Stuff That Makes Us Hillarys

When we travel with Mandy - we just tell everyone she's special needs.... she rode in the stroller all the way down the hill at the Zoo - so when they sing, "All the Monkeys Aren't In The Zoo".... they mean it.  It was a perfect day to check out the Hogle Zoo - how lucky we are to have such a fun, clean place to spend time.

 

Growing up - my parents grew all of the vegetables you can imagine in our yard.  Trees, and gardens, and flowers oh my... it was all beautiful - always.  But like gravity, what grows up, must come down and be pressure cooked, strained, boiled, frozen, and stamped with the current year.  So that would explain the genetic make up of my brother and I.  Each year the stalks of corn are warmed in the sunshine at the bottom of these Mendon Mountains - growing tall in that rich black soil.

 

In my little town where I grew up we celebrate amazing things.  On this particular day - we celebrated our brave soldiers from our community and honored them with a memorial in our little cemetery.  I was there the day the artist and creator delivered these massive monuments and watched his tears as he talked of making them and putting the names on them.  It consists of 3 huge carved rock memorials of those that have served in the various wars over the years, some living, most have passed, too many left too soon.  The town came together for a program of music, introductions to many honored guests - and the arrival of a black hawk helicopter.  The 21 gun salute, the men in uniform and the beautiful day made for a memorable experience, one I was honored to be at, and also see my father's name (misspelled)(dang) in stone.  Here are some of the pictures of that day - some of many many taken, most make me cry.

 

These are a picture of my Father's hands today - always a mighty Marine.  The reason he is still alive is because his heart is Marine strong!  My hands and his - together he gives me reason and strength.

Walking to the cemetery with my 83 year old mom - she followed my father where ever he needed to be in the military - she was stationed where ever he was.  She was always by his side.  Couldn't be prouder to have my family honored, and be a part of a town that takes care of those that serve.  Now - when my son in law walks into a room in uniform - it still takes my breath away.  Never could I repay that kind of bravery - never could I really find the words to thank them enough.  But I can salute the flag, I can post one at my home, I can stand every time a flag goes by -and reverently remember those that gave some, and those that gave it all.

 

It was quite the experience today to sit through one of the dedicatory sessions for the Brigham City Temple.  President Packer was by far my favorite - he was so sincere and emotional.  I often wonder if his faith and pleadings with the Lord allowed him to stay for this special day.  A Brigham City boy, one of 11 children, he can now attend a Temple of the Lord in his own hometown.  I loved the prayer, how it encumbered every needful thing.  The choir was amazing.  This is now the 4th temple dedication I've been able to attend - each unique to it's area and each a precious memory.  I loved the story of the jewel - about a man that had a precious pearl, and he wanted to share it with the world.  He made a beautiful box to put it on display in, and all the people commented on the box, not the pearl.  What goes on inside these temples are the precious gems of life, and of eternal life.  Today - I was approached by a friend, not of my faith, and I was able to say a few things to him.  it wasn't a confrontational conversation, but yet a gift of time to be able to discuss my beliefs.  I sat there with my husband - but I knew that my children all had the opportunity to attend the temple when they married their loves.  The rest is up to them on keeping those covenants - and the blessings that can be poured out upon them will be their choice.  I trust they'll choose wisely - as it has been the anchor of my life, and the purpose of my Patriarchal Blessing - to do the work for those that cannot.  Since my first time there 30 years ago - over 2,000 ordinances have been prepared, and provided for those on the other side - with the help of my children.  My connection to my ancestors is real - and sometimes creeeeeepy - but never the less - priceless.  I was married in the Salt Lake Temple - and I did my endowments on that same day.  Every year on my birthday I go to the temple.  During the week - I attend a session, or my week is not complete.  Can the world or the next world do without these holy Temples?  No... amen and amen....

This has to be my favorite picture of these two.  I love my grandkids so much - I miss them more than my heart can stand, but I know they are watched over and loved by their amazing parents.  I have a million things to do today - and yet here I sit blogging.  Sometimes it helps to just write those thoughts out.  It's difficult to find where you fit into life after your children leave and start their own lives.  I think I started to disappear within myself, feeling that I didn't have much to offer.  Every second is full of things that have to be done, but nothing that brings much peace.  Mission excluded - because there are always moments (or hours or days) of caring.  I recently read a book called, "29 Gifts"  about a lady with MS.  Her life was basically headed in a pretty sad state of being until she encountered a visit with someone that gave her insight about giving.  She was to give for 29 days - gifts, anything, some monetary (small), some gifts of time, or of self.  As she gave, her life became free, her mind opened, and her body responded by self healing what it could.  She did not overcome MS, but learned the great lessons of lessening the burdens that it carried.  I've heard of doing this before, but this book was a little more real to me as she explained some of her gifts, and how they effected her, and the receiver.  Learning how to receive was also part of the giving days.  I'm not one to announce, "Hey I'm going to be a do-gooder today and look out - because I'm just so amazing and lookie at me I'm doing this!..." - kind of person.  The gift doesn't count if the gift is announced.  There needs to be no return gift - you cannot say, if I do this, then I'll get that... it needs to just be given.  When I look at this picture of Princess Em and Prince Dbug, I see great things in their future.  Little does their mother know, that it was a gift to me on a very difficult day.  (she can count that as her gift for the day!)  I need to start giving more than I'm taking right now.  So I've started doing the things I've just read about.  If you miss a day - you must start over on the 1st day again.  I'm pretty sure that a 'higher being' or in my case, the feeling of all that is good from above.... will be more evident in my life.  But just for now - I need to find a little joy.   A quiet place where I can belong.  I need to be more observant of those around me instead of focusing on that person in the mirror with a heavy heart.  The last couple of days have included some eye opening moments, and a rare look into times that perhaps could have slipped away if I had not read this book.  It's not a religious attachment, but yet another way to try to change something somehow in my life.  I may comment on a few things, but personally I'm going to keep it private.  It's the smile inside that will count to me.  I think I'll stick with it... nothing to lose, lots to gain. 

As I was growing up (many of you already question that comment) my mother bottled everything moving.  She also painted everything that stood still - but that's another story.  She was part of the starvation era, kinda like the Obabma era we're having now (yet another story)... when sugar was rationed, and meat was scarce, and dinnertime was passed by for many (sounds like "if we get 4 more years).  I also know that there was a garden every single year of my life, and produce grown there like none other because my dad was a master gardener.  Nothing went to waste.  Most of it was given away.  Many blessings came and went in that garden of dad's.  So every year I pull out the larger than life preservation tools of the trade... dehydrator, food processor, steamer, canner, pressure cooker.  I also pull out all of the chick flicks I have on DVD and just line them up to play them.  I spread a big sheet on the kitchen floor because I have come to learn that you can actually rip a tennis shoe off after doing sticky peaches.  The bottles come out and are run through the scalding hot water and the lids and rings are counted up.  I can grow several things in my garden at my home - but our soil is 'sandy' of course, so most of my feastings come from the garden in Mendon.  The corn grows outrageously tall, the pumpkins are huge, and the tomatoes are as big as your hand.  There are raspberries, and cucumbers, sunflowers, squash, asparagus, apple trees and grapes. The cantaloupe would be set up on Pepsi cans to ripen, right before the stem fell off... and of course - Walla Walla onions make their home there too.  It's a bit haphazard during canning season - the kitchen fills up with bottled this and that - the freezer loses it's summer ice cream spots to frozen corn and squash.  But there is a peace about it all.  I've promised God every year that whatever he'll let grow - I will bottle - and someday I will use it to feed the masses.  He, as always, never fails me.  So far the corn is in the freezer, happy and yellow and ready to be salted a buttered.  Yesterday, 1 of 4 bushel of apples churned themselves into cinnamon applesauce and pie slices.  Frozen raspeberries from those amazing Bear Lake Bushes growing along the fenceline are freezedried for winter jams.  Beans are snipped and stacked in the basement, peppers are being dried, and soon it will be soup and chili making time.  How good it is to have a harvest - and to have been taught by my mother how to do it, and a dad who created it.  People think I'm crazy when I talk about gardening - and about my connection to my dad and the earth and the harvest - it's a lost art now to many - but maybe one day I'll pass it on.  Until then - I wanted to share my favorite idea for one of my least favorite items in the garden.  It didn't break my heart one bit to see this tragedy happen... in fact... I wish it would happen more!  Happy Canning!



I have been holding off on my blogging.  I have been hoping to post some light hearted posts but my thoughts are still a bit in the blues.  This amazing person left this earth, he was my Bishop, my neighbor, my friend and the keeper of my soul.  Mont Garrett passed away leaving his wife Jan, and his children - whom I love beyond words.  The Garretts lived next door to us in Bennion when Del and I had just married each other.  Mont was the best Bishop ever and his main purpose in life was to take care of everyone - and I mean everyone.  He walked over to Del one day - before Del joined the church.  Del was washing his truck, in his shorts, drinking a beer and eating a sandwich - on a Sunday.  A full suited up Mont said, "Just what do you think you are doing?"  Del said - what does it look like?!  Needless to say - Del did join his flock of people that Mont cherished.  I remember when the kids were tiny - and Del was getting his Masters.... Mont made sure that I had milk on my doorstep.  Once when Del was traveling - I came down with some serious food poisoning in the middle of the night - Mont and Jan came over and kept me from dying... they were always there.  They had an open house for Del and I on our wedding day - it meant so much to us - we didn't want to have a big deal made about getting married, but they had other plans.  I remember the first time I met Mont - I was laying in a hospital bed - just out of surgery - from being run over by a motor boat and meeting the propeller head on.  He he had never met me as I had just started dating Del.  I remember having his hands on my head - and Paul Pratt was there also - another dear neighbor on Glenview Circle.  I specifically remember Bishop Mont saying, "I release your guardian angel" and at that moment - the pain for the entire accident hit me - and the monitors and the bells and whistles went off and the doctors and nurses came running.  Mont knew that someone had to be taking on that pain - and that now I would have to endure it.  As soon as that angel left - my body felt the full weight of it all.  I was pretty beat up physically - broken jaw, stitches all over my upper body - and the owner of one powerful guardian angel.  So you see, to lose Mont - and not be able to save him back was difficult for me.  He passed away of cancer - but not without a huge fight to live - and prepare life for when he wouldn't be there.  His children are amazing adults, living life to the max, close to the church, hearts as good as their parents.  Mont went on to be in the Stake Presidency, He served a Mission to Mexico under the Presidency of Robert E. Wells, later in life, Mont would serve as a Mission President in Mexico, and then came home to be the Chaplain for the Salt Lake Police Department.  A life of service, and of love.  I wanted to post about Mont Garrett - because the world lost a good one, and so did my heart.  I think that we need to make a point to share with the world - the stories of the good hearts.  Thank you Mont - for being one of mine.  I promise to never tell that you were part of the fire starting skills in the back yard when the firetrucks arrived and you jumped the fence into your own yard and pretended to know absolutely nothing about the blaze burning the weeds down!  I'm pretty sure you are forgiven.  xoxoxox to the Garretts - you have all my love forever.

There was a dinner to go to!

 

Del and I were in charge of making sure that all of these wonderful people were well fed after the big wedding.  Now - this wouldn't be a big problem for most people - but we have never ever ever been to this part of California - and we were at a loss.  Cute Dianne had a friend that sent out the word to her friends - to find just the right place and report back.  This was WONDERFUL and we looked at all of the virtual tours from each place and decided on Massimo's in Freemont.  We were a little nervous heading into this, but all fears were put aside as we walked into this quaint, beautiful, amazing place.  It was so nice and cool, and the room was set up so beautiful and the waiters were all standing there - and ohhhhh it was soooo good....