Jinxed by Jackie

I got home tonight and after checking in on the one tax deduction that I have left, I made my obligatory stop over to check on Nancy.  She was on the phone face timing Jackie down in St George. Jackie has just had all the carpet in her house replaced because of faulty pipes in her house. I am so envious, I would love new carpet, so Jackie said, "Well you just need a leaky pipe". Well, I came home, talked for about 10 minutes with Scott and walked into my bedroom to hear    drip    drip    drip   I  looked up and there was a bubble in my ceiling.  Sure enough the upstairs sink is leaking........yeah thanks Jackie.

Dunkirk

A few weeks ago we went to see the movie Dunkirk. It was pretty tough to watch for several reasons.

1) I just went with Erik to register for selective service and most of those boys on that beach looked like him

2) Where were the Americans during this horrible time of the war? Oh yeah...we were pretending it wasn't going to affect us and Joe Kennedy was saying Hitler was a good guy

3) I have a ton of English blood in my veins, all those people look like us.

Anyway,  it was a great movie, the whole family enjoyed it.

The Awesome Awful of a Pioneer Heritage

I come from a long line of LDS (Mormon) pioneers, now when I say that, I mean a lot from both sides!! Not only do I have a lot of ancestors that joined the saints in this life, but since I have lots of generations, those that weren't baptized in this life have no doubt been baptized by proxy at least more than once.  So I grew up with lots of family stories about these larger than life people that survived angry mobs, buffalo stampedes, famine, drought, plaque, and grasshoppers. Yes, it's a pretty impressive legacy, after all who wouldn't be impressed by an ancestor that stole the Connecticut charter from King George's governor and hid it in the Charter Oak? Or the ancestor that while settling Manti, lived in a dugout at the bottom of the temple hill - only to awake in the middle of the night to rattlesnakes dropping from the shelf above them? Or even a larger than life Grandpa that helped get Glen Canyon Dam built by testifying to Congress?

It's awesome, and it's awful.

Who can live up to that? What's left for me in my advancing years as I look at my accomplishments? After all what will my descendants say about me? "She did analysis for the EPA's Information Collection Rule" or "She was still getting bucked off horses into her latter years" In the modern era it's pretty difficult to accomplish "great" things...my life is pretty domesticated. Honestly, if the truth is known, I don't know that I have the desire to do great things.  Maybe I'm comfortable in my little corner of the world, with my animals, lab work, and family.

If the whole truth is known, maybe my ancestors would not necessarily want to be viewed as legends either.  They did what they needed to, after all, what choice did they have when faced with their options.  They were just human and they bucked up, went forward, survived and raised their children.  At the end of our lives, I think we just want to know that we made some difference in the lives of the people we love.

Landless...

We went off the land line about 6 weeks ago, it's been a pretty big adjustment. Mostly for the 3 people that still called me at home. Scott on the other hand has been thrilled, he never checked his cell before and he still doesn't. So if you are looking for him, apparently you have to go through me. I have however still not gone through my house and remove all the cordless phones yet. So that ought to confuse anyone that visits!

The 24 year Malaise

It has slowly been increasing, not that I was ever a "dinner every night at 6 sharp" kind of wife. In fact when we lived in Roy, if the door bell rang after dark, Emily would yell, "Dinner's Here!!!", please realize she was only 3.

Well it got a little better for awhile, but the truth of the matter is lately I have absolutely no interest in cooking. So my little family usually mooches off one or the other of the Fuller families, because they both still cook. Now, lately I have been a little (lot) stressed out, so much so that I have actually taken a little time off work. The other morning, while discussing my current craziness, Scott asks me what responsibilities he could take off my shoulders. I said, "Cooking" he said, "I hate cooking". In fact it has gotten to the point that mostly what we eat is bread (in some form of sandwiches, toast, or plain) and we really don't even have food in the house, except a freezer full of pork, cupboards full of spaghetti sauce, and you know other ingredients....

So we still haven't resolved the issue, but today we are sitting here on a Sunday afternoon, watching food poon in the form of Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives. We aren't so much being inspired to cook as we are about going out to dinner, If only is wasn't Sunday.

Parent Failure #138765

As previously mentioned, I love watching Dr. Pol, it reminds me both of my childhood and the decision I made to not become a vet. Anyway, I was in my room watching and episode when Erik came in to talk to me about something. In the middle of talking to me he looks at the TV and sees Dr. Pol fishing around inside a cow looking to get a twin lined up for delivery.

Erik: UGHH...Mom, you know I don't like watching this
Me: What, Dr. Pol, or delivering calves?
Erik: Delivering the calves, I don't EVER want to see something like that in real life.
Me: Really?? What about when you child is born, don't you want to be in there with the wife and see the baby?
Erik: OHHH...thanks for that mental image Mom!! My wife laying there and some guy with his arms up to his elbows in her vagina!


.....ok........

1) Where did you learn the word vagina? And when did it become so comfortable in your vocabulary?

2) Little tip for both you and your wife, if a Dr. is reaching that far up there, that baby isn't ready to come out and you should stop him.

The Epitaph on my tomb stone

I am currently in the process of swearing all my relatives that they will be sure to have "She should have known better" on my headstone. Which leads me to my newest adventure, it started out as any normal crazy day. I had a dentist appointment (nitrous oxide is the very best part of this day), then Erik had drivers ed, but had forgotten some paperwork. So my casual morning of shopping turned into a rush home to get a paper packet and rush it back into the driving school. At that point I realized that the dentist had left the filling a little to high, so a quick stop back to the dentist for a quick grind down.

At this point I realize my day has been an absolute waste, so I decide to head home. On my way home, while passing the radio towers between Whitewater and the turn off, I noticed a person on her hands and knees out in the weeds, down by the fence. No apparent cars around, so I back up and walk on down to where a teenage girl was sobbing. I start talking to her and she was obviously coming off something. She asked if I could help her and if I was a devil, I assured her that I didn't think I was a devil and asked her is she wanted to say a prayer before I took her to the hospital. She said yes, so we knelt together and said a prayer.

SIDE NOTE: This is the turning point when this could be an awesome story...

I get her into my car, and she is all scratched up in her itty bitty shorts and tiny tank top, she kept thanking me, then she started talking about Lucifer, demons, angels, and if this was hell. Then she asked if we had to keep living this life over and over, if that was hell. Then she began to talk about how Satan had been an angel and that God forgives everyone, but not her, she had been to bad. This went on for about 5 minutes, crying, and crying, then she needed a drink, which fortunately I had a fresh bottle of water in the truck, then she needed a bag to hurl in. So I gave her a Taco Bell bag (Note: she never actually hurled, thank goodness).

At this point we had made it to Orchard Mesa, and I was thinking I was going to make it, drop her off at the ER and call it good. All that changed however, after we went through the stop light at 28 1/2 Rd, that is when she went bat guano crazy. She started kicking the dash, the window, me, she threw water bottles at me and grabbed the wheel of my truck, while I was going about 50 mph. Thankfully, she was pretty little so I did manage to pull the truck over into the barrow ditch without flipping it (which I was complimented on by both a sheriff deputy and a couple of witnesses). As soon as the truck stopped, she was out running around on the frontage road. Screaming and carrying on, knowing my cell was just about out of juice I decided to go ahead and call 911, but just then an older couple stop to help me stare at her and keep her from getting run over since she is now laying in the east bound lane of the frontage road.

Of course, the 911 dispatcher wanted all kinds of information that I didn't have. I just wanted her to dispatch someone. She asked me the girls name, age, then asked if she was black...I hadn't mentioned that. So... what did the dispatcher know that I didn't. I asked if someone had been dispatched, and if they were running lights, because you can almost see the OM fire station from where we were. Dispatch informed me that fire/ambulance wouldn't be there until law enforcement because the girl was violent... curious, hadn't really mentioned that either. In the mean time, the old people were busy keeping her from getting run over since she was laying flat on her back with her arms out in the middle of the lane. She kept mumbling about demons, then she looked at me and informed me that I was a viper, that I pretended to be all Christian. But God knows! Then she told me that God loved her, my response, "Yes He does, but I'm not real fond of you right now." Finally the officers got her in handcuffs and asked her if she had had something special today, she said she did but they would have to guess!!!

The first deputy said "Mushrooms", "Nope, try again" she said. The other deputy said "Dabs?" "YUP!" she got all excited again, then promptly attempted to pass out. That's when they escorted her over to the ambulance.

After the deputy came back, he told us what daps were, apparently they are super concentrated THC mixed with some type of substance like candle wax, which gives them basically an overdose of marijuana. The deputy told us that this was the 10th case of daps this week. Plus I was the third person to have kicked this particular young lady out of the car. The last guy she ripped his sunglasses off his head while he was driving and called him a cyborg, in fact that was why the deputy's response took so long, he had been out looking for her on the highway.




Later, he needed my contact info, this made me hesitant, so I told him my name, then when it came to the address I gave him the street and saw the tell-tale tightening of the lips. "yeah, I know, I should have known better". He asked if things had quieted down on our little Mormon family street, I told him it had for awhile after they had gotten Lisa, but recently another cousin had started seriously growing marijuana, and things had gotten a little worse.

In the end, yes I should have just called 911 from the highway...I should have known better.

Missed Me?

OK, yeah, it has been a while so I have finally decided to come clean as to why my blogging has been so erratic. For about the last year I have been progressively having more and more joint and overall muscle pain. I have been to the doctors numerous times in the last 18 months. All kinds of blood tests for everything from West Nile, RA, MS, chronic fatigue, lupus, and fibro myalgia, to more than I can even remember. There were days when getting out of bed required absolutely my entire stubbornness, which anyone that knows me knows how much of that there is, I would get in the shower turn the water as hot as possible and wait until I could move enough to head into work. I was becoming very weak, unable to lift things I have always taken for granted like a bale of hay, or even groceries. I was also having a lot of other symptoms like using the wrong words in conversations, forgetting basic things and finally some pretty serious tummy issues.

Besides the physical issues I was also dealing with some pretty stressful situations at home and work, like having a drug addicted cousin threaten Scott and I with a baseball bat in my front yard, getting Emily settled in her first apartment, my brother-in-law having some serious health issues which Nancy and I rushed over to be with Donna in Ogden. Work finally hired a second analyst who turned out to be a psychopath in my lab for about two months. My sleeping, despite my ambient addiction was approximately 3-4 hours a night. In November I had to go to New Orleans for a water convention and knew I couldn't handle that on my own, so Scott went with me. The day we got home I went and picked up a couple of Shetland ponies that I had bought, and the day after that I had a colonoscopy. The colonoscopy showed lymphocytic colitis which the doctor prescribed some steroids for a couple months to clear up. Blood tests were continuously inconclusive except for one main thing, a serious vitamin D deficiency (no seriously, I am outside all the time).

All of this stress finally caught up with me and I had a pretty serious break down in both my mental and physical health just before Christmas. After seeing my doctor (again) she decided that I needed some serious anti-anxiety drugs, and that the steroid that the gastroenterologist prescribed has caused even more anxiety. So, a couple months on some of these new medications and I'm starting to feel a lot better, and a whole lot more like my old self. Turns out the human body isn't designed to continuously stress and go non-stop. With this new medication, I am still going a lot, probably not as much as I was, but I can sit still long enough to watch a 30 minute sitcom, and I am sleeping about 5-6 hours a night now.

I'm not 100% but I'm working on it, one of the problems of long term vitamin D deficiency is muscle weakness, and so as recommended by my doctor I am now going to a tanning bed about once a week, which is really weird for me. The anti-anxiety drugs are helping with the muscle and joint pain, and I am trying really hard to slow down....I promise, I really am trying.

So on top of all that, I just haven't had the energy or enthusiasm to keep up with the blog, but I have had several things that I wanted to blog about, so for the next few months there may be some random posts from the last year or so.

Thanks for checking back in

Losing some Cow Creds

Two weeks ago, Jason's cow Fat Minda, had the first calf of the season. I was busy cleaning out Peppermint's temporary stall in Harriet's garage. He said she was being really protective, but I sort of disregarded that. After I cleaned out the stall, I headed up to the top of the orchard to check out the new addition. The old cow didn't seem to irritated at first, but I still didn't think I got to close. Then suddenly she was up and at me, she hit me in the chest, so I punched her between the eyes. She turned back and checked on her calf and I figured we were done, so I turned around and started back down along the fence line. That's when I heard her coming up from behind, I turned to face her just in time for her to lower her head and catch me just under the rib cage. She tossed me high enough in the air that I remember thinking, "Wow, this is just like when Daddy used to throw me up in the air when I was little".  When I came back down on the top of her head, she bumped me like a volleyball and I went back on my butt.

I hobbled home, pretty embarrassed and stopped in for a lecture from both my mother and Nancy. Then as soon as I got in the house Allie called on the phone wanting to know why I was walking like a 90 year old. I shrugged it off most of the day, Scott just shook his head. That afternoon Nancy and I went in to get tanned and do a little shopping, then I finally asked her to drop me off at the ER, because the leg was hurting pretty good. Turns out I snapped the top of the fibula at the little notch thing. They ordered and MRI, but it showed that all the tendons and soft tissue was good, but I have a pretty serious bone bruise on the inside of the tibia. Fortunately the tip that has broken off didn't move, so it is just a matter of waiting a couple months for everything to heal on its own. While going over the results the doctor asked me if I remembered how my leg had gone while she was throwing me up and my leg was squeezed between her head and a cattle panel, I told him no, but I was thinking, "How was my leg? Dude I was to busy thinking WEEEEEE!"

I have some lovely drugs, can still wear my high heels and have a pretty bruised cow credential resume. I am sure that there were a host of ancestor cattlemen on the other side of the veil watching, nodding their heads that I definitely deserved what I got.

My Secret Profession

Last fall, I had an unfortunate accident at work. I was a little embarrassed so I wouldn't own up to exactly what happened to anyone at work. Shortly after this happened I went down with Nancy to watch some of the Andrus Brothers play football.  While I was down in St. George the boys kept asking me what had happened. I didn't want to explain to them either, but during a conversation with Milo, I said it had happened at work. "What do you do?" he asked, "Well, I certainly don't work for a super secret government agency that monitors and tests the zombie virus....uhhhhh, I'm a secretary, yeah that's it, a secretary"

Finally, we made a deal, if the wound continued to head toward zombie, they could shoot me, if not, then the vaccine must be working.

November 3, 2014

All snarkiness aside, today I'm grateful for the 80 years my mother as spent on this earth. This year her only wish was to have all her living daughters attend General  Conference. Well I don't know about the people that live outside Zion, but getting 6 tickets to the same conference in the mission field is pretty tough. Our stake came through though, and we were extremely grateful. Here's to a few more years (ok a lot) and may she learn to stay of stools, pick up her feet, and stop dozing quite so much in her chair and, wondering she isn't tired at night.

80 Years
Raising 5 girls
Running a family ranch and farm
Active in the Daughters of the Utah Pioneer
Voted. Favorite Herbergers Customer of the month
Voracious Reader Award
Former stake Primary President
Former Relief Society President
Damn fine businesswoman

Here's to more years! I love you

November 2, 2014

Oh the gratitude continues, today I'm grateful for yeast. Yes, while not great when causing an infection, the rest of the time this amazing gas producing bacteria is responsible for so many delectable edibles (and I've never even had beer). Who doesn't grab a couple dinner rolls? Love the smell of fresh baked bread? Loves deep dish pizza? All brought to you by that ever loving flatulating bactria.

November Gratitude Posts

Oh yeah, its' that time for the  annual event, my November Gratitude posts, perhaps not your normal posts about family and church, but deserving of acknowledgment none the same.

OCTOBER IS OVER!!!!!! I am extremely grateful that the month o' spooky, terror and fear is over. Glad that the month of celebrating the supernatural evils in the world are over, Glad that for no discernable reason the children in our society, which already demand more than their share of time than at any other decade of history, require yet another full month AND CANDY!!!!

My joy on November 1st is remarkable, I just hope fall lasts long enough to still enjoy it.

Damn Throat!

It has been 11 years...ELEVEN YEARS people!!! About six or eight weeks ago, I had a little hay fever going on, no big deal, but there was a lot of coughing involved. Curious, but maybe it was just a little reaction. Sadly the coughing continued past the hay fever, so it was off to my old otolaryngologist Dr. Trowbridge. Fortunately, it had been long enough that he didn't actually remember me (or because I have lost 120# since those old days). But when we started going over my history it all came back to him.

So he did one of my most favorite things... shoved a camera up my nose and then said those famous words "well, you have something I haven't really seen before" (if I had a dollar for every time he has said that I would have like $30). It seems that I had a ribbon of scar tissue straight across the middle of my trachea, just below my vocal cords, kind of like a bow sting. So a surgery date was quickly scheduled and it was today.

A little nervous (OK a lot), so I took the day off and headed in for a 7:45 procedure. I had forgotten just how cold OR rooms can be. Although, I was pleasantly surprised that the new IV drug of choice for after surgery is now dilaudid, rather than that nasty old morphine. Overall things went well, I was about 50% blocked, but the proof is in the recurring scar tissue.

Food Storage & A Barren Pig

If I learned anything growing up it was that dry cows went to the sales yard and barren wives were to be replaced (just kidding, well kind of). I’m not sure if it was Wilbur’s fault, Lola’s, or even mine, but there are no piglets to be found at the old Dederick house. So it is with a little bit of a heavy heart that I have decided to send Lola to the butcher shop. Every thing must fill the measure of its creation, and apparently Lola’s is to fill my freezer and provide a Christmas ham for 2014.. But before we cart her off, I remembered that I have quite a bit of expired food storage down in the scary basement, so… It seems the perfect solution, I’m sure if she knew she would go on a hunger strike.

ATTENTION ALL FAMILY MEMBERS!!!

This announcement is let everyone in my extended family know that due to my lack of interest or enthusiasm, I will no longer be actively involved in the planning, executing or maybe even attending the RE Whiting Reunions. I have previously thrown myself into these reunions to the point that reunions are actually cursed at my house, only to realize that I don’t like most of my cousins and that they in return are not all that fond of me. It’s ok, chance made us cousins but that doesn’t mean we have to like each other. I’m not really sure why I have attempted to kill myself in the last decade or so, with plays, activities, cookbooks or other endeavors. Last year my sisters and mother accepted responsibility for the reunion for 2015, and at first I was ok with planning yet another reunion, until I realized that I just didn’t want to. No one should take offense, to every thing there is a season right? I remember when my Dad decided to stop going to the big EM Whiting Reunion, it is just time. I would however, be amenable to going to work on the DP Whiting Reunion!!

Little Boys...

I was born into a family of girls, to a woman who only had sisters, and each of my sisters and I were allotted exactly one boy each, so my exposure to little boys was pretty limited until I started doing Cub Scouts 100 years ago. Perhaps my sisters and I were only given one each to prepare us for the onslaught of little boys that seem to be perpetuating the next generation, the number of boys in my family seem to be growing exponentially. This week I got an extra dose because Nancy and I went down to St. George to see the Andrus boys, and try to watch a couple of their football games (two of the three games got rained out). Then the day after I got back I had scouts with three rowdy little boys from our ward, anyway, I’m not sure if I should be offended or complimented because the cub scout boys now feel comfortable passing gas in front of me. I don’t know if this is because they have no manners or if they have now accepted me as one of their own.

Modest? Not really...

Maybe I’m getting old, ok… I know I’m getting old…but I have a little complaint about “young women these days”. I know finding dresses in this day and age is difficult. I get it, stores don’t carry a lot of dresses anymore, however that doesn’t mean that your entire Sabbath wardrobe needs to consist of knit skirts and tight scoop neck white t-shirts. Oh yeah, by the way, the layering with a cami totally doesn’t help. I don’t know if this trend is unique to my area, but most of the young women– 35 and younger – seem to believe this is great Sunday couture. Most if not all seem to wear these t-shirts so tight that I can see the back fat under the bottom of the bra strap and if they have an innie or outie.  Plus, I really really really like it when they are pregnant and the t-shirt is stretched so tight I actually get to see the baby move! I just want so badly to go up to one of them and say, “Sweetheart, I know the mirror you looked in this morning showed what I see, so you really don’t have an excuse” or “Wow, is that a different T today or do you only have the one?” Sadly in my ward, the entire YW seem to wear this combo as if it is some sort of under 40 uniform. So just let me throw this out: Tight T shirts are immodest, showing every bulge is gross, you seem to have plenty of time on pintrist – so maybe you could spend a little more time actually looking for a dress, and casual is not OK for church!!! On a side note from a previous post – put on some nylons.

Cancer Sticks

My next door neighbor and friend Kathleen has cancer. My sister Nancy is handling it with typical Nancy flair, she tells Kathleen to her face that she has cancer... so rude! After all, aren't you supposed to whisper it behind her, like she doesn't know?

But I once again digress...

Last night Janna and I were heading into town. She had a pencil, adorned with nasty orange and blue, which during her boring ride with me, she stripped off to plain wood. We then had the following conversation:

Janna - I'm going to pretend this is a cigarette and smoke it.
Me - Where have you ever seen anyone smoking a cigarette?
Janna - In cars, I see people smoking.
Me - Fine, suck on your cancer stick
Janna - What do you mean?
Me - Cigarettes cause cancer
Janna - Do you mean to tell me that Kathleen smokes cigarettes?
Me - Who told you Kathleen has cancer?
Janna - I hear things.

She certainly does, be advised this little girl hears everything said around her.

More than One Way...

Yup there is more than one way to skin a cat, but anyway you do it, the cat isn't going to like it. We are getting ready to return our little miner back to academic hell, and now that she isn't going to be living on campus she is going to require a little bit more in the way of transportation.  Freshmen at mines are required to live on campus, and parking being a premium, they also recommend not to bring a car.  They really are pretty self sufficient there, they seem to have their own little ecosystem.

But this year, Emily will actually be living just across the street, in a good sized two bedroom apartment with Tyler (Tyler is actually a girl, while I'm a free thinker, I'm not that free). Anyway, we as Emily's parents are generously furnishing her with a vehicle for her college experience.  Yes, that's right we are taking the 1996 Dodge Dakota over there.  I know, "I can't believe that you are taking the truck you purchased when Emily was 6 weeks old, over for her to use at college". Yeah, we aren't very good at letting things go... but anyway, the dodge runs pretty good, not for over the continental divide on any regular basis good, but good enough for running around the giant metropolis of Golden good. Honestly, Emily really only needs to get to church, the grocery store and of course, church. 

The main trouble with the old dodge is that the speedometer has been flaky for about 15 of those 19 years we have had it. Numerous trips into the  mechanics have yielded nothing. Intermittently the speedometer just stops working. But Scott discovered an awesome app... it gives your speed right there on the screen.  So Scott downloaded it and tried it out, and when I say tried it out, that means that Scott held his tablet in front of him and ran up and down our street... well, it works, at that speed anyway.

I'll bet your sorry you missed that show!