Five-OH MY GOODNESS!

Gentle Reader,
Hello! How have you been? Just the usual around here...

I got old. 

Well, older.

This was a very thoughtful gift from my husband....

and all of you who contributed to make an old

woman cry at each turn of the page.

Truly, your kind thoughts touched my heart and made me laugh and cry and remember

so many good things about all of the people and places that have been a part of 

these past joyous 50 years of mortal existence.

It makes me truly happy that these associations can be eternal.

And a word to the wise: if the 90's craze of Glamour Shots makes a comeback...

Just say no.

This picture will haunt me unto the end of my days. 

But my sweet husband loves it, so there you have it.

State of the Union

Somehow the 28th Wedding Anniversary came and went without any official acknowledgement here in blogland. For past anniversaries I have sung his praises, and given you the secret to our success. So this year, I will tell you a story.

Our daughter, Siara once described us rather aptly with this: "Dad's all Rock n Roll (as she demonstrated with some wild air guitar) and Mom is "La la la la la (done with some lovely air violin). What can I say? I had a thing for bad-boy RM  accounting majors who drive beat-up Plymouth Volari station wagons. So, with two very different people in a marriage, you can imagine that there has been some need for adjustment and compromise over the years. To put it mildly.

There came a time amidst the craziness of raising our big family, that I realized I had become a little negative in my attitude toward my Prince Charming. I  found an outlet for my frustration in my journal. Journal writing pretty much saved me big bucks in therapy over the years. But, I began to realize that I usually took the time to whine and complain in my journal when things didn't go my way but I didn't always take the time to pour out my feelings when I was happy with my hubby. So I decided to remedy that. I set a goal to write two good things about my guy each time I wrote in my journal. And I did. I faithfully recorded the little endearing things he said or did. I wrote about his amazing feats of strength when he worked around the house. I waxed lyrical about his willingness to bathe the children and put them to bed that one time. I recorded my admiration for his hard work in providing for us. His careful planning. His untiring service in his church callings.  It really did wonders for my attitude as I took a moment at the end of each day to dwell on the positive. The exercise served its purpose and eventually tapered off and I forgot about it.

Until...Andy was going to give a talk in church and he asked me about a specific incident involving one of the kids. I pulled out my journal to give him the details and I noticed those little addendums to my journal entries back then. I thought he might enjoy hearing them so I told him what I had done and started reading them to him. It was quite heart-warming up until I came upon this one:

                                 "He's asleep right now"
                                 "He bathes regularly"

I guess that wasn't a good day. Luckily he laughed heartily and told the story in his talk the next day.

And thus we see, Gentle Reader, that true love is a work in progress. I'm just glad I have a whole eternity to figure it out--and 28 years is a good start.

Leaving is the Hardest Part

We had big plans for yesterday to celebrate Sam's Birthday. We were going to use our season passes and go to Knott's Berry Farm.  Our passes include a water park and after a few days of 80 degree weather, the tide turned to going to Splash City instead. So we wanted to check their website for hours etc. Last night when we tried, it wasn't working. So I checked again this morning and saw that Splash City doesn't open until May. So we were back to the Farm. Then Sam wasn't feeling well when he woke up. Everyone tried to cajole him into a trip to Knott's Berry but he just wasn't feeling it. So, I thought that was that. But soon, I got the news that they were all fired up to go to the beach instead. Sam was feeling better and all gung-ho to go.
They managed to load the boards and beach chairs and kites into the car and change into swimsuits in 15 minutes--a new record. So we were off. Or so we thought. Suddenly Seth realized he didn'thave his phone. I won't bore you with the details but after a good 20 minute search inside the house, the garage and the car, we heard it buzzing in the glove box (jockey box if you are from Idaho or Utah) of the car. So, then, we were off. This time we made it all the way to the Subway in town all ready to pick up our picnic lunch. Then I realized I hadn't thrown my backpack --with my wallet--into the car. Being the upstanding citizen that I am, I decided to go back and fetch my backpack so I wouldn't be driving without a license. And so we could buy some lunch. So that whole double trip ate up another 45 minutes.

Back to Subway. Well, almost. Along the way we came to a beater pick-up truck with a beat-up trailer hitched to it in the middle of the turn lane we needed. A local character was standing beside the truck with a gas can which he proceeded to empty into the truck. As he puffed away on a cigarette clenched in his mouth. We've all seen the signs at the gas station, right? The ones that say

DON'T SMOKE WHILE PUMPING GAS!!!

OR YOU WILL BLOW UP THE PLACE!!!
GASOLINE AND ITS FUMES: HIGHLY FLAMMABLE!!!

DON'T SMOKE!!!

We eased around him and continued on our way without any explosions and made it back to Subway. For some reason our order caused the cashier a great deal of distress. Wrong sandwiches were rung up, wrong sandwiches were put in our bag, cups were withheld, too many cups were given, chips were counted, then re-counted. I handed her exact cash in the exact amount and she looked quite relieved--we both knew it wasn't going to be pretty if she had to deal with a credit card. We finally got out with our sandwiches and headed for the our favorite beach.

At last.

Unloading the Beach Gear

Building a dike--Why? Because they are boys.

Hauling large rocks for the barrier that will hold back the sea.

Breach.

Many hands make kite work!

Let's go fly a kite...

Up to the highest height...

(Shayla distracted from her reading)

Bloody knee--small price to pay for great surfing!

For my guy

The Anniversary

27 years together is an accomplishment worth noting. We are two people who could not be more different. It was once documented when our very detailed personality profiles (after filling out a fifty-page questionnaire each) were used as an example in a business conference as two people who were complete opposites in a way the moderator had never seen in all of his years of professional experience. Ironically, of all the couples in that room at the time, we are one of the few who are still together. What is our secret? Sheer determination? Sometimes. Stubborn stick-to-it-iveness? That helps. A little bit of crazy? Can't hurt.
But the real secret is: I don't know. I can't narrow it down to one or two things. It's taking one day at a time.  It's dinner on the table. It's socks in the hamper. It's paying the insurance. It's compromising on  what kind of chips to buy. It's leaky roofs and leaky toilets. It's diapers and ear infections. It's getting through and getting by. It's laughing. Lots of laughing. It's being all in, come heck or high water (and trust me, we've had both). It's worry and contentment. It's insane and reasonable. It's highs and lows. It's the mundane and the sublime. It's you and me. It's us. It's forever. It's wonderful.

The Beach Was Calling

We only have a few days left with Spencer before he embarks upon his two years of service in the California, Sacramento, Hmong Speaking Mission.

The beach seemed like the perfect place to spend one of those days. Here we are!

Spencer looking debonair in his new shades and
Official Missionary Haircut

Sam's Serious face

Getting ready to catch a wave.

Still getting ready

And they're off!

Sam's Happy face

Seth, Shayla and Sam relaxing in the sand--gazing

out at the Mighty Deep.

Shane tolerating the beach: no sun, and as little sand as possible.

For My Guy