The Fabulous Family Freeman

Remember Us?

2010-08-23T18:02:00.000-07:00

Wow. It's been more than a year since I've done anything with this blog. I keep swearing I'm going to get back to it, but there's always something more pressing. Why today? Well, my nephew has a fabulous blog that I thought I'd send a shout-out about if I had a blog, and then I thought,well, I do. I just need to resuscitate it.

So, here is a plug for Single Dad Laughing at danoah.com. As you might have guessed, Dan is recently divorced with one son, acclimating himself to his new marital status while keeping it on the light side. Today's post, 'VIDEO: Danoah's Top 12 Facebook Pet Peeves' is laugh-out-loud funny and well worth the shout-out. Check it out. You'll find yourself coming back for more.

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My Guys, August 1, 2009

As for us, here are the major talking points for the Freemans over the past two years:

Here's a little story about it, complete with illustrations.

In the spring of 2008, Adam and Ariane built a house in Richmond, Texas, which is about a 45-minute drive southwest of us.

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On May 4, 2008, in the Houston Texas Temple, Dallas II (D2) married Lynda Maureen, daughter of Dean and Deana Richmond, of the Cypress-Fairbanks area of Houston, Texas. D2 and Lynda lived in Provo, UT, for the first two years of their marriage while they attended BYU.

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With Ariane's unfaltering support, Adam graduated from University of Houston Downtown in June of 2009, with a major in supply chain management. He is currently the logistics manager for Tornier, Inc., an international medical implant company.

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On August 1, 2009, Paul married Desireé Rose, daughter of Jeff and Leslie Nordin of Spring, Texas. We have been very fortunate that all three of our boys found lovely, amazing, temple-worthy and local girls to make their wives. They are a delight. Paul and Desireé live in Rexburg, Idaho, while they attend BYU-I. Paul is slated to finish his bachelor's degree in communications and English in July of 2011. He hopes to start law school in the fall of 2011.

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On October 6, 2009, Abram Glen added his name to Adam, Ariane, Alora, and Aaron to upgrade the A4's to A5. Abram is a delight!

Abram at four days old.

The really cool pictures of Abram are courtesy of Melanie Ashcraft Photography. Here is a link to her Facebook page. The borning, normal pictures are just by me.

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On April 23, 2010, D2 graduated from BYU with a bachelor's degree in mechanical engineering. He then garnered a full scholarship to Texas A&M to earn his master's degree in (probably) biomechanical engineering. He formally begins school next week. From there, the sky's the limit!

The imposing Administration building on the campus of Texas A&M, College Station, Texas.

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What's up next? Well, let me tell ya!

Paul and Desireé are expecting a little girl, hopefully on or before September 5th. (Two weeks!! Ack!!!) They refuse to commit themselves to a name by discussing it with anyone. They want to meet our new little miss before deciding if the name they have chosen fits. Also, Paul and Desireé are very private. Don't look for any pictures posted on Facebook. They have their own blog, Isle of Bliss (myisleofbliss.com) where they post their pictures and announcements.

We are really excited, but it's going to be rough being long-distance grandparents. Webcam to the rescue! Still, it's not the same as cuddling the warm little bundle, grazing your finger over her cheek, and fluffing her feathery hair. Ah, well. We've been really blessed with having our kids so close. I guess we'll take our licks like everyone else—hopefully, with good grace. And, there's always crocheted afghans and shawls to establish a presence, right?

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Adam and Ariane are expecting a boy on December 7th. This will be child #4, son #3, and he will be 14 months younger than Abram.

Alora has resigned herself to the sister-less situation, although on the day of the ultrasound, she cried all the way from the doctor's office to the Chick-Fillet. Oh well. They can always try for a girl next time.

As for a name—your guess is as good as anyone else's. Parameters are: 1) has to start with A; 2) has to have some reference to a biblical, Book of Mormon, or Church History prophet or spiritual leader/role model; 3) cannot be gender ambiguous; and 4) cannot harbor the potential for torment as the child grows up. For instance, Abram was not named 'Abraham' because Adam did not want him to be called Hammy should he slide into prepubescent chubbiness.

Personally, I think Ammon answers the requirements of all four, everyone likes it, but #5 may be the deal-breaker: 5) it cannot be too near in sound/pronunciation to any of the other names already established. Ariane thinks having an Ammon and an Aaron would be too difficult, but I think that boat's already floated.

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D2 and Lynda are due on February 9, 2011. This is especially cool because they've struggled for the past two years hoping and praying that this would happen. Now, we're going to have triplet-cousins (or, trousins as my family calls it). Fun, fun, fun. College Station is only about a 90-minute drive from here, so, we'll enjoy having Grandbaby #6 close (gender yet to be determined), at least until D2 finishes his master's degree.

As you can see, the Freemans are taking the commandment to multiply and replenish the earth quite seriously!

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As for Dallas and I, we're just along for the ride. We're loving spoiling the grandkids and doing all the doting grandparent stuff. (Could we possibly be more cliché?) Dallas is keeping busy at work, and I'm just keeping busy. Life is good, love and faith are strong, and our blessings are beyond number.

And, that's all I've got! Thanks for reading this far. Next time, I'll try to come up with something more entertaining.

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Final note: the amazing wedding pictures are all courtesy of Condiff Photography. April and Mark are fantastic photographers and artists, and I'd say that even if we hadn't been friends for more than 15 years. They shot all three of our weddings. Here is one of Paul and Desireé that graces all their advertising. Here is their Facebook page.

And, what the heck. As long as we're plugging them, here's a picture they did of Adam and Ariane's wedding.

An Apostle's Easter Thoughts on Christ

2009-04-10T18:46:00.001-07:00

This sacred Easter season, may the words of the Lord's apostle and witness of Him sink into our hearts and change our lives because of the infinite Atonement and unconditional love of our Savior, Jesus Christ

Mormon Messages: Why Mormons Build Temples

2009-03-11T19:31:00.001-07:00

A must see for members and non-members alike, but especially for members who need to untwist their stomachs after this week's developments.

Uncle Paul Takes a Nap

2008-12-19T08:40:00.001-08:00

This had gone on so long, I decided to take pictures, but the pictures didn't quite capture the feeling, so I just had to take some video.

"What's going on here?!"

Link of the Week: Cypress Creek FACE presents FREE

2008-11-14T20:33:00.000-08:00

The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.

A.D. Players production of The Lion, The Witch, & The Wardrobe | Cypress Creek FACE

If you haven't discovered FACE: Foundation for the Arts & Community Enrichment, take a few minutes to check out their website. Based at the Cypress Creek Church and Community Center, they're the folks that bring the Houston Symphony to the Spring/Klein area, as well as various professional touring musicians and actors. They also provide several great children's programs which are free. On January 31st, they are featuring the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, a live production. Admission is free.

We have the wonderful privilege of FACE in our community which makes the Arts accessible both in location and in price. Support their efforts, take advantage of what they have to offer, and enjoy!

Miracles Great and Small

2008-11-13T08:35:00.001-08:00

Letter written to Elder Matt Courtright of the Olde Oaks Ward October 20, 2008

Dear Elder Courtright,

It was great to here from you so quickly once you got into the MTC. I was not expecting an email from you at all. When Paul was there, he had to use the snail mail until he actually got to Samoa. At any rate, it's great. Check on your regulations and see if it's okay for us to correspond in this fashion. I think there may be a rule about immediate family only, but check and see.

Everything is going well here. Your mom wrote Bishop Duke a very gracious thank-you note which he read in Sacrament meeting yesterday. It's great to know how pleased she is with you and proud of you, and grateful that you have joined the Church. I'm certain you've been told this time and time again, but your mission will bless your family in more ways than you can ever expect.

We had a little miracle of our own on Friday. Paul got home on Tuesday, and on Friday he went with my husband and I to go get wood for repairing the fence. We stopped at the McD's down at Kuykendahl and FM 1960, and as we were standing there, Paul slipped into missionary mode and started talking to the two gargantuan construction workers who were standing in line behind him. They got to chatting about the project, about Paul just returning from CA, just about anything, and the guys were really friendly and talkative. They asked Paul what he was doing now, and he said he was pretty much looking for work. The biggest guy said, "Hey! Go over to the corner and talk to the white guy, and he'll give you a job!" They did a pretty good job of convincing him it was worth the effort, and when we sat down to lunch, Paul's dad said, "Son, opportunities like this just don't happen." It was a gift, we were guided there (we VERY rarely go to McD's and had been planning on going to a real restaurant for lunch), and Paul was inspired to talk to the guys.

So, after lunch, we were leaving at the same time the construction workers were, and they again encouraged him to get over there and talk to Ralph. We got over there, Ralph was exactly where they told him he would be (conveniently out standing on the street corner, rather than in an office somewhere), Paul talked to him for about five minutes, and came back to the car with the job. We then had to drive to the opposite side of town (think as far down 59 as you get get and still be in Harris County) so Paul could go to the company office and fill out the proper paperwork. The fact that we could do that itself was a miracle because it was Friday and my husband should have been at work, but he had taken a day off to take care of some business, and we actually had a car to make the trip. Also, we had time enough to get down there, fill out the paperwork, and get to the clinic where Paul had to take a drug test before they all closed, and Paul could start to work on Monday.

Which brings us to the next miracle. Dallas had totally trashed his bike before he went on his mission, so it had gone to the dumpster long since. Then, we gave Paul's bike to Hannah when she needed one. So, Paul came home with absolutely no money in the bank and no wheels under him. Adam was going to give him his old car he bought when he got home from his mission, but he just found out that it needs a new transmission, that would be worth more than the car itself. So, we've been in kind of a fret about how Paul could get to work once he actually found a job. But, once we returned from our little jaunt all over town, (we made a huge circle going down 45 & 59, then coming back on Sam Houston Tollway), Paul did some deep probing in our garage and came up with Adam's old bike that he bought for his mission. It was a long shot, but Paul pulled it out and inspected it, and everything is in working order. All we had to do was replace the inner tubes, tires, and grips. (you have to understand that it went through Adam's entire mission from 2000-2002, and everything it's suffered since then. If you end up needing to purchase a bike on your mission, get a Liahona). Paul fixed it up, and voila! He has wheels. And, especially because he was in a bike area during his last transfer, biking down to FM 1960 is nothing. My big concern is the traffic on Kuykendahl and the fact that it's dark when he has to go (he reports at 7am), but, hopefully changing back to standard time in a couple of weeks will fix that for a bit. Besides which, I just bought a headlamp to put into our 72-hour kit, and how he can use that.

So, all in all, we have truly been blessed and you can see how the Lord looks after his servants. I am certain you will see many such miracles, both great and small, during the next two years. Just keep an eye out for them. They happen every day. When you see them, you will know every more strongly how much Heavenly Father loves you and that he will continue to bless you as you serve him, and your heart will swell with gratefulness and praise for him. If you learn this while you're on your mission, you will have learned the key to living a good and happy life, because gratitude is the essence of joy.

So, do good, work hard, have faith, and rejoice!

love,

Sister Freeman

Caution: To-Do List

2008-10-01T11:20:00.000-07:00

September 30, 2008

Dear Son,

First of all: you have jury duty on Tuesday, October 21st, at 8:00 am. If you want to have the date reset, you need to visit http://www.hcdistrictclerk.com, or email jury@hcdistrictclerk.com, or you could just keep the date. Chances are, you’ll sit there all day waiting to be called up, and either they won’t call you at all or you won’t make the jury selection. Dad actually got called into the jury room, but he never made it to the witness stand, and that was his turn. He didn’t have to come back. I got a doctor’s excuse and Dallas got a full-time student exemption, so, you’re the last one up.

If you do decide to reset the date, you should do it today. Your juror number is #1475-21. There’s also a number above that which is HC14982736. I don’t know whether or not you’ll need to enter that. Your juror number, DOB, and SSN should be plenty, I would think. I know it’s more difficult to do this without the actual notice, but, whattayagonnado?

Second: you should received my note about Grandpa’s DNA test and changing your ethnicity on your Route Y profile to include his Polynesian father. I’m not certain if that will affect your admissions consideration, but it’s better to have that on there than not. Also, to figure out the financial aid thing (for the 2009 fall/winter semester), visit http://multicultural.byu.edu. There’s a button in the bottom left-hand corner that says ‘financial aid’. Finally, the admission notifications won’t go out until October 15th, so stop pacing in front of the mailbox.

Third: Alan Ricker has started a fence-building business. He wants to know if you can come home two weeks early. Seriously, I don’t think you’ll need to be looking for a job if you’re willing to work with Alan and if he manages to get this thing off the ground. He shouldn’t have too much trouble. There are a lot of fences to be rebuilt. If that doesn’t pan out, Adam has visions of you living with them and working in the warehouse at Tornier while you’re here. You’ll be here for two whole months, and I want you here, not in Richmond . . . but, that’s just me. Brother Ricker alludes to the work crews now going down into Galveston when he says you’re just in time to get reacquainted with a chain saw.

So, hey! We finally got power, if you can believe it. It was out for two weeks, 20 hours, and 33 minutes, but I didn’t really count or anything. I won’t go through the whole exciting narrative of the power getting back on. If you haven’t already, you can visit the photos I posted on Facebook: Ike was Here, and Ike was Here, Week 2. The second batch of pictures are a lot more interesting. They actually have people in them. I’ve also posted videos on YouTube and embedded them in the family blog. If you saw those from two weeks ago, I promise, those I posted Sunday are not quite so lame—pretty lame, but not quite so much. It shows an electric company truck backing into our back yard to fix up the power lines, so it’s kind of interesting to watch it slalom through the pine trees.

On a sad note, our banana tree we planted last fall lost in a game of chicken with the power truck. The littlest banana tree actually bounced back from having the fence fall on it, but it’s mama is now a banana smoothie. Sister Paruszewski says that it’s possible the roots may send up shoots again, but that poor think looks ready for banana bread.

On a side note: the last couple of pictures from ‘Ike was Here’ were the reason I couldn’t write to you last week. I was under house arrest. I asked both Dallas and Adam to send you a note explaining the situation, but I don’t know if either of them made it in time to catch you.

What happened was, the morning of the 17th when I walked over to the Lewises to send you an email, I had already started to break out in a bumpy-skin rash sort of thing that was just weird and curious, but not red or alarming. Then, I strolled around in the sun for a while, enjoying the heavenly weather.

Then, Thursday morning I woke up and my right eye had completely swollen shut (the one picture is after a day of steroids), so I got Ginger to take me to Fillman’s office and saw his PA. As I said, she gave me a shot of steroids, then gave me more to take by mouth, and then gave me some super heavy duty antihistamines to treat for an allergic reaction which Fillman diagnosed when he came in to consult on my extreme case of hives. The swelling in my eye had gone down that evening, but the rash continued to spread and was driving me crazy with the itching. I won’t say the antihistamines made absolutely no difference, but I would really hate to have felt what it would have been like if they did and I hadn’t taken them. As it was, I basically had to lie there with an cold compress over my eyes with melted ice water from the cooler. If we hadn’t have had that ice, I would have gone stark raving mad.

The next morning, I pretty much looked like the second picture, where the hives receded but the rash had continued to spread all over my face and was working on all my sun-exposed areas. I called and left a message for the PA (who was out that day), and was answered by another PA who said to just give the steroids a chance to work. I told the go-between that I needed something topical or something because the antihistamine wasn’t enough and I was ready to claw out my eyeballs. She finally conceded the point and called out some Atarax which is a major anti-itch thing that is supposed to zonk you out when you take it. No such luck, but it did enable me to sleep, which I hadn’t done for a couple of nights, so that was good.

Anyway, by the time Sunday rolled around and I went to church (we just had Sacrament meeting), wherever the hives had been on my face started peeling like a really bad sunburn and I looked absolutely atrocious. Then, because it was all around my eyes, I couldn’t help but brush the stuff away from my eyes which I’m sure was quite charming, especially when I talked to anyone, and, of course, it continued to itch. So, Dad put his foot down because I was causing him no little concern, and I thought better of walking over to anywhere to write you a letter, even the Paruszewskis or the Suttons. I was actually starting to get it under control and the last thing I wanted was a relapse.

So, here I am another week later, still with the irritated eyes and the lupus rash on my cheekbones. However, it’s a lot less noticeable. I’m pretty certain that it was the same old lupus rash, but my eye swelled up like it did (which it had never done before) because the rash spread right up to my lashes. I’m not entirely convinced that my eyes themselves weren’t affected, as my vision seems to be worse than it was before. Of course, that could be from the steroids, so I’ll give it a few more weeks before I start to panic. I had it really bad on my left hand and wrist and the skin there is particularly damaged, and I think the skin around my eyes never will look the same again, but, I’ll give that some time as well and either resign myself to it or become incredibly vain and spend way too much money on skin restoratives. Between you and me, I’m placing my bets on the first.

We managed to survive pretty well without electricity. It’s funny. The first week, we spent a lot of time cursing ourselves for the reflexive responses that have become physical memory, like flipping switches for lights and fans, using can openers, etc, etc, etc. The second week, we had begun to settle into the routine of going without. Dad bought flashlights and batteries every time he went to the store, I convinced him that 40 lbs of ice a day wasn’t outrageous. One day, although I asked him to bring me home four bags, he said we needed two, but maybe he’d bring three. Three he brought home, but instead of 10-lb bags, he got 20-lb bags and was feeling rather sheepish, but I managed to make use of it all.

In the averted catastrophe category: the day before, Letitia came over to help out with some housework, and I set her to scrubbing down the refrigerator which was a HUGE job. Then, I hauled all the laundry over to the Suttons because it had been more than a week since we had washed anything and it was definitely time to do something about it. In her cleaning process, Letitia spread out all the glass shelves and plastic drawers and shelves she had already cleaned all over the kitchen floor because, well, it was the best place to put them and she had just mopped the floor. You know how wretched is our counter top space, and she had totally dissembled the fridge, so, with her there by herself, it really made all the sense in the world. Besides which, if they were already on the floor, they couldn’t fall off a counter and break the glass, right?

Unfortunately, I had kept the car home that day so that I could deal with the laundry, the laundry took me a quantum increase of time at the Suttons’ with their 20-year-old small-capacity washer and electric dryer. Instead of four loads, I had six or seven. Instead of 20-30 minutes drying, it took an hour, at the very least. So, although I went over at one o’clock which I thought was ample time to get finished, by four, I was scarcely half-way. So, I went home, grabbed Letitia and took her home, then high-tailed it over to HP to pick up your dad by 4:45. Unfortunately, scarcely half the traffic lights were working, so it was nearly five when I got there.

Dad was a good sport about it. We stopped at Whataburger on the way home, I ate, and then was back to the Suttons by 6:30 pm, but it was nearly 10 o’clock before I got home. Even then, I just dragged all the jeans out of the dryer half wet and took them. It was late. I was tired. I stared at the disassembled fridge on the floor, and Dad said to just leave it there.

So, the next morning before he went to work, Dad figured out how to take the cover off the water coil in the back of the bottom of the fridge which is a bunch of poly-tubing wound up like a hose which allows a small quantity of water to cool before it comes out of the fridge door. I’d never been able to get it off before. It really needed cleaning. Actually, the coil needs replacing, but, then again, the whole fridge needs replacing. As Letitia was cleaning out the fridge, she came up with the brilliant idea that her family would give ours the old fridge they had in their garage because ours was broken all over the place. Funny how you are so used to things as they are, you don’t even think about how they appear to other people. But, looking at it from the outside, I admit, it’s pretty banged up, and 14 years may be considered life expectancy for a refrigerator these days, but it certainly wasn’t when I was a kid. If it didn’t last 30, it was a piece of junk.

Anyway, I spent the better part of the morning on Wednesday feeling guilty about not writing you and spraying the coil with Clorox intermittently to soften all the stuff that needed to be softened. Then, I got it all cleaned up nifty keen-o clean, and let it sit to dry. The last thing I wanted was to start another mold culture in there by trapping the wet inside.

Dad came home with 60 lbs of ice. We both ceased thinking of the refrigerator guts spread all over the kitchen. We have been using one of the Paruszewskis’ coolers (not the big white one, but a smaller blue one. Not as small as our blue one, but bigger. You can fit 40 lbs of ice in it easily). The thing was filled with water and ice, soft drinks, milk, and bottled water. Ignoring the pull-out handle, the wheels, and the drain plug in the bottom, Dad decided the only thing to do was to lift the cooler into the sink and drain out the water. Unfortunately, the cooler was in the dining room up against the powder room door. Dad picked up the cooler, staggered for a few steps, and then tripped over a corner of a shelf. Down went Dad. Down went the cooler. Down went the one shelf that had been resting on the stove. I don’t think there was a single shelf or drawer that he didn’t land on. I swear, I have never had so much difficulty not laughing in my life. I bit my lips really hard and turned my face away, because not even him tipping over backwards in the old office chair in the living room was as funny as that. It wasn’t really funny, but what else is a person to do but laugh?

Only, here’s the thing. The weather is balmy, breezy, and beautiful. The kitchen window is open. The living room windows are open, the dining room windows are open, and all of the sudden the air is filled with the crash of glass and clang of metal and Dad expressing his displeasure in a most convincing manner and clouding the air blue with his explicative and invectives. Then, he hauled himself up off the floor, hauled the cooler outside to be drained, and waxed quite eloquent as he did so. Then, as he stormed off in high dudgeon, I heard the cheerful chipper whistling of Corky at work in his back yard, quite conveniently concealed by the fence. Dad was too furious to hear him. I thought better of calling it to his attention but am certainly glad I maintained complete silence.

I’m sure the incident inflicted a lot of pain on Dad. The edges of those racks could not have been pleasant to fall on with his full weight. However, amazingly, not a single glass shelf was broken or even chipped. Even the plastic stuff escaped any breakage. Now, I ask you: why could so many nearly new plastic shelves and drawers break effortlessly with every day use, but ten years later suffer impact with a 200+ lb falling body and still remain intact? It’s a conspiracy, I tell you. They just want me to buy a new refrigerator!

We lived through that incident which was probably the most exciting, stressful, and distressing experience of the whole two weeks. Everyone keeps wondering how we could possibly survive living without power for so long, but the truth is, we didn’t. Not entirely. Dad only missed the Friday Ike stormed in and the Monday after, but was back to work after that. He had electricity all day. We also have a battery-operated radio, a battery-operated stereo, six+ battery-operated clocks, batter-operated flash lights, flash lights, and flash lights, and access to all the air-conditioning, household conveniences, and electricity I cared to go begging for. We even have battery-operated electric toothbrushes, for mercy’s sake. Our analog telephone uses the electricity supplied by the telephone company which comes through the lines to the phone. I charged my cell phone twice in the houses of friends, and then bought a charger for the cigarette lighter in the car. The ice we used was refrigerated with electricity, and Adam and Ariane even brought up their generator on Thursday night. I used it a bit on Friday to get the refrigerator cool, then we turned it on again after we got back from Sam’s. We also used it intermittently during the day on Saturday while the electric company guys were elsewhere. When they were here, we turned it off because it made it impossible for anyone to hear themselves think, let alone communicate with others.

The tendency is to feel rather proud of oneself for ‘roughing it’, but I can’t really make that claim. It never got hot, not in more than two weeks. I never missed the air conditioning. We simply slept with the windows open at night to allow the house to cool down, then I closed the back windows and the drapes when the sun got low enough to shine in and start heating up the room. But, two or three hours, and everything was all opened up again and the air extremely pleasant. Even now the weather holds (it got to a low of 70 last night) and is unseasonably cool. Before he brought up the generator, Adam protested that it was too hot outside for us not to have it. They also brought their little air conditioner and a couple of battery-operated fans, but we really only used one of the fans and that was at night to clear out the fog after we took showers. I’m sure if we had small children or didn’t have a single book in the house, it would have been different, but as it was, we managed quite nicely.

Well, this is way more than I intended on writing tonight, and it’s not very profound or informative, but it’s something in your inbox at any rate. Now, it’s after midnight and my brain has nodded off, so I think I’ll follow it and trundle off to bed. However, I did want to make sure I got this sent to you tonight. I’m going to the temple in the morning with Sister Conners. It’s been closed for over two weeks because they haven’t had any power either (Matt had to take out his endowments at the Dallas temple), and it’s really, really time for me to go.

I love ya, darlin’. Do good, work hard, have faith, and rejoice!

Mom

October 1, 2008
Addendum:

Okay, so I didn’t go to the temple this morning. I did a bit more yesterday than I should have done, so we postponed it until tomorrow. And, since I left out a few interesting tidbits, I thought I’d get them to you (or on the FFF blog or something).

What I wanted to relay when I sat down to the computer was Adam and Ariane’s Ike experience. Adam tells it a lot more engagingly than I can write it, and I tried to talk Ariane into getting her account onto the blog, but she says she can’t think about it without almost crying, which is understandable, and writing about it is absolutely beyond her. All she wants to put on the blog is “I hate Centex Homes!”

So, Adam spends the pre-Ike week shipping stuff off to San Diego so the pipeline is supplied even if the Houston hub goes down. Then, the Monday after, he’s the first one in the office and entirely uncertain of whom and whom will not show up at work. But, he can’t use that as an excuse for malingering because he has to get a U-Haul truck, load it, and get it driven to the FedEx in San Antonio because their Houston hub is nonfunctional. So, his week starts off with a bang and fails to improve as it progresses.

On Wednesday morning, he gets a call from Ariane, and she tells him the powder room toilet (just off the family room) is flooding over and into the family room and kitchen and she doesn’t know what to do. He tells her to use the plunger. She (a little impatiently, I imagine) tells him she is using the plunger and it doesn’t work. He tells her to turn off the water to the toilet, which she does, but the plunger is still not working and the water keeps coming up out of the toilet. He hears the washer running and tells her to run up and turn it off, which she does, but this fails to stem the flood. She insists that he come home and deal with it. (Monty and Cheryl had left for Port Arthur the day before to check on their house, which was unscathed, BTW [darn]). Adam sees no other option but to go home, so he tells her to run over to the model home/builder’s office and get the project manager to get a plumber out there immediately. He then tells everyone at work that he has to go home and teach his wife how to use a plunger. [laugh laugh]

So, he goes home (about a 15-minute drive), walks in the front door and gets BLASTED by the stench of sewage filling his brand-spanking-new house. The entire downstairs, except the music room (their formal living room in the front of the house), is filled with two inches of sewage water: the kitchen, family room, powder room, Monty and Cheryl’s room, their bath, and their closet. Fortunately, all but the master suite is tiled.

The first thing Adam realizes is that every time Ariane used the plunger, she wasn’t pushing stuff back down into the sewer but through the pipes into the master bath. The bath tub (a large ‘garden’ tub) was entirely filled with sewage. The carpets were completely saturated with filth. The entire house smelled like a cesspool. (Fortunately, they were able to get the kids out of the house and up the street to the Ashcrafts so they were safely out of the way).

The builder’s rep comes over and says, gee. That’s too bad. Adam says, this is under warranty. The rep says, dude. You’ve lived in this house for a month and haven’t had any previous problems with the plumbing. I sincerely doubt this has anything to do with a construction problem. The plumber comes, opens the clean-out, and Adam then had raw sewage filling his yard. (I won’t get as graphic as he did. I’m sure you get the idea). He sends the rotor down the pipe, spewing more stuff into the yard as he goes, all while Adam is praying, please, no toys, no toys, no toys, all while he has images in his head of Dad having to remove the toilet and saw apart a rubber ball that you put down the drain which he remembered quite graphically.

Finally, out pops the culprit, a pressure gauge which plumbers use to test the gas lines in the house. The builders’ rep admits the fault (no, really?!) and calls a restoration company to come out immediately. The rub is, there is no immediately. It’s four days after Ike, people are starting the recovery process, and everyone is booked solid until doomsday. They have to get in line.

To make a long story short, Adam shows up at work five hours after he left sporting a new shower and freshly changed clothes, and, to his credit, admits that his wife wasn’t a bubble-head and that he really did have to go home, which I think most of the office would have figured out on their own. He also asked the plumber what was the weirdest thing he had ever pulled out of a sewage pipe, which was a dead cat.

I don’t know when they’re going to get the restoration people out there. I just know that whether the builders’ rep likes it or not, they will attend the long list of requirements Adam insists upon, which not only includes replacing the carpet which he and Monty ripped out themselves, but removing all the baseboards and cleaning and sanitizing behind them, etc, etc. He’s getting very good at getting people do to what he wants. If persuasion fails, he’s got good old Freeman intractability to fall back on. I think he was born to be upper management.

One last thing: a thought occurred to me the other day. Have you ever considered criminal science as a major? Paul Kindred (Sister Johnson’s son), did so with a view to going on to law school, but interned with the FBI between his junior and senior years and had a job waiting for him as soon as he graduated. Of course, he’s brilliant and was the one applicant out of 250 which they accepted, but I don’t see any reason why you can’t succeed just as well at anything you decide to pursue. It would be very interesting, you could live just about anywhere in the country you pleased, and even overseas. The Osborns have been living in Beijing, China, for at least six years, and absolutely love it.

It’s just a thought that struck me the other day. I’m sure I’ll have a bizillion more between now and the time you decide on your major. Or re-decide on your major. Or re-re-re-decide on your major. It’s just I can see you happy and successful doing a myriad of different things and am probably excited second only to you to see you start off down that road.

Oh. One note. Both the Grands T. and Aunt Carrie expressed a desire to meet you at your layover in SLC, but, considering the airline and our previous experience with it, I think you’ll be lucky to make the connection. Besides which, they’ll see you soon enough regardless.

Finally, take lots of pictures of people these last two weeks and get as many addresses as you can of both members you love and your missionary crew. There will come a time within the next few years when you’ll want to share certain rites of passage with them and together rejoice, and they with you.

Now that I have written you a completely and totally trunky letter (which I swore I would never do), work hard, as I know you always do, preach the Gospel of Jesus Christ with the urgency of no tomorrow and that it all has to be done today, and bring and retain as much of that great spirit and testimony home with you as you can. We always need all we can get.

Also, if you would, when you give your testimony in that meeting on the 12th, would you please tell them how grateful I am to them for caring for you and loving you so well, and that I never worried about you going without food, love, or fellowship as long as you served among them. This has been one of the great blessings of your mission for which I will be eternally grateful. I just wish I could thank them in person and rejoice with them in the blessings of the Lord and the truthfulness of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. This is the first thing on my to-do list for you, and I’ll get you started before you even board that plane.

All my love,

mom

Back to the 21st Century

2008-09-28T20:02:00.000-07:00

Well, here we are, a whole day with electricity after two weeks, 20 hours, and 33 minutes without it. It's been an experience, I must say. All is well, however. I've got lots to report on, but for tonight, I'm just going to post these videos I took yesterday of the dramatic Coming of the Power!

This is the first video from yesterday (Saturday, Day 15) after it finally occurred to me to take some video, after both trucks had gone, of course. The roar heard in the background is no fewer than four generators going at once, one at Corky's, ours, and Bill's, three in a row, and one behind the Robinson's house. (Adam and Ariane brought up the generator on Thursday night, we used it intermittently for a few hours on Friday, then used it in the morning until our friends from North Carolina arrived. Then, we shut it off because they couldn't hear themselves talk to each other.

Here's Corky and Carolyn cleaning up after they took the tree down. The framing is jumbled because I didn't want them to know I was filming. I pretty much established myself as the crazy lady with the camera yesterday.

The following is the second time the power truck came back into our back yard. It's missing the first bit when it backed off our neighbor's driveway and through the void in our fence because I thought the camera was rolling when it wasn't. The neighbor in the background is Mr. Carpenter, who lives two doors down from us on the north.

Finally, here are some links to the still shots I took which I posted on Facebook:

Ike was Here

Ike was Here Week 2

2008-09-18T13:47:00.000-07:00

From Penny Freeman to Elder Paul Freeman, dated 17, 2008, after Hurricane Ike hit the southeastern Texas Gulf Coast

Dear Son,

Okay, so I'm a complete and total idiot. No. A complete and totally blithering idiot. I wrote you a nice long informative and chatty letter last night, so that this morning I wouldn't have to try and concentrate with five kids swarming around me. This morning, I got up, took a shower, called the Lewises to make sure they were home and they had the Internet, and moseyed on over. Of course, since I hadn't taken any pictures or video of the neighborhood, I brought my camera and took some shots as I came. Then, I got to their street and realized I had forgotten to bring your letter. So, I say, would you mind if I borrowed your car? (As competent as I am, had I walked it would have set me back an entire half hour because I walk so slow). So, we go through the ordeal of moving their Suburban and getting the Jeep out, then I zip over to the house, run in, put up my hair because it's more humid today and I was already sweating, and grabbed a couple of handkerchiefs for the exact same reason, then jumped back in the Jeep again. I got to the stop sign and huffed, but just parked in front of the Robertsons' house, then ran back in, then searched all over for the notebook I had been carrying around, then finally got over here. And, of course, nothing is ever as simple as it seems and I made it more difficult because I asked them if I could put my camera card in, and then my travel drive, both of which were far more involved on Brother Lewis's laptop than I ever anticipated. Not even my insisting that it wasn't a big deal and I really didn't care, etc., could hurry the process.

So, what I'm saying is, I'm typing as fast as I can, watching for your little green dot, and hopefully will get this done before you make it to a library.

Okay. Here's my letter from last night.

09.17.08 6:55 pm

Dear Son,

Here I sit on the love seat which Dad decided needed to rest facing the back windows so I could get the most out of the daylight. I've got about an hour left before I resort to my book light which has three LED's, uses two AAA batteries, and is far more convenient than my Maglite.

As you have probably heard by now, Houston took a hit dead-on Friday night-Saturday morning from Hurricane Ike. The Beaumont area was on the dirty side (which was really dirty), and a lot of Orange County simply washed away. Galveston is essentially unlivable, if not destroyed. I can't tell you for certain because we haven't had power since Friday night, so what news we get, we get from the radio which is pretty hit and miss. The stations were doing simulcast with KHOU for the first day, but then they went back to their own DJ's and that was when the news really stopped. I can tell you that they've shut down access and are doing their best to get the last hold-outs off the island. The mayor says she is not going to drag people from their homes, but I think it will eventually come to that. With no electricity, no sewer, no water, sewage and sludge in the streets, standing water everywhere, and debris filling the streets, the place is a positive petri dish for disease such as cholera, dysentery, and tetanus to become epidemic.

As far as Bolivar peninsula is concerned, it isn't there any longer. That strip of land was completely inundated before the winds became even of tropical storm force. Now, they're calling it Bolivar Island x3 because the land has been completely breached by the sea in two different places. There, they will take people out if they can't persuade them to go of their own accord. There is virtually no land or ferry access to it. Even now, it's the Coast Guard and their helicopters that are getting the people to safety.

Ike was particularly weird. First of all, because the dang thing was so large, although the winds were only a Cat2, the storm surge was at least a Cat4. And then, because of the odd angle it was relative to the coast, the towns on the west side of Galveston Bay and the island itself weren't hit as hard as expected with the full blast of the storm surge which was bad enough as it was. However, it came in slaunch-wise and hit Beaumont and points south pretty hard with the surge, the winds coming in really strong from the east, all while the eye itself made a hard right at landfall and sailed up I-45 at a fairly good clip. There were Cat1 winds at Huntsville. (Dad says he doesn't want to live near I-45 any longer if hurricanes are going to use it to get to Dallas).

Now, the hurricane gets to us. We lost power at 10:00 pm on Friday night, before the wind got more than 30mph. We don't expect to get power any time soon. Our backyard neighbors had a tree go down and hit the power line behind the garage. It's resting there as we speak, with the topmost limbs in the Robertsons' back yard. We were really blessed that the power had gone off before the tree went down. Otherwise, it could have been catastrophic. The wires are down in the Robertsons' yard and our transformer is shattered. Had the wire been live when it happened, it could have caught the tree (a pine) and our garage on fire, and from there it would have spread to our house, the surrounding trees, and the Robertsons' house, just for starters. Our own pine trees would have gone up like torches, and with the wind as it was, the fire would have jumped from house to house to house. So, you see, we have very, very much for which to be thankful.

We truly have been blessed that we lost no trees at all. Had our front trees fallen, they would have gone straight through the house. We didn't even get any major limbs down nor damage to the roof from the oak tree where it overhangs the house (or those over the garage). We got a lot of debris --- the trees weren't shy in sharing, and we won't have pine cones all fall and winter because they all fell Friday night, our back fence went down (yahoo!), so that needs to be replaced, and that rotten bit on the north fence by the house went down as well. It is a peculiar feeling to be caught with one's fence down. One truly feels exposed. Now, our north side neighbors have full view of all our inadequacies every time they use their back door, which is near continuously.

We haven't seen any yellow-shirts around. Certainly, they are concentrating their efforts to the south and east. This I know for a fact since I spent a few hours at the employment center helping churn out maps for the crews. Eric Brighton has become the de facto project head. He and Alicia have been down there putting in 12-hour days since Sunday. They first entered the data, then mapped it, then divided it into areas. I came in at the tail end which happens to also be the most stressful because now the crews are screaming 'Where are my maps!' (in a charitable tone of voice, of course).

The second-to-the-last step is to display the addresses which accompany the marker on the map, then saving that to pdf format (which is a touch more complicated than it seems). Then, Eric has to zip batches divided by stakes, then wards, then areas, and get them emailed to whomever is making the assignments, all while people are tapping their feet wondering what is the hold-up. They are doing the entire impact zone, from Corpus Christi in the west to Lake Charles in the east, from Galveston in the south to Huntsville in the north, all while Eric and Alicia bear the brunt of the load. A comment from Alicia: Wow! We have four people here. That's twice as many as we've ever had.

Sister Brighton took me home at five o'clock and tried to talk them into going with us, but they wouldn't budge. I think this is the first time I've seen Eric take the lead while Alicia watched to see what happened. He convinced Sister Brighton that they could get a ride home with someone, and that the work was just too important and too pressing to just abandon. He reminds me a lot of you that way.

Note: Microsoft's Roads and Trips software reeks big time, and the church needs computers which answer the urgency of the task.

Klein, along with just about every other ISD in the impact zone is closed all week, and if they're up and running by next Monday, it will be a miracle. Eric is distraught. He 'needs as many days of instruction as he can get' before the ever dreadful, looming large on the horizon SAT. I told him, well (I hope I didn't call him dude), that's where the self-sufficiency comes in. He wasn't very comforted. Of course, Alicia wasn't concerned. She's already had three ivy-league universities come to Spring to recruit. Oh. Alicia cut her hair into a really short bob. It's surprisingly un-Alicia-ish but very stylish and flattering (how many other adjectives can I think of besides the trite and overworn cute?).

One of the directors there ( I guess, or at least the man on the ground) was wearing a Helping Hands shirt. I asked if we got one. We don't. Apparently, the yellow shirts are passed out in Church parking lots in areas unaffected by the storm. None ever made it to the Church welfare offices on Hafer Road (which is completely obstructed by a fallen tree, btw. We had to get to the church by coming the back way through the subdivision). I said I thought we should have red survivor t-shirts, which Brother Riedel thought was was incredibly droll (hard to find that a compliment), but it didn't get a response from the yellow-shirt.

Adam came up on Sunday and was indispensable in the debris removal department. I told him the fence could wait another month until someone with more free time on his hands was available. He didn't like the intimation that he couldn't handle it himself. He plans on coming up on Saturday to get 'er done. I would say, we'll have to see what Dad thinks about that, but on Sunday he was peculiarly opinion-free when Adam made command decisions. When I say, "The whole fence needs to go," he says, "How about I just slit my wrists right now?" When Adam starts carting lumber out to the street wholesale, Dad says, "Whatever you think. I trust you." That was when I knew we were in the Twilight Zone. I had already told Dad once that day (when he was objecting to my method of rake-then-bag) that just then was not the time for micro-management. He grumbled something critical regarding my half-done habits but let it go. Finally, he said, "Whatever you have to do is fine. Leave it if you have to," then went into the house to die of heat prostration. I cleared away my one big pile into three huge industrial garbage bags and then cried uncle, but not before.

We're getting along pretty well without electricity, but without the TV or movies to lull Dad to sleep, he tends to pace. That's the only down side, actually. The weather has been heavenly (once it stopped raining). Cypress Creek flooded over the bridge at Champion Forest Drive and was just about a foot from the bridge at Kuykendahl. We had to send all our meat and vegetables down to Richmond. Monty bought a generator on Friday (I think), so they at least have refrigeration and can run a window air conditioning unit, but they got their power back on before Adam got home Sunday night. We had to throw out all the other stuff in the freezer, but oh well. How many years can Hot Pockets sit in the freezer before going bad? From the fridge, I've really only had to throw out the leftovers Dad would never eat anyway. The rest is pretty much condiments, fruit, and vegetables.

Note: As I wrote this, Dad was scouring the house for the little AA flashlights we have, and those that we bought that don't require batteries but you simply shake. No luck. He did find a fat four-pack of D cells when he dived to the bottom of Adam's backpack. They even haven't gone past their expiration date. We've also pulled the batteries out of the 72-hour kit (and no, the flashlights aren't in there). You wouldn't happen to know where they are, would you?

You'll be happy to know Dad cleaned out the barbecue grill. He even decided that that cardboard box and the fire in the Rickers' swimming pool were really the only two things he had to complain about your riotous youth. We also got fuel for those little portable burners we have (comes in cans that look like WD-40 cans), and they work like a dream. They work so well, I'm tempted to give up the range top in the kitchen entirely. There's nothing like cooking with gas. On Saturday, after I finished scrambling some eggs, Dad said, "Already?" I said, "I really want a gas stove." Dad said, "Done. I'll by you the best gas range you can find today." Good to know his old self is in there somewhere.

I've got a pretty nifty set-up. The two burners fit perfectly inside the grill, so when we're finished using them, I can just close the hood, rather than wait until they're cool again, then bring them into the house. With that setup, with the burner on the grill, I can actually have three things going at once. Of course, we remove them when we want to use the grill itself (which is rarely because we don't have any fresh meat). I'm going to start fiddling with our dutch oven a bit, so we'll see how that works out. I was reminded of the opportunity when we stopped over at the Rickers' on Sunday to get their cell phone numbers. Needless to say, Brother Ricker is in 7th heaven on his extended camp out. When we were there, the Kellers were there also and they were all sitting out back enjoying brunch. We sat for a few minutes, I had a bit of omelet, but Dad didn't eat. Even so, it was a red-letter day at the Rickers!

Dad went back to work today. They were up and running yesterday (Monday), but Dad was not happy with the amount of work I did on Sunday, so he stayed home to keep me from getting into more trouble. Of course, the first day he does go to work I run off all the way down to Hafer Road, so one can sympathize with his apprehensions in leaving me alone. But, irony of ironies, yesterday he got an automated message asking if we needed assistance from HP. We declined. Today, the CEO announced that there would be a bunch of layoffs because they just acquired a new company. Dad received the happy news that he wouldn't be one of that number, but it's back to the old Carly days. It's like being tied to a log in a sawmill. With every cut, you move closer to the blade, all the while praying that that particular slice won't cut your legs from under you. Man! I need to finish this book and get it sold!

Dad tells me to tell you the sad, sad tale of the littlest banana tree. Once upon a time, there was a frail little banana tree sitting in the corner of the nursery, overlooked and disregarded because of all the big, tall, beautiful banana trees surrounding it. One day, a kind man was willing to take the tree home with him. He planted it with care and tended it lovingly, but one cold winter night, there came a killing frost and all the leaves of the poor banana tree died.

Since banana trees are essentially a series of leaves, one emerging after another, the man thought the banana tree was dead, but left it where it was. When spring came around, to the man's great surprise and delight, three new shoots came out of the ground around the banana tree, and the stem itself which they thought was dead began again to show signs of life. The man waited until the new shoots were strong and healthy, and then moved two of them out a bit to allow them all more room. There, they all managed not only to survive but to thrive.

Of course, there is the largest, most healthy tree, and the smallest tree which struggles along, but its best is good enough. Then, a big, nasty hurricane blasted through the garden. All the leaves of all the trees got shredded, but they clung tight, remained attached, and the trees stood even still. The littlest tree stood tall and proud, having held its own along side its brothers. It's mean. It's tough. A hurricane? Pah. Nothing to it.

Of course, the hurricane cannot brook such defiance from such a little runt of a tree. It's a hurricane! Mighty oak trees are nothing but twigs in its path. However, the hurricane knows it cannot get to the littlest banana tree, sheltered between the garage and the fence as it was. But, the devious storm would not be beaten. It drew in all its bluster, and then in a great tornado of a gust, bent and twisted the trees and the fence until one great pine tree fell down, and the posts were twisted from the ground like a stem off an apple. The fence does all it can to fall away from its friends, the banana trees, but the wind is too much and one section falls the opposite direction, right on top of the littlest banana tree. Splat! Mashed like a bug on a windshield. Poor little banana tree.

There are some who believe in the stubbornness of the little tree, and some who don't. The man's son says the tree will survive and send up new leaves once it catches its breath. The man is afraid it's done for because the fence fell so hard on that spot. As for me, I'm placing my bets on the banana tree. After all, it sprouted from its parent who refused to say die itself.

You have Dad to thank for that. If he had said, "tell him about the banana tree", I could have said, "the fence mashed one of the banana trees." But, he didn't, and good wife that I am, delivered what he asked for.

The power is coming on slowly across Houston, although well over half of the customers are yet without power. The power company which services the Woodlands and Conroe said they had catastrophic failure, and it will be at least a month before everyone has power again. The storm left the power lines in utter carnage. Picture our scenario played out house to house, street to street. They say that after they get power to essential services (police, emergency response, fire departments, hospitals, water treatment plants, waste water processing, etc.) then they'll start on the 'main arteries' and work their way out. Even with the convoys of power company trucks coming in from Austin, Dallas, and San Antonio to join the restoration effort, we won't have power for some time. We're just one lone little capillary, one of millions of capillaries, so we're not holding our breath. When the power company's tree trimmers come to remove that tree, when I see a lineman shimmying up that pole, then I'll look for the power to come back one

There you are. I'm sending you this much to read, and the rest as soon as I type it. Hopefully, you'll still be reading this.

Love,

mom

[continued in second email]

. . . The restoration of power is starting to happen in other places, however. The Lewises (who live behind the Paruszewskis across TC Jester) got theirs on last night, as did the Reids. The Reids had an interesting night of it. When their power came back on, it started their tree on fire and they had to call the fire department. The truck went past our house, and needless to way, we went out to see what we could see, which was nothing. The Reids suffered no other damage (another blessing) and they still have power, so it's all good. The Suttons got theirs on this morning. It seems like the power is creeping closer, but, like I said, I'm not holding my breath.

I think I will make my way over to the Lewises tomorrow to use their computer and hopefully get this off to you. I'm scribbling away in this note book in which I am keeping my ramblings for my blog. I started posting on Friday night as a live Hurricane Ike commentary, but haven't posted anything since. That hasn't kept me from writing, however. I'll transcribe all these pages of entries no one will read, but it's my voice of firsthand experience, so I'll post it, eventually.

However, it really hasn't been the huge traumatic experience I anticipated. We never heard much howling of the wind---only rushing in the trees. Neither did we hear a bunch of debris hitting the house or wind rattling the windows. I rather imagine it sounded a lot different upstairs, but down here in our safe little corner, the greatest noise annoyance was the neighbors' generator running C-O-N-T-I-N-U-O-U-S-L-Y. We didn't even hear the trees falling down around us. Nobody did. Even Sam and Susan across the street didn't hear their tree fall, and it hit their house.

We haven't been displaced. We haven't gone hungry or been forced to subsist on crackers and PB&J. We've never lost water or sewer, the weather has been far more than tolerable, we haven't been forced from our home, nor even sustained any damage.

Adam and Ariane lost a bit of their fence along with a few shingles from their ridge-cap, but otherwise have had no problems. Austin and Ashley's families both managed to survive unscathed. Our biggest concern is the Montondon's house in Port Arthur. It could be high and dry or could simply be gone. They won't know until the authorities allow them back into the area (which probably won't be any time soon).

One more thing that really struck me as eerie. You know my tag line: work hard, do good, have faith, rejoice! That's all mine and has been since Adam was on his mission. Then, the other day as I was listening to the news, I heard an advertisement for some new community that was being developed. Their tag line was "Play hard! Live well! Have fun!" How's that for weird (and telling). All they needed to add was 'Enjoy!' to make it as completely self-oriented as a mission is Christ-centered, and, hopefully, all our lives. I thought how sad it was that they were advertising that as the source of all happiness.

Well, Dad's turning in and my pen is running out, so I'll sign off.

09.17.08: So, that was yesterday. Here I am at the Lewises' today. I put some video up YouTube and embedded on fabfreefam.blogspot.com, and have a bit more to post, so I'll try to get to that as well. I've got some pictures too. I'm not even going to try to tackle my inbox. I've been here forever as it is.

Know that I love you, that we're all well, that we're comfortable and doing without electricity really isn't that big of a deal (except when it comes to writing letters to missionaries). We never lost our land line which was odd because just about everybody else did. Text messages are getting through relatively well and I've been able to recharge my phone both today and yesterday. The grocery stores are starting to open, and those without electricity just stay open during daylight hours. We actually went to Kroger after Dad got home last night, but it was six and had already closed. The Subway was opened, however. We treated ourselves to a sandwich since the potatoes on the grill wouldn't have been done until about eight o'clock, the way I was going. The gas stations are beginning to open one by one, the creek is starting to recede, and we might even have church this Sunday if they get power and water back, get the downed lines off the road, and get rid of the tree. Or, maybe they'll let us attend at Louetta! That would be cool.

It's all good, we're all hunky dory. I love ya bunches and have been thinking about you a lot. I don't want you to worry about us. Just keep doing what you're doing and make the most out of this last month. Who knows. Maybe by the time you get here, we might have electricity.

All my love,

mom

Hurricane Ike Flipside

2008-09-17T12:55:00.001-07:00

Here are some shots from around our neighborhood on Day 6 of the Ike experience.

http://www.new.facebook.com/album.php?aid=53255&l=d5874&id=701076929

Hurricane Ike (10/10)

2008-09-17T12:47:00.001-07:00

Hurricane Ike Flipside (7/10)

2008-09-17T12:38:00.001-07:00

Hurricane Ike Flipside (5/8)

2008-09-17T12:36:00.001-07:00

Hurricane Ike (4/4)

2008-09-17T12:35:00.001-07:00

Hurricane Ike Flipside (3/8)

2008-09-17T12:34:00.001-07:00

Hurricane Ike Flipside (6/8)

2008-09-17T12:31:00.001-07:00

Hurricne Ike Flipside (2/8)

2008-09-17T12:15:00.001-07:00

Hurricane Ike Flipside (1/8)

2008-09-17T12:14:00.001-07:00

Reality Check

2008-09-12T18:40:00.001-07:00

People never cease to amaze me. For three days, city, county, and state officials have been telling people to get away from the coast. Some people took the warning seriously. Others just shrugged their shoulders. They think, well, Rita took a jog to the right at the last minute and that wasn't so bad. They don't seem to think, well, Rita did hit other people quite severely.

Today, the City of Galveston government estimated that some 40% of the population of Galveston Island decided to 'ride out the storm'. Somehow, a tide 20' above sea level and 15-20' waves on top of that doesn't seem to register. Earlier today, while it was still possible to evacuate, the news talked to a middle-aged man who really wanted to evacuate, but he couldn't because his 'hard-headed' mother refused. Her attitude was, if it's my time, it's my time. The good Lord will take care of me.

What is she thinking?! Okay. I can see an 80-year-old woman thinking that just then was as good a time as any to move on, but what about her son and daughter who would never leave her behind and so are forced to the same fate she has chosen for herself? It baffles me.

The storm surge started coming in this morning at about 9-10am. Actually, the storm surge started to show it's first affects yesterday afternoon, but by this morning because it was obviously rising so rapidly, some people decided that staying wasn't such a good idea after all. A lot more people left, but that brought it down to 40% of the population, which is 25,000 people.

Since the roads became impassable earlier this afternoon, the police just on Galveston have risked their own lives to rescue over 200 people who finally got it into their heads that this was a life-and-death situation. But now, it's just impossible. The entire island is without power, and even the rescue personal and city government people are retreating to a really strong hotel. But at nine o'clock, the doors will be locked and everyone (the press is all camped out there too) will be required to take shelter in the old WWII bunker over which the hotel was build. It is the only safe place on the island, but even when the press corps signed in, they had to sign liability waivers for death and/or injury.

So, all 25,000 of those people are on their own. Literally. There was a house fire earlier this afternoon on the lowest part of the island which was already under water. The firefighters just couldn't get to it. Then, earlier this evening, another fire broke out in a yacht storage facility. A transformer blew and ignited the fire, and all the gas in those boats sent up billows of thick black smoke across the island, but again, all the firefighters could do was sit and watch because about 100 yards of water stood between them and the fire.

And now, another house fire has broken out, not far down on the island which is less populated, but up in the city proper. It is impossible for the firefighters to even leave shelter, but the wind is driving the fire from house to house to house. The island is completely black, and all the people in the hotel can do is watch the fire grow and pray the people who own the houses have evacuated. Unfortunately, there's a 40% chance that they're not.

City and county officials have warned the lingerers time and time again that they are on their own, but they refused to listen. It's too late now to do anything, so now they're telling people who call for help to write their social security number on their forearm with a magic marker to help identify their remains.

And all anyone can do is watch.

It kind of makes me wonder. How many of us listen to the counsel of the prophets and say, nah. That doesn't apply to me. Nothing has happened to me yet! What price are we going to pay for our selfishness, stubbornness, and pride? What price will our dismissive attitude force others to pay?

Ike Sends Out Advance Forces

2008-09-12T17:46:00.000-07:00

Okay. So, I don't know if any of these videos will work out (I'm still in the process of uploading them), but I'm racing against the wind and so thought I'd get them up as soon as I could.

In case I don't get them all or any of them embedded, if you want to look at them, I'm freemomtx on YouTube.

Essentially, dusk has fallen about an hour sooner than usual and the trees are starting to feel the breeze. Our house is protected by the trees as a wind-break, but and we're just praying that the wind doesn't break them and expose us to a bit more wind than we would like. I don't know if you can see the swaying of the trees, but the pine trees are tall, tall, tall, and skinny. They tend to dance in a stiff breeze. It really unnerved me when we first moved to Houston, but now, I'm used to it---and really glad that it's dark so I don't have to see them going in a 80mph wind.

Oh, I'm posting them by time in reverse so the first video you see is the first I shot.

A Bit of a Breeze

2008-09-12T17:45:00.000-07:00

The laundry is done, the kitchen is clean, and all that's left to do now is dither. Here are a few silly shots I took, for what they're worth.

. . . . Over here, I couldn't get the gate open because I had secured the nifty little latch that is pretty much kid-proof. Doh! Isn't Dallas' new gate loverly? If the whole house comes down, that gate will still be there because he builds things like a brick outhouse.

Preparing for Ike

2008-09-12T13:07:00.000-07:00

Hello to our family and friends in many different places! Thank you for your thoughts and prayers as we prepare for the hurricaine to come to shore. Its pretty funny that I have lived in Texas my entire life and I have never been through a hurricaine. Fortunately for us we just happen to live with Mr. Be Prepared (my dad) for anything and I am grateful for his immense experience in surrvial. I feel quite calm in those skills keeping us safe. He was giving someone on the phone advice for what to do if the wind breaks your windows. Apparently your supposed to grab a boxspring and nail it to the wall. Interesting information and I hope like crazy their will be no using that tip. Yesterday as Adam was getting his inventory ready to be safe and sandbagging all of the doors of his office, my Dad and I were getting the house ready by removing anything that could be a moving weapon(with the right wind of course) and making room in the garage. We still have a few things to do but for the most part we are ready to get this show on the road. The kids and I made some banana bread this morning and we rented some movies last night, so that pretty makes us ready, right?! We hope all of you who are reading this are having a good day. I got a nap today and it really felt so nice, and its about time I wake Adam form his(we go in shifts)I encourage all to do the same!!
Love you,
A. Freemans

All about Ike

2008-09-12T11:20:00.000-07:00

Okay. Here's my first attempt at running a real-time blog. I don't know if anyone is interested, but considering how far-flung our family is, it might be of some use. (I'm assuming that people are sitting on needles and pins waiting for word from us).

Today's developments:

The good news:

After following Ike's serpantine meandering through the Gulf and the devastation it has left in its path for over two weeks, Ike will finally come ashore within the next 12 hours. It has been taking in a lot of dry air from the west which has kept it from accelerating into a Cat3 or even Cat4 storm. Right now, it's a Cat2, but this darn storm is really cantankerous and makes forecasting difficult. The maximum winds they are expecting are about 80-100mph, so hunkering down is a pretty safe strategy for folks not near the coast.

It will no longer be barreling right over Adam and Ariane. They will now be on the 'clean' side of the storm, which is the rotation going back to the sea. They'll have winds, but they won't be as hard, and rain, but not as much. Also, they don't have any trees to fall on their house, and the closet which is the most protected point of their house is very well protected and is large enough to harbor six people comfortably---more or less, for an hour or two. I don't foresee them needing to use it. Monty and Cheryl are really on top of the whole preparedness thing, they even went out and bought a generator yesterday, so I'm not worried about those folks at all.

The State of Texas and especially the counties around Galveston Bay have learned a LOT from Hurricane Rita, and the mandatory evacuations have gone so well, last night the roads were completely free of even slow-going traffic and all the gas stations along the evacuation routes had all the supply they needed (sooner or later). The point is, there weren't any stranded travelers unable to get gas and dying of heat prostration. Traffic is picking up again this morning since the track of the hurricane changed to Galveston Bay, and I think some inlanders who waited until the coastal areas had all cleared out before they hit the road.

The bad news:

Ike is so large that an incredible area of southeast Texas is already being affected. Southeast Texas is rather known for its pine trees. Pine trees and 100mph winds tend to interact with negative effects. Neither do pine trees and power lines get along very well, especially if the wind is blowing say, er, 10mph.

The power company is saying that at worst, some people could be without power for as much as 18 days. Considering that Houston is the 4th largest city in the US (not counting the outlying areas), that's a lot of power line to get back up and running. We may be incommunicado for a while.

Ike has shifted and is projected to make landfall at Galveston Bay. The center is now forecast to go right over our house, still a Cat1 by the time it gets here, roughly 60 miles inland. If you reference a map, it's projected to follow I-45 from Galveston until at least Conroe or perhaps Huntsville. That's a lot of ground to cover. It's a big storm. We have four pine trees and I don't know how many oak. The oak I'm not worried about.

However, we're good. We have a fantastic ward (The Olde Oaks Ward, Houston North Stake, of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints) with an astounding emergency preparedness committee. Our ward boundaries are divided into 15 different zones, and at least nine people in have short-wave radios and the licenses to run them. We even have an email address just so ward members can report in both before and after the storm, so we know everyone is safe and well. As I said, they're cool.

So, even if all four trees fall on our house, we'll be good. With Rita, though all we had was a bit of wind and power outages, the members in our neighborhood were immediately out and checking on everyone else as soon as it became evident the worst had passed. And, Adam said if he doesn't hear from us by Sunday, he's coming up to fetch us back to a generator, at least.

But, we're good. We have everything we need and then some. I went to the grocery store this morning to pick up a prescription and expected to find the shelves completely bare and the store in complete chaos. It wasn't. The bread had already gone, as was the propane, but there were pallets of bottled water scattered throughout the store (we got two just because it was there). We stocked up on a few more things just to be on the safe side, and found everything we were looking for. However, that was about 9:30 am. I think people going there now would have less success. There was a run on the basics (almost no peanut butter and only a few bottles of jam), but, price gouging there was not.

I considered for a moment taking a bit of video of the store, but it was so unremarkable, I didn't see the point. There were traffic jams all over the store, of course, but they had every single check-out open and things were moving lickety-split. It was a far cry from Rita. I think not only the government learned stuff from that experience, but the people did as well. We definitely won't be going without anything and even have stuff to share if needed. We're good.

What's coming:

The eye of the storm is not expected to make landfall until about one o'clock on Saturday morning, but Galveston's 15' seawall is getting overrun right now. The westernmost part of the island is already under water. Because of the area of the storm, the winds are only a Cat2 at the moment, but the storm surge will be at a Cat4 or a Cat5. The Coast Guard is already rescuing people off roofs in various communities around Galveston Bay because they dithered and didn't get out in time. The water just came up and closed the roads and the ferries, and that's it. The loss of life along the coast is definitely a concern not only because of the severity and unexpected nature of the surge, and the waves on top of the 20' surge, but also because of the debris in the water. Now, they are showing piers breaking up and all that wood and steel bashing about like toothpicks. I think the people who thought to ignore the warnings are now severely repenting it. Galveston Bay is also shaped like a funnel, and with all the water pushing into the bay, the only way it has to go is up through the shipping channel and right into Houston proper. There will be alot of opportunities for service starting Sunday.

Right now, we've got a bit of a breeze, but nothing worth mentioning. The wind isn't even whoosing in the tops of the trees yet. We don't expect even tropical storm conditions to reach us until later tonight, and the eye of the storm around 7-ish. We're all hunkered down, Dallas is snoozing in front of the perpetual news, and we're good.

Finally, it's hard to say how long we'll have power. It probably won't be long after dusk, if we get that far. Our area is pretty notorious for its power outages. I will post as I can, if there's any change in our situation, or as the storm worsens or whatever, but if you want to monitor it from our POV (rather than the networks), KHOU.com is streaming their newscast, and their newscast is continous. They're also on XM radio somewhere up in the 200's, and on Dish Network at around 349 or something. I can't remember. It's in the 300's, at any rate. They're a network affiliate, but the only bit of network material I've seen was a few seconds of footage where some guy on the morning show just about got washed off the seaboard by a really high wave.

Also, there's a really comprehensive storm tracker site that FedEx sent Adam which is StormPulse.com. If you're interested in who has to evacuate, Harris County has posted a map here. Everyone living in the yellow and green areas have mandatory evacuation, but that means 'stay at your own risk', rather than 'we're sending the Texas Guard to fetch you'. The City of Houston also has a really cool wind projection map, Houstonhidefromwind.org.

That's about it right now. I'm off to finish the laundry and do the dishes while I still have hot water.

Ciao,

Penny

The Stone Cut Out of a Mountain

2008-09-03T08:38:00.001-07:00

September 3, 2008

Dear Son,

Well, another uneventful week has come and gone. There was a bit of a hubbub over the weekend as Hurricane Gustav sped across the Gulf. It was aimed right at New Orleans, so the governor called out the National Guard and made evacuation mandatory about three days in advance. By the time Gustav actually came to shore, everyone was well on their way to Houston or points west.

There was also some concern that it may veer left and land at Galveston, but as the days passed, the likelihood lessened. As it turned out, it hit west of New Orleans which put them on the dirty side of the storm, but it had moved pretty fast across the Gulf so didn’t have time to work itself up. It was a Category Four when it crossed over Cuba, but was only a Cat2 when it made landfall. So, all in all, it was a lot less trouble than everyone feared. Ariane’s extended family (like her grandmother) was at some risk, but luckily Monty and Cheryl are now well-established in Richmond.

As it turned out, this was a bit of mercy for the Republican National Convention which started on Monday. Had Gustav been catastrophic and hit New Orleans dead on (or closer than it was), the election would have been over. Despite how smoothly everything went this time, the specter of Katrina would raise her ugly head and the footage of Republican incompetency would have cooked McCain’s goose. Never mind that the governor of Louisiana is now a Republican and doing an excellent job. Gustav would have decided the election.

Hurricane Hanna was hard on the heels of Gustav, only she was headed straight for Miami. Now, she’s doing loop-de-loops over Jamaica and Haiti, which is the weirdest thing I ever saw. All the hurricanes this season have been atypical. Gustav was the only one that acted as a proper hurricane should. Ike and Josephine decided they wanted to get in on the action early and are now getting worked up out in the Atlantic. Ike has scarcely left the African coast.

I told your dad that I was waiting for Hurricane Nana. He laughed and thought that was a pretty good joke, but I said, no, really, she’s right here on the list of names. With the way things are going, it looks like we’ll definitely see her before the season is over.

So much for the weather update. And now for the news. Oh, wait. There isn’t any. Alora did start preschool yesterday, and she absolutely loved it. I think that’s really wise of Ariane as it gives Alora an outlet and Ariane a break for a few hours twice a week. That child is all energy, but she always needs someone to share the excitement with. One day while Ariane was here, she and I were in the office chatting, and Alora came in and said, “I need you to entertain me.” It was really funny and Ariane decided maybe she better watch what she says to her friends because her kids are always listening. Apparently, Alora agreed entirely with Ariane’s assessment that she always needed someone to entertain her. Aaron is the polar opposite. He reminds me a lot of you. He’s perfectly happy off in a corner somewhere wrecking havoc all by himself.

Alora talks constantly about you coming home, but the best concept she can grasp is ‘next week’. We tell her, when it’s Halloween, but for a child who refers to anything in the past as ‘yesterday’, that means little to nothing.

I really need to figure out how to fix this silly webcam. I start to go through grandchild withdrawal, and there’s no way Dad will go down to Richmond every week, or even every other week. I think I’m going to talk them into Fast Sunday family dinner again. I don’t know why we left off—probably because Adam’s life got too busy and the house consumed all their attention and energy, but now it will be one of the few ways we get to see them. I think now the whole empty nest thing is starting to sink in, but, at least we worked into it gradually and it wasn’t a big jolt all at once. That’s made it a lot easier to adapt.

BYU sounds like a good plan to me. I think you’d be a lot happier in Provo than at BYU-Idaho. You and cold are pretty much strangers, and if you think Provo is cold, you’d be in for a violent shock at Rexburg. Besides which, I’m certain you’d still be drawn to Provo even from Rexburg. By far, the majority of your friends are there, and weighed on that scale, Provo rather clunks down and flips Rexburg through the air. I’m glad I didn’t have to try to talk you out of Hawaii, first, because the cost of living there is impossible, and second, BYU-Hawaii is considered the party school of the CES. If you’re going to spend a boatload of money, I’d much rather you spent it on your education rather than an extended vacation. Just keep checking with President Sanchez to make sure he’s sent in your ecclesiastical recommendation. Dallas barely made the deadline because his MP set his on the back burner.

I had an interesting experience last Wednesday that I wanted to tell you about. I went and sat with Sister Marsha Johnson’s mom, Lucille, while she went out to do RS stuff. I sat with her a couple of hours and chatted with her or listened to her stories the entire time. She told me her conversion story, which I’m certain you’ve heard, but she also told me lots of things I didn’t know.

Sister Lucille was born in Oklahoma, but when her mother died when she was nine, her father moved the family to Arkansas which was where he was from originally. Then, when her father died, her grandmother kept the boys but sent herself and her sister back to Oklahoma to live in an orphanage. When she was fifteen, she ran away to find her sister who was living independently. From there, she went to live with her uncle and worked on his farm, which she finally felt was home. She is 84 years old, so it was the height of the Great Depression when all this was going on, and she in the heart of the Dust Bowl.

As so many people did, she ended up married and in California. Her marriage didn’t last, as to use her words, ‘he was too handy with his fists’, and she refused to put up with it. As a single young mother, she got a job as a police officer and worked at La Jolla guarding submarines. Her brother had taught her to shoot when she was a child, as it was their job to go out hunting and bring home meat for the table. She told me she loved guns, (there were times she wanted to turn one on her abusive husband), and was the best sharp-shooter on the whole base, except for her instructor. She could light a match at twenty paces, which Brother Ricker refused to believe was possible until he went out to prove it to himself. She smiled when she recalled how hard they tried to do it because they were not going to allow this tiny old lady to best them. She thought that maybe, perhaps they had finally done it.

She worked at the submarine base for about five years, and then decided to go back to her family in Arkansas. She traveled all across the country by herself, with her three children in tow. Then, she met her second husband, they married and moved to Houston. I think her oldest children were pretty much grown by the time Marsha and her brother, Randy, came along. At least, Marsha very rarely mentions them, and I was really shocked to learn of Sister Lucille’s first marriage and her children.

Anyway, when Marsha was about eight, the family was living in Houma, Louisiana, where she worked as the chief bookkeeper for a chain of five grocery stores. Niggling questions about the Bible continued to vex her. When she asked her pastor questions, first he said, ‘we must have faith’, then came ‘I don’t know’, until finally he said, “You know, Mrs. Johnson, you really are becoming a problem.”

That was when she started investigating other religions, but none of the pamphlets or other information her friends had to offer gave her any satisfaction. One day, she mentioned this to one of her friends who happened to be a less active Mormon (I’m certain because of her isolation) and happened to have a Joseph Smith pamphlet in her car. Sister Lucille took it to be polite and after her friend left, went to the trash can to throw it away. That was the last thing she recalled until she found herself sitting at her kitchen table reading the pamphlet, the hair standing up on her head, it so electrified her. She knew that moment it was true and told her friend as much. She begged her for more reading material, but her friend told her, “No. You’re ready for the missionaries.”

That went as you would expect, but when it came time to the family to be baptized, they told her they must drive 35 miles to Shreveport. When they got there, they went to a specific house and into a back room which had a huge wooden box in it. It had originally been a crate in which they shipped oil field machinery, but they had painted it, I assume water-proofed it, and built ladders ‘coming and going’, as Sister Lucille put it. If they wanted a ‘real’ baptismal fount, they were told they must drive to New Orleans (on the opposite end of the state). In that crate she was baptized, as was her husband, and he baptized their daughter, Marsha. They were the first members of the Church ever in Homer, Louisiana. The rest is history, but it’s that history I want to tell you about.

As it happened, Sister Lucille was, as I said, the head bookkeeper for five supermarkets. As she required them, she would choose the sharpest and best cashiers from those stores and ask them if they wished to learn bookkeeping. Of course, they all jumped at the chance, she trained them herself, and soon Sister Lucille had a whole pool of bookkeepers working under her. One could say she was a woman of some influence.
After she joined the Church, as she put it, she ‘couldn’t keep it to myself’. She preached the Gospel to anyone who would listen, and every single one of ‘her girls’ joined the Church, as did their families. Before long, they had a branch up and running which filled her entire living room and burst out of it because neither could her friends keep the good news to themselves. As she said, she did the preaching and her husband did the baptizing.

In those days, the Church didn’t just build a chapel because it was needed. The saints had to come up with a big chunk of the money, and $1000 1960-dollars was a hefty amount. However, that is how much the Johnsons ultimately contributed to the building fund for their ward house. They quite literally built the Kingdom in Homer. They lived in there some years. It’s where she and Marsha ultimately call home. They eventually moved away to follow the work, but when they left Homer, their branch was well on its way to full ward status and the meeting house was eventually built. She told me that whenever they drive through, they have to see that chapel because they feel so much a part of it.

Needless to say, Sister Lucille takes great pleasure in relating this story and in contemplating just how many people she brought into the gospel. Of course, there is absolutely no way of telling just how far her testimony reached, for every single one of her girls remained steadfast in the Gospel and raised their families to do the same. When one considers how many missionaries must have been sent out into the world and how many children raised their own in the gospel as a result of their parents’ conversion, the influence of Sister Lucille and her husband staggers the mind.

And all this because one sister whose hardship and distance prevented her from regularly attending church meetings kept in her glove box a Joseph Smith pamphlet and was not to timid too share it. I asked Sister Lucille whatever became of her friend, if she starting coming back to church when they had established their branch, but she told me after she attended their baptism, she moved away and then died shortly thereafter. She never knew the results of her efforts.

But, how great must be her joy! When Sister Lucille finally meets her again, how they will rejoice in knowing the blessings they bestowed upon so many. Whenever I wonder if what I am doing is enough or if it is worth it, I consider that ‘less active’ sister and hope that there are more like Sister Lucille who latch onto the truth I try to communicate and cannot keep the good news to themselves. That thought makes all the effort worth it.

So, that’s my homily for today. I hope it inspires you as much as it has me. With juggernauts like Sister Lucille, the Gospel cannot help but fill the whole earth. Like that stone cut out of the mountain without hands, it is unstoppable. Remember:

Work hard. Have faith. Do good. But, most of all, rejoice!

All my love,

mom

YouTube - Everlasting - (John 3:16)

2008-08-30T08:02:00.000-07:00

YouTube - Everlasting - (John 3:16)

An Introduction

2008-08-26T23:59:00.000-07:00

Alora Goes Solo for Uncle Paul

2008-08-26T23:50:00.000-07:00

Alora Freeman sings, with Aaron observing, Adam & Ariane trying to get the lunch on the table, with the voices of Cheryl and Monty Montondon in the background, and Dad monitoring the situation (and the clock), the A4's new house in Richmond.

Happy Birthday, Uncle Paul!

2008-08-26T23:47:00.000-07:00

The A4's sing: Aaron, Ariane, Alora and Adam, against the backdrop of their new family room not quite yet brought up to speed. (They've only been in the house a week and still aren't quite out of their apartment).

The Rickers Visit on Elder Freeman's Birthday (part 1)

2008-08-26T19:24:00.001-07:00

Some of the Ricker family drop by to leave birthday wishes for Paul: Andy, Lorraine, and Alan Ricker.

The Rickers Visit on Elder Freeman's Birthday (part 2)

2008-08-26T19:19:00.001-07:00

The Rickers Visit on Elder Freeman's Birthday (part 3)

2008-08-26T19:15:00.001-07:00

Zeus Sings! Brace Yourself.

2008-08-26T11:44:00.000-07:00

Paul's adopted family, the Paruszewskis: Ginger, Brett, Kevin, Braelynd, Rorie, and Ty. Ty just got braces, a rite of passage for many a teenager, and Rorie likes to tease. Sorry about the lighting and resolution issues. My camera takes great snapshots, but videos, not so well.

Mama Ricker Counting the Days

2008-08-26T11:43:00.000-07:00

From Sister Lorraine Ricker, Paul's second mom.
(Sorry about the lighting. I thought I was doing well to catch her when I did.)

Following in Your Footsteps

2008-08-26T11:42:00.000-07:00

From (soon to be Elder) Matt Courtright, who expects his mission call this week!

What Can I Say But Happy Birthday?

2008-08-26T11:41:00.000-07:00

From Brother Frazier Stern

Elder Freeman gets one year closer to death!

2008-08-26T10:45:00.000-07:00

From Christian Burstall

Happy Birthday, Elder Paul!

2008-08-26T10:44:00.001-07:00

Sammy & Joshy Hill, sons of Dan and Tomi Ann Hill

Happy Paulmas

2008-08-26T10:44:00.000-07:00

Here is a little sumpin' I shot for Paul, in all its glory ;).
From Flora Bruno and Matt Moses.

Circle of Life

2008-08-20T09:25:00.000-07:00

August 20, 2008

Hey, Sweetie,

I wish there could have been a better way to tell you about Grandpa Freeman’s death, but, sadly, there wasn’t. Dallas told me that whenever a missionary in Brazil received a message to call the president, their hearts always dropped through their shoes for fear of something dire happening at home, but I didn’t want you to just get a cold, impersonal email telling you about it. That didn’t feel right either.

As it was, he died on Saturday, but Aunt Myrna didn’t tell us until Sunday afternoon. They also never told us that he had prostate cancer and had been bleeding internally for a while, so much that he had to have regular blood transfusions. If she would have let us know, we could have been planning for it and would have had enough cash to get Dad on an airplane for the funeral, but as it is, we simply don’t have the $1200 it would cost Dad to get a non-stop flight to Salt Lake. That’s the only way he’d be able to travel at all. The only flight that was even remotely reachable was over $500, but that was with US Air, with at least one connecting flight, and Dad couldn’t possibly endure that you or Dallas did with that airline last year.

So, he’s staying at home, feeling like everyone is going to consider him a bloodless, heartless, son of a gun for not attending his father’s funeral, but life is what it is. Dallas and Lynda will definitely be there, and Dallas will be a pall bearer and say the opening prayer, so our family is represented, at the very least. Grams and Grandpa Tarbet are going to take them down to Genola. I wish they could have gotten down before he died so Grandpa Freeman could have at least met Lynda, but that wasn’t to be.

I know Grandpa is happy now, though. I’m sure he’s now dived into missionary work, none the least of which is Dan who has many difficulties to overcome which were too much for him in this life. But with Grandpa and Grandma there giving him strength and teaching through example, I’m sure he’s improving by leaps and bounds. As far as Grandma is concerned, she’s probably asking him what took him so long, and now he decides to be late for once in his life?! Stubborn, tenacious old man! And Grandpa says, well, I’m here now. What are you waiting for? Let’s go! Then, off they go to preach the gospel to anyone who will listen, strengthen those who need someone to lean on, and lend a helping hand to anyone, whether or not they ask for it.

It’s a good thought to keep in my heart: the folks out sowing the seeds of the gospel at the break of dawn like I remember them out hoeing their acre-sized garden, then reaping the fruits of their labors with far more relish than they ever did spring peas and baby potatoes.

We had Alora and Ariane from Thursday afternoon until Saturday morning this past weekend. Thursday, they did their final quality check with the project manager, and then Ariane brought them up. She then went home to do the packing thing. Friday, they signed the papers. I don’t know how much painting they got done (I’m thinking very little), and moved a few things into the house. They’ll have it furnished pretty well, as Monty and Cheryl bought a leather sofa set for the family room and a brand new refrigerator. They’ve got the stuff they bought from Adam’s boss, a set of bunk beds they bought from some lady whose kids are grown and gone, and will use their old furniture upstairs in the ‘media room’. They’re still looking for just the right sofa for their ‘music room’, which is the formal living/dining room, but they’re taking it slow. The thingamabob I got for them came the other day, and I’m going to try and talk Dad into driving down this weekend so that I can deliver it. It looks really cool. I hope they like it. I’m also going to take a bunch more pictures so that I can finish ‘This is the House that Adam Built’.

Anyway, they did the business stuff on Friday and moved a few things in the rain, but they managed to get the furniture out and in again during the sunshine breaks of their intermittent showers. We had rain all day. In the morning, I took the kids to the Paruszewskis and we swam for a while (even in the rain), until they got good and tired, then brought them home for lunch and naps which was really quite slick. Then, I had Letitia come over after naps to wash up some dishes for me and play with the kids for a bit. That was really helpful, because then I didn’t feel totally swamped, and I managed to not be completely ground into the carpet by the time Dad got home. Dad was really good about the grandpa thing all weekend. Austen and Wendy came and got them on Saturday, and I finally managed to get Alora’s dress finished and sent home with her, and, considering I had the kids while I was sewing it (whenever I sewed it), it was a major accomplishment.

We had rain all Friday afternoon and all day Saturday, but I hope the guys managed to have a bit of dry. Actually, we’ve had rain every day this week, Sunday and Monday most of the day, and yesterday on and off but really on when it was on. We’ve had showers this morning, but I think it’s going to clear up. It’s all good, though. We’ve had a long dry summer, so that dousing is more than welcome.

Dad has his own spurt of creativity this weekend, spurred by his inability to unlatch the back gate when he came home on Friday because I had locked it to keep the kids in so I could let them play outside without me. Dad finally decided it was time to build the new fence, we actually found the hinges and latch we had bought ages ago, then Saturday we got the lumber. He was pretty fried by Saturday night, but he decided he just had to push himself to get it done, and now it is. We ultimately decided to use the latch mechanism from the old gate because we didn’t like the new one. The old one is simple and very effective, especially because you can kid-proof (and Dad-proof) it without using a padlock, but that is also an option. We did use the new hinges, however. They have springs inside the hinge so that the gate swings shut but there are no exterior springs to catch little fingers. It’s really cool. Of course, it’s built like a brick outhouse with a bizillion nuts and bolts, but it’s also neat and precise, and wears Dad’s stamp all over it. Dad likes looking at it. I like standing outside in the rain and smelling it. With the weather as cool as it has been (it hasn’t broken 90° all week), it’s actually been almost brisk in the morning, and the cedar from the gate in the wet air makes it smell like the mountains. I don’t think it will be much longer before Dad decides to replace the rest of the patio fence.

Rachel and Spencer Ellis are both leaving on their missions (or have left). I’m not certain where Spencer is going, but Rachel is going to Brazil (of course). I rather imagine Spencer is as well.

The Mahanas have finally sold their house and are going to be moving into their new one after they get back from taking Deneka up to the Y. That was areal shock to hear, because the last I knew anything about it, they were still looking and hadn’t decided where they were going to build, and that couldn’t have been more than a month ago. But, I guess all the stars finally aligned and everything just kicked into high gear. They’ll be staying with Marci’s sister for a couple of weeks because their house isn’t ready but they have to close on their house this week. They’re moving up into a subdivision north of FM 2920, behind Wal-mart, she said. That’s perfect for them because Taelor got accepted into Klein Forest’s college-type program, so the driving will be brought into manageable levels. They’ll be in the Spring Creek Ward. Spring Creek is one weird ward, I tell ya. Between the two halves of the ward, there are the Windrose and Klein Oak wards. It’s goofy.

Ah. Erick and Leeanne finally had their baby, and she’s a whopper! Amelia Pearce was 8 lbs 7 oz, which is even bigger than you were when you were born. I think Leeanne was close to two weeks overdue, but the baby had her face to the cervix, rather than the crown of her head, which is why she didn’t drop and labor didn’t start as it should have done. When she finally did go into labor, they sent her from the birthing center to the hospital because her blood pressure was elevated. The hospital that they sent her to was too full, so then sent her to another hospital, who sent her to another hospital. By the time she was finally admitted at 1pm, she is in full hard labor which lasted past midnight before they decided Amelia was facing wrong and they had to take her c-section. Huzzah for socialized medicine! Everything turned out all right, however. Eric is about as proud as he could possibly be, even though he says she looks like a gangsta because all the pressure was on her face. She’s beautiful, however—absolutely perfect.

The was a chance that Tomi would deliver on the same day, but the labor petered out and it hasn’t started up again. I think the labor will last about 15 minutes when it finally does kick in, however. That girl is good and read to deliver little Eliza. I think Aunt Carrie is absolutely in her element with grandkids popping up like daisies. We all like the idea of Carissa up there, holding the hands of those two little girls and telling them of all the delights of this life, and what a great family they will have once they're here.

And, that’s about all the newsy chat I’ve got, so, once again, I beat you to the mailbox, so that’s great. It's also good to be able to tell you about new life as well as welcome death.

I love ya, darlin’. Keep up the great work!

love,

mom

Reflections of Christ

2008-08-20T05:36:00.000-07:00

This is a fabulous slide show that I highly recommend watching. It's a great way to start your day.

http://mabrystudios.typepad.com/reflections_of_christ/

What a Weekend!

2008-08-06T20:50:00.000-07:00

To Elder Paul Freeman

August 6, 2008

Dear Son,

Well, we managed to survive the weekend, which was rather a hectic one. I told you that — and — were getting married on Saturday. It was also newsletter weekend, and since Sister — didn’t take us up on our offers to help her out with the reception, I procrastinated getting the newsletter finished, which was entirely normal, of course. However, as it happened, while I was putting the newsletter together on Saturday morning, she called to get Ginger’s phone number which started me worrying. About an hour later, Ginger called me from down at the church and said, help help! So, Dad, Dani and I went down and helped out for a while. (Dani is home for the summer missing Jeffrey who is now in Madrid. She'll go back to school at the end of the month).

Once they started setting up for the wedding the night before, the — realized they needed to to cut the gym in half (of course). They had hit upon using the volleyball standards and nets and some pink cloth Ginger said she had scads of, but once she got down there it was obvious that was noy going to work. So, we put our heads together, tried a few different things, figured out what would work and what wouldn’t, called Jeanette to run and get some other stuff we needed, and then Dad and I took off, leaving Ginger alone again because Dani had taken Braelynd with her to the store or something.

So, Dad and I grabbed some lunch, then headed back home to get the newsletter done. Dad was incredibly patient with me, I must say. Friday he swore he was going to shut down the shop whether I was ready or not, but I managed to get seven pages finished, take a shower, wrap their present (We have enough paper! Hallelujah!!) and then get back down to the wedding just as — and — were getting into their car to drive away. I don’t think they even saw me, but that wasn’t important anyway. They really had quite a good turn-out and it was a nice little wedding. Best of all, Matt was standing there on the curb so I got him to lug in the stoneware we got for them. It about killed Dad getting it from Sam’s to the car to the house, and I could only get it from the living room to the back door again. Dad had to take it the rest of the way. Matt’s response was, ‘What the heck is in this thing?!’ He was rather disappointed when I told him it was just dishes.

I have no idea how they’re going to get their boodle home. They flew out to his post in South Dakota early Sunday morning. Dad was rather freaked about the whole thing, in his quietly skittish way. There was far too much deja vu at the Hafer building on Saturday afternoon. He rather got stuck in a time warp.

So, after the new Couple — drove away, I had set the copy machine going, Dad remained to the library rather than have to deal with the crowd, and I had greeted Sister — and effused over Ginger’s handiwork which really was absolutely marvelous and didn’t look a bit like the last minute slap-dash that it was, I went back to the library and set to. Fortunately, Ginger and Sister Lewis (I’m not sure if you met the newly arrived Lewises while you were here) brought back two plates of food which was very considerate and well-timed, as Dad was spiraling down into an insulin reaction. But, we got one hundred copies printed, collated and stapled, then stashed in the RS closet until the morrow, and then managed to get some shopping done after that. I think it was pushing eight o’clock by the time we got home, and I’m really, really, really glad Dad had already had his dinner and I didn’t have to fix it after the day that we had.

And, all this time a little tropical depression was brewing out in the Gulf, acting rather erratic and petulant in its youth. Sunday came and went and the tropical depression became Tropical Storm Edouard. Meh.

I think we’re probably going to be driving [a neighbor family] down to church every week for a while—at least until [their grandparents] come back down in the fall. Their car broke down over the weekend and so they had no transportation. They split their family up between us and [another family], but once I got into the car I realized there’s a middle seatbelt in the front where [the youngest] would fit quite nicely, so I can accommodate the whole crew. Their financial situation and the price of gas really can’t peacefully coexist, so car-pooling makes all the sense in the world. I don’t think it will take [the husband] much to convince [the wife] of the wisdom of it.

The Relief Society newsletter was as effective as always as a Fast Sunday reverence inducer, and we’re getting less and less particular about the gender of the recipients. I’m starting to get back into the groove after taking back the publishing duties from Sister Elsasser. The April issue was pathetic, May was a complete wash, and June and July were only two or three pages long because I tried wrangling with Word which is impossible. So, because that won’t work, I removed the program that WordPerfect couldn’t get along with and now things are working marvelously. Besides, do I really need Visual C+++ on this computer? I think not.

Monday morning came with tropical storm warnings and hurricane watches which continued all day. The silly little storm sidled up to the coast as close as it could and still maintain its form, then slowly skittered along it west by northwest for the better part of the day. Making a beeline toward Galveston. Then it stopped and parked southwest of New Orleans (I don’t think they got a drop of water out of it), and Dr. Neil began to fret. The longer it stayed out to sea, the better its chances of reconsolidating its tattered edges and then be an out-right hurricane once it landed at Galveston. They predicted landfall at 1:00 pm on Tuesday but weren’t issuing any evacuation orders or anything—not even Galveston.

We watched it all day, and after Adam had done a walk-through of the house with their own personal inspector without anyone looking over their shoulders, he sent Ariane and the kids up here. They got here about 10:30 pm and we all went straight to be—except Ariane, of course, who hasn’t had the internet for a couple of weeks, at least, and so had a lot of make-up stuff to do and she set to it.

Tuesday morning I was awakened at 6:30 am by Adam calling me to ask what they were saying on the news about Edouard. Danged if I knew. Dad turned on the beast and we cranked up the volume so Adam could hear the forecast, etc, for himself. What a change overnight! Edouard had all of the sudden sped up, sliced heavily to the right, and made actual landfall at Sabine Pass at 7:00 am, but all the forward stuff was already hitting when we turned on the news. And, it was totally weird in that the left side of the storm provided the most wind and rain, leaving the towns that had actually evacuated (Sabine Pass, Port Arthur, etc) relatively unscathed. Ironically, because it landed at Sabine rather than Galveston, instead of Stafford being square in the storm’s path, it passed north of them, putting us in the more exposed position.

It had already started raining so Dad decided to work from home and had his morning meeting over the phone. The news folks were telling everyone it was safest to stay off the roads and were showing some shots of the rain falling in buckets, only blowing sideways. We had a good steady rain all day, enough to bring the sorely neglected grass back to life, but I don’t think we heard a clap of thunder nor saw any lightning, and had a breeze, at best, not even a stiff one.

Alora and Aaron knocked about the house all day being bored to tears. The weather wasn’t severe enough to be interesting to them, but it never let up enough so that they could play outside. We all lived, though, and are very grateful. Unfortunately for the Robinsons next door, they had chosen Monday as the day to rip up their driveway and have it completely replaced. Now I don’t know when they’ll be able to replace the concrete.

Shake 'em up, baby, now!

2008-07-30T08:00:00.000-07:00

July 30, 2008

Dearest Son,

Well, I guess yesterday’s rumbler rounded out your natural disaster experience, neh? First hurricanes, then wild fires, and now this? If you count the tsunami that hit near Tahiti or wherever while you were in Samoa, you can consider my fret factor complete.

I’m sure you felt at least a little bit of it out in Victorville. I’m really glad you got transferred out there and further away from the epicenter, which was in Pasadena. I know there wasn’t a lot of damage done (no freeways collapsing on cars, etc), but I’m glad you’re in the desert anyway. You know, you never told me the name of your last ward or your area.

I hope by now you’ve figured out that I transferred some money into your account. Actually, I did it last Wednesday and felt positively wretched that it took me so long. I had been thinking about it for days, then totally spaced it until you mentioned your straightened circumstances. Forgive me, and don’t do without because you fear we’re pinched. We’re not, and no matter how much we were, you are doing the Lord’s work and we will always support you in that. Always.

I sent you a copy of Elder Bernards’ latest letter. I think Jami got it yesterday. Did I happen to mention that they’re definitely moving to Arkansas. Brad thinks he has a line on a job at Sam’s Club corporate headquarters there, the living in cheap, Jami will make a boatload of money on selling her business, as they will if they manage to sell their house, so they’re planning on setting up a bed-and-breakfast somewhere on a lake and be close to Sam who works for Walmart. They’re taking the three youngest boys with them, but Rachel already has already moved into an apartment in Orem or something, and Rachel and Kiki have been independent for a long time.

Sheesh! How happy I am all my sons won’t scatter across the country in search of employment but will wisely settle right here where they belong.

Everything here is good and quiet. The house project keeps rolling along. I asked Ariane last week if she was starting to pack, and she said, “ha! I finished packing a month ago!” They’ve got a move-in date of August 15th, but it may be longer, depending on how the builders deal with the walk-through. Ariane refuses to sign anything until all the mistakes are repaired, won’t trust them to their promises of fixing it later, etc., and she doesn’t think three days (walk-through on the 12th, sign papers on the 15th) is time enough to fix any problems. At this point, Adam is ready to settle the deal and accept what they get as good enough. Dad is of Adam’s mind. I’m of Ariane’s. It will be interesting to see exactly what happens. I’m betting on a compromise. I think Ariane will get them to do the walk-through two weeks earlier like they originally promised—or, if not two weeks, at least a week, and she’ll accept the little nit-picky stuff as long as any big problems are corrected.

She and the kids went to Louisiana this past weekend with Cheryl and Monty. Adam had to work all weekend adding 40% more storage space in the warehouse and re-instituting they’re shipping process which he has streamlined and brought into international standard requirements. The Montondons were headed out for a visit with a great-aunt or something, and so Ariane went back with them Thursday after Monty’s shift at the temple.

They’re not quite sure when the Montondons are going to move in. They’ve been telling everyone they’re going to move in ‘after’ Adam and Ariane, but the A2's are clueless as to what that means. They’re going out to Groves this weekend to pow-wow and help the folks with a yard sale, and I’ll be keeping the kids here. Maybe. If Dad lets me. My health has been less than stellar for the past couple of weeks, and I think we may have to compromise and have them take Aaron and leave Alora. Anyway, that’s the big plan for the weekend.

Everything else is pretty quiet around here. I’ve actually started writing again, after a fashion, and I’ve finally figured out how to end the book, which has been my big struggle this whole time, but, I think this will work. It better, or these publisher directories I bought will have been a waste of money and I’ll have to turn around and buy the 2009 version. So, that’s my story this week, and I’m sticking to it.

I’ve been earnestly trying to beef up our food storage. I actually bought some stuff rice and wheat from the church site, and have about 75 fo rice stored up at this point. I think I’m going to work out a deal with Ariane and see if she can go to the cannery and I watch the kids, and I’ll buy some of her stores. It’s an idea, any way. They have a huge space under their stairs which is perfect for storage.

Dad keeps dragging himself to work and back home again. He actually had to work this Saturday as well and managed to live through it. We had a little bit of wind and rain from the tatters of Hurricane Dolly, but not much else. Interestingly, the Richmonds were actually down in Brownsville when it hit and were right in the eye of the storm. They managed to get through, however, and get home in one piece. They had a reiteration of the preparedness counsel, of course. I rather suspect we can all use a little rumbling under the feet now and again.

Not much else going on around here. I’m going to the temple this morning with Sister Schadler, so I won’t make this long. Write and tell me the money came through okay, and let me know if you need anything more.

All my love,

mom

The Y Chromasome

2008-07-21T21:19:00.000-07:00

In perusing the pictures on the right column of this page, one may assume that, since the pictures of male members of this family are a full 25% longer than those of the female persuasion, that the masculine is perceived as more important. That would be an erroneous perception. If you will note the distance between the eyes in every one of the pictures is scaled and relative to every other. The perspective is the same. Quite simply, it is impossible to make a square picture of the aforementioned gentlemen and still have it be in the same proportion as those of the ladies. Although it may surprise you, the cold hard truth is, Freeman men have elongated faces to match their incredibly oversized heads. It is an astonishing fact, but, there it is.

Actually, I'm posting the picture above because while I was reviewing the hundreds of photos on my computer and attempting to capture those which best capture the essence of each, I noticed an astounding thing which I hadn't noticed in more than 23 years. Adam and D2 have the same crooked smile. I have always been aware of D2's, and I had noted the similarities between his and Aaron's, but I suppose it took such a picture as the one above (at D2's wedding in May), and capturing both Adam and D2 grinning to crack their faces in the same split second, to illustrate the striking similarity. Of course, I immediately traced the trait to their dad, although one has to be sharp on the look-out to see it. (It's under that mustache, I promise). Paul's is not quite so striking, but it's there. Like his dad, he is less prone to grinning and I had to search high and low for a good illustration, but finally found it in this picture taken the day before he left on his mission. What I cropped out was the source of the grin, being six or eight young ladies come to take their leave.

Anyway, I thought it was cool.

Long Time Passing

2008-07-21T20:59:00.000-07:00

July 21, 2008

I’ve been planning for at least eight months to get this blog up and running but have postponed and procrastinated endlessly in favor of more important things. I had decided that rather than send out a Christmas newsletter onto which I could never cram everything using one sheet of paper, back and front, in 8 pica type, it would far better serve to have a blog. However, my biggest stumbling block to doing this was the fact that it’s been so long since I’ve sent out a Christmas letter. How do I even start trying to fill in the blanks? So much has happened to our family over the past five or six (or eight?) years, the very thought of trying to chronicle it was daunting indeed. Add that the fact that no one would really want to read the most insignificant details of our family’s day-to-day of the past decade, and it definitely did not seem worth the effort.

However, I started managing a couple of blogs for my extended family to enable us all to keep track of our missionaries, I came up with a name of this one, and then started a blog for our ward Relief Society, which finally led me to starting this site. Now that I’ve fiddled around with it enough to get it looking as I wish, I decided to dive in, ready or not.

First, a roll call:

Dallas is still working at HP and is currently into turning the excess wood on our property into hand-carved canes. He’s also fascinated with the fine art of honing knives, which makes me about the most spoiled cook on the planet, as I cannot abide a dull knife.
I am no longer working as a medical transcriptionist due to some physical quirks obtained pursuing that occupation. However, I keep busy with nana-ing, church work, research, and writing. I keep swearing that this week I’m going to submit my manuscript to somebody, and expect to be a published author with a contract for four more novels and movie rights to the first within the next month or so.
Adam, after having served two years in the California San Jose Mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, returned home in December of 2002, met his future wife, Ariane Montondon, in February of 2003, and they were wed in the balmy atmosphere of a Texas August. On May 11, 2004, Alora Grace was born. Adam is well on his way to a promising career in supply chain management. He is Logistics Manager for Tornier, Inc. (USA), a French company which manufactures artificial joints. He will graduate from the University of Houston in December of this year. He plans on one day going on to get his masters in business administration but for right now doesn’t even want to think about another text book. He’s ready for a break. The A4's moved to Stafford, Texas, to be within minutes of Tornier and are currently in the finishing stages of building a new house in Richmond. As far as that is (comparatively), we have been truly blessed in having them so near.
Ariane Montondon, Adam’s lovely wife, born and bred in southeastern Texas, served for eighteen months in the Idaho Pocatello Mission and returned just shortly before Adam in 2002. They spent the first three years of their marriage living just a mile away, and Ariane has become an integral part of our family, a lifeline to which I cling at times when I feel my sanity slipping. It’s wonderful not to feel a lone woman in a wilderness of testosterone. The boys called her ‘princess’ while the novelty of having a daughter was still new to us. (They complained that not one of them ever got away with the stuff Ariane did, which is true, I admit but am woefully non-repentant). However, they quickly forgave her our favoritism because, well, she is Adam’s perfect complement, and D2 and Paul both need a big sister around. With much personal sacrifice and suffering, she has given us two beautiful grandchildren, Alora Grace, age four years, and age Aaron Monty, two years.
Dallas 2 graduated in 2003, spent the rest of the year at BYU, and then returned home to earn money for his mission. He served for two years in the Brazil Maceio Mission and returned in December of 2006. He was off to BYU again within a few short weeks, where he started working immediately for the Global Resource Center (technical help for users of Church computer systems). D2 will graduate in 2009 with a degree in mechanical engineering, and plans to go on to earn his master’s in biomechanical engineering. Adam’s career in the medical implant industry has caught D2's imagination, and he intends to design artificial joints.
In the spring of 2007, Lynda Richmond was in the final weeks of her freshman year at BYU when she started dating a guy in her religion class. As it turned out, he haled from the greater Houston area, the same as she—in the Stake next door, in point of fact (until it split), with only a matter of ten miles separating their homes. Although she returned home at the end of the semester and he stayed to work and go to school, D2 and Lynda were engaged by the end of the summer, and were married in May of 2008. Like Dallas, she is attending BYU and plans to major in voice. She sings beautifully, and surely Dallas first fell in love with her stunning blue eyes. It’s a challenge to become better acquainted with her since they live 1500 miles away, but we’re looking forward to the time when (hopefully) they’ll return home to Texas for good.
Paul graduated in 2005, and stayed home to work. After he finally turned 19 in 2006, he was called to the Apia Samoa Mission. He left in October, two months after his birthday, and just missed Dallas who returned from Brazil six weeks later. Paul hit the tarmac running when he arrived at Apia. Unfortunately, his feet couldn’t keep up, and after spending nearly have his mission attempting to convert his soles to the only true environment, the mission doctor finally determined it was time to move on. (Our complete family portrait was taken when Elder Freeman was home during August of 2007). He spent five weeks here in Houston on an inter-mission while his feet healed (with dear old mom as his constant companion), then transferred to the California San Bernardino Mission, Samoan-speaking. He loves the work and the people there, and after almost nine months of serving both Samoan wards, he is now serving in a ‘palangi’ ward, just for a change of pace. We don’t know his plans come October. When he left, he was determined to continue his pursuit of owning his own recording studio. However, he changes his mind nearly as often as he changes his socks, so it will be interesting to watch him over the next year or two. Of course, we all expect him to hold to the company mandate of taking a southeastern Texas girl to wife.
If I start talking about Alora and Aaron, I won’t quit, so I’ll simply say, being Nana is my absolute favorite diversion and/or occupation. And, you’ve never known Dallas until you’ve seen him as Papaw. He and Aaron seemed to have a connection from the day Aaron was born, and the more he matures (Aaron, not Papaw), the easier it is to trace the similarities between them. Alora, the quintessential little girl, all little ribbons and lace, princess pink and chatter, was born to dance, just like her mom. The pictures I have posted capture the essence of both tykes perfectly. They are sunshine and laughter, bright, inquisitive, and energetic, and of course the most beautiful babies ever to grace the planet.

And, that’s us, the Fabulous Family Freeman. Thanks for dropping by. Y’all come back now, ya hear?

Mormon belief: Mormons believe God speaks

2008-07-15T22:30:00.001-07:00

Please read, rate, view, embed this video and share and email it to your friends and family. Answer the questions proffered by friends of other faiths. Help keep this and other positive messages about the Church at the forefront of the debate.

A Freeman Fourth of July

2008-07-09T11:20:00.000-07:00

Written and sent to Elder Paul Freeman July 9, 2008

Dearest Son,

Well, another week has gone by and here I am, procrastinating getting a letter written to you. It’s not that I don’t think about you or that I don’t have any thoughts to share. It’s just the chore of organizing those thoughts and committing them to some sort of coherency can be a rather daunting task at times. Weekly excuse filed: check.

We had a good week this week, as hopefully you can tell by the pictures I posted. It was unadulterated, if exhausting, pleasure.

As it turns out, we did have the celebration on the 4th after all, as Wendy, Austin’s wife, had plans of her own involving her visiting cousins, which she failed to discuss with Austin, so, the whole thing was transferred over here at the last minute. Ariane got rather frustrated with the way the snafu was handled, she’s afraid that it reflects poorly upon her relations hip with Wendy, as she wouldn’t discuss it with her directly but rather through Austin, but, the thing was such a success, hopefully things will smooth out between them and they can chalk it all up to bad communication.

It started Thursday, actually, when Ariane brought her car up to JK because it started shimmying really bad when she got her tires replaced. As it turns out, Dad’s given over JK in favor of the guys who finally figured out the problem with the Taurus’ electrical system, so Ariane took it down there. It was pretty cool. Dad came home early that day, and when he took her back to pick up the car, the guy said, “If this is your father-in-law, you must have a pretty great husband.” She said she thought she did. The coolest thing about it is that Dad was there to hear it. I don’t think he really believes he makes a difference. But then, he’s Grandpa Freeman’s son. How could he help but be that way?

So, since the A4's really wanted to come up to the pancake breakfast on Friday morning, we decided to have the kids spend the night, which they did. Then, the three of us popped up in time to get there by 8:15 (only 15 minutes late), and socialized and played stuff, until Adam and Ariane finally arrived just when things were wrapping up. That’s when I finally got the opportunity to start taking pictures, so they aren’t as comprehensive as they could have been. They are a good extension of the other ward activities within the past month, i.e., zone conference and the Stewards’ going-away party.

After that, we stopped at a yard sale I stumbled on as I went up Butte Creek. Adam decided to brave THE intersection, so I had to call them and ask them to come back because they had a pristine toddler bed for sale for $20 bucks, which was why I slammed on my brakes in the first place. They had already crossed the bridge, so I talked them through coming the back way on Woerner, and by the time they got there, Aaron and Alora had gone a bit wild in the toys spread all over the lawn that were equally acceptable. It was really hard to say “no” just on general principles because everything was a dollar or less, but I refuse to become the compulsive yard scrounger Monty has become, so we only took a few fun outside toys and let the rest. Then, the lady just had to give Alora a set of dress-up crowns just because she’s so cute.

Ultimately, Adam and Ariane decided they really didn’t want another toddler bed. Rather, they’re in the market for a twin bed. That way, both Alora and Aaron will move up. And, since I really don’t have the need or the space for a toddler bed, we left that fantastic deal just sitting on the lawn.

So, then we went to Kroger to pick up a few things I had forgotten, and when we got home and found Dad messing with the banana tree. You really need to figure out a name for her, sweetie, as well as her two sisters (or babies, whichever is appropriate) that Dad transplanted that day. We really thought the thing was dead in March, but deep inside the withered, dried, brown stump of a shoot was one surviving leaf with enough determination to fight its way out, and, well, you can see the results. The primary plant really is quite gorgeous. Dad’s not certain the smallest of the transplants will survive, but I’m willing to bet it will. We didn’t even think the first one would survive last summer because it got baked in the car.

It was good to see Dad out working in the yard. He insists on mowing the lawn himself, which I hate to see him do, but I know it’s something to get his heart pumping, so I don’t have Ty or Truman do it. He hasn’t whacked down any bushes lately. His cane craze seems to have abated somewhat, perhaps because there are so many around he has to give it a break while they cure.
Anyway, the evening before, as I got Alora and Aaron to pick up the sticks and pinecone around the yard (we had had a fairly hefty storm), I bribed them with a ‘special treat’ once we got finished. They were delighted when I gave them figs picked right off the tree. So, the next day, They helped Adam pick as many as were ready that week, which were quite a few, and Ariane made a fig cake, rather than a date cake, for dessert.

Then, everyone came in and crashed. The whole house was virtually silent until about five, until I decided I better start fixing dinner (the brisket went in at one, don’t ya know).
Ashley, Holly, Atticus and Cecily got here about 6:30, then Austin, Aiden and Eliana. Of course, we didn’t eat until 7:30, but that was good because the kids were really itching to get going on the fireworks. (And, by kids, I mean Adam and Ashley, of course).

We shooed them out to play in the back yard (with the cool toys I got that day), Adam started setting off smoke bombs, and then I remembered the bubble wands Dad had picked up at Wal-mart just because they were there. Ashley, Holly, Austin and I were all making these huge streams of bubbles and filling the back yard with them, and the kids were delighted. That was good.

Alora is the most game little kid I know. Aiden is too coddled and overreacts to everything, Atticus can get over his apprehension with a little coaxing, but man, Alora — there is no such thing as ‘can’t’ to that kid. If she has any fear, she does a fantastic job of getting over it. She was the first one to try out the sparklers and the only one to find them the least bit fun. Even though Cecily and Elly doing a pretty fair ‘follow the leader’ when she decides to do something, the cinders spurting their way got old really quick. Unfortunately, the sparklers were complete duds, and by the time Ashley figured out how to make them work, Adam and crew had already moved on to the next thing.

Aiden ran into the house crying with the first brick of firecrackers Adam set off. Of course, he set them off in the driveway next to the house, so all the sound was boxed up between the two houses, the driveway, the patio, and its roof. It was loud, but the timorous tykes ran into the house with their fingers stuck in their ears. Alora ran out to see what Dad was doing.
The rest was really cool. The kids had a blast. There were enough people to make it a celebration, but not so many that you couldn’t enjoy one another’s company. Since his last raise, Adam now has a bit of money to jingle in his pocket, and he and Dad split the cost of the fireworks, so you can imagine what they came home with. (They were gone forever). Then, Ashley brought some of his own. I rather imagine next year Austin will bring a share because Aiden actually was coaxed out of the house (still with his fingers in his ears), when it grew too obvious that all the fun was outside.

The best part was, we sat in the middle of a fantastic array of fireworks families. There were folks up in the Glenmere cul-de-sac shooting stuff off, as well as the Micrantha Court folks who are there every year. Then, there were folks on the street right behind us, so we were never at a loss for mortar fire. Once, purely coincidentally, we heard simultaneous foomp-foomp-foomps! From both Macrantha and Glenmere, and then the whole sky lit up with fireworks because both streets set up multiple mortars. It was really cool. Adam interpreted the act as laying down the gauntlet. Unfortunately, we only had two tubes. He would have had to have six to compete. It was cool.

Of course, then there were Ashley’s finned rockets that Dad wouldn’t buy for all the world. The first two went wild but were benign. The third went onto our neighbor’s roof and got caught in the gable, so we sat there and watched it send sparks flying everywhere until it finally burned out. Fortunately, they weren’t home. Doubly fortunately, Dad had gone inside and didn’t see it. Ashley put them away after that.

So, that was our holiday. We didn’t get around to making ice cream sandwiches. The watermelon was great, though, and Ariane’s cake was good but bizarre. When she omitted the dates and water, she also omitted the baking soda, and the blended figs were really, really thick, so it turned out this flat custardy sort of thing which everyone loved anyway. We spent a lot of time talking about preserving and cooking with figs that day.

Dad stuck it out longer than any expected. One a couple of the pictures I posted you can see his stockinged/sandaled feet, and his cane. He was leaning heavily on it before he called it quits. It was good, though, and I know he can do without these things just as well as I can, which is not at all. It’s taken us this long to get over it, but it was worth it. And, I did get the newsletter out on Saturday and stayed for all three hours on Sunday.

Speaking of Sunday, Ben Steward gives his homecoming address this coming Sunday. I don’t know how long he’ll be down here, but I guarantee that he’ll be on Facebook within a week or two, if he isn’t already. The rest of his family is, including his mom. So, you’ll definitely be able to keep in touch with him.

Matt Court right is still going to get his papers in pretty soon. I think he turned 19 in January or something, but the whole paperwork/making connections issue seems to be a lot of the problem. He’s really gung-ho to go, however; the exact opposite of what he was when he first graduated. I can’t remember if I told you that the whole Sagastizado family were down here for Doug’s wedding, so I got lots of pictures of them as well. I’ll send you the link just in case I haven’t done so already.

Ah. Sherrie Olsen got a mission call to the Spain Malaga Mission. I’m not certain exactly when she’s going. And, Flora Bruno reads your letters every week. And Dusty Scott is on his mission (somewhere where it snows), and Kim got married and is going to have a baby. She’s another one who found me. I had no idea who Kimberly Burr was. I had to see what friends we had in common before I had the least clue.

Well, dude, that is one thoroughly long and completely pointless letter, except to tell you that you were definitely missed this past week. Whenever we do something like this, you’re always in the forefront of my thoughts. I am so proud of you for who you are, what you are doing, and the sacrifices you are making to accomplish what you’ve set out to do. But, I miss you. We all miss you. When Alora talked to Dallas on the phone the other night, she said, “When are you coming home from your mission?” She still has Uncle Paul on the brain.

Okay. Here are a few links you can take a peak at, and your comp won’t eye you strange because you’re spending so little time on the computer.

First, ward stuff:
http://picasaweb.google.com/freemom/OldeOaksWard070408
http://picasaweb.google.com/freemom/TheStewardsFarewell
http://picasaweb.google.com/freemom/ZoneConferenceJune2008

Then, Dallas & Lynda’s wedding proofs:
https://www.collages.net/ConsumerSite/GuestLogin.aspx?eventcode=342691 You have to log in, but that’s just so they can tell you to hurry because time is running out. Don’t worry about it.

Finally, check out the blogs your mom has gone a bit nuts with. That’s a whole ‘nother letter in itself, but that’s another story.

There you are. Love you.

Mom

ps
Here are the blogs. Steadfast Faith in Christ has a new look. I'm trying to get FabFreeFam off the ground. The RS one is a work in progress, but I hope will be quite useful to the sisters of our ward, as well as others who may stumble upon it. My biggest hope is that it will help the less active sisters connect with and feel a part of the Relief Society.

http://steadfastfaithinchrist.blogspot.com
http://amormonfamilyjournal.blogspot.com
http://fabfreefam.blogspot.com
http://oorsweeklyupdate.blogspot.com

And, a new one that I started yesterday, just to break out of the blogspot bubble:
http://amormonjournal.wordpress.com

I haven't done anything with it yet, but I hope to put 'O Jerusalem' as the art header. It will probably be primarily a mirror site of A Mormon Family Journal, but I don't know. We'll see.

Love ya,

mom

Happy Birthday, Grandma

2008-06-07T21:04:00.000-07:00