"Who are You" Poem

Who are You? (January 31, 2014 by A.E. Bell) I search the records tirelessly, I just know you belong to my family. Thousands of names, but you’re not here, And yet, I feel you so very near. Who are you? What did you do? Where did you go? I have a need to know. The veil shrouds my memories, There’s something beyond what I can seize. It feels like reminiscence of old dreams, Something out of focus and more than it seems. So who are you? What more can I do? I search and listen and pray, Tell me, is there another way? I’ll never give up, rest or quit, For hours I search without a hit. Finally, I see your name! Finally, someone that I claim! My heart pounds with love! I feel a smile from above. I wipe away a single tear, Tonight, the veil is very sheer. Who are you? Who could you be? Now I see, You are the completion of me.

Tidbits to other Parents #2

I was talking with a group of young mothers and I could not hold back sharing with them something I felt could be helpful. So I thought I'd write a bit of it up here, for what it's worth. You might consider, with your spouse if you have one if not with a trusted friend or family member, discussing how you will respond to certain situations with your children. How will you respond if you have a child come to you and tell you they are gay? How will you respond if you have a child come and say he doesn’t believe in God or resents you for shoving religion down their throats? How will you respond if you have a child come to you with an addiction whether it be, drugs, porn, gaming,sex,codependency, food etc. How will you respond if you have a child come and say they aren’t worthy to serve a mission or that they are pregnant? How will you respond if the child does not come to you but you find out in other ways that something is going on? How will you respond if your child or children rebel against everything you have felt so dear or strongly about? I suggest you take every fear you might have regarding a child and face it, talk about it, discuss how you will react initially and how you will love your children unconditionally and accept them without accepting the behavior. That’s what I would advise. Because I guarantee, you WILL face something, sometime and your initial reaction is pivitol in retaining a relationship in order to help your children through their hardships. Love IS the answer. Maybe sometime I will share how we have or have decided to react and handle certain situations, but for now.., LOVE.

Tidbits to other parents #1

February 14, 2014 Ah yes, you must not faint, it has been too long since I have written here although believe me the silly thoughts have never ceased. But tonight the thoughts aren't so much on the silly side as they are on the serious. Are you a parent? As a parent have you ever had that moment where you sat back, looked at your spouse and asked, “Do you think we’re up for this? Are we really capable of bringing up these incredibly spirited, courageous, precious children without ruining them or losing them?" Sometimes it feels that the whole of Hell is raging at our door trying to suck them away from us. But, at the same moment I am fighting off desperation and tears are falling, I am filled with a simple thought that renews faith and hope. He would not have sent them to us if He didn't believe that we could handle it. Not to say that we won’t make mistakes but if we stay close to Him we won’t make any mistakes that will result in the loss of a child.And if HE believes in me, than I should too. There is hope. So, I was asked the other day by another mother if I could give any advice to young mothers what would the most important advice be? What would I tell them to prioritize and focus on. Let me remind you that I am still in the middle of raising my children ages 6 years to 15 years and have a a lot to learn still but I did not hesitate for a moment, I answered, “Make sure they know that you love them unconditionally. If they know this they will trust you when they screw up. You have to start when they are little building that kind of relationship. How do you react when they spill the milk on accident (it was a mistake)? How do you react when they spill the milk because they didn’t stop fooling around when you told them too (They were disobedient )? How do you react when they spill the milk on purpose (Open rebellion)? Yes, start now to pray to be able to love them unconditionally. I don’t think that kind of love automatically comes for all parents. Sometimes it takes work. I pray every morning to be able to see each of my children the way God sees them, because if I do I will never mistreat them. If finding out what their primary Love Language is in order to love them wholly is the key, then make it a priority. Make sure they know you love them and won’t stop when they screw up. Make sure they know God loves them and won’t stop when they screw up. Unconditional Love is Pivotal!

Respite in writing (November 4, 2011)

November 4, 2011 Friday It feels good to write. How I have had something missing in my heart since I have been absent at my place before words. When I am able to express myself in words on paper I feel fulfilled. It fills something missing. It completes me it helps me to focus. I feel refreshed and renewed and I feel heard. May not be heard right now, right this second, but when it counts, when it matters, when I will affect someone’s life when they read my words, then, I will be heard. It is fascinating to me that writing affects me so much. Even jotting a simple something down, or recording a thought in my journal or writing something like this, helps me. Why does it affect me so? That’s a question for another day. There are children to be taught, laundry to be washed, a house to clean, tears to be shed and laughter to be heard. I better close my respite.

Adorable! Watermelons (September 2011)

And then of course we have Sarah, my five year old, so excited to eat our home grown watermelon. Her eager shiny eyes dancing with delight as I position the knife over the green dome of deliciousness. I slice and hand her a piece. Her fallen face and almost instant tears to the eyes catch my undivided attention. “What is wrong?” I ask. A sniffle and explanation through pouty lips, “I can’t eat this, it has seeds in it!” Ahhh, the spoiled children of our day. I laughingly explain that most watermelons do and they are even more fun to eat because you get to spit the seeds. We then spend many happy minutes practicing our seed spitting off the porch. She is quite talented!

Just a day in my life... (September 20, 2011)

September 20, 2011 So, it is not uncommon in my house to walk into the kitchen, as I did just a couple days ago, and find toast in the toaster. However, before you nod off to sleep, this story may be a bit different than your house because everyone had left for school and breakfast had been over for some hours. Yes, toast, cold and lonely left in the toaster. The other night I walked out and found toothbrush in the hall on the floor. It had just been used and tossed carelessly, no doubt, during a wrestling match that included toothpaste, water and little boy bodies. We won’t even begin to talk about what comes through the washer and dryer, but in all fairness I must record the white dough ball that came through. I smelled it and it smelled like wet dough…no doubt it had been a tortilla that was put into a pocket for a secret snack later…and then forgotten! Then I find we have about 9 half eaten forgotten apples weeping on the counter…..made fresh applesauce… Lemons into lemonade right?

Hens (July 27, 2011)

July 27, 2011 Have you ever seen a real live hen with her chick? It brings new meaning to that scripture “as a hen gathereth her chicks” or something like that. I thoroughly love watching our hen with her one chick. How she protects it and truly gathers it under her wing. I have stood in the pen for minutes upon minutes just watching the tiny fluff ball jet around and through the other chicks always to return quickly its mother for protection, or just to be near her. It reminds me of when my children call out for me, just to know where I am, not because they need anything, they just want to know I am close. I am curious to see whether it will be a rooster or hen 

Sweet (April 8, 2010)

April 8, 2010 So I have been sick lately (an unfair trial that should mother’s should be exempt from). I am feeling much better but as I was laying Sarah down for her nap on my bed I curled up next to her and told her I was going to rest for a little while (I was hoping she would go to sleep as well as to prevent damage to my room). She was more than thrilled and immediately laid down facing me. I closed my eyes and relaxed but after about a 30 seconds I could ‘feel’ her staring at me. I opened one eye to find that she indeed was! When she saw I was awake she gave me the sweetest smile. I closed my eyes again and tried to sleep. After about two minutes I felt Sarah stirring. I decided to peak and watch what she was going to do. Her MO the last few months is to get up and get into things in my room! Perfume, jewelry, guitars etc. So I was curious to see what she thought she could get away with once she thought I was asleep. She slowly, carefully got to her knees then stood up holding her pink blanket. She then did something that touched my heart! She leaned over me and spread her blanket across me pulling at the edges to make sure I was covered. It took all my will power not to smile (although if she had been looking she would have seen a smile creeping at the edges of my mouth). She then snuggled even closer to me and pulled the blanket over her as well. At this point my smile broke free and she saw I was awake. She said, “I put my blankie over you so you won’t get cold mom.” What a sweetie! By this point my exhaustion had past and I knew I would not be sleeping. I snuggled with her for a few minutes and then got up. She asked me, “When you get done with your work, can you come seep with me again?” I told her I would try.

Perfect (April 7, 2010)

April 7, 2010 So today we woke up to a cool morning that rapidly turned warmer. I decided (upon hearing the request from my husband) to wash our sheets today. Once that was done I took them out and hung them on the Clothes Line outside. I love the smell of freshly washed laundry as the sun beats down and they start drying. I reluctantly went inside and started rinsing a couple dishes from lunch. The house was quiet (the girls were napping and the boys at school). I could hear the wind blowing through the trees and the chimes hanging over Joseph’s garden. The Birds were singing all day too (along with the roosters crowing constantly). It was a cacophony of spring music. I glanced up from the sink and saw the sheets blowing in the wind, the daffodils in a blue vase sitting on the windowsill and my white curtains waving in the breeze (well, they would be white if I washed them…maybe they’ll be next). It gave me a sense of peace and order and well being. I took a picture….I think I’ll stick with writing over photography 

Puddle January 3, 2010

Have you ever studied a puddle? I mean really watched it and seen what an incredible and cool thing it is? I was driving the other day and pulled up to the stop sign at the end of our dirt road. It was very cold outside, snow on the ground and the wind was blowing like it was angry. I came to a complete stop and put the car into park (can’t remember why, probably waiting for someone to get buckled) and I looked out the window to my left and saw a small puddle of water waving at me. The wind was making it ripple and I became transfixed on this little body of water. It reflected the beautiful blue sky and the clouds that were floating by. A small leaf floated across and leaned on the muddy edge of the puddle for a rest. I am sure if I had watched long enough that a frog or other tiny animal would have come across it for their own purposes. As it was I knew that this little puddle was important. While it fought off the cold rigorously I knew that eventually it would be unable to defeat it and would freeze solid to become an ice skating rink for whatever creature dared to brave the elements. Eventually, though, I could see in my minds eye, as the sun came back out and it melted back into the waving puddle that I now saw and then as the sun beat down upon it, it would give up the ghost and rise, rise up into the sky to wait it’s turn to return back into it’s comfy, muddy bed along side the end of my dirt road. I stare transfixed at this cute little puddle only about two feet by two feet. Ahh, they are ready and so I am, I put the car into drive and we leave that little puddle behind us waving goodbye and asking us to return soon.

Kiss (January 16, 2010)

Jan. 16, 2010 Did you know that 16 is my lucky number? Yes, I guess I already mentioned that. Why? Well, when I was little it was because my Birthday was June 16th but when I got a little older I realized that that was the age that I was allowed to date and since everything revolved around love, boys, marriage etc. that was a big deal. It was also the age I could get my Driver’s license and some freedom (however I didn't get my license ‘till I was 17…but I dated on my 16th B-day…shows where my priorities were). I always pick 16. If that’s not available, 6 will work, or anything with a 6 in it or even 3. Sometimes I’ll even go for 9 because 3X3 is 9. I know, I know, crazy logic. I could on and on with that. So, basically you’ll still never be able to figure out what number I am going to pick cuz of my crazy logic, however there is logic to it all. OK, so that’s not what I wanted to write about. I was eating a Hershey Milk Chocolate Kiss the other day and as it was slowly melting into ecstasy I had a very old memory come back to me. I was maybe five or six years old and was at the Dentist. I was very good and still, mainly because I was so shy, but that’s beside the point. I remember that after the appointment the Dentist gave me a beautiful, silver wrapped piece of Heaven. He said it was a ‘kiss’. I had never had one before. When he finally went away I slowly unwrapped the curious thing and popped it into my mouth. Oh heaven! Never had I tasted something so delightful. Never had something so small brought such joy and carefree happiness. It was the start of my love affair with Milk Chocolate. What a special treat. Throughout the years if I ever had a choice I would pick that tiny silver kiss of happiness over any other treat. I didn’t have them often and they were always so delectable and met up to my expectations divinely. So here I am, 27 years later and when I eat that sweet little treat I wonder why it’s not has special to me. While I enjoy it off and on it’s not always my first pick. Have I finally cheated on my first love? I mean, I easily withstood the advances of the White Chocolate Era when I was a teenager (no way did that match up to my beloved ‘Kiss’) and didn't give the Dark Chocolate Era a second look when I became an adult even with the claimed health benefits of it. (I mean really, whose eating chocolate for health reasons? I suppose some, maybe). Anyway, none of those things came between me and my kisses until I got too many. Until they were too plentiful. To easily had. It started a thought process that I haven’t quite thought through all the way. Lucky you. Here I am going to try and think it through. We, has humans, I don’t believe will ever be truly satisfied. We are always reaching for something “special” something “new”. Just as that Hershey kiss was special because I had never had it before and then didn’t get it often, as soon as I did, it was no longer special, just another treat. Eating out was also something that was special because we didn't do it a lot. Then as a teenager, when I was earning my own money and eating where I wanted, it wasn’t so special. Well, I guess this logic is obvious. It’s special because it’s not something we do or get a lot, but then we work to get it, and once we do it’s just another ‘thing’. Granted, I have to say the harder you work for something the more special and meaningful it is to you. Something handed to you or given without special emotional sentimentality attached to it is hardly ever so special. So as you become more successful and the little things just come as a part of life and no longer have that special meaning, what does? You start reaching for bigger things, but once they come easily, again we are back to the same thing. I suppose that’s why very wealthy people can have all these amazing things and still not think it’s special or be happy with it. It seems amazing to us ‘poorer’ folks, but in fact, we do that same thing, just on a smaller scale. So will true happiness and meaning ever be attained?? Reeelax, of course they can with proper perspective and self-control and gratitude. Just because you ‘can’ doesn’t mean you should. Save some of those little things as ‘special’ things. For example, going to the movie theater is something that was always a special event in my family. Even though we can afford to take our children more often to the theater, this is something we save for Thanksgiving, Christmas and maybe a birthday. It makes going to the theater something that is special and not just something to do. Of course I think the biggest and the most important thing is to be thankful for what you have. To give the credit where credit is due and that is to God. You would be nothing, have nothing without Him. Everything you are, all talents, all property is because of Him. If we are grateful for all that we have, for the little ‘kisses’ and things in life, then we can slow down and enjoy the moment we are in, instead of always living in the future. That is not to say that we are not supposed to be learning, reaching and improving, but be satisfied and thankful while you are doing it. If you are Happy with what you have as you continue to reach to be better, you’ve got it. Ok, probably none of this makes sense. Let me just advise, enjoy the moment! Most will not last and will not be repeated. Enjoy the sunshine of that perfect day, or the smile of that newborn, the laugh of your toddler, or the singing of the birds in the morning. Enjoy the noise of your children, they grow up fast and you’ll miss it. Enjoy the little things, enjoy the ‘kiss’.

Nuts To You!

Prompt: "You wake up to find a dead body on the floor – and a bloody knife in your hands. You can’t remember exactly what happened, so you piece together the clues."



Erica stood stalk still for a solid minute screaming her head off. When her vision began to sway she bent over leaning on her knees trying to breathe slowly in order to prevent another fall. Her apron was covered in blood and the large knife she held in her hand was crimson as well.

"Breathe, breathe," she commanded herself. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut as if that would block out the image of the heavy older woman laying motionless on her carpet.

Erica straightened up and opened one eye peering through her lashes hoping that her foggy head was playing tricks on her. But as the dismal realization dawned, that it indeed was not, she allowed her other eye to focus on the scene as well.

Her head was pounding, no doubt from the rather large bump that gave her the sensation of being a bobble-head. She glanced around. No one else seemed to be in the apartment. She couldn’t remember who this woman was or why she was here, or why it would seem, that she had killed her.

She looked into the next room and spied her little dining table. Wincing, she stepped over the woman, whose color was eerily close to matching that of the blue diamond patterns in her throw rug. She walked into the dining room and stared hard at the table. There were four place settings instead of the customary two. She quickly moved to the window and peered out at Bill’s parking spot. Their car was gone but in its place was another car she didn’t recognize.

She turned and slowly walked closer to the body and stood over it.

"I swear she’s changing colors," she mumbled, sure that the bump on her head was sending her into shock. But none of this made sense.

"I am not a murderer!" She whined out loud stomping her foot. And then she stopped as a thought suddenly hit her.

"Or am I? Ooooh, I knew those Junior High days would give me severe emotional trauma!"

Through her hair she rubbed at the growing tennis ball of a lump and decided she should get some ice on it. She turned the corner into the kitchen. Reaching for the freezer door Erica noticed the bloody knife still in her hand. She whirled around and dropped it next to the cutting board. She ran to the sink and frantically tried to wash the blood from her hands.

Erica froze mid scrub and peered at the bits of flesh and splatters of blood which covered the stainless steel bowl. She felt her stomach do a pop wheelie as the reality that she had just murdered and begun to carve this mysterious woman hit her! Her eyes went hazy and her weight tripled as her legs began to crumble beneath her.

Somewhere in the distance of her conscious mind she heard Bill’s voice announcing that he and his father were back from the store. His father? That’s right! Erica remembered. She was cooking dinner for Bill’s father and mother tonight. Blackness.

Voices. Smell of alcohol. Bright light. Heaven? No. Paramedics.

"Erica, can you hear me!?"

Erica opened her eyes slowly and peered past Bill’s shoulder as he hugged her. She heard someone say something about an anaphylactic allergic reaction and it being too late. Turning her head she saw a lavender sheet (her favorite silk one) covering the body. She bolted up only to have Bill catch her as everything swung around in circles like a merry-go-round.

Once it stopped and let her off, she remembered the pot roast. She had been cutting it when she heard the gasping noises squeaking out of her mother-in- law like a mouse stuck in a trap. She remembered trying to do the Heimlich maneuver and being unable to get her arms around the large woman.

She remembered her mother-in-law’s heavy panicked blow to her head which threw her off like a leaf fighting windshield wipers.

The almonds!

She remembered the almonds she had put in the hors d'oeuvres! The almonds she had cut up so carefully so they couldn’t be detected!

She buried her smile into Bill’s chest.

She remembered the constant criticism.

Yes, she remembered now.

Warm Cookies! Warm memories!

(True Story 4/26/10)
So this is not the first time I made cookies with a four year old and a two year old!
However the big difference this time, is that they are my daughters, not my sons!
While I am sure I have had them help before, they are actually going to make the cookies this time.

It all started this morning when my son announced he would like home-made chocolate chip cookies with M&Ms in them for the treat for Family Home Evening night tonight.

Sure, why not.

I glance out the window to see that the clouds have won their argument over the sun but tears of discontent are falling. The clouds are never satisfied. All in all...gloomy! A perfect day to stay in and feel domestic.

“Come my little prodigies, let’s bond!”

First step, we put on mother-made aprons and compliment each other on how cute we all look.

Second, we gather the bowl. This is Lucie, my two year old’s, job and she does it with great proficiency (it only takes a minute to pick up the other six bowls that end up on the floor).

Third, Sarah helps gather all the ingredients stopping to ask why “this butter is in a can?” pointing to a picture of butter on the shortening.

I explain very carefully that it is shortening, NEVER to be confused with heavenly, REAL butter. This is a ‘must know.’ As a matter-of-fact, I explain knowingly, that I only use it for this recipe and pie crusts sometime.

Up on two chairs they climb, Lucie’s wild curls springing with each excited jump (and my heart pounding as I catch her before she leaps right off the chair....(calm, child, calm!)

I regret that I didn’t do their hair as I notice Sarah’s wild blond, bed-head bangs sticking straight up in an electrocuted stance.

Ah well, what is beauty when there are cookies to be made?

One egg is sacrificed as Lu grabs it and cracks it to pieces on the side of the bowl (who taught her to do that?)

I calm Sarah’s hysterical, “Lucie broke the egg mom! Oh no! The egg!” and explain to Lucie its not time yet.

She glares at her sister with a “Oh, will you just chill?!” look.

Lucie takes her post with a wood spoon stirring everything that goes into ‘her’ bowl.
Once she realizes she will get the bowl back, she willingly allows me to move it over to Sarah who is measuring and dumping.

Sarah is very careful in her measurements and they are so cute gabbing away about ‘this’ and ‘that’.

I turn to take the bowl so I can ‘properly’ stir everything together only to find that Lucie has done an incredible job! What an arm!! She beat that dough better than a session in the wood shed! (Calm down, I don’t even HAVE a woodshed).

It is a joint effort putting the chocolate chips and M&Ms in (I don’t think they all made it in though, proved by blue and orange tounges).

Then I pull out the baking sheets and announce that it is my turn because I need to make sure that the cookies are the correct size.
Despite my declaration both girls scurry down and get spoons of their own.

Like the constant dripping of water on a rock, they beg to help make the ‘balls’.

I try to distract them and ask, “Sarah, what is your favorite part of making cookies?”
She stares at me with a painful look, not being able to scoop out the dough is such agony.
Through adorable, kissable pouty lips she whines, “I like making cookies with you.”

Ahhhh, my sweet little angel faced daughter! Her favorite part is making cookies WITH ME?!

I need another dose of that so I ask again, “What do you like doing best?”
She looks at me waving her empty spoon, scrunching her nose just a tad and says loudly, “I like doing to taste them!!”

I am shattered! So much so, that I try very hard not to laugh.

Both girls are sitting on the table with their empty spoons and such looks of apprehension and longing! I cannot help but smile and shove the bowl toward them and ask if they want to help put the cookies on the sheet.

Shouts of joy and accolades!

They dig in with no reserve and proceed to plop various sized lumps of dough onto the sheet in a myriad of designs. I scoop and teach and show but basically shrug, what does it matter?

I show Sarah where to put her spoonful and then I look to Lucie and see that she is doing a “one scoop to the pan”, “one scoop to her mouth pattern!!”

I tell them they may lick the spoon and scrape the bowl as I pop the cookie sheets into the pre-warmed oven.

After a moment I very seriously explain that part of cooking is cleaning up so when they are done licking the bowl they need to clean up.
Sarah, who is holding the bowl as they scrape it with their spoons, looks up at me questioning.

“Lick the bowl?” She looks at Lucie then puts her whole head inside the bowl and begins to lick it out!

Lucie hollers and grabs it and starts licking also!

Quickly I diffuse the building rage by taking the bowl and telling Lucie she needs to wash it.
What? A bowl full of water and a soapy brush to boot? How can anyone say this isn’t fun?!!

To Sarah I hand a washrag and instruct that she wipe the table off which she does with great gusto (Um, note to self...sweep the floor when she's done!).

We all ooh and ahh over the golden, multi-colored cookies I pull out of the oven. What warmth of memory fill our souls. Now for one little, or uh, big bite!
Squeals of delight!

Disability

I have decided that I have a disability.
You've heard of the saying “use it or lose it”?
Well that’s truly how it is with me, no doubt. If I do not drive to a certain place at least once a week I have to make a conscious effort to remember how to get there. If it has been longer than a month I normally have to get directions written out for me. Weird huh?

I think that’s why I was never much good at math or piano or spelling or anything you have to practice a lot at.
I don’t have the time to do a lot of practicing so it just goes right out of my brain.

I am sure it leaves to make room for something more important, but I haven’t quite figured out what it is yet. Something genius though.
Do you know how many times I have taught myself how to knit and crochet? Granted it doesn't go away completely, once I see it again I remember faster. Or once I read it again, or drive it again things are familiar to me.
However a couple good points in not having a very good memory is that I can re-read books many times cuz I can never remember them (even the ones I write…they are so exciting!)

I also never hold a grudge long. First of all I have to ‘deal’ with bad feelings because I can’t function with them weighing me down. And then because of my wonderful memory it just leaves me. I can honestly say at this moment I do not hate anyone or even have bad feelings toward anyone. I probably should, but just can’t remember who or why!

So while I struggle and feel at a disadvantage in a lot of things because of this self diagnosed disability, there is a lot of good that can come from it. I have always felt compelled to keep a journal and I have ever since I was a young girl.

I LOVED Little House on the Prairie books and thought for sure someday I would write my life story like that too…uh, dunno about that…but I am glad for the record because I would have forgotten a lot of important things that have gone on in my extremely not ordinary life.

That leads me to my habitual list making. I have to make lists for everything otherwise I will stress about what I am 'forgetting.'
My almost two year old daughter erased my “list” on my grease board the other day and I about had a hernia!

If I didn’t write things down I would constantly be stressed and worried about forgetting something. My husband thought it was pretty funny because I was freaking out trying to remember what was erased.
Well, it won’t be so funny when I forget to do something he asked me to do :)
Ahhhh...my poor memory!

Dream Laughter

OK, so I have a somewhat silly question. Whom, out of all of you (millions I am sure) that are reading this post, dream?
OK, put your hands down, seriously, are we in a classroom?
Granted, that everyone dreams but not everyone remembers their dreams.
I happen to be one of the lucky few who remembers (and emotionally experiences) her dreams most the time, for good or for terrifying.
So I had an experience a few weeks ago and again last night where I was sound asleep dreaming and I woke up laughing!!!
For real! Laughing out loud because of something that happened in my dream!
Then of course when I realized why I was laughing I had to giggle at myself and look to see if I woke my hubby up (no worries there).
Normally I am not someone who you might call a "Sleeping Beauty" or a "Snow White" lying there beautiful with a heart full of desire to be awakened. Although I often feel like I am coming out of some kind of spell when I wake up (but I look more like Medusa than a princess and boy, can I turn people into stone with just one glare!)
I do not normally arise with a smile on my face and singing in my heart...as a matter-of-fact my husband's reflexes have got really good as he wakes me up and jumps back into a defensive position.
However, when I have had the completely refreshing experience of waking up laughing, that is an entirely different story (one to rival Disney princesses minus the snake hair).
I have been a vivid dreamer my entire life and have only experienced this about three times and all this year (it beats waking up crying or screaming or punching).
Hmmm, sounds like a set up for an analyzation of my life, I'll spare you though.
Laughing makes me happy, (you say duh) but what I mean is, even if I don't feel happy, or everything is completely going wrong (or if I have to wake up), if I can laugh, things brighten up and my emotions are actually changed! (Yeah I know, there's some scientific explanation for it all but, whatever...I'm talking about me here.)
So why do we, I, fight so hard to stay mad and not laugh or smile sometimes? I dunno, but it sure feels great when that smile wins and breaks through and the laughter bubbles out after it!
Can't think of anything that will make you smile or laugh? Grab the nearest child (a relative preferably as to not cause any law suits) and start tickling them! It's contagious! Better yet, get a baby to laugh. Works every time!
Laugh!

aeb

ps. I do realize that most people do not see "analyzation" as a real word. But I decided it is, hence my use of it. Just fyi.

Smell (January 30, 2010)

January 30, 2010 I think many times we forget to be thankful for the little things like our sense of smell. I have always had a very sensitive sense of smell, but one of my sisters doesn't have one at all. She said that’s probably why she can eat almost anything  Granted, things taste a lot stronger to me than her because of that sense of smell. Have you ever tried to eat chocolate with your nose plugged? Yuck! And yet, add smell and it’s heavenly (to most of us anyway.). Interestingly enough, smell is one of the strongest ‘memory keepers’ I have. Smells bring back such strong memories or feelings from events long past. Whenever I smell Lemons I remember a dream I had when I was about 5 years old. I was dressed in a white cotton lace sundress walking through a beautiful grassy orchard of lemon trees. Everything was bright and the scent of lemons was strong! The grass was brilliant green and the sky majestic blue. It was complete peace. So when I smell lemons, it calms me. When I smell wet, hot asphalt I remember walking along our newly paved driveway in Oregon with my brothers and sisters and telling them a made up story as we went. When I smell coffee, I think of my Grandparents and their smile and love. The smell of daffodils brings me back to my childhood picking flowers; the smell of pine trees, when I used to climb the Ponderosa pines in Oregon. There are so many more, but I bore you. I am just thankful for my senses.