Huh?

Utah, United States
One night while tucking Abby into bed she sweetly chimed, "good night! Sleep tight! Don't let the bed bites bug you!" I like her thinking. Sometimes life bites. The trick is to not let it bug you.

Thursday, April 21, 2011

Places I Love...

Pasadena


Where to begin? How do you sum up what is special about the place you spent your entire childhood? Well, here goes.

I know some people grow up looking forward to the day they can escape their hometown. Though I haven't been an official resident since 1993 (when I got my Utah driver's license), that is not the case with me. Pasadena is a wonderful place, and though it was not my destiny to spend my entire life there, it was a great place to grow up.

The old homestead.
One of my earliest childhood memories is sitting on the front seat of my mom's white '67 Mustang with blue interior, turning on the AM radio and listening to "Windy" while heading east on the 210 freeway. No seat belt, of course. Ah, the good old days! I think one of the most beautiful stretches of freeway in the country is where the 210 turns into the 134, between Orange Grove and the San Rafael/Linda Vista exit. Not just because that is the exit to the Nicol family home, but because it is just crazy picturesque. Lush freeway plantings frame views of the Colorado Bridge, the Rose Bowl, the Arroyo Seco, the San Gabriel mountains and that cool old court building that is in all the old Pasadena paintings.
View under 210 fwy, Colorado bridge in background.

Really, if there is one word to describe Pasadena, it must be lush. Maybe I only think that now that I live in a semi-arid desert. Truly, though, when you think of what Pasadena has represented over the years- roses in winter, for example- it fits.

Pasadena found its place on the map in the early part of the 20th century when big business tycoons and other wealthy east-coasters started building winter homes there (Wrigleys, Gambles, et al). They of course hired famous architects to build their homes (Greene and Greene, Frank Lloyd Wright and their minions). Charming Victorian builds made way for Bungalows and Spanish villa-style homes, and as neighborhoods started to furnish the landscape, smaller versions of the iconic homes popped up. Homes like my  parents', built in the late 1920's, are typical of Pasadena. More building took place in subsequent decades, so the now well-established neighborhoods also have lush, established landscapes.

San Rafael Elementary School
I think most people who grow up in Pasadena- or who move there because they like it- appreciate the historic nature of the city. The public school buildings are beautiful and old. "Old Town" is a trendy business district where people spend their Friday nights milling about, enjoying the refurbished old (and made to look old) shops and restaurants. And do most city dwellers in the world care about what their city hall looks like? Pasadena City Hall is iconic to Pasadenans. I understand it has been equipped to host large weddings in the courtyard now! Not the typical scene for a city hall wedding, for sure. As high schoolers, my friends and I actually went to "hang out" around city hall at night, sometimes just to sit on the ledge of the fountain to chat.
Pasadena City Hall

I'm realizing in relating all this that when thinking about what I loved about Pasadena, the setting is inextricably connected to my memories. It is easy to get all wrapped up in the high-fallootin' charm of the city. Certainly there is more to love about Pasadena, and bearing in mind that my opinions were formed over 20 years ago (and are not necessarily high-fallootin'), here is my list of favorite things:

  • I love the damp, humid chill of Pasadena evenings.
  • I love the yummy smell of the night-blooming jasmine everywhere.
  • I love the thump of bass you hear as you drive by backyard parties.
  • I love the jogging scene around the Rose Bowl.
  • I love seeing familiar Pasadena sights regularly on the big and small screen.
  • I love that when you suggested "taco truck?" everybody knew exactly where you would find said truck.
  • I love the Norton Simon Museum and Gamble House.
  • I love the great restaurants, from Tops to Shogun.
  • I love that my personality was shaped by diverse and interesting friends and teachers, in school environments completely unique to Pasadena.
Some of my familiarity with Pasadena developed on my bike with my friend Leslie. The first day I met her I took her on like a 5 mile ride (we were in the 4th grade) and shocked her into friendship with me. We would cruise the lesser-known roads of our neighborhood, ride across the different bridges that span the Arroyo Seco, venture over to the Orange Grove side of the hood and sometimes ride down into the Arroyo itself. There was a cool casting pond down there where we collected tadpoles. Also, Robert Reed's home was a short bike ride from my house, and we would cruise it hoping one of the Brady boys would come strolling out.

Robert Reed
Another great thing about Pasadena: random obscure celebrity sightings are common. The great legend of Glen Summer Road is that Eddie Van Halen played in Jimmy Cronin's garage band next door. I was too young to appreciate their tunes, and I think my mom actually called over there once or twice to ask them to turn down the volume (snicker!). I finally met (using the word loosely) Robert Reed (rest his soul) while working at Jacob Maarse Florists. Well, I rang up his order. He was nice. I didn't get to participate in the Super Bowl half-time show with Michael Jackson at the Rose Bowl with lots of my friends, but I did see him at Magic Mountain (which is not in Pasadena. I digress.).

I didn't always love everything about school as a student, but one thing is for sure, I would be a very different person had I not attended Pasadena public schools. I dare say my perspective on the world would be different. I know the schools have changed a lot over the years, but when I was there, I had lots of amazing teachers who cared about their students and taught well. Because I was in the very diverse environment that was the PUSD, I learned about living and cooperating with people of different races and cultures. I made friends who are dear to me to this day. I know the unique influences from my growing-up years have made me the person I am today, and I'm very grateful for those influences.

Wes, self portrait at 2010 Rose Parade. Sorry for poor quality.
Finally, one cannot talk about Pasadena without mentioning The Stadium and The Parade. I never did get to go to a game, but went to the parade many times. Camped out once (it was a BLAST, but once was enough). For my friends and me, as far as we were concerned, we had ownership in those events. We were significantly tied to them, whether or not the organizers realized it. We all tried out for the Rose Court, and celebrated together when our good friend Mona became a princess. We thought we were something else for having our high school homecoming games in the Rose Bowl, and it really was thrilling to be a kid on the field with the band and as a cheerleader. I even participated in a couple of church events in the Rose Bowl: first a huge conference with LDS Church President Spencer W. Kimball in 1977 or so, then in 1987 for a massive youth dance festival. Both times I truly felt like everyone else was there on my territory.

Ah, Pasadena. So much more to say, but some things just have to be experienced to be understood. My perception of Pasadena is based on my unique experience. Fortunately, my experience was positive enough to leave me with a fondness for my hometown. I suddenly have a late night hankering for tacos.

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Places I Love...

After a gondola ride at Snowbird.
Utah   
aka "the land of mine inheritance". A little Mormon humor for my pleasure. 

I've been wanting to write about my favorite places for a while. Not because I want to give a travel log or anything, but just because I have been impacted by them and want to share. Some of the things I love about my favorite places are common, some obscure, but in every case significant to me. I thought I'd start out with my present location.

I can't imagine there are too many people interested in reading this who don't already know my life's story: So Cal girl who left home for college in the late 80's and spent the next 5 years going back and forth between home, Idaho, Japan and ultimately, the University of Utah. (How I ended up at the UofU and subsequently met my husband, Scott, is a little freaky and a post for another day.)

Prior to making the move to Utah, I spent all but one summer of my life vacationing here. My grandparents' home is at the foot of Utah's Ben Lomond (right), near a couple of canyons and a lovely river. When I was a child, staying with my grandparents was the closest I ever came to experiencing life in a rural environment, having always lived in a suburb of Los Angeles. They had a huge yard with vegetable gardens and fruit trees, shared a fence with neighbors who had horses (the horses loved us for feeding them my grandma's apples) and of course incredible mountain views.The summer days were hot and dry, the nights breezy and comfortable, and the occasional evening thunderstorms always an anticipated treat.

Utah was where I first camped, caught a fish, dug a potato out of the ground, built a tree house, held a baby kitten, ate a tin-foil dinner, spit a cherry pit, rode in the back of a pick up, shot a bottle rocket and got a perm (not all vacation choices warrant sentimentality).

I had fun cousins, aunts and uncles in Utah, and it seemed like every time we went to the store I met a new relative. I loved poring over the family photo albums and reading the events recorded in the family Bible. A few generations worth of ancestors had lived and died in my mother's childhood home, and I always had a sense of connection to my heritage when I was there.

With such fond memories to fuel my impressions, I never found it difficult to imagine myself here. So, when it came time to make college plans, Utah seemed like a logical choice; away from home but near family, familiar enough for an easy transition. I've loved it since day one, and though I will always have a fondness for my home town (another Place I Love), I've never looked back.

A few of the many reasons I love Utah:

  • I love that the high schoolers have their proms at the state capitol.
  • I love the glorious fall colors and the first snowfall.
  • I love the graffiti-free school yards and great teachers.
  • I love my proximity to canyons and lakes.
  • I love my surprisingly diverse neighborhood.
  • I love 101.9 the end.
  • I love Pioneer Day.
  • I love the roadside produce stands.
  • I love that we now have In-N-Out... a little flava of my youth when I'm feeling nostalgic.
  • I love the easily navigable Salt Lake International Airport.
  • I love living among adorable families of quail.
  • I love that my children are growing up with the things I loved about this place.
    Andrew in Great Grandma's backyard.

Abby and Bobby.
Wes fishing at Powell.
Ian & view from Sunrider's roof.
I camped last summer, but haven't caught a fish in years (if you don't count the catfish that Rob Carlson caught with his bare hands when I chummed it at Lake Powell a couple of years ago), nor have I had another perm since I've lived here. Our neighbor's cherry tree branches encroach on our yard, but I never eat the cherries, let alone spit out the pits. I do love the view of the snow-capped mountains through its blooming branches in the spring, though, as well as all of the many other blooming trees that decorate the landscape annually.

Utah isn't for everybody, and there are a few things I do not love about it (could they please start a new driver's training class here called "how to navigate a 4-way stop"?!).

It would be nice to live a bit closer to the rest of my family, and I sometimes miss the beach (and let's be honest, Disneyland).

But as for me and my house, I guess you could say, this is the place.

Thursday, April 14, 2011

You Say It's Your Birthday?

Happy Birthday to my hubby! Weird guy that he is, he actually asked for a race entry for his birthday. Scott doesn't just go running, he goes run-nang, ala Forrest Gump. Bless his heart, I should be grateful I don't have a superficial guy who wants designer jeans for his birthday, but I still can't help but roll my eyes and smile. You go, Scooter!

Scott in New Orleans, saving some of his Beignets for later.
I wanted to post a funny birthday video on Scott's Facebook page today, so I spent a few minutes analyzing the You Tube selection. I picked one that I thought first offensive, then realized it was right up Scott's alley.

You Tube has no shortage of birthday-related videos, but as with every other subject matter, you sometimes have to wade through the lame and annoying to find the charmers. This one is the epitome of Nicol sister humor, I'm sure Lesley and Valerie would agree. I didn't post it to Scott, however, because it makes a few references that certainly don't apply to him, and I didn't want to give any cause for misconception!

So now on to baking Scotty's cake. He will be pleased to know this isn't it, but if you get some twisted joy out of ugly cakes, be sure to take a trip to the Cake Wrecks blog. Please go to the bathroom first. You will laugh your head off.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SCOTT! HAPPY BIRTHDAY SCOTT! HAPPY BIRTHDAY SCOTT! HAPPY BIRTHDAY SCOTT! HAPPY BIRTHDAY SCOTT!

Wednesday, April 13, 2011


Channeling Wayne Dyer...

I am not a Wayne Dyer fan. Not because I think he is evil or wrong or anything, but mainly because PBS always breaks him out during their pledge drives and it messes up my personal viewing schedule. Specifically, he always seems to preempt Lark Rise to Candleford, which should be some sort of misdemeanor. I have given him a try. A couple of tries. He seems to just say lots of feel good stuff you've heard hundreds of times before, and he likes to showcase his daughter's singing. Why am I reviewing Wayne Dyer? I guess because I heard him say something once, the one thing he said that stood out and stuck with me. Something about when you wake in the night, don't go back to sleep, listen. Hm. Well, if I was supposed to get a message last night, I'm not sure it registered.

I woke up during the wee hours, startled by house sounds that happen when my furnace goes on. I listened for a minute. More snap-crackle-pop sounds, typical of my house. My heart was thumping and I knew I wouldn't fall back asleep right away, so I did a patrol of the house. Doors all locked? Check. Wes fell asleep with his light on again? Yep. Turned off lights, let the dog out and back in again. Went back to bed and couldn't fall asleep. I can't get Japan off my brain. I feel so awful for the people affected by the Fukushima nightmare. I said a prayer for Japan. Then I started to worry about what would happen in a comparable earthquake here, am I living in an unreinforced masonry house, would people in the basement be squashed, yadda. All the while I have an old Scottish tune stuck in my head. After finally falling back asleep, I woke again this morning with the same tune stuck in my head. I think it was even in my dreams. Weird night.

I listened last night, and the only message I got was that I should sleep with cotton balls in my ears, 'cause if I do wake up, my REM sleep will be a lost cause. As will my morning. Now I'm just bugged and blaming Wayne, if for no other reason than he is there to be blamed. And it's easier than blaming my furnace.

Monday, April 04, 2011

Summon Your Eagle Powers!

(Thanks, Scott aka "Nacho")

My friend Heidi turned me on to a website that has a ustream live broadcast of an eagle's nest. Two days ago the eggs began to hatch, and the last egg is expected to begin hatching any minute. You can see the two little fuzzballs and the remaining egg every now and then as the eagle moves around. When I first went to the website, I thought, "wow, this is tedious!" Didn't think I'd last long on that site. Funny enough, it becomes a little hypnotic watching the eagle, and now I keep checking back in case I miss something!

I guess I find it nice to be witnessing this rite of spring because winter seems to want to keep its grip on us as long as possible this year. The 6-or-so inches we got yesterday weighed so heavily on our budding globe willow, 4 or 5 large branches fell. We only found out because our neighbor called to let us know. Enjoying a lazy Sunday and still in my pjs, I got in my car and drove through the storm to the other side of the house to investigate (I know, I just bumped my carbon shoe size to 12). Photo taken today. Happily, snow is melting.

Considering it is still early April, I realize I'm being unrealistic not to expect snow in Utah. After all, about this time last year we had occasion to build a snow bunny!

Thursday, March 31, 2011

Pass the Hankies, Please

The sun has been out today and it is finally feeling like spring around here! I even have a couple of daffodils about to pop. I'd love to be outside running around in it, but what I had hoped would just be the onset of hay fever seems to be developing into a full-fledged cold. The one great thing about being sick is having an excuse to sit in bed with the laptop, blogging!

Good news of the day: Abby and her partner won the school debate tournament! They will be going on to district next month. Maybe sharing DNA with a big-mouthed-mama hasn't been a complete disaster for her, after all!

Other news lifting my sickly spirits: my cool friends Lori and Karen have kindly featured me in recent blogs! Like I actually have a life, or something! The irony here is, they are both far more experienced bloggers than I, and you're in for a treat if you check them out.

In Hey... Things Change! Lori has done a very kind spotlight on me which includes my post about Annie's 5th birthday. This is a great honor for me, because Lori does a very professional, high-quality blog, covering diverse and interesting topics. Lori has great style, and anyone interested in what's hot from home decor and family entertaining to thrift store shopping and photography will find something fun in her pages. Lori strives to make the most of time and life, and that's what I love about her.

Karen's blog, Popcorn and Apples, is a decadent feast for foodies, world travelers and literature buffs. In a fun questionnaire Karen recently administered to blogospheric friends (I love taking verbiagic license), probing questions were asked which I answered pathetically. You can read my responses in which I am referred to as KTG, the nickname Karen and I modestly gave ourselves during our childhoods (Karen The Great). You can also read about one of our more embarrassing escapades in an old post of mine.

Love to my blogging friends! Love to my reading friends! Let's hope the next time we meet I'm not sneezing on you. I hope you read this post from a safe distance. Be well.

Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Because I Said So, That's Why!



Scott has accused me of having something to say about everything, and truth be told, I do enjoy exploiting blog venues for soapbox purposes. But today I tried hard to think of something I felt inclined to pontificate on, and I came up with nothing. Then I realized I was actually saying a lot, but it was just all ridiculous. So I decided to start keeping track. Here are a few statements that left my mouth today:
  • Don't throw play-dough on the clean clothes.
  • An ox is not the same as a mountain goat.
  • We don't drink tubby water.
  • A dinosaur would not have been friends with another dinosaur who wanted to eat him.
  • Bun, or no bun?
  • You've gotta keep your tongue low in your mouth when you want to whistle.
  • Do not throw things at your brother's head.
I also had to explain to one of my sons why the word "pasty" is not a word he wants to use in noun form. (Unless he is changing his pronunciation and referring to delicious British savory pies, which he was not.)

But the quote of the day which will be etched in the family consciousness forever did not come from me. It was Ian, who said:
"What are those little things in the dirt that make the dirt dirty?"

I don't know why I ever even try to say anything meaningful. Clearly, the most interesting statements emerging from this house originate with my kids.

By the way, if anyone has an answer to the dirt question, please get back to me. I still haven't given an answer.

Monday, March 28, 2011

I have a piercing I regret. Two, actually. The first I got when I was 18, in the campus salon at the College Formerly Known As Ricks. (Is there a symbol for that for simplicity's sake?) It was a second ear piercing, directly above the first one, but in my left ear only. I was a freshman in college, breaking out and living on the edge. I'm sure I wore a side ponytail every day for at least a week after (on the opposite side, of course) .

The second pernicious piercing I got about 8 or 9 years later. I was a new mom with a baby, trying to hone my image and bring a sense of symmetry about in my life. Because my huge noggin (it has its own weather system) was leaning precariously leftward, and I was getting a kink in my neck. Because I was walking through the mall with my stroller-pushing mom-friends and I got a wild hair. Pick a reason (they mostly all apply), I got a second second hole, this time in my right ear.

Yes, now I regret both piercings. Now I am 40 and feel no need to make obvious my hipness (or connection to the 80's) through the wearing of extra earrings. Not that I haven't seen them look lovely on other women; they're just not "me" anymore. I'm not sure that they ever were, but I guess they served their purpose, once upon a couple of times.

Here's the issue: even though I haven't worn earrings in those holes for over a decade, the holes are still visible and obvious. What can I say? My luscious ear lobes emphasize those holes like dimples in a baby's bum. Earrings or none, my lobes shout "yoo hoo! Post 80's new-waver-wannabe on board!" Earrings or none, I walk around with piercer's remorse.

Now, to everyone who has multiple piercings that they enjoy: more power to you, live long and prosper. I realize how ridiculous this all sounds, considering the myriad of piercing options available these days. This is just my own, goofy, personal hang-up.

I guess you could say I'm pretty boring when it comes to ornamentation now, wearing only one pair of earrings at a time, a silver necklace I rarely take off, my wedding ring and an occasional bracelet. Keeping it simple and appropriate to my carpooling/diaper-changing lifestyle. I don't feel the need to make a statement with my jewelry anymore, and if I did, the statement would need to be more like "Mommy don't play that." (If anyone happens to know exactly what jewelry makes that statement please let me know! My kids aren't getting the message.)

I have pointed out the holes to my kids and mentioned my regret, in the hopes that they will think twice someday, when they are tempted to alter themselves with something they might later regret. (Who am I kidding? When I got my ears pierced I couldn't imagine ever being 40, let alone regretting my trendy accessories.)

So a couple of days ago I found myself in a grocery store with my 6 year-old son (something I try to avoid as much as possible). We had come through the shopping trip generally unscathed when we arrived at the check-out counter. Ian immediately looked up at the checker and announced (not once, but three times) "Mom! That guy has huge holes in his ears!"

I looked up and sure enough, the checker was sporting some dime-sized gauges in his earlobes. And he was not amused.

I could have played "hipster mom" with a comment of "yes, son! Aren't they groovy?" But instead I went right into damage-control mode with Ian. Glares and squeezes don't work with him; not blatant enough. I bent down to his level and whispered "stop talking until we get out of here!" Ian just looked up at me with his typical, bug-eyed surprised look. The checker never said a word but my total to me, and I smiled like a dork as the transaction was wrapped up.

Then I got to have the don't stare, point, or talk about people who are different than us chat on the way to the car. I think Ian mostly heard me, but who knows. I'm not really sure if I handled this the right way, anyway. It's not like he was staring at someone with a physical disability they had no control over; this guy knew very well that he had been consciously trying to stretch out his earlobes. And it's not like it's the rarest thing to see anymore- we have relatives who wear them. But this guy was bugged at Ian's comment, and I didn't know where to go with that. I mean, if some kid came up to me in the store and pointed out my earrings, I'd probably take it as a compliment. Hmmm...

I am aware there are cosmetic surgeries to repair unwanted piercings, and maybe someday when there aren't 5,000 more important issues to deal with in my life I'll consider that. In the meantime, I'm going to start compiling a list of comeback lines I can use, next time I take Ian out in public.

Friday, March 25, 2011

HappyBirthday, Annie



Right: March 27, 2006, upon arriving home from the Hospital. Annie (2 days old) snoozed obliviously as Andrew and Ian decorated her seat with their favorite toys.


It's a bit drizzly today, as it was the morning Annie arrived. It had been a long night, and Annie was born in a peacefully quiet delivery room, surrounded by tired people (Dad, Grandma DeAnn, a nurse or two and dear friend Julie Jones, CNM). That was March 25, 2006. It's hard to imagine Annie as a 5 year-old, but at the same time, 5 years is such a short time ago compared to how long ago it feels. The hospital she was born in isn't even operating anymore (no pun intended).

I never imagined her life would be so short.

The dank weather does not reflect my feelings today, however. Today I will be celebrating Annie's birth. I will take 5 colorful balloons to the cemetery. Tonight I will serve the kids a special treat, and we will share memories of their little sister.

Annie was the happiest baby I've ever known. She charmed everyone who met her, and had a smile for everyone. Someday I know I'll hold her in my arms again and smile back at her.

Today I will celebrate the fact that I have another daughter, even though we aren't together now. I will celebrate the knowledge that we will be together forever when this short life is over. How appropriate that her birthday falls just before Easter. The understanding of Christ's resurrection has an even more special meaning to me now. I will be eternally grateful for what he has done for me, and Annie, and continue to take comfort in the knowledge that she is with Him.

Our drizzles have turned into snow, and a light blanket of white is beginning to build across my sprouting daffodils and crocuses. Pretty in white. Just like my Annie.

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Inappropriately Dressed?



Tonight I was fortunate to have spent the evening with some lovely ladies at a baby shower. The food and company were both exceptional. Before the evening was through, I found myself in an interesting conversation with a couple of other women addressing "How Women Dress These Days." Two hours later I am still musing over the ideas discussed.

Assuming I was Woman #3 in the conversation, I'll refer to the two other ladies as Woman #1 and Woman #2. Each of us conveniently represented different decades of life: 60s, 50s and 40s (barely, thank you very much).

Our conversation began innocently, unitedly expressing distaste for the way kids dress today (right after discussing the nickel candy bars and horse-and-buggy rides of our childhoods- but I digress). Our generational differences began to show when Woman #1 offered, "Women today don't know how to dress, either." She made a good case. We no longer tend to follow the clear-cut rules of yester-year. Many of our gender don't even have any qualms about wearing their pajamas to the grocery store.

I suggested that the changes that have taken place are permanent, that the up-and-coming generations don't even know about those rules, let alone adhere to them. Woman #1 reiterated that there were certain places where skirts will always be required: theaters, weddings, funerals. I disappointed her when I admitted to attending stage productions in dress pants. (Heck- I'm pretty sure I showed up to "Phantom" in Edinburgh wearing jeans. I was 25!)

Woman #2 seemed to see both of our perspectives, understandably, considering she falls right between us in age.

I don't think Woman #1 is wrong, in the sense that I think it would be nice if there were more widely respected standards for dress. I think she is outdated in thinking that people will return to adhering to such standards.

If it were up to me, we'd go back to bustles and lace gloves, but for the time being, I think I'll start shopping for a new warm-up suit to wear to my next parent/teacher conference.

Monday, March 21, 2011


There is no "I" in "Japan"*

The Japanese word for "I" has four syllables: wa-ta-ku-shi. Kind of a cumbersome word in conversation, and they hardly ever use it. Where we would say "I am going to school" in English, they would simply say "going to school," with the reference to first person being implied. Whenever I have a Japanese conversation, my American-ness really shows in that I tend to want to use the watakushi word a lot. Scott often reminds me to drop it, and then I feel so self centered for having used it in the first place. We Americans value our own opinions so much, we start a large number of our sentences with "I." I want, I heard, I think...

I (har) have been thinking a great deal about the Japanese culture lately, in light of reports on how they are handling the earthquake/tsunami tragedy as a society. My heart just goes out to them as a people. What is the death toll at now? 8,000? It is horrific to see the tragic human drama going on over there, and inspiring to see the stoic way the people are cleaning up. Maybe it's weird to say, but I feel sort-of, well, proud of them. Not to condescend in any way; it is an admirational variety of pride.

Last November, Scott and I found ourselves lodging in the French Quarter of New Orleans. We did lots of the typical tourist stuff while there and had a great time. But even though it has been over five years (I know, crazy, huh?) since Hurricane Katrina, people there are still talking about it. The French Quarter is as beautiful and charming as ever, but the people are clearly still traumatized, and so is much of the infrastructure of the greater New Orleans area.

We drove through the Lower 9th Ward and saw much of what you've undoubtedly seen on the news- lots of boarded up homes, and empty lots with nothing but driveways that once lead to attached garages. Occasionally we'd see holes in the roofs of the condemned houses, which I didn't think much of, until it was called to my attention that such a hole had been the only exit for a family trapped in the attic of their flooded home.

There is no question the victims of Hurricane Katrina suffered unimaginable trauma. Many long-time residents have fled, and the economy still hasn't recovered. If my research is accurate, the final death toll was 4,081.

In the heart of New Orleans there is a Katrina museum where you can follow the events from storm to social breakdown. It was hard to be reminded of the tragedy and ensuing fiasco. No matter who you think was at fault for not getting aid to people sooner, I'm sure we all wish we could have seen the united efforts of survivors the way we're seeing them in Japan. Where they've lost twice as many people. Where they've not just suffered one natural disaster, but two. Where they are experiencing the second greatest nuclear nightmare in their history. Yeah, it was also unbearably hot after Katrina. Sendai has been covered in snow. Enough said.

Are we doing enough to prepare ourselves for natural disasters? Are we prepared mentally to simply be civil in an emergency? Could we turn off "Dancing With the Stars" for 15 minutes to come up with a plan for our own families? Are we in the U.S. doomed to expect Katrina scenarios after our future earthquakes/volcanoes/hurricanes/tornadoes/you name the disaster? We know these things are on the way, which is why I'm so worried...

So back to no "I" in "Japan." The recurring reminder in every news report and video clip coming out of Sendai is that every survivor, every aid worker, and everyone cleaning up is "working for the greater good." A survivor being interviewed on NHK (Japanese t.v. network) today stated "we all have to help each other. What else can we do?" I guess no one has suggested looting or brandishing arms to her yet.

We've got it in us to pull together, and our history proves it. Maybe we should remind ourselves of that more often, and add some extra patience, common sense and brotherly kindness to our 72 hour emergency kits.

Kudos to the Japanese. I just hope folks over here are paying attention.

* Unless of course you are writing "Nihon" or "Nippon." Then again, in the Japanese alphabet there is no letter "i." Whatever. Just go with me on this.

Tuesday, February 01, 2011

What About Bob?


What About Bob?
This is an unusually long blog post for me. Contents may be disturbing to some readers. Oh well.

The photo below, dignified representation of my family though it may be, is sadly lacking the presence of our newest member: Master Robert! (And the title "master" is not at all inappropriate here. This kid has the whole family wrapped around his pinkie toes.)

I believed we had another little boy coming to us for a couple of years before Bobby was born. I'm not one of those amazing mothers who dream about unborn children or instinctively "know" someone is missing. A friend, however, who I am convinced has a special gift, compensated for my lack of intuition. This friend informed me, at the funeral of my daughter, that my unborn son had been constantly by my side.

I've decided to share this very personal story because it has brought so much comfort to me to know I am surrounded by loved ones I cannot see. I have shared it with a few friends and family members, and their responses have ranged from a hesitant "hmm, that's interesting," to an ecstatic "I love stories like that! I totally believe in that stuff!" My own husband isn't sure where he stands on this subject, and is clearly uncomfortable with my degree of interest in it. I accept that about him, and anyone else who is a skeptic. All I can say is, this happened to me, and I have faith that it was real.

In 2005, I was involved in a series of classes addressing natural ways of eating and healing/preventing disease, taught with a Christian perspective. I was then and still am a faithful patient of modern medical practices, but because this class was in my neighborhood and I had friends attending, I decided to join. The classes were interesting, though the meals served were sometimes odd. I enjoyed the discussions and camaraderie with both friends and people I wouldn't otherwise have had occasion to associate with.

The subject of caffeine was raised one night. We were advised of the many ways it is detrimental to healthy living, and reminded that we are primarily in control of our own caffeine intake. Like a toddler throwing a tantrum, I went on a rant about how I couldn't possibly keep up with my four kids without the help of Diet Coke. Something along the lines of ...my youngest wasn't even walking, and I couldn't imagine being a suitable mother for the children I had on my own strength, and how could the mothers of big families survive without caffeine, and I better not have any more kids!

The teacher of the class, the friend I referred to earlier, looked at me and laughed. My eyes widened, because I saw in her laughter the implication that she thought I had more kids on the way. I think I said something like, "don't even suggest it!" I think I was actually angry, as though her words would jinx me and I'd become pregnant from the mere mention of the prospect. She smiled apologetically, and told me she thought I had "some more coming."

"Some?" I questioned, figuring that as even one more child was beyond my consideration at the time, more than one was unfathomable. She raised her eyebrows and shrugged her shoulders. That was pretty much the end of that uncomfortable encounter. I'm not sure if I walked away from that night's class more upset that I had been called on my Diet Coke issues, or worried that maybe I was supposed to have more children; and how could I possibly do that?

Class was canceled the following week, and I had put the episode from my mind. In the interim, I was going about my normal routine when one day I realized I hadn't been paying attention to the calendar, and frankly, I was late. Having been very careful during the previous month I didn't think much of this, but when I found myself at a dollar store on one of the days after the realization, I picked up a pregnancy test just to put my mind at rest.

What I discovered when I got the results floored me! All I could do was pick up the phone, call Scott and say, "I'm looking at a positive pregnancy test." After a considerable pause, Scott replied with an enthusiastic "well, congratulations, dear!" We both laugh about that moment now. I'm so glad Scott had the correct response, because I was freaked out enough for both of us!

In the days leading up to the next class I was filled with anxiety. I had come to terms with the idea of being pregnant, but was terribly lacking in confidence about my ability to "keep it all together" with five kids age 9 and under. This was my first "surprise" pregnancy and it had completely rattled me.

I don't remember much about the topics of the next class, but I do remember anxiously waiting for everyone to leave at the end so I could get a moment alone with our teacher. When I did, I simply questioned her as to why she was so confident I had more children coming. Her response was, "because you have a little girl dancing and playing around you and sitting in your lap, and a little boy standing in the background."

I was utterly shocked and a little excited at this suggestion. I blurted out "well, I'm pregnant!" Neither of us had known this fact when we had last spoken. We smiled together and marveled at the crazy circumstance, and I grilled her with questions about what she had seen. Her feeling was that it was the little girl who was about to be born. Of course I asked if the presence of two children necessarily meant I would definitely have two more (still an impossibility in my mind). Her reply indicated not necessarily, but probably. In my mind I went with "not necessarily." He was probably the spirit of a cousin or uncle or friend just escorting her here.

Skipping to 2007, after having almost one whole year of enjoying my cheerful, pleasant, beautiful little daughter, I found myself at the loathsome occasion of her funeral. We were overwhelmed by the love of friends and family who came to offer comfort to us. The mention of "my son" was unexpected and oddly comforting, but it was an idea that was difficult to process while I was engulfed in grief and unable to think of much else. I had learned, however, to pay attention to what my friend had to say.

The following months are largely a blur to me now. I barely remember 2008 at all. I carried on to the best of my ability, and each time I saw my friend, she would mention that my son was around me, that he was aware that I wasn't ready for him yet. Scott felt there was another child for our family, also. People of course were asking me if I would consider having another baby, and occasionally I would tell them, "yes, I have a son coming," but I let everyone know that I wasn't going into a pregnancy fueled by grief. I looked forward to meeting my son, but wanted to be ready.

So, here we are now, almost a year-and-a-half after Bobby's arrival. He has been nothing less than a joy to have in our home. From my first doctor visit I spoke with confidence about the son I was expecting- even told the ultrasound technician before the machine had been turned on.

This is not a testimonial of psychic powers or a suggestion that everyone find a clairvoyant friend for guidance. My friend always acknowledged that any gift she might have could only be from God, and having studied the "gifts of the spirit" mentioned in the New Testament, I can accept that. I also don't mean to suggest that only pre-mortal loved ones are around us, having had other sweet experiences involving loved ones who have passed. My only hope in sharing this story, whenever I share it, is to give comfort to others through a reassurance that God has a plan for us, our families and loved ones are a part of that plan, and mere mortality cannot fully separate us.

Friday, January 21, 2011

Still here!


Happy New Year 2009! Happy New Year 2010! Happy New Year 2011! I'm a pathetic excuse for a blogger, but I don't want this blog to sit in cyberspace with no indication that its author's life has "gone on." In upcoming days, I hope to have something of value to share here, but for now, here's to survival. :)

Thursday, August 07, 2008


Well, inspired by Lesley and Valerie's cute blogs, I have decided to come out of hibernation to post a little about the Pioneer Trek. It was amazing. The youth were great. The food crew hooked us up most triumphantly. Wildlife: saw antelope, prairie dogs, amazon flies and mosquitoes and 1 bloated dead cow- heard coyotes and rattlesnakes. I felt a kinship with my pioneer ancestors that I hadn't experienced before, and I'd do it again in a heartbeat. Well, maybe in a few million heartbeats- after I've rested up a bit.
You can see the rest of my trek photos here.

Saturday, December 01, 2007

This is a pathetic excuse for a blog. Here is my Halloween photo, posted one month after Halloween. But here are my excuses:
My car was broken into.
My purse was stolen.
I was in charge of Young Women In Excellence.
I put on a birthday party for Wesley's 11th.
Wesley got his Arrow of Light.
I had to help Abby with her Reflections project.
We attended the Reflections assembly; Abby won 1st for choreography.
I had to get a new driver's license.
I had to spend lots of time at the bank.
I'm one of the only non-pregnant women in Scott's family.
Christmas shopping.
Classroom volunteering.
Music lessons and recitals.
Christmas light hanging.
Fruitless potty training.
Result-less carpet cleaning.
Pooper-scooping.
Far too many online scrabble games.

Okay, so not so much a list of excuses as a recap of the last month. Thank heaven for a life that is keeping me busy.

Tuesday, October 09, 2007

I sneezed today, and Ian said "bless you." I'm sure none of my other 3 year olds ever thought to say this. What he lacks in potty training skills, he certainly makes up for in politeness. (Yes, he occasionally thanks me for changing his diaper.)

The pictures below are courtesy of Uncle Kenneth. Abby Competed in the Las Vegas Highland Dance Association's competition last Saturday and was awarded "Most Promising Dancer." We're just a wee bit proud!

Monday, September 24, 2007

Thank Heaven for kids.Andrew started kindergarten this month.
We hung out with cousins.
Abby started violin lessons.
Wesley's working his tail off in 5th grade.
Ian's tongue is getting looser.
Welcome fall!

Tuesday, September 04, 2007

Here are a few photos from the big trip. Not wanting to bore anyone to death, I've chosen mostly people shots.

Spent our first day in London after 5,000 hours of travel. Managed to stay awake for most of the bus tour.

In Stamford with Avril and Kay. Humanitarians haven't made much progress there, as the gallows maintain a presence in the town center for public entertainment.









Drove up to Shropshire to the mere district, mere being old English for "small lake or pond." (Cole happens to mean "cabbage.") Spent a lovely afternoon walking in the woods that surround Colemere. Saw no cabbages but many gopher holes, ignorant of the bad omen this boded for our return. (Grumble grumble...)

Headed up to Val's next in Blackburn. Enjoyed amazing scenery and historical landmarks, including Whalley Abbey. (DON'T say "wally." They don't like that.) Also the most magnificent scone with jam and cream ever experienced on Earth. (That warranted a photo, but didn't get one.)

On up to Scotland via Gretna Green and Kilmarnock, AKA wild goose chase thanks to Miss Magellan, our trusty (har) GPS (or Sat-Nav, to use the UK vernacular).

Had beautiful days in Scotland staying with Aunt Jean and Uncle Ralston. Took a cruise on the Waverly,




saw Inverary castle,
the Cowal Games, and




enjoyed priceless moments with family.

Wesley and Abby loved meeting new cousins, Rory and Caitlyn (and baby Emma!). We were even in a parade all together! What can we say- the crowds love us. They even put on an incredible fireworks display at the waterfront in our honor. Despite acute cases of "piper's ear," we were all sad to leave. And now that Wesley has his chanter and Abby has witnessed the World Championships of Highland Dancing, they both have wonderful memories to inspire there practices.

How lucky we are to have such a wonderful family. We will never forget their love and hospitality.