It's the end of the year as we know it. And I feel fine.

Welcome to the last day of the year. I was first thinking about how perfectly glad I am that 2008 is over (Ding-dong-the-witch-is-dead-style) but then I decided to change my paradigm and think about the beautiful things of 2008. Kind of like at a funeral and you didn’t really like the guy, but you feel you should say something nice about him anyways. Who am I to speak ill of a dead, or mostly dead year?

And thus, the premise of the very last

Good Word Wednesday of 2008:

What Made Life Beautiful In 2008

So what made your 2008 a beauty? Let’s say one more nice thing and throw a rose on the casket, shall we? Then turn our faces square into the sunny morning of 2009 because I just know it is going to be one freak awesome year.

Well, friends, tonight I fully intend to live it up. End 2008 with a bang. Martinelli’s, shrimp cocktail and 2009 here I come…See you all next year.

Annual After-Christmas Black River Trip:

As Told By Porter

Not the day right after Christmas, but it was the day after that (Molly: Dec. 27th). Well me and my dad and Haskel, my uncle, and my uncle Brawner (I called him B for short) left for our hunting trip. We went to Black River. But we actually didn't go to the river.

While we were looking for coyotes (we call them dogs for short), we saw elk crossing the road. We found four coyotes on a baby dead calf. They were eating the dead calf. Brawner took the first shot and then my dad took a shot at the coyote. Then Haskel drived me over to it with his truck. Then I got out of the truck and got my B.B. gun, the Red Rider, and cocked it and then my dad said for me to shoot the big gun, the 243, and then I put the scope too close to my head and then the scope bonked me right in the head when I took a shot. And now I'm getting black eyes. Then I got my B.B. gun, the Red Rider, and I shot the coyote in the brain and then it died.

Then I cut off the tail and the ears so I could have them from my first coyote kill. I think I'm making a hat out of the tail. I could get a piece of fabric and make a hat with the tail hanging out.

And then when we were coming back this guy stopped us because we were on his land (the Indian Res.) and said that my dad forgot his tickets to get in (permits -woops!) . While they were talking I found some ice, and it was clean ice, so I wanted to show my Uncle B and then I said, "B, come here." But he was still talking and I showed him that inside the ice I could see living creatures frozen inside the ice.

Then we got in the truck and went to get our tickets and then we got some fried pigeon meat (that would be fried chicken) for lunch. My Uncles and my dad had doughnuts. I hate those doughnuts. They were circles and had sugar on them.

Then we drove on the road for like two hours or three hours. It was four. Then I saw icicles on the side of the rock walls. Then we went on the road for like two more hours. Then we went to the spring and we drunk the water out of the spring. And it was beautiful.

After the spring we got some snow for my ouchie. Then we drove on the road for like ten more hours. Then my uncle Haskel's truck was really dirty. Really, really dirty. We saw this place called 'Car Wash' and we went to the car wash. My dad and everyone was hungry but I wasn't hungry so all I got was a hot cocoa. I drunk that almost all the way home, and then I let my dad finish it all the way home. Then all the food was gone from Taco Bell and I was hungry. Then I got to my cousins house and I showed everyone my coyote tail. They were like "Eeeewww". Then we drove dad's truck home with my coyote tail. Then when we got home I was starving. I ate Ramen Noodles, but my dad put too much water in it.

In the morning I showed my mom my scar and she's like, "You're gunna have a black eye tomorrow!" And then after that I really only have gray eyes. And now I'm writing this story today.

If anyone needs me; I'll be cleaning up wrapping paper, installing new batteries, combing 'My Little Pony' hair, reading new books, having hot cocoa parties, watching race cars hit my walls, picking up random game pieces, stepping on princess castle parts, re-dressing dolls, or just maybe I'll be taking a nap.

And if I am taking a nap, please stop by later, because that's when I'll be busy...

Good Word Wednesday

Merry Christmas, my friends. May you keep the love and joy and hope of Christmas in your heart all year long.

Porter turned seven on Friday without ever looking back at six.

Ah-So (Benihana wanna-be, but just as great) was a huge success with the kids. Turns out they both like sushi. The Japanese chef really hammed it up for London who couldn't take her eyes off of him. Porter felt so important that his food was getting cooked just as he wanted it right in front of him. He even got extra rice for being the Birthday Boy and the waitresses sang to him a Japanese birthday song that was interesting but sung with excitment (and visions of high tipping dancing in their heads).

Then we visited the Grandparents and Porter made out like a bandit with the gifts. I really did make a chocolate bunt cake; but Port just wanted to eat it so badly he didn't care that I hadn't any birthday candles on hand yet, so I didn't care about getting any pictures. We'll have pictures of teppanyaki rice and steak instead this year.

We positioned the bike before we left for dinner so that I could first come in the house and get into place to capture the look of elation on Porter's face when he walked in and saw the shiny blue bike with red ribbon.

Uh...it didn't quite go as planned. We were out in Mesa a lot later than expected and this is why Port's in his jams (we bring them along when we know we'll be out late in town and change before the ride home). I thought Porter would spring to life again after we woke him up and told him we saw a package on the front porch. It turned out to be a darling dish of carmel corn from my hip Visiting Teachers, so it didn't stir him quite as much as it would have if it had been from our S.S.

Anyhoo, he walked in the house half-asleep and walked right by the shiny blue bike with red ribbon. Right by me saying, "Port! What do you see?!" Then crash landed on the sofa.

It wasn't until the next morning when he stumbled out of his bedroom that he realized he wasn't dreaming and that he really did get his birthday wish of a new bike. He put on his shoes and took it for a spin before breakfast.

Sunday night was the annual Richards Family Musical. A tradition held since my pops was a young'n. Porter was asked to be Joseph in the Nativity Play. He took the part very seriously and used a nativity set we have to base his costume on. He even studied the way Joseph was standing. If there were Oscars for Best Supporting Role in the Nativity Play, I'm sure he'd get nominated. Baby Jesus, however, was portrayed by a stuffed dog and I think his chances are slim this year.

Well, gang, it's official. No. It was actually official on night one. We have the most amazingly generous Secret Santa in all of Secret Santa History.

Yes. I know what you're thinking. Anyone who can dedicate twelve consecutive nights to purchase and assemble gifts accompanied with clever sayings and make the delivery undiscovered is pretty spanking awesome. And you are totally correct, my friend. But, seriously. Our front porch has been the drop spot for some pretty rad (and I mean rad!) gifts these past eight nights; but I can't even begin to describe the gift of love and care and thoughtfulness that they have brought into our home. Porter can hardly lay his head down at night because he tries so hard to stay awake and be the first to open the door when the bell rings (Oh! If only I could record him jumping out of bed and thundering down the hall to the front door!). In our family prayers, around night three, Porter blessed the Secret Santa not to forget about us and prayed that their sled would work right for them. This unknown giver has shown my family love and brought such a feeling of hope and excitement at the end of every day.

So. Remember how I wanted to do something Christmas-themed the last twelve days before Christmas to help my family feel the Christmas spirit and draw closer to Christ? Well, I've been taught that there's a better way. We've been reading a Christmas story or two every night before we tuck the kids in bed, and just about every story is about giving to others or preforming service for those in need. This year, our family is the one being given to and the receiver of unselfish service. President Monson said it best here: "If we are to have the very best Christmas ever, we must listen for the sound of sandaled feet. We must reach out for the Carpenter's hand. With every step we take in His footsteps, we abandon a doubt and gain a truth."

Our S.S. has given me a gift that didn't appear on my doorstep. They have taught me the best way to feel the Christmas spirit and draw closer to Christ. It is through service, sacrifice and giving that we can truly feel the love of our Savior, Jesus Christ, in our heart and in our family. This is how we can have that Christmas spirit in our homes all year long.

I wish I could repay our giver. Or at least tell them how much they mean to me. How much joy they bring to our family; not only by the wonderful surprises they leave, but just knowing that someone was inspired to think of us. To think that the Reynolds family might need a little extra Christmas cheer this year. And then they actually bring it. Straight to our front door.

How do I show our appreciation without spoiling the magic of the secret? The only way I can think of is to become a giver, also. To continue the chain of service. I want to be that messenger of such Christmas cheer into a family's home next year. Not for glory. But because I want others to know the joy and love and hope and happiness that my family has known because of our Giver this year.

To be able to give, and only receive the knowledge that others feel the love of Christ in their home and hearts, would be all that I could ask for.

..............................................................

On night four (?), maybe it was five, a Gingerbread House kit was given.

We had so much fun creating the sugary structure. It wasn't so much the house itself that this gift created; but also time spent together laughing and eating and getting super sticky and just being really, really happy. Olen documented the occasion and I helped with the initial framing. After that, the kids did the rest. Mostly Porter. London is my Sweet Baby and just kept eating our building materials.

It turned out perfectly. You certainly can't say it lacks character. It even has a "muscleman-snowman" on top. Just in case the neighbors get out of hand. It is a neighborhood made up of candy houses, ya know. Things are bound to get rowdy. Or so the story goes according to Porter.

Flashback Friday!

Whoa. Watch out. I feel a big flashback coming on...because...today is my Little Love, my Shuggie, my Honey Bunny, my Lamb, my Porter's 7th Birthday!

The day was December 19th, 2001. Olen had just left the night before to go on a 24-hour late season elk hunt. We were living in Flagstaff and I was working full-time at Bank One. I woke up that morning feeling funny, but brushed it off as just feeling homesick for Olen. Went to work anyways.

My due date was January 21st, 2002. I was gi-freaking-normous and my doctor told me I would for sure need to have the baby at least two-weeks early or else my baby boy could grow to be twelve pounds at the rate he was putting on weight every week. Uh...didn't want that. So I was making plans with the bank for my last day to be in about three weeks from then.

It was a Wednesday. I had to run to the post office on my lunch break, to mail my brother-in-law's Christmas package. I grabbed a chicken quesadilla from Taco Bell (I couldn't eat there for four years after this day. Made an unwelcome reappearance during labor.). Eh-hem.

When I came back to work, my back was hurting more than usual. A new hurt. Then at 1:17pm, my water broke. Broke right as I was leaving the girl's restroom. Luckily, it was a private restroom, no bank customers. I walked very slowly over to my manager, Julia's, desk ( a sassy Latina who is also an angel) and told her my situation. She completely freaked out. I told her my husband was out of town. She freaked again. Latina style, you know what I mean. So we called my mom who was out shopping two and a half hours away in Mesa, where all my family lived. Then I called my sister-in-law, Valerie, because it was her husband that Olen was hunting with in some remote forest hours away. Those boys didn't have a cell phone, or service, in whatever woods they were in hunting that stupid elk; so she graciously offered to go out and look for them. The hunters became the hunted.

Well, the next thing to do was get me to the hospital. Julia drove me to the hospital and checked me in. I got a waiting room and then the flowers my dad ordered via phone to the Flagstaff Medical Center gift shop were delivered. It was the first time I understood that I may have my son without any family there to squeeze my hand.

But, no. Guardian Angels helped fly my mom to Flagstaff in under two-hours (this is seriously a miracle because it was nearing rush hour on the I-17) . Julia stayed till my mom was there and then kissed both my cheeks and demanded I call the bank when the baby came. Which was less than two hours later. Perfect as can be.

Porter was born five weeks early at 7 pounds 6 ounces, 19 inches. Olen finally made it back to camp and called the hospital about ten o'clock that night.

He said, "Love, is everything okay? Val just told me to call you at the hospital!"

I said, "Yeah, everything is fine. You're just a daddy now, that's all."

Olen finally met his son at one o'clock in the morning the next day.

New rule. No going anywhere three months before the due date. Hunting season. Fishing tournaments. Nothing. It's baby season, honey, and you're not going anywhere. Now nod your head. Good boy.

This was taken just a week before Porter came.

Was I a whale of a tale, or what?! Well, I felt like I was, anyways.

He seemed so small. But didn't stay that way for long.

In the hospital, I had nurses coming into our room to see "the 7-pound preemie"!

Porter always has had a good-sized noggin to hold all his clever brains.

Check out that gleam!

But always happy. What a wonderfully happy baby.

I thought I got a blond-haired, green-eyed baby boy. But by eighteen months Porter's eyes had turned brown, and every year his hair grows darker and darker. Olen teases me that it's my Navajo blood that is responsible for our chocolate-drop-eyed kids. And, well, I'd have to agree with him on that one. Thank you great great great grandma Meraboots.

Porter's motto: Dirt never hurt.

All boy. All the time.

...Unless your Aunties move in the apartment next door and babysit you while Mommy is out... Ha! Girls, I'd love to see you try this one now!

It was just the three of us for the first four and a half years of Porter's life. We had two "almosts", and continued praying that our little family would grow and we could be blessed with more children. But until that day we just kept living and loving the joy that is Porter.

Really digging my hair right here...hum...

Porter loves to be outdoors. Any place as long as it is outside.

He also loves fishing with his Dadda.

Which is good because his Momma likes to catch a tan when she goes to the lake, not so much fish.

Great at sports and all things involving running, kicking, sweating and high-fiving.

Then...May 2006...Porter's best friend finally showed up.

Without skipping a beat, these two picked up right where they left off.

Life got a whole new kind of perfect.

December 19, 2007 - Porter's 6th Birthday.

Porter doesn't like sweet foods, but he makes an exception for ding-dongs.

This is the cake he asked for. How great is that?

This year he asked for "the kind of cake that is in a circle". Bunt cake.

And that brings us up to date.

Thanks for joining me on this walk down Flashback Lane. It's one of my most favorite walks because it's also the anniversary of the day I became a mom.

Porter asked us for a pistol (what the what?!) for his birthday and we said "Never". So instead he's getting a football and the new shoes he wanted in the morning before school. Then as per tradition, the birthday person chooses the restaurant to eat out at and we all go as a family. Porter chose Ah-So. We've never taken him with us before and he is peeing-his-pants excited. Olen can't wait to introduce him to sushi. I can't wait to see how that goes. Then we'll visit grandparents and then head back home.

At home Olen and I will have his real birthday present sitting out (because we needed the football to practice flag football moves and he just needed new shoes). It's a bike. A beautiful blue big-kid style bike. He is going to absolutely wig out. And I can't wait.