It takes a village

 Today from the sanctuary: I’ve been advocating all week for children! How village life is so important. How having a village helps balance and teach and grow and strengthen. I’ve been able to meet people from across the pond and land and work on a greater goal. More than anything I could accomplish alone. Today, I was reminded that sometimes it takes a village for the adults as well. I was gifted more gifts today than I’ve received in the past three years and as I saw them on my table, I was reminded, it’s ok to live in the village. As I walked through the field and pulled up a lawn chair to watch the sunset with my village people, I thought, wouldn’t this be a great way to end every day? My heart waits for the day when we all live together in our village. Some fish, some cook, some clean, some entertain, some organize and some care. Thanks Ethan Kafton, for gifting me your plate. Now I won’t have to order chicken nuggets just for the frisbee. Thanks Jill Rasmussen for some Aggie swag, I bleed blue because of you. Thanks Matt Israelsen for noodle dinner in between work and religious duties. Thanks Hilary Groutage for making me smile and now I have an official pack to take to weekend brunch at Ruth’s. Thanks Rick Weible for a beauty of a trout, cleaned and refrigerated and I didn’t have to do anything for it. My village is feeling pretty amazing tonight.

Cowboy Rendezvous

Friday I picked up the littles, who I’ll have you know, are growing at the rate of weeds, to attend a cowboy rendezvous. We talked about traders, and goings on and kids games. When we pulled into the fair grounds and went inside, their faces held bewilderment. M where are the tents? Then I realized, they thought we were going to rendezvous!!! Last time at a rendezvous, we had a sleep over in M’s hut. We brought in tomorrow around the fire, and our sleep placement was determined by the order in which we slept. We missed the camp fire, but we had a sleep over and we talked about grandpa a lot. I’m sure he’s pretty proud when we are together and enjoying some part of the world he enjoyed. Tonight we’re hoping he’s getting our ponies and pastures ready and he’ll have waffles and chicken ready for us when we see him next. We talked about the wagon ride we took 5 years ago and how we joked that we hoped baby Maisee didn’t get bounced out or grandpa break his back…little did we know, what was just around the next bend for gramps. We found small pieces of grandpa all day long. Songs, words, chips and ice cream.

Watching young poets that we have enjoyed for years, that John was so happy to rub shoulders with and share stories and smiles with, grow into fine young men, makes me wonder, what “old man” will cross the paths of my littles. Who will inspire them to chase their dreams and conquer their world? Who will make them want to keep hearing these stories? Who will pick them up when they find a bump along the life path? Who will be the village? I spent a few minutes tucking us all into bed and asked about the best part of the day, to hear that everyone enjoyed the day, we all just wish we were folding into bed rolls in the hut tonight with a fire in the box and marshmallows to roast. I can hear grandpa laugh and see him throw his head back as we walked in the house tonight and lined up at the door were boots and neck rags waiting for one more day of being cowboys.

Lessons from the Littles

 

 Things I’ve learned from the littles:

I’m going to have 8 helpers when I’m old

We are going to have a 50 day sleepover

Roughhousing is where it’s at

We are silly quite often

I still fit at the kids table

I made the 15 laugh

Utah Jesus music isn’t like Texas Jesus music

A loaf of bread makes a great meal of pb and j

The trailer is a castle

They love to mess up my hair and tell me I’m beautiful

We need to do family photos in December

We walked the long way to photos

The oldest little, has a sense of humor like grandpa

Movie and popcorn make the heat better

There’s no better way to break in the back seat than haul all the littles

A/C at 75 is cold

A little teasing is to be expected

I don’t really have to wear a skirt for family photos ever again but I will

Our family was recognizable by the girls in dresses and boots at the park

Smashing pumpkins drove us home

It’s an emergency when you’re going 80 mph and from the back seat you hear, “I gotta pee”

The moon roof open was magical

Having room at the fire and a crowded table makes this M heart happy.

Grandpa would love having all of his kids together for the week

A bit of time at the swing and slide make the night fun

Having to explain where grandpa is to the younger kids still makes me tear up

When the photographer calls me “grandma” the littles don’t understand. She’s M! They all inform her.

The Garcia’s took family photos today! I can’t wait to see Sally’s work and have some new photos.

You never now when you'll need a Priest

 When he lays in a hospital bed and begs you to get the Catholic priest, what do you do? I’ll be the first to admit, our religious life knows no bounds. We loved a trip up the canyon to chant with the Monks, a Christmas Eve or bake sale with the Presbyterians, Obon festival with the Buddhists, UCC concerts, Lutheran lunch, Mexican dinner with the Catholics, cub scouts with the Mormons, Cowboy Church, service projects with the Masons, Greek festival with the Greek Orthodox, fundraising with the Shriners. On this day, after staring out this window for six days, he asked me to get the Priest to come pray with him. This shouldn’t be hard right? Well I bundled up and headed to church. What are the chances I walk in the doors and find a clergy person with free time to come pray with someone having a short, and getting shorter by the hour stay next door at a facility? I opened the door and there ready to leave is none other than Father Reuse. I explained my situation, and we had a chuckle about the funeral director needing a Priest for the living and he sang “Amanda” to me for good measure. We went back to the care center, and John Garcia and Father Reuse visited and hopefully prayed, while I talked with the discharge nurse about our next step, transfer home. We were headed out TODAY! The insurance was done paying and we were done staying. I made some quick phone calls and tried to figure how we would get him inside and up the stairs and how he would sleep in a non moveable bed or how I’d get a hospital bed on the weekend because they aren’t emergency equipment and are only delivered Monday-Friday. I remember walking out with Father Reuse looking through tear filled eyes, wondering how. Little did I know.

Black Sun

Tonight from the sanctuary: This book has been on my mind for a few months now. It seems to make a reappearance each summer. The first time I read it I was staying down South at the Casa for the weekend. It was mid March and the temperature was still brisk. I would hot tub in the early morning and read while I soaked and hot tub late at night to finish. In the middle of the day, I’d curl up by the fire with a blanket and read until someone needed a sandwich or wanted to catch lizards or bike in the red rocks. At that age, I thought a fire lookout would be a great profession. Years later, this book would float down the Colorado river in my ammo can waiting to arrive at camp. I’d read by head lamp light and fall asleep in the pages of Mr. Abbey. One year on the gear boat, it was a slow day on the river. I rummaged through my ammo can, found the book, and Miller and I read chapters while floating down river. For a few summers this book lived in the bathroom box and traveled to every rendezvous we camped at. Some nights, after putting guitars away and stoking the fire a bit to much we couldn’t crawl right into bed. John would pull out the book and read to me. Soon I’d be snuggled into wool blankets, dreaming about living in the high mountains watching for fires and waiting for the sight of the air attack plane. Listening to the fire pop in the stove fit right in to Mr. Gatlin’s story. I guess four years ago I read half this book again. Right to the good part where I left my bookmark and put the book back into my book shelf. I don’t really remember much about that read, but today I found evidence of it. I pulled this book out of my bag at the office today and quickly my friends noticed this book has seen some miles. It’s pages are stained, it’s been rained on, splashed on and has tiny bits of sand in the pages. It’s well loved for sure. Tonight after working in the rain all day, smelling the rain masking the scent of smoke, talking about how much I love the smell of fire, even though it’s not the most popular smell, I put on warm sleep socks, burned a candle and pulled a fuzzy blanket out so once again I can read Edward Abbey’s “Black Sun”, a book about the mystery, that is, and the bewildering grief of death.

Girls and Guns

 Overheard at the gun counter:

He says: look at the stock not the colors, you are going for comfort not looks.

She says: hey that’s how I pick out my guys to, comfort not so much looks.

He says: oh you have a look.

The guy behind the counter: Is puzzled by the conversation

He walks away to shop for a tote goat.

She says: can I see your two top small hand hand guns?

Guy behind the counter walks over to the bearded man.

She: waits patiently

He comes back: Did you get a .380 or 9?

She says: I’m waiting to touch the guns

Guy behind the counter: walks back over to us, is there something you’d like to look at?

He says: you’ll have to ask her

Guy behind the counter looks at the girl

She says: can I see your two top small hand hand guns?

Guy behind the counter pulls out a selection of hand guns.

She fondles all the guns and picks the one that fits best in her hand.

She says: I like this one.

He: walks away to the ammo

She says: can I see the .380

Guy behind the counter: yeah, but if you like that one, you won’t like it. He gets out the gun.

She: holds both. Puts back the .380.

He comes back with hollow points.

He says: this is for the boyfriend that goes wrong.

Guy behind the counter looks at him, looks at her. He isn't sure what to think.

He walks away.

She says: I’ll take that and some target shots as well.

Guy behind the counter: is your husband serious?

She says: that’s my brother. And yea he’s pretty serious.

Guy behind the counter: you have expensive taste. I’ve never sold the top line gun just based on how it feels. And most people won’t say they’d shoot their boyfriend.

She says: well, if the boyfriend turns out to be bad, I want to feel comfortable holding the gun. And don’t worry, I don’t have a boyfriend.

Guy behind the counter: so wait, you’re really single and this is for protection?

She says: I am single and this is for fun. And just in case I need protection, I have it.

Guy behind the counter: is there anything else you need?

She says: do you sell boyfriends?

Guy behind the counter: not that would approve of that purchase by a girl.

Maybe 2022 is going to be our year?!?!?!?

The last time I thought that I would pick up on this blog and write more, I learned that my emotions were too raw and re reading posts that John and I did together hurt.  It's been four years of change.  Four years of growth.  Four years of redefining who I am.  Four years of looking back at who we are.  Four years of making a new plan of what we are.  How the both of us will move forward.  How we will form new relationships.  It's hard to grieve and be part of life.  It's a huge balancing act.  There is this moment of redefining everything that you are.  If I could have woven a new skin and taken up residency in it I would have. So, I turned to writing.  Writing a lot. 

Writing left unpublished is  wasted in my eyes.  So, Monday, after a wind of change blew through,   I picked up this blog.  I read every post.  I cried tears of happy, sad, anger, joy, love.  I looked back at what a fun time we had taking photos of things that could become part of the blog.  It was a great act.  There are a few times where I would start the story and he would finish it.  I'll miss those posts.  

           I feel that 2022 and "twodogsintheyard" will be a new rebirth.  Maybe I'll need a new black and            white for the yard.  Right now there is only a Cash dog, but wait, there are two cats...So, two                   cats and a dog in the yard...Now all I'm short is the white picket fence...and a few other things.

           So, if you are still here through this, you are probably related to me.  Not that I mind.  I like that            people enjoy reading.  Here's to 2022 being a photo/blog op.  You'll have to ride the ups and the            downs of life.  You'll see the happy and the sad.  Hopefully the funny and the silly.  Most of all,               I'll have something to fill my evenings with and I will stop looking into going back to school yet             again.  However, this week my obituary (or horoscope for most of you) says if I want to change            my occupation, now is the time to grow those roots and do it!!  If I weren't Mandy the Mystical               Mortician, who would I be?