Target, Chick-fil-A and a Farty

Dave & I at dinner with our lovely friends

After spending a long and most delightful weekend with dear old friends I knew I would be able to handle the very late weekend nights because I would have this Monday morning to catch up on lost sleep. I was giddy with the thought that as soon as my family was out the door, I could go right back to sleep. Decadence!  I kissed Dave, Kyle and Eli good-bye, told them that I loved them and they were on their way. I quickly ate my oatmeal, drank my green tea, sent an email to my fellow room-mom/pal about our upcoming Valentine’s Day Class Party, emptied my bladder and climbed back in bed.

Snuggly and warm I was as I drifted off into my daylight slumber.  Through my sleepy, sleepy haze I heard the buzz buzz buzz of my phone vibrating across my night stand. I thought about ignoring it and then I worried that maybe Dave was having an emergency. It had to be Dave because  I knew the school would not text me. I picked up my phone and looked at my text. It was my good friend.  She wanted to know if I would accompany her on a Salt Lake City Target run. Yes, we have to go to Salt Lake City because Park City is way to lame to have its very own Target. They would rather we risk life and limb driving down Parley’s Canyon than accomodate the locals and tourists alike. And no, The Park City Walmart does not suffice.

I asked her to go without me and turned over.  Then, because she is a very good friend and because I am easily swayed when it comes to a Target run, I texted her again.  She told me she was having a rough morning.  I had a feeling.

“I need to hop in the shower.” I said.

“I will pick you up in a half an hour.” She replied and shortly thereafter we were out the door.
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Alligators in my Dreams

Celebration, Florida

With my hands tied I cannot speak about what I have been processing lately (my childhood, it always goes back to my childhood). I would love to share about my one friend (my texting buddy) who is struggling and I am dying to write about that really off-guard moment (with family), which triggered a pain that took me all the way back to Mr. Eide (our next door neighbor) and my five-year-old-girl alligator dreams. I had so many freaking alligator-in-the-backyard-pond dreams that I began to refer to them as if they were my very own middle-of-the-night television series. Even when I would run into my mom’s room screaming, I would sob, heave, sniff and sob some more, “Mom, I had that same one two nights ago and it still scared me!” I would shake and shiver uncontrollably until she calmed me down and then I would spend the rest of the night sleeping in her bed until I had so many dreams that my mom and step-dad began making me a bed on the floor. Today I am not ready to get into it. Be advised, however, that anything I write now is totally being controlled by my alligator pain [wink wink].

 

It is probably not so crazy that as I write I still am feeling those crazy alligator knots. The knots come from five year old aligator-dream me, nine year old me and most definitely fifteen year old me night-terror me. Yes, when I was fifteen I had the craziest night terror ever. My parents found me standing in my closet with my pink blanket covering my head. They were afraid to come into my room because my screams were so loud and shrill. As they tried to wake me I screamed, “The Titanic! It is going to get me! I am in a little boat! HELP! HELP! H-E-L-P M-E! The Titanic is going to get me! HELP!” Yes, I really was standing in the closet with a pink blanket over my head and yes, that is really what I was screaming. And no, the knots did not leave after that. I believe I carried those knots all the way to twenty-one year old me. And when I was twenty-one and on a Mormon Mission, the powerlessness became so suffocatingly huge that were I to survive, those knots had to begin untying themselves and so they did. Ah yes, life likes to remind us that we are human and so on occasion, like now, something brings the knots into view and I am reminded that I still have some work to do. Damn Knots! And why does everything we do have to go back to something that happened to us when we were children? Why?

Maui

Sadly one of the things that happens when these knots show up is that I feel powerless. When I feel powerless I always experience writing paralysis. Stupid writing paralysis! Yet as I think and not write, I think about how cool the past five years has been and how happy I am that I opened this internet door again. I would not be so bold as to call myself the Little Engine that Could, but more I would call myself The Little Website That Has A Goal To Write Every Single Day and is Not Quite Meeting Her Quota.

Thank God there are no alligators here.

Alligators in the Pond
Guys’ Weekend: Kevin & Easy E

 

Guys’ Weekend

 

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Sundance 2012: Townie Tuesday

Sundance 2012 from a Park City Local

 

I have been to all three festivals this year (kind of). I still need to see a Sundance Film. That should be solved soon because I am on my way to get my Townie Tickets for Townie Tuesday. Before I go I need to post. In the back of my mind I have this goal to post Monday through Friday. So far it has been difficult. Today I thought I would at least post something and then come back later — I hope.

 

The Dominos Pizza has been delivered, the kids are settled in babysitter mode, my hair is combed, my teeth are brushed and I am on my way.  I cannot wait to tell you about my very favorite OUTDOOR RETAILER Show and how super cool X-Dance was.  Utah has been bringing some really amazing events to town, especially this time of year.

I will take pictures of tonight’s adventure and will be back soon to post. Forgive the random commas and misspells. I know I need to edit.

11:08 PM

Townie Tuesday

We are back. The wait was just over an hour. I began our night by driving to Dave’s office, which is in downtown Park City, We bundled up, went outside and took the Free Park City bus to Main Street. We walked into the Gateway Park City building, found the end and stood in line until it was our turn at the Ticket Counter. The wait was about an hour.

We chose the 7PM Showing!
Dave on Main Street Park City
Dave eating giant dessert at Reyes Adobe
Me and Rachelle

Please forgive this most lazy post. I have so much more to tell and after I wash that grey right out of my hair and go read with Eli’s class, I will.

Breakfast with the Boys

The Boys

“Has anyone seen my pile of credit cards?” Dave says
as Justin asks, “Do you want an egg?”
I respond, “”no.”
To which Justin responds, “I’ll scramble it.”

Kevin sits quietly reading, Outside Magazine, as Dave frantically weaves in out and out of the kitchen. Justin just burned his croisant and I ask him, “are you making a Croissan’wich?”

The Original Burger King Croissan’wich
Justin’s Croissan-wich 2012

“Yes. The Croissan’wich was popularized in the mid 1980s.” He inserts as he shakes a little salt and and pepper onto to his eggy creation.”

The I ask Justin, “What did I just ask you?”
Justin laughs, “Is this Cheese and sausage?” He laughs. “Really the question is, is it is cheese or a sausage blog?”

Now that is a good question and instead of answering that question I continue to type and wonder what Kevin is reading about so I will ask. As I start to ask, Justin comes and sits next to me. I am transfixed with his Croissan’wich and I forget to ask. Kevin gets up and asks with Croisant in hand, “How long do I toast this thing without burning it?”

Justin gives him some advice and before Justin can take a bite I ask him to model his sandwich for me. From somewhere outside of the kitchen I here Dave say to the lady on the phone, “I will hand the phone to my wife and she will give you the information you need.” As he enters the kitchen he then hands me the phone and tells me that I need to talk to the lady and I do.

As I continue typing, Lisa at the Credit card company is explaining to me that over the next sixteen billing cycles I can earn earn 750 airline miles blah blah blah because I am listening to Dave explain to Justin what I am doing.

And this is a tiny glimpse into Guy’s Weekend. Every Mid-January a different variety of dudes show up at our house to play board games and ski. Every year Dave has a new board game, I get the rooms ready, pull out the guest coffee maker (I drink Green Tea). And the one constant is that every year you know Justin (Dave’s lifelong BFF) will be here and because you know Justin will be here, everyone is happy.

Justin making his Croissan’wich

Thinking of Michelle

Kyle & Eli February 9, 2007

It was a really weird, last-minute-holiday-shopping type of day. I was buying Christmas and Kyle’s Birthday presents. With the Winter Solstice staring me in the face, it was dark early and I must admit that I let the darkness creep inside too. I was hungry, needed some sugar or caffeine and wanted to get back to Park City.

I waited and waited to make a lefthand turn out of the 33rd South Salt Lake City Red Balloon, and the holiday traffic was not letting up. Tired of waiting, I took a right instead and found myself trying to navigate a different route back to the highway.

It was really no coincidence that as I drove West down 33rd South, then made a righthand turn at 2000 East and saw La Puente Restaurant sitting there on the Northwest Corner, that I started thinking about Kyle’s pre-school friend/cousin, Sam Williams.  La Puente was the last place I saw Michelle, Sam, Ben & Ana.  Kyle & Sam are the same age and Ben & Ana were roughly the same ages Kyle and Eli are now.  Back in 2007 it was the Williams Family and their tragedy that nearly brought me back to blogging.  I have wanted to write about this, but it never felt right until now.

My Boys Today

It all began when Kyle was in pre-school.  He came home  one day, excitedly handed me an eight and a half by eleven lined sheet of paper with the name Sam and a phone number written so big the letters filled the entire sheet. “Mom. Mom. You know Sam?”

“Yes. I know Sam.”

“Guess what?”

“What, Kyle?”

“Sam says we are related and that we are cousins. Here is his phone number. We need to get together.”

Sure enough and as crazy as it may sound, Sam and Kyle are most definitely related and yes, they are second cousins, depending on which side you are coming from. A few days after Kyle brought home the phone number I saw Michelle, Sam’s mom, at Pre-School pick-up and as she stood outside with the sun glistening on her face she said, “Beth, did Kyle tell you the news?”

“I believe he did.” I replied as we both laughed.

“It is true. We are related. Beth, your mother-in-law, DeAnne, is my first cousin. Last weekend I was at Aunt Jean’s in Saint George . . .”

“I know Aunt Jean.” I excitedly interrupted and blurted out.

Michelle continued, “Well, I was at Aunt Jean’s and I asked her why she had a picture of Kyle’s parents on her piano. She told me, ‘well, that’s Davy, you know, DeAnne’s son.’ Then she told me how we are all connected, how Dave’s mom lived with my parents a long time ago and that she knew you and Dave. It is such a small world.”

“So small that sometime you find out that you are related, right?”

“Right. Sam thought it was really great and could not wait to tell Kyle.”

With this new piece of information Kyle’s friend, Sam instantly went from pre-school buddy to Kyle’s family.

Kyle & Zeke

As time and life goes, the pre-school year ended and I was not great about staying in touch.  And then one evening, as we often did with them back then, our friends Kat & Alan asked if we wanted to go out to eat.  Because we were burned out of Rubio’s and Cafe Rio, they suggested La Puente and we were on our way.  Once seated, Michelle and and I almost immediately noticed each other. She and her kids were sitting close by.  Once Kyle realized a fellow family member was sitting so close he burst out of his seat to greet them.  Then Eli, Kyle, Sam, Ana, Ben & Zeke (Kat & Alan’s son) made their way over to the “Arcade” (the entryway of the restaurant that has a few video games and gum ball machines.  Kyle and Sam quickly retold their story, proving once again even to Ana & Ben, that yes, we are related. “Sam told us about you. We are cousins, right?” Ana said making sure we all understood that she and Ben knew that we were family.  The kids had a blast. We literally had to drag them out of the restaurant with apologies that it had been so long and promises that we would see each other soon.

Shortly after that, we moved to Park City. And if you know anything about Utah, once you move to the other side of Parley’s Summit, you might as well live in Antarctica. It is strange how a half hour drive over a high mountain pass transports you into another world.

. . . Several months later found Dave, the boys and me in Hawaii for the very first time. We were there for nearly a month. Our trip magically began in Oahu and ended brilliantly in Kauai. By the end of our trip I was convinced that we would somehow find a way to move to this island paradise. The sunshine and ocean waves were the Natural Xanax I needed to conquer my seasonal Winter Blues.

Our last day arrived much to quick. We had to check out of our condo hours before our flight departed. With our bags packed, I did the one thing I always do in the morning and that is read the online news, especially the local news. I saw the initial article: Pregnant Woman and Two Children Killed in an Accident. With no other information, I needed to check the news again because somehow in the back of my mind I knew it was Michelle. I know the area well. I know the underpass the family was driving under. I knew she was pregnant. All the facts were adding up.

We had to check out of our condo and I had to wait to find out. As my boys spent their last day in paradise I knew a family back home was hurting.

Lydgate Park. Kauai.

At the same time I was reading the news the behind-the-scenes communication was happening in the Dorny family (Dorny is my mother-in-law and Michelle’s maiden name) and I received an email from my Mother-in-law with a link to an article telling us the very sad news.

I remember the weirdest things from the funeral. Dave and I were very tan. I was wearing a new Apple Green shirt I bought at Banana Republic. The line was long and I was surprised to see so many non-related people I knew. As we came closer to the caskets, we saw pictures and trinkets. The closer I came to the three caskets, the smaller I felt. My throat was tight. We stopped by Ben and Ana dressed so beautifully. We stopped and I thought about my own boys. I thought about loss. I thought about how childish I am and how short life is. We moved along until I stopped at Michelle’s casket. Of course I am crying as I write this. I was a small space in her world and I was overcome. She lay there. It was obvious that she was pregnant. I stopped and I could not move. She is a mother and she was gone. I could not stop thinking of all the times we met at pre-school. I liked her before I knew we were related. She was cool, calm and kind. I see the sun shining on her face as we talked outside the preschool. I stop and catch my breath.

I wanted to pull her up. I wanted to walk her right out of that room and tell her, “You can’t go. Not yet. Life got busy and we drifted apart. We are family.” And then it was our turn to say hello. Thank goodness. Michelle’s mom grabbed my hand, welcomed and thanked me. How can she be thanking me? And as Dave stood by Michelle’s dad it was eerie. Dave is physically a younger version of her dad. They are tall, thin and broad shouldered. Thank goodness they look so much alike because within seconds we were ushered over to the rest of the family and yes, they all look like Dave. We talked with all the aunts and then it was time to go.

And this is how they died.

On a quiet Salt Lake City Street a drunk 17 year old boy was driving alone, driving on the same road I found myself on, 2000 East. Somewhere around the I-80 underpass this boy lost control of his car. The Williams Family had no time. In a flash their life was forever changed. Almost immediately, Sam’s dad watched the last breath leave his mom’s body and in that moment he decided to forgive and then he moved forward.

Let me tell you, Kyle, Eli and I visited Sam after the accident. We knew it was not easy, yet Chris took a breath, forgave  and allowed his family to heal. I admit that on sunny days it is much easier to move forward. And on dark days, I still fight not to slip back. In my life I have been an idiot. Things that roll off will sometimes creep in. In those moments especially, I am aware that it is not always easy to heal or forgive. As I think about standing there wanting to desperately pull Michelle back into this world, I know I have to keep trying and keep healing. That is all we can do.

Then because I was not able to make a lefthand turn, I found myself turning right on 33rd South. I turned on 2000 East  right by La Puente. A few moments later I found myself driving under the same highway underpass. I was so focused on finding my way back to the highway, I was not sure how I got there until I was there. And then I thought about Michelle and healing. Seriously, it was like she was sitting right there next to me. In a drive under a dark highway underpass, I knew it was time to share my space in this. It was time to remember how grateful I am that  I met Michelle, how grateful I am that Kyle survived his ordeal, how grateful I am that I was able to have children and how grateful that somehow I am healing and the only way I heal is by forgiving and forgiving myself.  Really! Life is way too short not to heal and let go.

 

 

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Because I myself, am not sure where I stand with religion, I struggled with wether I should post the following video link. I guess you can take it or leave it. This being said, I want honor the Williams family and so I am posting it. Chris tells the story of his loss and healing like no one else can. I think it is pretty cool. The message of forgiveness is amazing!

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Today it felt like home

Dave, my blue hat & I

Before I start I may need to change the music. Eli says, “Did she really just say football?” followed with a, “This music scares me,” as we listen to the end of the song Red Football from the album Universal Mother. Sometimes I like Sinead; sometimes, like years at a time, I don’t.

“Yes Eli, they did say football and yes, the song is scaring me too.”

I forward to the next song, Seven Nation Army by The White Stripes. Please deep bass beat, please pump some energy back into me. Eli leaves the room. He needs to read. I need to write. Even an hour ago I was full of energy. Instead of writing, Dave and I ran errands: Starbucks, World Market & Jans Sporting Goods, all slowly sucking the life out of me. I had so much to say. Most of which I said to Dave, and to which he responded, “Yep.” Today I spent the day with four lovely women and I was feeling really inspired. And right now, well, I can hardly keep my eyes open — literally.

The Day I met Robin. July 31, 2006

We all met in different ways. I met Mary a long time ago through my brother, Bill. Robin and I met through Julie. Julie met me through my blog. Carrie and I met through Robin. And at approximately 11:00AM this morning I met Suzanne.  We have been planning this meeting for some time and today we all met at Carrie’s. Carrie had a lovely spread and I brought the Veggie Pigs.

Bracelet Eli made because Carrie taught him how to crochet & gave him that green beed

We did what women often do when they get together. We talked about things we usually keep to ourselves. What I can tell you is that towards the end, as I was exclaiming some wondrous wisdom that I cannot remember, I aspirated a piece of Pistachio. Carrie walked into the kitchen to get me some fresh water. I followed her, noticing the beautiful daylight. “I could stand here forever! It is so warm and sunny.”

With water in hand and because the other women patiently waited for me to catch by breath, I walked back into the other room and tried to finish my not-all-that-important thought. Ladies, thank you for waiting.

Earlier, as I sat there desperately needed to pee, but not wanting to miss a word, I waited until I could wait no more. I noticed the adorable bathroom sign hanging on the door and made my way over. As soon as I shut the door, I noticed that Carrie and I used the same type of tile on our bathroom floors. I was unusually distracted with the grout. I kept looking at different areas of her floor and could not leave the bathroom until I was sure their grout color was the same as ours or not. I returned to the super stimulating conversation to find Robin conveying her thoughts by standing up, utilizing her entire body in a sort of a dance-dance-revolution sort of way. She did this more than once and it was brilliant. Mary told us about France. She just returned from living there in the land of bon soir and baguettes and I could not hear enough about it. Carrie’s husband, who was at work, made the muffins. Somewhere in some thread we all discovered that I “dated” Suzanne’s cousin. I say “dated” quite loosely because I was never really sure we were “dating” even when we were dating. We hung out a lot. We even held hands once or twice. He made me dinner and while we were “dating” I made out with his friend. Ah, the good old days.

About the time I met Mary. My brother Bill & Me

Not once, but several times I sensed there was a common thread tying us together. Even though we are all over the spectrum, each of us was raised Mormon. At one point Robin insightfully inserted, “Even if you leave the Church, Mormonism never leaves you.” I think she is right and I told her as much. It defines who we are, and how we see the world is filtered through our Mormon lens. We all attended Brigham Young University, and as I listened to everyone recount their BYU experience it was apparent that things like heavy petting are to a BYU student the same as having sex for a student attending another university. We all get it. Some of us married young. Some of us didn’t. For me, in the Mormon culture, once I was twenty-two I felt like an old maid, an unworthy vessel who had missed the marriage opportunity. I am just scratching the surface here. As Mormons, active or not, we have a short hand for these experiences. Often I think this shorthand lends itself to the Mormons-are-a-Cult perception of non-Mormons. With our The-Church-of-Jesus-Christ-of-Latter-Day-Saints shorthand, we can talk about things like being called into “BYU standards” and with a few phrases like, “do you have a beard card,”or “there were boys in your bedroom,” or “your skirt is above your knee,” we all get it. And even if we, ourselves, were never called into “BYU Standards,” we have heard stories and we all know the fear.

We can talk about things like prayer and faith and having our faith shattered and we know. We were all taught in various ways that if you pray hard enough, God will answer your prayers. If you are worthy and righteous, things will be ok. We know the helpless feeling of banging our prayerful heads against the wall and feeling like it is we, not Thee, who does not have enough Faith. Some of us have prayed so hard our heads have exploded. We then used our agency to piece our heads back together, often with our central beliefs forever changed. I do not believe anyone who will tell you otherwise. Because even those who no longer attend or no longer believe still feel the pull and this particular pull DOES filter how we view the world.

Now what to do with that. Well today I was able to let my hair down, be honest, not feel judged and not feel so alone. Today it felt like home, a home I cannot wait to go back to. Thank you ladies.

The conversation was so good that this was the only picture I managed to take

 

COMMENTS ARE CLOSED. 🙂  This is a touchy feely post and did not think the comments needed to be turned on. This being said, I DO have A LOT to say about my 80’s HAIR!