MY SHIRT STINKS

I was going to wear the same white shirt I wore yesterday. Can't. It stinks of garlic or maybe pizza. I can't decide who to blame: Long-Underwear woman's garlicky-potato-breakfast or Heaps. Bummer.

PS I have a son who hates "bummers." He'd hate my shirt for sure.

DID I SMELL LIKE GARLIC OR WAS IT HEAPS

Today, at Beam Ray I sat next to Miss Long Underwear. She is usually there all day so she brings stuff to eat. She opened a Tupperware container today and the smell of garlic filled the room. I raised one eyebrow. "Wow," I said, "What is the sauce on that dish?"

"I don't do sauce," She said.

All rightey then, I thought in my snarkiest inner voice as I tried to do the shallow breathing, but the garlic! Oh my.

I thought of that Peter Sellers PINK PANTHER movie where he has on the hunchback costume when the phone starts to ring. He puts his hands over his ears and lurches all over the room, saying, "The bells! The bells!" I wanted to put my hands over my nose and say, "The smells! The smells!" I wanted to lurch all over the room, too. I wanted to lurch out the door.

Her "breakfast" was potatoes, garlic--equal portions, I'm convinced--carrots and something else, maybe green onions. She finally put it away. In twenty minutes she got it out again. It really did smell good, but oh my. I didn't want to smell it, not at Beam Ray, anyway.

Phil was extra nice to Miss Long Underwear. He later told me that I was indeed snarky, and not just in my inner voice either, and he wanted to be nice to make up for my bad attitude.

We were there about an hour and fifteen minutes and then Phil dropped me at Heaps, where I was meeting friends for lunch. We were chatting in the lobby, waiting for everyone to get there when one of our friends came in. The first thing she said was, "It sure smells good in here!"

It was me. I just know that it was me.

That's me, on the bottom row, second from the right. You can recognize me by the garlic fumes emanating from my clothes, skin, hair, jewelry and anything else I have on.

Photo and outing organized by Pam, who always has a plethora of good ideas.

PS I really do like Miss Long Underwear. She has a certain amount of charm and is way more cheerful in one day than I can be in a month. She says she has had a lot of health problems and they are going away with her Beam Ray devotion. I don't know why I was snarky. I think I must have the snark gene and it becomes dominant when garlic is present. Maybe I have vampire tendencies, too and the garlic just made me want to go into a dark room and lean against a wall. Maybe I should write a book. (A little TWILIGHT humor for you to hold your head in your hands about.)

THE REASON MRS. BIRD'S WAS LATE

I am Mrs. Bird's new visiting teacher. Today was my first day to go visit her--my partner is nowhere to be found. I've called. No answer and their voicemail box is full. I've sent two emails. No answer. So I went alone.

I pulled into Mrs. Bird's driveway and my phone rang. It was Phil. "Mrs. Bird called. She said she couldn't remember what time you were coming and she's at her daughter's house getting her nails done. She'll be home in fifteen minutes."

In a half hour I called Mrs. Bird. They had just driven in so I went to see her. I allowed a whole hour for her visit because, well, if you've read any of the posts about her, you know she's a talker. There was only a half hour left and when time was up she was just warming up but I had to go. I had another appointment.

"You know," she said, "I'd have been home on time, but my husband went with me. He wanted his toenails done."

I didn't even ask.

TO BE FUNNY OR FUNNY LOOKIN', WHCH WOULD YOU CHOOSE?

My oldest daughter writes on her blog only occasionally but when she does she says funny things that I don't think she meant to be funny. Yesterdays blog was probably un-funny-to-her-life, but funny-to-me. Click here.

My other kids are funny too.

And I am funny lookin' so we're all pretty happy about things.

Hope you are funny too and if you can't be funny, then funny lookin' isn't so bad. At least you'll be memorable. There isn't much I hate worse than being un-memorable. Except this. People in my ward misspell my name. They get emails from me every stinkin' week--I'm the Relief Society Communication Specialist--isn't that a funny title. See? Funny. Anyway, I get emails from some of them occasionally--they even reply to my emails, and they call me "Lynn." My emails say "from Lynne Snyder." And their emails say, "Dear Lynn..."

I tell you, this is beginning to bother me. Now if they would say, "Dear person who looks like she's lost a lot of weight lately..." then I might be happier. But then again I might think, So, you thought I was a beached whale before, huh?

I tell you, tonight I just can't be pleased. I'm going to go read Hillary's blog again and see what she and her husband didn't tell each other because they weren't speaking. Then I will go to bed amused, instead of annoyed that my name is Lynn.

But I'm certainly annoyed that it is again after midnight and I am wide eyed and an hour and a half ago I was yawning! I don't have enough sense to pound sand in a rat hole. I'm not sure what that means but it was one of Mom's sayings and so it must mean something. Just like everything "means something" on Close Encounters of the Third Kind. And even Close Encounters of the Nerd Kind. I love those movies.

Okay, I'm going to bed now because I have become annoying, even to myself.

A MESSAGE FROM CARL THE WEATHERMAN

Carl the Weatherman says it isn't Global Warming. It's Global Climate Change and that it applies to the whole planet, not just Provo. Carl says they are having a warm spell and NO snow. They live in Canada, yet.

Happy Winter Olympic games, Carl. they've added a new feature this year. Dirt skiing. And rock snowboarding. And 100 meter ice water swimming. I have a box full of snow to send him. Watch for the UPS man, Carl. You and C.A. can have a snowball fight. Or donate it to the Olympics. In fact, maybe I'll send a truck full.

GLOBAL WARMING?

Yesterday, and especially last night, we had unbelievable winds--almost 70 miles an hour. We lost a huge limb out back and we have garbage all over the yard from all the garbage cans that tipped over in the night. (Today was garbage day and everyone's garbage can was in the street.)

I went to the Mock Caldecot party last night with a friend. We looked at over 30 picture books and tried to pick the winner--none of us had watched the news on Monday morning when the Coldecot winner was announced. On the way to the party we nearly got blown to the wrong house and on the way home--one measly block--we got a ride because the wind was worse!

Then today this is what we have.

Global warming? Not in Utah.

This is the Coldecot winner: THE LION AND THE MOUSE by Jerry Pinkney. No words at all, not even on the front cover! Just some "squeaks" and maybe a "roar," but I'm not sure about the roar. We had exactly one minute to look at each book and you simply can't get everything looked at or read in 60 seconds.

Jerry has been up for the Coldecot many times but never won before. He went to an art director for advice and was told, "You are afraid of white space." (He filled every inch of the page with something, even if it were only grass.) So, for THE LION AND THE MOUSE he left lots of white space and this year he won. His illustrations are amazing.

By the way, Amazon has amazing prices on the winner and two runners up. The winner is eight bucks instead of seventeen. ALL THE WORLD is $10.52 and RED SINGS FROM TREETOPS is $9.35, (They are not called runners up but I can't think of what they are called.) I guessed two of the three right, my other choice was Tsunami. And my fourth favorite was THE CURIOUS GARDEN.

This is Jerry's studio. Amazing. His web site here.

PS If you are reading this, basking in the sun, do. not. tell. me. I'm not bitter or anything.

NOTHING TO SAY SO HERE'S SOME PHOTOS

I opened this post, not having a clue what to write. I did write on the Losing It blog but this one has been much neglected. How about a picture or two. That's better than nothing, huh? A couple of week's ago the water behind Deer Creek Dam was not frozen. This week there are fishermen out there in their little huts. Are they nuts? Two weeks ago...not frozen. This week, a possibility of falling through the ice.

These are taken in Provo Canyon.

That's it, that's all I have.

Hope you are having a great evening or morning or whatever.

Just think, Lovely Lady Spring is on it's way. That is, unless you live in the southern hemisphere and then, here it comes. Old Man Winter!

Sorry.

NO EMPTY CHAIRS

Today Hillary and the girls came for a visit. We didn't do anything outstanding, just visited and I fixed them "Toad in the hole" for dinner. I know, a horrible name and a breakfast food to boot. I loved having them here. They are mine and I am theirs.

When they left I thought, There goes my life. Then I thought, Phil and the other kids and grandkids are my life, too. And then I thought Heavenly father and Jesus are my life too, they were my life first. They are the reason I'm here, with this family that I love so much. They make it all possible.

Standing there in the doorway, waving to them I had the distinct impression--almost words in my mind from Heavenly Father: "Without every one of you my family will be incomplete." It was so strong, this impression, that I told Phil about it. And then I told Hillary, when she called to say she was home. I don't know if either of them understood the significance of what I heard. It IS significant. Each is valuable, wanted and all will be wrong if even one doesn't make it back.

Before my last child was born--she was a late arrival--I was 42--I had no idea she was coming and yet, sometimes, when setting the table I took one too many plates and had to put one back. This happened so often that I deliberately tried to take just the right number but often, there it was, an extra plate. I knew, somehow that the family wasn't complete yet. And now it is. My earthly family.

Take of it what you will. I think "my" thoughts earlier were right. Without every single one of us, there will be a hole in our Heavenly eternal family. And incompleteness. Empty chairs.

Let's have no empty chairs.

PREPARING TO BE CARRIED OFF BY ALIENS

Today we were at "Beam Ray." A man came in and sat down beside me. He announced that he had a bag of peanuts and was anyone allergic to peanuts? No one was so he kept the bag with him. His hair had been combed with an egg beater. He smelled interesting. Garlicky. Spicy. Fried Foodish. Stale.

I didn't know what to do. I didn't want to get up and leave so I stayed where I was. I made small talk. Asked him about his book, which was a Louis L'Amour (I read about twenty of them in the eighties). I tried not to look at him directly in case there were food bits in his facial hair. Not a beard or a moustache, just leftover facial hair. After a minute or two he settled down to read his book and I settled down to shallow breathing.

After we left I said to Phil, "Did you smell that man sitting next to me?"

"Yah," Phil said. "Whatever food he had in his bag smelled good! I wonder if it was a sandwich, maybe from a deli."

"It wasn't food. Phil."

"It wasn't? Well what was...." and then it hit him. "You mean? Oh, I'm so sorry."

And so was I. And then I decided to see the silver lining. If I ever need to pretend I'm dead I am totally prepared--like if an alien invasion happens, and tentacled invaders slither into my home, in search of live people to take back to their planet to clean their bathrooms and cook slime-worms. They will assume I'm dead because I have the shallow breathing perfected. You couldn't see my chest rise and fall unless you used a magnifying glass. In fact I may be brain damaged from oxygen deprivation from today's shallow breathing simulation--in which case I probably wouldn't mind being the slave of tentacled aliens and cooking their slime-worms. And besides that, someone who sits in front of something called a "Beam Ray" would probably fit right in on an alien planet.

And then tonight we went to the New Testament class. It was a marvelous lesson, Brother Welch knows things about translation from the original Greek that make sense of things I didn't even know that I didn't know. About halfway through the class I smelled something. It was spicy, garlicky, in a fried foodish sort of way. I looked around, slyly. I didn't see anyone whose hair had been combed with an egg beater but I sure did smell fried food. Then I wondered, maybe there is a conspiracy afoot. Maybe the paranoid fairies are just messing with my mind. Or maybe I'm supposed to be more tolerant of egg-beaterish-haired people and well dressed, shower-every-morning people, too.

So, either way, today's experience was a good thing. Wasn't it? Unless Spicy-Food-Smell-Facial-Hair and Someone-Who-Showers-every-morning-like-clockwork reads this blog. Which they won't. Unless Murphy's Law is working overtime. And that never happens in real life, does it?

WEASEL FIGHTS AND CREAKING DOORS, OH MY!

Last night I fixed Elizabeth a sandwich--late--probably ten o'clock. (That's because I'm such a nice Mom.) Phil was sitting at the table eating graham crackers and rice milk. I stuffed a piece of salami in my mouth, I figured it was worth whatever points it had. (Obviously I still haven't figured points out yet.)

"What are you eating?" Phil asked.

"Pepperoni."

"Did you eat it all?"

You should know something about skinny Phil. He eats whatever he wants, whenever he wants. He eats with everybody. If someone is eating he will find out what they are eating, and sit down to have some, too. So, naturally he ate the rest of the salami. Graham crackers and rice milk and salami. A great combination.

He went to bed.

I went to bed a couple of hours later. In the middle of the night I woke up because there was a weasel fight outside our bedroom window. We sleep with the window open and so we hear lots of things in the middle of the night, but I've never heard a weasel fight before. In fact I've never even seen a weasel. But I knew, for sure, that I was hearing a knock-down, winner-take-all, weasel fight.

Then I listened closer and the weasel fight had a rhythm. Squeal, wheeze, pause, pause. Squeal, wheeze, pause, pause. It was Phil. I jumped gently on the bed, he turned over and silence reigned.

Elizabeth always goes to bed several hours after I do--she has insomnia. I heard her open the bathroom door. Screech. And then she closed the bathroom door. Screech. And then she opened the bathroom door. Screech. And closed it. And then I remembered that the bathroom door doesn't screech. It was Phil. I jumped, gently, on the bed twice, he turned over and there was silence.

Twice more I was awakened to bizarre noises but because I'm somewhat of quick learner I realized it was just Phil. I jumped on the bed a few times. Silence.

So, if you too want to be awakened to interesting nighttime activities just let your husband eat a bunch of odd food before bed. You will be amused and even get some jumping-on-the-bed exercise. It's a twofer.

UNBELIEVALBE WHAT SOME PEOPLE WILL DO

You won't believe what we saw today. We hardly believe it ourselves.

Phil and I have been sitting in front of a "Beam Ray," on and off for several weeks. (Originally developed by Royal Rife--as in the "Rife machine.") The Beam Ray helps the body fight off bacteria, viruses, even cancer. We took two weeks off for Christmas and at the end of the two weeks I got sick.

Today when we got there the room was full of interesting people. One woman had on white stretchy pants that were really form fitting. I tried not to look at her and was kind of embarrassed. She had to drive her husband somewhere and before she left she put her pants on! She came back in about a half hour and, as can be expected, took her pants right off. The white stretchy pants were her thermal underwear. I guess we should be glad she left the rest of her clothes on.
Is it just us or is this totally weird? And inappropriate? And embarrassing? And, like I said before, plain and simple, weird.

DO IT!

Today someone called me. They were worried, crying even. I wanted to say something to reassure them. I don't think I helped much. Maybe this will. It came in my email box from Tut, today.

"Now, I have to admit that among inventions, the "Undo" button is right up there with the very greatest of all time, but it'll never compare to the "Do" button, from which worlds are born.

"Lynne, this is your chance!

"2010, Baby - The Universe

"Plus, Lynne, even while some things can't be undone, you can ALWAYS start anew. "



And so it is. Failed at the diet. Start again. Failed at the exercise program. Start again (or even just start, Lynne).

Have no prospect for a full, successful life? Or don't like the one you do have? Sit down with someone wise and devise a plan and then start.

Have anything in your life that you are disgusted/disappointed with/sad about? Do a do-over.

President Spencer W. Kimball had a little sign on his desk: "Do it!"

We can and we should.

WE DID IT

We started our "Losing it--if not the weight, then our minds" blog. No one will want to read it because it will be boring, but it's to help keep us accountable.

Tonight I got that strange pain in my armpit again. I was scared out of my mind for and thought, I didn't change my diet quick enough and I'm going to die--again! Not that I actually died the first time but I thought I was going to. But the pain went away after about five minutes so maybe, just maybe I'm not too late.

Pam will be there, daily, hourly, if I need her--she's that kind of a girl--to encourage me, to keep me on track. It's good to have a cohort in this business of changing my life for the better.

I met Pam when I was assigned to be her visiting teacher. I went alone the first month because my partner was a young mother and couldn't get away. I was glad because I got to meet Pam alone and we both knew we would be friends. (For those who are Mormon you are probably wondering why I didn't already know Pam, if I was in her ward. That is because 24 years earlier they had split our ward and then, wonder of wonder, they put us back together. Anyway, Pam wasn't in the original ward, she had moved in just a few years earlier so I didn't know her from before. Is this confusing enough?)

So, blog number four. Not that "Walking in Starlight" ever gets written on and not that the Cookbook gets written on much.

So, what things are new with you?

LOSING IT--IF NOT THE WEIGHT, OUR MINDS

That is the title of the blog a friend and I want to start but neither one knows how to start one where two people can post. In fact, I can't even figure out how to start a new one, period. I'm blaming being sick with a cold on my stupidity but in fact, I may just be stupid. I've figured out how to start blogs three times before, so what's up? If you say something about a "senior moment" I will never speak to you again. I mean it.

We've joined Weight Watchers. We're hungry. I think I only used 18 of my points today because suffering (not silently) with the drippy, sneezy cold, fixing dinner was beyond me. I wanted someone to cater to me. Half a can of chili was as close as it got.

Here's a place where you can see the point value of foods. I've made the link red in honor of the "no points" value of the grape tomatoes I bought at Buy Low today--three pounds for $1.29. I think if you ate three pounds of tomatoes there should be some points, don't you? There's a flaw somewhere there.

I ate 8 or 12 tomatoes--I can't remember which--and I dunked them in ranch dressing--the full fat kind--mixed with apple cider vinegar. I'm still puckering.

Anyway, if you are a member of Weight Watchers send ideas for things to eat. Send web sites with recipes. I don't know how often I can eat chili and tomatoes dunked in puckery stuff.

PS You know that scale at the top of this post? That's our STARTING weight. Hahahahaha. (A little diet humor. We're laughing to keep from crying.)

IT DOESN'T TAKE MUCH

Lately I've felt like a lowly little petunia in an onion patch. A half hour ago someone smiled and joked with me. I feel better now. Such a little thing but it holds such power.

I hope someone smiles and jokes with you today. If not, I hope you will be the smiler and jokster because there is a lot of fear and hurt going around and you can make a difference.

THE SENILITY PRAYER

This came in a forwarded email today and I thought it might give you a chuckle.

THE SENILITY PRAYER

Grant me the senility to forget the people I never liked anyway,

The good fortune to run into the ones I do, and

The eyesight to tell the difference.

ANGELS ATTEND ME

I haven't blogged in a long time. I haven't even looked at my dashboard so I don't know who else has blogged. I have been in a funk. Maybe it's the time of year. Maybe it's circumstances I'm dealing with. Maybe I am just so tired of this life, so tired of the struggle, the drama, the uncertainty that I didn't want it to rub off on anyone else.

I've been desperate for relief. My sister and brother-in-law gave me a blue light to help with the depression. I have sat in front of it three or four times in the morning. Today two angels came to my rescue. Colette and my daughter-in-law, Sharee.

Colette called me on the phone and we talked for a l-o-n-g time. She was concerned because I haven't blogged. I have never met Colette in real life. We email and I follow her blog. She has a kind and generous heart, not to mention a beautiful voice.

Sharee came over and did Reiki on me, bringing some relief. As much relief as the Rieki was the talk, she spent as much time as I needed. She reassured me and loved me and told me something that took a big chunk of my stress away. Angels, both of them, worrying about me, loving me, helping me.

I believe we are never actually alone. I believe we are always attended by someone, family, that has passed on. I really do believe this. I think Mom was here with me today (oh, how I miss my momma), but I can't crawl up on her lap like I did when I was five and tell her my worries and about my hurts. (For one thing, if she weren't dead already, my sitting on her lap would probably kill her. A little depression humor for ya'.) I would love to hear her say words of comfort and maybe even a timeline like, "This worry will be resolved in February, that one will be resolved in March." I don't know if our relatives have that information but if they did it would be so joyful to have a little reassurance.

Our last prophet, President Hinckley used to say something that everyone loved. He said, "Everything is going to be all right." He said this over and over. He was optimistic but he also had knowledge we don't. He said it, I believed it and yet what's the matter with me that I don't believe it enough to be comforted?

So, I'm blogging to just say I'm here. Healthy, except for the bad food I've practically inhaled over the holidays. I'm breathing in and out. I'm trying to be "up." Usually I can see the funny side of life and this will probably be funny, too, in a year.

I have a list I keep at the bottom of my personal history file. I call it: HOW TO COMBAT STRESS/DEPRESSION/HEARTACHE

I have 28 items on that list--or maybe 27 as I seem to have prayer listed twice. Tonight I am going to start with one of them and work my way through. I'm going to start with number 15: Journaling. Write the worst of it down. This is not necessarily a journal you will want anyone to ever read. There is something about writing it out that helps. It’s better if it’s hand written, there is something about physically moving the pen on paper that helps get rid of the fear, depression, sadness, etc. I’m not saying it’s foolproof but it does help.

And before that list are some quotes I've saved. These seem to be meant for me tonight. And Colette and Sharee were meant for me too. I honor both of them and am thankful they are in my life.

1. Be thankful that sometimes God lets you struggle for a long time before that answer comes. Your character will grow; your faith will increase. Richard G. Scott, “Using the Supernal Gift of Prayer,” Ensign, May 2007, 9 (Don't tell, but Elder Scott is my favorite apostle. I have loved every conference talk he has ever given, and when I see him I feel loved, even though I am watching him on TV.)

2. We should honor the Savior’s declaration to “be of good cheer.” Matthew 14:27; Mark 6:50; John 16:33. Jeffrey R. Holland, “The Tongue of Angels,” Ensign, May 2007, 18

3. This is my prayer for all of us. 'Lord, increase our faith.' Increase our faith to bridge the chasms of uncertainty and doubt. . . . Grant us faith to look beyond the problems of the moment to the miracles of the future. . . . Give us faith to do what is right and let the consequence follow. President Gordon B. Hinckley Panama City Panama Fireside, January 20, 1997.

So, I've got to hurry and journal all my worries because I need to get to bed at some kind of a reasonable hour because church starts at 9:00 am, as opposed to last year when it started at 1:00. That's enough to depress a night owl like me, isn't it? Wouldn't it be nice if that were all that's wrong with me?!