Sep. 23: Buh-bye, blog.

I haven’t posted since March, and for good reason: I’ve got nothing to say.

Yes, I realize that’s never stopped me before, or at least not often. Once upon a time I posted several times a day, and probably 95 percent of those posts were total wastes of bandwidth. Possibly 97.

What happened?

In 2010, my dear friend Loveliest Lori had a health emergency of which I opted not to share details publicly, and given that it was all I could think (worry) about, I simply stopped posting for a while.

I don’t dare blame Lori for my blog’s demise, because—as she reminds me when I accuse her of sleeping soundly while everyone who loved her freaked the eff out—SHE WAS IN A COMA. (“Coma” is her “cancer card,” a card I myself have occasionally been accused of playing too much. But Lori’s “coma!!” responses are just fine with me. I mean, who would seriously suggest someone plays a life-threatening condition card too much?)

I laugh. Ha ha ha. (That is sarcastic ha ha ha-ing. in case you didn’t catch it.)

I know who. Someone who was, for as long as I can remember, one of the most important people in my life, until she decided I was toxic and her life was better without me and my children in it. (Can we say “narcissist”? We can!)

I couldn’t write about that situation much either, not because I didn’t have permission, but because I was heartbroken, confused, and unreasonably protective of her, STILL. Y’all would’ve grown tired of my never-ending whining and tuned out anyway.

I held the hand of a friend whose husband fought cancer for a year and, while the experience so affected me and her other friends, the story was not mine to tell. 

The reasons behind posting infrequently just evolved from situations like these. I got used to posting carefully.

Eventually I started censoring my blog posts more than I wanted to, which got me wondering why I even had a blog if I was censoring myself, which had me asking myself who I was censoring for, which made me start feeling incredibly self-centered, which is a personality trait I detest.

Blogging can be a pretty self-centered thing to do, after all. I mean, it sometimes seems very HERE’S WHAT I THINK AND AREN’T I BRILLIANT FOR SHARING THIS WISDOM AND DON’T YOU WISH YOU HAD THE COURAGE AND ISN’T MY LIFE SO AMAZING AND AREN’T I SO CLEVER BLAH BLAH BLAH. Don’t get me wrong; unprecedented understanding can result from the process of writing out thoughts. Lately, though, it feels like there’s potentially an even greater benefit (for me) to write out my thoughts without publishing them for the world to read, and I guess that’s why I feel like my blog has served its purpose and has quietly—pfffft—faded away.

I started Stuff Jen Says while pregnant with Katie 16 years ago as an easy way to share our family news with friends. It blossomed into something so much bigger, for which I am occasionally proud (my cancer story, for instance, if it’s even the slightest bit helpful to anyone facing it themselves). My blog brought me a brush with fame: meeting and “helping” author Pamela Ribon write a book. It allowed me to share things that made me guffaw. It allowed me to share things that enraged me. It helped me make friends. It might have helped me lose a few—it’s not all been good, that’s for sure. But what my blog absolutely could not do is survive my tremendous worry that I had become that person who believed every thought that entered my head was worth sharing. I really, really hate that person. I could not bear being her.

So I’m calling it. OK, I’m kinda calling it. I won’t completely give up on Stuff Jen Says, but I’m not going to feel guilty for not posting anymore. I may occasionally post haiku, or funny Jack stories, or links to Broadway musical awesomeness. And who knows? Maybe someday my blog will find a life again. But if it does, or if it doesn’t, whatever’s meant to happen will. I’m sure of that.

What I want to make clear is that I’m not writing this as a ploy for attention or a way for my vast audience (cough!) to plead with me to revive my blog. After 16 years, I can’t just let my blog die without explanation. So… there it is. I offer up my biggest thank yous to the comments, encouragement, and support y’all have given me here over the past 16 years. There have been moments that this blog has been an absolute lifeline for me, and I’ll always be grateful for that. 

Sep. 12: Not a fan of the goodbyes

I recently found out that one of my friends is moving away. Far away. Like, Alaska-far away. Actually, that’s exactly how far away: she’s moving to Alaska.

When friends move away, it makes life super-suck. I will definitely miss Jenn K, but Dina, Jenn K’s BFF, will be feelings aaaaall the feels. I know this, because my BFF moved a couple years ago. I consider myself kind of a pro at knowing what it feels like to say “smell ya later” to someone you love so much. I’m not saying I know how best to deal with it; I’m saying I’ve been there.

So, in the hopes of helping anyone else who’s been cruelly abandoned (oh! the drama!) by their best friend, I offer these pointers on handling this un-fun change in your life. Please note that this only applies to friends you’re losing because you’re no longer in the same geographical area, not the ones you’ve lost because one of you chose to dump the other; in that case, at least one of you is an asshole. You should probably work on that.

1. If you and your BFF currently communicate via text/email/phone calls, keep doing that, and try to do it every day. If you go more than a few days without communicating, it’s hard to catch up again. I’m not suggesting the friendship is irreparable if you miss a day of texting, but it’s a habit that really needs to continue if you want to stay close.
2. Text each other the stupid stuff that no one else will understand. The little things, y’know? Complain about the weather, traffic, a mutual enemy, whatever. Making each other smile connects you. It’s good.
3. Plan a visit. You go there, she comes back to you, something. Put a date on the calendar, no matter how far away it might be, because it gives you a goal that feels reachable. Tell yourself, “If I can just stop crying until I see her again, maybe my family won’t hate me for eating dinner without them every night.” BECAUSE OH YES, YOU WILL WANT TO EAT DINNER WITHOUT THEM. You will also want them to stop asking how you are (“I’m sad, just like when you asked me yesterday!”). You’ll want to sit in front of Netflix with headphones and the volume way up so you don’t have to interact with people. You will be a not-very-nice person for an indeterminate amount of time. Know this. And maybe warn your family now.
4. FaceTime! Val and I have done this with Sunshine several times, and it’s the best. OK, it’s not the best—the best would be actually hanging out in person—but it’s a really good alternative. I recommend FaceTime-ing with a group to heighten the fun factor. (Jenn K, get ready…)
5. Spend time with your mutual friends. They’ll be missing her too, and can understand your sense of loneliness better than pretty much anyone else. They’ll also get the inside jokes you shared. It’s surprising how good all that feels. It also serves to remind you you’re still a likeable person even though your BFF obviously doesn’t think so and couldn’t wait to move Alaska-far away from you. Which brings me to #6…
6. You can lay on the guilt as much as you want, but it will serve no purpose except to make her resent you. She would stay if she could. Decisions aren’t easy, and this one was a bitch. Don’t make her feel worse. Or maybe don’t go out of your way to make her feel worse ALL THE TIME. ;)
7. Write stories about you and her and the adventures you go on together—your own personal fan-fic.
8. Wait, don’t do #7. That’s just weird and a little creepy. Maybe haiku.
9. Nope, not haiku. That’s creepier.
10. Not that haiku is creepy. I loves me some haiku. Now that I think about it, haiku might be pretty awesome. Fine, give it a try.
11. You will feel lonely, sad, frustrated, and even angry, and there’s really not much you can do about it, sooo… Find something to do with that energy. It can be something that’s good for you—gardening, exercising, making a new BFF out of papier-mâché—or good for your family—cleaning, cooking, learning mixed martial arts. I do not recommend that you put extra energy into anything that requires copious amounts of alcohol or food. I gained five pounds in the week after Sunshine left because my motto became “Only Krispy Kreme understands my pain.”
12. Remind yourself that everyone says it’ll get easier with time, because it will. You won’t forget your BFF, and you won’t stop missing her, but you’ll start settling into life without her and one day it simply doesn’t hurt quite so much.
13. Have a friend like Val, who is super-fun and will drink excessively and say all the potty words with you. Because sometimes you will need to drink excessively and say all the potty words, and when that happens, well, let me give you my number because whoever you are, I’d be delighted to be your Val.

I’ll close by saying that although Sunshine and I aren’t the friends we were when we lived nine houses apart, when we’ve hung out since her move to Arizona, it’s been easy to get back into that comfortable place we used to be. While I still miss having her in my life every day, I love how we don’t set expectations for each other as long-distance friends; we just are who we are, and it’s good. I kinda ♥ her tons. She’s a keeper.

I’m grateful to have lots of dear friends in my life, actually, both near and far. It’s a mutual effort, this friends thing, but the ones that are in it for the long haul will be always do what has to be done to be present in each other’s lives. This I know for sure. And I love it.

Feb. 3: Sad goodbye

Here are two very pretty girls, who come from a large family in which everyone is undeniably beautiful and unbelievably nice. It’s true, almost sickeningly so.

And, lucky me, this family has been a part of my life for almost 30 years. There on the right is April, who has been my classmate, roommate, bridesmaid, traveling companion, and all-around best friend. On the left is her sister Camille, whom I also considered a dear friend.

Sadly, Camille passed away last weekend.

Hearts everywhere have broken at this news. Camille was a thoughtful, generous, artistic person, and our world is noticeably less bright without her. Please keep the Knudsons, Santos, Jordans, Knapps, and Hogates in your thoughts as they endure tomorrow’s memorial service and, for the long term, life without their daughter, wife, mother, sister, and aunt. Camille was a blessing to us all, and she will be missed.

Aug. 23: Daybook

Today…

Outside my window... it looks like it’s going to be a beautiful day. Blue sky as far as I can see, and no clouds. Right now I have all the windows open and am loving the smell of the fresh air. It’s covering up the stench of puppy vomit quite well.

I am thinking... that it’s a mystery why dogs move around from one spot to another to puke. Why can’t they stay in one place, so I can scrub one spot of carpet? No, they make trails and then big spots and then more trails. Me no like.

I am thankful for... good rug cleaner.

From the kitchen... I would really prefer that you not mention food right now.

I am wearing... a robe. I would like to shower and put clothes on, but the puppy gets nervous when I’m out of his sight and I’m afraid his nervousness could induce more vomiting. That is why it’s 10:30 a.m. and I’m still not dressed. (I’m blaming it on the puppy today; on most days when I’m still not showered or dressed at 10:30 it’s just me being a lazy-ass.)

I am creating... a scenario in my mind in which all my PTO duties are done, the puppy has no accidents, and my Loveliest Lori is awake and on the mend. I am creating this because I am desperate to leave the horrors of last week behind, and thinking positive is hugely important in making that happen.

I am going... to Salem today, I think. I need to see my girl. I may have to wait until tomorrow, depending on her condition and the length of the line of people waiting to get in to see her. I know it will be long; Lori is quite well-loved.

I am hoping... so many things right now. Almost every one of them has to do with Lori. Maybe a little bit about the puppy’s stomach settling, once and for all.

I am hearing... my phone beeping and ringing and buzzing, dogs snoring, the Wii and the kids playing it, and birds chirping outside.

Around the house... there are several extra-clean spots on the carpet.

A few plans for the rest of the week: football practices for Jack, lots and lots of PTO stuff and then more PTO stuff, work on Wednesday, and whatever I can do for Lori.

Here is a picture for thought I am sharing...

Kim F’n, Loveliest Lori, and me—March 2010 girls’ weekend.
Sweet memories.
We’re going to make lots more!

Want to blog your own Daybook? Here’s the info: The Simple Woman’s Daybook.

Aug. 21: Sometimes

Aug. 20: Week from hell

It’s Friday, and usually that means you get a post called I Don’t Care Enough About You to Write in Transitioning Paragraphs Friday. But not today. I have enough to share about similar topics that I can easily transition my paragraphs. This has been one hell of a week.

It started with my mom visiting a friend out of town; while she was there, a middle-of-the-night visit from a police officer told Mom’s friend that her son had just been killed in an accident. Tragic situation.

A couple members of Vic’s extended family have had some serious health issues this week. One came through okay and it looks like he’s on the mend. The other one is still a wait-and-see.

Victor will never admit that he didn’t want to speak to me for a couple days this week, but it’s true. He wasn’t thrilled about the puppy thing. He’s adjusted to it fine, but it took him a while to come around, and during that time I annoyed the hell out of him by asking over and over if he hated me. (He may not have actually hated me, but he was not very happy with me. NOT AT ALL.)

I worked two days this week, which doesn’t sound like much, but it’s more than usual (which is NO days, lately) and I was surprised at how much it exhausted me. Add that to lots of PTO work and the typical stress of everyday life at the House of Manullang, and I was overwhelmed way earlier in the week than usual.

Katie got a new phone and was beyond excited for it to arrive. When it finally did, it didn’t work. Hours on the phone with tech support and customer service and a trip to a local store finally concluded that it was a bad phone. Poor Katie was so disappointed, and I felt so bad for her. I also felt bad for me—I was the one who spent all that time trying to figure out what to do.

Sunshine had a family member die suddenly and tragically on Wednesday. It was on the news. Heart-breaking, truly.

We got the new puppy yesterday, which was a mostly good experience. But… he puked in Petsmart. He cried a lot at bedtime last night. His first vet visit today was crazy-pricey. He had a few accidents in the house. Yes, typical new puppy things. Still, stressful.

Val planned a party and a bunch of us bailed on her at the last minute last night—many with good reasons, yes—and I think we all felt terribly guilty. I know what it takes to get the house ready for guests, to choose and prepare food and beverages, to psych one’s self up to play hostess. I hate that she did all that for nothing. She won’t ever tell us that we’re sucky friends, but I bet she was thinkin’ it last night!

Loveliest Lori is in the middle of a medical emergency right now. I’ll share more when I know more—hopefully tomorrow—but things are feeling way too uncertain for all of us who care about her. I think I won’t relax until she’s out of ICU, and that may not happen for a couple days yet. Positive thoughts for one of my dearest friends, please. If prayer’s your thing, that’ll work too. Thanks.

On the way up to Heather’s house for a meeting this morning—which is just around the corner from my house—I got bit by a dog. YES. I didn’t know the dog, nor the girl walking him, but he leaped at me as we passed and totally jabbed a tooth into my thigh. Let me say this: dogs do not bite me. I am nice to dogs. I like dogs. They know it. I was stunned that this happened. I still can’t believe it. A dog bit me!

Tonight I felt the clouds moving in way too smothery-like, and I decided I needed to run to Target for a new dog food container RIGHT. THAT. SECOND. You know those things can’t wait, right? And I walked around Target for way longer than I needed to, but it was nice to look at pretty things that had nothing to do with the heartache and frustration I’d seen so much of this week. On my way out someone yelled at me in the parking lot and I was all ready to give them my biggest frowny face EVER, until I realized it was Val and her husband. Yay! Nice people! We stood and talked for a few minutes and agreed that everyone we encounter is assholes but us. Totally fair, right? Also, the fact that Val talked to me without telling me I was a sucky friend was very, very nice of her. She’s not an asshole. Not even a little one.

Unfortunately, our short, fun chat didn’t lift me completely out of my grumpiness. As I began to back out of my parking space, I saw a couple girls run past my car and I actually thought, “If I hit one of them I’m going to be so mad.” People who want to blame the pedestrian for being hit really should not be driving cars. I needed to get off the road, and fast. I went home immediately.

It was a rotten week. So rotten. I’m exhausted, I’m zapped, I’m nursing a friggin’ dog bite. It’s time to check out on this week, I do believe. Unfortunately, I can’t do that yet. I’ve got a visit to Loveliest Lori tomorrow and who knows what the rest of the weekend holds. I’d really like to hang with my puppy and forget about the rest of life for a while. Please, can I?

I hope wherever you are, you can do something as comforting and relaxing as that, at least for a bit.

xoxo

Apr. 19: Sad face.

Last night I wrote a big bummer of a post. I know I shouldn’t apologize for it, but I’m going to anyway because I didn’t mean to bum anyone else out; I just needed to get some stuff off my chest. All day today, though, I’ve been receiving concerned messages from family and friends, and while I so so sooo appreciate and treasure them, I hope you didn’t think I was asking for them by writing what I did.

Ever since I started keeping a journal in high school, I’ve been able to sort through thoughts and express myself better by writing things out. The words flow from my fingers, the manic editing polishes it up, and if the planets all align, I come out with something that’s helped me make some sense of my world. It’s usually a good thing, though not always painless.

Anyway, I didn’t mean to freak anyone out. I hate when people post stuff on Facebook that’s all “poor me!” because it’s so obvious (to me, anyway) that they’re just looking for attention. That was not at all my intention, to be one of those narcissistic weirdos. But I also feel like I should explain what triggered my bummer of a post. I couldn’t write about it last night. I tried, but it was incoherent and rambling and full of improper grammar. It was not my best work. But I think I’m ready now. Here’s how that post came to be…

A while ago, when I asked for pole-dancing pictures from y’all—which I’m still collecting, so keep sending them in!—I linked to a blog in which a woman’s husband had received a “Fuck Cancer!” poster with 240 pictures of Internet friends giving cancer the finger. Since then, I’ve read through her past couple years of posts with great interest, especially those in which she discusses her husband’s cancer fight. His diagnosis was Diffuse Large B-Cell Lymphoma. That’s what I have. Last year he was said to be in remission, and then the lymphoma came back. He tried aggressive chemotherapy and was considering a number of options as of two weeks ago. The last thing I read on her blog was that he was home.

As I browsed through Twitters last night, I happened upon one that felt like a punch in the gut:

califmom: He’s gone. (2:56am April 18)

And that’s when I kinda lost it.

They were a loving couple with young children.

They were determined to kick cancer’s ass, together.

They had no reason to believe it couldn’t be done.

They had tremendous support from their family and friends.

They allowed their Internet audience to share in the cancer-fighting experience.

And then he died. They fought and fought, and he died anyway. There’s just no way around how completely unfair that is, how wrong that is, that this woman will now have to figure out how to live without her best friend at her side, and that their kids will have to go through all the huge milestones in their lives without their dad to celebrate with them.

I’ve cried a whole bunch in the past 24 hours for them, but I gotta be honest and say that a lot of those tears were for me and my family, too. I know that’s incredibly selfish, but it’s true. It’s just that this news scares the shit out of me. I’ve tried to stay upbeat, knowing that positive thinking is powerful and healing, but the fact is that it doesn’t necessarily make one bit of difference. I can fight-fight-fight!, diligently follow every one of the oncologist’s rules, and eat all the Pop Rocks I can get my hands on, but it doesn’t mean I’m coming out of this alive.

…and you thought my post last night was a bummer.

Nov. 18: R.I.P. Cleo

Darlene and Wellington’s cat died on Sunday. He was one of the sweetest kitties we’ve ever known and all of us are feeling very, very sad that he’s gone.



Cleo and his brother Mu-shu joined the family when they were about eight weeks old. They looked a lot alike—Mu-shu had more white on his paws—but their personalities could not have been more different. Cleo was laid back and affectionate, while Mu-shu, though friendly, was territorial and completely freaked out by Scout’s constant barking.

One of my favorite stories about the kittens is when Darlene noticed one of them was limping. She called the vet and they told her to bring him in. Of course, like a sick kid, during the exam the kitten was just fine. Darlene was embarrassed, figured he had suddenly gotten better, and left the vet. On the way home she realized she’d taken in the wrong kitten, so switched cats and called the vet back to say “he started limping again.” :)

During their first year Mu-shu would disappear for weeks at a time, and whenever he would come back, Darlene said Cleo was always so happy. I think even though Mu-shu liked Cleo, he probably wanted his own territory and went somewhere he could have it. That’s what I chose to believe, anyway, when Darlene told us a year had passed since Mu-shu had last been around the house.

Cleo was not a roamer; he was content to stick near the house, which seemed unusual for an outdoor cat. When Darlene and Wellington moved from the Seattle area down here to Portland, we weren’t sure how Cleo would adjust to new surroundings. But he did just fine. He came when we called him, just like a dog. When he heard Katie’s voice he’d come running, even if she wasn’t calling him. In fact, he had a hard time refusing her, and she was frequently helpful when it was time to go to the vet or kennel.

I love this picture of him and Presley from a couple summers ago. She was another one of Cleo’s favorite kids.



He was such a good boy, and we miss him very much.

Aug. 4: A beautiful tribute

April shared some very sad news with me the other day. A longtime friend of her family's died while hiking in the Columbia Gorge last weekend. Here's the local news report.

I met Melissa on several occasions over the summer of 1991 at the events surrounding Jim and April's wedding. The last time I saw her was at yet another Knudson family wedding, when Victor and I sat with her and Andrus at the reception dinner. I obviously did not know Melissa well, but will always remember her as a very kind person with a friendly smile, and an affectionate mom to their two boys. This is a tragic loss for all who knew her. My heart goes out to her family and friends.

Today The Columbian published a tribute to Melissa, written by her parents.

MELISSA J. L. PAHN

Melissa made her entrance into this world in 1954 in New Orleans. Her family was living there while her father was attending University. She moved with her parents to E-Town, PA. She had an older sister, Jenanne, and a brother, Kevin. She and her family lived on the hospital grounds while her dad was one of the physicians caring for 200 hundred children. She was adored by the medical staff. Everyone wanted to talk to her and hold her. In 1957, the family headed west and returned to Lodi, CA to the home of where her paternal family members were raised. At an early age she appreciated the family pets. By the time she was school age, she wanted to be punctual, get her work done and enjoyed her friends. She was social and began making lifetime friends. Melissa graduated from the Lodi Academy and had decided to work in a field where she could make a difference in the world. Her field of interest was occupational therapy. She graduated from Loma Linda University with a degree in her chosen field. Melissa wanted to get her Master's Degree in Public Health. A sad night came when we helped her load a China Airlines Plane headed west in the darkness of the night. Her studies in the Republic of China were scheduled for a year. About three months in her studies, she was grocery shopping when blaring over the store the music “Stuck in Lodi” struck a responsive chord in her heart and suddenly she became homesick. She called us and we responded by traveling to Taiwan for a visit. She was an excellent guide because she could communicate in Mandarin Chinese. She got her Master's Degree in Public Health. She worked near home and got better acquainted to her family: her older sister, Jenanne, and her brother, Kevin and his wife, Heidi; and her younger sister, Shawna, who is married to Johnny Unser of the Unser racing clan. In 1984, which Melissa and her mom and dad traveled to China for several weeks. Unknown to us her serious friend, Andrus Pahn, gave her a letter to open on the Great Wall of China. After she read it her personality changed. We didn’t know why but when we arrived in San Francisco she looked up to the balcony and spotted Andrus. They gave each other a high sign and Melissa turned to us and told us about “The Letter.” Andrus had proposed, via the letter, on the Great Wall of China. Life was never the same. She and Andrus were married in Boring, OR. Because of their interest in children a group of them sang at their wedding. Melissa and Andrus blessed our family Trevor, now 19 and the eldest grandson. Then came a brother Christopher. They now have cousins. Kevin and Heidi have Chase and Jacqueline. Johnny and Shawna have Loni Unser. Jenanne has three stepchildren. She and Robert Rodriguez live in Ohio. Melissa and Jenanne are confidants. As I reflect on our favorite middleist daughter, she was a people person. She was gracious and willing to help at the appropriate time and way. As a parent I pray that I can live more like out middleist Melissa. Melissa lived in the present. Her faith remained strong. She finished her work early and her Maker called and said: “Missy, you need a rest.” In summary, Melissa was a beautiful daughter, a faithful wife, and mother. She was perseverant and an ambassador for her creator. She was like the glue that held our family together. If you knew Melissa you would have loved her. We will miss you Melissa, but you will be in our hearts and we’ll be looking for you in the hereafter. A Celebration of Melissa's Life will be held on Saturday, August 4, 2007, at 4:00pm, at Pleasant Valley Seventh Day Adventist Church, 11125 SE 172nd Ave., Happy Valley, OR 97086. Memorials in Melissa's honor may be made to Paralyzed Veteran's of America, or to the Pleasant Valley Adventist Church Youth. To send condolences or to sign the online guestbook, please visit www.brownsfh.com. Brown's Funeral Home and Cremation Services in Camas has been entrusted with arrangements.
Published in the Columbian on 08/04/2007

It's a good reminder for us all to live our lives doing what we love.

—Jen

June 7: Another anniversary

It’s been two years now. It was the worst day of my life thus far, and I hate the changes that have come about since Dad’s been gone. I always have extra pictures now when we distribute the kids’ school pictures or copies of studio portraits. Our family buys far fewer Father’s Day cards. There’s one less thing to stress over when it comes to gee-what-do-I-get-the-dads-for-Christmas—but what I wouldn’t give to still have that stress.

I don’t know how else to explain it except to say I feel broken. It’s like the place in my heart that was reserved just for Dad burst when he died. But that’s life now—and no, it’s not the same without him, and I doubt we will ever completely get used to him being gone. I still think “I need to call Dad...” way too often. He’s missed out on so many things, so many birthday parties and holiday dinners and school functions and those infamous advice-offering phone conversations he loved. Bugging me about my remodeling projects. The annual selection of his new car. He's missed a James Bond movie, and watching “Pirates” with Jack. He’s missed so many Yankees games.

He has missed out. But most of all, we have missed him.

Kathy’s and my best friends have both lost their fathers since we lost ours. Unfortunately, we have learned very little about how a daughter is supposed to survive this painful phase; in fact, two years later we still often feel like the news is brand new. I found this quote recently that gives us a tiny bit of simple hope that we are not suffering in vain (though we're still struggling to find a lesson in our grief).

“If you learn from your suffering,
and really come to understand the lessons you were taught,
you might be able to help someone else
who is now in the phase you may have just completed.
Maybe that’s what it’s all about after all.”
--Source Unknown

One of the other things Kathy and I discovered in the past two years is that everyone grieves in very different ways and often on very different timelines. More than anything, we now know that there’s no such thing as a “normal” grief process. Really, whatever we feel is “normal.” And so I close with this piece from Bereavement Magazine (that must be a joyful subscription, hm?), in the hope that it might possibly be some comfort to Lori and April over the next few anniversaries that pass for them.

When Does Grief End?
Grief hits us like a ton of bricks,
Flattens us like a steamroller,
Hurls us into the depths of despair.
We know in a flash when grief hits,
But when does it end?
Like the month of March,
Grief rushes in like a lion,
And tiptoes out like a lamb.
Sometimes, we don’t know when grief leaves,
Because we don’t let go of the lion’s tail.
Why do we hold on so long?
Grief offers us safety,
Protection from the world.
We don’t want to let go
Because we secretly fear
That we’ll forget our loved ones,
And we don’t want to forget—ever.
We don’t want to let go
Because we fear the future
And having to face life without our loved ones.
We don’t want to let go
Because we make the mistake
Of measuring our grief with the depth of our love—
When neither has anything to do with the other.
How do we know when grief has run its course?
How do we know when we’ve grieved enough?
Cried enough?
“Died” enough?
How do we know when it’s time to let go of the tail?
We know when we feel joy again, in something or someone.
Joy in living. Joy in life.
We know when we wake up in the morning
And our first thought is on something other than our loss.
We know when we look ahead with a smile
And back with fond memories,
And when we no longer dread the nights.
We know when our life starts filling up with new interests and people,
And we start reaching for the stars.
Grief ends when we let go of the tail.
--Margaret Brownley, Bereavement Magazine, Jan/Feb 2002

Kathy, I'm thinking of you a whole bunch today. And I speak for us both when I say we're thinking of you a whole bunch today, too, Lori and April.

With love,

Jen

May 31: Ralph Knudson obituary

From the Gresham Outlook:

Ralph Forrest Knudson
Feb. 14, 1938-May 26, 2007

Damascus resident Ralph Forrest Knudson, 69, died Saturday, May 26, in Issaquah, Wash.

A celebration of life will be held at 4 p.m. Saturday, June 2, at Pleasant Valley Seventh-day Adventist Church, 11125 S.E. 172nd Ave., Happy Valley.

Committal services with honors will be held at 2 p.m. Monday, June 4, at Willamette National Cemetery. Those who wish may view from noon to 7 p.m. Friday, June 1, at Gresham Memorial Chapel, 257 S.E. Roberts Ave.

Ralph was born Feb. 14, 1938, in West Hollywood, Calif., to Joseph and Lillian Caldwell Knudson. The family later moved to Eagle Rock, Calif., then to Glendale, Calif., where he graduated from Hoover High School.

Ralph enlisted in the Navy on Aug. 10, 1955. While in the Navy, Ralph married Charlotte Summers on Feb. 18, 1956, in Glendale. Ralph was honorably discharged Aug. 9, 1961.

After his discharge, Ralph graduated from Glendale College with an Associates Degree in business. While in college, Ralph was the Men’s Club president and student body president.

Following his graduation, Ralph worked for Ingledue Travel Publications in Hollywood as general manager.

Charlotte preceded Ralph in death April 13, 1964. Ralph married Patricia Benjamin in March 1965 in Glendale.

Ralph remained with Ingledue Travel Publications until 1970, when he created his own business, Official Directory of Data Processing, in Hollywood. In 1978, they moved to Damascus. In 1988, Ralph worked for Well Source Corp. in Clackamas, beginning as general manager and was working as vice president of sales.

Ralph loved to travel around the world, including China, the Mediterranean and on family trips to Scandinavia and Hawaii. Ralph was very active in the church, was a member of the Republican Party and the founder of his local neighborhood home owners association.

Ralph is survived by his wife of Damascus; daughters, Julia Hogate of Milton Freewater, April Jordan of Issaquah, Wash., Camille Santo of Everett, Wash., Heather Knapp of Gladstone; sons, Douglas Knudson of Las Vegas, Michael Knudson of Tillamook; and eight grandchildren.

Memorial contributions can be made to Pleasant Valley Seventh-day Adventist Church Building Fund or the Worthy Student Fund, c/o the church.

Gresham Memorial Chapel is handling arrangements.

And from the Oregonian:

Ralph Forrest Knudson

A service will be at 4 p.m. Saturday, June 2, 2007, in Pleasant Valley Seventh-day Adventist Church in Boring for Ralph Forrest Knudson, who died May 26 at age 69.

Mr. Knudson was born Feb. 14, 1938, in West Hollywood, Calif. He served in the Navy and graduated from Glendale College. He published the Official Directory for Data Processing in California and transferred it to Boring in 1978. Later, he was a sales vice president of Well Source, where he worked for the past 19 years. He was a member of the church. In 1956, he married Charlotte Summers; she died in 1964. He married Patricia Benjamin in 1965.

Survivors include his wife; daughters, Julia Hogate, April Jordan, Camille Santo and Heather Knapp; sons, Douglas and Michael; and eight grandchildren.

Remembrances to the building fund of the church. Arrangements by Gresham Memorial.

May 29: Sad goodbye

Life was a lot more fun before I answered my phone today. Before I answered my phone today, the most troublesome thing I had to deal with was Vic’s bad haircut.

April called this afternoon to tell me that her dad, Ralph (Forrest) Knudson, died suddenly on Friday night.

There aren’t very many people I’ve known longer than April, nor as well. We became friends our junior year in high school. We were college roommates for a while, threw each other bridal showers, played bridesmaids in each others’ weddings, and met each others’ babies when they were fresh and new. We even have similar birth stories—we easily draw dirty stares from women when we say we’ve both got two children but neither of us has ever been in labor (heh heh heh).

Part of what helped us become close friends was getting to know each other’s families. April’s one of six kids, so get-togethers at her house were major affairs. I remember several Saturday night parties where chaos reigned—kids running up and down the stairs, arguing over what was on the TV, teasing the dog, and teasing each other—but Pat and Ralph didn’t seem to mind a bit, and kept themselves busy by alternately getting to know us and making sure there was enough food for everyone. Ralph was especially eager to please, constantly distributing plates of snacks and checking our soda cups to see if we needed refills. We’d laugh at his earnest ways, but also thought it was kinda cool how involved a dad could be with his teenagers. I think most of us had the kind of dad that spoke to his kids’ friends only if he had to.

If I answered the phone when April’s parents called our dorm room, they would chat with me a bit before asking for her. I saw them often when we’d go home together on the weekends. And by the time Jim and April’s wedding and all its associated events came in August 1991, I considered myself one of Pat and Ralph’s kids, as they very much made me feel like part of their family.

And then something unexpected happened. They became my friends. My roommate and I threw parties, and Pat and Ralph would show up. Victor and I threw parties, and Pat and Ralph would show up. A lot of times April wasn’t even in town, but it didn’t matter because we no longer needed her to connect us. It was easy to see that these were loving, thoughtful people who truly cared about others. And a lot of times when you talk about couples like that, it’s assumed that it’s mostly the wife who sort of “directs” their efforts. Not so with Pat and Ralph. He was as much a part of their relationships with others as she was.

In recent years, Ralph would often corner my dad at our parties and ask for advice on business issues—Dad acted like he was annoyed by it, but I know he appreciated being considered an expert. And so at Dad’s memorial service two years ago, Ralph went up front and shared very kind words for the kind of man he perceived my dad to be. I remember afterward that I thanked him for speaking, but I hope he knew just how special that was for me and my sister to hear.

I’m not the only one with the Knudsons in my background. Pat and Vic’s mom went to college together and later served on some of the same school committees because their kids were close in age. Victor’s Little League coach? Ralph. Smallish world, I know.

To April, Julia, Doug, Camille, Michael, Heather, and your families, I’m so sorry. Losing your father, especially in such an unexpected way, is truly tragic. Now that I’m two years past losing my own dad, I should probably have some wise words for you. Unfortunately, they don’t exist. It just plain sucks. There is still a huge void in my life; too often I still think, “Oh, I need to tell Dad…” Time does ease the physical pain of the loss, but the hole in your heart… well, I won't lie to you: it’s probably there to stay.

It sounds trite, but it’s true: the world lost a very special person last Friday night. Ralph Knudson was incredibly kind, goofy, concerned, and thoughtful. He was someone unique, for many reasons, and will be missed tremendously. He’s been part of my life for such a long time; it’s hard to imagine the changes his absence will bring. I wish I didn’t have to find out.

--Jen

June 7: Remembering Dad

Today is the first anniversary of my dad's death. You're probably thinking you can't believe it was just a year ago, but be assured that the time has done anything but fly for me and Kathy. Even though we've had some really wonderful things happen in the past year, so much of it is overshadowed by the sadness of being unable to share them with Dad. He loved hearing about our projects around the house, traveling, his grandchildren's accomplishments, and so many other things about our busy-ness. There is still such a void without him here.

I've been trying to decide the best way to comemmorate today. I thought about planting a tree in honor of Dad, but for a number of reasons it just doesn't seem like the right thing (besides the fact that he'd forever be pointing down--or up???--at me complaining that I don't weed around it often enough). There hasn't been anything that's hit me as The Perfect Thing. Then this morning I had an epiphany: I'll spend the day, not as Dad would WANT me to, but as HE would've done. So here's what I'll do:

1. Start the day with coffee at Shari's
   
2. Love the New York Yankees, hate all other baseball teams, and fall asleep while watching them play
   
3. Be cruel to service people for no good reason
   
4. Answer the phone, "Number 72"
   
5. Have a really stupid accident that causes me to break at least one bone in my body (OK, I admit it ... I'd be doing this anyway)
   
6. Accuse chestnuts of being lazy (no, wait... that's what I would do if Dr. Evil were my father)
   
7. Be a Republican (don't worry, I'm not insane, and I'm also not voting, so one day on the dark side won't kill my Democratic Agenda)
   
8. Drive down I-5 with a Big Mac in each hand
   
9. Throw a few expressions into conversation, like "In a pig's eye..." and "Y'know, there's something to that..."
   
10. Tell my family that I love them

Kathy and I paraphrased a few lines from "For Good" (from the Broadway musical "Wicked") for a tribute to Dad that was published in today's Oregonian. If you didn't see it, here's what it looked like.

And if you don't mind indulging a couple of adoring daughters, here are some of our favorite pictures of our dad.

Thanksgiving weekend 1981

Dad teaching Kathy how to use her camera (Jen is unimpressed), 1971

Las Vegas 1998: Jen rubbing Dad's belly for good luck

Daddy meeting Kathy, 19xx (you're welcome, Kath!)

Grandpa meeting Sean, 1987

Yikes! Easter 1973

Katie cuddling with Grandpa Curt, 2003

The Butterfly Kisses moment, 1997

Dad at Crater Lake, 1960ish

Though a year having gone by has dulled the shock of our loss, we still miss him every day. I hate that he's missed out on big events like Stephen's high school graduation. I know he would've loved to hear the details about my 20th high school reunion. He would've wanted to see pictures of Katrina effects from Kathy's trip to the southern U.S. He would have been so proud to have Katie sit in his lap and read her storybooks to him. It's so unfair that he's not here to enjoy these things.

Dad was a funny guy, and had a great appreciation for things that gave him belly laughs. We'll never forget that part of who he was, and that's why we have chosen to remember him today in a way he would've enjoyed: hearing his daughters make fun of him. In no way do we mean to be irreverent; quite honestly, when he died I think a part of me broke inside. But it was humor that always connected the three of us together. And nowadays it's humor that gets me and Kath out of crybaby mode into laughing so hard stuff flies out our noses. (Feel free not to enjoy that image too much.)

Jen

Aug. 16: Not all of us can come and go by BUBBLE

Welcome back.

It's been more than two months since I lost my dad. My heart still feels so heavy. For my sanity, I've tried to make myself grasp that he's no longer a phone call away, or across town waiting for a visit from Katie and Jack. There are so many things I want to tell him about, stuff he's missing out on. House stuff he could advise me on, like he was always ready to do. I guess I never realized how much he still took care of me.

I feel incredibly selfish to say that Dad was too young or that he wasn't sick enough to die. I know he was tired of dealing with all the side effects of his medications, tired of medical appointments and hospital stays. He hated feeling like he wasn't in control of, well, everything... but especially his health. But I really don't think he was ready to go. When I talked to him the Sunday before he died, he was wanting to come over to see Katie and Jack in a few days. He sounded so energetic, so happy, so full of life. And I wasn't done with him yet.

Kathy and I had small medallion-like pendants made with Dad's thumbprint embossed on them. We both have said that when we wear them we can't stop running our fingers over the texture of the print, just to feel--literally--a part of him. I put another pendant on my chain that holds some of Dad's ashes. The urn (a silver heart) and thumbprint make a very soft "clink" together, so even if I'm not touching them I have a quiet little reminder that they're around my neck. It's eerie to think they made the print just before they cremated him, so we decided to believe that they got his fingerprints from his stint in the CIA or his years as double-oh... um... eight. If anyone suggests that it's more probable they came from his police record, you can expect a good shin kick.

I'm doing my best to pick up the pieces and get to what is the new normal of life, but it seems too soon to do the proverbial "moving on," as though I'm cheating Dad out of time that he deserves. People say that burying our parents is part of life, and I know that's true, but the hurt of losing my dad is so "mine" (and Kathy's, of course) that it's hard to believe it happens all the time, and to so many people. Of course, knowing that it happens all the time is not at all comforting either. Something that is comforting is to talk to others who have been through this before; many have good suggestions for ways to remember my dad, ways to commemorate the anniversaries of his life. I appreciate that very much, and I thank you for being willing to share that with me.

As un-fun as it is to feel such sadness, I'm also frustrated at my lack of concentration. It's been difficult to get back to work, and even if I have the energy or desire, programming a database feels next to impossible. Usually when I haven't been doing a lot of complex work I'll do crossword puzzles or play Scrabble against the computer, just to keep my brain sharp. But I can't finish a puzzle anymore, even those easy ones in the Oregonian. I'm just not me. I know grief can change a person, but I hope it doesn't make me stupid.

I've made some efforts to let myself enjoy life a little, no matter how guilty it sometimes makes me feel. I had a trip to California planned since last April, and forced myself to go (admittedly, it did not take much convincing).

Girls' Weekend

April, Debi, and I spent four days in Los Angeles in July. It had been three years since our trip to San Francisco, so this getaway was long overdue, but well worth waiting for. The highlights:

• Seeing the touring production of the Broadway musical Wicked: The Untold Story of the Witches of Oz, or as April and I called it, "The Wizard of Oz 1½." It was fabulous. The music was incredible, the story was fascinating, and the choreography was weird. We were most thankful for the problems with Glinda's bubble vehicle that stopped the show and allowed us to get to our seats, missing only the first few minutes. Hollywood Blvd. traffic totally sucks.
• Our sexy rental car, for once not a seafoam green Grannymobile
• Shopping at Fashion Island, Santa Monica, Venice beach
• Lunch at The Ivy in Santa Monica, a great place for spotting celebrities
• What has become a tradition: eating cheesecake in our jammies while making calls home
• A day at Disneyland, California Adventures, and Downtown Disney
• When it comes to Disney souvenir shopping for our kids, April's as big a sucker as I am

Un-highlights:

• The hours we spent looking for a parking space in Venice
• Dinner at Ralph's (yes... the grocery store)
• Our sexy rental car's teeny tiny trunk
• Not spotting any celebrities during lunch at The Ivy
• Flying out of LAX. Between the 3-card Monty gal with the important task of relieving escalator traffic (oh, thank god for her!) and waiting 15 minutes in a line just to say "Yes, my luggage is unlocked," I have realized that no sane person would ever fly through that airport by choice.

Other things

My nephew visited for a couple weeks. I wasn't sure how I'd keep a 17-year-old entertained, but I don't think he had too terrible a time. I showed him some of the sights of the city, and he also spent some time with Mom in Walla Walla.

We celebrated Victor's birthday over five days in Sunriver. It was hot indoors but mostly comfortable outside, making all of our bike-riding, swimming, and walking quite pleasant. I love Sunriver, but it still always brings back the so-so memories of my high school senior class trip. A bunch of girls (not me, and I regret this greatly) froze the guys' underwear, and the guys got back at ALL of the girls (me included, and I regret this greatly) by filling our suitcases with each other's clothes, rocks, and deer droppings. For the next week at school we were trading shoes and unders until everyone got their own stuff back. Stoopid boys.

Two of my good friends are pregnant. One is Deanna (not my cousin!), who just found out she's having a girl. Just for Dave, I have added these pages to manullang.com: Application to Date My Daughter, and Daddy's Rules for Dating. Enjoy.

Our Explorer lease was up in July. After many months of research and Excel analysis, Vic made a decision on a new vehicle: a Mazda MPV. Yes, this is a minivan. Yes, I also cannot believe it. Yes, I still insist on driving my Passat. And yes, the practicality of a minivan is almost worth having one parked in our driveway.

Chris, Sonya, Julianne, and Jacob are in the U.S. right now. Katie and Jack have been spending quite a bit of time at Grandpa & Grandma's playing with their big cousins, whom they completely adore. Vic's uncle and his family just arrived in town too, so there have been lots of family gatherings, and the kids just love it. (We big kids do too.)

I've finally been to a rheumatologist for my chronic pain. Turns out what I have doesn't really have a name. I suggested to Vic that maybe they could name it after me, but he said that's not usually a good thing. Anyway, the closest thing to describe what I have is lupus, but I don't have enough of the symptoms for an official diagnosis. I'm on several new medications and so far they just make me feel like I'm gonna puke, which sucks, though it does take my mind off pain in the rest of my body.

Big event in the Manullang house on Sunday: Katie lost her first tooth! The Tooth Fairy brought her a book of princess paper dolls. It's really strange to see her without that gap and makes her look like such a big girl. I took pictures, of course, and I'll try to remember to post one here on my next update

Things that have made me laugh

• Kathy unknowingly drove around for two days with "I am an X-Man" written in the dust on the back of her minivan, courtesy of Stephen. But this story trumps it: I came up behind a Fedex van and someone had written in the dirt on the back door, "Driver is wearing no panties."
• The best-of-craigslist.
• The quiz at AllLookSame. The quiz ain't so funny, but my husband's low score sure is!

It's taken me nearly two weeks to finish up this blog entry, and it's time to just call it good and publish. There are some changes to the Shop with Jen and Fun Stuff pages, but otherwise there's nothing new on manullang.com.

--Jen

June 16: Farewell, Dad

I got a very early morning phone call on June 7 with the news that my father, Curt Saltmarsh, had passed away. He had awakened around 3 a.m. having trouble breathing, and Dotti called 911. Apparently he had a blood clot in his lung and died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital.

Ron and Kathy flew to Portland immediately. My mom drove down from Walla Walla to help out with Katie and Jack. Arrangements were made with other friends and family members for their arrivals, and we began preparing a memorial service.

Kathy went to view Dad's body on Wednesday. I couldn't go. The thought of seeing him like that, touching him and feeling how cold he would be, was unbearable. I last saw him fairly recently, but Kathy hadn't seen him since last summer so it was important to her to get one last glimpse. Afterward she was glad she'd gone but said it was very difficult.

We began to scour our photo albums and scan pictures to put in a slide show for the memorial service. We chose three songs and organized the pictures around them. The show came out to about 10 minutes long, I think, and I've posted it to the web site so you can download and view it. It should run automatically. Be sure you have speakers turned on.

Assembling the slide show was cathartic, I suppose, but also very, very sad. It was hard to cut down a person's life into such a short amount of time. Kathy and I each wrote a eulogy to be read at the service, and they became complements of the slide show, in a way. Anyone who didn't know Dad well before the memorial service would certainly know him after!

The memorial service went as well as it could have. Mark Winkelman (Dotti's son-in-law) read our eulogies. Wellington sang "The Lord's Prayer" and it was absolutely beautiful. There was a time for people to share memories of Dad, which was very special for us to hear. We closed with the slide show. There was a reception afterward, where Dotti served a bunch of my dad's favorite cookies. I couldn't help but think how much he would've enjoyed being there.

It's really unbelievable that he's gone. Just when I think I'm okay I'll remember something and burst into tears. Poor Katie and Jack can't figure out what's wrong with me; although they understand that Grandpa Curt is gone, they obviously can't comprehend the permanence of death. They just know that Mommy and Appie and everyone else who was at our house this past week couldn't stop crying. And still can't.

If you never met my dad, please take a moment to get to know him by reading our eulogies and watching the slide show. Kathy and I have both said that we suddenly feel this great desire to share our dad, so indulge a couple of proud daughters, won't you? We'd love you to share any special memories of Curt Saltmarsh, so please leave them in the comments area below. Thanks.

--Jen

Jan. 2: Happy New Year!

One of my new year's resolutions is to update the site again before December 31, 2005. Before you get too excited (you know you are) remember a few things: I rarely keep resolutions, all the things that kept me from updating more often last year are still very much a part of my life, and I rarely keep resolutions.

We had a great Christmas this year. Dad & Dotti celebrated with us on the 22nd. My grandma and mom came down for a few days (Len was on a mission somewhere building something). Darlene & Wellington joined us all as we borrowed the Voss family tradition of having Chinese take-out for Christmas Eve dinner. They came again the next day for a delicious traditional Christmas feast. We spread gift-opening over the entire day, and that turned out to be a very good thing for the kids; they opened gifts a few at a time and enjoyed each one for a while before opening more.

Besides that, there's not much to say that wasn't in our Christmas letter this year. For those of you who might not have read it, here ya go (and if you don't want to read it, scroll beyond it and you'll find more words):

---

Seasons Greetings!

Yep, it’s another one of those impersonal annual letters for our family and friends. Jen writes this one because no one else would or could.

I guess 2004 could best be described as a year of home remodeling and me recuperating. Not that other stuff didn't happen too; those are simply the things that stand out most. In the spring we replaced all of our carpet and vinyl downstairs with wood flooring. Sounds good, hm? Well, it looks good too, but I found out just how slick these new floors are when I slipped in water and cracked my head open. The good news is that for once I didn’t break either of my feet (that happened later in the year). After a couple weeks of rest I got back to work around the house. I repainted the entire downstairs. With Daryl’s help we did a little remodeling—replaced the vanity in our half-bath with a pedestal sink, installed new light fixtures, put up crown moulding in the front room, and made lots of little improvements everywhere. It was fun and I can hardly wait to start on the upstairs, after I get a helmet.

In July I was down again. What I thought was probably a kidney infection was actually E.coli poisoning. By the time I was diagnosed I was in unbelievable pain and pretty much bed-ridden, and the timing could not have been worse: Vic and Kathy’s 40th birthday bash was two days away. I am forever grateful to my mom and auntie Donna for dropping everything and driving to Portland to prepare for and host the party in my place. Everyone says it was a great evening. It sure sounded fun from upstairs.

Summer was busy busy busy, between trips to Walla Walla and the Oregon coast, house guests, swimming lessons, and lots of Manullang family activities. Sonya and her family came "home" from Paris for several months. Daryl, Sally, and Presley were also in the Portland area for quite some time. Katie and Jack loved having their cousins around, and with Grandma & Grandpa just a couple miles away they got to play together almost every day. Vic and I loved getting to know Presley a little better—she's gorgeous, and such a sweetheart!

And speaking of Darlene and Wellington, they invited us to join them on a trip to Florida in September. We had to reschedule because of the hurricanes, and still caught the end of Ivan on our third day there. Daryl, Sally, and Presley drove from St. Petersburg and joined us in Orlando. We did the Disney World thing, of course, and it was an absolute blast! Quick review: Animal Kingdom, more fun than we expected. Disney-MGM Studios, a lot like California Adventures—so-so. Epcot, totally overrated—too much like that cheesefest "Mini-Europe" in Brussels. Magic Kingdom, magical! Philharmagic, the new 4-D movie, is a must-see! Our favorite moment of the trip was when Jack suddenly took off running and tackled Mickey Mouse trying to give him a hug.

Jack celebrated his third birthday in November. He's turning out to be very much like a younger version of his cousin Jacob—if you’ve heard the stories, then you know what that means. Jack spends his days looking at books, tormenting Scout, cuddling like an angel, breaking only the most expensive of his toys, running cars and trains up and down the hall, and being the stereotypical annoying baby brother. We'd say, "He's such a boy," but then we remember how much he likes to wear Katie's nightgowns and dress up her Barbie. We're okay with it, though. We'll love him no matter what… we'll love him no matter what… we'll love him no matter what...

Katie may look just like her dad, but she's showing clear signs of becoming a nerd girl like her mom. She fights for computer time—though not often, thanks to our 3-PC network—and can surf the 'net as well as Grandpa Curt (ha!). She's loving her second year of preschool, especially because her best friend Jonathan is in her class. Her fifth birthday is coming in February and she's already decided on the party theme, the cake design, who will be invited, and what she's going to wear.

Nowadays Scout's primary interest is eating people food whenever and however she can. Thanks to Jackson's absent-mindedness, she's the roliest-poliest beagle ever and can no longer jump on the bed.

Work-wise, all is mostly the same as last year. Victor’s still doin' that radiology thang at AMC, and I’m still contract programming, consulting, and training. I love the flexibility of my schedule, and the programming work keeps my mom-brain from going too mushy.

Our web site is hopelessly out of date. I didn't keep up very well this past year, but I plan to do better in 2005. Either way, you can usually find semi-recent pictures and news there. Please stop by!

I also invite you to visit www.oliviaswish.com. Olivia Medici is the daughter of my friend Annalee, and she was recently diagnosed with Sanfilippo Syndrome, a mucopolysaccharide disorder. They have just begun treatment at Duke University. If you have a prayer list, please add Olivia to it. If you'd like to help in other ways, you'll find information on her web site. Anything you can do would be greatly appreciated.

We extend our best wishes to you and your loved ones for a happy holiday season and a joyous new year!

Victor, Jennifer, Katie, and Jackson Manullang
and an "aroooooooooooo!" from little Miss Scout

---

We recently lost some very special friends, both the four-legged variety. Bailey, Daryl & Sally's beagle, died last month. I know a lot of you met her and remember what a sweetheart she was; in fact, we got Scout because we adored Bailey so much. When they lived in Portland we would occasionally keep her while D&S went out of town, and even though we loved having her visit us, I'll never forget how sad she always was right after they left, just sitting at the window and staring out. I think it was mostly a plea to take her away from Scout, who was quite the pester-er then. She is missed very much. Our other friend who crossed the Rainbow Bridge is Nakita, Scott & Jenny's Siberian Husky. She had tumors in her brain, foot, and backside and it was time to say good-bye. For most of our friends (and us), our dogs were our children long before we had human ones; losing them really is like losing a child, and it makes me sad that people aren't allowed to grieve as if they had. Daryl, Sally, Presley, Scott, Jenny, River, and Summer: we're so sorry, and so sad. We miss your girls too.

Anyway.

These are some of the site changes I've made:

• Created a Summer 2004 page

• Updated the Manullang Grandchildren page with their 2004 portraits

• Added our Orlando trip report and a few pictures

• Created a page of Jack's 3rd birthday party snapshots

• Removed the message board

• Created a Christmas 2004 page

• Added stuff to Presley's page, Alec & Abby's, Julianne & Jacob's, Kathy's, Pete's, and Olivia's

• Misc. archiving (you won't care) and subtle design changes (you won't notice)

• I've been getting lots of spam on our manullang.com e-mail addresses lately, so I've added the text DELETETHIS to our e-mail addresses throughout the site. If you use the links to e-mail us please be sure to delete DELETETHIS from the address before sending.

If you didn't get a Christmas card from the Rehling-Manullangs, too bad for you. They sent out a great family photo. If I weren't so lazy I'd scan it in for the world to see. My mom said she was going to send them one of her Christmas cards, not because she thought they'd care to read her family news but because she wants to get on THEIR Christmas card list! Everyone wants pictures of PQ! (And you too, D&S)

My point is this: Daryl and Sally, you could never send too many pictures of that girl of yours! I need recent digital family pics from Kathy, April, Lori (cruise photos, please), Ed, Jenny, Sherrice, and anyone else who can take a minute to e-mail them to me. If your page is out of date only YOU can change that. I'll try to update again soon.