First things first: Happy St. Patrick’s Day!
(This was our breakfast. When Trent blessed it, he said “…thank thee for shamwoks, ask thee to bless it…”)
Second things second: A few nights ago, the kids were stock FULL of energy and I was not. At 8:30 pm, I stared at the clock at thought, ‘No way is it only 8:30. It HAS to be 10 at least!’ But it wasn’t. And the kids were running laps around me. After trying my hardest to get the kids ready for bed, I collapsed on the couch and started a movie. My husband wasn’t home, and when he’s not home I take advantage of the full control I have over our media players. I love classic movies, and while my husband will endure them like a champ from time to time, in general he’d rather not bother with them. I turned one on and settled in.
“Send Me No Flowers” is a movie about a married man who is a hopeless hypochondriac. Through a fluke, he happens to overhear his doctor discussing a patient’s condition with a heart specialist. He thinks they are discussing him, but they aren’t. The diagnosis? A failing heart and only weeks to live. He leaves the doctor’s office reeling, and spends the rest of the day getting his affairs in order. He buys three cemetery plots (one for him, one for his wife, and one for his wife’s second husband) and then he goes home and encourages his wife to take some night classes about accounting and such. He figures she won’t be able to fend for herself once he’s gone.
As the movie unfolds, the conflicts that arise are pretty much hilarious. I really liked the movie so much that I’d rather watch it than “Pillow Talk” any day.
Last night, right before we went to bed, I told my husband about the movie and then I asked him what he would do if he only had weeks to live.
“Get my affairs in order,” he said, “And then take you to every Bed and Breakfast I could.”
The sweetness of his answer sort of took me off guard. I expected him to say something like, “Go to HAWAII!”
And if anyone knows us at all, they know how we feel about Bed and Breakfasts.
“What about the kids?” I asked. “Wouldn’t you want to spend time with them?”
“It’s not like we’d constantly be in the Bed and Breakfasts,” he replied.
He talks sense.
I started asking myself what I’d do if I only had weeks to live.
I’d gather up my family: husband, kids, mom, dad, siblings, their spouses… and go to Nauvoo. I’d take a church history tour and make a point of stopping off at an Amish community.
Yes, yes I would!
I’d go through the Nauvoo Temple:
I’d run rampant in the pioneer-esque establishment! I’d even go so far as to make myself a fancy-pants petticoat and frock. And bonnet! And APRON!
Then I’d ask my husband to please bury them with me. I’m materialistic like that.
I’d also spend some time getting all of my blogs made into books for my kiddos.
I’d also probably write a list of qualities I want in the woman who would raise my children. Then I’d feel guilty for writing the list and burn it (but still feel better for having actually wrote it).
One thing is for sure: I’d eat like a queen and not give a rat’s about my waistline.
What would YOU do? Be brutally honest.
I would cash out all my savings and retirement and we would travel around and see all our family members and eat the most ridiculously awesome food known to man.
Ooh, that’s a toughie. I would spend as much time as I possibly could with my family, preferably somewhere warm and carefree. I’d also like to go to New York and see Phantom, Wicked, and Les Miserables on Broadway. I’d go back to Europe and soak it in, eat whatever I wanted (with gusto), and sleep until noon everyday. I wish I could get away with that.