Beneath the Wraps

          My mom has dementia. Normally I visit her on Tuesdays and Thursdays.  This week I happened to drop by on Wednesday evening as well.  Since she had seen me three times in a row, yesterday morning I jokingly asked, “Are you tired of me showing up on your doorstep?”           Quite relieved, she said, “Oh, I’m so glad you’re here.  I’ve been by myself all day!”  It was 10:00 a.m.           “Well, [Corey]’s here,”           “No.  [Corey] went to Las Vegas.  And I don’t know when he’ll be back.  But it sounds like he will be gone for a long time.”           “Well, his car’s out front.”           “Oh, is it?  Well he must have taken the train to Las Vega...

These are not my words - but there is certainly power and I wanted to share with any who may be following: I wish that we would all apply this to our lives.

           Shortly after Roland was called to the bishopric, he was asked to summarize a talk that had been given about the conformity of testimonies and submit it to the monthly newsletter – which actually didn’t exist before this particular bishopric.  Now there are a few people in the ward who tend to drone on and on until the gratitude that is felt in their hearts turns into penetrating boredom on the part of the audience.  Every ward has them.  They start off by expressing what it is that brought them to the podium – and then they take us on a stroll down memory lane, or into their health, or into their entire week.  Gradually the testimony gets lost in their words.  And all eyes turn to the clock and you can almost hear a chorus of silent groans. Sometimes there is a dead silence and often times the droner just feels it’s his (or her) duty to fill the silence while the audience wonders which is worse: the sil...

Ode to Skool Lunch I was working downtown when I first met you And you were fabulous! You welcomed me with your awesome deliciousness.  How your scents penetrated in my nose and I thought I had found true love,  but alas I did not visit you often.  Oh, I wanted to – I wanted to savor the succulence on a daily basis – only there was a hole in my wallet.  I was allowed to visit just once in a while and you were always so good to me.  But you always left me wanting more. How I craved for that Wonderful chicken salad and baked goods that would satisfy my pallet. Years passed.  I was no longer downtown but at the other end of the valley.  Imagine my delight when I found you near my work. Good food.  Good company. I introduced you to my friends.    We saw you just a few times but still not often.  And then I got married.  My finances we...

          When Jenna and her classmate left the car this morning, they were talking about doughnuts – more specifically doughnut holes.            I took Highness for a walk and smiled as I thought at a memory about disappearing doughnuts.           My brother Corey and I are nine years apart.  We seem to share a lot in common – particularly food habits.  Eating whatever is quick or handy.  Our kitchen skills were not the greatest. Plus we both appeared to be on the lazy side. We also have a brother Patrick – who is two years younger than I and our baby sister, Kayla, who is thirteen years younger. They are both survivor’s. And both were quite comfortable in the kitchen from an early age.           When we were younger, we used to taunt Corey by saying that Kayla could be out in the dess...

          When Corey started his Blog over six years ago, he gave himself a false identity.  He’s since been discovered by some, and I know from my own mouth there are even more that know the nature of his true identity.  However, because he hadn’t revealed his true identity on his Blog (there are certain individuals he still feel might need protection having their real identities revealed out of connection) I decided to keep mine anonymous also.           I have changed the names of most of those I have or will mention.  I started out using “Cody” instead of “Corey” but “Cody” was/is his name, not mine.  So I changed it.  And now it doesn’t seem to matter one way or another.  He’s out and those mentioned may not need his protection anymore – though he continues with his name and only partial pictures. I also keep myself anonymous for fact that Roland’s...

          Recently I was googling Individual Worth in search for a proper definition to use in one of my posts.  As I went searching I pulled up a few blog sites with inspiring stories which I would like to share and reference.           I came across an object lesson given by Stephanie Waite in which she laid out various belongings on a table and asked her class what each object was worth and what made them valuable.  Some of the objects were perhaps expensive things and some objects may have been more valuable to one than to another.  But the particular object that may have seemed worthless to most individuals was probably the most valuable thing on the table in the eyes of its initial owner.           It actually reminded me of an object that is close to Jenna – a stuffed dog she’s had since she was 6 months old – though the...

          Before Roland and I moved from our first house, he introduced me to the reality show “Chopped” a one hour show that gives four chefs the opportunity to create appetizers, entrees, and desserts using four specific ingredients – most I haven’t been familiar with or think of as too bizarre to belong with  either the rest of the ingredients or in the particular round.           I would think that there is more than eight hours of footage for each episode of “Chopped” – thus it is not just the chefs competing who get “chopped” but the editing as well.  It sickens me to know that all this wasted footage exists – that so much tape ends up on the floor.  The expense that goes into these reality series (Wife Swap is another example) and all the waste.  I could really use the money that is spent on wasted film.  So many Americans could – especially in this econ...

          Roland has often told me about different dreams that he’s had and always concludes with, “What do you think it means?”           Dreams are just that.  Some are bizaare.  Some are wonderful.  Some you hope to never “dream” again.  And perhaps some do have meaning.  Truthfully, I don’t place too much value in dreams.  I think that is how God communicated to his children at one time – and perhaps still does to some – though I think the methods of communication have broadened sufficiently since then. My personal opinion is that, overall, dreams really don’t mean a whole lot.           Still, I often have crazy dreams that I will write down or share just because they are so bizarre.  And sometimes I ask myself what would have caused me to dream it.  But I never go into depth about the possible symbo...

Roland grew up on beans and rice.    I on the other hand grew up on casseroles.  So that's what I make.  I'm fortunate that Roland loves to cook and bake and enjoys a lot more than rice and beans.  He is actually a very good cook.  Not so great at cleaning up.  But when I don't have to cook the food myself, I really don't mind. For several years I spent a lot of time on the computer.  Roland was basically self employed and I was his secretary creating a system that would work for us - advertising through post cards, letters and keeping track of addresses sent.  And Roland would cook and bake while I was on the computer.  I actually enjoyed that system. But with the broken economy and an unpromising future, Roland has taken on a job with a company that issues paychecks twice a month and gives us an actual amount to work with.  He works from 8-5 or 7-4 depending.  And so I am now responsible for seeing that dinner is rea...

          Recently I was watching a show (well, attempting to watch) called “Bunheads” The particular episode focuses around Michelle substitute teaching for Fanny, who is out of town, and, according to Facebook, will be for some time. All of the supporting characters are aware of Fanny’s extended plans except for Michelle – who hasn’t checked her Facebook page and is bothered that the whole world seems to revolve around Facebook communication. There is nothing private about Facebook.  Things are taken out of context, misunderstood, mistranslated, and up for political debate.  One of my Facebook friends joined after three years of rebellion.  Facebook was not for her.  She’s been able to communicate just fine without it – but not always so informed. Like Michelle, she’d learn from other people, “Oh, I hear your grandson won the trophy and that there will be a celebration.”  “Who else is g...