Weekend Recap

We drove up to Rexburg, ID to visit my dad's parents this weekend. It was such a nice drive up, and such a relaxing getaway. Besides catching up and showing them the new baby, and eating eating eating her good cooking, I remembered a lot of things around her home I decided to take pictures of:

Rexburg was a small town when this photo was taken, according to Grandma, 4,000 people. Now there are close to 30,000, and that's not counting the BYU-Idaho students. My grandfather owned and ran a men's clothing store on Main Street for 50 years called Vern and Ferrell's. Grandma and Grandpa got married when she was only 19. That's my dad, around 7 years old. She had one more boy after this photo was taken.

Grandma is a crochet-er (and a seamstress). I remember reading these sayings on her wall when I'd "help" in the kitchen during my visits during my college years. I used to catch rides up from Provo to Rexburg by finding people on the Ride Board at BYU. Yeah, you'd just walk up to this map in the WILK and you could find drivers or riders' phone numbers to a chosen destination and split gas costs. I'd never let my daughter do that nowadays (ok, she's only 3), but if she wasn't, I still wouldn't let her. Those weekend visits to their house always rejuvenated me and I miss them.

When I was in elementary school, we left Hawaii and moved into my grandparents' summer home in Escondido, CA. We lived there for a few years till we bought a new house down the road. I remember this lamp in our living room. Once, I knocked the other matching lamp over and chipped it (probably while dancing to the Fame theme song. I'm still gonna live forever!)

Grandma loves Hawaii. These were in her bathroom:

We spent a lot of the weekend on the back deck. Outside was the only childproof area, and when the kids were outside, Grandma and Grandpa...and Mom, and Baby Kalei, and Dad...had some peace.

My grandfather suffered a stroke just 8 months ago, but is now walking on his own (no cane or walker), speaks clearly, and makes us so proud. Keira fell asleep on him and woke up when she heard my camera shutter, so I told her to pretend she was sleeping again. I remember being held by him like that when I was little, too.

Imagine More, Observe Less

I've been reading one of my favorite books again called Remembering Wholeness, by Carol Tuttle. And I've been sharing parts of it with people around me this time around. It all started when I was going through a nasty break up right before I met Ryan 5 years ago and a family friend lent me her copy. She didn't know I was having boy trouble, just noticed I needed some good ol' h.e.l.p.

It is one of those books that has little snippets of wise sayings, one of which I find coming to mind daily lately:

"Imagine more, observe less."

Spend less time looking at the world outside of you, noticing which things aren't what you'd like them to be (the world condition, your financial situation, sickness, etc.) and make a conscious effort to imagine what your ideal life or situation or solution would look like...and do it often. Write about your ideal life, events you want to happen, things you would like, how you'd like a situation to change, make lists, talk about it, talk it up, pray about it, etc. Soon, that positive energy will manifest itself in the form of what you need/want/desire.

I decided to try this method to find and be able to afford my first car (when I was, yes, 26 years old). I hadn't had a car since high school, let alone one I bought for myself. I felt like I would never be able to afford one. I went through college in Provo without one, and Hawaii has a great public transit system (The Bus) that I used to get to and from work everyday. But I wanted a car, felt I deserved one, and heck, I was tired of depending on others. Anyway, it worked: I imagined what my car would look like, wrote in my journal about it, prayed about it, and brushed aside any negative thoughts about getting what I wanted...within 3 weeks I had my silver Honda Civic.

I hit my 3rd trimester mark last week (yay!). I've been getting tired again (like 1st-trimester tired), which usually makes me grumpy...and I haven't even been staying up late to sew, either! Bummer! Add that to we've been sick on and off for a month, and it's a yucky recipe. Anyway, I have been finding myself "needing" more than what anyone or anyTHING can offer...we've all felt that way, I know...this time trying new approaches, better prayers (sometimes unconventional ones, and not just morning and night), trying to find others who might be feeling the same way right now, writing about my experiences, and just imagining more, creating more, and focusing on people & things (however small) I enjoy and like(such as re-organizing my messy fabric stash you saw in my last post). I even wrote a poem the other day!

V-Day gifts from Ryan
Anyway, I didn't intend to write this much about this topic, but just thought I'd share someone else's wisdom and Heavenly Father's work I've been noticing and that I am grateful for it.

The Dress

Yesterday, I was presented with 2 boxes at my front door that my dad had sent from Hawaii over a month ago (yes, there really is a Slow Boat). I knew exactly what was in one of them...my wedding dress. Taking it out and unzipping that white garment bag brought back some good memories...I don't think I've ever shared my hilarious nightmare of a wedding dress story, so here you go:

A week before our wedding day, Ryan asked me what I planned on wearing on the big day. We were getting married in the Hawaii LDS temple, and really hadn't told the whole world about it. The thought had popped in and out of my mind for months and I'd decided that if I didn't feel the urge to go out and spend money I didn't have, I would just wear a nice long, fitted, white stretchy-satiny dress my aunt had made me to dance a hula in 10 years prior. The dress was in a box, and I thought I'd have it cleaned before the wedding, but that was nothing to stress about.

When I pulled the dress out, it was pretty yellow. My mom offered to alter it a bit since I had lost some weight. She came over that Thursday night (I was living with my dad) and stayed up till 4am Friday sewing and pinning and fixing. Our big day was on Saturday, so as I went to run some errands, Mom dropped the dress off at the only cleaners on the island I could find that would do a one-day "wedding dress" cleaning. I was to pick the dress up at 4pm, just in time for my big day the next day.

At 2pm I received a call from the cleaners: "Uh, your dress is ready for pick up."

"Wow, that was fast, thanks," I said.

"There is one problem."

"What?"

"Well, the dress, it kind of shrunk when we cleaned it."
"What?" Blood rushed to my face.

"You better come down here and see."

Ryan and I rushed down there. I was so nervous and mad, I didn't want to go inside, but Ryan said he'd talk to them for me. The girl at the front desk said they do wedding dresses all the time, but they'd never seen a material like this before. It had no tag of care instructions--duh, it was handmade--and they decided to wet clean it instead of dry clean it. Yeah.

So I asked for the manager/owner. He was so un-apologetic about the whole thing. "There's nothing we can do. There's nothing we can do."

I told him, "You are professional cleaners, even I would know to do a spot test before dunking the whole dress in solution!" I raised my voice, I cried, I even threatened to get a local news channel that has a segment on bad consumerism to pay them a visit. I remember Ryan stepping a little bit away from me at that point. After the threat, and my tears, the owner said he would pay me for it. "Do you realize I need a dress tomorrow? Where can I find one in 4 hours before all the stores close?"

The owner said, "Well, I'll give you $50 bucks and you can go across the street to Goodwill or something," as he opened the cash register. I was so T.O.'d, I started crying and ranting again, and the owner finally showed some sympathy. "Okay, I'll give you more than $50, and we're sorry." I calmed down and asked if I could see the dress, and he kind of smirked trying to keep from laughing. The girl brought it out, and when I saw it, I couldn't keep from laughing.

It was about 2 feet tall. It looked like a dress for a dwarf, it was perfectly proportioned, and...clean and white. He gave me a check, and I walked out, looking towards Goodwill across Kam Hwy. In 24 hours, my I-don't-care-about-the-dress attitude had become a crisis. I guess b/c my mom had spent so much time on it...and I was getting married in the morning!

Ryan was soooo helpful. He suggested a few stores, and that I call my friend, Moana, to come and help us. By this time, it was 5pm, and I was about to say forget it and wear one of those white dresses they have at the temple for the sealing, and just a fitted muumuu for afterwards. I did look in Goodwill, just for the record. Nothing.

We went to 2 or 3 different malls...department stores, boutiques, in and out as fast as we could...inching towards 9pm when they would all close. My feet never felt so heavy, and Ryan was going to be late for his bachelor party at someone's house. I was ready to go home. Moana and Ryan encouraged me to look at just one more place. It was 8:55pm and the lady inside this last store mentioned a little wedding dress boutique upstairs. We ran up the stairs and found the cutest little store and a Japanese lady inside so eager to help once we told her our story, despite they were closing in 2 minutes.

They even had a "modest dress" section. I tried on 3 dresses, and the 3rd was perfect. I was so excited. A few days prior, my dress had hardly crossed my mind. Now it was the most important thing (besides my husband) about the wedding. Now, how do we pay for it? Ryan said he'd pay $100, Moana wanted to buy me the matching bolero that went over it, and I think the whole thing only came to $300 something. Luckily, my grandma had sent me money for professional wedding photos. Thank you, Grandma!

So, here are shots of the dress I thankfully ended up wearing on my wedding day...

Lifesaver, Moana:

While I'm showing all these pics, here are some from our honeymoon at Turtle Bay Resort, a whole 5 miles from the temple (but at least 40 minutes from home). The lady at the check in desk must have been Mormon, because when we told her we just got married in the temple, she upgraded us to a honemoon suite for free: (why are all the blinds shut?)

Staying where you are for your honeymoon ain't so bad when you live in Hawaii. The view from our room: we went snorkeling a couple of days, got to eat at our favorite restaurants, and didn't have to ask for directions!

Here is the dress hanging up in our honeymoon suite closet:

On one of our honeymoon days, we went to the Polynesian Cultural Center. In the Marquesas Islands village they had the newlywed men come up and do a "boar hunt" dance. Ryan actually danced well with his spear. When I look at this photo, the most profound thought I have is: "What did I do with that cute bag?"

Now that I have the dress back in my possession, what will I do with it? Maybe save it for Kiki.

A Bientôt, Brussels

In 1997, when I was 20, I went to Brussels to be an au pair for the summer to a nice Belgian family. It was considered a BYU internship and I got French language credits for it. I spent the summer traveling, playing games, site-seeing, eating crêpes, running after trains, sitting there silent for 2 weeks not knowing a word that was said (after 5 years of French classes!), then breaking out of my shell and saying whatever French sentences I could muster up, eating garden fresh lettuce and tomatoes from the grandparents' garden...oh, and learning about taking care of children! There were 3 children: Claire (then 13 yo), Pierre (11), and Alice (5). All cute, all nice and polite, too.

I spent most of my time with Alice, playing with her, going places together, speaking French (and English). It's true, there's nothing cuter than a little girl speaking French (several people told me that.) She taught me more than I taught her, that's for sure. She became my little buddy. Sometimes, we'd be eating at the dinner table, and someone would say something, and I'd turn to 5 year-old Alice for clarification if I didn't understand. She was wonderful. Her whole family was kind, funny, and took care of me. They even took me to Spain (Ibiza island) for a couple of weeks on their vacation at the grandparents' summer villa. Wow. What an experience. There were times of frustration, feeling "cooped up"--most college students used to being independent and on the go (I think) would have a hard time having to stay home most days with little kids. But all in all, it was great. The de Liedekerkes and I have kept in touch, and it has been cool seeing the kids grow.

This is a photo from Claire's wedding last summer. Alice is now 16 or so (far left; Claire is the bride, then her husband, and Pierre). I wish I had photos of when I was with them, but they're all at Dad's house in Hawaii. So, did the experience help me learn how to raise children? Yes, it did. It was only for a couple of months, and so much happened in the years to follow before I would have my own kids, but I draw from my experiences from that summer quite often.

UCTV

Uhhh, this post is NOT going to be all about UCTV, which I happened upon after Enrichment tonight, when Ryan left me with the bambinos at 9pm to play church ball, AC off, Keira diaperless for potty training, and Kainoa wired on something Ryan gave him, 'cause he just fell asleep and it's midnight. Do you think I want to finish work after a full day, just like that? I am venting...so I turned on the TV and exercised my tired American housewife right to veg, and watched "Election Subversive" or "Election Corruption" (?) a UC Santa Barbara lecture on 2000 and 2004 corruptives, as well as "Body Politic," UCSD professor-hosted show with reports on Obama-love in Africa and Europe, as well as an interview with a guy who wrote Standard Operating Procedure (also the professor's cousin) on the torture in Abu Ghraib, both on UCTV. Ok, how did Arnold get elected, after all? I have family members who are "strict Republicans," and most of my (real) friends are liberal, if not closet, Democrats. My question at 31 years old is...and a dumb question...why? As one fellow-Utahn blogger wrote, (ad-libbed) "This is my experience being blue in a red state." But I don't really know what I am. All I know is that on the Slate Quiz I score right in the middle of the two. Does that mean I'm green? : )

New topic: hula. Last night I went to a party (my cousin's MIL's home in Alpine) to dance a couple hula numbers and teach about 10 little girls some basic steps. It was so fun. I think I may teach some classes soon at a nearby facility...it's in the works...but I feel very positive about this and it's something my mom and I have talked about me doing since I moved to Utah a year and a half ago (Sept '07). I'm actually excited about something in life!...other than sewing.

With that, I will divulge a nasty little secret I've been keeping from you, my beloved blog readers...I am a sewing fanatic. Yes, I have a growing fabric stash, I deserve my own studio like all the rest of my sewing peers, but no, I use the dining room table (our condo is 1,261 square feet), where my sewing machine has found a permanent home, and is only removed for distinguished guests...let's see...I stay up late (past 2am) sewing. When I'm not sewing, I'm lying there getting--inspiration?--pictures of fabric and combinations to use on purses, dresses, that tunic I'll never get to, quilts. Why didn't I get into Clothing and Textiles or Graphic Design when I was at BYU? You mean sewing and fabric aren't pukey old lady stuff? While I was going to Economics and Poli Sci and Botany, why couldn't I have ventured into that long narrow building they tore down, but was then the home-ec building, and sat at a sewing machine and discovered my future? Oh, no, I had to spend years deliberating over politics or natural science, Washington D.C. or Hawaii, NSA (dread) or DLNR, what to do, what to do. By the time I graduated in 2001 in International Relations and a minor in Botany, I still hadn't decided, and with haze from weird, unexplainable relationships, I REALLY didn't know what to go into, only, I felt a career in politics (not IN politics, but you know, studying or BEAUTIFYING politics, or even lobbying) was not for me, esp if I wanted children, even though I really enjoyed studying it, and that Botany--though interesting--I didn't feel passionate about enough to continue. So, after hanging out in Provo for a good year after I graduated (I worked for UT State Tax Commish and Sears accounting to pay the bills) I decided to move back home at 25. And here I am, 6 years later, discovering that, hey, I do (can) have a passion about something that is all my own...and that my creative side still lives!! And that I can make a semi-living using my talents, sewing and dancing (gosh, haven't you seen my Etsy sales? : ) ) I've even attempted paintings for our bedroom wall (to stare at while I nurse Kainoa). Maybe I will become an artiste, too!

Anyway, it's 1:20am, so I'm going to bed. More bitter-sweet randomness to come.

Memory Lane

I saw someone redo this song the other day and looked it up to hear the Sundays' version again. It gave me the chills:
http://new.music.yahoo.com/videos/--2147918