We've got cousins

staying with us this week.  I've thoroughly enjoyed them.  Our house is really fun right now.  We all went to a park together, and I was holding hands with their youngest and he said, "This should be called stinky feet hot."  And that made me smile so big it made my whole face smile.  And for that beautiful gift, he got a kiss.

Our move

This is the short version... though it's still long.

Our movers, Nationwide Relocation is the worst moving company ever.  Please don't ever use them.  They never showed up for our move.  We called them and they said, "Oops, we never assigned you a driver, we might be able to get someone out there next week?"  Wow.  So we rented a Penske, our amazing friends last minute loaded us on the hottest day in Nashville since 1950 something.  109 degrees.  You Vegasans are scoffing at those balmy temperatures.

We kissed our favorite Nashvillians.  We tried to sleep.  A dear dear friend showed up at 4:45 am to help me get the remaining stuff in our car, and at 9:00am after our last family prayer in our house, we were on our way.

Up to this point I had been busy, and couldn't mourn completely because I was still experiencing the amazing ambiance of Music City, home of the Commodores, and birthplace of my children.

But then about an hour and a half into our drive, my Nashville radio station got static-y and I listened until I couldn't hear it at all.  The kids were asleep.  Everything was quiet.  The land was changing, the trees were getting more sparse and short.  The sky was getting bigger.  I looked in my rearview.  All my children were there.  I looked at the road in front of me.  All my stuff was in a truck with my husband.  And I was driving in the wrong direction.  Then I cried for 8 hours.

We got to Kansas, and met my brother's family at a spray park.  We all loved it.

Family and pizza.  It was very comforting.

We stayed the Sabbath at their house, where my sister-in-law made amazing lasagna and we all had comfortable sleeping.

We were out Monday at 7am for our 13 hour drive day.  The land continued to change from rolling farmland to empty desert.  Somewhere in New Mexico, my tire went flat.  We were in the middle of absolutley no where.

  

Also, because we were in absolutely no where, we had no cell phone coverage, so I couldn't call Paul, to tell him to stop.  I tried to pass him, but it was a rare downhill, and he was using it to it's full advantage for Penske speed.  By the time he saw I'd stopped, he was about 1/2 mile ahead of me.  So I started unloading the back of the van to get to the spare tire.  I couldn't figure out how to get it.  Meanwhile I was sure Paul would do SOMETHING to help me out.  He probably thought one of the kids were peeing.  So  after loud frustrated yelling and no response, I got the kids and we all started walking towards the truck.  When we got close enough that Paul could make out that we were walking towards him, and he got out to meet us in the middle.  When we got the spare off, we realized that it was flat too.  And I remembered when we did that.  Argh!  So Paul unhitched his completely fully packed car from the Penske,  drove until he had service and then asked his brother to figure out where the nearest car garage was, and he went there and they patched the tire.  He was gone about 1.5 hours.

It was a very hot day in the dessert of New Mexico.  This is what we looked like:

I knew that the passersby would be worried about a woman with 4 small children stranded far between towns under the scorching sun, and had my speech already prepared about how we were fine, and thank you for your concern.  After an hour, and NO ONE had stopped, I really knew we weren't in the South anymore.  And then someone did stop, to restore my faith in mankind.  They were two gentlemen from Texas.  After I told them we wouldn't be stranded forever, they made sure that I had enough water and sunscreen.  At least my faith in Southerners wasn't diminished.

The earth on the side of the desert road was prickly and the kids and I sat cautiously.

This was our time-out cactus.  

We ate PBJ sandwiches.

We played 'I spy', which was exhausted pretty quickly.

We reviewed rattlesnake safety, because I had no idea what lived in those holes.

We sang primary songs.

Then Paul came back!

He put on the good tire, 

and we were off!

We drove for about 3 hours when our second tragedy of the day occured.  While in a ghetto gas station, the truck and car tow hit a pothole, bounced and broke the car carrier.

I had NO idea how to get out of this one.

Paul got on the phone with Penske and they hooked us all up.  Thank goodness.  

A tow truck was coming to tow Paul's car and the broken car carrier to Albuquerque - where we were headed for the night anyway.  We thought about me going on ahead with the kids and Paul would bring the truck later, but decided against it when the gas station owner told us (before he closed the gas station at 6 pm) bwhere to park and don't leave our truck and stay together, because there were ruffians around.  GREAT!  It was 7 and there was no where to eat.  This wasn't even a town, and the smattering of buildings were all pretty gross anyway.  I think there was a dog kennel nearby because we heard constant barking.  The sunset was pretty.  We sang all 12 articles of Faith, got out the glow sticks my excellent Tara sent us.  We ate her delicious candied nuts and some gummy candy.  Dinner. 

We pulled in to my sister's house at 1:30 am, and I had bruises on my arms from all the pinching I had done. After some life bringing laughter from my sister, we went to sleep for 3 hours.  Armed with caffeine and music to sing loudly, we started our last day's journey. 

This was my view for 3 days.

I don't recall seeing rain like this in Nashville.  I think this happens only in the West and I appreciated it.  Observe.

Also observe the difference between this landscape and the first picture in this post.  Thank goodness the sky has something to look at.

When we drove into Las Vegas I hyperventilated.  But we didn't die.

Our new ward's Elder's Quorum showed up right on time and moved us in so fast.  That was very pleasing.  They were so very nice.  Our ward has been very nice the past three Sundays, and Paul already has a calling!  Not in the bishopric!  So things are going great.

Kisses for all the Nashvillians.

mid-century modern redo

I always forget to take 'before' pictures, until I've already started.  I found this dresser at Goodwill for $30 about a year ago.  I'd seen a few mid-century modern dressers for sale/road-side-junk, but none were real wood, they were plastic that 'looked' like wood.  This one is all wood-veneered MDF, can't tell when it was made, but it was good enough for me!  So I got rid of Axel's plastic drawers I got at Walmart, and ignored Paul's comments about how we're moving in a year and did I really need to purchase such a BIG piece of furniture?

I couldn't decide how to redo it for a long time.  But in the end decided to paint the case black, and refinish the drawers wood.  The tricky part was finding black hardware that was the exact right size for the existing holes in the drawers.

After sanding it, I spray primed it.  Then I first did a coat of satin oil based paint with the roller.  WOW, roller marks!  I sanded for 3 hours - seriously.  Then brushed on satin oil based paint with foam brush.  WOW, brush strokes!  I sanded for 2 hours.  The paint was free, my neighbor had extra.  I did use a lot of my sandpaper, which was ok because I don't want to move it, but if we weren't moving I'd feel like I wasted a lot of money on sandpaper.  I decided that I had to bite the bullet and purchase spray paint.  Because I couldn't stand the paint strokes and when I sanded them out, and I inevitably sanded down to the grey primer.

(aren't my hardwood floors gorgeous!  I'll miss them in the bedrooms)

When I've spray painted in the past I can't seem to get the paint to go on flawlessly.  I can get it to go on without any drips, but it doesn't look even.  I don't know how to describe it, you can see my spray strokes.  So, I tried to be brave and not pessimistic, went to the store, and found spray paint, that was so dark brown it was almost black.  Which was perfect, since after getting it on, I decided that black was a smidge too harsh.  I did pretty good on the sides and was super pleased, but the top still showed the pattern of my spraying, and I couldn't undo it, even with three coats.  But never fear, I put on two coats of polyurethane, and that took away the evidence of spray pattern.  I am very pleased about how it turned out, which I am surprised about considering that in the middle of painting and sanding for 3 days, I was resigned to it probably looking dumb.

Then the beautiful drawers.  I sanded off the old finish (I think it was a tinted polyurethane because the wood seemed dull and hazy), to reveal the naked stained wood.  It was pretty easy for the flat drawers, but the top three with that little decorative perimeter gave me a lot of work.  But then I just did 3 coats of poly, waited 24 hours, put it all together with hardware, gave Axel a lecture on how he couldn't touch it for at least three days, and after that, not allowed to put papers all over the top and make it look messy, and I was done.

I love it.  Paul loves it too.  He always likes it when I'm done.  Maybe that's more because I'm not working on it anymore, than that he loves the finished product.

But isn't that wood delicious.  I know you're trying to touch it through the computer.  It feels luxurious.

I recently had a procedure done

At the hospital.  Doesn't that sound like plastic surgery?  It wasn't.  I got the bill for it today.  They charge me by the 30 minutes.  Really.

My two 30 minutes in the OR cost $7227.  There's $3000 more which I can't tell what it's for.  This is not what I pay the doctor.  This is what I pay the hospital.  Can't wait for the doctor bill.

Paul and I have been talking about not having insurance, because we'll be paying for it ourselves, his new job won't pay for it.  So a regular policy for our family would be $14,000 a year.  And we thought, we never spend that much money in a year on our kids yearly visits and our every other year baby.

This last trip to the hospital has made me convinced that we need insurance.  A few trips to the ER (like 2010) and we'd way overspend.

And all this griping is coming from a doctor's wife.  I probably should be happy to see that I was charged $2051 for anesthesia.  But all I can think is, it can't really have cost THAT much.  This seems ridiculous.

Is healthcare this expensive everywhere?

About a year ago, while in a check-out line, I struck up a conversation with the cashier.  She was 8 months pregnant, laughed with me, a bit of a tough-girl self-presentation, very beautiful, and I guessed has probably lived in the projects at some point in her life.  I liked her, a lot.

A week later, I was in the same store and as I got closer to the front of the line, realized it was the same cashier.  But her belly was flat.  She must've had her baby!  But, why would she be at work when she had a tiny baby at home?  A premature baby that needed her.  And I saw it on her face.  Dark puffy circles under her eyes.  Only speaking when absolutely necessary and barely audible.  A look of guarded anger in her eyes that never met anyone elses.

My heart broke for her.  I actually started crying in the store.  I wanted to offer some kind of comfort.  What could I say?  She wouldn't even remember me.  And if she did, she wouldn't believe that I cared, or that it was my place to care, and my 5 minutes of sadness was not going to help her through at least 5 years of grief.  So I made myself stop crying.  But when it was my turn, I tried to make eye contact with her.  She would not look at my face.  I left the store, giving her nothing.

I hoped that she had people who loved her around, who could make her sadness not envelope her completely.  And I prayed for her.  I prayed for her with my eyes squeezing tears and white knuckles forcing my way to heaven.  And I felt pretty sure that that my pleading couldn't begin to soothe her ocean of grief.

I've since changed my mind.

Every bit of grief shared, helps.

It spreads out, it becomes more manageable.

I am so thankful that Heavenly Father made the world and ourselves that way.

It is a miracle.

And I am so glad I prayed for her.

Where to go to school

I've been really doing my homework about elementary, middle and high schools.  I'm comparing some high schools side by side, here's my table, just in case you're curious.  If you live in Las Vegas you should be.

	Centennial	Palo Verde	Clark	Sierra Vista	Desert Oasis	Bonanza
Number of Students	3010	2804	2671	2107	1956	2184
Violence to other Students	28	38	54	61	28	64
Violence to staff	3	0	0	0	0	1
Possession of a weapon	3	7	2	4	2	7
Distribution of controlled substance	3	2	3	3	2	3
Possession/use of a controlled substance	17	40	36	41	27	36
Possession/use of Alcohol	2	9	10	3	7	2
Great Schools rating	8	10	6	7	6	7

So it seems to me that Centennial is my best option, unless of course they just aren't dealing with all their violence and drugs.  Palo Verde has the highest test scores (10, students I've talked to who went there said there were a lot of cliques and snobs and community comments agree), Centennial (8, may have racism issues), Clark (all community ratings say it's the best school in Las Vegas, but the test scores are lower and look at all the drugs and violence!)  I guess Desert Oasis is lower on drugs and violence, but their test scores aren't great and the community doesn't like them much either.

I think I might have to let go of my dream of my favorite neighborhood where the trees are taller than the houses and they were all built with a specific family in mind.  That's Clark high school, and magnet schools that are really difficult to get in to.  900 applications and 100 spots.  Subpar zoned elementary school.  A neighborhood that makes my heart sing, but the schools don't match.

I may move to the untamed desert.  The mountains sure are pretty.

But I love alive earth.

I love Nashville.

This afternoon, while I was eating my lunch, looking out the window, I was struck by how beautiful the scene was.  Then I opened the window, and heard birds singing to me.  I will miss the view of my neighbors house.  Do Dogwoods grow in Las Vegas?

Every spring I am overwhelmed by the beauty, 

 and the perfume.

I always say to myself that I must live in heaven.

I should take pictures. 

The trees bloom for so short.

I should capture them in photo.

So after school, we went on a walk down our street.

Naming flowers to each other.

flying helicopters,

smelling everything.

I was pleased by that my children love the flowers just as much as I do.

And I couldn't help but think, 

that God loves us, to give us such beauty

to make us cheerful.

He could've made all the birds sound like crows.

The fact that they sing joyfully to us, 

makes me know God loves to spoil us.

And hopefully, when the blooming time is over,

I will remember the flowers

and be patient for the next season,

and be thankful that I can remember them.