My kingdom has been secured.

So, yesterday Steve and I went to the doctor. Everything is OK at the moment (no need to worry) but he asked us how long we'd been together. I realized we've been together 15 years, of which we've been married for 13 of them. (Ask Steve, he'll say we've been married for 30 years at least...)

Anyways, on the way out, the doctor put his arm around Steve and said "Don't worry. Your kingdom in heaven has been secured - you picked a good guy."

Whoa. That was the most LDS thing I've heard, right next to "I'd like to turn the time over to..."

Now, we're not LDS. My mom pulled me out of the church when I was 7, but I continued to go off and on as a teenager, and my grandparents on both sides were LDS. (Yes, Grandpa B. was LDS, despite the fact he owned a bar, cussed up a storm, drank and smoked up until 10 years before his death. However, the offset to this is that he was a very knowledgeable man with great advice, he demanded respect with his presence, and I miss him.) My parents were also sealed in the LDS temple when I was 5 or 6. I understand that the LDS believe that the husband is to secure the wife's place in heaven, and they're married for all eternity.

My husband, on the other hand, was raised Catholic. He's read the book of Mormon and has his own understanding of the LDS religion. But, most of our recent discussions about the LDS religion and their beliefs usually take place after watching Big Love. We both know that this show doesn't correspond with what the LDS church currently teaches, but it's still funny to us since we live in the middle of the "Zion Bubble" yet we aren't LDS. For me, it's being an outsider watching the outsiders from the far extreme of where we sit, while in the middle is the LDS culture.

So, after the doctor leaves, Steve and I both look at each other and laugh a little. It was the most LDS thing someone has ever said to me. And that's pretty good since I live here in Utah.

My value as a person should not be based on my reproductive decision (or lack thereof.)

So, every once in a while, I get on a bitter streak about not having kids. It's not that I want them, or that I don't. To be quite honest, I haven't made up my mind permanently. Steve and I have always taken a "wait and see" approach. If it happens, it happens, and if it doesn't, it doesn't.

But the thing I struggle with is the desire to feel like a responsible human being who contributes to society when I don't have kids. I find it difficult that women my age put value on themselves as a person based on their children. And therefore, since I have none, do I not count?

Don't get me wrong - I think kids are great. I know that raising a kid is not easy. I've witnessed and assisted with raising two myself. I've also been told it can be very rewarding. I'll keep an open mind about that. My brothers turned out to be great guys, but I don't deserve any credit for that. There were many others involved, including my mother, and they had great personality traits as well.

It also seems that no matter how bitter I am, someone else is more bitter. I found an entire website dedicated to the "voluntary human extinction movement." (Google it if you want to learn more. I don't want to appear biased - I don't completely agree, but I don't disagree, either - my opinions tend to change on this subject daily.)

On this site was a link to another essay by Corey S. Powell. It's called "20 Ways the World Could End Swept Away." Since I was old enough to understand global tragedy, I understood that entire masses of people, entire cultures, are often wiped off the face of the earth - Biblical stories that involve a global flood, the Mayans, the Minoans, etc. The earth seems to "clean" itself. And, if you've seen Wall-E (I know, the world according to a Disney Cartoon may not count as philosophical research, but follow along anyways), our planet is destined for failure based on our over-consumption. Therefore, this article may have a hint of truth at some point.

Speaking with a coworker, he commented that by not having kids, if the world ended, I could take a sideline seat to the show since I'm not invested. (I'm not saying he's bitter, but his point was very ironic. He also doesn't have kids - yet.)

So please, don't feel sorry for me that I don't have any kids, or tell me that I should have some. Please don't think I'm selfish for not having any. My decision to have kids will be between my husband and I, and my value as a person shouldn't depend on that decision.

Valentine's Dinosaurs

While we were in Vernal, we saw the strangest Dinosaurs. I know the people who live here are used to this, but it's still very strange to me.

Come on now - there's really no scientific proof that Dinosaurs were not pink, is there? Maybe they figured this would be their version of a pink flamingo.

This one has been domesticated to sit and hold a sign, like a good dog. Unfortunately, my picture of a dinosaur wearing a bikini didn't turn out, but I'm not lying - a hotel across the street has one!

I'm ferocious, I'm the king of all dinosaurs, I'm.....dressed as cupid. Yeah.

Happy Valentine's day!

This used to be my playground....

From the time I was two years old until I was 11, I used to live in Roosevelt. Now, keep in mind that my parents weren't exactly rich. But the double-wide trailer I lived in was owned, not rented, like some of the other trailers in the area. This is the house I used to live in:

Yes, it was always that ugly yellow-green color. But the porch used to have an awning-cover on top, and the fence wasn't there. Funny, it seemed bigger when I was a kid. And my parents took very good care of it. (Not sure who lives there now, but if it's your house, let me know if you mind that I posted the picture.)

This was my best friend's house. She had five brothers and sisters, which means eight people lived in this three-bedroom home. They always kept it clean, and I hung out here a lot:

Now one sister is a doctor, another is married to a doctor, a third is married to a lawyer, she's a social worker, not quite sure where her brothers live, but her Mom and Dad own a beautiful home in Draper. Good things come to those who wait - and work very, very hard.

When I was about 9 and my best friend was about 11, my mom used to drop us off at Marion's (far left). We would have a hamburger, chips, and a drink for $2.00, and could get an ice cream for $1.00. The people who owned this place knew my parents. On the other side of the theater in the picture is a bar. One time, a drunk Ute (think Indian tribe, not football) tried to come in. To protect us, the owner locked the door until the guy left. They were great people.

When I was six, I was in a school program. After the program, Mom brought me here for a sundae. While I was eating it, plaster fell from the ceiling and fell right into my sundae. The owner dished me up a new one so fast, I hardly had time to figure out where the plaster came from. If you wonder why plaster fell from the ceiling, well, have a look. This picture was taken in 1956, from the opposite angle of my shot. It's the place that says "Lunch":

Mom used to drop us off at Marion's, we'd spend an hour here and then around the corner to the brand new bowling alley:

Like my house, it was much more impressive when I was younger. It used to be brand new back in the mid 80's.

This used to be a Pepsi distribution center. In front of it was our bus stop.

In the summer we would ride our bikes over here and buy a can of soda for a quarter from their machine. We thought we were so grown up, buying our own sodas. My dad worked here for a little while, too. We used to joke that they fired him because he drank Coke.

A half hour away from Roosevelt is Vernal. They had this really cool water slide called the Aquanoodle:

It's called something else now, and doesn't look like it's still in business. There's a UPS distribution center right next to it. Steve thinks that they air-drop the packages, and use the old water slide to slide them on over to the distribution center. The one and only time I wore a bikini over the age of 3 was here - I was 9, and we went on a school field trip. It was so much fun, since we didn't even have cable TV in Roosevelt yet.

And last, and still in Vernal, is Tyrannosaurus Rex. He's been moved to a new museum, across the street and down a ways from the old museum:

When I was about 4, my mom and dad took me to the museum. When we walked past Rex, my dad would say that if I wasn't a good kid, he'd feed me to Rex. I'd end up in his belly for the rest of my life. And I'd believe him, and cry. Believe it or not, it was a good memory of my dad.

Coming soon: The Vernal Dinosaurs.