The poetry of strangers

I love reading blogs. When I find  blog I like, sometimes I'll check out their blogroll to find other blogs I like. Then I can delve into the glamor of a stranger's life. Even humdrum things aren't humdrum on a blog.

The plants I bought are still sitting on my kitchen window sill. It's still too cold to plant them outside. Even though I see them every day, I still forget to water them. They're looking a little dry today. But one of them is growing  a strawberry. A window-sill strawberry. How's that for poetry?

And now I'm off to read Puck of Pook's Hill. I think it's high time I read some Kipling.

Almost Free!

I read this blog, that is having an amazing deal coming up on May 4. Check it out. I'm excited about the fabric posters you can just stick on the wall.

It's been a long time coming.

Once upon a time, while driving to a young women's activity, I saw a hutch sitting in a front yard: 25 dollars. How could I not?

The only problem was: it was ugly. It sat in my kitchen for over three years and I never liked it. So...

I finally got around to refinishing it. And you know what? I kind of like it now. Which is good, since I definitely need the extra storage in my kitchen.

It's 11:42...

and I can't sleep. This happens every month. It's what happens when you cram a months' worth of conversation and social stimulation into one evening.

Yes, book club.

It's a big deal. You don't miss book club, unless you're in the hospital or, at the very least, your baby is. I think that's the last time I missed, at least. Tonight we talked about the book, of course, and remodeling, pros/cons of sitting versus standing while peeing (husbands and sons, of course--we all sit), lack of privacy in the bathroom, and a house somewhere in the area (maybe Hooper?) that, in the transition area between the dining room and the family room, has a bathtub sunk into the floor. Not in a separate room; just right there in the middle of your living/entertaining area. A bathtub. Can you see why book club is so great?

So, I'll catch up on my blogging. I plan out lots of things to blog about, and then it never translates to my keyboard. It's hard to sit down and think something out, let alone type, when I have two monkeys who think mom sitting still is a jungle gym.

Last month I stepped in and taught the March presidency message for our second counselor. I needed a place to take notes and pulled out an old notebook I've had for a long time, and it was full of notes from Institute classes, general conferences, etc. Also a cringe-worthy few pages about an unfortunate crush I had once. Why couldn't he just see that we should be together?

For the record, I am now very glad that he couldn't.

Anyway.

I found this quote from Joseph F. Smith. I read it, once upon a time, when I had time to think, and I wrote it in a notebook so I could find it in a spare few minutes, years down the road.

After we have done all we could for the cause of truth, and withstood the evil that men have brought upon us, and we have been overwhelmed by their wrongs, it is still our duty to stand. We cannot give up; we must not lie down. To stand firm in the face of overwhelming opposition, when you have done all you can, is the courage of faith. The courage of faith is the courage of progress. Men who possess that divine quality go on; they are not permitted to stand still if they would. They are not simply the creatures of their own power and wisdom, they are instrumentalities of a higher law and a divine purpose.

Gospel Doctrine, p. 119

My senior year in high school I took a conditioning class. It was full of sports people and such. My friend Joee convinced me it would be fun. Running and weight lifting: whee! This was out of my comfort zone; it's only been the last couple of years that I've been able to maintain any sort of modest running regime. One day we had to run a mile and a half. I'd never run that far before, and I was sure I couldn't do it. It was too far. I was too tired.

And lovely athletic soccer-playing Joee stayed with me. "Once you stop, it's harder to start. It's easier to just keep going." And I finished. Very slowly, but. I didn't stop.

Sometimes I think it would be nice to stop. "Stop the world--I want to get off." I think that's a quote from somewhere. (Google tells me it's the title of a 1962 Broadway musical, of all things.) I'm good here, I'd like to just stop and catch my breath.

Too bad it doesn't work that way. Before one thing is quite finished, it's on to the next. I guess that's what President Smith called the courage of progress. Faith is progress. Your lungs may be burning, but it's easier if you don't stop. Maybe you can grab a drink at the next plateau. I guess Heavenly Father probably knows what he's doing.

Dear kids in ten years,

This is the Ogden Temple I remember.

We went the last week it was open to take a few pictures. I'm not terribly upset that it's being torn down and rebuilt, but I did get a little sentimental. It's not a beautiful temple on the outside. I never really liked how it looked. But it's got a beautiful symbolism: a cloud by day, and a pillar by night, as the Israelites were led in the wilderness. And the inside had a classic understated beauty that I learned to love as I got older.

This has been my temple my whole life. This is where I first did baptisms for the dead (always, always with a trip to Farr's afterwards for an ice cream cone). When my sister got married here I began the tradition of floating my shoes in the fountain. I was a bored 14-year-old, what do you expect? Except for Brady's wedding, that's something I have done at all our siblings' weddings, including my own.

It's the temple where I wanted to go through for the first time, but it was closed for cleaning. I had to "make do" with Salt Lake. And it's the temple your dad and I have been coming to for the last five years, since we moved from Logan. It's where I knew our first baby was a boy, and it's where I knew it was time to have another baby.

I know the new temple will be beautiful, and I'm excited to watch its progress as it's being built. But I have beautiful memories of the old Ogden Temple, which no wrecking ball or bulldozer can take away. So, kids, remember: It's not the appearance of the building, but the Spirit which resides within, that makes a place holy.