My dad sent an email today that had a bunch of cute stories (supposedly) about grandchildren. A couple of them were really cute:
"She was in the bathroom, putting on her makeup, under the watchful eyes of her young granddaughter, as she'd done many times before. After she applied her lipstick and started to leave, the little one said, "But Gramma, you forgot to kiss the toilet paper good-bye!"
I will probably never put lipstick on again without thinking about kissing the toilet paper good-bye..."
and another:
"After putting her grandchildren to bed, a grandmother changed into old slacks and a droopy blouse and proceeded to wash her hair.. As she heard the children getting more and more rambunctious, her patience grew thin. Finally, she threw a towel around her head and stormed into their room, putting them back to bed with stern warnings.
As she left the room, she heard the three-year-old say with a trembling voice,
"Who was THAT?"
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Another Career Shift
Ed's finally decided what to do for the next couple of years until he can retire--he's going to start doing massage therapy again. He's an incredible therapist, and even after two years of not doing massages he's still getting calls from people begging him to do it again.
He decided the heavy-duty handyman projects requiring more than one person are now just too hard on his body. So he's going to keep doing the smaller projects but just ones he can do by himself. He's hoping to do a couple of days of massages and three days of handyman projects. That doesn't usually quite work out because while he'd prefer to do massages during the day, most people have jobs or other responsibilities and need to come at night. But that's definitely easier on him than the hard physical labor.
Some of Ed's challenges come from the blood thinner. Ed's had Fibromyalgia for nearly 20 years now, and while he's been able to do a lot of things to improve his situation, it's certainly never been cleared. Making these hard demands on his body really aggravates the pain, but Ibuprofen was able to make it bearable. Unfortunately, Ibuprofen is a blood thinner, so he can't take it while he's taking Coumadin for the blood clots. So, they're giving him Lortab for the Fibromyalgia pain. Not good.
He's struggled with seasonal allergies for years, but now he has asthma all the time. And of course right now is the worst of the allergy season. Poor guy. He talks about wishing he could just die and be free of the pain, and sometimes I can sympathize with him. But most of the time I'm selfish and tell him he has to stay. He just thinks I'm unfeeling. =D
He decided the heavy-duty handyman projects requiring more than one person are now just too hard on his body. So he's going to keep doing the smaller projects but just ones he can do by himself. He's hoping to do a couple of days of massages and three days of handyman projects. That doesn't usually quite work out because while he'd prefer to do massages during the day, most people have jobs or other responsibilities and need to come at night. But that's definitely easier on him than the hard physical labor.
Some of Ed's challenges come from the blood thinner. Ed's had Fibromyalgia for nearly 20 years now, and while he's been able to do a lot of things to improve his situation, it's certainly never been cleared. Making these hard demands on his body really aggravates the pain, but Ibuprofen was able to make it bearable. Unfortunately, Ibuprofen is a blood thinner, so he can't take it while he's taking Coumadin for the blood clots. So, they're giving him Lortab for the Fibromyalgia pain. Not good.
He's struggled with seasonal allergies for years, but now he has asthma all the time. And of course right now is the worst of the allergy season. Poor guy. He talks about wishing he could just die and be free of the pain, and sometimes I can sympathize with him. But most of the time I'm selfish and tell him he has to stay. He just thinks I'm unfeeling. =D
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Cedar City Trip
April 18, 2009
I had a conference this week. I'm on the board of directors, and we put it together. Ed and I left on Tuesday and returned on Friday. It was a very long week, but I think the conference went well. Our education committee did a great job, and the classes were very good. I'm so fortunate to work with such a great group of women on the board, who worked so very hard running around and doing everything that needed to be done. They are fabulous!!
Since it was spring break for our oldest granddaughter, we brought Sienna with us. She and Ed spent a lot of time at the swimming pool--her being a little fish in the main pool and Ed in the spa. I, of course, was in classes all day.
We visited the Iron Mission State Park Museum where Sienna got to sit in a mock up of a stage coach. For some reason we weren't allowed to sit in the real ones! ;o) There was even a cowboy poet! I've never heard one and wasn't looking forward to this part of the evening, since I'm not really into country/western stuff, but he did a great job and the stories he told with his poetry were wonderful!! I would definitely go hear cowboy poetry again.
We had an improv group as the entertainment at our banquet on Thursday night, and Sienna got a chance to participate in one of the skits.
It was pretty cold while we were there, and we had a little snow, but it was nothing compared to the snow Orem got in our absence! I guess they had about 8 inches here, and it did a real job on a lot of the trees around town that were beginning to blossom. The purple plum tree in the front yard that was full of pink blossoms couldn't handle all that wet snow, and several branches broke off.
Ed and Robert got out there and started trimming them off and found many others that had split but not broken off. Unfortunately the tree has to go. *sob* Adam and his friend Colby help out in the picture below. The front of my house looks naked!
I had a conference this week. I'm on the board of directors, and we put it together. Ed and I left on Tuesday and returned on Friday. It was a very long week, but I think the conference went well. Our education committee did a great job, and the classes were very good. I'm so fortunate to work with such a great group of women on the board, who worked so very hard running around and doing everything that needed to be done. They are fabulous!!
Since it was spring break for our oldest granddaughter, we brought Sienna with us. She and Ed spent a lot of time at the swimming pool--her being a little fish in the main pool and Ed in the spa. I, of course, was in classes all day.
We visited the Iron Mission State Park Museum where Sienna got to sit in a mock up of a stage coach. For some reason we weren't allowed to sit in the real ones! ;o) There was even a cowboy poet! I've never heard one and wasn't looking forward to this part of the evening, since I'm not really into country/western stuff, but he did a great job and the stories he told with his poetry were wonderful!! I would definitely go hear cowboy poetry again.
We had an improv group as the entertainment at our banquet on Thursday night, and Sienna got a chance to participate in one of the skits.
It was pretty cold while we were there, and we had a little snow, but it was nothing compared to the snow Orem got in our absence! I guess they had about 8 inches here, and it did a real job on a lot of the trees around town that were beginning to blossom. The purple plum tree in the front yard that was full of pink blossoms couldn't handle all that wet snow, and several branches broke off.
Ed and Robert got out there and started trimming them off and found many others that had split but not broken off. Unfortunately the tree has to go. *sob* Adam and his friend Colby help out in the picture below. The front of my house looks naked!
Friday, April 10, 2009
Women's Annual Ritual
It's time for some levity.
The Annual Ritual of Women
I have just been through the annual pilgrimage of torture and humiliation known as buying a bathing suit. When I was a child in the 1950's the bathing costume for a woman with a mature figure was designed for a woman with a mature figure -- boned, trussed and reinforced, not so much sewn as engineered. They were built to hold back and uplift and they did a darn good job.
Today's stretch fabrics are designed for the pre-pubescent girl with a figure chipped from marble. The mature woman has a choice - she can either front up at the maternity department and try on a floral costume with a skirt, coming away looking like a hippopotamus escaped from Disney's Fantasia - or; she can wander around every run of the mill department store trying to make a sensible choice from what amounts to a designer range of fluoro rubber bands. What choice did I have?
I wandered around, made my sensible choice and entered the chamber of horrors known as the fitting room. The first thing I noticed was the extra ordinary tensile strength of the stretch material. The Lycra used in bathing suits was developed, I believe, by NASA to launch small rockets from a slingshot, which give the added bonus that if you manage to actually lever yourself into one, you are protected from shark attacks. The reason for this is that a shark taking a swipe at your passing midriff would immediately suffer whiplash.
I fought my way into the bathing costume, but as I twanged the shoulder strap into place I gasped in horror - my bosom had disappeared. Eventually I found one bosom cowering under my left armpit. It took a while to find the other. At last I located it flattened beside my seventh rib.
The problem is that modern bathing suits have no bra cups. The mature woman is meant to wear her bosom spread across her chest like a speed bump. I re-aligned my speed bump and lurched toward the mirror to take a full view assessment.
The bathing suit fit all right, but unfortunately it only fit those bits of me willing to stay inside it. The rest of me oozed out rebelliously from top, bottom and sides. I looked like a lump of play dough wearing undersize cling wrap.
As I tried to work out where all those extra bits had come from, the pre-pubescent salesgirl popped her head through the curtains. "Oh, it is YOU!" she said, admiring the suit. I replied that I wasn't so sure.
I tried on a cream crinkled one that made me look like a lump of masking tape, and a floral two piece which gave the appearance of an oversize napkin in a serviette ring. I struggled into leopard skin suit with a ragged frill and came out looking like Tarzan's Jane on a bad day. I tried a black number with a midriff and looked like a jellyfish in mourning. I tried on a bright pink pair with such a high cut leg I thought I would have to wax my eyebrows to wear it.
Finally I found a suit that fit. A two piece affair with shorts-style bottoms and a halter top. It was cheap, comfortable and bulge-friendly, so I bought it.
When I got home I read the label which said 'Material may become transparent in water", but I'm determined to wear it anyway. I just have to learn to breaststroke in the sand.
--Author Unknown (but she's got a great sense of humor!)
The Annual Ritual of Women
I have just been through the annual pilgrimage of torture and humiliation known as buying a bathing suit. When I was a child in the 1950's the bathing costume for a woman with a mature figure was designed for a woman with a mature figure -- boned, trussed and reinforced, not so much sewn as engineered. They were built to hold back and uplift and they did a darn good job.
Today's stretch fabrics are designed for the pre-pubescent girl with a figure chipped from marble. The mature woman has a choice - she can either front up at the maternity department and try on a floral costume with a skirt, coming away looking like a hippopotamus escaped from Disney's Fantasia - or; she can wander around every run of the mill department store trying to make a sensible choice from what amounts to a designer range of fluoro rubber bands. What choice did I have?
I wandered around, made my sensible choice and entered the chamber of horrors known as the fitting room. The first thing I noticed was the extra ordinary tensile strength of the stretch material. The Lycra used in bathing suits was developed, I believe, by NASA to launch small rockets from a slingshot, which give the added bonus that if you manage to actually lever yourself into one, you are protected from shark attacks. The reason for this is that a shark taking a swipe at your passing midriff would immediately suffer whiplash.
I fought my way into the bathing costume, but as I twanged the shoulder strap into place I gasped in horror - my bosom had disappeared. Eventually I found one bosom cowering under my left armpit. It took a while to find the other. At last I located it flattened beside my seventh rib.
The problem is that modern bathing suits have no bra cups. The mature woman is meant to wear her bosom spread across her chest like a speed bump. I re-aligned my speed bump and lurched toward the mirror to take a full view assessment.
The bathing suit fit all right, but unfortunately it only fit those bits of me willing to stay inside it. The rest of me oozed out rebelliously from top, bottom and sides. I looked like a lump of play dough wearing undersize cling wrap.
As I tried to work out where all those extra bits had come from, the pre-pubescent salesgirl popped her head through the curtains. "Oh, it is YOU!" she said, admiring the suit. I replied that I wasn't so sure.
I tried on a cream crinkled one that made me look like a lump of masking tape, and a floral two piece which gave the appearance of an oversize napkin in a serviette ring. I struggled into leopard skin suit with a ragged frill and came out looking like Tarzan's Jane on a bad day. I tried a black number with a midriff and looked like a jellyfish in mourning. I tried on a bright pink pair with such a high cut leg I thought I would have to wax my eyebrows to wear it.
Finally I found a suit that fit. A two piece affair with shorts-style bottoms and a halter top. It was cheap, comfortable and bulge-friendly, so I bought it.
When I got home I read the label which said 'Material may become transparent in water", but I'm determined to wear it anyway. I just have to learn to breaststroke in the sand.
--Author Unknown (but she's got a great sense of humor!)
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
I Suck. Now Everybody Knows . . .
I've gotten feedback lately that I should have gone to the hospital with Ed, when he went rather than letting Robert talk me into staying home. So, the consensus is in. I suck. I know it. Ed knows it.
In some things I'm just a wimp, and I admit it. My mother died of a brain tumor, when I was 14. That was a very hard time in my life. My poor dad was commuting between San Francisco (Treasure Island Navy Base where he was stationed) and Sacramento, where the rest of the family was living. My parents had opted to do this for the school year, because we'd just come back from two years in the Philippines, and it was my brother's senior year. We'd lived in Sacramento before moving to the P.I. and still owned a home there. That way my brother could at least go to school with kids he'd known earlier.
Unbeknownst to us my mother had been struggling with the brain tumor since we'd lived in the P.I. She had bouts with the slowly growing tumor that were terribly painful--dreadful headaches. That was such a hard time, to be there with her when she was hurting so much and being helpless to do anything for her.
Ed was in a lot of pain (even the nurses were feeling bad for him once he was admitted). I cannot imagine having had to sit there with him, once again being completely helpless. Robert is much tougher in some things, and this is one of them. So I admit it--I suck. I chickened out and let Robert go in my place.
I'm just very thankful that Ed wasn't taken "Home" at this time. It would have been bad enough to lose him without feeling guilty again for not having been there with him.
In some things I'm just a wimp, and I admit it. My mother died of a brain tumor, when I was 14. That was a very hard time in my life. My poor dad was commuting between San Francisco (Treasure Island Navy Base where he was stationed) and Sacramento, where the rest of the family was living. My parents had opted to do this for the school year, because we'd just come back from two years in the Philippines, and it was my brother's senior year. We'd lived in Sacramento before moving to the P.I. and still owned a home there. That way my brother could at least go to school with kids he'd known earlier.
Unbeknownst to us my mother had been struggling with the brain tumor since we'd lived in the P.I. She had bouts with the slowly growing tumor that were terribly painful--dreadful headaches. That was such a hard time, to be there with her when she was hurting so much and being helpless to do anything for her.
Ed was in a lot of pain (even the nurses were feeling bad for him once he was admitted). I cannot imagine having had to sit there with him, once again being completely helpless. Robert is much tougher in some things, and this is one of them. So I admit it--I suck. I chickened out and let Robert go in my place.
I'm just very thankful that Ed wasn't taken "Home" at this time. It would have been bad enough to lose him without feeling guilty again for not having been there with him.
Monday, April 6, 2009
General Conference
Once again, it was a wonderful General Conference. I don't know why, since it's been 12 years since I worked for the Office of the Twelve, but I'm always surprised by how old some of the Twelve are looking. *sigh*
I was especially impressed by (I think) Elder Oaks talk where he compares debt with addiction. That is really hitting the nail on the head, in my opinion.
And Elder Holland made me cry--again!
I was especially impressed by (I think) Elder Oaks talk where he compares debt with addiction. That is really hitting the nail on the head, in my opinion.
And Elder Holland made me cry--again!
Sunday, March 29, 2009
"Papa"
We watched two of our grandkids on Saturday, so their mom could go to lunch with some friends. Tyson put on Ed's (giant) dog slippers and sat at his desk and said that he (Tyson) was now Papa. Well Savie bought into it, and she would come up to "Papa" and ask for chips or cookies. Ed is notorious for having secret stashes of treats, and the grandkids always know there's a treat in store if they see their Papa.
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