A Musing Mother 6

Dear Gina (in Australia), Amy (in Africa), Tiffany, Tonia and Anna (in Texas), This is my dog, Sunday. She is a Labrador. The snow has swallowed her legs. Here she is again. The Ladies are in the coop. They are sad because they like to free range and eat grass.  First one to heat up the hot tub and clear off a spare bed gets me as a house guest for the next 10 weeks. And Sunday. Don't tell my husband or the kids. With love and affection from Utah, the freakin' greatest snow on earth , Nancy

Just in case you missed it (and there's a pretty good chance you did because I only sent out Christmas cards to people I had easy access to their addresses - a.k.a. - last year's Christmas cards), consider yourself included in receiving my Christmas card! TaDAH! Incidentally, Scott's head still hurts a lot. Alyssa was offered at least one full ride scholarship to one college. Also, no segue whatsoever but I saw my friend that got chickens the same time I did and asked her, "What are you doing with your anxiety disorder? Umm. I mean, your chickens?" I did a quick save, though. Or maybe dug a little deeper. I concluded aloud that, when given the option of therapy or getting chickens, therapy is cheaper. That said, I'd get the ladies if given the choice all over again. We're nearly at the tipping point of evening out the cost of the two choices. Gathering eggs is like having Christmas all year long. It never gets old nor ceases to surprise and amaze me when I

One of the great blessings I've enjoyed over the past few years is that I worked at a school that provided a daycare for the young mothers. Additionally, for an hourly fee, faculty and staff could bring their children. I worked at that school from the day I threw up for the first time (signalling my pregnancy and setting the precedent for an unfortunate condition called "hyperemesis" - all four pregnancies, thankyouverymuch) to one year after my youngest child did not need daycare thanks to public school.  Within a couple of years of working at this school, we had a dramatic department turnover. One of the best decisions we made was to interview a retired counselor from Arizona who just couldn't get enough BYU blue and moved closer to the Cougars. We were immediately charmed and I was fortunate to work with him for many years as a colleague and a dear friend. Robert also invested in a high quality Santa suit and pulled it out every Christmas season to play his part, g

I keep my political leanings to myself but I will share at least this much; on occasion I turn on the radio and listen to a political radio show and argue with the host in my car. They irritate the crap out of me. Those are the ones who are either far right or far left.  I will circle back in a minute.  I wrote a post about the horrific tragedy in Connecticut and decided to not post it. It was understated and emotional. Like the vast majority of America, I was beyond shocked and spent Friday afternoon crying in front of the television. Nothing I say could match the intense emotion of how I feel. So I chose to grieve.  A year or two ago I met a woman with a heavy German accent. She told me she grew up in a village outside of Munich. I mentioned I'd been through Munich to small village called Dachau. She looked chagrined. It was a concentration camp during WWII. Nothing was written in English except one phrase, "Those who do not remember the past are destined to repeat it."

I met Heidi in college. I didn't like her. She was cute, skinny, and popular. All the things I abhorred in other girls. So we became best friends and had the best two years of our lives. Then I ran off to the other side of the state and she transferred to another school and got married. Unfortunately for her education, she was exceptionally fertile. Enter baby boy. While I was still finishing up my bachelor's degree, she discovered she was STILL exceptionally fertile. I can still see the telephone, hooked into the wall as I played with the ugly orange patterns on the sofa when she glumly announced, "I'm pregnant. Again!"  I clapped my hands in glee. Baby girl arrived a couple of weeks before her oldest child celebrated his first birthday. It's a few years later. That particular baby girl is now expecting her first child and Heidi is practicing saying the word, "Grandma." Between those two episodes, I kept going to school, finally got married, had fou