My dad's best gift ever.

My dad's birthday falls just three day's away from Christmas. Some would think that this would have been like winning the lottery as a kid. A stack of presents for your birthday, then a new stack of presents for Christmas. But somehow that was not the case, and his birthday got pushed aside for holiday parties and events. One year, all he wanted for Christmas was a shotgun -- but his dad told him that there was just not going to happen. Times were tough. My dad understood, but so bad did he want that shotgun. Christmas morning, at 1am, he and his brother Dave snuck upstairs to the living room to see what they had each gotten for Christmas. Days before they had tested each step leading from the basement to the upstairs for squeaks, and had memorized each and ever one. So, early Christmas morning they snuck up to the kitchen without a sound. Then low-crawled to the entry of the living room, and opened the pocket door -- taking great care not to slide it too fast. When they were at last next to the gifts, Dave could not believe his eyes. A sleeping bag! Just what he wanted. He opened it up right then and there and got inside. My dad was standing next to him looking the opposite way, toward his own gift. There, tucked between the cushions in the couch with a ribbon tied around it, was not a shotgun, but a rifle. Something magical happened in that living room, at just after 1am in the morning, as my dad got much more than he ever thought possible. For a boy, this was the gift of all gifts. A rifle.My dad sat and stared at that gun, shocked and beyond any sort of emotion that he had ever felt. It took him minutes to fully comprehend the gift, the sacrifice, and the love from his dad. There was of course no plan for going back down the squeaky stairs, the boys had only memorized how to get to the family room, and not back to their bedrooms. So, they spend the night squished in Dave's new sleeping bag. When the morning light filled the living room, my dad tried the best he could to show his father the same emotion he had felt hours ago when he first saw the rifle, trying to act like it was the first time he had seen it. But, that kind of emotion is hard to re-do. My dad still has that rifle, and listening to him tell the story last night on his 65th birthday brought all of us kids (and him) to tears. He only wishes...he had waited so his dad could have seen his face that Christmas day all those years ago...the day he got the best Christmas/birthday gift ever.

blue.

Blue is my favorite color. It is the mixed in every sky, and moves every sea, and is the color of wind -- if you believe. It is the color of eyes of those I love most. And shows up in the jersey's of my football team(s) of choice. Nothing is better that the big blue sky, out the windshield of a summer road trip. Or diving into the blue ocean one last time to ride a wave to the shore. "Blue Does" is my favorite song, sung by a band named "Blue October." Blue is the color of my favorite moon boots, now gone for good, that took me to school and back each and every winter day when I was a kid. It is the color of my favorite ice-cream, that nobody else seems to like. And blue is the color I painted my office when red was too intense. The day I told my family I was going to be a mom -- now over 12 years ago-- we were eating at the "Blue Bird" in Logan, and that was a day I will never forget. I love Ford blue, blue birds, bakery shoppe blueberry muffins, blue slurpees, and blue heelers. Blue is the shirt my husband was wearing the day he said good-bye to his horse -- his best girl of over 26 years. And clear blue is the ring I wear on my left hand-- my birthstone-- that reminds me every day why I love -- the color blue.

the short list.

I want an iPad2, new furniture (big new TV cause one is just not enough), the Hudson Pottery Barn bedroom set, several pair of new MEK jeans, new running shoes, some high brown leather boots, a Coach bag, a skylight for my kitchen, a Tebow jersey, a stack of gift cards to Tona, and oh ya, 600 count thread sheets. I would like all this, and possibly more. Every day my list of wants gets longer. I can't seem to go anywhere without seeing something I MUST HAVE!

But today, all of that seemed to change.

And my new short list emerged. I want good health for my best-friend-of-growing-up who in a blink of an eye has had her life turned upside down with cancer. I want happy memories for my dear friend who's brother was taken from this life all too soon.  And I want peace and comfort for my neighbor who lost her baby last night after only one week in this life...forever now her Christmas Angel...

If dollars could buy good health, or let us rewind the past and re-live our favorite moments, or once again smell the sweet scent of a new baby...I would give all I have to pay for the "short list."

luckiest day in 100 years.

Today, my favorite day in 100 years, I think about all the wishes I have made, living below the beautiful Ben Lomond Peak, and now behind her against Willard Peak I make wishes for my kids. Last month we hiked to the top of Old Ben. And I felt this tangible thrill, my goodness, I have waited so long to stand on top of her Peak, and look at the vast valley below. I pushed ahead of the group, and make it to the top first, and took a minute with just me and that lucky mountain. The one that protected me from the wind, caught my white bees in the winter, and colored the landscape in the fall. Standing on top of the mountain, I realized the triple vantage point of my hometown, my college town, and where I now call home. And then I looked up, to the massive sky above, and saw another vantage point, the one that God has over all of us, and knew, on that day, and today, the luckiest day in 100 years, that I was blessed and watched over.

critical advice

I am getting ready to have a few people whom I trust, and who are writers themselves, read the first ten chapters of my book. Or, if they are not hooked, maybe they will not read past chapter 1, and that is OK too. This is the phase of writing that really scares me, putting it all out there and possibly having people not like it at all. If it were fiction I could just change the characters, but because it is a slice of my life, the strategy will have to be different if the majority of the panel does not like the book. But, it I don't go through this painful step then how will I ever know if I have a chance at getting published? And that after all is the goal.

writing a book...

Each night I write after the kids go to bed. Lately it is all I am thinking about. I wish I could stay up for hours on end without sleep! For now though, I look forward to the weekends where I have a block of time that I can get the words out of my head and on the page. This weekend I printed out chapter 6, one of the ones I have been working on editing. Hayden, my 12 year old son, found the copy and read it. He said, "Mom! This is really good!!" Ahhhh sooo so so so so happy to have his opinion. He is the first one to have read any of it, and it meant a lot that he was moved and wanted to read more. Next step is to finish going through the first ten chapters, making changes and adding more dialog, then having a few people read it to see if it is interesting enough to keep them hooked.

my favorite quote

About a year ago there was a man in the paper who made this statement, "A book can come out of an image, a fragment of over-heard conversation, a musical phrase, some presiding anger...whatever it is, it is so evocative that you want to know why you are so moved. You begin writing." -- E.L. Doctorow

I taped it to my fridge, and I look at it each and every day. I can only hope that I follow the vein of the story and tell it in a way that moves others, and helps everyone see the white bees.

20,000 words done. 40,000 to go.