The Last of the Artifacts

Are you ready?

The final artifacts . . .

While looking at this view of part of the middle room,

you see many artifacts

from my Grandparents Neff--

the love seat, the bear rug, and the antelope rug/hanging thing.

My Grandpa, a big hunter, brought home this bear.

The antelope thing that is hanging is the softest thing you'll ever touch.

Did it come from something he hunted, too? 

I really don't remember many

pieces of art or decorations on the walls of our home,

but this picture of the Mesa Temple has always had a place in every house we've lived.

 My mom's guitar.

She used to be in a band.

With Cathy Couch.

My mom played the tambourine and sang.

They used to get together all the time and jam.

I loved hearing them sing and harmonize.

And I remember a few very good ward talent show performances.

They probably did some Monkees songs,

but I definitely remember the Mockingbird song . . .

("Mock (yeah) ing (yeah) bird (yeah), Mockingbird. Everybody have you heard . . .")

Laaaaaa!

My dad's acoustic guitar,

NOT the guitar he used to wake us up with

bright and early weekend mornings.

That's what the electric guitars were for.

The "Middle" room should really be called the "Music" room.

This room grew from two acoustic guitars to

about 6 electric guitars, a bass guitar, a drum set,

a keyboard, a piano, two or three amps, 

and equipment to record. 

Which meant lots of loud music and impromptu concerts

from family, friends, and neighbors here.

(by the way, we do call it the Middle room because the house is a big rectangle with this room in the very center and all the other rooms of the house surround it.)

 My grandma's picture of my mom and her brother, Joe.

I couldn't show artifacts from our house without including

our swimming pool.

Everyone in AZ has a swimming pool so of course we do, too.

One problem.

Ours has always been filled with dirt.

Bad for swimming.

Good for walking on "water".

Over the years us girls and our friends made many attempts at uncovering the pool.

We made it down to the second step at one point.

And this was the inspiration

for many ghost stories about our house . . .

What is really buried in that pool??

More backyard.

The other side of the wall is the alley.

We climbed this wall a lot when all of the neighbor kids

played tag and hide and seek and had water wars.

One more of grandma's frogs that always hung in the bathroom.

I guess so you could time yourself . . .

 My parents also now have my grandparents table and chairs.

At grandma's house,

we sat around this table

eating cheez-its and drinking rootbeer

as she taught us to play poker with pennies.

Don't worry. We played other games too--

Checkers, Old Maid, Donkey . . .

But you always had to watch out for Grandma--

she was a cheater.

And she taught me everything I know.

 Another of grandpa Neff's creations . . .

  Trays for coloring and writing and eating on . . .

My dad is such a romantic guy.

Sometime shortly after they were married,

he gave my mom this gift--

a little porcelain toilet.

Her name is even engraven on the top.

I've heard there was an even more romantic note that went with it,

but I can't imagine how you can get more romantic than a toilet with a green lid.

The lid even comes off so you can keep things in the bowl,

or maybe use it as a candy dish.

And serve tootsie rolls.

Oh dear, I think I've gone too far.

And on that note,

my artifact documentation ends.

When He Grows Up

We were chatting in the car the other day
and my Ky-by told us
his plans for the future.
He says that when he grows up
he first wants to be a teacher
and then he wants to help special kids.
I have no doubt that those noble positions
will be part of his path at some point.
His caring heart is drawn to people he can help.
Each day she is at lunch,
he sits and eats with his friend,
a little girl with Rhett syndrome.
He tells me about the days
when the "special kids" are out at recess at the same time as he is
so he spends his recess playing with them.
He has a friend who broke his leg and is in a wheelchair now.
Ky's thoughtfulness leads him
to make cards, pray, and bring books to school for his friend.
He is proud of his responsibility to help push the wheelchair
and is happy to stay in with him or sit out of an activity
to read with him and keep him company.
I am so proud of this sweet, caring kid
and I look forward to seeing all that he becomes.

We Didn't Start The Fire . . .

And I don't know who did, but it sure is making a lot of people's lives difficult and destroying some beautiful country. My parents and siblings, along with several thousands, joined the growing number of evacuees from the Wallow Fire in Eastern Arizona. The town that I grew up in is now a ghost town as people packed up what they could and left not knowing what will be left when they return.

It is surreal watching your small town on the national evening news, while you're thousands of miles away. I was even more surprised when I saw my dad's store with its red horse standing proud on the roof in the background.

Click on the link to see the clip: ARIZONA FIRE

Hopefully, this is not the last image of my family's store. Let's all pray that the monsoons come really early this year, so that we can save whatever is left of where I grew up.

-Eric

Some More Artifacts

Shall we continue?

I guess I should've included this one with the fireplace pictures.

These three howling dogs used to be the guards

keeping us safe from all intruders

who dared come through the fireplace.

There was a bird once

who tried to enter our abode through the chimney.

He never made it all the way in though.

Thanks, protector dogs.

This is a punching bag.

I think my dad got it

when he had four teenage daughters in the house.

This hung at Grandma and Grandpa Neff's house back in the day.

Connecting the room we call "the Middle Room"

and the room called "the Arizona room"

is a sliding glass door.

The only profanity I ever heard in our home

was because of this door.

We would often close the door

to block the sound
from the piano, drums, guitars or noisy kids playing.

We were under strict command to always open it when we were done.

Well, unfortunately, that didn't always happen

and there were a few mishaps

when the door was left closed

and the glass was too clean

and an unsuspecting person would SMACK into the door.

Oh, the pain from running into that door! 

One of Grandma's frogs.

She was a frog collector.

It was her thing.

She had a frog room

with shelves and shelves

of all sorts of frog items.

She had over a thousand, I'm sure.

Attack!

In Kentucky, By the dad, With leaves.

A picture in my parents room of me (though I'm hard to find), Jenny, dad, and my great uncle.

I used to think this was my sister, Jacqui.

Not that it was her,

but that it was a figurine of her.

My mother painted it a long time ago
and it has always sat on her dresser.
She says I am wrong and it is not Jacqui.
Not of Jacqui.

My mom's scriptures in their brown leather zipper covering.

I so wish this picture wasn't fuzzy.

She modeled the scriptures for us.

The scale that we all love these days.

It always shows 5 pounds lighter than you really are.

It makes us feel good.

I don't really know what to think about this.

It's a piggy bank,

but not a piggy.

I'm really not sure what he is.

He is an heirloom from Grandpa Neff.

"Here we come, walking down the street, we get the funniest looks from everyone we meet.

Hey, hey we're the Monkees!"

I was raised Monkee.

My mom made sure of that.

I'm almost positive I know the words to every Monkee song.

At least, I've danced or made up a routine to every song.

Remember that mirror at the end of the hall?

This is that hall standing from the entry way.

The left wall wasn't always white.

It began with birds.

Gray-with-lots-of-birds-perched-on-trees wall paper covered the left wall.
Why did we get rid of that again?

Well, I guess this artifact exhibit is going to have to be a 3 part event.

I'm not quite finished

but I'm being beckoned away 

by a 6-year old

who wants banana bread cut and a bouncy ball retrieved from on top of the kitchen cupboards.

Artifacts

While I was in Arizona,

I made Jenny go around the house with me and take pictures

of artifacts

from our childhood and beyond.

My reasoning being:

a. historical record/family history

b.. I don't want to keep all these things in my house, but they bring back many, many memories and feelings so pictures make me happy

c. some things I remember so fondly have already gone the way of DI 

I now commence in recording what I think I know about things I dubbed as artifacts.

It is probably not accurate.

What I don't know I may try to make up.

Let's precede.

This is a star that I am absolutely shocked still hangs in my old room.

It took its place on the ceiling

after I made it from wire at the Mesa Museum for Youth.

I wish I could say I was like 6 when I made it there.

I was more like 16.

And it hangs on.

Pink Starfish here sat on my armoire next to my bed.

He had a very important job.

He rested over the corner of the armoire to protect it from getting scratched

when I opened the closet door.

He was a fine worker for about ten years.

He recently retired when my parents moved the furniture around in the room.

A genius idea.

I never thought of it.

This is a mirror.

I think I have looked at myself in this mirror more than a million times.

And half of those times were with Jenny.

This mirror is at the end of our hallway

in between my old room and my parents room.

Sometimes Jenny and I would gaze at ourselves to see if we really were twins like people kept asking.

Sometimes we compared the height of our belly buttons to discover that even though we are about the same height I have longer legs than she does.

Sometimes we danced.

The hall light here makes us look like angels.

Because we are.

 In the entry way is this hat stand.

Various hats have rested there.

Usually cool hats from the antique store.

 The front door from inside the house.

The mail man delivers our mail right through that slot

and it falls into a pile right on the floor.

Jacqui used to shout

"Thank you!"

every time the mail man delivered.

My boys use it as a peep hole to see the outside world, too.

My grandpa Neff made the door chime.

He used to have a matching door chime in his house, too.

You are now looking at the front porch.

The hanging bench swing on the left is the only thing that I remember being there in my younger days.

That is a good swing to sit on

with mom, sisters, and friends.

And maybe even boyfriends.

Don't tell my dad that though.

My grandparents Allen gave the bench swing to my mom for Christmas one year. 

 These two chairs recently took their places on the porch.

The chair on the left used to be in my grandparents Allen's backyard.

My mom won't be happy I can't remember because she told me like three times while I was in AZ,

but I think the chair was originally my great-grandpa Stapley's. 

The red bench sat at my grandparents Neff house in New River.

Did grandpa make this? 

He could have, but I don't think so. I think he just repainted it.

Sure. That's what it was.  

This is what's left of the wishing well.

Pretty pitiful now in my opinion.

It used to be this cute little brick wishing well with a shingled roof

and then some people went and crashed into it

and ruined it for everyone.

It sticks out just a little bit on the left side of the driveway

and if you don't remember it is there

it will shatter your window or dent your car.

In my case, I once got wedged between it and my dad's truck while pulling into the driveway.

Two nice big dents on the side of the Grand Marquis.

All while our cute neighbor boys were outside playing basketball.

Scarred me for life or something.

Now it's just an irrigation control place.

 My house.

We moved there in 1994.

I think the house was built in the 1950's.

I used to play in the irrigation with boogie boards in this yard.

It's a good house.

 My room is the window on the far right

next to the overgrown bush.

I played school with this bell when I was little.

I'm deciding it was my mom's bell.

 I'm saying this was given to my dad.

It has always sat by the fireplace.

 This is a green box.

I think it currently holds matches.

It is my dad's and he likes it.

I think before that it was a great grandpa's.

Wow. I know a lot about this one.

Or not.

But I really do know a lot about Clyde.

He makes a good date for the prom.

Just kidding.

We never really took him out on a date.

At least, I didn't.

Who knows about my sister's though . . .

But we did make commercials and movies with him as a prop.

 I think we may have been trying to smooch him.

It just looks odd though.

 My grandpa Neff made this clock.

I remember having it when we lived in Phoenix, too.

My grandpa is sooo talented.

 The fireplace

in almost its entirety.

I hope I don't make you too upset stopping right here.

Please don't worry, everyone.

I have more artifacts to share soon.

I just have to go get Kacin from school now.

Until another day

when you can be disturbed delighted by my childhood!

Instead of Going to a Therapist I Am Writing This

I resisted the urge last night to ask Eric to help me in the kitchen.

We had 10 minutes until the sister missionaries arrived for dinner

and the kitchen counters were covered with bowls, pots, pans, and cutting boards,

I didn't have a single dish ready to be served

and I was tired of being interrupted by rambunctious boys on the trampoline.

I hate being late or making people wait on me.

I hate committing to something and not following through.

I hate that I create all these expectations for myself

and then feel so overwhelmed when I'm not living up to them.

And oh how much I hate and fight the fact that I fit into the stereotype of LDS women

who too often compare themselves to others.

I had imagined what dinner would look like and pictured a mostly cleaned up kitchen

when our guests arrived,

but that obviously would not be the case.

Usually, Eric is so great about jumping in and helping when I ask or give him a specific task.

I know he wouldn't have minded helping out,

but I swear he was hiding evil laughter and smiles as he watched me deal with the pressure 

I was putting on myself. 

I decided that in order to overcome my feelings

I would not ask for help.

I would do it all myself and that it would teach me

to relax and not stress out so much.

So when my heart was pounding and my stomach was sick 

because

gasp

I would not be ready on time.

I fought to deal with it.

And what do you know,

I survived.

Dinner was served 15 minutes late

the kitchen was a disaster

my hair was messy (-ier than usual).

But we did eat

and I forced myself to ignore the kitchen

and imagine that instead of a faded t-shirt and messy ponytail

I was flaunting a stylish up-do and outfit. 

I'm sure the sister missionaries could care less about any of the things

I was feeling anxiety over.

That's not the point though.

It is me who cares too much

if I am late or less than what I think I am capable of.

Maybe in ten years I'll read this in my blog book and

remember this moment as a turning point

in dealing with my expectations and unnecessary stress.

And I'll laugh because

by that time

I will be cooking gourmet meals every night and raising ten kids without ever raising my voice or losing my temper. I'll probably be ironing my husband's clothes, too.

Wallace Falls

I'm starting to worry about our goal to hike all 25 hikes out of our local hiking guide by the end of the year. We have 18 left and so we gotta get going on this. . . It worked out that it stopped raining on Memorial Day Monday so we could get out for a longer hike. We went to Wallace Falls and thought it was beautiful. Very crowded. But beautiful. I am just so impressed with our tough boys who hiked the almost 6 miles, and did it at a really fast pace. We were passing people on the way up and on the way down. The last mile and a half, Kacin started to drag. I kept him entertained with versions of Goldilocks and the Three Bears and The Three Little Pigs. I threw in a spiel at the end of each story about how they had made mistakes but repented and changed. Kyler asked if every story had to end in repentance. So I tried to leave that part off when I got to Little Red Riding Hood's tale. But Kyler said I hadn't finished. She still needed to repent.

Wallace Falls . . .