Loyalty Makes Us Family

Shannon and I have been friends for many years. I met her through my awesomely cool friend Lynnette.  Years ago, Lynnette, Shannon and myself gathered at the home of Lynnette's mom and we made jam. I didn't see Shannon after that. We didn't live in the age of texting or facebook. Although we were "friendly" we weren't necessarily friends. She was that "cute gal that made jam with me that I had a good time talking to" type friend.

Later, Shannon met Mark's brother Tim and their story was written. Shannon became family.

Without going into detail and revealing information that is none of my business to reveal, Shannon is currently separated from Tim and quite possibly looking at divorce.

Thus begins the topic of my conversation with you.

Tanna was a baby when I met Shannon.  After Shelby was born, Shannon and Tim were one of the first in the family to meet her. Shannon has sent me surprise gifts in the mail, spent vacation days visiting our family, moved to Utah to be closer to family. Jaden and Devin were born within 6 months of each other. We went to movies every Friday night for a few years. Spending every Saturday at the pool with the kids was routine. We have laughed and cried and yelled and then cried some more together. Our friendship has been tried and tested and we came out on top. We are sisters. I will say that again in case there is some kind of misunderstanding. WE ARE SISTERS.

I have anguished and pondered and worried and fretted about Shannon. Trust me. I understand divorce. Don't forget that Mark and I took a "break" for a few years while we tried to "figure things out."  I know that, at times, it is a better option for the parties involved. EXCEPT what about the rest of us? What about the family members that sit in uncomfortable silence waiting to find out what the end result is going to be?

A couple of Saturdays back, my super amazingly wonderful friend, Diane, brought me some chicken soup. Not just ANY chicken soup, mind you. HOMEMADE chicken soup with HOMEMADE noodles and hand cut veggies. OHMYHECK it was nummy nummy NUMMY!

Oh yeah. Back to Shannon...

Shannon happened to be visiting. Introductions were made between Diane and Shannon when I popped in and said something to the effect of "Shannon used to be my sister-in-law, but she is going through a divorce. She's not just a friend though. HEY! I know. She's the mother to my nephews."  Giggles all the way around. Guess what. Shannon thought and thought about that stupid statement and didn't like it.

I look back now and I understand why it hurt her feelings. She's not upset at me. She's upset at circumstance.

What happens when the Aunt to all your kids that has been to ball games and graduations and weddings and baby showers and hospitals and surgeries and Thanksgiving dinner and Easter Egg hunts can't come to family events any longer because of some STUPID technicality like different blood coursing through their veins?

Years ago Dawn decided that all the Deason girls needed to get together. Regularly. She divided us into partners. Dawn has Shelby, Carissa is with me, and Shannon is partnered with Tanna. Randi and her daughter, Camryn, are in California, so they have yet to experience the awesomeness of our group. Daulton and Diana and Denise have been added. Hailey has to wait until she is 16 in order to be inducted into TRUE Deason Chick-hood.

I created a Deason Chick logo. Everyone has their own personalized chick. Dawn's chick carries a purse and has high heels. Carissa's is dressed as a cheerleader. Shelby's has a flower in her hair and high heels to represent the ballroom dancer in Shelby. Tanna's sports a bikini and sunglasses. Daulton's carries a violin and is wearing a skirt and necklace and Diana's chick has a feather (Duh. She IS an indian after all) and a flower pot at her feet. Shannon is the cowgirl of our group so her chick has a cowboy hat and boots. I gave my chick boxing gloves. Denise just became part of our group so her chick is yet to be developed. I'll get busy making her a cool chick that represents who she is.

I put our logo on shirts and keychains, blankets and bracelets. I gave my girls Christmas ornaments one year with their own chick on them. My chick adorns my jeep in a hot pink vinyl cut out. Being a Deason Chick is a pretty cool thing.

We have camped together. Crafted together. Danced together. Got in a fist fight (I'm not lying) together. We have gone to dinner and plays and dance productions. We laugh and giggle and tell stories and laugh some more. It has bonded us in many ways that just "normal" family get-togethers could never have accomplished.

Last weekend the Chicks all gathered for steak dinner (thank you Uncle Mike barbecuing for us) and to attend a dance production in Salt Lake City. After the festivities, we had a sleep over at Carissa's house.

We were all in the front room chatting when Shannon shared the story of being introduced to Diane and how it weighed on her. She is worried that we are going to somehow forget about her or leave her out or let her go. NEVER. I'll just get that out RIGHT NOW. NEVER. I know she worries. I understand her concern. But I'm not the only one saying that it won't happen. We ALL agree that Aunt Shannon is a chick to stay. We love her. We need her.

Shannon made a pic that (I think) she keeps on her desk. It's a pic of all the Deason Chick gals at one of our gatherings. Shannon typed on the pic:

Blood Makes You Related. Loyalty Makes You Family.

I realize how difficult this is for her. This divorce is uprooting all that Shannon has known for many many years. I've stated that my family is a force of spirit. I have to say that the ENTIRE Deason family has strength beyond measure. Shannon is part of that.

Shannon will learn to fly with her own wings. I do know that. She'll find a rhythm and it will become familiar and safe. Time will pass and much of this hurt will fade. I know she doesn't believe in tomorrows' promises right now, but they will come.

I will find a way to make sure that she celebrates events with us. The most important task at hand is assuring Shannon and the boys that, although they feel displaced right now, they are Deason. And Deason's don't leave anyone behind.

Living The Legacy

If you were to go through the history of the Deason family, you will find generations of hunters and fishermen. This family loves the outdoors and hold an unfailing respect for nature.

This last weekend was the muzzle loader deer hunt.

What this means to our family is after a YEAR of preparation, talk, shopping, planning, all hour phone calls, map reviews, GPS-looking-ats and event coordination, the mighty hunters are off to stock the freezers for the upcoming winter and revel in all their manliness.

I'm not a hunt fan. Need I say more? I used to enjoy a tasty elk steak or venison roast but while pregnant with Jaden, I cooked myself up an elk steak for lunch one day. I ate about three or four bites when my stomach began rumbling. After a few moments, I began vomiting profusely and continued to do so for three days. Much to Mark's chagrin, I no longer enjoy elk or venison of any kind. I don't touch it, cook it or eat it. Nope nope nope. Ain't gonna happen again. Ever.

My boys are all big hunters. During one of the strategizing/planning meetings, the Deason men decide if they are going to muzzle loader hunt for the year or if they are feeling the urge to sneak around and hunt with a bow and arrow. I prefer the bow hunt. It is in August. MUCH warmer than the end of September muzzle loader hunt when it inevitably snows on us and I complain and freeze and complain WHILE I freeze.

Mark developed a love for the outdoors at a very young age. Grandpa Jack was a big hunter/fisher and did a swell job of making sure that his off-spring knew how to take care of themselves in the great outdoors.

I remember the family gathering for BIG family hunts in Montana. We lived in California. Would that stop Mark from answering LOUDLY to the call of nature? No way. We would load our family up with Dawn, Mike and their kids and off we went to Arasta Creek, Montana. Little kids. Tents. Lots of dirt. Warm clothes and plenty of excitement to spare.

The men hunted. The women cooked and kept camp and monitored the kids while they investigated and scouted and practiced for the "show" that they would be performing after dinner. Tyson would watch in disdain while the other kids would practice their song and dance. My niece was the ringleader for these performances. She would line the kids up and give them all their cues. They learned VERY young that they could charge an entrance fee for these shows and people would pay BIG money to see the kids in their mismatched clothes singing monotone (Goose), dancing on logs and bouncing to the beat of the song in their head.

This last weekend Dawn and I were talking about our family hunts. Remember how Uncle Paul would set up camp before we got there? He would build chairs for the kids out of logs. He built a potty, a shower and a kitchen. The wood was gathered and split and a firepit was made. He was the patriarch of our family and we didn't want for anything.

Mark is venturing into the patriarch role. He loves the hunt and the camping that goes along with it. He has worked hard to teach his kids to respect nature and experience all it has to give. He plans and gathers and prepares all for the benefit of the family he so loves.

The hunt this year was not as well attended as I would have hoped. Schedules are busy. I get that. BUT we as parents are passing a cherished memory on to our own legacy. I told Dawn that I FEAR that when we "big kids" leave the earth that the Deason hunt/family reunion will subside. It frightens me. It worries me.

Ray Bradbury said:

Everyone must leave something behind when he dies . . . Something your hand touched some way so your soul has somewhere to go when you die . . . It doesn't matter what you do, so long as you change something from the way it was before you touched it into something that's like you after you take your hands away.

So we will leave our gift. My hope is that our kids, our grandkids and the generations to come will hold tightly to it; that the Deason legacy will continue.

I Think It's Going To Rain Today

Oh! the things I have thought of to blog about over last couple of weeks. I haven't dropped off the planet! Promise. Just been crazy busy with work and yard-scaping and funerals (yuck) and family events (Hailey turned FOUR) and etc., etc., etc.

I have had ideas to write about. I've gone over words. I've almost decided to write about one of the different topics that seems anxious to get out of my head. However, I'm not going to write about a single subject that has crossed my mind.

I'm going to write about me.

I have been diagnosed with a rare brain disease called OPCA. According to the National Institute of Neurological Disorders and Stroke:

Olivopontocerebellar atrophy (OPCA) is a term that describes the degeneration of neurons in specific areas of the brain – the cerebellum, pons, and inferior olives.

In other words, my brain is slowly going to quit working. If all goes the same as other patients, I'll eventually land in a wheelchair and lose ability to speak, etc. Life expectancy? They say 15-20 years from diagnosis.

Worse things have happened to better people, right? Ugh. I still get a stomach ache when I think about my future. It freaks me out that there is a 50% chance that my kids will have it. I know all the right words. "You didn't know.", "It's not your fault.", "They are not mad at you." I still feel guilty. I still feel overwhelmed with sadness. I still wish that I could take the worry and fear and stress and dissolve it into nothingness.  I just feel guilty.

From the time I was pregnant with Goose in 1986 until just after Tanna was born in 1989, I lived in Ojai, California. I LOVED it there. One of my favorite people in the ENTIRE world is Michele Skankey. I met her in Ojai. Michele, her husband Wayne, Mark Deason and Mark Allman were in a band together. Her boy Nathan is the same age as Tyson and she and I were LARGELY pregnant gals at the same time with Casey and Goose.  Michele can sing. I don't mean just carry a tune. She can SING.

Back on subject

In 1988, the movie Beaches came to the theaters. Because I LOVE Bette Midler and because it's a perfect chick flick and because I needed to get the crap out of my house, Dawn, Michele and myself went to see Beaches. I'm getting old and there MAY be other gals that went, but Dawn and Michele have stuck in my brain as my sisters in crime for the event.

Loved it. Sappy. Sweet. Predictable. Emotional. LOVED it.

IMDb describes the movie as:

A privileged rich debutante and a cynical struggling entertainer share a turbulent, but strong childhood friendship over the years. 

I suppose that is a decent synopsis of the movie. The debutante, Hillary, is played by Barbara Hershey and Bette Midler embraces the character of C. C. Bloom as an entertainer in every degree.

In the movie, Hillary is diagnosed with viral cardiomyopathy. This requires a heart transplant if she is to live. Having a rare tissue type, she realizes she will most likely die before a heart is found. Hillary is sitting in a medical reference library when the Bette Midler begins to sing "I Think It's Going To Rain". The song wraps up with Barbara Hershey staring blankly ahead as she is struck with the gravity of her illness.

This scene has always stuck with me. It seemed so sad. I used to wonder what it would feel like to hear the words that your life has just changed enormously. When I learned the wheels were coming off my own bus, that song is the first thought that went through my head. It thundered like a freight train. Trust me.

I searched and searched for the version I wanted to post. I found a direct link of the song from the movie, but it is poorly made. I settled on this one. Not happy with the "look" of it, but the sound is more clean with much less background noise.

I have always taken pride in being a "smart" girl. I've always been independent. I HATE asking for help and will find every avenue possible to avoid asking.

It stinks that it has become necessary to ask for help with something as simple as walking on uneven ground or maneuvering up and down stairs. I am angry that my family automatically waits for me and lifts their arms for me to hold while I shakily walk and THEN I'm angry if they don't and I have to ask them for aid. I see people playing basketball or running or biking or dancing and I'm jealous. I mark days in my mind when I say "I'll never do THAT again."  And it makes me sad.

So many people have shown me love and support. I am such a lucky girl. I have never denied it. I am surrounded by friends and family that love me EVER so much. I have received calls and cards and messages and offers of help and thoughts and prayers all to ensure that I know that I'm loved and that they are so very worried about me and my family. Me too. 

So, yeah, right now I'm angry and sad and frightened. I'm getting pelted by rain and can't move fast enough to escape. Instead, I have to charge into the storm with fists held high and pray that I find the courage to fight the good fight. And win.

Be Careful What You Wish For

I have a lawn to mow. Dog poop to scoop. Laundry to do. Walls to wash. Rooms to vacuum. Instead, I felt magnetized to my computer. To my blog page. To this posting.

Somewhere in all my "words" I have found a sort of therapy in writing. I think it's just getting stuff out and letting go, but whatever it is, you're cheaper than therapy and I don't have to hear how messed up I am. Win-win for me! And since you are cloaked in anonymity, I don't have to be embarrassed by my thoughts. Chalk up another win! AND you don't have to read my ramblings if you so desire. See? We ALL win. I get more wins, but it IS all about me anyway, right?

A disease runs dominantly through my biological mothers side of the family. It's a disease that hits your brain. It's called OPCA and I have been showing symptoms of it over that last few years. Little things. I don't run any longer. I can't. My body doesn't work that way. I stammer in my speech. It requires cognitive thought to master stairs. Blah. Blah. Blah. The list is long and cumbersome. In the whole scheme of things, who cares? It wasn't like I was some high jumping, run everywhere kind of girl to begin with. Right?

Who needs to close the garage door and try to jump over the sensor just to end up ramming their head into the garage door and rocketed to the ground so hard that their body bounces upon landing and looks around to make sure NOBODY has seen the theatrics and climb humbly into their jeep humiliated beyond words and then tells the family to gain a bit of sympathy and have to leave the room because they are laughing hysterically at you? Not me. I don't need that.

I went to doctor and was referred to the University of Utah to be seen by a neurologist. I had to gather all my medical information that I could find, fax it over to them, then a team of VERY qualified doctors go through the cases and the physician best suited to take your medical dilemma gives you a call and gets the ball rolling. Doctor Summer Gibson is my new best friend.

Young. Smart. Empathetic. Did I mention she was smart?

My family attended the appointment with me last Tuesday. I'm not sure if the office workers were prepared for the Deason entourage. There was standing room only as I spent about an hour with her asking me all sorts of questions and then pushing here, pulling there, "let me watch you walk", "can you feel this", "can you do that".

I kept my eyes focused on her. At one point when I "performed" poorly on a test, I glanced over to my family. I lost it for a minute. I hate seeing the fear in their eyes. I DESPISE that I am putting them through the pain associated with my ability to do less and less.

When the doc was done questing and testing, she said "Although you show many symptoms of OPCA, you have many that are not classic OPCA. You have symptoms of other brain diseases." I wasn't prepared for THAT statement.

I have dreaded getting an actual diagnosis of OPCA. It's such a nasty disease. But when I asked what she might be looking for, her only response was "they are diseases you don't want to have." Ugh.

I left with even MORE questions and less answers.

So I have cried and worried and fretted and raged and pondered and wept and hoped and believed in better this week. I have tried not to feel guilty when my family struggles or cries or yells.

I haven't been afraid of much in my life. I fear this. At times I am frozen with fear. I learned to fight many, many years ago. I'll continue fighting. I need my family and loved ones to know that. To believe that I won't give in. I still dream of a fairy tale ending that finds me old and feeble watching my grandkids rule the world. I plan to be a "based on a true story" event that requires good popcorn and a large coke.

How Great Thou Art

I saw this performance on the Country Music Awards last year. I fell in love with it. I put it on my Ipod. I ALWAYS have my Ipod on shuffle so when this song "magically" appears I pause whatever I'm doing to hear every minute of it.

I am not outwardly religious by any description of the word. Denise used to tell me that I walk a "fine line between class and white trash". I thought that was HILARIOUS but then she would say "Whenever I need spiritual advice or comfort you are the one I turn to".

So I assume that spirituality is somehow an ingredient in my melting pot of emotions.

I do know that this is HANDS DOWN my favorite religious song. The one thing I miss from my daily Sunday ritual is the gospel music.

Last weekend Mark took me on the motorcycle. We left Provo, went to Wallsburg to visit Rays' grave and then headed on to an adventure.

I love to ride the motorcycle. I love the sun. I love the wind. I love the smells. I love the freedom. I love the alone time with my husband. I have secretly desired a motorcycle of my own. I make do with the top off my jeep and a seatbelt securely around my waist. With all the texting and driving going on I worry that Mark is going to be hit by some dork who isn't paying attention to the road.

Off my soapbox and back to what I was writing about.... (Put the phones DOWN people).

We left on our little expedition. BEAUTIFUL.  We wound through mountains. Past Lakes. Stopped at a waterfall.

B E A U T I F U L. Again.

Sigh. How do I describe it?

Fast forward to this last week.

Dawn took me on vacation. She decided that I need a bucket list and she was going to contribute things for me to do. So she rented a car and took me to Southern California and up the Pacific Coast Highway.

B E A U T I F U L

Our first stop was in Vegas. Mark had taken his motorcycle down to Vegas. He wanted to avoid I-15 so he took the scenic route.  He meandered through Zions National Park. Across Devils Backbone. To the Grand Canyon. He was on the motorcycle 15 hours +.

Dawn is married to Mike (who is my age) and Mark's brother as well. Mike drives long haul and planned a run in his rig through Vegas. He was able to meet us there as well. We all dressed in 1970 attire and hit a nice dinner. I think Gerald celebrated his 40th in style and surrounded by many people he loves.

Sunday morning Mark headed back on the bike, we dropped Mike at his rig and headed off on our adventure to Cali.

The car was filled with girl talk and laughter.

Our first stop was in LA where we roomed across from Disneyland. I haven't been to Downtown Disney before so we shopped and ate and ended our evening with fireworks from the theme park.

The next day we went to Catalina Island. When I grow up and become rich and famous you'll be able to visit me there. I was BORN to live on a beach. Extra sun. The ocean. Sand. People. Shopping. What more can a girl ask for?

The following day ended in a Dodgers game. I WAS SO EXCITED! Witnessed a home run in the first inning by a Mets player and then cheered the Dodgers into victory.

FINALLY I have arrived to "why the crap did she title this blog How Great Thou Art and then write about vacation getaways?"

Dawn and I jumped in the car and hit the Pacific Coast Highway. Every turn we made one of us stated "This is the most amazing thing I have ever seen." It was so pretty. I LOVE THE OCEAN. If you haven't seen the ocean through Northern California? Get in your car and start driving until you hit the PCH. You won't be disappointed.

Goose asked me a couple of weeks ago if I believed in God. I paused for a moment and answered as honestly as was possible with "I don't know."

I still don't know. I see the beauty that surrounds us. I think we are so fortunate to live in a country that is so diverse in nature. I think it's amazing that we can see the ocean and put our toes in the water and then drive 30 seconds and smell the fresh scent of pine trees because the mountains are looming in the background.

When we passed through Carmel, we happened upon the Tour d'Elegance. Pebblebeachcouncous.net describes it as:

The Pebble Beach Tour d’Elegance presented by Rolex is an annual driving event that delights entrants and spectators alike.  

Initiated to showcase the elegance of the automobile in motion, the Tour also underscores the early history of the place that is Pebble Beach. Decades before golf links were laid out along the edge of the Pacific Ocean, this area was known for its scenic drive, winding for miles through pine and cypress forest, dancing alongside dramatic cliffs and leading, ultimately, to a beautiful crescent-shaped bay. 

The traditional Tour traces portions of the original 17-Mile Drive, traverses nearby mountains and valleys, and pauses for a time in charming Carmel-by-the-Sea. This year, for the first time in 10 years, the Tour will add a lap around Mazda Raceway Laguna Seca. Tour participants enjoy a catered gourmet lunch, a champagne celebration at the finish and commemorative gifts. 

We found a parking spot and made our way to the cars. The owners were in having their lunch so the cars are lined two deep through the district on both sides of the road. They are all vintage vehicles restored to their original grandeur.

It was at this time that I contemplated the abilities of man to create wonder. If God created Man in his own image, makes sense that we can create beauty as well, doesn't it? I found beauty in the art from the street vendors in Sacramento. The architecture throughout California left me breathless. The engineering of the Golden Gate Bridge is astounding.

So, Goose, I think I wasn't entirely truthful with you. I believe in "something". I believe mostly in humanity, but I choose to believe that our intelligence and our desire to create beautiful is a gift from a higher power.

Therefore, when you see something beautiful...when you do something amazing...when astounding surrounds you...pause and think "how great thou art."

Written In My Heart

A few years ago I did a breast cancer picture and titled it HOPE.  On the picture I put a quote from Norma Vincent:

What is hope? Hope is wishing for a thing to come true: faith is believing that it will come true. Hope is wanting something so eagerly that – in spite of all the evidence that you're not going to get it – you go right on wanting it. And the remarkable thing about it is that this very act of hoping produces a kind of strength of its own. 

I don't have faith in many things. Is that jaded? I don't know. I've found in MY life that just sitting and believing that something will come true doesn't seem to do me a lick of good. I'm sort of the "go out and get it" kind of gal. So I hope for things and then I go out and get those things. It wasn't until I read this quote that HOPE made so much more sense to me. The final sentence that states "the very act of hoping produces a kind of strength of its own" is what nailed it for me. 

I think we all hope for "a better tomorrow".  I think that hope is what gives us the strength to go out and create our tomorrows. I have had a couple of weeks filled with dread and worry and fear. I have let my strength ebb and hopelessness has filled up the empty spaces in my heart.

The other day a friend of mine shared:

Whether we like it or not, hope is written so deeply into our hearts that we just can't help ourselves, no matter how hard we try otherwise.

This simple statement has helped me "draw up my bootstraps" and get the fight back in me that I need in order to end the fear induced paralysis within me. I don't just hope for change anymore. I have gathered my strength to cause change. It's in ME to do it. Therefore, it WILL BE DONE.

Whimsy

A couple of weeks ago, Jaden, Daulton, Shelby and myself were in the jeep headed to the store. Because it is dead of summer and because I don't have an air conditioner and because I WORSHIP the sun, my top is off my jeep. Everywhere I go I feel the wind in my hair and the sun on my shoulders. Everyone complains about the heat. I don't. I love the sun. The hotter the better. I'm so happy in this weather!

Okay. Back on track. We were driving down the road and a sprinkler was spraying into our lane. There was nowhere to turn, so we went through it. We all screamed and ducked and got hit by the water. Then we laughed out loud.

Of course it triggered thoughts in my head.

Diana is a GREAT mom. When she has the kids they always look as if they stepped out of a magazine. Perfect hair. Perfectly matched clothes. Clean. Okay, let's be honest here, those two kids are the STINKIEST kids. Ever. But their cuteness makes up for the natural odor that befalls them, so it's an even trade.

Bill and Haily get dropped off at Grandmas house and if Diana and Tyson have learned anything about parenting, they have learned not to put the kids in their nice clothes when they visit me. Shoes are optional. A messy kid is inevitable.

We walk in the mud puddles. We dig in the dirt. We plant flowers. We weed the flower beds. We play in the sprinkler. We eat Otter Pops until the juice is oozing out of our t-shirts. I'm happy. They are happy. Win win situation.

Do you remember being a kid? Do you remember running and playing and laughing and shouting and dancing and singing without a care? Going through the sprinkler made me think of that. Watching the joy that Hailey and Bill show when they walk with me THROUGH the mud puddles instead of around them warms my heart clean through to my soul.

I said it before in another blog:

I'm not old (yet) but my time of wishes is more behind me than in front of me.

There will always be gardening and housework and bills to pay and dishes to wash and laundry to do and windows to wash. BUT I refuse to become stuffy and boring and grown up. When I can I will find that moment of whimsy and embrace it. I'll jot it down in my happy book and remember that moment forever.

Here are some things I highly recommend:

• walk through the mud puddle  • sing out loud • take your shoes off and feel the cool grass between your toes • put on that swimsuit and go to the pool. Listen to the pure joy that the kids share naturally • eat Otter Pops • buy some Converse tennis shoes and ROCK them. If you REALLY feel adventurous buy them in a blue or red or purple or multi color. Just wear them • walk through the sprinklers that cross your path • eat with your fingers. Don't even get out the silverware • skip rocks at the lake • turn off the air in your car and roll down the window • lay on your back and count the stars or make shapes out of the clouds or watch fireworks or make out with your soul mate. • talk to your kids about trivial-it-doesn't-really-matter stuff (because it really DOES matter most in the end) • play hopscotch or jacks or jump rope or hula hoop or kickball or Speed or tag or hide and seek • eat bubblegum and blow a REALLY BIG bubble • get in a food fight until your clothes are covered in mashed potatoes • make your kids roll their eyes at you • say "I love you" a lot

Forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair. ~Kahlil Gibran