I have this problem. Well, I don't think I'll call it a real problem, just an issue, really. I like crafts. I really, really do. I love looking at them. I like looking at books about them. I like watching people do them. I like dreaming and creating an idea about them. I love the challenge of figuring something out, a new way to do something, a new use for something old, and I'm pretty good at it. But when it comes down to it, I don't think I love doing it for any great period of time. Well the same one anyway.

I have a room that is filled to the gills (well, the edges of the room anyway) with a certain craft project that after doing it for several years, I'm kinda over it. I'm over the room that it takes up in my house for storage and to actually do the project. I'm over the huge amount of time I invest in planning and preparing and actually doing the thing. I'm over wondering what I'm going to do with the end result. This last one is so stressful for some reason: I always factor whether or not someone else would want what I'm making, either to receive as a gift or to buy, and so far only a few have been given away and none sold because I am paralized as how to do this.

The real problem is this: once I find a great idea I can't just get stuff for one or two of them. Noooo. I have to get supplies for 10 or 15 or 20. Everywhere I go I look for great deals on supplies and find them and buy them! Now I have a closet and 4 huge boxes filled with parts. I'll make 5 or 6 items, then the parts and supplies become an overwhelming burden that my brain seizes up and I can't go forward with any sense of fun or joy that the original creation provided. All of the sudden I have a job. A non-paying job so not only am I invested financially, I feel the burden to make up some of the money in sales. But again, the stress of selling.....

So now what? Do I force myself to do something that I am now hating for all the reasons stated above? Do I get rid of the supplies (I haven't invested a great amount of money so this option would not be awful, it just seems such a waste)? Do I hang on to the stuff in case I recover my desire to start up again, maybe, someday? Or would that be like all those hoarders I watch who can't let go of anything because a some point they might need it? We call my craft room the hoarding room because it frequently looks like something from that show. Can you be a hoarding when it's only one room? And a closet or two? After spending two hours yesterday cleaning it, I almost couldn't stop myself from continuing on and getting rid of everything in there. Sweet freedom from stuff! But here's the other question: Would that open the door on other craft projects? Right now I don't shop for any new ones because of what I have here, but if everything was gone, would I want to rush out and fill the void?

So many questions. So few answers.

The REAL reason for the tears

So if I said I knew it would you believe me? I know many people "know" things after the fact but this time it's true. Here's the story:

When I first saw the lump on Sarah's neck when I visited after Derek was born I was in total agreement with her mom: get that checked.

After after all the testing and the biopsy that revealed the suspicious nature of her thyroid and the possible outcomes I decided to do my own online research. I read through as much literature as I could and was cheered by the positive outcomes for so many people but as soon as I read the part about it spreading to the lymph nodes I felt that this was the path we (is it presumptuous to say we when I'm 1500 miles away? I hope not) were going to be on. It's not something I could say out loud because everyone, and I mean literally everyone from the people at the wedding reception to the nurse/practitioner at my annual gyn appointment said the same thing: It's the best cancer and the easiest to cure. Just take it out and maybe one treatment of radiation. So who wants to be downer-debbie and say, I think it might not be that easy.

But the surgery seemed to prove me wrong and really maybe my pessimistic nature was just taking over, I needed to chill. So when Sarah called today and said it was in the lymph nodes I just cried (I'm very sorry Sarah to not always be so tough). I cried because I realized those feelings were promptings or maybe warnings,and although it would have done no good sharing them before, I was sad. And also humbled to again recognize our Heavenly Father's hand in our lives. He knows us, and loves us, and it is His hand guiding our lives. And for that I have no end of gratitude.

Is there anyone out there?

So, I tell myself that I blog to keep a record of my life--sorta. A small and very incomplete record, but a record nonetheless. But I've found that I miss the comments that used to come my way. I guess I have more social needs than I thought. Maybe it's the lack of pictures or music or the soporific effect of my posts that keep people away. You all don't have smell-o-vision do you? Well, whatever it is I hope it passes and life as I knew it returns to normal.

And for those of you who need pictures this is for you:




(Who's needy now?) Sorry it won't let me upload any pictures today. I've been trying for 20 minutes and it's time to get on with the rest of my life.

Next time?

Jesus Took the Wheel

Here's something I don't like but have gone through six times now: Teaching a child to drive. The law says they have to have a gazillion hours of experience before they get their licence and are deemed ready and competent to be foisted upon the driving public at large. Does anyone think about the poor soul who has to sit in the seat next to them as they as learning and practicing? What of their fate? Today I had a small taste of what that fate could have been.

As Kit was driving home from Fresno today along Ave. 9 (I was the poor soul in the seat next to her) we were having a lovely time chatting and listening to the radio. I was relaxed because she was doing a great job driving, for once not cringing and slowing to incredible speeds as cars approached her or as we came to a curve in the road. But as everyone knows who has driven that road, it narrows cruelly and the edges are rough and frequently torn up with small drop offs. We were almost to the freeway when Kit went off the shoulder of the road into the dirt. It was a pretty good drop-off and nearly at the same time (although she has no recollection of this) I yelled that she was off the road and she overcorrected back on. We were thrown into the oncoming lane fishtailing like crazy, but she overcorrected again and we headed to the right side of the road again straight towards a telephone pole. We were literally seconds from hitting it head on, but mostly on my side of the car and all I could think was, "Wow, I always wondered about those people who die hitting a telephone pole and now I'm going to be one of them. Ironic." But here's the part I can't explain. The front of the car was suddenly beyond the pole but the back tire hit it and we were off in the other direction again. She finally pulled off the road and slowed to a stop. The whole time this was happening, Kit was yelling, "What do I do? I don't know what to do!" Even when we were stopped, she said it over and over and then busted up crying. I kept saying, "You're okay. You did just fine. We are fine." Then I got out and on shaking legs looked to see how bad the back of the car was damaged. Nothing. Really, the back hubcap was off, the tire rim was full of weeds but not a bump or scratch. (I think because it was the camry and it has taken 15 years of abuse from many a kid and accident and it's kinda hard to see what injuries are new, but I pretty sure).

As we drove on home, I laughed a little shakily about Kit yelling what to do over and over. She laughed too because she thought that she was only thinking that, not saying it out loud. She said, "I couldn't think what to do so I just let you do it," but I didn't touch the steering wheel. I have to say one of my all time favorite songs to mock is Jesus take the wheel. Really the dumbest song ever. But I have now experienced something like the sentiment of that song. We were not in control of the car, but I am sure someone else was. I am sure it was He is who has held me together for the rest of the day and only now, at midnight, do all the what-ifs come pouring in and I can't sleep.

Here's what I am grateful for tonight:

1. I am home, safe and sound only worrying about what could of happened and not what did.


2. I have a 16-year-old daughter who doesn't have to bear the scars of causing a serious, if not fatal accident. Although several times today I have told her I'm not going to forget that she almost killed me today.


3. The car that had been sitting on our rear bumper for 8 miles previously had for some reason fallen way back only minutes before so that when he passed us, we were safely on the side of the road.


4. There was no oncoming traffic.


5. I don't have to deal with expensive car repairs (insignificant in the scheme of things but a burden nontheless).


6. A loving Heavenly Father who watches over us, even when we don't feel worthy or are even aware that we need watching over.


7. There is only one more child to teach to drive. Maybe by the time he's old enough, I'll send him to one of his siblings for lessons. Not sure I can do it again. At least not today.

Spring Spring Spring

So. Time has flown and dragged significantly since the last time I posted. The more time had passed the less I was inclined to write anything or post any pictures. It's not for a lack of subject matter by any means because there have been a million things happen this year. Not sure why I put off writing but it finally got to a point where I decided I'll see if I can go a year between postings but I can't. See how bad I am at reaching goals? I can't even stick to a year long procrastination but quit a month early. I am pitiful.

Anyway. I woke up this morning to another beautiful (I know my Barros relatives are so not agreeing with me right now) day in the neighborhood. Cool weather, 52 degrees, cloudy/sunny skies, clear air. Spring is usually my very least favorite season due to its shortness (sometimes a week or two at the most) and its heralding of summer that is always too hot and too long. But this year? It has lasted and lasted and lasted. A few warm days every once in a while and then right back to cool, wet and windy. It was lovely for long enough to have our trees all get a good set of fruit, the garden is growing and the grass is brilliant green. But cool enough to wear sweaters for more than one month, I'm still okay in shoes and socks most of the time, and long pants feel good. But still, every day I wake up wondering if this is it. The beginning of the end. For some reason my pessimistic nature won't allow me to enjoy it fully. but secretly I cheer and hoot at the beauty and wonder of a cool and long spring.

If this is global warming, bring it on.