My New Name

I have a new nickname. It seems that Sara Jane and the kids were at a furniture store. While they were there, Zach found an interesting looking sofa. He called Sara Jane over and said he thought it would go in my house. Sara Jane said it would because it was kind of funky. Madison piped up and said, "Yes because Grandma is the Funk Master." So there you have it, I am officially the Funk Master! Watch for more funky stuff coming soon.

Slow, Slower, Slowest

So Susan is trying to beat me to the American Fork blogging. I can’t blame her. Obviously I am being very slow at it. Maybe it is my broken toe that is slowing me down. The doctor asked me on Friday if it had slowed me down and I said no. I didn’t say that my normal pace is so slow that if I slowed down I would be at a complete stop. Maybe I am at a complete stop. Well, I knew the blogging thing would be tricky for me because I spend all day typing on a computer and the last thing I want to do when I get home is type on the computer. So, my American Fork installments will be slow incoming and probably not worth waiting for. In fact, I may lose all interest in the entire project and just close the landfill.

Angst Definitely Belongs in the Landfill

So, Abi asked me why I was making a floor plan of the American Fork house. I told her it is because I am going to use it in my blog to talk about my childhood. It was a very important part of my childhood. Abi said she doesn't have many childhood memories. My other children don’t either as a rule. I have childhood memories—lots of them. And I have a great deal of angst that seems to be centered in my childhood.

Here are some definitions of angst:

• A feeling of dread, anxiety, anguish or apprehension often accompanied by depression.
• A kind of fear or anxiety; Angst is German for “fear.” It is usually applied to a deep and essentially philosophical anxiety about the world in general or personal freedom. (See existentialism.)

So, why do I have so much angst about my childhood (which has obviously been accompanied by depression) and anxiety about the world in general? I think this is probably a question that if it were answered could explain all of my problems in life. My children have no angst about their childhoods (with the possible exception of Amanda). They don’t even have memories—an issue for another discussion.

So, in an effort to rid myself of this angst, I plan to put into writing in my blog many childhood memories (good and bad) to see if the sheer effort of writing them down will allow them to stop plaguing me. I’m sorry you will have to be a part of this process (should you continue to read my blog that is).

And I apologize in advance to anyone (living or dead) I may offend in my memoirs. Just remember, it is a landfill and will eventually be bulldozed under.