Heaven

 For three summers of my life, I lived here:

 In HEAVEN!!

 I fell into this quite by accident.  I had moved home to assist my Dad with taking care of his livestock while he did some healing.  Now, if you know my Dad, you know that he is not the kind to sit quietly by and allow someone else to take care of the livestock while he heals.  So I quickly came to the conclusion that I was a bit superfluous.  However, I'd quit my job, given up my house, and basically completely vacated my life before the move home, so it was obviously necessary to start a new life.  So I did.  I moved to Logan UT ( my version of HELL) and into an apartment with some girls I didn't know at all because the rent was good.  Most of my roommates turned out to be great, and one of them said to me:  "You should come work in Jackson with me this summer!"
Keep in mind that I was in the process of building a new life, and a summer in Jackson sounded like fun, so I agreed to apply for the job.  I was offered the position, and took it looking forward to a great adventure.  I was told that I would be cooking, working with horses, and living in the "Big House"  I'm sure I was told more than that, but that's all I really remember. . . so that must have been all I was told right?
I don't remember anyone ever telling me that I would meet life long friends like these:
This is Seth.  Definitely a kindred spirit.  We could laugh together, talk for hours, and he and I were always able to tell when the other needed a sanity talk. After all, living in the big house with 20 to 30 single people between the ages of 16 and 25 can take it's toll on a 26 and a 29 year old.  :)

 This is Deb.  She was not only one of my roommates my first year in hell, but she was the one person who could tell that little brat exactly what all of us were thinking and have "Kio" or "Tourettes" laughing and thanking her and telling her just how funny she was. . . I have GOT to figure out how she does that. 

 Right to left, we have Janette also known as Netters, Megan also known as "the Loud one" and Jenny who we only ever called Jenny.  This picture was taken at the beginning of my second summer on a trip out to Jenny Lake and String Lake in Grand Teton National Park.  (yes I was within a day trip distance of 2 count them 1, 2, national parks. yes I did get an all parks pass.) Jenny Lake is still one of my favorite places in this entire world.  When I feel stressed or upset, I just want to go to Jenny Lake and stare across the water as it laps at my feet and watch the mountains. 

 The other National Park:  This is John John, Netters, and myself at the geysers of Yellowstone.  Netters I love to pieces, and John John is the first person I've ever found who is an INFJ just like me!  I had begun to think I was all alone in the world.  But John proved me wrong.  No wonder he just seems to "get" me.  I'm so glad he found his sweet Celeste. 

I also don't remember anyone ever telling me that I would have unbelievably long work days, that nights in the big house could often be far too loud to be conducive to sleeping, and that sometimes on my days off, even though i really wanted to get out and enjoy the miracle of where I lived, I would instead do this: (Wow that was a really long sentence.)

 

 I'm certain that no one told me I would have my own name for "Bud" and "Moran"  or "Chick" and "Clay" or even "Ginger" and "Dixie".  And I'm positive no one told me that some of those names would involve words you wouldn't want your two year old saying in front of the Bishop.  I definately don't remember being told that I would be cooking outside in snowstorms like this:  Sorry it's sideways. . . I'm having a hard time figuring out how to flip it. . . .stupid technology!

This is how wet my "water proof" hat got just walking out to that there wagon and back!  BRRRR.

I KNOW no one ever told me I would lose more than one screw and have to go searching through the nasty garbage cans for them. . . . Oh wait, that wasn't me. . . he he he Love you guys.  

I know that no one told me that my second summer, I would loose two nieces and that I would cry my eyes out till I felt so puffy and ridiculous I just wanted to hide.  No one told me that I would have friends that would assure me that "it's ok to cry." and I would say "no it's not I'm gonna look like a red balloon with eyes!" No one told me that those wonderful friends in an effort to help me through my grief would go buy me flowers and a red balloon and put eyes on it so I wouldn't be the only one.  Nope no one told me that.  How could they have known?

No one told me that my third summer I would bring my favorite person in the world to meet all my good friends and that my first summer as a married woman would be so full of fun and adventure and craziness!  Who would have thought it would be so good for a couple to spend the first few months of their marriage in a house FULL to bursting with single women!  HA!  It worked for us though.

And Finally, No one told me I would meet this guy:

Moe.  My friend Moe, has the funniest sense of humor!  He is such a tease, and yet when you need someone to just listen cause you're about to rip someone's head off, there is no one better than Moe!  If you need someone to teach you about Horses, Moe!  You need someone to drive a team?  Moe!  I wish I could express how much I love this man.  He is like a Father and a Brother and a great friend all rolled into one.  

I learned today that Moe Passed away last night.  Anyone have a red balloon lying around they wouldn't mind giving to me?  I will miss you my friend!  I know that you are gone from my Heaven, Home to our Father in Heaven.  I pray that you are happy there and that you find some people to tease.  And I hope you forgive me if I imagine that it looks a little like this:

bats.

I think I'm really funny.  In fact I am really funny.  I walk through life laughing at myself.  Most of the time I'm the only one.  This makes me look like I've got a screw loose. 

It also makes me a little sad.  After all, there are few things more pathetic than someone having a gut laugh and no one else joining in the merriment.  Kind of like there is nothing more jovial than a room full of friends or family splitting their sides.

I have several theories about why people don't seem to realize how funny I am.  The theory currently winning in my head is that my brain is a little off.  Not that I'm crazy really, just that my brain must work differently than most peoples brains.  See, I learned when I was in college, one of those random tidbits that just magically stuck with me, that humor is what happens when the brain makes a new connection.  It made sense to me then as it does now, though explaining it is a bit difficult.  However, I'm currently hypothesizing that people don't realize I'm funny because most people are missing some crucial brain connection that allows them to make the same connections I'm making, thereby, I'm not as funny to them as I am to me.  I've decided that the problem can't be in my brain because I'm getting the funny.  (he he he see, self delusion does work.)
Another hypothesis is that I've started laughing at myself as a self preservation mechanism.  This life can be hard.  For instance this morning when it was time to get up, I literally started crying.  The thought of the nice warm bed sitting there all lonely was just so wretched that I literally wept.  My poor bed with no one to enjoy it's nice warmth or to snore away the day. . . can you imagine that.  It's a very hard life I lead.  So, to stave off the tragic effects of my lonely bed, I laugh at myself. yeah, maybe not.
One more hypothesis, which I guess is the other side of the coin from the primary hypothesis (I told you it was winning) is that the synapses in my brain are missing or wired wrong.  I do not like this theory.  I do not like it at all because it means I have bats in the belfry. 
However, if I have to have bats in the belfry in order to be able to laugh at myself, then send in the bats. . . or was it clowns. . . I don't get clowns. . . they are very unfunny.

i need more sleep or why life is not a Disney movie

This morning I finished my morning shift after working 26 of the last 50 hours and realized I had to go return the pants I'd purchased two weeks ago because I bought the wrong size.  I also needed envelopes. So in spite of my reticence about going when I was tired, I went. 
I pulled into the parking lot.  I saw a truck waiting to turn out of an aisle.  It seemed they were waiting for me to turn, so I started to turn, I got just past the point of no return, and the truck starts to go!  I thought "don't hit me don't hit me don't hit me don't hit me don't hit me don't hit me don't hit me don't hit me" and proceeded to gun it to get out of this maniac's way.
She must have been distracted and since her ginormous truck was so tall, she couldn't see me in front of her.  I barely made it around this truck with my life and my car intact and RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME there's this old man with a badge from the establishment I am about to patronize. 
I slammed on my brakes to avoid hitting him.  (though honestly, I didn't have to slam that hard.) He hurried out of the way glaring at me as if I'd just kicked his dog and his infirm wife and his favorite grandchild. 
I hurried, perhaps more carefully, to park and got out to try to find him to apologize, but I couldn't find him.  He must have learned to walk VERY quickly from his recent brush with a somewhat near death experience.  I walked to one side of the car and then to the other and finally after I walked back to the first side I caught sight of him.  I tried to get his attention to appologize, but he turned and glared at me again.  I wondered befuddled why he wouldn't let me apologize.  I'd obviously startled him. 
I figured he was probably on his way into work, so I decided to keep an eye out for him and apologize more politely inside.  I gathered up my purse and jeans while making a mental list of all the crap I needed to do and striving to remember the old man's face so I would recognize him if I saw him again. 
I didn't have to look long.  Just inside the door talking with a coworker was my failed homicide attempt. At least that's how he must have felt from our conversation.  It went something like this:
"I'm SO SORRY!! I didn't see you."
"you were going too fast"
" I thought that truck was g. . ."
"you just need to slow down"
"I'm so sorry I thought that lady in the tru"
"You were going too fast"
At this point I turned to his coworker in desperation to try to get the rest of my sentence out.  I don't know why this was so important to me.
"There was a truck and I thought it was going to hit me so I sped up to get out of her way and he was behind her and I didn't see him"
All through this hastily uttered statement, he is muttering "she was going too fast she needs to slow down she just about ran right over me!"
I turned back to the old man and said "I'm so sorry.  I'm so glad you're ok."
"I'm fine."
"I'm glad you're ok."
He is now shooting me a death glare reminiscent of Severus Snape so I walk away to take care of my business.

I wish I could say that that incident was over for me at that moment, but obviously, as you can see by the fact that I'm writing about it, I'm still obsessing.  Perhaps he just needed me to say "You're right sir I was going to fast." Perhaps I could have said "you're right I should have been going slower." and just left it there.  It would have validated his feelings and shown him that I was sincerely sorry.  That statement would have justified his feeling of superiority over me.  That action would have given him the right to think I was an airheaded ninny, driving carelessly.  It would not have put me out really at all, and would have helped him think I had learned something and was appropriately repentant.
Then again perhaps I should have just forgotten the whole thing and not tried to apologize at all.  Afterall, I really did everything I felt I needed to do in order to  keep myself and everyone around me as safe as possible.  Given the exact same scenario, I would probably do the exact same thing.  I'm not sorry.  Not apologizing would have played into his sense that I was a irresponsible, careless, asinine, young driver. And therefore helped him feel superior to me and justified in hating me.  It wouldn't have put me out at all, in fact, it would probably have made my morning easier to deal with since I wouldn't have been dealing with feeling guilty while I was trying to shop.
I guess in my desire to apologize, I negated his point of view that I was needlessly speeding, and muddled his ability to feel superior, or to think of me and thereby all young drivers as reckless and addlepated.  How rude of me.
It seems to be the human condition that we want people who wrong us to BE wrong.  We want people to make us angry to BE the villain.  We want life to be like Disney.  Unfortunately, I have this belief in life that there is rarely if ever really a villain, and if we just take the time to listen and try to understand, we just might get a new perspective.  If we just take the time to attempt to communicate, we might find another human being just doing the best they can to make it through their own story.  I wish I didn't forget that so very often.

God's arms

Some of you may know that I work with adults with developmental disabilities.  At times this can be unbelievably frustrating, sometimes unbearably funny, and sometimes they take my heart beat on it with a meat tenderizer a little and hand it back to me slightly softer and maybe a touch bruised.  This past week has been. . . interesting to say the least.  Three experiences to illustrate.  I have one client, we'll call her Daphne to protect the guilty.  Who hates having her hair done.  Unfortunately, we have to do it twice a day or it winds up in a snarled indistinguishable mess.  So the other day I was doing Daphne's hair and she reached up a couple times to try to swat my hands away.  I calmly pushed her hand down and asked her to keep her hands to herself. (No the irony of this situation is not lost on me.)  Shortly she complied.  After I was all done, I took her into the living room.  A short while later she gestured to me that she wanted a hug.  I bent down to give her one.  Her return hug was extremely tight, I was slightly confused until too late, she slapped me so hard my ears were ringing for about 15 minutes.  Lesson learned.  I'll be cautious from now on.
I arrived at work one day to hear the news that the staff had lost the key to the cleaning closet.  This is a problem because we must have access to that closet at least 5 times per shift.  We have to leave all the cleaning supplies locked up as a safety precaution, but we have to clean as a safety precaution as well.  Needless to say we had to have the key.  The previous staff had searched and searched to no avail.  We searched for at least an hour.  In frustration and desperation, we were talking about where else to look.  Another client we'll call this one Sally,  is a very quiet, busy lady.  She loves to move around of her own will, and she loves to help. Sally came wheeling herself in as we were having this conversation and seemed very interested in what we were saying.  One staff jokingly turned to Sally and said something like: "can I shake you upside down to see if you have the key?"  Of course we would never do this, but the visual image made me laugh.  Especially since Sally is probably 12 inches taller than this particular staff when she stands.  It was quite a laugh imagining Sally trying to hide the key from us. I even wrote a little note "from Sally" to the other staff about how we could search her all we want, and we would never have the key.  Imagine my surprise a few hours later when we found they key. . . in Sally's pocket.
Another client I was walking with the other day.  It had been a bit of a rough afternoon, and walking usually calmed this guy down.  We were chatting about this and that when, out of the blue, he said to me: "What is going to happen to me when I die?"
I was stopped dead in my tracks mentally speaking.  I didn't know this man's religious background.  I didn't know what his parents would have had me say to him.  So I muttered some unintelligible string of syllables while deciding what to tell him, and more importantly, what I could tell him.  Finally I got up my courage and said "I believe that your spirit will go to your Father in Heaven and he will give you a huge hug and say 'Bobby, good job.  Thanks for living the best life you could.' " yes I've changed his name as well, but the point is he gave me a moment in my life when I had to simplify and condense and remember exactly what I believe and express it in a way that a small child could understand and relate to.  I was humbled and reminded that the people I work with are so fragile.  I hope and pray that my Savior is ok with what I've done with one of the least of his.

Micro reminders

My husband has an apparent inability to shut the front door when we leave the house.  You might think that this would bother me. . .  You would be wrong.  For some strange reason, when I come home and my front door is cracked slightly, I suddenly feel a nearly overwhelming love for this man who now shares my life, my home and my front door.  (And luckily my utility bill. )  I come home to an empty house, but that door left open a tiny crack is like a little reminder that I have someone in my life who loves me and wants to take care of me.  One other sweet reminder,  He types in Dvorak.  I can't type in Dvorak, but he hates typing in Qwerty.  My computer is on the fritz, and therefore, he has graciously given me the passwords to his computer, and thereby, his entire life.  Nearly every time I pick up his computer and go to type, it comes out looking like this:  oyay.m.byo ap. ,rbe.pugnv  I often get that far before I realize the keys are set in Dvorak, and I have to erase everything, change the keyboard back, and start over.  I just have to smile because there is someone who loves and trusts me enough to give me free access to his computer, his life, his microcosm, and he doesn't even get irritated when I forget to change it back. 

Green Leaves

Today I was driving to the store and I passed a huge tree.  Most of the leaves on this  tree were green.  This is unusual because I live in Utah, and it's November.  As I drove past, I noticed something else unusual, these beautiful green leaves were dancing out of the tree.  They fluttered to the ground like wisps of emerald paper thrown one by one out a skyscraper window.  The road and grass under the tree were littered with these seemingly healthy looking leaves.  It was beautiful and somewhat discombobulating all at the same time.  I pondered how something could seem so unprepared for the changes coming, and yet, it's more ready than we realize.  People are the same way.  At least I am in my life.  I see changes coming and I think to myself, " uh oh. . . I'm not ready for this!"  Only to get out on the other side and realize that I was perfectly prepared.  In fact, if i had waited any longer, the opportunity would have been lost.  So. . . Here's to ditching the green leaves of our lives when we need to.