Super Hero

I heart weekends. A lot.

I have a nephew who will be leaving to serve a two year voluntary church mission in just 10 days. That is not a lot of days. But, he has been preparing for this mission for 19 years. 19 years=6935 days. That is a lot of days, but still not enough to prepare for a two year goodbye.

He is the oldest nephew on my side of the family. And he is awesome. He loves a lot of things- is passionate about a lot of things- I love his enthusiasm for his passions. He is a drummer. An awesome drummer. And he plays the piano. Awesomely. And he likes to hang with his old aunts and uncles. Which is awesome.

He has some new glasses that he believes make him look a little like Clark Kent. I must say that I agree. I think Clark Kent could be considered a Super Hero, which is perfect- especially in the case of this nephew. Definitely a Super Hero.

This weekend was especially meaningful because we celebrated one of the most favorite of favorite Christmas traditions. And this will be our last time to celebrate this tradition with our awesome nephew for two years. It was our annual desert bonfire party.

Oldest daughter and me as the evening was getting underway

So, we lit the desert bonfire and gathered around and shared dinner, stories, songs and tender feelings. Each member of the family who has already served a two year mission shared memorable stories of Christmases spent in the mission field, in honor of the nephew's upcoming departure.

And then the nephew shared his feelings about getting ready to leave on his amazing adventure. And of course, we cried. And marveled at the maturity of our cute nephew. He is going to be one awesome missionary.

the nephew, in Clark Kent glasses, sharing his feelings

And then, middle daughter requested that my oldest sister recount her very own personal experience of witnessing Santa Claus's boot as he exited our home via the chimney when I was just 4 years old. This story is legend. It never ceases to mystify my children.

And then we returned to the business of celebrating the nephew and the choices he has made in his life which have led him to this point. He has set a tremendous example for his cousins.

I am excited for my nephew. He has the gospel of Jesus Christ to share. For two whole years. 24/7. For many in Latvia, this means they are about to meet someone who just might become their Super Hero. Luckies.

True Confession

I have been told that I do not post enough pictures of myself on this blog. And so, this afternoon I went on the hunt for a suitable picture. I came across this beauty. A portrait the likes of which have never been equaled- unless you lived in the 90's, then maybe you have an equal, or at least a rival. And thought that I would post it. Because, I would rather be embarrassed for my past appearance than for my current one.
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And so, without further adieu, I give you me. In all my glory. In the 90's. With braces. And huge bangs. Because in those days, styling your hair was synonymous with building a monument to the gods.






This picture, along with a few more from my glory days sat on the kitchen counter. When the children got home from school, oldest daughter began to shuffle through them. I had put a couple specific photos aside to be sure and show the children. Because, did you know that a few of my old high school friends are in our new ward? Even, did you know that the Primary President in our new ward is one of those old friends?! And so, I set aside a few pictures of her for my girls to look at. And they recognized right away that she is the Primary President. She will be thrilled.

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Oldest daughter studied each picture- lingering especially long on all my old dance pictures, where I'm all dolled up in velvets and tafettas and wrist coursages- and, upon suitable scrutiny, stated, "Mom, now I know all your secrets!"
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Well, I guess the joke's on her because she really doesn't know ALL my secrets.
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But, lucky for you, because I am about to share one with you today.
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And I'm going to tell you in a long, drawn-out fashion. Because I am nothing if not long-winded. And wordy. After all, why say something in 4 sentences when you can say it in 20? More bang for the buck. (and feel free to stop reading)
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So, about 4 years ago there was an Albertson's store near our house that was going out of business. And the cosmetics were 90% off. I know! So, I stocked up on mascara. Because I am a little bit of a mascara snob. Once I find the kind I like, I stick with it (kinda like the husband and his deodorant). I believe I purchased all they had- 7 tubes.
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Well, wouldn't ya know, that mascara ran out. In November. And they have stopped making that particular mascara. So I was forced to purchase a different kind. And I was not happy. For about four days. Until I got the hang of the new mascara. And then I was like, first impressions what? Cause they can be proven wrong.
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And now I love that mascara. But this is not my confession.
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I have a mother who has bestowed many gifts upon me. And they are non-descriminatory gifts. And, although I try to be a gracious person, I would prefer if I had not been the recipient of one of these gifts. That one gift being gray hair. I have some. Actually, I have a lot. And so I have taken to the practice of artificially enhancing my brunette tresses. Mostly because I like me better without the gray. And then partly because I think you like me better without the gray. So, I do it for me and for you. You're welcome.
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Early last week my roots were betraying me and showing that silver color. And I knew I was due for a dye. Yet, I wasn't in the mood to do a full-on total hair dye, so I opted for a roots-only dye. And it was wonderful and quick and I was finished before the husband knew I was doing it. (he kinda likes to watch when I am coloring my hair. Dunno. Ask him.)
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This very afternoon, as I was looking in the mirror, to my horror, I was greeted with silver roots. Right on the tip of that widow's peak. And I was disgusted. Because, hello, only one week?
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But, you know what? I love that mascara more today than I did yesterday. I don't think anyone will know. Well, except you.

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And because I know you won't tell, please accept this bonus photo as a token of my appreciation.

You may have noticed that there are still boxes in my house. But that is a confession for another day.