Happy Thanksgiving!

 Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! 

I made an impulse purchase at the store the other day. Little dog beds with an insulated fabric cover were on sale, and I thought Marmite might feel more cozy at night in one of those. He refuses to wear a blanket while in his current flat dog bed on the floor under the bottom shelf of our book case, but around five in the morning, he will tick-tick his toenails over to my side of the bed and ask to be lifted up so he can snuggle in between us and get warm. 

I realized when I brought the dog bed inside and measured it against Marmite that it was slightly small. No matter, I thought. It will just be warmer and cozier for him. How delightful!

Marmite came to sniff and inspect the bed, of course. I put my hands on him and encouraged him to get inside and curl up on the little pillow. A frantic but silent struggle ensued, and Marmite made it abundantly clear that not only will he never sleep in that bed, he will never be enticed to ever again show interest in it. Marmite continues to sleep on his former dog bed and still curls up with us in the early morning. The new dog bed will go to my parents for one of their cats. 

We will see my parents, brothers, sister (the other sister is living too far away to join us), and nieces and nephews on Saturday and enjoy a traditional Thanksgiving meal with them. For us, it was a restful Thanksgiving day yesterday. My oldest daughter and her family went to visit her in-laws for the week, and it's been quiet in this house. Too quiet. I miss the voices of my little grandsons and the constant demands from the 2-year-old to go visit Husband's vastly interesting garage workshop, holding the 6-month-old while he jabbers and bounces on my knee, and my 5-year-old grandson explaining why blue is his favorite color. 

Though I miss my grandsons, it did occur to me on Wednesday that Husband and my sons and I could have a movie marathon in the living room because we would not be bothering the little guys downstairs. I bought snacks and goodies, and Husband and I watched the fourth and fifth Harry Potter movies while my sons immediately left to go to their rooms because movie marathons are not a thing for them. Ah well. I still had a good time, and I even stayed mostly awake for the last part of the second movie before we closed up the house and went to bed.

Yesterday, Thanksgiving Day, two of my other daughters were scheduled to go to their in-laws' houses for the day, so we just had the boys here until Gabrielle and her husband, Raine, came over in the afternoon. They had been planning on spending the day with Raine's parents, but when he called them to confirm, they surprised him by telling him they had gone to California to visit one of his grandmothers. That meant they could come to us, so we had a fun time with them before enjoying a simple Thanksgiving meal in the evening. It started to snow, so they left by 8pm, which is also, coincidentally, the time when I start thinking about going to bed. My body doesn't let me sleep past 5:30 or 6am anymore, so I get sleepy in the evenings. Eating supper at 6pm is almost too late anymore.

I have officially become old.

Husband has continued to help me put my craft room together. He has built shelves and installed pegboard while I have tried to tame and organize the sheer volume of crafting tools I have collected over the years. It has been daunting, but the chaos is slowly receding. I have so enjoyed having that room for playing my cello and for being able to play with my "toys." When I'm overwhelmed, I organize my embroidery floss, winding the floss onto paper rectangles that I can then arrange by number in small plastic boxes. Very soothing.

This craft room is still a work in progress, but order is arising from the chaos. I have places to store my stamps, papers, book-making supplies, embroidery materials, yarn and threads, fabrics, and more. My cello is to the left, ready for practicing at any time (no more wrestling it out of and back into its case!).

A few news highlights:

~ After numerous tests, it turns out that the reason for my voice deterioration is due to silent acid reflux damage. The good news is that it isn't something more serious, like thyroid issues, polyps or cysts on my vocal chords, or some sort of throat cancer. The ENT estimated that it would take at least five or six months from beginning daily omeprazole (an acid inhibitor) to seeing any sort of recovery, but it's been a few months and I have yet to see any improvement. In fact, I have seen my voice deteriorate further, to the point where my speaking voice is rough enough for people to notice and comment and there is a further decrease of my singing range to about four notes. 

While I cannot sing in either my county choir or my ward choir anymore, I still have the opportunity to enjoy music. I can fill in for the ward choir pianist when needed, and I was asked to play piano accompaniment for a duet by my friend and her son--both of whom have lovely voices--and that went very well. I have also very much enjoyed playing my cello. Since my husband and children surprised me with professional cello strings for my birthday recently, my cello practice has been elevated, and sitting down to play my cello is something I very much look forward to every day. I didn't realize the astounding difference in tone and quality the new strings would produce, and it helped me gain some confidence in my playing because I now realize that the squeaks and squawks my cello made were not entirely my fault. The new strings (which were expensive but worth the price!) sound rich and full, which makes my non-professional cello sound almost professional. I have been working on technique, and I have been very pleased with the progress I am making.

Even though I can't sing with my choir and no longer attend practices, they asked me to emcee the upcoming Christmas concert. Denise sent me a text message about it during one of their Saturday evening rehearsals, and when I agreed to be the emcee, she then sent me a short video of all of them shouting, "We love you, Eva!" That made my heart swell. I miss the joy and laughter and hard work of choir rehearsals, though I also enjoy spending Saturday evenings with Husband and the boys. 

~Speaking of my boys, my youngest, Gary, is now working two jobs. His goal is to save money for a plane ticket and spending cash for a trip to England. He and one of his English cousins of the same age have become good friends by connecting through online games, and Gary would love to visit him in person as well as see the country of his father's birth and heritage. The new job is at a the one bakery in town. He comes home smelling like doughnuts, and he sometimes comes home with a big box of doughnuts if they have leftovers for the day. While it's hard to work two jobs, his savings account is looking pretty good. I cannot believe how much he has grown in the last couple years! He is now taller than me, and he's pretty proud of that. 

~Joseph, my older son, is preparing to begin pharmacy tech courses at our local technical college. I love when he pops into the kitchen or my room to say hello and have a conversation. He is so funny and smart and kind, and I love that he allows me to hug him still. 

I Am Standing Upon the Seashore

 MIL's funeral was lovely.

Husband and I stayed with FIL, who graciously prepared the master bedroom for us while he took the spare room. The bedroom still contained MIL's jewelry boxes, hair brushes, and other little things--just as if she was going to come back home any moment.

FIL had found a cassette tape on which MIL had recorded, some years ago, her early experiences as a nurse. Not only were the stories amusing (MIL was always a wonderful storyteller), but they allowed us to hear her voice. FIL played one of the stories for me. It was when MIL had first become a nurse as a young adult in the mid-1960s and was working in a men's ward in a British hospital. One night, one of the men stood up in his bed and started shouting and flailing his arms around. MIL quickly went over to try and calm him down and see what he needed. The man was very agitated and swung a fist so hard at her, backhanding her in the head, that he knocked her back several feet, where she hit the ground. Immediately, other male patients in the ward, who had awakened because of the tumult, rushed up and pinned the man down, yelling, "Don't you ever hit that nurse again!" 

The funeral was recorded and put onto YouTube. It would have been live-streamed, but the internet in the chapel stopped working. Fortunately, everything else went very well. All of the talks were so well done, and the whole thing was a joyful celebration of MIL's amazing life. Everyone who attended felt uplifted rather than sad and despairing.

After the funeral, FIL, Husband, and his brothers all accompanied the casket outside to the hearse before we went back inside and enjoyed a delicious luncheon prepared by the Relief Society. 

FIL was relieved when it was done. I think it had weighed very heavily on his mind during the previous week, and now it felt like there was some closure. He is grieving, and I'm very glad he's allowing himself to shed tears and talk about her. He takes care of the dogs and the cats, who make sure he gets up every morning to feed them. I told him of MIL's visit to me and the message she had for him, and it made him feel so comforted. He asked me to share it with their children at the viewing, and I also wrote it all out while it was still fresh in my mind. We talked about it more after the funeral, when we all got together for dinner.

It was very nice that we were able to spend quite a bit of time hanging out with Husband's brothers at Brad's house before Husband and I had to fly back home on Sunday evening. Matt and Dan, the two who were able to fly in from England, had arranged to stay with their father for a week after we left. This past Monday, FIL took MIL's ashes back to Wales to have them interred in the plot with her parents. FIL is now spending several weeks visiting his children and grand-children in England. 

Husband's oldest brother, Warren, and his sister, Tiffany, were not able to fly over, though Tiffany recorded a beautiful poem that Brad played during the funeral (see below), and which was the only point where I teared up. No one could get hold of Warren, though. Multiple of his brothers tried texting and phoning him during the private family viewing before the funeral, but he did not respond. He is still dealing with what is going on with his wife's (Julie's) body, which is still being held by the coroner as her death is being investigated as possible negligence, and with Julie's family. 

I Am Standing Upon the Seashore, by Henry Van Dyke

I am standing upon the seashore. A ship, at my side,

spreads her white sails to the moving breeze and starts

for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength.

I stand and watch her until, at length, she hangs like a speck

of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle

with each other.

Then, someone at my side says, "There, she is gone."

Gone where?

Gone from my sight. That is all. She is just as large in mast,

hull and spar as she was when she left my side.

And, she is just as able to bear her load of living freight to 

her destined port.

Her diminished size is in me -- not in her.

And, just at the moment when someone says, "There, she is gone,"

there are other eyes watching her coming, and other voices

ready to take up the glad shout, "Here she comes!"

And that is dying...

Goodbye For Now, Sweet MIL

My sweet mother-in-law passed away in the early morning of last Friday. 

I was at work when I got the text from Husband. I am amazed that he managed to get himself to work, but he did it and kept himself busy for the whole day before we both got home and had a chance to talk about it.

The funeral is Saturday, and Husband and I are flying out to Indiana to be with the family. Husband was asked to prepare the obituary and give the life sketch at the funeral, and I was asked to offer the invocation. 

I had a beautiful experience on Thursday evening, the night before MIL died. I got home from work and flipped on a Korean drama I have been slowly watching whenever I have a moment. After a few minutes, however, I felt like I should turn it off, so I did. I pulled out my book, instead, and started reading. Suddenly, a peaceful, calm feeling overcame me, and I knew my MIL was in the room with me. I couldn't see her or anything, but I felt her spirit. We had a conversation during which she told me how much love she has for me and then expressed her love for her son, my husband. I could also feel her love for our children and my grandchildren as well as for all of her other children and grandchildren. It wasn't a conversation in the sense that we shared words in an audible way, but there were telepathic words that were loaded with thoughts and feelings. Lastly, she let me feel her shining love for her husband, my FIL, and her gratitude to him for the life they have had together and for his loving care as she was ill. Finally, I knew that she had delivered the message she wanted me to have and to share, and the feeling of her presence faded. Her last words were, "We will all be together again soon enough," accompanied by a sense of eternity and joy.

At the time of her visit to me, MIL had been sleeping one hundred percent of the time for about a week. She had stopped eating and drinking, and we knew the end was near. She was still alive, but I have long held the theory that people with lingering illnesses don't necessarily have to stay in their bodies all the time as the body shuts down and/or the pain becomes unbearable. I feel like they are allowed to visit loved ones or places they have a special connection to before the final separation of spirit from body. There seems to be a space of time where spirits can connect to earthly things before they pass through the veil--with my friend Mark, it was as his funeral ended that I felt a door close behind him; with Chad, my former brother-in-law, it was before the funeral but right after I heard the news of his death, as if he was waiting for me to think about him so he could make me hear him and deliver a message to my sister from him. Once he had delivered his message, I felt like he went to be with his daughters, but he never visited me again.

After that door has closed, I sense that there must be a special reason (and heavenly permission) for them to visit again. Again, this is my own theory, not gospel truth. I don't believe all spirits have a peaceful or happy passing, but I know my MIL is a being of light and love and would want to be nowhere else but as near to her Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ and her parents as possible. I believe that God, in His infinite mercy and love for us, lets our spirits go where we are most comfortable as we await the final judgement, and some are not comfortable in His presence. MIL, on the other hand, would want nothing less than that glorious presence.

I kind of debated sharing that experience with Husband, wondering if he would question it or feel hurt that his mother visited me instead of him. I honestly think that it was the timing, for the most part. I was in a quiet and contemplative frame of mind, which is usually necessary in order to receive these types of spiritual messages (though I have received strong and insistent spiritual guidance in the heat of the moment when I have needed it). Husband, on the other hand, was in the whirlwind of getting students out the door and preparing his things to come home. Had I kept the TV show on, I doubt I would have noticed her presence because my mind would have been dulled and distracted. In my prior experiences of other loved ones visiting me, it has always been when I was quiet and meditative and spiritually open. 

I did end up sharing my experience with Husband, and he was grateful rather than envious. He knows I have had this happen before. The next morning, after he received news that his mother had passed away, he was able to share with his siblings and father some of the things I had told him. I know MIL wanted them to know with a surety that she is still herself, that she is happy beyond measure, and is in a beautiful, wonderful place with no pain. She is bathing in the love of God and our Savior.

We will be together again soon enough.

Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader?

As you know, Husband is a 5th grade teacher (9- and 10-year-olds). What you might not know is that he teaches in a Dual Language Immersion (DLI) school, which has been a major factor in who, how, and what he teaches--and it has posed some very frustrating problems.

In our DLI schools, students need to be enrolled in the dual-language classes by the beginning of 2nd grade (our schools have kindergarten 4- and 5-year-olds, 1st grade 5- and 6-year-olds, and 2nd grade 6- and 7-year-olds) or they cannot be enrolled. The DLI classes spend half their day in English instruction classes and half their day in the other language instruction with a fluent dual-language or native language speaker as a teacher. 

For the DLI kids, it's an awesome program. The students in DLI most often have attentive and proactive parents, so the students are generally better behaved, better educated, and expect more of themselves. The class sizes are small as well, with about 15-20 students per class. As the students age and move up in grade, some students move out of the area or drop out of DLI classes, which decreases the class size permanently because, after the beginning of 2nd grade, no new students can enter the DLI program. With small class sizes and generally brighter students, each student enjoys more individualized attention, and the teachers have a good experience and are easily able to manage and teach the classes. Parents with DLI students are very vocal about keeping the DLI programs in the schools.

For non-DLI kids, however, the program has led to some negative unintended consequences. Students who move in after the start of 2nd grade or who drop out of the DLI program are shunted to the regular classes. With all the growth in our area, regular classes have become huge--often with 30+ students and counting as more apartment complexes and single-family homes are built. Limited numbers of teachers in each grade also means that students with behavior issues or special needs can't be easily distributed across classes to make classroom management easier. Brighter students must try to learn in an environment that is increasingly disorderly and chaotic despite teachers' efforts, and students who struggle are at an even greater disadvantage. There is no remedy for this situation except to hire more teachers, but both district budgets for teacher salaries and the lack of physical space to accommodate more classes almost always prevents this. 

The result of all of this is that our burg's elementary schools are now offering a two-tiered education experience: one small group gets an excellent education and becomes fluent in another language; and the other, much larger, group suffers in all areas. Case in point: Husband's DLI class a couple years ago passed as proficient 60% or more of the students in all areas of standardized testing. Last year, his massive non-DLI class that he tried very hard to teach in the same way as the DLI kids passed as proficient only 19% at the most in standardized testing. You can imagine his frustration.

Knowing that they needed to change something, Husband suggested to his two fellow 5th grade non-DLI colleagues that they try a junior high/high school model approach in their grade, where students move to different classrooms for different subjects rather than stay in one classroom with one teacher all day. The three non-DLI 5th grade teachers each chose two specialty areas that they would teach. Husband chose to teach math and social studies. The other two teachers divided up science, language arts, writing, and reading between them. That way, each of them could concentrate and focus better at making lesson plans for two subjects rather than trying to create effective lesson plans in all subjects. Additionally, each of them would only have each class for one-third of the day rather than all day. 

Over the summer, Husband did hours and hours of research on his own time. His math teaching model was obviously not working for non-DLI students, so he honed in on a different approach--a pretty radical approach compared to what has become the norm in public schools. This new approach is based on the research of Peter Liljedahl in his book, Building Thinking Classrooms. The goal is to teach students how to think and problem solve rather than show them a formula, have them work through it and then do some homework.

Liljedahl's research in how to structure a classroom and how to teach students to problem solve set all your normal public school education experience on its head. Husband really liked Liljedahl's method and set up his classroom to reflect it.

First, he did away with a front and back of the classroom. Where students normally sit at desks and look to the front for teacher instruction, Husband made groups of three desks each surrounding a table in the center of the room from which students could collect the supplies they would need for each lesson. Around the perimeter, Husband attached vertical whiteboards and dry erase markers to the walls. 

Each day as the students come in, they are seated randomly in groups. They really only use the desks to drop their stuff as their groups are then assigned to a set of whiteboards. Husband then presents them with a problem, and the students have to work together to solve it. No one is allowed to go and sit at a desk. Each of the three participants of each group must participate in some way, whether writing on the board or making suggestions for the solution. The groups can look at other groups' whiteboards or ask other groups about their possible solutions. Husband patrols the room to help guide the students by either giving hints or asking questions to help the students move toward the solution. He never tells them directly if they are on the right path or if they have the correct answer; instead, he challenges them to prove to him that they have found the best solution by walking him through their thought processes.

One of the questions he posed is this: a farmer needs to build a fence as cheaply as possible around his garden in order to keep animals out. The fence must be three feet wider than the 14' by 11' garden to allow movement around the garden plot, and it must include a three-foot gate. The farmer can buy any combination of 10' fence panels, 2' panels, or 1' panels in order to achieve this (the prices of the panels were given to the students). 

The other day, Husband handed me one of the problems he had developed and wanted me to work through it to see if he had done it well enough to be understandable. The concept he is trying to teach is place value. Then he watched me intently while I worked through the solution, which was nerve-wracking because I am really not sure if I'm smarter than a 5th grader. Fortunately, I was able to come up with the correct solution. Then he handed me an extension to the problem, and, again, I managed to come up with the correct solution. I am inordinately pleased by this. I still feel a little rush of pleasure when I think about how I was able to solve it--and I'm in my 50s. I have never been good at math. Imagine how great a 5th grader will feel when they work with their group members to figure it out! Imagine those kids now feeling like maybe they're smart enough to do math, which, for many, is a breaking point.

The Jewelry Heist

A jewelry store had a break-in and lost some inventory. They lost between $1 million and $2 million dollars' worth of stones.

1. They lost twice as many emeralds as they did cubic zirconias.

2. They lost the same number of rubies as they did amethyst stones, and the combined amount adds up to make a double-digit number.

3. For one type of stone, only one was stolen.

4. The number of stolen agates plus the number of stolen diamonds is equal to 6, but more agates were stolen than diamonds.

5. When the total dollars lost was calculated, the last three digits added up to make 12, and the first three digits added up to make 8. 

6. Each stone type had fewer than 7 stones stolen.

7. The lowest-value stone had three times the number stolen than the highest-value stone.

Values:

Cubic Zirconias: $1 each

Agates: $10 each

Amethysts: $100 each

Emeralds: $1000 each

Rubies: $10,000 each

Diamonds: $100,000 each

Pink diamonds: $1,000,000 each

Find out how many of each stone was stolen. What value does each stone category have? What is the total value? 

(I put the answer at the bottom of this post. Don't peek until you work through this! If I can do it, you can do it.)

Once you have solved that, here's the extension:

When the jewels were found, the pink diamond had been cut in half, and its value was now only half as much as originally. Half of the emeralds were still missing, and all the rubies had vanished. Of the remaining jewels, each had lost 1 of their original number.

How many of each stone is left? What value does each stone category now have? What is the total value? 

I am very proud of Husband. School started a couple weeks ago, and he has been helping the students become familiar and comfortable with this method of problem solving and thinking. This means he is on his feet walking around to help student groups all day, but he feels it is worth it.

My oldest grandson, Tyler, is a new kindergartner. He loves school. Husband takes him in the morning, and Siân drives the younger two boys to pick him up in the afternoon. Because of parent demand, the school had to create four all-day kindergartens, and Siân was a little worried about that at first, but Tyler seems to be thriving.

Answers:

The Jewelry Heist. Number of stolen stones: 3 cubic zirconias, 4 agates, 5 amethysts, 6 emeralds, 5 rubies, 2 diamonds, and 1 pink diamond were stolen. The value of each stolen stone category: $3 cubic zirconias; $40 agates; $500 amethysts; $6000 emeralds; $50,000 rubies; $200,000 diamonds; $1,000,000 pink diamonds. Total value: $1,256,543.

Extension: Number of stones left: 2 cubic zirconias; 3 agates; 4 amethysts; 1 diamond; 0 rubies; 3 emeralds; and 0 pink diamonds. Value of each stone category: $500,000 pink diamonds; $3000 emeralds; $0 rubies; $100,000 diamonds; $400 amethysts; $30 agates; and $2 cubic zirconias. Total value: $603,432

It's Only Cute When the Baby Is Chubby

I've been on this eating roller coaster enough times to know what's up: when I eat very few carbs, I feel good. When I eat sugars and junk, I feel bad. 

That seems pretty obvious, right? Well, I constantly learn the hard way, but only because when I'm the one in charge of cooking for everyone, it's a lot easier to get lazy or distracted or busy and make an excuse for eating what I know does not work for me but is tasty. 

In the run-up to Elannah's wedding, I fell off the wagon again. When I eat carby foods, I crave carbs and don't feel satiated, and unless I'm completely dedicated and have steel-hard self will, I sink further and further into the morass of delicious decadence. That will be me in Dante's third circle of Hell unless I sort myself out. Say hi on your tour of the inferno! 

Fortunately, I have noted the major changes to my mental and physical health, and this knowledge helps me get back to making better choices. In a nutshell, sugar and refined carbs almost immediately put me into a state of depressed ennui and lethargy. On the other hand, eating low-carb or dirty keto puts me into a state of mental agility, optimism, and better physical stamina. If only it was easy to always do the right thing.

In other news, school is starting. Summer is over. For the faculty introduction portion of our welcome-back assembly, Kim has requested that we each send him several pictures of interesting things we did this summer along with our favorite Taylor Swift song as a walk-up song. It's a joke, obviously, except for Josh, who might just be a real Swifty. I have no idea which song to pick or how to send photos of myself that do not exist.

A few pictures:

This little boy is almost three months old already! He is also a chatterbox, which is even more adorable. What I love is how many kisses can fit on those acres of chubby little cheeks.

Pardon the unsightly boxes still on the floor, but this corner of my bedroom used to be a real mess with all my crafting stuff. All of that stuff has since been moved to my new craft room, which used to be Elannah's bedroom, and Husband has installed a slouchy, dark blue leather club chair in the new reading corner. It looks moodier and has more ambience in person, of course, especially when the curtains are drawn at night. 

Gary (left) recently turned 16, so we took him, his long-time friend Molly (in the middle), and his buddy from up the street, JJ (on the right), to an arcade and then lunch in The Big City. Gary was making a funny face here and will be devastated if he ever finds out I posted this photo in my blog. He also needs a haircut, the hippy. 

I must go. I've got a full evening of photoshopping myself into photos of interesting summer activities ahead of me. Also listening to the full anthology of Taylor Swift's songs. Pray for me.

A Wedding and a Funeral

 It's been a wild and crazy ride.

The happy news is that Elannah's and Dalton's wedding went perfectly. The sealing (marriage for time and all eternity) at the temple was in the late morning, and that ordinance was absolutely lovely. I really enjoyed that part. It was everything else that was stressful: decorating the reception venue, worrying that I was going to run out of food before the reception even officially started, and then cleaning up at the end of the night when all I wanted to do was soak my aching feet before crawling into bed. In the end, however, we all survived and the happy new couple were able to embark on a honeymoon cruise. I have now married off all four of my daughters and will happily allow my sons' future brides to take the reins on their own wedding plans.

Elannah and Dalton at the Capitol building for pre-wedding bridal photos. 

They are a very compatible couple. Elannah picked a great guy. Dalton chose the perfect girl for him.

 Sophia, another of my very talented daughters, made the bouquet.

Isn't my girl so pretty? The sleeves that Sophia made turned out so well, and Elannah felt beautiful in her beautiful dress. Her photo session also entertained some groups of tourists from various countries who were visiting the Utah State Capitol that day.

Elannah wore my MIL's blue earrings that she was gifted during our visit to MIL and FIL in May. Because these photos were taken before the wedding, Elannah was able to send them to MIL and FIL while MIL was still in good enough health to appreciate them.

Fortunately, a woman in our ward who used to be a large events planner graciously offered the free use of any of her large collection of venue decor. She also brought our selections to the venue and instructed the groomsmen we offered up as minions in how to set it all up. That evening, after the reception was over, she came back and helped us pack everything back into the correct tote boxes. She saved us probably hundreds of dollars, and the decor was beautiful. I don't have the wedding photos back yet, but I will share some of them when I get them.

In less joyous news, my brother-in-law's wife tragically passed away after a brief illness. 

I've written about Husband's oldest brother, Warren, before. He's a character, to say the least. He and his wife, while legally married, had not been living as man and wife for years, though they shared a house because neither of them could afford to live alone. They have two sons, both of whom are now adults. The younger of the two boys lived with Warren and Julie.

I only met Julie, Warren's wife, two times. The first time was back in 1995 when Husband and I were living in Wales with my MIL and FIL for the summer. Julie, Warren's then-fianceé, who had attended one of the few Welsh language-only schools in western Wales, had such a strong Welsh accent that it took me about an hour after meeting her before I could finally understand her, though she was speaking English. When my brain finally caught up to how she was pronouncing her vowels, I was able to have a much better conversation with her. She was quiet and unassuming but had a good sense of humor and seemed very kind. 

The last time I saw Julie was this past January when Husband's family met up in England. 

Julie is the short blond in the front row. Warren is behind his mother (MIL wearing a blue coat and cap), and Warren's and Julie's two boys are behind Julie to her right. From left to right: Husband, Toby (Matt's son), Brad, Matt, Daniel, Ronan, Corrie, Julie, MIL, Warren, and FIL. Marlborough High Street, England, 2023. 

 

Julie was again very quiet and unassuming, and we didn't get much of a chance to chat that day as we all ended up splitting into smaller groups to visit the various shops on the high street in Marlborough. I was impressed with Ronan, however, who, seeing that his mother had worn too thin of a coat to block the cold and blustery wind, immediately removed his own coat and insisted his mother put it on. 

Around the beginning of June, Julie ended up with a very serious and exceedingly painful blood clot in her thigh. She had also recently been to the doctor for a foot injury (dry gangrene), which was exacerbated by her mostly untreated diabetes. Over the course of the next few weeks, Julie's health deteriorated rapidly.  The medical system completely failed her, though Warren tried very hard to get her into a doctor, to be admitted to a hospital, and to get necessary tests done. For weeks, hospitals kept sending her home, telling her to get scans and take pain medications, and clinics kept canceling appointments for scans and tests due to lack of staffing. She got more and more ill, to the point that she could not walk, could not eat, and could not move. She was finally admitted to a hospital only after Warren's repeated and more adamant demands for a nursing visit revealed that her foot wound had progressed to possible sepsis and she was nearly at death's door because of the blood clot.

After Julie was finally given a bed at the hospital, Warren talked to her on the phone once before he had to go to his twelve-hour night shift. Julie told him she was being given IV antibiotics for the infection and fluids for the malnutrition and dehydration. When he called again the next day, after his shift, she didn't answer. He called a couple more times with no response before calling the hospital. After being shunted to three different departments as the medical staff tried to find where Julie was, a nurse finally spoke to him.

"Julie is in the ICU and has not yet regained consciousness after the surgery," she told Warren.

"What surgery?" asked Warren, surprised and alarmed.

"...Who are you?" responded the nurse.

After Warren had proven he was Julie's husband, the nurse apologized that he had not been informed that Julie had been taken in for emergency surgery to have her leg amputated. They had it on record that someone had called him, though no one had. The nurse also informed Warren that Julie's heart, greatly weakened from the illness and weight loss, had stopped during the surgery, though the doctor had managed to get it started again.

Julie remained unconscious, and Warren, even more alarmed, asked the stake president to come and give her a blessing because Warren's faith has taken a major hit due to MIL's illness with cancer. During the blessing, the stake president said that Julie was between worlds and had been given the choice to either come back to mortality, where she would not only endure having to navigate with one leg but would have vascular disease for the rest of her life, or to stay in heaven, where her faith had saved her and her mansion had been prepared. Either way, she had been assured that her family would be loved and supported. She obviously chose to remain in the beautiful world of spirits because another heart attack a day or two later ended her life on this earth for good. She never regained consciousness.

I can't guarantee that Julie would have survived if she had access to the American medical system, flawed as our system is, but I'm pretty sure she would have. She might even have kept her leg. For all its faults, a private medical system has distinct advantages over socialized healthcare. I won't politicize this tragedy any more than to say that knowing what I know about this situation (and I have spared you all the minute details), it is my strong opinion that socialized healthcare killed Julie. It was a series of mistakes and bunglings inherent to that system that added up to an unnecessary death.

Equally sad is that my MIL does not have long with us, either. She is sleeping most of the time, and the amount of pain medications she has to take does not allow her to be fully lucid for much of the time that she is awake. A day or two ago, she had to go to the ER because her catheter had an issue. They solved the catheter issue and then put her in a rehabilitation center for a few days mainly to give FIL some time to rest. I don't know if MIL has stopped eating or drinking, but I think that is probably the next and final stage. 

It is a blessing to know that Julie is happy in the Spirit World even if her sons are grieving the loss of their mother. They will be with her again. It is a blessing to know that MIL will also be welcomed home with joy and love. As I watch Elannah and Dalton begin their new lives as a new family, I am so grateful that they they are sealed together forever. Death is part of life, but life can be joyful, too. 

To Sleep, Perchance to Dream

 To continue the theme of my children finding answers to puzzling health issues, I will share a couple more:

Gabrielle spent a couple years suffering from sudden onset of terrible gastric distress and pain, debilitating fatigue, and constant nausea. After multiple visits to various specialists, she was finally diagnosed with severe gluten intolerance (pretty much at celiac disease levels), which had caused several big ulcers in her stomach and ulcerated spots in her intestines. Once she stopped eating gluten for several months, the ulcers and intestines healed, the fatigue lifted dramatically, and she is able to eat without vomiting. A low-dose anti-anxiety pill was the final piece of the puzzle to quiet her busy mind. Six months or so later, she sleeps well, eats very strictly gluten-free (she can't handle even a little gluten), and is able to deal with her high-demand job with aplomb. 

Gabrielle's husband, Raine, has also just found some relief after a couple years of mysterious and debilitating pain. I think he racked up visits to no fewer than eighteen medical specialists before he was finally diagnosed by a holistic chiropractor. 

Raine was suffering from agonizing stabbing pain in his intestines as well as vertigo, dizziness, and constant nausea. I do not know how his hiatal hernia was missed by the gastroenterologist (he had an endoscopy, for goodness' sake!), but the chiropractor has been manipulating his stomach and intestinal area in such a way that Raine has found immense relief from pain and is now able to eat normally and without agonizing and constant pain. Turns out the vertigo, dizziness, and some of the nausea were from an entirely different cause: military neck, where the neck vertebrae are straight when they should be curved. The other doctors were probably trying to find a cause that answered all of the symptoms together, so maybe that is why they were stymied and kept bouncing him from specialist to specialist. Fortunately, the chiropractor is the perfect person to treat his neck, as well, and Raine has been able to eat, work out, and put in more hours at work without pain, vertigo and dizziness, and vomiting. 

He's feeling so much better, in fact, that he has accepted an Army deployment to Africa for ten months. But more about that later....

For myself, I have found an excellent answer for my sleep issues: melatonin. I had tried melatonin pills in the past, but they either did nothing or made me feel so groggy in the mornings that I couldn't function well. Plus, I found it difficult to time the taking of melatonin pills for best effect, so I gave up on them thinking that they didn't work for me. 

Earlier this year, however, Husband and I tried 3mg melatonin gummies, and they work so well that I get a solid six-and-a-half to seven-and-a-half hours of uninterrupted sleep every night and wake up feeling refreshed. I spent decades feeling like I could barely function because of poor sleep, so this development is thrilling! Turns out that seven-and-a-half hours of sleep is perfect for me. Husband needs eight or nine hours of sleep a night to feel good. I take 6mg, Husband takes 3mg, and we're both happy. 

Walmart sells a very decent brand of gummy melatonin called Olly Sleep. Olly Sleep gummies contain 3mg melatonin as well as L-Theanine, an amino acid that reduces stress and induces relaxation. Also very good (but no longer available at my Walmart) are VitaFusion sugar-free 3mg melatonin gummies. Both are very affordable.

I thoroughly chew two gummies about thirty minutes before I want to go to bed, and I never have problems falling asleep within moments of my head hitting the pillow. Nor do I have problems waking up in the mornings. I occasionally get some vivid dreams, which is a common side effect of taking melatonin, but they are merely interesting or weird dreams and never nightmares (I can't remember the last time I had a nightmare, actually). 

If my experience with melatonin gummies can help anyone else get some needed sleep, I am glad I shared. The older you get, the less melatonin you produce, so those of us getting close to being able to claim senior citizen discounts need all the help we can get.

 

Fractured Pelvic Bone

 Turns out Siân had a pelvic fracture that was causing her all that agonizing pain and nausea!

After the ER docs shrugged their shoulders when it turned out Siân didn't have an infection, her OB/GYN also checked for infection. When none was apparent, she said, "Well, I'm going to send you to a physical therapist that specializes in post-partum womb healing physical therapy." Fortunately, Siân kept that appointment because the PT asked a ton of questions--questions the doctor(s) should have been asking but somehow failed to do--and conducted a thorough examination of her pelvic area. Finally, she said, "I can't prove it without an x-ray, but I can almost one hundred percent guarantee that you have a fracture in your pelvic bone."

Siân literally fractured her pelvic bone giving birth to Christopher, whose head size was in the 99th percentile. She will obviously have to hold this over his (big) head for the rest of his life.

While Siân is still in pain, it is just so nice to know what is going on and to have a plan for it. The PT explained that the muscles around Siân's fracture were knotting in order to protect the fracture and also in response to Siân's stress, increasing the pain. Turns out Siân also holds her breath when she is stressed, which also increases the pain. Siân is attending four weekly sessions with the PT in order to reduce the muscle knotting and to do exercises that help relax and heal the pelvic area. There isn't anything else you can do for a fractured pelvis like this except take it easy in the walking/running department and not lift anything really heavy. Time will heal it, so another couple months should see Siân mostly back to normal. I hope. That poor girl. She's had a rough couple of years. I am, however, so grateful for the three adorable and amazing grandsons she has given us. 

I'm Coming For You, Yo-Yo Ma!

 I've got some pictures this time. I think that always makes things more interesting.

Before getting into the pictures, though, I have to tell you a story: the ward music director came up to me last Sunday and said, "I know you play the cello. I was wondering if you would be able to do a musical number?"

I started thinking about how many months I would need to feel ready for a cello solo, having not actually played my cello in...well, it's been a long time. Would I feel comfortable in six months? Seven? Yeah, I could get something ready in that time if I pushed myself.

"I want something different than piano solos and voice. I need something in two weeks, something for Pioneer Day," she went on.

I choked. My finger callouses have long since vanished. I don't have the hand or arm strength needed to press the strings or draw the bow for very long. Playing the cello is physical. Strength is needed. Yet I am soft and doughy. 

What did I do? I accepted the challenge, and I've been practicing every day since. My left hand fingertips are on fire as I go through the blistering stage of rebuilding callouses (I nearly shrieked today when I pressed my pinky finger into the string because the open blister stung so badly). I've been focusing on technique, but I have to stop every minute or two to shake out my left hand or my right arm. I am going to sound absolutely awful in two weeks, but I accepted the challenge because it forced me to achieve a goal I had for myself for this summer, which was to pull out my cello and get back into playing shape. Maybe I can beg the music director to let me redeem myself with another musical number in a year or so when I've improved enough not to be embarrassed. 

Funnily enough, she then asked me to also sing in a trio a few weeks after my cello solo. I mean, when you don't have tons of instrumentalists in the congregation, voice and piano are still the most viable options, and people love to hear them. Unfortunately, my voice is not doing well, so we'll see if my alto part in the trio is low enough for me to get through. Once I hit C above Middle C, I'm squawking uncontrollably. I still haven't seen the doctor about that abrupt change to my voice.

Anyway, pictures.

Elannah and I went thrift shopping for her wedding dress. We're not cheap, but why not try to find a perfectly good dress for a very good price when you will only wear that dress once in your life? 

Fortune favored us and we found this dress--which seemed perfectly tailored for her--for $80 (originally $500, according to the sales tag left hanging on the sash).

You can't really see it in these pictures, but there is subtle lace detailing on parts of the bodice. The skirt is covered with two layers of tulle, and the dress has a little train. Elannah wanted a very simple design, and though it didn't look good on the hanger, it looked so elegant on her when she tried it on that I told her I was going to buy it as a backup dress even if she ended up finding something else. You don't leave this dress behind just so you can go back and find someone else has snatched it up. 

In the end, my other daughter, Sophia, who has been taking sewing/tailoring classes, was able to match the bodice fabric and replace the sleeves, which were uncomfortably tight and not in the style Elannah liked. She replaced the original sleeves with the butterfly sleeves Elannah really wanted. Sophia also made a wider sash and added a bow at the back. While I absolutely adored the quiet sophistication of the original, I'm very happy Elannah has a dress she loves and feels beautiful in. I will post some wedding photos in August so you can see the finished product on this very beautiful bride-to-be. 

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My grandchildren are so wonderful. I'm around them a lot, and I've been spending every morning helping Siân as she gets breakfast and feeds them. They're exhausting, but I love them so much! Siân still has no answers as to why she is suffering so much pain and nausea so long after giving birth (neither the hospital nor the OB/GYN could find any infections, which might have explained things). Her OB referred her to a physical therapist for pelvic therapy. Her first appointment is today, so we'll see if any benefit comes from it.

Above is the newest boy, six-week-old Christopher. This photo of him is from when he was really new, and he's lost a lot of that really newborn look now. While Siân is making breakfast for Nicholas and Tyler in the mornings, I hold Christopher. I take him out back and sit on the patio or the deck so he can see the sun shining through the red sun shade, which he finds fascinating. After Siân gets breakfast made for the older boys, she takes Christopher to feed him his bottle and I sit at the dining table and help Nicholas and Tyler. The older boys eat and then play for a few hours before Siân takes them downstairs to their room in the hopes that Nicholas will take his nap. Sometimes he does.

Sixteen-month-old Nicholas is 100% big personality. He is the Energizer bunny. He is a man on a mission to play at all times, and he already has a very well developed sense of humor and mischief. Oh, I love this kid! He is speaking in two- and three-word sentences, and he's finally figured out how to say his name well enough for us to understand him. "Nit-o-las 'raj! (Nicholas garage)" he will insist when he hears Husband working on something in his garage workshop, pointing at his chest with his pudgy little finger. Other times, he demands that his Uncle Gary sing Hot Cross Buns with him. Otherwise, he's constantly on the move between his toy box, the kitchen cupboards, the dog's water bowl (when I forget to put it safely up on the counter), and the collection of everyone's shoes by the front door. 

Tyler is heading to kindergarten this fall, and he is very excited to make new friends. He will talk to anyone and everyone. Recently, when we took the Tyler and Nicholas to the local art fair, we let the kids play on the playground, and when we turned around, Tyler plopped himself down next to a random adult and just started chatting. Fortunately, the adult turned out to be my co-worker's wife, who is also an old high school classmate of Siân's, so Tyler was perfectly safe, but yikes! I'm very happy that he has never had the need to distrust adults or children, but we're going to have to keep an eye on him and teach him a little stranger danger.

Siân and Nathan just bought a bunk bed, and Tyler is exceedingly proud to have the top bunk (and also very happy that Nicholas has not yet figured out how to climb the ladder). He's such a sweet, smart kid. I love when he just wanders over to me and sits himself on my lap or snuggles up next to me on the couch. He generally doesn't have a lot of time for cuddling, so I don't take it for granted when he chooses to snuggle.

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Lastly, here is a picture of a finished embroidery project. It's very amateur because I was just trying out different types of stitches, but I like the colors. I copied a design from an adult coloring book, and since it gave Indian vibes, I used bright colors and no shading. For my next project, I am going to try some subtle shading in a floral motif or something. I love crewel work and needlepoint, as well, so those are on my list.

That's all for now. Thanks for joining me for a bit today!

News Pileup

 Sometimes I just wait for a couple months so that the news piles up. That way, you are far less likely to be subjected to my rambling thoughts on whatever pops into my mind.

School came to a successful end as far as my job was concerned. All the graduation ceremonies and the printing of diplomas are over and done with, and I've since been enjoying very limited work hours since.

Far more importantly, Siân gave birth to my third grandson, Christopher, who is perfect and beautiful and looks just like a miniature copy of his oldest brother, Tyler. At almost six weeks, his goals are to stay awake and very alert as long as he can between naps while also strengthening his neck muscles. His smiling and cooing skills have suddenly blossomed, which I find delightful. He is a content, sweet baby who is obviously just as smart and clever as his older brothers. 

Siân, on the other hand, has suffered. She had some bad hemorrhaging during and after the birth (her first natural birth after two C-sections), and that blood loss weakened her quite a bit. Furthermore, she is still in a great deal of pain at all times, enough so that she can barely walk more than to make a very short shopping trip--when she gets out at all--and she needs pain medication almost all the time. A couple days ago, on Sunday afternoon, I insisted on taking her to the emergency room because the symptoms she was describing to me sounded very alarmingly like a brewing infection--and catching something like that early is crucial! Six hours, a few blood draws, a urine sample, and CT scan later, the doc came in and told her that they did not see any infection and discharged her. I asked him if there was any reason that he could think of that would be causing her to have so much pain and nausea when she should be well healed from the delivery, and he just shook his head and told her to follow up with her OB/GYN. Of course, the OB is booked out into August, so Siân just has to wait until her regular follow-up appointment in July. 

Siân's husband, Nathan, has four months of parental leave, so he and Siân have been able to help each other take care of the three boys and spell each other for sleeping and naps. They're both always exhausted, of course, so I help out in the mornings with getting the older boys breakfast and then holding Christopher while Siân prepares bottles for the day and eats something herself (when she isn't too nauseated to eat). After breakfast, Husband and I sometimes watch all three boys when we can convince Siân to go take a nap. If not, we play with the older boys while Siân feeds Christopher. Later in the morning, when Nicholas, the 14-month-old, starts getting droopy, Siân takes all of them downstairs to their rooms so Nicholas can have a nap and so that she can wake up Nathan, who takes most of the night shift with Christopher and sleeps in the mornings. Nathan has the fortunate skill of being able to sleep through anything, so even when the boys are in the room, he can still snooze away.

I so love my grandsons. I am so grateful that I have a bond with them and can see them every day. To hear Tyler's and Nicholas's excited cries of "Nanna! Nanna!" as they climb up the stairs to the main floor fills my heart with joy. Nicholas and I especially have a strong bond because I spend a lot of time following him around to keep him from harming himself (he's into everything!), but Nicholas absolutely adores his Grampy, whom he calls "Granky." Granky is the topic of conversation at all times: where he is, what he's doing, and when he will show up to play with Nicholas. Nicholas's other favorite topic of conversation is the Beep. "Beep" refers to any electronic appliance, as most of them make some sort of beeping sound or other. Nicholas's favorite Beep to discuss is Granky's huge massage chair, which is both fascinating and frightening. He is also partial to the air fryer, which has a very satisfying beep. 

 Right after school ended, Husband and I and the boys (my sons, Joseph and Gary) drove out to Indiana to see Husband's mother and father, my MIL and FIL. Gabrielle, Sophia and her husband Matt, and Elannah flew out and joined us the evening we arrived in Indy, and we all stayed together in an AirBNB for a few days. We were able to visit with the two of Husband's brothers who live there as well as MIL and FIL. My kids had never met Husband's youngest brother and his wife and their two adorable little girls, and we had a very good time with both of their uncles' families. 

MIL, unfortunately, is sinking fast. We were able to visit her and FIL several times during our stay, and they gave us a packet of photos they had sorted out of Husband as a child and photos they had of our family. MIL spent a great deal of time going through her jewelry with my daughters. They were each encouraged to take what they liked (none of it is precious except for the memories the pieces will invoke, and that helped my girls feel better about taking Nanna's jewelry), and it was a sweet hour, though tears were shed. 

This last Sunday, the day I took Siân to the ER, MIL said in their weekly family Zoom call that she didn't think she would last out this week. She is ticking all the boxes for end-of-life events. I haven't heard any news since then, but I'm sure she is suffering even more now than she was on Sunday. I am grateful we had the chance for Husband and I and all but one of our children (who had just had a baby) to see her so recently. I'm honestly not worried about what will happen to her after death, as I know she will go to a glorious and beautiful place to be reunited with her beloved parents and her Savior. I am much more worried about FIL. His heart is going to break into a thousand pieces, and his very manly British upbringing doesn't allow him to show or express much emotion. It's going to be very, very rough for him.

In happier news, Husband has been cultivating some new hobbies. He's been working with resin and wood and is currently doing some experiments making keychains in order to get more familiar with the properties of the resin. I spend a lot of time with my grandsons, and when they are downstairs, I'm doing my own experiments with Jacobian crewel work

I got myself back onto a low-carb diet, and I've lost ten pounds in about twelve days without being hungry, so that is going well. I'm not congratulating myself yet, as I keep losing the same ten pounds over and over over when I fall off the low-carb wagon and eat delicious carby things. I'll be more impressed when I've lost enough weight for it to be noticeable. Meanwhile, the good people of YouTube who devote themselves to creating keto recipes have been a huge help in keeping me motivated. I mainly just take regular recipes and convert them into low-carb or keto recipes, but some of these people are brilliant and have invented recipes for amazing breads and pastas. 

Last night, I made sushi bake at Husband's request. I did not, however, want all the carbs from the rice, so I made cauliflower rice and seasoned it as I would the sushi rice. After putting the crab topping on the cauliflower sushi "rice," I couldn't tell the difference. It was delicious! And because it was so filling, I couldn't eat more than one serving. I also eat a ton of sardines, mostly the kind in mustard sauce. Sardines are awesome.

Wedding plans for Elannah are chugging along. We found a beautiful, perfectly fitted dress at a thrift store for $80. Elannah didn't like the sleeves, so Sophia, who has been taking sewing/tailoring classes, is replacing the fitted sleeves with the butterfly sleeves Elannah wanted. A neighbor who used to be a large events planner has offered to let Elannah use any of the huge collection of classy party decor she has, so decorating the venue will be pretty easy. I'm booking a photographer, and we will start sorting out the food in a couple weeks. Invitations have been ordered and will go out to family and friends as soon as they arrive. I have GOT to remember to post about this on Facebook. I don't think about FB, I don't go on FB, I don't have it on my phone, so I never think about it, but Elannah asked me to share it so that I can start gathering addresses from friends who want an invitation.

I've got to go. My choir has been asked to sing the national anthem at this year's Miss [Our City] Pageant, and call is at 6pm. My voice has been having a really rough time for the last few months (a story I have not told you yet), so I'm not sure how much I will contribute, but I will do my best not to squawk. 

Opening the Windows of Heaven

 I was struck by a realization the other day. You might already have thought of this and I'm just late to the game, but it was a realization that has embedded itself in my heart and mind. I find it very comforting and uplifting.

I have been reading in the New Testament about Jesus's words and actions, including feeding multitudes with only small amounts of food. In a way we cannot understand, Christ was able to multiply small amounts of food in order to adequately feed thousands of people and still have his disciples pick up baskets and baskets of uneaten food. This is a miracle. 

I was talking to a friend the other day, and we somehow got on a related topic. I recalled a story I had once read in which an early Mormon man felt he was above such things as paying tithing or felt that the Church did not use tithing funds the way he felt they should be used. This man was telling a prophet or apostle (I can't remember the names of the people involved) that the way he paid his tithing to the Lord was by reserving a certain amount of his income for charitable works and then choosing to whom he would give his money. The person he was talking to admonished him for thinking he could circumvent the law of tithing as laid out in both ancient and modern revelation. 

In the Old Testament (including in Malachi 3:10), the Lord emphasized the importance of returning ten percent of all He blesses us with back to the Lord, and He made it a commandment. It is such an important commandment that He outlined the blessings of paying tithes and offerings and the consequences of not paying tithes and offerings. The blessings are miraculous. The consequences are dire--not because He is a vengeful god but because a nation that does not honor God will naturally fall, and in not nice ways (look where we are now!). 

My sudden thought was that this man who decided to take tithing into his own hands was overlooking the miracle of the loaves and fishes. Christ took a small, simple offering of a little bread and fish and was able to feed thousands. He can also take our small, simple offerings of tithes and offerings and multiply the effects to bless millions. The man who arrogantly thought he could improve on the Lord's plan for paying tithes into the storehouses by making his own charitable donations was doing a good thing, yes, but he could only bless a small number of people with that money. Christ can take our tithe offerings and multiply the effects in miraculous ways--far beyond our human capacity and knowledge. If we refuse to voluntarily give back to the Lord only a small portion of all that He has blessed us with, we deny not only His authority but His ability to work miracles. We are, essentially, refusing to feed the multitudes. Unlike the young boy who willingly offered up his little lunch of five loaves and two fishes to the apostles so that five thousand people could eat and be sustained (and for which I am sure he was blessed for the rest of his life, both spiritually and physically), we are arrogantly thinking we can do better than God. Charity borne of love and humility is always a good thing, but wouldn't you also hope that your donation of time and money could be made miraculous through the power of Christ? 

Until I opened my mouth, I had never thought of tithing quite in that light. I have willingly and happily paid ten percent of my income as tithing since I was old enough to earn any money, and the first thing Husband and I do when we get paid is donate our tithing and fast offerings. We have seem miracles in our lives as a consequence, but maybe someday we will be allowed to know how Christ multiplied our tiny tithe so that it could bless the lives of many more. It's not about self-aggrandizement, it's about glorying in the mercy and power of the almighty God, whom we love and serve. 

I am grateful for the lesson I was given. I am always grateful that my Heavenly Father is willing to teach me because it shows me that He sees me. Lately, I have needed to know I am seen, and this moment was a miracle in my own life. 

No Strings Attached

 Yesterday, as I was walking through the parking lot toward the grocery store, a woman, who was loading groceries into her car, called out to me.

"Ma'am! Ma'am! Are you going shopping?"

I thought that was pretty obvious, but I stopped and said yes.

"I have a gift card that expires today. I can't use it. Do you want it? It has $50 on it."

She seemed perfectly normal, so I accepted it from her with gratitude. Who wouldn't? 

Once I was in the store, however, I stopped to check the card balance based on the ancient Arab proverb, "Trust in God, but tie up your camel." I was not about to plop an extra $50 worth of groceries into my cart merely on the say-so of a stranger from the parking lot, however kind and sincere she appeared to be. I'm glad I did because the actual balance on the card was only $8.98. That was still almost $9 worth of free groceries! I got what I needed, emptied the gift card, and paid the difference. 

No, I don't know the answers to any of the questions you have about the woman in the parking lot. I wish I did. It's not every day that strangers hand me free money, so I wasn't prepared with interrogation points. Maybe she handed me the wrong card. Maybe she forgot that she had already used most of the $50 on the one card she had. I have no idea. I wasn't even disappointed that the balance was only $9 because that was $9 of cash I didn't have before. I was just pleasantly surprised that someone handed me a gift card out of what seemed to be an abundance of generosity. I usually have only pleasant interactions with strangers, and this was not an exception. 

Born (and Fed) in the U.S.A

Siân is in her third trimester of pregnancy. She feels like a whale and she is also nauseated a lot--still! I was the same: I was sick for the whole nine months during every one of my six pregnancies. After a couple of months into the first pregnancy (with Siân), I had developed a system of knowing when to vomit in the morning in order to reduce the overall nausea I felt throughout the rest of the day, and I did this with every pregnancy thereafter: after I woke up each morning, I waited until the time was right, quickly slugged down a large glass of cool water, and then activated my vomiting muscles (while I don't usually brag about this particular talent of being able to isolate the vomiting muscles, I feel it should be mentioned, if only once). When done quickly and before I ate anything for the day, the water simply came back up without any additional...seasoning...and I had the comfort of not heaving on an empty stomach. 

I know. TMI. But whose blog are you reading?

Siân hasn't taken the daily morning vomit path. Instead, she feeds her cravings in order to reduce the nausea. Sometimes, only root beer will dampen the urge to spew; sometimes it's orange juice; sometimes it's Twizzlers. 

Anyway, that was the long way around to saying that I do most of the cooking when it comes to the evening meal because Siân doesn't have the stomach for it, nor the energy. Siân is very grateful, and it has forced me to cook way more than I had been doing because I now have more people to feed on a daily basis. Before, when Joseph, Gary, and Elannah were mostly fending for themselves and it was often only Husband and I hungry for dinner, it was a little too easy to just get takeout. Cooking for the family is definitely an improvement for our bank account and our health.

My kids grew up eating a wide variety of dishes because that was my way of traveling without getting on a plane. Searching up new recipes and learning the cooking traditions of other cultures was also a way to get myself excited to cook meal after meal. I think I tried a two-week meal rotation once, but it only lasted for the first two weeks because I couldn't fathom eating those fourteen meals over and over and over. My palate demands variety.

While my kids are all right with trying new foods and have slightly more enlightened palates than their peers, I think the girls's spouses (and one soon-to-be spouse) are quietly worried about what I'm going to be making when they're invited to dinner. To a man, they all grew up eating pretty typical American fare, so when they're confronted with some exotic noodle dish like pad thai or baked potatoes with tuna-mayonnaise and baked beans as toppings (so English!) or an Indian curry, they are cautious. Fortunately, they fear offending me more than they fear trying something new (not that I would be offended, because I truly love each of them more than I require accolades for my cooking), so they'll gamely try anything once before they go back home and eat what they really like. They've even surprised themselves by really enjoying some of the things I've made (sushi bake, for instance, has become a real hit!). 

Siân's husband, Nathan, also grew up eating typical American dishes, so living with us and having me cook whatever strikes my fancy--and it's not usually what he's accustomed to--has been a little hard on him. He's a lovely young man, and he's not horribly picky, but I think that every evening for him is a bit of a worry as he wonders what he'll be confronted with this time. Not every recipe I try is a winner in my books, either, which makes it doubly tough for Nathan. But he neither complains nor make demands. If he just can't stomach what I have made, he will, without fanfare, fend for himself by making something else (usually pizza rolls or frozen taquitos). 

In honor of Nathan's grace and kindness, I decided to re-explore American dishes for a while, so I've made a lot of American-style casseroles and whatnot lately. I made American-style goulash in the Instant Pot the other day, and I thought it was very, very much like a yummy spaghetti bolognese (but with penne pasta), but I think I'm the only one working through the leftovers, for some reason. Hey, it's something to pack in my lunch for work, so I'm happy.

The most popular American dish I made recently was Jack Cheese Casserole, which is a recipe I included in the cook book I put together of our family's favorite recipes that I give to my children as they move out of the house, and which Siân has told me has become a favorite with Nathan and Tyler (recipe to follow). That casserole was gone the same night, with complaints that there weren't leftovers. 

I did try a recipe for Crack Chicken, but that wasn't a huge hit (though there is nothing wrong with the recipe). I had a lot of leftovers that would have gone uneaten, so today, per Husband's suggestion, I added some of the ingredients called for in our family's perennial favorite, Pampered Chef Turkey Ring (fresh parsley, celery, dijon mustard, dried cranberries, slivered almonds instead of walnuts, crescent roll dough), and salvaged the unpopular leftovers.

The quintessential American food, cheeseburgers, always makes everyone happy. I gently mix ground beef with salt, pepper, garlic powder, and a little bit of Worcestershire sauce to loosen the mixture a bit and make it easy to flatten. Then I create very thin meat patties and fry them, like a smash burger, and top them with cheese. I make fry sauce as a toasted bun spread and serve it all up with the traditional cheeseburger toppings (tomato slices, Iceberg lettuce, sliced onion, and dill pickle slices). 

I'll keep making American food for a while. Then, just when Nathan is getting all comfortable, I'll hit him with something deeply unfamiliar, haha!

This recipe is so typically American it turns your blood red, white, and blue. Bring this to a potluck and everyone will beg for the recipe.

Jack Cheese Casserole

Serves 8

8 oz corn chips (Fritos) (Siân uses tortilla chips)

2 cans tuna packed in water, drained

2 (12 oz) cans cream of chicken soup

1 (14 oz) can evaporated milk

1 large onion, diced, or 3 Tbsp dehydrated onion

1 (4 oz) can diced green chiles

1 pound grated Monterey Jack cheese (cheddar is also really good)

1. Preheat the oven to 350 deg. F.

2. Spray the bottom of a 9-inch by 13-inch baking dish with cooking spray. Spread the corn chips evenly in the dish. 

3. In a frying pan, saute the onion until soft (if using dehydrated onion, skip this step and simply mix the dehydrated onion in with everything else). Mix together the onion, tuna, soup, chiles, and evaporated milk. Pour the mixture over the corn chips.

4. Sprinkle the cheese on top of the casserole and bake, uncovered, for 25 minutes. 

A Cautionary Tale

 I got a text today from Denise, one of the faculty members. It said, "Will you be my best friend?"

That seemed odd. We already pinky swore we were best friends, like, two years ago, and we talk about boys every time we have a sleepover, so where was this coming from?

Just kidding. The only boys we talk about are our husbands, and only to brag about them. Plus, the last sleepover I ever had with a bestie was probably in 1989. 

When I went to investigate, it turned out that a couple of the girls in Denise's 10th period class had managed to snatch her phone and send out a series of texts to random people in her contacts. The girls are good kids generally, but this is definitely a lesson about password-protecting your phone!

Denise was flustered and less than amused, though she didn't scream at the girls. 

"I have to explain what's going on to about seven different people now," she said. Class was just beginning and she wasn't going to have time to sort this out for another seventy minutes at least.

"Didn't Kim's hair-raising story at lunch not give you the heeby-jeebies about leaving your phone within reach of students?" I asked.

"I know!"she said regretfully. "I thought I had it in my pocket!"

At lunch, Kim regaled us with a tale of what could have been the end of his career and his reputation (and even, perhaps, his freedom) because he left his phone within reach of a student. 

A few years ago, Kim had left his office door unlocked and his phone on his desk while he was teaching a class. A student opened the office door and grabbed the phone. Even though it was password-protected, the student could still access the photo app, and he took the phone with him into the bathroom. There, he proceeded to take a series of very graphic and intimate pictures of himself before putting the phone back on the desk, Kim none the wiser. The student thought it was a hilarious prank.

Several days later, Kim, still unaware of the photos, found that a couple other students had also grabbed his phone and snapped a few selfies of themselves--also as a prank. They told Kim about it, and something told Kim to go and look further back into his photo gallery. That's when he found the graphic photos of the boy. 

Kim was rightfully horrified and even traumatized by the photos. He immediately called our boss to report what he'd found, and that opened a police investigation into child pornography. Kim's phone was confiscated so that investigators could see if a claim could be made that Kim had solicited the photos from the boy, if he had any more such images stored in the phone, and what sorts of searches he had made in his browser. 

Fortunately, the investigation into Kim was closed after the student confessed that he had taken the photos of his own accord. Kim's phone was still destroyed, per policy, but as part of the agreement the boy and his parents made with the court, Kim was paid back the value of the phone. The student was never allowed to take seminary classes again (turns out he also had some issues sexually harassing young women).

My phone is password-protected, but I usually leave it on my desk. When I leave my office, my practice is to lock both my computer screen and my door, but there is a big window through which I speak to students that I cannot lock, even if I slide it shut. I've been lucky so far, but I am also taking this lesson more to heart from now on. The problem is that most dress pants do not include pockets large enough for a phone, which is why I leave the phone behind when I need to use the ladies room or run an errand. Yet my career and reputation could end in just a couple minutes if the wrong kid got hold of my phone...

Food for thought.

Wedding #4

 It's official!

Elannah and her boyfriend, Dalton, are engaged! 

Did I mention before that Elannah broke up with Dalton a little over a month ago? If I did, this engagement announcement will come as somewhat of a surprise. Without spilling the tea on all of their personal details, both of them grew a lot in the month they were apart. What amazed me most, however, was how Dalton handled being broken up with by the love of his life. He was terribly confused and sad, but he never spoke badly about Elannah to his friends and family. When he and Elannah ran into each other (which is inevitable in our burg), he was kind and caring rather than bitter and vengeful. Eventually, Elannah spent a lot of time praying, fasting, and visiting the temple, and she got an answer that marrying him was the thing she needed to do.

Dalton is a great guy, so we couldn't be happier. He even came and asked Husband and me for our permission before he made his surprise proposal plans, and he was so sincere and sweet. I found out later that he was so nervous about talking to us that he just about vomited, but he was very open with us during our interrogation interview. Even Husband was impressed, which is saying something. Husband asked Dalton a lot of tough questions to make him sweat a little, but we already liked him, so the interview was pretty much a formality.

The wedding will be in August. The venue is booked and Elannah has chosen her wedding colors.

It's on.