Not-so-obvious Blessings

I figured now was a good time to express my gratitude for a few things that I may not have been grateful for earlier but have come to really appreciate.

1. Nate losing his job in Arizona was one of the best things that could have happened because it enabled him to get a job back in Utah that was so much better than any previous job and that lets us live so close to our family.
2. Sofia crying so much for so many months has helped me really appreciate how happy she is now. It also makes it a little easier to wink at some of the messes, etc. that she's always getting into.
3. Not getting any work this year (except for the one manuscript that paid for all the car problems) has given me more time to spend with the kids and to renew friendships. I've gotten to have nearly weekly lunches with Jenny, go scrapbooking with Mom and Keri, spend more time with Mike and Megan, learn all sorts of new things like how to make bread and pie, and learn to budget and coupon.

I'm so grateful for so many things, and I hope you each have a happy Thanksgiving!

My Last Supper

A photographer named Melanie Dunea asked professional chefs from around the world to share what they would eat for their last meal, what they would drink, what the setting would be, who would be there, and who would prepare it. It's had me thinking about it all day. What would I want to eat? The easiest part is who I would want to eat it with--all my friends and family would be invited. Might as well make my last meal on earth into a party, right?

The setting could be anywhere, as long as people are willing to crowd in, but I guess in a perfect world it'd be nice to find some luxury cabin with picture windows and a stunning view of Yellowstone or a huge house right on the beach. I'd like to pitch in on the prep. I love to cook, and I really enjoy cooking with other people, so I think I'd want in the kitchen (or on the grill) anyone who wanted to help in the kitchen. And maybe hire a professional sushi chef for the night. There would be plenty of drinks: sparkling juices, fresh fruit lemonades (especially blueberry), cider, wassail, and hot chocolate.

Now the real question is what this perfect last meal would entail. I really think I'd like a buffet that has all of my favorite foods in it, so everybody else could have a taste and so that I could have a tiny bit of tons of things that I love. Yes, I'd have sushi; Dad's BBQ chicken; Nate's grilled salmon; sweet potatoes; salad with craisins, feta, and walnuts; stroganoff and rice; chili and cornbread; and lots of fresh fruits and vegetables to munch on. For dessert, warm peach and apple pies, key lime pie, and brownies ala mode.

So now I want to know what your last supper would be. Feel free to be as detailed as you want!

"Pushing Daisies" is pushing daisies!

I'm just writing this post to lament the passing of one of my favorite shows. Quirky, original, colorful, the show never ceases to entertain. It has lively banter and fabulous narration by Jim Dale (how could you not love the man's voice?), and it has everything that I love: mystery, comedy, and romance. The actors are all phenomenal, particularly Lee Pace as Ned the pie man and Kristin Chenoweth as Olive Snook.

I'm still in disbelief that ABC has canceled it, especially given the three Emmys it won and the dozen others that it was nominated for. It just needed more time to gain an audience. I keep hoping that some other network will see it for the gem it is and pick it up. In a perfect world, I suppose.

In the meantime, here's to the awesome show that almost was!

Giving Thanks

I love this time of the year so much! It's great to pause and remember all of our blessings, so here are a few of my recent favorite things: A letter from Lauren, one of my Laurels, to tell me how much she loves me, right when I needed a pick-me-up. Sofie finally toddling all over the place and learning to sign "please" and "thank you" because she cries at least 50% less now that she can get around and communicate a little bit. Ryan asking to use the potty two times in a row; it didn't last, but it gives me hope. Running with Warren and Lindsay (2 miles!!). Finding a great deal thanks to the Savvy Shopper! Finding an awesome deal on my own! The Mentalist and Pushing Daisies. Being a pirate for Halloween and finding the whole outfit in my closet. Ryan and Sofie laughing together, even when it means a big mess to clean up later. My coupon organizer. Mom helping me put together 20 tiles! The new Smith's Marketplace across from IMFT. Weekly lunches with Nate (2.3 years and haven't missed a week!). Dishing with Megan. Sanity lunches with Jenny. "It's a New Day!" And the best husband in the entire world!

Thanks to all veterans

Thank you to those who have bravely served our country, especially to Dad Burt, Uncle Bob, Uncle Dick, Don, Richard, Ben, Grandpa Daynes, and Mr. Glenn.

(Below is excerpted from an essay I wrote in high school)

The path veered to the right, and as I rounded the corner, I saw it. There, engulfed by a reverent silence, was the Wall. The black marble monument, know as the Vietnam Memorial, was set in a hillside, effectively blocking the omnipresent din of Washington traffic.It was so quiet that I thought to myself in whispers, though I was fairly sure no one else was listening.

I walked slowly down the declining trail and tried to take in everything at once: the people lining the walks, the sun gleaming off the polished black stone, the sudden cool air that brushed against my skin. At the base of the wall, I reached out to touch it. The black should have been super-heated after spending the entire day in the sun; instead, it was pleasantly cool. The columns of names were each deeply carved under the year in which they died or were declared missing in action. I traced a name in front of me with my finger. The name felt like fine sandpaper, tugging at my skin.Because I was too young to remember the war, I watched as other people reflected on it.

The crowd thinned a little, and I saw a woman in a pale pink dress approach the wall. Her chestnut hair was graying at the temples and base poorly concealed her wrinkles. She knelt at the gutter that ran the length of the wall to gently place an offering in it. Her breath stuttered as a tear escaped down her cheek, then she kissed her fingers, touched them to a name, and walked briskly away. I crept closer to see a mud-encrusted combat boot, creased and cracking at the toes and holding a crimson rose.

Further up the wall was a man in a hospital-issue wheelchair, stringy hair and beard in need of shampoo. His army fatigues were tucked neatly back under his legs at the knees. Between the stumps sat a bottle of whiskey. I fully expected him to take a few swigs from the bottle, but instead he opened it and poured it into the gutter, his piercing gaze only half in the present. A bitter tang rose into the air, and I shuddered.

A whimper broke the silence. Under the "1970" mark, a young father showed his young son and infant daughter a name, while bouncing her in his arms. "This is your grandfather, my father.""When are we gonna see him, huh?" the boy asked impatiently."We can't, Josh. He died a long time before you were born. But you would have liked him. He liked baseball, just like you, and loved to fish and wrestle." They stood there a long while after that, but it was getting late and I had to get home.

I took one last long look at the names in front of me. To my surprise, I noticed behind the neatly engraved names and numbers my faint reflection. I was on the wall too. The dead silently charged the living there that day to remember.