IT OCCURS TO ME....

I don't know if you read my Father's Day post or not. My disaster day with the meltdown and not even giving Phil his card. Anyway, we celebrated Father's Day the Saturday before Father's Day so he did get honored and loved. All the kids came and brought food and their kiddies. That makes him happy.

Here are the children having a treasure hunt. The rule is, you can look for every clue but the only person who can find it is the one whose name is on the last clue. If they ask for help the rest of the group can give hints. They are so good about it. When we first started treasure hunts, years ago, they would yell out, "I found it!" Now they are so subtle and don't let the "finder" know they've spotted the clue.

This one doesn't take her nose out of a book long enough to hunt. She doesn't know there are memories to be had by being a part of the "cousin group."

This is what happens when you hand the camera to one of the children and say, "take photos for a minute. His sister will kill him. Her motto is, "I don't get mad, I get even."

Self portrait. And more...I didn't post most of the self portraits.

We're sometimes a weird bunch.

Each is weird in his own way.

Sometimes weirdness is exhausting!

Some do not have wierdness. They do have the most contagious laughter on the planet. I wish you could hear her delightful laughter.

And some do have the weirdness gene. Its from Phil's side of the family, I'm sure.Some find laughter in the weirdness. She's laughing because she hid the clue on the lawn swing and they can't find it.

Some have tongue in cheek because they know what's up.

Some were merely surprised when they get darted. "All right! Who which one of you hairballs shot me?" Yes, she calls them hairballs. It's part of her charm.

Some smile, some whistle or perhaps spit, in the background.It didn't occur to me to take a photo of the delicious food. Here's the serving table without all the delicious food. Do you like how the cloth is on so perfectly straight? I'm a stickler for details, yes I am. Happy Late Father's Day dear. Your card is around here somewhere, I promise.

I love you.

A BLOG ABOUT NOTHING. AGAIN.

I have decided that in yesterday's post I should have written "melty tastiness," not "melty goodness"--as in "good for you." I don't want to deceive anyone about the nutritional value of candy bars. Just wanted to set the record straight.

Lasagna and salad and French bread--that is my all time favorite meal. Today, before leaving for church, I put together a lasagna and left a note for Phil to put it in the oven after he got home from his BYU ward. I walked into the house to the most heavenly smell.

A salad made with fresh cucumbers and fresh tomatoes from the garden can go from good to wonderful if you put a bunch of marinated artichoke hearts on it. If you live anywhere near BYU's Creamery on 9th and can get their ranch dressing it takes that salad from wonderful to fantastic. Just sayin' in case you live close. If you don't live close, forget I said that part.

It doesn't matter how old you get, you still want the best for your children and you still think of them as children, not as men or women. They were, and always will be, your precious little ones.

If we could be a nation of strong families, we would be a strong nation. We must do what we can to keep our families intact, to teach them correct principles, and to teach them to serve.

If you don't have anyone to sit by in church you are lonely no matter how full the chapel is. Luckily I had people to sit by today, except for Sunday School. I sat by a man I didn't even know--how does that happen? He promptly went to sleep. He did not snore.

It is good to sit in Relief Society and not be up front, conducting. It is nice to know someone else is in charge of Enrichment. I will go to Enrichment in September and have no responsibilities for the first time in seven years!

I told you this was a blog about nothing. I have things to say but am going to say them on my Starlight blog and on a different night as I'm going to bed now. I hope everyone is tucked in and hope you all remembered to floss your teeth and say your prayers.

Goodnight.

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY

I will share my sidewalk chalk Happy Mother's Day greeting with you. Thank you, Her Excellency of Mousehole and The Boarder. May each of you know how much our Heavenly Father and the Savior love you. May this year be a wonderful one for each of you, married or not, with children or not.

And if you have children, may they someday know how much you love them, as much as I love mine, I'll bet, which is an unimaginable lot.

Happy Mother's Day.

WE'D DO ANYTHING FOR OUR CHILDREN

We'd do anything for our children, go to any lengths to help. I'm thinking that if we knew other people as well as we know our children then we would go to any lengths to help them too.

I know a mother whose son is a registered pedophile. Does she hate him? No, she loves him and wants to help him in any way. I know another woman whose son is an alcoholic. He drove onto the exit ramp of the freeway and hit another car, head on, killing the driver. Does his mother hate him? No, she loves him. She grieves over him, she worries and wishes she could make him better. She grieves over the person who was killed too. Her life and the lives of others were forever altered by the behavior of her son and yet...she loves him.

In our Visiting Teaching message this month one sentence stood out for me. It said, “As you become more and more familiar with the truths of the scriptures, you will be more and more effective in keeping the second great commandment, to love your neighbor as yourself."

I think, since this is the second commandment, I should work at it a little harder. I am going to try and see others as Christ sees them.

Years ago I read a story of a school teacher who went into a tough school to teach--one where violence was a common occurrence. The first day, in each of her classes, she did not speak until she had looked in the face of each student. When she could see the face of Christ in them she would go on to the next student. She said she had NO trouble with any of her students that year. I think it is because they knew she loved them.

I want to be a person like that.

MUCH TO SAY, BUT NOT ENOUGH TIME TO DO IT

I have lots to say but can't tonight because everything deserves some time. Actually, it's all about people and that shouldn't be rushed, even if no one but me reads it.

I will just say this:

I met a marvelous woman--whose blog I follow--today. More about her later.

I met with my personal history group. The girl whose house we meet at wrote an incredible poem which gave me much to think about. She is a very intuitive woman and one of the best people I know. More later.

I got a tender email from a friend, which I cannot tell about later, but which touched me, helped me--her cousin said it would and he didn't even know me or know that it was me it would help--and which gave me many, many things to ponder. She blesses my life. I have printed it so I can read it again and again.

I'm going on a trek with one of my incredible sons tomorrow and I am looking forward to it more than I would have realized. I helped him up when he fell down when he was a baby and now he helps me up when I emotionally fall down. Life is a never ending circle, perhaps. And he's funny.

I am so lucky to have my daughter's sister-in-law as a friend. She is also incredible. Pictures soon to follow of the dearest ornament ever which is all about love.

I read people's blogs on this marvelous thing we call the Internet and am amazed at people's goodness, complexity, commitment, joy and triumph over sorrow and down right funniness. My daughter, Gilmore Girl always seems to say just the thing to make me smile, and just when I need it. How lucky I am to have children.

One of these days I need to finish my ABC's of gratitude. I don't even know what letter I'm on. So, that will come later too.

That's all, nothing said but everything promised.

SIX WORDS FOR MELTING AT GRANDMA'S

Children melting, just like wicked witch.

ADDICTED TO LOVE

Today, in Sunday School, the teacher, Jeanne Inouye, said she had a friend who once said she thinks we were all born addicted to love. She said we left our Father, who loves us so much that we cannot comprehend it, and when we are born we are in withdrawal. Well, I don't think she actually said that last part but I think that's what happens.

We get here and we bond with someone, for me it's my Mom--"I miss you Mom, every dang day I miss you," and then we spend the rest of our lives trying to prove our Independence because we think loving someone that much is a sign of weakness so we do stupid things to show we will run our own lives, thankyouverymuch, and we end up hurting the one we love the most.

Sometimes it's hard to love completely because things happen:

Some rottenlittlestinker children, who do what a rottenlittlestinker children do, make fun of you in one way or another or exclude you or do some other rotten-stinker-behavior to you and you shut down a little bit.

Then a teacher belittles you because her husband said she burned the eggs and, "yes, those pants make your rear end look big, because it is big," and so she takes it out on you and you shut down a little bit more.

Then the boy you like in high school likes the cheerleader, who obviously is not up to his standards and you are, but he can't see it. He doesn't ask you out to Prom and you shut down a little more. The cheerleader won't give him the time of day, by the way, and so he shuts down a little bit too and thinks he's not worthy of a decent girl, when there you are, all decent and waiting. This actually happened to a boy I know. It took him YEARS to get the courage to even date.

And time passes and other things happen and then you fall in love and the one we love stores memory and then uses it later--not in a good way. "Well, you told me that you..." and then they tell some embarrassing PRIVATE thing you told them that they shouldn't use against you. They might say, "I didn't know that would hurt you," or "Don't be so sensitive," or some other nonsense. So, you shut down a bit more.

Then someone at work pulls a dirty trick and takes credit for your idea and if you make a stink you will be branded a trouble maker and so....

You get the idea.

And then the children come. And, wonder of wonder, miracle of miracles, you love them totally and completely. And they think they are supposed to be independent and they pull away and you love them completely anyway and then you understand God a little bit and you are amazed. After all, he is God and he must love you way more than you love your child and then you can't believe the good luck you have, to be loved like that.

And then you forget it and let the world interfere and so, I am here to remind you. Don't you forget it. Don't make me come down there.

THE ABC'S OF GRATITUDE--L

L--I am grateful for love. Grateful I was born into a family who loved me.

My dad was killed in a plane crash before I was two and I have always missed the love he had for me. the chapter I am writing this week has all the emotion I have always had about being raised without him. It's been hard to write because I have been so angry and feel so cheated.

Mom remarried and Daddy loved me. Even when I was a dirty-rotten-stinker. I adored him. He was a marvelous man. I am a better person for being raised by him and I love him with all my heart.

The love I have for my Mom cannot be described. She loved me totally and I loved her back. I miss her so much that some days I sneak away to the bathroom and cry. She was the ideal mother, fixing tea parties for Holly and me, grinning and bearing my teenage hysterics, adoring my babies and my teenagers, loving Phil as if he were her own son, and always, always, loving me.

I had two amazing sisters. Each was different and unique. Who I am is in some part because of how they treated me when I was growing up. They loved me and I loved them but there was all that sibling stuff going on. My book is full of that sibling stuff. It may be hard for my sister to read--then again maybe she will never have to. I hope she will understand that without all that sibling stuff I would be a weak, easily wounded sissy and that she helped make me strong. My other sister died way to early and when I am crying--in the bathroom for my mom--I cry for her, too.

I have been in love maybe three times in my life. I was lucky that the man I loved the most, Phil, loved me back. He's loved me when I was grumpy, depressed, angry--I threw water on him once from the second story balcony because I was so angry--actually that time we ended up laughing. He's loved me through good times, the birth of our children, the funny, laugh out loud times. He knows me better than anyone else and loves me anyway. He is my strength. He is strong in the gospel and loves the Lord and tries to do what is right. I love him for his commitment and his goodness. I love him for a hundred different reasons.

I love the children. They come as babies and we are charmed. By the time they get interesting it's too late and we are hooked. And they were interesting in unnumbered ways. We waited them out and soon they became interesting in milder ways and now we are friends. I am madly in love with each of them. I love who they have chosen to love and spend their lives with. They have given us grandchildren and the grandchildren are charismatic and we are as hooked on them as we are about our children. Some of them just have dogs and so we love the dogs while we are being patient for the charismatic grandchildren.

And I can't talk about love without mentioning my "goodest," daily, life-changing-for-the-better friends. They know me almost as well as Phil does and maybe even better than the kids. Some are email buddies, some are "spittin' distance" ones and some are not seen often but are friends to the end.

And I've saved the best for last. I love Heavenly Father and Jesus. I am so grateful I had the chance to come to earth and receive a body and find Phil and be allowed to bear Heavenly Father's children. I am in love with the fact that Father trusts me. I let him down and what does he do? Trusts me again. He must love me a lot to let me make all these mistakes and let me decide when I am going to make things better. And he sent Jesus to atone for me and for all His children and then, if that weren't enough, he sent the Holy Ghost to warn, comfort and guide.

I am blessed to have loved and been loved.

CRICKET THE GOOD DOG, ZOEY THE NOT-SO-GOOD

This is Cricket. He is a wonderful dog, very well trained, friendly, and never leaves the yard unless with his owner, He sat on my lap, yesterday, to be pampered.
And this is Cricket and Zoey. Zoey is a four-month-old puppy and very untrained, undisciplined and doesn't seem to be bonding with her owner, who is an older lady who has lost her husband and really needs a friend. Zoey is not a friend, she is an escape artist, intent only on her own agenda.
Zoey was put into a pen so we could see how quickly she escapes, which was so fast I only got one picture. She climbs up the wire until she is over the top and out.

Cricket is very perplexed. Why would anyone want to cage the puppy? Because the puppy is annoying, that's why. Everyone knows it but the owner, who wants to see the best in her fluffy mop-dog.

And that is like parents too. We want to see the best in our kids and so we only see the good things. Our parents did the same and then we stepped up to the mark and became better people. But, when we were little there was much training and teaching. The same for our kids. But Zoey is not getting any training or discipline. I don't see her becoming a good doggie anytime soon. I hope I am wrong. Her owner deserves better.

THE NOISE FACTOR or ARE WE CRAZY YET?

The child factor: Tonight some neighborhood kids were out playing. What they were really doing is screaming--for twenty minutes they screamed which sent the poor dog next door on a barking spree. Screaming usually mean "help." Not today, it meant, "We really don't know how to play, but we've watched a billion hours of TV and we sure have seen a lot of screaming so that must be what people do." 'And so they did.

The band factor: Every day, it seems, we get a free band concert. My dear neighbor, whose kids are in the high school marching band asked me one day, "Can you hear the band practice after school?"

"Oh, yes," I said.

"Me too," she said. And then I realized--she liked it! Of course she liked it, it means I know where my kids are and what they are doing. I didn't have the heart to say, "It's driving me crazy." She was so happy, hearing the band fill the air with drums and trumpets FOR HOURS ON END.

The high school mascot is the Thunderbird. Thundering and bird screeches. It figures.

This is a picture of the BYU band but the Thunderbirds make every bit as much noise, I'm sure of it.

The garbage man cometh: We now have three different garbage trucks. One for garbage. One for yard waste, that the city composts and sells back to us for our gardens. One for recyclables. Garbage trucks do not have mufflers. What they have is noise extenders.

Garbage trucks also have "The claw!" It grabs the garbage can, propels it upwards at ninety-five miles and hour and shakes it over the truck bed like a Coyote with a rabbit. "Clunk!" the can is deposited back on the street with such force that the wheels pop off. It falls over and a remaining stray soup can rolls out and into the gutter. They start this scary, insane noise and fearful demonstrations at 6:00 AM. We had a woman garbage truck driver the other day and she drove forty-five miles an hour IN OUR CUL-DE-SAC. What's up with that? I thought she was going to to slam breaks and skid into the neighbor's house.

Garbage trucks that empty dumpsters know they can not rely on their puny noise extenders to wake you out of a sound sleep so they crash the dumpsters with such force that the concrete has to be replaced. They have to do this for the sound to carry for five miles. They have also made a deal with the concrete man, who is their brother-in-law. Then those garbage trucks back up, and the "beep-beep-beep" causes people in bedrooms all over the city to roll over and hit the snooze buttons on their alarm clocks. Then, before they figure it's time for the alarm to beep again, they get up and shower. These people get to work an hour early and they have no idea why.

The school is "bing-bonging" me into insanity: We live close to two schools. An elementary and a high school. One of them has some kind of "bing-bong, bing-bong, bing" warning system attached to something ALL DAY LONG. I don't know if this is the noise of their phone's make or a warning when they are going to make announcements so the kids have time to turn their ear off or what, but it is enough to make me want to stick needles in my ears.

Jet airplane engines masquerading as lawn trimmers and lawn mowers: Is it my imagination or have lawn trimmers and lawn mowers gotten louder? We sit outside a lot, visiting with neighbors. When other neighbors decide to do yard work we have to put conversation on hold. I think trimmers and mowers are engineered by men who are hearing impaired. I know, they think, let's compensate by making our products sound like jet airplanes taking off. The we will always know whether the mower/trimmer is on and we won't put our fingers under there and get them chopped off.

People with silly little electronic lizard tails attached to their ears: I realize they have a right to get a phone call. What I can't understand is why they talk louder when on the phone. Is my conversation with my lunch companion bothering them?
Motorcycles: I saw a sign on a motorcycle the other day. It said, "Start seeing motorcycles." The motorcycle engineers figured that if we heard motorcycles maybe we'd also see them. The problem is the car engineers are making cars more and more soundproof so the motorcycle engineers have to ramp up the noise. It's a contest between the two. Something ate the only noise that's pleasant: For years we didn't have crickets out front. Two years ago a cricket found the front yard, climbed the oak trees and crick'd. It was so pleasant. This year there were two of them. How do I know? The second one was a cricket's heart beat behind the first one for a day and then he learned to stay in rhythm. 'Then one day there was a "clicking" insect in oak trees. I never saw him but I heard him. He ate my crickets. They were easy to find. They advertised. The next day the only noise was The Clicker and then the next day he moved to the back yard to eat those crickets. My teenage neighbor has to collect 50 insects for his science class. I'd donate The Clicker in an instant if I could find him. But, after dining on my crickets he moved on. My neighbor plays in the band. It would be some kind of justice if he ended up with The Clicker, stuck on a pin in his insect box. I can only hope.

PLEASE WATCH CHILDREN CAREFULLY WHILE IN OUR STORE.

This was the sign posted in the store that Gilmore Girl, Tuesday and I shopped at on Friday.I took their advice seriously. I watched as Tuesday found a convenient stool at the jewelry table.
She tried on the bracelets. She was very impressed with the gold purse. What do you use this for, Grandma?Oh, lookit! More sparkleys! And would you look at these prices? Unbelievable.
I watched as she climbed out of the dressing room.
She tried on hats. She made a "turkey lip." She played with tags.
And she tried on sunglasses.

The store's policy was a good idea. It was fun watching Tuesday while in their store.

PS Don't ask what product that is in the green box. I have no knowledge. I see no evil. I speak no evil.

SIX WORDS FOR RETURNING CHILDREN

Children back, "Can I shake them?"

WE MET AN OLD FRIEND THE OTHER DAY

His kids are grown and gone. Oh, wait. They are supposed to be grown and gone. Right now one has returned home. Our friend thought by now he would just be grandparenting, not having his children home with angst that should have played out years ago. He said something like this:

"We know we aren't supposed to shake babies because of the possibility of brain damage but these grown kids...how about them? There is the possibility that they are already brain damaged and so it shouldn't matter. Should it?"

We had a good laugh and then departed and I remembered a time when one of my kids was having their own angst and this man was there with encouragement and love and concern. What a great man he is and how we treasure his friendship. It's people like him that change the world for the better.

Mumm tagged me to Finish These Five

I'm supposed to answer the questions and then tag five people, who, if you know me, I won't do. If you want to play then do. I'm supposed to let the person who tagged me know when I've posted my answers, which I will do. Thanks Mumm, for giving me an easy post today.

The Five

Ten years ago:

1. I had a nine year old child who I thought was the cutest thing alive--and she was.
2. The next youngest was eighteen--oh my, he was interesting. He's perfectly wonderful now but at eighteen he was interesting.
3. My other girl was twenty-three and married, a beautiful woman--one of the best things that ever happened to me was this wonderful girl.
4. My second boy was twenty-six, married with two darling boys. This son is just as funny then as now and is as incredibly in love with his wife then as now.
5. My oldest boy was just thirty, he had his hearts desire--his wife, and all was well. They had a beautiful girl and a handsome boy and he was the keeper of all things computerish in my life. I bless him for his patience with me. I remember him sighing and then saying, "Mom, I've told you how to do that about five times." Now I say those things to Phil.

Five things on today’s “to do” list:

1. Make bread--still haven't done it and it's 6:30--I think its going on tomorrow's to do list.
2. Fix dinner--Phil wants something good--it's 6:30 and I have no idea what to fix him--leftovers, I think.
3. Laundry--washed and folded, not put away yet.
4. Write--spent 5 hours on a chapter, then read the first chapter and made corrections.
5. Read first chapter of SELF-EDITING FOR FICTION WRITERS: HOW TO EDIT YOURSELF INTO PRINT. I did this and then I went back and wrote out some of my mistakes in the chapter that I spent five hours on. I recommend this book.

Five Snacks I enjoy:

1. Popcorn with browned butter
2. Dark chocolate
3. Chili cheese chips--but I don't eat many of those
4. Green apples--green, as in "not ripe," with salt
5. Raw rhubarb with salt

Five Things I would do if I was a millionaire:

1. First and foremost pay my tithing and taxes.
2. Remodel this house.
3. Set up a vacation fund for each of the kids.
4. Set up a mission fund for the grandkids and a education fund too.
5. Go to Europe

Five Places I have lived:

1. Annabella, Utah--I like Annabella more and more as I write this book but when I grew up there, I knew there was a whole world out there that I didn't know anything about and I was very jealous of people who did.
2. Salt Lake City, Utah
3. Greensboro, North Carolina
4. Two different ares in California. One, an hour south of San Francisco and the other an hour north of San Francisco.
5. Provo, Utah, my favorite place on the earth

Later note: Tonight for dinner one of the things I made was some zucchini and it was delicious. I chopped a medium sized zucchini and put in a frying pan with a bit of butter, half a chopped onion, one minced clove garlic, half a pkg. of Knorr dry Vegetable soup mix and some water. Simmered it about five minutes. It was delicious. Phil did get a decent dinner tonight, after all.

FATHER'S DAY AND THE SUGAR MONSTER AND MY AUTHOR

Today most of the family was here for Father's Day. We had more food than we needed and it was all tasty. Michelle brought cookies and I snitched a bite--her cookies are the best. But it was a bite of sugar. I made brownie trifle and I snitched three bites. Sugar, sugar, sugar. I think it was worth it but listen to this--maybe it was not.

My sister quit sugar with me. The other day she went to a wedding reception and then to dinner and ate desserts at both places and it sent her into a depression. She even cried! This is a testimony for me to STAY OFF SUGAR if it can impact my sister in such a horrible way. I wonder what it does for me? No, not for me, against me. I wonder what it does for--or against--you?

Tomorrow my conference at BYU starts. Phil and I picked up the author I am assisting at the airport in Salt Lake City, Sally Warner. She writes three to four hours a day for at least six and sometimes seven days a week. Yes, I am impressed. She didn't start writing until she was forty and has 25 books published. I am even more impressed.

So, if you want to write get busy. Make the time. Learn the rules. Keep at it. Even if you are never published you will leave a rich heritage for your family.

Tomorrow and all week I will try to post some gem I have learned.

Happy Father's Day to all the fathers and thank you to Phil for making me a mother and for loving the children, worrying about the children and being impressed with the children who have given us such wonderful grandchildren and for the fact that they are teaching the grandchildren so well. Our children and grandchildren are our ticket into watching the future unfold in a magnificent way.

SIX WORD TUESDAY 6-10-08

Your children are fine--you too.

WORDS OF COMFORT

Monroe McKay is a circuit court judge. He is #3 on my "I love that man," list. Right after Phil and my daddy. (Calm down children, you know I love you and your spouses--you are in a whole different category, which we shall discuss some day.)

Years ago, Monroe~I should probably call him Judge McKay but I'm not going to~gave the Mother's Day talk that saved every mother in the ward from the "guilt's." We put aside the "I am a lousy mother," self talk and actually felt we were adequate and maybe even more than adequate. We were fine. We were good or even great.

He has a way about him that makes you believe every word he says and since he is one of those totally honest human beings, you know you are safe believing every word.

Monroe knows how much I loved his original Mother's Day talk because I have been nagging him to have it written and published. Every mother in ALL THE WORLD should have a copy. I have nagged him about 756 times, or every time I see him at church. ~I try to vary my mode of nagging so he isn't bored. I'm considerate, that way.

This year he again gave a talk on Mother's Day in Sacrament meeting. It was, of course, wonderful. His grandson recorded it and Monroe made sure I will receive a copy. (Chris Clark also gave a talk. He was also wonderful. He too made us feel adequate, fine, good and even great and I believe him also because he is another of those totally honest people. He's darn funny, to boot. Check out his blog.) It was a great Mother's Day for me and I have heard from lots of other mothers, young and old who felt the same way.

Anyway, on Sunday Monroe told me that he is going to make an addendum to his talk and give it to me. He told me some of the things he is going to add. They are comforting. Now, I am not in any way eloquent. Monroe is. I wrote what he said down as fast as my little fingers could write but my interpretation of what he said is inadequate so translate it, as you read, into wonderful words.

From Monroe: When you don't get the outcome you want (concerning your children and the hopes you had for them) you can rejoice in what you do get.

Love is the key to your children knowing they are safe to return home, even if they know you do not approve of their behavior. They know you love them and will welcome them home. ~Love it the key.~

Monroe graduated from college eight years behind his class mates and also graduated from law school eight years behind his class mates. If your child is a slow starter just wait. They will figure out what is best for them.

He talked to us until Sacrament Meeting started and I hung on every word--I can't put it all here, nor could I write it fast enough.

Monroe is married the the most patient, loving, giving woman on planet earth. She has enriched my life in ways too numerous to mention. If I could be 50% like she is I would really be a wonderful human being. Between the two of them they are a force to be reckoned with. In a good way. I have never seen her sad. She is simply a happy person, no matter what.

These things Monroe said sound simple, especially the first one but go back and read it and then rejoice.

And rejoice over yourself too. You are more than adequate. You are fine--really fine.

PS I love the word, "fine." The British know how to use that word. We, as Americans, are so used to the exaggeration that many good words are no longer used. Things are not "fine" any more, they are "awesome." Niagara Falls is awesome but a mountain stream, that chuckles and burbles through the forest and falls down, through a few boulders, here and there, making small waterfalls is fine. I would rather sit by the small mountain steam ten thousand times than sit by Niagara Falls even once.

Be glad to be fine. It's not only adequate but, well, fine.

CALLING HOME IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DAY.

Last week at church, in our marriage and family relations class, our teacher said something like, "I try to always remember to call my wife in the middle of the day and tell her I love her."

Good grief, man. Don't you know you wife is busy in the middle of the day? Here are some of the things she is doing"

Changing the diaper--Oh, no, I have to stop in the middle of this and hope I can reach the phone without the baby flipping onto the floor or peeing on the wall .

Food preparation--Oh, no. I have to wash my hands but if I do that I'll miss that call so I'll swipe them with a paper towel and then wipe them on my pants. And then, for the rest of the day, bits of pant-debris will peel off her pants like tiny food cigars.

Watching Oprah or Rachael Ray or other important TV shows for a FEW, VERY FEW MINUTES and the phone rings during some time other than commercials--Oh, no. just when I was going to find out how to achieve world peace or how to make a great dinner in 20 minutes.

Lying in a heap somewhere for ten minutes while the children are miraculously napping or otherwise engaged when the phone rings--Oh, no. I was almost asleep for eleven seconds.

She then drags herself off the couch and answers the phone and fakes a cheerful voice and says some lie like, "Oh, honey, how nice of you to call."

As soon as she hangs up the baby cries or one of the kids flushes a toy or the last bit of her perfume down the toilet and her hope for more than eleven seconds of rest for the day are GONE.

In the middle of some household task the phone rings: Oh, no. Who could that be. She never gets back to the task and when hubby gets home and the laundry is still in a messy pile on the couch he looks at her like she is a slacker and vows never to call with loving words again.

Do yourself a favor, men. Before you leave the house give her a hug and tell her you love her and then tell her to think of somewhere she'd like to go for date night on Friday and call it good. Then, when you get home put an apron on and say, "What can I do to help?"

She will adore you until all the days of your life and a whole lot longer.

Now that will lead to a great marriage and a great relationship.

Trust me.