Grandpa

My Grandpa Ray left us one year ago today.  I did not write anything then. I made one post on facebook and then I became silent about it. It was too much for me to write then - too many emotions, too much real life to deal with.  My brothers reacted so intensely to it that I suddenly had to become the one to hold it all together, because no one else was...and it took a lot longer for me to finally let it all sink in. Grieving his death has been very different from others in the past. When I got the call on February 14th, around 8:00 at night as I sat alone in my car in the Costco parking lot, I cried - but so many of my tears were tears of thanks. He had been so alone and sad for so long, and it was heartbreaking for him to slowly loose control of his once-solid-as-oak cowboy body, and it was especially hard for him to slowly loose his ability to play music...he spent 93 long years on this earth, and he was so, so tired.  He was ready to go home to his wife and his children, all of whom he lost over a decade ago. As heartbroken as I was at this very moment one year ago, I was grateful that God finally brought him home. So it is not so much a sadness...it's more of a void. An empty hole in the family. It's harder to exist in a world where the greatest man I have ever known does not. It's just a void. One that I doubt will ever be filled.

In honor of my beloved Grandpa, I felt I needed to finally write something. When it all happened last year, I became entrenched in writing his obituary, his funeral program, his eulogy...I didn't have any words left to share here.  Now, a year later, I want to share what I read at his memorial service, for those who could not make it, for those who remember him, and just for me to have years from now to look back on.

This is a letter that I wrote to my Grandpa Ray for his 90th birthday in 2012.  Some friends of his threw him a huge birthday party in Prescott, but I was pregnant and on bed rest, so I wrote a letter to honor him.  He kept the letter in his bedroom until he died, and then I chose to read it ah his service. It said everything that I wanted to say, and it still does.

My Dearest Grandpa,

Today you are celebrating 90 years on this earth.  As I think of this fact, I am overwhelmed by the life you have lived.  I have heard countless stories, I know all the important facts and details, and I have viewed priceless photos…but I know there is still so much that you have lived that I know so little about.  It overwhelms me to think of the amount of laughter you have shared, the amount of tears you have shed, the amount of lives you have touched, the amount of priceless and breathtaking moments you have experienced. 

I have only been witness to a small part of your life.  As your youngest grandchild, you had already experienced 63 years before I was born.  But in MY life, you have always been there. You have been a part of almost every memory, witness to every moment.  You taught me to ride a bike – and a horse.  You doctored my wounds when I was bit by a team of fire ants.  You picked me up the day I tried to be a basketball player.  You were at every dance recital, every play.  You ate every horrible cake – saying it was “just the way you liked it.”  You were there to see me off to my Prom.  You held my newborn son in your arms.  You were there to hug me each time as we laid my mother, and both of my grandmothers, to rest.  I never had a father in my life – but I never felt deprived – because Grandpa was always there.

 You are the rock of our family, the glue that has held us all together.  We have lost much throughout the years, but YOU have remained.  You have weathered more pain than any of us, yet through it all you have stood strong - with your big heart, your funny stories, and your beautiful music.  What an incredible blessing it has been to have you in our lives.

I want you to know that I have never known a more selfless, brave or loving man than you. 

It is an honor to be your granddaughter.

All My Love,

Gina Marie (Your Little Girl, always)

In loving memory of Ray Gardner

1922-2015

30.

Today is my 30th birthday.

Last year, at this exact moment, I wrote that I have never felt more old or more exhausted than I did right then.  I was most definitely wrong, as this past year has aged me even more, and due to recent medical problems and a diagnosis just last night, I have really never been more exhausted.  But I can also say that, right now, at this moment, as I say goodbye to an entire decade and era of my life, I have never been happier.

My twenties were incredibly hard, and often heartbreaking.  I lived through experiences that most people save for much older years. But I also found love, I found my home in Utah, and most importantly, I found myself.

The decade of pain and struggle is behind me.  I walk into the next decade of my life with an incredible belief in hope and miracles.  I am surrounded by them lately.  I witnessed a miracle today, as my brother and sister-in-law brought home a baby girl after trying to have children of their own for eight years. I witnessed one a few weeks ago that is too personal to share, but it is one that I will never forget as long as I live.  The fact that I am even celebrating a birthday is a miracle, given that 30 years ago my mother faced life-threatening pregnancy complications, was urged to terminate her pregnancy, and when I was born ten weeks early no one believed I would live. But here I am.  And in just three days, I will be sealed for time and all eternity to my husband and my children in a Temple of the Lord - a dream come true that is too incredible to even know how to write about.  I have come to a place in my life where I am ready to stop living in the darkness. (As long as I have plenty of SPF 1000 sunscreen, of course.)

My thirties will be amazing and they will be challenging.  I am struggling with my career, my health, and my future...but underneath it all, I am happy.  I know who I am, I know God has a plan for me, and I have an eternal family that will stand with me no matter what.

Here's to my next thirty years. (Damn that Tim McGraw - been stuck in my head all day.)

Who She Thought I Would Be

The last time I wrote was one year ago today.

That very same day, I applied for a job online.  I was offered the job a few days later, and thus began the incredible whirlwind and upheaval of the past year of my life.  And now here it is, a full year later, and I realize how much has happened, how much has slipped away, how much has been lost, and how much has been gained.

Another year has passed, and given tradition, it is now time to write.


Just a few minutes ago, as Pete kissed me goodnight before heading to bed, he saw me staring at the post I wrote last year.  In an attempt to break the silence, he said,

"You know she's proud of you."

My response?  "I hope so."  And then he asked, "well why wouldn't she be?"

And then I started thinking.  Thinking about the past year.  Thinking about how often people in my life have told me that my mother would be so proud of me.  But it hasn't been until tonight that I have actually felt it.  The truth is, the past year of my life has been the first year ever that I feel like I'm actually becoming the woman my mom always hoped I would be.

She always knew I would be a teacher.  She used to tell me that all the time, no matter how much I would refuse the idea.  She always hoped that I would have several children, and somehow in the past year I went from thinking I was done having children to wanting more so badly it hurts.  She always believed that I would earn a graduate degree or even higher, and not only am I now just one class away from my master's degree, I also did it while teaching full time and mothering two children.  I believe that she wanted Nathan and I to grow old close by each other, and while we may not live next door to each other just yet, this year has brought us a lot closer.  She always wanted me to have a better life financially then she ever had, and when I look around at the house that I just moved into, the biggest house I have ever lived in in my life (even though it is still only a townhouse), I think she would be so happy.  She hoped I would someday play the piano, and I chose last month to start teaching myself.  She wanted my children to grow up knowing the Gospel, and my first child was baptized eight months ago.  She dreamed that I would someday be married to a worthy priesthood holder, and the miracles that have taken place over the past year have finally made that dream a reality.  Thinking about all of these things, I can't help but sit here in utter disbelief, asking myself, is it really possible that I am finally walking down the path of my destiny?  It is possible that I am finally right where I am meant to be?  Is it possible that I am finally becoming the woman she always thought I would be?  And why the hell is she not here to be a part of it?

Surely, there are things about me that would drive my mother insane.  She would hate my choice to dye my naturally blonde hair.  She would disapprove of most of my clothing.  She would probably think that my use of essential oils and obsession with poisonous preservatives is far to hippy-ish.  But none of those things mean anything.  None of it really matters.  But for the first time in my entire life, I feel like she would actually be truly proud of the things that do matter.  Yet she's not here.  She's not here to give me sage teaching advice, she's not here to celebrate my graduation, she's not here to help me figure out how to have another baby while still keeping my career, she's not here when my kids are baptized, she's not here to teach me how to play the piano, and she won't be here in three months when I go to the temple to be sealed.  It is an incredibly bittersweet feeling, stronger than I have ever felt before, to think about how proud she probably would be of everything I have worked so hard for this year, but also knowing I cannot experience any of it with her.  Yes, I know she is still watching everything, I know she is still here, but it's just not the same. And that heartache lies heavy on me tonight.

It has been fourteen years. Will it ever feel any different?  Will it ever be the same?

I want her to be proud. I want her to know that I'm trying.  I want her to know that I wouldn't be where I am without her.  And I cannot wait to someday be the woman she always thought I would be - because no one else believed in me more or had bigger dreams for me than her.  It's like she knew what I was capable of from my birth, and now that I am a mother myself, I finally understand that.  And that is why I trust it.

I miss her. Everyday. I always will.

But I will keep going.  I will keep smiling.  And that is what would truly make her the most proud. Above all, that is who she thought I would be.

In memory of my Mother,

Raelene Metcalf

November 1, 1949 - August 17th, 2001

Other posts written on this day:

August 17th, 2014: Everything

August 17th, 2013: Just One Moment

August 17th, 2012: This Year.

August 17th, 2011: A Decade

August 17th, 2010: August 17th

Everything.

Well, the earth has made another trip around the sun. 

And it has now been 13 years.

In the years past, it has always been cathartic for me to write...but today has been different.

I have spent much of the day in silence, and I have had no desire to write. Honestly, I haven't felt that there is anything to say. 

I keep thinking about a quote that I posted on Facebook this morning, a quote I have posted several times over the years, from an amazing book called Motherless Daughters:

"Yes, everything's been said a thousand times. Only one word has never been said, nor will I say it now, because you are alive in me: my venerable, beloved, imperishable Mother. Wait for me."

The part that keeps ringing in my head is "everything's been said a thousand times."  I think that's why it has been so hard for me write or even talk today.  It's simply as though everything has just already been said.

It was awful. It still is. It was merciful. It still is. I miss her, every single day. Yet it has been so long now that I can't really remember what I felt like before she was gone.  One more year without her, one year closer to when I see her again. I miss her. I will never stop missing her. 

Yes, it has all been said a thousand times. And today I felt the heaviness of it.

Sadness has turned into fatigue.

Even after a full night of sleep, it was incredibly difficult to wake up this morning. I could barely keep my eyes open in church. After church, I put Kennedy down for a nap, then I crawled into my bed and fell asleep within two minutes. I slept for 3 hours. I woke up to take my daughter of her crib and put her downstairs with her big brother. They began to play, while it took all of my energy to hazily climb back upstairs and into my bed. I slept for another 45 minutes before I the children woke me, but I felt like I could have slept another 14 hours more.  Now it is the middle of the night.  I am awake only because my baby is sick to her stomach and lying on the floor watching Baby Einstein is the only thing making her feel better. So I sit here, utterly exhausted, forcing myself to write in an effort to keep my eyes from closing.

It has become clear to me that carrying a loss so profound as the death of your mother can be a very heavy weight to carry. And heavy weights can be exhausting, especially on days like today. But as heavy as it may be, the loss helps me be a better person. It helps me become a better mother, it helps me teach others, it has taught me invaluable truths. It makes me stronger and it pulls me closer to God.  It is part of my identity, part of my history, part of my destiny. And for those reasons, the burden is essential. 

So I will take the fatigue. I will let myself be sad, and tired, and quiet for today. I will wake up tomorrow and today will be gone, the earth will begin another trip around the sun, and I will move forward. I will find a way to rest, knowing that everything has been said and everything has been felt. But everything is as it should be. And something about that brings me peace.

Today and every day, I miss you. 

Wait for me.

My Momma

November. 1, 1949 - August 17, 2001

August 17th, 2013: Just One Moment

August 17th, 2012: This Year

August 17th, 2011: A Decade

August 17th, 2010: August 17th

The Wise Words of Lumiere

No, I am not talking about some romantic French poet or lyricist. I really am talking about this guy.

Try the grey stuff, it's delicious.

The song, "Be Our Guest" from Disney's Beauty and the Beast has many fantastic moments, especially for us 90's kids. But the best line ever?

LUMIERE:

If you're stressed

It's fine dining we suggest!

Yup. That little gold guy is truly enlightened.

"Hi. My name is Gina. And I am Foodie."

I love good food. I love the ambiance of restaurants and chefs and people enjoying life over a table. I love comparing a single dish at several different restaurants and trying new dishes that sound amazing. I love watching the Food Network despite the fact that my cooking skills are akin to the skills of an eight-year-old.  Mexican, French, Asian, Indian, Italian, Greek, steaks, salads, desserts, burgers, pizza. Fancy, casual, or hole-in-the-wall.  It doesn't matter, as long as it's good.

Luckily for me, I have two great enablers: 1) My husband is a foodie too; and 2) We live five hours from Las Vegas.

Some people may think of Vegas as Sin City, or the City of Entertainment, or even just a pit of gambling and nightclub madness.  But for Pete and me, the city of lights serves as a Foodie Paradise. It also helps that we have a soft spot in our hearts for Vegas, given that we got engaged and married there, so we have good reason to return every so often. In the past 5 years, Pete and I have made 8 trips to Vegas, totaling 27 days (including our wedding and honeymoon). A while back, Pete thought it would be fun to compile a list of all the different Vegas restaurants we have eaten at over the years, and we thought it might make an interesting blog post (or, rather, we were just incredibly bored one night). 

So, as of our most recent trip (last week), we have eaten at...

...wait for it...

47 different Las Vegas restaurants. 

Several were revisited multiple times, so the number of occasions is actually higher, but the location count stands at 47. Yeah. I wasn't kidding when I said we were foodies.

So here's the list (in chronological order, thanks to my eidetic memory):

Margaritaville, Victorian Room, Bellagio Buffet, Harley Davidson Cafe, Nine Fine Irishmen, Eiffel Tower Restaurant, Mon Ami Gabi, Trevi, Primo Gelato, Sirrico's Pizza, Le Creperie, Venetian Food Court, JJ's Boulangerie, The Drugstore, Kokomo's, MGM Buffet, Gordon Biersch, Zoozacrackers, Serendipity3, Grand Lux Cafe, Rainforest Cafe, Dick's Last Resort, Smith & Wollensky, Encore Lobby Cafe, Bartalotta, Yolo's, Tableau, Chipotle, Todd English Olives, The Sugar Factory, The Buffet at Wynn, Wolfgang Puck's Postrio, Origin India, Ferraro's Italian, Tao, Bobby Flay's Mesa Grill, Flamingo Pool Cafe, Le Buffet at Paris, SW Steakhouse, Buddy V's, Society Cafe, Wazuzu, Lavo, Guy Fieri's Vegas Kitchen, Canaletto, and Carlo's Bake Shop.

And now here's a little trip down memory lane...

Trevi, 2009

Eiffel Tower Restaurant, 2009 (Yes Pete is wearing a
a wedding ring two years before our wedding...long story...)

Eiffel Tower Restaurant, 2010 (I look so stupid nervous because I was
expecting Pete to propose right after the photo...but he didn't...)

Eiffel Tower Restaurant, 2010

Kokomo's, 2010 - The biggest slice of prime rib known to man

Chipotle, 2011 - Yes, I really do love Chipotle that much

Chipotle, 2014

Dick's Last Resort, 2011 (Our bachelor/bachelorette party dinner - kudos to
Holli for the awesome photo bomb)

Dick's Last Resort, 2011 (The first cheeseburger I had eaten in six months
thanks to pre-wedding dieting. It was the best burger EVER)

Tao, 2011

Tao, 2012, while pregnant with Baby K

Serendipity3, 2010 - Frozen Hot Chocolate

Serendipity3, 2012 with Nathan and Angela

Serendipity3, 2013 - Frozen Hot Chocolate
and a very excited little boy

Wazuzu, 2014 - Drunken Noodles (featured on Food
Network's Best Thing I Ever Ate)

Wazuzu, 2014 - Potstickers

SW Steakhouse, 2014 - Caesar Salad Boat

SW Steakhouse, 2014 - Chili Rubbed Ribeye (featured on Food
Network's Best Thing I Ever Ate)

SW Steakhouse, 2014

Tableau, 2014 - Best Eggs Benedict I've ever had

Buddy V's, 2014 - New Jersey Lasagna

Carlo's Bakery, 2014 (It was still under construction in this pic, but we ate
there three months later)

Lavo, 2014 - Giant meatball (about the size of a softball)

Lavo, 2014 - Tiramasu

Smith & Wollensky (Wedding Welcome Dinner), 2011

Our wedding reception food catered by Masterpiece
Cuisine, 2011

Sugar Factory, 2011

Society Cafe, 2014 - Prime Rib Egg Sliders (featured on Food
Network's Best Thing I Ever Ate)

Society Cafe, 2014 - Lemon Riccota Pancakes

Guy Fieri's Vegas Kitchen, 2014

Yes, our love of food has its drawbacks (those pesky things called calories), but we usually make up for it by crash dieting and binge workouts before our trips - which makes the food taste that much better once we get there!  But even despite the calories, I cherish the fact that Pete and I have been able to make so many great memories over the years while sharing meals (both the good and the bad), watching the Food Network all night, and pinning delicious recipes on Pinterest that will most likely never appear in out kitchen.  Our trips to Vegas - and all of the 47 restaurants on our list - bring back memories that not only make my stomach growl, but also make me smile. And for that, every calorie eaten and every dollar spent has been worth it. And I look forward to many more.

Okay it's time to wrap this up. This post has made me hungry. And I want to go watch Beauty and the Beast. 

Don't forget - If you're stressed, it's fine dining we suggest!

Au Revoir.

Independence Day

I have returned!

Where have I been for four months??  Well, I've been in Vegas, and I threw a graduation party, and I redecorated our bedroom, and I threw a Luau, and I repainted and redecorated the bathroom, and I've been setting up a business, and I got hired for a summer teaching job, and I've been making lesson plans, and I was in Vegas again, and I've been busy with kids, and then my teaching job got canceled, and then I was in Vegas a third time...and now suddenly here it is, Independence Day, and I feel like the summer has been flying by so fast I've almost missed it. So it is time to write before even more time slips between my fingers.

I realized this morning that it was 10 years ago today that I was lucky enough to spend our nation's birthday in our nation's capital. What an unforgettable day it was.  It was pouring rain all day, the parades and fairs were canceled, and the streets were flooded.  I remember trying to walk through water over a foot deep before taking sanctuary in the Smithsonian Natural History Museum, and I had to buy a sweatshirt at the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum to keep me warm - in July! The rain stopped in the evening, however, and my ex husband and I camped out on the stairs of the Lincoln Monument for hours, just waiting for the fireworks. Man. The fireworks in Washington DC - as seen from the top of the Lincoln Monument, bursting over the top of the Washington Monument - are a memory I will never forget. And I have no photos of it either, so it has become one of those memories that live solely in my mind and thus take on an overly-magical quality.  It is hard to believe it has been a entire decade since that day - since that life.  I was so young, so naive, so jaded. But I was also happy, on that day especially, and I am always thankful for memories of happiness.

Independence Day is my second favorite holiday behind Halloween. And not just because I am an over-patriotic history teacher, but mostly because some of the happiest memories of my childhood took place on Independence Day. My family was always together on the Fourth of July, we spent years taking trips to Sedona, swimming at Slide Rock, eating picnics under the fireworks. As a teenager I spent the holiday with my friends - watching fireworks, laughing, reviling in our innocence, and enjoying our own brand of independence. The Fourth of July always seemed to be a good day...no matter how awful the rest of year may have been, and often was.

As evidenced by where I was ten years ago today, my Independence Days as an adult have been pretty good too. Here's a look back at the past few years...

July 4th, 2008, in Sedona

July 4th, 2008, in Sedona

July 4th, 2009, watching fireworks in Peoria

July 4th, 2009, watching fireworks in Peoria

July 4th, 2010, watching fireworks in Peoria again

July 4th, 2013, my sweet baby girl

July 4th, 2013, my sweet boy at the Freedom Parade

Tonight will be Kennedy's first fireworks (she slept through them last year) and we are going to the street fair downtown.  I can only hope to make memories with my kids that, maybe someday, they will cherish the way I cherish the Independence Day memories of my childhood. And if not...well, at least there's usually always good food and pyrotechnics to get us through the night.

Happy Independence Day, America.

On Being a Vampire

I haven't written in a long time. I've been in a rut.

A vampire rut, actually.

No, this does not mean I've taken to drinking blood or reading the Twilight series (Thank God).  But I have developed an inability to sleep when the sun is down and I'm getting pretty sick of it.  I've been averaging only a few hours of sleep a night for the past couple months, leaving me utterly exhausted during the day.  I've established a pretty good routine of napping while Kennedy naps, though - which might seem like a good solution...but I think it's only made matters worse.  I've tried to make myself stay awake all day in hopes of being tired enough to actually sleep at night, but staying awake all day has become one of the hardest tasks EVER.  The whole thing got annoying enough that I finally went to the doctor a couple weeks ago to get a blood test, and was told the very strange news that I apparently had Mono (a virus that causes extreme fatigue and generally awful feelings for weeks or even months) at some point recently, but it is no longer "active," meaning I am no longer contagious and don't require any treatment, but am still obviously feeling the effects.  Even weirder, Mono is usually contracted through kissing...and my husband doesn't have it...so apparently I've been accosted by other fellow Mono-carrying vampires in my sleep (or some other explanation that makes more sense...I just haven't figured it out).

Despite the Mono, however, I am still struggling to sleep at night like a normal non-vampire person...except for the fact that Pete and I went to Vegas last week and I had no problem falling asleep (or sleeping like a rock) in the amazing bed at Encore, sans children and school and everyday life. This phenomenon has led to me being incredibly mopey ever since we got home and spending an extraordinary amount of time trying to conjure up reasons that we could 1) justify, 2) afford, and 3) do something with the children to allow a return trip as soon as humanly possible.  Of course I've also been doing homework, playing with Kennedy, Pinterest-ing ideas to redecorate our bedroom, and stressing over the issue of whether or not I am going to try to go back to work in the fall.  This may not sound like a true rut...but that's because I haven't mentioned the fact that I have no energy or motivation to unpack...or clean the house...or do laundry...or go grocery shopping...or get outside...or even put real clothes on. Yup, I'm in a rut. And all I want to do is sleep. In a Wynn Dream Bed at Encore. Mmmmm.

But alas, homework, a hungry baby and an episode of Gilmore Girls are all calling my name, so I guess that dream will have to wait.