Living Creation

I Canyon, Can You?

2012-01-30T22:54:00.000-08:00

Here is how you know you are hiking on slick rock. It takes as much time and effort to go down as it does to go up. And the shortest route between 2 points is never a straight line.
Here is how you know you are hiking slick rock in Canyonlands National Park. Every step is worth it because each step brings stunning views.
That said, I am very glad we didn't go there until Thursday, because as of Wednesday I did not yet have enough strength.
When I found out that Mike was arranging to go with me to visit friends in Utah, and he suggested we stop at Canyonlands on the way and watch the sunrise through Mesa Arch, I decided I would try to increase my walking each day up to 3 miles. Mesa Arch trail is less than a mile.
Then Mike told me about other places in Canyonlands. False Kiva trail is about 3 1/2 miles. Horseshoe Canyon Trail to the huge pictographs, Mike thought it was about 6 miles.
Mike has been to all of these places, but I still am a bit skeptical when he says it is a slight climb, or it is only a few miles. I learned this when he always would say something is not very spicy so I would taste it and then have to spend 20 minutes quenching the inferno in my mouth. In other words, a hike that is easy for him might be easy for me, or it might require every bit of effort I can muster.
So I looked at the official description of these hikes. I had to take Mike's word for it on the False Kiva since it is not an official trail. Park Rangers will disavow any knowledge of it.
I felt ready to do Mesa Arch at sunrise, and then do the False Kiva, but I didn't think I would be able to then do Horseshoe Canyon after that.

Mesa Arch at sunrise.

We stayed in Moab and got to Mesa Arch before sunrise. There was one photographer there before us. Getting photos of slick rock formation vistas at sunrise and sunset is a big deal. He and Mike started talking about what they had photographed in the parks and the number of their megapixels and comparing the sizes of their cameras and so on. I found a place to perch next to the arch and enjoyed the view, which changes each second as the sun rises.
Then, as the sun came into view, it was so still and quiet.
Perfect.
Then there were more photographers, and tourists to come and enjoy it, and we were ready to go.

View from False Kiva

Then we went to False Kiva. It was another stunning view. And the hike was the way Mike described it. It was about 3+ miles. We walked through a wash on a plateau, then an easy descent down a cliff face below and to the other side of an alcove, then back up into the alcove to find these native structures that are centuries old. But the best part is the view.
By the way, the photo can't do it justice.
Then we went on a short, less-than-a-mile hike to the huge Salt Upheaval Dome. Very dramatic and also as Mike described.
After that, I was ready to believe that Mike was describing these hikes with some degree of accuracy.
When I continued to feel strong and able to be active over the next few days, I suggested that we might try to do the Horseshoe Canyon hike on the way home. I have wanted to see those amazing pictographs for over 15 years. And I thought if I could do 5 miles of hiking that first day, with some descent and some climbing, I should be able to do 6 miles a few days later after doing more hikes and riding the tandem.
Big mistake.
It is easy to forget that even as I am getting stronger, I need to give my body a rest day every once in a while. It's easy to forget that even if Mike remembers some hikes well, his memory of conditions on another could be way off. It's easy to forget how quickly it gets dark at this time of year. It's easy to forget how exhausting it is to hike slick rock in the dark.
Our day became memorable because of all the things we forgot.
It was a gorgeous day and a beautiful drive to the trailhead. I was reading all kinds of information about the pictographs of the canyon and the experts saying these were ceremonial and religious. I think some were, especially these Horseshoe Canyon images that suggest visitations of divine beings. But any mother of kids who love to paint knows that some of these might have been done by energetic kids and adolescents who were seeking a creative outlet. How could they resist rigging up a tall ladder and displaying their stylistic talents with family portraiture on those dramatic canyon walls?

Each thing I read gave a different estimation of the hiking distance, all over 6 miles. I got a little concerned, but also more excited to see the images.
By the time we got started on the trail, it was past three. The sun will set at 5:30. We didn't think about that. We were about 1/2 a mile into the hike, and I was thinking we will turn a corner and be at the canyon floor since Mike said it was a slight descent, but then I got my first glimpse of the full view down to the canyon. We had a long way to go just to get to the bottom. Then a long walk to get to the best pictographs. I should have aborted the mission right then. But I didn't.
Another big mistake.
We did make it to the end of the canyon before dark. The pictographs were better than I could imagine. But by then my feet and knees were really hurting, and so were my incisions. I wondered how I could feel so wiped out if we had only gone 3 miles. And I was wondering how we were going to get out of there.
It got dark soon after we started back. Mike found a walking stick for me and tried to light the way with his small flash light. But it was harder than I thought it would be and it seemed to never end. Mike practically hauled me out of there. Even with the best equipment and conditions, it is not a good idea to climb out of a canyon in the dark.
I was so glad to see the car. It was late by the time we got to Green River and most food places were closing. I was so hungry by then I was even willing to get a sandwich at Arby's.

Another big mistake.
The canyon is well worth the trip. The pictographs are stunning, some are over 7 feet tall. But I suggest going in the morning with plenty of time and energy. This time Mike took his GPS so he would have an accurate mileage reading. So for future reference, the "slight descent" is over 1 1/4 miles, then it it 3 more miles along the canyon floor to get to all the sites. Total...8 1/2 miles.
I think I will take more than one day of rest this week.

I'm Out of Estrogen, and I've Got A Gun

2012-01-20T22:30:00.000-08:00

Okay, the first part of the title is true, the second part isn't. I don't have a gun. Don't want one.
So the next stage of cancer treatment has begun. I mentioned in a past blog post that there is this amazing test that can determine the genetic makeup of the tumor, and all kinds of details about it, including what it likes to eat. This tumor fed on estrogen, ate it all the time, liked to consume it even more than I like to consume fine chocolate.
Obviously beneficial treatments are surgery to remove the tumor - done - and radiation treatment to kill off cancer cells in the tumor area - done. Now we get into a statistical wilderness. I might be in the 84% of women who have this kind of tumor and this kind of treatment who will not have a recurrence in 5 years even with no further treatment. Or I might be in the 16% of women who will have a recurrence unless I do further treatment.
More tests, more scans, more discussions with doctors, more questions, more prayers. Any follow-up option includes being on medication for 5 years. The one that is most effective is considered a long term chemotherapy that would shut down estrogen production from my adrenal gland. That combined with surgery to remove my ovaries would shut down the cancer food source and starve any remaining cancer cells. So when I gather all this in and learn about all the possible horrific side effects, and find out that this will lower the chance of recurrence to 6%, I must admit to having some "My Brain is Melting!" moments.
I considered just risking a recurrence, but I found out that when cancer recurs, it does so with major attitude. It comes back with a vengeance. I would have a better chance surviving a whole new cancer than a recurring one.
Several times a day I meditate and pray for strength and guidance. I have learned to be open to that coming in any possible way. While I was trying to process all this information and make some choices, I was meeting new patients at treatments each day, and they would share their journey with me. One amazingly positive woman is on her 48th round of chemo. Another woman is dealing with her second recurrence. This is taking on life in the trenches. Then I woke up one morning and realized that if taking on this next stage of treatment will give me even one more day with Mike, and with my kids, it is worth it.
I had the surgery 2 weeks ago, and started on the medication the next day. Unlike easing into menopause, this is like taking a high dive off a cliff. The worst side effects might take a while. Since I am healthy, and more active as my strength returns, I am hoping things won't be severe. For now, instead of hot flashes, I seem to be having extremely warm spells. If suddenly feeling like the world is going to end and sobbing uncontrollably for 2 minutes, then feeling fine again counts as a mood swing, I've had a few of those.
Poor Mike.
My current mantra is "There are worse things". I need to remember to just say it to myself. I think I said it to others too often when there were 30 of us gathered at my mom's house for Christmas and anyone happened to complain about anything. Oh well, with family it's all relative.
That was a "Mommy Joke".
Anyway, I hope I can learn to be as patient with others as people are being with me. I have come to learn that everyone is waging their own battle.
If I act weird for the next few years, this is just one of the fierce battles I am waging.
And I promise I won't get a gun.

I Am Glow-In-The-Dark Radiant

2011-10-31T20:55:00.000-07:00

Almost exactly to the minute two weeks ago I heard the results of the Onco-type pathology which tests the genetic make-up of the tumor. I didn't know tumors had their own genetic make-up, but apparently they do.
The results of that test determined that I will not need chemotherapy. I won't even try to describe to you how relieved I was to hear that.
I started radiation treatments the next day. As of this morning, I have now completed 10 treatments, with 25 more to go. Mike says that I glow in the dark.
Now let me back up a little.
3 weeks ago my children did the most wonderful thing possible. They all came home. All as in our son, both daughters and our son-in-law. They did yard work, and house work. They even cleaned their rooms.
I would have been thrilled with just a visit.
Every time I went out and picked up a tool, my son-in-law scolded me to put it down. My daughters made me sit and sort through things. Then they hauled loads to the dump, and to Goodwill. And it was great having all 4 of them with us at the dinner table. That has never happened since the wedding or before, and who knows when it will happen again, so I enjoyed every moment.
Mike had to go on a quick business trip, so I asked the kids to go with me to the radiation mapping session. That is when you lie down on a skinny metal slab while they take all kinds of x-rays and measure the exact area that will get radiation. Then they tattoo several dots on you so they will always be able to line you up for each treatment. Even though the kids couldn't be in the room for that, I wanted them to see the place where I was being treated, and all the ways the building and the people work to promote healing.
The girls were able to come in with me for the exam, meet my doctor and ask questions. He took all the time they needed to answer concerns, give advice, and tell them about my case. I appreciate his efforts to point us all in a positive direction. During the 40 minute mapping session, after he and the nurse got me set up on the slab, he said, "Okay, close your eyes and go to your happy place while we do the work."
Uh huh, sure.
It was a nice thought, but even with the nice pictures of trees and sky on the ceiling, it was hard to forget that I was having to lie still on a metal slab while a radiation machine moved around me.
After that, I showed the kids the beautiful waiting room for radiation patients, and the connecting enclosed serenity garden, and they met some of the people there who want to do all that can be done to make this turn out the best way possible.
I think it was good for them to see this place, and helpful to have a better idea as to how things will go, and where it will happen. But I remember how I felt when I would help care for Dad when he was being treated, so I can only imagine what was going through their minds. I guess they were probably thinking that no matter how nice it looks, and how great the people are, this is where my mother is coming because she has cancer, and cancer means that things might never be the same.
It was great to have them here. I needed at least one more week, but I'll take what I can get. Anna said she had to pull the C card to be able to come. One of her professors wanted her working on a project during her Fall break, but she told him she was going to help her mom who had cancer. I told her she could pull the C card any time she wanted, as long as it would make it so she could come and see me.
Now I go to radiation treatment every morning, Monday through Friday. Here is an extremely over simplified version of how radiation works. The waves are directed to the area surrounding the tumor location. They cause all of the cells to lose the ability to regenerate. Normal cells recover from that fairly quickly, but cancer cells explode. Then the dead cells are carried out by white blood cells. That explains the exhaustion. My good cells are working overtime to regenerate, or to carry away the dead cancer cell garbage.
I apply special cream 4 times a day to prevent burns. I deal with being tired all the time, and go on long walks to get my heart going for physical reasons and not just for emotional ones. I don't panic when I can't retrieve thoughts (Mike calls it "radiation brain"). I let so many people around me bear me up.
When I am on that slab I think about the waves going through me zapping the cancer cells. I think about how insidious this cancer is. It is not as straight forward as having surgery that cuts it out, and pathology that shows the margins and lymph nodes are clean. There could be cells out there beyond that, and who knows where they are. Because even with all that can be done, there is still the possibility of recurrence. I am shooting for zero with that.
I am grateful for the example of my friend (see the last blog entry below). I have learned from her to do all that can be done, learn all that can be learned, surround myself with people who do the same, then hope, pray and have faith for the rest.
And through it all, enjoy the miracle of being surrounded by love.

This Amazing Not Fair Life

2011-10-28T22:15:00.000-07:00

You know when you have a friend that makes you feel like you won the lottery every time you are around her? And even if you are only able to see her for a few hours, a few times a year, and even if you have only known her for 3 years, you feel joy each time you think of her.
And you are so amazed at the joy and courage that radiates from her, even as she battles ovarian cancer. And you love the idea that she is a part of your life so much, that her name is in every personal prayer you offer, and you write it every time you go to the temple.
And when you find out you have cancer, she and her wonderful husband send you messages of hope, sharing their experiences of the miracles they have experienced, and the love that has grown as she battled this cancer over the last 4 years, without letting you know that her cancer has returned and invaded her whole body.
Yes, I have a friend like that. It would not surprise me if thousands of people could say the same thing about her.
She died this morning.
Life is not fair.
I only became aware yesterday that her children and grandchildren were there with her and her husband to have every moment with her before she had to let go of them and move on.
It was 10 years ago when I was there with my siblings and Mom in the last months, then days, then moments of Dad's life.
Nothing can make it fair when a wonderful parent and partner is gone from family far too soon.
Life really is not fair.
10 years ago, after Dad died, I lived that thought for a while. About 6 months. I didn't sleep. I felt crummy. I was quick to get upset at anyone around.
Yeah, life with me was a real joy.
Then, in what I consider a moment of divine grace, I was able to see how blessed I was to have had such a person as my dad.
Life is really amazing.
Not a day goes by where I do not miss Dad, often so much that it hurts. And when I think of the amazing life I have because he was my dad, then all that is great about him comes to me.
So I am grateful for this life where I get to have such a father as my dad, and I get to have such a friend as Robyn.
So my thoughts and prayers are with her family. I hope and believe they also embrace the blessing of their wife and mother.
In that gratitude, love is stronger than death.
And cancer will never win.

I'm Blue...And Tickled Pink

2011-10-02T18:55:00.000-07:00

There are phrases I do not want to hear used in the same sentence, especially when said by certain people. For instance... I would never want to hear a police officer use the phrases "Your child" and "missing for a week" in the same sentence.
So when one of my doctors used the phrases "nuclear lab", "radioactive fluid" and "injected to trace your lymph nodes" all in one sentence, that went to the top of my Do Not Want To Hear list. But I'm sure something else will come along to knock it off the #1 spot.
Just to let you know, the next paragraph or two might be too much information. Feel free to skip it. Wish I could.
So, a couple of days ago, a few hours before surgery they wheeled me from pre-op to the nuclear lab. For some silly reason they did not let Mike come in there with me. They explained the whole procedure again. The fluid would be injected and given time to flow from the tumor to the related lymph nodes. My surgeon would use a type of geiger counter to track those nodes and remove them, then remove the tumor.
Okay, got that. I will just work on my cleansing breaths until you're done.
And the radiologist was amazing. She was so careful, she was done quicker and with less pain than I expected.
Then the nurse went over the logistics with me. She gave me a certificate explaining the procedure and said I would need it if I had to go through any metal detector or screening process in the next three days, since I would set them off. She said, "You're hot. I know your husband already thinks you're hot. Now you really are, as in radioactive."
The fluid is blue, and I could see it showing up just below the skin. Mike calls it Spidey juice, and said it should give me super powers. Is it a super power if I can set off a metal detector alarm? I would rather be able to fly. But for a few days, I got to be a blue blood.
By the way, when you are going through all this, you can get as many heated blankets as you want. That and the early pathology results saying the nodes and the tumor margins are clear were the best things about that day.
Did you know that October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month? Not that I need any reminders, but I do appreciate more than ever all the events and promotions. Who would have thought I might personally benefit from the research I had supported?
So Pink has become the color of my armor.
An anonymous friend gave me a bracelet with a pink awareness ribbon charm on it. My surgeon gave me a pink water bottle. The hospital gave me a very soft pink robe.
Then the best came yesterday. Two little angels who live in my neighborhood came over with a pink wrist band, a pink cake with very pink frosting decorated with an awareness ribbon and hearts (they made it themselves, with some help from Mom), and........A BRIGHT PINK FEATHER BOA!
It tickles my neck.
I know I can handle anything when I wear it.

You Outta Be In Pictures

2011-09-22T18:51:00.000-07:00

I am working on another entry about Nauvoo, but I wanted to post this short one about the ride. So pardon the interruption.
This is a long, tough ride. Mike and Brad are feeling the effects, especially since they rode for several hours in the pouring, drenching, very heavy rain yesterday before it finally cleared up. I got exhausted just driving through it, thinking about them trying to ride their bikes on roads that were solid ponds of water.
That being said, the farm roads and historic highways of the midwest are stunning. I feel like I am riding through locations for movies I have seen. There is Field of Dreams, or It Happened One Night, or Friendly Persuasion. The sunsets remind me of one of my favorite things about living in Minnesota years ago. The little towns that have been proudly preserved are like the historic parts of Philadelphia, without the crowds.
Today, Mike and Brad were able to do part of the ride on a bike path that has been created along a river. It led to the longest covered bridge in the state of Ohio. It is probably longer than 200 yards. It is on the Mohican path, and can only be accessed on foot, horseback, bicycle or buggy.
Yes, I said buggy. We are in Amish country, where even Walmart has a section in the parking lot for buggies.
We made our way along the path to the covered bridge, and Mike and Brad cycled through it while I waited on one side. While I was there, a horse drawn buggy with a family came up the path to the bridge. Sam barked at the horse while I held him back, but they all smiled and waved at us while they passed and rode through the bridge past the others on the other side.
For a moment, Mike wasn't tired or sore. He was just thrilled with the whole experience.
Ahh, real life.
Better than the movies.

Gearing Up

2011-09-19T14:50:00.000-07:00

I am writing this while sitting by a huge cornfield in Illinois. I am reminded of what my curly hair does when it is 99% humidity outside. And for several hundred miles I have seen field after field of corn or soy beans. Isn’t anything else grown in the midwest?

Anyway…

Mike and his brother are doing the Nauvoo to Kirtland Temple to Temple Ride. My doctor strongly recommended we go ahead with this ride, and I will have surgery two days after we get back. I have been going over the volumes of information she gave me, and I can see why she wants us to do what we can before the surgery. So much will change afterwards, and since we know part of that will include at least 7 weeks of radiation, and I won’t be able to leave town during that time, and Mike needs to be recharged, prepped, energized, geared up and fortified with more than 47 vitamins and minerals in order to hang in there through this with me, going ahead with this planned trip was important.

I’m enjoying this, too.

We were able to drive to Missouri and see some church history sites around there before picking up Brad in St. Louis. Then we went on to Nauvoo. This is the first time we have been there since the Nauvoo temple was rebuilt. I will write more about that in the next blog.

It has been nice seeing Mike and Brad doing this ride together. We have not lived near Brad since we were in college, so it has only been short visits at reunions and during travels for 25+ years. This is a rare chance for them to spend time together.

Like any two siblings, they have much in common, and they are also completely different from each other. So this is interesting for me to see the dynamics.

When I periodically pass them on these farm roads, I like seeing them in active conversation, sharing their thoughts and experiences as they ride through this beautiful countryside. They are catching up on all their childhood to middle age stories.

When we sit down for dinner each night, and the conversation goes in all directions, I can tell when Mike is either just relaxing and enjoying it, or keeping his opinion to himself so everything stays relaxing and enjoyable.

Each also brings a different physical experience to this ride as well.

Brad lives at sea level. When they go up a slight hill, he can feel the air thinning.

We live at 6000 feet. Mike is feeling like he has to chew each time he breathes in, the air is so thick. When we were driving over the state line from Colorado to Kansas there was a sign that said that was the highest point in Kansas at 4039 feet. It’s been downhill since then.

Brad is in good shape, but has not been riding a bike as much as Mike. So they stick together and Brad drafts off of Mike. But several times a day Mike has to stop and be on a business call. Brad will keep riding to get ahead for a while. When Mike is done he “time trials it” until he catches up, and he loves that. I love that crazy man of mine.

I think of what it would be like to have this much time with just one sister at a time, or my brother, doing something that we both really wanted to do. Or just having time together. What an unusual and precious experience that could be.

I am glad Mike is doing this. He is covering a long road this week.

The much longer road starts next week.

"C" Is For Cookie, That's Good Enough For Me

2011-09-02T09:06:00.000-07:00

Today is brought to you by the letter "C".
C is for Compassion and Courage.
Thanks to all of you, for everything.
I am overwhelmed. So many people sending cards and messages, sharing their own journeys, fasting and praying with us, leaving homemade cookies, soup, fresh picking from their gardens, listening, answering questions, and so much more. I knew of a number of women who are cancer survivors, now I know of many more. Some of them are very private, but they have generously and courageously told me of their experiences, let me ask many very personal questions, and helped me have more information about what is ahead.
Every time I go somewhere, when I return there is something on my doorstep. Handmade cards, drawings from children I know, nourishing foods, special treats. The other day, 10 people from church showed up to help us finish a yard project. It all lightens the load, and lets Mike and I have our strength for what cannot be handed to someone else.
I debated sharing this whole experience with others. But I remembered how much I want to help when those I know are carrying burdens. I need to take this beyond a concept, and let it be the way I live.
And I feel the thoughts and prayers of others working on me.

C is for Care, as in the Red Rocks Cancer Care Center.
I guess timing really is everything. Apparently, this tumor probably started growing about 8 to 10 years ago. I felt it a few months ago because fibrous tissue grew over it. This new cancer center was opened a few months ago. I have met with several of the specialists there, and I am amazed. They took all the time needed to go over every scan, test and report, every option, every part of my life that will impact the healing. My surgeon is not just looking at her part in removing the tumor, my radiation oncologist is not just looking at his part in therapy. They are helping Mike and I form a team with them to overcome and kill the thing that is trying to kill me. And they want me to come through it healed and stronger than ever.
After Dad died, there were people who had worked with him who told us how he was one of the few bosses or teachers they had who would pray with them and for them, and who would hug them. I can now say that I have doctors who pray for me, accept prayers for their own guidance, and who hug me.

C is for Comedy. This is not only from my sisters, it is now officially doctor's orders. So I look for ways to endure with joy. I will take surface level humor as well.
I could go with pop culture, such as the line from "The Devil Wears Prada"..."I'm only one stomach flu away from my goal weight." Maybe I am only one treatment away from my goal weight.
If you need some great humor around this subject, go to youtube and search for Jack Black Mammogram.
This is also a good time to see what kinds of crazy head pieces my artist siblings will make for me, even though (at least for now and I hope never) there is no chemo planned.

C is for Chocolate. The really good kind. I think there should be a clinical trial on the healing properties of fine chocolate. Sign me up for that one.

C is for Cheese, as in "Do you want some cheese with that whine?" Please ask me that if I ever do. Whine that is.

C is for Choice.
Since this is early detection, I still have some choice in some aspects of my treatment. So if you are wondering how important it is to get regular screenings, check-ups and do self-examination, stop wondering. It horrifies me to think how little choice I would have otherwise.
And I always have a choice in how I live. So I choose my life, and every part of it, including the cancer. This is part of my journey, and I am blessed with a wonderful life journey.
Besides that, if I gripe about not wanting this life, and complaining that things should be different, it is exhausting, boring, and makes me unbearable to be around. I'd rather not be alone right now.
Michael told me yesterday that when he gave me a blessing the night before the biopsy, he knew it was cancer, but that we would make it through this together. That is when I knew that he had chosen to make this his battle, as much as mine.
This is how powerful choice is. A few days ago I had an MRI. I had to lie on my stomach, my face laying in an uncomfortable cutout, my hands over my head, not moving for 40 minutes. The physical discomfort was there but not extreme. The mental and emotional strain of thinking about why I was there, and what the scan might show is overwhelming. Mike had talked the technicians into letting him be in the room, holding my hand the whole time. Even though we couldn't talk to each other, he would squeeze my hand every minute or so. This is our battle. And each time I would feel overwhelmed I would think of all the people praying for me, and God's awareness of each of us, knowing us by name. I felt unseen hands placed gently all over my back and legs, easing the tension and worry.
That is the journey I choose.

The Big "C"

2011-08-24T19:37:00.000-07:00

So much can change in a second, even if the days leading up to that second seem to take forever.

A few months ago I felt a lump in my breast. It didn’t change, so I went in to have my doctor check it. Within the week, I was having the diagnostic mammogram and ultrasound she had ordered. Within moments of that, they told me I needed to return for an ultrasound guided needle biopsy (yes, it is as bad as it sounds).

Now, here is the part that I don’t understand. They scheduled my biopsy 12 days away. 12 days! Plenty of time to worry and wonder and imagine what kind of things are growing out of control in my body. They said there was not an opening any sooner.

My brother-in-law is a brilliant radiologist in Salt Lake City. I talked to him about this and he was apalled the biopsy was scheduled that far out. His team has worked hard to make sure they can schedule the biopsy within a day of the diagnostic, and they are very busy as well. It takes effort, but it can be done.

This is one thing I am willing to make a fuss about. So far it has resulted in an inquiry about changing things.

But my biopsy was still 12 days out. A very long, stressful 12 days.

That part came to an end yesterday. The biopsy was in the morning. They told me I would get the results today at three. Those 30 hours dragged like the previous 12 days.

When my doctor called, even as she was saying it, I wondered if there was a class in medical school about leading a conversation to the point where you say, “Your biopsy is positive for breast cancer.”

So time has shifted again.

I give myself my moments of falling apart. But there is so much love and support. Within moments of setting up an appointment with a surgeon, and holding onto Mike for a while, and sending an email to friends and family, one of those friends was at the door with homemade frozen strawberry jam, telling me she would go through it in my place if she could. And I believe her.

There were immediate expressions of love, support and prayers through email.

This is what we do, as family, friends, Mormons, women.

It will be hard, but it will be okay. As my brilliant brother-in-law said, “Years from now, you will be in the survivor’s group at a Race For The Cure event, and this will just be something in your past.”

Surrounded by love, I can handle anything. I am so blessed.

And “C” is just a letter in the alphabet.

The Long And Winding Road

2011-07-28T16:27:00.000-07:00

We are home and trying to get back into regular life. Mike has told me several times how much he misses riding his bike 100+ miles a day, especially when the ride is through stunning scenery. We made it through the week with no crashes or serious injuries, meeting many interesting people, seeing so much wildlife and some of the most beautiful places in the world. There is a mention of the ride in the Deseret News.
Here is a rundown of superlatives, moments, memory keepers...

Friday, July 15th - Provo to Salt Lake on the Tandem. Mom was there to see us off at the Provo Temple. Everyone else was sleeping in after dressing in costumes and going to the midnight showing of the final Harry Potter movie. One of my sisters looked exactly like Bellatrix, another exactly like Trelawney. But Mike and I were ready to go early in the morning. We geared up to self support. The weather was perfect, and we made good progress to Mount Timpanogos, up over Eagle Ridge to Draper, and west to Oquirrh Mountain. That was when I wondered if we made every single red light across the valley. We spent more time waiting at lights than riding the bike. When we headed toward the Jordan River Temple we changed the route and found some residential roads with no lights. Our first real interruption came after leaving Jordan River when I was stung by a wasp. After a short break we continued. Charlotte and Reed met us at the cemetery with cold water. I realized what a difference it makes to have support. We rested and visited by Dad's grave. I had been drinking plenty of water, but did not want to eat more than an apple. I (with the metabolism of a slug) can't stand all the energy goop Mike (with his race horse metabolism) fuels himself with. We were doing the final climb to "This is the Place Park" when I said, "I feel strange" and "Whose idea was this?" and "Why are we doing this?". Mike made me sit down on the lawn in front of the house where my grandparents used to live and eat a whole granola bar, every bite, even though I didn't want to. I think Charlotte got a kick out of that. I felt better after that. At the park I told Charlotte about visiting the monument each time we would come to Salt Lake to visit family when I was a child. My grandpa would lift me up so I could climb on the statues, and he would point out which figures were our ancestors. Then we coasted all the way down to the Salt Lake Temple. It was nice to sit by the reflecting pool, talk about the memories and connections we have with this temple, and watch so many people visiting this place. Most of them did not speak english, but managed to communicate when we offered to take their pictures for them. Then we biked to Charlotte and Reed's place where they fed us and helped us recover. A good day.

Highlights - having Charlotte and Reed support us the last few miles, and cooling off with the water from the temple reflecting pool.
Saturday, July 16th - Salt Lake to Logan. Harry and Nef met us at the Salt Lake Temple to ride with Mike. Amy and Anne saw them off with me and Amy joined me in the support vehicle. Joel met Mike to join the ride within a few blocks. At the Bountiful Temple, we met a group of young women who were driving to as many temples as they could. They got a kick out of seeing the bikers ride up the same road they had driven.
In Layton we went past the house we had lived in and restored for 13 years. The family who has it now has done wonderful additions to it. They let us go in and look at what they had done. It was nice to see such a home in the hands of people who love it so much.
The Ogden Temple was a construction zone, Brigham City Temple is taking shape. We sat next to the irrigation ditch across the street and cooled off while remembering wading in irrigation ditches when visiting grandparents. Mike was born here, and we wondered where that hospital was.
Once the bikers had made it to the top of Sardine Canyon, and refilled with cold water, they blasted past us at the next support stop calling out, "See you at the temple!" Logan Temple was closed for maintenance, but some of the grounds workers let us in for a picture. It was nice having the place to ourselves. We talked about this temple and this place. My dad was born here.

Highlight - Our dear friend Nef telling us that he was dedicating his ride to his cousin who had recently died. He was only in his 40's, had a young family, was healthy, but cancer had taken this good man. I like seeing people deal with loss in positive ways.
Monday, July 18th - Logan. Mike Perdue and Mark Bolton, along with Juanita Bolton, son Trevor and friend Wyatt, met us at the temple for an early start. It was a beautiful morning. When I stopped at a store to pick up supplies, the clerk there asked me about my Temple to temple jersey. Then shared with me several amazing experiences she and her family had had at some of the temples. A little moment of grace.
We met up in Preston where Juanita and the kids enjoyed looking for Napoleon Dynamite souvenirs. Wherever we stopped, the kids would find a way to have a great time. It was fun to see them play. The Boltons had their RV, so we always had a place to set up to make lunch.
We drove and rode through National Forests, green valleys and historic towns. It was nice to be out of the cities and in gorgeous country. I drove a little way off the route to Paris, Idaho to see the historic tabernacle there. It was built by a shipbuilder that had emigrated from Europe 150+ years ago. It is nice to see the pride these little towns have in their historic buildings.
As the day went on, the bikers got further apart, and we had no cell phone coverage. I was trying to shuttle over 20 miles between Mike and the others. At one point, Mike was out of water and waiting for me at Salt River Pass. He went up to an RV that was parked there and asked for some water. They were some kind Norwegian tourists who insisted he take 2 bottles of cold water. I got there a few minutes later and he took some time to rehydrate. With support the other two made it to the pass. It was a beautiful place to end the ride for the day.
We had to keep a close eye on one of the bikers who was not recovering well. But he was better by morning.

Tuesday, July 19th - Afton, Wyoming to Jackson. Mike enjoyed riding Trevor's bike while we finished breakfast. I think the bikers were glad with the way today started, 15 miles coasting downhill. Riding through Star Valley and then along the Snake River was stunning. It was greener than I have ever seen, and the river was high and dramatic. Everyone did well, and we made it to Hoback Junction, where the Boltons and Perdues (Michele and daughter Tana joined us here) were camping, in good time. Mike decided to keep riding his bike on to Teton Village to where we were staying in a hostel. I went ahead, checked in and unloaded in time to walk out and greet Mike as he came in on the bike path. This is a beautiful place at the south end of Grand Teton National Park. 5 minutes after Mike got there, a furious storm hit with stinging rain blowing sideways. Nice timing.

Highlight - Talking with a woman in Afton whose sister organizes biking events, and will teach us how to get sponsors and raise money for humanitarian causes. Several people have asked if we were raising money for something. I think it's a great idea, so I will work on that with anyone who is willing to help me.
Another highlight was coming into view of the Tetons and the stunning cloud formations over them.
Wednesday, July 20 - Jackson to Yellowstone. Since Mike loves riding through this country, he rode into Jackson to meet the others for breakfast, then back out with them to ride through Teton Village into the Park. At the park entrance, we put all the bikes on the rack, and the three riders crammed into the car until I rode into the park. It was quite a feat.

Grand Teton is beautiful, and we soon learned to avoid the crowds. An amazing thing about this park is that the perspective and view of the range changes with each mile. So as I was stopping every few miles to support the riders, I was seeing new angles of canyons, peaks, snow fields and lakes.
After leaving Teton, I was waiting for Mike at the entrance to Yellowstone so I could drive him in. A motorcycle club drove into the pull out to take pictures. They all went nuts over our dog Sam. They were fussing over him and giving him treats and talking about their dogs and how rescued dogs are the best. Sam was loving it, until they got on their motorcycles and started them up, then Sam wanted to eat the tires.

Mike and Mike both got there for me to drive them into the park. Just inside the park the Mikes went swimming under some falls next to the road. It refreshed them for the final climb and 22 miles to West Thumb. After we all met up there, we split up for the night. Mike and I were staying at West Yellowstone. Unfortunately, the Boltons and Perdues had no cell reception so we were hoping we would somehow know where to find each other the next day.
Can I just say how glad I am that Mike really wanted to get a hotel room with a full bath rather than camp out after a long ride.
Thursday, July 21 - Rest Day. We were hoping to see some of Yellowstone, leave Sam in the air conditioned RV while we rode the tandem for a few hours, then see more of Yellowstone. We were able to see many sites on the Grand Loop, including elk, bison, moose and bears, but were not able to meet up with the others, so there was no way to leave Sam. We finally found the others when we were waiting for Old Faithful to be faithful. After dinner, and arranging to meet in the morning, and seeing Old Faithful do its thing, we walked the geyser trail as the Sun set. The mosquitos tried to carry us away, but it was beautiful seeing all the geysers. As we drove back out of the park, we saw a wolf, and a herd of bison walking down the middle of the road, with a police escort. Good night, World.

Friday, July 22 - Yellowstone to Cooke City, Montana. Today would have been Dad's 78th birthday. He has been gone now for 10 years and I miss him more all the time. We continue to add things to his website EugeneEngland.org and I dedicate my part of this Temple to Temple Ride to him and the difference he made in the world.
Each day just gets more beautiful. Driving into the park as the sun rose, steam was rising off the river which had been heated by the hot geyser water that flowed into it. We saw a mother elk and her tiny calf next to the road, with steam rising behind her. As we drove by middle basin, a large geyser erupted and poured into the stream. Maybe Dad was saying hi.
Soon after the bikers met up and started, I drove ahead. There in the middle of the road was a huge bison, slowly walking forward. I passed it and pulled off to get a photo of Mike passing it. But he rode by me as I got out of the car, pausing with a huge grin on his face and saying, "Wow that's cool!" before taking off. I was able to get a photo of Mike Perdue with the bison. At one of the viewpoints I was able to see a mother grizzly and 2 cubs playing in a meadow next to a bison herd.

When I was waiting for them at Dunhaven Pass, I met some retired couples who were riding their bicycles through the park, carrying all their gear with them. These couples were definitely enjoying their 70's. They would sing as they were riding to keep the wolves and bears away, since we could see bear sign all along the road.
After lunch we were on the road in the northeast corner of the park. This is where there are the fewest people, and the most bears and wolves. At one viewpoint, I stopped to looked at a huge herd of bison, hundreds spread over a long distance. Then I noticed a large grizzly in a meadow next to a bunch of mothers with calves. As it got closer to the calves, the mothers ran them off and a number of male bison moved to surround the grizzly. It was fascinating to see him try to get through them and there was a skirmish before I drove off. It was a great National Geographic moment, but I was a bit worried about the guys riding their bikes on this lonely road with bears around.
Most terrifying moment - after seeing Mike just before he left the park, we agreed he would wait for us at Cooke City. There the three bikers could decide how much further they would ride today. After checking on the others and going back to the little town, I could not find him. I went back and forth, in and out of town before seeing him in front of one of the cafes there. It was an emotional day anyway, thinking of Dad and how much he would love all this. But that part was not fun.
After they rode 15 more miles to a great waterfall, we drove to a cabin that a friend was loaning us. There were bear tracks around the cabin, and a large fox that would boldly come up to us because the neighbor fed it. So we decided to keep Sam inside.
An amazing day, with much to be grateful for. Happy Birthday, Dad.

Final day. Saturday, July 23rd - Beartooth Pass to Billings, Montana. In every direction we saw different dramatic mountain ranges. Several times I heard the guys say, "I can't imagine it getting more spectacular, and each day it does." The 27 mile climb to Beartooth Pass went up through forests, rocky gorges, waterfalls, alpine meadows, hundreds of lakes, then snowfields as the switchbacks got sharper. I missed seeing Mike at the pass, which is really a peak, and I was several miles down the other side before I turned around to look for him. He was at the top, shivering and waving me down. I made him stay in the car and thaw out before he started the descent. I got a picture of the Mikes looking down at the sharp descent. After a 20 mile descent, we met up for lunch at the bottom, and they had an almost 60 mile stretch of long flat road into Billings. I led them along the farm roads that skirted the city, and we got to the temple at 6 p.m. Since it was closed for maintenance, we had it to ourselves. It was a quiet ending to this epic ride in a beautiful setting.

Mike will be posting the route and other links at temple2temple.weebly.com
In the end, it was almost 700 miles of riding, and over 32,000 feet of climbing, taking us to 11 temples and many heritage sites, meeting many people who asked many questions and shared so much with us.
Come September, we will head to Nauvoo where Mike and his brother will bike from there to Kirtland, Ohio. I could say, "What a long strange trip it's been", but it really has been a great ride.
On to the next.

Wildlife on the Road

2011-07-21T08:11:00.000-07:00

The ride is going well. It is not going as planned, but it never does. The daily destination has shifted a little, but we are on track for Billings on Saturday.
We are in Yellowstone now. There are no temples here, at least not LDS temples. We have seen wildlife on the road, some of it being the elk and bison that belong here. Most of it being the large vehicles carelessly driven too fast through this gorgeous scenery.
And it has all been gorgeous. I have never seen Utah, Idaho and Wyoming so green.
There have been no crashes so far. At least not while riding the bikes. We had to carefully watch one of the bikers the other day when he didn't recover well from the day's ride. We were glad the local hospital was only a block away, and we were ready to use it, even though it was barely bigger than a house, and had a cat sitting in the window looking out at us. But we didn't need to. He is doing much better.
The biggest challenge has been coordinating support when the riders are far apart and we don't have cell phone reception. But we deal with it, and are grateful we are covering this distance with bikes and cars, not wagons and carts. Which reminds me, I only get spotty wireless, so this is the first chance I have had to connect. No big deal. I am sure your lives are continuing on just fine.
Here is my biggest challenge - It has been 6 days since my last ride. Since doing the Provo to Salt Lake ride on the tandem last Friday, I have been driving support, not riding a bike. Today we ride the tandem through Yellowstone.
That is my kind of wildlife on the road.

It's All Uphill From Here

2011-07-14T22:51:00.000-07:00

I've been doing longer and harder tandem rides with Mike lately. We got a newer tandem (only 11 years old) that is smoother to ride. I got some biking shorts with a padded chamois seat that was obviously designed by a woman for women. Thank you Pearl Izumi! And thank you Ebay for having them at a great price. Another product-that-must-have-been-designed-by-a-woman is Chamois Butter. This is crucial for women who are riding a bike for longer than 20 minutes. Remember, it goes on you and on the chamois seat. Enough said.
So Mike has helped me prepare for harder rides, and he knows when I am ready to take on the tough ones. July 2 we did "High Grade". The name says it all. It is long and steep. We planned a loop from our house that would go up a couple of climbs and in and out of some canyons before we got to High Grade Road. Then after we got to the summit of High Grade we would continue on to Evergreen and then down the canyon back to our house. 55 miles, ending on 15 miles of downhill. The hardest part would be over once we got to the top of High Grade.
A "friend" of Mike's told him to take an alternate road after High Grade that would get us to Evergreen with less traffic to deal with, so we planned on that.
High Grade was tough, but I was ready and hung in there. Mike was patient, and we made it to the top. We rested a bit and refueled. I felt good and was glad the hard part was over. We headed down the other side and made good time to get to the alternate road. Once we turned onto Blue Creek, I started feeling awful. I struggled to keep pedaling fast, I felt like we were pedaling through glue. I thought I was going to exhale a lung. After a while I gasped, "I have to stop. Something is wrong." I thought I was having a heart attack or some delayed reaction to a long climb.
We pulled over and I noticed Mike was gasping too. He said, "This is a 12% grade hill. That is why it is so hard. I didn't know this was a steep hill."
12 percent! I thought the hard climb was over. I was not mentally prepared for another steep climb after High Grade (which only has short sections that steep).
What kind of "friend" would suggest an alternate road like that?
He is off my "I think I will make some cookies and give some to our friends" list.
Anyway, we rested, braced ourselves, and made it up that hill. After a few more miles of rollers, we got to the downhill stretch home. Everyone passes the tandem on the uphill, but no one passes us on the downhill. It is long, stable and fast going downhill.
2 days later we rode up to Echo Lake over Juniper Pass at almost 12,000 feet. It was gorgeous.
Tomorrow we start the Temple to Temple Ride. We will leave from the Provo Temple at 7 a.m. on the tandem. 80 miles, 6 temples and maybe 6 hours later, after crossing Utah Valley and Salt Lake Valley, and climbing over into Draper, we will arrive at the Salt Lake Temple. After that I will drive the support car, and others will join us for hours or days or a week until we get to Billings.
Wave if you see us. We'll be the ones wearing the cool jerseys and enjoying the roller coaster ride.

Leggo My Ego...uh, I mean My Logo!

2011-06-19T22:10:00.000-07:00

So Mike asked me to design a log for the Temple to Temple Ride. He asked me to design one for the Temple to Temple 2 years ago. Now, I have seen many bicycling event jerseys, and most of them look like the cars in Nascar events. The names of sponsors and clip art images cover every inch of them. They serve a purpose. They can be viewed from any direction, and the sponsor's name will be seen.
It is rare to find a jersey that is memorable for its design. The only thing that might set one apart from another is the name of the sponsor. The cyclists I know don't seem too concerned about this, as long as the jersey fits, and wicks moisture away.
If I am going to design something, I don't want it to look like all the other jerseys. This is not just any bike ride. Two years ago, I designed something that would catch people's attention, that would get conversations going, that people would remember as different. When Mike showed it to the other riders, Mark and other Mike, there were suggestions for adding some other clip art elements. I told Mike that if they wanted to design the jersey, they could, and I would just take my design and go home.
No ego involved at all.
But here's the deal. You know what you get when a biker designs a jersey? You get a jersey that looks like it was designed by a biker.
They decided to use my design.
And, other than the colors not being what I ordered, it turned out okay. It got conversations going with people all along the way. It was also memorable. The other Mike was on a long bike ride the other day wearing that jersey. Some other bikers saw him and said, "Hey, didn't we see you two years ago when you were biking to Utah?" They remembered the jersey.
This time I had more notice, and have been working on sketches and designs for a while. I finally got the artwork the way I wanted it, scanned it into photoshop, and Mike helped me get it all ready to send to the jersey company. Under the main logo I listed all the temples Mike will be riding to, including the ones he will ride to this fall on a second epic ride this year. We emailed it to Mark and other Mike to see it.
A little background information...Four years ago mike was preparing to ride the Triple Bypass, a 120 mike event that goes over 3 mountain passes. He had registered and picked up his packet with the event jersey in it. A few weeks before the event he was in a bike race where another rider cut him off, he swerved and hit a box of water bottles, flew off and broke his collarbone. He was not able to ride the Triple on the day of the event. But he refused to wear the jersey until he had healed, and then ridden the entire course on another day. I know he rode the whole course because I followed in the car to support him. After that he wore the jersey proudly. I did not know this was a hard and fast rule for bikers - Thou shalt not wear the event jersey until you have ridden the event course. I just thought Mike was dealing with an undetected head injury and I was humoring him.
Apparently it is a hard and fast rule for bikers.
Mike, Mark and other Mike were concerned because I had listed all of the temples on the jersey design, but only Mike was going to be riding to all of the temples. The others needed to have only the temples they were riding to listed on their jerseys. And instead of saying Temple to Temple to Temple to Temple to Temple, they wanted theirs to just say Temple to Temple since they were just going from the Logan to the Billings Temple. I'm thinking, "Wait a minute. People wear concert tour t-shirts even if they haven't been to all the cities listed on the shirt. These guys are riding the longest part of the ride. What's the big deal?.....And besides, it will mess up the design. MY design."
Like I said, no ego involved at all.
Since the love of my life is into the whole Ride the Course So You Are Worthy of the Jersey thing, I was willing to compromise. Especially since he helped me with all the photoshopping. So each rider will get the jersey they will earn. I was going to be snarky and add some fine print at the bottom. Something like "By wearing this jersey I promise that I will personally ride every inch of the way from Logan to Billings. If I don't I will forfeit this jersey and my bike because I am obviously not worthy of either." But I couldn't get it to work with the design, so I didn't. Again, no ego involved here.
By the way, I will be wearing the jersey with all the temples listed. I will either be riding the tandem to them, or driving the support vehicle, so I am earning it.
So here is the jersey logo. I hope you like it. If you don't, don't tell me. I am very protective of my ego, uh, I mean my logo.

Temple to Temple to Temple to Temple...

2011-06-14T10:12:00.000-07:00

Mike likes bikes.
No, this is not a quote from a Dr. Suess book.
Mike loves riding his road bike, and our tandem. He loves having a long ride to look forward to. He has ridden the Lotoja (210 miles in one day) several times. He rides the Triple Bypass (126 miles, 3 mountain passes) every year. But his favorite ride to train for is whatever epic ride he is planning and arranging at the moment.
Two years ago he and 2 friends, Mike and Mark planned a week long ride from the Denver Temple to the Salt Lake Temple. I drove the support vehicle. I designed their "Temple to Temple" jerseys, and those became conversation starters wherever we stopped. Our dog Sam was a great cheering section. Mike has been looking forward to another epic ride since then. So Mike, Mike and Mark have been planning another Temple to Temple ride for July. This time they will take a week to ride from the Logan Utah Temple to the Billings Montana Temple, by way of Jackson, Grand Teton National Park, and Yellowstone National Park.
Sounds pretty straight forward.
I don't think so.
My sister will be in Utah visiting from Australia, in July, the week before the Temple to Temple. We will be there for some family events. So Mike thought, "Hey, why not ride from the Salt Lake Temple to the Logan Temple on Saturday?" Then he remembered we will be staying at my mom's house in Provo. So he thought, "Hey, why not ride from Provo Temple to the Salt Lake Temple on Friday, and stop by each of the temples in between on the way?"
Hey, why not?
So the Temple to Temple has turned into the Temple to Temple to Temple to Temple...
Then I started training to ride a century on the tandem with Mike. And I thought, "Hey, why not ride the tandem on that first day? We could support ourselves. After that I can drive the support vehicle."
So we have been planning the route to ride from the Provo Temple to the Mount Timpanogas Temple to the Draper Temple to the Oquirrh Temple to the Jordan River Temple to the Salt Lake Temple. Many of these have some significance for us.
Then Mike thought, "Hey, there are many places in between the temples that are meaningful to us. Why not plan the route so we go by some of those?"
Why not?
And why not invite any family and friends who might be in Utah to join us for any part of the ride?
So here is the basic plan:
Friday, July 15th we will leave on the tandem from the Provo Temple at 7 a.m. We will follow surface roads to the temples I mentioned above. We will be taking a less direct route between the Jordan River and Salt Lake Temples. We will go by Dad's grave to invite him along, go by parks and grandparents houses that were a big part of childhood, maybe swing by the "This is the Place"monument before coasting down to the Salt Lake Temple.
Then on Saturday Mike will leave from the Salt Lake Temple ride to the Bountiful Temple, then along the bench through our Farmington neighborhood, then through Layton past the historic house we restored, up past the Ogden Temple, then the Brigham City Temple construction site and past the place where Mike was born, through gorgeous Sardine Canyon to the Logan Temple.
You are welcome to join us, or wave at us or cheer us on. We will be posting updates. If you want more specific details, message me on facebook (Jody England Hansen) and I will put you on the email blast.
Why are we doing this ride?
There is a wonderful freedom when you are on a bike. You can go almost anywhere, and see things in more detail. It is slower than driving, but not too slow. It is quiet, and easy to talk with others. I especially like the connection that you can have with the people and creatures around you, as well as an awareness of where you are. I have so many ancestors and family who walked through or lived in these places. Riding through them is another way to experience a bond with heritage that helped make me.
Hey, why not?

The Looooove Boat....well, for some anyway.

2011-05-31T14:26:00.000-07:00

Mike and I recently went on our first cruise. It was on the Carnival ship Conquest to the Caribbean. Loved it, loved it, loved it.
Did I mention we loved it?

We needed to trade some vacation points or lose them, and this was the cruise that had space. When we found out we could scuba dive at 2 of the island stops, we were on board - so to speak.
We weren't sure what to expect, but decided, no matter what, we would have a great time. No cooking, no cleaning, no cell phone, no computer, no way could it not be great.
Our flight was delayed several times, so getting to the ship was a bit stressful, but we made it. We explored the ship, watched the shore disappear as we left and, for the first time ever, dressed for dinner. There were 6 others at our table, and we were having a great time with them within minutes. I hope they didn't get tired of us asking them for tips about the islands we would be visiting, and how to get the most out of the cruise. We never lacked for conversation at dinner. We also got some dinner dancing in.

We loved walking around the decks at night, watching movies on the big screen under the stars, seeing a new towel animal in our room each evening after housekeeping came to (get this, another first) "turn down our bed".
One of the best moments for me was our first day at sea. We found a fairly calm area on one of the upper decks, slathered on the sunscreen, arranged the chairs, and laid back. Within minutes, I saw Mike visibly relax. This continued for most of the week. A few days before we returned he mentioned a small concern about his work, and I said, "No no no no no! We still have a few days. No work, no job, no stress!" He did the same thing for me when I mentioned a concern about family. That ship was our stress free zone.
Not so for everyone.
Here are some things heard and overheard during the week.
10:30 a.m. We were relaxing on deck. A waiter was walking around with a tray of specialty mixed drinks for sale. A couple walks up to him.
Man - What is this? Is this drink strong?
Waiter says something softly which I can't hear.
Woman - Yes, this is strong. I just had one.
Man - I don't want something strong this early.
Woman to the waiter - Give me another one.
Man - Honey, don't have another one. You just had one. It's early.
Woman - I want one. I'm having it. Give me one. Now.
We saw this same couple a few days later, in the afternoon, by the elevators while Mike and I were walking up the stairs.
Man, pointing at the stairs - Let's go this way.
Woman, pushing elevator button - We were just up there. Why go back up. I'm going down.
Man - We were just up there. Let's go down this way. We can go this way.
Woman - I don't want to go back up. We were just up. I'm going down. Why do you want to go up?
Man - We were just up there. Why won't you come down with me. We don't need to go up.
Mike and I to each other - I guess not everyone is having as much fun as we are.
Another day a kid was running past us with some other kids, about 11 or 12 years old. He said to Mike, "That was the best! You gotta try it!" Then he threw his hands up in the air to high five Mike and hurried on before we could find out what was "the best".
I won't go into all the conversations we heard between people who were drunk and beyond. They can all be summed up in a word - Incoherency.
I was concerned about gaining weight. I have worked hard this year to lose 40 pounds and want to lose more. I had put on some weight in the weeks before the cruise and did not want to gain more. So here are 10 things to do to keep from gaining weight on a cruise:
1. Never take the elevator, only the stairs. Since I live at 6000 feet, this was easy at the beginning of the week, and got harder after day 2.
2. Get a room on deck 2 aft. The gym is on deck 11 forward, pool is deck 9, track is deck 10 (see #1)
3. Go workout at the gym before breakfast, it has a great view.
4. Go workout at the gym before lunch.
5. Go workout at the gym before dinner.
6. Only do shore excursions that involve lots of physical exertion, such as swimming, hiking, or riding a bus on a narrow winding road.
7. Eat fresh fruit, not waffles and syrup for breakfast.
8. Drink water, not soda. Not even diet soda. But I did see people who were drinking more than a days worth of calories in one sitting, and they weren't drinking soda.
9. Avoid carbs! Carbs are evil. Carbs will destroy the world!
10. No matter what your mother told you, you do not have to finish everything on your plate.
I did all of these things, except #9. So I still gained weight. It has been hard work, but I am finally down to my one-month-before-the-cruise-weight.
But few things got me to be careful about what I was eating more than what we saw near the end of the week. Mike and I were eating lunch at a table in the buffet area. We were tasting things on our 2 plates. A few feet away, there was a young woman eating by herself. I noticed she had 7 different plates in front of her, and she was eating from all of them. She was not large, but she was eating as if this were her last meal, and she had 5 minutes to complete it. Fries, burgers, pasta, pie, cake, brownies were all combined in her mouth while she chewed constantly. After a while, a few other family members joined her with their own plates. She said she had teased her grandma for eating 3 times in one hour. I didn't have much appetite after that.

Some of my other favorite moments:
Mike getting on the disco floor to take "Thriller" dance lessons with me.
Mike getting on the stage to take ballroom dance lessons with me.

Going to 100 foot depths on our first wall scuba dive in Cozumel. I have never seen water so blue.
Seeing dozens of schools of fish all at once on the reefs at Cozumel.
But I think the favorite moment for both of us was when we put a deposit on a cruise for next year.
That's much better than Love Boat reruns.

The End Is Not Near, You Must Learn To Cope.

2011-05-24T11:18:00.000-07:00

I must have missed the rapture. I was busy doing service. Then I went on a date with Mike.
I have no problem with those who want to be prepared and really want to know the exact day and time for an important event. I am one of them. No matter what religion, philosophy or creed we follow, we humans want to have specifics. If nothing else, we have another source to blame if things don't work out.
For those who use the Bible as a guide, it can get confusing. If you want to look, you can find plenty of conflicting messages. I read it so the the main and simple message of Christ's gospel is what I look for. Anything that does not encourage me to line up with that becomes a cultural study.
Putting huge effort and resources into trying to figure out the day and time falls into that area. There are several places where scriptures say no one knows that except God, and I can understand that.
This is not like the prom, or your 40th high school reunion. It is not going to work to diet in drastic ways to lose weight and fit into that outfit, or get a makeover so you can present a different face for the weekend.
Those things are not transfiguration proof. The person who moves on is the person you have chosen to be in this life.
My dad had a great cartoon from the New Yorker posted on his office door. It showed a bearded man in robe and sandals carrying a picket sign through the city. It said "The End Is Not Near. You Must Learn To Cope".
Since I think the need to cope will not end with this life, I think this is a good skill for me to develop. What I really like is the way so many people around me help me see that this life is not something just to endure, slog through, cope with. It is a time to learn, grow, make a difference and have a great time while doing it.
I call it following the Spirit, looking for God in everyone, At-One-Ment. Others might call it Karma, positive vibes, the Golden Rule.
I just find that I like getting a taste of heaven while I am going through mortality. It's a nice way to pass the time.

Royal Wedding, If You Like That Sort of Thing

2011-04-29T04:42:00.000-07:00

I remember watching something like this 30 years ago. Well, kind of, sort of like this, but not quite.
I had just returned to Utah after living in London for 6 months. I was there with my family while Dad was running a student program. He stayed on longer to report on the Royal Wedding of Charles and Diana for the Salt Lake paper. I had enjoyed seeing all the fuss go on in London over the engagement and wedding preparations. I hunted for and found the cheapest and cheeziest souvenir possible (still have it). I was caught up in all the pageantry of the day, and missing being in the midst of it all. I did not consider that the tension between the bride and groom was anything more than wedding jitters. Silly me.
I think Kate and Wills have a better chance of long and happy bliss than did Chuck and Di.
I am seeing a bit more of a marriage of equals going into this, since they have both been training each other for it for a number of years.
Here are some random thoughts as the wedding goes on...
I am still quite enjoying the pageantry. And no one does pageantry like England.
I am loving the intense colors worn by the wedding guests. And there are some wildly, outrageously cool hats. I am wondering how some of them are staying perched on the heads they adorn. There must be some super glue involved. And some hats are so big and positioned so the vision of the wearer must be seriously obscured. Talk about your blind spots. If they turned their head too suddenly, they might take someone's eye out, or at least do some serious damage.
Every time I hear the voice of the clergy begin the marriage ceremony, no matter how deep and rich, I can't help but think of the wedding scene from the movie "Princess Bride".
I really love the pealing bells. If you are fortunate enough to make it to England, try to get to a cathedral and see the bell ringers. The pealing bells are not random. It requires great skill, and is a wonderful thing to see and hear.
The music is as great as ever. I am a sucker for beautiful, traditional hymns.
It was very sweet when William looked at her when she got to the altar with him and he said, "You look beautiful."
How do they keep all of those horses in such great condition, and looking so gorgeous?
As I see them riding carriages through London, I spot places I have been. I remember all the wonderful experiences I had there with people I love. I can't wait to return.
Kate and William just pulled up to Buckingham Palace after the wedding. They seemed to take a deep breath before heading into the palace for many hours of festivities before they can relax.
Brace yourselves and hold on to each other. The ride is just beginning.

Nail Salon at the Temple?

2011-04-27T14:42:00.000-07:00

You didn't really think I could cover my daughter's wedding in just one blog post.
After the wedding in the temple, Mike went outside to visit with family and friends while I went with Charlotte and Elizabeth to the dressing room to help her get ready for the photos. We did not rush.
In the meantime, there was a party going on outside. Everyone who was at the wedding and everyone who was waiting outside the temple were visiting.
My sister to Mike - "What is taking so long? It's been a while since I have been in the temple. Have they added a nail salon?"
Mike to my sister - "Yeah, they have. It's right next to the coffee shop."
When Charlotte and Reed came out of the temple, Anna was the first to greet Charlotte. Then she hugged me and said, "When Dad came out to see us his eyes were red."
Not surprising.
When Charlotte and Reed were kneeling at the alter, Mike and I were looking at each other. It is impossible to hear people give and receive promises like that, promises that have no end, that we made to each other and to God, and not be moved. Now we have heard Charlotte make them to Reed, and him to her.
It wasn't just Mike's eyes that were red.
So here is something else I learned about Reed before the wedding...
I mentioned we put together a slide show for the reception. We got some final photos of Reed the week before. I noticed that some were of him in pioneer garb with youth groups doing a pioneer trek. As I looked through them, I realized he was playing the part of one of the heroes.
Background information - When some of the handcart companies were crossing the plains to get to Utah in the 1850's, they were caught in some early winter storms. Many died. When Brigham Young heard about the groups that were stranded in blizzards, he cancelled meetings and called on those who could to go and rescue them. Some loaded wagons up with supplies and headed out, some hurried on ahead with what they could carry on horses. Several young men were some of the first to reach the handcart companies, freezing and starving on the other side of an icy river. They went back and forth across the river, carrying those who could not cross on their own. When youth groups reenact the trek, they often speak of this incident. In this group, Reed was one of the rescuers carrying people across the river.
I don't think many of us like the idea of being rescued, or of needing a hero. We want to be able to handle it all alone, be our own superhero. That makes for a limited and lonely life. But we are more than happy to be a rescuer or hero to someone else. I think Mike and I have learned to be that for each other. We rescue each other, and we let the other rescue back. Mike says I am his hero, and I know he is mine.
I know Reed was playing a part as rescuer, but I think any practice is good.
I like thinking that Charlotte is with someone who will carry her when she can't go on, who will let her carry him when he can't. I like the idea that they could someday see that, together, they can leap tall buildings, be faster than a speeding bullet, and more powerful than a supercomputer (speeding locomotives are too outdated).
Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go practice.

He Is Risen. He Is Risen Indeed.

2011-04-24T14:14:00.000-07:00

My Easter memories go back as far as my Christmas memories.
Mom and Dad always had Easter baskets out for us, and there was always a hunt for eggs and candy. Mom would help us color the eggs. Being an artist, she would find a way for us to add a personal touch of expression, and we would know the eggs we were finding came from our kitchen. Dad had as much fun hiding the eggs and candy as we had in hunting for them. He would wander around saying things like, "The Easter Bunny was definitely over here," and "I think I smell more chocolate eggs around here."
When we got older, he still liked to hide candy for us to find, but he would make it more challenging. He loved it if the weather was nice enough to go outside. He would put some of the candy in prickly weeds or among the thorny roses. One year we wondered how he got the chocolate eggs up on the roof. I think he wanted to see how creative we would be in order to reach the candy. He seemed to have more fun every year. We provided more entertainment for him than color TV.
There was always an Easter program at church, and sometimes another program that night. I knew the words to the traditional Easter hymns before I knew all the Christmas Hymns, and I loved singing them.
We would always talk about Christ, and the events of the last week of Christ's life. I have an early memory of watching a Hollywood movie about the life of Christ, and it all culminated in His crucifixion. I had already felt the presence of God in my life, and I didn't like this image of someone defeated by mean people. I was heartbroken and inconsolable. Dad held me on his lap, and told me how there was so much more, that the love of Christ was stronger than death, and sadness, and loss. He said we can find joy at Easter time by concentrating on the Atonement and Resurrection. I liked the idea of knowing someone who was stronger than death.
A few years later Dad showed me how there was another way of saying Atonement. At-One-Ment was what Christ did for us in the garden. He felt our sorrows, suffering, pain, our joy, confusion, doubt, fear. By loving us completely, He became one with us. He became us. The presence of God was clearer to me. When I went through some years of doubting myself and everything else, it was easy to doubt that anyone, even a loving God could love me. I still liked Easter - the candy hunts, the family gathering, the story, the music all brought a familiar comfort, but a temporary one.
I have since learned that choosing to turn away from love, especially God's love, is not a joyful life. I now choose a joyful life. Easter is again a celebration of rebirth, forgiveness and repentance, connection, gathering, joy and the power of love over death. I have learned to celebrate it all year.
I will hide candy for anyone who will hunt for it. I loved the Easter Programs I saw last week and last night, and sang in this morning. I love the smell of my carrot cake and the lamb roast we will share with another family today. I love, most of all, offering the greeting Dad taught me years ago - He is risen. And receiving the response...
He is risen indeed.

I'm Only The Mother of the Bride

2011-04-19T02:22:00.000-07:00

My name is Jody. It's been 3 months since my last blog.
Busy time. Charlotte's wedding and 2 receptions, one in Salt Lake City, one in Colorado are now great memories with plenty of photos to remind us. Here are some of my favorite moments and thoughts.
I made one trip to Utah each month in December, January and February to take care of arrangements for the wedding. Even though it was hectic, and Charlotte was always busy with her job and church assignments, we were able to do things together and make everything work. We weren't having stereotypical mother daughter wedding planning blow-ups. I guess TV producers will have to find others for their so-called reality shows.
I liked it when Charlotte would call me several times a day to go over details.
I love the way she used Google to gather addresses. I don't know how we got by without that. Then she used a program that printed the addresses from her data base on all the envelopes, so the only ones I hand lettered were the ones to the President and other officials, or the ones we couldn't find addresses for until the very end. So, even though the addresses looked like they were printed by Wall-E from the Disney movie, it saved the sanity of more than a few of us. I just hope there weren't too many people who thought it was junk mail because of the machine printing.

I was thrilled to find a printer in Denver who, unlike so many heathens who work at copy centers, could tell that the artwork I brought to him was hand lettered calligraphy...not some type face I had spit out of my computer so they could try to match it with some technical typeface of their own. Blessings and appreciation for Scott of Centennial Press who spent 2 hours going over the artwork after he scanned it to make sure it printed well. He deserved the brownies and ginger cookies I took to him and his family.
I am so glad Anna went with Charlotte to find a wedding dress, and that she texted me photos of Charlotte in the dress she chose. Even though I couldn't be there for this important moment, I still got to shed a tear within minutes of it.
I liked it when Reed would let us know when he was doing something to surprise Charlotte, and ask for our help with details.
Once the major stress of getting the announcements printed and sent, and choosing a caterer and venue was mostly done, it was nice to focus energy on scanning photos for the reception slide show. We had plenty of Charlotte, and we were able to get a box from Reed's family. It was bittersweet to go through 25 years of pictures in a short time. That was when it really did seem as though it was just last week that Charlotte was toddling across the floor, or jabbering in her 3 year old language, or playing in her first recital.
I was glad my friend Andi would remind us (whenever any of us would voice a different opinion from what Charlotte had chosen, and yes, my mom and siblings have strong opinions, too) that we were not the ones who had the veil and bouquet, but she would bring us a cheesy one if we really felt the need to be the bride for a while. What she really brought us was some of her fabulous homemade bread, which bestowed on us comfort and calm.

I was very glad to be there when Anna and Charlotte went up to Red Butte Gardens the week before the wedding and Anna photographed Charlotte in her dress for the Bridal pictures. Even though I had to spread a sheet on the ground for Charlotte to stand on so her dress wouldn't get wet, the fresh snow on the trees made a beautiful backdrop for a beautiful woman in some beautiful photos. It was a gift to be able to see my daughters interacting this way.
I loved being able to take Charlotte out to dinner a few days before the wedding and have some time with just her. Some others suggested I not do that during such a busy time, and I was almost ready to play the "I'm just the mother of the bride and this is all I am asking" guilt card, but I didn't have to. I got my time alone with my daughter before she formally became part of a new family, and that is all I wanted.
I am so grateful my brother Mark and sister-in-law Elizabeth run the best gelato shop outside of Italy. Their gelato was a great addition to the buffet from Cuisine Unlimited for the reception.
I am also grateful Elizabeth willingly became the hairdresser, make-up artist and florist for the reception and the wedding. She patiently supervised me, Charlotte and my sisters as we arranged flowers in vases and she created a stunning bouquet, corsages and boutonnières. She did Charlotte's hair and make-up for the reception, then again the next day for the wedding. That woman deserves some artwork.

I am thrilled Charlotte and Reed decided to have the reception Friday evening, and then the wedding on Saturday morning. It was nice to have all the fuss of the big reception on Friday, and then be able to concentrate on the more intimate gathering at the temple with family on Saturday for the wedding. That is the way Mike and I did it and I have always been glad we did.
I am glad both receptions accomplished what we hoped. It was a time and place for people to gather, celebrate and honor a new couple, see family and friends again, relax, visit and enjoy good food. The one at Red Butte was a beautiful setting and perfect for the 450+ people who came. Cuisine Unlimited did a beautiful job with the catering, Dolcetti's with the gelato and Paula with the cake, and family and friends with the ambiance. The second one at our home was crowded and fun. We were thrilled so many came and stayed the whole time.

I loved it when we walked out of the temple after the wedding, and so many family and friends were there to greet Charlotte and Reed. I am thrilled so many family members came a long way to be a part of this.
I am especially glad all my kids could be there for this.
I am glad Charlotte's friend Morgan (Morgan Leigh Photography) was willing to be her photographer for the reception and wedding, and that she did such a great job.
I am glad my nephew Jacob invited the spirit of celebration by doing some great flying leaps for the wedding. His last leap was the best, when he jumped over everyone else to snatch the bouquet when Charlotte tossed it.
I am glad Reed's parents, Ross and Eileen provided a wonderful luncheon for the family after the wedding. It was nice to have a moment to unwind, relax and get some delicious caloric sustenance after such a week.
My favorite moment after the reception was when we finished taking the gifts to Charlotte's apartment. She changed into jeans and a t-shirt, then she sat on the floor and visited with Mike while she ate some of the food the caterers had set aside for her.
Then the next morning, Mike and I went with Charlotte to my dad's grave and covered it with all the flowers from the reception. We knew that was one way to include him, and to make sure he was awake in time for the wedding. We went to the temple after that and had some quiet time walking around with her before Reed got there.
It was a nice way to begin a whole new part of life.

Nailed!

2011-01-19T22:37:00.000-08:00

So I just had my first manicure.
I am amazed at how many people, women mostly, find that hard to believe. I made it into my 50's without ever getting a manicure. I am sure there are plenty of other granola eating, tree hugging, child of the 60's, mixed-media artist types who consider their fingernails tools more than items of adornment. I guess I haven't met very many of them. But the thought that goes through my head is, "What? Pay someone money to paint color on my fingernails when I can manage to get plenty of paint, ink and glue on them myself? Thanks, but no thanks."
Then, a few weeks ago it was my sister's birthday. And my other sisters decided we should take her to a salon and treat her to a nice manicure and pedicure. And they decided that if she was getting a mani-pedi, then we all should or else she would feel uncomfortable. The idea was that we would all be sitting in a row, getting our manicures, yakking away and having a sister-bonding moment, like something out of a chick flick. So I consented to getting a manicure.
Let me just say - no sister bonding, no yakking, no scene out of a chick flick.
We were all in different parts of the salon. The only person I spoke with was the very animated young man who looked like he was in high school, who had been called in just to work on our nails, who kept showing me his gel nail treatment to talk me into getting that, and tried to talk me into getting gun metal metallic color. My attempts to talk about anything of substance went nowhere. I was glad when it was all over.
Yes, my nails look faaaaabulous. Deep metallic bronze will do that.
Did I mention I use my nails as tools? I know how thick they are, and exactly how to pry, shift, texturize or grip things. But this manicure threw the universe out of balance. It changed the shape and thickness of my nails. I feel like I have aliens on my fingers.
But that kid in the nail salon with the penchant for inane chatter was right. This gel nail polish is tough! For 3 weeks I did all kinds of chores, cleaned out a carport, did paperwork, sorted art supplies, made handbound books with assemblage covers, groomed my dog, and got used to having aliens on my fingers.
Not one chip or crack or nick on my fingernails. And all the paint and ink and glue slid right off.
Now, if I could figure out how to get this without having to pay someone, or put up with their inane chatter.

In Mourning

2010-12-21T00:07:00.000-08:00

I am in mourning.
A few days ago the Provo Tabernacle, the most beautiful building in Provo, one of the most beautiful buildings in Utah, was destroyed in a fire.
I read the articles about it online, and my heart hurt. I watched the video of the news footage with a moving soundtrack of a vocal solo that had just been performed in the Tabernacle, and I wept as if I were watching the memorial service of a dear friend.
Today, Mike and I drove past it as we entered Provo for a Christmas visit to my mom. It was no longer an image on a screen, but a burned out shell right in front of me. Again, I wept from loss.
I know. It is just a building. A pile of bricks, wood and glass.
Bricks that were formed into beautiful walls and 8 sided towers, framing stunning tall stained glass windows, surrounding paneled wood doors, housing a huge meeting hall full of carved pews and lined with strong pillars that supported the balcony which seemed to embrace the room. And, just as you enter, there was the large painting by Minerva Teichert (my favorite 20th century artist) which could be seen even when you were standing at the podium all the way at the other end of the hall.
A building where I attended meetings, and heard words that inspired me, causing me to do things that changed the course of my life.
A building where I went with my sisters, brother and parents to sing Handel's Messiah, and learned to appreciate the sacred music of this season as one of its finest gifts.
A building which the LDS church freely loaned to other churches when they were in need of a large hall for special services.
A building where, nine and a half years ago, we held the memorial service for my father. Because he loved beautiful structures that were carefully and lovingly built through great sacrifice by those who settled the valley. Because he loved places where people could come and hear beautiful music, and hear words encouraging us to turn to God. Because he loved places where people would choose to gather together and find peace and joy.
It can never be the same, and nothing can replace the experiences, but I do hope they rebuild it. Especially now. We need reasons and places such as this to gather.

Lean to the Left, Lean to the Right.

2010-12-03T21:04:00.000-08:00

So I was trying to get some artwork done before church, and I had to get to church early for choir practice, and I lost track of the time because I always lose track of the time when I am doing artwork, and I ended up being in a hurry when I was getting dressed, so I let my feet poke around my closet floor to find my shoes and slip into them while I concentrated on buttoning up my blouse. I figured I could do this because I am very good at talking and chewing gum at the same time, just ask Mike.
Anyway, I managed to get myself dressed and to choir practice and then helping with class, when I noticed someone taking a double look at my feet. I glanced down and realized I was wearing unmatched shoes, a left from one pair and a right from another.
Here's the thing - I usually only have one pair of shoes for each footcovering purpose in my life. One pair of dress shoes, one pair of dress boots, one pair of walking shoes. Never have I thought "Oooh, I would love to go and shop for shoes!" It is more along the line of "Shoot, this pair is wearing out. I guess I have to get another pair of shoes". But I was at Goodwill the other day looking for some dress boots because mine have worn out (see above). I love shopping for clothes/shoes at Goodwill because I get to spend most of the time looking for old, really cool books that I turn into artwork, and only a little bit of time forcing myself to look for much needed but less important shoes. I guess someone who has the same size and weird shape of foot that I have must have cleaned out their closet and taken about a dozen pair of dress shoes and boots to Goodwill, because I actually found a few pair that fit perfectly. I ended up getting some boots and two, count them two pair of dress shoes, and my other ones have not even worn out.
So when I let my feet search around for the shoes, and slip them on, I did not consider that there was more than one pair for them to find.
When I mentioned this to a friend at church, she laughed and said, "At least both of your shoes are black. I have done that and not only were they different shoes, but also different colors."
I wondered why I seemed to be tilting a little that morning. But overall, my different right and left shoes got along pretty well.
I hope other things that tilt a little left and a little right can learn to do the same.

Hey, That's My Daughter You're Proposing To!

2010-11-27T22:18:00.000-08:00

Charlotte is engaged.
I knew this would happen eventually, but I thought we had a little more time. Now, the moment is here.
Mike and I have done some planning for this, and for years have discussed what we would need to do. Most of the planning is not financial, but more along the lines of "How do we find out more about this guy? What makes him think he's good enough to marry our daughter?" and "How can we tactfully let him know that if he ever makes our daughter cry, we know people who know people who can and will, for a loaf of bread and a cheap bottle of wine, make him disappear?"
We have a good friend who has four daughters, all married. Each time someone has come to him asking for permission to marry one of his daughters, he interviews them and asks them a list of questions about a number of aspects of their life, their past and their plans for the future. He sees this as one of the ways he can let his daughter know how much he loves her, that he would do all he can to make sure all cards are laid on the table. Many of the questions are about things that some young people might not think to discuss with each other. But just by bringing it up, things about money, opinions, past mistakes, attitudes about relationships can be talked about. Anyone who has been married for more than a few years knows it is better to adjust direction before you are in the midst of a crisis.
When we heard about this list some years ago, we asked for a copy. We let our kids know about the list, and Mike's intention to interview potential in-laws. The list is available for them to see as well. We figure the less secrecy about what experience has taught us is important, the better.
So a few weeks ago, when Charlotte called us with the news, we reminded her about the need for this interview. Since we live in different states, we had to plan on spending Thanksgiving weekend getting to know future son-in-law up close and personal.
Here is what I did not know would happen so quickly. I love this guy already.
I love him because he loves my daughter.
This is not surprising. Of course he loves Charlotte. She's wonderful and beautiful and amazing. But it is also how he loves her....
....that he would call Mike and ask permission to marry her, promising to love her forever.
....that he would come and spend Thanksgiving evening with parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins in-law who are outrageous, fun, loud, and strong, and actually participate in the chaos. Then after the engagement was announced, graciously answer questions asking for personal details about the dating and courtship.
....that he would look for ways he could help make my mom's life easier.
....that he would willingly let Mike interview him for a couple of hours, and carefully consider the questions asked.
....that he would seek spiritual help and guidance about this.
....that he would already have an awareness of being physically near Charlotte, that his hand naturally reaches for hers.
....that he would be someone around whom she can be relaxed, and be herself.
I know that I will learn to love him for who he is. But for now, it is enough that he loves Charlotte. This much. This way.
It is a pretty good beginning to forever.

Rise and Shout, Stand and Weep

2010-09-13T11:18:00.000-07:00

When Mike asked me last month if I wanted to go to the BYU - Air Force Academy football game I felt his forehead to see if he had a fever. We are not big sports fans. Spending most of a Saturday in traffic, and then in a noisy, crowded stadium full of people who (at least for the moment) hinge their happiness and reason for living on the outcome of a game is not even on our long list of "Oh Gee! I sure would like to do this on Saturday". But a large group of our friends was planning on going, and they invited us to carpool. We decided it would be a nice way to spend time with them. We both graduated from BYU, so that gave us a little bit of a connection to the event.
For those not aware of this, the drive from Lakewood to Colorado Springs is gorgeous. And we were in great company. The many tailgate parties, alumni tents, and carnival atmosphere in the parking lots around the stadium provided us some entertainment, just not the same kind as those who were participating. We got to visit with good friends for several hours, and we got to see how a part of the Air Force Academy culture works. At each game there is a fly over, a demonstration of the flying skills of their very impressive mascot (a real trained falcon), several performances of their marching band and drum line, and huge flag display. Each time Air Force scored, dozens of cadets would run down to the end zone and do synchronized push-ups for each point scored.
Okay, let me just get this part out of the way. We only stood and sang "Rise and Shout!" (the Cougar Fight song) twice. The last time the cadets ran down on the field to do their group push-ups, they had to do 35, one for each of the points scored by Air Force. Glad my mood does not depend on the outcome of that game.
But there was something else about Saturday. It was the ninth anniversary of 9/11. There was a special marching formation and flag ceremony before the game. We stood and had a moment of silence to remember victims of that day. Even though they are not mentioned, I think many of us also remember the hundreds of thousands of victims, living and dead, since that day. Then the honorary game captains were introduced. We stood to honor them. One is on the New York Police Force, was on duty on 9/11, has served several tours of duty overseas. The other is a New York fire fighter and was on duty on 9/11. One of his brothers was killed when the North Tower collapsed, another brother was killed when the South Tower collapsed.
That is the Stand and Weep part of the day.
I do not support the wars we are fighting overseas, but I support and appreciate the soldiers and families who are fighting.
I mourn for those who suffered loss and continue to suffer due to the horrific events of 9/11. Those include people from all over the world, from many cultures and religions, who were there on that day. And those who know and love the ones who were there. And those from all over the world who have suffered loss from the actions taken since that day.
I have no objection to the Mosque that is planned to be built a few blocks (not on or next to but a few blocks) from Ground Zero. I don't think the attacks on 9/11 were a Muslim action any more than I think that burning crosses on a lawn, or lynching people, or the Oklahoma City Bombing are Christian actions. These are the actions of terrorists and extremists, and they come from every culture and country. They are the antithesis of the core beliefs of every major religion.
So, among other things, I stand and weep. Because, as a practicing Mormon, I have promised to mourn with those that mourn, and help others carry their burdens, and follow the example of Christ in looking for how we are all a part of each other, and forgive and seek forgiveness even when it is hard.
On Saturday, even in the midst of crowds and noise and traffic, it was not hard.

A Weekend of Labor, Terror, and Miracles

2010-09-07T15:32:00.000-07:00

Mike loves going backpacking over Labor Day Weekend. He starts planning the next trip the day after he returns from the last. This year it was backpacking into Naturalist Basin in the High Uinta Mountains of Utah. Our daughters have planned on this most of the year. Anna has done this trail several times with Mike, I have gone on this trail once before and Charlotte has been on ones in this area. Many others were invited to join us. The final count ended up being Mike and I, daughters Charlotte and Anna, Anna's friend, and our niece who had just moved out for her freshman year at BYU. To respect privacy I will refer to the last two as A.F. and Niece.

Naturalist Basin is a stunning area. Beautiful lakes surrounded by high mountain pastures and thick forests, and a variety of wildlife. It is bear country, but we have never seen a bear. We frequently see elk, and hear them bugling at all times. We camp by a remote lake, 7 miles from the trailhead, fed by a stream that flows from a waterfall through a meadow. Even though we see many other hikers on the main trail, once we make our way to the lake, we rarely see another person until we return to the main trail.
Naturalist Basin is also a true wilderness area. The trail is 90 percent like a small boulder field that is either going up or down, rarely level, most of it strewn with small rocks among the boulders. The trail is clear during the daylight, but impossible to see at night, even with a light. Hikers have become lost in this area and never seen again.
Mike goes to great lengths to make sure everyone is prepared. He gathered food supplies and equipment all year. He divided up basic foods into individual packs for each hiker. Charlotte and Anna went over supply lists with A.F. and Niece. We made sure everyone had backpacking experience. Mike and I made arrangements to meet the Utah group at the trailhead. We checked again that everyone had layers for cold nights, water and food for the trail, divided up the equipment, went over the trail map, and reminded everyone of the rules. Never leave the trail, wait at the trail forks for those behind, stay with at least one other person in the group and never, never, never hike alone. I am a slow hiker and Mike promised to stay with me. Anna and A.F. are fast, and Anna is very familiar with where we were going, so we agreed that the two of them could go ahead and meet us at the final stream crossing, after the final fork from the main trail. Charlotte and Niece stuck together, and would wait for Mike and I every once in a while. We had been hiking a few hours, Charlotte, Niece, Mike and I had met up again. Mike showed the map to Niece again, pointing out that we would always be taking the left fork, and where we would meet Anna. He said again, "If you get ahead of us, wait at the fork". We started hiking again and Charlotte was telling me more about her new job. Niece moved on ahead. When we got to the fork, she wasn't there. We figured she had gone ahead to where Anna was waiting at the stream crossing with A.F. We slowly hiked over the roughest part of the trail and when we got close to the stream Charlotte went ahead. Within minutes Anna came running down the trail. She said Niece had never reached them, and must have taken the right fork instead of the left. She was going to run the trail and find her. I filled her water bottle and she ran down the trail. Mike and I were immediately worried. We hurried to the stream where we decided that Charlotte would wait with hers and Anna's packs. Mike, A.F. and I hiked the last mile to the lake. They left their packs and went back to help search. There was less than an hour of light left. Anna had no light, and she was wearing light hiking clothes. Niece had her pack with clothes, sleeping bag, some food and water, no light. I set up the tent, and prayed, and paced, and prayed. I was now terrified for all of them. Anna was trail running a rocky boulder strewn trail in the dark without light, Niece could be lost who knows where, and the others could lose the trail in this dark. After 10 o'clock, Mike, Charlotte, Anna and A.F. made it back to the campsite. No Niece. They had found Anna a few miles down the trail trying to make her way back, inconsolable at not finding niece.
Our prayers changed from pleas to find her, to pleas for her comfort and safety through the night until we could search again in the morning. Needless to say, we did not sleep much. As I kept looking out at the sky to see if it was getting any lighter, I thought about the news stories in recent years of those who had been lost in this area. The most hopeful was about a boy who was found after a week. I was glad Niece was not from Utah, and so was not aware of these stories. I kept worrying about what she was going through, and crying at the thought of what I was going to tell her parents.
We were up before the sun. As we filtered water, and filled our daypacks with enough food for ourselves and Niece, and tried to eat enough so we had strength to search, we went over every scenario. We decided to hike back to the last fork, leave A.F. there to relay messages to hikers. Mike, Charlotte and Anna would search the branches of the other fork. I would hike back to the trailhead, hoping she had hiked back to the car. If I didn't find her, I would drive until I had cell phone coverage, and I would call Search and Rescue. If the others found her, they would send Charlotte to run out and catch me.
As we hiked the 2 1/2 miles to the fork, I thought of Anna running this trail in the near dark. She ran over 4 miles in an hour. I was amazed she hadn't been injured. At the fork we went our separate ways. I hiked the 4 1/2 miles back to the trail head faster than ever. I spoke with every person I saw, and many offered to help search and relay information. I only stopped once for a few minutes to think and pray. Every time I felt exhausted and overwhelmed, I thought, "If this were my child, I wouldn't want anyone to give up."
At the trail head, one hiker who had verified she was not at one of the other lakes asked how he could know if we had found her. I told him to watch the news, and if this was not one of the stories, then we had found her. I drove out and got signal, called Search and Rescue and arranged to meet them at the trail head. I left messages for her parents to call me. I reached her brother and told him. He assured me she would not be one to leave the trail, but she was not likely to ask for help from another hiker. Good news and bad news. I drove back to the trail head. Charlotte was waiting for me there. She had run 8 miles out to tell me they had found her safe over 3 miles in from the fork. Other hikers had seen Niece and directed Mike and the girls to her. After giving thanks, we drove out to notify Search and Rescue, and tell her brother to keep trying to reach his parents with the good news.
When we got back to the trail head, Mike was there. He had made sure Niece was well, and Anna and A.F. took her to the camp site. He hurried out to meet us and help us filter more water for the hike back in. He and I just held each other and sobbed with relief. People in the parking lot must have been wondering what was happening.
We made our way back to the camp with gratitude and relief motivating us, rather than fear and worry. I travelled that 7 mile trail four times this weekend. This is one instance where familiarity breeds contempt. After a long hike the day before, and a sleepless night, Mike and Charlotte had logged 20 miles on a rough trail that day.
Niece told us she had not noticed the fork, had not realized we were not close behind her, and did not see other hikers on the trail. After a moment of panic when she realized she would be alone in the dark, she prayed for help, felt assured she would be all right. She bundled up in her sleeping bag and waited through the night there on the trail.
There's the labor and the terror. The miracles are that no one was seriously ill or injured from this, Niece was found within a day, and she had the courage and faith to make it through such a night, we were able to find the strength to search and bring her back to safety, the night she was alone on the trail was the only night where the temperature stayed above freezing.
Some of the things I learned, or remembered - We can do so much more than we think when we don't try to do it alone. Help and direction come in ways we can't imagine. I have amazing daughters - They didn't hesitate at all to do what needed to be done to bring Niece back, even though it meant risking their own lives. We are all at some point either losing our way, trying to find our way, or helping someone find their way back home.
Here's the other thing I learned - It will be a while before I go on a trip without being able to sleep in a warm comfortable bed. I think Mike learned that as well.

Happy 77th to Dad

2010-07-21T20:11:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow would have been Dad's 77th birthday. Tonight at midnight we will launch a website about him. It has been in the works for a long time. It will have information about his life and work, photos, videos, (Not yet but soon. I am working on it.) and most importantly, his writings.
I have mentioned before the eternal power of language. His powerful language is stronger than death, and I am grateful for the reminders of that. I hear regularly from people who have been and are impacted by his writings. That happened again this week. A dear friend called to tell me she was reading one of Dad's essays "Can Nations Love Their Enemies? An LDS Theology of Peace". She shared her appreciation for it and I felt the grace of this expression to me, especially this week. It was kind of like receiving a birthday present for Dad, but I get to enjoy it.
So I recommend you go to this link and get a taste of this wonderful man.
http://www.eugeneengland.org/
Now for the mushy gratitude part.
Thanks to Jordan, Mark, Elizabeth, Dan and Todd and all those who help with the technical and design aspects, and show great patience with this crazy family of mine.
Thanks to Rebecca, Jane, Jennifer, Mark and Katherine for sharing the journey of healing, mourning, celebrating and honoring this unusual and amazing father of ours.
Thanks to Charlotte, Anna and Joseph, and my nieces and nephews for all the reminders in your looks, your expression, your actions and passion for life that a bit of Dad continues on in you.
Thank you, Mom, for being his partner forever, helping make him who he is and being someone he loves beyond imagination.
Thank you, Michael, for being all that for me, and for honoring Dad.
Happy Birthday, Dad.

You Will Be Seeing Less of Me

2010-07-20T07:06:00.000-07:00

Literally, you will be seeing less of me.
I have been losing weight. 24 pounds so far this year. I am aiming for 20 more pounds before the end of the year.
I won't go into the boring details of why or how. But I will say that despite vicious rumors, it is much less expensive to eat healthy, non-processed foods (translation: fresh fruits and vegetables, simple proteins) than it is to eat anything that requires an ingredient list.
I still love food. I am just creating different ways to enjoy it.
Weight and metabolism are such individual things. I have been resenting the way my metabolism has changed over the last 20 years. I finally decided to make peace.
I am feeling pretty good.
Let me just say, it is much easier to ride a tandem bike up a mountain now than it was last summer. I can only imagine how much easier it is for Mike.
I think I will ask him.
It is easier to do that now that there is less coming between us.

Reborn in the Barnes

2010-06-12T17:23:00.000-07:00

I am in Philadelphia with my mom and sister Jennifer. No, I have not seen "The Art of the Steal", but when I heard that the Barnes Foundation would be moving the Albert Barnes art collection he established from the building which had housed it for almost a century, a building designed for this art collection, with each piece of art very specifically arranged with other paintings and objects and furniture not chronologically, not by style or painter, but for the purpose of teaching the viewer about life with art, and to teach students to see...well, when I heard that it would no longer be where it was so carefully and purposely placed, I had to go and see it before that happened. Then Mom said she really wanted to see it. So favorite-daughters-for-the-weekend Jennifer and I made the arrangements to get us all here.
For those of you who have never seen an original painting, in a decent museum where it is displayed well, even if you have seen good reproductions, but never an original, you might not appreciate this experience. It is kind of like the difference between seeing pictures of the Grand Canyon, and being there in person looking over the rim and experiencing the majesty of it. If at all possible, see art in its original form.
Then there is something about seeing the original artwork when it is displayed well, and you are not just walking past it to get to the next piece. I remember fitting in a visit to the National Gallery in London just to spend 25 minutes in front of the DaVinci Madonna there before going to a play.
At the Barnes Foundation, you approach the building in the middle of a residential neighborhood. The grounds have 18 acres of beautiful gardens designed by Barnes' wife. Expanses of clover lawns, forests of huge trees, rose gardens, japanese tea house and pond, specimen plantings surround the building which is covered with art sculpture and mosaic.
When I entered the main gallery, I stood in the middle and very slowly turned to see each wall, looking up to see the gigantic Matisse murals he had painted specifically for this room. I saw impressionist, post-impressionist, renaissance, medieval, byzantine, african, baroque, metalwork and sculptures from every time and place, all hanging side by side, carefully arranged so the colors, or shapes, or lines mirrored, or added to each other, pulling you into the images and teaching you to look and see in a new way.
Within moments, I realized my heart was racing and I was breathing a bit fast.
There were a few times during the 3 hours I was there that I was holding back tears, the whole experience was so powerful.
We went back there for a second visit today. Even better.
If you can, get to Philadelphia and give yourself an aerobic art workout.
Thank you, Jennifer and Mom for coming making a great girl's weekend.
Thank you, Mike for using your frequent flyer miles to get me a ticket. Hope you have enough to get us both flights to come here together. This is something richer for the sharing.

Mothers, Miracles and Mortarboards

2010-05-11T14:43:00.000-07:00

I had a different kind of Mother's Day last week. Our oldest daughter graduated from college. She has earned honors and awards in connection with her academic work, and is preparing her thesis for publication. Here is the kicker - She was offered a full time job with benefits last month, and begins work in the Honors College this week. A Humanities Major with full time employment in this economy. Now that's a miracle.
Our other daughter was able to take us to several exhibits where she has her artwork on display. We were able to see her works in progress in the studio. She shared with us her idea for a project that could impact millions of people. It might take time, and effort getting many people involved. All great things do. But she has it in her to be able to do this.
Another miracle in the making.
Each moment of being a mother has the potential of bringing great joy or deep heartache. There is nothing that can teach you more about love, forgiveness, repentance, trust, and enduring than connecting yourself completely to another life, unconditionally, for the rest of your life.
There is a risk that children will choose to turn away from all you have offered them. There is a risk that they will not forgive you for the mistakes you made (Yes, all parents make plenty of them). There is a risk they will choose to do things that will cause them pain, which causes you pain. There is a risk that others will hurt them, which hurts you.
It is very likely that you will do the best you can, and your children will grow up becoming capable adults. They will make mistakes, and forgive you for yours. They will go through difficult times, their own heartaches, and become stronger for it. They will remember that you use your days to learn and grow and try to make a difference in this world. They will see that they can settle for getting by, and be fine with a basic level of happiness, or they will realize that there is a greater joy and deeper love possible.
In other words, their life will unfold pretty much the way yours did.
Each Mother's Day tends to remind me of all this. Some reminders are painful, some joyful.
This year was no different. I don't know if I enjoy the joy that much more because I know the pain. I do know it is all part of me being a mother.
That is something I hope I never graduate from. There is always a higher degree to pursue.

I Can See Right Through You

2010-05-02T21:07:00.000-07:00

Mike is still in pain. He can't raise his left arm, his neck and shoulder are still hurting. He can't find a comfortable sleeping position, and he has to find ways to do more tasks with his right arm. He tries not to let on that this is effecting him, but he can't always hide the tension in his face that builds up as the day goes on and pain wears on him. And yes, I do see the grimaces when he tries to do something that would normally be easy but it just hurts.
Now I am not one that responds to wimpiness, and I have frequently used the phrase, "Would you like some cheese with that whine?"
But I am not sure there are great benefits to the "I haven't got time for the pain" method of healing either.
Mike went and saw a specialist last week. I saw Mike's jaw clench and eyes water as the doctor poked and prodded his neck and shoulder, expressed concern with the bone movement and ordered a CT scan. He looked at the instacare x-ray and said it was not detailed enough to show the problems.
Even the x-ray is trying to hide the pain.
There is one thing that Mike is totally transparent about. He really misses riding his bike, and not riding is impacting him as much if not more than the pain. Each time he goes into the garage he looks at the broken and mangled pieces of his bike, and mourns a little. He had worked long and hard getting every component and adjustment perfect on that bike. No parts are salvageable. I offered to help him arrange a burial, but we need to keep it until the insurance is done with it.
We took it to the bike shop to get a statement for replacement cost. As we unloaded it, each of us carrying parts and some dangling pieces dragging on the ground, I said, "When we go in there, please walk up to the repair desk and say - I think something is wrong with my bike. It isn't handling well. Can you fix it?"
He wouldn't say it. That tells you how much the pain is effecting him.
Does a wounded sense of humor count as pain and suffering?

My Published Works

2010-04-16T00:03:00.000-07:00

Ah, the smell of a freshly printed magazine!
Especially when it contains some of my artwork in it.
The new issue of Somerset Studio Magazine arrived today, and I had another piece published in it. I like the write up that was done for it, and I am very pleased with the detail photos. When I sent this piece in, I was concerned with how well the fine gold flourishes would show up, and they did a good job getting close-ups of them.
Okay, okay, it sounds like I am boasting.
I prefer the term blatant self promotion.

I love teaching, and I really love teaching art. There is something magical about the way students can take the techniques I share, and make something that is truly their own expression. I always learn from them as they are willing to trust the way they create.
The part of teaching that I don't really enjoy is the part that does not involve teaching. The publicity, the financing, the location, the arrangements. I put so much effort into researching, developing and preparing classes that are wonderful and unique and well worth the time. That is where I want to channel my time and energy. I love it when someone asks me to teach a class, and I can say, "You get this many people registered and I will teach it" and they say, "You got it", and then I just concentrate on getting ready to teach.
Here's the thing -
There are excellent artists, who are not very good teachers, and they are teaching a lot.
There are "so so" artists, who are excellent teachers, and they are teaching a lot.
All of them have to be good at self promotion.
By the way, if you have to choose - go with the excellent teachers. They will help you make the art your own.
I have been working and practicing for over 30 years to be a good teacher, and over 50 to be a good artist. One thing I have learned from others - the best teachers are very generous, with time, techniques and experience. But more on that later.
So I am learning how I can share the love - of art and creation.
Getting published helps. Thank you, Somerset Studio.
Blatant self promotion helps. Check out my art web for more images, and artwork, and classes. I will post them tomorrow on jodyenglandhansen.com
Now I need to go get more paint on my hands.

Welcome Back, My Friends, To The Song That Never Ends

2010-04-09T00:07:00.000-07:00

Mike was in another bike accident today. This time a car turned right in front of him and he couldn't stop in time. He crashed into the back corner, head over heels, snapped his bike in two, cracked his brand new helmet. He remembers all of this, so I guess that means this one wasn't as bad, since his mind did not block it out. Or maybe his mind is just getting sick of all this.
And this time he called me and I (not the EMTs in the ambulance) am the one who went to the scene, picked up the pieces, got the information from the driver and the policeman, and drove him to the Instacare. Mike insisted he didn't need to go to the ER, so this was a precautionary trip to make sure he didn't break anything new or rebreak anything that has been busy building up calcification. His shoulder is hurting and he is having a hard time lifting it.
The doctor at the instacare took one look at his anything-but-normal looking clavicle and his eyes widened. Mike quickly explained that the clavicle break was from a bike accident 3 years ago, and the shoulder and ribs were broken 6 months ago. We showed the doctor the cracked helmet. He said, "Well, that's what those are for."
He took an x-ray, and let us look at it with him. He sounded impressed as he pointed to all the broken and misaligned bones to make sure they were all accounted for in Mike's recent accidents. As far as we could tell, no new fractured bones.
Now we get to worry about soft tissue injuries. That takes time.
I got really concerned when I asked the doctor if Mike could still go on a planned skiing trip tomorrow. The doctor said, "I don't see why not" at the same time Mike said, "I'm not sure I can do that."
Usually it is the other way around.
Well, I did ask him the last time he was in the hospital, that if he was going to get in another accident, make sure his bike got the brunt of it, and not his body. Bikes are easier to replace. Maybe he is just working toward that kind of result. This time, at least it is his bike that is in multiple pieces, not him.
I am grateful he works so hard at staying mentally, emotionally and physically well with all this biking. I just wish it didn't keep smashing him to bits.

Sister Act

2010-04-01T23:07:00.000-07:00

So I just got back into town - again. I was home from Hawaii only a few days before I left to go to Artfest. This is a great art retreat by Teesha Moore for mixed media artists, held in the spring in Port Townsend, Washington. Artfest is turning into a yearly tradition for my mom, sisters and me. This is the fourth year for most of us, and the second year some of our daughters have come as well. Katherine has been teaching there for a few years, and I will apply to teach next year. We have both been accepted to teach at Journalfest, an offshoot of Artfest for art journaling which is held in the fall. Don't worry, the shameless commerce is not yet over.
Here is the thing about leading a very busy life - it is hard to justify or follow through on going to something like a retreat, or classes that challenge you, even when it is also a gathering of family members that live far apart. If we didn't have to register far in advance, and pay a deposit, and coordinate travel plans, and promise to bring supplies to share, and rely on each other for rides, it would have been easy and convenient to say, "There is just too much going on. I don't think I can make it this year."
I was still on such a high from being in Hawaii with Mike, and concerned about handling everything that still needed doing at home, it was hard to take off again. But I'm very glad I did.
I drove up to Montana, picked up sister-in-law Penny, we drove through gorgeous country to Port Townsend with some fun stops at thrift stores, and met up with Mom, two of my sisters and two nieces. I like seeing how three generations are now a part of this.

For 4 days we were immersed, with 700 others, in seeing, learning, teaching, demonstrating, trading, experimenting and sharing creativity and visual art. I was a part of 2 collaborative books, was able to trade several hundred pieces of art, and took 3 classes. Katherine traded packets of materials she had gathered on a recent trip visiting family in Paris, India and China. And she taught classes in glass mosaics.
We stayed in one of the old officer's houses where Artfest is held at Fort Worden. Each night we would show the work we had done and share new techniques with each other. We always invited the 6 women from next door to come for dinner, and had a great time crowding around the table talking about classes.

This year I had classes in drawing, watercolor, resin work and metalworking. Loved all of them and am already using new techniques I learned. I am working on teaching proposals for 4 new classes. I will post them on my website (jodyenglandhansen.com) after I submit them. You can also see what I will be teaching at journalfest there. The blog on that site will have more details.
In the early morning, before going to class, I loved walking down to the beach and around the lighthouse point. A very different beach from Maui, but still beautiful. I also loved seeing the deer all around the Fort. They just watched us walking past on our way to class, patiently putting up with our intrusion on their space.

My favorite event outside of class was the Iron Artist Challenge. 20 of the teachers were each given a packet of materials, and one hour to complete a piece of art.

We were able to go around the room and watch them as they worked. It was fascinating, and inspiring to see how each used the same materials in their individual way, making a unique artwork. This is Keith LoBue, Karen O'Brien and Julie Haymaker Thompson at Iron Artis Challenge.

My favorite acquisition - a ring made by one of my teachers, Susan Lenart Kazmer. It is magic in so many ways. Made from a shell used for women's money in Papua New Guinea in the 1800's, and another 1800's shell used by African women to decorate their hair.
My main reason for going - time with wonderful women I get to be related to, either through blood or through art, or both. Women who constantly challenge each other to be creative in all ways. We have much in common and many differences. Being a part of creative exercises helps us celebrate and honor it all together.
Go to http://www.teeshaslandofodd.com/1/temp.html and check out "retreats" to see more about Artfest and Journalfest. If you have never done anything like an art retreat, I promise an amazing time no matter what your level of experience. It is the way I teach my classes. The visual techniques develop skills that impact every part of your life.
And, it's a blast.

Coming Up For Air

2010-03-17T23:02:00.000-07:00

There was something we noticed many people we met on Maui had in common. They had gone to Maui on vacation, fallen in love with the island and cancelled their return ticket. Several of the boat dives we went on had crews that were "formers". Here is how the captain introduced the crew - "This is Kate. She used to teach biology at Georgetown. She is in charge of the lunch counter on board and will be helping with the snorkel gear. This is Chris. He was a trader in Chicago. He is my first mate and is great at maneuvering the boat on rough water. This is Rachel. She was a housewife in San Jose who ran a catering business out of her home. She will be showing you how to use the underwater cameras and making a film of the trip. This is Frank. He was a neurosurgeon at the Mayo Clinic. He now keeps our bathrooms clean and functioning."
As I talked to these people, I found some had been here for a year, some for 5, some for longer. Most of them work several jobs, not always ones they like, just so they can stay on the island, go out on the water and enjoy the beautiful landscape. I asked,"Does anyone ever get tired of this paradise?" Most of them say it never gets old, but they will probably stay another year or so, then move back to the mainland and get on with their real life.
No, Mike and I aren't canceling our ticket home.
This has been an amazing vacation, but I don't want to see it as an escape from real life. I love my life - with all the ups and downs, joy and sorrow, excitement and mundaneness. I want to see this trip as part of my real life. A really amazing, stunningly beautiful, beyond thrilling part of my real life. That way I know I can fit it in again.
So we are done with all the dives. We went snorkeling one last time. It is time to check out of the hotel and hope the wet suits and swim suits don't mildew on the long trip home.
Quite a few of you have been asking about specifics. While so much of our experience was miraculous serendipity, there were also people who helped us with "I know a guy who knows a guy" information. Here are a few tidbits for those who don't want to rely on chance for a great experience in Maui.
- The best time to go is March. The height of whale season. Photos and video can't come close to seeing them in person. And Todd the dive master wasn't kidding when he talked about the difference in whale song underwater when they are close. On Monday we did a shore dive at Black Coral reef. As we were gearing up we saw whales only 100 yards off shore, the closest ever. They were about 20 yards from the edge of the rock point where we were heading. By the time we got in the water and out there they were gone, but the whale song we heard while diving made my bones vibrate.
- Always talk with locals about the best places to dive, snorkel, hike, golf, eat, enjoy the sunset, whatever else you are interested in. Many activities don't have to cost money, or cost a lot of money. Also, once you have a referral for services that do cost, use the internet to check on specials. If you can't find someone who can say "I would do that again" or "I would go to that company again", don't waste your time and money.
-If you are going to pay to get there, set aside at least 10 days to stay there.
- When locals tell you to stay away from the black sea urchins because they bite back, they're not kidding. Mike accidentally brushed against one on his last snorkel swim. It really hurts. He now has a new scar on his leg that looks like a cluster of little dots. Use vinegar to clean, then shaving cream to help remove the needles, and antibiotic ointment to follow up. It should heal eventually. At least that's what the locals tell us.
- The "Don't Touch It!" advice goes for anything else in the water. Look and enjoy. You can get quite close to things, but don't touch or harass. You could get hurt, or fined or arrested. Mike took all these great photos and videos with a Canon G10, and used the underwater casing for it.

-For something different, go to Warren and Annabelle's Magic show in Lahaina. No matter how much you wonder if something like this is for you, trust me. This is a great show and well worth the time and money. Don't worry about including the dinner. Just make sure you fit in the show. It reminded me of when my cousin (a world renowned magician) would perform magic for us at our dinner table, just inches from our curious eyes. These guys are good and funny.
-Wailea for golfing. I am taking other people's word in this one.
- If you only do one hike, hike to Waimoku Falls at the top of Pipiwai Trail. There are not enough superlatives to describe the experience of walking through that bamboo forest.
-Save up your money and splurge on the Alii Nui catamaran cruise to Turtle Point. It is better than a spa treatment. If possible, add on the scuba dive option. Maui Dive Shop handles those and they do a great job with it. Ask for Nicole to be your dive master.
- Lahaina Divers has a great multiple dive package. All their divers and equipment are excellent. On my first dive, I had a moment of panic because all my certification dives were in calm water, very different from the open ocean. The dive master did a great job of talking me through that first minute until my brain could override the panic, and everything started to be amazing. After that, it all clicked. They gave us the best experiences of this trip.
-Don't ever sacrifice the experience for the sake of a picture. We saw the most amazing creatures and were closest to the whales on the dive where Mike did not bring his camera. No regrets. If you want to bring back incredible photos, Maui Digital Imaging sells the best ones at the best prices. Dan has been able to get the best underwater shots of whales and dolphins and anything else you would want on your wall. All the photos on my blog were of course taken by Mike.
-There are easy shore dives, and hard ones. Do the easy ones - Olowalu and Makena Landing. Boat dives are the best. Lanai's First Cathedral was my favorite. Thanks again to Lahaina Divers.
-South Pacific Kayaks for sea kayaking. We love their Makena Landing outings.

-Watch the sunset from Big Beach at least once. Any where on the west side the rest of the time. If you are willing to be one of the few people still wearing clothes (Or not - I won't tell), there is a sunset celebration on weekends at Little Beach, which is clothing optional. You never know how the people there will be celebrating the sun, but all the pre-sunset activity seems exuberant and innocent enough. I won't vouch for the after dark activity.
- MOST IMPORTANT OF ALL....
Have the kind of life that you will want to come back to. Live so that a trip to Maui is just another way to experience paradise in your life.
Now excuse me while I go give Mike a big kiss.

Jaws

2010-03-15T22:49:00.000-07:00

My brother-in-law, the dentist would have loved the things we saw on our dives yesterday. Many of them had teeth, none of which were aligned or fit within the creature's mouth. We saw plenty of open, or gaping mouths that had one or more very hard, sharp objects as part of them.
But the only thing that bit us was the coral. That only happened because we bumped into it when we weren't paying close attention. A little coral rash isn't bad on us, but not nice for the coral.
Back to the jaws.
I am fascinated by all the ways marine life consumes its food. Unlike humans, who will eat anything, at any time and in front of anyone, I have not seen many sea creatures actually having their meal. Except on National Geographic specials, and that is what most of them are about. Okay, actually they're about creatures multiplying and replenishing, hunting, killing and eating.

We did see some nudibranchs having kinky sex (mating if you are reading this to little kids), but we also saw lots of mouths hunting for something to eat.
We saw more and bigger eels today, one of them, a viper eel caught my eye because it was like seeing a rottweiler who needed braces staring out of a large hole in the reef 60 feet under water. Unlike other morays, this guy can't close his mouth because the teeth are so large and jagged. Quite a looker. For some reason it makes me think of a guy I once dated.

We came across a huge shell animal called Triton's Trumpet. It was consuming a very large sea star by slowing sucking its inner flesh out. Kind of like watching a can collapse from change in air pressure. Okay, now the kids can say "Eeeeew, gross!"

We saw a very rare Hawksbill Turtle. Its mouth looks like...you guessed it, a hawk's bill. It was nestled in among the reef chomping away at the coral as if it were a crisp green salad. I didn't know turtles ate coral like that. It made my teeth hurt to think of it.
We found a large 6 foot reef shark under a collapsed wharf. The poor thing was just trying to take a nap, and we kept swimming around it taking its picture. Mike practically laid down next to it trying to get a close up. Our dive master saw it had a hook in its jaw, with fish line trailing out. She tried to get the line untangled and follow it up to the hook so she could remove it. She got to where she was trying to roll it over to get to the hook, when it woke up and decided that was enough. She figured it was time for us to back off at that point. It probably felt like any of us when our naptime is interrupted...grumpy. Reef sharks are usually non-aggressive, except when they're not.

There was a frog fish that likes to hang out on this wharf as well. It looks exactly like the coral around it. Even the little dangling lure on its head looks like coral. We found out that when it grabs any fish that goes for the lure, it is one of the fastest movements in the natural world. Less than 1/30 of a second. Frame by frame it looks like this - frog fish and fish, frog fish and fish, frog fish and no fish. That is how fast those jaws work. It reminds me of our kids eating dinner after a long swim meet. Now that was frightening.
I'm getting hungry. Think I will go eat now.

The Road to Hana

2010-03-14T00:42:00.000-08:00

Long day. We got up at 5:30 and spent the day seeing things along the Hana Highway. It amazes me to think that over 50 years ago my dad was traveling along that road on a horse and on foot as a very young missionary, but that is another story.
Many amazing things we were able to see and enjoy, but I will just touch on two highlights.

The last time we were here, we learned that the spirits of the ancestors dwell in the lava rocks. Mike took a small lava rock from one of the black sand beaches so he would make sure to return to Maui and bring the spirit of this ancestor back. Then he planned on taking another rock so he would need to return again with that one. We visited that black sand beach today. It was unexpectedly moving for him to return the rock to its home, and then choose another that would live with us until we return. He will keep it in his office, and look at it when he needs a reminder of why he goes to work every day.

Our other unexpected highlight was on the 4 mile hike to see Waimoku Falls. This waterfall is 400 feet high, and is in one of the canyons on the east side of Haleakala Volcano. We started at the coast and ascended through different kinds of woods, crossing over the gorge with many smaller falls and pools. Then we were in a dense bamboo forest. It was as if there was only us and the rich, green plants. That bamboo forest scene in "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon" could have been filmed here. When there was a breeze, the trees would whisper above, and as the trunks bumped into each other, we were surrounded by the rich, deep percussion melody like giant bamboo chimes. It was beautifully haunting.
The waterfall was also stunning.

Tomorrow we get to dive some more. For now, we relish the unique beauty of this day.

Detecting Monk and Turtle Love

2010-03-13T00:20:00.000-08:00

I know I am sounding like a broken record, but today - like each day so far this week - has been the best day ever.
We went to a dive site on a beautiful, new catamaran. Now for the shameless commerce part of our show. If any of you ever make it to Hawaii, and you are willing and able to set aside some of the budget for a "I deserve to be spoiled" experience, then take one of the cruises offered on the Alii Nui. The one we went on is a morning sail to Turtle Point, where most of the passengers went snorkeling. We took the option to go scuba diving beyond Turtle Point and out to the edge of the reef to the wall where whales swim by and scrape off the barnacles accumulated during the long journey to Maui. The crew takes care of everything, including breakfast and lunch buffets prepared on the boat. The boat is large and even in rough water gives a smooth ride. It is much quieter than most boats, and we were able to see many whales that came quite close to us. We even had dolphins surfacing with the whales around the boat.
One of the whales we saw was a very young one with its mother. It stayed on the surface and seemed to be trying to learn how to do an impressive fluke slap on the water. It kept flipping its tail up and slapping it down, again and again. But it would flop around and come down at an angle, and sometimes the slap would make the little whale flip over.

It reminded me of little kids in the middle of a growth spurt - all arms and legs and not quite knowing how to handle the total yardage of their limbs. It was a tender thing to watch.
My best friend and dive master for the day was Nicole. Ask for her when you book the cruise. We saw some great stuff. The best was the "Who could have anticipated this" stuff.
I have mentioned that we were in Maui a few years ago, and we went snorkeling with our kids, and we saw a Monk Seal playing with a sea turtle at the edge of a reef, and our guide was amazed and told us many of the people who actually live there and study marine life have never seen that, and we were beyond lucky. We have heard from others that they might see a Monk Seal out on land, in secluded areas. But there are only 1100 of them left in the world, the population is declining, and only a couple hundred at any given time are in Hawaii, and no one ever sees them underwater, much less with a turtle.
Did I mention that seeing a Monk Seal is rare?

Today, we saw a Monk Seal, playing with a sea turtle, under the boat when we were diving the reef.
When you look at the picture, I want you to keep in mind that the Monk Seal is about 8 feet long, because the turtle is about 4 feet long. We know this because later, when the Monk Seal was gone and we were able to approach the boat (we are not allowed to approach a Monk Seal), the turtle came and hung around for a very up close and personal experience.

I think she (yes, it is a girl turtle, I can tell because of her eyelashes) has a crush on Mike. She would not get away from the diver's weight line. Then she swam right to me as if I weren't there. I moved aside and she swam to Mike and kept swimming around him, within inches of him. She finally moved away long enough for us to get in the boat. She hung around on the surface by the ladder while we ate our lunch, but Mike didn't get back in the water. We were off to see more whales.
I hope she gets over him. I am not willing to compete with such a strong swimmer.

A Clutch of Eggs, A Cove of Dolphins, A Pod of Whales

2010-03-12T00:33:00.000-08:00

More diving on Maui today. No offense to my many friends who love golf (which I think is a severe addiction for some, but it happens to be legal), but why would anyone come to Maui to golf when there is so much to see in the water? It is obvious that many do because there are a number of golf courses along the shoreline here. It is one of the unexplainable mysteries of the universe.
Actually we took a boat ride from Maui to dive at the next door island of Lanai. One of the whales we saw on the way was slapping its flukes on the water repeatedly. Huge splashes and a booming sound with each slap. One of the dive masters said that could at times go on for a very long time.
My best friend and dive master for the day was Todd. He told us about one of the times he was diving with a friend at Lanai. They were in a sand channel below a reef when a tiger shark came toward them and plunged suddenly into the sand, then shot out of it with a fish in its mouth. Right after that, his friend sat there checking the images he had on his digital camera. Todd looked up and from the deeper blue water emerged a whale and her baby, swimming right over both of them. He frantically tried to get his friend to look up, but he kept looking down at his camera. It was only when the whale was almost past him that he looked up, and got a picture of her tail as she swam away. Now that is quite a dive. Todd also told us that when we can hear whale song under the water, the whales are usually miles away. It is only when you hear it at the level of 160 decibels, and can feel the vibration to the core of your bones that you start looking over your shoulder for that whale. But they only sing when the are not moving. That might be painful, but what a way to go.

The opening act for today's dive was a section of reef wall covered in fish eggs. A variety of reef fish were going at these eggs like it was their last meal. It was like seeing an underwater all-you-can-eat buffet.
We were able to swim through several caves and caverns, one called the Cathedral. It is shaped just like one, complete with intricate patterned openings that look like a stained glass image of moving fish.
In between our dives, we boated through a cove that was full of spinner dolphins. They swam all around the boat, flashing under the water, leaping out and spinning like a corkscrew in the air. Shaun White has nothing on these guys. There were dozens and dozens of them, shooting under and over the surface, jumping everywhere. The captain anchored a little way off and let us get our snorkels on and get in the water. We were hoping the dolphins would come closer, but they didn't. It was still a treat to see.

The finale for the dive was on the way back to Maui. We came upon a whole pod of whales, at least eight of them. They were all moving very close, jostling and jumping over each other. It was like watching a bunch of college age kids playing basketball. It amazes me how creatures that weigh over 40 tons can move in such a group and still be so smooth and graceful.
Now for the encore. Mike and I were walking along the beach tonight, watching the sunset. Then just beyond the waves, we saw a small whale leap out of the water and splash back down, then again, and again. We saw its mom behind it, following closely. It was as if she was giving it lessons, and encouraging it to practice.
All day I kept looking at Mike's face, and I saw so much enjoyment there. I think his batteries are recharging.

Turtles and Sharks and Whales, Oh My!

2010-03-10T22:58:00.000-08:00

Today we went sea kayaking. I thought we were going to paddle the kayaks along the coastline, then stop at a few places to go snorkeling from the kayaks. But that would be the routine at any other time of year. We did something differently because........
IT'S WHALE SEASON, BABY!
Our guide is probably not much older than our kids, but he was very knowledgeable. We also saw the guide we had a few years ago. He remembered us because when we went snorkeling from the kayaks with him, we saw a monk seal (extremely rare) playing with a sea turtle next to the reef (never happened before within sight of humans who actually talked about it). He still seemed so excited to recall that moment.
Anyway, our guide told us that we would first paddle out to open water and look for whales, then we would go snorkeling. Kayaks? In open water? Looking for whales? How cool is that?
Let me just say - and I can now say this from personal experience - seeing whales close up from a kayak is almost indescribable. So I won't try.

After that moving experience, we went snorkeling into reefs that formed over fingers of lava flows, with caves and swim through tunnels. I prefer staying near the surface with a snorkel, but Mike likes to dive down and swim through the holes and under ledges and get closer to the coral and marine life. I kept an eye on him as he dove down 30 feet to get pictures of a reef shark, and check out a sea turtle that was sitting under a ledge. I didn't want to take the chance he wouldn't come back up because his current life insurance isn't enough to enable me to travel to Hawaii every spring. There were scuba divers down looking through one cave, and I saw them do a double take when Mike swam by them with only a snorkel. I could practically see the thought bubbles along with the air bubbles over their heads saying, "Where is his scuba gear?" and "How is he doing that?"

He made it back up, with great pictures, too.
We were also able to hear the whale song at the surface when we were snorkeling, so they were quite close. I kept looking out to the deep water beyond the reef, expecting a whale to come to the reef. Not today, but there is always tomorrow.
So today we kayaked with the whales, swam with the turtles, and photographed the shark.
Enjoy the photos.

Take Me To The Volcano!

2010-03-10T00:47:00.000-08:00

"Take Me To The Volcano!"
This is another favorite movie line, from "Joe Versus The Volcano". If you haven't seen it, go find it on Netflix, or Ebay, or somewhere. It is a must-see-before-you-die movie.
Before I get to todays installment of the Maui Chronicles, I need to backtrack.

Over three years ago we brought our three kids to Maui for a Thanksgiving vacation trip. We had a great time. I had been waiting years for the opportunity to use the "Maui is what bwings us togethow today" line on them, and I did as soon as we were in the rental car heading away from the Maui airport. The kids rolled their eyes and groaned at my Mama Joke. But they couldn't hide the fact that they were excited too.
The next day we dragged them out of bed very early to drive up to the top of Haleakala, a 10,000 foot tall volcano, to see the sunrise. As soon as we got everyone in the car and pulled out of the parking lot, I turned to them and said, "TAKE ME TO THE VOLCANO!" in the same vocal inflection Tom Hanks used in saying that line in the movie. More eye rolls and groans, some muttering and murmuring, then they got back to the business of going back to sleep until we got to the top.
Now I need to refer back to the first time Mike and I had been to Maui back in 1996. My sister and her husband had won a drawing for 10 days in a 2 bedroom condo on Maui and they invited us to join them. Trading in frequent flyer miles got us there, and we had a great time. We loved going from snowy winter to warm beaches. We also got up at 4 a.m. one morning to go see the sunrise at the top of Haleakala. It was still dark when we got to the top and found one last parking spot in the parking lot. We all jumped out to hurry over to the view point to get the first glimpse of sun. Within a few seconds we had all jumped back in the car. It was beyond freezing outside. It was colder than I had ever experienced. I hadn't even felt this kind of cold when we lived in Minnesota, and I lost feeling in three of my toes while living there. We didn't have any warm clothes, just our swimsuits and light clothing over them so we could go snorkeling later. We started digging around in the car for anything we could wrap around us to keep from turning into popsicles. We managed to endure the cold long enough to realize that the clouds were covering up the sunrise, and we were not going to see it.
So we had prepared the kids for that kind of cold. We told them about our first experience there. We told them we could still feel the bitter cold just by remembering it. We told them to bring every piece of clothing they had packed, and layer it all on until we could see the sunrise and rush back to the car. We told them and told them and told them that we were trying to prepare them so they would survive this great experience and thank us for it later.
We got to the top, braced ourselves, and got out of the car to fairly cool, but not bitter cold weather. We were actually over-insulated.
My kids looked at me with the "Is this another one of your 'I had to walk to school uphill, both ways, in the snow, in July because this was before summer vacation was invented' stories that you tell us all the time but which we will never believe because we know better now?" look that they have been giving me more frequently each year.
Oh the fickleness of the volcano.
We had a good time anyway, and saw a gorgeous sunrise.
This time Mike and I went in the afternoon. We went to see the huge crater, not the sunrise. Went to a lookout point before the summit. The whole view was covered in fog. We had been told to wait if it was foggy because it would clear. We waited. I said, "Volcano, reveal yourself!" It cleared. It was stunning and gigantic. I think I counted 7 large cinder cones almost lost in the middle of this massive crater. We decided to hike down the trail to the crater that was nearest the edge, just to look into it. We thought it would take about an hour.
Silly us.
The fog rolled back in and covered the crater, trail and everyone on the trail. We passed hikers and trail horses that were coming out, breathing hard and covered in droplets of cold dew. We kept going. I had an altitude headache. Even though I live in Colorado, I have not hiked above 9,000 feet. That's Mike's job. I have bicycled up to 11,000, but that is different. At that time, I turned around and road back down before the altitude could get to me.
I didn't like the thought that I was hiking down, and that meant I would have to climb back up. But the really hard thing was hiking in the fog. Visibility was only about 30 feet, and nothing grows up there. I felt like we were lost on a lunar surface in a dense mist. For a few minutes, the cold wind blew away the fog on the sides of the crater, but not in the crater. We couldn't tell if the first cinder cone was 100 feet or 100 miles away. After an hour, we turned around and hiked back out. 1 1/2 hours later, back at the summit, we looked into the crater again as the fog rolled away to reveal it all again. It is impressive, to see such dramatic landscape, and also look around and see the entire island of Maui, and other islands many miles away. Even with the fog, and altitude and hike, it was worth the experience.
Now, take me to the beach.
More of paradise tomorrow.

It's a Fluke!

2010-03-08T18:12:00.000-08:00

Yes, one of my favorite lines from "The Princess Bride" is given by the pompous priest with the speech impediment performing the marriage, "Mawwage is what bwings us togetho today".

Maui is what brings us together today.

Mike and I have been in Maui for 24 hours.

On our first complete day here:

We rode a boat out to a crater where we got to scuba dive a couple of times.

We saw reef sharks, and morays, and had a "Finding Nemo" moment swimming around the reefs.

We went snorkeling from the shore through huge coral gardens.

We sat on the beach listening to the waves as dusk settled. 

We cooked a wonderful fish dinner in the teeny kitchen.

And, best of all, the thing that if nothing else happened for the whole trip it would still be worth it, are you ready, here it is…

WE SAW MORE WHALES UP CLOSE AND PERSONAL THAN I THOUGHT POSSIBLE.

Anyone who has been to Maui in March knows that it is the height of whale migration around the island, and it is likely, at any given time to see whale spout, maybe glimpse a whale surfacing way off shore, and, if you are really lucky, a whale leaping out of the water, or breaching. This is what we were hoping and expecting to see.

It has been so much more than that.

There are whales everywhere - spouting, leaping, slapping their flukes  and fins on the water repeatedly, whales swimming alone, with others, sometimes in large groups. We can hear whale song underwater when we are scuba diving.  We can see all this from the shore. 

And still, so much more.

When we were riding the boat to go scuba diving at the crater, we had to stop several times because whales surfaced in front of us, then swam to us and swam just under the surface around the boat. One time it was a small whale who seemed to be showing off or playing with us because he kept leaping out of the water and slapping his fins and flukes on it. Then, as he approached the boat and swam around it, I thought, "That just paid for the whole trip".  The next time the boat had to stop, it was a mama and baby which had surfaced in front of us, then a large male showed up next to them, and they were gone. The third time, it was another baby, who also seemed to be playing with us. As it swam around the boat, the markings on its flukes seemed to glow. Yes, we got pictures, but kind of as an afterthought. We mostly just enjoyed being on the same planet with these huge creatures. After that, anything else that happens to us is a bonus. So much to be grateful for.

Now go and listen to a recording of Louis Armstrong singing "What a Wonderful World".

More tomorrow.

Happy Birthday Andrew

2010-02-15T09:33:00.000-08:00

In 2002 we lived in Farmington, Utah. My sister Becky lived in Salt Lake City. She and her husband had bought a package of tickets to the Olympics, which had to be purchased over a year in advance. Summer 2001 she found out she was pregnant. The baby was due mid February. The Olympics were due mid February.
We were all thrilled about the baby coming. It would be the first new birth since Dad had died. It would be at a time when all siblings would be in town to enjoy the Olympic celebration. Anything that called for us to celebrate, helped us to heal.
We were also very willing to help Becky with her tickets. She was not able to use all of her tickets because some events required more walking and standing than she was able to do at 40 weeks of pregnancy. What is family for if not to help out in time of need? We were all very willing to sacrifice and attend the events for her. Loved it, by the way. Salt Lake City did a great hosting job.
But Becky refused to miss out on seeing Apollo Ohno. I think her husband rolled her into the ice rink venue in a wheel chair, so she wouldn't overdo it. She was able to see him win his first medal. Then she went into labor.
All 5 siblings, and my mom, my kids, and several nieces and nephews all hurried to the hospital and took over the maternity waiting room. When you're talking about a maternity waiting room in Utah, that is no easy task. But my family is not known to be shy and retiring. Only one sister was invited to be in the room the moment of birth, but within seconds she had run down to the waiting room and told us the baby was here. People jumped out of the way to avoid being trampled as we rushed down the hall to the delivery room. There we welcomed Andrew Woolley Apollo Ohno Eugene England Kimball. He looked just like my dad's baby pictures (at least that's what I think and the others who didn't agree need their eyes checked).
Before he was a week old, Andrew was able to see more athletes win medals. Becky got plenty of use out of the wheelchair during those olympics.
This will always be a part of the Winter Olympic experience for me. It was a great way to celebrate love and hope and healing. Happy Birthday Andrew!

A Good Time Retreat

2010-02-12T15:05:00.000-08:00

The exciting news for this month - well, not the only exciting news, but one of the pieces of good news. I will be teaching at Journalfest 2010! I love it when I develop an art class and have a great experience teaching it, and keep tweaking it with the help of amazing students, then I send in a teaching proposal to an art journaling retreat that is held at an old fort in the charming town of Port Townsend, Washington in October, and it gets accepted, and my sister Katherine will be teaching there as well, and don't you just love it when that happens?
If you have never been to an art retreat, or a writer's retreat, or whatever kind of retreat for what you love or want to learn, I can tell you it can be a great experience. If you have been to a retreat, and you had a fantastic time, then you know. For the last few years my sisters, sister-in-law, my mom and I have met up in Seattle and from there gone up to Port Townsend for Artfest, the mixed-media artist retreat that takes place in March. We all share a house and have a great time going to classes, sharing supplies, enjoying each other's artwork, cooking tempting food and being creative together. We trade artwork and ideas and encouragement. No matter what we are each dealing with in our lives, this reinforces us for the challenges, and enhances the joys. Now another generation is becoming a part of it. My daughter and niece joined us last time and it was great to see them developing and sharing their artistic journey. If there is a way to make this happen for you, I highly recommend it.
Now for the shameless commerce part of the show. Teesha Moore and her family are the creators of Artfest and Journalfest. The Website for Journalfest will be up on March 5. Go to teeshamoore.com and follow the link to the Journalfest site for details. My website jodyenglandhansen.com has a few more details as well on the Places to Go page. I hope to see you there. I promise you will love it.
Now for the shameless affection part of the show. Dear Michael, this is for you - Happy Valentine's Day. When Dr. Suess wrote this, he must have had us in mind.
"You know you're in love when you don't want to fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams." Theodor Geisel (Dr. Suess).

Maybe Not Helpless

2010-01-28T13:44:00.000-08:00

I have been putting this off, or maybe avoiding it, or just not too sure how to blog about it. But I am definitely not ignoring it.

Terrible things happen. Most of the time it is that something happens, no more and no less than that. It isn't because you ate a red jelly bean, or your mom didn't cuddle you enough, or your great grandpa was a pirate, and it definitely isn't because Adam and Eve ate the fruit.

Sometimes I struggle with the "why". But that takes energy, and it doesn't make much difference.

A young person, deeply loved by people I know and love, is gone. I am helpless to explain or take away the loss and grief. I can send tokens of thought, I can pray, I can listen. I can stop saying I am helpless.

The earth shifted and hundreds of thousands are dead, many more homeless in Haiti. I can tune out those who turn this into a forum for fear, hate and division. I can learn about those who are helping. I can spend less on stuff, and instead send a check to help. I can assemble hygiene kits, and make phone calls, budget money to help now and next month and next year. This is not going to be over anytime soon for Haitians.

I see news footage of an old woman who is pulled out of the wreckage a week after the building collapsed on her. A week of pain, thirst, hunger and wondering if anyone will ever hear you. The first thing she does when she is out is sing praises to God, grateful for each moment of life.

I can be grateful for the miracles in all that happens, and for each moment of life.

In each moment, there is hope, and help.

Caught in a Web

2010-01-19T12:43:00.000-08:00

Remember waaaaay back in October when I wrote that I would be taking action to conquer my fear around computers, and I would be learning how to set up a website, post pictures and be on the verge of total technical domination? Yeah, I remember. Here is my report.

First, can I just say how much I love my Mac? And I now have several new best friends at the Apple Store. For my birthday, Mike and I signed up for the One to One tutoring program at the Apple Store. I am not one who likes to participate in shameless endorsement, but here goes - THIS IS THE BEST PRODUCT SINCE DISPOSABLE DIAPERS - SINCE ADVIL - SINCE SCUBA DIVING IN HAWAII! I could go on, but you get the idea.

Here is how it works. When you buy a Mac from the Apple Store, you can sign up for One to One. This lets you make an appointment each week to meet with a tutor at the Apple Store and get personal instruction on how to get the most out of your Mac. I had no idea that it could do so much, or so easily. Then in addition, you can sign up for help with projects. You can be there for a 3 hour session, working on a project, and able to get help from an expert at any time. I think some of them are trained to sense panic, and they step in before things get out of hand.

So we went in for our projects session last week and set up our Mac. I looked at the others who were there for help and wondered why there were so many old geezers around us. My soon to be best friend "Angela" (name has been changed to protect her anonymity) came out to work with us. All my anxiety left when I noticed the glowing, apple shaped halo hovering over her head. In less than half an hour, because of her calm, patient coaching, we had my new web site up with me having a rudimentary understanding of how to keep adding to it. We also learned how edit photos for additional web work, as well as other less glorious, but still essential tasks. Just imagine what we could do in 7 days.

It only took the deadline of submitting a class proposal, and having another art piece being published in Somerset Studio. The pressure induced by a deadline produces quite a result. I have been adding something to the web page everyday. It will always be under construction, I have only begun posting images and class info, but the essentials are there. Please go check it out at jodyenglandhansen.com. I would love your suggestions.

Okay, so it is still not intuitive, and sometimes I try to do something the same way Mike does and, instead of results, I hear a soft evil chuckle coming from the screen. But I no longer tremble in fear. My new best friend with the apple halo has got my back.

Thank You, Jacques Cousteau

2010-01-13T09:09:00.000-08:00

Hawaii is back on. To make up for the delay in going there, we gave each other a Christmas gift of scuba lessons. There is an instructional DVD that we watch before doing the homework. Then we go to class for hours of instruction and pool work.

It is fascinating to watch the DVD. Happy, incredibly fit, bronzed young people with flowing hair (even on a windy boat or underwater), easily handling heavy equipment, looking like they were sewn into their wetsuits. They move effortlessly on land or in the water, in perfect control of their position and equipment, handling emergencies calmly and easily. It is as if they are live versions of Disney cartoons. Not the villains or the sidekicks, but the romantic leads. I look at this and think, "This is going to be easy. And it will be fun looking so smooth and gorgeous in the water."

Then we get to class and start working with the equipment. I quickly realize the main point of all this is probably to provide entertainment for the diving instructors. I feel awkward and clumsy, I can't control my buoyancy or where I move in the water, and this is in a pool where there aren't currents and waves. The instructors seem to be enjoying all this, even as they tell us that we are doing fine and we will have a great time once we get out in the ocean. Mike, who is part fish, is doing great. But he already looks better than the guys in the DVD. Knowing he is my permanent diving buddy is the best thing about all this, and I know I'll do just fine in the water.

None of this would be possible without Jacques Cousteau. I remember seeing the Jacques Cousteau underwater documentaries ever since I was a child. I loved seeing this amazing world of gorgeous marine life. Then I learned that he is the one who invented Self Contained Underwater Breathing Apparatus, and that SCUBA would make it possible for anyone to explore underwater. It has only taken me 45 years to get around to learning how. Okay, so I've been busy.

My daughter Anna was in Cozumel last week on her first scuba trip. She told me about the amazing things she saw, and I told her Cozumal was one of Jacques Cousteau's favorite dive spots. She said, "Who is Jacques Cousteau?"

Just what I need. Another mother-failure moment. How could I have not taught my kids about Jacques Cousteau?

I guess I will need to make up for it by sending them photos taken of our underwater dives, of me floating glamorously above colorful reefs, my hair floating beautifully around my head, surrounded by turtles and tropical fish, happily diving with my handsome buddy.

Thanks, Jacques.

Worth a Thousand Words

2009-12-31T11:25:00.000-08:00

I have been working on preserving my family photos for years. My main effort lately has been to scan all the slides and old photos my mom has into a file and then make copies on discs for my siblings. I don't like the nightmare where Mom's house burns to the ground while she is visiting one of us and the only photo of us in front of our house in Boston with me gripping our cat in my fat toddler hands is gone forever.

So far, I have over 5000 images in the file, plenty more to go.

I made prints of some of the scanned slides and gave them to siblings and kids for Christmas. Most images have never been seen, so everyone was surprised.

It has been an interesting experience for me to relive the last 5 decades through these images. Some of my favorite are of me as a toddler being held by my dad while we are playing on the beach in Massachusetts. In one photo he is holding my hand to keep me from running out into the waves, both of us are laughing.

Then I think of the photos taken about 9 years ago, after his brain cancer was discovered, and the surgery, and the efforts to rebuild the connections to his arms and legs, but before the end. I was holding his hand while he concentrated on moving his legs for each step. Most images show both of us with determined looks on our faces, but in one we are both laughing. Then more images as he tried to continue his work, and we were there helping him. Then no more laughing images during the time when the cancer was everywhere, and we just wanted to be with him.

The photos remind me that my dad took care of me long before I took care of him.

Eventually, we all take care of each other.

Oh Come, Oh Come

2009-12-28T22:04:00.000-08:00

I helped my mom clean her house today. There were over 20 family members and 5 dogs here for Christmas. During the last 24 hours there has been a mass exodus, and now it is just me and Mike here to help clear up. I love being here for Christmas. I don't think any of my family shops for anything in December except for food and art supplies. It is not a good idea to be at my mom's house and trying to lose weight, or wishing for a blender for Christmas. There is always plenty of home made, non-nonfat food available, and we are all busy right up to the last minute making gifts for each other. Now that many of the grandkids are in college, the activity throughout the house is multi-generational. My nieces learned how to cook the caramel fudge to the perfect soft ball stage, and how to know when to stop beating it so it was the right consistency. My sister and I were trying not to trip over each other in Mom's studio, each of us working with different mediums. I was framing pictures past midnight on Christmas Eve. My daughter gave up sleep to help Mom wrap everything.

Christmas morning, everyone is dressed and done with breakfast before lining up, youngest to oldest, to enter the living room and open stockings and presents. Years ago we started the tradition of opening each gift one at a time so everyone could see what had been created and given. I used to wonder if we were trying to outdo each other, but now I just realize that we love and trust each other enough to offer our precious creations as gifts and know they will be appreciated. This is where many of our experiments and explorations in creativity get first exposure and feed back. Over the years we have gasped, cheered, and celebrated handmade dolls, quilts, one-of-a kind books, fine lettering, metal work, paintings, drawings, original writing, sculpture, assemblages, and much more. This year there were paintings on glass, mixed media clocks, honey from my brothers own beehives, heritage photos, original poetry, and art photos. As the morning goes on, it almost becomes an emotional aerobic workout. The only competition seems to be for the one who is most excited about their gift.

It all culminates when the end of a red string appears on the floor, leading off through the rooms of the house. We follow the string up and down the stairs, out the back and in the front doors until it ends up back in the front room attached to the final and most wonderful gift. Dad was always the one to figure out something great for all of us to enjoy at the end of the string. After his death eight years ago, the siblings took over and we somehow come up with something amazing for Mom. This year, my niece had made a bronze sculpture of Mom and Dad dancing, with a music box in the base that played Nat King Cole's "Unforgettable". It was their song. She had designed the sculpture from a picture of them taken on their first date 57 years ago. Two of us had to hold Mom up when she saw it. Yeah, I think she liked it.

Okay, so the dogs didn't all get along all the time, and some of the grandkids were putting all their energy into being too cool to show excitement and no energy into saying thank you, and most of us were sleep deprived, and not everyone could be here, and we never get enough time together - it is still a wonderful way to spend Christmas. Family and creation and giving.

I think I'll come back next year.

Happy Unbirthday

2009-12-08T12:11:00.000-08:00

Happy Birthday to Charlotte. Happy Unbirthday to everyone else.

I had a birthday last week. I got what I wanted - time with Mike. He did the most romantic thing, he took a day off work so we could have the day together. My sister almost started crying when she heard, she thought it was so romantic. Decades ago, I would have pictured a romantic day as one that involved a flight to Paris, fancy restaurants, nice hotels, high fashion, being seen and envied. I still love to travel, and will live in very simple accommodations in order to visit far away countries. But with time, romance has become something that can happen right here and now. It has more to do with seeing than being seen.

With another birthday, here are a few more things I see:

I see that my parents really do and did love me, even when I was a young person yelling at them that they did not understand anything about me or life, and they should just get off my back, except when I needed their help of course. I see this because I really do love my kids, every moment, no matter what.

I see that the best friends are those who give and receive. Having fans seems to be a big deal these days. I don't want fans. I want friends who love me even when we don't agree, or if we have different tastes, or abilities. I want friends who share and teach and forgive. I see I have them.

I see there is nothing like family connections. I see how my family is always there for me, and loves me, no matter what.

I see that scars and wrinkles and signs of gravity on my body are signs of a life of abundance. Signs that I have been able to to bear children, create life, work hard, survive and learn from mistakes, serve often, pray fervently, endure illness and injury, love deeply enough to weep, worry, mourn, laugh and rejoice.

I see that Mike sees all of this, and loves me completely.

I see I don't need to wait for my birthday to celebrate all of that.

Happy Thanksgiving

2009-11-24T23:52:00.000-08:00

Thanksgiving is almost my favorite holiday. There are comforting traditions that involve food and loved ones. I get to gather with my family and friends for no other reason than to share traditions and give thanks. We always get to meet others who are far from home and come to share some of their life with us. I love having a reminder to think of all the things I am grateful for, and there is no need to sink into all kinds of commercial merchandising to make it through the holiday.

Favorite Thanksgiving traditions - gather at Mom's house with as many family members who can make it, help cook old family recipes, play touch football, have old movies playing in the background, listen to guests share their traditions, take turns saying what we are most grateful for this year, let everyone help clean up.

Favorite Thanksgiving menu - turkey, mashed yukon gold potatoes, candied yams, Mom's amazing stuffing and homemade cranberry sauce, wonderful salad, and Mom's homemade rolls, then pumpkin pie and Mike's pecan pie.

Favorite Thanksgiving leftovers - turkey cranberry sandwiches on homemade rolls.

What am I most grateful for this year - for miracles and that Mike will be sitting next to me, very much alive and gradually healing.

Have a safe and wonderful weekend.

Ya Think?!

2009-11-19T13:49:00.000-08:00

Mike is doing better. He was able to come home from the hospital after 2 days. He is not one who likes limiting his activity. He is one who is used to getting up by 5:30 in the morning so he can enjoy a beautiful sunrise before he charges into the day.

Only 2 months ago, he was very considerately helping me recover from surgery, reminding me to be patient and give myself time to heal. When I was discouraged, he was very kind and helpful. Now he is trying to let me encourage him to be patient.

Yeah, that's going well.

He has been deeply touched by all the kindnesses shown by so many people. And he is very anxious to return to all his work, service and recreational activities. He went on a hike a few days after the accident, he has been doing the home therapy exercises very consistently, he rode his bike on the indoor trainer within a week. We saw the osteopath last week. He said, with Mike being a non-smoker, non-drinker, no medical condition, good health and attitude, he could expect 98% recovery. When Mike glared at him, he quickly said, "Okay, you could probably get 100% recovery." Mike is going for 110%.

Unfortunately, he seems to think he should be at 110% by the end of the week.

As he so kindly reminded me last month, recovery is not always steady. It tends to go up and down like a roller coaster. One of the ways it does that is when one kind of pain seems to improve, another takes over and knocks you flat. Mike is finding out the many ways broken ribs and shoulder can hurt. He seems to be learning creative ways to find all the levels of the pain of healing, and get through them quickly.

Early Sunday morning, since he couldn't sleep, he got up very early, dressed in his suit, called for a ride, went to his early church leadership meetings, met me for choir practice before church, tried for three hours to find a comfortable way of sitting through church, went to a meeting after, and when he was finally home, let me put ice on his back and feed him painkillers. I had been trying for hours not to drag him back home and force him to rest. As he sat there, wincing in agony, he said, "I don't get it. I have this very sharp pain starting at my neck and shooting across my shoulder down my arm."

Any semblance of Florence Nightingale went out the window.

"Well, maybe, just maybe you have this pain because you broke your shoulder and ribs and just got out of the hospital!"

So anyway, Mike is progressing. Not sure I am.

The Wall Came tumbling Down

2009-11-14T14:40:00.000-08:00

20 years ago this week, November 9th to be exact, the Wall came down. It was an emotional time for me anyway. My daughters were 3 and 1, and I was emotional about anything that showed a better world for their future. Okay, so I am still and always have been emotional about anything that suggests a better world for anyone. I cry during Hallmark commercials (so do many of you so don't try to hide it).

But the fall of the Wall was especially important to me. I had grown up very aware of the iron curtain, the cold war, the arms race, participating in nuclear attack drills at school, seeing commercials and debates about how to deal with the evil menace, seeing many forms of pop culture that satirized life on both sides of the Wall.

I gained a whole new perspective in 1981 when I was able to visit the Soviet Union with a student group. I met students, professionals, soldiers, laborers, children, religious leaders, seniors, even members of the old guard. What I saw - they were all very much like people anywhere. They were doing the best with what they had, they loved their families, they cared about their children's future, they had individual strong opinions, they were willing to sacrifice in hope of a better tomorrow, they were very friendly and helpful, and they loved anything from the west. It was rare to see anyone behave harshly, or abusing their position of power.

One day we visited a school for advanced students from 3 to 16 years old. The teenagers were like any I had known growing up, and we had a great time visiting with them. When we were getting ready to leave, our group gathered in the foyer waiting for the bus. Some of the younger students were also getting ready to go home. It was cold outside, and I noticed a man in a soldier uniform helping his little boy bundle up in his sweater, coat and scarf. The man stuck the boy's small mittens on his own little finger while he was carefully buttoning up the coat, then he tenderly held the little boy next to him, out of the way of the crowd, talking softly to him until we had moved outside and they could leave without getting bumped around. The love and tenderness was so evident. I knew this man would do anything to protect his son.

No one can force anyone to change, even when the change seems to be better. But if any part of a forceful action seems to threaten children, people will die before giving in.

I realized the Wall could never successfully come down by force. Military force and intimidation has never successfully changed a civilization.

That same year - 1981 - my father started an organization called Food for Poland (That story is another blog). Its purpose was to send food to the striking workers' Solidarity union in Poland so they could resist the severe government control. It was one of many ways that people behind the Wall refused to continue without freedom. As they built civil resistance movements, and received help from many groups in the west, the old regime began to fail. For years we had spoken with Solidarity leaders, hearing of their hardships and loss, and determination to create a new government.

So on November 9th, while rocking my 1 year old to sleep, I wept as I watched the live news feed of people pouring through the gate, helping each other on both sides climb up and dance on top of the wall. Then, with their own hands and simple tools, they tore down the Wall. No guns, no tanks, no bombs. People on both sides had decided the wall was no longer needed, and no one could stop them.

One Wall down. How many more to go?

Hawaii Can Wait

2009-11-06T16:36:00.000-08:00

We got the tickets back in August, and Mike has been packing and planning for a week in Maui ever since. Every once in a while he would grin and do his "We're going to Maui" dance (No, I will not post a picture of that).

Wednesday morning he rode his bike to work. Less than a mile from his office he has to cross some old railroad tracks. He was going 25 miles an hour, and the last thing he remembers is swerving so he could cross the tracks at a 90 degree angle. After that, he has glimpses of someone standing over him as he lay on the ground, being in an ambulance in a neck brace strapped to a hard board, then in the ER, me next to the bed, then our bishop there giving him a blessing. After that, he became much more coherent, and all his circuits started firing. I had barely been holding my panic at bay until then. When his eyes started looking normal, and he started connecting the dots I let myself believe he would be okay. Shortly after that the doctor checked him, they removed the brace and board.

For a while it turned into a "Men Are From Mars" thing going on in the Emergency Room. One of his nurses was a big time biker as well, and he and Mike started exchanging road warrior stories. He looked at Mike's smashed and cracked helmet and said he had all of his totaled-by-an-accident helmets hanging in his garage like trophies. They were talking about the brand of bikes they rode, and comparing the size of their equipment, and I was fine with all that because it was distracting Mike from the trauma, and me from the drama. Then we were told he was being admitted to the hospital, and they brought a hospital gown for him. It was cold that morning, so Mike had several layers of biking shorts, jerseys and leggings. While I was concerned about the possible damage done to his brain and neck, he was worrying about damage to his favorite jersey and new bib shorts. His left shoulder was obviously damaged because he could not move or lift his arm, but he wanted me to try to lift his jerseys over his head. They had just given him some major pain killer, so he was willing to have me move his arm around for him. It was agony for him to get the first jersey off, and I said I would cut the second one off down the back so I could sew it back together. I went and asked the biker nurse for scissors to cut the jersey. He said, "Oh no, that would be tragic." He came in and worked with me to save the jersey. Mike was in pain but happy with the results. A non-biker would not have hesitated to sacrifice the shirt and save Mike from intense pain and an unintentional bone adjustment. I have not been able to penetrate the mysteries of the die-hard biker mind.

The most painful moment for Mike was when I said the words out loud, "We will not be going to Hawaii on Monday." He didn't seem to hear the next part - "It's all right, we will go another time. Hawaii will still be there. I am just glad you will be okay."

Actually, I am beyond glad. I was able to talk to the people who saw the accident and helped Mike. As soon as he got to the tracks, his bike tire caught on something, was yanked to the side and Mike went flying. He hit the ground with his head and left shoulder. There was no rolling or skidding. The initial impact was the full impact. One helper, whose friend will never be the same because of head trauma, thought Mike had the same kind of damage. When I talked to him Wednesday night he was amazed Mike's head and neck CT scans showed no injury. He was not surprised to hear about all the broken bones.

We can't always choose how miracles and healing come into our lives, but I know I will miss out if I am not willing to see it however it comes. So even though Mike has been in the hospital for 2 days, and he has 6 broken ribs, and 4 detached ribs, a 2 lung contusions, and a severely fractured scapula, and road rash on his head, shoulder, hip, knee, elbow and knuckles, and his pain is bad enough to cause his muscles to spasm, and he has to try to breathe deep and cough so he can expel the fluid from his bruised lungs... he also has a fully functioning brain, and is coherent, and more aware each moment of how fortunate he is to be alive.

So Hawaii can wait. We are busy enough creating healing and profound gratitude. So thank you for the people who stopped and helped, and the EMTs, and the great medical care, and great medicine, and the good insurance, and the blessings, the neighbors who walked Sam, the meals of comfort food from friends, the visits, the ice cream, the calls and messages, the thoughts and countless prayers, the love, and most of all, the miracles. Thank You for the miracles.

It Senses Fear

2009-10-31T19:13:00.000-07:00

Happy Halloween. Today we will be talking about one of the scariest things in the world - The Computer. Keep one thing in mind, it is not easy to scare me. I am the mother of teenagers, after all.

My kids have been able to make a computer obey their will since they were in pre-school. This is because they have never been afraid of them, or anything electronic, especially if it has buttons. Yes, I just said that my children are very good at pushing buttons. What child isn't, even when they become adults. Okay, especially when they become adults.

Back to computers. I have been very inconsistent when it comes to getting results from computers. I think it is because computers can sense fear. When I was growing up, the only time I saw computers was in movies where they were impersonal number crunching machines until they saw their opportunity to take over the world and end life as we know it. By the time personal computers began to breed and proliferate, I had decided I would never really need one and could avoid close contact. I didn't even use a calculator, just in case it could spread evil computer spores (I think those are called bytes). I got very good at figuring math problems in my head.

Then I met, fell in love with and married an electrical engineer who is also a self professed computer geek (the best looking one I've ever seen). He has never been afraid of computers. In fact, they tremble when he approaches them. He eats them for lunch. He says computers are stupid, they only do what people tell them to do. I want to believe him, but I would rather be afraid of computers than people. I am just sure that if I push the wrong button, everything will go poof and disappear. Uh, that has actually happened to me. The vanished items have not yet extended beyond my computer, but you never know.

Like I said, computers can sense fear. Mike can sit down in front of a computer, say "Let there be light", push a few buttons and the computer will obey. I can sit down, trying not to let it see me tremble, say "Please", push the same buttons, and it will not give me what I ask for. I swear there are times when I hear an evil little chuckle coming from the speakers.

So I have decided that each year I will declare another victory over my computer fear. I will learn how to do another task on the computer, and have it be second nature so it is the computer that is filled with fear and trembling. I am almost there with the blog. The text is not a problem, but I am not yet intuitive with adding photos and setting up the slide show on my art blog. I promise, by the time Christmas is here, I will be adding photos of my artwork with more than a "HO, HO, HO". I will be able to raise my arms, throw back my head and let out a triumphant and deep-throated "BWAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA".

Happy Halloween everyone.

Snow Day

2009-10-29T20:51:00.000-07:00

It has been snowing for 2 days. The snow is 2 feet deep outside my back door, deeper where it has drifted. I have not had to drive anywhere for over 36 hours. I don't have any kids living at home, and Mike has been out of town. It has been fun listening to the kids in the neighborhood celebrating two snow days in a row, sliding, building snowmen, snow forts and snowball fights. I have been able to handle all my work and meetings with phone calls and emails. I didn't want to take the car out of the driveway for more reasons than the condition of the road.

When I drove Mike to the airport early yesterday morning, the snow had started accumulating on top of ice on the roads and driveway. I was relieved to make it home without being or hitting one of the cars that was sliding off the roads. I felt the car slide a little as I pulled into the driveway. A few hours later when I took Sam out for a walk, I couldn't help but notice that my car had slid out into the road.

Not good.

I wondered how many cars and snowplows had made their way around my car while sliding around in the ever deeper snow. I pulled the car back into the driveway which, by the way, has a bit of a slope. I took Sam on a walk, even though it was more like he was tunneling since the snow was deeper than he is tall. When I got back in about 30 minutes, the car had slid back out into the road. I have still not recovered enough strength to shovel deep snow off the entire driveway, so I cleared paths for the tires down to the pavement. I figured the car wouldn't slide if the tires were in direct contact with the concrete, instead of sitting on packed ice. As I pulled the car in again, the back tires hit ice and slid. The car is now sitting sideways in the driveway with its back end in the plant bed next to the drive. I turned the tires parallel to the street, so it can't slide out anymore. I decided I did not want to move that car until the after-storm melting was well under way. I don't remember this type of activity being a part of past snow days.

I have enjoyed these days. I have taken Sam out several times to search for cleared areas so he doesn't have to get buried alive in order to relieve himself. I took pictures of the snow. I took dinner to my neighbor. Best of all I spent most of my time next to a nice fire, with a cup of hot chocolate, working on paintings. I have been able to try some new techniques, and finish the paintings without feeling rushed. I have been planning and working on these for months, and trying to get the final work just right. But there is something about being surrounded by the calm stillness of new snow that helps me let go of trying so hard to get it all right. I have been able to sit back and look at my work with new eyes. Then see where to do more, and let the rest just be.

It helped me finish my paintings as well.

Movie Moment Part 1

2009-10-21T18:48:00.000-07:00

There are those moments, you know the ones. When you look back, even if it was only 5 minutes ago, it is as though it could not have been better even if there had been an award winning script writer, set designers, casting agents, photographers, producer and a director. I was just watching the dvd of the 1999 London stage production of "Oklahoma". Loved it. It not only brought back great memories of London (not hard to do, I have so many of them) but also one of my movie moments.

I was a senior at Davis High School, the only high school with a Dart for a mascot, but that's another story. I was a new student there, just moved to town, trying to find my place. I tried out for the school musical, and got the part of Aunt Eller in "Oklahoma". I had no idea how great the theater department was at Davis, but quickly became very impressed. Our director, Sjob had a way of knowing how to bring the best people in who could get the best out of the student cast. I soon decided I had the best part in the musical, and I loved every part of being in it. I got to know everyone in the cast and crew, had a great time at the rehearsals, loved becoming Aunt Eller. All the cowboys were guys on the football team who took dancing lessons because the coach knew it would improve their coordination. Dancing football cowboys, instant friends, a great character part. What's not to love?

The technical, costume run through was on my birthday. I didn't have plans for my 18th, thought no one I knew would want to do anything after school with such a long rehearsal to get through. There is a scene where Aunt Eller is encouraging the farmers and the cowmen to be friends, but they keep getting into fights. At one point, I pull out a gun and fire it into the air to stop a fight, then point it at one of the farmers and tell him to sing about getting along. The cue is "Dum-diddy-um-dum-dum", then everyone is supposed to sing,"oh, the farmer and the cowmen should be friends" with scared looks on their faces. But at this point in the run through, they didn't look scared, they looked excited. Then they all, all 40 cast and crew and all the orchestra started singing, "Happy Birthday to You". Curly and Laura brought in a table with a huge birthday cake on it. I was stunned. Sjob, everyone in the musical, my family had all arranged to use the run through to surprise me on my birthday.

For a geeky new girl turning 18, it doesn't get better than that.

Turn Around . . .

2009-10-15T13:03:00.000-07:00

Anna has been drawing ever since she could grip a marker in her one year old hands. She would draw on anything, with anything. She was also good at multi-tasking. She could be drawing, and I would ask her something. She'd look up and talk to me while her hands continued to draw. Then she would look down as though nothing had interrupted. There were (and still are) many moments like this with each of my children when I wonder, "How did this strange and wonderful creature end up here, a part of my life?"

Now here she is, like the others, tall and gorgeous, and finding her way through the amazing, wonderful and frightening world. I prayed for strong willed children. I wanted children who would want to know and be willing to seek answers, to learn for themselves the miraculous life that is possible for them. Yes, at times I wonder what I was thinking, and wish that, for a time, they would just be blindly obedient. But most of the time, I am in awe. And I am grateful I get to be their mother.

I wonder if she still has that mystical awareness of the powerful creation that can flow from her hands. Has she become caught up in the physical act of seeing only with her eyes, or of seeing only what she thinks she already knows about herself? Can she still recall what it is like to just let wonder and beauty appear in the space around her, just because she picks up the tools and lets them move?

I might wonder about the things I would do differently, but I would not want to return to those early years. I want to relish today with her, even as she gets ready to take off again. Anna, just for a moment, do me a favor. Turn around.

Get a Day Job, and Marry Well

2009-10-13T13:16:00.000-07:00

My daughter, Anna is visiting this week. She is a busy college student who is generously spending some of her fall break with her parents. In spite of my best efforts, she chose not to major in something that would lead to her finding a cure for cancer. She is majoring in art, which is what I got my degree in. My advice to her - "Get a day job, and marry well." She asked if that meant she had to marry someone rich. No, marry someone who will be patient, understanding and happily supportive of the visual creative process that takes so much energy, time, resources and covers every horizontal surface of your home. One advantage of this to the artist's spouse, the possibility of earning sainthood in this life. I asked her to really think about how much of the house has always been taken over because of my involvement in creating and teaching art, and how her dad has not only accepted it, but encouraged and enjoyed it (He really likes it when I use his power tools in my artwork). After a pause she said, "Wow, yeah."

As for the day job - It would be nice if every good artist could make a living creating their best, original art. Unfortunately, good artists rank even lower than good teachers as far as recognition and compensation. But good artists often (not always) make excellent teachers. The practice of visual creation helps in the practice of creation with space, time and people which is essential for effective teaching. I hope Anna will choose to be one. She would be great.

So this week, we are creating art together. She wants to pillage my studio, and I will let her since she is taking a bookbinding class, and since she is willing to let me teach her a few things. That is a rare gift to a parent from a college student. In between all this there is hiking, swimming and biking with her dad. I want her to see that I am not the only one of her parents who married well.

That's Bookmaker, Not Bookie

2009-10-07T22:22:00.000-07:00

I am a Book Artist, sometimes called a Bookmaker. Yes, I usually get a confused or even concerned look from people when they hear me say that. "So...you write books?" Sometimes I write the words that I then letter in the books, but I am not an author. "Oh. So...you illustrate books?" I paint and collage the pages of the books I make, but I am not an illustrator. I make books, and sometimes I design and make a book so that the book itself is a piece of art. Most of the classes I have taught during the last 10 years have to do with making books.

Here is the great thing about books - You can use all 5 of your senses when you look at a book. You see it (Not just to read it. Some books will sell solely on the power of the cover art, especially if that includes the words "Oprah's Book Club Choice".), touch it (Admit it, there is something comforting about holding a well bound book in your hand) , there is sound made when your hands move across the covers and turn the pages (anyone who has tried reading in bed when the person next to them is a light sleeper knows this), taste it (No, I am not suggesting a literal devouring of the pages. But think of how often the combination of other senses with descriptive words such as those in "My Life In France" will cause drooling, uh, I mean salivating.), and the scent of the book can be very subtle, or strong enough to take you back to when you were curled in your dad's lap, and he would read stories from a book full of pictures you could enjoy as you thought how brilliant he was to be able to decipher the words that were still a mystery to you.

I have loved books since I first got my grubby little hands on one. I have been a book artist for almost as long. Just ask my mom how often I drew in, painted, cut and tore pages in my favorite books. Now I make books where every surface, even the thin edge of the page is covered with my painting, lettering and collage.

Some say the printed book is dying, and the future is all electronic. I agree there is a place for this Kindle thing, and someday I might own one when I can no longer carry all the books I want with me on a trip (oh wait, I've never been able to do that). But the printed book is too much a part of human history (that story would fill a whole library), too much a part of our senses. I only hope that Mark Twain's quote - "The reports of my death are greatly exaggerated" will always apply to books. If nothing else, it gives children who are read to several wonderful years of believing they have brilliant, omniscient parents.

It's a Dog's Life

2009-09-25T20:59:00.000-07:00

His name is Sam. We rescued him from the shelter about 2 1/2 years ago. He is a scruffy little mutt, with wild uneven fur, kind of like my wild uneven hair. He was a skinny, sore-covered bag of bones when we got him. But he has always been so happy and grateful to see us, even from the first moment we looked at him through the cage door. The vet calls him a terriorist, and said we might never be able to train him to like other dogs. He is sure he is the biggest, toughest dog anywhere and he has tried to go after huge police dogs. But he loves people (except for this kid who was mean to my son and he also would not leave Sam alone and Sam bit him and I must admit I don't feel too terrible about that) and I can never quite get over how good it feels to see him so excited every single time I come in the door, even if I only left 5 minutes ago. He has fleshed out to 14 lbs. and his sores are gone. His back legs are like coiled springs and he can jump straight up to lick my nose. He has short hair except for a ridge of long course hair that runs from his forehead to his haunches, and he lets me spike it into a body length mohawk. His eyes are rimmed in black, like Captain Jack Sparrow, and the thought that anyone could hurt or neglect him is hard to imagine.

He has been my constant little guardian since I came home from the hospital. He has learned how to slide himself along my side and rest between me and the cushion whenever I lie down on the couch. He stretches his chin up and looks with concern when I dealing with pain. He leaps around like an acrobat to encourage me every time I get up. I have decided that he must be showing infinite patience, waiting until I am strong enough to again take him on our daily 3 mile walk, even though I don't think patience is his thing. Mike brought Sam in the car when he came to pick me up at an appointment, Sam was trying to paw his way through the window, he was so excited to see me. I have decided that there is some kind of magic healing power in having him around. Sam is a real artist at it.

No, it is not close to the same kind of love and connection I have for my children and human loved ones, but I do find myself wondering how we got along without him. I don't consider myself a "dog" person, but I have begun to think there must be a place in heaven for at least some of these mutts. Sam would be great as a greeter.

That's Karma with a capital K

2009-09-21T19:05:00.000-07:00

I have been thinking about energy lately. Mostly because I don't have much. I don't know if all of my energy is concentrating on healing from a large incision and inner abdominal weed-wacking action, but I have not been able to do much more than walk very short distances, and concentrate on sitting still in the least painful position. This gives me opportunity to think about things such as how little patience I have with this, and about energy.

Even though I don't have much energy, I seem to be surrounded by it. Mike is there to help me walk, bring me caloric sustenance, drive me places. Friends have appeared almost like magic when I have needed help, company, food, prayers, or chocolate. My sisters, daughters, Mom and other loved ones have called or emailed just at the right time. What is the energy that reaches out and nudges us at times?

I am a child of the 60's, and I have heard about karma since I was a child. I liked the idea of there being a type of cosmic energy that flows everywhere, and I can pull more towards me by doing things that create life and love, or I will repel it when I am destructive. It went right along with my very early awareness of God, and the divine connection we all have. I used to think that connection was not physical, but an intangible spiritual one. I have come to see that everything spiritual is also very physical. Something physical happens when we reach out and help each other, when we suddenly think of someone and call them, when we pray or meditate or express thoughts of love and healing for someone, even if we don't know them. Molecules line up, energy flows, healing occurs. The strongest power on Earth. There is no way to explain it. Modern science has not found a way to explain what some people have known for thousands of years. But that is not what modern science is for.

I like the idea of unseen energy particles being influenced by our thoughts and actions. It would be nice to think that the influence can only flow in a positive direction, and I cringe to think of all the times I sent out toxic waste karma particles, creating superfund clean-up sites for myself and others. But I love the power of karma, positive vibes, forgiveness, atonement. When all of my body's energy seems to be needed for physical healing, I am so grateful for molecules that flow over and around me because of others. I promise to let it work magic so I can soon focus my energy outward.

So bring it on - Jennifer with the karma from India, Katherine with the fatted calf in California, Charlotte with the 1000 person service day, Mom with the happy life, spirit siblings with the prayers, books, flowers and yummy food, and most of all, Mike with the healing hands and kisses. Really, I can take it.

In the Name of Who?

2009-09-11T21:14:00.000-07:00

People have been doing and saying things in the name of God since the moment people had a name for God. The well known acts in the name of God tend to be destructive and violent - wars, genocide, abuse, etc. The lesser known but I believe more numerous are acts of love, service and mercy.

Today - 9/11 has become a day we remember one of the more public acts of our time. Even though it began with unthinkable violence, it ended with tremendous acts of sacrifice, courage and mercy. Which acts were really done in the name of God?

I know people who are Muslim, who are good and kind and follow the same kind of creed I try to follow as a Christian. I have heard them say that no true Muslim could have flown those planes into the buildings. I agree, just as I think no true Christian could have followed Hitler, or killed civil rights workers, or tortured prisoners. How many gods do we think will justify us?

There were so many who died on this day 8 years ago, most of them not knowing they would. I do believe they were all greeted by the same God. I believe that God loves all of them, and wept for those whose hatred motivated such violence. I can't imagine the mercy that was extended to all that day. I don't want to try, because that would set limits on it. I don't want there to be a limit on God's mercy, because I need it. How can I hope for it, yet think it should not extend to others?

It is a day of difficult thoughts and questions. I am glad it is now a national day of service. No matter what we claim to do in God's name, the only things that bring us closer to God are acts of love, service, atonement.

My friend had a baby today. Some might see this as a tough birthday to have. But more and more it is a day to remember the countless acts of love on that day. We might not always see it in the headlines, but this is a good world to bring new life into. So many opportunities to learn love, mercy, forgiveness. To learn to be like God. Happy Birthday Little One.

Really, I'm fine (F.reaked out, I.nsecure, N.eurotic, E.motional)

2009-09-06T07:18:00.000-07:00

I had surgery 4 days ago. I am writing this under the influence of percocet, so please keep that in mind.

For the last 4 days the first thing most people ask me is "How are you?" At what point in my life did I develop the automatic response "I'm fine"? It is a good thing many nurses are trained to read body language . They usually asked, "On a scale of 1 to 10, what level is your pain right now?' That was a question that did not involve my past but let me communicate in the here and now. "10! Drugs! Now!"

While it was nice to have people constantly checking on my pain level and making sure my body was capable of returning to full functionality, a hospital is not a place for resting. Even if I hadn't been surrounded by strange sounds, or people constantly checking vital signs or vampires taking blood, hospital beds must be the most uncomfortable in the world. It was great motivation to get up and walk around as soon and as often as I possibly could. It was the most I could do to create healing - get up and get moving.

Now I am home, resting comfortably, sleeping a lot, eating wonderful food brought by wonderful people, being cared for by wonderful Mike. Sometimes I am fine - as in Freaked out, Insecure, Neurotic, Emotional. But more and more, I am fine, really. I think all of us are, especially when we remember we are never really on our own. There are those who are willing to share the pain, make sure we can function, feed us when we can't feed ourselves, and love us no matter how we look or feel.

Hearing is the 2nd thing to go, I can't remember the 1st.

2009-08-31T20:04:00.000-07:00

When I got up this morning I got to work taking care of all the things I want to get done before my surgery on Wednesday. Paper work, cleaning, correspondence, church service, email, family calls, so many things came to mind. But I kept wondering what I was forgetting. I took my dog Sam on a walk later in the morning. As I was walking through the neighborhood a few blocks away, I noticed a lot of cars parked in one area that was near my friend Sarah's house. I thought, "There must be some party going on in one of these houses." Soon after I got home, I got a call from Sarah. "Jody, I feel bad giving you a reminder call, but I think you told me you were planning on coming to Kim's shower at my house this morning." I almost yelled a word I only use when I am talking to my sister's. It all came back to me. I grabbed the gift I had set out to wrap, but had not noticed this morning, and hurried back down to Sarah's house.

Here's the thing. I had received an invitation last week and said I would come. I had set the gift out so I would remember to wrap it. I saw Kim yesterday and told her I would see her at her shower. I had written myself a reminder on a post-it (I think post-its were invented for me) and stuck it where I would be sure to see it since I knew I would have lots on my mind and I would want this reminder. But I didn't notice the gift or the note this morning, I forgot the conversations with Sarah and Kim, and even when I was walking by Sarah's house and saw all the cars, the memory did not connect. I cannot begin to number the countless complex things I can remember, but the few things that I forget like I did today really bug me. Then I remember that we are not here alone, and we are surrounded by others who remind us.

So I am especially grateful for people who help me remember what life is about. Part of life today was about going to my favorite kind of baby shower. Go, eat, give and open gifts, chat with good friends about the meaning of life, and leave full of food and love. Thanks for the reminder.

It Needs a Skirt

2009-08-31T13:49:00.000-07:00

I belong to a yahoo group of mixed media artists. One recently wrote about an extended family gathering for a funeral. This amazing woman creates and teaches wonderful art journals, and organizes several great artfests that inspire thousands every year. Some family members looked at her artwork for the first time at this gathering, said, "So you just cut and paste", then turned away without a second glance. This is not an unfamiliar experience for any visual artist.

I remember when I created an art doll for a juried exhibit that was going to tour nationally. I created a pattern for a figure of a woman. She was seated on a stack of antique books, holding an antique pen writing on a piece of handmade paper. Her hair is wild, like mine. Instead of clothing, I lettered the titles of many of the books I have read in different colors, styles and multiple layers. She is called "A Woman of Letters". I finally finished her the day submissions were due. A friend of mine who had been trying to get me to stop doing my own "stuff" and join her at the decorative painting classes where everyone makes the same thing, came to look at the doll. She said, "It needs a skirt" and then left. I was just beginning to learn to not mutter "Heathen" under my breath.

The doll was juried into the exhibit and travelled to places in the country I haven't been. I reworked her this year and submitted her for publication. She will be in the Art Doll Quarterly that comes out in November.

I learned long ago not to take comments about my artwork personally. I don't even like or dislike someone based on that. Visual art creates such an intensely personal experience. I don't expect others to like what I make or what I like just because I do. If I am too attached to something, I don't display it where others could put me in the painful position of being rejected. But I am rarely that attached to something. I love surrounding myself with creations, by myself and others. Others will like them or not. But they breathe life into me every time I see them. Mike long ago stopped worrying about nail holes in the walls. He helps me hang artwork up before we put furniture in a room.

So holes-in-walls be damned, heathens be pitied, surround yourself with art that breathes life into you.

What kind of health plan is this?

2009-08-27T22:47:00.000-07:00

I am having surgery next week. A part of me that was once instrumental in a high level of creation is now causing some serious pain and complex health problems. So it is time for me to let it go, set it free, yank it, whatever - and then hope the problems go with it.

I went to the hospital for some pre-op lab work, and that included an hour long grilling session where I had to answer inquiries about every aspect of my physical, mental and emotional health, past, present and future. They didn't seem too concerned about my spiritual health.

Each time I go to the hospital, regardless of the "procedure" I am having, it seems that all modesty, propriety, and privacy is left at the door, just as surely as if there was a coat check room for it. The adventure comes in seeing how the lack of privacy manifests itself. This time I thought I might get by with minimal invasion, knowing that next weeks surgery would more than make up for it. But no, it was not to be. The medical history interview took place in a room with three desks, and one lounge chair where the patient sits while having the lab work done. I was the only patient for a while. I sat by one of the desks and answered questions being asked by a nice enough matronly office worker. The phlebotomist (needle lady, vampire) came and had me sit in the lounge chair while she took blood. She was good, and I barely felt a prick. But there was a tall guy leaning over her shoulder watching everything, including my reaction. I don't know what he thought it would be since the interrogator continued to question me and my responses didn't pause. They left and I returned to the desk side chair. The questions got more personal. When I shook my head "No" to the question "Are you using recreational drugs or addicted to prescription painkillers?" I wondered, what would they do if someone said yes. Does anyone ever say yes?

Then another patient and questioner came in and started the process at another desk. Another tech came to do the EKG on me and I was glad that this time she pulled the curtain around the lounge chair. But the questions continued to be called out to me through the curtain, and I answered intimate health details back while the other patient conversation continued on and I tried to ignore it. I asked myself, "How does all this contribute to the healing process?"

I guess I can't wait around while others figure out what it takes for us all to be healthy, or how to make sure the insurance companies and the lawyers and the voters all agree. I get the option of choosing to be healthy in whatever way I can, no matter how much is going on around me. Not always easy, but there it is. So right now, even as I create visual artwork, I create healing, I create healing, I create healing.

Like Grandfather, Like Granddaughter

2009-08-24T19:06:00.000-07:00

So my daughter Charlotte called with great news. She received a research grant for her senior thesis. She is preparing for her final year as an undergraduate at University of Utah. She is planning on doing graduate work in Mormon Studies, which is what my dad devoted so much effort to during his final years of teaching (This photo is of Dad (Eugene England) in his office in 1998). Charlotte wants to do her senior thesis on my dad and his writings about Mormon Culture, studies and literature. Several years ago she attended a banquet for the 40th anniversary of Dialogue: A Journal of Mormon Thought (Dad was one of the founding editors). She sat at a table with people who had known and worked with Dad, and they shared experiences with Charlotte about her grandpa who she had just begun to know when she was 15 when he died. She called me the day after the banquet telling me how excited she was about what she had heard and learned. "This is what I want to do, learn more about what Grandpa was doing, and continue on with it." It was a bittersweet moment for me. I love the passion Charlotte has to learn more about Dad, read his writings (I think she is currently the only grandchild who is) and carry on with what he was trying to do by helping establish Mormon studies programs in college and universities that should have had them long ago. And I wish Dad were here to be the one to mentor Charlotte through this time. It is one of the things that I miss most about Dad being gone, I really wanted my kids to be able to take classes from him, and have that classroom experience unlike any other. But this is one of the ways that creation of life continues on. Dad created language in his speaking and writing that breathes life into Charlotte years after he is gone. And hearts turn from children to fathers and mothers, from parents to sons and daughters, and the world is saved again.

Gravity Works

2009-08-22T20:35:00.000-07:00

Today is our 25th wedding anniversary. We have been having a great time relaxing and doing things at the spur of the moment. Our major celebration will be a trip to Maui in November, which Mike talks about everyday. He is part fish and cannot wait to swim with some of his cousins in the waters of Maui.

We celebrated today by going to the new Cirque du Soleil here in Denver called Kooza. My son calls it entertainment for old people, but I saw plenty of kids there. This show is heavy on the acrobatics, some traditional like tightrope, and juggling and balancing on a tower of chairs (all very impressive). Others were very innovative, and I couldn't help spontaneously gasping, oohing and crying out in amazement, then cheering wildly. My favorite was two guys flying around on a gigantic, vertically spinning double wheel (you have got to see it to have any idea what this is like). I was impressed with how different and creative their act was, and thought about what they and so many of the others were creating with. They are creating with gravity and physics. They have become intimately acquainted with how gravity and inertia and centrifugal - centripetal force works on them and their surroundings, and they create ways of working with it. They knew exactly when to grab onto their gigantic wheels, how to get them to spin incredibly fast, exactly when to let go so physical forces would allow them to fly, and exactly when and where to grab the wheel again.

I am learning how to do this myself. There are life forces all around me. When I don't want to acknowledge and respect them, when I resist what they are, I feel beaten and crushed. When I appreciate the power of life, of living, I find I can hang on to what gives me strength or what needs my strength, let go of people and things that no longer need to be held by me, and freedom to fly is there for us all.

Thank you, Michael, for choosing to create flight with me for 25 years. "To infinity . . . and beyond!"

My big sister

2009-08-20T14:30:00.000-07:00

I have 4 sisters. Katherine is my one and only sister who has lived longer than I have. Several decades ago I didn't have much appreciation for the teeny little bit of extra knowledge and experience that 21 months might give her. I was able to talk with her for a while the other day and I found myself appreciating the many ways she has been so generous and patient as a big sister this year. Even though we are different in many ways, I have loved enjoying and sharing the many ways we are one and the same. It helps me, as a mother, to know that I am not the only one who is simultaneously thrilled and in awe of my children, at the same time painfully worried about what they will deal with as they break away on their own. I am reminded of how lucky I am to have such a sister. What would we do without each other?

I have been scanning and organizing the thousands of slides my parents have, and some of my favorites are from when I was too young to remember. I might not be able to recall this moment with Katherine, but somewhere in my soul, I cherish it.

Stronger than death

2009-08-19T17:51:00.000-07:00

Last night I heard that a friend of mine from my last neighborhood had died. She was my age, and she somehow got an infection. By the time they found it, it was too late and she couldn't be saved. This all happened in a coupe of days.

This was an amazing woman, involved in so much, helping many people. She and her husband had adopted 4 orphans from Europe, in addition to raising 5 of their own children. They were true partners, obviously united and in love. Reading her obituary, I can just feel her family's sorrow and loss. What is it that is stronger than death that gets us through something like this?

Almost 24 years ago, when my daughter was only a month old, I got a breast infection that exploded into toxic shock syndrome. The doctors told Mike and my parents I wouldn't make it. But I did. I could dwell on questioning why, but I don't.

How does the love we have for each other, the love we feel from each other, from God, help us get through the things that happen that seem worse than death. Only when love is stronger than death. That is an act of creation. I am grateful for the people I know, some no longer alive, who inspire the creation of love that strong.

If I am an empty-nester, why is my house so cluttered?

2009-08-18T12:00:00.000-07:00

Mike and I live in a 5 bedroom home, and all three of our children live away at college. When we have visitors, all the bedrooms are used, but in between, it is the two of us. We are actually enjoying many aspects of this new life (I don't need to go into details). But it still amazes me how much of the house is full of stuff, stuff, stuff. Much of my art work involves collage and assemblage, so I don't consider all of the bins of vintage (old to the heathen) items (junk to the heathen) as anything that contributes to the clutter.

Since moving to Colorado 3 years ago, I have been going through every box that was not purged before the move. I thought I had really cleared out a lot, but I think I just created vacuums which pulled in more stuff when my back was turned. When I pull things out now, I ask "Does this do anything to help me have the kind of life I want?" The answer is what determines where it goes. There are people who are thrilled I am willing to sell or give away so much from my past life at such low cost to them. I like knowing there are people who are weaving, sewing, creating with their kids, wearing clothes and playing with toys that were once packed away in my closets. Today I will set more things free so they can, like my kids, go find their own way in the world. I wish I worried about my kids as little as I worry about the stuff.

8 years ago

2009-08-17T10:32:00.000-07:00

My dad died 8 years ago today. I miss him everyday. In 2003 I asked people to be a part of a team for Race for the Cure. My sister Jennifer and I designed a shirt so we could all run or walk in memory of dad. The phrase we put under the great picture Jennifer made was "Dash for Life. In memory of Eugene England 1933-2001, What are you doing in the dash?"

One of Dad's favorite phrases was "Gotta dash!" And then he would. He seemed to be in constant motion, learning, sharing, speaking, gathering, making a difference, and always having a great time. I was in a class the year after he died and shared some of the amazing impact Dad had on so many lives. The teacher shared an observation from another teacher. On a headstone there is a birth date and a death date, with a dash in between. There are three things certain in this world - we are all born, we will all die, and we all have complete say in who we will be in the time in between.

I saw how much Dad chose to create with that little dash between 1933 and 2001, regardless of the circumstances or how people behaved around him.

Today I create some of Dad's favorite chocolate chip cookies, a drawing to begin my next painting, time for a bike ride then a drive through the mountains with Mike, a call to my kids and a call to Mom to wish her love.

blog beginnings

2009-08-15T18:57:00.000-07:00

This is a blog about creation, about creativity, about creating. I am a visual artist and an art teacher, but I see those pursuits as a means of teaching and practicing creativity in all areas of life. I think, as human beings, we are all creative, we are all artists. I think we each have the power and ability to create our own life, more powerfully and in the face of our circumstances. This blog is an opportunity to share and be in a dialogue about creating life.

I am hoping it will help me be more aware of the many ways I see creation in my life, and the impact it can have on me and others.

My youngest child just moved out and started college. A new type of life is beginning for me.

Today is August 15, 2009. Mike and I created an adventure together. We went on a tandem bike ride to Chatsfield reservoir. We were going to go up to Frisco and ride the bike up to Vail Pass, but the weather looked stormy. It is the first time I have ridden to Chatsfield, and it was gorgeous. It is over 16 miles each way. Less than 4 miles into the return trip the thunder and lightning started, followed by the stinging rain and hail. I was glad that Mike is such a great windshield for me when we are on the tandem. Halfway home, the rain let up and the tire blew out. It was interesting creating a ride home when everyone we knew was gone for the day. We are glad for friends with teenagers with driver's licenses who are generous enough to give a ride to stranded oldies on a Saturday afternoon.

Tonight we helped create a neighborhood memory. We joined with others who were shooting potatoes through an ingenious potato gun made by neighbor Grover. It is always a hoot seeing boys (of all ages) with their toys. The two potato guns were made out of pvc pipe. Grover had carefully researched which kind would hold up under 200 psi air pressure. He had bevelled the end of the pipe so the edges of the potato would cut away as it was rammed down into the gun. Talk about creativity! The potatoes shot several hundred yards over the houses at the end of the circle into the field behind.

Then I came home and created my first blog. Next step - learn how to attach photos and customize. What are you creating with materials, time, relationships, space, anything?