When Gary was bishop, he met a couple (Dave and Marti) who he found out were related to some long-time-ago friends of ours. Since Gary got to know them fairly well while he was bishop, I got to know them a little bit too. Dave is SO awesome. He looks JUST like a short Robert De Niro with less hair. Marti had cancer years ago and had a recurrence. She thought she had it beat but unfortunately it came back and it has spread. She is in the end stages now and is at home rather than in the hospital. She and Dave never married, although they’ve been together for years and Dave has asked her before. Well, on Friday he asked her again and to his surprise she said yes this time. The wedding was planned for this last Monday.
Saturday, just as we were unloading the car after a trip to Sam’s club, Gary got a call from Dave and answered it, “Hi David, how are you doing?” After a few moments he said, “I’m on my way.” I asked, “What’s up?” He said, “I don’t know, but Dave’s crying.” A couple of hours later I texted him to see if he was okay, and he texted back “yes, still breathing.” Apparently she had stopped breathing and Dave had lost it. (No wonder!) He came home about an hour after that. Sunday went fairly uneventfully, and the wedding was planned for about 5:00 on Monday. About 1:00 on Monday, Gary called to let me know the details of when to go over to Dave and Marti’s house and to see if I could go over early to help out a little and I asked him if anyone had thought to get Marti a bouquet. He said no, and I told him, “Every bride should have a bouquet.” I stopped at the supermarket on the way over (it was about 3:00 by then) to see what I could get. This was the same chain that did Carolyn’s wedding flowers so I was hopeful.
When I got to the floral counter, there wasn’t anyone there, so I was looking around a little when the floral manager came back from lunch. (She was carrying her empty Tupperware with her, with her coat over her arm.) She asked if anyone was helping me and I said no, not yet. Then she asked what I needed and I started to tell her that I had an unusual request. As I was trying to figure out how to tell her what I wanted, of course I started to get all teary-eyed. (Since I get emotional every time I see so much as a PICTURE of my grandkids, that shouldn’t be a surprise…) Anyway, I said, “Let me just tell you what’s going on.” So I explained the whole story, leaving out any identifying info of course.
By the time I finished telling her what was going on so she knew WHY I needed a bouquet with so little notice, she was obviously touched and said, “How about roses?” I said, “Roses will be perfect.” She went to the display case and selected a bunch of “rainbow roses,” a couple of bunches of baby’s breath, and came back to the counter and created a bouquet that was large enough that it was obviously a bride’s bouquet but small enough that it wasn’t going to overwhelm a sick bed. It was tied with white tulle and packaged up so I could drive to the house with them. She said, “I’m only going to charge you for the roses.” It cost $20.
When I got to the car I sat and cried and thought about how amazing it is that people seem to rise to the occasion when there is a need. And I knew that I needed to get the crying over with, because no matter how sad I was that this might be the day she died, it was also Marti's wedding day and I had to pretend that was all I was thinking about. Anyway, after I managed to get my emotions in check I drove over to the house and gave Marti her bouquet. I helped Dave clean up the house a little (bathroom, kitchen, that kind of thing) because there were quite a few people who were going to be there considering it was such a hurried affair. Dave was really grateful for the help, but I think more than that he was grateful that his beloved Marti was being treated as a bride, not a patient. Doesn’t every woman deserve that on her wedding day? It was so touching when the bishop said, “You may now kiss your bride.” Dave didn’t see a woman with a ski cap on, wearing a bathrobe, who couldn’t sit up and who barely had strength to hold her bouquet. He saw his new wife, and his kiss was as tender and sweet as it could be as he knelt by the bed. And afterward he was positively beaming, for the next hour referring to “his wife” as many times as he could work the words into his conversations with others who stopped by to wish them well. (Marty was exhausted by now and had fallen asleep.)
Before the ceremony Dave asked Gary and me to be the witnesses, so we would sign the marriage certificate. After the ceremony just as I was about to sign the certificate Gary pulled me aside and said, “I know you’d like to sign, but do you mind if I talk to Dave and see how he feels about having his cousin and Marti’s son sign instead? It’s important to have family involved in this kind of thing.” At first I thought, “Aww! I want to sign!” But then I thought, “he’s right.” For one thing, years from now Dave and his family won’t know who the heck I am, but they will always know who Marti’s son is. And Marti and her son and Dave had had some problems in the past and having him sign the certificate is a positive thing for them. So really, what does it matter to me? I had the honor of being asked, I don’t NEED to sign. One of the many things I love about Gary is that he does things for the RIGHT reason.
One thing I learned from this weekend is that I have NOTHING to complain about. I wish I didn't have to be reminded so often.
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Ten Things...
Ten things you don't know about me. This will NOT be easy because I have a big mouth so pretty much everything about me is known. There, that's one thing that you didn't about me, right? HAH! Nope, doesn't count. Okay, so I think I'll have to settle for ten things that may not necessarily be common knowlege, although there may be a few people on the planet that are aware of one or two of them.
1. I am scared of hoarders. Now and again I catch a glimpse of those hoarder shows and I break out into a cold sweat, get a little sick to my stomach, and I get an almost irresistable urge to declutter something. Usually I am drawn to Gary's office at those horrible times. This makes Gary extremely nervous. :)
2. I am becoming very anemic and I'm not sure how to fix that. Iron pills haven't helped me in the past, only iron shots have and I don't really want to do that again. :::sigh:::
3. I like to curl my hair with socks. Two are sufficient, which means that now that Gary's mickey mouse socks have holes in them, they are mine. :)
4. I have several cooking specialties that I am famous for, if only in my own mind. :) One of my specialties is blueberry pancakes, and anyone who has tasted them will not argue with me, they are amazing. Feather light, and you could probably eat a dozen of them.
5. One time Gary hurt my feelings (while I was pregnant with Carolyn) and I didn't match up his socks again for fifteen years. (However, his sock drawer was ALWAYS full of clean, unmatched socks. REALLY full. And stirred up.) I occasionally regret holding a grudge that long, but on the other hand, Gary has become much more careful about insulting pregnant women.
6. I don't have a very good sense of direction, and regardless of what my policeman-son thinks, it IS possible to drive down the runway at Lowry Airforce base when you're looking for the Cherry Creek Mall.
7. When I am really, REALLY mad I occasionally swear. I try really hard not to, though, because it makes me feel guilty and it scares the dog.
8. I wash my bathroom sink nearly every night. I would probably say that this is obsessive-compulsive. I NEED to see that shine. I try to do it AFTER Gary has brushed his teeth. (Althrough thankfully, he is a tidy spitter.) Since I do it so often, I don't normally need anything harsh to clean it.
9. Gary thinks this next one is werid, but I prefer putting away the dishes in the dishwasher right after they are clean, while the rest of the kitchen is clean too. I absolutely HATE to put them away right before I need to put in a new load of dishes. If I have not put them away while they're still warm, they don't feel as clean to me. Okay, maybe that IS a little bit weird.
10. Okay, this next one is a real secret, something I'll bet no one at all knows. I really like going to Walt Disney World. :) I like to go with my husband, who is my best friend, because being there with him reminds me why I married him in the first place and shows me how easy it will be to spend the rest of my life with him. Going with my kids is great, especially back in the day when I took them one at a time so I could spend quality time with them, not easy to do with six kids. I also love to go with my sister, because then we get to kids again ourselves. It's also fun to go with friends and spend time reliving the past and also making new memories. I even enjoy going by myself. There is no bad way to go to Walt Disney World, but of course the absolute best is with my grandbabies.
Ta DA! Ten things no one knew about me. :) (sorta...)
1. I am scared of hoarders. Now and again I catch a glimpse of those hoarder shows and I break out into a cold sweat, get a little sick to my stomach, and I get an almost irresistable urge to declutter something. Usually I am drawn to Gary's office at those horrible times. This makes Gary extremely nervous. :)
2. I am becoming very anemic and I'm not sure how to fix that. Iron pills haven't helped me in the past, only iron shots have and I don't really want to do that again. :::sigh:::
3. I like to curl my hair with socks. Two are sufficient, which means that now that Gary's mickey mouse socks have holes in them, they are mine. :)
4. I have several cooking specialties that I am famous for, if only in my own mind. :) One of my specialties is blueberry pancakes, and anyone who has tasted them will not argue with me, they are amazing. Feather light, and you could probably eat a dozen of them.
5. One time Gary hurt my feelings (while I was pregnant with Carolyn) and I didn't match up his socks again for fifteen years. (However, his sock drawer was ALWAYS full of clean, unmatched socks. REALLY full. And stirred up.) I occasionally regret holding a grudge that long, but on the other hand, Gary has become much more careful about insulting pregnant women.
6. I don't have a very good sense of direction, and regardless of what my policeman-son thinks, it IS possible to drive down the runway at Lowry Airforce base when you're looking for the Cherry Creek Mall.
7. When I am really, REALLY mad I occasionally swear. I try really hard not to, though, because it makes me feel guilty and it scares the dog.
8. I wash my bathroom sink nearly every night. I would probably say that this is obsessive-compulsive. I NEED to see that shine. I try to do it AFTER Gary has brushed his teeth. (Althrough thankfully, he is a tidy spitter.) Since I do it so often, I don't normally need anything harsh to clean it.
9. Gary thinks this next one is werid, but I prefer putting away the dishes in the dishwasher right after they are clean, while the rest of the kitchen is clean too. I absolutely HATE to put them away right before I need to put in a new load of dishes. If I have not put them away while they're still warm, they don't feel as clean to me. Okay, maybe that IS a little bit weird.
10. Okay, this next one is a real secret, something I'll bet no one at all knows. I really like going to Walt Disney World. :) I like to go with my husband, who is my best friend, because being there with him reminds me why I married him in the first place and shows me how easy it will be to spend the rest of my life with him. Going with my kids is great, especially back in the day when I took them one at a time so I could spend quality time with them, not easy to do with six kids. I also love to go with my sister, because then we get to kids again ourselves. It's also fun to go with friends and spend time reliving the past and also making new memories. I even enjoy going by myself. There is no bad way to go to Walt Disney World, but of course the absolute best is with my grandbabies.
Ta DA! Ten things no one knew about me. :) (sorta...)
Monday, January 30, 2012
Mixed feelings
So Gary and I have come to the conclusion that we probably don't need a seven-bedroom house anymore, go figure. Since Bridget has returned home she has begun making plans to get an apartment with a friend or two and move out sometime in the next six months or so and I can't say I blame her. I'm not going to go into the "wailing momma" mode because I understand where she's coming from. I remember getting my first apartment with my best friend and it was a HOOT. (Remember that, Karen?) Some of my favorite memories to this day are of living there, so I would never begrudge that experience for Bridget. But that'll mean that there are only the two of us rattling around in this big house, and it's ridiculous enough being THREE rattling around here.
Doesn't it just figure that once I got my bathroom remodeled I would end up moving away?
I have already begun looking at the rooms with the eyes of someone who is saying goodbye. I look at each room and I don't see what's there now, I see what was there ten or fifteen years ago. I see little girls playing in knee-deep piles of stuff. I see a little dog laying on the top bunk of a doll's bed. I see a basement with three boys, in various stages of voice-changing. I see a room with a chinchilla named Chong, who was the softest pet ever. (He didn't much love coming out of his cage but once he was out, he snuggled really well.) I can also see Michael's room, which was more like a maze, really.
I look at my living room now and it's tidy but when I look through my "time vision" goggles I see gangly teenaged boys draped over all of the furniture and I literally have to count legs and divide by two to figure out how many are there and how much milk we'll need for cereal. (The heads are all obscured by the blankets, but somehow the feet are never covered up.) I look at the house across the street and remember neighbors long since moved away, who used to be able to tell when we were home and when we weren't because the dog slept on the kitchen table when we were away.
My family room has a nice little pot-bellied gas stove. When that thing is turned on that room is toasty and warm and cozy. On a snowy day there's nothing better and I remember when the girls would come home from school, cold and wet and tired. They'd snuggle under an afghan on the couch with something or other on the TV and they'd always fall asleep for a little while. (Getting up early for seminary meant always being sleepy enough for an afternoon nap.) That's what I see when I look at my family room.
I look at my kitchen, at my pantry, and remember keeping it stocked up with extra goodies because I knew that I would be feeding not just my own kids but that their friends felt enough at home here that they would open the pantry door to see if there was something interesting to eat, to "tide them over" till dinner was ready. And most of the time there were extra plates on the table at dinner time. As more and more of the kids have grown up and moved out I've found that I've cooked less often but somehow I haven't managed the art of cooking less QUANTITY, so when I cook there's always enough to feed an army. (Or to feed whomever is here for the rest of the week.) Gary is amused about that.
I look at my coat rack, for pete's sake. I have a sun hat hanging there and next to it is the hat Aidan wore whenever we went outside to "give the flowers a drink of water." (Aidan usually got as wet as the flowers.) They haven't lived here for a long time but I can't bring myself to put his hat away.
So how do you leave these memories behind? Gary says, "Change is always hard for you." Ya THINK?? Maybe it's because change has always meant pain. Change always means losing something I love. But how stupid is it to live in a house with seven bedrooms, six of which are not even being used? We shouldn't be making a house payment like this when we could sell it and buy something perfectly acceptable, maybe three bedrooms so we would still have room for out of town family to stay. We've actually even seen a few places, one of which I liked very much and could see myself living in. And then I come home and look at my house again and wonder how I'll live through giving it all up.
Change sucks.
Doesn't it just figure that once I got my bathroom remodeled I would end up moving away?
I have already begun looking at the rooms with the eyes of someone who is saying goodbye. I look at each room and I don't see what's there now, I see what was there ten or fifteen years ago. I see little girls playing in knee-deep piles of stuff. I see a little dog laying on the top bunk of a doll's bed. I see a basement with three boys, in various stages of voice-changing. I see a room with a chinchilla named Chong, who was the softest pet ever. (He didn't much love coming out of his cage but once he was out, he snuggled really well.) I can also see Michael's room, which was more like a maze, really.
I look at my living room now and it's tidy but when I look through my "time vision" goggles I see gangly teenaged boys draped over all of the furniture and I literally have to count legs and divide by two to figure out how many are there and how much milk we'll need for cereal. (The heads are all obscured by the blankets, but somehow the feet are never covered up.) I look at the house across the street and remember neighbors long since moved away, who used to be able to tell when we were home and when we weren't because the dog slept on the kitchen table when we were away.
My family room has a nice little pot-bellied gas stove. When that thing is turned on that room is toasty and warm and cozy. On a snowy day there's nothing better and I remember when the girls would come home from school, cold and wet and tired. They'd snuggle under an afghan on the couch with something or other on the TV and they'd always fall asleep for a little while. (Getting up early for seminary meant always being sleepy enough for an afternoon nap.) That's what I see when I look at my family room.
I look at my kitchen, at my pantry, and remember keeping it stocked up with extra goodies because I knew that I would be feeding not just my own kids but that their friends felt enough at home here that they would open the pantry door to see if there was something interesting to eat, to "tide them over" till dinner was ready. And most of the time there were extra plates on the table at dinner time. As more and more of the kids have grown up and moved out I've found that I've cooked less often but somehow I haven't managed the art of cooking less QUANTITY, so when I cook there's always enough to feed an army. (Or to feed whomever is here for the rest of the week.) Gary is amused about that.
I look at my coat rack, for pete's sake. I have a sun hat hanging there and next to it is the hat Aidan wore whenever we went outside to "give the flowers a drink of water." (Aidan usually got as wet as the flowers.) They haven't lived here for a long time but I can't bring myself to put his hat away.
So how do you leave these memories behind? Gary says, "Change is always hard for you." Ya THINK?? Maybe it's because change has always meant pain. Change always means losing something I love. But how stupid is it to live in a house with seven bedrooms, six of which are not even being used? We shouldn't be making a house payment like this when we could sell it and buy something perfectly acceptable, maybe three bedrooms so we would still have room for out of town family to stay. We've actually even seen a few places, one of which I liked very much and could see myself living in. And then I come home and look at my house again and wonder how I'll live through giving it all up.
Change sucks.
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Saturday, December 17, 2011
My heart is breaking for her...
I knew it would happen. I knew that she would love "her" kids and that being with them would enrich her. But with love comes the vulnerability that opens us up to pain and now that Bridget is due to come home, she has had to say goodbye to her students and it hurts. Part of me is miserable because I can't relieve her pain. But I know that there's nothing I can do. And would I change anything if I could? The only way to prevent the pain of loss is to never love anyone or anything. That's no way to live.
God bless you, Bridget. May you get over the pain of separation soon and be left with the sweet memories of your beautiful, sweet students who love you and will always remember the young woman who gave them her heart.
God bless you, Bridget. May you get over the pain of separation soon and be left with the sweet memories of your beautiful, sweet students who love you and will always remember the young woman who gave them her heart.
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Odds and Ends
So Bridget asked me if I was excited about her coming home and YES I AM! But part of me is a little nervous about it too, which I hated to admit, but there it is. I'm nervous that she won't like it here anymore because it isn't China. Maybe if I wash her hair and give her a scalp massage for $2? Seriously, though, I know she's had a wonderful time and I'm so happy about that. But I don't know how we can measure up. Oh well, I suppose it's not my job to "measure up" to a wonderful experience like that.
The job is going great, I am having a very good time. I really like having Mondays off because it means I no longer dread Sundays. Used to be Sundays would be horrible because not only did I not do anything like shop or clean house or whatever, the next day the work week started up again and that was the end of the long-awaited weekend. Shoot, not long enough to get anything done. Now that I have Monday off, I can get things done on Saturday, spend Sunday going to Church and enjoying family, and then finish getting my house tidy and get extra projects done on Monday. By the time I go back to work, the weekend is not that far away. Sweet. And the people I work with and for are really wonderful.
Today I got a retirement packet from United. There really wasn't much to it, only health insurance information, which of course is very expensive. (Almost double what it was when I was an actual employee.) It's the only information I have received about retirement so far, which is kind of surprising. I thought I would get a packet from my old boss, this is actually from WHQ. I was sad when I read through the information. Sure feels "final." I don't know that I'm really all that ready for final. United was part of my life for so long, still feels like it should be part of my life.
Tomorrow Gary and I are driving to Utah for a spur-of-the-moment trip to help out with a sewing project. (That's why we're driving, so I can get my sewing machine over there.) I'll be helping out with Carolyn's project (making a quiet book for the kids for Christmas) and I'll come home Tuesday. Gary wants to be back home for Sunday though because the Choir needs him if they're going to be ready for the Christmas program. He'll drive back Saturday. Since I don't want to try to haul my sewing machine on the plane maybe David and Sarah can bring it back to Colorado with them when they come for Christmas (please?) so I will have it back in its little cabinet.
I think I have become a little bit of a clean freak. I am in love with my Dyson vacuum and my floor steamer. I blame Carolyn, who introduced me to Dyson. And steam cleaners. And Gary gets a kick out of how much I can go on and on about my wonderful vacuum once I start talking about it. (At least, that is how I choose to interpret his eye-rolling.)
Since Bridget has been gone we have eaten at Taco Bell WAY WAY too much. That may or may not continue.
I think that's about all I have had on my mind lately.
Except to say that I really love my grandkids. :)
The job is going great, I am having a very good time. I really like having Mondays off because it means I no longer dread Sundays. Used to be Sundays would be horrible because not only did I not do anything like shop or clean house or whatever, the next day the work week started up again and that was the end of the long-awaited weekend. Shoot, not long enough to get anything done. Now that I have Monday off, I can get things done on Saturday, spend Sunday going to Church and enjoying family, and then finish getting my house tidy and get extra projects done on Monday. By the time I go back to work, the weekend is not that far away. Sweet. And the people I work with and for are really wonderful.
Today I got a retirement packet from United. There really wasn't much to it, only health insurance information, which of course is very expensive. (Almost double what it was when I was an actual employee.) It's the only information I have received about retirement so far, which is kind of surprising. I thought I would get a packet from my old boss, this is actually from WHQ. I was sad when I read through the information. Sure feels "final." I don't know that I'm really all that ready for final. United was part of my life for so long, still feels like it should be part of my life.
Tomorrow Gary and I are driving to Utah for a spur-of-the-moment trip to help out with a sewing project. (That's why we're driving, so I can get my sewing machine over there.) I'll be helping out with Carolyn's project (making a quiet book for the kids for Christmas) and I'll come home Tuesday. Gary wants to be back home for Sunday though because the Choir needs him if they're going to be ready for the Christmas program. He'll drive back Saturday. Since I don't want to try to haul my sewing machine on the plane maybe David and Sarah can bring it back to Colorado with them when they come for Christmas (please?) so I will have it back in its little cabinet.
I think I have become a little bit of a clean freak. I am in love with my Dyson vacuum and my floor steamer. I blame Carolyn, who introduced me to Dyson. And steam cleaners. And Gary gets a kick out of how much I can go on and on about my wonderful vacuum once I start talking about it. (At least, that is how I choose to interpret his eye-rolling.)
Since Bridget has been gone we have eaten at Taco Bell WAY WAY too much. That may or may not continue.
I think that's about all I have had on my mind lately.
Except to say that I really love my grandkids. :)
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Update
Just a quick note, I am surviving with Bridget in China. I knew I would but I also knew it wouldn't be easy. I haven't yet gone downstairs to torture myself by cleaning her room. :)
The job is going very well. I love having Mondays off and I have two really great bosses, so I'm very lucky. Also, next month Gary and I are going to go to Florida and stay in our new condo for the first time. Neato torpedo!
One bad thing, Gary is going out of town on Monday for the whole WEEK. Looks like it'll be just the dog and me. I see several taco bell outings coming up. (Audrey, I hope you want to visit?)
Oh, and am I the last person on the planet to discover NCIS? Good show, and Mark Harmon is easy on the eyes.
We have a new couch, we got it at Ikea. It's called the Manstad, and it makes into a bed. It replaced the futon in the front room (which is now being stored for Bridget, and yes Bridget, you get to have the little throw pillows, too, they just jumped out of my arms onto the family room couches when I was on my way downstairs.) I also got some pretty new pillows for it, so it looks really nice in there.
Bridget, I finished the second round of that brain scan at the hospital. I think I'm done with that booger stuff in my hair. Thank goodness for that.
The job is going very well. I love having Mondays off and I have two really great bosses, so I'm very lucky. Also, next month Gary and I are going to go to Florida and stay in our new condo for the first time. Neato torpedo!
One bad thing, Gary is going out of town on Monday for the whole WEEK. Looks like it'll be just the dog and me. I see several taco bell outings coming up. (Audrey, I hope you want to visit?)
Oh, and am I the last person on the planet to discover NCIS? Good show, and Mark Harmon is easy on the eyes.
We have a new couch, we got it at Ikea. It's called the Manstad, and it makes into a bed. It replaced the futon in the front room (which is now being stored for Bridget, and yes Bridget, you get to have the little throw pillows, too, they just jumped out of my arms onto the family room couches when I was on my way downstairs.) I also got some pretty new pillows for it, so it looks really nice in there.
Bridget, I finished the second round of that brain scan at the hospital. I think I'm done with that booger stuff in my hair. Thank goodness for that.
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