1- I love waking up in the morning when the new fallen snow glows in through my windows.
2- I love curling up and taking a nap in a warm spot of sunshine when I've been cold. (Something I learned from my old cat.)
3- I love seeing my kids play and work together, and hearing them giggle.
4- I love my husbands silly songs he sings all the time.
5- I love cooking something warm and yummy in my crockpot all day.
6- I love learning how to do new things, or learning that I'm good at something.
7- I love smiling at unsuspecting strangers and getting a smile back.
8- I love cracking ice under my boots.
9- I love coloring and finger painting.
What do you love?
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Death takes a holiday
I think it all began 8 years ago, with one of my most memorable getaways. John and I wanted to get away for a little break. We didn't have much money, so I asked around my current workplace for some ideas. One co-worker suggested Mesquite. I had never heard of it. " It's great!" she said. "You can get a room for $18 a night"! She then went on to tell me how there were lots of fun activities to do there and that it was very kid-friendly, lots of good and inexpensive food, etc. Yes, she said, there was some gambling that went on, but it wasn't smoky or gross.
Once I told John the price, I think he was sold. He had never heard of it either. So we booked a room and off we went. Upon arrival, we were a bit concerned. This looked an awful lot like a cheesy and sleazy gambling town. When we entered the building to check in, of course our fears were confirmed since we walked into a smoke filled casino. Great. I also happened to be 7 months pregnant at the time, so I'm walking around trying to hold my breath so I don't poison my baby with all the second hand smoke that hung in the air like a fog. We went to our dinky little room that apparently was just converted the previous day into a "non-smoking" room from the smell that greeted us there. "Oh well, we're here and we should try to make the best of it" I thought, although John suggested we leave. I was not about to turn around and go back home after all my excitement about taking a vacation. "Maybe the food is good?" I was grasping at straws at this point. So we ventured back into the dingy casino, taking as few breaths as possible, to where the fine eating establishments were. After being seated for about 30 minutes, and deciding on what I could possibly choke down (like I said, I was pregnant, and all that smoke didn't exactly settle my stomach) our waiter finally arrived to take our order. In the meantime, an elderly trio is seated in the next booth, facing me. Somehow they are served before us and start eating. Then I notice the gentleman in the group seems to be struggling for breath. His female companion pounds him on the back, trying to dislodge what he is choking on, but she only succeeds in lodging it in his throat. All this goes completely unnoticed by any member of the staff, or, it seems, anyone else but me. Just then our waiter arrives, and I inform him of the situation. "That man is choking!" "What?" he says."That guy" I say, pointing, "right there, he's choking!" The waiter promptly panics and tries to get someone else to come help, but no one responds right away. With my big belly, I couldn't lift the ailing man up. So th waiter attempts the heimlich maneuver with no success. At this point, the man is turning blue. The EMT finally arrives and the food goes shooting out of the poor man. But it is too late. He died right there in front of us. The EMT's take him away, his sobbing party in tow. The waiter turns to us and says to us, "Did you still want to order? We'll give it to you for free." Hmmm. Some how I don't feel like eating anymore.
That was my worst vacation.
My second one took place some years later. By then, I had Ethan and Julie with me. It was an extended Lyde family vacation to Lava Hot Springs in Idaho. It was pretty nice, until the lifeguards started yelling and blowing their whistles for everyone to get out of the pool (this was no easy task with the hundreds of people that were packed into the pool that day). Soon we see the reason why as they pull a 10 year old boys lifeless body from the pool about 20 feet away from us. For a few tense moments they administered CPR to the boy. Thankfully, they were able to revive him and a cheer went up from the watching crowd.
Now, I ask myself, are my vacations hazardous to the health of those around me?!
I don't mean to trivialize these very real and traumatic events, nor the grief that their loved ones went through. It just seems so unlikely that this kind of thing would happen so close to me, twice, both while vacationing. Do you see the irony??
Those vacations make what happened to me this morning, on my 11th anniversary holiday, comical.
John and I are spending relaxing night over at the Little America hotel, on Tanya's reccomendation. The room and facilities are beautiful. The staff are helpful and accomodating. We had a nice dinner and looked forward to sleeping in in the morning, a luxury we don't get at home with our early risers. I am peacefully sleeping away, when I hear a police siren, then another, then another. They will pass by and fade out soon enough, I think to myself. But they're not fading. In fact, they sound like they're not going anywhere. How many sirens is that?! Is the building across the street on fire or something?!
Looking at the clock, it is just before 7 am. I stumble out of bed and look out to the street below, where I see an ocean of police cars, each with their siren blaring. But I don't see anything wrong. Yet there they sit.
Come to find out, it is the annual "shop with a cop" charitable event, where the police officers take underpriviledged children shopping for Christmas before the stores open. Apparently they all have breakfast together downstairs in the ballroom first. Great. Now I can't even be mad about it.
Once I told John the price, I think he was sold. He had never heard of it either. So we booked a room and off we went. Upon arrival, we were a bit concerned. This looked an awful lot like a cheesy and sleazy gambling town. When we entered the building to check in, of course our fears were confirmed since we walked into a smoke filled casino. Great. I also happened to be 7 months pregnant at the time, so I'm walking around trying to hold my breath so I don't poison my baby with all the second hand smoke that hung in the air like a fog. We went to our dinky little room that apparently was just converted the previous day into a "non-smoking" room from the smell that greeted us there. "Oh well, we're here and we should try to make the best of it" I thought, although John suggested we leave. I was not about to turn around and go back home after all my excitement about taking a vacation. "Maybe the food is good?" I was grasping at straws at this point. So we ventured back into the dingy casino, taking as few breaths as possible, to where the fine eating establishments were. After being seated for about 30 minutes, and deciding on what I could possibly choke down (like I said, I was pregnant, and all that smoke didn't exactly settle my stomach) our waiter finally arrived to take our order. In the meantime, an elderly trio is seated in the next booth, facing me. Somehow they are served before us and start eating. Then I notice the gentleman in the group seems to be struggling for breath. His female companion pounds him on the back, trying to dislodge what he is choking on, but she only succeeds in lodging it in his throat. All this goes completely unnoticed by any member of the staff, or, it seems, anyone else but me. Just then our waiter arrives, and I inform him of the situation. "That man is choking!" "What?" he says."That guy" I say, pointing, "right there, he's choking!" The waiter promptly panics and tries to get someone else to come help, but no one responds right away. With my big belly, I couldn't lift the ailing man up. So th waiter attempts the heimlich maneuver with no success. At this point, the man is turning blue. The EMT finally arrives and the food goes shooting out of the poor man. But it is too late. He died right there in front of us. The EMT's take him away, his sobbing party in tow. The waiter turns to us and says to us, "Did you still want to order? We'll give it to you for free." Hmmm. Some how I don't feel like eating anymore.
That was my worst vacation.
My second one took place some years later. By then, I had Ethan and Julie with me. It was an extended Lyde family vacation to Lava Hot Springs in Idaho. It was pretty nice, until the lifeguards started yelling and blowing their whistles for everyone to get out of the pool (this was no easy task with the hundreds of people that were packed into the pool that day). Soon we see the reason why as they pull a 10 year old boys lifeless body from the pool about 20 feet away from us. For a few tense moments they administered CPR to the boy. Thankfully, they were able to revive him and a cheer went up from the watching crowd.
Now, I ask myself, are my vacations hazardous to the health of those around me?!
I don't mean to trivialize these very real and traumatic events, nor the grief that their loved ones went through. It just seems so unlikely that this kind of thing would happen so close to me, twice, both while vacationing. Do you see the irony??
Those vacations make what happened to me this morning, on my 11th anniversary holiday, comical.
John and I are spending relaxing night over at the Little America hotel, on Tanya's reccomendation. The room and facilities are beautiful. The staff are helpful and accomodating. We had a nice dinner and looked forward to sleeping in in the morning, a luxury we don't get at home with our early risers. I am peacefully sleeping away, when I hear a police siren, then another, then another. They will pass by and fade out soon enough, I think to myself. But they're not fading. In fact, they sound like they're not going anywhere. How many sirens is that?! Is the building across the street on fire or something?!
Looking at the clock, it is just before 7 am. I stumble out of bed and look out to the street below, where I see an ocean of police cars, each with their siren blaring. But I don't see anything wrong. Yet there they sit.
Come to find out, it is the annual "shop with a cop" charitable event, where the police officers take underpriviledged children shopping for Christmas before the stores open. Apparently they all have breakfast together downstairs in the ballroom first. Great. Now I can't even be mad about it.
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