Saturday, October 20, 2012

You don't understand what I'm up against. This is a force more powerful than anything you can imagine. Even *Superman* would be helpless against this kind of stench.

I used to be a perfume freak.  I remember the first perfume I got was Love's Baby Soft from my Aunt Mary.  She gave it to me at the Platte Christmas Party and I put some on in the car on the way home.  I put a lot on. My mom had to open the window.

Since the first gift of perfume, I've always loved perfumes.  The smells of them remind me of different occasions. I can't smell Eternity without thinking about standing in the bus line in 8th grade with Sandy Jackson.  I can't smell Beautiful without thinking of my stinky apartment in Provo.  Champs Elysees makes me think of my wedding day.  Perfume is so pretty.  And cologne.  I love cologne.  Doesn't Drakkar take you back to high school boys?  And Escape makes me think of Chris on our wedding day.

But something happened to my nose during my last pregnancy.  I couldn't stand perfume or cologne or any strong smell be it good or bad.  No air freshener.  No strong chemicals.  No candles.  Nothing.  The only smell that didn't bother me was citrus.   I thought it was just a pregnancy thing.  I figured that after Teddy arrived that my nose would go back to normal.  

It didn't.

The problem is more that just "I don't like it."  It literally makes my nose hurt to smell a strong smell.  Chris can no longer wear cologne.  When someone sprays strong chemicals to clean toilets or the kitchen, I have to leave the room.  If I hug someone wearing perfume, my nose hurts.  Yesterday, Chris sprayed cologne in our room while I wasn't there.  When I got back to the room, I had to open all the windows and clear out the smell before I could be in there.  He sprayed our vacuum bag with cologne.  I can't be in the room when he vacuums.  It's so stinky!

I don't know if my nose is broken or what.  But it's really sad.

Thursday, October 18, 2012

Just the fact that you remembered means everything.

Lizzie's 4th birthday was earlier this month.  We had her party on Saturday and it was our traditional "Lizzie's Birthday Oktoberfest."  I wish I would have taken pictures of the food because it was pretty and yummy.  We had rouladen, altbier chicken, a whole mess of wursts, German potato salad, gurkensalat, potato pancakes and spaetzel.  This year I did not make a  Kirschtorte because last year's was a little too Kirsch-y and I didn't want anyone getting drunk on the birthday cake.  Lizzie had lots of friends and family to celebrate with her.  She had fun opening her presents and eating cake.  I love Oktoberfest.  I hope Lizzie always wants to have it.

Monday, October 15, 2012

Yeah, and when I see freaks in the street, I never ever stare at them, and yet I'm careful not to look away, see, because I want to make the freaks feel comfortable.

I'm a freak about the Relief Society clipboard.

It started in the University Ward in East Lansing.  We didn't have a clipboard in my BYU ward, so my first introduction to it was at MSU.  The RS president held it up as she talked about announcements and showed us what fun classes we could sign up for or how we could sign up to have the missionaries over or take a meal to someone who had a baby.  Then she'd had it to usually the sister on the farthest left or right on the front row.  And it would go from sister to sister until it reached every sister or time ran out.  This clipboard has been a staple of every Relief Society I've been in from MSU to Toledo to Plymouth.  And I've always been a freak about it.

I watch the clipboard going from sister to sister.  I worry that the date I want for the missionaries will be taken.  I worry that  all the slots for the class I want to take will be filled.  I worry that I won't get to sign up for a meal for that good friend.  Most of all, I worry that the clipboard won't make it to me.  When it gets to the end of a row, some people don't know which way to send it.  They look at each other with puzzled looks and finally send it on it's way.  I want to run over and be the clipboard traffic director and make sure it goes the right way.

So now you know, I'm a freak.

Tuesday, October 9, 2012

After the song, babe.

It's funny how when I hear a song on the radio, it will bring back such a clear memory for me.  This morning on the way home from driving the carpool, I heard the song, "I Won't Back Down." by Tom Petty.  I love this song.  Love Tom Petty.  It took me back to my senior year in high school.  We had to participate in a yearly retreat each year of high school.  It was a requirement for religion class.  Senior year, I went on KAIROS.  I can't tell you exactly what happened there, but it was one of the best experiences of my life.  I spent four days with peers and teachers learning about myself and my relationship to God, my family and other people.  I really grew a lot those four days.  I wish there was a KAIROS for adults.  It would be really cool and I would totally pay to go.

Part of KAIROS involved music.  Songs were played that had meaning for speakers and most of them were very touching in one way or another.  They weren't necessarily religious songs.  They were rock songs, songs from musicals, just songs with meanings.  I left KAIROS with an awesome mix tape.  Wish I still had it.  The speaker would play the song and also give you a sheet of inspiring quotes to read.  I still have all mine in my KAIROS folder.  

So I left KAIROS feeling very inspired and closer to God and family and friends than I ever had.  Maybe this is what EFY feels like?  Anyway, in Young Women, we used to have a devotional every Sunday.  One YW would give a quote or tell a story in front of the group that was inspiring in some way.  So the first time I have devotional after KAIROS, I decide to make a quote sheet and share a song that had some meaning for me.  So I played "I Won't Back Down." by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers.  I'm sure that makes some of you and probably made my YW leaders at the time squirm in your/their seats.  Rock songs are hardly appropriate for Sunday YW opening exercises, saith the letter of the law.  They endured and let me play it.

This song had a meaning that I wanted to share with the girls and I couldn't find a better way than through it.  I wanted them to know that we have to stand our ground in this world.  We have to live our standards and not back down.  I wanted them to know that they could go to the gates of hell and I would still be there loving them.  I was only 18 but I really thought I was inspired to share the song.  But you know, I'm a spirit of the law kind of person.

Every time I hear this song I'm reminded to stand my ground.  Even when the world is pushing me around and telling me that what I'm doing isn't important or that my standards need to be relaxed or that it's ok to break commandments.  I'm going to stand my ground. And I won't back down.

Tuesday, October 2, 2012

You know where I got this? I found it in the garbage can. It kept terrible time. I brought it over to Jimmy Sherman right here on 85th and Columbus. Gave it to me back the next day. Works great. What kind of idiot throws away a perfectly good watch?

Did you own a Swatch in the 80's?  In 1986, I was DYING to own a Swatch.  Everyone in my school had a Swatch.  EVERYONE.  I didn't own one.  There was no prospect of me getting one.  I seem to remember they cost $35.  My parents wouldn't have spent $35 on a watch for me ever.  Not only wouldn't they, but they couldn't have.  We were poor.  I wouldn't have ever even asked for a Swatch.  But, man, did I want one sooooo badly.

This is the Swatch that I really wanted.  It had the 9,6 and 3 really big.  And the Swatch protector.  So cool!

Being poor would have been ok if I didn't go to school with an entire student body that had money.  I went to private school on an academic and need-based scholarship.  I envied everything those other kids had.  Especially their Swatch's.  So one night, my mom and I are out shopping for Christmas and I discovered that you could buy just the Swatch protector.

The Swatch Guard.  I started thinking.  Could I put the Swatch Guard on my current watch and pretend I had a Swatch?  Would the other kids at school be fooled into believing I was cool?  I was willing to give it a try.  Please don't laugh when I show you the watch I was putting the guard on.

It wasn't this exact watch, but it was close.  So I put the guard on my Timex and thought I was the shiz.  And I went to school the next day.  I was pretty sure I was so cool.

A mean kid named Mike Kotnik, let me know how cool I was not.  He noticed my Swatch Guard on my very uncool Timex.  He grabbed my wrist and showed another boy in the class.  "She thinks she can put this on her watch and make it a Swatch!"  They both laughed.  They told other people.  I was humiliated.

I ripped the guard off my lame Timex and threw it away.  I remember how mad and embarrassed and stupid I felt.  I've never forgotten that day.

I never did get a Swatch.  My mom actually got one from my dad when she was dying.  She had a hard time seeing and she couldn't read her watch so he went to the store looking for a watch with really big numbers.  It was a Swatch he bought for her.  He had no idea how cool it was.  He just wanted a watch for his dying wife and he would have probably paid 8x the amount if he found one that worked for her.  After she died, I tried wearing her Swatch but I couldn't.  I still have it in a box.

When I met Chris, one time I was looking through a drawer in his room.  No lie, this is what it looked like.

That boy had the Swatch's.  He used to let me wear them.  I was in heaven.  I have no idea where they are now but we should find them because I would look cool wearing a vintage Swatch.

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