F.R.I.D.A.Y. Ketchup, er, Catch Up!

To all of you fellow bloggers out there, I would like to ask:  How many half-written, half-composed posts do you have lined up in your queue just minding their own business while awaiting patiently to be finished and published?  Me?  I have A TON.  Some of my half posts are so old that they were started way back when rainbows were black and white!  Way back when the Beatles were the New Kids on the Block!  Way back when the Burger King was only a prince!  Rim shot!


Yuk, yuk. Ugh.


Anywho.  I need to do a little catching up with my F.R.I.D.A.Y. frivolity posts.  So, here we go!


Now, don't have a conniption anybody!  Please rest assured that the picture below was taken a couple of weeks before Christian entered the MTC and took up residence there as the MTC's personal little ray of sunshine and happiness.  No missionary shenanigans here.  Nuh-uh.  Christian wouldn't even dream of breaking or bending the rules by busting out for a whale of a good time with the F.R.I.D.A.Y. Fooligans.  He's a good influence on me, that boy.  Keeps me in line.  Expects me to behave myself.  Wants me to always CTR.  


And, see that ethereal glow shining above our heads?  That's what ya get for having three kids who sport halos over their heads as comfortably as they sport darling smiles.  Nice.


Now, where, oh where, in all of this warm glow is Aldolpho?   Here's a hint:  He's either bathing in public (scandalous!) or he has taken up bobsledding in anticipation of the Sochi 2014 Winter Olympics!  Which do you think?





























Did you find Aldolpho in this pic from our previous F.R.I.D.A.Y. fun?  I'm thinking that Aldolpho is like those little kids who want to be the center of attention, but then once they are, they totally bail on you and try to hide behind a great, big, plastic water glass so people won't look at them anymore.  But then they want the attention again.  Then they don't.  Then they do.  Then they don't . . .   

Nobody's Gonna Slow Me Down, No-oh!

Due to that ever pesky and persistent tendonitis visitor that comes and sets up shop in either or both of my ankles and totally outstays its welcome where ever and whenever it wants if I happen to run too much or too often, I have finally been banished to our treadmill.  And, frankly?  This brings me no real joy.  At least, not the way running does.  


That "runner's zone" is real, I tell ya.  While running, I can escape into my own little world (um, sometimes that happens even when I'm not running--Oh!  Hello!  Why is my phone in the freezer?, but I digress), and some of my most brilliant shenanigans are dreamed up while I am running.  It's an escape from reality!  It's even better than escaping from reality by watching those durned Twilight movies!  And, those movies are pretty doggone far from reality (or good movie making), if you're asking me.  Which you're not.  So, never mind.


Since I actually enjoy (imagine that!) living my life without a pronounced gimp (think Festus from Gunsmoke), I've decided to try to lock the door on that tendonitis and use the treadmill at a 12%-15% incline instead.  YEEHAW!  Can you say burn baby, burn?  This is not easy.  You try it.  Seriously, this. is. not. easy.  And, not nearly as fun as running.  However, I must admit that I looooooove to wear my high heels without audibly gasping in sheer pain with each and every step I take, so I've had to make some compromises.


While the treadmill and I will never be bff's, I think I do have a better relationship with it than these folks:



I swear, I was guffawing right out loud at some of these people!  And, now I'm scared.  Mocking others is never good karma.  Wish me luck on that t-mill tomorrow!  If Dave finds me embedded in the sheetrock of the back wall, you can tell him that I totally deserved it.

Sean to the Rescue or: How I Barely Dodged the "Ugly Cry"

See that handsome boy in the middle pulling my darling Christian's luggage along?  Recognize that dashing young man?  Seanie, who teaches Spanish at the MTC (how fortuitous!), had just begun his shift shortly after we took our photos at the temple and right before we dropped off Christian for his two-year stint in Sweden.  (If you missed it the first time around, you can read about that here.)  Sean told me to give him a call when we were getting close to (dramatic music inserted here: duh duh duuuuhhh) THE CURB.  I did, and out came Sean, leaving his district in their classroom for a few moments (with the charge to not climb out of the windows, I'm guessing) in order to grab one last brotherly hug.  


Do you know how my heartache was lifted like, A TON, to see my two boys walking off into the sunset together walking into the MTC together after I gave Christian one last suffocating embrace?  Of course, this now left Sean with the duty of saying the very, VERY last goodbye for the family, and I'm sorry for inadvertently throwing Seanie under the bus like that, but my spirits were soaring at the sight of these two boys, side by side, confidently walking toward the entrance.  No collapsing on that cement sidewalk for them.  No siree.  For good or for ill, that's one way they'll never be like their old lady.  


Anywho, this could not have been a better turn of events for me.  And, I know that Dave, for one, will forever be grateful to Sean for doing what ultimately played a big part in staving off what surely would have been Dave dealing with his wife dissolving into her "ugly cry."  And, that ain't too pretty, just so you know.

The Ballad of Mr. Bigg Boots

Back when I was a whiney little kid (I've told you before that I used to be a champion four-year-old whiner, so you should not be judging me like you are this very moment {I know you are, so don't deny it}), so, yeah, way back when I was not only a champion whiner but also a world-class tomboy, I had a love for shoes.  "Love" does not even come close.  We're talkin' obsession, adoration, covetousness, envyings, infatuation, passion, and one single, sane, and balanced brain cell away from possessing a true fetish for shoes.  Specifically, high heels.   

Imagine (if you dare!) a squirrely little tomboy all dressed up in her older brother's Levi's cutoffs, brown plaid snap-down shirt, sporting a pixie haircut and enough bruised limbs to alarm any DCFS agent, all the while sporting these gorgeous shoes on her little feet:

These shoes were favorites of mine.  Unfortunately, they were favorites of my mother's as well.  My mom purchased them on a chartered trip to Mexico which she, my dad, and some other doctor friends took when I was four years old (the year my whininess peaked).  I loved stomping around in these shoes, but my mother feared for their lives stating that I would break the arches with my too-small feet.  I tried to obey her.  I did.  But, sometimes the beautiful ruby red shoes got the best of me, and I threw caution to the wind and just went for it.  


As of about three years ago, those shoes are mine.  My mom passed them off to me just like a senior graduating class passes along to the junior class all of the trade secrets about how to break into the principal's office.  Say what now?


All of this nonsense leads to the video below.  It does my heart good to see Kimball following in his Deedee's footsteps, particularly since he is wearing Papa's boots and Christian's creepy shoes while doing it and not Grandma Bea's ruby red slippers. Hello!

For some reason I now have a real hankerin' to shake a tambourine.

I'm Such a Playah!

Hey!  Any of you guys heard of a little somethin' somethin' called March Madness?  Apparently, it's some humungo tournament thingy that is not so little but, rather, is some long, drawn-out competition that sucks a bunch of people into it starting around the first part of March, and it doesn't let go of its death grip until the end of the month.  I guess it's kind of a big deal???


Anywho!  You guys will never guess who competed!  Guess!  Just go ahead and take a whack at a guess!  Yeeeeeuuuupp!  ME!!!  SHRIEK!  March Madness and me!  Who woulda thunk?


To see me in action and to read my comments about it all, go here and scroll down the page about half way.  Does this mean I get some sort of Nike or Adidas kickback sponsorship or such?  Suuu-weeeet!




*Seriously, when I made these two recipes, the Artichoke Dip  totally blew the Hot Bean Dip outta the water.  I hope those bookies in Las Vegas didn't lose their shirts in this face-off.    

Elder Sagers Is Officially On the Lord's Errand (and I survived to tell the tale)

Well, the deed is done!  Christian is now a full-time missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.  Dark suit, spiffy hair cut, white shirt and tie, name tag, and excitement and enthusiasm to beat the band.  And, me?  I'm still alive and kicking, despite my very, very tender feelings and achy heart (tread lightly around me for a wee bit yet, k?) as I say goodbye for two years.  Wait!  Did I just write two years?  Two whole years???  It's just now hitting me.  Two. Whole. Years.  Nurse!  Nurse!  Oxygen!  STAT!  Breathe in.  Breathe out.  Breathe in.  Breathe out.  Two years.  Two years, you say?  Jeepers.  Two years?


Hey! This oxygen is not working!  INNER CONFLICT ALERT!  INNER CONFLICT ALERT!  I swear, people!  I cannot think of any other scenario where a person might feel the ultra! extreme! ecstatic! feelings vs. the ultra! extreme! heartache! feelings of an adoring mama who sends her young one off on a mission.  I'm off the charts on both ends of the spectrum with this one, guys.   


Seriously though, I would not want Christian to be doing anything different with his life right now.  I am sooooooooo proud of him because this is what he has worked toward his entire 19 years.  He has labored with all of his might to prepare himself for this very moment, and finally it has come.  He is so ready.  He is so willing.  He is so able.  Very abundantly so.   


He will make a difference in this world, that boy.  You mark my words:  Great things are in store for that young man.  And, I'm not just whistlin' dixie here, folks.  Keep a watch out for my Christian.  You'll see.  (Hey!  I'm his mom, and I'm allowed to be as proud as a peacock of my kids so, no fair judging.)

Last goodbyes from Ashley and Kimball.  Kimball loves his Uncle Christian very much and loves to go around chanting, "Sweden 2012!  Sweden 2012!"  Kimball definitely has some mighty fine missionary legacies to look to.  BTW, that darling haircut of Ashley's has garnered more oohs and aahs than The Rachel haircut back in the day!  Just, FYI.

Quite the handsome man, no?

Quite the handsome men, no?

Since Dave was conducting the meeting at Christian's farewell, he was able to say a few words at the end.  He related that while in kindergarten or first grade, Christian came home with a report card upon which the teacher had written, "Christian is a good boy."  Dave said that he can testify that in every sense and meaning of the word, Christian is a good boy.  My heart just about exploded at that point.

Christian is truly an extraordinary young man.  How unbelievably blessed am I to say that he is one of my very best friends?  Best of friends, we. 

I guarantee you will not find two prouder parents anywhere.  Gar-own-teed.

The universe was smiling upon us as we had the crazy-happy luck to run into one of Christian's friends from his very beloved BYU FHE group.  She graciously wielded the camera for this one.  Thank you, Sam!

Ever wondered what Heaven looks like?  Well, here ya go.

Exemplary men, all.  And, dapper to boot!  

Last meal on the "outside" at the very famous and best greasy spoon joint around--Ripples.  Anyone seen "The Phone Booth"?  

Grandma Pauline and Grandpa Richard are the best supporters of missionaries ever!  

Here's the ol' drop-kick-your-missionary-out-of-the-car-at-the-curb scene.  Actually, it was probably better than lingering too long.  In all likelihood, I really would have been in a fetal position if we had not been shooed along by those beefy MTC bouncers.

And, speaking of best friends . . . yeah.

This mama is so touched by the relationship these brothers have with one another.  Much respect, admiration and love floats between these two.  
Quite amazing, really. 

One last parting shot.  It was only moments after this that I sat huddled in the passenger seat of our car with my vision blurred by tears but with a smile firmly in my heart.  My extraordinary son is in the Lord's hands, and I know that He will keep Christian in His loving and ever-watchful care, just for me.

If by some twisted circumstance of fate you just so happened to miss this the first ninety-nine times around, let me just say again how much I love this guy!  Honest to pete.  I love him so!!!

Outtake with Kimball doing his "I'm fake-grinning so hard right now that I can't even see" smile.  Couldn't resist throwing this in here.

ONE! EN!

No, the title of this post is not the name of a song from a classic Broadway play involving a lot of tap dancing.  Guys!  Focus!  Yeah, as if I'm focusing.  Gaaaahhh! 

My mind is all a-tumble-jumble right now.  I'm just going to post this picture and spare you from hearing about my personal drama and my wildly polar opposite emotions as Christian prepares to leave.  You'll hear about it, make no mistake.  You'll hear about it.  But, that will be another day.  I'll just leave it at this:  I love this young man with all of my heart, with all of my soul, with every bit of me, with every speck of my spirit, with the very essence that is me. 


I love him.  


I love him.  


I love him.  

Tears.  Tears.  Tears.  I won't deny it.

TWO! TVÅ!

We're down to two?  Two days?  Are ya kiddin' me?  Holding it together, holding it together . . . 


Christian, on the other hand, is absolutely rarin' to go and is crazy excited to get this show on the road, just as he should be.  Just as I would want him to be.  I can deal with my own lonesomeness in my own way (again that retail therapy rears its ugly but useful head) as long as I know Christian is happy as a clam.  I want nothing but giddiness and enthusiasm and sparkle and high hopes for our young missionary, and that's just what he possesses.  Good on ya, Elder Sagers!  Go forth and serve!!!

I've told Christian that all will be well with me as long as he fully comprehends how much I love him, and he tells me that he does.  I have my doubts that he will ever truly realize how much I love and adore him, but his tender assurance is good enough for now.  All is well.

THREE! TRE!

Whew.  It's been a loooooong day.  But a good day.  A very, very good day.  I'll post more about it after I get my young elder tucked in safely at his new home-away-from-home.  Heaven knows I'll be needing  to do something productive with myself to stay out of trouble after he is gone, and I might as well blog my little brains out.  Sidebar:  Can blogging be deemed productive?  I'll go ahead and give that a big, hunkin' "yes"  because it serves me well in this particular discussion.  Funny how one-sided conversations lend themselves so easily to the convenience of proving one's point.  And, guess what?  I kinda like it. 


Ah.  But, for now, let me just say that I could not have been a prouder mama than I was today.  My young elder stood straight and tall and spoke the Lord's truth like a man.  Like a very wise and learned man.  Jeepers, how I love him!  Jeepers, how I will miss him! 

I am so in awe of my children.  They are exceeding me in every possible way.  

My mantra is to just stay out of their way and "do no harm."  

I love my family more than anything in this world!!!

Please ignore the fact that my hair is attacking Christian.  See?  Every part of me is drawn to this awesome guy!

FOUR! FYRA!

Okay.  We're not messing around here anymore, guys.  F-f-f-f-f-f-f-four more days!  I don't think my heart can take it.  Are you guys doing what I asked?  As in, invoking heaven on my behalf?  I'm much obliged to you for that.  Dave is too.  He knows very well that he'll have one hot mess on his hands if I'm left to my own devices.  I think Dave will even send you a bouquet of flowers if you pray hard enough so that I don't end up seeking major retail therapy while using our joint credit card.  Name your color; if I know Dave, the flowers will be on their way to you in a New York minute.  Sending a bouquet of flowers is certain to be much, much cheaper than my retail therapy.  Dave's no fool; he's been around this block before . . . .

Christian is so excited and confident and prepared for this mission.  I am so grateful to him for his examples of love and obedience and faith.  Oh, how he teaches me!  He teaches me much more than I teach him, and I am so determined to be more like him in every way.  I know, I know.  I've said it before, but how could a mother be so blessed?  Goodness to pete.  

FIVE! FEM!

I can now count on one hand the number of days before Christian launches his international career of spreading great tidings of comfort and joy!  I'm hanging on to that comfort and joy by the tips of my fingernails--not giving in.  Not giving in.  Not giving in.  At least not yet.  At least not until 1:12 p.m. on Wednesday afternoon.  After that, people should probably plan to just steer clear of me for a while if they don't wan't a soaking wet shoulder.

My sister, Marian, has quite literally been a second mom to all three of my kids, and I love her dearly for it.  She can even boast that she changed this elder's diapers!  Well, more likely, she gave me moral support while I changed this elder's diapers.  You know how babies can be . . .  

SIX! SEX!

Counting down in Swedish is making me feel quite bilingual! Yay, me!


So!  Six more days until Christian gets to bathe himself in those (in)famous MTC pancakes doused with tons and tons of maple syrup. Luckily for him, he could stand to take on a few of the extra pounds that those MTC pancakes seem to foist upon the unsuspecting*. And, don't you fret, I'll be sending him other sources of poundage to go along with those (in)famous MTC pancakes.  (Ahem, Krispy Kreme donuts, elders and sisters?!!!)

We told Kimball to do the "bunny ears" behind Christian's head.  This was his interpretation.  Go look up "adorably adorable" in the dictionary, and you'll probably find these two lookers!

*Christian has been told that it is actually the orange juice that one needs to avoid at the MTC cafeteria.  Something about doing a number on one's digestive system; something about causing intestinal distress; something about the big "D".  Aaaaaaaaaand, we'll just leave it at that.

SEVEN! SJU!

Lookee who blew into town today!  YIPPEE KI YAY!  Isn't our little Ashley the cutest thing!  And, darling hair, no?!!!   (Kimball is tucked safely in bed, but I'll be sure to give you the pleasure of seeing a pic of him tomorrow :})

So, the countdown continues, and here we are at seven!  Count 'em!  Seven days until Elder Sagers unleashes his charm and wit and unilaterally and universally LUVED self on those unsuspecting MTC teachers.  They are getting one in a million with that kid!  He'll leave his mark in a very, very positive way, let's make that quite clear.  Who loves him?  ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  (Me and an untold number of 18, 19, and 20-year-old girls.  What?  It's true, so I might as well be straight up about it.  I know it.  You know it.  We all know it.  But Christian doesn't seem to really know it if his humble demeanor about it all is any indication.  See?  One. in. a. million.) 

EIGHT! ÅTTA!

The countdown is on!  Christian will enter the MTC next Wednesday to begin his grand adventure of serving as an LDS missionary in the Sweden Stockholm Mission.  Good grief, this young man is going to touch so many hearts and change so many lives with his wondrous talents and gifts of leadership, and testimony, and simple goodness and righteousness.   Do you know how much I love him?  No, I bet you don't.  Take the amount of how much you think I love him and multiply it by a bazillion.  That's not even getting close to how much I love him!!!




Prayers offered on my behalf will be very much appreciated.  I have a feeling I'm  going to need them.

I Have Seen the Future, and the Future Is . . .

Oh, Kimball.  


Kimball, Kimball, Kimball.  


Do you know what a lucky little three-year-old boy you are?  No?  Well, let me tell you somethin', mister. This is what you can look forward to receiving from your totally fabulous and awesome Papa and Deedee in about 15 years!  Take a good, long look-see:



I'm already perfecting my fly girl routine to perform behind Dave.  My family will swear that I'm already pretty savvy with a lot of those totally geezer-ish um, totally hep Mick Jagger-ish moves that this MeeMaw does, so I should be good to go in a few.  Dave needs to work a little bit on his smoker voice and to shell out for a cooler pair of shades, but otherwise, he's solid.  We're gonna put Kimball's knickers in a twist with this!  Like I said, lucky boy!  Right?  Guys?  Dave?  Hey!  What's up with everybody pretending they suddenly don't know me?  You guys!  


Well, all I have to say is that you all have been witness to my shenanigans in the past--don't think for a minute we won't be doing this.