Yesterday was so unbelievably full.  A few months ago, every single day of my life read a lot like yesterday.  Life has slowed down considerably.  I know that isn’t the modern way -slowing down -but it is the only way.  My health has given me no choice but to slow it down and get it together.

But yesterday was so nice!  It’s no wonder I so easily get sucked into a life of constant going going going.  I enjoy it!  We woke up early and went into the city, took care of urgent business, bustled home, dropped my husband off so he could get to work, picked the kids up from Super JuJu, sent one on a quick trip to Snowflake with Grandpa, took the other with me to Woodruff to pay a visit to Granny (who is married to a man that makes the very BEST raspberry freezer jam on account of his growing his own raspberries), stopped at the grocery store on the way home for tomatoes to make bruschetta with, picked up Lacy, came home, cleaned up, made dinner for ourselves and mom’s crew, cleaned up dinner, finished Darah’s apron, put the kids to bed, and finished out the day with TWO HOURS of alone time which I gladly filled with TWO HOURS of Cranford.

At midnight, I scolded myself into bed -stopping only to take my contacts out. As I slid my thick-rimmed glasses on my face, I started laughing.

I told you it’s been months since I’ve had a day like yesterday and it has! I remember having a day like yesterday the last week of October. At the end of it, I took both of my children to a truck-or-treat the ward hosted. I was extremely embarrassed to be going out in public with my glasses on. What’s worse: my hair wasn’t styled. My make up wasn’t on properly. But I knew the kids would want to go. I couldn’t let them down on account of my vanity. Once there, the leaders invited the children to form a line and they paraded in a circle through the gym area so we might all see the costumes. I stood next to my oldest brother, snapping pictures of all our children.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“What?” I put my camera down and looked at him.
“What’s your costume?” He asked. Before I could stammer out an answer, he suggested one. “Sarah Palin?”

And I laughed. And I laughed. And laughed and laughed and laughed. Months later, I’m still laughing.

After yesterday, I slept hard. I don’t remember my dreams which is a blessing given that a few nights ago I had a rather disturbing dream about Justin Bieber, a huge lake, and a dock.
I was out cold, and had no idea that sometime in the middle of the night… I received guests.
I woke up to bed bugs.

Also: as a sister who is teased by brothers, I felt a certain sympathy for my daughter who spent the better part of last night having her precious little legs smashed by a brother.

Now that the house is waking up, I’ve got to get moving. With a little bit of luck, I’ll finish Cranford today. With a little bit of luck, I’ll make more french bread for my husband. With a little bit of luck, I’ll clean the car out. With a miracle, I’ll do it all showered, dressed, and completely ready for the day.  I’ll make Sarah proud.

I’ve been trying to get my room in a get-away state.  I want to be able to enter it, shut and lock the door, and feel as if I’m in my own space.  I’ve got a color scheme in mind and I know where and how I want everything.  All I need is a little $$$$$.  My husband squirreled away a chunk of change without my knowing it and graciously handed it over to me on Saturday.

I took us all to Real Deals -a boutique style home decor store with very friendly prices.

CLICK HERE to learn more about them.  They’re a franchise, so there’s a few here and there.  They’re only open two days a week, so you have to pay close attention.

While perusing the store (which was easy to do because they have a playroom in the back!), I found a sign.  Please forgive me for what I’m about to say: No fan am I of signs with sayings.

But this one?  It made me tear up.  I was standing in the middle of the store with tears welling up in my eyes staring at a sign.  With a saying on it.

So I bought it. At $10, I really had no reason not to. A friend of mine was nice enough to google the saying and found out that it can be attributed to…
Ben Franklin.
Well, NO WONDER. Signs with sayings must always be forgiven if their father author is Ben Franklin. I love that man. He is one of my heroes. The sign is not on the wall yet. I’m waiting for JUST the right place.

Now.
Onto something more better.

My brother took a little trip this week. He went into a small Asian trinket store and found a few treasures which he took pictures of and then texted them to me.
Mira:

“Is it REALLY?” He asked.

My neighbor gave me a jar full of growing crystals around Christmas time. My brother found some of those crystals in the shop and took a picture of what we think are the growing instructions.

I get a lot of Spam comments that read something like those instructions.

For laughs:

Aren’t you glad my brother is in this world? I am.
I love him.
I love Real Deals.
I love that I’m the only one up right now (knock on wood).

Sometimes when you pray for help, it doesn’t come right away.  Sometimes it comes days later in the form of a phone call from a well-meaning grandparent who just happens to say exactly what you didn’t know you needed to hear.

Sometimes it comes through ways you couldn’t have foreseen:
Somehow that sunset meant more to me than almost anything else, though I would have never thought to ask for it.

Can you imagine?

Dear God,

I’d sure like a pick-me-up.  Can I order a gorgeous sunset?  I think that would do the trick.

Amen.

I don’t know, maybe I’ve got it wrong.  Maybe it does work like that, but I don’t have the guts to speak so frankly to Heavenly Father.  It seems rude.  I mean, I wouldn’t say that to anyone!

Dear Mom,

I need a pick-me-up.  Can I order a plate of your cookies?

Goodbye.

Usually when Mom can tell I need a pick-me-up, she sends along something like cookies.  Sometimes when Mom’s not around, I plop my kid on the counter next to me and we MAKE cookies!

Let this be a lesson to you:
When life gives you lemons, call grandpa, make cookies, and wait for the sun to set. In that order.

I like raking.  The fresh air is therapeutic, and I’ve always taken great satisfaction out of working with my hands.  I raked a big part of the yard a few weeks ago and hauled the leaves off.  As I raked them up, I thought about where they’d been: hanging above my head most of spring, all of summer, and some of fall.  Then they died.

Unlike Dickinson, death does not fascinate me.  Just ask my little brother.

Yesterday, a mouse got caught in a trap behind my piano.  It didn’t die because the only part of it’s body that got caught was it’s tail.  I watched in horror as it scampered around the house, making good time despite the attached trap.  I didn’t want the kids to see it, so I mustered up every ounce of courage I had and pinched the trap with pliers.  I lifted the mouse (who was clawing at the carpet) into the bag and ran it out to my little brother, who -THANKFULLY -was behind my house doing his farm chores.

I handed the bag to him, told him what it was, and then booked it back into my house.  A few minutes later, he brought my empty trap back.

I’m still pretty disturbed over the whole thing, and you can imagine.  If dead leaves affect me the way they do, it’s no wonder a mouse dying will practically send me out of my wits.

The dead leaves just remind me of the people who came before me.  Before you mark me for crazy, let me explain a little.

Yesterday after lunch, I continued the raking job I had started a few weeks ago.  The leaves were once bright and alive -they watched over us, shaded and protected us.  Once they turned brown and fell to the ground, they were left to us to be found and handled.

You can burn dead leaves, it’s true.  You can rake them up and jump into them.  You can do pretty much whatever the heck you want with leaves, really.  It’s up to you.

BUT a wise gardener knows that some of the best fertilizer comes from dead leaves.  If put back into the ground they came from, they will provide the ground with much needed nutrients.

I’ve found it’s the same way with my ancestors.  As much as the comparison between dead leaves and the people I came from seems irreverent, it is also relevant.

If left uncared for, they can’t help us.

If cared carefully for, they will enrich and complete our lives.  This applies directly to temple work, of course.  But aside from that, there’s much to be learned from the lives they led, the lives they touched, the things they said and did and learned and wrote.

My great great great grandfather was a highly decorated Danish officer.  Knowing that makes me want to try harder to be better.  My great great grandfather was a pioneer.  My great grandfather was a well respected and established member of our community, as is his son (my grandfather) and HIS son (my father).  All of these men inspire me to do better -to try harder -to live up to their greatness.

(two of my great-grandfather’s hats sitting on top of my great-grandmother’s shirt.)

Yesterday, my husband asked me during a rare moment of silence on my part, what I was thinking about. I told him I wasn’t thinking about anything.

“That mind of yours is always thinking something,” he laughed.

And given that I can’t even rake leaves without coming inside overwhelmed at my ancestry….

he’s got a point.

Last week, my grandmother asked me to help her out with the Founder’s Day parade.  Did I already tell you this?  As I’m typing, I’m getting the feeling that I did.

In any case, she asked me to dress up as my great grandma and pretend to make soap on a flat bed trailer with my trusty brother, Steve, at my side pretending to be our great grandpa.  My great grandparents used to save their grease up for an entire year and then they’d spend a few days making homemade soap.  The soap they made over those few days lasted an entire year.  On Sunday, my blessed aunt (I’m starting to think I overuse adjectives.  Trusty brother.  Blessed aunt…) gave me a DVD of a home video someone took of my great grandparents making soap.  I haven’t watched it yet, but I’m planning on it!

We went to Saver’s on Saturday and I went with one goal in mind: old lady shoes.  We got there thirty minutes before they closed and while I scanned the shoe shelves for a golden find, my son wriggled away, climbed on a stool, and fell off.  His screams permeated the pleasant hum of background noise, and we did our best to GET THE HECK OUT OF THERE.  And we did.

Right after I found these:

They are perfect! What’s more: they are brand spanking new! What’s EVEN MORE: they have rubber soles.

I wore them all day yesterday. They were a perfect match to my brown polyester pants I love so much, and every step I took was bliss. Okay, that may be overdoing it a very little.

I also snagged up three yards of cotton/poly pink fabric to make pants out of and a clashing pink striped shirt. I think they’ll be a perfect match. My great grandmother always used to wear a brilliant hat that Aunt Minnie made. She took empty bleach bottles and cut them just so, popped holes around the edges and then crocheted them together.

See her tucked behind the burn barrel? That’s my Dad stirring the soap. I’m obviously nowhere near as small a woman as my great grandmother, but I’m off in a few minutes to go find THAT hat. THE hat. The original crocheted by Aunt Minnie Hat.
I’m going to figure out how it was made and try my hand at it.

And you can bet I’m going to wear my old lady shoes all the way to Aunt Sarah May’s house to get a peek at that hat. I’m only sad my brown polyester pants are dirty. They really completed the look.
(PS: Steve, I’m counting on you to say “Nice shoes, Alicia. Perfect match for the dress” next time you see me. Maybe we could watch “Rigoletto” too.)