My Name is Kris and I Blah-g

Like most vacations, our trek to Fish Lake was too short. But it wet everyone’s appetite for more. I think we’ll be back to Fish Lake soon. If not before the end of this season, definitely next and probably every year after that. Word is that folks kinda liked the escape, spending time with each other and enjoying the simple things like cookouts, floating along the lake and smores. This just might turn into a family tradition. The only thing that would have made it better was if we could have all stayed in the same place. Some were in a cabin by the Fish Lake Lodge and others were either camping down the street or in a rustic cabin that would allow pets. It really makes it tempting to see how much it would cost to get our own cabin up there. I think if we had our own place, it would get used A LOT. Maybe some day…So I tried out my new lens this weekend. It is certainly wide angle which should make for some decent pictures in a few weeks when we go on the cruise. Below is a gallery of pix from this latest trip. It’s not all of them but it gives a good idea of what the place was like and how we enjoyed ourselves. And no…there are NO pictures of me..I was specifically grundgy this past weekend – very un-lady like. Let’s just say I looked a lot like Rosie O’Donnell… I’m not so sure I’d want the public to see that! LOL!

I am weary folks. Today was a busy busy day! For the past couple of years, pretty much since our trip to Nauvoo two summers ago, we had been planning a trip to the south for the bi-annual Westover Family reunion. But this year the plans fell through when the cost of a 3 day trip just wasn’t a justifiable expense. We knew it was important for some to go so we sent Dad and Jeff. They have had a very productive trip there getting to catch up with family and digitizing tons of family photos. Meanwhile, back at home, we were going to have a different 4th…no fireworks in front of Jeff’s house. This break in tradition is almost un-American. What’s a family to do? Throw a party of course!  So, while Dad and Jeff were partying it up in Georgia, the rest of us had a little shindig back here at home. The bounce castle and snow cone machine were HUGE hits. They were delivered the night before and won’t be picked up until tomorrow because who wants to work on the 4th?! I definitely got my money’s worth out of that rental. Our morning started much earlier than I anticipated. I kept Madelyn, Emma and Michaela pretty busy last night and didn’t even send them to bed until after 10. Still, they were up before 7. It was going to be a long day.

Happy Father’s Day, everyone! Today is weird. The anticipation is usually worse than the actual day. For the past couple of days I’ve been feeling pretty “blah” about this whole day but now that it’s here, I’m ok. Go figure. Today is also strange because we can’t celebrate it like we used to. Last year didn’t count because we were flying home from Hawaii on Father’s Day. It was a good distraction. There was no time to be too reflective. But this year, we’re at home. Church has been cancelled because there is a Swine Flu break out here in our area and so we’re just kinda hanging out today. We’ll go visit Mike at the cemetery today and we’ll shower Grandad with presents but that will be that. It’s kinda sad in a way. No pomp and cirumstance. No paper ties for the Dads at church. Just quiet. I was looking at some pictures of Mike and Michaela this morning. Mike was a doting father. I think sometimes he expected more out of Michaela than she gave – perhaps a Daddy’s girl. She wasn’t. She loved her father, don’t get me wrong. But she’s always been a little attached to me. Selfishly, I think that’s kinda cool but in a way I am wondering if it was some divine plan to help us both out because Mike wasn’t going to be here as time went on. We were going to need each other. And we do. I am not sure how well I could have coped the past 18 months had she not been here. She’s a remarkable little girl. Anyway, I have a few pictures to share. I actually have tons of pictures of Mike and Michaela. If there’s one thing I have done right the past 7 years it’s that I have documented her life pretty well. She will always have these memories of her Dad…

These moments come when I least expect them. But a couple events are colliding this week and I suppose the feelings I am experiencing are to be expected. Still…I wish they would just stay away. I’ve been there, done that, so to speak. Honestly, after nearly 18 months I am ready to stop feeling this way. Tomorrow is Father’s Day. And like last year, we’ll make a pilgrimage to the cemetery to leave flowers for Mike. This custom helps Michaela. She needs a place to go and I wonder how as time goes on how much she’ll remember of her Dad. So far, she’s doing really well. We speak of him often. We laugh about some of the crazy things he used to do. And usually these talks will follow up with this question she asks me, “You gonna cry, Mom?” I suppose she’s seen me do a lot of that in the most recent past. The tears come every once in a while – not as steady as they used to. I am thankful for that. It’s exhausting. I am thankful that I can speak about her Dad – most of the time, without tears. And as grateful as I am for the dry eyes, it doesn’t stop the thoughts….the quiet moments of staring out the window… the feeling of a heavy heart. It started for me last night. No warning. It just happened. I had hoped that sleep would allow me to wake today with a renewed energy to forget this mood and hope for a happy weekend. But the clouds are grey again, the rain is falling and it’s just so easy to keep the feelings blue.My realtor called yesterday. The final appraisal is done. The sale is going through. There’s no reason for me to go over there anymore. I just need to wait for the call. Then, I will go get the check cut for what I owe (which is  A LOT) and with that and Mike’s death certificate in hand, I will go sign the papers to release the house from my name. And that will be that. The burden of a monthly house payment will be gone but that is the only thing that I relieved about. It’s hard to react when I am congratulated about this. Really? Congratulations on selling the home I shared with my husband and daughter? Is that good news?So, I will allow myself this moment to be sad but I am determined to get myself out of this because I am done. I am done being sad. I am done feeling sorry for myself. I am done allowing what was to define who I am now. It’s not me. Wish me luck…I’m gonna need it.

This morning Michaela was her talkative self. She usually babbles about whatever and changes subjects quickly. Half the time I have no idea what she’s talking about because I am sure she is processing information in her little head thinking that I am part of that conversation she is having with herself. Her questions will usually be totally out of context and unfortunately, I am not a mind reader. This morning, however she asked an interesting question. Mom, why do we celebrate the 4th of July?So, this is one of those moments that parents live for – the chance to provide a little window into the past in American History. This time period is one of my favorites because it was a real time when the country stood up against tyranny and we fought for our freedom, literally. But since Michaela is not quite 7 I would have to keep the explanation brief and simple. So I said, “Did you know that America wasn’t always America? And that we once belonged to England and were ruled by a King? Well, the King was not very nice. And the people here wanted to be free from the King. So we fought in a war and declared ourselves free people so we could become our own country.”"And that happened on the 4th of July?” she asked.”Well, we signed the Declaration of Independence around the 4th of July.” I responded.There was silence as Michaela processed this information. Finally she asked, “Were you in it?”This is that moment in a sitcom where the butt of the joke – ME – looks straight into  the camera and waits for the audience to stop laughing. I could have been pretty insulted but I smiled. And softly explained to my dear, sweet, little girl that “No. Mommy was not in the Revolutionary War. That was over 200 years ago. Mommy is NOT that old.”*sigh* Since when is 37 old?

Today I went to empty out the rest of my house. I grossly underestimated how much stuff I had left over there. It’s like once it left my home, it expanded!! I thought that I’d simply pack what I was keeping towards the front of the truck and what I was donating in the back. Not so fast…first, we had to get the heavy stuff into the truck. The heavy stuff was the washer/dryer and the treadmill. If figured, well, it’s not a refrigerator, how hard can it be? Yeah. I’m a dummy. We strapped the washing machine onto the dolly with a couple of bungee cords. Debbie took to hoisting it up the stairs and I took to pushing it up the stairs. Matt wondered what he was supposed to do and I told him that he should remain behind me in case I fell. Good thing. We got about a quarter of the way up and the Debbie lost her grip on the dolly as it came flying out from beneath the washing machine. The washing machine quickly pushed me down about 3 stairs. It hit the wall and I rolled over on to my right ankle. Yeah, ouch. I felt Matt’s hand firmly against my back as he stopped my plunge down the stairs. I looked up to see the machine start to tilt towards my face and at the last second turned my head to keep it from coming down on my nose. It was a close one. I lucked out. We, however realized that we were in over our heads. This thing wasn’t going up the stairs with us carrying it. PANIC. Calls to my brothers were fruitless. One wasn’t home and the other is currently battling a scorching case of flu which has taken over his household. My nephew Deven was gone for the weekend and that left us seriously lacking the muscle to get these things up the stairs. Well, what can I say?? Thank goodness for old friends and the church. My old neighbor emerged from her home. She must have heard the commotion or she felt the panic gushing from my ears. I relayed our problem and she offered to get the phone number of the Relief Society president for me. It couldn’t hurt. I was *this* close to calling U-Haul’s moving people that they so conveniently advertised all over the inside of their trucks. It was bad enough that this $19.95 local rental was going to in reality cost me $100. I was desperate enough to pay some strangers to come haul my crap.I called up Sister Winward and asked if she remembered me. Of course she did. It’s her job to remember. Anyway, I told her my problem and asked if she could call around and find me a couple strong guys to help. Within about 15 minutes we had a couple men from the ward walking up my driveway and in another 20 they had the washer/dryer, treadmill and half of my garage loaded, including my old couch. LIFE SAVERS!! At this point, thought it was obvious that it was going to take more than one trip to the D.I. to get this stuff donated. So Deb and Matt begged off to get lunch and I trudged down to the D.I. to off load my junk. They took all of it but when they got to the couch, it had very nearly made it to the ground when some guy came over and said, “No can do, Missy. We can’t sell this couch. It’s stained.” Geez. Beggars can’t be choosers! You’re getting it for FREE..sell it for $5 and get off my back! Yeah, I didn’t say that. Again, Panic ensued. I decided that I was going to forget the second trip to the D.I. I was running out of time and with this couch taking up valuable real estate in the truck, there was no way I was going to get my house emptied. I called Matt and said, “We’re going to the dump!”The storm clouds were moving in quickly. Daytime was now looking like night and we could hear the rumbling of thunder in the distance. By the time we got the truck loaded with things for the dump, the rain was coming down. The lightning was surrounding us and we knew that this may be the big adventure of the day. We got to the dump just in time for the rain to start falling like crazy. What took about 45 minutes to load, took about 5 to unload. And just like that, our possessions were in a soggy heap behind the U-haul. The last thing out was that ol’ couch. Mike and I bought that couch about the time we were married 12 years ago. It was still a good couch. A bit warn, yes. But with a good cleaning and maybe a slip cover, it would have worked well for some other family in need. Alone, I grabbed hold of the bottom of the couch and lifted it on its end and sent it sailing out into the rain. That couch seemed to tumble out in slow motion. The cushions came loose and landed in the pile of old kitchen appliances, broken candles and our first dining table that we bought at Walmart 11 years ago for $99. It, too would have worked well for someone in need. And now it was broken, the glass shattered during our frenzied attempts to get the truck cleared before we were soaked to the bone. The irony of seeing all of it come to this was almost too much to take. It was too late now to make the calls to family members to see if they could use any of this stuff. It was just too late. We had only so much time with the truck and the rest of it was going to be spent taking the rest of my stuff to my new home.The rain was really coming down now. The sight of the road was marred by the intense lightning that was striking all around us and the water that was falling faster than the windshield wipers could brush it away. Debbie and I worked quickly to load the truck back up. And within an hour had the truck back home and unloaded. There was little time to spare as we pulled into the rental return lot at 5 minutes to the hour before they closed. And like that, we were done. What’s left of my history is now in boxes and plastic totes piled high in my sister’s garage. It will remain there probably until I move again or I get the nerve to go through it and realize it was foolish of me to move it as many times as I did. But all that’s left are the momentos from high school, my courtship with Mike, our wedding…. I just can’t bear to part with any of it.My house is empty now save for a couple random knick knacks which I will retrieve in a couple days. A good sweep with the vacuum and the place will be good enough to hand over to the new owners. And that too will be another momentous occasion. I had always thought that the day I left this house would be the day that Mike and I would be moving on to warmer pastures – like Newport Beach.The sun finally emerged by late afternoon. I also got to take a gander at my right ankle. Resting made me realize that it was hurting. And for good reason, it was swollen to about twice its natural size. A souvenir. How wonderful. I know that I should be relieved. And I guess I am. It is good to have that part over. And to an odd degree, I feel like maybe I am just not sad enough about any of this. I am reflective and that does provide for some melancholy. But I just can’t be sad. Maybe I am just ready to move forward. Maybe I’m just tired. Maybe… I am just ready to stop grieving and just say, “God be with you ’til we meet again.”