Michaelson Reunion 2007

Afton, Wyoming. The Ranch. Star Valley. Home. No wonder this is one of my "happy places." The Michaelson reunion is held every year on the last Saturday of July. We have a barbeque on Friday night, the reunion proper on Saturday afternoon, fireworks courtesy of my Uncle Sid in the evening and a pancake breakfast on Sunday morning. With all the memories I have made at this reunion over my many years of life, it amazes me that other people, other families don't hold a yearly reunion. I say it's worth all the trouble, if they turn out even remotely like the ones we have.
Rivulet enjoyed crawling around in the grass at the ranch, finding mud and playing with her many cousins in the same age bracket.

(Above) Uncle Jeff helping Lemur wet his toesies in the Intermitent Spring. It's a 3/4 mile hike we do every year up to the "Geyser." I've done it every summer since I was Lemur's age. Last time Lemur hiked it, he lost his beloved paci to the water gods (he spit it out screaming for me). He remembered it this time, and kept asking if we were going to find it.
Above is the nasty gash I received for saving my son from a grisly death. Okay, a bad fall . . . but still. This is after I washed it off. Note the blood on the buckle. Cool, huh?
Papa and Lemur making it down the trail. I love moments like these.

Earlier that day was the actual REUNION! Above is Uncle John (who Lemur hasn't seen since Christmas) showing Lemur how to bump fists as a manly sign of comraderie. Lemur was beeming. They also threw rocks in the Swift Creek, right by the bowry.
Above is my Aunt Sylvia and my Grandma playing their accordians. It was awesome. They practiced all morning. At one point, G-ma came into the kitchen where I was busily cutting up fruit, started to play with Rivulet and commented, "That woman has gone accordian crazy!" Apparently my Aunt had just recently bought the red one and taught herself to play. It's the happiest I've ever seen her, honestly.
Uncle John and Rivulet spent some quality time together, when he wasn't tossing a ball in Lemur's face or teaching him . . . uh . . . colorful words. I miss my brother.

Good thing about digital cameras: I can take a picture of a picture and have it turn out like the above of my Great Great Grandfather, Jacob Michaelson. I have wanted this painting for my own, but G-ma absolutely will not part with it. So now I have my own. So to speak.
Above is a picture from inside the old barn, looking out at the old corral. I remember going in there early in the mornings in the summer to get Moneychanger and Missy for a ride. The weeds were just the same. While in the barn, I saw an old box of animal penicillan that expired November 30, 1950: with the bottle still inside! I also found a pair of overalls that I suspect belonged to my Great Grandfather Joseph.

While inside, I heard strange noises over head that I assumed were birds in the hay loft. But then I heard footsteps just behind me, out by the door. When i mustered up the courage to look out there, I saw the most beautiful rooster who caught sight of me and with a loud and humerous "Cluck cluck cluck" ran away across the yard. Boy was I relieved it wasn't a skunk!

And here is the M on the front screen door. It stands for Michaelson. I love this reunion. I love the food, the people and the place. I love family. I love being a part of a family like this one.

Well, there it is. A breif recap of what I did this weekend. Reunions ROCK!!!

Not so far from where I've been

Tonight I will be late for rehearsal.

Over three weeks ago when we received our schedule, I noticed the call time for today and told the stage manager that we would be arriving nearly two hours late (at the usual time) due to Muad'Dib's work schedule and the likely event of not having a babysitter.

I did not remind him and he did not remember.

I don't like feeling like a child caught in trouble.

When he called I tried to push the feeling aside as, "Well, I told you and it's your fault you didn't remember." I'm not sure that's far from the truth and yet . . .

I have a chilling fear, a throbbing anxiety that is slowly (over the last hour and a half) gaining strength: blurring my vision, my hands are shaking and it feels like a heavy wet blanket is hindering my ability to breathe.

Over and over through my mind replays an old memory: Me walking onto the "Deck" at Bonneville on the day of the last Tapestry performance. No one would look at me. No one would talk to me. Okay, one girl who said snidely, "Nice of you to show up."

Then I got reamed. I can't recall many moments in my life where I backed down from an argument, even with an adult. My defenses are up, armed and "fire when ready" quicker than anyone else I know. But this time. All I can remember was the sensation of spiraling into shame. Physically, emotionally and mentally. When i called my mother to pick me up, she could barely understand me between the sobs.

I feel like that scared little girl again.

Why?

I didn't do anything wrong the first time, I'm not so sure I did anything "wrong" this time . . . so why am I so consumed with fear that instead of getting ready for rehearsal I have to sit down and blog about it, hoping to cleanse the wound: hoping it will heal faster.

I don't want to go to rehearsal afraid. But I am afraid: afraid that in the short time between 5:15pm and when we arrive at 7:20 pm everyone will have turned against me. They will all hate me. Moreover, they will all just look at me sideways, with anger in their eyes: accusations I would not be allowed to answer because they would not be voiced.

I can see what these two situations have in common so far, but I sincerely hope they turn out differently. Why am I so afraid? What could any one of them possibly do to me?

I don't know.

Yet I fear. Yet my head spins with the cotton-ball-like numbness that is my defense against anxiety: Overload of feeling, must disengage.

Perhaps that's the answer: disengage.

Because truly, all I can control is my behavior when I walk in, and my reaction to anything anyone says. Nothing more. I can decide now what manner in which I will behave . . . and yet even these things, these ideas of control do not comfort me.

I am still afraid.

Why?

At the end of an era

I have finished Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows and am simply dying to discuss it with someone in the same predicament. SOMEONE WHO HAS READ IT, PLEASE CALL ME!!!! ASAP!

Constellations of the Brain

It seems to me that we all have a little sadness in us.

Tonight, mine comes from looking at a situation and trying desperately to feel like it's not my responsibility. The problem is, I deeply feel it is my responsibility, because it is within my ability to change it. The people in charge don't want my help. Others "on my level" don't say anything at all, so I fear I am swimming alone . . .

My sadness comes from seeing pictures of myself . . .

From reading stories like Wildbound's and hearing my own inability to "finish a prayer."

From comparing myself to others.

From feeling hopeless.

From feeling useless.

From feeling like a failure.

From feeling a little bit lost.

But, on a brighter side: Muad'Dib is adorable and Harry Potter is awesome. My baby back pack arrived today and I rehearsed in a cute skirt that made me feel a little flow-y and pretty-ish. Though at the back of my mind remains these points of sadness, like stars: sometimes they shine brighter than other times. And right now, it is night: they shine for all to see. So what do we do when my sadness stars litter the night sky like dropplets of spilled milk? We connect the dots and make sense from the senselessness that is my unfiltered emotional response.

I think I see an otter! I will name him Fenwhing.

It was AWESOME!

Saturday night we went over to a friend's house for dinner with 3 other couples. Beginning the night with 6, the number swelled to double that by the end of the evening as others made their way over for fire-crisped marshmallows, many varieties of dessert and the occasional muscle testing.

I grilled the fish while Lemur played with toy guns and grownup buddies, and while Rivulet pulled up grass by her father's feet. Muad'Dib was engrossed in the many conversations to be had, be it with Fedaykin or any of the other stimulating minds we were in company with us that night.

After a brief fiasco with setting the fish on fire, we all sat around the picnic table and ate the Korean pickles (super yum), tasted each others offerings of meat, and sampled the salads. Some were able to taste Sangrea for the first time. Loved it. Rivulet took to eating fish like . . . a bigger fish eating smaller fish. Having downed half of Muad'Dib's slab, she dove for mine and made quite a dent there, as well, despite the occasional bone I had to spirit away from her mouth at the last second.

Then it turned windy for a while. Not the weather, but the conversation. With Muad'Dib in the mix, who can guess the topic that stirred up the table?

Capitalism, Consecration, Socialism, Monopolies, Paradigms, Assumptions, definitions of all these and more.
Poor self-proclaimed Socialist Sally.

Everyone knows how wound up I get when talking about . . . um anything really, but mainly spiritual matters: particularly with Trailblazer.

This was just like that. In fact, I can now understand why he so enjoys pushing my buttons: the reactions are monumentally fulfilling.

After recognizing that a full discussion could not be had until we all understood the "correct" definitions of these words that were flying around the table like friendly fire around a confused battlefield, we adjourned to the fire pit and the bags of fluffy corn syrup that awaited roasting.

Once there, the conversation persisted for only a few moments - and mainly between Muad'Dib and SS. In the meantime, the rest of us were laughing, conversing and marshmallow toasting until my husband and I had to convince our son to eat something.

The sun was setting behind the hill to the west, and as we were in a valley, night came a bit swifter then normal. But warmed by the fire and the company, we all remained content in the particularly interesting backyard provided by our lovely host.

And then, I can't remember what actually got us on the subject, though I think it had something to do with a little black pouch hanging around my neck. And before I knew it, there was energy/muscle testing happening on the lawn around the fire pit. Using my LOL pouch, I was able to demonstrate to one, then a few, then to nearly all the affect that an outside source can have on your energy.

It was awesome!

In fact, for one friend, this was the first she had heard of "energy" and all that. It was awesome. Did I say that already?

Others arrived just at that point, and we headed inside for some delicious desserts. Ever more friends entered the scene and I remembered what was meant by "the more the merrier." If we were "merry" before, surely we were "merrier" after the addition.

And then the night drew to a close, for us: the ones with the kidlets who required bed. And though we left, I'm sure, hours before any of the others even considered vacating the premises, I can say with satisfaction that we left happy. It makes me grateful that last year at this time I "let" Muad'Dib audition for and perform in a little play called The Scarlet Pimpernel. For these friendships are a product of that production. So worth it!

It was awesome!
Seriously, did I say that already?

Bulletin

Good news! Muad'Dib got a new schedule! So now, instead of having Wends and Thurs off, he will now have Sunday and Monday off while working the same hours!!! Yay my hubby gets to come to church with me!!! I'm so happy. And I wanted to share my joy with you all!

Blog, Blog, Bliggity Blog

Secret Garden is coming along nicely. We did our first real run through with everyone there last night. Granted, we rehearsed in an oven, but the run still went pretty well. Next week we start doing run throughs every night . . . and the week after: dress rehearsals. The kids have been great so far. We either have them outside with us or in the A/C of the green room. They usually spend thier time charming the other cast members, playing, watching a movie on the portable DVD player or learning to walk. Muad'Dib and I basically take turns with Rivulet, being as we are on stage at the same time only twice, and they are both at the end of the show.

Well, here's a look at what we've been doing:

Muad'Dib and Sally singing "Girl in the Valley" in the ampitheater. FYI, the seats you see are reserved seats, but you can also bring blankets and camp chairs opting to sit on the grass behind the chairs.

This is the only pic we have of me. I'm admiring the "dull purple sea" aka, the moor; trying to convice Mary that it's a good idea to go outside and play.
Then here is Muad'Dib singing "Someone's Crying," with Sally in the backround.
So, there it is. An update. I have been told that tickets are $12 for adults and $9 for children and seniors (children being 3-11 yrs), and are currently on sale if you call the DAC or visit the web page @ www.davisartscouncil.com We will have at least eight complimentary tickets for the show. They will go to those willing to watch the kids either the week before or week of performances. So if you'd like a free ticket just remember this: Exchange creates wealth!

Happy to oblige.

This may be on Desertbound's blog, but it's my favorite and I took it, so it's on mine too. She's beautiful, isn't she? Thanks for letting me take pictures of you and your girls. And for the food and fun and all. You are just so gorgeous!!!!

A break from the norm

The doctor called it ‘night terrors’. He said my son would grow out of it. My mother said I’d been the same way when I was little. Screaming in the middle of the night, sleep walking, shouting nonsense, hitting and kicking in my sleep, going to bed in one place and waking up in another. She said it was nothing to worry about. But if my son was going through what I went through, I was terrified.
I can’t honestly say I remember all the dreams that haunted and taunted me through my formative years, but a few are branded on my memory. The fear, the voices, the challenges of these nightmares to this day strike a primal chord within me.

It didn’t take long to recognize that Banner wasn’t going to sleep no matter where he was. Sleeping alone, he would scream and wake up. Even sleeping with us did nothing to ease his unrest. I specifically recall a night when he was so wound up he was virtually beating himself. He repeatedly hit his belly with his own little fists so hard that the next morning, he had faint bruises. He would kick and kick and kick. Once he kicked himself right off the bed.

He was always asleep when this happened. He wasn’t rational, he wouldn’t open his eyes. When he got older and could speak, he would say the strangest things.

By the time Banner was two, he was almost impossible to handle in these night terror situations. The doctor told me not to worry. Just let him cry, he’ll be fine. My mother told me to take him outside, that the cold would jar him out of sleep. My husband and I tried everything from softly cooing to outright yelling. I won’t lie. At the end of my rope, I slapped him across the face once. Only once. I can’t imagine how other people can beat their children repeatedly. And yet, I can. What’s amazing is that none of these tactics brought my son out of his nightmares.

As one can imagine, we were an ‘on edge’ family. My son was an angel during the day. He was loving, intelligent, curious, gentle, fun, downright delightful. But during the night something else took hold of him. We bought him a bigger bed and to ensure that my husband got the sleep he needed, I slept in Banner’s room with him.

Before long, it seemed that Banner and I were sharing dreams. If something in my dream were funny, I could hear and feel Banner laugh. If my dream were at all frightening or overly vivid (as they have been my whole life) he would scream or roll over, putting his chubby arms around my neck saying, "Mommie, Hug me!" I started to wonder what that meant. How could I have known? How could I have ever imagined?

I guess I'm a visual learner . . .

The lesson for which I needed a visual display?
My husband loves me!



I'll bet there are those who are right now asking with concern, "You didn't know that before?"



Well sure I did (do). Woven into the fabric of my every day existence is the knowledge that Muad'Dib loves me. But as most knowledge, sometimes we know it so well, we forget that we know it and when we are reminded: it takes our breath away.



Last night we were at rehearsal. I was having an emotional reaction which in some ways is like an allergic reaction. The symptoms being watery eyes, crankyness, flushed skin and swelling (though mostly of the eyes, heart and anger gland). As is normal for me, it took a while to redirect the overflow of emotional energy, and in the meantime it hit a few people, including (though not limited to) my son and husband.



Muad'Dib sighed as I sat next to him. I was trying to calm down but instead merely vented. Poor receptical for my emotional waste. Before long he got up and I decided to feel hurt and angry that he would be bothered by me and my "honest" show of emotion. So for a moment or two, I stared angrily at the stage and the performers on it, shooting daggers from my eyes.



Then I looked up. Trying to find Muad'Dib, hoping to "talk" some more, with my eyes I searched the ampitheater for him. He was on the far side, pushing Rivulet up the hill in her stroller to keep her calm. Do you know why he was doing that?
For me.



In that moment I realized he was giving up conversations with friends, practice of lines and character introspection time becuase he believed that taking care of Rivulet for a moment, far away, would make me feel better. Seeing his love pulled me up short and cleared my head. All he wanted was for this experience to be a good one. He works hard every day (because even a day off at the PO is a work day at Coldwater Canyon) to give me the life that I want. His main goal for being in this play was to spend time with ME. And what was I giving him in return?



Shoot.

What a spoiled Diva I was being. How sad that I projected feelings that led him to believe I was angry at our children.
So I changed. And not fake angry change, either. I really decided how to improve what was in my control, and how to accept or release the rest.



The rest of the evening was great. Hopefully he felt it too. I can choose to be happy and positively progress in order to create a worthwhile experience for my husband and, consequently, for me. Apparently, I just needed a little visual reminder.
Thanks, Muad'Dib.

Apparently, I'm bored.

While waiting for laundry to emerge from the dryer, and while my children are behaving VERY well, I find myself surfing the blogs this afternoon. So, in the spirit of Wildbound, off we go.

1. What time did you get up this morning? Because we got home late, Muad'Dib let me sleep in until 9.
2. Diamonds or pearls? Have to go with Pearls. I like a sparkely diamond as much as the next girl (they are our best friends, after all) but there is something warm and feminine about a string of pearls, or one that hangs delicatly from a chain on the smooth white skin in the hollow of your throat . . . Ummm. pearls.
3. What was the last film you saw at the cinema? Ratatouille. Not at all like the previews and full of valuable lessons. Very surprised with the voice choice of Linguini. It's the teacher from Incredibles.
4. What are your favorite TV shows? Angel, Buffy, Bones, Medium, The Office and 30 Rock.
5. What did you have for breakfast this morning? An application of the fifth amendment works nicely here . . .
6. What is your favorite cuisine? grilled
8. What foods do you dislike? There used to be a lot. Now I can't think of anything. Is that a good or bad thing?
9. Favorite chips? Fritos
10. What is your favorite CD at the moment? Sons of Provo "With every fiber of my being I'll be true to thee, as I magnify our love as a missionary. Just put your life on pause, we can fastforward when I get back (ack, ack)."
11. What kind of car do you drive? Gold Oldsmobile Sillhouette 2001
12. What is your favorite sandwich? Roast beef with romaine lettuce, Muenster cheese, Mayo, mustard, tomatoes and the veggie du jour. (zuchinni, avacado etc)
13. Which came first, the chickien or the egg? I really dislike this question because it is not asked for informational purposes. It is basically asked with one person sneering at another, hoping to get a rise out of them as they defend their response. Questions for argument sake alone aren't worth asking or answering.
14. What are your favorite clothes? Right now I don't feel comfortable in anything I wear. Back in the day it was my plaid pajama pants and fitted blue Old Navy shirt.
15. If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation where would you go? Scotland or that big water park with Muad'Dib in Brazil. I'd also like to see Peru.
16. Favorite brand of clothing? I'm going to have to go with Wildbound and say no clothes is good. But if I must pick a brand . . . Old Navy.
17. Where would you want to retire? Retirement is not a 'goal' I spend my time on. Where do I want to live the most of my days? Somewhere near water where it rains alot.
18. Favorite time of day? Sunset or the middle of the night when I can see all the stars and Max is overhead.
20. What is your favorite sport to watch? Soccor or Muad'Dib sword fighting
23. Pepsi or Coke? I don't drink either anymore, but in the day Pepsi over Coke and Diet Coke over Diet Pepsi. But best soda ever? Still Ginger ale.
24. Favorite Animal? Penguin
25. Are you a morning person or a night owl? I am consistantly in a better mood in the evening. I think it's my years of theatrical programming.
26. Pedicure or manicure? Pedicure. But Playing with my hair is better than almost anything else I can think of
27. Any new and exciting news you'd like to share? My friend and my sister-in-law are pregnant. My 30 yr old friend is getting married to a great guy. Rivulet has two teeth. Lemur knows who Joseph Smith is. I find that exciting.
28. What did you want to be when you were little? A marine biologist, a lawyer, a forensic specialist, a crime scene analist, a princess, a wife, a mother, an author.
29. What is your best childhood memory? I have had a great enough life that I can't pick one "best" memory. But in the intrest of sharing, I'll go with the morning my parents woke us up for Scripture study and prayer, we all sat on my parents bed talking about our favorite memories, laughing so much it hurt.
30. Piercings?Just my ears. But I don't wear earings. My ears only take sterling silver, and those earings are expensive.
31. Ever been toilet papering? Yes, once. But I'm much more proud of the time I decorated a boys room with rose bush branches and green crepe paper to answer him for a dance.
32. Favorite day of the week? Muad'Dib's day off.
33. Favorite restaurant? Most consistantly: Chili's
36. Favorite ice cream? Mint Chocolate Chip or Lemon Custard.
37. Favorite fast food chain? Wendy's.
38. How many times did you fail your drivers test? Never
39. From whom did you get your last email? Kira
40. In which store would you choose to max out your Credit card? No credit card. But spend all the money in my account? I could do it anywhere. Is that a good thing or a bad thing?
41. Bedtime? Anytime
43. Last person you went to dinner with? Out to dinner? My brother and sister.
44. What are you listening to right now? An Episode of Bones.
45. Your favorite color? Generic answer: Red. More honest answer: whatever makes me feel good and resonates with my soul when faced with it.
46. Biggest or most memorable scar? C-section scar.
48. 4 jobs I've had in my life: Bookseller, Actress, Singer, Personal Assistant
49. Four films you could watch over and over: Dune, Children of Dune, Pride and Prejudice, Enchanted April
49. Four places you have lived: Ogden, North Ogden, Rock Springs, Wyo. That's it.
50. Four places you have been on vacation: Carmel-by-the-Sea, Bear Lake, Lake Powell, Japan
51. Four places I'd rather be right now. My grandma's ranch, the mall with a wad of spending cash, in Muad'Dib's arms, Lake Powell (Willow Creek)
52. Four people not living you'd like sit down and have dinner with? Grandpa Jack, Marie Antoinette, Martin Luther, Grandma Phiz.
53. Three things that might be your Soul Purpose? Besides motherhood and wifehood: Author, Actress/acting coach, life coach.

Dinner and a show . . .

Dinner at the Mountain Road Ranch on the last day of B&B's trip. A few clips of the evening, though there are more pics, if anyone wants them.
Almost what I envisioned. I love feeling beautiful.
This is called a "Gibson Tuck". The hair, I mean, not the fencing jab ( as seen below)

Muad'Dib imparts his sword-fighting wisdom; advising Wildbound and BigBlue to take a fencing stance, not come charging all willy-nilly like they would with a broadsword.
Very Good, my young Padawan . . .
NatureGirl

Aren't these Nelson women beautiful?!

And the Clansmen all handsome, rugged and brave?

Pick a little, talk a little. Some kids were content with pea picking, while others were found in the orchard, having adorned themselves in apricot "war paint."



Who loves Wildbound? WILDMAN!

Rock and NatureGirl share a moment of not-so-private mirth during the game . . .
Where else can you hear things like, "Trailblazer, are you Jane Eyre," "Justin are you "Ave Maria," or
"Bethany, are you Stargirl?" She is, by the way.

Show and Tell

Blogs are not only pictures. They are also not really schools of thought. More like Show-and-Tells of thought. So what are mine?

There are not many people in the world brave or honest enough to own up to their thoughts. We hope that we may always keep them to ourselves; that no one may know the negative or self-destructive language we employ in the confines of our own brain. We even hide the many positives, the moments of self love that burst upon our conciousness, because in many cases we have been conditioned that it's not appropriate or acceptable to "toot one's own horn."

I can imagine that anyone reading this is wondering which of these catagories my thoughts today fall into. Am I basking in the wonderfulness that is mine? Am I amazed at how simplistic and lovely my ability to think is? Am I marveling at the beauty of my very attractive face, particularly my perfectly shaped mouth? Am I giggeling inside at the antics of my adorable, almost entirely naked children as they run, crawl and otherwise arrage themselves about the apartment? Am I thinking about how great it feels to be on stage again? Am I considering character analysis, hoping to flesh out and portray an entirely 3-Demensional Yorkshire maid? Am I filled with ideas and sentances for a novel, having them pour from my sharp mind into a freeflowing, intellect ehancing story? Am I remembering my many "Life Moments" where I felt so in tune with myself and my surroundings that I could literally feel everything click?

Or am I instead wallowing in my lack of functioning willpower? Am I looking into my near future, feeling hopeless with the one looming "problem" that I seem unable to change? Do I spend my time (a currency, if you will) moping about my physical limitations that keep me from hikes, romantic roles opposite my husband or merely jumping rope? Am I festering in my conflicting need for help and the fear that I am too needy? Am I wondering if my insecurities are somehow building a wall between my husband and I that he will be unable to breech? Am I concerned about being a good wife, while not crossing the line into "crazy affection spouting wife?" Do I fear that I am a failure as a cousin, sister, sister-in-law, daughter or church member?

Becausethis is a blog, the examples are evened to create for you, the reader, a mystery of sorts. Is she positive, or is she negative? Is she trapped or is she free? Is she singing to her children in joy and happiness or ready to tear her hair out in young-mother desperation?

Well, one side could not exist without the other, right? "Opposition in all things" and all that rot. "It's this day, not me that's bound to go away." Well, right now, the day is not the problem. I am. My own self-sabotaging thoughts and habits. My hackles (figurative, of course) rise when I realize how much 'victim speech' I'm using in any given converstaion.

I scrub my language. I work hard at taking emotional and physical responsibility for my life. I created it, right? I am an all powerful creator? I hit the tuning fork and by so doing recieve only that note back to me? My hands are on the proverbial steering wheel? Perhaps some days it is easier to be helpless. To think that "it" is out of my control and therefore I am entitled to curl up in a ball and wait for "it" to be "fixed" by someone else.

See the drama triangle in this thinking? Yeah. I was comfortable in the drama triangle for so long, that sometimes it still feels like home. I learned how to accept responsibility. Then . . . what? I get really empowered and happy until I seem to have no effect on this one thing. Then, as Yeats said in his poem, The Second Coming, "Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold."

Okay, you caught me. No real mystery, I guess. This morning I am wrapped in my familiar blanket of self analysis, which consistantly finds me wanting. And do you know what always tips the scales? That one thing. The "IT" I feel I have no power or control over. "It" tarnishes everything it touches, and sadly, "IT" touches everything. Deep down I am smart enough to realize that by capitalizing "IT" and quoting "IT" as though it were a something separate from me, I give it mental and emotional power. I also withdraw from the responsibility. I just don't know what else to do. I just don't.

I'm not asking for a solution. I needed to express my feelings before they overtook me and I was unable to communicate with other humans like a calm and rational, sometimes funny, woman. But then I can't help but wonder if this is like using my blog for an emotional dump. Is that my right? Perhaps i should warn readers so they wouldn't have to endure my emotional rantings if they chose not to. I normally end happily. I try hard to, so that it will be a worthwhile entry to read.

This morning, I got nothing. I have no solution that I like enough to own.

"I have heard the key

Turn in the door once and turn once only

We think of the key, each in his prison

Thinking of the key, each confirms a prison."

T.S. Elliot, The Wasteland

Well, there. There are my thoughts. Does that make me brave? Or honest? Does it mean something else entirely. Or worse, does it mean nothing at all?

My Country, 'tis of thee . . .

For those of you who did not join us at Weber High for the traditional display of fireworks timed to (mostly) patriotic music here is what you missed: Smooching, munching, cuddling, and otherwise basking in the glow of my daughter's presence.
Frisbee, or as Lemur knows how to play: fetch.
Sword fighting. Muad'Dib was the one to beat, it seemed. But the other "warriors" gave him a run for his money!
Beautiful Nelson women. And, of course, a spectacular celebration of our nation's birth.

I have never been so emotionally invested in a fireworks display. But this year there was something different: I actually loved my country. I have a better understanding of why it was created, how it was created, and what that creation means to me. And I don't know if anyone else is like this, but I have to understand what something means to me to be able to appreciate it. Self-Interest, I guess. I have so much more to learn . . . who knows if I'll ever be able to learn it all. It is enough, I guess that last night I didn't just think of the entertaining lights flashing over my head, or of my children's reactions, or of how pretty my face was, adorned by wonder and pale colored light. Instead, I was reminded of something entirely different: battles. Many battles, revolutions, bullets and bombs that had soared, shattered or exploded over the heads of brave men and women who were willing to die to create, sustain and protect this country.

Anyone else see Band of Brothers? In episode 7, "The Breaking Point", where Carwood Lipton is laying in a frozen, snow covered foxhole in the forest outside of Foy as a barrage of shells explode trees and earth all around him. He says that he started laughing because it reminded him of watching fireworks on the 4rth of July with his Dad and brother. During that barrage, he later discovered that two of his friends were torn up really bad.

Watching the fireworks last night, I cried thinking of this. There are men and women fighting now for our country, and for what they believe in. Or, at least I hope they are fighting for something they believe in. My heart is so full of gratitude for the sacrifices which have been made so I could sit on a lawn with my children, listening to music that expressed such thoughts as "God Bless America" while having no fear for my safety. That is a gift I'll not dishonor.

I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America, and to the republic for which it stands; one nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.

Parade of Candy

O say does that Star Spangled Banner yet wave o'er the land of the free and the home of the brave? Today it did. As we came together to celebrate the creation of our nation, I snapped a few pictures of family in the July 4rth early morning heat!

A gift

Monday was rough. I woke up with inexplicable pain, which has tormented me for the past few days, in my wrists, ankles and lower back. I lost my glasses at North Shore on Saturday, so had eye over-exhurtion pain in my head.

Muad'Dib went to work like a good little boy and I tried to positively face the day which would consist of cleaning my horribly cluttered and disarrayed home. We recently rented a storage facility so I could feel like I had more "living space." So for the past few days I had been cleaning out our closets of the more seasonal use items (seasonal also meaning "when a baby is little"). This, despite making more closet space, made less floor space because do you know what I found? LOTS OF JUNK!

It was every where. Junk in our files (from like, before we were married), in my drawers, in pockets of old jeans.

At the end of my rope and at the edge of sanity I tearfully call my neices. And guess what? Two of them came running to my aid. For an hour and a half, Michex and Mayflower took Lemur and Rivulet for a walk to the park. I was able to clean every room of my home while they were gone. There are not words capable of describing how grateful I was and am. My sanity saved, I offer gratitude to my wonderful neices. Thank you, you gave me a better day.

Welcome to Existance!

Yesterday, Nelson Baby Girl was given her name, by her father and the other men in her extended family. We all welcomed Jane Heather Nelson to the clan, and what a party it was!!Happy little family!
Then, well, back at the Watts house, there was just so much cuddling going on . . .
Naturegirl with Rivulet
Scout and Trailblazer

Taun "loving on" BigBlue, who was adorable all tuckered out.

NatureGirl couldn't get enough of new Jane, or as she is called in some circles, She Who Loves Her Fists.
BigBlue with Little Fists
Even Mayflower got to snuggle Litte Fist. Jealous yet, Bethany? Soon it will be your turn!!!!