The Wills Family

Sisters

My sisters and I got to share some moments together recently.
Sisters are the best thing EVER.
Three of us peed our pants multiple times from laughing so hard.
(I’ll let you guess which ones did the peeing.
I have been told that not everyone wants to share their life story.)
The joys of the incompetent bladder: something only a sister can understand.
Luckily we were out on a jet ski & only had to jump in the water to clean up.

Here is an e-mail forward that I read yesterday. I found it strikingly true.

A young wife sat on a sofa on a hot humid day, drinking iced tea and visiting with her Mother. As they talked about life, about marriage, about the responsibilities of life and the obligations of adulthood, the mother clinked the ice cubes in her glass thoughtfully and turned a clear, sober glance upon her daughter

‘Don’t forget your Sisters,’ she advised, swirling the tea leaves to the bottom of her glass. ‘They’ll be more important as you get older. No matter how much you love your husband, no matter how much you love the children you may have, you are still going to need Sisters. Remember to go places with them now and then; do things with them.’

‘Remember that ‘Sisters’ means ALL the women… your girlfriends, your daughters, and all your other women relatives too. ‘You’ll need other women. Women always do.’

What a funny piece of advice!’ the young woman thought. Haven’t I just gotten married? Haven’t I just joined the couple-world? I’m now a married woman, for goodness sake! A grownup! Surely my husband and the family we may start will be all I need to make my life worthwhile!’

But she listened to her Mother. She kept contact with her Sisters and made more women friends each year. As the years tumbled by, one after another, she gradually came to understand that her Mom really knew what she was talking about. As time and nature work their changes and their mysteries upon a woman, Sisters are the mainstays of her life.

Time passes.

Life happens.

Distance separates.

Children grow up.

Jobs come and go.

Love waxes and wanes.

Men don’t do what they’re supposed to do.

Hearts break.

Parents die.

Colleagues forget favours.

Careers end.

BUT………

Sisters are there, no matter how much time and how many miles are between you. A girl friend is never farther away than needing her can reach. When you have to walk that lonesome valley and you have to walk it by yourself, the women in your life will be on the valley’s rim, cheering you on, praying for you, pulling for you, intervening on your behalf, and waiting with open arms at the valley’s end.

Sometimes, they will even break the rules and walk beside you…Or come in and carry you out.
Girlfriends, daughters, granddaughters, daughters-in-law, sisters, sisters-in-law, Mothers,
Grandmothers, aunties, nieces, cousins, and extended family, all bless our life!

The world wouldn’t be the same without women, and neither would I. When we began this adventure called womanhood, we had no idea of the incredible joys or sorrows that lay ahead. Nor did we know how much we would need each other.

Dear Sir South,

Dear Sir South,
Do you think you could do me, your favorite Western transplant, a favor?
Can you please invite some of my favorite features of Western living
to come and visit from time to time?
I would be much obliged, sir.
I just can’t be taking 2,000 mile trips whenever I need a fixin’.
I know I ought not complain, but I so miss things from my native land.
I love the you with most of my heart now.
And, I surprised even myself that I missed some things about you while I was away.
But, there are just so many joys of life that are absent here.
I don’t think it would be a terrible crime to let some of those things in.
For instance,

I know this Jack in the Box looks scary,
but what harm could he really do while he driving that convertible
and cooking me up some 2 tacos for 99 cents at the same time?

And, I know we have as many icees as we could ever want,
but don’t you think it is time they had a little competition?
I think that some slurpees from 7-11 would be the perfect threat/compliment
to our only two flavors: coke and cherry.
Besides I am a Mormon and I can’t even drink the coke flavor.
And that cherry stuff is getting a little old.
It’s as if you’ve never heard of the flavors pina colada or orange or grape or
Mountain Dew or Dr Pepper or berry or
…..well, I am sure that you are getting the picture.

This is called real Mexican food.
It is a slice of heaven.
You have not tasted the perfection of combined flavors
until you have tried this mix of pineapple and shrimp!
I know we have some Mexicans living here…
don’t you think we could sneak them some recipes
and give them a loan to help them open up shop?

Western Bacon Cheeseburgers….I guess they will have to stay in the West.
Boo hoo.
This is called a covered bus stop.

I know I NEVER ride the bus, so this seems like an odd request, but
it just makes me feel better to see people have a nice comfortable shelter while they wait.
I’m not even going to mention the sidewalk
because you already know how I feel about its absence here.

This is what we call red clay. It’s beautiful in its own way.
A cactus. This is the one thing that I really don’t have to have.

I just thought that I would add it in for a good measure.
I know that we have a Waffle House,

but do you think that they could somehow hire my dad
and pay him enough to actually make him move out here.
I just love his fried eggs and toast.
Thank you sir.
You know where to find me.
I will anxiously be awaiting your reply.
Alice Gold

Ten Virgins with Children

No, it wasn’t immaculate. It was a church play. It was fun.
Guess who was the one with the real Pashmina?
Yeah, that would be me.
A few years back, my sister, Shannon, brought it back for me from Italy.
I told her how beautiful it was and kindly thanked her.
I thought to myself, “When is simple old me ever going to wear something so elegant?”
“It’s a darn scarf. I am never going to wear a scarf!
Why couldn’t she bring me some wine?”
(not really, because you all know I can’t drink that)
So, I tucked the soft and pretty scarf away for a completely improbable day in the future when I would magically transform into a woman with some taste.
Shannon’s husband has schooled her in the ways of refinement.
I was not so lucky.
I had to teach my husband to match the color of his shoes to his belt.
And that there are some occasions besides church that it is appropriate to wear something other than jeans or basketball shorts, and a T-shirt.
I grew up in a beach town and LG grew up in a County school in Tennessee.
So, you can imagine that when it comes to the subject of fashion,
we are both somewhat challenged.
But, wow, last week,
I got to pretend that this mother of 3 was not only a virgin,
but that I was also the coolest woman in the play.
You see, I had a real Pashmina.
I felt like a million bucks as the other virgins salivated in envy.
On the way home, I promptly called my sister to give her the much delayed appropriate thanks. You know the kind where there is almost groveling involved.
I somehow had to make up for my lack of excitement from my first little thanks.
I told her, “There’s nothing like the jealousy of another woman to make you want to have a little more culture in your life.”
I have to tell you that, for me, the sense of belonging to the high life was fleeting.
As soon as I got home, the scarf went right back in the bottom of my drawer.
We wouldn’t want my kids to find it, would we?
It may somehow end up in their dress up box
with the fluffy elf costume and Styrofoam knight’s armor.
Now, all I can do is hope that our church Christmas party
will be the kind that we all dress up and go back to Jerusalem.
I would love to have a chance to NOT gloat.
Now that I know what a Pashmina is,
I may be able to sensor my pride and play it off,
instead of rubbing it in the face of commoners.

Tar jay

Where is your favorite place to shop?
The kids were so excited to receive these flashing reflectors from the Target workers at a local National Night Out dinner.
The kids thought that the Target workers were more exciting than the chief of police, a local politician, the mayor, and the head of the FBI.
Who am I to argue?
We know which employees offer a 75% off discount of the dollar spot from time to time.




The People We Went to See

We all survived. Barely.
Can you think of anything better for a person’s quest for perfection than spending 4 days with 40 tired and weary reunion going family members?
I can’t think of anything more joyful.
Or more trying.
But, you will be pleased to know that there were only a few little spats between the brothers and sisters.
I guess we are all growing up.
Which is quite obvious by the amount of bodies present.
And, it’s all because two people fell in love.





The Battle with the Brothers.

In 2001, my family was on The Family Feud.

We had a blast. Louie Anderson was so much fun.

We lost on the money round. We blame it on my brothers. They choked. Just watch and you will see. It is so entertaining.

Renee and I begged Erick and Adam to let one of us be included on the final round during the whole ten hour drive from Utah to California. They wouldn’t let us; neither of them could give up the glory. Renee and I really didn’t care. We just wanted the money and we knew statistically (from being avid watchers), the families that had a man and woman answer the final round, had a higher chance of winning.

Men and women think differently. Having two men proved to be our downfall. Both of my brothers happened to think a lot alike. You will have to watch this until the end to see what I am talking about.

So, the moral of the story. Men need us. We need them. Embrace it. Or lose $20,000!


Wills Family Feud (Sep 2001) from Adam Wills on Vimeo.

My fam

I am still trying to get to the rest of my West Virginia posts. Those pictures just take so long to load…I am just going to use the excuse that they are still loading, but you all know there is really no new post because I am babysitting two extra kids all summer and filling my nights assisting my hubby with his new practice.

Here is a side note for the time being, just so that you will all know that I am still alive.

One of the main reasons I wanted a blog was to have a place to write the stories of my crazy family. I have six crazy brothers and sisters. (o.k., everyone is crazy except maybe Shannon ) I love them all, and love that they all still love me, even when I am the craziest one of all.

Here is a picture of my family back in 2001. I was eight months pregnant but I have this wonderful talent of just looking extra fat when I am pregnant. And, don’t you love my horrible KD Lang cut? Wow, I must of had that horrible mental condition that causes hair style choice trauma. Or it could have been the fault of that student hair dresser that just couldn’t wait to whack my hair off without any concern for my style. I was just thinking the other day that I have no idea why I didn’t wear a wig. This is the latest Wills family photo and it’s been hanging on my wall for 7 years.

O.k. the reason for this post. The family all seems to be joining my blogging family as well. I would say that my influence is unending, but my whole family has known about my blog since I started it in 2005.

So, here are the links to the youngest Wills, Renee, and the oldest Wills, Erick.. Their posts may give you something to read while I patiently wait for school to start again so that I can get back to my blogging business.

And a short family memory that Erick’s latest post just brought back to me. Growing up, our driveway was completely smeared with engine oil. All of those old and leaky cars did quite the number on our concrete. We used to play basketball on that driveway. We played basketball a lot. It was pretty gross. And, also tricky playing when you had to keep the ball from ever touching the ground.

And, when the ball got away from us, whoever was the youngest and/or most adventurous was expected to chase the ball down the long hill until they caught up to the ball and retrieved it. I can remember finally catching up to the ball, almost all the way to the Cabacugans one time. They were the second closest Mormon family from our house…yeah, about 1/2 mile down the road and a 1/4 mile after the turn off to the Youngs.

We really did get our exercise growing up, whether we liked it or not. Man, I must be the sibling with the flattest neighborhood now. I am surely the most out of shape. Maybe I need a basketball hoop. I am probably the only grown Wills child without one. (What’s up with that, my hubby was probably one of the only one’s that actually played basketball in High School – something is wrong with this picture)

h2o woes

My sister Shannon, the family pro of soccer, recently gave me some great advice on surviving soccer season.

She used to drag me out to the BYU field to watch her then fiance, but now husband, Brett, play. (I won’t bore you with the details of Brett and I having the “is soccer or football the better sport” debate for eight hours straight one Thanksgiving)

Anyhow, Shannon’s simple advice truly made my life a lot easier during the past couple of months.

“Keep a case of bottled water in your van.”

Thank you Shannon. Because of not rummaging for water last minute, I was actually able to make it ON TIME to approximately 10 of the total 50 soccer practices this season? Wow.

Anyway, during this same conversation about bottled water, I asked Shannon if she knew anything about these new wave water bottles. (the ones that are supposed to keep you cancer free) I told Shannon that I had briefly read a blog post about somebody purchasing these really plush water bottles and replacing all the plain old plastic ones in the house. (I wish I could remember who posted about this, and I would link)

I had no idea that plastic water bottles were linked to causing cancer. Not that I care. I don’t trust scientists, and it truly seems that everything in this universe is out to kill you. My way of being happy in this life is choosing to ignore all the health reports.

Shannon and I talked about the days when we used to go out to the public ball fields to play Bobby Sox. Shannon recently asked my mom, “Mom, I don’t ever remember taking water bottles to the field back then, how did you get out of that responsibility?” Mom reminded Shannon, “Back then, everyone used the water fountains.”

Needless to say, I was thrilled when we traveled to Norris last week for one of Abigail’s games and found this quaint little community. I got to make a lesson out of this really cool old-school water fountain.

I sounded like a senior citizen, “Girls, when I was a kid, we didn’t have water bottles. Everyone would drink from public water fountains, just like this one.”

Seriously, are you with me on ignoring health reports? What really has the potential to be more harmful? The old school water fountains with all their public germs or water packaged in plastic?

Do you know what I say, “Who cares!” For all I know, by the time I am a true senior citizen they will be saying that it’s the water that causes cancer.