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.