Category Archives: Randomnymity

Here I Come! Again.

Here I Come! Again.

I always seem to find the most inopportune times to write what I am feeling.  Take today for example:

-I need to be at school in less than 50 minutes.

-my house is a freaking mess.

-I am not ready for my day in any way.

 

Despite this, I have to write.  I popped by here to take a gander and realized it has been almost a year to the day since I have posted anything.  Which is sad to me.

I think about writing all of the time but I don’t really have much of a chance to do it anymore.  I’m just struggling to keep up with my family and the needs of our lives (just as everyone else is) and “working it out” through my poor writing skills is not at the top of the list anymore.  But it needs to be. Even if it only is for myself.

So, this is my solemn vow.  I will write more…especially my gratitudes.  Beginning NOW!

Look out!  Here I come!  Again.

Saving Pilly

Saving Pilly

Child #4 brought home a caterpillar the other day.  While walking home from school he spied it and took it for a ride home to show me.  It was a green, plump, wriggly-type insect.

What timing!  The next day, “Pilly” (as named by afore mentioned child) began his metamorphosis into a chrysalis.  Unfortunately, he didn’t attach himself to the stick that was put in his jar.  So, he was laying on the bottom of the jar evoking concern for his well being.

Upon returning home from work on Friday night, I found child #1 trying to glue him to the stick with Elmer’s Glue–which proved to be unsuccessful.  Next, I was talked into attempting to tie a string around the chrysalis and then suspending it from the twig.  No go.  Then, trying both.  Gluing the string to the bug and then tying it to the stick.  It worked briefly, but then Pilly ended up on the bottom of the jar where he began.

Saturday morning, the husband brought me some Super Glue.  Finally, success!  I am happy to report that Pilly is now stuck to his twig with a waterproof bond that could glue the wing of a commercial airline back on its body.  That bug isn’t going anywhere…well, until he breaks out of his little shell, anyway.

The whole concern with Pilly being on the floor of the jar was knowing when he emerged with his fresh and newly developed wings, they need to air dry without contacting any surface.  Otherwise, doom for Pilly.

While the Super Glue worked, I can’t help but wonder what kind of damage it may be doing to our little caterpillar.  Someone suggested that he might come out with three wings and one eye.  I have to admit that the thought had crossed my mind.  Maybe his wriggly butt will be glued permanently to the twig and he’ll have to attempt air maneuvers while dragging it around.  What if he comes out all mutated and carnivorous and comes after us?  It would be a blood bath, I tell you.

Really, no matter how much I want it to be successful,  I know that Pilly may not survive the Super Glue experiment.  And if he doesn’t?  At least he was loved.  Not many caterpillars can say that.  Especially since they can’t talk.

Keep your fingers crossed for flight…

Dear 16-year-old self…

Dear 16-year-old self…

Doodle

Dear 16-year-old self,

I have a few things to share with you, but not much. Because, really, you are a great girl anyway. Here goes:

Be kind to EVERYONE.

Love yourself more. You’re worth it. I’m not kidding.

Don’t give away your kisses ’cause you can’t reclaim them.

Think more about what you want to be in this life.

It’s okay to wear your heart on your sleeve, it’s just more painful.

And finally:

When you are 17, don’t crash mom and dad’s car.

Much love to you in all of your innocence.

Jen

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A Gem In An Otherwise Dull Day

A Gem In An Otherwise Dull Day

Sometimes, reflecting upon the vast amount of funny junk in my life yields a truly unpolished gem; a moment in history that suddenly becomes funnier when I unearth it and shine it up NOW…vs. not very funny THEN.

Have I ever told you about the time that I set off a fire extinguisher in a loaded school bus wearing a pioneer dress and standing next to Joseph Smith?  No? That’s a shocker.

So, the school bus, pioneer dress and the fire extinguisher are all true.  The one minor detail is it wasn’t really Joseph Smith, but my friend James.  And no, his last name isn’t Smith.

I had a great time re-telling this story to a bunch of co-workers/friends tonight at dinner.  So much so, I almost spewed cupcake crumbs all over the table top.  Sigh. That would have been a waste of perfectly good cupcake.  Anyway, in reliving that moment over again, I found so much more humor in it than I did when I was standing face to face with the school bus driver some 19 years ago.  It’s wasn’t quite so hilarious when it happened.

This is how it went down.  In 1991 I had the opportunity to be a part of the famous (or infamous–depending on how you look at it) Manti Pageant down in Sanpete county, Utah.  Being a city girl, I knew that an opportunity like this would come along only once in a lifetime.  What opportunity is that, you ask?  Why–the opportunity to dress as a pioneer and be a part of Mormon spectacle.  The story this pageant shares is a mix of LDS church history and scripture from the Book Of Mormon.  For many of us, it meant dressing up in pioneer dress and trekking up and down the hill which the Manti Temple rests on.  (Note: when I say “hill” I mean an “almost-mountain” which scares the be-jeebers out of you as you run down it in between scenes in the pitch black, hoping that you don’t trip over one of many electrical cords sprawled across the hill-side, er, almost-mountainside.  Thoughts of me, face down, skirt up over my head in my pantaloons as the lights came up were very real and very scary.  Had a few close calls, though.)

This pageant has a cast of dozens which are shuttled to the temple grounds from Manti High School via school bus.  Alright.  So.  We have the school bus, we have the pioneer dress, we have me and we have 1.2 million cast members that had been hurtling themselves up and down that almost-mountain in the dark.  Hoping they don’t end bottoms up in front of the thousands who come to watch this Sanpete tradition.

All of us are on the bus bobbing up and down like Fisher Price Little People back to the school.  It just so happens that James and I are the last 2 on the bus.  We have no seats and are left to our own wits standing at the front of the bus.  I am standing–facing backward–with my pioneer dressed hiney lurking in very close proximity to the fire extinguisher.  Mr. Bus Driver puts on the brakes and since i didn’t have anything, or anyone, to hold onto, that means that my buttocks, very lightly, move from their close proximity to the extinguisher.  They are now ON the extinguisher. But alas, gentle readers, I didn’t realize this.  Too many pioneer layers.  Or something.

Since it was a warm summer night, I remember thinking to myself  ”Gee.  This bus has a great air conditioner!”  I could feel the coolness of the A/C–and what a sensation it was–my butt had never been so cool.  Sweet relief!

All of a sudden, Mr. Bus Driver starts yelling at me.  Something about a….a what? The millions on the bus were visiting with each other at a deafening roar and so it was quite impossible to hear what he was saying, let alone hear any strange swishing, whipped creamy sounds.  So he yelled again.  At me.  And started pawing at my skirts.  Sheesh!  What does he want?  I’m not that kind of pioneer dame.

James, in his wisdom, pulled me away from the extinguisher so that Bus Driver Guy could shut off his beloved extinguisher.  I looked down at my dress.  It was like snow in the Rockies, I tell you.  A fine, powdery layer covered my skirt and the front of the bus.  A winter wonderland in June, it was.  But it just happened to be in a school bus and chances are I wasn’t going to let anyone ski my slopes. No matter what.

By this time, Mr Bus Driver turned into Mr “You Violated My Fire Extinguisher” and became one ornery cuss.  He looked at me like I was some sort of idiot.  Like I thought to myself–”Hey!  I’ve never set off a fire extinguisher with my ass before, why don’t I try it tonight?  In layer upon layer of skirting?”  Yeah.  That’s EXACTLY what happened. *eye-roll*

If I had been a smarter girl, I would have asked him what happened to the PIN that goes into the extinguisher handle and keeps it from spraying at unsuspecting young women.  Unfortunately, at that time in my life, I was not acquainted with those types of things.  Who thought about fire extinguisher pins or even knew they existed?  Not me.

Well, 19 years ago, it ended up as a somewhat funny yet highly embarrassing moment shared by me and a bus load of pioneer imposters.  Tonight it became a belly laugh.  The kind of laugh that you wish you could have more often.  A real gem in an otherwise dull day.

DAILY GRATITUDES

1. A Slow Workday.

2. Good, long (and loud) belly-laughs!

3. My favorite holiday, coming right up!

4. Sleeping in–tomorrow morning–followed by yard-work therapy!

5. Knowing I go home, at the end of a long day, to a family I adore.  Even the dog.

When I die….

When I die….

Fiesta

Would you just die if I told you that i was writing my own obituary? Is that conceited? Is it weird?

Yes, I AM really and truly, fo’ sho, writing my own obituary. I decided many, many moons ago that very often what is shared in obituaries is most often the glossy truth and sometimes out and out lies. Now, I know that when it comes to remembering someone, we should remember the good and not the bad. I am also here to say that it is very often the character flaws that make us who we are. Sure, we all have the chance to hone good characteristics and traits but I must stand firm on this point: our imperfections are what make us human and endearing.

Sure, list that I have been a PTA president…just make sure to follow it with what a lousy PTA president I was. Yes, I have 4 children whom I love dearly but please–don’t preface it with the words “Angel Mother” or “Worlds Best Mom” because I’m not. Nor have I ever claimed to be. Why should we claim something in death that really wasn’t true in life? Dunno. Doesn’t make sense.

I have left specific instructions to my husband about my death and what I want to happen. So far, there are only 2 rules:

1. I want the words “Some Pig” engraved on my headstone. Yes, just like Charlottes Web (which is one of the best books in the entire world, by the way.)

2. I want a fiesta instead of a funeral luncheon. Sombreros optional. I want a party with good food and lots of laughter. (I also want people to remember me a few hours later when the refried beans come back to visit.) How’s THAT for going out with a bang?

I don’t trust him with my obituary, however. That is why I have taken matters into my own, still very alive, hands.

I don’t want people to remember me the way they THINK they remember me. I want them to remember me the way I truly am–ugly truths and all. Do I want to be remembered as someone who laugh loudly and irreverently and most often at the misfortunes of others? Yes. I do. Do I want to be remembered as the girl who could be a huge pain in the ass? Yep. That’s me! Do I want to thought of as the sometimes spacey and clumsy chick that I am? Why, yes. All of those things (and so many more) are what help make me, me. The list could go on and on forever but I’m not going to share it all here. When I die, you’ll just have to read my obituary to find out.

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DAILY GRATITUDES:

1. I have a job.  I am thankful for that.

2. I have my health.

3. The safety I feel in my everyday life.  Whether that be emotional or physical, the effect is the same.

4.  I have siblings and other loved family members coming to town this week.  Only once a year does it get this good!  Food, family and fun!

5. The newest member of our family: Dyson.  The vacuum.  He sucks. (Is it possible to have a crush on a household appliance?)

Ode To Sunglasses {A Writing Retreat Assignment}

Ode To Sunglasses {A Writing Retreat Assignment}

O, sunglasses, where art thou?

Why can’t I keep my dirty little hands on you for more than one trip to the grocery store?

Sunglasses, where art thou?

I refuse to spend more than 10 bucks on a pair of sunglasses because of the “Kid Factor.”  {Kid Factor = fingerprints, smudges, breakage and losses.}  I can’t justify spending oodles of dollars on a pair of sunglasses that will end up at the bottom of the junk drawer or in bed with whoever happened to have them in their possession at bedtime.

O, sunglasses, where art thou?

Usually it’s about the time that I have a cracking noggin ache that I realize they are nowhere to be found in my car my bag or anywhere on my person.  Oh well.  At least I’ve got Excederin.

Sunglasses!  Where art thou?

It would be easier for me to believe that they grew legs and left at their own accord because they were unhappy with the current working conditions, than to actually have to spend the precious energy to try to find them.

*Sigh*.  I’ve got such a headache.

DAILY GRATITUDES

1. Garden work. Gimme a few minutes out there and every problem dissolves.
2. Water. I’ve cut carbonation a few days ago and had forgotten how much I love H2O.
3. Possibilities.
4. Air conditioning. Especially after gratitude #1
5. My new computer. On it’s way. Thanks, dear! (It’s a given that he bought me my own laptop because he want’s me off of his.)

Never Thought I’d Do That

Never Thought I’d Do That

My life has been punctuated with various things I have said which I never thought I would say.  Let’s be honest here; mainly mothering type stuff.  Stuff like:  ”Please don’t dance on the magazines.”  ”Quit licking your brother.”  ”Come stick your hand in the dispose-all.”  Then there is the ever popular “Let me see your underwear.”

And things I never thought I would do:  CPR on an about-to-be-pronounced-dead-person.  Snorkeling in the gloriously warm waters of Hawaii.  Riding on a commuter train with a chandelier.  Wait.  What?

Yes, the other night I shared a ride home with a chandelier.  But not just any kind of chandelier, oh no.  This was a pineapple shaped chandelier.  True story.

To sum it up, one of my sister-in-laws has just purchased her first home with her husband and they are now making it their own.  Lots of painting and refinishing and replacing going on….and removing of chandeliers which seemed to be everywhere in that house.  Anywho, she gave me a pineapple shaped chandelier because I thought it is interesting and beautiful and I just happened to get it from her on a night I rode the commuter train down into Salt Lake City.  So, I took the chandelier for a ride back home on said commuter train. Never thought I would do that.  Okay, so it was boxed up and it wasn’t like I was carrying it held high like the Statue of Liberty might have, but still. I took it with me.  After all, how many times can you do that? Not many. Pretty impressive for someone who has never taken a chandelier anywhere, let alone on a train.

So, this got me to thinking.

The past 18 months of my life have been rich with things that I never thought I would do.  Or say. Or be.  Things I never thought I would feel, words I never thought I would say and ideas I never thought I would have–all leading me to be a person I never thought I would be; or even could be. 

One of my favorite things to say to the husband is “I’m not the same girl you married”, which is true.  But you know what?  He’s not the same guy I married, either.  So we’re even.  However, I truly and deeply am not the same girl he married and I never thought I would be who I am right now. Yes, some things are consistent season after season–I’m talking more than just physically–but there has been a very definite, very pronounced, shift internally.

A cumbersome hurdle in the past slice of my life is getting over who I used to be vs. who I am now.  Sounds silly and juvenile, I know.  Can you believe I actually mourned–and wept– for the loss of who I once was?  In my mind’s eye I could see all of the things that I “used” to do…”used” to be…”used” to love…”used” to want…and it was so very frustrating and heartbreaking to let go of those personal expectations.  Depression, a deep and abiding depression, was the catalyst leading me to compare myself  B.B. (before breakdown) and A.B. (after breakdown).  So, yes.  I went through the grieving process for the girl I once was and have had to embrace the newer, and perhaps more beautiful, parts of me.   Never thought I’d do that.

I will spare you all of the gory details and give you just a smattering of what I’m talking about.  I used to crave approval from others.  And now?  Meh. Whatever. I have always enjoyed lively social situations and pursued being a social person.   Gone are the days I lived for the next gathering.  I have to talk myself into being social and attending “social” events–even family soirees.   Hermit-like, I just prefer to be at home on the down-low.  I used to love to sing for others and would take every opportunity to do so.  It was my drug of choice.  Now I sing for me. I’ll sing for anyone who asks, but the joy is gone.  My spiritual beliefs used to be very black and white with little room for variation and tolerance.  And now? Now there are oh-so-many shades of gray. I see with different eyes.  I hear with different ears.  Out of necessity I have had to take the very essentials of my religion and make a conscious choice to cling to those.  These aren’t the only changes but they are some of the largest.  Never thought those things would change.  Never.

As with any changing, there comes both the good and the bad.  Yes, I am no closer to perfection than I once was but I have this swelling inside of me that tells me I am closer to who I am supposed to be. It’s almost as if these changes are following a natural course but were brought about in a very inconvenient way.  Through these events I have discovered once hidden and wonderful things about me that I was unaware of before.  Things that renew my faith in myself–who I was and will be–and in my God.  They feel…right. It is a unique and a strangely satisfying feeling.

Now that I think about it, half of the fun of that train ride with my pineapple chandelier was knowing it was inside the box where no one could see it.  I knew it was in there, like my own little secret, but I am sure that no one else would have appreciated it like I do.  And that’s okay.

Maybe I’m like the chandelier in the box.  I know I’m in here, even though I’m different from what I once was.  Maybe no one but me will appreciate these interesting and beautiful changes in me. And that’s okay, because more importantly than anyone else,  I appreciate them.  I appreciate me and who it is I am slowly and joyfully becoming.

Never thought I’d do that.

DAILY GRATITUDES:

1. The anticipation of 5 days off!  Woot!

2. Segullah Writing Retreat on saturday. Oh man, I can’t wait!

3. My youngest molding himself against me after just waking up.

4. Allergy pills.

5. Garlic bread.  Don’t ask.

Steps and Paths

Steps and Paths

I have found a new fascination.

Steps.

Like these.

And these.

I like paths, too.

This one is nice.

Makes me want to take a walk.

I love these photos.  They remind me that sometimes the means by which we arrive someplace are the loveliest part of the journey.

DAILY GRATITUDES

1. A satisfying nights sleep.

2. The sun that shines through our patio doors in the morning.

3. The dog that lays in the sun that shines through our patio doors in the morning.

4. A new, deluxe, microwave.

5. The ability to see things with more than just my eyes. (And, no, I’m not talking Helen Keller style here….)

Daily Gratitudes

Daily Gratitudes

First, a thought.

“What a peculiar privilege has this little agitation of the brain which we call ‘thought’.”

~David Hume

Daily Gratitudes for today:

1.  Rain.  Others wish it away, I am glad it’s here.

2. Dinner, made.  Phew!

3.  My journal.  Loyal companion, friend and closet.  In which I keep all of my skeletons.

4. The antique jar of buttons in my front room.  Silly how something so ordinary can give me a happy feeling when I see it.

5.  Glee.  New. Tonight.  {Yes, I am a gleek.}