Picture story

Late this morning, the wind picked up and blew, blew, blew. It blew me to my car. It blew me to my company's West Jordan location to work on some network stuff. It blew me home for lunch. It blew some shingles off my neighbors' house. It blew some neighborhood fences down. It blew me back to work. And then it blew in a gigantic snowstorm.

I do mean gigantic. Like, it has hardly snowed all winter long, and now this snowstorm is completely making up for 4 months of empty skies. It is practically a blizzard out there and Ryan and I are basically snowed in, even with a Jeep and 4-wheel drive and everything.

The snowstorm cancelled our plans to go see Ryan's brother, Doug, up in Ogden tonight. Doug is extremely ill and is staying in the ICU. His condition is so grave that on Monday, we were told he may not make it through the night. Since then, the family has gathered and we've been pretty much camped out at the hospital, hoping and praying that Doug's condition will improve. Words cannot express how almost hysterical we have been about this. He is finally showing some improvement. His condition is still extremely grave but at least we now have some hope. So please... if you are the praying type, keep praying for Doug. We don't want to lose him. Not yet.

So with this free evening on my hands, I almost don't know what to do with myself. I had planned on being with Doug and the family. Instead, I will catch you up with a picture story. 

I'll start with Doug. I had posted his situation on FB and asked friends and family for prayers. I was overwhelmed with the response we received. I then posted this picture so people who are praying for him, but who don't know him, can see what Doug looks like. (Thank you, dear friends!)

Moving on...

Back in December, the kids came to be with us for Christmas. Blurry picture or no, I love this one.

I made chocolaty peppermint cupcakes for Nathan's birthday. He said he wasn't a huge fan of chocolate cake... until he ate these. They taste like whoopie pies. Mmmmm.

Carmie Jones chilling out on the recliner. I love this doggy. Jonesy!

In January, I went to Wisconsin for 8 days to care for my mom after she had a full knee replacement. One day after physical therapy, when she was feeling very blue and in pain, I took her to eat pho for the first time. It picked her spirits right up!

My Jeep hit 111,777 miles in February. She's a good little Jeep.

Dizzydoggy. Need I say more?

Ryan buying our very favorite crackers. We love them so much that documentation was required.

Sarah and me at Bar X. We have been friends forever and I have almost no pictures of her. Geez.

Ryan and Diana, also at Bar X. Super fun couple!

The Valentine's Day dinner that I made for Ryan. Lamb, baby potatoes, and asparagus. Why go out to eat when you can cook shiz like this? Nom nom nom.

Ryan's Uncle Don passed away toward the end of February so we drove up to Victor, Idaho for the funeral. A lot of family was there, including Anita, Doug, and Brenda. I love this picture taken in Dad's basement. Nita... love the scarf!

My niece Taylor and her little brother, Garrett. Garrett was channeling his alter-ego, Becca. He even wore Taylor's sparkly shoes. LOVE.

After the funeral, everyone drove back to our house in the WJ. Here are our nephews, Garrett and Hunter. They get so excited playing the Xbox that they stand up and jump all around the room.

After all these years, I still love Mary Janes. I just had to buy these ones the moment I saw them. Love, love, love. LOVE!

And last but not least, we went to Salsa Leedos last weekend with Sarah, Jonathan, Natalie, and Alex. Jonathan took about 15 pictures of us in the lobby. He couldn't figure out how to work his camera. I think this was about picture #15. Do we look like we're tired of smiling yet?

Time Means Nothing

But if we have to go now,
I guess there's always hope that,
Some place will be serving after hours.


This night is winding down but
Time means nothing,
As always at this hour
Time means nothing.
One final final round 'cause
Time means nothing.


Say that you'll stay.

I wasn't a girl who dated much in high school. And when I say I didn't date much, what I really mean is that I had about 3 dates total.

It wasn't that I didn't like boys. And I don't think that it means that they didn't like me. But when it came to that stuff, I was really unconfident. I was different. I wasn't a tanned, blonde cheerleader. I didn't drive a convertible. Encouraged by a mom who believed in natural beauty, I didn't wear lots of makeup and my hair wasn't frosted. I loved music and reading and writing and French. I swayed to the Cure and Depeche Mode and REM while my peers danced to MC Hammer, Guns N Roses, and Color Me Badd.  I shied away from sports and feigned disinterest because of my clumsiness. And with my tongue tied in knots, I couldn't come up with quick, flirty nothings to say to the football and hockey players until after the moment had passed.

Mostly content with crushing on guys in secret, going to church dances with my girlfriends, and hanging out with a mix of good friends at the lake and the park and the Blue Mountain Coffee House, I passed up a few chances (only a few, mind you) to date a few pretty cool guys. A few times I just wasn't interested enough. And a few times I was too scared. I was more comfortable laughing and listening to records and doing silly things with friends than taking the risk of ever pursuing the guys I so desperately liked in secret.

In the fall of 1992,  I moved away from the comfortable shores of Lake Minnetonka to attend a big university in Utah. It was 1300 miles away from home and different from anything I had ever experienced. To my delight, suddenly I wasn't the only one who had ever heard Swan Swan H or knew all the lyrics to Pictures of You. There were so many kids from different states and different countries, all with different types of families and friends and experiences. It was like being set free! I made friends with cool guys in my French class. I struck up conversations with new people on my way past the Bell Tower walking back to my dorm room. I made friends in line to attend foreign films at the International Cinema Club. I went dancing with my new friends... dances that had different rooms for different types of music, like the mod room, and the hip hop room, and the country room. I met slews of people who loved the songs as I did! And they didn't expect me to know the words to stupid Can't Touch This or know that ridiculous Electric Slide dance.

I got over my fear of talking to boys. I learned to flirt. I got asked on dates. I marveled at the pure and simple joy of my new life. Best of all, in the last few weeks of my freshman year, a guy I had a huge crush on suddenly had a crush on me. Finally it was a crush worth risking.

We ate together in the Morris Center, my crush and I. We studied with friends and flirted on the 4th floor of the library. We watched movies in the WILK. We gazed at the stars and declared a planet (Venus?) "my star." We walked in the rain up 9th East. We talked and talked. As the hours passed, building after building closed, shutting us out from the library, the dorm lobbies, the student center, and the cafeteria. We wandered the ghostly campus and the streets surrounding BYU, talking and laughing and holding hands, until the wee hours of the morning. We sought shelter from the chilly April nights as our discussions carried on through the night. I'd make it back to my dorm room around 3 or 4 am each night and lie in bed, smiling, thinking of how fun it was. And one night, in Kiwanis Park, as we faced each other sitting cross-legged in the grass, he leaned forward and gave me a short, sweet kiss.

There were more kisses to follow, and more walks and talks during those few short weeks. But it's that first kiss that has stayed with me. And really, wasn't just the kiss or just the guy. It was the whole, new, sweet set of experiences. That search for for shelter late at night... the cool night air... the stars... sharing my star with him... the frost on the grass... my cold hands being warmed in his... the talks... the realization that not only did I like him, but he liked me... and the feeling of actually wanting it to happen. This friendship. This crush. These feelings.

It lasted only a few weeks... a few glorious weeks that sparkle in my memory as my favorite part of college.

So where is he now? I really have no idea, and I actually haven't thought of him or that experience in quite a while. We lost touch after I got married and the memories were tucked away because really, it wasn't about him. It was about the moment.

Thanks, cjane, for inspiring me to write this. And thanks, We Are Scientists, for writing a song that speaks to my experience.

Monday nights

Since last December, I've been driving downtown to spend my Monday evenings with the dogs. Homeless dogs, that is - I'm a volunteer for No More Homeless Pets.

My volunteering started out pretty simply. About 5 years ago, my friend Maranda, who works for NMHP, needed people to work the payment booth at an adoption event. The requirements were simple - we needed to commit to 4 hours on a Saturday or Sunday and we needed to know how to use a computer. We wouldn't be working directly with the animals, just manning the payment station. This was a good fit for me. I have such a bleeding heart when it comes to animals that I was happy to volunteer for the organization but stay somewhat removed from the dogs that I knew I would surely fall in love with and want to bring home.

From there I've had varying degrees of involvement with NMHP. I typically work every Super Pet Adoption and do my payment station stuff. Once I helped distribute fliers and posters for another adoption event. Another time I did some work for the Canine Casino Night.

And then last December, something changed. I decided I wanted to be more involved... so I volunteered to do a weekly shift at the NMHP kennel that houses homeless dogs.

I really enjoy my Monday night work. My shift goes something like this: Upon my arrival, I let out each dog (one at a time) to go potty. After the potty break, I feed each dog. When they are done eating, I let them out for playtime (once again, one at a time). We play ball or Frisbee, we run around the yard, the dogs chase my flashlight if they're the type of dog that enjoys chasing lights, and I pet and cuddle the dogs so they get some attention and affection. I pick up poop and clean up any accidents that may be in the kennels. Before I leave, I usually give the dogs a toy such as a Kong or a rawhide, and I wash out their bowls.

Yes, it's a commitment, and it's a bit of a drive to get downtown, but it's pretty simple. It makes a difference to the dogs, and it makes a difference to me. My heart has really opened up to helping other living beings. It feels good to work with the animals and care for someone and something other than just my comfortable surroundings.

The dog pictured above is Tiki. She's a sweet, friendly, pretty lab that has been at the shelter for almost 2 months now. There haven't been any dogs that I don't like, though honestly, some I like more than others. Tiki has a soft place in my heart. I love her fun personality. She has mellowed out and learned some manners in the time she's been with NMHP. I'll be happy to see her find a home, and I'll be sad to see her go. She'll make a really great pet for someone.

I committed to volunteering for 2 months, but I've decided to stay on longer. I'm so glad I decided to make the leap. It brings me happiness every week.

Are you looking for a way to spread more love? Let me know, and I'll hook you up at the shelter.