Photographs from life and from my photography class

I

The Mid-Winter Blahs

It is the middle of February and I feel like crawling into a corner with a good book, Gueradilli Double hot chocolate, and a plate of plain, fresh cake donuts. I am impatient with the cat. She was out of food and so she "Meeee-ow!" at me over and over again. I finally caught on and filled up her bowl. Other times, though, she seems to be bugging me about nothing--she doesn't want to be petted, she doesn't want out, she doesn't want in, she does want to be petted BUT NOT touched. Since she is the most vocal of the pets, she kind of gets the most attention. The rabbits will thump and growl at unpleasant moments in their lives and the lizards are on a happy, but endless trip around and around and around their tank. Sara runs with her belly on the glass and her back against one of the rocks in her enclosure--then she instantly stops--belly flat to the glass and her eyes closed. A few moments later, I can hear her scrabbling around the tank again. I started to clean yesterday. A wild, unbridled furor of sweeping, dusting, vacuuming, throwing away, recycling, repositioning, redistributing and de-cluttering that lasted the whole of one day.

During that time, I got Brent's side of the bedroom clean--spotless actually. Then I had to use the bathroom and went into Nathan's bathroom and immediately closed down. A place that needed immediate and extensive scrubbing and rinsing--overpowered my fragile will to impose order upon my living quarters. My next energy burst will be spent in: algebra homework, organizing the table full of photography stuff that I can't bring myself to actually look at as I walk past, writing and doing the visuals for a "Using Music in the Classroom" demonstration that I will be giving to the Primary Presidents and staff that will be at the Stake Leadership Training meeting this coming Thursday. 20 minutes. I've got 20 hours worth of stuff here--some of it from my own two stints as Primary President (long, long ago)--it's just the winnowing and polishing and Xeroxing that need to be done.

I would also like to get my half of the bedroom cleaned. And maybe the corners of my bathroom and dressing room. Also I would like to be thinner and more athletic and not fall down as often and quit bruising every time the wind rubs against me. augh.

I have loved the cold weather. It is actually a huge relief to have the yard's growth stunted by the extreme freezes we've had in the last month. Apparently the sustained cold killed off all of the iguanas round about these parts. I am sorry for that--one less wildlife form to photograph in black and white.

I have been re-reading (along with two other books and an anthology of American literature) the Twilight series. So much of the prose is stilted and sentimental--but as Bella describes her feelings for Edward, I remember those same words that I have spoken and written to Brent. Both Bella and I bruise at the drop of a hat and fall off and over things on a regular basis. She is a weird combination of self-doubt and bravado and, most compelling of all, has come from the mind of a woman who has somehow experienced prolonged bouts of both mania and depression. It is like reading "An Unquiet Mind" all over again. And like re-reading my own 50 year narrative of letters, journal entries, talks and presentations. She has also, though, been loved by a man who is both Edward and Jacob--and who loved her with the ardor of those two characters combined--even amplified. While Brent is gone most of the time at work or Church callings, I return again and again to Twilight's descriptions of relationships defined by loyalty, friendship, passion and surprise.

Valentine's Day is coming. I have heard the radio ads and seen the stores draped in pink and red hearts. Again, I know that I will never have language sufficient to express to Brent all that he is--that my most prized possession on this earth is the eternal tie that surrounds and supports us. His promises are perfect. His loyalty complete. His vision, thankfully, somewhat rose-coloured when he looks at me. It is nice to know that forever he will love me and think that I am beautiful.

It has taken me 50 years, but I am finally beautiful. I am beginning to become the woman that he saw in me when he asked me to marry him.

Progress. wow.

Inspiration from Facebook

This is the photo I just uploaded on Nat Geo's web site. Cool place. Even cooler picture.

A very wonderful person named Ellen found me through Facebook and regaled me with compliments and a sweet review of our shared past. It was as if we never left for BYU or got married--or that I was pregnant or in Iowa. I just successfully posted one of my photographs on the National Geo web site. I have been taking a photography class--but they make you start with a black and white SLR camera. On the bright side, I have learned to develop my own film here at home. Brent has suggested that we get the materials for me to go from negative to photograph. I don't know that I want to invest in the stuff I'd need. One of the fellows in the class has a father who already has a dark room for printing up photos. Maybe a bunch of us could get together and all put in for the chemicals. Anyway.

Back to Ellen--as she has done, I have also home schooled. I began with Nathan after his break down in 5th grade. Extreme bullying by a classmate and even more egregious idiocy by his teacher and the school administration pushed him over the edge. His efforts to forgive others and defend others and not to get in trouble for disrupting class just quashed his spirit and his heart. It took him years to heal. He will always bear the scars of that cruelty.

He is taking classes at the local college--preparing to graduate in Engineering. Now he's in chemistry classes that will help him decide what field of Engineering he'll pursue. He has Asperger's and panic attacks and . . . and so he won't be able to go on a full time mission. The Bishop and Stake President are working with the Stake Genealogy program to see if he can serve on a full-time-part-time basis; called to be a full-time missionary for at least 6 months.

I am quietly pleased with the parallel lines that both Ellen and my lives have taken. I cannot help but see our children who are bright and kind and observant and careful of those around them. The music that is an integral part of our children's lives came from our own hearts. In fact, I will be using the "Dear Friends, Dear Friends" song, that Ellen taught me, in a workshop for the Stake Primary Stake Training meeting next month. We're talking about using music in the classroom. Neither the President or the First Counselor have much affinity for music, which is not to say that they do not both sing with much energy! They are dear women with family challenges beyond my keen. I love them and love to be involved with them in providing a resource for the Primary leadership in the Wards and Branches in our Stake. I still use at least 2 toothbrushes. I have also begun to string them throughout the house and leave them in all of the cars. If I am running late, I just put a bit of toothpaste on a toothbrush (a new one if I can't find one of my existing ones) and rush out to the car with keys and bag in one hand, books and notes in the other, and toothbrush firmly held between my jaws. I know that it looks ludicrous--but there have been times when I sucked my thumb as I drove through town doing my errands (bad mental/emotional days)--so a toothbrush doesn't turn either Nathan or Brent's heads. I did feel kind of silly a few months ago when I found myself picking out bread in the bakery--while unconsciously, yet energetically, chewing on the head of a toothbrush. Just as wearing pink bunny slippers beyond the driveway is a vividly ridiculous act; chewing on a toothbrush in the bakery department of the grocery store is a thoughtlessly gross thing to be doing around people who are buying rolls and French bread and bagels--all comestibles out in the open exactly where I have been walking about and fiercely masticating a toothbrush between my teeth. That was an extremely long sentence--which means that I am up past my composition bedtime. I love you. People who are meeting me for the first time ask what I do--I answer that the last time I was paid for my time, I taught College composition and literature classes. Since then, I have jumped horses, roofed houses, watched three children grow from infants into incredibly useful adults, had my right shoulder repaired three times and my lower left thumb joint replaced twice. I propagate plants and swim and play with my three dwarf rabbits . . . and try to look good for Brent when he comes home in the evenings. Right now I am also taking an advanced Algebra class and a photography class. What I need to tell them is that I am someone who loves you.

That would say it all.

Love always, Carolyn

This is Fred. I write about him at the very last of my entry for today. He is big and noisy and Brent is helping him to learn some manners.
When everyone was here for Christmas, I got us all together and snapped a photo. I am really wishing now that I had gotten a professional to come in. This one gets all of our faces, but it looks really, really dumb. Especially me.
This photo, on the other hand, is a wonderful, wonderful memory of Brent and me a year ago when we went to visit Megan and Anton when Jon was born. I had forgotten that I even had it. I like it so much that I am going to print it off--along with the photo below--and send it to Brent for his office. I know that he doesn't like the one that he has there now--it is tucked away in a funny corner wall of his office. I will make this one HUGE so that everyone can see how handsome he is and how perfect we are together.
Earlier tonight, about 5 pm, I spoke with Brent while he was still at work. Then I took the bunnies with me on the porch and moved all of the plants out of the huddle that had protected them from the freezing temperatures we had last week. It was like I was stretching my own legs out and reaching my face up to the sky to feel the sun. I transplanted some new babies and gave just about everyone some new soil. I'll fertilize more later, when the plants have had a chance to settle down. A few days ago, I visited Lowe's garden section (after two nights of below freezing temperatures) and found these dainty, perfectly proportioned miniature roses. There were also some bougainvillea with blossoms that were a water colour mix of orchid pink and nectarine orange. Nice plants, yes. BUT the most amazing part of the whole experience was that when I saw them, I realized that THEY had SURVIVED the FREEZE OUT DOORS AT LOWE'S!!!

So, I now have some bougainvillea (isn't that a wonderful word to spell???) in odd places about my yard and some tea roses in clusters of pots around the lanai.

Tonight I was filling some pots and with soil from the bottom pan of the small "hot house" that Brent fashioned for me--and with each handful of dirt, I kept scooping up these fat, lethargic earthworms. The soil had been dry, but deep enough to keep them from freezing or dehydrating. I picked them up and held each one in my hand--and each one began to move around! It was like a miracle. I know that it wasn't, but it felt that way. And I know that they are only earthworms--but they are earthworms that squirm among the roots of my newest plants and help them to grow--so they are MY earthworms. After placing each worm in a pot of soil, I gave each some water and watched them burrow down below the surface.

After spending New Year's with my own children and my grandson, I've been feeling very old and kind of dried up. The cold has kept me in and I didn't cover one of my favorite plants in the front yard well enough--so it is now limp and, well, dead. The rabbits run around and frisk me for treats and come for pats when they are feeling mellow. I feed the cat and let her in when she scratches at the glass doors on the porch. My son has me do Chemistry and History and Math with him. My husband lets me get him something to eat when he comes home at 9:30 at night after 14 hours of a day trying to help to fix a HUGE, but ACCIDENTAL, mistake someone else made. I do a lot of motions that have to do with a lot of people around me, but, mostly, I am not all that essential to the lives of those who live around me.

I did save some earthworms today, though, and that makes me like myself a bit better than I would have otherwise.

Felicia is in town showing her stallion at the horse shows going on over the next few weeks in Wellington--about a 30 minute drive from my house. She still cares for my own Agraciada who lives with her in Texas. I hope that we can spend some time together while she is here. It will give me another chance to connect with a person and with memories that are important to me.

Megan and I made cards while she was here--she sends lots of them out to lots of people who need her care and support where she lives in Maryland. I made a lot of them, too, but I don't really have people who need me like she is needed. Both Meg and Lauren are amazing people. I hear about and watch them go about their business and remember that I used to be that busy and ernest and focused and dedicated. Now, I think that I am mostly tired.

That is allowed me, though. Brent took me to the walk-in clinic here and they put me on antibiotics and some steroid breathing therapy. After a week of coughing and grouching and feeling itchy and hollow inside, I find out that I have the equivalent of walking pneumonia. So. We have a three day weekend and I have lots of time to sleep and muffle about the house while Brent works on our newest baby: Fred.

The Grand Cherokee is dying: the bearings are going out, so Brent bought a huge "mudder" Jeep. His heart is 1976 and most of his body is 1990. He is a golden pumpkin bronze and has 33 inch tires.

So Brent works on civilizing Fred so that I can drive him while I sleep and cough and snort and wheeze--and admire Brent's work and order the parts that Brent needs on-line.

It is late now. Brent is asleep, breathing quietly, while I finish this. Happy New Year. It's OK to be tired and old every now and again . . . especially when Brent is fixing up a new Jeep for us to drive when I feel better and have energy and am young again.

!!!!!

Two of the Memories That I Hold Dear

This is a jumper that my sister Susan made for me when our family was living in Tampa, FL. I know that it took her lots of time and love to produce such a unique piece--it became one of my favorite things to wear.
Brent caught this picture of me on a sweet gelding named Curly. He was probably between 16 and 19 years old and he was the first horse that I ever leased. On him I did fly--he was so careful of me that I did not fall. On him, riding was fun--I was lucky to have such a good teacher at the beginning of my riding career. I think I was 31 or 32.

Post Christmas WOW!

I was in the middle of absolutely nothing about a week ago and I was thinking about how marvelous something was and that I needed to write about it. It had something to do with my body or Christmas or my new computer . . . I think. Anyway.

We had both sets of missionaries come for dinner yesterday (Sunday) afternoon. This means:

1. I cooked a fabulous, diverse dinner menu

2. The rabbits pretty much got ignored

3. The house is still spotless--because Brent will not have a dirty house when company is coming.

This cleaning thing is one of the most obvious differences between him and me. I was looking through a pile of photos taken earlier this year. In two of them, my Visiting Teacher is vacuuming my living room. Now this is a young mother with five young children, a very big home and yard, and a husband who has a demanding job and a Church calling that keeps him away from home way too many evenings every week. Jen Shultz, though, came and we folded laundry together. Then, we walked through the house just talking. She spotted my vacuum sitting in a corner of the room and asked me if I would mind if she vacuumed my house. Thoroughly non-plussed by a request that would have completely embarrassed my sweet husband, I happily agreed to her offer.

Brent is the person who cleans our hotel room before they come to make the beds and change the towels--so that housekeeping won't think that we are messy. I am a person who figures that these talented women (for they usually are women) have magically been provided to take care of me--and I am more than happy to leave the room the way it is so that they are free to do what they will. When I see a hotel cleaning person in the hallway, I try to waylay them for a moment so that I can thank them for taking care of me and my family. Brent would rather die than be in the hotel room when a hotel worker brings us extra towels. (OK--that is a way big exaggeration--but you understand my point?)

More about Jennifer. She ran marathons, ran her children back and forth to activities and school, played the piano for Primary and taught her children to play a three-person-six-hands-triplet (?) for an informal piano recital with friends. She has had 5 children--her oldest is now about 10 years old. I admire Jen very much and am so very blessed that she counts me among her friends.

I have vague memories of such energy and spirit in my earlier existence--half a life ago. I am slow--way slower--now. Falling off of horses too many times, dancing ballet and doing gymnastics (a whole lifetime ago), increasing deafness in my hearing, manic depression, arthritis, narcolepsy, sleep depravation, a flood, a hurricane, tornados, two operations to replace my lower left thumb joint and three major attempts to re-build my right shoulder, three pregnancies and the anguish of giving birth, my mother's death, weeks when I could not sleep and months when I slept for 22 hours a day--and months when I couldn't leave my bedroom--have worn my body and my desire to learn patience very much out. Unlike some people who say that their high school years or their missions were the best times of their lives, I consciously try to tuck the things that happened before yesterday most snuggly into their far corners of my mind.

Of course, there are other events in my life that I often pull forward to replay again and again: the moment that I said "Yes." to the question of whether I would marry Brent, flying over fences and fields on horseback, flying through the steps of a ballet exercise and jumping into the air--so close to flying, laying on the hot sand of a beach and hearing the waves softly "fuesh . . . fuesh" nearby, reading wonderful books, giving talks and speeches and teaching, singing in front of others, playing the piano, playing my flute with mom a long time ago, singing to myself as I pull up weeds, dancing to the radio when no one was around to see me, having Brent curl me up on his lap and hearing his sweet tenor voice in my ear. learning how to tease bits of plants into growing into very tall and beautiful versions of their parents, the instant before I fall into sleep with Brent's even breathing as a lullaby. Even some of the painful parts I return to--the thumb, the shoulder--have elements that I return to. I treasure the moment when I realized that I would be completely able to use my left hand again--and the sweet self-revelation that I could lift my arm to lead the music or climb to the tops of trees without pain or weakness. My children are all an essential, joyful part of each of my days--though they brought searing pain with their arrival, they have returned excitement and wonder far beyond their purchase price.

My word. I am sounding maudlin tonight.

This January I will be taking a math class and an elementary photography class--black and white film and learning to process the pictures we capture. I discovered today that the junior college also teaches flying lessons and offers preparation classes for certification in both small planes and helicopters. I have also looked into the county's Master Gardener certification program. And I have a new computer and a new camera and time to visit my sisters, brothers, my father and Cindy. Tonight we bought a Jeep Wrangler--tricked out for mudding--which means that it is pretty much useless for street transportation. I am glad that Brent knows the process for getting it into the shape and that he will let me help where I can. It will be a new, intoxicating adventure.

And I am learning how to weld!!!!!

Every day there are the common, routine things. There is still laundry and dishes--though Nate pitches in and pretty much takes care of the kitchen. I am still full time tutor for him--but I like that part of our relationship. We are becoming better and better friends. He is trying to teach me how to play Mario Brothers on our Wii. Tonight he ended up carrying me a good chunk of the time so that I didn't keep dying. He tells me which moves I should make when we make chess so that I can beat him--and he just came in to ask if I wanted dinner--he will call me when it is done.

It bothers me that I don't have the same athletic body I did twenty years ago and I hate that I have to keep constantly aware to guard against the manic or the depression that a med failure allows. BUT I love that I am a size 6 and that I have a pool table and a very old baby grand piano in my living room instead of a couch and two end tables with lamps. I especially love that Brent thinks that I am beautiful and talented and wonderful and that I could never do anything that would push him away from me. I love that I have my own "nesting area" where it is OK for me to keep things in a relative chaos and where I am comfortable and can be creative. I love that I have a pool and a huge yard and three bunnies that I can push around in a pet stroller when I go for a walk with Brent in the evening.

I'm still not all that excited about being short. The absent minded thing can be a real inconvenience, too.

I am excited about Meg and La coming in a week and about Brent sitting with me on the couch later on while we watch The Big Bang or a Netflix movie. I love that I can dress up or wear my grubby garden clothes--and that Brent thinks that I am incredible no matter how I look.

New year's resolutions? Definitely not to petition, or to practice, patience. I know I would like to find more time to spend with Brent--just being with him--and more time with the Lord--just listening to Him. Two good ones to start with.

This is one of the presents that Lauren made for Brent and me to give to the people that he works with every day. The majority are sweater monsters and hand-bound books with incredible cover creations. I like this shadow box. It reminds me of when we had a horse while living in Tampa, FL. Meg and La would ride bareback and once in a while one of them would start to slide a little bit sideways and then a little bit more and then a little bit more and then BPOOMP! land on the ground. Both were so casual about it--they just got back up and went on their way. Now Lauren and Megan and Nathan are all grown up. When people ask me what I'm doing now . . . I can tell them about classes I'm taking at the local junior college and about the plants I'm working with in my yard . . . and about my three dwarf rabbits. It doesn't feel like I have all that much to do anymore. My sister Martha talked with me on the phone this morning and she described all the things that her four boys were involved with and where they were all going this summer. I am still stuck in a vision of me holding an infant Nathan in my arms and crossing the street with Megan holding onto my jeans pocket one one side and Lauren holding onto my jeans pocket on my other side.

I can remember twenty five years ago like it was yesterday, but I have a hard time remembering if I have an appointment tomorrow. I went to see a doctor who worked with Alzheimer's patients--I was driving myself crazy with all of the doctor appointments and Church activities and school deadlines I was forgetting. He had his assistant do a battery of tests with me. He came in and asked me why I was there. He admitted to me that on one of the tests I had gotten 100% correct--something that had never happened before. I did not have Alzheimer's or any other form of dementia--I was just busy thinking about lots of stuff--stuff that didn't have to do with day-to-day commitments. So . . . I'm not going crazy. I'm just not paying attention to the world around me. Perhaps I'm just on a parallel plane with the world that everyone else around me inhabits and I just happen to be very visible in both places . . . Christmas is coming and I get to have all of my children with me for New Year's. I shall try very hard to be tuned into this world by the time that they arrive.