Once upon a time, a couple lived in the daylight basement apartment of the wife's parents' home. It was a lovely arrangement in every way. The husband was a full time student and also worked hard at a restaurant, so his life was extremely busy. One day, his wife was feeding their 9-month-old baby, preparing to go "mall walking" with her mom because the February snow prevented them from walking outside. The husband, who had lots of homework, said, "I'm going to wait to do my homework until you and Baby leave, so it will be quiet and I won't be distracted." The wife thought this was an excellent idea.
When it came time for her to leave, the wife said, "Okay, we're leaving. You're going to do your homework, right?"
"Right!" said the husband.
Her mom, upstairs also preparing to leave, questioned her 12-year-old son (the wife's little brother): "You're going to practice the piano while I'm gone, right?"
"Right!" said the son.
As the wife, her baby, and her mom loaded into the car, the wife remembered that she left her phone in the house. "I'd better go get it," she said, "just in case my husband needs me for something."
She ran back into the house and quickly went downstairs to find her phone. "I'm just here getting my phone," she explained, thinking her husband would be there studying. He wasn't. "Is he in the bathroom?" she wondered. Nope. Not there either. Hmmm.
Baffled, she headed back upstairs, where she found her little brother lying on the couch, attempting to act all nonchalant but not really succeeding and certainly not practicing the piano. Still confused, she looked around. It took a beat or two, but finally saw it---a still, human form hidden under a blanket in the rocking chair, covered head to toe.
"Really?" she said. "Really???"
Busted, the husband poked his head out from under the blanket with a sheepish smile.
And the husband, along with the little brother, lived happily ever after playing video-games and avoiding homework and the piano.
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
Montana Memories
This evening, as I was unloading the dishwasher, I picked up a tall red mug with white circles. On the bottom of the mug, in black, were four numbers: "2007." I cradled the mug in my hands for just a second.
Montana memories.
When we left Billings 18 months ago, we left many friends behind, but with us we took endless memories. We never intended to stay there indefinitely; always, we knew one day we would leave, move on, continue our lives in a different and (hopefully) larger city. Always we knew this. So it wasn't sad when we left; it was the opposite really. It was exactly what we wanted. My heart was in Utah long before we actually moved here, like a good two years before. Moreover, it took a good two years of plotting and planning to make a relocation of this magnitude a reality. After a year and a half here in the Salt Lake Valley, I'm certain it was the right decision. We are happy here. Very.
Still, there are times, like this past week, when the memories of Montana are right close. The red mug was an enrichment project from way back in 2007, when I served as president of the Metra Ward Relief Society. Celeste would come up with these ridiculous craft ideas, in this case ceramics. Seriously, can you visualize me trying to do ceramics?! It was a disaster waiting to happen. As always, though, either she or Lisa jumped in to rescue me by doing the project for me. And now I have this lovely mug as a forever keepsake. Who else still has her mug? Celeste? Lindsey? Lisa? Teresa? Kim? Mandy, were you even in the ward yet? I'm thinking maybe not. For a long time I kept the mug on the very top shelf of my kitchen cupboard, so it would remain safe [read: unused.] Why is it down and in use today? Probably because our dog, Kitty, has chewed up every single cup we used to own, so now we're forced to drink out of coffee mugs. I might need to take this particular one out of circulation, however. I'd be so sad if anything happened to it.
Montana memories.
Just yesterday on Facebook, someone posted a report of the 100 best places to raise children. Portland, where I was raised, was 74th. Seattle was 54th. Salt Lake City didn't make the list. Guest what city came in third? Billings, Montana! Isaiah and Eli basically grew up in Billings; they were 13 and 11, respectively, when we moved there. It was a good place.
I suppose another event that evoked this sappy display of nostalgia was that Gerald and I were asked to substitute teach our ward's Gospel Doctrine class last Sunday. Isn't it weird how such a simple thing can take us right back to an earlier time? We had only one night's notice, but as we discussed the lesson that night and the following morning before church, I might as well have been right back in Billings. As we taught the lesson, all those crazy good feelings from the time we shared that calling washed over me with vengeance. I was so there. Over a year has passed. We have different callings in our ward here; Gerald is a Ward Missionary, and I am part of the Relief Society Presidency. But for those 40 minutes last Sunday, we were Gospel Doctrine teachers once again, and oooh baby was it ever fun!
Montana memories.
Montana memories.
When we left Billings 18 months ago, we left many friends behind, but with us we took endless memories. We never intended to stay there indefinitely; always, we knew one day we would leave, move on, continue our lives in a different and (hopefully) larger city. Always we knew this. So it wasn't sad when we left; it was the opposite really. It was exactly what we wanted. My heart was in Utah long before we actually moved here, like a good two years before. Moreover, it took a good two years of plotting and planning to make a relocation of this magnitude a reality. After a year and a half here in the Salt Lake Valley, I'm certain it was the right decision. We are happy here. Very.
Still, there are times, like this past week, when the memories of Montana are right close. The red mug was an enrichment project from way back in 2007, when I served as president of the Metra Ward Relief Society. Celeste would come up with these ridiculous craft ideas, in this case ceramics. Seriously, can you visualize me trying to do ceramics?! It was a disaster waiting to happen. As always, though, either she or Lisa jumped in to rescue me by doing the project for me. And now I have this lovely mug as a forever keepsake. Who else still has her mug? Celeste? Lindsey? Lisa? Teresa? Kim? Mandy, were you even in the ward yet? I'm thinking maybe not. For a long time I kept the mug on the very top shelf of my kitchen cupboard, so it would remain safe [read: unused.] Why is it down and in use today? Probably because our dog, Kitty, has chewed up every single cup we used to own, so now we're forced to drink out of coffee mugs. I might need to take this particular one out of circulation, however. I'd be so sad if anything happened to it.
Montana memories.
Just yesterday on Facebook, someone posted a report of the 100 best places to raise children. Portland, where I was raised, was 74th. Seattle was 54th. Salt Lake City didn't make the list. Guest what city came in third? Billings, Montana! Isaiah and Eli basically grew up in Billings; they were 13 and 11, respectively, when we moved there. It was a good place.
I suppose another event that evoked this sappy display of nostalgia was that Gerald and I were asked to substitute teach our ward's Gospel Doctrine class last Sunday. Isn't it weird how such a simple thing can take us right back to an earlier time? We had only one night's notice, but as we discussed the lesson that night and the following morning before church, I might as well have been right back in Billings. As we taught the lesson, all those crazy good feelings from the time we shared that calling washed over me with vengeance. I was so there. Over a year has passed. We have different callings in our ward here; Gerald is a Ward Missionary, and I am part of the Relief Society Presidency. But for those 40 minutes last Sunday, we were Gospel Doctrine teachers once again, and oooh baby was it ever fun!
Montana memories.
Monday, February 11, 2013
10,000 Page Views - Woo hoo!
My last post brought my total page views up over the 10,000 mark. Now I know that really isn't very many, especially since it's taken me nearly four years to get there. Gerald most likely gets that many views or more every single day for his About.com website. Still, for me and my little blog, 10,000 seems like a lot, and I was excited to see that number. Not that it's accurate necessarily; it isn't. How do I know? Because the statistics change all the time, and sometimes they decrease! For example, I'll check one day, and my page views for a particular post will be, say, 68. Then I'll check the following day, and the views for that very same post will be 62. How can they go down? It makes no sense. So no, this number is not accurate; however, I'm gonna take it. I'm gonna celebrate my 10,000 views regardless.
How will I celebrate? Hmmm. Maybe by musing over what this blog has meant to me since its inception way back on April 4th of 2009. I started the blog for a couple of reasons. First, I've always struggled to follow the age-old counsel from our church leaders to record a journal and write our personal histories. I'm simply not a journal writer. I can't imagine writing each day if I have nothing to say. I am more what you could call an essayist. I like to write around themes. Second, writing is therapy for me, and it's way cheaper than either a psychiatrist or a trip to the mall. It's also way more fun than a psychiatrist and, no, not as fun as a shopping trip, but as I said, considerably cheaper. Writing does, indeed, reduce my crappy anxiety. Sometimes, if I'm feeling super stressed, just opening a new window for a blog post helps calm my fears. As I write, I can feel the tension escaping, little by little, as I put the sentences and paragraphs together. By the time I finish, sometimes I can even relax enough to sleep!
I had no idea, though, all the other ways this blog would benefit and improve my life. That is mostly because I had no idea how many people would read it. I thought my immediate family might read it, some of them anyway. I knew Gerald and Shulamith would read it; I didn't know whether my sons would. I thought maybe my brother would check it out. And maybe Lindsey and Celeste. Possibly Mandy. Perhaps, at the very outside, Patty and Lorrie. I really didn't think it would go any further than that. Instead, though, the blog has attracted a much larger audience. Some who read it are folks I know well; others are people I know only as casual acquaintances; still others are those I honestly do not know at all. It's crazy. Most do not comment, either onto the blog itself or on Facebook, so I'm continually surprised when someone says, "Hey, I loved that post about __________." Really? You read it? Thanks!
No, I had no idea back in April of 2009 that I'd ever, in my entire lifetime, reach 10,000 page views. Not in my wildest dreams. More importantly, though, the blog has for sure fulfilled its original purposes. Each year, I assemble all the posts for that year into a hardcover book to keep for posterity. Maybe it's not exactly what the brethren intended when they asked us to keep a written record of our lives, but I think it works. And the blog has absolutely saved me from some pretty severe anxiety attacks or at least served to lessen the symptoms.
So let me take this opportunity to say "thank you" to everyone who reads it. Thank you for allowing me to share a little bit of my world with you, crazy and unorthodox as it may be: The things that make me happy, the things that make me sad, the things that make me passionate, the things that make me laugh, the things that make me mad, the things that make me nostalgic, the things that make me jubilant, the things that make me grateful, and all the other things that simply make me, me. Thank you.
10,000 page views - Woo hoo!
How will I celebrate? Hmmm. Maybe by musing over what this blog has meant to me since its inception way back on April 4th of 2009. I started the blog for a couple of reasons. First, I've always struggled to follow the age-old counsel from our church leaders to record a journal and write our personal histories. I'm simply not a journal writer. I can't imagine writing each day if I have nothing to say. I am more what you could call an essayist. I like to write around themes. Second, writing is therapy for me, and it's way cheaper than either a psychiatrist or a trip to the mall. It's also way more fun than a psychiatrist and, no, not as fun as a shopping trip, but as I said, considerably cheaper. Writing does, indeed, reduce my crappy anxiety. Sometimes, if I'm feeling super stressed, just opening a new window for a blog post helps calm my fears. As I write, I can feel the tension escaping, little by little, as I put the sentences and paragraphs together. By the time I finish, sometimes I can even relax enough to sleep!
I had no idea, though, all the other ways this blog would benefit and improve my life. That is mostly because I had no idea how many people would read it. I thought my immediate family might read it, some of them anyway. I knew Gerald and Shulamith would read it; I didn't know whether my sons would. I thought maybe my brother would check it out. And maybe Lindsey and Celeste. Possibly Mandy. Perhaps, at the very outside, Patty and Lorrie. I really didn't think it would go any further than that. Instead, though, the blog has attracted a much larger audience. Some who read it are folks I know well; others are people I know only as casual acquaintances; still others are those I honestly do not know at all. It's crazy. Most do not comment, either onto the blog itself or on Facebook, so I'm continually surprised when someone says, "Hey, I loved that post about __________." Really? You read it? Thanks!
No, I had no idea back in April of 2009 that I'd ever, in my entire lifetime, reach 10,000 page views. Not in my wildest dreams. More importantly, though, the blog has for sure fulfilled its original purposes. Each year, I assemble all the posts for that year into a hardcover book to keep for posterity. Maybe it's not exactly what the brethren intended when they asked us to keep a written record of our lives, but I think it works. And the blog has absolutely saved me from some pretty severe anxiety attacks or at least served to lessen the symptoms.
So let me take this opportunity to say "thank you" to everyone who reads it. Thank you for allowing me to share a little bit of my world with you, crazy and unorthodox as it may be: The things that make me happy, the things that make me sad, the things that make me passionate, the things that make me laugh, the things that make me mad, the things that make me nostalgic, the things that make me jubilant, the things that make me grateful, and all the other things that simply make me, me. Thank you.
10,000 page views - Woo hoo!
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
Irony
Several years ago (like maybe 12?), Isaiah was playing on a kids' soccer team. Let's be clear. For the most part, in our family, we don't raise athletes. Eli loved sports and played on many different teams through the years. He was pretty average in ability, and he had fun. But a star athlete he would never be. Shulamith played softball, soccer, and basketball as a kid, and was very much like Eli. The other three boys fared less well. They are gifted in so many areas, primarily academic, but oh how they struggle with physical activities.
Which brings us back to Isaiah. By the time he was 8 or 9, the "everyone gets to play equally" rule was long in the past. Winning was now the single goal, and Isaiah spent nearly all his time sitting on the bench. I hated watching that. On the other hand, I also trembled inside on those rare occasions that he was put in the game, knowing he wouldn't play well, and people would be unkind. Motherhood is not for wimps. Eventually, the time would come when he would decide soccer was not for him, but sometime before then, he made perhaps his most ironic and hilarious comment, one I will never forget. In his childhood attempt to make a sense of a world in which certain things (all sports) were so terribly difficult while other things (reading, writing, math, computers, everything related to school) were so easy, he declared:
"I'm actually a pretty good soccer player. I'm just not good at scoring goals."
And why did I think of this recently? Because of other ironic statements that have circulated our home, ones that make me laugh out loud. Yes, today I can laugh at Isaiah's statement. Today I can laugh because he has grown into an amazing, confident, caring, and extremely intelligent young man. And the fact that he wasn't good at sports as a kid and probably never will be makes no difference whatsoever. Back then, I didn't laugh. Back then, I'd have given anything to make him the star soccer player. Just once. Back then, the mom in me, who so desperately yearned for his success because he wanted it so badly, couldn't laugh.
So the other day, Gerald pronounced with the determination the only he can muster:
"I'm really good at looking for things. I'm just not good at finding them."
Irony. Isn't it great? Gerald spends copious amounts of time searching for things and sometimes actually finds them, but not usually, and it takes a really long time.
At that, Shulamith chimed in with this brilliant piece of information:
"Mom is really good at dieting. She's just not good at losing weight."
True that. I've been fighting the same final five pounds, the absence of which would give me the body of my dreams (at least I'm pretty sure it would), for as long as I can remember. I will not give up. I will master this. These five stupid pounds will not defeat me.
So that is my contribution to the world today, three statements of irony from my wonderful family. I hope they give you reason to smile.
Which brings us back to Isaiah. By the time he was 8 or 9, the "everyone gets to play equally" rule was long in the past. Winning was now the single goal, and Isaiah spent nearly all his time sitting on the bench. I hated watching that. On the other hand, I also trembled inside on those rare occasions that he was put in the game, knowing he wouldn't play well, and people would be unkind. Motherhood is not for wimps. Eventually, the time would come when he would decide soccer was not for him, but sometime before then, he made perhaps his most ironic and hilarious comment, one I will never forget. In his childhood attempt to make a sense of a world in which certain things (all sports) were so terribly difficult while other things (reading, writing, math, computers, everything related to school) were so easy, he declared:
"I'm actually a pretty good soccer player. I'm just not good at scoring goals."
And why did I think of this recently? Because of other ironic statements that have circulated our home, ones that make me laugh out loud. Yes, today I can laugh at Isaiah's statement. Today I can laugh because he has grown into an amazing, confident, caring, and extremely intelligent young man. And the fact that he wasn't good at sports as a kid and probably never will be makes no difference whatsoever. Back then, I didn't laugh. Back then, I'd have given anything to make him the star soccer player. Just once. Back then, the mom in me, who so desperately yearned for his success because he wanted it so badly, couldn't laugh.
So the other day, Gerald pronounced with the determination the only he can muster:
"I'm really good at looking for things. I'm just not good at finding them."
Irony. Isn't it great? Gerald spends copious amounts of time searching for things and sometimes actually finds them, but not usually, and it takes a really long time.
At that, Shulamith chimed in with this brilliant piece of information:
"Mom is really good at dieting. She's just not good at losing weight."
True that. I've been fighting the same final five pounds, the absence of which would give me the body of my dreams (at least I'm pretty sure it would), for as long as I can remember. I will not give up. I will master this. These five stupid pounds will not defeat me.
So that is my contribution to the world today, three statements of irony from my wonderful family. I hope they give you reason to smile.
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
"Power Showers" and Finding the Good Things
September always feels like a very long month, which is ironic because it has only 30 days. But January? Ugh! It just goes on and on and on. January, 2013 has been particularly cold; it has felt more like Billings, Montana than Salt Lake City, and many days have actually been colder here than in Billings. As a naturally cold person, I find it hard to get warm once I've been outside. Sometimes only a hot shower will do the trick, and I've taken many of what I call "power showers" this month. Their purpose is not to get clean, but to get warm! With the freezing temps and relentless snow, this month has lived up to its reputation for being the l-o-n-g-e-s-t month of the year.
Nevertheless, I have searched for and found (!) many good things to compensate for the weather and even one thing to embrace and rejoice about it. Let me tell you about them, in no particular order:
1. I made my very first loaf of homemade bread. Those of you who know me will understand how huge this is. I am not a cook. I am certainly not a baker. I'm just mom, who gives thanks daily that her children have not starved to death through the years. On my own, I would have never considered baking bread. But Shulamith is way braver than I am, and she did it one day while I was at school. The second I got home, she gave me a yummy slice of fresh, warm bread, and then she insisted that I make some myself. With her directing my every move, I did it. And it was delicious...like really! And easy. Shocking.
2. I have jumped back on the diet and exercise wagon after a very "off" holiday season. We have averaged 2 - 3 times a week at the gym, either taking classes or working out on our own. On the days we can't get there, we at least do mall-walking. Swen sometimes agrees to ride in his stroller, and when he won't, we figure we're burning more calories taking turns carrying an extra 20 pounds. I've been faithful to my low-fat eating routine, without a break, the entire month, and I can feel the results; most of those holiday pounds are thankfully gone. Can I tell you I'm sick of dieting, however?
3. We got to speak in church this past Sunday. We thought we weren't on the schedule until March, but the speakers for this week must have cancelled? Their loss - our gain! It was super fun, as always. Gerald spoke on "Good Works," and I spoke on "Kindness." Though we don't share our talks ahead of time, they complemented each other nicely. Will they still let us speak in March? Doubtful, but I can always dream.
4. Seth and I are reading the Book of Mormon together, using a computer-generated plan that divides the book into 365 equal sections. We LOVE it! The amount we read each day is so manageable, even for Seth, and that gives us time to discuss what we read. He claims he's going on a mission in 5/1/2 years (sigh), so this is great training.
5. I, finally, began letting Seth walk home from school occasionally. Since his accident, I've been scared to let him cross the street (80th S.) where he was hit. There is no crossing guard, and he was right inside the crosswalk when he was hit, so it's hard for me not to worry. I realize that I'm a crazy, anxious, over-the-top worry mom, but I think any mom (even normals ones) would feel my angst. Gerald drives Seth to school each morning, but a couple times this month, I've let him walk home. I make him text me before he crosses the street and then after he has crossed. Poor Seth.
6. I was thrilled to watch the inauguration of President Obama for his second term, and I have high expectations for the next four years. Already, I'm delighted with the steps he is taking toward gun reform laws and immigration reform. Hooray!
7. As of the end of January, Eli has been out on his mission 10 months. As we approach the half way mark, I continue to be thankful for his courage and commitment to his mission. He is doing great work and learning so much. I miss him. Lots. But his positive, spiritual, upbeat, funny letters each week are all I need to persevere through the next 14 months. Knowing how happy he is, how can I not be happy too?
8. Even in the snowy cold, last Sunday evening, Shulamith and I took a short walk to visit some friends who live a couple blocks around the corner from us. It was so quiet as the snow fell gently all around us. We breathed deeply and appreciated the loveliness! We had dressed for the weather, so we weren't even cold.
I won't lie. I'm beyond ready for January be be over in a couple days. I'm ready for warmer weather, but I know that's not likely just yet. In the meantime, will you join me in embracing each moment? Whatever the circumstances and whatever the weather, may we seek and find the good things that are everywhere.
And if need be, take a "Power Shower."
Nevertheless, I have searched for and found (!) many good things to compensate for the weather and even one thing to embrace and rejoice about it. Let me tell you about them, in no particular order:
1. I made my very first loaf of homemade bread. Those of you who know me will understand how huge this is. I am not a cook. I am certainly not a baker. I'm just mom, who gives thanks daily that her children have not starved to death through the years. On my own, I would have never considered baking bread. But Shulamith is way braver than I am, and she did it one day while I was at school. The second I got home, she gave me a yummy slice of fresh, warm bread, and then she insisted that I make some myself. With her directing my every move, I did it. And it was delicious...like really! And easy. Shocking.
2. I have jumped back on the diet and exercise wagon after a very "off" holiday season. We have averaged 2 - 3 times a week at the gym, either taking classes or working out on our own. On the days we can't get there, we at least do mall-walking. Swen sometimes agrees to ride in his stroller, and when he won't, we figure we're burning more calories taking turns carrying an extra 20 pounds. I've been faithful to my low-fat eating routine, without a break, the entire month, and I can feel the results; most of those holiday pounds are thankfully gone. Can I tell you I'm sick of dieting, however?
3. We got to speak in church this past Sunday. We thought we weren't on the schedule until March, but the speakers for this week must have cancelled? Their loss - our gain! It was super fun, as always. Gerald spoke on "Good Works," and I spoke on "Kindness." Though we don't share our talks ahead of time, they complemented each other nicely. Will they still let us speak in March? Doubtful, but I can always dream.
4. Seth and I are reading the Book of Mormon together, using a computer-generated plan that divides the book into 365 equal sections. We LOVE it! The amount we read each day is so manageable, even for Seth, and that gives us time to discuss what we read. He claims he's going on a mission in 5/1/2 years (sigh), so this is great training.
5. I, finally, began letting Seth walk home from school occasionally. Since his accident, I've been scared to let him cross the street (80th S.) where he was hit. There is no crossing guard, and he was right inside the crosswalk when he was hit, so it's hard for me not to worry. I realize that I'm a crazy, anxious, over-the-top worry mom, but I think any mom (even normals ones) would feel my angst. Gerald drives Seth to school each morning, but a couple times this month, I've let him walk home. I make him text me before he crosses the street and then after he has crossed. Poor Seth.
6. I was thrilled to watch the inauguration of President Obama for his second term, and I have high expectations for the next four years. Already, I'm delighted with the steps he is taking toward gun reform laws and immigration reform. Hooray!
7. As of the end of January, Eli has been out on his mission 10 months. As we approach the half way mark, I continue to be thankful for his courage and commitment to his mission. He is doing great work and learning so much. I miss him. Lots. But his positive, spiritual, upbeat, funny letters each week are all I need to persevere through the next 14 months. Knowing how happy he is, how can I not be happy too?
8. Even in the snowy cold, last Sunday evening, Shulamith and I took a short walk to visit some friends who live a couple blocks around the corner from us. It was so quiet as the snow fell gently all around us. We breathed deeply and appreciated the loveliness! We had dressed for the weather, so we weren't even cold.
I won't lie. I'm beyond ready for January be be over in a couple days. I'm ready for warmer weather, but I know that's not likely just yet. In the meantime, will you join me in embracing each moment? Whatever the circumstances and whatever the weather, may we seek and find the good things that are everywhere.
And if need be, take a "Power Shower."
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
So Glad They Aren't Drug Addicts
Shulamith was telling me how proud she is of herself because she set the table for dinner twice this past week. Yes, twice! In one week! My response, "That's two more times than I did." I must confess that I am indeed a failure mom when it comes to family dinners, a total and complete failure. Every study I've ever read on the subject shows that family dinners are important (and I assume they mean dinners around a table, one that has been set). This practice provides opportunity for children to talk about their lives, their daily achievements and struggles, their hopes for the future. In fact, these studies show that children raised in a home with regular family dinners are way less likely to become involved with illegal drugs. It's true.
Knowing this, I'm pretty sure it's one of life's miracles of grace that not one of my five kids has become a drug addict. And I am so thankful. Though this post may seem lighthearted, I mean that sincerely. You see, I'm just terrible at family dinners. I think we might have done them more often when we lived in Washington, when Gerald worked days. But for the past eight years, he has worked swing shift, so he's not home for dinner. And I'm just a very casual person about food. As you already know, I'm a terrible cook. Well I'm no better at making a table look good. I had a friend in Washington who seriously enjoyed the process of setting a table more than she enjoyed the actual meal. I never understood this, but her tables were so elegant. However, when the food isn't all that great and the table doesn't look good either, it's hard to be motivated, despite all the evidence about how healthy and important family dinners are.
The seven years we were in Montana, I tried to do family dinners once a week on Sunday. Everyone was home that day, so we could all eat dinner together. No, I didn't exactly set the table; I let people get their own food and utensils from the kitchen. But we at least ate the meal together at the table once a week. Since moving to Utah, though, even the "once a week" deal has gone by the wayside. We generally eat in the same room (not always, but often) and around the same time. Some of us sit in the little TV nook adjacent to the kitchen; others roam around the large island bar or sit on a bar stool. And I have to say, I like it that way. The formal meal is not appealing to me. We still do it on holidays and when we have guests, but we have very few friends here, so guests are rare. Twice we've hosted the missionaries, and Mathew's parents have eaten here a few times, and we've used the table on those occasions. That's something, right?
The point is I'm just super glad my kids are not drug addicts despite my very obvious failure in this area.
Knowing this, I'm pretty sure it's one of life's miracles of grace that not one of my five kids has become a drug addict. And I am so thankful. Though this post may seem lighthearted, I mean that sincerely. You see, I'm just terrible at family dinners. I think we might have done them more often when we lived in Washington, when Gerald worked days. But for the past eight years, he has worked swing shift, so he's not home for dinner. And I'm just a very casual person about food. As you already know, I'm a terrible cook. Well I'm no better at making a table look good. I had a friend in Washington who seriously enjoyed the process of setting a table more than she enjoyed the actual meal. I never understood this, but her tables were so elegant. However, when the food isn't all that great and the table doesn't look good either, it's hard to be motivated, despite all the evidence about how healthy and important family dinners are.
The seven years we were in Montana, I tried to do family dinners once a week on Sunday. Everyone was home that day, so we could all eat dinner together. No, I didn't exactly set the table; I let people get their own food and utensils from the kitchen. But we at least ate the meal together at the table once a week. Since moving to Utah, though, even the "once a week" deal has gone by the wayside. We generally eat in the same room (not always, but often) and around the same time. Some of us sit in the little TV nook adjacent to the kitchen; others roam around the large island bar or sit on a bar stool. And I have to say, I like it that way. The formal meal is not appealing to me. We still do it on holidays and when we have guests, but we have very few friends here, so guests are rare. Twice we've hosted the missionaries, and Mathew's parents have eaten here a few times, and we've used the table on those occasions. That's something, right?
The point is I'm just super glad my kids are not drug addicts despite my very obvious failure in this area.
Friday, January 18, 2013
A Social Life in Utah - Is It Possible?
Well sort of. I think so. Hopefully.
To backtrack, let's just put it out there: I'm a social person, a true extrovert with a capital "E." I love being around people, lots of them or just a few. It is at the core of who I am. As an adult, I've lived in six different cities. When I first married, we lived in Hermiston, Oregon. From there, we moved to The Dalles, Oregon; then to Rohnert Park, California; then to Mt. Vernon, Washington; then to Billings, Montana; and now here. In those first five places, I always made friends easily. I didn't have to work at it or even consciously think about it; it just happened. I connected with people in our various wards and through activities my kids were involved in. It was easy. But it's been very different here in Utah. We've lived here exactly 1-1/2 years, and I can't say that I've made a single friend. It's so weird.
On the other hand, living in Utah provides some wonderful opportunities to connect with friends from the past. Just about everyone, it seems, comes to Salt Lake City. People visit family here. Others come here for weddings. Still others bring their kids to college or to the MTC. It's fabulous! Since moving here, I've enjoyed visits with many close friends from the past, including Trudy, Celeste, Lindsey, Mandy, Patty, and probably others I'm forgetting. I LOVE this!
Also, because of Eli's mission and the magic of Facebook connections, I've been able to meet new friends who live in other places and come here for some of the same reasons mentioned above. Over the holidays, we were able to go to dinner with Cheryl and Vince Longshore from Arlington, Tennessee. Eli is currently living in their home. How amazing it was to meet them and talk to them and especially to hear firsthand about our Elder Webster. Then just last week, we were able to meet and visit with Tom and Linda Boatman from Arizona, who were here briefly before reporting to the MTC en route to the Arkansas Little Rock Mission. So excited for them! They feel like forever friends, even though that was the first time we met in person.
So yeah, the social scene here is alive and well when it comes to people who don't actually live here. But I'd still like to make some sort of connections with those who do. So I decided to actively do something about that, rather than just complain. When I lived in Billings, several of us would meet weekly at McDonald's (because of the play area) and just chill, chat, and chew, while our kids played. It was one of the highlights of my week. So I thought "Why couldn't that work here?" I asked Shulamith what she thought about it, and she was down, so we started small and invited one person to join us for lunch this past Thursday at Burger King. Jennilyn not only agreed, but she invited one other person, Rachael. Yay!!! It was a super fun lunch with four of us hanging out and the kids playing. It made me really miss Lindsey and Celeste and Mandy, but I always miss them, so it's okay. And we're already planning to do it again next week. Success!
Could this be the start of a social life in Utah? Is it possible? Should I get my hopes up? Yes, I think I will. In the meantime, I'll continue to enjoy all the passers through, all of you who come to SLC just to visit, and also the fun new friends I'm meeting as a result of Eli's mission.
To backtrack, let's just put it out there: I'm a social person, a true extrovert with a capital "E." I love being around people, lots of them or just a few. It is at the core of who I am. As an adult, I've lived in six different cities. When I first married, we lived in Hermiston, Oregon. From there, we moved to The Dalles, Oregon; then to Rohnert Park, California; then to Mt. Vernon, Washington; then to Billings, Montana; and now here. In those first five places, I always made friends easily. I didn't have to work at it or even consciously think about it; it just happened. I connected with people in our various wards and through activities my kids were involved in. It was easy. But it's been very different here in Utah. We've lived here exactly 1-1/2 years, and I can't say that I've made a single friend. It's so weird.
On the other hand, living in Utah provides some wonderful opportunities to connect with friends from the past. Just about everyone, it seems, comes to Salt Lake City. People visit family here. Others come here for weddings. Still others bring their kids to college or to the MTC. It's fabulous! Since moving here, I've enjoyed visits with many close friends from the past, including Trudy, Celeste, Lindsey, Mandy, Patty, and probably others I'm forgetting. I LOVE this!
Also, because of Eli's mission and the magic of Facebook connections, I've been able to meet new friends who live in other places and come here for some of the same reasons mentioned above. Over the holidays, we were able to go to dinner with Cheryl and Vince Longshore from Arlington, Tennessee. Eli is currently living in their home. How amazing it was to meet them and talk to them and especially to hear firsthand about our Elder Webster. Then just last week, we were able to meet and visit with Tom and Linda Boatman from Arizona, who were here briefly before reporting to the MTC en route to the Arkansas Little Rock Mission. So excited for them! They feel like forever friends, even though that was the first time we met in person.
So yeah, the social scene here is alive and well when it comes to people who don't actually live here. But I'd still like to make some sort of connections with those who do. So I decided to actively do something about that, rather than just complain. When I lived in Billings, several of us would meet weekly at McDonald's (because of the play area) and just chill, chat, and chew, while our kids played. It was one of the highlights of my week. So I thought "Why couldn't that work here?" I asked Shulamith what she thought about it, and she was down, so we started small and invited one person to join us for lunch this past Thursday at Burger King. Jennilyn not only agreed, but she invited one other person, Rachael. Yay!!! It was a super fun lunch with four of us hanging out and the kids playing. It made me really miss Lindsey and Celeste and Mandy, but I always miss them, so it's okay. And we're already planning to do it again next week. Success!
Could this be the start of a social life in Utah? Is it possible? Should I get my hopes up? Yes, I think I will. In the meantime, I'll continue to enjoy all the passers through, all of you who come to SLC just to visit, and also the fun new friends I'm meeting as a result of Eli's mission.
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