May

In 1964, when a blizzard forces Dr. David Henry to deliver his own twins, he immediately recognizes that one of them has Down Syndrome and makes a split-second decision that will haunt all their lives forever. He asks his nurse to take the baby away to an institution and to keep her birth a secret. Instead, she disappears into another city to raise the child as her own. Compulsively readable and deeply moving, The Memory Keeper's Daughter is an astonishing tale of redemptive love. 

Sore...

I didn't expect to have aching arms after having said yes to working at the Church's Welfare Square. I had never been there even for a tour before, and I was asked by someone if I could take their place, due to a prior obligation of theirs.

When I signed in I was directed to sit in a room with a group of older men. Being the only girl, they decided to make me the object of their fun. One man started singing "I'm a lonely little petunia in an onion patch..." and another took the liberty of telling me how he was better than the rest when it came to looks. Too funny.

I stood at the end of an assembly line, moving jars of jam onto an ever-so-slow moving conveyer belt. The quota for the day was 15,000 jars of jam. That's a lot of jam. I calculated moving close to 130 jars in a five minute period of time. Times that by 3 hours... 5,000 jars of jam. Need I say more?

I did come away with a jar of delicious raspberry jam, on top of a newfound  knowledge of how cool the Welfare Program is... and how awesome it is to be a part of. I guess that tops the soreness. It was worth it.

Aussies In America

When I was 12 years old, we were lucky enough to have a foreign exchange student from Australia live with us for a few months. 13 years later, we still keep in touch. She has come out to visit a few times since 1996, and I had the chance to visit her five years ago.

I stayed with her family for a month and drew close to her parents as well. They had never been to America... until this weekend.  They took a two week vacation to the states, and we were fortunate enough to be one of their stops!

This is Ernst and Gisela Krajewski. They are actually Germans who moved to Australia years ago. It's quite fun to hear the German/Australian accent mix!

While I was in Australia, they introduced me to many authentic "aussie" classics, including several foods that I still crave to this day. So, naturally, we did the same. We took them to Park City and they got some Levi jeans at the outlets. We stopped in at the Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory where they enjoyed, for the first time, a caramel apple and a caramel-covered chocolate-dipped pretzel. They loved them both, using the term "beautiful" to describe everything they ate.

We also stopped by Hot Dog On A Stick for another American classic where they enjoyed a corn dog for the first time. They loved it - especially the cheese dog. Ernst was so excited, he sat and watched how they made them.

Heather gave them some pillows, and they brought some gifts for everyone...

Authentic Australian Uggs. Talk about a good gift!

They are so comfy and so cute.

We love Ernst and Gisela. 

A weekend was not enough, and we hope to see them again soon!

Dear American Idol,

I am not sure what the hype about Adam Lambert is for, but please don't let him win. Though I will admit that his performance this week was acceptable - his hair was out of his face, he stood still, and he didn't screech - which seems to be his signature move that is claimed by many to be his "rocker" style. Whatever you choose to call it, "good" is not in my vocabulary for this particular contestant.

Some think that he looks like Elvis. I will not dispute that. However, how he chooses to look most of the time (see below) is... far from the clean cut Elvis look. Um... Miss Taylor? Are you in there?

He seems to be what the judges are looking for, and it seems that most of America has been looking for him too. But could you be so kind to explain how a high-pitched (teetering on screaming) voice, eyeliner and hips that move unnaturally is a good combination? Not to mention his clothes. Oh, the tight white pants. Perhaps Miss Taylor really is in there.

My choice, if you please, is Kris Allen. The combination of instruments he uses to complete his smooth voice has made him better and better as the weeks have come and gone. He's clean, he's humble yet confident, and he brings some wholesome goodness to the show.

America needs an idol like him.

Number 15

I think I mentioned that my dad runs marathons... without training. When stating the reason behind such actions, he explains, "I'd rather be sore for 4 days than sore for 12 weeks." Either way you look at it... seriously crazy. He doesn't even have the body type of a runner... but what he does have is enough stamina equal to a bus load of people... or more. Enduring 26.2 miles without preparing for such an event is quite the feat.

I had never been there when he crossed the finish line before this year's Salt Lake Marathon. He had said his best time was 5 hours and 11 minutes (remember - he doesn't train), and we arrived just around 4 hours and 45 minutes. We waited... and waited... and it actually didn't seem like over an hour had gone by when he came running in at 5 hours and 52 minutes.

 

We had been cheering everyone else on... and quite enjoying ourselves. Those that have seen someone finish a marathon know what it's like to see the determination on the faces of those running. The tears in their eyes, the exhaustion that seems to scream from their every movement - it's amazing. It's fun to cheer them on, to commend them in their determination to finish something so incredible as a marathon.

We knew the cut-off time was 6 hours. When 5:45 rolled around, we were getting a bit worried... turned out that it was only the blisters forming on the bottom of his feet around mile 18 that were giving him grief (no biggie, right?). I guess that's what will happen if you run 12 consecutive marathons in the same pair of shoes...

Despite the blisters, he was in good spirits - and looked better than most when coming to the finish line.

Coming in at 5:52

Here he is, still on his feet and happy. I can't say I would be the same if I had just run 26 miles; 8 of those with blisters padding the soles of my shoes.

You rock, dad. I'm proud to call you mine.

Charly

Apparently, my current job position opens up more opportunities to meet famous people than I would have thought... and while this person is famous to me, and probably to quite a few in the "Mormon" world, others may not be as familiar with her as with Pierce Brosnan, who was my last celebrity encounter. But I loved her in "Charly," and I think she's beautiful.

She (Heather Beers) walked into the studio as I was slumped lazily in my chair, watching a video on YouTube or doing something meaningless on the computer, no doubt. 

When I looked up and said hello, she  asked, "Is this the audition?" 

After telling her that it wasn't and confirming the address she was looking for, she thanked me and started to walk back outside. When it registered to me who she was (or looked very much like), she was on her way out the door. I think I may have looked a little dumb stuck for a moment when I asked her, "Are you Charly?" She chuckled a little and took a step back toward me, extending her hand. "Yeah. I'm Heather," she said with a smile.

I wish I would have said something more after I introduced myself. She won't remember my name, but she might have remembered me telling her she's beautiful. Or that she played an excellent Charly. Or that I honestly have been thinking about a scene in that movie for the past few days for some odd reason....

I guess I should just be happy that my incredibly boring day was interrupted for a small moment to bring me something interesting. Heaven knows that's what I needed.

My Hero

I am told the love for your parents grows when you become one yourself. If this is the case, it will be interesting to see what my relationship with my father will be like when that time comes. He already is one of my closest friends; the one person that I turn to when I just need a hug.

I look up to him for a million+ reasons, including the fact that he's run 14 marathons without training. He loves all kinds of music, and his family is his whole world.

I think the number one reason I look up to him is because he loves to give. And give. And even when he has nothing, give more. I'm not sure that there's been a time in the last ten years when someone outside of our immediate family has lived in his home. I am positive that he has been an answer to prayer in the lives of several people, including my own.

He happened to be in the kitchen the other day when I was talking to Chris about getting new tennis shoes. Mine were shot and it hurt each time I put my feet in them. I knew we wouldn't be able to until another paycheck came along, but we were talking about where I should go. My dad, hearing everything, told me to go to the Nike Outlet. I told him that was a good idea and that I'd have to go next week sometime.

He looked at my feet, and asked me what size I wore. Knowing what he was thinking, I didn't tell him. He was not going to buy me new shoes, and I made that clear. I knew that he shouldn't. He knew that he shouldn't. Nevertheless, when I came back to my desk on Friday morning from working in the back of the studio, there was a Nike shoe box sitting there.

He didn't.

There was no note attached, and no one had told them they were for me, so I opened it up, hoping to find who they belonged to. Nothing. I checked the size - mine. What a punk. Somehow he managed to find my shoe size and travel to Park City and back by 11am.

It's things like this who make him who he is. It brings joy to him to make others happy... yet another reason why I love him. Thanks for being my hero, dad. And by the way... love the shoes. They are perfect.

How Did I Let This Happen?

Whenever we are at the mall together, my mom offers to get me something to eat.  Most of the time we don't have time to eat, so the below mentioned experience hadn't come up until a couple of days back.

 It was about a week ago when I had some things to get and asked her if she wanted to come along.  She of course offered to get me some food, this time being a Hot Dog on a Stick.  I knew this was one of her favorite places, so I was prepared to get a big reaction from her when I told her I had never had one.  I wasn't disappointed.  She didn't waste any time in telling me she was a "failure as a mother" as she always does (jokingly, of course... I think) when I haven't done something that comes second-nature to her.  Apparently, this was one of those things.

Despite the fact that I've tried to get one whenever I am at a food court (which is not very often), there is always something wrong - they take only cash when I have none, their machines are out of order, or I don't have time to wait for food.  In this case, it was the latter situation. Because we ran out of time, my mom's heart was broken (seriously. This woman loves this place.) when she wasn't able to share her joy with me.  

It was Wednesday when I had to take something back to the mall.  She had some things to do, but when I said we could go to her favorite place at the mall (the above mentioned restaurant), she quickly obliged.

Truth be told, all of the good things I've heard about this place are true.  Words cannot describe what I tasted as I took that first bite.  I don't have corn dogs very often, because 1. I didn't know there were places who made them fresh (I really didn't think this place did), and  2. For obvious health reasons.  In the words of Richard, "I could actually hear [myself] getting fatter." Worth it?  Definitely.  She also forced me into getting the lemonade.  Also worth it.

Upon seeing a black-and-white photo booth against the wall near where we sat, she said she wanted to document my first time at Hot Dog on a Stick.  We quickly found out that the machine wasn't running, and after searching for an "on/off" switch, I told her if she really wanted some, I had my camera.

So there we were, using the timer to take pictures of ourselves in front of the sign... I am quite positive that on-lookers might have thought we were a bit odd.  It didn't matter.

We may be enjoying this a bit too much...

How I ever let myself live without Hot Dog On a Stick is a mystery... but I know that it won't be long before I go again.

Miscellaneous Good Times

I spent Saturday sewing with Jacci and Tara, and didn't even get close to being done with my skirt.  More to come on that later... that is, if I have the patience to finish the project.  Seriously not fun... if that darn pattern weren't so complicated!  Anyway...

Chris came over later and somehow, he and Corey forced Jacci and I to learn how to play poker... a kind of weird version of it.  Don't tell Chris, but I thought it was actually fun.  And not that it's a big accomplishment... after all, it is poker.  Which I'm not really interested in.  But I won.  Yep, Yours truly.

My favorite was the tape on the foreheads... it added a nice touch.

Of course, the cards wouldn't stay up otherwise...  

And who wouldn't want to look this awesome?

This is their little girl Sophie.  Love her.

On Sunday night, there was a surprise at our door.

Through ages 12 through 18-ish, give or take a few months here and there, we had the missionaries over constantly.  So many memories come to mind with them over at our house while growing up that it's hard to remember a time in my youth without them around. 

During the summers, I don't think a week went by without having them over for a BBQ - and of course - a water fight, which my mom was - and still is - famous for.

This particular missionary served in our area for seven months.  We were close with him and each of his companions that he would introduce to us while here.  Years later, when I served my mission, I noticed a badge with the same last name.  Yep, it was his brother.  We hadn't heard from him in years, and I was happy to make the connection.

About a week ago, he found me on Facebook.  He was coming to town on business and wanted to surprise my mom.  He showed up the night before we planned, and it ended up a surprise for us both!

My mom, Fletcher Brinkerhoff and me.

When The Weather Was Nice...

How is it that you can feel so refreshed and happy one day and the next you are down - just because the sky is a different color?  You got me.  But I have been loving the good days we've had this year.  Sunday was one of them.

As we do every conference, my family got together afterwards.  We played outside because it was so beautiful.

Dodgeball...

Turns out my cousin Maddie has quite the arm.  And the aim.

British Bulldog...

Lining up, ready to run

Red Light/Green Light.  Love this game.

Chris, telling whoever moved to go back

And hide and seek base tag.

I can only hope for better weather so we can play outside more often!

Stop This Train

I feel like this week has been running past me... as well as this month, this year, the past 10, 15, 20 years... Is it just me, or does it seem that time keeps slipping away, with no way to stop it?  There are times that I feel like just screaming: "Stop!  Let me enjoy the moment!"  There is a song cleverly written that describes my feelings precisely.

Stop this train

I wanna get off

And go home again

I can't take the speed it's moving in

I know I can't

But honestly, won't someone stop this train?

In this song, he doesn't seem to grasp why his life is going so fast.  

For understanding, he turns to his father.  The advice he received was this:

 
"Don't stop this train
Don't for a minute change the place you're in
And don't think I couldn't ever understand
I tried my hand
John, honestly we'll never stop this train"

Ten Years ago, if asked what I'd be doing with my life or where I'd be when 25 rolled around, a pretty picture of myself, a husband and at least two little ones would have come to mind.  I guess I have half of it down... but where are those darling children of mine?  It's interesting to me how different our lives turn out to be from the way we planned them.  Another image comes to mind:  in this one, I am a puppet.  I am not guiding my own course - rather, letting the puppeteer decide where I am to go next.  When I trust him, and know that he knows what's best for me, I will be safe.

Experience has shown me that things don't always go as planned.  For me, hardly ever.  While it's important to have a plan, it is equally important to let those plans change when they need to.  We need to be willing to play along when the puppeteer decides to turn us another way.  

"It is sometimes in the winds of change that we find our true direction."  While along that pathway of change, we ourselves change.  We grow and learn who we truly are.  It's in these moments, when things don't go as planned, that we learn our true character.  Learning to enjoy the moment is something I am continuously working on.  However, I know one thing for certain - that I wouldn't for a minute change the place I'm in.  Even if it takes a bit of sacrifice.

Read For April

We met at Cold Stone last night to discuss Flowers for Algernon.  As always, anyone is welcome to join.

Here's the book we're reading for April.

Mmmmm...

Pure magic? I have to say yes... you'll be amazed at how much better your food tastes with this stuff. Excellent replacement for salt... or for anything. Buy it. Try it. It'll change your life.