Days four, five, and six make one cloudy day.

It is official. I am a slacker. I haven't posted anything for a few days, and I am supposed to be writing about what I am grateful for every day. I seem to be suffering from a brain cloud. Those of you who have seen "Joe vs. The Volcano" would understand this. A brain cloud is a fictional ailment that would cause one to sacrifice himself/herself to the volcano gods because they are too clueless to know they really don't have a problem. It's all in his/her head. Does that help you understand my predicament? Maybe it's just because I am too lazy to take the effort to write. Personally, I am voting for the brain cloud.

Today, I am thankful for lotion. Don't you just hate that sandpaper feeling that your skin gets? There is something about feeling like your hands will crack if you bend your fingers that I just don't like. I am a lotion snob. There, I said it. That is the first step, admitting you have a problem. Now it is out, and I can't take it back. You know, I feel as if a huge burden has lifted. No ordinary lotion will do for me, unless I am desperate, of course. It can't have too strong of a scent, it can't be too greasy, and it can't have very much mineral oil in it. It makes my eyes itch. Seriously, I am allergic to mineral oil. Don't believe me? Pass me your closest bottle of lotion, wait five minutes, and I will be scratching my eyes out. Or maybe it's just a brain cloud.

I am also thankful for guitar teachers. Doug and I have started taking guitar lessons from a 22 year old prodigy named David. David can make me feel untalented in 3 seconds flat. Not that he does it on purpose. At the beginning of every lesson, we have "show and tell" time. Also known as "The Throw Down". This is my turn to attempt to impress him with the prodigious skill I have aquired within the last week, or lack thereof. Emphasis on the last part of that sentence. As soon as I walk in, I have performance anxiety. (The guitar kind.) The moment I sit down, my fingers become unattached from my brain. They begin to rebel and resist the direction they are given. By the end of the lesson, I am sufficiently humbled, and wonder what would have possibly posessed me to think that I would be good at this, or at least enjoy it? Within a few days, I start to think success may actually be possible, only to return to class, and feel like a complete idiot once again. I don't seem to be making much progress. Maybe I should actually practice. Maybe it is another brain cloud.

The smell of gingerbread is the most comforting, yummy smell that could ever come out of my oven. This weekend, after the "Thanksgiving - stuff  yourself until you think you will literally explode and die" celebration has passed, the women on the Burrell side are coming over for the annual gingerbread house construction project. (Pictures coming the following week.) We did this last year, and it was so enjoyable that, apparently, it is a tradition now. That has to be a record. Our second year, and already a mandatory part of the holidays. I have to admit, I love gingerbread houses. I love to look at them, build them, and smell them. If you have never had the experience of a real gingerbread house sitting on a table, and every time you walk by, or when the furnace starts up, there is the warm, spicy scent of gingerbread, you are seriously missing out.

I know that in most homes, the candy on the house doesn't last long. In my house, it tends to last a bit longer because there are only three of us. My favorite part is actually the gingerbread, itself. I can't wait to get rid of the candy so I can break off a piece of crispy cookie to savor. It is the only crispy cookie I have ever enjoyed. Normally, I prefer soft, chewy cookies. I'm not sure that would be a good material to build a house from. Talk about substandard materials. Although, I have built a few really adorable houses out of Pop-Tarts. They make great gifts, and there is no need for tedious baking. However, it just isn't the same without the yummy smell.

It has come to my attention that I am the only one that will take on the task of actually baking the houses. Who in their right mind would volunteer to do that much baking? I must be suffering from complications of a brain cloud again. If someone had volunteered to bake it for me, I would probably accept. It wouldn't be the same, though. Knowing that I made my house from start to finish makes it more fun. However, baking seven houses is quite a task. That is two days worth of baking, and a big mess in my kitchen. Molasses is sticky. Really sticky. Let me emphasize that- Molasses is an ooey-gooey substance that is worthy of sticking a road runner to the pavement. Wile E. Coyote should have used it. His cartoons would have been much more successful, and he would have finally had his own Thanksgiving.


I think he suffered from brain clouds, too.

Day three and all is well.

Today we picked up Doug from the airport. It is amazing to me that you can smell a country on someone. I know what China smells like, and it isn't that great. Thank heaven for washing machines and laundry soap. However, this got me thinking about our noses. I like mine. It has been with me all my life, and I have become quite attached to it. It is terrible when it is stuffed up, and I can't use it. It sometimes enjoys causing mischief by itching and making me sneeze. I think it feels ignored. I find at times I am irritated by it because when it has a problem, I am very irritable. Nothing worse than an itchy nose.

It has the ability to smell some pretty terrible things. Like broccoli gone bad in the fridge, or garbage that has been waiting for garbage day to come in the 100° heat for a week. Or when a diaper needs to be changed. Just when you think that you would prefer to have your nose surgically removed because of allergy problems, or having to clean out the fridge, something wonderful happens. Just a whiff of a pleasant smell can change your mind about being rhino-challenged. I feel so fortunate to be able to smell a freshly baked apple pie or cinnamon rolls. In honor of Thanksgiving, what about the delicious scent of a turkey in the oven? The smell of freshly baked bread from my bread machine in the morning when I wake up makes life worthwhile. I still remember Nanny, my Mom's mom. She passed away from cancer when I was quite young, but I can't smell Avon's Skin So Soft without having vivid memories of her.

Smells are such powerful things. They help us recall moments in our lives, or people we love, or places we have been.  I have missed the way Doug smells (the good smells) all week. When he comes home from a long trip, he isn't really home until he showers and puts on clean clothes. Somehow it just isn't right until he removes the smell of Asian cigarettes and air polution. Know what I mean? When he smells better, all is right with the world, because my man is home.

I am also grateful for eyelashes. As women, we curl them, paint them so they look darker and longer, and we can now use chemicals to lengthen them. It might change the color of your eyes, but who cares? You will have longer lashes. Someone even went as far as to create false lashes. You can buy them in strips, groups, singles, or in bright colors. You can have extensions done from a professional, or take the time to do it yourself. Just be careful not to glue your eyes shut. Hey, I've seen it happen, my friend. It isn't pretty.

Every day, I put on mascara. Unless I am deathly ill, of course. In which case, I don't answer the door. Heaven forbid that anyone should see me without my lashes done. My natural eyelashes are the color of my skin. When I don't dress them for the day, people think I am terribly ill. (Someday I may just take advantage of that.) Doug used to laugh and tell me I didn't have any eyes when I washed off my makeup. What am I, some alien freak? At least I am all set in case of invasion or abduction.

I have been thinking about this lately because of my neice. Last spring, she pulled out all her eyelashes and eyebrows. They were bugging her. I guess 3rd graders just don't care about those long and lovely lashes they are graciously given. It is shocking to see someone without eyebrows or eyelashes. Their faces are no longer framed, and they have a shocked expression, not just surprised. It is now almost Thanksgiving, and they are just starting to show some growth.

It's one thing if someone is going through chemotherapy, they lose all of their hair. Everything matches, and it is fine. But when they lose hair in just one location, it is bizarre. In my freshman year of high school, a kid shaved off his eyebrows. He won $20 for doing it. He said it wasn't worth it. Sometimes you are grateful for lessons other people have learned.

Today, I have also been thinking about hugs. When I was little, my Uncle Gene would try to corner me at every visit, and ask me where his kiss was. I'm sorry, but I never had a kiss for you. Don't even try it. You are an old man. You are not my parent, you are not my baby brother or sister, and I am too young to be engaged. Those are the only conditions that warrent a kiss from me. Keep your lips to yourself, thanks.

Hugs, on the other hand, are meant to be shared. I love them. They welcome someone into your space, and you can feel actual warmth from them. I decided when I was young, that hugs were the best. Today, I was able to hug my hubby after not seeing him for a week. I forget how much I like to hug him until I can't.

Years ago, when my sister, Darcy, was home for a visit, she said something that surprised me. "Amber, you give the world's best hugs. Nobody hugs like you." I was so surprised by that. Hugging Darcy was like hugging a fragile piece of porcelain. She became so thin, I was always worried that I might squeeze too hard and break one of her ribs. I wanted her to know I cared about her, and that she meant something to me. Hugging her was an opportunity to show her how happy I was to see her, and that she was an important part of my life. It never occurred to me that she liked it. I would love to be able to hug her again. I think the best hug ever will be the one I get to give her when I see her in her perfect body, healthy, happy, and strong.

If only Uncle Gene would have asked for a hug instead of a kiss.......

Day two.

Today, I am thankful for something. I'm sure of it. Do you ever have days that are so full of stuff you have to do, that it is hard for you to clear your mind to remember the important things? I am having one of those days. Or weeks. Or maybe years. It could be my whole life, but I am too mentally fatigued to remember. This might take some time........

I suppose the first item on my list today would have to be airplanes. Every time I see a plane overhead, I wonder what it a pioneer would do if they were suddenly transported in time, and saw how we traveled. Would they feel that they suffered coming over the plains for nothing? Really, they could have endured a while longer, and then chartered a plane to get everyone to where they needed to be. Of course, in this day and age, they would have had terrorists attacking the Mormons. That puts a whole new spin on things. On that same line, what about Christopher Columbus, or the pilgrims? Obviously, everything was meant to happen the way that it did. We learn so much from them, and I am forever grateful for the sacrifices they made. I can't imagine the difference it made in their own lives. I just have to wonder if it would have done serious mental damage to them to see that we can cross the country in a few hours, not to mention the other side of the world. Can you just see their brains exploding with the concept?

Really, the reason this comes up today is that, as I write, Doug is flying home to us from China. I always feel like the flight from China is so far. He left a few hours ago, and we will arrive to pick him up from the airport tomorrow at 1:00 in the afternoon. I always feel bad that he is in the air for so long, and then I remember that he could have done it by boat. His one week trip would have been infinitely longer. See you in a year, sweetie.

I am also thankful for movies. I know, what a corny thing to be grateful for. (Yes, I used the word corny. Deal with it.) Truly, I am a movie buff. I wish I had known as a child that I would have such a love of the silver screen. I would have paid more attention to what I was watching. As it is, I have wonderful memories of the movies I saw as a wee one. The first memory I have of seeing a movie is when my Grandpa Williams took us to see "Bambi" in the Preston theater. We got a flat tire on the way home. I am sure that he was irritated by that, but it became memorable to me. I still love that movie, and the music is very dear to my heart. ♪ ♫ Drip, drip, drop, little April showers..... beating a tune as you fall all around. ♫ ♪

I loved it when movies came on and our family made an event out of it. We would pop popcorn and gather around the television and anxiously await the beginning of "The Sound Of Music", or "The Ten Commandments", or our all time favorite, "Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory". We would marvel at the amounts of chocolate and candy at the beginning, and the edible room was a dream come true. What kid didn't dream of their own personal chocolate river? Or wallpaper where the snozzberries taste like snozzberries? Who didn't have the secret wish that their sister would be chewing a piece of gum, and she would blow up like a blueberry, only to be taken to the hospital to have the juice squeezed out of her? Oh, you didn't wish for that? Sorry, my mistake.

Somehow, owning movies on DVD and watching them whenever you want is just not the same. Although, I have tried to continue the tradition with my daughter. We put on our pj's, and pick out a special movie. We cuddle together under blankets with our fuzzy Elmo socks sticking out the bottom of the blanket. That is a special time to us.

I have also been known to use movies to change my mood. When I am working on a wedding cake, I love to watch "Father Of The Bride" movies, or "My Big, Fat, Greek Wedding". It just makes me happy, and the cakes are more fun. Lucky for the bride, they turn out better, too. Christmas just isn't Christmas without "A Christmas Story", or "Home Alone", or "The Santa Clause". (I happen to be a Christmas freak. Tell me you didn't see that coming.) On the flip side, beware when I am watching an action flick. I wouldn't sit too close to me, if I were you. I'm just sayin'.

Lastly, I love little girls. They are so gosh darn cute. I love how giggly they get, and how they get so excited over things. Oh, how I miss being able to get away with the shrieking and giggling of teenage life. Now, when I do that, people think I need medication. They could be right. I probably do, but my fatigued mind can't remember to go to the doc. Guess I am a terminal case.

And so it begins.

This year I have decided that I want to continue the week of Thanksgiving that I did last year. This year has given me so many opportunities to be grateful, and I want to take the time to voice my thanks.

I think I will start with the obvious, my wonderful husband. At the moment, he is in China attempting to achieve a few miracles. OK, maybe not miracles, but at least a few amazing feats of engineering brilliance. He left last week for South Korea to finalize a contract for an electrical device. (I would tell you what it is, but I would have to kill you after. As far as I know, this is an unmentionable.) He then headed to China for some other top secret items, that probably aren't so top secret anymore. I will someday take the time to explain these items, but today is not someday. It is today, and my subject is my hubby, not some piece of plastic and metal that will someday (hopefully) make us debt free. It's good to dream.

When he leaves on these trips, I worry so much about him. It unnerves me just a bit to send him to a communist country. If anything makes you appreciate your freedom, that'll do it. On one trip, Doug mentioned that a plane flew overhead, so he looked up. He was stunned to see a Russian MiG 29 flying low overhead. He turned to his translator, and commented on how excited he was to see that. His translator just shook his head and said, "No, no! We don't talk about that! We don't talk about military." They were surprised that he knew what it was. They had no idea. Now I will give a moment of pause for your memory to recall those scenes in "Top Gun". I know that you are now singing in your mind, "Highway to the Danger Zone". Admit it.



Which brings me to the next item. Freedom. I am so grateful for the freedom to get an education for whatever I may choose, for the freedom to log on to the internet and find whatever information I am interested in, and for the freedom to talk about our government and discuss the good with the bad. I am also thankful for those who defend that freedom. What an amazing military we have. There is just something about our men and women in uniform that gives me chills. I can't help but be impressed by them. It is so incredible that there are those who are willing to sacrifice their time with their families, and sometimes even their lives, so that we can enjoy the opportunity to live in a free country.

The next item on the list is a silly one, but in keeping with the theme of China, I am so grateful for soft, comfy beds. Seriously, don't you just love those mornings when you wake up, and your bed and pillow are so cuddly and pleasant, that you would just about give anything to stay there? Then the harsh reality of daily life kicks in, and you have to leave it all behind.

Final day. Aren't you glad?

One last random picture of someone I am so grateful for. Isn't she just cute?

Today I am thankful for pie. I love Thanksgiving because of all the pies. I don't make them that often, but I always end up doing dessert for Thanksgiving. This year, I am making 4 pumpkin, 2 Apple, and 2 of the all time fav, Chocolate toffee. I love that it is so easy to make them look fabulous. A few cookie cutters, and you look like a pastry chef to the stars. This brings up another Thanksgiving tradition. About 10 years ago, I made pies for Thansgiving dinner at my mom's house. We had a fabulous dinner, and afterward we played games. We were sitting at the table, and my brother Mike decided he was ready for pie. He brought out a piece of pumpkin pie that looked absolutely fabulous. He took the first bite, and paused...... took a second bite, then paused again. "What kind of pie is this?" "Pumpkin, stupid! What kind does it look like?" "Well, it just doesn't taste like it." was his reply. I'll show him. I got up to get a piece for myself, and sat down to take a bite. Hmmm, there's something different here. It tastes kinda like squash. Why would that be? Oh, no! "Dang! I forgot to put in the sugar!" I yelled out. We had a great laugh about that. We salvaged all 4 pies (can't say I'm not consistent) by putting some of my famous pumpkin dip on top like whipped cream, and they were wonderful. Now every year someone calls to remind me to put sugar in the pies. I don't think I will ever forget again. Well, maybe once or twice.

Next, I am thankful for pilgrims and Indians. My family has a personal history in Thanksgiving. My Father actually has a grandmother somewhere back on the line that is a wampanoag Indian. That is the tribe that owned Long Island and sold it to the pilgrims. Yes, Folks, he is related to Squanto. Beat that for family history at Thanksgiving. How lucky are we to actually have had ancestors in attendance on the first one?

Third in the list today is mailboxes. I am grateful that someone brings mail to my house. Even doctors don't come to your door anymore. When I was in junior high, we lived in Hyde Park. I loved this town. I made some really great friends that I still keep in touch with. I had a great time living there. One thing about this town was that we didn't have mailboxes at our house. You had to go to the tiny little post office to pick up your mail. It was about 4 or 5 blocks away, at least. (I never really counted, though.) I was a kid, so it wasn't so bad to walk. When I was 14, I went to my first youth conference and met a young man from Bountiful. His name was Kevin Livingston. We ended up writing for awhile, but I never told my parents about him. He would call me and tell me that he was sending a letter, so every day I would rush to the post office before my parents could get there. What would I do if they found his letter before I did? How humiliating. My Dad was a big believer in meeting the young men we knew, and I didn't want that. I would grab a friend and head to the post office in anticipation, and if my parents beat me to the punch, I would panic until I found the mail at home, all the while pretending to be completely calm and nonchalant. Yeah, right. I am sure that my parents knew something was up. 14 year olds can't hide anything. Since when did I volunteer to get the mail? After awhile, I was busted. It was actually the long distance phone calls that did it. I should have thought that out better. We just gradually stopped writing, and it's not like we had anything interesting to say. Just things like, "My friend fell down the stairs today." or, "My sister is teasing me, and won't leave me alone." I mean, really. What a waste of postage. These days they just text people. I had to use paper and pencils, and envelopes and stamps. Remember those? All those paper cuts and callouses......

How do you feel about cars? So often when I am driving, I can't help but think about the pioneers. What would they think about how easily we can get from place to place? If you had a chance to meet a pioneer that crossed the plains in today's modern world, do you think they would be frustrated that the Lord made them walk so far and suffer so much, losing so many lives in the process? Or would they just be amazed? What an incredible thing it is to have the ability to get from place to place in such a short time. I think they would be happy that we have been so blessed and feel so furtunate to have been a part of building such a great place for us to live, but I'll bet you in the back of their mind there would be a few stray thoughts of, "Hey, I feel cheated!"

The last thing I want to write about isn't such a comedic piece. I am grateful that I have a family. Doug and I didn't always have that. We went ten years without being parents, and even if you try to look on the bright side, having the desire to have a family gets you down. I know that we were lucky to have each other. It's just, there is no substitute for the blessing that you so desire, but are denied. We have some solace in the knowledge that it will come in the eternities, but in this earthly body, things can be hard to take. I cannot tell you how hard it was when Doug's father passed away, and all of Doug's siblings had their own children. Looking back, I know why we didn't now. But it was so hard to lose a family member you loved so much, and be denied children of your own. You are unable to continue the family that you care for so deeply, and you will never be able to pass on the stories and talents of the man that meant so much to you. Your family history is ending with you.

Holidays were days to be avoided as much as possible when things got emotional. I had a hard time sitting through Thanksgiving when everyone said they were thankful for their children. Halloween is hard to open the door when you know that none of the children on the other side belong to you. No costumes to make, no candy to sort at the end of the night. What is an easter egg hunt without children? You can color the eggs yourself, but where is the amazement of a child that thinks it is so cool that eggs can be different colors? On Christmas, where is the joy that comes from opening presents? No excitement over stockings hung by the chimney with care. So many times we just didn't want to get up on Christmas day. There were no little feet running to see what Santa had put under the tree. More than once, Doug and I would go to a party with adults in our ward. So many times women turn the subject to being pregnant and childbirth. I distinctly remember those times of fighting back the tears. I remember a couple of times looking over at Doug, and he would look at me, and we could read each other's thoughts. "Do you think we could escape and go home yet, without being rude?" Even men talk about their children, or sports. Doug insn't into sports, either.

Then a glorious thing happened. My sister called one day. That phone call changed our lives. Suddenly, there is a reason to get excited for Christmas morning. We love easter egg hunts even more now. Halloween is a thrill. Coming up with costumes and party ideas, having her help pick out the candy, and then showing us all her loot at the end of the night. What could I have done in heaven or earth to deserve such a gift? The amount of gratitude I have for her birth mother is overwhelming. Do you know how hard it is to pick up your phone and ask a woman to give you her child? How can you ask such a thing of her that you, yourself couldn't do? I will never pretend to understand how hard it was to have a little girl for almost 3 years, and then give her away. I can only understand my experiences on holidays. I can't imagine what it was for her. I just know that everyday when I get out of bed, I am acutely aware of how much I owe this woman. I will never be able to repay her, but will have overflowing gratitude for her. For eternity.

Day 6 and almost done.

Random picture of Miriam in American Fork canyon as it begins to snow on our camping trip a few years ago. Notice Doug in the background taking down the tent as fast as he can?


First today is teeth. I am so grateful that I have my teeth. My daughter is having pain because she is losing a tooth, and says she can't wait until this is all done. She just wants to have them removed and have all the permanent ones finally in. She always seems to have problems with her teeth coming in, most likely because of her "past life issues" according to her dentist. She was allergic to milk as a baby, and then had some injuries to her mouth that moved things around a bit. I always feel bad when this happens to her. Tonight as we consoled her and told her that this too shall pass, I was reminded of an experience that happened to me when I was young, probably 7 or 8. (Don't ask how long ago that was.) I had a loose tooth in front. Not very loose, just barely. One night we were having corn on the cob, and I bit into something hard. It kinda grossed me out, like biting into a piece of bone in a hamburger. Wondering what could possibly be in my mouth that shouldn't be, I decided to spit out the contents of my mouth. As I leaned over my plate, I looked down at my corn. There was blood all over. I was immediately sick to my stomach, and thought that the food in my mouth might come out all on it's own. Oh, the horror. As I tried to settle down, I spit out the hard little object to find it was one of my front teeth. I couldn't eat corn on the cob for years after that. I must admit, I still have a certain aprehension about it. It just never seems appetizing to me.

Second comes waffles. I love mornings when we have waffles. I don't make them that often because they take so long, but if you are ever in the mood for the best waffles ever, find the recipe for Martha Stewart's waffles. They are wonderful. Being from scratch, I only make them maybe once a year, but it is worth it. The recipe makes such a large quantity for a family of 3, that I can freeze the extra's and we can have them anytime we want. (Hmmm, maybe that's not such a good thing.) I have always heard that waffles were created when some guy in his suit of armor sat on his bread, or something like that. What kind of moron sits on bread while wearing armor? You can barely walk in it, let alone sit. What about all those stories of lifting the knights on their horses by wooden cranes? And who put the bread there, anyway? If you had lunch for a guy covered in metal, wouldn't you make sure you handed it to him? How on earth is he supposed to pick it up while wearing chain mail gloves? It would be like trying to eat a sandwich while swimming with sharks. I actually did a bit of research, and the word waffle comes from the word wafer, referring to a batter cooked in a patterned iron. (I like a nice floral pattern, myself.) To make this an even better story, would you believe that they were first served in the US in 1620 by pilgrims fron Holland? How appropriate for this week. I swear that I had decided to talk about waffles before I looked them up. Thomas Jefferson actually made them a popular party food when he brought over a waffle iron from France. Suddenly, my own waffle iron that I thought was ready to be replaced seems like a family heirloom. I did recieve it on our first married Christmas from my mother-in-law, after all.

Third would be eyeliner. I know that most women would just categorize this as makeup, but I want to be specific in this case. Eyeliner can be a wonderful thing. It has the amazing ability to make me look like I am actually awake, as opposed to looking like I just woke up. I have tried to go without it, but always regret it. The first time Doug ever saw me without makeup, he was completely stunned. (This was about 1989, I wore very heavy eyeshadow back then.) He just couldn't stop staring. When I finally got up the nerve to ask him and a friend of ours (Travis) to please stop staring, they both replied, "Sorry, but you just don't have any eyes. It's so weird." I went to work at Cabela's a couple of times without it, (I had to open the store at 5:30. The eyeshadow and mascara made it, just no eyeliner.) and people asked me all day long if I felt ok. Over and over, I would get the same question. One of the store managers even asked me if I needed to go home once. I should have taken him up on it. Nobody ever believes me when I say, "I'm fine, I'm just not wearing eyeliner." "Whatever. If you don't want to talk about it, that's ok." is usually the reply. Now I just take advantage of it. When I need a day off, I just show up au-naturale, and even Doug will give me sympathy. Not as much as he used to, though. I guess I just always look tired now. Age and parenthood both do that to a girl. A double whammy.

Fourth is british comedies. Doug and I have been watching british comedies on KUED ever since we were married. I thoroughly enjoy them. Some are not so great, and being british, you have to be choosy about which ones you watch. Their morals are a bit different when it comes to acceptable viewing material, but I still find a few that are great. We can watch them over and over. I think it is because you have to learn the british vernacular. They have many words that are different than us, and if you don't understand it, I guess it would seem like the most boring thing ever created. Or maybe you just have to have a warped sense of humor like Doug and I do. Currently, there is one called "Good Neighbors" from the 1970's that I just love. A couple decide to live entirely self sufficient, so they dig up their grass and start planting gardens, raising goats and chickens (see yesterday's posting), weaving their own clothes, and making their own pea pod wine. How on earth would you ever undertake that in English suburbia? Their properties aren't big enough for that sort of thing, and it bothers me every time I see it, but the show is a riot. It also makes me grateful for what I have, because they are always so broke. I feel like a Rockefeller or Vanderbuilt when it is over. Miriam and I have also come to love "Rosemary and Thyme". That is a murder mystery now on KBYU, in case you are unfamiliar. Ironically, the same woman stars in both shows. Just a few decades apart. She plays a botanist/landscape architect that always seems to find a murder in her work. Gardening must be dangerous work. Glad I don't do much of it. Yet.

Lastly, bring on the mirrors. I remember the first time Miriam saw herself in a mirror. Her birth mom is blind, so she had never seen her reflection. She was fascinated with herself. How often do you use a mirror? We can't even drive our cars without a few. We have them in our bathrooms, even in churches, where looks are supposed to be unimportant. We carry them in our purses, sometimes in wallets, they are used in emergency kits, and to decorate our homes and buildings. We use plate glass windows as mirrors as we walk by a store. We even have mirrors that have 3 sections so you can use the outside two to see the back of your hair. This brings up the question: What did they do before that? How did people know what they looked like in bible times? If someone put up a wanted poster, how did you know it was you? It's not like water gives that good of a reflection all the time, all the ripples and waves...... How long did you have to sit by the shoreline to get a good look at yourself? I know why the woman at the well was there. She was looking for still water. Did you go through life thinking that your nose was bigger than you head from the distortion of the waves on the surface? How did they know the back of their hair looked ok? I mean, they just wandered around with ugly hair. That must be the reason for having your head covered at all times.

Day 5 and still plugging.

#1: Today I am thinking I am grateful for garbage disposals. I know that it is not the usual thing that people talk about when they say they are grateful for something, but since when have I been normal? I was thinking today, as I scraped dishes into the sink, that it is one of those wonderful inventions that people take for granted. The last couple of years of elementary school, and through junior high, we had animals, mostly chickens. We were not allowed to throw scraps away, but instead were required to put it all in the garbage bowl that sat next to the sink. Then at some point, whenever it was too full, or at night, whichever came first, we took it out and fed it to the chickens. I can still remember the sloppy sound of it all landing on the ground in the chicken coop. They would immediately attack, heaven forbid you got in the way of this most delicious treat. Eventually, you would have to clean out a few cantaloupe rinds that they just never seemed to finish off. Ahhh, good times. Occasionally the bowl would start to smell a bit, particularly in the summer. That was the time we emptied it nearly every meal. I always thought it was weird that we put eggshells in the pile to take back out to feed the chickens that gave us the eggs in the first place. Isn't that a form of cannibalism, or something?

#2: Keys. How many times a day do you use a key? The world being what it is, we use them so much more than I remember as a child. Today Doug and I went with his sister and her husband to grab something for dinner, and when we came out, we thought we lost the key. Turns out Doug had it the whole time, and all 4 of us were searching under the seats and under the vehicle for nothing. This made me remember when I was about 8 or 9, my family went on a trip to New Mexico to visit my uncle for several days. With as many kids as we had, this was a long trip. For the first time that I remember, my dad locked up the house. We always had someone home. We weren't even sure which key to use. When we left, everything was locked up tight. We thoroughly enjoyed the trip, all of the kids in the camper, and Mom and Dad in the cab of the truck. I think this was the trip that my pillow caught on fire, but that's another story. When we arrived home, completely exhausted and ready to be back in our comfy home, Dad realized that he couldn't find the house key. We spent awhile trying to break in, but we had done a fantastic job of locking up. Eventually dad found a mastercard in my mom's wallet, and proceeded to break in using a credit card. I was fascinated. I didn't even know you could do that. See how educational vacations can be? You should all know that I am proud to say that I can break into my home with a credit card in mere seconds. I have had lots of practice. Lots and lots and lots......

#3: Junk mail. No, I have not lost my mind. No, I don't want more of it, either, so please don't even think of putting me on your mailing list. Unless it's a Christmas card. Or birthday present. Or money. I prefer the latter, just in case you were wondering. Every day there is the ritual trip to the mailbox to see what items the local stores think I can't live without. If you are brave and dare to open the plethera of ads we are assaulted with every day, (all those poor trees...) You are then enticed into believing that you are never going to find a better deal, or better merchandise, and that your life will be a complete waste if you do not have the latest and greatest items to claim as yours. You can always justify the desire by saying "What a great deal! I better jump on this, because I will never find it for this price again." Or, "What if the Jones's down the street have one? I can't be outdone, I must have this before I plummet off of the social ladder I have worked so hard to climb! My neighbors will shun me if I don't have an apron that looks like a gingerbread man!" This is why I have learned to love these ads. I can look through every one of them, and I am now completely unaffected. I am immune to their ability to suck me in to their distorted reality. I laugh at them! I am so proud of the skill I have learned. They have no power over me. None at all. (Or maybe, just maybe it is the fact that I can't afford it, but I doubt it. I am sure it is my personal power that makes me so resistant to it's effects.)

#4: Candles. I first started collecting candles when I was 15. I was in an airport in Indianapolis, coming home from a band trip. (We won, of course.) I was wasting time in a gift shop when I came across some really cute candles that smelled fantastic. I bought 5 of them and brought them home. They sat on the shelves in my room, and every few months or so, I would pull one or two down and reminisc about the trip. I think that was the first time I ever smelled pina collada. I loved it. That started my candle collection, and in a short time I had shelves and dressers full of them. I had one that I loved that was purple and made of wavy lines all connected at the top, one that looked like an owl, and one of my favorites, a house. A couple of friends gave me a candle that looked like a little house that you would put in a Christmas scene, and to go with it, they found an actual christmas ornament that looked just like it. It had an opening in the bottom for a light to go in and it would light up the whole house. I loved it. I had that ornament for years. I still wonder what happened to it every Christmas. Even today I love to decorate my house with candles. I have a tendency to put them everywhere. I have 12 in my kitchen, alone. There are candles that are pretty, some that smell wonderful, (my fav is Christmas Eve by Salt City Candles) and some that just look good with the other things they are next to. Still others are strictly utilitarian, like my lamp that has a utility candle in it. I love my candles. They just happen to be useful, too. We are never short of something to light when the power goes out. Just be careful what you stand next to, my house is somewhat flammable, and so is your hair.

#5: Mountains. I love the mountains. I enjoy the greenery and the rivers and streams. For this topic, I am referring to my specific mountain that I see outside my living room window. I love to watch the change of seasons on the mountain. I watched the leaves change color from green, to yellow and bright red, to a softer brown and red, to just the muted browns. Now I can watch the clouds swirl over it, and see the snow line getting lower. Along one side, there are little trees that look like some kind of animals grazing on the Serenghetti, or maybe some strange dinosaurs from a long forgotten world. It instantly transports me to another land for a few moments. No, I have not been overdosing on pain meds, I just love that I have this exceptional view of a mountain in my living room window. I bet you are envious. You wish you had dinosaurs in your window, too, don't you? I knew it. You will just have to come and visit me now.

Day 4 and still grateful.

This is just a random picture that I thought I would post. It is Miriam outside the Mt. Timpanogos Temple after we had been sealed. What a great day. Talk about things to be grateful for.

Today I have to say that I am grateful for church. Last week we couldn't go, the family was infested with the flu bug. Sunday never feels right without church. The whole day feels awkward, like I left part of me behind in my dreams the night before. It makes the whole week feel a bit off, and I never seem to recover until the next Sunday. Today we went to church and I could almost sigh with relief, until we were asked to speak in church next week. You'll never guess what the topic is......Gratitude. What are the odds that the week after Thanksgiving we would get that topic? Pretty darn good, obviously. Maybe we should have come down with another illness and skipped another week. Ah well, it's a new ward to us, why prolong the inevitable. I thought it was slightly ironic that I would be blogging about gratitude, and then have to speak about it. I thought that Doug and I should send out a message to everyone and ask for advice on what you would want to hear or say about the subject, so leave your comments before you go, they are most welcome.

Today I am grateful for nylons. Stupid, I know, but with pasty white legs like mine, something must be done. I would hate to be responsible for some sort of accident because someone had to shield their vision because of the glare coming from my exceedingly white legs. Besides, it just wouldn't be right to go to church barefoot in sandals or pumps, etc. It just feels wrong. Like going to the temple in shorts.

I am also grateful for parents. My mom called this afternoon. It always feels good to have your parents call, because you realize they still love and care about you, and didn't forget about you. Growing up in a big family, I think I sometimes felt that they were just counting the days until the next one moved out. 40 years of being parents has to get old at some point. It's just nice to know they didn't just fling me out into the world to fend for myself without knowing that they still care. (Ok. That sounded like they threw me out the door, didn't it? Well, it only hurt when I bounced on the pavement.)

I love music. I love to sing, I love to listen to it, you would think that someday I would learn to play an instrument. So far, I haven't woke up in the morning to the sudden realization that I have magically learned any instruments through osmosis, so I guess if I want that to change, I better get busy. Every Sunday I play LDS music to get us in the mood for church. The idea is to put me in a good mood, so when I have to harass my daughter to "Please get your hair done, and yes, you do have to wear tights, and don't you dare leave the house without brushing your teeth, and no, I don't know where you last had your scriptures", I can be nice about it. I thought that I was the only one paying attention, but Doug announced to me last week while we were all home with the flu, that he wanted me to put on my Sunday stuff to listen to. I was stunned. I must have looked at him like he had lobsters crawling out of his ears, because his reaction was, "What? I like the feeling of the house when you play that, and it just isn't Sunday without it." Is your tithing paid up, folks? Because the world is about to end......

I am also grateful for home teachers. I love that they take the time out of their lives to come over. I know that it is a calling, and that often they come out of obligation, but I don't care. It is a wonderful thing to see these men care about their families so much. We have moved a lot, and home teachers are one of the best ways to get to know people and what is going on in the ward. If they don't know something, more than likely their wives do. Behind every good man is a good woman, right? (The answer to that is yes. Obviously. Absolutely. What would the church be without those good Relief Society women? If you care to dispute that, call your compassionate service leader and maybe she will let you cry about it on her shoulder. I am pretty sure that after that, you will come around to my way of thinking.)

4 days 'til Thanksgiving, people. Start thawing out those turkeys.

Day 3 of gratitude and counting.

This morning I woke up and thought "I am so grateful for breadmakers." Doug and I both love to wake up to the smell of bread baking. It's almost as good as Christmas morning. Almost. I have decided that bread machines are one of my favorite appliances. I have had mine since 1993. I don't think that when I bought it I ever imagined it would last that long. I had visions of all sorts of goodies and wonderful creations that I would create with this new toy. Ahhh, the brilliant baker I would become, and amaze my friends and family. (insert laughter here......) I admit that I haven't used it as much as I thought I would, but several times a year I pull it out, usually in the fall. I have yet to use the making jam feature, and once or twice I tried rice, but who wants to wait for 45 minutes to cook white rice? Sheesh. Bread machines make great french toast bread. No, I do not have a magical button that turns my not-so-labor intensive bread into french toast, but if I can get to the loaf of crusty, warm bread before it is eaten, then I love to make a great breakfast with it. Just keep your mitts off until then. Got it?

Movies. This afternoon, I went to see Twilight with Tammy. Years ago, Tammy and I were roommates. I had so much fun talking about how ridiculous we were, or she was, because I am sure that I was NEVER ridiculous. I would never humiliate myself, or put my foot in my mouth, (they're too big) or do anything that would make me seem like an idiot. I am perfectly behaved. (Didja feel that? All that sharp whit and sarcasm? I know. You envy my ability to make jokes out of the simplest of subjects. Actually, I regularly make a fool out of myself. It just seems to come so naturally, and I don't seem to be growing out of it. Too bad.) Anyway, back to movies. I thought Twilight was a great movie, and very well done, but I love movies in general. Any excuse to watch a movie, and I am on it. Any at all. It's Friday. Let's watch a movie. I did the laundry, let's watch a movie. Got milk? Let's watch a mooooovie.

Rolaids. I know that this seems a ridiculous thing, but I must say publicly how I appreciate that someone in the world created such a thing. I have some medical issues that require that I keep my digestive fluids (gross, I know.) in check. Not doing so could cause me to end up in a highly drugged state in the emergency room. Been there, done that. Don't want to do it again, thank you very much. So again, I must say thanks to the anonymous people that make antacids that I am actually allowed to take.

Pillows. I love pillows. Not the decorative ones that are so hard you could use them as a weapon, no matter how cute it is. Don't get me wrong, they are wonderful decorations. I can appreciate a decorative pillow with the best of them. I just love big, soft, fluffy pillows that your head sinks into when you lay down. Pillows that you can smush and cuddle with. Pillows that you don't want to walk away from when you get up in the morning. Hmmmm, maybe I should change my pillows so I could get up easier in the morning...... Nah. Not gonna happen.

Weekends. I love weekends. Not like I did when I was a kid, because in those days it meant no school, lots of friends, and Dukes of Hazard on Friday night TV. Now I love weekends because my family gets to be together. Doug works practically sun up to sun down. Between his day job and teaching scuba at night, we rarely have time together. Those moments on the weekends make the previous week seem not so long. We never actually do much, because Doug likes to be home, it's a novelty to him. It is just nice to have him here. We can spend the weekend being bored together, so that when Monday rolls around again, we can all give a sigh of relief that we made it through the weekend, and can settle down to the week ahead. Why am I never content with where I am? Still, that time we have to talk and laugh together is wonderful. Besides, someone has to eat all the delightful creations that come out of my bread machine.

Day 2 of giving thanks.

I guess under water, it doesn't matter if they speak different languages.



Hands off, girls. One of them is mine. The other is taken, too.

Today I have been grateful for friends. Last night we were able to take a good friend, Dustin, and his wife, Camila (who is now a good friend as well), to the pool while Doug taught her to scuba dive. She speaks Portugese, so it came in handy that Dustin could translate. (I suppose it is always nice to be able to speak to your wife.) Doug and I first met Dustin when they were learning to hangglide about the same time. There have been so many years... and injuries, since then. Yes, Dustin, I AM talking about you. It was fun to see them. While they were doing book work at the house, however, a friend that Doug used to work with stopped by with his wife to see our new cabinets. Thank heaven we have something other people need, or we would never see anyone.

Next, I was thinking that I am grateful for eyebrows. Don't laugh. I'm serious. Ok, truthfully, I thought it was more funny than anything, but think about it. What if you didn't have any? Would you really want to send out a picture on your christmas card? I have decided that I know why we are freaked out by aliens. They don't have eyebrows. Now you are trying to think of any freaky aliens that have eyebrows, aren't you? The only ones I know of are living inside a human body, and that is freaky all by itself.

Thirdly, washers and dryers. I just love clothes, blankets, and towels that are freshly laundered. That does not mean I enjoy doing laundry, just that I love warm blankets and towels, and everything smells so good. I wish you could keep that warmth to snuggle in on a cold night, or while watching a movie. Which makes me also ask: Why are movie theaters so cold all the time? It has nothing to do with my washer and dryer, but I want to know. I don't get cold often, but I am always a bit cold in theaters. I'm just wondering. If you have a brilliant answer to that, (or any answer, really), let me know.

Fourth, would be sunlight. I don't always think about the light that is always there. I tend to take it for granted. I love the way it shines in my windows in the morning, and makes me happy for the rest of the day. I even love it in the afternoon, as it shines in my kitchen window. Our faucet in the kitchen always has one drop of water hanging from it, like a rain drop about to fall, but it just stays there. Not enough gravity in that particular area, I guess. As the sun gets lower in the afternoon, it shines through that drop, and it looks like a crystal hanging from the faucet. You have to catch it just right, though, because the sun moves too quickly for it to last. Shortly after that, the sun is shining in through the window, and lighting up the opposite wall. This is the time we avoid the kitchen, because of all the accidents. Nobody can see. It is blinding and causes many crashes from walking into things... and people. I have run into the counters, and bashed my forehead far too many times. As if that isn't bad enough, you turn around to get away, and there it is again, blinding you from the reflected glare on the stainless steel refrigerator. You're hungry? Too bad. Suffer. I am not going in to fix dinner until I can see again. I hope the damage to my retinas heals quickly.

Lastly, my closet. I love that when someone unexpectedly comes over, I have a closet with doors that close. It hides many things that I do not want out for public viewing. Ok, I am talking about the pile of unfolded laundry, and undies that always seems to spend more than it's fair share of time on my bed. All the lonely socks that can't find a mate, the shirts that have stains on them that I didn't see until AFTER I had washed them, and are now taunting and laughing at me, because I have to deal with them all over again. Into the closet they go, until I get a chance to take them out the next day, and add them to the already growing 'new' pile on the bed. Do they ever go away? YUP! They can taunt me all they want, because I know something they don't. Eventually, they will have to be replaced, because they will be outgrown or lost somewhere (probably under a shoe in my closet, I have big feet). Let's see them laugh at that.

Gimme a break, I had a terrible headache that had just reduced in size from an ostrich to an emu, and Doug was coming down with the flu. We had a good time, though.

Things to be thankful for......

I have been thinking all month that I should be writing about all the things I am thankful for. It is November, after all, but the month started out against that idea. Our internet went down, and to make a long story short, we found a new provider. By then, it was a good week and a half into the month, so I missed the opportunity to do a full month of Thanksgiving. As my second option, I decided to do seven days of Thanksgiving, instead. Today is day one.

Number 1:

The first thing on my list this year must be: MY HEALTH. I have had a couple of rough years, and it is nice to start feeling human again. I am not one hundred percent, but it doesn't matter at this point. There were too many days when I wondered what the outcome would be, and I am happy to be moving in the right direction. Those days aren't gone, just farther and fewer between.

Number 2:

Talents. The talents I have, because I enjoy the things I can do. As we all should. I do not mean that you should all enjoy the things I can do, although I would be ok with that, but that we should all enjoy the talents we have been given. Sometimes I don't think it's that big of a deal, until someone says thank you. Then I have a reality check.

Number 3:

Toothpaste. Seriously, think about it. 'Nuf said.

Number 4:

Computers. I love the opportunity to learn new things, and lets face it. Computers are about the only thing that change faster than fashion and hairstyles. I love finding new things I can do with them, and being reminded of things I used to do, but forgot about. Let's just leave all the card games out of the equation.

Number 5:

Internet. I know that it probably falls under the computer heading, but I have very different reasons for being grateful for this, especially since we were without it so much in the last few months. I love that I have found so many people that I lost track of. I have moved so much, there are so many I drifted apart from. How fun is it that you can find long lost friends, and talk to them every day? The ability to see pictures of them makes me realize that we are still those little kids, that even though we have many more years behind us, we are still the same people. I also love that you can find the answer to ANYTHING. I dare you to come up with a question that you can't find something about. I double dare you. I triple dog dare you. (I know, slight breach of ettiquette, but I am going for the throat.)

That's it for today. There will be more Thanks - Giving tomorrow, so check back in. Same turkey time, same turkey channel.