Farewell to a Dear Friend

Max Factor Cosmetics is no longer sold in stores or online in the United States.
It's Dead! It is a tragic day for me. I have been searching far and wide for my dear friend 2000 Calorie Rich Back Mascara, but it was no where to be found. I investigated further and found out that Max Factor was not popular enough here in the United States and is no longer being sold. Proctor and Gamble, who owned Max Factor, also own Cover Girl and are now focusing their efforts on that product line. BOO I say. I DO NOT LIKE COVER GIRL. I love my Max Factor. I have been wearing this mascara since High School, which is when I first started wearing make-up in the first place. Oh how sad my heart is.

Good Bye beautiful plump and thick lashes

Good Bye lovely black bottle and costs on $7.00 at Wal-Mart

Good Bye, Good Bye, Good Bye, old friend

You Will Be MISSED.

P.S. I don't know what mascara to use now. I am lost and alone. I need someone to help me. Any great suggestions?

Remember . . .

When I could sleep on my back and my belly

When I could sleep for longer than an hour without having to get up to use the ladies room

When I could sleep without generous pain in my hips, legs, and abs

When I would walk normal without looking like an old lady with a walker

When I could run several miles

When I could fit into my running shoes

When I could fit into any of my clothes

When I could wear my wedding ring

When I could shave my legs without straining and breathing hard

When I didn't look at myself in a full length mirror and think "is that me?"

When I had the desire to do other things besides sleep

When I was didn't cry at everything I saw on TV and heard on the radio, or at church, or from my husbands mouth

When I could sit through three hours of church and not look at the clock every 10 minutes

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When I couldn't look at a pregnant woman without tearing up

When I thought that it would never happen to me

When I broke down every month it didn't happen

When I would daydream myself with a baby bump

When I would resent all the women who complained about pregnancy and the difficulties of parenthood

When I prayed every day that I could have a baby

When I gave up

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When I saw the positive on my home pregnancy test

When I saw the positive Again on the pregnancy test

When Bryce saw the positive on the pregnancy test

When I cried and held Bryce and jumped for joy like a little girl at Christmas

When I sobbed as I thanked my Heavenly Father for this blessing

When I told my Mom and she cried

When I told the rest of my family and friends

When Bryce couldn't keep it in and spilled the beans to his Dad - the first to know

When I heard the heartbeat at only 8 weeks

When I felt the baby move @ 22 weeks

When I saw him on the ultrasound screen and knew he was a boy

When I told everyone that we were having a boy

When Bryce first felt the baby move

When I noticed my belly protruding and wore my first maternity shirt

When I bought that little pair of sandals at the store

When I bought a baby name book and have now worn it out with use

When I made his first blanket and filled his room with baby things

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When I realized that it has all been worth it . . .

I can't wait to meet my little boy . . . only 24 more days

Happy Clover Day

What did we eat on St. Patrick's Day?

Corned beef and cabbage. Apparently this is a very Irish meal to celebrate St. Patrick's Day. My mother informed me of this, and I do remember eating it growing up, but I had idea it was for St. Patty's Day. I just know that you have to wear green on St. Patrick's Day or you will get pinched. Now I have a new tradition. I have made this meal for the past few years for our dinner on the day of green. It always turns out yummy. I usually make it in the crock-pot, but this time I just made it in a pot on the cook top. It turned out just and yummy and both Bryce and I enjoyed it. I added a few carrots and potatoes along with the cabbage. I had all the intentions of making green cookies too, but I didn't have any eggs so that didn't happen. It was still a "sweet" green day nonetheless.

Calling All Mothers

I need advice. I need encouragement. I am asking for anyone who reads this blog to comment on this post and leave me advice. Labor and Delivery advice. Infant advice. Motherly advice. Anything that you can think of.

BUT . . . There is a catch. Keep it positive. I get a little tired of hearing the same old terrible stories about 0 hrs of sleep, exhaustion, pain, sadness, etc. I want to hear the good stuff. Or, at least advice to get me through the yucky. Maybe I'll let you all spill the horror a little later, but for now let's hear the sunshine.

I Dislike Winter. . .No I HATE it!

Bryce has been in Texas for the last few weeks. I have been staying with my parents in Ekalaka while he is gone. I am taking online classes and it has been nice to be with my Mom and Dad, but I can't deny that these past few months have been a little terrible. For those "med school wives" out there that are reading this, you know what I mean.

Here is a short explanation of how the last 5 months have been for the Jolley Family. Bryce is now a 4th year med student. The whole 4th year consists of the students doing externships. They go from state to state, hospital to hospital, working and learning alongside resident podiatrist and attending doctors. All of the externships are 4 weeks long, except one that last 4 months. Bryce has been to many places, and I was lucky enough to go with him to one of those many. He started the year in Tacoma Washington. He was there from end of May through September. I was able to spend June-August there with him. Then I went to Idaho to start a new semester of school in Rexburg. I have been living the past 4 months in Shelley and traveling to school in Rexburg. From Washington, Bryce headed to Greeley Colorado. He stayed there for a month then he was off to Tucson Arizona. From Arizona he ventured into Albuquerque New Mexico and then finally off to Temple Texas.

Now, I did get to see him in between his stays for a few days at a time. He was able to visit @ Halloween for a few days, then @ Thanksgiving and Christmas. Each time he left, I was more sad than the last. I would dream of him being next to me in the bed and wake up thinking he was there only to reach over to a cold, empty pillow. I am making this dramatic, yes. But, I was definitely lonely. Even though I was surrounded by a loving family. My suffering must have been small compared to Bryce. He has never said this out loud, but I know he has been lonely. His accommodations have ranged from small hotel rooms to apartments resident to giant cockroaches. He has been living out of a suitcase now for nearly 9 months and he has no one to come home to at night besides his computer and an occasional redbox movie. Needless to say, we are happy that his travels are nearing a close.

He left Texas yesterday headed due north to Ekalaka Montana. I have never been more anxious to see him than I have been in the last few days. It has been beautiful weather in Ekalaka since I have been here. 35-50 degrees and sunshine. Accumulated snow has started to melt and my parents and I have been free to travel to surrounding cities to shop and have a good time when we wanted. However, luck is not a lady we are on good terms with. She sent us a "stormy" reminder of that this weekend.

The day Bryce set off on his 24 hour trek to Montana, a storm of perilous proportions smothered us in its terror. It's as if an unseen warden is holding us all captive in a prison of unpenetrating white. Tell of the storm had reached our ears days before and it was like waiting for the "sleeping giant" to awaken. It began with darkened skies and darkened homes. Surrounding Ekalaka, fog and ice had accumulated on power lines and cut off power supply to many. But, no snow. Just wind. It howled for days like a lost pup. I was praying for the snow to hold off until Bryce made his way safely to my parents driveway. Mother Nature sometimes doesn't seem to hear those prayers. Last night the wind became ferocious and then came the white. A sheet of white. I awoke to look out my window and the class was nearly covered in snow. I could only see through small peepholes into the blizzard outdoors. Whoa. Yes, Whoa.

I've seen winter storms. Living most my life in the wilds of Wyoming and Montana, I have been witness to some pretty fantastic displays of winter weather. But, I can't recall a storm like this. Its not just the impressive amount of snow that is coming from above, but the 40+ mile an hour wind makes it awesome to behold. We sit in the house and it sounds as if we are in a wind tunnel. Whooooosh - Swissssshhhhh - Hooooooooofah, is the song Mother Nature sings to us. What a sight.

The storm, sadly, is very isolated over our part of the state. Bryce is now sitting in a Motel 6, a mere 130 miles away from us, and is witness to nothing but gray skies and small gusts. It was very, VERY difficult to convince him of the peril traveling to Ekalaka at this time would be. I spent all of last night and today persuading him to stay where he is and wait it out till this wolf blows its last huff and puff. Its a fact of life that wive are worriers, but I am a TERRIBLE worrier when it comes to travel in the winter. Winter travel hasn't, to put it lightly, our friend the past few years. We have come through blizzards, ice, and hit deer. We always seem to make it where we are going, but it never is a treat. It just seems our lot to get into the eye of the storm wherever we go from October to March.

Okay, that wasn't a short version of anything. But, a good outlet of emotion. I hope to see Bryce sometime tomorrow, but he may be a guest of Motel 6 for a few days before we are able to be reunited again. At least I can find comfort in that Motel six always leaves the light on for ya.

Hi-Ho, Hi-Ho, It's Back To School I Go!

"Don't you love . . . the fall? It makes me wanna buy school supplies. I would send you a bouquet of newly sharpened pencils if I knew your name and address."
photo taken from: www.flickr.com/photos/merelymel/2824506032/

This time of year is exciting to me. I really love all the back to school stuff in the stores and the fall weather turning the vegetation into colorful works of art. I feel like Tom Hanks in You've Got Mail. "Don't you love . . . the fall? It makes me wanna buy school supplies. I would send you a bouquet of newly sharpened pencils if I knew your name and address." *(Of course, I would love to send anyone a bouquet of newly sharpened pencils. If you want one, just put your name and address as a comment and I promise to send you a pencil bouquet. I will, I really will. To be honest, I will only send you a pencil bouquet if I know you well and I know that you would appreciate the gesture. The deciding of those who will be the most appreciative is up to my discretion:)* I do want to buy school supplies and I think a lovely pencil bouquet would look quite nice on my kitchen table. But, this year is a little different for me. I AM ACTUALLY GOING BACK TO SCHOOL MYSELF!

I got married to the best man in the world in August of 2005. Right before we met, I had decided that I needed a break from my academia, and I was faithfully preparing to serve a LDS mission. I filled out all the papers, got my necessary interviews, checked in with my dentist, and I was even getting up very early in the morning everyday to study the scriptures. (I am not a morning person at all!) Everything was in order and I was about to send that packet of papers into SLC and await my calling. THEN, I met a handsome, chiseled, funny, and just generally awesome man named Bryce Jolley. We dated from May through June, got engaged July 3rd, and married August 19, 2005.

Bryce was finishing up his undergraduate education when we were newlyweds. He was also preparing to enter medical school in the Fall of 2006. Needless to say, he was a busy character at the time. Between school work, taking entrance exams, flying to interviews, and working as an electrician for his father, he had little time for much else. I, on the other hand, should have taken that time to go back to school myself. However, even though I had initially taken a break from my academics for the purpose of serving a mission, I wasn't ready to go back quite yet. School has never been super easy for me. I love learning, but I am easily emotional and I get stressed quite readily. College classes and me didn't jive too well my first couple years of school. I needed some time to re-think what I wanted to do with my education. So, while Bryce was actively pursuing his academic aspirations, I went back into the workforce. I worked for Deseret Book for a time.

In July of 2006, we moved to Des Moines Iowa for Bryce to attend Des Moines University. The next three years, he worked his little hiney off to get through school and we are now into his 4th year of med school and looking forward to the next years of his residency. Throughout all of this, I have often felt like I needed to go back to school. I've never felt right about leaving my academic progress just hanging in the breeze. I felt like not finishing school was just one more thing that I had failed at. No one likes to feel like a failure, and I felt like one sometimes. These feelings came only from my silly emotional self.

No one in my life has ever made me feel like I was less of a person because I hadn't finished college. In fact, there were times when I felt like there really was no use in finishing because I had a husband who was going to finish enough school for the both of us. It was my job to just make sure he got through his schooling in one piece. We were going to start a family someday soon, and when that happened I was determined to be a stay at home mom. I wouldn't be using my degree anyway. Who needs a little slip of paper that says I have a degree in something or the other? No one give a degree in child-rearing and family studies. I mean, RIGHT? I thought these thoughts, but never really believed them. I wanted, and felt like I needed, a college degree. How could I teach my children the importance of a college education if I, myself, didn't finish college? What if something were to happen to my husband, what would I do for work. I know I have many talents, but the workforce nearly demands a college education. Most of all, I REALLY wanted to feel like I had finished something I started. I want to be able to frame my diploma on the wall and feel good about myself for the hard work I put in to get it.


So, after YEARS of going back and forth with myself. I decided that it was time. Time to go back to school and finish what I started in 2002 at the ripe old age of 18. Heavenly Father doesn't seem to think that it is time for us to have children exactly when we planned them. This made my decision even easier. If I am not to be a mother right now, then I should finish what I started while I have the time and attention to give schooling my 100%. It took MANY prayers and MANY tears to come to the place I am right now. But, as I type, I am again enrolled as a full-time student at BYU-Idaho. I start in exactly a week, and I am very excited. I am very scared. I am very anxious. I am very grateful. I am very blessed.

I don't know exactly how to proceed. I anticipate feeling a little awkward and out of place at first. But, I fully intend to do my very best. I fully intent to get the best grades of my life and make myself and my family proud. It may be a long next few years, but I will have the framed diploma hanging on my wall someday soon. This is my time to show that I can do it, and I don't intend to feel like a failure this time. In fact, I haven't felt so good about something since the day I knew that Bryce was to be my eternal companion.

To all the rest of you starting school this fall, GOOD LUCK! From Kindergarteners to Graduate Students, this is your year. Make it the best year ever!

Insomnia Strikes Again - Give My Regards To Broadway . . .

Amber Jardee and ME singing The Star Spangled Banner before a basketball game. I was probably 17 in this picture. This is the only picture I have of me singing. Strange, because I did it A LOT back then.

I think that I have written before about the reason I have trouble sleeping at times. I'm going to go over it again, for my own sake. I think a lot. I'm not talking about intelligent, philosophical thoughts. No, I just think about everything. What I have done, what I haven't done, what I want to do, what I need to do, who I need to call, what I need to write, what needs cleaned, and the list goes on and on and on and on.

I go to bed tired, but my brain is wide awake. It just won't empty. All those thoughts and obligations cram themselves into my consciousness and hang on for dear life. Those pesky thoughts jam every corner and crevice they can find until there is no where for them to go. I swear my head must have to enlarge to accommodate such greedy guests. Then comes the headache and the pounding. The vicious thoughts all have hammers and are now hammering on my skull, trying to break free somehow. I take medicine to subside their anxiousness, but it only works for so long. All that thinking has to go somewhere and it isn't going to be pretty when it spills out. So, Sorry you had to witness this, but there is clean up needed in aisle five because someone popped the cork.

Here is something that I have been pondering often lately. By pondering, I mean obsessing over.
I was heavily involved in my high school music department. My choir teacher, Cindy Quade, was also the guidance counselor. To be simple, she was awesome. She brought so much variety and talent to that tiny school. My high school only had about 60-70 students. Total. That means 9th -12th grade . . . 60 students. How much can you do with so few students? Mrs. Quade found a way to do everything and it was all done really well. I LOVED doing show choir, dinner theatre productions, music festivals, choir concerts, singing the National Anthem at games, the works. My 12th grade year, I worked as her teachers aide. I came to her with so many ideas, and most of them she consented to doing. She gave me free reigns to do as much as I wanted. I helped put together our Broadway review that year, I planned what the theme was to be for our show choir productions, I even choreographed most of the numbers. I enjoyed every second. BUT, my crowning glory was when I got to sing with the Jazz Band.

I had, and currently have, a gigantic fascination with Frank Sinatra. He won me over with his enchanting melodies, his hypnotic ballads, and that voice of gold. I just mentioned to Mrs. Quade that one of my dreams was to sing THAT type of music with a real band behind me, just like Frank. She arranged it. She had the Jazz Band learn "Someone To Watch Over Me" with me doing the vocals (the band hated this song. they all told me it was, by far, their least favorite song and the wished the didn't have to do it. Just a side note) It was glorious. I will never forget how glamorous I felt. I don't think I appreciated it as much then as I do now. I'm pretty sure she has no idea how much that meant to me. That year for Christmas she gave me a Frank Christmas album. It is still one of my favorites. Don't you agree that she was awesome to say the least.

I've always loved performing, and the Carter County High School Music Department was a very available venue. I am proud to say that I think I took full advantage of that while I could. No regrets here. Well, not true, I do have one tiny regret. I had one more dream, to be in a Musical - Broadway style. Unfortunately, I was the only one. None of my fellow students wanted to devote the time or effort necessary to put on a musical. And, as much as I wanted to, I couldn't play Eliza Doolittle without a Henry Higgins.

But, High School is NEVER the end of any dreams. Luckily, dreams can live on past our glorious adolescent years. I know there are some out there that still think high school was the best time of their lives, and that life just gets boring and draining after you toss that weird square cap into the air. What's with the weird cap and gown thing anyway. Those hats don't look good on anyone, and they are strange. I guess I might have to research that before I go on bashing the age long tradition huh. Moving on. College! (I'm sure this jaunt through my past is enjoyable to no one but my mother, so you don't have to read on if you don't want to. Remember, this is just to spill my overflowing brain)

I did continue performing in college. I was in a Women's Choir that was sort of fun. I was in a VERY FUN, vocal ensemble called From The Heart. Yes, we were as cheesy as the name, but still very enjoyable. I was in a few school talent shows. I sang and played my guitar to anyone who would listen. I learned how to country dance. But, still no Broadway musical. No Eliza Doolittle.

Then I got married to the most perfect man on the planet. I forgot to mention that my #1 dream of my life, even before the dream of Eliza, was to be a wife and a mother. I was overjoyed to finally start fulfilling this dream. I love being a wife. I can't say that I miss being single even a snitch. I don't miss high school, I don't miss college, I don't miss adolescence. None of my past joys can compare to the bliss I feel when I lay in bed and night and listen to my husband breathing next to me and feel his arm around my waist. He is the best thing that has happened in my life. What else can I say.

But alas, as of late, my old Broadway dream is taking over. Eliza Doolittle is singing "wouldn't it be loverly" over and over in my head until I want to scream. I listen to show tunes ALL DAY LONG on my computer. When I have spare time I watch Broadway clips on you tube. I can't get "Forget About The Boy" from Thoroughly Modern Millie out of my head and I sing it constantly, even though I only know half of the words. I keep thinking . . . will I ever be able to do Broadway? I have no desire to perform as a career, but I have a great desire to participate in a Musical. I don't mind if it is a no budget church production or a community event. I would prefer that actually. I just want to do it SOOOOOOOO bad. I know New York is never going to knock on my door, asking for my name to be on a playbill. I almost think of nothing else. This is one of the reasons why I can't sleep tonight. *Big Sigh*

I won't go into detail about the others right now. It feels good just to get this little bit out into the void so I might have a chance to sleep tonight. Don't be surprised if another insomnia column shows up on the blog tomorrow.

Thanks and Goodnight.

Update: This Just in . . . Or Maybe Not Just

I just got an unexpected and very welcome call from my good friend Megan this afternoon. She informed me that I am a very poor blogger as of late. I do admit that I haven't been up to speed this summer with all of our comings and goings. And, do be honest, there have been little of both comings and goings, but I will convey it to you.
We are in Tacoma Washington still, and about half the way through our rotation here. Bryce has had mixed feelings about the program. He really enjoys all the people that he has been working with and he likes the facilities, he just hasn't been quite as busy as he would like. Not that he doesn't like a good amount of down time now and then, he just feels like he has a little too much of it. He is home quite often and I fear I am very little entertainment. He is learning and getting closer to the end every day. He heads off to Colorado in October and he seems to be excited about that.
Now, I have been doing a little, and trying to keep myself busy. My sister Emily just had a baby and before the baby came I tried to help her out as much as I could. I've tried to help with her kids and her housework while she was dead on her feet and minutes from delivery. She is onloy 45 minutes from Tacoma in Bellvue and it has been a lifesaver to have her here. Her and her kids have saved me from ultimate boredom and depression many a time. Now she has a new baby and my Mom is here helping her get back on her feet again. I love to see them both as often as I can.
We also have relatives in Redmond. Bryce's Aunt Laree and Uncle Roger are there and they have had us up to dinner twice now and have invited us again this weekend. It is so enjoyable for me to get to know Bryce's extented family. The Jolleys are always so friendly and welcoming. I love them already very much. I also met his Uncle Bryan last weekend and again am not surprised at how warm and loving all the Jolleys are.
Over the 4th we were able to go to Idaho. It was wonderful. We boated, went rock climbing, had bbq's, watched fireworks, and had a great time. We love going to Shelley and seeing the family. We were lucky this time that we were able to see Steve and Chelsea and their kids. Sometimes we miss seeing them, and itwas so wonderful to see them. My little niece and nephew are quite the most adorable kids ever.
Washington is very beautiful, but it seems be city afer city and I find myself longing for the wide open spaces of the plains. I'm sure I could get used to it here, but I feel a bit congested and closterphobic.
Bryce is my iron rod. He keeps me happy and keeps my mind off of the coming months. I really am quite nervous. Bryce keeps me laughing, which really is the best medicine. I feel so much better after a good laugh, and Bryce is full of ways to get it out of me. I love him for that among many other things.

What I'll Miss About Des Moines

Long walks around Grays Lake. This place is especially enchanting at night when the lights are up on the bridge. I will miss walking around in the Summer and hearing the roaring buzz of the cicadas in the trees. Funny that I will miss that, I used to hate it.

My favorite store and the place I always found the best deals ever. I'm pretty sure there aren't Gordmans in Washington. But, how knows. Maybe I will find one here someday.

Fireworks Friday Nights at the Cubs games. Good old Principal Park. This picture makes the Ball-Park look a lot bigger than I remember. Still cool though.

Greenwood Pond. This is my ultimate favorite place in Des Moines. I could come here and spend hours just walking around and looking at all the animals and pretty scenery. Just up the hill from the pond is the Rose Garden and Art Center. Places that Bryce and I frequented while living in Iowa. My favorite time of year is spring because of the new life and the animals. Greenwood Pond always had turtles, frogs, birds, ducks, geese, and anything else you could ever want to see in Iowa.

One of my favorite trails to run on. The Riley Trail. This picture doesn't even do the beauty of this place justice. I would more often than not see deer in the woods watching me run and raccoons scamper away as I passed. I felt all alone, yet surrounded by the comfort of this beautiful place. This trail has seen many miles from my old asics.

The Salisbury house is so fun to walk around and so close to our old apartment.
Those of you who are still in Iowa and have not walked around this place yet, need to right now. I always felt like I was stepping back in time and I was Elizabeth Bennett. You can just imagine Mr. Darcy is about to turn the corner and propose. Not that I need a Mr. Darcy, I've got something much better.

My favorite weekend activity. An Iowa Cubs game. Why a game is better than a movie. #1:Cheaper #2:Outdoors #3:Shooting Hot Dogs and T-shirts #4:You can be as loud as you want, no one shushing you #5:Dancing and singing so you can be shown on the Mega-tron. #6:Lots of people watching #7:Every game is Family Freindly, they don't have to come with a rating #8:Aren't the first seven enough.

My lovely Cardinals. I will miss you most of all. I will miss them waking me up in the morning and calling to me when I get a little too close. It is such a thrill to see this bright red wonder amidst the flood of green that engulfs Iowa's skyline. Everywhere you look you see green, and it is breathtaking. But, it is better still to look a the green and see a spot of red flashing through and singing a song to you.

Feels Like Home To Me

Moving to a new place is always a little disorienting. There is no way to know where you are going, which road to take, where all your familiar spots are. It is a lonely feeling. I moved quite a bit when I was young, and then Bryce and I have moved a lot since we have been married. I thought that maybe I would be used to it by now and it wouldn't even phase me. But, this morning as I was unpacking our suitcases in an unfamiliar apartment with strangers walking outside my window, I felt that ever pressing loneliness growing in my belly. It wasn't a good feeling and I wanted so to stave it off. So, I took a quick shower to gather my senses and then decided that we needed a few necessities. And, where do you go for all your necessities . . . WAL-MART of course. Bryce and I typed the address to a Wal-Mart close by and took off. As we pulled into the parking lot I could feel that pressing in my stomach begin to subside. Then, as we walked into the automatic glass doors and were greeted by a friendly "welcome to Wal-Mart" I took a great sigh of relief. This, this place, it feels a little like home doesn't it.

Movin on up . . . or out . . . or on . . . or I don't know what I mean!?

We are no longer living in Iowa. After weeks, or should I say years, of preparation, we are onto new things. WE loaded up our things, fueled up the vehicles and headed out. Our trek took us to Cheyenne Wyoming first, then on to Idaho. Then, a week later, we are in Washington. This is to be our final resting place for the next four months. Bryce is officially a 4th year Med Student now and he is on to his "rotations" now. It is quite the confusing and drawn out process, but I will attempt to explain without leaving you all dazed and confused.

*BIG BREATH*

We spend the next four months in Tacoma Washington. Bryce will work @ Tacoma Multi-Care while trying to learn as much as he can and get on the resident directors good side:). I have no clue what I am going to do, but I will at the very least be here as a support for my overworked and often stressed husband. I will probably get a job part time and then visit my sister in Bellevue as much as possible. We are living in quite the little apt, but it is much nicer than I expected and it is definitely livable for 4 months.

THEN - the next part is the tricky one so follow closely. Byrce heads off to do a series of 4 week rotations at different establishments all over. He heads to Colorada, Texas, Arizona, New Mexico, then at last he lands in Idaho where he will spend the remainder of the year. Then, HOPEFULLY, onto graduation next May. And stuck in there somewhere is the dreaded Part II boards test. So he will have to work like a dog and study for this MUST PASS test so he can become Dr. Jolley FINALLY! THEN . . . I know it just keeps going on and on, he has a three year residency. We don't know where that will be, but it will be somewhere he has rotated in the past year. And, the way that the residents are chosen is way over my head and I dont understand it at all so I won't even delve into that.

Some of you may be thinking, WHAT is dear little Natali going to be doing this whole time while her husband is out doctoring the world. Well, that is yet to be decided, but in Sept. I head back to Idaho to finish up some loose ends at school. I have always regretted not being able to finish completely so I am taking advantage of this time to do so. I am pretty nervous about it, but it should be good. I really haven't decided WHICH education I am going to pursue yet, but it will have something to do with Pre-school education. Whether I attend BYU-I or not, is still up for debate. I am considering Montessori training as well. So, if anyone has any suggestions about that decision please feel free to lay them on me. I have to decide by Thursday, because that is when I register for classes if I will attend my old faithful BYU-I.

So, here is to a year of change and learning. I am already feeling the strain and it has only been a short few weeks. I am determined to be strong and keep a positive attitude. I may need some good boosts of support from all my family and friends to keep my afloat, but I know that I can do it. Bryce is the real trooper in this saga of our lives. I can't being to explain my admiration for this man who choose me to be his wife. He has be nothing be brave and strong through ALL of it. From day one, he has put his chest out and got straight to business. He does so well in every endeavour he starts. He works so hard and he hardly ever complains. He is going to have a long, crazy year ahead of him and I hope that I can help him as much as I can. And, to all you who are about to embark upon the same journey this year . . . GOOD LUCK. Especially to my friends Becca, Shauni, Megan, and Aunna. You will all be in my prayers and I can't wait to see you again next May! HERE WE GO!

And it begins . . . Again.

Insomnia. I crave sleep. I need sleep. I LOVE TO SLEEP. But inside this head is a jumble of thoughts, lists, feelings, guilts, and stuffs. I have never been known as a logical person. No, I am an emotional person. I live by my emotions and logic and sense have so very little to do with what... I do. I have always been able to love quickly, and cry easily. These are traits of mine that I have tried to suppress and hide my whole life. I have tried holding my breath when I feel that tightness in my throat that, wettness pool at the brim of my eyes. That generally leads to an embarassing outburts of breath with an overly pent-up sob following. So, needless to say that holding your breath does little to hold back tears. I have tried looking up at the ceiling to help the tears melt back into the eye sockets. I always think this will work. I always imagine that when I put my face back down that the tears will have dissapeared back to where they originated. Does this work? You guess. Yup, it sure doesn't. I've tried the ever classic close the eyes real tight routine in hopes that it that may jail up the ever flowing rascals. No cell can hold back my tears, they always find a way to break through the tight lids of their prison. Now, love quickly . . . I've gotten better at this. Sadly. Yes, very sadly.
Like most, but few admit to, I want to be accepted and liked by those I know. I have always craved the spotlight. I blame this on my parents. They raised me to be a performer. I don't just perform music, I perform to whomever I am with. I love to make others laugh, though I am far from clever or witty. Silly and ridiculous, yes. But, not witty. I always thought myself a person that one could easily like. Unfortunately, I am not always liked by each and every person I come in contact with. Now, given my sensitive nature, I always feel this unliking. I feel it so deeply and I hurt so much because of it. Even if it may be only an idea or trait of mine that someone dislikes, I still feel it greatly. I have been told since I was little that I shouldn't be so sensitive. But, alas, I cannot shake this from me. I take things to heart, and those "things" tend to wound it. After years, (and I do admit I don't have too many to my credit but I believe I still have enough to credit the time I have lived as "years"), I have found that the best way to avoid being wounded by the "things" of those around me is to seclude myself from them.
Im sorry if I may not be making perfect sense, but it is late...you dont have to read this if you feel I talking nonsense.
I moved a few times when I was a teenager. I moved once when I was thirteen, and then again at 16, and of course again at 18 when I left for college. I thought my life would end, as many dramatic, emotional teenagers would in my same situation. But, each time it worked out. I sure made a fuss and shed my share of undeserved tears, but in the end, I was fine. And, some might say I am now stronger. Perhaps, it may be a stretch though, even wiser because of it. One thing I did learn, or so I thought, was how to make new friends. Given my need to be liked, and my knack for performance, I generally fared pretty well when on the prowl for friends. I was even lucky enough to pass through my LONG lasting akward phase and score a boyfriend or two in the scheme of things. I tried my best to ice down the wounds that followed when I discovered someone didn't like me. I guess my teenage shallowness helped, because I think I remember fewer wounds from those years. Then, as life moved on, as it generally tends to do, came the goodbyes and the tears. The long embraces and the promises exchanged to always stay in touch. BFF right. And then . . . the wounding.
I suppose I disliked this saying goodbye and I disliked the hurt so much that I decided I was done with it. I think I really put myself out of touch after a couple years of college. In short, to spare you the pittifull details, I found myself quite lonely. Blessedly, I still had some wonderful friends, and my perfect family, who helped me. I slowly became the person I was before. I dared to open myself up to others, to withstand the dislike so I may be joyful in the love shared between people. This is when I met my husband. No one in the world has made my happy like he does. No one in the world has made me feel love like he. No one has made me hurt like he does. I still cry too easily and take too much to heart. But, it is who I am. Take me with my tears and sensitivity, or leave me. And he took me. And he still does. Everyday. He takes me the way I am and loves me.
I realize this statement is far from original and has been overused to the point that it may be sickening. But, I sure am happy for it. I am happy that it is the way it is. I dont have to perform and hope that he will like me for me. I already know that he does. We all take the ones in our lives and love them with their weaknesses. How else would we ever be loved by one another. A lesson hard learned. In the wise, but cheesy, words of Michael Mclean "I can't please everyone. I know, because I've tried. I told myself I could and then found out I lied. So many times we live and learn. And then we truly see. That I can't please anyone, until I'm pleased with me."
So, here is this lengthy blog post from an emotional lover, who is grateful to be taken the way she is.
Goodnight to all.

Just To Write . . .

I just need a little outlet, and writing has always been a very effective way for me to let off some steam. I have been a little down lately, so I wanted to sit down and list off my blessings. The things in my life that make me happy and bring me joy. There are so many. Once I start listing them I can never find a place to stop. I hope there is never I time that I only have a few things to write. Then I will know I'm not doing what I should be doing.

Natali's Blessings:

-The perfect husband (he is the complete package. I couldn't ask for more in a spouse. And I get to be with him FOREVER. Wow. I LOVE YOU BRYCE)
-A loving family (my siblings and my parents are my best friends. I can't ever say enough how much I love them)
-A place to live (because the weathers stinks around here and I am happy to have a roof over my head)
-A job (I guess a couple of jobs. And no matter how much I complain about them, they are a blessing. I wish I could see them as that all the time)
-Really cute kids in that I teach in sunbeams (especially this week. They were so good and listened so well. I didn't even think it was the same class)
-A car that runs (most of the time. Sometimes I just want to throw it in the garbage and get a new one. But, at least it gets me from here to there right)
-A healthy body (I do get sick often lately, but I am able to walk, run, jump, sing, play, and laugh)
-A beautiful guitar (my Dad made my guitar for me and it is one of my prized possessions. It brings me hours upon hours of joy)
-A bookcase full of good books (one of my loves is for reading. I love a good fantasy and I can't resist Jane Austen any chance I get)
-Food (oh I wish I loved food a little less. But it does bring me a lot of joy and comfort. I especially love to bake delicious goodies. No wonder my waistline is constantly expanding)
-A soft bed (I think sleeping and napping are one of my guilty pleasures. There is nothing in this world I enjoy more than a bit of shut-eye)
-Musicals and girlie movies (when I get down, nothing boosts my spirit like a Rogers and Hammerstein musical or Little Women again for the 800th time)
-Paper to make things (my mother in law is the supplies for my favorite hobby. Paper creating. I love to make a cute card from just bits of paper. FUN)
-Animals (I have MORE than a soft spot in my heart for animals. I get sad even when I see a stinky skunk hit on the road. I just can't ever forget that -not a bird falls without heavenly father taking notice-)
-Nature (my favorite color is green. I love it because it is the color of nature. Ah, spring will be glorious won't it)
-Make-up (isn't it funny that females and not males get to put on make-up. I wonder who decided that. We must just be the more vain of the sexes. I am grateful though. What a sight it would be if we didn't get to touch ourselves up.)
-Warm socks (if my feet are cold, I feel cold all over. I have several pairs of warm fuzzy socks and they get their wear out of them. Every Christmas all I want is a new pair of fuzzy socks)
-Music (I could go on forever. Music touches me to my soul. I especially love to create music with my family)
-Smiles (my Mom always has a smile on her face. I wish I could be like that. It makes me happy to see a smile. My friend Erin Pitcher is also a really good smiler)
-Silliness (today at work, Jack just started squeezing his quesadilla in his hands and his face got all red. I laughed and laughed and he laughed so hard he almost fell off his chair. That felt good. There are so many times that my Mom or sisters and I get laughing so hard that we can't stop. Oh, that is such a wonderful feeling)
-Technology (I keep in contact with so many family and friends using the internet. I feel like I am a part of their lives when I see pictures and read about them. How cool)
-Safety (seeing all the "wars and rumors of wars" on the news makes me so grateful that I am safe in America. It seems that there is a lot of complaining about government and the falling economy. I hope we remember that we are all safe and living in the most affluent country in the world)
-Sunshine (we haven't seen it in a few days here in Iowa, but I know it's up there waiting to warm us all up. I am waiting impatiently for it to come)
-My life (We watched a movie the other night called Awakenings. It make me cry for about 2 hours straight. But the message was wonderful. We don't take advantage of the life we have. We should always live the fullest we can)
-My testimony (I have always known that Jesus is my Savior and that my Heavenly Father loves me. I have never questioned those things. I owe a lot to my parents for teaching me how to live right and follow the Lord since I was a girl. I continue to learn and build faith everyday)

I am going to end there. I could go on forever, but my bum is a little sore from sitting too long at the computer. I am also starting to go a little cross-eyed. Wow, that is a long list. I am a pretty fortunate lady. Good Night Everyone!

Dinner Disaster

Do not let this cute picture fool you. This post is not nearly as contented and composed as this woman looks. Beware!

I know that I am not alone in my dislike to prepare dinner. Let me clarify a bit. I do enjoy to cook. I believe it to be a very good outlet of creativity. The part I HATE about preparing dinner is the deciding what to make. Anyone who knows me, knows that I am not the best decision maker in the world. I would much rather someone else just make my decisions for me or just help me along a little.

My least favorite thing to hear come out of my husbands mouth is . . . "what do you want for dinner?" I don't know! I just don't know. I think that if I had the chance of cooking the same thing everyday just so that I would never be asked that question, I would do it. Oh POOR, POOR BRYCE. I honestly feel so sorry for him. I mean what kind of a wife am I. And, to make matters worse, he has some good friends who's spouses are nearly gourmet cooks. I can't compete with that.

The other part of dinner preparation that I dislike is gathering the ingredients. I don't know a single recipe I have looked at in a cookbook that calls for something that I don't have. I OFTEN, try to substitute something for the missing ingredient and it OFTEN does not go well. My Mother is a master of substituting missing ingredients with things that she has in the house. I am not a good enough cook to do this, and when I try to emulate my Mother it goes sooooo poorly. I can remember meals that my Mom made out of everything that was leftover in the fridge/freezer and they were good! Yes, they were good. She can make a delectable treat out of what the rest of us would throw out. Where oh, where do I pick up that talent. I must have missed that sprinkle when talents were being tossed onto us from heaven.

I could go on forever with my dislike of preparing dinner, but I have an experience I must share that tells the story so perfectly.

One of my good friends, Michelle, is a VERY good cook. Bryce and I have been on the receiving end of her meals several times and they are always wonderful and perfect. I always feel that I should reciprocate the invitation to dine, but I am too embarassed about my poor cooking. I won't even have the missionaries over because I don't know what I would cook them. One recent occasion pushed my over the edge and then nudged me down into a hole. This experience convinced me that I am not supposed to cook . . . ever.

As I mentioned before, Michelle invited us over for a dinner of deliciousness. It was an all homemade version of one of Cafe Rio's famous salads. Neither Bryce, nor I, have ever been to Cafe Rio. We have only heard how wonderful it is. If Cafe Rio is anything like what Michelle prepared for us, I would be sold. It was unmeasurabley yummy. Oh my goodness. I can't even describe the goodness of it all.

I left over full and determined to be a better cook for my spouse. He deserves yummy meals like that, and I have never made something that yummy. The ironic thing about the whole situation is that I had planned to make a similar meal that same day before I we were invited to dinner. So, the next day I prepared to make my meal so that I could see how it measured up.

I was home most of the day and was able to focus a lot of my attention on this dinner. Bryce had specifically said that he wanted lime chicken tacos. Easy right! I even made my own fresh salsa with a little splash of lime. I placed my chicken in the slow cooker with spices, onions, and a lime. What a delicious smell emitted from the crock pot! I was sure that this meal was going to be one Bryce would talk about for many days to come. As I prepared the table for our dinner, I of course, tested a little of the chicken and rice that I had cooked earlier. My eyes pinched, my eyebrows furrowed, and my lips pursed. WOAH! BITTER . . . SOUR . . . LIMES! The chicken and the rice had such a taste of bitterness to them I could hardly keep it in my mouth. Even the salsa was so full of lime taste it was unbearable. I tried to remedy the sour taste of my ingredients, but to my dismay, the lime was the strong one of the bunch.

Bryce insisted that we try some and see how it tasted when it got into a tortilla with sourcream, cheese and lettuce. So we filled up our tortillas with lime chicken, rice, and salsa. I added extra sour cream and cheese to try and drown out the bitter taste. I could barely swallow it down. It was awful. The meal ended in lots of food in the garbage and me in tears. (Because we all remember than crying solves everything right)

I didn't know how potent limes got when the simmered for so long. I also left the lime in the peel, and the peel was the culprit of the bitterness. I felt so low. I felt silly, stupid, sad, and sorry for Bryce that I ruined the meal he requested. To make matters worse, this incident happened days after I had lost my job. I was in the process of trying to find new employment, and was having apsolutely no success. That same day I learned that one of the jobs I applied for online was a scammer trying to get information from me so. They got all my info then called me claiming that my credit card had been infultrated by someone. Then the tried to get all my credit card information from me with my S.S. # and Drivers Liscence #. The only postion that wanted me was a scam. Then I prepared a meal that was a disgrace. I was feeling unwanted, used, and really useless. In short, poor poor Natali.

So, I felt sorry for myself for several days and refused to cook anything than what I knew by heart. The next day we had baked Mac & Cheese. One of the easiest meals to prepare in the world. Then it was spaghetti. Also, one of the easiest meals to prepare. Then I adventured out with a dessert dish for Mutual. I tried the "Mom" method of making a recipe work with ingredients that you have around. It didn't work. About two bites got eaten before I threw that in the garbage as well. So, there I was, a garbage full of food and a heart full of pitty. And that pitty was only for myself.

I'd love to end this post by telling you all that I learned from my mistakes. That I stopped thinking about myself and focused my energies on something else. That I did something charitable for someone so I could forget my self indulgence of pitty. But, I can't. I have gotten over the initial sadness and I am cooking meals again. I am trying to feel less sorry for myself. I am feeling that I have use and validity in life. However . . . I still HATE to cook dinner. And I still believe that nothing can cure a bad day better than a good cry.

Crying Solves Eveything: Part 2

Bryce got into the car with a little, confused smirk on his face. He relayed to me what had just happened. Since we really had no other option, we counted two house down from the gas station and parked our broken down car in front of it. It was just a house. No signs that a mechanic lived there at all.

"What do you think?" Bryce said to me. "Should we let this guy touch our car?"

"What else are we going to do." I said, nearly panicked now.

"Okay." And he headed off for the infamous front door. He knocked on the door and waited and not one came so he proceeded to walk to the back of the house to the garage. As he disappeared behind the house I watched as an old man opened the door and looked out. I could tell in an instant that he was without his sight. I was in the car, but I jumped out the greet the man at the door who looked so confused and lost.

"Hello," I called as I approached the front steps. "I hear that you can help us with our car. We are trying to get to Ekalaka and our car keeps overheating."

The old man replied, "Well, I might be able to help. What kinda car you got."

Bryce must have heard us from the back of the house and walked around the corner at this moment. He was very cordial and introduced me and himself to the man. His name was Dean.

"I hear you are the mechanic in town," Bryce said.

"What's left of him," Dean replied.

I will shorten the rest of the story for you. I would like to repeat the whole of the conversation we had with Dean, of Reed Point Montana. But, my post here would get pretty lengthy and I know you all want to know how this story ends.

Dean instructed Bryce to move the car to the back of the house and he would have a try at it. We got to the back and popped the hood. Bryce told him he thought the problem might be the thermostat just needed changed. Since that really was the only direction that we had, we went for it. Bryce had, luckily, bought a new thermostat on our way out of Idaho. Bryce didn't know exactly where it was and how to replace it. So, Dean put out his hands and felt around in our hot engine for the thermostat. He eventually found where it goes and got the tools out of his pocket to remove it. Between Dean relaying how to do things, and Bryce's eyes helping him, they got a new thermostat on the engine. Then they filled the car up with anti-freeze and we were on our way.

Since I have shortened the story considerably, you have missed out on some interesting conversation. Here is a little taste of what was spoke.

Bryce - "Dean, how long have you been doing mechanic work?."
Dean - "Too **** long."
Bryce - "Do you live alone?"
Dean - "Yeah, then those **** women can't be movin' the furniture all around."

Dean - "This engine's so hot it doesn't take me fingers long to see their way around."

Bryce - "We're headed to Ekalaka, do you know where that is."
Dean - "He** yeah. My Mother used to teach school there."
Natali - "Wow, how long ago was that."
Dean - "Ah he**, too long ago."

As we headed off on the road, we were happy to see that the temperature gauge was staying close to mid range and we couldn't smell the antifreeze smell too strongly. Dean, the blind mechanic, must have been an angel because he fixed our car and got us on our way safely. Then again, maybe not.

A big truck pulled to the side of us and a lady pokes her whole upper half out of the truck and yells to us that our car was smoking. We pulled over, and sure enough, over heating again. We poured some more water into the car and prayed that we could get to the next town in one whole piece. We also prayed that the mechanic in the town ahead was someone who could see our problem and fix it quickly.

This is when the tears started edging their way for the ends of my lashes. I was quite upset over the whole unfortunate situation and I was cold. I wanted so much to be strong and keep my eyes dry, but it was proving difficult. And, after a short while, big droplets of wet dripped down my cheeks and smear my make-up horrendously.

We pulled off in Columbus, Montana and found a mechanic. Anther mechanic. And this particular mechanic didn't have a sight impediment. So, four or five hours later, and after many tears had fallen from my eyes, we had a fixed car. We hoped.

I can't imagine that my crying helped the mechanics or Bryce fix my car any faster, or cause the car to miraculously heal itself. But, one thing can be said for my red puffy eyes, and salty face. I sure felt better. This is a phenomenon that men will never fully understand. Why do women cry? It will never totally sink into their brains that this act of emotion is an extremely relieving outlet of built up . . . anything. I cry at some of the smallest things, but I often feel much better having let it all out.

Ladies, I have come a realization. The longer you hold it in, the harder it falls. Let those tears roll and let them flow freely. You can do it where the men never have to witness it, but just do it. I know that those tears that fell on the road to Montana were my way of solving the crisis. I couldn't fix the car, I couldn't do a dang thing actually. But, I could cry.

And, believe me, I did.

Crying Solves Everything: Part 1

What can you learn from a broke down car, a blind mechanic, and a exhausting 40+ hour trip in winter over icy roads? I could probably make something inspiring up, for I do have quite the imagination. Alas, I really don't know for sure. At least, I can't pinpoint just one thing that can be learned from those three things. Maybe patience, humility, and gratitude. But, the lesson that we all must learn and accept at some point in our lives is this . . . crying solves everything!

We had quite the adventurous holiday this year. I know you are all clambering to hear it and I am in desperation to tell you. Here it is, the short version.

It all started out like any Christmas trip. We loaded up the car with snacks, books on CD, blankets, and all the necessities. Which I assure you were many. Thus, the car was packed, jam packed. I actually really enjoy a good road trip. I like the time I get to spend one on one with my husband and it gives us a chance to just sit and talk. Even though Bryce would preferr a good book on CD, he indulges my love of conversation occasionally. We were headed to Idaho for Christmas to spend it with the Jolley Family. Then, on to Montana for New Years. The beginning of our trip went so perfect, it couldn't have gone better. We got to Idaho in high spirits and ready for some merriment. Idaho was wonderful and we both had a tremendous Christmas. Then, on our way to Montana. There seemed to be no reason why this trip shouldn't be just as peachy as the first. Oh me, oh my, were we wrong.

We had been experiencing some trouble with the heat in our car. Winter isn't a good time for someone to experience some trouble with the hear it the car. I don't have to tell you why, you all know. But, we passed it off as a small problem and opted to fill the car with new anti-freeze and be off. So, we were off. 6:30 a.m. we were loaded, again, and out on the open road. Again.

Idaho received quite the amount of snow this year and it was in love with the roads. It stuck to it like flies to a horse. It was packed to the pavement from constant use and ICE was what we were driving on. Still, we had planned on some poor road conditions and traveling a little slower than normal isn't the end of the world. The roads continued to be icy for most of our trip to Montana. We had just gotten into Bozeman Montana when I smelled something peculiar. I asked Bryce what the smell could be and he said that it smelled a little like anti-freeze. A short while later we were stopped at the side of the road, our car overheating, pouring water in the coolant resevoir.

Now, one thing we can say about the people in Montana. You don't have to be stopped for very long before someone, or two or three someones, is stopping to ask if you need any help. However, the car seemed to cool down and we went on our way. Not twenty miles down the road, and we were over heating again. We poured the last of our water into the resevoir and then started to worry. Two trucks stopped to offer assistance this time and we were hoping to just get to the nearest town without blowing up. We made it. A small town called Reed Point.

Now, the expression "small town" may not mean much to some of you who are from the cities. You may think a small town is a town with maybe one Wal-Mart, a half dozen fast food restaurants and a few nice quiet subdivisions. And that may be the case somewhere other than Montana. In Montana, a small town, an actual small town, consists usually of a gas station, a bar, a school, a church, and some houses. Anywhere from 200-500 occupants is norm. And Reed Point was luckily, so we thought, on the 500 side of the population scale. There has to be a mechanic here right? RIGHT!

The gas station attendant told Bryce, "Sure, the mechanic lives just two houses down." Pointing down the road in some direction. "His name is Dean. Just knock on his door. If he doesn't answer, he is out back in he shop."
Bryce readily thanked her. But, she continued to speak.
"He really knows his stuff," she exclaimed. "But, he is blind."

To Be Coninued . . .

Christmas Fondness

Oinkers now 2008

New Oinkers

Like most of us, I love this time of year. I have very fond memories of Christmas as a child and on throughout my life. I attribute this season so some of my most happy times. Here are just a couple of the memories that come to my mind.

When I was young, it was really hard for me to let go of Christmas. When it was over, I wanted to keep the tree up through the whole year. I know that my Mom kept the tree up longer than she wanted to, because I would get so sad when it was gone. You know that song, "I cry the day I take the tree down?" I know that some tears were spilled as we put that evergreen away. I am sure that there were years we had the tree up way into February. The tree is not the only thing I had a hard time letting go of. Christmas music is probably my favorite of all genres of music. I would literally listen to it year round. There was one year when this was quite annoying to my other family members. I was repeatedly asked to turn it off, turn it down, or just listen to something different. My wonderful father knew how much I was enjoying my music, so he came home one day with an old portable tape player and some headphones. He said that he had just put in some new batteries, and I could listen to my music as much as I wanted and no one else would bug me. So I did. A LOT. I had quite the stash of Christmas tapes and I listened to my hearts content. Thanks Dad.

Going back a few years, I was 5 yrs old. I had become VERY attached to my baby blanket. It was just a simple tied quilt with a flannel backing. It had carebears all over it and I loved that thing. I was also a thumb sucker as a child. I am sure I was quite easy to appease because all I needed was that blanket and my right thumb stuck in my mouth. My Mom tried numerous times to get me to stop sucking my thumb, and nothing worked. She took away my blanket several times and I always ended up with it in the end. However, she did finally take it away for good and I was devastated. I felt so lonely, especially while falling asleep. I so wanted something to replace this security. This is just a preface to the actually story coming . . .
My Grammie worked in a jewelry store when I was young. Vandenberg's. It was also a little gift shop as well. They had an especially impressive array of collectible dolls and stuffed animals. Around Chrismtas time around the time I was 5, I spent a large amount of time in the store. I don't know why, but I seemed to be there often. I would go in and go straight to the section with the stuffed animals. I had made a friend in that part of the store, and he sat on the top shelf. His pink fur was plush and irresistable, I had to touch and pet it. His tail was curly and adorable. I just had to push my nose onto his big round nose and I just couldn't put that guy down. If you haven't guessed, he was a pig. The best part about this stuffed friend pig of mine, was that he was larger than life. He was the biggest stuffed pig I had ever seen. He was just smaller than me and I loved to cuddle him and squeeze him.
I so looked forward to the times that I went to visit Grammie at the store because she let me spend as much time as I wanted with my pig. I carried him around with me as if I owned him. I even called him "my pig." You can imagine my horror when I walked through "Vandenberg's" one day and rushed back to greet my pig. HE WAS GONE! GONE! I asked Grammie, with big tears in my eyes, where he was. She said that I shouldn't worry about my pig, he was okay. She had a little smile on her face and it made me kind of suspicious. I got it into my head that she had hidden him in the stock room. I snuck a peak in that room a few times, but never found my pink, plush friend.
Then it hit me, someone must have bought him. He was gone forever. I would never see him again. But then, maybe MY Mom bought him and he was waiting for me at home. YES, that was it. Mom had bought him for me for Christmas. Since I already knew that Mom hid most of our gifts in her closet, I searched that closet just as soon as I got home. Not there. No pig. Actually, I didn't find any gifts. Mom must have realized that she had snooping children in the house and she had to move their surprises to a new location.
Skip forward, Christmas Day. It was a very wonderful year. I got a new doll that when you touched her hand to a little butterfly on her head, her hair grew. Then you cranked her arm up and down and her hair retracted into her head again. She was precious. I can't remember anything else but one thing. There was a particularly large package under the tree that seemed to be bulging at the seams. The wrapping paper was awkwardly placed around a bulging box. Obviously the contents of the box were spilling out. AND, it had my name on it. For some reason, I didn't put it together at that point that it may be my pig. I opened the huge package with confusion and as the paper was ripped from the box, my breath was taken away. A beautiful, fluffy, larger than life, stuffed pig sat there waiting for me. I gladly took him from his cramped quaters and didn't let him go for YEARS. Literally. He became my new obsession. I no longer cared that I didn't have my baby blanket. Oh, and I named him Oinkers.
I still have that pig. He was my constant companion. He went with me to every slumber party. He was in my arms every night as I fell asleep. And, he accompanied me as I left home and headed to college. He has been with me when I was happy and sad. Never to judge or let me down. He was my best friend. Oh, my Oinkers. As the years went on, and after he received so much love, he became quite disheveled. His fur fell out in numerous places, and his fluff got squished into almost nothing. Mom and I tried to wash him, but this only deteriorated his state more. Now Oinkers is helplessly stained and mangled. I keep hoping that he will be like the Velveteen Rabbit and turn into a real pig. He certainly received enough love to qualify. I could go on for ages about the journey of Natali and Oinkers, but I will spare you all.
I guess in closing, I want to say this. I have received countless gifts over the years. Some expensive, and some less so. Some that were straight from the top shelf of a store, and some that were made by hands of loving family members. But, as I think back, I can remember so few of them. Not that they weren't important to me and not that I didn't love them. But, my memory serves me better than that. What I remember most about Christmas is the Love. All of the gifts I received were because of Love. Love envelopes the whole season. My Mom and Dad loved me and they only wanted for me to feel that love. God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son. And Christ loved his fellow man, so as to die for all of us. I love Oinkers, but mostly what he was to me. He was LOVE. I hope I can remember than love, along with all the gifts.
MERRY CHRISTMAS!

The Mansion - Henry Van Dyke

A couple years ago, our stake conference was held via satellite from Salt Lake. President Monson spoke, then First Counselor of the Presidency of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. He recited many of his favorite stories, but these were not the usual stories he refers to. He didn't refer to stories of his youth or of an acquaintance of his. He spoke of favorite books and movies he has read and watched over the years. He spoke of My Fair Lady, It's a Wonderful Life, and many other movies that had touched him in some way. He spoke of many books that shared profound messages that had taught him much.

Most of what he spoke I was familiar with and I thoroughly enjoyed listening to his perspective on things. One story, I was not familiar with. He spoke of a short story written by Henry Van Dyke, called The Mansion. I left the meeting with a determination to find the story and read it. I did attempt a few times to trace it down at the bookstore, but didn't really make a good effort. So here I am, a good 2 years later, finally fulfilling my goal. Takes me a while sometimes. Oops.

I used the lazy mans way of all research and typed "The Mansion" into my Google search engine. Good old Google never lets me down. Not only did I find the story, but I read the whole thing on-line. It carries such a message that it is perfect for Christmas time. It even takes place on Christmas Eve. The story has a "Christmas Carol" sort of a backbone to it and I will forever use it as a staple of my Christmas story telling from now on. I wanted to share it with all of you. I guarantee you will enjoy it.

The Mansion

Heartburn Kills

For the past year or so I have been getting heartburn. And this isn't just any regular old heartburn. This is so painful I have to call it "kill me now" heartburn. There have been several times I thought that my chest was going to rip open and explode with pain. I have often wanted to be taken to the emergency room because it hurt so bad. Now, you are probably thinking right now that I am exaggerating right? Wrong, I am 100% serious. The worst thing about this heartburn is that nothing touches it. TUMS, no! Rolaids, n0! Pepto, no! Mylanta, no! And all of these are the "extra strength" kind. Extra strength my big toe, they don't even make me feel better in the slightest. Sometimes they make me feel more sick because they taste so gross and leave me feeling like I just swallowed a bowl of flavored chalk. Also, this heartburn only happens at night, right before I go to bed. So I feel it coming on, take some medicine (that doesn't help), and wait for the pain to begin. And I often awake in the wee small hours of the morning just hurting dreadfully.

Since the silly chalk medicines didn't seem to be working for my particular case of heartburn, I have sought out home grown remedies. I searched on the internet, while in pain, what remedies others have used that worked. So I swallowed straight apple cider vinegar, didn't work. It made me gag and almost let it all go. I wanted to cry after this attempt to make myself feel better. Then I chugged down a lovely baking soda and water mixture. Not much better than the vinegar. Fizzier, but not much better in taste. Still no results. So, I swallowed ice cold water by the gallons. Not even a smiggen of relief. Plus, it made me have to pee every two minutes. Then came the milk, and the wierd positions I was supossed to lay in to make the "flow" go down. I have taken nice hott showers @ 3:00 in the morning that consist of my laying on the floor of the shower crying and praying for it to just go away. A shower is usually my cure all, and even that didn't do anything.

Usually the symptoms last for about 6 hours or so. All the way through my sleepy time. The shortest has been a nice 2 hour stint. However, one night while I was in Idaho at my in-laws over the summer, it lasted a good 8 hours or more. This was one of the times I begged Bryce to take me to the hospital because I hurt so bad. After it is over, I am usually so tired that I sleep most the day away. Luckily, I am also so exhausted as to forget the lovely pain and go out a few weeks later and order a nice greasy hamburger for dinner. Oh how I love a good hamburger. Almost nothing appeals to me more. (now I did say almost nothing:) So, curse my poor memory and my dreadful love for that delicious american pastime called the burger and fries. Curse you Red Robin for having such delicious burgers that call my name in the quiet hours of the afternoon. Curse you deep fried potatoes, cut "french style, for being so scrumptious. Curses to you all.

This story does have a happy ending. I will get to it shortly.

Of course, the clear cut answer to my woes is to stop the train of grease that is going down my throat. I have tried this avenue, but you remember my memory loss and my love for food. It hinders me. Oh, it hinders me greatly. So, I called on the only person I know that has frequent heartburn (other than pregnant women) that might be able to offer me a solution. My big brother BEN! So, after my horrible battle with this monster in Idaho (which I formentioned), I could take it no longer. I called my brother as a last resort and asked him what I should do. He suggested some of the chalk remedies that I told him didn't work. Then he told me of something that changed my life. Zantac! Yes, you have all heard of it and I had do. So, why oh why, in all my pain and midnight runs to the drug store did I not think to use this? Beats me cookie lee! That very day I went and bought myself the strongest doseage you can buy without a perscirption. I knew that my heartburn was just waiting to return and I was one step ahead of it this time. Sure enough, that very night it returned. I am lucky, in a way, because I can feel it before it comes on strong. This never proved profitable before, but I was hoping that this time it would save me. I quickly took a little pink pill and waited. within an hour or so, I was feeling good! Not perfect, but I was feeling good. I only felt slightly nauseous and my chest was a little tight, but no searing pain. From that day on I have used those blessed Zantac, and they have never failed me . . .

UNTIL TONIGHT!

That cursed Red Robin burger menu drew me in, and on Thursday afternoon I went and indulged. Bryce and I always share a burger and then you get bottomless fries! GREAT, but not so smart. The fries, for some reason or other, were insanely greasy. I promise that I didn't want to eat those piping hot potatoes fried in heartburn breeding grounds, but I did. STUPID NATALI! I am paying for it tonight. I don't know why, but my heartburn seems to hold off a day until I think I am in the clear and, BAM it hits me. I took my little salvation pill and went to bed confident I would feel better soon. Wrong again. I awoke @ 2 a.m. with a burning chest. Now, I am one of those people who takes exactly the recommened dose and I get so worried if I take more of the medicine that it tells me to. But, this night I broke that conviction. I took another of my little pink wonders. It hurt like the devil for another 2 hours or so, but I am feeling a little bit of relief now that the early hours of dawn are creeping up on me. I still hurt, and have considered taking a third pill, but I hope that this will work itself out here soon. By soon I mean at least by 7 or 8 this morning.

So this post goes out to all of you who have felt "the burn." Oh me oh my, how I hurt for you. I have now made a goal (again) not to eat mindlessly. Any suggestions as to how to beat this addiction to bad food, would be so appreciated. I am serious too, I feel as if I am addicted to food that is bad for me. It can't be good if it causes me this much pain. I suppose that my body is trying to teach me a lesson and is crying out for me to take better care of it. How sad that I continue to stuff my face with unhealthy things. *big sigh* Oh where oh where has my common sense gone. Oh where oh where could it be.

I know I said that I had a happy ending, but I guess I have a semi-happy ending. My heartburn is under control for tonight, thanks to medicine. BUT, I could have a much happier ending if I stop the cycle. Here is my resolution in writing. I, Natali Jolley, am going to live a healthier life. That is a good place to start, don't you think.

Halloween Memories

With Halloween quickly approaching, I wanted to write down some memories of Halloween's past. I remember them very well. What stands out the most is that we NEVER had a store bought costume. My mother sewed or put together all of our costumes. I remember wanting to get a store bought costume, but the searching for the costumes was SOO fun. It consisted of going through all my moms fabric, going through every siblings wardrobe, and going through my parents wardrobe. If we couldn't fashion a costume out of what we found in the house, my mother would go to it and sew our costumes.

One year my mom created a LOVELY Jasmine costume for me. She had an old pair of very puffy, very blue, sweat pants that looked just like Jasmines. Then we took an old swimming suit and sewed a little big of trim on it and some puffy sleeves and there was my top. Then, of course I had the perfect hair for Jasmine. When I was young I had long, very black, hair all the way down to my waist. So, no wig for me. It was the perfect costume. And the funniest thing was that same year my oldest brother Ben, who was a junior or senior in High School at this time, was also dressing up as Jasmine for Halloween. My Mom actually sewed him a wig out of black yarn. (at least I think she did)

I went to school in my perfect costume, sure that I was to be the best dressed and get so many compliments on my costume. However, when I got to school a girl named Lindsey Rerucha was also Jasmine. She was a little blonde girl who was quite popular. So, since she didn't have my long hair, she had on a plastic wig. That's not all, she had on the whole entire store bought Jasmine costume. She had the pants, the top, the puffy sleeves, the shoes, EVEN the jewelry. She was genuinely Jasmine. I was devastated. What hurt the most was that kids were actually asking me who I was. They didn't even know that I was Jasmine, but they all knew that Lindsey was. I put my coat on and wore it the rest of the day.

Sad story, but there were many other not sad stories about my Halloween costumes. Like the time when I was Wednesday from the Adams family. That Halloween, everyone knew who I was and I looked just like her. I often used my hair and incorporated it into my costumes. The greatest thing about having such an ingenious mother was that we often had costume changes. I would be a vampire in the morning, and by the evening I was turned into a lovely witch. Or a princess in the morning and rageddy ann by that night.

Here's to you Mother. What a wonderful Halloween costume designer you were. I wish I had you to get me dressed this year, for I promised my Young Women that I would dress up this year. I am actually looking forward to it. But, you can guarantee that I won't be going to the store for my costume, I will be staying right here at home. Thanks for the fun memories Mom!

Those of you who read this post, I tag you! Post a halloween memory from your childhood on your blog. YEAH!