Happy Anniversary

In some ways it's been a long three years and in others it barely feels as if a day has passed. You've accomplished a lot. I've never seen anyone work harder. You've snagged a fabu job, and have a daughter who believes the sun rises and sets because you ask it to. Happy Anniversary to the love of my life. Thank you for being everything I could have ever hoped for and more.


Something Needs to Change

I cannot sleep tonight. Every time I close my eyes, tears float to the surface. My heart begins to race as I realize that something needs to change.

Seven months ago, my Bishop's pregnant wife, Michelle, his son, Ben, and his daughter, Anna were killed by a drunk driver, just half a mile away from my house. I can vividly recall the blare of the sirens as the ambulances sped by our house as if it happened yesterday. There seemed to be a million of them. My bishop lives on my street. I drive by his house every day. I've tried to write this blog before, but I've always given up because words aren't enough to describe the deeply profound, and yes, sacred effect this tragedy has had on my life.

The first two months following the accident, his house was draped with pastel ribbons and bows, a color for each person that died. Eventually the ribbons were removed and everyone on my street and in my ward tried, and still fervently try, to act normal and that a tragedy of such magnitude couldn't possibly have occurred to a righteous man and his sons living just a half a block away. But we all know it did, and lessons have been learned.

My bishop (now former, he was released this past Sunday), immediately decided to forgive the teenage boy responsible for the accident. He says that after looking at his deceased wife, he knew she would want him to forgive, so he decided to forgive. After that decision, he heard his son Sam cry out from the back seat. I believe that decision has made it easier for him and his family. He now only has to deal with grief and pain. Anger has been left out of the equation. For the first five months, I couldn't look at him sitting up on the stand without the lyrics to a Paul Simon song floating through my head "...Losing love is like a window in your heart. Everybody sees you're blown apart. Everyone hears the wind blow...." I found it so hard, and still do, to think of anything to say. I would say hi, smile and act overly cheery, all the while resisting an overwhelming urge to sob and tell him how sorry I was.

Tonight while watching some mindless entertainment show I hear that Lindsay Lohan is only to get a day in jail and have to finish rehab for a SECOND DUI. Now, I don't know if this is what everyone gets who gets a second dui, or if she is getting special treatment. That is beside the point. The point is that now millions of people who get drunk and drive are going to hear this. What's the worst that can happen? They'll just get some community service and a day in jail, drink and drive all you want, nothing bad will happen if you get caught.

Something needs to change. Something has to change.

The laws need to be tougher. I'm a fan of if you drink and drive your license should be suspended for life. If you get caught a second time, that's ten years in prison. There can be stipulations, like get your license back after five years for good behavior or something like that. I don't think this is too extreme or too tough.

I wonder if the judge who Okayed Lindsay's plea bargain would've made the same decision if he had lived on my street and witnessed the agony that I have witnessed. If he had to watch a man struggle as he does his best to piece together a better life for him and his sons. I daresay the outcome might have been different.

I don't know where to go from here, or if I'll ever be able to help make a change. I hope so. I hope I will be able too, but as for now, something has to change.



My little sister is now a little mama. On Saturday she gave birth to an 8 pound, 10 ounce beautiful baby boy named Ryder. Jazzy, Phil, and Ryder are all doing very well, if not a little exhausted. Congratulations! Ryder is one lucky little boy.

(I'm having issues with getting a picture, and Sean is not around, which means I am totally clueless. Stay tuned for more pictures. I will get some up as soon ASAP.)


As a Side Note

Earlier today I exchanged my drinking glass for a new one because I saw a floaty in my water. I just walked into my kitchen, apparently more parched than the dessert because I grabbed the first glass I saw and swallowed it's contents. As I finished I recognized the glass as the floaty glass. I drank the floaty. It's really bothering me...


That word is getting on my nerves. Gracie has hit her two's a little early, and to say the very least, she is intense. Everything is a big deal. Everything. Whether I am telling her to take a nap or if she is asking for a fruit snack, the entire thing is so overly dramatic. She'll wail and moan. Her hands will wave above her head, she'll run around the room. If she is happy, the entire scene is accompanied by a high pitch happy yell. If she is mad, sad, or confused she'll keep shouting "NO".

I am happy that she is beginning to discover what she wants, needs and thinks she needs, but it will be nice when she is through this stage. When she finally realizes that no matter how much she persists and asks, that sometimes the answer is no. Unfortunately, it's lesson that has to relearned time and time again. I just want Gracie to realize that I mean business when I say she can't have any more cheese, and that she will think me later for my keen wisdom.

Alas...Just another day in my mom world, a wonderful, exhausting world that it is.


Simpsonized Gublers

There are so many things I could blog about, the passing of beloved apostle James E. Faust, the six Utah miners still buried deep within the earth, or how they are still finding victims of the bridge collapse. Today I find myself too emotionally exhausted for writing about such things, instead I thought I would go a complete opposite route.

Here is what Sean, Gracie and I would look like if we lived next door to the Simpsons!

Highly amusing, to say the least. If you want to try this, just google simpsonize me. I don't know the exact address.


Doorbell Confusion

I was snuggly wrapped up in my sheets when it happened: The doorbell rang. I know this is usually not that big of a deal, and it was early afternoon, so the person ringing my doorbell...repeatedly I might add, probably thought this was a normal thing to do. But it wasn't. I had just got my daughter to sleep and was in my underwear. Come on, it's hot.

Amid the pounding of the doorbell, I hear my daughter cry out. I stumbled out of bed, threw on some clothes. My shirt was on backwards, but it was at least on me. In a frenzy to make the noise stop, I opened the door.

"Hi ma'am, what do you use for your hard water...?" I look to see a young black girl holding a bunch of cleaner in her hands. My mind was too foggy to finish her sentence.

"Umm...I'm just renting. I'm sorry, we're all napping. I'm not interested."

"Well," says the sales lady. I swear at this point she does that snap thing with her fingers that's generally reserved for black ladies in the movies? Is it? I don't think I have enough diversity in my life. Anyway, all I know is that she left mean and in a huff.

If I was to see this girl again, I would look into her eyes and tell her I meant no harm, but that maybe she shouldn't pound on a doorbell and then be surprised when the person answering the door in a half dressed state isn't very interested. I would then send her across the street to visit my landlord, which is what I do with all salespeople. It shows I'm being helpful, without having to do anything.


Ann...with an e.

In Utah, the PBS stations are doing their fundraising. This time they are playing Anne of Green Gables, Anne of Green Gables, the Sequel, and Anne, The Continuing Story approximately 22 hours a day. I have watched 21 and half of those hours in feverish delight. Well, excluding, Anne, the Continuing Story. I watched that in feverish confusion.

What is it about that little red haired-girl and the stories that I love so much. I love that she uses her imagination, I love Marilla and Matthew, I love Gilbert, I love Prince Edward Island, the whole thing makes me wish it was the late 1800's, when life was simpler, more pure...when kids got drunk on accident instead of on purpose.

Tonight KUED is playing Anne of Green Gables again. This will the third time I will have watched it this week. This proves to me that I need to own them on DVD.



What a week it has been! On Monday, Sean got a phone call saying his mom, Marge, was the back-up for a liver transplant. After waiting an entire night on pins and needles, she didn't get it. A little disheartened, they were getting ready to leave the hospital when they got the call that there was a liver for Marge. Hours later Marge was in surgery, a surgery that had been a year and a half in the making.

Marge is doing well and slowly making her recovery. We are excited for her and wish her all the best!