Found this little note taped to my toilet this morning. I guess I'm glad she decided to draw a picture instead of just leaving it in the toilet for me to see.
Wednesday, November 16, 2016
This is a simple story of a simple-minded dog that got sprayed by a skunk and stunk up the house. In desperation the dog's owners gave the stinky dog a bath in marinara sauce and petite diced tomatoes. Now the dog is orange and smells like a pizza.
Tuesday, November 15, 2016
So, I have had a rough couple of weeks. Nothing tragic, just some stressful things that caused me to take pause and feel sorry for myself for a few days. It is easy to get into a funk about life sometimes and to totally forget to count your blessings. For me, one of the best ways to get over said funk is to get outside. Last weekend I had a chance to do just that.
The family drove down to Staunton, Virginia to visit the Frontier Culture Museum and then we took a lovely little hike to the Natural Bridge. The air was crisp, the leaves were still pretty, and it was nice to enjoy the simplicity of being outside with the kids. It was just what the doctor ordered. The day was not without the typical Butler challenges. There was definitely a vomiting incident and the kids fought like cats and dogs, but Atley only disappeared once and that was only at Cracker Barrel, so it was all good.
The Frontier Culture Museum is a living history museum composed of small farms and re-enactors depicting different time periods in U.S., European, and African history.
West African Farm circa 1740's
1600's Yeoman English Farmhouse
1700's German Farmhouse
1740's Colonial America Farmstead
1850's American Farmstead
Natural Bridge, Virginia. Thomas Jefferson bought this landmark from King George for $2.40. No wonder we won the Revolutionary War. Watch out for FALLING ROCK!
Harley's face is an expression of her disappointment in the majestic waterfall we promised.
A leaf as big as your head.
Annual picture by Mr. Pumpkinhead
I like the decorating part of Halloween. I love the candy part of Halloween. I even like the Jack 'O Lantern part of Halloween, but I don't really love the whole dressing up part of Halloween. My kids always pick the most bizarre costumes. No princesses or superheroes in this house. That being said, I don't know why I found it sort of heart breaking that Atley didn't want to dress up this year. In fact, he wasn't even with us for the school trunk-or-treat festivities or the church festivities because he had other "commitments". Granted, that was true but, WHAAA! That sucks. He tells me he is practically a man. A very tiny unorganized man, who still needs to be reminded to shower, but a man none the less. Anyway, here are our Halloween pictures, sans Atley in costume.
Is there anything cuter than a praying Sumo?
Harley and I did get to dress like twins for orange and black day at school. I guess that was fun. Although looking at this picture of myself makes me think perhaps my name is Mrs. Pumpkinhead.
Monday, October 10, 2016
When I was in the operating room getting ready to deliver Harley Belle, a nurse, in a valiant effort to distract me, asked what I was going to name my soon to arrive baby girl. I told the nurse her name would be Harley. The kind nurse then asked me where I came up with such a unique name. I explained that it was my grandfather’s name, and that, boy or girl, this baby would be called Harley. To further ease my nerves, she continued her diverting chatter and asked me about my grandfather. She said, “You must think a lot of this gentleman if you are going to name your child after him.” Without hesitation, I replied that my grandpa was the most loyal and hardworking person I knew and that if this little girl had those same attributes, she would do just fine in life. The nurse wholeheartedly agreed.
For the second summer in a row I lost a grandfather. On August 5, 2016 my grandpa, Harley Gilleland died. I witnessed the suffering and humility that death brought to a man whom I assumed was larger than life. I am again comforted in the knowledge that families are forever and I will see him again. I was fortunate enough to be in his company during the last few weeks of his life. I had to return home to Virginia a few days before his passing and it was devastating to have to leave. I knew I would never see him again in this life. Of course, in his permanently logical manner he expressed to me his desire that I not return for the funeral. I can still hear his gruff voice saying, “You don’t come back for a funeral, Lis. It’s just too much, Hon. You go home and be with Scott. We’ll be fine.” Trying my best to control my emotions I kissed him on the forehead and choking back my sobs I told him I loved him as I rushed out of the hospital room. My only solace was in knowing he would soon be out of pain.
The morning he died I woke up early and looked out of my window to the small rose garden in my front yard. It was in shambles, having been neglected most of the summer while our family traveled. I knew grandpa’s roses would never be so unkempt. The phone call came as I sat shamefully staring at my weed ridden garden. I knew in that moment all I could do to honor my grandfather, the exemplary gardener, was to get to work. I pulled on my boots and spent the duration of the day trying to salvage my uncared for roses. I felt he was near me the whole time, which is probably why I chose to keep working long after my hands and back were unbearably sore.
My grandfather’s yard and garden is famous in our small town. He and grandma never shied away from a moment of hardwork. Their home and yard was always in a state of flawlessness. My grandfather was a perfectionist, unlike any I have ever known. In fact, when I got my first car I used to take it to grandpa’s house to wash it. My excuse was that his driveway was so much bigger than our own. But, the reality was, I knew grandpa would never be able to tolerate how I was washing my car and would soon take over the task. Within a few hours, he would have my car looking show room ready with a fresh coat of wax and air in all the tires. This transformation would take place all while I watched from the comfort of the garage, drinking my pop and eating the cookies that grandma would inevitably provide when anyone came around.
My first real memories of my grandpa were when I was in the first grade. My parents and I were living in Nevada where my dad was working for a gold mine. They sent me to Colorado for a few weeks that summer and the summer after that, before we moved back to Colorado permanently. Grandma and Grandpa had an enormous bed, at least it seemed enormous to me. It was certainly big enough for all three of us to sleep in each night comfortably. I remember thinking if I ever got a bed this big I will have all I ever wanted out of life. But before we crawled into bed at night Grandpa and Grandma always kneeled down beside it and grandpa would pray. I would sneak a peek from under my bowed head to watch grandpa from across the king-sized chasm. It was fascinating to watch this tough man bow his head and pray each night. He would express his gratitude for what he had been given and pray for me and other members of our family. In those sweet moments, as a five year old girl, he taught me how to talk to God, express gratitude and humbly ask for His divine guidance and protection. I have seldom missed a nightly prayer since those days. The gift of prayer has been one of the most powerful lessons I could have ever learned in this life and it came from the example of my grandfather. After prayers, the three of us would pile into bed and watch Johnny Carson or Benny Hill. I would fall asleep with the comfort of grandpa’s deep laugh and the smell of his after shave coming from the pillow next to mine.
Some of my fondest memories were being in the mountains with him. He would tell us ghost stories or accounts of his boyhood as we sat around the campfire at night. All the grandkids would listen in complete silence, because he was the strongest, bravest man we knew and we adored him. We would hike around the mountains surrounding the cabin and grandpa would encourage me to pick up and squeeze the animal droppings between my chubby fingers to discern whether the scat was fresh or not. Of course, I was assured that this was for our safety, or to help in the tracking process when it was hunting season. I loved to drive in Grandma and Grandpa’s truck up to the mountains. Grandpa always played Julio Iglesias in the cassette player and he would sing along with a Spanish accent. His favorite trick was pretending the brakes were out in the car. Although, I had been a victim of the joke repeatedly, I was continually terrified as we rounded each bend of the treacherously steep mountain pass. Each time he convinced me that this occasion was the real deal, until Grandma would finally say, “Harley that’s enough!” and grandpa would look at me smiling and say, “Did I scare ya Lis?” He even tried this trick once when I was on the motorcycle with him. I was sitting in front of him and we were riding down to the river. We were traveling down a small hill with a large rock at the bottom. Suddenly, Grandpa claimed he had lost his brakes and complete control of the motorcycle. We were gaining speed and heading straight for the boulder and what would ultimately be our demise. I was screaming and he was yelling that this was the end. I did what any 7 year old would do when faced with certain death, I grabbed the handle bars and yanked them as hard as I could away from that rock and then attempted to jump off the motorcycle. Well, this choice almost caused us both to crash and in a miraculous maneuver Grandpa managed to keep the bike upright and me safely on board. However, I was promptly removed from said bike and given a swift spanking and lecture for grabbing the handle bars. This punishment was followed immediately, by an almost painful bear hug and an apology for scaring me so badly. History repeated itself almost thirty years later when riding an ATV with Atley. Grandpa and Grandma were on the four-wheeler behind us. I attempted one of Grandpa’s old tricks. Atley got nervous and yanked the handle bars of our ATV, almost causing us to careen down the side of the mountain. I promptly removed him and told him he had to walk back. I was furious and terrified. Grandpa and Grandma put Atley on board with them and Grandpa told me I was way too hard on the boy. I decided not to remind him of the motorcycle spanking of ’85.
When my parents moved to Bolivia, Grandma and Grandpa graciously let me move all my stuff into their house so I still had “my room” to come home to when I visited from college. Every time I flew home Grandma and Grandpa were always there waiting to pick me up. I think they arrived at the airport hours before my plane was supposed to arrive and because it was pre-9/11, grandpa would be at the very top of the jet way peering anxiously through the crowd. When he saw me he always grabbed my bag and then I was once again gathered into that tight bear hug. I would take a deep breath of his aftershave and feel the comfort of finally being home again.
I could write pages and pages of a life time of memories with my grandpa, like the way Grandma and Grandpa visited early every Christmas morning to see what Santa brought. I could talk about how Grandpa was always ready with a jacket for me when I looked cold or that scratchy army blanket when the jacket wasn’t quite enough to warm me up. I could reminisce about how he was always ready with a handkerchief or a package of Smarties at the most opportune times or the moment he caught me making out with my boyfriend in front of his house. I could pen all those trips to the mountains to cut and haul wood in the fall, the sound and smell of grandpa’s saw and the methodical way we all worked as a family to fill the trucks with firewood for the winter. I could write about the time we all went to Las Vegas and I made Grandma and Grandpa walk miles and miles or the time they came to visit me in Atlanta and their favorite part of the trip was the golf cart ride around the pond near our house, or their trip to Tucson to visit me when we were caught up in a very un-Arizona-like torrential rain storm.
My most precious memories are the times I saw tears in his kind strong eyes. They appeared once on the day I got married, another time after I sang in church three summers ago. He grabbed me on my way back to our pew and with tears in his aging eyes told me he loved me. And finally those tears appeared again one night when we were gathered around the campfire. He expressed how much he wished my oldest cousin Tia could be there with us after she had passed away. He loved us and managed to show us, not through words but by his loyalty to our family. Whether we were right or wrong, he was always on our side. He loved my grandma and set an example to all of us about what a lasting relationship should look like. His influence is a constant in my life. He taught me to enjoy the beauty of nature and enjoy the simplicity of Sunday drives and visiting on the front porch. I think of him each time I am tempted to shirk on a job. I remember how he never gave anything but his best. I think of him each time I kneel by my king sized bed to pray. I think about him when I work outside in my yard. He is in my head when I am stacking wood in the backyard and my pile seems a little lopsided. I see him in my Harley Belle’s stubborn determination and blunt sense of humor and I am so thankful she is his name sake.
I love you Grandpa and I sincerely thank you for all you taught me, for raising my amazing mother, and for loving my Grandma with all your heart. You are missed daily.
Thursday, July 7, 2016
We just returned from an amazing vacation/reunion aboard the Disney Dream with the Butler family! All 29 of us went, courtesy of Ma & Pa Butler and it was really an unforgettable experience.
The day before the cruise we met up with cousins at Downtown Disney in Orlando. We saw a movie, enjoyed a boat ride on the lagoon, shopped, and got caught in a torrential downpour. I'm so thankful I re-thought that white t-shirt I was planning to wear.
We all had different boarding times, based on when we checked in online. We got on first, because I'm an eager beaver like that. When you walk on board they introduce your family and I may have gotten a little choked up as the Butler Family was introduced into the Grand Atrium of this beautiful ship.
Nash was a nervous wreck. He has a boat phobia, so we took him straight to the buffet and he hardly worried again. What can I say, the food was unbelievable!
In true Atley form, he immediately found a map and memorized the lay-out of the ship. It is so nice to never have to know where you are, when Atley is around.
After lunch the kids played the Mickey's Detective Agency scavenger hunt game, which we all regret not having more time to play and explore.
The boys learned how to play LIFE while Scott watched some soccer as we waited for the arrival of our cousins and the mandatory evacuation drill. Speaking of the evacuation drill, there are steel doors throughout the ship that can be shut to prevent fire or flooding from spreading. As we were finishing our evacuation drill Scott saw a mysterious switch high on the wall that he just couldn't help but touch. A huge door emerged from the walls separating families and sending people into a panic. I barely grabbed Nash in time to keep him with us. This is such typical Scott behavior. He once pulled a fire alarm at a parking garage in Salt Lake making my mom and aunt run for their lives.
The view from our balcony enabled the kids to see if our luggage was being loaded.
Soon the ships horn played A Dream is a Wish your Heart Makes and the Sail Away party began. It was adorable.
The movement of the boat made me worry I would get sea sick so I immediately took a few too many Dramamine, which made me super sleepy. I was dozing during dinner and fell asleep in the after dinner show which I am certain was awesome. I went back to the cabin to sleep it off, while the rest of the family went to a magic show. I didn't take anymore Dramamine.
The next morning we watched the ship port in Nassau while eating a lovely breakfast in the Royal Palace.
Scott talked me out of making the kids take a historical tour of the city but I wanted them to have a little taste of culture anyway. We compromised on the Straw Market. Harley insisted on getting her hair braided just like a native.
We all enjoyed a fresh chilled coconut, and explored the narrow streets of the city for a couple of hours before getting back on board our floating paradise.
We enjoyed the spectacular views of Atlantis and the Caribbean as we headed back out to sea.
We took family pictures before dinner and enjoyed another five course meal. The service was phenomenal. They catered to every crazy whim our children had and totally took care of their needs while we enjoyed dinner at the adult table each night. The kids also could not get enough of the Oceaneer's Club, where they did everything from cooking, crafts, video games, cartography and much more.
Throughout all the busyness of the first two days the kids also managed lots of time out in the pool and consumed their weight in ice cream each day. They loved riding the Aquaduck around the ship and so did I.
They also couldn't get enough of the chocolate before bed and the strange creatures that were left for them each night.Day 3
Today's breakfast was spent outside on the deck watching our approach to Disney's private island, Castaway Cay. It was adorable!
This is grandma and Atley enjoying a race down the water slides into the ocean at Castaway Cay. It was a photo finish but clearly Atley won, grandma!
One of the highlights of the trip was our snorkeling excursion. We not only got to hand-feed sting rays but we also got to swim and snorkel with them. Harley had no problem snorkeling for the first time. In fact, she was just like a little fish. I had trouble paying any attention to the stingrays, for watching her in the water.
Of course, there was more ice cream on the island!
The kids raced crabs, played with Olaf, posed for pictures, splashed in the ocean, and finally collapsed in exhaustion on the splash pad.
That night was pirate night on the ship. We all changed into our pirate gear and enjoyed an amazing pirate show, dance party and fireworks display on deck.
Did I mention there is also a movie theater on the ship? We watched Finding Dory, The BFG, and Captain America while sailing.
We spent at sea. The kids played in the pool. We watched some fantastic shows and played Disney trivia. The kids enjoyed more time in the Oceaneer's Club and of course, they had more ice cream. Harley visited the Bibbidy Bobbidy Boutique and was transformed into a mermaid. The make-over included face paint. When her fairy god mother asked what she wanted, Harley politely requested stripes, so she would look like a "warrior mermaid". That's my girl. We also did some dancing with the Daisy and Donald!
After having breakfast together, we all went our separate ways. There were some more tears shed in our car as we drove away from Port Canaveral.