my jogging trail is gone

photo via ksl.com

This happened just a couple of hours ago. Crockett Ave. is a muddy river, all the houses' yards are lakes. I went to go jogging and was stuck in the mud. I am sad and overwhelmed at all the damage. I'm off with a broom and a "shuzzle" to go help clean up.

Update: Saturday at 6:30 They think a woman and her two children were in the house that collapsed. So so sad.

Update: Sunday, the boys joined a volunteer shift and shoveled soupy mud.

Update: Monday, they still have not found the bodies, Darren was allowed to walk near the breach in the canal and survey the damage. He is heartsick.

time since... fourteen months

Two of my nephews married two wonderful young women nearly 18 months ago. Both of these new brides have recently lost their mothers. Unexpectedly, gone too soon. One, on Monday before a Thursday wedding, after standing in line accepting congratulations, they then spent their first day as a married couple accepting condolences at a funeral. And just this past weekend the other couple learned their mother didn't feel well while on a drive with her husband, pulled over, became unconscious, and never woke up. This type of shock is obliterating. I want to give her some gem of advice, but know nothing makes sense right now, robotic numbness, that tin-foil shell again. One thing I have learned is that relationships, even mother and daughter, keep growing and changing even when one has "passed on." That in the future there will be moments where memory doesn't take your breath away and tears are not burning, but cleansing.

Two weeks ago, right before my mom's birthday all her daughters were in town. We spent the day doing what we would have done if she were here... Hogle Zoo. This place is forever intertwined with memories of my mother. There she taught me how to roar like a mountain lion. We all have the layout of the zoo imprinted in our subconscious, and thanks to a mom who loved to take her children here we could walk through it in our sleep... and now we continue that memory by showing her family the same "happy place."

The blonde Italian rides.

Daughter and grandson take a round on the carousel.

He must get that riding pose from his mother. (former rodeo queen)

The great-granddaughter who rides only "on the bench"

Don't tell him it's not real.

Happy Feet.

Giraffe pattern, in case you didn't figure it out.

Granddaughter and great-granddaughter explore the tiger's swimming pool.

This guy just made me laugh.

Brothers check out the reptiles or is it a bird.

After only wanting to see the snakes one grandson proclaims, "If you see a snake like this at grandpa's then you go and tell your mom and then grandpa will chop it up with a shuzzle."

Grown-up granddaughter still likes to take a "walk on the wild side"

Gorgeous granddaughter and family

Mom's family, every age, all love the train at Hogle Zoo.

Mr. J. makes funny faces. (notice the little one in the back getting in on the action)

Grandsons spin the "water ball rock"

What a good day. I thought as I was leaving the gate, "Mom would love this." And guess what, I think she did.

Watched Born into Brothels last night, amazingly beautiful while heart-wrenchingly sad at the same time. Becoming aware of situations that exist in the world rends you unable to turn away and avidly pulls you into action. I did read an update that Avijit actually attended high school in SLC at Rowland Hall. If you have a chance watch the film, it will change you.

(photo via here)

at the bird

Darren and I spent the last four days of June at the Cliff at Snowbird. He had meetings for AWRA and I lounged at the pool on the 10th floor, had a massage at the spa and thoroughly relaxed and enjoyed myself. Many people complain about the Cliff being too cold, but the exposed concrete does it for me. It seems extremely Frank Lloyd Wright, quite organic, with the low ceilings giving way to the incredible 10 story glass atrium... "compression and release" is a FLW concept. It fits in and mimics the harsh granite and steep mountains it is nestled into. I also enjoy the Asian rugs and screens and accessories, and it is amazing that they have had "green" roofs since the 70's. It is very retro and very "now" at the same time.

Darren and I were engaged at the top of the tram, so this place has added meaning for us. Maybe it mimics our marriage as well. I think Snowbird's branding is exceptional, simple, geometric and eye-catching. I was hiking up to the top of the tram, but there is still too much snow covering the trails so I eased myself down to the waterfall and decided to throw myself across it. Hmmm, there went all the benefits of the body glow wrap I had had the day before -- I was completely muddy with bloody scraped knees.

The entrance to the Cliff entices me. It appears as if you are exploring a cave in the cool gray granite mountainside. An awesome mini-vacation.

take time

I slept in today, woke up about the same time as my 16 year old. There is no rest for a mom who worries (bordering on paranoia) about a new driver out after dark. I cannot fall asleep until they are safe and sound at home and then begins the cross-examination (I believe it is supposed to be engaged conversation) about the nights activities. And then it takes a while until I settle down enough to actually drift off to dreamland. Said 16 year old went off to work in Bear Lake after wake up. I made myself a nice little brunch. Eggwhite omelet - actually scramble because I cannot flip an omelet, mango with tajin seasoning (love it) and tea. A little bird came for a visit and reminded me to relax a bit... Breathe, Sit Up Straight, Drink Water (my mantra for the past year). I stared at the overflowing flower box. It has been a nice morning into afternoon. Now my anxiety is kicking into gear because I haven't accomplished anything on my never-ending list.

this is old

Chase turned 20 today. Hmmmm... I think I have a problem with this. Puffy pancakes for breakfast and toasts of orange juice for a fine transition from teenager to 20's. No one wants to look at the camera early in the morning, except apparently Darren. Isn't that cake atrocious? Rot your insides much.

He recieved a slackline for his birthday. Tried it between trees in the back yard. Now I'm hoping that once they get the hang of it I don't find videos on the internet of them scaling across some canyon thousands of feet up.

Happy Day Chase. Life is always an adventure with you.

ho hum

I have been jogging a lot. And doing pilates. And lifting weights. Can't say it has changed me much visibly, but I feel better and stronger. I am stuck on Ani DiFranco on my ipod when I work out, especially this song:

HOSM?

Hands On Social Media. I decided to attend a free workshop in Salt Lake last night sponsored by Microsoft Office Live and Kirtsy. I am now on Twitter [@anndeo] and am bookmarking with Delicious. Now to sign up with Kirtsy and use Office Live -- wishing I had known about this when I was working with an editor on my paper. The event was at Les Madeleines bakery and their mini cupcakes are as good as in my dreams [funny, I had dreamt of eating loads and loads of cupcakes piled with creamy frosting the night before]. Lots of creative and curious ladies were in attendance and there was a lot of learning going on thanks to our host Liz Stanley. There are more workshops scheduled, check here for one in your town.

independence

Land received his driver's license yesterday and promptly drove himself to the skatepark to fly. I hope he doesn't try this with the car.

time since... thirteen months

That unlucky number. Teenagers begin. Dangerous territory. But there are those who are always there to navigate through those treacherous times. They seem untouchable, impervious to the pain and struggles that some of us are tumbled into. Saturday, I met up with my next door neighbor growing up. It's always good to have a next door best friend. Someone to get in trouble with... someone to get out of trouble with... someone to tell your troubles to. We had a particular lady in our neighborhood who guided us through those turbulent years. She was our youth leader at church, but came to be so much more. She is ethereal, magical, moves through this world with grace. We babysat her beloved children. When she made cookies she always shared, said they didn't taste as good unless you sent a portion on to someone else. She had these kissing angels on the coffee table. When she was upset at her husband she would turn them away from each other a signal that they needed to "talk" and turn once again toward. She organized the playroom, something I was particularly fascinated by -- all the fisher price people in one colored can, the animals in another and so on, I looked forward to cleaning up after the kids so I could see those colored cans all in rainbow rows on the shelf. Her family became instrumental in some of the big decision in my and my husband's life. She is in my heart always. And Saturday, my next door best friend and I went to the funeral of her oldest son who had taken his own life. A wife and three children left lingering. But, oh my, the mother. I held on to her tight and stroked her hair. I recognized that tin-foil shell, a protection barely enough to get you through the worst moments. So painful to see her struggle and not be able to take any of it away. Her husband in the only word I can think of... shock. Saying to me, you know how this is, isn't this horrible, just horrible. I ponder often of our life stories, we just never know how it will be finished. Unimaginable. Mothers are so intertwined in our narrative. The strongest and yet the most vulnerable. I thought back to over the past year and how I have grieved -- for my mother, gone. And now I grieve for this mother. Facing that wall of uncertainty and questions never answered; why?

Second Sowing by Anne Morrow Lindbergh

For whom

The milk ungiven in the breast 

When the child is gone?

For whom

The love locked up in the heart

That is left alone?

That golden yeild

Split sod once, overflowed an August field,

Threshed out in pain upon September's floor 

Now boarded high in barns a sterile store.

Break down the bolted door;

Rip open, spread and pour

The grain upon the barren ground 

Wherever crack in clod is found. 

There is no harvest for the heart alone;

The seed of love must be 

Eternally

Resown.

HD vision

I used to see like this

And now I have HD vision.

Wow... the wonder of lasers.

multiball

look at Carol the pinball wizard

Last week I had a little get together with everyone from work. You see, Dusty, pictured in the blurry cellphone pic is broke down in Boise at the moment on his way to his new home in Portland and this marks the end of an unlikely, but productive office partnership. I am really going to miss him... you get to know someone over the course of three plus years sharing a 10 by 10 workspace. That was one of my favorite things about going back to grad school and teaching. I felt young again... intimidated, competitive, creative. I was awestruck by the crazy talent of these young folk, Dusty especially. I will miss his playlists, and for that matter his lists, his tidiness, his advice for how to handle teenaged boys, his work ethic, his integrity, and his view on life. We overlooked our individual idiosyncrasies and respected and teased each other relentlessly. We have some incredible shared memories that cannot be replaced, notably the night at the Green Mill in Chicago with Motoki and especially the day we picked up Karim Rashid in Salt Lake and drove him to Logan for his presentation. We were both extremely nervous. We had studied everything about him... how to pronounce his name, his design biography. I knew about his tatoos and their secret language meaning, I bought some of his O chairs off of Craiglist and put them in the office. Dusty knew he was a DJ. We talked the entire way. Karim thought Dusty was amazing, he kept forgetting my name (he did say my face was familiar). Not many people can say they have driven for a couple hours with the designer of the Dirt Devil Kone.

Anyway, back to the get together. We all came with a presentation of advice for Dusty. I showed him how to fold a t-shirt like they do at the Gap and then we autographed it jr. high style with Sharpies. We had a great dinner and then played a heated round of pinball. I reprimand my son's for participating in "imature" guy talk. Well, it disinegrated into "imature" jokes... mostly about balls. I laughed hard. Good Riddance Dusty (in the good green day time of your life way, "not in a creepy weird way").

memory

6:00 am wake-up call
8:00 am breakfast at Dad's -- uncles and aunts and grandpa
10:00 cemetery
11:00 program -- taps is played
12:00 cemetery
1:00 lunch at the Brown Residence -- great food, great family, great prayers, great day!

it's hard to believe...

This innocent creature, who is useless as a Labrador retriever because she can't swim, could be the cause of this backyard adventure...


Khloee walked on the winter tarp to the pool before we had cleaned it thoroughly. We found her standing on the pool stairs unable to move {let me say again - she is a Lab afraid of water}. I had to climb in and guide her out and Chase and Darren "scubaed" in the unheated skanky leaf water to retrieve all the sticks so they wouldn't clog the pump. Isn't the dog supposed to do that? I love how Chase didn't let the air out of the drysuit -- he's here to "pump, you up." He also didn't wear any insulation under the drysuit therefore counteracted the purpose. He didn't last long. Darren on the other hand, was the hero of the day, he is still complaining, but would not get out of the water for over an hour. What is that Seinfield episode about cold water?

time since... one year

two intertwined knots in the center of the celtic pattern on her headstone signifying they are forever as one

Ten days and one year ago I had left my friends after exiting the Staten Island Ferry to go wandering through Soho in NYC. The last photo I took was of a policeman on a horse, the click, click, click of the hooves on the cobbles made an unusual sound for New York. I went around the corner and bought some clever earrings from a little design studio and then dropped into a store to buy a pair of purple jeans. As I was purchasing the pants, Darren called, graveness in his voice, and said I needed to be alone. I shouted back - is this about the boys? No. Is it Erica? No. I'll call you right back. Shakily I completed the transaction, went outside, sat on the dirty sidewalk and rang him back. As he told me what had happened... Your mom and dad were working at the new house and a terrible accident occurred while your dad was driving the tractor and your mom was killed... it was as if a time warp happened and I could picture the story unfolding as it took place. He asked me if I could get home. I said yes. He asked if I could give him my sister's number. I couldn't think. He said the number slowly and asked if that was correct. I said yes. At that point, I had stood up. Something intuitive and incredibly strong had taken over my mind and body. I had to get home. He had to be so very frightened for everyone, but he was incredibly calm and gentle as he told my mother's daughters about her death. He was in Salt Lake, Chase was in Nevada, Land was in Logan, I was in New York. I took off running and crying and groaning. Not knowing what direction I was going -- I just knew I had to get home. I ran down into the subway, but then thought a taxi may be better and ran back up to the street. A newstand man came and grabbed me by the shoulders shouting in my face in a thick accent, "What's wrong with you why you crying?" I yelled back there's been an accident, I need to get home my mom is dead. He was panicked and pointed to an intersection where I would have better luck getting a taxi. I ran, again disoriented... uptown, downtown, midtown. I was running in the street yelling for a taxi to stop. Begging, please, please stop. A young women - so kind - tried to help me find a open car. Rush hour. No Luck. She suggested I go back to the subway. I had to ask to be buzzed through the gate, twice. I couldn't figure out which platform to stand on. The trains, the people, it was all a blur; all I could hear was the grief in my heart. I think it was creaking, maybe close to breaking. This was the beginning of my identity as a motherless daughter. Eventually I ended up on the plane. Amidst a rowdy baseball team. A loud young man asked where I was headed. I said to the hospital, there has been an accident. He offered, "I hope it turns out all right". It doesn't look so good. I put on headphones and turned the volume up loud attempting to drown out the questions in my head. I remember Survivor being on the TV... it was Thursday night. I fell into a surreal daze. I can't recall anything else about the airplane. I drove myself to the hospital. Chase did too, he had a similar experience catching a plane to get home from work in Nevada, he had spent so much time with his grandma and grandpa recently helping them with the house. A gift. Grandma loved he and Land unconditionally. What amazing young men I have around me. Land had been sitting in a chair next to my heavily sedated father since early in the evening. Not saying anything but "being there" when my broken bewildered father woke agitated and so so sad. Land was immovable. He stayed there all night, unwilling to leave his grandfather's side. I am in awe. Most times I am not the grown up in this family. I fitfully rested on the hospital floor. Shock.

Still shock 12 months later. We went to the cemetery that morning. Swirling brain again on seeing her name on the headstone. Time is relative. Is that cliche? I don't think so. I cried so incredibly hard. I looked at the pictures and can hardly recognize myself. Darren sat cross-legged in front of the grave, talking to her - she loved him - and he misses her deeply. I hugged my dad and we sobbed together. I thought, this is something he will never get over. How can you? You just find another way to BE in this world. It was a beautiful day...

sweet & tenacious

I do have to say that I am a bit bitter after finishing my degree. Some of you may be confused, as I walked through graduation last year, but I still had revisions on my paper. Due to the sudden and unexpected death of my mother I was unable to finish those revisions in time and took an exemption for late completion. Meanwhile, our department installed its third department head in four years. Upheaval is an understatement. I have taught and filled in when any professor left or didn't want to teach a class. I usually was given the classes that were taught after 3:00 as others wanted to get home to their families. I worked hard and I loved it... but this year has been different. I struggled with egos and hierarchy within the system and was told several times, just don't say anything. Well, me being me, I can't keep quiet and a few heated discussions ensued. I did finish my requirements for receiving my diploma, but at this point, the restrictions, revisions, name-calling and overall bad form have made me wonder if it was worth it. I can honestly say I do not deserve to be treated in this manner, really no one does. My world felt very small and confined until April 18th when I decided to venture to SLC and take a chance on hearing and seeing Wangari Maathai, the first black female Nobel Laureate. I was not disappointed. Terry Tempest Williams introduced her as fierce and compassionate. After hearing her speak, my descriptive words were sweet and tenacious. She possesses the most amazing smile, inner calmness and patience... but you can feel that she will not be silenced, that she will keep on expressing her voice until it is finally heard. She loves. As TTW said, she expresses hope in the power of a seed... she started the Greenbelt Movement in Kenya... planting trees one at a time to change the world. She spoke about environmental degradation and how this is what is affecting most women in poverty in the world -- no access to clean drinking water -- my heart flushes when I hear this -- it should be a fundamental right for all people. She spoke of those in power who get used to the perks and luxuries of such a position and how they become the most dangerous as they are the most vulnerable to corruption. She listed a few things that we in the US can insist on in our quest to not forget Africa. Be engaged, keep speaking out, insist on good business practices and of course human rights and "We must not abandon Africa to China." She told of how she learned the 3Rs in the US -- Reduce, Reuse, Recycle and how she has added her own -- RESPECT [do not waste; show gratitude]. She was wearing a lovely beaded hummingbird brooch given to her by TTW. She told a story about the hummingbird, how during a raging forest fire all the animals were rushing out of the woods, bewildered and scared, the hummingbird kept going to the river sipping drops of water, flying back to the inferno to let the tiny bead of liquid fall into the flames, all the while thinking that this drop might make the difference. When confronted and made fun of by the other creatures the hummingbird replied, "I'm doing the best I can." And that, among all the other wise and profound thoughts she expressed was what I held to most, I want to be caught doing the best I can.

Note: I was privileged to be introduced to TTW afterwards. I told her about my paper, Interior Ecology and she said it was a beautiful phrase. I explained further research I would like to do, inspired by her writing and she said to email her. She held her hand out to me and said it was an honor to meet me. So maybe the obstacles placed in my way have not been for naught afterall. My heart is full.

biodiversity

Since biodiversity of ecosystems is a prominent section in my paper and I, of late, have an extreme distrust of tractors and machinery, this ad by Olgilvy in Germany caught my eye. Deceptively innocent with its "Mike Mulliganesque" illustrations.

(image via here)

what a long strange trip it's been

Above is a figure I made for my paper showing the human, natural, and economic resources needed to attain sustainability - if you don't get what I mean you'll have to wait and read the book - it's being bound at the library this moment.

It is done! It is done! It is done! ... and all will be well, and all will be well and all manner of things will be well! (I hope) I have pulled four all-nighters in the last 10 days (plus keeping up with teaching all my classes - planning the year-end bbq - research projects etc.) -- I wasn't sure it was worth it, but there is a slight glimmer of satisfaction starting to fill my heart.

Title: Interior Ecology: Developing a Design Methodology for Space Planning Using Principles of Sustainability and Ecosystem Models

Dedication: To my mother, Saundra Stephens Toole, I am so sorry I lost you before you could witness the final project. Mom Forever.

Acknowledgments: Completing this degree has been part of a demanding but rewarding journey. There are numerous individuals that I am indebted to. From the beginning Steve Mansfield has provided generous encouragement, competent educational and design skills, a listening ear, and an example of brilliant character. Carol Nicholas has continually forged a path through the impossible that I try to remember to follow. Much appreciation goes to a man of incredible integrity, creativity and enthusiasm, Dusty Wickham, my office partner, for tolerating my many distractions and obsessions, to Darrin Brooks whose limitless energy and passion for design are legendary, and to Sandra Turner for her kind compliments and hard-work making this paper look good. To Robert, Carolyn and Sue: thank you. To Jenny and Angus and the promise of meeting in a pub in Sydney when this endeavor was completed -- I'm privileged to have such great friends.

And most importantly to my family... to my father Doug Toole who never doubted that I could do this, and for time that otherwise would have been yours, my deepest gratitude goes to Chase and Land, and to Darren, the person who supported this adventure more than anyone else; it is you that has sustained me.

time since... eleven months

A familiar view, approaching Henefer; Grandpa's mountain in the background. I remember approaching the town once with my mom. She looking at the mountain and saying, "of all the places in the world, how was I born right here?" And I ask now, "of all the places in the world how did she die right here?" She loved her home. Memories of climbing the hill imprinted thick and solid. Dallen and Kimberly and I rolling boulders off of the train side in the canyon anticipating the split-rock deafening crash. We would also lay under the train bridge as it crossed the slough, tuck up close holding on to each other, wait for the train. As it barrelled over us, the bridge bowing inches away from our faces we would let out this primitive scream still holding tight. For all three of us, even now, lying under the train made us feel most alive. It is Easter this Sunday. We will go visit Grandpa, 91 years old. He hosts an "Easter egg roll" each year, but it is a misnomer as everyone knows in the Stephens clan. We throw the eggs at each other. The oldest cousins decked out in helmets and garbage can lids to defend against the onslaught. Easter was my mother's favorite holiday. Last year was the last family gathering we spent with her. It was a great day. She threw snow at the grandkids while they searched for hidden eggs. I don't know why these festive activities have a hint of aggression, but through it all we learned to hold on tight -- to each other. Oh I miss her. I dream of her helping me with babies. I hear her laugh and her fingernails clicking on the table and running through my hair. I keep repeating a phrase from a Carl Sandburg poem...

heavy heavy is love to carry
and light as one rose petal,
light as a bubble, a blossom,
or a finger or a wisp of hair
never forgotten

Happy Easter Mom - Love Nanner

Easter is Approaching...

drawing via Alex Noriega

I love the sentiment of this sketch. I have been putting in long hours on campus finishing my paper so I can finally get my degree. The sophomores have finished their museum project and are getting letters today about how their portfolio review went. It is stressful to be their instructor during this time, they all work so hard. So today Dusty and Carol and I sat in her office and talked about the world and listened to music and sang along badly and laughed really hard and had a grand ole time, just like the old days... hmmm.... it wasn't that long ago we would do this all the time but we are all so frenetic this time around.

Sunday Morning

I woke early this morning, sat in front of the window and watched the clouds sneak into the valley. As I glanced down to read the paper I noticed a darkening and then a quickening in the corner of my eye, the sky let loose with heavy flakes of snow. There are inches upon inches and it confuses my sense of spring. We walked in the sunlight yesterday and watched the boys skate as the setting glow warmed our faces. The voice in my head is hollowed by trepidation, change is instantaneous and unexpected. Every morning I hope there is something familiar and everlasting to count on.

Morning Poem

Every morning
the world
is created.
Under the orange

sticks of the sun
the heaped
ashes of the night
turn into leaves again

and fasten themselves to the high branches —
and the ponds appear
like black cloth
on which are painted islands

of summer lilies.
If it is your nature
to be happy
you will swim away along the soft trails

for hours, your imagination
alighting everywhere.
And if your spirit
carries within it

the thorn
that is heavier than lead —
if it’s all you can do
to keep on trudging —

there is still
somewhere deep within you
a beast shouting that the earth
is exactly what it wanted —

each pond with its blazing lilies
is a prayer heard and answered
lavishly,
every morning,

whether or not
you have ever dared to be happy,
whether or not
you have ever dared to pray.

–Mary Oliver

(via slowmuse)

digital immigrant

Can't sleep... but I did have Land talk me through how to email myself a pic from my phone before he went to bed. This is from May 2007... President Obama [well, not quite at the time] spoke at Kimball's Junction in Park City. I bolted out of my parent's house when I thought I might have the opportunity to see the next POTUS. [most of the family gathered were exhibiting puzzled looks and and asking, "who is Barack Obama?"] It was thrilling. I have shook the President's hand. A woman I met on the plane flying home from the inauguration wanted me to email this to her... now I finally can.

let's go aggies

It is half-time and the Aggies are down 8 points. Channel 2 (dorks) didn't get the feed from CBS right - they advertised the game as USU vs. Syracuse and the game we were viewing on the tv was Syracuse vs. Stephen F. Austin. {yeah, you know the guy who was given the awful job of answering the flood of calls at the station got an earful from me} It is finally on (USU vs. Marquette) and the Aggies maybe can come back and win this thing. Aggie basketball has the best fans and student section. They are so quick and brutal with their chants. We have enjoyed going to the games. Gary Wilkinson pictured above always engages the crowd to get them cheering. So show me the "true-blooded Aggie from Utah, that doesn't love the spot where the sage-brush grows!"

Update: Aggies are down by only one!

A 6 point lead 4:20 to go.

AAAH! Utah State lost by one.

(photo via: utah statesman)

Odd allegiances: I am an Aggie basketball fan

I am a Ute gymnastics fan

I am a Cougar football fan... can't shake it.

go green

My Irish roots are wishing the wind to be always at your back!

Listen to Lanae from BARRAGE sing Until We Meet Again. She is spectactular, and Barrage is such a fun production to attend; dancing, singing, violins. 

May the road rise up to meet you

May the wind be always at your back

May the sun shine warm upon your face now

May the rains fall soft upon your fields

And until we meet again

And until we meet again

May God hold you in the palm of His hand

May God hold you in the palm of His hand

May our children and their descendants

Be the ones to find a lasting peace

May their hopes and dreams become united

May the past be left for those who hate

And until we meet again

And until we meet again

May love and trust find a way to make a stand

May love and trust find a way to make a stand

May the road rise up to meet you

May the wind be at your back

May the sun shine warm upon your face

May the rains fall soft upon your fields

May this world and all its wonders

Be a home to all humanity

May the people find a common purpose

May we help one another to survive

And until we meet again

And until we meet again

May Mother earth pour her heart into our land

May Mother earth pour her heart into our land

Note: I took Chase and Kate to Barrage when they were in 8th grade. One of my most embarrassing moments occurred during the intermission. I tell you, I have some doozers, but this one makes me blush, and laugh uncontrollably, especially if Kate recalls the incident. {it involves a 38 year-old mom attempting to show off some gymnastics moves - things didn't go as planned}

light at the end of the tunnel

I am going to finish this thesis! I can see light at the end of the tunnel! [queue Starlight Express - ok, that makes me laugh, I'll have to explain one day] Today on my way to campus a young toddler flashed the most incredible springtime bright grin and enthusiastic wave, a gentleman was standing in his apartment doorway and happily signaled my existence while finishing off his Sunday dinner. I take these as good omens and now I am, seriously, not going to be distracted until the Amazing Race starts at seven. Salude!

time since... ten months

Powell's Bookstore in Portland is my favorite. The first time I went there I couldn't take it all in fast enough. Like going all day without eating and then hoarding the food when you finally get access. I was ecstatic to get lost in all the stories, oh and Powell's holds numberless volumes on its musty shelves. I don't know why, but it felt like home. And so each time we go to Portland, and it seems we are there quite often, I must return to that familiar place and purchase a book. I've made a few in my family quite upset, not to mention late for the airport, but it has become imperative. I now select what story I'm going to purchase before entering and am given a set amount of time to complete the transaction. I make sure a store sticker is included, place it in the inside cover and write the date I purchased it. The last time I was there I brought home Infidel by Ayann Hirsi Ali, recommended by a friend.

Fast forward a few months later. My mother and her bestest friend are in Portland. They have a few hours before they need to be at the airport and my mom calls to inquire what book she should get at Powell's. I suggest Infidel, because of the above mentioned information and I had been captivated by the memoir. After her return home I ask if they had opportunity to visit "my bookstore" and she related that they had run out of time. If I'm honest, I have to admit I was a little disappointed, I thought she was just shrugging off my weird ritual, that she didn't "get me." My mother and I were tending to a few scars that had formed in our relationship... growing pains, you could call it. I sometimes would wonder where I came from - I was so different in the way I expressed my personality, I sometimes felt like the infidel. I love jazz - my family loves country, an insignificant example. We were doing good, my mom and I, and both she and I were looking forward to a continued mutually significant relationship.

Fast forward a few weeks. I am at my parent's house the day before or after the funeral. I can't remember time and sequence of events... shock does that to you. Sudden deaths are bewildering... the bargaining includes begging for one last conversation, just one more chance to say "I love you." Just one more time to hear her voice, "hey Nanner, how are you?" Once more hearing the lavish praise of how she is impressed how you have given your children the space to be "themselves." I feel like screaming to whoever is in charge of this universe, "just throw me a bone." And then my sister walks through the back hallway, where my mom would set her things when entering the house. She picks up a book, Infidel, and says this is what mom was reading and opens the page to the bookmark. I see a flash of something familiar and grab it out of her hands. The bookmark is from powells.com. I sometimes still just hold the book to my heart for comfort. A whole new story could be written to be cataloged in the vast collection at the bookstore on Burnside about the irony or tragedy or beauty that one of our last connections was an account of an incredibly brave woman called Infidel.

(photo via: chasingcleanair.com)

sick every day

It is time to bring back the "man-cold" video, because it illustrates quite vividly the scene at our house the past 4 weeks. Darren has had the flu and according to him the breakfasts in bed and providing a quiet room to sleep it off has not been enough. I guess I forgot the rubbing his head while cooing, "poor little bunny." I just don't get it, do I.

walk the dog

Khloee and I out for a stroll.

Texture and color behind the Water Lab.

Logan River

Finally brave enough to cross the grate... this took some time.

Ice Bubbles

Berries

More Ice Bubbles

Canine Profile

Afternoon Shadow

I took some advice from fellow bloggers and loaded up on some vitamin D in the sunny midwinter day that pleasantly presented itself. Khloee and I wandered through our neighborhood along a small snow trail that goes behind the Water Lab and to 1st dam. She is a socially challenged beast, and pulled me into the mud and down the hill several times while I was trying to manage the camera. I'm considering it mandatory to take her for a walk everyday, I know, I know she should be walked everyday but... she did grow up in Wellsville where she had free rein of the fields... in fact we just donated a tree in her honor at the Wellsville park. That's what the plaque says, in honor of Khloee the Dog. I wish I had a sound recording for each image. A lone plane moaning through the sky. Birds chirping, geese honking, ducks skidding, ice cracking, water melting, mud squishing, children playing, me sighing. 

truth is stranger than fiction

In the past 10 days I have been involved in court proceedings, twice. The first was a mediation set up by the juvenile court for some mischievous youngsters that vandalized and stole items from our home we were in the process of moving out of in July. I'm talking really young, like 8,9,10 and they were our neighbors. So, the mediation is going ok, but the dad of three of the boys, who is a real estate agent, who accessed our house improperly (showing his family - probably why the boys thought they could use it as a clubhouse) kept telling his son to "tell the truth", and then he starts getting hostile and verbally abusive toward me. I am still missing a bracelet that my mother had given to me after her brain surgery. I had taken it off to clean and set it on a hook in my closet. Gone. Well this, so-called, "good friend and neighbor" proceeded to tell me that it wasn't as valuable as I was claiming and that he saw a broken bracelet on the right side of my counter (whatever that means). I went home and located the broken bracelet (not the one I'm missing) and it is in a fabric pouch and that has been in a box. I was so creeped out that he had been through my stuff my skin crawled. He started describing more and more things in detail and trying to tell US whose house was robbed how invaluable those items were. Darren finally stood up and said, "we're done here, we don't have to take this." The dad was eventually kicked out of the proceedings for hostile behavior. We then promptly filed an ethics complaint with the real estate and licensing division and are contemplating filing a civil suit. I was so emotionally spent I called in sick the next day and spent all the hours in bed.

The second: I attended the sentencing hearing for my dear, dear friends who have been through a nightmare for the past four years... a raid of their home by Homeland Security, a 135 count indictment, ruined reputations, families destroyed, a prosecution that cost the US government over 2 million dollars and for what... misdemeanors and a 50.00 fine. They had to plead to something, because the US attorneys office will not lose face. I wish someone would trace this case and the political maneuverings that occurred; who became a judge, who got promoted. The overwhelming support in letters from governments, associations, adoptive parents about the humanitarian efforts, professional conduct and good character was in favor of my friends. Did any of this come out in the press? NO. I am so baffled and quite scared how twisted information became. The newspaper blogs have been psychotic and viral. Some concerned citizens were going to have a meeting to discuss things. I wrote in that I was sorry I couldn't make the meeting, but reminded them not to forget their white hoods. "Be afraid, be very afraid," keeps going through my head. After the hearing I didn't have a chance to see my friends, they left quickly to escape the mounds of press waiting outside, who wouldn't even talk to anyone remotely connected to the defense. I went to a restaurant to eat and had a cold one (I won't tell you of what) and then walked into a hair salon and asked if someone could cut and color my hair. It felt good to vent to a total stranger. All the while I thought about my friends, and how I have never in my life known people such as them. I feel I know their hearts and through all these court cases they have been nothing short of genuine, they have never changed their story... how can they it is the story of their life. I love them and their children and am so sorry this tornado of craziness has hit them and and uprooted everything. So if you happen to read about this, DO NOT believe everything you see in print. I miss you guys!

So I wake today and learn a professor who was instrumental in me going back to school and getting my master's degree has been cited for lewd behavior. I mean really lewd behavior. I feel awful for his family and children. Ahhh, I can't keep up... I'm getting nervous to ever walk out the door again.

Really, I couldn't make any of this up if I tried. I'm creative, but this is stretching it.

Angela Adams & a question...

Angela Adams and her furniture designing husband will be on campus tomorrow for a presentation and critique of a project that she introduced to the students last month. Don't you just love these rugs. Mouth-watering, texturally gorgeous. I would never need furniture, for I would sit always on the floor. If you are interested in attending, the event occurs Monday, February 23rd, at 3:00pm at the Performance Hall at Utah State in Logan.
Now for the question? If you were given the task to "map an ecosystem" as a concept for a design layout what would you include? How would it look? It is using "biomimicry" in a way, to arrange interior space. What would the connections be, what type of "neighborhoods" would you include? Just wondering, as I work on a research question that I haven't quite formulated all the way in my head yet.

Time since... nine months

Seven years since the 2k2 winter olympics in SLC. I was all caught up in the whirlwind. One evening, just her and I ventured through Park City. Listening to music, waiting in line at Roots to get our official berets. We were both into collecting pins. I displayed mine in a shadow box, hers laced the edges of her beret. I was given her beret after the accident. I've scarcely been able to look at it. Such a strong physical memory of her, upright and youthful, she looked enticing in hats. We had so much fun that night. We happened upon one gathering, the Jamaican Bobsled Team was posing for pictures and autographs... for a price. Mom left to use the ladies room and when she came back, one of the team had me firmly in his grip and was literally chewing on my neck. Her face expressed what she didn't say... "What in the hell are you doing?" ...with a spark in her eye of course. I said, trying to wriggle out of the situation, "he said for a kiss..." I offered a peck on the cheek and he must of thought I was approving the full make out. We got our pictures and autographs and laughed about it a long time afterwards. She was mischievous, my mother. I thought of her quite a bit while in Washington, DC. I told dad, that mom would have loved this last minute inaugural adventure, he agreed, saying she probably would have jumped on the plane with me. I thought of her and my 3rd grade teacher "rescuing" a lithograph of the signing of the Declaration of Independence from the basement our elementary school... is that where my interest in politics began? Or my love of quirky adventures. I've been swimming in memories of her, they flood my dreams and waking hours. I miss having a Mother, bottom line. I feel lonely and lost. That same third grade teacher wrote me a note I read every morning... a line goes like this, "I love you DeAnn - sending you warm hugs and wishing you someplace safe and cozy you can go to when you need that kind of space."

Really, it comforted me like a microfleece blanket... it felt like the first motherly action freely given me since I lost her. 

Whelmed!

So much to do, revisions on a thesis, tending to the flu, teaching 9 

semester credit hours, revising curriculum, trying to be a decent mom 

to teenaged young men and those are the issues on the outside, 

ahhhh, like the song says, "she fights for her life". Yeah, that's what 

it feels like when the stress is getting the best of me.

Dispatches from the District {of Columbia}

Dispatch #1: I lost my camera the night before I came home…so the images you see are courtesy of April.

Dispatch #2: The Decision:

It was a last-minute one to go to DC. I had asked my friend Jill if her daughter April would mind a houseguest. (April is a legend… smart… a law school graduate from Yale and an attorney for the Justice Department (Civil Rights… appeals), talented… her undergrad was in medieval history and she knows a lot of stuff, plus she has such an intricate and informed take on everything she is fascinating to listen to, and she has style… like the man I was go to see take office April has a strong sense of herself… she is just plain fun to be around) I had made up my mind not to go and then I spoke to April and she hinted that it would be kind of nice for me to drop-in as she probably wouldn’t venture out into the frozen masses by herself. I booked two one-way tickets 10 minutes later.

Dispatch #3: Arriving:

I flew to Denver and then to Reagan National. There were a myriad of events happening to be pumped about. NFC and AFC playoff games… the We Are One concert happening at the Lincoln Memorial. Side note… April was riding her bike to church and made a detour to the Mall and watched the concert instead. Seeing U2 was a highlight. As the plane descended into Washington and the passengers caught a glimpse of the glowing monuments we could all hardly contain ourselves. Someone shouted over the intercom, “Who are we here to see?” and the reply was a resounding, “Obama, Obama, Obama!” Clapping and cheering ensued as we touched down on the Nation’s Capitol. Oh, I rode the metro into town and even my ticket had a likeness of the soon to be 44^th President on it.

Dispatch #4: Martin Luther King Day:

Kudos to Jason Chaffetz, the newly elected congressman from Utah’s 3^rd District. You may have seen him on Steven Colbert. Well, I had sources tell me that I was next up on the list for inaugural tickets if there was a cancellation… we’ll call you they said, hmmm, I thought and instead of taking any chances I went and joined the line to the Longworth House Office Building for a few hours. As I slowly got toward the front I saw the Congressman himself exit the building… my gut instinct was to shout, Jason! (of course I went with the gut). He came over and indulged this extremely excitable woman from Utah and invited me to go to his office where he thought Ryan, the office boy, would be able to accommodate my request. Enter the office: Ryan needs to deliver tickets to someone in line and asks if I will watch the office. OK, so I call Darren and tell him that I am in the office alone… should I scrounge for the tickets and take off running? Answer: No. Swarms of people were looking for tickets… it was intense. Ryan returns, and the Congressman, and his Chief of Staff. They say they need to talk. They say I need to have my passport and answer some questions. I enter the Congressman’s office with trepidation… they are so serious. Rep. Chaffetz stands, shakes my hand, offers me two ticket packets and graciously says, “Today is your lucky day, congratulations, enjoy watching history.” I’m all, “Thankyou, thankyou, thankyou so much.” I was shaking, I felt like when I was 7 years old and I got to go to an Osmonds’ concert. I called Darren in Nevada and empathetically state, “I have tickets to the inauguration of Barack Obama.”

Later in the day we go to the National Cathedral and listen to hip-hop poetry and music. Really cool in a cathedral… the dancing and shouting “Peace” against the echoing stone vaults is riveting. April and I also find the gargoyle on the front tower that is a carved likeness of Darth Vader… there is also one of a security camera trained on the Russian Embassy… who says the federal government doesn’t have a sense of humor.

We wait in line at the Kennedy Center for tickets to hear Aretha Franklin. No go, but waiting in line is the #1 activity in DC this weekend. You meet so many interesting people, a documentary filmmaker from Mexico, a woman who when she turned 50 walked across the United States, the chairwoman of the Martin Luther King Memorial Foundation, a high-school councilor from Houston, a couple from Alaska that came in spite of Sarah Palin, students, families, individuals all here for a common purpose, but very personal reasons. We do the electric slide, spontaneously burst into song, perform the wave, and talk, and tell stories, and listen and it is amazing.

Dispatch #5: Inauguration Day:

3:15 am the alarm sounds. Our goal is to beat the Metro opening at 4. Layer upon layer upon layer, upon layer, I can’t move, but the radio says it is 10 degrees outside we will be in the elements for over 8 hours. We are speed walking to the Mall. I can’t believe how many are already up at this ungodly cold hour… you mean someone else had the idea to get there early? We are about #100 in the silver ticket line. More getting to know each other. Lines transformed into human clusters transformed into running masses.

We finally arrive at our viewing spot. Front row just behind the barricade around the Capitol reflecting pool. April and I are listening to the radio… the mall is already filling up, it has warmed to 16 degrees outside… the sun rises behind the capital, applause for the dawning of a “new day”. The crowd is getting restless, a man is straddling the barricade and when he sees that there is no security looking on he makes a run for it. Tens of thousands of people follow suit. I experience a panic attack against the stampeding crowd. Once we determine that we are safe, the barriers are not going back up and we have lost our front row seat we take off into the pressing throng. There are people in trees and on the statues. The next hours are spent on tippy toes and peeking between shoulders to keep our view. A man remarks, “Damn you’re short”, and pushes me even further toward the front. The music is beginning. On the jumbotron we can see various “players” in the government arriving to take their place. I pick them out on the podium using my binoculars. The crowd roars with approval for most, groaning disproval meets some others. I feel incredibly American.

It is beginning; the prayers, the National Anthem, the oaths of office. There is a moment of weirdness when Joe Biden is sworn in as vice-president… for about seven minutes is it a Bush – Biden administration?

Obama finally takes the oath (after a bit of a stumble from Justice Roberts) and then here, at this moment, I will never forget. The sound of the citizens cheering, it was like aftershock or a swarm of bees traveling the two miles from the Lincoln Memorial right through your shoes and straight to your heart. It shook your soul. I don’t have words to describe it, it was expressed in the faces of those in attendance. As John Lewis said, “it was too much, it was too big.” And then President Obama began his speech and conversely, as the crowd was loud they became hushed, hanging on every word. The occasional “amen”, or “you know it”, or “it is time” was offered. Two African-American women, beautiful and wise, clothed in their Sunday best… long fur coats, hats, brooches, leather gloves, perfectly set lipstick, remarked, “We were here for Martin Luther King when he marched on Washington and we are here today for Barack Obama”. As the speech neared its end emotion grew. Tears streamed down my face, high fives and hugs to virtual strangers. Wow! I was there.

Dispatch #6: Afterwards:

We actually walk across the frozen reflecting pool… the creaking and cracking make me a bit nervous.

We head to the Hart Senate building where the Utah Congressional Delegation is hosting a reception on the top floor. (So nice) We see an ambulance in the front of the Capital and later realized that it was for Ted Kennedy. Orrin Hatch speaks to the Utah crowd and explains Senator Kennedy’s condition. We watch the parade on the TV’s provided. It is warm and there is good food and company. We learn that many people did not even get in through security. I am disappointed in my congressman, Rob Bishop, he doesn’t even show to the reception, and of course, I am still upset that he was unable to accommodate my request for tickets. Not a Fan.

Around 5:00 we head home. We have been up since 3 and I am floating. I think the senators and the President must be superhuman to still be going strong, all the “galas” and inaugural balls are yet to happen. We pass on the partying and watch on the TV, amazed that all this is taking place right outside the door. Good, good sleep.

Dispatch #7: Wednesday, January 21^st (Darren and I have been married 21 Years)

April must go to work, with new bosses, mind you. I head to the Corcoran Gallery and view the Richard Avedon exhibit, “Portraits of Power”. Moving. I also go to the Renwick gallery and then walk by the White House. Code Pink is outside and someone asks me to hold a sign for a moment. They are mellow, just reminding people that this can be an administration of peace. In exchange for holding the sign they take my picture with a President Obama cutout with a pink feather boa. I don't have that photo due to the lost camera, but I noticed I did make their flickr set.

I do some shopping… mostly just looking around. Can’t bring myself to buy many of the Obama chotchkes. I settle for a few pins that make me laugh. I meet April and we go to the National Portrait Gallery. Again, so nice. We wander through some galleries and then eat at Oyamel. Good food, but somewhere between the gallery and the restaurant is where I lose my camera. Ehhhhh.

that's April in the pic

Dispatch #8: Going Home:

Wake at 3am again to get to the airport for a 6am flight. So tired and satisfied. I can’t believe it. It was incredible! So glad I made the decision and went for it! Thanks to April who made it a possibility and Darren for always supporting me in my obsessions and crazy ideas.

Forgiveness takes a lifetime...

I was moved when I read this in the New Yorker... especially the part when he reportedly asked President Obama to sign a photo, and the President accomodated his request with, "because of you John, Barack Obama." And then this happened... hearts and souls can mend and heal.

47 years later, apology accepted

U.S. Rep. John Lewis forgives Elwin Wilson for 1961 beating in a Rock Hill bus station.

By Andrew Dys

(Rock Hill) Herald

Posted: Tuesday, Jan. 27, 2009

ROCK HILL Almost 48 years have passed since a mob of white men beat up two civil rights demonstrators at Rock Hill's Greyhound bus station. Called “Freedom Riders,” one white man and one black man protesting segregated transportation tried to go into a waiting room that on May 9, 1961, was for “whites only.”

When asked Monday night if any of the people who beat him in 1961 in Rock Hill – or attacked the Freedom Ride bus days later in Alabama – ever apologized before, U.S. Rep John Lewis, D-Ga. said, “Never. Until now.”

One of the Rock Hill mob has now apologized. And Lewis said Monday that man is forgiven.

In a telephone interview Monday night from his office in Washington, Lewis said he read Monday about the apology of Elwin Wilson for past acts of hate published Saturday in the Observer and The (Rock Hill) Herald.

“I accept that apology, and would love to have the opportunity some day to talk to that man if he wants to,” Lewis said. “I have no ill feelings. No malice. This shows the distance we have come. It shows grace on his part. It shows courage.”

Last year, Lewis received an apology from the current mayor of Rock Hill. But Wilson is the first to admit a role in the Rock Hill beatings.

Wilson, now 72, told black civil rights protesters Friday he apologized for heckling and taunting them in Rock Hill in January 1961. Wilson also told the local protesters, known as the “Friendship Nine” and the “City Girls,” that he was one of that mob that beat up Lewis a few months later. Wilson said he was sorry.

All those Rock Hill people forgave Wilson – and now Lewis, has, too.

In 1961, Lewis was a 21-year-old seminary student. Both he and Al Bigelow, the white protester, were thumped with clouts to the head.

“The two of us got off the bus,” Lewis said. “We tried to go into the white waiting room, and a group of young men attacked us. They left us lying in blood.” Lewis and Bigelow declined to press charges.

“We said no, that was not why we were doing it,” Lewis said Monday.

Lewis said Monday he is “deeply touched,” by Wilson's apology for that awful day 48 years ago.

“This apology now is the essence of what the (civil rights) movement was all about – the ability of people to change and grow,” Lewis said Monday.

Wilson said last week he hoped blacks could forgive all the hatred of his life, including the Lewis beating.

“This is one of the best things I have ever done,” Wilson said of his decision to publicly apologize. “I am sorry. I'm just now trying to do what's right.”

Publicly Stated Reason #1 why I Love Living in Town!

Yesterday, I couldn't find my keys, and so I put on my backpack, changed my shoes, grabbed my bag and trekked up the hill. 15 minutes and broke a sweat in the meantime. And I found my keys in my backpack as soon as I entered my office. (that's the way I work) My friend Marty came to campus and spoke to the students and she gave me a ride home and we talked and talked and talked... so it was all good in the end.

Promise an update on the inauguration is coming... I still get chills thinking about it.

I WAS THERE...

Shepard Fairey poster

At least that is what I will be saying Wednesday morning. I am leaving in an hour to go to DC for the inauguration. Can you say "what a shocker!" I just want to get cozy with 4-5 million other fellow citizens to witness history. It really would never make sense to another, but Obama's journey to the presidency is a sort of personal metaphor for my own journey the last four years. Nervous, anxious, hopeful excitement is brewing. I've got to go and pack my warm clothes. Look for me... I'll be wearing an ice blue puffy coat and a bright pink hat. This song is repeating over and over in my mind this morning... click here.

ring in the new year - holiday rewind

Girls with hats (Amy, DeAnn, Ella, Jenny, Jeanette) Angus gets ready to toast to the New Year. Ella participates in the limbo.

Explore Bryce Canyon in the morning. Amy and Ella play in a tree while the others climb up the trail.

We jump for joy for 2009. Snow fights are the irresistible activity at every stop.

Ooooh and Aaaah!

A ready-made snowman greets us on the trail... and isn't Jenny so clever to hold that hoodoo.

Cross-country skiing along the rim of the canyon was spectacular.

Sunset point at sunset. The Fergusson Family, the Olsens and the whole new year crew: Darren, DeAnn, Angus, Amy, Jenny, Duncan, Ella, Fraser, Hugh, and Jeanette.

Hooray for 2009!

weekend wonder (I wonder what are we thinking)

What a weekend:

1. I drove in a snowstorm to my dad's on Thursday night to meet the Fergussons and watch the National Championship game. I got lost in Croydon, hmmm how does that happen I've been through that town thousands of times.
2. Spend a leisure morning at my dad's with the Fergussons. Amy is my dad's buddy shoveling and scraping snow. My dad was an excellent host and the new home is really nice.
3. Shopping at the outlet mall. I rarely get a chance to shop with "the girls". It was a good time.
4. Meet Darren and the boys at Red Butte Cafe for dinner.
5. Attend the gymnastics meet at U of U. On the list as one of my favorite activities. The girls were awestruck.
6. I take the boys to Bodyworlds at 1:00am (yes you read that right - it is open 24 hours for the final days) - it is sold out, but a kind ticket agent let us through in the wee hours of the morning. We finally finish at 4:00am and return to the hotel to sleep.
7. The Fergussons leave after breakfast. (for San Fran, Figi and then back to Oz) I am so tired that I can't get emotional, but on the inside I so don't want them to leave. We have had such a fantastic holiday with them.
8. Slumdog Millionaire. Don't wait - go and see this movie now. Unbelievable.
9. Dinner at Harry and Amy's. They cook us steaks and perfected potatoes and gingered vegetables and oooo so yummy ice cream. (soy for me). We stay at their house and visit until after 11:00.

That's how to spend the weekend; with great family and close friends. I feel good and exhausted and happy.

eve feast... holiday rewind

We gather, friends and family, open our crackers (or bonbons, as the Australians call them) adorn our party hats and feast on roast beast. This year we especially remembered my mom - she was always here for us on this night, made the gravy. Angus was kind and jumped right in and did it for me. My dad spent the night with us and watched the boys and the Fergusson girls open their gifts on Christmas morning.

people with mustaches...

Guys with mustaches enjoy the snow - not only guys with white beards. This is Land, Austin and Dallas leaving for snowboarding after adorning stick-on facial hair I received as a white elephant gift at a holiday party.

Cheers

Christmas stresses me out. I can hardly breathe. I think it all happens too fast, too much pressure for one moment and then there is such a drop-off as soon as the moment is over. That is my excuse for posting about Christmas nearly two weeks later. As I was gathering gifts a few days before the big day I saw a supposedly funny card that made me want to upchuck the little bit of holiday spirit I had managed to drum up. It had a beautiful painting of Jesus and a quote bubble that proclaimed, "Happy Birthday to Me". I couldn't purchase a single thing after that, I thought really, He would be disappointed in all this horrid consuming. We went small on gifts - and enjoyed my dad and the Ferguson family staying with us. It turned out to be a magical week.

Pictured above are some of the cheerful decorations that helped us be jolly:

a. Our scuba santa ornament from St. John. I really felt that I was drowning in the stress.
b. The nativity given to me years ago from my mother. A peace dove from my sister-in-law. Flowers in the frame above the table are from my mom's grave given to us from a woman in Coalville... so beautiful.
c. The living room mantel all dressed in white with a photo of my mother and the ceramic Christmas tree made by Darren's grandma Olsen and given to us when she passed. Our favorite decoration.
d. The dining room with a grosgrain ribbon runner and the nutcracker and Steinbach music box and smoker given to me from my grandma Hazel.
e. The stockings I made years ago when we first moved to Utah and of course the holiday books.
f. The Santa collection, several are from my mother, one is from Russia from my good friends.
g. A colorful wooden nativity... I bought one for my niece as a wedding present - she was married in December and one for myself. The boys and I made trees out of clay and evergreen branches.
h. The felt Santa, reindeer and sleigh I couldn't pass up at ABC Home in New York.
i. The entry of the new home. Christmas cards are hanging up above.
j. Our easy-up, easy-down Christmas tree.
k. The tree that "spoke" to Chase when we went venturing through the woods with friends and neighbors. The boys said they needed to save it from its embarrassment in the forest. I think it is sorta charming.

the tree has eyes

Happy New Year - icicles and all.

backyard terrain park

The boys (and even Darren) hauled snow all day to complete the ramps and rails and so the fun began after the sun went down. What a way to celebrate the shortest days of the year.

This is for my nieces, cousins, sisters, friends who blog and inspire me to keep on keeping on creating. Have a good one!