MERRY CHRISTMAS!!

December 24th and the children who are steadfastly waiting on Santa Claus are counting the minutes until bedtime when Santa's sleigh arrives to dispense toys and goodies.

For observant Christians, the 24 of December takes on a reverent hue as the anticipatory night before the Savior of the World arrives to fulfill the prophetic mission for which He was ordained. A star, brilliant in its glorious light, appeared in the night sky. The way was shone by the star to the very place where the infant King lay.

Humble work-a-day shepherds heard of the birth first. Perhaps it is more than fitting that the news, angelic in delivery and message, came to some of the lowliest workers in the entire region. Shepherds, entrusted with the flock, guarding with their very lives the tiny lambs who needed so much care and who spent each night in the field with their sheep knowing them all by name.

Emblematic of the Savior who is indeed the Light of the World and the Good Shepherd of us all, these were no mere accidental coincidences of time. Rather, the message of Isaiah, of Zenos and of Zenock were fulfilled. The Messenger of the Covenant, the Bridegroom to be, He who's right it is to rule and reign in the fullness of time was coming into the world!

They heard the message and obeyed the invitation to come and worship at the rude stable. Shepherds keeping watch over their flock left the fields and came to worship the Shepherd who would keep watch over the flock of the Church. Those who had their eyes open and their heart prepared received the message that this day Salvation had come to the earth.

Wise men, not just kings with loot, but truly wise and prepared men, also saw that brilliant and foretold star. Setting out to cross the trackless wastes and barren desert from oasis to oasis until they reached the humble home of the young child, the Wise Men brought the temporal gifts that would be needed to sustain the mortal existence of the Christ-child. Only the gold, frankincense and myrrh were more than mere gifts. Each priceless even to this day, they represented the best that could be offered to royalty, for Divine Royalty this Christ-child was and is today.

Their journey was long and treacherous and I imagine it to have been difficult. Coming to know Christ is not an easy task and requires much sacrifice and labor. Those wise men had no modern conveyance to bring them and no easy way to arrive in Egypt where Joseph had fled with Mary and the  newborn Jesus to spare him from King Herod's evil and twisted edict.

Herod, ever zealous of his own power, also knew of the prophecies. He would not brook competition to his throne even though the literal Son of God was He who had been foretold. In his cruel and malicious mind, Herod thought if he copied the Pharoah's idea of simply killing all the male children that he could stay the very hand of God and thus retain his earthly power, influence and control.

But God knew ahead of time what was to come and how HIS plan was to unfold.

Prompting Joseph in a dream to take the baby Jesus and his mother and flee to Egypt, God thus preserved the infant King for all that was to come.

Though we focus at this time of year mainly on the birth of the Savior, the story is incomplete without a flash forward through His life and ministry to see the Son of Man who had willingly volunteered to be the sacrifice - the Lamb of God - who would Atone for our sins, suffer, bleed and die for them, then rise on the third day with healing in His wings to make us whole. The Atonement along with the suffering in the Garden of Gethsemane and the Resurrection make possible our opportunity to return to the fold of God - to be lead by The Good Shepherd who protected us and gave His very life for us so that we could return to God one day and be welcome to enter into His kingdom and dwell with God and Christ.

The star that burned bright over Bethlehem that sacred night still burns brightly today. We can also approach and be welcomed into the fold of God and His Christ. Wise men and women still seek Him who is Christ and for those who seek, they shall find. Those who knock will have the very door of Heaven opened up to them.

May your Christmas be merry now and always.

Puppy sitting or sitting on puppies

We have in residence for a few days a rambunctious puppy named Alex.

He is a cute little furball who thinks that we are chew toys and personal servants.

Due to his visit, Gypsy is once again polishing up  her best teeth and offering up her finest holiday growls to this tiny interloper who thinks everything is his and  his alone. Gypsy is educating  him otherwise.

New to the world, this little dude has been treated like a furry sultan. Due to injury to his leg and pelvis, he was shunted away to the animal  hospital at the hands of Beth, who has ensured he received proper treatment for his injuries. Concern for his healing and care has prompted the miniscule mutt to be in residence at the Merrill Mutt Motel.

Alex is learning to do his potty chores outdoors. We've had a few accidents on the way to potty training, but that is normal with a puppy just like with a kid. The only difference is that generally there isn't a lot of additional laundry in the attempt until the mangy mutt pees on my slippers. Not cool, Alex, not cool at all!!

Alex has developed a taste (pun intended) for cooking shows on PBS. He cocks his head from side to side trying to discern what the various chefs are attempting to prepare. He sometimes barks at the screen. I believe this to be his way of saying "HEY!! Don't put booze on that steak!" I wholeheartedly share his sentiment.

Alex has also learned that the radio is not some sort of mutant life form. The first day or two, he wasn't too sure about that as he glared at the radio with a jaundiced eye, wary of where those tiny music producing Christmas violins might be hiding.  

The other night, we discovered he had left a "holiday gift" beneath Jared's bed. The aroma was sufficient to lead  us right to the unwrapped present. Alex  had the nerve to smile and laugh his puppy laugh about it.

While I have received some "interesting" gifts during the Christmas season, I can  honestly say this is the first time I wanted to give one back. Well played, Alex, well played.

I'm sure in his tiny evil puppy heart, he was planning on blaming the mess on Jared... or Gypsy. But wise to the ways of wicked pups, Gypsy quickly refused the blame and barked directly on Alex' head.

Out to the pen in the yard to finish emptying the "poop valve" which is apparently attached to a secretly enclose 10 gallon tank, you would have thought we were beating Alex with all the pitiful howling and barking he was doing. The neighbors even came over to see what the ruckus was. Bad dog!

Once they saw Prince Pig in the pen doing  his best "feel sorry for me" impression, they were as unmoved as we were. No one let him  out until his potty chores were complete - for the moment.

Gypsy has been pretty good shepherding Alex around. He now knows that the door out to the back yard is the "potty door". Easily navigating the steps up and down, he is able to go out without us having to carry him like a sack of spaghetti.

What is it about children and dogs??? You pick their formerly solid frame up to relieve the "potty dance" before disaster strikes (generally after a bit of trickling has begun!) and suddenly they are like a Ziplock of Jell-O that no longer  has either bones or the will to move on their own!!

The other day, as Gypsy had decided she had been patient enough with Alex chewing on her and barking and attacking her, she simply sat on him... and smiled. It was like "kid, you bother me". Hilarious! Reminded me of when Nana was guesting in our home and was learning the ropes from the old hand, er, uh, make that old paw.

Right now, the house is deceptively quiet.

Both hounds are sleeping.

It won't last.

Soon, the pizza guy will show up at the nursing home across the street and the revelry will begin. Gypsy HATES the pizza guy. His truck has an annoying whine that must hurt her ears. Plus, he never even offers her so much as a crust from the pizzas.

Then, when the barking starts, Alex will attempt to show you just how big and bad he is. Tiny mouth screwed up into the perfect little "O" he will bark and howl  his bad to the bone self into exhaustion.

Always funny to watch.

Back to the chores of the day. Best let sleeping dogs lie.  They won't be there long.

Depends on circumstances

While talking with my friend Sophie about the weird stuff that graces the shelves each holiday season, we got to the theater of the absurd moment.

She was at a store and some woman had on a shirt boldly emblazoned with the following "Sometimes I laugh so hard I have tears running down my leg!"   The implication is that one has managed to pee a bit while laughing and since that is a malady that affects a lot of folks, I can't imagine advertising it. However we all know that there are those kinds of persons who would advertise other bodily function if given less than half a chance.

Of course, if you worked for the Depends company, that might be considered a worthy slogan for product sales. They could give away free t-shirts with every few packs purchased.


Since the folks at Depends have come out with their recent line of colored and patterned briefs for incontinence to make people feel less conspicuous by wearing something that is alleged to be fashionable, I'm quite sure other innovations are coming.

For years, they've had a 'wetness indicator' to help caregivers assist those less able to be freshened up. But what if you are able-bodied, just not always sure if you've "gone" or not? You can't exactly walk around unzipping to see if the color change stripe is blue. People would notice. And if you duck into the bathroom a gazillion times to check for undue moisture, those Depends can and will rip to shreds leaving you pants-less.

The answer is an auditory alert! No ordinary alert however. Mere beeping or buzzing would be embarrassing. After all, this is a technological age and we can do better.

From the second you start to go, a seasonal medley will begin to play. The undies can be crafted to be seasonally relevant and thus play music accordingly. I'm sure no one would notice the music coming from your pants since a lot of people have mp3 songs for ringtones on their cell phones. They would just figure you for one of those clueless folks that doesn't remember to shut off their phone in social settings. You then have the perfect alibi for a quick change... "I've gotta take this..." you mumble absently and leave the room. Everyone would understand. Or at least they'd THINK they understand.

Just imagine - the spring floral print Depends can play "Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head" or "April Showers Bring May Flowers".

Christmas Depends could offer a selection of songs like "Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let it Snow" or maybe a nice "Do You Hear What I Hear" for those moments of sound effects related embarrassment.

Halloween patterned undies could sing a time honored classic "Thriller". Anyone who saw the creepy music video from that song when it first came out surely had the pee scared out of them.

The ideas are virtually limitless. It could open up a whole new market. There could even be a sensor that would wirelessly connect to your personal mp3 player to run through your own chosen medley of songs that remind you when you gotta go... you could cue it to play the GO-GO's.

Or, for those who have things sneak up on them, it would play "Born to Run"...

Wonder if that idea would help with our rising generation of 'connected kids'. It could help them potty train.

And folks, you have just witnessed what happens when a mind becomes a terrible thing that went to waste.

Happy trails.

This is your morning wake-up call!

Feeling tired is a facet of my being.

I see myself coming and going some days and wonder why that tired, harried looking woman doesn't get a nap.

This morning is no exception to that rule thanks to a 3 a.m. wake-up call from Daddy. He doesn't mean to do it, but when he gets his days and nights confused or looks at a clock that no longer really makes sense, he calls.

So 3 a.m. it is...

He is sorry he called. He thought it was three in the afternoon and wanted to know where I was.

I assure him that it is indeed the middle of the night and that he can go back to bed. Deferring that explanation to another time, he is more concerned about his new cell phone being charged up and getting the phone book restored in it. Ostensibly, this is so that he can use it to wake OTHER people. I digress...

After convincing him it REALLY is 3 in the blessed a.m., he hangs up and I attempt to go back to bed. It doesn't happen. Rather than keeping Rick from any sleep, I go to the guest room to struggle out the rest of the time until the alarm sounds.

As per usual, I go to make Daddy his breakfast, he's only two blocks from me and for right now, that is a good thing. Were Daddy to be in residence here, things would likely get ugly. Between Jared's sleeplessness and Daddy's, someone would always be running on empty and I'm reasonably certain that the phrase 'walking dead' would take on a whole new meaning.

When I let myself in, there sits Daddy, fully dressed and chipper and raring to go. Yeah. Having already cooked himself some grits (enough for three people - he only at some of them), he declines to have me make his usual breakfast tray.

We spent our morning time sorting out his phone and correcting phone numbers that need to be either deleted from the memory bank or edited to reflect changes. I realize now I forgot to change Thomas' cell phone number, but that may be for the best. No college student who is working, going to school and trying to sort out married life needs to lose even more sleep than they already do.

I'm not sure what it is about Daddy's dementia that brings on the odd periods of daytime and nighttime confusion. Nor do I understand about Jared's condition creating the same alternate reality of wakefulness. What I am sure about is that when it happens, there are days that BOTH of them are off track and it makes for some pretty exhausting days for me. They don't seem to mind.

Oh well. I guess this just means I have more time to get the laundry done and contemplate whether to make the oatmeal raisin cookies for the Relief Society meeting tomorrow. I know if I lie down the phone will begin to ring... Murphy's Law dictates that to be true.

Daddy once told me that Murphy was an optimist. Based on  how my life runs sometimes, I'm fairly certain that is true. Murphy also apparently didn't believe in sleep because sure as God made little green apples, I will get 3 a.m. wake up calls so long as Daddy is able to grab a phone and reach out and touch someone.

Thanks for Friends

The most valuable things in life are not measured in monetary terms. The really important things are not houses and lands, stocks and bonds, automobiles and real state, but friendships, trust, confidence, empathy, mercy, love and faith. --- Bertrand Russell V. Delong ---

It has been my blessing through my life to have many people with whom I have exchanged friendliness. Some have come for relatively short stretches of time and others have, like the fragrant blossom of the magnolia, lingered around gently and light throughout my life thus far.

While it is truthfully said that our immediate family are those to whom we look as we find our first friends, those others who hold a special place within our hearts that we gather as chosen blossoms become as family.

When I review the passing of the years in the gathering lines of age on my once youthful countenance, I count more valuable the people in my life who are the cause of the laugh lines that have carried me through the hardships of life and who have made possible the remembrances of all the joys that have been mine.

From family and the laughter and love shared through that closely knit and gently cared for fabric of our lives to the addition of those who are woven in until you cannot distinguish blood from choice, friendship is a great blessing and privilege of mortality that extends through the veil of this mortal life through eternity. 

I cannot imagine that vast gathering of souls in God's big house with empty seats where the people who have made life worth living. It would be counter to the joy that is heaven. 

Although thanksgiving often has murmured expressions and prayers of gratitude for THINGS, I feel overwhelmed for the PEOPLE who have come into my life. Like the lyrics of the song "For Good" from the musical "Wicked", there are simply some people in life who come and place a gentle "hand-print on my heart". 

 

From them, the phone call is never to early or too late. The laughs comes easily and are genuine. Tears sometimes flow and the spirit of friendship is renewed in the simplest things. Time doesn't matter and distance doesn't count when friendship is the medium of exchange. It is the rarest blessing and the greatest happiness we can relate to on a daily basis.

Thank you to my friends. God has granted me the most gracious boon. From you, I have learned and grown and with you I have shared both the good and the bad. To you, I owe my deepest thanks, for you have endured all the facets that I am and still consider me your friend.

May God bless all of my friends and grant unto them the most sacred and righteous desires in their  hidden heart at this special season of gratitude. My friends most certainly deserve His blessings for they have enriched and blessed me. 

Happy Thanksgiving!

What is to come?

The ballots have been tallied and Obama received his second term in office.

While I am incredibly disappointed, I am NOT surprised.

Why, you may ask?

We have allowed a perverse notion to take root and flower in this nation. The idea that if you do nothing for yourself and your family even when you are perfectly able to do so that you deserve to be taken care of because you are entitled to it. We have allowed the robber barons of our government to dole out tax dollars to cheats and fraudsters without doing a thing to stop it.

So now, we see them elect their rightful king. A charlatan and poseur who says whatever they want to hear so long as someone else picks up the tab for all the toys and goodies he is dispensing.

To paraphrase Rush Limbaugh, when you have a nation of children, then Santa Claus gets elected.

Santa grants wishes and gives presents and makes promises that hardworking and tired people have to scramble to fulfill or risk the almighty displeasure of people who have no stake in the fiscal side of granting these wishes.

Santa can say "sure, you can have that!" and never be held accountable when Mom and Dad fall through on another persons promises.

Santa can say 'you've been good so you deserve it" and "you are entitled to it because the neighbors have one". Santa can tell someone that if your folks don't pony up, it's because they are scrooges who don't really care about your interests.

It's hard for me to get behind that kind of cosmically warped thinking simply because I'm one of those trying to be responsible parent types who has to face the reality that we cannot afford every single thing that we see. In fact, we cannot afford even half of everything that we see. Any time that a politician promises you ANYTHING, you can rest assured it didn't come from HIS salary. It came from yours.

Santa Claus is a jolly fellow because he never has to actually be in every one's home when the bills come due and the fun is over and hard decisions have to, of necessity, be made. Santa is always pictured as smiling and happy because Santa doesn't have to explain why we are on a fiscal cliff, both as individual families (in many cases) and absolutely as a nation.

Our nation is awash in Chinese red. The ink is indelible. We have allowed our elected representatives to go on for FOUR YEARS without passing a single budget to detail why they are spending like there is a honey pot of money that is bottomless. Now, we have elected Santa Claus for 4 more years of endless spending without any responsibility.

Who picks up the check? It will be multiple generations worth of Americans, if America even exists by the time we are discussing full payoff. And with the growing mentality of "you owe me", that time of payoff will never come because the bill will continue to be passed until NO ONE will want to buy up any of our debt because we are like the mooch who never remembers our wallet but always reminds you how much you have in yours.

I am not bitter. I am sad and frustrated that the entitlement generations of our nation have become so large, so vocal and so powerful that their angry demanding voices can drown out truth.

I will share with you a painful truth that is coming: when the number of people taking completely exceeds the number working to pay for the "free stuff" that isn't really free at all, our nation will collapse like a house of cards in a gale. 
 
And it is not just fiscal issues. The moral turpitude that is becoming "no big deal' is horrifying. People are not perfect. I get that. But giving in to our baser selves and calling it "a lifestyle choice" is not God's will. Not in any measure. When we start to say some sins are just fine, where do we draw the line? Our entire judicial system is based on the Judeo-Christian principles that built our framework of laws. We have elements of the Ten Commandments, the Code of Hammurabi and the English Law that came from our Mother country.

So how do we decide which of our laws can be trampled next? Which of God's commandments no longer matter? I fear for the legacy we are establishing in our nation and which we leave to those generations who will come after us.

They will not be as free, nor will they be as Godly. They will have been raised to believe that the problems will be remedied by 'someone else'.

I pray for our nation and its leaders. But more, I pray for what we will all be compelled to endure together. I pray that we will have the moral fiber to endure the fire that is to come. And I pray that we will not rejoice in the sufferings of others, even when they have brought it upon themselves through unrighteous and unwise choices.


May God have mercy on us if it is right that He should show us any mercy at all.

The Unemployment Line

Our family has officially joined the ranks of those countless millions who are looking for work. Not a happy thought with bills to pay and a mortgage that comes due each month. Kinda have concerns about feeding ourselves a bit as well.

Due to government cutbacks in defense spending thanks to President Korihor, aka Obama, the QinetiQ company did a reduction in force to meet the contract money obligations. And just like that we are unemployed.

Nice. NOT.

The military is the blood and guts that pay the literal price for our freedom. And Obama wants to cut it down to the nub. Ostensibly, his motivation is 'saving taxpayer money'. What he is really doing is killing jobs... not just defense jobs and military enrollment, but all the collateral jobs along the way.

It also gives us a very weak posture in the world where lots of our enemies, some of whom Obama has give money to - cough Muslim Brotherhood cough - are delirious with glee at the prospect of an eventual takeover of our nation. 

We are not earning brownie points for knowing all the words to "Kum Bah Yah" and "I'd Like To Teach the World To Sing" in a world that not only has no desire to join hands and sing with us, but would rather see us destroyed. Instead we are garnering the disdain and mistrust of our longtime allies, their bitter disappointment at our broken promises, the violation of their trust which has been abused and the hearty and wicked laugh filled derision of our enemies, both foreign and domestic, who are completely thrilled at the prospect that our nation can become the delightful socialist/communist/fascist paradisaical utopia they think exists between the leaves of the Lenin and Stalin playbook. Plus, if they can get rid of the world conscience that speaks for, sues for, then bleeds and dies for peace, not just for our nation, but for all nations, then the evil of the world wins.

Unfortunately for them, what sounds good on paper hasn't worked so hot in real life for those many nations compelled to wade through that drama over the last hundred years. Socialism only creates poorer rich and poorer poor. It doesn't make everyone equal, it makes everyone enemies to everyone else. There is not any equality in that playbook - unless you count suffering. There will always be class-ism under the banner of the hammer and sickle. There will always be someone who still manages to have all they want while even more have less than what they need.

Yet Obama and his policies are driving as hard and fast toward that ideology as he can muster. He sees nothing wrong in his plan because his arrogance and narcissism overshadow all else. That every single socialistic nation on the planet is awash in red ink, gasping for air and dying on the vine is no lesson for the man who knows everything and isn't afraid to tell you he does. He also harbors the deep misunderstanding that when a new world order is ushered in, that he will have a place in that order. 

Lacking understanding, he fails to see that no traitor is ever honored by those to whom he sells out. Ever. They are not trusted. They can't be. After all, they have ALREADY proven they will sell their soul for a mess of pottage. So how can they be believed?

Funny thing is that when his arrogance doesn't work out so well, like in the glaring example of Benghazi, Libya, Obama manages to obfuscate, hide, skate figure 8's around the truth, blame others and throw people under the bus of his personal power and charisma all while smiling like he knows so much more than we mere mortals will ever comprehend. And that smile is oily, unctuous and evil.

When I read the scriptures about leaders who are only there for power, it never ends well. From King Nebuchadnezzar to the aforementioned Korihor, those who are self-seeking in their ambitions bring many down to suffering, hardship and sorrow while seemingly never being touched by all the damage that is caused around them.

I also see that when the time of God's judgment comes upon them, the fall is terrible to behold. All who place their trust in the arm of flesh, the mortal arm so fallible and so imperfect, are doomed to fall with the "leader" who has led them far from the safety of the sheepfold and far from the True Shepherd who only sought for their safety in Him.

Knowing that God has a plan and a purpose for all of us, I trust and I pray. Learning through trials IS part of the plan because there are lessons that we must endure in order to become acquainted with God through what we suffer so that we can come to appreciate the Atonement in a way that would otherwise escape our understanding.

The scary truth is that none of us, from those plagued by personal disaster to those most recently harmed by the fury of Hurricane Sandy, is immune to the pain of being mortal. Yet only through these trials can we know what the next step is supposed to be.

Patrick Overton once opined: "When we walk to the edge of all the light we have and take the step into the darkness of the unknown, we must believe that one of two things will happen. There will be something solid for us to stand on or we will be taught to fly."

The issue here before our family is learning that trust in God isn't circumstantial, but preferential. We have to know, not just trust by going beyond faith to a sure knowledge; to learn to see reason as God reasons and to develop the understanding that all of this is for our experience and for our good in His plan and His timing.

The unemployment line is long and stretches through cities and towns across our nation. However, the line I am interested in right now is the line of communication between my Father in Heaven and our little family. We desire to know what the next step is and whether we will land on solid ground, or if we are to fly in a way we never dreamed possible.

All will be explained. I trust this. In the due time of the Lord...

Debate Club

I watched the first of the presidential debates scheduled for the television audience near and far. What I came away with was the feeling that Mitt Romney wants to help America to return to prosperity, constitutional principles and godly, moral behaviors. Obama left me feeling like a substitute teacher watching the biggest snot-wallet in class trying to score points on someone whom he thinks is clueless instead of realizing that he was merely revealing his arrogance and disdain for what he was there to do in the first place.

Maybe I read too much into the evening.

Then again, maybe I didn't.

Absent his familiar friend the teleprompter, Obama was strangely inarticulate. We finally saw what he is really like under pressure when dealing with someone who neither shares his world view or his opinions. What we saw is a person running for student council hoping to have everyone be his friend by saying what everyone wants to hear.

Ours is an AMAZING nation full of incredible people with brilliance that can help the world. What we need now more than anything is a leader who not only sees that divine promise in our country but who believes our place in the world is in front leading the pack, showing the way and holding aloft the light of liberty for everyone on earth who wants to be free.

Last night, I got no sense of that from our current commander in chief. It was a little like watching a small kid sneak into the principal's office and pretend to take charge with no real idea about the work that really goes on in the office. He bluffed and grinned, grimaced and sneered doing his best to look like he knew what was happening but really hoped he didn't get caught unprepared. But unprepared was exactly the truth.

Obama was hoping to skin through the debate on charm. We've had almost 4 full years of his alleged presidential charm. It's wearing thin and tired. Charm only works on the first couple of dates but now that the relationship has progressed, the nation is seeking substance - boring, steady, relentless pursuit of substance.

We've enjoyed the party boy long enough. We've endured the frat house humor and the blame game long enough. It's now time for an adult to enter the room and do what the job and office require - make decisions even when unpopular, work with people who can offer you no advantage, and listen to opinions that you do not agree with in order to understand ALL of the people you are supposed to govern, not just those who are kissing your ass and pretending you are the most brilliant thing since sliced bread.

We need a man who is willing to be a leader, take the flak and keep coming in the passionate pursuit of what is right, though not popular. We need a man willing to say "NO" and mean it even when the pouting, whining and crying are epic in nature. And more than anything, we need a leader more interested in running our nation than running his golf cart and more interested in forging alliances to strengthen our world than in how good he looks on camera.

It's time for someone prepared through life experience, business experience and governing experience in circumstances that were less than idea.

It's time for MITT.

Brad Paisley in Atlanta

It was fun posing with the card-Brad at the Mossy Oak booth, wish it had been real!

Of course, we had our pictures taken with The Band Perry as well. Digital enhancements sure are fun! You can be in the photo with anyone at anytime and anywhere!

Photo booth with The Band Perry, Beth and me 

SEPTEMBER 15, 2012

The Coca Cola Photo Booth

Atlanta is the place.

 

Aaron's Lakewood Amphitheater is the setting.

BRAD PAISLEY IS THE MAN!!

Thank you, Beth!! What an awesome birthday present! 

HOLY COW!! BRAD PAISLEY!!

For the record, going to Atlanta for the two of us is an adventure in how to get lost, get stuck in traffic, get rerouted through hell and half of Georgia and still manage to make it to the hotel in time to change and get a quick nap before the concert.

The intent Saturday morning started out oh so well. We left Athens in plenty of time to drive to the Atlanta temple to catch a session. Or at least that was the intent...

Foolish mortals we, the Devil laughed at our plans and used the Georgia DOT to cause chaos to erupt on the roads and highways all in, around and to Atlanta. I honestly think I have never seen that many orange and white construction barrels! Ever! They littered the highway like so much flotsam and jetsam on the waves. The road narrowed and widened and narrowed again like a Hollywood starlet on a diet, binge and diet again program. It was a vicious game of dodge the big rigs and try not to scrape up Beth's truck 'George' on the cars, trucks, rigs, barriers and dividers all along the board game called the I-20 roadway.

By the time we actually got to the temple in Sandy Springs, we had been delayed on the road for so long it was unbelievable. And, to borrow a phrase from my cousin Alice Waldron, "I should probably eat something... my stomach sounds like a chorus of wild dogs". We both definitely needed food and we weren't going to be able to make it through a temple session without it. We looked at the clock. Holy cow!! It was already past time for current session to be starting, we'd have NO time to change and it would be TWO MORE HOURS until time for the next session by which time we would be late getting to the Amphitheater to find a parking place anywhere within a 5 mile walk.  

CURSE YOU, DEVIL! Those highway construction signs and detoured roads were a deliberate tactic... and it worked. At least this time. There just would NOT be sufficient time to eat anything reasonable and still make it back to the temple in order to do a session!

Atlanta temple no longer has a cafeteria for patrons. Sadness. The nice man at the desk said they had vending machines. That didn't sound helpful to two starving women who hadn't eaten since 5 a.m.

We decided to be prudent and go eat actual food. The vending machine adventure was forestalled until another time. Oddly, neither Beth nor I realized how soon vending machines would enter our lives again! Pay attention! There WILL be a test... probably.

I had a card to eat at "On the Border", a fine Mexican food joint indeed. Although the food is Anglicized, it was truly excellent... so good and so large were the portions, that while we ate all we could of what was served, and it was SOOOO good,  but we soon realized there wasn't enough belly on either side of the table to scarf it all down. And frankly, that's saying a lot, because Beth and I are Mexican food pigs. It was a pity. Truly. A pity. The food was AMAZING and I hated to leave even one grain of rice behind!

Dragging our overstuffed carcasses to the truck after we ate, we meandered along with Beth behind the wheel and me navigating. Yeah, I know, I'm laughing, too. We got checked into the Holiday Inn hotel right across Turner Field. We had an interesting time getting into the hotel at all. The Braves game had been moved up about 3 hours and the streets all seemed to be narrowing down to one lone thoroughfare and IT was blocked off for one way directional flow for the fans seeking parking for the Braves game. Again, Satan laughed in his basso profundo voice and said, "You want to get to your hotel? There it is... the one you are passing! Bwahahahahahaha!"

A nice policeman near the intersection to the back side of the Turner Field parking lot showed us how to maneuver around some side streets working our way around to get to the front of the hotel from some unorthodox methods. Yeah! The hotel! Beth jumped out and checked us in while I sat behind the wheel looking intelligent. (STOP LAUGHING!! That is impolite!)

I got us backed into a parking slot in the parking deck and Beth and I hauled our gear upstairs to our room. The rooms were NOT sequentially numbered. It was like someone had pulled a prank on them and rearranged the numbers as a joke. We finally found the room and dumped our stuff. #417. ICE FREAKING COLD!! Some special "in-DUH-vidual" had turned the AC all the way down to 55 DEGREES!! 

For the record, neither Beth nor I are big fans of freezing our assets off!! Stomping across the room and whipping open the cover for the control panel, Beth turned the AC and heat unit completely off.

We looked at the time. The merciless clock indicated that we didn't have much room for anything besides a quick pit stop in the bathroom, an equally quick change into concert wear of jeans and boots and a brief respite from the trip over hill and dale and dusty trail to get to Atlanta.

NAPTIME! Sounded SOOOO good, but it wasn't part of the plan for me. Couldn't sleep... instead, I read while Beth napped. I was reading a hilarious book about a vet who was new to a practice in England and the pitfalls and troubles of getting used to his coworkers and the pets who were his clients. At one point, I had to literally put my face into the pillow to keep from guffawing too loudly while Beth slept.

The alarm sounded and it was time to find our way to Lakewood. The directions seemed straightforward. But they only SEEMED that way. Even Satan's minions were laughing now. Plainly put, "you cain't git thar from here!" Thankfully, a nice policeman in an "interesting" neighborhood got us back on the right road and headed toward Brad and the concert.

Beth got us into the parking lot fairly close to the action. That turned out to be a really GOOD thing since all the up and down and singing and dancing takes its toll on the old leggy bones. It's one thing to be full of spit and vinegar going INTO a concert and something entirely different when coming out virtually dead but after having had the time of your life. No one in their right mind wants to add a 3 mile hike to that feeling. Okay, mostly no one. I'm sure there are some people who find that "refreshing".

Some seriously cool guitar pickin' skills from Brad!

When the night got underway, it couldn't have been in a more idyllic setting. The Lakewood Amphitheater is tucked into some rolling hills and has a wonderful covered pavilion with a grassy slope behind which Brad referred to as "the cheap seats" during the latter portion of his set. The sound in the amphitheater was AMAZING! Often, sound is lost in an outdoor venue because it just isn't well thought out and the natural terrain eats it up. The people who prepared this location really and truly knew what they were doing. From the quiet of the gentle ballads and their haunting refrain to the full on in your face jams, the acoustics were perfect!

The only downer on the night (which was short-lived thanks to our hero, the big dude the row ahead of us) was the three rude people who kept standing up and blocking everyone's view. We found out that one of the rude persons was the wife of the drummer for Scotty McCreery. She should know better!! Her free VIP entry was paid for by every single person who bought tickets to the show and therefore she of all people should have been more respectful to the people behind her!!! 

Some of those old folks the row behind where Beth and I had been seated were not able to get up and down to see and that was not fair.

Finally, after a less than gentle invitation to "either sit down or I'm gonna mess you up!" by our Galahad of the stadium seat, the rude trio decided to move and we all applauded in seeing them leave. It's one thing to be up and singing and dancing when everyone does or to take photos, but to do so the full time when you have been asked nicely repeatedly and not so nicely a couple of times just shows a lack of character. By the way, here are their butts. You might want to see them just in case you can identify them when they stand in front of you at your next concert.

Scotty McCreery's set was fun. He has a nice voice and as his act is maturing on the road, it is evident that his talent is genuine and growing. He sang his current single on radio, a couple of songs from his first album and a couple that he was featured on American Idol singing for his big win.  Scotty has a Christmas album coming out this year. I think I'll have to check that out. After Scotty's set, The Band Perry came on stage to share their talents with us.

They sang "If I Die Young" and their video was playing on the jumbo-tron screens. They also sang "All Your Life", which is one of my favorites. As they belted out their rendition of Queen's "Fat Bottomed Girls" the crowd was on their feet singing along. It was just flat out fun!

Their song "You Lie" was a real treat, Kimberly was in rare form. Her voice is great anyway but there is just such a connection in a live concert!

As the last applause for their set died out, the lights dimmed and the crowd noise surged to jet engine decibel level. It was time for THE MAN!!

Brad gets better and better every time I've been privileged to see and hear him!

BRAD! BRAD! BRAD! 

He is funny, talented, amazing to see and hear and handsome... that easy on the eyes part is not to be underestimated! There were some really neat light show effects that were going on just before Brad came onstage. And when he did, the volume of the crowd was EVEN louder!

It was a fast paced run through his song "Camouflage" to open the set! LOVE that song! My favorite lines in the whole song are: 

We took pictures in the backyard  

Before we went to the dance  

And the only thing that you can see 

Is our faces and our hands
Camouflage, camouflage  

You should've seen the way it popped with her corsage Camouflage, camouflage 

Ain't nothing doesn't go with camouflage

The visual image in my mind of the smiling faces that Cheshire cat-like float above nothing crack me up! When Brad sang Celebrity later on, Scotty McCreery joined him on stage. One of the "tabloid headlines" in the graphics displayed on the jumbo-tron asked if Scotty were Brad's love child. It was a hoot!

Brad and his "love child" Scotty McCreery singing "Celebrity"

After a while of singing solo, Brad performed Whiskey Lullaby with Kimberly Perry. She did a fine job covering the part normally performed by Allison Kraus.

Later on, the music for "Remind Me" started up and I figured Kimberly would make another appearance. Nope. Carrie Underwood did the honors through a holographic imaging stint. Beth was screaming pretty loudly when her image came up. I have to admit, I was blow away (no pun intended for Carrie's new song!) and thoroughly enjoyed the presentation.

During Brad's gentle crooning of "Then", I got a little choked up thinking about Thomas and Tianna having that as their first couple dance at their wedding reception. I had a quick conversation with the man in the row in front of us who dealt with the rude people and told him about how special that song was. We gave each other a high-five when he said his brother had just gotten married and that they'd used it for THEIR wedding, too.

I didn't want the night to end, but as with all good things, the end does come. We made our way through the crowd back to the truck and sat and talked for a bit while waiting for traffic to thin out. It was so hot and sticky that even with the windows down to take in some breeze, it was like sitting in a sauna fully clothed. The man and woman in the car next to us were having a few difficulties.

He swayed over to us and told us that he couldn't understand why people were mad at him for saying he was "Obama's brother" and expected special treatment. Idiot. 

Not only was he white... and I'm talking mayonnaise on white bread kind of white... but he was three sheets to the wind and climbing. 

His wife was not amused and she could have put a sailor under the table with her colorful language. Blistering! By far and away, she had her favorite swear word and she applied it as subject, verb, adjective, adverb and modifier all in one sentence. Had it not been so downright profane, I would have been impressed. As it was, it kinda made me sad because she seemed to be articulate under less booze soaked circumstances. She drove them away. I hope they made it home okay because although her husband was DEFINITELY too drunk to drive, she wasn't too many notches behind him on the breathalyzer test. I could smell it on them both, so unless she was wearing beer as a cologne, she'd had some, too.

By the time we got enough leeway to head for the gates to freedom from the parking lot, there weren't a lot of choices on something to eat. And NO, simply eating lunch doesn't make up for dinner. NOTHING was open. And I mean NOTHING. Laughingly, Beth said we should stop at a gas station and see what they had.

We didn't and by the time we got back to our hotel room, we both wished we had.

The nice man in the lobby at the hotel told us that vending machines were located on various floors. Nice. Vending machines are not well known for having actual food in them, nor are they advertised for their nutritional properties.

We dined that evening on pistachios, peanuts and animal crackers. We bought one of each and split them. Beth had a Coke to wash hers down and I chose a bottle of water.  MMM. Just like Mother used to make - in that way that I mean NOT.



Rummaging through the animal cracker bag, it was obvious that some were genetic throwbacks. They were animal PIECES. I tossed Beth a set of nicely proportioned animal buttocks. She was not amused and wanted to know why she got the retarded animals. I laughed and threw over what were, ostensibly, a set of lion ribs.

I did, however, give her a WHOLE owl. I have NEVER in my entire life seen an OWL in a bag of animal crackers!! I guess the Harry Potter influence has even entered the animal cracker arena. I gave all the owls to Beth because I couldn't bring myself to snack on Hedwig. Oh, dear!! Now SHE will think about that and perhaps have a delayed indigestion for having eaten Harry Potter's owl!

When all the hilarity of the fine "feast" was over, we went to bed. 

The two beds had not a single full sized pillow in the lot. Instead, they were festooned with a selection of tiny pillows, some of which were wearing decorative belts. Slicking the little belt off of one pillow, I tossed it over on Beth and asked her "What the heck is this little belt for?"

I never knew pillows had pants that needed holding up. The belt thingies were some sort of "accent" but they had this whacking big button on them that would have left a mark on your face while you slumbered that would have been unmistakable. People in church the next morning were sure to say "Look, they have pillow belt marks on their faces!"

Okay, so maybe no one would have said that, but I didn't plan on risking it and removed the little belts.

Sunday morning came and apparently in the night there had been some minor power outage. The room alarm clock was flashing wildly to indicate that we were late. Not just late, but REALLY late!

Hastily, I jumped into the shower and attempted to get ready for church. Beth got in next and we found a ward just off of I-20 in Douglasville that we could attend. 

Did you know that even on the church's official site, their GPS navigation was not correct??? 

Once again, the Devil was helpless with laughter and rolling all over the floor in his office as he watched us attempt to navigate to the ward building.

After we arrived, I knew why he didn't want us to attend. The lady who was their ward genealogy librarian was there concluding speaker and her talk was about RICK'S ANCESTORS in Logan, Utah at the temple there!!! HOLY FLAMING COW!! How truly small the world is when the church is part of that world!

Without breakfast to get us going, we stopped for lunch after church at our favorite spot, THE FIVE STAR, and grabbed some tasty subway sammiches. I'd put a Subway restaurant in my HOUSE if Rick would let me. That way, I could have something good, salad filled and tasty every single day. 

We got home to my place for Beth to drop me off. I drove us home while she did homework. When we got there, we discovered that Jared and Rick had stayed home because Jared was still under the weather. I kinda felt bad about that since Mom's are supposed to be there for that sort of thing, but Rick told me they'd been fine and not to worry about it.

Beth headed home to her place to continue the merry parade of homework and I did some indexing while waiting for Kari to pick me up for Stake Choir rehearsal.

All in all, the weekend was FABULOUS!! Tiring, but worth it!

The only bad thing for me was after getting home Sunday night after choir, I attempted to go to bed and instead had a panic attack requiring help from Rick and the priesthood.

I hate those things. They make me feel like I'm being squashed like a bug. And worse. It's hard to articulate just how awful they are. 

But for now... let us reflect on all the excitement, wonder and joy that represented this weekend...

BRAD!

Why?

Just wondering something...

WHY would someone take a job doing something they really don't want to do and in the process making themselves and everyone around them unhappy?

I haven't been in the work world in a while due to choices to support my family needs and circumstances. It is a decision I do not regret, but which some are unable to make. That understanding does not escape my notice. Grateful that with some other choices and changes we could afford for me to be home, I have tried to embrace the home and hearth and family as a blessing.

But when I DID work, I LOVED my job, the people for whom I worked and the people whom we saw in the clinic. I considered them more than patients, but rather friends. Over time, we would get to know each other and had a pleasant relationship.

Yet every single day I am out in the world away from home, I see people who are completely miserable in their job. Is that misery because they have no choice or because they didn't prepare to have a choice?

Are they unhappy because actual work is required of them during their time on the job or because they feel they are not being paid enough for what they do?

Maybe they are miserable because that is their native temperament. Some people actually DO choose misery. I remember a woman who lived near us when I was a kid. She never knew a happy day because regardless of how wonderful it was, she chose only to see what was missing. Don't get that attitude. . . life is full of great and wonderful and beautiful moments which inspire, uplift, lend courage and strength and some that just flat out take your breath away.

Today I had an interaction yet again with someone who seems determined to only see and do what suits the moment and that moment is not ever good. She seems to be bound to the notion that whatever is going on must be a precursor to a coming gloom.

I just can't live that way!!

While I have my down times and times where the clouds obscure the sunlight, I am thankful for so many bright spots in my life that make bearable those that are few but difficult.

Again, I come back to the question why. Why would someone desire misery? Why would someone see only the moments of bad and overlook every good thing?

May never have the full answer on that one.

Have a GOOD day. And if by choice you desire... have a FABULOUS day!

Spitting and Driving

According to most civic ordinances, spitting is a punishable offense.

Do any of them take into account the fact that my 18 year old van has NO air conditioning?

Yeah, I didn't think so.

See, when you have no A/C in your car, you have to roll with the windows down in order to keep from marinating in your own juices just to keep up appearances in traffic. That is simply something I'm not willing to do. And other than when I pass by a squashed skunk on the road, I keep the windows down so we get a semblance of a breeze through the car.

The other day, I was minding my own business. I do that from time to time... really.

As I was going through the various hills and dales on my appointed route for the day, I ran into an area near a creek that was apparently the breeding ground for every single gnat in the county. EVERY SINGLE ONE.

The gnats needed a ride. That is the only possible explanation for them all piling into the van and subsequently into my mouth.

Gnats do not taste good.

To those drivers who may have been offended by the spit flying from my windows, I apologize. But I had NO CHOICE. It was either spit them out or throw up all over the interior of the van, which I can assure you would not help it smell any better nor would it be easy to clean up.

So, given the two options, I spit. And I spit again. And I spit some more.

I think I was spitting gnat parts out for the rest of the afternoon.

Just the thought of it makes me want to... well... SPIT.

To all those who write the city ordinances, I implore you to consider that there may well be some circumstances that require spitting.

Like driving an ancient van around filled with gnats.

Please don't judge me harshly as I was EXTREMELY careful to ensure that I didn't spit on pedestrians, passing cars, or street signs.

By the time I finally made it home, I was so glad to get out of the "gnatmobile" that I rinsed and gargled with mouthwash.  Even a tepid rinse of something NOT gnat flavored was better than the thoughts of those little insects awash in my saliva and sneaking in from the van to becoming part of my home life.

For the record, some DID sneak inside. We have tried to kill them. They are dodgy, sneaky and downright diabolical in their ability to escape being smacked to death. Thankfully, they are dying off as their lifespan isn't very long.

Next time you need a ride and I am doing the driving, please be kind. It's the only vehicle I have and enjoying nature INSIDE is just part of the ride.

Minty Fresh

Being at home with Jared and doing laundry today, I didn't see any real need to dress for success. After all, I was throwing dirty towels and clothing into the washer and they don't seem to be impressed if I"m dressed all shi shi la la or simply wearing my bathrobe.

Today's morning attire was blue plaid PJ pants and a V-neck t-shirt.

I will admit that we were slipping into afternoon as I fed Jared the first half of his lunch. I didn't care, I had plenty of time between loads to shower and put on shorts and a T-shirt after I got Jared underway.

What I neglected to account for was the wrestling match of Jared's strong arm tactics to my weak side defenses (my right shoulder has rotator cuff damage) and trying to keep his arms down from knocking into the feeding tube and baptizing everyone in the protein drink that Jared consumes for his meals.

During this Herculean battle for mealtime supremacy, Jared had a coughing fit and the accompanying phlegm that requires the use of the suction machine we keep by the bedside.

Because I believe keeping his equipment clean and sterilized is important, I have a big ol' bottle of mint mouthwash right by the machine to clean the suction tube out between uses. The idea being that not only would the solution kill off the germs in the tube like it alleges to kill off the germs in the mouth, but that the pleasant mint aroma would be better than the sometimes unpleasant aroma of germy phlegm.

After suctioning Jared out to ensure his airway was clean as a whistle, I pulled the bottle of mouthwash over and unscrewed the lid.

It was then the unheard voices announced to Jared "LET'S GET READY TO RUUUUUUMMMMMBBBBBLLLLLLLEEEEEE!!!"

Since I missed the verbal cue, I was unprepared for the sudden battle royale that Jared offered me. As a result, the open container of mouthwash and the partial syringe of formula went flying. Amidst the laughter of my very hilarious son, I was screaming "Not cool, Jared!! Not cool at all!!" His evil laughter was undeterred.

By the time our battle scene had been cut and print for the invisible cameras, I was covered with mint mouthwash... as was the bed, the rails and the floor.

As nice as I am sure the scent of minty fresh breath is, I'm not sure a 5 foot 7 inch mint scented, pajama wearing woman is... well... appealing.

My eyes were watering and my head was spinning from the overwhelming and somewhat gag making amount of mint scent floating through the room.

Jared's laughter wasn't helping any either. That kid is his own best fan. Hilarious. To HIM.

I mopped up me, the bed, the floor, the "splash zone" and migrated to the laundry room to wash some of the offending mint down the drain.

Jared was still laughing.

Don't tell me that kid has no clue what's going on around him!! He knows... and he sometimes uses those little moments of minor inattention to his GREAT advantage.

Fortunately, I have had a bath now.

I don't think I'm still minty fresh, but the way Gypsy is looking at my right leg and smiling, I"m not sure... next to hot buttered toast, little mints are her favorite snack.

And I'm beginning to suspect I didn't apply enough soap to my leg to completely remove the scent...

Oh well.

At least I can honestly say that the bottle of mouthwash was exhausted for a good cause. Jared has laughed a lot today. So it's all good.

Minty Fresh, indeed.

Cain't we do nuthin normal??

We travel to get away from the every day stress and strain that keeps us one tick away from the hands of the Grim Reaper... I think we would have been better served to used his travel services. It couldn't have been more painful.

I got no sleep last night. Okay, I got sleep. Just not a lot of it. I wasn't too excited to sleep, I was awakened by all sorts of things and had my sleep disturbed by frankly stupid dreams. So, baggy eyed but filled with the eager-eyed youthful confidence borne of complete stupidity, I gathered myself at 3:05 a.m. The alarm DID NOT go off... I just woke up in a panic that we'd be late. This must be the example of where stress is a GOOD thing.

THURSDAY MORNING, JULY 19th:
I got Kari up. She stayed in the guest room overnight so Fred wouldn't have to drive her to the airport since Beth was coming to pick me up anyway. It just didn't make sense to add more cars to the mix of trying to get people to the airport.

We did whatever ablutions that decency required according to our personal tastes, then fortified ourselves with some breakfast. I don't like to fly on a really full stomach. Beth arrived about 4:45 a.m. and we chucked our luggage in the back of the truck, jumped in and headed to her house where Pete was waiting to take three of his four "wives" to the airport.

Lest you get the wrong notion, we became his "wives" due to a joke that happened as he drove a vehicle emblazoned with an LDS sticker and a lone man in the car with three women who would join Beth at the concert to see Sugarland. So it was totally a "Sister Wives" moment.

Anyway, the "wives' were dropped of at Huntsville International. Only Beth got the smooches. Hmm. This "Sister Wives" thing seems to be a wee bit one sided, but I'll forgive them since they are actually married and all in love and all that mush. When we got settled into the seats for the flight, I remember how thankful that I am that we have this opportunity to "de-stress".

The flight to Dallas was marked with laughter and hilarity. I'm sure the people around us were not so amused. But the flight attendant was and she pitched right in with our mayhem. Gotta love people who are fun to be around! Anyway, we got to Dallas ahead of schedule (YEAH!) and tried really hard not to kill anyone as we exited the plane in a frantic attempt to find a bathroom before wardrobe malfunctions and mopping were required.

When we got into the Dallas airport, we hauled down to the gate to await the next leg of the adventure. I say leg because we sure got punted. Right through the uprights of life. Xan and Kari's phones both rang with the delightful news that our flight had been CANCELLED.

Yep. CANCELLED.

Welcome to the airline eternity that is Dallas.

How in the name of all that is holy can they cancel our flight after taking the money for said flight?? Is this SATAN airlines??? Bait and switch of the rankest kind!!!

We were informed by the delightful people on the phone that we needed to haul buns to Gate 24 and see Customer Service. Oh, that sounded promising. NOT!!

Turns out, we could be rerouted all over the nine kingdoms and land in Salt Lake City at about midnight and still have to collect a rental car and drive to La Verkin to pick up Sherri. That wasn't a viable option. They said they could fly us to Phoenix and then up the line to SLC. They even offered an option that involved Grand Junction, Colorado and one that would reroute us from Dallas to San Diego then back to Salt Lake City.

TOMORROW.   Holy flaming cow pies!! Are you KIDDING ME??? I do not intend to spend the night in the Dallas airport if I can help it. NO WAY! For the record, I have had the spend the night in the airport treatment TWICE.  I didn't like it either time.

Then, as our spirits were flagging and we were feeling dejected, just as we had given up hope of any possible break, the NEW delightful and harried ticketing lady at the ticketing counter who replaced the other harried and tired counter service lady who needed a break told us there was a flight to Vegas.

VEGAS!!! Oh joy! The mecca of sin and indulgence and the bonus of being closer to picking up Sherri and getting all of the happy campers together. And it beat the heck out of all the other options! NICE!! And we'll take FOUR SEATS, please.

While trying to arrange for ticketing, Beth was on her cell phone ninety to nothing trying to sort out our unexpected change in destination and where we'd get ground transportation from National Car Rental. Frantic phone calls to the car rental place's toll free number to beg their indulgence and rearrange the rental from SLC to Vegas ensued and everything finally got arranged. For a bit, it was touch and go with abnormally high fees added to the mix which was not making anyone very happy. Not in the least of miserable was Beth. But mercifully, a solution was forthcoming.

Incidentally, while all of the automotive drama was going on, I was at the ticketing desk negotiating with the delightful woman who had a gazillion unhappy passengers to reroute. We got the last 4 seats on the flight.

THE LAST FOUR SEATS!!

Did I mention those last four seats were BY THE TOILETS? Yes! By the toilets. Yippee.

I think we had that happen the last trip we made except it was LEAVING Las Vegas. Explain something to me if you can? WHY are all desperation seats involving Las Vegas always near the outhouse? Is that some kind of metaphor to which I am blissfully unaware?? Some kind of reminder that "Sh --- it happens"?

Wait. Don't answer that, please.

We finally got into Vegas from Dallas. Yeah! Triumph! Joy! Excitement! All of the euphoria was short lived. Like an epic tale from Homer, we trudged to the designated luggage corral to await the glory and wonder of the checked bag. But, in true mythological fashion, there was no bag.

NO BAG. NO STINKIN' BAG!! NOPE! NOPE! NOPE!!

And Satan laughed. It was big, evil, full-bellied and ugly. His menacing guffaws were aimed right in our direction. Our combined checked bag of personal items flew to SLC. On time. With no trouble. No rerouting. No delay. How delightful in that way that I totally mean NOT!!!

While OUR flight as mere mortal passengers to Salt Lake City was indeed cancelled and rerouted, our beloved baggage, however, was granted a FINE flight on time and to the chosen destination of SLC with no problems at all. Please explain that to me?? How is it that LUGGAGE is treated differently from the persons to whom it belongs? Sometimes it just doesn't pay to get up in the morning. Grr.

Maybe next time, we should just save time and check ourselves as luggage. Then we and our actual luggage might arrive TOGETHER. Unless the airlines gives our luggage first class seating and those little towels with lemon you can freshen up with...

When the weeping, wailing and gnashing of teeth subsided, it was determined that we should go ahead and pick up the rental vehicle and escape the airport before we went berserk on the luggage lady in the tiny room to the side of the luggage corrals. Grabbing up our carry on gear and hauling to the rental car area for more negotiations with National about how all of this fun was going to work out, we were kindly granted a larger vehicle than originally planned. It was a nice little GMC SUV that was spacious, roomy and more importantly, had EXCELLENT air conditioning since Las Vegas was about a million and a half degrees by then. God bless National car rental service! Someone deserves a kiss directly on the lips!

Seats were dropped and luggage loaded aboard as I took the keys from the nice man who assisted us while Beth was down in the rental office inside the terminal wrangling the paperwork necessary to escape with the SUV. I cranked the AC up and slid down the windows so the confined heat could be pushed outside and leave room for the delightful coolness that would save us from becoming so much goo on the pavement in the parking deck. I hopped out of the driver's side and sat in the shotgun seat for Beth to take the wheel when she returned.

I called Sherri to tell her where we were and to coordinate the plans to make the run to La Verkin to pick her up. She wisely said "that is a stupid idea" and that she would come to Vegas on the St. George shuttle that night instead and we could just pick her up. Fine with me. By that time, I think we were all pretty tired of sitting in anything regardless of how well appointed it might have been. Butt sore travel is ZERO fun. I would have driven there, but I was thankful to have the option. Love ya, Sher! Thanks for saving our butts! Literally.


We got to the hotel. It was the lovely Las Vegas Vacation Club Hilton and we got checked in, keyed and rode the elevator up to the suite of rooms where we dumped off our gear and waited for Sherri to arrive on the Shuttle at McCarren airport sometime around 10:30 p.m.

Beth and I rode to McCarren to pick her up when the designated time arrived. Because parking at the airport is at a premium price and circling the drain made more sense and was cheaper, I hopped out and waited on the curb by the American Airlines drop off area for the shuttle to appear while Beth circled around until it was time to load up.

Soon, the shuttle pulled up to the curb and the familiar smiling face was present. I think I hugged the stuffings out of Sherri. She didn't seem to mind to much. SOOOO happy to see her again!

When the hugging was over and we were stowing luggage in the SUV, Sherri asked me if I ever wore shoes.

I must have looked at her with a blank expression on my face until she pointed down. To be fair, I was indeed barefooted and frankly didn't really see the need to wear any shoes since we weren't going inside and  the only shoes with me were my "short term tennis shoes" and they were killing my feet after the unexpected changes in our travel plans. All of my other shoes were floating in limbo somewhere between Salt Lake City and Las Vegas. So barefooted sounded pretty dang good to this Alabama gal.

We laughed at my shoeless status and got inside with Beth in the GMC so we could ride back to the Hilton. It was a chit chat fest on the short ride to the hotel. I really wish Sherri and I lived closer, but our lives have different paths and we just have to get together when we can. I reckon that is what makes these little adventures better is because we might run the risk of taking everything for granted otherwise. And I'd hate to do that. Thank the good Lord for email and telephone service!! It makes up for the miles in a lot of ways.


Ugh! So tired! More fun later... gotta decompress... vacations are not for the faint of heart! Why is it that we go away to rest from our lives, but come home needing a vacation from the vacation? Again, for the love of all that is holy, please do not answer that!

Okay, it's now officially "later". The separately traveling luggage STILL HAS NOT ARRIVED. Are you kidding me??? REALLY??? Beth has checked with the airlines and the front desk a gazillion times with everyone assuring her that the luggage is "on the way". "On the way" is apparently airport-ese euphemism standing for "we don't know where in the hell we left your luggage".

We could have driven to and from Salt Lake City and picked it up by now. But noooooooo! Instead, we wait. And wait. And wait... Allegedly, the luggage is now here in Las Vegas... somewhere... circling the drain... circling, circling, circling.

♪♫ Oh, where oh where has the luggage gone? Oh where oh where can it be? ♪♫

I think the tune our miscreant missing bag is singing is more like Elvis' ♪♫ Viva! Las Vegas! ♪♫

While I do have a couple changes of undies in my carry on, my other shoes and my boots and my temple clothes and toiletries are in the luggage ... and they are not alone. They are being kept company by Kari's make up bag, blowdryer, assorted sundries, and all of Beth's textbooks (which she needs to study for FINALS this week!!), shoes, clothing and other items... like the toothpaste she put in my other pair of tennis shoes. I asked Beth if that travel arrangement might affect the flavor of the toothpaste since my shoes are not exactly minty fresh.

She laughed, then called me a dillweed, and told me the tube was closed up. Probably for the best. I don't think I'd like minty fresh tennis shoes. It would just be too odd even for me. And I am absolutely certain that Beth would not enjoy brushing her teeth with Shelley's foot-flavored toothpaste.

Since Kari's makeup bag is also AWOL, we have a  tragedy beyond compare and I'm sure that it is extremely distressing for her since she actually uses her makeup every day. I wear it on Sunday or to appease circumstance or special occasion, but not usually any other day. I'm usually good to go with some sunscreen and some Secret on the armpits to ward of the stench of daily life.

Being merciful to her suffering, we got her some deodorant when we went to Albertson's. A small concession but a useful one since that is truly the one indispensable item when living in the desert climate of Las Vegas. B.O. plenty isn't acceptable here anymore than it is back home in good ol' Alabama.

Did I mention that going to Albertson's in and of itself was an adventure. I'm sure they didn't intend it to be, but it was. They hide their shopping buggies. Really. I swear.

I looked everywhere: inside, around the registers and in their vestibule --- but no carts. I had to ask where they were and the lady looked at me like I had three heads. Maybe I do... I'm just not sure.

The delightfully mean checker informed my three-headed self in a nasty nasally tone that "the shopping carts were outside" and vaguely pointed to an area beyond the automatic doors and onward toward the outside of the building. Upon examination, the store actually had this hidden walled off area where they stuffed the buggies between shoppers. You wouldn't have known they were there unless you shopped there all the time. And frankly, my Alabama accent is a COMPLETE giveaway that "I ain't from around here".

Finally, buggy in hand, I went to find Beth and the rest of the grocery items we'd need to survive Vegas. We also wanted to do some touring in and around the Vegas strip so we were hurrying.

Did I mention it is STILL Thursday?

Or is it Friday now? I've completely lost track...Dementia has most certainly set in by now. It has to be Friday. I'm sure of it now... Friday....However, because of Satan Airlines and the AWOL luggage that had other plans, I am a bit more than disconcerted. Friday. Yep. Friday.


It appears that the temple will have to be pushed back for Saturday morning --- if we get to attend at all. Despite having recommends for the temple, they simply do not allow people in gym shorts inside. It just isn't done. One does not approach the house of the Lord looking like a bum. (NOTE: I found out the temple wasn't even OPEN until Saturday because it had been closed for cleaning so we wouldn't have been able to attend earlier than Saturday even if we'd had our temple clothes with us! The Lord moves in mysterious ways indeed!)

So our plans change once again. Instead of crying in our root beer over what has been altered, we'll use our time wisely and tour Las Vegas by day and for some, Las Vegas by night -- pending arrival of the luggage. That means we can tour first and hope for the recovered baggage to arrive later in the day. The intent was to have attended the temple this lovely and brilliant Friday morning but that won't happen with the luggage still on its own little adventure. It still hadn't arrived by midday despite the airline people screaming about having put it on the 6 a.m. flight. I don't know what flight they think they sent it on, but it didn't get on the 6 a.m. flight to HERE.

Beth patiently calls the airline's representatives again who now tell her there IS NO BAG. NO BAG??? Are you kidding me?? How can there be NO BAG? Did they EAT IT???

According to their impeccable and oh-so-perfect records, now the bag doesn't exist. At all. Anywhere. Grr!! How is that even possible? Was the bag monogrammed with "Houdini" emblazoned on the side? Did it magic itself elsewhere?

Before we ripped heads off of innocent and not so innocent people, the vote was to get the heck out of Dodge and tour Sin City. We started at Caesar's Palace. It just sounded right. No empire was more noted for decadence other  than Caligula's and there isn't a palace in Vegas dedicated to him... at least not yet. Just give them time.

Some hapless tourist and his EXTREMELY patient wife took the "evidentiary support" pictures for us.

I have to say that Caesar's really is amazing! So many shops and things to see and do that it is hard to believe it is all under one roof! Floors and floors of fun without any gambling unless you deliberately choose to do so.

I don't choose to lose money. That is just not in my nature to get nothing for something. Sure, I've given the ol' one armed bandit a try, but don't see the necessity of repeating that lesson. Stupidity isn't a big draw for me.

Inside the complex, you could literally walk for miles inside and never realize you are doing it with all the shops, stores and attractions all crammed under one roof. It was a collection of some pretty amazing stores and venues.

We had a great time checking out the palace. We also watched a kitschy little show about the sinking of Atlantis with animatronic figures "talking" to us and waving around fire and water like it was a toy.

Zeus commanding the magic of his power as the show begins.

At one point, we rounded a corner and came upon a place entitled "Cleopatra's Barge". The decor was fittingly appropriate to the name. Of course, stupid me couldn't help but think the barge needed a brassiere. When you have boobs that big, it really does demand both support and coverage. Yeah, I know, I'm an idiot. But you should have known that already if you have read anything I've written previously.

Cleopatra's Barge inside Caesar's Palace.

While I am fascinated by the lure and lore of things Egyptian, I have the distinct feeling that nothing is what it seems in this venue. It's all about booze and scantily clad waitresses inside this bar. Oh well. I'll save myself the trouble and hope to visit Egypt for real before it is destroyed through a mindless campaign of assimilation and revisionist history. Moving right along...

We looked and shopped and had a ball walking all over the place. Dick Butkus was at a sports store signing autographs for $15 on merchandise bought in the store. Cool. But I wasn't going to pay to see him. I could watch him for free through the plate glass window. It wasn't any less cool to not spend the money.

Xan and Kari and Beth went to play slots so Xan could have her "Vegas Experience". Sherri and I were commanded to meet them outside. Since I'm not too proud to ask directions and since I am a blonde, we went toward the exit confident we could find our way out. We did, with a couple of well placed and not so well placed hints from the folks at the various restaurant counters. Everyone seemed astounded. Probably because I have no sense of direction. But I have always relied on the kindness of strangers... just call me Blanche.

By the way, when it came to the gambling, I have to tell you upfront that Xan won $1.75 for the $3.00 spent on slots. So much for the "Vegas Experience". HA  HA Don't spend it all in one place!


When we all got back to the hotel, Beth called down to the concierge desk to find out where in the Sam Hill the luggage was. Mercifully, the luggage FINALLY arrived! IT ARRIVED!!! YEAH!! Yeah, it is late, late, late in the day and we were glad to see it. Some of us more than others... like those nameless pitiful people I could mention - but whom I won't because I have manners - who only had one pair of undies besides exercise skivvies. Not cool. Not cool at all.

There was much rejoicing to receive the errant bag back into the fold. Plus, Beth was able to have her school books to prepare for her tests. That is a HUGE blessing because you just can't study for finals without the dang books! It kinda cramps your brain...

Later on, Xan, Kari and Beth decided to go out and tour (they took a gondola ride at Venice!), Sherri and I took advantage of the time to rest my feet and talk catching up on our lives, our family and our day to day. It was a great opportunity to just enjoy face to face time that is so rare for us. It is always interesting to me how our individual lives have such challenges but sharing them together and just being able to spend the time as friends makes things easier to handle. At least that's the way I feel... I hope anything I do for Sherri helps in some measure. She truly means the world to me.

After everyone got back to the room from their touring, talking and enjoying each others company all day, it was time to catch enough sleep to be prepared for Saturday and the activities therein. The Las Vegas temple awaited us! It is SOOOO pretty and so very lovely!

SATURDAY, JULY 21st:

Picture of the Las Vegas temple gate and sign taken from inside the SUV.

The Las Vegas temple was lovely and a nice break from the world. Sometimes I need to just get away to somewhere that is quiet. Despite being near such a 24-hour location, the temple is actually in a secluded neighborhood that is truly quiet from the noise of what most people think of when you say "Vegas". It is an oasis of calm in a desert of sin and iniquity. Truly an apt metaphor for the challenges of mortal life.

The temple session was a great blessing of peace for me. It always helps me to be more focused on the people that matter the most to me in my life. Plus, the peace from the world outside is such a relief and a release.

After changing from our Sunday clothes and eating a bite or two of lunch at the Five Star, we got back into the car for some more drive time. We headed north up I-15 toward Salt Lake City, and we passed the time singing, talking and laughing along. The main pit stop was in Beaver, Utah for a potty break and to get some snacks as well as stretching our legs. Xan decided she really liked the tile work in the bathroom and wanted a picture of it. I'm not shy. I've done bathroom pictures a lot since Rick used to be in the tile business and it's no big deal to me so long as people aren't in them doing disgusting things. I draw the line on that stuff. I do have my standards!

Bathroom tile in Beaver, Utah (yeah... takin' pictures in the John!)

They actually did a good job with a cool pattern.

It was pretty nice tile work. I hope if the Kucejko's do decide to create something like this at their house whenever they get to move back into it that they are able to get some pretty stone or tile to truly make it worth the effort. If you are ever in Beaver, Utah, be sure and stop at the service station and check out their lovely bathroom. You won't be disappointed! HA!

Continuing our migration north, we are watching the clock and hoping to get into midtown SLC in decent time enough to keep from being left out in the dark. The Kimball does NOT have 24-hour desk help. They close up the front desk around 8 p.m. or so. Timing is crucial and our drive time plus pit stops as needed eats up a great deal of our Saturday. Beth called to see what the procedure was for after hours check in. They have a nice lock box and combination for people who are running behind the clock. That was a comfort! We made the most of the travel time with singing, talking, laughing at some stupid jokes and funny conversation. So it was definitely NOT a wasted road trip!

Thankfully, we managed to get in SLC prior to being locked out of the Kimball for the night and also to get the info about attending Sunday morning's "Music and the Spoken Word" for the taped broadcast. It's live, but it is also taped for those stations who care to show it later on and for internet streaming.

SUNDAY, JULY 22nd:
Although I lived in Salt Lake City for a while, I never availed myself of the opportunity to attend this wonderful broadcast. Now I feel pretty stupid for missing the blessing of hearing it live and feeling the Spirit weaving in and through the music and message of this amazing production!

Music and the Spoken Word

Because it was a LIVE performance that was to be taped for broadcasts later as well, they gave us strict information about how to behave regarding applause (none, please!), extraneous noises (like coughing, sneezing, etc.) and other mannerisms so that we wouldn't mess up the broadcast or the taping. It was kinda neat to know that for that moment in time we were part of history. The broadcast of Music and the Spoken Word is the longest continuously running radio broadcast in network history! People who aren't LDS tune in as well for the spiritual uplift of the magnificent Mormon Tabernacle Choir. Say what you will, but the comfort of good music and hymns is a blessing to the heart.

We were all variously moved by the spirit of the program. I found myself crying thinking of everyone who came before me who paved a trail through the unplowed ground of the gospel restored. Each one who clung fast to the truth helped make it possible for me to receive the opportunity to hear and accept the gospel and to grow my own testimony of faith in Jesus Christ. That is a marvelous pioneer heritage indeed!

In keeping with that heritage, after our church experiences, Sherri showed us the absolutely wonderful DVD "17 Miracles". It is about the story of pioneer Levi Savage and the things he personally endured in his life and mission, including a very painful personal and public chastisement for a prophetic warning he offered to the pioneer company which he was tasked to help guide west. As it turned out, not only was he RIGHT about what he told them all, he meekly accepted the buffetings of the camp leadership and humbly went along with their plans to press forward to the west even though it was too late in the season to set off from their stopover. The pioneers in that Willie-Martin handcart company suffered things that no one could possibly imagine and the gruesome truth of the suffering was a painful reminder that personal desires need to be tempered with the Lord's desires for us. That they pressed on may well have been the lesson from the Lord they needed to learn to truly hear their leaders even when the message isn't what you want to hear at all. Who can truly say? But members of that company who survived said it was through their afflictions that they came to know God and Christ.

Jerry and Jean Merrill invited us to dinner at their place in the Valley. It was a generous and kind invitation as they were truly welcoming over "the Wild Bunch" to their home. Hawaiian Hay Stacks were on the menu and I haven't had that since the family reunion we attended while Thomas was in Germany. We had a lovely time and enjoyed their gracious hospitality and a lovely dinner as well. Casandra also came over to visit with us and we laughed, we talked, we got emotional during our discussion of the tornadoes that had ravaged our area over the past couple of years. Since Xan's family was truly displaced by the damage, she was able to give firsthand testimony that was painful and poignant.

We also took a couple of pictures of the event. Can't let this kind of thing happen without blackmail photos!

L to R: Me, Casandra, Jerry and Jean in their living room.

Some of The Merrill girls together again!

The Motley Crew of visitors at Jerry and Jean's place.

Later on when we returned to the Kimball, it was time to do school work for Beth and Sherri. I acted as secretary and proofreader while Xan and Kari watched TV in their room. I mostly waited till called on to do anything resembling useful. There was a wicked storm with some pretty cool lightening tonight as we were leaving. Reminded me of the ones back home. Seriously good lightening frying up the atmosphere! Wish I'd taken some pictures of it.

MONDAY, JULY 23rd
After a reasonable night's rest, we got up and started our Monday. We drove up to see Lanette. She was at the Miner's home here in SLC enjoying some family time and a break from her treatments. It was so good to see her and as a bonus, to meet and get to know Eva, my little cousin. She is SOOO cute! A little moppet with curly brown hair and as cute as a button. For whatever reason, Eva warmed up to me (odd for a girl baby!) and held her little arms out to me to pick her up. YEAH!! That was AWESOME! Most little girl babies don't want anything to do with me ... boy babies, yes, girl babies... not so much. But Eva is something special, that's for sure!

We decided to head to the Natural History Museum next. Lanette said her family was all there, but we never saw them. To be fair, you could be there all day and never run into anyone unless you met up before you went indoors. It is A HUGE MUSEUM!!

Xan making new friends at the Rio Tinto Natural History Museum of Utah! Kissy Kissy!

A lovely Geode!

The museum is truly a "must see" for any trip to Utah. The exhibits are spectacular and include Utah's natural and anthropological history. I was amazed at the Native American exhibit though frustrated that the museum chose to cast the Church's interaction with the Native Americans as a bad thing. Without the Church and the blessings they brought to the area, many of the tribes would have simply warred themselves into extinction. Yet the museum chose to deliberately slant the story to make it appear that once again, the white settlers were the hostiles who stole away the history and culture of the Native Americans. *SIGH*

I was particularly impressed by their exhibit on DNA. It had a tracking map, as it were, about the sequencing that showed the matching steps of our genetic makeup from various animals and human beings. Every once in a while the letters all matched up. To me, it was like looking at the fingerprint of our Creator. It was like seeing His Divine mark on all that He touched in making this entire world. Each era of time, however He determined it, was a segment that the Almighty made that has left a record of all that He wanted us to have and know.

After all of our day's adventures, we went back to the apartment to watch Kate and Leopold. It was really good. We had to watch it on the laptop, but it was an awesome movie! Hugh Jackman was hilarious! I'd never seen it before, so it was a great opportunity to enjoy the movie.

Beth got one of her finals done today and I'm sure that is a huge relief to her. I know I always liked to have a break from the coursework when I knew a final was over.

TUESDAY, JULY 24th:
Tuesday was a kind of departure for us all. None of us were participating in the races... just not a race year. Too much pain medicine floating around the room for anyone to be thinking about it this time. There is always next year.

There was another reason it was good that no races happened for me. For whatever reason, I have panic attacks from time to time and last night was one heck of a "you're gonna die" panic attack. Just a world class freak out that leaves me anxious, terrified, confused and uncertain what to do. I hate them. So I was happy to have a couple of extra hours to try and catch up on the lost night's sleep.

We enjoyed some looking around and going to "The King's English Bookstore".  Awesome place! Would love to go there again as it was just a wonderful little specialty shop.

The main feature for the day was the Salt Lake Bees game!! I LOVE BASEBALL!!

The whole idea of going to the ballpark, sitting in the stands, rooting for the Bees and just enjoying the atmosphere of the game is absolutely wonderful! If I was rich, I'd own a minor league team just for the heck of it. The Bees were hosting the Sacramento River Cats.

The final of the game was Bees 17 - Cats 7.  

GO BEES!


♪♫ Take me out to the ball game! Take me out with the crowds!♪♫

Aaaaah, baseball! The enduring love of the game makes summer such a wonderful time of the year! The fireworks show afterwards was also great. I am a big fan of fireworks and feel that when possible, they should be part of every summertime.

Skyrockets in flight! 

WEDNESDAY, JULY 25th:
We attended the West Jordan temple today. And Sherri left us to go care for her mother's needs. Understandable, but still sad.

Just trying to decide if falling into the fountain "accidentally" on such a hot day is a good idea or not...

Jordan River temple -- isn't it beautiful?

Afterwards, we toured the Church History museum. That place is a three day wonder and I still don't think you can see it all.

We also toured the Lion House, an item that's been on the "Utah Bucket List" for quite some time. The Beehive house was cool. They had a lot of carving inside that was just amazing. The pioneers may have been from another time, but their skills in woodworking were out of this world!

 

I appreciate craftsmanship. And beautifying ones own home is never amiss. The pioneers understood that in the stark land which they had chosen to build God's own people into Saints that beauty was where you created it and in the appreciation of God's wonders all around them in the templed hills ringing the valley.

A trio of lovely ladies enjoying the sights!

Following our day of fun activity, we returned to the Kimball to eat and rest.

THURSDAY, JULY 26th:
We had originally planned to go to the Logan temple. However, due to the luggage fiasco taking a bite out of our plans and in particular Beth's plans to study, plus the drive time plus the session time added up, we elected to attend the Mt. Timpanogos temple instead. It was closer and would be less of a bite in the hours of the day, especially so since Beth had a final to take before midnight. Yikes!

Oh, a special note to all concerned: You cain't get to the temple from here. Holy Moses and all the Twelve Apostles! They tucked it back into the neighborhoods in the foothills so tightly that you needed a sherpa to find the way. Plus, the Utah DOT was deconstructing roads right and left effectively cutting off all sorts of access points. Helpful. NOT!

With the aid of modern technology and a couple of false starts, we finally arrived at the Lord's house in the hills. Nothing like taking the kindred dead on tour. I've never felt more like a groupie than I do at this moment.

Mt. Timpanogos temple in an undisclosed secret location

Upon finishing our session, we went to Del Taco. Yep. A fine dining establishment that cannot be missed, especially when you have coupons to help pay the bill. We also changed clothes there for our much anticipated visit to Thanksgiving Point. No actual Pilgrims were involved and there was no Mayflower berthed anywhere in the area. I looked.

I also didn't see any turkeys, but I did see some cows. Sadly, we were late for the milking exhibition. We enjoyed the Dinosaur museum and the shops there at the facility and we also enjoyed the gardens. They were truly lovely.

All we need is a team and we're ready to go!

The Ag Building... sadly there was not a display while we were there.

Nice... wonder if the little dino skeletons are afraid of the big dino?

Ictheosaurus... or some such rot. Either way, that would scare the crap out of me if it was on my fishing line!

See the picture? Look closer... closer... dang it!! The little screen turned off!!

Gee, that's amazing. Now what the heck is it?

So very beautiful! And the scent of all of the various flowers was heavenly!

We haz found a bench!

I'd totally LOVE to do something like this in my own yard.

And I'd like to have an arched gate in my stone wall as well.

What a lovely glass art piece! The glass factory there at Thanksgiving point is absolutely phenomenal!

LOVE this gazebo!

And I love the water feature.

Kinda blurry but the flowers were just lovely!

Conscious as we were to make sure Beth was able to do what she had to do for her grades, we watched the clock surreptitiously. Okay, I watched the clock. As it was, even with our time wise detour and temple choice of Mt. Timpanogos plus our stop at Thanksgiving point (which was TOTALLY worth the stop!), Beth still finished her final exam after 10 p.m.

Did I mention we were working on the "Utah Bucket List"?

Well, one of those stops for me was the IKEA store!! WOO HOO!!! I have wanted to go there for a while.

The Holy Grail of Home Furnishings!!

I could have cheerfully wandered around in there forever looking at space saving and labor saving ideas for the home. If I ever have the money together, I'm going to start buying the pieces on my little list. Yep. That was an inspirational tour if there ever was one!

I really loved the TV and storage ensemble they had on display as well as the bedroom ensemble that included plenty of underbed storage. They also had a very nice glass and wood curio cabinet that would be absolutely perfect for our doll display!

*SIGH* Time and patience! Time and patience!

Sherri called while we were there to ask some questions about her mother. I told her my best guess, which isn't as helpful as you might think, and counseled her to call the pharmacist for some real help to the problem. I talked to her later and everything was much better. That's good to know. And I'm thankful that there are trained people who can help when someone for whom we have care is in need. It makes a difference.

FRIDAY, JULY 27th:
One last day in Oz before we return from the emerald city and back to the black and white of our daily lives. Xan and I walked over to the Church History Library. A vast repository of church documentation and histories as well as various artifacts and photographs from the church's worldwide reach, the building is an amazing place to spend time.

While there, I checked to see if there was a copy of the church history that had been written from OUR area of the Lord's vineyard and there was not. So I'm working on it after we get back home so that the things of a sacred nature to our stewardship can be preserved, too. Someone someday may have a need to know and I want to be represented.

City Creek Center in Salt Lake City

After visiting there, we all decided to take in City Creek. It was under construction the last time I was in SLC and as a result, the new facility demanded a visit. WOW! The job they did to bring nature into the inside spaces of a public mall while maintaining a dignity about it was nothing short of amazing. The inside and the outside merge together and then divide again seamlessly. The architects did a FABULOUS job! I can only imagine what it looks like in the winter!

We had intended to attend a bagpipe concert tonight, but after all of our wandering around and after our sumptuous meal at Cafe Rio (Holy Moses! If you get to go out there, EAT AT CAFE RIO!) there wasn't much left to go on. Plus everyone needed to pack up and do whatever last minute doings were needed to prepare for tomorrow's flight out.

SATURDAY, JULY 28th:
Got up, breakfasted and showered to be ready when we needed to depart for the airport.


The idea was to have the time to do everything without having to rush. We had to be there early enough to return the rental vehicle, get our bags sorted and, in some cases, checked in, then check ourselves in and await our flight. I have had a good time and in some ways, I hate to see it come to an end. Having this opportunity and blessing of a break has been just wonderful!

Alas, everything was just too fast!

I should have anticipated some kind of difficulty when we checked into the Salt Lake airport for our flight. My little internal "trouble light" was on, but I ignored it --- you know, the way you do when your hubris level has overcome the common sense valve.

When we started our little adventure at home and went through the check-in at Huntsville to begin our trip, the security check was of minor consideration. It was just a seconds long process. Literally. That's where the over-confidence started building.

However, upon our leaving Salt Lake, ah well, let's just say I have a couple of NEW, CLOSE friends from the TSA.

My computer bag had to be emptied completely out. As a possible threat. Their scanning machine said so. Strange, but I remember packing that bag. There was nothing "extra" or dangerous in it. The computer, a granola bar and a long sleeve shirt. That's it. No C-4, no blasting caps, no gel fuel. Just the computer, a granola bar and a long sleeve shirt.

Yet it was deemed to be "suspicious" and required dumping out. Completely. Every single pocket emptied out to determine if I was bringing aboard a computer case filled with Armageddon.

Nice.

Nothing like having all your goodies on display in the airport for some skeevy person to decide what they'd like to take from you. I must have a suspicious face... either that or I look like a clueless mule to do the bidding of some nefarious entity.

My carry-on luggage itself was passed through the scanner a couple of real SLOW times. Really? Apparently, my underwear has suddenly become a suspicious item. Either that or they thought they saw something exciting when my curling iron rolled through the viewfinder. Again, nothing to see here. I'm a wife and mother from ALA-FREAKIN'-BAMA!!! The most exotic thing I own is a hat made in Taiwan!

Maybe they just saw my BEES beer cup on the scanner and were jealous of my freebie (I picked it up AFTER the game and washed it to death in soapy water). Who knows?

Then, when I was finally instructed to "come forward and stand in the little booth on the two yellow foot prints" and told to assume the "New York position" so I could have my full body scan preserved for some pervert's collection, I set off their warning lights.

YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!!!

WHY?? I have NOTHING in my pockets, my socks or... oh. Wait. Softly now, and a luft pause, but I forgot...

The stupid screws holding my ankle together!!

Yet the scan showed the "alarm" on my thigh. Migratory screws??? I don't think so!!

Thanks to that, I received my very own personalized nice pat down and "wanding" from the TSA chick who didn't even offer to buy me drinks, dinner or a snack.You'd think that if they are going to be that up close and personal that they'd at least ask what your name is and where you're from... it was uncomfortable to say the least.

During the special attention I received, an entire brigade of terrorists could have calmly boarded the plane as the TSA all riveted their attention onto me for that few minutes. A dumpy, bottle blonde housewife with a penchant for granola and a few giblets of metal holding me together is imminently more scary than anyone else they have seen this morning. I'm reasonably sure that I couldn't outrun them. And I'm also reasonably sure that even if I could somehow dig in to access the screws in my leg, they would be so tiny as to be completely and utterly useless were I to have contemplated any kind of cloak and dagger with them. Plus, I'd would then be BLEEDING and that would make me queasy as I can't stand the sight of my own blood and  thus rendering any hostile plans a moot point.

Glad we got to the airport early. I would have hated to miss the flight because of my reckless status. SHEESH!

After the joy and wonder that was the TSA, we hiked to our terminal to wait. And wait. And wait.
We sat and waited. We walked and waited. And we ate dinner at Chili's and waited for our flight to be called. This reminds me of a Primary song about the pioneer children except they walked and walked and walked... we did some of that too, just to burn up the time.

Departure time mercifully arrived at last and we boarded the gleaming bird that would return us to civilization in Sweet Home Alabama. Lest you think we are done with our revels, oh no, happy campers. As a final parting shot and a testament as to why I am thankful that smoking isn't allowed on planes, I submit this little story of agony in the air. Every single word of this is true and I have 4 reliable witnesses (myself and the other 3 musketeers) as to this bit of Shakespearean tragedy at 31,000 feet.

The ride out to Dallas was bumpy in places. Dramamine kept me comfortable and drooling. I did read a little bit and finished up the book Beth had loaned me by the time we touched down in Dallas. I bawled at the ending, but since SHE hasn't read it yet, I'll hold off on the ending so as not to spoil the book for her. She asked if it was good and through my sniffling and tear filled eyes, I said "YES!".

I enjoyed it very much!

Departing Dallas for our trip to Huntsville and Sweet Home Alabama that lay before us, we figured we were home free. It seemed so close that we could touch it and taste it! HOME! Sweet, sweet home! But alas, the Devil of the skies had other plans. Evil, malicious and malodorous plans! 

Dang that Devil and his army of stinkin' minions!

We were sitting behind two people who apparently habitually dined on nothing but a steady diet of cabbage and beans for all meals, all snacks and late night nibbling. 

It was a constant struggle to get anything resembling a clean breath of air, even with both overhead vents open ALL THE WAY blowing air on us, it couldn't keep up with the output of the two gas bags in the seats in front of us. I don't believe ANYONE could possibly manage to be that gassy, but fate managed to prove otherwise in a protracted and oxygen free way. I never realized that I could breathe pure methane. Apparently you can...

The aroma was pure-D disgusting and so nasty that the stench of vomit would have been preferable. At one point, I pulled my t-shirt up over my face just to filter the air in any measure. I looked to my right and Beth had done the same thing. It was funny, but not so funny because we were the ones enduring the horror show of olfactory assault and the toxic and deadly biological assault was not stopping any time soon. It was so horrible that my eyes actually were watering. 

Either they were completely oblivious to the noxious stench they were perfuming the cabin's air with or they figured no one knew it was them. HOLY COW!!! There was NO way it was not them!! AUGH!!! What a stench! I've smelled barnyards that were cleaner! Why isn't there some kind of protection dropping from the ceiling to save us from this assault???

When it first started up, I was sort of like 'well, forgive and forget' because accidental gas eruption can and does happen to the best of us under the most embarrassing of circumstances. But then... the onslaught began in earnest and the amount of methane floating through the cabin would have blown up the plane had smoking still been legal aboard. The Arial commanders of the Blitzkrieg could have learned from them! They were creating casualties left and right and to the rear! There was NOTHING accidental about this deadly cargo! 

Why didn't the TSA employees and their oh so special scanners show this onboard danger?? Surely there is some kind of sensor that would compel these offenders to be taken to a special chamber where their gas can be safely (and possibly forcibly) removed before takeoff? the US Government could have saved this incredibly dense pocket of gas for the war effort.

Does ANYONE have an air filter mask? Oxygen? 

Help? 

Charcoal activated filtered underwear?

Somebody? 

ANYBODY?

It was a caution to us all. I'm sure their combined contribution to the hole in the ozone layer will be duly noted in the annals of scientific discovery listed under our flight number. If not, it should be. And it should also be noted that the lavatory aboard the airship SMELLED BETTER than the cabin air. I wish I were kidding. Sadly, I am not. HOLY MOSES!!! Why are their no oxygen tank vending machines on board a plane?

When the plan landed, I'm reasonably sure that I set a land speed record getting out of that cabin in search of a breath of clean air.

Such is life. We must take the good with the bad.

Next time, I will be prepared with a quick trip to the Army-Navy store where I will have purchased a gas mask suitable for all biological attacks. Wonder if the TSA would let that baby through airport security?

Looking forward to the next chick trip...