Refreshing Blizzard

Oh my.

Nothing posted on my little plum page in over a month.

My family journaling habit is falling to pieces.

Although, almost daily I have the "hey, I should write this down!" moment.  And then I don't.

Shame on me.

Tonight I had one of those moments. Actually, last weekend I had an even BIGGER one of those moments.

They will each be getting a turn.

Right now, moment #1.

It is storming outside. More than storming, but blizzarding. Badly. About an hour ago it didn't look too, too bad, so I ventured out in it.

Yes Mom, I ventured out.

As I backed out of our garage the wind grabbed my attention first. The high winds mixed with swirling snow was stunning. Like nothing I had ever seen. The roads were wet, but had no snow sticking to them.  Should be okay, right?

The drive through the steep gulley to the grocery store was a little bit shady as the blowing snow diminished my visibility by the second. Still, the roads were fine.  As I crested the gulley the ball game changed IN. AN. INSTANT.  All visibility disappeared.  The wet roads instantly turned into roads with 4-5 inches of slippery snow, and the wind hit like a battering ram.

A chill went through me. I gripped the steering wheel tighter.

The place I was in offered no turn around. My only option was to continue deeper into the center.

I was alone. All the electricity was out outside. No street lights, no home lights, and no grocery store lights to lead me. Panic set in. Snow blindness wrapped its arms around me.

Crawling along I missed the turn to the store. Missed it completely. Never even saw it. Before I knew it  I was at an intersection onto a main road. Even worse. There was no road, only a powerless stop light swinging in the wind that told me I was on the road.

I inched feet ahead at a time.  The road was gone.  Everything was gone.

Panic?

Shaky hands?

Shallow breathing?

Oh. Yeah.

Desperate options flew through my head. Should I call Dave? Call Papa (Dave's dad)? Both rescue options would be dead ends. I was in a place that was unreachable.

Before I knew it, my mind had settled on my only potential rescuer, and was pleading for help.

Prayer was to hold my hand and get me home.

My desperate pleas swirled as thick as the snow that encircled me.

I made it home on the shoulders of  prayer.

No harm had been done.

A testimony of prayer reminded, refreshed, and now, shared.

"There are thoughts which are prayers.  There are moments when, whatever the posture of the body, the soul is on its knees."  -Victor Hugo     

Happy Resolution!

Relief Society lesson #1 in 2011.

Happiness.

Was it a good lesson?  Definitely.

Was it a lesson I need to learn/use/ponder/incorporate/live?

Uh huh.  Yep.

The teacher is quite possibly the happiest person I have ever encountered. Last Fall I got to spend a weekend with this happy person.

A WHOLE WEEKEND!  I was spoiled in her happy happy's.

After our time together, I planned on truly emulating her happy's. It has not been as easy as I had hoped.  In fact, sometimes it is very, very, very hard.

New Years Resolution # 2:  Be happy.

Happiness is a form of courage.

-Holbrook Jackson

P.S.  isn't happy's an annoying word?  Happy Happy's!

P.P.S. Two "happy" posts in one month, perhaps i'm in a rut?

Mr. Eric

Three words: Anti Gravity Yoga

We did it.

As in, Dave, myself, and our friend Eric.

Eric is awesome.

We call him our Yoga Guru.

Dave met him in his pre-Liz time at UVSC. I entered the equation at a chance intro in a McDonalds parking lot in my dating-Dave time.

We like it random like that.

Eric has been with us since the start.

Did I mention that Eric is awesome?

He likes his BBQ's as big as we do. Steak with a side of steak and a steak on the side. And maybe a steak for dessert?

Again, awesome? I. Think. So.

He is a also a photography buff. He is known online in the photography hob-nobbing circles. Fancy, eh?

Awesome again? Uh huh.

He is also a sweet computer techie, or so I hear. My ears tend to freeze up when the techy smack talk comes out. Most of it flies over my head, so I know he must be a whiz.

Awesome? No, make that, techy-Awesome.

Thanks for the anti-gravity evening Eric, it, and YOU are awesome!

(Picture from www.styleme.net)

Daily Goods

A long time ago I went through a not-so-happy period.

It was not fun.

At. All.

Coming out of it I made a conscious effort to see the happy. Yes, see the happy.

Happiness journals were all the rage.  I did not make one, but I wish I had. It would have had stuff like, did not search out new life in Taiwan today.  Happy!

The last few weeks I have again focused myself on seeing the happy that is all around.

Again, the universe answered and the happy's have been showing up for work again.

This time, I have caught some of them with my camera.

Using one of Grandma June's mixing bowls.











Trent and his triple binky trick.  Talent runs in his blood.

Picking up kids from school.

Sammy's homework.
So worth the -2 points.











Elves in diapers.

Minstrels at my fingertips.

"Joy is what happens to us when we allow ourselves to recognize how good things really are." Marianne Williamson

Resolution #1

My mind is being bullied.

Thoughts of New Years Eve approaching have been tramping around.

Making, and keeping, my resolutions is important. Using the toaster more (2009). Check. Eating a cupcake every time one is offered (2010). Check.  Eat more ice-cream (2008). Check.

Fail safe resolutions are key.

Except, fail safe equals easy.

Too easy.

Several quotes by Marianne Williamson are working their way into my resolution planning for 2011. This one in particular keeps laying around the house and looking at me.

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."

Seriously, a deep thought resolution? Why couldn't I have been inspired to work more M & M's into my life in 2011?

Monday Nov. 15th-LONDON

This morning the alarm went off and I couldn't move.

Could. Not. Move.

The big fluffy bed I laid in was bought for Dave and me when we visited in April, sooooo, technically speaking, isn't it part mine (go with me here), and no part of me was ready to part with it.

With all the exertion I could muscle I pushed myself into moving.

By 7:45 Cecelia and I were out the door.  I begged her not to go with me to the airport, but rather to stay home and take care of Chris, it was his 50th birthday, and when you get to that age every minute counts, you know?  She wasn't having it.

So after a teary goodbye to Chris,  we ushered each other out the door.

We rode the tube with two of Cecelia's friends nearly all the way to Heathrow.  Once we arrived it was just us.  Oh my, the prolonged goodbye's hurt.

We made it to security and both our eyes were brimming.   I tried to suck-it-up, but it was useless.  It pushed me over the edge when going through the security line she yelled "love ya my littl' darling!"  Could she have been crueler!?  To say I had to breathe deep would be the least of it. My heart felt sick. When will I see her again?  Months?  Years?

That girl is a soul changer.  I have learned so, so much from her.

Once I had my tear fit I was on my way.

The plane boarded and I found my window seat.  Dave had gone through the seating and had moved me around so I could, hopefully, be in a row alone.

Bingo.  I had my own row.

Not to say I was tired or anything, but I woke up when my head whapped into the window, and we were still waiting to take off.

The views were amazing the entire ride. Well, what I saw in-between my 3 naps anyways.

Nine hours later we arrived in Atlanta, and, as much as I enjoyed my travels, GOD BLESS AMERICA!

On the Atlanta to SLC flight the plane was packed.  The gal that sat by me was a young blonde whom I had to do a double take of to make sure she was wearing pants.  They were that short.


I made all my assumptions of who she was as she talked on her cell phone (before take-off), played on it, listened to music, and glanced magazines.

I kept my nose in my book not giving her a second glance. Then, I thought about how Cecelia would act in my place.  She would have made a great friend by now while I was busy judging her.

So, I offered her the blanket that was stashed in the bottom of my bag.  Surely her super-tan legs were cold?  She did not take my blanket, but we did start talking.  She is actually a recent church convert that is attending  UVSC and has a BYU boyfriend.  She is working on her nursing degree and works at the hospital.

Quite a different person that I had assumed!

When we exited the plane  several people saw how short her shorts were and laughed.  She noticed.  I felt so bad that she just didn't know that people around here don't wear things like that (especially in November!) and that she had been judged just the way I had judged her.

It was now 9:15 Utah time, 3:15 A.M. London time.  My head was swimming.   All I had to do was get to Dave, and I would finally be able to rest.

When I finally reached him I gave him a Hollywood Mormon Hug Scene (risque, huh?) He tried to get out of my hug 3 times, but I wasn't having it.  I was sooo tired and had traveled around the world to see him, and dog-gone-it, I was going to get a long hug out of him!

On the drive home I was very, very thankful for him driving.  I could not see straight through the exhaustion to save my life.

Once home my mom-in-law was relieved of house sitting (thanks Marilyn!) I snuck into each of our kiddies room and kissed their sweet cheeks .


There is no place like home!

Sunday Nov. 14- LONDON

This was it.   My last day here (until?) for awhile anyways.

I had not gone to bed until 2 in the morning yesterday, so I was worried I would oversleep. Yes, 2 A.M. That is what happens when you are not here to put me to bed Dave!

Then, about 7:30 my body remembered that I do not know how to sleep in, so I was up.

By the time I was cleaned up, C & C were already awake and frying eggs. I joined them and we talked about the plan for the day. It was either the British Museum for the Rosetta Stone (which I have successfully missed on every trip), or  Highgate Cemetery.

Highgate Cemetery won. C &  C even choose to come with me! Highgate (West side) is known for it's overgrown creepiness, catacombs, family vaults, and amazing tributes. Google pics are pretty accurate of it. I learned a lot about the Victorian symbolism that is displayed, and, as an added bonus, I choose a plot to be buried in. Maybe for next year's b-day present?

We finished the tour and wandered to the East side. Chris left us, so it was just Cecelia and me. The most notable person buried here is Karl Marx. We located him quite easily by the crowd of North Koreans that were gathered around his shrine. We watched respectfully as they each ran up and took group pics, individual pics, partner pics, and more individual pics. Then they pulled out flower bouquets and went through the process again.

Ahh, confusion! I was under the assumption his theories/ideas were not well liked.

Next came the bowing routine to the shrine. At this point C was holding her chuckles in. A young German/British couple joined us and they too were holding their laughs.

Once finished Cecelia and I jumped at the chance to get our picture taken with the shrine before the Koreans returned! We finished and walked away 15 feet where I stopped her. We, or rather, I, had to go back and bow. Don't know why, I just did.  Cecelia was so embarrassed, but did it with me anyways. When in Rome, right?

We found a bakery for a treat and headed home. C & C cooked dinner while chatting with me and another lady on the street who was visiting (Barbara). Once Barbara had left we watched the BBC news and an interview with Susan Boyle. They were both crazy about her. Cecelia even cried. I am not sure what happened next, but I woke up with my mouth wide open.

Perhaps my 2 A.M. bedtime was catching up with me?

Dinner was dreamy. We ate pot roast, mashed potatoes, and a medley of veggies that I am unsure of. They have certainly spoiled me this past week, and I will miss them terribly tomorrow at this time.

Random side note that I just remembered: At dinner we talked about what talent we would share if we were on Britain's Got Talent tomorrow. Cecelia would be a comic, Chris a back-up dancer (yes, HE said that), and I said I play a wicked kazoo. Cecelia disagreed with me and said, "you will write a book." Cecelia does not know that I like to write. Or, that I have heard that before. Random, and, never say never?

Side note over.

After dinner we pushed Chris out of the kitchen and stuck candles into a cake we bought earlier. He seemed pleased as punch when we sang to him and quizzed him about his birthdays in the past.

It is now nearly 1:00 in the morning and I have to get up in 5 hours to make it to Heathrow on time.



I am missing this adventure already.

Saturday Nov. 13- LONDON

Words fail me for this day.

But I am afraid to sleep on my thoughts for fear I will forget them. So here goes.

Today I left the house at 9:30, just as Chris and Cecelia were waking up. I purposefully skipped breakfast so I could eat a scone in Melissa's honor in the St. Paul Crypt.

Unfortunately C and C remembered that it was the Lord Mayor Parade downtown around St. Paul's just after I had shut the door. So as I stood just out of their site at the bus stop, they stood in the doorway calling after me.  It was too late. I heard nothing in my "I'm trying to blend" state of mind.

Several Tube lines and heavy crowds later I arrived at my destination and was feeling like a pro. That feeling did not last long. Once outside of St. Paul's I knew something was up. Throngs of people lined the streets. I escaped the crowd into the crypt and had a scone with jam and clotted cream in honor of Melissa (and the clotted cream for you mom!).

I exited the crypt and reentered the crowds to get to the entrance. Only, it was all blocked off by military.

Insert a momentary sense of bother HERE.

Being a rude American, as we are so known for, I approached a police man and asked if the cathedral was open today. He assured me it was closed and would reopen tomorrow.

Interesting. Because I had three musts on my list for this trip, and one way or another, I WAS going in. My must list is not negotiable.

So I walked around the building through the throngs and saw there were no other entrances. So I returned to the crypt, hoping for a different answer.

From one gift shop worker I got an "I don't know." From another I got a "go ask that person, they will know." And from the last person, I got an, " oh yes, come right over here (to my small open door in the iron wall gate) and you can visit!" Did I mention the visit for "free" bit?

With the celebration outside and the maze to get through to find an entry, the cathedral was near empty of people. After doing the customary ooing and awing for a minute or two, I realized that I could have the best seat in the house for the parade if I hurried to the top of the dome. So I skipped and doubled up the steps until my heart was about to pop.

The parade seemed to be as much about making all the noise they could alongside the entertainers. I returned down to the whispering gallery and took a seat. Sitting on that bench officially marked the #3 goal off my list. Although, I did wish that I had someone to whisper to. (miss you Dave!)

Once on floor level again I made my way to the entry door and did what any normal tourist would do if given St. Paul's to themselves. I walked the path Diana took to the center to be married. With the crowds screaming outside and the bells ringing I imagined it was similar to that day. No one needs to know, but, I may or may not have carried an imaginary bouquet.

After St. Paul's I crossed the Millennium bridge to the Shakespeare's Globe Theatre. Mel, I know we did it before, but my memory needed a refresher course. What I learned: I need to read/watch more Shakespeare plays.

By the tour end I had 1 1/2 hour to get to Covent Garden to meet C & C. That meant I had time to get there, shop around, and be all ready for them.

This is where the story gets sketchy. I had to get on 3 different tube lines to get there. No problem. Until. In the middle of one the train stopped and were informed of a fire at another station, so we could go no further. Meaning, get off and walk!

So walk I did. For it took me an hour and a half to reach Covent Garden because I could not find another tube station for the life of me (even with directions from passerbyers!)

Side note. In my lost state I found the small Clink prison where lots of people were tortured and took a 10 minute walk through.  New item of torture to avoid, the Spanish Boot.

When I finally made it to Covent Garden, it was straight up 5:00 and my phone rang. It was C & C calling to tell me that due to the fire their line was shut down. The same line I needed to get home. To throw in some Brit talk, bloody, that's not good!

My option was to give it some time and hope the line reopened. It seemed that everyone was trapped downtown. To say the sidewalks were shoulder to shoulder with people would be an understatement. Also, for a new file of awkward to add to my collection, I did a full body bump with a lady in a burka.  Her eyes said enough.

I did a walk around the Covent Garden shops looking at a lot of stuff I don't need. But really, I was looking for dinner. My tummy chatted with me about not eating ANYTHING but a scone all day, and it was not happy.

So I walked around looking for a place that was not crowded. Soon I found a perfect uncrowded little shop with pre-packaged Turkish food. I found some . . . thing. It did not look spicy, so I was happy. I ordered from a nice man who asked if I was on holiday. From there we had friendly conversation as he said he was waiting for the owner to come. It was his last day, yadda yadda, yadda and he wanted me to be his last customer, as he said, "Liz, from America!". Anyway, don't know how it happened, but soon he was reciting his poetry to get my approval. I assured him, between quick bites, that it was splendid and he should sell it.


From there I will just say that my new friend, Memet, had found love. All I wanted to do was eat. Would I like to go out and eat when he closed up? Would I like to go out tomorrow? Would I text him?

This kind of stuff does not happen to me. EVER.

I decided that I rather be hungry than still be eating when the owners set Memet free for the night. So I said thank you, dumped the rest of my food, and got up to leave. Memet handed me a piece of paper. On it was his name and phone number. He promised to share his poetry with me if I would share my heart.

Sorry I am writing this, but it is my journal, and some experiences just have to be written!

I left Memet with a, "ohh, aren't you sweet," and a wave. Then I rushed a good block away to call Dave and remind him that I missed him.

Oh how I missed him! I wanted him to be there.

He must have read my voice, because he asked where I was. I don't know what he was doing at home, but he gave me his full attention.

Once again, I so miss you Dave!

With so many tube lines completely closed or partially closed travel was a disaster. Dave was able to guide me past the closed tube stations, the ones with routes I could not use, and got me home.

Well, almost. I exited the bus at Southgate station and picked up some more shish because I was STILL HUNGRY. I got on the bus and thought it would automatically stop at the street stops. Heads up, it does not. I realized things were not right a mile or so past her stop.

Really.

By this point I had had it. I walked to another bus stop to take me back to Southgate. In the meantime I broke out the shish and ate it along side the street.  All the Brit good manners went out the window. That shish was scarfed down, American style.

P.S. I caught this video while squished like a babushka in a corner.  Classic.