Chanda’s Wedding–Part 1 “The Gathering”

 

I’ve been looking forward to this week for a long, long time.  Besides the fact that we’ve been living under a rain cloud that won’t go away and besides the fact that we haven’t seen 70 degrees since September 2010, (it is dark, cloudy and pouring outside even now,)and besides the fact that  I couldn’t wait to feel warm again in some Arizona sunshine along with being with my family, it was more than a little exciting to take off with a very good friend of mine.  Leaving for the airport just 10 minutes later than we intended to provided some of that excitement and some unexpected aerobic exercise.  We ran, literally, from one place to another as long lines and computer problems added to the intensity of the experience.  As soon as we cleared security, we ran for our gate, saw that our numbers had been called and boarded immediately.  They had completely sold out the flight, so we were very relieved to find seats together.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was finally time to breathe and just relax – stake conference weekend was now a great memory and the kids were set to survive on their own for a week.  I did run into a little spot of turbulence in the airport restroom after the flight, though.  Since there were no bathroom counters, I balanced my camera bag on the edge of the sink in front of me while I washed my hands, then grabbed a brush from the bag to repair the damage I’d done while running to catch the flight.  I began hearing the strangest of clicking noises, but didn’t see any reason to be concerned until I actually looked down and saw that the motion sensor faucets had been filling the pockets of my camera bag every time I made a move.  Bother.  Thankfully, the outside pockets were waterproof, my camera was still dry, and I proceeded to dump out enough water to cook a small package of pasta.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So much for that Arizona sunshine we’d been looking forward to. . .   It was dark and stormy when we arrived at noon, and continued to rain on and off the rest of the day, which was pretty ironic, since when we left Seattle it was just starting a week of pure sunshine, which only lasted until the morning of the day we returned home.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mom had a whole back fence full of blackberries that were ripening to go along with her grapevines, citrus, fruit, and nut trees.  We still have many quarts of delicious applesauce that we made last summer at the cabin that came from apples off her trees.  This is one 81-year old woman that doesn’t know the meaning of the word, “REST.”   (Just wait till you see the landscaping project she is working on at the cabin . . .)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Meet Alexa Faith Petersen.  This is Trevor and Melissa’s little miracle baby that was so premature. and calls Marcy, “Gwama.”   I think she is nearly three years old and weighs just 20 pounds, which makes it a piece of cake to pack her around.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She looks a lot like her father did when he was about that age.  I wish I could dress her up and pose her like Uarda did Trevor so long ago.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Umbrellas would be a waste of space and money for an Arizonan.  Just go with one of these little gems you can fold up and shove in your pocket.  The shirt will dry out soon enough.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She might have been a petite little thing, but she definitely had opinions of her own.  Trying to get her to stop long enough for me to get a picture was like trying to nail Jell-O to a wall.  After chasing her all over the backyard,  I gave up and started to walk in the back door.  She finally realized I was leaving and cheerfully allowed me about three seconds to get my best shot.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I rather like being a Great Aunt and I find this age irresistible.   There is something about a conversation with a three-year old that literally recharges all my heart strings.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Putting together a dinner that everyone could eat – a Tostada Bar, which happens to be one of my favorite meals.  (Take a good look at this picture—there will be a quiz later.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This is a comforting sight that I grew up with.  To me, it is the embodiment of Elder Bednar’s recent teachings when he said,

“ I believe many, if not all, of the most satisfying and memorable accomplishments in our homes, in the Church, in our jobs and professions and in our communities will be the product of this important spiritual pattern – of small and simple things.

“We should find great comfort in the fact that ordinary people who faithfully, diligently and consistently do simple things that are right before God will bring forth extraordinary results.”

My parents are living proof of the truth of that principle.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This little angel gave the very best of hugs.  Every night before she went to bed, she would give everyone that was gathered in the family room a hug, and if she really, really liked you, she would also give you a kiss.  (I got one of those.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Was there anyone else besides me that saw the picture earlier of her working on the Tostada Bar that thought that she was me?  I mean, I thought she was me. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This is not a familiar sight to me even though I grew up in this house.  Geckos were not part of the equation in my childhood-- cockroaches were.  So I guess you could say this is a comforting sight since it is not a cockroach and Geckos don’t make me scream.  Bloody murder.  Big time.  And at least they live on the outside of the house high on the carport wall and not in your shower, or under your bed, or in your kitchen, or in your closet, or in your food, or in your shoe, or in your sheets, or – TILT.       (Sorry, had to stop.  Little case of hyperventilation going on there.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The night we arrived, Jordan had an end of the year spring concert.  We were excited to be able to attend  and watch him perform.  He’s in fifth grade,  but was the only fifth grader to also play with the Sixth Grade “Hot Shots.”  He was presented awards for his incredible abilities on the violin.  This school has quite a tradition of turning out famous violinists and fiddlers who have occasionally come back to visit the school and the director that gave them their start.  There was a whole stage full of string players and a packed auditorium full of family and friends.  Quite an impressive music program and supportive parents to go with it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We’ll be watching for this guy’s name in lights some day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was getting late Wednesday night and everyone was working on getting ready for bed.  I think I was talking to Uarda in the back bedroom when I heard this hysterical howling coming from the front room.  We ran to see who had died or ruptured an artery when we came upon Rhonda, on her knees in the front room, where she had been trying to unroll the sleeping pad Mom and Dad had pulled down for her from the attic.  She couldn’t figure out what in the heck Dad had used to hold it closed until she turned it over – and that’s when she lost it.  I must admit that we all about ruptured an artery as we examined the ancient specimen she had on exhibit.

According to Rhonda,  when she questioned Dad about his unorthodox method of securing the egg crate he replied,  “Now sweetheart, you know we don’t throw anything away around here.” 

Honestly though, it was worth every one of those ruptured arteries every time we thought about it or  somebody new showed up and we had Rhonda retell the story yet again.  What would  you expect from a house full of six girls anyway?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Marcy, Kendi, Melissa and Alexa drove all the way from  Missouri to attend this wedding.  Marcy couldn’t handle a dirty car one day longer though, so we patiently waited and supervised while she worked.  I wonder if she had to pay extra for the cleaning she’s about to get from behind?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Rhonda, multi-tasking while she supervises and points out spots that Marcy missed. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Rhonda flew out a week early to spend time with Mom and Marcy at the cabin and got a head start worming her way into Alexa’s affections.  She then very carefully introduced me to Alexa as her “sister.”  She also continued to refer to me  as her “sister.”  It took Alexa a long time to call me Aunt LeAnn instead of asking Rhonda where “her sister” was.  Something about cheating to keep one’s favorite Great Aunt status will get you only so far.  She even had the nerve to tell Alexa that her sister had red  hair and that she had “sun gold” hair.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You can tell that even though Alexa was constantly being brainwashed, she still wanted to come to her REAL favorite Great Aunt – that would be me.  We finally made it to the Mall, and were off to do a bit of shopping.  From left to right:  Alexa, My sister,  Kendi, Marcy (also my sister), and Melissa (Alexa’s Mom.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A couple of aunts and one 20-pound little girl make for lots of fun – for the 20-pound girl at least.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Alexa was thrilled with the bright pink shoes.  I don’t think the Dillard’s sales lady felt the same way.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In fact, she sort of misplaced her smile until we left the store.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This didn’t end up being your usual shopping expedition.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I think Pooh-Bear and Piglet would have called it an “expotition” as we encountered a wild animal.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Down, Wild Animal, Down.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We descended on Carla’s house Thursday afternoon after the shopping spree to see if we could help.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Carla is one very, very, very busy and organized lady.  She also happens to be the mother of the bride, the ward Relief Society President and accompanies the orchestras at her kids’ schools in her spare time.  We all came to help get ready for the reception and luncheon, but some of us brought more  than others.  Sadly, I am sorely deficient in the creative area and not much good for more than manual labor.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The mastermind behind every good thing that happened.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It just so happens that Marcy got my allotment of creativity with hers when it was all divied out long ago.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When I grow up, I want to be as nice and good as Carla.  It’s no surprise that her daughter, Chanda, is so often referred to as an angel.  “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree . . .”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And Kendi – I’m just sure that she’s the one that soaked up all my singing ability and left me with a three-note range around middle C.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Carla handed Marcy and Melissa a bunch of flowers and told them to go for it and make something beautiful.  Marcy protested that this was not her forte and when in need at home would ask her friend  LuAnn to do the honors.  In the end, however, she and Melissa worked together to come up with a really beautiful flower arrangement.  Davin helped somehow.  I’m not exactly sure what he did, but there is a reason he is standing in the picture.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

To be truthful, it’s never boring when you’re with family.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Meet Mr. Pain-In-His-Neck, or Father-Of-the-Bride.  Poor Lyndon had a terrible time this whole week trying to deal with a pinched nerve in his neck, or something like it that caused him a lot of grief.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And this would be the Lovely Bride-Behind-Bars waiting for her Very Handsome Prince.   Significantly more on them later. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We just happened to hit the jack pot.  Thursday night was Chalene’s spring concert.  We got there late, but just in time to see her orchestra play.  And there was Mrs. Mother-of-the-Bride-With-Nothing-To-Do-And-All-The-Time-in-the-World  right behind the piano again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here they are with Chalene getting to announce an award for the awesome accompanist.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Uarda drove down with Art on Thursday and arrived Thursday night.  This is another extremely gifted sister of mine.  She spent a lot of time this week behind this old Bernina in the back bedroom finishing the binding on Chanda’s wedding quilt.  You’ll see it at the reception later.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She and Marcy are holding up a quilt that Marcy made and Uarda quilted.  Uarda has invested in a long-arm quilting machine that is the length of her family room.  It allows her to do this stitching free hand.  She doesn’t use a pattern, but if you look closely at the pictures above and below, you will see how incredibly graceful and proportionally perfect it is.  She is an extremely talented artist and is building up what promises to be a profitable business as word gets around about her unusual skill and ability.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This is a quilt that Uarda made for Mom several years ago.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Well, the gangs almost all here.  Art  took over morning KP duty on Friday and appears to multi-task as well as Rhonda while Candy and Dana should’ve flown in late Thursday night and stayed at Carla and Lyndon’s.  We were excited to finally all be together on Friday, meet Chanda’s fiancée and his family, and get on with the preparations for the wedding. 

But that’s  “the rest of the story”  and will have to wait for the next blog.  These weddings don’t happen in a vacuum anyway.  (That would be quite the picture now, wouldn’t it?)