Carpe the Hell Out of This Diem

Yesterday, at about 5 PM, I was walking out of the Harold B. Lee Library and walking to my Doctrine and Covenants class. I had just finished a 5 page research paper on Lucy Mack Smith that I had only started that morning at about 10. I had achieved this, while still maintaining perfect attendance for the day, taking a Spanish Exam (which I got an 85% on), and going to work for 4 hours. As an added bonus, I had my gym clothes packed in my bag, so there was a very high chance I was actually going to work out later that day. As I made my way to the Joseph Smith building this image came to mind:

Thank you, Pinterest. I think I just did.

I was feeling pretty invincible. I got my phone out so that I could tweet my awesomeness to the world.

That's when I caught sight of my reflection in the window of the building I was walking past. And then I remembered, I looked like a hot mess.

My hair was in a nasty ponytail that was somehow both greasy and frizzy at the same time, which went well with the previous day's makeup. I was wearing an old pair of jeans, vans, and possibly the most unflattering sweater in my closet. Why the ugly clothes? I hadn't done laundry in a couple of weeks. My mind didn't stop there. I contemplated how my breakfast and lunch consisted of a single can of Pringles, and how I was on my way to grab some pretzels out of the vending machine to go with my diet Dr. Pepper. Dinner of champions.

In that moment, I was reminded of my own mortality, or Liz Lemon-ness if you will. Life is a great exchange, and you can't have everything. Yesterday, I guess I chose grades over beauty.

But, since I didn't run into anyone important and I did make it to the gym, I'm still going to call yesterday a success.

Tie a Yellow Ribbon 'Round the Ole Oak Tree

Have you seen the Google today? I ran across it at work and I teared up a little.


Almost 5 years ago my mom, my siblings, and I spent a Saturday morning tying yellow ribbon in the four trees on our front lawn.

We filled every tree, using a ladder to reach the highest branches.

We did this because later in the week, dad was finally coming home from Iraq!

A year before, we were getting ready to say goodbye. My mom remembers...

The worst part of Paul's deployment to Iraq was the weeks leading up to him leaving.  I started clenching my jaw.  I could hardly open my mouth which turned out to be convenient because I wasn't hungry.  It was terrifying to me to try and plan for every possible eventuality.    "What if I need a new car?" "What is the plan if I am hurt or killed while Paul is gone?"  "What is the plan if . . .?"  It was too much.   In a way it was a relief the day he left.  Finally!  We can get on with this and get it over with!  I dropped him off at the 4th Infantry Division Building, drove home and slept for four hours.  
 
It was about a week before dad was leaving, maybe it was just a few days.  Paul and I drove to Ft. Hood.  We were running errands and taking care of last minute things.  I think that day we needed to update a power of attorney or something like that.  Anyway, we were at the intersection just before the train tracks on South Ft. Hood Street and Business 1-90.  Before the light turned green the railroad crossing bars came down and we knew we were going to be sitting there awhile.  On the radio the DJ announced that the next song was "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas".  Bing Crosby sang and we were sad.  What we were enduring didn't feel little or merry.  Then he sang the words.  "A year from now our troubles will be out of sight."  It is a powerful but unhappy memory. 

I remember the train and the song and the pressure and crying into my hands, praying that Paul and I would be up to the tasks we were facing.  

That year we decorated our house in blue and silver for Christmas, instead of red and gold, and had a Blue Christmas. It was a rough year, but it ended with the safe return of our soldier.

So, on Veteran's Day, I think about those who have fought and who are fighting. But I also think of the wives and children who are eagerly counting down the days, those who are saying their goodbyes, and those who are in between, just praying not to hear bad news today.

But mostly, I think of my dad.