Work makes us strong!

Not much creative blogging lately...busy working in the office, with numbers and cost basis...

(photo credit:  Sister-by-marriage Jen)
I think we may need to start being more consistently photographed together, on purpose!  She caught us smiling and legs entwined!  Look how skinny-good Johnny looks!    We are trying to be healthier (this time changing what we are eating, not just walking together), working now so we can be in shape for a mission in...20 years!  It will be that long before we can retire. 

I've been working 40 hour weeks for the past few months as an on-call fill-in, but turned down two of the full-time offers after praying hard about it.  I feel I need to stay flexible to be able to help my children, be here after school when they come home, concentrate on making our home a house of order, and living within our means and being thrifty.  The answer to my prayers was pretty specific, how I need to be satisfied with what we have, not over-extend my dreams and wishful-remodeling hopes, but make the best of what we have been blessed with NOW and trust that things will work out. 

In 5 years when Roxie graduates from high school, things may change again, and given the same offer in the future I may take it eagerly.  But not yet.  I will trust that timing matters.  Plus, a huge part of working full-time would leave me zero time to paint for clients, or be creative at home.  It has been hard, really hard, and my heart reaches out to moms who already really have to work all day/night outside the home.

My boss says if you want to be rich do 5 things: 
1.  buy a home you can afford and pay it off and live there
2.  get married and stay married 
3.  find a job with upward mobility and keep working 
4. clean living (healthier, less dr bills plus not paying for vices $$$)
5.  invest and spend less than you make. 

Easy, right?

I finally opened an account, a ROTH IRA and bought my first stock.  Just one share.  Our income is pretty tied up in bills and children and student loans...not much wiggle room to invest.  Very exciting to be on the client side.  I should have done it a long time ago to see what it is like and to be able to explain things better to clients.

Work to stay married, work to be healthy, work to pay bills, work to support families, work to create art---still something I feel I need to do.  I could see it clearly:  if at the end of my life I had made lots of $ and we had gotten out of debt faster & fixed the house up sooner & travelled OR if at the end of my life I knew my children, had been available time-wise/face-time and had painted what I still need to paint and had the time for service and making a home---easy choice.

So my re-commitment is to be a homemaker, stay-at-home mom/wife/friend in 2014.  I still have a few commitments for work on the calendar through December, but tapering off.  Keeping my on-call status in good standing with 100 hours a year, but only every-other-week 6 hours during school time.

T-shirt Dress Debut

Our church building water/septic system was compromised, so only one short meeting Sunday.  Knowing it wouldn't be the usual 3 hours, I wore my color-blocked t-shirt dress. Ridiculously comfortable.  Bright.   Fits me better than when I made it at the beginning of the summer.  John has lost 20 lbs since we started serious no-carb diet, me half that and working hard for it.  We want to be healthier, in-shape, better able to serve, go on a mission together.  That's one of our goals. 

Sweet Max Memories

 

All of these photos were taken at least 3 years ago.

As Daddy Warbucks in "Annie"

Thursday at work a peer from another office delivered a file.  I could tell something was wrong, she was teary-eyed, and when I asked, she said she had just come from the courthouse.  No details, but her son may have to go to prison, and she was heartbroken.  With my hug and sympathetic heart the words that came out of my mouth:  "At least they will feed him there.  You will know where he is, that he is safe, and that they are feeding him.  It is no reflection on you or your husband, he is there because of his choices.  Be hopeful, it can get better."  Her reaction:  "Oh, you are going through the same thing?"

Sort of.  Different detention situation.  But it is a relief when I know Max is somewhere safe, looked after, fed.  Dealing with mental illness in the family is hard enough, but throw in recreational drugs  and it gets worse.

Our Friday night date was visiting Max.  Simple routine of parking in our favorite parking spot, walking in holding hands, up the hospital elevator to the psych ward.  Leave cell phones in car so we don't have to lock anything in lockers before we go in.  Sign in.  Remember his pass code number to prove he wants to visit with us.  Wait to be escorted through two locked doors.  Smile at the big-muscle-bulky guards who recognize us from past visits.  Sit at a sticky table in the commons area and wait for the staff to bring him out.  Try not to look at other patients and their visitors and wonder what their crazy stories are bringing them together. 

We have an hour to share uplifting family events.  I told Max about my latest dry needling physical therapy story (nearly fainted this time, 6 hours since lunch and the 7 needles went in further and were a little more graphic-gross, tenting my skin as they were pulled out), the burden lesson I gave in seminary that morning (passing out to the students a life-burden:  earthquake destroys your home, you have terminal cancer, you are a victim of gossip, someone in your family is an addict, etc and had them group them into one of three categories 1) consequence of living in the world 2) someone else's bad actions 3) your own bad choices) and relate it all to how Nephi reacts to his brothers' bad choices.  

He laughed, and there were moments of real Max, intelligence, memory.  I invited him to come back to us, to remember what good family memories and the traditions and fun things we have done together, to be hopeful about his future and find things again that he enjoys doing that are safe and good.

John told him the reality that his roommates don't want him to come back to the house he has been staying at.  Burned bridges.  Looking for a re-hab situation somewhere affordable for him.  "Delusional" is a trigger word we have to avoid using.  Religious symbols tricky.  Quoting films and video games and his mixed up questions like "How did God create the universe?" and weirdness when he worries about the end of the world and how bad death hurts.

I bore my testimony that families matter, that he matters to us, that we won't give up on him.

Big hugs and "I love you's" and kisses at the end of saying good-bye.   Each time when I leave I reach out my hand and Max holds it as I walk away and he mouths "I love you" and my heart breaks again.  I am leaving him somewhere safe.  Were they will feed him.  And make sure he gets the doctor ordered medicine (Drugs are bad.  Medicine is good.  Words matter.).

There is a misconception that there are real parents with perfect kids.  Somewhere.  Maybe in Utah (thank you, "Raising Arizona" best ending lines of a film, ever!).  We parents all have something we are dealing with, some burden, some reason our hair is turning (quickly) white.  Mortality is brutal.  Experience is dangerous.  Learning is hard.

Interesting that so much of the joy we feel is associated with our bodies.  Good food, good sleep, good sex, good activities-adventures, good art (hearing, seeing).  Physical sensations and pleasures and experiences.  Having children--the creating of them and the watching them grow and learn and become independent--lots of joy there. 

Really & truly.

Needles

Appropriate title for a quilter's post, right? 

I have been in physical therapy for months, right arm, epicondrus-or something, showing off my horrible spelling skills.  Tennis elbow.  Painful to lift anything heavy.  Not allowed to push or pull or twist off lids, etc.  Getting better, sort of, but still painful and last week super-inflamed again, tight muscles, very bad.  I got a cortisone shot, and no real improvement after a week.  So we moved on to "Dry Needling"

Mostly couldn't feel the tiny needles going in.  Less noticeable than a mosquito bite.  But then after 4 minutes he TWISTED them.  3 out of the 5 were barely noticeable, twinges, a tightening, but two were like being shocked and he only turned one of the painful horrible ones a quarter turn before I yelled out to stop.  Afterwards I got an arm massage and then moist heat for 10 minutes and felt super relaxed, almost sleepy, mighty fine.  Typing right now is ok, but they warned me I could be more sore tomorrow.  And typically 3-5 sessions of needling.

Of course I asked if I could take the needles home to make jewelry/art.  They looked like earring findings, perfect wirey interesting tops (acupuncture needles).  When I can use my right arm again to create I will take a photo!

The funniest thing:  once they were in, you could flick them and watch the needles wave and bounce around, no pain.  I just couldn't move my arm.  No blood.  Really cool if it works...status report later.

Did you know: (Quilt-Like Art)

This painting/collage intrigued me, hanging upstairs in BYU's Art Museum, famous pop-artist  Jann Haworth, who according to Wikipedia "... won a fellowship in 1997 to study American quilt-making. She returned to the United States and took up residence in Sundance, Utah,"

 

How did I miss her SLC Pepper's Lonely Heart Club Band mural in downtown SLC?   Next trip, a MUST see!

Permanent Sharpie Tie Dye, No tying

Last night my niece came over and we did some projects!  Try this Sharpie pen on t-shirt coloring, then drop rubbing alcohol to make colors spread wonderfully!  Less mess than Rit Dyes...super fun.  This is Roxie's shirt!

This is the back side of mine, where it bled through to the back (I colored on the front)

One of my favorites

 

My front porch chalkboard:   Moroni 10:32 is the new LDS youth theme for 2014.

 

 

This painting of Minerva Teichert's is probably my favorite.