I've been asking

myself the last few days, as I've switched from decorating the house and creating our Christmas newsletter, Why am I doing this? 

The decorations this year have actually been fun and easy.  Believe it or not, I've really simplified.  I've been telling my self, "Just because you have this decoration, it doesn't mean you have to use it every year."  Quite liberating, actually.  I remember last year, when the whole family was here,  that everything was way too cluttered.  So my goal this year is to have nothing sitting on the floor and to make sure it is all functional.  I'm doing pretty well so far.

It's the newsletter that is driving me nuts.  Twice I've gotten corrupted files and had to start over.  Will someone please remind me to be savvy at photo shop by this time next year?  It would simplify things a lot.  As to the question, "Why am I doing this?"  I can't decide.  Is it ego and pride?  Is it a desire to reach out to friends and family?   Because it's tradition?  It is probably a combination of all.   

Anyway, I'm actually running off the newsletter, so it's too late now to fuss with it any more. 

In the meantime . . . the part of the house I have been most excited about is this:

I just need to make labels for the jars.

If you live nearby, please drop in to our 

"Grandma and Granpa Country Store" 

I'll give you free tokens that you can redeem

for a treat of your choice.

Thanksgiving

I'm wondering if I'm actually up before my sister, Charlene, this morning!  I can tell I'm excited about the holiday preparations, because I normally never wake up at this early hour (4:30)

We've had a wonderful Thanksgiving holiday.  In the newspaper, there have been several articles about the importance of gratitude on your physical and emotional health.  I agree.  Anytime there are obstacles in life that seem overwhelming, counting your blessings gives you a new perspective.  I have so much to be grateful for, that I don't even know where to start.   I want to make more of my blog posts "gratitude journal entries."   One thing I'm grateful for is the family I was born into.  I have wonderful memories of feeling loved and secure. 

My niece, Leslie, called me on Wednesday night and asked if I wanted to go through Mom and Dad's house with them the next morning.  We sold that house after Mom and Dad died, and I haven't been in it since (1995).   To give a little background on how we had permission to go through the house:  A few years back, Gary and Lynn were sitting next to a women at a BYU symposium.  As they talked, they realized that she was from their daughter, Leslie's, ward in California.  The woman said she had bought a home up here and lived in it part of the year.    She said it was on Cedar Avenue in Provo.  Gary and Lynn were, of course, familiar with Cedar Avenue, so they asked her what the address was.  They were pretty amazed when she told them it was 1012 Cedar Avenue (our family home from 1962 to 1995).  Small world, isn't it.
So Leslie had gone up to see the house and their friends had said we could come through. Gary and Lynn, along with Leslie and Cory were there. It was very nostalgic. Cory had a video camera going almost the whole time, and we were all sharing memories from the house.







Front of Home

Back of Home

Front room fireplace next to built in shelves and cupboards. Mom and Dad kept our high school senior pictures on that shelf.

Gary, Lynn, Me, Gary

Gary, Lynn Leslie, Cory

Living Room

Mom and Dad's room.  Mom was always sitting in her chair by the window. 
She would crochet, embroidery, and talk on the phone for hours there. 
When anyone visited, they would sit in the chair to the right of it.

Back bedroom that became a TV room once I got married.

Gary and I showed the front door and window that I would stand at while I waited for him to come by. I would stand there and wait for him to pull in to the cul-de-sac right across from the house and give me "the signal" (flashing his car lights right at the house and turning them on and off). If I was home and he could come in, I would flash the porch lights on and off. I usually stood there a long time, as he was usually late!

Front hallway door

Hours spent looking through door window
waiting for "signal" from Gary

Really, the only area that is not recognizable is the basement.  They've totally remodeled the basement.  It now has halls dividing it into 3 bedrooms that is shared with the basement rental area.  The washer and dryer are in the old storage room.  Dad's workshop is a bedroom.   The basement is really not recognizable.


It was fun to reminisce with everyone and remember those good times.  What good times to you remember at Mom and Dad's house?

I've been

searching my computer for my picture files.  When my computer crashed back in July, I thought that with the external hard drive I was using that I could just pull everything up with a click.  Not so.  I guess it was not configured that way.  Anyway, it is frustrating, to say the least. 

I'm been searching for 2011 pictures that I can use for our Christmas letter.  I'm not having a lot of luck.  So, I came to this blog to see what pictures I've posted that I could use.   I got pleasantly side-tracked with the pictures from last Christmas. 

As I looked at them, my heart filled with love, and I was reminded of the joy I feel when family is together.  Not that I need reminding.  It's just that I don't dwell on the missing them, or I would feel constant sadness at the distance between us.   I'm just so grateful that we are able to see them as much as we do.  Needless to say, I'm getting very excited for Christmas.  The Idiarts are coming a few days before Christmas and the Bishops will be here a couple of days after.   Our house bursts at the seams when 13 extra bodies come to sleep, and my heart does too. 

I can't wait!

It's been a good

day.

We started out by going to the temple.  Then we went to Maglebys for breakfast (buttermilk syrup, YEAH).  Then we came home and I worked on organizing "the deep" for almost 4 hours (yes, I was organizing it again). 

As I was doing that, I thought a lot about Dad.  When we moved into this house, the 4th level was unfinished.  Dad custom built all the shelving in the part that is storage area (aka "The Deep"). Then he custom built the table that runs down the middle of it.  He made drawers and shelves and large slots for poster boards underneath the table.   He also created a pull down bar that holds wrapping paper and ribbons.  If you could imagine it, Dad could create it.

I guess I go into these details, because it helps explain Dad's personality.  He wasn't a big talker -- he let Mom do that.  But he listened.  And, as he listened, you could almost see the wheels turning in his head.  The wheels would turn as he thought about ways he could "custom" fulfill your desires and needs.   My home is full of reminders of that.

Anyway, once I had the space all cleared and everything put away, it was pure joy wrapping the wedding gift for the reception we went to tonight.  Sometimes I get so accustomed to the many blessings I have surrounding me, that I forget to appreciate them.  
 

Finishing . . .

more and more unfinished projects.  Some that have been unfinished for a long time.  Like "Table Topics" games for the girls.  Glass tile necklaces for gifts.   Packaging and for the key fobs.  It feels good to get them done, but I'm too tired to take pictures tonight.    

Still on the list:  Aprons and more aprons.  Christmas place mats.  Christmas pillow cases for my last 3 grandchildren.  Tags for the Christmas scarves we've cut out for Relief Society (160 of them).   Family Christmas Letter, etc. etc. etc.

I  think I'm through thinking about it tonight.   
  

Well, it looks like the vote

is unanimous that it is not Grandma.  Thanks for your votes.  I agree with all of them, but agree with Misty that if she were wearing a mu-mu it would be a no brainer!

Speaking of pictures, Tiffany is putting together some project that she needs pictures of our family when all the kids were home.   Then she needed pictures of my family before everyone left home.  We didn't take pictures back in ancient days like they do now.  I was able to find a few where either Richard or Gary were missing because they were on their missions.  I found one with all of us, but it had been in a magnetic album and was torn.  Finally I found this one.  It was after Gary and Lynn were married, but we're all together. 

L to R, Dad, Mom, Richard behind, Tom next to Richard, Lynn, Gary,

Front L, Me and next to me holding Lynn's hand, Charlene.

Those were happy times.

I wish I could get out of Tiffany what she's doing with all these pictures,

but she's being very secretive.

Is this

my Mom, Charlet Hall Anderson,

or not? 

 Yes ____

No ____

What is your vote?

I got a call from my cousin, Stanley, yesterday morning.   I was sure someone had died and that he was calling to give me the news.  He mentioned that he didn't think he had ever called me on the phone before, but wondered if I had seen a picture of Mom that is in the mall.  He said that Nancy, his wife, had seen it in the Forever XXI store and had taken him to see it.  They were sure it had to be Mom.  He explained that it is a picture of people riding bicycles in some kind of parade and that it is a continuous and repeating mural.  He described where to go in the store to see it.

So, Gary and I went out.  I spotted her (or her double) in a second.   It seemed surreal. 

Here is a wider view.

 and a wider view,

 and an even wider view (far left).

All logic tells me that it isn't Mom.  First of all, I can't imagine her riding a bike in a parade.  But, I could be wrong.  Stanley said he wondered if the picture might be from the archives of Springville City. 

I would judge the woman in the mural to be somewhere in her 40's.  Just as a point of reference, here is a closeup of Mom from my wedding, when she was 58.  (Now that seems surreal, too, since I'll be 58 in another month.)   

Let's just say, if someone had given me a copy of the picture shown in the mural, I would have picked Mom out right away.  But, in this setting, I'm not so sure.  That's why I'm putting out a call to all people who knew Mom.  Is it or isn't it her?   What do you think?

(Either way, it's pretty amazing)  



We took a break

from Park City yesterday, to attend the Timpview Semi-Final Football game.  Because Gary does the stats, we got to sit in the U of U press box.  It is quite an impressive view. 

Unfortunately, Timpview lost the game.  But it was definitely positive thing to make it that far.  After the game, we went to dinner in Salt Lake and then headed back up to Park City.  We got home this afternoon. 

It has been a summer and fall filled with lots of little trips, but I think we're home for a long haul now.  Being the homebody I am, I'm actually happy about that.

I'm sitting

in a beautiful condo in Park City. Gary is at a conference.  I brought with me a bag full of articles I've clipped out of  newspapers or magazines.  When something I read inspires me, I want to remember it, so I clip them out for future use.  Unfortunately, that is about as far as it goes.  So while I'm sitting here, I'm finding the articles online so I can have them easily accessible. 

One I've come across, is an article from the Deseret News newspaper.  Here is a link:  It's Not the Play-dough that I love

The author is telling about how she really doesn't enjoy play-dough, even though her son wants her to play with it with him.  To quote from the article:

  "I've always assumed that "other moms" love the sometimes-mundane intricacies of motherhood – chasing toddlers across the swing-y bridge at the park, listening to every single detail about the latest episode of "Phineas and Ferb," spending three hours looking through racks of colorful T-shirts while preteens deliberate what will look best to their school friends – but as I watched Spencer's sheer delight at smashing the reds, yellows, and blues into every shade of the spectrum, I came to understand that naturally loving the details is irrelevant. It's the feelings about our children that matter. 

When I read it, the part I've underlined truly touched upon my feelings as a grandmother.  At the time, Tiffany and the kids were visiting, and Ashton was very into Pokemon cards.  He wanted someplace to store them, so we gathered some plastic baseball-card sleeves that I had sitting around (from a long ago project), and we put them in a binder.   We looked through that book many times and  I heard a lot about Pokemon cards and who is the most powerful, etc.  I think most of it went in one ear and out the other, but the memory of sitting and watching his face and hearing him tell me about them will stay forever.

The following Sunday, there was a lesson on showing love in a family.  When asked what some of the most important ways to show love in a family are, this article came to mind.  I thought to myself, "I don't love Pokemon cards, but I love Ashton, so I want to spend time hearing about them from him."

Really, the best thing we can give someone and show them our love, is to give them our time, attention, and listening ear.  I often forget that when I'm so involved in the minutia of every day life.   Sometimes it takes more mental or physical energy than I want to give.  But this article is a wonderful reminder of where we should place our priorities.

I'm really enjoying

the Pinterest site (thanks Sharilyn!).  They say "a picture's worth a thousand words," and it truly is for me.  I have bookmarked so many recipe and craft sites, but just looking at the title of the bookmark doesn't really tell me what is there.  With Pinterest you actually see the pictures of what you've saved.  Because the things I've "pinned" are so easily identified with the picture, I've used these three different ideas during the last week.

This one:
 

this one:



and this one:

:

You create your own "Boards" or categories, and pin those things that interest you to them.  You can follow your friends or just people who have the same interests as you do.  I can tell Tiffany is my daughter, because I usually want to repin to my boards most of the things she pins to hers. 

If this is making no sense, just let me know, and I'll send you an invite.

I'm so glad

we did the yard clean-up on Thursday.  It feels so good to "put the garden to bed." 

 I loved finding the evidence, hiding in the bushes,

 of the grand children's visit this summer.

I also found further evidence that our neighbor's

chicken had been in our yard.

Either that, or I'm miraculously growing eggs.

I'm especially grateful we got it done last week, because on Saturday I fell in a parking lot when I tripped on a speed bump.  It was one of those really dumb moments that go in slow motion.  My left knee took the brunt of it, and it has been really painful since.  I wasn't about to let the fall stop me from visiting Richard, but I stayed home from church yesterday and stayed off of it and iced it all day.  Gary came home from church and cleaned up for me, and when Natalie came she cooked eggs and made a yogurt parfait.  I don't like being down, but they were very sweet to me.



I've spent two days babying it, but now I'm going to put it to the test by using it.   I've promised Gary that if it still hurts in a couple of days, that I'll go to a Dr.  I just really don't want it to be an injury, so I'm thinking positively.

I got a call from

my sister-in-law, Laraine, on Friday morning.  She left a message, and I was very grateful that she began it with, "Richard is OK."   Because then she said, "But he had a heart attack last night."   When I heard it, my heart sank, but the fact that she said he was OK help soften the blow. 

Nine years ago he had a clogged artery and had an angioplasty and heart stint put in.  When he started having chest pains at about 9 pm on Thursday night, he kept thinking they would stop.  He didn't wake Laraine until he had been having them for about four hours.  By the time the paramedics arrived, they said that one a scale of 1 to 10, that he was at about a 9 as far as seriousness was concerned.  His blood pressure was 60 over 33.  Once at the hospital, they discovered that the same artery had become completely clogged again, so they repeated the same procedure.  They also discovered another artery that is 80% blocked, which they will repair in 6 to 8 weeks.

Procedures have changed dramatically since Dad had his bypass surgeries.    He had his first heart surgery in his late fifties and another ten years later.  At that point in time (in the 70's), they opened the chest and pulled the heart out to repair it.  Recovery was difficult and painful.   Dad also got hepatitis from a blood transfusion he got during that time.

We were amazed when we went up to visit Richard at the hospital this afternoon,  We knocked on the door, and he was the one who walked over and opened it.  It was amazing how well he looked and acted.  He is feeling great because, as bad as he was, once the blood flow was opened everything started to function normally. 

He could have suffered some serious heart damage because he waited so long to get to the hospital, but thankfully he did not.  They said that there is a four hour window of time from when a heart attack starts before permanent damage can occur, and his was longer than four hours.  He's gotten a good chastisement from all of us about waiting so long to alert Laraine. 

Richard has been on my mind a lot this last week, and I've thought about calling him.  This whole experience has been a  reminder to me to follow those promptings and not put things off when I get those nudgings.  I feel very grateful that he is doing well.

Here we are partying in the hospital.

Richard is on the far right next to Gary, Lynn, Kylee, and me.
Laraine is in front.

 Here is Gary being funny and pointing to the big fabric flower that came off my purse.  It really wasn't up that high, but when the nurse opened the door to come in, she stopped, looked puzzled, and pulled the fabric flower off the door frame.  It wasn't the first time that my flowers, that are held onto my purse with magnets, have migrated to a stronger magnetic force than are holding it onto the purse  (which the door frame obviously is).  Gary is mystified as to what motivates me to keep doing such things. 

My brother,

Gary, has been wanting to get together with Kay and Maisel, our cousins that live down the street from me.  Our fathers, Golden and Arch, were brothers.  Since I was feeling a little more free and easy (with our RS activity from last night over with), I called them up and arranged it.  It is always fun to get together with them. 

The conversation turned to attitudes about speaking your mind, being yourself, and not worrying about what other's think.  Kay said her Mom, Aunt Melba, drilled into her mind the phrase, "You're as good as any and better than most."   I think I've heard a similar phrase before, but hearing it in this context was very interesting to me.  Basically it's saying, "Don't let anybody put you down."

It reminded me of a comment I heard "Jimmer" Fredette give this last mother's day.  He was being interviewed and was basically asked how his mom raised him to be such a nice guy.  His response was something to the effect that she would tell him, "You're not that special."    That seems to come out as being negative, but he was complimenting her for keeping him grounded.  She was basically saying, You're good, but don't think you're any better than others because of it."

Those two phrases, while they seem to be espousing opposite points of view, go hand in hand to me.  They emphasize the two extremes of emotions that we as humans tend to feel -- inadequacy and superiority.  I know I'm guilty of both sometimes.  Once we start comparing our thoughts, accomplishments, weaknesses, and strengths with others, it is easy to make judgments. 

So, when I'm feeling inadequate, I'll say to myself, "You're as good as any and better than most."  When I'm feeling like I've done something better than someone else, I'll say to myself, "You're not that special."