This post is for

my friends who don't click on the link to Chantel's blog. You should! I live with her and half my life is represented there sometimes.
Look at this gorgeous baby! I think he could pass for mine! Chantel took these pictures on March 31 when we were in California. Rolan was just shy of six months old.

Baby kisses! I love this age, slobber and all.














I've never seen a daddy so enamored with a baby as Clayton is with Rolan. That little guy gets more face, tummy, and feet kisses than any baby I've ever seen. He's got a great little laugh too. And Michele is an in-tune and sensitive mother with a lot of common sense--a great combination for raising a child. I sure miss you guys!

Who are the Poor Among Us?

The last few years of his life Brandon developed a great sensitivity to and concern for the homeless, the down and out, and people with disabilities. Every day at school he made an effort to talk with the disabled on campus at DVC and LMC. He used to tell me how bad he felt that many of them didn't seem to have any friends or anyone to talk to because they were 'different.' He made it a point to try to change that. Brandon talked with people everywhere he went--on the BART, on the bus, on the street, at the grocery store. He loved the interaction. He had picked up a little Spanish and liked to practice that when he could. He was also taking his third semester of American Sign Language and had developed a close relationship with a deaf woman and other friends in the deaf community as well. Unlike many of us, Brandon was comfortable with everyone and in any situation. Frankly, he worried me with the way he trusted others until they did something to destroy that. He had been mugged, robbed at knife point, slapped in the face, kicked, and probably some other experiences that he didn't share with me. I finally had to accept the fact that no matter what happened to him, he was not going to stop reaching out to other people. In his attitude, the world was full of people less fortunate than he was and if he could make their lives even a little bit better, he wanted to.

The poor have been in our midst in every dispensation. In the Book of Mormon, King Benjamin counseled his people on this very subject: "Ye yourselves will succor (Latin: run to) those who stand in need...you will administer of your substance unto him that standeth in need; and ye will not suffer that the beggar putteth up his petition to you in vain and turn him out to perish." I know that this is the right thing to do, but I have to question how actively I follow through.

Brandon's death has made me aware of my own thoughts and feelings about the homeless population and those who ask for handouts. King Benjamin's people apparently had some of the same attitudes we have today: "Perhaps thou shalt say: The man has brought upon himself his misery. Therefore, I will stay my hand and will not give unto him of my food, nor impart unto him of my substance that he may not suffer, for his punishments are just." How easily I think this and justify my decisions to ignore others! Perhaps sometimes I've done so out of fear. Or I can tell that the person really does have a substance abuse problem, but that does not relieve me of my obligation to help another.

I"ve been in meetings and discussions before when others say that they never give the homeless money because they're sure that the person will just go spend it on drugs or alcohol. I used to feel that way too, until one day it occurred to me that even drug users get hungry, need food, and clean water, a place to lay their heads at night. I decided that if I felt impressed (or inspired) to give another person money, then that was the right thing to do regardless of the doubts that might assail me just then. It isn't up to me what the person spends the money on, nor is it my responsibility, just for giving it to someone, to make sure that that person spends it in a way that I think he should.

King Benjamin continued, "But I say unto you, O, man whosoever doeth this [judgement on others] hath great cause to repent...For behold, are we not all beggars?" It's been said that most Americans are only three months away from being homeless. We have way too much debt, not enough savings (if any), and we live paycheck to paycheck. So who's to say that the next man on the corner didn't have a respectable job and a nice house just a short time before? "And now, if God, who has created you, on whom you are dependent for your lives and for all that ye have and are, doth grant unto you whatsoever ye ask that is right, in faith, believing ye shall receive, O then, how ye ought to impart of your substance one to another." Brandon didn't just believe this principle. He was one of those who could have said (quoting King Benjamin again), "I give not because I have not, but if I had I would give." Instead, Brandon found ways to give anyway in spite of his very limited income. He lived this principle like no one else I have ever known. In that way he was a great example.

The other day I took an exit from the freeway and saw a man at the corner holding up a sign. My first impulse was to judge his appearance--Did he look as though he was getting enough to eat? Was he thin and showing signs of drug abuse? Did he look like an alcoholic? I ignored those thoughts and reached for my wallet. Generous. That's what Brandon was and in his honor, I did what I thought he would have done. I reached out the window and pressed a bill into the man's outstretched hand. He looked down and then his face registered surprise. "God bless you!" he said. I had done the right thing. That was for you, Brandon. And I felt like he was there beside me in the car, cheering me on. I could still hear the man shouting, "Bless you! Bless you!" as I drove away with tears coursing down my cheeks.

Bittersweet; April 2, 2008

Pallbearers leaving the Pittsburg, California chapel.Left side: Marty Bruch, Colten Dayley, Clayton Dayley, Dan Dayley
Right side: Larry Dayley, John Dunn, Mike Dunn, Nicholas Dunn

Martha, Marty and Rachel

Me with Michele and Rolan--Sweethearts both!

Brandon's good friend Traci, Martha, Soren, Chantel and Austin. Traci and Austin were conversing using American Sign Language. Brandon was becoming fluent in sign before he died.

Other Posts I Found About Brandon

Posted by Shane and Nikki.
Posted by a friend, Amber.

How I am is Relative

An often heard question has been on my mind lately--the one Chantel wrote about recently: How are you? I have two responses to that every time someone asks me. First, there's a certain deliberateness with which they speak, a slight inflection in their voices that isn't there when they're saying, How are ya? "How are you?" are the first words to remind me that someone loves me. Someone is reaching out and genuinely wants to know how I am and I'm touched by that, even more now that the funeral is over and most people are getting back to their normal lives. But the question always takes me by surprise, maybe because I'm functioning so much on auto-pilot. It's like a little shake of my body that says, Hey, your son died and how do you feel now? The second response to the question "How are you?" provides a brief window of opportunity to stop and do an emotional/mental check in--healthy for someone who is determined to do the work of grieving no matter how difficult, and I know that the person who has just asked the question is waiting for a real answer from me which prompts me to stop and consider. But the answer is more important to me than to them, because it keeps me in the experience of grieving and hopefully moving forward. What surprises me is how suddenly I go from thinking I'm fine to crying deeply--like the flip of a light switch. Isn't the answer to the question, "How are you?" relative to what life is dishing out at the moment? If judging by what I'm doing or not doing, I probably appear to be doing well: I don't stay in bed. I don't hang around in my pajamas, although I wouldn't hesitate to do that for one day if that's what I needed. (So far, I haven't needed to.) I'm not binge eating, drinking, or playing hours of mindless computer games to 'numb out,' and I'm not putting Brandon up on a pedestal as a guy who was the perfect son. He wasn't. In addition to daily activities and being Grammy, what I am doing is a lot of writing, a lot of crying, talking about him when the opportunity presents itself, and googling Brandon's name, (you get a different list if you google 'Brandon S Dayley or Brandon Scott Dayley compared to Brandon Dayley). What I've come to realize over the past week is that those who check in with me help to keep the grieving process moving forward, but nothing makes the pain go away, and no remembrance of the difficult times make the sorrow lessen either. Just like the birth of a new baby doesn't 'make up' for the infant who died, there's no earthly happiness that can compensate for the hole in my soul either. The only way over grief is through it--and that's fodder for a later post because 'getting over it' is a myth. Getting through it is what I'm attempting to do and honestly, it still sucks out loud and probably will for a long time. There's no timed grieving process that I have to adhere to, no right way to do it, no goal in mind and for that I'm thankful. I'm taking it one day, sometimes one hour, at a time. Keep asking me how I'm doing. I need your love and I welcome your concern. Just don't be surprised when I answer truthfully: not very well.

Ten Reasons Why You Should Have a Great Birthday

You make my daughter laugh
You gave her the lowest 'dip' I've ever seen on a dance floor (at your wedding)
You're an expert pasta cooker
You read books to your boys and play with them
You're willing to (and do) use your priesthood to bless others
You do your own taxes
You taught me to play 'Settlers'
You are sensitive to others needs
You played lots of chess with Brandon and he loved that
You made all the difference in his graveside service
Happy 30th Austin!

First Day Home

My sorrow threatens to overwhelm. I vacillate between sobbing, that grief that only another parent who's lost a child would recognize; actively working to help my daughter deal with her own loss in the only way I know how; and functioning with a numbness that borders on the edge of crossing over.

My grandsons don't understand, only that their routines are non-existent and their elders are sad and quiet. Owen asked me how long I was going to cry about Uncle Brandon. I did not have an answer for him.

The ward here is ready to help however they can, with childcare, meals, and anything else we need. One would think the first days are the worst, and certainly I have experienced moments--making funeral arrangements, seeing Brandon's lifeless body, the closing of the casket--but now that we have done all that our Mormon and American cultures require, it feels that I am expected to carry on as before, but I do not know what that looks like or how I'm supposed to feel. I don't know for sure, but I think the real grieving is yet to come, something I both welcome and reject. I had a very strong son in every way and his passing has left a hole larger than the man that he was--and that's saying a lot.

Easter Memories

Brandon's first Easter, 1977. He wasn't interested in his basket at all...at first...

With cousin Ardell eating shells and all.

With their rabbits from Grandma Dayley.

Easter 1979

Chantel and Brandon Easter 1979 with the bunny rabbit.

Clayton, Easter 1984. Oakley, California
Chantel , Easter 1984. Oakley, California
Brandon, Easter 1984. Oakley, California.Chantel and Brandon, Easter 1984. Oakley, California.Clayton, Brandon and Chantel, Easter 1985. Oakley, California

Easter at Pop's House 1966

Martha, Rachel and John, hamming it up (pun intended!).

These pictures go with an entry I posted on May 7, 2007.

---

What will a quarter get you?

I'm sitting in a bathroom stall in Walmart and Owen is waiting for me outside the stall. Chantel and Soren are across the store.
"Grammy, what's this?"
Since I can't see what Owen's talking about, I tell him to wait and I'll let him know when I come out. Then I hear his little mind going to work..."Well, let's see, it takes quarters...I wonder what will happen if I put my quarter in here...maybe this gives disposable diapers! I can get one for Soren...let's see, right here..."
"Owen? Owen?" Too late. I hear the sound of a knob turning, and another woman's laughter. When I come out, Owen is laughing too. "Grammy, look what I got!" It isn't a disposable diaper! I telll him to put it in his pocket and give it to his mother. Right before we get back to Chantel, I see an older man coming toward us on the same aisle and before I can know what he's thinking, Owen whips out his 'prize,' holds it up and uses it like a musician's baton, accentuating every word, "Hey, can I tell you a funny story?" The man is in his sixties or early seventies and he looks from Owen to me and back to Owen while Owen tells his story and I can't shut him up nor can I get the 'prize' out of his little hand, so excited is he to share the humor. Finally, the man says, "Do you know what that is?" And Owen looks at him as if he doesn't know anything. "It's a tampon of course!" "Oh, I see," says the man and he grins and shakes his head while I try to herd Owen back to his mother.

Another Lesson (Re)Learned

I withdrew from grad school. I know it was the right thing--the only thing, actually, that I could do given my present circumstances, but I still felt sad about it. What I realize in looking back, is that I shouldn't have enrolled this semester to begin with and here's why.

I have long been of the mind-set that when I'm trying and trying to do something and everything I do doesn't work, it's almost always because I'm on the wrong path. Now I can't describe exactly the feeling between what I'm talking about and the natural opposition we get when we KNOW we're doing the right thing, but this "signs" experience happens occasionally and if I had paid closer attention to the signs, the details and the feelings, I'd have saved myself some grief.

When I was trying to register for school I ran into all kinds of problems, from registering for classes, to reaching people in the right departments, to being registered as a 'non-degreed' student even though I was accepted otherwise, to getting financial aid. There were so many indications that I shouldn't force school, and the most prevalent was the feeling, even the idea coming into my head that maybe I should hold off. But did I listen? Listen and trust? Noooooooo. I think I was so anxious about having a plan for my life, having a reason to get up and having goals to work toward, that I forced the issue anyway.

Had I waited just a little longer, I would have arrived at the same place without all the unnecessary stress. I know why I'm not supposed to be in school and what I'm supposed to do and why. Feels wonderful. I'll keep you posted.

I have done so much genealogy

that I know some families really well. Above is a picture of my grandmother with three of her five sisters and below another picture of the whole family from about 20 years earlier.

Eva (Granny), Josephine, Katheryne, Clara.

All the Pearce's on 5th St in Memphis (house is no longer there) 1916. The couple on the front right are my grandparents with their first baby, my Uncle Lester.

I know who Granny and her sisters married and when, where they lived, whether or not they had children, which children died, when, why and from what, how far apart they and their spouses died, which ones divorced, which ones remarried, who had money, what they did for a living, and all kinds of other details that naturally appear when putting family puzzles together. One thing I know for certain: My granny and her sisters loved each other and were the best of friends, especially as they got older. Granny's parents, Ora and Edward, were gentle people who loved their children and had a deep faith in God. I have the same picture of my granny and her sisters on my laptop as I do here. I've seen it every day now for over two years. I showed Owen the picture the other day. "Look, Owen! There's your great-great Grand Aunt Clara, your great-great Grand Aunt Katheryne, your great-great Grand Aunt Josephine, and there's your great-great Grandmother!" He looked at the picture a minute and then said with an excited smile, "Did Granny come over on the Mayflower?" I could almost hear her laughing...

There's a down side

to having a blog, I just recently discovered. That is, that everyone who checks in knows whats going on in my life so I assume you feel up-to-date. Drawback is, that most of you don't comment or respond which makes it a little lonely out here. Last I heard, relationships are still two-way, so think of my blog as a look into my personal scrapbook, not a substitute for calling or emailing. I miss you!!

Chemo: Match 2 Round 1

And in the blue corner wearing a Citiknits black and coral three-piece ensemble and a very chic do, we have defending champion Maaaaartha, the Maaagnificent! ding ding ding ding!

So, any ideas how my first chemo here went?? It was GREAT! I felt anxious the past few days but the closer today came, the more peace I felt. No tears this time at all, no feelings of fear or 'I don't want to be here' or out right, 'get me out of here!' Nothing like that. I was actually anticipating this with a fair amount of optimism and a whole lot of gratitude for being in this area with my Tel and getting to see Dr. K.

I saw Dr. K's P.A. today before treatment. I like him very much. Straight forward, compassionate, obvious that he knew my history, even that I'd moved out here recently. Later, Dr. K made it a point to come out to the infusion center and talk with me and Telly for awhile. I was so impressed (again!!) Remember, this is the same man who came to see me in the hospital on his day off...

I figured out why this infusion center feels so different from the one at Kaiser: Not only does it feel more cozy (it's smaller and the people overall are very warm and friendly) the room is more spaciously arranged, the chairs are a prettier color (although they recline and function the same way) and one entire wall is windows! I love that! I love light! I really enjoyed seeing the sky through the tall trees here which are just beginning to bud! So pretty! And we had an early appointment so there weren't very many people in the room. My nurse is great. She explained a whole lot and checked on me often. And unlike Kaiser who gives you whoever the computer will bring up, this place will do its best to give me the same nurse every time. I think that's important both for rapport and because some nurses are way better at putting in IV's. I like knowing what to expect

My new medication is the color of strawberry jello. Just as red as it can be. Some people have side effects, especially the first time they get it, but I didn't. Chantel and I visited for awhile and then I fell asleep from the Benadryl. When I woke up, she had already made my next appointments and had a packet of information for me. The entire visit was just over three hours. The nurse said next time it will be shorter since I tolerated the Doxil, they will give it to me faster next time. Round two in 28 days.

Oh, my gosh! I forgot to tell you something important! I had a good amount of energy today (we went to Costco this afternoon) and I realized that it's because I had my lung drained! Yes! Earlier this week Dr. K arranged for me to see another awesome guy (not too warm and fuzzy but brilliant with his work) and he drained my lung on Wednesday afternoon. I was extremely anxious (translated, in tears) about the visit because of the experience I had in emergency last month, but Dr. Morton was technically incredible. On a scale of one to ten, the discomfort level was a one, and I can breathe again! Yay! I should have gone in sooner. Chantel, I love you so much, and I'm sorry I caused you anxiety and a nightmare by putting off the procedure. I won't do that again!

By way of information

Chemo has not started yet. Apparently red tape at Kaiser is nation-wide, not just on the West Coast. Kaiser here should have sent approval of my treatment plan back to the doctor already, but they haven't. When one of my doctor's employees called yesterday, she found out that the process hadn't even been started! She was pretty upset and told them that someone had to print out the ok and hand deliver it to the right department for faxing to her. I should be able to get a firm start date scheduled today. Hope it's soon because the fluid around my lungs (both sides) is getting worse, making it difficult to move much, talk and breathe. Don't be alarmed...I'm not far from the hospital and I will go in for another lovely lung tap if I have to, but I'm really just wanting to get started on the chemo which should take care of the fluid problem on its own.

Grad School

is a challenge. My writing instructor is an accomplished person. She's one of those who's been writing since she was ten and she's won all kinds of awards etc. I don't think I really even started writing until I was at least 42. It's difficult not to compare myself to others, although as far as the students go, we're a pretty good group. No one person stands out as being really fabulous or really bad, but that might change...Last week I misunderstood the assignment and I turned in what amounts to a child's ditty:

Oh may you live in a humble house,
a rumble, jumble, tumble house
with rats for friends and a purple mouse,
a laughing toad and a curious louse
da-da da-da da-da da-da...

you get the idea...now maybe if I were taking a writing for children workshop...but I turned it in, not just to the teacher, but to every student for critiquing! Oh well, as least I have the option of emailing to them a do-over...

Fun Times in the Calder Household

Some of you have already seen these pictures on Tel's blog, but for friends who don't click over, we have moments like these not infrequently. I love this little family! It is a blessing being here in the Baltimore area with them.

Inspected, Found to be Infected, Nonetheless, Directed

Ok, so my title is an attempt at humor and to practice coming up with a 'sexy' title, something one of my very favorite professors talked about as important for every piece we write.

You know how sometimes you do something, or think of someone and call, or go somewhere, and only later do you look back and realize that you were being directed because of what happened after that? This is my attempt to relay the events leading up to today.

I saw Dr. Koutrelakos today, the oncologist, henceforth Dr. K. He is the one I wanted to see, prayed that I'd be able to see, and the same one who was recommended to me last week. But I had my doubts about how it would all work out. Fast forward: I start treatment next week, but instead of 5 hours every 21 days (there goes my weight loss commercial) I will spend one hour every 28 days. I'll have 4 to 6 treatments and from the sound of things, will be able to stay in grad school. I am resistant to the original meds they had me on (about 30% of ovarian cancer patients are) and this one has no heavy side effects. I even get to keep my hair. Hurray!! Ok, now for the coolest part.

Last week before I went to the hospital, I felt impressed to call one of my new friends, but I couldn't figure out why I should call. Finally I quit arguing with the HG and called her. She told me that if I needed chemo again, she hoped I would get to see Dr. Koutrelakos. When she said that, I felt a warm feeling and wrote down his name so I wouldn't forget. That night in the emergency room, (I was there all day) the pulmonologist said she was going to call oncology in even though the test results weren't back yet. (Big duh! But she was cool. I liked her.) I told her that a friend had recommended Dr. K. The next day in my hospital room, Dr. K comes walking in, smiles, introduces himself and proceeds to tell me that he'd heard about me and even though it was his day off, wanted to come see me. (Do you think I was impressed? Let's see...) I felt an instant connection to him, very caring and sincere doctor but then the anxiety started. I didn't know how in the world Kaiser would pay for me to see someone outside Kaiser. I prayed and cried and worried and stressed for days. I wasn't even sure if Kaiser would pay for the emergency visit and all the tests. Then two days ago, I called Member Services and they told me I'm covered for emergency and urgent care all over the world! So I went to Kaiser here to get a referral from the primary care doctor I was assigned to. She asked if I had a preference of oncologists and when I told her Dr. K, she said great, because Kaiser refers all their oncology out because Kaiser doesn't have any oncologists locally. After I got the referral, I called Dr K's office and they got me in the next day. I couldn't believe how easy the whole thing was.

Today at the end of my visit, which took place mostly in Dr K's office and reminded me of Aunt Claire's house with color on the walls and beautiful furniture, he asked if I had any more questions and I said yes. "How did you know about me last week?" He said the hospital had called the practice and he happened to be the one "on." I found out that had I gone to the emergency room the day before or the day after, he would not have been the one 'on' when the hospital called and I would be seeing someone else instead. The last thing he said today was that he believes people meet for reasons (implied: beyond our control). Chantel went with me and she is such a comfort and support.

Now, was I inspired to call my friend, even though I didn't know why?
Was I inspired to go to the hospital the day I did, even though I didn't feel that bad?
Was I inspired to make a move to the East Coast when I did and not later, as originally planned? Heavenly Father really will guide us if we will pay attention to the still small voice even though sometimes, especially if we have our fingers in both ears, he's a little hard to hear. I have to say that I've felt the spirit many, many times throughout my life, directing me one way or the other, knowing what to do, what to say, when to keep silent...you'd think I wouldn't spend one single moment arguing when I get an impression. Good thing he is patient and understanding. I am proof that he knows us and loves us and, contrary to what some people might say, cares about even the most minor details of our lives because he cares about us that much.

I Love You

for the way your eyes crinkle at the corners when you laugh
for obligatory dance parties
for how cute you looked in braces
I love you for a laugh that's all yours
I love you for the face you make when something sounds gross
and for all the recipes you gave me that start with 'one stick of butter'
I love you for the compassion you have for the down and out
for eating my spinach
watering my plants
and feeding my cat
I love you for teaching me how to lead music
for your tender heart
for your bizarre sense of humor
and because you understand mine
I love you because you keep getting back up
I love you for the way you snuggle with your children
and love palm trees
and burritos
and chocolate
and traveling
I love you for sitting with me in silence day after day
and because you love hydrangeas
and gardenia bushes
and the smooth sound of a car's perfect engine
I love you for forgiving me when I stayed out of your life for awhile
and for loving me when I came back
I love you for the way you balance your checking account,
even though I do mine just the opposite
they still come out the same
I love you for teaching me to love puzzles
to play star wars and deep sea creatures and Settlers of Catan
I love you for the way you giggle
and squeal
and run with your feet crossing over each other
because you just can't help the happiness
I love you for your freckles
your long eye-lashes
your piggy toes
your dimples
and even your moles
I love you for all those times you washed my car
and took out the garbage
and helped weed the flower beds
and sent me funny cards that made me laugh
I love you for going with me to the ballet when you didn't really want to
and I even love you for laughing out loud when you weren't supposed to
I love you for the way you looked at me then
and the way you look at me now
I love you for teaching me how to laugh at the most absurd
pray for the most awful, and believe in the unbelievable
I love you for introducing me to Thai cuisine
for all those long walks and long talks
for girls' nights out and the mcbc
I love you for the way you fell in love with parenthood
for the way he adores you
the way you love him
and listening while I cried
I love you for calling me Sis
for calling me Mom
for calling me Baby
for calling me Poose, and Guh, and Monkey Mama
and just for calling
I love you for the first time we met
and for the next time we meet
for your resilience in the face of adversity
for all the pies and homemade bread and beet pickles
and because you love Jesus
I love you because you send me funny emails and serious ones
and some in between
I love you because you sat with me when I was going through chemo
I love you because you drove me to the hospital in the middle of the night
I love you for your beauty that spills out in your writing and in song
for the sound of your voice when you say, 'Hey, Buddy!'
and because you know just where to scratch when I say 'hairy patch'
I love you for our shared experiences
for going first at the Senior Thesis Event
for the things we could tell about Justin and Tina and Kate
I love you for building me a garden when I could only watch
because you dance even though sometimes, you can't
for knowing I'd still love you even after you told me about waking up inside a bass drum
I love you because you made sure that I had snow chains in my car
you believe I can do anything and that makes me try harder
you forgave me, more than once
and the look in your eyes tells me that I hang the moon

I love you for every minute and every hour and every day we've shared
for hanging in and holding on and never letting up or letting go
I love you for adding your own special color to the fabric of my life
I, simply, love you
Happy Valentine's Day!

Well...

I've written and rewritten this, trying to figure out how to share such personal information in such a public space. Part of me wants to protect you--those especially who have extra tender hearts, or tend to worry, or may weep when they hear. But I've been told that I need to stop trying to protect people from the truth. My mom and siblings know, as of today, that the cancer is back. More than likely it has always been there, just too negligible to show up on any tests. The bad news is that there's a spot on my liver. The good news is, that there's a spot on my liver and not multiple spots all over! This is another challenge, and we all know that life is full of them. I will do the best I can and though I wish this were all behind me, it will be soon. Some days will be better than others I'm sure. In the meantime, I've been promised great blessings and I fully expect the Lord to keep His word. I'll need your hopes, your faith and prayers and your positive energy. I will let you know more after I see the oncologist next week.

Rare Find!!

I found the following while sorting through old cards and letters. I decided that scanning and posting would be more effective than trying to explain...I received this in the mail in 1998.


Leah is all grown up now, living in Thailand studying fashion design and pattern making. I have always enjoyed her sense of humor and seeing the world through her eyes.

Happy Birthday Mikey!

Sending you a birthday rain check for a meatloaf dinner.....xo

A Fabulous Artist

Heads up people! I just found out that a good friend of mine, Sharon Wise, not only has a website, but she has her art in several galleries. Congratulations girlfriend! I've seen her paintings up close and personal and they are simply gorgeous. Sharon works in water colors, but you're not going to believe what you see. When I publish my first book, I'm going to treat myself to one of her prints. Sharon creates her own settings, takes her own professional photographs, enlarges them and paints from those. Each painting takes hundreds of hours and can have over 20 layers of color. I rented and lived downstairs from Sharon for two years. We took lots of walks together and went for Thai food on occasion. After I moved into my condo, Sharon and I met several times for tea and girl talk. Not only is she a rare artist, (I've never seen any work like hers) she is also a dear friend. You go girl!

People keep asking

about my hair. Friends and family want to know if it's growing back (yes), how long it is (not very), if it's a different color(no), or if it's curly (no). Chantel took the pictures below. I have had five different strangers ask me where I got my hair cut or tell me that they love it. I'm so surprised every time...in a museum, on a bus, at church...I plan to keep it short, at least until I start missing french braids. This is the easiest thing I've ever had to deal with.Smiling at Soren who was standing with me against the wall. The earrings were Mother's.

The walls in Chantel's living room are three different colors of blue. Very festive.

We Thank Thee, Oh God, for a Prophet

I sit tonight at my computer; the house quiet, the family asleep. Checking my email before turning in, I read an announcement, that President Hinckley has died. I am surprised, but softly. After all, he was 97, yet I feel tears beneath the surface. I walk quietly upstairs so as not to wake the boys. "Chantel?" I whisper, just in case she's asleep, but she isn't nor is Austin. I need to share this news with them. I can't take it to bed alone. They are surprised too, and thank me for telling them. The whole interlude lasts but a minute and I sit here at the keyboard again, trying to analyze why I want to laugh and cry at the same time.

"Everything will work out." That's what President Hinckley always said, and that's what he believed. Because he believed it, I believe it too. Whenever he spoke, I felt his great love for us, and for the Savior. I loved our prophet's great sense of humor, his courage to lead us during these ever perilous time, his ability to raise public sentiment of the church to greater heights. I love that he said what he thought, that he was clear about standards and right is right and wrong is wrong. I admired his talent for speaking out with both clarity and humility. I believe that President Hinckley did more for the masses save Joseph Smith only, by accelerating temple building around the world, providing those blessings to hundreds of thousands of God's children both here and beyond the grave. That's the way I'll think of him.

The church will go on and the role of leadership will transfer seamlessly. In spite of evil's best efforts, the gospel will continue to spread until the hallowed day of Jesus Christ for which we all work. God bless President Hinckley. God bless America and all the nations of the world. President Hinckley taught us by word and example how to live and how to be happy! I am grateful to have lived under his loving and watchful care these many years. I will miss him very much.

Of All the Nerve!

What some guys won't do to get their faces on the internet! Clayton and Larry with the one little pudgy I can't wait to get my hands on. He doesn't seem to have either of your hairlines. Michele's maybe? You two are so lucky! Thanks for sharing!

Mother's Boundless Love

It didn't occur to me just how much Mother loved me, and how good she was at showing that love, until after I became a grandmother. When my children were born, the center of my world was them. No child had ever been born that was as beautiful, smart or adorable as mine. (The adorable part waned during adolescence, but that's another story). Mother agreed with me, or I believed she did. So over the span of eight years, while I was having children, I telephoned Mother frequently about "firsts." First steps. First waves bye-bye. First words.

"Mother! Guess what? Brandon said "Dada!"
"Mother! Guess what? Chantel sang the alphabet to us backwards in Spanish!" (Just kidding Tel, but you were a quick-minded little thing).
"Mother! Guess what? Clayton is sitting up by himself, right now!"

I was so thrilled with every little accomplishment and I never tired of sharing the news with her. It never once occured to me that perhaps she wasn't as thrilled as I was. Never mind that she had already raised her six siblings, a couple of cousins, a nephew, five children of her own, and by the time Clayton came along, was the grandmother of thirteen and the great-grandmother of at least three more. Oh, no, she had seen her share of many firsts, yet she always responded the same to the announcements of mine:

"Ohhhh? Well, isn't that special?"

I always heard the smiling in her voice. And I always hung up marveling at how amazing my children were. Now as I look back, I wonder that she loved me that much. Because I truly believe that she did know how I felt, because she had felt it too and yet she never tired of the wonder of little ones. Her love was boundless. When I called to share my happiness with another woman, she of all the women in my life, knew how I felt. Unlike I who laughs at the wrong things and doesn't always have the right words, Mother always knew what to say. I was blessed to be her daughter-in-law those many years. Someday I will see her again and I'll tell her once more how much those years meant to me. And with a smile on her face, she'll look me in the eyes and say, "Ohhhh? And wasn't that special?" And I'll reply with a smile too, "Indeed, Mother. Indeed it was."

The First Snow of the New Year

Yesterday morning it began to snow here, and not just a little, beautiful white flakes by the billions, wafting softly groundward. We drove to Walmart where I bought some new thick hats and scarves (for walking in Baltimore proper where my classes are beginning soon) a red one and a purple one--and only a buck each! Owen spent his birthday money, even buying a toy for Soren, for which he was highly praised. We ate lunch at the boys' favorite place, Chick-Fil-A, where they ate chicken nuggets--Soren's plain, and Owen's with ketcup. By the time we headed home the snowflakes had increased in size--they looked like puffs of cotton falling. The streets were both slick and slushy and traffic was backed up everywhere. We listened to Disney music in the car and sang and marveled at the beauty all around us. Chantel said the snow reminded her of the winter setting in "The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe". In spite of driving over an hour to go the few miles home, we didn't mind because everywhere was a winter wonderland.

As soon as we got home, Chantel dove right in and began shoveling snow off the porch...

and the driveway...

while Owen practiced making the largest snowballs he could...

which soon evolved into building a snowman...and making smaller snowballs...

which, you guessed it...turned into a snowball fight!Chantel, a direct hit!Owen taking cover behind the snowman
Snow much fun!

After taking pictures, I made home-made hot chocolate for everyone. I'm so blessed to be part of this family's everyday life. Chantel, I love you and admire the way you play so spontaneously with your boys.

Fantasy

Owen has the capability of going into "imagination mode" and staying there for hours. The past few days I've been to a ball with queens, kings and a very large fire-breathing but nice dragon named Scuff-scuff (because that's the sound he makes when he scratches on the door to get in, hmm, maybe some canine in his pedigree). I won the award for best dancer and Scuff-scuff presented me with a giant emerald from his cavern of jewels. In fact, he has so many jewels that he loaned them to the queen in order to cover her floor and make the castle appear more festive. Later, he used his fire-breathing capabilities to zap all the brown leaves on the queen's property--much faster than raking and bagging, don't you think?

I've also spent some time in the cellar (aka beneath my down comforter) hiding from several raging tornados which completely obliterated the house each time. But thank goodness our little dog was still alive protected by Scuff-scuff. And, of course, nothing can hurt Scuff-scuff. He stayed outside the cellar and fought the tornados single-handed, (or single-footed?).

When I wasn't in the cellar or at the ball, I was the giant evil toad who turns his enemies into mushrooms. He can be invisible and he's immune to electricity so no amount of zapping will do.

I also rode inside a magic spaceship whose people spend most of their time exploring caves and caverns and collecting specimens of rocks and jewels. The spaceship, too, can become invisible if necessary to get away from an enemy.

Then, alas, I became the magic witch doctor whose potion (ham and beans) cured Spaceman Spiff of his ailments inflicted by contact with aliens. He thought the beans tasted gross but the potion worked he came back for seconds on the ham.

Oh oh, I hear the wind raging again. Another tornado?? What are we going to do???

My Sister's World

I googled Rachel's name today and found this copy of an article that ran in the Concord paper. Thought you might enjoy reading it. The Original Unbelievable Apple Maker Sweet!

Location, location, location!

Owen reminded me recently that I live in Columbia now. The city in Maryland. Not the country in South America. Good information to have I think. Thanks, Buddy.

I Did Not Die When the Year Did Even Though You Thought So You Thought Wrong

I've had several ideas on my mind lately, regarding the New Year, the Washington DC/Baltimore temple, the doctrine of faith and works, and other things, but I just have not had the time to do justice to any of those subjects. At night I'm thinking, thinking, thinking, but too tired to blog and soon it's the next day and a new opportunity. Disclaimer: Tonight's entry is straight from the hip. Don't be surprised if you see changes later. For now, I'm making amends and getting to it.

I took some great videos of the boys playing recently--Owen "performing" for the camera, Soren talking to the camera and Chantel and Austin dancing. I lost all of it during download from my flash drive to my laptop. pth@$$!%@*^$hhh! That's a raspberry in case you didn't know.

I have finished unpacking and organizing. I even hung pictures. Chantel took a huge box of mostly clothing to a donation station for me. I'm getting my computer work space set up with shelves etc, but I know that some days I will go to an internet cafe somewhere and do my work there instead. It's too easy to play with the boys when I should be catching up on my writing. Of course, catching up is a ridiculous phrase when it comes to writing; there's always more to write about. Lately, I've been thinking about the daunting task of transcribing my personal journals. Yikes. The upside is that someone would probably have to do it anyway as parts of mine are in pencil which won't last. Another upside is the opportunity to do take-backs and do-overs. I'm not so sure that the way I thought 30 years ago would hold any water today. Surely I'm a different person. The downside is I don't know if I really want to read what I wrote so long ago, and the job is a big one but, 'bird by bird' as writer Ann Lamont says.

Brandon has been visiting since the 29th. Tomorrow is our last day with him as Friday he takes the train to New York City for a friend's wedding.