I take the Combo.

Greg's and my date night forever favorite is going to a movie. Tonight, we're going to see 500 Days of Summer. I can't wait. It looks like just my cup of tea.
I'll let you know what we think. But no matter what, we're going to have the best date ever. We always do.  Because we really like movies, we really like popcorn, and we REALLY like each other.  It's an unbeatable combo.

Heart burn?

From National Geographic, Photo of the Day:

This is a Cuban tree frog on a tree in my backyard in southern Florida. How and why he ate this light is a mystery. It should be noted that at the time I was taking this photo, I thought this frog was dead, having cooked himself from the inside. I'm happy to say I was wrong. After a few shots he adjusted his position. So after I was finished shooting him, I pulled the light out of his mouth and he was fine. Actually, I might be crazy but I don't think he was very happy when I took his light away.
(Photograph and story by James Snyder)

Oh!  Was I ever relieved to discover that this story had a happy ending.  Up to that point, I felt so ambivalent about how much I was loving the shot!

And now for something completely different.

Jerry Balisok disappered in 1978, facing a failing motorcycle business and thirteen counts of forgery. For about six months after that his mother faced having to deal with with the aftermath of his misdeeds. In the meantime, the police and FBI searched for her son. One day, Mrs. Balisok picked up a copy of LIFE magazine whose cover shot was a picture of the dead cult members from Jonestown. Among the dead, she believed she saw her son and his spouse. She contacted the FBI and the media for assistance, and finally she went to where the remains had been returned to the US for identification. (*By the time the bodies were recovered from Jonestown the process of identification was extremely difficult.) The charges against Balisok were dropped. Mrs. Balisok passed away in 1983. In 1990, a man by the name of 'Ricky A. Wetta' was arrested for attempted murder. A check of his fingerprints revealed he was actually Jerry Bibb Balisok! According to the cemetery, no one was ever buried in the grave, because positive ID could not be made on the body. This is why the stone reads "Buried in Oakland, CA." His mother had the stone placed out of frustration because she believed the Government would not let her have the body of her 'son.' She went to her own grave believing her son had died in Jonestown. Jerry is currently serving a prison sentence in Washington. Damn the State Department? Damn Jerry Bib Balisok for what he did to his poor mother!

A simple request

The left hand side of the back window of this SUV had the familiar little decal family: a row of stick figures lined up along side each other, starting with Mom and Dad and descending in size down, down, down to a little stick baby. I always smile at these. I like to imagine what it would have been like to have been part of such a huge brood. All the noise and chaos and teasing and loving. I really yearned for that as a child. But on Friday afternoon in the sweltering parking lot on the east side of University Mall, what really struck my heart and imagination was the worry, heartache and struggle that this family must be going through right now. It must be pretty serious, because they are asking everyone and anyone who might see their car window to "Pray for Jaquell." Of course I don't know who Jacquell is, nor do I have any clues why she needs our prayers, but it's obviously serious enough that the grown-ups in her life are asking for our petitions in her behalf. So, I've been praying for Jaquell, and all those other little stick people who love her and are also worrying about, loving and praying for her. I hope you'll join us.

L'Auberge

Several water features line the pathways as you make your way down to the creek.

The wide, rocky creek is lined with huge cottonwood trees which allow just enough sunlight to filter through and splash onto the red flagstone patio.

The creek cools the summer air and sparkles in the afternoon sun.

 And when the waiter comes to refresh your soda, he brings it in a little silver pitcher and pours it for you, right there at your table . . .  

Everywhere you look, you find loving attention to detail.

This beautiful little outdoor restaurant, set right on Oak Creek in Sedona, Arizona is one of my favorite restaurants in the entire world.  No matter how hot the Arizona sun might be, when you walk down the winding paths into the trees that line the creek, it's always cool and peaceful.   Last year we were here in June and ate and laughed while we watched several families of baby ducklings splash around in the water.  This year, those babies were bigger and kept us entertained as they'd float past our table and down the creek for about 50 yards or so and then hurry to fly back up stream, skimming the water as they went, to start all over again.  

I'm not sure who was having more fun, Greg and I or the ducks.  But I'm pretty sure it was us.  Listen to our order: a crisp, cool salad of field greens with candied walnuts, bleu cheese and fresh pears topped with a light balsamic dressing and grilled filet of wild salmon.   Hand cut french fries tossed in truffle oil and parmesan. . .  And a turkey, bacon, tomato and avocado sandwich with garlic aioli on a fresh home made ciabatta roll.  Oh my.

Even the granite sink in the Men's bathroom was unique and beautiful. (Greg stood watch while I peeked.)

When we move to Arizona and you come to visit, I promise we'll come here for lunch.

Turn up the volume and close your eyes.

How great shall be your joy . . .

Gretchen's daughter Tiffany, and her kids, Gideon and Avery

Elder Imnotsure, Gretchen and Elder Sondereger

Gretchen's sister Suzanne, Gretchen, and Suzanne's honey, Ed

Poor Greg hadn't performed a baptism in over 13 years--

but finally dip #3 turned out to be the charm!  

(We figured Bart and Gav got a good laugh.  It was just their kind of baptism!)

and our beautiful Gretchen who in every way exemplifies Alma's words . . . 

. . . willing to bear one another's burdens, 

that they may be light;

Yea, and . . . willing to mourn with those that mourn . . . 

and comfort those that stand in need of comfort, 

and stand as [a] witness of God at all times 

and in all things, and in all places that [she] may be in . . . 

It was a beautiful day, Grethen.

Thanks so much for sharing it with me.

I will hold the memory forever in my heart!

My Happy Thoughts

The La'ie 4th of July Gang

Waiting for Ireland

Wrapped around his little finger.

The Lord Closed a window, then opened a huge door.

A little Gavin in the oven.

Sweet little girl, please-- GO TO SLEEP! 

Our newest big brother.

Happy thoughts--keep thinkin' happy thoughts.

No sense in letting the mind go anywhere else.

No sense at all.

Divine Attributes

Dear, dear, dear ones,

After four months of virtually non-stop travel, classes, study, family events, home repairs and work stress, I woke up one morning into the usual cloud of guilt that I hadn't had the energy or time to update my blog in weeks, and   in   that  single  quiet    crystalline    moment    realized  that what I really wanted to do was disappear the pressure to blog regularly, explode the expectation of coming up with something 'significant' to say on any kind of a regular basis, and gently slide easily back into simply living and living simply--and expressing myself with abandon--free of even the lightest intimidation that ANYONE would be dropping by to see what I was thinking or had to say.

I never imagined that this quiet decision on that bright Bermudian morning would end up coming off as a slap in the face to the people who have been lovingly dropping by to peer into my crazy thoughts and leave a little love and support behind as they read.  I never dreamed my need for a break would end up giving the people I love the impression that they were being ousted from my life.  Oh my.

Good people at Blogger, a simple request: Re-think your privacy design, would you PLEASE? Give us a way to gracefully slip away into quiet oblivion without leaving our followers feeling like some kind of exclusive club has been formed and they haven't made the cut for entry! How 'bout the option of a simple one line message to tell folks we just need a little break for now? Give us a way to draw the drapes for a minute yet still leave an 'I love you' note on the front door. 

Get this:  When I went to my own landing page and read that I hadn't been "invited"--I found myself feeling excluded and abandoned.  What's up with that?  It's about time I re-set my 'relationship default setting'  don't you think?  I mean, really.  What is up with that?  

Celebrate Freedom!

For me, freedom is the ability to direct quality of my life through managing my thoughts and actions. It's knowing that I can make my life better in a moment by the thoughts I choose to think and the feelings I choose to focus on, and finally, the actions I choose to take.

What is Freedom for You?

Am I Really Looking?

Dad and I found this seagull kite in Sedona last fall and bought it for Uncle Bart. The first thing he did after we gave it to him was take it out and attach it to his golf cart.  At first, the little seagull dipped and twisted like a drunken sailor and we laughed and laughed as the neighbors drove past or stood in their driveways and shook their heads.  Later, he went out again and drove up and down the street in front of the house so Gretchen could take a picture of Jonathan to send me.  He really made sure we knew how much he loved this silly gift.  Now that he's gone, I'm cherishing this memory of my brother's good heart.

It's funny, it's often not until after a person is gone, that we come to fully appreciate the little things they did in a way we never quite got around to while they were alive and here with us.  Why do we wait until they die to realize how precious they really were?  What are we waiting for?

Today, I'm wondering what kinds of things I might be forgetting to appreciate in the people I love.  Am I remembering to really look?  Do I have eyes that see?
Thornton Wilder captured it well in Emily's cry as she tried to re-experience the joy of  her twelfth birthday from the other side of the veil, 

 " Oh earth, you're too wonderful for anyone to realize you . . .

 Do human beings ever realize life while they live it?"

Dear Wynette

When I read your comment on my last post about Gavin, my heart broken wide open--just as it does every single time I hear of another mother thrust into this unimaginable land the two of us now inhabit.  You've joined a club to which you never in your dreams would have imagined you would belong--and you're now asked to survive every parent's worst nightmare. I want to reach out to you, put my arms tenderly around you, hold you, and whisper, "I know.  I know.  I know.  I am so sorry."  How I wish I could.  Thanks for reaching out.  I now how hard that can be.  I WISH I had discovered your post earlier today--as I'm just now racing out the door and really haven't any time to say all that I want to say to you right now.  So, for now, I'm going to post something that I wrote a couple of months ago to another mother I met on a grief forum/support group I belong to.  I encourage you to visit this site:  beyondindigo.com  .  The pain you're in is as deep as a mother's Love, and as precious and unique as is your relationship with your beautiful son.   You may find some understanding and comfort in the stories of other mothers who have posted on the site.   I'll write more tonight or tomorrow.  Until then, you'll be in my prayers.  I promise.
Dear Cory's Mom,

I am sad to think of another mother out there grieving over a beautiful boy gone from her life. I am so sorry and send you love and understanding.
We too have lost a son, our only son--by best buddy in this world. On June 17th (Gav passed away on Father's Day) it will be two years, so I've been through at least one anniversary and am coming up on the second. I still think about Gavin many times during every day, but I do that with my living children, too. That's just what mom's do, isn't it? 
As far as anniversaries go, this is what I've learned: At first, we are aware of how many days it' been since they left us, then as time moves on, our awareness of 'that' date stretches out to weeks. More time passes, and I find I'm still aware of the 17th of every month, and try to go a little easier on myself, take a little more time to remember that I'm still healing and acknowledge that. Anniversaries are important. They give me time to remember to honor myself as someone who has experienced a great loss.

On the one year anniversary of Gav's death, we made sure that my daughter, his sister, was visiting with her husband and little boys. We had lots of pictures of him out and we talked about things that he loved and the things that we loved about him. We shared a good meal. We had a family prayer. I had a big bouquet of balloons and we took them out into the front yard and whispered messages 'for Unkie' into them, one at a time, and then released them and watched them float up to heaven. (I know, environmentally stupid--but it's what we needed to do, so I released them with prayers that no creatures would be hurt.) As I watched each grandson whisper his messages into his balloon and send it heavenward, I felt a little more of my pain release. It was good to hear them speak his name and to realize that as we continued to do these types of mini-memorials with them, his memory would live on in their hearts.

I just recently lost my brother Bart, the other 'Golden Boy' in my life. His birthday is coming up on the 21st of this month. His widow and I are going to fly over to Hawaii to share this time together. We plan to visit the bay where my Bart and Gavin anchored before they sailed together to the mainland. We plan to picnic on the beach there and find a beautiful spot to throw a couple of leis into the ocean. We'll sing Happy Birthday and have cake and let our little grandsons blow out the candles. We'll do these things because they're uniquely significant to both Gavin and Bart's lives--and to us. I told my sis that she can cry all day if that's what she feels like doing. Nobody's going to hurry her, judge her, or tell her that "Bart wouldn't want you to cry." (I think that kind of talk is BS. Sorry, but I know Bart would want her to heal, and when we lose someone, tears are a part of healing.)

Anyway, these are the kinds of things I've found to be helpful. You'll find your own--those things that will be significant to your love for Cory. But I encourage you to use the day to celebrate his life on that day. The kinds of things that will act as meaningful reminders to those of you who love him that Cory lives on in your hearts, that he will NOT be forgotten, that it's OK to speak his name and remember his life. And it's OK to cry when you need to.

Now there's just one more thing that I need to post for me. On Saturday, more than 18 months since Gav's death, we finally cleaned out his car. We've found someone who needs it and we're giving it to her in his name. Afterwards, I stood in the laundry room and hugged a shirt that Gav had left in his trunk . . . how long ago? Long enough that his smell was missing. I searched for it, buried my face in that shirt, tried to imagine it there. It wasn't. But I did feel him in the thin, smooth cotton against my cheek, and I held it tight to my chest and cried--hot, yearning tears. I don't resist them when they come. In many ways, they're part of what I have left of my boy, and it's good to feel them on my face, taste their salt on my lips.
If, as a fellow grieving mother, I could leave you with one message it would be this: Your longing for Cory won't ever leave you. You're going to learn to accommodate it and 'live around' it, but it will stay with you until the day you die and the two of you can hold each other again. Not everyone around you will understand this. That's OK. Hopefully they won't ever get their turn to understand. But for you, it's important that you to know that it will always be there. And that doesn't mean that you're weird or deficient in any way-- You're simply (and significantly) a mother who has lost a child. Anniversaries will come and go. Some will be harder than others. You'll learn to have joys--even though you still miss him, and you'll learn to get on with a good life--even while you still miss him. But please, always give yourself permission to do those things that honor this truth: He is your son, and he is gone, and you miss him. And its right that you do.

Hope some of this helps a little. I'll keep you in my prayers. I know I couldn't do any of this without the Lord.
Love,
Annie, Gavin's Mom

Still missing you, Gav.

(Oh, how we would have loved this song, this video.)

I slept with your teddy bear last night. It wasn't enough.

Still missing you, my boy. 

All day. 

Every hour. 

All night. 

Every night.

Every rain, every snow, every misty morning.

Every bit of news of every old friend.

Every new flower or birdsong or fresh young leaf .

Every hike, every wave, every vista.

Every sunrise, every sunset.

Every moment of sun on my skin.

Or breeze on my face.

Every old song.  Every new one.

I think of you.

It all wants to be shared.

 With you.

Accentuates the loneliness.

Without you.

 So I slept with Gummy last night.

Again. 

He wasn't enough.

But you were worth it. 

Every hour, every day, every night. 

All of it.

All of it.

All of it.

I'm considering adopting

 . . . Mr. Jiggs from the London Zoo.  

Do you think he'd clean and organize my drawers and closets too?

Photo and story link:  National Geographic

Dreadfully sorry.

Dearest Raleigh, Cardon, Lincoln and Cole,

     Mum says I'm to tell you she's dreadfully sorry, but with jet lag and the laundry to be done, not to mention bills to be paid and the lou pump out again . . . well, we're just going to have to wait a little longer for pics from our trip.  She did promise me that next week, she'd hop right on it though.  With pictures from London (including more of me way up in the sky! howdya like that, huh?) plus photos of me riding the Tube, eating pancakes in Amsterdam, museum hopping in Paris and bicycling 'round the French countryside, well, as for me, I'm thinking it'll all be worth the wait after all, don't you think?

Till then, so sorry to disappoint, but what's a bear to do?

Ta ta for now,

Paddington 

p.s.  Oh! And we've also had a fluffy tailed squirrel at the bird feeder, PLUS a nest of baby robins outside Mum's shower window.  I'll be lying in wait with the camera for shots of all this excitement.  It's so good to be home!  Oh, how I wish you were here. -PB

Previews

No blogging time today.  But some fun stuff is coming.

Cheerio!

Harrod's

(Just learning how to use flickr, so this mosaic isn't exactly what I was hoping for . . . I wish Matt and Heather weren't all the way over on the other side of the pond--I'd have called them this morning for a tutorial.  I think there's a way to post these so you can click on each individually to enlarge?  I feel lucky even to have broken the code on how to make this stinking, not-what-I-had-in-mind mosaic though.  It'll just have to do for now.  I've only got about 10 minutes left of my 90 mins of internet usage here my hotel room.  If you're sensing a hint of technology frustration here, you're right on the mark.)  

Harrod's is a favorite stop for me while in London.  My sweetest memories of this fantastically fantasmic store are from my first visit to London with Natalie.  Our enchantment on discovering the luxury bathrooms for the first time comes to mind.  (Yesterday, Greg had the camera with him in the Men's room or I'd have shot them, too.  But it's just as well.  We're now 10 years since and they're not quite what they used to be.  In all fairness here: time has taken it's toll on me too.)  

Harrod's food courts are still breathtaking.  Greg and I first sat down at the Caviar Bar but changed our minds after a quick look at the menu which announced $425 servings. For lunch.  How to choose?  Fresh sushi? The seafood bar? We settled on Harry's deli where we each ate chicken noodle soup and 1/2 sandwich for 50 pounds ($70 US) for the two of us.  I've shot Greg's soup, lox and bagel here.  My Reuben was a wonder.  No Russian dressing (ala Carnegie Deli in New York), but I soothed my disappointment with a dollop of Raspberry Horseradish relish.  I know, at first I was incredulous, then curious, surprised, then enchanted.  We wandered, literally wide-eyed,  through the Confectionary surrounded by miles and miles of exquisitely displayed chocolates, y chocolat.  I did my best to resist these Sirens, but finally succumbed to a creamy, mouth-melting chocolate and hazelnut praline.  (My pants got tighter just smelling this little delight.) The photo of those red currants in Produce needs to be billboard size to give you the same feeling they gave me.  Here among art gallery-quality displays of vibrant fruits and vegetables, I found exquisite pomegranates for a mere 6 pounds, a piece ($8 US).  I almost bought one--they were perfect.  On to the perfumery.  Here, the 6+ foot tall floral arrangements were impossible to capture without a wide angle lens--there were at least 40 of them, balanced atop each perfume counter, I imagined some lavish, royal wedding.  I settled for close-ups of the Calla lillies.  If the pictures above were whole, you'd see one of the dozens of impeccably dressed sales women standing with here with her arms folded, ready to politely remind me that I am NOT allowed take pictures here.  So we were off to Men's furnishings, where Greg found Dior ties at L100 a pop.  Oh, and I wish you could really see the opulence of the Egyptian escalator with it's uncharacteristically quiet shrine to Princess Diana and Dodi.  

Natalie, Natalie, I wish you were here! 

A good thought

Every relationship--husband and wife, parent and child, best friends, colleagues--is dependent on trust.  It is not possible to have a relationship with someone you cannot trust.  The only thing you can have with someone you can't trust is a strategy.    Sheri Dew,  Saying It Like It Is

Photo Credit:  Nicolas Moulin

A Magnificent Milestone

Our beautiful, smart, talented, tenacious, loving, generous, and truly gifted Jenny will graduate from the University of Utah on May 8th. It's been a long road with many unexpected detours, but she has determinedly stuck with her dream to graduate and we are so, so proud of her. Jenny, when I saw this video, it made me think of you. If you can accomplish all that you've just accomplished, you can do anything! 

JENNY, you are a ROCK STAR ! 

and I CAN NOT WAIT 

to see what you'll make happen next!