Musical Thoughts: Dedicated to Grace Idaho Potato Crew of Days Gone By

For better of for worse, we had themes for potato harvest each year.  It was for the high school Harvester Crew which consisted of 3 sometimes 4 girls, our personalities, and a tape deck installed by none other than my dad because he was soooo cool!  Best. Boss. Ever.  (And I really mean that too!)

Don't judge me. I still love this song. I still sing it to my cousin who was on harvester crew with me. We sing it to each other. We know all the lyrics and it's filled with love. I know there were others, but I just don't think they held the place in our hearts like this one.

Just a Little Breeze

I sit outside in the warm Spring sunshine. Listening to the birds in the trees. Feeling the warmth in my toes and on the top of my head. Content.

My thoughts blown about by the slight breeze of the morning. It reminds me of days spent in the mountains. Hiking by myself. I spent a good portion of one summer hiking the trails of Logan Canyon by myself. I wasn’t worried or afraid. I looked forward to the solitude that the canyon offered. I chose trails that I knew well. Trails that weren’t deserted so if I really did need help, I’d only have to sit and wait. Someone would be along.

I always took a book and my journal and a camera. I would find a quiet location and sit and ponder. Everything from the beauty that surrounded me to where I was going with my life. What I had to look forward to, what I needed to change. Mostly I focused on living in that moment. Writing my thoughts down, unedited, as they came. Finding pleasure in writing for the sake of writing. I took those simple moments home with me. Later if I wanted to I could open my journal again and go back to that spot, that moment in time where I was completely at peace. Content.

I don’t usually take the time to think about those days. To sit and let my mind wander where it will. Life is too packed, too busy, too scheduled. But not today. Today I sit in the sunshine and feel the breeze lift my hair and remember what it’s like to be happy. To be content.


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I have decided to dedicate Wednesdays to the Write Words Weekend thought up and crafted by DeNae Handy.  I love her blog "My Real Life Was Backordered" and she's got a writing blog as well.  I want to improve my writing and what better way than having limited topics to choose from.  I may even have to make stuff up to fulfill the assignment.  Overall I think it will help me write outside the box and stretch my skillz... that is if I can find them in time.  Thanks for reading!

Hi Honey, It's 7 o'clock, am I safe? or My Life on Drugs

I write this journal in hopes that someone will benefit from where I have been, that those who follow me may have a road map to guide their footsteps. (sounds of the rainforest in the background, mosquitoes buzzing around, me wiping the sweat off my face and nobly looking towards the future... and the sunset... and the angry natives...)

Friday April 29th:
Am able to proceed with Lupron injections.  Find myself very nervous.  Close to breaking out in a cold sweat but manage to stick myself with the needle.  Is not that bad.  In fact barely felt it. Relieved and a little shaky I go to bed wondering how I'll be in the morning.

Saturday April 30th:
Find myself semi nauseous in the morning.  More sensitive to stupid things.  Strange desire to arm-wrestle my husband into submission for the offense of waking up in the morning.  Have family coming to spend the day.  Sense a pattern developing.  Nightly injection hurt this time. And itched.

Sunday May 1st:
Definite pattern developing.  Am able to see a trend.  No time to write, have to arm-wrestle husband and find something with chocolate in it.  3rd dose didn't hurt.  Is this some kind of joke?

Monday May 2nd:
Feel it necessary to outline pattern for those who may follow in my footsteps or have an urge to visit un-announced.

6-7 am:  wake up and feel a bit nauseous but still okay

7:30 am:  doing okay until husband talks to me then have sudden urge to rip head off

7:31 am: suppress urge, put up a hand, and ask if that question/comment is really necessary

7:32 am: husband backs away slowly with soothing voice and takes question/comment back

8:00 am: husband attempts to go to work, I ignore him till he does

8:30 am: overwhelmed by hunger pangs and eat anything I can find for breakfast (or second breakfast as the case may be)

8:45 am:  day proceeds normally as long as there are no unforeseen interruptions

12:00-3:00 pm: have uncontrollable urge to cry at everything including commercials on the radio, songs that have anything to do with sentimentality or violence or that have words or instruments in them

4:00 pm: doing pretty good.  Waterworks have stopped and smile is on the face

7:00 pm:  nausea returns and irritation at everything comes in full force.  Husband walks on egg shells, sometimes ignoring me for his own safety.  But then again ignoring me causes further irritation and irrational thinking and might not be that safe either

7:30 pm: large dose of chocolate is consumed

7:32 pm:  feeling better but watch your step

9:00 pm:  life is good and rational conversation is possible

9:30 pm: another dose of chocolate for own safety

10:00 pm: take another shot and go to bed

Okay, seriously though.  It's kind of interesting how it follows a pattern, and I'm not really crazy all the time.  But it is a little freaky how out-of-control and irritated that I feel sometimes.  I  know it's the drugs that are causing it but just see if I can do anything about it!  Man may as well put forth his arm to stop the mighty Mississippi from flowing!  It really does follow a schedule though.  So much that when 7 pm approaches I start getting out the chocolate.

I don't think this affects everyone the same way either.  I happen to be uber-sensitive to drugs.  Half the dose of Dayquil does me in.  So birth control and injections... yeah.  Can't wait till they add more!  I'm gonna have to buy chocolate in bulk!

ps. I just realized that I didn't officially say that we're okay to go forward with all of this!  David, who gets uber-brownie points in heaven, did many a phone call between doctors office and insurance and was finally able to get things straightened out.  We found out late Friday afternoon that we could go forward.  So yeah... nothing like a late update!

Monday Photo

I have decided to make a change.  Since I always want to blog on Monday but can't seem to get my act together over the weekend to actually have something up... well.  Tuesday photo has turned into Monday photo.  Try not to let it throw you off. (insert picture of me smirking)

This last week I had to opportunity to do Senior Photos for a person in my ward.  I was really nervous, but David was kind enough to go out with me a few days before and scout out some good areas.  Of course he had to pose for me so that I knew what I was doing.  He's such a ham I love it!

Have you ever sang with the Devil in the hot spotlight?

There is a lady in our ward who works or volunteers with the Utah Festival Opera, here in Logan. She was responsible for getting a few "extras" to do a musical number for a fundraiser event. It would include dinner, a Big Band and a few musical numbers by, among others, Michael Ballam (You might remember him as Satan), who is a big part of the Utah Festival Opera organization. She called me one evening and asked if I would like to be one of these extras.

"You want me???"

"Yup!!!"

"Are you sure???"

"Yup!"

"Let me think about it and I will get back with you."

The number she wanted me to be in was a Sailor for "There is Nothing Like a Dame" from "South Pacific". The whole evening would be themed around the musical since it will be one of the plays that the Utah Festival Opera will be putting on later in the year.

This is something like I have never done before. I have sung in choirs, and even done a few solos, but I have never been in a play, let alone a musical. This was going to be a little acting, kinda. It would involve blocking, movement, costumes. It would involve CHOREOGRAPHY!!! It was going to involve people who were paying $65 a pop to go to this thing, who love Utah Festival Opera shows with real professionals. We were to be the main event! Me? Are you Serious?

So, I mention this to Lora, and after that, there was no way I was going to get out of it. And that was that. At least a couple of the sailor extras were friends from the ward. This was also something that they had never done before.

For your viewing pleasure, I present . . .

The evening was pretty fun. We were able to enjoy the whole Dinner and program for free, and we could bring in a guest for only $25. All three of us made a night of it with our wives, (Since, lets be honest, they were the main motivating factor here).

When we performed, I wasn't very nervous until the minute before we were up. We had practiced only the Thursday before and went through it a couple of times earlier that night. It went well I thought. It didn't seem like anyone messed up too badly. I remembered most of the lines and movements. All in all it went alright. We got a big applause. Lora said we were the best act of the night and it was good for us to be the last number. And I felt good about it up until I saw the video Lora had taken of us.

So, there are things called perceptions. These things, it turns out can be completely out of line with each other and even more so with reality. I don't mean to say that our number was actually bad. I bet most people will think it was pretty good, and it was rightly so that the audience liked us. The video showed me that my perceptions of two things were . . . lets just say, they were off somewhat.

The first is what I look like. I was trim and athletic in high school and stayed that way up until I hit about 30. Looking at the movie, all I could say was, "Wooohhh, hey there fatso!" Now, I know I'm not fat. I'm just heavier than my perception of my self. Even when I look in the mirror, I see more what I used to look like. I think it is pretty funny how we hold on to our youth so much like that.

The other perception that was "adjusted", if not completely shattered, was my abilities as a musical actor. I am not ashamed of my first performance. I think I did alright. I thought the other two from the ward did AWESOME, especially considering this is something we have never done before. I guess what I'm trying to say is that, when I look at the video, I don't see a sailor singing about the virtues of the fairer sex, so to speak. I see a guy who is anxious about messing up and looking at the leader of the group for his cues nearly the entire time.

Oh, and I apologize for mentioned leader's t-shirt riding up a few times. I'm sorry to say it isn't a pretty sight. You may even want to avert your eyes at the end.

Anyway, there you go. Some good blackmail material if you want it. But you may not be able to extort much from me, because I really don't have regrets, and it was a pretty fun night. Besides, not everyone can say they performed while accompanied by Satan.

Becoming

Today I struggle.

I struggle to know what feelings are mine, which are the drugs messing with my hormones, my head, and my heart.  Which feelings are those that I really can handle and which are things that are just beyond me. When is it time to call it a day and sink into a haze of nothingness?

Yesterday I got a phone call from the pharmacy that our IVF cycle drugs are being ordered through.  My first set of injections are scheduled to start this Friday.  I can't say that I'm wholeheartedly looking forward to the actual injections, but I can say that I really am ready to get things going.  To move forward once again.  Not just to put it to rest and say "now we've done all we can do to have a child of our own".  I really do have hope this time.  Solid, real, almost tangible hope. 

The phone call was a courtesy call to make sure that information was correct and to get payment information taken care of.  We are one of the incredibly lucky and blessed people who actually have insurance that will cover IVF procedures with the accompanying medication.  For those of you who know, that is a major thing to have happen.  I don't know of any other insurance that actually covers it.  So I promptly informed the woman on the line that our insurance should cover the $125 for the medicines.  She said that they didn't.  I said that they should and she said they don't and I'm welcome to find another pharmacy to order the medication through and have it there by Friday.

I ended up paying for it because at this point it wasn't worth the hassle.  This particular medication was not the expensive stuff and we would have time to get it all sorted out before the expensive stuff needs to be ordered.

Long story short, it turns out that our insurance is a bit of a mess.  Of the sort that you can call the same number three different times and get three different answers as to what needs to be done in order to get approved for the insurance to actually pay for IVF.  All things that we thought we had done.  All things that we had followed up on.  All things that no one seems to have record of.  That means time.  It also means delays.  It means that unless things get straightened out by tomorrow we probably won't be going forward with IVF this month.  It means another month, maybe two before we really get to start.

Perhaps it's a little extreme, but I'm tired of monthly delays.  I've spent the last 3-4 years living by the month.  Planning by the month.  Being disappointed by the month.  We haven't obsessed about it, and truthfully we've gotten used to letting things go.  It slips into the background quite nicely, still noticeable but not quite as painful as it used to be.

It's just a delay.  It's not that bad. It just seems like there's always another delay.

So here I am.  Today.  Wondering who I am.  Wondering who I am to become.  Wondering what I am to learn from all of this.  Where do I fit.  What is the purpose of all this delay?  What am I missing?  Is this one of the bumps along the path to help wear down a particularly rough spot?  These are all things that I have wondered about before and I dare say I will wonder about it again before this is all said and done.

Tuesday Photo

Oh come on, you knew it had to be Easter related.  Hope you all had a good one.  I have some more pictures to share from it, family related but you'll have to wait for another post.

Change the Third

Today on my way home from the gymn, I saw a group of teenage boys crossing the street by Willow Park.  I took one look and thought "Egads! They still exist!"  Yep, the Skater crowd.

I don't know if that's what they are still called, but they have all the tell-tale signs that made them the Skater crowd when I was in High School.  In fact, I could probably pull out my yearbook and show them their look-a-likes and either really freak them out or confirm their coolness.  The all black clothes scattered with jeans with holes, the skateboards (of course) and let's not forget the attitude.  It was evident in the way they saw me coming in my car, looked me in the eye, and the continued to slowly make their way across the road.  I slowed down so as to give them plenty of time and still had to wonder if they were going to make me stop completely or go around their little group.  It was as if I didn't exist in their world, and in reality I don't. 

And then I got to thinking.  Sometimes that's a very dangerous thing, it can get you worried about your future and the future of your kids.  And then it hit me.  It hit me hard.  I live in Logan Utah!  I have no idea what high school is like here!  I grew up in small town USA where everyone knew everyone so as a teenager I couldn't get into too much trouble without my parents knowledge because everyone knew who my parents were and apparently their phone number as well.

In the world inside my head, my children would go to school and do some of the same things that I did.  Music, drama, failed attempts at drill team and sports in general.  And I would know how to handle it because I had "been there done that".  I would encourage them in whatever course they chose but it's only natural to have my own favorites.  And in that silly stupid head of mine I honestly pictured my children on stage in the Grace Performing Arts auditorium.  Safe.  Secure. 

But today I saw this faction of people that I have not seen in years, literally!  Why?  Because I have been in the working world of a full-time day job at a college with it's very own brand of stupidity.  I run errands in the evening and on weekends.  I forgot that there's a whole culture that exists outside of my little world.  A culture of kids who want to corrupt my children!

Now, for the record, I really have no idea who these kids were that I saw crossing the street.  I just knew who the kids were in my high school.  And I knew exactly what they were up to because I myself spent a brief time in their midst.  I refer to it as my "dark year".  It would have worked too but I didn't have any black sandals and my white ones just didn't look quite right with the black pants and black sleeveless T and black scrunchy.  (It's all about the details you know, I was even in brief possession of a skull ring.)  I know there's more than meets the eye both good and bad.  I also know that if I hadn't been taught the right things by parents, well let's just say my story would have turned out quite a bit different.

So, what is this Change the Third that I am making?  Well, I'm changing my mindset.  Stop living in the past as if my own stupidity is going to come back to haunt me in the form of my children dragging Main street in Soda Springs at 3 am.  Start looking around at the place that I live.  I live.  Here. Logan.  The town that I really do love with neighbors that I really do love.  This is progression.  I live here and my parents don't.  I am experiencing things that my parents never did.  Perhaps it took me so long to get this seemingly obvious epiphany because some of my high school teachers taught my parents and some of my high school literature books had their names in them as well.  But I don't live there do I.  I have a new life with new experiences that really are completely different from my parents.  And I am just fine with that.

On a side note though.  I still want you all to be able to recognize my children at a glance so you can report when they are doing something so incredibly stupid, or wrecking the car, or thing they are going out with some lame-o that just happens to be in the art class you teach... a well placed friendly phone call would be appreciated.  So for your benefit and mine, I have taken the liberty of digitally age-progressing my un-born and as yet un-conceived children so you know who you are looking for.

You're welcome.