unusual way. We drove to church one Sunday morning in April, and after services, we drove home again. When we got out of the car, my family members said, "What is that noise in the engine?" I groaned. Car trouble. Great. I informed them that I did not even want to know about it and went inside to change out of my dress. A moment later one of my kids was banging on my bedroom door shouting, "Mom! You've got to come see! It's a cat!" My eyes flew to the bedroom door. Oh, this is going to be a mess, I thought. A cat got stuck in our engine? And the kids are down there to see it? I steeled myself, prepared to be the brave mother who holds her traumatized children as they weep over dismembered kitty parts.

But when I got downstairs, there was my husband, leaning into the greasy car engine in his white church shirt, saying, "It's all right, kitty kitty." This is the same man who had claimed for years not to like cats. Until he rescued our grey cat, Brigitta, who had been hit by a car, and spent thousands of dollars to have her restored to health. His story that he couldn't stand cats began to unravel after that. And now he coaxed a tiny, tiny kitten out of the engine of our car, where she had been sitting in one of the few places where she could have lived on the five mile ride home. I breathed a sigh of relief. She was all in one piece.

And she was tiny! I mean, even for a kitten. She fit in the palm of a child's hand and mewed so pitifully that we were all making little squeaky sounds back at her out of sympathy. Someone got some milk and someone else got a few bits of cat food. The kitten tried to eat a piece of the food, but she was so small that it was like watching a two-year-old try to fit a whole Five Guys hamburger in their mouth and then chew. I did some quick emotional calculations and realized there was no way this kitten was going anywhere. Darn it all.

We already had two cats and a dog, and though I was feeling animal overload, I felt like we were still within the "normal" limits of animal ownership. But THREE cats? That's getting a bit fanatic. And yet, look at her! they all exclaimed. She fit in a tea cup. I know, because they put her in one and took pictures. Rachel carried her in the pocket of her bathrobe, where the kitten slept with her head just poking out, resting on the lip of the pocket. And Bethany claimed ownership, bringing the kitten to sleep on her bed with her. How could I say, after she lived through a ride home in our engine and had been fed milk with an eye dropper and slept on Rachel's pocket, "Nah. Take her back to the field beside the church. Or drop her off at the shelter." So, we acquired a third cat. We named her Carly, since she was found in the engine of the car.

Something about being raised by people made Carly into a different beast. She is fine with having people maul her. Her paws, which most cats will not let anyone touch, are so soft, and she just lays in our arms like a baby and closes her eyes as we stroke them. She talks to us, mewing and making little sounds in her throat to communicate things like, "Milk would be good! It's right in this fridge!" and if she gets stuck in the garage overnight or shut in the bathroom for too long, she tells us all about it when she gets out, talking and talking and asking to be held and comforted after her traumatic ordeal. She loves our dog, Heidi, and rolls all over Heidi's muzzle and licks Heidi's face until the dog can stand no more and gets up to walk away. And anytime we're gathered as a family, Carly comes to join us. She is there for scripture reading, bedtime stories, songs and prayers, and any other time we are all together, curled up beside us with her eyes closed, looking like the world is a good place.

She is still small for a full-grown cat, although it's been a few years since we found her. And Bethany still hauls her around, snuggling her and exclaiming, "She is so CUTE!" when she find sher asleep somewhere. Right now, Carly is curled beside my feet, looking like she is sound asleep-- until I lean over to look at her more closely. Then her ears turn toward me and I know she's just resting, apparently enjoying my company as much as I enjoy hers.

Wild Hat in the LoC

2010-08-26T14:37:00.000-07:00

A while ago I was in the Library of Congress and noticed- I could hardly not notice- a woman's hat. It was sprouting flowers and sparkly things and feathers in the brightest colors, and was so completely out of place sitting on top of the short, dumpy woman in the calico house dress. I stared at her on the steps, couldn't take my eyes off her in the upstairs hall, and was surprised by her again in the special display on Native Americans. I began to think I should say something, since she must have noticed me staring. But, what?

I went to use the restroom, and when I came out of the stall, there she was, horrific hat and all, washing her hands. I decided I would speak to her. I couldn't say I liked her hat- that would be too blatant a lie. I decided on, "Your hat is so interesting!" Which was very, very true. But, as I opened my mouth to speak...

She bent over and pulled from her bra two large, hard-back books! My jaw hit the sink and I stared at her. How was that possible? She rearranged herself, tucked the books back in, and walked out of the bathroom, all while I stared, the hat all but forgotten.

I saw her again, as I was leaving the library. She was going through security just before me. She opened her bag and the security officer poked his stick around looking for stolen books, nodded his approval, and she walked out the door, wild hat, books in her bra, and all. I wanted to say, "Um, sir? I think there is somewhere else you should check!" But I didn't.

I ask. What would you do?

Dizzy

2010-08-21T18:01:00.000-07:00

My toes

Turning on the grass

My dress

Rippling, floating

My arms

Stretching out, palms up

My hair

Flying in the wind

I look toward

My fingers

Reaching toward the sky

Where the birds fly

Into the clouds that spin

Against the blueness that blurs

And the stars that shine

And the night that falls

Like moonbeams

Onto my skin

As I tumble

Into the grass

That might be the sky

And try to remember

Which way is up

Taylor Swift, Dr. Laura and My Life

2010-07-12T16:02:00.000-07:00

I went to the Taylor Swift concert with Bethany last month and had a ton of fun! We jumped up and down and sang all the songs along with Taylor Swift, and bought concert t-shirts, and went home totally exhausted and happy. We brought several friends with us, and Josh took a date- but didn't get to sit by us because we had tickets in different sections. All in all, a great evening!

While I was there, I was looking around at the other concert-goers and was amazed at the ages represented. There were 2-year-olds in cowboy boots and sun dresses with their moms. There were teens and pre-teens, and college students, and 40-somethings, and even a few boys! (One was wearing a t-shirt that said, "Because my girlfriend loves her!" Haha! Understood.) I

wondered, as I looked around, what it was that made so many girls, of so many ages, love taylor Swift.

And here's what I've concluded.

First: She's just SO good! Her songs are well written, fun to sing along with, and they cover the gamut, from "Today was a Fairy Tale" to "I'm not a princess... This ain't a fairy tale." From "You're just another picture to burn!" to "Can he tell that I can't breathe?" If you have a boyfriend, used to have a boyfriend, wish you had a boyfriend, or might one day grow up to have a boy friend, she has written a song about where you are. And if your ex-boyfriend (or husband) was a jerk-- well! She has a whole album for you. =)

Which brings me to point #2: She encourages girls to be girls-- and to expect boys to treat them like princesses. She curls her hair, wears cute dresses, loves sparkly things, and announces from stage to sold-out audiences everywhere that boys "Shouldn't do bad things!" and that if they do bad things to her, they can expect to be written up. In a song, that is.

She showed a mock interview in which a middle-aged woman quizzed Taylor about the way Taylor treated her ex-boyfriends. The woman said she was concerned. "If you are naming the guys you dated in your songs, why would any guy want to date you?"

Taylor said, "Well...If guys don't want me to write bad songs about them... they shouldn't do bad things!" The stage lights went out and words began scribbling themselves all over the set saying, "They shouldn't do bad things. They shouldn't do bad things. They shouldn't..." The crowd- of almost entirely women and girls, remember- went wild! I wish I'd thought to look around and see what the few men were doing. I'd love to know. Did they jump up and down and scream, "WooHoo!"? Or were they looking at their shoes wondering how they'd gotten themselves into this situation? (Not you, Josh. I don't think you were looking at your shoes.)

I know what I was thinking. After Screaming and thinking, "YES!" and wiping my eyes, I thought, "Dr. Laura would like this girl!"

An odd thing to think in the middle of a Taylor Swift concert? Maybe. But maybe not.

I've been reading 10 Stupid things Women Do To Mess Up Their Lives, by Dr. Laura Schlessinger, and thinking a lot about it. Yes, she can be offensive on the radio, and no I don't listen to her regularly. I don't listen to the radio at all, actually. But I have heard her from time to time, and I agree with what you're thinking. She should get some tact. But I also agree with what she's thinking. And saying. Almost 100% of the time.

She has several points in the book- but many of them can be summed up in this statement: Girls, get a life!

She believes that if girls (or women) set goals for themselves and work toward achieving them, they will see that they are actually, in Taylor Swifts words, princesses. And that they deserve to be treated as such. Then they will stand up to the men in their lives and insist that they "shouldn't do bad things!" She suggests that, instead of waiting to be chosen by a boy, girls go out and do the choosing themselves. What a novel concept!

I thought a lot about this. From the time girls are small we are told to wait for boys to choose us. The very fact that Sadie Hawkins dances exist, and that they announce "This next song is girl's choice" means that the rest of the time we are supposed to stand on the side and hope we are-- what? Cute enough? Smiling at the right moment? Dressed right? So that a boy will choose us. We are not supposed to ask the guy out on a date. Or even call him! That would be too forward. And have you ever heard of a girl proposing to a guy? I haven't. And I bet if you have it stuck out in your memory because of how totally unusual it is!

What does all of this say about girls? To be honest, I don't have the answer to that. But I do know that I like the idea of girls being someone they, themselves, can feel good about, so that they are choosing, at the very least, to say Yes to the princes out there and No to the jerks. and when they kiss the prince and discover he is, in fact a frog, they can dump him back in the swamp, wipe off their mouths, and say, "Yuck! He shouldn't have done those bad things!" And walk away. Instead of moving into the swamp with the frog.

Rebecca =)

who recommends Graceling by Kristin Cashore

Awake!

2010-02-18T22:49:00.000-08:00

You'd think, after almost no sleep for a couple of days, and driving for 12 hours straight today, that I would be exhausted enough to sleep. But no.

I lie awake in the dark hotel room, alternately closing my eyes and staring at the patterns of light made by the gaps in the curtains and wondering why my brain won't shut off.

And then thinking, of course my brain won't shut off. Did I really wonder that? What a stupid question. (sigh) It's 12:13 am.

I turn over and try laying on the other side.

and then turn back over.

and then stare at the ceiling some more.

and then go to the bathroom, just for something to do.

and then lay down and close my eyes again.

and then open my eyes. The patterns of light have not changed. It's 1:26 am.

Perhaps while driving all day, my brain has to keep alert about traffic and road conditions, and listen to the kids, and think about exits, and listen to the book on CD (Fablehaven, today) and try to stay awake, and perhaps with all that it does not have time to sort through all the other things going on in my life, and so, when I lay down in a dark hotel room, and there is... nothing... it can finally begin to sort through real life.

We have a court date next week. And another next month. And What if Mike looses his job? Where will our pets live? Where will we live? Scenes from the past replay over and over in my mind. a phrase here. a snippet there. What did that mean? What will we do? I try to tell my brian to do Yoga Nidra, but it keeps wandering to everything else. I bring it back to focusing on the left side of my mouth, (yes, it's a little weird, but it usually works!) and then realize I've drifted back into life.

Finally, I get up, undo the velcro on my laptop bag (very loud in a silent, dark hotel room with 4 kids asleep), tell Bethany to lie back down, and go sit in the bathroom, on the toilet seat lid, and turn on my laptop for the first time on this trip.

After checking my email, posting a sleepless status on Facebook, and writing on my blog, I am out of things to do. Perhaps I will try going back to bed.

It is 2:10 am.

Rebecca :0

Preperations

2010-02-02T19:44:00.001-08:00

Tomorrow morning we leave for Utah.

I am not running away

Not really

or at least

Not forever

I'm just getting a break

And seeing Rachel!

And Elizabeth!

And Michael! =)

And Grandma and Grandpa and Sadie and Polly and Dan...

And I'm not being here

for February

14th

Which probably

Will make life easier

But at the same time

being gone

tastes

Really

dark

chocolate

Like Cinderella

2010-02-01T17:35:00.000-08:00

I feel

like Cinderella

standing

on the empty

ballroom floor

holding

both my slippers

and wondering

what

now

This was not

how the story

was

supposed

end

Pausing for Snow

2009-12-21T18:10:00.000-08:00

I open the door

And the cat

Usually so anxious for escape

Stops

Nose in the wind

Sniffing the unfamiliar whiteness

One paw suspended

She reconsiders

He opens the garage

To a flurry of cold

And a gusty unexpected breath

His black shoes

Become dusted in white

He is surprised

At the deepness he sees

From here

Of drifts piled

Where the door had been

He sets down his briefcase

And fumbles

For the phone in his pocket

She bounces from the window

Across the room

Still in her pajamas

Collared shirt and blue slacks

Forgotten

Excitement

In every leap

She hollers

Downstairs

That the spelling test

Won’t happen

Today

I close the door

On chills

And shovels scraping

And squeals

About fast rides

Down steep hills

Into the empty street

Carefully

I make my way

Over piles

Of crumpled hats

Damp mittens

And puddles

Of melted boot tracks

To pull a blanket

Over my lap

And open my book

Almost forgotten

The cat is curled

Beside my feet

While the world

Pauses

For snow

A poem is never finished, only abandoned.

2009-10-14T08:31:00.000-07:00

I found a great translation of a quote that I love on

http://www.austinkleon.com/

"In the eyes of those who anxiously seek perfection, a work is never truly completed- a word that for them has no sense- but abandoned." Paul Valery

I have been editing and rewriting and editing and rewriting some more, and the more I do, the more I see that needs to be done. Sort of like cleaning the house. If I start scrubbing places like under the fridge and in the corners of the window wells, I find more and more dirt until I eventually realize I must either abandon all other pursuits in my life and devote my entire existence to housecleaning, or go to bed and give up on the project entirely. I'm not ready to abandon this novel yet. There are still things- the written equivalent of wiping off the kitchen counters- that simply must be done. But it is truly impossible, I am convinced, for any mortal to ever "Complete" a work of fiction. One word could always be better, one phrase more enlightening.

sigh.

I keep writing.

Unique Positions in the History of the World

2009-10-05T18:47:00.001-07:00

Have you ever thought about the few-- and I think there are only a few-- people who have held completely unique positions in the history of the world?

Consider Eve. There is no one with whom she can sit down and say, "You know that feeling you get when people accuse you of causing the whole human race to suffer because you ate one piece of fruit?" I mean, she could say that to me, but I would have to give her a blank stare, or at best some trite phrase, like, "I can imagine that must be really hard." But there is no one else that has been through anything similar. Ditto for Adam. (Although, of course, he and Eve have had very similar experiences. But I bet they have a lot of , "She says such and such, but I'll tell you what really happened." What married couple doesn't? And they had So Many years together! Lots of stuff to get mixed up about.)

And then there is Noah. He is only in a sort-of-unique position, since there are 7 others who can relate pretty well to his unusual experiences. He must be really grateful for those 7 people. It could have just been one woman, pregnant with twins, who was on the ark. That would have been a miserable experience. Thank Heaven (literally) that that was not the case!

And how about Mary. Totally unique. I think my favorite verse in all scripture is Luke 2:19-"But Mary kept all these things and pondered them in her heart." What else could she do? There was no one else going through a similar experience with whom she could go to lunch and talk things through. What a lot of silent pondering she must have done.

And Joseph Smith. (Some of you may not know his story, but he belongs on the list nonetheless.) To be, for a very long time, the only one living to have seen the plates, must have felt like Atlas. He could tell people, and others were being persecuted for believing him, but his position was still unique. What a relief it must have been- the weight of the world lifted off his shoulders- when he was told he could finally show the plates to others.

And of course, the Savior, Jesus Christ. While I can, in some degree, imagine what it must be like to be the others, I can not even begin to imagine what it would be like to be the Savior of the world. But the fact that it is a unique position is true by definition. And all the others, from Eve (and Adam) to the end of the world, who have held- or feel like they have held- unique positions, do have at least One person who can relate to them- because when Jesus was suffering for us, and performing the atonement, He had to experience everything-- every single emotion and feeling-- that anyone on earth had ever, or would ever, feel. So he felt what it was like to be Eve, accused of bringing the whole human race out of Eden. And he felt what it was like to be Noah letting people die while he climbed onto the ark, and Mary, and Joseph, and me. Not that I belong in that list. But he still felt everything I've felt. "Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me." He knows exactly what it felt like to be the mother of young children, home all day, with no other adults to talk to, because he felt it. Or a homeschooling mom. Or a college student with a late assignment.

I just wonder sometimes, who else there will be in this world with unique positions. I really do.

Brief Notes from the Sunday Morning Session of General Conference

2009-10-04T09:32:00.000-07:00

My notes are brief, and I've left out most of the stories (and all of the songs) because I have a hard time listening and taking notes at the same time. But this will gave you a small taste. You can find the whole broadcast, or just one talk at a time, on www.lds.org.

Elder Eyring-

Love one another.

Sorrow comes from selfishness, which is the absence of love

Choices we can make to assure no empty chairs for our family in heaven:

-Husbands and wives: Pray for love to see the good in your companion, to make weaknesses appear small, to want to lessen their load and make the sorrows smaller.

-Parents: Pray for your children, love them, have confidence that Jesus reaches for them with you;

-To children: (all children, young and old) honor thy father and thy mother… your quality of life will be improved if you remember your parents and love them.

-Parents: Ask children for pardon when you make a mistake.

"And great shall be the peace of thy children. And all thy children shall be taught of the Lord."

Look for opportunities to love, and you will feel the peace, assurance of a child.

L. Tom Perry

Swedish ship builders in the 1800's built the roof for the Manti Temple in Utah. They did not know how to build a building's roof, so they decided to build a ship, and then turn it upside down. The top of a building needs to be waterproof, like the bottom of a ship. It needs to be well- constructed. So that is what they did!

They desired to share what they knew to help build the kingdom of God. We can do the same!

H. David Burton

When I was 12 there were several requirements for graduation from Primary, including memorizing and reciting all 13 Articles of Faith in order. The first 12 were easy! The 13th is very long and I could not say it without help and prompting.

Many virtues end in -ity. Charity, Civility, Integrity, Fidelity, Humility, Generosity, Morality, etc. I call these the "ity" virtues, and many of them are missing from our society today.

We need not be a part of the virtue malaise that is plaguing our society. Teaching virtuous traits begins in the home, and is taught by example.

15 yo grandson is an avid skier. He would be allowed to compete if his grades were high enough. He worked and worked, but in the end, fell just short of the goal. He was not allowed to compete, and lost the opportunity to compete for a place in the junior olympics. But he learned a valuable lesson in integrity.

Lost Battalion of WWI, Lost Boys of Peter Pan, The Forgotten Carols... Do not let the "ity" virtues become the lost virtues. Now is the time for us to rescue those virtues that are virtuous, lovely, of good report and praiseworthy.

Ann M. Dibb

Several workers had been painting a bridge for about a year. Toward the end of their job, they fell to their deaths. People asked why they had not safety equipment. The answer: They did. But they did not choose to wear it.

We may also be in challenging circumstances. The dangers we live with today, including society's tolerance on sin. This is just as dangerous as falling from a 125 ft high bridge to our deaths.

In the scriptures there are very few (any?) of people living in blissful happiness without challenges. But our Heavenly Father has confidence in you! He will convert your supposed inadequacies into strengths. He has given us all the safety equipment we need to return to him. Scriptures, prayer, the Holy Ghost. It may seem cumbersome and unfashionable. But I for one choose to use it!

In the Book of Mormon we learn about another safety device: the iron rod, running along the straight and narrow path. The iron rod is the Word of God. I invite you to read it again. Hold on tight to the iron rod-- get a grip! When we let go, we easily got lost in the mists of darkness. If this happens, we can find our way back through repentance.

Use the safety equipment Heavenly Father has provided for you. They are, literally, everything.

Elder Russell M. Nelson

My wife, Wendy, and I were overseas and received news almost instantly that we had a new grandchild born on the other side of the world! Prayer is available to all of us with no equipment necessary, no monthly service fee!

To access info from Heaven, we must ask with Real Intent. Which means we must really intend to follow the divine direction given.

We must Study it out in our own minds, and then ask God. If it is right, we will feel that it is right. We will know it inside ourselves.

God has a long pattern of teaching people through prophets. If we follow God's prophets, we will be blessed.

The natural man is an enemy to God, and will be forever and ever unless he yields to the enticings of the Holy Spirit.

Personal revelation can be honed to become the gift of spiritual discernment. With this gift we can see things not visible- recognizing the needs of those around us, trends in the earth that will damage our spirits.

How can we have this gift? Develop Faith, Hope Charity and Love. Ask and you will receive. Knock and it will be opened unto you. Revelation need not come all at once. Line upon line, precept upon precept. To him that recieveth will the Lord reveal more.

Revelation exists because God lives. This is His Living church. Thomas S. Monson is His living prophet.

President Thomas S. Monson

Told of a man from southern VA whose father was a minister and who asked his children every night at the dinner table, "What did you do today for someone else?" This man went on to develop medical clinics all over the world where doctors volunteer their time to serve the poor.

Man's greatest happiness comes from loosing ourselves in the service of others.

I am confident it is each member's intention to serve those in need. How often have you intended to be the one to help, but daily life interferes, and we leave it to someone else. Have we lost ourselves in things that do not really matter at all, neglecting the more important causes?

I have wept in the night for the shortness of sight...

... but I never have yet felt a tinge of regret for being a little too kind.

For my birthday I asked members of the church to perform acts of service. (several good stories) For I was an hungered and ye gave me meat... naked and ye clothed me... sick and ye visited me... Lord, when saw we thee hungry or naked, or sick? Inasmuch as ye have done it unto the least of these, my brethren, ye have done it unto me.

Ask yourself, What have I done for someone today? (The words of the hymn Have I Done any Good in the World Today?) We have all been called to the service of the Lord Jesus Christ. He says, Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden and I will give you rest. May we qualify for that blessing.

The closing hymn: Have I Done Any Good in the World Today? by the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. =)

Looking Forward

2009-09-23T14:20:00.001-07:00

It's fall and I'm getting ready for the onslaught of holidays. ... thinking of Christmas presents... wondering what to do about Thanksgiving... thinking I should call around and find a place for a bon fire on Halloween... and wondering where I can get all natural candy corn!

I have found wonderful, amazingly tasty, incredibly delicious, all-natural candies at the Natural Candy Store. They have a huge selection and everything we have ordered from them has been candy to die for. Homemade-style root beer barrels, nougat sweetened with honey, real fruit flavored gummy bears, even rose flavored hard candies! But-- no candy corn. I think it's about as artificial as "food" can get. Which actually doesn't bother me personally. I don't like candy corn. But my kids- especially Rachel- do, and it would be nice to find some.

Ok, Bethany needs the computer to work on her Physical Science. So I'd better get off.

Rebecca =)

(If you find any all-natural candy corn-- call me immediately!)

odds and ends

2009-09-04T21:08:00.000-07:00

There is a kitty asleep on the foot of my bed. I know she's not supposed to be there, but she is so cute and little and asleep, that I am pretending I don't notice her. (Mike, I am sorry. But you are out of town, and I will wash the covers before you get back.)

I spent the afternoon at the pool with Naomi and I'm a bit burnt. And sore. Emily- I thought of you. Those laps were killers! I did two, stood up, and thought... "I'm about to faint. They'll have to fish me off the bottom of the pool." I made it to the edge very slowly, not in a straight line, and rested at the ladder for a few minutes before climbing out. After that I only did one lap at a time, and rested between them. I'm pretty sure my cardio-vascular system would benefit from my doing that a little more often!

We have had the windows all open and the AC turned off for a couple of days now. The weather is scrumptious. We should have days like this all the time. Warm sun, cool breezes, low humidity... aahhh...

I've been able to write a bit with Mike, Bethany and Peter gone, and Josh working. Jacob's Peak is getting plunged in the water, scrubbed, stretched and blocked. What will be different? I hope you'll find more accurate fight scenes, more realistic emotions, a longer passage over the mountains with more time for romance-- and fighting, more training for espionage and covert operations, more character development for Varik, and a stronger, more pro-active main character. Not to mention, an all-around better-written, edge of your seat, cry and laugh-out-loud novel. That's the plan, anyway.

At the moment, my eyes are burning almost as much as my sunburn. I should probably go to sleep. Sadie- I am reading a book that reminds me of you! It's called Viola in Reel Life. You should read it. But not till the semester is over.

Good Night!

CrossFit and a retraction

2009-08-20T08:53:00.001-07:00

After thinking about my last post, it occurred to me that the story cannot possibly be true. I hate it when people post things like that. Why can it not be true? Well, first of all, the guy supposedly started, taught-- and failed-- a class, all since Obama was elected, and since Obama's tactics became widely seen as socialistic. Not likely. Also it gives no location for the class, no year, no identifying info. I'm sorry I posted it.

But... I still think the concept is a correct one. So.

And now, since I'm sure you've all been wondering.... CrossFit! How is it going? What are we doing? I know, I know. You've been dying to hear all about it. =)

We wake up at 8 each morning. (Yes, it's shockingly early. But we have pioneer ancestors. Early hours are in our blood.) After morning songs and prayers we do the WOD. (Work Out of the Day) I don't remember what we did on Monday (probably something from CrossFit Kids), but on Tuesday we did a five-minute warm up (push ups, sits ups and such) followed by 7 individual push presses. I can hear you asking "Push press? What is that?" (No-- not you, Mike R. I know you know. You're probably asking, Just 7? I mean the rest of them.) It's a weight lifting thing. With one of those bars with heavy round things on the end. That's the technical description. You can watch a video of it here. After that we did overhead squats to the end of the driveway and back.

Wednesday we did 1 minute of the basic dot drill and one minute of double unders for warm up. Gasp! Pant! (No, that's not me in the double unders video. I know you were wondering) followed by-- in 15 minutes -- a 400 meter dash and AMRAP (as many rounds as possible) of 10 pull-ups and 20 squats. We installed another pull-up bar upstairs, since all of us were waiting for turns on the one in Josh's doorway, and it was really making the work out too easy. Mike promptly pulled himself up right into the top of Naomi's door frame and did the rest of his pull-ups with an ice bad on his head, poor guy. I made it through 6 rounds before our timer rang. That's 60 pull-ups and 120 squats. I thought I was going to either throw up or pass out-- or both-- by the time I was done. (I am such a wimp)

Today we warmed up balancing on the 55 gallon water drum (turned on it's side so it rolls) in the backyard, followed by push-ups. Then we did 150 wall-balls for time. Mike creamed us all, finishing in just over 2 minutes, and not even looking winded afterwards. (He said, "Was that it?") Josh came in next at 3 minutes, followed closely by Bethany. None of them looked too pooped. But then, we were using an 8# ball instead of the prescribed 20# ball. Ugh! Do you have any idea how heavy 20 pounds are when you have been throwing them over your head and catching them for several minutes? My arms ache just to think of it. Or maybe that's from the WOD. My own 5.5 minutes were not the slowest in the family. Peter, bless his little heart, took a whole 10 minutes. Probably just to make me feel better. =)

Believe it or not, I think we get a harder WOD when we do CrossFit Kids than the regular CrossFit I guess maybe they think kids are able to be more active than adults? (Huh. Why would that be? =) Everything I've posted here is from the adult WOD, but I'm thinking tomorrow we'll do the kids' WOD. You can read the kids' work out here. (Scroll down past the picture of Junior doing an overhead squat.) Then give it a try. If your name is Mr. Incredible, it will be a snap. If your name is Mrs.SitOnTheCouchAnd CorrectMathMostDays... well.... just come over about 8:45 some morning to see what you'll look like.

So, I may not be Super Girl yet, but I''m working on it!

Socialism

2009-08-12T07:31:00.000-07:00

I know many of you will not agree with this post, and I'm fine with that. I'd like to hear your thoughts- for and against- as long as they are not just attacks. I would really like to know how people who are pro-socialism see the world.

I got the following from my dad. Enjoy!

Rebecca =)

An economics professor at a local college made a statement that he had never failed a single student before,
but had once failed an entire class.

That class had insisted that Obama's socialism worked and that no one would be poor and no one would be rich, a great equalizer.

The professor then said, "OK, we will have an experiment in this class on Obama's plan".

All grades would be averaged and everyone would receive the same grade so no one would fail and no one would receive an A.

After the first test, the grades were averaged and everyone got a B.
The students who studied hard were upset and the students who studied little were happy.

As the second test rolled around, the students who studied little had studied even less and the ones who studied hard decided they wanted a free ride too so they studied little.
The second test average was a D!
No one was happy.

When the 3rd test rolled around, the average was an F.

The scores never increased as bickering,
blame and name-calling all resulted in hard feelings and no one would study for the benefit of anyone else.

All failed, to their great surprise, and the professor told them that socialism would also ultimately fail because when the reward is great, the effort to succeed is great but when government takes all the reward away, no one will try or want to succeed.   It could not be any simpler than that.

The Problem with Facebook

2009-07-31T20:21:00.000-07:00

It's been over a month now since I've written here. And it's all facebook's fault.

When I have 2.5 minutes, I can log on, check what everyone is up to, post one sentence about my life, and feel like I have communicated with the world. No more complete thoughts. We need Paul Harvey and the rest of the story.

So, for those of you who have been keeping up with my little blurbs on facebook, but who wonder, What has she really been doing this summer? Here is the rest of the story...

Driving.

No seriously. My new address is KEZ 1332. I have a 6 CD changer, a pretty comfortable chair, AC, and a cool cup holder.

But when I'm not in the car (which does happen sometimes!) I have been at my family reunion, traveling to Utah, and pulling up carpet and knocking holes in my wall.

The reunion was great. My parents, all my siblings, and all my siblings' kids came out to our area and we went to Mt. Vernon, visited DC, went to the top of the Washington Monument, rode paddle boats around the tidal basin, and watched the fireworks from the lawn of the Pentagon. We also celebrated my birthday, and all my family pitched in to make a book for me of stories and poems, compiled by Elizabeth and published by Lulu. They were SO awesome! The first story is by my Dad, the last by my Mom. Elizabeth illustrated the cover. Wonderful. Really very well done and amazing all around. (One poem by Casey still makes me laugh every time I think of it. I should ask him if I can post it here. Aahh... facebook. Just the place fir such things.)

Right after the reunion my house started smelling like formaldehyde, and to make a very long story short, we ripped up the family room carpet and knocked a sizable hole in the wall to figure out what was going on. (know that this was at the advice of Everyone, including the EPA, lest you think us crazy.) We have since solved the problem (sub-flooring) and have not fixed either the hole or the floor. We're working on that. (Much of that driving has been to Home Depot.)

The trip to Utah was great. I went with Bethany and we had a blast. First, I went to the doctor with my mom, and we got some better-than-expected news. Then we just had fun-- Alpine Slide, Brick Oven, BYU campus, Lara and her babies, and more BYU campus. My parent's house is beautiful and calm, and I'd forgotten what real grass looks like! That stuff does not grow in Virginia. Everywhere I went I exclaimed over the grass. And I converted. not to Mormonism. I already did that. To Crossfit. A gym. For the first time in my life, exercising is not boring and pointless! What an amazing concept! You should all look into it right now. Really.

http://www.crossfit.com

The we came home and... I drove some more. Moved back into my house at KEZ 1332. It's small, but cute. I took Rachel and Elizabeth both to the cardiologist. Rachel's heart is fine, thank you very much. And Elizabeth DOES NOT have heart failure! WOO HOO!!! =) This is good news. We've done that twice already, and really do not need to do it again.

And I've been writing. Some. I finally received a rejection from a publisher who held my book, asking fro more time and more copies for a year, just last week. I went from shocked, to angry, to thoughtful, to grateful all in about 24 hours. She made some very specific comments, and I have to say, some of them are right on the mark. And so I am making changes accordingly. I was sort of working on two other novels (the sort of is because of a lack of time) but they have been set aside until I get JP whipped into shape. A friend who knows about these things has been kind enough to agree to help me out with the fight scenes and other writing. (Thank you!) And somehow that is a catalyst for me to get moving. That, and the rejection, of course. But rejections can be positive. (I keep telling myself that.)

So, that is my summer. Friends are moving-- or have moved-- out here. But even my friends who live here I seldom see. Except on facebook, that is.

Rebecca =)

Getting Stuff Done

2009-06-06T06:01:00.000-07:00

I have wonderful news! It has Finally Stopped Raining! After weeks and weeks without two consecutive rain-free days, we finally have a forecast for sunny skies! Hurray!

Which means it's time to start getting stuff done. The backyard patio that the kids and I laid a few weeks ago still needs a cement border. (Not good to pour cement in the rain) The paving stones for the paths can now be laid without our being covered in huge mud splatters. And the grass can finally be mowed again!

Yesterday I figured out a way to walk on my left foot without being in too much pain, and now feel "stable" enough (foot-wise, that is) to finish painting The Wall in the front room. I didn't think standing on a stool with only one foot would have been the brightest thing I'd ever done. One broken bone is enough. So now the wall can get painted, too!

And... our hollyhocks that we started indoors are finally large enough to be transplanted out next to the fence! I love hollyhocks, and I really hope these will live, and grow, and be covered in flowers. They just seem like what every house should have. Along with peonies and white picket fences. And kittens. And a swing.

So, enough typing! Come by for a visit some time and see how our hollyhocks are doing. Check out The Wall. And maybe we'll bake cookies. =)

My Toe

2009-06-02T11:26:00.001-07:00

I wasn't kicking old ladies on the street, as my friend Karen suggested I might have done. It was Bethany. Not that I meant to kick her. And she was definitely not kicking me. It's just that our kitchen it small. So really, it's the architect's fault. If he had designed a little more space between the kitchen sink and the island, I would have fit easily behind Bethany as she washed the breakfast dishes. And then my toe would never have caught her ankle. And it wouldn't have stayed there, caught on her foot, as I passed her, and the bone would not have snapped. But since the architect was trying to save space, and probably earned enough that he did not ever need to wash dishes himself, he did not understand the dangerous situation he was creating, and my toe is now broken.

I went to the ER yesterday, and as my friend Jill pointed out, "All they're going to do is tape you up and tell you to go see a real doctor." One roll of tape, two crutches and several hours later, Rachel and I left to find a "real" doctor.

Which happened this morning. He was nice, and his kids are homeschooled, and they even use Singapore Math, which means they are probably smart, which suggests he is probably smart, too. All of which is good, because tomorrow morning I'm trusting him to put a pin (he said, "think finishing nail") into my pinkie toe. But not all the way in. The end will be sticking out the tip of my toe. =/ And then, in about 3 weeks, I'll go back into his office where he will-- (you should sit, if you're not already)-- Pull It Out with PLIERS! <=O

Does anyone else think this sounds like something from the middle ages? Or some combination of Star Trek meets Atilla the Hun? He assured me it wouldn't hurt anymore than what I've already gone through while breaking it. Considering that I was gasping for breath, unable to speak, trying not to cry out loud from pain in front of my kids... that's not really comforting. But the alternative is a permanently weird, likely-to-be-re-broken toe sticking out the side of my foot. So, I guess I'll go with the pliers.

One odd thing is that I broke my right pinkie toe (this time it's the left) in exactly the same way 9 years ago-- two days before Mike and I left for Ukraine to adopt Peter and Naomi. Weird, huh? When I told Mike what I'd done, he said, "We're not adopting any kids any time soon, are we?" I think I need to work on my proprioceptive skills, to become more in tune with my pinkie toes.

That's all the news today from The Cottage on the Hill, where the yellow rose bush talks (thanks for the heads-up warning there, Dan-- I'll keep an eye on it) and the dahlias are finally showing their... um.... sprouts? despite the almost constant rain lately. YAY!

Feel free to keep me in your prayers.

2009-05-29T13:58:00.000-07:00

It's getting black outside, about to pour. A moment ago, an enormous crash of thunder shook the house and rattled the windows. The kids just got in from HTT- even Naomi- and I have been here at home painting the front room wall, since I don't have a car today and can't go anywhere at all. When I get more batteries in my camera, and when the wall is finished, I'll post a photo of it. I think it's looking good. =)

Besides painting the wall, I've been working in the yard. I put in a stone patio, planted gardenia bushes, planted the dahlias I got for Mother's Day, put flowers in the front terrace, and planted a small yellow rose bush in the back yard. The rose bush called to me at the garden center. I swear, as I passed, it said, "hello!" I did a double take and thought, huh. cute little bush. But as I walked off to the stone section I just kept thinking, "that was a really cute little bush. When I passed it again it almost leaped into my cart. So I brought it home and planted it. It really is very cute.

Gotta go. This storm is getting bad. Power surge possible,

Thoughts on an Eagle Scout project

2009-05-22T05:32:00.001-07:00

Today was going to be the big day-- concert, bake sale, hundreds of people, and thoughts and donations for Uganda. But...

While Josh was brainstorming ideas about publicity a few weeks ago, concerned that he might plan a great event and have no one show up, he contacted the Potomac News about running a story on his project- which they did. The reporter and photographer were very nice. They came to his sound check when his band and another band brought all their equipment to make sure everything would work and to see where and how to set up. The story in the paper was very nice, but, unbeknown to us, caused some alarm in the local city offices.

Apparently they had just been discussing an incident in Baltimore where a girl's birthday party at a city park had to be shut down by the police, and they were all saying "Thank Heaven that didn't happen here!" The following morning the paper carried the story of Josh's Eagle Scout project and they all panicked, picturing thousands of rowdy teens running over the park and needing to be arrested.

Josh got a call that morning from the city council, and another from the chief of police. They wanted to meet with him to discuss the project. He and I went to the town hall that afternoon and met with two women from the city council and the chief of police. While they were all very nice, it was clear that they had already decided Joshua's event was not going to happen. The woman who had called the meeting kept saying, "It would have been a nice event..." Bad sign.

They had called the health department to inform them of our bake sale and to recommend it be inspected (and consequently shut down). They said there were not enough police in the city to patrol that sort of event. They said Josh needed permits and insurance and thousands of dollars to pay police, pull permits, and so on and so forth. It felt a bit like deja vu. (Similar thing happened with our home owner's association, after they had approved it)

So, today was the big day. The day we were going to be having a benefit concert. But Josh is going to work at a neighbor's house cleaning up their back yard, removing trees and cleaning out the garage. Which is a good thing to do! Just not what we were planning on.

On the bright side, how many young men get to meet with the chief of police and city council, besides the home owner's association board, all for one Eagle Scout project? Actually, he'll get to meet with the city council twice. They asked him to come back on June 2 to discuss the possibility of still having the concert. (For some reason, holding it at a later date might be better.) We'll see how that goes. As we were leaving the meeting, one of the women who had really sounded sorry about shutting this down said, "There will be a new head of the town council on June 1, but I'm sure it will still work out." Like I said- major deja vu!

I'm glad Josh is getting to really work for this award. I think, at some future point in his life, all these problems and set-backs will be seen by him as a great preparation time. In the mean time, I hope he can keep his chin up and make the best of a discouraging situation.

And if he ever does get his project to actually happen, I hope he has a whopping turn out, and is able to help tons of kids in Uganda.

Bookmarks

2009-05-13T17:01:00.000-07:00

Just a short brag. A while ago our county library system had an art contest for adults to design bookmarks. On the day the contest closed (procrastination is one of my strong suits) I decided that if I wanted to enter, I'd better draw something. So I drew two designs (well... three actually, but one went in the trash) and ran them over to the local library.

A few weeks later I got a phone call saying my bookmarks-- both of them!-- were chosen as runners up, and that 1,500 copies of each would be printed for people to take home from the libraries. My prize was a library book bag. Green and black and wonderfully sturdy. =)

Today we ran into the library-- literally, because we were in a huge hurry-- and Surprise! There were my bookmarks! One has a dragon reading a book, and one has a girl in front of a library holding some books in her arms. Should you happen to wander into one of our local libraries, pick one up! Hold your place, and enjoy some of my sketches. =)

Mother's Day

2009-05-11T08:57:00.000-07:00

I missed talking to my mom yesterday. First it was too early, then we went to church, then she was in church, then it was suddenly 11 pm here-- 9 pm there. I called, but no one answered. =( It's a sad thing not to get to talk to your mom on Mother's Day.

But I did think about her, and her mother, and my mother in law, and my other grandmother. here are some things I thought.

My mother is amazing. She has not been handed easy children to raise, but she has done a wonderful job. She can cook anything, sew anything, keep her house beautiful, offer recipes over the phone, and cater weddings. She is creative and an amazingly hard worker. I hope I can be like her, someday. =) If she had not been a mother I wonder sometimes what she would have been. Maybe a private investigator, or CIA operative, maybe a stewardess or travel agent, maybe a seamstress, or perhaps a school teacher. I don't know. I had a really good time with her in Panama and on a cruise to Mexico a couple of summers ago. Besides being a wonderful mother, she is just really fun to be with. (Oh. Sorry. I know that last sentence should not have ended with a preposition. She's also Really good at grammar! =) She grew up in Provo- on 9th East, right across the street from BYU- so after many years in the frozen waste lands on Minnesota, she is now back home. =)

Her mother is my Grandma Jones, and I lived with her my freshman year of college. She grew up in Delta Utah (they grow pomegranates there, I believe) and worked in a bank for many years. (Secretary to the President, I think?) She had a tiny bedroom in her basement with a bookshelf above the bed that was well-stocked with Nancy Drew, Brighty of the Grand Canyon, and many others. She had dried apricots in her freezer- which I helped myself to more often than I should have- Lladro figurines in her living room, and roses on her fence that I loved. The heavily-scented evergreen bushes by the side of her driveway are, to me, the scent of Utah. From her I learned to keep my underwear drawer tidy, that "beautiful" matters, and that spending time and thought on gifts is worth while. She seems like a queen in my mind, tall and dignified.

My mother-in-law is the kind everyone must wish for. (Sorry- another preposition at the end.) She compliments my skills with my children, tells me my house is lovely, and gives hugs all around. =) Very nice. My only complaint? She has a spotlessly clean house, so I have this standard of perfection for when she comes to visit. Sometimes I just tell myself, "It's ok. You have kids, and are running 24/7. She'll understand." And she probably does. It would just be nice if my house was as clean as hers. Or if I found dirty socks on her living room floor just once. =) But all around, she wonderful.

My Dad's mom is Grandma Crookston. She was tiny-- apparently she fit in a quart jar when she was born, and she did not ever get very big. She had this contraption in her bedroom on which she would hang upside down every day. I think it helped her back. She had a jar of pink and white peppermints that I loved, and when I got married she gave me the jar. Her house was old-- one of my some-number-of-great grandpas built it, I think in Brigham Young's time. And it had the most amazing climbing tree in the side yard. There were kittens by the back steps, and cows in the back pasture. I stayed with her one summer and loved it. From her I learned that it's good to have cookies in the cookie jar- preferable snicker doodles- that there is nothing wrong with taking the chipped china dishes into the yard to play tea party, and that if you shred cat tails in the yard, you have to clean them up. (Not easy!) She grew up next to the Cardston Alberta temple, and she loved it. Temples, peonies and petunias make me think of her. As I was weeding the front flower bed on Saturday I thought of her checking my work, and how she would make me get out even the tiny ones before I was finished. =)

I have been blessed by a whole lot of wonderful mothers. And wonderful children! Aahh... life is good!

What I forgot...

2009-05-07T17:49:00.001-07:00

Last night as I was typing my post I was really tired, and toward the end a few things slipped my mind. (Imagine that)

While in Panama City we also visited the Miraflores Locks and the LDS temple. They were both wonderful in very different ways.

We went to the locks first, since they were pre-programmed into our GPS. A ship was passing through, and it was Huge! There were thousands of boxes on board, and each one was the size of a semi truck trailer. Actually, "thousands" is probably an underestimate. I would love to have known what they were all carrying. We watched the lock be drained of water to lower the ship, and then watched the ship move out of the lock into the open canal. Even before the ship was all the way out, the lock began filling again for another ship. It was quite cool.

As we were leaving the locks, Mike asked a gate guard (in Spanish) if he knew where the LDS temple was. He beamed at us and said in perfect English, "You're from Salt Lake City!" We told him we were actually from Virginia, and I asked where he was from. He said, "Panama." When I asked how he'd learned English he said, "From talking to people!" He told us the temple was just down the street and around the corner. (We knew it was close.)

The temple was amazing. It's beautiful, of course, but the feeling was so... peaceful, wonderful, calm, and in many ways very different from the other places we had been. We took pictures that night, and Mike talked to a man from Venezuela who is thinking of moving his family to Panama because he is concerned that Venezuela is moving quickly toward communism. The kids all exclaimed, in quiet voices, how wonderful it was to be there.

We returned the following morning-- minus Peter, Naomi and Grandma-- to do baptisms for the dead. We joined a Panamanian ward from Colon, and everything was done in Spanish. The Panamanian kids were beautiful. Some were clearly native Kuna indian, and some were black, and some were Hispanic, but they all were smiling and reverent and although we could not communicate very well, they made us feel very welcome.

Ok, I'm off to read stories to my kids.

Good night! =)

Trip to Panama

2009-05-06T18:55:00.000-07:00

The first day we arrived and planned to take a taxi to the bus station, and then a bus to El Valle-- a village in the crater of an extinct volcano. But there were some problems with the taxi part of this plan, to the tune of $200. Yes, that's right. The taxi drivers wanted $200 to drive us across the street to the bus station. (We would have walked but we didn't know the way.) Mike made a wise choice and found us a rental car- for not too much more than the taxis! And so we missed the Panamanian bus experience, but gained the ability to stop wherever, whenever we wanted. It was a really great thing! =)

We stopped for lunch on the way to El Valle at a little Columbian restaurant and enjoyed grilled chicken and pork and cold drinks. Peter chased their chickens and we found a cashew tree and sampled the fruit. (the juice made our mouths very dry)

In El Valle we checked out a couple of hotels and decided on a cute little place. The woman looked pleased that we would stay there and said she would make up the beds while we saw the petroglyphs and found a place to eat supper. It was 6 pm and we told her when we'd be back--but when we returned, the hotel was closed, locked and completely dark. We were baffled. After calling, "Hello!" and walking all around, beeping the horn, and deciding there was really no one there, we drove back to the restaurant to borrow their phone. Mike called (our only Spanish speaker) and the woman from the hotel said she goes home at 6 pm every night.

What?

We drove around town looking at one dark hotel after another. Apparently the whole town-- other than restaurant owners-- goes home and to bed at 6 pm. Naomi was crying in the back seat, afraid we'd be spending the night in the mini-van. (10 people+ luggage, 8 seats) I was just glad we had a mini-van! Finally Mike found a hotel with an actual living, breathing person in sight, and we stayed there.

When we woke up in the morning we were surprised to see that we were in paradise! Misty hills, squawking parrots, bright flowers, mangos falling at our feet, hammocks to swing in, and a little stream running by.

We drove to the zip line hut (wooden beams with palm fronds for a roof, with various plants growing in the fronds on the roof), strapped on harnesses and hiked (about 45 minutes, I think) through the rain forest to the first zip line. The guide explained he would strap us onto the steel cables that were strung from one platform to another. I felt sick. The fall to the forest floor was hundreds of feet below us. I get vertigo just looking down a couple of flights of stairs. And my children! What kinds of a mother would swing her children- Tarzan-like- out into the jungle? I had to sit down. The kids were ecstatic.

I don't know who went first. But I know when they said it was my turn I knew I would pass out. Click. My harness was attached to the cable. Thick leather gloves were put on my hands, and I was told to "hold here" (behind the pulley system) "not here" (in front of the pulley system). I sat in the harness seat, like I was told to do, and they shoved me off the platform into the mists of the jungle.

Aauugghh!!!

The other platform loomed closer and closer and I gripped the steel cable to slow myself. Thud. I landed. And...

gulp. I was alive. and...

Woo Hoo! Was that ever fun!

I turned around to take pictures of my kids following me across the river below.

We went over several lines, including one that crossed the El Macho waterfalls, which were gorgeous from the platform after I landed, and which I photographed mid-air while I was on the zip line, but my memory is mostly of terror at being suspended above the ground and letting go of the cable to get out my camera. My feet are sweating even as I think about it.

When we got back to the hut, we changed into swimming suits and went swimming in the Freezing pond below the falls. It was gorgeous. Some Panamanian teen-aged boys were there, clearly showing off for the girls. We took photos with them, and talked for a while. They were nice, and the flowers were amazing. I had never considered that the Impatience flowers we plant in our yard must grow wild somewhere. Well, that somewhere is Panama.

Later we went horseback riding around the streets of El Valle, and visited the little zoo there, where we saw caymen, ocelots, a puma, and the famed golden frogs of El Valle. The frogs only live in El Valle, and they are seriously facing extinction because of a fungus that grows on their skin and suffocates them. The zoo is trying to preserve some of them. We were not allowed into the building where they were kept, but could see them through the windows. They were bright yellow with black spots. Very cute. Lots of other animals were there, too, including capybaras, and some enormous pig things that I did not photograph.

The next day we drove to Portobello, on the northern (Atlantic/Caribbean) side of Panama. We stopped at some 1600's Spanish fort ruins where the Spaniards tried to defend Panama from Pirates of the Caribbean. It didn't go too well, from the looks of it. The kids found a baby bird and secret passage ways, and we all enjoyed hiking around the ruins.

Our hotel was called Scuba Panama, and it was... umm.... scary. Mike escorted a cockroach out of our bedroom, and most of us chose to shower outside, in the places designed to rinse off after swimming. Not that the ocean water was inviting. Naomi went in and came out with her feet stained black-- I think from an oil spill. It was all quite disheartening. But pretty-- as long as you didn't look at the water. Flowers and coconuts and amazing birds.

But we were there to snorkel. We asked them to boat us to a distant island that was supposed to have clear water, but they refused. So we settled for their recommendation of a closer beach. Bad plan. I swam around the cove and saw lots and lots of sand and dead leaves. The kids, however, were pleased. They found a few fish and some coral, while Mike, my mom and I walked along the tiny strip of beach. Mike saw a toucan fly away, and we all saw hundreds of hermit crabs. But the most amazing thing was the ant highway. The ants had cleared a path about 5 inches wide and hundreds of feet long through the forest floor, and they were carrying pieces of leaves in one direction along the path, and returning empty-handed, so to speak, back the other way. I wished I'd been an ant reporter and could have interviewed them to find out why they were doing this. The path had forks in the road, and branched off in several directions. It was amazing.

We did not stay there two nights, as planned, but returned to Panama City where we found a clean hotel with hot water (our first since we'd arrived- it was heaven!) and beds we felt safe in.

Let me pause to say:

We are SO spoiled as Americans!

While in Portobello we were parked outside a cinderblock house. A mother and several mostly-naked children were there and they had nothing. The door stood open and I could see into their empty house. A few clothes hung on a barbed wire. Two thin cats prowled the yard keeping their eyes on a rooster, and coconuts littered the ground. The ocean was across the street, and people were catching lobsters, so I knew they could get food, but I turned from looking at them to look at my children-- dressed, clean, in an air conditioned car, with multiple changes of clothes in their colorful, cute suitcases, reading books and listening to music on their cell phones. I felt absurdly wealthy.

But I digress, I was talking about our hotel with polished stone floors, white soft beds and fluffy clean towels in Panama City. This is the life we are used to. A pool downstairs, a concierge to hep us find dinner, and tiny bottles of sweetly scented shampoo. It was so nice to have a hot shower that I shampooed my hair twice and shaved my legs, just so I could soak in the warm water.

In Panama City we had the most wonderful fruit smoothies, visited Old Panama and saw the palace, went to the Smithsonian marine research center and saw cool animals, shopped at the handicrafts market, and drank more smoothies. The kids stuck their hands in the Pacific the day we got there so they could be in the Atlantic and Pacific both on the same day.

And then it was time to go home! My mom almost was not allowed to get on the plane- but she made a fuss and they let her on. The flight home was uneventful (thank heavens!) and we saw Inkheart on the plane. It was pretty good. We got home at 3 am.

And went to bed. =)

Flight to Panama!

2009-05-04T19:37:00.000-07:00

We did it! (Panama-- that is.) And it was really, really fun. =)

Our adventures began at 3:30 am when we got up to get dressed (yes, we were dressed that early- even though we homeschool- amazing, I know) to get on the plane that left at 6:30 in the morning. Sacrificing sleep for vacation. Go figure.

I had pulled up our flight schedule the night before, just to be sure I had the right flight number and-- shock!-- we were not flying out of Reagan National! We were leaving from Dulles! Boy, was that a good thing to find out before we were sitting at Reagan wondering where our plane was.

I fell asleep on the plane right away- pretty soundly, apparently- and was surprised when we started landing. Short flight! Then I heard the captain say we had a medical emergency on board and were landing in North Carolina, and I noticed the guy doing CPR on someone at the front of the plane. We had the closest thing to a crash landing I ever hope to experience. Stuff went flying everywhere. Rachel said afterwards, "So that's why you have to have your seat back and tray in the upright position and locked position. So you don't knock your teeth out!" Ambulances, police cars, more ambulances. A woman was carried off the plane and into an ambulance. We waited. And watched out the windows. And waited more. The captain said, "Hopefully we will still have permission to fly to Panama today." Was that in question? The ambulance with the woman left, and so did we. Being in America they did not share the woman's medical information with the passengers. (In some places we've lived they probably would have announced to the whole plane exactly what was going on.) I hope she recovered.

The rest of the flight was uneventful. At least for me. I fell back to sleep- I thought only lightly- but when I awoke I was disappointed that they had not even served beverages, let alone food. Until my kids started talking about their apple pancakes, and I said, "Hey! You got food and you didn't wake me?" I was well-rested, though! =)

Now, speaking of being well-rested, I'm going to bed. I'll try to write more and post some photos tomorrow. (Today was laundry, grocery shopping, and clean the house day. I have never been so happy to do things I usually loath.)

Rebecca =)

who finished The Chrysalis by Heather Turrell and recommends it to any who enjoy a lawyer/mystery/historical fiction-type novel (some mild adult-type content)

Productive in Pajamas

2009-04-24T09:08:00.000-07:00

I had an interesting conversation a couple of days ago that I just keep thinking about.

A woman asked if I homeschool my kids, and I told her I do. She said that she has been considering homeschooling her kids for the coming school year. (This is common, in case you wonder. Everybody is apparently thinking about it. Many think, but few act-- which is not necessarily bad!)

She said she just can not imagine what a homeschool day would look like. How would it be scheduled? What would she and her kids do? I invited her to come over some time and see one family in action. (Just FYI: Lumping all homeschoolers together would be like lumping all mothers together. You cannot watch one mother in action and decide you have seen how all-- or even most-- mothers behave.)

She said, "That would be great! I can tell you're an organized mom. I've been to some homeschooler's houses at noon and..." she leaned in little closer to share a horrible secret, "their kids are still in their pajamas!"

Oh! goodness! how shocking! Like young George, I cannot tell a lie, but I felt like I was confessing on the spot to raising lazy, unsocialized, uneducated bums, as I cleared my throat and said, "Well, actually.... we have days like that ourselves."

She looked embarrassed-- although if that was for her comment or my confession, I couldn't tell.

Since then I have been especially sensitive to how my kids and I are dressed. I have been remembering the other day when my friend Emma showed up at the door at around 9 am and looked surprised. "You're dressed!" she said. Well, yes. I do occasionally shower and pull on a pair of jeans before noon. Not often. But sometimes.

But here's the thing this woman did not consider. It is possible to be productive in your pajamas! I know those people who go out into the world at the break of dawn have a reason to force themselves into the shower and shirts with buttons before the sun comes up. But, as Bill Nye would say, Consider the Following...

Suzy wakes up and comes downstairs to breakfast. On her way to the table she sees the book on iguanas she checked out from the library yesterday. She brings it to the table and reads about different species while eating her Cheerios. The book mentions the ancient Aztecs, so after putting her bowl in the dishwasher, she pulls out the A encyclopedia and looks up the Aztecs. Her brother sees what she's reading, and tells her they own a book about Aztec artwork, which she finds and reads, cover to cover, on the couch. When she's done, she pulls out her clay and beads and creates some Aztec artwork of her own. She includes some pretty realistic iguanas in her mosaics. Mom walks in and asks if she's done her math, and Suzy quickly gets up and grabs her math book from the bookshelf. She lays on the front room floor to work out her problems. Some of them don't make a lot of sense, so she gets out the counting blocks and the play money to figure them out.

Ding dong! The doorbell rings-- and there is the lady who's thinking of homeschooling. And what does she see? Suzy-- in her pajamas at noon-- laying on the front room floor with blocks and pretend money all around her. A kitchen table with clay, beads and construction paper out. Books and an encyclopedia on the couch. hmmm... this doesn't look good, does it?

(Granted, Suzy could use some practice at putting her things away when she's done with them. Her mom is probably working on that. Don't worry.)

I suspect that Suzy might remember more about the Aztecs, iguanas, and her math than Betsy, who is in her fashionable mall-bought clothes, with her hair brushed, sitting in a school desk passing notes to Billy and wondering where Amy got her new shoes.

Not that there is anything wrong with getting dressed. I do it myself almost every day. I simply propose that it is possible to be productive in your pajamas! =)

The Odyssey, Homecomings, Vacations, and Rock Concerts

2009-04-21T12:12:00.000-07:00

Our play for this spring is The Odyssey, and our kids are excited! Peter and Naomi have non-speaking parts. Peter's only request was that he be on stage as much as possible. (surprise!) Naomi's was that she be in a scene where she gets to eat. (surprise again!) Bethany is Helen of Troy (yes, she's lovely) and the Muse of Epics (whose name I do not remember). She will, I believe, narrate much of the play along with the other Muses. And Josh is Odysseus! Lots of lines. Lots of work. He's happy. In fact, they are all happy!

Rachel and Elizabeth get home in TWO DAYS! Can you believe it? We are So excited to have them home! =) They will only be here a couple of days, and then we're off to Panama! a break! a vacation! no school! no appointments to remember! no deadlines! My brain seriously needs this. If only I didn't have to plan it before we go... but that's ok. It's for a good cause. Do you ever have that feeling that you have shoved so many things into your brain that it's about to burst? And when you look behind you-- there are your thoughts all spilled out on the floor? It's not a good feeling. I'm hoping-- really hoping!-- that a vacation will give my brain time to recover from the beating it's taken lately. Mental exercise is one thing. The breaking point is something else all together.

Josh has been working on his Eagle Scout project. I used to wish-- many, many years ago-- that I could be a Boy Scout. They earned badges and got awards and people clapped for them at award ceremonies while I sat on a folding chair in the audience. They built model rockets and launched them in the field behind our church while I stood to the side and watched. Need I say more? But there is one thing I Do Not envy... The paperwork! Josh has filled out, written, lost and kept track of more paperwork for this project than most kids do in all of high school. Granted-- he is doing an amazing project. He's putting together a charity rock concert to raise money for a children's home in Uganda. No small deal. But if that was all he was doing, it would be no sweat. Josh is an amazing kid. It's the paperwork! All I can say is, Wow.

And-- you can do it, Josh! (assuming you get yourself un-grounded, of course.) =)

Finally, speaking of paperwork-- about 300 pages of it, actually-- the publisher who has my YA novel, The Other Side of Jacob's Peak, emailed me to say she has finished reading it and would like an electronic copy to share with her coworkers! =) Incase you're not sure, this is good news.

I sent out a few copies of the first three chapters of this book last August. They were accompanied by a synopsis of the entire book. Before Christmas Lisa Graff from Farrar, Straus & Giroux emailed and asked for the whole manuscript. She's now read it all, and is interested enough to want to share it with others in the company! In order for a company to publish a book, the editors all have to agree that it's a good risk, the acquiring editor has to present it to a group including marketing and several others, and everyone has to agree. Not a short process. To put it mildly. Even after they accept it, they almost always ask for edits, and then printing can take another 12 to 24 months. (sometimes longer) If it's a picture book, you have to add time (lots of it) for the illustrator to create the artwork. And no. The author does not usually choose the illustrator. That's the editor's job. It's amazing anything ever gets into bookstores and libraries. But I'm working on it! If this publisher does not work out, I'll send it out again. If this one does... well... I hardly dare to even think about that. Like wishing to hard might break the spell.

Now, since my girls are coming home soon, and my mom and sister come a couple of days later, and I haven't cleaned the house or done the laundry, and since I'm LATE to pick up my kids-- I'd better go!

Cool! Fun! and Free!

2009-03-30T16:15:00.001-07:00

I was looking on the Hoagies web site today and found an online site I really like. They have online lessons on a variety of subjects-- from the Periodic Table and Amusement Park Physics to the Renaissance and Cinema, all online, all interactive, and all free! Each "class" has a few different lessons, with decent animations, and is followed by an online quiz. Most of them are on a high school level, but there are a couple for younger grades.

This reminds me of when I found EdVentures online several years ago. At the time they were just getting their site together, adding more things, and I was amazed at all the classes online, for up to 10 kids in one family, for $60/year. Now, I have to say, they have gone more toward the public school venue, and are not nearly as homeschool friendly. Which is too bad. They had some fun stuff.

Anyway, enjoy!

A little Patch of Spring

2009-03-18T13:59:00.000-07:00

The Time! The Time! Who's Got the TIme?

2009-03-18T13:30:00.000-07:00

I'm getting so bad about writing on here regularly. Sorry. I run from one thing to the next, and fall into bed at night wondering why I did not get more done. I keep thinking any day now things will slow down.

After Utah I'll have time... After we get our passports submitted I'll have time... After I finish the backyard I'll have time... When the play starts I'll have time (yes, I should know better, but I do think this sometimes!).... When the kids get older I'll have time...

Anyway, you get the idea. In reality, I probably won't have more time 'till I'm in my grave. Nothing to do but lie about all day... And night... Forever... With the worms... Ugh. Sorry.

My friends Emma and Karen have invited me to go to Nepal with them next month to visit our friend Michelle. But... you guessed it! I don't have time! In this case, however, it's ok. They will be getting back two days before my family leaves for Panama. If I went, I'd miss being here when my girls get back from school, celebrating Elizabeth's birthday, being here when my mom and sister arrive, and would just be back in time for our Easter celebration. (Which is not going to be on Easter this year.) I'd also miss auditions for the Odyssey with my kids. And who would pack for Panama and prepare for Easter? Umm... probably nobody. Or I'd get to Panama and discover my kids had packed swimsuits, a Gameboy and Mad Libs, but nothing else. That would be a real adventure! I can just imagine.

So, I am passing on Nepal. And while part of me can't believe I'm saying that, it is true.

And, just in case you wonder, Rachel seems to be recovering well from her surgery. Our friends Dan and Kim have a new little boy! (Congratulations!) =) Elizabeth is learning to SCUBA dive. (See her blog for more info) And while I was in Utah, Spring came to Virginia. Life is good. =)

Rachel's Surgery

2009-03-10T07:33:00.000-07:00

Just FYI-- Rachel had her gallbladder out on Friday and is doing well. The surgery took about an hour, was done laproscopically (sp?), and although she is bruised and sore, she is doing well. =)

I'm here in Utah helping her- driving her to classes, handing out Ibuprofen, and giving hugs. Airplanes make so many things possible!

When I get a chance, I'll post some photos of the mountains (and a moose!) that Elizabeth and I took the day after surgery while Rachel was sleeping.

Love you all! =)

Winter Comes to Virginia! Better Late than Never!

2009-03-03T08:46:00.000-08:00

This beautiful window is from the National Cathedral in DC. I just love that place! =)

We had a snow day yesterday. A real one. 10 inches of snow, no school, and all. This is the first time since I've been in Virginia that I've seen a real snowfall! We have had dustings, and even an inch or-- maybe if you measure a place where it's drifted-- two inches. So when the wether men were saying we'd get anywhere from 2 to 13 inches of snow overnight, I knew which it would be. We'd get one and a half.

That night as I slept I dreamed, like Ezra Jack Keats' Peter in The Snowy Day, that all the snow had melted. I dreamed of rivulets of water running down the street and little slush piles beside the sidewalk. But when I woke and looked out the window I could almost see Keats' pink and blue snowflakes. It had snowed! For real! And for just a moment I was back in Minnesota, land of 10,000 snow storms, land of my childhood.

My kids, who did not grow up in Minnesota, were very impressed. They kept pointing out to each other the snow on the grill, the way it clung to the bushes, and how amazingly DEEP it was. =)

And I began to remember why, other than my husband's job, we do not live in Minnesota. Coats, hats and gloves all over the floor. Clumps of snow and puddles of snow-melt on the wood floors and carpet. Boots to trip over in the entry way. And sleds dropped in the front room, of all places.

All of which begs the questions-- why do we own sleds, boots and gloves if this is the first time it has really snowed in 5 years? To tell you the truth, I have no idea.

Perhaps next time AmVets calls about donations I'll have lots of things to put out. Then in another 5 years, when it snows again, we can all wonder what ever happened to that sled that used to be in the garage. And by that time I will have completely forgotten about what I did, and I'll be able to honestly answer, "Hmm.... I have no idea!"

Happy snow days Virginia! =)

Women's Conference and Wildlife

2009-02-21T20:54:00.000-08:00

No-- the women at the Stake Women's conference were not wild. They were all very well behaved, mostly in Sunday dress, even. I was a rebel and wore slacks. Mike saw what I was wearing this morning and asked, "Are you going like that?" When I informed him I was, he said, "Don't you want to call some friends and ask what they are wearing?" Maybe it was my lack of sleep, I don't know, but I said I didn't care what anyone else was wearing. It was a Saturday and I was Not putting on a dress. So ha! (Ok, I didn't say that last bit, but it was implied.)

The conference was a success. If anything it went a bit too smoothly. I'm not sure how many of these we've done now-- maybe 4? But I can definitely say that planning a conference for over 200 women is now something we can pull off like clockwork. So afterwards we decided that if we're still at this next year, we're shaking things up a bit- doing something completely new and unusual. (Notice that "if". It seems pretty big to me.)

We had wonderful speakers presenting on many aspects of happiness. My favorite was Rachel Ashbey (hmm... don't think I spelled that right), a psychologist we imported from Virginia Beach (and Karen's sister!) who talked about The Psychology of Happiness. Why do some things make us happy and others not? I had a bit of an "Ah ha!" moment during her class when she was talking about how we identify ourselves in certain ways, and then when those things change, we go through a bit of a crisis, wondering who we are. And yes, I am 40. I've scheduled my mid-life crisis for this April. It was good of Rachel to point out what I might do to avoid it, if I should decide I'd like to cancel that appointment. =)

We've had a few run-ins with wildlife over that past few days. Since it's after midnight I'll be brief. (Remember how the lack of sleep affected me this morning? If I don't go to bed soon I will undoubtedly be going to church in my pajamas tomorrow. And my bathrobe. It's COLD in that chapel!)

While walking Heidi yesterday, Bethany encountered a fox. She and the dog gave chase (whether Bethany wanted to or not), but the fox got away. Bethany lost her earbuds in the process and got a few scratches, but had a good run through the woods. I assume she'll write more about it on her blog. It was quite the little adventure!

And then Rachel told me about the ducks. Apparently she and Elizabeth were walking past the duck pond on their way to school (wild ducks live in a little pond just south of campus) when they noticed one duck across the street from the others. When they went to investigate, the duck came up to look at them, followed them, ate from their hands, let Rachel pick it up, and eventually came and sat on Elizabeth's lap! Rachel had her camera and got some pictures which she said she'll post on her blog. I won't tell you the end of the story. Check out Rachel's blog to find out why the duck crossed the street and to hear the Paul Harvey. =)

And! You'll never guess! Naomi actually made a joke! And it was funny! (First I need to explain that Naomi rocks from side to side during the night. We have to move her bed away from the wall so she doesn't bang-bang-bang on the wall while she rocks, and when she wakes up in the morning her hair would make any London hairstylist proud. I have tried for 9 years now to get her to stop rocking, but nothing works. Sharing a bed with her is simply impossible.)

Anyway, I was telling Mike that I've figured out what activity hurts my elbow the most. (Sore elbow-- orthopedic doctors, PT, no improvement-- don't recommend it) It's sleeping. During the day my elbow is bearable unless I do something stupid- like pick up my purse. But at night I think heavy duty pain killers would be in order. Or just general anesthesia. Mike suggested I try a brace at night, but I said that I think the problem might actually be that I'm holding still. Naomi piped right up and said, "Mom! You should try rocking!"

And now, to bed. And tomorrow, church! Who knows what I'll be wearing? =)

Notes on a Violin Recital

2009-02-01T14:04:00.000-08:00

Today was our solo violin recital, and as you can see from the photos, three of our kids played. Bethany was third on the program, right after the amazing Andrew, who is 8, (I think) and played like he belongs in Carnegie Hall. The teacher introduced Bethany, saying it was her first recital, and Bethany said, "And I have to play after Andrew!" We all laughed. Bethany played Andantino by Suzuki very nicely. =) Naomi was a couple of students later and played Minuet 1 by Bach with beautiful dynamics. And several students later the teacher announced a special guest. Peter got up with his chicken puppet (the guest) and had the chicken announce his piece, The Happy Farmer, by Schumann.

These recitals are a wonderful mixture of advanced students playing amazing pieces, and young beginners squeaking out a few notes of a Twinkle variation on their tiny 1/16 size violins.

While some of the students merely play notes which fall onto the floor of the church panting and gasping for breath-- others play music that rises like light, filling the air with emotions drawn from the very souls of those who hear. The difference has nothing to do with age or technical proficiency. Little Andrew can play like a gypsy and coax the cold stones from the wall into dance, and some of the very beginning students bring feeling to a Twinkle variation-- while a technically advanced student may, when she is done playing, find her notes lying in a puddle on the floor before her.

The US Constitution and Religion

2009-01-30T06:59:00.000-08:00

I have been thinking a lot about the US Constitution lately, and how American history, American government, and American laws are taught in the public schools and in our homes. I have also been thinking about how people do-- or more often do not-- discuss religion in America.

I have been struck several times lately by what seems to me an odd thing. Friends have said that they hope I am not offended if they ask questions about my religion. How odd! To me, religion is not a hidden thing. And yet, it seems to be becoming more and more hidden in America.

I think, throughout the history of the world, nothing has been more dangerous to individuals, families and nations than coercions of Church and State. Wars, bloodshed, hatred and tears have been the legacy of these two powers combined. Understanding this, the founding fathers of the US Constitution took great pains to see that two remain separate. And yet, recently, the division between these two has been eroded-- in a back handed, sly and sometimes misunderstood way. Instead of prescribing Catholicism or Protestantism, the government has been pushing and coercing us to adopt atheism.

(One method is by confusing the idea of public with the idea of government sponsored. These two are not the same. Public prayer is not government sponsored prayer.)

I was deeply bothered several years ago when I heard Bethany's kindergarten teacher telling the children about the first Thanksgiving. She said that the Pilgrims gathered to have a big meal and give thanks. "Who did they thank?" she asked the class. One of the children said, "God!" The teacher shook her head no. "They were thanking the indians," she said, and the poor little boy who had given the correct answer looked very confused. Afterwards I asked the teacher if she knew that her lesson on Thanksgiving had been incorrect. She said, "Yes, but that is what I have to teach."

WHAT?? Are we in a communist state here? Is our government rewriting history to fit the current version of politically correct? Who gave the school district, the state, or even the federal government the right to change what really happened? I was horrified and sick about what I had seen. And I still am.

I'd like to quote President David O. McKay in his remarks made in 1962 in response to the US Supreme Court's ruling on prayer in public schools. "By law, the public schools of the United States must be non-denominational. They can have no part in securing acceptance of any one of the numerous systems of belief regarding God and the relation of mankind thereto. Now let us remember and emphasize that restriction applies to the atheist as well as to the believer in God."

It seems to me that trying to teach US history without mentioning God is like trying to teach the settlement of California without mentioning gold. How can we teach about any of world history-- the everlasting conflicts in the middle east, great pieces of music, art of the middle ages, even the cold war-- without talking about God and religion? A person simply cannot be well-educated without knowledge of different religions. Curiosity about other's beliefs is a hallmark of an intelligent being.

Does this mean public schools should teach religion? Yes, and no. I think they should teach about all religions in an academic manner. Our children should understand the basic beliefs of Islam, Christianity, Hinduism, Buddhism and all other major world religions. They should be taught the parts these religions have played-- good and bad-- in world history, in the lives of great leaders, and in current events. Without this, their education is fractured and incomplete.

Now, I will get off my soap box and go get into the shower. Have a wonderful day. And please, discuss religion with someone today. =)

Grandpa Joe and Some Awards! =)

2009-01-28T09:58:00.001-08:00

Naomi sculpts people's faces out of clay, Play Dough, and stuff like that. They are really quite good. A couple of days ago she made-- out of green Play Dough-- Grandpa Joe from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, the book she's reading right now. I thought you might get a kick out of seeing him. =)

I keep forgetting to mention that my blog-- this blog-- won an award! I entered the Book Arts Bash, a writing and arts competition, in a couple of different categories. I entered my poem, Exiting Eden, the first three chapters of Jacob's Peak, and my blog, all in their respective categories. Apparently the novel and poetry competitions were the stiffest, with hundreds of entries from around the world in each age group. Bethany and Josh both had poems chosen as finalists, Elizabeth had a movie preview and a book cover (made with Rachel and Sadie) chosen as finalists, and my poem, book and blog were all chosen as finalists! Pretty darn good for one family, if I may say so myself!

The judges were a great group of people, including Lois Lowry (The Giver), Jack Prelutsky (First Children's Poet Laureate), Bruce Coville (Unicorn Chronicles, Shakespeare retellings and lots more), Robert Pinsky (US Poet Laureate), and Mir Kamen, (eminent blogger and author of Woulda Coulda Shoulda).

Bethany's poem, Finishing Twelve, won first place! Elizabeth's, Rachel's and Sadie's book art for The Goose Girl won first place! Elizabeth's movie preview for Saving LiZZy Fish won first place! And my blog-- the very one you are reading-- won first place! =)

Here's what Mir Kamen had to say about my blog:

Rebecca's blog has everything I tend to look for in a regular read-- she has a sense of humor, but it's not all comedy; she writes about serious maters, but in a genuine, thoughtful way; the topics are varied. I come away feeling like I've learned something about her, but without the over-sharing that can result in TMI or stultifying boredom for the reader. My favorite blogs feel like a chat with a friend, and that's what I get from Rebecca's writing. A little of this, a little of that-- a lovely little peek into her life, her family, her history and her writing.

Thank you Mir! What a wonderful compliment, especially from someone who knows blogging like she does. =)

And just one more note. I recently finished reading A Countess Below Stairs by Eva Ibbotson and thoroughly enjoyed it. It was fun, lighthearted, page-turning, old-fashioned romance, and I highly recommend it. =)

Book News

2009-01-26T14:00:00.000-08:00

In the world of children's book publishing, today was the big day! Newbery, Caldecott, Printz and other awards were announced. Neil Gaiman's The Graveyard Book took the Newbery and Beth Krommes took the Caldecott for The House in the Night.

In my own little publishing world, I had bittersweet news today. Two publishers have been considering Jacob's Peak, and today I received this letter from one of them.

Dear Ms Watson,

Thank you for responding to my query and sending me the first three chapters of The Other Side of Jacob's Peak. I'm terribly sorry for having had this for so long, especially since I have to pass. I think you have a wonderful premise. So wonderful, in fact, that I signed up a similarly plotted manuscript some months ago and think it would be problematic to have them both on Dutton's list. However, I enjoyed the narrative voice, and welcome you to send me projects in the future.

I'm sorry the news is bittersweet, especially after the wait. I wish you the best of luck in finding the right publishing home for you project. I'm returning the materials herewith.

Sincerely,

Julie Strauss-Gabel, Associate Editor

Dutton Children's Books

Augh! What is this "similarly plotted ms?" I want to read it when it comes out. And... I really, really, really want to find a home for this book.

In the mean time I have begun work on a book that, I recently realized, I have been thinking of since I was very young. Like maybe eight years old. It's a strange story, sort of a fairy tale feeling, with odd things, a bit of magic, and some nasty grown-ups. No title yet. I hope it works. I'll let you know. It feels so familiar, I guess because it's a story I've thought about for most of my life, in one way or another, so putting it on "paper" (or the computer screen) will be weird. I'm still at the think-about-it-as-I-drive, write-out-different-plot-variations, try-different-characters-on-for-size stage. But I am quite certain it will get written rather quickly.

And while I work on that, I hope and pray for the other publisher to LOVE Jacob's Peak. To laugh, and cry, and shout, and stomp, and then pick up the phone and call me and say, "I absolutely Must Have this book!" Now you know what Rebecca hopes for.

Have a wonderful day! Enjoy the new award winners! =)

Dead Weeds

2009-01-19T07:37:00.000-08:00

I have been taking my camera everywhere with me lately, photographing everything. My kids' violin lessons, things I see while sitting at stoplights (these pictures are not very interesting, I must admit. Stoplights are not in the most romantic locations), and dead weeds. Lots and lots of dead weeds. They are really quite stunning. I suppose some of them are probably not technically weeds, but still--

I hope to put together a lovely slide show entirely of dead weeds some time soon-- probably after my working time turner arrives-- and I'll post it here when I get it done. In the mean time, here are a couple of photos to get you thinking about the beauty of dead weeds. =)

In other news, we are finally taking down our Christmas tree today. Procrastination is a speciality of mine, but I've been getting a bit lax. We had one particularly memorable year when we didn't get the tree down until Easter. It might have gone that far again this year, except that Mike has the day off, and he put the kids to work on it first thing this morning.

Photographing everything is part of my New Life. (Rebecca version 40.2) In this life I wear red, carry a camera, and am organized. So far it's going well. I found some wonderful red shoes at the church clothing exchange and brought them home, even though-- at the time-- I did not own anything else red. But the thrift shop had a wonderful red boiled wool jacket and a bright red sweater with wooly white sheep. Bethany is happy to let me borrow her voluptuous red coat. I picked up a red purse at said thrift shop and Voila! The New Me! Dressed in red, photographing strangers, stoplights and dead weeds. (I'm not sure about the legality of photographing strangers at stoplights. I should probably look into that.) And between photo shoots, I clean out obscure corners of my house. I've thrown away countless little bottles of hotel shampoo, found more art supplies than any one person should be allowed to own, and wondered how unlabeled, burned CDs manage to multiply in bottom dresser drawers.

Have a wonderful MLK day, Inauguration Day, and remaining pieces of January. And please, enjoy the dead weeds. They only last so long, you know.

A funny moment in the Watson house

2009-01-07T13:38:00.000-08:00

Bethany just finished reading Twelfth Night and came upstairs very happy. She sat on the couch and smiled and buried her face with happiness in the quilt I sat under. I asked how it was and she said, "good." I asked if everyone ended up with the right person and she said, "yes."

Then Peter said, "Wait a minute. Didn't we do Twelfth Night?"

Bethany held out the HTT shirt she was wearing that said Twelfth Night in large white letters.

Peter said, "Isn't that by Shakespeare?" We said "yes", and he said, "I didn't know we did Shakespeare!"

Bethany said, "We didn't. You weren't in it. I was."

Peter said, "Oh. Who were you?"

"Curio."

Peter just gave her a look and said, "That's not helpful. Just tell me who played Romeo."

2009-01-05T10:50:00.000-08:00

This is a picture taken on my recent trip to Utah. From the left we have Rachel, my Dad, my Mom, me and Elizabeth. We are standing in my parents' front yard. =)

For just a moment

2009-01-05T04:38:00.001-08:00

For just a moment

I savor the softness

of the morning light

the press of my pillow

the quiet comfort of my quilts

as simple thoughts

slip into my mind

turning from dreams to reality

I remember responsibilities

The day begins

Happy Happy Happy =)

2009-01-03T17:53:00.000-08:00

Christmas is over. It was SO nice! Rachel and Elizabeth were here and I loved having them home. They left today to go back to school, and although I will miss them, to was so nice to have them home that I am still feeling all happy inside. =)

I'm writing, by the way, during a party at my house. I'm not usually a recluse, but since I am not a teen, I feel confident that they don't mind the fact that I'm ignoring them as completely as possible. Their stories of unreturned love via text messages, being nervous at Christmas recitals, and rounds of giggles from the girls when the boys tell lame jokes all leave me feeling grateful for an escape into cyber space. They have retreated into the basement, so I am left with a little piece of quiet. As I write, the candle Rachel gave me for Christmas is burning on the table beside me. It's a Salt City Sugar Cookie candle, and it smells delicious. I keep thinking I should go find whatever is smelling so good and eat it, but then I remember it's my candle.

One of the things I got for Christmas was... (drum roll please)... a camera! Woo Hoo! I am so excited! It arrived in the mail yesterday, and I've been playing around, trying to figure it out. You'll notice (I hope) a couple of new photos on my side bar. Yes, they are from my new camera. As are the pictures of Rachel's roses in the new slide show at the bottom of this page. Which reminds me!

Rachel and Elizabeth both had dates for the New Year's Eve dance! They dressed up in formal dresses, did their hair in amazing and lovely styles, and were out all night. The dance was at the Marriot Center in DC, and when they got home the next morning they both looked happy and exhausted. At least I think they did. I had been trying to sleep on the couch (to see them when they came in, not because of Mike) and hadn't gotten much more sleep than they had. Rachel's date brought her a dozen roses, and I took several pictures of them. You can enjoy them, minus the lovely scent, at the bottom of this page.

Yesterday, before the camera came in the mail (darn it all), we all went to the National Cathedral. It is amazing. Rachel decided to have her bridal pictures taken there, which I think is a wonderful idea. Now all she needs is the right guy. (No, he has not entered the picture yet, who ever he is.) We used Rachel's camera and took tons of pictures, which I will post here if I get around to it. If you are in the area, and have not been to the Cathedral before, I highly recommend it. Bring a camera.

We got one large family gift this year. I have had such a hard time not talking about this one! Every time I called Rachel or Elizabeth, every time my kids discussed gifts, or traveling, I just about burst at the seams with excitement.

We had opened all the gifts under the tree and the kids were wandering off into the kitchen or up to their rooms, when I pointed out to Peter the box beside the couch in the family room. "What's in that box, Peter?" He opened it and said, "More presents!" There was one for each of us. Bethany found a travel diary and a miniature beach chair, towel and shells. Joshua found a book on pirates. Peter got a book about the making of the Panama Canal, and Naomi found a book on wild animals in Panama. Rachel and Elizabeth each got travel books on Panama. Mike got David McCullough's book The Path Between the Seas on CD.

Rachel was the first to figure out what was going on. She looked around and said, "Do you all know what this is?" Everyone else just stared at her. Then Elizabeth squealed and ran to hug me while the other kids said, "huh?" I pulled out an envelope at the bottom of the box with our confirmation for flights to Panama at the end of April! Woo Hoo! We are leaving the country! Vacation! Escape! I am so excited! (Can you tell?)

And now... I have a question. How do you decide what to make as New Year's resolutions? Or do you even make them at all?

I do. Every year I resolve, basically, to become perfect in the coming year. My resolutions this year include writing every week day, loosing weight, attending the temple monthly (almost made it last year!), and being a wonderful, amazing and incredible wife, mom and homeschool teacher. ...Well, ok... I break those last three down into slightly more manageable pieces, but you get the idea. Usually my husband writes down everyone's goals in the family, and then brings them out from time to time during the year to ask how we're all doing. It's very helpful and only slightly annoying.

So. Do you have any goals for this year? Anything new you hope to accomplish or become? Do you write them down, tell someone, or keep them to yourself? And how about last year's goals? Do you remember what they were?

Ok, Mike is home with Peter and Naomi, so I'd better go work on that wonderful wife and mother bit.

Happy New Year!

Seeing Christmas Trees

2008-12-13T21:04:00.000-08:00

First of all, just let me say that I am photographically challenged. I admit it. I have been trying for weeks to get around to putting new (or at least different) photos up on my blog. And it's not going well. Long story involving multiple computers, secret passwords, and very old cameras, but just be aware that I am trying.

I'm writing in my living room as I sit on the fainting couch. (The couch is cool. Trust me.) It's about midnight and my house is mostly quiet. The tree is beautiful with white lights, candy canes and simple ornaments. I am remembering some very good Christmases.

The first Christmas we were married we were dirt poor, living in a tiny (actually, microscopic might be a better word) apartment in Provo, south of BYU campus. We had no money for a tree or decorations, but one night there was a knock at the door (we had no doorbell) and when we opened the door there was a tree, a stand, and a box of inexpensive ornaments. We decorated as if we were kings. And every person I saw became a suspect. Was it my Grandma and Grandpa who lived in Provo? Another young couple from church? One of the older couples on our street? I have no idea, but I hope they had a wonderful Christmas.

Another year we were living in Korea and our friends, Dan and Wendy, had no tree. I asked why, and Wendy said they had decided not to get one because of money issues. On the way back from Seoul about a week later, a man was selling Christmas trees on the side of the road and I asked my friend Diane to stop so I could get a tree for Wendy. When she heard the situation she said she wouldn't stop unless I let her pay half. So we got the tree together and back in Osan found a Korean man and told him to take the tree to Wendy's house, but not to tell her who it was from. He agreed, and she called me right after that to say, "Someone brought us a tree!" =) Several years later, just a few months before she died, she called and said, "If I ask you a question, will you tell me the truth?" This, I might add, is an unfair trick question. I agreed, wondering what I could have hidden from her. She asked if I had brought her the tree. Darn it all. I confessed, and told her Diane's part. What can I say? She has done so much for me. A tree is nothing for a friend like that.

When I was in highschool my family moved to Morocco. At first I knew it was my parent's plot to destroy my life. I could write several books on the whole thing, and might some day. But it's Christmas that I've been thinking of lately. Oddly enough. We put up a tree and decorated it, and what would have looked like a full-sized, wintery tree in our house in Minnesota, looked small in our huge, open house in Morocco. The polished stone floors and French doors with views of flowers and our banana tree, along with the complete lack of Christmas decorations and celebrations outside made the tree seem out of place. But it was Christmas. We had a maid who lived with us and was a wonderful cook. She and her relatives kept our house clean and our family well-fed. But one day she said to my mother, "Madam, can I ask you something? Why do we have a tree in the house?" We were all surprised, and tried our best to explain why, when we were celebrating the birth of the Savior, we brought a tree into the living room and hung things on its branches. That year my friend, Pierre-Paul, invited me to attend midnight mass with him. (There is a Catholic cathedral in Rabat. Foreigners may practice their religions in Morocco, but the Moroccan people are required by law to be Muslim.) It was impressive. I only realized later, when he asked if I would like an explanation about why Christians celebrate Easter, that he was trying to convert me to Christianity. (In case you are similarly confused, Mormons are Christian. Notice, it's The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. Click here if you wonder if I'm telling the truth.)

But an odd thing happened around Christmas time in Morocco. You know that really intense Christmas feeling from when you were little? It came back, full-force plus some, in Morocco. And just like in the Grinch story, it came without tinsel or TV ads or store fronts. Moroccans, being Muslim, do not celebrate Christmas. At first I thought it was odd that I would feel so much Christmas spirit in a country with no decorations, but then I looked again. We had shepherds that walked past our house every day, olive trees and dusty roads, and people who knew nothing of a Savior. What better reminders of Christmas. We also had poor people. I don't mean people without cable TV who get food stamps. I mean people living in dirt huts who walk to the well each day for water. And so, on Christmas we went into the medina-- the old part of town-- and just like on the first Christmas, these people had no idea the day was significant. We went to the beggars and brought gifts-- not of gold, frankincense, or myrrh-- but of durhams (Moroccan money). Instead of giving out change, like we usually did, we gave out sizable amounts of cash. I remember a lady sleeping while squatting on the dusty ground, her head in her arms, her hand stretched out before her. We put money in her hand and she opened her eyes and saw the cash and clutched it to her. It was a good thing to do, but how much more if we could have brought them to our house and fed and clothed them. I wish we could have brought them freedom of religion and from oppression. But we had durhams, so that is what we shared.

When I look at my tree tonight, those are the things I see. A tree on my doorstep. A tree on the side of the road. And a tree in Morocco.

Beethoven's Fifth Symphony

2008-12-09T10:44:00.000-08:00

I heard the most amazing bit of music today. I was listening to NPR, and some lady with a British accent was interviewing an Israeli musician who conducts an orchestra (the West-Eastern Divan) comprised of Israelis, Arabs and Palestinians. He said his orchestra is not trying to bring peace, they are trying to help people see the human-ness of each other. He feels this is the only way peace can eventually come to the middle east.

But, the music had nothing to do with Arabs or Israelis. It was Beethoven's Fifth Symphony. I thought I knew this song. I have undoubtedly played it on the piano. Probably all of us can hum it. But this was something different. It was like having seen sketches of the clouds at sunset, and even some decent paintings, but then- suddenly, when you think you are about to see another drawing, someone throws open the curtains and--

Da Da Da Dum! There are reds and yellows and blues in depths and emotions you had never considered before. The song had layers and emotions I could almost see. There was nothing harsh or angry about it, like I had always heard before. I was pulled into an emotion and meaning that was beautiful and nearly tangible.

Then, abruptly, the selection was over. It had only lasted a few seconds, and they went back to the interview. I pulled into my parking spot at the grocery store and turned off the car. But I didn't get out. I sat still, thinking of the music, and how I could incorporate that same feeling into a novel or story. It gave me chills. It would take a genius. Then I thought of the genius that had created the song in the first place. No wonder Beethoven is considered a great composer. How pitiful my banging on the piano must have sounded to him, when undoubtedly he had something much more along the lines of this performance in mind when he write it.

Beautiful. And amazing. I'm going to see if I can buy the song, by the West-Eastern Divan, on iTunes. You never know. It's not only Taylor Swift songs, you know. =)

Shopping

2008-12-03T16:03:00.000-08:00

I started Christmas shopping on about December 26th-- last year. I'm pretty sure that was the day I went out and bought some really cool stuff (can't say what exactly, partly because my kids read this blog, and partly because I don't quite remember) and stashed it in the back of my closet. I felt SO prepared. and thrifty! The sales on December 26th make Black Friday look like a trip to Tiffany's in NYC. Throughout the year I've found more cool things here and there, brought them home, and stashed them in the back of my closet as well. The other day I decided it was probably about time to reach into the depths, pull everything out, and see just how brilliant I am.

Well... Not so brilliant, it turns out. Some of those things I bought last December, when my older kids were...um...not quite so old, have since become The Things They Wanted Last Year That Are Not Cool This Year.

Great. Now what? Do I give them last year's toys? Try to return them? (yeah, right) Pass them on to younger siblings? I really have no idea.

I can say, younger kids are so much easier to shop for. They get a pretty doll or a train, and they're happy! It doesn't matter if the doll comes in a Wal-Mart generic box or and American Girl box. It's a doll! And therefore it is worthy of love. The train can be Brio or Target Cheap-O, and wither way, it's good for hours of driving time.

Enter the consumer-awareness, electronic phase of life, and Christmas turns from dolls and trains to cell phones and iPods. Music is cool. A digital camera/mp3 player/text-messaging/smoothie-making cell phone is even more cool. And so Christmas shopping becomes a bit more tricky.

Thankfully, my kids are a good bunch and will be happy even if they all get is socks and toenail clippers from Santa this year. I'm happy to have our tree up and to hear Christmas music on the radio. I'm glad my girls will be home from college. And I'm thankful for the wonderful life Jesus Christ lived so we could have a Savior, and a reason to celebrate Christmas.

How life is going... or My Trip to Utah

2008-11-21T06:09:00.000-08:00

I flew to Utah last week to visit Rachel and Elizabeth. It was a quick decision. On Friday afternoon I thought, "I wonder if I could get a cheap ticket to Utah?" Sure enough! I called Mike at work, told him the price, and he said, "You'd better go, then." I bought the ticket and got on the plane the next morning. It was such a relief to be there.

When I called Rachel to tell her I was coming, she picked up her phone and whispered, "Can I call you back?" A moment later my phone rang and she said, "Sorry, I am in the ER with Sadie. She's having emergency surgery in a few minutes and Grandma is in Minnesota."

What?? (Sadie is my 17 year old sister, so Grandma is Sadie's mom, just FYI.)

Then my mom called and said, "I hear you're coming to Utah. Are you staying at our house? Because we're getting tile laid in the dining room and entry way, repainting the kitchen, waiting for our curtains to be finished, and the furniture is all moved."

Elizabeth sounded relieved that I was coming. Her current medical concerns were the straw that finally put me on the plane... so to speak. (No camels or broken backs involved.) And Rachel just about cried.

While I was there, I got to go to class with Rachel and Elizabeth, watch Elizabeth fence at BYU's fencing club, watch Rachel dance in her clogging class, take them both out to dinner with their room mates, pick up some all-natural groceries for them at The Good Earth, and spend a lot of time just talking and being together. It was wonderful! =)

I also took Elizabeth to the retina specialist. A couple of weeks ago she developed a large blind spot in her left eye, and she's been to some different eye doctors. The retina specialist said he thinks it's MEWDS (Multiple Effervescent White Dot Syndrome). He gave her an injection of dye and then photographed the back of her eye (the retina) and printed the photos. Quite interesting to see. The good thing about MEWDS is that, if that's what this is, it should clear up on its own after several weeks. (7-10) We are really hoping and praying that's what it is. We welcome all of you joining us in praying for her.

Rachel has also been struggling with hypoglycemia and stress from some very difficult classes. Life just seems to be made of trials. I guess that is why we're here.

Now that I'm back home, it's performance time for The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Bethany is an extra and Josh is running the sound board. I took Peter and Naomi to see it last night, but Naomi was crying at intermission. It was too scary and upsetting for her, so I took her home. We talked about the characters and what bothered her. ("The women should have been nice to the baby Quasimoto. They were mocking him when they made him King of Fools. No one should whip another person. And they were going to kill Pierre just for not having a wife!") She read scriptures and then we watched a silly movie together. She was looking much better by the time she went to bed.

Rebecca

who read The Map Thief on her trip, and recommends it, and also read The Spellbook of Listen Taylor, and thinks it was really weird.

A Lot of "Why?"

2008-11-07T08:27:00.000-08:00

There are a lot of unusual things our family does, and people often ask "why?" In case you're wondering, I thought I'd answer a few of them here.

Why do you homeschool your kids?

I started homeschooling for a couple of reasons. First of all, there was no room for Joshua in second grade at the school near our house, so he was going to be bussed for over an hour (each way) to another school when he was 7. I was not ok with that. And then there was Naomi. She took all my time, energy and attention when school was out, so if I ever wanted to look at my other children, let alone talk to them, it had to be during school hours. We started homeschooling as a way for my other children have a mother. And it was So Great! We loved everyone going at their own pace, having time together, and learning cool stuff as a family, so we continue! (And, btw, Naomi is doing much better and is now homeschooled, too.)

Why do you eat all-natural food?

Or, around this time of year: Why don't your kids eat Halloween candy?

A friend of mine (hello Jill!) mentioned a couple of years ago that her son had a better, more cheerful attitude when he didn't eat certain artificial food colors, flavors and preservatives. I just couldn't help thinking, "I wonder if my son would be more cheerful on that diet, too." So we tried it. And guess what? It wasn't just my son, and it wasn't just a small difference. We do eat candy, but it's all-natural. And life around here is much happier!

Why don't you have a television?

Yes, it's true. No television. We lived overseas for so long where there either was no TV, or the shows were WAY beyond the Super Bowl wardrobe malfunctions, that we just got used to it. When we returned to the states we saw no reason to pick up an expensive, time-wasting habit. We do play a lot of card games, board games and read a lot of books.

Why are you Mormon?

I'm a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints because I believe that God is still alive and well, and that he talks to living prophets on the Earth today just as he did in the Old Testament and New Testament times. I believe He loves all the people on the Earth, and so gives His word to everyone, including the Jews and others who wrote the Bible, the people in America who wrote the Book of Mormon (another testament of Jesus Christ), and people today. And I believe that He intends marriages and families to last forever, not just "till death do we part." =)

Why did you adopt?

We felt like it was the right thing to do. (think of a lightning bolt with a post-it-note stuck on the end that says, "Thou Shalt Adopt!") We felt like there were two specific children somewhere in the world who were supposed to be in our family, and so we set out to find them.

Why is your house such a mess?

Ok, nobody has actually asked me this. But I'm sure any of you who have been to my house are wondering. Let me see... we have 6 kids, we homeschool, Mike and I both have church callings, and if I get a spare moment, I write.

Why do you write?

Because it's a challenge. Because there are so many good stories to tell. Because I love words and the idea that an experience can be shared by people all over the world, through different times, by lines printed on a page. And because I hope, in some small way, someone's life will be better because of something I've written.

Rebecca =)

Madeline L'Engle

2008-11-03T07:47:00.001-08:00

After years of thinking I should write to Madeline L'Engle, I finally sat down today to find her address, compose and mail the letter. Her influence on my life has been enormous, and it would be inconceivable not to let her know. (That word, I do not think it means what you think it means.)

I pulled up her official web site and sat. Stunned. "Madeline L'Engle, 1918-2007"

I first read A Wrinkle in Time in 3rd grade. That was a hard year for me in school, and Meg felt like a real friend. I was intrigued by the science side of the book as well, and felt the truth of the universal battle between good and evil in my bones. I knew it to be true. So I re-read the book. Again. And again. And again. until I had most of it memorized.

I began looking for other science books to either confirm or deny the reality of the scientific concepts L'Engle presented. Were tesseracts real? I sat on my bedroom floor and drew pictures of the first, second, third, and fourth dimensions. I read A Geometry of Four Dimensions in fourth grade, although most of it was well over my head, and gleaned pieces of information that I could ponder while sitting in class with nothing interesting to do. (Thus my poor grades. Not that they were stellar to begin with.)

Some time in highschool I made a rule for myself. I was not allowed to re-read any book until I could not remember how it began. I quickly realized this was a near impossibility with A Wrinkle in Time, so made it my one exception. I continued to read it at least once a year.

When I took geometry in highschool I thought I had fallen into heaven. Here, finally, was a math class I understood! Not only did I understand it, I cold have taught it. It was nothing more than common sense spelled out. Any serious Madeline L'Engle fan, who had spent years trying to understand tesseracts, could do this simple highschool geometry with their eyes closed. No fourth dimension required, no non-euclidian strangeness to understand. Just simple proofs of everyday reality. Heaven existed!

I don't remember the first time I read A Wind in the Door, which is about Charles Wallace having mitochondrial disease. But I do remember thinking, "That feels like what is going on in my own cells." Quickly followed by, "Yeah, right. Like you can feel your cells. And as if your favorite author just happened to write a book about a rare disease, and you just happen to have it. Oh please." I let it drop.

But I did have, a few years later, my own little brother who was very much like Charles Wallace. And I did go on to major in physics because of my love of science sparked by A Wrinkle in Time. And I did do science experiments in the kitchen, and move to exciting foreign countries, and battle evil in my own small ways. And when a boy Rachel was dating said, "Do you know what your family reminds me of? Don't take this the wrong way, but, have you ever read A Wrinkle in Time? Your family seems a lot like theirs," I didn't stop smiling for days.

And then, our family's unusual medical stuff became more pronounced, and I began doing some serious internet research to try to find out what was going on. And I came across something that fit. Something that I could hardly believe. Mitochondrial disease. The thing Charles Wallace had. The thing I'd thought about back in elementary school. It fit. How weird is that?

So I decided that it was time. I had to let Madeline L'Engle know about her influence in my life. So I pulled up her web site. And felt as if the wind had been knocked right out of me.

She died last year, on my little sister Polly's birthday. A memorial service was held in NYC, and if I'd known I might have gone. But then again, with life how it is, I might not have.

Maybe in the next life I will find her, in the millions and millions of people that will be there, and I'll be old and dead, too, and hopefully also a published author, and we will sit and talk. I know we will have a lot in common. Or I think we will. or I hope we will. Maybe she can read this blog.

It is appropriate that she died last year. It was the year of the funeral. My grandpa, my little nephew, and one of my best friends all died within a few months of each other. And, apparently, my favorite author too.

I just wonder, How did I not feel this gap in the world before? Maybe because there were so many gaps forming, so many little black holes in the universe that Madeline L'Engle's was lost in the blackness. I should have written that letter long, long ago.

Rebecca

who really, really recommends A Wrinkle in Time to anyone who has not had the pleasure of reading it yet, along with The Arm of the Starfish and of course, A Wind in the Door.

=)

2008-11-01T21:20:00.000-07:00

I opened the mail yesterday to find a non rejection letter!

Lisa Graff at Farrar, Straus and Giroux has read the first three chapters of Jacob's Peak and would like to read it all!! Woo Hoo!!

I spent a couple of hours today sweeping out the corners of the manuscript, making sure it doesn't have any red notes to myself in the "for publishers" copy, and tweaking the ending slightly. I also ran to Office Depot to get more manuscript quality paper, since it is about 300 pages, and I don't have that much good paper around the house. I've made enough changes since the last time I mailed it that I figured I'd better print it again.

Wish me luck!

Rebecca =)

So much news!

2008-10-30T11:06:00.000-07:00

I'm falling behind on my blog... if that's possible. (Is that possible? It's not like I have a schedule, or due date for postings. But sometimes big things happen in life, and they are so big that I'm working on sorting them out, and only after the fact do I have the time and emotional energy to post about them.)

Anyway! first, I get to brag. It's a parental right, and one of the rewards for 9+ months of your clothes not fitting and several hours of excruciating pain and really, really hard work. =)

Rachel has been asked by her animal anatomy professor to do some research and to apply for an ORCA grant ! If she gets the grant she will be doing research on rattle snakes and how varying levels of rainfall affect their health by looking at isotopes of certain elements in their rattles. (did you get that?) This is something that has apparently never been researched before, so her chances of getting a grant are pretty high. One of the cool things is that, of all the kids her professor teaches, the professor asked Rachel to do the research and apply for the grant! What a compliment! Way to go Rachel! =)

Back here in Virginia, many of our family members recently submitted writing and other art forms to the Book Arts Bash. And several of our entries are being considered as finalists! You can look on the Book Arts Bash web site to see our entries. (If they are not posted yet, keep checking back. Or I'll tell you here when they are up.) You'll find some wonderful poems, great artwork, and all-around incredible writing, if I may say so myself. =) And the prizes?

Drum roll please....

Having your work reviewed by some of the biggest names in the industry, including Lois Lowry (The Giver), Robert Pinsky (Poet Laureate), Sara Gruen (Water for Elephants) and Bruce Coville (Unicorn Chronicles and many, many others), to name just a few. Holy Cow! Who wouldn't write their heart out for a chance like that? Keep your fingers crossed! =)

Our well-entertained fish (see my previous post about Peter dancing for the fish) have been moved into new and improved, luxury dwellings. I think this was filling some emotional need on my part. Clearly the fish had not asked for the move. But I've been feeling so trapped lately, (just think of the housing market!) that looking at them in their 2 cup containers only made me feel worse. None of us could go anywhere! Swim to the right. Turn around. Swim to the left. Turn around. Swim to the right. Turn around. Repeat. Forever. Until your eyes glass over, you go belly up and get flushed down the toilet. I could relate a little too well.

Since I'm not going anywhere exotic any time soon, I moved my fish to new, exciting locations. We got two huge (if you're a beta fish) 5 gallon tanks and decorated them with pebbles, a sandstone arch from our family vacation to Arches National Monument (one of my all-time favorite places on Earth), a lovely blue castle with a mysterious cave, and other lovely and exotic findings from places as distant as the garage and my kids' bedrooms. I was sure the fish would be thrilled!

But apparently beta fish are not the high adventure types. The one we left in the front room seems to be faring well enough, although he spends most of his time in one corner of the tank, as far from that foreign arch as he can get. The other one we moved, not only to a new tank, but also to a new room, and it appears that may have been a little too much change for his poor constitution. His color is not looking so good, and instead of gobbling down his food, he just stares at it.

Darn it all. I offer a little excitement and then find out they are fish of a different color. They remind me of some of my in-laws. No sense of adventure. (sorry, family. no offense intended.)

Rebecca

who is dreaming of touring Antarctica, climbing to Machu Pichu, exploring the Galapagos, and sitting on the crumbling remains of Ancient Greece.... sigh....

Chocolate-Covered Peanut

2008-10-21T21:02:00.000-07:00

I took the kids to the pool today and while they swam, I read.

As you may or may not know, my two youngest are adopted from Ukraine, and we have struggled as a family with the severe emotional disabilities Naomi has faced-- through no fault of her own-- because of her early life situation. She has made Amazing, Miraculous progress in ways that professionals told us was not possible. But I'm not a perfect mom, (is anyone?) and lately I've been feeling like I could use an injection of courage and good thoughts on our situation.

So... the book I was reading is Attaching in Adoption, by Deborah D. Gray. It's not the kind of book you recommend to your book club, any more than you would talk about suicide attempts in your preschooler with the moms' play group. But for parents of kids with attachment issues, it is a God send. Believe me.

I've read pieces of the book over the past several years, looking up information as I need it, being careful not to overwhelm myself with more info than I need. But today I read the last page of the book. Let me share it with you.

A child with malnutrition and severe abuse in her background attempted to injure me several times. As she improved, she was invited to her first-ever birthday party. She brought me a chocolate-covered peanut from the party-- carefully saved in a plastic bag. "I saved two, one for my mom and one for you. Eat it," she said. "It's good. It's got a nut inside."

She shared her hurts with me; she shared her party. When living in that moment, watching her face and her mother's, life was sweet-- and I have never savored a better nut.

I looked at Naomi doing summersaults in the pool and cried and laughed.

It's good. It's got a nut inside.

So, so true. And, like Deborah Gray, I have never savored a better nut.

Rebecca

Can You Fly?

2008-10-20T16:33:00.001-07:00

I had no idea, when I went to the library on Wednesday, that it would be any more memorable than any of our other library trips.

My kids were scattered all over the place finding who-knows-what. Books, magazines, DVDs... watching the snapping turtle paddle around his tiny world... talking to ever-patient librarians.... stuff like that. I was in the young adult section looking for something good I had not already read (this is a constant challenge to which I'm sure many of you can relate) when I became aware of someone beside me. I kept reading, thinking it was one of my children, but when a voice said, "hello," I paused.

I turned to see a black boy with huge brown eyes sitting on the tall chair beside me, swinging his feet, one shoelace untied and dangling toward the floor. "Hello," I answered.

"My name is Jamal," he said, as if this was what I wanted to know. He was right. Then he answered my next question. "I'm four. And this is a tall chair. But I can get off it." He jumped down. "And I can get back up." He climbed back up.

I wondered what I could possibly say to this amazing feat. "Wow! You must be really good at playing on the playground!"

He leaned in closer, looked me right in the eye, and whispered intently, "I can fly."

I stared at him, shocked by the force and honesty of his statement, until after a moment I remembered that this was a four year old boy in the library, and that he probably couldn't really fly-- although something about his sincerity, or my gullibility, had caused me, for just a moment, to be totally impressed. And jealous.

He must have seen something in my eyes because he leaned in closer and asked, "Do you want me to teach you?"

I had to blink before I could hoist a smile onto my face. "Sure!"

He sat up and looked around the library, leaning back on his chair to see behind the shelves. Then he turned back to me. "My babysitter is here today. How about tomorrow?"

He looked so sorry, and I was disappointed as well. "Tomorrow would be great," I said, although I must admit, I was wondering how he would find me tomorrow. Thursdays are busy days. But for flying lessons I could cancel just about anything, including peace talks to stall Armageddon.

Our conversation moved on to other topics, like where my parents were, and if any of my kids knew how to drive cars. Apparently driving cars impressed Jamal almost as much as flying impressed me. After a while he jumped of the chair and went to find Peter and talk to him-- a great match, I have no doubt. And then it was time to check out our books (I did find one I hadn't read) and go home.

It's now Monday and I'm still waiting for those flying lessons. Maybe I should have given him directions to our house. Or maybe he's waiting till he gets his driver's license. I hope that babysitter is nice to him.

Rebecca

who checked out The Swan Maiden by Heather Tomlinson, and finds it a tolerable substitute for flying herself

Changing Sheets

2008-10-14T06:32:00.000-07:00

My back is killing me this morning, and I know why. I helped Bethany change her sheets last night.

We have an odd collection of beds at our house, gathered from the many places we have lived. Our first bed, right after we were married, was a king sized affair wedged into a furnished basement studio apartment. We had to inch sideways to get past it into the kitchen. The carpet was fire engine red shag, the gap under the front door was large enough to see visitor's shoes before opening the door, and we heated the place by leaving the gas oven on with the door open. A visitor once asked, "How long are you going to live under here? --I mean, down here?" Not long, thank heavens.

Our next bed was a mattress pulled from a garbage dump near our second apartment. We kept it for years, one the floor, without a box spring, until I woke up one morning with cuts on my back from the springs poking through and we decided it really was time to actually buy a bed. We pulled money together and bought an amazingly comfortable bed that causes us to be late for church and other important commitments because it's so dang hard to pull yourself away from. Six months later we moved to Saudi Arabia and put our bed into storage.

We didn't have to buy beds in Saudi Arabia, because our (huge) house there was furnished by the government, tab picked up by the Saudis. We had nice stuff. It did not come back to the states with us, unfortunately.

We started serious kids' bed shopping in Korea, ironically enough, where the natives (people from Korea-- not tribal villagers) sleep on yos. We bought two yos-- thick padded things my husband confuses with European comforters, but much heavier than a comforter. In the morning, to make your yo, you just fold the whole thing up and set it in a corner. This would have made that studio apartment much more livable. But we Americans like our large furniture, don't we?

We also bought the back-breaking bed in Korea. It's a trundle bed, and is really cute. Just like middle school girls, it may look lovely, but watch out! That thing is a killer. The *!%^*?#! mattress and box springs are all one piece, weigh about 500 tons, and are set down in the frame that has cute little sides, just the right size and shape for holding fingers in place while the weight of the mattress crushes them.

When I told Rachel that Bethany and I were going to go change her sheets last night (it is at least a two person job) she said, "Mom, be careful. Under no circumstances should you put your fingers under the mattress, no matter what. It might seem like the right thing to do at the time, but don't-- under any circumstance, put you fingers under the mattress." Words of wisdom. Believe me.

So Bethany and I Heaved and Hoed and shouted things like, "Hurry, please! Hold this part up with your feet while I struggle under here to lift this other part and pull the sheet over the corner." "Don't drop it!" and "Ok, move your hands and feet slowly away while I brace my back against the wall and keep you from getting smashed. Now on the count of three I'm going to drop it. Are you ready?" It took about an hour, and at one point I had to go wake Josh up and ask for his help. We needed a strong guy.

At the end of it all we stood back to admire our work and I think, "No wonder those Koreans sleep on yos," as I grab an ice-pack for my back, take 800 mg of ibuprofen and collapse into my own comfy bed (retrieved from storage after Saudi Arabia) beside my sleeping husband.

But Bethany has clean sheets-- at least for another couple of weeks.

Joshua's Birthday and the 70's

2008-10-10T19:19:00.000-07:00

He's 16, and tonight is his birthday party. He's invited 15 people -- both boys and girls. They've had cookies and ice cream, opened presents, and right now they are outside playing capture the flag. Several of the boys brought their guitars, and for a while they all sat in front of the house playing and singing together. Kind of cool. It's nice that Joshua's friends are also Bethany's friends, so they are having fun together. And I really appreciate that there is such a good group of kids around.

Mike has taken to reliving the 70's by watching old television shows on the internet. I think it's some sort of mid-life crisis. I'm just waiting for him to walk in the door with platform shoes. He's watching something called, (I think) "Welcome Back"? He's shown the kids Sigmund the Sea Monster, Land of the Lost, and the old Batman show. My kids reaction? "Did you really watch this stuff? No wonder Star Wars was such a big hit." I personally think the 70's were bad enough the first time around, and I'm happy to forget them. But, as Mike points out, I did wonder at the time why my Dad didn't dress more like Mr. James, my fourth grade teacher. He (Mr. James, that is) was SO cool. He had the biggest bell bottoms I'd ever seen, the longest collars, and an afro that my dad-- being white and mostly bald-- could never pull off. But still, Dad could have tried. Besides the wardrobe, Mr. James let us watch 3-2-1 Contact ever friday afternoon, and he read us a chapter from a Newbery book every day after lunch. I thought he was the best thing since Holly Hobby.

As I type, I have Brigitta, our tail-less, large gray cat sitting on my chest. (I'm lying on the couch with my laptop propped on my knees so I can see over her.) She's quite warm, and is purring loudly. It makes typing a bit difficult, though. And parents are starting to arrive to pick up their kids. So I'd better go.

BTW, I highly recommend Evil Genius and the sequel, Genius Squad. For some reason, they make me want to develop computer hacking skills. But they are also a lot of fun.

Rebecca =)

The Economy

2008-09-30T09:18:00.000-07:00

I have been, along with the rest of the country, concerned about the current economic situation. I've made some attempts to understand the situation, and here are my thoughts so far.

I've lived in a socialist country-- the Netherlands (aka Holland). Although people are people wherever you go, there are some clear differences between life in the Netherlands vs the US, caused by differences in government.

In the Netherlands people rely on the government to provide for most of their needs. While this may seem lovely and charitable in a Robin Hood sort of way, the reality is that they have a disincentive to work. Trying to find a plumber when your bathroom is spouting water can be a huge challenge. Why? After earning a certain amount each year, the rest is taxed 100%. By the end of the year, most workers have earned all they are allowed to keep, so why work anymore? For the common good? Yeah, right.

If you need to go to the doctor, you have one choice only-- the doctor the government has assigned to your neighborhood. (Think public schools in the US. You go where you are assigned.) Charming idea-- neighborhood doctors. But what if the guy assigned to your neighborhood barely passed medical school? Oh well. And since doctors are paid by the government a set salary, they have no incentive to actually cure anyone, no need to attract patients. Whether you get better or not, they are paid the same. And since their clients are assigned to them, nice bedside manners are completely optional. (It may seem they are in the US, too. But at least we have choices. If Dr. One is a total jerk, we can go see Dr. Two.)

So what does all this have to do with the US economy?

Well, I happen to believe that the government should govern. Not run our lives. Because I think things run more smoothly when the bureaucrats keep their paws out of the stew. I don't want the government taking control of our companies, our money, and our lives any more than they already have. In fact, if they'd back off a bit, I'd be thrilled.

If all this has been caused by debt-- families unable to pay their mountains of debt, homes going into foreclosure, companies failing because of too much debt-- then why would we want to pass this all along to our government? If families, mortgage holders, and huge Wall Street companies can fall from excess debt, then so can governments. And, flawed as it may be, I am rather partial to the US government. I really don't want them to collapse financially. And I really don't want to set a precedent for the government owning, and bailing out, private companies. (Go ahead, say the precedent has already been set. But if we've made a mistake in the past, does that mean we should keep making it?)

I'm relieved the $700 billion deal didn't go through. To be honest, I'm disgusted with Bush's repeated grabs for more power. An unnecessary war, NCLB, and now the government soaking up debt for private companies-- this has got to stop. I think the $700B deal is an attempt to stop the economy from failing on his watch-- "Just patch things together long enough for me to get out of office, and then let them collapse." We, as individuals, companies, and a country, have made some bad choices, and now we are facing the consequences of our actions.

Rebecca

-who does, btw, support a resolution to the situation in Iraq. We can't just destroy another government and an entire country and then go home. We have to help clean up.

Ok... one more thing...

2008-09-25T20:10:00.000-07:00

Take a look at Sadie's blog-- linked at the right, a little down, under family sites. (She's my sister, in case you don't know, and was recently seen in Saving LiZZy Fish, the hit movie.) She has posted the cutest pictures of my girls at BYU! And herself, too! I have such cute kids and sisters! Not to brag, of course. I'm just stating the obvious.

A slide show test run

2008-09-25T20:03:00.001-07:00

But also...

2008-09-25T19:37:00.000-07:00

My apologies. I think I got a bit negative with that last post. (And if you're reading this on the blog, you're reading the new post before the old post. Forgive me. Technology.)

Sometimes life is hard, that's true. But sometimes it's also wonderful.

Sometimes your daughters call from college to tell you about a cool new dance, and just to talk, and you can tell they love you. Sometimes your son gets to work on a historic ship right here in northern VA, without the drive to Jamestown, and it doesn't start to rain till he's done. Sometimes the pharmacy is still open at night when your son really needs his kidney meds. Sometimes not only do you get to visit with your friend, but your kids play nicely-- without fighting!-- right where you can see them. Sometimes your daughter comes home from play practice bubbling with happiness and excitement. Sometimes you have all the ingredients to make bagel pizzas for lunch, even all-natural pepperoni. Sometimes your teen-aged son helps cook dinner for the girls at church, all of his own accord. And sometimes your kids cheerfully take care of themselves and are kind to each other while you run to the pharmacy.

All in one day!

Yes... what's a girl to do?

After ranting on her blog about how hard life can be, she might just feel better and notice that life can also be pretty darn good.

But she'll still take that Mom's Night Out.

Sometimes

2008-09-25T18:10:00.001-07:00

Sometimes life is just hard.

Sometimes the other kids snub your child. You forget important appointments. Your doctor calls to tell you your tests are all normal so there's nothing wrong-- even though you feel like you've been trampled by elephants. It rains-- reminding you your car tires have No tread left as you skid on wet pavement. You come home to that flooded-basement smell. Again. Your son's kidney stone is making him cry. And when you finally reach your husband by phone at 9 pm, it's on his office phone.

All in one day!

What's a girl to do?

My current ideas:

Tell those goody-goody tweens who snubbed your daughter that their jeans look ridiculous, and you're sorry about their Really Bad hair day.

You can avoid all missed appointments if you just stop making appointments! Who needs appointments?

Pull that doctor's diploma-- frame and all-- off the wall, and hide it under a stack of those flimsy, too-short, paper gowns while he's chatting with the nurse. Flatly refuse to tell where it is until he figures out what the heck is causing the elephant stampede. (This won't be during an appointment, of course. You'll be a walk-in.)

Just quit driving. Since you've given up appointments, it shouldn't be too much of a problem. Order out for groceries.

Move to Texas. They don't have basements. (Oh, yes. hurricanes. Move inland.)

And finally, call the top generals at the Pentagon and let then know, in no uncertain terms, that the whole $7 billion Congress is debating won't be enough to cover your husband's overtime, but you guess you'd be willing to let them start there. Assuming they let your husband deliver the check to you in person. Tonight.

And finally, schedule a Mom's Night Out.

I have now revealed my list of things to do tomorrow. And at least one of them I'm actually going to do.

I'll let you guess which.

Princess Ben

2008-09-24T16:53:00.000-07:00

She's fat, somewhat of a slob, interested only in herself, and a princess. And I finished reading the book about her in about 24 hours. In fact, when I woke up this morning I laid there and thought, "...morning... yawn... should get up.... Princess Ben!" And I was out of bed, flying to the shower so I could get in a minute of reading before driving the kids to violin. I laughed and cried and reread sections thinking, "Did she just say that? Ha! She did!" It's a fairy tale worth reading. Five stars.

DNA

2008-09-22T08:48:00.000-07:00

While researching ancient Mesopotamian civilizations, I came across a very bizarre, but somewhat useful website on the Sumerian pantheon. While it had lots of useful insights to Sumerian mythology and connections to other mythologies and religions around the world, it also proposed a somewhat unusual idea: That humans on earth are the result of a genetic experiment by aliens from other planets, and that the experiment will end in the year 2012. My first thought was- "The presidential elections are even more useless than I thought they were!" Compared to the alien genetic experiment ending, Obama and McCain are nothing.

Phew! That's a relief.

This did present a whole host of other questions the web site did not address, like What will the aliens do with us when their experiment is over? And, Are the experimentees who are aware of their fate planing to do anything about it? Build a spaceship and leave? Beg the aliens for a little more time? Join them? Hmmm... so many possibilities to consider.

But I digress. What I really wanted to talk about was DNA. The above mentioned web site also proposed that the ancient symbol of health-- two snakes twined about a pole-- was actually a representation of DNA left behind by the aliens. What an idea.

Perhaps this stuck in my head because I've been thinking a lot about DNA recently. Have you ever considered the pros and cons of being built from DNA? Pros: You are a composite of your ancestors' DNA, including (most likely) their health, IQs, food choices (which can alter DNA), toxic exposures, etc. Cons: You are a composite of your ancestors' DNA, including their health, IQs, food choices, toxic exposures, etc.

How is this a pro? Well, for one thing, as a parent raising biological offspring, you know what ballpark your child will be in. You may think they are in left field sometimes, but at least they're not in a different solar system. If Johnny gets sick you know to consider Uncle Joe's diabetes and Aunt Edith's paranoia. Suzy's IQ may floor you, but you're at least likely to be able to carry on a conversation with her.

How is this a con? Well, that toxic lab you or your parents worked in years ago may manifest itself in Johnny's health. And Grandpa Smith's tobacco addiction may haunt your whole family for generations to come. And like it or not, what ever is wrong with your DNA is likely to be wrong with your kids' as well.

Then of course, if you adopt a child there is no "insert new family's DNA here" port, so when Johnny is in the hospital with odd symptoms-- good luck! And talking to Suzy may be like trying to discuss the baseball game only to find out she's playing in a hockey rink up in Siberia.

And what about evolution? (Disclaimer: I am a creationist who believes in evolution. While you'd think this would endear you to everyone, it actually just ticks everyone off.) I am completely certain that God created the universe, and that he's still alive and well and running the show. I also know that even the most die-hard anti-evolutionists can't argue with the fact that over-use of antibiotics has led to changes in the germs we're trying to avoid. This is evolution right before our very eyes, folks. I'm sorry, but you just have to deal with it. It's real.

So, why is it still the Theory of evolution? Why not the Law of evolution? Like gravity? Because there are actually two parts to the Theory.

1) Living organisms can change and evolve to better suit their environment. Proven. Again and Again and again. The antibiotic example is only one of many.

2) Living organisms can change and evolve so much that they become entirely different living organisms. Theory. While it may follow (somewhat) logically from #1, we have no direct evidence for this type of evolution at all. Forget the "missing link", we're actually looking for any links.

But what about DNA? Don't we share huge amounts of DNA with palm trees? Doesn't this prove something?

Yes, we do. And undoubtedly it does. But what, exactly? Looking at it from a purely scientific standpoint, it is still Just A Theory. We can like the theory all we want, but that doesn't make it real. Because, like it or not...

truth exists.

It always has. It always will.

Galileo proposed that the earth went around the sun. (Which was not a new idea, btw. It was a very old one being re-proposed.) This didn't fit with the current politically correct (or religiously correct) view point, but it was still true, and all the arguments against it couldn't change the truth.

And the fact is, God either did create everything, or he didn't. He either exists, or her doesn't. We either evolved from plankton, or we didn't. We are either the result of an alien genetic experiment or we're not. And all the wanting and wishing and debating in the world can't change the truth.

Truth exists.

We can just do our investigations in hopes that we come know what is true. Sometimes, like Galileo with the earth, we hit it right on. Sometimes we don't. Sometimes the world loves us for getting it right. Sometimes it doesn't. But none of that changes what is true. Truth exists.

Which brings me to the question: How do we really know something? But that is a topic for another day. (Go ahead-- sigh with relief.)

Rebecca

who forgot to mention that you have DNA both in the nucleus of each cell and in your mitochondria-- and they are not the same. Cool, huh? And they are passed along in different ways, too. But that is also a topic for another day.

Writing

2008-09-19T18:41:00.000-07:00

The other day I spent hours trying to find my old blog. I tried everything I could think of, including Googling myself (which brought up some interesting results, by the way, none of which were relevant) and trying to hack into my own site. I ended up just cursing my stupid brain and deciding there was nothing to be done. The blog was lost.

Then a few moments ago I logged onto this blog and noticed again the other blogs I have access to, including some of my kids' and, for some reason I don't totally understand, one of my friend's, and HEY! There was my old blog! Right There! Right in front of me. Waiting to be accessed. And I just have to wonder... What really is wrong with my brain? How could I have Not Thought of That? Humph. You'd think I was getting older or something.

Tonight Mike came home early. Meaning before 11 pm. My kids looked up and-- after taking a moment to remember who he was-- said, "Dad! What are you doing home?" Like he doesn't live here. Mike asked if he could fix dinner (bless the man!) and suggested I take some time off from single parenting and go write. Then it was my turn to take a moment to register. Write? You mean, like a book? I did used to do that, didn't I? And then I felt that moment of panic.

Now if you happen to be a writer yourself, you'll know exactly what I'm talking about. You've had a few weeks when, for whatever reason, you have not been able to write. (Like maybe your spouse has been living at the office and you've been running life single-handedly. Just for instance.) And then the thing you have been aching for-- time to write, to get back to that character that has been following you around while you fold laundry-- presents itself, and you freeze. Can I still write? What if I can't? What if the characters won't talk to me after I have ignored them for so long? What if they have gone back to wherever they came from, along with my muse, and I just stare at a blank screen? ...Maybe I should just fold some more laundry.

But Mike was home, and that was a miracle in itself. Perchance other miracles could happen, too. Perhaps I could still write.

So I took my laptop and went to Borders where-- miracles Do occur!-- I found a seat in one of those comfy chairs in a warm spot and opened the manuscript I had been working on weeks ago. It was still there, and I must admit, I still liked the characters. I edited a bit and moved into the real writing when

Ding ding ding, Ring ring ring!

my cell phone rang. And there was Mike, my sweet husband who was home with the kids, letting me know he could not pick up the Panera bread donations because we had left his car at the commuter lot that evening.

Ugh.

I saved my work, shut down the computer, and rushed to Panera to pick up the donations for Lakeridge this week. They let me in, even though I was there a few minutes late, which was very kind of them. And they gave me bags and bags of bread for hungry people to eat, which is very, very kind of them. But I swear I could see little Annabelle, destined to overthrow the kingdom when she grows up, wearing her soft slippers and new green dress and scowling at me. She's been waiting weeks to grow up, to get out of the garden where she spoke of her true identity to her uncle, the king's spy and-- although they don't know it yet-- were overheard by someone who stood in the shadows of the garden door. But she will have to wait, although she's not patient by nature, because my children are ready to read scriptures before they go to bed and Mike is home and I should really spend some time with him, too.

Rebecca

who finished reading Aurelia by Anne Osterlund recently-- was it yesterday?-- and enjoyed it quite a bit. =)

Winner!

2008-09-13T20:25:00.000-07:00

Yes!!!

For the first time ever, I did it! I beat my computer at the game Hex! Go ahead. Give it a try.

See if you can win.

(But if you do, and if it's on your first try, just don't tell me, ok? I don't want to hear about it.)

And hey! no fair reading the hints before you give it a try. I've been working on this in my rare free moments for a while now, and finally gave in a read the strategy hints tonight while waiting up for Josh to come home. Not that that had anything to do with my finally beating my computer. The two were totally unrelated.

Now, just as I was typing my phone rang and guess what? It was Josh, ready to be picked up. huh. I thought they were dropping him off.

I guess I'll go.

Rebecca =)

proud winner of Hex

Real Life

2008-09-09T06:07:00.000-07:00

When I was younger-- like junior high age (middle school hadn't been invented yet)-- I used to cut out pictures from magazines and catalogs and create pictures of my future life. I would glue the pictures onto sheets of paper to make maps of my future home. These beautiful french doors will lead to my garden... This cute blond girl will be my daughter named Alice (after the Wonderland heroine).... This huge and immaculate kitchen will be in the west wing of my house.... and this tower will be just off the master bedroom suite, so I can have the smaller library of my favorite books close at hand. I tried to find a picture of a husband that looked as much as possible like Joel, a boy in my school that I had a terrible crush on, but to whom I had never actually spoken. He would clearly make a wonderful husband. After all, he had really nice hair.

I thought of this the other day after the basement had flooded. Everything non-perishable from the storage room was in the garage, our food storage was all over the dining room, and one of our cats had begun boycotting the litter box. (From what I read online, rearranging furniture can be stressful to cats. I figured the whole flooded basement situation probably qualified.) I was fed up with not being able to use the garage or the dining room, with not being able to find anything (think construction zone mixed with a house just after moving) and with the smell of cat urine everywhere.

I tried cleaning the house, but everywhere I went to put something away I found another thing the cat had urinated on. My cheerful "let's clean up the house!" attitude turned into something more like, "What are you all doing just sitting there? Can't you see there is a disaster here? Get up! Work! Be feverishly cleaning!" My children started watching me carefully out of the corners of their eyes while scrubbing and saying things like, "It's ok, mom. Don't hyperventilate. We'll get it clean." I bagged up smelly backpacks, stinky tennis shoes, and anything else that was unfortunate enough to be in my path. But when I got to the garage with the trash, I opened the door and stopped. Others had taken the trash out before me, and --unable to find a path through the piles of stuff to the trash can-- they had dumped bags of trash on top of the piles and all around the garage door. I tried hitting the garage door opener so I could sidestep the mess, but it wouldn't open.

One of my kids found me just then, and seeing the look in my eye, suggested this might be a good time for me to go get in the shower. I dropped the trash bag onto the pile and went upstairs. But when I opened my bathroom door, there were two huge Rubbermaid boxes full of Legos soaking in water and urine deodorizer-- one in the shower, the other just inside the door-- blocking my entrance to the room.

I called to Joshua to ask how I was supposed to get in the shower with his Legos in my bathroom. He pointed out that we have two showers in the house.

oh yes.

I gathered up my towel, shower cap, and a change of clothes and made my way to the kids' bathroom. (When I told Rachel about this later, she groaned at this point, knowing the usual state of the kids bathroom.) Let me just say, a couple of boxes of Legos were nothing compared to the swimsuits, soggy towels, hair brushes and clumps of wet dog hair I found in the kids' bathroom. At least someone had bathed the dog.

At this point I suddenly remembered those collage houses I had made in junior high... The french doors, the library tower, and the immaculate kitchen... Where had I gone wrong? How had I gotten into this mess?

As I leaned my head against the bathroom door post and cried my kids came up the stairs and someone put their arms around me. "It's ok, mom. Just step over the wet towels and ignore the dog hair. That's what we do."

I did have a very long shower that day. And by the time I got out, the kids' shower was sparkling like it hasn't been since we bought this house.

We have since put about half the stuff back in the storage room, reclaimed our dining room (but not our garage), consulted a cat psychologist online and found a non-lethal solution to the urine problem, and put the fresh-smelling Legos back in Joshua's room. Last night I gave the dog a bath myself and cleaned up the kids' bathroom-- which really didn't need all that much work-- when I was done. As soon as I finish writing this I plan to have a shower in my own bathroom.

And I guess I'll keep my kids (none of whom are named Alice), and my husband (who looks nothing like Joel, especially in the hair category) and make due with my square Colonial house without either a west wing or a tower. But we Do have a library, so all is not lost. And I don't know who that blond girl in the catalog was, but she can't possibly be as wonderful as my real kids. Besides, since she was only slightly younger than me at the time, she is undoubtedly raising her own kids right now, perhaps also with cats, dogs and flooded basements.

Rebecca =)

Hurricane Hannah, Homeschool and Health

2008-09-06T05:54:00.000-07:00

One of my kids' vocabulary words this week was alliteration. thus the title. =)

On the hurricane front, we're getting rained on, but nothing serious. Dan (my brother) is in southern VA on the coast, and I suspect he's seeing more action than we are up here. My only hope? I'm praying for a dry basement. Although, considering that we have not really fixed anything yet, Einstein's definition of insanity comes to mind. "Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result." Yes... well...

We started homeschooling this week! With only four kids home now. The last time we had four kids living at home was the turn of the century. (Doesn't that sound ancient? Like we should have been riding in horse-drawn buggies and wearing long skirts!)

This year Josh is taking Latin online, Greek Mythology online, astronomy, Geometry/pre-calc, English, and is hoping to get a job. (He applied at Parkway Automotive and will probably have a job as soon as he turns 16.)

Bethany is taking astronomy, pre-calc, English online, French, History of the Ancient World, and Physical Science from BYU (university class). Hopefully also ASL from Jennifer H.

Peter and Naomi have all the usual classes, including French with BBC's Muzzy (wonderful!) and Song School Latin (very fun!).

And this year we are trying to actually do P.E. For anyone who knows me, yes... this is a stretch. But the kids are begging for active stuff. So we'll give it a try. We're going swimming once a week (Peter is taking swimming lessons, which he needs, and the others will do open swim during his lessons), we will try to hit the open gym, and I'm looking into a kids' track team in the area.

Which brings me to the Health bit. Naomi's EEG was normal, which does not mean she doesn't have epilepsy, it just means she didn't have a seizure during the test. (Which I already knew. I watched the test.) It does mean she is at a pretty low risk for developing other types of seizures. Some kids who have absance (or petit mal) seizures develop other types of seizures as they get older. Apparently the kids who go on to have have types are more likely to have seizures triggered during the EEG. So that's good news. And she is clearly outgrowing the absance seizures. So hopefully it will all just fade away.

One interesting bit (don't remember if I posted this or not... sorry if I did) is that 25% of all kids who are autistic also have epilepsy. When I first heard that, I thought "No way. I know a bunch of autistic people, and almost no one with epilepsy." But then I started counting, and guess what? Exactly 25% of the people I know who are on the autism spectrum, also have epilepsy. Weird, huh? I thought it was.

Peter has been sick this week. Coughing, coughing, coughing so much that it's hard for him to do much else. Sleeping and just laying on the couch a lot. And for the last two days having a low grade fever that gets up to 103/104 in the afternoons. He's also passing another kidney stone. Poor kid. And last night he threw up. I think from the kidney stone. All in all, he's not feeling well.

And I'm struggling to keep my blood sugar in the normal range. I apparently haven't been doing so well, and on Wednesday I spent a good chunk of the day in a confused state of semi consciousness, wandering around trying to make my brain work and wondering what was going on. I didn't see the obvious solution: Eat! After Mike talked to me on the phone he called back and told Peter to bring me a Vitamin Water. I couldn't figure out what to do with it, but Peter helped me out.

So I'm making a huge effort to get the wildly keeling ship back to a steady forward motion. I'm eating something small (crackers and cheese, a bit of meat and an apple slice, etc) every hour on the hour. Isn't it amazing how much better our bodies work when they have fuel? aahhh... the wonderful feeling of being able to complete a thought.... and still have energy left over to communicate the thought! =)

Happy Birthday to my sister, Polly!

Rebecca =)

Congratulations, Bethany! Way to go, Rachel!

2008-08-30T18:52:00.000-07:00

Bethany entered a writing contest recently in the Homeschooling magazine. The kids were given a starting sentence and had to write a story from it. I'd forgotten she entered, and then a package arrived in the mail for her. She opened it and said, "Hey! Hey! I won!" =) The prize was a book about the ocean. (Unrelated to the topic of the story.) Bethany said, "If they knew me, they would have chosen a different book." She's afraid of things that live in the deep.

So, another writer in the family. =) Good job, Bethany!

And in other news, Rachel did a very brave things and went out on her own to get an apartment, with no established friends as room mates, in a new part of town. She has an apartment, she has a computer, she's signed up for killer classes this semester, and she's showing a younger sister the ropes. Another brave person in the family. =) Excellent job, Rachel!

Rebecca =)

proud mom of 6 wonderful kids

DC/Hogwarts and life-changing days

2008-08-28T17:10:00.000-07:00

I took Elizabeth to the doctor the day before she flew out to BYU. It was a follow-up appointment with the endocrinologist, and it went about like all our doctor appointments lately. (See the post titled What DO They Do?)

We left home around 2:00 for a 3:30 appointment in DC, and somewhere around the Pentagon, things became a little weird. I've driven to this doctor before (it was a follow up, remember?) with No problems. MapQuest worked! Wonder of wonder and miracle of miracles! But this time...

I was supposed to turn right onto a street that, I swear, did not exist. After crossing the Potomac and doing a loop-de-loop I came back to try again. It still wasn't there. So we tried to just get over into the general area in DC where we wanted to be, and go from there. This plan ranks right up there with freeing the Iranian hostages back in the 70's. Suddenly, the roads of Washington DC sensed, through some ancient powers, that they had a lost car on their roads, and they took full advantage of the situation.

Streets suddenly changed from one name to another, in the blink of an eye, with no forewarning. We turned off of one street, onto another street, only to find ourselves still on the street we had just turned off of. We visited Reagan National Airport, the Mall, the Capitol building, Union Station, several scary neighborhoods in which minorities were NOT the minority, and thought we had things almost figured out-- we just needed to turn right and we'd be on the correct street-- when every street for miles decided to become One Way going left. We rolled down the window several times to ask what happened to Madison Ave. Or was it Massachusetts? the first guy told us it was behind us. We knew that. We just came from there. But why did it suddenly disappear? The next person--a large black woman in a very small knit tank top that she was trying to wear as a dress--just shook her head and chewed her gum loudly with her mouth open. I took that to mean, "I don't know where the street has gone." I called the doctor's office to ask for directions and to ask where the street had gone, and the receptionist said, "It should just continue on." I couldn't agree more.

And then I realized what was happening. I have always wanted to visit Hogwarts. But airfare to London is a bit pricey right now, and I'm not sure about the whole 9 3/4 bit. The Lord must have heard my unspoken wishes and given me a taste of the Hogwarts experience right here in DC. It was the only thing I could think of that made any sense. The moving staircases, the opening picture frames, and the secret passwords have nothing on our experiences driving in DC.

Sigh. We are so lucky to have such incredible experiences. Right here! No airfare needed. Although, I have to admit, meeting Dumbledore would have been great. But he's dead. So, DC will have to do.

On another note, my life has changed drastically in the past 24 hours. My older two girls have both gone to BYU. It was a big change a few years ago when Rachel left, and I cried. But this feels bigger. I think because they are both gone. The two babysitters, dinner-cookers, and mature girl friends that I live with. Both gone. And I feel all alone.

It didn't help that after dropping them off last night Mike and the other kids went to church and I was home... Alone. Completely Alone. I cleaned. And organized. But with a lot of tears.

And it didn't help that the basement was so Empty. When Rachel left, the furniture did not get rearranged. Bedrooms stayed the same. But now... the basement, instead of being a bedroom, is becoming a family room.

And this leads to another way in which my life is changing. The whole 4 1/2 years we have lived here, we have had--basically--one living space. The first floor of the house is, essentially, one big room. So if anyone wanted to practice the violin, or play the piano, or watch a movie, or have a friend over, it all happened in the same room where I was cooking dinner and someone was doing schoolwork, and another person was checking their email, and someone else was madly working on their paper that was due in 15 minutes while someone brushed the dog. Yes, we have had The Family Circus meets Enslaved by Ducks meets Cheaper by the Dozen all in one room for 4 1/2 years now. When suddenly...

We have another family room! I have not seen most of my children all day today. Even the four that still live here. They have been watching movies and playing games downstairs. Josh has had a friend over this evening, and it has not been a major stress factor. I am writing on my computer, and there are not 5 other conversations going on around me.

It is amazing what one more room can do. Truly Amazing.

Trying to visualize my life this fall is almost impossible. No older girls. A new family room. Josh not doing JROTC. Seminary closer to our house. And probably (ok, this one I have very mixed emotions about) no HTT this fall. It's like we moved-- except that the same stains are still on the carpet. Oh yes, and we still have to deal with the leaky basement. But other than that, my life has not changed so much since the last time we moved. Crazy.

Now, one last thing. Just FYI, this morning I wrote chapter two of a new novel I'm working on. I am still sad that my girls are not here, but writing 1200 words an hour makes a part of me feel happy. And this afternoon I mailed the first three chapters of Jacob's Peak to Dutton, along with 5 queries to agents for a different book. (And 6 boxes of life to Elizabeth at college) And I took Naomi to the neurologist for her EEG, after both of us being up all night so she could be sleep-deprived.

Book recommendation: The Dream of the Stone. I'm not finished with it yet, but if you like Madeline L'Engle, you'll like this. (I read A Wrinkle in Time at least once a year, usually more, from third grade until after I was married. Then a few ears later I read it to my kids.) It's strange, a good story, and fun to read.

A little bit of good news!

2008-08-25T17:38:00.000-07:00

When we were in the car this afternoon, Elizabeth asked if I'd seen the mail yet today. I said I hadn't, and she said I had a letter. I asked if it was a real letter or a rejection letter, and she said a rejection letter. "Some day I'm going to get something that's not a rejection letter," I said. And off we went to Costco to pick up boxes for the girls to mail their stuff.

In case you're wondering, rejection letters are easy to spot. They are written in my own handwriting, and the envelopes have been folded in thirds and then unfolded again. In this business of writing, not only do you ask for rejection, you pay the postage on it yourself.

So this evening I went to find my letter to log it into my computer where I keep track of where things are. But...

It wasn't a rejection letter! It was from Dutton Children's Books, requesting the first three chapters of The Other Side of Jacob's Peak! I had previously sent a brief query letter describing the book and my writing credentials. And they would like to see more! How kind of them! How happy for me! If nothing else, my query letter must have been well-written enough that they are willing to look at more. They must have very good taste.

A small step. But it is really very nice to open an envelope and find something other than a rejection letter!

Rebecca =)

whose day, previous to this letter, was really not going so well-- but things are looking up!

Breaking into Jamestown

2008-08-24T06:24:00.000-07:00

First of all, Happy Birthday Naomi! =) She's getting so grown up.

This weekend we went to Jamestown for an employee/volunteer picnic. We had to take two cars, since we only have small cars, and we have a large family. Mike, Josh and Peter left first and picked up my brother, Dan, on their way. I left later, after ELizabeth got done with work, planning to meet them there.

We got to Jamestown an hour and a half late (because of waiting for Elizabeth to get off work) and immediately suspected something was wrong. There were no cars in the parking lot. Surely they must have some employees showing up for the picnic? I figured perhaps there was an employee parking lot I didn't know about. We drove around and found a lot with a few cars, some parking spaces marked "Employees only" and two catering vans. I figured that their employee picnics must not be very well attended, and we got out to try to find a way in.

All the building doors were locked, but one employee door opened when Elizabeth tried it, so we went in. The place was deserted as far as I could see, but I figured they were probably down by the ships, on the grass. We walked past the empty buildings, into the deserted Indian village, through the old settlement, feeling very much like the characters in Into The Woods wandering through the empty, cursed villages after the Pied Piper has taken everyone away.

By this time we all really needed to go find a bathroom, and just past the silent settlement we saw signs to restrooms. Hurray!

But they were locked. WE could see down to the ships, and there was not a soul in sight. Clearly the picnic was not here. As we turned away from the locked bathrooms, an alarm began screeching. I turned around to see Bethany shutting a sliding door and looking surprised. Oops!

Suddenly a security guard came huffing along the path from the direction of the ships, waving his arms. We just stood there, and I was reminded of my mother breaking into Monticello. Apparently breaking into historic sights is becoming something of a family tradition. We all have legacies we leave for our children. Some are just more unusual than others.

I didn't give him a chance to ask anything. "We're looking for the employee picnic," I yelled at him above the wailing sirens, before he could catch his breath.

He shook his head, wobbling his many chins and looked at us. "It's at the CSC."

"The what?"

He pointed off in some direction. "Down 199, past the green 7-Eleven."

Ummm... "I'm from northern Virginia. I don;t know where that is."

He pulled out his walkie-talkie and told someone everything was alright, and to please turn off the alarm. And we explained that we were just trying to use the restroom when we accidently pulled open the wrong door.

He kindly unlocked the restroom and let us relieve ourselves before ushering off the property.

We eventually did find the CSC, past the green 7-Eleven, and enjoyed barbecue sandwiches, a giant slide, a hay ride and the live band. It was good to see Dan, and the kids had enough fun to probably make the 6 hours of driving worth it. Mike and Josh turned around the next morning and went back to sail the Godspeed. They came home slightly burnt and worn out, but happy.

Have a wonderful Sunday. This would be a great day to look at www.mormon.org. Or www.lds.org. For scriptures this morning I read part of the account of the Jaredites who left the Tower of Babel and were led to the Americas. I read the bit about them taking honey bees and building their barges and wondering if they were really going to have to "Cross these great waters in darkness". Don't worry. They didn't have to. It's a pretty cool story, and so ancient it feels.....ancient. I love really, really ancient things, stories etc.

Ok. Gotta get ready for church.

Rebecca =)

Odds Fish, M' Dear

2008-08-20T17:04:00.000-07:00

We've been enjoying the Scarlet Pimpernel lately, and Peter can do a wonderful Percy Blakney impersonation. =) If you haven't read the book, I can almost guarantee you'll love it. The movie is wonderful, but the book! It is apparently The Original spy romance novel, with fast action, a lovely romance, a brave heroine, and lots of laughs. I cannot recommend it highly enough.

But lately the phrase, "Odds fish, m'dear" has been going through my head in reference, not to Sir Percy Blakney, but to Naomi.

As I think I mentioned in a previous post, she fainted recently, and our doctor thought perhaps it was not a "regular" faint, but an absence (or petit mal) seizure. I thought he was imagining things. But I Googled it anyway out of curiosity.

Odds fish, m'dear! Everything I read was a perfect description of one of Naomi's unusual behaviors she's had since we adopted her! In stressful situations, she suddenly goes blank, eyes staring, face slack, unresponsive. We call it the dead fish look. And it is apparently, most likely a petit mal seizure.

Since she has had so many other... umm... shall we say... odd behaviors... I did not think anything much of her dead fish look. It's not as odd as some of the other things she's done. I just chalked it up to Naomi-- an unusual girl.

I had no idea it was a form of epilepsy.

Anyway, she goes in next week for an EEG in hopes of confirming the diagnosis. We'll see.

And then, yesterday, we got the official diagnosis of PDD-NOS, or atypical autism. Also for Naomi. Something I read suggested Mike and I may want counseling to deal with the prospect of raising an autistic child. My thought? I am WAY past being stressed about autism. This is an improvement! She's getting better! =)

(For anyone reading this who does not know our history-- -- it's a long story. Very long.)

Have a wonderful day! or night! If you happen to be in Nepal, thank you for the nice long email! =)

Rebecca =)

Stories

2008-08-19T10:35:00.000-07:00

First, a quote, which I found on Shannon Hale's blog, and which she got from G.K. Chesterton.

"We all like astonishing tales because they touch the nerve of the ancient instinct of astonishment. This is proved by the fact that when we are very young children we do not need fairy tales: we only need tales. Mere life is interesting enough. A child of seven is excited by being told that Tommy opened a door and saw a dragon. But a child of three is excited by being told that Tommy opened a door. Boys like romantic tales; but babies like realistic tales- because they find them romantic. In fact, a baby is about the only person, I should think, to whom a modern realistic novel could be read without boring him.

"This proves that even nursery tales only echo an almost pre-natal leap of interest and amazement. These tales say that apples were golden only to refresh the forgotten moment when we found that they were green. They make rivers run with wine only to make us remember, for one wild moment, that they run with water."

"The Ethics of Elfland," Orthodoxy, G.K. Chesterton

I have been writing down for the first time, and polishing, a tale I made up when I was about 16. I told it as a bed time story for my little sisters, Emily and Elizabeth, when they were 3 and I would lay in between them on their double bed in Morocco and scratch their backs while I made up and told stories. I made my little brother, Dan, the hero. The story is called Prince Daniel, and since I know it so well, having lived with it for many years now, it took very little time to write. I am thinking I may try illustrating it, as well. Probably an exercise only, since picture books are not selling right now, but I can learn from exercises. No learning is lost. And perhaps someday, when the picture book market picks up again, I'll be able to do something with it.

I've also been turning over, researching, pondering and writing out plots for a novel set around 2000 BC. It's a time period that has always fascinated me. We'll see if anything comes of it. I have a character in mind, and I know this is when she lives. I just am not finding a lot of information on what people wore, ate, and did during the day. Probably for very good reasons.

And I've been putting the finishing touches on another novel, very different from anything else I've ever written. Since my "new" refurbished printer showed up in the mail yesterday, I can now print and mail stuff again. Yay! =)

Elizabeth is spending several hours a day trying to get a reliable copy of Saving Lizzy Fish burned for the Sundance Film Festival.

Rebecca =)

who hopes to go read Rapunzel's Revenge, a graphic novel by Shannon Hale that just came out. Assuming she can get it away from her kids.

What we've been up to...

2008-08-14T17:50:00.001-07:00

I haven't had time on the computer lately-- other than first thing in the morning, when I write and do not allow myself to access the internet, lest I be sucked into something unforeseen and not find my way back to my manuscripts for several hours-- because life has been too busy.

Our basement flooded. Again. And the smell from it has been knocking us out for a few days. We finally emptied Everything out of the storage room (no small task. Thank you children!) and found moldy dry wall behind food storage buckets and the shoe shelf. Ugh. Joshua cut off the offending dry wall pieces, and we have the dehumidifier, the mega-air purifier, and a big fan running 24/7. I think we need to scrub everything down with bleach, then seal the walls and windows-- but I'm not sure that will be enough. This has apparently been happening with every major rain storm since the house was built in the 70's.

While the kids were emptying the basement, I took Naomi to the doctor. She haas not ben feeling well lately, and a few days ago she fainted. I decided we ought to at least attempt to figure out what's going on. (See my previous post titled What DO they do? for my thoughts on doctors lately. No offense intended, doctor friends and relatives.) Our Doctor said he doesn't think it's dehydration, (my thought) and he ordered some blood work (mono, lead, CBC and so on) and recommended visits to a cardiologist (heart problems?) and neurologist (petit mal seisures?) I'll keep you posted. I still think its just dehydration, possibly some low blood sugar, since she fainted first thing in the morning right after getting out of bed.

I've been trying to print some query letters, among other things, but our printer is out for the count. There must needs be opposition in all things. (2 Nephi 2:11) Every time Rachel tries to get her Sunday School lessons together, something happens to make it difficult, if not impossible. Last weekend she tried to print the lesson, and the printer gave up the ghost.

Thanks to our friend Jill (hi Jill!), we have info on a cool homeschool writing contest. I am SO excited! The prizes are to have your writing reviewed and critiqued by well-known authors, including Lois Lowry. Very cool. The kids are all working on things to submit. And since there is a homeschool parent's category, I am, too! =)

Mike has been working 15 hour days lately, and he just got home. I'm so surprised to see him! I think I'll go ask how his day was.

Rebecca =)

Great Books!

2008-08-14T17:38:00.000-07:00

I've read a couple of books lately I just have to rave about.

Do Hard Things by Alex and Brett Harris

Two homeschool brothers encourage other teens to rebel against the low expectations society places on them. They cite examples from history and modern times of teens who made difficult choices to do hard things, and so made a difference in the world. They host a web site (TheRebelution.com) dedicated to teens encouraging other teens in doing difficult, good things. The book inspired me-- as an adult-- to get up off the couch and do hard things. I'm making it required reading for my kids-- who are not balking, since it's pretty fun to read. =)

A Curse as Dark as Gold by Elizabeth C. Bunce

This is a retelling of Rumplestiltskin that had me holding my breath and whispering advice to the characters. A skillfully woven story set in England in the opening days of the industrial revolution. It's been a long time since a book has gripped me like this one did.

I Did It! =)

2008-08-05T13:36:00.000-07:00

No, I didn't get a call from a publisher. Darn it all. But I DID figure out how to put a slide show on my blog. (You should all be impressed, in case you wonder-- except Dan. But hey! I'm not Dan!) The only problem... I haven't figured out how to get it up toward the top of the blog. And I have to go to the library right now, so I'm done fiddling with this for a while.

So... Please feel free to scroll to the bottom of the blog and see my cute kids. Just FYI, since this was an experiment, I just uploaded some rather random photos. There was no rhyme or reason.

Rebecca =)
who is feeling so technical. No laughing, Dan. =)

What DO they do?

2008-08-05T03:46:00.000-07:00

First of all, Happy Birthday to Bethany! =)

Now, I have a serious question. Please tell me if you have an answer. And please take a look at the new survey.

What do doctors do? Do they ever actually diagnose anyone? With anything? I mean, if a person shows up in a doctor's office with unusual symptoms, but without already knowing what the diagnosis is, do they ever leave knowing what the problem really is?

We did have one good doctor. Once. Years ago. His name was Dr. Cosgrove and he was a pediatrician in Salt Lake City. No matter why we were in his office-- ear aches, Legos in the nose, or heart failure-- he would pull out his little note pad that was preprinted with a checklist of things for him to examine, note, and tell us. "Heart and lungs are clear, pulses are strong, ears show no sign of redness, eyes look good..." etc. etc. It took only a couple of minutes, but occasionally he caught something during this. "Did you know Joshua's right eardrum is about to break?" As Joshua is climbing over the doctor to get a look out the window, grinning from one infected ear to another, yelling, "Truck! Truck!" at a passing dump truck. No. I didn't know that. We came in for something else totally unrelated.

And then there was Dr.Cosgrove's unorthodox idea that mothers were the best judges of how sick their children were. Shocking! He once told me, "My diagnosis needs to match the mother's anxiety level. If I find a mild ear infection, and the mother's concern level is a 9 out of 10, I've missed something. On the other hand, if I find something very serious, and the mother's concern level is low, something is wrong-- either with my diagnosis or at home."

How unusual is that? How ingenious? How revolutionary it could be if others adopted the same idea!

But, Dr.Cosgrove aside, my question remains. What do doctors do? I mean, other than say, "I don't know," and remind you to fork over your co-payment as you leave.

Last year Peter was in the ER. He had a fever of 104 that wouldn't go down even with Tylenol and ibuprofen together and cold compresses. He wasn't drinking, and hadn't been for about a day. I knew he needed IV fluids, so I took him in.

The doctor ran a couple of tests, didn't find anything, and came to give us our discharge papers-- all without any IV fluids. I was aghast! I pointed out that his fever had not gone down, his eyes were dry, he was not totally coherent, and I would like him to get some fluids!

The doctor brought Peter a cup of water and told me to prop him up so he could drink it, which I did. The doctor said, "See? He's taking fluids. If he has trouble keeping them down, bring him back in." Peter promptly threw up the water all over the doctor's pants and shoes. I just about shouted, "Bravo, Peter!" But I refrained. The doctor looked down at himself and said, "Here are his discharge papers. Sign here."

My mother had a very good idea, later, for what I should have done at that point. I should have said, "If you'll sign a paper stating that you refused IV fluids when I though that was what he needed, we'll leave."

But I didn't think of that. So I took Peter home. We found out in the next couple of days that he had pneumonia in both lungs, influenza type A, and mono. All three. At the same time. And I now am quite certain he had kidney stones that day, too. But the doctor couldn't be bothered to find any of that out.

Check you in, check a couple of tests, check you out, check the box. Check please! Next patient.

The reason this comes up right now is that I took Elizabeth to the doctor yesterday to get the results of her (second) sleep study. The doctor is a pulmonologist who specializes in sleep problems. She had ordered the sleep study because Elizabeth has been so tired for the last couple of years that she's having a hard time functioning. The sleep study showed that Elizabeth woke up (micro-arousals) 25 times an hour. That's a lot. Even for someone who has wires glued on their head and is sleeping in a hospital. Her sleep stages were not normal, and there were extra waves of a certain type in stage two sleep. The doctor said E's oxygen and CO2 levels were fine, though. So she had no idea what was wrong. Something. But she doesn't know what. So good-bye!

Two sleep studies have now confirmed that Elizabeth is Really tired. Wonderful. We already knew that. But no doctors involved feel any responsibility to find out why?

Just like Rachel's muscle problems (constant jerking), Bethany's toe problem (it turns white with apparently no circulation sometimes), my heart problem (LBBB-- the electrical system apparently quit functioning properly recently), Peter's fever and dehydration problem, any of my kids fainting (which Naomi did this week-- but I'm not taking her in-- and Josh and Elizabeth have done in the past) and many of my siblings problems (medical =) I mean).

Does anyone ever go into a doctor and walk away with more info than they brought with them? Do doctors ever find out what's wrong? Why on Earth do we pay these people? Couldn't there be a system as I've heard China used to have? You pay the doctor regularly when you are well. If you become sick, you quit paying your doctor until you are well again. I think it's a brilliant plan. That would be the best health care reform of all. Perhaps I'll see if some politician will go for it.

In the mean time, I think I'm just done with doctors for a while. The seriously toxic prescription the neurologist handed Rachel, with assurances that the only possible side effect would be some weight gain (liar), combined with the complete lack of useful information all around, lead me to believe we should just say home and try to figure things out ourselves.

Rebecca

who will post about the wonderful book she's reading soon! =)

Rejection

2008-08-01T08:23:00.001-07:00

The mail man rang the bell a few minutes ago because we had so much mail it wouldn't fit in the box. As soon as I saw the large brown package, I knew. My manuscript was returned.

Kate Fletcher (associate editor at Candlewick) included a nice, personal letter in which she made several comments on The Other Side of Jacob's Peak about what she likes and doesn't like, and then concludes with, "Unfortunately, I don't think this is a good fit for Candlewick.... the current economic situation... I'll have to pass on this one.... tastes and opinions vary greatly from editor to editor, so I encourage you to submit this elsewhere."

Sigh.

Ok. Time to pull out the Children's Writer's and Illustrator's Market and decide on other editors to send it to. Perhaps also some agents to query.

My brain knows that almost no one publishes any book with the first editor they send it to. And personal letters are rare in the publishing world. I should be happy. I should think, Wow! she took time to write to me! That's awesome!

But for some reason, at the moment-- a whopping 5 minutes after reading the rejection letter--I'm feeling-- well-- rejected. Kind of as if the guy I was dating, who I thought might be about to propose, said he'd like to just be friends.

Sigh. (Again.)

I am working on another novel. It doesn't have a name yet-- not even a working name. And I still like Jacob's Peak. I'll send it out again. Some day I'll publish a book. Some day.

Rebecca =)

P.S.

There is a line in a song (Life's a Dance) that fits here. "Been knocked down by the slamming door, picked myself and came back for more." There is a heavy dose of determination and refusal to take no for an answer, (aka, stubbornness) necessary in this life. Especially if you ever intent to publish a book. Just for the record, I did publish a play last year! =)

Dancing for the Fish, and Soggy Basements

2008-07-30T06:23:00.001-07:00

We have two Beta fish. If you've seen Saving LiZZy Fish, you've seen them. One of them was double cast with my daughter, Elizabeth. =) They are both blue, and quite beautiful, as beta fish usually are. One is name Lizzy and the other is Popo.

The fish belong to Elizabeth, and she usually feeds them herself. But she's been nannying every day for a couple of weeks, so other family members have been stepping up. Literally, in Peter's case.

He pulls over a chair to the tall cabinet on top of which the fish reside in their little plastic containers and steps up to be able to see them. But, unlike the rest of us, Peter does not just feed the fish. He has a captive audience. Not only do the fish love to watch whoever is standing in front of them-- probably hoping for another food pellet-- but since they have no eyelids, they can't even blink. And Peter loves this. He does magic tricks for the fish, holding a small ball in his had and passing it slowly before their staring eyes, he quickly tucking it behind his back, holding out his now empty hands and exclaims, "Ta-da!" He sings songs he makes up on the spot, and dances, wiggling his little hips and waving his arms above his head. He tells jokes and generally provides about the best stand-up comedy I've ever seen. The fish have yet to clap, but I'm sure they love it as much as I do. After all, they haven't missed a performance yet!

Now, the Soggy Basement part. Ugh.

It rained on Sunday while we were in church, and by the time we got home the power was out and the basement was flooded. But unlike other times when the basement has flooded (yes, this happens fairly regularly) the water was not coming in the window wells. Since the power was out, we assumed the problem was that the sump pump had stopped working. (That may still prove to be part of the problem.) But, on closer investigation, the kids announced that the water appeared to be coming from a huge blue water storage container in the corner of the basement.

Now, I thought this was a little odd. What are the chances that this heavy, thick-walled thing would start leaking during a rain storm when the power goes out? And then stop leaking when the power comes back on? Pretty slim. Yet, I could see for myself that the corner with the storage container was wet, and the area around the sump pump was dry.

(Ok, slightly separate rant: According to all I've read online about sump pumps in the past few days, the basement floor should be slanted ever so slightly toward the sump pump, so any water from other places gets pumped out. That would be logical. But ours slants away from the pump. Really. Water puddles up all around the other walls and the furnace, but we have to push it uphill to get it back to the pump. I can not get over the amazing skills of the master craftsmen who built this house.)

So, several ponderings later, and I conclude the sump pump did stop working, and the increased water around our foundation leaked in through the walls behind the blue water storage container.

Wonderful.

Not only does our pump apparently not have a back-up power source (something that must be remedied), but the foundation is apparently cracked enough to be pouring gallons of water into the basement. And this is apart from the window well problem we were already aware of and working to fix.

I am so ready to move to a secluded island and live off coconuts and pineapple and teach my children to roast fish on a little fire behind the hut and do native dances. Peter's got the dancing part down pretty well already. And think of the laundry we wouldn't have to wash and fold. We could all just wear grass skirts. And never have a flooded basement again.

Rebecca =)

writing from suburbia-- not a remote island, unfortunately

Intelligence

2008-07-21T20:13:00.000-07:00

The test of intelligence is not how much we know how to do, but how we behave when we don't know what to do. - John Holt

Bethany is on the computer right now doing her math for tomorrow. (We do school-light over the summer.) She's got a computer program called Descartes' Cove that includes 6 CDs of math problems. She's been stumped on a problem, working it out over and over and getting the same answer each time. She just realized what she did wrong and is working it out again. And it's still not working.

I am really working on not showing my kids how to do things, but on letting them find out how to find the answers themselves. Far too often they come to me asking questions, and I tell them the answer. (silly me!) Clearly, they can't do this their whole lives. And yet, it's so easy! Just ask mom! She knows. She'll tell me. And I won't have to look any further. College research papers will be a nightmare at this rate. Not to mention life.

So Research Rehab 101 is the other name for our house this summer. Ask a question-- and don't get an answer! At least not from Mom. =)

I heard Amy Barr from the Lukeion Project speak recently on preparing homeschoolers (and other teens) for college. She had some interesting points. (My notes from her talk are below) She and her husband are college professors and polled other university professors on what bugs them about incoming freshmen. The number one response was....

Parents calling the professors! Can you believe it? Parents calling to say, "Johnny was sick and couldn't hand in his paper. Can he have an extension?" Ok. I'm not that bad.

Her list of unrealistic thoughts homeschoolers (and others) have about college are:

-The most important thing is to get accepted

Fact: 50% of kids who begin college do not graduate. Getting in is the easy part.

-Mom and Dad are still my teacher and principal.

See the number one thing that bugs professors about incoming freshmen. (And these are not just homeschoolers whose parents are calling. These are freshmen across the board.)

-Time management is optional.

Parents: How to teach time management: Don't manage their time! Let them be late, fail, make mistakes and get embarrassed. Butter now than later.

-Schedules are flexible (You can see where we would get these ideas as homeschoolers)

Parents: Teach "Project Skills" -or- "How not to Procrastinate"

-Give lots of long term projects

-Make a syllabus for your homeschool classes

-Assign consequences that matter to the kids

-No nagging! (AKA reminding) Hand them the syllabus and don't mention it again.

-No shifting deadlines, even if they are sick. Really.

-No reduction in chores when due date approaches.

-Big rewards if the get the project in on time

-Projects may need to be objectively evaluated by someone other than Mom

Kids: In college, something is always better than nothing. Hand in what you have. 50% is better than a 0%.

-Creative writing is good enough.

Fact: The number two thing that bugged professors about incoming freshmen is that nobody knows how to write a research paper. Amaze your professors. Write well!

-Data is cheap. They won't be impressed that you can Google something.

-Cheating is easy and widespread.

-They want to see how well you can evaluate the data you find and express a complex conclusion from the data you've gathered.

-Failure is not an option

Fact: Oh, yes it is!

Thing that bugs professors number 3: Kids have failed to fail. They have been praised for everything they have ever done, made every team they try out for, and have never been blessed with the opportunity to figure out what to do after they've failed.

-Failure comes to everyone. Academic failure comes to everyone. You will not get A's on everything you do.

-Failure is paralyzing to kids who have never experienced it.

-Practice some failure daily.

Parents: Turn up the heat. Do not shield your kids from failure. Demonstrate healthy recovery. Shielding kids from failure causes low self esteem. Never do your kids work for them. Give them the gift of success and failure, both. There is a current crisis in the failure to fail. Kids are not growing up-- are not experiencing growth-- because they are paralyzed by a fear of failure.

Praise determination, not smartness!!

-Success is determined by giftedness.

Fact: Success in college is determined by determination. Not giftedness.

Quick Quiz:

Which is most memorable to a college professor?

-The silent, straight A student on the front row?

-The constant question asker in the back?

-The office hour visitor?

Answer: Not the first one. If you don't go see your professor at least four times a semester, you have let your parents down. Pop in and say, "I have an idea for my paper. What do you think?" Your professors will love you, hire you, name their kids after you! Ask questions! They will know someone was listening and will go home singing.

When time comes for professors to write letters of recommendation, they will think of the office visitor first, the question asker second, and will wonder who the silent straight-A student on the front row is.

Those are my notes from Amy's talk. As Josh said, "She's a great teacher!" (He was sad that I got to meet her in person while he was at EFY. He takes her history classes online and loves them. I love the skills she teaches-- oh yes, and the history, too.)

Now, if I can just apply everything I learned... Like I said, Research Rehab 101 this summer.

Rebecca =)

Book recommendation of the day: Olivia, by Ian Falconer. I don't know why I have never read this before, but for some reason I didn't. Until yesterday. Then I read it, and read it again, and read it again! It is wonderful! I started laughing today when I was driving as I remembered the line, "And moved the cat". =) And the picture after she spends time in the sun! LOL! If you haven't read it, take 5 minutes to do so. And then another 5 to read it again. It's a delight.

Oh, sweet!

2008-07-20T13:18:00.000-07:00

I just read an article on Science News for Kids (see link at the bottom of the blog) about honey as a cough suppressant. According to a recent study, honey may be a *better* cough suppressant than dextromethorphan(DM) or codeine. Oh, happy day! =) And oh that my parents had had this info when I was little.

I have particular sympathies with any child made to swallow a spoonful of cough medicine. For some unexplained reason I coughed, and Coughed, and COUGHED from about October to April while I was growing up, and cough syrup played a hefty part in my diet. I would have given just about anything to swallow a spoonful of honey instead.

I have often wondered what I would do with a time machine if I had one. I now know one stop I would make-- 1358 Almond Ave, mid 1970's, to drop off a hint on sweet cough remedies.

Rebecca =)

Clearing the Cobwebs, or Carnage in the Kitchen

2008-07-19T11:30:00.000-07:00

We have, as some of you may know, 3 cats, a dog, and two beta fish. (Oh! I should include the link to the Saving Lizzy Fish Preview! Check the bottom of the blog for the added link. It's cool!) But recently, a new creature has come to live in our kitchen window. It's a spider, and since I don't want to open the kitchen window and remove the glass between myself and it (serious arachniphobia), and from the outside there is a screen in the way, it is still there. And it is collecting a food storage of june bugs.

When we first moved here I thought june bugs were cockroaches, and I was totally grossed out by them. They flew in our front door in the summer! Who ever heard of cockroaches flying in your front door by the dozens? Ugh. I set traps, I cleaned everything like you would not believe, I gagged and squashed them, and still they were here. Then one of Bethany's friends stood on our front porch one night and said, "Hey, look! A june bug!" I stared at her. "What did you call it?" "A june bug." "They're not cockroaches?" She just looked at me like I was nuts. I didn't grow up here, ok? We don't have bugs like this in Minnesota!

So, now I know what they are. But they are still gross. And the eight-legged creature in our kitchen window is killing, devouring and storing them. Ugh! Really ugh! It makes me shudder. But still, I can't get up the courage to open the kitchen window and deal with the whole situation. I am such a wimp.

The other cobwebs I'm dealing with are the mental type. My brian feels So fuzzy lately. It's like I've been drugged. But I can't think of who would be doing that. (Any confessions?) But really, my eyes are fuzzy, my thoughts are fuzzy, I feel like I am struggling to stay awake, my limbs are weak, and I forget everything. I was also craving berries. So I bought several of those larger containers of blueberries, strawberries and blackberries. There are no raspberries available in the area. They are my favorite. I ate and ate berries, and for a few days my head cleared. Isn't that weird? What on earth would there be in berries that would do that? I don't think it's the antioxidants. I don't think my brain gets rusty that fast. But maybe I'm wrong.

Anyway, now we're out of berries again, and my mental cobwebs are coming back. Perhaps I should go get some more.

Some things I've found, besides berries, that help various things are:

-Drinking at least one small bottle of Vitamin Water a day helps me not feel like I'm bout to pass out, and to not see stars.

-Taking a fish oil a day along with a good multivitamin helps me not get sick. When I stop taking them regularly I get the next passing round of the flu or nasty cold.

-Exercising helps me feel more awake and happy.

-Reading scriptures daily helps me not be a wicked witch, and to make good choices.

-Limiting how much white bread and sugar I eat helps me not be so sleepy.

-Practicing Yoga Nidra as I'm falling asleep helps me sleep better and feel more awake in the morning.

-Stretching daily, especially my back, helps me not to hurt all over.

-Spending a little bit of time daily in the sun helps me be happy and awake.

Now the real questions are... Aren't these all things everyone should just be doing all the time? and what would possess me to ever not do them?

Yes. and I don't know.

Today, BTW, is Rachel's 20th birthday!

Happy Birthday Rachel!

We're about to go to the park. (Exercise and sunshine, both. I already read my scriptures today and I'll take a vitamin and a fish oil before we go.)

-Rebecca Pi

Book recommendation of the day: Wildwood Dancing, by Juliet Marillier. Five adventurous sisters... Four dark creatures... Three magical gifts... Two forbidden lovers... One enchanted frog... Magic, daring, betrayal, and true love. It's a fun read, although not the best written book I've ever read, the story is so fun it makes up for it.