Rebirth

Today I woke up grumpy.

I had things to do.

Real things

like buy a car and finish the final report for my grant.

I felt stressed and bothered.

Mikey kept assuring me,

"Everything will be okay,"

And I wanted to believe him.

But I was too grumpy.

And too stressed.

. . .

So we drove.

. . .

Out the windshield I saw the sun perfectly illuminating the ridges of Timpanogoes,

the mountain that means that I'm home.

And I saw the sun perfectly.

We turned left and a sky made up of endless rows of clouds filled my view

and I saw the sun perfectly

through the trees.

It all reminded me too clearly of when this little blog

meant more to me than it does now.

A time when my thoughts would spill here,

rest here,

die here.

. . .

Then I added a co-author

with many good things to say.

He's wise and brave and true.

I love him.

But sometimes it's hard to write a little blog

with the wisest, bravest, and truest co-author

looking over your shoulder.

. . .

Regardless,

I resolved yesterday to pick up my scattered thoughts

and try to once again organize them here.

(Whether you few and true readers like it or not).

I want to once again search for

insight and meaning

and slowly

slowly

slowly

find it.

Promises

We have a deal going. Every time I take out my contacts, Mikey has to wear his retainer and whiten his teeth. He said he's worried about the "forest of veins growing over my eyeballs."

So I struck a deal.

Tonight is the first night of it. My contacts are out and everything is fuzzy. I was afraid Mikey was going to fall asleep before keeping his end of the bargain. I asked if he was awake and he quoted Robert Frost, "I know, I know . . . 'I have promises to keep/ And miles to go before I sleep.'"

That's just the kind of man I married. A poem quoter.

So proud.

Burnt

Most couples adorn their blogs with darling little posts about "Our First Christmas Together." Ours wasn't quite as darling.

We have 7 ornaments on our tree and "ornaments," in this case, is a loose term for something small on the branches. There are two paintings and a Christmas card, so in reality there are actually just 4. Half the tree doesn't light either. I think it served as a perfect metaphor for how I felt on Christmas day. I was burnt out and empty, frustrated and sad.

Mikey was sick. Really sick. After battling congestion, migraine headaches and a fever for three days, he finally threw in the towel on trying to keep up with our family festivities. Christmas morning he put on a good face and opened presents with my family but by 10 he was ready to see a doctor. He had put up with "Try this, I'm sure you'll feel better," or "Take three of these, you look like you need it," for too many days.

We drove to the Health Center. Closed. Then to the ER. Fear of waiting in long lines and paying a million dollars for someone to tell him that he just need rest and fluids prevented us (well, mostly just me) from going inside. We were lucky enough to see a doctor in our ward who checked Mikey out in the car, cleared our fears swine possibilities, and prescribed him some meds.

Next we drove to the pharmacy where they gave us the run around because we didn't have an insurance card. (Guess what came in the mail the next day? Yep, our insurance card. Timely huh?) Mom ended up having to come down and with her magic-grown-up-mommy powers get them to sell us the drugs full price. When will I have those powers?

After tucking Mikey in and getting him all set up with drugs, food and relaxation, I got to my grandparents with the rest of the fam hours after everyone else and by this time was feeling rather sorry for myself. I missed my Mikey and he was out of commission for the rest of the day. He did get up and join us for an hour of games from about 8 - 9 that night, but asked to leave hours before anyone else even thought about leaving. I was sad and grouchy. This was our year for Christmas and thanks to some bug he caught, my holiday was ruined.

I was ornery and crabby and mean. I even cried.

But don't feel sorry for me.

The 25th this year taught me some good lessons and gave me the sweet opportunity to put my wants aside and care for the one I love most. What a better way to spend Christmas? It took me all day to figure it out, but I'm grateful for the lesson of love and sacrifice that I learned. Though my lights felt half lit and my branches a little empty, my heart was full as I finally let my eyes dry and close for the night. Inside my heart I was glowing brighter than ever and understanding a little deeper what "the true spirit of Christmas" really means.

More

So we're at a cake waffle party last night. It was a total single's party, but Roommate was hosting the shindig so we stopped by to say hello.

Mikey commented, "You'd think at single social gatherings they'd be more inclined to have veggie trays rather than cake, ice cream, caramel . . ."

I responded, "No way Mikey, it's just more to love!"

He didn't think it was very funny. And when I try and use that argument to rationalize eating, "just one more piece," it doesn't work then either.

Jars

I'm participating in another group exhibition here on campus. It opens tomorrow night and I'm really excited about it. It's titled, "322 Jars on the Wall" and we're selling [by donation] 322 paintings for 10 bucks. 10 BUCKS! That's a steal! Admit it . . .

We will be exhibiting 322 paintings of Mason Jars. Each painting will be sold for $10. Proceeds will benefit the United Way and the Utah Food Bank.

Opening Reception: Dec. 3, 2009 from 6:00-8:00 p.m.

Show will run through Dec. 14th

Refreshments will be served.

ARTISTS: Alyssa Grant, Anna Richards Peterson, Ashleigh Braithwaite, Betsy Lewis, Bryan Hutchinson, Chelsea McCoy, Chris Thornock, Danielle Stratford, Hannah Wertz, Jessica Perez. Joseph Ostraff, Jonathan Frioux, Paige Crosland Anderson, Rachel Chinn, Stephanie White, Stephanie Willaims, Whitney Ekins.

We've also gotten a bit of press. The Herald came and did a piece on us. Click here for the article. See me? There in the front? Yeah the girl with the nice unflattering pose?

Sweet.

So come and buy some cool art for a good price for a great cause.

For updates about the show, join the group on Facebook "322 Jars on the Wall"

Omen

It's going to be a good day.

I sat down to put on my Chuck Taylor's and I found a pack of gum inside the right shoe. Not a nearly-empty pack of gum either. It was only missing half a piece.

That's a good omen if I've ever seen one.