Thanks

My daughter-in-law Dorothy is pregnant. You may remember that she is Carmen's mother. She and Reed decided that another baby would help mend their hearts, so this little one is due in January. But last Monday Dorothy was cramping and bleeding so I told her I would come on Tuesday and be her slave for a day so she could rest and get things settled down with her very pregnant body. So that's what I did. The four boys were engaged in a Harry Potter video marathon when I arrived. Vincent was sick and had thrown up. I cleaned up some of that mess and generally straightened things up. I also looked after their foster son, Eric, a cute little toddler. Dorothy slept while I did her grocery shopping. I left for home in the afternoon, feeling good about doing something good.

By Wednesday night I realized that Vincent had kindly passed his sickness on to me! Can you imagine my disappointment in awakening on Thanksgiving day with visions of throwing up instead of turkey? In fact, the thoughts of the turkey brought on major nausea. My darling husband kept me tucked in bed while he finished our Thanksgiving preparations and assisted our downstairs family in serving it up. And so the party went on without me. What luck to be sick on the very day when feasting is in order. How unfair! By evening I could feel myself rallying. Friday morning found me feeling almost normal and by Saturday it was as if nothing had happened. Thank goodness for left-overs.

The picture above shows Layne at work on our Thanksgiving menu. Below him Isaiah is passing by me with his celebratory dessert. You can see my red toes at the bottom of the picture.

There is not much good to say about being sick. But one good thing I can say, in hindsight, is that I am so grateful to feel good, to be healthy, to have energy for living! Why is it that losing something raises its value? Why can I not be just as grateful for those things which I always have and enjoy? I am working on perfecting my sense of gratitude, as I find it is, for me, a key to happiness.

Traditions

Our granddaughter Carmen has been gone for almost two years now. She would be 10 if she were still with us. It struck me today, during a discussion at Church, that the reason I can feel some peace about losing her is that I believe in happy endings. I think the Lord is a "romantic" of sorts. He plans these happy endings for all who will look to Him and trust in His decisions. I have faith that her passing will somehow work to the good of all of us, including her. But I miss her.

While we were visiting Seattle, I saw a poem written about Carmen by my granddaughter, Gemma. Gemma and Carmen are the same age and were great friends. I was so touched by Gemma's poem that I'm including it here.

I am nice and imaginative
I wonder if I'll ever see my lost one again.
I hear the ocean's voice
I see a girl smiling outside my window
I want my Carmen back
I am nice and imaginative.

I pretend that there is an angel by my side
I feel sad about a meaning that just got worse
I touch a cobra
I worry that I will get turned into soap
I cry for my Carmen
I am nice and imaginative.

I understand that people can turn to soap
I say there are futures that are real
I dream that Carmen smiles to me
I try to play violin
I hope for a million guinea pigs
I am nice and imaginative.
(by Gemma Gendreau)

For his eagle project, a scout in Reed and Dorothy's ward decided to build a bench in Carmen's name, to be placed at her elementary school. He held a fund raiser at the Digger's restaurant in Brentwood last Monday night. We piled into Audrey and Cliff's big car and drove there for dinner. The place was packed, mostly with people responding to the fund raiser. I'm so amazed at the outpouring of love for Carmen, even now. Her life, and her death, has rippled through this amazing community in a wonderful way. Brentwood has endeared itself to us.

When I was a little girl, we visited Colorado every summer, during Daddy's vacation. Our grandparents and great-grandparents lived there. My great-grandmother, Eva Halfacre ("Gram"), made wonderful cherry pies. Her cherry orchard provided the most important ingredient. Gram cooled her pies in the window sill, just like you see in the story books. Her daughter, my grandmother Margaret, also made wonderful pies. My mother caught the knack of delicious pies as well. Pie is our family thing. It is the favored dessert. I like to think that I inherited a pie gift as well. My girls have only a passing interest in the family gift. But some of my granddaughters have shown an interest. Rayne is an excellent pie maker.

Our daughter-in-law, Jessica, called me this week and asked me to teach her kids to make pie. It seems her daughters, Alexis and Jacqueline, want to learn the art. So the whole Ben-Jes gang came over on Saturday for pie lessons. All five of the kids began the lesson but Alexis and Jacq managed to endure to the end. We made the pastry and then homemade pudding for the filling. Their pastry turned out tender and good (the secret to good pie). I was proud of them. So perhaps there is hope for the family pie tradition to continue. Yes, I know, pie isn't the most important tradition in a family, but a pie thread weaving its way through our family is a sweet thought to me.

Top picture is of Gemma and her brother, Miles with their pet guinea pig. Middle picture shows
granddaughters Abigail (with the binky), Jacqueline and Alexis. Bottom picture is of Jacqueline and brother William rolling our their pie pastry. It turned out tender and tasty!

Seattle on the Fly

Daughter Jessica has lately mentioned with some urgency that we are not visiting her often enough. She has recently opened a used book store called "Bumbershoot Books", in the Seattle area. It is so far holding its own. Layne is helping her organized her book work. We have felt unable to travel while Mom is with us. But we decided to experiment with a very brief trip to Seattle, to spend a day with Jes and her family. So, after our Temple day on Wednesday, we rested briefly and headed for the airport. I must mention here that going to Seattle by air is quite risky for stand-bys. There is usually no room. But the late flight on Wednesday night looked promising, so we went for it. We were blessed. We got on the plane with room to spare, arriving in Seattle at 10 PM. Not much of Wednesday was left for visiting but we got a few minutes in before going to bed for the night.

Jessica suggested that we walk to her store on Thursday morning. It was a 2 mile, hilly walk. Her little store is a welcoming place, full of books of course, but also a fireplace with comfortable chairs; an invitation to sit and read and stay awhile. So, while Layne looked over her paper work, that is what I did: sit awhile in front of the fire and read. Then Jes and I walked back to her house, via another bookstore located on our way home. Jes made friends with the owner, encouraging friendship and cooperation. Her offer was happily accepted. So she has managed to make friends with all the book store owners in the area. A good move, I say. Benevolence is usually the best way.

So we walked about 4 miles on Thursday. Did I mention that I have a sore knee? Amazingly, it didn't seem to mind the walk much. I spent the rest of the day re-upholstering a love seat for Jes. it matches the chair I did for her earlier. I was so proud of myself for finishing it! I worked on it for 4 hours and that was enough, amazingly. Gemma and I cooked dinner for everyone after that and then, after a little kid bonding, we went to bed. It was a jam-packed day filled with physical exertion. I survived it! Friday morning we caught a 6 AM flight back home and walked in our door by 10 AM. How amazingly lucky is that! We managed to catch both flights we tried for. What a rare and wonderful blessing. Mom was in good shape when we returned, so we'll go again, for two days instead of one next time.

Layne asked ME to dance on Saturday. That is a rare but welcomed occurrence for my non-dancing man. Since we are now dancing in a Nutcracker performance, my perfectionist husband wants to get the steps down perfectly as soon as possible so he can quit worrying about it. So, joyfully, I accept his regular offers to dance and we are becoming quite proficient. I'm proud of him.

Sometimes I think I am right on top of things and doing well and sometimes I feel so out of control. I taught my 14 and 15 year old Sunday School class again. I felt so inspired while preparing the lesson but it melted into a mediocre lesson today. I can't seem to control when I can access the Spirit to help me and when I cannot. Sometimes ideas flow through me at a rapid rate and sometimes there are none at all. I cannot seem to predict or plan it. I find that a little frustrating.

Pictures: Top is daughter Jessica and her youngest, Peyton. Middle picture is her son, Miles. Below him is Gemma, Jessica's oldest. The picture at left is of Jessica's business card, in the shape of a bookmark.

Spooking

"I'll be glad when this stage is over," Mom said as I was helping her brush her teeth. I am amazed by my mother's optimism. She still has hopes of recovering her strength and returning to her independent lifestyle. Most of the time anyhow. But it has been 2 1/2 years since her stroke, and so it is obvious, even to my hopeful self, that she is not going to recover anymore function. I smile inside at her comment but do not respond to it. Should I dash her hopes in the name of reality? My instincts say no. For who really knows the details of the future?

During our Sacrament meeting at Church Sunday, one of our young men fainted, by the doorway near us. Layne was up like a shot and had him in his arms. As the young man, Jared, began to come to, he leaned on Layne as they made their way to the couch in the foyer outside the chapel. One of our nurses was soon at Jared's side and declared that he need something sweet. We provided it. Once recovered, Jared looked at Layne and said, "Brother Galbraith, did you really pick me up and carry me here? I thought you were way past your prime!" Layne laughed and laughed at that. But isn't it wonderful that my 70 year old man can carry a 6'3" young man? I'm proud of him.

The local kids asked us if they could spend Halloween with us. Since it fell on a Sunday this year, they were hoping for a more "sabbathy" celebration. Ideas poured into my mind as I thought about a Sabbath Halloween. For some reason I felt an excitement about it. Halloween isn't my favorite holiday, but I couldn't resist an almost explosive enthusiasm. I came up with a plan. When it comes to children, the best laid plans are always altered by reality. This was no exception. Yet the day turned out to be pretty close to the plan I had in my head. Our gang arrived at dinner time (since Church for us doesn't end until 4 PM). We had monster pizzas, with everyone creating their own pizza by decorating it to look like a monster. Some did it, some didn't but it was all fun. I made sour dough bread in the shape of a spider. Layne's punch was cooled by ice shaped like a hand. We also had salad and chili. It was fun! Afterward we invited the kids to trick or treat at 6 doors located throughout the house. A grown-up was behind each door. To get a treat each child had to answer a gospel question. Ben's Jessica provided all the treats and they were fabulous--all home-made. More fun. Then we had a short lesson on how a Christian is like a pumpkin. Then dessert for the grown-ups. All things considered, it was a great evening.

The picture above is of grandson Isaiah, doing his best to sneer, in his Halloween costume. Can you guess what he is? That's a box of cereal on his chest, with arrows going through it. He's a "cereal killer". Did you guess it? It was an award-winner! He's standing in my art room, which I am in the process of re-organizing. That hopefully explains the messy background.

I read a book on aging that divided the elderly into two categories: the young-old and the old-old. Layne and I are in the former category at the moment. For us life is quite enjoyable. It is busy, but we are healthy and able to do just about all that we have ever done. I'm grateful for that and do not think about what will come when we enter the old-old stage. Perhaps we should put more planning into that time of life, but some kinds of forecasting do not serve us well.

This lamp at the right was once my grandmother's. She bought it many years ago in Mexico. It was originally a mottled combination of colors. Isaiah and I painted it black and put it out for our Halloween Sunday. I love it!