MY SISTER HAS BEEN MARRIED 50 YEARS

My sister and her husband have been married for fifty years. Last night her kids and grandkids threw them a surprise party. They have flown in from Virginia to Hawaii and everywhere in between. It was very nice. I took a few photos and now it has been confirmed. My photography skills are ZERO. There isn't one photo that I am proud of. I'm sorry to post all these lousy ones but it's all I have.

Coming in the door at the church

cultural center. Surprise! Their oldest

son, Jordan, ushered them in,

telling them that the grandkids were

playing indoorsoccer in the cultural hall.

The daughter-in-law who didn't go to dinner

with everyone so she could co-ordinate all

the decorations and food. How the whole

group kept this party a secret is beyond

my understanding.They will kill me when they see this.

None of them look like this. They are

pleasant looking in real life.

I promise they are. Aubrey, a granddaughter.

I didn't have the red-eye flash on.

The newest granddaughter.

Obviously the next set of photo are of

nothing. Real photographers don't take

pictures of nothing. And not that any

of these people are nothing--

the pictures are just bad.

Gordon and Julie looking at the book the

kids/grandkids made. Photos of their life

together. It was wonderful.

Son, Chris with his daughter. She has been

eating all kinds of things dipped in chocolate.Lizzie, Julie and Gordon's great-grandchild

with her Grandma, Lezlie their daughter.This is Lezlie's daughter-in-law. There

are three generations here. You'd think

I'd have added Julie and Gordon and made

it four, wouldn't you? Not so. Why? Because

I only think of the right thing to do a day late.

Today I thought of it. A day late.

This is one of Julie's best friends, JoAnne.

They met when they were all going to college

and lived in the same married housing.

Again, obviously. I think I can take photos

in the dark. Sorry, JoAnne.This was my favorite part of the whole

evening. Lezlie and Brennan did a skit of

their parents, going out to eat. It was

hilarious! Really nailed those two, from Julie

bringing her own water to finding a bargain

meal to taking bunches ofvitamins and quoting

how wonderful they were.

I didn't even get a photo of all the grown

children. I feel bad about that but I know

other people were taking photos too,

surely they were better than I at this.

Mormon's all over the world will recognize

this photo of the basketball floor. It is a

multi purpose room used for playing basketball,

wedding reception, overflow for Sacrament Meeting,

activities for the Scouts, Young

Men's and Young Women's organizations,

Relief Society, Primary, luncheons

after funerals, etc.

They had a slide show of photos of the time

they met and were dating to marriage,

children,the three missions they

served for the church, trips, pictures

of all the grandkids, etc.

Happy Anniversary to my sis and her hubby. What a great life you have had together and what a fine posterity you have. You have both enriched our lives and the lives of our children by the way you live, the commitments you keep and your great faith in the Savior.

We love you.

ALL IN FAVOR OF "SPOILING DINNER" RAISE YOUR HANDS

One of my sisters had eight kids. I know. Insane. But she was a saint and could handle eight. One day they were at Mom's and were hungry. They were wolfing down soda crackers. (That's what we called "saltines" in the dark ages.) Anyway, Mom (their Grandma) said, "Don't eat those crackers, it will spoil your dinner!"

My sister looked at the eight kids and said, "Go ahead. Eat the crackers. We should be so lucky they would spoil your dinner."

Now, my question is: Is there a magic food product--like soda crackers...okay, saltines--that would spoil people's dinner? And if so, why isn't the diet industry marketing it? And why don't I have some of it in my kitchen/purse/desk drawer? And do you think it would be a chocolate repelant?

If anyone knows of such a product, then why haven't you told me about it already?!

CABBAGE FOR DINNER--A STORY FROM MY PERSONAL HISTORY GROUP TODAY

I must have been five or six years old at the time this happened.

CABBAGE FOR DINNER

I walked into the kitchen and smelled the most hated food on the planet. Cabbage. The smell made me sick to my stomach. I couldn’t eat it; I couldn’t eat dinner at all. My sister thought I was faking and told Mom—and anyone else who would listen—that I should be made to eat cabbage. She said that just the smell of something couldn’t make me sick.

Mom listened politely but she had different ideas. She set a card table and chair for me on the back porch by the big chest freezer. She filled my plate with all the food everyone else was eating except for the cabbage and then she brought the plate of food out to me. I sat with my arms folded while I heard someone say the blessing in the kitchen.

"Amen," I said and as soon as everyone else said "amen" my sister started again. “You are spoiling her," she said.

Was I spoiled like food left too long in the fridge? I looked at my arms and hands and fingers. I wasn’t moldy. I shrugged and ate my dinner. Listening to the hum of the freezer was pleasant and I liked eating alone on the porch.

Every time Mom fixed cabbage she listened to my sister tell her she was spoiling me and every time she ignored my sister and let me eat on the back porch, where I knew I would have the freezer humming for company. I decided being spoiled meant that my mom believed me, loved me, and made things special for me. I was lucky to be spoiled.

PS I love cooked cabbage now and I love my sister, too, much, much more than cabbage.

THE CHAPTER BOOK

Here are some of the things DeAnn and I decided I need to take out of, or put in, my chapter book. (DeAnn's blog is here.)

We took out the cattle guard at the cemetery. We figured modern kids wouldn't know what a cattle guard is and it had no reference to the story anyway. I overwrite. Obviously. I'm sure you have noticed this.

We took out my wanting to sit on the grave that had the ornamental fence around it. (I slept on my grandparents graves once--with all my girl friends, but that's a story for another day.)

We took out Mr. Anderson's grammar lesson.

We decided we needed the "smell" of the country store.

We liked the thumping of the watermelon but again, it has no reference to the story. Can I somehow pick up the watermelon and shoot it later? (Reference to, "If you show a gun someone is going to have to shoot it later.") Maybe watermelons are exempt. In the version DeAnn didn't see, they thumped the different watermelons to play a tune. DeAnn is spared some nonsense.

I decided the protagonist wants to design shoes, not be a fashion designer. I'm not sure either one works. I got the idea from Curly Sue who wants to be a fashion designer but not sew the fabric, just pick it out.

I took the reference about the bottle caps out before I even showed it to DeAnn. I loved it though. Maybe I'll put it back so she can tell me to take it out next week.

We took out that the plural of dice is die.

We took out that Mr. Drake chops off the lamb's tails. He did it with an "Ai-Yah" and a very big knife. Some things are obviously not meant to be in kid's books.

I ended the chapter--twice too long, I think--without a climax. I ran out of steam. I must fix all this stuff by next week. I didn't talk about how the sandals were ruined or the protagonist knew her sister was going to punish her.

Oh, how well sisters can punish and never have to lay a hand on the victim. I am personally damaged by my clever sister's psychological punishment. That's why I blog, to punish my readers as I was once punished. Is it working?

CITIZENS OF TAMPA BEWARE

News flash.


This is a warning to all the citizens of Tampa, Florida. There is a rogue "dough blob" loose in the sewer system of the city. Rumor has it that an unnamed woman was making Pioneer Woman's Cinnamon Rolls for Christmas breakfast but since the alleged citizen has NEVER IN HER LIFE WORKED WITH YEAST she took a wrong turn in the kitchen and the cinnamon roll dough took on a life of it's own. Things were not going well.


She emailed her sister in Utah for advice. "What should I do with it? Should I flush it down the toilet?"

Her sister--I will call her Pam--, being the compassionate sister that she is, laughed hysterically and then dialed her sister's phone number and when the alleged baker picked up the phone she didn't even say "Hello." All she said was, "It's too late. It's flushed!"

Now we all know about "The Alligator," the one that lives in all sewers everywhere. The Tampa alligator tried to eat the dough blob but by now the dough blob had grown--being fed with sugary treats that had also been flushed by mothers who were tired of children bouncing off walls--and the blob attacked back. The Alligator left town and was last seen heading for Miami.

The Blob then proceeded to worm it's way into various toilets just to have a look around and get decorating tips. If the bathroom was decorated in "early make-up clutter and soapy bathtub toys, towels-on-the-floor" style the alleged blob waited slyly in the pipes. When a citizen was sitting, reading a back issue of the Reader's Digest, The Blob gave the citizen a little whack on the bottom with a blob-like tentacle. Men are particularly vulnerable. Reports have been coming in--from bottom-whacked victims--from all parts of the city and the possibility that the blob has procreated is high.

So, if you are tempted to make Pioneer Woman's Cinnamon Rolls--and they do look delicious--but you have NEVER WORKED WITH YEAST, think again. The city can only take so much trauma. The emergency room doctors and nurses are overloaded with bottoms sporting welts of the tentacle whacking type.

And besides that, Tampa is now without an Alligator. The tourist dollar may be on the decline because of this new development. The Chamber of Commerce will be meeting next week to see if they can put a positive "tourist enticing" spin on the blobish sewer phenomena. Tampa citizens are encouraged to call the Chamber of Commerce office with suggestions. Ask for Maude.

End of report.

THE COMPLICATED LIFE

Today I did not have a personal history story written for group. This is almost the first time in two years that I have not been prepared.

The women in the group let me talk after everyone else had read and I talked about the book. The book. The book where I am exorcising my ghosts. One ghost. The loss of my birth dad.

I am beginning to realize this book cannot be about my loss alone. My sisters lost too, especially Julie--who will be referred to as the troll occasionally in the book. Poor Julie to be portrayed in such a way--she hardly resembles a troll at all. Anyway, I have a hot tempered scene in my head between me and the troll, who, I will have to call something nicer because she put up with "the brat" all those years and has never been properly thanked for it.

Mom had the biggest loss of all. Julie told me some of the details of what happened after my dad's death. Mom tried to hold the business together but the physical work was overwhelming.

I have another scene with her and Aunt Dee trying to make mattresses but their strength just wasn't enough. It will have to be a dialogue scene, painted by the speaker--haven't decided who that will be yet--who watched and participated more than I did. I just ate dirt, probably, and peed my pants.

So, the book is getting more complicated. Life is complicated. We don't know what someone else is going through while we merrily waltz Matilda--that is if we know how to waltz and we know Matilda and if she doesn't want to lead. We should always be on the lookout for subtle signs that someone else is in distress--that someone is suffering, is sad, is grieving or even is angry.

I told one of my son's once to, "Watch for the signs." (This was after he teased Gilmore Girl to the edge of insanity and she broke down and cried.) He said, "What signs?" He honestly didn't know. Some of us are more in tune that others but it's a skill that can be taught. Sadly, sufferers aren't likely to say, "Hey listen. I'm having a crappy life. Could you cut me a little slack here?" So we go on our merry way, not helping, not loving or being compassionate. Judging. Often judging.

Life is complicated. We don't know what someone else is dealing with. I wonder if we could be a little more careful. Watch for the subtleties. The sighs. The forced laughter. The silences. The countenance that is devoid of joy. The heavy hands that hang down.

I wonder if a word of kindness would help. A hand on the shoulder. An "I'm sorry." Hardly ever can we change things, but we can listen. We can let the other know, maybe even just by a look, that we might understand, maybe only 10% but that's better than nothing. Maybe even if they see us eat some dirt and pee our pants they could say to themselves, "Well, at least I'm not that bad." Maybe it would help.

I don't think it helped my Mom or my sisters. I was just one more detail that had to be taken care of but maybe it did help. Maybe it gave them something to take their mind off their loss. There is nothing so delightful as a two year old and maybe I was there, at that time for a reason, more than I know.

Anyway, life is complicated, isn't it? I wish we could have a visual image that shows how we are all connected and then a visual image that shows how we have helped one another. I'll bet we would even be connected to Kevin Bacon somehow. Maybe in as little as four steps.

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.

SIX WORDS FOR THE MIRACLE OF THE SLEEP-OVER SISTER

Saved a life? What a surprise!

WHAT A DAY!

Tuesday has turned three years old.
She said she wanted a a bear for her birthday. But she chose a rabbit. "I don't like this one any more," she said after it was stuffed and had clothes. "I want a different one." Tuesday's mother, Gilmore Girl said--perhaps through gritted teeth--"This is the one you chose and this is the one you're going home with."We must scour all the shelves for possible expensive stuff for the rabbit, whose name is Sally.
Curly Sue helped her look high. Thank you, sister, for helping me find all the best stuff.
Now I'm so tired I can hardly walk.

But Mom made me carry my own Bear-box, so I drug it through Gymboree, where Curly Sue said, "Do these fit?"

And then she said, "Lookit this," and almost came out of her shoes with her looking.Tuesday had to drag Sally in her box through the parking lot and then...

...it was so big she couldn't even see. But that doesn't stop her. The goal? The same as all little girls everywhere, get this rabbit undressed.

She finally got Sally out of the box but had to rest for a minute and then...some serious undressing. What a fine shopping day for Sally the rabbit.Curly Sue thinks its funny that Tuesday undresses the rabbit. But she did the same things. All little girls do, no matter if its a rabbit or a doll. The clothes must come off.

As soon as Grandma got home her youngest boy, Lord Bumhampton came with his lovely wife, Nurse Giggleswitch.
They, of course, never t ravel alone.
They bring Arnoldand Gordon. Phil likes to have lengthy conversations with Gordon.

Just as they were getting ready to leave more family showed up.
This is Guitar Hero, Joe Cool and Phil.

Hollywood, striking a pose.

Her sister, Mary Poppins, also striking a pose.

Their Mom, Yoga Princess.

The girls are showing off their school clothes.
Mary Poppins was giving Joe Cool rabbit ears but she didn't quite make it fast enough,
Guitar Hero, doing some serious lounging.

It was a good day. Lots of activities and lots of family, which, after all is the most important thing of all. Family.