11 ...

Last year BS came into town with their children, who are highly entertaining.  I counted down the days until their arrival and found a portable crib for Ash {which I believe is still in your room Matt}, carseats for he and Aves, the makings Matt needed for breakfast {I'm good at the grocery shopping, a start I suppose}, and blankets for the masses.  I was incredibly on top of things for the 8:20 arrival of the flight from Omaha.  I was shocked as I found myself still at the office when B's number came up on my phone, it was only 7:45 ... their plane had landed, early ... obviously.  I hopped into the car and headed up the 15, thrilled that my friends were only moments away.  I called Matt to let him know I was picking up our early arrival and with a panicked voice I was told to stall.  "How do I stall from the airport to your house? They have tired kids." I was told to figure it out. 

The greeting at the airport was full of hugs and squeals and B rolling his eyes at S and I as we acted like we hadn't communicated with one another in ages while he knew full well that we talked at minimum two times a week for at least a half an hour.  He loaded up the back of the wagon, barely what with the strollers and two weeks worth of supplies for the family of four and we were off.  I followed the speed limit and on the other side of the door at the House on the Corner was greeted with a "Nice work Kas!" Following the speed limit is delay enough apparently.

We stayed up late that night, being entertained by Aves and cuddling with Ash and baby Cameron {DQ came to visit! PS: Most of my married friends have fun combined initials as you can tell}.  Aves demanding the duo of her gracious host and chauffeur to put her to bed so up we went, I told the story and Matt sang a little ditty {maybe two or three as Aves batted her eyes in attempt to prolong her retirement for the evening}.  It was nice just sitting there, with old friends, laughing and remembering times gone by. 

The next morning we arose to snow but we are all tough so we thought nothing of it as Matt created a breakfast for Champs, I encourage any and all to request his French Toast for breakfast at chateau de House on the Corner. As BS and I got ready for the day Matt took care of Aves but it turned into the five year old, standing tall at 37 inches, versus the 29 year old, standing just shy of 76 inches, in a match of gymnast skills.  Needless to say the rest of were a bit distracted and in turn delayed in preparations.

Long story long {thank you John}, we got on the road, B at the wheel because it was his family and 'if there is going to be an accident let it be with me at the wheel,' I couldn't have agreed more.  Well, we missed the knocking on the wood or something because as we passed Mantua in Sardine Canyon the car coming west off of the hill slid across the road and right into the car. 

The Christmas Miracle: In a spot where death had occured just 10 days prior, on road conditions a little better than our own, at a speed that was much lower than I would have been going {keeping us on the road at impact instead of in a ditch a foot and a half to our right}, two deployed airbags and a banged up side later ... no one was injured.  A wonderful family B's family knew took us in until S's parents {whom I have adored every since our meeting in Grace all those years prior} came to the rescue with B's parents right behind them.  These strangers to us, their name has escaped me, opened their home to us for several hours as we waited our personal rescue team.  I tend to be an anxious girl {shocking, I know} and both S and I had a bit of anxiety as the realization of what could have happened hit in those following hours.  But in a home where the true Spirit of Christmas resided that day we found peace, for their hearts were open even more than their doors.

To M: Can we have more sleepovers involving fun friends and ending with French Toast?
To BS and AA: I wouldn't have chosen anyone else to go through that with ... and that's the truth.  I'm glad you were driving B, I'll always let you even with your gangster stance behind the wheel.
To Mantua Family: Thank you for your kindness and generosity that cold December morning, it will not be soon forgotten.

Merry Christmas BSAAMF and M!! See you in t-minus 82 hours ... I may or may not be counting.

12 ...

I do not remember a year prior to my seventeenth when we were not here the Friday evening following Thanksgiving. 

 Yes, I grew up in a bit a euphoric town.  Yes, the whole population would gather in Market Square to sing carols and watch the lights be turned on.  Yes, we would each have a hot chocolate in hand.  Yes, I would be on my Uncle Max's shoulders to be able to see better while Bri was on Uncle Mike's, Buba was on Uncle Joe's, Jacob on Uncle Matt's, and Josh on Dad's.  Yes, we would put our hands in their hair to keep them warm.  Yes, Grandma would sing loudly and all of us grandchildren would roll our eyes.  Yes, we would see our friends and ask to get down to talk with them.  Yes, Gramps would look at each of us and wink as we rejoined in the singing with the family.  Yes, I would look at the Foresters and think that one day I would be a part of this choir my mom and uncles were in.  Yes, I would stare up at the sky to see the stars and smile.  Yes, if I were lucky, as I gazed up towards the bright evening star the snow would fall on my face and I would get all sorts of excited for the sledding to happen shortly! Yes, we would count down with the entire audience as the lights were turned on.  Yes, it was magical.  Yes, I plan on raising my children in the euphoric land called where everyone does know your name and the town is still town and you take a train {a magical train} into the city.  

So Market Square:  I miss you.  Every Post-Thanksgiving Day day, as the world celebrates Black Friday, I think of a time when my only worry was whether or not I would get the solo I wanted in Wednesday group.  I think of taking the train from Lake Bluff to Lake Forest to go to Sweet's.  I think of the first time I left LFHS to go to Einsteins instead of going to class.  I think of going into Toy Station and making my mental list for Santa.  I think of your lights and the casual chaos you ensue during the month of December.  I think of how that chaos is not one of strangers but rather of friends, all friends, no stranger in sight.  You are not a crazy mall, you are not an impersonal venue.  You belong to us.  You are magical.  You, Market Square, are part of my Christmas Past, a part I always hope to see in my dreams around this time of year. 

Merry Christmas Market Square! Hopefully you will be in my Christmas future, the near future!

13 ...

Christmas day was a Sunday that year in Ephrata.  Felix and I awoke to our sparkly tree and snow.  We shared Christmas breakfast prior to heading to the ward house, I had already opened my gifts {I was just as impatient as I am now}.  When we got to the Church we found all three wards crammed tightly into the building for our joint hour meeting.  We began searching for the two families we had been teaching.  After many handshakes and hugs I spotted them.  E was standing tall for the first time since I had met him.  He had on a new shirt, tie and shoes.  His sisters at either side were grasping his hands with gloved hands.  His mother a few steps behind him stood with tears in her eyes, Christmas had come to even her surprise.  As we walked in to find our seats I could not stop looking back at E.  There was a smile on his face, a real smile.  He was genuinely happy to be worshiping with us that morning.  He sang the hymns for the first time.  He did not poke at his sisters during the quiet moments as most 14 year olds would do, he sat listening.  At one point he turned to ask for the meaning of a word shared by the speaker, he was paying attention.

As the meeting ended and we were saying our goodbyes until our visit later that afternoon I could not help but ask E what had happened, why this boy who was sullen and melancholy only a day before had become a joyful kid.  He looked at me and said this, "French, it is Christmas.  I got new stuff and that was nice but I also remembered I got Jesus and that was nicer."

So to E: Yes, that is nicer.  Thank you for reminding me of joy and the true purpose for it.  It looks good on you, joy that is.

Merry Christmas E and family!!

14 ...

I had been in Ephrata for nine months.  Everyone knew my time was coming to an end.  Brown and Justice basically had told me during the last round of transfers that I had pushed all of the available buttons and pulled all visible strings, my time in my perfect little town of seven thousand was going to end.  Christmas fell during my final week among these people.

The three wards opened their hearts and homes to Felix and I that Christmas season.  We were showered with more food than any missionary should ever see {it's no wonder the average weight gain in the mission is fifteen pounds}.  We were introduced to new people to teach as families shared "Mr. Krueger's Christmas" and invited us to join them.  We were loved.

The night before we had joined the Adams in playing Santa.  Nadine and Roger, one of my more favorite couple crushes, allowed us to be a part of their family tradition in blessing the lives of those in need this particular evening.  To be in their home that night, as was the case anytime we were able to be there, was a joy.  Singing carols as we wrapped gifts, laughing at the moments that had transpired over the last nine months, remembering the first day I had walked into their house, a day and a half after losing Uncle Mike, and feeling a sense of belonging ... If I close my eyes tightly enough I can still feel the magic, the acceptance, the happiness, the love that is cultivated in their home.  As we dropped off gifts that night, laughing so hard we were crying as Roger almost fell while Stu and BJ were running in opposite directions to avoid being caught, I remember thinking how simple this evening was and yet how much joy was being cultivated.  They truly were and continue to be one of my favorite families.

So to the Adams: Thanks not only for the memories made on Christmas Eve and the smiles that you induced on Christmas morning in the homes of those seeking truth but for all of the memories.  Thank you for hilarious commentary prior to the meetings, for the hilarious commentary during in meetings, and for the hilarious commentary after the meetings.  Thank you for understanding.  Thank you for enduring.  Thank you for living each day as true examples of the living spirit of Christmas.

Merry Christmas Adams!! Don't fall running!!

15 ...

There was a blizzard outside.  Pops had joined me in Nebraska for the last leg of the journey home.  Both of us excited to reach a home full of family and activities, we left against the advisement of the National Weather Service, we had taken on Buba's theory of invicibility I suppose.

I drove the first two hours, when the snow was falling in a beautiful manner still, roads still visible.  As the backdrop to the beautiful snow grew darker Pops asked if he could drive, I was not opposed in the slightest.  We pulled off the next exit, gassed her up, and made our way back onto the 80.  I was getting tired so I threw in Barack's latest book on CD for Pops to stay awake to {he'd get wired in disagreement with him keeping that mind awake and alert}.  When I fell asleep there was still a beautiful picture being painted outside the windows.  When I awoke this is all I could see ...

... I had awoken to the sound of the tires hitting the safety bumps on the side of the road, the ones deemed annoying 99% of the time but in this case were keeping us on the highway.  There were a few trucks that passed, going fifty miles an hour or so, we were cruising at about 35 at this point.  Those were the trucks we saw, barely, spun out in the median or flipped over a few miles down the road.  We were going, full steam ahead toward Home.  Pops kept me calm and focused on other things by discussing the book he had been listening to, I was fully engaged in that conversation.

As the hours passed the storm continued to get worse, we were traveling at about fifeteen miles an hour, not another car in site.  We were braving it on our own.  However, about twenty miles west of Champaign, Pops decided it was time to stop.  He managed to get us off the 80 and into a rest stop where we pulled the blankets he insisted via phone I back prior to leaving Utah over us and waited out the storm. 

It was far from the fastest drive back east I've ever done, I think Sam and I made it in under twenty one year {don't judge}.  However, with Pops at the wheel it was the only drive, even with the storm, that I was able to sleep through for more than seven minute increments.  There is a safety, even in the midst of a hideous storm, that is found when I'm with him, a security, a feeling of assurance even when the world offers none.  He's Pops, Daddy, Father and friend.  And when we awoke, although I'm not certain he slept as there was no heavy snoring to be heard, the snow had stopped and we made it to original House on the Corner within three hours.

So to the Pops: Thanks for getting me home safely that Christmas.  Thanks for knowing the nervous look on my face as I peered out the window only to see a whiteout and 'discussing' then Senator Obama's policies.  Thanks for demanding that I pack blankets so we did not freeze at that rest stop as there was no safe way to get to a hotel for the waiting period.  Thanks for knowing what to do, as you always do.

Merry Christmas Pops!  See you soon.

16 ...

The Location: Hawthorn Mall
The Date: Christmas Eve, 1997
The Players: Everyone I knew and loved

Mom dropped Gill and I off, 15 and 14 respectively, at the mall around ten that morning.  At that point in my life I was a last minute shopper, you can judge for yourself if I still fall in that category {the Do-You-Really-Know-Kasi-Well-Enough-To-Know-Her-insert behavior here- Test of the post}.  I had a list, clearly I started young with that habit, and knew where exactly I needed to go.  Adding to the list of why some of you lovingly refer to me as Marsha, I inherited the loathing for meandering aimlessly shopping for something you have yet to identify.  And yes, this proves a bad combination with the lack of preparation on my part and the need to use the second busiest shopping day of the year.

We were off, Gill at my side laughing at my determination to be done in an hour and half.  As we exited the first store we ran into Brandon, shopping with Dave.  We laughed for a few minutes, wished one another a Happy Christmas {we'd see them both later that night with Caroling and such most likely} and moved on.  With a few more bags in hand we ran into Brit and a cheer friend, we shared our purchases and hugged and said we would talk later.  On to more gift purchases.  But before we could make it inside of the bookstore we ran into the Rule parents and as most of you know, they are yappers {yappers whom I adore with my whole heart but yappers nonetheless}.  After a few minutes lost to them I grabbed Gill and we were entering the bookstore.  I might have sighed a heavy irritated sigh as I saw Rob and Steve, neither of whom deserved said sigh, wandering with blank stares on their faces.  Gill wanted to say hello, so welcome distraction number ... I have lost count. 

I won't go on, you get the point.  Everyone that I knew was at the mall that day and as I got into the car three and a half hours later, after using the pay phone twice to tell Mom not to come quite yet as we were not done because of these 'distractions', I complained about seeing everyone.

I did not know how much I would love that memory, I wish I had.

To Chicago Christmas Eve Shoppers:  Can we all meet in the mall on Christmas? I'll squeal with excitement as I see your faces rather than roll my eyes.  I'll oooo and ahhh over your children and laugh as they go running to the pyramid fountain and my once agile friend, now stricken with pre-mature gray hair, goes running after his second born.  Can I spend a few minutes {though I would prefer hours} talking with the Rules, running into a Labrum or two, spotting those tall Branhams from halfway across the food court, make a tally of the Worthens and run out of the brain capacity to keep it accurate, see a Gnadt people watching as calm as a cucumber as the rest of the world goes on in its chaotic way, giggle as I see the Schupples singing their way from store to store?  Let's make a plan to do that ... Christmas Eve? 

Merry Christmas Last Minute Shoppers!!

17 ...

So I have this friend and he does this thing and that thing is going on dates {I know, it happens}.  This is not rare among my friends, we do this dating thing but Hockey has a goal for a set number by a his next birthday.  In the midst of our brainstorming one night for fun date ideas a night on Temple Square came up.

"I'm going to ask you to promise me one thing, right now."  I needed the agreement prior to the statement but he's not as accommodating as some of you.  Hockey made that Kasi-is-ridiculous Face and waited for me to continue.  "Okay, well, just promise me that you won't actually take someone to Temple Square.  Yes, lights ... great.  But seriously Hockey, its the most overused and cliche moment.  Promise me."  He continued to make the Kasi-is-ridiculous face, waiting for me to continue, which I did.  "Okay, well then, promise me that it won't be a first date.  You can't take the first date to see the Christmas lights on Temple Square, a second or third fine, but not the first date."

The Kasi-is-ridiculous Face disappeared and in its place was the Funny Face, I'm not going to expound ~ you should get what that would be indicative of.  "Kasi, I plan on taking a first date there, holding hands, riding in a carriage, seeing the lights, and popping the question right there."  Funny Hockey, real funny.

...

It was my sophomore year at USU.  He was nice so I agreed to the date and looked forward to getting to know him a bit more.  He did not tell me the plans, just to dress warm.  YAY! that meant we were going sledding or something fabulous and adventurous.  Nope, I was sucker-punched with the reality that we had an hour drive ahead of us {seriously, in my mind a first date doesn't need to be longer than an hour, just long enough to learn a few things, laugh, and determine if you can spend that time with one another without wanted to gouge your eyes out}, a walk on Temple Square, and another drive home ~ late, through Sardine. 

We had a great drive down, great conversation to my surprise.  Then we made it to Temple Square.  Please understand, Christmas to me is a time for magic and fun and magic and family and magic and laughter and magic and friends and magic.  I love Christmas lights {another post for another day}.  I love the Temple.  I love walking.  I do not love the complete awkwardness that is the first date, walking with arms
tucked deep into our own pockets and conversation hitting a lull as we watched couple after couple pass and family after family take advantage of the great photo opportunity.

After taking in all we could of the lights we headed back to the car.  Sweet B, who I actually did end up going out with for a bit {the typical bit for me}, opened my car door and just started laughing.  "This was a bad idea I think."  At that point we both just started laughing and then we laughed some more.  As we drove north we hopelessly mocked ourselves and the potential outcomes for that date ... B could have left with a wife had he chosen the right partner that evening!  Then our conversation moved to the lights, the magic of it all ...

...

So to B I say:  Thank you for the hilarity in the the midst of finals and awkwardness.  I'm glad you popped the question to W at the apartment and not at the light display attended by hundreds each day ~ she's like me and enjoys her privacy.  It was the best worst first date ever ~ one point to you!  Those 20 minutes of meandering, not arm in arm, were  priceless!

Merry Christmas B and family!! I'm still laughing!!

18 ...

Today as I drove to work in a storm that UT had saved to celebrate the 28th {wink wink} birthday of Bunk, safely tucked in bed in CA as he would have it, I found myself {in spite of my favorite UT drivers forgetting that we get snow each year and how to maneuver in it} elated.  I was first to the office, per usual due to my incredible sleep patterns, and searched for someone, anyone to talk to about the beauty that was outside.  My favorite IT guy D was first to be spotted and I was going at a million miles an hour to describe what he had just driven through, the beauty, the magic, the snow ... he was not as elated.  As I sat down in a feeble attempt to channel my energy and elation into productivity I received a ping from R who is back East, "Happy Snow K ... its here too."  And then I remembered ...

We were with the group in the living room playing a rousing game of Catch Phrase, he was on my left.  His hand on my knee, squeezing with each ridiculous comment made by our incredibly entertaining friends.  As someone mixed up the word 'desert' with 'dessert' {blessing hearts} his squeeze caused me to turn my head to stifle my squeal of a laugh, leaning on his shoulder, my eyes looking out the large bay window ... it had begun to snow!! I jumped up and ran to the window, R followed.  "It's snowing," I whispered the obvious to him, hoping he would see the invitation to get out of there in my eyes.

"Let's go," he whispered back as he took my hand and led us to the piles of shoes at the door, our ears were deaf to our friends remarks as we walked away from the gathering.  My excitement grew with each article of clothing I layered on, the extra pair of socks, boots, scarf, additional scarf, gloves, coat with hood up, mittens above the gloves ... R laughed as he saw me but understood as well as I did that I was not trying to be cute, just trying to keep all of my limbs.  We made our way out to the side walk where he grabbed my hand.  We laughed as his ginormous ski gloves could not really even grasp my double-gloved {HA!}-hand.  He then proceeded to ramble, for the length of an entire block, about the purpose of hand holding and finished the ramble with the bold action of taking off his glove to be able to feel my hand.  I grabbed his hand with both of mine to keep it warm.

The snow was falling heavily and quickly, coating his black cap and my hood.  When I would look up to talk with him my eyelashes would catch quarter-sized snowflakes, I'm certain he thought I was batting my eyes in some flirtatious-come-closer way but it was merely to get those snowflakes off so I could see.  He wiped off the flakes that fell on my hood.  We walked slowly, soaking up the magic that was the first snow of the season.  He started humming and I joined, minutes passing to the two-part harmony of my favorite Christmas Carol, he's one smart cookie.  I pulled out his glove from his pocket and had him put it back on as I could feel the coldness of those fingers through my layers, after the famous R eye roll he obliged.  Then he put his arm around me and plopped a kiss on my head {well, my hood}.  The first snow and an adorable head kiss, could this get any better?

Yes.  As we made it to the end of the next block we stopped.  He wiped a few more snowflakes from my face and we laughed at the moment.  As I hid my head from the wind in his chest I heard it, "Kas..." I knew what was going to happen next and felt First Lt. Flighty {of the butterfly brigade in my tummy} announce to the fleet that it was time for a quick takeoff.  I looked up and saw that face, the one I would come to adore over the next three months {I was oober young and hadn't quite perfected my 10 Week and Bolt method}, and he came down for his kill, his kiss ... in the snow.  It was perfect ...

So to R: You are the reason I get elated at the first snow each year, I'm certain my subconscious chimes in to my alert conscious "Remember how simple things were then ... let's find that simple magic and happiness again."  You may not have been my first kiss but that was our first kiss and you were my first 'elements' kiss and it is this story I will tell to my nieces {because the Guy Upstairs knows better than to give this slightly dramatic girl a melodramatic daughter} and they will adore this memory as much as I.  Every year I smile at the first snow storm and get a few goose bumps of elation even when sitting in front of the fire, this year I remembered why.

Merry Christmas R!

19 ...

Girlfriend was having a rough day, life for a kindergartner is a roller-coaster of emotions filled with art projects, new friends, and math.  This particular afternoon was the peak of the coaster.  Cowboy was not having it, he rolled his eyes and asked when Bunk or Em were coming over, he was not getting the normal dotting attention he was prone to and needed this remedied immediately.  Robs was in Chicago closing up RSNA.  We were in the truck, Girlfriend basically having a melt down, Cowboy about to join her in her ridiculous behavior ~ I could not drive fast enough up the hill.

"In the living room, now," I said, using my best Phyllis voice ~ it worked.  In spite of the alligator tears coming down her face and heaves that I might not have been able to match at my most dramatic moment and the eyes diving deep into the back of his head with every other gasp for air his sister made they sat on the couch, knowing better than to cross me when I sounded like Grams. I looked at them, trying to think of some brilliant parenting skill I had witnessed in my 24 years of life.  There had to be something that could calm them so that I could get something edible on the table, homework done, reading done, and have two sleeping children ... allowing me to accomplish some wrapping, card addressing, and finishing the decor prior to Robs return later that week. 

My time was running out, Girlfriends sobs began to get louder and louder and Cowboy was giving me the 'ready-to-bolt' eyes.  I turned around, hoping for some brilliant inspiration and found it.  The tree, with flannel ribbon, home-made ornaments, and prelit with white lights {we are a white light only family ~ racist, I know but in this case I don't mind and think my future constituents will not hold this against me}. 

Without words I laid down beneath the tree and then called them to join me.  Girlfriend did not hesitate, Cowboy was my skeptic.  But I gave the instruction again in Phyllis' voice and he joined quickly.  With me between them we observed the lights from below in silence.  I almost started to begin a lecture but stopped myself, it took serious self-control.  We just laid there.  With time her breathing became less labored and he stopped his heavy sighs.  Cowboy was always the cuddler and this moment proved no different, he cuddled close and took my hand to his head.  Girlfriend followed suit, flanking my free side and sliding my hand to her nose.

I then began to them about Sneaky, their elf who had started to watch the house the week before.  He followed them to school and he had left a note for them somewhere but I had misplaced it, I would find it after they went to bed.  CB had a million questions, GF soaked it all in.  After an hour ~ yes, an hour ~ both of the children understood Sneaky and his job with Guy up North and that they were being watched.  As we crawled out from under the tree Girlfriend said words that I will never forget nor will I let her, "Kas, sorry I was dramatic" ~ yes, they are taught the 'big words' and use them properly.  Cowboy then chimed in with his favorite word of the month, as taught by Bunk, "Yep, we need to be melo, super melo, Sneaky likes melo kids, huh Kas?"  I explained Sneaky wanted them to have fun and laugh and be crazy and dance and sing and enjoy the Christmas but he, like me and Mom and Mrs. B at school, needed them to understand when it was a good time for that and when it was not and not be 'dramatic' when it was not that time.  He understood.

As we knelt that night to pray, it was CB's turn I heard this phrase "And Heavenly Father and Dad, {they frequently included their Dad as a recipients of their requests, especially the important ones} can you help us know when Sneaky is watching?  And help him to only see us good, k?"  {Reread without an -r- ability and you'll get an idea of just how hard it was for me not to bust out in laughter and wish that Bunk or Em had been there to hear it.} 

Girlfriend and Cowboy: I miss you every day, some days more than others.  But go lay under the tree and be melo for a moment.  I'm certain Sneaky is still watching, he helped the Tooth Fairy get to your two teeth just the other day Cowboy.  Remember Dad and Mom are also watching, closely.  So Girlfriend, no need to be dramatic.  Or respond to Girlfriend's drama with more drama and eye rolls, Cowboy. I love you both ten bazillion Frescas and one Dr. Pepper.

Merry Christmas Girlfriend and Cowboy!!  I'll see you in January!

20...

'Caroling, caroling through the snow ...'

My first memory of caroling, vivid memory, was at the Cole's house.  We had cooked all day long special Christmas treats and had decorated homemade cards to take to the homes of our friends.  We got all bundled up and piled in the van, Buba couldn't have been more the four at the time ~ we had brave parents!  We drove from house to house, having conquered the neighborhood first and now off to ward members homes.  Please understand, our congregation met forty minutes away from our home, some of the members of said congregation lived fifty minutes away, and we had twelve plates of goodies to deliver ~ yes our parents were brave and we were in for a long night.  We sang in the car and played games as we made our way from house to house.  One of the last homes on the list for the particular evening was the home of the Cole Family, Bitzy's best friend Ali and her sister and parents.  As we pulled up the house was aglow with lights both outside and in.  Bitz carried the goodies but as we shut the car doors and started singing the lights in the house started to go off, then the lights outside.  We heard, "Quick, get down, carolers!"  Each of us looked to Pops for direction, this was not what we were used to ~ the Brelillatts and the Jacksons had just ooed and awwed over how adorable we were and how great we sounded!  Was this rejection?  Pops just sang louder and we followed his lead, he rang the bell.  We sang and sang, to this seven year old it seemed like an eternity.

But then, from somewhere close to the ground we heard, "Oh, its just the Frenchs!"  Within ten seconds all of the lights, both outside and in, had been turned back on and the family greeted us at the door with smiles and welcomed us in for a visit.  I did not entirely understand why anyone wouldn't want carolers at their door until I was older and realized the hospitality and such that normally followed the sung notes on the door-step.  And if you don't like the particular family or group ... well, tough cookies, you should have turned out the lights and hid! 

To the Coles and the other homes visited by the young French Family: Thanks for always letting us in, telling us how great we were, filling our cold bodies with warm coco, and asking for an encore of a {fun one} not the boring ones Mom loved so much.  And in particular, for turning the lights back on!!

Merry Christmas to the Caroling houses of my past!!

21 ...

My Grandfather and I have a special bond ... I'm his favorite, just ask him.  And one of my favorite things about Gramps is the Christmas Eve reading of the Christmas Story.  We all gather in the living room of whichever house we are at that year.  Mom and Dad sit, holding hands.  Aunt Laurel sitting in front of Uncle Matt, sharing the coveted Jelly-Flops.  Aunt Charma in front of Uncle Max, rubbing his feet. The cousins piled every-which-way on the floor, poking at one another and texting one another from across the room to comment on one of the ridiculous comments an 'adult' made.  The snow, if we have lived right, falling outside.  The lights in the room bright enough so that he can see the pages of the Good Book but dim enough so that the tree shines brightest.  Grams will have us sing a Christmas Carol, the youngest always asking for Rudolph or Frosty.  She grants their wish but then follows up with a request of her own, something more along lines of the Story about to be read.  We harmonize, usually a good four part, sometimes six if we are feeling adventurous {most of the time we are}, each of us taking in the portrait of our family as another year has passed.

Then he begins, his voice somehow surpassing its soothing tone of the year before.  The Story never changes, the angels, the traveling, the Humble Birth, the proclamation.  But somehow, each year, it is as if Gramps is telling it for the first and only time.  Sharing with us his belief in Jesus Christ, as our Savior and Brother, as those verses are recited.  The circumstance for the French / Mount family does not often change, the challenges that are ours are 99% of the time challenges we have already faces with another family member.  But somehow, Christmas Magic perhaps, Gramps offers himself to the Heavens, to the world, to us ... proving we've made it through once, we will make it through again.  If I close my eyes tightly enough I can hear his voice and see his face as he reads, "For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord," (vs.11).  Those words, read by my Grandfather each year and proclaimed by angels and shepherds and the humble parents of the Christ Child , are the words of Hope and Happiness for an entire lifetime.

So to my Gramps: Keep reading, read with your pauses and your frated words.  Read to us again this year as you did the last and the year before that.  Read to us, this year no more important than the last but just as necessary.

Merry Christmas to my Favorite, from yours!

22 ...

I'm not certain when the tradition began ... somewhere during the years when our movie selection was that of what Pops found at the library in the kids section, I'm certain of that at least.  Having four children within five years of one another certainly had its moments I'm sure.  One of the great things, I speak as a child not as the parent here, was Christmas though.  We liked each other a lot and managed to listen to the Last Straw {that's another post for another day} each year and it increased the peace in our home as we served.  The serving would end with straw and our traditional movie, "All I Want for Christmas."  Oh, you haven't heard of it?  No, this came out three years prior to Mariah's song. What, still unclear? That's unacceptable ... at least in our house.  We've introduced it to the visitors over the years, Pops even tried a few years ago to stay up and watch it with us ... but the four of us, Joshy, Kas, Bitzy, and Buba are the die-hards.  It doesn't matter the circumstance, whether we are up at the Lake or dealing with life ... the movie is shown.  And we laugh just as hard as we did the first time the mice are released and get just as excited as the ketchup's marry.  

There is something to be said for mindless traditions. Don't misunderstand, I enjoy our caroling Fullers {although they won't be there this year, tears} on Christmas Eve, our caroling to the Nursing Home, Gramps reading the Christmas Story, Silent Night on the piano releasing us from our room ... all clearly have a bit more of a foundation in the true meaning of Christmas.  But being with my siblings, my favorite people in the whole-wide-world, especially as the years go by and enjoying {in the midst of the chaotic world we find ourselves in} a mindless movie where good conquers evil ~ yes, it's in there ~ and everyone lives happily ever after ~ sorry to ruin the ending ~ is one of my favorite parts of Christmas.  Not to mention the ever adorable Ethan Embry.

Merry Christmas 1, 3, and 4!!

23...

It was that same winter in Cache Valley.  Stac and I had spent most of that late fall with Iceberg shakes in hand, I couldn't let the pregnant lady indulge her cravings on her own and B I think had already gained 7 sympathy pounds.  We were anxiously looking at the calendar each day, comparing the due date to the Eclipse calendar, hoping Brandon wouldn't be flying back from Sun Valley as water was breaking and heavy breathing commenced.  

I got the call from B, locally, and before I fell asleep that night Avery joined us here.  Her parents were ready for her but Stac was not quite ready for Christmas.  That next day, Thursday, as I sat in the hospital holding little Aves and chatting with the new mom we discovered her {the new mom} greatest anxiety.  Christmas had yet to be set up at the house, now she had a new baby {who we would later find out cried with the best of them and took up some time, willingly given by her loving parents} and would be going home to a Christmasless home.  I looked at Brandon as he walked back into the room and an unspoken deal was made.

I left the hospital and called Matt, the best Christmas House creator I know, and he jumped on board.  We went and got a tree and supplies, unloaded and spent the next several hours getting their home Christmas ready.  Matt would hand me things to unpack, I was good at this task.  He would drape the tree in ribbon and ornaments and give treatment to each area of the room, he was good at this task. With sarcasm dripping in his voice he asked if I would like to create the topper for the tree, silly Matthew.  As the white twinkling lights became our only source of light I was assigned my last job, unpacking the Nativity. With angel hair carefully draped on the coffee table he placed each character.  Then as I handed him the Baby Jesus he got that smirk on his face, I knew that smirk.  He stood up and hid the Babe in Swadling clothes, announcing that the Baby doesn't appear until Christmas, he'd let them know where it was when that time came.  Matt didn't often get that mischievous smirk but when he did I played along as it would usually create a story of stories to retell.

Stac and B and Baby Aves came home to a beautiful, if I do say so myself, house.  I spent many nights holding that little girl prior to going home for the Holiday, enjoying the beauty I had unpacked and Matt had created.  As I called on from the East Christmas day to wish my friends a Merry Christmas, both there in Logan and in Bountiful, my mind was far from the Baby hidden behind the candle on the shelf.  It wasn't until I returned and was helping Stac pack Christmas, I may have been holding Baby more than helping Mama but I can't change that now, that I noticed a completed but mismatched Nativity Set.

"Stac, what is this?" I asked as I picked up the unfamiliar Baby Jesus with my free hand.
"Oh, I had to get a new Jesus.  Ours was lost," she said very matter-of-fact.

Sad that my face can't hide a dang thing!  She responded to my look with "Kas?"  I took out my phone and called Matt, he could confess as I was an innocent{ish} bystander in this case of the missing Baby Jesus.  We all laughed, a lot.

So to Baby Jesus Snatcher and the Ellisons: Can we please have another excuse to be a bit closer during the Holidays?  Some of my favorite people you are but so far away.  Some of my favorite people you are but oh so busy.  I think decorating a tree ~ watching the tree be decorated while pointing out the holes in decor ~ and holding a new baby would be the perfect way to spend a December evening, let's put that in the plan for next year.  Matt, you're in charge of the child.  Stac, the decor.  Brandon, the proper location {which, if you aren't clear is not a 14 hour drive away}.  I will bring the shakes and empty arms for children.

Merry Christmas Christmas Creators!

24 ...

It was my junior year at Utah State. The snow had already been adorning the frozen winter ground in Logan for weeks this particular year.  I was in love with the magic that came to the valley at this time.  People in Cache Valley already had a kindness about them but during the time when Bing's songs play on the radio a bit more often and the lights downtown are on it is as if some magical smiley potion could be found in the water.  Everyone from professors, to students, to neighbors, to grocery clerks had the Christmas Charm about them.

I was down in apartment seven, the Gunnison/one boy from Evanston home.  These boys were always providing quality entertainment, seriously!  This particular evening midst the games and the laughter the balding one {I can't remember his name for the life of me!} began talking about their Christmas Tree Hike taking place the next morning.  I was, as I had been my freshman year at the thought of real hunting, astounded.  People actually go up into the mountains to cut down a tree? No lot with Santa and hot chocolate and snowmen pointing the way? They invited me to come along but I declined due to plans {had I known how rare this opportunity really was I would have gone}.  They did offer to bring me, apartment ten, that was Aubs and I, a Christmas Tree!  I took them up on their offer, obviously.

The next day I heard the boys get up early, well, early for a Saturday at Hillside apartments.  I peaked out the window to see them all bundled up with their carharts on and ginormous gloves, they were ready for an adventure.  I got up and accomplished the tasks on my TODO list while they were away, last of which was pulling out my Christmas decor.  My excitement bubbled over as I heard that old truck pull into the lot.  I ran out to the landing sans shoes, ran back in to put them on, ran back out to find Paul and Brent carrying a BEAUTIFUL tree up the stairs.  Baldy {said with love and a horrid memory} and Robert were taking the other tree into number seven.  As the tree was brought up they announced it would need to be trimmed again to fit into the apartment and furthermore the stand.  Before I could make the "Please-help-because-I-have-no-idea-what-I'm-doing" face Shorty {again, names are too quickly forgotten!} from number eleven came out with a machete, yes, a machete and started hacking away as if his life depended on it.  The scene I was witnessing I will never forget, it was a man in his element, being a man's man, grunting and groaning to increase the strength with which he was destroying this little bit of nature.  It was priceless.  After a few minutes he looked up at me and announced his completion, with a satisfied smirk {If I didn't know better, which I don't, I would liken said smirk to another satisfied smirk ... just sayin'}.

It wasn't until the tree was completely decked out, including the bow I ran through the block to have Matt tie after using the "Please-help-because-I-have-no-idea-what-I'm-doing" face and having him respond with the "Kasi-sure-is-incapable-face" {not incapable actually, I just knew his would be prettier}, the the Gunnison boys came to bask in her glow.  As we were sprawled out in our front room Brian {HA!! Is that really Baldy's name, it just came to me!} over-shared.  The rest of the guys kicked him from the couch while Paul flicked him off.  Apparently this beautiful tree that I had fallen in love with so quickly was stolen, that's right, no permits, from private property behind some barbed wire fences.  Laughter ensued, lots of it!, my squeaks, to Gunnison's snorts, to Brent's heaves ... we were dying! But as I looked back at her, that beautiful tree, I knew it was worth risking their clean criminal records for.

So to my Gunnison and One Evanston Hillside Friends and Aubs: That particular tree will always be my favorite as laws were broken in attaining it and made it all the more beautiful.  I wish you the beautiful snow of Logan outside and all the warmth, friendship, and love that were in those apartments that year this year and always.

Merry Christmas Hillside!

25 ...

Mrs. Volpe, with her long white hair wrapped back in a bun at the nape of her neck, had just informed us {via that mouth decked out in holiday cheer pink} that the elves had invaded the classroom as she walked us in from the playground as school began 3 December, 1990.  There were footprints and sparkly sites and candy canes and little notes in each out our boxes.  Kim and I ran to our boxes on our tip-toes and with a high pitched 'No way!' But Mrs. Volpe was not lying to us.  The elves had truly invaded class 105, tucked in the northeast corner of Lake Bluff Elementary school.  The Christmas season had begun.

For the entire month we wrote back and forth to our elves, careful with our cursive for our Christmas lists, minding our grammar as we described our families and our houses in detail so that they could pass the information on to The Big Guy, behaving like perfect little angels as they might be hiding in the tiles in the ceiling or behind a bush at recess.  It was magical and it was real.

My elf was named Larry.  He was shorter than most of the elves but worked the fastest with the hammer when creating the toys up at the north pole.  He could be found in his spare time at the theatre, Pole Performers Playhouse {now there is a bit more humor in that name but at 7 my innocent mind let it all exist without questioning}, he loved to sing and play on stage like me.  He also had an older brother but no younger siblings.  This was his first year coming down to Mrs. Volpe's class, other had been for years, but I was his first round-eared friend.

I remember our Christmas program from that year to be extremely nerve wracking.  Not because Daddy, Mom, Gramps, Grams, Uncle Max, Aunt Charma were going to be there ~ we performed in the basement each night for them with the occasional dramatic moment randomly thrown into the daily routine.  No, the butterflies were taking flight because I knew Larry would be watching.  As we stood in our classroom, all of us gussied up to the nines in our Christmas dresses and child of the late-eighties hair, we whispered about where the elves might be watching from and how happy they would be to hear us sing.  All of our eyes were pealed as we walked onto the bleachers and I'm certain that I looked like a tennis match audience member as I sang "You nauseate me, Mr Grinch, with a nauseous super-naus!" searching for those pointy ears that might have peaked out as his round-eared friend sang her part... nothing!

Getting into bed that night I remember a saddness came over me, it was 21st of December.  No more school, no more notes, no more elves, Larry had to get back up to the North Pole and I was left in boring Lake Bluff while he had all of the fun in the toy shop.  On Christmas Eve Daddy encouraged me to write another note to Larry, just in case he slid into the Big Guy's sleigh sneakily to deliver my Christmas.  Daddy has always been a smart man.  With the best cursive I could muster, elves only read cursive you know!, I wrote my final letter to Larry.  I sealed it with some glitter and left it near Santa's brownies {we French's know he likes the warm chocolate over a stale cookie any time but ESPECIALLY in that cold Chicago wind} and the reindeers carrots.   As all of us kids piled up in the girls room, we pile it up on Christmas Eve, I prayed that Larry would make it into the sleigh or that at the very least Santa would take my final letter to him.

Christmas morning I awoke much earlier than the rest of the house.  Buba was quick to join me but we paced the bottom four steps until we heard Silent Night on the piano, that was our cue.  We ran up the stairs to see that the Big Guy certainly knew our address.  It was in those first moments of awe that Daddy pulled me to the front door, where I saw those same footprints that had adorned our classroom over the first weekend in December ~ LARRY MADE IT!  He read my letter and made the Big Guy wait, almost ruining Christmas for the kids in Libertyville, while he wrote back.  He wrote about my song and how good I had been, how lucky I was to be in Mrs. Volpe's class and have great friends and family.  He knew me so well.

It's been almost 20 years since Larry and I last spoke.  His friends have visited my houses over the years, Sneaky was Eli and Cassidy's elf a few years back and he knew EVERYTHING.  Today though, as I begin my Christmas countdown I'd like to shout out to Larry:

I'm still a lucky girl.  The Big Guy in my life now has blessed me with an amazing family that remains constant in spite of challenges.  My siblings and I still pile together on Christmas Eve to watch "All I Want for Christmas" and awake at the first hint of morning.  My family is still, even moreso now than ever, supportive of my endeavors and schemes in life.  I've also been gifted with incredible friends, who remind me of you Larry.  They know me, they laugh with me, they laugh at me, we sing together songs from years gone by at the top of our lungs and likely off key but its fun and we giggle still, everyone needs to giggle. Life is great.  Hope you're having a grand time up there in the North Pole.  Mrs. Volpe, with that never-changing hair, is no longer teaching but Cass is in the second grade this year ... I'm certain she would love you and cherish the memories you create as much as I.

Merry Christmas Larry.

Really?

Yes, really.

And in other news ... I am in love with Christmas.  I know, I know, this is not a phrase I throw around, ever.  But it is the truth.  I was raised in a home with multiple Christmas trees and festivities beginning the day after Thanksgiving and ending only as the tree is brought down on New Years Day.  There is something about this time of year that makes everything a bit ... brighter ... specialer ... happier ... prettier ... sparklier ... you get the idea.  If you're looking for me during the next month or so I can be found beneath the tree, it's magical and right now, in this moment, I appreciate that very very much.

Giving Thanks

A few weeks back as I crashed another Hatch family dinner this article was shared, a great balance of hilarity and gratitude.

This morning as I laid in bed contemplating this day and all of my many blessings, of which I stand undeserving of, I've decided the list topper was that of forgiveness.  I am far from perfect, I speak before thinking, I act before contemplating and more often than not ~ as most nine year-olds also realize ~ this gets me into pickles of all different sizes. 

As this situation occurs more often than I care to admit, I contemplate the situation.  As the offender I realize I need to ask for forgiveness, not an easy task.  I spend more time than I care to admit contemplating the consequence of not asking for this gift.  I weigh the pros and cons and more often than I care to admit I bulk up the pros of keeping my mouth shut.  However, as the late hours turn into to early ones I realize that I've been ridiculous, prideful, ridiculous, prideful ... repeat as necessary ... and come to the conclusion that requesting forgiveness is my only option.

My family forgives quickly and loves all the more.
My friends more often than not laugh at how worked up I've become over the ordeal {which to them is far from an ordeal} and offer their forgiveness.
Now for the part which often stays reserved for late night conversation but today hits the blogging world.  As I turn to my Father in Heaven and plead for forgiveness for my stubbornness, my arrogant defiance, my lack of retention, I find the ultimate love and understanding.  He more than anyone could offer a lecture and turn His back on this girl.  He more than anyone could offer the evidence of a broken heart made such by the repeated lack of acknowledgment and understanding from this girl.  He more than anyone could look at me and create a further feeling of guilt and unworthiness in this girl.  But He, more than anyone, offers open arms and a heart full of love and understanding.  He looks at me and reminds me that this is merely a moment, that I will survive and even thrive if I will continue to look forward and move upward.  He offers the ability to be forgiven through his Son, my literal Savior.  I may mess things up, big time.  But He knows and He remains at my side, offering His love and His forgiveness.  Today I am most grateful for that.

Other things I'm grateful for ...

... memories.
... parents.
... grandparents.
... friends that are more like family.
... being called {Pretty Fairy Prinecess} by the nine-year-old boy while playing war, I may have let him win.

... my nicknamed friends.
... straight hair days.
... angelic sleeping children.
... snowball fights.
... adventures with Flat Stanley.
... being able to cry without questions.
... voicemails that are unexpected, undeserved, and understandable.
... children's laughter and dimples.

... snuggles.
... Christmas movies, Christmas lights, Christmas sparkles, Christmas music ...

Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours.

Reality...

... is real, profound I know.

ILYB ... Track 10.

House ... 609 scene 10.

SiS ...  Rainbow Room - Night.

That's all for today.

Doc and Pops

Today Pops had a doctors appointment, Mom joined him.

They were discussing symptoms and the doctor asked if there was any memory loss.  {Question for the doctors out there, don't you think this is a funny question to ask someone that wouldn't remember whether they forgot something or not? Just putting it out there.} Pops replied with a resolved "No," and Mom scoffed.  She then lovingly reminded him that maybe he does forget a few things and becomes a bit repetitive.  Pops, always a quick witted man no matter the dosage he may or may not be on, looked at Doc and said, "My kids just don't listen, I have to repeat myself."

He is a funny funny man!!  I'll try to listen a bit more actively Pops, it'll save you some time to get to the book of yours! In the meantime, I suppose I blamed a lot on you and Mom post-move and during those teenage-angst years, I guess I can take the heat for a little while!

Door's Open

Dear Laundry Friend {because you aren't comfortable with the word Fairy} ...

I'd rather have you here helping me deal with this ...

... than anywhere else.  Sure, I got used to sleeping on half a bed when I had a 6 and a 7 year-old crawling in with me when I had nightmares {yes, me}.  But I like my OWN BIG GIRL BED and this pile of clean laundry is just taking up too much room, I'm sleeping in Savasana {healthy sure but not my curled of ball of warmth}.

Every emotion I can fess up to,
Me

Out of Words

In all of the time spent with the Worthen family growing up we picked up a few things.  One thing that Dad used frequently in his house of theatrical children was Bishop's phrase "You're out of words."  This meant no more talking.  You would sit and observe, which was torture.  You could not add to the story, you could not one-up your sibling, you could not defend yourself after telling of said story ~ no, you sat quietly.

However in one facet of my life being 'out of words' comes naturally, that being the emotional facet.  The examples can start as young as seven with Ben Jensen ... I clammed up and family dinners when he slept over were never the same, silent Kasi proved quite dull but not nearly as annoying to my older brother and his friend I'm sure.  At fifteen as I heard the words "Kasi, I'll miss you" on the other end of line {on a phone from the theater because I would not dare say goodbye to him in person even though he was Ty and I was Kas and that fact alone should have justified a personal goodbye} I found my safe phrase, thank you, and ended the phone conversation.  At eighteen, after a summer of fun and intrigue, I used that same phrase in response to Adam. The examples are endless and not necessary as I'm certain this audience is either already aware of my inability or quick enough to understand.

Frequently my inability causes some serious problems in my life.  Several weeks ago CAs {the plural of this noun} decided that I needed an intervention, bless their sweet hearts.  By the end of the conversation I was convinced that I could say more than just thank you and had a list in my hand of topics too discuss.  They were convinced that this particular conversation, as opposed to all of those that they had experienced with me, was going to be a success.  D&K chimed in with support, convincing me that everything will work out.  The parental units offered up prayers I am certain.  And guess what ... everyone was right and prayers were answered.  It was in large part due to his candor and patience.  But I did not run out of words or stop the conversation prior to resolution, after two hours {time increased due to my need to process things} we made it ... and things are great, normal, standard.

Logically, one would think {that one being me and my support group, of which you are a part} that I could continue in this behavior of words, positive reinforcement.  HA!  There is no Halmark card to express my regret that my habits have not changed over night.  But I am an adult {yes Matt, I said it} and I have the ability, inspite of what comes naturally to me, to speak and to vocalize {without pitchy tones or witchy behavior} what I am thinking and feeling.  I do not need to be 'out of words' when emotional topics are brought up.  I say to the myself, to you, to the world ... I will use my words.

Having a Moment ...

... when we went up into tree and saw my newest Bikram yoga partner close to his death on the ground next to me.

... when Syd takes to him as quickly as she does to ice cream.

... when I walk into the 'Chastity Party' {yes, that's right, feel free to reread allowing that to fully resonate in you but that's what it was folks, a party for being chaste in my 27th year of life}. Yes, the sparklers were my token!

... when I came home and saw all of my laundry had been put away.

... when I had to say goodbye.

... when I discovered {add Gramps favorite expletive to gain the full affect} that I had been marked.

... when I relayed my frustrations on the way home and got all sorts of pitchy {to my own surprise but I'm certain not to him}.

Thanks to everyone involved in or causing said moments!  Who wants to go to CA this weekend and create a few more? Oh, me? Yep, sure do.

Tub-time

I have late nights and I do not mind them.  Last night was numbered among them.  I got in right before it became today and found my mind running in overdrive.  I tried to focus on one thing at a time but failed.  I sat down at the computer to put together one of my lists and even that wasn't working.  I texted CA and announced that although he was likely in bed I needed a voice on the other end of the line to ramble to.  Bless him.  After I listed everything, pretty equivalent to nothing in retrospect, he reminded me of a trick used while I lived up in the House on the Hill ... take a bath. I smiled.

There is something so simple about a bath yet it appeases the masses, from two days to two years to ninety, baths are brilliant.  I'm a bit weird, I shower before getting into the tub simply because I don't see the point of sitting in dirty water.  But after a day of life sinking into that ginormous tub with a book or Christmas music playing quietly makes things fall away and life is perfect.  Bath time makes me 'melo'.  The mere thought of it last night, as the digital clock flipped to an hour early hour, put my thoughts to rest and I found sleep.

Maybe I need a trip to CA simply for the tub-time that I love so much.  Good enough reason for me ... well, not this weekend but maybe the next and the next and the next and the next ... maybe I'll just stay for the tub.

Winning

I wanted one thing for the set of Hello Dolly that summer, a staircase. At first I hinted but my tact led quickly away from that manner of behavior to simply stating, multiple times a week, that I wanted a staircase. Victor had no feelings on the matter, he clearly understood the game before it began. The first few times I brought it up he laughed and would say, "No Kas, I win." Then on our way to Milwaukee to pick up a backdrop, he explained {attempting to convince me with his own logic} how it simply was not in the budget nor possible in the time we had remaining to create this dramatic staircase I saw in my mind, ending with "Kas, I win." I ventured a few days later to get him to give in, I pulled out all of the stops. His foot was down, nothing was working ... my 18 year-old mind could not fathom why he was not giving on this. But eventually, three days prior to opening, I accepted and began my pout and whiny stages of this journey.

Then, the morning of our final dress, I went up to the house before heading over to the theater. I walked in past Muffin, sleeping on the kitchen floor {I envied that dog for a moment, the kid production had closed five days earlier and Dolly was going up to an audience the next day and ... I wasn't sleeping much to say in the least}, and made my way downstairs. He had been up for a bit and was working on something. I asked what this creation was. He got this ginormous smile {similar to what you see to the left} on his face and then said, "Kas, you win." WHAT!? My brain wasn't comprehending anything. Then I saw it, A CHANDELIER, created by Adam. Sure, it wasn't my staircase that should have been built weeks before but it was the missing element I had been fighting for, somehow. "Kas, you win."

That is where the game began, as I was granted my first point. THANKS ADAM!!

So I keep score. Is it fair? No but as my Father has always said, "Life isn't fair kiddo." Do I keep score with you, probably. There are a few games in play that are not being played with me but rather in competition for as many of these points as possible. The men in my office are playing this version of the game. To the left of my computer I have a note with each of their names and each day they do what they can to gain a point on this board ~ its incredible what they have come up with as of late. Most games are between me and you. Ace is fighting hard now that he is aware ~ bless his heart, he still doesn't grasp the "Kasi Wins" part of this game. CA and I are laughing hysterically as his favorite phrase as of late has been, "Yes, you win." T is contemplating his points today, trying to decide if he is far enough behind to no longer try or close enough that a towel will put him over the top {I'm not opposed to giving multiple points for dynamic successful adventures}.

Kirst and Dave are actually ahead {along with Jonny} but they are a rare bread that I will likely, even as the 'winner', never catch up to. And Bunk is still earning points for this Halloween costume...

Do you think you're ahead in this game?

Things That Make You Go ... HA!

The men in my office are HILARIOUS!  Let's review why ...

"Maybe you should woman ... down!"
"I go home everyday Kas, that's still fun!"
"If you ever want to turn your bicycle into a tricycle, give me a call {awkward silence} ... "
"So really Kas, pregnant means ... well, pregnant."
"There's a difference between personal happiness and marriage happiness.  I ditched for marriage happiness."
"Not even amnesia can stop a woman's grudge!"
"Kas, if it can't be fixed with sex, it's not worth fixing."
"She's a leaner."

And today's token words as I came {'came' being the calm verb to underplay the slight scream and dance I did} into the office to find a mummy ... "Kas has a lot of issues, one of them being this mummy."

Thanks guys ... you're the best!

SNOW

Today it snowed and I will confess to the world that I loved it.  I needed a fresh start today, I needed to know that things can be laid to rest for a bit and come back bright and happy in five or six {sometimes seven in this chosen state} months.  I needed the reminder that Christmas and home are right around the corner bringing consistent nights of fantastic sleep, late night talks with Grams, laughable debates with Dad, therapeutic moments with Mom, and fun with the siblings and cousins {notice I did not mention the diatribe from the Uncles regarding my years of fertility as I hope this year will be the year they refrain}.  I needed the reminder that the office is merely a place to look out of the window and see the beauty.

 I drove home slowly and found myself in the midst of the canyon {clearly I took some side streets to the detour, I'm becoming more and more my Grandmother with each passing day}.  The snow was falling quickly and encompassing the world.  I pulled off to the side of the road and let my mind go to all of the places I would not let it go to during my time in the office today.  With this beautiful snow surrounding me I thought and then thought some more.  My mind went back to the talk I listened to while getting ready this morning, President Dieter F. Uchtdorf's talk from this past conference {I needed a bit of extra love this morning and his voice is as soothing as they come}.  I am so grateful for the morning reminder of what is truly important and the happy place I found replaying his words in my mind as I sat midst the snow.  I then started to count all of the wonderful things in my life ... I pulled out my handy card pen,  normally reserved for Hallmarks, and a trusty standby envelope {yes, I have those} that takes room in my center console and made my list.  It is long and I am undeserving of such an abundance of blessings.  

Then words from President Uchtdorf came dancing through my mind, "Though (you) are incomplete, God loves (you) completely." This is not new information but it found a safer place in my heart today.  I sat, smiling, looking as the dark world was covered in this beautiful blanket of whiteness.  Life is good and here are just a few of my reasons why ...


... Google Document Sharing
... Texts from Dad
... Sunday night Poe Readings
... Snow
... Flannel Sheets
... Jose
... Standing on Furniture
... Buba reading texts and keeping his mouth shut
... Falling Asleep on the LoveSac
... Snow
... Bathroom Talks
... Voicemails
... New Babies {Miche, I'm SO DANG EXCITED}
... Snorts
... Gunnison Boys Memories

... Snow


... Did I mention snow?  I love it!  Happy Winter!!

Falling for Me

This past week has proven quite an exciting one. With changes at work {my favorite change}, haunted dates leading to no sleep, long talks with my couple crushes about my life and love {to be posted about soon}, leaves, leaves, and lots of fun in leaves, standing on desks {in several locals} ... ect. ect. ect.Today I proved to myself that there is always one more thing I can do to add to the adventures of my little 7 day segments. Here is the play-by-play:

As I sat in the first hour of meetings this morning, in my cute leather jacket that I had just re-found only seconds before leaving the house {YAY! FOR REFINDING SUCH TREASURES}, I found my mind drifting a bit easier than usual but thought nothing of it. As we stood for the rest hymn it took me a moment to blink our chorister into focus but I managed and chalked it up to my consistent lack of sleep, making mental note that I should pop a pill and get some of that life giving stuff this evening.

During the second hour I found myself in and out of focus, which is normal when the teaching is a bit sub-standard but the teacher of today's lesson was brilliant and I was intrigued when I could keep up. I turned to my friend ~ bless his heart for joining me at Church today! ~ to make a comment but had forgotten what I was going to say prior to opening my mouth. "Kas, you okay?" I nodded, not paying attention to his concerned face. It took me two minutes to write a seven word note, indicating that I had to leave early to listen to a friend speak.

As I stood he grabbed my hand, shocking me as we are not hand grabbing friends, and that is the last thing that I remember. I HAD PASSED OUT. The next thing I remember was T over me, "Kas, Kas, Kas ... " There he was right above me, his voice the only in the room. My thoughts: Why in the heck {Sunday appropriate language obviously} is T about to kiss me in the middle of Sunday School? My knee hurts? Did I fall? Wait, did I eat breakfast? DAG BLASTIT, I did not eat breakfast. Wait, is the teacher not talking? My ankle hurts a bit. T, back off, I can't stand if you are hovering over my face! Oh, {reaching down to be certain that my universal underwear was not being shared with the room} thank goodness for graceful and modest falling! Although, I've never been graceful so perhaps I should thank T for keeping his friend modest. "Kasi?"

I then stood, noticed the road-rash on my knee {the Church loves that ultra-soft carpet}, took T's hand without questioning the fact that we had moved quickly into hand-grabbing-modesty-lending-support-offering friends. I laughed as we made the few steps to the door, allowing the room to laugh as well, because clearly they were waiting for some type of indication that this should happen as they sat in absolute silence watching the new girl and her friend leave the room, laughter quickly consumed the awkward silence.
We made it out into the hall and I told T that I just needed to eat, dang that hypoglycemia and my mindlessness in the morning. He was a bit more concerned than necessary, bless his heart, and insisted that he and D drive me to the chapel allowing me to eat as we drove and have my car. After a 'joyful' second sacrament meeting {in large part due to the speaker and choir but also due to the fact that I had a bit of healthy sugar inside of me} I went back out to the car and found D and T still there ... bless their hearts.
I chastised them as only they deserved only to hear, "Kas, you can't fall for anyone but you certainly fall for you pretty well!" They had worked on that the whole hour I found myself in the building ... so to you D and T: HAHAHA! To me: Eat breakfast. To the rest of the world: laugh! It was HILARIOUS!

PRECIACHA

Several years ago, as I proudly wore my KASI name tag on my bright orange EFY Counselor Polo, I was taught the word 'PRECIACHA' {known to the outside world at I APPRECIATE YOU}.  However, if said in a slightly nasally tone with a tongue click prior to the sentence, you sound fresh off the Bountiful Hills ~ and I say this with love as I clicked this week and have likely used 'PRECIACHA' in everyday language more times than I care to admit. 

As I end this day however there are certain people who deserve a loving and Hallmark inspiring 'PRECIACHA'

CA: {For taking my calls even after my outbursts}{For taking my calls at ridiculous hours}{For reminding me of the logical facts no matter my hideous excuses on the other end of the line}{For reminding me that its not all about me, at least right now}
HC: {For laughing and crying at the appropriate moments}
AS: {For letting me love your plans even though you did not}{For the reality of 'wasting pretty' ~ to be blogged about at a normal hour}

Yep.  I learned a bit in the last 24 hours. For example, Syd is the fastest and loudest at the downtown library and Tyson can pull off a fabulous PeterPan.  But my favorite piece of information was this fact stated about me at 4:00 in the morning as we sat in the car in the driveway: "Kas {and that was the proper name as things had been cleared up}, you are a dating machine and a kissing feen {which clearly I don't know how to spell even slightly as no correct words are even an option in spellcheck}."  Yep, there you have it ladies and gentleman ~ after everything ... now you know. 

Wait ... I Know You

Late last night after watching FlashFoward I realized this ...

Joe is Mark

          and

                   Mark is Joe








And that fact

        Made me smile

Blinding

I usually make faces when I hear words like this, "Kasi, he's great.  Just pick up the phone when he calls," or "We knew the first time we met him that he could handle you Marsha."  I don't try to hide the hesitation nor do I filter my thoughts. "No thank you ... I'm sure he'll find someone without your help ... I enjoy my random hookups with people you don't know and would like to keep it that way" and so on and so forth.

I made no exception about a month ago when this dude {because I'm throwing myself back into my So Cal talk for this evening} was brought up.  I said what I needed to divert the conversation and was successful.  So when my phone rang the next night with an unknown number I assumed as I normally do that it was one of my three International Travelers and answered with the happy tone, as there are several different tones {which Cassidy and Eli are best at identifying} I pick up the phone in.  It was not one deserving of said tone, it was Blind Date.  He was charming, as was told to me in the few 'Sell Him' moments I let my friends indulge in the night before.  I might have giggled like a girl once in the conversation and I found myself agreeing to his offer.

First date, in spite of where my mind might have been prior to, was fine.  Second date, WOW.  The man cheated.  I'm not quite certain how I feel about it as my feelings as of late have been ... well ... yep ... right ... for the most part ... exactly!  But I've got to give the guy credit, he did his research {explaining the high archive hit earlier this week}.  We started at Paradise, literally, for some soup. Then we simply drove up Sardine. 

I don't think I've ever been driven so slowly through that canyon, it was far from the glory days of arm rest shredding in the jeep, but much more enjoyable.  The colors were amazing and as the sun went down the beams of light hit in such an amazing manner, I had no words just pleasant 'hmms' and 'ahhs'.  I was content as we drove in silence, he was a bit uncomfortable with it as made evident by his constant glances and awkward throat clearing and I attempted for a minute to rejuvenate the conversation for him but I just found myself distracted by the beautiful earth outside the windows.  We stopped and walked for a bit, the crunch of the leaves wasn't quite as crisp as rain had fallen recently but it was still enough to smile and take that mental picture.

The point I am trying to make in a 'short story long' kind of way is simply this ... he clearly knew where to take me.  Between his time on the blog {which was also made clear as he brought things up that I had not discussed with him at any point and time} and his time probing our mutual friends {which they have confessed to}the man knew how to charm this girl.  I've got to give credit where credit is due and to this man I say, well done.* 

*I can't say more because, as previously stated, he reads the blog.