In The Zone...

The past week or so seems to have been a blur.  Part of the family was here for a few days, so we were very busy doing family activities.  I love having the family "home" with me even if it is just for a few days, and even if some of the family could not be here. I will update you with some of our activities as soon as I get photos downloaded.

As has most of the country, we've been dealing with heat.  In this part of the country, we don't have to deal with humidity along with the heat, but we are in the middle of a drought.  I've commented that it is so hot that the only things growing are the weeds.  Anyway, that is how it seemed whenever I looked out at my yard and garden while the kids and grandkids were here.  The weeds had to just keep growing, because this grandma was not going to pull weeds when she had grandchildren around to enjoy.

Family Time

Manitou, Colorado

At the Penny Arcade

Being surrounded by family has a way of making me feel happy and complete.  In fact, I am never quite as happy as I am when I am surrounded by my children and grandchildren.  I think the visits from the past week came at just the right time.  I was ready for some fun times, some joy, some laughter, and some activity around the house.

I know the visit was difficult for my children in many ways.  Julie was not here to join in the fun.  I am sure "the presence of her absence" seemed to be there, just below the surface, for us all at times.  Hopefully the time was also healing, restorative, and memorable for those who could be here at "home."  New memories were made.  New photos were taken.  Many great bonding opportunities  between cousins occurred.  We missed the ones who were not here due to work and busy schedules.

It was terribly hot while everyone was here, but we survived with the help of the A/C and fans throughout the house.

Now, they've all gone home.  I spent Monday washing many loads of sheets and towels.  Today, I tackled the weeds.  One flower bed is looking much better.

We also had the A/C people here today working on an update to the system.  Our multi-level home has never had a heating/cooling system that adequately heated or cooled the upstairs where all the bedrooms are.  When we were working, I don't think it bothered us as much because we weren't home.  Now, my husband and I each have a study on the second floor.  Our bedroom is on the same level.  We have been miserable in our studies on a cold day and on a hot day.  Finally this summer, I decided I had had enough.  It was time to make some changes in our system.

After the bids came in, I got real.  To retrofit the system with an additional heating/cooling system was complicated and expensive.  It would be cheaper to move to a single level home than to add a unit.  Then, one company suggested setting the house up on temperature zones.  Today, they came in and did some work on the duct work, set up three zones in the house, and cool air started pumping upstairs.

I am sitting in my study, and I am cool.  It is 77.9 degrees in our bedroom at 4:15 p.m.  It is 95 degrees outside.  It is never this cool up here in the late afternoon.   I am looking forward to not seeing 80 degrees register on the thermostat when I go to bed tonight!

Today, after enjoying coffee and breakfast with my hubby on the back deck, followed by working in the garden and enjoying a nice lunch my hubby cooked for me (hot dogs from the microwave), I said to my husband, "It is good to be readjusting to retirement again."  He agreed.  It is going to be even better now with our update to the heating/cooling system.

I'm in the zone.  I'm cool.  I'm pain free (for a few days anyway).  After a lecture from my doctor, my therapist, my husband, and my dear sweet daughter Amy, I am also trying to manage my stress better.  Thanks, Amy.  You always seem to have just the right word at just the right time for me.  It is good to be in the zone.

Lately...

Lately, I've been feeling like I have been living in Tornado Alley.  Thankfully, I'm not really living in such a place.  I'm just experiencing storms in my life that seem to feel like tornadoes.  In other words, I've felt as if I, and others I love,  keep getting picked up off the ground, spun around, tossed about, and deposited in a spot that is different from where we were before or where we wish to be.

Actually, I have experienced one real live tornado within the past few weeks.  Perhaps that is where I came up with the analogy for my life of late.  My husband and I decided to get out of town on a Sunday afternoon by heading up to a favorite spot in the mountains near our home.  We envisioned a nice dinner and a walk around the lake.  As we made our way down the highway, the wind started to blow.  The wind always blows in Southern Colorado, so that didn't seem to be a big problem.  Then the wind picked up.  Soon, a large "dust devil" was heading toward the highway.  It crossed the highway as we drove through it.  "I can barely keep the car on the road.  We are in a tornado" my husband said.  I responded with, "Oh, it is just a dirt devil.  It isn't a tornado."  "It felt like a tornado to me," he said.

Sure enough, he was right.  That night on the news we saw a report that three small tornadoes, called down spouts had been spotted in the exact spot where we had been at the same time we had been there.  In fact, someone had a video of the tornadoes they sent to the news station.  I said, "That looks like our car driving through that thing."  He said, "I told you it was a tornado."  Of course the video and news story caused me to feel that perhaps I should not have dismissed the funnel that we saw and called it a little dirt devil.

Small storms can pack a lot of power.  They can catch you off guard.  When they strike, they are not selective in the damage they may cause.  My husband said it was very scary to feel as if the car was going to be lifted off the road and have no power to stop what was happening.

We had our small and large storms this summer as a family.  We are getting tossed about pretty heavily.  These storms are not ones I can share at the moment, but we are ready for them to end.  I'm ready for  outside forces to stop the willful blowing of storms that catch others up in the fall-out of their pernicious behaviors.  It is time for all of us to have some smooth sailing.

Spending Time With #1 Son

This summer, I've been able to spend some time with my #1 son.  I hesitate to call my oldest child and oldest son by the title of #1 Son because some may think that the title denotes favortism.  I assure you it does not.  For some reason, I've just referred to my eldest child as #1 over the years.

My oldest son lives in Utah, so that means we must travel in order to spend time together.  He is a banker who works very long hours during the workweek and commutes an hour each way to work every day.  Needless to say, he is very busy and does not get a lot of time off work.  I try to spend at least a week in Utah every summer and try to make at least one additional trip a year to spend time with him and his family and my daughter and her daughter.  

Ryan at Julie's Service

This year, Ryan made two trips to Colorado to visit.  This was a rare treat for me.  He was here for a few days at Christmas, and then he was here for a few days over the Memorial Day Weekend.  Ryan has been such a strength to me throughout the entire process of settling Julie's estate when it came to taking care of all the financial matters that occur after a death.  I don't know what I would have done without his financial wisdom and knowledge.   I've always valued his financial knowledge when I've turned to him for advice, but his fair and impartial ability to sort through many issues was truly priceless when I needed it in settling a difficult situation.

Ryan is a fun guy to be around.  He has a great sense of humor.  I love his take on life, people, and situations.  He has top notch social skills.  He makes friends easily and keeps them for a lifetime.  He likes to make people laugh and have a good time.

He also loves to cook.  On Sunday morning of Memorial Day Weekend, he got up and fixed breakfast for my husband and me.  Here he is in my apron.  I have others that aren't quite so feminine, but he grabbed the first one he saw before he began to fry up some bacon. 

Later that weekend, after he and I drove to Northern Colorado to stay with my daughters and a friend from Utah who would all be running the Boulder Boulder the next day, he made us some panzanella.  I was quite impressed and thought it was quite yummy, but then, I'm his mom.  

Ryan says cooking helps him relax after a hard day at the bank  Actually, he has always loved cooking.  I remember when he took cooking in junior high, he came home with all kinds of new recipes to try out on the family.

So, when I was in Utah in June, I had the opportunity to enjoy some more of his cooking.

Father's Day Barbecue

Ryan and Stephanie
Father's Day 2011

Ryan checks his email on his phone while others are serving themselves some scrumptious barbecued food he had prepared for a Father's Day celebration.  

  

We had grilled veggies and wonderful spare ribs that had been prepared using Ryan's special sauce.

Cousins, Regan and Gillian initially came to the celebration dressed as Dracula and bride.

Then, they changed outfits and came as bat woman and another wacky bride.  Regan has a belt made from her pajama bottoms and hat made from a cheering pom pom.  Note the make up they applied for this photo.  Don't you just love the RED lipstick?

They are being silly, but I think they will both be beauties someday.  Of course, I'm the grandmother, so I am a bit biased.  Actually, they are already quite beautiful in my eyes.

A shot of them being silly in the back yard.

Bridger has just made me the perfect smore in this photo.

Four of my grandchildren roast marshmallows around the fire pit on Ryan's wonderful back patio.

Summer Solstice Party

My oldest grandson, had a bunch of buddies over for a summer solstice party while I was in Utah.  After the party, he drove me back to my daughter's house a few miles away.  It seems very odd to think that my oldest grandchild will soon have his driver's license.  I was impressed with his driving ability while I was being chauffeured around.

While the kids ate hamburgers and fix-in's out on the patio, Ryan fixed me a perfect hamburger, just the way I like it.

While I was visiting with Ryan and his family, I had the opportunity to go shopping for a few supplies for an upcoming scout trip that he and Parker were taking later that week to the Moab area.  It was a biking, rafting, rock climbing excursion.  Ryan, who earned his Eagle Scout Badge as a young teenager, took some time off work to lead this trip for Parker's scout trip.  It was so great to see his excitement as he prepared for the trip.  It took me back to his days as a scout.  It brought back many happy memories and proud moments when I saw him inducted into the Order of the Arrow during a harrowing lightening, thunderstorm in the mountains of Idaho over 25 years ago.  I've always been proud of his achievement of reaching the rank of Eagle Scout.  It is great to see him now giving back to scouting as he takes his own son and others on scouting trips.  He is following in the footsteps of his paternal grandfather, another Eagle Scout, when he does this.

There are two special memories of Ryan that I  carry with me in my heart.  In both memories, he has the same look of absolute pride and sense of accomplishment.  One was the day he emerged from the workshop in the basement of his childhood home with the first completed birdhouse for his Eagle Scout project. He had constructed it on his own using a power saw.  Pride was written all over his face.  

I saw that same look of pride, accomplishment, and amazement when he emerged from the delivery room carrying his first-born son and my first grandson.  His eyes said, "Mom, look what I've produced!"  These memories, and the ones we continue to make whenever possible, are treasures that become more valuable as each year goes by.

Celebrating Summer

Early in June,  a dear friend invited me to her home to celebrate the awarding of tenure to a mutual dear friend of ours.  It seemed so good to be there among some of the great people who teach in the education department at the University of Colorado Colorado Springs (UCCS) as we joined together to toast a friend and colleague whose hard work and dedication was rewarded with tenure.  In many ways, it was a simple coming together of people I admire greatly, but it also seemed to mark an occasion when I finally felt like I was again doing the things I had always done before my daughter's death last spring.  I even remarked to my dear friend who was hosting the party that I felt as if I were coming out of a long winter and finally walking into summer for the first time in over a year.

I'll never forget the feeling I had as I stood among these friends, serving myself a bit of food.  It was an impression of feeling like myself again.  I remember saying to myself, "This feels like summer.  This feels like the life I once knew."

Sometimes, we take for granted simple get-togethers where someone hosts a barbecue and others attend to share food, drinks, good conversation and friendship.  This year, I was struck by how I had just gone through the motions of attending social functions last year.  I had attended a few social events, but I had not really been free enough in my emotions to be there completely.  I appreciated being included.  I appreciated being remembered.  I just couldn't fully participate in a sustained conversation while I was at a social affair.  My usual sociable self was greatly muted.  My friend's tenure celebration party marked a new step for me in my journey toward healing.

Despite my feeling that I was ready to step into summer's activities, initially early this summer, I had wanted to be away from home for the 4th of July.  I just didn't want to be reminded that I was going to have to go through yet another holiday.  I didn't want to have to wait to see if we had an invitation to a party.  I didn't want to go sit at a fireworks display and remember that much of my way of viewing life had had been irrevocably altered by my daughter's death.  I just wanted to get away and go someplace that was new and different.

In the end, my husband and I did not make plans to get out of town for the 4th.  There just seemed to be too many complications on too many fronts to leave town for a few days and escape into the mountains of Colorado for solitude.  We stayed home and threw ourselves into working on the yard and getting things done at home.

Last week, I called my cousin and asked if she and her daughter who was in town from Arizona would like to celebrate the 4th with us.  There was a fireworks ban in Colorado Springs, so my cousin's grandchildren were not going to be able to see a display.  In fact, because it is so hot in Arizona, they had never seen a fireworks display except at a baseball game.  They were happy to come down and join us.

Jim and I got our game plan going and put together a meal for our guests.  We even fired up the old barbecue grill.  We realized it had been at least two years since we had turned on the grill.  We also realized we had not gone to a fireworks display for at least two years.  Jim had a hip replaced during the summer of 2009 and was recovering over the 4th.  Last year, we watch various displays in the distance from our back porch since I just wasn't up for being in a crowd watching fireworks.

Again, simple things have great meaning.  I made a big potato salad yesterday.  I cried as I cut up the potatoes because I remembered the last time I had made potato salad had been Easter of 2010.  Julie had come to my side, draped her arm on my shoulder and said, "Hi Momacita.  What do you want me to do to help?"   That weekend would be the last time I saw her alive.

Despite a few sad memories, it was good to prepare food for a gathering in my home again.  It was good to look forward to having my cousin and her daughter and grandchildren coming to join us in celebrating a holiday.  It was good to fire up the grill and cook some hamburgers and hot dogs again.

After eating way too much food, we headed out to Pueblo's Riverwalk to listen to the Pueblo Sympathy Orchestra play a mix of Broadway hits and patriotic music.  It was good to see the beautiful display of fireworks light up the sky.  It was good to be a part of celebrating summer and the simple things of life again.

My cousin and her daughter and grandchildren

My cousin and I
with her grandchildren

More Highlights from My Trip to Utah

While I was in Utah, my oldest daughter and I decided to tackle some work that needed to be done in her yard.  Keicha really has an adorable house in a wonderful neighborhood.  The planter near her side door says it all and is a great indicator of the tasteful, colorful, country garden look that she has created in this area of her yard.

No matter how much care we use in planting and caring for gardens, as they grow, we find that there are issues to address.  The lavender grows too big and must be trimmed.  The vines planted by the former occupant of the house keep growing up the brick walls of the house and rock wall built surrounding the house.  So, the two of us put on our gardening gloves and took hold of gardening tools and went to work on trimming and pulling and cutting.  We did this off and on for three days.

Working side-by-side with my daughter in the yard was wonderful.  We both agree that pulling weeds is good for the soul.  We shared some memories of Julie and laughed and cried as we both try to figure out how to live life after the life we knew and loved has been altered forever.  We didn't figure that out.  As a mom, I am just hobbling along trying to set an example of hope while knowing that broken hearts take a long time to heal.

Cutting back lavender and columbines

Keicha supervised by Lucy Lou weeds her vegetable garden

My daughter's vegetable garden, planted near her side door, is doing well despite the lack of sun that they have had in Utah this year.  As I study the photo of her carefully weeding her tomatoes, squash and other vegetables, I am stuck by how quickly life goes by.  I study my daughter, now an adult who owns her own home, has worked at her place of employment for over 20 years, has a daughter who will soon be a teenager, who is working in soil of her home which is located right next door to the doctor who delivered her and all of my other children.  


It seems like life goes by way too quickly.  It seems like just yesterday I was the young mother who just gave birth to this beautiful daughter.  Yet my daughter, now grown, has a neighborly relationship with the older retired man who lives next door who was also the doctor who cared for her before she was born.  

As Keicha works in her garden, I photographed another one of her garden planters.  This one clearly states, "He who plants a garden, plants happiness."  I like the message that this gives.  I like that gardens speak of hope, of joy, of fulfillment, of creativity, and of beauty.  I know that gardens also mean that one must labor and work hard.  They mean that the gardener must be persistent, determined and not be easily discouraged when there is too little sun or too much rain.  We learn much in the garden about life, but mostly I hope that our gardens bring us joy and happiness.  I'm grateful for the little bit of time I had digging in the dirt with Keicha.  I hope I can spend more time in years to come doing just a little work in her garden.  


I must confess we did not spend all of our time working.  We took an afternoon off  from gardening so I could get a pedicure while Keicha ran errands.  Later that afternoon, we went to our favorite spa for wonderful massages and time in the eucalyptus steam room.  We relaxed and enjoyed it so much that we were shocked to find that nearly three hours had passed and it was early evening when we actually left the spa.

We also spent an afternoon at my favorite lunch spot, The Greenery at Rainbow Gardens.  A trip to Utah just wouldn't be complete if I didn't get up to Rainbow.  I had to have a Mormon Muffin for sure.

Keicha

Gillian
Off to Camp

I was also able to spend a little time with Gillian, Keicha's daughter before she went off to church camp. Unfortunately, my visit overlapped the time when she was gone for most of the week, but we had a little time together.  I'm sure she'll be taller than I am by the next time I see her.  I snapped a photo before she headed off to camp with her cool, peace symbol covered bag slung over her shoulder.  Yes, my grandbabies are all growing up way too fast.

Highlights from My Week in Utah

For the past eight days, I spent some time with the Utah branch of the family.  Since four of my seven grandchildren live in Utah, it seems I never get to spend as much time with them as I would like.  They are all growing up way too fast.  It is a treat to spend a few summer days and nights with them.

A Trip to Salt Lake on the Train 

A week ago Friday, my daughter-in-law, three of the grandchildren, and I took FrontRunner, the Utah Transit Authority train, from Ogden to Salt Lake City to meet my son for dinner before my granddaughter's gymnastics meet.  As a railroader's daughter, I jump at the chance to take a train ride.  The kids weren't as enthusiastic about the ride.  It takes too long in their estimation.  My daughter-in-law and I sat back and enjoyed the stress free commute that meant that we didn't have to have two vehicles in SLC.

We had dinner at a fun new restaurant in SLC's new City Creek development called The Blue Lemon.  (Click to read an interesting review from the Salt Lake Tribune.)  It was the perfect place to go for quick dinner for the family.  Not only was the food good, but the setting is fun.  

My son wanted to show me the big development of this area that has been underway for the past few years, so after dinner, we crossed the street for a quick walk through the gardens surrounding the Joseph Smith Building and then back across the street again to the Zion Bank building so we could see the development from my son's office window.  

It is after hours, so my son is not in his banker's garb, but he did indulge his mother by posing at his desk for a photo.

Below is the view from his office.  Those of you who may remember Salt Lake City from the past will recognize this building as the old Hotel Utah.  It is now the Joseph Smith Building.  I once climbed out on the balcony near the top of this building through a window of a ballroom or banquet room with an adventurous boy friend.  That was long ago, but it makes for a good story to tell the grandchildren.  I doubt they believe me as I tell them the story.

Our whirlwind tour of the Temple Square area is over quickly because we need to get to Miss Regan's State gymnastics tournament.

Regan with Hand on Hips
Conferring with Coach

Regan
Practicing 

I didn't have a good camera with me to capture my granddaughter's events very well, but I was able to get a few shots to mark the occasion.  

Since #1 grandson is 15 and has his learner's permit, he wanted to drive home.  For me, that was a stern reminder that my grandchildren are growing up way too fast.  Son Ryan decided that since it was dark, the car was full, and grandma, known for her reputation as a backseat driver, was in the car, he would be the driver for the trip home rather that Parker.  

This evening was such a treat for me.  I have too few of such times with my family.  Even though Utah and Colorado are right next door to each other, it is at least a 14 hour drive from my house to my son or daughter's house.  A flight takes a little over an hour and a half in the air, but air travel also means a trip to Denver or Colorado Springs from my house and a trip to Salt Lake from their homes.  I try to suffice with at least a yearly visit, but always wish for more.

Thinking of My Dad

I'm in Utah staying with my daughter.  My granddaughter is downstairs making a Father's Day card for her father.  Since my father is no longer living, I no longer have the opportunity to tell him how important he was to me, or how important he remains in my life.

A Tribute To My Father

A Photo of My Father
A Peace Rose from My Garden

The day I was born, my father had to drive my mother to the hospital and then leave for Denver so he could be processed into the army.  At age thirty, he was drafted.  Uncle Sam still needed men, so despite his age and the fact that he had a wife, a child, and another child on the way, he was called up and shipped out.  He liked to say Hitler gave up when he heard my father had joined the army.  In truth, he never went overseas to fight.  He spent his time stateside working as a clerk.  He missed the first year of my life.  I'm sure I missed a lot not having him there also.  I've always loved this photo taken when my father came home from the service in 1946.

It seems difficult to write a narrative about this man who was my father.  I cannot be objective on the subject because I am his daughter and I adored him.  I thought he was terribly funny.  He was funny.  He had a dry wit and could think of the greatest puns.  He had the greatest sense of humor and told the best stories.  He always made me laugh.

I could listen to his stories forever as he drove through the beautiful mountain passes of Colorado.  He knew so much Colorado history.  He loved his native state of Colorado and taught us to protect her beauty.  We spent many happy hours camped along beautiful clear Colorado streams in the summer.  We were taught to always leave our campsite better than we found it.  We were taught not to leave a trace that we had been there.

My father was a reader.  He loved to read.  I learned to love to read because I wanted to be a member of his club.  Reading was such an important part of his life.  He could never understand people who didn't like to read.  He always had a book at his side.  As he got older and suffered from diabetes, he was so grateful for the lending library in Denver who sent him large print books on a very regular basis.

He also liked to write.  He wrote long letters to his children and his mother.  He wrote family histories.  He compiled family genealogy.   He wrote narratives about his childhood memories in Colorado Springs.  He had a large correspondence that he maintained with family members throughout the country who also worked on family genealogies.  I wonder if he would have written a blog.  I wonder what he would think of mine.  He submitted some of his writing about various topics to be kept in the archives of his alma mater, Colorado College.

Actually, Daddy never graduated from Colorado College.  He quit after marriage during the depression when he only had a few hours left to complete.  I don't know if he ever regretted quitting college with so few hours left to complete.  He went to work for the railroad and worked there his entire life.  He started as a clerk and retired as regional manager.  He was always grateful for the good life the railroad gave him, and the good retirement.  He followed his father's footsteps in working for the railroad.  His father was a telegrapher.  I am a railroader's daughter and have always loved the way my life was intertwined with railroad history and lore.  I love my memories of growing up riding on trains.

My father was a generous man.  He was one to always want to help those who might have a legitimate need.  The day before he died, we were gathered in his room talking to a nurse who was sharing her story of fighting cancer and how hospice was such a Godsend to many.  She told of her struggle to get well and to keep working.  We thought Daddy was not aware of what was being said that night.  When the nurse left the room, he said, "Mother, make sure you write a check as a gift to that nurse.  She needs some help."

Daddy was a strong Christian.  He had been a drinker, had a temper, and swore like a trooper when we were younger.  In his early 60's, he gave his life back to the Lord.  The transformation was obvious to all who knew him.  One of my favorite memories is remembering how mother would read the Bible to him every night before he went to bed in the last years of his life.  When he died, he was ready.  He kept saying he wanted to go and be with the Lord.

He was not a perfect man.  He scared off every boyfriend I ever had, or tried to scare them off.  He had a short fuse.  He was demanding.  I always said his bark was worse than his bite.

He worked hard.  He earned a good living and provided well for us.  He was not overly demonstrative.  He did not express his emotions of tenderness.  He was a product of his generation.  Men went to work and earned the money.  Women stayed home and raised the kids.  He expected good behavior out of us, and I lived in fear of disappointing him and bringing on his wrath.

Some of my most precious memories are of his final days on this earth.  I spent the last days at his bedside.  My sisters and my oldest son were there much of the time.  It was a blessing to be there and try to ease those last days that he spent in a body that had been broken down by diabetes and congestive heart failure.

I held those hands that I had always loved a lot of time.  I tried to memorize how they looked so I would remember all they had done for me throughout my life.  They had dug out a basement below our house.  They had remodeled more than one house that we lived in.  They had painted many walls and pounded many nails.  They had caught many fish.  They had held many books.  They had written many letters, memos, and narratives.  They had typed papers in the army on old fashioned upright typewriters and learned to write on a computer.  They had spanked my bottom on a few occasions.  They had been manicured by me when I was younger.  I loved to give manicures, and he was a willing subject.  I miss holding my daddy's hand.

I long ago forgave him of his shortcomings.  I've tried to live my life in such a way as to make him proud.  When I was working, I always used him as my role model on how to conduct myself in the workplace.

He was my daddy.  I was his Sally Lou.  I remember when he died that I was filled with absolute certainty that he loved me, that he was proud of me, and that seemed to be enough for both of us.

Graduation Day
B.S. in Business Administration
Mother & Daddy at My Side