Adjusting without Jade

Meet my dog Jade, probably the last dog who will be part of my every day life. She entered my life in April of 2000. I walked into Davis Animal Shelter looking for a dog for my boss and came across this gorgeous Brittany Spaniel, who was left there because the owner didn't realize Brittany's bounce. 

Jade was the third Brittany Spaniel who was part of our family. She passed away on Feb. 28, 2014, at the age of 15 1/12 years old. She was beginning to forget who we were and sometimes would snap at us. She did recognize her leash and knew that red leash meant it was time for a walk. She loved walks and runs. And she could go on forever, even if that meant one mile. They bounce, they run, they jump, they are just full of activity and love, love, love their humans.

My daughter, Terra Cooper, took these photos on Christmas Eve. I cherish these photos. I wish I had photos like this with my other dogs; Jancy, Josie and Buffy. I love dogs. They give you a reason to get out of bed early every day. They wag their bodies when you come home from work and bark for you to give them loves. 

I loved watching Jade run after her Pheasant. Other dogs have balls. Jade had Pheasant. She could chase that thing all day long and would carry it around, even though as she got older it made her mouth sore. 

One more time...please. 

I miss her. 

Dinner, paramedics and pancreas

Sunday was the family dinner. I cook and bake for my children, their families, my mom, Rod's mom and my sister-in-law, at least once a month. That is usually 24 people.  I love it. I admit. It's stressful, but it's rewarding. In the summer I try to find recipes I can do on our barbecue. This Sunday was no exception.
I decided to rotisserie a chicken and a pork loin roast. I also cooked 10 pounds of roasted potatoes in two crock pots. And I baked the most amazing rolls, if I must say so, and two peach pies. I spent about five hours getting everything ready. The food was really yummy. My guests were entertaining and I felt as if the evening was a huge success.
I also drive to Ogden to get my mom from the assisted living place for these dinners. So she is my first guest to arrive and my last one to leave. 
On my way home, I began experiencing pain in my chest and my left arm went numb. I am driving and thinking, "This is heartburn." But the pain continued and wouldn't go away and was becoming intense. 
I said a prayer and thought,"If I get home, I will be OK." 
But I kept thinking I should pull over and I thought, "No, I don't want to. I don't want."
I tried moving my arm over my head in my car to move the "bubble." 
When I got home I thought once I walk around the pain will go away.
But it got worse. It knocked me on my butt. Rod wasn't home. He was out doing bishop stuff. When he got home, I was on the couch, crying. The pain was so bad. I thought it was my heart. It wasn't anything like I read about. He gave me an antacid and aspirin.
The decision was made to call for paramedics. Now, I was coherent enough to ask him not to call 911, but to just call Davis County Sheriff's Dispatch. I don't know why. I mean, looking back, he should have just called 911, especially if it was my heart. Silly me. 
Anyway, the paramedics showed up from the sheriff's office and from North Davis Fire District. The firemen come with an ambulance. 
Before they arrived, Rod was on the phone with the dispatcher and also picking up the toys scattered by grandkids. It made me laugh and that hurt, physically, not emotionally. I mean, why worry about our mess? 
Anyway, as they poked and prodded at me they said my heart looked good, but  I was still in pain. could barely stand up. 
One of the paramedics was worried that I would kick him out of my house because he yelled at me at a fire I covered several weeks ago. He yelled at me because I was in the way of the hoses. He was dong his job. No worries. 
Anyway, I end up  transported by ambulance with paramedics who kept making me laugh, even though I was in pain, and in the emergency room at 11 a.m. and for the next four hours, I was poked, prodded, heart checked and X-rayed.
Turns out my pancreas was infected. I hate to admit it, but I had no clue where my pancreas lived in my body until early Monday morning. And infected pancreas can cause pain in the chest, not just in the abdomen area.
Now I'm home. Drinking liquids. Taking meds. No food until Wednesday.
I saw my regular doctor Monday. It looks like I may have to change my diet. Less meat, more vegetables. Less fatty foods (ice cream, cream cheese, etc), and more healthy foods. I'm not too happy about that. But I'm alive.
Besides this weekend is the sleepover with my grandkids. I love having them over more than they like coming. Also one of my sisters-in-law is getting married. Not the one I cook for, another. I really want to be there.

Summer

It's is so hot outside.
Almost unbearable.
And there are fires. I've covered two in two weeks. That's nothing. The fires I've gone to any other time of the year would've been big deals, but in the context of all the wildfires that have happened in the past three weeks, they're minor league.
Fires tend to make you smell as if you've been camping. It doesn't matter that you have to go into the office. The fire doesn't care. It makes you smell.
And then it makes your clothes smell. And when you go home, the fire smell makes the clothes in the hamper smell, so the room where the hamper is will also smell and the smell goes on, until you can get the clothes cleaned.
It's so hot outside.
Almost unbearable.
And there's the plants in pots and the flowers in beds that need water. Lots and lots of water. Not like once every other day or so, but almost daily and if they're in pots, twice a day.
It's so outside.
Almost unbearable.
And my dog needs to go for walks, but she's upchucked every time we've gone two miles. And that's in the early morning hours. I'm concerned. She got really sick a week ago when she dumped out her water on a Saturday when it first got really outside. I thought she was going to die. But we got her to cool down, but she's not ready to walk more than two miles, let alone run.
It's so outside.
Almost unbearable.
My freezer is full of ice cream treats., like Fat Boy Sundaes. I love those.
They are my favorites.
I think I will have one tonight after I walk the dog and water the plants and wash my clothes.
Yes, I covered a grass fire today and I can smell it.

The Birds

Several weeks ago I noticed  a bird's nest in the golden delicious tree that shades my dog's kennel.
A robin pair had set up housekeeping. I have carefully guarded the robin nest from curious little grandsons who have wanted to examine it up close and personal.
Several days ago when I went outside to feed Jade, my dog, Mr. and Mrs. Robin were flying around and chirping an alarm that equalled Homeland Security. A magpie had dared attempted to steal the eggs.
Now Mr. and Mrs. Robin are vigilantes, who are staking out the kennel for intruders. Apparently I'm an intruder. I cannot even go into Jade's kennel without getting attacked.
Yup, you read it right.
Remember Alfred Hitchcock's movie, The Birds? It scared the chickens out of me.
Well, that is nothing compared to two robins who have turned into Kamikaze pilots.
I'm not kidding.
They swoop around my head, batting their wings, chirping the alarm, attempting to do me harm. Me! Their NO. 1 protector.
Hell-LO!
So tonight when I go outside to feed my dog, I'm going to be armed with an umbrella.
Why?
Beaks are one thing.
Poop is another.

Finished

For those who've been following the half-marathon saga, I just need to say "thank you." Without your support, whether it was physical or just mental I don't think I would've finished.

Yup, I finished IT!

I finished in 2 hours and 44 minutes. Not bad for a 53-year- old broad who didn't run anything but run her husband crazy three months ago.

How was the run? you ask.

Well, more than 300 people in all shapes, sizes and ages showed up. It felt overwhelming. As we started out it just amazed me how fast everyone else seemed to be running, while I jogged my way along.

Nothing can prepare you for that moment when you see your son running towards you. And I'm not talking about when he was a little guy learning to walk. This is at the 4.5 mile area and my son was running back to the finish line. I had yet to make it to the 7 mile mark. Umm. Did I say I was as slow as a turtle? Chad finished in 1 hour and 30 minutes. But there he was at the finish line, yelling, "Sprint it Mom!" I think he was getting even for all the years I've yelled that at him at the finish line.

And nothing prepares you for when a 4-year-old and 7-year-old run out to finish the last 50 yards with you. And naturally, they cross the finish line before you do, but it still made me cry.

Oh, don't get all excited. I did not run the entire 13 miles. I walked part of it. I would count to 100 or 60 or some odd number while running then allow myself to walk to a tree or fence post and then it was back to running.

How do my legs feel?

Well, I haven't worn heels this week. Not a good idea.

But I did jog/walk two miles on Wednesday. I've walked two miles on Tuesday and today, Thursday. I plan to run 4 miles on Saturday.

I'm not giving up.

I think I've found a new passion, even though I'm slow.

Four more days

In just four days I will have completed a half-marathon. What has surprised me the most on this mid-life crisis journey is the number of people who actually have read my silly posts about how far I ran and how long it took me.

Today for instance:

I called Woods Cross Police Chief Greg Butler to get information on a fatality for a short story for the newspaper. When he said how old the woman was who died, I sighed.

"You're 50 too?" he said.

"I'm 53," I said.

Then he asked me when my race was. I don't think of the event as a race. If I did that would mean I would have to run fast in order to win and I'm not going to run fast to win. I'm going to jog/run/walk and finish.

I was surprised he knew about it. He did because he's been following it on Facebook. Seriously.

I ran into people in the store and they ask. It has become a topic brought up by my neighbors.

I am overwhelmed by the support and

Scared.

What

If

I

Don't

Finish?

Seriously?

OK, I will finish. I know I will. I mean I have to. My granddaughters are expecting me to finish. My daughters and sons are expecting me to finish. My husband said he knows I will finish. My daughters-in-law believe I will finish. My sons-in-law will be there.

And my cousin Beth Dunn Harringtonsaid she will be there.

She's taking up walking and I'm really proud of her. I've been following her progress too and she's amazing.

Oh, I learned something today.

It seems yoga will make your body produce noises.

I didn't know that. I thought it was something I ate. Changed my diet several times.

You see, I do yoga to warm up my body before I run/jog/walk.

And for the first 15 minutes I'm running/jogging bodily noises happen. I've been very grateful to jog only with my dog, Jade.

Well, now I know. Seems I'm bending them out of me.:)

Hills do not sing.

Well, five Mondays from now I hope I have finished the half-Marathon in Syracuse. But for now, I'm training and it's one of the hardest task I've undertaken.

I know, what doesn't kill us will only make us stronger.

Last week I was so proud because I had managed to run for 10 minutes without stopping. But then I agreed, in a moment of weakness, to jog/walk the 9 miles on the training schedule with Ann, my daughter-in-law, who is running, not jogging or walking, in the half-marathon also.
I also agreed, bless me soul and soles, to run in Pleasant View, where she lives, happily with my son and my beautiful grandchildren. Pleasant View is a pleasant place with lots of views because it is next to the mountains, or more accurately, in the foothills. I live in West Point, which is west of the mountains, close to the Great Salt Lake. The topography of the two areas are as different as night is to day.
My training the past several weeks has happened on relatively flat routes, with elevation changes no more than 30 feet  in one mile. I thought I was prepared. I thought I was Rocky. I was ready to take Ann on. Did I mention she is 20 years younger than me?
Saturday morning arrived early.
First mistake: I didn't get to bed Friday night until 12:10 a.m. which was technically, Saturday morning.
The alarm went off at 5:30 a.m. I ate some breakfast, read my Book of Mormon and then noticed I was already late to get to Ann's house, which is 30 minutes away.
Once I got there, slightly before 7 a.m., we spent a few minutes doing some yoga stretches. I should have spent a good 20 minutes stretching, but my mind was racing with my Saturday schedule. I had laundry to do. Groceries to buy. A cake to bake for my oldest granddaughter. Sunday dinner stuff to get ready for the family. A house to clean for my special Sunday guests --- my children and grandchildren.
So second mistake: I was stressed out before I started stretching and running, which makes running not fun.
Then Ann and I headed out of her house, straight up the hill to the route, which was supposed to be flat.
The route, we later learned from my GPS MapMyFitness.com app on my phone (Did I mention I love, love, love my phone and its apps?) has an elevation change of almost 300 feet in the first 1.5 miles. My legs were dead at the half mile mark.
But I continued. I endured. I did not require oxygen, although I would have sucked up any that was offered. I walk/jogged the 9 miles on paved and gravel paths, with Ann say, "Good job! You're doing great!" (One more "great" and I had visions of grating her.) When we were done, I did not need a paramedic or my son, the nurse practioner. I needed a shower and liquids --- lots. I wanted a pillow and a bed, also, but that was not in the cards.
This morning as I hauled my whatever out of bed, every single muscle in my body and my legs protested. 
"Are you kidding?" they screamed as I pushed myself  to run 4 miles this morning. It took me 52 minutes, instead of 40 minutes, which I did last week.
I shall endure. I shall make it. 
But just in case I don't, have the really cute paramedics available, please.

Half-Marathon

Spring. I pulled out some of my spring clothes and .....well..... the scales were unfortunately accurate. I had added a few extra pounds over the winter to my waistline. I got back to serious work outs.
Then something happened. I was just talking. You know, talking to two of my daughters and Rod while they ate dinner, and said how impressed I was with Chad, our son, who had signed up for his third marathon.
Wow. He's running his THIRD marathon. His first one was in 2010. His second on was last year and now, at age 30, he's running in July in Morgan with the last five miles uphill.
"I wish I could do that," I thought, or so I thought I thought.
Nope, IT came out of my mouth. My daughters laughed. Sadly so did the voices in my head from the past also laughed and scorned the idea of me running or jogging.
But My Rod, the love of my life, said, "You can do anything. You ought to give it a try."
OK, for those who have heard me say, "I don't run, I walk," I want you to know the following morning, I put on my sneakers, used MapMyFitness App on my phone and ran/jogged/walked two miles.
Now Saturday morning, this Saturday morning, I'm going to jog/walk seven miles while listening to assorted music from Pandora and welcoming the MMF app voice every three minutes. This nice woman says, "Your total distance is..." "Your total time is...". I just love to hear that woman's voice in my head! She is so encouraging.
Two weeks ago, I looked for a race and found one. I decided to put my money and feet where my mouth is and I've signed up to run to help abused children. Proceeds from the event goes to counseling for the children.
So I hope to see you in Syracuse on Monday, May 27, when I jog/walk/ (possibly crawl) my FIRST half-marathon! I am suspecting my finish will be towards the end. It starts at 6:45 a.m. and so I think 8:45 a.m. I should be at Jensen Park. If I get there sooner, boy, I will be pumped!
Thank you, Rod, for believing in me. Thank you, Terra and Jennica, for your support (now you stopped laughing:) and thanks to Ann, my daughter-in-law, who thought I said, "Will you run with me?" when I said, "Will you cheer for me?" She's training too. And thank you, Chad, who is an inspiration.
To see the route Ann and I are jogging. go to  http://www.stridersrunning.com/. It's the Memorial Day Half-Marathon. I'm really excited...most of the time.
Oh, and the spring clothes: They fit. :)

Mortality

Mortality hit me this week. The day before Valentine's, the uncle of my two oldest kids,(techically my stepkids) died of a massive heart attack. Unexpected, it was. He was 53. My age. His birthday was in June. Mine is in September.


I mean, I know of people my age who have died. But they have been sick with cancer or something, so it was not unexpected. But Tony's death was unexpected. I guess what shocked me more was he died three weeks after his dad died. His dad, Reid, had been sick for awhile, but no one knew what was wrong until just after Christmas. He had ASL or Lou Gehrig's disease. He died within a week of the diagnosis.


So I'm feeling like my number could come up. It will, but not for a few more decades. I've got the "I will live until I'm 90" genes, unless something awful happens, like cancer. My daughters have asked their dad not to croak before I do. They say they don't want to deal with a crazy, old woman, but would rather deal with a funny, old man.


Anyway, I was feeling old before these two men died. I was writing the birthdays and ages of my children and grandchildren in the 2012 calendar that hangs on my wall. I cried when I realized my oldest grandson will be 18 this year and graduate from high school in 2013. My youngest grandson will be 2 this October. My oldest child, (OK, don't get technical on me. I raised him), will be 39 and my youngest child (this one I gave birth to) will be 25. Rod will be two years away from 60.

Rod laughed at me when he came in the house that Saturday and found me in tears. I said my grandchildren will be all grown and gone before too long. He said, not for another 10 years or so, and even then great-grandchildren may join us for the monthly sleepovers.


Technically, we are young compared to our ancestors. Rod's relatives have all managed to live well past 90 and some past 100. And most have continued doing the things they love to do, like farming, construction, sewing, reading, traveling and hosting parties for their grandchildren.

So here's to the future. :)

Being alone

My foreign exchange student went to Hawaii for the week. It's part of her private school program. I knew there was something wrong with public schools. I think more high school students would stay in school if they knew a trip to Hawaii was part of the curriculum in the middle of January. I mean, let's look at this.

Let's pretend I'm 16 years old. My school offers a week long trip to Hawaii in the middle of January. Should I stay home in Utah where temperatures are expected to drop below freezing? Or should I get the funds, board that plane and jump into a swimsuit as soon as possible?

Umm.

I think that is called a no-brainer.

She's going to be back Friday at noon.

Now you'd think with a whole week I'd have an empty house. You'd think I would plan my life better.

Nope. Not I.

Clarissa left on Saturday. But the night before I watched two of my grandsons so their parents could go out. Due to circumstances beyond their control, they did not get back by 9 p.m. like they thought. At 10 p.m. the two little guys, ages 17 months and 4 years, were sound asleep. At 10:15 p.m. I texted my son and my daughter-in-law and told them we'd keep the boys until 10 a.m. Saturday. I mean, it would be cruel to wake them up and drag them out into the cold just to go back to sleep at their house? Never mind, Ben had taken over my pillow and blankie. (Yes, you read that right. I have a blankie. Don't ask.)

After I got Clarissa to her school at 11 a.m. Saturday, Rod and I grabbed Jennica's boarder. She has a woman from China living with her. May is a teacher at Jennica's school.

We took May to the gun range and let her shoot to her heart's content.

On Sunday, my gang came over for dinner. I planned this dinner not realizing it would be the first and last Sunday Rod and I would have by ourselves for a while. But they all brought cookies and left them, which explains the extra five pounds I've gained this week..

Monday I invited Jennica and Ty over for dinner and games. Oh, by the way, I love Sequence, but alas. I'm not too good at it. It seems I don't see the winning sequence that could be played.

Then on Tuesday, Jennica came over for scones and almost ran over me. Could you see the headline? "Mom ran over by daughter in own driveway." OK, I was wearing my work clothes. They are dark. But I was walking in my driveway from the mailbox. Lucky for me, she had slowed down before whipping into the driveway.

Wednesday, I bought dinner and took it over to Terra's. She was sick. Her boys were sick. She needed a moment.

Tonight should be a night all alone with Rod.

Did I mention I was married to a bishop?

Yup. He's busy tonight. And Clarissa comes home at noon Friday.

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

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