Blurred Vision

Blurred vision is all it takes to let me know that I will be totally out of commission for the next 3 to 12 hours. That is my very first tell-tale sign that a migraine has arrived to ruin my day. This was my Monday morning: I got up early to jog with a pal, let's say three miles because that sounds like a decent distance. I actually ran fairly hard and was sweaty and cold (because it's only the end of June and that means summer has yet to arrive.) When I walked into the house I headed into my living room to do some sit-ups and that's when I noticed the fuzzy, crescent shaped blurry vision. As the migraine progressed, the moon shape grew larger and all sorts of bad junk can happen next. Sensitivity to light and sound, general pain all over and, my personal favorite, nausea.

As a young child I was known as a bit of a hypochondriac, and for good reason. I loved visiting the nurses office and have always had a flair for the theatrical. But as an adult, looking back on many of my childhood illnesses, I now know that I was having migraines. Sudden blurred vision, with symptoms to follow in the proceeding hours.

Ladies and Gentlemen, to all of you out there who have ever suffered through a migraine; I feel your pain. To those of you who have never had a migraine; those dramatic migraine ads aren't exaggerating. It really can be that bad. Today's wasn't terribly long, four hours, but it was still exhausting. What a day, I'm off to bed.

35%

Thursday was turning out to be a very lame day. For those of you not living in Utah, you might not be aware that the Beehive State has yet to realize that Spring should be almost over and summer should be knocking at the door. For example, the high today was 50 degrees and its rainy and cold. Add to that other life disappointments, giving Thursday the thumbs down. Ryan and I decided that our family should take a brisk stroll in the cold down to the grocery store.

We bought some donut holes, I bought some buttermilk for a killer chocolate cake recipe. As we were leaving the supermarket, Ryan spotted President Henry B. Eyring, an apostle of the Lord. He is much taller than he appears in his broadcast talks. Well, having my entire family with me, I summoned courage, said hello, and asked him if he would shake the hands of my family members. When he got to Preston, who is actually about half an inch shorter than me, I told him of Preston's plans to receive the Priesthood on his twelfth birthday. He told Preston congratulations. It was a very short and sweet conversation, a lovely unexpected tender mercy on what was otherwise, a fairly lousy day.

As we walked away from President Eyering back up the hill to our home, Ryan turned to me and said, "Well, I think that my testimony just increased by 35%." I Said "Wow, I wonder what would have happened if we had just met the prophet." I guess these occasional chance encounters are just one of the perks of living in Utah.

Gourmet Nausea

Tonight I am suffering from a severe case of Gourmet Nausea, self diagnosed. This evening, in downtown Salt Lake City, I tasted delicacies from about 20 posh, trendy, expensive, gourmet restaurants. In an event known to the world as "Tastemakers Salt Lake City," a herd of downtown restaurants conspired to tempt the public into becoming more frequent consumers. The plan? For a very low price, let consumers taste test a gourmet tidbit from several downtown restaurants. We were given a map, a wrist band to prove we paid the fee, and a description of what each restaurant would offer to the participants. It was the perfect combination of eating a little, then walking a bit, eating a little, and walking a bit. The eating a little eventually turned into a massively bloated stomach, way too much food! But every calorie was worth it! As if that doesn't sound fun enough, my brother and sister in law (Ashlee and Collin) and my spouse joined me for the feast! My favorite was the Blue Lemon appetizer, a filet of Salmon on a made from scratch roll, bacon, and other yummies that convinced me I need to patron that restaurant again. I feel tired from the walking, and nauseous from all the food. But if I do have to bow to the porcelain God, I know that what comes up won't be regular puke, it will be gourmet vomit!

Wow!

For mothers day my wonderful family made me breakfast in bed. Delicious pancakes, real maple syrup and fresh blueberries. No drink but I'm not really a beverage kind of gal. While I ate my meal as I sat cozy in my sheets, my littles brought their home-made gifts to me. Preston gave me a fancy craft flower pen, Simon made me a little paper flower pot with several paper flowers. On the stem of each flower was a chore he would do for me. Annie drew me a picture of our family on needle point cloth, and Owen drew me a frame for a picture, but didn't want to draw anything inside the frame.

As for Calvin, he approached Ryan in a panic just outside my bedroom. He held up the key chain with beads he had made for me and said "Dad, I think I messed Mom's keychain up. It's supposed to say "Mom" but it just says "Wow". What am I going to do?"

Ryan gently told him to flip it over. I love my children. Mother's day really was happy. Much love to my own Mother and the Mother of my husband, all the way back to Eve. What a blessed woman I am!

Great News!

Yesterday was bring your grandparent to school day for my first grader, Simon. Nanas and Papas were to show up about an hour before school ended, and spend some quality time with their grandkid. It just so happens that I volunteer down at the school on Tuesday mornings. When I stepped into Simon's class, he ran up to me and gave me a huge hug, and said "Mom, I have some great news! Teacher told me that since I don't have any grandparents in town, you can come this afternoon."

My poor, sweet Simon, who sees his boring mother every day of the year, was genuinely excited that I could be a grandparent substitute. That little boy is a glass is half full kind of a guy, and I know it will serve him well for the rest of his life. I bet all of the real grandparents in his class thought I had undergone some surgery to turn back the clock. I was hands down the youngest looking grandparent in the bunch.

255 Days

Exactly 254 days ago, my family went on a cruise of a lifetime to the Western Caribbean. The food was amazing, and the company was even better. All of my siblings and their spouses surprised my Mom for her 60th birthday (my dad was in on the secret, a secret that was a year in the making.) All of our children were farmed out to their grandparents, and I hope one day to ship my kids off to Nana's and Papa's for the Smith family cruise, but we shall see...

Any-who, the day before we met in Florida I went to the beauty shop with my wonderful sister in law, where my mother in law treated us to pedicures. Mine was a lovely lime green with random black and silver accents. Our beautician sort of did what felt natural, which turned out slightly odd, but still beach worthy.

I have made a conscious effort for the last 255 days not to touch my toenails. FIrst of all, seeing the lovely shade of green brought back wonderful memories of a magical vacation. And second of all, I was simply curious to see if the polish would chip off first or grow out. Lucky for me, it has indeed grown out. I have barely a sliver left on my big right toe. What a cruise! What a pedicure! What a worthy scientific experiment!

Seeing Kangaroo

We had a Sunday miracle today, we actually arrived 20 minutes early for church. It was so nice to casually enter the building, set up my classroom for the lesson I would be teaching later (incidentally it was about temples, and it went well) and find the perfect pew for the crew. Being the first ones to sit down in the chapel means that you have time to watch everyone else arrive to church.

A few minutes before the services started, a lady walked in with her seeing eye dog, and her husband. Owen was on my lap and was facing the other way when this small family entered and she sat down before he saw them. They sat across the way from us, a few rows ahead and the dog's leg and tail were all that could be seen from where we sat. Owen turns to the animal and points, while asking me why there is a kangaroo in church. I tell him that its a dog. He's not so convinced and asks again "What is that dog kangaroo doing in church." I repeat, it's just a dog, and helps the lady to see, making sure that she doesn't go into the street when it is busy, or walk into a pole.

At this point, church is about to start and the woman, apparently having excellent hearing comments that if she actually did have a seeing eye kangaroo, she would get quite a good workout everyday. Maybe Owen is onto what could be the latest exercise trend among the blind.

Cream Cheese Cheating

According to an urban legend, cream cheese was invented by an American who who was actually attempting to make neufchatel cheese, a cheese common to Transylvania. When the attempt failed and produced cream cheese, I believe the American promptly abandoned all attempts to recreate the foreign cheese. He probably made a bagel, toasted it with butter, and then slathered it with flavored cream cheese. I know I would have.

I am proud to be a part of the wildly successful and totally fun neighborhood cooking club, known to the world as "Iron Chef Bountiful." The club is a cooking competition group and is open to all women in our neck of the woods. The hostess chooses the theme ingredient. The women show up with a dish, making sure not to tell anyone what they made, pick a number and give their culinary creation a title. We then say a blessing on the food, and pig out. When we are so full we think that we might explode, we vote on the entries. The top three chefs get to have the gold, silver, or bronze trophy in their home for the month. A trophy is also given to the dish with the best presentation. Incidentally, I always think it's funny when I get the presentation trophy, but not the gold/silver/bronze. It's as if the group is saying "Golly, your dish was sure pretty. Too bad it didn't taste as good as it looked."

We women in the neighborhood have been meeting for over two and a half years. It is crazy fun and delicious. I had the honor of winning the gold trophy just three nights ago. The theme was Oats; my entry was Oat Crepes filled with sauteed apples (four varieties), topped with fresh whipped cream, drizzled with warm Nutella, and toasted almonds. But I had a hunch that my dish would do well. I cheated. I used a secret weapon: cream cheese.

The Suitcase

About three weeks ago I had an overnighter with several women from my moms side of the family, a girls trip in Kamas at my aunt's beautiful new vacation home. I packed a hard shell light blue suitcase (thanks to a the rock-bottom price at the D.I.) and Annie and I were off.

The trip was wonderful. My mom and twin came up for the event, and about 15 other relatives attended. The food, conversation, crafts, and accommodations were all perfect. When I came home, my boys were sufficiently jealous and I was reminded how awesome girl time can be.

I unpacked and life has gone on as usual, except for the suitcase. It's cold outside and we keep our luggage in the storage shed, so I had yet to return the blue baggage to it's home. It has remained in our bedroom and, thanks to helping hands, is always in an inconvenient location: in front of the bathroom sink, the bedroom door, just where you would put your feet when hopping out of bed.

Ryan had finally had enough of the light blue hard shell suitcase this morning. After almost tripping on it (again) he said:

"If you're going to leave me, just pack this thing up already and do it. But if you plan on staying, I would really like it if you would put this suitcase away."

I think I'll keep it in our bedroom for a few more days, just to keep him guessing.

Milkshake Miracle

Tonight I was desperately craving a Chocolate Peanut-butter Malt Milkshake, for obvious reasons. The downside was that we were out of milk and malt powder, and I had absolutely no desire to run to the store.

Miracle #1: After dinner, Ryan randomly gets out Halloween candy from a secret location and has everyone pick a piece. (Calvin actually got two because while playing a t a friends house, he didn't get any of the mini- Kit Kats the kids pigged out on.)... Simon chooses a small package of Whoppers, and I have just found a source for my malt powder: chocolate covered malt balls.

Miracle #2: This miracle might gross some of you out, but it mattereth not. I threw all of the ingredients into the blender and hoped for the best, knowing that without milk it will be too thick to process. Suddenly my mind is made clear and I recall how, strangely enough, I had poured a glass of milk for Owen earlier in the day and he barely drank it. Pretending like we were back in the Great Depression, I didn't want to waste the milk so I tucked it away into a safe little corner in the fridge. Mid-blender cycle, I quickly dumped the milk into the shake and the consistency became something out of a dream.

This story illustrates a few things.

#1 Miracles come in all shapes, sizes and flavors.

#2 Heavenly Father knows us personally. For some, they prefer their miracles in the form of a sporting event, for others they like their miracles in a phone call or in a cop that's too busy to pull you over... Heaven knows my language of love has taste buds, and I am happiest when my mouth is full of the bounty the earth has created. Simple foods like Chocolate Peanut-butter Malt Milkshakes.

The Sabbath

Yesterday was pleasantly busy. Sunday morning my family sang "Love is Spoken Here" at a sacrament meeting held at a retirement home. After the meeting, Owen went to every attendee and gave them a little hug. We came home and had lunch (for those littles who weren't fasting) and I had time to work on Personal Progress for my calling in Young Women's. Then we headed off to church where Preston gave a talk in primary and Annie gave the scripture. After the services we dashed home so that I could prepare dinner for the guests we were having over. They arrived shortly, we chatted and ate; a delicious dinner of teriyaki haystacks, followed by brownies and ice cream.

Minutes after our visitors left, I walked by the long mirror in our hallway. Usually this dress looked better on me... I turned to check out my profile. It almost looked like I had undergone a double mastectomy... how strange. I grabbed a breast to heave it up to where it normally sat in this dress, and then it occurred to me. I had performed in at old folks center, attended three hours of church, and had hosted a dinner party, all while NOT wearing a bra.