Jef with one F

It's official.
I am not made for T.V.
For some reason, the opportunity comes up now and then - and as much as I wish I could say it felt comfortable, natural even....it just doesn't.  I'm not nervous with the people I am talking to, I just clam up - well, like a clam.  My mouth get's dry, I sweat, my eyes get big, and my sentences don't make sense.

I was asked to do a quick segment about how to make home made confetti, which I had prepared for the photo booth at the blog party last night.  (which was a raging success by the way).  It took me around five hours, lots of tissue paper, and a numb thumb - but in the end, it was worth it.  I decided as I was punching out the confetti, that it was a lot like motherhood - it takes a lot of patience, and persistence, but in the end it is worth it.

I tried to say that to the camera, and I felt like I was on an infomercial...

My inner self was watching me from the other side of the T.V. screen, pointing and rip roaring - laughing at my pathetic attempt to be another Katie Couric.  Oprah, my house goes off to you.  I think if I had lots of practice, I could become comfortable ...  maybe.

Long story short, it should be shown on the news in the next week or so.  I should be at the cabin, so I can hide behind the lodge pole pine trees in Wyoming, as you watch and laugh.  Watch for my self done, gel nail that chipped off when I was getting the drinks ready at the event, watch for my stained clevage from the purple confetti that fell down my dress (hopefully you can't see that part).

In the end, it was worth the humiliation.  I met lots of fun bloggers, and business owners.  There were so many creative people there, and it was fun to get to know other people that share my love for writing and sharing.  The prizes were darling, Soel boutique was beautiful, the food was magazine perfect, and the sun shone bright.  If I get up some guts, I'll share the link of the news clip when it is released, so you can see :)

Until then, I have some inclination to begin speaking classes, because I have a feeling at some point I need to be more comfortable speaking in front of cameras and people.  United Way let me know that they are planning on putting my face on their bus that drives around and around town, and take me to help get donations from businesses - and quite frankly, I need to know how to look someone in the face, and not get a dry mouth and shake.  Although, I am leaps and bounds more comfortable when I don't have a speaker attached to me and a camera in my face.  (remember the united way video they shot of me?)

Here is a link to Jane, my new friend that threw the party with some pretty great friends of hers. She posted some pictures of the event, if you want to take a glance.  She also has a really successful life style blog, that features crafts she makes - home design - clothing - and lots of other fun stuff! 


Have a great summer day!
I wish I could have more of you.  I know a lot of my readers are spread out all over the world, so it's hard to meet you in real life, but  a girl can dream - right?  I'll post more photo's of the amazing event soon!

ps. Guess who I met?

Jef, with one F - From the Bachelor

Just a Reminder...

Just a quick reminder today about the party tonight! We have amazing sponsors, and there will be door prizes to the first 50 people that show up!

I've seen some of the treats to eat, and the fun people coming, and believe me - you don't want to miss it. I'd love to say hi! I'll be the one with a sunburn on one shoulder, from boating Saturday.

The dress is fun and colorful, whatever that means to you. So grab your girlfriends, come win some super cute prizes, and get your pictures taken in the photo booth, that I've been cutting custom confetti for, for so long, my thumb is numb.

Xo
See you soon
Janae

Best, Funniest, and Worst.

It's a typical Sunday lunch at Pink Moss.
We all walk in from church, starving.  Paper plates are being chucked on the table.  Someone is carving their name into theirs with their plastic fork that makes a hideous, eye squeezing sound.
A cup of water spills.  Dishes are being unloaded and the floor swept, as dinner, thanks to Mrs. Stouffers, is being served.  A bowl of green beans here, a salad there, and some corn over there.

Usually not all of the members of the clan actually make it to the eating part.  One by one, they fall by the way side, because they are fighting and sent to their room.  Funny how it is shocking to them, every time.  The people that decide they can't make it to the bathroom to fart or burp, have to sit on the stairs for fifteen minutes - while the rest of us get to eat our whole piece of defrosted frozen lasagna, in peace.

It's customary to review the day with each other.  It's called our "best, funniest, or worst".  We take turns sharing stories with each other.  Over the years, we have come out with some really great experiences, that I believe would be otherwise somewhere in the past, forgotten forever.  If it's an especially good share, it makes it into our dinner book.  Yes, I pull out a pen and journal that is kept right there in the kitchen, and write it down.

Best, funniest, and worst table conversations, happen every night we are good enough to sit everyone down at the same time.  Sunday's take a bit longer, because we share what each of us learned at church that day, assuming we must have learned something - somehow - even if it was that "so and so never listens" or "Brother so and so looks like 'this' kind of animal".

 This is how today's talk went.

Halle: Mama, we talked about Jesus, and sheep - ya sheep - and I think some of the sheep were
*she's cut off, and glares at everyone at the table* ya well, the sheep, I think for some reason they might have been lost, and they needed to look *again, someone interrupts* she stops and stars down everyone, with that death stare all my kids get when they are interrupted, which is an uncountable number of times every. single. day.

This goes on and on, for longer than I'd like to admit, so I change the subject.

Janae: Halle, did you have fun in your class today?

Halle: Yes, I liked my class because we got to go outside, and look for a sheep.  Just the puzzle kind you know, but it was so fun.

Janae: Good!  That is so great you got to go outside, I'm jealous.

Halle: But mama, why do you keep taking me to the wrong Sunday school classroom, EVERY time since January? They have to take me somewhere else when you leave.





Janae: You are saying, I'm taking you to the wrong class?  Why don't they tell me when they see me, and smile as you walk in - without saying anything?

Halle: Well, I think my teachers aren't a little bit confused, I think you are.

Janae: Silence



That will teach me to be so helpful, and walk her to class every day.

A Few of My Favorite Things...

I thought today, it would be fun to share some of my favorite things.
Over the years, you pick up this or that and add it to your "must have" things in your home.  So, I thought I would spill the beans!  I am sure I will add to this list/label as time goes on, but let's get started today.

In no particular order...

Here at Pink Moss, we LOVE....

Victoria's Secret Love Spell.
I am not kidding you, when ever I wear this stuff, people ask me what smells good.  Men, women, children, even babies snuggle up closer.  It almost has a candy smell to it, which isn't my normal cup of tea, but whatever it is...it's intoxicating.  I can walk into a room full of people, and sniff out if someone is wearing this stuff.  And, I don't know about you but, keeping about little bit of spell in my purse can only be a good thing.

Move into the make up section of things, and the first thing that comes to mind, is my
bobbi brown blush in {peony}

 I buy a lot of cheap makeup, but there are some things I will go back for and spend a little bit more.  This is one of those.  It is the perfect color, for me anyway.  When I bought it the first time, I remember the make up artist saying that it was a great color for everyone, although I can't personally  promise that.

Next on my list?
My Boar Hair Brush

I'm sure this will sound like a duh.... to many of you, but really I have had a brush like this in my bathroom now for about 19 years!  It is the perfect brush to get height on the crown of your head, and smooth out the cuticle for nice soft hair.  It takes a lot of practice, getting used to rolling your wrist - but it is worth it.  Make sure the hair is almost dry (finger dried) before you start trying to round brush your hair, or it will take f.o.r.e.v.e.r. I would bet there are tutorials on youtube, if you want t visual - because heaven knows I don't have time to record one for you, right now anyway.

hmmm number four...
One of the more current, and trendy things you will find in my home is lots of
colorful fingernail polish.  My girls mix and match, many colors and follow lots of fun ideas on pinterest.

and lastly...
Bath and Body Works Hand Soap

Once again, I am starting off with my very basic loves that I feel like everyone already uses (maybe not?) but I had to share.  Bath and Body works has a million fragrances for lotions and soaps.  And, for great prices!  I always go when they have a great sale *like 5 for 10$ or something* and stock up for months.  Every bathroom you go into in our home, it's like taking a trip somewhere when you wash your hands.  They kids love to use it because it smells so good, and I can always check if they have just by smelling them!

Have a great weekend!
Do you have any favorites you want to share with me?
Remember, I am helping host a party this coming Tuesday - and you are invited!! Come on by and say hi!

She Walked in the Door

She walked in the door
just as I always remember, with her laughter proceeding her.  A strong woman, full of passion, devotion, love, determination, and silent strength.  Her smile is contagious, and her eyes sparkle.
Time has shaped her into the soul she is now, a piece of coal, transformed from years of pressure into a diamond. 

I remember as a child, forcing sleep upon myself, as she and my parents belly laughed from the floor above my head.  The smell of popcorn perfection wafted through the air,  teasingly tickling my nose; a buttery reminder that we were not yet parents, and as such, we could not stay up late and party.
I stared up at the ceiling in the dark, and complained with my cousins that, "life just wasn't fair".

As I think back to those days, I remember my mind being full of wonder for my future.  Who would I marry?  Where would I live?  How many kids would I have?  I played M.A.S.H. with my friends, just to tease fate.  Of course, I would live in a mansion, have 4 kids, a red Porsche, and my husband would be a doctor - that's how the game worked, right?  I never thought for a minute, that my Aunt Barbara's life, was just as open to change, as my own.

She was one of few people back in the 70's in Utah, that dated and married a man that was a different race than her own.  I can only imagine her journey.  I have heard parts - someday maybe she will tell all of her own story, but not yet.  I am sure she felt alone, in a culture and time that wasn't used to change.

I never knew the difference.  The only way I remember being affected, was when we went boating in the summer time.  My cousin's skin was much darker than my own, even my other cousin that wasn't mixed ethnicity, was nearly the same color as the ones that were.  I looked down at my scrawny legs, and I felt white.  Very white.  And I was.  I was blessed with Irish skin, porcelain in color - definitely not the popular, very tanned skin of the 80's.

My Uncle Ethan, Barbara's husband, was one of my favorite people on the planet.  He was a giant of a man, in a spirit kind of way - full of faith.  Every time I saw him he would say, "What's up J.J.?!"
I can hear it echoing in my head, even 30 years later, as I allow myself to travel back in time.  He was full of life, and so fun to be around.  I remember funny things about him, like his masterful eye roll, when he thought something was crazy - or his girls were being dramatic.  I remember his strut, not proud - but with a confident spring in his step.  I remember the way he accepted everyone, without judgement.  I remember the way he laughed with my dad, at some unheard, whispered joke.  I remember playing basketball with him, he was "The Lakers" and we were the "Utah Jazz".  I remember him on horses, and pulling him behind our gutless, pea green, boat for an eternity as we tried to get his strong, muscled body out of the water on a slalom ski.  I remember his mnm's, stashed away in his sock drawer.  I remember his comb, stuck in his Afro and back pocket when he was done combing, as we walked through the swap meets in California.  I remember his hugs, and dancing brown eyes when he thought something was funny...and that way he shook his head, when he was speechless.

I remember when he started getting sick

Nobody wanted to talk about it, or acknowledge that something may be wrong when his wrist hurt.  I remember pretending all was well, along with everyone else.  I remember seeing fear in my cousin's eyes, as they watched him slowly deteriorate for fifteen years.  I remember my dad helping him find humor, even during his pain.

One time he and my dad were in a check out line at the store, and my dad spoke up for my Uncle Ethan, that could no longer speak, because Lou Gehrig's had taken away almost all of his muscle control at this point.  "Mam?" my dad said with that smirk. "Yes sir?" "My friend here, wanted to tell you that he thinks you are a good looking lady." "(blush) Why thank you!"

all the while, Uncle Ethan's eyes darted back and forth between my dad and the innocent lady, full of shock and horror.  Yes, my dad can find humor in almost any circumstance, and I know Ethan appreciated that.  They were long time friends.  My dad is not a judgmental kind of man, so when a "black man" waltzed right into our family, and some (namely my grandparents) were freaking out, my dad saw no reason for it.  He embraced him as the new brother in law, that he was.  As such, I grew up color blind.  I remember feeling sick, as I matured under the realization that this wasn't how everyone was raised.

The lessons that Ethan taught us all, were invaluable.  I miss him.  I know my Mandy misses him.
I know his other kids, and grand kids miss him.  And of course, my Aunt Barbara misses him.  This was a twist in her story, she did not foresee.  But you know, life is a funny thing.  It kicks us around, sometimes right in the gut, and takes our breath away for days, weeks, months, or even years...but somehow we carry on.  We don't miss our loved one less, we just find a way to keep going.  I don't want to pretend to understand this fully, or at all, as I haven't been there myself.  But, I do respect the people I know that lost their spouse.

She still waltzed into my home laughing tonight, and toting her grandson along for her trip to Utah.  She isn't giving up, in fact she is setting more goals.  She is recently retired from teaching for twenty years, and ready to begin taking pictures, and painting, and traveling when she can.  She even encouraged me to keep writing, and said she enjoyed reading my words.  Being that I respect her, and her opinion, this was very humbling for me.  I can only hope to develop my writing to the point where I can help other people tell their stories.  Maybe someday, she will tell it all - or at least I can help her tell it all.  She has an amazing story, just waiting to be told, but timing is everything.

Until then, I have the honor of keeping Ethan junior in my home for the next several days.  I have no doubt that he is being watched over, by one that loves him above.  I would even go as far to say that he must be getting a major kick out of watching "J.J." and her many daughters, laugh with his grandson.  You see, family is what matters.  It's what is eternal, and meaningful always.  And whether he is here on earth, or standing by unseen, it is the same.

Thank you Uncle Ethan, for teaching me many valuable lessons of acceptance, love, and patience.
Thank you Aunt Barbara, for being an example or resiliency, devotion, and patience.
and Thank you God, for giving me so many great people in my life to learn from.

 

My mom, Aunt Jan, and Aunt Barbara

Utah Blogger's Mingle

Guess WHAT!

I am so excited to finally spill the beans, and let you in on a little secret.  I am helping with, and sponsoring {with many other super fun people}, a blogging event next week!  Hear that?!  

NEXT WEEK.  

AND YOU are invited!  

SEE?!

AND 

these are the awesome sponsors!

So, all of you people out there that read pink moss, and see me around town, but feel weird or stocky-ish saying hi.....?  This is your chance to come meet me :)  I would LOVE to speak face to face and get to know you in real life.  

If you are my family or friends and are reading this, and you haven't been able to catch up with me this summer - I would love to see YOU there!  There will be treats, and I am sponsoring a photobooth for some great pictures.  My stats for Pink Moss say that there are hundreds of Utah Women reading my blog EVERY day...

Plain and simple

I would love to meet you.

Even if you know me in real life, and I don't know you read my blog

it would be a great surprise for me to see you there and find out!

So.

Pencil.

It.

In.

Also, there will be REALLY FUN GIVEAWAYS!

Just check out the sponsors...

soel | see jane blog | milkglass and honey | armelle | gatehouse no.1 | fifth and hazel | freshly picked | cotton & curls | modern palm | {collected} | sycamore street press | Gygi | mer mag | the Alison show | Ashley Thalman Photography | Justin Hackworth Photography | Third Floor Design Studio | Pink Moss | I Still Love You | Pepper Lou | One More Mushroom | Fleur de Bee | Diamond Rental | Square Native | Cactus and Tropicals | Sunriver Gardens | Kaboo | Zupas | Heirloom Restaurant Group | Sweet Tooth Fairy  | Cafe Rio

Here are some pictures from the first even they had in February.  I wasn't able to make it, but I am next week!

So, 

come one

come all

Let me give you a hug, and tell you thanks for supporting my blog (and random thoughts)!

Just think...

Next week!

This Little Boy of Mine...

Yesterday was long.  I woke up, rushed Brighton to soccer - but today we were to hike Stuart Falls, by Sundance Utah, with the soccer team.  Brighton was able to make it on Celtic Storm, because the goalie that was going to be on the team decided to go to another, closer to her house.  We jumped in the cars, and made our way up the canyon.

The girls were excited, and I was thrilled to be in my home - the mountains.  Brighton's soccer coach, Devin, was there with three of his roommates, and one other dad.  We made it up that incline, in no time.  The only thing that slowed them down were the snakes, caterpillars, wild turkeys, and spiders.

 

When we were done, we made it down off the mountain and ate our lunch.  

After, the kids and I had lunch under a tree at the park.  Then, the kids decided to play soccer (with the adults), which was hilarious, because I have never played other than for a junior high gym class once or twice, 25 years ago.  

For some reason, they kept yelling "red card"!  How was I supposed to know that I wasn't allowed to  pick them up, and then try to kick the soccer ball?!

*************

My life has been pretty great these past few weeks.

{stressful and great}

I try to focus on the latter.

Mandy, came down to visit and be with us as Handsome was sealed to us in the L.D.S. temple.  

 And, whenever Mandy is here with me - I am happy.  We have been partying it up every day, and started her vacation with a little dancing at Tucanos, a fabulous Bazillion grill, for Brighton's and her birthday.  Brighton is now officially 11 years old, and most definitely looking and acting the part.

and later that day, we went to dinner at the Melting Pot with our friends Spencer and Melinda Lindahl, who were luckily in town and were able to make it to the temple with us the next day.  We hadn't seen them in years.  Time flies, especially the last few years for us.  

It was so fun to catch up, and laugh - just like the good ol' days.

and of course, we laughed the whole time - especially as Spencer teased Mandy, and got in her face like he used to do on a regular basis.

We had a picture all together, but it was on Melinda's camera. 

Being with them made me realize how much I miss them.  All three of them are great friends that live far away.  At least we get to meet up every once in a while.

After all, it takes a long time to grow and old friend.

 

This little boy of mine

We have a routine in our home at bedtime.

Teeth are brushed. Pajamas on. Jump in bed. Collect Handsome's two favorite cars, two books, and kiss him on the cheek.

Then he says,

"Love you, goodnight."

and I say

"Love you, goodnight."

and I go to my room as he falls asleep.

Usually when we turn off the light, and find him sleeping in a sea of books, and toys- we don't find this.

Last night, Kinley did.

Utah Valley Half Marathon

Being that I was the oldest sister, and I had three brothers before my youngest sister came along - I learned to hang out with boys at a young age.  Sure, we fought, like any normal kids do.  We chased each other around, we (I) scratched, hit, and did anything to bug each other when we were mad.  Especially my brother Dave and I, who was the closest to me in age.

I remember going to my dad one day, all huffed up and all sorts of mad at Dave, saying, "I just can't stand to be around him!  He follows me, he teases me, he hurts me....can't we give him back?!"  My dad just grinned that all knowing father-ish kind of grin, and said

"Someday, you will become the best of Friends."

It was a simple answer, almost too simple - and I truly remember for the first time, realizing that my parents DIDN'T really know everything, as I once had hoped, and thought.  I was let down, because of his apparent ignorance.  I felt my world shift, and placed less credibility and hope in the answers I received from him.

Fast forward to my half marathon last Saturday.

 I wouldn't have rather ran this race with anyone else.  Dave started running the first of this year.  Dave not only had the usual barriers he was up against in beginning to run, such as soreness, fatigue, laziness, and feeling out of breath.  He is also a type one diabetic.  For those of you that know what this means, you may appreciate the struggles he faced.  For those of you that don't fully understand his struggles - this means that he has been taking several shots, every day for the past 25 years or so.  He has to test his blood sugar many times a day, to ensure his safety and health.  And implementing a exercise regimen, is extremely hard.  He called his training sessions for this run, his "lemonade workouts", because he would have to time his run at night perfectly, so his blood sugar was right, start running - and then as his blood sugar dropped, he would drink lemonade to pick it back up.  Sometimes once, sometimes never, and other times more than once. 

It sure puts exercise in my {be more grateful} box.

We started out going to bed too late the night before.  Dave and Emmy brought their kids down to sleep at our house the night before, so their travel time was less the morning of.  We ate dinner, and went to pick up our race numbers.  We also made a stop to Cold Stone (which was most assuredly a mistake), and then came home to go over our play lists for the run.  We had fun watching/laughing Uncle Dave dance to his favorite Mylee Cyrus song, and sharing music with each other we needed for the run. 

We finally made it to bed about 12:00, and had to wake up at 2:45 am.  I was exhausted, but so excited.  I laid out my clothes, and said a prayer!

We drove down to the buses at the mall, and were shuttled up the canyon by deer creek dam.  There were fires everywhere for people to stay warm, and we just sat down on the hills in the pitch black, and listened to the music and watched the sun rise as the start time approached. 

Two of my all time favorite people, Maria and Dave.

You can see I am taking nervous energy out on my phone!

At this point, I had to put the phone away, and RUN!!

The amazing thing was, that he seriously ran circles around me.  He was more prepared than I was, because he has been running a lot longer.  We were together when we started the run, and it didn't take long to realize that he was pulling away from me.  I could tell he would hold off, as Maria and I caught up and we would run for a bit together until I fell behind again.  Maria also trained longer than I did, and once actually pushed on my back as we ran up the only hill on the course.  I couldn't feel more blessed.  Both of these running partners came out of nowhere, and although we couldn't train every day together, we encouraged each other to keep working. I have to remind myself, that I have been recovering from a year of health issues.  I have literally come back from the dead in many ways.  Dave has lost around 30 pounds, running and eating right!  He looks great, and I couldn't be more proud of him.

As we came into the home stretch, I realized how much the people standing along the sidelines meant.  I didn't know them, but their cheers pushed my feet along their way.  Kids were cheering for their parents, family was cheering for friends - and it was powerful.  I started to get choked up, and quickly decided it was a bad idea because I began wheezing.  The last 3 miles of a 13 mile run, is not the time to cry.  I passed an old man with a shirt that says "if you find me laying on the side of the road, pull me across the finish line." and I laughed.  I decided I was highly to emotional for a race.  I couldn't help but giggle at all the different ways people ran.  Some shuffled, others swayed back and forth, some were so fast I didn't see them, and every body was different.  Big, small, short, fat, tiny tall, and THEY ALL DID IT.  We were all overcoming our own personal struggles.  We all came to win within ourselves.  and. we. did. 

I walked away that day with a metal, some very sore ankles and muscles, and a few rashes in unmentionable areas - but along with that came a new appreciation for good friends, my healthy body, a feeling of accomplishment, and a big smile when I finished and saw Kinley and Whitney.  My kids watched me fight - and win.  Emmy supported Dave every night as he trains, during a hard time of the day, but the only time his blood sugar will let him.  This is her metal as well. 

We came home, and I fell asleep talking to Dave, Emmy, and Jon. I was pretty tired.  Our kids played out back for a while, loving being with cousins.

I slept all day, and Jon watched the kids.  I barely remember Dave calling me at some point later that night saying  "Janae, there is another half marathon in July!  Are you up for it?!"

My dad text me after the race, attaching this picture with a short note that said

"Someday you will become the best of friends".

 And he was right.

again.

From Couch to Half Marathon

I know I haven't written a lot about my health and exercise lately, so I thought an update was in order.  I've had some people write me and ask, because either they are dealing with the same issues I have been or they are just curious.

I hoped originally, I would be able to lead us all to a race, but as it turns out - it has taken all of my energy just to get myself there!  Last I talked about it, I believe I was writing about juicing, which I LOVED.  There were however a few issues with it for me.  I had the grand idea to juice only for 30 days, but as I have been training for a half marathon, there was no way I could keep my energy up for all the kids, all day, and run on that.  So, I decided to use it as a healthy breakfast or snack earlier in the day.  The other problem I had with juicing, was that it takes a TON of veggies because all of the pulp goes to waste.  I was fine using apples, carrots, and a few other things this way as the base for my juice, but then I liked to trade that juice over to my blender to add the spinach, and whatever more solid things I wanted to add for the green smoothie.  I didn't feel as wasteful this way, I felt like I was getting more of the good stuff in me, and it was a little less expensive.

I gradually started running.  At first it was a few miles on my treadmill, and stopping every 5 minutes or so.  It killed me, and it took everything I had on my ipod to keep me going.  After about a month of that, I moved outside as the weather began to improve.  I upped my run to about three miles outside, and once again, walked when I needed to on the hills etc.

At this point, my doctor put me on HCG, to help me lose the 25 fast pounds I gained when my thyroid stopped working last fall.  I gave myself the shot, and lowered my calories to 500 a day like the book says to.  This method has been proven over and over, but it is hard to explain how it is healthy unless you read Dr. Simeon's book.  Basically the shot is a hormone that is present in the body when you are pregnant, that protects all the organs in the body so the baby can grow and take nutrients from the mother's body, and she remains safe.  Obviously this is an over generalization, so if you want more info, read the book.  But he does say that you aren't supposed to exercise, other than walking, or it throws the equation off, and you go into starvation mode.  As I was following the plan, for about a week, I felt good until I ran or went to my boot camp class, because I was burning 1000 calories at the beginning of the day, only eating 500 - and still having the remaining day to go.  Simply put, it didn't work.  I stopped the HCG, and continued to train for my race.

I have lost 10 pounds so far, eating healthy and training for my run.  I have more to go, but feel like I am on track and in the right frame of mind.  I have to be patient with myself.  Getting my health back will take time.  I feel a ton better now that my iud has been removed, bringing my very high estrogen levels back down to normal, my progesterone raised so I can actually sleep at night, my iron raised so I can breathe again, and my thyroid fixed so I have energy.

Basically, I am ready to run 13 miles tomorrow with my brother Dave, and my friend/nanny/housekeeper, Maria.  I have had no injuries until this week, my arches of my feet started hurting and I don't know if it's from more miles, or my new shoes don't fit as they should.  Either way, I haven't run since Monday to let them rest for the race.  I am excited, and am proud of myself for running it.  I had one 13 mile practice run a few weeks ago, and it killed me.  I didn't stop, EVER, which is remarkable for me, but I also couldn't walk for a few days after.  I fully expect this race to be the same.  As long as I have my trusty new nano, that clicks onto a watch band for music.

and my two friends by my side, I will conquer.  We have to be at the bus pick up station at 3:30 a.m., and then bused up the canyon, where they will have fires to keep us warm in the dark.  I just realized that I can't take pictures with my nano, and that is a bummer..... but I think Dave will bring his iphone.  Hopefully I can share the craziness with you when it's all done.  I am grateful that you won't be able to see me run however, so if by chance you are running the Utah Valley Half Marathon/or full, don't watch.  It won't be pretty, and I may poop my spandex from anxiety.  Whenever I competed in my triathlon, my stomach was so sick from nerves on race day.

At least I know I won't drown on the half marathon! I came too close to comfort for that on one of my triathlons at Pineview Reservoir, where I grew up water skiing.  I jumped into the water, with bodies nervously jerking, all around me.  When the horn blew, I pushed off the shore and began my swim.  It was a windy day, and waves were sloshing around my head.  Out of nowhere, I was kicked in the face by another competitor, and I went to stand up to fix my goggles.  The ground had disappeared beneath my feet faster than I had imagined it would, and I plunged below the surface.  I timed my gasp for air, when the wave went down, and began treading water to empty my goggles, and replace them on my face, and cough out the water in my lungs.  By the time this task was complete, I began to swim again - marveling at the height of the waves.  Canoes were circling the swimmers, and pulling random fledgling bodies out of the water all around me.  I was determined to finish my swim, even if it took me all day.  I couldn't see where I was going doing the front crawl, so I switched to my side which takes even longer but at least I didnt' feel like I would die.  I imagined Jon sitting up on the shore, watching me risk my life and I remember half feeling bad about that, and half deciding that he deserved it.  After all, how many times had I worried about his?

Eventually I made it to the shore, THE LAST ONE.  People were clapping and staring at me like I was crazy for not just taking the rescuers hand.  Maybe thie has been a lesson to me.  In one way, I am better at letting people help me now, but it was also another demonstration of my determination to keep fighting, even when I am drowning.  I dont' know if this is a curse or not.

What I do know is that I haven't competed in a triathlon since, having a new appreciation for how it feels to drown, or at least start to.  Maybe someday I will try it again, but for now I am perfectly happy running.  I would love to start biking again, and I plan to after this race tomorrow.  I love seeing more scenery on a bike, and feeling the wind in my face.  Believe me, I am not feeling much wind in my face as I run.

But I will Saturday! 

Source: google.com via Janae on Pinterest

Adena's Voice: Part 1

We pulled up to her house, situated on a busy street with many cars whizzing by.  The house was very well manicured, complete with rose bushes in full bloom and trees that towered into the open sky.  There was a feeling of stability and love.  The roots here were deep, plummeting into a fertile ground that had been worked over with steady hands for decades.  Love and devotion sprouted everywhere,
a time gone by, when people spent time on their landscape, and not on frivolous random things. 

I stepped out of the car, gathering my camera bag, keys, and purse.  Carefully opened my drivers side door, to make sure it wasn't ripped off it's hinges by oncoming traffic.  I squeezed around my white Suburban, and took my first step back into time.  Aunt Adena's house looked the same as I remembered it from my youth, but not the surrounding busyness.  A farm community long gone, we were positioned right in the middle of a bustling city.

 I was named after my two aunts; Ranae and Janene combined into Janae nicely, and my mother told me there was a beautiful girl she knew with my name.  I grew up feeling loved in my family, with far reaching branches even into my extended family.  Stories were told by my Aunt Ann of my birth, and the reminder every year when I saw her at Christmas that I was "the most beautiful baby she had ever seen, with dark black hair and pink lips." I found my love of dance through my Aunt Janene, one of the first people I recall saying "point your toes, stand up straight".  I still love dance, it is a part of me.  And my Aunt Ranae, that I spent endless hours laughing with in her basement, when I slept over for a cousins night.  She had a vibrancy and love for life that was contagious.  She threw parties on New Years, and giggled like a 12 year old into the very lat night, or early morning hours depending on how you look at it.  I remember wanting to be just like her when I grew up. 

When Ranae got out of the car, a flood of memories and love washed toward me.  She was one reminder of my Grandpa Gourley, a man that has had more influence on my life than few others.  One being my father, that is much like my Grandpa.  His house was right down the street, and it felt in some ways he was still sitting inside, although it has been 16 years now since his passing.  In truth, I feel his presence regulary.  Whether it's in my heart, mind, or some realm I can't see - he is here. 

I gave my Aunt a big hug, and we walked into the house together, with my daughter's trailing behind.  They understood what was about to happen.  We were to visit my Great Aunt Adena, my grandpa's brother's wife, and interview her about her life.  Adena is now close to 100 years old.  Her beautiful face is burned into my memory from days long gone.  She visited us at our Christmas parties at my Grandparents house, and I remember her always being so beautiful.  A smile was comfortable on her face, and her bright blue eyes sparkled like the sky on a perfect day.  I hadn't seen her in about 20 years, and thought it would be nice to pay her a visit.  It was Aunt Ranae's idea, and I am so grateful to her for deciding on it. 

We knocked on her door, but heard no answer.  At first I worried of her health, remembering that she had just returned from the hospital a few days prior.  We pounded the door a little bit louder, just in case she couldn't hear us, but when there was no answer again, we walked inside.

There was no sign of her, which was an internal alarm for me.  We rounded the corner, and found her in the office typing away at her computer.  I couldn't believe that she still found the energy to sit up and work.  Her oxygen tube weaved between our feet, breathing life into her tired body.  She turned, and we saw her. 

Her eyes were just as I remembered them.  What is it about eyes that holds youth like no other part of the body?  It is fitting in my opinion, as they are the windows to our soul.  She hugged us, and was careful to not squish her as much as I wanted to, because she was fragile and almost a century old!  I reflected on my past 36 years, and tried to imagine adding another, almost two of my lifetimes onto it.  100 years of taking care of family.  100 years of love, loss, happiness, joy, and pain.  The many feelings of defeat, loneliness, success, and memories. 

I decided then and there, that the perspective on the other side of a lifetime is much different than at the beginning.  I wanted to listen.  I wanted her to relate the lessons she shared with my family, and I felt so blessed to have two of them there with me.

There was nowhere I'd rather be, than right there in the school of life, 

listening to Aunt Adena's Voice.

The Keeper

My Keeper

*two of my all time favorite pictures, of my Brighton* 

 Man, whenever I am in a bad mood, I just pull these keeper's up on my phone or computer and laugh the rest of the day.  Brighton had 3 rolls on her chin, THREE.  I had to lift each one up to clean them, so milk didn't get stuck in the creases and stink.  Brighton was also the child that was so difficult to keep a diaper on, it was a regular occurrence to find duct tape and scissors in her diaper bag, 

along with the desitin and tippy cups.

She remains equally as stubborn today, but in other ways.

One of those ways is her determination and passion she has to be a keeper (goalie) in soccer. 

 

This is the picture I took at Brighton's soccer party I threw for their team a few weeks ago.
She was happy.  She fit in, and was so excited to be part of a team.  It has been the first time in her life she has been so dedicated to something, and she wouldn't have it any other way.

Fast forward a few weeks, to her tryouts.  I watched her give it her all.  She ran out onto the field, ready to conquer the world.  Her hair was pulled up into a diagonal french braid, a style she regularly wears to keep her bright, blond hair out of her face as she jumps, dives, and slides on her side.  She turned and gave me a confident look,  collected her number, and ran off with her athletic friends. It was a hot day, but a nice breeze graced our faces. Mount Timpanogus was our backdrop to the soccer field - a sight that is none less than breathtaking. 

What a shock it was to glance through the results a few days later, and not find her name on the list.  My heart fell for her.  I was immediately taken back to the times in junior high when I tried out for cheerleader, and didn't make it,  and class office, and failed.  In high school, I tried out for drill team, and didn't make it.   It hurt.  It felt as though everyone were staring, and laughing at my weakness.   I wondered what was wrong with me.  Every part of my soul wanted to crawl under a rock and die.

 Jon and I debated whether we should tell her before we went boating last Saturday.  We didn't want it to ruin her day, but we also knew that she would find out from her friends sooner or later.  We also thought it would be a positive thing for all the girls to give her a hug when she was down, and talk to her about the hard reality of what she faced. 

We chose to tell.

She walked out of the bathroom by the laundry room, and Jon and I put our arms around her.  We explained the situation, ready to catch her heart when it fell.  First a look of disbelief, "Are you serious?!" Her eyes were huge.  Her big blue, green eyes welled up with tears, and she cried.  My Brighton doesn't cry that often, but this was one of those times.  Jon and I looked at each other, and felt her pain.  We reassured her that she gave it her all, and that it wasn't the last time she would be able to play.  We told her that it may be a good time to decide how committed she was to soccer, and if she wanted to try something else. 

Without hesitation, she told us she wanted to stick with soccer.

We began loading the boat, hopeful that the day ahead would bring with it peace and laughter on the waters.  We love boating.  And even though Jon and I started out the day overridden with the stresses of business, and family (and crying a bit myself) - we knew it would be therapeutic for all of us.  Jon and I fell in love on the boat after all.  "Hey, wanna go water skiing?" were his first words to me, without knowing each other's name.

Have you ever taught yourself something, as you teach your children?  This happens to me all the time.  A power bigger than myself is present as I see the world through their eyes, and in turn, I see myself differently.  I am a little less harsh on myself, and I see more as Heavenly Father would.

This was one of those days.

As we were driving down to the lake, I began.
"Brighton.  I know you are sad, and I understand that it hurts.  When I was younger, I tried out for things and failed over and over again.  I decided to work harder, and eventually made the drill team my senior year.  So, although I don't still dance (which I complain about every once in a while), I did learn something from all of my failures.  I learned to never give up.  And that skill alone, has blessed my life more than any other lesson I have been taught."

I knew it was true.  We continued to drive, and I could see that my words were getting through to her.  In my teaching moment, we were both reminded of the far sighted vision it takes to be truly happy. 

 

 And as I sit and type this blog, I pray that I can stay far sighted.  Life is rough, and I need to always remember *my keepers*  

My family