Zippity Do Dah or I Am Not A Morning Person

Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah
My oh my, what a wonderful day
Plenty of sunshine heading my way
Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah
Zip-A-Dee-A

Mister bluebird on my shoulder
It's the truth
It's actual
Everything is satisfactual

Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah
Zip-A-Dee-A
Wonderful feeling
Wonderful day...

Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah. We all know this little ditty... Great song. But not at 6:30 in the morning.

My sleep patterns are erratic. My mother told me from the day I arrived in the world I did not want to sleep at night. I still have some difficulty with that nighttime sleeping business. My ideal sleep schedule would be go to sleep at 3-4 AM and get up about 10:30. AM. The rest of the world doesn't function within that schedule all that much. When I lived in Indonesia, there is a 13 hour time difference, 10 AM in Colorado is 11 PM in Indonesia. I slept pretty well there. My sleep rhythm is much more suited that time zone.

Him, on the other hand, after 13 years of retirement, still wakes between 5 and 6 AM no matter where in the world he is. He sleeps until 7 every couple of months.

I wake up sleepy and groggy. He gets up, literally, singing or whistling Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah. It hurts my head for someone to be so chipper and chatty so early. Him learned a long time ago to take his happy to work, now to his man cave, and not to share it with me. Dimples is an early riser. She has the best part of her day from 7-12 every day. She is so cute and chatty when she comes into my bed for a cuddle for 10-15 minutes before we start the day. The best part of the day is when she comes running from her room to my bed and we wake up together.

Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah may not be echoing through the house out loud very often these days but the spirit of it is still ringing thorough the house house by the very attitude that abides here.

Are you a morning person a groggy waker?

Y2K or Other Reasons to Prepare

Y2K... You remember the day the world was supposed to go crashing into the sun? We as a world, tried to prepare for the imminent disaster that was going to happen. The stock market was going to crash. All financial services were going to come to a halt. And all utilities would be out of service for who knows how long... That Y2K.

Him and I were living in Indonesia at the time. He was in charge of the entire IT department for his and the national Telecommunications company for all of West Java. He and his team would be responsible for getting everything back up before we crashed into the sun. It was a big deal. And because we were on the other side of the date line and one of the first places that would be effected by Y2K it was a bigger deal. The baby bell in Colorado would be watching with interest.

They all decided if the earth was in fact going to crash into the sun, they should have a party and we should all be together to observe the carnage. There was food, party hats and horns. It was after all, New Years Eve. We gathered at the company offices, 8 stories above all the revelry on the streets below. As the new year ticked into existence, we all huddled around a computer to see if it quit working, blew up or kept running.

As y'all know. It was a bust. The world didn't implode, the markets were fine, everyone still had electricity and automobiles were still running.

One result of the Y2K scare was people were quickly trying to get foodstuffs and water stored in case there was mayhem. They were frightened to think their way of life was going to get disrupted somehow. They did not know how to prepare or know what they needed to do.

The LDS Church has long been a proponent of being prepared. We are advised to have a years worth of specific foodstuffs. We are advised to have as much water as we can. We are supposed to have fuel, a means of heating our house in the event of loss of power and have some cash on hand. I suppose there are things on this list that would be harder than others for some people to gather. We are not hoarders. This is not end of the world preparations. We are to have this in the event of life. A lost job, a winter storm, financial changes and the like would be much easier with a little foresight and preparation. I know a family that lived out of food storage for the two years it took him to find another job. Not having to buy food for a family of five, relieved a great burden for this family. Being in Indonesia for Y2K, with my food storage in Colorado and having no way to store food where I lived, was a more than a little disconcerting.

We are supposed to be prepared to meet our Savior and Heavenly Father. This is a slightly more difficult proposition then getting some food together. It should be a higher priority. But just like storing the essentials in food storage, preparing to return to our Father requires some planning, more than gathering food together in the basement.

Firs, we need to know what we want to do. We need to know what our goal is. We need to prepare by doing the things we have been commanded to do, even when it is hard. Not getting back where we want to be will be a bigger disaster than if Y2K had actually happened the way they predicted. Like food storage, we need to make up our minds to prepare, then be about the business of taking the steps to get it done. Preparation makes everything easier and less stressful. It also makes achieving that goal much more likely to actually happen.


Are you prepared for the challenges the business of living throws at you?

X- Challanged or Why I Dont Have A Decent X Post

I never know what to do with an X. Wen playing Words With Friends drawing an Xmakes me shudder a little bit.

I can usually find somewhere to put an X in the middle of a word, but most of the other X words I know are proper nouns.

So this is my tribute to the mighty X.

Weather or Why Mother is So Fickle

Mother Nature is so very difficult. We cannot reason with her. We cannot talk to her. Sme of us have tried pleading, even begging her to stop snowing on us...

It was snowing when I left home for Minneapolis to visit my dad. I was happy I was leaving the snow to come where it was actually Spring. Not so. Two days after I arrived we had 8" of snow. Yay. But, the got at least 14" of snow back home. So there is that.

We are supposed to get 5" of snow here tonight. erk.

I fear we will only have two weeks of summer beginning July 23rd. Mother Nature does not care. She will do what she will do.

I will not whine about the snow over much. We need the moisture. Snow or rain is critical in my little town. It helps us so we won't be sucking smoke all summer. Regardless of the intellectual understanding of why we need the moisture, I'm ready for the rains to come and be done with the snow.


Is it Spring where you are?

Virtue or What I Strive For Everyday

There are vary virtues. Mr. Webster defines it as:

1. the quality of doing what is right and avoiding what is wrong
2. any admirable quality or attribute
3. morality with respect to sexual relations
4. a particular moral excellence

The following is a list of the virtues I am striving to achieve in my life.


Temperance is a virtue. The ability to control the need for instant gratification.
Good temper is a virtue. The ability to not only not get angry, but to be happy while you live this life.
Ambition - self-control regarding one's goals
Contentment - self-control regarding one's possessions and the possessions of others; acknowledgement and
Courage - being able to do what is right no matter the situation.
Patience - being patient is not like there having a bucket to hold your patience in. You don't empty it and run out of patience. We have all the patience in the world, if we choose to exercise it.
Persistence - this is the stick to it virtue. Finish what you start and start what you will finish.
Fair-mindedness - be fair. be happy when someone else succeeds Give yourself the same fair mindedness, whether you win or lose.
Tolerance - the ability to accept that others make choices or live their lives differently. Accept it and move on
Honesty - be honest in all that you do. I don't think this applies telling your friend that dress makes her butt look big and that you hate it. Of course this depends on the friend.
Respect - everyone deserves respect. There should be no room in our hearts to be mean and hateful to anyone you come in contact with.
Self respect - respect for ourselves. To stay true to our convictions and forgiving ourselves when we forget this virtue..
Kindness- there is no reason we can't be kind to everyone we meet. It doesn't mean we have to sit and break bread with the dirty, scary homeless guy, but we don't have to treat him with disgust and disregard when we see him. Life is already hard enough.
Kindness - play nice. We will be better for it.
Generosity - help those who have less. Even if you have little ourselves. Give what you can when you can.
Forgiveness - the ability to get over it. Let it go. In the grand scheme of things there is little that will matter in five months let alone five years.
Compassion - compassion and empathy go hand in hand. The ability to see the struggles and pain someone is going through. And to feel their sorrow.

These are not intended to be commentary on anyone except myself. This is not a comprehensive list by any means. These are some virtues I want. I want to be less judgmental. I want to learn forgiveness better. More patience is critical with a three year old around. I have advanced from a bucket to a Rubbermaid tub to hold my patience in.

Virtues are the things we strive for. Things that will make us kinder, gentler and better people. The more virtues we are able to incorporate into our daily lives while not have to be conscious of trying to exercise a virtue, but have it be a natural action or reaction, the happier we will be and the happier those around us can be.

I want to be virtuous. I want people to want to be around me. I want people to know my word is gold. I have a long way to go but...I've come a long way.

What virtues are you striving for?

Urgency or Why I Try To Relax

There is a sense of urgency in our society. The need to get somewhere quickly. Needing to have supper by a certain time so everyone can head off in different directions to do things that are urgent. One only has to watch drivers during rush hour in any city in America to see people almost frantic with their urgent need to be somewhere and traffic is messing up their entire day. Rushing kids to school, running through an airport, scrambling to get the lesson finished or changing how you eat to be healthier or thinner or because that is how your friend cooks. There is even a sense of urgency about the way we play. There are some that want to do it all. Just look at the number of extreme sports and the increasing number of participants in them.

I often wonder if they were this frantic 100 years ago.

Of course, there are things in life that require urgency. Hurt people need tending. Crops need to be harvested before rain moves in. Babies will not wait to be born. These, and other events must be treated with urgency. But...most of the urgency in our lives could be avoided with more planning. Or in my case, paying better attention to what I'm doing in the first place.

I have almost reached a point in my life where I can honestly say I don't get excited unless someone is bleeding not breathing or floating down the river when they shouldn't be. There just isn't that much that gets me too excited anymore. I suppose that comes with age. I just can't worry about the little things anymore. It's too exhausting.

When I travel, I have my bag packed a week before my travel day. It helps me remember everything, saving me from purchasing needed items with travel money. I have all the clothes I want in the suitcase. This eliminates the need to do laundry two days before I leave so all my clothes can dry on racks since I don't use the dryer for my clothes. I don't have to pack dirty or wet clothes. My cosmetic bag or carry on bag sits on my bathroom counter filled with everything I will need and is available for me to put in last minute items... I realize this habit makes many think I am a little OCD about my packing habits. Not so. It prevents the urgency and anxiety of packing at the last moment.

Proper planning removes the urgency of what to cook for supper. I'm very lucky here because Him cooks as much or more than I do and will eat anything as long as it fills the hole. He will eat popcorn for supper, so there is no urgency for me in that regard.

We should slow down. Enjoy the quiet times of life. Planning will certainly help, but not feeling the need to do it all, for everyone, the instant they want it will help considerably. Being in a constant state of urgency is stressful both physically and emotionally. I tried to give it up some years ago. Some days I even succeed.


Is your life full of urgency?

Television or Why I Don't Watch Much

We have a number of televisions in our home. Him watches a few times a week. He watches the news some, mostly to get financial information, and to make sure there isn't eminent danger from a zombie attack, vampires taking over the world or any mosquitos damaged in a nuclear accident swarming our way. Other than that he learns on the Syfy channel how to defend against those events and more. He insists the programs are instructional and crucial to our survival.

I on the other hand prefer cheesy detective programs, occasionally NCIS, which are not so cheesy detective shows. I like The Voice, a lot. I manage to catch to maybe three shows a season. I like Project Runway. Again a show or two each season. If I turn the television on I usually watch The Mentalist, Castle or Bones all day. If I watch at night, I'm going to be up late because I will get involved in a movie. I can't walk away from a movie, no matter how dumb it is or if I have already seen it. Unless I'm spinning or knitting I don't turn it on.

Television is mindless entertainment. Sometimes we need that. Something that does not require us to think. Something that takes us to another place that is far away from the problems in our life. I would rather read a book.

Television is so mesmerizing that your metabolism drops to a level 14% lower than when you're asleep. It's no wonder people who watch hours every day are called couch potatoes. Our bodies slow to that of a potato. We almost go to a full stop. It's also why I can eat a whole bag of kettle chips. I'm hypnotized and don't know what's going on.

I recently had a procedure that required me to be on a clear liquid diet for 24 hours followed by twelve hours of fasting. I made the mistake of watching television to entertain my brain and take my mind off the 437th cup of broth I was having that day. I never realized how many commercials there are that deal with food or products used to prepare food. They are of course designed to make you go to the kitchen during a commercial and get a bag of kettle chips.

I decided a long time ago that televising stunts my creative process. Not to mention stunting my ability to get motivated to clean my house. We didn't have a television for many years when curly was growing up just so she wouldn't watch every spare moment.

It's better for me not to turn it on. I can't abide the constant noise. My dad has the television on 24 hours a day. He sleeps with it on. He used to sleep with the radio was on back in the day when television were a piece of furniture nearly as big as the sofa. When I visit here it Is deafening even though he keeps the volume fairly low. He just needs the background noise, he's not even paying attention to it while he works crossword puzzles or is napping. I cannot concentrate with all the noise.

There are good things on the television. Toddler tv is amazing and very educational. Dimples has learned much from watching Kipper, Super Why and Sid the Science Kid. And I know that Him will be able to protect us when the zombies make their move.

What do you watch to educate you brain.

Seniors, Or My Love Affair With The Elderly

But old people just grow lonesome,
Waiting for someone to say, "Hello in there, hello"
- Joan Baez, Hello In There


Elderly, Seniors, Senior Citizen, Old Lady, Old Man, Old Biddy, Geezer, Codger. There are many names for the Seniors in our society. I love them, even when they are kind of crotchety. They've lived a long time, sometimes they had very hard lives. A crotchety old person is easier to take than a crotchety young person.

I haven't always had this tenderness for the Elderly. There was a time in my youth when the elderly were just creepy old people who smelled funny.

Then my grandparents turned in to little old people. Then they went into a nursing home with rooms full of little old people who were all alone. It touched me, these people whose families treated them like creepy old people to be forgotten because they were out of sight. My love affair with seniors started then.

Then my mother was becoming a little old woman. She was frail. She refused to use her walker or be in a wheelchair, but conceded to riding in the electric cart at the store. She stopped driving years ago because her reflexes were to slow and her eyesight wasn't so good. Before she passed last year I spent as much time as I could with her, her arm in mine, as we walked from the car to the store where she would get on her "scooter" and make her way through the store.

I will offer to help a little old woman or man into the store or out of the store and always offer to push their cart for them. I hoped someone would do it for my mom, even though my dad was always with her. I am forever offering to help seniors get something off the shelf, especially if it is something heavy, like a bag of sugar. Five pounds is pretty heavy for some of those frail people

My dad is going to be 82 this year. He qualifies as a senior citizen because of his age alone. You would have guessed him to be at least 10 years younger a year ago. He has aged considerably after losing his companion of 61 years. A year ago he had a smattering of grey in his full head of black hair. Now he has a smattering of black in his grey hair. I live in Montana, he lives in Minnesota so I only get to see him a few times a year. The transformation from strong older man to an elderly man has been swift and dramatic...I hope someone will offer to help him when he reaches that stage of his life.

There is a young couple living across the street form my dad. The young man lost his father two days after my mother passed. This sweet couple have taken it upon themselves to keep an eye on him. They check on my dad at least every other day. I am so grateful that they have tender feelings for the elderly of the world too.

I believe most people who are uncomfortable with the senior citizens of the world, are afraid of them. Afraid of what they represent. They reveal our future, our own mortality.

I love to talk with seniors. To listen to their stories. The ones they tell over and over again. Those are the important memories they have from a lifetime of living. There is so much wisdom to be gained from a person who has lived so long. Some of these people knew iceboxes, wood cookstoves and wagons then watched as the world developed jet planes, computers and cell phones. How can you not drink up the stories from those days, a life we have never experienced. We should learn from the minds that hold all that experience and wisdom. Those whose memories may be fading a little every day. The memories, stories and wisdom will be lost forever. They know what is happening, they may fear it too.

Be kind to these little, frail people that are such a blessing to our society. You may be the only person that spoke to them that day...


Do you say hello to the Seniors of society?

"R"eading or Why Reading is My First Love

I love to read. I know there are people in the world that never read. I never, ever saw anyone I associated with in Indonesia read anything other than a newspaper. It just isn't in their budget I suppose, when they are trying to get their rice and weeds for the day.

I remember the book that captured my attention and kept me that way for the rest of my life. I thought it was a grown up book when I was in the 6th grade. Mrs. Mike, by Benedict Freedman and Nancy Freedman. I don't actually remember much about it other than she lived in the Great White North and had a bunch of trying events she had to overcome. The second book I read that was in fact an adult book was, Rebecca, by Daphne du Maurier. A gothic suspense novel with murder, ghosts and fog. I loved it. That book is likely the reason I like trashy detective novels.

I read memoirs. I immerse my self in them, voyeuristically soaking in the details of someone's life. Real life. Real drama. Real pain. Books that make me want to shout to the world that we need to help the child soldiers, victims of genital mutilation, parents that that abused, neglected, and left broken children who became broken adults. I read them until I have to stop because it hurts me too much to read anymore.

I read trashy suspense and detective novels. I read trashy spy novels. I do not read trashy romance novels (it's okay if you read them!). Those just make me realize that I do not have Fabio for a husband and will never be swept off to a pirate ship on a white horse. I used to read High Fantasy. Avidly. I will go back to it someday, but after a few years of them, I realized that all of them were good vs. evil, but they became too predictable and they had too many pages dedicated to battles between the orcs and trolls, you can fill in the blank with your own good vs. evil fantasy characters. I occasionally read a book that has the latest breakthrough advice to help me be a better person. The advice is usually not true, or does not apply to my situation. I rarely read something the Doctor du jour wrote about a health issue I have. And less frequently a book about how to speak and listen to him better. I will not read a book when I have seen the movie, for at least 5 years. And the reverse is true, I don't go to the movie if I have read the book

I pick my books by the size of them, how fat they are on the shelf. I know most people read the back jacket, look at the cover and make a decision. It only makes sense to me that if I am going to fork over $8 to $15 for a book, it might as well be a 900 page book as opposed to a 234 page book. The reality of it is, I have not purchase a paper book for myself in quite a few years. I am all about ebooks. First on my Kindle, then my iTouch and finally my iPad. I get 99% of my books free and the books I pay for are usually favorite books that are paper books in my library. I want these in my ebook library because I read them over and over. Mostly I buy a few that are for Dimples, though a good percent of hers are free books I am always on the look out for. We read a lot on the Kindle app. I just bought her a paper book, a collection of Disney Princess stories. She is all about Princess' you know.

I read my scriptures. I try to read them every day. I firmly believing that I speak to God through prayer and he speaks to me through the scriptures. If I read enough, I can learn how to better speak and listen to my husband. How to love my daughter better. How to follow those in the church that are doing their best as human beings to teach me how to be a better and more obedient daughter of my Heavenly Father. That is what I am striving for. I would probably be better off not read trashy detective novels, but that is my mindless entertainment when I finally get a little quiet in my life and I am not knitting. Though with the auto scroll feature on my iPad, I can read at the same time I am doing some mindless knitting, like a hat. How awesome is that. The two things I love most.

I love to read. I love that I can gain knowledge from reading. I love that I can be entertained by reading. I love reading with Dimples before bed and watching her learning to and loving to read. It is a great thing we have been blessed with in our time. All the books you could possibly want, all the adventures you could want to take at your fingertips.

"Q"uiet or Why I Prefer Silence.

Quiet. It is precious to me. I have always preferred quiet to noise. The noise of a radio. The noise of the TV. The noise of a washer, dryer, dishwasher, engine, barking dog... it does not really matter what the noise is, I can only ignore it for so long and then I want it to stop. Not that I want to stop hearing all together, I just don't want to hear noise.

For instance. I do not mind the singing of birds, particularly the beautiful mountain bluebirds we have here. I Do.Not want to hear them at 5:15 AM. Ever. Then they become noise. My house in Colorado sat on 4 acres surrounded by 60 acres that was undeveloped and the road ended at a locked gate half a mile from us. I heard a car go down the road every few days and that was likely a neighbor going home and I happened to be standing at the kitchen sink for some reason. My last house was situated so that my bedroom window was at patio level to a house that had 4 freshman college boys in it who thought kegger parties 4 nights a week was perfectly acceptable. No. Not ever. My current house has neighbors on both sides and a state highway 300 yards from my bedroom window. It is rarely quiet here. Except in my office which is on the opposite side of the house than the highway, and after about 7:30 PM.

Curly used to come home from school and be shocked I was sitting in a house full of silence. She on the other hand always has music playing, unless someone has the TV on. Most of her Facebook posts are about what she is listening to, going to listen to or the genre she is honed in on for the day. Music is one of the things that define who she is. While I have many devices to store and play music on, and I have a tremendous amount of mp3 files in iTunes. I could really care less. I listen to my music a time or two a month. Usually it is more of a soundscape that I have going.

I will say, I didn't realize how quiet my house was until an 18 month old Dimples came to live in it. Then my quiet time was after 8 when she finally cried/screamed herself to sleep. And she talked all the time. She still talks non-stop, but the screaming at bedtime has stopped. The screaming during the day has not.

I like quiet. It is one of the only reasons I like to camping... the quiet. It is one of the reasons I dislike cities. There is just too much noise. You can hear the cars rumbling through your car window. You can't get away from the sirens, the noisy traffic, and all those people chittering all the time. You couldn't hear a bird unless it got itself locked up with you in your hotel room.

I like quiet. I like to be able to think. To pay attention to whatever has my attention at the time. I like to hear the wind blowing through the tall grass, to hear the geese honking as they go over the house to the river. It gives me a better chance to hear the voices in my head. I like the quiet.


Do you enjoy the quiet or the busy rush of the world?

Peculiar or Why Normal Isn't That Normal

I am a Peculiar person. Not in the weird or creepy kinda peculiar person... Just your normal peculiar person.

I come from a long line of peculiar people. My dad is a peculiar person. The "Mormons" as a whole are considered a peculiar people. I'm a Mormon, so that is double qualification for the peculiar status.

My definition of peculiar likely isn't the same as Mr. Webster's definition. My idea of peculiar is someone or a group of someone's who are different. The may look different, think differently, or act differently. They are different from their friends, neighbors or society as a whole. They generally know they are peculiar and are okay with it... after they get old enough to get over the stigma of not being exactly the same as everyone else and quit trying to fit in by being like the rest of the busy bees at school.

I like peculiar people, it makes them interesting. Peculiar people also like eclectic things. Books, music, clothing and possibly the color of their hair. I like peculiar things. My house is full of peculiar things acquired from many different countries. I do not like peculiar food though. Ever.

I like being peculiar. I would never be classified as normal... Besides, normal is a setting on a washing machine. Who wants to aspire to that?


Are you a peculiar person?

"O"rder or Why I Like Things Just So

There is an Order to all things.

There are some who are not concerned with order At.All. I personally know people that are just that way. They live in a constant state of chaos and putting out fires because of the chaos all around them. I'm not sure they could really function if they had order in their lives. It isn't necessarily a bad thing, some people thrive in the chaos.

I need order. Even when I have what I think is order, I lose stuff. I can not move from my chair, doing one of my many hobbies and lose something. Two days ago while I was knitting, I put point protectors on my needles and put the knitting it in my knitting bag. I did some things on my iPad, not moving from the chair, took out my knitting and a point protector was missing. It was not in the bag, it was not on the floor, it was not in the chair beside the cushion, it was not on the end table or on the treadle machine next to my chair. It was GONE. I looked two or three times in the same places hoping it would just show up. It didn't. I looked again a couple of hours later because I can't stand it when that happens. I can't let it go easily. The next day I lost a pair of scissors. I looked in the cushion and there was the point protector... and the scissors.

If I had all the time I have spent looking for something I would have about 8 years of my life back. More often than not I am searching for something I put somewhere so I wouldn't lose it and I would remember exactly where I put it. Today I spent two hours looking for one of the two eye masks I use when I travel by train. I always put them in my night stand drawer. They are not to be found. I give up, I will just use the hood on my sweat shirt to cover my eyes.

Order helps keep my stuff reined in. I generally can tell him exactly where the tape is in the linen closet, where his keys are, or where the decongestant is in the closet, without having to get up and show him. It depends, of course,on how many people have been rooting in the closet and not putting it back where they got it from. It's my stuff I lose. Especially in my chair when I haven't moved.

There is an order to life. Spring follows Winter, Summer follows Spring, Autumn follows Summer and then we are back to Winter. We know these seasons will happen. Some seasons may be a little shorter or longer than we prefer, but it happens. In their Order. We know the sun will rise, day follows night. It may be cloudy or gloomy, but we know the sun is up there somewhere.

There is an Order to life. We are born, we can't wait to be grown-up, we get grown-up and realize how hard it is to take care of all the details of life. We also realize our parents weren't as bad or dumb as we thought. The we are climbing the hill, headed for the crest and wish we hadn't spent so much time worrying about the future and spent more time living in the present. When we start heading down the other side of that hill, we start to realize how short life is. We stop thinking about the past so much, though it takes up an incredible amount of our conversations, and we start thinking about the future. Then we start planning for the time when we will complete the "circle of life" and finish our race.

Everything has a purpose and a reason in this life we have been given. That Order is specifically designed to get us back where we belong on the other side. There is Order on the other side. Order keeps things simple. I keep inordinate amounts of lists. Lists help keep Order in my life. Other people can keep all the details of life in their heads. That doesn't work for me anymore. Order is important to me. The less Order and the more chaos around me, the harder it is for me to balance all the details of my life. There is Order. We need to find our place in it and embrace it when able. Even if one is surrounded by chaos, there is Order to life that we are not in control of. There is Order.


Do you have order or do you have chaos?

"N"ap or Why I Sleep Better During The Day

I like naps. No... I love to take naps. Sometimes it is for an hour, sometimes 4 hours. It all depends on how I slept the night before. Some people can't take naps because it messes up their nighttime sleep patterns. I generally sleep better if I have had a nap. I don't cruise to the point of trying stay up until bedtime, then get too tired and have that huge cortisol dump, commonly known as a second wind.

It can take me upwards of an hour of laying in the bed waiting for Mr. Sandman to quit hanging around somewhere else and get to my house at night. He has been known to skip my house all together. Him says he's going to lay down for a minute and if he's not asleep in two minutes he's up getting a Benadryl. Then he falls asleep 2 minutes after he has taken his sleep aid. That's so unfair.

It makes me a little jealous. And the fact that he goes to sleep so fast makes it harder for me to go to sleep or stay asleep. He started snoring about 8 years ago. It's not his fault, it happens as we age. He can't sleep with lights on, I can't sleep with noise, so it is a wee bit problematic. Even if I sleep, I will wake if he really gets going. I know I am not the only person to have this problem. And...apparently I started snoring in the last year so. There is some weird poetic justice there somewhere.

The interesting thing about taking a nap is I usually fall asleep in 5 minutes or less. I sleep deeper and wake feeling I've slept. I rarely feel that way after a night's sleep. I'm not sure what the difference is. Maybe it is because the ambient sounds are do different during the day. It could be the amount of light in the room. It could be that I have the whole bed to myself or the fact that I don't have a 70# standard poodle sneaking up and trying to hog the bed. No...this was happening long before dog lived here. Maybe it is because I am half Mexican/Spanish. I think they have that siesta tradition down pat. It should be a world wide policy to take a nap after lunch.

Dimples stopped napping a few weeks before she turned two. She refuses to take one based on the fact that it isn't dark yet. I don't know what she's going to do when it doesn't get dark until 10:30. If I have to take a nap when she's here, we both get into bed, I give her the iPad, tell her to turn the sound way down and to stay put for an hour. This doesn't happen often, but sometimes I'm falling asleep in my chair which gives her too many opportunities to get into something she shouldn't.

Him naps if he's really sick. Which is very seldom. But he encourages me to nap because lack of sleep contributes to my pain levels and more pain makes me difficult. A nap feels indulgent...to just go to my bedroom, shut the door, shut out the world and all the worries that go with it, then do nothing except rest for a while. I love naps. If I had to choose between napping or eating, I would nap.


Are you a nap taker?

"M"ental Health or Why I'm Not Crazy

There are many facets to Mental Health. We have had some really bad "events" happen in recent months. Some of them touched us more personally than others. People want to blame many of these events on Mental Health. Personally it seems to me that anyone who would kill someone, outside of a military operation, must be a little "crazy". How could you not be when you take another life that way?

I am Bipolar. Him is not keen on me sharing that information. He is afraid that I will be judged in every situation by it. That people will be afraid of or for me. That they will start judging whether I am capable of dealing with my job, calling or the daily rigors of just living life.

I on the other hand usually give the information out shortly into a new friendship. Why? Because though I am medicated and under control I do occasionally have episodes still. They are considerably minor compared some of those I had in the past when I would become a danger to myself. But if I'm all spun up because of the mania, and I am only getting 1-3 hours of sleep a night for weeks, my friends need to know.

I don't get the "Puppies and kittens, I can do anything" kind of mania. I rapid cycle. I'm depressed at the same time I'm manic. I will bite my husband's head off and spit it out if he challenges me or make me angry. I usually give it about a week to know I am in a manic episode, not just being cranky and mean, then I let him know what is happening. When he asked the doc what he can do to help me when I'm manic, the doctor told him to "Put on his armor and try not to antagonize me". To disregard the angry things I might say or the un-rational thingsI may do that may rapidly get me to the point of tears or anger. That's when I get to the head biting point. Oh, yeah... and don't tell me I'm manic if I haven't recognized and declared it. Just quietly put on your armor and let me figure it out myself. I always do, but it may take a lot of drama to reach that point. This doesn't happen much anymore because the medication combination is working well. For now. Now I just get a little cranky and cant sleep.

The truth of it is, a casual acquaintance would never know I have a Mental Health issue. The world generally does not think of depression by itself as a Mental Health issue, they are just depressed. But... add mania to that label and suddenly you have someone that, in the opinion of society, could snap at any moment and do great harm to someone or a group of someones. The chance that there is not at least one person in your circle of people that is bipolar is zero. There are a lot of us, but a good portion feel like him does and keep it to themselves.

I'm not crazy. I have a brain that functions differently that yours. My brain works at warp speed, all the time, and sometimes it gets ahead of me. When a person has chronic insomnia for three or four weeks, they are bound to get cranky. So I let my friends and family know. That way when I ask them if I am acting a little manic, they know what to look for, what I am talking about and know they can give an honest answer.


I'm Bipolar. I have a Mental Health issue. I take head meds. It doesn't make me crazy.


Do you know someone who is bipolar?

"L"ollygag, "L"anguish, "L"azy or What Makes Sitting Around Okay

Lollygaging, Languishing or Lazy. All three have been used to describe me at one point or another in my life. Usually by my mother. I am still apparently guilty of these. Mostly because I'm not terribly concerned with keeping my house spotless. It is clean enough, no science projects in either the sink or fridge. Dishes are done a few times a day, though him does a good percent of them. He can't stand dishes in the sink or the dish drain. I told him if they bother him, do them. He does. Him is obsessive about doing laundry, he will run a load for a pair of pants, two shirts and a few pairs of sock. I do my own laundry because he likes to wash towels with anything and he shrinks my clothes. Sometimes they shrink themselves hanging in the closet. I can't blame him for that. I should mop the floors more often because the dog brings in stuff... specifically mud, wood and rocks. He brings in rocks. In his coat, in his paws, in his mouth. That's awesome, I tell ya. The bed is made every day, with travel blankets up over the top third of the bed so dog doesn't get his feet or his butt on my pillows. *shudder* Vacuuming is the bane of my existence. I do it, but not as often as I should. And we've already established that I don't dust, except in my office. I can't abide dust in here.

There's lazy and there's lazy... There's not doing anything, ever... and doing chores when they require your attention. Then there is compulsive cleaning. I would like a compulsively clean house, but not enough to actually make it that way. I have other things to do. I like to sit, watch TV now and then, while I'm knitting/crocheting/tatting/stitching/or reading. So I'm not totally lollygagging, I'm actually doing something while I am languishing in the chair in my office.

There is some compulsive behavior in not being able to just sit and watch TV without something in my hand. But that's the way I am, I always have been. My mom sure didn't see it that way. She just labeled me lazy because I didn't like doing the dishes, or vacuuming. It took me a while to realize I wasn't lazy, I am just more creative than my mother thought I should be. She thought my dad was lazy too but that was before she learned how to lollygag herself which turned into her very definition of lazy. This did not happen until she was much older than I am now. I will give her that.

I am not bothered by friends who think I don't keep a clean enough house. Not that any of them would dare to tell me such a thing. It is clean. It is clean enough. They are the compulsive ones, I am the creative one... I would rather be lollygagging with a project in my hand that on my knees scrubbing the kitchen floor every other day.


Are you a lollygager, languisher or proudly lazy?

Knitting or Why I Make Hats

I knit. I love to knit. I, apparently, have a problem with counting because if it is an intermediate pattern, I usually have to make it 2-4 times because of all the pulling back. This undoing of knitting is known as tinKing, Knitting backwards or frogging, ripit ripit. I make socks. I have made them enough that I don't have to think much about it. And I make hats. With patterns and without patterns. Specifically I make baby hats.

These hats come in all sizes, from full term to very premature. The size of a full term baby hat to hats the size of lemons. When my granddaughter was born in Michigan, she was given a homemade hat right after delivery. After they took her for a little bath and first shampoo, they put the most adorable homemade hat on her. It makes it seem less institutional.


I have made over 200 baby hats in the last 10 years. It doesn't take very long to make the hats for the little preemies. The charity I make them for is Care Wear, and for my church, as well. Primarily for Care Wear. They accept blankets, hats, toys and burial clothing. There is a a great deal of satisfaction in doing something for someone else. And something you will likely not be recognized for, certainly not by the recipient. I knit, I knit for charity. It makes me feel better to do something for someone else.

I am not tooting my own horn, I am shamelessly asking you to help with this any way you are able. They need all sizes of items. The hospitals cannot purchase hats small enough to fit the preemies. A handmade hat and blanket may be the only thing the babies worn before they passed. The blanket or hat may be the only thing the parents have that the baby wore or used. You cannot purchase preemie clothing, and the babies usually can only have a diaper on, giving the nurses access to them. Care Wear accepts items that have been sewn, knit, or crocheted. You can find Care Wear at http://www.carewear.org/index.php?page=home There is a link on that page that has patterns as well as the items they would like to have at http://www.carewear.org/content/assets/2012_CareWear_Pattern_and_Information_Book.pdf They are there for you to use. They are of course free.

I knit. I love to knit. I knit hats.I love to knit for someone that really needs something I have the ability to create.
Please help if you are able.


Have you ever been the recipient of anonymous charity?

"J"unk or Why I Collect Patterns and The Supplies To Make Them

Junk. My definition? That which is just taking up space in the closet that you have too much o. "One man's junk is another man's treasure." Its's true you know. There is always someone willing to take some of what has been deemed junk by someone. Just look at the number of garage sales that take place.

I collect patterns and the supplies to make them.

I have cross stitch and embroidery junk.I have yards of cross stitch fabric, boxes of thread, kits to make and so many patterns it borders on the obscene. I have a smal box of cross stitch kits. The odd thing is I can't really see to do cross stitch on 28 count linen anymore. I have every color of floss they made when I purchased it all. But I won't let go of any of it. I have some of the embroidery projects my mother was working on a few years before she passed that I will never finish or use because I don't care for that kind of embroidery, but that is a different thing all together.

I have knitting junk. I collect knitting patterns. A lot of patterns. I have good yarn for a certain patterns, I have cheap old Red Heart for making toys for humanitarian projects. It wears better. I have a huge bag of Red Heart. I've been caught up in knitting blankets, hats, socks and sweaters for my granddaughter the last three and a half years, while trying to finish a pair of socks for myself. I still collect patterns that have nothing to do with what I am knitting. I inherited my MIL's knitting supplies when she passed. Someone gave me some more needles, a large bundle of knitting needles that was in a box aquired at a garage sale. With circular, double point and straights, wood, metal and plastic, I have somewhere around 150 sets of needles. That borders on OCD. Crocheting is much the same. I have crocheted a lot in my life, afghans, doilies, altar cloths and toys. I have a couple of WIP (works in progress) that I pick up every now and then...when I'm not knitting. I have an afghan that is mostly finished that I really need to get back to. I have a couple of drawers of cotton thread, and only three full sets of crochet hooks, Granted some of the thread has been been given to me when someone else decided it was junk taking up space in their house, but still.

I have spinning junk. I have a spinning wheel. I've had it for a number of years. I bought it primarily because I have always wanted a spinning wheel to sit in my living room, an accent, like an end table. I kept running into people that were spinners. They were willing to teach me, so I thought I would give it a try. I do actually spin a few times a week and I am planning on using what I spin to knit something. I don't know what yet, it remains to be seen what they yarn turns out to be. I have a few bags of roving to spin into yarn. It is a project I will actually work on as it doesn't require me to see tiny detail, and the spinning itself isn't too hard on the hands or feet. But, in anticipation, most of the spinners I know give away a tiny bit of what they spin, and the rest of it is sitting in baskets, drawers, closets or boxes... they just spin, they don't actually do anything with what they spin. That makes me feel better. Another plus to spinning is that it does not require a pattern.

I have quilting junk. I have quilting fabric and quilting kits because someone convinced me I would love it. I guess I forgot I hate to sew. But I keep it because I bought it and you never know when you might need a piece of fabric for something. I also have yards and yards of batting for all the quilts I was going to make. That was foolish. But who knows. Maybe someday I will decide I want to finish the two quilts I have started.

I have tatting junk. I have more tatting patterns than could possible be completed in one lifetime. I have beautiful diamond wood shuttles, metal shuttles, and plastic shuttles. Certainly more than I can tat with at one time and thread in a rainbow of colors to go with all those patterns I want to make. Someone gave me most of the thread. And I do teach tatting on occasion, so having extra shuttles for them to learn with is a good idea, right?

I have random junk. I have plastic canvas supplies. I have mini frames, small frames and 8x10 frames, I have oil painting supplies. I gave up oil painting because you can hide only so many canvases under and behind the sofa. I have loads of ceramic supplies. There's a kiln in the garage that hasn't been fired in well over 15 years. There aren't any ceramic supplie stores in Western Montana I am aware of. I have every color of pen that Sharpie makes, watercolor paint, oil sticks and chalk for drawing. I have a mat cutter, enough brushes to start a store and various papers needed to go with all those art supplies.

Him asked me once if he could have one of my thousand craft bags. A slight exaggeration to be sure, but the point was well taken. However, in defense, I usually use every bag I have at least once a year for something. So there's that. Most of those bags were free from somewhere, but not all.

Him collects fly fishing junk. A lot of it. Rods, reels, flys, hooks, vices to tie flys, material to tie flys, vests to carry all the fishing junk, waders to fish in, more rods and reels and more rods and reels. And some that is mine, but a very small portion. My collection cost far less that his, to be sure.

I finally came to the conclusion that I am a collector, specifically of patterns. Some women collect tea cups, some collect thimbles. I've been collecting patterns for 34 years, so it is a substantial collection. I won't beat myself up or feel guilty for not actually getting them finished. I am a collector. A collector of junk, some would say. I have far more patterns than the material to make them. Wth the advent of the Internet, it became possible to collect all the patterns to make more junk I could imagine. And most are free patterns! I like to look at patterns, the pictures, the yarn, the art, the beauty of the work created by someone's hands. I don't read magazines, drooling over handbags, dresses, recipes, dining room sets or beautiful rooms. I look at patterns. Then I download them to my hard drive collecting them like a squirrel hoarding nuts as he prepares for winter.

I will spend days looking at little girl sweater patterns. I download them all, knowing full well I will never make most of them. Yet... when I start another knitting project, I need a different pattern, because the ones I have are not exactly what I want. The last four knitting projects I had? I didnt have the right size needle and had to go buy them. How can that be, with all the needles I have stashed around here. Every time I started a cross stitch or embroidery project, I needed to go buy a couple of colors I didn't have. I ask you, how can that be? Because you can never have too much craft junk.


What "junk" do you have that you collect and treasure?

"I"ndonesia or What I Learned Living In A Third World Country

In 1996, Him had the opportunity to go to Indonesia for two years with his job. It turned out too be three, and I was of course invited to go with him. Every year we got a one month home leave designed to get us back to the States and get medical issues dealt with, get medications reordered for the year, visit family and eat at Taco Bell.

The first home leave we were offered was only 8 or 9 months after arriving, due to the staggering of employees being gone for a year. It was decided since we had just left home and were pretty good on all the reasons to go home, we would go to Australia, more specifically, Tasmania, on the company dime. We were hoping for some Western Food. That was not to be... other than the regular fast food restaurants we already had access to in Indonesia and The Hard Rock Cafe, which seemed to be everywhere in Asia, the food was as foreign as where we had come from. As a matter of fact, we had trouble even finding restaurants to eat at. They were all 'take away'. We were about three weeks into the trip when we realized all the places to eat were in Pubs. Oh well. Now we know.

What I learned about Indonesians is they were a happy people. They were happy with what they had. Not to say they didn't hope for or want better, but they were willing to wait. Most of them. I learned that they were not a violent people, but if, as an expat or someone with a big house, if you didn't have someone at your house all the time, someone would rob you. I learned that they were happy if they had a piece of chicken to go with their rice and weeds a time or two a week. I learned they love American food and are perfectly happy with left overs. They are happy to have a job. Everyone has a job, even if it is telling you where to park on the street. They will stand in line to get a job at one of those "horrible American sweat shops" like Nike. They work 12 hours a day 6-7 days a week anywhere they work, they make more money with benefits there. I learned they are eager to help and have you be their "friend". They don't care if they know you, they will ask to have a photo with you. They will put it on their wall and tell everyone you are their American friend. It gives them status. They are industrious when they need to be but can sleep any time they get the chance. It was inexpensive to live there and I could get an hour of Shiatsu massage for $.25. I got a lot of massages over there. I learned they believe in magic. No, really, they do.

I learned that when him and I did not have the trappings of the frantic life we live over here, we spent much more time together. We were all we had over there. He had his employees, I had the servants, but for the most part any time spent away from work was spent together. We occasionally spent time with other expats, but that was only a time or two a month. I learned that the closer you get to the equator, the more creatures there are that will try to kill you. I learned that Christmas spent in a primarily Muslim country, is better. Again, no trappings of the holiday, no tree, no decorations, nothing to buy for each other because we were too "big" for any clothing and there just was nothing else and unless you were in a Chinese owned establishment, no music. We appreciated the meaning of Christmas much more. I learned to eat ugly food. I wouldn't eat ugly food before I was there but I had to eat it or not eat when we went out for dinner and particularly with Indonesians. I forgot how to drive. I had a driver for three years, and him drove when we went home because we were in a rental car. I learned what a country wide evacuation of expats due to civil unrest is frightening, but manageable. I learned that there are still pioneers in the church. Our Branch only had one person in it that was a second generation member. They thought because we were from America, we all the answers to all questions that might come up. I learned that hearing the Christmas story being read from the book of Luke at the same time as the call to prayer was being made is one of the most beautiful things I have ever heard. I learned that I loved the Indonesian people and that I would worry, wonder and miss them when I left that place. I loved the jungles, the monkeys, Bali, Planet Hollywood's caesar salad, going to Singapore and finding out they had a Taco Bell there. I learned him and I can share an office if it is big enough.

I especially loved that the pace was slower. That the huge markets of fabric or an entire street with men at treadle sewing machines sewing jeans was a cool place to shop. Indonesian art, especially the Batik, is beautiful. The people are beautiful. They are happy. We were happy there, until the civil unrest began to be a problem again, and we came home again, for good this time. Then it was back to normal. Too busy, too involved too much stuff to take care of, no maid, no gardner, no guard.

There are so many things I learned living in a third world country, with third world people who had third world problems. Like working and earning just enough to buy rice that day. And maybe a weed to put in it. We as Americans are generally spoiled. We don't appreciate how lucky we are to live in this country. We don't realize how much we really have as we covet and stive to get more. How civil disobedience is not a part of our daily lives. Him and I don't spend as much time together. He has his computer and stuff downstairs in his cave, I am in a bedroom converted to be my office. I learned that being an American is so much easier than being an Indonesian.

I miss the togetherness that isn't possible here because we are too busy being Americans. I miss the temperate weather. But mostly. I miss the people. Those happy people who are satisfied with who and what they are.



Is there something that you learned that makes you appreciate who and where you are?

"H"ome or Why I'm A Hermit

Home. The very word conjures up emotions and memories.

For me, where ever I am sleeping is home when I am referring to where I need to go back to. Or, specifically where him is at, is home. A hotel, our house, or tent, a room on a cruise ship, all home. It's a little more than where the heart is, though my husband does hold my heart. Going to my first home, which is where my dad lives, carries a lot of memories of my mom. It is comfortable to be back there. Leaving is always difficult. it is a different brand of home for my heart.

I prefer to be home. No matter where specifically I am calling home that day. If we are camping, I would rather stay in camp and listen to a book while I am knitting. If we are traveling, I prefer to stay in the hotel rather than go out sight seeing. Cruising is awesome because I am not required to do anything more than eat and go sit in one of the salons with him. If I am here, in my home, I would always rather stay home than go anywhere. Unless we are going on a trip. It could be that riding in the car is uncomfortable causing pain in my body. It could be that I don't like to do much outside my home. It could be that I'm lazy and it takes work to get ready to get out of the house, specifically requiring me to get out of my comfy clothes and actually get dressed. It really doesn't matter why, I am comfortable being in my home, being a hermit. A serious hermit, keeping the blinds down in my office (mostly because I can't see my iPad), in the living room because nobody can see the TV if they are opened and because it helps the house stay warmer or cooler.

I like to be in, away from the heat/cold. I always have some knitting/crocheting/tatting/stitching/spinnin project I am working on and would rather be here doing it. I leave my house every Sunday for Church meetings. I like leaving for there and it is only a two minute drive. I usually go to town with him every three weeks or so to go to a movie and lunch/dinner. Once a month I try to get to a spin in with a friend trying to improve my spinning skills. I've only managed to get there once in the last 7 months. And once a month to a fiber guild meeting here in my town. I've made it to that twice in 9 months. Something else always manages to come up, I am sick, Dimples is up, meeting I have to go to, someone else visiting here. Lots of people want to come stay here because we are just a couple of minute walk from the Blackfoot River. You know, the one in the movie A River Runs Through it. Visitors kind of get in the way of my hermithood.

Him is the opposite. Him can't abide staying home. I actually cannot tell you the last time he stayed home the whole day unless he is very sick. If him does not have something planned, which is mostly fishing in the summer, he has meetings for the two boards he is on here in our little town, teaching fishing/fly tying/water saftey classes at the elementary school, teaching fly tying classes to community members, helping someone understand what they should do to survive a certain type of cancer they have that he had, going to one town or another 70 miles away and in the summer he is a fishing guide. And if nothing else is on him's calendar, he will at the very least go into our little town to get the mail. Did I mention he is retired? Him is busy with something every single day. It makes me a little dizzy.

My husband and my stuff define where I am most comfortable, sometimes one, sometimes the other, sometimes sometimes both. And, where I will be sleeping that night. I am comfortable my home. It is where all my stuff is. Which is another definition of what home is, to me. I like it here. My husband and I have many memories of home. My child and my grandchild, most of our memories were made in our home. This is where we make our most important memories.


What makes it home for you?

"G"ratitude or Why I Give Thanks

I am grateful for so much in my life. There are too many things to be grateful for that I couldn't enumerate them all. And I wouldn't bore you with all the mundane things I am grateful of.

However, I do not show or verbalize my gratitude enough. It doesn't mean I didn't appreciate something I have received or some act of kindness. I am much more likely to say or show thanks to people that live outside of my home. That's a shame. And...I do not thank my Heavenly Father enough or all He has blessed me with.

On Facebook, for the entire month of November I accept the challenge to find something different every day of the month I am grateful for and post that gratitude. We all spend some time recognizing our blessings in our lives during the Thanksgiving season. After all, it is the holiday was created specifically to show thanks to our fore fathers and what they did or us as well as recognize our own blessings and then give thanks for them.

Easter season is the same for me. To bring to mind all I have been blessed with. And to know where those blessing have come from.

I also know that showing gratitude, verbally or by my own act of kindness will bring more blessings. Everyone likes to be thanked or know what they do is appreciated.

I am striving to show more gratitude to those I love most. I have so much to be grateful for. I only need to look around myself every single day to see them. And then to say thank you when someone else blesses my life in any way.

What are you grateful for?

"F"orgetful Me or Excuses For Why I Didn't Make A Post Yesterday

Forgive my excuses... There are a number of them, actually.

1. I forgot.
2. I'm sort of lazy.
3. I had switched the notifications on my iPad to mute and forgot to turn them back on.
4. I'm incredibly forgetful. I believe I have a Teflon coated, Swiss cheese brain that lets everything fall out, no matter how I try to keep a grip on it. I cannot remember a thing if I don't have an alarm go off. Nothing. Ever.
5. However, most importantly, as a member of The Church of Latter Day Saints, this is a special weekend. We have two days of meetings where we are taught at the feet of our leaders. My mind was filled with Spiritual things yesterday, not things of the Internet. This happens twice a year. The first weekend in April and again in October. I look forward to it. To be taught. To be uplifted and inspired to be a better person.

I hope to get the post that is supposed to be made today done today, but it is another day of teaching and inspiration.

What inspires you?

"E"lectricity or Why I Can't Go Off the Grid

Electricity is such a blessing and a bane in our lives. It gives us light, let's us wash our clothes in a washing machine in the house rather than down in the river. It, though not here where wood stoves rule, lets us have heat, or depending on where you live, air conditioning, both keeping us climate controlled and comfortable. We have a more reliable device to cook on than the wood stove. We can have our cell phones, iPads, television and computers too. It lets us keep our food safer and longer. We can run our lawn mowers, trimmers, drills, saws, recharge our batteries, and even run our cars. It makes our pump work, giving me water, giving me the ability to flush a toilet. It's easy to take it for granted when it just works. But let it go out and the average person gets a little panicky.

Electricity is a bane as well. That old double edged sword. Because we have light 24 hours a day, we are no longer governed by our natural circadian rhythms. We stay up too late and get up too early because of the hectic pace of life. We have to ability to "go" anywhere at night because we need to be doing something that doesn't involve staying home... that's boring and does not entertain us enough. Stores are open, the movies are playing, there are concerts, clubs, bowling, and of course, restaurants to eat in so you don't have to cook. There is so much to do after you finish at work, you job being entirely dependent on electricity, that we don't get together as families to eat before the sun goes down...

I have often considered going off the grid. Him and I have talked about it at length, what it would entail and if I could really do it. Going off the grid isn't an unusual thing here in Western Montana, it's not terribly common, but there are enough people living that way that there are stores dedicated to living off the grid. There are entire towns in Montana that are off the grid. If you don't know what off the grid means, it is to be somewhere that has no civilized services. Electricity, phones, wells, important things like that. Just about every appliance you can think of can be converted to run on propane. Refrigerator, stove, lights. But, propane can't, make electricity (except with a propane generator which is only 10% efficient). We could buy a wind generator and a few hundred batteries to store it, for a gabillion dollars and generate your own electricity. We could have high end solar panels to heat your water, and possibly your house. We would have to buy cisterns and either take them somewhere to fill them, have someone come fill it, or catch rain water. Where I live, you would need to have a number of cisterns and catch as much rain as we can during the one maybe two months that we have any substantial rain. We could get a bike, rig it up the right way, and ride it when we need electricity, or again, store what we make in batteries, which won't be all that much. This would never work for me, I can't ride a bike to the corner and back, so him would have to do all the electricity generation. We would have to have a composting toilet. All our grey water would be drained out into the garden. The work of providing sustenance for ourselves would be hard work. Taking care of our meat on the hoof, growing a garden, hunting every year for what meat you don't raise ourselves.

In the days before electricity everything that was done was done with purpose. Either feeding yourself, preparing for winter, maintaining your shelter or using what extra you had to barter for what you didn't. You would spend the time growing food, making food for the table, canning food to put in the pantry or food cellar for winter, growing livestock, getting wood gathered, split and stacked so you could stay warm all winter. It's a lot of work, hard work. Which is why people who lived or now live this way are ready for bed when it got dark. Off the grid means spending a little time together reading, knitting, mending, preparing for the next day, talking about the day to the light of lanterns before it is time to go to bed. Lather, Rinse, Repeat. Every day, the same.

I would like to go off the grid. I don't like neighbors. No matter how neighborly or how unfriendly. I don't like neighbors close enough to see their house. I don't like hearing their alarm go off at 6:00 AM all year long when my windows are open. I don't like hearing their dogs bark. I don't like my dog barking and bothering them. I am annoyed that their yard looks like an auto salvage yard. And I loath hearing the highway noise. But the single most important reason I couldn't go off the grid now? I couldn't charge my iPad or use my computer. I am chained to these two devices. And I don't know what would happen to Dimples if she didn't have the iPod to play with, it's possible the earth would crash into the sun. All my books are on the iPad. I get all my information off the internet. They have solar chargers for phones, iPads and iPods now. Lay the solar pad in the sun, put an adapter on your electronic, lay it on the charger pad. That's brilliant. But you wouldn't be able to use a computer, even if you could generate enough electricity to power it, because you would have no phone or cable to provide internet access. It would be a huge paper weight.

You may ask why? Why would anyone want to give up the conveniences of modern living? My reasons, besides the ones already stated, which I realize are all negative, families worked together. They depended on every single body in the family to work for their survival. There is less "stuff" to be attached to. I could go back to paper books. I would lose my games... but I wouldn't have time for them anyway. Maybe Dimples would start playing with non-electronic toys, start reading paper books as well. It's possible without TV and computer, there would be more time actually spent in the same room with people you love. I think about how excited the world was when electricity began to roll out across the world, knowing it would make their lives so much better, so much easier! Little did they know that the magnificent inventions that followed the advent of electricity would change the very fabric of humanity.

So, sometimes I fantasize about going off the grid. Being different than we are now. That very romantic notion suits my hermit personality well. The harsh realities of being off the grid does notsuit my iPad toting, internet surfing, hot bath taking, lazy self. At.All. So... I will continue to to occasionally dream and talk about running away to the mountains somewhere to live off the grid. Then come back to reality and go take a hot bath in my warm bathroom while I'm running a load of laundry and have the crock pot simmering the meat I took out of the freezer knowing this is an easier life and appreciating it greatly. Maybe it would be easier to buy a house that has a few acres and no neighbors.



Are you a social butterfly or would you like to be an off the grider?

"D"ecorating or Why I don't bother

Decorating. The very word brings a level of angst to my soul you cannot even imagine. Whether it is in the HGTV sense of the word, or the changing of decorations inside the home for every season or holiday including Groundhog Day.

I have friends and acquaintances who have lovely homes. They are beautiful. They Decorate. Their sofa matches their carpet and drapes. Their dishes match their sofa. The art on their walls is tasteful and matches the dishes. Their wall of family photos is arranged in chronological order by child. Their children are always neat and tidy and match the wall of fame. The bathroom looks as if it is never used. The bedrooms are all color coordinated in each individual room. Their plants are thriving and blooming inside and their garden is a thing to behold. The lawn is well manicured, green until it snows and they never have to say, "Stay off the grass in the back, the dog poop needs to be picked up."

I on the other hand, shudder at decorating. My eyes glaze over and I can't remember what colors go with what.

Where we live, nobody waters their lawn, if they can be called that. They say grass is supposed to be brown in August in Montana. When we first moved here, him was sort of taking care of it until one of the neighbors asked him if he would stop watering because it was making their yard look worse than it really was. When someone asked him if he was going to plant a garden that year, him replied, "No. I don't even like growing grass." So following the request not to water the lawn means not only is our back yard primarily a repository for dog poop, him only has to mow about 4 times in the summer, so him is good with the no watering idea.

I have some coordinated Corell dishes. 4 of them, with two sizes of bowls to match. I used to have some Pfaltzgraff dishes, but they live in a box now because they were not only heavy, they weren't really microwave safe being heavy stoneware and all. I also have some beautiful dishes I got in Asia. Two sets of them. They don't match each other. They live in the china hutch to be used rarely because him doesn't want one to get broken since there is no way we can replace it. This is one danger of decorating. The fear of breaking something.

I have a living room set that matches. It is something we picked up in Indonesia when we lived there. It is beautiful. Carved wood all over each piece. It has black fabric that is similar in pile to velvet. Metallic red, orange, green, blue, and gold threads are shot through creating a subtle floral pattern. I loved this furniture when I lived in Indonesia. But it is formal living room furniture, it isn't suitable for sitting on for very long. You have to be 4' tall for it to be comfortable because it is a narrow seat. Indonesians are generally pretty small as a people, so it is perfect for them. You can't sleep on it, nor hook your feet over the back when you are reading because of all that carved wood. And there is no matching that unless you have black or white curtains. That furniture finally lives in him's cave in the basement. One of the chairs to this coordinated set lives in the un-formal living room. Dimples calls it her "Castle Chair" at three and a half, it fits her perfectly.

My bedroom has a comforter on the bed that has a seam coming apart in one corner after I got so bold as to wash it. I will get around to stitching it closed one day. Every morning when we get out of bed I take two red train blankets and cover the top third of the bed, making sure the pillows are covered. The bottom two thirds is covered by a blue and grey afghan. None of which match the red, green and brown plaid comforter. It does however keep the 70# standard poodle's dirty feet and butt off my pillows or out of my bed completely when he decides to dig his nest to sleep in. So it doesn't match anything but I don't have to be squiged every time I get into my bed.

Dimples has a bed in my craft room, half of my craft room now lives in my office and office closet. The closet and office are organized, but the closet doesn't have visible floor space any more. The up side to this, it is I no longer have to go into the craft room to get anything. Since most of what I used all the time is right beside my chair. Silver lining and all that.

Christmas puts me into a mild coma. Him brings in the Christmas decorations then goes out to the front porch to hang a few strings of lights on top of each other. I get to put up the tree, hang the decorations and slap a few things around on flat surfaces. Then I am free to start dreading taking it all down and putting it away. I have seriously considered glueing all the ornaments to their respective ornament hangers then glueing all the ornament hangers to the tree. That way all I have to do it unfold the branches and viola! The tree is done. I could leave my snowmen and Santas out all year because I do love them. The best Christmases for me was when we lived in Indonesia, a Muslim country and couldn't get decorations. I have a friend who leaves her large Christmas tree up all year. She hangs different ornaments on it depending on the holiday or season. It looks lovely, but I cannot imagine changing pictures and sit around things that need to be dusted with every holiday or change of season.

Our pictures are up willy nilly. I like where they are. One of my favorite batik prints is half covered by the new TV. I will take it down as soon as I can figure out where I can put it. I have Batik, an appliqué quilt of a fish on another wall. There is a picture of my Savior, a cross stitch angel, batik masks and an oil painting we bought from a man painting and selling them in a campground. All in the same room. I know it sounds hideous, but for me it works.

I like to call my decorating style, "Early Attic, or Early Basement." Him and I have been married for 32 years, and I still have pieces my mom and dad gave me when I was a single mom 35 years ago and had nothing. My house is clean, except for the mud, dirt and rocks dog brings in nearly every day... sometimes I close my eyes when I go into the kitchen so I don't see it, so it may sit there for a day or so. Nobody else in this house seems to see it either, so I'm good. We have lived with dirt roads nearly all our married life. My rule for dust is, "If you write in it or run your fingers through it, you dust it." If everything has the same layer of dust on it, it isn't that noticeable. I dust when we are having company. When shopping for new carpet I have two criteria. It needs to be the color of the dirt in my yard or the color of my dog if it sheds. This isn't a problem with dog, he doesn't shed. That leaves the color of dirt. I lucked out when we bought this house, it matches the dirt perfectly when dog brings it in with him.

I would live to have a HGTV home. I would. But I don't want that as much as I don't want to dust all those accessories. Miss Manners said, "Every home needs to have some child's atrocities in it somewhere. If you don't have a child of your own, get some of those atrocities from a friend's child." I have Dimples 'art' hanging all over my fridge. I have things my daughter made in school 25 years ago. I have beautiful dragons mixed in with a 100 day clock and stone eggs. I'm sure I will be one of those old ladies that have shelves packed up with stuff looking like a shelf in a second hand shop. But I love every piece. This is the kind of home I have. Not design by design, but design by accident. If I love something, I get it and then try to find a place to put it, whether it matches anything or not. My home reflects the things I love. The trips we have taken. The memories we have made.

My home is clean, but not spotless. I don't come unglued if mud gets brought in or you don't take off your shoes. It is comfortable. It is safe. I hope every one that comes into my home feels comfortable and safe. I want people to know they can put their feet on the sofa. I admire those that have the completely spotless, coordinated, beautiful homes. I sometimes get a little envious. But I love my home, those who live in it, and those is visit it.


Are you a design by design or a design by accident kind of person.

"C"ourtesy

Courtesy... something that seems mostly lost in our society. People step in front of you to get through the door first, cut in front of you on the road, steal the parking place you were waiting for. Some don't speak to people they don't know and are not ashamed when they treat someone badly. It's a if they are the only person in the world that matters and should have their way in all things and places. I'm talking in generalities, of course. Which I probably shouldn't do.

I don't know why it is so hard for some people to hold a door open or help some elderly woman into the store, or carry his bags out of the store. Why can't we be more willing to speak to an elderly person that may be living alone and would like just a little kindness and conversation in the check out line and on the way to their car?

It takes but a moment to be kind to someone. To let them know that you actually see them. Acknowledge them. Comment on the great shoes, or shirt, or hair...even if that hair is green. That is pretty awesome that someone can express themselves that way. It doesn't mean they are a freaky serial killer.

In the children's organization at my church, we have a penny jar. The kids are supposed to do something kind and unexpected for someone during the week. The following Sunday they have to opportunity to share what they did, and put a penny in the jar for each act of kindness. They love it. They try to find things to do for someone else. All the pennies will be donated to Primary Children's Hospital in Salt Lake City during the pennies by the inch campaign. So not only are they looking for ways to be courteous, they are learning to be courteous, they are learning to be generous, to help others that are in need.

I loath shopping. It does not matter if it is for clothes, shoes or groceries. I.Do.Not.Like.It. It could have something to do with the fact that I would rather not leave my house, but thats another post entirely. I have found when I have to go shopping and I take the time to do some charitable act, a smile, a short conversation, being kind to the employee and saying their name, acknowledging they are a person, makes the shopping experience so much better. Sometimes people are a little shocked when you smile at them. But they will almost always smile back.

Stepping outside of ourself, reaching out to someone else, helping when help is needed without waiting for an invitation to do so, is an easy way to brighten your day. Courtesy and Charity can go hand in hand. Perhaps you need someone to be courteous to you. Perhaps you are in need of someone to acknowledge that you exist. If we do these things ourselves it will come back to us.

Karma... sometimes it can be a good thing.


Have you been a recipient of courtesy and kindness? Do you go out of your way to be courteous to others that cross your path?

We All Are "B"eautiful

Because I didn't figure out it was this time of the year until today... I will make both my A&B post in the same day. This is no small accomplishment, since I haven't written in a year.

We are all beautiful. No matter if you're young or old, thin or not so thin, tall or short, black, white, brown, red or green. No matter if you have straight hair, or curly hair or no hair at all, pink hair, blue hair, brown hair or blond hair. WE ARE ALL BEAUTIFUL.

When Curly was growing up, she was into the skater grunge look. She always wore big, baggy, black clothes, and had eggplant purple hair. Nothing girly. Ever. She was determined her daughter was not going to be defined by pink frills and would not be all girly with Barbie dolls, Disney Princesses and the like.

Dimples loves Princesses. Loves. Them. Her favorite color is pink then purple. Dresses she gets to chose herself are determined by if they are sparkly and how they look when she twirls in them. A pink, sparkly, twirly dress is the best thing in the world. She would wear dresses every minute of every day, if her mom would let her.

Her Grandpa told her a few months back she was his Princess. Later she said to me that she wasn't really a Princess. I explained that she was a Princess. That we are all Princesses because we are daughters of a Father that loves us and who is the King. Last night he wanted to do a Princess and the Pea experiment. He would put a pea under her bed and if she was a Princess the pea would turn into a ball sometime during the night. If not, it would still be there. Well... you know the outcome of that. She came running into my room, the ball raised high in the air, declaring, "I AM A PRINCESS, NANA, I AM A PRINCESS." We are not turning her into an insufferable, stuck up brat. We are helping her realize her Diving heritage.

Earlier today, she said we weren't Princesses today because we weren't wearing a dress. I pulled up picture of Princess Diana and Princess Kate wearing pants. Then picture of them in gowns with their crowns on their heads. I made it clear that Princesses wear pants. Once a Princess always a Princess, no matter what you are or are not wearing.

I recently read about how we are supposed to, or not supposed to greet and talk to little girls. The gist was when we greet them with, "What a pretty dress that is" or like I have with Dimples, "You look beautiful" that we are somehow teaching them it is all about how they look, making it all about their bodies, thereby creating issues for them in the future. We are supposed to ask them about what they are reading, or something.

A few days later saw video in which some kids decided to have Prom for all the Special Needs kids in the area. They hired cosmetologists to do their hair, boys and girls, this included haircuts for boys and girls and make-up for the girls. They gave them beautiful dresses and tuxes, no matter if they were wheel chair bound, low or high functioning. Companions, not based on gender, were assigned to them, to stay with them the entire evening. They hired limos to transport them all to prom for the dance. There they were greeted by the kids from the high schools, parents were there cheering, clapping and holding signs to greet them. They were behind red ropes and there was a red carpet for them to walk down. There were many press cameras and others taking photos. You could see on their faces and the way they waved at everyone that this would be the night of their lives.

I went back to the original post and reposted the video with the comment: "Sometimes we need to feel and be told, and know we are beautiful." These kids felt beautiful and handsome. They were Beautiful and Handsome At that moment they knew they were beautiful, not different. They had likely not had that chance before. They were important and beautiful enough that people were there to watch them walk into that building and take their pictures.They had likely not had that chance before.

It isn't a necessarily a sexist, insulting thing to have someone think and let you know that you are beautiful. Beautiful inside and out. We need to know we are beautiful. Even if you are the only one that tells yourself you are beautiful, it is true. We are all beautiful. I think that comes from being told in honest and non-vain ways while still little girls. Especially by our parents and grandparents. We are designed that way. Knowing we are a beautiful daughter of a King makes all the difference not only in how you feel but in how you present yourself to the world.


What do you do to feel like a Beautiful Princess?

"A"gency...You CAN Choose

Agency is an interesting thing. The right to choose. Choose what we want, what we want to do, what we don't want to do.

There are times in our lives where the Agency we have is limited in scope. That time of life where our Mom and Dad or your kids seem to control much of what we do. I had been known to tell my daughter that, "Our house isn't a Democracy, it is a theocracy and you don't have to right to make certain choices." Now... I know that isn't really true, well, maybe a little bit. But I am here to tell you that a 6 year old doesn't have the right to chose to fly off the roof and a 16 year old with a newly minted driver's license better not chose to drive 300 miles with her friends to go to the hot springs. Ever. I am much more lenient about agency with my Dimples than I ever was with Curly. I have learned that there is much less that will do permanent damage and what does damage her will generally heal just fine.

However... as someone who has crested and is well on the downside of the hill of life, I have come to realize we always have the ability to choose. Even as a little child we chose. We cannot always protect our children from bad choices any more than we can always protect ourselves from making them, though we can make their environment safer. Say, remove the ladder from the side of the house. No matter how many times I tell Dimples to stop moving around the dining room table hopping or rolling from one chair to another, she is going to keep doing it. Unless I tie her to the chair. She manages to fall off a chair every couple of weeks. Eventually she will figure out on her own it isn't a good idea.

What we can help them learn is the law of Consequences. Dimples is learning about the law of gravity every time she falls off of that blasted chair, it is a consequence to dancing around the table from chair to chair. Curly learned if she went somewhere she wasn't supposed to go (and I always found out...) the consequence was the loss of said driver's license for a while. Consequence will always follow action or inaction.

I have learned after much living and repenting, that there are always consequences. Good or bad, every time we exercise our right to choose, there is a resulting effect. For ourselves or for someone else. For our community, for our country. We may see it, we may not. It may be immediate, it may show up much later. Everything we do effects something or someone somewhere.

We received our Agency from a Father that loves us so much he will let us make the decision and fall off chairs. Now, maybe a split head requiring a trip to the emergency room to get stitches seems somehow different than making the decision to not follow the advice of a Prophet, but the scars left from some decisions could require painful repentance and sometimes carry a lifetime of regret. The repentance process our Father gave us is like us hugging the crying child who fell off the chair after you told them a hundred times they were going to hurt themselves. We have been told what to do and not do. Multiple times, by multiple people from multiple sources. Stop doing "whatever". You are going to hurt yourself. As well as the admonition to do 'this or that" and you will be able to make the good choice. But the Agency is ours. We can always choose. It is our God given right to learn the easy way or the hard way to be better and be more than we think we can be.

Sometimes you have to fall off a chair a few dozen times to understand the law of gravity completely, hopefully you don't need to go to the hospital because of it.


How do you help the young people in your life understand the gift of Agency?