Would you like to walk about?

For the past 10 months, in addition to adjusting to Seth being on a mission in Paraguay, I've also been adjusting to being in a brand new ward. I really think it would have been easier not to face both these adjustments at almost exactly the same time, but no one asked my opinion. Now this new ward seems to have lots of traditions that date back all the way to the restoration, so we Sixth Ward transplants need to catch up. One such tradition is called the "Hostess Dinner," which happened a couple months ago. That was a good evening although I kept wanting to go sample the food from the other tables. I refrained.

Another tradition happens in the summer and is called the "Walk About." They put signs up all around the neighborhood, encouraging everyone to come out and, well, walk about. Then they ask three families to host. These families put up a "Stop" sign in their yards, set out some chairs, and have treats ready for people walking about. That sounds easy enough (WAY easier than hosting a table for the Hostess Dinner, coming up with a theme, decorating (eeek!), and planning food (double eeek!). So when the bishopric counselor emailed and asked me if we would be one of the hosts for the Walk About, I quickly agreed.

Then I thought, "Wait, what did I just agree to???"

You see, I love hosting people in our home. My annual Christmas cookie exchange is one of the highlights of my year, and I welcome other opportunities as well to share our home with friends. Our home, NOT our yard. In fact, whenever we're expecting guests, I pray they will just pull up to the house, look neither left nor right, and quickly make their way to the front door and inside. Why? Because my yard looks like crap. Always. It pretty much looks like the house is abandoned, and I'm not even kidding. I try so hard, but I'm not good at yard work, and I basically hate it, so yeah. It's terrible.

So just after I agreed to host this Walk About deal, it occurred to me that I just said yes, not to people coming to visit my house, no. I just said yes to people coming to visit my YARD! Ahhhhhhhhh. What was I thinking? Enter my favorites Eli and Amanda, who came to my rescue and tried to help. Amanda edged and weed-whacked like a mad woman, while Eli pulled weeds and clipped branches. I mowed the lawn and raked up foliage into the dumpster.

Truth, it still looks like crap, but slightly better crap.

The night of the Walk About it was a tad stormy. Wind blew, and at one point rain threatened to dampen (literally) my chairs, tables, and plates of brownies. But that didn't last long, and ultimately the event was lovely. Several families came by, some from the ward, others from the neighborhood and not members of our church. There were lots of hungry kids who liked brownies; good thing I made three pans. It was really such a nice time. No one mentioned my crappy yard, but then of course no one would. I didn't think about it too much either because there were so many nice folks to talk to.

I hear they do these Walk Abouts a couple more times during the summer, so if you live in the neighborhood and see the signs, I highly recommend you come.

Would you like to walk about?

Prepping food, wearing orange, and finding common ground

This past weekend was busy, way busier than I like. I have two friends who live all their days like this, crazy busy from start to finish. One is the head pastor of a protestant church, and the other works two, nearly full-time jobs. But me? Nope. I like my "down time" way too much. I very much enjoy doing absolutely nothing.

Occasionally, though, a weekend comes along that is jam-packed full of activity, and I think to myself, "This is what every day is like for Rebecca and Patty." They are truly awesome, by the way, both of them.

So Friday night I set up two crock pots full of food: El Pato chicken meat in one and teriyaki chicken in the other. Those cooked overnight, and were ready to bag up Saturday morning. Then I went to the store and bought stuff for spaghetti sauce and ground turkey taco meat. Back home, I cooked all that up, and the final result of all this was 10 family freezer meals and 11 individual frozen dinners. I really hate to cook, so this is huge, people.

Already on a serious path of productivity, I drove to DI and dropped off all the bags of clothes from the back of my car, then took my car through a car wash, vacuumed out the interior, wiped down every surface, and even spot cleaned the upholstery here and there. How impressed are you? Right?

By then it was time get ready for the adult session of stake conference, so I showered and got dressed and headed to Mac Grill for a quick dinner and chat with Amanda, who had only a couple tables at the time. Eli was working the expo line, so he couldn't really talk to me, but at least I could see him, and that's better than nothing.

The adult session was good; I got to hug so many people from our former ward. All of them asked about Seth! In the new ward, people don't know Seth, so of course they don't ask about him. Why would they? It was lovely to see so many friends.

I came back home and did school work until falling into a state of blissful sleep, which lasted the entire night, a definite victory, when all too often my stupid anxiety doesn't allow me a full night's sleep. Woke up Sunday morning feeling great; donned my only orange dress, in honor of National Gun Violence Awareness Weekend; and drove to the stake center an hour early for the general session because no, I can't handle the hard, folding chairs way back in the gym. Instead, I found a nice padded pew near the front, where I sat with Eli, who had been at an earlier leadership meeting, and worked on my gospel doctrine lesson for next week.

Both sessions of stake conference were enjoyable. Several young adults spoke Sunday morning, including Seth's good friend, Daniela! She is working to complete her mission papers, and Seth is super excited to find out where she goes. Another young man spoke, who had recently completed a service mission. His pure testimony was inspiring, and I was so grateful he was asked to speak.

Throughout the weekend, I was pulled into a discussion on social media about finding common ground with those whose opinions are different from ours, political perspectives in particular. (Wow, I didn't even plan that alliteration, but dang it works, huh?) As I participated in this discussion and thought about my many relationships with folks whose opinions differ from mine, in some cases, intensely, I was reminded how thankful I am for the ability to find common ground. There is always common ground. For example, there's the person whose comment on my post initiated this discussion. He and I agree on nothing related to politics, absolutely nothing. And yet! We both want the Toronto Raptors to crush those Warriors and send them right home. Common ground.

We are, every one of us, children of Heavenly Parents. And ultimately, what else really matters? Whose we are is far more significant than we can even imagine! That's what I thought about throughout this busy weekend as I spent Saturday prepping food. That's what I thought about Sunday as I wore my orange dress and remembered those who died so tragically, victims of preventable gun violence. And that's what I was taught in so many ways in stake conference. When we remember whose we are, we can always find common ground.

In Search of Dresses with Pockets

Have you ever noticed that most dresses don't have pockets? Me either. It never mattered. But suddenly, it has become urgent that I have dresses with pockets to wear the 1st and 3rd Sundays of each month.

I have a total of 37 dresses. Exactly two of them have pockets. (Aside: no judgment on the 37 dresses. I like clothes.)

As you may remember, last September we were transferred into a new ward. For quite a while, I didn't have a calling, and I happily wore my pocket-less dresses each week. A while back, though, I was called to teach Gospel Doctrine (hooray!), and now I need pockets.

Why? This new ward has several people with hearing difficulties, so they like teachers to use a microphone. The former teacher carried a hand-held mic and passed it back and forth, sort of "talk show host" style, but my teaching mode just doesn't vibe with worrying about a microphone. So, one very kind Sunday School President and one equally kind Bishopric Counselor worked it out for the ward to purchase a clip-on, cordless mic setup. It wasn't easy for them, and I am so, so grateful. The microphone part clips onto my collar and attaches to a little box deal that needs to go in my pocket.

Except only two of my dresses have pockets.

A few other dresses look decent with my long, beige, pocketed cardigan over the top, so that's worked a couple times. But this past week, I was in full-on clothes crisis mode, trying to figure out what to wear! Church starts at 9:00, and by 8:50 I was still in my underwear shouting, "There MUST be more dresses here with pockets!"

But no.

With the weather warming, I probably won't even want to wear the cardigan, and no, I don't want to wear the same two dresses every 1st and 3rd Sunday. Is a shopping trip in order? In search of dresses with pockets? Granted, I don't necessarily need any new dresses, but desperate times and all that.

So if you're ever browsing online or wandering through a clothing store and happen upon a cute dress with pockets, ping me. I'll be forever grateful.

"Help me think of a good topic, Olivia!" Friendship? Technology? How about book group?

Today is May 31st. So far this month, I've only written three blog posts. That probably shouldn't matter, right? The goal here is quality, not quantity, and when I began this blog back in 2009, I never imagined it would turn into what it is today. That said, we all know I'm just a bit OCD, and yes, I like order. I like predictability. I like a plan. My plan for this blog is to write a minimum of four posts a month, an average of one each week, and I always do.

So when I noticed the date today and logged into the blog and saw only three posts for May, I panicked just slightly: "What? May 31st. Only three posts? I need to write something today!" There I sat on a bench surrounding a fountain downtown at City Creek Center, eating a decadent cookie from Crumbl. Shulamith and I were enjoying the sunshine. Sunshine isn't really my vibe, but she likes it, and I've had my share of "Terrianne Weather" the past few weeks, so.

"I need to blog today. Help me think of a good topic, Olivia." (I call her "Olivia" because she solves all my problems perfectly, just like Olivia Pope on Scandal.)

"I'll try to think," she replied.

Later, she texted, "What about friendship? Keeping old friends, making new friends, staying in touch, etc.?" A few minutes later, "Have you ever written about how you suck at technology?"

Hmmmm. I know I've written about several of my friends here and here and here and here, and I'm sure I've mentioned my ongoing war with technology. But this is my 677th blog post, so it's hard to remember every last one.

I tried both topics she suggested, and the posts went nowhere fast. After writing maybe three paragraphs both times, I whispered, "Well this sucks!" and deleted the whole thing.

So here we are, you and I. You need to read something. I need to write something. But what? Frustrated, I put my laptop aside and finished reading One Day in December, which is just not a very good book at all. It's one of those that you start reading, and then need to know what happens, so you keep reading, but then nothing ever happens. How can a book go on for 416 pages and nothing ever happens? Also, this author Josie Silver may be a very nice person, but she has NO EARTHLY IDEA HOW TO USE SEMICOLONS OR AVOID COMMA SPLICES.

Yes, I'm shouting. Nope, I'm not sorry. Ugh! Josie, you have three reasonable choices: Learn how to use semicolons, stop using semicolons, or (for the love of all things holy), get an editor! You're killin' me. And about the comma splices. There is no excuse. They're sloppy. That's all.

I don't recommend this book. Even if you like long, exhausting, would-be romance novels, you'll be too distracted by the numerous comma splices and rabid misuse of semicolons to enjoy it. I promise.

What should you read? Well, I just happened to go to my neighborhood book group last night. Let me tell you a little about that. Eight months ago, our stake went through some intense boundary restructure, which split our ward. The vast majority of our former ward members got to stay together, but a tiny handful of us were transplanted into a different ward, a fully established one that didn't lose any members in the restructure.

It was hard. Not gonna lie. It's still hard. We're making progress, and each week feels a little more normal, but I still really miss seeing my friends in church on Sunday. These things just take time.

One great thing happened, though. A group of women from this new ward have a neighborhood book group, and they were kind enough to invite Emily and me to join it shortly after we were put in their ward. That was six books ago! I still don't know any of these women very well, and they don't know much of anything about me either, but I do know this: They like to laugh, and so do I. And they like to read good books, and so do I. That's enough. At least for now.

Last night, we discussed Elinore Oliphant is Completely Fine by Gail Honeyman. Definitely worth the read. Ms. Honeyman creates a voice in  Elinore that is consistent and quirky and genuine. Even through the underlying trail of tragedy, Elinore will make you laugh.

My second favorite of the six books I've read for this group is Every Note Played by Lisa Genova. She writes about a man with ALS disease, from diagnosis through death, and his ex-wife who becomes his caregiver. It's raw and real, folks, not one bit sugar coated. And so well done. It's a great choice for anyone who doesn't suffer from anxiety that specifies to fear of terminal disease. (Wait! I have that exact type of anxiety!) Yep, I had ALS symptoms for weeks after reading the book and occasionally still do. Blech!

Two more recent books to recommend, though not from the book group: Small Great Things by Jodi Picoult and Where the Crawdads Sing by Delia Owens. The former offers a heart-wrenching look at race, privilege, and compassion, and reminds us that only love has the power to transform ugliness into grace. The latter captivates us from Page 1 into the world of "marsh girl," and a saga that is both unbelievable and realistic.

There you have it. Post #677, the fourth for May, 2019. Now I'll be able to sleep.

Happy reading, everyone!

Mr. Webster

Meet Mr. Webster, soon-to-be 5th grade teacher at Park Lane Elementary. Yes, it's true. After six interviews and one terrifying live teaching demonstration, Eli was offered a full time contract to teach 5th grade starting this fall. Not only that, but Park Lane was hands down his first choice of all six.

When he came home from the interview, he said something like, "If they would call and offer me a job, I'd take it. I wouldn't even have to think about it. I'd cancel any future interviews. I want to work there." Something about the culture at Park Lane was a perfect fit for Eli, and he felt it from the start. He loved the people he met: the principal, the other fifth grade teachers, the learning coach. Not only that, the school is right here in our district, maybe a 7-minute drive from our house. Well, goodness, it's almost as if Heavenly Father had a plan or something.

This is a mom brag moment, but seriously, I am so proud of Eli. He persevered through all his coursework at BYU-Idaho, his student teaching, that stupid science Praxis test, and then six interviews. Then, for Park Lane, he had to go back and do a teaching demo with 27 5th graders he'd never met. Nerve racking, ya think? After he prepared the demo lesson, he practiced multiple times on Amanda and Shulamith and me. Afterward, he said the real students were way better than us. He thoroughly enjoyed them.

Good thing, because come August he'll have his own classroom with his own 5th graders. He's gonna be awesome; I have no doubt. Eli has always wanted to be a teacher (like Mr. Mac), and now that dream has come true.

Super congrats, Eli! Love you so!

Where's my breakfast in bed?

For the past five years (maybe more?), I have received breakfast in bed on Mother's Day, courtesy of my youngest child, Seth. He sets his alarm to wake up in time to accomplish this before church. He usually comes into my room and says, "Happy Mother's Day, Mom! Breakfast will be coming soon." Here's one example. And another one.

This year, instead of bringing me breakfast in bed, Seth walks the flooded streets of Paraguay, for no other reason than that he loves his savior and desires to follow his admonition to "feed my sheep." He has now been out on his mission nine months. That's pretty long, I keep telling myself. It's even long enough to carry a baby to term, and you know how awfully long that feels, my dear mothers? Well, this mission has felt equally long. I've said it before; missionary mom-hood is not for wimps.

And I'm kinda wimpy, so.

Determined to make every holiday wonderful even though I miss Seth, yesterday Shulamith and I did our annual Mother's Day girls' day out. It was especially awesome this year. As I've said before, this day should more accurately be called, "How much food can two women stuff into their bodies in 12 hours?" We started with Krispy Kremes first thing in the morning, fresh and hot! Limiting ourselves to two each, we headed to the mall for massages. If you've never had a massage at Fashion Place Mall, I recommend it. These guys are so strong! When they say they do Chinese deep tissue massage, they aren't kidding.

From there, we headed to our all-time favorite Chinese restaurant, Fortune Cookie. Again, if you haven't been there, it's worth the drive to Riverton. I promise. Order the Crispy Beef. You're welcome.

We finished just in time to make it to a movie, and guess what? The theatre had reclining seats! I'm not even kidding. Matt's earlier comment about these seats, "This is a game changer" is 100% on point. Usually during movies, my knees get sore, stuck in one position for so long, Not anymore:

After movie popcorn, it was nearly time to eat again. Ahhhhhhh! But just as we were getting into the car, I gracefully spilled my newly-refilled, giant Diet Coke all over me. Yep, drenched right through. So cold! We sped home so I could change, then raced downtown to The Melting Pot, just 10 minutes late for our reservation. Whoa! Fortunately, dining at The Melting Pot is relaxing and never feels rushed. We enjoyed our fondue (both cheese and chocolate). It was a lovely dinner.

So question. What is the worst thing two women could possibly do after eating all day? Go!!

If you said try on swimsuits, you'd be right; nevertheless, that's exactly what we did. At three different stores. Clothes off. Swimsuits on. Swimsuits off. Clothes on. Over and over. You get the idea. It was hilarious. "I wonder what this might look like if we hadn't just eaten 3,000 calories?" I found nothing. Nada. Gar nichts. Shulamith found one seriously cute top, the only downside, the $88 price tag. She left it at the store.

We were both so tired by then but wanted to pick up cheesecake for the next day. Visions of lying in bed after church, intermittently napping and taking bites of rich, creamy cheesecake kept us motivated to wait in the giant takeout line at Cheesecake Factory.

And here I am, lying in bed, blogging, napping, and eating lemon raspberry cheesecake. Also, waiting to hear from Seth, and trying so hard not to fret about that. He transferred Tuesday, and I have no idea about his new area or what access he may or may not have to technology. Also, it's been raining and flooding all week. I heard on Facebook that President Hansen even asked the missionaries to stay inside one whole day. Thank you President and Sister Hansen for taking care of my baby, the one who didn't bring me breakfast in bed this morning, the one who walks the flooded streets of Paraguay.

The one I love so fiercely and miss so intensely.

It's been a good weekend, really good. Today, Isaiah and Shulamith and Matt (maybe?) and I will go to Macaroni Grill for dinner, the only way to catch a glimpse of  Eli and Amanda. Such hard workers they are. BTW, I have some exciting news about Eli, and that will def be the next blog post, so stay tuned,

Meanwhile, I look forward to Mother's Day 2021, when I'll have breakfast in bed and a hug from my baby.

May the 4th. And the 5th too. Joy and Trials

It's been quite a weekend. Today in church, someone commented that if we're going through life feeling happy and joyful, we're doing something wrong because life is supposed to be filled with trials. I disagree. There are trials for sure, but there is also much joy.

Yesterday, Gerald and I hosted a get-together for local parents of missionaries serving in the Paraguay Asuncion Mission. It was a resounding success, just as I knew it would be. Put a bunch of missionary parents together (especially those with kids serving in the same mission), and it's a sure win. There's a bond you can't even imagine. I know this because I did the exact same thing once before, in 2013, when Eli was serving in the Arkansas Little Rock Mission. Well, here's that account if you're interested.

Around 20 parents were here yesterday, one couple from way up in Logan and several from down south in the Provo area, and others in between. Our house was a good central location. They all brought delicious food, but barely stopped talking long enough to eat it. It took all my strength to corral them outside for a picture; they had to stop talking long enough. A few came after this was taken, but here you go:

(photo cred: Isaiah Erichsen)

It's always a special treat to meet the mamas whose sons are close to my missionary. Two such moms were here yesterday, Tiffany (mom to Elder Gutierrez) and Elisa (mom to Elder Winward). Both these moms have raised awesome sons, who are amazing missionaries and such good friends to Seth. I am so grateful to both of them.

Once everyone left, I reviewed my Sunday School lesson and then crashed. The next day, today, would be May the 5th. Not my favorite. The lady at church this morning was partly right. There are many trials we face here, much adversity. No one is exempt. Today is the anniversary of the day my dad passed away. It's never an easy time for me. Well, once again, if you'd like to read about it, here it is.

But today was more joyful than most of these anniversaries have been through the years, and that is because of Eli's wife, Amanda. When our children grow up and marry, we have zero input regarding their choice of a spouse, yet that choice will affect us forever. It almost doesn't seem fair! We should at least get a vote. But nope. When Eli chose Amanda, he found a loving young woman, who knows how to care for others. She decided that throughout this entire day, I would never be alone. And I wasn't. We mostly worked on helping Eli prepare for his teaching demo tomorrow, part of the interview process for a job he's applying for. We also ate good food and talked and laughed and hung out together. Thank you, Amanda.

And Eli...you chose well, dude.

May the 4th: The joy of a group of parents, bonded forever because their beloved children walk the flooded streets of Paraguay.

May the 5th: Joy, even through trials, because family members help us walk the path of mortality.