Santa

I love Santa Claus. He's like the coolest.
He gets to ride in a sleigh and he is like round and cuddly and he gives presents to everyone!
The only problem is he is a a "he."
I have always wanted to dress up like Santa and be Santa, but first, I hate to fly.
Second, I'm sooo not round and cuddly.
And I'm a "She," Not a "He."
But I LOVE to give presents, to the detriment of my bank account and my family's sanity.
(Now for any of you who may have your visions of Santa demolished, please don't read the following.)
This year, my daughter asked if her dad would dress up like Santa for a Christmas party.
I said yes.
He didn't say yes. Let's make this perfectly clear. I did what he has asked me not to do more than once, and that is say "Yes," for him.
But I wanted him to be Santa. I even went and bought, yes, bought, not rent, him a red suit, complete with stupid black boot covers and dinky small hat. I even bought him a white, fluffy beard with white fluffy hat. And bells! And a sack! And candy canes to give to the 150 to 200 tykes who are going to sit on his knee.
Tonight is the night, but last night we tried on the beard and wig and .......
I was in tears. I did not buy the $15 beard and wig because it was felt with cotton balls.
I did not buy the $50 wig and beard because I had to buy the suit.
I paid $25 for the wig and beard.
I'm hoping my daughter-in-law can make Rod look more like Santa than an old guy in a wig. Or hoping the kids will be too excited to notice he is a bit sparse in the hair department.
But now I can say, "I am in love with Santa," and really mean it:)

Crocheting

I simply love to crochet. I haven't always liked to crochet. It seemed too difficult. I mean how do you keep one hand going while holding the yarn in the other hand, count stitches and follow a pattern?
I didn't get into crocheting until I became a grandmother 17 years ago. Then all I wanted to do was crochet edgings around flannel blankets and burb clothes.
But then I was faced with lots of wedding invites and my sister gave me granny squares to sew together for afghans. I then found some patterns and then I discovered there were many types of yarns out there.
I will admit I have enough yarn that if for some odd reason I ended up stuck inside my house for six months, the food will run out before the yarn.
And it's not all the Red Heart stuff either.
There's feathery yarn.Yarn that looks like fur. Yarn with glitters. Yarn that is silky.
And my patterns. I think I have more pattern books than mystery murder books and that is saying something. I also love to make up my own patterns. My favorite one is one that my son-in-law, Josh, created last Christmas. It was for a batman afghan for his two sons. My daughter-in-law Megan asked me to make one for Ben for this Christmas. I loved making it even though I devoted hours and hours to all three of hte
And hooks.
Oh my goodness. My favorites are rosewood. I love how they feel in my hand and how my hand doesn't cramp. I was introduced to rosewood by my aunt. She gave me a beautiful H rosewood which I used until I lost it on a trip. I have invested in many rosewood hooks since then. Not all rosewood hooks are equal.
Then there are the hooks that have lights on them to make it easier to crochet when the lights are out, like on a road trip or camping. And they make it easier to crochet with dark yarn.
Oh, I could go on and on about how much I love to crochet. Crocheting, like writing and reading, makes the time go faster.
Crocheting has a way of making me relax and quit focusing on stupid problems, like kids, husbands, housecleaning, editors and holidays. I just focus on the project, the yarn and the hook, marveling how after hours and hours I have created something that is usually appreciated.

Spiders

I don't like spiders.
But don't tell my daughters or grandchildren that. They think I'm fearless when it comes to spiders. I know "There's a spider in the same area" scream when I hear it. I will dash to the scream, whip out the AK47 tissue, book or shoe to kill the vermin and all will be well.
But let the spider, no matter its size, come around me when I'm no where near my offspring and I can shake with fear and bellow with the best of them.
For example, I was approaching a bench to sit in court when a spider the size of nothing caught my eye. It was walking along the partition separating us good folks from the court staff. I did my best squeaky, "Spider," with wide eyes and shaky hand pointing to the teeny, tiny eight-legged creature.
The bailiff, who is twice my size, slapped at the moving dot, only to fling it off the partition.
Yup, spider landed right next to my foot. I jumped almost on top of the bench, when I realized how silly I looked, so I stepped purposefully, adding a twist and committed capital homicide.
Then on Thanksgiving, with a houseful of guests and my bedroom filled with grandchildren watching a movie, I headed into my bathroom for a break of sorts.
Now there I was preparing to take care of business when I noticed I was "Not Alone. "
An eight-legged creature that looked like a Argog's grandchild was doing its best imitation of wall decor at eye level to the white throne.
I felt the scream coming, but checked it. After all, four of my grandchildren were on my bed in the very next room watching a movie. And in the room next to them was my German exchange student with her friend visiting with my daughter. And I can vouch none of them would run to help me. Rod, of course, was not in the house. He had gone outside to show our oldest son some manly thing in The Shop.
So I grabbed a fistful of TP and pounded the wall, while trying not to cry, which naturally caught the attention of my grandchildren who knew for certain I must be having a seizure or something.
"Grandma, are you alright?" Katie asked.
"Yes," I said, choking back sobs.
"Grandma, do you need help?" she said.
"No, I'm fine. Just a spider," I replied.
"Spider!" she screamed and I could hear her racing to the other side of the room followed by her sister and cousins.
Like I said, no help.

Wondering

I just read my cousins' blogs. I remember those days of staying at home and all of the sudden the day was hijacked.
It happens now even though I work full-time.
I had great intentions to go today to Credit Union A, pull out the funds for our property taxes and put into my checking account in Credit Union B before I mail the payment. Why two credit unions?
Well, if I have to go to Credit Union A to pull funds out of savings, I have to THINK about it, then plan the trip and most of the time, it's NOT worth the effort, so I do NOT hijack funds for spending. If you know me, you know I LOVE retail therapy!
OK, back to the topic.
Hijacked.
You see instead of a friend calling to see if I could watch their kid so they can run errands and I end up staying home, a story now falls in my lap that has to be done. Usually these stories require that I wait P-A-T-I-E-N-T-L-Y for people to research the answers to my questions and call me back.
I know they're waiting until the absolute last minue. Which would just fine except Friday, tomorrow is Veterans Day, which means every government office and financial instutition, i.e., credit unions, are CLOSED.

The Nest

My nest once held five children. As they grew up, they spread their wings and jumped into their lives. Everyone said to me wait for the empty nest syndrome. I think they meant I would miss my kids. They were right.
After my youngest left home the first time to work in Virginia, within six months we received a request from a young man we knew in Germany. He wanted to come live with us for few months. He was 19. Matt was a fun young man.
Then he went home and Jennica returned from Virginia. She finished her studies at Weber State, spent a year at our home, until she got married to Tyler a 18 months ago.
Then within a few months, Terra, Josh and their sweet two sons moved in. They were between houses. They stayed for a few months and moved out within just a few weeks of Christmas.
Our nest was empty for about six months. Jennica and Tyler moved in July. They were between houses. They moved out two weeks ago.
Clarissa moved in just a week ago. She's from Germany. She's an exchange student and the hoset family where she was staying was having a crisis. My friend, who is a coordinator with the program, asked if I knew anyone with an extra bed, room and open heart.
Yup. I'm parenting again.
I think I need intervention, but not until Clarissa leaves. She's such a nice girl. Sure, getting her to school and back is a slight hassle, but it could be worse:)

Loretta's space: October

Loretta's space: October

October

It's October! Grandson No. 5 is 1 years old! His mom just turned 25! Grandson No. 1 is 17!
The leaves are turning bright vivid colors. Rod dug up the garden and left a few boxes of tomatoes on my back porch. There's a bucket of Asian pears sitting on the garage floor and several butternut squashes decorating my back stairs.
But the best part is I finally convinced Rod to go to Disneyland and we did!
Of course, the perfect trip didn't go so perfectly. How do I explain?
We left on Sept. 28 and came home on Oct. 1. I was trying to avoid crowds. I didn't think that other Utah families would slip out of state that weekend, being General Conference weekend for those members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
It was also the opening of Disney's Halloween Party. And California schools close for Jewish holidays, which there was one. And it was Gay Pride Week.
Crowds? Can anyone say mobs and mobs of people. Shoulder-to-shoulder, can't move an inch. Someone help me please!
Rod did enjoy the rides. He loved the fact I bawled my eyes out on Tower of Terror. I hate being dropped into nothing. I hate it. I had no idea that was the ride. I guess I just didn't read the fine print or even looked at the ride. I just went. And screamed. And cried, and cried and cried.
Of course, after I got control of myself, my daughters, Terra and Jennica, decided I needed to try it again. Who was the fool who told them to face their fears?
Facing fears:
So let's get this straight for all those who like to read this and decide for whatever reason I must be a hard hearted woman because I cover some brutal court cases. Nope. I'm a woman, with feelings. I don't go home and kick the dog and slap my husband around. First Jade, my dog, would bite me. Second, Rod would hit back.
Seriously, I'm a human being with feelings, but I do enjoy covering court. The same as attorneys enjoy the law process and police enjoy arresting the bad guys. They're human too. It's just we want to do the best we can and make our world a better place for everyone. I just happen to write about the evils in the world so the public cannot ignore them.
And ignoring stuff is something I don't do, unless it's the bathroom floor that needs to scrubbed. Seriously.

Need a battle plan

I need a battle plan.
I love spending time with my grandchildren. Really. I just wish I could spend more and not feel rushed.
Take last night for example:
I agreed last week to watch two of my grandsons because my son-in-law is out of town and my daughter is a photographer who actually gets paid to shoot photos of brides. Sure, she could hire a babysitter, but there is no one like Gramma, except Auntie J (Youngest daughter, designated as favorite aunt by all).
Then on Sunday I agreed to go visiting teaching on Wednesday. For those not of my faith, that is when two women are assigned to visit other women in their congregation to make sure they're OK, all is well and maybe bring a spiritual thought.
Then on Tuesday, I agreed to call about some paper my hubby wanted for a project, thinking he wasn't doing the project until next week.
Naturally he needed the paper Wednesday.
So I'm flying, er, driving quickly from Layton to Ogden to get said paper supplies.
Then I'm hustling back to Syracuse to grab grandsons before daughter has to leave for her appointment.
The 3-year-old let it be known to all within screaming distance he didn't want to go with me. He was tired and wanted home. He screamed all the way from his house to my. And my boss called with a question on a story and I was stupid enough to pick up the phone and he could hear the screaming. Caller ID warned me.
I called hubby. Told him I had the paper, but I needed to go to the grocery store still to get milk and bread. He heard the screaming. He said he'd pick up the milk and bread.
I get to my house, a bit rattled from the flying and fed those adorable boys. (I had chili in a crock pot). Then I'm loading kids in the car to go visiting teaching. You're not supposed to take kids visiting teaching, but I agreed to watch the boys and I was not going to dump them on Rod (who had meetings scheduled for the evening) or Aunt J. (She is temporarily living at my house until her house is ready.) I could also see Aunt J was very tired. She's a special ed teacher at a junior high school.
Rod arrived as I was loading the two munchkins. (OK, I was chasing the smallest around the car to put him in.)
Rod offered, bless him, to watch the 3-year-old, who had no desire to go to strange house (he was twisting his face in "I'm going to scream loudly" mode).
The 6-year-old wanted to go with me. Visiting teaching... um, an adventure his mom hasn't allowed him to do.
"So do they have kids?" he asked.
"A daughter, but she's a teenager," I said.
"How about treats?" he said.
"We don't ask for treats." I said.
"Will the daughter play with me?"
"Nope. You get to sit by me."
"I should've stayed with papa."
"Tough beans."
30 minutes later, we're back at the house, loading the boys in the car, so they can go home, pick up toys (easier said then done), and take a tub (I wiped up all the water splashed out of the tub), read books (how many books can Grandma read before she falls asleep) and then hopefully they will zonk out.
It seemed the plan was going fine, until the 6-year-old let strangers into his house. Ok, they were strange to me. I didn't know them. No one told me some people were coming by to get some things. All I saw when I walked out of the bathroom (helping 3-year-old brush his teeth) was a very tall man I never met before in my daughter's kitchen.
Yup, the witch appeared, also. I'm good as a witch.
"Excuse me, who are you? And why are you in my kitchen?"
"Uh, Terra said..."
At least he knew whose house he was in.:)
Now on for tonight's adventure.

My birthday

So today is my birthday. I'm officially 27 years away from 80 so that's how old I am.
80 seems to me a scary age. It seems very, very old because women in my family on both sides have croaked around that age. I don't plan on dying before I'm 80 or anytime around it simply because my husband's genes will make it so he lives to be 100 or something, and I refuse to be replaced. He would replace me.

Replacing people. ...brings me to the Dirty Dash. It's a race for charities that people actually sign up and pay to do so they can get muddy and cold in Midway.

My son-in-law, Josh, signed up for it. No big deal. But then he convinced two of his brothers to be part of his team, "The Dirty Heros," and my other son-in-law, Tyler. A friend was also supposed to run with them. A family emergency happened, and my son Chad was conned into running with them.

Josh bought white tank tops for all of his team members, superhero briefs and colored tights. Or what he thought was tights. They were not opaque. But the briefs covered, barely, what needed to be covered.

Chad, who is 29, has ran two marathons. His times have been, OK, really good, like 3 hours and 14 minutes and 3 hours and 19 minutes. I'm a mom. I remember these things. (OK, so both races were within the last year). Chad runs several times a week, if not every day.

Josh, his brothers and Tyler are lucky to run once a week.

So there we were in Midway on Saturday, with these five men dressed as super hereos, ready to get muddy. It was a bit brisk, temperature wise, but these five men weren't going to let chilly weather deter them. They took off with about a hundred other runners dressed in colorful costumes to run cross country through lakes, mud and obstacles.

Chad believed his pace was slow enough for the other four to keep up.

Nope, Chad, who is thin, with no body fat, had to wait for the others to catch up so he could face the cheering crowds with some support. He was freezing before it was done.

But as I watched all five men swing across the hay stack, yes, swing, I was really proud of them. By this time, they were covered in mud, with mud in their noses, eyes, hair and ears. Sure their attire was comical, but they were doing it to help others. I was also humbled by the number of people who ran the race. Some did it for a specific cause, others, like my team, did it for all.

Photo Book

Click here to view this photo book larger

Procrastination

Procrastination or in my definitions: working on a deadline or even a looming deadline or a tight deadline.
I live for deadlines. Deadline is a funny word. Editors will kill me if I don't meet the deadline, hence deadline. While working on projects at home to meet deadlines, like Christmas, birthdays, vacations or serving Sunday dinner to 21 people, my husband and children usually have wanted to kill me as I stress toward the deadline.
I know with some projects, including work, I can organize myself so I'm not stressing out as the deadline approaches. But I can't help myself. I'll wait and wait until there is hardly any time and then dive in, taking everyone around me into deadline mania.
You see I'm proscrastinating now. I should be writing a story. But I don't want to. That happens when I've either churned several stories out already. Monday I wrote three. Tuesday two. Today one and two more to go before 7 p.m. The other one, I could get done in less than an hour if I just buckle down. It's for the weekend. Interviews done. Research done. But hey...
It's like when I get home tonight, I will be on deadline writing a story for Thursday's paper. I will also be on deadline for this weekend's family activity. I just have to keep breathing. I have this list in my head. I could put it in ink, but then I get overwhelmed and I find a book.
It's like Maxine, my favorite comic strip character said today on my desk calendar, "Never put off till tomorrow what you can just ignore indefinitely."

Noise

My husband is one of the most positive persons I know. He wakes up happy. He's smiling and laughing before he even gets out of the shower.
He has learned though if he wants happiness to spread, not to talk to me first thing in the morning. I can't deal with noise, talking or anything for the first 30 minutes or so after I wake up. If my glasses are not on my face, I'm officially not awake.
I was never really a morning person. I'm usually grumpy when I wake up. I have tried to focus on thoughts like, "Heavenly Father created this day, so I will have a great day."
That lasts about five minutes if I'm lucky. Then I'm grumpy again because I will notice the pile of clothes that need to be folded or put away, or the dog is yapping because she wants to go for a walk, or I'm really trying to sleep in and the mourning doves are hooting or cooing or whatever they do outside my window.
But my husband. He's up and happy and he can't even sleep in! I mean, for rude! Even on a rare Saturday when he doesn't have a church assignment or a family event, he is up by 6 a.m. ready to see what adventure or havoc he can create for the day. Usually havoc.
He thinks mowing the lawn at 6 a.m. is a perfect time because it's cooler. Ok, but it's noisy! Or he'll start a project that includes a saw, weed wacker, pruning shears, or tractor.
I could get mad. I have. But it's useless. It's like telling the sun not to come up. He doesn't get it.
He figures half of the day has gone by by 8 a.m. and he's missed something.
Of course, by 1 p.m. or 2 p.m. on Saturday, he's ready for a nap. He then likes to have quiet.
I'm not a nap person most of the time. By afternoon, I'm ready to vaccum,sew, talk on the phone, watch a movie or do the wash. All noisy ventures.
Maybe it's my way of getting even.... Ummmm. I wonder? :)

Family

It's August. The summer is flying by. I really have good intentions, but this summer at work, has been so difficult.
We have to churn out stories constantly. It's not like in the past when an editor would give you actual time to work on a story and make into a masterpiece. I know my editors would love to let me have more time on stories, but they too are under fire.
So when I think about blogging, all I want to do is read other blogs. I don't want to write.
But it's August.
The first of the month rolls around and I don't want to host another gramma sleepover. But I cave in because I know how much my grandchildren look forward to it and my children also look forward to having one night and a Saturday without rug rats.
It's not hard to host the sleepover. My grandkids are good and know the rules and usually play well with one another. I'm just tired after working 40 hours and especially this summer with so much stress at work.
But always, always after they all go home, I'm so grateful I did. I know I'm not just hosting time away from parents, but creating memories.
Like the last one.
Rod bought a tent off of KSL's website. Not just any tent, but a great big tent that can sleep eight adults comfortably. He bought it so HE could use it for Scouts. Well, he made the mistake of putting it up when grandkids were coming over in June. They were all so excited to see it. They thought we were going to sleep in it.
I told them we'd do it in August when Papa would be home to help. He was scheduled to go with Scouts in July. He actually ended up coming home a day early because of the weather, but because of the weather we did not put the tent up that weekend.
Note: (I'm now going to do what my cousins do, refer to my grandchildren as Miss 1 or Mr. 2, not by name in order to protect them).
So Rod and Miss 2, who is 10, (Miss 1 thinks being 15 is too old for sleepovers at Gramala's) spent an hour on Friday putting the tent up. All of the grandkids brought sleeping bags and couldn't wait to get in them. As soon as their parents left, they were inside their sleeping bags on my bed watching Toy Story 3. They pretended to be snakes.
After the movie Rod and Miss 2 took the sleeping bags outside while I got Mr. 2, Mr. 3, Mr. 4 and Miss 3 and Miss 4 in their pajamas. Not much work since they help each other. Miss 3 is 7 so she can dress herself. Mr. 2, who is 6, helped his brother, Mr. 4, who is 2, and also helped Mr. 3, who is 3, get jammies on. It was really cute. Miss 4, is 2 and didn't want anyone to dress her but Gramala.
Mr. 5, who is 10 months, also joined the party on Friday. He is still too young to spend the night with the gang. He also thinks if there are people around he has to party hardy! Definitely my son's son.
Anywho, I ended up in the tent with the six of the seven. Mr. 5 stayed inside the house with Papa to watch TV until his parents returned from their movie date. Then Papa slept in our comfy bed. It was requested because he snores.
There I was in this tent with six kids, ages 10, 7, 6, 3, 2 and 2. All snug like a bug in their sleeping bags on nice cushions, except Miss 2, who claims sleeping on cushion in a tent is wrong, just plain wrong. She roughed it.
For the first 30 minutes I was playing "Smacking the mole." I didn't really smack anyone, just kept telling Mr. 2 and Miss 2 to get back in their sleeping bags.
I did use the trick I use in Primary of getting kids to behave. I notice and say outloud, "I really am appreciative of Miss 3 staying in her sleeping bag. Oh look, Mr. 3 is trying so hard to go to sleep."
By 11 p.m. all six were asleep.
Now there I was in the tent and I could hear every noise in my neighborhood.
One noise got to me though and I knew for sure a critter --- raccoon or Heaven forbid, a skunk--- was lurking outside. Did I mention my backyard borders a huge cornfield?
Oh my goodness. I had flashlight and I also double checked that Rod, aka Papa, had his cell phone by his head in our bed.
I opened the tent windows and looked for the critter.
No four-legged critter out there but my Brittany, Jade, who took up her post by her gate at the kennel to watch over us.
But the scraping and bumping was loud now. I realized it was coming from the playhouse. Rod and our sons built a playhouse 27 years ago in our backyard. It stands on stilts and a swing is attached.
In late June I discovered a nest in the playhouse. Pigeons had made the playhouse their home. I, um, promised pigeons they would not get evicted. I thought they would be out at the end of July.
So I googled pigeons on my new phone. Pigeons do not leave their nest until they are two months old! I am afraid of all of the poop I'm going to have scrub in September.
So, I'm going to sleep. It's now midnight. Tent door flap opens. I jump up screaming what the? And it's Miss 2, making a bathroom run.
Finally sleep hits me at 2 a.m. I'm awakened at 2:30 by someone poking my face. It's Miss 4. She's 2. And she's seeing if I"m alive or something. I get her back to sleep finally around 3:30.
At 6 a.m. Mother Nature wakes me up.
I know from the past, if I don't hit the shower before the tykes wake up, I won't see a shower until Sunday.
Saturday was a blast as the kids chose their pancake design created by Papa, then blasted each other with squirt guns I bought for $1 a piece. They love running through sprinklers and eating a picnic lunch under our Aunt Eliza tree.
They also love spending the Saturday afternoon taking naps, splashing in the tub, reading books, watching a movie or playing in the toy room.
When they go home, I feel like crying because I already miss their sweet little hugs and their faces. I think "Gosh, I made it!"
And the next sleepover is four more weeks away. I'm so glad my children allow their children to come hang out with us. Yes, it's work. Yes, it's a challenge. Yes, I could spend my time doing....nothing better.

July and random thoughts

It's July. Hot, warm and of course, sunny. Most days anyway.
I had this thought in June I'd work on improving my thinking by following a program of assigned topics. Well, like most projects that are not thought out well, it sunk or stunk. Whichever. Whatever.
So here it is July. My self-esteem is OK. I'm OK. My thinking is OK. After all, I'm 52 and yes, I can improve, but I need to learn to just frankly, be happy with me. How hard is that?
Of course life gets crazy. I mean, husband thinks we need to improve physically and wants to go for long bike rides. I don't mind long bike rides as long as we have time and I'm not feeling like I'm running a race.
My son ran a race. Actually a marathon in Ogden. He ran it in 3 hours and 19 minutes. That's like really fast. He was hoping to run it in 3 hours and 10 minutes. He was upset with himself. I understand he didn't meet his goal, but hey, 3 hours and 19 minutes is amazing! And even more amazing when you learn he ran cross country in high school and almost always came in last.
And my youngest daughter and her husband moved into my house this past week. It's nice to have someone in the house, especially since Rod will be gone a lot this summer with church stoff. But I'm sure by the time they move into their cute home in Roy (and it is cute) they will want their own space.
Space is something they won't have this weekend. The grandkids are coming for the monthly sleepover. It's a week late because I worked this past weekend. We are planning on running through the sprinkler and chopping down ice cream bars. The following weekend is Harry Potter movie for me and my adult children, plus their spouses.
I wish we could get the boat out, but life happens. Last year we got it out once and it died in the middle of Willard Bay with the entire gang inside the boat. We had too many people in the boat and the park ranger was not happy with us.
I did get the Goldwing licensed and registerd this past week so Rod has no excuse for a long ride soon.
I need to finish some of my crochet and knit projects. I hate having bags of unfinished projects with lots of yarn sitting in cupboards and shelves yearning to be created into something.
Naturally summer means I need to read. And I have a new phone and discovered something really cool....Kindle AP! And free books, like The Book of Mormon, Secret Adversary by Agatha Christie, The man who knew too much, by G.K. Chesterton and The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, are now on my phone!
Too cool! Really!

Days 8 through 17 or in other words Life.

I've really blown it. I've managed to NOT blog for almost eight days. Why?
Life.
It's that simple. Work has been nuts.
So just in case you're interested the topics range from: learning new things, making friends, doing things I liked to do as a kid, getting more spiritual, getting more sleep and getting rid of one bad habit.
Well, I started saving. I have $100 set aside. It was supposed to be for um, nothing in particular.
But naturally I know have a goal to save up for.
My daughter wants me to go to Disneyland with her and her family this fall. So I'm going to save for a goal.
Saving for a goal is fun. I prefer that.
As for getting more sleep, it depends on the day and life.
Doing things I did as a kid includes going for bike rides. I love going on bike rides. I also love laying on the grass or in a hammock and just watching clouds or reading a book.
Getting more spiritual, well, that's ongoing.
And getting rid of one bad habit. Haven't decided.
But today is special because 24 years ago I met my youngest. She is a beautiful, fun, smart woman now. Then she was a wrinkled, five pound 4 ounce little thing with lots of fuzzy hair.
Let's let the weekend begin!
I'm going biking.

Day 7, which was supposed to be Tuesday

It's Wednesday. Took a quick look at the blog topic and almost lost it. It is about cleaning up my diet.
So when I'm stressed I like to eat Spaghetti-Os and cheese. I also like mac/cheese. I love pasta and cheese in any form. I don't eat a lot of it, except when I do cook it, then I eat a lot.
Also I like to guzzle Mountain Dew when I'm on a writing frenzy. It seems to help ease my stress. I know I should drink more water.
I do love a bowl of ice cream, preferably vanilla.
I know I need to eat more veggies and fruit. I really don't like fruit that much. I do eat a banana every morning and I'll put blueberries on my p&j sandwich when I have it the house.
Fresh veggies aren't my favorite, but I force myself to eat them every day because I know it is good for me. I also know if I cave into my cravings and eat the food I really like and ignore the other, I could end up with heart problems and weight problems like my older relatives.
Yes, I'm lucky I can still get into the jeans I bought five, six, eight years ago. So I will try to eat better and exercise more and drink more water and be happy.

Day 4, 5 and 6

Note: I do not get on the computer on the weekends unless it is to look up a recipe or directions. I try to disconnect myself as much as possible.
So I read what Day 4 was, which would have been Saturday and it said to write about when I feel most pressured what would I think about so I can relax.
The times I'm most pressured include deadlines at work. As a newspaper journalist those deadlines can get ugly, especially on breaking news today. It's so different than it was 20 years ago when I entered the job market or even 12 years ago when I went back full time. Then I didn't worry about Facebook, Twitter or even the Internet. The most important thing was to get the story, get it right and then hope you were the first to break it when the paper was published the next day. Now you hope you're the first five minutes after everything breaks and you hope you're accurate.
I try to breath. That is what President Gordon B. Hinckley of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints told me to do when I was interviewing him about eight years ago. I was hyperventilating during the interview and he just said calmly, "Loretta, breath."
Then I think of the things I like to do and pretend for a minute I'm doing that, like biking or going for a walk or crocheting.
The fifth day topic is one I won't write about. Frankly my sex life is no one's business. Period.:)
The sixth day is one I love. What would I read if I could sit down? Which classics? What would you find on my nightstand, bookshelves or even on the tables in my living room?
I have a number of Agatha Christie books I love to read. I also have a number of the books on CDs I listen to on my way to and from work to help me relax. I have found a new author, Elizabeth Lowell, who is really good. I love how she weaves art into murder, spies and intrigue and also how she sets her stories, not in London, Los Angeles or even New York, but the west, like Utah and Arizona.
Classics I would love to read again include Jane Eyre and Charles Dickens.
I also love Dr. Seuss. Any of his books. Yes, I read them to myself many times, now that my children have bought me the books (so I can read them to my grandchildren.)
I love to read books about World War II. I also like Nero Wolf mysteries as well. And I do have lots of books on CDs, including Harry Potter series, because I like listening to good books while I'm cleaning house, gardening, walking the dog, crocheting or driving around for work or self.
And yes, I love reading the Bible, especially the New Testament, and the Book of Mormon. Alma is one of my favorite books in the Book of Mormon.

3rd Day to Happier me -- Don't procrasinate

What are the five things I've been meaning to do and haven't done ---yet?

1. Clean my laundry room.


2. Go through my clothes and actually get rid of things I honestly don't wear.


3. Clean the garage.


4. Weed my flower gardens.


5. Save $10,000.

OK, according to the journal thingee I'm following I should now list the concrete steps I'm going to take to accomplish the last one because it is the hardest thing for me to accomplish.

OK, I've saved quite a bit in my 401k. I have put money in my all nine of my grandchildren's accounts every month now for years. Put for me to have a personal savings account.

First let's take about why I cannot/won't save money for me. Do I think I'm not worth it? Or do I just plain enjoy spending the bucks on myself and others?

In order for me to save $10,000 in a year's time: I would have to salt away almost $200 a week.

So maybe I should bring the amount down a bit: Let's save $5,000 in a year.

I can try to do that. I can put $50 aside every other week and $150 aside every other week.

I will have to not spend money on silly things, like the cutest T-shirts on clearance or extra snacks.

I will let you know how I do let's see by July 3. I will make the third of each month my reporting date.

Now to the flower gardens:

Yes, GARDENS. Several years ago I decided I wanted to try my hand at planting flowers. At first everything went nice and looked great. But now the lilies have overtaken the front garden and grass has invaded my roses. This will require me to get on my hands and knees and pull. Also a shovel. So next week I'll let you know how I did. OK, next Friday, June 10.

The garage is a bit trickier. I'd just haul a bunch of that stuff away, except Rod has stored most of the stuff in there. So first chance I get, I'm moving the cars out of the way, vaccum and sweep. Maybe pull some of the stuff out from under the stairs and, yes, toss it.

I'm not exactly a horder, but I do hord. You can tell by looking at my laundry/sewing/yarn room. I need to think on how to make that room look better.

As one wise woman told me, an elephant is eaten one bite at a time.

Day 29 for emotionally happier me!

Venting part 2: This is a 30-day series to help improve me mentally and physically. Let's see how this works in 30 days or if I can keep up with it.:)
My support system is the topic today. I do have a fairly good support system, but sometimes I do feel alone facing my dragons and demons.
Being alone is scary. Feeling alone is even more frightening to me. I can be in a room with a ton of people who I know love me and/or respect me and I feel as if there is no one to talk to. Many times those are the times when my guests, usually family members, want to visit with each other and play games.
Because of my childhood, I have few real friends. I know there are people in the community and neighborhood who are friends, but I don't feel like there are any real friends. Few, if any call, just to see if I'm alive. Rarely do I get a call to join a book club or go for a walk or shopping or out to lunch. I do have one friend who does make it a point to call me once a month and we go to lunch. She's really sick right now and it will be at least a month before we go to lunch and laugh at silly things.
If I do want to do something with someone I make the phone calls and invite.
So get over it, I tell myself. At least people are willing to join me most of the time.
My mom was divorced when I was five. We moved to a small Utah town, where divorced, working women were looked down upon, therefore, their children were considered bad influence upon other children. Instead of inviting me and my sisters into their homes and caring for us, we were shunned and left on our own.
I think that is why I always tried to keep the door open for my children's friends, no matter who they were or what their family circumstances were. I didn't know until years later, our home was a refuge for two children whose parents were going through a rough patch.
Anyway, mom remarried. He wouldn't allow friends over very much and definitely wouldn't allow us to go to a friend's house. He was a control freak with a lot of other issues.
But I know I can call my sisters and we can talk about stuff. I also know I can talk to my husband about stuff. He is my best friend. Only a few times have I had a major break down in the middle of the day while he was at work and he has been there, either on the phone, or one time, in his office (after I dropped off our children at a safe location), when I've lost it. When I say I've lost it, it's like crying, can't get control of my emotions and feeling more than overwhelmed with life.
It was one friend who told me her favorite phrase in the Bible is "This too shall pass" and it usually does and that is why God made rainbows.
So I've taken that and say, "Get over it," when I'm feeling alone. I'm not alone. I have you, my friends, who read this. I have you, my family, who reads this. And most importantly, I have me.
Me, who generally smiles and is ready to take on the world.
So if you want to go for a walk, out to lunch, shopping or just come over and crochet, read a book or just hang out, call or email me. I'd love to be part your support system!

Venting

Anyone who knows me knows I love to vent. I love to vent about everything and anything. I think that is why I like Maxine, the comic strip old woman. She loves to complain.

What do I like to complain about? I like to complain about how unorganized I am, how much weight I've gained in the past five years (OK, I can hear the "Oh please. Get real" from my friends). Granted it's only 10 pounds, but hey, it's 10 pounds and I have a bit of a round tummy that is evidence.

I also like to complain about all the people who honestly think I can solve their problems and make everything nice again because I'm a reporter. Trust me. I get phone calls and emails daily from people who really think I have some influence over judges, police officers, attorneys, city/county/state and federal officials. Many of them call me as a last resort. I'm the "media" so somehow I should be able to fix the problem by putting it out there for the public to read. What they don't realize is I'm not a superhero.

I'm me. Loretta. Wife. Mom. Grandma. Sister. Auntie. Daughter. Cousin. Niece. Friend. Reporter.

Notice, the label reporter is way down on the list. Me is up front.

I also lately like to whine about the weather. And it's not whether or not I should drink wine. Sorry I couldn't resist.

For those who don't live in Utah, rain has been constant for the past couple of months. We get a day of sunshine and then the clouds roll right back in and well, my back yard resembles a pond. The garden is waterlogged.

I'm not a rain person. I'm a desert rat. I learned this every time I've traveled to places where rain is a constant. I can't wait to get back to dry, dusty Utah.

I do like some rain. One of my favorite memories is taking a nap on my Grandma Dunn's couch when I was about 4 years old and listening to the rain fall on her tin roof that covered the back porch. It was one of the few times in my life I felt at peace.

OK, back to whining, complaining, venting, screaming, being generally ticked off. There's a whole list of things I could howl about,, but then you'd all complain I'm whining, belly aching or , griping too much.

So today my biggest complaint is trying to be the superhero I know I'm not. Really. I'm trying to investigate a story that could have some serious consequences. I know I will be going up against some big guns (men with lots of power, real guns, etc.) and it does scare me a tad --- just a tad. I actually like to tackle this stuff because it's just me, all 130 pounds, 5 feet 5 inches, 52 years old of me taking on the world.

So I'm going to head to the comic store I wrote about Tuesday, and buy a Batman action figure for my grandson and put it away for his 3rd birthday in September. It comes with Catwoman. Don't tell him. It's a secret.

Already I'm feeling like a Superhero! Superhero Gramala! Coming to save the day! (Which Superhero is that?)

Life

Today I'm working on a story that is breaking my heart. It will run this weekend.
But it doesn't help a dear man, who I admired professionally, passed away on Monday. I wrote that story on Tuesday and it ran Wednesday. Steve Hill did so much for the children in this community. He loved teachers. He loved students.
And I'm just in whine mode. I really need day or two where I can just sit in the sun and read books. I need to find a good book I haven't read yet. But I will feel lazy and I will find something to do, like prune my roses. They really need to be pruned. And thin out my lilies. They really need thinning. Or putting away my winter sweaters, skirts, pants and boots. They need to disappear and the sandels, short sleeve T-shirts and cotton pants and skirts need to come out. Or just scrub out a kitchen cupboard or two or three or four. It's been a long winter.
I've been extra grumpy too. Poor Rod. He has to put up with extra grumpy. My poor coworkers and boss. They've had to put up with extra grumpy.

Where has the time gone?

Where has the time gone? My husband's birthday came and went. Thanksgiving came and went. Christmas skidded through and then came the New Year. I ended up covering the Utah Legislature and gave thanks for my regular beat, cops and courts. And here it is April. Almost the end of April and it's still lousy weather. I know only Heavenly Father is in charges of the weather, but I sure wish He'd decide to let it get a tad warmer and drier. I really want to put away my winter clothes. Besides when I'm feeling down and out, I tend to spend more than I should.
Speaking of spending, I love spending money on my grandkids. Saturday I hosted a wedding shower for a young woman who grew up in my area. I showed our guests this cool book I bought at the Capitol's gift shop during the Legislature. It is a dinosaur pop up book. Turns out, I'm behind the times. The author of the book is very well-known and has created many pop up books, including a Star Wars, Harry Potter, Magical Creatures and Super Heroes, that are way too cool and Amazon sells them. Trust me. They're cool. Grandkids love them.
I love my job also, most days. I love writing about people and the choices they make. I love writing about events. I love tryng to find out stuff also. I do hate what people do though, like hurt each other and small children.
I love my children and their spouses. Easter was fun this past weekend. I had all the families make a salad and share it on Easter Sunday with the turkey I cooked. I'm amazed at how much easier the kitchen was to clean when they shared, instead of me using every pan I own to cook an entire meal for everyone. I don't mind though. I love to cook and bake. Sometimes though I do get stressed and just want to cry.
Crying.....I figure I will always cry. I don't need a reason. I just cry. I don't always feel like I'm measuring up to a mark that society/people/or I have set. I am disappointed in myself a lot lately.
I just want it to get warmer so I can go get a fancy pedicure, go ride my bike and prune the roses. Maybe even take a nap in my hammock.