Meanwhile back at the ranch ....

Hello, sweetie.....

I AM alive and actually very well! I feel like I have to make this the mega post to get caught up so I will start off with the story behind the title.... Read on my lovelies!

I am a child of the Reading Rainbow generation and one of THE funniest books good ole Lavar ever read was called, "Meanwhile Back At The Ranch." The whole book is a back and forth of two plots, one chaos and the other not. I don't want to give it all away because you should look it up, but that statement has always been a go-to for describing life when it goes from frickin madness to zen.  

And so I fill you in .... 

#1 - NEW JOB! Halllllelllllllujjjjjjaaahhhh! Those of you who follow my Instagram know that the last 6 months have been less that blissful (by a long shot) and I've been trying to hold on to the faith and my soul to find a new job and I DiD IT! I just finished my first week and I am so happy to be there. The new job and resignation from previous job, also meant the ability to take a much needed week off to catch my breath, clean my house, pamper myself and go to Idaho for the 4th of July. What fun I had and I was one pooped lady last Sunday. 

Two Sunday afternoons spent at Snow Basin Resort for their Blues, Brews and BBQ with my lovely friend and her kiddos.....you must GO! Uncle Pete's loaded fries = life changing. 

Rookie gondola ride! 

At the top! Needles! GORG!

This little miss steals my heart!

Photo-bombed by the Needles Express!

I will spare you the before and after that was my disaster hit house. I will be perfectly blunt and honest that the house work is the FIRST to go when I'm stressed. I did my best, but this lady's casa needed some serious love and attention. 

Next up was a night of princess peace and quiet and pampering with a stay at the Alaskan Inn in Ogden Canyon. I am a firm believer in running away to regroup and this Ogden gem is just the place. Jetted tub, princess bed, breakfast IN bed and the best part? Falling asleep to the sound of the Ogden River. PURE heaven. Take your sweets or just yourself and spend the money to have a night there. It's the best thing I've done in a long time. My lovely seester works there so I walked into my room to see this on the table:

She knows me well......

That's not your basic blah French Toast... It's creme brûlée! Yum to the yum to the yum! You can imagine how relaxed I was leaving the Inn. 

Next up was a trip to the 'burg for the 4th to see my bestie and her hooligan husband and the kids. I LOVE going to see them even though I get the usual redhead harrassment from her husband. He knows I'm the bomb.com and that I fight back. 8 years and counting .... This year I decided to go all out with my outfit and it was FUN!!!!!! The skirt was a jackpot find on Facebook and was purchased from The Nest on Main. What a great store! Such amazing service and they even featured me on their page. It's not every day that a curvy lady like me gets featured so it meant a lot. Jewelry was a last minute find at an antique store in Rigby, ID. So so so fun!

This 4th of July was so relaxed and special. We didn't go to an organized community fireworks show, but stayed in the neighborhood. I don't know if I will ever go to a crowded show again after the night we had. This group of humans has become my family and I loved celebrating freedom with them. 

So beyond blessed to have this lady as my sister best friend. We have been through thick and thin and I can not even begin to thank her enough. My Jo.

All-in-all, this week was a week of my favorite things and it put me in a place to face my next career adventure with a smile on my face and a HAPPPPPY heart. 

The moral of the story: Amidst the chaos, there is always a "meanwhile back at the ranch" for all of us and it is called our happy place. Find your happy place and go there often. 

Until next time, my lovelies!

-R

Three words.

I have had serious mental block as of late and it's been challenging trying to decide what to write about for my next post. I read a beautiful update on Facebook this week that was written by an associate who is in the rebirth stage following an extremely painful divorce. It brought tears to my eyes as I read her very raw, poignant reflections of love lost, yet strength gained. And that got me thinking. . . Let's talk about three words.

I LOVE YOU.

For such a short sentence it sure is hard to spit it out at times. I was fortunate enough to grow up in a home where my parents always said, "love you" to close their phone conversations. As a result, it is very natural for me to end phone calls with the same sentiments. However, I am very cautious as to who I hand it out to face to face. For some reason, when it comes out of our mouth it suddenly means something. Like we better damn well mean it. Uh ya!! Then why is it so hard to put down our guard and admit the truth? The f word. ... Not THAT f word... The OTHER one... FEAR. Damn that vixen called fear. A ruthless monster on all accounts. I have had a couple of relationships that I knew we were to the point that I was ready to say it and almost did, but held back. And those three words sat in the back of my throat like a fat brick blocking my voice chakra. I have wondered if it would have gone differently had I said, "wonderful amazing man of mine, I love you. I love your quirks, I love your messy hair, I love your kind heart and I love your crazy heart. Please say you love me back." It's doubtful that it would have turned out differently but it still breaks my heart a little bit. What makes me afraid to be rejected when I know that my love runs deep? When I commit and attach my heart strings to that of another, I am in it. In it for the long haul. But, here's the issue. They are not. Their insecurities and inability to bare their soul is not there. It sucks. Sucks so bad it makes me ill to write of it. But, I must. What can we do to bridge the gap between, "I can't muster up the courage to bear my soul" and "please don't ever go away, I love and adore you more than words can describe." I wish I knew. 

I also want to address the idea that one must birth a human in order to bond with it. I know, switching gears, but for me it is related. The older I get the more likely it is that I will love a man with children. It is also possible that my ability to birth my own children may not happen. I don't know, but all I know is this...a child does NOT have to rent my uterus for 9 months for me to love it like my own. In fact, I welcome the opportunity to be a bonus parent because how cool is that to say to  a child, "guess what you are a lucky one. I am your bonus mom!" Hells ya! I would do it in a heartbeat. The longer I live in Ogden, the more I run into kids who I would scoop up and take home and give them a good life and love them like I had carried them for 9 months. One such girl was in my friend's kindergarten class this year. She was too old to be in kindergarten because her family had "forgot" to take her to school when she was supposed to be in the class. She would regularly come to school in dirty, smelly clothes and talk of sleeping in a car instead of a warm bed. Seriously. This stuff kills me. Why? Why? Why? And when I finally got to meet this sweet girl who I had heard so much about I found a beautiful resilient little girl who, at face value, had NO idea that her life was less than ideal. We MUST remember to offer our heart freely when we feel the urge because we never know the power that it will bring to another human. Especially kids. They can't help it that they were conceived in a dumpy situation so we must be aware and allow the love to flow. 

The last point on love that I want to address is probably that which is the most difficult to accept. Love for ourself. Holy hell, why are we our toughest critic? Why must we be the enemy to the face in the mirror? I know of a handful of situations right now where the depression runs deep and the voice in the head of these people is burning their insides one disparaging comment at a time. From my own personal experience I can attest that one of the most fearful times in my life is when I actually heard my inner-self say these things and I couldn't fight back because I believed it. It has taken a lot of work and a lot of prayer to get to a point where I trusted my inner-self so I didn't have to rely on the outer influence to determine my worth. I am NOT defined by my body shape, my boobs size, my family size, the year of my car, the color of my skin, my marital status or how long I've been in a career. I am defined and driven by my relationship with God and my soul. And I mean that. And just because I said it doesn't mean I'm perfect or it's because of this or that. I have to dig deep. REALLY deep. I am sad a lot that I haven't had my babies yet and I'm losing sleep because of politics, not teething and runny noses. But, I know that the love that I feel for those around me is REAL and GENUINE and that I will and am blessed for my goodness.

So.... The moral of the story.... He's out there. He will attach and I will let him.

Until next time my lovelies.

-R

Thrifting, Genetics and Pinwheels

In true "game of threes" fashion, I am happy to share the story behind this outfit. However, it is safe to say that these 3 randoms are actually very much connected. Read on, my lovelies for an installment of fashion feature a la Monday. 

First and foremost, with the exception of the accessories, this outfit is thrifted from top to bottom. AND it all came from the same Deseret Industries on the SAME day!!! It was a glorious day. On Mother's Day weekend I told myself I would have a completely selfish weekend because I was burnt out and needed some me time. So I had what I deemed a "freedom adventure" weekend. Day 1 was spent thrifting. The MuuMuu turned awesome outfit was from that day too! Like I said it was glorious. One thing that is always completely ridiculous, frustrating and funny at the same time is how genetics get in the way of outfits looking like they're supposed to. You're probably thinking, "duh, nothing EVER looks like it does on the model." My biggest body issue is called long torso. Well long torso, broad shoulders and "ladies" that just make it difficult to find tops that work. And so I usually spend a good portion of my dressing room time rolling my eyes and saying, "oh what a lovely tunic that has a tag that says it's a dress." This outfit was just such an occasion and I had purchased another top in the last couple of weeks that was CLEARLY a dress and on me it's a tunic. Super. How do I make it work? I create a two-piece outfit look. Generally, the best way to make this happen and look good is with a straight skirt on the bottom. And with this outfit I made sure to include a belt so that I accentuated the smallish waist line and drew the eye to the curves and not the imperfections. 

Along with being a completely gorgeous and sunshiney day, today is Memorial Day here in America. Memorial Day is a day for us to remember our loved ones who have passed on as well as the men and women who have fought for the freedoms of America. This spring my mom told me that my great-great grandma, Maud Ellen, was buried in the Ogden Cemetary. This is a significant bit of information because this woman is my hair sake. I am the ONLY one on both sides of my immediate family who has the exact color of my hair. As a child it bugged me when people asked me where it came from or the side of the family. Then one day my great-grandma said to me, "your hair reminds me of my mother. Her hair was that exact color and I love it." It made my day/life and I've always felt a serious devotion to this woman. I make a lot of trips to the cemetery now just to feel the peace and connection with this woman. There have been tears but there have also been some really spiritual experiences between a girl and her grandma. From feisty redhead to feisty redhead. And the genetics that I referenced above come from this woman's side of the genetic line. BONUS! Or something like that. It was truly an honor to make the trip to the cemetary after church yesterday and see flowers already at her and my grandpa's grave (meaning other family members had been there) and to leave my signature memoral item: a pinwheel. I hate fake flowers and real flowers die so I leave a pinwheel. And somehow the beauty of a pinwheel as it is hit with a bit of wind is symbolic of life and of death and of the process of grieving. And so it is. My game of threes which are oh so related. 

The moral of the story: we are blessed beyond measure to have generations that came before us with the will and drive and super genetics to make our life possible. 

Until next time, my lovelies! 

-R

Put on Your Service Shoes & GO!!!

Fashion Feature - Sanuks

It’s been a mentally taxing week in my world which is why the blog has been a bit quiet.  If you read my previous post you know that I was out of town last weekend for a family event and I’m always a bit of a zombie when I get home from travelling.  Laundry-sort of done, sort of not folded, kitchen – sort of mopped, dishes sort of not loaded in the dishwasher, floors – sort of vacuumed, but sort of not.  You get the picture.  But, I’ve had more important things on my mind.  Service and the Friday fashion feature go hand-in-hand this week. 

Last week, my dear friend had the gut and heart wrenching reality of a child who attempted to end her own life.  This family has become some of my dearest friends since moving to the ‘hood and this particular child has been one whom I have loved from the beginning.  I LOVE LOVE LOVE all of them, but for some reason she is just fabulous.  But she definitely has her struggles.  It is so hard to witness because I do get it, from all sides, on a very small scale.  As I was driving out of the state last Friday, I received a message that the decision was made to admit her to an in-patient scenario due to the severity of the situation.  I have an extremely empathetic heart and I feel pain for other people regularly.  It can really get the best of me and I have to keep it in check, but it is how I’m programmed.  I thought about my friend’s family all weekend and prayed that all would be well when I returned to Utah.  When I rolled into town on Sunday evening, there weren’t a lot of answers and everything was VERY uneasy.  At minimum her stay would be 5 days which would put her coming home on Wednesday.  Monday afternoon I was sitting in my office trying to decide what to do next (mostly busy work) and I took a peek at my Facebook for a minute.  My friend had posted that she needed help with something she couldn’t do.  I sent her a message and this was her reply, “I need to clean her room so that it isn’t harmful in any way when she gets home and I just can’t bring myself to do it.”  Pit in my stomach.  BIG PIT.  Breathe in, breathe out.  I dropped what I was doing, left work early and sent a message that I was on my way with dinner for the other kidlets.  My friends are my family and this was absolutely necessary.  That night was one of the most humbling experiences I’ve had in a really long time.  It was one of those moments when you have to say a LOT of prayers just to get in the car.

So…. Here’s the FASHION part….I put on my big girl panties and my services shoes….my trusty Sanuks.

Last year I was introduced to Sanuks at the Ogden Marathon.  I purchased a pair of flip flops from a local vendor and I could not stop wearing them.  HELLO, comfortable.  When I pulled up their name on Amazon I soon found that they had all sorts of styles and I needed some more!!  I found a polka dotted pair (WINNING) that looked more like hippie, surfer shoes, but they were on sale so I couldn’t help it.  That’s my answer for a lot of things.  *DISCLAIMER -- bad idea* 

According to Sanuk’s website, “we strive to make products that are as much about fun and funk as they are about function. We've found that our feet are happiest when they tread the road less traveled- so we design our sandals accordingly! Because “Sanuk” is the Thai word for fun and happiness, our name is also our mantra.” (www.sanuk.com)

Well, there ya go!  Fun, funk and function.  Those are three things that are almost always and should be involved when service is on the agenda.  Volunteering our time is always a big sacrifice, but also donating our heart and energy to a cause that is probably less-fortunate that our own is taxing too.  But, we know that with a good pair of shoes we can accomplish ANYTHING!  In the last 2 months I’ve had the opportunity to wear my Sanuks for a number of different service events and it just makes me happy!  My tootsies are comfy so I can serve more.  Bonus!

I will add that as of blog composition (Thursday-ish), my friend’s daughter is still in the hospital and life is still very uneasy, but they are coping and conquering every day one-at-a-time.  Life is hard.  Life is a cluster of a few too many “what the hell" moments, but it is also FULL of sunshine and opportunities to serve others.

The moral of the story:  We can do ANYTHING, bring sunshine to others during our own storms and hippie surfer shoes, with a funny name, have superpowers at my house.

Until next time, my lovelies!
-R

Happy Auntiversary!

I recently celebrated my 5 year auntiversary. It's hard to believe that it's been that long since I laid eyes on the little person who would change my heart forever. 

I'm the oldest of four and when my brother got married and I was still single, it was hard. It's a lot of pressure to be the oldest sib who is single in a culture that is centered around family and babies. 

The year neph #1 was born was probably one of the toughest in my career. Well, the first of a few. I was laid off from my job and had spent 3 grueling months looking for something new. However, because I was unemployed, I had the ability to go and stay with my brother and SIL for a week. Those days are some of my most treasured. We arrived at their house quite late and it just happened to be feeding time. My brother brought me that little red butterball and when I looked at him for the first time it was love at first sight. I am so blessed to be the aunt of three little people who are just fabulous. We have great fun and their little personalities crack me up. And it's fun to see my brother interact with his kids. And I'm not going to lie, I giggle to myself when they do something "naughty" that they totally get from him. He'll have his chance for that when I'm a mother, but in the meantime, I just sit back and laugh inside. My SIL is such a good mom and amazes me with the fun parties she throws for them. 

And when it's all said I done, I MELT when handwritten thank you notes land in my mail box. Kiddos being raised very well. 

I hope that we can all appreciate those sweet simple moments when sloppy kisses are better than anything and can carry us through the tough days. 

Until next time, lovelies!

-R

The truth is ....

This weekend my lovely sister and best friend graduated from college with her Associate's degree. It doesn't seem possible that my L cakes is grown up into a truly lovely and delightfully quirky woman. I mean seriously, she is just gorgeous!  There is a 13 year age difference between us so she was itty bitty and toddling when I was in high school. She was also learning to talk. One of the FUNNIEST games she would play was the game of threes. We would drive home from church and she would say stuff like, "trees, trucks and bananas." Oh ok! When a two year old is saying it, it is super cute. We loved encouraging her as older sibs would and at times it would bug our mom. (Even better). So in honor of my newly educated random sis, I present mine. Tulips, trains and naked feet. 

TULIPS: I love tulips. Like a lot. They are a sign of winter being over and when they finally make their debut it means we are almost done with dreary lameass winter. They are an interesting creature too. They are a bulb flower and have to be planted by October. If they aren't in the ground before snow hits then it isn't going to work. They have to sit there and they can withstand it allllllllll winter long. The other funny thing is how finicky they are about weather. First sign of frost and good bye. But I guess they can be that way after being cooped up in the dirt all winter. And the last funny thing is they keep growing even after they are cut. And a LOT! I've bought tulips for myself over the years and they literally go completely crazy with growth within a few days. I guess you could say I relate to them. But then that makes me sound crazy because I relate to flowers and maybe talk to a wooden spoon in my spare time. Anyway.... 

TRAINS: No I am not the female version of Sheldon Cooper from the CBS hit series, "The Big Bang Theory." I grew up in a town that was along the Burlington Northern train route in Southeastern Montana. We heard the train going through town at ALL hours of the night and day. It is truly a sound of home. I will never forget the first night away at college in Virginia when my mom and I sat on the porch and heard the train. I looked at her and said, "now I will be ok." So it only makes sense that I've landed in the town of trains as my home sweet home. Ogden is a railroad town to the core and still has a very thriving and functioning rail system. And I LOVE it. And my favorite place to be in Ogden is the gorgeous Union Station building. It is JUST magical. I can stand in the main lobby and imagine the history that has taken place. In the early days of Ogden you couldn't get anywhere via rail without passing through Ogden. Last week I had lunch at the restaurant located in Union Station called Union Grill. Before I left I snapped some photos. And they were the kind that I basically was standing on my head to get a cool edgy angle and then it happened. Magic. Just plain magic. And tulips. Hot. Pink. Tulips. 

I am also pleased to report that I was featured by two different Instagram feeds for my photos of Union Station that day. So thank you very much @wowutah and @ogdenonly for in a roundabout way recognizing a girl's love for trains and this incredible community landmark.

NAKED FEET: I hate socks. And I love showing off my cute tootsies. And I hate laundry. That is all. The end. 

The moral of the story: we can relate to anything and be random and still find such sentimental value in things like trains to keep a piece of home alive in our heart. Annnnd life is always always always better in flip flops. Always.

Until next time my lovelies. 

-R

Once upon a time ....

Once upon a time far FAR far Far away there was a land and its name started with the letter “t” and ended with herapy.  Just outside the land of herapy there was a girl named Raylynn and she decided that before she could move out of her cardboard box called f-ed up and miserable into a glorious beachside mansion of peace and happiness she needed to go see the queen of herapy whose name was Jenn.  And then their journey began.  Raylynn, her big pink journal with colored pens tucked inside, and Jenn with her blank pieces of white paper, blue ink pen and a clipboard.  

When I made the decision to go to visit Jenn, I was a MESS.  M to the E to the S to the SSSSS.  To protect all parties concerned and to keep the muck tucked away in history (right where it belongs), I’m not going to detail the WHY I went because it actually became a secondary reason by the time I was done.  

There is a four-letter word out there that is very misunderstood and misused.  It is the word COPE.  I couldn’t cope.  I couldn’t cope with my family, I couldn’t cope with being a grown-up, I couldn’t cope with a boy and I couldn’t cope with my emotions being all over the place and in time bomb status all the damn time.  And it was pretty well-known to my inner self that there was some bottled up toxic sludge that needed to be addressed.  Talk about super awesome when you walk into a complete stranger’s office and look them straight in the eye and say, “um ya, I’m jacked up.  Can you help me?”  And then she looks at you and says, “I can help you, but it’s going to take a LOT of work on your part too.”  

There is another misconception about “therapy” that if you GO, you will be FIXED by GOING.  WRONG.  WRONG.  WRONG.  It takes work from both parties and the most work is going to come from the person looking at you in the mirror; yourself.  And that work will continue into the rest of your life after therapy.  Yes, you need to communicate with the sources of struggle, but it may be that you can’t and all you can fix is yourself. 

I am going to highlight the Top 5 things I learned while in therapy that I think everyone can do and benefit from.

1. Journal, Journal, Journal.  On visit 2 I was equipped and armed with a very fat journal and colored pens so that I could write it out.  And she told me to write my story.  Write out every character and their role and their demise and how they were affecting me and what I needed to do to deal with them better.  She said, write it like a story, because it is a story…it is your story.  A bit of a dicey, swearword-laden bitter diatribe was more like it, but nonetheless, it was my story.  AND, the genius thing about journaling is once something is written on paper it is transferred from the emotional side of the brain to the analytical side.  A purge in every sense of the word.  

2. Exercise.  There is ABSOLUTELY no way I would have made it through therapy without my gym membership.  I would wake up every morning very angry about the reality of peeling back my rotten onion and I wasn’t sleeping that great anyway.  So, I would roll out of bed and head to the gym for at least 30 minutes.  That’s all I could give.  And I did.  Every.single.day.  

3. Find your reporting angel.  Therapy is desperately difficult because you’re bearing your soul to a stranger but you’re still trying to process and heal.  So, find that person you can confide in and that will not judge you as you go through this angry healing ordeal.  My angel is named Melanie.  God bless that amazing friend of mine.  I adore her because she listened and didn’t ever judge me on how screwed up I was and the choices I was making with some situations in my life because my coping skills were basically shot.  She and I still talk almost daily and I know that I always have her to remind me that I have made HUGE strides since those horrible days and that I can make it through anything because I have those skills to cope.  

4. Have a reward ritual after the therapy session.  Can we all say cheese fries and Sonic Diet Cherry Limeade?  Nom nom nom!!!  That was my reward ritual.  I would go to therapy after work so it would be late when I was done and I would usually cry on my drive home and I knew that once I had those cheese fries and a Sonic Diet Cherry Limeade that I was going home and going to bed.  And it was code for my friends that if it was a “non-therapy day” and I was in trouble I could text them and say, “it’s been a cheese fries day” and they were on my doorstep and we were headed to the Training Table for cheese fries and a vent session.  

5. Let yourself be mad for 24 hours.  I usually would have a detox day after therapy and it generally wasn’t a very good day.  If you ask a cancer patient they will most likely tell you that the days after chemo treatment SUCK.  You’re sick and tired and have the looming reality of it not working and on and on and on.  Therapy really is mental chemotherapy and those days after are tough.  But, they are not impossible.  And after 24 hours it’s time to get to work and focus on the next weeks tasks that your therapist has set.  

I will remind you, if you’ve made it this far in the post, that if your opinion about therapy is if you GO, you will be FIXED by GOING then you are WRONG.  WRONG.  WRONG.  It takes work from both parties and the most work is going to come from the person looking at you in the mirror; yourself.  I am not cured.  I am not a genius at coping.  2013 presented some huge setbacks for me and I had to really work through them, but that is the POINT.  I had the tools to do it and I did.  And 2014 has been a flying cluster year of curve balls too.

The moral of the story:  Life is not easy.  And if you feel like you live in a cardboard box just outside the land of herapy, then find your Jenn.  Because living in a mansion of peace and happiness (by the imaginary beach with a yummy drink with an umbrella in it) is far better.  And so rewarding.  

Until next time, my lovelies.  

-R  

Timing

Do you ever feel like your biggest battle in life is with time? I know I do. I think as women we are inherently wired to be clock watchers and time keepers. Sleep schedules, feeding time, body clocks, work schedules, church schedules, that time of the month or how far away it is or isn't. I know that God is in my details and in all our details but sometimes I just wish I could stop time in those good euphoric moments and break out my magic wand in those "what the hell just happened" moments.  Enjoying the simple moments is what it's all about because there are way more of those than anything else and that's what I/we need to hold on to for dear life.

Those are words I wrote a couple months ago along with the above picture on my Instagram. I have had a seriously rough year professionally but have been quite blessed personally. That is a TOUGH situation to be in because I am a one-lady show and if the fundage isn't there I don't survive. I have to dig deep every single day to stay motivated and full of faith to show up. I hate it. I want to be successful according to their terms so I can continue my happy life in the 'hood. I have no clue where God will put me next but I will bloom where I am planted. I hate timing. Hate. Hate. Hate. Because if I had my way I would be in a tshirt and jeans with my rockin messy bun and loving on kids with too much homework and messy faces. But that's not my mission just yet. We all have a purpose, we all have a chapter..

The moral of the story: God is in the details. And I've got to trust it will all be ok. Damn it. That's too hard some days. 

Until next time, my lovelies.

-R