All Things Pumpkin

It's kind of tradition every year in the Fall to do lots of things with pumpkins. Pumpkins run a plenty around us, and you can usually find a good-sized one for a decent price for carving purposes. The last several years, Mom and I have spent time with David and his girls/family while I carve a pumpkin. Mom never participates in the carving, but I think she really enjoys listening to us talk, laugh, joke, and encourage each other as we gut those Jack O'Lanterns and make them into something cool. This year is no exception. David has already invited us for our annual carving fest, and I hope to pick up my pumpkin in the next couple of weeks so I get my pick of the litter and don't have to take whatever is left. 

Along with pumpkin carving, there are tons of pumpkin recipes that are so delicious. I could eat anything pumpkin year round. One of my favorite recipes of all time is one we used to make around Christmas every year. It's a pumpkin log with a cake-like pumpkin outside, cream cheese frosting inside, and sprinkled with powdered sugar. We use to freeze it and eat it over weeks during the holidays. Such fond memories of the pumpkin log. It's been years since we've done it because it's very messy and takes a lot of time and effort (and the entire kitchen to get it done). Maybe this year I can change that and keep a frozen stash. Mmmm mmmm mmmm. 

Something else that has become a tradition more recently is making pumpkin stew. This is a hearty meal and very filling. It makes great leftovers and warms up well in the microwave or reheated in the oven. Even Dad, who doesn't like squash of any kind, liked this recipe and gobbled it up. It's great served with a side of garlic bread or dished up on its own. And usually there's not much room, if any, for dessert. I thought it would be fun to include the recipe here for future reference. Just keep in mind that the recipe doesn't contain any measurements. It takes adjusting depending on how many pumpkins of stew you plan to make. And you don't have to add everything listed here. You can pick and choose and cater to your own tastes (or your family's tastes). I guarantee that kids will love it, especially if you have them help you make it. They think it's pretty cool when you take a pumpkin out of the oven and have dinner baked inside of it. Yuuuuuuuuuumy! 

Pumpkin Stew (the basics) 
Small pumpkins (usually one per person, depending on size; some people call them sugar pumpkins, but they're not the really tiny ones used for decoration)
Rice or potatoes
Tomatoes (canned or fresh; used to help create moisture, so do not drain the juice)
Green beans
Corn
Carrots
Onion
Peppers (of any color, although yellow and orange give it sweet flavor, while red and green make it a little spicier)
If you're David, add jalapenos! 
Hamburger (you could probably use chicken, turkey, or pork, but I like it with red meat)
Any other veggies you want (cabbage, zucchini, etc.)
Meat or veggie stock
Salt and pepper to taste
Cheese (my personal preference is a sharp cheddar)

Preheat oven to 400 degrees Fahrenheit. 
Gut the pumpkins (use the seeds for a treat later!) by cutting off the tops and leaving as much flesh as possible inside. Lather the outside of the pumpkins (to avoid burning and over-drying) with olive oil or vegetable oil. Place on a cookie sheet (or other heavy pan where they can sit flat). 
Cook the hamburger (or other meat) and rice or potatoes (separately). Drain the hamburger for less fat intake if you want. It helps to keep a little bit of fat with the meat so the "stew" stays semi-wet. If using potatoes, cut them up into bite-sized pieces. Cut all the other veggies into bite-sized pieces. If you want the harder veggies (like carrots and peppers) to be fully cooked (soft to the bite) saute them in a bit of butter and/or olive oil before adding them to the stew combination. 
Combine the meat, starch, and all the veggies together using the juice from the tomatoes and the meat or veggie stock until you get a thick, consistent stew-like mixture. Spoon the mixture into the pumpkins. Bake at 400 degrees for about an hour (sometimes less, sometimes more depending on the size of the pumpkins). You'll see the outside of the pumpkins start to "shrivel", and that's how you can tell it's done cooking. 
Remove from the oven and let rest for a few minutes. It's best to eat a whole pumpkin in a bowl, but they can be cut into sections and eaten on a plate as well. Top with cheese, and eat the pumpkin out of the shell along with the rest of the stew. 

There you have it! Pumpkin stew to feed the masses. You won't regret making it. In fact, it might become your new Fall family tradition. I'm not sure if we'll make it this year, but I do know that it's one of my favorites and well worth all the work. 

And if you have a David around your house, persuade him into making homemade caramel ice cream to go along with it (or vanilla with caramel topping). It will be the perfect and complementary dessert for your pumpkin stew. Plus, ice cream kind of fills in all the little holes in your stomach that didn't get enough food, so there's ALWAYS room for ice cream. 

I'm looking forward to Fall (and other holiday) traditions this year. Fall is my favorite season. I love everything about it. There's nothing better than the sounds of leaves falling to the ground and crunching under foot, the wind blowing, the air getting crisper and cooler, the smells of cinnamon and nutmeg and spice and pumpkin wafting in the air, the vibrant colors of leaves, the sweaters and scarves that come out of hiding, and the taste of romance in the air (even when there's nobody to be romantic with). Fall is just an amazing season. Even 'The Bear' likes Fall. He perches himself on the porch and surveys his kingdom for longer amounts of time in the Fall. I think he knows what follows ... snow and freezing cold! 

In the meantime, I'm going to savor every delicious, delightful moment of my favorite season. Please stay forever, Fall! 

Abandonment Issues?

When I was a kid, I always wanted to go where my mom and dad went. If they were having a Friday night card night with Huffs and Leifsons, I wanted to be there. If they were going on a date, I wanted to go. If there was a trip to the store, I wanted in. It didn't matter where they were going, I wanted to be with them. 

It continued as I got older. I loved to have sleepovers with friends, but they worked out best when the friends came to my house. Sometimes I could make it through the night sleeping at Shauna's house (which was just around the corner, and through the backyard fence), but even then I usually sneaked home early to say hi to Dad before he left for work. One particular time, I sneaked home to find the doors locked (Dad forgot to unlock them for me when he got up). Instead of bothering the family by knocking, I waited outside in the front yard on the swing set. I stubbed my toe as I came home that morning and sat with it bleeding and gross until Dad opened the front door for me. He actually brought the Band-Aids and Neosporin outside and fixed me up as I sat on the swing. Once he was done with that and we'd had a hug, I went back over to Shauna's and sneaked back up on to the deck and pretended I'd been there the entire night. I don't know if anyone was the wiser or not, but it was the only way to keep my sanity. 

There were other times I had problems, too. I remember sleeping over at my cousin, Kandice's, house one particular night. For whatever reason, I was convinced there would be a fire or a break in or something wrong at my house that I stressed myself out completely. It was around 1:00 a.m. that I finally got the nerve to go into my Uncle Mark and Aunt Laurel's room to ask if they'd take me home. Mom and Dad were probably not too happy about the call in the middle of the night saying I was coming home, but they never said anything to me about it. Mom did take time the next day to reassure me that nothing bad was going to happen to them just because I slept over at a friend's house. 

Later, when we have moved homes and I had grown up a little, there were many times my parents were going some place and asked me if I wanted to come. (They were likely so used to having me around it probably felt weird for them to not have me tagging along.) Anyway, I was trying to assert my independence and said that I didn't want to go. They asked again, and I declined. They let me be a "big girl" and left on their own. 

I sat on the couch and cried practically the entire time they were gone because I had chosen not to go with them, to be with them, or to spend time with them. 

This happened more than once. Much more than once. It went on until I was well into my teens. Pathetic, right? 

A psychologist or psychiatrist might say I have abandonment issues. Maybe I do, maybe I don't. What I do know is that I had a fear of losing the people most important to me. When we lost Dad to Parkinson's and Diabetes and a massive stroke, it was awful. But I survived. That was an important lesson to learn at his passing. I still struggle though. 

Several years ago, before Dad died, I traveled to the Washington DC are to visit Shauna and her family. It was something like a two-and-a-half week trip. It was totally amazing, and I loved every minute of it! But I was so home sick the whole time. I missed Mom and Dad and Bear. I worried about being killed on the plane ride home. I feared for bad things that might happen to Mom and Dad while I was gone. It was worry and fear over things I couldn't control. How is that rational? 

Anyone else have weird things that might be considered "abandonment issues?" I think I'm a healthy, thriving adult with a fairly good grasp on life. Maybe not? 

Grammar Lessons

My mom was a middle and high school English teacher for years. Something like 23 years to be more exact. On family road trips we would play word games as we drove. It was a time before iPads and electronic devices could keep you bombarded at every turn (thank goodness!). We were corrected at home on proper grammar usage. We were tested on our spelling words. We understood homonyms, homophones, synonyms, and antonyms. We were taught the difference between metaphors and similes. We learned when to capitalize high school and when not to, and we learned why it mattered. It was important to my mom that we understood basic principles of the English language so that we could not only speak correctly, but write correctly as well. In other words, my parents wanted us to be an educated family - one that loved to learn and continued to learn throughout life. 

For many years, I thought I, too, would like to be an English teacher. That was before I realized "babysitting" other people's kids all day was not something I'd enjoy doing, whether I got paid for it or not. That realization, however, did not deter me from continuing to use proper English and avoid common grammatical errors. People make major mistakes in their writing, especially on social media (it's awful!), so I thought I'd go over some basic grammar lessons in this post as a reminder (mostly to myself) that I still understand and know the basic principles of the English language. Mostly, this post is to show Mom how much I appreciate her instruction and to let her know I "got it" even when she thought I probably wasn't listen or didn't get anything out of it. 

Your and you're - people misuse these SO often, and it drives me crazy. 
Your is possessive. "I like your hair style." "Would you like your meal warmed?" "Your car is so clean!" Use your when trying to show possession. 
You're is a contraction of you and are. "Mom said you're going to the mall." "If you're going to the store, may I come with you?" "You're so amazing!" You're can only be substituted in place of you are. 

Their, there, and they're - I can't even explain the number of people that misuse these on a regular basis.  
Their is possessive (like your). "May I go to their house?" "This is their car." "We've been to their cabin before." Use their when trying to showing possession. 
There is a place. "Have you been there before?" "Can we go there for lunch?" "I was there when I was five." Any time a destination is involved use there. 
They're is another contraction of they are. "They're going to the movies." "They're your friends, right?" "They're unbelievable!" They're can only be substituted in place of they are.

Anxious v. Eager - this is misused so often that people have started using the words interchangeably, and they don't mean the same thing! 
Anxious usually has a negative connotation. "I'm anxious about my upcoming math test." "This is the first time I've cooked this meal, and it made me a little bit anxious." You could be anxious to go on a trip, but only if you are feeling some trepidation about the travel or the place you would stay, etc. 
Eager has less of a negative connotation. "I'm eager about my upcoming trip." "I'm eager to get the results of my driving test." Eager fits more along the lines of excited and should be used as a way to express that you're looking forward to something. 

You and I v. You and Me (or Me and You) - these are incredibly misused, and it's becoming more commonplace all the time to use them incorrectly. Honestly, people sound stupid when they misuse them. I find myself falling into the casual trap and misusing them sometimes, and I want to punch myself in the face for it. I'm to the point now that I correct myself when I misuse them in the hopes that others will catch on to the incorrect usage. 
The easiest way for me to explain this concept is to give an example of why a certain usage is incorrect. "Will you join Bob and me for dinner?" You wouldn't ask, "Will you join I for dinner?" No! You wouldn't! And if you would, stop it! That's the correct usage of you and me. Here's another. "You and I should go to the movie this week." You would not say, "Me should go to the movie this week." Instead, you would say, "I should go to the movie this week", and because of that you would say, "You and I" and not "You and me." Make sense? That's the easiest way (for me) to tell whether or not I'm using the phrase correctly. Does it make sense to use the phrase you and I, or should I use you and me? Use them both in the question or sentence and that will help determine which you should use. 

Anyway - please never say anywayS! It's just ... wrong. Saying something like, "Anyways, I'm going to ...." is annoying and makes you sound stupid. Instead, use the word anyway (singular). It's proper and won't make you sound like a hick from the sticks. 

Ignorant v. Rude - these are not the same, no matter how much you think they are or how many times you have used them interchangeably. 
Ignorant means that a person doesn't know something. If you are ignorant about Mexico, you know little (or nothing) about it's cultural, ethnicity, people, customs, etc. If someone says, "Bill is so ignorant because he called me a jerk," that would be incorrect usage of the word. Bill calling you a jerk makes him rude. If Bill has never been to Mexico and tries to talk about the subject intellectually he is ignorant. His "knowledge" about the matter would likely be based on assumptions or things that others have told him, not based on personal knowledge from being in the country or reading factual material. 
Rude is a different animal. If you belch at the dinner table in America, that's rude. If you're from Japan (I think it's Japan anyway; I'll have to verify the country and culture) where belching at the table is considered a compliment to the cook, and you were visiting America for the first time with no foreknowledge about the country, and you belched at the dinner table, you could potentially be considered both rude and ignorant. You would be rude because belching at the dinner table is considered bad manners in America, and you would be ignorant because you didn't know/learn enough about the country to understand table manners. See the difference? There IS a difference, I promise. 

Nauseous v. Nauseated - oh my, this one is a problem for many people. Unfortunately, many people also don't realize they are demeaning themselves when they use one incorrectly. 
Nauseous is something you feel because you are affected with nausea. For example, to some people the smell of popcorn cooking is nauseating. It can cause nausea, therefore, popcorn cooking is a nauseous smell for some. If you say you are nauseous, you admit that you affect yourself with nausea. (You make yourself sick, in other words. Not likely true ....) 
Nauseated is when you feel sick because you have the flu or ate something funny. The proper thing to say when you feel sick is, "I feel nauseated." Avoid saying, "I feel nauseous" as it will indicate you don't feel well because you make yourself sick. 

That is your grammar lesson for today, kids! I hope you will find it helpful and use it to sound (and write!) smarter. And if you find yourself in a lurch, just "wow" people by telling them the longest single-word palindrome in the English language: redivider. Bam!

Choking on Bacon

My mom graduated from college while she was still pregnant with me. She didn't start working full-time as a teacher until I was in Kindergarten. Prior to that, she held several jobs, but we were by no means wealthy. We never went without the things we needed, but if it was a want, you couldn't have it. My older siblings know and remember that fact a lot more than I do, but I do remember how far Mom could stretch a can of tuna fish to feed five kids and her and Dad. It was more Miracle Whip sandwich than it was tuna sandwich, but we didn't know the difference, and I don't think it mattered anyway. We were taught to be grateful for what we had.

Because of our monetary situation, it was rare that we ate things like bacon. It was too expensive, so the only time I remember eating it was when it was on super reduced sale or given to us by someone else (which I don't think ever happened). The same thing happened with hamburger and any kind of beef, pork products, and probably chicken as well, although chicken probably would have been cheaper and easier to come by. We ate a lot of rice and pasta dishes. And casseroles. And lots of vegetables and fruits because they were cheap at the time (unlike now where you can't eat healthy without giving up your firstborn and 12 batches of your own plasma) and because Grandpa Koyle's garden was full of them in the Fall. (Thinking of his fresh tomatoes still makes me salivate!)

There must have been a good sale on bacon during the summer that I was four. I remember I was four because I hadn't started school yet, and I was both excited and nervous to go to Kindergarten. I also remember that it was summer because my brother, Jon, was home that morning for some reason, and I was wearing shorts and a lightweight T-shirt. Mom had cooked bacon that day, and we were having bacon and tomato sandwiches for lunch. Sometimes (probably more than I knew) she would make lunch and take it to Dad at the dry cleaning shop. Other times, he would come home to eat, but more often than not he had a hard time getting away from that place (for lunch or anything else, including vacations).

I was standing in the kitchen as Mom finished cooking the bacon and started putting Dad's lunch together. I asked Mom what she was cooking and what we were having for lunch. With an excited smile on her face Mom replied, "We're having bacon! Bacon and tomato sandwiches."

My response (as always) was, "I don't like (fill in the blank here with any food item, and this time it was) bacon."

She assured me I would love bacon. It's not that I was necessarily a picky eater (was I?), but it was more that I was afraid of the things I didn't know. I wouldn't eat mushrooms because (I got words mixed up a lot as a kid) I thought they were mushworms, and by being mushworms it meant they were worm poop that had been "mushed" up into that shape. So you can see how new foods might have been problematic for me, right? Anyway, Mom assured me I would like bacon if I would just try it. And besides, she reminded me, it wasn't often we got to have bacon.

After a lot of coaxing and convincing (and probably some bargaining with something I wanted, like cheese), I decided to try the bacon. Mom handed me a piece that had been well-cooked (not burned, just not fatty) and said, "Now, be sure to chew it up really well. Just keep chewing and chewing and chewing until it's small enough to swallow, okay?" I stared at the bacon and nodded my head in the affirmative.

Who knows how long I stared at the piece of bacon before taking a bite? It could have been hours knowing me and my stubborn ways. Eventually, I took a bite.

It was kind of a big bite.

Mom noticed how much I bit off and reminded me again to chew it and chew it and chew it.

Yeah, uh huh, okay, sure Mom. I will chew this until the cows come home. I will chew it so well you won't even ...

... UH OH.

I had swallowed without chewing really well and there was a huge piece of bacon caught in my throat and I couldn't breathe and I was choking and the world was caving in on me and my eyes were going black and the room was getting small and ...

... then Jon reached around me and gave me the Heimlich maneuver. Where did he learn that?!

And then Mom was all over me. "Are you okay? Are you all right? Can you breathe?"

YES, thank you.

And on the floor was a balled up piece of bacon. Which Jon promptly picked up and threw away. Thank him! I couldn't have seen it for much longer without losing more than my bacon.

Things calmed down after that. There were no adverse effects. Jon sat down to eat his bacon and tomato sandwich, and I went with Mom to take lunch to Dad.

When we got home, I believe I ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch.

Or was it mostly Miracle Whip with a little tuna?

Either way, it tasted good to me and helped Mom keep her sanity. Win-win.

For the record, I really like bacon.

This Lady ...

... is one amazing person.

Today, Mom is 70+ years young, and she is as sharp, witty, sensible, kind, loving, gentle, thoughtful, cheerful, optimistic, funny, clever, smart, and graceful as they come. Happy birthday, Mom!

Some of Mom's favorite things include:
Reading (anything)
Writing
Listening to good music
Telling stories
Having "club" with Freda and Colleen
Creating memories
Spending time with her kids and grandkids
Eating (very important)
Being creative
Watching "The Price is Right", "Wheel of Fortune", and "Jeopardy"
Hanging out with our dog, Bear
Doing Family History
Sharing
Celebrating Christmas
Learning/Studying
Traveling
Spending time with her siblings
Shopping
Teaching
Doing missionary work
Attending the temple
Going to the movies
Indulging me (also very important)
Serving others
Being an awesome friend
Giving, giving, giving
Smiling

Some things Mom doesn't like include:
Planning meals
Cooking meals
Being cruel to anyone or anything
Swearing or using curse words
Learning anything new about the computer (although she can, and she does)
Being late
Sharing her fruit tart from Kneaders (or any dessert for that matter)
Frowning

Some of Mom's accomplishments include:
David Joe
Lisa Marne
Jonathan Paul
Andrea Kristine
Susan Elizabeth
Katherine Janae
Thirteen grandchildren
Three (and counting) great-grandchildren
Serving an individual mission to Chile
Marrying Joe in the Salt Lake Temple
Being a fantastic mother
Graduating from college
Sharing the gospel
Teaching middle school and high school
Supporting her family financially
Showing her children and grandchildren how important it is to have a good education
Loving and caring for her parents and two aunts
Serving two missions with Joe
Teaching Relief Society
Traveling to Europe twice - while chaperoning high school kids both times
Showing her children and grandchildren the importance of service and missionary work
Surviving the death of her husband, Joe, and her daughter, Susan
Finding lost ancestors and doing their temple work
Being a friend to everyone she meets

Some talents Mom has and shares:
Making Russian needle point creations
Writing
Playing Hooked on Words
Mastering the iPad
Creating pillows and other works of art with wool applique
Loving the scriptures and other good books
Studying gospel topics
Having an optimistic outlook about everything
Giving good advice - lots and lots of good advice
Making new friends
Being generous and kind

I could (and probably should) say a whole lot more about her, but it would take pages and pages of internet space. In fact, it would probably take up the whole internet to tell you everything I love about my mom. There would be no room for anyone else to share anything on the web. Not even Wikipedia could hold a candle to her quantity and quality of good attributes. She is an amazing mother, a loving and kind soul, an awesome sister and aunt, a gracious daughter, an incredible host, a classic entertainer, a funny-in-all-the-right-ways gal, an eternal optimist, a silver-lining finder, and the best friend I have ever had.

Here's to you, Mom. And here's to another 70+ years with us as long as you're healthy, happy, and want to be here. Happy birthday! I love you!!!

Learning How to Use A Fork

When I was about four years old I shared the smallest bedroom in the house with my sister, Lisa. She's 10 1/2 years older than I am, but she kind of liked me. (She might actually admit now that she did, in fact, like me then.) I'm sure I did stuff to annoy her, but she was good to keep that to herself. Her (our) room was always a mess. Clothes and shoes were everywhere. Dirty dishes were strewn about, and there may have even been food hanging around. Gross. You couldn't just go to bed at night. It was an ordeal to clean up the mess. Dad even got a photo of it at one of its worst moments. He showed it to Lisa and she said, "Where is that?!" As if she'd never seen it before. The conversation that ensued trying to prove it was her room was hilarious and ridiculous. I'm still not sure whether or not Dad "won" the argument. 

Like most four-year-olds, I was precarious and loved to find out how things worked. My curiosity sometimes got the best of me. And it still does occasionally. There was just so much to learn and see and do. Because I shared a room with a much older sibling, I thought my life should be as interesting as Lisa's life seemed to be. 

One night, as I was getting ready for bed and playing (aka wasting time getting in my PJs) in the bedroom, I noticed a fork lying on a plate in the room. I had watched Lisa a hundred times, or more, plug in her curling iron and blow dryer to the outlet in the wall. Those items were strewn about the floor in that room as well. What wasn't strewn about in that room? In fact, I think there may have been curling iron burns on the carpet of that bedroom. It seems like there were at least two in or near the closet. 

You can probably imagine where this story is going. I took the fork and "plugged" it into the wall socket. An instant tingling sensation went up my arm. My teeth were clenched tightly together. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end, and suddenly I felt a bit ... strange. I felt my grip on the fork tighten and then realized I should probably let go. The fork dropped to the ground, and I sat there on my knees not sure what had just happened. 

I don't remember if the lights flickered or what, but the next thing I remember was Dad coming down the stairs and into the bedroom. He took one look at my hair standing straight up on my head and knew what had happened. The electricity was still seeping out of me as he tried to smooth my hair back into place. He was talking to me, but I remember not being able to answer back unless it was a yes or no question I could answer with a nod. 

Dad helped me finish changing into my pajamas, and by that time Lisa returned to the room from wherever she had been in the house. He lit into her for leaving the plate, the fork, the trash, the clothes, the shoes, and everything else all over that room. Look what happened because of her slobby lifestyle! Didn't she care that I had electrocuted myself and could have died? Didn't she?! Dad had a lot to say that night, and for once, Lisa just listened and kept saying to me over and over, "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry!" All the while I just nodded while I tried to keep my eyes in their sockets. 

Finally, Dad got over it and laid out a blanket and a pillow on the floor. He told Lisa to get to bed. Then, he turned out the lights, and in his clothes, he got down on the floor with me. For the first little bit, I had random jerking motions coming out of my body. He would just hold my arm or leg tightly until it passed. We (or maybe it was just me) eventually fell asleep. Dad stayed there the entire night making sure I was all right. 

I don't know much about electricity. Science has never really been my forte. I couldn't figure out why Dad stayed with me all night long, or why he told me not to take a bath until the next night. It wasn't until later, when I actually took a science class in school, that I realized Dad was worried I still had electricity coursing through my body. He knew Lisa wouldn't wake up or know what to do with me if she did wake up and something was wrong. Dad was so worried about something going wrong or being wrong with me that he opted to lie on the hard floor (it was carpeted, but still) sharing a blanket and pillow with me so I could sleep and he could breathe. 

Interestingly, there are a few things I learned from this experience. Number one, I should have invented those plug covers and become a multi-millionaire. Number two, it really is important to have a somewhat clean room (although my current bedroom would call me a hypocrite right now). And number three, parents make some real, serious sacrifices for their children, even if sometimes it's just for their own sanity. 

Americans Love Lists

Since Americans love lists, I thought it would be fun to make a list of the things I remember about summer as I was growing up. It would be too long to list everything, so I'll just go with the things I remember most vividly. These are in no particular order. 

Bike rides
Swimming at the pool and buying a Big Hunk afterward
Running through the sprinklers
Ice cream trucks (with the rocket shaped red, white, and blue treats)
The July 24th Parade
The carnival
The rodeo
Eating popsicles outside
Running barefoot
Cotton candy
Big Wheels
Jumping rope
Handstand competitions in the shade
Plucking fresh fruit off the tree and eating it without washing it
Sleeping in
Bathing at night and the water would turn an ugly gray from all the dirt
Wearing braids and pony tails in my hair
Trying to make raisins out of grapes
Lilac bushes
Mowing the grass
Playing at the park and at the school playground
Eating watermelon
Sudden rain storms and the July/August "monsoon" season
Snow on the top of Mount Timpanogos until July
Wearing a swimsuit like it was an actual piece of clothing
Thongs (aka flip flops these days)
Sleeping outside in the back yard under the stars or in the big tent
Picking the garden clean with Grandpa
Mom and Grandma bottling fruits and veggies and jams
Grandma's hair being done by Mom while I played under the kitchen table
Playing with friends and cousins
Family reunions and family parties
A new dress for Church
Scraped knees, elbows, chins, and stubbed toes
Mosquitoes, mosquitoes, mosquitoes
Chirping crickets
Singing birds (that always drove me crazy, especially early morning)
Sleeping without any covers in one of Dad's old t-shirts
Staying up late to watch movies
Mom's yummy breakfasts every morning
Saturday breakfast runs to McDonald's (remember their cheese danishes?!)
Fireworks - LOTS of fireworks
And sparklers by the dozens
Plastic pools in the yard
Dirt and mud, mud and dirt
Drinking ditch water (too lazy to go home ...)
Cartwheels down hills
Races on bikes or foot down the hill in front of the house
The scary shed where I feared I'd get trapped
Homemade ice cream
Sunburns and good ol' Aloe Vera to cool them down
Sugar-coated, dirty faces
Eating tomatoes straight out of the garden
Buttery corn on the cob
Hiding under Grandpa's plum trees and arbor
Dandelions and blowing them everywhere
Sleepovers (which I usually ended up coming home from ...)
Drinking soda pop
ROAD TRIPS!!! 
Bright Ideas summer school (not for the dumb kids)
Ant hills and beetle bugs
Swinging as high as possible
Monkey bars and slides
Tire swings attached to tree houses
Walking to and from Church
Leaving the back door open so a breeze came through the screen
The Mexicans that showed up at our house with Dad
Sitting on the front porch steps
Playing school
Going to the fairgrounds
Joining 4-H (that one year)
Selling lemonade and Kool-Aid (but drinking most of it)
Playing in Shauna's family camper
Jumping on trampolines
The incredibly moist heat at Dad's dry cleaning shop
Sweating and not caring
Sneaking up to watch The Johnny Carson Show with Dad
Band-aids and stitches

What sticks out the most is how completely happy I was to spend time with Mom, Dad, my siblings, cousins, grandparents, and friends. It seems like everything we did was lots of fun, filled with the best people, and never lasted long enough. And now that I'm an adult and work most of the summer, it seems like those "good times" don't quite last as long. It would be fun to savor those moments again each summer. But I have to admit it's also fun to see similar memories being made with my nieces and nephews and great-nieces and great-nephews. 

It's amazing the things you see through the eyes of a child .... 

Tortured With Pillows

Being the youngest of six children with the next closest in age being nearly eight years older means you're going to deal with some kind of abuse as you grow up. It's just a guarantee that your siblings will ask you to lie for them, make you keep secrets, and generally destroy your sense of security. I was no exception, although I think I've managed quite well in the aftermath. 

At the age of four, maybe five, my oldest sister put me in a pair of her jeans. She wanted to see how they "fit." Number one, when your older sister asks you to do that, don't. She doesn't really care how those jeans fit. Number two, be leery when she asks you to "step outside" in them so she "can get a better look." You're probably thinking I'm an idiot about now, but come on, give me some slack. I was only four or five, and I stupidly trusted her. 

But wait! Before we go outside, let's see what it would look like if these jeans really did fit you. Uh huh. Okay. Sure. 

And thus began my torture by pillows. She shoved pillows in those jeans until they were so tight on me there was no way they were coming off without Vaseline or butter. And then she wanted to go outside. Well, for Pete's sake, I couldn't walk! I wasn't a scrawny kid by any means, but this was well beyond what my legs could manage. 

Somehow, I ended up on the front lawn and SOMEHOW she ended up having a camera. It's like that camera magically appeared at awkward moments. How does that happen? Is there an "awkward moment radar" attached to those things? And to make matters worse, it was a Polaroid, so we had "proof" of the incident as it happened. 

I stood outside and posed for her crazy pictures in her stupid jeans packed like sardines with pillows, and I let her take those pictures. Why? Because I'm awesome. Even at four or five I was awesome. There's no disputing it. She laughed and laughed at me and had a grand ol' time at my expense. 

And then she left me. Some may have considered that a good thing, and I thought it was at first, too. Until I realized that there was no way in heck I could move in those pants stuffed with pillows. There was no way I could walk back to the house. There was no way, even if I made it to the house, to get up the stairs. And there was definitely no way if I got up the stairs that I could get those pants off without a serious intervention. 

So I stood there. On the front lawn. In those jeans stuffed with pillows. And watched cars go by. And I waved. And they honked. And someone (I don't even remember who) came to my rescue, took me in the house, helped me out of the pillow pants, and set me free. Free to plot revenge on my sister. Free to figure out a way to make her life miserable from that moment to the end of eternity. She'd be tortured, all right, but it was not going to be with pillows. 

Unfortunately, I'm not good at revenge. So the picture sits in my book of remembrance, and I'm reminded that things could have been a lot worse. At least she didn't set the pillows on fire, right? But I do wonder if that's why I sometimes feel like I have thunder thighs today. Those dang pillow pants gave me a complex! 

Sounds like I need to get back to plotting my revenge .... 

We Didn't Want To Be There

My mom's father, Karl Koyle, passed away the day after his birthday on September 22, 1999. He'd gone in voluntarily for bypass surgery on his heart, and he knew he would not come out of it. In fact, he told Mom on multiple occasions that he wasn't coming home from the hospital. It's strange to me how some people just know when their death is imminent. Grandpa wasn't really upset about it (he was prepared to meet his Maker), but he was worried about Grandma since she was so "forgetful" (a diagnosis of Alzheimer's was imminent). 

Grandma seemed so "normal" at the funeral. She knew exactly the right things to say to everyone. It was afterwards we realized how bad she was when she kept asking where Karl was and why he didn't come home. It nearly killed her kids to have to tell her over and over again that Karl was gone, he'd died, but he still loved her. One of my uncles, I think, came up with the idea to play the funeral tape for Grandma. They thought it would help her remember that there was a funeral. It didn't. She thought they were lying to her about where he was. And then she started to ask why they threw Karl in that hole in the ground. It was so mean to do that to him, and surely he'd be upset and could she just talk to him about it?

I moved in with Grandma for a few weeks after Grandpa died. It was probably in the top ten of most upsetting times of my life. I'd recently returned from college where my bedroom roommate was a schizophrenic that tried to slit her wrists with butter knives (she succeeded one night while doing the dishes and turned the dishrag so tightly in one of the glasses that it shattered and cut her wrists - that was a LONG night at the local hospital ER), walked around the apartment naked, and talked of Sammy Hagar and Eddie Van Halen because they "talked" to her in her sleep. That's a whole different story altogether, but I did awake one night to her standing over me with said butter knives saying that Sammy and Eddie had told her to "slay" me. It wasn't long after that she moved home. For obvious reasons. 

Anyway, Grandma wasn't scary like that, but those experiences were still fairly fresh, so when Grandma would stand over me in the mornings and stare at me until I woke up it was a little freaky. It actually got funny the more it happened. She'd be in her robe and stand there staring at me. Every time my eyes flew open and saw her there like that I "eeked" a little bit out loud. She'd always ask if it was time for toast yet. Toast with pineapple marmalade. It had to be the same breakfast every morning. 

The worst of it came at night. She would become increasingly paranoid during the day. The gas fireplace was suddenly going to burn the house down, people were watching us from outside the windows, and the people on TV somehow knew where we were and what we were doing. By bedtime, the paranoia had significantly increased. If the ceiling fan was on in the bedroom she was convinced that "little men" were going to get her in her sleep. One time I heard her moving around in the bedroom (mine was across the hall), so I went to check on her. As soon as I opened the door the phone came hurdling across the room with incredible speed and force. It was then I had to call her sister, Nadine, and see if she could help me calm Grandma down. It was difficult to see Grandma like that. I didn't last much longer as the live-in caregiver. 

Soon, Mom and her siblings started taking turns staying with Grandma. It was taxing on all of them since they had jobs and families of their own. Mom was in the throes of troubles with her vision at the time, and I remember feeling sick that I couldn't be the one tough enough to care for Grandma so Mom didn't have to. In the end, I think it was good for all of them to love and serve Grandma. She had become so childlike and dependent. Towards the end, my sister and her husband came and lived there with Grandma until she passed away. I know it was taxing for both of them as well. 

We tried to take Grandma on little Saturday outings. It was the norm that Grandma, her sisters, and Mom and I would pile in a car and take a jaunt out to lunch and go shopping. Grandma really enjoyed that time with all of us, but it wasn't long before she couldn't do that anymore. She would get turned around, frustrated, and paranoid about everything going on around her. She also thought she needed to get home to Karl, which about broke all of our hearts knowing he wasn't there. 

It finally got to the point that Grandma's kids realized a secure rest home was the best place for her to be. She'd already fallen and broken an arm on one of the jaunts with Mom and Nadine. While my sister was caring for her, she tripped up a couple of stairs and landed on her face. It bruised her up pretty good. Grandma was also visiting an adult daycare of sorts to give my sister some reprieve during the week. She managed to escape the facility and cross a huge and very busy street by herself. Grandma was later found in a Target store wandering around. It was the eventual deciding factor that we couldn't keep Grandma safe and still keep her in her home. 

Once she got in the rest home things seemed to go pretty well. Grandma made a friend that she could walk down the halls with. They carried their "babies" (dolls) with them everywhere they went and seemed to have a grand time together. Her arm was still healing (she was pretty frail) and her bruised face was starting to look somewhat better. In other words, it wasn't purple and black and blue anymore.  

It's now that I can't really remember the exact sequence of events, but Grandma took another fall and broke her nose really bad. I think that happened at the rest home. There were some other incidents, too, and Mom and I felt like the end was nearer than anyone wanted to admit. We were tired, worn out, frustrated, sad, and needed to get away. We decided to take a trip with Nadine and get out of dodge until the air had cleared a bit and we could see things from a different perspective. 

It was quiet in the car as Mom and I drove the few blocks to Nadine's house to pick her up. We'd decided on a trip to Nauvoo to see Church history sites. We knew it would be calm there, and it was a place where we could collect our thoughts and be renewed. I think we'd planned something like a 12 day trip to drive out there and see everything we possibly could. We left Dad with the express threat that we were not to be "called home" unless something was really, really wrong with Grandma. He obliged and let us go. It took a lot of bravery for him to let us go without a fight. 

When we pulled off from Nadine's house we were all giddy and excited. Those feelings quickly dissipated, and before we got out of town Mom spoke up and said, "We all know Mom (Grandma) will not be here when we get back. She will not make it another 12 days. If you're not okay leaving Utah knowing that than we should turn around and not go on this trip." There was a huge lump in my throat, but she'd vocalized exactly what I was already feeling. From the back seat of the car Nadine said, "Yep, we all know that and we're all fine with it. We don't want to be here when she dies anyway. We've said our goodbyes and she knows how much we love her. What other reason would there be to stay?" 

As sad as it was to continue on that road trip, it was also a relief to know I was in the car with two other strong, vibrant women that felt the same way I did. We knew Grandma's end was near, and we knew we wouldn't be there to witness it, but you know what? It was okay because we didn't want to be there. We wanted to remember Grandma as the kind, funny, quirky, silly, gentle, generous soul she had been all her life. We were tired of seeing her not recognize people or know the names of her children and grandchildren, wonder where Karl was, and try to figure out what was going on around her. That was not her, and we knew it. Why say goodbye to her in that state when it would simply be for our benefit? Grandma wouldn't know the difference, and as it was, we'd already said our goodbyes to the woman we knew and loved. She had been leaving or gone for years now anyway. 

I'm not even sure what sites we saw on the way to Nauvoo, but I do remember that we checked into a hotel one night, July 25, around 5:00 p.m. We'd been in touch with Dad regularly and knew the status on Grandma. He was quite open with us about developments and things that had been going on at the rest home and with the family. Often, we would tell him we'd heard enough to know what we needed to know. He was so kind and gentle in the way he told us everything, and he obliged when we asked him to talk about something else. It was just as hard for Dad as it was for any of us. He loved Grandpa and Grandma like his own parents. He loved them deeply. 

That night over the phone at the hotel Dad said, "I think you should start home. Things are not good here. She's not doing well. They've brought her home from the rest home, and she's not responding to anyone or anything." She'd taken another fall, and from what I remember, she'd broken a rib and had come down with pneumonia, which there would be no recovering from in her already weakened state. I can still see the look of gloom on Mom's face. Nadine had been in the bathroom while Mom made the regular check-in call to Dad. As soon as Nadine came out of the bathroom Mom told her the situation. We all three sat in silence on the beds in the hotel and just stared at the floor or at each other. It was like time stopped as we pondered about what to do. We would each throw out our thoughts and then sit quietly as we stewed over what to do. Mom talked with Dad again by phone, and again he urged us to come home. 

Finally, Mom said, "We know we won't make it home in time to say goodbye, but I think we should turn around, go home, and forget our vacation plans. They will need help planning the funeral, and we ought to be there to support those who will have a hard time with her passing." Nadine and I nodded, grabbed our stuff, and checked out of the hotel. 

Mom couldn't drive at night because of her vision problems, so she opted for the first driving "shift" while I climbed in the back of the car and tried to sleep. We still had the car set on Utah time, and it was about 4-5 minutes fast. It's one of those small details you don't forget. We had piled in the car around 7:00, stopped for a bite of fast food dinner, and then intended to drive straight through until we got home. 

I couldn't sleep. It just wouldn't come. I was weary and worn out - emotionally and physically. You'd think the exhaustion would have shut my eyes so deeply that a bull horn couldn't have shaken me. It wasn't so. My thoughts were rumbling around in my head making no sense and drawing no conclusions. It was 10 short months ago that we had buried Grandpa, and now here we were again working on funeral arrangements and putting Grandma in the ground beside him. It was where she wanted to be. I was relieved for her, sad for us, and plain mad that life had to be so unfair to someone as good as my Grandma. 

I looked at the (too fast) clock and it said 8:08. I closed my eyes again and this time silently prayed my heart out. It went something like this (only longer): "Heavenly Father," I said, "we know that Grandma has been in a lot of pain. We know she can't remember us. We know she has missed Grandpa since the minute he arrived in Your care. She is not the same person she was because of the disease that has ravaged her mind. We don't need to be there in order for her to come home to You. The others might need to be there, but we don't. We are okay if she is ready to come home to You without us saying a formal goodbye. She knows how much we love her and how much we will miss her. Please don't allow her to suffer longer than necessary or to hang on until we get there. We don't need to be there and we don't want to be there as she leaves this mortal life. Please help her know it's okay that she leaves without us being there to say goodbye." 

When I opened my eyes from the prayer the clock said 8:12. I watched it change to 8:13, then closed my eyes again, and with moisture slowly filling them, I fell asleep. A couple of hours later, Mom woke me and said she couldn't drive any longer. It was dark outside, and she couldn't see well enough to drive. I knew she was exhausted in every way possible, so we situated the back seat in order for her to be comfortable, and I drove the rest of the way home with Nadine in the front seat. It was another 19 1/2 very long hours. We arrived home the next evening (July 26) a little after 5 p.m. 

It was strange - that whole experience. Every time we stopped for gas we would see a highway patrolman. We thought it was a little odd, but didn't think much of it. Honestly, we were happy to see so many of them on the roads because it made us feel safe. Someone later mentioned that maybe Dad had called the highway patrol to let them know the circumstances and ask that we not be pulled over if we were caught speeding. We didn't speed, and I never did confirm with Dad whether or not he had done that. I was able to stay awake and alert the entire time I drove, even though I don't really remember much of the drive. Nadine stayed awake and talked to me much of the time. 

It was bitter sweet as we pulled into the driveway at home. We'd had so much fun together laughing, eating, talking, reminiscing, and getting away from everything and everyone. We were so glad for the time we had together, and yet we were also glad in some ways to be home. We found out later Grandma had died at almost exactly 8:12. A sense of relief and a feeling of peace entered my heart as I realized that was the exact time I had ended my prayer giving "permission" for Heavenly Father to allow Grandma to come home and be reunited with Grandpa. I still believe Grandma was privy to that prayer and was grateful to be released instead of being asked to hang on until we got there. 

I remember that a lot of the family was upset with Dad. It didn't make sense to me. Mom finally explained that nobody believed him when he told them he was constantly in touch with us and letting us know what was happening. They thought he should have pushed us to come home sooner. They thought we should have been there when Grandma died. After all, the whole family was there when she passed. I remember thinking, "Isn't having the whole family there enough? Why did we need to be there, too?" 

Dad told us the basics about what happened after they brought Grandma home. We were more than glad we weren't there. I remember feeling sorry that everyone thought Dad had done something wrong. We even tried to reassure people that Dad had done exactly as we had asked. They wouldn't listen, and feelings of anger stuck around for a while. It was like we had turned our backs on the entire family by not being there. In reality, it was such a peaceful experience for the three of us, and even to this day none of us would trade the way things happened. It just goes to show we all see things from our own perspective. And I hope Dad knows how much we appreciate him for doing exactly as we asked. It wasn't easy!

In the end, I realize what a blessing that little "vacation" was with Mom and Nadine. It helped me understand that life goes on even when hard things have happened or continue to happen. I'm still convinced that Grandma heard my prayers and realized we were okay with her leaving when she did. We still don't regret a minute of taking that "time out" from life, and in reality, it probably saved each of our sanity. I hope someday that others will understand our intentions were pure and not selfish. We didn't plan for things to happen the way they did, but we were definitely okay with the way things ended. And I'm certain that Grandma was happy to see her Karl again and be reunited with loved ones. She had many more people waiting on the other side of the veil than she did watching at her bedside as she passed. What a blessing to know that, and to know we will see her again.