::Guest Blogger Awesomeness:: Indie Ogden Utah - Marketing Made Simple.

Hello, my lovelies!  It's been a crazy month in the Land of Ray.  In the midst of it all, I was asked to guest blog on a couple of Ogden blogs.  The first post went live a couple of weeks ago on Indie Ogden Utah.  It's entitled "Marketing Made Simple" and I gave 5 simple tips for local business owners on how to keep it simple, but stay engaged with clients.  Take a peek!  The link to that post is ------- HERE!

Next up is a guest post with the fabulous blog The Potter's Place.  Stay tuned!!

The moral of the story:  Opportunity knocks, even amidst the storms of life.  

Until next time, my lovelies!

-R

Beauty Amidst Trial.

Life has a way of throwing us a curve ball when we least expect it.  I've been saying lemons to lemonade to myself all month and it actually turned to lemons to Mike's Hard Lemonade (according to my darling friend Mel) as of last Wednesday....figuratively, of course, but man I've definitely been tempted to jump off the wagon and drink on my balcony in my bathrobe and nana slippers.  As I've been coping from my life being turned upside down when it was on the up and up, I've been thinking about how I can create beauty amidst trial and a whole lotta of anger and sadness.  You may have seen the graphic that I posted on my Instagram that showed the feet of a ballet dancer who had her point shoe on one foot and off on the other and and her foot is a bloody, curled up, taped up, mangled mess.  The quote that goes along with it is about success and how some don't realize how much work it really is to be successful.  That got me thinking.  Then I found the stock photo above as I was preparing for some super awesome guest blog posts (BONUS!) and I decided to create my own version of the graphic with my own words.  And let's be honest, who doesn't LOVE when the musings avec Ray get super deep.  Come along on my twisted perspective that will have you thinking more about this photo than you ever expected.....

When I was little I was fascinated with ballet.  I loved checking out books at the library about prima ballerinas and looking at the pictures of their beautiful costumes and those hunky men who lifted them in the air and helped them fly to the music.  Given my genetic blessings I wasn't ever cut out for ballet and I've always said, "in my next life, I will be a prima ballerina and still eat pizza and chocolate."  Now that I'm an adult and live in a state FULL of insanely talented artists, I enjoy attending productions by the Salt Lake Ballet Company, Ballet West, with my dear friend, Luci.  I'm mesmerized by the amount of core support that these dancers have to have in order to perform day in and day out.  Luci and I always sit in the balcony so that I can see the mechanics of the dances.  I love the motion and the teamwork of the choreography.  And of course I love the costumes.  Luci not only encourages it, but she has taught me a boatload about ballet (that has a ring to it) because she herself is a retired ballerina.  She danced through her second year of college and has shared all sorts of hilarious stories with me of see-though leotards and other silly things as well as some of the challenges she had as a dancer with her self image.  In addition to Luci, I also have an incredible friend named Elisabeth who also danced ballet. Elisabeth is now a trained mental health professional and I felt like it was time to have these two women share their musings on the good, the bad and the learned from being a trained ballet dancer.  I think that you will find that it was MUCH more about core strength of the heart and soul more than the ab and calf muscles at times.....I will let their words tell you, not mine.  This will be a longer post than usual because I want you to read ALL their words so please carry on....

Elisabeth:

"The role of ballet training in my development was significant on so many levels. I was not pushed into this world - in fact, I wonder whether my parents would have preferred I choose a different path, one that might have come more naturally to me. While ballet technique hardly comes easily to anyone, I was anything but a natural when it came to technique. What I did have was a passion for performing. I loved being on stage. It was pure magic and stage presence did come easily to me. This presented me with quite a challenge. I was addicted to performing. I didn't believe I could live a fulfilling life without the chance to be on stage from time to time. What that meant was that there were many hours spent trying to work with the limitations of my body. It often didn't cooperate, but there was something about the familiarity of the routine and the structure that suited my personality. I worked hard. Working hard at things that don't come naturally - that you may never be as good at as the girl across the studio - builds character. At some point you realize that this is something you wouldn't choose to live without - frustrations, self-doubts, and all. Like so many things in life - relationships, careers, your very identity - with maturity you learn to embrace the good with the bad. I frequently encourage my patients to embrace this paradox - doing so can be incredibly liberating. I do not mean to suggest that the pain isn't very real. But in hindsight I have come to realize what a gift it is to experience that kind of passion, to live so fully. Some people never seem to have that all-consuming experience - and I am grateful to have had it, pain and all.

This is undoubtedly a gross over generalization, but ballet dancers are a unique breed. Typical characteristics that in many other contexts would be associated with good health outcomes: determination, self-discipline, passion can actually work against dancers as they manipulate their minds and bodies to reach an impossibly narrow definition of success.  My experience as a ballet student was influenced by this paradox. On one hand, dance was one of the most defining elements that shaped my identity during childhood and adolescence. My years of dance training were fulfilling and meaningful and it gave me a focus that still, to this day, I appreciate having developed at such a young age. However, I felt a tremendous sense of shame and unworthiness because my body didn’t meet the aesthetic ideals. The tension between being so passionate about my pursuits and not meeting the aesthetic standards was pronounced. Looking back, I recognize that my experience was made up of equal parts inspiration and intense self-criticism. I know this dynamic was not unique to my experience. In fact, this reality seems to reflect a fundamental underlying issue for most dancers: the tension between their dedication and determination, and the self-criticism and loathing that develops if they do not fit the mold or fall short of the lofty ideals of the discipline.

15 years after taking my last ballet class, there are many things I do not miss. I am grateful that I no longer have to subject myself to my reflection in the mirror while wearing those unforgiving pink tights. I love the fact that I now can appreciate my body for all it can do - including bearing twins, and remaining healthy despite the fact that all too often I neglect it. I don't miss feeling as though I didn't measure up as I stood in that line of dancers. But every once in a while, as I sit across from a patient, I revel in the fact that I am now doing something that I can truly believe I am good at, without self -doubt. And then there are those moments when I am teaching or giving a presentation that I feel that same rush that I did when I was on stage. I may have traded in the ballet bun, but I now appreciate what it feels like to let my hair down, to be me, to have a kind of self-confidence that can only be born of staring self-doubt squarely in the face and surviving. Thriving, even."

Isn't she amazing!!????  Her brain thinks a lot like mine does (no surprise since she's an awesome therapist and my life changed with my awesome therapist) and when she sent this to me I got all sorts of choked up and teary as I read it on my phone.  How can we apply this to our own life?  The good with the bad, the blessed with the cursed?  We are so freaking critical of ourselves, but there is a very fine line between letting ourselves be sad and laying down on the ground and being trampled on by the reality and negativity that could take over versus giving ourselves a good swift pep talk that includes a bit of strong words to "move on and let that shit GO."  

I continually struggle with the media battle that rages on towards women and the expectation to be submissive, skinny and stupid.  Ya, not any of those things and I'm damn proud of it.  But, it doesn't make my life easy, in fact it has caused a substantial amount of turmoil in the last 7 days.  But, the ability to dig DEEP and look at myself in the mirror and say "something better WILL come" is carrying me through.  That is my core strength right now.  That is what's keeping me upright and not a sloppy puddle on the floor.  That's what gets me through the day, even when I do shed some tears of frustration or roll my eyes that I am in fact a housewife with no husband or kids and my house somehow looks like a tornado rolled through ten times.  Tangent alert!  We don't need to hear about my lack of housekeeping skills .... or lack of motivation to USE my housekeeping skills.....

Now let's hear from my dearest Luci friend about her struggles & triumphs in ballet world and how it molded her life:

Luci:

"What I learned most from ballet is that life isn't fair sometimes.  Going to performance auditions prepares you for interviews later on in life.  You can go as prepared as you possibly can and still not be the best person for the part according to the casting director.  When I was younger my body image didn't really bother me, but when I was dancing in college I really felt the pressure to portray a certain look.  Still to this day it is a challenge to get out of my own brain and accept how I look and that I don't have to be thin to be worth something.  In dancing you put on a full costume and makeup and you dance behind it.  Now as an adult I've embraced my natural beauty and I know that I don't have to hide behind anything to be myself."

And this is why I am SO grateful to have Luci as one of my very dearest friends.  She and I have BOTH embraced our inner beauty in different ways and I too have morphed in to a woman who rarely wears a full face of make-up because I can see and feel my beauty without hiding behind the make-up.  Don't get me wrong, I love wearing make-up, but I can go to the grocery store without it on and not be mortified if someone sees me without it.  My cute daddy always told his daughters, "if I don't recognize you without your make-up, you're wearing too much."  I sure love that man.  He's totally right.  In the next conversation though he'd also say, "even an old barn looks good with a fresh coat of paint."  Ha ha ha, ok Dad.....thanks?  But, you get my point.  Accentuate the positive, but don't hide your beauty.  And when you need to cry because you feel like you're going to lose your shit, do it.  Cry, be angry, take a nap and then look at your beautiful self in the mirror and say, "this too shall pass, you are worth the wait and you will be ok....now go dance amidst your trial and be your own kind of beautiful."

The moral of the story:  Keep working on your inner core, hold your head high when life gets hard and dance even when it hurts.  

Until next time, my lovelies.  
-R

Red in the 'Hood.

Once upon a time a sassy redhead took a chance on a town with a rep and it turned out to be the best decision she ever made.  Why you ask?  Well...read on and find out why I love this town. 

• Ogden is FULL of passion and quirk all wrapped up in one.  I mean, what town has a street that is known as two bit street, but also has lamp posts decorated with crocheted creatures and the luckiest pizza you'll ever eat?

• Ogden is a town where you really can buy local for everything and it won't break the budget.  In addition to being super cool, you are healthier and happier.  I'm proof, are you?  

• Ogden is a virtual photo bomb of the very best kind.  It is rare that you snap a photo without a super cool background....or a rad bike rack that is tagged with local businesses' stickers....did we mention how much we love those peeps at Lucky Slice?  

• Ogden is a place that an instagram account and a purpose can change the world.  Have you seen Indie Ogden, Outside in Ogden or This Is Ogden?  Look them up!  They rock the block and have me falling in love with Ogden over and over again.  

• Ogden is known for it's killer recreation, but also it's killer non-profit organizations.  It's been said that other cities come to us to figure out why our snow really IS the best snow, but they also come to check out our non-profits organizations that run better than some of our for-profit businesses.  

Although I've only given 5 reasons why I love this town, it is safe to say that the list keeps growing day by day.  When I walked in the ballroom at Ben Lomond Hotel for the Ogden Area Influencers Summit, I knew it would be awesome, but I didn't know HOW awesome.  Hands down, it is the best 4 hours I've spent in my professional life ever at a networking event of its kind.  You may think I'm exaggerating, but I'm not.  kBent Media made sure that every single detail was covered and we were inspired, engaged and encouraged to open our mouth and network with new people.  I left the building on a happy high like no other.  And let's not forget to talk about the killer swag bag.  I'm still giddy about it and my trusty "Love This Town" tote is being put to good use as my new yoga bag.  I thoroughly look forward to enjoying my first paint party at Pandemonium, and a 10% discount at Color Me Mine and some yummy goodness at Roosters.  

The moral of the story:  Don't believe everything you hear about living in this 'hood called Ogden until you come here and experience 25th Street at dusk with the bright neon lights of Union Station as one view and the gorgeous mountains as your other view.  It doesn't get much better than that.  

Until next time, my lovelies!

-R

One Person.



I've spent a lot of time on the road lately for le day job and that always offers ample time for deep thoughts avec Ray.  It also means that I have to keep my attention held because I drive myself crazy if I'm in the car longer than an hour.  A couple of weeks ago I drove by a billboard on the freeway that touched my heart.  It was one of the popular "Pass It On" ad campaign billboards and it had a picture of Nelson Mandela and quoted him as saying, "what can one person do?"  Talk about an ah ha moment for me and I haven't been able to get it off my mind since.

As humans we are programmed to be needed and to help others.  We have beating hearts and generally, we use that to better the world around us.  But, it breaks my heart when I hear someone say, "I don't know what I can do, but I would love to help."  Talk about downgrading your worth in one short sentence.  We ALL have character traits that can help just about anyone or anything.  I had this shown to me personally in so many small ways, in the days after my granddad passed away.  Very little things that I could NOT muster to do for myself were done by others.  It could have seemed remedial to them, but it was extremely important to me and it helped me get through some tough days of deep grieving. 

Today I posted on my personal Facebook page about the gratitude I feel for the small blessings in my life that make a big difference.  I mean that too!  Last week I posted about the Ogden Area Influencers Summit that I was preparing to attend last Friday.  It was an incredible event.  I left on a happy high like I have never experienced after a business function before....and believe me....I've been to a few in my 11 year career.  I'm going to write more about that event later this week, but those 4 hours and $15 spent on my entrance fee was seriously some of the most beneficial time I've ever spent.  One lovely lady and her passion for Ogden made such an impact on my heart and for that I am so deeply grateful.  Never mind the impact it made on my professional goals too, but my emotional health was far greater the benefactor than the financial bottom line. 

The other element of my life that seems so small to many, but has such an impact, is the practice of writing handwritten thank you notes.  I've talked about this in the past through my personal initiative of #happymailfromthehood, but I am specifically talking about thank you notes in the work place.  My darling friend Mel is the QUEEN BEE OF THANK YOU NOTES and I took her fine example and implemented it with my new job.  Not only does it make people's day when they receive something in the mail that isn't crap, but it forces me to sit down and express gratitude for every little thing that makes my job just a wee bit easier.  I need those reminders often.  Often.  Often. 

I've been journaling a lot at night before I go to bed because my brain is in stress mode regarding work and my personal life.  I've definitely seen the positive effects of forcing myself to find quotes that uplift and empower me.  It's not easy being on your A-game day in and day out for a career and I'm generally VERY exhausted when I get home at night.  Thus, the laundry continues to pile up (big surprise) and the dishwasher is loaded when I feel like it.  Last night my journaling included some quotes written all froo froo with some new metallic pens I scored at Target (oh the simple joys of adulthood).  The first quote penned by Ralph Waldo Emerson was, "Write it on your heart that every day is the best day of the year."  The second was from our good buddy William Shakespeare and he said, "Though she was but little, she is fierce."  Sigh.  This lady needed those simple words.  Every day IS the best day of the year and even though I feel little in the grand scheme of things, I AM fierce.  I love deeply and I really care about the little things of life that make up the big picture. 

The moral of the story:  One person can make a huge impact on many by one simple gesture of love and gratitude. 

Until next time, my lovelies!
-R

I Heart Ogden.

Looking forward to attending this event on Friday. I was asked to put together a pre-event post about how I got to Ogden. 

In the simplest of terms I am a transplant. I am a transplant to Utah since 2006. But, it wasn't until I moved to Ogden that I felt like I could actually call Utah my home.

For the first six years I lived in Salt Lake County and didn't enjoy it. It was an ok place to live but I didn't feel like I could call it home. There was no homesickness when I would vacation. I remember a number of people voiced great concern when I accepted a new job in Ogden in 2012. Their perception was it was ghetto and unsafe. However, I had visited here a number of times and really enjoyed it so I decided to give it a chance. I have not regretted moving here for one day. It is a cultural, passionate and giving community and the view is just as awesome. I have experienced more arts and cultural events here in two years than I did in six in Salt Lake and much of that is because of the great marketing and social media presence that local organizations and businesses have. I have also grown to love and appreciate the outdoors even more and might even give skiing a shot one of these days. It wasn't until I moved to Ogden that I gained a sense of urgency to buy local and support the businesses that were the backbone of our community. I am always encouraging my friends and family to come visit and they fall in love with our quirky railroad town as soon as they stroll down 25th Street and have a Bianca pie at Lucky Slice or some lavender lemonade at Rovalli's or Kym's famous and super duper delicious bread pudding at Roosters or Union Grill.

The moral of the story: I heart the 'hood and I never want to leave.

Until next time, my lovelies!

-R

Embrace It.

Well, this week was a LOT of facing reality and dealing with it.  Amidst the MANY hours on the road driving solo, the hours laying awake past 2 am and the hours of funeralling and reminiscing about my dearest Granddad this weekend, I learned a lot about myself.  Whoa.  I mean, holy run-on sentence, but it is true.  I find it NO coincidence that the last fashion feature this month is centered around my absolute favorite outfit from the winter photo shoot and my favorite words: embrace imperfection.  

When I planned the outfits for this shoot with Kel-Z Photography, I wanted it to be a whole hella bunch of color.  I also wanted to show my random fashion sense.  It's a pretty regular occurance that I have people stop me and say, "I love your outfit...only you could get away with that combo."  Um, thanks?  But, then I thank them and say, well, it just kind of happens.  To be quite honest....sometimes...ok ALL the damn time....it is on the third or fourth outfit combo and my bed is piled high with vetoed outfits and I'm running late so I just go with it and chalk it up to my "quirky fashion sense."  There's a tip of the crazy for you.  

Before we get to deep thought avec Ray I will give you the outfit details....Here you go!

• Scarf: Utah State bookstore (random, don't ask questions)
• Gray top: Chic Style Utah
• Mint Green pants which are actually capris (gasp!): Macy*s
• Super rad carpet bag: Just Be Purses
• Bracelet: local vender at the Ogden Harvest Moon Festival (aka that one night I discovered those cute beardy boys in VanLadyLove)

When we speak of imperfection, how many of us shudder and start to list the LONG list (in our minds) of our shortcomings?  Ooh Ooh, pick me, pick me...the emotional, overanalyzing, blunt girl in the back row with a Diet Coke in her hand, please.  We ALL do it and we should ALL STOP it.  But, I know as well as the next person, that it is a task that is easier said than done.  We are constantly bombarded in the media to be skinnier, richer, nicer, bitchier (you know it's true), greener and the list goes on and on.  How many times do we just stop and think, "I am frickin awesome and hella broken, but it is OK." 

I got a good solid dose of that this week as I embarked on my least favorite mental land, other than full-on depression, and that is mourning world.  It sucks.  Like f-bomb sucks.  It is a mental state that offers very little control and basically you just let it ride its course, hold on and have a boat load of patience with yourself.  The whole week my grandma kept saying, "we all mourn differently, it's ok."  That is an understatement.  I found that my list of imperfections rose to the top of the list on a sea of my never-ending tears.  I was more unfiltered that usual and I knew it and I only used it to my advantage with one person and he was LONG overdue for the unleashing that occurred.  I figured if I was going to be crying already then why the hell not add something else to the list. 

In all seriousness, our imperfections are what test us the most.  I could wax eloquent in the religious department, but I will just say this....we are only given as much trial as God knows we can handle.  Period!  But, the kicker is we don't get to PICK when it's officially too hard...He does.  Talk about wishing we could veto THAT rule.  But, it's true.  I've had a couple of experiences in my life (depression not being one of them ... exception to this comment) when I was at my utter wits end and I had a pretty pointed and relatively angry prayer with God and within a few days there was some resolution.  But that is RARE.  Don't expect God to have a magic wand and wave it.  Allow for His timing and go with the flow.  And now I will go get my handheld mirror and say that out loud to myself three times. 

I think the greatest blessing in admitting our imperfections is being able to see how every single human being in our life is supposed to be there to fill in the gaps.  Our gaps of imperfection are mended and filled by our friends, family, lovers, children, grandparents, etc.  And thank goodness!  I would be a sloppy, crying lost cause if I didn't have those people who stepped up this last week and recognized that I was going completely bat shit crazy while mourning and invited me over for dinner or took me out to dinner or sent me a non-dying sympathy plant or wore a pair of shoes to a concert I was hoping to be at, but got booked for a funeral instead.  Life happened, I cried my guts out, but I was damn grateful that it happened because it made me realize that I am one lucky woman to have the legacy that I do from the man we sent to heaven. 

One last note about the outfit....I mentioned above that the mint pants are actually capris.  Here's the story on those.  I have wanted colored pants for a long time, but I've always felt like they look RIDICULOUS with my curves.  And then they generally call them skinny jeans and I'm like, peace out kids....I saw these at Macy*s and I snatched them up a few years ago.  I LOVE them.  And I especially love wearing them in the winter with boots because I am the ONLY one who knows there is a really goofy 6 inch gap between the end of the capri leg and the sock under said boot.  It's quite hilarious when I take the boots off and I usually have a good hearty laugh at how un-sexy I look and promptly take the socks off. 

The moral of the story:  Cut yourself some slack and embrace the imperfections, people!  That's what makes us interesting.  Who doesn't like a good story?  We all have 'em. 

Until next time, my lovelies!

-R

Busy making other plans.

The late great John Lennon penned the phrase, "life is what happens while you're busy making other plans." This quote has always been a personal favorite, but in the last five days it has brought on new meaning. Very powerful meaning. 

Today my maternal grandfather went to heaven. He's been sick for a lot of years, but tough as nails and lived through multiple heart attacks, Cancer, diabetes and the list goes on and on. But, when it was time to go and he knew it, it happened fast and for that I am grateful. 

When I drove away from my house on Friday the 13th, I had no idea what was about to happen. As far as I was concerned I was off to have a 4-day play weekend with my bestie and her family and we were going to craft and eat bacon. Friday night I received word that the end was near for our Granddad. We had family council via Skype (VERY normal for my fam) and we decided that we would hold tight on gathering because he was given 4-6 weeks. I was out of town on mini vacay, my SIL is about to give birth and my BIL was in a show here in Ogden. 24 hours passed and all was well. Granddad came home, was communicating with his family and we all settled in to the wait. Saturday I started to go into crazy brain mourning mode. I'm a spaz, especially without enough information and I felt this limbo and uneasiness that I couldn't shake. I went to bed so sad on Saturday and tried to sleep. Sunday morning I woke up to an email from my mother that said something to the effect of "come sooner than later." Well awesome. Here I was on a mini-vacay and she was telling me this. To add to it this is my BUSIEST week for personal and professional reasons. I started to get really worked up and sad again. I laid in bed and decided to cancel my crazy day (Wednesday) and plan to go on Tueaday after some important work appointments in Idaho Falls. Jo always makes me bacon and amazing breakfast at some point so I went upstairs and had a hearty feast. As you know from previous posts, I nap and then cope. Such was the case this morning. I told her, I couldn't do church because I needed to nap and game plan. She was very understanding, as always, and I went back down to the cave... I mean guest bedroom and crawled back in bed to sleep on it. 

As soon as I woke I up I felt like I should at least get dressed for the last hour of church and meet Jo to help her teach her kiddies class. I made a call to my sister and then a text landed on my phone from my aunt. Things aren't good. You better come quicker. What? When did this happen? I JUST got an email from my mom THREE hours ago! I called her and panic set it. Suddenly NOTHING else mattered (cue the Metallica classic) and I needed to pack, gas up and GO. In my frenzy to get ready for church, I realized I had forgot to brush my teeth because, well, said toothbrush was chillin in my purse pocket. Smooth, Raylynn, smooth. Thank goodness for gum in all sorts of places in my car. 

As soon as I was in my car listening to "happy music" the water works started. I thought, "ok, this is it. This is what you need. Cry it out because you are the oldest grandchild and the rock." That went on for four hours as I sped across the state listening to tunes and trying to sing myself some comfort and cry it out as much as possible. 

Upon arriving at my grandma's I found more joy than I expected...wait! Who am I kidding? We are a music-loving, food-in-mass-quantities eating family. Of course there was joy! I went into my granddad's room and my heart sunk. Here he was. He couldn't talk, but had enough gumption to sit up and stay sitting up. I sat next to him and talked. He's always the one who insists we call when we are traveling to and from his house. I felt like I should tell him I made it safe and that the weather was perfect. I felt like I should tell him that I cancelled my whole life to be sitting next to him. I held his hand. I felt his pulse and when he was on the phone with his cousin he squeezed my hand. My heart ached already. He knew it was me and I knew it. I didn't go to bed until 130 that night because A. I was super caffeinated and B. I was super worked up with my reality. My aunt and I talked it out and finally both went to bed at 2. Yesterday we spent the entire day together. As soon as my mom arrived I knew that my granddad would start to let go. She's his only daughter and the oldest and subconsciously when she showed up, there was order. 

Finally at about 4, I felt like it was my turn to really have my moment with my sweet granddad man and document it. We are a genealogy family and I wanted this memory preserved for my future babes. He was miraculously more responsive so I went in. I took his hand and had a conversation along with my grandma and uncle. I would share that photo, but it is so private and special. My heart knew that he knew that it was me. I sat there for a long time. Later that evening we sang hymns to him and at that point I knew that I had been inspired to sing what I sang to help him calm down and get ready. My kiddo cousins were all so brave and openly mourned and cried a lot. I did not. I cried in private. I couldn't fall apart while they were. Mamma bear instincts in full force with my little flock of cuties.

This morning I laid in bed knowing he was going to leave us today. I drove to their house and when I saw him he looked completely different than twelve hours before. I gave my final kiss and "good bye, I love you" and walked away. As I was leaving, my incredible grandma hugged me and said, "your granddad was always so proud of all his grandkids. You started that. He was proud of you first."  

The level of sadness is high. I am one of the many grandkids who is named after him. I have such random fond memories of going to visit on the farm. It was never about fancy, always about family. He called me honey and said I love you and was a guardian of great magnitude if we were on the road going to or from his house. He taught me that a good man is one who works hard and always kisses his sweetheart, especially after family prayer. He was crusty and grumpy at times, but he was our granddad and we absolutely adored him. Tonight I shared the following on Facebook, "One of my fondest memories as a kid was having ice cream for dinner with my grandparents while my parents were on a date night. It was August so granddad's garden was in full harvest so he and my grandma had fresh tomatoes and we had Schwan's ice cream which was ALWAYS on hand. I was maybe 10 & I still remember how special it made me feel that they let us be hooligan kids and just eat ice cream."

I am so sad to have him gone, but I know he is happier and painless. That is all that matters. My tear ducts needed a good flush anyway and they got it. I am also sad that I had to cancel plans for things that last week mattered most. The concert and the Oscars party are oh so trivial compared to the opportunity I've had to bond with family and hold his hand and say "I love you" just one last time. 

The moral of the story: what happens when we are making other plans is usually a big fat sign from above that it is time to remember our priorities and who matters most. The fluff can wait. 

Until next time, my lovelies. 

-R