Wednesday, February 24, 2010

These Three Guys Walked into a Bar...


OK, so they didn't walk into a bar. It just sounded like a funny title for a blog post. And right now, I need all the funny I can get in my life.

But have I mentioned lately how much I love these three men in my life? 

They take such good care of me, especially in my "delicate" condition. 

On Monday, I was having on of my more "delicate" moments...ahem, I meant days. After dinner, they disappeared as I retreated to my bedroom with my Stay-Puf marshmallows and Nilla Wafers. If I could have had my way, I would have locked the door to and not opened it again until about 10:00 a.m. the next morning. 

Unfortunately, I haven't gotten around to calling the base maintenance folks to come fix the lock on my door so the best I could do is slam it shut. Not that anyone was around to hear me except the cat. He jumped about 3 feet in the air and that made me feel somewhat better.

About 30 minutes later  the men folk reappeared, each one bearing a dozen plump, juicy roses.

The little one brought me pink.


The middle one brought me white.  


And the big one brought me red. They laid them in my arms like I was some beauty queen (which I certainly don't feel or look right now considering I only have 11 more weeks to go in this pregnancy) and told me how much they loved me and appreciated all I did for the family.  Then they each kissed me before retreating downstairs for some male bonding over season three of the original Star Trek series.

Now don't get me wrong - flowers can't fix everything that ails a girl but knowing that the men in my life love me even when I am a big fat stink pot made me feel a lot better.


A very pregnant and uncomfortable M.

Wednesday, February 03, 2010

Happy Birthday, Carolyn!

Today would have been my sister's 39th birthday had she stuck around long enough here on earth. Unfortunately, when she was 18 years, 6 months and 23 days old she went through a windshield of a car and ended up on the other side of eternity. But you know what? I think that is exactly what she would have wanted her ending here to be like.  She left this earthly life just as she lived it: a white-hot shooting star trailing spit-fire and sparks, hell bent on rocking the boat, challenging the status quo, and never ever taking the easy, quiet path.

I was just 20 months younger than her and we grew up sharing bath time (that's me on the right - I sure was cute, wasn't I?), bedrooms, toys, clothes, fights, and friends. As we got older, we continued to share our bedroom, clothes, fights, and friends, but upped the ante with cars, lockers at school, and jobs. When she died the Saturday before my senior year was like losing a limb. I was exactly two months shy of turning 17 and I hardly knew how to function. Living without her constant, daily big-sister presence in my life was like trying to learn how to walk again.

She was quite the big sister to have and perfectly suited for the role. (That's me and her in the picture above on Christmas morning 1977 when we were living on Guam.  I didn't crop my little brother from the photo because (a) he's just so gosh darn adorable! and (b)  he's one of my favorite brothers.) There was something magical about her; everyone that met her adored her. She had a special tenderness for the elderly and was a fierce protector of the disabled. When she was angry, the gold flecks in her crystalline blue eyes would deepen to a dark amber. When she was happy, it was like basking in the warmth of a full sun in the spring.

Speaking of the spring, whenever the snows there on the mountains in Utah Valley would finally start to melt, we would forge a note from our mom (sorry Mom) and skip school (sorry again Mom) so we could head for the foot hills.  (That's her at her high school graduation, exactly three months before she died in the car accident. If I could just pan to the left a bit in the photo, I could actually point out the spot on the mountain where we spent much of our school-skipping time). Finding our favorite secluded spot, we would shed our winter clothes for the swim suits underneath and climb up on the hood of the car and soak in the newness of the season. Those were good times. Good times indeed.


She had an impish grin, cavernous dimples and a quick-silver temperament. Above all though, she loved each and every one of her siblings - all eleven of us - with a fierce loyalty that I have yet to ever find equaled in another person (that's her above with Elly, baby #8).  She was always our protector and our champion. It wasn't our big brothers who came to the rescue when the neighborhood bully would start picking on us - it was her. It was always her. Scrappy and bird-thin as she was, she always kicked the dog-snot out of anyone giving her siblings grief.

She was the third of twelve children that came in quick succession and the oldest daughter. Watching out for us was a full-time gig.   (That's her and Ang, baby #9.  My mom was raised Catholic and then joined the LDS church. There was never any hope that our family would be small.)  Aside from keeping us from getting beat up by the meanies in the neighborhood, her chief role was to entertain and instigate.  While I was the quiet, studious, obedient daughter, she was the one who was always finding new ways to make us laugh and more elaborate plans to get us into trouble with the parents.  While I was the voice of caution and prudence, hers was the voice urging us to throw off the bow-lines and explore uncharted territory.


She was magnificent

So today, I wish my big sister a happy birthday, where ever she might be.

Tuesday, February 02, 2010

His One Flaw and an Easy Fix

Finally!  I have discovered my husband's one flaw.  (Seriously folks, I didn't think he had any others aside from me, the perpetual thorn in his ever lovin' side).

But I digress: his one flaw is that he snores. Yes, I have discovered after nearly 8 years of marriage that even super heroes snore. Not loudly and not all the time. In fact, it wasn't until my pregnancy induced insomnia that I ever noticed it all that much. But now....Now it drives me to the brink of insanity on a nightly basis.

Since I am at heart a lazy person and I really really really like my bed and don't want to haul my bee-hind out of bed in the dark of night go find somewhere else to sleep, I have spent many an hour studying him by the light of the alarm clock as he lays there, peacefully snoring in dreamland. From my studied hours,  I have been able to ascertain that he only snores when he is (a) sleeping on his back and (b) his right arm is tossed carelessly above his head.  Not his left (as pictured above) - that doesn't induce the snoring. It has to be his right arm.  If he is sleeping there with his arms across his chest or to his side he doesn't snore - only when that pesky right arm is draped across his head.

In the past, I have poked and prodded and made him roll over to get him to quit snoring. It worked tolerably well except for the fact I had to wake him up and girls, let's face it: Even husbands need their beauty sleep. He works so hard for us during the day I always felt so guilty waking him up to make him roll over because his snoring was bothering me - it didn't bother him one little bit.

So over lunch yesterday I was teasing him about finally discovering his one flaw (which is fortunately not a fatal one).  He said, "Hey, next time I start snoring, just move my arm and see what happens instead of waking me up to roll over."  Brilliant! What a simple, elegant solution!!! Now why hadn't I thought of that?  (Just goes to prove that one can be a pointy-headed academic and still not be all that smart, if you know what I mean...)

Last night was the first night for me to try our little experiment.  Much to my delight and amusement, it actually worked! He starts snoring, I gently remove his arm from above his head and place it across his stomach. He stops snoring. Rinse and repeat as needed.

So I guess this means that he really doesn't have a flaw after all. He just needs me even more in his life to keep him from snoring if for no other reason. Right?