Beware The Rant

I'm seriously giving you fair warning that this post is purely a rant and will have no greater purpose or sentimentality except to rant about the stupidity of others, which happens to be one of my favorite things to do.

First, yes, I should be studying and not writing this, but, the more pages I turn, the angrier I get about something I read early this morning. Second, I love Steven but curse him for getting me into reading the comments on articles!!

I read this article this morning on The Boston Globe about Mitt Romney's charity boxing match last night. I thought it was one of those feel-good news stories about Massachusetts' former governor continuing to do good in the world and raise funds for his son's work with CharityVision to give vision aid to impoverished areas across the globe. In fact, this 2 round boxing match, which, face it, was probably more entertaining than the "boxing match of the century" Mayweather vs. Pacquiao, raised $1,000,000 for CharityVision! How could you not, as a Massachusetts resident, be proud of your former governor and presidential candidate for putting himself out there, taking a few punches and raising money that will significantly improve the lives of so many?! However, there always will be those that must take the negative road, and one incredibly negative people definitely got to me this morning. He made this comment on that article:

It's not the comments about the LDS church that bother me, because, if you, sir, did "get" the LDS church, you would not make those comments. They're simply the same run of the mill mockery that has always fallen on the church, and has obviously never hindered the church, so that, besides proving he is a religious bigot, means nothing. However, I was astounded at the small minded and discriminatory comment about Mitt Romney's wife. 

Ann Romney was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis 20 years ago, and she has made and is making an incredible impact in the lives of every other person with MS. In fact, right now she is working with Brigham & Women's Hospital to create a Center for Neurological Diseases that will strengthen the efforts to find cures for not only MS, but for a myriad of other neurological diseases that are left largely unknown in terms of cures, reversal and modification. She is out there raising money, along with her husband, to cure diseases and bring medical help to the #50MillionFaces who battle neurological diseases. She is quite possibly one of the more influential and hard working first ladies, gubernatorial or presidential, that the United States has seen in years! And you, Mr Eastbrewster, have the audacity to say that because she needs a car elevator, which by the way I can find no evidence of her ever needing or using a car elevator for assistance, she has somehow embarrassed her husband? Because logically from your eyes, any person with a spouse who has any physical ailments is obviously an embarrassment. In which case, Mrs. Kennedy must be so embarrassed. 

I truly pray for the sake of your significant other, Mr. Eastbrewster, that she never falls ill to anything more than the common cold, because she'll apparently lose all support from you. It's clear your vows stop at "sickness and in health." Having experienced a touch of this in my life, it makes me further appreciate my sweet husband who, even before we got together, comforted me one time with the council that everyone will have some sort of health problem, but at least I know what mine is now. I think it takes true character to think like that. To not waiver because you're scared, to not doubt because of the "what if," to not step out because it might be too hard is, to me, the pure essence of selfless love and Christlike faith. And maybe if the star of my rant, Mr. Eastbrewster, did "get" the LDS church, he wouldn't look at a woman, who has most likely done more in her spare time than he has done most his life, and think she could possible embarrass anyone. 

Now, let's look what Ann Romney did during this boxing match--

Before the fight

Her sideways, neon Batman hat!

And gold chains!

Where was Ann during this fight? She is in her husband's corner. 

All photos: iJReview

Walk MS

My day was a little extra special today. Steven and I woke up at 7am this morning, which is ridiculously early for us on a Sunday, and we met up with Nick, Kristi, baby Evan, Lisa and George. We headed for the city, which let me just tell you makes me so angry. Why on earth does it take over an hour to make it to work in the morning, but on a Sunday morning it took 15 minutes to go farther in to Boston than normal!? Traffic is quite possibly the most annoying moment of day (tied with people being too close to me on the subway, people talking loudly on the subway, Chinatown subway stop, well, let's just say everything that involves the subway). Thankfully, we avoided the subway today, and made our way to...Boston University Parking and Transportation Office...which needless to say was not the "parking garage" we thought we were going to. PS this was Steven's bad directions. He's never allowed to call me "the nagigator" again. 

After our short detour to the Parking Office, we joined many other orange clad people at Nickerson Field for Boston's Walk MS. I signed up for this walk in early February; however, it took me over a month to tell anyone or invite anyone. This was my first experience joining any sort of MS event, and I was quite honestly very hesitant to do so. 

I walked (and drove...) with double vision and choked down metallic tasting diet coke for several weeks before finally visiting the eye doctor. Yes, I realize now my first choice of doctor wasn't quite what I was looking for, but I think a part of me was nervous something was wrong, and the eye doctor seemed the least threatening. Besides, who knows! Maybe he'd give me some double-vision-reversing glasses and I could go back to work! That first appointment started a domino effect of doctors appoint that accumulated in one very odd neurologist, who only made eye contact with my left ear, that I had Multiple Sclerosis. 

At first, I was really mad. I think if you look close enough at my car's steering wheel, you will see palm indentations from very angry drives home from my left ear obsessed neuro. I didn't want to talk about it with anyone, and I may or may not have scheduled my lumbar puncture at the same time as my sister's cesarean section birth so my dear mother would be busy with the arrival of sweet Dafne. You could say I was in a bit of denial.

The road from there to here has had its ups and its downs. Sometimes I forget I even have MS. Other times I can't sleep at night worrying about giving my babies MS, or not being able to see them when they're born, or hold them, or walk with them. When we were first dating, I was worried Steven didn't fully grasp what being with me could possibly entail, but, even before we were dating, he always explained that everyone at some point will have a something; no sense in fretting over the inevitable. Three years later and every day I am shocked at how he still truly does believe this. He is my rock that I didn't know I would need, and I am so amazed at the bravery and trust he doesn't even know he has. 

The last couple weeks have been so humbling as the support and love flowed in from literally all across the country--Maine, Idaho, Hawaii and more! I was scared to ask for people's money, and even more nervous thinking about what people might say, but within the first couple days the responses I had received were incredible. To see the unquestioned support from so many helped me not just deal with MS, but it helped me see I have more options than I have seen in 5 years. 

It was a beautiful day, and I walked every step of that 5K holding my husband's hand, and I've never felt better. It isn't just about raising money for research, but it is about the inspiration and love you feel about MS that you may never have felt before. 

If you didn't get the chance to donate earlier, my amazing family decided that since they couldn't join me today in Boston, they would join Walk MS SLC on April 25th. I was truly touched by their involvement, and I can't wait for them to have such a beautiful day as I have had today. They set a $1,000 team goal, and every donation helps! Click here to donate: Team Walking Wallentines

My Not-So-Little, Little Brother

16 years ago Dayna and I waited by the big tires on Paris Elementary playground waiting for my Grandma Connie to come pick us up. From my 8 year old memories, I feel like we waited all day, but still her white Buick with the Jensen Lumber license plates never pulled up. When I got older I realized my families lumber yard didn't actually design their own license plate...

We were so sure my mom was going to go into labor with my little brother, and the plan was that Grandma Connie would come pick us up. So we waited...and waited...and waited. Well, at least in my mind I felt like we waited for days in increments of 15 minutes at recess. I'll be honest, all I can remember is waiting to hear that we were going to make the hour and a half drive over the canyon to the hospital for Theron to be born. I actually can't remember the much anticipated pick up by my grandma or the drive. Obviously the waiting made a much bigger impression on my 8 year old self than the news and drive did. Sorry, bro.

However, I do remember getting to the hospital and finding out that he wasn't actually born yet...what?! This baby thing took waaaay too long for me! Dayna, Holly, my grandma and I sat in a waiting room watching day time TV and flipping through old issues of Highlights. What felt like an eternity later, my sister Natalie walked in, and, in true Natalie-get-crap-done attitude, walked down the hall to find my mom's delivery room. Cracking the door open a bit we could see my tiny, little brother laying on the scale screeching. I should've known then that he would never be the quiet kind.

Now, I actually wasn't very excited for my little brother's grand appearance. In fact, I wasn't very excited for my little brother at all. When I found out my mom was pregnant I locked myself in my bedroom and cried. I cried because I was afraid I wouldn't be my dad's little buddy anymore, but, rest assured, I am still his favorite.

16 years later, that screeching, little creature on the scale is now a very handsome, 6'4" young man. He's incredibly athletic, and I can't tell you how many over-the-door hoops, indoor, outdoor, every imaginable hoop has been in our house. He pounded a ball through the kitchen a hundred times and then some. He bounced a baseball off an exercise trampoline on the rare occasion my dad couldn't sit on a yellow bucket and coach his pitching. Even I stood on the front porch and threw him football passes as he ran across the front yard.

When he was little he tagged along with my dad and I as we did chores. We got pulled over once for not having him in a car seat in the old blue truck. This wouldn't have been a big deal except for the fact that my dad had to have a middle seat belt installed specifically for a car seat because they'd all been taken out earlier. We called him Pud because of his little puddin' hands. He couldn't say 'L' very well when he was toddler, and my dad would crack up every time Theron would ask him to take the "nid" off the coke bottle for him. But I think my favorite story of him was when we picked up Henry.

We'd traveled down to Logan to buy a new buck for our sheep herd. We picked him up when he was just a young lamb, and on the way home we asked Theron what we should name him. Theron thought about it for a minute and then said, "Hmmmm, Henry." We knew nobody named Henry, no cartoon characters called Henry or any connection to a Henry, but the name stuck and Henry it was. Speaking of Henry, a short while later Theron decided he was going to ride Henry. He dressed up in his cowboy shirt, hat and boots. Put on his chaps and spend the day walking around the house asking when dad would get home so he could go ride Henry. When dad did get home, we went over to the barn, pulled a halter around Henry and put Theron on him. I'll always remember my dad and I laughing about Theron's shirty thumping as his heart beat so hard from the adrenaline of his first ride. Unfortunately, Henry wasn't much for mutton bustin' and just trotted around a bit. Theron eventually slide off and hung up his hat on the rough stock.

A slightly less macho memory of Theron is when my mom, Theron, a few sisters and I were driving up to the elk ranch to do some sewing. As we were winding our way up to the ranch, toddler Theron began to sing. He had a bag of honeycomb cereal, yarn and a needle, and he'd been told he would spend the day with us making honeycomb necklaces. Apparently he was quite pleased with this as he began singing, "I don't know but I've been told, my mama's taking me to sew." He was quite the seamstress, and I had that very honeycomb necklace he made for me hanging on my bed post until this last summer when I cleaned out my room to move east.






He's grown up a lot, and has a great personality. He is charismatic, kind and righteous. I've always been proud to hear that he is kind to everyone and a good example. I hope that is as true as I hear and never changes. He makes his family proud.

Love you, little brother, and happy birthday!!

Bianca and The Homeless Man

Oh, Boston is a funny place, and today was no different.  It all started with a homeless man yelling at me… 

I went down Boylston Street today to grab some lunch and run some errands. Boylston, like all streets in Boston, is marked with multiple sites of historical importance—both old and new. Because of these important landmarks (Boston Public Library, Trinity Church, and Boston Marathon Finish Line to name a few), Boylston is usually filled with people. If you take the minute to look up from your electronic device, you see a melting pot of people. There are the tourists that are easily spotted with maps in hand and cameras around wrists; the fancy business woman power walking down the sidewalk in her pumps as she sips her Starbucks and talks on her cell phone. If you’re lucky you’ll see a man in a full bear costume playing a keyboard, and he plays it quite well I might add! There’s a smattering of homeless people around the corners and always in front of the Apple Store. One of these homeless men is what brings me to write this today. 

As I was walking, I heard a man yelling. In such a short time in Boston I’ve come to ignore all the random yelling and horn honking that goes on around me because it is literally happening all the time! However, as the yelling continued I realized it was coming up behind me. I glanced over my shoulder to see a man trotting up behind me yelling about my hair. Yes, my hair of all things. I’m not entirely sure what his argument was, but apparently my hair had drawn his attention. I told him I had to keep going because I had to go back to work, but he was fairly persistent. He was also hard to understand. I tried to pretend I knew what he was saying and told him it’s called ombre, and that I had it done in Utah. Now people were starting to slow down and watch. I told him thank you (again, I’m not sure for what) and that I had to keep going. He continued to yoller at me as I walked away, but he was quickly replaced by a woman.  

As I tried to keep weaving my way through cameras and strollers and Starbucks cups, a kind-faced, blonde woman stopped me and asked me where I did get my hair done. I told her Utah and she mentioned how it must have caught the man’s eye for some odd reason or another. I gave her a polite smile and laugh and tried to keep on my way. I’ll be darned…she followed me too. However, she was slightly easier to understand as she asked me why I had moved to Boston. I told her my husbands job and we had just graduated. She asked if I was liking Boston, and I told her it was good but a bit of an adjustment. She then tells me that she is a card reader and that I have a lot of energy around me. Hm, well, that’s funny since it is Friday afternoon, I made the mistake of wearing boots that pinch my toes and I’d just really like to go home where I don’t have to talk to people—unless you count Steve as person. At this point I really wondered if I had a crazy magnet stuck to me today, but then she surprised me.  

She told me that she senses a lot of confusion in my life right now. She said I was confused and sad about my career, but very happy in my marriage. She said it may seem like there’s emptiness in my life I’m trying to fill with something important, but I haven’t found it yet. She said she sees a lot of people, but I was different because there was a lot of happiness and contentedness surrounding me, but also a lot of confusion. She said that’s a very rare combination.  

I’ll be honest, I was impressed! I am happy in my marriage, and the longer I am married to Steve, the more I realize there is literally nobody else in the world I want to annoy for the rest of my life. However, I am very confused about my career right now. I worked for 6 years to get my degree, and the more I try to get certified in Massachusetts the more discouraged I get.  I like my new job and can see myself here for several years, but I also feel that I only have a few years before I pass on my amazing genes to a baby and that I want to make these next few years really matter! I want to teach! I also want a baby! But then I think about how much I love sleeping till noon on Saturdays with Steve, and I think, better wait on that baby. But I am confused and a little bit empty inside, but I also have a wonderful husband who makes me very happy. And I have an incredible kitchen that I don’t have to share with roommates which also makes me happy! I am very happily confused!  

I was pretty surprised at how right Bianca was about my life, and I started to really think that maybe she could “see the past, future and present” like her business card said. Maybe I really had met a psychic! But come to think of it, maybe she just repeated my answers back to me in a slightly diff 

Steven Doesn't Know It, But We're Becoming Vegetarians!

Since moving to Boston, I have come to find that, well, it's incredibly weird out here. Contrary to Steven's belief, I hold me tongue about most of them (The word "wicked." The fact that there appears to be no 'r' in my name out here, or people's inability to follow simple cross-walk etiquette. The infuriatingly disorganized grocery stores...seriously, who puts the Crisco in the dressings section? Or the indescribable state of their driving).

However, I just cannot keep my mouth shut about the newest shock I've had. This one would appear to be the most appalling and disgusting difference between my dear Idaho and Massachusetts (by the way, I still can't spell that). 

I don't think I fully appreciated all the perks of growing up on a farm. Of course I understand that many people will just never know what it's like to run across the top of the haystack and have your leg fall into a hole. For a split second, you're sure you'll fall straight to the bottom. I never misunderstood those small heart attacks. Some will never know what it's like to peel hay chunks apart with fingers so cold they can barely grip the strings...which is why my dad would find so many littering the fields in the spring. I did not take for granted the chance to watch my mom pull a clumsy lamb out of the frozen water bucket, wrap him in her own coat, lay him down in the front room and use Olivia's medicine syringe to drip milk in his mouth. Don't misunderstand me, I wouldn't be who I am today without those experiences. I did take one thing for granted though...

In our basement, we've always had a big deep freezer that was always full. I see now that we were far more blessed than I ever realized. Snuggled in at the top you'd find little treasured jars of homemade freezer jam--the cloves sticking to the lid. The rare nights my mom wasn't home to make dinner, we'd fish a Totino's Pizza out--still today I'd choose that 99cent pizza over any Regina's Pizzeria dish! It usually held a whole turkey or two that I saw more than once my dad place on another's doorstep. Please just roll over the milk jugs and diet coke bottles filled with opaque liquid--waste not, want not; colostrum is a precious commodity on a farm.

Now, beneath the cheap pizza and bottles of milk, there are stacks of meat. Meat that we raised on our own farm. They're all wrapped in white butcher paper with the blue ink stamped across the top categorizing the beef from the pork. I will always giggle at the memories of each new college roommate awkwardly asking me what the white packages in our freezers were. You honestly have not tasted bacon until you have it fresh from the white wrapper! And this is what brings me back to my original topic of outrageous differences between Idaho and Massachusetts: the price of meat is insane!! I am serious, meat is so expensive! Today I bought a roast, a simple Sunday roast that would sit in the corner of the freezer till all the better meat was used up, and I was shocked that a piece of roast that was 1/4 size the ones my mom would give to me to take back with me to college would cost 13$! I am not a math major, but I'm pretty sure my mom has given me hundreds of dollars in Sunday roasts!

I admit, I took for granted those 23 years of glorious farm-raised meat. I did not realize that my mom and dad spoiled me with so much free food, and what a blessing it was to have that freezer downstairs with the incredibly expensive meat inside and the bag of salt I'd put on top the lid to make sure I was never the one in trouble for leaving the lid open.