Sunday: Family History

In RS this year, we've been asked to write our own history for our family.
Mostly, the people in my ward are elderly, so I imagine it's to get them to do it before they

kick the bucket croak keel over
pass on, with all those cool family stories left untold.

But I decided to do it, too.

So here is my first assignment:

Me.

I was born in Indio, California in October 1968.

When I tell people that, they usually have no clue where that is.

It's near Palm Springs.

In Riverside County.

In the Coachella Valley, of Southern California.

(I felt a bit like Bugs Bunny saying that.)

Famous for their Date Festivals.

Thrilling.

This year is my 40th birthday.

It doesn't bother me ... much.

The only time it does is when I realize how fast I raced through my 30's.

I was so busy changing diapers, homeschooling, travelling, and managing my family that I feel like I blinked and went from my 20's straight to my 40's.

A gal at work was talking about her "middle aged brother" who, incidently, is 42.

Yikes.

I'm middle aged... almost.

I digress...

My name:

My parents just liked it.

I'm not really named for anyone.... although I think my mom has an aunt or cousin or something with my middle name. But other than that... There is no significance in my name, except my parents liked it. :)

I spent the majority of my life hating the name.

Mostly, I hated it because people used a derrogitory, close-sounding name, for it instead.

It's spelled the masculine way, which throws most people off because it actually looks more feminine than the other spelling.....and I spent a lot of time correcting people's spelling of my first name.
Don't even get me started on my Maiden Name. Oi-vey.

About the time I married my husband, I learned I didn't mind my first name so much. In fact, I realized that it bugged me more when people used a "z" sound instead of an "s" sound, but other than that, I was more tolerant of the name.

I like the unique-ness of my name nowadays.
I've only known a handful of people with my name over the years.

In grade school, I thought it a curse that no one else ever had my name.

It was like a status or something.

To have another person share your name meant: such a cool name that everyone wanted to name their kid that. Therefore, because no one shared my name meant: I was a loser with sucha lame first name.

Isn't that lame?

I grew up the oldest of 8 kids and military... moving about every 3 years, living mostly in Germany(In fact, I lived in Germany half of my first 35 years)...but also Texas, Georgia, Nebraska, Arizona and California...and did that through my 20's and 30's as well, since I married a military man....where we lived in Colorado, Germany 2 more times, California, Texas, and Kansas. Now we live in Utah.

Where I never, in a million years, EVER wanted to live.

But it's aight.

I'm finding things I can like.

I met my husband in Germany.

Where he was stationed.

After I swore an oath never to EVAH EVAH EVAH marry a military man.

I never wanted to put my kids through the ever moving life of the military family.

Yeah.

Now I look at it as a blessing that I grew up the way I did.... for so many reasons.

1)I have experience of so many different lifestyles.

2)I was prepared for the hardships of a military spouse.

3)I saw places that most people only DREAM of.
4)I have such a passion for new adventures.

5) Change works for me.

This picture of me (above--in the pink dress) was taken in Kindergarten.

I remember L.O.V.I.N.G. this dress.

I also remember my mother got tired of me wearing it all.the.time.

In fact, the memory I have of this day is that my mom thought the dress was wayyyyyy too small and that after this picture, I had to give it up.

I was crushed.

For, like, a WHOLE day.

My favorite color was pink... since birth practically.

Pale, soft, feminine pink.

All the way up until I hit 30 or so.
Now? It's Yellow.
Only not the obnoxious goldie-yellow's.
The soft buttercream and pale buttercup yellows.

I was a typical 80's teen....

I thought I was having SUCH a great hair day in this picture.

*sigh*

In the 80's... people matched stuff.

Like their shirts, socks, and um... underwear.

With our Levi™ skin-tight-jeans.

ONLY BUTTON-UP fly... never Zipper. Ew.

And STRAIGHT LEGGED- alltheway,baby.

why we ever matched our underwear to our shirts and socks is still a mystery to me.

My friend, Patti, and I had quite a few matching shirts.
And socks.
And underwear.
We also had a matching whistle necklace.
Why?
I have no idea.
I still have the whistle part to this day.
And think of her when I see it in my jewlery box.
We became friends after so many people confused us with each other.
We looked like we could be sisters.
She has 9 or 10 kids now.

yeah.

I can't believe it, either.

We also wore 2 earings in each ear...

and I can still remember when I pierced a 3rd hole in only my left ear.

My parents went nuts.

I was on a swimteam once in high school.

I didn't love it....mostly because it took away the joy of swimming for recreation.

And this, sweet friends, is the only time I looked so terrific in a bathing suit.

And can you believe---I thought I was FAT!?

I seriously looked at this picture when we got them back... and thought,

"I am so flippin' fat. I look like a big fat heiffer."

Oh, if I could only be that fat, again.