How to make something...out of nothing

My friend Bridgid injured her foot a while back and called me tonight for a ride home from work, as she can't drive. We both had to be at the same place at 7pm, so we stopped at my apartment to grab a bite to eat on the way. Only when we walked in did I remember I'm in the process of moving, and don't have any furniture, hardly any utensils, only one pan, and basically no food. Obviously, being a hostess is not my day job! So, I offered Bridgid the only seat in the house - my exercise ball - (at least somebody's getting use out of that thing!) and proceeded to cook her a spontaneous meal with any ingredients I could dig up. Let's just say I am well on my way to being America's Next Top Chef (or, maybe Bridgid is just a wee bit too nice), but she actually asked for seconds of my sauteed Broccoli/Asparagus/Snap pea/almond/black bean concoction, topped off with Braag's Liquid Aminos (a product just as tasty as soy sauce with a fraction of the sodium, which I feel everyone should embrace).

Anyway, here is a picture, snapped on my cell phone, of Bridgid balancing on my exersize ball in the corner, eating my yummy masterpiece - with a spoon. (Just so you know, I did offer her the one fork in the house, but she apparently thought taking on broccoli with a spoon would make her cool..)


Bridgid, anyone who can give me a memory like this one is autimatically cool, spoon or not!

Speechless

(Please note the date above is the date I started writing this blog - way back in March. This goes to show how often I thought about posting, but never did...)

Three weeks ago, I was diagnosed with viral laryngitis. (Yay for working in a hospital with sick kids).

(Look how sad I am as I point to my inflamed voice box)

I attempted to go to work, both Monday and Tuesday that week, and was promptly sent back home. Not because I was contagious, but because I was basically worthless. I could not introduce myself or child life services to my patients and their families. I could not prepare them for surgery, nor support them through invasive procedures. Can you imagine me whispering "now take a deep breath, and squeeze mommy's hands," when the patient is trying to out-match Metallica in a screaming contest?

The list of things I couldn't do continued. I couldn't answer the phone when my nurses called me to bring activities to a room, and eventually even the student I'm training gave up trying to decipher my homemade sign language. I thought since I was part Italian and speak with my hands, that might work, but I guess it didn't. By the way, If you went to Italy, how would you know who was signing and who was simply speaking? Hmmm. Anyway, I was sent home, and told I had to call a doctor before I could return. Yuck. However, this is where my aha moment began...

Being somewhat new in Austin, I do not have a primary care physician. I called the first provider listed on my insurance, and tried to explain that I needed to see a doctor. It took me two minutes to squeeze out "I lost my voice." The receptionist heard a mix between a dying cow and squawking goose, and asked me to please speak up. I attempted again, and exasperated she stated something was wrong with the connection , because she just couldn't hear me. I wanted to tell her that I was what was wrong with the connection, but that would have taken six more minutes. So I hung up and drove to the office - still in the jammies I had changed into after leaving work - and walked up to the receptionist' s desk. When I opened my mouth and only a squawk came out, she smiled and handed me a clipboard and a pen. 1/2 hour later, I had my laryngitis diagnosis, a prescription to drink lemon tea with honey, and doctor's orders to not speak for 24 hours. My larynx beat you to your order, Doc...

Back in my car, I picked up my phone to call a friend I was supposed to meet up with. Only, mid-ring I realized I wouldn't be able to talk with her, so I hung up. I stopped at the grocery store, and when the cashier asked how my day was, I whispered an answer, but she couldn't hear me. She stopped checking my groceries to lean in to hear me, and the shopper behind me glared impatiently in my direction. As I walked out to my car with my cough drops and lemons, it dawned on me how much my life would have to change if I never got my voice back.

I know it would be hard for me to listen so much. Instead of asking my coworker how her weekend went, I tend to walk into work Monday mornings and tell her why I am exhausted, due to the temple-trip/B-B-Q/grocery-shopping/had-to-help-my-friend-move-and-game-night-Saturday, followed by my Relief-Society-meeting/had-to-do-my-visiting-teaching/be-home-taught/prepare-a-lesson/make-salad-for-the-linger-longer-and-then-stay-for-the-fireside-Sunday. Oh yah, not to mention I woke up at 5am to work out/make my bed.... oh sorry, where was I? Case in point. I'd have to learn to listen, and learn to be okay with silence.

Second, I would have to set aside my pride and learn to text. Now, I can text, but do so with one finger, and have to store up motivation and energy to reply to one when I get it - (No joke, it will take me at least five minutes).

I'd have to concentrate hard on my handwriting, to make it legible. Once, when I was writing some words on a chalkboard for a Sunday School lesson, someone in class asked if I had ever considered becoming a kindergarten teacher. Flattered, I asked why, and she said I wrote like one. A kindergarten teacher? I inquired. No, she replied - a kindergartner. Oh.

Moving on, I guess I have to tag this one on for my mom: Since I'd be writing more, I'd have to learn to spell correctly. If I could succesfully...sucessfuly...ssuuccessffullyy do it, she and all my English teachers would be so proud! (If you aren't sure about a word, just throw in two of each letter and you should cover all your bases...)

I'd have to keep my body language in check. Several years ago, after a particularly frustrating morning trying to get three kids dressed and out the door, I noticed the four-year-old boy I nannied for staring at me. Cautiously, he asked if I was mad at him, and in the calmest voice I could muster, I said no. I needed him to believe I was calm and in control. He cocked his head and looked at me and asked, "then why is your face mad?"

Not only do actions speak louder than words, but I've come to realize that body language shouts over anything we try to say.

Finally, I'd have to find a way to communicate a lot of information (more than can fit in a text) to a lot of people at one time so that I could stay connected with others. Oh wait...that would be called a blog!

Since you all know how often I update this blog :), you will be pleased to know I have beat laryngitis, and my voice has returned, full force. Hopefully, a little fuller of wisdom and silence as well...

(Just so you can see how excited I was...)

Family Matters

Meet Soren, my 2-year-old nephew. He wears converse sneakers, has an obsession with brooms and golf clubs, and has gorgeous golden curls that I am envious of. He resides in Portland with his parents (my sister Cho and her husband Scott).

Meet Cora and Claire, my neices. Cora is 4 years old. Her favorite animal is a pigmy marmoset, her favorite article of clothing is her princess dress, and she absolutely loves spending time with her Aunt Desi. It's true - just ask her! Claire is 2, and her current favorite word is "why?" She thrives off creating messes and peeing on every clean surface in her house, and has the most intense head of bleach-white hair I have ever seen, especially right after waking up. They live in Boise with their parents (my sister Amber and her husband Mark).

These are the girls in my family, in a traditional family pic (probably, it's better if you just don't ask): My sister Cho, me, and my sisters Amber and Michelle. These girls are my best friends.

This is my favorite (and only) little brother, Michael, and his wife Anne. They live near my hometown of Payette, ID. And no matter what he says or how strong he looks, I really can take him down...

Next up is my mom, Jeanne, and my step-dad, Val. They live in Payette, Idaho, and I would say they are empty nesters, except they share their five acres with some chickens and cows. My mom was recently crowned Superest Mom of the Universe, and still the title does her no justice.

I need to add a picture of my step-mom, Trista, which is extremely difficult as she refuses to be in pictures! However, I will accomplish this mission...Just know she is a pastry chef, and makes one mean cherry-pear crisp with coconut almond topping.... I do not have any current photos of her, but please know my half-sister Angelina is also a very important part of my life.

Finally, as soon as I am able to upload them, I will scan in some photos of my Father, Steven Lewis Heide, who passed away May 28th 2004. He was a man you would have argued with, while enjoying a mexican feast at one of his favorite mom and pop restaurants. You might have rolled your eyes at his ridiculous wit, or maybe listened as he played one of his "hand clapping, toe tapping, knee slapping, sweet country songs"on his guitar. You would have really enjoyed him.

This is my family; may you get to know them and love them as much as I do.

Jumping in

So I guess this post officially inducts me into the blogging world. I never thought I would see this day, mostly because I suffer from what those in the sociology world call "cultural lag." Basically, I am always a step or two, a year of two, or a new gadget or two behind everyone else. I realized I was out of one loop when I stepped off the plane from Buenos Aires into the Washington DC airport in 2005, and a gentleman sitting next to me was writing on a palm pilot... when it rang. At that moment, I knew I was not in Kansas anymore. I had a brain and a heart and courage (I had just returned from an 18 month mission in a foreign country, which I found required all of the above), and I felt I did not need anything more - especially not a cell phone. Four months later I found myself with one in my hand, but I reminded everyone it was only because my parents would not let me head to college without one. Now, when my cell phone dies with no charger in sight, I panic and try to remember how I functioned in the olden days.

Next, we move to facebook. I refused for over two years to get involved in all the hype surrounding this sensation. It wasted time, and was risky, I was sure. Then, I moved to Austin and was called into the Relief Society presidency. Out of utter neccessity, and against everything I personally believed in, I created a page in order to keep up with the comings and goings of the sisters in my ward, and stay "in the know" with ward happenings. I vowed aloud to anyone who would listen that I was not a fan, and that I would not let it become my life. Now, I check it on a daily basis, and rely on it for my social calendar, birthday reminders, and memory-making purposes. It is not my life, but if facebook ever did go down, I'd have to remember how to use a cell phone again. Just kidding.

In September 2000, I recived a Mac desktop as a highschool graduation present. On that blueberry-colored mega brain I hacked out research papers and New Testament summaries at wee hours of the morning, all through my first years of college. After the mission, it still functioned, just shuffled along and required a few multi-vitamins for some joint pain and arthritis. I continued stubbornly using my computer for years, until 2008, when I attempted to open my facebook page and my Mac's internet explorer rejected my attempt, stating my version was not tough enough to handle it. I broke down. Not in tears, though I came close since simply looking at my Mac elicits nostalgia for my college years. No, I broke down and purchased a laptop, which I now use on a daily basis.

I could go on, about texting and digital cameras, but I'll spare you. Basically, a good friend of mine from NY whispered in my ear a year back that it would be great if I had a blog so she could keep up with my life. I whispered back, "no." Then, more recently, I reviewed the blog of another friend, and realized not only can it be used as a journal entry/memorybook for myself and (future) posterity, but it can be a tool for sharing my testimony and the Gospel with others. So, with that in mind, and in the face of 'cultural lag', here I go...