{SOOC Sunday} Temple Square

This weekend, the husband took me on a much needed getaway to Salt Lake City.  

We shopped til we dropped. 

(Ikea, Cabelas, Tai Pan, Golf Galaxy)

We ate at our favorite restaurant.

 (PF Changs)

We walked around Temple Square.

I hadn't been there during the holidays since I was a little girl.  

I'm pretty sure it was the highlight of my whole weekend. 

It was freezing cold, snowing, completely packed, and absolutely beautiful.

I think it needs to become a yearly tradition!

(Inside the Joseph Smith Building)

(The Tabernacle, all set up for the Christmas Devotional on Sunday)

(The view from the 17th floor of the Hilton Hotel)

All pictures are straight out of the camera! 

Happy Holidays!

(SOOC Sunday, sponsored by Murrieta 365)

{crafty and creative} who, me?

I am proud to announce that I am still alive.  Save your applause for later.

So where have I been? 

Working three days a week. 

Trying to catch up on life the other four days.

Zumba!

Relief Society meetings.

Relief Society visits.

Doing other Relief Society stuff.

Vegetating.

Not taking pictures.

Of anything.

Seriously. 

The memory card is empty

and has been for 16 days.

BUT...

A couple of things I have been working on...

Christmas gifts for the sisters in the ward. 

Somehow word got out to the president that I was creative and crafty

(so not true)

and she told me what she wanted and I went to work.

Here it is:

 Sorry.  

Not sharing until after they are given out to the sisters in a few weeks.

It was SO FUN to get back into digital scrapbooking 

and while I was in the shower this morning,

I came up with an idea for mom for Christmas. 

I took the shortest shower ever 

(for a day off anyway)

and got right to work.

Every year for the past, I don't know how many years, 

I have made my mom a birthday calendar and every year I spend hours

collecting pictures, 

photoshopping pictures,

and making sure I have all 106 family members birthdays correct.

(there is always a couple that are wrong every stinking year!).

Not to mention putting the calendar together, printing, getting it bound.

It's worth the time and effort,

but...

I don't want to. 

So this year, I'm making mom a book with everyone's birthday in it.

This way, we'll just be able to add to it instead of starting completely over.

Pages still have to be made, and I'm sure there will be seven trips to the copy store for 

prints and binding and 

general screw ups, 

but, it's something new, and therefore,

I'm excited!

Maybe I am crafty and creative.

Handcart Trek...

Six months ago, when our bishop brought up the idea of a youth handcart trek, I was hiding my head, hoping and praying he wouldn't ask me to be a part of it. He didn't. Even my kids didn't want any part of it. However, as plans were laid and they got ready to go, I was secretly wishing that they had asked us to be a part of it. And my kids finally agreed to go. I was a tad jealous.

I sent one of my spare camera's with the girl on her trek, hoping she'd come back with boatloads of photos. She had some good ones... unfortunately, she accidentally switched it to video mode so most of her pictures are 3-4 second videos. Oh well. She tried.

Here's what we did get out of her, though...

This was the child to be wary of this weekend. When the leaders announced that they expected the kids to maintain a reverant tone so as to experience the true spirit of a pioneer trek, the girl announced she wasn't going. Reverent and her are like oxymorons. After the trek, the bishop came up and told us how much he enjoyed her company, but had to constantly remind her to use her "indoor" voice and she kept telling him she didn't have an indoor voice. We concured. She doesn't have one. Seriously. I don't know where she gets it from.

The handcart trek was held in the foothills east of us, in an area called Moody Creek, on a dry farm owned by the family of a family in our ward. It was filled with rolling hills, sagebrush, weeds, and a bit of alfalfa. Perfect for all those kids with miserable allergies. The girl has decided she has some allergies, but luckily, her "ma" for the trek works at the local pharmacy and had an arsenal of drugs and kept her medicated for us so she wouldn't be so miserable.

The handcarts were borrowed from a local stake. I think we only had about six of them... five families, and one extra for the strays who wanted the whole pulling of the handcart experience.
There were about five kids in each family. Since a majority of the kids parents were in attendance, and also since a lot of them had siblings with them, they were all split up and placed into new families. Each family was given a different colored bandana so you wouldn't forget who your sister was... just in case you wanted to. The boy wore his like this most of the time... which is clearly evident based on the fact that his nose and that little strip of forehead is burnt to a crisp. He took sunscreen, but unlike the girl, his "ma" didn't make him wear it religiously.
The girl and her siblings...
One of her sisters with her "ma" ...
The boy chatting it up with a few of the neighbors...
The girl and her favorite sister...
He never realized once until we pointed it out (after he was home) that he was wearing his cowboy hat backwards. His cowboy grandpa would be so proud! Or not.
The boy and his family... he worked his guts out this weekend, trying to prove that he was better than anyone out there, and he did a mighty fine job of it. One of his "brothers" was pretty much useless, and one of his "sisters" got sick on the trail and could barely walk, let alone push or pull, so that left him and his two 14 year old siblings to pull the handcart (with their ma and pa, I guess). He and his 14 year old "sister" (who has a crush on him in real life so that may have aided her work ethic) worked their little guts out!
The girl spent most of her trek pushing the cart... laying her head down in the back of the handcart and resting while walking... taking pictures of her family from behind... and keeping them all in line with her singing and knowing her...dancing. She only bloodied one girls nose, poked a boy in the eye, and started one water fight. Surprise surprise!
The trek only lasted three days, which was probably a good thing. Some of them might have died on the trail had it been any longer. They ate lots of sandwiches and dutch oven pioneer food. Some (like the boy) slept under the stars, and others didn't sleep at all (like the girl) in their tents.

The second day on the trail, they had what they refer to as the "womens pull". All the men were called off to war... they had to climb the hill and sit by the side and watch all the women and girls rally together to get these six handcarts up the very steep hill... a hill they said was hard enough to walk up alone. The girls cried as they pushed and pulled, and the boys were weepy as they sat and watched them struggle. All along the trail they heard stories of the pioneers, visited makeshift gravesites, and sang pioneer songs. It was a very moving experience for all who went.

Saturday night, we families gathered at a local church and waited for the arrival of the trekkers. They stopped up the road, pulled out the handcarts and had them walk to us, which I'm sure they were just happy to be on a real road for a change!


The girl and her little family.
The boy and his family...
Each person "walked" for a pioneer. They were given a name and a story, but didn't find out until the end if they made it all the way. The boy lived to be 91 years old. The girl lived to be 94 years old. I always knew they were strong!
You don't want to see the ring they left around the tub!
Perhaps someday our ward will do this again and we can take the opportunity to participate as adults. The kids were hesitant at first to go, but in the end, the realized it was all worth it, it wasn't all work, and at times it was even a little fun - thanks in part to the girl and her feisty attitude. That's my girl....

Gordon B. Hinckley

Three days ago my mother called me on the phone and told me that she had heard in a round about way that our beloved prophet, seer, and revelator, Gordon B. Hinckley was very ill. I thought about it the remainder of the week, and kept hoping that perhaps it was just a rumor. He's only 97. He surely has a few good years left in him.

I sat in church today and read a quote in our bulletin by him from the last LDS General Conference, and I wondered if we would hear from him this year, and if so, what he would have to say. He was on my mind all day.

Perhaps it was his wit, his humor, his accomplishments, or perhaps it was merely the fact that I was finally mature enough to really appreciate his council, but this was one prophet who made more of an impact in my life than any other.

To hear of his passing saddened me deeply. To think of the reunion between he and his beloved wife who died in 2004, and how he is free from all earthly pressures, makes me rejoice. He was a loved man and will be missed dearly by many many people.