About Me
I’ve always loved telling stories. My favorite is the one where I sent the wrong letter to the right missionary. We were married the next summer. I attended LDS Business College where I earned an Associate’s in Computer Technology and Brigham Young University where I should have majored in English. I live in a small town nestled in the heart of the Appalachians. When I’m not busy writing, I can be found baking cookies, going to the movies, helping with the homework or catching fireflies with my handsome husband and four adorable children.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Siblings
We left our oldest son at my parent's after the disastrous train ride last weekend. He's trying to earn money for a dirt bike, and there's no better place to earn money than on Grandpa's farm. So the phone rang a few minutes ago. Let me tell you something about this child. He hates talking on the phone. Like really hates it. But when I answer, it is he.
"I just earned fifty dollars, Mom," is the first thing he tells me. And I can hear the joy in his voice.
"Good job," I tell him.
Then he says, "Can I talk to my brother?" So I put little brother on. They're trying to buy this dirt bike together.
"That's awesome," our six year old son says.
"No, I haven't earned any. But I'll try to," is the next thing he says.
The last thing he says makes me sigh. "I love you, too."
Brother at grandpa's farm asks to speak to older sister next.
It's quick, but she too ends with, "I love you."
Then he asks to speak to our toddler girl. She's the apple of his eye. "Hi," she squeaks out, and smiles when she realizes who is on the phone. She's babbling to him but who knows what she's saying? Not me.
He gets back on the phone and tells me he loves me and that he's not homesick and he'll talk to me later. We hang up.
It's moments like these that I'm so proud of my kids, and so thankful for each one of them. And so grateful to Heavenly Father for trusting me to raise them so they can return home to live with Him someday.
I'm the luckiest mom on earth. I hope you feel that way too.
Monday, July 26, 2010
My Twelfth Anniversary--The Day from H-E-double hockey sticks.
This is one of my rambling rants. I just needed to vent, and laugh, and get a little teary eyed at the same time. Enjoy.
First, let me address my blog. My background disappeared and I'm trying to get it going again, but for now, It's all jacked up.
On to the anniversary. Yes, I was married to my cute, curly haired husband twelve years ago, on Pioneer Day. And yes, every year our anniversary gets superseded by the pioneers. But since the pioneers are near and dear to my heart, I'm okay with sharing.
This year for our anniversary, we were at the farm. We did this on purpose because grandparent's are built-in babysitters, and Bryan and I planned on taking full advantage. My parents live in the heart of Virginia, in a county called Buckingham. Maybe it was named after the Buckingham palace. I don't know. But trust me, it's nothing like England. It's a lot like humid. And very forest-y. And full of old men, with big beer bellies, spitting their chew in a mountain dew bottle they found out in the woods the last time they went deer hunting. It's lots of fun. Beyond the twenty fourth being a Mormon holiday, this year it was the second annual Cowboy day down there in 'the Ham.'
So someone got a brilliant idea that we should all--my family, and my older brother's family--go on a train ride. Supposedly (that will be important in a second) the cars that were not open-air, were air conditioned, so we all agreed that this would be lots of fun for the kids, and a good way to spend the one hundred plus degree day.
And then we showed up. The train was *supposed* to leave at nine a.m. so that everyone could *supposedly* get back by noon and head over to the actual Cowboy day festival. We got out of the car to feel the nasty humidity smack us in the face. No biggie. We were either going to be in an air-conditioned car or out where the breeze could blow through our hair.
Shuh. (That's me scoffing). The train didn't even show up to board until ten. We were already sweating. We boarded and took off around 10:15. My brother and his little family wanted to sit outside so we left them at the open air car, and headed for the air conditioning only to find out that their version of 'air conditioning' is a couple of sad little fans at one end of the car and a bunch of open windows.
First, let me address my blog. My background disappeared and I'm trying to get it going again, but for now, It's all jacked up.
On to the anniversary. Yes, I was married to my cute, curly haired husband twelve years ago, on Pioneer Day. And yes, every year our anniversary gets superseded by the pioneers. But since the pioneers are near and dear to my heart, I'm okay with sharing.
This year for our anniversary, we were at the farm. We did this on purpose because grandparent's are built-in babysitters, and Bryan and I planned on taking full advantage. My parents live in the heart of Virginia, in a county called Buckingham. Maybe it was named after the Buckingham palace. I don't know. But trust me, it's nothing like England. It's a lot like humid. And very forest-y. And full of old men, with big beer bellies, spitting their chew in a mountain dew bottle they found out in the woods the last time they went deer hunting. It's lots of fun. Beyond the twenty fourth being a Mormon holiday, this year it was the second annual Cowboy day down there in 'the Ham.'
So someone got a brilliant idea that we should all--my family, and my older brother's family--go on a train ride. Supposedly (that will be important in a second) the cars that were not open-air, were air conditioned, so we all agreed that this would be lots of fun for the kids, and a good way to spend the one hundred plus degree day.
And then we showed up. The train was *supposed* to leave at nine a.m. so that everyone could *supposedly* get back by noon and head over to the actual Cowboy day festival. We got out of the car to feel the nasty humidity smack us in the face. No biggie. We were either going to be in an air-conditioned car or out where the breeze could blow through our hair.
Shuh. (That's me scoffing). The train didn't even show up to board until ten. We were already sweating. We boarded and took off around 10:15. My brother and his little family wanted to sit outside so we left them at the open air car, and headed for the air conditioning only to find out that their version of 'air conditioning' is a couple of sad little fans at one end of the car and a bunch of open windows.
I also noticed there was a no smoking sign on wall. Thank goodness for that.
The train starts moving, and it's all good. Except it isn't. The train rolled along the track at about eight miles an hour (yes, we did the math). Let me tell you something. Eight miles an hour on an un-air conditioned train when it's one hundred degrees and one hundred percent humidity is like riding the back of a turtle. One word. AGONY.
A train ride that was supposed to take three hours took four and a half. There was nothing to see but trees smashed right up in your face and that no smoking sign must not have applied to the workers because one man stood there smoking cigarette, after cigarette. Maybe that whippy wind blew the stench away for everyone else, but for me, it was all up in my nostrils, and on my skin, tangling up with my dripping sweat.
And then there's the matter of a cute little toddler who refused to fall asleep at any point on the train ride. But we won't mention her name because her sweet little giggle and funny expressions woo-ed everyone on the train. Especially the man sitting next to her.
You know what happens to people when you take them on a really hot, slow moving train that leaves an hour late, causes them to miss their lunch, and gets back an hour and a half after it says it will? They get cranky. And funny.
One man said to me, "You know what the dumb thing is? This is the second time they've suckered me into this. Do you think there will be a third?"
Another lady said in a really sarcastic voice, "Oh, I know. They're going to take us all to lunch when we get back." Um, no.
And we paid for that torture. We paid a lot for that torture. Okay, my mom paid for us to enjoy that torture. Like twenty dollars a ticket.
Good things that happened. I got to chat it up with my brother who is also an aspiring writer. So talented. He's already sold the rights to unpublished book to be made into a movie, and lots of agents have a pilot script of a CIA show that he wrote. I can't wait to watch his career explode. He's going to write a letter to the editor of the local paper and hash that train company. How can I explain his writing? His words are a force to be reckoned with. He lives in Northern Virginia and works for a government agency. (I can't tell you which one or he'll have to kill me). He has briefed the Vice president. Yeah. Of the United States of America. And a bunch of other guys too. He's done a lot of other stuff, but you know, it's that secrecy thing, so I can't say what he's done on my blog. I'm not bragging or anything. Okay. I totally am. Anyway, I can't wait to read that letter.
Oh, and I got to read some funny t-shirts. One guy's shirt was an advertisement for Buzz Daley beer. Here's the logo. Drink Triple. See Double. Act Single. Pretty funny, but if I was wife I'd burn it when he wasn't looking.
Another shirt, and I don't want to offend any of my friends who are, ahem, liberal, I just really liked this shirt. There's a picture of George Bush with a toothy grin waving at you. He says, "Miss me yet?" And then under the picture it says: How's that hopey changey thing workin' out for ya?
Love it.
Anyway, the ride was so bad, the ambulance met us half way back to the station, so we had to stop again. The conductor announces that two people in the actual air conditioned car (yes, one of the cars really did have real air conditioning) were people hauled off. All of us toughies out in the hot sun started laughing and wiping at our drenched foreheads.
Finally, we got back at 2:22. Yes, the time is seared in my mind. Hugged my brother and his family good bye and headed to cowboy day. Things were much better after this. Want to know why? Because of my mom. She takes care of people. She gave every person who rode that train a free hot dog, or beef brisket sandwich and a drink. That woman knows hospitality.
Bry, the kids, and I went home and jumped in the pool. Then grandma took over. So the day got better. We had our anniversary dinner at The Melting Pot--A fondue restaurant. It was so fun, and so delicious, and so expensive. But we won't talk about that. And then we went to see the new Angelina Jolie movie, "Salt."
On a more serious note. So, it's all fine. I didn't actually burn up. I just felt like I was going to. I got a little taste of what it felt like to be a pioneer. Miserable, stuck in a place you didn't want to be but you had to be there to get to your final destination. Hat's off to those people who suffered like that day after day so I could have the gospel. Hat's off to Cristina McNeil, my great, great, great, great (you get the idea)grandmother who chose the gospel over her family and pushed a handcart with the Willie company. Who almost froze to death. Who became a second wife to one of the men in the rescue party. Who suffered so much so I could go to an air conditioned church building every Sunday and sing along with my fellow Saints. Thank you. I have no idea how you did it.
I could write more, but I think I'll find my guest blogger and let her add her thoughts.
_____
It's me...the guest blogger. I'm Susan's sister-in-law, and my thoughts aren't many. Most of them were fried in the heat. Mainly, I think I was just itching to get off that roaster oven. I feel bad for the people who were running the thing. I am sure their intentions were nothing but good. All they wanted to do was help people have some fun. I suppose we live and learn. I wish there was some life altering lesson I could share with you, but–there isn't. The only thing I came away with is *never* attempt anything in 100+ degree weather that doesn't involve a big, cold, blue body of water! And to think, my husband made fun of me for hauling a bag of 18 bottles of water on that trip. He's not laughing now!
It was funny. After we got in our car and cranked up the AC, my three-year-old softly said from the back seat, "Thanks, Mom, for taking us on a train ride!" My eyes rolled and with astonishment, I said, "You're welcome, babe!" But what I really meant was, "You're thanking me for THAT?!"
I am pleased to hear the day ended on a good note for you, Susan. Happy Anniversary!! Twelve years is nothin' to sneeze at and you and Bryan deserve to have a little fun! I'm just sorry the anniversary celebrations had to follow such an "NEVER-to-be-repeated-again" experience.
The train starts moving, and it's all good. Except it isn't. The train rolled along the track at about eight miles an hour (yes, we did the math). Let me tell you something. Eight miles an hour on an un-air conditioned train when it's one hundred degrees and one hundred percent humidity is like riding the back of a turtle. One word. AGONY.
A train ride that was supposed to take three hours took four and a half. There was nothing to see but trees smashed right up in your face and that no smoking sign must not have applied to the workers because one man stood there smoking cigarette, after cigarette. Maybe that whippy wind blew the stench away for everyone else, but for me, it was all up in my nostrils, and on my skin, tangling up with my dripping sweat.
And then there's the matter of a cute little toddler who refused to fall asleep at any point on the train ride. But we won't mention her name because her sweet little giggle and funny expressions woo-ed everyone on the train. Especially the man sitting next to her.
You know what happens to people when you take them on a really hot, slow moving train that leaves an hour late, causes them to miss their lunch, and gets back an hour and a half after it says it will? They get cranky. And funny.
One man said to me, "You know what the dumb thing is? This is the second time they've suckered me into this. Do you think there will be a third?"
Another lady said in a really sarcastic voice, "Oh, I know. They're going to take us all to lunch when we get back." Um, no.
And we paid for that torture. We paid a lot for that torture. Okay, my mom paid for us to enjoy that torture. Like twenty dollars a ticket.
Good things that happened. I got to chat it up with my brother who is also an aspiring writer. So talented. He's already sold the rights to unpublished book to be made into a movie, and lots of agents have a pilot script of a CIA show that he wrote. I can't wait to watch his career explode. He's going to write a letter to the editor of the local paper and hash that train company. How can I explain his writing? His words are a force to be reckoned with. He lives in Northern Virginia and works for a government agency. (I can't tell you which one or he'll have to kill me). He has briefed the Vice president. Yeah. Of the United States of America. And a bunch of other guys too. He's done a lot of other stuff, but you know, it's that secrecy thing, so I can't say what he's done on my blog. I'm not bragging or anything. Okay. I totally am. Anyway, I can't wait to read that letter.
Oh, and I got to read some funny t-shirts. One guy's shirt was an advertisement for Buzz Daley beer. Here's the logo. Drink Triple. See Double. Act Single. Pretty funny, but if I was wife I'd burn it when he wasn't looking.
Another shirt, and I don't want to offend any of my friends who are, ahem, liberal, I just really liked this shirt. There's a picture of George Bush with a toothy grin waving at you. He says, "Miss me yet?" And then under the picture it says: How's that hopey changey thing workin' out for ya?
Love it.
Anyway, the ride was so bad, the ambulance met us half way back to the station, so we had to stop again. The conductor announces that two people in the actual air conditioned car (yes, one of the cars really did have real air conditioning) were people hauled off. All of us toughies out in the hot sun started laughing and wiping at our drenched foreheads.
Finally, we got back at 2:22. Yes, the time is seared in my mind. Hugged my brother and his family good bye and headed to cowboy day. Things were much better after this. Want to know why? Because of my mom. She takes care of people. She gave every person who rode that train a free hot dog, or beef brisket sandwich and a drink. That woman knows hospitality.
Bry, the kids, and I went home and jumped in the pool. Then grandma took over. So the day got better. We had our anniversary dinner at The Melting Pot--A fondue restaurant. It was so fun, and so delicious, and so expensive. But we won't talk about that. And then we went to see the new Angelina Jolie movie, "Salt."
On a more serious note. So, it's all fine. I didn't actually burn up. I just felt like I was going to. I got a little taste of what it felt like to be a pioneer. Miserable, stuck in a place you didn't want to be but you had to be there to get to your final destination. Hat's off to those people who suffered like that day after day so I could have the gospel. Hat's off to Cristina McNeil, my great, great, great, great (you get the idea)grandmother who chose the gospel over her family and pushed a handcart with the Willie company. Who almost froze to death. Who became a second wife to one of the men in the rescue party. Who suffered so much so I could go to an air conditioned church building every Sunday and sing along with my fellow Saints. Thank you. I have no idea how you did it.
I could write more, but I think I'll find my guest blogger and let her add her thoughts.
_____
It's me...the guest blogger. I'm Susan's sister-in-law, and my thoughts aren't many. Most of them were fried in the heat. Mainly, I think I was just itching to get off that roaster oven. I feel bad for the people who were running the thing. I am sure their intentions were nothing but good. All they wanted to do was help people have some fun. I suppose we live and learn. I wish there was some life altering lesson I could share with you, but–there isn't. The only thing I came away with is *never* attempt anything in 100+ degree weather that doesn't involve a big, cold, blue body of water! And to think, my husband made fun of me for hauling a bag of 18 bottles of water on that trip. He's not laughing now!
It was funny. After we got in our car and cranked up the AC, my three-year-old softly said from the back seat, "Thanks, Mom, for taking us on a train ride!" My eyes rolled and with astonishment, I said, "You're welcome, babe!" But what I really meant was, "You're thanking me for THAT?!"
I am pleased to hear the day ended on a good note for you, Susan. Happy Anniversary!! Twelve years is nothin' to sneeze at and you and Bryan deserve to have a little fun! I'm just sorry the anniversary celebrations had to follow such an "NEVER-to-be-repeated-again" experience.
_____________________________
And there you have it. The same experience from a much more Christlike person than me. Thanks for the photos Janna, and for sitting in the heat with us.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Gone
I'm going to be out of commission for a while because Deseret Book asked for revisions. For those inquiring minds who really want to know, this is a very, very good sign. And Melanie J. is reading my mss (that's writer speak for manuscript), and I have no doubt she'll straighten me out.
See y'all later! (I can get away with a farewell like that 'cause I'm from Virginia. Aren't you jealous?)
See y'all later! (I can get away with a farewell like that 'cause I'm from Virginia. Aren't you jealous?)
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Mayberry
Remember when life was simpler? I know, I sound old, but just roll with me. I don't know how the rest of you grew up, but when I was a kid (hey, I sound like my dad!) I ran around outside everyday until my feet were black and the sun was going down, or until my mom called me in for supper. I did not sit in front of the t.v. or play video games or whine because I was SO BORED. And my brothers were some of my best friends. Okay, maybe not best but that's because I'm an only girl and the youngest. But when they wouldn't play with me, I ran up the driveway and found a neighbor kid to play with. I didn't even know what a play date was. We didn't need an 'appointment' to play. We just played.
Remember my last post? About the roaring dragon? I have been frazzled by my kids this summer, but yesterday I had an epiphany. Or I should say, an epiphany landed in my lap.
We live in a subdivision. This is a new thing for me. I grew up on a farm. So I've never been sure what to do with my kids here. We go to the pool. We go to the free movie. We go on summer field trips, but they are still always complaining about how bored they are. Yesterday, a kid we know from church came over. He and my two boys were riding bikes having a dandy time. After a while they wanted to know if they could go to the friend's house to play. Get out of my hair and into someone else's? "Sounds great!" I told them. I reminded my oldest that he was responsible for his little brother and to be kind to him. Off they went.
They came back SEVEN hours later. Yes, SEVEN. (I keep capitalizing because I'm still blown away). They didn't completely disappear. That's not what I'm saying. I'm just saying, they played in the dirt, took off in the woods behind the subdivision and went on a little hike, found decaying bones of some animal (and brought them back for my husband's opinion on what kind of animal it was.) They rode bikes and ate food and explored the trail that borders our subdivision. And they weren't in the other mom's hair either. They were outside the majority of the time. It was 94 degress but they didn't even notice.
And when they came back, they even had the friends older brother with them. He's twelve. A twelve year old playing with two ten year olds and a six year old. And guess what? No one fought. No one cried. Everyone had a fabulous time. There were smiles, and goodbyes when it was time to go, and everybody looked like they'd just found out they'd won an all-expenses paid trip to Hawaii. Because that's what 'playing' is supposed to be. None of this video-game,-movie-watching,-and-let's-lay-around-and-be-lazy-and-call-it-playing garbage.
I told my oldest son, "That's how you play in the summer time. And you can do it everyday if you want."
And I got SEVEN hours of peace and quiet. I could get used to this.
Bring on the Andy Griffith theme song. I'm all about simple.
Remember my last post? About the roaring dragon? I have been frazzled by my kids this summer, but yesterday I had an epiphany. Or I should say, an epiphany landed in my lap.
We live in a subdivision. This is a new thing for me. I grew up on a farm. So I've never been sure what to do with my kids here. We go to the pool. We go to the free movie. We go on summer field trips, but they are still always complaining about how bored they are. Yesterday, a kid we know from church came over. He and my two boys were riding bikes having a dandy time. After a while they wanted to know if they could go to the friend's house to play. Get out of my hair and into someone else's? "Sounds great!" I told them. I reminded my oldest that he was responsible for his little brother and to be kind to him. Off they went.
They came back SEVEN hours later. Yes, SEVEN. (I keep capitalizing because I'm still blown away). They didn't completely disappear. That's not what I'm saying. I'm just saying, they played in the dirt, took off in the woods behind the subdivision and went on a little hike, found decaying bones of some animal (and brought them back for my husband's opinion on what kind of animal it was.) They rode bikes and ate food and explored the trail that borders our subdivision. And they weren't in the other mom's hair either. They were outside the majority of the time. It was 94 degress but they didn't even notice.
And when they came back, they even had the friends older brother with them. He's twelve. A twelve year old playing with two ten year olds and a six year old. And guess what? No one fought. No one cried. Everyone had a fabulous time. There were smiles, and goodbyes when it was time to go, and everybody looked like they'd just found out they'd won an all-expenses paid trip to Hawaii. Because that's what 'playing' is supposed to be. None of this video-game,-movie-watching,-and-let's-lay-around-and-be-lazy-and-call-it-playing garbage.
I told my oldest son, "That's how you play in the summer time. And you can do it everyday if you want."
And I got SEVEN hours of peace and quiet. I could get used to this.
Bring on the Andy Griffith theme song. I'm all about simple.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
School's out, scream and shout!
And not the good kind of shouting. My son just let one loose that sounded like a dragon roaring at its very angriest.
This is the same son who took one hour (you read that right), I repeat, one hour, to read a tiny little paragraph, crying and banging his head against the wall the entire time. Yes, I am more stubborn, and I proved it today. I am proud of myself (yes, I'm a mormon and I just used the word proud. I know, I'm going to burn) for sticking to my guns. He's fully capable of reading that paragraph in two minutes flat.
I'm the kind of mom who expects her kids to make their bed every day. I'm so evil. This same child took another forty five minutes to make his bed. I dug in my heels on that one too. He asked me to help him, and I said no. You probably think I'm the witchiest mom ever, but I promise I'm not. I told him that I knew he could make that bed. I'd seen him do a hundred times before. He threw his head back against the ground, let out a wail and cried, "That never happened! It was all a bad dream!"
I'm not kidding. He's six. Where does he come up with this stuff? If I wasn't so irritated I'd probably be laughing.
Oh, wait. I have to go. The dragon's roaring again.
How's your summer going?
This is the same son who took one hour (you read that right), I repeat, one hour, to read a tiny little paragraph, crying and banging his head against the wall the entire time. Yes, I am more stubborn, and I proved it today. I am proud of myself (yes, I'm a mormon and I just used the word proud. I know, I'm going to burn) for sticking to my guns. He's fully capable of reading that paragraph in two minutes flat.
I'm the kind of mom who expects her kids to make their bed every day. I'm so evil. This same child took another forty five minutes to make his bed. I dug in my heels on that one too. He asked me to help him, and I said no. You probably think I'm the witchiest mom ever, but I promise I'm not. I told him that I knew he could make that bed. I'd seen him do a hundred times before. He threw his head back against the ground, let out a wail and cried, "That never happened! It was all a bad dream!"
I'm not kidding. He's six. Where does he come up with this stuff? If I wasn't so irritated I'd probably be laughing.
Oh, wait. I have to go. The dragon's roaring again.
How's your summer going?
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
I can't even think of a decent title for my post.
My wonderful, and overly ambitious mom decided to keep my kids this week. And my brother's kids. That's six kids (I kept my toddler, for obvious safety reasons) under one roof for a whole week.
So guess what's happened to me? My house is clean. It's quiet. I went on an hour long walk with my husband and little one last night.
I had high hopes of writing like crazy, trying to get a new WIP started. But I've gone brain dead. I stare at the computer for a couple of hours and when I'm done, it's worthless garbage.
Why? Anyone that can really tell me how to pull myself out of this funk my brain has fallen into, will be my new best friend. I can't think of anything more clever I could give you, because seriously, my brain is not functioning.
The sad thing--I don't even know what to do with all of this free time. My house is still half packed from a few months ago (and I'm loving it) so it's very easy to pick up. My yard looks great besides the fact that the grass is crunchy, dusty and brown, but I can't do anything about the almost 100 degree weather we are having. Ahhh! I don't like having nothing to do.
The End.
So guess what's happened to me? My house is clean. It's quiet. I went on an hour long walk with my husband and little one last night.
I had high hopes of writing like crazy, trying to get a new WIP started. But I've gone brain dead. I stare at the computer for a couple of hours and when I'm done, it's worthless garbage.
Why? Anyone that can really tell me how to pull myself out of this funk my brain has fallen into, will be my new best friend. I can't think of anything more clever I could give you, because seriously, my brain is not functioning.
The sad thing--I don't even know what to do with all of this free time. My house is still half packed from a few months ago (and I'm loving it) so it's very easy to pick up. My yard looks great besides the fact that the grass is crunchy, dusty and brown, but I can't do anything about the almost 100 degree weather we are having. Ahhh! I don't like having nothing to do.
The End.
Friday, July 2, 2010
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