Outside of the Box

                I remember watching an episode of “The Twilight Zone” in which a “turning of age” theme was introduced.  Girls were expected to trade in their bodies for a much more exciting model.  There was even a catalog of models to choose from.

         

          The main character of this episode had her birthday coming up – and it was expected of her that she would choose from at least two different models.  The girl was quite plain – perhaps even homely looking.  But she had a mind – which she really wanted to keep.

          It seems like those who had changed their bodies had become so obsessed with the way they looked that they did not or would not think about anything else.  It wasn’t her.  She wanted to remain an individual and not have to join the “Stepford” clan.

          Last month I read the following story  about a quite colorful house that was built into a very earth toned neighborhood.  This in turn  reminded about this particular “Twilight Zone”  and also an episode from “Third Rock from the Sun” in which the aliens still feel inadequate as fitting in and accepted as human beings.  They decide to join a click who calls themselves normal.  They live in the average apartment where walls and floor are all one neutral color and everybody is a perfect “cookie cut-out” all from the same mold.  After only three days the aliens become bored with not being able to fulfill whatever individualism they possess and sabotage the average “rules” so that they will be kicked out of their lease agreement.

          As with any other city Herriman has its share of uppity people (no pun intended) but I’m happy to read that there are neighbors who would like to keep the colorful house as is.  And for the new homeowners sake, I hope it doesn’t have to be painted some drab color just to appease some snob – unless of course there really is a written rule: “Thou shalt NOT paint thy house with bold colors if it does not please thy neighbors”  I wonder: Does the community have their say in all the Christmas decorations?  Style of clothes that can be worn? 

          I mean I can understand if it’s honestly harmful to the community.  Don’t imagine any of those willing to see the house become a boring earth tone have ever seen or understood the movie “Up” What’s wrong with trying to fulfill a dream.

          I think people who live in the box are afraid of people who talk about moving out – let alone when they actually do.  How dare anyone shatter their drab boxed up world.  How dare someone or something should shake so hard that they are forced to notice that not all people are the same – nor do they want to be.

          Me?  I’m a shaker.  I have NEVER had the desire of being a carbon copy.  I want to be the original one of a kind – but not so it takes away from another.  I just don’t wish to feel trapped.  I enjoy being able to breathe on my own.  I think if neighbors had a say in what color I have to paint my house, I’d be a little more than sad.  I actually wouldn’t want to live in a community where I have to become somebody else.  Or nobody.  Without my individual worth I think I would cease to exist.  It would be like removing my mind.

         

          I had once taken a toll painting class in which we would complete three projects.  The first was a bat – a decoration for Halloween.  All of the class was taught to paint their bats black with white trim.  Mine was purple with pink trim.  When the class did their houses in a steal blue with red trim – I painted my house yellow. 

          I had dismissed myself from the class for whatever reason.  While I was gone, the instructor made the comment to my sister-in-law that I certainly do move to the beat of a different drummer.  That is true.  I will go miles out of my way to find the perfect tune to dance to – perfect to my ears anyway.  But I don’t expect it will be the same for all people. And it doesn’t bother me if I’m alone.  It’s what makes me tick.

          Thank you to all of those who allow individualism and may accept even if they don’t agree. Thanks to all the citizens of “Pleasantville” who learned to accept the changes and appreciate the color – expanding their thoughts and acceptance from a black and white world.

My First Pregnancy

         When our boys were 12, 13, and 15 I got pregnant.  I know the exact date, too.  Memorial weekend – May 28, 2002.  Only I didn’t know I was pregnant.  And I didn’t figure out until just before my child was aborted.  I still cry about it.

          It was the 11^th of July (I believe) when I’d gone upstairs to use the only toilet in our house.  Sharp pains I’d never felt before.  I didn’t know why.  At first I tried to ignore it.  I went back downstairs to lie beside my husband.  No – I was in pain.  I went back into the bathroom – but it wasn’t a throwing up pain.  It was different.  I can’t remember what it felt like now – I had never experienced pain like that before or since.  It wasn’t until later – much later – that I learned my belly had been filling with blood

My husband shot out of bed and announced he’d take me to the hospital.  That was a little dramatic I thought – I didn’t understand until much later on why he had responded that way.  The boys’ mother had told him she hadn’t felt well.  He dismissed the idea and she lay down and never woke up.  She died of heart failure.

There’s really not too much about that night that I actually remember.  I remember checking in.  I remember receiving an ultrasound and listening to the heart beat.  I remember being told to move myself from the gurney to the operating table.  That’s actually the last thing that I remember.  Being told.  Whether I actually moved on my own or not remains a mystery. I don’t know what kind of drugs were used on me, but I was gone.  I was in and out.  I don’t even know how long I was in the hospital.  At least two or three days.  I felt like I was in a coma for two weeks.

There were needles stuck in both of my arms.  My right arm was hooked up to IV.  My left arm?  That needle wasn’t connected to anything.  It was just there.  I remember wondering why.  I would think I’d ask.  But then I would forget about it. 

Upon my release I was given a wheel chair.  I’m assuming that I somehow managed to sit in it myself – though I don’t remember.  I do remember the nurse bending down just before I was wheeled out of my room.

“Almost forgot,” he said as he bent down to remove the needle that had been pushed into my left arm.

Oh, yes.  I had forgotten about it myself – many times. 

“What’s that for anyway?”  I asked, still feeling the sensation of the drugs that were in me.

I don’t know how slurred I was or if I sounded slurred at all. He answered, “That was in case you needed a blood transfusion”

A blood transfusion?  That sounded serious.  But I was so drugged up I just let it sink in and didn’t question it any further.

I had an appointment to go back and see the doctor.  I don’t know if it was during those two weeks or if it was right after.  I was alert enough to know I shouldn’t be driving.

My sister-in-law kept asking me questions.  They were all good questions but I didn’t have answers.  I selected her to come get me and take me to the doctor and then she could ask him all the questions as I suspected he would probably have the answers – obviously more answers than I could provide.

I learned that if we had waited another hour (before going to the hospital the day of the unusual pain) that I might have bled to death.  Wow.  So that’s why I needed a transfusion.  She asked another question (actually lots of questions – that’s actually the only one I remember) My doctor turned to me and asked if I didn’t remember.

“I was kind of out of it,” I confessed – still in a fog from whatever medication was in my system.

“Yes you were!” he said matter-of-factly embarrassed about having even asked me if I remembered.

Chicken Soup for the Soul had sent me a manuscript about the mature women.  One section contained stories about older women giving birth.  I could relate to some story beginnings and wept for our unborn child.   

Roland thought we should give her/him a name.  Not knowing the sex of our unborn baby, we named her/him Tracy.

My Three Sons

       
         When I got married for the first (and only) time, I not only got a husband,  I had a ready-made family. Our boys were 11, 12 and 14 (we were married six weeks prior to the 12 year old turning 13)

          I met the youngest one first.  My mom and I had gone over to a quadplex unit to visit someone.  We had knocked at the door but there was no reply.  I don’t know if Randy called “Hi” to us from the tree before or after we knocked.  He smiled brightly but gave no information about himself nor inquired who we were.    As it turned out the sister we were searching for had moved out and Randy was actually living at that particular unit with his two brothers and dad.

          Randy was ten going on eleven.  We had the same size hands at the time.  He shared a room with his two older brothers.  His part of the bunk and dresser top were spotless.  Randy was (still is) very neat.   Very polite kid.  Somewhat of a con artist.  Full of smiles and gratitude.

          Tony was twelve.  Very insecure.  Very much feeling the need to be accepted.  Very much wanting a stable family.

          The first time that I met Tony was inside the quadplex unit.  He had set up pop bottles at the end of the hall, using them as bowling pins as he hurled a ball towards them over the bumpy carpet.

Tony was (and still is) very different from his brothers. When we took the boys out to purchase suits for Sunday wear, our oldest and youngest went for a conservative look that one often does find in Church.  Tony wanted the loud royal blue with pinstripes, a suit designed for either the stage or very young pimps.  We had discouraged him from buying the suit that he truly wanted. (Perhaps we should have purchased it for him)

Biff actually turned 14 before Roland and I were married.  He’s always been big into health and fitness, worked out all the time, had muscles and sparkling teeth.  We had given him three tubes of toothpaste for his birthday and sent him and his brothers through a maze to play laser tag. 

All three boys had fun, but Biff was especially grateful for the toothpaste – which I’m sure took him less than a month to finish.  Upon seeing Biff’s gift, Tony panicked.  “I don’t think I’d want a shirt or tooth paste for my birthday.”

I just smiled at him and said, “And I would never get you toothpaste.  You and Biff are two entirely different people.”

I seriously didn’t even know Biff could talk for about three or four months.  Very quiet.  Always smiled.  Always put himself to bed at six and then would arise at four and walk over to the junior high and run around the track until the school doors opened.

What terrible parents we were.  It was rare that we ever got up to see our boys off to school.  And sometimes Randy would play hooky out of boredom.  He was the only one I didn’t worry about academically.  And he was the only one who made a big deal about seeing ALL of his teachers.  Which was hard. Especially when I had all three of them in junior high and 21 different teachers to see (all by myself as Roland was working )

Our boys are 17, 16 and 15 years older than Jenna.  Now they are men, all in their 20’s.

           

          Tony was the first of the three to get married.  He had joined the army and had proposed right before he went in.  Has sparkling white teeth now – and I have given him toothpaste as a gift.  Lots of gifts are different than when he was fourteen.

          Soon I will be a grandmother as he and his wife are expecting their first baby. 

          Randy goes to school full time.  Assists with orientation and enrollment.  Many things seem to come so natural and easy for him.  He catches on quickly – like a duck to water.  He is definitely the most extraverted of the three. And now he is engaged.  I will have another daughter-in-law midway through this year.

          Biff has had jobs off and on.  Nothing stable – mostly due to the economy.  Lot’s of temp jobs and trying to pass the ABVAB as the army would definitely provide benefits.  Being paid to work out, for one.

          He’s tried his hand at relationships.  Biff is sweet and has some really great qualities, but not everybody sees that.  Biff is an animal charmer.  The barkiest dogs will greet Biff as though he is a long lost friend.  I have never seen any animal behave mean around Biff.

          He is awesome at putting puzzles together or finding the difference in hidden pictures.  He is a loner.  Often he just chooses to be that way.  But sometimes he feels lonely.  He’s got some great one on one social skills around certain people.  Unfortunately many view his overall social skills as being awkward.

          Jenna assures me that Biff is the greatest “tucker-inner”  and he is definitely strong. As of now he has a “platonic girlfriend” They’re really good friends, and I would LOVE to have her as a daughter-in-law, but at this point I don’t believe that anything more will come of it except for being friends.

And there’s a very brief description of my three sons.

Why can't we all be as Forgiving as Children?

The other night Jenna got her feelings hurt when Roland scolded her for her bad behavior and sent her to her room.  On the way she let out with, "I am never ever ever going to talk to you again."
Last night Roland worked his late shift and Jenna kept on asking for him because she missed him.

Kind of reminds me of the time when Jenna had a play date with one of her classmates from school.  Normally Howard and Jenna played pretty well together - but I could sense that Howard was NOT in the mood for Jenna's playful taunting.  We had both told her to let it go - but the more we told her NOT to taunt - the more she tried to egg him on. 

Howard made a dramatic exit from our house.  I couldn't let a five year old walk home by himself.  I grabbed Jenna's coat and hand and we hurried after him - with huge gaps between us. 
When he arrived at the corner I yelled to him NOT to cross the street - as he darted out and crossed by himself anyway.  Jenna hurriedly passed me and caught up to him to egg him on some more.  That just encouraged him to go even faster while I ran breathlessly behind. 
Howard finally made it to the gate of his front yard, opened the gate, closed the gate and yelled at Jenna, "I don't want to ever see you again for a hundred years!"
And Jenna yelled back the same, "Oh, yea.  Well I don't want to see you again for a hundred years!"

On the way home the tears turned into anger.  She and Howard were no longer friends.  They would no longer be getting married as they had planned.  The world had ended.
As I suspected from Howard's behavior, he hadn't felt well.  He remained sick at home for an entire week.  Both he and Jenna went through withdrawal.  A hundred years was too long.  Heck.  A hundred minutes was entirely too long.  It was quite a long week for both of them. We finally had to break down and call Howard to find out how he was doing. 

They forgot about being mad.  They forgot about the hundred year wait.  They were friends again.  And the wedding was back on.
Children seem so much more forgiving than adults do.  They don't hold grudges.  They don't let the world get in their way.  They are great examples - not always for getting along - but at least for bouncing back.  I think that's great.

Ever read Robert Fulghum's All I Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten?  Great book!  I would encourage everyone to read it.  And then apply it to your own lives.  I have a brother-in-law who seems to have applied this to his life.  He is truly one of the happiest people I know.  If we could all be more like children.  Childlike - but not childish.

Trying my hand at different poetry types

Acrostic:

                                      Father goes to work

                                      And

                                      Mother drives to school

                                      In the car

                                      Leaving

                                      You to learn

                                                                         I am a

    great Magician pulling           

 A rabbit out                  

   of my Green hat            

  I am

           a Navigating

 Astronaut who    

             loves to Travel       

  I am an    

  Oscar                

               winning Nominee

          Doublet:

Through the barn doors we see         

         a new born foal

                                                anxious to greet the morn         

     but a new moon rises        

            creating a still mood

          Reverso:

There is a hole                         Cold.

in my sock.                              My toe is

How did it get                          there.

there?                                       How did it get

My toe is                                  in my sock?

cold.                                         There is a hole.

Villanelle:

                             From the sky comes the snow

                             Coating the world in

                             A blanket, thick and white.

                                    Mother Nature has made         

The earth cold with her creation:                

From the sky comes the snow.

                                   We can make snowmen 

In the morning from      

A blanket, thick and white

And perhaps they will grow    

If the next night should bring  

From the sky comes the snow

We can’t wrap ourselves up.    

Too cold is

A blanket, thick and white

But we can make snow

Angels and other creations      

From the sky comes snow

A blanket, thick and white

                                                          kfralc

Now this is a book I would really like for my collection

One of Jenna’s favorite places to go is the library.  When we lived in our first house, we would often walk to the library.  But as there is so much congestion between our house and the library where we currently live, we don’t have the option of walking to the library anymore. 

          There have been times when I have gone to the library without Jenna.  Often it will be in search of reference books to answer a question that she has asked either that morning or some time during the week.

          Last year I found myself in the poetry section and had checked out a beautiful book called R is for Rhyme by Judy Young.  Unfortunately Jenna does not share my love for poetry right now.  She gets bored with it.  Even the rhymes which she so often does verbally.  She just doesn’t seem to care for reading or writing in rhyme.

          Between January and April the library puts award nominee books on display and encourages children to read the books and vote for them.  Jenna likes what she reads for the most part.  There have been only a few that are just okay or that she doesn’t like at all.  Last year we read three books that included poetry.  All three were given an “okay” or “I don’t like” vote.

Just recently we found one called Mirror Mirror by Marilyn Singer, beautifully illustrated by Josee Masse.  The poetry used in this book is called Reverso – which I have never heard of before.  But it is awesome.  Jenna likes it because of the fairy tale themes but doesn’t understand the beauty of just how these verses are written.

This is an example the author uses to explain it:

                             A cat                              Incomplete:

                             without                           A chair

                             a chair:                           without

                             Incomplete.                     a cat.

Except that the verses on every other page are written from a tale’s character’s point of view.  There aren’t an exact number of lines involved.  It is just the order in which it is written – top line becomes bottom and bottom line becomes top and is read with new meaning.  Only the punctuation is changed. 

My favorites are spoken by Jack first and then the giant – or the witch to Hansel and then Gretel to Hansel.  I haven’t tried Reverso myself yet.  It looks quite challenging.  And I thank Marilyn Singer for sharing.

We do not Throw Books at our Friends!

          My church calling at this time is in the nursery.  Currently we live in a mostly geriatric ward, and thus our nursery is not really big.  Five children is the most we’ve ever had – and that was with visitors.

          Andrea is an only child. She is quiet.  Doesn’t do much interaction with the other children.  Mostly just stands back and observes.  Sometimes she cries for mommy and daddy – but not too often.  She is easy to watch.

         

          Aden – no relation to Andrea.  They just happen to have similar names. He was our oldest child in our nursery and has started sunbeams just this year.  He is the youngest of four children at home.  Also very quiet.  But than so is his mom.  Aden plays quietly – occasionally says a word or two, but not much verbally.

          For a while that is all that we had.  And then Mason’s family started coming regularly.  What a handful.  Spent most of the time crying – or else he would try bullying the other two.  And Andrea is the one who always got hurt – not on purpose necessarily.  She would just happen to be in the way.

          Mason came for a while and then started staying home with dad.  We see him on occasion, but not so much anymore.

          Faith’s family moved in mid September.  She is the youngest of six.  Just a wee bit spoiled – not so much by mom and dad but from at least four of the five sibs – most of all her brother, who adores her.  For a month Faith cried whenever mom or dad would leave.  We played music for her.  That seemed to calm her down.  She LOVES singing time. 

          After a month she got used to us.  She decided that she would push buttons of each child and leader.  She would decide (and still does) that she would want to play with the toy that Aden was playing with.  She would take it away and smile – not that she really actually wanted to play with it – she just wants power – and she wants everyone in nursery to KNOW that she has power.  She doesn’t.  She just thinks she does.     

          On the last week in November we were introduced to our new challenge – who was/is louder and bigger than Mason and Faith combined – a new challenge for Faith – but I really think with this new power struggle that is taking place HOPE is going to win.  Hope and Faith – can you believe it?  They are both two and thus far neither one seems to live up to her name. 

           I have told Faith NOT to push Hope’s buttons – Hope is twice her size and could sit on her and squash her.  Actually, out of all the children, Faith is the smallest and weighs practically nothing.  Mason and Hope are both solid – and become heavier when kicking and screaming.

          Hope is an only child – she has never had to share toys.  Sweet, innocent Andrea was riding on a horse and Hope shoved her off – though we have two other horses.  Poor Andrea.  Hope had hurt her intentionally – whereas the pain caused by Mason has always been unintentional.  And Hope is so big and strong that the leaders may get hurt if she continues to struggle.

          Hope and Mason have not met one another – though I doubt Hope would even notice.  I can just visualize the two of them pushing and punching each other and having to quickly move Andrea to the other side of the room – while Faith continues to smile in her mischievous way. 

          Look forward to watching their personalities develop. Hopefully we can help them to understand why friends are important. Heaven help ALL of us – especially Andrea – who’s really just an innocent by stander – literally.

Jenna loves to assist

          Jenna loves to clean the church and do volunteer work at the storehouse.  She actually makes a game of it and will stock items on the shelves while I pull merchandise from the warehouse.  Theoretically she’s not allowed in the warehouse for safety reasons.

          When Roland and I have gone to the warehouse, he always wants to do the freezer and sends me in the refrigerator to put out fruit, vegetables and dairy products while he does the meats. 

          We all three went out to the storehouse this morning.  Roland went into the freezer and I pulled boxes for Jenna to open and put away.  She’s most comfortable with the bottom two shelves – though she can reach the third one from the floor.  But there is no way she can do the top right now.  Often it is a stretch for me.

          She is usually happily singing away as she stocks – often putting smiles on those around her.  Only she wasn’t singing today.  And she found something that she found she liked better than stocking shelves.  Opening and breaking boxes down.

          At first the idea did not thrill me – after all she could puncture herself.  But she was careful.  And I actually found myself taking advantage of it.  I don’t like breaking down boxes.  I would stack cans on the top two shelves and hand her boxes to break down.  And then I would return to the warehouse to pull more merchandise and dispose of the used boxes.  Most of the time I went back to the warehouse, I saw Roland looking more like Frosty the Snowman each time.

          Jenna felt a bit cheated and wanted to know just how cold the freezer was.  And while I wasn’t looking, Roland took her back there with him and let her assist.  She felt so grown up!  I think that’s why she likes going there, actually.

          She and Roland are now making cookies.

Artificial Trees: Pros and Cons

         New Years day (for me) has always been the day for taking down the tree – I am usually sad about seeing the holidays come to an end.  This season we put our tree up quite early.  Jenna insisted we put it up the day after Thanksgiving.  I don’t think I’ve ever decorated quite that early before.

          It was a nice day.  The tree was in the shed.  Hauling it out would be no problem as there wasn’t any snow build up in the way of the doors or in the path I would trudge.  I was grateful for Jenna’s enthusiasm and brought in all the decorations for her to choose what and where they would go.

          The first artificial tree I remember was in a box.  I don’t actually remember it on display.  It was one of those very old silver ones that came with a color wheel – folks could plug in the wheel of four colors and the tree would appear to magically change colors as the wheel turned.  A thing of the past.  Quite lame by today’s standards.

          I remember going to the tree lot when I was a kid.  My brother and I always wanted a flocked tree.  Flocked trees were cool.  And you could actually buy them pre flocked or pay extra to have it done.  It was rare that we had a green tree – but I do remember having them.

          We would get home from the tree lot and it seemed like dad ALWAYS had to make an adjustment – cutting down its size to either fit it into the stand or trimming the top in order to get the star on top.  It would never be even, and we always had 15 - 20 books around the stand so that it wouldn’t topple over.

          I don’t remember ever having an artificial tree when dad was alive.  I remember sap and pine needles and watering the tree – trying to prevent it from drying out and rarely succeeding.  I remember pricking myself when attaching or trying to remove ornaments and I remember finding pine needles buried in the carpet long after the tree was taken down (apparently we had quite a pathetic vacuum cleaner)

Mom and I decided to try the artificial tree.  They looked pretty real.  No books, no pine needles – but no fresh pine smell either.  But would you believe – mom and I are Ethel and Lucy when we attempt any project.  We ended up using books – and though we didn’t notice at first, the tree would fray a bit when we were decorating and undecorating.  We still had pine needles on the carpet!  On the plus side there was no sap or dry sticker.  The synthetic seemed to vacuum up much more easily.

My husband and I have had artificial trees.  Our first was actually a display tree for a winter scene.  Talk about your pathetic Charlie Brown types! Our most current tree came with lights.  Now some people enjoy adding their own strands of lights.  I personally enjoy the convenience of not having to.  It’s a plus not to have to untangle and fiddle with strands of lights.

When hanging ornaments, there are no pine needles to pick up.  No more stabbing ourselves with pine needles. We can hang ornaments with ease – and can actually make the branches work to our benefit – for example if the ornament is fragile, we can twist the branch to secure the ornament in place.  Try that with a real tree! 

My husband is great at putting things together.  No more books!  And we haven’t had any false needles end up on the floor either.

Okay, it has to be stored year after year- and dug out of storage.  But sometimes there’s a convenience that goes with it.  This year, for example, we decorated early (in my opinion) and didn’t have to wait for Christmas tree lots or spending money on fresh trees or transporting the tree home (which can actually be a bigger hassle than storage – depending on the vehicle used)

So there you have it.  Artificial trees last longer and overall are way easier to maintain.  That’s my opinion. 

My Brothers: Quiet Strength

I have two brothers.  Patrick is two years younger than I.  Corey is nine years younger.  Both brothers are quite knowledgeable in the gospel.  Both are quiet.  Both are very forgiving of others.  Both pocess qualities very much like our dad. Both attend Church meetings each week – but each is on a mission that’s entirely different from the other

          The eldest of the two currently serves as second counselor in the bishopric. Patrick is diligent and responsible.  Keeps confidences.  He’s organized.  GREAT father! Coveted husband. A good guy whom people respect.  Did I mention quiet?

          I am actually closer to Corey than I am to Patrick.  Corey is an actor.  When he appears on stage it isn’t known how quiet he is when he’s not performing.  Corey is very diligent and responsible.  He keeps confidences.  He is very organized.  People respect him. People admire him. When he’s not performing, Corey is pretty quiet.

          Corey attends two meetings on Sunday.  He does not hold a calling.  He doesn’t participate in class.  He doesn’t bear his testimony – not allowed anyway.  But he does have one. Recently he attended a conference for the LDS gay and lesbian community and did have the opportunity to bear his testimony there.  And he bears testimony in his Blog as well.  He’s a great example.

          I learn so much from my brothers’ examples.  Neither gets uptight with situations at hand.  It is what it is.  They are very compassionate and forgiving.  They don’t get mad at other people.  Mistakes happen.  There is always allowance.  I need to hang around my brothers more. 

          I’ve tried letting go of that grudge thing – it hasn’t always worked.  I know I am a lot happier when I can let it go and move on. Though I don’t always let go.  It eats at me.  I’m not saying my brothers aren’t ever bothered – but they are a lot more forgiving than I – especially Patrick.

          Corey usually resorts to writing letters.  He will wait a few days before mailing or confronting.  More times than not he’s gotten over whatever it was and ends up just throwing the letter away.   But there have been times the letter was mailed.  And for the most part that seems to produce positive results as well (or at least that how it appears to me)

          Corey is a lot more eloquent with words than I.  For the most part I don’t have that gift – especially verbally. So often my words are misconstrued.  I don’t know if it’s the delivery or my approach or what.   But there have been hurt feelings – whereas Corey’s anger doesn’t always transfer – even verbally.  He is pretty calm at explaining himself and often gets the other person to see his point of view – even if not agreed with – he just has a better way of presenting himself.

          I get upset or frustrated.  I often cry.  I wish one could lose weight through tears.  I’m sure I’d be wearing the same size as Metal’s Barbie.

          I love my brothers.  I love their example.  I will continue to strive to be more like them.