What Does This Mean?

Take a look at some behavior that I've had lately, how I've started to view the world, then myself and tell me what you think this all might mean?

Example 1) A few months ago, I saw hundreds of crows sitting atop the trees right next to the Home Depot parking lot.  I find myself drawn to their crow caws, lured in by their acrobatic loop flying.  I pull into the parking lot, park in a prime location to view the ruckus created by these black winged birds.  I grab my handy binoculars (yes, this too has some type of meaning) from their storage compartment in my car, that I keep in my car, and watch these social creatures, making mental notes of their behavior, location, beak length, body size, and tail, spending nearly an hour mentally logging this along with their social roosting behavior.


Example 2) I have my daily 'date' with a Northern Harrier.  At about 1:00 each day I find myself long fully looking out the window of my office, searching for her side to side swoop as she hunts for field mice. On the days that she fails to show, I'm seriously bummed.

Starling on a wire 
http://www.flickr.com/photos
/mauricewoodworth/2835395156/

Example 3)  During the early fall of last year, I saw hundreds of little birds (I think they were starlings) sitting in a row on a telephone wire.  I'm driving by myself when I exclaim out loud, "look at how cool that looks. They are all spaced exactly the same distance from each other, I wonder what kind of internal mechanism makes these birds sync so well with each other."  Now mind you, I'm alone in the car.  Who do I think is going to answer me?  The birds??

Example 4)  While on my trail runs, I will quite often search the tree tops, top of poles, or cliffs rather then looking at the twisting, turning, root and rock bound ground (yes, this is how my recent foot stress fracture happened - stepping on a rock wrong).  When I find a bird, I quickly try to identify it before it flies away.  At times when I am graced by a hawk soaring overhead, I will stop dead in my tracks, and watch the magnificent winged beauty soar until it's out of sight.  In the mean time, my dog is yards ahead of me looking back in wonder as to when I'm going to start moving - I look at my dog and say, 'Only when this magnificent creature above is out of view'.

Siskin
http://curiousanimals.net/
birds/siskins-singing-birds-profile-and-facts/

Example 5) The other morning I awoke to the chorus of hundreds of tiny song birds out my windows. I know they were singing to me, thanking me for the food I place out for them.  I layed in bed enjoying their tweets, and thinking that I couldn't think of a better way to wake up then to the sound of happy little birdies.  I wrapped my self in my comforter and allowed my self to be lulled back to sleep by the calming vocals of these locals.

Example 6) During this past winter, I was getting ready to turn down my road, when I notice this winged creature, start to stoop after it's prey from the top of a power line.  It's wings sleeked back, talons down and out, ready to grab the unknown prey.  I suddenly come to a stop on the side of the road and exclaim out loud, "I think I've just spotted my first Rough Legged Hawk on my home territory!"  I grab my binoculars (yeah, they are still in my car) and watch this hawk pull up from the ground, talons empty, and land on a farmer's sprinkler system.  I watch this hawk for several minutes, before continuing the quarter of a mile home.  As soon as reasonably possible I grab my bird books (yes, I own 4) and sit down to make sure I really saw a Roughie.

Rough Legged Hawk
http://birdsofessex.
blogspot.com/2011_10_01_archive.html

I sit there with my bird books spread open before me, comparing the Red Tail to the Rough Legged Hawk.  Awe-struck at the sight of this breath-taking creature, wishing I would have taken a closer look at it's legs.  For if  I would have I would've noticed feathers that ran all the way down it's leg's creating downy like leg warmers. Instead I concentrated on it's wings, looking at the darker upper 'elbow' region (please forgive me my ornithologists for not remembering the scientific name of that location on a bird). After much looking, I've confirmed that I really did identify a Roughie.

After confirming my identification, I got so excited, wanting to shout out loud, in a wave of unrecognizable noises that would have gone something like; wahooo, whoop , whoopee.  I however, refrained since the inhabitants that also reside in this house (also known as my hubby and daughter), would have no freakin' idea what was going on and would consider having me locked up!

Here's where I start putting 2 and 2 together - admitting to myself that: If it looks like a duck and walks like a duck, then it must be a duck.

So after reading the examples above from this past year, I agree and fully accept that I'm turning into a self proclaimed BIRD NERD and I love it!  Birds are everywhere, they grace those who look for beauty in the everyday, for those who appreciate their awe, and to those who take a moment to look around, to them they are numerous and yet not enough.

Masters of Wind and Air - Winged Birds - I love 'em.

A Life In Review??? Yeah - Right.

Today, I turned forty.  Yes, you read that right the big 4-0.

I remember when I was a kid and someone said they were turning forty, I was dumbfounded and couldn't even comprehend living to be that age.  My young mind couldn't even wrap around the concept of living for forty years. I really thought forty year old's had one foot in the grave, napping all the time in their rocking chair with their blanket covering them to keep the chill away, a grumpy attitude towards everything young and awake, creaky bones, swelling ankles, busy planning their funeral, and waiting for old man reaper to come collect their ticket, or something else like that.

Here's the odd thing, I don't feel like what I thought a forty year old should feel (not on most days).  In my head I'm still a rock solid twenty-eight year old (until I look in the mirror and notice a few more wrinkles and other things going south that use to go north)!  Take the mirror away and I'm a twenty-eight year old, with her heels kickin up, screamin let's go, do it again,  jumping in feet first without looking type of attitude.

Yeah, it sounds like I'm in need of changing my views on what age I'd consider old.  I'm thinking 90 is a good old ripe age, it's a hell of a long time to live too (sorry Grandpa, but that really is a looong time).

A typical post of this type would now turn into a 'Life in Review' type.  It would cover items like; what I've learned, what I should do different, what if, what is, blah,blah, blah type of post.  But hey, this is me, and this isn't how I think (remember the twenty-eight year old living in my mind).  I hate to break it to you, but this is NOT the direction I'm going.  Sorry for those who may be looking for a bit of advice, I'm saving that for another day....  Instead, I'm turning to a conversation:

Earlier today I said to my sister (who by the way is only a year younger then me), "I'm still trying to figure out what I want to do when I grow up." 

My sister started to giggle in that tone. The tone that meant, 'umm you should know by now, your forty for goodness sakes.  You have one leg in the grave, and the other one just about ready to fall in'.

She soon followed her giggle with, "You are forty, you know?"  

My mind want to scream at her, 'What you mean since I'm forty, I'm suppose to have this already figured out?  Well guess what, this forty year old doesn't quite know what she's going to do when she grows up!'  However I calmly (I think) said, "Yeah, but I'm only half way through living!" 

That's right, I still have at least forty more years of living.  A hundred years ago, that was equivalent to two life times!  In modern day America, I have the luxury of living two life times.  This means that I can make-over, change, re-create, or live another life at least two times.  I've spent  my first life time (in a brave, lively, ferocious, pleased, and happy manner), and now I have another one to look forward to and figure out what I want to 'do' and 'be'.

I still don't know what I want to do when I grow-up, but here's one thing I can say about my next forty years. I'm going to work better on getting that damn Sheila in my head to shut up.  I'm going to ignore her fun deflating tone and get out there and act like I'm 28 (well a bit more sober at least).  I'm going to jump in, feet first, not looking back, and grinning all the way.  

I do have a list of items I'd like to do before the old man reaper comes, you can review it here.

Wishing to hear those words - memories of mom- Watch out for the 'mother's curse'

On of the very few bridal
pics from my mom's wedding

I sit here at the table, surrounded by items, items that I know would make my mom smile. If she were here, I'd also see her visibly biting her tongue, cheek, and then lips in an attempt to keep the words, "I told you so" from coming out of her mouth.

Right now, today, I'd take those words.  I'd take them with a hug, a huge giant, never letting go hug.  The type of hug that you give to your loved ones that you haven't seen in ages.  Or the hug after someone returns from danger, where you weren't sure they would return alive.  That type of hug, is the type that I'd wrap my mother in just to hear those words uttered in love from her mouth.

Light Pink and lime stripes
with island themed curtains.

My darling creative little girl, has taken her artistic abilities and has decided to apply them towards re-decorating her room and painting her walls.  Now let me tell you that this is not the first time this year, or summer, that she has painted her room.

A couple of months ago, I came home from work to find two little busy bees downstairs in her room. I opened the door to see the wall covered in blue painters tape taped in horizontal stripes, the giant painting tarp on the floor covering the carpet, and two girls with paint dotted hands and arms applying a new coat of found paint to the walls.  I look at the progress they had made, laughed and shut the door.  Letting the two girls finish their art project.

Minty green walls with yellow circles

Well, with how much fun Ireland had in painting and decorating a few months ago, she's decided to re-do her room - again - this time in an island theme.  She decided to use a theme with colors that we don't have in stock (or house).  Besides, all the left over paint has already been used on her first paint job.  This time around we decided that she'll need to pay for her room make-over her self.

With all her creative juices flowing from her mind to her hand, she drew pictures of what she wants to do with her room.  She took all her hard earned money and bought the blue corduroy bean bag (which the darn cat promptly peed on), and new paint colors for her room.  She then bought the material to make curtains for her closet, her closet that has a perfectly fine working door, which was promptly removed when the design was written down.

Fun island print fabric (notice the
great stitching - thanks mom)

She choose a fun island flower material that would work perfect for her new decor.  One problem with this new 'door' it required me to dig deep in my arsenal of education from my mom to remember how to sew curtains...

For those that didn't know my mother, she was an accomplished professional sewer.  She could, if she so desired, sew up an entire new wardrobe for my sister and myself in less then a day.  My mother owned the highest quality sewing machines money could buy, she had one all purpose Bernina sewing machine, and at least 2 Surgers.  My mother had such a passion for sewing (that quite often went unused), that she turned her passion into hoarding, for she had enough material tucked away in boxes to open her own sewing store!

When I was around 8 years old, I remember my mom making me sit down at her sewing machine and practice sewing.  No, not like you think.  She'd make me sew on a lined paper with out thread in the machine so I could perfect sewing in a straight line.  Oh, how I detested this!  I usually ended up distracted, daydreaming and have rows of waves, just like the rolling ocean, all over my 'practice' paper.

I just wanted to have a project to work on, not perfect any type of skills!  As time, I swear it was over the course of an entire year, my mom slowly transitioned me from lined paper to unlined paper, then to strips of  fabric.  Not fabric cut out in any shape, but squares of fabric for me to practice sewing in a straight line.  Once I had this 'skill' mastered, I was then finally able to learn how to read a pattern.  Good lord, all I wanted was for her to just show me how to do it and then let me loose!  I didn't care what all the darts, lines, and dots meant.  Just let me cut!

After much attitude, from me, my mom finally let me loose on my own.  Well, I don't know if she really let me loose, I think it was one of those moments when I asked dad instead of mom to finish the bermuda shorts I was sewing.  Dad, not really awake, (which by the way, I learned I could always get my way if I asked my dad a question while he was sleeping) told me sure go ahead and finish your shorts.  So to town I went.

I sewed my shorts,  finishing them all by myself.  I did lack the verbal or written instructions on how to sew the crotch area of the two legs together. Ahh, but that didn't matter, I still finished them.  Boy did they look great!  However, they felt a little bulky in the crotch area, and for some reason they rid high on the inside of my legs.  Unlike 'normal' shorts with a straight bottom seam, my shorts had a bottom seam that was hemmed upwards from the outside of my leg to the inside.

In adolescent cockiness, I didn't care.  I wore those shorts all day long, tugging and pulling on the inside to keep them from clumping too much between my legs and rubbing them raw.

As soon as I saw my mother's car pull in the drive way, I ran, with my bulky inseam, bull-legged towards her.  As I got closer, I saw my mother's expressionless face slowly, ever so slowly turn confused, then straight into laughter (this by the way didn't happen often).  By the time I ran my bull legged self to tell her about my shorts that I just finished, she was laughing - laughing harder then I've ever heard her laugh.

My face quickly dropped from an excited accomplishment, to fear.  My mother has lost her mind, and I'm in direct aim of her craziness.  I stood in front of my laughing mother, waiting for the right moment to show off my shorts.  Between laughing gasps, she slowly gets the following words out. How. hahaha. Did. hahha. You. hahaha. Finish. hahah. Those. snort. hahah. Shorts? hahah, tears, and snort.

Fear racing through my head, the thought of 'what in the world is going on with my mom'?

I stammered to respond. I explained to her that I followed her instructions, and finished my shorts.  I continued on that since I didn't know how to sew the inseam and crotch area, I just connected them and sewed them together in a circle.

At this point, the neighbors, in confusion and wonder as to what has happened to my mother, start coming outside and staring at the two of us in the drive way.  I'm standing there tugging at the inside of my shorts, my streaky brown hair blowing in the evening wind, my brace covered smile slowly dropping, and these damn shorts still clumping up in the inseam.  Oh, if only my mother had a camera, the sight of me in front of her would be worth a million. Her stubborn, impatient, brace covered, short tugging, innocent, confused teenage daughter staring at her.

My mother slowly, ever so slowly, starts to get a grip on her snorting and asks how long I've worn those shorts?  In proud embarrassment I reply, "All day."

She then tries to keep her laughter at bay while asking me, "Did the inseam and crotch area feel a bit clumpy?"

Shifting my weight from side to side, trying to hide the need to tug at the inside of my shorts, I say, "No."  Now I didn't say no out of really not knowing, but rather from pride of not acknowledging that I may not really have known what I was doing.

The finished curtains for my daughter's closet

My mom then takes me inside where she tutors me on the inseam sewing of my shorts.  I learned that rather then gathering the two inside legs together and sewing them together in a circle, you actually sew the crotch together in a straight line.  Yes, those damn straight lines.

Later that evening, my mother later took those bulky inseam shorts and hung them on the dining room wall, like fine art.  Hung up there as a reminder of that 'hilarious' day when I refused to be patient and learn from the master.   Yes, my 'fine' art displayed for all to see and then hear the lesson I learned in those shorts.

For the next several years, I learned to take her slow instructions in stride.  Not ask my dad for permission to sew.  Later on the rule came into play that I'm not allowed to ask Dad for anything while he's sleeping.  (I think that rule came about when I asked to use the car, and I didn't have a license. Of course I got caught by my mother.)

Margaret Ann Grange on her
last birthday 2/3/00

So here I sit 12 years after my mom's death, wishing I'd hear those words from her mouth  'I told you Christel, one day you'll be glad  I made you learn to sew straight!'

'Yes mom, I am glad.  I'm also glad that I got to hear and remember your laughter, even if it the time I didn't find the humor in the situation.  Thirty years later, I find it just as humors as you did, possibly a bit more.  For I have a daughter just like me who too asked her dad if she could finish sewing her curtains on her own.  While working on them she accidentally jammed the machine and pretend it wasn't her (oh how the mother's curse comes true - I only wish you were here to watch it unfold.)

Thank you mom, you were right.

Tuesday's Teeming with Treasures - Super High Flyin' Don

The other day, I took my father-in-law, Don, to the VA Hospital to have some tests ran (he's ok, other then the usual tragic 'the sky is falling' attitude).

While Don was whisked away for his procedure (whisked is not a word to really describe the VA, but it sounds better then how it really went down), I was busy working in the waiting area.

A couple of hours later, I look up from my laptop.  Standing in front of me was quite a sight!

Much like Don looked,
 but this is
Kramer from Seinfeld

His hair was an entangled, disheveled, standing straight up on end messy, much like Kramer from Seinfeld.   One sleeve partially rolled up to above his elbow, the other completely down and unbuttoned at the wrist.  His button up plaid shirt half tucked in on his left side, and un-tucked on his right side, his baggy levi's barely hanging on his hips.

Swaying side to side, holding his hands out for balance, he looks at me with that look of, 'What's next, where am I?' kind of stare.

I quickly place my laptop on the ground, jump out of my seat to help him.  As soon as I place my hands on his upper arms to help calm the spins, he bursts into the giggles like a little girl!   Through the giggles he says to me, '"No, no don't help - this is kind of fun!"

At that point, I lost it!  I fell back into my chair laughing so hard at the sight before me.  Between the two of we were calling so much attention to ourselves that the entire waiting room full of vets and their families start laughing along as well.

Yes, this is just the beginning of an afternoon with Super High Flying Don!  

Tuesday's Teeming with Treasures are quick motivational notes from my life.  Mainly I post them for my use, to help me treasure each day, focus on the AMAZING-NESS that surrounds me.  Most importantly they help me remember to get out of me head and into my true self.

My Baby's Growing Up and I'm Not Coping So Well...

Ireland at the Yankee's game, she lost her first tooth there too.

This past month or so, my daughter and her friend (who loves to clean and de-junk, odd I know) decided to clean out Ireland's play room.  All the stuff that they thought she was 'too old' for, was quickly removed.  Bags and bags of stuff kept coming up from downstairs with the words 'donate' written across them.  I had no idea there was that much stuff down there!

The bags were piled high in the garage, so high in fact that we officially lost the north wall!  We decided to keep the bags there for a few days so we could go through them and double check that she wasn't getting rid of things she shouldn't be, and to give her a chance to re-claim anything she has second thoughts about.

A few weeks go by, before we decide to go through the bags.  We open the first bag, filled to the brim with stuffed animals!  Kyle starts pulling out the animals, he notices one in particular and holds it out.  It was one of her first Build a Bear animals - yeah, you know the kind; the hundred dollar, pull at your wallet strings stuffed animal.  He holds it up high for our daughter to see, and asks 'Are you sure?'

Work Theme -Getting ready for back to school (aka work)

Laughing Buddha
Tanzhe Temple Beijing

It's August, and that's when I start getting a bit antsy, my heart start racing, my mind won't stop spinning, I start to feel the beginning of an anxiety attack creep in.

The summer, as I've come to know it - working in the yard, Tuesday Bay day, sleeping on the trampoline (the older you are, the less comfy it is), star gazing, creative conjuring, and idyllic frolicking all come to an end.  Soon my days begin to be filled with early to bed, alarm clocks, schedules, morning scrambles, rushing here and there, deadlines looming, time slipping away, all in preparation to greet giggling grins all day long - yes it's back to work I go.

This year, my work day will be so much more relaxed.  I will embrace that working with children (and their parents) creates a whole different set of deadlines and tasks.  In fact, I'm going to remove deadlines and to-do's from my list of work related words.  No more, done, caput.  I will focus on the great opportunity that I have to share my day with children - the future leaders of America.

I will smile more.
When you smile, this breaks the ice and opens the doorway of communication.  After all, the goal of any school is to provide the best education possible for the children attending.

I will focus on the child, rather then on what the parent throws out to the world.  A child is not necessarily the  reflection of their parent (although the apple usually falls pretty close to the tree).  I can help teach children some life tools to add to their tool kit of life.  Tools and skills that will help them learn to embrace their creativity, uniqueness, passions, and life force.

This year Transformer, Flash Gordon, J&H, Caterwaul, and others, will fill me with humorous stories that I will then share with you.

My daughter will remember the funny stories I'm going to share rather then the frustrating ones of working with children and their parents (who are usually in denial).

This school  year, my work word will be:  LAUGH

Tuesday's Teeming With Treasures - Giant Heads of Broccoli

Just the other day, I swear, I planted 5 small broccoli plants in my vacant freshly tilled organic garden.  During their short lives, I've watered and fed them with some home made good for the earth compost.


To the side and behind the broccoli, I planted pumpkins with the idea that when the pumpkin vines twisted, turned, and took over, the broccoli would be harvested and ready to be turn back to mother earth.

Today was the day.  I tiptoed through the pumpkin leaves around the bachelor button flowers and to the broccoli.  Nestled in the middle of it's leaves, were heads the size of cabbages. I sliced the heads from their fibrous stocks, piling them in and on top of the garden harvest basket.  Each head so large that I could only place one in the basket before piling them on top of each other. 

Cleaning the heads, slicing them smaller, and steaming them in the steamer.  Bright healthy green trees on our plates to eat.  The flavor so fresh and filling one wishes I'd planted 30 more!






Tuesday's Teeming with Treasures are quick motivational notes from my life.  Mainly I post them for my use, to help me treasure each day, focus on the AMAZING-NESS that surrounds me.  Most importantly they help me remember to get out of me head and into my true self.

Maggie My Muse

Let me tell you about Maggie - Maggie my muse.   

Romancing Maggie in the Garden

 She's a fickle sort of gal, and feels that giving her a name would hinder her artistic flow - thus making it hard to pin down the appropriate one, Maggie.  

Maggie has a wind blown style about her, the one that flows and billows in the wind creating wispy texture about.  She survives on romance and dreamy air - if you want her to swoon, sip wine in the garden at dusk.  The twilight of dusk is her magical time, fairy friends find time.


Maggie is lost in time and matters of cordial comfort.  She'll bestow her creations when they are ready - waking you as the story unfolds and propelling your forward all night long.  She'll exhaust your physical platform, pushing you past your known.   She flows through time like the eagles soar above, with astounding ease and grace.  


She lusts for loads of naps, rejuvenating her spirit in order to tap her trundle of inspiration.  


She vehemently hates stress, to-do-lists, alarm clocks, should haves, and could haves -  foreign to her soul.  Zen is a must, if you want her stay.   

Maggie a seat for you

Maggie my muse keeps me craving her company.

Tuesday's Teeming with Treasures 'I Can't Suck'

The other evening my daughter was laying in my bed, on my side no less.  Eating what looked like a homemade frozen pop.

I asked her to eat her food on the floor. She causally said she wasn't eating (technically she's right).  I then asked her to suck on the floor.  

She calmly looks at me and says, "Mom, I can't suck, I'm too awesome!"

Now if only all adults, and children, would embrace this awesomeness attitude, we'd all be living the life we were meant to live.



Tuesday's Teeming with Treasures are quick motivational notes from my life.  Mainly I post them for my use, to help me treasure each day, focus on the AMAZING-NESS that surrounds me.  Most importantly they help me remember to get out of me head and into my true self.

A Forgotten Primal Passion Re-Ignited. Why It's Good to Feel Like a Rat Running on It's Wheel

I've spent the last 10 years or so learning to love to run long distance outdoors.  Now don't get me wrong, I love to run, but not too far (like 1/4 of a mile max)!

I have been blessed with a very powerful and strong body (thanks to genetics) that helps me excel at running sprints.

In high school, I was AMAZING (the older I get the more amazing I was)! I was a better then average, almost collegiate quality sprinter, however the man that was in my life at the time persuaded me to not apply and then turn down the scholarships I did receive - that's a story for another time.

I remember spending hours, upon hours after school with my great runner friend, Melissa. We'd run the stairs, the track, do strides, lift weights, massage out each others' knots from such hard work. 


We streamlined our bodies into musclular, lean, power packed, sprinting machines!  

We could outperform anyone on our team, and we liked that!  

I remember one of my favorite things to do was see how much weight I could lift on the leg press. My goal was to be able to lift at least 300 pounds - almost 3 times as much as I weighed. This one day I remember a football player came to use the leg press after I just finished. It was pretty ego-tistacal when he had to take off over 100 pounds in order to uses it. I had the most muscular thigh quad muscles (looking back that wasn't the best strategy) and I was proud of them!

Now back to the reason I told you about my love affair with the high school gym. I recently got a killer deal on a gym membership that's only minutes from my house. At first I was a bit hesitant since I love the outdoors and I love running outside an being in the mountains. I just love having them as my personal gym. However, I have started to notice that when I run outside, my knees hurt longer and more then usual.

I decided to go for the membership, knowing that some of my knee pain is due to a weakness or imbalance in some of the my leg muscles.

While meeting with a personal trainer, I was telling her that my main goal was to strengthen a few key muscles for the knee so that they don't hurt as much while running. I also explained that I'd use the gym when the weather wasn't ideal outside for me to play in. After our meeting she helped create a plan that would fit my needs and still leave lots of outdoor play time.

After going to the gym for a couple of weeks, I can tell you why so many people run on treadmills for hours at a time. No, it's not because of the TV they watch (but that does help you take your mind off of the fact that you're esentially a mouse on one of those rat wheels), but because it doesn't hurt your knees!




After running on the treadmill, I'm still able to walk down the stairs without shooting pain up my leg, and then walk back up!

I've also found how much I truley LOVE lifting weights. 

There's something so primal about maxing your muscles to near exhaustion, that really pumps me up. I forgot how much I LOVE it! I feel so at home on the weight machines that sometimes I find myself transformed to 20 years ago!


Lifting weights, running stairs, sprinting around the track with a great friend, knowing we were all that, and laughing at ourselves along the way.

I can't wait for my gym day - tomorrow.

BTW, I still play outside 1 or 2 days a week so I can still maintain that base fitness, but man can my knees hurt some days.

Tuesday's Teeming with Treasures! Timely After Thoughts

I received an email the other day, literally in the nick of time, from my dear aunt Marilyn Houser.  This email was the answer to many unanswered questions about a project that is currently my greatest work - Friday's with Frank.

I felt I had exhausted all avenues of research and I kept coming up empty handed.  I was just about to 'hang my hat up' on this bit of research, when I received this lifeline of an email.

I'm sure Marilyn had no idea how long I've been searching for this information (just in case you wanted to know - 4 months).  For what ever reason she felt she should send this over, I thank you from the bottom of my soul.

When I think all of my avenues have been sought, it's then that the answers come.


Tuesday's Teeming with Treasures are quick motivational notes from my life.  Mainly I post them for my use, to help me treasure each day, focus on the AMAZING-NESS that surrounds me. Most importantly they help me remember to get out of me head and into my true self.

Changing the View Looking Back at Me

The other day I heard a great suggestion that has changed the view looking back at me - literally.

Through running miles and miles and miles, I have been blessed with the ability of deep concentration and focus - Yes Dad it finally happened! However when I'm in the 'zone' my facial muscles relax, thus creating this look on my face of pure pissy-ness.

I have this natural upside down arch in my lips that make me look angry when I'm not smiling (I so wish they were naturally full and kissable like my sister Rebekah). Yes, genetics really pulled the dice on this one! I'm naturally a positive, upbeat person who enjoys conversing with others, however people will avoid me because I look so darn mean and angry when I'm focused.

This natural pissy-ness look also carries it way into my new best friend - the mirror.  When I look at myself in the mirror, I took angry and then Sheila (remember her, the mean witch in my mind) takes this moment and sneaks her way back onto her throne of lies and rude comments.

As soon as Sheila has taken her place, I suddenly start picking out all the 'flaws' on my face and body.  There's nowhere safe from her nit picking, negative B.S.   Suddenly my great mood has turned - now, I really am pissy!

What a jerk Sheila is, just going about ruining my day!

Well, I heard thee BEST piece of advice from Julie Parker during an interview with The Self Love Revolution hosted by Amy Smith and Andrea Owen (this is totally a life changing revolution and one that I suggest every woman should be a part of.  You can still get their audios to also change your life for the better by clicking here).  Sorry got a bit off topic...

Julie Parker gave a tip that totally changed how I look at myself in the mirror.  It's such a simple, yet effective tool:

SMILE! 

Smile at yourself in the mirror. Each and every time you see your reflection anywhere, smile! Just start out smiling at your self. Smile at yourself as you walk by until you are no longer able to see your self in the mirror.

I have to admit, I felt a bit silly doing this at first.  I found it was a difficult thing to do, to be so nice to myself, especially when I've been so mean for so long.  Habits take a while to change.  They need to be replaced with better ones, like smiling at yourself in the mirror.

The first week I totally felt cheesy.  Sheila loved to mock me when I started, I kept smiling though.  Slowly Sheila took note, and started becoming small and disappear into her dark underworld.  At the end of the first week, I finally got over the silly-ness feeling.  

During the 2nd week, I noticed that I mentally started to feel better about myself each time I smiled at me.  Soon I found I was smiling more then ever before, and the world smiled back through the mirror.

Now I'm in the 3rd week, and holy smolly - does this tip work!  I found myself feeling a bit down, due to a loss in the family.  With my mind elsewhere I forgot to smile at myself one morning.  I walked out of the bathroom, stopped, I had this feeling like I forgot something.  I turned around, went back into the bathroom, looked at myself and smiled!  

I looked right at my myself and smiled, a true cheesy, just gotta be me smile.

Imagine my surprise when I iimmediately felt better, more calm, and refreshed.   (I did stop prior to the moment where I should point at myself in the mirror, while winking, followed by a 'looking sexy now baby' comment.  I kind of felt that would've taken it a bit to far, at least for a beginner like me.)

To smile at my reflection and mean it

I suggest you try it.  Smile at yourself like you do your best friend. Tell me how it goes after you've been doing this for a while.

Tuesday's Teeming with Treasures! Patience or I Get the 'tude'

Have you ever noticed that when your child has an attitude towards you, it's generally their way of getting some control back in their lives.

Yeah, I've started noticing this from my daughter.  When I'm busy barking orders at her (which I hate when people do this to me), and don't give her the time to do it - she throws me some of her 'tude in an attempt to get some control in her life choices.  (Christel, important note here! She'll get it done, just on her time, not yours....)

Tuesday's Teeming with Treasures are quick motivational notes from my life.  Mainly I post them for my use, to help me treasure each day, focus on the AMAZING-NESS that surrounds me, probably most importantly help me remember to get out of me head and into my true self.

Attracting Matt - What Does a Shallow Dish and a Hole in My Organic Garden Have to Do with Anything?

Being an avid organic Gardner, (which just drives my husband crazy. I won't allow him to use any chemicals at all in my garden - he does however sneak chemicals on the lawn when he thinks I won't notice.  Silly guy hasn't he learned that by now I notice everything?) I've been trying to find a solution to an over abundance of grasshoppers dining on my plants.

After a bit of research, I found two great options:
Chickens and Toads

My first choice would be to get me some chickens! We'd have fresh eggs, they're natural aerators (through their ground scratching), they LOVE to eat bugs, and they'd provide natural fertilizer to the yard.

I've been wanting chickens since we've moved out to the country.  However my husband, being a city guy, will have nothing to with farm animals on our land.  During my research, I thought that I'd finally found a solution to convince him that chickens were a great idea.  I learned that they not only eat grasshoppers, but spiders too!

Nope, no matter how much convincing and begging, he wasn't going to give in.

My second option is a toad!  A gnarly, healthy, knobby, rugged, local toad.  I knew that toads live just up in the foothills from us (about a mile away), because I see them when ever I run at dusk.  Now a toad isn't a farm animal.  Who is my husband to say anything about a local toad moving in.

Now to research toad attraction to my garden - who by the way don't eat your veggies like the chickens will.

I found that toads like to burrow in cool, damp, shady spots. Now here's the thing, our yard isn't old enough to provide lots of damp shady spots for them to burrow in and live.

Imagination, here's your cue! So I call upon my imagination and figure how to create a toad pent-house haven (let me tell you, if I were a toad, I'd totally live here!)

I got a large shallow terracotta tray, built a shallow hole under it, and placed it near my ornamental grasses growing next to my garden.  I then created a 'rain fall' from our irrigation pipes that'd fill the shallow dish and keep the ground wet around it.  Perfect!

Once I finished the toads pent-house, I thought, and felt (very important step here), what it would be like to walk out to my garden and find  all my vegetables in pristine condition.  The leaves and veggies would be untouched by those jumping flying grasshoppers.  I felt what it would be like to walk around and not flinch when an unexpected large flying grasshopper jumps out at me - they still startled me even after almost 40 years.  Ahh what a great addition this toad would make to my organic garden.

Then I let it be.

I would imagine a toad living under that tray, and think about how exciting it would be to one day find him in my garden happily gorging himself on grasshoppers.  


Then I'd let it be - not worry, not stress, not obsess. 

I even let the nasty growth that builds on the bottom of the tray stay (my dogs love getting a drink out of it - so gross).

To my husband, I've become a bit crazy.  Preparing, setting up and feeling what it would be like to have a garden toad, before we EVEN have a garden toad. I kept just telling him, and my daughter, that a toad will come, I know it. I've sent it out to the universe, and I'm letting the universe figure out 'the how' a toad will make it's way to this upscale toad house.

A couple of weeks later,  I was over at a friends house, when a teenage boy thought he would try to scare a few of us gals by shoving this extremely large (about the size of a dinner plate) toad in our face and yelling 'blahh' at the same time.

I quickly jumped up, not in grossness, but in excitement.  I grabbed the toad out of the kids possession, and almost kissed it.  I did refrain from kissing it, only because it would confirm the belief of many that I may be off my rocker a bit.  (BTW I rock on my rocker!)

The owner of the house, Matt, piped up, "Yeah I've got several of these toads around the yard, however this one hangs out on my driveway every night."  That was my cue.

To my husband's dismay, we drove home with a toad!

A toad named Matt.

Here's a close-up of Matt

Here I am showing Matt his
 toad pent-house

By the time we got home, it was late at night.  My daughter and I step into the darkness of the garden, and quickly show Matt his new home.  We let him loose and watched him hop away in the darkness. We stood there for a moment and let the feeling of being wild toad owners wash over us. (How cool is that!)

While working in my garden during the day, I try not to lift and look for Matt in the toad pent-house, especially since they are crepuscular animals (out during dusk and dawn). I'm just letting, not obsessing, over Matt. He is a wild local type of toad after all.

I just let him be, let him be him, and do his thing.

The other night, my neighbor tells my husband that he saw this really large toad in his rocks.   He couldn't believe how big it was.  I knew he saw  Matt.



I sure hope he returns, cause I know of a great toad pent-house in the garden next door!

Brilliant Ideas, Fireworks, and Rattlesnakes!

July, 4th, America's birthday.  A day spent with family, friends, and watching fireworks amongst strangers sprawled out under the night sky with a blanket claiming your spot, and another blanket claiming another family's next to you, and then another, and another, and another, and so forth.  As you turn and look in all four directions of your blanket, you realize you are surrounded by a sea of blankets - and you can't get out!

To battle against this elbow to elbow sea of blankets, we decided to hike up to Half Moon Rock and watch the fireworks.   It'd be perfect!  We'd have the best view around.  We'd have the entire valley before us, we would see firework displays from Farmington to Pleasant View to West Haven, as well illegal ones too. Best of all, we'd be the only ones around - bonus!


We began our hike at dusk. The weather was just about perfect. The sun's rays weren't beating down, heating the trail as well as our bodies, a steady whispering wind attempted to keep us cool, there was just enough light at this point that we didn't need our headlamps. Ahh it's a magical time of day.

In our sweat induced exhaustion we'd stop every few steps to catch a glimpse of the valley below us. Then one of us would try to convince the others that this resting spot would be perfect, there's no need to go further up.  However, we knew that the view awaiting us would be unbelievable from atop the jutted rock.

We continue on the double wide trail until we reach the bottom of Half Moon Rock.  In order to get on top of Half Moon Rock, one needs to climb the steeper (I swear it's 90 degrees straight up) single trek trail that is rutted with loose slippery stone.  You have to decide to climb in the slippery stone rut with it's multiple roots to help you, or you take the top of the rut where there's no roots to help you get your footing as well as no rocks to take you on a ride right back down!  We decided to take the rut, it looked to be easier in allowing us to start and stop as many times as we'd need to.

Super Shep, that's our dog, is leading the way right up the side of the rock.  I'm right behind him, followed by my husband, and then our daughter (who is such a champ to keep going when it's late and her legs hurt).  I'm slowly placing one heavy lead filled foot in front of the other, when I swear on my mother's grave, Shep stands up on his back two paws and jumps backwards and is standing next to me!

In astonishment, I look up to see what's going on with Shep (I think he may have still been on his two hind paws).  What do I see about 5 feet right in front of me!  The BIGGEST rattle snake (partially coiled up and shaking his rattler in anger) that I've ever encountered in the wild!  I grab Shep, who may have finally got back down on all 4 paws, and quickly walk away backwards.  Now mind you this isn't the type of trail that you could go down backwards, but somehow I did.  As I'm magically stepping backwards, I'm loudly cautioning - 'Rattler straight ahead!'

At this advantage point we are about 20 feet away.
Notice the snake on the right of the trail.
Take a look at the slick ravine in the middle - that'll be important later.

My brave girl, in disbelief, stops dead in her track. Then her nature loving inquiry takes over as she moves forward a bit to take a closer look. For fear of her turning into rattler food , my husband and I sternly tell her go back where she was.

The various other times that I've ran into a rattler, they usually move along once they know they aren't in danger. Then I'm able to also move along when I know I'm no longer in danger as well. It's nature's win -win.

We wait for the giant rattler to move along so we could pass and take our position on top of the rock. Nope, not a chance. This huge sucker just freakin laid there like, 'this is my trail - go get your own'. We waited for a few minutes longer hoping he'd change his mind - nope he's still claiming it.

Here's the same view point, just a close up of the HUGE snake

In my brilliance, I thought I'd try to startle the rattler back off of the trail. I started to throw small rocks close to it to get it move away. Nope didn't faze him, he didn't even slither his tongue at us. I then decided that those rocks must've been too small, so I got me some bigger ones to throw close to him. Still didn't bother him! Well if one rock doesn't do the trick, then more rocks that land in the bushes next to him otta work (see how close those buses are)! I then grabbed three big rocks, and threw them into the bushes right next to him - Yep that did it!

Suddenly, without any warning this huge ass snake is slipping down the slippery rocks in the ravine - and he's ANGRY! He's shaking his rattler, and on a collision course with Super Shep and I.  I see the snake slipping out of control, over rocks, bringing a rock slide of rocks with him (check out the ravine on the 1st pic). He can't get a grip onto anything, which just makes him madder, and boy is he BIG!

I scream, "He's coming down - go!"

Super Shep takes to running like he's full of grace and can maneuver over and around anything. [Have I mentioned this dog quite often misses steps at home, falls on his face, or runs into the wall full force? It's rather entertaining to watch!] Shep, in his new found grace, leaves me in the dust as if to say, 'hehe you're gonna be snake food, not me'!

Super Shep maneuvers his way right to down to Ireland.  In her fear, she grabs a hold of him - and off they go!  In super flash speed and grace, Super Shep whisks her down the steep slope.  If I were a bettin gal, which I am, I'd bet you all that Super Shep carried Ireland saddle style down on his back to safety!

Here we are, in safety, with Super
Shep peeking between us as we
wait for the fireworks to start.

Once down the steep hill, we decided, unanimously, that one of those nice flat spots we saw earlier down the trail would be just perfect to watch the fireworks from.

Just in case you were wondering, we all made it back home, including Super Shep with out being bitten!  Here's some great pics of the valley and the fireworks that we saw.

What a view!
This pic is of North Ogden's fireworks

In retrospect, I think next time I run into a rattler on top of a slide, or steep slope, I'm not gonna  throw rocks at it when I'm waiting at the bottom. I think I'll just let him have the slide. :)

This pic is cool cause you can see
two different cities' fireworks
at the same time

This is the very next shot where
both cities are on display

Dimple Super Powers - And How my Dog, Allie, Taught Me Love

Dimples, oh don't we love dimples, especially on babies when they first learn to smile! Dimples, whether on the cheeks, or the chin come with their own super powers of cuteness, attraction, and persuasion. Oh how lucky are those that have the dimple super powers.

Then there's others that have been blessed with dimples, however not where we'd expect! Some have them in places we'd rather not, like our butt, legs, calf, oh hell just about anywhere else except our face.

I'm one of these lucky ones who has been blessed with an excess of dimples, not on the cheeks of my face, rather on the cheeks of my behind! Up until a few days ago, I would just curse at my self everytime I looked at my dimples in the mirror. I would curse the genetic dice game that gave me such noticible, indents in my hind side. 


I've even tried the many different lotions and creams that pormise smooth looking skin and the disaperance of those dimples.  I'd spend my hard earned money on those expensive miracle creams.  I'd then spend hours massaging that cream in circular motions until my behind looked like a macaque monkey's - bright red! When the bottle was gone, I'd start comparing the indents, checking to see if they're gone.  Each time I must confess the dimple was still there, taunting me with it's craterlike looks.

I remember one day about 8 years or so ago, I went into work in what I thought, was a nice summer outfit, with bottoms that were daisy petal white in color. I'd worn this outfit several times before, enjoying what I thought was a 'classy' outfit. On this particular day, a co-worker 'jokingly' commented to no one in particular, but loud enough for the entire small office to hear.   'If you choose to wear white bottoms to work, you should make sure your hindside is smooth or find a liner to hide the butt dimples.'

I was so mortified! I couldn't believe I've been wearing these pants, and my dimply behind created a crater looking backside for everyone to see. I was so paranoid that I avoided walking for the rest of the day in fear of someone else seeing my cratered behind. When work finally ended, I made sure to be the last one to leave.  As soon as I got home, I ripped off those pants and gave them to goodwill (I may have even stopped by goodwill on the way home, thus driving home in my skives).

I've had this blessing now for my entire life, and I've let it hold me back. I've let, Sheila, my mean spirited taunting, judgemental, critical, gremlin run this part of my body's self esteem and self love. To avoid Sheila's critical comments, I would avoid looking at my 'cheeks' so I wouldn't have to hear her cruel words about how 'fat, ugly, unattractive, unloved, out of shape, or lazy I was.

Oh how Sheila's words have caused me to loathe myself. I've allowed her to make me feel all of these unworthy feelings about myself. I've let her take so much control over my thoughts about my dimples, that I have actually let it get in the way of having a good time. Whether it be a romp in the bedroom, the wearing of short shorts, or a swim with my daughter.  I've allowed Sheila to keep me small and hidden.

Not anymore! Those days are over Sheila! Start packing your bags!

Through the work of Andrea Owen and Amy Smith of The Self Love Revolution (check them out they're GREAT), I am learning to put Sheila back in her box, manage her when she tries to leave, and quit letting her words run my life. The other day, when Andrea and Amy were interviewing Julie Parker, she brought up a tool or idea to help turn around our self body image thoughts. She said our inner thoughts should be from our dog's point of view (or best friend - but it was the dog portion that got my ears perked up)!

Now, here's something for me to mull over - How would my dog, Allie, talk to me about my dimples?

First and foremost, she wouldn't even notice! If she did notice, they'd say something like, "Oh, I love the dimples girl - now lets go play!"

Then she'd continue on in her excited, focused happy Allie voice while dropping her ball at my feet, "Here's my ball, just roll it back to me - that's all you have to do! Oh you're just the BEST human ever, look at you smile at me when I bring the ball back. Oh that makes me happy, see my tail wagging wildly. I love to see you smile and happy.  Here's the ball back, now throw it. Come on... PLEASE....."

My dog, Allie, who is the BEST dog on the planet (just ask either myself or her) is the best 'person' for me to learn how to change the tone of my inner voice. To quit critizing what I can't control, to be kind, patient, loving, and accepting - just like I would of her or a friend. Allie who is always happy, excited, and focusing on more important things like; my smile, or that inner glow that radiates through my eyes, and of course the ball.

Allie playing in the snow after a visit
to the Deaf and Blind School

Yes, my darling dimples. I love you - you are what makes me, me. Now let's pick up that ball, go outside and make Alllie's day!

The 'F' Word at the Hicks House - Where once was a mathematical problem, now sits a bowl of number soup.

Since the birth of Ireland's school days, she has struggled to comprehend math. She has an internal struggle between her true self and the skills needed for math. Her hippie artist heart and mind (which I totally love and don't want to change about her), just struggles with the analytical steps, straight rows, columns, exactness, organization, and neatness required for math.

When she see sits down to work on math problems those numbers start moving and soon jump off the page!  They start playing with each other, dancing around, flying in the air.  Next thing you know, they have decided to play with the dogs!  They've jumped off the table and onto the floor landing on their head, using their nose as a slide, and doing several tucks and a few 180 degree twists along the way.  


You know what that means now?  Yep, Ireland is right down there with those numbers and playing with the dogs.  

What a difficult situation, not only for her - but us too!  We don't want to squelch her little creative mind, but somehow she needs to know how to add, subtract, multiply and divide - oh my!   

When we notice her little mind switching into creative mode, we will say to her in our persistent parental voice, " Ireland, focus".

Her mind races back to reality, snapping so abruptly and quickly that she'll comment in that rude, snotty child voice, "I hate that word!"  (I think sometimes her head spins around a few times as well!)

Focus, such a simple splendid word.  According to Mr. Webster:  Focus is the ability to concentrate attention or effort.  


Hmm, just what we need for her.  

Somehow, someway we'll have to help her learn how to make those numbers line up in straight, neat mathmatical lines instead of jumping around all over the place, and creating a soup of a mess for her to learn with!