Category: Life according to Angela

Valentine Reminder

Valentine from Paige, age 7

Are you thinking about Valentine’s Day? Do you send cards to the people you love? I love receiving notes. I save everything. I’ll even print out a good email and tuck it in an envelope with the sender’s name. Someday you can come and visit and we can go through my letters and see all the notes I have kept from you. We’ll laugh and cry and remember good times.

Valentine’s Day can feel daunting, and you may be tempted to just call it an over-commercialized holiday, giving yourself an excuse to skip the sentiment. If you do, you’ll miss out on a great opportunity.

Here are some pointers and words of encouragement for the Valentine’s Day Challenged:

1. Some of the best valentines are unexpected. This was a valentine I received from an older girl in my high school. There was a carnation attached and she was wishing me luck on an orchestra performance. I thought this girl didn’t like me, but evidently she thought enough of me to send me a carnation *at school* for Valentine’s Day. Do you know someone who could use a pick-me-up?

2. Valentines do not need to be in card form. Here is a note my grandpa wrote to me. Always concerned about money (he was a banker), this was his form of love made visible. Notice he signed it “Love, John.” This was one of the last notes from my grandpa.

3. Remember the little people in your life. Children love to make valentines, but I think they love to receive them just as much. This was from my second grade teacher.  A little boy in my class saw my note from the teacher and the next week wrote one to me, misspelling the sentiment like this, “To my Sweat Pie from Sam.” Boy, do I wish I could find his note.

4. Hallmark is a great resource. Don’t be afraid of a store-bought card. I’ve kept this one for over 30 years. I loved it.

5. Chocolate is not the only treat you can give. This was not a valentine, but it ranks up there with one of the all-time most thoughtful gifts ever given to me. It was from Kyle, who was my “brother” on Pioneer Trek. This box of pop tarts was waiting at the door when I got home, tired and hungry. I guess I had mentioned that I loved pop tarts. He remembered. And yes, I am insane for keeping a pop tarts box label for 20 years.

6. Remember your old friends and avoid Facebook and email if possible. This letter is from Julie, a friend since elementary school. It is written with an old typewriter (in 2009!) to be more personal. I cherish this non-electronic approach to remembering a friend.

7. Valentines from sweethearts should never be shared online. So, you won’t see love notes from Richard here. Sometimes a valentine for a sweetheart is the most difficult to find. Just remember what you love about that person and I’ll bet you think of some way to tell them.

Happy Valentine’s Day preparations!

 

Puppy love

Sparky recently took a nap in the car beside a beloved stuffed animal.

Sparky keeps throwing up today. Blech. I’m trying to remember that we keep him because:

1. He was the cutest, most lovable puppy in the bunch.

2. The children love, love, love him.

3. He doesn’t have a big slobbery tongue.

4. He was a concession to Timothy for having to move.

5. I am afraid of any dog taller than my knee, so he is ideal.

Thoughts about Girls’ Weekend

Susan’s photos

I was a daughter and sister before I was a wife and mother, but most of the time I forget that.

I don’t think about leaving my family for a weekend away because I am a home body and I like to kiss my kids good night. I have left my family several times, but coaxing, extreme need, or a religion symposium were the necessary ingredients to pull me away. This time, it took the computer blowing up to finalize the decision.

On this girls’ weekend, I renewed my zeal for family history. As we worshiped, laughed, shopped, and sewed, I could distill the sisters from the accoutrements of children, husbands, and activity; distill the friends from the mother, relatives, and siblings.

In the book, Angle of Repose, Wallace Stegner talks about the Doppler Effect as it relates to memory and perception of life events. There is distortion over time, just as there is a distortion in sound with distance.

During our visit I heard stories of the past in new ways. My relative position to those memories has altered, and my understanding of motives and history makes these memories and their lessons different. Perception and value change with time, experience, and need. My mom said that hearing more about her family’s side events has altered her perception of things that happened long ago.

I am counting on that ultimate wisdom, because things aren’t perfect in these photos. I think of the sister-in-law who might have been with us, making our number 7, not 6. I don’t want to understand everything now, because the pain is too deep, but someday, when time eases up on the frequency of those feelings, maybe I’ll find my own angle of repose about it all.

I came away thankful for having gone. Susan’s pictures clarified what I felt was most important for me to learn on the trip, and that is to do my duty as a daughter of God first.

See the metaphorical baggage we dropped to the side to be in the temple together?

The great rescue from my quilt quagmire; a hair transplant, and basic relaxation strategies

On the morning after a late night Cranford marathon, one of us has eyes so puffy they won’t open.

 

Passing by

Richard and I often lament the opportunities we pass by as we travel, such as the Grand Canyon, Hoover Dam, and even the ubiquitous jerky stands and a quirky ostrich farm or rock shop.

We drive near the Hoover Dam several times a year. Since the bypass was constructed, there is a walkway spanning the canyon which we have never tried… because we’re in a hurry to get home to start the laundry and check our email or something. Somehow these things feel so petty when you begin to walk across the bridge, feeling the swaying and vibrations from traffic and catching the gusts of wind. At least this is what I think I would have felt if I hadn’t been taking care of our dog while the rest of the family had the adventure. I’m not bitter. Heights grow more terrifying with time. And I’m old. There’s nothing like heights to reaffirm that.

I drive though desolate scenes every day, but even here, the desert reminds me that there is depth and beauty for those who look. A coyote runs out in front of the car; a bull emerges near the railroad tracks on a foggy morning; an owl sits calmly on the power line as we race past it to church activities in the evening. Each of these sitings has left me inexplicably rejuvenated.

The key is to keep looking, even when the desert seems so, so barren, because I’m quite certain that it is wonder that rejuvenates and enlivens our souls.

There and Back Again

Paige and Richard at Zion National Park

 

We went away for the weekend. It was a Hobbit-like journey in its surprises and sudden departure. We came back more wise, weathered, and with treasures, too. I spent time in St George, Utah with the women in my family doing temple work, shopping, sewing, watching episodes of Cranford, eating salads, and enjoying Haagen Dazs. Richard and the kids set off on adventures at Zion National Park.

 

Timothy and Grandpa Ross at Zion
Paige, Timothy, and Daniel on the trail
Lost and Found!

After Richard and the kids returned, the kids, wide-eyed told me that Mark had been separated from the group for a while and was lost. He had a walkie-talkie and listened to instructions to yell so he could be found.

Mark said, “Mom, I was lost on Mount Zion.”

I asked,”And what did you learn from your experience?”

“Stay with the Pack!” he exclaimed.

Richard, never letting Mark out of his hands again.

On our return, we merged into our usual activities without much ado. The only hiccup was having to stay up until midnight so we could register Paige for EFY (Especially For Youth camp at BYU) at the first opportunity. Paige has given up on BYU Ballet Intensives. We have not been very happy with them for the past two years.

Let me explain EFY registration to you: Think early. You’ve got to get on the preregistration list in the fall. They will tell you the earliest time you can register, and it’s always some date in January at midnight. (We didn’t think early enough.) Think often. If you don’t get the location and dates you want, check the website often for cancellations. We didn’t get the date we wanted, but the next morning before seminary we checked the website and seized a new single opening on a better date. Hooray!

It seems that all we do lately is add activities to the calendar. We’re currently booked through August.

Jobs, not Chores

Around our house we do JOBS, not CHORES. I find that names carry a lot of significance. It’s better be employed in a job than a chore. One implies importance and meaning; the other implies drudgery.

But doggy pick-up truly is a chore. Notice the improvised gas mask.

Running the electric blower is the favorite outdoor job. It’s loud for little ears, so Mark chooses his red ear protection and he’s ready to go.

Here’s the list of the jobs the kids do on Saturdays:

bedrooms: change sheets, clean, dust, and vacuum

help clean bathrooms

vacuum and dust family and living rooms

help with dishes

dust mop the hallways

clean, dust, and vacuum school room

clean up patio and lawn areas

help in the garden or other outdoor tasks

doggy clean up (we usually pay 10 cents per… you know)

wash windows

put away laundry

fold towels or help with socks

One of Richard’s coworkers gave him a Wii because she felt sorry for us, the only family on the planet without computer games. It is not something we planned on purchasing, but we decided that since we have one, we will let the kids play it one day per week (Saturdays) after the jobs are finished.

I hope the Wii doesn’t take over our lives.

I worry that it will.

I really don’t like the Wii.

Mrs. Weasley’s clock

If I had a clock like Mrs. Weasley from Harry Potter, the hands for Richard, Daniel, Timothy, and Mark would be pointing to “Mortal Peril” on our vacations. You should google “Mrs. Weasley’s clock” and see the fun clocks people have designed.

Our family clock would be a little less exciting. A mood clock would probably be more appropriate today. If I had such a device, the mood would be “grumpy” for Timothy, “tired” for Daniel, “overwhelmed” for Paige, “frustrated” for Richard, “happy” for Mark, and “pensive” for me.

 

 

Vroom, vroom. It’s time to take charge of this day. Wish us luck.

’tis Christmas past

We have been away from home, enjoying extended family. We came home to a house full of Christmas presents we never put away, making it seem like we celebrated 4 Christmases (one at home, one in St George, one in Provo, and once again at home).

We did everything we set out to do this season and more, and those memories will keep us going.

Readers, I am not sure how to proceed. With the new year, I am reevaluating the time it takes to write this blog, as well as its content. In the past, I’ve used this as a forum to celebrate home schooling; I’ve ranted about educational philosophy; I’ve celebrated the children; I’ve reminisced and shared old photos; I’ve regaled you with lists more times than you can comfortably endure. The common theme and motivation has always been a desire to be known. This has not changed, but my time to share has been diminished.

I’ve been thinking about sharing more of my thoughts on the literature I read. When I have tried this, it has been cathartic, but very time consuming. To this point, I have only shared the titles I read in my sidebar, and I certainly have strong opinions about them. Would you be interested in reading some book reviews now and then? Don’t answer that question. I was just teasing. This blog is for me, even though I say it is for you. But I do write because I love you.

As I review this post I ask myself two questions, “Will this ramble in the woods of my thoughts be of any worth to someone besides myself?” and “Why am I not making dinner?”

I need to make dinner. To those of you whom I saw over Christmas break, I am so grateful for our time together. It was marvelous to be with you.

 

Humble gifts

The Christmas cards are not out yet and I will tell you why. I don’t like my hair in the photograph. It’s debilitating perfectionism like this that keeps me quiet, leaving people to think I am aloof or distant or a mute. Perfectionism is the reason I sometimes don’t give the gifts I have made to the people I love. Perfectionism and accompanying fatigue are the reasons I don’t throw more parties or make Christmas goody plates for the neighbors. My perfectionism has stalled the Annual Christmas Video this year. I can’t find the perfect song.

I’ve never been able to fall into the Christmas routine that so many families have: they get their Christmas cards out early; they have a current family portrait on the wall; they shop for Christmas in October. Immediate needs tend to push my Christmas planning and shopping to December.

However, the true Christmas meaning is wrapped in grace. My softest memories and most meaningful times have nothing to do with a perfect photo or the cutest card. The best gift offered to us presented himself in a manger, and the humility and imperfection of the scene reminds me that love doesn’t require perfect presentation. Humble offerings are sometimes the most meaningful.

I took some of my Young Women out for hot chocolate last night.  We talked for hours as the rain fell outside the little shop. We told one another about the favorite gifts we have given and received. The gifts the girls remembered were not expensive. We laughed and enjoyed the memories together of a father placing his gift on the front door of their home (where it remains) because he loved it so much; of a doll given to one of the girls by her brother and father, now in tatters, still sitting in her room. Last night will always be a special memory for me and I did it with messy hair, drove everyone in a cluttered van, and presented no wrapped gifts–just my time and a little hot chocolate.

I’ll get my cards out (I LOVE receiving Christmas cards!) and Richard will make an incredible Annual Christmas Video. I won’t make goody plates, but when I make a good batch of something, I’ll run some next door or across the street. I’ll never shake all of my perfectionist tendencies or my desire to just stay home away from the frantic scenes. But I hope you smile when you think of a time spent together with us this year, even if it’s just been through the blog. I share because I love you.