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With the arrival of Baby almost two years ago, I've had it in my head that I should head down to Albuquerque with Baby in tow to get a five generation picture of all of us with my Granddad McMillin.  It didn't go down exactly how I had hoped, but in the end, it was an emotional and wonderful weekend. I contacted my mom about it all.  After all, she's generation number two.  She told me, via email, that she wouldn't be able to go until next year.  This didn't surprise me--my mother never agrees to anything, and I have no doubt that next year, if I contacted her again, she would put me off until an even later date.  When I contacted Vannette (my granddad's wife) about the date, she told me she wasn't sure waiting would work because my granddad is dying. Hold the phones.  What? That's right.  Vannette told me that he was dying, and she assumed that I knew because she had told my mother this information last year. Feather #1,762 in my dysfunctional m

Last week in Johannah's weekly email home, she spoke to my worries about our house not selling.  I told her that we are months away from either foreclosure or bankruptcy, and she had one thing to say:  It'll be okay, Mommy.  God always has a plan. Several months ago, I would have found Hannie's response trite and unfeeling.  However, these past couple of months have torn me down to my core, and I have done everything in my power to bring myself closer to Him so that I can better understand exactly why I am required to suffer. Everyday, I go walking five to eight miles, depending on how I'm feeling and how much time I have. I mentally accepted President Monson's challenge to read the Book of Mormon back in the spring, so half of my walk is spent listening to several chapters in the Book of Mormon.  Then, I give myself a few minutes to think about what I heard--what thought came to my mind, or what words struck me--and I instantly find a General Conference talk on

A couple of years ago, I read "David and Goliath", a book by Malcolm Gladwell.  In it, the author discussed wealthy individuals who grew up with nothing but through hard work, became multi-millionaires.  One of the  main concerns of these rich men was how to raise their own children with the same desperation and desire to make something of themselves when they already have everything.  Would their kids grow up with the same appreciation of the mighty dollar as they had? When I say that I am thankful for my family, I feel the same kind of appreciation of and desperation for a family as those wealthy men did for money when they were young.  My entire life has been spent feeling very alone; feeling as if I need to figure everything out myself because there's no one to help me.  And when I think about "families", those people who have a network of support and love and instant friends, I knew (and still know) that that is my ultimate goal. I do a lot of genealogi

I can't even believe it.  My cutie patootie Globee baby is eighteen stinking years old.  I do believe there were times when I thought she would never grow up.  After all, she still has the same basic haircut that she had when she was three.  Until she changes her haircut, she can't be grown up! No, she's growing up, and the world is showing me that I just can't deny it.  We brought Glo home this weekend for her birthday (thank you, non-stop flights from Salt Lake City to Detroit!), and as soon as I saw her walk out of the airport, I was struck by how beautiful she is.  She has a confidence now that just adds her to her demeanor, and I see that she's so much more than I ever was at her age. Glo had a list of "experiences" she wanted to have in the 46 short hours she was home, and John and I did our very best to make it all happen for our newly-crowned adult. Since she arrived late Friday night, she wanted nothing more than to eat the Panera mac &