Story #20 The Perfect Day

I may be talking about today - but it is counting as one of my stories! I may only be halfway to my goal...but I am still going to finish my 40 stories!

Today may be as close to perfection as one could hope for - and it didn't even include a day spa! Today is my 40th birthday, in spite of my brief anxiety last night, I woke up feeling pretty great today. I lounged in my jammies for a ridiculously long time and enjoyed listening to many different versions of Happy Birthday being sung over the phone by wonderful friends and family members.

My parents came by and brought me a beautiful 4 generation photo array from me to my great grandmother. Then Christy and I went to Zupa's and where I had a super yummy "nuts about berries" salad and shared a sandwich. We chatted and caught up on each other's lives, which was long over due.

I then came home, plopped on the couch and read while listening to Nicole play the piano. When Bob came home he presented me with Gone Is Gone by Wanda Gag, both a first edition and the reprint from 2002. I was floored and teared up! I have wanted a copy of that book for about 20 years - it was the perfect gift.

The girls and I played cards until we left for a family dinner at some mysterious location. I was thrilled to walk into the restaurant and discover a room full of some of my favorite people. Not only that, but Bob had made (paid someone to make) a dvd montage of photos of me...many of which I had never even seen before! What an amazing, fun fabulous evening!

I have been so blessed to have crossed paths with so many intelligent, funny and talented individuals. I was so touched to see so many of them together in that one room - I felt like I wanted to raise my hands up to the Lord and thank him right there and then for this group of guardian angels who have blessed my life!

I am so grateful to Bob for all of his effort in making this such an amazing day - I love you, Babe!!

I was also touched that dear Jill had sent a present along with Michelle to the party. Her card was short, but profound and made me realize this is where true equanimity lies:

Surely life must get better as we acquire wisdom and life experience because we know what to hold onto and what to let go.

Thank you dear friends for helping to make this a perfect day!

Story #19 The Dorky Little Sister

Tomorrow is my 40th birthday. I have been excited about it until tonight. Bob started making up a little song where he mentioned me turning 40 about a hundred times and it has left me in a funk. I find this annoying because up until now I felt fine about 40 - but it has left me feeling like the "dorky little sister"....thus the following:

My brother and sister are only 1 1/2 years apart in age. I am 4 years younger than my brother and, therefore, 5 1/2 years younger than my sister. Because of the closeness in their age I always felt like they had this connection that I was not a part of. I was the caboose child...never quite able to catch up with the rest of the train. Growing up I often had this feeling of wanting them to like me more. Now I realize this sounds rather pathetic...but I was a child, after all. I would often say things that I thought clever or funny and they would roll their eyes, or say "Michelle" in such a way that I felt foolish. I remember being at my Grandma's house for dinner and waiting for the opportunity to use a new phrase I had recently read. If you have read my profile you know that I get phrases stuck in my head just like you may get a tune stuck in yours. Eventually, you must hum or sing that song, willingly or not, it just needs to come out! So, when my Grandmother offered me more potatoes I cleverly replied, "Thanks, but no thanks." In a cool off handed way, emphasis on cool. Marc and Lisa both moaned in disgust. "Michelle - apologize!" Lisa scolded (taking on the mother role, even though the mother was present...isn't that what big sisters do?). I couldn't understand why it was wrong, but I felt like a fool.

Another stellar example is my first foray into swearing. My Mother had sent me out to the drive way as some sort of make-out deterrent for Lisa and her boyfriend who were chatting on the front lawn. They were bickering about one of his friends, so the deterrent was unnecessary, when Lisa asked what I thought about this particular friend. (Keep in mind I was 9 or 10.) "He's a bastard." I said. Lisa and boyfriend burst out laughing and continued laughing for several minutes. I was flustered and wanted to disappear. I didn't know what I had said. Marc and I had been watching James Bond movies and I heard the word on the show....I thought it meant a bad guy or a jerk. Lisa calmed down and went into Junior Mother Mode. "Michelle, is that a word you would ever say in front of Mom?" The ultimate test for pretty much anything. "Um, no." I answered. "Good," she replied, "Don't ever say that word again." I slunk back inside feeling like an idiot.

These are only two of many examples. I just so desperately didn't want to mess up around them. You see, they were both incredibly talented and incredibly beautiful and I felt like the goofy, dorky, annoying little sister. I remember sitting in the audience when either or both of them were in a play or singing in a concert and feeling so incredibly proud. "That's my brother! That's my sister!" I wanted to shout to every one around me. But somewhere with this pride was also a feeling that I could never live up to their level of success.

There were moments where my Mom added to this feeling. I remember in the 6th grade being tested for which math class we would attend in junior high. There was a remedial, basic and advanced option. I ended up scoring in the basic category, as did most of the kids, and feeling fine with that...until I went home. My Mom exclaimed that both Marc and Lisa had tested into the advanced class. She wanted to have me retested....I once again felt like I had unknowingly embarrassed myself. My Dad (step dad) told her that if I was happy with the result we should let it go.

There was a lot of unspoken pressure to succeed in my family and I just didn't think I could live up to the reputation that Marc and Lisa had set. People would say, "Are you a great singer like your sister and brother?" How the hell are you supposed to answer that? Yes I'm amazing - sit down, while I dazzle you with my greatness. "Um not really..." I would say - "but I want to be" - I would think. "Oh, that's too bad." was the reply.

In high school I focused on school leadership and science, since Marc and Lisa didn't have a history there. I thought that if I could pave my own path I would feel better - but the music pull was too strong. I still ended up auditioning and joining the jazz choir and having a great time. The director always wanted me to try out for a solo, but I never did. I felt like I would never rise to the quality of Marc or Lisa's vocal abilities.

Now I realize this post is rather scattered and seemingly shallow - but sadly a lot of these types of feelings plagued my thinking...and clearly still do....oops...hole in therapy showing. So, let me end on a positive note.

There was a young lady in my ward (church) growing up who sort of took me under her wing. I believe she was Marc's age - maybe a year younger. She was at our house one day, I'm not sure why, and the topic of my sister came up. "She's so beautiful." I gushed. "So are you!" she said. I looked at her, puzzled and slowly replied, "Um, no, I'm not." She grabbed my hand and led me into the bathroom. She stood me in front of the mirror and said, "I can't believe you can't see how beautiful you really are." She then proceeded to write on the mirror 'You ARE beautiful.' She said, "Every time you see that I want you to know that is meant for you! Not Lisa or Marc, but you! You are beautiful!" I had never felt so touched or grateful to anyone ever in my life. It was a time where I felt like she was looking at me for me and not because of who's sister I was or who's daughter I was. It changed how I thought about myself. Because of that I named my daughter Kristen after her.

I still have far too many moments of feeling clumsy, awkward and...well...dorky - but just thinking of that moment in the bathroom with has left me feeling a lot better than I did at the beginning of this post. Isn't amazing how a simple act can change a person's life?

Story #18 This is supposed to be the happiest place on earth!

Before I begin, let me share with you another one of my shining moments. Yesterday, after stockings, cinnamon rolls and presents we decided to see a movie. Although entertaining, Avatar was just a bit long and left me with a screaming headache. On the way home I asked Bob if he could stop at Maverick so I could get a Diet Coke chaser for my Tylenol. Bob and the girls waited in the car as I went in for my drink. It took several minutes (since they had to change out the syrup), but was worth the wait. I know it's pathetic how excited I can get over a drink. As I came strutting out of the store, thrilled with my one dollar purchase I walked right past my car to the car parked next to it. Both cars were running with people inside....anyway....I walked over to this OTHER car and opened the door - before I realized this was the wrong car! Hello brain...where are you? The people in back had a look of horror and surprise, while the woman in the driver's seat was cracking up and graciously accepted my apology. I then decided to actually get in MY car, and could not stop laughing that I had done that. Bob was also cracking up...the girls, however, seemed to have shrunk about a foot and were just mortified. It still makes me giggle thinking I did that!

On to story #18. A Christmas story. Eight years ago, just as we were officially becoming owners of the gym I came up with this genius idea: Let's surprise the girls and take them to Disneyland for Christmas. Bob had mistakenly heard that it was very slow at Disneyland on Christmas day, so it would be a great time to go. We had been so busy with our acquisition of the gym that I wanted to do something special for the girls for Christmas. I decided that we would pack everything up while they were at school and preschool, pick them up, tell them the surprise and start to drive to California...stopping in St. George or Vegas for the night.

I was excited. I worked my butt off trying to get everything arranged, without letting on about the surprise. Soon it was time to pick up the girls...this was going to be so fun...what child wouldn't love this? As we came home I sat everyone down in the living room and read my clever little poem (yes, very geeky, I know) about our surprise. Although I can't find the poem I know it ended with "We're going to Disneyland for Christmas!" I said this last line with a happy shout and was greeted with total silence. I took this as disbelief, so I told the girls "We're going to Disneyland for Christmas! Isn't that going to be fun? We're going right now, the car's all packed!" Nicole burst into tears. Kristen, seeing her sister's reaction, also began to cry. Bob started to laugh. Ignoring Bob, I asked the girls, "Why are you sad?" Nicole wailed, "I don't want to go to Disneyland! I want to stay home for Christmas! Don't make me go!!!" This sent Bob into an even bigger peal of laughter. "It will be fun...it's Disneyland. We will have such a great time! Think how fun to go to Disneyland on Christmas Day!" Kristen said, "Santa won't know where to find us! Why are you making us do this?"

I was stunned. I had worked so hard on the "great" surprise - and my children felt like they were being punished. I tried to explain that Santa would know where they were and what a great time we would have, but to no avail. I ended up down in my bedroom, crying to my Mom on the phone about how no one wanted to go to Disneyland with me.

Finally, the girls begrudgingly agreed to go to Disneyland for Christmas - and so our happy journey began. The high point of the trip was Christmas day at Disneyland. It turns out that Christmas Day isn't their slowest, but rather their busiest day of the year. The park was acres of wall to wall people. Good Times. It took forever just to get a fast pass for a ride, even the gift shops were too crowded to spend any time in! As evening approached, the air became cooler and I decided I would go to the car to get every one's coats. As I was returning to the park with an armful of coats I realized that I could not remember where I was supposed to meet Bob and the girls. Was it the entrance of Frontierland or Space Mountain? I tried to call Bob...no answer. I went to Frontierland and waited....no sign of them. I ran over to Space Mountain....nothing. I continued to run back and forth between the two places until I felt like I had run a marathon. I knew the girls would be worried - but for the life of me I could not find them. I kept trying Bob until my phone died, but with the noise of the park, Bob could not hear his phone ring. By the time he thought to call me my phone was already dead. Soon I was beginning to feel a bit panicked. I went up to two security people and asked, "What do you do when someone is lost?" "Have you lost your child ma'am?" "Um, no.....I'm lost." They looked at each other and smirked. "Well, when we find a lost child we take them to city hall on main street." "Where's that?" I asked. Again they smirked and said, "We should probably show you the way." They were probably right.

When I arrived at City Hall and went up to the front and asked them woman if a man with two young girls had been in looking for, well, me. She looked confused and shook her head. I explained how I could not remember where we were supposed to meet and did she have any recommendations. She told me that when they had a lost child they had them sit in this back room, full of toys, etc. She said I could wait back there. As I sat down next to the only other occupant, a 3 year old boy, I imagined the following conversation:

Boy: What are you in for?

Me: I lost my family. How 'bout you?

Boy: I kicked Mickey in the shins.

Me: Rough.

Boy: Yeah.

After awhile and many strange looks from the woman watching the boy, I decided to leave and walked out the doors...they couldn't make me stay!...and stepped out onto Main Street and lo and behold, there were Bob and the girls coming to retrieve me from lost and found. I was thrilled. I couldn't stop hugging them. We slipped on our coats and found a good spot to watch the parade and made a family pact that we would not return to Disneyland for many years. We've kept that pact.

Story #17 Practical Jokes the later years

(I couldn't find the photos I wanted to post with this story...if I do I will let you know!)

Marc trained me so well - that left to my own devices the fun continued...only not on Lisa anymore. When I was a freshman at BYU my inner prankster came out again. The first instance was an act of revenge.

My roommate Dana was and still is quite a cutey - so many of the boys were interested in her. So much so that they were frequently asking me how to get her interested in them. One boy...maybe his name was Sean? I can't remember. He became convinced that Dana wasn't interested in him because of something I had said. So one night in our Dorm lobby (after Sunday night prayer) he pinned me down and gave me a hickey. Jerk. I was mad and felt a little violated. So I decided I needed to get even. My friend Andrea was game.


We dressed all in black (ninjas, baby) and armed ourselves with whipping cream, shaving cream and toilet paper and completely obliterated his car. I mean we covered this thing in so much paper and goo that we giggled all the way back to the dorms. The next morning we woke up early and watched out my 5th floor window as he discovered the attack on his SUV. It was fabulous!! The best part - he never suspected me.


Sometimes, I'll admit, maybe I went a little too far. Heather, another girl on the 5th floor, joined forces with us when the "Y weekenders" would come. These were high school girls touring the campus who wanted a feel for college life. I'm afraid we didn't show them the brighter sides. One of the favorites was not just saran wrap on the toilet, but also icy hot on the toilet seat. The great thing about icy hot is the more some one tries to wipe it off - the more they actually rub it in. One weekend we were actually in the bathroom brushing teeth when one of the Y weekenders walked into the stall we had booby trapped. We had never actually been in the bathroom when our high jinks were hitting their target. As she closed the stall door, Heather and I looked at each other and grinned. We had never brushed our teeth so slowly. We had to stifle our laughter as we heard a small gasp from inside from inside the stall. We waited for her to come out - but after a few minutes and she still hadn't emerged we left the stall.


Alright - I know I sound like a creep but I was 18....it was funny at the time....Okay, I did try to confess.


One evening our dorm Mother called all of the girls from our floor down to the lobby. She said that she was tired of the practical jokes and said that she would keep all of us down there until one of us confessed. We all sat there silently for several minutes. Finally, I raised my hand and told her that it was me. I was the one who had been perpetrating the discomfort of our guests. She looked at me for a long time and then...no lie...said "Michelle, that is ridiculous I know its not you. Okay if no one is going to tell me who it is you can all go back to bed." So, I tried to do the right thing...can I help it if I have an innocent face?

Story #16 Practical Jokes -the early years

At an early age my brother Marc began to teach me some of the finer points in life-such as, why William Shatner made Star Trek cool, Why James Bond is the best crime fighter (it's the gadgets, my friend), and how to torture our older sister, Lisa.

There is only a year and half between Marc and Lisa, which created quite a love/annoy relationship. I frequently ended up being a pawn to be traded in their occasional squabbles. Suddenly, each would try to win me over to their side as a slap in the face to the other. They would offer to play with me, read together, play games - so I didn't mind their arguments.

I remember one night when a sitter was tending, when I was about 4 or 5, that Marc and Lisa tricked her into going outside. It was just before bed and they decided they weren't quite ready. So they locked her out of the house. I remember Karen, the sitter, banging on the sliding glass door begging me to let her in - while Lisa and Marc begged me to step away from the door. It was a rough night for everyone.

Anyway, in her teen years, my sister could be a bit moody, and therefore Marc was often inspired to play a joke or two on her. There was one series of jokes that he convinced me to be a part of.

The year I turned 8 or 9, my grandparents gave Marc and me footie pajamas. We both felt that we were far too old for these - but found a fantastic use for them a couple of years later.

Marc told me it would be funny to stuff one of the pairs of pajamas so that it looked like a real body. Using towels and rags we stuffed and rearranged until the body shape seemed just right. We then took a mask of Marc's and one of Lisa's pom poms and fashioned a head. We spent a great deal of time giggling and plotting all of the things we could do with "the body." Our first foray into "Lisa torture" occurred late one Friday night. Lisa had been out with friends and our Mom was also gone. I hid at the top of the stairs on one side - Marc hid on the other side. We turned off all the hall lights, so that as Lisa opened the door she was greeted with the small glimmer of a nightlight. As she stepped in to the hallway Marc threw the body over the stairs to as I did my best slasher flick scream. As the body crumpled at Lisa's feet, her scream far surpassed the strength of my own. Marc and I burst out laughing - which caused Lisa to alternate between death threats and tears.

When my Mom came home and discovered what we had been up to she was pretty upset. Marc had warned me that we could get into some trouble - but he knew just how to avoid it. As my Mom sat across from us in the family room and began to lecture us on our cruel behavior, Marc and I both began to giggle and grin. My Mom tried to be cross, "Now, you two stop your laughing!" But the more we giggled the more she lost the ability to do any kind of disciplining. She finally muttered, "Oh, you two..." At which point we jumped up and ran to our rooms.

Trick number two with "the body" only worked because my sister's room was always a complete mess. We arranged the body in her bed (which was always lumpy with blankets and clothes) and hid in her closet. As Lisa stumbled into bed and began tossing and turning, her arm went across the body. She paused. She gently felt next to her then went tearing out of her room screaming for my Mom and Step-dad. Marc and I flew out of the closet and ran into his room - wondering how we would avoid getting into trouble this time. I think we may have gotten out of it once again...Yet another great life lesson Marc has shared with me!

Story #15 Happy the Chimpanzee

I am keenly aware that I have not posted in days...and that I am only on story #15...hmmm.

The crazier things become at holiday time, the more I shut down both physically and mentally, until I am a mere blob convalescing on the sofa. I lose all motivation to get anything done, even though I will probably end up in tears at some point. In spite of this, I still chirp out a happy yes at any invitation or project request....what on earth is wrong with me? Anyway...

I mentioned in a previous post that my family spent every August and Christmas in Salt Lake City with my Grandparents. As I'm sure you have figured out, my birthday is right after Christmas, thus most of my under 12 birthdays were spent at my Grandparents house.

Now, this may not seem like a big deal, but when you are a child a birthday party is a pretty big deal. You look forward to the friends, the games, the presents, and the cake. Although every effort was made to make the birthdays joyous, it is a very odd sensation to feel like you are crashing your own birthday party. My grandparents would invite any neighborhood children that were in town to join us for my party. So, all of the guests knew each other, but I didn't know any of them. There were a few awkward moments..."Thank you for the crayons, Angela. Which one of you is Angela?"

(Don't be distracted by my pink, shiny, taffeta dress...that is not the point of the story, although I do look stunning.)

For my eighth birthday, my Mom and grandparents wanted to make it a very special day - so they hired a chimpanzee to come to the party. The chimpanzee was named Happy and you could "rent" him for a special occasion from the Hogle Zoo. As much as I enjoyed watching the animals from the outside of the cage - having one in the same room with me, with no bar barrier, was a little disturbing. You'll notice that one of my arms is wrapped around in a protective motion, while I shake hands with Happy. I remember feeling worried that his hand would be slimy, but it was actually dry and soft. Happy performed several flips for us and I was encouraged to help feed him some oatmeal and bananas.

Notice the body language...lean away! Lean away!

Even though I felt nervous, it was a rather incredible thing, having a primate at your party. I had to keep these pictures from my children for fear that they would believe this was some sort of family tradition. No need to go completely crazy! This was also the year that my brother discovered the birthday candles that would not blow out. I tried so hard to blow out these candles that I merely passed out. Marc also taught me the pleasant game of "Who can punch the softest." I always won....not a good thing.

After that party the neighborhood children realized that nothing could top a chimpanzee and future birthdays had a much lower attendance. Which was okay....fewer awkward moments.

Story #14 Airport Voyeurism

A recent story!

A few times a year I have to travel for business meetings. This summer when Katie, my gym director, and I returned from Texas we discovered that *gasp* Bob had not left to pick us up yet...so we knew we were in for a wait. We plopped down in a couple of chairs by the luggage carousels and settled in for some good people watching.

There were several different groups clustered near the escalators waiting for their missionaries to arrive. We began intently watching the family closest to us, trying to figure out who was who. After about 15 minutes, the long awaited for son began to descend the escalator. The family burst into cheers and began to cluster around the bottom of the escalator. We were betting on who would be hugged first...I thought Mom and sure enough I was right. Then he turned to Dad and held on for a long time as both Dad and Son started to cry. Standing in the background, behind the siblings and extended family was a beautiful young lady, who clearly was the girlfriend. As the newly returned missionary made his way through the family, this young lady began to fidget more and more. You could see him glancing sideways at her, but finding someone else to hug....the nervousness was palpable. Finally, he walked over and gave her a nervous and very fast hug. He then went back to his parents and hugged and wept some more - but every few minutes he would go back over to the girlfriend and hug her again...each time just a little bit longer. You could see that he was quickly remembering how nice that could be!

Katie and I were both a bit emotional watching the scene before us. We both teared up as the parents embraced their son, and laughed as he kept checking out the girlfriend. I loved watching his astonishment at little sisters that had grown so much over the past 2 years. I couldn't help but think about how much our families in heaven and our Heavenly Father are watching us now and waiting to see what we will make of our lives. I absolutely believe that our guardian angels are family members that have already passed on. I believe they are keeping an eye on how we spend our precious time here on earth. I hope that when I return it will be with tears and rejoicing at a job well done. (Every once in awhile I have my moments of spirituality.)