Aren't We All Beggars...

...before the throne of Candy?

I thought it was no longer true for me. I pretty much gave up sugar over 3 years ago. Oh yeah, I'll have a cookie here, or a small piece of cake there. I don't make many sweet things at home and when I do I don't necessarily have to have piece after piece as if it were the last time I'd ever see it again. I can say "No thank you" without any feelings of regret when chocolate is offered and am content to order water at a restaurant, then have a couple of sips from my husband's Root Beer when we go out for dinner. I can even drink herbal tea with very little agave added, but I do need lemon.

The day before Halloween I had to go to Costco and pick up my usual supply of veggies, fruit, whole grain bread, soy milk and organic pumpkin seed granola. Then I saw the bags of bulk candy and realized it was almost Halloween. I can't disappoint the little sugar-a-holics when they come to my door so I picked up a single bag and called it good. (Was it a subconscious choice that there were fun sized Almond Joys and Reeses Peanut Butter Cups in that bag?)

I was looking over the apples (HAVE YOU SEEN THE PRICE OF APPLES??) trying to decide if I would treat myself to some Honey Crisp apples or just go with the lower priced Fuji and got into a conversation with a young mother doing the same thing. Her little boy was munching away on some candy and she had 2 bags of candy in her cart. She convinced me to treat myself to some Honey Crisp apples, especially when I told her that I don't eat candy anymore...She was impressed. I was smug.

I got home, unloaded the groceries and started putting them away. I put the bag of candy on the dining room table (1st mistake, I should have taken it over to the neighbor's for safe keeping) and proceeded to find places for everything else when my eyes started straying to That Bag. At first scornfully, as the little voices started calling me through the cellophane bag and I dismissed them with the calm assurance of One Who Has Abstained. I don't know what happened then. I don't. I think I was possessed.

I Opened The Bag.

For all you mothers out there you KNOW: Opening the bag = ringing the dinner bell and saying "COME AND GET IT!" This was mistake #2 a sin.

One little fun sized Almond Joy lead to two, then three, then I just HAD to have a Reeses Peanut Butter Cup too because I just knew all the trick-or-treaters were going to trick-or-treat me out in less than 36 hours and THERE WOULDN'T BE ANY MORE because I don't have any children at home to rob!

I spilled the bag onto the table and threw that cellophane bag on the floor as I started pawing (PAWING) through the pile. I took ALL the little Almond Joys out of the pile and stashed them in a container at the back of my cupboard. SAFE! I guiltily ate one more Reeses Peanut Butter Cup with a large glass of milk (Ahhhhhh!) and scooped the rest of the candy into my largest bowl (it barely fit) which was comforting, I hadn't really made THAT much of a dent in it. Then I hid the bowl in the fireplace behind the chain curtain. "There", I said to myself. I'm fine now. I'm good. It was an aberration. It' won't happen again.

This is not the end of the story. Remember the little stash? The 15-20 fun sized Almond Joys hibernating in my cupboard? This is shameful, truly shameful, but I understand confession is good for the soul.

The trick-or-treaters came. And I was generous! I gave out two at a time to each little visitor, admired their costumes and waved them merrily on. Then I started worrying. The bowl was emptying faster than I expected and my husband isn't one to turn off the lights early. I began to worry that I would have to reveal my little stash ("Where did all these Almond Joys come from?" my husband would ask suspiciously. "They weren't here before.") I cringed. I was Lot's wife looking back to my little pile of pilfered coconut, almond and chocolate confections, loath to share it with anyone, and praying I wouldn't be turned into a pillar of salt. I started handing out only one to each little ghoul, and I did feel selfish. I kept looking at the clock, knowing that the door would be silent soon after 8. It came down to bottom of the bowl and those little Almond Joys were weighing heavier than a 50 lb. bag of sugar. But I did not relent.

I suggested that we just turn off the porch lights and close up shop but my generous husband would have none of that. No little sweet-toothed-beggar would go away empty handed from our door. No sirree! While the next trio waited at the door he leaped up the stairs and brought down, to my mounting shame, his own box of full sized Snickers Bars and handed them out. Guilt, Guilt, GUILT! But still, I would not relent. It was a matter of pride now. How shameful to reveal to my generous husband my smallness...I am small.

Then, in the end...he brought out the treats I keep on hand for my grand-daughter Sophie. (This is truly pitiful.) Her little bags of Teddy Grahams and Welches Fruit snacks. I couldn't watch. I went upstairs. Each step weighed down by the great weight of my, now 12, fun sized Almond Joys. I am a selfish monster.

The next day, November 1st, I made brownies for my husband. (He loves brownies.) He was having a meeting at our house that night and I decided to make up for my smallness and weakness by making refreshments. After making the batter I had a thought! "I am bigger than Fun Sized Almond Joy's." (A lot bigger.) I dug out my little stash, unwrapped each one and pressed them into the batter before baking. My offering to the new Sunday School Presidency looking for some redemption. How better to dress up chocolate brownies than with more chocolate and coconut?

During their meeting I went upstairs to sew and my beloved, forgiving, kind, and generous of spirit, sister Lisa called and I confessed...which lead to her confessions and we started laughing so hard I had to lay down on the floor. Tears flowed freely as we guffawed loudly and with an great hilarity bordering on insanity, (I wonder what those men thought of the insane cackling that was going on upstairs during their meeting.) about our similar foibles. We are sisters, it's true.

SHE! bought candy at the BEGINNING of October thinking it would last...after opening the bag. *snort* Yeah, right. Then she hid the bag on her husband's side of the bed. The honest man that he is would put the empty wrappers back in the bag, but SHE! would hide her wrappers at the bottom of the trash can so that he thought he'd eaten the entire bag himself. We are not so different. But there is comfort in not feeling alone.

I love you Lisa, from the top of your pointy head to the end of your webbed toes. xoxox

Next time I will not buy the candy. My husband will. And he will hide it...from me. He has way more will power than I do.

The Journey

This whole thing started out as sleeplessness and so far it's ended the same, but the journey inbetween has been...not what I expected, in a good way.


In the past 4+ months I have never felt so out of control, so tired, so unendingly sick, dizzy, anxious, nauseated, frantic and exhausted in my life. After 4 different prescriptions and the threat of a 5th I finally just said No. Stop. Wait.

I was so afraid that I would get addicted to the sleeping pills that I gave no thought to the "Lowest-Dose-of Hormones-You-Can-Get-In-A-Birth-Control-Pill" that was given to me to 'Balance' my hormones after a lengthy period of time with little or no sleep last October.

It was The Pill that caused the most problems. While it gave my flagging hormones a needed boost at the beginning it created a firestorm of negative effects for the next several months. Towards the end, meaning the last two weeks of taking The Pill, and the two weeks after that, I really did think I was going crazy. Literally. I was really, really scared. I cried at the drop of a hat or a casual, "Hey Kristine. How're you doing?" I was losing weight because I felt so nauseated most of the time. There were many days when I didn’t trust myself to drive because I was so dizzy. My hands shook. My thoughts raced. I couldn't concentrate on ANYTHING. No movies, no books, not even listening to books. I would pace around the house during the day with nervous, exhausted energy and not get anything done. Panic would fill my chest at the thought of fixing dinner for just Steve and I, let alone for a family get together. I longed for and dreaded bedtime. Crazy, frustrating dreams haunted my sleep. When in the temple, or in church meetings I had to hold on to the armrests of the chair or Steven’s hands to keep myself from jumping up and running out of the room, not even knowing why. I found out from friends that I'm an amazing 'faker'. I guess I can fake it pretty well for short periods of time.

My poor husband was the only one who saw it all. He's been such a rock, such a deep well of patience. I'd been praying for relief. Begging. I'd had several blessings and I had also been administered to. I felt so overwhelmed with daily tasks that I finally asked for more help.

The RS Presidency came over one night to 'visit'. I have a feeling they'd taken notice of my strange behavior in RS the Sunday before and they wanted to check on me. Melynda, who knew part of what was going on, asked me, "How's the sleep thing?" and I just broke down in tears and told them everything. They were very kind and understanding. I was so embarrassed but also relieved. We laughed about some of the stranger things and they shared some of their own experiences also. They stayed for more than an hour and when they left they all hugged me Hard, and told me they would all pray for me. I felt so unworthy, but so very thankful.

After a few days more of the same ol' nastiness I broke down and wrote an e-mail to my children, my brothers and sisters, and my parents asking for prayers of healing, and for understanding if I wasn't able to carry off the Family Reunion this year. (It's my turn.) The return of love and concern, and promises of prayers and help was so overwhelming and immediate that I spent the day in tears of gratitude. I even got e-mails and messages from nieces and nephews whom I didn't contact. Such is the family grapevine.

Things didn't change a whole lot for a few days and I was getting so very desperate. The sleeping pills weren't giving me more than 6 hours of sleep a night and often less than that. I went to see the Dr. again and he prescribed an anti-depressant telling me that I wouldn't feel the full effect for at least two weeks. I was hopeful and things went well for a couple of days and then I started feeling my heart rate rise for lengthy periods of time and then, when I went on my usual walk last Monday (March 5), my heart was racing so fast that my entire jaw ached up into the back of my head. It scared me. I thought to myself, "Is this a heart attack? A stroke?" I had no cell phone and I was walking along a deserted ditch bank. I slowed my pace and finally made it home then went right to the Doctor AGAIN. Yes, my blood pressure was unusually high and there was a mention of another prescription for high blood pressure and I finally said 'No. I'm going off the anti-depressant. I'm just going to take the pills for sleep and I'll see you at the end of the month and we'll take it from there.' I had also started some other, different things that have created a peaceful place inside me. A place to go, and things to do, that can only bring good things to my mind and heart.

I've seen the nurse twice since then to measure my blood pressure and today it was 110/80. Perfect.

I've had almost a week of 'feel good' days. No nausea. No dizziness. No helpless feelings of depression. The anxiety has lessened, though I still get minor panic attacks. I still don't get a full night’s sleep but I'm sure that will come in time.

I had no idea that when I was asking for help and prayers that they would be answered like this: My faith has increased incredibly. My awareness of the suffering of others has increased. My prayers lately have been far more grateful and heartfelt than ever before, and the askings are rarely for me anymore. What I've gone through in the past months is a drop in an immense bucket compared to a gentleman just down the block who has serious back pain, and has had it almost all his life, along with life threatening asthma but who has served as a bishop and is now the Stake Patriarch, and has always been a kind and generous man as long as I've known him.

-Or an amazing friend just down the street who is suffering with brain cancer/chemo/surgery and still has such faith and cheerfulness about her.

-Or the young mother of 4 young girls who is in her last weeks of pregnancy with twin boys and is on bedrest to keep them. She already knows that they will be born with cleft lips and possibly palates and may have to be taken C-section, yet she seems so peaceful and full of faith.

-Or the sweet friend who's been through, and is still going through what I've experienced and more, and she's also dealing with daily trips to the hospital to be with her dieing father.

I still have to take a pill to get any kind of sleep. But it's not an ISSUE any more. My Heavenly Father had a much greater blessing to bestow on me: I KNOW that I have an amazing network of loving and concerned friends and family. I've had an increase of faith and tender awareness of blessings. I have a greater appreciation for the atonement of my Savior, and the healing power of daily scripture study. And I understand on a much deeper level the power of Caring For Others. I live among angels and I want to be just like them.

Airline Wisdom

Recently I've been able to witness a very common occurrence no less than 6 times in less than 10 days in one form or another:



No, it's not very exciting. And  yes, I mostly ignored it. But after hearing it time after time over the course of one's life there are certain things that begin to make sense in more than just the airplane scenario. 

Thank you Elder Uchtdorf.

For instance, that whole part about making sure that your air mask is on securely before you help anyone else. There are some who may see that as silly or even selfish. How hard is it to quickly put a child's air mask on before your own. Isn't that a bit selfish or even dangerous to the child to deprive them of oxygen just so you can get your oxygen first? But there is wisdom here. How can we possibly help a helpless child if we ourselves fall into unconsciousness before we're able to help them? What if they're fear is so great that we have to waste precious airless moments struggling with them in order to put their mask on, and then keep it on?

All kinds of scenarios. All kinds of outcomes. But the basic message is that you have to be in a position of strength in order to give strength to others. If you don't have it to begin with, how can you give it to anyone else?

Lately, that's how I feel. I have no strength. I am weak, weak, weak, tired, tired, tired.

I'm doing everything I can to get back to a position of strength but I think it's going to take some time.

It's hard for me to be patient with myself. I don't want to go back to the doctor and say, "I need more drugs." I really don't think that's the answer anyway. Maybe it's the whole patience thing...yeah, not so good at that.

I take Xanax one night and get 8 hours, I feel gritty eyed in the morning and a bit hung over but it was sleep. I take it the next night and get 6 hours with a couple of toss and turn hours afterwards and a draggy day. I thought I'd take my friend's advice and try 1/2 Ambien at bed time and if I wake up during the night, take the other. It worked for 2 nights but last night I took 1/2, never fell asleep so I took the second half at about two and skimmed the surface of sleep like a skeeter bug. The surface tension of sleep was just too hard to penetrate even with drugs. I understand the a little soap will soften the surface tension of water so that fruit flies will drown...

My brain won't let me sleep. My eyes jiggle in their sockets like nervous twitchy bugs when I try to keep them closed, yet if I open them so that they can fall closed naturally my eyelids hang there at half mast, limp and useless, feeling tired and stupid with my eyeballs hanging like dull red moons just beyond the sails of sleep.

My hot flashes and night sweats have increased uncomfortably, in frequency and intensity, which doesn't help.

I have a lot of questions to ask someone after this life.

Most of them begin with 'Why?'

On the upside: I have a most patient, kind, supportive caring, strong husband who's trying desperately to help me put on my oxygen mask.

I'm going to try some relaxing yoga before bed tonight. I hear that helps.

First Trip Across The Pond

First of all I'll preface this with the advice that IF you decide to go Transatlantic, either plan on going First Class, where you *might* sleep, or if you decide to go coach just don't plan on sleeping at all. That way, if you do sleep it will be a pleasant surprise.

That said we'll just move on.

Our plane left Salt Lake on Saturday, October 15th at 7:10 am. We arrived in Frankfurt Germany via Phoenix-Philadelphia at about 9:30 am Germany time Sunday the 16th (which is about 1:30 am Salt Lake time). Our arrival was a miracle. At least to me, because I thought that flight would NEVER end. It just kept going and going and going. I have a new idea of Hell and it closely resembles a transatlantic seat in coach right behind the bulkhead with a view into first class where they're actually RECLINING and being served a hot breakfast and orange juice in GLASS glasses *with cloth napkins!*, unlike my place where they *say* your seat is capable of being in a position other than 'upright' but it sure doesn't feel like it. My spine and head and rear can testify to this. I know I looked scary when facing the passport officials but they stamped my passport anyway. I guess they're used to people looking like that, (and the US dollar is VERY welcome).

 This is the pickup area at the Frankfurt International Airport.

Munchen is actually what we call Munich...which begs the question: Why don't we just call it what they call it? It IS their city. Do they secretly call Salt Lake City something else entirely? I don't know...

The landscape is very reminiscent of our New England. Rolling hills, trees, rural farm scenes etc... The only thing that let me know that we were in Germany was the architecture and the signs in German.

They drive on the same side of the road that we do, their steering wheel is on the same side, they're cars tend to be smaller, the roads narrower, the city designs less green. Which isn't to say that they're not beautiful, just less landscaping with green things like trees, shrubs etc...

Funny thing - Their exit signs look like this:

Pronounced (h)ousefahrt (House without the 'H' but it's sure tempting to pronounce it with a genteel Auss). For Americans anything with the word 'fart' in it is going to get at least a smirk. There's even a T-shirt sold at the army base that says:

Pretty funny huh? Had I not gone to Germany already in the know about this little tidbit I probably would have asked the same questions because the signs are EVERYWHERE. Just think of all the places you see our EXIT sign. Yeah...all those same places. The word for 'Entrance' is Einfahrt.

Jeni picked us up at about 10:30 or so Sunday morning. It was so wonderful to see Jeni, Fitz and Swede!! As tired as I was I didn't sleep at all until we went to bed that night, even though I'd been up for more than 36 hours by that time. That's what happiness will do to a person. We saw Stephanie, Rue and Al when we finally got to Bergrheinfeld about 2 hours later. Oh how I'd missed my daughters! It was just lovely. Rue is a darling, sweet baby. Swede is as charming as ever and Fitz is a sunny little entertainer. We went for a long walk with the kids in Bergrheinfeld ending up at a little park close to home.

We only saw Al Sunday afternoon and a little bit Monday morning and then he was gone for the rest of our visit on field training exercises with his platoon.

Monday we spent visiting the Army Base in Schweinfurt and aldstadt (old town) Schweinfurt. I love aldstadt ANYWHERE in Germany. They do such a great job preserving their old cities. The courtyards are all cobbled and people just wander around feeding the pigeons. Fitz and Swede love chasing the poor birds but they're so fat they probably need the exercise anyway and it's so nice to watch the kids have such fun doing something so simple. These pictures were taken with Schweinfurt City Hall in the background. Stephanie took a tour of this building and has some nice pictures.

While Steven and Jeni fed the kids at McDonalds, Stephanie and I went hunting for real food. We came back with 4 Döners for the grownups. It's a type of German sandwich which isn't German at all, it's Turkish. Which doesn't really  matter in the least because it was first real food I'd had in a while and was so scrumptious I can't believe I ate the whole thing! It had shredded cabbage instead of lettuce, red cabbage too. Very, very yummy.

Jeni picked up some very decadent special order cupcakes that afternoon that a friend had made and we got to meet her friend Jessica and her children when they came for the cupcake party. I went with Stephanie to the local grocery store EDEKA and picked up some stuff for dinner and I was able to see a bit of the town and get a good look at the church whose bells haunted me almost every night, ringing every 15 minutes so you are never in doubt as to what time it is. It's a beautiful old church, by the way, just rather insistent that everyone know what time it is.

It was a bit damp for a few days and we didn't venture forth much. We played with the kids and Steven treated us girls to the Day Spa on base where I got a massage from a large German Fraulein (very strong, never been slapped on the back that hard before) and Jeni and Stephanie got pedicures. It was really nice. On Friday we went to the Mall...which is really just like any other mall except that English isn't spoken. Which does change the shopping experience considerably. We let the kids run around in the play areas...

...and I discovered that eating establishments don't provide any plastic-ware! Just silverware. It became very apparent that everyone is very conscious of what is thrown away. They recycle EVERYTHING. Even in the restrooms they don't have paper towels to dry one's hands with, they have either air dryers or those big dispensers with huge rolls of fabric. They don't want to have to recycle if they can avoid it. Commendable.

This post is getting a bit lengthy so I'll pause here and continue later. Maybe then I'll be able to access some of Stephanie's pictures too.

The Wedding - Daniel & Hillary

It's been a long time coming. As they said in their announcement:

"Daniel & Hillary

are getting...

married! Finally."

They've known each other for more than seven years. They were planning on getting married two years ago, broke it off, and then got back together around Christmas time last year and made the final decision which culminated in a wonderful celebration on Friday, the 23rd of September, 2011.

We had it in our back yard which seemed roomy and large to us at the time, us being the only two people living at this address right now, but became downright cozy, if not cramped, when we set up 92 chairs on Friday morning for the wedding ceremony that afternoon. I could just kick myself for not taking pictures. I meant to. I had every intention of doing so, but for some reason it didn't happen. Steven extracted some stills from his video footage so I could have something. I'm hoping we can have access to the digital photos that the photographer took.

Of all the pictures that were taken on that day there is one that was taken, with my eyes only, that I'll never forget. I doubt the photographer got it. In fact I'm sure she didn't for her camera was focused elsewhere, as were most everyone's eyes. It's tradition for everyone to stand and look towards the bride when she walks down the isle with her father, glorious in her finery. It's her day. It's her right. I glanced, but I did not follow her with my eyes. Not because she wasn't beautiful, she was breathtaking. And not because I didn't love her, I do. I was looking at someone else. I wanted to see something else, and I wasn't disappointed.

My favorite part of the whole day was my son's face when he saw his bride for the first time in her wedding dress walking down the isle towards him. If he has ever been my Sunshine Boy it was in that moment. It wasn't the dress...no. It was her, and more importantly, her choice to make this commitment to him, and only him. His eyes held all the love I have ever wished for him. I wanted to see that. I wanted to be a witness to that moment and see that devotion, that caring, that commitment. I'm so happy for him. Truly and deeply happy for him.

The refreshment area

Me, Daniel, Hillary, Steven

Daniel's Side of the Family...or most of them that were there.

Daniel's immediate family in attendance

Hillary's immediate family

Photo Table

The reception area

Wedding Quilt Continued - Putting it all together

One week ago today I started cutting.
At 8:30 this evening I put the final border on and it's ready for the quilter.

It has been asked if the definition of madness might be to take a perfectly good piece of cloth and cut it into hundreds of little pieces, then sew them back together again.

I'm not completely convinced that they might not have a point there. (Double negative intended)

Block 1 pieces -          697
Block 2 pieces -          588
First border pieces -        7
Final border pieces -  +   4
           Grand Total - 1,296 pieces

I've participated in greater madness than this, and will probably continue to do so. I find it oddly therapeutic. Which may well confirm the diagnosis.

*Very Deep Sigh*

Wedding Quilt Continued - The Cutting/Sewing of Block #2

I started cutting for block 2 when we got home from The Greek Festival on Thursday night. Since I was working from a picture of a quilt that I saw online and then drew up in my quilting software, and not from a published pattern, I had to do a lot of the math and figuring myself.

This is one of my worksheets that I'm using for cutting. I've found that quilting has kept my brain pretty limber. I'm grateful for that. As my mother has often reminded me, "Use it or lose it Kristine." Well, I'm using it.

For all of the triangles in this block I had to use templates like the one shown at left. I needed to cut 144 light half-triangles like the one shown, 24 dark half-triangles, and 52 dark full-triangles.










I cut several strips the height of the template in both light and dark fabrics then laid the template on top making sure that the edge of the template sat square against the edge.  Then I laid my ruler on top of the template, lining my quarter inch seam line on the ruler exactly on top of my solid stitch line on the template. Then cut. Also trimming the little corners to make it easier to line up my pieces when sewing them together.

In addition I cut 9 dark 2 1/2" strips and 9 light 2 1/2" strips, sewed each dark strip next to a light strip then sub-cut each strip set into as many 2 1/2" segments as I could get out of each set. All those pieces had to come together like this during my Friday sewing session:



Each 12" block contains 32 pieces. (There are 12 of those totaling 384 pieces) Each 12" x 6" block consists of 17 pieces. (There are also 12 of those totaling 204 pieces)

For a grand total of 588 pieces for Block #2.