Nice, nice day. The weather is supposed to return to nasty the rest of the week. I thought it was rather kind of the Lord to take pity on the Weblos leaders who needed to make a tent from a tarp and then teach the boys how to do it.

The kids are a bit big for tickle tussles, but I humored them, chasing them all over the house while they screamed like little girls. It was rowdy fun that was sure to end with someone hurt crying, but it didn't. When it was time for bed, I simply set the timer for 10 minutes with the promise that anyone up when it rang would be folding clothes- two big batches.

I just told Scott that I am looking at purchasing a pygmy goat doe. He's not too happy about it. I think it would make a nice, little lawn mower. I could make a little portable enclosure with a little, doghouse-ish house in it. I would think Scott should be relieved that I don't plan on force feeding the family goat milk.

We took Preya to the nursing home, but came right home instead of trekking out to Terreton in a blizzard. I would rather not be blown off the road in the desert tundra sporting nylons, heels; towing children and dog. I'm hungry for my mother's cooking, but not crazy.

It was great fun to listen to Norma chatter with excitement over the dog, and then over Charlotte who gives her a hug every time. She doesn't usually make any sounds, just smiling; holding our hands as we walk. It's a win/win for us to go even if it is a bit of a hassle. The residents get a bit of attention while my children learn a bit of compassion. Plus, my children are less likely to claw each others' eyes out if we're not home all Sunday afternoon...... in a blizzard......... at the end of March.

So, I have to wonder who you are. Why do you peek in on my life? There are so many blogs; so much information.

And then, I have to wonder why I would write at all. Why should it matter? Why is having a voice so satisfying?

Everything is well, again, at my house- my definition of well being that Scott drives himself around, and my whole existence does not seem to hinge on a set of labs, or the next unexpected phone call. Perhaps, I can even start again pretending to have control in the same way everyone else pretends to have control. Who knows but that my playing house/playing sane might turn into the real thing.

I'm not talking to you until after you go to school.

Morning is not my best time. Actually, neither is evening. Lately, I think I peak at about 2pm for about 15 minutes, and then the rest of the day is just shot. Thank goodness, I finished the taxes in those 15 minutes.

Things really are getting better at my house. There's a general feeling of relief and release. It's not unlike the feeling of cold water being poured on my scrambled, fried brains; not entirely comfortable, but better. I promise, I won't complain for the lack of a happy medium here, because I'm just so happy to be away from the most severe of the extremes.

Special thanks for the dinners. They tasted fabulous, and were high calorie to boot.

I haven't shopped like that since Scott was on chemo; when I was so desperate that I would pay anything for something the man would eat. So, my freezer is now full of potstickers, lasagna, chicken pot pies, precooked seasoned chicken, creamies, juices, and anything else I could find that was high calorie without any vegetable content. The situation is critical with the man looking disturbingly similar to an Ethiopian refugee. Well, I can guarantee that someone will be gaining weight. Pffft......

The deal was if she pulled her own teeth I would buy her a carmel shake. So, I took Naomi out to lunch while Scott was getting IV fluids. It saved me having to pay the dentist, and gave us some much needed one-on-one. She thinks we need to do it every week. I told her she doesn't have that many teeth.

Charlotte just told me that Preya pooped in the Larsen's house. I told Mindy she wasn't housetrained. She is a sweet dog, though. Scott says she walks fast. Scott needs to walk faster, so that's a good thing.

I could just kiss that bus driver.

I am doing taxes, today. Unfortunately, in the mishmash I have lost the w-2's, 1099's, and all that blahdiyadda the government deems necessary. I've kept busy sorting receipts, and prayed that they would magically show, but no. I am going to have to take drastic action. Yes, I am going to have to clean my house.

Scott is doing better. The medication seems to be working, but the metallic taste makes it almost impossible for him to eat. The dr has re-prescribed an appetite stimulant.

I am also having the brakes fixed on the van, today. Is it just me, or do my brakes seem to be wearing out all the time? I'm beginning to wonder if there is something wrong with the way I drive.

We think Scott might have c-diff or CMV, so things aren't exactly settling down as much as I would like, but I'm over thinking I have any control. It's almost easier once you give up control. You just float, more or less, and trust that God will take care of it.

Honestly, I am not really very fond of floating. I'm just tired and need a good cry to reset my attitude. There's nothing wrong with that.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-x_-TQivCx8

I tried to embed a video, but am too technically challenged to figure it out, so I left the address. No, I cannot figure out how to link it, either, so you are stuck with a copy and paste. It is about Mormons and why we have temples. I thought it was excellent and wanted to share.

I've pulled out my grit, and am ready to go to scouts. I really, really do not want to go. But, being sucked dry already, what harm can it do? If you are a warm body that can at least make it there, the Lord is often merciful shoveling grace in to fill the cracks. Being an empty shell leaves a lot to fill, but I'll be there.

Shovel away.

Thanks, Jan, for writing us even when things are so crazy. We think of you often and love you tons.

I am trying to gather tax stuff for turbo tax, and tempted to just haul it all into an accountant. Sigh........

I went to support Adele while my nephew's fiance took out her endowment, yesterday. I got seriously snotty sneezed on. You would have died barfing or laughing. I was giggling/gagging. Oh!

Adele brought up the temple quilt she has been working on forever for the wedding. Her fingers have split and would not have had it finished by next weekend. I had friends come over, and we had an old fashioned quilting bee. It was a good time for everyone.

I made homemade chicken noodle soup for Adele and family. It wasn't as good as yours, but nourishing/nurturing all the same.

My neighbor has black lab puppies. The kids and I were trying to soften Scott into letting us get one, but he would prefer a smaller dog. So I have been looking at shelties which are little Lassie dogs, only I want one with shorter hair. We found one in Cedar City, but don't know anyone headed down and back that way. If you happen to hear of anyone who could conveniently bring back a small, trained dog, please let us know. There's also one in Willard at a shelter, but it is younger and not likely trained. We'll see.

Much love,
Brenda

"So, I said, "Because you're verbally abusive. It's wrong, and nobody should have to put up with it." And he said, "But why?" and I used your broken record routine. I said it again just as we practiced, and he went away."

I'm so proud of her.

Many thanks to the rescue quilters at my house, tonight, who saved my sister's sanity.

"He said, "You don't do your hair fancy, and you don't wear makeup. Do you always do what your parents say? You're just a Molly Mormon. Why do you have to be so good all the time?" And then he said, "Your mom doesn't wear makeup. Your dad wears a bowtie. Your parents are so mean, they don't even let you dye your hair." He was yelling it across the bus."

Did you agree with him? You should tell him he's absolutely right. He totally forgot to say that your father is a computer geek whose original liver lives in a jar. There are so many things to tease about. That's all he could come up with? You're good all the time? Now that's severe. Next time, tell him that your mom is only being true to her inner Mahana, and could beat up his dad any day.

I don't usually intervene, but he's been aggressively teasing her since second grade and has started exhibiting some stalking behaviors. So, I called the school's transportation department. He's not supposed to be riding her bus, anyway.

There's an art seminar tonight. If Scott feels well enough, we'll go to dinner with the guest artist and the other teachers, and their wives. This would mean I have to abandon my Mahana, and wear something besides yoga pants. I'm hoping just a bit that he is too smashed to go.

Wow. I saved so much by going to Sam's Club. I am going to really enjoy that dishwasher detergent for all it cost me- $179.80. Yes, I suppose I also needed cooking oil, and tortillas, and milk, and cheese. No, it probably wasn't the best idea to get so much of each, but I wanted to make it worth the trip. It just feels like I spent a lot on dishwasher detergent, because that was the only thing I really needed right now.

Scott's a bit discouraged that he is not feeling any better than a man sent through the wringer, but his labs look wonderful. I don't know what he's expecting- it's only been three weeks today since he had surgery. You'd think he'd milk it a bit. Maybe that 14 months not working and spending 24/7 with me traumatized him into working as much as he can no matter how big that incision is.

I have to be careful of what I pick up. If the book is too big, I am up till sunrise. Three hundred pages to midnight is just right- I can still function in the morning and yet, feel satisfied with having escaped for a good bit of the night.

"Sophie, I know something that will calm us down......... cleaning the toilets."

I hadn't thought it possible, but Weblos has broadened my definition of purgatory.

We had a wonderful family home evening at my parent's. The kids would pick an ancestor off the pedigree chart, and Mom would tell us the stories she had compiled. Very fun.

They had hauled him off, luring him out of the house with the promise of a turkey dinner, to the nursing home; cleaned out his house, and filled the dump with freezers and freezers of the miser's hoarded meat stash. He was a miserable man, but he had the last laugh. When he died, they read his will to find that his money was in the frozen parcels labelled "fish".

It was years ago. I don't know why I was thinking about it, but it still makes me laugh. I love, love that it is absolutely a true story.

Honestly, I thought God had lost His grip on the situation when the artery dissected, and then was absolutely convinced of this when they couldn't bypass the artery and just tied it off. The situation was so thick, I could not see the miracle, and panicked. And so, I did what any reasonable person would do: I screamed bubbles, face down, into the mud of it. Maybe, it just seemed too easy to roll over and look up.

I've thought a lot about the priesthood blessing Scott received before surgery, and admittedly, am embarrassed that I did not have a bit more faith. He was promised that there would be such a miracle that the Drs would not be able to deny that God had intervened; that he would recover quickly, and live to testify of Jesus Christ the rest of his life.

So, here we are. Scott's liver labs are still picture perfect. On a limited basis, Scott is back to work. Already, it's almost as if nothing happened. It feels a bit like we've been through the spin cycle, set out to dry, but not much worse for the wear of it. No, I don't think anyone can argue but that God truly has intervened on our behalf.

For me, it all serves as a rather harsh reminder to wait for the miracle; stop, drop, roll it over to the Lord, and breathe. The miracle is there. It's always there. Just wait for the miracle.

Seriously, I am eating absolutely everything I can, and Scott is still losing weight. Pfttt.....

I was not expecting a call from Dr Hopkin's nurse. I had forgotten all about those biopsies. And before she could tell me they were safe, the blood left my head and the room swam.

I hate that all it takes is one phone call to derail any false sense of security or illusion of control. Pfffft...

Scott's at work. If all goes as planned, he will have stayed 6 hours, today. So far, so good.

I dropped Scott off at the college, this afternoon. All went well. He's tired, but not completely smashed- much better than I had expected.