Weirdness for sure

Ok. So I know I've posted about my strange sleep habits but today tops them all. First of all, I've been going to bed at a decent hour (between 10 and midnight) and sleeping all night without interruption. Heaven! So this morning, I woke up at 6 am. Rather than stay up, I decided I'd lie down for about one more hour. Ha! No such thing. I woke up at 1:30 and I had not moved at all. The worst part was all the teasing I got at chemo since I slept right through my 11 am appointment and had to be worked in during the afternoon. I've had some long sleeps before, and some long naps, but I don't remember ever taking one for 7 1/2 hours! I'll never live this one down. Everyone at chemo today were all grins.

I Love You, Still

This was supposed to post on Valentine's day. I don't know what happened. 2nd in a series.

Because you’re a fighter

a wriggly wiggler

a bed-time breaker

and a soccer ball kicker

I love you because you love rock and roll

porcelain dolls

eating at the Mecca

and anything on which to climb, even me

I love you for the way you move with a destination in mind

play your music

kiss those little fingers

and belch like a sailor

for the tomatoes, the potatoes, the corn

and because after all these years

you talk about that venison steak dinner, still

I love you because you love hats

like me

and pet rats, um, not me

for late night chats

for the sharp sound of 'crack' every time you got up to bat

and I miss those days

but I have my memories

I love you because she slobbers

a lot

and you don’t mind

for that home-made macaroni and cheese

and because your lemonade is too sour

but your enthusiasm makes up the difference

I love you for saying yes

for not asking why, though I think you knew

your expressive hands

your fat toes

and your tight little butt

Ok there

I said it

I love you for allowing the anguish

to push you up, not down

for after dinner walks

for walking the talk

talking the walk

and Grammy, come see the moon!

I love you for your apple trees

your apple crisp

your sparkling apple cider

and the Unbelievable Apple

I love you because you’re generous

you sing with your whole soul

kiss with your mouth open

and 'do when the spirit say do'

I love you for the squeak in your laugh

the bounce in your dance

for teaching me how

and for what Jessica Rabbit said about Roger

I love you for surprises

big surprises

I mean, really—Big Surprises

and for that time

eating plums from a tree in the dark

I love you for your work ethic

your working man

your working man’s hands

and for giving me my first pair of earrings—gold, Trifari

I love you for your wild bushy hair

their buzzed heads

and mine too

1-2-3

I even love your bih

your buh, your do, your duh

and your fro

because I’m your guh

and you’re my bo

I love you for your art

drawings that fly and blast create chaos

like bombs and rocket ships and farts

and make you laugh out-loud

I love you for the raisins

the easy hugs

the way you hitch up your pants because you walk

just like him

and no one tries harder than you

I love you for your French fries

your give-it-to-me-straight philosophy

for being the slowest to anger I've ever seen

and sparklers on the fourth of July

I love you for tri-tip on the grill

June bugs

your stubborn will

for telling me the truth

even though

it made me cry

and camping in the hills above Burley

I love you because you get it

you got it

and that’s good

I love you now

I loved you then

I loved you before

and probably

I've loved you forever

I love ya

I love ya, darlin’

I love you—still

Happy Birthday

If you were here, I'd drive you into Baltimore to have some world famous crab-cakes, and I'd delight in your swooning, the savoring, the way you roll your eyes absorbing even the tiniest minutiae of joy. We'd talk about food and you'd tell me about one time when you were in Thailand, or Australia, or France and I'd go with you there while you described in perfect detail, the best meal you'd ever eaten--or at least, one of them. I'd make sure the waitress knew it was your birthday and the whole restarant would sing "Happy Birthday!" to you.

If you were here, we'd talk about cookbooks. I'd show you the WWII cookbook I have that's dedicated to General George Patton and includes a plea to the women of America to make do with less in order to support the war. We might talk about Uncle Lester and Aunt Janie then and the time you spent with them in Florida. Eventually our talk would include Cleora's Kitchen. I'd remind you that I first saw it at Marion's house. And I'd admit that I went home and bought myself a copy, not for the recipes, but especially for the picture and the story of Cleora and the school photo. It still makes me laugh.

If you were here, we'd go to Annapolis to the Hall of Records and find Grace Eleanor Tenley's records. There's a street in D.C. called Tenley St; we'd find out why and we'd discover some local history, her parents and her siblings, sit on the floor among thousands of historic books and whisper like we did in the Memphis library five years ago now. On the way home we'd remind each other about our plans to go to Wales and walk the shores where the Pearce's lived. I'm looking forward to that.

If you were here, I'd take you to Mount Vernon where George Washington lived and is buried; you'd marvel and exclaim as we toured the house, the separate kitchen, the outbuildings; we'd walk down to the wharf of the Potomac, then over to a portion of the land that's still a working farm. You would laugh to discover that composting and crop rotation was a new idea then. We'd go through the threshing barn, then past a slave shack. Inevitably, our conversation would turn to slavery, growing up white in Memphis, Lena, and then we'd stand there in silence for awhile before hiking the trail through the woods to the mausoleum. A docent would point out trees that George Washington planted and are still thriving. On the way home we'd stop at a small out-of-the way restaurant for hot home-made soup.

If you were here, we might take the train to New York for the weekend. Take a carriage ride through Central Park, shop in Manhattan and have dinner at a world famous Italian place that I can't remember the name of just now, but Rachel would know. We'd take in a Broadway matinee, have our picture taken underneath the Wall Street marquee, tour Carnegie Hall and revel in the luxury of staying in a 5-star hotel.

If you were here, I'd tell you that you are a woman I have admired my whole life, that I love you for your intensity, the depth of passion and emotion you feel, that I understand it, the power and the contrast, the joy of it, and the burden. I'd tell you that I always felt safe when you were around. That you mothered us when you didn't have to. Every little girl should be so lucky. I'd tell you that you have many spiritual gifts and talents, that I love having deep conversations with you, and I love the way you question what is and what could be, always looking forward to the future as a place of happiness and light.

If you were here, I'd bake you a big chocolate birthday cake, because I make the meanest chocolate cake ever, and you'd agree with me after the first bite. I'd close my eyes, too, for just a moment while you made a wish, and I'd ask God to grant your wish, because of your passion for life and everything good and the way you have always loved. If you were here, I'd give you a hug so strong and immense that you could feel it anytime you needed one for the rest of your life.

If you were here, I'd say, Happy Birthday, Dear Sister, Friend of My Heart. Happy Birthday to you.

Making it Official

This morning I decided that I need to break some old habits by starting some new ones. Instead of waiting until bedtime to read scripture, I read after breakfast before I do anything else. That way I make sure that it happens. And for some reason, I feel compelled to re-read the Book of Mormon straight through and finish by March 28, 2009, the anniversary of Brandon's death. Now, if it were a novel, no big deal, right? The last time I made this kind of goal (I hate to admit it, much less put it in writing) was in 1983 when I was in labor with Clayton...

My labor started late in the evening and after only four contractions I was doing the breathing thing. I worked hard, and Larry did too, pressing his thumbs in my lower back during each contraction. "Harder! Harder!" I'd scream, and harder he pushed. At one point he said, "My thumbs are going to be permanently kinked backwards!" Most of my labor was in the warm water of the bath tub. When the midwife arrived and I asked her how much longer, she said at the rate I was going, probably six or eight more hours. I couldn't do it. I knew I couldn't. I had given birth to two other children but this labor was different, intense from the word go, and we were having yet another home birth. I closed my eyes and prayed. I promised the Lord if he would help me have this baby soon, I would read the Book of Mormon from beginning to end--something I had never done before. I delivered Clayton within the hour without a hitch, and he was over 10lbs!

He turned out to be the most contented, good-natured baby ever (of course, he should have been content--he nursed every hour for the first 48 hours, and was up to 13 pounds by the time he was 3 weeks!) The sweet spirit he brought into our home cannot be described. The joy of his birth and the love his brother and sister felt for him was truly wonderful.

One morning while nursing him in the rocking chair, I remembered that I had bargained with God. We had a deal and I needed to keep my end of it. I picked up the Book of Mormon and started at the beginning. I read and I read. I cannot explain the peace I felt during those times and how it permeated our home. I made it a point to read whenever I sat down to nurse. Sometimes I read for five minutes, sometimes longer. Eventually I did what I promised to do and finished the sacred record. Blessings followed the way they always do whenever we keep a commandment, and I'm sure much of it had to do with increased spiritual knowledge.

Last Sunday in gospel doctrine our instructor asked for examples of how reading the Book of Mormon has blessed our lives. I thought about that sweet time with Clayton--25 years ago now, and I guess that's when I decided to read straight through again. Why I feel the need to do it by March 28 isn't clear. But often, we go by faith, right? Ten pages a day or more. I'm on it...