Juggling Act

I read this in a book and loved it so much I wanted to share it...

"Imagine life is a game in which you are juggling five balls. The balls are called work, family, health, friends, and integrity. And you're keeping all of them in the air. But one day you finally come to understand that work is a rubber ball. If you drop it, it will bounce back. The other four balls—family, health friends, integrity— are made of glass. If you drop one of these, it will be irrevocably scuffed, nicked, perhaps even shattered. And once you truly understand the lesson of the five balls, you will have the beginnings of balance in your life.”

Sometimes it is so hard to juggle everything that life throws at you. I want to express to my Chet how proud I am of how he does it. He has a lot of responsibilities at work, so many people depend on him which flows down to so many families depend on him. I have the opportunity to work with him two days out of the week. I get to watch his juggling act and I am in awe. When he walks through our door at night, he is home. I am sure there are moments when all of the weight of work tries to follow him home, possibly even bouncing down the road after him not wanting him to leave. But for the most part that ball stays outside our door. I just want him to know how much I appreciate that. I also want him to know that it doesn't go unrecognized. And even though others may look at it as a flaw or a weakness, I believe it is incredibly strong and tells so much about the kind of person he is. Thank you Chet. I love you so much.

Take me out to the ballgame...

I am a sucker for a guy in a uniform. I always have been. These days the boys are getting a bit smaller and a lot younger, but it still holds true. There is something about watching them together as a team, cheering each other on and working together to become better that impresses me. And did I mention those uniforms.

The past few years I watched Weston play baseball. I would look forward to his games and couldn't wait for the time of year to go to St. George or Vegas to watch him in a tournament. A couple of times I went by myself with my parents, and other times I took my family. Two weeks after my brain surgery, Weston had a tournament in St. George. This would be his last because he was a senior. I couldn't stand it. I made Chet take me down even though I probably shouldn't have. What was I to do, I loved it and couldn't think of missing it. When he left last year on a mission, I felt a loss. I would miss having him around, but I would miss watching him play just as much. After the last game of his senior year, I watched as a team of teenage boys said goodbye to their team and the game with tears in their eyes. I felt that I understood their pain.

It seems that this love has followed me throughout my life. It even showed up on our honeymoon in New York where Randy got us tickets to two Yankee games at the original Yankee Stadium where none other than Babe Ruth played. And yet again, a year and a half ago for our anniversary, Chet and I flew out to Boston; where else would we end up but at Fenway Park watching the RedSox take on our beloved Yankees. Knowing how rabid the Yankee fans were at our trip to Yankee Stadium, I was a bit nervous to be making an appearance at their rival's field accompanied by my husband sporting his blue Yankee ball cap. Trying to remain composed during the Yankee's victory, it was funny to watch as little by little camoflauged Yankee fans made their way out of the woodwork, with a little cheer here and there. Come to find out, the two men and one lady sitting next to us all decked out in Boston gear, were actually Yankee fans. They were friends with Boston's pitcher and out of respect for him had worn his colors. One of the men started to squirm as we talked to him about it, stating that he thought his skin was burning with a Red Sox shirt on.
A couple of years ago Riley had played baseball. He pitched and did well, but all it took was him hitting a kid with the ball and making him cry that appeared might end his baseball career. We have decided not to pick what our boys will be involved in, we figure it is easier for them to choose for themselves. It made me a little sad when Riley chose not to play last year. But I didn't push it. I was so happy this year when Riley and Connor informed us that they both would like to play baseball. In fact, at Riley's last game he pitched. He walked his first batter, and then went on to strike out the next three in a row. So it seems I will be filling my evenings with the crack of the bat and root, root, rooting for the home-team. Top it off with peanuts and crackerjacks, and I am in heaven!!

The Scorpion Queen

As many of you may know, I have a fear. The symptoms associated with this fear include nausea, cold sweats, goose bumps the size of Kilimanjaro, rapid heart beat and dancing around on my tiptoes squealing many different languages; the origins of such languages are yet to be determined. Yes, I am talking about creepy crawly things yet again.

Believe me when I say, I do not enjoy talking about them. I would prefer they just leave me to my business and in return, I leave them to theirs. But for some annoying reason, unknown to me, it appears they enjoy sneaking up on me during the most unexpected times; therefore bringing on the above-mentioned symptoms of which I know no cure.

Now, I am a fairly decent person. I try to keep to myself in most cases. And even though I may not approve of things others choose to do, or they just simply creep me out, I will still remain open-minded and accepting. However, once the lines have been crossed and my space has been invaded, there are no guarantees.

This morning was a typical school day morning. We awoke, got Riley and Connor ready for school and out the door. I paraded around the house, starting on my list of to-do’s for the day when it happened. I was putting sheets into a large plastic zip-up bag and out of nowhere I was attacked by an enormous eight-legged alien.

It had many eyes, pinching claws and a poisonous hook on the end of his tail. It crawled out of the sheets next to my hand and down into the bag. With the stealth of a ninja, I lay the flap down on the bag and captured him inside with one quick zip. I immediately got Chet on the phone for guidance. “Capture him in a jar! You will be your son’s hero!” He stated, with no regards to his defenseless wife it seemed. Not knowing what else to do, I agreed to take a crack at it. Placing Chet on speaker phone and giving him a play by play of the battle, I grabbed my yellow rubber gloves and advanced on the unearthly creature.

Grabbing the first article out of the bag I quickly lay it on the ground, carefully unfolding it so as not to anger the beast. After thouroughly inspecting it I determined the first blanket was clear. I took a deep breathe and moved on to the second, a pale yellow fitted sheet, pretty and inviting on most days. I tossed it to the floor and knew deep down that at any moment I would be facing open combat. Before unfolding the sheet I peered into the bag to see if I could see it. It was there, perched on the next sheet waiting for me. I squealed and dove, barely escaping the piercing swipes as his tail whipped around searching for any part of my body to make contact with. Grabbing for my weapon, a .66 caliber mason jar, I swiftly swiveled around in a face-off with my enemy. We locked eyes, daring the other to break the hold. Slowly moving the jar closer and closer, careful not to make any sudden movements, I placed the jar over him and used the other hand to shake him free from his post. I placed the lid on the jar and set it on the counter.

I was victorious! And yes, I know that some of you may wonder why I would risk my life like that in attempting something so dangerous. All I can say is, a person does crazy things for those she loves.

Chet may question the events that I describe in this event—he heard them but was not physically there. But I declare to anyone that doubts—the evidence is in the jar and ultimately it is my story, I’m sticking to it. If you want to write your version, be my guest.

By Example...

I was sitting upstairs last night by myself, doing a little writing when Riley came upstairs and asked what I was doing. I told him and he took off for the kitchen without any hesitation and said, "I want to write too." He grabbed a notebook from the basket and came and snuggled right up next to me on the couch. Shortly after, Connor came wandering up. "What are you guys doing?" He asked. We told him and he said, "I want to write." We found him a notebook and he joined us in the living room in the lamp light, three self-proclaimed writers putting down on paper anything we felt at that time.

I am so happy that they have a desire to do this. It gives me more motivation to continue writing if it gives them a little inspiration to do the same. Their stories are so matter-of-fact, and i find something so refreshing about viewing life through their eyes.

I told them I would post them, so the following two stories are from them. Enjoy.

St. George

By Connor Ruger

I love my family caus they care for me. And my dad wrestles with my brothers and me that is a lot of fun. and my big brother plays checkers with me. That is grate fun to me. And my littel broter is always funny and when he fitse (fights) with me it is a lot of fun and my mom loves me. i really love my family.

The Narrows was a lot of fun caus me and my brothers hav this kind of power to climb or something. I saw my uncle and my dad got stuk in a skinny thing and when my dad let go of the wall he wood hang on the wall. And my uncle laughed like crasy!!!!

The Narrows

By Riley Ruger


We were in Saint George and we went to the narrows. My Dad and my uncle got stuck in between two rocks. It was really funny. And when they got out my dad called me spider-man because I could not stop climbing rocks. Then we had to leave, but I did not want to. On the way back my dad got me some new roller blades and I was so happy. then in the morning we went fishing. I did not catch any fish. It stunk, but oh well.

The End

"Big Man's Bum Crack"

(Not intended to offend or not intended for those who may offend easily)

Warmth, golf, hiking, fishing, boating, escaping, nature, family, talking, The Bear Paw—these are some of the reasons we were headed to a little place about 5 hours South of us. It wasn’t by choice, but by a declining real estate market leaving us with a home we can’t sell there that St. George has become our second home.

As we dropped down into the valley at 2 a.m. Friday morning, I watched the temperature gauge on the rearview mirror climb and a smile spread through my pasty winter-white body that had longed for the sun’s rays to beat down on it the last four snow filled months. We caravanned closely behind Jill and Spence, two people whom I adore spending time with. Our mission this weekend was to clean out the furnished model home we had purchased and leased back to the builder two years prior, all the while fitting in as much fun as possible in three short days.

I laid awake in bed the next morning, the sun calling to me. I tiptoed out of our bedroom hoping to let Chet sleep a while longer. As I rounded the corner heading down the hallway I was happy to hear the whispering chitter chatter of Riley and Connor out on the back deck. I walked out and breathed in deeply the clean morning air. I sat down between my two oldest boys and we took in the view. We had a great one, perched up above the Virgin River at the mouth of Zion’s National Park.

After a few minutes of discussing going for a little hike, majority ruled and we laced up our shoes and took off. I immediately fell in love with this moment; no TV, no video games, no phone, no ear buds in their ears drowning me out and drifting them away. We walked and talked and got to know each other just a bit better. We decided that would be how we would start every morning down there, walking and talking. I find myself anxious for the next one.

We spent most of Friday hiking around, enjoying the sunshine and ending up at a place the kids affectionately call “big man’s bum crack.” It is an extremely narrow crevice up through sheer rock walls. If you can fit through it, not only do you have a wonderful sense of accomplishment, but it is great for your self esteem.

One of my favorite things in the world is laughing; not just any laugh, but the kind that comes from deep within, thrusting its way out in an embarrassingly loud and infectious howl. Watching Chet and Spence attempt this climb had this very affect.

I am not sure what was going through Spence’s mind, driving his body through the slit we had just witnessed three little boys and Lou Lou slip through with ease, but it appeared he would not be giving up. Maybe it had something to do with the encouraging words he was receiving high above from strangers who had shimmied their little frames up through and now took the time to stop and observe; or maybe it had become a personal goal of his to overcome his claustrophobia. Whatever the case, his determination was hilarious to watch. He made it through one tight spot to a little opening but due to the fact that he could not breathe in because it made his chest too large between the two crushing rocks, the remaining 60 ft was impossible.

Chet had the same intentions until he got stuck in midair while taking in a breath. The rocks took a firm grip around his chest as if he were a small baby holding him up to take a better look, his arms and legs flailing around. I had images of us having to call the fire department to get him out. We left feeling a little discouraged at not fitting through the rocks, but it was nothing a little ice cream couldn’t mend.

The rest of the weekend was filled with hiking, playing games, fishing and even more laughing. We drove back on Sunday to a snow storm welcoming us home.

Warmth, golf, hiking, fishing, boating, escaping, nature, family, talking, the Bear Paw—these are some of the reasons we will be going back soon and often with family and friends, making memories and getting to know each other a bit better—and maybe even one day, fitting through “big man’s bum crack."

(Sorry they are sideways.)