this is what i missed in relief society at my ward today, as recounted by melody’s daughter, sara

during the “good news” minute, one of the grandmothers in the neighborhood reported on having seen my son k~’s friend talon in the production of tarzan at tuacahn. talon is a quite talented actor, already at the tender age of 11, having performed at tuacahn, the shakespearean festival and a number of local productions; he’s about to head out as michael banks in the broadway tour of mary poppins. you’ve probably even seen him on tv.

a member of our relief society presidency-you may or may not know her, but i won’t mention any names–piped in, “we saw talon too, and he was great. i don’t know if it’s appropriate to say in this in relief society, but the older tarzan is not hard to watch, either.”

apparently the older sister concurred and um, may have even elaborated in some detail as to why grown-up tarzan was so easy on the eyes.

did i mention the bishop was attending relief society on this day?

after good news, my favorite relief society chorister ever stood up to do the “musical moment.” as she has done on occasion in the past, laura began her segment by recognizing a couple of women who were sporting really fabulous shoes. she invited them to stand and take a turn down the aisle. (now, you know i am a birkenstock girl. but i do appreciate a great pair of shoes. this is one of my favorite parts of our “musical moments.”)

laura then noticed the to-die-for pink heels sara was wearing. she invited sara to stand and take a walk, which sara obligingly did.

“wow!” laura said, “those would make tarzan beg for mercy!”

did i mention the bishop was attending relief society on this day?

11:04 p.m.

i’m sitting here in my pjs after another long day in another long week in another long month in this crazybusy year.

my eyelids are heavy but i’m fighting to keep them open as it’s the first chance i’ve had to check my e-mail and google reader today.

knock knock.

hmmm. that’s odd. although it’s probably the best time to catch me home, not too many of my friends drop by after 11 p.m.

it’s the grandaughter of our neighbor across the street, cecily. we’ve known her since she’s was little, but she’s all grown up and married now.

“we were out for a walk and somebody hit your cat.”

“which one?” (zack will be devastated over any of them, but my first concern is for mowgli, who has a piece of my heart and a big chunk of last month’s paycheck.)

“the yellow one.”

i sigh. “tigger.”

suze and tigger summer 2009

i send shane out to look because i know i just can’t bear to watch if tigger is suffering. then i remember to ask

“is he dead?”

cecily nods her head sadly.

as i bury the tears of my youngest in my chest cecily explains,

“the same thing happened to my cat when i was 12.”

i stroke my youngest’s back and nod my head.

i am sad at tigger’s brutally abrupt end and guilty that the last time i saw him i tossed him out of the house (they really do land on all fours) three times in a row after he kept sneaking in. i wonder how zack and suze will take the news–it’s too soon. i feel a twinge of guilt over the twinge of relief i feel knowing that’s one less cat to feed, neuter, immunize.

“he had a good life here,” i search for some scrap of comfort to share with k~ “he got to go and do whatever he wanted.”

we go in the house and while i wait for shane to return i ponder over which flower bed will make the best gravesite for this one.

i hear the door open and some scuffling, but there are no words and no shane. i wait and wonder and then look up as shane walks up the stairs with a very lively cat in his arms.

tigger!

i scratch his belly and apologize out loud for not being entirely patient with his antics of the other day, at the same time hefting again the weight of the responsibility we’ve inherited along with these cats.

apparently it was someone else’s yellow cat who met his demise tonight. (may it rest in peace.)

shane sends tigger back outside to work on–i’m not sure, do you count up from 1 or down from 9?–well, the next one.

i’m posting on parenting over at segullah today. please come.

wherein i tell you…

i got my first e-mail today.

it was short and sweet and i loved every word.

i also loved that he had his first fish and chips.

and they were real chips.

yeah baby.

************

and also the daughter got her learner’s permit.

i actually let her drive my sienna.

you all know how i feel about my sienna.

i hope my daughter knows howloudlyitscreams I LOVE YOU! when i let her drive the swagger wagon.

************

and right now i’m looking at flight plans.

from manchester, england to slc.

august 19.

yeah baby!

two of my children had birthdays this month.

other than a birthday cake and song for k~ at the meeting formerly known as a farewell and a cupcake from the sweet tooth fairy for suze, we still haven’t celebrated.

this one was away at 5th grade camp on the day he turned 11

this one (left) was still recovering from the airport scene (we’re all still recovering from the airport scene, but trust me when i tell you i spared you the most heart-wrenching of the photos) and was with us at a family reunion in the uintahs on the day she turned 15

this week my mother is having hip replacement surgery. on the very same day i am also helping host a baby shower, to be held in my backyard. at the exact same time (i was informed this afternoon), i am supposed to be attending a training meeting of sorts for my new calling.

in my spare time this week i’ll preparing to present as part of the blogging panel at the first ever segullah writing retreat.

and waiting by the mailbox for letters from zack (posting them here), who, if i remember correctly, will have to use snail mail instead of e-mail until he leaves the mtc for the leeds mission. (i want a physical address that contains the words “lister hill,” i’m just sayin.’)

and looking forward to hearing about the reunion of the two elders rowley.

i’ll try to keep you posted.

zack playing the cajon or “big box” and the tambourine

i glance at the silent drum pad resting on the chaise and unwanted tears well up. it’s going to be quiet for a very long time.

i still remember when one summer, as a short 7th-grade boy, zack emphatically stated, “i’m going to learn to play the sax.” we bought a beat-up used alto sax from a friend and before i could sign him up for summer band he’d learned his first song.

before the summer was out he made jazz band.

the instruments he’s taught himself to play and the bands he’s played in since are too numerous to name. but he picked up one of my favorites as a junior in high school when he tried out for the high school drumline. i wondered how on earth he was going to practice drums at home, but he soon borrowed my credit card (of all my children, he is also the most familiar with my credit card, but he usually pays me back) to purchase a drum pad and some sticks.

soon our home was filled with the rat-a-tat-tat of incessant drumbeats. even better–i spent countless road trips feeling to my core the pulse of percussion he tapped out as he beat the sticks in time on the back of my seat in the car.

most of you who read my blog know what happened from there. you also know i became the ultimate band mom, attending almost every performance and chaperoning every tour. never tiring of watching and hearing him play–whatever instrument, in whatever band.

zack playing cymbals as part of the byu drumline

zack giving up the music he loves for two years to go forth and serve his God and the people of england.

the quiet he will leave behind will be deafening.

***********

i still remember when one year, as a bright and curious 8th grader, zack excitedly reported to me that his science teacher had invited a guest to class that day. some sort of an expert in animals, i believe. the scientist thought it would be interesting to quiz the kids on various species and had brought some change to reward right answers with a quarter.

zack took him to the cleaners.

ever observant and appreciative of nature, zack can spot an interesting bird–osprey, bald eagle, whatever–from anywhere.

as i watch zack prepare to leave the nest i try to avoid contemplating the ache in my mother heart that the consequent empty space will bring. from the time a few summers back he left us to go work at fish lake to last summer when he left us several times to help run trips on the snake river, zack’s solo flights have always been longer and further than those of any of the others. his eyes seem eager to search for further horizons without looking back. his wings seem to feel the need to stretch further as well. i admit that our respective wings have bumped a bit lately, as he seems to have outgrown the nest and expresses a longing to fly.

zack would likely tell me i’m reading too much into what simply is. he may be right about that. or maybe not.

he will be deeply missed all the same.

it’s started already.

a couple of weeks ago a widowed sister in my ward stopped me in the hall at church.

“i’d like to buy a suit for your son for his mission.”

she wasn’t the first.

another widow–this one whose husband has been gone since before i was born–purchased a raincoat for luke before he left on his mission. luke had been her home teacher.

she pressed a check of equal value into zack’s grateful hands well over a month ago.

while we do live in what may seem to be your average–as far as incomes go–but aging middle-class neighborhood, we continue to be stunned and enormously grateful for the extraordinary generosity extended to us by our friends and neighbors. widows, widowers, a couple of small business owners, educators, contractors, only one attorney and maybe a couple of accountants. everyday people reaching into their not-so-deep pockets to help us outfit and send off another missionary.

just now i responded to a knock on the door. a retired gentleman greeted me. we are not well acquainted, but there he stood, extending an envelope with zack’s name written across it. i know what’s in it without even opening it. there will be more of the same next week after zack speaks in church just days before flying to the mtc in preston. i say this not because it is an expectation, but simply because it’s what the people around here do. they–even those who are currently supporting their own missionaries–do the same for all of the missionaries.

my good friend lil just came to the door to get some fresh eggs. we visited for a few minutes. lil and her husband, phil, though barely returned from serving as missionaries in New Orleans, currently serve what is almost a full-time mission in another area of town.

lil pressed a check into my hand.

“we’re sorry we can’t be there next week. will you please give this to zack?”

setting up transition in the rain (left of, but not under the umbrella).

rounding the bend with my new friend melanie.

my friend, training partner and inspiration, ~j.

my loyal friend and sister-from-another-mother melody, who ran in with me at the very end. on heels, no less.

my loyal family who cheered me on. k~ walked the first mile and some of the final “run” with me.

this is me.

at my first *triathlon.

it kicked my trash.

but i finished.

and avoided coming in dead last…

by a mere .004 seconds.

and a bunch of people who registered but didn’t show.

and a handful of people who started, but didn’t finish.

one woman’s sprint is another woman’s endurance race…

2:35:009

(*technically it ended up being a dualthon last minute, as it was so cold and wet this morning the race administrators were worried about hypothermia and revised the race at the last minute. it ended up run, bike, run; instead of swim, bike, run. that was a disadvantage to me, as the “run” isn’t my best event. but such is life. and, frankly, hypothermia could have been a worse disadvantage.)

woke up this morning and went to gym class.

happy face.

came home to find suze still here, still not feeling well.

sad face.

wasted an hour on the phone with verizon who, once again has found a way to rip me off. thanked the nice cs lady who was as helpful as she could be then escalated the call to a supervisor who was patronizing and rude and only credited me $10 of the $50 they have ripped me off.

sad face.

which meant youngest was late for school.

sad face.

and i was late for work.

sad face.

as i sat in my cubicle i realized something was wrong. very wrong. there was a bad smell. a very bad smell. my shirt was fine. my pants were fine. and i started to suspect that my unmentionables, which had been in the clean pile in the laundry room, were suspect.

suze texted me to tell me that mowgli had been in the laundry room and mistaken the clean laundry for the litter box.

stinky face.

as i debated what to do, youngest calls me from school to tell me his class would be celebrating his summer birthday that very day and he needed treats for 40 (thank you utah legislature for your flaccid support of education and reduced-class sizes) before work would be over.

sad face.

i realized i could no longer be a smelly cat mom and an a-list quality assurance supervisor at the same time so i checked out.

sad face.

i went home and made an appointment for the cat to be neutered, sorted the laundry that needed to be redone, did the first batch of laundry, a batch of dishes, and the second batch of laundry…

happy face.

and then i realized my year-old top loading he washing machine was flashing an error code.

sad face.

i called whirlpool customer service and found someone to help me troubleshoot. she’d never heard of the error code my washer was flashing.

sad face.

we tried to troubleshoot anyway…

and the phone died.

sad face.

fortunately i had registered my product and she called me back. we worked on it some more. i thought we fixed it…

but it’s really dead.

sad face.

i looked at the calendar, hoping to see friday and sure it must be the 13th.

but there was no excuse for this day.

dear subway:

pepperoni will never be the new bacon. never ever.

***********

dear hostess:

what were you thinking?

***********

dear people who think senator bennett is too liberal:

what, are you crazy?

***********

dear people who lump all utahns in with the extremist delegates who voted at convention:

what, are you crazy?

***********

dear aarp,

thank you for mailing my husband a membership card. but retiring at 50? i. don’t. think. so.

***********

dear arizona,

thanks for making utah look good. but not really.

p.s. i was already boycotting you. you’re too hot. plus i’m still not over that awful night in tucson back in ’07.

***********

dear newbie boycotters of arizona,

ariZona beverage co. is out of new york. have you met google?

***********

dear meteorologists:

i actually love it when mother nature mixes it up a little. or even a lot. but your “forecasting” this spring has had all the credibility of oprah.

i’m just sayin.’