H.E. Double Toothpicks

I'm HOOOOME!! My kid's response, "How was your second day mom?"   Wasn't exactly sure how to respond as this was a challenging, exhausting, frustrating at times, overwhelming, and a productive day all rolled up into one.

My day started out with a group lesson where we discussed questions such as, "What would be your ideal job?"  "If you had a choice, between getting 10 million dollars or have your vision back? What would you choose?"  "Which of your instructors would give you a job recommendation and why?"  The million dollar question was very interesting to hear people's answers.  I shared, my first inclination would be to say I wanted my vision over the millions of dollars, but mostly because I was feeling uncomfortable at the moment.  I shared that this feeling might be short sighted because I didn't have the proper training and tools to be feel confident, comfortable with who I am, and independent.  I know many blind and visually impaired individuals, including my own children.  Blindness can be inconvenient, but shouldn't define a person or their happiness.  It's definitely not a tragedy if an individual can receive the proper training, tools, and attitude towards it.    Believe you me, I have met unhappy sighted peeps and happy blind peeps.

After group lesson, I participated in Home Management, Orientation & Mobility & Keyboarding.

In Home Management, I spent most my time orienting myself to the kitchen, finding the large and small appliances, silverware, kitchen tools, etc..  I am in class with two other students.  One student made a fruit salad and then turned it into smoothies for everyone.  The other made a cherry cobbler.  Really cool to witness and partake of their Success.

Orientation & Mobility was spent in the back hallway near my office.  To give you perspective, I was told that walking the hall 6 times would equal 1 mile.   I believe I walked it at least 10 times, practicing my cane techniques which was put to the test when I was asked to find all of my classes for the next day.   The first time, I was successful in finding all of my classes, except one.  I had gone too far before making a right and ended up in a room full of supplies.  My first thought was, "Why the heck are there canes and a chair in the hall."  "Really, did I just think that?" was my follow up thought.  I got a bit frustrated which is not a good thing when I should be thinking and problem solving.  My O&M instructor came in, and rather than guide me out started prompting me with who could I hear, where did I think I was, etc..  Once I found the door (after what felt like 10 minutes), I was back in the hallway where I was able to find everything again.  Success.

My last class of the day was Keyboarding.  I was pretty excited for this class, because I felt like this wouldn't be "as" challenging.  Let's just say I was completely wrong.  On a good day, I typically type 50-60 wpm, using my Mac keyboard.  Today it took me 35 minutes to just log into the computer.  I was suppose to type in a specific password to get into the typing program.  I lost track after typing it wrong 20 times and was like, 'What the H Mario?"     Because passwords are asterisks (*) on a screen, I was only hearing "asterisk, asterisk, asterisk.." instead of the letter and  unable to pinpoint the mistyped letter.  After I was successful, I gasped, "Finally, what the H.E. Double Toothpicks!!!"  Yup, said it exactly like that without swearing.   I had 15 minutes left of class and was able to complete 6 lessons.  93 to go.

Success.

Selfie with sleepshades during my lunch break.  

We're Going to Party Like It's 1996

November 23, 1996, the day before my oldest was born.  It was also the last time I worked full time "outside of the home"...  until, today.  Coming on 17 friggin years, peeps.  Deep breath.

The past 16 years, I have spent most of my days caring for my children, keeping the house in order, dabbling in a few part time ventures, volunteering my butt off, and advocating for the educational rights of children with special needs.  It's been a joy.   So why the change?

Aside from the upcoming "big" expenses of missions, college, and marriages.. I have had this nagging feeling of getting back into the grind.  I grappled with the idea of starting my own business, furthering my education.. but nothing felt "worth" jumping feet first into a full time commitment.  Until now.

I have always been impressed with Utah's Vocational Rehabilitation Center that services blind and visually impaired adults (DSBVI).  When I developed Project STRIVE, I was able to hire and work closely with competent, successful, blind adults who were full time instructors at the center.  They not only worked their 40 hours a week, helping blind and visually impaired individuals reach their highest potential, but they were passionate about spending their day off (Saturday) helping transitioned aged teens.   It was a beautiful thing.

Several weeks ago I was offered a position and today I officially started working for the Division of Services for Blind & Visually Impaired as a "Sensory Impairment Specialist".  My two youngest also started school the same day/time.   Luckily, my awesome husband took charge of carpool, ironing school clothes and balancing the morning, taking the children's calls, and pick ups.. so I could have a positive first day.

So.. what will I be doing?  For starts, I will be going through an intense training for 3-4 months.  The center calls it  "Cross Training" where I will be working alongside students and being taught by instructors in 1) Woodshop 2) Braille 3) Home Management 4) Orientation & Mobility & 5) Keyboarding and eventually Technology.  The kicker, I will be doing all of this training under sleep shades (blindfolds), 7 hours per day.  After the training.. I will be assigned an instructor position which remains a mystery.

I will be using this blog to share my feelings and experiences I will have each day during this training period.  I am excited, scared, have feelings of inadequacy, and open minded to what lies ahead.

Today, I spent most of my time getting introduced to staff & going over policy & procedures.   I officially started, or "launched" (as my supervisor announced) "cross training" a few hours before the day ended.   My first class, ORIENTATION & MOBILITY.  Ask my kids.  Finding addresses & knowing which direction I am headed is not my forte'.  This class frankly makes my stomach cramp.  I put on my sleep shades, spent time talking to my instructor about the value of cross training, grabbed my long white cane, headed out my office door, and took a left to the back of the building.    I was taught a few rules.. how to hold the cane in my palm (don't grip tight), tap it shoulder width, don't tap higher than 1" off the ground, tap in sequence, don't tap hard against the wall.  I was taught to keep my chin up, "look" toward where I am going and problem solve when I get stuck or turned around.   Yes, I got stuck and turned around.  The cool thing is,  my instructor didn't say... this is where you should go but rather, "Where do you think you are?"  "How do you think you can get out?"
"What are things you remember passing?"   I think this type of instruction was brilliant.  Even though I wanted her to point me in the right direction, especially when I was stuck.. she allowed me to explore and then gave me the freedom to figure or problem solve on my own.  I was able to find my classes for tomorrow and return to my office.  I learned a few non visually tips such as using guide finger to place the key and unlock my door.  It was very enlightening experience.. and this was just the first 90 minutes of the next 600 hours.  Crazy!!

Tomorrow awaits a longer day under sleep shades and more experiences to come.

Hello. You.

A fews weeks ago I stopped by Target hoping I wouldn't see anyone and ran into a childhood friend.   Even though Stephanie was a year older, she included me in school and church activities.  It was REALLY good seeing her and feel her awesome spirit.  She said, "Marla, I follow your blog..."  Ha!  What blog?  So, I promised I would write an entry.  Hi Stephanie (and my 8 followers).  Yo.

So.. the rest of the entry is actually one that has been sitting in my draft box for about 6 months.  Shortly after my "18 friggin Years" entry I wrote a follow up, "What came Next".  I didn't publish because I had more to write.  Rather than write more... I will post and THEN write more.  I know most people blog about their current situation  I will eventually get to that, but felt compelled to start from the beginning.   I have a strong belief that God puts us in different situations to mold us or prepare us for what is to come or what decisions we are to make in the future.

So.. what happened after we got hitched?  After a quick honeymoon (don't read into that), Michael and I were quickly faced with reality.  We rented a small apartment in Clinton, Utah.   We weren't as concerned with the size, but grateful for the price which was a bargain at the time.  Our apartment consisted of a large room that was divided by a wall.  One side of the wall was our living room which fit a couch, lazy boy chair and small t.v.  The other side of the wall was our bedroom which fit our queen size bed and dresser drawer.  Our kitchen was basic and had a gradual slope that went into our  bathroom.  Every morning we could hear our neighbor getting ready (often times we could hear him peeing) and we would say good morning through the walls.

I had one semester left at Brigham Young University, which consisted of a full time internship in Therapeutic Recreation.  I was fortunate to land a position at McKay Dee Hospital, under the direction of Shelly Oda.  I had the unique experience of working with patients with varying diagnoses from strokes to traumatic brain, to spinal chord injuries.   I worked with a team of doctors, physical and occupational therapists and other specialists in creating a plan that would help the individual regain quality of life, which included recreation and leisure.  I still have vivid memories that shaped the way I how I view and treat others, no matter what situation they are in physically, mentally or emotionally.  It also gave me a unique perspective that life can quickly change.  Most of the patients I worked with were living "normal lives" and due to an unforeseen health issue, a decision they made, or being in the wrong place at the wrong time led to severe health issues that changed their life in an instance  Paralysis, brain injuries, severe infections, breathing difficulties, speech, etc...

I can't remember how long a semester was (3 months) but during this time I was not able to work another job and believe I earned a $200 stipend.  

Our first year of marriage was REALLY tough.  Michael and I rarely saw each other, and when we did we were both exhausted and probably not our best selves.   Coming into a marriage with very little savings, was a big shock on my system.  I came from a home where my parents were quite generous.  They paid for a majority of my schooling, apartment, food, and other needs.   I didn't have to worry-- ever.    I was really lonely,  quite selfish, and always worried about how we were going to survive financially.   Michael on the other hand was like, "what's the big deal..we pay our tithing.. things will work out."   He had been on his own since he was 16, and this was not his first rodeo.  Even though Michael was attending Weber State full time, he worked several jobs as a waiter, banquets at Weber State and a few graveyard shifts as a Psych Technician.  I don't know how we did it, but we survived.  Thank goodness.

After graduating from BYU in Therapeutic Recreation, I worked in a group home with adults with developmental disabilities for several months.   I really enjoyed those I worked with, but who I worked for was painful.    I was quickly promoted as a recreation therapist to the director's right hand women.  I was completely taken advantage of, having to work long hours, graveyard shifts and on call (yes, I wore a sexy pager).   My boss was an office smoker, had terrible language, and a complete disregard for people.  I have never QUIT a job before, and it was a very difficult decision to make since I knew we needed my income to survive.  Michael was completely supportive of my decision and I quit without having another job lined up.

I had heard that UPS was hiring in Salt Lake City, so we packed up and moved to an apartment in West Bountiful.   We were blessed to find another affordable apartment behind the Chapman's home on 800 West.  We were quickly welcomed to the neighborhood and made friends of all ages.  I landed the job at UPS as a customer service representative, and Michael continued to commute to Weber State.

UPS has excellent health benefits and we went on a hay-day getting health and dental check ups.  One thing that was bothering Michael were his wisdom teeth and we knew they needed to come out.   It's customary for anyone serving an L.D.S. mission to get their wisdom teeth removed before they depart.  I always wondered why Michael's were not removed.    Upon his initial visit, the oral surgeon told Michael he had a small growth on the inside of his cheek that he could take out when he pulled his teeth.  Michael said he had this growth for a long time.   On the day of his surgery, I took Michael in so I could drive him home.  I remember reading a magazine and the doctor came out during the procedure.  He explained that the growth was much bigger than he expected and felt that someone with more experience should handle it.  He said he was able to take a sample and wanted to biopsy it to make sure it wasn't cancerous.  Huh? Cancerous?  He reassured that this was more of a precautionary measure and would be very rare if it came back cancerous.

Several days past.  Mike is working and our neighbors are over for a visit.  The phone rings.  It's Mike.  "Hi Marla, how are you?" (in an upbeat voice).   I don't want you to worry (sudden pit in my stomach).  I. have. cancer. 

Halloween, You're Not Setting Me Up For Success.

I grew up in a household where we recognized holidays.  I would rate that we celebrated in moderation.  Christmas was definitely at the top of the list with a decked out house inside/out, homemade goodies at will, parties, etc..   Halloween & St. Patty's Day tied for last place.

To give my mom credit, she had her traditional cute decorations, homemade pumpkins made out of orange construction paper taped in every window in the house.  Costumes were not as big of a priority. My mom had a huge "dress up" basket in the basement of costumes she made for school plays, church productions, or Madrigal concerts.  The five of us kids would rotate each year wearing a clown/jester costume, deer, cowboy/girl, 50's girls, punk rock star, and dracula.  I have fond memories stuffing my costume in my backpack on Halloween so I could have it ready for the annual Hannah Holbrook school parade.  Toward the end of the school day we slipped into our costumes and marched in and out of classes showing off our duds to visitors who came to watch.

After school we would walk home in our costumes and then sit and wait and count down the time we would go out with our pillow cases and trick or treat around the neighborhood.  If you took candy out of the equation, I really did not enjoy trick or treating.  It was typically freezing, raining, or snowing.  You had to wear your coat over the costume (doesn't that defeat the purpose?) and there were always houses that enjoyed scaring the bajeezes out of children.  Why??    I usually went with my younger sister Lynette.  When we would approach a dark home with haunting music, she would remind  me it was all fake and then squeal and giggle when an unsuspecting stranger would jump, scream, or lower a stuffed sheet (i.e. ghost) off their balcony.  To this day I hate haunted houses, horror movies, and scary books.

Fast forward to 2011.  Unfortunately, BOTH Mike and I are not big fans of Halloween or anything related to it.  When my oldest sister, Cyd lived close by we would party every year because my oldest niece was born on Halloween.  They had awesome parties, decorations, games, food.  Unfortunately, my children were non existent or too young to remember.  Once they moved away, it went downhill from there.

Poor, unfortunate children.

Costumes?  I typically buy costumes the year before on clearance.  Last year Lauren found a witch costume she loved (thank goodness). It was either that or a ninja costume.  

Decorations?  Don't ask.  Let's just say my kid's dropped hints like, "A pumpkin would look nice on the front porch".

Trick of Treating?  Adam and Megan have reached the, "You are too old to go trick of treating".  In our home, sixth grade is the official cut off day.    This year I didn't hear too many grumblings from Megan who was invited to go (really?? 9th graders??) but stayed home and manned the door.  Adam on the other hand has been dropping hints since the first of October. This is my child who has not worn a costume and "been himself" for Halloween for the past 5 years.  Who typically goes to 3 or 4 doors and says, "I'm done".  Now that he's reached his "you can't go" deadline, he decides Halloween is fun and something he wants to do.  With a little compromise, he invited a good friend up and they hung out at the "cool" neighbors home who splurges on hotdogs, hot chocolate, and movies in their yard and snuck away for an hours to knock on some doors.  Does that count for pre-missionary work?  Knocking on doors?  Rationalization, I know.

Speaking of knocking on doors.  We had some pre-teens knocking on our door at 9:45 p.m.  What the heck?  It's a school night punks.  Mike was really nice and told me to chill.  I asked him if he gave them the raisin oatmeal granola bars I had set aside for those that looked 16 and older.  He didn't respond.

Halloween Resolution.

I am going knock my kid's socks off and go waaaaay overboard.  Make up for lame-o Halloween memories.  Killer party, haunted house, homemade costumes, regular sized candy bars for the neighbor kids.

Slap, slap.  Marla, let's be real.   After writing all that, it's not gonna happen.  Baby steps.  Next year, party and a few decorations may suffice and bring my "mom status" up from lame to okay.  Disclaimer:  Whatever is written in a blog does not count as a promise.

Onto what really matters.  Here's 2011 Pictures of my awesome kids and sexy husband (mullet and all).

FIYA FIGHTA

I was organizing some videos today on my computer.  I found myself laughing, crying, saying "awwww", talking back to some of them, and realizing how time doesn't stand still and to enjoy every second we have with our kiddos.

I have over 100 clips, but here are some of my favorites for today.

FIYA FIGHTA

ADAM'S SKATEBOARDING SKILZ

ADAM PRESCHOOL PROGRAM KISS

MEG'S TAE KWON DO KICK- KA POW, OW.

Eighteen Flippin' Awesome Years.

It's official, eighteen years with the man of my dreams.

The beginning 
My journal states that I met Michael, October 3, 1991 in Ensley, Alabama where we were both serving as missionaries for our church,   His name wasn't mentioned the first time I met him, but my journal pages following are filled with experiences we had with members or investigators in the area or P-Day activities (such as me gloating that I kicked Elder Palmer and Wood's butt in racquetball).   Another time I wrote how he told me my status as a missionary was going down.  I wrote that I gave him a piece of my mind and explained I wasn't here to impress my Zone Leaders.   I really didn't like him at first.

Michael was an AWESOME missionary!

Even though Michael was "full of himself", obnoxious, and a bit energetic, we ended up being really good friends.  I was always impressed with the way he could walk into a strangers house and become instant friends, helping himself to contents in their fridge and then inviting them to church.  He had an infectious laugh, dimpled smile, charming southern accent.  Of course, being a missionary I didn't recognize those physical qualities until AFTER I got home (*wink, wink).  What impressed me the most was his testimony of Jesus Christ.  He was an amazing missionary.

Fast forward.. Elder Palmer is transferred into another area (his last).  While serving in Greensboro (Catfish Capital of Bama), I received a surprise visit in March of 1992 before he left to go back home to Gilmer, Texas.   He tells me that President Matthews wanted him to bring down some Book of Mormons since we were running low (we were).  It wasn't until later that I put two and two together.  A few weeks after, President Matthews came down to our area and handed us a full box of books during a Zone Conference.  That lil' rascal!

Michael's "official" missionary visit before heading home.

A few weeks later after Michael went home, I received a letter in the mail telling me about his venture home, his future plans, how he admired me for "this and that" and ended the letter stating he would like to date when I get home.  SCCREEEEECCCCHHH!!  What the heck?

Yes, I thought Elder Palmer was a GREAT guy, he was charming (but he was with everyone).  I didn't see that one coming.  My companion at the time would say otherwise (especially when we put two and two together about his "official visit").  I immediately wrote him back telling him that I was flattered, but I had another 8 months to serve and to get on with his life.  I heard from him a handful of other times during the next 8 months, but nothing that would make me SCREEEEECH!!

Sometime during November 1992, a few days before I was headed home from my mission, I got a call.  My missionary companion said, "Bubba" is on the phone.  "Bubba?"   When I answered it was Michael, "Heeeeeeyyyyy!  You are coming home!  Are you excited?  I'm in Utah.  Can I come to the airport?"

Me:  "Seriously?"  Who is this guy?

I tell him no (awkward silence).  I didn't share this with him, but my biggest fear at the time was, "What are people going to think if Elder Palmer was to show up at the airport!?"

*Gasp*

I am freaking out at this point.  Breaking the awkward silence I invite him to my homecoming.  Michael will tell you that I completely ignored him at my homecoming, but he still had the courage to ask me out on a date.  Freaking out again!!  I'm home one day, going on my first date with an Elder from my mission, and.... I kind of like him.

Our first date was a hockey game and video after with his best friend, Elder Low from our mission.  We had a blast, I had a side ache from laughing, and I REALLY noticed the infectious laugh, dimpled smile, charming southern accent.   Our night did not end with a kiss (that may have put me over the post-missionary edge), but he saluted me at the door.  I held in my laugh until I went inside the house and burst out laughing.  That's right folks, a salute.  Even more endearing.

Dating Days.

From that day on, we continued dating, were engaged and were married and sealed for all eternity on September 8, 1993.

Reflections
I look back at our 19 years of marriage.  Along with some really great times, we've had our share of challenges.  Getting through college, cancer, children with disabilities, and balancing our lives, including staying connected with a husband who travels 50% of the year, and a wife (that's me)  that has little patience and is guilty of  get easily frustrated.

Thank goodness for the gospel of Jesus Christ, the knowledge of eternal families, sacred promises we have made to God and each other, and a darn good marriage therapist.

What I LOVE about Michael

Hilarious
Michael has a zest for life, and is one of the most positive people I have ever met.  He often makes me laugh, even when I don't feel like it.  It's not uncommon to get a call from Michael that will start like this.  "You are never going to believe what I just did..."  or  we will be driving along with our thoughts to ourselves when he will unexpectedly burst out into laughter.  When I get him to stop laughing he will start with, "I just had this random memory of when I was 13 and I...."  Never, never a dull moment.  Ask my kids who won't go to bed without turning on all the lights, checking under their beds, behind their door, in their closets.. looking for dad.

This picture pretty much describes the last 19 years....

Amazing Everything.
Aside from being an amazing husband, Michael is the ultimate Father.  He deeply cares about each of our children, will do things for them that they have no idea he orchestrated, and invests so much time and energies to make sure they are happy, safe, and loved.  Michael also deeply cares about family.  He is always wondering about his parents, brothers, sisters, my family, nieces, nephews, cousins, aunts, uncles.  His heart is definitely bigger than Texas.

Hard Worker

When we met, Michael's goal was to bypass college and become a UPS driver (good pay, good benefits).  Coming from a family where college was expected, I shared that if he got a degree it would open more opportunities.  Even though he had fears of failing, he listened.  When we were dating, he took a psychology class at UVU (I always wondered why he chose that) and got an A.  He didn't turn back and before Megan was born he earned his Bachelors.   Michael is one of the hardest workers I know.  At one point in our marriage he was working 4 jobs and going to school so I could concentrate on finishing up my schooling and internship.  Because we had one vehicle, he would take the bus to Weber State without complaint so I could have the car.   I never doubted that Michael would be successful at whatever he put his mind to.  

Simple, Supportive, Fun.

I love that Michael strives to have a simple, uncomplicated life.  He cares about serving God and his neighbors, his family, work, and having fun.   He literally bends over backwards to support me as a mother and my crazy volunteer quests.    He loves golf, recreating, and watching the Dallas Cowboys play (win or lose).  Michael isn't afraid to cry or show emotion.  He has seen "The Help" twice already and recommends it to all of his friends. He stayed up reading the Twilight Series and wanted to discuss and analyze the characters before going to bed.   The kids love to tease him about crying in the "Justin Bieber Movie".   I call him "my Phil" from Modern Family because of his quirky antics and soft heart, but he gets mad and tells me he is more like Jay.  Nope, Phil.

When Michael's excited..everyone's excited!

Love you honey!  Happy Anniversary :)

P.S.  Thanks for the flowers & handwritten note.

Ripe & Pungent. Blog Worthy, Indeed.

I saved a spot on my first blog entry for my sister's email she sent of her adventures back "home" to Qatar.  I asked for her permission to post and she sent me an edited version which included an unedited preface which I also included.  I have been encouraging Cyd to start her on blog because of the intriguing experiences she has on a daily basis living in Qatar.  Bonus: She is an entertaining, talented person which comes out in her writing.  If you think her email is blog worthy, chime in.  All six of you.

Preface.

All this hoopla over something that sounds dumb now!  Here you go.  No pressure to re-print.  It's not that funny anymore.  In fact I had a flashback whilst writing this.  On the shuttle during my dry heaves I spotted it.  Vomit.  Vomit on the floor of the shuttle bus.  Near the exit.  I'm once again proud to say it was not Woolley vomit.  But I was so overcome with my own sensory overload, and need to protect my own, that I did not warn fellow passengers as they draped their abaya's through it as they exited the shuttle.  Carry on wheels ran over it.  Men stepped in it.  Women draped their drapeys in it.  I could only tell my crew to exit through the other door, close my eyes, plug my nose and breathe deeply.  "Don't ask why just exit the other way!"  Anyway, that's pretty sad and funny at the same time.  Thanks for enjoying my writing.  It makes me smile.  But seriously, it doesn't seem that worthy of a blog!  If you do reprint, please feel free to edit as you wish.  I am seriously scared of marginalizing the already marginalized.  BLAH!  Cydney

Ripe and Pungent

We are happy to announce the safe arrival to Doha 6th year in a row.  All 416 pounds of luggage accounted for.  Once aboard our flight in Houston, we were immediately welcomed by the ripe and pungent body odors of our international fellow travelers.  Indians, Africans, Arabians, Asians, Spaniards, yes Americans, Canadians, and others, oh and Garett's flatulence added to the spicy mix of stifling body odor smells.  Luckily Jenica brought her aromatherapy sprays.  I also retreated to the toilet areas where I found alcohol wipes.  I swathed my arms, neck and chest multiple times in an attempt to camouflage the assault on my nostrils.  The flight was overbooked and toasty  warm for 15 hours.  I think I'll email this suggestion to Qatar Airways:  Please deep clean all upholstered seats after each transatlantic flight.  Fabreeze just won't do.

Now, imagine pungent smells coupled with 95 degrees and 70% humidity once we exited the plane in Qatar at 8:00 p.m..  It was a sensory smorgasbord that welcomed us home. With my new retainers in place, sweat clinging to my underlings and sweat dripping down my face, yes, I did dry heave a few times.  And no, I did not try to conceal the dry heaves in public.  In fact, I plugged my nose with my index finger and thumb as we rode the shuttle to the arrival area.  After traveling  24 hours and making it thus far without vomit, the Mother drops all social skills for survival skills.  Success.  

Even though I was resistant to returning to Doha this year, and even had a last minute plan to put the kids on the Houston flight while I returned to SLC for two more weeks of play (I am not exaggerating, I really almost did do this, ask Jenica), it did feel like we had returned to our "real home" once we hit the streets in the taxis and were left to our own Woolley family odors.

Of course I completely recognize that I may have offended every member of the human race next to me by all the heaving and plugging said nose in public.  I am sorry.  Will probably feel more sorry later on this week after jet lag has subsided.  But hopefully, those I offended with my uppity survival techniques, are emailing their families tonight - sharing stories of their safe arrival and the ripe American family that smelled like sour milk, 8 year old boy farts, sweet bath and body lotions, peanut butter pretzel breath mixed with coconut M&M's . . .shall we just call it sweet and sour Americans?

Love you all!  Thanks for the great summer!  XOXO