Monday, January 30, 2012

Tell About An Experience At The Doctor Or Dentist

When I think of going to the doctor as a kid, aside from the routine visits to Dr. Hicken’s office for shots and strep swabs and a horrific, exquisitely painful toe injection for ingrown toenail removal, two experiences come to mind. 

First, when I was maybe 6 or 7 I was playing in my backyard with Devin Rushton who lived right next door.  We did everything together, though as this experience points out he seemed to have his way with me whenever he wanted.  Our backyard wasn’t landscaped yet and it essentially had two levels with a sloping hill between them.  For some reason there was a long 2x12 plank going from the hill to the bottom level (I imagine it was placed there by a couple of 6 year olds looking for an activiny).  As I recall we took turns walking down the plank, which at its greatest height must have been a foot and a half off the ground.  Great fun.  On my way down I remember that Devin pushed me off of the plank, and I twisted my ankle on the crash landing.  I remember screaming in pain, for quite some time – something that I apparently was notorious for in the neighborhood – and was shocked that instead of coming to my aid Devin took off and left me alone.  I remember lying in the dirt, in pain and crying for someone to come to my aid but it seemed like no one could hear me. I’m sure my Mom or someone else finally came to my aid – likely 30 seconds later - and the next memory I have is being at the hospital in the radiology suite getting x-rays.  I remember being so afraid of the big x-ray machine.  I remember that the room was so plain and sterile looking.  I was sure that the x-ray was going to hurt.  As it turns out it was painless, and the bones were fine.  I think I was a bit of an over-reactor. 

Second, somewhere around the same time, maybe I was a little older – 8 or so- I cut my right chin open twice within about the same month, each time requiring stitches.  The first cut happened as we were cleaning out the garage, someone had propped a large inflated inner tube up against the back bumper of the station wagon and I was jumping on it.  The tube somehow came out from beneath me and I fell forward, hitting my chin on the chrome bumper.  My memory of the old hospital in Bountiful which has since been torn down (I think it was on the northeast corner of Orchard Dr. and 500 S.) is going into the main entrance of the red brick building with a foreboding sense of doom.  I don’t remember the stitches because I imagine that I was sedated for suturing.  I do remember going back for suture removal and thinking that it killed to have the stitches out. 

Then a week or two later I cut it open again.  This time I was riding my bike down Charlene Dr. as it curves downhill into Davis Blvd.  I was showboating, riding without my hands on the handle bars.  I was headed to Jeromy Cushing’s house on Davis Blvd. and I remember looking back to see if he was coming.  My next memory is being airborne as I sailed forward over my handle bars, and landing face first with my chin against the asphalt.  This time I legitimately screamed the death scream all the way home.  I think I had quite a bit of road rash with that crash.  Then again it was back to the hospital for stitches.  My only memory of the hospital was again of the suture removal hurting a lot.

So really none of those memories involve a doctor or a dentist, do they?  But they do recount stories of emotional trauma as well as physical pain and scars, and a brief interaction with the health care system.  And although it’s not part of my memory, I imagine a doctor was involved at some level in all 3 visits.  

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Heaven

"A happy family is but an early heaven."
~George Bernard Shaw





So... What does that say for moments like these?

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Thursday, January 19, 2012

"Sir, would you like a cookie?"



There I was, on flight 138 from Denver to Dallas; comfortable enough reading Hemingway and surprisingly indifferent to the slumping Pickwickian in the next seat who with head forward, chin on chest, was leaning rightward into my left arm.  That’s when I heard it.  “Attention passengers.  We will now begin to hand out our world famous homemade chocolate chip cookies.”  Oh no!  Today isn’t my free day!  What do I do?  Keep reading, Bryan.  Focus.  That’s the key, just keep reading.  You can do this. 

Though my eyes were reading the words on the page, my mind was elsewhere in a philosophical debate with my own devil’s advocate.  Perhaps this calls for an about-face?  Today can be a free day, right?  Better late than never if a world famous chocolate chip cookie is at stake.  Hmmm.  No.  I want my free day to mean more.  Chocolate chip cookie yes, but I want it to mean so much more.  There is so much to indulge in within the world of chocolate.  I’ll wait.  It’s only one cookie.

With resolve to remain strong, the climax of temptation arrived suddenly and without warning.  Completely blindsided I smelled it.  Not only are they sensuous chocolate chip cookies, but they’re warm!  Oh no!  Oh no!!  It’s amazing that the human nose can distinguish not only the smell, but the temperature.  Now it’s hard.  Really?!? Curse you, Frontier Airlines!  She’s right behind me now.  Only two rows back.  I can hear her asking repeatedly, “Would you like a cookie?”  Duh!  Who wouldn’t???  Me?!?  I can make it a free day.  No big deal.  I have seven to burn.  One row away now.  Be strong.  One cookie isn’t worth it.  I’ll be at the hotel soon, with nothing to supplement this one scrumptious cookie with.  Only cheap candy bars from the gift shop.  No, it’s not worth it.  Don’t blow free day.  The conference will have break tables on all three days.  I’ve seen them before, packed to the gills with brownies AND chocolate chip cookies.  Lots of them.  But they’re not warm.  But there are many.  Hmmm.

“Sir, would you like a cookie?” she says, as two warm cookies float to my left inches from my nose and mouth en route to window and middle seat.  I try to appear as if untempted, just coming to the surface of consciousness from the world of Hemingway.  “Oh, no thank you,” I say with a smile.  Little does she know the fury of the debate, the giving in and the standing tall.  In the end I conquered.  Partly.  In the hour of my greatest need, I reasoned that the sense of taste is seventy five percent smell and only twenty five percent taste.  So if I close my eyes and savor the smell as deeply as I can I will consume seventy five percent of that delicious cookie, while ingesting zero calories.  It’s like diet cookie.  So I do just that.  Ahhh!  Chocolate chip!  So so good!  Frontier does have some of the best chocolate chip cookies in the world.  Especially warm.  Mmm mmm.  Great job, Bryan.  You got the cookie and kept your free day! You did it! 

Can’t wait ‘til Saturday…

Monday, January 16, 2012

Say "CHEESE!"


 When your married life and budding family begin in Wisconsin,
you can't help yourself from becoming CHEESE HEADS.





We are Packer Fans all the way!

When Jacob was 2 months old we headed to The Frozen Tundra of Lambeau Field 
and put his name on the season ticket holders list.
We were told that Bryan and I would never live long enough 
for our names to be called upon to purchase tickets.  
And Jacob (remember, he was 2 months at the time) 
may not live long enough for his name to be called.  
BUT HIS GRANDCHILDREN may become eligible for his season tickets!  
(WHAT?!?!)  
So it was with this hope that Bryan and I placed Jacobs name on the waiting list:
#32, 497
You are welcome, great-grandchildren.

My favorite thing about these pictures is that they are all taken between the hours of 4am-7:30am.
The kids make a great attempt to Keep the Sabbath Day Holy.
Sunday afternoon we turn off all phones, computers, radios, and connection to the world 
in an attempt to keep the score of the recorded game a surprise.
The kids go to bed (but certainly can't fall asleep for hours) early on Sunday night
in preparation to wake up early on Monday morning.
We don't have the typical football food as we watch the recorded game.  
But breakfast foods have never been finer: sweet rolls, orange julius, bacon, eggs, and muffins!

Go PACKERS!  
SUPERBOWL CHAMPS 2011

Saturday, January 14, 2012

Give us this day our daily bread

This picture tells a beautiful story. 
Not really the beginning of a story. And certainly not the end. 
It's somewhere in the middle.  Just a tiny moment, really.
 I suppose the story could go on without this moment, 
but my heart is so grateful that it doesn't.

Setting: 
Small and inviting kitchen on Dixie Drive, not ostentatious, 
but updated in 1996 (a much needed blessing in Mom's life). 
Typical Sunday morning.

Characters and Storyline: 
Dad/Grandpa- walking out the door, large print scriptures in hand,  faith and obedience in his heart, heading to a meeting (but only after a tender kiss and quick witted comment for his adoring wife.)

Mom/Grandma- dressed for church since the crack of dawn, adorned with string of pearls and apron, preparing homemade rolls for yet another beautiful and much appreciated 
(though it's seldom or adequately expressed) Sunday Dinner with her family 
whom she obviously and unselfishly lives her life. 

Grandkids- contently at Grandma's side with floured hands, 
learning first hard from Grandma's wisdom and example, 
the things that make all the difference in making rolls 
and the things that make all the difference in living life. 
Occasionally sneaking a bite of sweet dough.

Blessed Daughter- witnessing the scene she has been a part of countless times before, 
with new eyes and an overflowing and grateful heart.

Plot:
Passing on a legacy of faith and happiness to another generation through daily example 









(Recipe makes 32 rolls and a happy family.)

Mom's Sunday Dinner Rolls
1/2 cup warm water
1/2 Tablespoon sugar
1 1/2 Tablespoon yeast
1/2 cup butter, melted
1 cup milk, scald in microwave for 2 minutes
1/2 cup sugar
3 eggs, beaten
1/2 Tablespoon salt
5 cups flour

Mix water, sugar and yeast in small bowl and let rest.  Melt butter in microwave, then add milk and scald in microwave.   To milk add and mix sugar, eggs salt, and 1/2 of flour.  Add yeast mixture and mix.  Then add remaining flour and knead until well mixed.

Cover and let rise until doubled.  Punch down and divid dough into four.  Roll out each ball of dough  into a circle and cut pizza style into eight pieces.  Roll each section into crescent roll and place on baking sheet.  Rise again, then bake at 350 degrees for 8-10 minutes.

Friday, January 13, 2012

Will I ever have a daughter-in-law?

We believe in date nights.  
Usually Bryan and I take the kids out together for one-on-one dates.  
Occasionally we split up; Dad takes the girls, Mom takes the boys.
 I took the boys to dinner hoping to enjoy meaningful and instructional conversation.

Me: "Boys, the day will come when you will be out to dinner with a girl you really like.  You will need to be the one to encourage conversation.  What are some questions you could ask her to get the conversation going?"

And without hesitation, as if they lay awake in bed each night preparing for such a moment, they fired off their responses....
Jake: "So.... how old ARE you?!"
Hayden: "Are you married?"
Seth: "Do you even have a soul?"
*sigh*....I have A LOT of work to do. 

I sure love these boys!
(And it's a good thing. Considering the way they carry a conversation,
 I could be stuck with them for quite a while.)

Thursday, January 12, 2012

Mia's first cast

On September 2nd Amelia had an insignificant fall off the swing in our back yard.
Insignificant except for the fact that it lead to a cast.



She was remarkably brave.


Cast color of choice?
Pink, of course.


Amelia was quite please with her new Pink cast!  
They lead to lots of attention and pampering!

But apparently casts also lead to frustrating situations such as this: 

(I'm still not sure how this happened, 
but I'm sure glad I had my camera ready!)

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

Pretty in Pink... and Hunter's Orange







Aubree is the quintessential girl:

Natural mother to all her siblings,
Unsurprisingly obedient,
Inspiring cellist and pianist,
Silky golden locks and long black eyelashes,
Unassuming and kind,
Always aware of where each family member has placed lost items,
Excellent student,
Pretty in pink,
Blood thirsty hunter.



Okay, 'blood thirsty' is a little dramatic.  
But she does have an amazing 'eye'.  From the tender age of 2 she could spot animals 
on mountain tops from miles away which were invisible to the rest of the family, 
with the exception of her bloodthirstyhunterfather.  
She is a natural hunter.  
So when she finally came of age she was invited to join the hunting party.  





Oh, happy day!

The hunting party.  18 men (not all pictured).  1 young lady.    
 And may I say a word about this hunting party?  
I love them all.  
Every single red-necked one of 'em. 
Me: "So how was it hunting for six days with 18 men?!  How did you survive?" 
Aubree's report: "Mom, they were really so awesome to me! Every meal we ate they made me dish up and sit down first because I was the lady!"  
Bless these sweet gentlemen who taught my daughter how she deserves to be treated.
(And Bryan reported a notable decrease in burping when she was present.)  
See?  Gentlemen.


From sun up....
 

To sun down....


...Aubree was a tough trooper! 
 

And she looked ADORABLE while doing it!
 
ADORABLE, I tell you!!!
 


Enjoying their 'day of rest' together.
(Could a wife and mother be more proud?)



 Posing with "Max"(note the antler sticking out of the middle of his head!)

 The kill for the year (shot by other members of their hunting party.) 

Though they didn't have much luck with the elk,
it was a pretty successful week together!


After a week in the wild she is still pretty in pink...
...and hunter's orange.
 

Monday, January 9, 2012

If ye are prepared ye shall not fear

For Family Home Evening we discussed the principle of being prepared, 
brainstormed some scenario's of natural disasters that could occur in our area, 
then pulled out our 72 hour kits to see how well we were prepared.  


I sent the kids to their rooms with their separate back packs 
and asked each of them to put on the clothes that we had packed in our kits for each of them
last time we 'prepared' ourselves.  

I think this picture adequately shows how well (or not) we are prepared....
The Wilcox family is officially FEARFUL.