Who am I?

This question has been on my mind a lot lately.  Who am I really?  Where do I stand on issues, on friendship, on parenthood? Where do I stand when tough questions are asked?  Do I help people or hurt people? Do I knee jerk react or take time to really figure things out?

What are my true colors?

I've been questioning a lot about myself.  Why I am the way I am.  About how I see things.  We all have experiences that color our vision.  Some can be helpful, some actually put blinders on our eyes to reality.  Sometimes that's okay and sometimes it just...isn't.

My main concerns have been about religion.  I grew up a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.  In my community it was/is a way of life.  I went through my rebellious stage and figured out that I wanted to stop fighting with my parents.  I needed to live they way they were asking me to.  I knew that God loved me and I could be reminded of it more regularly in church.  That love that God has for me was and still continues to be an anchor in my life.

After much consideration and waffling back and forth, I decided to serve a mission for The Church.  It wasn't all roses but I loved it. I love the life experience that I gained.  I loved being an instrument of good in God's hands.  I loved the people, my companions, the area.  It was hard.  It helped me learn that I can do hard things.  With God nothing is impossible.  So long as it's according to his will that is. 

Recent events (and by recent I mean as long as two years ago up till yesterday) have had me questioning.  Not the gospel, but the application of it in my life.  In the lives of those around me.  Am I actually living the Gospel of Jesus Christ?  Yes I go to church.  I go to the temple.  I even try to do my visiting teaching.  I gather on Sunday with the saints and raise my voice in song.  I listen to the lessons and see what I can bring home from them.  I read the scripture, both the Holy Bible and the Book of Mormon.  They work well together.  I pray daily.

All is not perfect. All is not well in Zion.  People judge.  People who are supposed to be living Christ-like lives are judging.  Sometime quite harshly.  Friends are getting called on the carpet by other "friends" about their beliefs, political and otherwise.  "How can you call yourself a good Mormon and still be_________?"  People are being judged for how they dress.  "How dare you step onto school grounds wearing flip-flops?! Don't you know that's against the honor code!"  Peace sign = hippy = anti-Christ.  Being judged against a standard that doesn't exist: The Perfect Mormon Housewife. Might as well strive to be Barbie!

So many things that just don't belong.  So many things that really aren't a part of the gospel but seem to have always been.  The green jello with carrot shavings beliefs.  When did tradition become gospel?  Oh wait... it didn't.  Not really.

I've always believed that it is okay to question.  I don't believe that wearing flip-flops at BYU-Idaho is fundamentally wrong.  I have no idea why it is part of the honor code.  I don't understand why a 5 o'clock shadow is not allowed in a testing center.  I have no idea what is so appealing about green jello with carrot shavings. The Perfect Mormon Housewife is creepy and puts me in a bad mood.  And I really dig the idea of peace.  These are all things that I have never prayed about.  They just felt... silly.  Sometimes ridiculous.  Does it shake my testimony of the Gospel? No.  "Well how come!  Doesn't it just prove that this church is run by men and not God! Men who are out to suppress one's footwear!"  No. It means that we are all still learning, even those in high places.  It means that trials come even within our own ranks.  It means that I get to learn to get along with imperfect people and they get to learn to get along with imperfect me. 

It means that we get together on Sundays to learn from each other, to grow together, to figure out how to really live the perfect Gospel of Jesus Christ.  The one that teaches us to turn the other cheek. (Oh how difficult that is when it comes from someone close to us!) The one that teaches us to love our enemies as well as our neighbors, as well as ourselves.  The one that teaches us to change our hearts.  To rid ourselves of the natural man. The one that teaches compassion and mercy.  The one that looks upon the heart, not just the action.  The one that invites all to be a part of it.

I have asked questions.  I have asked God where he would have me be.  I asked Him yesterday as I was listening to the speakers in church.  As I was pondering where things really fit.  He told me, in the calm and peaceful way he is able to communicate with my soul, that in church, that church, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints is where he would have me be.  To learn and grow together with the imperfect because although the people are not perfect, the Gospel is.  The Gospel in its fullness.  The Gospel that comes with a living prophet and continued revelation.  The Gospel that comes from God, not men.

I am Mormon, a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.  I come from a long line of imperfect people trying to do the best they could.  Striving to learn to be better.  Living the gospel the best way they knew how.  I get to learn from them.  I get to continue to grow and improve and to love.  To change my heart, to do as God would have me do.

Let's Converse

David:   You once drove all the way to Grace from Preston steering with your knee?

Lora:  Yeah, I'm pretty cool that way.

David:   What were you doing?

Lora:   Eating a shake from Big J's.

Recap

If you were to peek into the Sullivan household just a few hours ago, this is what you would see:

4 hours ago:  David doing the dishes.
3.5 hours ago: David cleaning the bathrooms
2.5 hours ago:  Lora getting home from work exhausted with a headache that won't quit.
2 hours ago: David lying comatose in one of the recliners while Lora is reading a book.
1 hour 50 minutes ago: David and Lora both lying comatose in recliners, the book forgotten.
1 hours ago:  David folding laundry while Lora finishes her book.

This is not a typical day, but I am oh so thankful for my wonderful husband who spoils me every so often.

I want

Sometimes I think I missed my calling in life.  Well, not really calling because you just can't discount the road that got you to where you are.  But sometimes, especially recently, I think it would be just oh so fun to plan events.  Not so much the wedding things but parties, themed parties.  I think it would be fun to take a theme and a color scheme and do all the little things to make the event special.  And the above picture next to the professional pictures really makes me want a better camera... sigh.

I would especially love to put events together like this:

or this:

or this:

I just think it would be fun to have pull it off.  To just make that special event a treat for the eyes as well as the mouth.  Someday huh.

No Pressure

I’m am sometimes the worst when it comes to acting out under pressure. Whether that’s acting out in a bad way (like uber obnoxious I-can’t-believe-I-just-did-that-where-is-the-hole-that-is-supposed-to-swallow-me mode) or the complete lack of acting out which stems from my childhood fear of not being accepted if you only knew who I really am.


I know I have blogged about this before and I find it somewhat disturbing that it has reared its ugly head yet again. Don’t my insecurities have something better to do? Why can’t those energies go into backyard tree removal, or gourmet cooking? I’d even settle for laundry folding at this point. Sigh.

My point you ask? This. Please don’t judge me on first time meeting experiences. I am a fraction if my witty self when it comes to meeting new people. Always have been and I fear I always will. I don’t really warm up that much until a few times in. I like to think that I do an okay job of at least not being too terribly awkward, but… no promises.

Oh great, now I don’t know how to wrap this up without sounding awkward again. Double sigh…

I Can't I'm on a Diet

I would like to take a moment and tell the world just how much I vehemently hate those words.  "I can't I'm on a diet."  Not that I think diets are bad, although you'd think I had something against them by the way I look/eat/spend my life...?  But in reality everyone is on a diet of some sort or another. 

Some choose to focus their eating habits on healthier things, ie fresh vegetables, whole grains, skim milk, and the complete absence of Alfredo sauce. (Gasp!)

Others stay away from carbs and non-natural sugars.

Still others count calories and supplement with hormones.

And then there are those that run their way into eating anything they want or just eat anything they want with out running.

I would like to state for the record that I don't have a problem with any of these dietary choices.  Kudos to all ya'll who can make it work.  I admire your dedication, your commitment to becoming a new you.  Really and truly I do.  I wish I had that kind of dedication. 

What I do have a problem with is the judgement that comes with it.  If I offer you the most marvelous peanut-buttery chocolaty goodness that is a gourmet cupcake and you say "I can't I'm on a diet" and then give "the look".   I just don't know how to take that.  It's as if my life has been weighed, has been measured, and has been found wanting because not only did I eat one, but there are several more sitting on my kitchen counter at home. 

Oh, and how about that apology diet line.  "I can't I'm on a diet because I'm going on a cruise someday and I already indulged in an entire box of cookies and I'm so sorry they look marvelous but I just can't because I'm already too pudgy but you go ahead and enjoy that I really wish I could but you know it's the diet."  I'm not sure what to do with that either.  Feel glad that I'm not going on a cruise and eat an extra one for good measure?

Whatever happened to a simple "No thank you."  No explanation needed.  No judgement.  No apology.

Unfortunately I am as guilty at this as everyone else.  I remember saying the exact same things with the exact same expression and well, I'm just tired of hearing it.  From my own mouth as well as others'.

I just read Tawnya's post and loved the reality of it all.  There is something to be said about being comfortable in one's own skin.  Accepting the reality of your imperfect life and realizing that there's no need to be over dramatic about silly things.  (There's always an exception for the non-silly things that demand over dramatization of course... like crashing computers and mice infested stoves... Drama- Bring it.)  But right now I'm just too tired to put drama in where it just doesn't belong.  (Of course I'm probably tired because I didn't get enough leafy greens and I have a serious love affair with Alfredo sauce... sigh.) 

I resolve to turn over a new leaf.  Should I choose to go on a diet other than the "oh my that looks good can I have some?" diet I solemnly vow to never guilt anyone into joining with me.  I promise to never discuss it while other people are ordering their meals.  I promise to never use my "diet" as an excuse for anything.  I vow to take responsibility for myself and reserve the right to not explain my choices.  With that said, I think I'll make cupcakes.

In Re-cap

Just thought I would show you what I've been up to, in picture form.

Memorial Day 2010.  My mother is clearly feeling better since her anemia was diagnosed and iron was re-introduced to her system.

This is the jam that Lora made from the strawberries that Lora bought all in the house that Jack built... I mean David bought...well really David and Lora bought... whatever.  It's jam, just accept.

This is the cool ceramic bowl I got at Summer Fest... oh how I love Summer Fest!  This is only the second time in my life that I have actually purchased something there and I love it!  Don't get me wrong, I certainly coveted a lot more.

These are the pictures on my kitchen wall.  I took them while on vacation in Hurricane.  The cactus was in bloom and absolutely beautiful!  I need to get new frames, but I just couldn't wait and had to put them up with mediocre ones.  New ones to come, with matting and everything.  These were the my Summer Fest wannabes.  Sure nobody will pay for it, but at least it's got the memories and that's better than some!

This is Jax.  Jarom and Melissa's youngest.. isn't he cute! Looks like Jarom when he was just a wee one. We spent Father's day with my family in Grace.  I gave Dad "The Hunger Games".  Way curious to see what he thinks of the book.  I don't recall who the feet belong to.  Just concentrate on the cuteness of the kid, it will help.

This is Hank.  The family dog I tried to get a picture him howling.  There is a story behind it and it will be grand.  Unfortunately I can't reveal all because it might leak to the wrong person... in say Arizona somewhere.  That's where my little brother is serving.  (For those of you residing in the Phoenix area, should an Elder Hubbard hit your area please please please have him over for dinner and fill his water glass to the point where it's almost to spill over, you know when it's kind like a bubble on the surface... yeah that's it.  Then tell him Lora sends her love.)

There's more to tell, more to see, but you'll have to be content with this much for now.  Why you ask?  Because like and idiot I just burnt myself on the heating element of the oven while putting cupcakes in...sigh.  I have to try to freeze part of my hand.  All in a good day's work.

I don't even know what to title this...

Hi, let me introduce myself.  I'm Lora.  You know that person who disappeared from blogland about three weeks ago?  The one who not so long ago apologized to her blog for the gross neglect given earlier (can you give neglect?) and clearly has not fully repented of the sin.  So here's me... trying again.

The sad part is that I have actually had a lot to say but when I would sit down to do a quick blurb of something or other it quickly sounded so idiotic that I couldn't put it into words.  Like I had a stroke of self-consciousness about my writing abilities or something.  So much that it has literally stopped me from posting.  Then it turned into a "it's been so long do I even remember how" type thing that comes out awkward at best.  Or at least it feels awkward.

Kind of like me if I were to get on a bike again.  Sure I remember how, but my muscles will get all stiff and rebellious.  And for the first little bit I'll wobble and I just might look foolish. 

Best solution?  Do it anyways.  No matter how foolish I look or feel, it's the only way to get over the awkward phase and, pardon the expression, back in the saddle again.

With all the changes that have been happening in my life right now, I miss the stability of my dear friends in blogland.  We've finally finished the running from one end of the state to the other every weekend and I am more than ready to settle in and find a routine.  Oh what an awkward time finding a routine is.  It's like trying to run a race with a 5 lb weight tied to one ankle!  But find it I will dang it!  I may be awkward, but I'm also determined.  Wish  me luck!

Out with the old

SO, some of you already know this story but I would hate to keep it from the rest of the world because of it's awesomeness.  (I hope you can sense my sarcasm on that one.)

So, new house, not so new stove, but workable.  I have been using the stove top quite a bit and though not ideal, it works.  Keep in mind that I came from an apartment where a lovely double oven with a smooth stove top was in residence and I loved it.  Upon moving I knew I would miss it even more than the garage.  But alas, it wasn't mine so on to things I own.

K, so stove top good.  How about that oven part?  Last Wednesday I decided to give it a try.  I am always apprehensive about unfamiliar ovens.  More often than not they run warmer than the desired temperature and my first adventure with a new-to-me oven ends up with something smoking or charred.  So I made a lovely pasta dish that needs a mere twenty minute bake to finish off it's goodness.  I pre-heat the oven and halfway through warm-up a smell assaults my senses.  It's got an ammonia hint to it and I figure it must be oven cleaner burning off.  I open the oven, no smell only heat.  Hmm.  Smell gets worse.  Inside still fine.  Decide to go ahead and bake anyways.

5 minutes into the 20 minute bake time my eyes start to burn and the windows go open.  2 more minutes and the patio door is open and a candle is lit to help with the smell.  Still, not coming from the inside of the oven so at least my dinner is safe.  Bake time ends, oven goes off, smell subsides but windows stay open to get the rest of the ickyness out.  I feel it okay to share that the smell could only be referred to as ammonia with a strong undertone of urine.  (I know, some of you just dry-heaved.)  Oven off, Lora calls David and vows to never use again until source of foul smell is determined and annihilated.

Saturday.  First on the list of chores is find out what the deal is with the oven.  Pull it out from the wall, no obvious anything.  Quite clean in fact.

Next step, take back paneling off to check out the insulation.  Top part of panel comes off and what before my wondering eyes should appear but unsightly mounds of mouse turds so clear.  EWWWWWW!  Vaccuum retrieved and used before side panel removal is attempted.  Side panel is pulled slightly away and leaves, grass, and other foilage among other things spill forth.  We have looked enough to know that there is no way in h#11 that that stove will be spending any more time in our house.

So, out with the old and, after a flying trip around Cache Valley's appliance stores, in with the new.  I now have a brand new stove that is almost exactly like that one that was left behind.  With the extra added feature of a warming spot and a very large burner that can be converted into a medium size burner with the flip of a switch... well, I'm pretty happy.

Let the baking begin.

We're Bonding

I think I'm finally bonding with my house.  It's actually beginning to feel more like home instead of this place that I happen to live at.

How do you bond with a house?  Well for me it's fairly simple:

1.  Clean.  Every room I clean becomes my room.  The more thorough the cleaning the deeper the bond.

2.  Hang something.  No not the cat or the dog next door that keeps on doing it's business in your yard, we're talking wall decor here.  It's like I'm tagging it.

3.  Cook something.  The more I cook and get in and out of the drawers, the more comfortable I am.

4.  Sitting.  Sitting in silence is usually best.  Sit and ponder the potential of this project that is now mine.

5.  Mowing the lawn.  Every inch of the yard, whether good or bad, becomes yours when you mow the lawn.  Instantly claiming the vegetation as the friend you never knew you had or casting it aside as the will-be-removed-gimme-the-chainsaw-now vegetation.  (that sounds harsh doesn't it.  I'm sure it had it's day, it's just gone wild and like the wild olive branches they must be cast aside).

I know that this is kind of a lot about the house but it's all so new and exciting to me.  I have dreamed of home ownership for a significant portion of my life and it's just nice to have been able to take this step towards putting in our own roots.  David and I went on a walk around the neighborhood to get a better feel for everything and it was just so weird to think that we were a part of it.  Not just a temporary but a real part of it.  It isn't the area that would have been first on my list, but it will do the job.

What do you think is the most important thing about a neighborhood?

What kind of a day are you having?

I thought I was doing pretty good today until Marketing Meeting.  It's at 11:00 am and I have been here walking around and talking to people since 8:30.

Marketing meeting.

Lindsey:  Did you mean to wear two different earrings?

Me:  No, these are the same. (I clearly remember picking up the gold dangly ones I love that would go perfectly with my hairdo that is cutely fashioned away from my face so as to accentuate the earrings and their cuteness)

Lindsey:  No they aren't.

Me: (feeling them as proof).... crap!  ( 1 gold dangly, 1 beaded nowhere close to the same color other) Tells you what kind of a day I'm having!

How's yours?

Torture

As some of you know, one of my favorite things to do is torture my husband. Not in mean ways, but more in the lines of annoyance.

So last night we were getting ready for bed and I noticed a feather sticking out of my pillow. It was just a tiny little thing. So I said “Hold still.” He saw the feather and my hand readied for attack and he said “No!” I said please with my best Puss in Boots (Shrek) face and he didn’t go for it. So I put the feather down and went to bed.
K, fast forward to this morning. We sat down on the bed to say morning prayers and I once again spied the feather that I had set aside last night. So as David finished up the prayer, upon “Amen” I grabbed the little feather and started running it up and down his face and he involuntarily shuddered because it tickled. Rather than batting it away, he just sat there with shock and unbelief on his face and said “You kept that feather!!! I can’t believe you kept that feather!!”

I gave him my best “yeah I did and wasn’t that so funny of me and aren’t I great” look. Then I collapsed with laughter. He didn’t share my humor. It was a good way to start the day.

Will I Wear Make-up?

For some time now I've been pondering how my life will be different when we do get our child.  I have this vision of baby stuff everywhere, late nights, early mornings... but it's really quite vague.

I've spent a lot of time in the work force now and the change will surely throw me into a tailspin.  Will I keep up some of the good habits I've developed or will I be too exhausted to even try?  Will I shower every day?  Will my living room ever be presentable for company again?  Will I wear make-up anymore?  Or will I buy a pair of purple rimmed glasses to throw on when unexpected company stops by so they'll be so distracted by the vibrant purple color that they'll never notice that I either haven't put any make-up on or that I've been too tired to wash the old layer off and it's now 3:30 in the afternoon of the third day... sigh.

So many unanswered questions.  Fortunately none of that scares me.  I very much want to give the role Stay At Home Mom a try.  Along with questions of personal hygiene I wonder how adventurous we will be with our new addition.  Since babies come with a lot of stuff will it cut down on our desires to travel or will it just be a matter of strapping the extra stuff to the top of the car? 

We currently have a vacation/anniversary trip planned for the first week of September.  We are driving to New Mexico and staying at a condo there.  (I know, who vacations to New Mexico??  Apparenlty we do.)  We plan to stay at a ski resort (minus the winter weather) and hike a few trails, try new foods and just enjoy each other's company.  So what happens if we are chosen as parents before then?  I like to think that we'll still go.  That we'll be brave enough (or is that stupid enough?) to go ahead as planned with little one in tow.  But honestly I have no idea.  And I suppose that I won't have any idea until faced with the situation. 

So, just throwin' this out to you dear readers.  What changes did your first child bring into your life besides the obvious no sleep?  Anything from left field?  Trials?  Joys?  Feel free to leave a comment.  Even if you haven't commented before, I'd love to hear.

Under the Knife

In the name of all that is random and odd, I ask you dear readers, if you were to have cosmetic surgery what would it be?

I don't ask this out of vanity or an obsession with the perfect body.  I can tell you right now there will be no chest altering in the future, or liposuction for that matter.  Don't get me wrong, I would love to have a few pounds of fat just sucked out of my trouble spots, but what would that say about me? 

Perhaps I fear the judgements of man too much. I was joking about some magic way to melt away the fat in the general area of my tummy.  Believe it or not my husband would actually support me in that.  Not because he thinks I'm fat or that I need it, he's just watched as I've tried to work my behind off and it just won't go.  He would support it because he hates to see me work so hard to no avail.  What no one realizes is that no matter how hard I try to work my behind off my addicition to chocolate/sugar is the real thing that is standing in my way.... sigh.  It's just so darn good!  Some people have their coffee addiction, I have my chocolate addiction.  It could even be called my coping device.  I think another sigh is appropriate here.

Back to the topic.  No seriously body altering surgery, but I confess the prospects of laser hair removal sound marvelous to me.  And if I could choose only one spot, it would be my stupid chin!!  Seriously, what is up with that!  Women bear the children, the laundry, why do we have to deal with errant chin hairs!  And why oh why does no one prepare us for this at home.  Or perhaps I'm the only one who deals with this problem?  Hmmm.  could it be a family trait?  Either way, it totally stinks!  So if I were to change myself cosmetically it would be laser hair removal.

What would yours be?  You can tell me, this is a safe place.  (insert smiley face here)

A Day in the Life of Me

So I've been feeling overwhelmed.  So much so that I have left my house in a state of ickyness.  With the whole house-buying thing I confess it's made it hard to get things clean before we move simply because I have no real desire to take the time to clean it when it a matter of days we'll be doing the "big clean" to get ready for someone else to move in. 

Plus there's the primary thing.  I love primary, I really do.  But there is a mass exodus (of which I'm a part) in the ward that has left several teaching positions glaringly open with no one to fill them yet.  Fortunately we of the presidency have talented and oh so wonderful husbands to help get things taken care of.  We also get to share our own talents in the "hey does this class have a teacher today" realm.  Love it!  K, enough.

Lately I've been coming home from work exhausted.  But why should this be so?!  I have no kids, the house is all mine to clean or not to clean as I please.  But seriously what is my deal!?!  Then I started thinking about things and this is what I've come up with.

I am a morning person.  My day starts at 4:30 because I get up an exercise to get my day going and on the right foot.  (It's okay if you think I'm crazy to do this, most people do.  But friends, it really is my sanity... someday I'll explain, but for now you will have to take my word for it) My mind goes 3000 miles per hour thinking of all the things that need to be done and what I plan on doing in the day.  This includes primary stuff, work, the husband, the hobbies, the blog, the friends, the visiting teachees, and that place in my mind where someday I'm going to get a pattern and make that skirt.  (You know that really cute one that  is going to look fabulous on me and will replace the one that I have had for over 5 years and worn to church every other Sunday because I haven't had time to look for a suitable replacement.)  Occasionally I even make a list of these marvelous things that I'm going to get done as soon as I get back from work.  (including sewing the button back on my favorite pair of work pants... it took me over a year to re-hem the pant legs on these same pants... and it's amazing how well regular scotch tape holds up as the temporary hem in the washing machine)

I mean why woudn't I have all the time in the world!  We don't have children yet (not by choice, but by circumstance) so this is probably the most free time I will ever have.  So why don't I seem to get anything done! 

It's because I'm tired.  Did I mention I'm a morning person?  It's true.  My best energies are spent at work during the first 5-6 hours.  I should also mention that sometimes my work is completely exhausting.  I am re-doing the website and sometimes I want to throw the computer through the window out of sheer frustration.  (I should also mention that I'm not that good at it and the program we use is moronic... I know because I'm the moron that has to use it.)  Blah.  So I spend my days at work with fairly large projects that require a lot of brain power to get done.  I usually end up eating lunch at my desk because it's easier than trying to find a quite place anywhere else... and I have this stuff to get done, and this phone that thinks it needs to ring with people that think I need to help them.  As a result of all this, by the time I am off work (having not finished my project due to interruptions), my amazing brain that was going 3000 miles per hour has now shifted to 1.5 miles per hour.  I am lucky at this point to finish a complete sentence... literally.

I come home and simply thinking about dinner is enough to make me revert back my trusty friends, cold cereal and nachos.  That's good enough for me, but David?  Wait, don't I have a meeting or something?  A primary assignment?  A visiting teaching appointment?  A pile of dishes?  A house crying out for attention? Why yes, yes I do.  So the list of things to get done after work dwindles down to 1, maybe 2, which has never included sewing a button onto the pants (isn't that what safety pins are for?).  David comes home at 8 and is exhausted... I can tell by the dazed look on his face.  He pleads with his eyes for mercy and respite.  He takes what meager offering dinner is with gratitude and pleads with his voice this time for some activity that doesn't require brain power because his is just as gone as mine is.

I ask you, what kind of a wife would I be if the only hour we spend together not sleeping is spent running around doing projects and neglecting my husband?  So we talk to each other.  We tell out our joys/frustrations/accomplishments of the day.  We watch some silly episode of something or other on Netflix and take a few moments to just be.  So the house is a mess.  So the dishes didn't do themselves this time either... The world didn't come to an end did it?  We didn't even have anyone knock on the door to catch us in our state of neglect.  Even if someone did I don't think either of us would have the brain power to care.  But we did spend a few precious moments together to rejuvinate ourselves.  To wind down from the crazy day so we can feel alright about going to bed and starting again tomorrow.

Dear Blog,

I have been such a bad blogger.  I fear I may have neglected you.  Please know that it was never my intention.  Not only do I find joy in expressing my hopes, fears, and desires to you, but you are also so good at letting me know what is happening in the lives of so many others.  Others that needed love and support through trying times.  Others that can lift my spirits with their humor and wit.  sigh...

I know it's no excuse, but life simply has caught up with me.  I had such good intentions of improving our communication.  I started out strong this month only to be caught in the torrent of life.  True, it wasn't anything too serious, just long and tiring.  Just last week I took time off to be with my mom while she recovered from a minor surgery.  I really didn't know that it would take me so long to get back into the swing of things.  You would still never know by the state of my house.  But alas, tis neither here nor there. 

I vow to you know, dear blog, to do better.  Even if I don't write, I will check on you.  I will make sure that you are still here, faithfully updating me as ever you are.

Sincerely,

Lora

Do you ever wish for someone else's life?

Today I wish that I were in someone else's shoes.  I wish I had someone else's life besides this one right here, right now.  If I had someone else's shoes then perhaps I wouldn't have the scars on my feet from the awkwardness of my own shoes.  Perhaps I wouldn't have tripped and fallen so many times.  Perhaps there would not be so many set backs.  Or maybe I just need to take a closer look at my own life.  Maybe I'm exactly where I am supposed to be.

Lora Hubbard Sullivan.  That's me.  But for the purposes of this particular work I will be simply Lora Hubbard.  Back to my roots. Pre the crazyiness of this life.  Back to simpler times.

I was born in a small farm in Grace, Idaho.  I was an excellent baby.  My mom said that she could leave me alone for long periods of time and I would entertain myself.  Content.  I didn't cry much and I was a fast learner.  I was walking at 9 months.  My first memory is from my first birthday believe it or not.  I remember very distinctly getting a small piece of maroon polyester cloth with buttons and strings sewed onto it.  I also remember thinking "this is it? are you kidding me?"  I was not impressed.

I am the second of 7 children.  I have one older brother, Jarom,  and we were the best of friends.  We did everything together.  We lived in a white house just down the road from my Aunt Janice's house and not too far from the main farm house where my grandparents lived and my dad worked.  The world was our back yard.  I have many fond memories of that house.  In the upstairs room (on the main floor, there was a main floor and a basement) there was a built-in closet.  Not an ordinary closet, but a kind of cupboard closet.  We had to stand on a stool to climb into it.  It had one half shelf in it and it was big enough for at least two small children to get in and have a ball.  It was where we lived sometimes.  Stuffed animals, blankets, pillows, all stuffed in the closet along with our bodies and imaginations.

Jarom and I shared a room for quite awhile.  At least it seemed like quite awhile.  When more siblings, all in the form of sisters came along then other arrangements were made and I moved downstairs with the girls.  But until then we had the run of the place.  Part of it was our bunk beds.  I was on the bottom bunk, he was on top bunk.  I was always jealous of the top bunk.  The exceptions were tent days. 

Bunk beds have many uses, one of which is the making of the tent.  We tucked blankets under the top mattress to form the sides transforming the dreary bottom bunk into a place of wonder and desirability.  The use of a flashlight made it even better.  Everything was magical in our makeshift tent.  Everything was more fun, even naps.  Though I don't know how much sleep was had but I certainly wasn't opposed to staying in bed. Of course being the younger sibling, I often had to forfeit my magical bed for the once oh-so-coveted top bunk.  For some reason Jarom thought that since it was his idea then he should enjoy the fruits of his labor.  I never saw it that way but being smaller and weaker... I didn't have much choice.

Marathoner, Sprinter, or Walker?

Marathoner:  One who covers great distances in record times.  One who is driven to succeed.  One who is in control of their body enough to push it's limits.  Marathoners keep going even when the going gets tough and they do it quickly.

Sprinter:  Great bursts of energy over short periods of time.  Disciplined to push ahead faster.  Knows the limits of the body and works within the bounds.  When the going gets tough, they exert one last burst of energy because they are done at the end of the lane.

Power-Walker:  Great endurance skills.  Slower than a marathoner or sprinter, but steady.  Able to cover great distances and still talk to people on the way.  Dedicated.  When the going gets tough, they power through, breathe a little harder, but always come out smiling in the end.

Rambler:  Uses small amounts of energy over long periods of time.  Not so steady, not so dependable and slow.  When the going gets tough they stop on the nearby bench to take a rest before finishing up.  Maybe even a light snooze.  Always waits till the last possible minute to get up and start moving again. Usually has to be prodded

Which one am I?

I always envisioned myself as a marathoner, in it for the long hall. "Steady as she goes" so to speak. Covering great distances for the greater good.  Working smoothly, fluidly if you will at a steady fast pace. Breathing in and out, listening to the regular rythm of my heartbeat as my muscles work together carrying my body through life. In control.  Accomplishing great things in record time.

And then reality: I close my eyes and listen my steady heartbeat only to find it beating wildly, sporadically.  I take deep breaths and try to calm down while the natural man screams out "YOU'RE NEVER GOING TO MAKE IT! DOOMED I TELL YOU DOOMED! GIVE UP WHILE YOU STILL HAVE STRENGTH IN YOUR LEGS YOU DUMMY!"  Definitely not a marathoner.

As you may have guessed I'm not really talking about running here.  The course is life, the athletes ourselves.  Where do we fit in?  I have decided that for myself, I fluctuate between the Sprinter and the Rambler, never landing on the Power-Walker.  Especially this week.  I exert great bursts of energy to get through a project and as soon as I cross the finish line my brain turns to mush, my legs give out and I find myself just past the finish line with rubber-chicken muscles unable to stand up.  Out. Of. Breath.  Then the Rambler kicks in and I roll over onto the grass in the sidelines because dang it, I deserve a break!  That is until the next project rears it's ugly head and refuses to be put off any longer.  Sometimes it even has to bite me on the behind to get me going again.  And then I sprint ahead because it's the only way I'll be able to catch up.  Vicious cycle I tell ya!

Why can't I be the Power-Walker?  Slow but steady.  Always dependable, always productive.  Only occasionally out of breath?

Which one are you?

New Do!

First of all, thank you all so much for the advice and attempting sanity. Finally admitting that I actually can't to this all myself has done wonders for my overall well-being. I have taken some of the advice to heart... actually most of it. I was told to do something for myself so my first move was a haircut! I have conveniently attached before and after photos for your viewing pleasure.

Before....

After...

Self portraits are the worst to get! So awkward!

Wondering...

... A List

1. Do you think it's really going to snow anytime soon?
2. Will I ever get the energy up to clean the bathroom?
3. What are we going to have for dinner?
4. Do doctors really know what they are talking about or is it a cruel hoax?
5. How long will my filing pile up before I do it?
6. How does David Letterman come up with ten things for each list?
7. What to get David for Christmas and why that one is so hard.
8. How long the rest of my house will stay clean?
9. Does the Christmas tree need water?
10. How many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie pop?
11. Why are the things you want the most the ones you don't get to have?

Number 11 would be the main cause of my wondering. I hate to go into overkill about things, but all you women out there who have had difficult times becoming moms... what to you do to keep your sanity while waiting for the biological miracle to take place? When the world around you is filled with expectant mothers who can't keep their breakfast down, how do you "cowboy-up" and get through the day to day? It's my sad little cry for help. Any suggestions?

Just wondering.