Saturday, January 22, 2011

For Emily.

The Famdamily

Because she was unable to attend the funeral for our Grandpa because she lives in a frozen tundra called Wisconsin.
Fortunately for her, and very unfortunate for my Mom, she (mom) was in the ER this morning. 
She thought she was dying.
She has a kidney stone.
She could not attend the funeral.
So I took the liberty of taking pictures of everyone and everything to share with them.
Expecially you, Emily.

Grandpa's temporary, respectful, shrine.
Your fantastical work of art, Emily. Complete with tie.
 First you have your cousins, your first cousins,  and then, your second cousins. 

More cousins
One of Mary's kiddos. So cute!

Len and Boretta

A rare moment

Em, just imagine their conversations.  Bill's hand gesture says it was intense.

yum,  Thanks Willow Creek ward ladies!


We gave Billy jelly beans. This was the result.

No.  It is NOT  your father.
Emily, I hope you thouroughly enjoy these pictures.
(and I guess everyone else who reads my blahg)
My Grandad was a wonderful man.
He knew that the Gospel is true.
He is now with us wherever we go.

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

There Aren't Many Cowboys Left

My Grandpa, Lee Foster Brimhall, was one of them.
And he was a poet, gardner, contractor...

I remember when my family and I lived in Boston, and he came to visit, along with Grandma.
He was 77 years old then.
He built me a swing in my 'fort' and was doing chin-ups to make sure it was secure and safe.
Even a week and a half ago, all he wanted was 'a damn Whataburger'.
Pretty much the coolest old dude the world has ever met.

He passed away yesterday, early in the morning.  
Steven and I were, I believe, the last people in this life to say good bye.
It have never felt so much love in my life.
I kept saying, "Go, Grandpa.  We are all okay here."
I also told him that I would tell my children (when they get here) how awesome he was.  
Along with my sister Emily (her blog) my cousin, Autumn (her blog), I am going to post one of his poems.

Cowboy Contractor
Lee Brimhall

One time I was mauled by a big dehorned bull
And he broke me up pretty bad.
My pelvis was shattered and knocked out of place
And eighteen cracked ribs, then, I had.
The bones knitted up together again
And pain was the usual thing.
It was hard to work.  Quite often it hurt.
A new kind of life it did bring.

But I kept on working in the building trade.
It was hard to keep up my end.
When we had to lift and raise a wall
It hurt to stoop over and bend.
So I just kept going as well as I could
I surely could not lift much weight.
I’d bend over slow and not lift up quick
The boss it sure did agitate.

He’d yak at me some like I was a big boob
And not giving it a good try.
If I didn’t shape up I‘d get a pink slip
And then would tell me good bye.
So I told the boss, “I know what you think,
I’m lazy, my load I won’t pull.
You’d understand if you’d been hit in the butt
By a fifteen hundred pound bull.”

So that’s when I studied and passed the test
A contractor, then, I became.
I’d run my own job and also a crew,
Work got done though, my back was lame.
I built spec houses for a living, then,
And moon-lighted cows on Burro Creek
To do something useful along with some fun
Is the main thing I did seek.

That’s how I got started making houses to sell
And trying to do cowboying, too.
With this kind of program there’s not much slack time
And usually there’s plenty to do.
So I’ll just keep plugging and struggling along
Looks like I will work till I die.
I guess I’ll retire about six feet down
When I’ve said my last goodbye.

He was the most hard-working, loyal man I have ever met (besides my own father who inherrited this quality). 
I love you Grandpa. 
I will miss you.
I will tell EVERYONE how awesome you were!
Lee Foster Brimhall

Sunday, January 16, 2011


Steven is a man.
He likes manly things like guns and knives.
It is possible that my father had something to do with it.
For Christmas, he recieved a rifle.
A Mosin Nagant, a fully restored rifle, with  scope, from WWI as pictured below.

And for Steven's 23rd birthday this past July, my father gave him this:

Pretty cool, right?

Both of these items play in to one of the most 'manly' moments of Steven's life.
Yesterday, he got a rifle cleaning kit for the Mosin since we went out to shoot it the Saturday prior.
He sat down to clean it, with a wife-given designated gun-cleaning towel. 
He was so pissed off.

Complaining about how stupid the Winchester people are for packaging the kit for a nuclear bomb, I asked him if he wanted some scissors.
"No, I have my knife" was his reply.
I continued on planning my Primary lesson.
About 3 minutes later....

"Oh crap!"he yelled.
"What?"I asked
"I cut my finger"as he ran to the bathroom.

Leaning over the sink, blood. Lots of blood. 
He got light-headed and turned green. 
I gave him an ice pack and a kitchen cloth and made him lay down with the darned thing elevated.
It totally needed/needs stiches.
Being resourceful, I grabbed my super glue and 'stiched' him up.
I wrapped his little feeeeener(finger).
Once my dad gets home from Mexico, he will probably stitch it up.

As for now, he is a total baby.
He has his finger all wrapped up.
And since it is wrapped up, he can't bend the finger or basically use the entire left hand.
I pinched his bum in the kitchen and he screamed and freaked out because I scared him and made him tense up bend his finger.
I will give him credit though. 
Its pretty gnarly.

And this is the face that I get.
Poor baby.
He should have taken my scissor offer...

Tuesday, January 11, 2011


Since there will no longer be  Activities Committees in the Church, I have been privelaged to recieve a new calling. 
(for folks who are unaware of how the Church works, click there)
I am assuming that because I persued and recieved a teaching DEEgree, and that it was meant to be in my life, the Lord had use for my skillz as well.
I now serve as the CTR 5 teacher.
I teach 5-6 year olds about the Gospel.

As Sunday rolled around, I had made sugar cookies and had the lesson totally prepared.
(I made said sugar cookies because our new schedule results in my class being at lunch time)
I had three kiddos.  One boy and two girls. 
Yes.  It was totally easy. 
I love it. 
One girl asked,
while answering the profound question, especially out of a 5 year old, of 'why do we have bodies?'
Uhhhh.  Ask your parents about that one!


Monday, January 3, 2011

2011 Awesomness

Has already begun.
Here are just a few of the awesome things that have happened in the past 3 days;

It snowed.  It snowed alot.  Steven, Bella and I got snowed in. 
(which leads to the next item of buziness)

Our water pipes froze.  No running water for 36 hours.
(which leads to the next item of buziness)

I had to drive to my mom's to shower.  I parked behind her in the driveway.  While I was showering, she moved my car so she could go somewhere. 
She parked my car, my Hyundai Accent with a lawn mower engine, in the pile of snow that was shoveled from the driveway.
So in blistering cold weather with wet hair and pjs, I shoveled my car out. 
(which leads to the next item of buziness)
I literally have blisters on my feet from being out in the 'blistering' cold.

Anyone seeing a pattern here?
Now, due to this fantesticle weather, and some people's incapacity to do their jobs, other things that are NOT humerous have come to the surface.
You ready???

I still do not have a diploma from NAU. 
I don't have my teaching certificate.
After more than a year, and 5 paid attempts to get my transcripts sent from yavapai college...who now doesn't merrit capatalizaiton in my dictionary....still have not been sent to NAU. 
Thank you yavapai college for making it so I do not have a job because your peeps can't do their job(s).

Now another funny to lighten my's mood:
And again this is due to the weather....

My Synthroid perscription has not been refilled because my Dr has not been in the office.  Therefore, and I don't quite understand why, but it has always been the case,  my eyebrow hairs have begun falling out. 
Consequently, I now have eyebrows like Vanilla Ice.

Word to your mother.