Monthly Archives: June 2009

So, in case you didn’t gather from the last post, Calvin and I have been diagnosed with Swine Flu. I thought of Photoshopping a picture of me with a pig nose – but since cute pictures of me are already hard enough to come by, I thought I better not add to my humiliation.

There have been good things about having the swine flu. Earlier in the week I was more aware of them. As I am now on day seven of being sick, my morale is not so high, and my optimism not so great. But I will share them with you.

1) I get to be part of the great “Pandemic” – and be avoided like the plague. I’ve heard about the H1N1 virus for months now. Now I get to claim to be a part of it. That’s kinda cool. I mean, can I say it anymore? I have swine flu.

2) When we are done with being sick, we will then have anti-bodies to create our own immunity to the disease for next fall and winter, when, I’ve read, it should really hit in full force. Not only will I have the immunity, but little Cal, and perhaps most importantly, the NEW baby will be immune. It is only in this that I wish O had gotten sick too, although one more sick person at our house might push us over the edge.

3) Super-Y . . . my super-hero husband, has made his presence known. He came home Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday nights and took care of the kids, made dinner, EVEN cleaned the house. He made sure I was comfortable, and did everything I asked, and told me to stop doing the things that I tried to do, telling me he’d take care of it. He gave me a blessing on Wednesday night, and I was reminded the magnitutude and importance of having a “righteous priesthood leader” in my home.

4) Marmie came to take care of me. When the official diagnosis came in on Wednesday afternoon, I said “Maybe I’ll call my mom to take care of me,” and my neighbor asked “would she really do that?” And I said – “Oh, sure.” Well, it took a while to get hold of her – she was out boating Wednesday afternoon. But first thing Thursday morning up she came (from St. George). She’s kept my dishes clean, made meals for everyone (Wyatt was at the end of his 3 meal knowledge), and did ALL the laundry in my house, including sheets and blankets, a major feat. She’s gone to get me popsicles and sprite, and generally made our lives much easier. Mom always knows what to do for sick people. It’s one of her gifts. One of her very very many.

5) I got my first “sent” flowers yesterday. Now, lest you think Wyatt never gets me flowers, let me assure you, that’s not true. He was better when we were dating and first married (as I suspect most men are), but he still comes home with a boquet several times a year. He just doesn’t send me flowers. He brings me flowers. So the difference in delivery was neat and exciting.

I’m really ready to be done with my symptoms. I’m ready to be healthy and play in the sun that has FINALLY come out. But I suspect I will have a few more days before I will begin to clear up. My mom read on the CDC website that I was considered contagious for seven days after the onset of symptoms. That means tomorrow I can go out, even if I’m still yucky. I probably won’t socialize, but I might go out and transplant my sunflowers and take my kids to the park. I’m ready for summer. Can you blame me?

Sitting on the porch today: a string of a dozen or so otter-pops, and scissors by my side. Wyatt and O gone to Target. Mom’s gone to see Leslee. Cal isn’t crying, for the first time in 48 hours. He’s pushing Olivia’s bike around on the porch. White van pulls up.

My eyes narrow. Unmarked white vans are NOT welcome on my street. Man gets out. “Stay away! I have swine flu!” I think to myself. He goes around to the far side of the van.

“What does he need. I HAVE swine flu!”

He re-emerges with a beautiful purple and white boquet of flowers.

“How close should he get to me? I have swine flu.” I eye his clipboard, knowing a signature request is coming.

“I’ve never been sent flowers before! I’ve never been sent flowers in my whole life!” He makes his way across the front lawn.

“Who sent them? Wyatt? Or my dad?” I instantly know its one of those two.

He steps up from the lawn to the porch. “It must be a hazardous job delivering flowers. You have to be exposed to all the sick people.”

“Sign here.” Is all he says.

I take the pen, legitimately trying not to touch him or breath on him. Sign fast.

“Look, there’s even a card!” I admire it. It has the name of the florist (unlike the unmarked white van) on it. It says: To Andrea and Calvin on the outside. I don’t even mind sharing my first sent flowers with Cal. He’s super cute- even if he has been crying non-stop for 48 hours. Who can be uncheered with flowers?

The card has a sweet get-well message on the inside – from my Dad.

More good things about having swine flu to follow in another post shortly, as long as I’m not overcome with bitterness of being sick the first week of good weather this summer!

Since I don’t have much to say about life these days, I thought I’d share this video of Olivia reciting her second article of faith. It was taken over a month ago, I just haven’t posted it until now.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qmn9HgUmbko&hl=en&fs=1&]

After two weeks of perpetual rain we decided to make the most of a break in the clouds, and go on a walk to the Shaw Shack.

I love rain . . .

But this is ridiculous.

I mean seriously . . .

You’d think I lived in Seattle.

Not the desert.

But it does make for lovely sunsets.

And it inspires young things to grow.

I’m a tree huger. I say it loud and proud. I’m not a tree-huger in a social-political sense (well, that could be debated), I’m a literal tree huger. As in, I hug trees. There have been many trees in my life, they are cataloged in my memory, and recalled with all the softness of pussy willows on your fingertips: where each lived, what their names were, what was going on in my life when that tree was part of it . . . trees like The Enchanted Tree, and The Old Swing Tree and Erma and Emaline. There are also trees that I’ve never met, just admired from a distance. Like the tree that lives just past the round-about in Lehi, that we pass every time we go to Jena and Lance’s. “I love that Tree” I say to Wyatt every time. “I know” is all he says back. If there was one thing that would make me move – in a heart beat – away from my beloved neighborhood, it would be a big piece of land with big beautiful trees. Oh what rapture fills my soul when I see a wonderful tree. There never was a toy so entertaining as a tree. There never was a feeling more warm and secure than the rough bark on bare feet.

Sometimes I look back on my . . . long . . . life, and I’m surprised at how “grown up” I’ve become. It actually discourages me. Nothing reminds me of it more than spending time with my sisters. Sisters – who are not grown up – who used to look to me as the ring leader of all our great games. I must be very boring now. Very concerned with “logistics” and “projects” and “making sure dinner is made.” I used to wear Polyester like it was all the rage. Now I’m so conservative in my clothes I bore even myself! I used to wear roller skates like they were shoes . . . great for going to the grocery store. But now I think – “I’ll break my ankle!” I used to make things and have ideas and make lists of fun and fabulous things to do. The other day I tried to brainstorm for our Christensen family summer. It was PATHETIC.

Lest this sounds like a good start on summer, let me tell you: EVERY SINGLE THING ON THIS LIST is a repeat of summers past. I couldn’t come up with one single new original idea!

If I was my twenty year old self looking at my twenty-nine year old self, I would be disgusted . . . not at all things. But certainly at my ability to think of original and creative ideas. I’ve turned very – ahem - relief-society-ish. For this I apologize to my dear sisters. They seem to take it in stride.

I think I’ve done everything on this list except make out on an escalator. Now you know what I’m doing Friday night. Where’s a really long escalator?

Wyatt is an excellent technical writer. I know, you’d never know it by his post below, but I attribute that to him writing it on a whim at 1:00 am and not taking this blog format seriously (can you believe it?). He got an A on EVERY paper he ever wrote in college. He got a PERFECT score on his graduate entrance exam in the writing section. I’m proud of him, even if he does stand over my shoulder and correct my spelling at times. ESCHEW EXCESS VERBIAGE. That was written in red colored pencil on one of my high school papers. I had to look up “Eschew” to understand what my teacher was saying. “Don’t write in passive voice.” What does that mean, anyway? I never did figure it out. I’m better at Creative Writing than Technical. That’s because Creative Writing is much more forgiving. But I don’t have that consistency that I so admire in some people’s writing.

I used to read A LOT. I used to know poetry, I used to be well versed in the classics. Now I read something and think ‘oh yeah! I knew that once.’  And then I think ‘I should know stuff like this more.’ But I don’t.

Wyatt and I watched Valkyrie a few nights ago. Boring. I fell asleep (but then again, it was after 10:00). But there was one aspect of the movie that I really liked. There was a part when the main character (Tommy) is telling his wife: “If we fail, they’ll come after you and the children.” And all she says is “I know.”

And they do fail. And Tommy is killed. Wife and kids survive and nine months later the Allies take Berlin. But the part I found so inspiring by that is simply this: The main character didn’t wait to let someone else do the right thing. He didn’t wait for the Allies, or another group. He simply acted on the situation before him, doing the right thing regardless of personal consequences. Not only personal consequences to himself, but his family. And his wife was a hero as well – she knew he had to do what was right, regardless of consequences to herself or children. That is true heroism. I don’t believe we live in a world where there are many people like that. I don’t think I’m like that. I’m all talk when it comes to consequences to myself, but ask me to put my kid in danger, and it’s a no-go.

There’s a Robert Frost poem – Birches – that I really like. I made a book of it once when I lived on the Indian Reservation. But Olivia got a hold of it this past winter, and now the tie on the binding is frayed. Oh well. I’ll have to make her a new one. It so inspires me.

May no fate willfully misunderstand me – I’m happy at this place in my life. So happy. It’s so good. But sometimes I look back and am astonished. I was so sure – so sure I would always live my life with creativity and courage and adventure. I was sure my arms would always be able to pull me into the branches of any tree I chose. Now life is so different. How do you reconcile?

Last night we hung out with our friends, the Cartiers. The lived in our ward for about a year, but moved about a year ago. Now maybe – hopefully – they might move back in. That would be awesome!

They have a baby girl, Nora, who has the cuteset, most kissable cheeks EVER. It was fun to get together and hang out!

So when people ask, “what’s up”, I tend to answer with, “good things”, and thats true, and its mostly the same as everyone else.  I live in a house, I eat food, I wear clothes, I drive a vehicle, I play with my kids, I work hard, etc.  What I don’t have are any really great hobbies, you know, something to take my mind off of the usual. Andrea is a phenomenal artist, she’s had her work in galleries, and its such a raw natural talent, it amazes me. Anything creative, artsy or genuine is just a part of who she is. She can make anything work when it comes to art, regardless of the medium.

Once at dinner, we didn’t have any butter, so she whips out her paints and makes a tasty spread that looked exactly like butter, in about 30 seconds and although it was paint, I ate it and it was delicious. So later on, it was my turn to make dinner and we didn’t have any ketchup for the hamburgers, so I went to the cupboard and got out the cherry cough syrup. The kids loved it. Andrea banned me from the kitchen. Now when I want a snack or something, I have to fill out a request card which takes 24-48 hours to process….so I’ve learned that I can’t copy someone elses raw natural talent. I am a plain bellied sneetch tolerated among starbellied superstars. A hungry plain bellied sneetch. -w

We made hamburgers and home-made fries and had Limeade and Tabbouleh and ate it all in the backyard.

Simply Limeade & Simply Lemonade are our “splurge” in our groceries. We always have it on hand.

The home-made fries were yummy, but a lot of work. Oh well.

Jason and Leslee joined us for our evening

After dinner Wyatt and Jason moved the couches from the living room into the basement.

Yesterday I decided to have an impromptu get together at my house that evening. That’s actually not very uncommon for us – we regularly have desert at our house or at someone’s house in the neighborhood on Sunday nights. But instead of just inviting the “regulars” – you know who you are, I decided to branch out a little, and invite some peeps we’ve never really hung out with.

Since I decided to have this little get together with such short notice, I also decided it better be “pot luck” – because I knew I didn’t have enough treats to share with everyone. And doing that actually relieved a lot of the stress of inviting a large group. We pulled all our chairs and benches onto the front lawn, spread out a blanket or two, and had a very casual treat night in the glorious late spring evening. Because our back yard still isn’t “child proof” – no gate around “the pit”, swing set not completely put together, no side gates, etc., I was a little nervous about having too big of a crowd and having people not pay attention to their children and someone get hurt. But it turned out okay. One kid did fall in the pit, and scraped his elbow, but it was minor. Since we set up in the front yard (for reasons mentioned above) the kids mostly stayed in the front yard and rode bikes up and down the street and played in the swing in the front tree etc. Olivia and Cal were in kid-heaven with a whole gaggle of kids to play with. Next time we’ll invite even more peeps.

I think we’re going to do this the last Sunday of every month while the weather holds.