Sometimes you just have to take a risk and see what happens.
by the way, i am not promoting gambling.... i was just going through a Casino and stopped to take this picture just so I could post it here and say "life is a gamble" the picture is just representing a figurative analogy.
though, if I decided to put a quarter in, i doubt the world would end.
while I was in las vegas... my nieces ella and ava were having a water fight with my cousin chandler, so I gave them the ultimate weapon: perfume to make him smell like a girl -as you can see cute little ava at war in the background and cute little ella smiling !
I'm going on a trip. Where I am going involves sunshine, and cabana boys. Or should I say men? I am not going on an airplane to get there. The last time I went on a plane, they forgot my wheelchair in Utah! how would you like your "legs" to be left in a different state? yeah, NOT COOL DUDE.
My nephew Elijah is such a stinkin' cute little man! he just turned one. My sister wasn't sure what to do for a party and at the last minute she pulled it off all in one day! it was an adorable party for an adorable little man! the funniest thing was when he smeared his cake all over his face and started massaging it with the frosting!
For Mother's Day I had one of my aides help me wrap the presents that I bought and decorate the table -I just showed her what to use and where to put it (maybe she thought I was crazy when I asked her to use an unused shower curtain for the the table cloth... but it went great with the style and look that I was going for!)
We had french toast for breakast and we got to talk to my brother Parker who is on an LDS mission in Argentina!
A few days ago my nieces, nephew, sister and mom went on a walk. My niece Ella was sitting on my foot-rest and as we were approaching the street that we were about to cross, Ella yelled: "Hurry Jessica! go faster before a car comes and we get in a WRECKED and then you will really be in a wheelchair!"
So people, look both ways before you cross the street and go really really fast before you get in a "wrecked"!
An object made with love and care can be a thing of beauty, a whole, even when it is imperfect; by contrast another one, although flawless, can leave us untouched and strike no sympathetic chord.
True amateurism should not be looked down upon. In times like ours any manifestation of liveliness must be cherished.
To become proficient in a craft resembles the slow and steady process of learning a foreign language: step by step a strange new surrounding becomes familiar. But the joys of new discoveries by far outweigh the difficulties. Nothing good ever comes from work done without prudence, intensity, and indeed passion. If the right attitudes do not yet exist, they have to be developed. The result will be feeling of wholeness that is so often missed in today's work and professions.
Is it not substance and meaning that we are longing for in our daily lives? The most wonderful result of our involvement in craft can be this: to stretch the boundaries of the ordinary and add a new colorful dimension to being alive.
When I was about four years old, my dad painted the den in our house. The den had several shelves, and he was staining them from bottom to top with a dark wood stain. One day, when I was watching him paint, we decided to play a game, he picked me up and lay me down on one of the high shelves. While I waited, I looked at the unpainted shelves above me. The lines in the wood were like the lines in my hand. I was stuck on my back, so all I could do was stare straight up. I couldn’t look to the side without risking a roll off the shelf.
“I need your help. I can’t find Jessica,” I heard my dad yell to my mom. I knew, somewhere in my head, that he might be teasing. But I froze and tried not to let them hear me breathe, just in case I actually could hide. It’s hard to hide when you don’t have fully functional legs or arms. I heard my mom’s footsteps, and as they got louder and she entered the room, she said, “The last time I saw her she was in here.”
My mom knew where I was. A minute ago I was sitting on the floor and she knew I couldn’t walk or even crawl to get somewhere even if I wanted to. Plus I think they could see me. I don’t remember exactly because I was stuck looking up. But my mom played along. She might have shrugged. “I can’t find her—where could she be?” my dad asked. They waited awhile before they found me. My mom and my dad. They let me think I could hide. When I look back to that day, it makes my stomach lurch like strawberries in a blender. I want to vomit. It has been twenty years now and my dad still can’t find me. He doesn't look for me and he’s not playing this time.
As of late, I am not looking for him either. His excuses of inability exhaust me and I refuse his confinement. I imagine he is contemplating up more excuses in his mind...... desperately blaming his inability on the mailman, the little old lady that honked at him, the moon, the stars, by now, like Milli Vanilli, he is probably blaming it on the rain...
.JPG)
