Saturday, February 25, 2012


Free at last.

This last nine weeks has been the hardest time ever. Work has been draining the life out of me.

I'm so glad I have a break. Three weeks of no work. And that is why I keep this job. 

Tuesday, February 14, 2012


I've been wanting to see the broadway musical Wicked forever.  FOR-Ev-ER! I finally just decided I was going to make it happen. So, when I knew that I would probably be going to visit the Fifield family in December, I called my sister Kristin to see if she wanted to go along. Of course she did! I think Kristin is pretty much my musical buddy. In 2010, we went to see The Lion King.  Anyway.

Kristin and I went to dinner at Olive Garden before the show and enjoyed their delicious soup, salad, and breadsticks. We also picked up some new socks across the street while we were waiting because who doesn't love new socks?! 

We drove to downtown Hollywood to the Pantages Theater.  I just have to say that Hollywood looks much more exciting at night! We were there a few months ago during the day, and it was just dirty and a little scary looking.  At night? Bright flashing lights, people dressed up, excitement in the air.  Wow. This is probably more true to what some people see in the movies or think of Hollywood.

We had pretty good seats, and we also had caramel popcorn, so I don't know how it could be much better.  The show was absolutely wonderful! My eyes were dying from lack of blinking because I couldn't take my eyes off of the show.  At intermission, I told my sis that I'd be happy if I had to leave now (not that I wanted to!). I'd listened to the music before, but seeing the whole show brought the rest of the story. I just loved it. I laughed and cried, and I hope to be able to see it again sometime in the future.  It was Wicked!

Monday, February 13, 2012


To be super short . . . .

One of my best friends growing up died this last weekend. For the longest time growing up, he was the peanut butter to my jelly. Just trust me on this one. I think that only a few people really understood our connection. That phone call from my sister took my breath away.

I am heart-broken. Even though I've only seen him a few times over the last few years, I miss his face. I think that we were soul mates, not the married kind, but definitely the connected kind.  In my heart, I think that when I get to the other side, he'll be one of the people that's there waiting.

Danny just had a love for life and his smile could light up a room. He was always fearless and adventurous. Whenever we did anything the slightest bit scary, daring, or crazy, he was behind it. He was the life of the party, and yet was a kind, caring, thoughtful, and gentle soul. Many years of my journals are filled with the silly things we did almost every day. Games, movies, puzzles, Lake Powell, dances, and just hiking up the canyon or around town. But mostly, we talked. About everything. He was a great listener and always had something to say. Always. For awhile there, we were pretty connected.

Walking into his viewing was the hardest thing I think I've had to do. Ever.  I felt so alone in my grief. I thought I'd be okay, but as soon as I got out of the car, loss hit me like a train. I was sobbing. (Grown woman sobbing. I'm positive it wasn't pretty.) I had to walk around the block before I could even go up the steps.  Seeing, hugging, and talking with his family was comforting but I couldn't get myself together at all.   The family prayer, funeral, and burial was more of the same. I just can't help but wear my emotions on my sleeve. It's just part of who I am.  I was grateful most of my family could be there too. I know they were sad also. Most of my feelings are in my private blog (You didn't know I had one, did you?! Surprise!), and that's where they will stay. Even though I have an eternal perspective, today, I am human. And I'm grieving a life lost. Suffice it to say, burying one of my dearest friends was and still is hard to endure.

The day after the funeral, I was sitting at the table with my nephew, Dante, making play dough cookies.  Nobody else was around, and I was just kind of lost in my thoughts as he was playing.  He said to me, "Michelle. Grandma told me that your friend died and it makes you really sad. I'm sorry."  I told him that it was true, and I was sad, but that it was okay.  Looking back, it would have been a wonderful time to talk with him more, but I just wasn't in the frame of mind. What a cute little guy--so sensitive to the feelings of others around him--who is so willing to tell it how it is.  I'd been trying to hide my sadness from them, and to have a three year old say that just touches my heart.  Love that kid.

I spent many hours the next day with Danny's family. Talking, laughing, reliving old memories, and catching up on life. It was good for my soul.  It was as if things had never changed; their family is my family. I think when you can not see someone for awhile, but it's like nothing has changed, that's something special.  They talked about how special our relationship always was and how much we meant to each other. In their grief, they opened their arms to me, saw my own grief, and gave me comfort. I'll definitely be stopping by more often.  I love them a lot.

Danny, I'll be missing you.

Daniel Dale Jenkins   Aug. 23-1982---Feb. 4, 2012

"We're meant to lose the people we love. How else would we know how important they are to us?"---from Benjamin Button