Southern Living

April’s Fools

I would like to tell my mother in law that it was all just one big April’s Fools joke that we are taking her four granddaughter 2,000 miles away to live, but she would know that I was lying because she was there while we loaded every last possession of theirs onto our truck.

I would like to think that it was LG’s April’s Fools joke on me when after we loaded his car onto the truck trailer and saw the flat tire he had just let the air out instead of admitting that he never went to get his tires rotated after I had asked him too.

I would like to think that it was a big April’s Fools joke on myself when I realized that we could have e-mailed ourselves all of our maps to hotels and such instead of printing them out and losing the papers requiring a last minute trip to the library.

I would like to think that it was God’s April’s Fools joke on us when we had to load and reload our car onto the trailer four times because we couldn’t drive the car onto the trailer straight. There was also no way that LG and I in our limited truck driving experience could figure how to accurately back the thing up.

I would like to think that it was the Kitty Bear’s April’s Fools joke on us when she clawed at my skin and bit into my flesh repeatedly while trying to administer her tranquilizer, but it wasn’t a joke. Not at all.

I would like to think that it was Abigail’s April’s Fools joke on me that when I finally got out of town at 2 p.m. instead of the goal time of 8 a.m. and was 45 minutes onto the interstate that the dog wasn’t in the car. She had let him out of the car at the quick stop at the grocery store unbeknown to me.  And it was Faye’s April’s Fools joke to ask me about how Olive was doing, just to rub it in that I would have gotten all the way to our first hotel or gas stop before I realized the major mishap.

I would like to think it was the vet’s April’s Fool’s joke when this crazy lady was having a nervous breakdown in the office over her Pomeranian named Itsy Bitsy. I guess this joke was a good one because it made my previous crying in the car look very very mild. And it also made me want to start packing some Valium in my purse for such occasions. The lady need someone to slap her silly. Her dog was just fine. My dog on the other hand had probably been hit by a car finding her way back to our house across four lanes of traffic.

I would like to think it was our neighbor’s April’s Fools joke when the called to tell me they had thought we left our dog behind on purpose because they had found her howling on our front porch, but it was such a relief to know they had found her.

I would like to think it was my hood Knoxville neighborhood’s April’s Fools joke that random people were pillaging everything they could take from our yard within an hour after we left town. Probably while I was just down the street at the vet because it was now 4 p.m. and I was really finally on my way.

I would like to think that it was the State of Tennessee’s one last April’s Fools joke on us when I got to about the same exact spot I had gotten to on the first trip only to be stuck in standstill traffic for three hours. LG was stuck at the front of the line and in all the drama I had gone back to town to take care of, he only ended up arriving at the hotel an hour ahead of us because he had sat in stand still traffic for 5 hours.

I would like to think that it was my own April’s Fools joke on myself that after our whole first day of traveling, we only made it four hours into our 36 hour trip.

But even though it was April’s Fools day, all of this was true, and although hilarious in hindsight, not so laugh worthy at the time.

The silver lining was on my trip to the vet with the dog, I got a better tranquilizer for the cat. It was a liquid form that actually worked until about 1/2 hour before arrival at our hotel in Kentucky when she started going crazy once again in her cat carrier.

By far my most entertaining April’s Fools Day e v e r. And I can only say that because our dog was just fine. Just two little spots on the back of her legs that warrant some neosporin and an antibiotic.

And the dog may as well be on an antibiotic because the baby is too, for a pretty massive UTI, which kept her real nice and happy sitting in her carseat sick all day.

The miracle of it all. I have not yet been locked away. I was actually laughing at how absurd our family can be throughout the day.

And I believe God was laughing too as he thought of all the hard times I have had for the last 8 years in Tennessee and this was such a fitting closure.

Smooth sailing from here on out, I am sure of it.

Why?

Because April’s Fools was yesterday and we barely managed to cross the state-line.

So long Tennessee

I’m not a goodbye kind of person.

I am more of a see you later gal.

Or ’til we meet again.

I take comfort knowing that some of the finer things of Knoxville will still be here whenever we come back. I captured some of my favorites during our last days here.
 

Ain’t God good?

Art deco homes.

Beverly Hillbillies playing at the car wash.

Hot doughnuts free for good grades.

Historical sites. It’s especially cool when your kid goes there for Middle School.
I gotta admit. I am not gonna miss this one. Orange has never looked too good on me. Does it really look good on anyone?

Here are some of my Tennessee habits that are going to be hard to break.
1. Measuring distance in minutes.
2. Checking the weather constantly because rain is always pending and if there is any chance of ice, everyone stays home.
3. Switching from “heat” to “A/C” in the same day.
4. Using the word “fix” as a verb. Example: “I’m fixing to go to the store.”
5. Going to Wal-mart as a favorite past time known as”goin’ Wal-martin” or off to “Wally World”.
6. Calling a carbonated soft drink (not a soda, cola or pop) but a Coke, regardless of brand or flavor. Example: “What kinda coke you want?”
7. Saying all y’all.

When we stop in St. Louis for dinner tonight I am going to try my hardest not to cry when nobody at the restaurant calls me honey.

Love all y’all. Come and see us soon. You hear?

My Baptist Influence

While living in this wonderful home of Knoxville Tennessee I have been greatly influenced by my Baptist friends. I use Baptist for all the Protestant churches  really because they are the majority and to tell you the truth, I don’t see much of a difference between them all.


The other day when I was getting greatly discouraged in our search for a new rental that would actually accept our pets, out in Utah, (Trust me when I say I’ve learned that most Mormons must be animal haters) from facebook, I called upon the help of my prayer warriors . It’s a Baptist thing. Within 24 hours we had secured the perfect new home. And when I say perfect I mean the house we found included all of our needs and many of our wants. 


I would say my Prayer warriors worked some magic.Even if they weren’t all Baptist. My friends are so funny. My Jewish friend sent me a message asking me if I didn’t think her prayers would work. I told her to please pray and apologized for inadvertently leaving her out in the first request. So in all fairness I really can’t be sure which denomination our miracle can be attributed to, but I do know that we all have a mighty God. 


My awesome brother and sister-in-law helped above and beyond the call of duty and from Utah looked at each possible home and gave us the o.k. or nay over the phone. One house was even accompanied by a live video stream. So, when I explained to my brother how excited we were for our new lease and how awesome his wife had been to help us, I got a little carried away. “David”, I said, “I am so excited, I don’t know what I did to deserve being blessed so much, but God is so good.” David: “Did you just say ‘God is good’?” Me: “Yeah, isn’t he?” David: “If you’re Baptist.” “Alice, is there something you need to tell me about your religious affiliation changing while you’ve been down there in the deep South?”


Still very much a believing Mormon here, but I like to ponder on how the Baptists (and by Baptist I mean Protestants) have deepened my conviction. Bless their hearts. I can’t help to have been influenced. They are some of the greatest people I have known. They have got me saying things like “give him grace” or “our God is a mighty God”. One that I don’t really say but you often hear down here is, “It’s a God thing.”


I asked LG what Baptists say a lot and he informed me that they like to talk of Jesus. They don’t usually add on the Christ. I don’t really know why that is. LG says that Baptist often say things like, “Trust in Jesus, Jesus loves me, I love Jesus, What would Jesus do?, Jesus is my guide, and my personal favorite just plain old Jesus.”

I found it funny that I found this church sign a day after I started this post.

Although when Mormons refer to Jesus, we usually also include the title Christ with Jesus, I wouldn’t say that we love Jesus any more. Baptists truly love their Lord. They often exclaim “lordy, lordy lordy.” I don’t think that they realize that this very saying takes the Lord’s name in vain. I’ve told several of them this very fact. They were gracious about it. Of course. Protestants are some of the most gracious people I know.

Baptists traditionally eat out on Sunday after church. I remember explaining to one friend that Mormons are very strict about the Sabbath observance and try not to do anything that would require anyone else to work She laughed and said, “Well if you want to debate the principle with my preacher, you would have to come and find him after church at the restaurant with the rest of us.”

LG and I were delightfully surprised at how much religion is a part of life here in the South. We have been strengthened and taught by our Protestant friends. I hope they know how much we love them, even if they call us UnChristian or worry that they were never able to “save” us. There is one thing that I know we have in common and that is a great love for our Jesus.

Two-Fers
Did you know that the toothbrush was invented in Tennessee?
Yes it was. I know it seems odd after all those Tennessee teeth jokes. 
“How do I know this”, you ask?
If it was invented anywhere else it would have been named the teeth-brush.
For the past several years I have been having a reoccurring dream that all my teeth are falling out. Or sometimes I have a bunch of junk stuck in my teeth and I am trying to in·con·spic·u·ous-ly (yes, I had to look that one up in the dictionary) rid my mouth of the sticky gum-like substance without anyone noticing. Of course in my dreams everyone is always looking at me and I can’t do anything inconspicuously. (Wow, I got the word all by myself the second time around.)
Well, my curiosity got the better of me. I finally googled the meaning of my dream. And, oh my goodness, it’s spot on. 
My dreams have been trying to tell me that:
1- I have anxiety about my appearance.
2- I fear rejection, especially regarding my sex appeal and femininity.
3- I am worried about making a fool of myself.
4- I have a sense of powerlessness.
5- I have malnutrition and a poor diet.
6- I have a family member or close friend who is very sick or near death.
7- I am putting my faith and trust in what man thinks instead of God.
8- I am lying according to the Chinese.
For me, all of the above are true, except for the lying. Unless we count lying to myself, which I try not to do, but I believe we are all guilty of it.
I wonder if when I quit residing in this great state of Tennessee if my nightmare will finally go away. And I think the answer may be yes. Why, you ask?
Well, it’s a simple answer really:
For the first time in 8 years I am going to have dental insurance.
I am so totally lucky that I have only lost one tooth while living here, and even for that one a permanent cap fixed me right up, but, oh how I felt old. I have worried ever since about having to get dentures. I think I have done well since only having one casualty while residing in the land of famous hillbilly teeth. I wonder if my new dentist will be able to do anything with this mouthful of plaque? I really don’t want to look like this photo for the rest of my life. 
Oh yeah, that’s not me. 
Tennessee may have some ugly teeth, but usually the women with the ugly teeth don’t also have a 5 o’clock shadow. And I am really not lyin’ when I say that it’s true that there are a lot of people here with some jacked up teeth. You’d think that I would at least be able to overcome #1 and #2 for the simple fact that I still have a full set.
I think you all should google your reoccurring dream and blog about it. I will do a post linking to you all with your story and we will see if Freud knew what he was talking about. Whose in?

Tennessee Bridge
Please excuse my boo-hooing. This is going to be a very sentimental post.

I’m already crying and I haven’t even started writing yet. I’m a mess.

When my father in law e-mailed this photo, he had appropriately named it “looking west”.
 Maybe I should also get him to send me the other side entitled “looking east”
 as I am sure there will always be a part of me that will do both.

In 2003, LG and I, with our three little daughters crossed over this bridge for the first time as a family. The girls were so young: 4,2, and newborn. We had come across the country for law-school and Grandma Gold’s empty house was a perfect place for us to crash while we house hunted (an hour and a half away) in Knoxville. It was two doors down from my in-laws, which is about a mile beyond this bridge. We didn’t know it at the time, but we started a tradition. It had been a long trip, where we learned all sorts of car sanity games. We challenged Abigail to a Tennessee Bridge off. She must suck in all the air support she could and holler “Tennessee Bridge” as we drove over. She should not stop hollering until we safely reached the side closer to grammy’s house.

Well, here we are, almost eight years later. LG’s employment is going to drag us back to where we came from. We can’t complain. It’s a great job. We love Utah and we know it’s what God wants us to do, but it is very emotional…especially for a big sap like me.
My mother in law just posted a picture of the bridge on facebook and said they are closing it down. They have built a bigger and better bridge off  to the other side. All I can do is cry. And reminisce. And scream, “Nothing can be bigger or better.”
So many trips and holler contests are flying through my brain. Abigail is 4, then 5 then 11, ever increasing in volume and intensity. Sophia was 2 and couldn’t quite pronounce the words, but still hollered right along with her sister and now she quite possible has some of the best breathe control. Bella was probably just crying that first trip across, but her volume was likely as loud as it is today, even though the words now come out loud and clear: TENNESSEEEEE BRRRIIIIIIIDDDDDDGGGGE. 
Sometimes the girls were in soccer uniforms or church dresses. Sometimes the car was loaded down with winter gear and Christmas presents. Or food that we didn’t want to go bad in our fridge at home. Sometimes we had a cat with us and a dog. But never both the cat or the dog. Thank goodness. Sometimes they were in bathing suits and we may have even had the occasional birthday suit in there. I can smell the homemade loaves of bread that Faye sent home with us and the Thanksgiving leftovers. I am blinded by the black of most of the nights when we were headed back home while I calculated which caffeinated soda I would purchase at the corner gas station just beyond the bridge. The kids would already be falling asleep and wouldn’t even notice the bridge.
LG and I got really good at driving across that bridge super slow while the kids’ faces turned bright red and finally gave in to the need for oxygen. A parent has to do what they have to do for the occasional win. We would have to remind ourselves not to slow down if it was at night and the girls weren’t paying attention. The girls have now turned their attention to teaching baby Caroline the tradition.
I am not sure how many times LG told me of his trips to the little market close to the bridge while we drove by. “I always got my gas there when I was a teenager.” “Dad and I used to stop there for worms when we would go fishing.” “We used to drive our bikes down here when we were kids”, to which I would reply, “Are you kidding me? This highway is frightening.” The response would always follow, “Yeah Alice, I’ve told you a million times, we would take the back-roads; they are so much safer.” I would laugh inside because I don’t think that there are really any safe back-roads in the whole state of Tennessee; I have personally puked while trying them out in the car. That’s when I started driving everywhere so I could avoid car sickness.
But back to the bridge. They are tearing it down. They are tearing down a piece of our family. And I can’t stop crying, but I guess it is kind of fitting since we have to move forward. We can’t stay here forever.But even if we aren’t going to be Tennessee residents and even if we aren’t going to get to visit grammy and papa as often, we now know that at least a piece of each of our hearts will forever be floating down the great Holston River. I think I can hear it as it faintly rolls along to the tune of Tenneeesssssseeeee Briiiddddgee.
wah wah wah.

Hiking with Maria
This is Maria.
Maria loves to hike.
She also loves our family,
even though she has threatened to never speak to us again
since we are moving to Utah, and leaving her beloved Tennessee.
Yesterday
we called Maria,
so she could take us to one of her favorite local trails.
She said it was kind of steep,
but I convinced her we could do it.
We headed to House Mountain.
Where the only trail condition is steep.
We all wore out our calves packing 30 pound Caroline.
Maria tried really hard to get a nice family photo for us.

I think she did a pretty good job. Given the incompetency of her models.

I am certain we would have quit before getting to the top without Maria’s help.
Or one of our kids would have fallen off a cliff.

Look she got a great shot. If only LG was looking at the camera this would have been the perfect photo to say goodbye to our life in Tennessee.

Even our dog  loves Maria.

Maria said it all would be worth it
when we got to the top.

I believe she was right.

I’m a Tennessee Mormon
So, we’re moving back to Utah.
I am experiencing a full spectrum of emotions.
I am sad yet happy.
I am depressed yet hopeful.
I am relieved yet stressed.
I am excited yet contemplative.
I have been planning and organizing yet reflecting and pondering.
No wonder why I just want to stay in bed all day.
My mind and body are exhausted, and I haven’t even started cleaning or packing.

We love our home in Knoxville, Tennessee.
We especially love being members of
The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints
in Tennessee.
Our fellow church members are close-knit.
It becomes cliche,
but we really are
family.
One great big family.
We have to stick together.
As we are attacked on all sides.
The other inhabitants of
The Bible belt
actually believe all kinds of falsehoods
about us.
So,
we are very much a refuge
for one another.
We know we are not polygamists.
We know we are not a cult.
But most of all
we know
We
are
Christian.
In fact,
if you ever visit
a meetinghouse
on the first Sunday of the month,
you will hear
some of the sweetest
testimonies
of
Jesus Christ.
And
you may be surprised
that these
awe inspiring
words and feelings
come from
the Mormons
in the Bible belt.
They will bear testimony
of their love of the Bible.
They will testify of
the Savior of the world,
Jesus Christ.
They will talk about
their love for fellow man
Christian and non-Christian alike.
They will also talk about their love
for one another.
And the support
they receive from one another
in their goals
of living
Christ centered lives.
So,
thinking about leaving
our home of
eight years
is very
heart wrenching.
It is here
where people
have planned
“it’s great to be 8”
firesides
just for our daughter
and her best friend.
As they were the only
kids in the congregation
looking forward to
that momentous
birthday
in the same year.
The year they are old
enough to accept baptism.
And take upon them the
name of Christ.
It is here
that we are
always kind of surprised
but absolutely joyful
when we run into
another member
of our church
while shopping.
It is here
where our kids
were sometimes
the ONLY
Mormons
in their whole school.
And sometimes
the only Mormon
that people had
ever met in their life.
It is here
in
Tennessee
that we
as a church family
and as a family family
stood strong
together
against
adversity
of all sorts.
And I now know that I
am going back to another place that I love.
But in that place it is pretty sheltered.
I worry about my kids
understanding the actual world.
I have to admit that when I think
about the fact that
I will only have two
people from church to check in on
instead of 6 on a monthly basis,
I am a little relieved.
I am downright ecstatic that I will
never have to wake up my teenage
aughters at 5 am
for their 6 am Bible study
before school.
In Utah’s highschools
they have this thing called release time
where the kids get to cross the street
during a period of the day and
study scripture
at the LDS church across the street.
I may never feel like the people at church
are really family,
as most of them actually
are surrounded by real biological family,
but I will also know
that I have a very vast support system,
even if they aren’t as close to me.
The news coverage
may all be
from a Mormon’s
perspective,
but I will also get news that
I want to hear about,
that I can’t get here.
I will get to walk into
Mormon bookstores
instead of Baptist ones.
And buying my kids
a modest baptism dress
or a CTR ring won’t be an ordeal.
In Utah there aren’t any
dogwoods,
or
wreckers,
or
magnolias,
or
Vol fans,
or
riding mowers,
or
humidity,
or
fireflies,
or
smoky hills,
or
snowdays,
or
awesome
Southern Storms.
I will
miss them all.
(well maybe not the humidity)
But I will appreciate the things
that Utah does have
that Tennessee doesn’t.
Like
snowplows,
and
sidewalks,
and
temples,
and
caselot sales,
and
rocky mountains,
and
smooth gardening soil,
and
great camping weather.
I am sappy lately.
I am gonna miss being different.
It’s gonna be hard to go back to
a place where I am just
like everybody else.
O.k not just like everybody else.
Cause let’s face it.
I’m an original.
I don’t totally fit in anywhere I go.
And I prefer it that way.
I am also gonna miss my
mother-in-law and my sister.
A lot.
My mother in law, Faye, is the world’s best babysitter.
and one of my best friends.
And Shannon, my sister, is my best cheerleader.
My entire life she has watched out for me.
Thank goodness for
webcams,
jetplanes,
cell phones,
with
unlimited long distance,
and
wait for it
…..
facebook.
God knew I couldn’t leave
without having those.

I heart Tennessee.

We have lived in Tennessee for 7 & 1/2 years.
I will admit, for this sheltered Western girl,
it took some serious getting used to.
I have blogged about some cultural differences in the past.
I have also blogged about some of the finest parts of the State.
I have laughed about the language barrier.
But, now as I face the possibility of leaving the state,
I can’t stop crying.
Knoxville Tennessee has become more of a home
than any other home I have had.
Our little stone cottage
as humble as it may be,
is the place where I’ve
grown into my own skin.
It’s the place where
LG finally finished college.
It’s the place where
our 4th child was born.
It’s the place where
so many memories were made.
Good and bad.
And isn’t it funny how the only
difference between a good and bad memory
is time?
What’s really crazy to me
is that even the things I hate about Tennessee
have become endearing overnight,
as I’ve faced the possibility of leaving.
And even the bad memories
have become some of my favorite
when I think of leaving the place
called home.
And every small thing
is remembered as a big miracle.
I think it kind of fitting that when I got here
I couldn’t stop crying for about a year.
Because if I ever have to leave,
I am sure that will be about the same amount of time
it will take me to overcome my
home sicknesses.
I am so grateful I have blogged
about so many of my favorites.
(not affiliated in any way –
really, they are both just
showcased in the same post.)
(I am glad that the calling
of activities director
has been retired
because I never wanted that one again.)
(I don’t think I will ever
get out of the habit of checking it
frequently.)
Our yard.
the good and bad.
And last but certainly not least
(I consider it an honor and privilege.)
We have come far
from the days
we were white trash.
And thanks
to Tennessee,
We now embrace ourselves.
Even the parts
that in the rest of the country,
we might be expected to hide.
If we end up having to move,
I hope the rest of the country
is ready for some Southern living.
Because we never plan to wash a car again.
And we have learned the art
of lawn ornaments.
Surely they can put up with our bad habits,
once they taste my
Southern cooking.
More tears.
I am never gonna make a biscuit again.

The Snow Blues
After a month of almost consecutive snow days and Winter Break,
this mom is officially in Cabin Fever mode.
I even pulled out my old gowns as a new point of interest.

I have been in a foul mood.
I am not sure quite why.
It’s a combination of things, I am sure.
The lack of sunshine.
My house being at 60 degrees to conserve cash.
The cooking three meals a day,
EVERY day.
O.k. I’ll be honest:
no breakfast
just lunch dinner and the 4th meal.
The daily routine of
Wizards of Waverly Place, Hannah Montana, and Cake Boss
should be envious.
(And just for the rest of you moms who are trying to survive
with a Netflix membership
because the remote
to the digital converter went missing ages ago
and you don’t have any real T.V.
the last of those three shows is the winner of
Best Entertaining TV)
And there’s nothing like a really long
run-on sentence to express the true sentiment
of my last month.
I’ve been dreaming of going to Carlos’ Bakery
for a warm lobster tail or crumb cake.
Of course, in my dreams,
I am decked out fashionably
with my hair done, make-up on, and nails brightly painted.
I guess if my mind really had some imagination
I should have been wearing a Miley wig
and some Wizard glasses.
Because that is what the kids would find entertaining.
But, in my dreams,
I am all alone.
Go figure.
And then I sit to blog.
Because maybe it will help me find myself.
Or at least pull me out of this mood.
And I stumble upon this old photo:

and I remember how awesome my kids are.
And how fast they grow.
And then the smell of a poopy diaper
brings me back to my senses.
Just as Caroline goes flying off the bottom of treadmill.
And for the millionth time
with my kids
we laugh.
And I think
it’s too bad
their teachers don’t get to
see them at their best.
And I tell myself
to embrace these snow days.
Because even though the days go by so very slow.
The years fly by.
And, next winter,
if I am lucky
The Tennessee weather God
may bring no snow at all.
But of course,
by then I may be living in South Dakota.
And LG will still be saying,
“Oh, but this is still nothing
compared to the Winter of ’88.”
And I will no longer wonder how my mom survived
with seven children
because I will be longing
for my childhood
in
Southern California.
Where snow days
don’t exist.