Chopping wood and hauling water

I walked tonight. The walk is so important. We got drenched, Andi and I. My children couldn't believe how wet I was when I came in the door. Rich is fixing the sink and so the water is turned off in the house. A warm shower is indefinitely postponed. So I'm writing. Writing is also important. Yesterday I went on a walk with my children for Mother's Day. It took us an hour to walk to the temple. We didn't talk about anything that we'll remember, but they all want to take that walk again next week. Douglas carried David on his shoulders up the steepest part - from Vineyard to Bountiful blvd. I was amazed. I have charming children. They deserve a cleaner house, a quieter mother and more help with their homework. Yet, they stick around. When school is out I'm going to try to walk to Mueller Park twice a week. It's my favorite walk. It quiets my brain. Tonight it's still pretty noisy. I guess I didn't walk long enough. But remember how it was raining? We built a fire in the backyard tonight and roasted hot dogs and marshmellows. I make the kids eat the 40 cal wieners. (That sounds funny.) They aren't very good. But then there are calories left over for nutella smores. My hair smells like campfire. The water is off in the house. Rich is fixing the sink. We haven't had running water in the sink for about 2 weeks. Yesterday my grandma LaRue told me she hauled water to her house from a well that was 8 miles away. They put it in a huge barrel next to the house. One day when she was about 10 or so she was climbing down a ladder next to the barrel, carrying her cat. She dropped the cat into the barrel on accident and never told a soul. The family drank from the barrel - including her. She said maybe that's what stunted her growth - the cat water. I love her. I've been hauling water in from the bathroom, and we don't have any cats. I'm blessed.

Roar Lion

It's March 1st tomorrow and I can't count the reasons to be excited. Ok, maybe I can....
1. This month the musical will open at the jr high and it will be the end of an era.
2. Jan and Feb say Winter, but March says Spring
3. The light is coming soon....
4. On St. Patrick's day I'll get to watch Waking Ned Divine and eat green food.
5. I have so much going on at school this month, festivals and concerts and it will be done and April and May will be all about planting a garden and painting the house. YIPPEEEEEE!!!!
6. Probably someone will call this month and tell me how our family will be spending the summer. Probably.
7. Douglas's show will also be over... here's to more scheduled simplicity.
8. March 1st means that April 1st is next and that means.... ASILOMAR!
Ok, only 8 reasons, but they are all about anticipation and completion and SPRING! After denying the powerful effect that winter has on my psyche for the last 3 months, I can finally admit to how happy I'll soon be because it's spring. I opened a new bottle of dill today and squealed with joy because it smelled like dirt. I haven't planted a garden for two years because of our summer plans, but this year, I don't care. I'm planting - and will either go and leave it to struggle alone, or stay and serenely care for it. But I'm digging in the dirt for sure. Spring's not so lonely. People will want to be outside so much, that they'll cook out there even. And there's light. Light in the morning and light in the evening. Begging us to stay awake and get up and come and play. Orion will be lost to the western sky soon. He comes every winter to keep watch I think. If winter gets too wild one season I think he'll use that sword and tell winter what's what. But he moves, and the moving reminds me that time is surely passing. I remember watching Orion in the warm California evenings. I didn't realize then that it was Winter. Why don't I go someplace warm? Why do I stay where there are 3 months of certain emotional sleeping? Maybe it's for the dill. And Orion. So I can anticipate and wait and awake. Maybe I'll wake up for real someday and move to Arizona.

Red berries are the key

I have certainly decided that I need to take more pictures and figure out how to work all of this better, but in the meantime - I needn't stop writing because I don't know how to make it look pretty. That will come. I'm sure.
Today is Dec 25, 2009. Christmas day - well, night now. It was a magical holiday. Really. As a family we found ourselves involved with Savior of the World again. Maybe that will warrant it's own post soon, but in the meantime - I want to say that I love the simplicity that being involved brings to the holiday. It makes me feel like anything else I accomplish in addition to being in the show is in the bonus.
I love winter decorations. I love my living room and the cozy, cozy feelings there. I discovered this year that just about anything looks better with red berries. Eucalyptus, pine cones, the tree itself, garland, and on and on. Everything had red berries, and I still was wanting more. We had a charming evening last night with Rich's family and dressing the children for the traditional nativity. I think the costuming takes 3 or 4 times longer than the actual performance. It's splendid. We came home and Rich built a fire - MUCH to the children's delight. We discovered that you can roast mini marshmellows on shishkabob sticks and they are delish in hot chocolate. I read ALL of the Christmas books to David by the fire, and the older children settled in with us one at a time. They just couldn't resist. In the morning Rich got the fire going again and we commenced the Christmas Opening. Rich's parents joined us after a little while. Cinnamon rolls and stocking treats for breakfast, and then up to the Nelsons. We opened some more and then ate breakfast for lunch. We went sledding - just couldn't resist a chance to go to Happy Hollow with Rich. And then back to watch a movie on mom and dad's new giant television. To Nichols for dinner and a lot of joyful chaos. 53 people. The whole family was there. First time in years. Years. And then I found myself wandering home with David. I came in and wanted to take down the decorations so that I would be sad to put them away and not anxious. So, with the ipod playing John Denver and the Muppets Christmas on the new ipod home that Rich and the kids got me, I started putting red berries away. Taking Christmas down is kind of like taking off a heavy coat. The rooms seem to have more flexibility and can breathe easier. But it's colder. Certainly. A friend brought a breathtaking centerpiece and it will stay. Hopefully it will last until the middle of February when we are close enough to spring to feel hopeful. In the meantime, I'll leave it as a reminder of the beauty of those pines and berries and cozy light. It's magical to dress up the darkness with flecks of light and drops of color. I'm grateful to know that Christmas is as close as the top shelf of the garage.
Until then - I'll dream of dirt and yellow blossoms.

Life lessons from Punkin Carvin

1. You have to be willing to be up to your elbows in slime.
2. Sometimes you may need a little help getting started. And then in the middle. And help finishing too.
3. Beautiful comes with a bowl of goop.
4. A plan is handy, but not completely necessary.
5. Put a light in something and it will glow.
6. Sometimes teeth fall out.
7. Everyone has their own method. Let them be.
8. It's harder than you remember, but prettier too.
9. The sooner you clean it up, the less likely it is to be permanent.
10. There's a great view from the porch.

Enough.

From Aug 10 -Nov 20, Rich will have been home for 14 days and gone for 88. It's old. And tonight I am definitely lonely.
The end.

Singin In The Rain

I almost didn't direct my most favorite show to date in my short directing career. I'm sure if I thought longer I could phrase that more elegantly. After directing Beauty and The Beast in 2008, I decided the family needed a break. Not because of Beauty and The Beast in particular, but just because of the time involved and various other needs. I told our new principal that I wouldn't be directing the following year, but I would help him find someone to do it if he would like. I went to Nauvoo (2008) thinking I wasn't doing a show and that put me at ease daily. We decided to be in Savior of the World that fall with Rich and the three older kids and I didn't think I was doing a show, and that put me at ease hourly. In January, the director we found was putting auditions together and I was helping with logistics and I was at ease. And then she had to quit. And I was for the first time in 9 months - not at ease. But it was important that I step up and do it, and somehow I knew that. I also knew I needed to change the show that had been planned, but I didn't know what to do instead. It came to me in a lightening bolt moment while I was taking a bath. And then people came pouring in to my rescue. Kathryn McCann choreographed, along with JD Stokes and Marilyn Montgomery. (Who knew she would say "YES!") Robyn Mortensen was at my beck and call to solve various problems that arose. Becky Hanks agreed to be the costumer (a HUGE task) and Matt Dickamore helped me come up with a design scheme that helped me sleep nights. Rich of course was my set builder. My dad was the brilliant film maker. And I got to work with probably the most talented group of students I will see in 10 years. At least. We did nothing else during the months of Feb, Mar and April. But we made movies, and we made it rain on stage. Douglas, Jessie and I worked on it all through spring break while Rich was out of town. We came up with an adequate system. He came back and in about 20 minutes had a system going far superior to ours - of course. But I'd like to think that D and J and I are the closer for it. These kids danced and danced and danced. And we got each of them an umbrella and these wonderful parents came and put dots on all of them for the final number. Need one? I'm sure that in 3009 we'll still have a stash somewhere. Jenny's Emma got to be in it and she was star struck I think. Becky made french dresses out of milk jugs and we bought tap shoes for the leads and they tapped and tapped. We had a gorgeous yellow umbrella and torn tux shirts and a THOUSAND colored shirts. We danced on desks and on stairs and hung windows in midair. Diane painted a sunset. There was a cake with a girl inside, and talking pictures. This was a show that had flavor. There was (is) a pink piano. And maybe more than one flavor. Maybe more than 10. There were afternoons that I drove home and just sobbed because I was so overwhelmed or felt like my efforts were for naught. But in the end, I was grateful that it had all happened. And I was grateful it happened the way it did. It was important that I not worry over it all summer, fall and Christmas. It was a mountain. And we stood on the top. I wonder now in what ways I am different or better off.... Is it the kids that are different or better off..... ??? Now, almost 6 months later, what are we left with? Memories and photos? What do they mean exactly? It's passed. Shows disappear. Other fine art can be hung on a wall, played on a stereo, shown again and again on the silver screen. Theater evaporates. It can't be claimed. I love that.

"Education is not the filling of a pail, but the lighting of a fire." - Yeats

Glorious leaves.

This morning I found myself telling my girls that I would take them for a drive to see the leaves in the canyon, for if we didn't go today, we would surely miss the glory. I was a little surprised to hear the words coming from my mouth because to be honest, the house is at a new low as far as steady chaos goes, and we were only a few hours from church starting, and well - I just didn't think carefully about it - and yet, I heard the promise coming out of my mouth and into their hopeful ears. The girls scrambled to get ready for church and to help David (Douglas had a commitment and had already left). We drove up Emigration Canyon and then left at the stop sign to take us to East Canyon, through Morgan and Weber Canyon and home again. It took about 2 hours. We listened to music in the car and talked about the gorgeousness we saw around us. We remembered going to the zoo on different occasions and wondered what it was like for an elephant to live in a cage, and I told them about Ruth's Diner and how if they wanted to really make me happy when I was old, they could take me there for every breakfast the year I'm 90. We saw I-80 from a distance and all three of them wondered how the week would be different if we just kept driving and ended up in Nauvoo. What does it look like there in the fall? There was plenty of roadkill to gawk at and even a few brave squirrels who wanted to cross in front of us. East Canyon brought talk of fishermen and Bear Lake and remembrances of fun times on the lake. The girls debated the pros and cons of living in Morgan as opposed to Bountiful, and we remembered relaxing at camp outs in Zarahemla. We talked about the many soccer games played in Eden and Mt. Green, and how every time we drive by with dad he reminds us that he wants to live there someday. We squeaked into church just as it was starting and we felt like we were prepared to sit and be grateful for the glory of our lives and the glory of the leaves.
"Though a tree grow ever so high, the falling leaves return to the ground" - Mayalan Proverb