Confessions of a bread lover

I don’t really have time to blog but sometimes, the words in my head have to be put in print or they won’t stop dancing there, trying to arrange themselves in the shortest but most entertaining way possible.

I haven’t been going to Relief Society evening meetings all semester because I’m gone so much and I just want to be home in the evening with my family. But I went last night. And it was good for the socially awkward (that would be me) because every time I go, I get to know two or three people better. I found out my neighbor used to live in Mona (the Bassett’s bought her house.) But she went through a terrible divorce, had to move, and is now married to a very nice guy and living in Orem--familiar story over which we bonded just a little. J

But something is bothering me and might seem trivial but I have to say it because it might help someone. About 6 months ago, I cut out gluten, mostly. I eat it a little here and there but it’s very limited. I have noticed now that when I do eat white flour (or wheat or spelt flour), it increases my appetite a lot and causes almost instant weight gain. As in the next day. If I’m going to indulge, it can really only be one serving. Is it my age bracket? Does anyone else notice this?

The menu last night? Salad w/croutons, dinner rolls, angel hair pasta, breaded chicken cordon bleu, and angel food cake. Yikes. Talk about flour overload. I knew I could not eat all of that. I had to choose. So I skipped the croutons, the roll, and half the pasta—sorry to be wasteful but better than adding it to my waist. I ate the chicken and the slice of cake was very small, topped w/raspberry sauce and whipped topping. Another peeve of mine—I only eat real whipped cream and don’t understand why anyone ever eats “whipped topping.” But I will let that one go ;-)

I wondered last night how many people in that room had diabetes or clogged arteries and high blood pressure. I wanted to write about the health information I have collected in the last 25 years but I don’t have time to do the research to write it intelligently at this time. (If I don’t find a job soon, I may write a book.)

I have looked at the women a decade older than me and two decades older. I can’t bear the thought of getting any fatter than I already am. So I have to always drink water—no sweet drinks with meals. And I have to skip the bread. And try to skew my desserts to low flour items. Or I make them with oat and rice flour. I am convinced that eating lots of flour products speeds up the aging process. And eating raw foods slows it down. So I guess I’m reaching out to those who are as vain as I am or who just want to still be independent when they are 85 years old. Eat right and go for a walk.

As you were.

p.s. None of this stops me from dreaming about San Francisco Sourdough bread, which my mother raised me on.

5 Love Languages; Kindness

My random thoughts in no particular order or importance:

Have you read ”The Five Love Languages” by Gary Chapman?  My love language is acts of service and it so happens that my husband’s way of showing love is to wash my car, take out the garbage, mow the lawn, do laundry and dishes, and repair everything around the house. This may not sound significant but my former husband had a different MO and it didn’t work so well for me. He rarely to never did those things. This is not a criticism, just an observation. I am positive that things would have been better if we could have read that book years ago. I can’t speak for Keith but I think he is as happy as I am. That saying “Love is better the second time around” certainly applies here. I don’t mean to place blame or cast aspersions; we’ve learned from mistakes and experience. And I am so, so lucky because I am happy!

I’ve noticed in the mirror lately that my eyes look like my mom’s. I was 14 yrs old when she was the age that I am now. I didn’t think I looked like her in any way but as I age, I can see it. I have stayed out of the sun for most of my adulthood and worn a hat, etc. so I thought I was less wrinkled than my peers due to my diligence and vanity. But when I went to my mom’s funeral, I noticed that my cousins weren’t wrinkled either. So I appreciate the Native American genes. And from Dad, I inherited a tendency to not go gray. At 80, he only has gray at the temples which amazes me. I haven’t had to dye my hair yet. Thanks, Dad. But I don’t like getting old. I don’t care what anyone says. I miss my 26 year old body!

Yesterday two yr old William was here communing with one yr old Aurora. He took her by the hand and led her a few steps, then pointed. She nodded her head sweetly. Then he leaned toward her and very gently patted her shoulder. This just melted my heart! It tells me a lot about his personality. Kindness is the trait I admire most in other people. People who are very smart, clever, or intelligent but are unkind impress me not at all. This should explain something to those who were surprised when they heard I was marrying Keith Chandler. He is, without a doubt, one of the kindest people who ever lived. Anyway, I loved observing William’s gentleness with his little cousin because I’ve seen him be rough with Claudya and his parents. It reminded me of Alden when he was little and my nephew, Tyler, who was also very kind to his cousins who were younger.

I’ve decided what I want to be when I grow up. I’m going to pursue Internal Auditing. I just have to get through two more semesters which, at the moment, feels like slogging through mud. But I am stubborn so I can do it!

Now, I must go because there are gluten free chocolate chip cookies to be eaten. They aren’t pretty, as we are experimenting with the recipe still, but they taste great.

Comptons, Chandlers, gluten-free, etc.

July 8, 2012

Today was my nephew, Kevin’s mission homecoming. He is my ex-husband’s sister’s son. I love the Compton family and refuse to stop being part of it. : ) My husband, Keith has known four of the brothers and lots of my nieces and nephews also for a decade and a half so he is comfortable around them. In a way, he has simply married into the Compton family, as much as into the Holmes family. My mother-in-law, Mary Compton’s maiden name was Chandler. When I got engaged to Keith, one of my ex-husband’s sisters said, “I want to be a Chandler!” But I digress.

I hear a lot of people speak in church. It’s been my observation that only a small percentage of people in general are good speakers (20%) and of those, perhaps half or one-fourth have the gift of speech. Kevin has the gift; it runs in the family. He reminded me of some of his uncles and cousins up there. Telling you about it will not do justice but I want him to know how thankful I was that my three youngest, Nathan, Joy, and Sam were listening. They needed to hear what he was saying and I am thankful that he was willing to open his mouth. A lot of the time, Kevin and the audience were smiling as he spoke; he has an engaging way of telling funny stories. But a few times, he made a serious, earnest face, an expression I never saw when he was younger, as he spoke. I hope Nathan soaked in the feeling and that it will help him. I’m so thankful for extended family and how we are able to help each other at various times when needed.

July 25, 2012

Some of you might be interested in our gluten-free experiment. I have three kids who get stomach aches from gluten and do much better if they stay off of it. So for the last two months, I’ve run rice, oats, and quinoa through my wheat grinder and made lemon squares, brownies, pumpkin pie (so good that Richard asked if he could pay me to make it for him) and other things. I’ve lost a couple of pounds, Keith has lost about 6 lbs. and a few of his health issues have cleared up. He had psoriasis for over 20 years and it's gone now. When I have more time, I will put some recipes on. According to my genotype, rice isn’t that great for me either so I’ve been eating millet and quinoa for cereal with raspberries, cream, and almonds. Oh, the deprivation! The sacrifices I make! J Richard has been eating gluten-free for about 4 months and looks completely different like he did 5 years ago when he got married. It’s an amazing transformation. Maybe he or AesaLina will post before and after pics??

We get about 6 eggs a day now—pullet-sized eggs, and we eat from our garden daily (lettuce, zucchini, mint, basil, tomatoes and cucumbers.) Keith gets all the credit for that. I ask him about once a week, “Who would have thought that I would be so happy with you?” He was so quiet all those years ago in the Lebanon Ward that I didn’t know anything about him. I would say most people don’t know the real Keith.

We went to the temple last week and I was admiring the flower beds, trying to get a few ideas for my own yard. Keith indulged my chatter with “mm hmms” and an occasional nod of his head. As we walked away, he said, “Did you see all the perlite in the soil?” World class flower beds and he’s looking at the dirt?? That’s my man.

I am mired in Cost Accounting and studying for a test. The term ends in 2 ½ weeks and there’s a lot to cover in that time so the pressure is beginning to bear on me. I am in the last few miles of the marathon and I am getting close to the finish line. Can’t wait. Better get to work.

Something Good is About to Happen

I’ve been married close to four months now. It’s bliss except for the part where I gained 10 lbs and he lost 5 lbs in that time period. What? Do we need any more proof that God is a man? And no, I don’t think it has anything to do with Haagen-Dazs bars. Why would you ask me that?? He eats chocolate chips by the handful, remember? So I bought a 72 oz. bag of them at Costco last week. No more of this 12 oz. nonsense. For the last 30 years, I lived in a world where the chocolate chips could sit in the pantry for months, untouched. But I can adapt. I’m flexible that way. : ) You need chocolate? Come on over. Well, call me first to put in your request—that’s how Claudya does it. : ) It helps if you are my granddaughter but it’s not a must. Taylor calls pretty regularly to say, “If I bring over strawberries, will you make cake?” He has mastered the art of sounding ever-so-slightly-pitiful-enough to win me over. If you had ever tried my strawberry shortcake, you would know why he does this. : ) If you come to Sam’s baptism this Saturday, you can try it.

Since I last posted, a lot has happened. I inched 6 credit hours closer to my goal, one granddaughter was born, one daughter-in-law announced she is expecting our 10^th grandchild, my youngest child turned eight, and my ex-husband lost his wife of one year to cancer. That last item seems out of place in that list and you might think it shouldn’t concern me. I feel a lot of emotions regarding that situation that I will refrain from expressing here. She was the reason for our separation. I asked her to stay away from him and stop calling him and truly believed that eventually he would come back. Obviously, that didn’t happen. But the outcome today is the last thing I would have expected.

My life is full of family, joy, and light now. Of course, that may just be the Haagen-Dazs bars speaking. I just ate one. Or three. My memory's not as good as it used to be.  : ) I wish I could go back three years and tell myself, “Be still and know that it will be fine. It will be wonderful. Just have some trust that the future is bright.” I had a sticky note hanging on the wall where I would see it every day that said, “Something good is about to happen.” I was in such a low place emotionally that part of me had trouble believing it. Those sappy, happy affirmations are for everyone else, not me. I just have to accept my reality. But it turned out to be true. I know two and a half years doesn’t sound like long to wait for the love of my life to come along. But when you don’t know how much longer, it feels endless. And it’s painful.

So the outcome that I did not expect is that I am pain free. I am happy. I lack for nothing. I am lucky and I know it.

I am only taking one class (Cost Accounting) on a summer block schedule which means a semester’s worth of work is crammed into seven weeks. It feels like a vacation to only have one class so with my extra time, I work in the yard everyday which keeps my fingernails slightly dirty all the time. But I don’t care. The kitchen’s kinda messy but the yard looks good. So all is right with the world.

Brownies that last more than 2 hours?

I am out of school until Monday so now’s my chance to blog. Eighth semester down with 21 credit hours to go. I could finish in two semesters but I’m only going to take 9 credits in the summer and 9 in the fall and finish a year from now. So I can keep my sanity; or at least the appearance of it. It makes me a little sick to my stomach that I have to go back to school and subject myself to … difficult tasks--projects, tests, etc. for one more year. How I wish I was done.

Speaking of which, Alden finished two years of school to be an R.N. and took the NCLEX exam this morning. He has worked so hard for it. How does anyone get through nursing school and pass the exams? My hat’s off to all of you who have crammed all of that information into your heads and survived. He has two little kids and now one more on the way; it hasn’t been easy for Sinda either. Richard finished a bachelor’s last year also with two little kids and one on the way. I am very proud of them for doing hard things even when they didn’t want to. I have a pretty good idea of how difficult it is.

I think the stress of school prevents me from losing any weight. I am trying to cut back on wheat (Richard found out he has celiac and is doing much better on a gluten-free diet). I know I do better on less wheat, too. So I am about to make brownies with quinoa flour. I laugh out loud at recipes that say “Store brownies for up to one week in a sealed container in the refrigerator.” On what planet? If I wrote the recipe book, it would say, “If you hide them, they might last more than 2 hours.”  I raised a bunch of boys who tried their best to eat me out of house and home. But I always stayed one step ahead of them. I guess most people don’t live in that kind of world. I am very fortunate to be surrounded by a great family.

Keith spoke in church Sunday. I know I am biased but he did a very good job; I was impressed. I am so lucky and so thankful for him and my great life. I was scared enough to marry him that he was afraid I would back out. The last thing he said to me, standing outside the sealing room in the temple before we got married was, “When I pinch you, just say ‘yes.’” Now I find the very idea of my hesitance to be funny. He is the best thing that has ever happened to me. I didn’t know then how lucky I was to have found him.

My ex-husband and I divorced because he got engaged to a woman who approached him first, while he was married to me. She’s a very shy, nice person, who felt stricken when she realized she destroyed my family. Not enough to bow out, of course—not sure what she was thinking would happen. But maybe the real reason we couldn’t stay together is because our religious views diverged and neither of us was willing to compromise. They married in Feb. 2011 and now she is dying of cancer. She has breast cancer that has now spread to her lungs, lymph, and liver and she has been unable to eat this last week and he told the kids she probably won’t last but another week or two. I am so sorry. I don’t know what he is thinking; I doubt he regrets anything. He wanted to be part of that group and I did not. Could not. But it turns out, I am perfectly okay. The pain I felt for many, many months was so severe, I thought I would die. But I just kept going, day after day.

I didn’t know three years ago that what I thought was a terrible tragedy would turn out to be a blessing to me. It was the kick in the rear that I needed to go to school. It changed the trajectory of my life. The change in my life has brought me joy and happiness. A few of you who know how I suffered in the beginning may know how significant it is that I can say that.

Brownies with vanilla ice cream await. I told you I have a great life : )

Guilt-free parenting? What's that?

This is the last week of classes, then finals are the week after. The stress is upon me but I thought I’d take a few minutes to say something.

I missed my four year old granddaughter’s birthday party yesterday to make my share of a team powerpoint presentation on the accumulated earnings tax and some other tax homework that had to be done. I love you, Victoria. I sent my husband and three youngest children with a gift in my stead. Is there such a thing as guilt-free parenting? I visited at their house Saturday afternoon, on my way back from taking Melody’s spare car keys to her at Thanksgiving point, and before taking Nathan and his friend to the movie theater. I’m not at all sure that that makes up for missing her party though. I do the best I can.

Only one more school year and I will be done with a bachelor’s degree. I could finish in December if I really pushed myself but I find it harder now that I am married. Fewer credit hours are better. So I will finish in April. Someone tell me what I should do after that. Should I get a master’s degree so I can get the CPA? Should I just find a job? If I go into auditing, do I need the master’s?

While I’m at it, may I say that I am so amazed by and thankful for this man that I married. Losses give you a different perspective and help you give up pettiness and selfishness. We are happy together in part because of our past traumas; we focus on what matters and let everything else go. Maybe I should speak for myself. I have learned to do these things. My tip of the day is marry someone who is nicer than you are—actually, I did that the first time, too but still, it did not end well. That is because he had agency and used it. I couldn’t make him stay any more than he could make me follow the path he wanted to take. If only I’d known what was coming, I could have handled it much better.

It was very hard to be a single parent and full-time student. I didn’t complain, I just kept going and going. Keith has allowed me to figuratively take a breath and give some of the burden to him. I had trouble sleeping for 2 ½ years. When you’re in fight-or-flight mode, your body doesn’t let you sleep even when you are sleep-deprived. Since I married him, I can sleep like a normal person. Yay for delicious miracles : )

Some habits die hard. Keith is working 6 am to 4 pm at one job and 5 pm to 10 pm at another. We can do anything for a year, right?

Two yrs. to 50? It can't be

Yesterday was my birthday. Scary how close I am getting to "old" or at least what I once considered old. I spent about 5 hours studying for the accounting test I will be taking today. But I made time for warm brownies topped with vanilla ice cream. No wonder I’m fat. Went on a date with my thoughtful, kind, talented husband. Claudya talked all day about going to “Grandma’s birthday” but when they stopped by, she was grouchy the whole time—something about interrupted naps? Melody asked me if Alden was temperamental like that and I said, “Yes. And I think I was, too.” I’ll take the blame because I can’t imagine her mommy ever being that way J

And now I am eating buttermilk waffles with maple syrup before I go to the testing center, which always makes me feel a little like a lamb going to the slaughter. One of my professors calls it The Place Where You Can Smell Fear. Not too far off. Then I have an 8 page paper due by Sunday night for Organizational Behavior, which needs 10 sources, 5 of them non-internet. I have written one page so far. Melody is rubbing off on me ;-)

Keith is making a chicken coop. The plan is to have 5 chickens, though we bought 8 in case a couple of them die. Sam thinks it’s his jungle gym. It’s fun to have baby chicks again.

I love being married. Everything in my life is better with Keith in it. I have little to no tolerance for jerky behavior so I married the nicest guy in the world. Those of you who have known him for a long time know what I mean. Hope he can put up with me for 35 more years ;-)

Just one more month and the semester is over! Again, I apologize to everyone I may be ignoring because of school work. Sigh. I am likely going to do a master's degree, too so two more years...Please try to remember me. Especially if you are my child or grandchild.

Trip to Missouri, Excruciating shoulder pain

I have well-polished hardwood floors in my home. (Thank you to my dear brother-in-law, Jaye for sanding and refinishing them right before I moved in.) But if you run across them, slip, grab the banister, and tear something in your shoulder on the way down, you will be sorry. And if you are foolhardy enough to get on a plane the next morning to go see the love of your life and a certain little girl named Aurora, aka Rora Bug, you will suffer excruciating pain without the comfort of your familiar surroundings, your own bed, bathroom, kitchen, etc. You will use up entire bottles of ibuprofen (yes, it was a small bottle) and discover that Advil works better than the generic brand. You will have sudden heart-felt compassion and empathy for anyone who’s ever had a torn ligament or muscle, bad shoulder, or broken bone.

The first day I drove into Lebanon on hwy 64, I felt joyful. I drove that road every Sunday and Wed. night for 12 years. But after about 3 days, I remembered why I love living a couple miles from everything. And this morning when I pulled out onto State Street in Orem to go to work, I felt that same surge of joy. Utah is home now. As much as I love Missouri, it’s not where I’m supposed to be right now.

Luckily for Rora Bug, I couldn’t hold her with my bad shoulder. On the third day when her mother put her on my lap, she burst into tears. The look on her face said, “Mommy, how could you BETRAY me like this and put me on that grandma lady’s lap?? I thought you loved me!” So I didn’t push it. I told her that when she’s three years old, she might change her mind about me like her little cousins, Victoria and Claudya have done. It was fun to visit with Spencer, Michelle and Aurora. We went to dinner a couple of times and saw a movie and had some fun discussions. Spencer is a smart kid.

Spencer loaded my suitcase and book bag into the car the last day and I said, “I had high hopes of doing homework while I was here and I didn’t do any.”

He replied, “Well, if you weren’t out so late with Keith every night, you could have gotten some done.” Oh, Spencer, you make me laugh. Thank you for extending my life a little bit with laughter. Does anyone else remember 17 year old Spencer and see the irony? Maybe you would only see it if you were trying to parent him back then. :-) I think I deserve some credit here. I always made it back to Spencer’s house by midnight. This means I had to leave Lebanon by 11:15 pm. And it brought back a memory that has been waiting for the right moment to be blogged about. When we lived in Missouri many years ago, Richard, my oldest son, had a midnight curfew and chafed vehemently at it. This is not an exaggeration. Just ask him. He wanted to be able to leave Lebanon at midnight and I insisted that he be HOME by midnight. After he came in a few times at 1 am and we had lots of discussion about it, he said, “Fine then! I am moving out.” I think he was 18 at this time.

I said, “Where are you going to go?”

“I’ve already talked to Keith Chandler about it and he said I could move into his house.”

Great. (Sarcasm font needed here.) I knew Keith was a good and decent person, though he had never said one word to me. But I also knew there would be no curfew or rules for Richard at that house. I tried to be supportive and I let the younger boys go there a lot while Richard lived there. I was there several times to drop off or pick up kids but never saw Keith once. I didn’t know then that he worked 7 am to 2 pm at one job and 3 pm to 11 pm at his other job. In other words, I didn’t know he was a crazy person. Melody has a memory of being at Keith’s house late in the evening because JAC was going to pick the kids up there on his way home from Chicago. She tried to watch a movie downstairs by herself while all the boys were upstairs and she got scared. The kids all thought the house was creepy. I can see how a child would think that.

Now the homework awaits in larger than usual quantities. I am happy to be back home. Thank you, Melody for holding down the fort while I was gone.

Thank you, Keith, for a great time.

Official wedding date!

It’s official. I am going to marry Keith Chandler on March 2, 2012. There has been a lot of hoop-jumping to get permission to be sealed. I got a letter from SL Friday and Keith got one today. I can finally allow myself to be excited about the whole thing!! Just a teensy bit. That’s all that’s allowed :) He is likely too nice for me. Those of you who know both of us know exactly what I’m talking about :) but I am going to marry him anyway. He still lives 2000 miles away give or take a few, and we talk several times a day, while I try to stay on top of my homework (22 more credit hours to a bachelor’s degree!) and he tries to wrap up his affairs in Missouri. We need to settle down and be normal, married people now. We will be married in the Mt. Timpanogos Temple at 2 pm and there will be an open house afterward at my house in Orem at 5 pm.

(I know the photo has nothing to do with the blog post but I like it. It's me with my granddaughter, Aurora.)

It’s been three years since my husband, JAC, pulled the rug out from under my world. Some of you don’t know anything about that so at the end of this blog, I will post Melody’s version of what happened the day he walked out the front door. Her version is always better reading than mine.

I despised being single but I was determined to stay that way if the right guy didn’t come along. I am still a little afraid to marry anyone because of my former spouse’s behavior. But I love Keith with all my heart and I know we will be happy together. He is not perfect but he is perfect for me. And he’ll make do, having me for a wife. ;) It could be worse. We are both thrilled to have found each other. Anyone who’s spent any time single can relate.

She wrote this in October for her writing class. I have hesitated to post it and I apologize if it's too much information. One reason I have not is because I don’t want to hurt JAC’s feelings. He would not like this. But it’s what happened from the viewpoint of our 15 year old daughter. This happened the first Sunday in June, 2009. Don’t be sad for me. It was wrenching and traumatic for a couple of years but we are okay. It changed me in a good way.

Written by Melody Compton Oct. 4, 2011. I remember the day my father walked out the door. I wasn’t all that surprised—I’d come to terms with the fact that my father’s crazy train had left the station long ago—but it still made a part of me feel hollow. My three younger siblings and I were sitting near the front door, all of us close together, Sam nestled in my lap. My mother was crying, something I’d never seen her do before. My eyes refused to meet either of their faces, so out of this moment, I recall in a sick clarity my father’s boots. They were large, brown things, with thick lacing, the leather worn down and frayed. They were loud as he marched towards the door, and dried mud was crumbling off them, leaving dusty trails across the blue tile of the living room floor.

Aside from the boots, I remember my mother’s desperate, unsteady voice. “I want you all to know that your father is leaving because he wants to marry another woman.” Her hand was entwined with the long sleeve of his thick, off-white shirt. It wasn’t a violent thing; it was a loose hold, her fingers barely grasping it. “I want you to understand that.”

Her voice was just as broken as the grungy mud now. Just as crushed and trodden on. This was a lost battle, and those words were her admitting that.

“No—No, that’s not it,” I looked at my father’s face now, because both of them were making noises I’d never heard before. Words filled with mixtures of agony and frustration, both trying to make the other understand and neither willing to give in. My dad was crying too. Expressions carved into their faces, ones I’d give my life to never see again. “Your mother—”

But that was the end of that, because my mom had the door open and my dad wasn’t really paying that much attention to us, and then he was outside the door and mom was closing it.

Sam, so little, barely five looked up at me, and I wrapped his little fingers in mine because there was still dirt on the floor and mom was retreating to her bedroom, making the most gentle, keening noises.

My eldest brother and his wife came. They made phone calls, soothed my broken mother, and began packing up the house. It was all in one unsettling lurch that the world began tumbling town. When people say that days feel longer than the twenty-four hours days are allotted—I always thought that was an exaggeration. But the first three days after my father walked out, they stretch and stretch and pulled until I lost track of the day.

We moved within the week. My mother, my two little brothers, my little sister and I all jammed ourselves into a three bedroom apartment that had bad lighting and a weird mold problem. It was nice enough though, and the four older boys all converged on us, taking care of the mold, helping my mother in any way possible, and confronting my father when necessary.

My mom enrolled herself in school that fall. The shock still cloaking us, but what were we to do? My mother was strong. She was going to get what needed to be done, done. She filed divorce papers, discussed selling the house with my dad, and the four youngest enrolled in their schools.


My father was never a very consistent man. He never interacted well with us when we were younger. He had two settings—lecturing and working. This might have been a good role model in our lives if there hadn’t been a few other drastic things playing out in our life. Though it’s not officially diagnosed, I believe my father is mentally unstable in certain aspects of his personality. He always leaned towards the obsessive end of the religion spectrum, and two and a half years ago that tendency careened out of control—my father, under ‘godly inspiration’, insisted my mother join him in his decision to marry another woman. My mother, a strong and stubborn person, refused and my father left his wife of twenty-seven years and eight children to marry another woman.