I'm okay with awkward.

Last week, Shulamith and I stopped briefly at Harmon's to pick up a couple of items we forgot on our individual weekly grocery orders. As I stood in one aisle, trying to make a quick but informed choice, another shopper came up behind me, her mask worn way down under her nose. I immediately stepped away from her and hurried the other way (without the grocery item I needed), as she shouted after me, "Oh, you're good!" Apparently she thought I was leaving because she was in my way. Nope! And I'm not "good" either. I'm not good with people frequenting public establishments with their masks down under their noses. I get that they are significantly more comfortable worn that way, but they're also completely ineffective!

Then today, we were getting Mod Pizza to eat in the outside dining area, and the employee who was checking us out also had her lovely mask way down below her nose. Are you kidding? This is a restaurant. I distanced myself way back from her, reaching awkwardly to insert my debit card into the reader, and then hurried outside. 

Unfortunately, this casual response to a global pandemic that has now killed over a million people worldwide is promoted by some of our country's most influential people, including the current POTUS, who mocked his opponent in the debate (debacle?) Tuesday night, saying, "He could be speaking 200 feet away and he shows up with the biggest mask I've ever seen." Is it any wonder so many people refuse to comply with mask mandates designed to protect us when the nation's leader is this complacent? 

But I guess from a guy who can't even speak the four simple words "I condemn white supremacy," what can we expect? When you don't care about anyone but yourself, mask-wearing becomes inconsequential. And if you're smarter than the most skilled and educated scientists who tell you masks drastically slow the spread of this virus, and therefore, save lives, why would you wear one? And if that same scientific community tells you we are in a climate crisis, why would you listen?

But I digress.

Back to masks.

Wear your masks properly, people, and stay 6 ft. away from me. Otherwise, you and I will experience "awkward." And I don't much care. 

I'm okay with awkward.

Weekend Words

Two entirely unrelated things happened this weekend, but I decided to put them together anyway to complete my blog posts for September (unless something else cool happens in the next three days). 

Yesterday, Shulamith and I went to Bluffdale to check on house-building progress, and guess what? We have walls! And flooring! And it's pretty crazy the difference walls and flooring make. Well just look here:

But there's even better news than this. Everyone, pay attention here! Shulamith's house is finally scheduled to be dug. This coming week! That means the next time we drive down to Bluffdale, we should see the most beautiful hole, right where her house will be. Oh my goodness, I can't even wait!

Then today I had what's commonly known as a "Proud Mom Moment," only this time it was more like a "Proud Mom Couple of Hours." At 9:00 a.m. Seth gave his mission homecoming talk in the 4th Ward, which is the ward we were in when he left on his mission just over two years ago. He spoke in our current ward two weeks ago, but only for five minutes, and he knew not one person in the room besides those from our immediate family plus one friend who came to hear him. Today, he got to speak for 15 minutes to a room filled with many familiar (though masked) faces, and I think he really enjoyed this experience. He talked about keeping the Spirit in our lives and how to do that and why it's so important. It was awesome! Gerald watched it at home via Zoom.

Once that meeting ended, I jumped in my car and headed south to Herriman, where Eli and Amanda were both giving talks in their new ward. Unfortunately, my phone somehow didn't get charged last night, so by the time I was driving to Herriman, it was nearly dead. This might have been very bad because I had only an address for Eli and Amanda's church building. I waited until I was near their house to use my GPS and prayed the phone would stay charged enough to get me to the church. It did. Barely. It died literally as I pulled into the church parking lot.

Both their talks were excellent. Amanda spoke about her gratitude for living prophets and pointed out how long before we knew anything about the upcoming pandemic, President Nelson shifted our focus to a home-centered, church-supported program. Eli gave examples and non-examples of ancient and modern cultures and their experiences following (or not) prophetic counsel.

All in all, it's been a lovely weekend, and the next one promises to be even better. 

Who's excited for General Conference? Woo!

 

I love my family, but I HATE feeding them!

Most of you know how much I love my family. A friend and older lady who has no children of her own once commented, "Terrianne is a fierce mother." That's possibly the nicest compliment anyone has ever paid me. I do love my family, but may I say right here:

I HATE feeding them.

You have no idea what I'm up against. It's not so much that they have unusual preferences; it's that each of them has his or her own little food quirks, the one or two things he or she won't eat, or the one food category that is off limits. Well, let me clarify:

Gerald won't eat mammals. This includes, among other things, all beef and pork. He also won't eat mayonnaise or mustard or any foods containing those.

Shulamith won't eat fruits or vegetables. If the veggie chunks are large enough, she is willing to pick them out of dishes, but if a fruit comes within six feet of her plate, it's game over. 

Isaiah, who has traveled the world and eaten the cuisine of 14 different countries on 5 continents, won't eat a hamburger or a cold deli sandwich. 

Seth hates anything cooked in a crock pot, and he also detests ground turkey. He reminds me of the old lady from the Wendy's commercial once upon a time: "Where's the beef?"

Eli gets sick at the thought of all seafood, but especially shrimp. And he'll only eat deli meat if it's sliced razor thin.

Mathew won't eat onions or mushrooms. He can deal with some chopped onions in recipes, but absolutely no mushrooms, even cream of mushroom soup.

Amanda doesn't like any Asian food and believes sweet food does not go with savory food, and sweet food cannot be for dinner, only for treats.

Are you confused yet??? 

In their defense, all these lovely people are quick to say that I should make whatever I want and not worry about them. They can always find something else to eat, they say. Of course that's true, but here's the thing. We don't do the weekly or every-other-week family dinner, so typical here in the Utah (LDS) culture, so on the rare occasion that we do have everyone together for a holiday or birthday celebration, yes, I want everyone to be able to eat!

And I don't want to have to choose who can't. 

Do I omit all red meat so Gerald will eat? Or do I choose a beef recipe so Seth will? Do I make a yummy Asian recipe and exclude Amanda, or a delicious casserole with cream of mushroom soup and exclude Matt? Do I prepare a tasty, fruity dessert and exclude Shulamith, or do I grill burgers and exclude Isaiah?

Add to this that I'm a subpar cook, so my options are limited in the first place. Ugh! No matter what I prepare, I feel like I have to apologize to someone. 

On the upside, sometimes a glorious thing happens, and people cook for me. During the two years Eli and Amanda lived here, that happened once or twice a week. It was amazing! Dinner was just presented to me; I didn't have to choose the meal, shop for the food, cook it, or clean up. When they left, I thought those days were over, but recently, Isaiah has started cooking, and twice this month, he has done the same thing. Here's what he gave me a couple nights ago:

Asian noodles with pork in a curry sauce with green onions. Mmmmm! And he cleaned everything thoroughly and left the kitchen sparkling. (Of course this wouldn't work for Amanda or Gerald because it's Asian and includes pork.)

Haha, I sure do love my family.

But I HATE feeding them.

Try Something Relaxing, Like Painting or Ceramics, (they said)!

Well not "they." 

He.

My doctor.

With my debilitating anxiety disorder, you will not be surprised to learn that I tend to avoid doctors, to use the proverbial simile: Like the plague. I avoid them until my inner sense of duty takes over, and I realize that there are a couple annual or biennial screenings that do need to be done. Eeek! Knowing these medical appointments will shoot my anxiety right into the stratosphere, I usually spread them out over several months, but this year I had a different idea. What if I scheduled all these appointments (including the dentist, which also scares me spitless) in the same week? That way I would have one horrifying week, but then it would be over, and (once all test results came back clear), I could enjoy the remaining 50-51 weeks of the year.

As I sat in one of these healthcare provider's offices (Day 2 of my weeklong visits with medical personnel), just ever so shy of a full-on panic attack (!), he decided to ask me about my anxiety and what steps I take to reduce it.

"WELL, I TRY TO SYSTEMATICALLY AVOID DOCTORS...DUH!" 

I wanted to shout this in is face, but shouting in people's faces is a bad idea these days, and also, he was really such a nice dude that I refrained. You see, I don't have a personal physician, like someone I see regularly. I have no health issues other than anxiety, so when I force myself to brave up and go do these damn screenings, I see whomever happens to be available. It makes zero difference to me who that is. They are all terrifying.

I tell you that so you'll give this nice guy a break when I tell you the rest of the story. He doesn't know me from Eve. When he asked what steps I take to reduce anxiety, I promptly gave all the right answers:

• relaxation 
• meditation
• yoga poses
• breathing techniques
• regular exercise
• healthy food
• no alcohol
• no tobacco

"Do you drink coffee?" he wanted to know.

"Nope, I drink Diet Coke."

"Me too; it's my favorite," he replied.

Well, look at that. We're BFFs already. Soulmates really.

Then came the most hilarious part of the visit. In a genuine, caring attempt to help me better control my anxiety, he kindly suggested that I "try something relaxing, like painting or ceramics." It was all I could do to hold in the laughter that was bursting inside every part of my body. The irony is that if I wanted to find two things that would most efficiently increase my anxiety, I can't think of two better candidates than painting and ceramics! 

Again, the guy doesn't know me. I didn't want to be rude. Or disrespectful. He had already surpassed my expectations when, as an introduction, he said, "Hi Terrianne. I'm Michael Strombly." I am so impressed with doctors when they aren't so arrogant that they call you by your first name but expect you to use the courtesy title "Dr." and their last name. He didn't do that. Yay!

I told him writing is my sole creative outlet (other than speaking in church, and I only get to do that when they let me), and I promised to do lots more blogging.

Then I got the hell out of there because oh my goodness, those places are bad for me.

P.S. Screenings all came back clear. Good to go for at least a year.

"Imma take this money and run. Love ya!"

This past Friday we closed on the sale of our home, and half the proceeds were handed to me in a check made out to Shulamith! 

Backstory, nine years ago when we moved to Utah, Gerald was still employed in Montana, and I was happily unemployed. We picked out the perfect house for all of us but soon learned that our lender couldn't use income from Montana to secure our loan. "Well that's awesome. Since we have no Utah income," I lamented. Then Shulamith (aka Olivia Pope) suggested we use her job to get the loan. She was a full-time kindergarten teacher at the time, so she had plenty of steady income. And that's exactly what we did. Gerald, Shulamith, and I all signed on the contract, and technically, we all owned the house, even though Shulamith never paid any money for it. Haha. 

As time went by, I sort of forgot she even signed on the loan, but when we listed our house for sale last month, sure enough, the title was in my name, with her and Gerald as co-signers. And Friday, when we signed at the closing, once again, the three of us sat at a table together, signing our lives away. Later when I went back to the title office to get the money, I was handed two checks in equal amounts, one made out to Gerald and me, and one made out to Shulamith. (Why they decided to give 1/4 to me, 1/4 to Gerald, and the other 1/2 to Shulamith I have no idea, but whatever.) I immediately texted her a picture of her check, to which she replied, "Imma take that money and run. Love ya!" 

She won't do that, I don't think (?), but it made me laugh. Instead, she and her family will move to Bluffdale along with us, if their house ever gets built, that is. Which leads to another messy story. Last winter, she and I contemplated moving to Bluffdale and building homes near each other in a brand new development called Edge Homes. So new was it that the first day we went out there to look, literally the only edifice that existed anywhere was a single-wide mobile home, with the logo Edge Homes, Inc. on the front, and a real estate agent inside ready to give us all the details. For miles around this mobile home, we saw only dirt. So much dirt. Mounds and mounds of dirt. The agent in the mobile home, Chase, showed us pictures and floor plans of the different styles of homes, but to see an actual house, we had to drive to Lehi or Saratoga Springs.

Way back then, I didn't believe for a second we would actually move to Bluffdale. Like really? No we won't. We had looked at several other housing developments, and we didn't move to those, so why would this be any different? But then suddenly (it seemed), Shulamith and Matt had serious money and a contract on a house to be built in Bluffdale. Say what??? So I figured I'd better get on board. We went under contract about a month after the Webster-Monsons, but even then, I didn't think it would really happen. Matt agreed. He and I understood all 30,000 things that could still go wrong. Top on the list was getting our house sold. Prepping this house for sale was a major undertaking; oh my goodness! There was so much to do in order to get top value for our investment, and I would have never been able to do that all by myself. I am eternally indebted to Shulamith, Eli, and Amanda, who all worked tirelessly by my side on so many, many projects. Forever the optimist, Shulamith was always sure everything would work out fine. 

And it will. 

Just not as soon as we'd hoped. 

Remember how Shulamith and Matt went under contract a full month before we did? Well let me just show you how things are progressing. Here is our house:

Guys! As of yesterday, we even have a tub in the upstairs kids' bathroom:

And this, right here, is Shulamith's dirt (I mean house):

Do you see the problem? Our house is dug and framed. Plumbing and HVAC have been through, and insulation will be done this next week. Anticipated completion is October 31st. Meanwhile, Shulamith's house is still nothing more than that lovely dirt we saw the first time we went out there. It's a complicated story, but it involves power lines that needed to be moved, forcing Edge to go back to the City of Bluffdale for permits a second time; slowdowns due to COVID; and on and on. She did receive notice just this past week of a very positive step toward getting this house started, which gave us some much needed hope.

One day, in the not-too-distant future, when we're both in our new houses, livin' the dream, I know all this will be just a funny memory. 

Unless....

...unless, Shulamith follows through with her original plan: "Imma take that money and run. Love ya!"

Teaching in the Time of COVID

Do I look as scared as I feel?

In case you can't tell, this is I, on my way to teach my hybrid classes at SLCC this lovely fall semester. After moving fully online last spring and remaining online through summer semester, SLCC decided to try a hybrid format this fall. Students come once a week for just 40 minutes, so I never have more than six in the classroom at any one time. Yes, it's certainly safer than in normal times when I have 24 at once, but still, I'm scared. I haven't spent 40 minutes inside a building (other than my house) with other people in six months!

My classes at UVU are still fully online, and for that I am grateful. But this past week, I put on this lovely getup and headed to SLCC to teach my hybrids. The five to six students in each session sat distanced, both from me and from each other. They stayed glued to their seats, not allowed to move around the room.  They kept their masks on. They complied willingly with all the requirements. Again, I'm grateful.

As for me, let's just say that this mask/shield deal isn't ideal for teaching, and adding reading glasses doesn't help. I wear glasses only for close-up work, so I put them on and take them off over and over throughout my classes. Reaching under the shield to do that is about as awkward as you can imagine. Then, the second I put them on, they fog up so badly that I can't see anything anyway.

Oh, and let's not forget that my claustrophobia kicks in after about 20 minutes wearing this stuff, so I have to remind myself to breathe s-l-o-w-l-y. My poor, poor students!

Do I hope someone in my class tests positive for the virus, so we all go home (online) for two weeks? Of course not! Do I hope we have a breakout on campus sufficient to send everyone home? No. Instead, I hope that in time I adjust to the mask and shield, the foggy glasses, and the claustrophobia.

And I have more respect than I can tell you for healthcare workers on the front line, who wear this stuff for 12-hour shifts. Heroes they are.

Grabbin' Grace!

When you're in the process of selling a house and building a new one; and a viral pandemic lurks about, just waiting to make you deathly ill; and you've been in two car accidents in the past month; and a new semester begins next week, you grab grace wherever you can find it. And I promise you, my dear friends, there is grace to be found, sometimes in the most unlikely places.

For example, it may seem odd to find grace in two car wrecks, but I did exactly that. The first accident was clearly my fault. Don't ask how because I have no idea, but I somehow managed to run a red light. It happened so fast, and I was so shaken and so scared. I jumped out of the car to go check on the other driver: "Are you okay?" He didn't answer my question, but instead declared, "I had the right of way; I have it here on camera." Not an iota of concern for my well-being. No grace. This made me cry, and I ran right back to my car and called Shulamith.

Not two weeks later, the second accident occurred. As the title of that post indicates, this time it wasn't my fault. I was stopped, signaling to turn left and waiting for oncoming traffic to pass, when I was rear-ended. Again, I got out of my car and ran to the other driver with the same question, "Are you okay?" She was fine physically but terribly distraught. Like me two weeks earlier, she had no idea how this happened. "Yes, I'm okay," she said. "Are you? I'm so, so sorry!" By this point her stress level escalated to where she was nearly panicking. In that moment, I was so grateful to be able to comfort her: "You're okay," I said. "All that matters is that we are both okay. That's why they call this an 'accident,' because no one meant for it to happen. Please don't worry. All is well." This calmed her. In the end, she apologized yet again but also thanked me for being so kind. Just grabbin' grace!

As you're probably aware, this past week was the Democratic National Convention. This may not be super important to you, but I come from a zealous political family, and though we are dyed-in-the-wool Democrats, I've been watching the conventions of both political parties for as long as I can remember. It's just what we do. I'm proud to say that our Isaiah is every bit as much invested in the political process as his dad and me. Gerald works nights so he couldn't watch with us, but Isaiah and I were glued to the TV all four evenings. There was so much grace there.

I spoke to another family member after Michelle Obama's speech Monday night. He said her speech made him sad, sad to see how far our country has fallen in the past 3.5 years. I get that; I do. Yet I also found hope in her message. She said she believes in the promise that is America. She said we can do better, and I agree. It's not too late. It can't be. There is too much good in this country and in the soul of its people to allow one sadistic bully, one arrogant, racist, sexist, homophobic, law-breaking narcissist to destroy us. We will fight back. We will resist. We will elect Joe Biden in November. We will grab grace! Stephen Colbert said he might have contracted a case of "The Hopes" last week. No dry cough, he said, but his face did leak several times. Mine too, Stephen. Mine too.

Finally, there is grace to be found in the simple humor of families, the endearing spirits of those closest to us, the only ones we see regularly these days, those part of our personal COVID bubbles. They make us laugh in the wake of uncertainty, and this laughter reminds us that life is still so, so good. Shulamith's 8-year-old son Swen told his mom that she probably needs to take me to a giant parking lot, so I can practice driving where I won't get in any crashes. He also suggested that I go back to college and learn how to drive.

Then there's Seth. Who thinks the only place to eat is Panda Express. Every single day:

Seth: Is there dinner tonight?

Me: Sure, what would you like?

Seth: Panda.

Me: No, I'm really tired of Panda.

Seth: Mom, I think it's Satan telling you that you don't want Panda. It's in the scriptures, I'm pretty sure, that Panda is always the right choice.

Then there's everyone else in my family, who routinely asks me every time I drive anywhere if I managed to get there without getting into a crash. So far, the answer is yes. Driving might be terrifying, but so far, no more crashes.

May you have a wonderful week ahead, as you look for grace in all things, and when you find it, grab every bit.