New Year’s in Zion

February 19, 2018 By

We have lived in Utah over a year and have not explored Southern Utah at all. We spent last New Year’s Eve in our beloved Colorado so this year, I was NOT going to be stuck here without plans (we would later get invited to two parties) but I’m glad spent our long weekend with good friends, Dave and Rebecca, in St. George who make us look like homebodies. They adventure almost daily, just returned from a trip to Kenya, are going to Hawaii next month and then to Australia and Fiji later this year. You’d think with those itineraries they would be extremely wealthy and while they do well, they’re also minimalists and have very few material possessions. It’s all about priorities, folks.

Snow Canyon State Park

When we arrived, we hiked the Hidden Pinyon Trail in Snow Canyon State Park, a wonderland of ancient lava flows and red Navajo sandstone.  This 7,400-acre scenic park’s majestic views of lava-capped ridges was our perfect introduction to the desert.

Zion National Park

When I was a Utah-based travel writer many years ago, some of my favorite adventures were in Zion National Park. Angel’s Landing. Observation Point. Backpacking the West Rim Trail. Truly, it’s like no place on earth and I was saddened to see just how overrun it has become. In the peak season, shuttle buses run to help with the congestion and lack of parking but on this busy holiday weekend in the off-season, there were no such options. Dave is the ultimate trip planner and insisted we had to wake up at 5 a.m. to get a parking spot. We whined and complained but he was correct–by 6:45 a.m, all the parking was full. It was a COLD morning so we stayed snuggled up in their van until the sun warmed the red rock cliffs. Sadly, Jamie had a rheumatism attack all night long so stayed behind to sleep.

Angel’s Landing is the most iconic hike in the park (besides the Narrows) and my kids were both dying to do it…but Dave’s youngest daughter was wary of scrambling on the vertigo-inducing precipitous cliffs with only a chain to hold onto. We instead opted to hike to Scouts Landing, which took us to the base of the Angel’s Landing and though I’m sad we couldn’t knock this one off the kids’ bucket list, we were just happy to be there. And I was particularly happy my knees withstood Walter’s Wiggles’ steep switchbacks and the descent.

 

Walter’s Wiggles

Coral Pink Sand Dunes State Park

Following our hike, we took a lovely southeast detour to Coral Pink Sand Dunes State Park’s shifting sea of soft red sand.  Formed from the same iron oxides and minerals that give us spectacular red rock country, the tired kids came to life–racing, jumping and rolling down the rippling arcs of rust-colored sand.

New Year’s Eve

The LDS Church is true all the time but especially true in St. George. Because it was New Year’s Eve, we only had one hour of meetings as opposed to three + a speaker didn’t show up so we got out early. We took our family to tour Brigham Young’s Winter Home, followed by a hike. We were looking for something low-key because it was the Sabbath and stumbled upon the coolest area in St. George, the Red Cliffs Desert Preserve with slot canyons, an arch and the coolest sandstone formations that felt like we’d be dumped off on Mars.

New Year’s Eve was just as memorable. We had full-contact fondue and Rebecca had pulled together some fun Minute to Win It Games. I had gained the reputation with their daughters as “the fun one” so they fought to have me on their team, which they later regretted.

You win some, you lose some. Or in my case, you lose them all.

We watched The Rookie. Jamie and I went to bed shortly after midnight while the kids all stayed up until the movie was over. Sweet Bode would later tipdly knock on our closed door for family prayers, only to have sleepy Jamie growl “kill him.”

Because every New Year should begin with a death threat. Here’s a “killer” 2018.

Filed Under: Family travel, hiking, Humor, travel, Utah

Relationship Dynamics

February 15, 2018 By

Fifteen years ago, the Pumpkin Man and I were married in the Denver LDS Temple for time and eternity.

Every marriage has ups and downs but the challenges we’ve have been faced with the last couple of years have been staggering. The last month has been particularly difficult but I’m so grateful to have such a steady, loving, strong and funny man by my side. Despite his own suffering and pains, he has risen to uplift and support the rest of us and I’m forever grateful.

I found this gem from the archives and it still rings true today

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This may come as a surprise to you but I can be high-strung.

Or maybe this is not so shocking to those who know me.

I married a great man who is easy going. I have known from the get-go part of what makes our relationship work so well is how we balance each other out.

* I blog.

* I love eating pumpkin.

* He grows giant pumpkins.

* He blogs about his pumpkins.

See? Match made in heaven.

But it wasn’t until our recent ski trip to Keystone that I had an epiphany about it all. We had arrived at the resort and were unloading the car to check-in. As usual, I was stressed about something. Because that is what I do. And as usual, he tried to calm me down.

I have just accepted that this is the dynamic of our marriage. Sometimes I am appreciative. Other times, it annoys me. What if I don’t want to calm down? What if I am completely validated in freaking out over this?

But last week, I was struck withgratitude that he always talks me off the ledge. And I wondered what my life would be like if I married someone who was not a calming influence in my life. Someone who fueled the fire instead of harmoniously extinguishing the flames.

It would not be pretty.

I have been in relationships like that. I once dated a guy who was exactly like me. I know–it is alarming that this is possible. His strengths were my strengths, his weaknesses were the same. We were both journalists, loved the outdoors and were passionate souls ready to conquer the world. In the beginning, we were on such a high–we were the perfect match. I was so thrilled: I was dating myself!

But then we hit the wall. We didn’t compliment each other in the least. We didn’t learn from one another nor grow together. And then I woke up with dread one morning: I was dating myself. Worst. Thing. Ever.

How grateful I am to have married a man who appreciates my strengths and buoys me up from my weaknesses. Happy 15th anniversary, my love!!!

Filed Under: Humor, Jamie, Marriage

The bobsled and my ride of death

February 13, 2018 By

As you’re watching the track events at the Olympics, here’s a bit of perspective for you. Eight years ago, I rode the bobsled in what I later called “the position of death” and it was craaaazy. Not because of the speed but due to a little thing call G-force. For this reason, most of the athletes’ training is spent off the track–they usually only spend two days per week on training runs. Enjoy my stroll down memory lane.

 

I’ve done some crazy things in my life.

I won’t expound upon them because my mother sometimes reads my blog.

Riding in the 4-man bobsled at Utah Olympic Park was the craziest thing I have ever done.

We all know bobsledders go fast—upwards of 90 mph. I was equipped to deal with speed. What I was not prepared for were the excruciating 5 Gs of force weighing down upon me.

To put this into perspective: astronauts only feel 3 Gs during maximum launch and reentry in the Space Shuttle.

It was the first time even my Afro could not defy the forces of gravity.

Some background: I was in Park City that weekend. I was a part of Park City Mountain Resort’s cutting-edge social media site Snowmamas and my fellow Snowmamas and I congregated for a glorious weekend of skiing, tubing, eating and brainstorming.

Fellow family travel writers The Vacation Gals (Kara, Jennifer and Beth) were also in town. On Saturday afternoon, we toured Utah Olympic Park, which consists of the interactive Alf Engen Ski Museum, the inspiring 2002 Eccles Olympic Winter Games Museum, and a fascinating bus tour of the aerials, ski jump and the combined track venues.

I have done all this before. What motivated me to act as a fourth-wheel was the opportunity to do the bobsled at no charge (a $200 cost).

I figured it would be a roller-coaster on steroids. I did not anticipate it would be like gold medalist Steve Holcomb described as a “minute-long car accident” on one of the fastest tracks in the world.

Jen, Kara and I were assigned to Sled No. 9 and underwent a 30-minute orientation. The room was predominantly filled with chest-thumping, testosterone-oozing men.

And then there was us. But how serendipitous was it that my helmet and sled totally matched my outfit?


In a 4-man bobsled, there is a pilot (driver), positions 2 and 3, and the brakeman in the back. Our instructor Jon described that fourth position as the most aggressive and the one that bears the brunt of the force. For the public ride, the pilot would serve as both driver and brakeman.

You know. Because the person in Position 4 is consumed with a minor thing like not dying.


And who would be insane enough to volunteer for said Position of Death (POD)? Me, of course. Kara and Jennifer gushed gratitude and vowed they would owe me for life. After what I endured on the Comet bobsled, a proper display of indebtedness would be naming their next child after me. Or, in the very least, their favorite goldfish.

The sled follows 15 curves at speeds only 10 seconds less than the professionals. We were the final competitors. In the public rides, no one does a running start so Jen leisurely entered through the back of the sled, followed by Kara and then me in the POD.

After straddling the person in front of you, the strategy is to shrug your shoulders the entire ride to prevent your head from bobbling around. We used the handles to hold ourselves upright and hang on for dear life.

We were gently pushed off the starting line and that was the final placid moment of our ride. I’m still at a loss for how to describe the sensation of having 5 Gs of force crushing down upon you. It was painful. It was fascinating. It was thrilling. But mostly it was just excruciating.

When I watched bobsledders on TV, I always assumed their head bobbing was due to the velocity but it is more attributed to defying the forces exerted by gravity.

Upon finally coming to a stop, my first thought was, “That was the most unbelievable experience of my life,” which was followed by “WHY THE CRAP DO BOBSLEDDERS SUBMIT THEMSELVES TO THAT INSANITY DAY IN AND DAY OUT?”

And then all thoughts were overcome by severe throbbing. Dazed, we posed with our cutie pie pilot Jake.


See my smile? I did not mean it.

When I woke up the next morning, I had a severe case of whiplash and could not move my neck and shoulders. The blood vessel in my right eye had burst and I looked like I got my butt kicked by the neighborhood bully.

Which, in reality, I kind of did.

His name is Bob.

Filed Under: Humor, Olympics, Utah

It’s the most wonderful time of (every four) years

February 10, 2018 By

There’s nothing quite like the Winter Olympics! My Facebook feed has been flooded with wonderful memories just prior to my departure to Vancouver. This is what I was doing eight years ago today:

On the eve of my departure to the Olympics, Kaylene brought me just what Vancouver needs: SNOW!

Image may contain: one or more people

The Winter Games conjure up such a deluge of emotions because I’ve lived in two Olympic cities (Calgary and Salt Lake) but nothing tops the privilege I had to be Microsoft’s accredited blogger at the 2010 Vancouver Games.

My many amazing memories include hanging out with speed skating legend Bonnie Blair as Apollo Ohno tied her record for most medals awarded to an athlete at the Winter Olympics. There were celebrity encounters at the USA House including gymnast Shawn Johnson and Wayne Gretzky, a glimpse behind the Opening Ceremonies curtain, tearing across the Olympic zipline at Robson Square, hanging with Al Roker at the Today Show and watching Bode’s namesake, Bode Miller, win bronze in Whistler.

 

But my most treasures memories were of traveling with Microsoft’s film and marketing crew and creating something special.

(Roger, Krista, Bonnie, Anthony, Rich and ) Missing, my handler, Robin.

If you need me, I’ll be glued to the TV the next couple of weeks because there’s nothing quite like the triumphs and heartbreak that showcase the resiliency of the human spirit in the Olympic Games.

To follow my fun journey at the Vancouver Games, be sure to go here: http://www.lifeelevatedmom.com/category/olympics/.

Filed Under: Olympics

The one-legged gingerbread man

February 8, 2018 By

Things have been a bit serious on this blog lately so lest you’re worried we’ve become saints, I assure you we’re still as cantankerous as ever.

Following our friend Porter’s ski accident, I was at a loss as to what we could do to help while the ambulance whisked him away to the hospital. He was originally going to stay in Park City so I offered to bring them their shoes (they were obviously still wearing ski boots). But then they opted for Children’s Hospital in Salt Lake City in case his leg was broken. I offered to watch their younger children but Julie’s in-laws took care of them. She left her van in the resort’s parking lot and I volunteered to bring Jamie back and drive it home but she told us to hold off. I called guest services to tell them not to tow the car if she needed to stay there overnight but I still felt at a loss.

What could we do to help this poor family? Food. Food is always the answer.

So, I came up with a plan to make Porter some cookies but not just any cookies but one-legged gingerbread men because what more could a kid want when he busts his leg, right? We did a terrible job decorating them and Hadley made a memorable card to commemorate when Porter ran into the SLOW sign:

When you have lice at Christmas, the Johnsons come caroling at your house wearing hairnets.

When you’re skiing and hurt your leg, the Johnsons bring you one-legged gingerbread men because we’re those kind of people.

Filed Under: Humor, skiing

And the hits (literally) just keep on coming

February 7, 2018 By

At one point do you determine that maybe your life isn’t just about Murphy’s Law but you are, in actuality, cursed? The day before I started my new job, I took the kids for one last fun-filled ski day on Martin Luther King Jr. Day. It has been a dismal winter and we’ve had minimal snow but the resort has done an excellent job snowmaking and using what they have. The conditions were great!

We try not to eat lunch on the mountain because it’s $15 for a slice of pizza (I’m not exaggerating) but we were all hungry and planned to split chicken fingers and fries. As we were heading down to Mid-mountain Lodge, we saw a group take what looked like a fun trail through the trees. “Where does this lead?” I asked. They weren’t sure and Bode was hungry for some tree bashing because most of his Adventure Alleys were still closed.  Hadley didn’t want to follow them because we would have had to hike back up to the lodge in our skis but Bode begged to ski down a bit just to see where it led. I gave Hadley permission to head to the lodge and we met her a couple of minutes later. As I pulled up to the ski rack, I saw a skier on the ground surrounded by people. Then I saw pink goggles–Hadley’s pink goggles. Alarmed, I took off my skis and raced over to find her flat on her back, obviously injured. The lodge is at the intersection of a few runs and she was almost to the ski racks when she was pummeled from behind by an out-of-control snowboarder.

Ski Patrol was quickly on the scene and I was relieved she had movement in her legs and toes. There were tears in her eyes but she didn’t cry and she later told me those tears were only because “I realized just how sad my life is.” Poor kid.

They carefully loaded her onto a backboard and then placed her on the sled.  A female ski patroller took her down the mountain, hooking up with the snowmobile a couple of times. Bode and I followed her and actually beat them down to the Ski Patrol hut, which looked like a warzone with injured skiers and snowboarders scattered throughout the waiting area.

The doctor saw her fairly quickly and ascertained he didn’t think anything was broken but because it was a back injury and she couldn’t sit up, she needed to go to the hospital for X-rays. What would have taken a looong time in our big-city hospital took only a couple of hours in Park City.  Jamie, his dad and sister all have bad backs so we were relieved to learn that nothing was broken. She stayed home from school today because she’s really sore and we’re praying for no long-term problems.

A few memorable/funny moments:

The girl has always struggled in math and I’m convinced she has dyscalculia (think: math dyslexia). Our old house in Colorado had an actual street address so she could remember that but here in Utah, it’s all just numbers i.e. 258 South 794 West. When the ski patrol was questioning her to see if she had a concussion, two of his questions were “what is your address?” and “what is the date?” We had a good chuckle when I replied, “She doesn’t remember her address or day of the week on a good day.” 

When the ski patrol strapped her into the sled, they bundled her up tight and I joked with her not to put her arm up. When she was a baby and I tried to swaddle her (which she hated), her rebellion was to stick her little arm out.

While we were in the waiting area at the Ski Patrol Hut, a snowboarder was there with her friends and had a huge gash in her knee. Ski Patrol had ripped her pant leg open and at one point, she started freaking out, “Oh no, look how much blood there is!” because her ski pants were lined in red. But then a few seconds later, she realized her ski pants were actually had a red liner and it wasn’t all blood.

I have had two accidents on the slopes, both by out-of-control snowboarders. My most recent was on my first ski day of the season with Bode last year and it was BAD…I couldn’t get up for several minutes and a sweet angel woman who saw the collision held me the entire time until we made sure I was OK. I was sore for week but thankfully I don’t have any long-term repercussions but I do suffer from mild PTSD. Whenever I hear the sound of a snowboard coming up behind me, I tense up and slow down.

Hadley initially wanted me to ride in the ambulance with her and I definitely would have if she had been seriously injured or was freaking out but she was calm and the hospital was only a few minutes away so Bode and I followed her in the car. The paramedics/firefighters were all handsome men, as were the male nurses who attended to her when she arrived. And this did not go unnoticed to her.

Jamie met us at the hospital while Hadley was having her X-rays and he told me, “This morning, I just paid off all the medical expenses from her broken arm last summer.” And now we’re several more thousand dollars in the hole thanks to our crappy insurance (the joys of self-employment) for an accident that wasn’t even our fault. My friend Mike commented on my Facebook page I was surely missing socialized medicine and I couldn’t agree more.

As weird as it sounds, the Park City Hospital is renowned for its cafeteria food and we were excited to find affordable locally grown and organic foods like healthy soups, salads, and sandwiches and entrees.

Hadley’s leaders from church brought her a milkshake and paid her a visit that night. Her sweet friend McKenna came over to hang out. She has had some health (kidney) problems of her own so they were joking about their matching hospital bands.

We were laughing remembering Hadley’s first time in the ER when Jamie was having heart problems. She was really young and kept waving and saying “hi” to everyone, appalled that no one waved back or responded. Because, you know, they were in the ER and it isn’t exactly a happy place.

How I know she’ll probably be OK: During all the chaos following the accident, she hopefully asked me, “Does this mean I don’t have to go to school tomorrow?”

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So, what’s next for our family? Never leave the house? Bubblewrap? Only time will tell.

Filed Under: Hadley, skiing

Delmont King Smith

January 26, 2018 By

Jamie’s 90-year-old Grandpa Smith passed away on New Year’s Eve and the following week, we had such a special weekend commemorating his life. Jamie and my kids were never able to meet my grandparents–my hardworking Tom and Anne Borowski with their crazy-thick Ukrainian accents (my dad didn’t even learn to speak English until he went to kindergarten). They were hardworking, poor farmers and when I came to know them, they had moved from their farm in Fork River, Manitoba to Dauphin…and had the most beautiful garden I’d ever seen.

My mom’s parents, Wallace and Virginia Wilde, lived only a couple of hours away in Raymond, Alberta and many weekends and holidays were spent with them. They were farmers but the polar opposites of my dad’s parents and very wealthy (my grandpa always had to have the latest model boat or fancy motorhome, which we often vacationed in). My grandma was an amazing cook, sweet, spiritual, and kind but a quiet force; my grandpa was the life of the party, worked hard, loved reading Western novels and could fall asleep in his recliner in 2 seconds flat.

I feel honored to have gotten to know Jamie’s wonderful grandpa even a little bit. The first time we brought our kids to him, he showed Bode his iPad (the kid was hooked) and Bode, in turn, introduced him to the marvelous world that is Angry Birds. Even up until Grandpa’s death, he sent each of his grandkids $5 and a card for their birthdays. He was a brilliant man–he had his PhD in Chemistry and was a global expert in the non-woven products industry. But his true legacy was his 8 children (3 of whom he took in following his brother’s untimely death and later adopted 1 other), 35 grandchildren and 83 great grandchildren.

Last summer at Grandpa’s 90th birthday

His legacy was confirmed at his funeral as each of his children spoke about some of their favorite memories. Jamie’s mom, Linda, shared a story of when they were living in New Jersey and a swarm of bees attacked them on a hill in their backyard. Without hesitating, her dad threw off his coat, wrapped it around a neighbor boy who was paralyzed in terror and raced him away. “That was my dad,” she said. “He made us feel safe and protected.” Another daughter shared how he always walked on the curbside of his dear wife to protect her from traffic and slept closest to the door to protect her from intruders.

Aunt Connie shared some sacred moments of his final days on earth when the veil was very thin between this life and the next. There were spirits in the room that he talked to and at one point, he authoritatively instructed, “Make it five feet taller!” likely referring to his mansions in heaven. -) When Linda and Connie asked if he was excited to see his beloved wife who passed away 25 years earlier, his drawn-out response of  “maybe,” made them chuckle…perhaps in response that he was quick to remarry after her passing.

There were so many sweet, sacred moments at the viewing the night before and then as the family gathered for a family prayer the next morning before the funeral. As Linda tenderly held her father’s hand and kissed him good-bye before the coffin was closed for the final time, Hadley’s eyes welled up with tears as we felt the depth of love in the room. The weather was blustery at the graveside, somehow so befitting of the day. 

We were running a bit late as we arrived for the viewing at Jenkins-Soffe mortuary on Friday night. We quickly passed by a life-sized statue prominently on display in the lobby, what I assumed to be Christ with Mary at the tomb after he was resurrected.

 I was wrong. As we left the mortuary later that evening, my kids asked me if I’d noticed the statue and I nodded my affirmation. “But have you really seen it in its entirety?”

I didn’t know what they were talking about and Bode guided me to the back of the room to where I got the full view of this stunning work. It was not Jesus with Mary as I had assumed but rather, an old woman passing through the veil, only to be greeted by her Savior. What a powerful image that this life is only one part of our eternal progression. 

Mormon. 7: 5: “Know ye that ye must come to the knowledge of your fathers, and repent of all your sins and iniquities, and believe in Jesus Christ, that he is the Son of God, and that he was slain by the Jews, and by the power of the Father he hath risen again, whereby he hath gained the victory over the grave; and also in him is the sting of death swallowed up.”

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Delmont King Smith, 1927 ~ 2017

Delmont King Smith, 90, passed away peacefully on December 31, 2017 of causes incident to age. Dee was born on June 9, 1927 in Pocatello, Idaho, the third son of Henry Leslie Smith and Adelia Ada Loveland. When he was about 2 years old the family moved to Dillon, Montana where his father had purchased a dry cleaning business. His younger sister Peggy was born there. Dee enjoyed an idyllic childhood in Dillon in a neighborhood with lots of kids and outdoor activities. His parents taught their children the value of hard work and responsibility that laid the foundation for his life.

Dee was an excellent student. He skipped the sixth grade, graduating high school when he was 17 years old. He was awarded the outstanding senior cup at his graduation from Beaverhead High School, an award voted by the high school faculty. After graduation, Dee chose to attend Utah State Agricultural College (now USU). At a freshman gathering, he met a lovely girl from Burley, Idaho, Velva Lee Stokes. They dated regularly that year. In June 1945, Dee enlisted in the Navy and was assigned to the San Diego US Naval Training Station on the USS Erben. The most significant part of his naval experience was the light duty as a cook that allowed him to read the Book of Mormon from cover to cover for the first time. After his discharge in 1946, Dee returned home to marry his sweetheart from Idaho, Velva Lee, in the Salt Lake Temple on September 18, 1946.

Dee graduated from USAC (USU) in 1949 with a Bachelor of Science degree. That fall he began work on a master’s degree which he completed in 1955. In 1954 he graduated from Purdue University with a PhD in chemistry.

In February 1957, Dee’s oldest brother Don, his wife Anna Lou, and their infant daughter Deborah were killed in an airplane accident. The surviving children, Don, Sherryl, and Kathy came to live with Dee and Velva Lee and their four children, Linda, Connie, Dennis, and Shawna. Another son, David, was adopted in 1965, rounding out the family to 8 children. Dee has 35 grandchildren, and 83 great grandchildren with 3 more expected this year.

Music was always a major part of Dee’s life. He played in school bands from grade school through high school, and played drums in a dance band his older brother Don organized called Smitty’s Rhythm Rascals. He enjoyed playing the harmonica, ukulele, sweet potato, trumpet, tympani, anything with which he could make music.

His professional career included working for Rayonier Inc. in Shelton, Washington, and Johnson & Johnson in Chicopee Falls, Massachusetts and Whippany, New Jersey.

While working at J&J, he was the primary contributor to the development of Handi Wipes, disposable diapers and many other nonwoven products. After his retirement, he started his own consulting company, Smith Consulting.

In 1993 Dee lost his beloved Velva Lee. He later married Loretta Maynes Gillie. They had 10 years together traveling the world.

Dee was a dedicated member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He served in many callings including Sunday School teacher, Branch President, District President, Stake High Council, Counselor in Stake Presidency, and family history consultant.

Dee is preceded in death by his parents, his wife Velva Lee Smith and his wife Loretta Smith, his brothers Leslie and Don. He is survived by his children, Don (Brenda), Linda (Duane), Sherryl (Robert), Connie (Jim), Kathleen (Barry), Dennis (Joanne), Shawna (Mark), and David (Anna), and his sister Peggy (Burt).

The family wishes to thank the caregivers at Beehive House Draper, Pheasant Run in South Jordan and Silverado Hospice for their kindness and care during his final months.

Funeral services will be held on Saturday, January 6, 2018 at 11:00 am at the Glenmoor 4th Ward, 9455 South 4800 West, South Jordan, Utah. Viewings will be Friday,

January 5, 2018 at Jenkins-Soffe South Valley, 1007 W. South Jordan Parkway (10600 S), South Jordan, Utah and on Saturday from 10:00-10:45 am at the church. Interment at Wasatch Lawn Cemetery.

Filed Under: Family, LDS

This is Me

January 22, 2018 By

We recently met Jamie’s family in Salt Lake City for my nephew Darby’s 3-year-old birthday party complete with “Panda food” (which is apparently hot dogs and mac ‘n cheese) and the movie, The Greatest Showman.

(Circus preview show)

 

I had heard some positive buzz but honestly, it wasn’t on my radar at all. Even though Sound of Music is my favorite movie of all time, I’m not a huge fan of musicals because they often come across as forced and trite but from the opening scene, I knew this was something special.

 

Based on the true life story of P.T. Barnum, this visionary rose from nothing to create “The Greatest Show on Earth,” a spectacle and celebration of his larger-than-life imagination that captivated audiences around the globe. 

 

I have done a lot of promotions with Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus over the years and we were given some cool access to the productions and preview shows. Over the years, they have been plagued with allegations of mistreatment of animals  and have fought back, even removing elephants from their shows. But in the world of hyperconnectivity and YouTube, the audiences just weren’t there anymore and after a run of 146 years, their performances came to an end last year.

 

I’ll never forget the looks of sheer wonder when I took my kids to the circus and I’m so grateful they were numbered among the final generation to be a part of this celebration of what is possible.

 

The Greatest Showman is about love and acceptance, of how a bunch of “misfits” in society who rejected by their pwn families were brought together to create magic. With every song that was sung, I kept thinking “this is my favorite” and then each one would be topped with a new favorite.

 

“This Is Me” was sung by the bearded lady, Lettie Lutz (played by Keala Settle). I loved it so much that when I  got home from the movie, I found a version of it on YouTube that completely blew me away. The movie was seven years in development. Prior to getting approved, all of the performers, producers and Fox executives had to meet together in NYC (a process that took eight months) to do a read-through and perform the songs.


No one had ever heard Keala sing “This is Me” live and what transpired became what she called an “otherworldly experience” in this anthem for the underdog.

If you haven’t seen it yet, go. Take your friends and family. And teach them that we all play an important role in this big, beautiful world.

[Verse 1: Lettie Lutz]
I am not a stranger to the dark
Hide away, they say
‘Cause we don’t want your broken parts
I’ve learned to be ashamed of all my scars
Run away, they say
No one’ll love you as you are

[Pre-Chorus: Lettie Lutz]
But I won’t let them break me down to dust
I know that there’s a place for us
For we are glorious

[Chorus: Lettie Lutz]
When the sharpest words wanna cut me down
I’m gonna send a flood, gonna drown them out
I am brave, I am bruised
I am who I’m meant to be, this is me
Look out ’cause here I come
And I’m marching on to the beat I drum
I’m not scared to be seen
I make no apologies, this is me

[Post-Chorus: Ensemble]
Oh-oh-oh-oh
Oh-oh-oh-oh
Oh-oh-oh-oh
Oh-oh-oh-oh
Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, oh, oh

Filed Under: Bode, Hadley

Week One Work Update

January 20, 2018 By

I’m not gonna lie. My first week of work absolutely leveled me. I only worked three days and I put in waaaaay too many hours + Hadley got in a bad ski accident on Monday, stayed home Tuesdays (the day I was supposed to do all my last-minute projects) and then I started work on Wednesday. On Tuesday, Jamie was reading the email of the push-back he was receiving from the lawyer of the snowboarder who hit us (Hadley was absolutely NOT at fault) and I had to tell him he had to handle it. I. Just. Couldn’t. Deal. More details forthcoming about that joyous situation.

My new job is a 3/4 time position but I’m coming in at the busiest possible time so my hours are currently much longer with the promise of a lighter summer schedule. We have a huge event early-February, another in early-April that is already taking a lot of time as I compile donor reports and programs, send them to the designers, then the printers, edit the student’s media release, meet with the video team who will be recording the conference but who only handle the sound for their video recordings and didn’t you know there is another department that handles the hand-held mics and another for the lavalier? And this is only scratching the surface of the literally hundreds of items on my to-do list, most of which I do not know what to do. I thankfully had two days of training with the woman I’m replacing but she said her final good-byes yesterday and I felt like a baby bird getting thrown out of the nest. Violently.

On the positive note: I really like all the people I’m working with, it feels good to be in a collegiate setting again and I feel a sense of purpose in helping to promote our college. It’s a bit too dry for my taste so I hope to breathe some creativity and life into it once I figure out what the heck I’m supposed to be doing.

Jamie and I need to figure out a system for managing the household. We’ve have a very traditional division of labor as we’ve both worked from home.  I cooked all the dinners, managed the household and ran the kids around after school while Jamie worked, handled the finances and the yardwork. This week, Jamie had to do it all, which made him stressed as he fell behind at work.  Geez, working parents, how do you do it all? And single parents, you have my UTMOST respect.

Thursday night, we were supposed to start a 12-week self-reliance class at the church on personal finances (lo, do we need it to get back on track). But as we laid there passed out on the couch, knowing there is major homework required and an overhaul of our current system, we just couldn’t mentally and physically do it. I called the facilitators and when I learned we could start their next course in April, I was ALL-IN. The less we can take on during our acclimation, the better.

I went to lunch with my BFF Lori after a four-hour training a couple of weeks ago and as I lamented about all this job entailed, she encouraged me in her Lori way: “I just know you’re going to thrive in this job.”

She looked at my doubtful expression and continued, “Maybe not right away. But you will thrive.”

Here’s to “eventually” thriving.

Filed Under: Family

Workin’ Girl

January 17, 2018 By
It’s my first day working in an office in over 15 years! The adjustment and commute will be steep but my family will be feeling the pains the most. While Jamie has primarily taken care of finances and yardwork while working ridiculous hours at his company, I kept the house running with food, cleaning and chauffeuring. I don’t claim to be Martha Stewart but have done a pretty seamless job keeping things afloat.
But no one will be feeling my absence more than my Fat Kitty. He is my buddy as I work in my office and does not deal well with change. Plus, he’ll be left alone with Jamie all day and those two mix about as well as oil, water and whole lot of dysfunction.
I bought an Instant Pot which will hopefully help out with quick dinner prep but we need to set forth a plan and more defined chores. The kids and Jamie will now take more responsibilities for for dinners, laundry and dishes while Jamie helps drive kids around.  Admittedly, I’m the most worried about the kitchen because I’m a Nazi about having dishes in the sink and my husband and children have a mental block about loading the dishwasher.
I had hardworking parents. My dad had a stable 9-5 job at Chevron Canada and my mom was always busy with odd jobs like a grocery store food demonstrator. She even had a weekly classified newspaper route and I’d join her as we drove all around the city in our little Mini. I’d often sit on huge stacks of newspapers and delighted whenever a convenience store would give me a treat. Mom was always sewing and crafting, selling her amazing creations around the city. She opened her tea room and gift shop when I was in junior high. I can’t remember feeling like things were falling through the cracks in her absence because it became a family business and I started waitressing when I was just 12 years old.
My Aunt Sue sent me some fun memories growing up with her working mother:
Teach your kids to cook so supper is ready when you get home.  Your mom was cooking for us at age 15 and for the widower down the street, Mister Allen, and his son, Bobby. My mom went back to teaching in Stirling when I was in grade one so Chris [my mom] would have been 14. Dad came in from the farm at noon and got some lunch for me and Miriam while Chris started helping with suppers. Dad did all the laundry. We had a ringer washer in the basement and he read western novels while the clothes washed and then he would ring them out and hang them up. Thanks to our progressive mother, we had a very progressive father :)
The kids CAN keep their rooms up and help out a lot. We weren’t allowed out of the house on Saturdays until our rooms were clean, beds changed, the floors mopped and the ironing done. Old fashioned but we all learned to be good workers.
You have been seeking the path and now you are on the yellow brick road. It’s it amazing how our paths come up to meet us.

Here’s to a new yellow brick road that will hopefully be shiny and clean!

Filed Under: BYU, Family
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