School Stories



Gwen 1st gradeParker 4th grade

School pictures arrived yesterday. Look at my cute kids! You would never know Gwen was sick the day before and I was sick with worry over whether or not to send her to school. They both look good. Where is Gavin’s picture? Good question.

I paid for his pictures online at least a week before I paid for the other two kids. The pictures should have been mailed to our house. I have yet to see them. I have asked Gavin if pictures were passed out at school. He says no. I’m still waiting to hear back from the company about it. I made sure to note that my elementary school kids pictures arrived with an apology from the company for being delayed. So where are my middle schooler’s pictures? I guess we’ll see. I still have my receipt to prove I paid.

Gavin has been wearing his gym clothes to school. He has PE first period and when it’s over he puts on normal clothes for the rest of the day. Today he came home wearing cargo shorts and his gym shirt. The shirt I labeled on the tag with his last name, but he took it upon himself to write his first and last name in Sharpie on the front! In his defense there is a white space across the front of the shirt for his name.

I asked why he had his gym shirt on thinking maybe he forgot to pack a regular shirt. He just said he forgot to change it. He didn’t seem bothered at all by it. Which means I should just get over it. It’s hard when it is so obvious to anyone there that he was wearing a school issued gym shirt with his first and last name proudly scrawled on the front. “Hi I’m in 6th grade, can you tell!” Dude! You can’t wear a sweaty gym shirt all day and act like nothing is wrong.

Actually I’m a little jealous of anyone who is so laid back. I wonder what it’s like to just not care?

A couple days ago we had a drizzly afternoon. This attracted Canadian geese to the back field after school. The birds wander around the field in the winter mornings, pecking for bugs and worms. Green and white broken crayon sized bird doots litter the pathway. The birds were out hunting for a snack this particular afternoon.

As I turned the corner I saw a young girl standing at the edge of the geese. Her arms were outstretched as she stood there in her lavender raincoat. It was a touching scene and I wished I could stop the car in the middle of the street to get a picture. I parked my car and looked back at the girl.

She had come out of her quiet trance and suddenly began chasing the birds. A maniacal look was on her face. Kids chasing birds can be cute. This was not.

Students poured onto the playground with the final bell. They started trickling through the back gates. Normally kids scatter outside those gates. Handfuls of kids will cross the grass to meet their carpool. Many stay on the paths. This day all the kids seemed drawn to the grass as if by some invisible force.

They headed straight for the birds with mischief in their eyes. Kids ran straight for the middle of the flock laughing as the birds scattered. Unsatisfied, the kids divided to conquer the offending geese by chasing them one by one until the birds jumped or waddled quickly away.

From the left a boy rode his bike across the grass. No one ever rides their bikes on the grass. This boy was also possessed by some evil desire to scare the goose poop out of the birds. He rode right at two birds slightly separated from their friends. Luckily he stopped short of hitting them but he did laugh when the birds hopped up and extended their wings.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw something black fly out of a boy’s hands and nearly hit a goose. Where were the parents? My hand jumped to the door handle but a thought restrained me. In a fraction of a second, without so many words, I knew if I got out to say anything to those barbaric children, the parents would materialize out of thin air and they would be mad at me for talking to their kids. I sat and stared in horror at the melee.

A girl and boy walked in front of me to get into the car directly in front of me. The car with the dog wagging its tail inside and the woman sitting at the wheel also watching every second of bird terrorism. I was relieved I hadn’t gotten out of my car. Just as I started to wonder if maybe I was making too much out of nothing the boy threw the black object at another bird. Since he was much closer to me I could see it was a compact umbrella folded up. Shocked I looked to the woman in the car. She was smiling and laughing with the kids. The kids checked their soles for goose poop. Satisfied they were clean, they got in the car and drove off.

What just happened? Did I really witness that?

When I got home I told Heath. When he was as bothered as me I knew I needed to report it to the principal. Supposedly district policy says teachers have two days to respond to parents. It’s been two days. I have heard nothing from the principal. I doubt I ever will. She hasn’t ever responded to my messages to her. I’m less than impressed. I hope to never see it again but Heath suggested I get video next time. Stay away from the field on wet afternoons Canadian geese!

Today I was parked behind a woman who looked just like the girl playing with the soccer ball. I kept looking at the girl trying to imagine her hair out as she systematically chased geese. It looked just like her. The sister to the umbrella hurler. Soon the boy showed up. It was the same brother and sister. They were definitely the children of the woman in front of me. Whoever picked them up from school the other day was not their mother. Must be why the woman seemed so oblivious to their savage behavior!

The boy was standing next to the car kicking a rock today. He kicked the rock straight up into the air. The mom yelped out the boy’s name, “Jake!” Gravity hurtled the rock onto the front of the car where it hit and bounced off. All three got into the car at that point. Mom didn’t look upset. They drove off and that was that.

Again I have to wonder what it’s like to just not care.

Why can’t you TiVo life?



“We were so excited about this process but now it seems that every time we go to the house there is more bad news. Bad news means more money. It’s getting very stressful. I can’t wait for it to be over.”

I caught this sentiment while watching a few minutes of Property Brothers today. These shows are all the same. A house is renovated in an hour. Financial drama fills the hour until the last five minutes when all is revealed. It’s perfect. The homeowners shed tears at the beauty of their fabulously staged home and feel all the stress was worth it.

What if life could be a TV show?

We could enter new experiences with enthusiasm. Then when the going got rough we could bear it knowing the hard part is edited down to about 30 minutes of the show including commercial breaks. In the end life is so beautiful it brings tears to the eyes. The stress all melts away in gorgeous furnishings. Clink glasses. Fade to black.

I’m sure whatever hard lessons life is handing us, we can’t wait for it to be over. I know I can’t. Lately I have been holding my breath for the look back post. “That was hard but now that I look back …” I’m not there yet. Many people I know are not there yet either.

What makes my current challenges most challenging is feeling like I can’t use writing as an outlet. Every other moment in the last seven years I have had the gift of writing. Whether it was an escape from reality or a way to reduce reality to manageable words. The words just won’t come now.

Do I really want to remember this moment?
I’m not in the right frame of mind to do the story justice.
Who wants to read this anyway?

The excuses pile up. When I think I should just write it for myself and save it for myself, my hands seize up more than ever.

What if my life could be a TV show? I would press the skip button. Just race past the predictable drama until the final reveal. Unfortunately my life is not prerecorded. There are no skipping capabilities. Even if my life were a book I wouldn’t skip to the end. I don’t do that with books. The journey of the story is too important.

I have been reading family history lately. It’s incredibly frustrating. Beyond a few names and fewer dates, the focus seems to be on the geography of where life took people. I never knew how much I cared about stories until I found such sketchy details of people’s lives. What, why, and how are not answered. It’s as if entire generations skipped to the end.

How can I judge when I want to skip ahead too? I would love to wave my hand over it all smearing the details. Wouldn’t it be so great to be able to say one thing led to another … my dilapidated life was renovated by the magic of editing and now everything is sunny and lovelier than I could have ever imagined.

Tearful sigh. Clink glasses. Fade to black.

What did you do wrong?


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The governmental mind game continues on. Jury duty.

Every single year without fail, Heath and I are summoned to jury duty. Neither one of us has ever gone in. Last spring Heath did go into the courthouse. He sat around for a couple hours and then his group was dismissed. That’s just kicking the mind game up a notch if you ask me.

Jury duty requires some finagling of schedules. Heath has to ask permission to work from home because of my summons. I would love to say I am the sole care giver for my kids and therefore can’t do it but I feel like I’m lying. We have the means for him to work from home to help me out. It’s just a lot of juggling and prior planning to find out my fate at the last minute. Yet the calm man on the court voicemail always says to carry on with my normal activities until I am required to call back the next day. It’s a good thing Heath’s boss is easygoing. He had a boss at another company who required he bring in his juror badge to prove he really had jury duty!

My summons arrived in the mail about a month or so ago while Heath was out of town on business. I was not thrilled. So I put it on the calendar and tried to pretend today would never come. I got a phone call from my endocrinologist’s office saying I need to call and schedule an appointment. They will just have to wait. I needed to go to a couple funerals and then stress about jury duty first. Guess I better make that appointment now.

Since Heath was actually called into the courthouse with his last jury summons, I was so nervous. It didn’t help that he was going to make me take BART there by myself. I was planning on having a stroke instead. Why can’t we ever get called to a courthouse in our own city?

I tried to watch the news to see what Oakland murder trial I would have to participate in. But it’s the year for the Giants to go to the World Series again. All the news has talked about is the San Francisco Giants. Last night Heath said he was glad that all the shootings could pause long enough for the news to be able to report on the Giants for half an hour.

It was finally past 5:00 pm and I needed to call to report for further instructions. I wondered all day about how to play that. Do I call right after 5:00 or would that make me more likely to get called into the courthouse? I waited for Heath to get home. At 6:30 I called and was told to call again between 11:00 am and 12:00 pm the next day for a possible report time of 1:00 pm.

Really that is the best case scenario. Every time I have to call back in the middle of the day like that I’m called off. My phone call completes my jury service. I figured that would happen this time. Heath got in my head though. When he went into the courthouse he saw groups arriving at 1:00 pm. Luckily my phone call this morning was good enough again. No need to report in person. I am safe for another year.

The kids knew their dad was working from home so I could go to jury duty. They just didn’t understand what that really meant. We tried to explain it but they thought I was on trial or something! When I dropped Parker off this morning for school he asked, “What did you do wrong?” So I explained again that part of my civic duty is to have the opportunity to sit on a jury to help a judge make decisions. Who knows if the lesson sunk in. It’s hard to explain to kids. For as often as I am called, I’m starting to wonder if I am being punished for something!

He Survived!


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Perhaps more importantly, I survived.

Gavin went on his first Scout campout last night. He got home this afternoon. Heath took the kids shopping last Saturday, while I was in Utah, to get Gavin some camping equipment. It sat in our family room all week. I was tasked with labeling everything and figuring out what else Gavin needed. I’m an indoor girl! I never went to Scout camp. I know nothing.

I woke up one morning all in a panic. Heath had asked me to shop for the final items Gavin needed, if he needed any, that day. When I woke up I thought it would be an impossible task. I looked at the list but didn’t really read it. A couple hours later when I was finally awake and mentally prepared to shop for guy stuff, I read the list. There wasn’t anything on there I needed to buy. If we didn’t have it Gavin really didn’t need it. I’ve been to Girl’s Camp with the Young Women and I know what is and is not really needed on a campout.

But I was all set to go shopping. I took myself out to Target and bought some things that would be nice for Gavin to have. Like a new pair of jeans and plastic toiletry covers along with a couple sweaters for me. I had to make the trip worth my while!

That night Gavin took all his gear to the church for his pack check. He passed. The closer we got to Friday the more nervous I became. Gavin and I have an unhealthy relationship. He has skated by this far in life by feigning incompetence. I can’t stand it so I do things for him. Thursday night I wanted to relax in front of the TV with a Diet Coke. It quickly turned into sanity juice as I watched Gavin try time and time again to roll up his sleeping bag. I texted Heath who was at the church with the Bishop that I was trying not to rescue Gavin. Ten minutes later I texted that I failed. I have issues.

My biggest concern was his jacket. I love my Gavin but he is the absent minded professor. We bought the boys new jackets before school started. Gavin wore it to school maybe twice on chilly mornings. The last time it didn’t come back home. I had no idea until the next chilly day. He looked in the lost and found at school with no luck. I suggested he look in his PE locker that he never uses. Not there either. My fear was he left it on the bus and it was as good as gone.

Rain was forecast for last night and into this morning. I couldn’t, in good conscience, send Gavin on an overnight camping trip ill prepared to deal with rain. He had enough clothes and sweatshirts to stay warm but none of it was water resistant. As much as I wanted to be a love and logic parent I had to buy him a jacket. It was the only fair thing to do. So yesterday I bought him a weather resistant jacket. I looked but there were no clothes that I felt I had to buy for myself!

I was in the kitchen doing dishes when Gavin came home from school. He walked by the kitchen and said hi. I looked up and saw he was wearing the lost jacket! Of course. Now he has two. I made him take the one I just bought because it was better for the rain. Since he had everything he needed, there was no rain.

He had a lot of fun on his campout. He passed off a lot of requirements and even was nominated for and elected Quartermaster. He looked nervous when I dropped him off at the church yesterday. His leader drove him to and from the campground. Robert loves Gavin. He calls him the Gavinator. Gavin loves going to his house for piano lessons because they all call him the Gavinator and say their house is protected from monsters because of the Gavinator. I think getting to ride with Robert eased Gavin’s nerves.

We went to Arby’s for dinner. Then we let Gwen and Parker watch a movie in our room. The movie ended around 10 pm. Gavin claims he stayed up until 11. Parker slept in Gavin’s top bunk bed last night. Surprisingly enough Gwen went straight to bed in her own room. When she heard Parker wanted to sleep in Gavin’s bed she wanted to sleep in Parker’s bed.

I had the opportunity to go to the temple but I declined the offer. I had to see my Gavin! Robert took him to our house but we thought he would be at the church. I needed to make some copies for Primary anyway. So Gavin walked home from Robert’s house. I met him on the path between the neighborhoods. I was so happy to see him! We survived.

Not Messing Around



I try not to be that mom that worries all the time. The mom who watches the news and freaks out because she has kids. In the end I am still a mom. Freaking out comes with the territory. The need to protect is innate and very strong.

I’m sure you’ve seen the news. The Ebola virus is rampant. I’m less worried about that. The one illness that has me secretly terrified is the Enterovirus. I think I would be fine but when the news anchors read the copy as if it’s straight out of a Steven King novel then add an asthma twist, they have my attention. I’m worried.

While Enterovirus is not the flu it has flu like symptoms. I’m not messing around with the flu this year. I have had my fill of the flu over the last couple of years. It’s time I play by the rules and get the stupid flu shot already. If anyone in the family still ends up with the flu I will be very put out. When the kids were babies I would get them a flu shot with a well baby checkup. They still got the flu. The years I decided not to do the shot they were fine. We’ll see what happens this year.

Gavin’s doctor talked me into having him get the HPV shot. I am very much against it because what I understand of this vaccination is it prevents sexually transmitted diseases. My family’s standards are different from the rest of the world when it comes to sexual activity. Before I could say anything the doctor said he knew it was a controversial vaccine but he wanted to push it because it prevents cancer or something like that. Fine. Who am I to argue? Give my kid the stupid shot.

It comes in three installments! His second dose was scheduled for this week. Which was nice because I may not have gone out of my way to take my kids in for flu shots otherwise. I got one too.

Gavin’s flu shot was easy. We checked in with pediatrics and said he needed shots. The lady sent us across the hall to pediatric injections. The vampire there asked if he needed a flu shot too. She stood across the room to throw her syringes into my human dartboard of a son. Bulls eye both times. Just kidding. It was quite easy for him. She told me the rest of us had to register in the other building for our flu shots. I thought that was a little lame. I mean really, two of us were kids! You got the juice right here, shoot em up!

Instead I nicely escorted my entourage of ducklings into the other building to fill out three forms. One for each of us. Then wait in line. Because Gwen is 6 years old she was able to snort her vaccine. The lady told me that Parker could not. He was 9 years old, therefore too old. Not to mention the biggest no no of all being that I checked that he has asthma on his form. Crap. I couldn’t remember if asthma meant he could have the nasal mist or not. Apparently not.

He was a good sport about it though. We all have latex chicken egg soup swirling around inside. Hopefully it means none of us will have the flu this winter. And I am hoping against hope that Parker does not even come close to contracting Enterovirus. Given how hard it is on the respiratory system I don’t think our little guy could make it.

I just finished reading The Blind Side: Evolution of a Game by Michael Lewis. Great book. I loved how Michael Oher described the white world. He said white people worry about so many things. They go to the doctor for everything. He said if someone sprains their ankle they go to the hospital! Just walk it off, he said. It’s true. White people have created a bubble to live in. Outside is certain death.

I’m white. I live in the bubble though I try not to. My kids mean the world to me and I have to do whatever I can to protect them from crazy illnesses that exist outside the bubble. Since we live in the bubble we are not equipped with the physical strength to withstand anything outside the bubble. So we got our flu shots after years of refusing to. I’m ready to stop registering to vote but that’s a whole other story.

I can’t clean, it’s a holiday!


Weekend carnage litters my home. It looks like a clutter war zone. Upstairs isn’t nearly bad as downstairs so it was easy to leave the house this morning with promises to clean up later. Now it’s later and I find myself in my office with the invisible walls relaxing to the clicking of my fingers on the keys with no names. Who needs a clean house?

It’s been another full day. Is it just me or does every day feel like a week and every week feel like a year? Will life ever slow down? Probably not. I’m on a continual countdown to the end of time. One of the crafts offered at our annual Fantastic Friday Relief Society activity was a countdown chalkboard. Blank days until blank. I thought that would be too depressing.

After Heath took the kids to school for me we went to Men’s Wearhouse to buy him new suits. He got some new work shirts, ties, socks, and a blazer for business trips. My stylin man!

We found an Italian restaurant nearby for lunch. It was so good! Per dating tradition we grocery shopped last. We put away Costco stuff before getting kids from school.

Picking up kids was a fun adventure. We recently found out that the movie Meet the Mormons would be in our theater for an extended period of time. We wanted to go on Friday but didn’t have the time and then I was gone all day Saturday. We wanted to get into an early showing.

I sent Gavin off to school this morning without confirming our plans for the movie after school. We never discussed where we would meet him after school so I figured he would just take the bus as usual.

He gets out ten minutes after Gwen and Parker get out. Heath drove from the elementary school to the middle school with the hopes that we could intercept Gavin before he got on the bus. Unfortunately there are no stopping signs all over that street. We circled the block the school is on over and over trying to figure out how to get to the buses to pull our kid off! The last time we came around the buses had left.

There are two left turn lanes. Gavin’s bus was in the right left lane and we happened to be right next to it in the left left lane. But it was one of those buses with the stupid picture ads that block all the windows. Parker and Gwen were waving wildly hoping Gavin could see us. When we turned Heath worked his way over so he would be right in front of the bus on its route through the neighborhoods. Parker kept his eye on the bus waiting for it to put on a blinker to pull over at a stop.

Heath saw the bus pulling over so he turned around in a cul de sac. Gavin came running towards us. I was impressed. I wasn’t sure if he would ever notice it was us and try to get off. If we had to wait for him to get home we would have been late to the movie. As it was we had 20 minutes before showtime.

We expected a fairly empty theater for a 3:50 pm showing of Meet the Mormons. Three people were sitting in the middle of the theater and started laughing when Heath got around the corner and said, “Wow. Where in the world should we sit?” He walked right up to these people and I feel stupid it took me until we got up to them to recognize them! They used to be in our ward. She was my first visiting teacher here and Heath taught her oldest son in Deacon’s Quorum.

We ended up sitting all together on the same row. As Lisa and I were deep in conversation a couple walked in and we all had to laugh. It was another couple from our ward. He has a PR type calling and we learned about the movie showing in our theater from him! He was the one who sent out an email to the stake informing everyone that the movie had been extended through the week. Originally it was only supposed to be in our theater for the weekend but after selling out all weekend they extended the time. He and his wife (who hadn’t seen it yet) sat in front of us.

It was a great movie. I thought it was well done, interesting and inspiring. Lisa and I started crying at the story of the homeless teenage mother. It was a powerful story. I reached over to pat Lisa’s leg knowing the story brought up some painful emotions because of the divorce she’s going through. She grabbed my hand and squeezed hard until the story was over. Later we all went to dinner together at 5 Guys.

I’m glad we ran into them today. We haven’t seen them in a long time and it was nice to reconnect. It’s always nice to be a silent support to someone who needs it.

The kids worked on homework when we got home and somehow my house didn’t clean itself. *sigh* It was a fun day.

Maybe Columbus Day will help me discover some sanity


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It’s been a wild weekend. The hardest part for me was knowing that at the end of the sprint was a marathon.

Where to begin? Way back in August I flew out to Salt Lake for many reasons. I realized yesterday that the biggest reason was to pick out my father’s final resting place. I assumed this was something my brother and sister would do. I never felt like I had to be there. So in my mind it just happened to work out that while I was already visiting and immersing myself in my dad’s things, that Deanna made an appointment with a funeral director.

Like I said before, I never thought I cared so much about where my dad would be finally laid to rest until we found it. We chose the cemetery because it was a place my dad loved to walk around with his sister Cathy. It was near his home. My dad had a period in his life where he moved around a lot but he always seemed to be in the Salt Lake City area. He was most happy in the city.

With all that in mind we knew that Wasatch Lawn Memorial Park was the place for him. Matt showed us around the expansive space and all our options for niche walls. When we got to the wall in the middle of the cemetery I knew that was it. It was just a beautiful peace that came over me and I knew that was where he should be laid to rest.

At the interment yesterday, Tyson talked about how we wanted to wait to bury our dad so we could pick the perfect place for him. We wanted to honor him the best we could and Tyson was quite pleased with the spot that was chosen for our dad. Interesting side note, Tyson had never seen the spot until yesterday morning when we met there for the interment. He felt the same way we felt. That it was the perfect spot for Dad.

Originally that’s all my weekend trip was supposed to entail. The plan was for me to fly out Friday night and return home Monday morning. About a month before my trip Heath was told he needed to do a SAS training at work. He was grateful to be able to put on his resume that he was formally trained in a computer language. Heath is a brilliant man and has taught himself many computer languages, including SAS. But this training would be official, which always looks better! He even has a gold star sticker on his certificate because he answered so many questions in the classes!

The training ended at 5:00 pm on Friday, October 10. The day I was supposed to be flying out to bury my dad. Luckily we hadn’t booked any flights yet. When we tried to book flights there was nothing on Friday night that would work with Heath’s schedule. Well, there was the one flight that would take twelve hours between three different states before I got to Salt Lake! A direct flight from Oakland to Salt Lake City takes one hour and twenty six minutes. Trust me. The pilot said it last night when I flew home.

The best we could do was have me fly out at 6:00 am Saturday morning and come home Monday morning. The service for my dad was scheduled for 11:00 am. I think it’s worth noting that my mom said, “You land at 9:00? Cutting it a little close huh?” I just have to laugh at that. None of us had any idea the twists and turns this weekend would take on.

Last weekend was General Conference. I was so excited about it. I had my own list of questions that I hoped I would receive answers to. And I couldn’t wait to see what unexpected inspiration I would receive. Never in my wildest dreams would I have ever imagined my life would change the way it did.

Between sessions on Saturday Heath got a text from the Stake Executive Secretary saying that a member of the Stake Presidency wanted to meet with Heath and me the next day between sessions. Our minds started racing. Obviously Heath would be offered a new calling (church responsibility). What could it be? I quickly dismissed it thinking that it was probably something low profile like Stake Athletic Director or something like that.

The next morning I saw an email from our Bishop to the ward stating that the following Sunday (the 12th) a new Bishopric would be put in. Whatever Heath was thinking about a prospective position called by the Stake Presidency changed in an instant. Our hearts both stopped. Then resumed as if we were on a exercise wheel being chased by a rabid animal. Neither one of us heard much of Sunday’s morning session of Conference. Time stood still. It felt like 11:20 would never come!

Because time really does march on, despite how we feel in certain moments, 11:00 came and we kissed our babies goodbye. We knew we were leaving way too early to make the appointment but we couldn’t stand the suspense any longer. We got to the church with our hearts in our throats. My mind was racing. Do I cancel my trip? What do I do? What if Heath is called as a counselor to the Bishop?

Finally the Stake Presidency member (also a member of our ward and our financial advisor) came out and asked me if he could borrow Heath for a moment. The two of them went into the Stake office and shut the door. They were out quickly enough and I was asked to join them. President B. told me that he had conducted a worthiness interview with Heath in preparation to offer him the position of Ward Executive Secretary. Then I was asked if I could support Heath in this position. Yes, of course.

Executive Secretary! Possibly the busiest job an individual can hold in a ward short of the Bishop. Heath is the Bishop’s secretary. He does it all. I get to sit with him in Sacrament Meeting unlike the Bishop’s wife and the wives of the counselors. But I will not really see him on Sundays anymore. The rest of the week will be incredibly busy too. I’m so excited for him and this tremendous opportunity but I’m selfish and I don’t know if I’m ready for this sacrifice. We’ll go through with it obviously, but it’s going to be a big sacrifice for our close knit family.

The first phone call we made was to my grandma’s house. My family has a longstanding tradition of meeting at my grandparents house for General Conference. It was perfect because we could talk to everyone all at once to let them know what was going on.

My family’s reaction was mixed. They were excited for Heath but definitely didn’t want me to cancel my trip. Deanna complicated things further by informing us that Grandpa Clarke was not doing well and would pass away soon. My aunts and uncles said that if he died that week they would definitely hold his funeral on Saturday (the same day we were burying my dad). I hope it wasn’t wrong for me to think this but I hoped for everyone’s sake my grandpa would die that week. Especially for my grandpa’s sake I hoped that. I haven’t seen him in well over 20 years but when I saw him at my dad’s memorial service in June he looked like a shell of the man I remember.

He finally gave up the fight hours later at 2:00 am Monday morning. Saturday just got busier. In the meantime we needed to do something about my flights. I had to be home on Sunday. We had no idea what Heath’s schedule would look like on Sunday plus I really wanted to be there when he was set apart. (A special blessing specific to the responsibilities he would be assuming.)

Heath called Delta and worked his magic. All he had to say was that I was flying to Salt Lake to bury my dad on Saturday and he needed me home on Sunday. The lady asked for the name and number of the cemetery and said there would be no charge to change the flights. On the one hand I’m not surprised. People are generally very respectful when it comes to funerals. But I am still so stunned at the wonderful blessing of how easy, not to mention free, it was to change my flights.

New plan: fly out at 6:00 am Saturday and fly home at 8:00 pm the same day. Of course we received word that Grandpa passed away the next day and that only added to an already busy day. In the best way possible. My aunts and uncles were already traveling to support us and be there when their brother was buried. It was perfect that they could have their father’s funeral the same day.

A wrench was thrown into the plans. It was the last straw so to speak and I will freely admit I completely lost it. Maybe some people can beautifully handle large amounts of stress. I am not one of them. The mental anguish of this whole summer has been more than I can bear in some moments. The stress of traveling alone to do somewhat unpleasant things is not my favorite thing in the world. I was already stressed out about my day trip knowing I would come home to say goodbye to my husband. Then one little email threatened to send me to the loony bin.

The email simply stated that due to a scheduling conflict at the mortuary my dad’s service would be switched from 11:00 am to 9:30 am. I could not keep my blood sugar up all day I was so upset. I ate copious amounts of carbs and still could not keep my blood sugar up. It would have been so easy to throw up my hands and say SCREW IT!

I finished my little temper tantrum after stormily crying on the phone to my mom, my sister, and my husband. Then I did the right thing and looked into the future. Then I meekly texted my family to apologize for my outburst and let them know I would be there in the morning.

As luck would have it my flight left a few minutes early which meant I landed early. Ed picked me up from the airport and we went straight to the cemetery where my family was patiently waiting for me, expecting me to be late. We arrived shortly after 9:30. Any nerves I still had about the events of the day melted away when I was greeted with so many hugs. First from my brother. We’re not a hugging sort of family so it meant a lot to me to have him be the first to smile so big at the sight of me and hug me hard saying he was glad I made it. I was glad I made it too.

My dad’s service was beautiful. Tyson talked about why we waited for this final part of the process. He said that Dad conferred on him the Melchizedek priesthood and he was honored to use that priesthood to dedicate Dad’s final resting place. The funeral director had fresh baked cookies for us. Technically it was probably his way of apologizing for the accidental double booking and bumping us up 90 minutes. They were delicious and it was a really nice gesture.

We chatted for a while and everyone signed my dad’s guest book again. We put that in the niche with the gorgeous box he was in. I was grateful to see my dad’s best friend there with his wife. I grew up with Gary in our home often. I remember when he married Elizabeth. He wasn’t able to make it to my dad’s memorial service since his dad passed away and he needed to be with his own family. Elizabeth was there for the both of them. It was interesting to see Gary. I would never have recognized him! Elizabeth looks exactly as I remember her only with gray hair. I must have grown up because Gary was not nearly as tall as I remember! But they were every bit the wonderful couple I remember them to be. I’m so glad they were there and that my dad had them as friends all these years.

Soon we were all going our separate ways. My aunts and uncles were grateful for the change in schedule because it gave them more time to prepare for their father’s funeral in Tooele. I guess it’s not all about me after all! No, it is so obvious the Lord had His hand all over this weekend. He really does know us each by name and He knows what is going on. He knew when Grandpa needed to come home. It’s very humbling and inspiring to see the hand of the Lord blessing a family this way.

It’s actually pretty miraculous to realize that after decades of estrangement, my family could come together in this way. The love is still there. I still see my dad in my uncles eyes and it feels as if years of misunderstandings immediately melt away when I look into their eyes. We are family. I just hope we can stay in touch. These people are a part of me. I am a Clarke. I hail from generations of cowboys and hard workers.

It was really fun to learn more about my grandpa at his funeral. Not only was he the 14th of 14 children but he was thought to be stillborn! He was put to the side so his mother could be attended to. She and her husband quickly came up with a name for the headstone, which is why he doesn’t have a middle name. But Grandpa was meant to live and he revived himself. Then lived a full 89 years of hard work and service. His cowboy hat was put on his chest before the casket was closed. He was buried in a beautiful and simple pine box just as he wanted.

My aunt Cathy gave me a huge binder full of pedigree charts and family trees. She said all the temple work has been done. I don’t care! That book is gold to me. Doing the temple work was always second in my mind to first and foremost finding out who my family is. It looks like there are some stories in there. I look forward to connecting myself to these names online and learning about my family.

The day ended and it would have been great if I could just be done for a minute. But I had to wake up early enough to get my family to church by 9:30 this morning. I freaked out the Primary President by being there. She came over just before Sacrament Meeting started and asked why I was there. Callings in our church are kept confidential until the person is sustained in Sacrament Meeting. All I could say to her was that I changed my flights. She found out soon enough what was happening but I’m sure her mind went wild for the next 20 some odd minutes of anticipation!

After Heath was set apart he suggested I take the kids to Primary. I saw one of my best friends in the hall with her baby. This is the girl who gave me the courage to find help for my anxiety. Can I just point out that I went off medication a year ago. A month later my Grandpa Swain passed away. Eight months later my dad also died followed closely by my Grandpa Clarke. I have been through a lot without the help of medication.

My friend was so sweet to reach out to me last night by asking how my trip was going and hoped to hear about it when I got back. I sent my kids on to Primary and I stayed out there to talk. Slacking on my duties as Primary Secretary for a while was the only part of my weekend I could say no to. I just needed a minute to catch my breath from everything going on.

Eventually Heath came home from church after many meetings with the new Bishopric. We are officially a two car family at church for the foreseeable future. He explained some of his responsibilities to me. He has a lot on his plate but I know he’s going to be awesome.

The Lord knows what we are capable of. If He thinks we can handle this we can. There are so many changes in life. Yesterday I drank my liquid courage on the flight to Salt Lake. Then again at lunch and a final few ounces on the flight home. I told my mom I would deal with my budding Diet Coke addiction later. For now I can only handle one thing at a time. I buried my dad and grandpa in the same day and kissed my husband goodbye the next day. Don’t judge me!

Heath gets Columbus Day off tomorrow. The kids have to go to school. This happened last year too and my Grandpa Swain passed away that afternoon. Wow it’s been a year! Heath told me that I can sleep in and he will take the kids to school. Do I have the best husband or what? I’m looking forward to a date day with him. Maybe the slower pace will help me reclaim my sanity. Christopher Columbus’ only discovery was really a day for me to relax. Because I like to believe it’s all about me.

Morgan Clarke


OI1322739098_ClarkeMorgan[1]Born in Loa, Ut Jan. 31, 1925. Passed away Oct. 6, 2014 in Tooele, Ut. at age 89. His parents were Alexander A. Clarke and Martha Catherine Rymer. He was 14th of fourteen children. He had to be tough in order to survive in harsh conditions of Southern Utah. Hard work is all he knew. Being a cowboy was his way of life. He served WWII in the U.S. Navy, completing his education when he returned home. He then worked on the open range with cattle. He broke horses as a side job and had a gifted communication with animals. He worked in Dugway, Ut. riding the perimeters on horseback and continued as a Security Guard for 33 yrs. He met the love of his life and married, Bernice Peery Larson April 19, 1952. He adopted her 4 children. She passed away June 2012. They raised 10 children, losing 4 to untimely passings. So loved by all. We wish to thank our friends at Rocky Mountain Care Center for the loving care shown to our Dad. Survived by his children: Delores (Wolf) Vielstich, Cathy (Ron) Carlisle, Saralee (Junior) Larson, Merrill, Max (Brenda) and Dale (Debbie) and many grand and great grand children. A viewing will be held Sat Oct. 11 2014 at 1:00 pm followed by the funeral at 2:00 pm at Tooele 27th Ward 180 So. Coleman Street. Burial at Tooele City Cemetery. And now to make that last inevitable ride where the grass is lush and green and stirrup high, and the water runs cool, clear and deep. We ask that God will tell you to “ride in” as your entry fees have been paid.

The more we move in …


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the more we grow up.
the less we move out.
and the more okay I am with all of it!

Heath used to get “mad” at me when I would watch HGTV. The shows reminded him that we are not homeowners and that he misses it. I do too.

“I just watch for design ideas,” I would always say. As if I was some sort of HGTV junkie rationalizing my behavior. I can quit anytime! That’s not true which is why I never say that. He’s been watching with me more lately. We dream about the future and make plans as if life is just that easy.

Over the last several months we have started nesting for some reason. I think for all these years we have lived with one foot out the door. I don’t know what changed. Maybe nothing more than our attitudes. The more shelves we put up and the more we did, the more we felt like we were at a crossroads. Either all this “moving in” means we will be moving out soon or we are settling into where we are supposed to be.

The Lord led us here. I feel like He still needs us here. We’re not going anywhere anytime soon. But our house is awesome. Our neighborhood cannot be beat. The ward (church congregation) we live in is filled with angels. After all our nesting, I am quite content to stay as long as the Lord needs us here.


I love the bench/sofa I got from my dad. We had to change our bedding since the silver we had clashed. Now we have this very rich blue brocade paisley pattern. Between the headboard we made a couple years ago, the bench, and now the bedding, I feel like an adult. This is a grownup’s room! I almost forget that we had a baby gate blocking the doorway for a couple years.


On the other side of the room is our sitting area. After years and years of searching for the perfect chairs, the sitting area is complete. I’m not kidding when I say we have been searching for chairs for years. I have always been drawn to the wingback chair style. But every time I found a chair I loved at first sight it ended up being uncomfortable to sit in.


Who would have ever thought that La-Z-Boy would have my chairs! We found a section of wingback chairs that I thought were pretty. We sat down and were pleasantly surprised by how comfortable they were. Then our salesman (the same guy who sold us our family room furniture) told us these chairs also recline. Shut up! It’s true.

The problem was I hated the fabric. There was a card of fabric options attached to one chair. I hated all of those options too. Mr. Tim is my favorite salesman in the whole wide world! He told us that we could custom make our chairs. He took us to a wall of fabric swatches and told us which sections of fabric we could choose to cover our chairs. There were about 100 choices.

Heath actually picked out the fabric. He loved the ghosting effect. Like the designs were lightly stamped on. I really liked the colors. It was all very soothing. We picked the leg color and design along with the fabric. We waited for these chairs to finally arrive. They could not be more perfect in the room. It’s hard to see all the colors in photos but these chairs tie in the whole room. Every color we have in the room is found in these chairs. An HGTV designer would be so proud of us! Comfortable and gorgeous. These chairs are perfect.

We really had to wait quite a while for our custom made chairs. We went back to La-Z-Boy to check on the status. Heath suggested we do a lap to look for another side table. My dad’s table is so beautiful but it needed a friend. I still don’t regret not taking the matching table from my dad’s house. The matching table was the masculine version of the one I got. It was shorter and the legs were heavier while being more ornate. I really didn’t like it.


This is the table I chose. I really thought I took more pictures of it. I liked the knickknack shelving. The table spins so I can easily switch out which dust collectors are most visible. My dad’s chess set sits on top. The best part about the table was it was sold as is. It was a floor model for a steal of a deal. It was the perfect color with the perfect way to display all the stuff I got from my dad along with all my stuff I have had in storage for so long.


We have also been shopping for a new kitchen table and chairs for years. It went from being a nice wish to becoming a bit of a necessity. The table is older than dirt and has provided so much service for our family … and Heath’s family. It finally got tired. One of the kids was standing up on a chair and accidentally fell backwards. The table caught the kid but at the price of breaking a little. We’re lucky it didn’t break completely. But it has been sagging in the middle ever since. I have been holding my breath waiting for the table to crush under the weight of my skinny kids eating with us at a standard meal.

For over a year now we have been poking our heads into Bassett to look for tables. At first it was for the fun of it then, like I said, it was a necessity. The last time we went there Heath was serious. He told me to start picking out what I wanted and we were going to pull the trigger on buying a new dining set. The salesman was the nicest guy. I wanted to work with him and give him the commission but I walked out of there ready to throw up.

I knew the prices were high but that wasn’t the only problem. I couldn’t put my finger on what was wrong but I was literally sick to my stomach at the thought of buying a table and chairs from there. The next weekend we went to other furniture stores where I found tables that were much closer to my style. Still I didn’t love any of them.

Two weekends ago we went to a furniture store that somehow we had missed. It’s closer to our house than any other furniture store. We walked in just for kicks. And I fell in love. When we sat down at the table I knew what was wrong with all the other tables. I was settling. Settling on a dining set for $2000 is one thing. Settling to the point of compromising on a set for nearly twice the price made me sick to my stomach.



This gorgeous piece of furniture was on sale and delivered today! Nice turn around! If our salesman hadn’t been sick I wonder if it could have been delivered last weekend with our sitting room chairs. The wait was worth it.

I love it. I love how it’s so huge and fills our tiny breakfast nook without looking weird like our other table did. Maybe that’s just my opinion. I think it has a stunning presence.

Heath worked from home so he could be here when it was delivered. I have been driving all over town doing visiting teaching, picking up kids from school, and carpooling to scouts. He staged the table with our Halloween candles and some nice placemats. Gwen came home and made green name tags for everyone!


We bought extra chairs for when we have guests. It’s nice to not have to rely on folding chairs for company. I’m trying not to brag but it’s coming out that way. We paid $1500 for the table plus eight chairs. The company paid the sales tax after giving a 25% discount on the total purchase. I feel all grown up now.

Who knows what the future holds for our family. All I know is that the Lord wanted us here and He’s not ready for us to leave yet.

A Thirst for Knowledge


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This is the best school year ever! We have had great teachers in the past. Last year all three kids were in school and it was fun. But somehow this year is exceptionally great. I have never seen all three kids love learning so much.

Every time I ask Gavin if he still likes middle school he says, “Of course!” I told a friend that he didn’t really fit in at elementary school. We put him in the laptop program hoping he would find friends with similar interests. He has definitely found his niche. Even PE isn’t so bad.

He’s funny though because he still finds homework tedious. He can’t wait to finish so he can learn about the things he’s interested in, like delving deeper into history and science.

I saw an envelope from the school addressed to Gavin’s parents. It contained test scores from a state test I completely forgot he took last spring. It was the first time kids took this type of test. It measured how well students understood the state standards for science. Gavin scored 100% in four out of six categories. The tests he didn’t ace were scored in the above average range. My kid is smarter than I am!

Parker and Gwen have already brought home book orders from their classes. I told them they could choose any books they wanted but they had to pay for it out of their own money. We counted out the money they already have so they knew how much they could get or how much they needed to earn. Then they sat down with the book orders and circled affordable options. And that’s as far as that went. Neither one of them wanted to earn the money. Part of the problem was the fact that the book orders were due so soon after they were sent home. These two get discouraged quickly.

As a kid I built up my own library from book orders and book fairs at school. I also have a weakness for books, particularly picture books. We have a lot of books in our house. A lot of books plus limited space to store and display them. So I have turned into a mean mom by telling my kids they have to pay for their coveted books on their own.

The book fair is this week and I wanted to tell them they had to earn the money themselves. But I’m a big old softy pushover. Parker has finally developed a love for reading. He followed along while listening to A Wrinkle in Time on CD. When he got to the last chapter he decided to read it to himself. I don’t know if he was having trouble finding the chapter on the disc or if he was ready to fly on his own.

He finished the book and claimed he really liked it. I told him we had plenty of books to choose from at home to read for homework. We looked through the chapter books that would be appropriate for him to read. He was excited about Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. He has been happily reading it on his own. I know he’s reading it and I know he understands because he tells me about it.

So back to the book fair. With this new love for reading, I really wanted my kids to feel encouraged about the book fair and not discouraged. They assumed I would make them earn the money but then I surprised them. I said I would buy them each one book if it met my approval. It had to be a quality book. Not some Lego Star Wars encyclopedia or a graphic novel. I hate those books. They’re not quality literature. Gwen couldn’t pick some book loosely based around a popular icon like Hello Kitty, Barbie, or a Disney princess.

They were stoked to see me walking into the school yard to take them to the book fair. In fact, Parker raced toward me his face red. The red face was a combination of the 100 degree temps outside and sheer excitement.

“I found the perfect book! I found the perfect book! Let’s go!”

We quickly made our way to the library where Parker immediately picked up the perfect book. It’s called Rules. His teacher read it to the class and Parker loved it. When he saw it on his class’s tour of the book fair today, he had to have it. The only other book he was interested in was a fluffy book that he knew didn’t fit my criteria of a quality book. So he didn’t even ask. He did point it out and said he knew I wouldn’t let him have it. Then we had to find the perfect book for Gwen.

She mentioned a new Fancy Nancy book. That’s what I wanted for her. She picked up every pop icon book, including books that were nothing more than cardboard made to look like a book but really they were selling a toy. Like the Doc McStuffin’s stethoscope “book.” It took a second for her to realize her choices were the Fancy Nancy quality picture book or a chapter book. We were bummed that the only Junie B. Jones books were sold in a large pack for $65. Um no.

There was one Junie B. Jones Thanksgiving book. She didn’t seem too interested. So I talked her into the Fancy Nancy book. There were also Fancy Nancy chapter books but I’m not ready for her to grow up yet. I have seen those chapter books and they are too far above Gwen’s reading level. The Junie B. Jones books are too advanced for Gwen but they are about a little girl who is the same age. It keeps Gwen interested enough to try reading. I think we’ll graduate to Fancy Nancy chapter books when Gwen is in second grade.

I feel good about enabling my children’s love for new things. They picked out some good books that I’m happy to squeeze onto our already stuffed shelves. I love that my kids are getting older. It’s a little sad but they are so much fun to talk to! They understand subjects I don’t know and they love learning. I love that Gavin has to teach me things as part of his science homework. It’s good for both of us. Reading is definitely fun to share with my kids. I hope they always have a thirst for knowledge.


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