Autumn in Arizona.......

....is not like autumn in Utah.  Which stands to reason since Arizona is south of Utah by about 4 tanks of gas, 3 bags of jelly bellies, and 15 million potty breaks.

I have been trying to embrace this new autumnal experience.  It is hard when all I have been reading are lines like "As I emerged from my car, a gold and crimson rain fell all around me, showering me in a kaleidoscope of effervescent hues which dripped, melded, and ran together in the falling leafflakes; a Halloween rain.".  More of that here.

And so I have been struggling to embrace.  Today...today however I embraced.  Think back to my visit to Phoenix in July.  I think I described the kind of heat we are talking about well enough.  You can refresh your memory here.

Now, cut that heat in half.  That's right.  Half.  Just take it right off.  The ability to stand in the sun and not sweat.  That was something to take notice of.  That was today.  And wind.  And sun.  And palm trees.  I think, that when you stand under a palm tree in full wind you may as well be standing in the middle of a field of grain.  You know that deep rushing sound?  That is a sound made for dancing.  And if you take your shoes off and stand in the middle of the sand-filled playground and close your eyes....that 60 degree wind whipping around you....and smile...then you can begin to embrace....

Autumn in Arizona.

Scared?

Every year I ignore my kids declarations of absolute assurance to self awareness.  Every year they proclaim their individuality.  They know who they are, and I don't listen. 

"I am going to be a ________ for Halloween!"  They know it.  They never doubt it.  That blank part?  Oh, that isn't important.  That blank part changes every time they make this statement with sparkling eyes and gleeful little smiles.  So, I ignore it.  Month after month.  Until October hits.  Then I start to take it in.  My palms sweat, beads of perspiration on the brow...I wait...and hope....

I hope it isn't anything I have to make.  I always tell the kids, "You can be whatever you want honey!  Just as long as you can put it together yourself!"

Now, I have heard this from other moms before.  But what you all need to understand is this:  I bought my sewing machine back when I thought I could do anything.  I learned pretty quickly that I can not do everything.  In fact, the sewing machine hates my guts.

Me and my sewing machine have been together for 14 years.  I bought it at Sears.  It has been through lots of moves and has even been on vacation at other peoples houses where it has actually been used.  I have used my sewing machine for two things.  Baby blankets (around the edges only) and costumes.  Today was my 2nd costume.  Today I made an Indian dress.  Today I faced my fear and after an hour of struggle and shaking and nausea, I did it! 

Halloween isn't about the goblins and monsters for some of us.  It is about facing the fear inside.  So, for another year I am safe.  After 1 broken needle and countless re-threading, I experienced what can only be described as repentance. 

"Good bye dear sewing machine.  Let's hope we keep making it out alive!"

Round and Round We Go

So.  Paul and I have been married for 15 and one half years.  We have talked over the years.  Really we have.  And, what's more:  we have communicated.  We have, at times, understood each other.  I am sure of it.  At least....I think we have.  


This, my friends, is an actual conversation that just took place between two people who have lived together for over a decade, have had six children together, and have even talked about stuff over that amount of time.  Important stuff.  Like accidentally leaving your baby in the car.....

paulcox
10:59
I just took my shoes off,....and all of a sudden I feel so much better.

Misty Cox

10:59

lol

10:59

hopefully the people around you are feeling ok still

paulcox
10:59
oh,...yeah.  now that's funny
11:01
how did the baby do on the run/walk?

Misty Cox

11:01

he always does just fine....

11:01

he is very patient

11:01

like when this morning, i took taylor to school....

11:01

and then when i got home

11:01

i came inside and started making lunches for the kids

11:02

and then 10 minutes later asked the kids to see how the baby was

11:02

because he was so quiet

11:02

and then realized after freaking out

11:02

that i had left him in the car

paulcox
11:02
HA!!!
11:02
LOL!!

Misty Cox

11:02

and when i went RUNNING out there he was just sitting there

11:02

waiting

11:02

patiently

11:02

yeah  "go misty!"

paulcox
11:02
sitting out where?

Misty Cox

11:03

in the car seat

paulcox
11:03
you left him in the car again?

Misty Cox

11:03

what?????

paulcox
11:03
twice in a single day?

Misty Cox

11:03

no

11:03

what are you talking about

11:03

you need to re-read that

paulcox
11:04
didn't you just say that you left him in the car?

Misty Cox

11:04

yes.  after taking taylor.

paulcox
11:04
did you Mean to leave him in the car?

Misty Cox

11:04

boy,

11:04

you are not getting it....

11:04

that is sad

11:04

shall i recap???

11:05

let me sum up:

paulcox
11:05
I'm studying to be a lawyer.  I only go with the literal meaning of things,...and it has to be dumbed down quite a bit

Misty Cox

11:05

lol

11:05

here is the dumbed down version:

paulcox
11:05
k

Misty Cox

11:05

took taylor to school (with baby)

11:05

came home

11:05

got out of car (without baby)

11:05

went inside

paulcox
11:05
got it

Misty Cox

11:05

you got it

11:05

that is good

11:05

i was starting to worry

11:05

whew

11:06

now that we understand each other

paulcox
11:06
so did you Mean to leave the baby in the car........

Ahem.  That is where I will leave off.  I trust you understand me here.  If you don't understand the gravity of the situation, and you need to ask me whether or not I meant to leave my precious baby in an empty car alone out in my driveway for 10 minutes, then you might want to ask Paul.  He might be able to answer you.  

Then again, he might not. 

DUI

Moving to Arizona has reminded me that living in Provo, Utah is a different sort of thing.  When we first moved to Utah I went through culture shock.  For five years.  Then I started loving Utah.  Then I didn't want to leave.  Then I left.  Living in Arizona has had it's own culture shock factor.  Weather shock mostly, but there is always the aisles of liquor in the grocery stores I am not used to seeing.  Costco has quite a selection as well.  So do we actually.  We have wine in our closet.  :)  It was delivered here just a few days ago.  Am I tempted?  Nah...I have LDS Drugs of Choice.  I recently discovered Diet Mountain Dew.  But that isn't the reason for this post.  No, no.  I want to write about breaking the law...legally.

I was feeling a little under the weather the day before yesterday. Just a wee cough.  That kept me up ALL NIGHT.  So, the next night I was determined to get sleep.  Because I need that.  Because without that I say rude things and throw fits and stuff.  I took NyQuil.  A full dose.

Now, that doesn't sound like such a big deal really.  I took it at 9:30 PM.  I knew I had to wake up at 5:30 AM.  Plenty of time to make it's way through and out.  Yes?

No.  This tiny bit of alcohol entering into a body that does not have a glass of wine with dinner or a margarita at the local Mexican restaurant is no small thing.  I forgot that.  Again.

So, 5:30 AM came real quick.  I promise you, I could have been thrown in jail from the way I was feeling.  I may as well have had an open six pack of Bud on the passenger seat next to me.  I barely made it home alive.  Oops. 

A little more time and some food fixed the problem.  I know one thing for sure, when driving on the freeway going 75 mph I would rather be tired from no sleep than drugged beyond what is safe and reasonable. 

Or, maybe I should have just had a Diet Mountain Dew before heading out?

The Untitled

I used to sit and cry about my public schooling and home schooling fence sitting position in life.  I could not say with firm and unwavering conviction that I was a "homeschooler".  Nor could I say that I would "never homeschool" since I had and I knew I would again if the need arise.  If I was a true "publicschooler" I could say that the need would not arise in my lifetime.  So, I have sat on the fence.  One foot on one side and one foot on the other. 

I spent my morning today remembering why I sit on that fence the way I do.  I feel like I have just signed my life away.  Again.  For the 3rd time.  For the same school year.  My kids got into a great school in Provo and I signed my life away before I knew we wouldn't be staying in Provo.  Then we moved and I signed my life away to a charter school and a high school.  Then we moved again and I just spent my morning and afternoon signing a stack of papers that would make an escrow department proud.  My hand is killing me.  So is my head.  And honestly, I think all that signing amounted to making sure my kids could:

a)Go to School
b)Get to School
and
c)Take a Tylenol If Needed.

For the last few years I have been happy to sit upon that fence.  Happy I could see both sides of the schooling issue.  I have lived them.  I understand them.  I have loved both experiences in it's own way.  I have taken up comfortable residence on that fence.  I even bought vinyl so it would look nice for years to come with very little maintenance.  Today though....today I am tired.  I am tired of the rules and the paperwork and legalities.  I am tired of hoops.  I understand rules and paperwork and legalities and hoops.  You don't have to lecture me on the importance and functionality and even the divine principle involved in such things.  We don't need to compare such things with eternal lessons today.  Today I am just worn out.  Totally and completely worn out. 

I am going to pitch a tent atop my fence and lay down.  I am going to just exist for the rest of this afternoon.  My heart is tired.  The world is just a little to complicated today.  Would anyone care to join me on my big white vinyl tent covered fence?  I've got treats.....

Red Headed Snippet

I get myself into scrapes a lot.  I was born with the wrong hair color.  I am pretty sure I was sent to this earth to learn moderation in all things.  I am anything but moderate. 

My scrapes usually involve my quick temper, emotional outbursts, or over reactions.  My hair was jet black when I was born, turned almost white by the time I was three, and then made the transformation to brown when really it was supposed to be red all along.  At least then I would have the excuse of being "a redhead".  That seems like a pretty good excuse to me.  I was born with it.  It just is who I am.  Darn!  Guess you'll just have to stand back and watch out!

Then there are those people that were born with just the perfect color hair.  Take Diana Barry for instance.  Anne's bosom buddy from Anne of Green Gables. Bosom buddies don't have to lecture or remind or convince.  They just are.  They are patience and love and kindness and moderation.  Diana just was who she was.  And Anne was better for it.

I needed a Diana Barry in my life.  My Diana has already saved me.  She didn't have to say anything.  She didn't have to do anything.  She just is.  I think everybody needs a Diana.  Thank goodness for the Diana's of the world.  Thank heavens I get to be friends with one. 

And the hair?  I guess I will just keep it brown and not try that excuse....until next time.  There is always a next time.

Sign Me a Message

It was a toss up today.  Do I write about the No Response or do I ponder aloud my thoughts on Legalities.  I decided to go with the No Response. 

(Pause for Response.)

I will assume you responded with an emphatic, "Yes, I agree!"

8 years ago in a town called Lin Don in the great state of Ute Tah there lived an adorable little family with adorable little children.  Upstairs from this adorable family there lived a brand new little family consisting of one young man and one young woman.  The newly married couple loved to have friends over and stomp around till all hours, but that is a different tale indeed, so we will continue with this tale.

One day, the young man came downstairs to fix something outside the house of both adorable families.  My husband and I went out to greet the young man as we had hardly shared two words with them in the time we had spent in our adorable little house.  We talked to him.  We asked him questions.  We sounded inviting and chipper as only one adorable family speaking with another adorable family can.  The young man did not respond.  Maybe he didn't hear us.  Maybe he is shy.  Maybe he is a No Responder.  He didn't respond the entire time we were out there with him, standing at his side, not knowing how to proceed with our one sided conversation.  We shuffled our feet.  We tried again.  We looked around.  Could he be deaf or from a foreign country perhaps?  At last, as he stood to go, he said something.  In English.  He had heard us!  We were just the recieptients of the No Response. 

We saw him time and again after that.  We lovingly referred to him as the No Responder.  In the year and a half we lived there we never did get a direct response from the No Responder.  And in the 8 years since we have fondly remembered and contemplated the No Response.

I think the No Response is actually a Response.  I think the sender is giving you a silent message.  He could be saying, "Please, can't you see that I don't want to chat with you?" or "You are obviously not important enough for me to spend the 2 seconds it would take to hit the traditional reply button." or "I don't know what to say to you and therefore won't be saying anything lest I say something dreadfully wrong." or "I know exactly what I want to say to you and believe you me, you don't want to hear it."  The problem with the No Response is that the message you are receiving is up for interpretation.  The No Responder would do better to learn sign language and fake hearing loss. 

Well, the adorable little family has grown in the last 8 years.  The young man has probably responded a few times since then.  We still talk about the No Response.  Sometimes we laugh and sometimes we don't.  But each time we stop and wait and get the No Response we still scratch our heads and think....

it is never too late to learn sign language buddy.

My Man's Version of Wheaties

For the first 5 years of marriage my dear love would give me a bad time about my sugar focus.  And I had focus baby!  Sugar focus is when you plan for desert before you plan dinner.  Sugar focus is immediate need for sugar intake upon the completion of each and every meal or salty snack.  Sugar focus is impatient and not long suffering.  But time heals all sugar focus problems and now I am proud to announce that my dear love has sugar focus just like me!  How can I tell?  I will let you be the judge.

My dear love's breakfast this morning should convince you.  If not that, then his willingness to go any length for the right amount of butter and sugar and chocolate chips to furnish enough warm cookies to feed (and I use that term very lightly) an entire neighborhood.  Since you are all dying to know what my dear love had for breakfast I will tell you now, and I promise you will be just as gleeful as I was as I shook my finger at him and gave him a nice little lecture on the virtues of a healthy breakfast. 

Say this out loud with me and shake your finger:

"Cocoa Puffs and Oreos and Milk Oh My!"  "Cocoa Puffs and Oreos and Milk Oh My!"

The Breakfast of Champions.  It all just depends on what kind of champion.  :)

Type Me a Compliment...I Mean COMMENT!

I am hopping on the new "Leave a Comment" bandwagon.  If you don't know about it, then you have almost come to the right place.  Almost, but not quite.  The right place is here.  So read that, comment, and then come BACK HERE and comment because if I don't get comments you may be responsible for large quantities of chocolate intake.

I will try to write comment worthy posts.  It is my duty.  Oh blogging...how I love thee.