New High School, Old (Old!) Me

After a busy summer (three of my four daughters and their husbands moved from one house to another in the last three months, and we didn't have the foresight to be out of town during those moves), the start of the new school year is once again looming.

Our once rural little town has experienced a massive growth spurt in the last few years. Many of the fields and pastures have been turned into single-family and high-density housing subdivisions, and the traffic on roads not built for the high volume of cars is a nightmare. Housing is still cheap enough here that we have become even more of a bedroom community for those escaping from The Big City prices or coming here from other states (I see license plates from all over the country). When we first moved here, rush hour was four cars at a stoplight. Now the steady stream of vehicles in and out of town is never-ending on a street system that was not designed for being efficient at such a high volume. 

With all the new housing comes a greater need for schools. A new junior high is in the works and a new high school has now been completed, and with it comes a new seminary. And with a new seminary comes the opportunity for a new administrative assistant: me. 

I admit I wrangled myself into position for that job out of a mixture of both ambition and a desire for adventure. My FTE status is based on seminary enrollment numbers, and although I have been working at two seminaries for the least eighteen months, neither seminary has the enrollment numbers to make me full-time (they don't add the enrollment numbers together, unfortunately). The new seminary is siphoning off enrollment from two of the other seminaries, one of which is my original seminary, making numbers even lower and reducing hours for the admin assistant, Darlene, who actually likes the reduced hours. Because most of the growth is located within the boundaries of the new high school, I figure that enrollment at the new seminary will grow enough within a few years to give me full-time status. The bonus is the thrill of helping to start a new program and culture with a new faculty and student body.

There were some small politics involved, so skip this paragraph if that doesn't interest you. I can't remember if I ever wrote about this, but when I was originally hired five years ago, I was hired for the largest of the seminaries in the valley, which was a full-time position. Another administrative assistant, Jenie, was hired for the other seminary, which was a part-time position. Unfortunately, Jenie was a cousin by marriage to the then new principal, Griff, and HR didn't like that close of a relationship between administrators of credit cards, money and budgets. Within a couple days of being hired, I got a call from the region director who asked if I would be willing to switch seminaries, and if I wasn't, that was fine except they would then need to un-hire the new admin assistant and find someone else. I felt incredibly upset that I had been put in that position. If I wanted to keep my full-time status, I would know I had put Jenie out of a job, and I had already met her and really liked her; but by switching, I was being asked to give up the money and benefits of a full-time position. It was unfair to put me in that position, but I ended up agreeing to switch jobs. In the end, it worked out very well for me in so many ways, and I have never held a grudge against Jenie, who really is one of the best people you will ever meet. I also managed very early on to forgive the region director, Shane, for putting me in that position, which is good because he will be my new principal. But I do feel like I had every right to argue for myself as admin assistant at the new seminary after five years (and one-and-a-half years of working at two seminaries) even though Jenie's job will drop from full-time to part-time because of the drop in enrollment at her seminary. She made the choice to stay at the seminary for the time being, but enrollment at that seminary may never recover enough to grant her full-time status again. I only ever talked about this in confidence to my principals because, over the years, I never wanted to create bad feelings and drama with faculty members, and I don't have any anger about it anyway. I was the one who made the choice, however unfair I felt it was at the time to force me to make that choice, but I have been very blessed with the outcome. My principals, who had most of the say in the personnel shuffling that went on when planning to staff the new building, were quietly rooting for me to get the place at the new seminary, and neither of the other two admin assistants were fighting for that position very hard. Politics talk ended.

The former region director, Shane, who, before being region director was a teacher and principal for twenty years, has been asked to come in as an experienced principal to open the new seminary before he retires. I have worked with Denise, one of the new teachers, for several years at my original seminary, and have known her for fourteen. The other one, Jason, is a Millennial I have spoken to on occasion but never worked with. He's super intelligent, absolutely dedicated to teaching the gospel to young people, very open about his feelings, and very smart with technology. Shane, Denise, and Jason know each other very well and know all the same people and have even vacationed with each others' families, so they have a lot to say to each other, which became apparent during a recent overnight faculty retreat we took to southern Idaho. I went for hours at a time without having anything to contribute to the conversation, and I felt a little awkward much of the time, like I was back in high school and the cool kids were having a great time and had no malice towards me but simply forgot I was with them. Things got a little more awkward because of the multiple times Jason would wax poetic in singing the praises of the admin assistant I originally switched with (Jenie), and with whom he has worked for the last five years. I do not begrudge any praise ever to Jenie, who really is that awesome, but I couldn't figure out if Jason was just being a little insensitive to my feelings by going on and on and on about how great she is or if he really did want me to understand that I will never be to him and the job what Jenie is. We will see how I fit in to that dynamic over time. When two new teachers are added in a year, that will also alter the group dynamic. It will be interesting. An adventure.

It was a welcome relief when, feeling a little insecure after that faculty retreat, I went to my other seminary to meet up for some work with my other principal, Trent, and, as soon as I walked in the door, he shouted, "Eva! How are you! I missed you! How's your summer? It's so good to see you!" and was genuinely glad to see me and have a nice, catch-up conversation before getting to work. I will also still be working with Tanner, for whom I have great affection, and now with Kim, who was transferred over from my original seminary after being there for twelve years, and who replaced Kristine (who was transferred to Jenie's seminary, and with whom I very much enjoyed working). Kim and I are old friends, and the three of them, Trent, Tanner, and Kim are so fun and easy to work with that working at that seminary is always going to be thoroughly enjoyable. 

In other news, Elannah and her husband moved just a couple weeks ago to her in-laws' basement (fortunately, it's a huge house, so they have a huge basement) in order to save money toward a down payment on their own future house. Elannah works with my other daughter, Gabrielle, and now one of my other sons-in-law, Sophia's husband Matt, at Adobe (the company that operates Photoshop, Illustrator, etc.) and is putting her husband through commercial flight school. Anyway, they are now living close enough to us that Elannah and I can take quick shopping trips together again without one of us having to drive a long way to meet up. Last Saturday, she and I went to Chinatown in The Big City, which is not an entire neighborhood like in some cities but just a little mall with a massive grocery store selling Asian foods and products and some restaurants. We enjoyed shopping through the store and then grabbing some fish cakes, soup, and tteokbokki at a little Korean restaurant. And, of course, chatting. 

Gabrielle and Raine finally got Raine's medical discharge date for late September/early October, and that is a huge relief after over eighteen months of what was supposed to be a one-year deployment. They just moved into a sweet and quirky little 1930s cottage they are purchasing that somehow manages to pack four bedrooms into a very small footprint but has been updated enough to be modern and usable. Raine took some leave to come and help with the move before heading back to Colorado, and they will both be so glad to finally be together again in a couple months.

I had to dig out my high school yearbook to get a scan of my graduation photo as part of the new seminary faculty's introduction of themselves to the new student body. I don't have an original copy of that picture (I gave away the only copy I had), so it's really pixelated. Old technology for old people.

Look how young and cute I was! Sad how things change, although I would not give up the incredible life I have had with all it's weight gains and losses (well, I would give up the weight gain for sure), scars, pains, and triumphs. It would probably be very dangerous if we aged backward. Can you imagine going from old, saggy, and in pain every time you sneeze wrong to young, vibrant, and able to eat anything without gaining weight? While youth is wasted on the young, it would be far worse to know better with an older mind in a young body. One would hope wisdom would prevail, but one is probably too optimistic.

I remember being in my high school's art room where the art teacher took this picture. I suddenly realized I did not have a senior photo and the deadline for that section was coming up. I even developed the film myself, which was a skill I was happy to learn back then but is now almost obsolete. 

For some reason, the art teacher, who was the yearbook advisor, asked me to be the editor-in-chief of the yearbook even though I had absolutely no experience with putting together a yearbook, and I was naive enough to agree. I also had to be the layout editor because I didn't have anyone else to do it (small school woes), and back in those days, you had to draw everything out with graph paper and rulers. Oh, the deadlines! They were constant! I pretty much worked a full time job getting that thing to the publishers. The one photographer I had hated my guts and quit halfway through, so I ended up becoming chief photographer and photo developer as well. I wish I could say I was brilliant at it from the start and put together a yearbook no one could have guessed came from a rookie, but what really happened was that I would have been very good at it about three years later. The yearbook was pretty crap. 

Me, trying not to drown in 1989 before I graduated in 1990.

I Asked ChatGPT to Write Me a Blog Post in My Style, and Now I'm Going to be Sick

 Yikes. Out of pure curiosity, I asked ChatGPT to write a blog post in the style of my blog. It said, "Sure! Here's a blog post in the playful, light-hearted style of justforchuckles.blogspot.com."

How silly is it that I was a little flattered that an artificial intelligence described my style as "playful" and "light-hearted?" 

Here's what it came up with. Frankly, I'm appalled. Do I really come off as this ditzy? Have I ever written the sentence "But here's the thing" and ended it with a period instead of a colon before elucidating on the thing? That particular grammatical travesty (not to mention the overall content) makes me sound like a total guppy (see what I did there? you will), and I own the more than fifty years of life I have accumulated on this earth! 

This fake blog post is giving total Gen Z vibes, but it would be even more Gen Z-appropriate if it didn't include any capitals or punctuation--as if I am texting or tweeting (X-ing?) my blog post rather than writing it from a very Gen X, obsessed with grammar and punctuation and a love of diagramming sentences, viewpoint (though, to be fair, it's not reasonable to assume that more than 25% of the Gen X generation are--or have ever been--obsessed with diagramming sentences.) 

For the record, I have never had a goldfish named Bubbles. I would NEVER name a goldfish Bubbles. And the life lesson wee Bubbles has apparently taught me is so insipid that I am hanging my head in shame that, after sorting through all my content, THIS is what an AI thinks I would write. This is a blog post I would have left as a draft and never published because my overthinking self would have been entirely correct. If you read the AI blog post below and can't decide how it differs from my real content, please do not tell me because I will be sick and never write again. Let me continue to live the lie.

Now, buckle up for the life lesson of the ages!

The Strangest Things I’ve Learned From My Pet Goldfish

So, the other day, I found myself in a deep philosophical conversation with my pet goldfish. And no, I’m not kidding. I’m not losing my mind, I swear! My fish, Bubbles (yes, I named him Bubbles), has been teaching me some pretty profound lessons about life. Who knew that a little fish could change the way I look at the world?

1. You Don’t Have To Keep Swimming In Circles

We all know the classic stereotype about goldfish: they swim in circles. They swim, and then they swim some more, and then... yup, they swim some more. But here's the thing. Bubbles has a bit of a rebellious streak. Every once in a while, he’ll just float. Not swim in a circle, not frantically chase a plastic castle (don’t ask), but just float there, in perfect stillness.

And you know what? Sometimes, I think we could all learn something from Bubbles. Life doesn’t always have to be this never-ending sprint. You don’t have to keep swimming in circles, constantly hustling, stressing out, chasing after things. Sometimes, it’s okay to just… float. Chill. Let the water (aka life) carry you for a bit.

2. Everything Can Be Entertaining If You Look Closely Enough

Bubbles is a small fish. He doesn’t do much. But let me tell you, when you watch him carefully, it’s like you’re witnessing a tiny aquatic sitcom. The way he flits around the tank like he’s in a rush to catch the bus, or the way he pauses dramatically in front of his castle (like he’s deep in thought), it’s impossible not to giggle.

It’s a reminder that even the most mundane things can be fascinating if you take the time to appreciate the little details. Whether it's the clouds in the sky or your morning coffee, there’s something fun to notice everywhere—if you're paying attention.

3. Don’t Let the Small Stuff Stress You Out

You ever notice how Bubbles gets upset when his castle is in the wrong place? He’ll swim right up to it, give it a little tap, and then proceed to act like it’s the end of the world. Then, a few minutes later, he’ll forget all about it and continue his day like nothing happened.

It’s hilarious, but also a great life lesson. We all get worked up over little things sometimes, but most of the time, those things aren’t as important as we think. Will that coffee spill matter tomorrow? Will the fact that your pen ran out of ink really ruin your day? Probably not. So, maybe don’t sweat the small stuff. And if you do, remember: tomorrow’s a new day, and you’ll likely forget why you were stressing.

4. Patience Is Key—Especially When It Comes to Feeding Time

Now, this one is a little more selfish on my part, but hear me out. Bubbles has this incredible ability to wait patiently when I drop food into the tank. The moment I approach with the fish flakes, he’s right there at the surface, staring at me like he’s giving me a motivational speech. "You got this, human. You can do it. Just drop the food, and I’ll eat it." No squirming, no frantic jumping. Just zen-like patience.

It got me thinking—if a fish can stay calm when food is literally seconds away, maybe I should try to be a little more patient when things aren’t happening as quickly as I’d like. I’m talking about the "waiting for the weekend" vibe, the "waiting for your food delivery" vibe, or that "waiting for your Netflix show to load" vibe. Bubbles is on to something, I think.

5. Live Your Best Life (Even If Your Best Life Involves Small Tanks)

Lastly, Bubbles lives in a very small fish tank. It’s not luxurious, it’s not even high-tech. It’s just a regular tank with a filter and a plastic castle. But you know what? He’s absolutely thriving. He doesn’t complain. He doesn’t look longingly out the window at the vast ocean (though, to be fair, he has no idea what the ocean is). He’s living his best fish life, and that’s what counts.

It’s a good reminder that happiness doesn’t require grandiose things. You don’t need a mansion, a fancy car, or the latest gadget to enjoy life. Sometimes, the simple things—a tank, some fish flakes, and a plastic castle—are all you really need.

---

So, the next time you're having a tough day or feel like life’s just a bit too crazy, think about Bubbles. He’s got it all figured out. Swim when you need to, float when you don’t. Be patient, and don’t forget to laugh at the small things. And remember: If a goldfish can make it through life with a plastic castle and a filter, you can totally conquer whatever your day throws at you.

Until next time, keep swimming (or floating, your choice)!

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Disclaimer: No goldfish were harmed in the making of these life lessons.

End Radio Silence

 I'm still alive! I feel like I should say that first because I've been radio silent for so long.

I don't really have a good reason for not posting more often. Life has been busy, but not unpleasantly so. It's just been day-to-day stuff, although some things have progressed over the last few months. I write drafts to post and then overthink them and end up not posting anything at all.

I have lost almost 70 pounds now, and that feels great. By the middle of May, I will have been taking tirzepatide for a year, so 70 pounds (or a little more by the time I hit my one year mark) is a good--but not crazy--weight loss amount, and I don't feel like I've had any negative side effects from the weekly shot. 

Obviously, I feel better in many ways. Donating my old clothes as they get baggy and then purchasing new clothing I feel is flattering has been a lot of fun. The best thing, however, is that playing with my very active grandsons is much, much easier. Everything is much easier!

Speaking of the grandsons, I love them so much and have such joy in them! Because Sophia lives close by, I get to see her little Bam-Bam at least once a week. I don't get to see Siân's four as much, but it's always a grand time when I can go to their house and hang out with them. We send frequent Marco Polo videos to each other so I can laugh at their antics and feel my heart explode with love for them.

My daughters, sons-in-law, and sons are doing well (or, in Raine's case, not great but better than he was).

Elannah and Gabrielle work together at a large software company, but while Gabrielle has long been hired by the company as a full-time employee, Elannah has been a contractor for the past year, and the end date for her contract was starting to loom large. Fortunately, she was just informed that, because of some personnel changes, she will be hired as a full-time employee before her contract ends, giving her some good job security and a nice pay bump. Also PTO. This is wonderful news because she has been putting her husband through flight school (he recently earned his private pilot's license and is now working on his commercial pilot's license) and they needed that job security. 

Gabrielle's husband, Raine, is the one who was injured during his deployment last year in Djibouti, Africa. He was on duty and was climbing into the back of a truck when the driver hit the gas, which caused Raine to bump his head hard, twice, on both sides of his head, before he flew out of the truck and hit the back of his head very soundly against the ground. Despite being diagnosed with a severe concussion and ordered onto bed rest for three weeks, his commanding officer ignored the order and required him to continue working after only twenty-four hours. After a month or so of severe and constant headaches and nausea, along with terrible insomnia, Raine finally demanded to be allowed to see the doctor again. By this point, his commanding officer, who didn't believe he had been so severely injured and thought Raine was faking it, had spread some nasty rumors around his company, causing his fellow soldiers to treat him poorly. When the base doc took a look at Raine, he immediately ordered him to be sent to the American base in Germany. There, the doctors diagnosed him with a traumatic brain injury as a result of the untreated severe concussion. Raine then spent eight months at Walter Reed Hospital in Washington, D.C., being treated. He has not seen significant improvement, but the Army recently re-stationed him to the base in Colorado for the duration of his treatment. Hopefully, within another eight or nine months, he will receive his medical discharge. Because he was injured on duty through no fault of his own (in a technical combat zone), and because the outcome of his untreated concussion was also not his fault, he should be receiving a very generous monthly stipend from the Army for the rest of his life, as well as top-quality military health insurance. Meanwhile, by the time he is discharged, he and Gabrielle will have been apart for almost two years. They decided that Gabrielle would not move out to Colorado in order to keep the townhome they're currently renting so Raine can come home to a familiar place. Gabrielle and Raine have become fairly philosophical about it all and are just looking forward to being together again full time and maybe starting a family. The monthly medical check will be very helpful.

Husband and I ran some errands into The Big City today, and Sophia asked if she and Bam-Bam could tag along as her husband works on Saturdays and they were bored. That was so much fun!

My father is on hospice now. He was in so much pain for so long that going on hospice has been a relief. He actually feels a lot better and far more happy. Now they can treat his pain without worrying so much about long-term negative effects of the pain medication on his organs. His quality of life has improved, and he can smile and joke around again. I love my dad so much.

One of the things that has changed recently has made both of my parents very happy:

I have two younger sisters, and one of them (Ann) has lived in The Big City for the last couple decades, and we are very close. My other sister, Adele, has had a rough life. She is a supremely loving and caring person, but she has made some poor choices in men and in life decisions, and those decisions have led to some pretty serious physical problems (if I ever again run into the piece of crap former boyfriend who hurt her years ago and caused her those injuries, heaven help him). She was living in rural Minnesota until a couple months ago, but her car had broken down and she was having a very difficult time getting to necessary medical appointments and refills on her medications, which was causing even more physical and emotional/mental issues. Her current piece of crap boyfriend didn't care and was no help.

My mom bought a good used car, which she registered in Adele's name, and my sister, Ann, and my brother, Aaron, made the drive to bring Adele the car. When my siblings arrived at Adele's place, she saw their faces, looked around at her piece of crap boyfriend and her sad life, and said, "I'm coming back with you." By six o'clock the next morning, she was packed and ready to go, and she is now living with my parents and my two youngest brothers, Aaron (who owns the house) and Thomas, my youngest sibling. Due to her frequent migraines and some other ailments, I was only recently able to see her again at a family party at Siân's house, where she also got to meet her nephews for the first time. It was a great reunion. I'm so glad she's with us, her family, again. When she is able, she is helping take care of the household chores and cooking--along with my amazing brothers--so that my mother (who, even in her late 70s and with capable, grown children, thinks she, as the mother, should take care of everything and everyone) can concentrate on taking care of my dad.

My older son, Joseph, is working for the Census Bureau and making plans for his life. He is a smart, funny, good-hearted young man, and I love the conversations we have when we pass as ships in the late afternoon or early evening--especially when he's teasing me about my woeful ignorance of his generation's meme humor. We had a sad moment today, however, when we had to bury his little parakeet, Dave, who passed away in the night. Husband and I, after discovering a deceased Dave this morning (he had been ailing for a little while), took care of giving him a solemn little burial in the back yard and cleaning up his cage and all his toys to be donated to some other cute little birdie buddy. RIP, Dave. You were the best little parakeet you could be, and I really was very fond of you despite your screeching every time I turned the kitchen sink faucet on and the endless supply of bird seed you scattered onto the floor. The wall behind where your cage hung is sadly empty.

We still have Marmite the Dog, however. He's an old man now, roughly seventeen or eighteen, but he still loves to chase his squeaky toy when I throw it, go on walks, and be right at my side when I'm home. He's almost completely deaf, however, but he now "talks" constantly, usually in a whine as he begs for treats. Also, like an old man, he usually has to pee at some horrible hour of the early morning, and I'm the one he comes to get to let him out. 

Back to my children, though. Gary is almost finished with high school and is still working two jobs as both a student sweeper at his old elementary school on weekdays and at the bakery on Saturdays. He's saving money for a mission. This kid has an amazing capacity to store historical facts, especially as they pertain to world conflicts. He passionately seeks out historical data merely because he is fascinated by it. During a recent car ride, he gave me a thorough education on all the nuances of Japan's involvement in World War II. It was incredibly eye-opening because those were not things I ever learned in my school history classes.

Husband is still teaching fifth graders and I'm still working at the two seminary buildings, loving my job. The new high school and seminary is opening for the next school year, and we just found out who the new seminary principal will be. Now we will start sorting out who the faculty members will be and if I will be the new administrative assistant there, which I'm pretty sure I will be. I'll let you know. I'm currently practicing Shostakovich's Piano Concerto No. 2, movement II, for my next recital in May. I'd also play the third movement if I was a far better pianist and could get it perfected in two months, but that is not going to happen. But I thoroughly enjoy the journey!

I think I'll leave it there. Thanks for stopping by and hanging out! I hope your day has been a good one!

Still Not a Holiday Recap

 I realize that this is not a recap of our trip to England. I had great plans for getting all those photos and videos organized and presented. I have everything on a thumb drive now because I was worried about losing all my photos and videos when I changed phones recently, so that's Step One done. I just need to complete all the other steps.

It's a been a minute, yes. The days fly by somehow, and here it is halfway through October. 

I performed at my first recital in August. I did not know what to expect, never having had a piano recital before, so I was all nerves. My teacher put me just about last on the program, just before he performed a movement of the concerto he has composed (which is amazing and which won second place in all of Utah for a composition competition!); but being second-to-last helped me calm down a little bit as the program progressed. Most of the students were young, of course, with only one other male student about my age, and none of us was perfect.

I started with Prelude in D Major by Chad Lawson, and I used that to help me warm up to my main piece, which was Chopin's Etude, Opus 10: No. 3 (Tristesse). Like many of Chopin's works, the etude starts out innocently enough and then BLAMMO! in the middle section, only to go back and reprise the original theme at the end. 

I was nervous enough about playing that I didn't want to add to my nerves by inviting anyone to the recital, so I had no additional family members or friends there. I did test myself by making one of my faculties listen to me perform for them during lunch, and they were very supportive and encouraging, of course, even though I made mistakes. 

Husband almost didn't come, either. He was very unwell that day, but he insisted on coming to support me, bless him, even though I told him he should stay home and rest. He tried to take a video of my performance, but by that point in the program, he was so unwell that he only recorded part of the first piece. We left very quickly as soon as the recital concluded, and he was able to see the doctor an hour or so later and get the medication he needed (he had run out of his blood pressure medication a couple weeks prior and had put off seeing the doctor to get a refill). He is fine now, but he didn't feel normal for a few days after that until the medication started kicking in to its fullest extent. He won't make that mistake again! It was frightening for both of us.

Having thankfully survived my first recital, I am now preparing my next piece, which is Rachmaninoff's Études-Tableaux, Op 33: No 7 in G Minor (Moderato), and playing with Chopin's Premiere Ballade No. 1 in G Minor, Op 23. I say "playing with" because it will take me forever to get anywhere in the vicinity of mastering that piece. Again, the first part is very reasonable before Chopin goes beautifully nuts for pages and pages. I can play it all now, but only very slowly. Same with the Rachmaninoff, though Rachmaninoff's crazy middle section is of significantly shorter duration. 

Later...

Today had been rough for me, emotionally speaking. Sundays frequently are, because those are the days I am most likely to focus on my failings as a person and a leader. I am still the president of the Young Women organization in my congregation. I love those girls, but as a group--and they are a small group--they are frustrating. The older ones are not well-versed in the art of conversational manners, and they are hard to get to know. The younger ones are much more responsive, and I am developing friendships with them, but the older girls are hard to reach. I am often discouraged that I have such a hard time getting the older ones to open up and talk. I am also frequently discouraged because I will put so much time and preparation into the weekly activities--activities they requested!--and will have only one or two girls show up.

We had a stake Young Women Standards Night meeting this evening, so I went and was sitting near the front in the pews. A man sat down beside me, and I looked over and saw it was a man I know, the father of a couple of the seminary students. We greeted each other, and he said, "Do you get the same kind of glory as the seminary teachers?"

I thought he was asking if I understood how great the seminary teachers are, which I do. I love working with each and every one of them, and they all have different, yet effective, teaching styles. That wasn't what he meant, however. He corrected himself and said, "No, I mean do you hear from the seminary kids how much they care about you?"

He went on to explain that his son, who just last week entered the Mexico Missionary Training Center before he travels to his mission in Peru, had mentioned me by name. He had often come and had a chat with me at the seminary during one of his free hours, and I guess that meant enough to him that he mentioned it to his parents. 

That obviously made me feel a little better. That group of kids who just graduated was the first group I saw all the way from freshmen to seniors, and I had developed a good relationship with about a dozen of them. Those boys and girls would frequently come and talk to me before class or during their free hours, and I very much enjoyed watching them grow and mature. Most of them are now serving missions, and they each came and told me where they had been called to serve so I could celebrate with them, or they shared their post-high school plans with me. That group of kids will always have a special place in my heart. 

What that man shared made me feel a little less discouraged today, which is a blessing, and I am grateful. I have a very hard time seeing my strengths, and it is easy for me to get discouraged over my faults and weaknesses, which are many and varied. I went home feeling a lot better than when I arrived. I'll just keep plodding along with my young women. Maybe I will have a lasting impression on them and maybe not, but I always try to make them understand that I am happy to see them and that I am interested in their lives.

My Most Embarrassing Moment

 Husband, Gary, and I recently got back from our ten-day trip to England, which was a total blast. I am working on sorting out all the pics and videos I took so I can create a trip log as a memory for myself, and I'll share that here.

Meanwhile, I'm still trying to get my sleep schedule back on track with local time, which is seven hours  behind England. For some reason, it was a little easier this time to adjust to Greenwich Mean Time than it has been to come home. It's been four days and I am still falling asleep before 9pm and waking up at 4am. I'm not totally opposed to this as I love having quiet, contemplative mornings before getting ready for work (which, yes, has started again); my body has also decided I'm a morning person now as I advance in age, so this is fine. What happens after 9pm that I care about anyway? Yes, I'll be the senior citizen who eats dinner by 5pm and is lights out before the young people are even ready to hit the town. I've earned it.

I love my bed. My Layla mattress and adjustable frame is the most comfortable bed I have ever slept in. This morning, however, I woke up at 3:30am, surprisingly tense, and realized that my brain had been rehashing my most embarrassing moment--again!--and that sleep would now be impossible. I got up, went downstairs, and tried to relax with a couple political commentary YouTube videos and by playing the piano (which is electric, so I can use headphones to not disturb anyone). Even still I found myself squirming with embarrassment.

Husband is also not adjusted to local time, so he came downstairs about an hour later to get his morning drink. I told him my brain had been rehashing my most embarrassing moment, and I was surprised to find I had never told him about it given that this is a memory I have had to relive in excruciating detail for the past thirty years. After I recounted it, he had a big laugh. "That's an awesome story!" he said. "That's the other guy's best story to tell other people!" and he chuckled all the way back upstairs.

I don't know if it's an awesome story, but I did have the thought that if I get it out here, maybe my brain can give me some rest on the subject. You be the judge on the awesomeness factor.

______

In December of 1990, I was a college freshman living in the dorms at Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah. I was nineteen years old, so I was still pretty stupid. Cute, maybe, but stupid.

I had to leave campus for Christmas break as we were not allowed to stay in the dorms, and I didn't have any relatives or friends that lived nearby who could put me up. My parents had been paying my tuition and housing, but they were not overly wealthy. I didn't have a job, so it was up to them to find me a plane ticket home. 

My mom found a deal called Companion Tickets. I think it was a discounted set of tickets that required two people to split the cost or something, but it was much more affordable than a single ticket. There was another guy from Minnesota living in my dorms, so I approached him about buying the other ticket, which he and his family agreed to. I didn't know the guy well, and I can't even remember his name anymore, and I'm not sure if that makes this better or worse.

One of my friends from Minneapolis, Minnesota, Joseph, happened to be visiting his cousin in Salt Lake City at that time. Joseph and his cousin (and I can't remember his cousin's name, either, which is infinitely worse!) agreed to come and pick me up from BYU and let me stay overnight at the cousin's house before driving me to the airport the next day. It was incredibly generous and solved my very real transportation problem, as I had no car and no money for a bus. The weather had been worsening, and by the time they picked me up, snow was starting to fall in earnest. By evening, a blizzard had set in, and the roads were getting treacherous.

We spent the evening at the cousin's house, and we had a good time. The cousin was a cute boy and very flirtatious, and we all laughed and enjoyed each others' company. 

The next morning, the weather was truly hideous and the roads were terrible. I kept calling the airport to check that the flight was still on, and I also started calling the guy who had my companion ticket to see if he was going to make it to the airport, which he said he was trying to do but was having issues because of the weather.

The reason I was so worried was that the instructions for the tickets stated very clearly that unless both people for the companion tickets were at the airport, the other one would not be able to board. At least, that is what I understood. Being young and stupid, I didn't ask any questions because I was afraid that if I asked I would be told I couldn't go on the plane. If I couldn't fly home, I didn't know what I would do because I knew my parents really couldn't afford to purchase another ticket. This is what I told Joseph and his cousin, so they knew my concerns.

Joseph's aunt drove the three of us to the airport that morning. Joseph and his cousin accompanied me into the airport to help me check my bags and walk me up to the gate (you could do that in those days). As the time to board came closer and closer, my companion ticket holder had still not arrived. I still didn't ask the gate agent what would happen if he didn't show up because I assumed I would be denied boarding. 

Finally, I had to board, but what to do? That is when Joseph's cousin came up with the brilliant idea to pretend to be the other guy and board the plane and fly to Minnesota with me. In those days, a boarding pass was all you needed, so it was possible. Had we thought about it for a moment, we would have realized how very dumb that plan was (at the very least, why him? Joseph was the one who lived in Minnesota, so he would just be going home a little early), but we were young, and he was obviously attracted to me and had become a little reckless because of it.

(Argh! I'm squirming so hard with embarrassment right now I'm going to put my back out!)

The cousin and I got on the plane and flirted all the way back to Minneapolis, where he got off to call Joseph's surprised parents for a ride to their house, and I caught my connecting flight to Duluth. Meanwhile, back in Salt Lake City, poor Joseph had to go out and inform his aunt that her son had hopped on a plane. And when the companion ticket holder did finally show up to the airport, they searched and searched for his boarding pass, which had disappeared, only to find it amongst the boarding passes for my flight, which mystified them (they did allow him to board the plane for a later flight, so he did make it home). 

And the final cherry on top of my embarrassment--at least, for this leg of the journey--is that the cousin missed a very important dance that his girlfriend (!!) had been looking forward to for weeks. The fact that it was his idea to hop on the plane with me is irrelevant because I should have just asked some questions about the ticket and avoided all the hullabaloo.

To say that Joseph's aunt was furious with me, her son, and the universe is fair. I'm not sure of how it happened, but she was able to hold one of the return tickets hostage until someone paid for her son's Greyhound bus ticket home. My mom didn't have the money, so the poor companion ticket holder's parents had to cough it up even though they were not at fault in any way for what had happened. The cousin spent Christmas with Joseph's parents and then got the Greyhound bus home, though he got delayed in Iowa or Nebraska for a while when the temperatures dropped so low the diesel fuel in the bus tanks gelled. The bright side was that he met a girl from my dorm on the way back to Salt Lake, and because she was very cute, I'm sure they had a wonderful trip. After we were back on campus for spring semester, she told me he had said to say hi to me when she was relating to me how they ended up stranded together in some podunk town in the midwest. 

I never actually spoke to Joseph's cousin again, although Joseph and I remained friends. I have no idea if the cousin's girlfriend forgave her wayward boyfriend, but Joseph was kind enough to never throw this incident in my face in later years. 

Unfortunately, I was so embarrassed about what happened that I could never face the companion ticket holder, so I never apologized, and whenever we happened to see each other on campus, it was horribly awkward. 

_______

That is my tale. Was it an awesome story for Joseph's cousin? Maybe. That would be my only consolation. He was a lot of fun, though if his former girlfriend is reading this (haha!), nothing more than flirting happened.

Now I hope that my brain can consider this embarrassing moment sufficiently dumped and handled and not bother me with it ever again.

My Current Experience with Tirzepatide

 For the last two months and a week, I have been taking weekly tirzepatide shots. Tirzepatide is used in brands like Mounjaro for Type 2 diabetes, but I'm using it off-label as a weight-management aid under the direction of my doctor. I suspect I was a little insulin-resistant when I started, but I have never been diagnosed with Type 2 diabetes.

Tirzepatide isn't Ozempic, a semaglutide, but it has similar effects on hunger. At my current dose of 7.5mg/week, I feel no hunger. I can only stomach one meal a day, which I make sure is composed of protein and complex carbs with a little bit of a sweet when I care for it (a dirty keto diet plus a 23/1 intermittent fasting schedule, if you will). The weight loss is not overly dramatic, either, which I like, because I am done with diets or schemes that cause you to lose a lot of weight very quickly, even if I sometimes feel impatient about how slowly the scale numbers fall. I don't think you can maintain that quick weight loss once you quit those diets (at least, I have never been able to) because you have put yourself into starvation mode, so not only does your metabolism slow, but the minute you eat normally or--more likely--go back to your bad habits, you gain all that weight back--plus more. Plus, you have to always be thinking about food, which sucks away your willpower. With tirzepatide, I have lost about 1-2 pounds per week for a total of just under 20 pounds at this point with practically no effort on my part (I'm a little into my third month. My starting dose was 2.5mg for the first month and 5mg for the second month. Both doses greatly curbed hunger, but my current dose is the ticket for me, I think). 

I have not had any negative side effects that I have noticed, and those were one of the reasons I was initially very against these types of shots. But desperation from gaining more weight after menopause after everything I was trying to do to improve my diet drove me to ask my doctor what to do, and she told me her patients have had very good experiences with tirzepatide. If I didn't need to lose so much weight, I would have kept trying with diet alone, but things were getting out of control. I don't have any issues administering the shot to myself, which is good because tirzepatide only comes in injection form. 

What is totally awesome is that I could fill the kitchen with junk food and would have no interest in it. I just don't crave junk food or sweets. My son brought home a box of donuts from work today and I haven't even thought about them. I realized that when I went into the kitchen and saw the box that had been sitting there for a few hours and noticed that my first response to the sight was revulsion. We have a few bags of chips left over from a recent family gathering, and just the thought of them makes me ill. I don't have to practice self-discipline or exert all my willpower to distract myself from hunger, and that is a very key piece of the puzzle for me. The one thing I have cravings for, strangely, is boiled eggs, though even that craving has disappeared once my dose was raised from last month. A couple boiled eggs with some lemon-pepper seasoning was my go-to main part of a meal last month. As far as cravings go, I could do a lot worse than a perfect protein like boiled eggs!

If I make a meal for my family, I will have that as my one meal. If we are having leftovers, I will often just have a tin of sardines and a boiled egg and a salad for my meal and feel very full for hours. 

We'll see how it goes, but I am very happy with the results so far. It's pricey (I am paying $400 for a month's worth of injections), but I can use our health savings account to pay for it, and Husband's employer matches our contributions. 

I will admit that I have felt some shame about resorting to injections for weight loss--especially for something so currently controversial, and for something about which I was originally very opposed. I made this decision after a lot of very sincere prayer, but I haven't really talked about it to many people outside of my family. I'm feeling less shame as I am seeing positive results while making sure that I eat wisely when I do eat. Not having to wear out my willpower and then feel almost daily guilt and disappointment in myself for failing to eat perfectly clean or succumbing to some junk food craving or having a second serving of something delicious I've cooked is such a huge relief.  I'm also not worried about "Ozempic face" because that cadaverous look is the result of extremely fast weight loss and often corrects itself when the person gains back a little weight to look normal. I have a long way to go before I would look cadaverous.

There is one other piece added into my overall health puzzle, and that is the addition of daily progesterone pills with my once-quarterly subcutaneous testosterone/estradiol pellets. My menopausal body has quit making progesterone, which aids in getting sound sleep and feeling more positive, so the addition has been very welcome. I am now getting much more restful sleep than even before, and I have become a morning person again. I enjoy being the first one up and having the living room to myself as I enjoy some herbal tea, feed the dog and the bird, and decide what to do with my free time.

Conversation Starters

I've spent lots of time hanging out with Sophia and little Bam-Bam. He's putting on some weight and looking a little less like a pruny newborn. He's alert longer in the day, so I have been enjoying some quality time having staring contests with him while telling him how handsome he is. 

Fed, burped, and sleepy. And so is he.

Sophia has been recovering very well from the delivery, which makes me very happy. Bam-Bam doesn't have a massive head like Siân's littlest one, who fractured her pelvis (though I love that big-headed little boy with all my heart!). Sophia is loving being a mom to this little guy, but I know she still feels a bit overwhelmed--especially when Matt is gone at work. I told her that after she has two children, she will completely forget what she used to do when she had time for herself. In some ways, that's a blessing. It allows you to focus on developing healthy schedules for you and your kids without always pining about all the activities you used to enjoy when your time was your own. She's a natural at being a mother, and I am so proud of her!

 My youngest son, Gary, gave his first talk in Sacrament Meeting a couple weeks ago on Fathers Day. He did a great job and even cracked a joke using sublime comedic timing, which made everyone laugh. I may have written his talk, but I didn't write that joke. That was all him. For all of his talk, he spoke clearly and slowly enough to be understood while making eye contact with members of the congregation. You would not have been able to tell this was his first public speech. He looked comfortable and relaxed. He looked sharp in his new suit. Well done, kid! He did a great job, and he got tons of compliments. He even got another one today, a couple weeks later!

This kid keeps growing! He is at least six feet tall with another year or so of growing, so finding trousers that fit both his tiny waist and his long legs is a constant battle. He does enjoy reminding me that he is now much taller than I am.

Husband has completed his Great Garage Cleanout and turned it into an organized shop. He does wood and resin projects, and he figured out how to create plenty of work space for himself as well as space for all the things we need to store. He's amazing. We don't actually use the garage to park cars. It might be a double garage, but it doesn't comfortably accommodate large vehicles unless you don't intend to open the door and exit the vehicle once inside the garage, so the garage is more useful as storage/workshop space. 

During the garage cleanout, Husband brought a bunch of my things inside: mostly cloth and crafting stuff I'd forgotten about as well as some photos from college and my mission. I've been slowly working the crafting stuff I wanted to keep into my craft room, and I found some photo corners and scrapbooks to house the loose photos and keep them preserved.

One thing that came in from the garage was a jar I must have made back in our old house when I was in the Young Womens organization there. It is filled with slips of colored paper that have conversation starters printed on them.

Here is a sample of the questions:

"What would you do if you were invited to two parties at the same time?"

Easy. Give some excuse about being busy to both parties and stay home. 

"Should you have chores around the house? Why or why not?"

If I didn't have chores, no one around here would ever eat home cooked food, and men certainly don't see when bathrooms need cleaning! But I am grateful my mother and father made me do chores as a child despite how much I complained. I learned some valuable skills, even if one of them was how to sneakily pretend to vacuum the living room and get away with it.

"When have you felt lonely?"

The incident that first popped into my head was a time back when I was a senior in high school. My friend group was some of the youth from my ward, and none of us went to the same schools, and we were spread out over the entire city, so getting together was kind of a big deal. I looked forward to hanging out with my friends even if the boys drove me crazy sometimes. There was lots of laughter and teasing.

I had recently and finally recovered from a crush I had nursed for one of the young men, Peter (not his real name), and that was very helpful in this situation, because he had always been aware of my crush on him and was a bit smug about it. He kept calling and asking where my best friend, Kay (not her real name), was. I found out over the course of a couple calls that our other friend, Bertram (not his real name), was at Peter's and George's (not his real name) house (Peter and George were brothers), so the gang was all nearly together except that Peter wasn't interested in finding out if I could come over, he only wanted to know where Kay was. 

A bit miffed, I tried to call Kay myself. I think I managed to get her on the phone and I told her that Peter was looking for her. She was confused, but she thanked me and hung up. 

Hours went by. Kay wasn't answering her phone after I initially got in touch with her (this was in the time of land lines, kids, so if someone wasn't home to answer the phone, you had to wait and wonder). Peter never called back. I huffily spent that Friday evening by myself. It wasn't until several days later that I learned what had happened, and then I was exceedingly glad that I had thoroughly recovered from that stupid crush on Peter.

Peter either called Kay or Kay called Peter, but in any event, Peter invited Kay over to his house. She went over and hung out with Peter and Bertram all evening. After a few hours, Bertram left, and Kay ended up making out with Peter for quite a while. Apparently, Peter and Bertram had made a bet that one of them could get Kay to make out with them, and Peter won. 

That incident made me feel lonely. 

It took a while for Kay to tell me what happened, and I felt some betrayal at the whole thing, even though I didn't care for Peter romantically anymore (this was just one of the many types of things that helped me overcome my crush). Kay had known about my crush for a long time, and she had even had a crush on Peter's brother, George. I don't think our group really recovered after that. Kay moved with her family to another state at some point that year. The rest of us drifted apart as I wasn't close friends with either Peter or Bertram on their own. I also started dating a boy who didn't know any of them. I went off to college and made new friends, though Kay and I did stay friends for a long time. Distance made it difficult, and Kay and I eventually lost contact--probably when I went on my mission. I was never really mad at Kay, but I was disgusted with Peter and Bertram for quite a while. It gave me a little satisfaction that Peter could tell I no longer had a crush on him, but I mostly didn't care. We were still friendly when we saw each other, but the old gang was no more.

Now that I've written it out, I can forget all about it. I guess I still had some angst to get over if that incident popped up in my memory so fast, hahaha! I'm in my 50's and that happened when I was 18, so that's a little embarrassing.

"What is your favorite thing about yourself?"

That despite how discouraged I get with my weaknesses and my lack of talent in areas where I want to be talented, I keep plugging along, even if it takes me a while to buck up and give myself some grace. 

Case in point: my piano teacher suggested a piece for me to play for a recital in August. He handed me Chopin's Etude, Opus 10 No. 3, otherwise known as Tristesse. I laughed and laughed, but he was serious. He thinks I can do it. Based on his belief alone, I have stuck with it. I have dreamed it and breathed it. It's always playing through my head (which does make concentrating on other things hard sometimes). I wouldn't have kept going with it if he didn't say he was sure I could do it. I'm still terrible at it, but I have improved quite a bit, and that has brought me a lot of joy. I don't think I would have pushed myself that hard on my own because I would not have believed it was possible for me to master it. 

Even if I don't perfect it well enough to play at the recital (I do have a backup piece), I have been able to forgive myself for not being good at it sooner. 

Okay, that is entirely enough about myself. Sorry. The need to write does push me here, and the desire to not expose too much sensitive information about others in my life means I write about myself most of the time. Thanks for your patience, dear reader. I hope your day is going well and that you have something to look forward to that brings you joy, even if it's two parties you've been invited to.

Another Adorable Grandson to Love! Also, My Updated Bulgogi Fries Recipe

 My newest grandson, Patrick (or Bam-Bam, as he will be called from now on), made his appearance into the world very recently. The delivery was long but normal, though Sophia's epidural leaked twice, which caused her legs to go completely numb while she still felt most of the final pain and pressure of delivery. Unpleasant, yes, but she will still consider having more children, so that's a win.

At nine pounds, this little guy is as strong as he is handsome. 

He's little, but he's already throwing hands! 

Bam-Bam's dad is a weight lifter and long-time jui jitsu student, so Bam-Bam practicing his fighting skills both in and out of the womb seems par for the course. Also, doesn't the little guy look just like his dad? 

Right after he was born, Bam-Bam spent a good thirty seconds just holding his head up and staring at his beautiful mama. He continues to enjoy staring at his mama every chance he gets.

Matt and Sophia went about forty-eight hours without sleep before the delivery, so I have spent lots of time after they got home from the hospital holding my beautiful, amazing little grandson so they could nap and take showers or get in a workout (Matt). Bam-Bam is still sleeping most of the time, but when he is awake and alert, you can tell he's got all the cogs and wheels turning. He's a smart kid. Yes, I'm biased, but I have not been wrong yet about any of my grandsons being very bright. 

Speaking of my other grandsons, Siân brought her three boys over yesterday to hang out for the afternoon. They have really been missing me and Husband even though we have visited their new house several times (we often accidentally drop in at nap time). We spent a fun afternoon with them, and the littlest one was my little buddy the whole time because he's still a Nanna's boy. Nicholas, the two-year-old, absolutely adores his Grampy, so he and Husband spent a lot of time "playing" board and card games and chasing each other around, shrieking with delight. 

I asked Husband what I could cook him for dinner for Father's Day. That's about all I can offer in the way of gifts because Husband is very hard to shop for; fortunately, Husband is happily satisfied with having his favorite meal cooked for him. He asked for my version of K-Pop fries, which is his current favorite. 

I've previously posted the recipe I've used for our version of these Korean-American fusion fries, but I've changed it up a little bit since then. I thought I would post the newest version here. The inspiration for this recipe comes from a restaurant called Bumblebee, a Utah-based Korean-American fusion fast food place (which isn't at all like Cupbob). Bumblebee used to have three locations, but the one closest to us has since shut down, which is a shame. I don't know if the other two are still in operation.

Bulgogi Fries

Flavorful bulgogi beef sprinkled over crispy-creamy roast potatoes, smothered in melted cheese, and topped with fry sauce, unagi sauce, and green onions.

Serves 5-6

5 lbs roasted potatoes (recipe below), or 1 2-lb package frozen seasoned fries

2 cups grated sharp Cheddar cheese

14-oz or 16-oz package frozen Philly cheesesteak-style shredded sirloin, or 1 pound ground beef

1/4 cup soy sauce

2 Tbsp brown sugar

2 cloves minced garlic

1 Tbsp minced fresh ginger, or 1 tsp dry ground ginger

1/4 tsp red chili flakes, or to taste

Fry sauce (recipe below)

Unagi sushi sauce (optional)

Sliced green onions 

1. Begin preparing the roast potatoes about 90 minutes before you want to eat. They are worth the effort! Alternatively, get the frozen, seasoned french fries into the oven and cook according to package directions about 20 minutes before you want to eat.

2. Brown the Philly cheesesteak meat or ground beef. Mix the soy sauce, brown sugar, garlic, ginger, and chili flakes in a bowl and add the mixture to the meat when it is almost done cooking. Let simmer on a low heat until everything is ready to assemble.

3. When the potatoes are done, plate a portion and top the potatoes with some cheese and hot bulgogi meat. You can let the heat of the other ingredients melt the cheese or you can stick the plate under the broiler for about 30 seconds to one minute to melt the cheese and crisp the meat a little bit. Top with plenty of fry sauce, some unagi sushi sauce (optional), and sprinkle with green onions. Eat immediately!

Roast Potatoes

5 lbs yellow potatoes, like Yukon Gold 

Salt

2 tsp baking soda

Oil

Garlic powder (do not use fresh garlic, which will burn and go bitter)

1. Preheat oven to 425 deg. F.

2. Fill a large pot with water, leaving enough room for potatoes to be added. Heavily salt the water and bring to a boil.

2. Meanwhile, peel and wash potatoes. Cut them into large chunks (quarter larger potatoes and halve smaller potatoes) as they will lose a lot of volume during cooking.

3. When the water is boiling, add the baking soda and carefully add the potato chunks.

4. Let the potatoes boil until they are barely fork tender. Drain them, rough them up a bit so they get a little mushy on the outsides, and put them into a large bowl. 

5. Stir in some oil (a couple Tbsp or so), salt, and garlic powder. 

6. Oil a jelly roll pan (12" x 17"), a full-sheet pan, or two cookie sheets using a cooking brush. Pour the potatoes onto the pan(s) and separate the pieces as much as possible (crowded potatoes don't get crispy on the outside). Put them into the heated oven for 25 minutes.

7. When 25 minutes are up, pull the pan out of the oven and flip the potato pieces. Turn the oven heat down to 375 deg. F and cook the potatoes for another 30-35 minutes. Serve hot.

Fry Sauce (fry sauce is truly a Utah thing, and many restaurants offer their version of fry sauce)

1 cup mayonnaise

3/4 cup ketchup or BBQ sauce (BBQ sauce makes a slightly sweeter and smokier fry sauce)

Salt and pepper

2 Tbsp dill pickle brine or tamed jalapeños brine (the liquid in the jar)

1. Mix all ingredients together, adding salt and pepper to taste. Adjust ingredients to get the flavor you like best. I use a mixing cup/bowl with a spout so I can pour the sauce into a squirt bottle for even distribution across the fries. 

I also made a white Texas sheet cake, which Husband requested specifically. 

Playing House Yet Again

 Summer holidays are here, and none too soon!

Sophia is heavily pregnant and ready to pop. Her little boy has accommodated his parents' health insurance concerns by remaining cozily in the womb until June, when Matt's insurance coverage from his new job kicked in. Thanks, Baby Patrick! He can come any time now, and Sophia is ready for him to quick kicking her so hard from the inside. The baby has dropped, and Sophia has been having irregular contractions for days now, so it could happen very soon!

Siân, Nathan, and their sweet little boys have moved into their rental home in The Big City. Fortunately, the home is a good fit for them with three bedrooms and a very large main floor containing a front room, a large kitchen, and a large family room. We already had our first family gathering there for Siân's birthday. Unfortunately, I no longer get to see and play with my darling grandsons every day. Fortunately, there is the Marco Polo app, which keeps us connected and lets me see their adorable faces and hear their adorable messages to me. 

Siân sent this picture of the littlest one's new facial expression he's been practicing. It looks like a few more of his teeth have finally popped through!

With our home much less populated and so sadly quiet, Husband and I and the boys (Joseph and Gary) have done some furniture shuffling. All four girls are married off and in homes of their own, and I am now the only woman around here (and I have an entire craft room all to myself), so the family room has been turned into the ultimate man cave: a 70-inch TV, all the game consoles, two reclining couches, a dart board, the board games collection, and a drinks fridge. We will also put in a bed for guests, and I want the long wall under the HVAC soffit to be lined with shelves for food storage, in front of which I will hang a nice curtain to keep things neat and tidy. 

The Man Cave: a work in progress or manly perfection in its austere simplicity? The boys want to add a coffee table that will serve as a board games table in front of the couches.

I want shelves all along this wall for food storage, and I will cover the food storage with curtains to hide it away. 

This basement room has been a bedroom or an office multiple times in times past. It is now going to become the exercise room. We still have a couple more pieces of equipment to move in here and to mount a TV.

On the main floor, we have thinned the amount of seating and changed the furniture around a bit. I'm going for an English country vibe, but I, admittedly, have more mid-century modern furniture than overstuffed sofas and a hoard of chintz. 

I am not a great photographer with my phone -- sorry in advance!

We replaced the TV cabinet that was moved downstairs to the Man Cave with a mid-mod dresser that Siân and Nathan didn't want to take with them. It's a little worse for wear, but I plan on trying a refurbishment on it to re-stain the wood and replace the terrible drawer pulls someone installed in the past. The chair in the foreground looks more blue in the photo than it does in real life (where it is much more green). Those chairs are way too bling-y and modern to be English country, but they are comfortable and I can slipcover them if I want. The tchochkes on the dresser are awaiting a new home (Husband's grandfather's mining lamp, a couple old bottles from England, and a Toby mug I found on our last trip). You can see Husband's Cadillac of massage chairs lurking in the background. It will stay where it is because there is no way we're attempting to move that super-heavy behemoth up- or downstairs. Husband uses it all the time anyway, so we will leave it. I was experimenting with floral arrangements, so I spray painted some truly hideous thrifted early-2000's tall metal vases with matte copper spray paint and added some fun fake flowers.

With the two two-seater couches gone, we were able to pull the living room seating in a little closer and cozier. We don't have a coffee table, so we've been using TV trays for laptops or snacks. I will be hanging floor-length drapes on both living room windows. The wood slat blinds are fine for blocking light and creating privacy, but I want some billowy fabric to make the scene even cozier. 

Marmite the Dog approves of the blue-green chairs. I found the rug at an industrial supply discount store, and when we got to the register, it turned out that all rugs were 50% off that day. What a nice surprise! It isn't as large as I'd like, but I've checked into layering it over a much larger sisal or low-pile rug and choked at the cost. I plan on re-covering the throw pillows, and that's where I can bring in some chintz. 

The entryway situation is still cluttered. I have a full bookcase plus more stacks of piano music; the coat closet needs to be sorted out so shoes and the vacuum cleaner can easily fit in there; I will get rid of that side table; and we have two white-painted rattan chairs that were Husband's grandmother's from the 1930s. They are neither pretty nor sturdy, but they are family heirlooms gifted to us by Husband's parents, and I'm not sure what to do with them. My thought for the music books was to surround the closet door with custom shelves and put the family tchochkes on a shelf above the door for display.

The cabinet at the top of the basement stairs was made by Husband's great-grandfather and brought to the States when his parents moved here in 2012. They gave it to us when they moved to Indiana, and MIL gifted me some of her mother's china and some other special plates. I also have the ivy salad plates from my own grandmother's collection on display. We don't have a window by the front door, which is so annoying, so we hung a round mirror to be a sort of faux window and bounce some light around.

Husband is currently crafting a cabinet room divider for me. I don't love open-concept, and I want something to break the view from the living room to the kitchen/dining area. It will make the living room more cozy and also increase storage on the kitchen side. Husband thrifted a cabinet and a set of shelves that were roughly the same size, and he has been working on putting them together and making them look like a cohesive unit. I'll post the pics when it's done and installed.

We were laughing yesterday that we will never have the problem of living in a space that is static and dated. We are always changing things up to fit the current situation, and that is fun because we get to use our imaginations and ingenuity to come up with new ideas on a tight budget. The older we get, however, the harder it is to move all this stuff around--but that is where our sons and sons-in-law come in super handy.

I have been taking piano lessons for a few months now, and the lessons have really helped me play better. My teacher, Michael, is a wealth of knowledge. Michael is also a close neighbor, which is very convenient. He completed a degree in music theory in addition to piano performance, and music theory is something I have been studying on my own. It's not an easy thing to learn, and sometimes I ask a question and we get so involved in the answer that we find the lesson is over before we know it. I have to set timers so we can also include piano playing instruction as well; but even with those diversions, my playing has definitely improved as he helps me fill in technical knowledge gaps and change bad habits. My improvements have been a true joy for me. 

My voice has not healed at all, and though I have been invited to go back to the choir as a tenor (wouldn't that be weird!), I think I will stick with piano and cello for now. 

We have plenty of indoor and outdoor projects to keep us busy all summer, along with the anticipation of welcoming two new grandsons. I am so excited to meet them! 

 

The News (in Short)

 It's a bit late, but happy new year!

Some of the latest news: 

1. I am now running two seminaries instead of just one. The addition of another seminary came with a pay and title bump, which is a definite pro. I do enjoy the challenge, and I enjoy working with the new faculty. My original faculty are not the happiest that they have to share me, but they're kind about it. The con is that, because I am splitting my week between the seminaries, I feel like I'm always walking into either seminary and faculty mid-sentence and have to figure out what I've missed through context. 

2. Two of my daughters are expecting. Sophia is pregnant with her first baby, a little boy, and Siân is pregnant with her fourth baby. She's hoping it's a girl, but we don't know yet. Sophia is due in June, and Siân is due in August. I am thrilled for both little miracles!

3. Siân and Nathan and kids will be finding a house to rent when the school year ends as they have run out of room for beds/cribs in our basement. This is sad for me. Very sad. Happy for them to have more room, but sad for me.

I'm struggling a bit, which is why it's taken me so long to post anything. I'm just going to post this before I think about it too much. More later. I hope you are doing well, dear reader. 

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.