Thursday, September 30, 2010

Fortune Cookie

Something very nice happened today. One of my staff, sensing my hunger, went and bought me lunch. It was a random act of kindness that reminded me how important the little things are. With it came a fortune cookie that read....

"You need to take a long relaxing vacation".

The Chinese have spoken. Consider it done!

Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Extra - Extra - Read All About It

Look mom - I'm at the center of a controversy. Thanks to a letter to the editor I unseemingly placed compliments of my Public Relations Manager....I'm getting hate mail in the Salt Lake Tribune.

The Salt Lake Tribune
Turned away
Publication Date: 09/26/2010 12:00 AM
Link to Article

American Red Cross manager JaLae Thompson thanked all of the blood donors and corporate and community sponsors who helped the Red Cross meet its summer donation goals for Utah (“Blood donations,” Forum, Sept. 20). I join in thanking these admirable companies, sponsors and donors.

Thompson fails to mention one reason why the Red Cross has difficulty in meeting its blood needs. It daily turns away perfectly healthy donors. For reasons that don’t make much sense, the Food and Drug Administration requires that the Red Cross turn away any person who is homosexual, bisexual or any other variation that involves attraction to the same sex. The Red Cross admits that a healthy homosexual person’s blood is just as good as a healthy heterosexual’s blood, so why the ban?

If Thompson really wants to increase donations, a good place to start would be to allow all healthy adults to donate blood, and then look for corporate sponsors.

Michael Gawthrop

Nothing like sparking a little bit controversy, eh? Should I file my rebuttal? I can do it in two words:

Government regulation.

I don't make it - I just (sometimes begrudgingly) enforce it.

Monday, September 27, 2010

The Sad, Sorrowful Bellowing

Babies shouldn't die. Even the four-legged kind.

But unfortunately, sometimes they do.

Which is exactly why I cried this afternoon when my mom called to tell me that despite my very best efforts, Curly moved on to greener pastures. This blind little baby calf that I fell in love with when he really needed falling in love with. This needy little fella that I nurtured and mothered when he needed nurturing and mothering the most.

At a time when we both did.

Which is why I became his momma.

It was inevitable. As I learned to love and care for one of God's little creations, I realized that Curly needed a momma like everyone needs a momma.

And I needed a baby like everyone needs a baby. Even the four-legged kind.

If I was honest, I'd tell you that my journey to the farm wasn't entirely about falling in love with a needy little blind calf. It wasn't even really about taking care of my sick farmer father, which I adore by the way (even though he wouldn't let me bring Curly home to keep in my back yard). It was really about finding and embracing a secret part of me.

The part that I left behind when I fled to the city 20 years ago. The part would try to hide the fact that, at my core, I really am a dairyman's daughter. Barnyard flies, piles of poop, non-pasteurized whole milk, and all.

And while I was falling in love with cows and experimenting with this truth...I remembered something.


The times in my childhood when I would watch those momma cows get separated from their babies right after birth, so they could provide milk for the rest of us. Those momma cows that would go one way - why their babies went the other in separation. And how I would watch those momma cows anxiously pace up and down their holding pen fence day after day...with the sad and sorrowful bellowing.

Something, I can understand.

And so, instead of hoping Colton's playing with horses above...I'll settle for a cute little blind baby calf which we all came to love.

Sunday, September 26, 2010

The Dance

Today was a big day in the Thompson household. It involved a lot of work, mucho medicine, more than a little uncomfort, constant monitoring, and a final field trip (thinking positive!) to the Reproductive Care Center. It wasn't quite as complicated as launching the space shuttle, but it was pretty darn close.

So here's to hoping that the stars truly were aligned so Dr. H could work his magic and remove the "in" from infertile.

Now is when the dance really begins.

Saturday, September 25, 2010

To Curly With Love

Please- please - please pray for Curly.

My sister called and he's so sick they don't think he is going to make it through the night.

I've invested a lot into this blind little fella... and I swear if he doesn't pull through, it will break my little country heart.

Babies shouldn't die. Even the four legged kind.

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

An Officer & A Gentleman

I got a letter from Little Brother today that made me smile. Seems he was fitted for his dress blues and to quote Drill Instructor Sgt. Butler, he looks,"damn sexy".

I knew he would.

Which leads me to my next mission. I need to find Little Brother a woman. Here's my ad. What do you think? (more importantly, know anyone who wants to apply?!)

Marine Wife Wanted. Successful applicants must be able to use a penknife and a compass. She who dares wins. Camouflage provided.

My ad is a work in progress so let me know how I can perfect it. Any takers?

Monday, September 20, 2010

Dear Mr. Thompson

And that pre-birthday present you gave me this weekend is pretty spectacular. Thanks for giving up your TT Roadster for something with a backseat.

In my book, backseat = baby seat.


Burning Ring Of Fire

This is what we came home to after a nice Sunday drive.

This was the view from my backyard. No es bueno.

1600 homes evacuated. So after spending the night at the Red Cross shelter...I've realized that working in a shelter is easier when it isn't quite possibly your own.

p.s. To the firefighter who was injured when a horse bit him as he was trying to evacuate it ...I'm sorry. I think I've met the horse. He's mean. He almost kicked the cop that was leading him down the road to the animal shelter.

p.s.s. To the soldier who started the fire on the other side of the mountain...I'm not mad but the homeowners minus their homes might be. It wasn't your fault that you were told to shoot your machine gun on a hot, dry, windy day, right? I mean, who can predict the spark or the 50 mile wind which will take it away, right?

p.s.s.s. Although FEMA is calling the disaster the Machine Gun Fire (oh yes they are!)....for a minute I was calling it the Exit Strategy. For a few hours New England was in my grasp even if I could only take my dog, wedding photos, journals, photo albums and legal documents to get there.

Friday, September 17, 2010

If You Can't Beat 'Em - Join 'Em!

I'm going to love football. I'm going to love football. I'm going to love football. I'm going to love football. I'm going to love football. I'm going to love football. I'm going to love football. I'm going to love football. I'm going to love football. I'm going to love football. I'm going to love football. I'm going to love football. I'm going to love football. I'm going to love football. I'm going to love football. I'm going to love football. I'm going to love football. I'm going to love football. I'm going to love football. I'm going to love football. I'm going to love football. I'm going to love football. I'm going to love football. I'm going to love football. I'm going to love football. I'm going to love football. I'm going to love football. I'm going to love football. I'm going to love football. I'm going to love football. I'm going to love football. I'm going to love football. I'm going to love football. I'm going to love football. I'm going to love football. I'm going to love football. I'm going to love football. I'm going to love football. I'm going to love football. I'm going to love football. I'm going to love football. I'm going to love football.

[pause ten minutes].

It didn't work.

So I better tell Dr. H, the fertility rock star, that the next time we have a follow-up appointment....I'd like to spend more time talking about our actual treatment plan, then the Utah Utes.

I must hand it to him though, for once Mr. Thompson actually enjoyed the visit.

..and this my dear readers is what we married folk call a "trade off".

Monday, September 13, 2010

Love & Marriage

Do you think if I danced around naked my husband would take his eyes off the football game long enough to notice?

Yeah, I didn't think so either.

Such is the life of an NFL widow. Right?


Which is probably why this has been his shirt of choice for the last few weeks...

I'd apologize for the wrinkles but I refuse to iron it.

Frankly, he's lucky he got the hanger.


If you want the truth, he wears it for multiple reasons. Among the top, is the fact that it makes this little spitfire laugh with his stories about me tying a bomb around his foot.

Meet Boo.

She is the reason that God created grassy hills. Her laughter is infectious and she always makes me wish that I was a five year old all over again.

Someday she is going to grow up and tie a bomb around some guys foot too.

Chances are that he'll be watching football while she does it.

Saturday, September 11, 2010


I slept in today until 8:30am. It was glorious.

I stretched in my bed to the sound of construction in my driveway. A pleasant sound after 5 years of the HOA and Builder bartering on driveway replacement.

I rushed out to get the lawnmower from the garage before they started pouring cement...and spent some time mowing the lawn. It was early... but I figured it was okay since construction hammers were pounding.

I felt the cool breeze on my face and felt thankful for crisp almost-Fall mornings.

I whacked the weeds.

I watered the flowers.

I played in the dirt.

I picked roses.

I looked up at the sliding glass door and saw a 9-year-old's little face stuck to it, watching me as I sprayed off the patio.

I beckoned her outside and we turned the hose on the dog for tricks. I clapped when Mia mastered a flip.

I grabbed the soap and we dumped it on the dog giggling as we scrubbed.

I thought about my baby brother as I saw my neighbor's flag ruffling in the breeze. I touched my heart and taught Lil A' the Pledge of Allegiance.

I made waffles with whipped cream and berries.

I sent Lil A' to wake up her dad and smiled at her screams of delight as her dad grabbed her for a whisker.

I remembered how my dad whiskered me that exact same way.

I turned up the music and sang out loud. Off tune.

I cleaned the house.

I took a nap.

I woke up...

...and then I remembered today was 9/11.

I got down on my knees and told God how thankful I am that time really is the greatest of all healers.

Nine years.

There was a time when this date was my first thought of the day, my last...and everything in between. There was a time when I was on the brink of letting that cloud of dust and pile of rubble define me as it had all the people around me. The fear, sadness, and ultimate weariness of the days and weeks of response/recovery... and the years of working with families that followed. It was everything.

But today I woke up to another beautiful clear blue sky...

and for that I am grateful.

(p.s. I just learned a cool trick. You can click on 9/11 in the "Labels" below for previous related posts. Very cool.)

Friday, September 10, 2010

Everything I need to know...I learned on Facebook

Have you ever realized what a wealth of information Facebook is? People are not shy about telling you what's going on. In the last 5 minutes this is what I've learned:

  1. As part of Marine Corp training, they put my brother in a gas chamber and made him remove his mask. Thank you Marine Corp Recruit Depot, San Diego for the post and pictures.
  2. My relative's girlfriend is having a baby. Didn't even know he had a girlfriend.
  3. My niece is playing more than she is studying. (didn't we all our first year of college? Oh to be 18 again...)
  4. On this day "God wants me to know that if I need some energy and inspiration, I should step outside".
  5. An old high school friend I can't remember got new boots.
  6. My best friend has a secret.
  7. My brother is going hunting.
  8. Holly is pregnant. (Wahoo!) Unfortunately, she also got a stain in her carpet.
  9. If by chance I should get a stain in my carpet...14 people swear by Oxy Clean, Goo Gone, Dawn Dish Detergent, or Spot Shot.
  10. Someone I don't really know is getting a divorce because her husband cheated. The play-by-play is getting ugly. (but yet I can't stop reading...)
  11. Godiva Chocolate Cheesecake from the Cheesecake Factory is amazing. Probably surpasses my Reece's Peanut Butter Cup kind.
  12. Tobi's wedding anniversary is tomorrow and Janet met her husband 10 years ago today.
  13. Cathy hiked Meuller Park.
  14. My neighbor watched the BSU/Virginia Tech game 3 times in 24 hours.
  15. Mr. Thompson said the following prayer, "Dear God, please bring back Bob Marley. In return you can have Justin Bieber. Amen". What the....?
  16. The Marriage Ref is casting in new locations. Good to know since I didn't know about Bob Marley.
  17. Someone I know became an anti-Mormon. Someone else wants to burn the Koran. Barack Obama believes both are "contrary to American values". I'm with him.
  18. Did I mention people really really really love my husband? Really. (I do too. Really)
  19. I now know Amy's phone number...but I don't know Amy.
  20. My brother Bar T owns a ranch in real life and is around horses by day...yet he toys with a fake racehorse by night. I swear if he starts playing FarmVille...I quit.


Facebook. Should we love it, or hate it? I'm not sure...but I answer when it calls.

Probably for the same reason that I always pick up the tabloid as I wait in line at the grocery checkout.

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Petition For All Things Great

We are all Americans. As Americans, what do we do when we want to reverse a decision?...right a wrong?...fight and injustice?....overrule the court?

First, we listen to a little Peter Cetera.

Second, we sign a petition.

Here's your chance to do both.

As luck would have it, ol' Peter Cetera is coming to town this Friday night and I need to be there. Preferably in the front row although I'll settle for the far corner of the lawn. Because I like him. A lot. There. I said it (not a surprise if you listen to my playlist). Mr. Thompson however, has drawn his line in the sand and won't let me buy tickets. Not even the cheap ones. Near the parking lot. I believe that his exact words were..."over my dead body".

So, I figured that I'll start with a petition and advance to the dead body if I don't get the necessary signatures for an overruling.

All in favor of Peter Cetera on Friday, please say "aye".

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

On The Lighter Side

Mr. Thompson is making spaghetti from the kitchen and just randomly asked me from out of the blue if I was ever on birth control. I replied, "nope". And then we both busted up laughing....

So glad we still have our sense of humor.


Speaking of birth control (or the lack thereof), Mr. Thompson's sense of humor almost got us kicked out of "the bullpen" at the fertility clinic. We went in for a Kruger test and a new 14 year old lab tech had to give us instructions with a straight face. Mr. Thompson told him that we were "pros" at the bullpen routine and it got a bit uncomfortable for a second because this new lab tech didn't know what to do with that. I think he was told in his new hire orienation that he couldn't laugh or something.

As soon as the door shut we both busted up laughing...

So glad we still have our sense of humor.


Do you think it would be wrong to take my camera with us the next time we go? This is just too good not to blog about. You have to see this place. There are glaring florescent lights, a vinyl covered ugly chaise-like chair that resembles something poolside, a sink, industrial soap and paper towel dispensers straight from the public bathroom at local Chevron, a table with a fake plant sitting on it and an empty basket underneath(because somebody stole the magic magazine). Above the Chevron sink (next to the Chevron soap and paper towel dispensers) is a little wooden door which leads to the new 14 year old lab tech who is waiting on the other side.

We can hear that lab tech shuffling paperwork so logical reasoning would deduct that if we can hear him...he can hear us. Right?

So, being the "pros" that we are, we sit there for 20 minutes cracking infertility jokes and giggling like school girls. All three of us.

Seriously, so glad we still have our sense of humor.


If God ever grants us the blessing of a test-tube baby I can't wait to tell the little bugger about the sacrifices his/her parents made.

And how much laughing we did while doing it (no pun intended).

Saturday, September 4, 2010

Putting the Will in Wilson!

Today, I miss my little brother.

A lot.

I don't know why. Maybe, it's because I watched "Making of a Marine" on the Military channel last night. Or, I'm doing his chores at home and technically little baby Curly is his. Perhaps, it's just that we went from chatting on the phone very only two letters in 6 weeks. Probably, it's just because I'm his big sis. Most likely, it's because my mom found this recent picture of him the Marine Facebook page (I'm telling you, she's better than Nancy Drew!)

Obviously, he can run, but he can't hide (even at Camp Pendleton). Anyway, I miss the kid.

I've always been a Patriot who esteems veterans at the very top of my list...but last night I got all choked up when I saw some guys in fatigues at the grocery store. When you see a solider, please be sure and thank him for his sacrifice.

His family's too.

And I quote from this week's letter...."They are trying to kill me. They are really trying to kill me! The most important part though, is that I'm still alive. There were a few moments I wondered." That seems to about sum up Marine Boot Camp. One of the most physically demanding things someone can go through, which I know I couldn't cut.

So pray for him, will ya?

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

A Little Bit Country & A Little Bit Rock-n-Roll

Silly me.

I forgot that I was a farm girl.

I think that it happened when I turned 18 and decided to become a little more rock-n-roll. Probably around the time that I moved to a city in which my apartment building had more cockroaches than my hometown had people (and cows).

But last week, I was able to go back home and get in touch with my roots.

The country kind.

Which surprisingly, run deeper than I thought. What a pleasant surprise.

My calling: to take care of my father after his surgery (cancer sucks!)

What I failed to remember when I accepted that calling was that my father owns a farm. To take care of one, is to take care of the other.

Somehow I didn't know that (probably because my dad never gets sick...or I never offer to do chores since I almost drown in the manuer pile when I was 10.)

But with that realization came a fabulous opportunity that every infertile woman can appreciate:


Newborns. All within a week.

Meet Curly. He's my favorite. I saved his life more than once by shoving a feeding tube down his throat. Finally, we graduated to a bottle (after sucking fingers) and I couldn't be more proud.

But he was (is) one sick little fella and I've lost a lot of sleep over him in the last two weeks. Just ask my dad (who finally had to get out of the recliner despite doctors orders to save us both). Not to mention that this little guy is also blind. What mother doesn't love a blind little baby calf?

Curly is going to turn me into a vegetarian.

Because I love him. Blindness, feeding tubes, and all.

This is Glen (as in Glen Beck. Hey - when in Rome....). This little guy is a trouble maker (hence the name) which is quite noticeable with the pink patch on his forehead. I'm still looking for the missing hair. He too, likes to suck on fingers (and pants...and shirts....and long hair...)

Glen has Attention Deficit Disorder...

Requiring a lot of attention...

Which, like all babies, is always satisfied at feeding time. (please note that he prefers my "teta" over his biological mothers)

And finally, meet Barack. No maintenance required and totally independent. He tells you what he wants and then will take what he needs. My kind of guy. But sometimes he steals all the milk which doesn't work so well for the team...


While we're having Show & Tell... you should meet my 90 year old horse Butch (Really. He's 90 in horse years which is unheard of!). My grandpa gave him to me when I was 15 because I had stars in my eyes and would pine away for him every time I visited my grandparent's ranch. One day, my grandpa surprised me.

For 20 years I have loved this horse.


And just in case you think I'm totally should know that I did chores in flip-flops every day. Twice.

Because that's what a New Yorker would do in a field of crap. So in addition to being a little bit country...I'm still a little bit Rock-n-Roll!

(p.s. my dad calls these my Chinese Motorcycle Boots. Good thing cancer didn't take his sense of humor.)