Now THAT's a visiting teacher!

I love my visiting teachers, Jackie and Deanna. They're about 10 years older than me, and have been around the block. They're wise and funny and smart. My friend, Jackie, once told me when I was (yet again) planning my funeral "Oh, Arlene, we're not going to give you a funeral. We're just going to put you in a glad bag and haul you out to the cemetery."

A lot of people wouldn't find that funny, but I laugh every time I think about it. I'm such a pain in the ass, with my hypochondria and my melancholia.

And they come!!!

Yesterday, we were visiting and I mentioned, as I folded clothes, that I couldn't get Bill's garments to come clean, they are gray, for some reason.

They told me it was the Downy I'd been putting in them. Jackie jumped up and said, "Oh, I know how to fix that! Get your dishwasher soap."

And she went into the bathroom, and dumped the basket of garments in the tub, and poured dishwasher soap on them as she ran the hot water.

Then she picked up my plunger and mixed them around. Kneeling over the tub with my plunger as Deanna and I looked on.

Dang, you guys, you wouldn't believe the gunk that came out of those just-washed garments! I ran them through a cycle in my washer and they look darn good!

Now that's the spirit of visiting teaching. Deanna is just newly reactivated (I was her visiting teacher for quite awhile) and she plays the piano in Relief Society now and she is being a strength to me as I struggle. She lost a son to cancer and we cry together. Jackie is there for me at all times. I know I can count on them.

That's how to be a visiting teacher, you guys.

Sarah shoulda been a blond

Sarah is a beautiful, willowy, green eyed brunette. She was the same age as the twins next door, who are black, and she thought she was black for the longest time. I never told her different, I don't know how she figured it out. Actually, she figured, quite accurately, that they were all "bwown."

But, you know, no offense to any blonds, she is the blondest brunette I know.

Today, she called me, very upset, from her new apartment, saying "Mom, tell dad he needs to come right away. I can't get the water off in the tub."

I said, "go get your landlord." Who is next door. She did, and called right back with the news that they weren't home.

"And it's the hot water, too, Mom!"

I said, "go over to the people across the street, they're nice, there has to be a water shutoff valve somewhere. Is it going down the drain?"

She said, "I'll go see. Yes. Oh. I was turning it the wrong way. It's off now."

I was very quiet because she gets mad at me when I laugh at stuff. Then she laughed. So of course I had to. I said, "If your dad had come all the way into town just to shut off your faucet, he'd've killed you."

And she told me she'd done that before. We all think she should have been born blond.

Me and Bill are going to retire in five years and we're moving away from our kids. Our grandkids will have to come see us once a year or something because I'm worn out. I don't want to be a mom anymore. Do any of you young girls realize you are going to have to mother those children until you die???Even if you're 85???

I'm back

I thought I would probably die from this latest round of mononucleosis. It hit so hard, I couldn't sit up for long, let alone stand.

However, I am practically cured. This is the third time in the last twelve years I've had acute mono, dealing with chronic fatigue and fibromyalgia in the times between, plus the affects of aging and my deep and chronic depression.

This time, however, I knew the drill. I got into my NAET practitioner and began treatment for viruses and mono and epstein-barr. I know there's no cure, but there sure is hope and relief and the day after my first treatment, I was on my way to remission. My medical doctor told me just to live with it and take it easy.

The NAET guy put me on his machine, then he did the acupressure with exposure to the virus, sent me home with a portable stimulater (NOT a vibrator), and I kept up with it and damn if I don't feel a whole new person.

I have no illusions about a complete cure. But I know I will never be debilitated for years as I was before I started alternative medicine. That was about two years ago.

I have another witch doctor who puts glasses on me and they flash lights and once he hit my trigger points with a laser while ringing some sort of chime. And I felt better! I'm not one to pretend to feel better if I don't. This stuff works somehow.

I believe, too, there's a science behind it because this time, on Monday, I had a blood test for mono and epstein barr counts at the hospital that took four days to come back. Friday morning, I got into my NAET guy. His machine took seconds to show a high virus count, and his treatment took about 20 minutes. An hour after I got home, I got the call from my doctor saying that the blood test showed acute mono and high EB counts. Nothing they could do, they said, just rest. I said, "thanks." And thought I'd have saved a lot of time being ill, and money, if I'd just gone to the source in the first place.

No lie, you guys. This stuff works.

Eh???

Bill and I are both hard of hearing. My hearing loss is recent, but it's sure been interesting. I borrowed his hearing aid for my right ear and it was amazing how much better I could hear. Do you have any idea how much hearing aids cost??? $4000. Yup. Tons. My implants are costing a little over $5000, so hearing aids are out for me for awhile. I want Bill to let me wear one and he can wear one, but he's emotionally attached to them now. I told him the doctor said my ears are very very clean, but he's keeping them hidden from me now.

Last night, after we got little Rowan to sleep and we were both exhausted and lying in bed, he said, "what's that?"

I said, "what?"

And he said, "I said, goodnight, hon."

And I laid there a minute, then I just cracked up. And we both had a laugh.

Today, after dealing with Rowan(she is such a pistol, talks and moves non-stop), the dogs, the bills, and the house, I headed uptown at noon to do some errands and take her to a craft class at the craft store. I live 5 miles out of town. I took Bill his lunch, but as I got out of the car, realized I didn't have my purse.

"Bad word."

I went into the dealership with Rowan carrying Grandpa's lunch and said, "Hi hon, I am having the worst day. I forgot my purse and I have to go back home and get it."

He said, "Before you go, I need a couple of checks for Home Depot."

I said, "I forgot my purse and I have to go back home and get it."

He said, "where's your drivers license?"

Me: Head exploded.

What a day. I also owe Rowan a million dollars when I get it because we made a bet that Max didn't have a middle name and Max didn't think he did, and guess what, he does. So I'm in hock to my granddaughter till eternity.

And me and Bill are wandering through our days failing to communicate.

"Put a Sock in it!" Grrrrrrrrr

My sister says "the strangest things happen to you, Arlene." And she's right. I don't get up in the morning and think "what strange thing can I make happen today" but it seems to be a gift.

Yesterday, Bill and I went to church with Madison. She, on her own, has started going to church. We're so proud of her and disgusted with her parents. She wanted to bear her testimony, so we went with her. It was fun because it was our "home ward" both of us had lived in for awhile and we had lots of friends there. One of James' childhood friends is in the bishopric and that is always fun.

But, the strangest thing happened. We were sitting next to a woman who talked loudly to her husband throughout the whole meeting. He kept saying, "shhh...." Anyway, she bounced up to bear her testimony right at the first of the meeting and went on for 20 minutes about her daughter's move to Texas and the problem with the black movers who kept stealing things.
She actually said, "They stole her makeup. I mean, com'on. Does a black guy need makeup?"

Now. I got my problems. I'm a bigot in areas. But that just enraged me. I've known this woman for 30 years and like her. She's always been a little bit manic, but she was nutso yesterday. I leaned over to Bill and said "oh, honey, stop me if I get up and start to rip her face off."

It bothered the two black families who were sitting in back of me also. They got up and walked out during her testimony. Dang, that bothers.

She finally sat down, and others got up, but she talked even more loudly to her husband, excitedly, and leaned over to my husband and said, "Bill, why didn't you stop me, I can't believe I talked so long, why didn't you cut me off (making that hand gesture on her throat)?"

At that point, I leaned over and whispered loudly, "Helen."

She said, "What?"

I said, "Put a sock in it, I'm trying to listen to the speakers." And I made the cutting gesture. And sat back.

She jumped up and ran out. And the rest of the meeting was quiet.

At the close of the meeting, I was hugging my granddaughter and telling her how much I loved her and how proud I was and I would be back to pick her up after YW (I was going to my ward RS) when somebody grabbed my shoulder and I looked up into Helen's tear streaked face.

She started going on about how I'd ruined the meeting for her, all kinds of stuff that I didn't remember. I snapped, "GROW UP!" and turned away from her as Madison walked off, to say hi to some old friends. She gasped and was quiet for a minute.

But she wouldn't let it--or me go. She went on and on in my face. Luckily for her, I didn't lose my temper. Or she'd have two black eyes and I'd be in jail. I said, "Helen, I like you. But it was incredibly rude of you to talk out loud and I wanted to hear what that guy was saying."

She was off again. You guys, it's entirely possible she was on steroids, she was acting nuts. Finally, I said, "Helen, this isn't the time or the place to have this conversation. I'm leaving."

Now, she was babbling to Bill, also, and her husband was just traumatized, he didn't hear what I'd said to her (we're all hard of hearing LOL). He didn't know what she was bawling about. He kept asking me. And I was just leaving. He finally got that I'd hurt her feelings and when I said, "I have to leave" he said angrily, "yes, you do."

I left the room, leaving (My husband can be the sweetest guy) Bill there with her and her husband. I looked back and Bill had his arms around her patting her back as she cried.

I frankly didn't give a crap. But I was thinking, "drama follows me like a bad cold."

I'm going to send her a card with flowers apologizing for my blantant unkindness. I'm not saying I'm sorry. But I know this woman. She is not a racist, nor is she mean. (I am mean). She is a moron, obviously, but a ditzy, hyperative woman. She is kind at heart, I know.

She must be going through menopause and she is in remission for breast cancer and obviously having some mental problems. For me to have ripped her a new butthole, or to have taken her out in the back and beat the crap out of her, either with my fists or words, would have been to easy and have been my bad.

In fact, I think my unkindness was the more egregious error.

Although, I called her bishop this morning and he said he spent the rest of the day trying to reconcile the two black families and hours in the evening trying to get Helen, who did not realize what she'd said and was mortified, to calm down. He said he thought somebody needed to tell her off. Not in those words, but somebody needed to tell her, anyway.

Last night I kept thinking of all your guys crazy church stories and thought, "well, I sure have a good one now."

Elevator Conversation

This conversation took place in the maybe 60 seconds it took us to get from 1st to 3rd floor of the medical building. You can say a lot in 60 seconds.

So I followed the cute little family with a hyper 5 year old (I'm guessing on the age) and a darling little girl, maybe two, cute little butt in denim shorts, pigtails. She started to grab my hand thinking I was her mom. I was charmed.

A Tom Cruise look-alike pharmacutical salesman jumped on at the last minute and we all looked at each other for a few seconds, then no one could think of anything to say. He looked down.

I spoke quietly: "you guys, just think if this elevator got stuck and we were on here for hours and we told each other all our secrets and got in huge dramatic fights and stuff."

Dead silence.

Then the salesman laughed and said, "that's the strangest thing I've ever heard on an elevator."

Me, thinking ("don't you ever watch TV?")

The young mother said, "I'm claustrophobic, I'd go nuts."

I said, "you guys, just think, she'd go nuts and the elevator would open on the third floor and we'd all be dead because she killed us in her phobic rage."

They all laughed, realizing I was harmless crazy. The young family got off on the second floor, and I traveled on with my new best friend.

I said, "has anybody ever told you you look like Tom Cruise?"

And he said, "All the time."

And I said, "Actually, you look better than Tom Cruise, because you're better dressed and not getting fat and your hairstyle is better."

He held the elevator door for me and laughed and said, "thanks, have a nice day."

And that's the story of my life, how you can get to know people really well, relatively speaking, in 60 seconds. Happens all the time. True story, every word.

Steroids, my new drug of choice

I've lost three teeth in the back of my mouth and OH!

LET ME TELL YOU, THIS IS IMPORTANT, IF YOU LOSE A TOOTH, OR THREE IN THE BACK, DON'T GO FOR CHEAPER, DON'T GET DENTURES. YOU CAN'T EAT ON THEM. DENTURES SHOULD BE OUTLAWED. REALLY. AVOID DENTURES!

Anyway, so now I'm getting implants (very expensive and my insurance doesn't cover. my poor husband) and last week they moved my sinuses and put in bone grafts and I got sick, of course. Well, the first two days I felt great. Did too much.

Then I got sick, long story and the swelling won't go down and my lymph glands are all swollen and I look bruised well i don't look bruised, I AM bruised. On one side, so I look like a bearded lady and people give me weird looks at IHOP, like "that poor girl, why doesn't she leave him?"

Anyway, Dental Surgeon is now in Mexico, Ear Nose and Throat guy out of town, and I started on my second round of antiobiotics and the swelling got worse. So I go to the ER and got a stupid dr. who put me on very dangerous antibiotics--to take with others no less (Not to worry, the pharmacist gave me a heads up and I didn't take them), but he gave me Decadron.

I took two. Which is why I'm awake and mouthy.

But you guys, these make you feel good. All happy and energetic and full of optimism. I'd take those if I played baseball. Or was a movie star or and pretty rich girl who sticks her boobs out artfully and is now wasting away in jail. I would.

I had no idea steroids made you feel good. I thought they messed up your metabolism and made you have muscles or something.

My most embarrassing moment

My daughter, Sarah, has an unusual voice in writing. I love to read what she writes because I know her so well and I can just hear her speaking. She has a radiant and sweet personality and is slightly goofy. Unlike me, I am totally a goofball.

She and Nick have moved to Orem to go to school and I find myself missing her more than I've missed her since she was oh, maybe 12.

I remembered a paper she wrote when she was about 15. A part of it went like "Would you like to know my most embarrassing moment, that didn't even happen to me? I'll tell you! It was in fifth grade. We were all in class and it was very quiet and my best friend, Lisa, farted very loud and everybody laughed. Lisa farting in class was my most embarrassing moment."

She wrote a couple of e-mails to her teacher, one saying: "Mr. E., Instead of passing back our papers from left to right, I would appreciate it if you would now pass them from right to left because I don't want BJ to see what my grades are. Thank you for coperation" (that's how she spelled it.)

The other said: "I have checked my grades on-line and you still haven't given me credit for that assignment I handed in. Please fix this or I will be forced to make a complaint. Thank you."

She was in eighth grade.

My most embarrassing moments are too painful to discuss. I have plenty of funny moments that others might consider humiliating, but the real embarrassments, I don't talk about.

My new addiction

I have discovered Tetris. Bill and I always bicker when we travel because his driving bothers me (if I drive, we bicker, also, because my driving bothers him). So I went to Wal-Mart and got a recommendation from a kid to try Tetris.

It works like a charm. I sit with my nose glued to the game and never notice when he drives off the road. He won't play it when I drive though. Probably too hard for him.

But, you guys, I think I'm getting pretty good at it. Like I can get up to six without even trying. I've never made it past nine, but at first I never got past zero.

My grandson says he's been to 30, but I think he's fibbing. Imagine fibbing to your own grandma so she won't know she's better than you.

I take it everywhere and I'm like a snotty teenager, ignoring everyone and playing my game. It's wonderful to watch TV with because I can't just sit and watch TV.

Well, I like technology.

You cannot get a man to say another man is cute. Mostly.

I had the coolest talk with Daniel Bartholomew today, it's fun to "meet" people you've met on the blog. Let me see, I've met Heather Pitts and Sarebear in real life, and talked to two Lisas on the phone. FMH Lisa and Lisa's Rambling Lisa. Awesome.

But this is funny. to me. Daniel and I discussed a mutual acquaintance on the blog, a guy, and I asked, "what did he look like?" He said, "tall."

I said, "is he cute?"

He wouldn't answer. I laughed and said "woman totally notice if another woman is beautiful. If a woman goes up and bears fervent testimony, we will notice her clothes and hair."

Bill won't tell me if another man is cute, either. He literally can't describe another man except in terms of height. Sometimes weight--skinny or chubby, that's it.

I will say, "give me a break, he was standing right in front of you. You can't tell if he's homely or good-looking?"

"My mind doesn't work that way."

That's what Daniel said, too. Yeah, right. Go, girls.

Movie Reviews

Bill and I have gone over to Netflix. I quite enjoy it because I hate shopping and being in a video store makes my brain numb.

I've seen some good ones lately.
I thought I would become Roger Ebert. If John Mellencamp can do it, so can I.

The Painted Veil - The best movie I've seen in a long time, also the saddest. I can't remember anybody's name, but a good man (Edward Norton) falls in love with a rather vacuous, although lovely (Naomi Watts). They live in China and the photography alone makes this movie worth watching. Or maybe somewhere in Asia.

I don't want to spoil it, but this is a very good movie.

Venus - They use the F word all the time, perhaps there's other cussing. Peter O'Toole's performance redeems everything objectionable in this movie. I think everyone acts well, but Peter O'Toole, he's hot at 87. This is such a sweet movie. Although I haven't seen the end yet, so if it ends badly, not my bad.

DreamGirls - I don't think you really can sue somebody for telling your life story or even an event from your life, if it's public, but if you can, Diana Ross and Barry Gordy have a case. This is blatant Supremes. DreamGirls tells it like the Diana Ross person (Deena, I think) didn't have near as much talent as the (Mary Wilson?) person.

I actually think Beyonce Knowles was pretty good in this, not Oscar good, but pretty good. Eddie Murphy was good, I heard he sang his own songs, and he did well. The music was enjoyable, but didn't rise to the level of my two top soundtracks: The Big Chill and Phenomenon. This movie was okay, not over-done with the musical numbers and I thought the ending was sweet.

Little Children - Well, I thought this movie was something else entirely and I recommend against it. Way sex, way. Naked bodies. Adultery, perversion. Skip it.
Although, the ending was actually the best part of the movie, because the guy who'd persecuted the sex offender, to the point of causing his mother to die of a heart attack, shows genuine remorse and apologizes and it does end with hope.

Well, I know it was awful, but I wanted to see how it ended, thus I fast forwarded quite a bit.

Catch and Release - This movie was so much better than the reviews led me to believe it would be, Jennifer Garner is really a wonderful person and I guess that's what comes out in her acting. Although, it could be acting.

Diane Keaton has made these quasi-comedies and there have been several others that promise to be funny and they're not funny or entertaining, so I was prepared to be disappointed. But this movie was just right in so many ways, sweet, funny, profound, lovely.

The fat guy, I'd go out with him if I were 25 years younger. I liked him the best of all the guys in the movie. I just enjoyed his personality.

That's it for now! Next, I'm getting The Office, Season 1, The Good German and Letters From Iwo Jima. Bill always gets two and I get one because all present evidence to the contrary, I don't watch movies that much LOL.

Would anybody recommend The Woodsman? I rented The Departed and Bill sent it back before I could even watch it and Sarah told me not to, although my hairdresser loved it. Bill knows me though, excessive violence bothers.

test

This n That, playing with picture card :)

Princess Buttgold has turned 21. She's officially an adult. Her sister is taking her out "clubbing and dancing" tonight, which makes me nervous. But not too. Sarah is a good kid. I laughed and asked her husband if he was okay was that and he said, "I trust Sarah." She celebrated her birthday with our little granddaughter, Rhiannon, aka "Beannie."

Her mother started calling her "the bean" when she was a newborn because she was so tiny and skinny and long. Now everyone calls her Beannie. She has this mass of curly hair but some bald spots so for her birthday we gave her a blue wig. She was in heaven. Beannie is a little snot, she's very busy and stubborn--she's so our relative :). We celebrated her third birthday and Sarah's the same day. We spoiled her rotten and we were all exhausted when her dad finally took her home.

AND, Rowan graduated kindergarten! She had her final dance review, Maddie's voice review is next week and Max is done with the Scout-a-Rama. The last week has been so peaceful at my house.

When Sarah graduated from pre-school, they wore caps and gowns, no lie. Rowan's teacher scaled it down a bit and it was pleasant and short.

And the only thing I can think of is how peaceful my life is going to be with no lessons to truck kids to.

.

Home Sweet Home

I've been in St. George for the last couple days, dentist and doctor visits and the like. I enjoy the get-aways by myself. I always stay in the same modest clean little motel and I feel sort of free being all by myself. I give myself permission to wander, to window shop and relax.

Although St. George isn't very relaxing this time of the year--it's so hot! It was sure nice to come home to this homey little house after two days of navigating the traffic and enduring the heat. It's always nice to come home.

We have a small family room downstairs, but we seldom use it anymore. This is our "front room." There's a small antique (but working) wood stove in the corner. It's a cozy room with lots of fishing pictures. I call it Bill's room, because I wanted him to have a place to be comfortable in and I can be near him.

My office is always cluttery--I would like to say I know where everything is, but I frequently lose things and forget what I'm doing. Bill has a shop out back with a full size fridge (kept stocked with his favorites), a work bench, a TV hooked up to satellite, and all his fly tying stuff. It's very neat and organized.

Don't tell Julie I poached her idea :). I'm figuring out my digital camera and the stuff you can do with it.

School is almost out, Thank God

My former, much maligned, sometimes unfairly--by me, daughter-in-law moved back to Cedar City last summer. She flies by the seat of her pants, everything is at a high drama level and the resulting chaos and messiness drive me crazy. She's a sweet mama, though, and she loves the kids. I started out the year by volunteering in kindergarten (Rowan) and 2nd grade (Max), and trucking the kids every Wednesday to their lessons.

My Wednesdays went like this:

1:30 Drive 2 miles north to pick up the younger kids at school (Rowan always shouts "I knew you'd come!")

1:30-2 pm Drive 4 miles south to Maverik for a very important part of our day, treats at Maverik. I started out spending $20 a shot, but we're down now to a thrifty $2.50, $1.25 per kid and they are serious about their choices.

2:30 pm Drive 2 more miles south to pick up Madison at middle school, take her for her treats, while Rowan and Max sit in the car and argue politics. Rowan never shuts up and Max can't resist arguing with everything she says.

3 pm Drive 2 yet more miles into the center of town to drop Max off to karate, he usually changed in the car.

3-3:45 Drive 7 miles home home, listen to Rowan read, and discuss politics with her while Maddie eats all the doritos and watches TV and surfs the web.

4 pm Drive back into town (4 miles) to drop Maddie off for voice.

4-4:30 pm Run errands, then wait in the car outside Maddie's voice lesson till 4:30

4:30 Drive 4 miles back to my house to drop Maddie off to veg, eat and watch TV (we have satellite, and the internet, they don't, she's 12--guess why she likes to come to my house)

5 pm Drive 5 miles back out to Enoch to drop Rowan off to dance, she changes in the car

5:15 pm Drive 7 miles back into town to pick Max up from karate

6 pm Drive 5 miles back to dance to pick up Rowan

Sometimes I have dinner on in a crockpot, sometimes I take them for a hamburger before taking them home.

But you young mothers, I have so much respect for you. This is one huge reason I'm exhausted and have much less time to blog.

Come June, lessons will end, recitals will be over and I won't be trucking kids. I paid for their lessons and I knew they wouldn't make them unless I took them. I resent this a little, only because when I have to drive them, etc. and have them all the same day, I don't enjoy them. I don't get to rest with them, read with them.

But they know me. They feel totally comfortable and welcome in my house. I have become what my grandma was, a port in the storm, because although their mother is sweet and loving, their home life is so chaotic and my stepson so unpredictable, going between abuse and kindness, these children need some stability, something they can count on to always be the same.

And you know, it's worth it every time Max looks up from his schoolwork, sees me waiting in the hall and the kids say ("Max, it's your grandma!") and he gives me that shy smile, trying not to look excited. And Rowie runs up to me in the middle of the story her teacher is reading and throws her arms around me and says "I knew you'd come." I knew you'd come. Please, God, let me have the strength to always be there for these children.

And thank you for June and the end of school.

Bored with life

I think I might be getting depressed again, maybe the Cymbalta has plateaued, but I'm going to the doctor today. Perhaps he will suggest a nice glass of red wine in the middle of the afternoon for a pick me up.

I don't feel much like blogging, I feel like vegging out in front of the TV. In front of the TV in my beautiful pretend bathroom that has a Jacuzzi tub and TV with remote and lots of channels.

So I'll probably be AWOL for awhile. I keep thinking I'll refresh and I do, a little, and go like gangbusters, then I get bored and tired again. I never thought I'd be bored with blogging, but I sort of am.

Sorry, guys. You loyal few :).

Eight Cow Wife

I just realized I didn't blog about my anniversary--what we did. First, well, last, but this is so cool, I learned how to text message and spent the ride home playing with Bill's phone. Then I spent the next week text messaging the only child of mine who would answer me. It's quite fun and now I am like a teenager totally ignoring people around me as I click with my thumbs.

When Bill and I got engaged, I didn't get a diamond. I wanted one--I never had one in my first marriage--but we were poor and had the kids and other considerations. I kept hoping he'd value me enough to go into debt to get one, but he listened to me when I said never mind. So I didn't get one and I held it against him.

About five years after we got married, he gave me a pair of tiny diamond earrings. When I saw that box, I was thrilled, thinking it was finally a diamond. I tried not to show my disappointment. When I turned forty, he gave me a beautiful diamond necklace. I love it, but my resentment festered because I am that way.

While I held it against him for not getting me one, though, I never thought I really deserved it. I never thought I was a normal girl or even one anyone should marry, let alone gift with a beautiful ring. My inferiority complex kept me in a prison as I went back and forth, resenting him and feeling sorry for myself, then berating myself as unworthy, then feeling even sorrier for myself because I hated myself.

Am I a nutjob or what? Well, this year he did it. He bought me a beautiful anniversary ring, small and simple with shiny diamonds, exactly what I would want.

He cried when he gave it to me, I was in shock, but you guys, you wouldn't believe how it has changed our relationship. It just feels more official. I feel more valuable.

I always chastised myself for being materialistic in wanting that ring. And I got after Sarah because she felt Nicolas could have done better than the pawn shop diamond he got her (the stone kept falling out and now it's lost) and, when she couldn't wear her ring because of the aforementioned falling out of the diamone, I'm the one who put the bug in Nick's ear to buy her a band. A $30 band from Wal-Mart.

I don't think Sarah will feel good about herself until Nick puts a real ring on her finger. I don't want to make anybody feel bad here, but for heaven's sake, Bill and I wasted 25 years feeling bad about something that he could have fixed in the first place with a $500 ring. It seems a cheap trade off.

Women have tender feelings. These things mean a heck of a lot more than a material possession.

Welfare Mom

My mother was a welfare mom. We still went hungry but she always had booze and cigarettes. I sort of grew up embarrassed and a bad feeling towards welfare moms.

But I'm having second thoughts. I'm thinking "mom" is the important word here.

My daughter-in-law, who I've griped about to the heavens has moved to our area with my four grandchildren. She gets some child support from my stepson, but I'm not sure how much or how consistent he is, as we are mostly estranged.

She's working at Albertson's in their pharmacy from 11 am to 9 pm, making something like $11 an hour. She's had a tough time getting babysitters for that late at night. I have the three oldest kids on Wednesdays after school and her foster family helps out quite a bit, but it's still a dodgy proposition.

The state will pay for her babysitter, approximately $2000 a month. But they will not pay her $2000 a month to stay home with her kids.

That just doesn't make sense to me. It seems like it would benefit society for her to be home, assuming she's not drunk out of her gourd like my mother or stoned, etc. She's got her faults, but those kids would be better off with their mother.

In this case and others like it, forcing them to work defeats the purpose and tends to break up the family even more.

My marriage Part 2

Well, I didn't realize I was sounding so negative in my prior post. I guess I need to clarify a couple of things. First of all, Bill would disagree that he didn't love me. In fact, he often does :). I will say, "no, you didn't." And he will say, "I did, too. It was just a hard adjustment."

Tell me about it. I went from a free and easy life with one child to three children and a husband. I'd only needed to work part time and I was more of a bachelor than Bill was. We ate macaroni and cheese. He canned his own tomatoes, did his ironing and kept a spotless house. He dated one other woman besides me. I had a little black book.

When I was happy, I was very happy. We both agree that when it's good between us, it's excellent. But when we aren't getting along (think Felix and Oscar), it's pretty bad. But despite the terrible times, we've always had a spark. Sex is not to be underestimated.

I will now go on with the story of my marriage. Looking back, I don't know how I survived four kids. I always had a couple of callings, worked in the PTA, bottled all the vegetables we ate, ground the flour that made the bread we ate, cooked, cleaned, and washed. I trucked kids to baseball, dance lessons, piano lessons, scout activities. I did birthday parties, Christmas, Easter, and on and on.

I remember when the kids would get sick and we couldn't seem to shake the flu, I would strip the beds and wash blankets, spreads, mattress covers, everything. Looking back, I worked my tail off. Oh, and I managed the finances, paying all the bills and doing the shopping.

Heck it's no wonder I was a nutjob.

Now when I have my four grandkids overnight, I have to rest for a week.

My heart just goes out to you young mothers. Honestly.

Bill, despite his devotion to the gospel, was less than supportive about family home evenings (which we had faithfully until James died and I lost all faith in these programs--and myself) and scripture reading and prayers. He is a task oriented person. He's definitely the one you want around if something needs doing.

However, as men go, he was probably better than a lot of men. He would rock the kids at night, cook, and he's always good for washing dishes.

The middle years of our marriage, looking back, were simply consumed with surviving parenthood and hoping our kids would survive as well. Being a blended family, we had unique challenges in his ex-wife and her influence against what we were trying to instill in the kids. Bill and James never got along. It was more my fault than either of them. Long story for another day.

Now, Sarah got married a year and a half ago. After the year of me going kind of crazy with menopause and adjusting to being alone in the house with my husband, we are coming to another place in our life.

He's getting to be my best friend. Don't tell him I said that in case I ever hate him and change my mind.

But really, life is so different without kids in the house. We have more money. It's quiet. We are forced to get to know each other and appreciate each other, perhaps for the first time in our lives.

Young people who marry have at least nine months together to get to know each other, to bond, and solidify their commitment. We didn't have that, so we're sort of backwards. It's sort of peaceful and pleasant now.

I can see his sterling qualities. And he's nicer to me. Thank God kids leave home.

As for my wish that I'd been one of God's smarter children and chosen to stay in heaven, I'm still convinced that's the way to go. Marriage is only one hardship of mortality. I really don't believe anybody told me mortality was mostly hard. I think I got sold on the body, becoming like Heavenly Father, "it'll only be a minute out of eternity" that sort of sales tactics. Somebody up there is a very good salesman. I should have read the fine print.

My marriage Part 1 of 2

As I posted before, Bill and I have been married 25 years. This is a total miracle. Also Bill isn't a quitter. I am. If it were up to me, we'd have been divorced the first year.

Bill didn't love me when we got married. I wasn't his type at all, I was the total opposite of his former wife and it took him some time to stop trying to re-make me in her image. I felt I was totally out-classed by both of them and I allowed this for awhile before my inner nutjob came out and I began to regularly rip his face off.

We met on a blind date-set up by my bishop, no less. I was dating someone else quite seriously and I didn't want to go out with Bill. My bishop said, "I'm not asking you to marry the guy. He's just divorced and I want to fix him up with a date." I grudgingly agreed to go out with him.

You guys, he was so hot, tall, dark, and handsome with a deep voice and a commanding air. He spent our first date talking about his ex-wife (who'd cheated on him and left him with their children). I figured he was too "pretty" and on the rebound and trouble and when he asked me out again, I said no. Also, I was almost engaged to somebody else.

But I broke up with the other guy (long story) and I needed a date for this ward thing. So I called Bill, totally blase about it and asked him to go. We went out a couple of times and the other guy was killed in a terrible accident. That was a rough time in my life. But Bill and I bonded.

He seemed to really like me, but I think it was all physical as I look back on it. He proposed about six weeks after we began dating in earnest. I must confess that I wasn't really in love with him, either. He was handsome and rich (I thought, what a joke :) and active in the church. He seemed perfect.

We did have an idyllic six weeks of engagement and a wonderful honeymoon. Everything ended when we had to come home and take care of three kids and deal with the laundry and bills. And he realized he wasn't married to his ex-wife anymore and I realized I wasn't married to Jesus reincarnated.

I was prettier than she was but not as organized. Not as good a cook or housewife. I drove him crazy with my emotional demands. He thought now that he had a babysitter all he had to do was go to work and bowhunting. And bowling and play poker with his friends.

This is sort of funny, but he gets mixed up about "our song." He still thinks it was "You Are the Sunshine of My Life" which was his and Julie's song. Every once in awhile he will say "you are the sunshine of my life." I reminded him once that was Julie's song, but he's old and senile now, so I just look at him and sort of smile and think "I married a moron who only looks like Gregory Peck."

It was rough for the first, oh, 24 1/2 years. LOL. I threw him out regularly the first two years, had a total breakdown from exhaustion and stress. Through it all, I cooked and bottled and stretched the few dollars we had to clothe the kids and provide them with lessons and bikes.

But I can honestly say that, while I've been legally married for 25 years, I've only been happily married, oh--maybe six months. That would be the first month, this last month, and a day here and there in between. I won't know if we had a good marriage till we're both dead and can look back and see if it worked after all.

And I still often think if I had to do it over again, I'd be a ministering angel to all you guys and skip all the grief of mortality.