A Little Thing Called Self Control

Have you seen this hilarity? I've been thinking about this comedian's material because I'm guilty of it. Life is so easy and convenient. When I get tired from exercise, or overwhelmed from cleaning my house... I get SO put out! This stuff isn't supposed to be easy, Amie! Not everything is easy! Not everything is fun! It hurts to have a cavity filled, but is it good for you? Yes. You lift weights, you're sore the next day, but is it good for you? Yes! You go without chocolate, you crave it and get grumpy, but is it good for you? YES!

I'm so used to everything feeling like fantasy land that I don't even want to struggle anymore! I wouldn't give back one convenience of modern technology, but this is me being tough on myself in the name of my New Year's Resolutions.

Amie, the idea of failing at getting a book published is scary. The idea of succeeding at it is scary too. Honestly, the picture of me sitting at a table eventually, signing my name on books for people and trying to make myself believe that I'm worthy of someone wanting me to sign my name on something? Terrifying. And crazy. I know. I think most authors dream of people wanting their autograph, and that idea is scary to me. But you know what? So is getting a cavity filled, so is working out hard, so is going without chocolate... oh that's just too horrific- let's not go there. My goals are hard for me. If they weren't, they wouldn't need to be goals. Being tough on myself is necessary sometimes.

Life is so wonderful that we could almost believe that being the least bit uncomfortable must be a bad thing. Truth is: discomfort makes us grow. I sorta wish I had my own personal drill sergeant. Run soldier! RUN! Clean soldier, CLEAN! Edit soldier, EDIT! I'd hate him so much... and he'd be so good for me. Ryan Edward is probably willing to do the job, but I'm thinking that wouldn't be great for our relationship. ;)

How are your resolutions holding up? And are you ever afraid of success? Or am I unusual and in need my own personal therapist as well? I have suspicions I might be. (You know, I would LOVE to hear your comments even if there's bad grammar or misspelled words. Or just one word. "Like!" I'll know what you mean, because I facebook. :) It doesn't matter that this is a writer's blog at all. Your comments are really just for interaction- or encouragement. :) "LIKE!"!!!!)

The Contest Winner!

Thank you all for following and commenting! You are wonderful and I so need your encouragement! I wanted you all to win a million pillows. That's about how many Ryan Edward sleeps with at night. He might could go so far as to call it "work". :) He has to test the merchandise I suppose. He's definitely an expert. His pillows are taking over the world!!!

No matter who won the contest, I would be thrilled and have something wonderful to say about you, even if I don't know you. Your comments all got me in the Christmas spirit, whether you were commiserating or reminding me of the magic of Christmas! Jullie- I feel the EXACT same way about the Christmas letter... and could add to it! ....Let's go for a walk and talk the whole time just about that! ;) Christy- I laughed out loud that you let Bruce off the hook so that you didn't have to spoil his good mood! I love it! And Kelly- you brought back some really embarrassing Christmas video memories of me singing Celine Dion, badly, and with much emotion to my new CD player on Christmas morning as an early teen. Ah- the things that exist on camera that never should.

The winnner of the latex pillow iiiiiiis (drumrollllllllll):

Stefanie Ewer!!!

I put all of the names in a bag, some twice, and I drew out the little paper that said, "Stef". Now I will tell you why we should all be happy that she gets a new pillow. She is a blast to be around and she is so kind. We don't see each other very often anymore, but when my Dad passed away she brought flowers to my door. I will always remember that, because often times (like almost daily) I think of doing kind things for people, especially if they're down but it takes a LOT to actually commit, spend time and thought get something for them, then go out of your way to bring it to them, see them, hug them at the door, and ESPECIALLY to give condolences, because so often people don't know what to say. I think she did something spectacular when she did that! I hope she or whoever she gifts the pillow to sleeps as though on a cloud (if that is, indeed, a good thing. To me, it is!).

I had good intentions of posting more often, but Christmas is all consuming right now! If I don't get to say much until January know this: I'll come back with a vengeance!!! My Januaries always need something fun to focus on.

Putting Together the Pieces

Today I got out a giant umbrella and walked with Luke to his bus stop. There were giant white snowflakes falling all around us and I imagined how warm and cozy the bus must feel for him as he got on board. I caught a perfect view of him out one of the many windows as the bus drove by me, walking back to the house, and I smiled my biggest smile and waved my happiest wave. I thought about how it won’t be long before I’ll wish for moments like that back. I thought about how fast time goes.
I used to sit on the tiny balcony of an apartment Ryan and I lived in when our oldest was a toddler and the next was a baby. We had lived there for a couple of years and we didn’t mind the daydream of moving on, owning a home, feeling financially secure. But I remember, perfectly, sitting out on that balcony, looking past the generic, colorful playground equipment, past the shared swimming pool, to a barrier of other tall apartment buildings all filled with young couples like us and thinking, “One day, this view will be a distant memory. It is so familiar now. It’s all I know, all I can imagine, but one day I’ll never lay eyes on it again.”
I remember last Christmas like it was yesterday. It does not seem like a year ago. Not a whole year since I hid Alli’s first cell phone away in my sock drawer, anxiously awaiting Christmas morning. Not a whole year since I turned down desserts and exercised feverishly so I could feel good about myself while Christmasing with my family and then ate all through Christmas break and gained it all back.
I teach my kids the same little songs and actions that my Mom taught me when I was little and I can still hear the echo of her voice when she taught me. I can still feel the warm sun on my face, still feel the pavement under my feet as we walked to the local library, singing with her all the way there and back.
That’s how short this life is.
It’s comforting in a way, focusing on and lamenting over scales, clocks, money and technology. Little things. Fleeting things. However, in the moments when you have that out of time experience, when you stand out in the gently falling snow and usher your kindergartner onto the school bus and watch him smile and wave goodbye, you just want to wrap your arms around the people you love and make sure they’re happy and taken care of. You just want to wrap all of your memories up in the little antique doilies you got from your Great Grandma and tuck them away in a hope chest that smells clean and old at the same time and keep them forever safe… and you want to make more.
My Mom is dating someone, and it’s serious. Many of you will be wondering what the story is, so I’ll try to summarize. He was a friend of my Dad’s in high school. They hadn’t stayed in close contact, but he came to visit my Dad once when he got really sick. He also came to my Dad’s funeral. I so appreciated everyone who travelled to come and pay respects to Dad. A few months later, this man’s wife, who had been sick for many years, also passed away. My Mom travelled with friends to the funeral. Later, emails began between my Mom and this man because (and I believe this with all of my heart) no one can understand losing a spouse except for someone who has experienced it. They talked of nothing but their spouses and their grief for months. The emails began to be so healing that phone calls seemed an even better opportunity. By the time they went on their first date (which kind of freaked us out) they were already close and only got closer. There was a shift in relationship, so natural, that my Mom said it felt right.
This is where it starts getting a little tricky for us, the onlookers. This is where a thousand questions, questions you never even thought of asking, come into your mind. Justin, Jeremy, Jordan and I are Monte Gee’s kids, and being like him in many ways, we don’t enter into ANYTHING without thinking it over to the result of at least five headaches and a goodly portion of heartburn. Rest assured, we have taken our feelings and the circumstances apart and put them back together like a jigsaw puzzle, and before it’s over we’ll be able to put the puzzle together blindfolded, our spouses will too.
The pieces of the puzzle are like our daily stresses about scales, clocks, money and technology. Each piece is important. When the puzzle is put together, it’s like the out of time moment I had at the bus stop today. The picture is a man and a woman who have had their hearts broken; who have been through more than most of us can understand. It’s a picture of them finding happiness when they once hoped for only survival. It’s a picture of two families standing behind them in support because life is short, and they just want to wrap their arms around the people they love and make sure they’re happy and taken care of. My mom’s only daughter is in that puzzle, and while she’s still coping with these new ideas, and writing a blog post about them, she’s also wrapping up her memories in little antique doilies and tucking them away in a proverbial hope chest that smells clean and old at the same time, she’s keeping them safe forever… and she’s willing to open her heart and make new ones with new people because there’s still room in her hope chest for that.

In The Quiet Moments

Things have been a little mixed up lately. I guess I’ve been missing my Dad. Fall is all about my Dad. It’s strange to see the leaves change without him here to point out how pretty they look. He’d be out on the mountain with my brothers, even if he was here, and sick, that’s how they’d celebrate their October birthdays (his and the twins’ are just a day apart). We wouldn’t even get to Thanksgiving before he’d be scheming about how to get away with spending more money than he should on us for Christmas.
I’ve been on a kick since he passed away, talking about how life is mostly hard. Which is just a basic fact. Day to day, there are mostly challenges and setbacks, annoyances, diets, reasons to cry, reasons to zone out and distract ourselves with TV and computers so that when we turn them off we can face reality again for a little while. My argument is usually that every once in awhile there is a magical little moment. Something like you hearing your kids laughing in the other room, during one of those rare occasions when they’re playing amongst themselves instead of thinking of demands for you to fulfill. My theory states that those moments, by some miracle, make the tough moments (numerous as they are) all worth it.
My sister in law, Tasha, and I were discussing the theory the other day on the phone. She said, “It’s true. Life is mostly hard. But what do you think about in the quiet moments? Do you think about how hard everything was that day?”
I said, “No, I guess I don’t.”
She said, “My mind automatically goes back to how cute my kids looked doing this or that, or how much fun something coming up is going to be. I don’t find myself thinking about the hard stuff.”
Today I was looking through old pictures, trying to find one of Luke when he was a pirate, so that I could convince him that it’s okay for boys to have make-up on their faces if it’s Halloween, especially if it’s to create a beard.
I found the pictures of him when he was a newborn. I remembered being pregnant with him. I was really sick for the first months, and no sooner had that ended than I got two severe cases of the flu, seemingly one right after the other. Ryan went to Christmas parties without me while I lay in bed next to a garbage can, sweating, uncomfortable and massive and sure I’d never live through it. I hated not being well enough to take care of my kids. I hated pleading with God to make me well and still feeling sick. I tried to think of the “something that I’m supposed to learn from all of this”, but I couldn’t think of a darn thing.
I thought of Tasha’s words. “What do you think about in the quiet moments? Do you think about how hard everything is?”
I looked at our smiling pictures, holding baby Luke.

I looked at one Ryan took of me, after I fell asleep while praying because I was so tired that I couldn’t get on my knees and stay awake through my prayer. I can even smile and chuckle at that one now.
I looked at a picture of my Mom, trying to figure out the camera so that she could take a picture of my Dad holding the baby… and I wasn't sad.
Maybe life isn’t so hard after all. I think what matters most is what settles into your heart and mind… in the quiet moments.

Luke and his cousin Dax.

My Dad and Luke.

These People Are My Own

I’m visiting my home town this weekend. My Mom has been going through old papers. We looked at some of them together. Some are too tender, some are too sad. Then we found something very interesting and inspiring. It was a book of biographies. The students of my sixth grade year, 1988, had done interviews and written the bios about people from our community. These are my treasures. These are people who comprise a small town, where a village raised a child. These were the people who knew what I was doing when even I didn’t. My Mom’s sister, Susan, told me a story that hasn’t left my mind. She said that before Dad’s funeral, she made a call from her home in the city to one of our local small town florist shops. Aunt Susan said, “I need to order flowers for a funeral.” The woman on the other end of the phone said, “Oh. Monte Gee.” She knew. My Aunt Susan went on to make her order and to tell the woman that she was my Mom’s sister. The woman reassured my Aunt with a sentence that won’t leave my mind and that has absolutely proven itself. “Don’t worry,” she said, “We take care of our own down here.” These people are my own. Interview by Kristy Funk, Biography of Sandra Gee, Librarian Sandra remembers as a young girl she had her jaw broken. The doctor had to wire her mouth shut. She guesses it was supposed to make her listen more and not talk so much. If Sandra was a bird, she would be a peacock. The reason is they have lots of eyes on their tails and she would read a lot of books and take care of her family. Sandra admires her mom the most because her mother is always thinking of others. Interview by Ryan Leonhardt, Biography of Steve Jensen, Mine Chemist and Scoutmaster When Steve was young he loved all kinds of sports. He loved to be outside and to be in the wilderness and he loved animals. If Steve was an animal he would be a cougar, because they are fast and sneaky. If Steve was writing a message to the future generations it would be to love each other. Interview by Bruce Yost, Biography of Lavar Leonhardt, Teacher Lavar grew up on a big farm. So he learned how to work. He had a fun life living on a farm, riding horses and cows. If he was an animal he would be a wolf because nothing messes with a wolf. If he had a message for future generations he would tell them to worry less about success in life and to worry more about people, helping people and loving people. Interview by Tori Truman, Biography of Jackie Skinner, Member of the PTA Board, graduate of Cosmetology school If Jackie were a color she would be red because is makes a statement and it is bold. If she were an animal she would be a dolphin because they are smart, free, and a friend to man. When Jackie was as little girl she had the chicken pox during the Christmas Season. Christmas Eve she could not sleep because they were so bad. They were even in her throat. After everyone else had gone to bed her father let her open her largest gift and it was a tea party set. She and her father sat up all night long and had a tea party with her dolls. Interview by Russell Taylor, Biography of Royce Stilson, Former School Board Member Royce remembers when he was a kid he was always hunting, fishing, and making rope swings in cottonwood trees near the creek. If Royce was a bird, he would be a Periquin Falcon, because they are sleek, fast and a sure hunter. If Royce was writing a message for a time capsule, he would tell them to choose the right and never back down. Interview by Kira Fox, Biography of Lynne Taylor, Aerobics and Dance Instrustor Lynne remembers when she was little that her mother was old, wrinkled, and gray. She was very loving, very feminine, and always tender, gentle, kind, but a very strong person. She raised eight children all by herself because her father died. She remembers how sad it made her when people would make fun of her mother because she was old. Age doesn’t matter, she made up for it by being kind and loving. If Lynne was to write a message for future generations, she would write, you can be whatever you dream to be, don’t be any less than what you can be. Interview by Genette Gist, Biography of Doug Jensen, Buyer for Utah Power and Light Doug says his childhood was a happy one. He said he remember when he was in the second grade and he kicked a kickball through the window. Doug said is he was an animal, he would be a bear for the reason, they’re grouchy. Doug says he admires his daughter Amanda because she’s always happy. Doug says if he wrote a message to the future generation he would say, do your homework! Interview by Natalie Christensen, Biography of Gordon Bennet, Highway Patrol Gordon’s life as a child was very exciting. He liked the time when he and his friends went and jumped off buildings and broke their arms. If he was an animal, he would be an elk because they are so big and massive. Their horns grow very strong, also they are very graceful. Gordon says that he admired the most, his good friend Loyd George because he always helped people who had problems. Advice for future generations: don’t get involved in drugs and have respect for your country. Interview by Bret Hansen, Biography of Ray Wareham, City Council Ray’s life as a child was very exciting and very happy. The people were all poor and had no material things. He grew up on Molen Road, and there were a great number of children. They skated every winter, and swam and herded cows in the summer. His greatest asset in life has been the value of hard work. By working hard he has achieved most of the things he wanted to. If Ray was a color he would be blue, because to Ray, it is clean and it is a color that everyone enjoys. It seems to be a never ending color. When you look in the sky or ocean, it’s there. Interview by Mark McKell, Biography of Jim Behling, Safety Engineer at Cottonwood Mine Jim’s childhood was exciting. He and his family moved a lot of times and went to different places. Just during high school, he moved ten times. If Jim were a bird, he would be a Canadian Goose. The reason is because they fly south to warm climates and see a lot of places. If he was an animal, he would be an elk, because they are neat and distinguished. Interview by Amie Gee, Biography of Leslie Danzer, Seamstress When Leslie was four years old her two sisters were killed in a car accident by a drunk driver. It was a very sad experience for her. Leslie’s life as a child was very happy. When she was six years old, her brother was born and they grew up together in Bountiful, Utah. If Leslie were a color she would be peach, because that’s the color she already is! If she were an animal, she would be an octopus, because she could help more people by sewing with all of those arms. Message for future generations: It is what is in your heart that counts. Interview by Sheldon Kirkham, Biography of Bruce Funk, County Clerk If Bruce was an animal he would be a tiger, because he would be free to roam around. If he was a color, he would be maroon, because he like that color more than any other he paints with. If he was any kind of plant, he would be a tree, because he would like to be tall and strong. He admires God the most, because he is amazed at his creations. Interview by Kristin Danzer, Biography of Drew Sitterud, Business Owner (Grocery Store) Drew’s most significant childhood experiences were being close as a family and having an older brother that had time for him and also made him feel important. Drew thinks the characteristics of a “perfect friend” should be one who will leave you better than they found you. If Drew was writing advice for future generations he would tell them that they are great people and nobody can make them feel little but themselves, and they have a Father in Heaven that loves them. Interview by Peter Bunderson, Biography of Frances Leonhardt, Homemaker and Custom Quilter Frances had a wonderful childhood. She remembers when she was eight years old, she sang on the radio with Dolly Parton. If Frances was a bird, she would like to be a robin, because she likes to be first and robins are the first birds in the Spring. If she was an animal, she would be a poodle, because they’re pampered and well cared for. She wants younger generations to know that they should always have the courage to stand for the right, to have high standards and be obedient to parents. Interview by Kyla Rollins, Biography of Lane Justice, Community Sports When Lane was 7 he went to the State Prison with his dad, who worked there. The convicts cut his hair. One of them would push him on the swings, and then took him out for ice cream. When he was 10 he won a dream horse in BLM. In high school he cut his finger off in a workshop making a table. If he was a bird, then he would be a magpie so he could bug certain people. His hobby is riding horses, because they are enjoyable, but he is allergic to them. He plans on having three kids. When he was a kid, he had a white house with bars on the windows, 6 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, a front room and an attic, where he slept.

In Doing Small Things, We Do The Impossible.

I don’t have memories of my Dad avoiding the eyes of a needy person and walking on down the street. I have several very specific memories of him stopping, talking, giving cash, or going into the nearest fast-food place and getting someone a good meal. I don’t have memories of my Dad driving past a broken down car, muttering that if we only had time or if he were more capable he would stop. I have one particular memory of him turning around and going back in heavy falling snow on our drive to Thanksgiving dinner at Grandma’s house. How I wanted to get there to the warm meal and the company of my cousins! But there was a car broken down on the side of the road, and that family needed help getting to their Thanksgiving. I bet they still remember my Dad. I have memories of people asking for what I thought was too much. I have memories of Dad taking pause, not verbalizing what I could see… that it was not an easy thing for him to lend an expensive four-wheeler or high quality piece of hunting equipment, or give of his free time. But what finally did get verbalized was that things were just things and that people were more important. I don’t have specific memories of Dad helping someone daily. I know he did, but he was not the sort that needed people to know it. I don’t know how often I’ve been that kind of self-less. When have I done a good turn without telling a living soul? It’s the most disciplined kind of service, something my Dad worked at. There’s a thing that’s harder than all of that. Accepting the service of others. My Dad had occasion to learn this lesson in his life as well. Because of he and Mom’s good nature, like people were drawn to them. People whose lives they had touched were eager to give back to them and then some. So much has been given to my family that I could spend every blog post writing about it, but I don’t have the words or the tears to sustain it! It takes an unspeakable humility to both give and receive. People are taking care of my Mom. How can I tell you what that means to me? It would take more than words, even words of my own invention! When the funeral ended, the expected happened. There were no more responsibilities to keep busy with and the sadness started to settle heavy on our chests. My brother, Justin, got out the sympathy cards. They were the cure. There were cards from the Power Plant where Dad worked. They had signatures and cash. Some were ones and some were fifties and the men and women who put that money in didn’t need to specify how much they had each given individually. There were words about Dad, about the kind of man he was, and about how people wanted to be the way he was, that they would do good in memory of him. It’s hard to know what would help someone when they lose someone they love, and I’ve come to find that honoring their loved one’s memory in that way is possibly the very best thing anyone can do. I want to tell you that we felt Dad there in that kitchen with us that night. On a lighter note, another unexpected, charitably beneficial thing people can do is kiss pigs. That’s what they decided to do at the school where my Mom works. They only knew that they wanted to do something for Mom. I believe they felt that they simply HAD to do something for her, and I believe they came up with the best plan that has seen any junior high school, maybe ever. Faculty and students stuffed a piggy bank full of money and when they had not only reached, but doubled their fundraising goal- they held an assembly and the students got to watch teachers and other staff, kiss a live pig for Mom. They got to watch her muster up her courage and thank them through tears. She told them that Dad’s favorite song is “One” by U2 and that it says, “We get to carry each other.” She thanked them for helping to carry her, and she told the kissers of the pig that she would be willing to kiss a pig for them as well, should the occasion ever arise. The world is most often a difficult place. The televised news is painful. This homemaker’s daily life is drudgery. At times I lose my temper. At times I lose myself. Every day I call to check on my Mom, praying that things are getting a little easier for her. We know hardships. But I know that somewhere in the world right now, someone is giving a meal to a homeless man. Someone is stopping in the snow to help a family get back on their path. Someone is writing a kind word, is slipping money into an envelope. Someone is kissing a pig. And we are not alone.

Forced to Use Words That Don't Exist

Sometimes words fail you. At least the ones that already exist. Take for example, when you make the announcement that you started a writer’s blog and you get more support and encouragement and kind compliments than you dreamed you would. The gratitude you feel can’t be described with any words from the dictionary. Believe me, I checked. I should probably tell you now that I’m not very good at inventing words. I tried it once before, ten years ago when my husband and I were first married and had no money to otherwise entertain ourselves. We were hanging out with my brother and decided we’d invent a word and see if we could make it take off. We knew, even then, that there was a severe problem with the word “cool”. Society hadn’t provided us with any successful alternatives to “cool” since its origins. We set about trying to come up with a suitable replacement word. I threw out a couple of fluffy words all ending in the hard “e” sound and then my brother laughingly informed me that I’m not cool enough to invent a synonym for cool. My husband came up with the word “tap”. For about a month we used the phrase “that’s tap” whenever something was cool. I still think we could’ve changed the English language with that one if we had been more dedicated… or maybe they should have injected a little Amie into it and tried “tappey”. ….No… First of all, I’ve been barely able to drag myself away from the computer. I had to slide from the computer chair to the ground and claw at the shag carpet to pull myself away from all of your niceness. It’s scary, really, walking away from the computer… not knowing if you might miss your blog counter as it changes from one number to the next! You can see why I wouldn’t want to miss that can’t you? I was savoring your sweet encouragement like every word was a peanut butter M&M. I ate them up like a Biggest Loser Contestant after the show is over. It was like when I was a kid and Mom and Dad would take us to the buffet and we’d eat so much that we couldn’t wait to get out to the car where we could lean back and unzip our pants. I’m so grateful to you that... I feel fat. It’s gratfat. We actually need to put me on a diet. I’m not good with moderation. I don’t know how to spread the happiness out! I’m just going to keep ingesting it until I’m so obese that they’ll remove me from the computer chair by crane…. and my pants will be unzipped. I did have to leave the house once the day I started my blog. I drove my daughter to dancing. I was a little disoriented. I was driving while intoxithankful. Nobody should have to navigate the parking lot of a dance studio while intoxithankful. I ended up stuck between the corner of a brick building and a giant SUV. There was so little wiggle room that pedestrians couldn’t get past me. Tiny little dancer pedestrians in leotards, with not even gratfat to stop them didn’t have enough room to wiggle through. It was horrifying. But it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter that I’m not a good driver. It didn’t matter that I overindulge in peanut butter M&Ms among many other things… because YOU told me that you liked my writing. So… as inadequate and overused as the words may be, from the bottom of my (already established, excessively dominant) HEART, I THANK YOU.