The Hope of God's Light

Grandma’s Ginger Beer | Slow Food International - Good, Clean and Fair food.

Grandma’s Ginger Beer | Slow Food International - Good, Clean and Fair food.

Winds of Change

I figure I'm pretty safe posting a little something right now. It's been so long since I've posted, probably nobody is reading. And I'm ok with that. I'm just toying with an idea that may completely change my life (don't worry, it will be good and I'm not changing my core beliefs or religion or husband or anything like that. Geez! What kind of a nut case do you take me for? A pretty serious one, perhaps, since I am, no doubt, talking to myself right now.). The point is, maybe it's better nobody knows about this current bee in my bonnet on a grand scale just yet, until it becomes reality or until it fizzles as so many of my grand plans do.
See, this is what you get when you pray and fast and listen to prophets. Inspiration. Or is it?
Boy oh boy I am one white hot mess.
Or maybe I'm just finally coming to realize my true life's work.


And here's a fun little side note: I'm going to start rehearsing with The Thrillionaires and hopefully by the end of the year I'll be worked into the schedule regular-like. So, come to the Covey Center in Provo on Saturday nights at 8pm. $7 prepaid on line and $10 at the door.
www.thrillsimprov.com

Stay tuned for more on the life change.

I Want To Believe

Not Very Christlike But Could Be Fun

Today I got a pix message on my phone from a number I didn't recognize, but somehow I opened the message before seeing who sent it. Butterfingers. The pix was some cartoon thingy that you could probably download at pornocards.com. (Don't go there. I just made it up.) It said Happy Thanksgiving and had a really lewd and inappropriate moving image for any day of the week, but especially right after church, for Pete's sake!
Then I replied: Who are you?
Then he replied: Mystery.
Then I called the number and I get a whispery, "Hello." Whereupon I launched in to a who-are-you?-I-don't-think-you-know-me-tirade, but he hung up.
Then he texted me: What do u want im in church.
I wrote: I don't think you know who I am. The pix message was in poor taste. Please tell me who you are or I will find out and file charges.
He wrote: What charges? I think your threats r as poor as ur charecter.
The spelling errors are his.
He also sent me another pix.
I was really upset. I called my neighbor who is a cop. He said I could call the local police and they could find him and charge him with telephone harrassment and lewdness. He thought it sounded like a teenage prank.
I then had to go visit some people. When I came back, I wasn't so upset and didn't think I'd call the cops on him. But I did think that I could give him a taste of his own medicine.
I'm torn. Do I just let it go and not give this guy any more of my time? Or do I plan an all out assault involving lots of public phones. Or maybe even my friends' cell phones. Or a KSL.com personal ad. Hmmm...I could have a lot of fun getting under his skin.
Well, I'm still deciding. BUT, here's his number, in case you already have decided.
HAVE FUN!
801-548-1457

drama

There was drama for FHE. I had decided that it was culture night for family night and announced that we were going to see "Pericles" (y'know, for kids), at the Orem Library (for free!) at 7 o'clock. Things were going along swimmingly with the getting of the dinner made and eaten and the getting of the shoes on. (Even the getting of the littlest bathed and in jammies--why can't I go to Shakespeare at the Library in my jammies?) We were in the truck at 6:30. Plenty of time to get good seats in the storytelling wing.
Except if, as you're getting off the freeway at Center Street, the car next to you hits a pedestrian and drives away!
And you thought I was talking about the play when I said drama. Silly you.
Well the Rose partly pulls over and jumps out of the car and runs to the 12th West intersection, chasing down the hitter. He is joined by another witness. As he walks back, I see him whip out his handy dandy notebook and jot down the license plate. He is a man on a mission. Meanwhile, another lady attends to the hitted. She is mostly just shaken up but is sitting on a precarious stretch of burm next to the off ramp. The Rose joins them. I decided to stay in the truck with my brood, hazards on.
Shortly, but very shortly, a police car is behind us with lights a-flashing. I'm about to get out and explain why we're parked in the right hand turn lane when I see the second witness approach the police car. Ambulance and Fire Truck arrive at the scene. I decide that the hitted is not the only one in a precarious location and move the truck on to 12th West on the south side of the intersection. The Rose calls me. "They want me to give a statement. I don't know how long it will take."
Sheesh. And we were doing so well. I was thinking to myself, "How bad is it that I still hope we make the show?"
Long story short (What? Too late? You know me...):
Hitted wasn't even taken away in the ambulance.
Hitter didn't run.
And we made the show. And it was good. How we love the Jolly Porter.

31:41

I arrived at the Rotary Park in West Provo at 8:00 am when they began registration and one hour before the race began. I signed up and got my sticker. (This was a kind of casual run, with all monies going to Nie Recovery.)
It was a bit long to wait but I was eager. There was another early bird who seemed lost and nervous, just like me. This was her first race and she said she hadn't been to the gym in a month. I felt pretty good about my condition, as I've been training for 8 weeks (slow and steady...)for this.
But let me bore you with the short story made long. Near the end of my high school career, I realized that I could be in serious trouble, fitness-wise, if I didn't find something active that I liked to do. You see, sports and me, we don't get on well. I played high school volley ball my freshman year. We won a game. After that, I went back to the drama a choir rooms where I belonged, never more to sally forth into the gym but for the mandatory pep rally or don't do drugs assembly.
So, I needed something to keep me from turning into an unhealthy blob. I figured running was a safe bet since all the equipment I needed was a pair of good shoes and a street and all the skill I needed was to be able to put one foot in front of the other. (Although, at times, that too has proven to be a challenge.) So, I ran. Sometimes. Without much purpose or progress. Then, as I began college, I coerced a friend of my sister, recently returned from a mission, and a former cross country runner to run with me. He ran across town to my house, ran with me, and ran back home. He was patient as my early endurance efforts carried me a full two blocks. He taught me form, skills for running up and down hills, and breathing techniques. (Turns out there is a little more to running than just strapping on a pair of shoes and going.)He encouraged me to go a little farther. And in the couple of months that we ran, I acheived the great distance of 2.25 miles. A feat I never thought I could accomplish.
Then I went to BYU and ran sometimes with my roommates. Then a mission and I ran sometimes with a companion. Then marriage and I tried kickboxing and weight training. Then in 2004, I was feeling like I was not finishing anything in my life. I was discouraged at my lack of discipline and determination and focus. I set my sights on a 10K. I used Hal Higdon's training guide for novices and in June of 2004, I ran the Salt Lake City Classic. They ran out of cups at the first three water stations before I got there so I didn't stop to hydrate. By the mile four marker, I just used my hands. Right after that was a steep hill. I walked. I walked one other portion too. I finished in 1 hour and 12 minutes. But I finished. And after giving The Rose and Mr. Man a sweaty hug, I went into the port-o-john and wept. It was awesome. I was hooked on the experience.
Then I got pregnant. Then I got pregnant again. People in better shape and with more, I don't know, awesomeness than me run through the second trimester (Marika) and others run a marathon four months pregnant (Mary), but not me.
So here I am, baby three is 17 months old and I have finally committed to the inevitable. I will run a marathon. Furthermore, I will run a marathon next year. There, I've said it. Now you all have to hold me to it.

Back to yesterday.
Almost. I was using Hal Higdon's 8 week training for a 5K and new my 5K date was October 18. I also knew I would be playing Simon Cowell at Open Auditions that day. I also did not know of any 5K in the area on October 18. Until it was announced that there would be a 5K benefitting Stephanie Nielson on the very day that I was scheduled to run a 5K.
Alisa was very generous and allowed me to be late to Open Auditions. She even made stickers for all the adjudicators to wear about the run. (Thanks Alisa! That was awesome!)
I placed myself near the beginning of the crowd to start and was quickly overtaken by half of the mass. For the first mile, I couldn't feel my feet. I hadn't realized they were so cold. I heard some other runners talking about it. It was comforting to know I wasn't suffering some bizarre neurological malady. The course took us through some quiet residential neighborhoods in the Grandview area of town. Early on, my nervous new friend from before the run, passed me by, but I caught her with about 3/4 of a mile to go. She gave me words of encouragement as I passed her and I huffed something encouraging back. I was feeling pretty strong, though and pleased that I had paced myself. The last quarter mile, with the finish in sight, I found an extra gear (maybe just a half gear), lengthened my stride and finished amidst a crowd of well wishers. Then I heard, "Cotton!" (OK, he used my real name.) There was My Canadian Rose, The Princess, and Mr. Boy. I was so happy to see them. The Rose had worked until 3 that morning, so I wasn't sure if he was going to be up to the task of getting himself up, let alone getting two others ready. (Mr. Man opted for sleeping in.)
Here's me. All sweaty and red faced in my very fashionable Pepto-Bismol colored running gear. Maybe for Christmas I'll ask Santa for some fancy schmancy, high-tech running clothes.

Where I'll Be Tomorrow Morning

Another Reason I Love This Woman

Thompson: 'Motherhood Outweighs Acting Success'
4 October 2008 7:24 AM, PDT

British actress Emma Thompson regards "giving birth without painkillers" as her biggest accomplishment in life, despite scooping two Oscars for her film work.

The Love Actually star, 49, went through in vitro fertilisation (IVF) treatment to have her only daughter Gaia, nine, with actor husband Greg Wise.

And she admits that she is more proud of going into labour without the need for drugs than she is about her career success.

She tells Britain's Easy Living magazine that her happiest moment was "just after giving birth without painkillers".

However, she confesses to harbouring an unfulfilled ambition - to expand her family.

When asked what her biggest regret was, she told the publication: "Not having been able to have more children."

Thompson turned to adoption in 2003 when she informally took in then 16-year-old Rwandan refugee Tindyebwa Agaba, who she refers to as "my son".



I know a lot of women who have done just what she has done (myself included-except the adopting a Rwandan refugee--it's on my to-do list)and don't get a write up in a magazine, but she's always been on my cool people list (I have a lot of lists)and now she can stay there.

Did I ever tell you about the time in college when my rommies and I invented the "Every Woman Club?" (Y'know, like "I'm every woman, it's all in me!")We did and on the wave of her receiving an Academy Award in screenwriting for Sense and Sensibility, I wrote a letter to Emma Thompson (C/o her management firm) asking her to be the Patron Saint of our club. I'm sure if she new me, she would have understood the tone of the letter and would have realized that I wasn't just some psycho fan asking for a handout. Yes, were she to really know me, we would be best friends and the response from her manager would have been different. I'm sure of it!

Preschool Part One

This week I had the profound pleasure of teaching preschool to The Princess and four neighborhood friends. I will have this privilege every five weeks.
Our theme for the week was COLOR.
We sang Rainbows.
"Red and yellow and pink and green. Purple and orange and blue. I can sing a rainbow, sing a rainbow, sing a rainbow too. Listen with your eyes. Listen with your eyes. And sing every thing you see. You can sing a rainbow, sing a rainbow, sing along with me."
We planted Rainbows.

We made Rainbows.


These are such sweet little ones. So curious and full of energy. I even think some of their energy rubbed off on me and I got through the day in better spirits than my amount of sleep would have normally allowed. A friend once said, "Three year olds are so delicious that they should be dipped in chocolate and sold in department stores during Easter."
A.MEN.