On Race and Love

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Friday I lathered up that sunblock, put on my trusty swimsuit and made out for the splash pad with my husband and my 18 month old niece in tow.  It was a scorching afternoon, with temperatures passing one hundred degrees and not a drop of moisture in sight.  The house wouldn't cool down below eighty, doing anything outside sounded miserable, and our energy was all but zapped to pieces.  So we headed for the splash pad.  A little more than just hosing off in the backyard, but not quite a full on swimming pool, the splash pad seemed the perfect compromise.

Is there anything in the world cuter than a baby's bum?

I just finished reading The Help and I've been following the Treyvon Martin case with interest so I suppose complicated and confusing ideas about race were swirling around somewhere in my head when I saw these two little guys running around the splash pad together.

I don't know all the answers about the tough stuff in life.  I don't know if the verdict on the Treyvon Martin case was correct or not.  I don't know if it was all a big misunderstanding or if it was a hate crime against a minority.  I know none of that.

I do know that all of us adults sit all day long and talk until we're blue in the face.  We argue our side, we get political, we listen to endless news stories about a case like this.  We call it hate, we call it murder, we attack those on the opposing side.  And in the meantime a black and a white kid are just holding hands, running around the water park.  They don't notice the color of the skin.  Why in the world would that even matter?One of my favorite scriptures in the Book of Mormon states that to be saved we must become, "as a child- submissive, meek, humble, patient, full of love."  Isn't it weird that those who are the youngest are the best at showing love and understanding?

I felt so much hope for our world when I saw these kids.  To steal a quote from Raven, they know nothing of " hatred, intolerance, racism, bigotry, indoctrination, homophobia, racism and prejudice."  These things are taught to them.  Here's hoping we will be a little less quick to teach them these things.  Here's hope that my children will be more understanding, open minded, and full of love and tolerance than anyone I've met before.

It's someone's birthday...!

Today is this boy's birthday.  He's turning the big 25 and if that ain't a reason to go buck wild with celebration, I don't know what is anymore!

One of the difficulties of language is that it is sometimes incapable of describing the depths of our emotions.  There are not always words to convey feelings.  How can simple words explain everything this boy means to me?

But I'll try.

Greg is my rock that is always constant and that I can trust with anything, who I know would never lie, would always do what is right.

He is my best friend who jokes and does accents and crazy voices and makes me laugh until my tummy hurts.

He is my teacher who corrects me when I'm acting like a brat who shows me how to treat people you love who is kind and loving even when someone doesn't deserve it who even taught me to love dogs.

He is my support who goes along with any crazy scheme I might have who encourages me to write and blog and teach crazy seventeen year olds and do anything my little heart desires.

He is my playmate who goes fishing with me and takes me to the water park and plays a hundred and one board games with me because he knows I love games.

He is my provider who makes future plans with me who yearns for a house full of babies who sacrifices his own wants and dreams for a stable career field and a family of our own.

He is my lover who scratches my back and tells me I'm beautiful and kisses me softly and promises to grow old with me.

He is my favorite travel partner who bikes around Paris with me and jumps off rocks with me in Mexico and even hikes a waterfall with me in Hawaii.

He is my intellectual partner who analyzes books and movies with me and listens and approves my teaching ideas and shares my passion for Shakespeare.

He is my spiritual giant who shows me what it really means to have a love of God and fellow men, who has the biggest heart of any man I've ever known, who would give the shirt off his back for someone in need.

He is my everything.



Happy Birthday, love!

Peace

I think we can all agree that it is difficult to make sense of the shooting on Friday.  I have struggled to find answers.  Human tendency is to seek for something or someone to blame.  Immediately.  There must be fault.  The school security wasn't good enough.  The killer didn't get mental help when he needed it.  There's too much violence in video games.  Gun laws need to be stricter.  We need a solution NOW.

I guess I feel like this is probably part of the grieving process- a desperate attempt to find fault and then to try to immediately work out solutions.  I don't know what the solutions are, but I know they will take time.  Healing is a slow process and the only real healer of tragedy is time.  Lots and lots of time.

And so, I am trying my best to not think of the countless things that must have gone wrong in order to lead up to such a horrific event.  Trying hard to not blame here and not blame there, but instead to just find some sort of peace in the wake of the tragedy.  I am praying for the families of the victims.  Praying that they will feel the love of the entire nation, that they will feel our tears and our hugs and our support, that they will feel peace and eventually acceptance and someday, maybe someday, even forgiveness.

I have heard several remarks that the tragedy is worsened by the fact that it happened around Christmas.  I agree with this and I disagree with this.  Certainly the pang of loss will be felt more sharply on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.  Of course.  But hopefully those missing their loved ones so desperately will be comforted during this special time, even moreso than they would be able to during another time of the year.  I pray that they will be able to feel that special spirit of Christmas, and that it can be used as an extra dosage of comfort.  I pray that they can feel God's love an extra amount and understand more fully the miracle that Christ's birth was and is.  I pray that they will feel extra love, extra peace, extra closeness to a loving Heavenly Father.

I went to church yesterday not thinking about pants at all, like I had originally thought I would, but instead hoping to make some sense of the tragedy.  The answer to my prayers came in the form of my sister, who is visiting from California for the week.  She shared with the class that she had found comfort in the third and fourth verse of "I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day."  They are so beautiful and so fitting.

And in despair I bowed my head:

"There is no peace on earth," I said,

"For hate is strong and mocks the song

Of peace on earth, good will to men."

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:

"God is not dead, nor doth he sleep;

The wrong shall fail, the right prevail,

With peace on earth, good will to men."

To end the meeting, we sang one of my favorite hymns, "Be Still My Soul."  Again, I found the lyrics to be so fitting.

(Third and Fourth Verse)

Be still, my soul: when dearest friends depart,

And all is darkened in the vale of tears,

Then shalt thou better know His love, His heart,

Who comes to soothe thy sorrow and thy fears.

Be still, my soul: thy Jesus can repay

From His own fullness all He takes away.

Be still, my soul: the hour is hastening on

When we shall be forever with the Lord.

When disappointment, grief and fear are gone,

Sorrow forgot, love’s purest joys restored.

Be still, my soul: when change and tears are past

All safe and blessèd we shall meet at last.

I don't know what the answers are, but I do know that the Lord is over all.  I know they He will "repay" that which He has "taken away."  I believe in justice and I believe in mercy.  I believe in hope and love and charity and kindness- even in the midst of such tragedy.  I believe in a day when tears are past.

Somehow in the midst of this terrible event, I have felt incredible peace.  My wish is that all you may feel the same.

P.S.  I will be participating in this tomorrow- a blogger day of silence.

If I Ran the World

This weekend I was climbing into bed when I realized my cell phone charger wasn't plugged into the wall.  My phone was totally dead and wouldn't last more than a few minutes into the next day.  I was utterly exhausted, literally crawling into the bed, and the last thing I wanted to do was go upstairs and look for a dang charger.  I cursed myself for taking the charger out of the wall, I cursed the cell phone for needing charging, and most of all, I cursed the world for inventing such a thing as cell phones.

Basically there was a lot of cursing.

I trudged up the stairs, grabbed the charger, and then slumped my way back down to bed.  I couldn't help but think as I did this, "Who's in charge of this hooplah anyway?  Who decided that cell phones needed recharging?  Certainly if I ran the world cell phones would recharge themselves!  Yes, genius!  Cell phones that recharge on their own!

My thoughts got carried away as I laid in bed.  Hubs says I like to be in control, but if I'm going to be honest with you I might as well just say that it is my ultimate dream to be in charge of everything in the world.  Can you imagine?  What could I do if I ran the world?  What vast improvements could I make to my life and to the lives of those around me?  My mind ran away with me and because I'm the type of person who likes to share, here you go, folks.

IF I RAN THE WORLD:

Cell phones would never need recharging.

I would be very very good at all sports, but especially volleyball.  An Olympic volleyball player, if you will.

When babies needed something, they wouldn't cry.  They would laugh.

There would be no bad smells in the world. Seriously, what is the point of yucky smells anyway?  No garbage, no bathrooms and no MORNING BREATH!

It would be free to fly in airplanes.  Anybody could fly anywhere they wanted in the world provided they do a certain amount of community service each year.  I think I might need to think about this one a bit longer... it has some potential flaws.

Oh, I know!  Everybody can fly.  As in, their arms turn into wings and they can fly wherever they want.  That way we can scrap the community service.  Ignore the above comment.

Summer is year round.

Any car that is seen in the left lane going slower than the cars to its right will receive a citation immediately.  If you are in the left lane you absolutely MUST be going faster than all the other cars around you, no exceptions, no excuses.

It is illegal to start any activity before 9:00 am.  That means that my School District can no longer require me to be at work at 7 am.  Are you listening, school district?!?  No more 7:00 am starting time!

All food, regardless of content, makes you feel energized and healthy.  All food has the same amount of nutrients (lots!) and calories (very little!) but tastes totally different.  This means I can eat ice cream and cake for dinner, but it does the exact same thing for my body as a plate of fruits and veggies do!  HALLELUJAH!

No one says mean things to any one else.

There is not an age where you are supposed to "grow up"  and put away childish things.  Everybody can be silly all the want.  You can stay out all night no matter what your age.  You can dye your hair pink and no one thinks anything of it.  You can prank call for your entire life.

Everybody has to play the game "Risk" at least once a day.

Every profession would make the same amount of money.  Teachers wouldn't be broke.

No apartment complex would have income restrictions.  Anyone who wants to live in a nice place could live there, no matter how much they make.  No more punishing people for making "too much" money when really they're just scraping by like the rest of the world.

Every month the Kardashians have to give away all their clothes and jewelry to the less fortunate.  I will be in charge of distributing these clothes out and for payment I get to keep 5% of what they give away.

Everyone has perfect skin, teeth, and hair.

Couples would die at the exact same time so that one would not be forced to live without their spouse.

Mosquitoes, flies, and spiders of any kind do not exist.

Everybody finds a person they can spend their whole life with who makes them really, ridiculously happy.  You know, like a Jef Holm/Emily Maynard kind of love.  Or a Bon Bon/Hubs kind of love.  Everyone has lots of friends and family who will take care of them and love them no matter what.

That's what the world would be like if I ran it.  What do you think?  Vote for me?

I am going to make this into a link up party.  I have never before done this in my life, and if I'm being honest with you, I'm terrified.  I guess I feel a little bit like the awkward teenager who wants to throw a party but is almost positive that the only people who will show up are the best friend and the nerdy Calculus partner.  If you want to join this link up party out of pure pity, I am not opposed.  I guess I need all the friends I can get around here.  This could be my first and last link up party.

Yah, I'm scared.

But here goes because a girl's got to participate in some link ups at some point in her life, right?  RIGHT?!?  If you would like to come to my link up, please do!  You are totally invited.  All you've got to do is post this little weird picture of me looking like an alien on your blog (Is that how we do it?  Someone help me, PLEASE?!?) and then link up your own, "If I ran the world" post.  I can't wait to read all about what you would do.  You can be as creative as you want- you have all the power and the world is yours, afterall!

When you've got the blues

Last night I was sad.
And maybe a little crazy.

I don't really know what triggered it, I just felt sad.
And maybe a little crazy.

I had a regular day at school, nothing out of the ordinary, came home, ate some chips and dip, watched tv, and just felt really sad.

Sometimes, very out of the blue, waves of grief will wash over me and I'll miss my dad so much that I can hardly breathe. He's been gone for over two years, but it is amazing to me how stinging that pain can still be sometimes.  Out of nowhere it arrives at my door, knocks me off my feet, and leaves me reeling in its wake.  It showed up on Sunday and stayed with me all the way into yesterday evening.

Last night Hubs wanted to stay in, cuddle up, and watch Supernatural.  But I wanted to go out and do something. Anything.  Bowling, mini-golf, ice cream, I didn't care, I just wanted to do something. Hubs begged to stay inside and I begged to go out.

And I felt really sad.  And a little bit crazy.

Suddenly everything seemed very bleak.  Missing my dad morphed into missing countless people, relationships, and stages in my life that have passed. I missed my sister in Argentina and yearned for her to be home.  The sorrow seemed to be skidding quickly out of control, and I didn't know how to curb it.  It transferred itself from a longing for the past to a certainty that me and Hubs are an awful match.  The little devil in my head told me that Hubs and I were never going to enjoy doing the same things. That we had none of the same interests. That he'd always prefer staying in and taking it easy, and I'd always prefer being out and about, doing high energy activities. And then that devious little devil of mine told me that one of us was always going to be unhappy trying to make the other happy.

Finally I decided that I needed to go for a run. I hate any form of exercise just as much as the next gal, but when I've got a serious case of the blues, it's my infallible cure-all.

The running did things for me that only strenuous exercise can.  It breathed life into my body, invigorated me, and purged so much of my negativity.  I thought, I meditated, and I prayed.  My head was cleared.

When I came home almost an hour later, Hubs seemed a little concerned.
"Everything okay, Bon?" 
"Yah... I'm just kinda trying to figure things out."
"Figure things out?" The poor boy was confused.  You got to admit, my answer was somewhat cryptic.
"You know... just kind of sorting through some things..." 
And as much as I was trying to hide back the tears, Hubs, with his tenderness and sensitivity, could tell I was on the verge of crying.  His face softened, his arms stretched out toward me, and he whispered, "Come here, Bon, it's okay..."
So I crawled into his welcoming arms.  And I cried. 
"Bon. What in the world do you have to be crying about?"
"I don't know." I answered.  Because I didn't. I really didn't know.  Sometimes you are just sad and you have no real reason to be sad, but you are.
"Babe, I love you so much.  You've got nothing to cry about."
"I guess I just miss my dad."
Hubs was silent and stroked my hair.
"And I guess I just think we're never going to enjoy the same thing and I'm just going to drive you crazy with my energy..."
Hubs laughed, a soft gentle laugh. "Oh, Bon, please, we're perfect for each other...Everything is okay."

And so he hugged me and he hugged me and he told me that everything was ok. 
And then, somehow, everything was ok.  Hubs sat me up on the couch, tucked the blanket around me, and cooked up some chicken and mashed potatoes for dinner.

Even after 25 years, I don't fully understand my emotions.  Sometimes I am convinced that all girls are straight up crazy, and that I am the leader of the pack.  I don't understand my emotional rollercoaster or occasional mood swings or sudden waves of sorrow or doubt or fear.

But I do know that when Hubs says "Everything is okay," he means it.
 
And I know that I'm so grateful for Hubs and his way of knowing what I need. So grateful for all the rich relationships in my life that mean so much to me. So grateful for the people that make me who I am and bring happiness into my life, whether they are a part of my life now, or a part of my life in the past. Whether they are in Utah, or in Argentina, or in heaven, I'm so grateful to have them.

So blessed because of the people in my life.

I ask you to forgive me for my emotional/insecure/doubtful rant. Afterall, I'm just a girl, and I guess as part of my membership of that gender, I am entitled to have these moments from time to time.

Plus.
I'm still cramping up a storm.

And it never hurts to blame your craziness on that.

Some of the most important people in my life. 
My family- siblings, siblings' husbands, and kids.
They're the best.
Also the biggest :)

My friends. We were made for each other.

My old man.
Miss him.

Hubs.
Love him.

Six Days... and why I love my sister

Hubs and I are six days away from our one year wedding anniversary.

I'm a big date person.  Not only do I remember important dates in my life, I remember everything that was happening on the days surrounding those big dates.  A year ago today, six days before I was to don the white dress, was my wedding breaking point.  It was a Sunday and I was absolutely certain I would not live to see Saturday- the day of the ceremony.  Hubs was working that day, picking up extra shifts at Olive Garden, and I was desperately trying to survive six more days of wedding madness.  Some people take being engaged quite well.  I, however, handled it like a mad ape.  It was too much stress, too many decisions, and too much tension.  Our engagement was a mere 11 weeks, but looking back I realize it was 11 weeks too many for this girl.

On that Sunday afternoon, steeped in stress and worries that only a six-day-away-bride can imagine, I realized I was not going to be able to get everything done at work in order to take a week off for the honeymoon.  I was a first year teacher, and blindly, stupidly, I had picked up an extra class in January- taking with it half of my preparation time.  I thought I needed the money.  Now I realize I needed my sanity more.

I was supposed to take home a big stack of papers to grade that weekend.  Friday night I realized I had forgotten the papers.  I considered making a run to the school.  (I commute 40 miles to work) But I just couldn't stand to drive 50 minutes up to my school to pick up the papers and 50 minutes back.  Not on my last weekend before the wedding.  No.  Please no.

Instead, I ran schedules in my head.  Would I be able to find time to grade those papers on top of working  40 hours, enduring my last stake president's interview, attending a bridal shower, finalizing dress adjustments, greeting out of town guests, making the music playlist, packing for the honeymoon, leaving sub plans for a week, etc, ETC, ETC, ETC?!?!? 

Somehow I convinced myself on that Friday that I would be able to do it all during the upcoming week.   So dumb.  So naive.  Sunday, smack dab in the middle of church, I changed my mind.  I could see the next six days laid out before me and they were going to be absolute hell.  In a frantic fit of madness, I bailed out of church early and made an emergency phone call to the person I knew would answer.

Mary.  My little sis.


She's the bomb.  And I miss her like crazy.  She's preaching the good word down South in Argy. 
Only one more year left until I see her again!

 "I have to drive up to the school.  Will you come with me?"

There were no questions.  No doubts.  No "On a Sunday afternoon?  You crazy girl!"

Instead, she said, without a second of delay, "Sure.  Come pick me up."

The instant I pulled up to the house, Mary came bounding out.  She thrust open the door, snapped on that seat belt, and with an ear to ear grin exclaimed, "Let's go!"

Sometimes overly enthusiasitc people bother me.  I feel like they need to take it down a notch and come to earth where the rest of us trudge on in daily monotony.  But not that day.  That day I needed Mary's enthusiasm, her excitement, her willingness to drive two hours with me on the middle of a Sunday afternoon.

It was pouring rain outside, and as soon as we got on the road I nearly exploded to my little sister.  Every care, every worry, every stress that was hoarded up, beating up on my overworked brain came spilling out in waves.  I talked fast and I talked carelessly, and as I did tears streamed down my face.  I wasn't unhappy, I was just stressed.  And worried.  So so worried.  I was worried people would get offended at the wedding. (They did.) I was worried someone would say something ridiculous and inappropriate at the wedding. (They did.) I was worried the sound system, the technology, the video projector wouldn't work. (It didn't.)  I was worried people would be late (They were.)  My dad had died barely a year earlier.  Of all the worries, the most pressing, most porminent was the worry that it wouldn't be a happy day without him.  I was worried it would be hard for me, hard for my mom, hard for all involved. Instead of a day seeping happiness, I worried the day would be heavy with sorrow.

I drove at 80 mph, splashing water all over the freeway, speaking furiously, my worries and stress boiling out of me.  Mary just listened, uttering not a word.  Sometimes you need people not to say a dang thing back to you, and instead just nod and say "uh-uh" and "oh" and nod again.  Mary did that.

We arrived at the school in record time.  In the pouring rain we ran to the back door closest to my classroom. 

Tragedy.  My card wouldn't work.  The door didn't budge.  I panicked.

We ran to the next door.  My card wouldn't work.  The door didn't budge.  The panic grew.

We ran to the next door.  And the next.  And the next.  Not one door to the school would open (I found out weeks later that they had recoded the school doors and my card had not been updated.)

I was devastated.  Past the point of tears, past the point of screams, past the point of fits of rage and stress, I turned from the last door and said quietly to Mary, "Alright, let's go."

The first five minutes of the drive, neither of us spoke.  There was a chilling silence.  Then, Mary spoke.  I suppose it was her turn to talk.  Because I was too numb to care any more and miles past my breaking point, Mary took over the reins.  She told me about her most recent horrific date, "It's not that I mind the dollar theatre and Beto's that much, it's just that he had taken me on that exact same date a week ago.  If you're going to be cheap at least be creative about it!"  And her most recent heartbreak "He had left his computer open, and I saw an email he wrote to his little brother stating that although he had kissed me, he didn't like me that much and was doing it just because he was bored."  She told me about her worries about serving a mission "What if I can't learn the language?  What if I hate my companion?  What if every cute boy gets married while I'm gone?"  Mary didn't let me get a word in edgewise, no, now it was her turn to talk.

She talked and talked and I listened and then I started to laugh and then we were both laughing and the stress that had covered every last inch of my body slowly began to melt away.  The rain didn't let up and the birds didn't come out to sing, but something was lifted from me.  A burden, a stress, a great weight.  I relished the car ride home, and when we returned to the house, my mom had dinner ready and wondered where in the world the two of us had disappeared to on a rainy Sunday afternoon.

One year later I am so grateful for a little sister and her two hours of unselfish time she gave to me.  I guess she was a savior to me that day, although she never knew.

That's what I was doing a year ago today.  How about you?

Mary was so mad when I made her pose for this picture in a dress. 
But she went along with it just to humor me. 
Ain't that a good little sis?

Got Valentine's Plans?

Well, well, well, what do you know?  Look what's right around the corner!  By golly, it's Valentine's Day  breathing down our dainty little necks!

Can you believe it's only a week away?!?  Naturally, being a girl, I have already given the big love day a lot of thought. My mind has been on overload contemplating all the great things we could do with our romantic day together:

Sexy massages?

Romantic dinner?

Cuddle fest?

Flowers and chocolate?

Dirty Dancing?

Oh my, the mind was a-ticking, yes, because the big day is a-coming!

Luckily, I've been married to Hubs long enough to know that we are not always on the same page as far as holidays go.  As in... he doesn't know they exist.  So, I figured I better bring up old St. Valentine just to make sure that even if the day wasn't first and foremost in his mind, it was at least floating around somewhere up there with the thousands of memorized lines, countless homework assignments, and his ever-present fear of zombie apocalypses.

I brought it up slyly, like I always do.  I'm telling you, it's not easy being such a sly wife, but I do it without sweating a drop. 

"Hubs... I was thinking maybe we should get our Valentine's Day plans going."

"Ok... is that coming up?"

(See what I'm talking about here?) "Yah... yah, it is." I replied,  "Would you want to go out to dinner or should we maybe stay in and make a romantic dinner?"

Hubs was brainstorming.  I coud see those little wheels in his head a-turning, "When is it?  The 21st?"

Point.  Proven.  You've got to REMIND these boys that Valentine's Day is coming up or else the whole holiday will blow right over and they won't even know they missed the big day!  And then when you are left all by yourself on Valentine's flowerless, chocolateless, and dinnerless you've got no one to blame but yourself!  (It also never hurts to remind your man that your birthday is coming... or your anniversary... or Christmas...)

A recent lunch in the faculty room reinforced this belief.  My favorite cute little French teacher was talking of her tentative V-day plans with her boyfriend.  Said boyfriend has not told French teacher of their plans yet.  Said French teacher is worried about it.  What if he has forgotten?  What if he is not planning anything?  What if he has another girlfriend?  All are valid concerns for us sweet little girls just trying to get some plans with St. Valentine. 

I understand her pain.  I understand the pain of all girls just trying to lock down her man on V-day.  So I said to my favorite French teacher just like I say to anyone who reads this blog: 

Tell him everything you want for Valentine's Day and you will get everything you want for Valentine's Day.

But unless you tell him, you're not allowed to be upset when V-day is a bust.

Valentine's Day 2011- One month away from marriage and SO ready for it.
Don't we look so old and grown up now compared to that picture?

You can thank me later, gals. 

***I prefer to be thanked in chocolate caramels.***

Back to the Sizz

Friday night was spent at my favorite white trash ghetto steak restaurant.

Sizzler.

Say what you want about the Sizz, knock on it all you feel like (Hubs, I'm talking to you!), but that place is like heaven to me and I'll never change my mind, so don't even try to convince me otherwise!

My friend, Akasha, is visiting from out of town, and because we both worked at Sizzler many moons ago, we decided it was mandatory that we make a Sizz visit while she was here. We were treated like kings by old friends, ate half our food for free, and enjoyed every second of chowing down on that grisly, over cooked steak.

We even had some fantastic dinner entertainment.  We were priviliged to watch this going on throughout the entirety of our meal.

That, my friends, is a woman giving her boyfriend/husband/lover a neck and back massage.  Right smack in the middle of dinner.  Right smack in the middle of Sizzler. 

I'll tell you something about Sizz.  It never ceases to surprise you. 

What surprised me most, however, about our return to Sizzler was not the erotic dinner rub down.  No, what really shocked me was how much I... well... missed...Sizzler.

And then I got nostalgic.  Like... super nostalgic.  I remembered all the nights at Sizzler, the crazy games we'd play in the back, the countless tables that I served, the friends I made, the late hours, the busy weekends, the endless shifts.  And I wanted it back.  I wanted to return to what once was.  For one crazy minute, I missed that going-to-school-and-working-nights-at-a-restaurant stage of my life.  I missed it so much. (You can read more about my glamorous life working at Sizzler here and here.)

Here's the truth.  I have trouble leaving stages in my life.  It's hard for me to move on.  I attach myself too much to people, to places, to experiences.  When I first got to college I cried and cried because I wasn't ready to leave Price yet.  I had dreamt of geting out of that little town for years, and now that I was finally gone, I wanted that stage back.  When I came home from my mission, I yearned for my investigators, my areas, my time in Argentina.  I couldn't adjust to normal life, I wanted to go back to my mission stage.  Maybe that's why I took a little longer to get married than most... I just wanted to hold on to the single stage of life that I was in. 

AND...maybe, just maybe, it explains why I'm not chomping at the bit to have a baby just yet.  I like the stage of life I'm in with Hubs right now.  The married-with-no-children-do-whatever-we-want stage.

I realized, while sitting there admist deep fried shrimp and strawberry lemonade, that all stages must come to an end.  My single-student-Sizzler stage ended two years ago, and even though I miss it, it's good that it's over.  And now I have entered a new stage.  A married-working-stable stage.

I made a goal to myself on Friday night, while eating all you can eat soft serve ice cream and watching that strange man get a massage.  To enjoy each stage of life, and to love the stage that I am in.  No yearning for previous stages, no longing for upcoming stages, just loving where I'm at.  Because everything passes too quickly and things that happened to me five years ago seem like just yesterday, and before I know it all my children will be grown.  I'm 25, but I feel like I'm still 13, and tomorrow I'll be 50.  Everything changes so fast, and before you even realize what has happened, a whole section of your life is over.

And it really is true what they say, about one door closing and another one opening.  With every exiting stage of my life comes a new stage, prancing on, ready to be explored and discovered and enjoyed.  And there is beauty in every stage in life.  There is really no reason to mourn because there is always new beauty in life, something more to enjoy, something more to learn from, something more to love.

And that's what I discovered on Friday night while making a return to a ghetto steak house where I spent several years waiting tables and rolling silverware.

Pretty good revelation for a night at the Sizz, wouldn't you say?

Lessons at the Gyno

Every year I have an appointment with the ...*ahem*... lady doctor.  To make sure all my...*ahem*...lady parts are doing everything they are supposed to do.

Today was said...*ahem*... lady doctor appointment. 

I always get just a tad nervous before these appointments.  And by always I mean the two times in my life that I have ever been.  To calm my nerves in the waiting room, I looked for something to read.  Well, I'll tell you what, that place was hard up for some reading material so I resorted to the pamphlets on the wall.  My choices were "Menopause:  What you don't know you don't know," and "The infection question:  it's not always yeast."  This much I know for sure, whoever is writing the titles of their pamphlets needs to get paid less.  I opted for the menopause pamphlet.  You see, I always like to be prepared.  Sometimes things happens sooner than you'd think, people.

I didn't get far in my riveting read when they called me to the back, demanded to know my weight, and them told me to strip and put on a robe with the opening in the front.  They've got a lot of nerve.

The lady doctor came in.  She was asking me a bajillion questions.  I figure she did it to take my mind off the exam and I'll tell you what, it worked because I was so busy answering her relentless questions that I didn't have a second to think about what else was going on in the room.

"How was the wedding?"  "How's teaching?"  "Do you want to get pregnant?" "What does your husband do?" "Do the students mistake you for a student?" "Have you ever gone on an African safari?" I mean it.  This lady didn't let up.

Then she asked me, "So how is the marriage going?  Everything marital bliss?"  I considered briefly telling her that we had already divorced- just to see her squirm- but I decided instead to be a good girl.  "Yah, pretty much."

"Yep, that usually lasts about two years." She said with a complete straight face.  "Now, I'm going to give you this prescription for a year..."

We finished up and I took my prescription and free birth control and menopause pamphlet and headed on home.

I got to thinking on my drive.  About the whole marital bliss thing lasting two years.  Here's what bothers me about it.  I have gotten that remark, or a similar version of it, probably 100 times since I tied the knot.  "Oh, that will soon wear off and before you know it you'll be two people who live together and tolerate each other's bad smells." or  "Oh, you're probably just so in love right now, aren't you?  It doesn't last forever you know,"  or "After a few years you won't even be touching each other anymore, trust me."

Its not that I think me and Hubs have a better marriage than everyone else.  It's just that... I think everybody should have a better marriage than that. 

While my marriage has been a blast and I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world, it's no cake walk.  It's not like we've just been sitting on the couch kissing and eating ice cream.  We've had to struggle through things.  We don't always see eye to eye.  We're both strong willed people.  Sometimes we are selfish.  Sometimes we say things we don't know are hurtful.  Sometimes we just don't even really know how to be married.  But every month is easier.  Every month is more fun.  Because we understand each other more, we know how to treat the other person, we know how to talk to each other.  I guess what I'm trying to say is that it seems to me that each year of your marriage should be getting better, not worse.

Then I started thinking.  Maybe I'm just being naive and stupid.  Maybe the whole marital bliss really is just a passing phase.  Then I thought of the marriage besides my own that I know the best.  My parents' marriage.  Of course, as a child of the marriage, I don't know half of the struggles that went on, the disagreements, the trials, the hurt feelings.  What I do know from pure observation is that my dad told my mom she looked pretty at the dinner table, they said their prayers together at night, my mom organized my dad's desk for him, they danced in the kitchen, and they took week long vacations without the kids every year.  It sure doesn't seem like a marriage where the bliss ended after two years. 

I also know that the two years since my dad passed away have been the most difficult and trying times of my mom's life.  I know that she has experienced severe heartache, on a level that the rest of us can't understand.  I know that she misses him every day.  I have seen her shed countless tears because of his absence.  And I'll tell you this much- my mom's not crying because somebody she tolerated and picked up after left earlier than she thought.  She's crying because they were right smack in the middle of marital bliss.

I don't know diddly squat about marriage.  I'm a freaking amateur over here.  But I know this much.  Marital bliss isn't supposed to last for two years.  It's supposed to last for eternity.

And that's what I learned today on my trip to the lady doctor.

Bliss

Dad

Two years ago today my dad died.

There's a lot that I could say that would probably be too personal.
There's a lot that I could say that would probably be too sad.

So I'll just share some thoughts from the heart and try to keep it simple.

My brother, Dennis broke the news to me that my dad died.   It was 7:20 in the morning and I was doing my student teaching at Timpview High School.  I could hear my phone vibrating off the hook in my purse.  I knew something was wrong.  Anytime your phone rings ten times at 7 am, you know something is wrong.  I stepped out into the hallway to return the phone calls.  I'll never forget how Dennis's voice cracked when he told me.

I left the school right away and rode down to Price with several of my siblings.  That day is a complete blur of food, neighbors, hugs, and tears.  But there's one part that is remarkably clear to me.  Around four in the afternoon, I couldn't be in the house anymore.  I couldn't feel the heaviness.  Couldn't take one more tear.  Couldn't see one more person look at me with that face that said, "I feel so sorry for you."

So I went for a run.  I hate running.  But there was something about the run that was almost cathartic for me.  A great release of emotion and sorrow.  I ran and I ran and I ran.  It was cold outside, but somehow the cold numbed the pain.  I ran past the spot where they had found my dad, I ran along the trail where he always went on his bike, I ran up dirt hills I'd never seen before, I ran without stopping, I ran until finally I came to a gate and a fence that would let me run no more.

And then I collapsed.  I fell on the rock hard Carbon County dirt, and the tears came hard and fast.  I pleaded with God.  "Please don't let this be real.  Please let me go back in time 24 hours.   Please let me wake up from this nightmare.  Please.  Dad, come back.  I'm not ready.  I need you.  Don't leave."

It's difficult to know what to say about such pain.  There's nothing to compare it to, because the pain of unexpected and untimely death is in a league all of its own.  I'd always been a daddy's girl and I loved him so much and no one had even bothered to ask if it was okay with me that he left.

I would have said no.

The funeral was beautiful.  I'll always be grateful to my friends who travelled to the obscure town of Price to be with me that day.  From Salt Lake, from Provo, even from Phoenix, Arizona.

Elder Hales spoke at the funeral.  It is one of the most spiritual experiences I have ever had.  He told us that my dad was prepared to go.  That it was never in the plans for my dad to live longer than this.  He told us that the veil was thin and that we could talk to dad at any time.  That now us kids had two fathers in heaven.

Since that time, there have been many times when I have felt my dad's presence strongly.  When I have felt his love, his support, his approval.  When I have witnessed for myself that the veil, indeed, is paper thin.

The strongest and most powerful experience was the day of my wedding.  From the second I entered the temple that morning, I knew my dad was with me.  His presence was so strong that I was almost surprised I didn't see him right there, shyly grinning from the back row.  During the sealing, tears rolled down my cheeks for the entirety of the ceremony.  My dad was there. Everyone there knew it.  The feeling was so strong it was almost tangible.  He was sending me his love, his approval, telling me he was proud of me for everything about the decision I was making- the time, the place, the man.

There's so much that could be said about my dad and my relationship with him.  The things he taught me, the example he was to me, the bond we had.

But I'll just share this one memory and then I have to stop.  The summer I turned 16, I accompanied my dad down to Emery county every Tuesday afternoon to work at his podiatry clinic.  I would change out his rooms, organize files, and get the patients ready to see him.  For my strenuous labors he'd pay me $8 an hour.

I was learning how to drive a stick shift that summer, so I would drive to Emery and back, my dad in the passenger seat coaching, "Second, second, put it in second!"  "Don't ride the clutch!" and  "Bonnie, slow down! The speed limit's 50!"  

Every week, without fail, we would stop at B.K's Stop and Shop on the way home and dad would buy a big cherry coke for us to share.  I had both hands busy at all times, trying desperately to maneuver the ever-difficult stick shift, so my dad would hold the cup for me and move the straw to my mouth so I could have a taste.

And that's how we spent every Tuesday evening of the summer, driving home from Emery with a stick shift and a cherry coke.  And for some reason, this is the story about my dad that I love the most.  I don't know why exactly, but I guess it's because it just doesn't seem like there's anything in this world quite as tender as a girl shifting and clutching and steering while her dad, sitting shotgun, holds up a straw to her mouth so that she can get a sip of cherry cola.

Time to break up

This relationship has brought nothing but misery and heartache to me.  I have stayed longer than I should, and now I have finally seen the light.  I've gotta move on.

It's time to cut my losses, venture out on my own, and try to find happiness.

I'm breaking up with Jazz.

It's not easy to break up with someone that you have loved and cherished for years.  It's not easy to detach yourself from someone you consider a part of you.  But it has to be done.

I never imagined it would turn into this.  I was 11 years old when the whole love affair started.  I blame it all on John Stockton. 

The score was tied 100-100. 
Game 6 in the Western Conference Finals.
2.8 seconds left of the game. 
Stockton threw up an ugly three pointer.
Swish
Didn't even hit the rim.
Stockton literally leaped for joy.  Leaped higher than I've ever seen a white man leap.
My siblings and I jumped and cheered on the couches, screaming our hearts out.
The Jazz were entering the NBA finals for the first time ever.

That right there, that, was the moment that I committed.  Fully.  I fell deep and hard in love with Jazz and everything that came with him.  I vowed to stay with Jazz come what may.  To be a fan for a life.  To be dedicated.

And that's how the relationship started.  As most do.  With excitement, with love, with visions of the future.

The first heartbreak came two weeks later when  Jazz lost in the finals against the Bulls.  I had committed to my team, but he still let me down.  I wanted to go all the way, but Jazz couldn't.  And I was left to pick up the pieces.

The second heartbreak came the next year when Jazz lost in the finals against the Bulls.  Again.

After Jazz lost that last game in 1998, I watched Michael Jordan celebrate, I watched him grab his MVP trophy, I watched him kiss the floor, and I couldn't take it.  I didn't want my family to see my distraught state, they couldn't know how much this relationship actually meant to me.  So I took the dog for a walk, to air out my sorrows.

I cried.  And I cried. 
Because anytime you experience a great disappointment from your lover, you cry.

But I cowboyed up, and I continued in my devotion to Jazz.  We never progressed as far as we did those first two years.  Oh, we were in a serious relationship, no doubt about it, making the playoffs year after year, but I couldn't get the commitment from Jazz that I wanted.

Then, I watched him start to crumble.
I watched Jazz lose their greatest players: first Hornacek went, then Malone, and finally Stockton.

I stayed faithful.


Me and the Jazz (Jeff Hornacek)
during happier times.

I was a fan when their best player was Andrei Kirilenko.
I was a fan when they lost more games than they won.
I was committed.
In love.
Nothing would make me give up on this.

Deron Williams came and added new hope.  New fire.  This could be a healthy relationship again.  We could be happy.

Every year our relationship was progressing more.  We were making the playoffs again.  It was fun, like back in the old days!  Not just losses and tears, but triumphs and excitement!

When I married Hubs, I thought I would be able to break up with Jazz and end our miserable, unhealthy 15 year relationship.  I would devote myself completely to Hubs and end all ties with former lovers.

Little did I know that Hubs was deeply entrenched in his own relationship with Jazz.
And so we became a trio.
A dysfunctional three way family of sorts.

Last year, tragedy struck.
Jerry Sloan, Utah Jazz coach for centuries, retired mid-season. 
Unannounced, unforeseen.
Just up and quit.

I went to counselling.  I did breathing exercises.  I meditated.
We would make it through this.  It was the greatest trial our relationship had seen yet, but we could survive.

Weeks later, tragedy reared his ugly face a second time.
Deron Williams was being traded to the Nets.
Unannounced, unforeseen.
We watched the promising season go down the drain.
Suffered ten losses in a row.
Misery.
Heartache.
Tears.

Trying to save the relationship.

I knew my relationship was on the verge of collapse.  But I held tight to what reassurances were left.
We still had Millsap!
We still had Hayward!
We still had Andrei!
We could make it through even this relationship hurdle.

It was at the end of last season that it finally dawned on me.  I was sitting on my couch with Hubs, watching Jazz blow a huge lead in the fourth quarter.  I saw Jazz scramble for the ball, miss shots, and lose his temper.  And it came to me.  Clear as day.

I would never be happy with Jazz.  Never.  Jazz could not give me what I wanted.  Couldn't fulfill any of my needs. Not a one of them. 

And, so, for the first time ever, I considered leaving Jazz.  But I didn't have the strength.  Like all bad relationships, Jazz had sucked the life out of me and left me unable to even stand on my two feet.

But the seed had been planted.  The idea was in my head.  I could leave.  I could be happy again.  I could be free.

And right when I was considering my huge break up with Jazz, how did he react?  He didn't bother to even play basketball.  Didn't show up to work.  He went on strike.  Refused to date me.  Not only was he not trying to make the relationship work, he wasn't even showing his face. 

Jazz quit before I did, let the records show.

The final blow came yesterday.  I checked the newspaper in the morning and saw the news.  In the midst of an ugly lockout, the players had refused the latest deal that had been given them. 

I knew then that was this end.  Jazz didn't want me.  He wanted money.  He has perhaps never wanted me.  Never loved me.  Never cared.  It was never about us.  Not about me and Jazz.  It was about something else entirely this whole time.

Yes.  All along it had been a one way relationship.  I gave, I gave, I gave.  I loved, I cared, I supported, I stood up for him in the face of his critics.  I watched him lose, I watched him suffer, I watched him ask for more money.

He never gave back.  Never called.  Never said I love you.  Never contributed to the relationship.  Our love affair was unhealthy from day one and slowly deteriorated over fifteen years to nothing more than a woman begging for love and commitment.

Now I'm done.
Throwing in the towel once and for all.

I'm sorry, Jazz.
I just need to look out for myself from now on.
I always loved you.  And I always will.

But this relationship is over.

When Kim gets divorced

Monday, while driving home from school, Hubs sent me a text with a picture of the cover of OK! magazine.  On said cover was Kris Humphries and Kim Kardashian with the caption "Don't leave me!" 

Hubs wrote "I told you so." 

You see, ever since I made Hubs watch a few moments of the Kardashians with me, he has been convinced that the K&K marriage was on the fast track toward divorce.  I, ever-the-optimistic-and-faithful-believer, said the marriage would last.

I didn't fall for his text for a second.  "Ok! magazine is not a credible source!"  I texted back. 

Puh-lease! Doesn't that boy know anything about where he gets his celebrity gossip from?
Ok!- not reliable
People- reliable
Star- not reliable
Celebrities' tweets- reliable
US weekly- not reliable
E! News- reliable 
Come on, Hubs, try to keep up!

Less than a minute later, I was listening to 97.1 (Pay me, you fools!  All I do is advertise for you!) and an announcement came on, "The rumors are true, folks.  Kim Kardashian filed for divorce from Kris Humphries this morning.  Reason for divorce is listed under irreconciable differences." 

97.1- reliable source

Kim Kardashian and Kris Humphries, after 72 days of marriage, have called it quits.

Yes, this is the same wedding I was recently watching while experiencing mad fits of jealousy over the millions of dollars worth of diamonds, the multiple wedding dresses, and the endless bouquets of flowers.

Now... I know that I don't know Kim.  And I know I should not be affected by things that happen in her life.  I know that I might actually be a much happier person if I stayed the h*** away from all celebrity gossip. 

But here's the truth of the matter:

I don't stay away from celebrity gossip
I did want Kim's marriage to last
and
I am affected by the news of the divorce.

The reason is this.

I myself am a newlywed.
I have only been married for 235 days.
And I still don't know a lot about marriage.  In fact, I consider myself a very inexperienced and imperfect marriage partner. 

But this is what I do know after a mere eight months...

Sometimes marriage is about making the other person feel loved.  Sometimes marriage is about being there when the other experiences a great disappointment or heartache.  Sometimes marriage is about making sacrifices that you don't want to make.  Sometimes marriage is about working through complete differences of opinion.  Sometimes you get in arguments when you're married.  Sometimes you have to be careful what you say and realize your words can hurt. Sometimes you go to bed upset.  Sometimes you go to bed really upset. Sometimes being married is about patience and working through problems together.  Sometimes marriage is about growing together.  Sometimes marriage brings you such great feelings of peace and protection and love that you get overwhelmed if you think about it too long.  Sometimes your heart is so full of love that you think it'll just burst if there is any more love.  And sometimes you think how in the world did I ever meet this person and convince him to marry me?  And then you have to sit down for a minute and just cry because you realize you are so so blessed to have that person in your life.

And that is why I am affected by the news of Kim's divorce. 

Because marriage is wonderful. 

And Kim's missing out. 

Welcome to the world, baby girl!

Hiya Emery!

My brother, Dennis, and his wife, Ashley, had their first little baby yesterday. 

Yes, I am now once again hankering for a baby.

Yes, Hubs is once again seeing if he can rent a giant teddy bear for the week.

Emery Ashley Blackburn weighed in at nine pounds seven ounces and put in a helluva fight to get into this world! (If I put the swear word with other words and combine them like that, it's not really swearing).  First Emery was four days past her due date, THEN she made her mama struggle in labor for 24+ hours, THEN Emery was upside down, THEN she decided maybe she'd actually like to come out via C-section.

Hate to tell you Dennis and Ashley, but this girl's gonna be high maintenance!

Now... I, being the loving, caring, full-of-wisdom aunt that I am, decided to help Emery out a little bit.  You see, I've been a girl in this world for 25 years now.  She's only been a girl in this world for 25 hours.  So I think I'm entitled to teach her a thing or two.

1.  Your dad is a real softy.  He tries to play tough, but he's not, so if you play your cards right, you'll be able to get just about anything you could ever want from him.

2.  Your mom's got real good fashion sense.  Take advantage of it, and learn to like shopping now, because you're going to be doing alot of it!

3.  If you need someone to sneak you to the mall to get your ears pierced, I'm the gal.

4.  God already gave you a bomb family.  Now you get to pick your friends.  Choose them wisely, especially in college, because those people will help you through some tough times.

5.  One day you are going to hit puberty.  If you start mensturating on a 9th grade field trip to Goblin Valley and somebody points it out to you while you are climbing a huge ol' rock, don't even worry bout it.  It's happened to the best of us.  Your life as you know it is not actually over, as you might think in that moment.  You'll survive and live to tell the tale.

6.  Your first kiss probably won't be that awesome.  You'll have a lot of expectations and the kiss will let you down.  Your first kiss with your future husband, though- that's something you can look forward to!

7.  I know your parents try to eat pretty healthy.  So if you need chips and salsa, coke, ice cream, or fruit gushers, head right on over to Aunt Bon's!  I'll hook you up.

8.  You don't have to go on a mission if you don't want to.  Your mom might want you to stay home and be where she can always call you.  But if you do want to go, just know that it'll be one of the best decisions you've ever made and will change your life. I'll send you cookies and letters and be your #1 fan while you're out there.

9.  Mary, Mindy, and Becky are alright, but you need to know that I'm the coolest of the sisters.  I'll gladly take the role of favorite aunt.

10.  If you could get yourself a little sister some time soon it will make your life so much better.  I wouldn't be half the person that I am today without my little sis guiding me along (*Hint* Dennis and Ashley... Emery needs a little sis...)

11.  Sometimes life gets a little rough, even for the toughest of us.  But we'll be here for you- helping you, cheering you on, and loving you to pieces. 

Welcome to the clan!