Blues Friday

Ok, honestly, does it get any better than Miss Etta James, Miss Chaka Kahn, and Mr B.B King?? I wish I was more than 4 years old when this show happened. I would've stood in line all night to go. Can you imagine? Here's to a soulful Friday!!



On a side note, this reminds me of the time I went to Memphis and that old man kept calling me "Snowflake" and telling me I don't know anything about the blues... Cracks me up, everytime.

In the Summer of 2010 I had the fabulous opportunity to visit some areas of Washington State I had never been to. My grandmother had passed away the previous May, and we went as a family to bury her with my grandpa.

My dad had grown up in the rural areas of Washington, and so it was fun to be with him as he relived some of those memories and showed us around. Growing up a Utah girl, I've always had a soft spot for the country. I love rolling hills of crops, quaint farmhouses, and the smell of fresh air and manure. I'm sure you're wrinkling your nose, but there's just something about being in open country that is just so soothing for your soul. I treasure the memories we made on that trip, as it was the last roadtrip our family was able to go on (minus my brother and sister in law, whom live across the country and were not able to go).

I fell in love with the tiny town of Waitsburg, Washington. It lies on a stretch of highway between Walla Walla, Washington and Dayton, Washington, with Walla Walla being the bigger of the two. Don't blink, or you might miss it. It's gorgeous!

Seriously, how can you resist this?

                                                                          {Via}

I told you, GORGEOUS! Now don't get me wrong, I love city livin'. I love having access to diverse cultural events and art museums. I love downtown sushi nights and film festivals in stilettos. But again, there is just something unlike the country. I would love, love, love to  have a little farmhouse on two acres to grow my carrots and cabbage and have some chickens. It would need to have a side house, of course, so I could have my art studio out there to house my creative space.

Doesn't that sound like heaven??

12 Days of Easter

Happy Monday!!

So, late last week I was hanging out with my best friend Pinterest and saw a pin my cute cousin Summer posted about an activity called the "12 Days of Easter". Since I've been looking for ways to focus my life more on Christ and our Heavenly Father, this caught my eye.

The instructions were listed in a blog post here, over on the Family Volley blog. It is an Easter activity intended to help children learn the meaning of Easter, but I'm pretty sure it could be adapted to help us adults get back to basics. Maybe I'll spring this on my mom....OR I could do it like the 12 days of Christmas for my visiting teaching ladies..the possibilities are endless!

So, without further adieu, I give you the 12 Days of Easter.

                                                                           Via

The 12 Days of Easter.

Day 1
Matthew 26:26-27, 39
(A piece of bread or a sacrament cup)

Day 2
Matthew 26: 14-15
Zechariah 11:12-14
(3 Dimes to represent the 30 pieces of silver)

Day 3
Matthew 27:1-2
(Knotted Twine)

Day 4
Matthew 27:15, 17, 21, 24-26
(Chunk of Hand Soap)

Day 5
Matthew 27:28-30
Mark 15:16-17
(Square of red or purple fabric)

Day 6
Matthew 27:31-32
(Small Nail)

Day 7
Matthew 27:35
(Dice-representing casting lots)

Day 8
Matthew 27:50-51, 54
(Crushed Rocks)

Day 9
Matthew 27:57-60
(Strips of White Cloth)

Day 10
Matthew 27:60, 62-66
(Small Flat Stone)

Day 11
Mark 16:1, 2-6
(Bay Leaf or other Herb)

Day 12
Matthew 28:5-6
(Empty because HE IS RISEN!)

Materials12 Plastic Easter Eggs
Permanent Marker
12 Small Strips of Paper (12 more optional)
(Small items listed below)

What to do
1. With your permanent marker, write the numbers 1-12 on each of the plastic eggs. 

2. Prepare your strips of paper.
*12 of the strips will have scripture references on them, listed below.
*The other 12 will have a very short explanation of the scripture. You don't have to include this, but I am putting them in for our 6 year old who is all about reading right now.

3. Round up your small items (listed in parentheses).


What a great idea, right? As mentioned above, I think this is a good way to get back to basics if you don't have kids, and is a great teaching tool if you do! And what better way to really remember the meaning of Easter this year?

Let me know if any of you do this, I'd love to hear how it turns out.

Friday Fun Day

Woo! This warm weather has me itchin' for spring something fierce!! I'm torn, though. I really, really ADORE spring, but.....I hate summer. I hate being sweaty, and I don't love seeing all the "Duck" skirts, as my parents call them. Duck skirts. You know, they're so short they're an inch below your "quack"! Anyway, they're gross.

Anyhoo, as I mentioned, this weather has got me feelin' spring. And what's the best about Spring?! Skirts!! Not business skirts. Fun, floofy, spring skirts! I've been on the prowl for awhile looking for some new ones, and they are seriously lacking in the big girl area. They're all gnarly looking, or have weird tiers. Not into it.

Then, magically delicious, I remembered this tutorial from the super cute blog Freshly Picked. I saw awhile back. My cute friend Nadja over at My Koo Kloset made this super cute basic black skirt based on this tutorial. Nadja is studying fashion design and makes most of her clothes. Super jealous of her skill. I can sew, but I usually get frustrated with the machine and throw a fit, so I tend to avoid it. However, with the current "skirtuation", desperate times call for desperate sewing. But, this tutorial is so well written and basic that I think I have a fighting chance.

Here's a quickie pic of the finished skirt from Freshly Picked:

Adorable, right? It has POCKETS!!!


I can't wait to try it so I can sashay around town in it with a super cute cardigan. I love cardigans. I think I have an addiction....

I'll keep everyone updated on how it goes.....

Service

So, I was going to post Recent Update #2, since the original was getting mega long and I wanted to tell the story of a harrowing experience I had two Sundays ago. It involved a canyon road, being trapped, and, in all seriousness, thinking I was going to die.

BUT....

This is so much more uplifting!!

Drum Roll, please. I am pleased to introduce to you....Craft Hope.

Craft Hope is a non profit group that got its start in 2009 in a little town outside Austin, TX. It's a collaberative project that allows crafters of all ages and ability levels to craft for a cause.

Projects are numbered and typically run for about a month. During the month, you may send the requested handmade goods to the address provided for distribution to various charities. Their most recent project, The Littlest Warriors, focused on bags for little ones who are headed into the hospital for an extended stay. Such a hard time for parents, and I imagine that having activities to help take the littles mind off of upcoming unpleasantries without having one more thing to plan would be a huge help.  The deadline was March 12th for this project, but the info stated that another project would be coming soon. I so hope one does. Between church activities and woking full time along with full time school, I don't have as much time to serve others as I would like.

Their website was having some trouble at the time of this post, although we're assured that it will be fixed shortly. In the meantime, Craft Hope can be found on Facebook here. Bonus: You don't have to be on Facebook to view the pages. Since I'm off FB for the time being (too much time wasted!), I was worried that I couldn't participate. But I was still able to view the "Notes" section, which had all the addresses and info I needed.

What a neat way to combine two of my most favorite things in the world. Crafting, and Service for others!!

Recent Update #1

I haven't had the heart to write lately. Mostly I've been trying to keep my head above the proverbial water, and I've (mostly) succeeded. It's been an intersting switch, these last few weeks. Losing dad, moving cities, living with a parent again. To sound totally and completely cliche, I have good days and bad days. Scratch that. Good days and bad weeks. It seems that if something triggers something hard, it seems to carry over a few days. A dream about him, needing him to answer a question or deal with something that only a dad can deal with. And suddenly, I find myself snipping at everything and everyone. It's getting a tad ridiculous. For instance, this really happened the other day:

Me: "Ugh, I have to eat something with my meds so I don't get sick."
Mom: "Eat this, this or that." (Like yogurt or grapes or something.)
Me: "Blech."
Mom: "Well, try ***" (Another normally delicious option.)
Me: "Ugh, just stop. Stop. I'll just eat this semi-dry bagel thin."

Seriously? Remember the time that biting someone's head off when trying to help you is not kosher?? I feel bad about it but can't stop it while it's happening. I'm a monster!!

In all seriousness, most of the time I don't even know what the root cause is until later that day, evening, whatever I'm sitting there and I start bawling. Gosh, this grief stuff is hard going. Relying on Heavenly Father has helped, but it doesn't change the fact that as humans, we all grieve. It's hard, but it gets better.

Some of this may have to do with the fact that I have had a raging lunatic wreaking havoc on my ear canal for over a week now. What a JOY that has been. If this were the mid 90's, I would have to insert "NOT!" there. I miss the 90's.....

So a week ago Saturday, I was out shopping with my cute mom and my ear starts to hurt. Like ear infection hurt. Having grown up with those little beasts, I can typically recognize one. So I thought I would nip it in the earlobe and head over to the urgent care down the street. I thought maybe a couple antibiotics and an hour of my time would be fine. Well.........someone had other plans. After waiting about an hour to be seen (as is typical with urgent care, so no worries..) I am settled into my uber clinical cell, waiting for the practicioner. She comes in, gives me a once over, looks in my ear for a second, and tells me I absolutely do not have an ear infection. She thinks I just have some fluid in my ear behind the ear drum, "probably from swimming." I tell her I don't swim. She says from showering and tells me to buy some Mucinex, and, if it still hurts, here is a prescription for amoxycillin. After a lengthy discussion about taking antibiotics when I don't need them (I am against it, completely) she got frustrated and told me to fill it if I don't feel better after two days. I left feeling like I wasted my time, but thought I had an answer.

 I headed over to the local Walgreens to get my goods. Holy Hannahbell!! Mucinex is $15.99, AND I had to sign over my first born to Rumplestiltskin at the pharmacy to ensure him I would not make Meth with it. $30 later (what? I also had to buy nasal spray because the "doc" warned me that Mucinex was going to dry me up like a prehistoric lake. No shame in this game! Ok, and maybe I bought some treats to keep me company through this long and painful Saturday night. Don't judge.) But I thought I had my answer, so I was set. I promptly took my Mucinex, and watched Secondhand Lions for the bazillionth time. I love it. I just want to put that little Haley Joel Osment in my pocket, he's so stinkin' cute. 

Flash forward to Sunday. I wake up to a throb in my head that feels like millions of tiny gnomes have decided to celebrate Mardi Gras on my mastoid. I struggle through part of church and head home to get some rest with my newly acquired ear drops. By Monday, my cheek is super swollen. I call the clinic, and they tell me I need to come back right now. They are worried about the swelling because it isn't "normal". No kidding, Shirlock. So I talk to my team lead, tell her they want me back, and go to the clinic where I promptly wait not one, but two hours to be seen. Keep in mind this is my third visit. This time I saw the MD, not the PA, which I was grateful for. Yes, they are *almost* the same thing, except for some education...and residency....and experience. But an MD after a name puts me at ease. So after I give my account of what has happened thus far, she again tells me swelling isn't normal and looks in my ear. Then she tells me that I have an inner ear infection. Now, at this point, I am not aware that my ear canal is fully swollen shut. Yes, shut. So she tells me that I'm going to have to take different antibiotics, and that she needs to put a wick in my ear to keep my canal open and help absorb the ear drop antibiotics into my inner ear, where they need to be. She failed to tell me that it requires daily maintenance. However, she pats me on the back and sends me on my way with a prescription for Loritab and a different antibiotic. She could've sent me home with candy. All I heard was "Loritab" and I saw the sandman coming my way. All I could think was "Hallelujah, I'm gettin' some sleep tonight!!" All I wanted was this atrocious pain to go away so I could, you know, function.

However, Tuesday rolls around in all it's glory. I'm miserable. My face is now twice its size, and my ear is so swollen it no longer looks like an ear. Oh, the agony. I had now failed to sleep two nights in a row, and the Loritab was doing nothing. They might as well given me Smarties! But, I'm a trooper. I had to go back to the clinic yet again to get the devil wick removed. So, there we were. Me, the receptionist, and about 20 sick people hacking up a lung. Same routine, different day. Fourth visit in as many days, third copay. I was over it. Nothing new. When I told the PA that my face was lots bigger than it was yesterday, I was told to "deal with it" and let the antibiotics do their job. Deal with it? How about I sock you in the....nevermind. I just smiled sweetly. I made it home barely in time to start work. I managed to grit my teeth through a few student calls. I couldn't keep my voice steady through the pain, but I tried. I tried hard. I made it all the way until about 230 or so. That's when the pain hit its peak, and I had a karate movie moment. You know, the kind where there is a standstill and you know it's either going to be the bad guy or the kung fu master, but somebody ain't leaving alive. That was my moment. It was me, or the pain. Someone had to go, and I have stuff left to do in my life. That meant, Sayonara pain! Since the clinic obviously wasn't working, I decided to go to University Hospital ER. I called my mom in tears and told her I simply couldn't do it anymore. I felt bad bailing on work, but I could not make it. It simply wasn't going to happen. I was trying to wait for my bestie to come pick me up, but it was too intense. I hopped in Miss Vida and hit the road.

So, to wrap up a very long story...one CT scan, one dose of Morphine, several labs, an ENT specialist cleaning and six hours later I found myself with an answer. It was not, as had been claimed by the clinic, an Otitis Media, or inner ear infection. It was the devil mama of all ear infections, an outer ear infection. It had gone into my jaw bone a bit, but luckily had not yet moved into the Mastoid, which is where you really run into trouble. They asked me why I had not come sooner, it was serious enough that I needed help a lot quicker than I got it. I told them the clinic saga, and was met with groans.

So, after going to the doctor daily since Saturday March 3rd, I am nearly free and clear of this bad boy. I'm hoping tomorrow will end my daily specialist appointments, and that I can get back to normal life!

So that, my friends, is some drama for your mama.

"Cheap is great, Free is better."

Our family, and the world, lost one incredible man on January 29th, 2012.

My dad was full of life. I realize that people tend to say that when loved ones pass away, but it was especially true of my papi. Whether he was grumpy, happy, nervous, or giddy, you knew it because you could feel it. He had this aura around him that could change your mood in an instant, usually for the better (unless he was driving you insane). And while he definitely still exists, and is definitely still around, I will miss being able to talk to him for hours on end about anything that was bothering me. My dad and I are two peas in a pod, made from the same mold. He knew what I was thinking before I could articulate it, and he always knew what to say. And if you knew my dad, you know he would say it whether you wanted to hear it or not. He kicked my butt back on track numerous times, and told me what I needed to know whether I was ready or not. It wasn't always rosy, and we both have faults, but he always knew what to do. He could fix ANYTHING with his tools, and (usually) duct tape.

But the thing I will remember most about my dad is love. Simple, unconditional love. There was a time in my life when I was a hot mess. Seriously, a hot. mess. I drank a lot. I did crazy things. I broke my parents' hearts. I would disappear for days/weeks and not talk to my family. But eventually, I would come home to them. My dad would look like he was ready to drop kick me, but he always took me back with love. He always made sure that I knew, no matter what, that I was loved and that they were ready for me when I was. My parents never wrote me off, and never gave up. They just loved me the best way they could, and helped me remember my worth.

I think that, at times, my dad had a hard time recognizing his worth as a person, father, and child of God. He always thought he could do better, always apologized for not being this or that. He always strove to do his best for us, and always worked so hard to make sure we were taken care of. A couple of weeks ago, we were alone in his hospital room. Out of the blue he said, "I hope I've done good for you, I don't feel like I've done well for you lately." It broke my heart. I told him how the most important things in life are not material. How he gave my brother and I the most precious gifts when he taught us to live with grace, love and humor. He taught us to take care of ourselves and other people. He taught us to not take things too seriously, but to pay attention when needed. He taught us strength. He taught us how to love the Lord in our own way. And, the last six months or so especially, he taught me how to get through trials gracefully. He never complained in the hospital. Not once. He would never vocalize how he hated it, he would never say that he hated that he couldn't walk, he wouldn't utter a word about how hard it was to have nurses intruding all the time. In the ICU, when he was going through so much with multiple intrusive tests and daily dialysis, he would just say "Okay" when a nurse or doctor would tell us something else had to be done. They would tell him they were sorry, and he would say it was ok. I can't imagine the strength it took to take what he went through so gracefully. And finally, when his body could take no more, he said "Okay" for the last time.

Dad never thought he touched many lives. He never thought he really had an impact. In the week after his death, and especially during the viewing and funeral, hundreds of people came out of the woodwork to tell me about my dad. To tell me about the special moments, to tell me what influence he had on them and their lives. To tell me how much they loved him, to tell me stories of moments where he was a great man when he thought no one was looking. I found out during this time that when my dad was manager of a finance store, he would encounter older people who were attempting to get loans to pay for their medications. When he could no longer lend them money officially through the company, he would give them money out of his pocket to pay for their medications so they wouldn't have to go without. Mom only knew about some of these times, and I'm convinced that there were many more he did not tell her about. There were hundreds of moments in my dad's lifetime where he did things like this, moments where he would help someone just because. And he never understood the impact of these actions, never understood how many people loved him and were better people because of him and his guidance.

I guess the moral of his story is that we should never wait to tell someone what an impact they've had on our lives. Don't to tell someone that you appreciate them. Don't wait to express your love and gratitude to someone who has impacted your life. I'd rather be known as a mushy gushy girl than risk having someone think they are not worth anything because I never told them what they meant to me.

Most of all, don't ever forget that you matter to our Heavenly Father. Even if no one else in your life ever tells you that you matter to them, you must remember that you matter to Him. It's been said many, many times before, but the worth of souls is great in the eyes of God. I think I've quoted this before, but I adore this talk by President Dieter F. Uchtdorf. It is called "You Matter to Him". He goes into more detail about our Heavenly Father's love for us, and how we must never forget. In this talk is a section I love love love. He says:

"[N]o matter where you live, no matter how humble your circumstances, how meager your employment, how limited your abilities, how ordinary your appearance, or how little your calling in the Church may appear to you, you are not invisible to your Heavenly Father. He loves you. He knows your humble heart and your acts of love and kindness. Together, they form a lasting testimony of your fidelity and faith....

God sees you not only as a mortal being on a small planet who lives for a brief season—He sees you as His child. He sees you as the being you are capable and designed to become. He wants you to know that you matter to Him."

(Read the full message here.)

 I bear my witness that He knows our names. He knows us personally, and knows the situation of all His children. He knows what you are going through and how hard it is. He does not measure you by the world's standard, he measures you by His. If you will let Him, the spirit will shisper this to you and confirm his love. If you let Him, He will work great things in your life, and, at times, miracles. If you let Him, He will surround your life in a love greater than you have ever known. If you let Him, He will show you that you matter to Him, no matter what. I testify that we all have a worth beyond our capacity to fully understand, and that we are all important, no matter our station on earth. He loves us, all of us. We are His children, and He will never, ever let us down. Heavenly Father keeps his promises, if we will allow him to work in our lives. These things I say, in Jesus' name, Amen.