Brought to you today by the #1, and the letter J...

Yes.... I am human.... And, believe it or not, I think that every once in a while, that revelation comes as a surprise to me. Why should I have to set goals? I can just WILL things into being the way I want them too, right?

I remember a conversation I once had with my then sister in law Erica. We were talking about willpower. She said something to the effect that she has always felt that she could overcome any sort of challenge by a brute show of will power. She used the example of cancer. I remember her squinting up her face, and making a sound like she was grunting, to illustrate such will power. I remember that struck such a cord with me. Being of the Walt Disney, the "if you dream it, and wish hard enough, you can have whatever you want" generation, I then set a course to will whatever I surveyed into submission... My weight? SUBMITTED, my husband, and his own free will and ability to think for himself? SUBMITTED (poor guy)

Now, I will be the first to admit that I was a *teensy* bit controlling. Which, if anyone else has ever struggled with that issue, it's hard to even realize what you are doing to the people around you. But, I digress, that's another topic for a different day.

The point I'm trying to make is that I had the idea that I could, through sheer power of mind and will, make everything right that I perceived to be "wrong" in my life... Well, fast forward a little while, and I rapidly figured out exactly what happens when a person tries to control everything, even her feelings... Feelings are interesting things.... They form, sometimes independently of what is going on in our conscious minds. I had to work very hard to "will" out of my head that constant, niggling, worming thought that maybe my situation wasn't right, or happy, and that my husband was not the person that I had formed him into in my mind. We all deal with feelings in different ways. If we had open, loving, supportive families, we are taught that our feelings matter, and that it's ok to vent them, little bits at a time, so that they never build up. Well, I am not one of those kinds of people. I am the kind of person who would rather ignore them, and pretend that I'm fine, in which case, they silently build, and build, and build until I have a meltdown, because of the pressure.

Applying this to my life, oh, say 1996-2006, I was stuck in a VERY stressful marriage, with some major issues, that I was busy trying to ignore... I am a balance person, meaning an imbalance in one part of my life, throws off everything.. Being very much a creature of habit, when I'm feeling so crappy inside, and I'm too afraid to explore those feelings, and fix the problem, so I go into "potato bug mode".

(If you've ever seen one of those little bugs curl up into a hard ball when they perceive a threat, you know what I mean.) Thus, and we all know it takes somewhere around 21 days to form a good habit, and something like 4 to break a good habit... Back in the good 'ole days, I would lay in bed for days at a time, feeling just downright crappy. SO, my good habits of daily laundry, and dishes, and cleaning went out the window. SO, as you can all guess, my habit then became ignoring the messes, and work to be done, and complacency became a big habit in my life...

Well, due to the fact that I had been practicing HARD how to ignore the bad feelings in my life, I also started to ignore ANY feelings, even the good ones. I woke up one day, fat, and lazy, dirty kids, filthy house, and headed nowhere fast. I realized, *defining moment alert* that will power wasn't going to make the problem going away, and I also realized that I was going to have to deal with things, and make some changes, and most of all, WORK. They were life altering changes, and it was like being at the foot of Everest, and knowing that I wasn't going to be fully happy until I reached the top... This is where the will power comes in... I also realized that I HATE changes... I found myself packed up, and moving my kids and I 400 miles away from my husband, and our crumbling marriage, to a new job, and a new life. It was scary. That was almost 4 years ago, and I think I'm just now getting myself to uncurl from my potato bug ball. I've recently realized that I've become out of touch with my feelings again, and instead of having a giant meltdown, I've been "eating my feelings"... WHAT?! When did I become that person? I am realizing that I have developed a subconscious aversion to anything that resembles my life then, (before the move, and the marriage breakup), the good and the bad.

I have been evaluating the things that need to be fixed at this point in time... 1. I need to loose the 45 extra pounds I've "found" in the last 2 years. And not because I'm vain, because I hate the way I look and feel. 2. I need to form some good, daily housekeeping habits again. I loved my house that my husband and I shared in my "back then" life, and due to certain circumstances in that relationship, I left it, because it was about to become "not ours" in a big hurry. I don't think I got enough closure in that area, and that's subconsciously manifested in the fact that I hate cleaning this little, stinky, messy house, and I avoid it like the plague. I used to love cleaning. 3. I need to get back in some daily routine habits. I love pilates, and used to work out daily. I used to study the scriptures for hours at a time. Now it's a huge struggle...

So, after that rambling discourse on nothing of any particular importance to anyone but me, here is the real purpose of this whole thing... I have a wonderful husband, and despite all the little things that go wrong in EVERY ONE'S lives, I am happier than I have ever imagined I could be, in the relationship area. I think it's time to close the door on all that bad stuff, and time to move on...

Starting today, as day #1, I am proclaiming to myself, (and you), that I am going to work on all these things again for 21 days straight, to see where I end up at the end of the 21 days. Are you with me?

Goal #1- I intend to read (at least) one chapter a day in the Book Of Mormon (instead of the 5 chapters, once a week, to feel like I'm making up for not being consistent)

Goal #2- Some exercises every day (except Sunday)

Goal # 3- Wake up early and do at least some of the housework BEFORE work, instead of after work, because it doesn't actually get done, so I have to catch up by cleaning all day at some point. Here are the things that need done daily here: AT least 2 loads of laundry, dishes (no dishwasher), sweeping (gotta love the all wood floors), and cleaning bedrooms.

I know my current jeans size, I know my current weight, so I can measure my progress. Here I sit, a few random days of exercising out of the way, but I'm going to call today, day one. It's going well, so far, I've done the scriptures, and some exercising, now on to cleaning the house. Wish me luck :0

About freakin' time, don't ya think?

Ok, so..... It's been a while, 'eh? But, oh, well, I'm, back, and will slowly try to address lost time as the memories float to the surface. I'm sitting here, cold from the tile floor slowly seeping through my socks... It's cold, and grey and yucky outside. *Que another crazy Wyoming storm*



A little back story: The girls' bedroom is about half the size that it needs to be in order for all of their stuff to fit in it, so it's been an ongoing struggle to get it clean enough for me to even go in there to clean. I can hear them in there "cleaning as I type... I just overheard "this place YUCKS!" out of Cloe.



So, to sum up the last 8 or so months in a nutshell: we saw some stuff, we won some fights, we lost some fights, we learned a lot more about each other, and ourselves, we laughed, we cried, I busted my toe, then my leg, got married, gained 35 pounds, lost 15, had some triumphs, and some tragedies, overall, I would have to give this year an overall rating of "mildly ok", with a sprinkling of happy. Here are some details as I can currently remember them:

April: broken toe, (kicking Whitney Houston)

May: officially started Dirt e Girl. Gained some weight because of inactivity due to aforementioned broken toe. Mike went to the temple for the very first time (one of my top 5 favorite experiences of all time)

June: Kids got out of school, shot a whole freakin bunch of motocross pics, busted my leg,
Charlie arrived for the summer, had several "laughsohardIthinkIwetmypantsalittle" moments, got married 4 hours after we decided to casually, Coulter went to scout camp, the girls went to visit their father for the summer, I slowly gained another few, (ok, so 20), lbs due to the super cool broken-leg-action. We did some adjusting to the new family dynamic. And Whitney Houston just kept on being her retarded self.

I hate this picture, but it's the ONLY one of us on our wedding day!

July/August: Chic and Barb came from PA for the summer, I met cousin Karol in CO Springs, we went to Yellowstone, (first time for Mike), I got some amazing, unforgettable photos, Charlie's allergies were so bad his eyes were swollen shut, (he's a delicate little fellow, in case you were wondering), I was entertained by Jack Jensen in my primary class, had another motocross race to shoot, we all did some more adjusting to married life. Charlie got to experience the wonder that is Cheyenne Frontier Days (I <3> It was a cow elk. I hobbled around on my leg, which still was extremely painful. School, and Charlie went home ( :( ), and heat, heat, heat...

September: Mike's birthday, and gardening, and work, work, work.

October: Possible swine flu, was sick for a whole week, it sucked. We harvested the garden, it froze, then got buried in snow, twice. We realized how much we love it here. (no sarcasm there)

Which brings me to today... I'm getting over last week, which I will forever refer to as "Barf-fest '09".

Or Halloween was great, and I'm happy to be closing the door on a season, and I'm looking forward to fall, and the holidays. And being better about keeping up on this :)

The Monster at the end of this book.

Another Plinky prompt: "Name a children's book that makes you nostalgic. "

Join me on a personal journey to my childhood...

I was definitely part of the "Sesame Generation". All things Grover take me right back to the feel of corduroy jeans when you run really fast, and the way brand new moon boots felt, and the smell of my moms' Impala on a hot day...


I had a pony named "Guy Smiley", and a chicken named "Louise". I could still sing the "12345678910 11, tweeee-ee-eelve" song exactly on key. I dreamed of growing up and having a fix-it shop all my own, or at least just a trash can to hang out in. I never could get why Bert was such a nerd, however. I mean, really, oatmeal is just NOT THAT GOOD, and pigeons stink! My all time favorite SS character would have to be Forgetful Jones. Honestly, how hard is it to remember that the toothbrush is to brush your own teeth?! And, oh, that mustache. That 'stache was enough for me to forever envy anyone who could grow facial hair so effortlessly... He was like the Tom Selek of the Muppet 'Hood.


I always wondered how that giant bird fit in that smallish round nest. And Remember Bad Bart? That dude could DRAW!


Of course, this is supposed to be about literature, not classic American Children's Television...


In a very cliche fashion, I loved The Diary of Anne Frank. I think, as a younger person, this was the first time that I paused for personal reflection. This was such a heart achingly sad story, and a large step backward in the story of human progression to have lost so many beautiful, unique people for such a horrific reason. And the Island of the Blue Dolphin... such beautiful imagery, I always imagined myself trying to survive in the same circumstance. I can never remember the title of that book we read in school about the boys prep school, and the tree that they jumped into the river from, and the character named Phinny. I think that book was the first taste of the delicious world of the literary arts for me. Books like The Call of the Wild, My side of the Mountain, Smoky the Cowhorse, The Taran Wanderer series, and anything by Lloyd Alexander, all served to broaden and shape my literary horizon...


A book was a wonderful companion to grow up with. Now, I think I will head to the library, I feel the hunger to dive into something new...

Uber-Marcy

Another Plinky Prompt...

The Question: Congratulations! You're going to be featured in the next issue of 'Sports Illustrated.' How does your bio read?

My answer: First of all, the sports-following world would hear about my illustrious career of tripping-and-falling. If it were possible, I would "Take State". I'm 6 feet of legs and feet, and every once in a while there is this whole brain/feet disconnect-usually at the worst possible time... Like the time I was in front of about 30 women at church, holding a folder. While I was walking, some papers fell out of the folder and I slipped on them. It was a spectacular jumble of feet and legs, paper, and dress. But, my personal gold-medal performance would have to be the "see how much flesh a treadmill belt can actually saw off my legs at number 6 speed in 60 seconds" (please see my blog for the full play-by-play of this awesome performance - www.buckydewitt.blogspot.com).

In a past life, I was a cowgirl, competing in a state level roping competition. My horse tripped while running, I flew up, out of my saddle, and landed on his neck. I rode the rest of the way that way... I lost the reigns to control the horse somewhere amid this whole scenario, so he was wandering around the arena, then he finally slowed to a stop. I hopped off, and to my surprise, walked out to the standing applause of a good 15k people. Ahh, good times :)

I love technology, but not as much as you, you see, always and forever...

I'm trying out plinky.com, with the daily "blog prompt". This was my response the question "What gadget is at the top of your wish list?" And, I guess, after all, my answer would have to be nothing. Yet, anyway...

"Oh, my goodness, I'm a techno-holic.... I got a Blackberry Curve about a year ago, my "gadget enabler" and his Best Buy account have helped out ever since with shiny, complicated new toys... I have a Palm T/x, and an Ipod touch, Recently I upgraded to a Blackberry Storm. That was where I drew the line. It was heavy, and extremely hard to use, and so much slower than my curve! And to top it all off, every time I talked on the stupid thing my ear would enable the "speakerphone" mode. I had that for a total of 24 hours and it went right back to the store. I walked out with a new pink Curve, and all is right with the world again! I'm off to mobile google anything that might strike my fancy at any given moment :)"

Of shoes, and ships, and sealing wax, of cabbages and kings...

Ok, so this post has nothing to do with any of those things, I just like that poem.

On to the good stuff!

Thanks to Michael Lee, and the ipod dock he just bought me for my office, I have been taking a musical journey lately... I have SO much music on my iopd(s), but I have had headphone/connection cable in the truck/speaker issues, so I haven't really used it much lately... It never ceases to amaze me how a song can take me right back to a place/time/feeling in my life. Some good, some bad. So, that being said, I'm sitting here, at work, working my way through the Ian Tyson playlist on shuffle mode, remembering things and places that I have seen with this music as a soundtrack, from the backseat of Virgils truck(s). Because I hate country music so much, I almost forgot how good "cowboy music" is...













I miss Greywhale CD in Ogden, Utah, they had everything you can musically think of-USED. So, for 5$, you could revisit your Senior year, or find that "one" song, from that movie, or... You get the idea. I think I'll head home now, I feel a "Pixies" mood coming on...

Names

Many of you may be wondering how we decided on http://www.buckydewitt.blogspot.com/ as the name for our blog. It all comes from my being raised in Pennsylvania by some of the funniest people in the world. Read on...this gets better....

Bucky DeWitt grew up in Benton, PA. Benn-in as I pronounce it, is about 25 miles from where I grew up in Mifflinville. My father grew up in Lightstreet. About 15 miles down Fishing Creek from Benton. Lightstreet sat right outside Bloomsburg which is where everyone in the area went for groceries or to do their shopping.

Benton is like that "Last Chance" town. Last chance for everything as you head northwest out of civilization. I bet it is still like this today.... So, if you wanted anything big, like a T.V. back in the 50's, you drove to Bloomsburg. Where I am trying to go with this is that if you were from Benton, eventually you would cross paths with people on down the creek. Bucky crossed paths with my second cousin, Shirley. Shirley and Bucky had a child and were married for a few years. As with anything, things didn't work out and they divorced. Bucky moved back to Benton and Shirley re-married Jon Turner.

Now keep this in mind, Bucky is close to my fathers age. Around the 64 year old mark right now. Anyhow, put yourself back in the '80's in the Bloomsburg area. We would go rollerskating at Dixie's Starlight Gardens and Chris would "Crazyleg" to the stylish beats of ELO, Tony Orlando and Dawn, and Donna Summers all while Bernie the skateguard kept watchful eye on us. Rumor had it that they were building a new skating rink in town....Skatetown. When it opened, it was the shizz! State of the art turntables and reel to reel that pumped through a rad soundsystem. Everyone ditched Dixie's and went to Skatetown.

Skatetown was awesome but us crazy kids were kept under control by two bad characters who wore the referee shirt...and meant business! The notorious Bucky DeWitt and his sidekick Olin "Spiderlegs" Shotwell. Bucky was the man! If a fight broke out near the snack bar, Bucky was right there to bust up the squabble and apply a liberal amount of smack-down. When the fight was over, Bucky would skate back to his position in the middle of the floor and skate slow so the 17-18 year olds could get an eye-full of his suave skating skills. Bucky took his job seriously. He would circle the center of the rink like a shark...waiting for the chance to do good and keep the patrons of Skatetown safe. If it was a slow couples skate, Bucky would bless one of his female fan club with a skate together, or he would go hang out near the DJ booth and hold the lucky gal close and "rap" with Fred the DJ.

Soon, I found better things to do than hang at Skatetown. I had my drivers license and soon was cruising Bloomsburg. My memories of Bucky faded as I found out about Stroh's 30 packs, speed metal, and easy girls from Berwick.

I joined the Navy when I was 18. I pretty much was gone for 10 years. After I got out, I moved back home and started driving truck. One morning, I was up at Kevin Ryman's waiting on a load for California when Uncle Warren (Putter) Ryman came in. Putter complained about everything and never did anything. This day was no different....

"That F**** Bucky F*** DeWitt needs to go back to the F**** reservation" said Putter. "What? Bucky DeWitt?" I said. "Yeah, F**** Bucky DeWitt" said Putter. "That Summmbich is down there at the Unicorn Restaurant talking trash". I didn't quite understand what Putter was talking about. I soon found out....

Bucky decided to Re-invent himself over a period of time. He went from being a skateguard to a mason. Someone must have told Bucky he looked like a Native American. He grew his hair long , put it in a ponytail and since he was out in the sun all the time, he was tan. That reddish tan like a construction worker would be. Bucky soon became the local indian outlaw. His "fleet" of masonry trucks had indian pictographs painted all over them.

Bucky would go to the local restaurants and talk coffee shop politics all morning long and when the discussion would become too much for him, he would throw his hands up and proclaim he was moving back to the reservation. I didn't know that they put a reservation in in
"Benn-in"

"Chief Bucky-wears-rollerskates-many-skatetown-squaws" has become legendary in my relationship with M.J. . Thanks, Bucky for the laughs throughout the years! Your are the best Lamanite wanna-be I know!

The Field

Most of you know that I grew up in a little town in the east-central part of Pennsylvania. Good ol' Mifflinville. Sitting along the east shore of the Susquehanna River between Berwick and Bloomsburg, it was situated in the perfect location. The old, round, Appalachian mountains, covered in their dense hardwoods, on both sides of the Susquehanna River valley. To the north and east is the tough coal region. To the south and west was Pennsylvania farm country. We had the best of both worlds. We were descendants of all types of people with one thing in common, hard working, honest Americans.

Mifflinville in the '70's and '80's was the greatest place to have been raised. Chic and Barb built a modest home on John Street in '73. At that time, it was still a dirt road with no one living that far out. My grandparents owned the land that my parents bought which made it nice for us. Leon and Norma Stout, my maternal grandparents, lived directly behind us on Mary Street. We lived on a small hill overlooking John Street down below and across the street were Seesholtz's "pick your own" strawberry fields. There was nothing to either side of the house for about a quarter mile. Royce Kline's farm was to the southeast and the Eveland's were the same distance to the northwest.

As young kids, my brothers, Chuck, and Chris and I spent many hours exploring the area. Since we were really young when we moved in (Chuck 7, me 4 , and Chris 1) we grew up in the woods. The creek across the street was our favorite place to play. We would leave the house at the first light and not come home until our mom was yelling for us, covered in mud, dirt, pine sap....you name it, we had it on us.

As time went on, my parents decided to buy a few acres next to our home. Chuck saved his money and bought a 1973 Yamaha LT 100 endoro. Soon after, Chris and I bought a go-kart. The field soon became a makeshift racetrack. This was about the same time that my dad was laid off. He was home with us all summer and it was great. We had our own little repair shop. We'd crash it, dad would fix it. Little did he know that this was going to create a mindset for the rest of your lives. Before long, the other kids in town found out we had a good thing going on in the field. Within weeks, we had about 10 kids wanting to come ride on our track. Chuck finally graduated to riding a Yamaha TT 250 and I got the LT 100. I remember wearing my old gold metallic helmet with a JT Racing visor on it.... I thought I was Bob Hannah.

About this time, my dad decided to buy an old '53 International pick up to haul wood in. Dad had gone back to work (remember the teamster strikes back then?) and had injured his back. He was off for a long time but he was always one step ahead of the game in making sure we survived. Anyhow, we had this old truck. We would cut wood, split it and haul it over to the house to burn in the woodstove. The truck was an old I-4 with 3 on the tree. It would run about the speed of smell with 3 kids, one adult, and a black lab, all in the front seat. We used that truck for a good 3 years and Dad finally decided that we could start driving that truck around the field. This became the second evolution of the field.

Soon, that old truck had a new paint job. Complete with lightning bolts and a big number 3 on the door. We all had our names painted on the door, making it an official race truck. We built a 1/4 mile oval by flying around that rack as fast as we could, sawing on the steering wheel like a sprint car driver. One would drive with Spike, our black lab in the passenger seat, barking out the window, as the other two would sit and wait their turn to drive. One final crash did the truck in. I lost it in the first turn and smashed into a pine tree, putting a branch through the block.

We weren't done. This just led to the next stage...and probably the most fun stage. Remember in the early '80's? BMX was the hottest thing. Chuck had found girls and skipped this phase but Chris and I were right there...checkerboard Vans, OP corduroy pants and crazy hair. By this time, we had a mini construction crew with the help of the neighborhood kids and converted the field to a full blown BMX track. Our shed was filled with bike parts, shovels, rakes and "Borrowed" items such as hay bails and water heaters that we could bury to make a jump. Mom and Dad never complained. On any given day, there were tons of kids at the house. We had kids from other towns coming in to ride. The competition was tough but we were all friends. After a hard day of riding, we all chipped in and raked and groomed the track.

Within a few years, we all started getting our permits to drive and we sold our bikes to buy our first cars. The field started to grow up and it became a place to hide beer. After that, the field was a place that we saw as we pulled in the driveway off to our left. The brush started growing up, covering the jumps and ruts we made with motorcycles, bicycles and trucks. Just like our memories of that place, they were still there but a little harder to see.

Marcy and I walked around the field once. It brought back the memories of being a kid, raised by the best parents in the world with the best brothers and friends at our sides. As I think about it, we need to make sure our kids have their own "field".

If we lived in Utah.....

Today, being Tuesday generally means it is my day off. I wake up and head over to see what Marcy is doing before she heads off to work and somehow end up with Cloe as my sidekick. I am not complaining but it is just become a routine. On this particular morning, things were mixed up a little.

The topic of the week between Marcy and I has been concerning a "wish" that we can eventually move to Utah. So everything we have said between us has started with "If we lived in Utah.....".
So, Marcy assigned me to write a essay with the title being, "If we lived in Utah". Here it goes....


If I lived in Utah, I would be finally be where I need to be. I know, this sounds so dramatic but it is. Here is a little story.....

When I was little, my parents took us kids on the vacation of a lifetime. We packed up the old '77 Chevy Malibu station wagon and set a course west. I can tell you every detail of where we went on that trip. Everything became very significant in my later years. Chicago, Davenport, Iowa, Cheyenne's Little America, the Safeway in Estes Park, Colorado and the little bit of Utah we saw.


Chicago is a place that I spent a lot of time in as I drove truck into the produce market. I lived near Davenport for three years. Cheyenne became my current home. The Safeway in Estes Park is where I heard my father say " I think the Mormon Church owns Safeway". And, just to clarify, in case anyone else is wondering, he was wrong... We spent most of out vacation tooling around Colorado with my parents ensuring me that we drove over almost every one of the big mountain passes ( I had an obsession with mountains as a 9 year old) but I knew I wanted to get to Utah.

Fast forward 23 years. I was on my way to L.A. and started down the Wasatch Range out of Evanston, WY. Echo Canyon was nice but when I reached Lambs Canyon on my decent down Parley's, I saw my "home". Everything about the Salt Lake and Utah Valley's seemed right to me. I stopped that night in Springville and sat at the Flying J, ate a bean and beef burritto, and stared at Maple Mountain. I couldn't get over how nice the people were! It wasn't anything like the east coast "Jersey" attitude I was used to. Now as I think about it, it was pretty much the attitude of the rest of the country.


I know this is a big secret but Marcy and I are DATING (SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Don't tell anyone!) Marcy and I have been best friends for a number of years. We never gave the "Dating" thing much thought. Marcy's mission was guiding me through my conversion. I remember the moment I knew it was "her". It was when we walked into Cranberry Cove in Palmyra, New York 2 days after my baptism. The lady at the counter turned and looked at me and said "It's Her!".
I knew it was......

Within a month, I had a transfer open up to Cheyenne. I put my name in and was gone in a week. We had prayed about me getting this transfer for a long time. I needed to feel what it was like to be part of a "ward family". With my time living close to Marcy and the kids, they became my family. We both feel that there is a bigger plan for us somewhere else. Cheyenne was a stepping stone for something bigger and better....

Now, we are looking at a very good possibility that we can move to Utah. I hope to transfer in to Grantsville or Corrine as soon as the time is right. Marcy and I are also looking at building a little "empire" out of some ideas we have. We both agree that it is time for us to come "HOME".

So, Marcy, I don't think I can call this essay "If we lived in Utah........" The proper name would be "When we live in Utah........."

Mike

Ch-ch-changes...

I have a confession to make... I hate change. I like the same old thing, all the time, nothing should ever quit working, nothing should ever break, everything should be just what I have grown comfortable with all the time. Do you remember the Walgreens commercials from few years ago? They were centered around a blissful, change free place called "Perfect". *sigh* As much as I know there is no such things as growth without change, I still always feel a little but let down when something happens in life that I'm not prepared for, or haven't had time to mentally digest. I'm an "analyze, deconstruct, weigh, and measure anything new so I completely understand it" kind of person. I picture, in my mind, changes, or new ideas, or something challenging that I have to accomplish as being like being in a room with a mysterious box. I have to thoroughly study the box, postage, tape, construction, etc. Then I carefully open it. Then I carefully study the state of the contents inside. Then I remove whatever happens to be inside. I carefully go through the wrapping, and then I devote my attention to whatever the object might be. By the time I'm finished observing, I will know what it smells like, feels like, what it's made of, how it was made, for what purpose it was made, how much it weighs, how much it may have cost to construct, etc., before I can actually embrace it and use it. Then I have to clean up the mess, slide the box to one corner, turn out the light, leave the room and shut the door before I feel like I can move forward, or be comfortable with new ideas, or circumstances. In other words, I'm obsessive about controlling things and ideas, and circumstances that I let into my life. As you can probably imagine, I'm not really an impulsive person. And this is an incredible burden sometimes! I wish I could just do something spontaneous, without giving things a second thought, but I guess that's not my lot in life!

I really am going somewhere with all this nonsense, so bare with me!

It seems like the theme of the last 2 years in my home has been "The Random Malfunction of Normally Reliable Products and Services". Here is a list of all the things that have malfunctioned since I moved here, 3 years ago.
1. The washer didn't fit the hookups when I moved in. The new part was expensive, more than a hundred dollars, and took about 2 weeks to get fixed.
2. The range plug didn't fit the existing plug in the house.
3. The dryer quit about 2 weeks after I got the washer fixed. Took about another week and a half.
4. The water heater element quit working.
5. The washer quit working.
6. The freezer quit working.
7. the dryer quit working
4. The washer quit working ( these malfunctions all cost around a hundred dollars an occurrence)
5. The drains became extremely slow.
6. The furnace pilot light blew out 4 times, always after 11 pm, and always on very cold, windy nights.
7. The water froze 4 times.
8. The drains got slow again, which led my landlord to discover that I had a septic tank, and that it was full. No one had any idea where it was, so they ended up digging up my pretty lawn, and making giant holes till it was located. This whole process took almost exactly 2 weeks. During which time I had no running water, and spent several nights in hotels.
9. The kitchen plumbing under the sink imploded. My landlord is incompetent, so I had to fix it myself.
10. My sump pump, which my washer drains into, got very slow, and loud, and smelly then quit.
11. My range quit working. Fried plug. Took me almost 2 weeks to get someone to fix it for me.
12. Internet connection didn't work for about 4 months.
13. My power shuts itself off about 2 or three times a week, usually just a few minutes after I set all the clocks in the house.
14. My oven crapped out. I bought a part that cost $130 dollars, which only fixed one of the several problems it had. It's been 2 weeks now since it quit.
15. The washer died.
16. I got a replacement washer to use while the other one was being fixed. It died.
16. Got my old, fixed one back, then the sump pump died. It took my landlord a week to fix it.
17. After working for a total of 3 hours, my sump pump died again.

AHHHH!!!!

I am really trying hard to understand what I am supposed to learn from all this, and I think it may be to teach me to stop being so controlling, and un-flexible. I'm trying REALLY HARD!

I used to get really upset, and I felt like my life was crashing down around me, but now, I've noticed that I don't get quite so upset, I just buckle down, and work around whatever might be currently not working the way it should. Does that mean I'm progressing?! I hope so!

Now on to continue my journey to try to find the bottom of the dirty laundry stack, wish me luck!

I want a do-over!

I woke up at 3:34 am this morning. I don't do well without sleep, so at the moment my eyes opened I knew that I was in for a crappy day today. I feel like I'm in slow motion, and to top it all off, I'm getting this weird, sinus pressure headache thing. I had so many plans for the day, and all I feel like doing is going home and going to bed! Maybe I will make myself go to the gym after work, so I get my "happy" on, or at least I can feel like I did at least SOMETHING productive...





And this is me, making the decision to stop whining now ;-)






And, just for fun, here's a pic of a little bird I saw in Sams Club a few weeks ago. see? I'm trying to be in a better mood, YAY!

A day in the life...

Today finds me sitting at work, Cloe busily making a mess in the corner of my office. She has an unusual affinity for disinfecting wipes ( no idea why), and is making "presents" with them wadded up in a little damp ball, then she secures the whole thing with about 4lbs of tape. She is wrapping random things on my desk, and then makes me unwrap them while she watches excitedly. I have decided that I can learn a lesson from what she is doing...looking at everyday things about my life in a new, fresh, excited way. I have had an interesting/stressful last few weeks, to say the least. I think I'm finally on the "down" side of the stress cycle for a little while, anyway. About 4 days ago I did the "pause my life for some deep reflection" thing. I have to say that I'm feeling very thankful for the way things are going for me, and for the place I'm at in life. If I can pass on any advice it's this: Ignore the things he does that irritates you, love your kids, teach them discipline, find time to exercise, learn to love the good things about yourself, ALWAYS always try extra hard to make time to study the gospel and talk to God EVERY day! NO EXCUSES! The End :) I wish you all peace, and comfort, and safety, and most of all, happiness...

Do you ever have one of those days?

Oh, I guess it was about three weeks ago, now, but Mike ad I decided to go to the gym. I was wearing Yoga capris, and that becomes relevant later in the story, it's not there solely for vanity purposes :)

Anyway, after a pretty long dry spell, I decided that I need to pick up running again, I was doing 6 miles a day about a year and a half ago, and I would like to get back in shape. Our routine is usually that we start out on the treadmill, and do 1-2 miles, then head to the weight room. Mike was about 2 treadmills away from me to my right, and there was some random guy to my right. He sorta gave a me a crusty look as I started out, it took me some extra time to get my ipod untangled and all situated. I think I was disrupting his rhythm or something... This bad vibe just threw off my whole treadmill time. I was on a brand new machine, with a very grippy belt, picture "belt sander", and my poor old assics were about ready to be put out to pasture. My feet and brain were not in sync, and I kept accidentally stepping over the tread to the stationary side railing. The guy next to me is still giving me crusties, like "what in the heck is this handicapped woman doing here unsupervised?". I finally got "in the zone", and was feeling pretty focused. I was liking what I was listening to, (Clutch:robot hive/exodus album) and gradually closed my eyes. I opened them to see myself zooming off the back of the machine FAST. Just them, my right foot caught the side step, and jerked my whole body backward, so I planted my left foot to stabilize myself. Unfortunately, my left foot was right on top of the roller bar that the belt turns around on, so this threw me back off the machine altogether! Here I am, stuck between the wall about a foot behind the treadmill, and the belt, that is whipping around at number 6 speed. It sawed off about 4lbs of flesh from my legs, because I couldn't get up!

I finally did, and thankfully, no one saw what happened, so I got up, stopped the machine, and tried catching my breath. Mike noticed me stopping and looked at me like "What are you doing?!", but just kept right on running. The grouchy guy next to me must have sensed some movement out of the corner of his eye, but was not overly concerned and did nothing but shoot me another crusty look. I didn't want to draw attention to myself, so here I am, bleeding, and SO sore, but I wasn't going to get off the treadmill till grouchy man left, so I walked another half-mile, or should I say limped :) I finally walked out, and sat. I was so sore and stiff that I could barely get up again, and I had somehow pulled a muscle in my shoulder during the awesome ordeal...

Yet another example of just how uber-cool it is to be me!

Hellwax.

September 01, 2008

Ok, so my loyal fans have requested a new blog.... I call this one "Hellwax"...

As probably most of you know, My Dearest Joni Marie got married mid-July. I travelled the 6 hours to Logan, Utah to attend. Which is also where my younger brother, Andy and his wife, Nikki live. I stayed with them for the 3 days I was in Utah. Now, I don't really remember what led up to this, but Nikki and I got the sudden urge to whip out the body wax and wax each others' eyebrows... Which led to a crazy wax fest. At one point, I looked at her and took a mental step back and pondered just how hysterical it was that she had a huge blob of hardening wax sticking out of each nostril and ripped them both off without flinching at all and without missing a beat in the conversation we were having. Well, I and my newfound courage and waxing skills went home to Cheyenne armed with the confidence to tackle all kinds of personal waxing projects...

Now, let me give you a little backstory. I have always had terrible luck with shaving. Regularly about 3 times a year I cut my legs horrifically with the razor. So, you can probably imagine that I am not a huge fan of shaving, but I'm also less of a bodyhair fan, so I grit my teeth and hack away, and always make sure the bandaids are handy.

Back to my story. On the drive home from Andy and Nikkis' I had been imagining myself, freed from the razor. As soon as I could, I bought the wax, and took it home, and waited patiently while the wax heated for hours. I was WAX-CRAZY that night! I don't think a Johnson or a Dent escaped some sort of waxing. I was so happy with how well my leg waxing turned out that I decided to get brave and wax my armpits. I decided to let them grow for a few days so it would be more satisfying to see those litle suckers in the hardened wax after I yanked them out.

This is where it gets interesting...

It was a Sunday morning, and I had had the wax on the warmer all night so I could go to church with freshly waxed pits. I got a huge blob on my little applicator stick, and smeared it all over my left underarm. I looked at it and decided that I needed just a little more, so I smeared another giant blob. I let it cool and, smiling at the thought of a smooth armpit, grabbed a hunk and YANK! I got about 4 hairs out and screamed. I'm a pretty tough person, but that was THE most excruciating pain I had ever experienced. Including the emergency c-section. I started to panic because I had a pretty big clump still stuck there, and had to be out the door to church in about 45 minutes and I had no makeup on yet. I tried melting it off with the long lighter stick that I use to light candles with. I leaned way over the sink and held it under there as long as I could stand it, then I would wait a little while and start melting again. After I burnt myself I took a different approach and just tried yanking again. By this point I was bleeding all over the place. I tried goo-gone, that spray you use to get sticky gunk off of windows, which I knew was a solvent. It worked a little and a few more hairs loosened and slipped out of the wax, but the down side was that the spray was now also stinging like CRAZY as it got in my freshly traumatized and bleeding folicles. I was super panicky and stressed, and gooey and smelling like scorched wax and hair and goo-gone. I finally just got a huge bandaid, and slapped it over the wax and wore it that way for the next 2 days, and the wax finally just fell off on its own :)

My advice to you? Just say NO to wax....

Mega Booger, or "The Big Stink"

March 23, 2007


Funny story in the Life and Times of Marcy J.


About a month ago, I was sitting in church, with Cloe on my lap. As toddlers do, she was chewing on her finger, drool on her dress. I noticed a really strange odor, that seemed to be coming from her. I did the quick sniff-around to find the source of the stench as discretely as I could. I couldn't quite pin it down. I kept noticing the smell every so often over the next few days, and I decided that maybe she had an ear infection. The doctor confirmed my suspicions, and started her on a two week round of antibiotic. I went on vacation about a week into the treatment and the kids spent the week with their father. He informed me that she was no longer smelly. After being away from her for a LONG week, I of course hugged her when I saw her, and I caught a big ole' whiff of the stink, which I have decided smells like a mixture of rotten meat and swamp water. I made another doc. appointment, which I just returned from.


EEEW, bare with me for a minute... It was so DISGUSTING...

He looked in her ears and determined that she didn't have an ear infection and then he looked in her nose...

He said, "huh" and jumped up and ran out of the room. Never a good sign. He came back in the room with a tool that looked like a crochet hook and starts digging in her nose. After a few seconds of the digging, out plops this HUGE booger encrusted hunk of something AWFUL. It plopped on to her sweater and then on to my jeans. The doctor, the nurse, and I all just quietly looked at each other and the nurse gagged. The doctor picked up "Mega Boogie" and looked at it, said "YUMMY" and threw it in the trash. It was about the size of a walnut in the shell, and the color was indescribable.

I usually never get nauseous enough to vomit, but I nearly did right then and there. EEWH!

Cloe, for the rest of the morning walked around, sniffing. I guess it has been a while since she could smell out of that nostril...

Kids are fun, right?

Old Blog: Crazy Old Lady

Tuesday, February 06, 2007


Crazy old lady

Ok, funny story from this morning... I live next to a sweet old lady and her 50 year old swingin' single son. She has become my buddy, despite the fact that she has vertigo and constantly forgets what she is trying to say. She came trotting up to my doorstep this morning with a plastic target bag draped over her arm. She comes into my hallway and jerks out a brand new pair of tightie-whities, mens. She asked what size my 10 year old son wears. I told her and she proceeds to try to explain to me that her naughty son,(remember, he's 50) bought the wrong sized drawers, even after she told him that he wears 32's. The panties she was waving around at me were 30's. She said my son could have them beacause they don't fit Allen. I am a huge germophobe, so this was setting off all KINDS of alarm bells with my internal cleanliness warning system. She forced me to take a pair of these drawers, and all I could think about as I stood there holding them was "Please, don't let this be the pair that Allen tried on to determine that they were too small." I set them on the floor next to my trash can and I had to wash my hands about 4 times to actually feel clean. I hope Coulter is ready for his used underpants fitting after school today...

**********************************************************

Update: Many of my loyal fans may be wondering if Coulter liked his new underpants....

Yesterday being Monday was family night in my little Mo universe, so the kids and I went to the library and then to dinner. Coulter and I were laughing about the undies through the whole meal, he has an incredible sense of humor. The evening progressed into time to go home and get everyone to bed. By the time we arrived home I had forgotten about them, lying forlornly on the kitchen floor, next to the trash. (single tear for the sad, unwanted undies). I was battling with grouchy Cloe to get her into her jammies, and Coulter, screaming "MOM!", came jumping around the corner, into my bedroom wearing them over his jeans! I laughed so hard that my stomach hurt! He asked me if he could mail them to his dad, I think that should speak volumes about the quality of parenting by both paties involved......

Old blog entries.

Ok, so I decided that I should move a few of my Myspace blog entries to here, so other people get a laugh at just how crazy my life has been over the years :)

The ol' Hole in the Cup trick!

Hey, It's Mike and I am guessing it is my turn to "Blog". For those of you who know me, know that I probably have seen almost everything....ALMOST...until this afternoon.



Marcy is pretty much my "handler". I hate to make phone calls, schedule appointments, and do anything that requires dealing with the public. Thank goodness for Marcy! She is always there to help me out and make sure that I get stuff taken care of. I am a type 2 diabetic. I was getting to the point of not having any refills left on my meds, so I needed to make a trip to the doctor and get that stuff taken care of. One magic phone call to Marcy and a few minutes later I have an appointment!



Since going by myself is out of the question, I stopped by and grabbed Marcy and Cloe to go with me. Marcy may be required to produce my insurance card or answer some questions that I should know as well as fill out some paperwork. Anyhow, we got there and everything went smooth. I sat in the chair and watched the Weather Channel while Marcy checked me in. Within a few minutes, the nurse called my name and we headed around the corner to the examination room.



We made the stop at the scale and got a weight ( I know the scale was way off), and then went into the exam room. I jumped up on the table and let Marcy answer all the medical questions. The nurse finally turned to me and told me that she needed to check my sugar through blood and urine. Great.... She told me to go to the bathroom and there were sample cups on the counter and to bring out the urine sample when I was done. I went in, closed the door and pushed the lock in. I tool one off the cups off the counter and tore the plastic off, opened the lid and set it on the counter. The next sequence is pretty much exactly how you would imagine. Un-button, un-zip, adjust, place cup, go pee pee....wait....What the heck? Some liquid was flowing from the cup area down to the floor and spalshing on my boots. It was coming out almost as fast as I was filling it! I stood there in a state of shock as urine ran out of the bottom of the cup. I went through the mental checklist.



1. I am peeing in the cup and not off target, right?



CHECK



2. The lid was removed?



CHECK



ALL SYSTEMS GO!



Still, something failed. Quickly, I stopped and held the cup up in the air to see what the problem was...all while urine was flowing out of the cup and on my boots. There was a hole in the specimen cup!!!!! With my cat-like reflexes, I grabbed another cup off the counter and ripped the plastic off with my teeth like a soldier pulling the pin on a grenade, spun the cap off on in one fluid motion (no pun intended), dumped out what was in the defective cup into the new cup and topped it all off with a little straight from the source.

As I spun the cap on, set the cup on the table, took care of the placement of things, and cleaned the pee pee off the floor, I thought how I was going to explain this one. It crossed my mind not to say a word but I had to tell someone.....

I walked back in the exam room and told the nurse. Of course, she didn't quite get what I was saying. Marcy immediately lost it! Finally, the nurse got it. It was one of those laughs where you can's breathe...just turn bright red. Everyone in the room was in tears. Soon, the whole office knew of my sample troubles.


I guess the moral of this story would be everyone can be the "one in a million". My odds just hit on the the sample cup lottery instead of the Powerball.


Mike

I quit!

In case you are just joining our program, here's a little back story...

In the fall of '05, I found myself a mother of 4, with some major financial struggles, and no way to support myself if the need arose, and eventually the need did arise. I have always been sort of a Real Estate junkie, and, in a passing conversation with a broker in Evanston, I decided that I needed to get my RE license. He offered me job after I got through with the testing process. While I was in Cheyenne finishing up the required classroom hours to finalize my license, I was offered a job selling not houses, but dirt! Brooks Realty offered 40 acre tracts of beautiful ranch property, wide-open prairie, great prices, lots of nationwide advertising, unbeatable no qualifying, in house financing, and a very good commission structure. A whole heck of a lot better than tiny income of a residential agent in Evanston. This all came at me at a time of extreme flux in my life. The kids and I packed up and moved 400 miles away from our home, anyone we knew! It was a definite challenge, but it was exactly where I knew Heavenly Father wants me to be. I had the most incredible co-workers. More like family. I moved to the beautiful Hereford Ranch. I have a great ward, I shudder to think where I would be right now if I didn't have the support network of the Church during this time. This job has taken very good care of me. Last spring, it was decided that our advertising structure was going to change, which had the unforeseen effect on all the agents of cutting our sales significantly. The spring turned to summer, turned to fall, which is the natural slow time with this company. The advertising usually runs from March through October, and then we usually cultivate the contacts we gained during that time during the slow months. Last fall found me with very few leads, and not nearly the nest egg I had hoped for, (such is life on commission!), so I decided to accept an offer to work for a commercial RE brokerage in town. The work was exciting, but I found that my new boss and I had major personality conflicts. It was such a struggle. I pushed my way through it, but, truth be told, I was absolutely miserable. I had been hanging on and hanging on, hoping to get paid for any of the handful of projects I had been working on. The climate was less than ideal. In retrospect, the whole experience was soul-sucking. I finally had had enough, I couldn't take it anymore, and I quit last Friday. My wonderful boss at Brooks, Uncle Fred, was so supportive, and welcomed me back with open arms. He even helped me move out of my office. My friends have been such a help through all of this, too. It makes me feel so good that you're all so concerned with my welfare and happiness :)

Today was my first full day back, and it was so incredible, like taking a deep breath of fresh air after being in a stuffy, cramped room. As I walked by Ed's office, and saw Cloe sitting on his lap while he read his email, it really hit me that I never have to go back to that other place again! I can't wait to meet a whole new years' worth of landowners, and to help them build their dream here... Wish me luck!

Mr. Dent...

I don't know how many of you are Arrested Development fans, but the title of this post made me need to sing the "Mr.F" song from season 3 in a British accent...

On to the mysterious Michael Lee. He and I had a mutual friend who introduced us about about 3 years ago, or was it 4? Anyway, we met over a shirt rack in a smelly truck stop, of all things.. I walked into the room, and saw him, and we instantly had this connection. I couldn't quite understand my reaction at the time, but it makes so much sense, now. It was like seeing an old friend after a very long time. I knew that we had met before. He was living in Iowa at the time, I met him while he was making a Iowa to California run. ( He's a truck driver) The days and weeks went by and we talked. One of the very first conversations we had, we talked about our hometowns, etc. I told him I was from Utah. He asked me if I was a "Mormon", I said yes, and he proudly proclaimed, I'm going to be one someday too! And, of course, my Primary Kid instincts kicked in! I think it was a matter of hours that I had a package in the mail with Our Search For Happiness, and the BOM. Mike and I have always communicated very well, we have the same sense of humor, we think the same way. I have always admired him from the very beginning for being so ready and willing to absorb the Gospel. He truly is a very choice spirit. He and I and Verizon continued with his gospel education off and on over the course of a couple of years. He was my rock through all the struggles I seemed to be going through with my dying marriage, and he was the best coach I could have asked for. I moved to Cheyenne about a year after I met him, I guess.(Boy, I'm getting old and forgetful!) One day I had a random urge to send him a box of movies. I stuck in The Singles Ward, The RM, The Best Two Years, and a couple of other things.

Mike was living in Pennsylvania by this time, and his son was up from Florida for the summer, and I thought they would get a laugh. He told me he got the box, and I really didn't think too much more about it. He called me about 4 the next morning after staying up all night to watch all the churchy-ish movies over twice! He asked me if I could get the missionaries to come talk to him as soon as possible. Over the time that I have known him, I prayed for that moment so long and so hard. I could feel the adversary working on him so hard sometimes, and there were times that I felt like he was winning, but that was so very gratifying to be a part of that moment in his life. Mike has such a special, strong spirit, and he hit the ground running with his education. He and I pretty much worked through all his questions long before he ever got to this point. Before his first meeting with what became "his" Elders, I told him to make sure that one of the first things that should come out of his mouth the first time he met them was to inform them that he was a "golden". Because he was! Later his elders told me that they would come over, briefly outline the discussions, he would proceed to explain each principle in depth, and then they would just chat for the rest of the appointment! Cute little Elder Parr told me that Mike taught him a few things! They have a great bond of friendship both of them email Mike faithfully every Monday. Elder Bull gets off his mission in a few weeks and is already making plans for all of us to get together.

Anyway, on November 30, 2007, I got to be in PA and witness my best friend be baptized and confirmed a member of the church. The moment he came out of the water, he had the most indescribable look on his face, I will never forget that as long I live. We decided to make a pilgrimage to Harmony, PA, and then on to Palmyra, NY. I have longed to see the Sacred Grove, and the Hill Cumorah since I was a little girl, and it was every bit as beautiful and special as I ever could have hoped for. I think I will post this trip in detail in a separate posting.

I have witnessed Mike make so many changes in his life, and "the mighty change of heart" is such an amazing thing to behold. I feel truly blessed to be a part of this whole journey with him. I have had so many impressions and whisperings that he and I sat together somewhere before this life and made promises to each other to make this happen. I think we planned, and wished, and dreamed together. His journey so far hasn't been easy, but his resolve has been rock-solid, and I admire him more than he can imagine for that. Since his baptism, I was by his side for his Patriarchal Blessing, his first trip to the temple, and I have watched him grow so much. He truly is an inspiration...

The here and now...

So, I'm sure you blog-a-holics will already be able to tell, but good ole Marcy Jean is kinda new to this blogging business, so bare with me...

Since I didn't get around to the Christmas letter that I promised myself I would get out, I guess I will just update everyone here, instead. First of all, as I'm sure most of you who care already know, Dean and I have been separated and going through a challenging divorce for about 3 years now. It has been a bumpy road, but it's finally over, and I'm happy to say that we parted friends, which, under the circumstances, is about the best a person could hope for, I guess. We had some memories together, and there were some good times, it was a valuable learning experience, and we have 4 beautiful children, and now we are both happily moving on...

That being said, lets move on a head, shall we?

Currently, as of this moment, Marcy Jean is sitting at my desk at the commercial RE firm, Grubb&Ellis Wyoming, where I have been sitting since 9 am with nothing to do, (it's now almost 2 pm). I am currently wrestling with a job I do NOT enjoy, and am exploring my various options. I will be headed back to Brooks Realty in a few weeks, hopefully, where I have been working since May 2006. This is the job that I love :)

I have been able to help several people enjoy their dream of land ownership in the beautiful West over the course of my career here. I have made some lifelong friends, seen the beautiful, wide open expanse of the prairie stretched out before me as far as my eyes would let me see, and I have to say, I think it's one of the most beautiful sights a person could take in. I am truly thankful for the direction God has given my life so far, and I'm very thankful for the opportunity to keep waking up one more day and trying all over again.

I'm forever grateful, ( that almost seems like too soft a word for the emotion I feel), for ancestors and parents that embraced the gospel of Jesus Christ so that I could grow up with the constant influence in my life. It truly is the way to happiness.

I wake up every morning in my sweet little home on the Wyoming Hereford Ranch and 2 things usually happen. 1) I curse it for being about 1 1/2 sizes too small for our family, and 2) I swear to myself that I will never leave until I find a place that fits just right in my soul the way this place does.

On to the kidlets :)

Coulter is 11, going on 12 in April, which makes me feel incredibly old... I feel like I haven't quite been out of the awkward pre-teen/teen phase long enough to have a child going through it! He's incredibly mature, and probably, truth be told, one of my best friends. He is smarter than he gives himself credit for, stronger than he gives himself credit for, and it frightens me sometimes to see just what an impact his example has on the girls, be it good or bad. Being a parent is like a long, bumpy roller coaster ride, with plenty of ups and downs, and fast turns that it's fun, but still makes you want to barf sometimes too :)

Keller Mattie is 9, going on 10 in June. She sensitive, and caring, and funny. She is the spitting image of Grandma Sharon. She loves taking pictures, and drawing and painting, and horses. She is the messy one in our family, and Coulter affectionately coined the nickname "Sloppy Joe", which, of course, I have to pretend isn't funny while I explain to him that it hurts her feeling.

Hawley is 7 going on 30. She's a very deep thinker, and is alarmingly concerned about the way she looks all the time, I have a clothes-horse on my hands, I realized a while ago.She can fall asleep almost at will, which usually coincides with some sort of chore she is assigned. She's a very outgoing child, which does try my patience a lot, as you can imagine.

Cloe is our not-so-little-anymore littlest one. She is 4, but her soul is much older and wiser, and more mature. She is very analytical, and is a very good problem solver. She is a "call it like I see it" child, which sometimes is mildly uncomfortable. She is the author of such comments as "Mom, the guy with the brown head just waved at me", said in her loudest speaking voice, referring to the African-American fix-it man in my office building.

Life is fun, isn't it?! Anyway, that's a good enough start for now, anyway...