This won't be my happiest post. It has been a long day with some bad and some good. So basically a day of mixed blessings.
My husband had surgery today to remove skin cancer from his nose. The cancer ended up being the size of a quarter so the end result isn't terribly pretty. Of course, with the stitches, bleeding and swelling it looks much worse than it will in a couple months. Then, other than a scar across his nose, he should be pretty much back to his normal handsome self. And that is much better than what could have happened. He could have lost half his nose--which we were told by the anesthesiologist probably would have happened had we used a different surgeon.
Our story began about a year ago when he got a little sore on his nose. It seemed to go away but then come back. It seemed so small and insignificant we didn't even notice it after a while--until we were recently looking at pictures from the past year and saw he had the sore in all of them. So, he went to the doctor and was diagnosed with basal cell carcinoma. It isn't life threatening, but it did need to be removed.
We felt blessed. Wes has a brother who was recently diagnosed with cancer and is undergoing radiation therapy. His outlook is good, but the road to recovery will be difficult. Therefore, we also felt guilty. Wes told me he would gladly lose his nose for the guarantee that his brother would live.
After letting me kiss him goodbye, the nurse took me to the waiting room. It was on the far side of the building and down a long hall from where we entered. It also happened to be directly across from radiation therapy. The same radiation therapy my friend Lisa and I used to take our friend Meg. We took turns taking her every week for several weeks . . .until she died. That was five years ago this month. And sitting in the room across the hall from that place brought back memories of a sad and difficult time, but also sweet memories of kind, tender Meg. Both made me cry. Although it has been five years, I still have a message from her saved on my answering machine.
When my wait began to feel very long and my anxiety was rising, I started receiving telephone calls. They came from my mother, my daughters and my girl friends. Of my friends, Lisa called first. I became friends with Lisa while we both cared for Meg. Our service together wove a cord that has continued to bind us to each other. I next heard from Jenny. It was while visiting with Jenny at the luncheon following Meg's funeral, I realized how much we had in common and we have been good friends ever since. Then I heard from Sonia. She was best friends with Jenny and came into my life soon after Jenny did. I love them all and gained strength from talking with every person who called me.
I really don't have a moral to this story other than to be sure to check out sores that don't heal and odd looking moles before you end up losing your nose. But I think that for me there may be another message as well . . . Our journey through life comes with ups and downs. Some days we rejoice and others we mourn. Sometimes prayers are answered---as with Wes--and sometimes--as with Meg--they are not. But through it all, there are people placed on our path to love and support us and help us find . . .joy in the journey.
Monday, January 5, 2009
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Low Fat No Sugar Bran Muffins or BYU Mint Brownies?
Here is a little thought for your journey my father sent me in an email today:
Work like you don't need the money. Love like you've never been hurt. Dance like nobody's watching. Sing like nobody's listening. Live like it's Heaven on Earth.
So for those who have set a goal to eat better, here is a great recipe for bran muffins.
BRAN MUFFINS
Healthy and Yummy--Adapted by Judy Sloan
3 Cups All Bran Cereal--Original Recipe
(Add to one cup boiling water.)
1/2 Cup unsweetened apple sauce (although I used sweetened with cinnamon)
1/2 Cup honey (can use brown sugar if you don't have honey but . . .)
2 eggs
2 Cups buttermilk
1 1/2 Cups white flour
1 Cup whole wheat flour (for a lighter muffin you can replace the whole wheat with white flour)
2 1/2 tsp. soda
1 tsp. salt
Mix together by hand--don't use a mixer. (Since muffins can get tough if over mixed, I mixed all the ingredients together except the flour first, and then added the flour and mixed again-gently)
Bake at 400 for 10-15 minutes depending on the size of your muffins. I made 18 and baked them for 13 minutes. If you made 24 smaller ones, you probably would only bake them for about 10 minutes. Do not over bake.
But, on the other hand, if low fat, no sugar bran muffins aren't your thing . . .
BYU MINT BROWNIES!
MAKES ONE 9-BY-13 PAN OF BROWNIES.PREP AND COOK: 90 min. COOL: 1 hr.
1 c. margarine, 1/2 c. cocoa, 2 Tbsp. honey, 4 eggs, 2 c. sugar, 1 3/4 c. flour,1/2 Tbsp. baking powder, 1/2 tsp. salt, 1 c. chopped walnuts,
12 oz. chocolate icing (Use your own icing recipe or purchase some chocolate frosting. You can also search the Internet for chocolate icing recipes.)
MINT ICING
5 Tbsp. margarine, dash of salt, 3 Tbsp. milk, 1 Tbsp. light corn syrup, 2 1/3 c. powdered sugar, 1/2 tsp. mint extract, 1-2 drops green food coloring
1. Melt margarine and mix in cocoa. Allow to cool. Add honey, eggs, sugar, flour, baking powder, and salt. Mix well. Add nuts. Pour batter into a greased 9-by-13 baking pan. Bake at 350 degrees for 25 minutes. Cool.
2. Prepare mint icing: Soften margarine. Add salt, corn syrup, and powdered sugar. Beat until smooth and fluffy. Add mint extract and food coloring. Mix. Add milk gradually until the consistency is a little thinner than cake frosting.
3. Spread mint icing over brownies. Place brownies in the freezer for a short time to stiffen the icing. Remove from the freezer and carefully add a layer of chocolate icing.
Which ever you choose . . .
ENJOY!
Friday, January 2, 2009
Being Resolute In My (1) New Year's Resolution
Each January I decide this is the year I am going to be perfect. Seriously. After all, it is a commandment, so it has to be possible, right? So on January 2 (I sleep in on January 1st, which isn’t my definition of perfection so I wait until the 2nd to start) I am up early, read my scriptures, say my prayers, clean my house, cook delicious, well balanced—and of course low calorie--meals, write in my journal, perform compassionate service, exercise, give my husband and children individual positive attention, improve my mind with a good book, fulfill my church calling, work on developing a new talent, look for someone to give a pass-a-long card to, make my visiting teaching appointments, and crash exhausted into bed, only to get up the next morning and do it all over again. By January 5th, I am too tired to get out of bed and can be found lying in a fetal position munching Dove chocolates and gnawing red licorice.
So . . . this year, I am going to do something different. I am only having one goal.
I am going to weed my garden.
Yep. That is it. I love weeding (although obviously I don’t do it often enough) because it feels so wonderfully therapeutic. You remove all those nasty little weeds that grow larger by the minute and free up the space and nutrients for good things to grow.
And that is what I feel my life needs right now; a good weeding. I am not even going to worry about planting anything. I can do that next year. This year I am just going to get rid of the weeds.
So what that means is this:
1. I am going to remove all the physical clutter from my environment. In other words I am going to clean out closets, kitchen cupboards, file drawers etc.
2. I am going to eliminate those nasty little bad health habits I once thought I had conquered but for some reason (I am blaming it on a great deal of stress these past few months) they have returned.
3. I am going to find a way to let go of the experiences in my past that I cling to, even though they now mostly just bring me pain.
The first weeding will be the easiest. I can see the clutter in my environment and I will be able to see when it is gone. (The garbage can will become my new best friend.) My personal physical weeding will be a bit more difficult, but I have some good friends to help me. My emotional weeding is the one I fear. I do not at all know how to do that one. A great deal of prayer, I suppose. But after several years, and a lot of time and energy, I am ready to move on, and move forward with my life . . . once, of course, I get those darn weeds out.
So that is it. I am sorry to say, I won’t reach perfection this year. Not even for a day. But I am determined to be resolute, in my one resolution . . . Especially now that I have made it public and will suffer extreme personal humiliation if I fail. (I have learned the threat of public humiliation is a great motivator) So . . . here is a New Year’s toast to weeding and . . . the joy it will hopefully bring to my journey.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Our Best of 2008 List
For those of you who are still waiting to get your Christmas card . . . here is a little preview from our annual letter. (The cards are in the mail, I promise) Here are our top ten events in the order they occurred.
1. Camille marries David Tusler March 7, 2008 in the Mt. Timpanogos Temple.
2. Wes, myself, Kathryn and Michelle spend spring break in Costa Rica, where I lived for three years as a child.
3. Kristen is accepted into the Elementary Ed. program at BYU and comes home for the summer! Hooray!
4. My parents celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary.
5. Kathryn spends two and a half weeks in Bolivia with Alliance for Youth Services. (Wonderful program!)
6. Michelle starts high school (9th grade) and makes the basketball team.
7. Wes and I fly to Israel with two other couples and my parents for a ten-day tour.
8. Wes celebrates his 50th birthday.
9. Ryan marries Kali Thomson November 29, 2008 in the Mesa, Arizona temple.
10. We become grandparents with the birth of Carly Amelia Tusler on December 20, 2008.
So, as you can see, it has been a banner year for us, but not one without difficulty. The economic crisis has brought many challenges to both us and many we love. Some friends lost their teenaged son in an accident, a nephew was nearly killed while on his motorcycle and several surgeries later is still trying to recover, and a family member was recently diagnosed with cancer.
I always begin each new year with some degree of fear and trepidation. Bad things happen to all of us and I often wonder what challenges are in store. However, we are still very much looking forward to 2009, because we know that both the ups and the downs can eventually bring . . . joy to the journey.
1. Camille marries David Tusler March 7, 2008 in the Mt. Timpanogos Temple.
2. Wes, myself, Kathryn and Michelle spend spring break in Costa Rica, where I lived for three years as a child.
3. Kristen is accepted into the Elementary Ed. program at BYU and comes home for the summer! Hooray!
4. My parents celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary.
5. Kathryn spends two and a half weeks in Bolivia with Alliance for Youth Services. (Wonderful program!)
6. Michelle starts high school (9th grade) and makes the basketball team.
7. Wes and I fly to Israel with two other couples and my parents for a ten-day tour.
8. Wes celebrates his 50th birthday.
9. Ryan marries Kali Thomson November 29, 2008 in the Mesa, Arizona temple.
10. We become grandparents with the birth of Carly Amelia Tusler on December 20, 2008.
So, as you can see, it has been a banner year for us, but not one without difficulty. The economic crisis has brought many challenges to both us and many we love. Some friends lost their teenaged son in an accident, a nephew was nearly killed while on his motorcycle and several surgeries later is still trying to recover, and a family member was recently diagnosed with cancer.
I always begin each new year with some degree of fear and trepidation. Bad things happen to all of us and I often wonder what challenges are in store. However, we are still very much looking forward to 2009, because we know that both the ups and the downs can eventually bring . . . joy to the journey.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Earthly poor, but heavenly blessed
While sitting in my daughter’s house this past week, I noticed her Christmas tree—sparsely decorated with two dishtowels where a tree skirt should be. It quickly took me back in time to my second Christmas with my husband. We were married in early July and had our first child, Camille, in April. In the fall, my husband quit his job to attend graduate school, and we lived off a student loan and what I could make selling Tupperware.
Going back to school necessitated moving into a less expensive apartment. We found a duplex, set back from the road and nestled in a grove of trees. It had a bright, cheery, orange door, but once inside, the apartment lost most of its charm. Green was everywhere. The sea foam green walls were devoid of artwork and emanating from the forest green, shag carpet was a musty, tobacco smell. The kitchen linoleum was so worn it was difficult to determine its original color, but the green walls, olive green appliances and dark brown cupboards gave the room a dreary and depressing appearance.
Beyond the kitchen was the laundry room, where we placed our daughter’s crib, and directly across from it was our bedroom. Next to the bedroom, in stark contrast to the rest of the apartment, was a bright, yellow bathroom from which we could easily hear the neighbor’s conversations drifting through the vents.
We filled the kitchen cupboards with cans of turkey chunks from the church cannery (a gift from my sister) and the freezer with hamburger meat purchased on sale from the butcher. We placed our worn, and I am sorry to say, green sofa along the wall that separated the kitchen from the living room and across from it we put our oak rocking chair, which was on loan from my parents. I walked from the bathroom to the kitchen and around to the living room and sat down on the floor. Looking around the apartment I realized there was no longer any use denying it. We were poor.
Fall turned to winter and the bright colored leaves lay slumbering on the ground under a blanket of snow. It was December, and while the outside world bustled about preparing for Christmas, I was in bed recovering from surgery. Then came a knock at our front door. First entered my neighbor Melinda, followed by her husband Kevin, arms laden with simmering hot casserole dishes and freshly baked rolls. Next came our neighbors Doug and Linda, returning our laundry smelling freshly washed and looking neatly pressed.
As we gathered in the living room to visit, I looked around, silently absorbing the scene before me. Dominating the room was our Christmas tree; a poor, scraggly, little thing propped up rather unceremoniously in an empty ice cream bucket and supported by river rock. Its spindly branches were draped with silver, metallic icicles in an effort to disguise the sparseness of their needles. I sat next to the tree in the rocking chair, rocking my baby, now eight months old. My husband sat cross-legged next to me on the floor and our four guests, who were providently thin, scrunched in next to each other on the couch. I could hear sweet musical laughter as stories were shared. I could smell the aroma of freshly baked bread in the kitchen begging for my attention, and I could see the Christmas tree lights twinkling next to me. I felt the warmth in the room, first on my skin and then deep down in my soul. Suddenly it hit me. We were rich.
Life has changed much since then. We moved to Arizona, added four more children to our family and our worldly possessions increased. And yet many years later, we still count as our greatest blessings---and hence the source of our greatest wealth---family members and good friends who have brought such great joy, and richness. . . to our journey.
Going back to school necessitated moving into a less expensive apartment. We found a duplex, set back from the road and nestled in a grove of trees. It had a bright, cheery, orange door, but once inside, the apartment lost most of its charm. Green was everywhere. The sea foam green walls were devoid of artwork and emanating from the forest green, shag carpet was a musty, tobacco smell. The kitchen linoleum was so worn it was difficult to determine its original color, but the green walls, olive green appliances and dark brown cupboards gave the room a dreary and depressing appearance.
Beyond the kitchen was the laundry room, where we placed our daughter’s crib, and directly across from it was our bedroom. Next to the bedroom, in stark contrast to the rest of the apartment, was a bright, yellow bathroom from which we could easily hear the neighbor’s conversations drifting through the vents.
We filled the kitchen cupboards with cans of turkey chunks from the church cannery (a gift from my sister) and the freezer with hamburger meat purchased on sale from the butcher. We placed our worn, and I am sorry to say, green sofa along the wall that separated the kitchen from the living room and across from it we put our oak rocking chair, which was on loan from my parents. I walked from the bathroom to the kitchen and around to the living room and sat down on the floor. Looking around the apartment I realized there was no longer any use denying it. We were poor.
Fall turned to winter and the bright colored leaves lay slumbering on the ground under a blanket of snow. It was December, and while the outside world bustled about preparing for Christmas, I was in bed recovering from surgery. Then came a knock at our front door. First entered my neighbor Melinda, followed by her husband Kevin, arms laden with simmering hot casserole dishes and freshly baked rolls. Next came our neighbors Doug and Linda, returning our laundry smelling freshly washed and looking neatly pressed.
As we gathered in the living room to visit, I looked around, silently absorbing the scene before me. Dominating the room was our Christmas tree; a poor, scraggly, little thing propped up rather unceremoniously in an empty ice cream bucket and supported by river rock. Its spindly branches were draped with silver, metallic icicles in an effort to disguise the sparseness of their needles. I sat next to the tree in the rocking chair, rocking my baby, now eight months old. My husband sat cross-legged next to me on the floor and our four guests, who were providently thin, scrunched in next to each other on the couch. I could hear sweet musical laughter as stories were shared. I could smell the aroma of freshly baked bread in the kitchen begging for my attention, and I could see the Christmas tree lights twinkling next to me. I felt the warmth in the room, first on my skin and then deep down in my soul. Suddenly it hit me. We were rich.
Life has changed much since then. We moved to Arizona, added four more children to our family and our worldly possessions increased. And yet many years later, we still count as our greatest blessings---and hence the source of our greatest wealth---family members and good friends who have brought such great joy, and richness. . . to our journey.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
A Tribute to Three Great Girls
Kathryn 18, Michelle 15, Kristen 21I wanted to take a minute and pay tribute to my three youngest daughters—Kristen, Kathryn and Michelle, who, despite their age, still let me dress them alike. :-)
But mostly I wanted to express my gratitude to them for their help this past week. Kristen flew home from BYU the night before I left for Colorado. Since then, she and her two younger sisters have had to clean the house from top to bottom, make treats for the neighborhood FHE/Treat Exchange, finish delivering gifts to friends and neighbors, finish the Christmas shopping, wrap the gifts, and put on the annual Christmas Eve party at our house—which included purchasing and preparing all the food, plus providing and arranging for the entertainment.
And they did it all beautifully and without complaint! Oh, how I love them!
We did have to laugh at a comment my husband made though. The night before I returned he told them that since Mom was coming home they needed to prepare themselves for change. No longer would they get to lounge around as free spirits, but instead I would be putting them to work. Kristen pointed out that he was the only one who had been taking it easy, the rest of them had been working harder than they ever had during any “vacation”.
But mostly I wanted to express my gratitude to them for their help this past week. Kristen flew home from BYU the night before I left for Colorado. Since then, she and her two younger sisters have had to clean the house from top to bottom, make treats for the neighborhood FHE/Treat Exchange, finish delivering gifts to friends and neighbors, finish the Christmas shopping, wrap the gifts, and put on the annual Christmas Eve party at our house—which included purchasing and preparing all the food, plus providing and arranging for the entertainment.
And they did it all beautifully and without complaint! Oh, how I love them!
We did have to laugh at a comment my husband made though. The night before I returned he told them that since Mom was coming home they needed to prepare themselves for change. No longer would they get to lounge around as free spirits, but instead I would be putting them to work. Kristen pointed out that he was the only one who had been taking it easy, the rest of them had been working harder than they ever had during any “vacation”.
And what a great job they did! I love you all so very much! Thank you for all the joy you have brought to my journey!
Thursday, December 25, 2008
My day with a newborn baby and a dog
11:00 p.m. Dave and Camille (the parents) put Carly (the newborn) to bed and climb into bed themselves. Missing my family in Arizona, I (the grandma) get on the internet to catch up on email.
1:00 a.m. I go to bed. Max (the dog) takes up residence on the floor at the foot of my bed.
1:30. Carly’s robust crying awakens everyone. I get up and find Dave in the nursery changing a diaper. Camille mumbles something incoherent from her bed.
2:00. Carly cries again. I turn over and try to sleep.
3:00. I am awakened by Carly’s cries. I try to go back to sleep but Max is chasing something in his dreams and his noises keep me awake. I try covering my head with a blanket to diminish the noise.
4:00. Carly is crying and I can hear frustrated parental voices in the next bedroom. I knock on the door and ask if I can help. Dave promptly hands me the baby and closes the door.
4:00-4:30. I walk the house with Carly, trying to keep her from awakening her parents. I try to put her in her crib but she immediately protests.
4:30. I decide to try sitting with Carly in my bed as I am feeling rather exhausted. I go to my room and see that Max is now sleeping in my bed so I abandon that thought. I'll clean out the dog hair in the morning.
5:00-6:30. I feel so tired I can barely stand it. I still have Carly and still can’t put her down, so I get on the internet and start reading blogs. Thank you to all you bloggers! You kept me entertained and in good spirits when I was desperate!
6:30-7:15. I sit on the couch with Carly. Max comes and sits next to me and keeps nudging my hand to pet him. I think, “My life has come down to this?”
7:45. I wake up Camille and tell her it is time to feed her hungry baby.
9:00. Camille and I discuss the need to have Carly learn to sleep without someone holding her. Long day.
7:00 p.m. We put Carly in bed and have a strategy meeting on how to deal with her tonight. Dave ends the meeting by saying, “Okay, break!” We all laugh at his reference to a huddle. He comments he feels we are all a team and the baby is our opponent . . . and we are losing.
7:15. Carly is still in bed sleeping. I go to check on her to make sure she is breathing.
7:25. Dave goes to check on her to make sure she is still breathing.
7:40. I go to check on her to make sure she is still breathing.
7:50. Camille goes to check on her . . .
1:00 a.m. I go to bed. Max (the dog) takes up residence on the floor at the foot of my bed.
1:30. Carly’s robust crying awakens everyone. I get up and find Dave in the nursery changing a diaper. Camille mumbles something incoherent from her bed.
2:00. Carly cries again. I turn over and try to sleep.
3:00. I am awakened by Carly’s cries. I try to go back to sleep but Max is chasing something in his dreams and his noises keep me awake. I try covering my head with a blanket to diminish the noise.
4:00. Carly is crying and I can hear frustrated parental voices in the next bedroom. I knock on the door and ask if I can help. Dave promptly hands me the baby and closes the door.
4:00-4:30. I walk the house with Carly, trying to keep her from awakening her parents. I try to put her in her crib but she immediately protests.
4:30. I decide to try sitting with Carly in my bed as I am feeling rather exhausted. I go to my room and see that Max is now sleeping in my bed so I abandon that thought. I'll clean out the dog hair in the morning.
5:00-6:30. I feel so tired I can barely stand it. I still have Carly and still can’t put her down, so I get on the internet and start reading blogs. Thank you to all you bloggers! You kept me entertained and in good spirits when I was desperate!
6:30-7:15. I sit on the couch with Carly. Max comes and sits next to me and keeps nudging my hand to pet him. I think, “My life has come down to this?”
7:45. I wake up Camille and tell her it is time to feed her hungry baby.
9:00. Camille and I discuss the need to have Carly learn to sleep without someone holding her. Long day.
7:00 p.m. We put Carly in bed and have a strategy meeting on how to deal with her tonight. Dave ends the meeting by saying, “Okay, break!” We all laugh at his reference to a huddle. He comments he feels we are all a team and the baby is our opponent . . . and we are losing.
7:15. Carly is still in bed sleeping. I go to check on her to make sure she is breathing.
7:25. Dave goes to check on her to make sure she is still breathing.
7:40. I go to check on her to make sure she is still breathing.
7:50. Camille goes to check on her . . .
Apparently either way, we don’t sleep. :-)
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