The Phoenix: Epicuriousmothering Rising

  Well. This has been a week. I can’t believe that I picked THIS week to write for seven days about things that are beautiful because it’s been a struggle.  Holy Hannah. Ug. Finnegan tested Positive (the rest of us are negative) We read our eyes out about symptoms and we both agree that Finnegan started his symptoms on Monday morning.  He woke up saying his throat hurt and he felt tired.  This is actually pretty common with him when he doesn’t get enough sleep so we asked him if he felt sick or anything and he said no and so off he went to school seeming 100% normal.  The next day said he felt a little tired and his nose ran but he said his throat was better so I gave him allergy medicine (another normal thing at our house this time of year—we all have allergies—I’ve had bad allergies all season) and off to school and so on and so forth until Thursday when he felt pretty much normal again but realized he might have had more exposure than the rest of us and thought maybe, just maybe, he

So this happened today . . .  (It was much harder than I thought . . . It takes a long time to get enough spit to fill this vile.) So that’s why yesterday was hard.   We’ve been exposed (that word—it’s like you’ve been caught naked—and it kind of feels like that) to someone with Covid-19 for an extended period of time.  It was about six days ago, but they only got their positive test last night.  So we had to go down and tell the kids that Halloween at school, what small tributes were going to take place, were not going to happen because we were now on lock down until we know if we are covid positive.  In fact, instead of planning on and putting together costumes, we needed to text and call and inform everyone we’ve been in contact with that we were indeed exposed and that we could be carriers and they too might have been exposed (that word again). It’s such a humbling and embarrassing and humiliating thing to have to do—call and text people and tell them that they could have been comp

There is no more beautiful news than your mama is actually going to be just fine. With all the possible things that could have gone wrong (and some did), to find out it was just a potassium imbalance (which was very scary for a minute), we will take it. She is home and feeling wonderful. Hallelujah. (Also had another waking up the world hike, a gorgeous day with actual warmth, and got to look at Celia's stunning architecture design mock ups--they are amazing!)

These say it all . . .

  A sunset--but this is just how the sky looked this morning (didn't have a camera) I woke up hours before the sun rose.  It was pitch black out and about 10 degrees F.  I pulled on my thermal running pants, a thermal shirt, a down vest and a reflective heat parka, a heat-tech wool hat, and double layer pair of gloves.  On my head, I put a 150watt head lamp and with my hiking shoes, headed out into the cold, my breath coming out as great puffs of white. I met a dear friend and together we climbed 1500 feet to the top of a mountain of a hill behind our houses, Milly's Mountain a fellow hiker once told us, in the darkness.  We talked about the world we live in, the one we hope for, and how we get to choose our hard.  We got to the top and stopped and turned around three-sixty.  The mountains to the east, Lone Peak, Pfeifferhorn, Box Elder, were perfectly outlined in the pinking sky.  Salt Lake City Valley sparkled and twinkled to the north of us and Utah Valley shimmered to the s

(Tingle ranch right before a huge thunder storm--beautiful despite or possibly because of the storm . . .)  I fell asleep last night as I was about to write my day's beautiful thing (it was a beautiful thing in itself--one of those sleeps that sneaks up on you and steals you away without you even really knowing it--and lasted nine uninterrupted hours) I am changed with this week's intention of finding a beautiful thing in each day.  I hold and examine every seemingly insignificant part of my day and ask over and over, Is THIS the beautiful moment?  I've realized that by focusing so carefully, I've been living quite differently and deliberately all day long.  Each day is full of challenges, daily, sometimes hourly challenges.  And they, I have come to realize have their own beauty as well. Which is why yesterday's beautiful thing was a bitter hard beauty.   It happened when I ran into my parents house after a cold walk with my sister (which was really really good) an

  There is something that just rubs me wrong when I hear people talk about how great this Covid time has been for them.  I want to grab their shoulders and shake them and yell, "What are you talking about? It's horrible!  I can NOT understand you. At. All."   It's that little devil inside me that rears its ugly head.  I am somewhat horrified by my reaction to people's joy during this time and I hate that I have that reaction.  INXS had it right and I am profoundly aware of the truth of their song "Devil Inside."  Really, every single one of us really does have a devil inside and during these days, my devil is totally winning. I don't want it to win.  I want  to be happy for people who have loved this Covid time, who have thrived, and prospered and all good things have come to them.  I want  to understand them and joy with them, but I don't.  I just bite my tongue and try to change the subject because I don't want to seem ungrateful and rude a

Despite everything, we’ve made it to the beach.  This has been Piper’s fondest dream since Covid started.  We had to cancel two other beach vacations during these months and it’s crushed her. She has told us that the sun and the water and the sky and the smells and the sounds of the ocean—it feeds her soul.  Throughout these months, she has done so well: her grades have, if anything, gone up; she’s exercising; eating well; and generally pretty happy despite the million and one changes she’s had to deal with on a daily basis.  But every once and a while, this cloud will hover over her; she is quiet and reserved and won’t talk to us.   I hate those moments as a mama—I know that they mean she is deeply unhappy.   So when she begged us, after our third trip was cancelled, to please, even if it’s just for a few days, find us a place by the beach (she didn’t care if it was a shack—her words), could we please please please make it happen?  I said yes. Of course, being the slightly pessimistic

  All summer I’ve wanted to fill these shelves with green.  There have been a thousand and one thing that has stopped me, but over the past month, I’ve finally filled them with the plants and herbs I love.  It took me until October, but look at that green . . .makes my heart so happy.   I’ve been looking at it feeling so happy with the end result.  It took longer than I thought, was kind of a pain, but in the end, I love it.  Yet another example of where I need patience. Yesterday on my walk with my sister Doreen, a boy ahead of us on the trail called out to us.  We couldn’t hear until we got closer.  “Snake!  Big huge snake on the path!” Oh.   Six months ago?  My heart would be thumping out of my chest.  Yesterday?  I’m like, “Cool.  Tell me when I’m about to step on it.” And on I marched until I was a foot or two away from it.  A big old gopher snake.   “Hello, you big boy,” I said as I watched him slide off the path.  No, I didn’t want to hold him or get too near, but my heart rate