Finding Peace in the midst of ALS

This month, I had the opportunity to visit my brother Jon's family twice. The first visit was at the impetus of my brother, Gerry, who lives in London and wanted to visit. Six of the seven Neu siblings were able to gather at Jon's house, working on home improvement projects, visiting, and eating yummy food. I went up yet again two weekends after to help with more home improvement projects and just try to be of service.

With each passing week and every visit, I think about this diagnosis. I try to understand it. How should I help? How should I feel? How DO I feel? Should I be doing this differently? Should I be understanding this differently?

When Jon was first diagnosed with ALS, it was very difficult to come to terms with. I read books about the disease, and the odds he faces.My family members and I started a frenzy of fasting, praying, pleading for healing, for beating those odds. I grappled with images and stories of others with ALS, like the Team Gleason commercial above, and  the documentary "Indestructible". Putting Jon's face into these stories causes me such anguish, even if the stories are infused with hope.

We don't know what the future holds.  But we must acknowledge our reality, including the fact the disease is progressing. While coming to terms with this reality is still difficult, I find peace in these thoughts:

We all still have a lot of hope for that better future. Miracles and cures are always possible.

I repeatedly remind myself that I have not actually lost my brother. In fact, I'm lucky he's still here. Some people lose their loved ones in an instant -- wonderful people who are treasured, just as much as my brother.

Despite my good fortune, I repeatedly experience feelings of devastation and loss. This will likely not stop. And it's OK. Obviously Jon is not gone, but the invincible Jon, and my expectations of a future invincible Jon -- they have been diminished. That is something to grieve.

As much as I feel overwhelmed to process this, I struggle even more to imagine how it would feel to be Jon in this situation. As I consider how to manage emotions in this uncertainty, I try to remember to be most mindful of his.

We, his extended family, fumble with how to anticipate and accommodate Jon's family's needs. But it's a kind, loving thing to fumble with.

My sister is picking up her whole family and moving to Minnesota, just to be there in case that would be helpful. She's awesome. My whole family is awesome.

It doesn't matter to me whether they "really need something" or if something could be put off till later. If there is something to do and I'm able,  I will seize the opportunity. We may not be able to move heaven and earth, or cure my brother, but we can do everything within our capacity to help-- if for no other purpose, just to prove that if we could, we would. And we do.

I am unwilling, despite my good fortune that his disease is not taking him from us more quickly, to give Jon up to ALS. Even if losing Jon to ALS was inevitable (which it's not). I won't give him up till I have to.

ALS And My Brother Jon

Something most people don't know about me. When I meet new people, and love them (Which I usually do. I can't help myself), there's one thing I want to do: I want to share them with the people I love -- aka my family. I imagine bringing them into the fold, and saying, " You're gonna love this." And then they would love it. I think I want to do this so they can enjoy the comfort, joy and love that is my family.  But I can't get you there, mostly because "there" does not exist. My family is geographically very dispersed. You'd think people who like each other so much would live closer together. Alas, 'tis not so.  But I can bring a little of my family to all of you, right here on my blog. And I can bring you no better than the fine specimen named Jonathon Tilton Neu. I shall tell you about him.

As many of you may be aware, my brother, Jon, was recently diagnosed with Lou Gehrig's Disease, also called Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis, or ALS. As this news will likely be the impetus for many future posts, I'd like to tell you about my brother. First, he's pretty cute. And we Neu's are incredibly superficial, so we want you to know how good-looking we are, first and foremost. See picture of happy, adored son, devoted brother, and doting father below:

1. Thing to adore about Jon: he is hilarious. Both he and his wife Anne are a good time, in a red-neck, best not come here if you're too good for your britches, kind of way. Pretentious and self-important folk need not apply here. But you're missing out. Just sayin'.

2. Thing to hate about Jon: He's incredibly good at pretty much all strategy games. I love strategy games. And I'm decent at some of them. On some occasions I lose. I much prefer winning, but just by a little, so you still enjoy the game too and think you have a fighting chance. :) Sadly. I lose against Jon pretty much all the time. It's kind of unsatisfying, yet addictive, like gambling at a casino (a fitting analogy, as my chances of winning there are probably as good). My only solace is that everyone I have seen play has succumbed to defeat when they play with Jon. I don't know how he figures out how to win so fast. And while it's remarkable, it drives me crazy.

3. Thing to be worried about Jon: He has amazing power over children. They love him. And they want to do anything that he says just for the joy of pleasing him. I know, because I used to be that young kid and I would have done anything for Jon when I was little. (Ok, so that's still true). Sounds like a good thing, right? Yeah, UNTIL you consider the fact that I now have 28 nieces and nephews.  And while I don't normally worry about holding my own around people smaller than me, I have been made aware of the fact that 20+ of them CAN, in fact, throw you into a pool, whether you want them to or not, as long as Jon wants them to. Jon has a veritable army at his disposal. Small but mighty. You've been warned. 

4. Thing to admire about Jon: He's as strong as an ox. While the rest of us poor saps are portaging canoes by twos, Jon takes the heavy ones all by himself. I'm gonna guess he gets it from my farming grandfather on my mom's side. Us little Jews with my dad's genes just can't hack it.

5. Thing to relish about Jon: He's a feeder and he makes yummy food. Favorite foods to enjoy at his house include homemade pizza (he used to work at a pizza place in high school and they taught him good), goulash & galushka (did I mention we're Hungarian Jews?), all things barbecue, and wassail. And whenever planning a get-together with Jon, you can rest assured that food will be a primary consideration. Even ahead of sleeping arrangements. It's a big deal.

6. Thing to idolize about Jon: He has a heart of gold. he's taught me at least a few times about how to be less judgmental and to pay attention to important, as opposed to stupid, things. He has a gift for making people feel welcome and special. Maybe it's because he has a great laugh which he applies liberally, and he has a charming, witty, self-deprecating sense of humor.Whatever it is that he has, it disarms everyone.

7. Thing to take into consideration when doing anything with Jon: He has an intimate relationship with the laws of physics, and tests them regularly, with mostly success but some fails. You wanna know how large of a bonfire you can build next to your house without catching your home on fire? Jon knows. You wanna know how to handle an off-road vehicle without flipping over or pitching anyone off? Jon mostly knows. I think. You wanna know how fast and curvy you can drive the boat without killing the people riding on the tube you're pulling? You hope Jon knows. Because he's the one driving. You wanna know the limits of the power of a potato gun? I'm not sure, but I'm gonna guess Jon knows. I'm sure he's come across one. Jon's experience with most things imbues a naive level of confidence in his ability to take care of you while getting very close to the limits of important laws. Like gravity. Momentum. And Thermodynamics. And you wade into the situation thinking, "It's all good because he's tested the limits already." And that's true. And he'll verify that it's true, and that everything is good. And it IS all good... until you realize he's still "testing".

8. Thing to always remember about Jon: Call him Philippe. No, really. Do. Why? Well, my Dad is French, so he probably didn't know better. And my mother is innately very accommodating. But being the good mother she is, she couldn't let that happen, so she went back to the hospital to have it changed on the birth certificate to Jonathon. Only, she didn't know it was too late. Philippe would never totally be gone when there were six siblings to remember Philippe existed.

9. Thing to grin about Jon: Sometimes he makes sounds like Yogi Bear. It's awesome. 

10. Thing that makes this thing about Jon really hard: He has a huge presence, and is sorely missed when he's not there. 

Tom Hanks is my favorite actor.And I know he's an American sweetheart to many for a number of reasons, but I think TH was bound to be my favorite one because he looks like Jon. I named my car Tom Hanks, as associating the car with both the actor and  my brother makes me smile on a regular basis.

So, here's my brother Jon. You can fall in love with him too. I will probably be talking a lot about him and expounding on meditations on life and faith that have occupied my mind and heart since his diagnosis. More to come. Much love to you all.

Bad News

I got on the bus after work. I left the office just a few minutes after I got the text. “Confirmed.” I didn’t leave the office because I was upset about the news. And I didn’t leave the office early or rushed, except that I was rushed because I was about to miss the bus. However, the timing was serendipitous, as it was best, as the news sunk in, that I was on the bus. On the bus, though surrounded by strangers, I was also alone, sitting in my own row, able to turn my face to the window that I knew was tinted so that no one in traffic could see me as we passed. And the roar of traffic, the hum of the large bus engine, and the loud air conditioning system were enough to give me hope that I was in my own space; that all that noise would separate me from my surroundings like walls,  enough to drown out my silent cries and distract from my anguished side face sufficient that no other passengers would notice. It came faster than I thought it would, and I was so glad for it.

Glad to cry? Yes. I wanted to cry all the way home. I wanted to cry long enough so that I could come home and see Ben, and he would see me and know that I was hurt. And I could cry about it in his arms. But I knew that was unlikely because the bus ride is about 45 minutes, and after that time passes, I have a 10 minute drive from the park and ride. And I rarely cry for a full hour. I was sad. And thinking about my own sadness about this made me feel quite vain. After all, it wasn’t my news. Why did I need anyone to see me? I was already crying in public, after all. And yet, despite my wish to expose my pain, I had my hair as much forward in front of my face, and my face angled towards the window as much as possible, so that none of the other passengers would be exposed to my intimate, and exposed emotions.

I cried because I was defiant in the face of the news. I refused to accept it and yet I knew I was helpless to change it. Confirmed. I had assumed for the last two weeks that this would be the news. They’d already told me there as about an 85% likelihood this was the case. And I had already cried about it multiple times. Did I really need to cry about it again? Apparently. And I was glad to. My heart was feeling broken. I let my mind explore all the fears this diagnosis could conjure. Fears of mine, and threatening realities for all those closest. I don’t want these visions to become true. I thought if I stopped thinking about it then my tears would stop. But even in dwelling on my own selfish desires, desire to be crying and to cry with Ben, for my own selfish purposes, the tears did not stop. 

I cried up until we pulled out of the park & ride stop before mine. That was about 30 minutes into my 45 minute ride. I would not cry all the way home after all. As I suspected. But I would defiantly leave my mascara all over my cheeks so that he knew. I would not wipe this hurt away or soften it. I wanted it to be recognizable and clear. As I pulled down the mirror in my car visor to see how ridiculous I really looked, I was surprised by how much more my right eye had teared up than my left, as evidenced by the uneven distribution of black crumbles of mascara over my two cheeks.

I drove home a stoic. And I walked in the door. Ben was just a few steps away, sitting at the computer in the office, which has its doorway facing the door to the garage, where I entered the house. Upon hearing the stir of my arrival, he said, “You’re home! How was your day?"  It was a very normal, cheery greeting. And though I had wanted to weep in his arms, the normalcy evoked a reflexive normalcy in myself. Suddenly, I wanted to say “Good. How was yours?” And I would have probably responded that way to anyone else, even in that moment, on that evening. But it was Ben. And before I replied, I admonished myself to respond acknowledging what had happened, as if to respond normally would have been disrespectful. I would have told him earlier. I would have sent him a text too. But I left my phone in the office in my rush not to miss the bus. And perhaps because I was more frazzled by the news than I had thought. He would want to know too. And so I responded with something that let him know that I’d gotten bad news, but I can’t really recall what I said. He said, “They got the results back? What did they say?” And only then did I look at him, and said, “I think you can guess.” And he saw my make-up stained cheeks. I was so glad for them, not for my vanity that he would know I was hurt, but because it meant I didn’t have to say any of those words. 

Saying things out loud is more earth-shattering than just understanding something, and it would have been painful to do in that moment. It was shattering enough that we were acknowledging the news out loud. Even in indirect references. I was glad not to have to say the words. Or word, as it were. I put my bags down. And Ben, as sweet as he was, and as strange as it must have been to him as I am not sure if I have ever cried in his arms, even after five years of marriage, came to me to give me comfort. And to my relief, all the tears came right back. And I cried for a few moments.

I made sure not to cry for too long. After all, I had cried on the bus enough. Was it controlled crying? What's uncontrolled crying? My emotional outburst was paradoxical to the controlled thoughts in my head. When is it proper to stop? Should I stop now because I'd already cried enough? I don't want to wear out Ben's shoulder. Perhaps if I don't stop myself now, I could go on forever. Or just too long. Stop now? Now? Now. I can stop now. I never seem to let my brain turn off enough to let my emotions have their way. They never take me over completely. And I wondered if at this point I just cried because I was in a habit of crying, rather than crying because of the news.

But maybe that’s how it is when you get bad news. Perhaps the news itself is like a dagger. And it wounds you. And even if you remove the dagger, and don’t think about it, you’re still wounded. And you still bleed. And it bleeds out after that, whenever something brushes up against it to break up the scab, be it external provocation, a passing thought, or just because you're moving around too much and hurting things inside that are still fragile. Yes, it’s like a wound.

This does not explain the joy in my tears. There was a time when I did not cry like this. When tragedy would strike those I loved. And while I knew my soul was wounded, or at least very much should be, I did not feel the wounds. As a young girl, I remember riding on the bus from school, conjuring up imaginings of family tragedy and personal losses, just to see if I could get myself to cry.  I suspect that on a subconscious level I was aware I was disconnected from my feelings. But I didn’t know they’d been dislodged from me like one might have a dislocated shoulder.

It wasn’t until I started dating Ben that I learned I had issues with emotional dislocation. I found myself  on several occasions during our courtship crying for no reason, unprovoked, without any daggers to my soul, by odd triggers. And I went to therapy because I had no idea how else to figure out what was going on. And in therapy, emotions I had buried, unable to acknowledge at a much more tender age, came bubbling up to the surface. I acknowledged them out loud for the first time, over 20 years after they happened. Quiet all that time. And yet still there. I had no idea until then that there were words I had never said out loud. Or that saying things out loud mattered so much. Or hurt so much. And they were shattering to say. But they were also very healing. All those years, I had no idea how much I wasn’t feeling. My emotions have since come back to me, taking their place close to me, more and more as time goes by.

So it may seem strange to some. And though it is selfish and odd to put it this way, I was so grateful to be devastated. I wondered if it wasn’t possible the Savior was also glad in the garden of Gethsemane to feel all he felt for our pains and our anguishes and our wounded souls. Because I think, at its most basic level, pain is often the thing that connects us. For me, it is an evidence of my devotion and my love. But rather than a conscious sense of devotion as I’ve had in the past, it is instinctive. I have been wounded and I can feel this wound. And each time they come, though I would wish these daggers to cease to exist, I would never wish to not feel the resulting pain from the emotional wounds and share in that agony. For those you love, you wish to feel nothing less. 

Neu Family Reunion: 2013: Tea Party Details

Ben and I took a trip to Utah to attend a week-long reunion extravaganza with my family, and to celebrate my parents' 50th wedding anniversary. We started doing these bi- annual reunions -- oh, it must have been 10 years ago, as this is the fifth such reunion I can remember. Each one seems all the more precious to me.

There were a lot of activities. One of my favorites: all the girls got together for a Tea Party at Kerrie's House. Treats abounded!

 

 

Kerrie did an amazing job with the decor and setting everything up just enough so my nieces were pretty much delirious from tea party dreams come true.

And the birthday girl even got to wear a special crown.

Girly activities included nail painting, tea time etiquette education a' la Jane Austen by Emilie Ann, singing performances by the new Neu generation, a fashion show, a baby shower for Erika, birthday hullabaloo for Bitsy, and a lovely Q&A with my dear mother, the matriarch of the family, where we listened to and recorded her answers to some of life's big questions and got to hear and rehear some of her amazing stories. 

 

Tragically, I couldn't find a photo of my mom at this event. But I promise she was a big deal! And it was a wonderful afternoon. We should get together, just ladies, more often. This was such a a good time!

PS -- Thank you Kerrie & Erika for taking such fabulous photos all week long! AKA -- pictures courtesy of my two amazing sisters-in-law

Uncharted Waters

Life is always changing. I love it for that. And sometimes I hate it for that. As I grow older, and try to grow a little wiser, I try to make sense of where I'm going and where I've been. Of course, where I am is also a good place to look.

I'm working away at school and work. I'd like to finish my MBA. I think it's a good thing to do. And Ben and I are working on building up savings and paying off debts ( my car loan is the big ticket right now).

I still consider myself as being in an adjustment period, despite the fact that I have now lived in Cincinnati and been married for almost 2 years. I think I will always be in an adjustment period, no matter how long I'm married for or where I live.

My independent streak doesn't die easy. There are some things I love about the single life. I lived it for so long. By its very nature, it lends itself to a lot of personal indulgence and even decadence. Married life has its own decadence, but there's no question that you give up some personal freedoms and, for me, a certain amount of irresponsibility that I felt entitled to while single. I'm so much more responsible when married. It's by all measures a good thing, but it's still different. I haven't gotten a speeding ticket married -- good thing. I haven't gone on an unplanned, unfettered or unrestrained shopping spree either -- probably also good but much less fun. I haven't gone missing for an entire Saturday, doing whatever I fancied and telling no one, since married. I will cease and desist in the things I miss about my life as a single girl. Suffice it to say, a few past indulgences are missed.

Now that I have my own family, my place at church has also changed. Before, I was single and I dwelt in a realm of singles at church. Now I am a married. And while I dwell among married people, I also dwell (pretty exclusively) around married's who have children. Ah, yes.... children.

I was in a gospel doctrine class in my home ward in NJ last week and heard a poignant comment made by my old YW President, "we tend to think of ourselves as exceptions to the rule." I could be a little paranoid, but some things I've read in the Ensign and church lesson plans, and things mentioned in conversations I've had with close friends and family, were ringing in my ears when I heard that. Most notably:

"you shouldn't put off having children."
"Don't wait to have children until you think you can afford them".
"You shouldn't put your career before children."

Are you noticing a theme? People haven't necessarily said it just like that, and for the most part my family has been very unjudgmental (at least to my face) about our not having children yet. But advice is advice and the Apostles of the Church tend not to mince words. And in one way or another, It's obvious that I am guilty of all of these things. Up until about 2 years ago, I waited to have kids because I wasn't married. That's a really good reason, in my opinion. And by the time I got married, I had at least a couple of things I wouldn't have had if I'd gotten married earlier (mostly, I think of my car loan and mortgage). So, I tend to think of myself as a little bit of an exception. But I have other friends who were married around my age. And I am hard-pressed not to notice that they have children or/and are pregnant. Their reality is proof -- I COULD go ahead and have a kid. The real crux of the matter -- I don't think I want to yet. And I admit to wanting things to be, "just so" before I have children. I don't know if it's really ok or if it sets me off as going on a path that would be better diverted. But I find myself on this path all the same.

Here I am, 30, married, acquiring my 3rd degree, working full-time and still marveling at, learning from and watching the morphing of this thing called marriage. I have hopes of being a working mom, and of having adorable children to cart off to Primary on Sunday who cling to me for comfort, like I see children do with their parents. It all looks very appealing in my daydreams.

But in the literal, less day-dreamy, version, it is a very binding thing to become a mother. And in consideration of how responsible I've become since I got married, there's only one direction I can go with the gravitas of motherhood. I don't know how much more responsible I can stand to be. I fear I might get lost somewhere along the way. Moms do that. And I really like me, meaty thighs and all... as egotistical as that sounds. As far as I can tell, I'm the best me I've ever had.

And then, even aside from whether I'd be a happy mom, there's the other end of it: would I be a good mom? I know I'd get the kids clothed. I'm pretty sure I'd bathe them regularly, make them brush their teeth and make sure they're fed healthy food and are educated. But those are all task-oriented things. I'm good at check-lists. There is more than check-lists to parenthood.

I have lost a lot of my playfulness in my embracing of adulthood, and, admittedly, I lack understanding for the unreasonable things that children do. I think I will not be the most empathetic or fun mother. I will probably be a party pooper and sometimes stern. I may even be impatient. For some reason, I have an overarching fear that I will be like my grandmother. I feared my grandmother. My most clear recollection of her is having her reprimand me for whispering in the back seat of her car shortly after she had reprimanded me for talking... in the back seat of her car. Ok, so I don't think I'd do that. And I know I can be a fun adult. But I'm not sure I'm much of a fun mom. I suppose I can relinquish funness to Ben. Is it ok for a kid to only have one fun parent?

My past years have brought me many opportunities. For the last 10 years, I was left with the task of being a responsible, independent, self-sufficient, happy adult. I already started to wend my way through this life. I am no blank slate. I take ownership of that path and I have appreciated who it has helped me become. But what about this new job? Admittedly, I'm a little timid and reticent to totally let go of what I know. I'm fumbling and procrastinating the inevitability of my retirement. I'm bracing myself before relinquishing my past career as an unfettered female. I suppose you could fault me for wanting to leave things "just so" before I start on this next journey. But part of me think it's fair that after all those years, I should be able to leave things neatly and finish a few things up. After all, I didn't exactly choose to be single all those years. And that time wasn't a little part of me. Right now, although I know it's temporary, it seems like it's a whole lot of me. I marvel most at how free-wheeling my friends are in letting go of it. I don't know how they do it.

I'd like my life to be moving in a happy direction. And as I walk this path, I hope, above all else, that it is the right direction. It's anybody's guess. I haven't wended this way before and it's nobody else's way but my own. It could be alright. It could be all wrong. But note taken -- I'll try not to take exception to too many rules.

It was so fun to see you guys!

Ben and I are now recovering from our all-too-brief visit to Utah where we didn't get to see 1/2 as many people as we wanted to, but relished the family and friends we WERE able to visit. What can I say? Five days is just not enough. I spent my first day there hanging out with my sister, which was fabulous, while Ben pruned his parents' yard. And that night we went out to dinner with our fabulous friends, Derrick & Brian. We wish Derrick all the best on his mission to Toulouse, France (I am so jealous), and promise to try our hardest to accidentally run into him while he's there.

The next day (Friday) Ben and I woke up and went to one of my favorite places in Salt Lake -- Nordstrom Rack. Yeah for shopping! Then I whisked my dearest friend Adrian away and dragged her along with me to visit Park City. Amongst our ventures there, we saw Jane from the Peace House. Jane is one of my all-time favorites. She's savvy, sassy and smart. What's not to like about that? But alas, I have neglected to take pictures up to this point, so all this itinerary is very uninteresting, to be sure. To make up for it, I am including a couple of short videos of animals that Ben and I took with our camera while visiting the Cincinnati Zoo in March, in hopes you may find that equally amusing:






At last, I got around to using my camera Friday night. We went to Mikol & Gerrit's wedding reception. She was gorgeous! It was lovely. And we loved seeing everybody there.



On Saturday morning, it was time for the EASTER EGG HUNT!!!














(a couple of shots of the avid hunters)
















The hunters were quite pleased with their findings. And who wouldn't be. With only 5 kids and over 180 eggs to find, everyone is bound to get a lot of booty!














So many eggs so little time. Don't worry. Not all the eggs had candy in them. Some had nickels and some had, well, nothing actually.



And here is my ever-growing nephew, Chris. So tall. When did that happen!?!?! He was in diapers, crawling around with a goofy grin yesterday, I swear.



After the hunt, it was off to Ben's brother Jeremy's and his wife Larene's, in Ogden. Here are his gorgeous twin sisters, Charity & Jessica, with two adorable little nieces, Emma and Breanna. Cute!



Karla had the delightful experience of being mistaken for a human jungle gym by her nephews.



And here are a few of the Young boys relishing in one of their favorite pastimes.... video games. Daniel is sporting his new do. I must say, he looks very distinguished as a baldy.



This picture i absolutely LOVE. Ben rarely lets me take pictures of him. And when he does, he has to review them and insists I delete them because he doesn't like them. So I just started flashing pictures at him without really aiming, to be sly and stealth-like. And wadda ya know? Doesn't he look cute?



Here's Mom Young with a sleeping Kayla in her arms. You would never guess by her angelic, restful face that she will be a teenage girl with all the craziness that comes with it in just a few short years. I'm sure you're really excited about that, Larene. :)





And here are a couple of shots of one of the cutest little girls ever, Emma, being held by her mother Gretchen who is responsible for her daughter's good looks. Look at those dimples! To die for.










These are just a couple of my favorite shots of the day. May have something to do with them being a couple of my favorite people. But they just look... good.








Are you still here? Wow, you're dedicated. Last but not least, a cute shot of Dad Young playing games on Sunday with his grandsons, Carter and Henry, at Aunt Kathy's house.

We really loved seeing everybody! We miss you!

This Week

Things I'm grateful for this week:

1. My sister -- I'm SO glad she moved back and is close by and I can talk to her and see her regular and talk her ear off about all the details of my me-centric life. She humors me and loves me all at the same time. And she compliments me a lot. I like that too. And she's just awesome. She's not crazy or mean like some sisters can be. She's sensible and nice and caring and has AMAZING perspective. She's awesome.

2. Good friends -- I don't talk with as many people on a regular basis as I used to. My life has changed a bit in that regard in comparison to my early twenties. And I am grateful for all my friends. But I have some very close friends who I love having around, hearing about their lives, getting advice from them when I get to my wits end(which can happen pretty often), going on vacations with, double dating with, planning game nights with, doing choreographed lip sync routines to ridiculous song compilations, hot tubbing with, book clubbing with, going to the gym with.... the list goes on. What would I do without you?

3. Jefita -- I wouldn't be going into business without him. I wouldn't have had as many fun and crazy stories from college without him. I would not have a lot of things without him. He's a great cheerleader, a great friend, a great supporter, a hard worker, a great talent and, overall, a good person to have around. Everybody should have their own Jefita.

4. An ability to budget -- I am not a frugal person. I would say, in general, I am a terrible waster of money and very bad at saving. I am not thrifty when it comes to my wardrobe budget. Especially my shoe budget. I take vacations. I buy new cd's. I like to buy people nice presents. I just bought a new car. I buy expensive cheeses and shop at Wild Oats for most of my groceries. See? Not frugal. But I was going over all my financial obligations and necessary expenses in my head yesterday and going over my income and then the state of my bank account. (I really like doing that. Really. It's fun for me. It's like a weird, twisted, fun past-time I have to look over money and account balances and see where it all goes. I know. Weird.) Well, after all was analyzed, my conclusion is: Wow. I saved all that? With all those bills? On my little nonprofit salary? I am an amazing budgeter! I'm like Houdini! It's like the loaves and the fishes all over again! An LDS individual such as myself might also accredit and sing praises to the blessings of tithing. And I think it's true in this case. But I still like to think of myself as an amazing budgeter. It strokes my ego. But the best part is knowing I don't overspend, as it brings great peace and relief to my soul.

5. Male -- he's a boy with ill-timed napping tendencies, yes. But a good friend pointed out that as far as faults go, it could be a lot worse. On the plus side, he's really nice to me. And he calls me all the time and he likes to see me and he always opens my doors and he always tells me what he thinks as opposed to what I would like to hear (even when it would be a REALLY good idea for him to tell me what I want to hear. But at least I always know he's honest). And he's kinda cute. And I have to admit, I'm a lot more of a stable and settled kind of person since he stepped in than I was pre-Male. Much less neurotic. I know, I know. I'm still neurotic. I'm telling you -- I was REALLY neurotic before. Seriously. It wasn't healthy.

6. Music -- Given the right afternoon and a bit of free time and the right mood, the perfect cd in my car while I'm on a drive just makes me soar. Does life get better than that?

7. Airplanes -- I love love love to travel and I can't wait for my next trip. Vegas. Yeah, baby! After that, I have no idea when or where it will be to. But I know I will like it. I actually just got "roped in" to another business trip in July. I say roped in because I've decided I'll be much cooler if I act like I'm "put off" by the "inconvenience" of having to tear myself away from my life to travel for business. We'll pretend I'm cool like that. Ok, maybe not. I'm not fooling anyone. I love traveling, be it for business, pleasure or otherwise. Love it. And when I'm not doing it, I'm probably day dreaming about it. I love airplanes. They're my portal to everywhere I want to be.

8. Good coworkers -- I love good coworkers. And at my current place of employment, I have a few really CRAZY coworkers. These crazy coworkers magnify the fabulousness of the other good coworkers I have by A LOT. I like and appreciate the good ones twenty times more than I did before because of the crazy ones. Funny how that works? Thank heavens for working with people who are fun and helpful to work with.

9. My curly hair -- I don't always wear my hair curly, but I have been a lot lately and I've decided I really like my curly hair. I hate it sometimes when I have a bad hairday. I have very thick hair so as opposed to a person with a thinner head of hair, my bad hair day tends to be a lot BIGGER bunch of bad than they're smaller bunch of bad (im my humble opinion.) But despite these traumatic, large-headed days, I like my hair a lot lately. Maybe it's because I'm getting older and growing to like myself better than I used to. For whatever the reason, I'll take it.

10. My appreciation for basketball -- I actually like to watch basketball. I don't really do it of my own accord very often because I like shopping better, but when persuaded to watch a game, I really enjoy it. Male loves watching basketball and has asked me to watch many games with him over the past few months. I think our relationship would be less fun for me if I didn't actually like watching with him. Or maybe it would be less fun for him because I wouldn't be willing to do it. Either way, I like that it's a non-issue.

I didn't have too many big events or details about this week, but lots of things have struck me that I have been very grateful for, so I wanted to list them. I also updated the Sartorial Freshman as a lot has been happening with the business, so that might be why not a lot of other stuff has happened.

It just so happens that sometimes, rather than having been to a place physically, I feel like I have gone to a very profound spot, worthy of note, inside. Just those little moments where something true rings very loudly and makes you stop and notice for a moment.

They Left Me

It's official. My parents left me. Off to the MTC in Provo they went on Monday. Next week, they'll leave for London for a year and a half. And what has become of me? I have become an empty nester at such the young and tender age of 28. You may think I jest, but it's true. I'm the one with the empty house, and it is THEY who have left for greener pastures (not hard to do if you're leaving Utah -- everything is greener, except maybe Vegas). Here's a couple treasured pic's from their open house the night before they left. I spent my first evening without them at home cleaning up from the party. It was SOOOO quiet. I could barely stand it. It's a really good thing I have a roommate moving in. If I didn't, I'd probably go mad.

The Golden Snitch

What is the Golden Snitch? Or for that matter, who is the golden snitch? After receiving a rather late phone call the other day from a dear sweet friend of undefinable relation, I wondered to myself am I their golden snitch?

In the game of Quidditch, you can bust your butt the whole game long, dodging bludgers, blocking quaffles, but without the golden snitch, good luck winning.

This dear sweet relation prone to late night phone calls is raising teenagers, who I happen to be in the rather unassuming yet comfortable position of having befriended, enjoying their company, and seem to be more so of a confidant, wise in the ways of dark, sinful and exploratory life. What better tease is there for teenagers. I feel like I am going after Hansel and Grettel.

Anyways, I delay. So, the phone call consists of, "Hi", "How are you?", "Has our teenager ever talked to you about ...."

Now, my initial response to this was, "Oh, no you didn't!" (say that in your head with some sort of urbanesque dropping of important letters and syllables, with a hand up, and that awkward yet attitude demonstrating pose of getting in someone's face!) Of course, I didn't say that, but I thought to myself, how do I answer this oh so assuming and yet very invasive question?

These questions were then followed up with questions of my personal habits or behaviors, which I was also none to thrilled about. In the end, I felt like an abused step child, beaten until I could scream no more. They gave me the truth serum, and I fought it as best I could. (mind you, plausible deniability is a wonderful thing, even in situations dealing with those of undefinable relation!!) So, the "yes we talked about it, but I don't remember anything specific or earth shattering, was a wonderful statement (it happened to also be the truth! Hallelujah for bad memories!)

Am I the golden snitch? Do I want to be the golden snitch? Are they crazy and mean for putting me in the snitch position at all? I am sure anyone who is a parent is dying to have a golden snitch, but doesn't that betray all likelihood of friendship? I guess if there was something desperately wrong, but I would probably be the instigator of the conversation in that respect than otherwise.

Is the golden snitch really the key to the game? Or in the end, do you just have to say "Oh, no you didn't!"

I Live At Home

These days, if you're single and on the dating market, the words "I live at home with my parents" will stop many motivated potential mates dead in their tracks. Especially if you're a man. The idea of most men living at home with their parents says to prospective female companions, " I never grew up, mom still does my laundry and pays my phone bill, and I will probably pick her dinner over yours." These messages, among others that come to mind, are a big DO NOT BOTHER sign for many women. This is especially true when it's an older male who is of an age when he should have been able to graduate from college, and/or start a career and most definitely find life outside of video games. There is a certain point in men's lives when they should want to acquire their own space. Then they would subsequently have the independence and privacy which comes along with it. Even more so, you'd think they would like to be able to make out on the couch without worrying about getting caught. Am I right?

Such a double standard. Since I started graduate school, I moved back in with my parents. Going back to school is a fair reason to move back in, right? I thought it sounded pretty good. But here I am a year after graduation and I still "live at home with my parents." I'm 27 years old. And it's not because I can't afford to move out. I got my golden job opportunity after graduation. I make enough to live on my own. But then, are all ALWP's (Adults Living With Parents) equal offenders?

I often think my situation is very different from the middle-aged males still living with their folks. First of all, living with my parents still affords me an entire floor of the house and, therefore, much privacy. I take that back. First of all, I'm not a man. I'm a woman. There's a difference there. Secondly, what I said before. Also, I pay my own bills and do my own laundry and have a career. I am anything but a homebody. I've already lived away from home for over 5 years. And the folks are very unimposing and easy-going.

Really, it seems like an optimal situation for saving money on rent. Any of these living situation factors being less desirable would likely change my opinion and I would probably move out. I may not have even moved in in the first place. Were any of my personal attributes different, I would think I should be circumspect for being overly dependent and lacking the mojo and backbone to grow up. But I seem pretty healthy (not that I'm biased or anything.).

Speaking with a coworker from Latin America gave me even more fervor in my smart choice to live at home. The idea of having her children find their own place were they in my situation, coming from her Latin American background, isn't a symbol of independence. It's nonsense. Why would you live away from your family if you weren't married? It's a waste. And so far away.

Ahh! How liberating. Not only will I save on rent. But I shall cast off silly American consumer-minded, overly entitled, ideals that make no sense. How cool. It's clearly the best thing to do until I have reason to leave. I am nothing like those slackers who haven't grown up yet and can't take on the responsibility of providing for themselves. I'm independent. Yo.

Or am I? Truth be told, I don't know if I see myself as much different from "them" (I find it fascinating that it is so fun and easy to condemn a group, simply by labeling them as "them"). Even with my excellent situation, I still see negatives to living at home:

Negative #1: My parents are not incredibly overbearing, but they do have their opinions. And every now and again, when I finally get home, my mother will find her way up the stairs and give me the two cents she's been holding onto all week about whatever she thinks about the current status of myself and my beau, or her concern for how I work too much or don't get to church often enough or.... hmmm... so maybe her two cents' are actually the equivalent of a few dollars.

Negative #2: There is a joy in having your own space to decorate, to move into all the way, to roam and make noise as you see fit, which is less doable when you live in someone else's house. I do not decorate. It's not my house to decorate (though I'm not sure I'm much of a decorator anyway. But maybe I am. Who knows.) I also do not expand into other rooms. Everything that is mine is crammed into my bedroom. If I lived in my own place, many things would move to a living room area or an office or something like that. And I would be less cramped and perhaps more organized. And I would not have piano lessons going on in the living room when I would like to read in peaceful quiet, or to cause a raucous with workout music in that very room.

Negative #3: I do like to respect my parents and their wishes. Really, I do. I'm a sucker for being obedient AND a peacemaker -- doublewhammy.It is likely, however, if they were less privy to the details of my life, they would less frequently voice their wishes. And I would be unable to go against wishes I did not know about. And without all their wishes and advice floating around in my head, I imagine my decisions and persuasions would be slightly different and I would be....... more independent. Oh my. Hmm. Wait a minute? I'm not totally independent?

Even if I am mostly independent, I am still dependent. And I don't think it's that healthy interdependent stuff that therapists talk about as a good thing. I may have a healthy amount of social circles to run around in. I may rarely be home because I'm busy living my life. I may pay for all of my own expenses and never borrow from my parents. I may be, by nature, very mentally independent and capable of making my own choices. I may be responsible and able to manage my life. But there is an element of dependence that is virtually unavoidable if a child, now a grown adult, still lives at home. You can't get around it. At least I haven't figured out how.

And then, of course, there are the obvious dependencies. Benefits of the food they feed me (I've never cooked for myself, even when I lived away from home. I was very good at 5 minute meals, microwaving, and eating meals of questionable contents and portion sizes. This does not bode well with parents.). And they bought me a microwave and a blender because they noticed I didn't have one (which they probably wouldn't have noticed if they did not see my kitchen.) Mmmhmm. You see as well as I do, I'm quickly starting to rack up quite a bill. Taking into account all the in-kind donations, suddenly somebody is not looking very independent. That somebody would be me.

Yes, I can move out. Moving out only comes with a more expensive price tag. But, as a self-sufficient adult who can manage a budget just fine and has provided for herself for years, it's clearly not just the money that keeps me at home. Not to say money isn't a factor. Admittedly, I do value money and don't like to waste it. If living in my own place were a free thing, there is no question I would do that. In fact, saving money is, in whole, why I live at home. But, while it is the great advantage, it is not the only consideration. Perhaps the reasons for moving out and being independent should way heavier than I have accounted for thus far in my lists of pros and cons. The question is: how detrimental is it for ALWP's to live at home? Even in a best case scenario? Whenever possible, should ALWP's just suck it up and move out?