The Birthday Shrine

Yeah, that's what Katie calls it. She and Garrett were leaving to go to the store and she says, "So what do you think of my mother's birthday shrine."

Well, what can I say? I guess my sister and brother-in-law said it best. On the card that came with the tulips (see shrine photo above): "Happy 19th annual 29th birthday."

Now, here is where it gets really interesting. Anyone that knows me would know that tulips are my favorite flower. But... only those that really know me would know that lilies are my second favorite flower and cyclamen come in third. And just guess what I got for my birthday??? Besides the tulips, apparently one of my dearest friends knows me best. After having received tulips and lilies, my day appeared complete. But, when Tanya showed up for the dessert bar (more on that in a minute), she brought cyclamen with her!!! Could it get any better?

No birthday cake for me. Instead we had a dessert bar. All efficiently prepared by someone else: Caramel Apple Empanadas from Taco Bell, Pumpkin Chocolate Chip bread from Great Harvest, a Chocolate Mousse Cake slice from Dalton's, hot from the microwave Chocolate Pudding (made by the Captain), and oh... well, I guess I did make the Oatmeal Cookies the day before that we served up as well. (Thanks Grandma... best oatmeal cookie recipe EVER!) The Captain and I got creative and improvised a Chocolate Pudding Cake thing by taking a bit of the cake, and pouring some of that hot pudding over the top of it. (Okay, I confess... I also scooped some vanilla ice cream on mine. Yeah, well, it was my birthday!)

And guess what I got as a "day after my birthday" present???


Yep, a visit with Mae. Isn't she just the cutest thing? I about can't stand it. Lawsy, lawsy... what a little face!

Bragging Rights

So... Jon is having himself quite a senior year in high school. He won the Sterling Scholar award for Business & Marketing for his high school. His chapter of DECCA (a business law and ethics association) won the state championship three weeks ago. He and his partner, Mike Kaplan, placed first in their region and sixth at state for the two-person competition. He is currently up in Layton at the state championship for the HOSA club competitions. He has one more state competition coming up. This one for FBLA (Future Business Leaders of America). I don't know exactly when it is or what the competition is about, but I guess I'll find out soon enough.

He has been awarded a New Century Scholarship by the state of Utah for completing his Associate's degree while still in high school. It awards him various scholarships depending on the school he chooses to attend. He decided to accept the two year 3/4 scholarship from University of Utah, so that's where he's going to go to finish his undergraduate degree. The Sterling Scholar award is 1/2 tuition so the combination of the two scholarships gives him full tuition and books plus a 1/4 scholarship amount in stipend cash to use toward living expenses.

Last but not least, prom is in about three weeks.

Whew!! Busy, busy, busy.

What's In A Name

Happy St. Patrick's Day!!! Do you all have your leprechaun name yet? Go to this website and get it! http://www.capstrat.com/go/lucky/

Here is our Leprechaun family:

The Captain - Grumpy Spanky O'Sunshine
Moi - Notbig Fonder O'Pourtunity
Rob - Grumpy Spanky O'Pourtunity
Brett - Lil Spanky O'Houligan
Juliann - Weebit Puddin'head O'Luckycharms
Mae - Runty Molly O'Houligan
Josh - Weebit Fonder O'Luckycharms
Katie - Lil Molly O'Oh
Spencer - Grizzled Padraic O'Sourpuss
Jon - Weebit Puddin'Head O'Houligan

My Boys are in Sin City

Lee. Jonathan, Chris, Jackson, Jimmer... and the rest of them. Yep! My. Boys. The Mountain West tournament is going on right now. I'm happily watching TV: BYU vs. Air Force. Go Cougs!

Since 2003, I have found myself happily munching on hot dogs and knocking back caffeine-free soft drinks in the Marriott Center for almost every home game. I absolutely love it when each game starts. Up on the big screen this year, Lee Cummard is announcing "It's time" and then shutting off the arena lights. The crowd sees Jonathan Tavernari with blue flames on his hands. Jimmer Fredette doin' some sort of primal scream. I. Love. It. It makes me sit in my seat and smile -- Big. The whole place full of people. The student section standing throughout the whole game. (Not me. I'm sitting, thank you very much. That's the benefit of being one of the 'old folks' in the crowd.) I love it when they shout out "left, right, left, right" as any opponent player walks to the bench after fouling out. I love the stress and tension of a close game. I love open jumpers for three. I love Cosmo -- he can do about anything and I smile. I like it when the cheerleaders do back flips after every made free throw. However, not to darken the mood, but... I have to confess...(may all my sisters-in-law forgive me)... I do NOT love it when the Cougarettes dance. What the heck is that? It's a flippin' athletic event, people. Why do we have to have vignettes of a dance recital (complete with costumes) throughout the game? Okay, I guess I get it if they are part of the half-time entertainment, but really? Really? During timeouts? Five to six times a game? I have NEVER understood this.

A few times since 2003, during half-time or before a game, some elderly woman will come out on the floor... a different one each time. The announcer will say something like "sweet 'Mabel Ladene Sondersen' (name fictionalized) has been a faithful Cougar fan attending all home games for the past twenty years by herself and for forty years prior to that she came with her late husband Lavar LaRon Sondersen." The announcer will tell of the numerous afghans she has crocheted for the families of freshmen players, the blue and white curtains in her fruit room and her Utah State Fair award-winning "Cougar Blue"-berry Pie. I secretly want to be that woman. Okay, it's not like I want to change my name or wish death on my spouse. Nor do I have any plans to start crocheting. But if watching BYU games is always going to feel as exhilarating as it does now, I'd have to seriously think twice before I moved away from here for my retirement years.

There's something else about BYU games that I love. It has nothing to do with the players (at least not directly) and everything to do with Benjy. I have known Benjy since he was very little. His dad, Glen, was my bishop when I was in Primary. Later, when I decided to clean up my act and go on a mission, Glen was the stake president who walked me through the process... lovingly. He was the stake president that welcomed me home. And... many years later, he was the sealer that married The Captain and me. I've spent time in conversations with Glen's wife, Kaye. Glen and Kaye were lifelong friends of my parents. Their daughter, Jami and her husband Steve are friends of mine. Benjy is Glen and Kaye's youngest son. He's likely in his mid-to-late thirties now. He lives with his parents. He has Down's Syndrome.

Benjy and his dad have season tickets to the BYU basketball games, too. The Captain and I have sat one section away from them for the past three years. There is nothing like watching Benjy stand, cheer and dance while he sings the Cougar Fight Song -- borrowing moves from both the cheerleaders and the Cougarettes. And yes, he knows every word. He stands and celebrates every time the band plays. His hips are twisting and bouncing. His arms are flailing with his own precision movements. His face is rapturous. It's such a full-soul expression of glee and joy. I watch him two or three times a game. I always smile. Sometimes The Captain will nudge me and point over in Benjy's direction. Sometimes my eyes tear up. Sometimes the Captain's do. I also watch the people around Benjy. You see, I feel a bit protective of him, given my history with his family. The seats behind him generally have different faces in them game to game. Sometimes they laugh a bit while Benjy dances. But, the seats in the row in front of him are filled with other "seasoned" ticket holders. Seasoned as in having sat in the same seats for a few years, and seasoned as in a generation or two ahead of college freshmen. They know Benjy and Glen. After every Fight Song, the four of them reach back and Benjy gives each of them a high-five.

There's something about watching BYU basketball. Being there to see it, to experience it. Not everyone "gets" it. Benjy does, though. He's better at conveying what it feels like than I am.

The Funniest Things Trigger Memories

So, I was a little bored with the background on my blog. I went to CutestBlogOnTheBlock and chose a different one. (Yes, I'm aware it's still green. Green happens to be my favorite color. I tried selecting something else. I'm all for "branching out," "expanding my interests" yada, yada, yada. I tried. Believe me, I did. I tried blues; I tried reds. Sorry, they just didn't "speak to me" like greens do. But hey, at least I chose a different shade of green.) So, I logged on today and looked at my blog. I saw the green edges that look like they are painted cement blocks. And... they reminded me of something. Something from long ago and far away.

My family had recently moved to Tucson, Arizona so my dad could attend graduate school at U of A. We went to church in a big chapel that was painted green... the green that is the color of the background of my blog. On the inside of the church as well. And the chapel section had cinderblock-type walls... green ones. Wow. It's amazing I remembered that.

Just seeing the background of my blog I can now see almost two years of my life stored away in my memory for so long. We live in a two-story townhouse kind of place. The bedrooms are upstairs. It's small. But... there is a pool right out our sliding glass door. It's Arizona, for heaven's sake. There better be a pool. (More on the pool later.)

I went to first and second grade at Julia Keen Elementary School. Some big red-headed thug of a boy had a crush on me. He'd chase me around the playground. It used to really tick me off because, c'mon, ... buddy... you're just not doin' it for me. You're a big red-headed thug of a boy. Personally, I'm not into thugs... they don't set my heart a flutterin' like they do for some girls. And, well, sorry, but, redheaded boys are simply NOT ATTRACTIVE. Didn't think so then. Haven't thought so since. (Well, except for one time years later in San Diego. John Pomeroy (rest his soul). He was hot. He was also my sister's boyfriend so, yeah, never went there in my mind either.)

Oops. I appear to have veered onto the San Diego exit in my recollections. Apparently I need a mental GPS while navigating memories in my mind to keep me from attempting a whole-life road trip down Memory Lane in one sitting.

So, Arizona. Hot. Saguaro National Park. Gila monsters. More hot. Babysitter would take my sister and me there while my mom was at work and my dad was at school. My mom worked at a Bee laboratory. Yes, bees. As in buzzing and honey. They study bees. Whatever. My mom was amazing. She worked full-time, but we still had dinner on the table every night. I did homework. I had chores. In retrospect, I can see that she was very present despite not literally being there the majority of the hours from Monday to Friday. Looking through the lens of memory, I don't have a sense of angst about her not being home.

Christmas. Very different from Utah Christmases. Did I mention hot? My sister and I got matching stingray bicycles. Girly bikes with shimmery plastic tassels hanging off of the ends of the handlebars. I got my first long-play album. (Elvis Presley's Greatest Hits... if you wanted to know.) I'd sing along to Jailhouse Rock and Hound Dog like I was a rockstar. Heck, as far as I was concerned, I was a rockstar. (My poor family. How did they stand it? My poor sister. She probably had to endure the worst of it.)

Back then, each congregation at church had an assigned "budget" contribution that needed to be met each year. Our congregation had a deal with Hertz Rent-A-Car. The adults would drive their rental cars from Tucson to Phoenix... dropping off one kind of car and picking up another. Whatever Hertz paid for the service went to the ward budget fund. My parents participated in that. So some Saturdays, they would be gone for hours as they would take their turn driving cars to Phoenix. I admit, my mind at the time didn't really grasp the idea. "So, you're getting in a rental car to drive to another city, to get into a different rental car and drive home? And the car company pays you to do this?" It seemed kinda like herding cats to me, but back then, I supposed there were lots of things adults did that didn't make sense to kids but made sense in the adult world. I figured this was one of those things.

My dad had a motorcycle. I was afraid to ride on it. It made me nervous. One day, I didn't want to be at school so I concocted a great idea. I'd throw up. So I ran to the bathroom from my front-row seat, holding my hand over my mouth. Stayed in the bathroom a bit. Splashed water on my face. Flushed the toilet and came out with my very best "I am at death's door but somehow I'll muddle through" expression. Move over, Meryl Streep. (Okay, so I'm a rockstar and an actress. What's your beef?) Worked like a charm. Minutes later, I was in the front office and my "parent" was coming to get me. Silly me. Employees don't leave work to get sick children if their spouse is home studying. So, it was Dad that showed up to bring me home. He was not happy. I'm thinking it's a good bet had he been a member of the Screen Actors Guild voting committee, Meryl's place as reigning diva of living actresses would not be in any jeopardy. He saw through it all.

One of the things that made my father effective as a parent was he was very good at applying natural consequence as punishment. The punishment fit the crime, so to speak. (Tangent: "So to Speak" - one of my dad's most-used phrases. End tangent.) So... can anyone guess the mode of transportation used to take me home that day? Yep, I walked out into the parking lot, saw the motorcycle and then really did need a bathroom. I was instructed to climb onto that scary, life-threatening, loud awful thing I was terrified of and hold on. I effectively pulled off a fake throwing up stunt just to have to worry about the very real possibility of peeing my pants all the way home. "Lord, spare my life and I promise I will never fake throwing up again."

I lived to tell the tale.

The green cinder-block walls of the church we attended every Sunday in Tucson, Arizona. Me. My sister. My mom. My dad. Forty-one years ago. Memories. While we're making them, I don't think we understand that's what we're creating. But all these years later, we're glad we have them.

"Oh, and Lord, thank you for sparing my life on the ride home all those years ago. I have kept my end of the bargain. Since that day, I have never faked throwing up again. So... well... I have another request all these years later. From now until it comes my time to exit this life, I'd like to still have access to my memories. I'm very thankful for the gene pool I was sent to swim in. I love all the fellow swimmers you sent me to. But, we both know..., the memory thing... well, there's something in the water of this particular pool... and well, I'd really like to keep my memories until the end. They give me great pleasure and comfort now and I believe future ones will as well. So, that's my request. I'm working to make future memories honorable. That's what I can offer on my end. If it's something You feel You can grant, I'd be extremely grateful. At the same time, I want You to know..., 'but if not'... my convictions won't change. You know best."

Nothin' Better To Do...

... I guess I'm still in escape mode. I spent the morning yesterday doing this. Okay... I realize I've been going overboard with simple food entries. Maybe I should set up a separate blog that is all about baking and such. But... I had myself quite a morning. Haven't really tried this sort of stuff before.



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