That's Not Food: Less Preachy, but Still Important

Between the scrum of last election and the hormonal chaos of a hysterectomy, I seem to have misplaced some of my obnoxious opinionatedness. I miss it a little. I'm sure you won't. On the subject of food, for instance, wherein I have scrawled many a manifesto, I had come to be a little freaked about about pretty much everything.

MSG is still evil, it doesn't mean I don't eat it. I know how to eat well, it doesn't mean I do it. Still, there are some things that just shouldn't be allowed to be called "food." One of those things is Sodium Benzoate.

I'll make it short and quote my latest issue of Martha Stewart Food:

"Sodium benzoate is a preservative used to inhibit the growth of bacteria in acidic
foods. On ingredient labels, it is occasionally listed as "E211." The substance also occurs naturally (albeit in very low levels) in many foods, such as cranberries, prunes, and plums. The USDA considers it to be harmless in small doses. [Sorry, I can't help myself here--the main thing the USDA "considers" is the demands of big agribusiness.]

So much for less opinionated. Going on:

"You will find sodium benzoate on the ingredient list of salad dressings,
sodas, sports drinks, fruit-flavored juices, pickles, condiments and even some
cough syrups."

OK. So what?

"Sodium benzoate has been connected to two health risks. One study
linked products containing the additive to hyperactivity in children, and others
have pointed out that combining sodium benzoate wtih vitamin C produces benzene, a known carcinogen [emphasis added]. You may want to avoid this pairing, which is common in some sodas and flavored beverages."

"A known carcinogen." Seriously, people.

All I'm saying is, just because it's on the market shelf, please don't assume the government wouldn't allow it there if it wasn't safe.

Just sayin'.

In conclusion, to make up for that moment of food preachiness, I leave you with this hilarious transcript of the 4/11/2009 episode of Wait Wait...Don't Tell Me on NPR, wherein my quasi-hero Michael Pollan loses a food debate with my longtime favorite funnygirl, Paula Poundstone.

Peter Sagal: What should we be eating?

Michael Pollan: Food.

Paula Poundstone: How thick is your book?

Michael Pollan: It's very hard now for us to know what food is. Because there are all these edible food-like substances now that compete with food in the supermarket. So a lot of the book is helping people distinguish between the edible food-like substances and the real food.

Paula Poundstone: But let me ask you something. One of the things that has made my live worth living is Ring Dings. And I feel that it is food. Are you going to tell me that's not food?

Michael Pollan: There's a few simple tests to figure out if a Ring Ding is food or not. How many ingredients does a Ring Ding have?

Paula Poundstone: Devil's Food Cake -- one. A creamy filling -- two. And a rich chocolate outer coating. What's the matter with you?

Michael Pollan: I would look at the package next time, that creamy -- CREAMY -- is not cream.

Paula Poundstone: C-R-E-A-M-E-Y. Creamy. What the hell's the matter with you?

Michael Pollan: But...but but but but...There are special occasion foods.

Paula Poundstone: What do you mean special occasion? I said it's what makes my life worth living. Are you suggesting I save it for one day a year?

Michael Pollan: I wouldn't want to deprive you of your...

Paula Poundstone: You know, you may know a lot about food, but you don't know the first thing about living, buddy.

I love you, Paula!

Why I have time to blog

So, I lied about the Sophie pictures. But, I did get all the pics I wanted to post scanned and will do it this week.

Here's why I have time to blog--because I had just put Lucy and Noah to bed tonight and was going out to move a rooster to a new pen before it got totally dark.

Noah got out of bed, so Lucy got out bed, and they followed me outside (with Ben yelling at them because they were walking on his newly-mopped kitchen floor--remember my love for child slavery?).

When she saw me venturing into the backyard darkness, Lucy was instantly panic-stricken. Her greatest fear was realized: I was going to feed the turkeys.

I wasn't really. But in her tiny, tiny little three-year-old mind, the only thing I do outside at night is risk my life feeding turkeys. This is because about two months ago, I was coming back from feeding the turkeys and was straddling the wire fence between our back chicken coop area and the landlocked lot where the turkey cage was at the time.

I was still in my work clothes, because I'm a slow learner and was (again) doing farm chores in business casual attire. Ben had just come out to tell me that Lucy wasn't staying in bed (David was working in his downstairs office). But by the time Ben got to me, she was on his heels, barefoot in the dark and upset. I commenced to get my foot stuck and fall backward over the fence, getting caught in some barbed wire that we'd pinned back from the crossing spot, and landed on my back with my feet tied up in the fence.

Lucy went into hysterics.

I kept telling Lucy, as I lied on my back in the dirt, that mommy was fine and not to worry, but the hysteria only escalated and she ran screaming into the house in horror. Ben tried to get my clothes unhooked from the wires, but in the end, I had to just pull them free to stand up, ripping my favorite "new" (DI) red shirt and work pants.

I made my way into the house and had to comfort Lucy at length while she cried, "Mommy fine? Mommy OK? Mommy NO FEED THE TURKEYS!!"

Then, at least once a day, every day, for at least a month she again counseled, "Mommy no feed the turkeys, OK?" And, if she saw me going out in the yard at night, she'd run out and grab my hand and lead me back to the house, saying "Ah, mommy's tired, mommy want to go to bed. Mommy no need to feed the turkeys."

It got to be that, even at mid-day, she'd randomly inquire, "Mommy feed the turkeys? Mommy OK?"

Apparently I'd rocked her world with uncertainty and traumatized her for life. Since then she's been treating me like a fragile being. It didn't help that I fell down the stairs a few weeks after that, of course right as she'd wandered out of bed, again, after being officially tucked in, again.

That only fueled her fretting.

So tonight, I shooed her inside while she began getting upset about all the horrific possibilities of mommy going outside at night, worried tears welling up even before we got back to the door. In order to get her to stay in bed, I promised mommy would stay inside.

So, I'm just waiting for her to go to sleep so I can go outside and move the rooster.

How does the story end? The four turkeys, all female, all likely to be well over 20 lbs when dressed, meet their doom on Saturday, because my sweet mother bought me a deep freeze over the weekend.

But somehow I doubt dead turkeys (and the bloodbath that will precede it) will put Lucy's troubled mind to rest.

Sophie's Birthday (Day 1)

Today we acheived some high-yield, low effort birthday perfection. I did have to get up at 6 a.m. to have the requested Monkey Bread ready by 8, but then we took our time baking cupcakes tor today and the cake for tommorow (the real birthday: #8). The whole family ate burritos at the park, met some friends for play and cupcakes, all went swimming, played some more, Dave BBQd hamburgers, we watched Tale of Despereaux (sweet but preachy) while I cuddled with Sophie.

I knew I'd succeeded when I got a compliment from Dave for putting together such a nice day for Sophie, and both Sophie and Ben independently complimented my cupcakes as "looking just like store bought!" Um, thanks.

Noah's line of the day as he prepared to release an untied balloon to fly across the room: "Prepare...to be...amazed. He also asked that his name be changed. I told him he could pick from one of his actual names: Noah Hyrum Charles. He asked to be called Charlie. I wonder if he meant that?

Tomorrow is the primary program and I've been practicing like crazy. I love my low-key calling and never stress about it (as you would know if you heard me play), but I really don't want to pound out a sour chord in Sacrament Meeting. Especially when the chorister is so intense about it all. But energy and focus is low--I've been sick since Tuesday and if my lungs still hurt tomorrow my mom is going to test me for pig flu (she' works in a lab).

I'm going to post pictures tomorrow without fail!

BREAKING NEWS! I’ve ARRIVED!

You can imagine the surprise I felt just about a week ago, when I realized that, according to myself at 12 years old, I have officially arrived in the life I always imagined I’d have.

Granted, the 12-year old me, when imagining that glorious future self, wouldn’t have thought to be more specific about whether we rented or owned, where our money went each month, or whether the 3-year old was potty trained. In her hazy vision, she likely didn’t look too closely at how dirty the floor was.

But if she were to see me now (and I were to wear tight jeans and suck in really hard) she would probably think I’d done it.

I am married, I have had all my children, with a tidy two boys and two girls. I have a calling in the church, now actually do my visiting teaching each month and have FHE each week and my husband is in the Elder’s Quorum presidency (so apparently our family’s many sins are either forgiven or well hidden).

I now can pass as almost a stay-at-home mother (except for the part where I leave for five hours every morning), my corn is almost 10’ tall (to distract from the tangle of weeds below), I put up tomato sauce last week and one of my hens hatched 12 chicks. In essence, the dream of 1984 has been realized.

This is it. The jobs we have and the house we rent and the ward we live in now are all likely to be the same jobs, house, and ward we have five years from now. This is my life.

Acceptance is a painful relief. To want nothing more than one has—to see mainly the blessings and give little thought to what is lacking—it is such a gift. For me, it’s sometimes a gift that must be forcibly pulled down from the heavens sometimes.

In my heart (not my head) I secretly thought life would start when specific job, financial or health burdens were lifted, and that as long as they were not lifted, I was sure it really wouldn’t be living at all.

But it is.

This past summer, I pridefully prayed that the Lord solve the problem, not just make me feel better about the problems. Apparently, he thought my attitude about my problems was the problem that most needed solving, and that’s the prayer He answered.

The other day I read, “Adversity is like a strong wind. I don’t mean just that it holds us back from places we might otherwise go. It also tears away from us all but the things that cannot be torn, so that afterward we see ourselves as we really are, and not merely as we might like to be.” (Memoirs of a Geisha, p. 348)

For those of us who are inclined to live in the future, and have spent most of life anticipating the moment when a certain struggle or crisis would pass, it’s a big step to be able to say—complete with the burdens and crises—this is my life.

So, I’ve arrived!

What’s next?

still here

I’m still falling short of my goal of even just a weekly family update, so I’ll try to play quick catchup:

 

Ben and Sophie started school today (9/8) at Capitol Hill Academy.  Ben got advanced to 6^th grade (skipped 5^th) because he tested almost in 7^th. Sophie will be in 2^nd and is excited to be in school with her cousins (Kim’s kids) and the Oaks.  School is packed into 8-12 and is an intense workday, but they like the shorter schedule. 

 

I was able to negotiate yet another schedule change and now work 5-7 a.m. at home, go pick up the Oaks and drop off Lucy and Noah with Elaine, take all the kids to school downtown at 7:45, be at work by 8 a.m., leave at noon, pick them all up at 12:15, take home the Oaks, pick up Lucy and Noah, and go home for lunch and mommy life.  Tues and Thurs are a little different, as I have to keep my normal, 8-3 schedule on Tuesday for my team meeting and Lucy and Noah will either be with David, or if he’s travelling, with my mom, since on those days they both have a cute little in-home preschool with a lady in our ward.

 

This is just one part of a very grand effort David and I are making to settle down and make our lives more calm and less crisis mode.  He will be taking on as much work as he can, I will be able to step up my home/kids/family care, the school situation is good and stable, etc.  David’s actually going to get a UT driver license, so that shows you he has finally come to terms with our life.  

 

David got called to the Elder’s Quorum presidency this past week, and I think that will be good for him to feel useful.  He was a great gospel doctrine teacher, but he has missed the heavy service he used to have to do as a scoutmaster.  

 

I had a lot of health craziness the past few weeks.  In fact, I had 6 medical appointments (including a scope and a CT scan) in one week.  It was lame.  I’ll spare you the drama, but I’m probably fine.  The endometriosis problem that was left after the hysterectomy is just still causing problems, and I also was a loser on the waterslide at Lagoon a few weeks ago and subluxated my kneecap.  I couldn’t do the triathlon on labor day, so Ben was discouraged and didn’t do it, but instead we went on a hike to donut falls, and the knee held up ok.

 

Overall, it was a great summer, from the kids perspective.  We camped, went to Lagoon, hiked, swam, barbequed, played some video games, had birthday parties and generally were structureless.  I’m looking forward to getting back to the structure now.  From the parent’s perspective, it was a summer filled with tons of painful spiritual lessons on trust in God, contentment and submission and lots of personal growth.  I have immersed myself in the scriptures and in study and prayer and have come out with a much clearer view, although it’s always a work in process.  

 

Again, I’ll try to write more often.

 

xoxox

Learning

I bore my testimony last week in Sacrament Meeting (because David was out of town and I feel silly doing it in front of him for some reason--and because I felt like it).  As often is the case, I know what I want to say but sit down not knowing entirely what I said or if I said what I meant to.  But something came out in the middle that wasn’t what I meant to say, but was so relevant and true nonetheless.  It was this, “While it’s true that I don’t always understand why my prayer can’t be answered when it seems like I’m asking for something that is right, I know that if my prayer had been answered one year ago or five years ago, I would not have had the opportunity to feel Heavenly Father’s love in the way I have going through the waiting.”  Unfortunately, I said, I learn best in difficulty, which I guess is why we’re here to be tried, and to learn from our experiences.

 

Here at work we had to take a “Strengthsfinder 2.0” test when I started, and I learned I was a learner, an idea person (ideator, they called it), someone who was good at making things happen (an activator), interested in and able to get a good idea of future possibilities (futurist), could relate and communicate ideas to others well (relator).  I liked this test, first because it talked about how much more efficient we are to play to our strengths rather than spend all our energy on our weaknesses (not to say you don’t try to improve).  But also it made me realize many of what I’d considered liabilities (being a goofy, impetuous dreamer that talked to much) were kind of strengths.  And, it validated this obsession I have with learning stuff and figuring things out—especially the way the world works, the way people work and the way God works. 

 

To me, learning about things—what is real, what is true, what has happened, what will happen, how things in the world work--is a hugely important thing.  To me, learning truth helps make our actions more relevant and purposeful, more in line with reality.  But, learning, for me, often has to come with pain.  Hard learning like this can make us refined, it can crush us, it can make us bitter.  I’ve allowed it to do all of these things for me at various times. 

 

Let me just start by saying my life is good, and I’m blessed and things are fine.  But, there is a certain part of our lives in which we are very, very stuck and no matter how hard we try we just can’t seem to get unstuck.  And although it is just one part of our lives, it is so all-encompassing, and it tends to spill over and corrupt every aspect of our lives far too often.  Lately more than ever there have been signs that we will finally get unstuck, but I’m noticing that as the signs come and go, I’m starting to learn to hate the signs themselves—it’s like I hate them in advance for creating false hope.  Isn’t that weird?

 

This weekend I came up with this analogy about the last few years that goes like this.  Imagine you are stuck in a small, room with no windows and a locked door, and you can’t get out.  At first, you knock, bang, tug kick and finally yell at the door.  You plead for someone outside to open the door.  Eventually you stop all that with the exception of simply trying the doorknob every so often.  Sometimes, a voice comes over the loudspeaker (did I say there was a loudspeaker?) and says, “The door may soon open!”  And with the first of these announcements, you get excited, and you wait for the door to open, and you think about all the possibilities that await you when the door opens.  But it doesn’t.  Periodically, the same announcement is made, but nothing ever happens.  So, after several times you stop being excited.  Sometimes you may regress and go back to kicking and screaming at the door and begging for someone to open it, sometimes you let yourself get excited again.

 

Now I feel like am in that place where I’m sitting quietly in the room, trying to not even think about the door, and when the announcement comes, I just fall apart and wish it would just go away.  Is this a broken heart and a contrite spirit?  Why is broken needed?  Now I’m finding I resent things that try to make me hope, even great opportunities and possibilities.  I don’t like that I’ve learned to fear hope.  That seems very backward.  That’s why we need trust (faith) and hope together—we have to have faith that the thing we hope for is a true thing.  In my case, I have reason to trust it is a true principle that the door will open someday, I just need to keep my sanity and faith while I wait.

 

Just my rambling thoughts.  I read an interesting article about learning, and baby learning vs. adult learning here:

 

Op-Ed Contributor: Your Baby Is Smarter Than You Think

 

Budding triathlete

Maybe things would have gone differently if I’d discovered triathlon at 10—my health, my confidence, who knows?  Ben was inspired by my Spudman adventure and asked if he could do a sprint triathlon with me.  I told him he’d have to show me he can do each part of the triathlon before I’d pay and sign him up.  I told him that at the pool.  He commenced to swim 10 laps on the spot to meet the 500 meter requirement, and, in the coming three days, worked up to 12-mile rides on his bike.  We are going to start walk/running together a bit, since that’s the weak link for both of us.  So, we’re just doing the rec center one on Labor Day, so no wetsuits and low-key.   I’m excited for him to start feeling that sense of accomplishment at such a young age.

 

I swear, it was all him, I never would have asked him to do any of this. 

 

So, for his birthday, we got him a new, bigger bike, complete with a (cheap but it works) bike computer to see his speed, distance, etc.  We also got him a punch pass for 25 trips to the rec center pool, and a training journal to plan and track his efforts.  Due to lack of time (and possibly planning), I was up until 3 a.m. last night decorating his cake, putting up the birthday sign, blowing up balloons, buying the bike (24-hour Walmart—I guess I see why people shop there, but seriously, where do those weird people I see there come from?)   Over the years when I do something really fun for a birthday, the others expect it for theirs, and then it becomes tradition.  For instance, I make exotic cakes in whatever shape is requested, not to say I’m a fancy cake decorator, they still look VERY homemade.  Ben and I decided on an exploding firecracker, since he was so into the fireworks in July.  I even was able to nail that perfect reddish-pink of the Chinese firecrackers!    ast year I left Sophie’s presents wrapped and stacked on the table for her birthday for when she woke up.  Sophie asked a few days ago if I’d do that again for hers in September (it makes it feel like Christmas, you know).  So, Ben asked for the same treatment and specifically requested a mylar balloon, but I didn’t have much to present on a table, so I added a pencil box for school, etc.  Of course, Noah has stated his expectation that he will have the same table setup in October.  Ben also asked for cinnamon rolls this morning, so I arranged to go into work late, made the dough last night (about 2:30 a.m.) and got up at 6:45 to put them together.  I wanted big ones but I accidentally made them huge—bigger than a CD.  Oh well. 

 

He was ecstatic this morning and just loved everything.  I called him at 11:40 a.m. (10:40 California time) and told him he was officially ten.  I don’t know why this feels so monumentous, but it is.  His time in our home is half over—in 9 years he’ll be going on a mission.  It’s mind boggling.

 

I spent some time recently downloading all my Carepages entries and comments, and I was reminded of how much love and prayer was going around those days.  That was the start of me doing this blog.  I’ve had so much support from my friends near and far through all the craziness of the past several years, I just want to thank everyone again for that and send my love out there.

Ben's Ten

Sweet little Ben—Today I can’t stop thinking about my first little baby, the constantly grinning, fair little boy that hardly ever cried—that sweet little guy I had to wait for seven years to finally get to see.  I always had a feeling, deep down, that I would someday be able to have a baby, and I knew it would be a boy.  I can’t believe it has been ten years since you came into our lives—not because it went fast, but because I can’t imagine ever living without you. 

 

You have taught me so much, have challenged me beyond my wildest dreams, and have shown me how frightening it can be to look into another set of my own blue eyes and know that you are destined to enjoy and battle with so many of the same personal challenges and strengths I have.  I know I have made an enormous amount of mistakes as your mom, but I have tried to prepare you as best I could to help all those crazy “Wise” genes play to your advantage and not become your downfall.   So often when I get impatient or mad at something you’ve done or said it’s really because deep down I’m saying “Please, don’t be like me.”  But perhaps, like me, some of your strength and wisdom will come from the experience and perspective that only comes from having flawed parents.

 

You are a handsome, bright-eyed genius, still with all the exuberance of a puppy.  I hope you always keep that enthusiasm for everything.  Emotional intensity has been your bequest and burden from both sides, and this will serve to make your life both more difficult and painful and more full and rewarding.  Your amazing brains will do the same.  Your potential is boundless, your genetic road can be treacherous, your guides are imperfect—but I know the Lord will give both us and you the wisdom to enable all of us to accomplish everything we came here to do and become what we came here to become.  In fact, I know he put us all together for that very reason. 

 

I love our talks, I love your ambition, your optimism.  I love to hear about your dreams and inventions.  You amaze me, you make me crazy.  You really do light up my life.

 

Thanks so much for coming to our family and being my son.  I love you so much.  Happy Birthday.

 

 

 

 

 

Marriage

Thank heaven I haven’t had this happen to me yet, and hope I don’t.  Still, there is so much wisdom to in this article.  So often we have issues and we try to make them about our marriage when they aren’t.  Highly recommended!

 

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/08/02/fashion/02love.html?pagewanted=1&em

 

Cool Things About My Kids

We got a notice this past week that Ben and Sophie came up in the lottery for Legacy Preparatory Academy – a charter school that uses a classical education foundation based on the Well Trained Mind, complete with Latin, etc., and it’s FREE!  Yay!

BUT, we sure have loved Capitol Hill Academy and it has been perfect for Ben, so it’s hard to mess with something that is working, even though it costs money.  At the same time, we’re trying to cut back on the money thing, so it needs to be a matter of prayer.  Still, I told them to keep us enrolled and had to take the kids for testing over at the new school.  Ben will be going into 5^th grade and just finished Saxon 5/4 last year--he tested into 7/6!  That means he just skipped a whole year of math in one test!  He also tested firmly into 6^th grade level for everything else.  Sophie also tested at the top of where she would be expected to be, with reading and math at about a 3^rd grade level.  With Saxon Math, many schools, including this one, want to have the kids doing one year ahead (grumpy homeschoolers say that Saxon sold out and was trying to dumb down the program for public schools), so the second graders at LPA do Saxon 3 anyway. 

So, I was proud of them.  I’m always happily surprised when things point to the fact my kids are turning out, because heaven knows I do very little to bring that about.

David’s out of town working in GA and FL.  I’m taking the kids camping with my mom up at Tony Grove.  So, I think I’ll bail out on work now and go.

My quote for the day from today’s NYT:

“Napping, writes James B. Maas, a Cornell University sleep expert, ‘should have the status of daily exercise.’

“Mammals that divide their day between two distinct periods — sleep and wakefulness — are in the minority, according to the National Sleep Foundation, which pointed out on its Web site: ‘While naps do not necessarily make up for inadequate or poor quality nighttime sleep, a short nap of 20-30 minutes can help to improve mood, alertness and performance.’”

Hooray naps!  May I get one someday!

I’m finally recovering from the big weekend last weekend and starting to feel normal and not so wiped out.  I did do the gym three days this week and was made to feel like a slacker by the diehards I work with.  Well, time to start training again.  This time I’ll be sensible and do a sprint tri.  I’m trying to eat by asking myself “Does my inner triathlete need this for fuel?  If not, we don’t need to eat it.”  But, my eating does not come from a lack of knowledge, up-to-date scientific information or good gimmicks to keep myself on track.  I have yet to really understand where it comes from.  So when I asked myself today, “Does my inner athlete need these Cheetos for fuel?”  I thought, “No, she needs them because they are yummy and full of MSG.” 

The chasm between knowledge and action is so, so wide.  All I can do anymore is try to bridge it with heavy duty exercise.

Thanks also to you all for your sweet, supportive comments.

Xoxoxo

Valerie

 

Evidence

Here is evidence that I did a triathlon.

 

Here is also evidence that I have surrendered all dignity, self-consciousness and natural shame in the name of the TRI.

 

I have mentioned before that I have not lost an ounce training.  I did lose three pounds from the event itself, although it is likely water.  This could be that my body refuses to give up any of it’s precious storage under any circumstances and will even allow me to go brain dead before it will release any stored calorie (yep, it’s pretty much happened). Or, it could be that I only started seriously reigning in my eating a week or so ago.  Probably a combination of both. 

 

So, here is the cold, hard reality in photo form.  Even as a triathlete who trains 6+ hours a week, I have a very long way to go to feel good about being around cameras.  But I’m not going to let this bum out my high—because apparently with this, as in so many other areas of my life, the only way is the hard way.  And I chose the tri over the lap band because I wanted to really earn it, so I need to consider these my “before” pictures. 

 

Since I don’t know what order they’ll come in to this (I’m email posting), I’ll just list what I’m attaching:  Me setting up my bike at transition 1 (T1), me in a wetsuit that David said makes me look like a claymation doll (thanks, dear) complete with neon orange race cap, me with coworker and fellow tri-virgin Gary in wetsuits, our wave (7) at the start of the swim, Steve and Jesse, my caretakers, mentors and also coworkers, and me at the end of the “run” with both of them.

 

 

 

Athena TRIumphant!

I did it!  It was great!  I feel great! 

 

There were all sorts of adventures, mishaps, comical goings-on and plenty of peak experiences.  I’m working on my race report which will have everything in excruciating detail.  But the basic thing to report is that I was prepared. I met my goal of finishing in under four hours and not last (that’s walking the run and with a tire blowout).

 

Yes, I am rather achy today in pretty much every muscle, but hey, it was a four hour workout—even the veterans I went with tell me it takes a week to recover.  Still, we’ll all be back at swim class on Tuesday.  I think I’m hooked!  Yay triathlon!  Long live the Athena!*

 

*Athena is a very cool sounding name for a 150+ lb female competitor

 

Big Trees, Renewal, unRenewal and Spudman in five days!

My commitment to write each Sunday has not been even remotely kept.  Outside of work, my computer time is less, I think, than it has ever been in my life, and I sense myself avoiding it.  If you are one of the many people who has invited me to join Facebook or some other social computer thing, please don’t take it personally, I just can’t do it right now without neglecting things and people that need attention. 

 

The kids seem to be having a really fun summer, and I have felt like I’ve had a little more time to just hang out with them and relax.  David and I had a supremely WONDERFUL trip last weekend (thanks SO much to my mom, who watched the kids and cleaned the house from top to bottom, and to pa/ma-in-law who helped us extend our trip).  We went up for David’s brother’s wedding in the Tillamook forest near Portland, OR.  I was asked to sing a LeeAnn Rimes song while Nikki walked down the aisle, which was a new genre for me, so that was fun.  My coworker here is from the area, and told us to check out the Tillamook Creamery and try their ice cream, which we ended up doing twice—so yummy! 

 

In the middle of the trip we decided that since we were so close, we’d take an extra two days and drive down the coast, see the Redwood forest and cut back home across scenic highways in Northern California.  We drove 5-8 hours most days from Thursday through Tuesday.  But, the drives and days were filled with gorgeousness and awe-inspiring grandeur.  I spent much time in the car on David’s iPhone surfing the net, trying to figure out how geological formations were formed, figuring out volcanoes, the history of these huge trees, etc.  The first stop we took in the Redwood forest was for a short walk, a .75 mile loop through a huge, silent forest.  The ground was soft from the composting redwood needles.  It smelled amazing.  The morning light could barely get down where we were.  We stood looking up into the bottoms of huge fallen trees, with this huge explosion of an enormous mass of roots radiating out from the center.  I kept feeling like I had to touch the trees.  I even took of my shoes for a moment to feel the soft ground on the trail. 

 

Although there have been some exceptions, I have had a very crappy five months since my surgery, and really needed the rejuvenation this trip gave me.  By the time of this trip, I had been on my new, custom compound of three different bioidentical hormones plus two other recommended supplements (DHEA and adrenal support) for about a week, and was, for the first time, feeling relatively stable and normal and sane.  Take away all of the major stresses in my life and put me with my husband, who, when all of his major stresses in life are taken away, also changes back into my best friend instead of my stress/exhaustion fueled sparring partner—and all of a sudden, we were in heaven.  We laughed so much, and got real sleep, and listened to music, and saw gorgeous stuff.  Although my daily walks/hiking didn’t even begin to make up for all the junk food, a road trip really does appear to be the panacea for all that ails you.

 

I’ll attach a pic.  I’m the one on the left.

 

So, we came home, and, long story short, it took 15 minutes and a trip to the mailbox after getting home to have me back in tears, 24 hours to have me depressed, 48 hours to be resentful toward God and starting to bicker with David and 72 hours to become solemnly broken hearted and resigned.  For good or bad, now I knew that what remains of my stress and difficulty is not related to moods, hysterectomies or hormones, but my actual life—bills, job/career stress, personal failings, the difficulty of raising kids without being present enough, the difficulty of managing a marriage when both parties are supremely stressed out, the long-term financial outlook, life management in general.  The past two days David and I have been very consciously trying to be happy and grateful and hopeful, which has helped a bit, but it is sometimes just comical how life comes together to thwart the most well-intentioned efforts. 

 

But, the kids are cute and good and I’m planning for them to go to a wonderful school in the fall and making some adjustments to be with them more.  The Gospel has been a major rock in my life, and even though I yell at God too much, I know He loves me. 

 

I got up at 4:45 a.m. today to try out my rented tri wetsuit in open water by swimming up at East Canyon Reservoir with three of my coworkers.  This tri training has also been helpful as a stress reliever, but not so much today.  The transition to open water was more difficult than I expected and although the guys all told me I’d panic, I didn’t believe them, and then in my typical delayed-emotional-response manner, I didn’t acknowledge that I was panicking until it was almost over—I was just confused why I couldn’t catch my breath, needed so many more breath strokes and had to flip to backstroke every now and then just to get air.  And my chest felt tight, so I finally realized either I was having a heart attack (very possible) or panicking (more likely).  But, I did it and got to work by 8:15. 

 

On Saturday I walked a 10K just to see if I felt like I was up to trying it this coming Saturday.  I know I can do the 25-mile bike, since I do the 15 miles 1-2x a week and also the Tour de Cure was 25 and I felt fine with that.  And, although I only swam a half mile this morning, I’m used to swimming a mile in practice, so, with the help of the current in the Snake River on Saturday, I think I just need to put the pieces together and will be fine.  But after this, I’m looking forward to just doing Sprint Tris for a good long while.  I realize it is insane to start with an Olympic distance, but this work thing really helped me get toward this goal, and Spudman is just what is done here.

 

Hm, I really meant for this to be just a short update.  In fact, I read this article on the NY Times and found it complicated and interesting and thought I’d quickly post it to my blog.  We don’t like war, but we do like schools, we don’t like religious extremism, but I personally like religion, but most people don’t so much anymore, which leads to a push for secularization, which in this case is important to help empower women, which we all like, but it also puts forward secular ideas like having less kids, etc., and secularization can sometimes be a slippery slope to another set of problems.  But for heaven’s sake you don’t want the Taliban’s view of women being strengthened, so we fight them and put up secular schools, but we don’t like war . . . 

Life is just complicated all around.

 

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/07/19/opinion/19friedman.html?em

Plugging away.

I really would like to catch up on the family journal and still hope to soon.  We are enjoying our summer and things are busy as usual.  I finally (two months late) put 10 hours on Friday and Saturday into the neglected, overgrown vacant lot we once called garden and now it is lovely and hopefully will still grow, even though I had a late start.

 

I’ve learned that a hysterectomy is a very life-changing thing.  It has entirely changed me in so many ways, and it has been a little scary.  It turns out I was completely low on every major hormone and was at the levels of a woman in her 60s.  All the side effects that go with that—muscle/joint pain, exhaustion, depression, apathy, mental fog—well, that has pretty much just been my life, thus no blogging.  But just yesterday I finally started on a bio-identical hormone compound cream that hopefully will restore me to my 37-year-old youth.

 

Triathlon training has been difficult under these circumstances, but I’ve persevered as best I could—riding to work 1-2x a week and swimming a mile 1-2x a week, walking 1-2 miles 3-4x a week.  That is fine for training for a sprint tri, and I’m doing an Olympic in two weeks, but that’s just what I can do.  Since I don’t have a runner again, I’ve decided to just swim and bike and walk if I feel like it.  If I happen to meander over the finish line before midnight—hey, I’m a triathlete.  If not, I’ll just do a sprint tri in August. 

 

And, since I’ve been using all the workout time and bus time to listen to the scriptures on the iPod, hopefully I’ll become a scriptorian, too.  I finished our Relief Society’s Book of Mormon 60-day challenge and am now more than half way through the D&C.  What is completely remarkable is that all of these books speak with the same voice—the same voice also in the New Testament and much of the Old, the same voice I hear in the temple, and the same voice that answers my prayers.  There is no way such a comprehensive, consistent body of work can come from anyone but God, and it has been a real blessing to me in these hard past few months.  Together it has been a humbling experience.

 

The kids are great and I’m enjoying them.  Not a lot of major events to report there, but I’ll try to post all the pictures I’ve been stockpiling soon.

 

We had a talk in Stake Conference quoting Bednar's recent CES address about how spending too much time in the virtual world gives us over to the adversary's attempt to cause us to revert back to our non-corporeal existence and deny ourselves the blessings of temporal life.  This is a very powerful talk and I very highly recommend it. 

 

http://lds.org/library/display/0,4945,538-1-4830-1,00.html

“If the adversary cannot entice us to misuse our physical bodies, then one of his most potent tactics is to beguile you and me as embodied spirits to disconnect gradually and physically from things as they really are. In essence, he encourages us to think and act as if we were in our premortal, unembodied state. And, if we let him, he can cunningly employ some aspects of modern technology to accomplish his purposes. Please be careful of becoming so immersed and engrossed in pixels, texting, ear buds, twittering, online social networking, and potentially addictive uses of media and the Internet that you fail to recognize the importance of your physical body and miss the richness of person-to-person communication. Beware of digital displays and data in many forms of computer-mediated interaction that can displace the full range of physical capacity and experience.”

I do appreciate the outlet that a blog offers, and journaling is important, but I do feel that my life is richer the less I’m on the computer.  This talk was very insightful for me.

As always, I’ll try to post more for you, my beloved friends and family, especially the pictures, as soon as I can.

So Jealous

I’m having a relaxing week as the single working mother of two young children—I’m not being sarcastic, it really is relaxing compared to my normal life of two parents, three jobs and four children.  Guess where my eldest children and spouse are right now?  So, SO jealous.

 

We’re doing fine.  And you probably understand that FINE is an acronym for a phrase that includes an expletive.  Just plugging away . . .

 

Hate to Exercise, Love to Train

That's what I've learned about myself in the past several months.  Really, I don't HATE exercise, but it is just so different to be working toward a goal.  Or, at least a goal that is not, "I hope I stay on this machine long enough to not be such a gross slob one day."  Somehow, that doesn't really count as motivation.

 

Also, for someone like me, who thinks nothing but ugly and demeaning thoughts about myself all day (and has done so for the past 30ish years), something about the phrase, "I did it!"  just melts away some of that yuckiness and makes me feel--what is that feeling?--happy?  Wow, so that's what it feels like.

 

So, Tour de Cure was on Saturday and it was my first real sporting event ever.  I felt that happy, "I did it!" feeling when I first rode to work (turned out to be 18.2 miles in my attempt to avoid traffic), and the next time when I just took the main road and did it in 15 (took 1 hr, 40 min, though).  I felt it this morning when I rode to work in only an hour and fifteen minutes (thanks in great part to the new slick tires my coworker Jesse lent me for TdC through Spudman).  But, I got to feel that "I did it!" feeling at a real sporting event, crossing a real finish line, and I had a smile on my face I couldn't take off.  I looked at the sky that miraculously had blue in it (despite days of threatening clouds and showers) and listened to the live music and wandered over to the free massage tables exploring this strange new feeling of spontaneous happiness.  I hate to admit it, but most of my happiness is cerebral, wherein my brain explains to me, "Good things are happening, you are to feel happy now."  But this was very, very different.

 

It was a beautiful day, with a ride through rural Northern Utah, cloudy skies with occassional drizzle, and occassional sunny blue.  As always, the saddlesoreness was worst the first 5 miles, but then I guess it goes numb or something and gets better.  I biked the first half on my own out to the halfway rest station, and there met up with a few of my team.  There were a couple of people from the company there only to take pictures and film us, so I'll hopefully post pictures soon. 

 

Cris, another writer who works right here in my dept., rode with me on the way back, and the chatting made such a difference I'm sure, because I never really once thought, "Are we there yet?"  Cris and I got back to the park, crossed the finish line and I honestly felt like I could keep going.  Still, thanks to that saddle issue, I really never want to do more than a 25, even though the guys insist I should do the 60 next year.  It just doesn't even appeal to me, let alone the century (100 miles).  Maybe next year I would consider the Little Red Riding Hood ride for breast cancer, that's 40 miles, but there is a chocolate fountain, virgin mai tais and more massage tables at the end of that one. 

 

Anyway, as Cris and I waited for our massages I asked him, "Where is everyone?" And he said, "They're not here yet--we're first."  I was just shocked.  Not only did I do it, feel fine, felt like I could keep going, I got there before the rest of my team!   Needless to say, my inner child basked in an onslaught of rare friendly words from my typically abusive brain.

 

At church yesterday one of the youth speakers talked about physical fitness, and how essential it is to our spiritual and emotional health.  He talked about how important oxygen is to our mind, and how physical exertion oxygenates our mind to give us the strength to be spiritually and emotionally strong.  I gave him a big AMEN.  I have noticed that almost like clockwork, I start feeling down on about the fourth day after not exercising (training)--as apparently mild depression is my natural state.

 

This same boy read a quote from a psychiatrist that said that he had never once treated in his practice a patient who regularly participated in exercise that worked major muscle groups.  When I'm out from under that mental cloud, I feel like I really could accomplish the things I always meant to do in my life, from being a nice mom to pursuing my creative interests.  I've found my panacea--my magic pill--it's just that, unlike every promise out there for things like this, it's not easy.  Instead, it's the hardness that makes it work. 

 

It's the same as that happiness study I mentioned--somehow it really is the hardness that makes us ultimately happy--or at least the most fulfilled.

 

I have pictures from Lucy's birthday and other things to share, but it will have to wait.  Here's to training!  And, now that my runner has had to drop out of the Spudman, here's to training to do a 10K in 6 weeks (along with my mile swim and 25 mile ride)!  And, here's to Wade who did a sprint tri at the Utah games in his best time ever, 1:34!  You the man!

 

 

 

 

 

Arrived!

Just checking in to let you know I made it to work today in one piece—just in case you were worried.  It was probably more than 15 miles, because I chose to avoid traffic over finding the shortest route (and did so very successfully!)  It was fun, a bit of an adventure, and my legs feel a little funny now, so I beat on them periodically.  I left at 6:40 and got here at 8:20, and I generally average 12 MPH, so I was a bit slow apparently, although I still think all the windy bike trails added to my total mileage.  No gym for me today—I got here too late.  At 3ish I’ll bike the 5 miles over into downtown and pickup the van to go home to the kids. 

 

I think of it this way—why buy fuel to get myself to work when I have plenty already stored on my body that I can use for free?  ;)

 

Chicken Death 09

Yesterday, with the help of Paw-in-law and David's brother Danny and his wife Jessica and a wonderful chicken plucker loaned by a sweet chicken farmer in Sandy, we harvested 21 fryers/roasters, all weighing in at about 5-7 pounds dressed weight (after cleaning). It started out rather poorly, with a lot of "is this worth it?" thoughts.

David was being too careful IMO about the killing part and I kept reiterating how the lady I got the plucker from just took a large serrated bread knife and had them upside down (by rope, we used a killing cone made from a bucket), and sawed 1-2-3, plop, head in the trash can catcher, and it was over. I actually did the second one myself to illustrate this point, (it took four saws, I found my place, held the head down firmly, then shut my eyes for the 1-2-3---4).

I was amazed at the difference in myself since last year. City slicker has definitely been countrified. Remember I was weepy and couldn't eat meat after that first round? The second round a while back I was just ok, but this time I didn't have one tender feeling about it. I felt grateful, and today's dinner (shown above) for me had a stronger sense of thanksgiving and recognizing the reality of the bounty we enjoy (plus it was super yummy), but I didn't feel much sentimental about it--after all, I've been complicit in chicken death my whole life, and at least I know these chickens were well taken care of.

About by chicken 9 I finally figured out the plucker really did work amazingly and required very little after plucking if the operator (me) actually used it right, so after that I was fast. Dave bled out and beheaded, popped them in a holding pot, I scalded them (15 seconds just under boiling water) and pulled out large wing and tail feathers, then went to the plucker which is just a wheel covered in rubbery "fingers" spinning to the left out of a grate. I finally figured out to hold the bird so the rubber things went against the grain--feet on the right, and rotated the bird top to bottom, left to right, under wings and between legs, and all of a sudden it looked like a lovely roaster from the store--except with big yellow feet and a too-long, gory looking neck. I cut off the feet with chicken scissors and tossed it into the icewater in the cooler. By the end, this whole process was well under 5 minutes.

Meanwhile, Dennis was running errands to get more coolers, get more ice, get bags, etc. and Danny and Jess where making sure my water stayed hot enough--makes a HUGE difference in how well you pluck (and too long in the hot water makes the skin come off with the feathers--in the end I had to skin 2).

Last year I wanted to spare my kids the trauma and make sure I had them far away for this, but not so much this year. Ben and Sophie knew what was going on and chose to stay inside, Ben ate his chicken tonight just fine, Sophie hasn't feeling well for a few days and didn't eat much of anything. Noah was outside some, and not visibly traumatized, but not really happy about it, seemed puzzled and trying to figure it all out. He wouldn't eat it today, but in general he doesn't eat much meat, so it's hard to know. Lucy was outside the most and it was all we could do to keep her from the feather/blood hazmat area.

At one point when Noah first got out he came over to me while I was working a chicken over on the plucker, and said, "Mom, are you making lunch?"

Lucy came over and saw the first chicken alone in the cooler water and said, "Mom, is the chicken taking a bath?" "Yes, Lucy." I said. She said, "Is the chicken hurt in the bath?" To which I replied, "Not anymore." David called over from his killing station, "The hurting happens over here."

I feel like my dead pioneer ancestors are not so much derisively laughing at me this time as I'm sure they were the last time I was all weepy and traumatized over killing chickens while being perfectly willing to munch down the supermarket/Del Taco version. I didn't think I would come to this point, but I can perfectly see myself going out back on Saturday and wringing a neck for Sunday dinner.

Once we were all done, the cleaning was a pain. Danny did 5 or 6, which I was impressed by. Although I had done it before, I had forgotten some, and I was at 15 or more minutes a bird at first, but I worked myself down to 5-7 (still terribly slow). Today I found one I'd forgotten in the cooler and was done super fast. The trick is to carefully cut around the top and bottom ends in a way where you don't nick any of the guts, but you are able to put your hand in there like you're stuffing the bird and pull out everything inside at once, then you need to scrape out the lungs and kidneys, which are stuck to the back ribs, with your fingernails. My fingers were sore today, which made piano in primary a little tricky.

I'm just saying, like Victor Frankl says in "Man's Search for Meaning" where he writes about his life in Auschvitz, people can adapt to anything. We really have no idea what we're capable of, and the things we say we could "never" do today we may find one day we don't give a second thought.

Dinner tonight was yummy, the best part was the strawberries Ma-in-law dipped in sour cream and brown sugar. Holy cow, life is good.

Speaking of life is good, our bunnies now live under the rabbit cages in the shed rather than in them, because I wanted them to be out and more free, and they seem to leave peacably with the chickens. I let them all out in the day to run about and then they all go back in at night on their own and I shut the door. I looked in the backyard today and saw Lucy swinging on the tree swing with a couple bouncing bunnies in the grass around her and a chick or two pecking about, and it was the most idyllic scene. We've been so blessed here.

I tried to let the turkeys have some freedom today, as their pen opens up to the back pasture our neighbors use to graze their sheep (but is owned by our landlord). I came back to put them back in and the sheep had gone in there, eaten all their feed and upset their water. So I guess freedom won't be in the cards for them. Oh well, more tender meat, I guess. I'll try to get pictures up shortly.

Sorry if this was too gruesome for you, this is pretty much my journal, after all, so feel free to skip whatever.

I'm biking to work tomorrow, 15 miles, so I need to get to bed. Wish me luck.

Thanks for all y'alls sweet comments--I miss everybody lots.

200th Post: Happiness

Let me hurry and catch you up on the past month:

 

Get up, shuffle kids, get to work late, go home, shuffle/feed kids, start two hours of bedtime routine, chores, veg, crash.  Repeat 5 times. 

Saturday, get up and make a long list of things to do while managing kids and cleaning house, look up and realize it’s 4 p.m., do maybe one thing on the list, veg.

Sunday, try not to sleep during church (because it’s hard to play the piano that way), get things ready to start over.

 

So, aren’t you glad I haven’t been blogging about that boring liturgy?

 

There was one exciting thing a few weeks ago, where Noah smuggled a quarter in his pocket to primary (I was in there playing piano).  He popped it in his mouth around 10:30 a.m. during sharing time and got it lodged in his trachea just above his windpipe, triggering his gag reflex almost nonstop and causing slight bleeding for about 6 hours as we went from community hospital, then by ambulance to Primary Childrens hospital, had x-rays, had a radiologist try to push it into his stomach while he was awake and on x-ray (nightmare) and then had him scheduled for surgery to put him out and pull it back out.  Right before he was to go into surgery, he started talking again (he couldn’t most of the day) and they decided to x-ray him again (because it looked like his liver was in the wrong place—holy cow) and that x-ray showed the quarter in his stomach (and the liver “probably” ok).  We were promptly discharged at 6 p.m., and little Noah had little red spots in and around his eyes from little blood vessels broken from all the heaving and vomiting.  Next day he was warning all his little friends not to put money in their mouths.  We never saw the thing pass (poop filtering is not a daycare responsibility). 

 

Now go, scare your children with this story and hopefully spare yourself the drama.  Did I mention this happened on Mother’s Day?

 

David did his first felony trial a few weeks ago and it was exhilarating and exhausting for him—the pre-trial week, the trial week, and then this week while he’s traveling for his “real” job, I’ve been pretty much on my own in life, but it has been ok—he’s not that fun to be around when he’s stressed out anyway.  I mentioned he has some irons in the fire and we find out about them soon.  We are praying hard and ask you to join this, this Fast Sunday especially.

 

Here’s some good news—all the kids will be out of daycare after today.  I will still work 8-3, David will work at the FD 1-5 and work his “real” job around that, and we will have the kids with friends/family/sitters from 12:30 – 3:30 each day.  Since the kids are out of school, out of preschool, and out of daycare, we will save $800 a month this summer.  This will be so much better for them, and for our budget.

 

Ben is really growing up and it makes me nervous, because I feel like I’ve been just coasting as a parent too much with him and I can see he really needs active, attentive parenting complete with respect, validation and listening right now.  I also notice I tend to parent all my kids as if they were all the average age of my children—so Noah/Sophie get the most appropriate parenting, Ben is too often dismissed and overly restricted and Lucy runs wild.  This is just a generalization, but I see it happening.

 

Ben loves Tae Kwon Do, biking, scouts and wants to have his summer really start (he’s been out for two weeks).  I dream of taking them camping and fishing and doing summery things.  I pray that somehow that this life will be possible for us.  He is taking on more independence and we have nice talks at night sometimes.  Because he now goes to bed at 10, all that quiet, self/couple time we used to have after the kids go to bed is officially gone.  Kim warned me this would happen and I dismissed it.  That was about 3 months ago, but in two years I will begin my fifteen year stint of life with teenagers, so I guess that’s just where I am now—no self time anymore, or no sleep, I just need to pick between them.  Ben needs time with me to download in the evenings at least a few times a week and I need to just put him first on that.

 

Sophie is enjoying gymnastics and is excited about her last day of school today.  She’s had a good year, very much due to her wonderful grandmother/teacher, not so much due to her neglectful mom.  She really needs more from me too, and gets less than anyone.  I do end up sleeping with her many hours a night, so I’d like to get credit on that front, but alas, real parenting apparently happens when we’re awake.  I’m struggling with the idea that Sophie still has a very hard time doing the right thing and being honest when it isn’t easy and no one is watching, but I guess many adults have the same problem.  She seems to pick up the negative behaviors of others very quickly and want to fit in almost above all else.  I want to have time to help her feel more secure about who she is and help her look inside to find it, rather than outside.  Granted, she’s not even 8, but I can see red flags all over if that persists into her teenage years.  I’m trying to really tuck her in at night and chat.

 

Noah is also starting to talk and act in a way that makes me realize he’s turning into a boy, not just my little, cuddly preschooler.  Still cuddly, though.  He loved his preschool with Kona Dee, a woman around the corner who has done this for a long time, it was wonderful for him.  He is looking forward to not going to daycare anymore and being home more.  He also loves gymnastics class and is amazingly coordinated and strong.  We are still in the process of running some tests on him to make sure his metabolism/digestion is ok, because he has stomach aches a lot.

 

Lucy also is growing up on me!  Not physically, mind you, but in every other way.  She has a wonderful, sweet, strong spirit that seems intuitive, in a way, like she understands a lot about what is going on around her.  When she talks, it is as clear as a bell, even the Ls and Ss are perfect.  But, she generally chooses not to talk, except for occasional streams of gab that all of a sudden won’t stop.  She is three next week, can you believe it?  It will be a bit sad for her to leave day care, as she’s spent a third of her life there and has had a great experience and lots of friends.  There’s a good chance she’ll be there every now and then as a drop off, so that’s how I help myself feel better about it. 

 

We have been so blessed to have all the kids in wonderful situations throughout this year of me working, I really see the hand of the Lord taking care of us.

 

As for me, I’m continuing the training, have one week before the Tour de Cure and got enough donations (thanks!) to ride.  Even scarier, I start riding my bike to work on Monday.  That will be interesting.  I know you’re asking, have you lost weight with all this exercise?  Sorry, no.  Fat as ever (although I bet I can beat you skinny chicks in the pool or on a bike!).  But I have been sporadic the past two weeks with stuff at work going on and having to use my lunches to do family things.  I can’t miss one more swim class or I won’t make the Channel challenge.  Spudman is 6 or so weeks away, and I still need to find an Athena (big girl) wetsuit (new they are $300).  I’m depressed and conflicted about my garden, but can’t talk about that now.  Animals are doing great.  The Great Chicken Massacre of 2009 is on for tomorrow.  So, I guess those 21 fryers aren’t really doing great, but they don’t know it yet.  They’ll be tasting great, though.

 

I meant to write about happiness, and this fascinating Talk of the Nation show about this 60-year study on happiness, but I guess I kind of did talk about happiness.  If you aren’t going to listen to the show, I’ll give you a hint: All the things we spend all out time seeking out in our quest for happiness—rest, relaxation, a break, peace, less stress, more financial ease—of course aren’t the things that actually get us there.  It’s just like Lehi said, opposition is what creates this experience we call life.  Happy people are made happy by overcoming, working, adapting to stress, coping with challenges.  Resilience is the key, apparently, the ability to adapt to make the best of any situation, no matter how ugly.  Listen to the show or read the article it was based on: "What Makes Us Happy?"

 

This blog post is sponsored by Megan, who generously supported my campaign in memory of her sweet departed mom.  She tactfully pointed out that she wanted more blog posts because now she’s paid for it.

 

I’ll try to keep it at least weekly, if not more.  Love to all—

Valerie