History is my favorite subject, I think. I love fitting the pieces together. I also love how it takes just a bit of faith to accept any history, as most of it is skewed biases. But I came accross these stories the other day and they both intrigued me. I thought I’d share:



Noah’s Ark Discovered — again.

They found a huge boat in the mountains, buried, but with animal bones found inside. It’s a pretty geeky history read if you’re interested.[/left]

Book of Mormon and DNA Studies.

This article talks about no matter how much people think they know by DNA, they can’t get conclusive results. It also is just kind of cool to hear the church’s perspective on what they think happened in the Americas, because I think we’d all just assume that the peoples of Lehi were the only one.  [/right]

Aren’t these just fascinating? Okay, I’m probably the only one to read them, but I think they’re pretty cool. I love making sense of what I know and what I KNOW. And how history is one story told many different ways.

Beauty During Sorrow

While I was up visiting for the funeral, Mom asked me to help her with a project. Before she died, My grandmother gave my mom a task and a bag of old jewelry. She asked mom to put the jewelry on mirrors, because my mom etched mirrors for all of her nieces and nephews when they got married. She wanted her granddaughters to look in the mirror, see a piece of her, and think of Grandma telling them how much she loved them.



Ranger and I ran to the store later that day, and they had a cool snow-sculpture community event out front of the senior center (That my grandma helped get there). We took a few minutes just to walk around and enjoy something beautiful. It was refreshing.



Who’s Kid is She, Anyway?

While we’ve been talking about my grandmother and grandfather, and how Grandpa’s my guardian angel, the other day, my daughter asked me what my grandpa looked like. I told her I had a picture of him from when I was born and he came to visit. So we pulled out the scrapbooks and took a look. Naturally, you can’t just look at one picture. I showed her pictures of my Christmases, pictures from school, and silly pictures from my childhood. She giggled, and said, “Mom, you look JUST LIKE ME!” So we pulled out her scrapbook and compared.

Our discovery was just too funny not to share, even though it makes me nervous, so embrace this singular glimpse of my daughter

update: Yeah… after seeing the last superbowl, I shoulda picked a different pic…

I was laughing with her that her mouth was always open in pics (blaming the fact that she had both asthma and huge tonsils), until I saw that I was just as bad. I didn’t have asthma (that I know of), but I also got the huge tonsil trend, and they didn’t last long inside my body.


Can’t tell I’m her mamma at all, can you? I don’t think we look TOO much alike, but there are definite similarities.

It’s even funnier to note that she thought that pics of her grandmother were really pics of me! Guess my family’s got some crazy genes! The funny thing is, I looked a whole lot more like my dad when I was little.


One Life

[warning]This post is kind of scattered, because my thoughts are raw. Also, this post involves death, which might be a trigger.[/warning]

UntitledWritten at about 6: I just got word that my grandma might not survive the weekend. Probably not even until tomorrow night.

It’s silly that I’ve known that this could be coming for more than a month, now, and have felt absolutely no sorrow for it; she’s lived an amazing life, and she gets to be with her husband and daughter again. Her only daughter. And now, in her last hours, I’m so sad! Suddenly, I’m not thinking about how SHE feels about this, I’m suddenly realizing I have feelings, too!

This is the woman who held my hand through the delivery of my daughter. This is the woman who helped me out of so many scrapes, especially when everything hit the fan. She loved me and always had my back.  I guess, up until now, I’ve just been happy for her chance to move on to “the next great adventure.” When I went to visit her a few weeks ago, we talked about life. We talked about everything she was going to have to go through. She told me she wasn’t afraid of the other side, she was just afraid about how long it would take to get there.

I look back on the day my daughter was born differently, now. At the time, I called her because my ex was an hour and a half away and didn’t want to leave his meeting (at the time, I thought he couldn’t leave it. But my perspective has changed since then. No boss would expect a man to miss the birth of a child. Not in Small-town, Snowbank where we used to live). Grandma had told me that if I needed anything, all I had to do was call. Well, when it looked like I was about to have my very first baby all by myself, I called! It was a little awkward having your grandma there. But now… now I’m so glad I did. All of her other grandkids talk about all she did for them. But she never did that for any of them. Just me. Years later, she told me how much it meant for her to be there. She only had one daughter, as I said. She told me at that moment, I became her daughter, too. And she got to hold her daughter all over again, and help her daughter through life, all over again. Her daughter made a lot of hard choices in her life, picking men about like I picked them; some really dangerous and oppressive, and one really, really great guy. Grandma never judged me for my past, just helped me pick up the pieces. She never called my ex names, but helped me through all the problems he left me, even though he caused problems for her, too. Really expensive problems. She’s my hero.

Written at about 10: When I told my daughter about Grandma, she took it really hard. At bedtime, she prayed the sweetest, most inspired prayer. “And please bless Grandma, and let her have fun with Adella. And help her be happy up there. And help us be happy down here. ” It was said just about the time my grandmother actually slipped to the other side. Adella is my sister’s angel baby, she lost last spring.

Help us be happy down here…


I have been reading the Old Testament for about 4 years. I’m still in Kings. I’ve changed the direction of the goal, though. Instead of reading to a specific point each day, thereby getting exhausted, and not reading for a few days afterwards, I am just going to read every day. Get as far as I get, and embrace the change. I know, sort of a no-brainer solution, huh? That’s what I get for looking so close to the problem.

I do have to say, up until the last few chapters of 2 Kings, I was determined that I would never read through the books of Kings again! So depressing and dry. I’ll take Leviticus any day. And then I come across a humble king in all the history of Kings named Hezekiah. He’s my hero. He saves the whole book for me. Here’s a guy, knowing all is lost, and still fighting for restoring faith to his people. He already knows Judah is going to face the same fate as Israel in a few short years, and yet he gives it all he’s got to save the people. Isaiah even says that it’s too late, that their fate has already been sealed. But that doesn’t stop Hezekiah from going to and doing the work. If you need a hero that fights for lost causes, he’s it. Then, he’s informed by Isaiah of his imminent death, pleads with God for more time, and is granted 15 more years. He’s also granted the opportunity to die before he sees the cause be utterly lost.



A friend invited us to go sledding a few days after Christmas. It was an absolute blast! The hill wasn’t too steep, and the snow was just right so that all the kids had a fun and safe time. Us mommies even went down a few times.

I love talking to the mom. She’s so insightful. I am absolutely fascinated that her 4-year-olds haven’t seen the inside of a doctor’s office/hospital since the first car-ride of their lives. It also intrigues me that she still has them in one, if she never takes them in. But I also like her thought processes. She’s a superhero. Charitable, and just genuinely good. It’s so funny, because when she first moved into the neighborhood, I avoided her. She looked just like a certain ex-best-friend. I was sure they had to be related. And her girls looked just like another little girl I knew. And then the Lord had other plans for me, and He called her as my [lightbox title=”“Visiting teaching is arranged through the Relief society in our church, and allows for each woman to have the responsibility to care for another woman in her ward, as well as knowing there is someone she can call if she needs a little extra support.” width=”900″ height=”500″] visiting teacher[/lightbox]. Right as my bestie moved away. And as if I couldn’t catch the hint, He also called her husband as our home teacher.

I guess the Lord knows how hard it is to let people into my life. I see so many good people, and I miss chances with them regularly. There are lots of people I look up to, and secretly wish I could just call and hang out with, but I never step up, – never call. I know why I am that way, and it’s pretty clear to me why I’m so afraid; eventually, it’ll be easier for me to be close to people.Until then, the Lord will just have to keep setting up friends for me. I do think it’s interesting, though, that the Lord picked a “look-alike” for my next lesson in how to make friends.


Language is Dead

Personal pet peeve: “New Years.”

Absolutely drives me nuts.

it is either New Year’s (followed by Day, or Eve), or New Year.

I only get one year at a time, not many.

And if you and I are sharing the same year, it’s still just one year.

New Year.

Not New Years.

Facebook about killed me this NEW YEAR.

Never look to Facebook for guidance in grammar. It just doesn’t happen.

A New Year

Happy New year, everyone!

I had an amazing New Year’s Eve party. It consisted of the whopping crowd of 2. It was actually supposed to be a crowd of 1, but Ranger surprised me.


New Year’s Eve is actually quite special to us. We got engaged on New Year’s Eve, three whole splendid years ago. Come to find out, it would have been Christmas, but I made a comment about how a ring as a Christmas present was tacky, and he had to think outside the box a little harder… oops! Especially, since I had been quite clear that that’s what I wanted in a blog post many of you will probably remember (It’s no longer there, if you were wondering).


we camped out in our front room this New year, brought up a TV to watch Fantastic Four (it’s what I wanted. We made it a marathon), and reminisced about all that has happened in 3 years and all that we hope the future holds for us. We had other places we could have gone, but I’m completely comfortable just being alone. In fact, I crave it sometimes.


Actually having a husband home wasn’t the only surprise he gave me. I got another ring, too. It was sweet. He kept hinting that I would get one for Christmas, and then he got me a necklace. It’s 3 years ago all over again! Except this time I didn’t say it was tacky, and actually asked if we could afford it. My fingers have gotten smaller over this past year (I lost my other one in the Christmas tree for a few months until I decided to open that box in hopes of finding it), and my ring was not staying on! Since I don’t want to get my old one resized, and then needing a bigger size when I am actually able to keep some meat on my bones (what a problem to have, huh?), I just asked for a new one. He brought it in, all cute, and brought flashbacks of the nervous kid sitting across from me three years ago. It’s amazing how much things can change all the while nothing does!

Me 3 years ago. I swear it’s not all about me on this blog, but Ranger’s not too keen on his pics being on the internet.

Morbid Nativity

So I made a nativity for my mom this Christmas (she’s only been begging me to for about seven years), and one of the wise man’s hands just wont stay on. The problem with red clay is that it bleeds. So I am left with this…


until I can finish the whole project and stick wires in right before baking. Poor wise man. Just thought it too funny not to share.

(note, it’s not done yet. I’m that on top of it…)



I usually make just about all of Christmas. This is the first year we’ve been fairly commercial about it. And honestly, though it was nice to sort of “catch up to the Joneses,” it made Christmas a little… artificial. Don’t get me wrong, we got lots of  cool stuff. And I do enjoy the stuff. But I will do better at being sane enough next Christmas to make a bit more.

We almost thought we’d have to spend Christmas in a hotel room this year because Ranger had to go on a business trip, but last minute, he was able to get off. It meant I had almost everything wrapped, but there were a few last minute items to wrap. Poor Ranger kept falling asleep while trying to wrap what little I had left, so it’s a good thing we were mostly covered.


Christmas morning came, nice and early (just kidding. My kid always sleeps until 9, if I let her. Quite refreshing, actually).

Socks are never actually “hung” at our house. My family always over-loaded them, so the couch always seems to work better.


Mommy’s pretty excited about the new brush. I’m hoping it means she’ll stop stealing mine.


We went and saw Ranger’s family last night, in order to see Ranger’s brother, who was heading back out of town. Ranger’s Dad(‘s girlfriend…) gave her an 18″ doll. It came with an extra outfit, including an orange polka-dotty sock. She got the bright idea that Bella needed a sock out for Christmas, too.  As I already said, I had most of the gifts already wrapped, so Santa and I had to do a little negotiating to find something to stick in the sock. It’s full of soccer accessories. Totally works, in my opinion. Nothing like keeping the magic alive.


Is it super lame that I’m actually excited about the spatulas in my sock? Grownup life. Gotta love it.

Every year (starting last year… WooOoo, long tradition, I know), we get some kind of glow sticks. last year, on a whim, I got one for Ranger, and one for my Little Miss in the shape of sword and princess-wand, respectively. They played with those silly things all morning, having “sword fights.” I absolutely melted over the bonding time. So this year, I decided it was a tradition. But we got flying disks, instead. It didn’t work out as well, though, because I lost a piece somewhere in the couch. Somewhere.


Ranger’s sock is  backwards. Shows how tired I was. Normally I’m pretty OCD about that sort of thing.

My family of origin didn’t wrap anything in socks. Ranger’s family wrapped everything. So we compromised. I couldn’t handle wrapping toothbrushes, though; that’s just not something fun to unwrap. Ranger’s family never got hygiene products in their sock. That’s pretty much all ours ever was. It’s kind of fun blending different traditions and making them your own. It does make for much more wrapping, though.


Ranger likes his **extremely heavy (broke a fingernail way past the quick trying to lift it. I’m just glad it wasn’t a finger. Seriously. This box weighed a TON)** Christmas present.


Don’t I look cute and oh-so-awake on Christmas morning? I know you’re all so jealous.

Anyway, how was everyone else’s Christmas? Hope it went well. The rest of our day was spent hopping from one family gathering to another. That’s also something that will probably change next year. Live and learn.