The Night the Transformer Blew...

I awoke from my sleep at three o'clock in the morning to the sound of a transformer in the final moments before it blows. You know that sound?  The loud buzzing noise that a transformer makes when the electricity is running too high and the transformer is no longer able to control the wattage.  That noise.

I shot out of bed and ran straight for the window, pulling open the shutters and checking the side of the house and the street for any sign of trouble. There wasn't anything wrong. So I opened the bedroom door and found that the noise seemed to be radiating throughout the entire house. It was loud.

So I searched.

I went to the kitchen first and opened all the shutters checking the side of the house, the neighbors house and angled my head just right so I could see the big transformer that sits behind our neighborhood grocery store. It's huge. It's the transformer in our town that usually blows once a year during a bad snow storm. There was nothing wrong with it.  No sparks. No massive flashes of blue light. No other neighbors looking out the windows for the sound of this buzzing noise that was obnoxiously loud and causing me serious concern.

If the noise wasn't coming from outside then it had to be coming from inside.  An electrical surge was pulsating through the walls of my pretty little home and it was important that I find it, or the appliance that was causing the problem, before a fire started and we were forced out into the streets with nothing but the clothes on our backs and two little puppies that have no idea how good they have it.

So I did what any wife would do... I woke up Richard.

"Richard! Wake up! There's a noise in the house."

"Wha... What?"

"WAKE UP!"

"What's wrong? Where's the noise?"

"Can't you hear it?"

"Hear what?"

"That buzzing noise. It sounds like an appliance is about to blow."

"What appliance?"

"I don't know. I can't figure out which one it is, but I know its not outside. It's in the house. Can't you hear the noise?"

"Maybe it's the ceiling fan in your room..."

PAUSE:  Yes, he said "your room". I sleep in the guest room because Richard snores. Really loud. And I like to sleep. Uninterrupted. It really isn't a big deal. We've tried the together thing, but I always end up having to leave so I just started going to bed in the guest room every night.  Okay?

Now, where were we?

That's right. Richard goes to my room and turns off the ceiling fan, but it didn't make any difference in the buzzing sound that was still radiating throughout the entire house.  So we moved our search to the kitchen since that's where the most expensive and high voltage items are.  (That should probably read wattage or something, but what do I know. I ain't no electrician.)

We're in the kitchen. All the shutters are open. Me searching the appliances while Richard stands at the kitchen table insisting there is no noise.

"Sweetheart, look. I really don't hear anything. What does the noise sound like again?"

"It's the buzzing noise. You know that noise that transformer behind the supermarket makes every year during the snow storms. It's like that, but constant. It hasn't stopped since it woke me. I really don't know why you can't hear it."

And that's when the lights went on. Not in the house. We were totally standing around in our undies in the dark. It was the light in my head. That light bulb moment that comes when you have that one perfect thought of clarity.  We've all had it. I was having that moment right then.

It was right after Richard called me sweetheart that I noticed this noise, this buzzing obnoxiousness that was radiating in my house, never seemed to get louder or quieter no matter where I went. It was a consistent volume.

Loud. Loud. Loud.

So I did it. I did the only thing I could think of to solve the mystery of the transformer that was ready to blow.

I shoved a finger in each ear.

Amazing.

Not only is the noise still the same... my finger is vibrating.  Holy Crapoli! The noise was coming from me.

"Richard.  The noise is coming from my ear. It's still loud when I put my finger in it and my finger actually vibrates a little."

"Your ear? If it's that loud we should take you the hospital."

"I'm not going to the hospital!"

"Why?

"Go to the hospital and do what? Tell them I'm hearing noises in my head?  They'll think I'm crazy."

Yep, crazy.  I searched the house with my spouse for thirty minutes looking for a noise that was inside my head the entire time. The noise was so loud I'm still surprised Richard didn't hear it when he was standing next to me.

In the end we both went back to bed. Richard went to his room and I went to my room and I rolled over on my side. It took about an hour before the pressure built up in my ear and then after some little crackling noises my ear started to drain fluid.

A crackle here, a crackle there... zzzz zzzzz zzzzzz.

Quiet.

Questioning the Questionable...

If you are a reader of my book blog you may have noticed that it has been unusually quiet the last few days. I really like to have something for my readers to read or know about 2 -3 times a week, but lately...

I've been overwhelmed with information that has left me feeling angry, annoyed, defensive, angry, angry and angry.

First I had complaints about how many times I updated my Facebook status... then it was how I shouldn't be allowed to socialize on twitter... then it was my book reading choices.

All of it question-able.

I don't care what you think of my Facebook status updates. If it bothers you that much then un-friend me. They do allow that option, ya know. As far as twitter is concerned... these wonderful people have made my world a better place. The people I've unofficially "met" are so nice that I've labeled them all my twitter family. I'm protective of them. I cry with them.  I mourn with them. I rejoice with them.

If you don't want to be on Twitter then I forever invite you to stay off the Twitter feed, but to suggest I shouldn't be socializing with this wonderful group of people that I've never really met... Well, you're entitled to that opinion. Thanks for letting me know?

Which brings me to my books. And my blog.

I read a lot of crime fiction. It's true. Can't get enough of the stuff, myself. I also have a love for short stories and short story collections, and I even like this new-to-me genre I've found called, Noir. Love the stuff.

But I also like historical fiction, young adult books, children's books, paranormal romance (although romance itself is pretty much out) and I also developed a recent interest in poetry. I know! Me, liking poetry? Whoever would have thunk it?

Is it questionable? My reading?

Maybe it is for you. And that isn't wrong, but it also doesn't mean that I throw away my reading material because it isn't something that you like. I read what I like. You read what you like. Asking my husband to monitor me or even censor me in my blog writing... Well, that's when lines get crossed and I get to share my thoughts on the subject.

Which is this.

My guess would be that if I had decided to start a christian based book blog it would have been acceptable. Oh, wait. No, it wouldn't have, because then I would be reading books by authors of another faith that might have opposing viewpoints from my gospel teachings. It would have been a problem... For someone.

I read fiction. I want to make sure we are clear on that. It means that the books that I read are made up stories written by really creative people that have the gift of telling a story on paper. I consider them perfect.  The great thing about my blog is, if you don't like a book I suggest, you don't have to read it. The other great thing about my blog is, if you don't like it, you don't have to read it.

Simple...Yet so complicated for some.

I have this really great job that I love with all my heart. It exposes me to details of horrific crimes that have actually happened.  No author of fiction will ever fully grasp the details of the reports that I read day in and day out. They will never be able to fully describe the sound of a mother's voice when she calls 911 to report the murder of her son. Or accurately describe the catch in her voice when she realizes with perfect clarity that she is in the same room with the person that has committed the crime. I've heard the sound of a mother cry at such a loss and held her hand as we went through the court proceedings... together.  I've also seen the faces of men, women and children that have lost their lives in the most horrible of circumstances. These are the sights and sounds that truly haunt my dreams.  Not the made up words that I'm reading in a work of fiction.

So as you sit in your homes passing judgment on me and a group of individuals that have written stories and books that you have never read, know this...

They are my friends.

They are my inspiration.

They are people that make me a better person every single day.

I read what I feel is acceptable to me. I stay away from things that I have no interest in. For instance... Glenn Beck. You do know he isn't a Prophet of God, right? That the quotes you use from his books are not considered doctrine?  I know these things. Which is why I don't read his books.

See... I think things are questionable, too. I just don't feel it's my place to tell you what to read.

I don't know.  Maybe this post will make you feel better? Help you sleep at night?

Maybe.

Or should I start looking for a new job because the one I currently have can easily be labeled...

Questionable?

A Valentine's Day Special

Okay, so this isn't a typical post for a "family" blog, but...I'm not sharing anything too personal.

Richard dropped in for a visit while I was showering the other day. He started to sing this cheesy song by Bruno Mars that we had just listened to in the car on our way home from dinner the night before.  It's a "girly" song. I actually find it quite fun and I freely admit that I like to bop to the beat of the music on my way to work in the mornings.  Anyway, he changed the words around and made up his own, and well, it was just...fun!

We are also Glee fans. Say what you will about the show. I like it!  So, today I'm going to share the song that Richard sang to me in the shower. It was fun. It was spontaneous. It was us.

Have a wonderful Valentine's Day and many, many happy days after that!

Oh! And you get to hear the song being performed by the Glee kids! Woo Hoo!  Life doesn't get any sweeter than that!

"I THINK I WANNA MARRY YOU..." 
 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vCLbEHCyNa0

Saying Goodbye to Regret

The last few weeks I have been struggling with insecurity. It started with a phone call I received that brought me back to my childhood. A part of my life that has never been discussed in my family.  It was a year of my life that was extremely difficult, and also caused grief for many.  I'm writing about that experience today because I'm tired of it creeping up on me when the phone rings, and because I can't allow it to upset and control me anymore.  This is me letting go. Think what you will, but know that I hate being haunted by these memories.

I think as a child the world just seems...simple. I was living in what seemed like a horrible place. In relation to what a family life should be like, it was awful. But at the same time, when I set out to fix our circumstances and possibly change the course of my life I had no idea that there could be something worse waiting for me around the corner.  It's the only blind corner I've encountered in my life, and I can honestly say that if I could have seen around it I would have stayed in the hell that we were living in. I would have found a way to make it work. But, I think even as a child, we have our limits. At some point, regardless of age, we all make a decision.

I was chopping wood. My favorite thing to do in the Fall. It was a Saturday morning and I had managed to get my brother to swap chores for the day. It was just me in the cool crisp air, standing beneath the huge weeping willow tree that had grown for years on the south side of our home, planted and raised long before the Echols family had come along. I was taking in the smell of the wood stoves burning throughout the neighborhood and secretly wondering just how quickly I could make it through this pile of wood.    

I've always loved the smell of freshly cut wood, and the sounds of the wood splitting with each strike.  I considered myself lucky since most of my elementary school friends weren't allowed to participate in such a "difficult" task. Chopping kindling was my favorite part.  The smaller the pieces of wood became the more precise my aim would be. Seems like a metaphor now because the more difficult my options become as an adult, the more quick and precise I am at making a decision.

Okay, where were we?  Oh yes, the wood pile.

I had been chopping wood for about twenty minutes when the back door opened and my step-mother, Freda stepped out. She rummaged through the pile looking for a perfect piece of wood and then as quickly as she came, she was gone. She looked at me through the glass in the door as she locked it.  I could hear yelling inside. It was a horrible exchange between her and my brother and before I could process what was happening I could hear the sounds and literally feel the vibrations of feet running up to the second floor.

By the time I climbed up the wood pile and crawled through the laundry room window and made my way to the stairs...Freda was on her way down. It was at the moment when I passed her on the stairs and looked in her in the eye that I knew I had to do something to change our life. Our eldest siblings had all ran away from home and I knew it would be just a short time before my brother would do the same.  I also knew I would be next, and I didn't want to be next. I just wanted it to end.

I sat down with my father when he returned from over seas and I flat out told him that Freda needed to go. I was eleven at the time, and clearly I was better at this adult stuff then he was.  After all, this wasn't the first incident and we already knew that over time, the older you became the bigger the target you were.  It was a vicious cycle that would never end.  And to help him justify the decision I reminded him of things she had done over the years that were just...dumb. Remember the time she bought the new car without asking? Or when she insisted I eat the same bowl of disgusting stew every single day for every single meal for an entire week until you came home and stopped it? How about the time she bought that house on the other side of town and didn't bother to tell you?  Remember how you showed up at the old residence only to find out that we didn't live there anymore?  Or the times when I was grounded and was only allowed one meal and potty break a day?  Remember those plastic eggs you found in the bushes below my bedroom window?  Do I really need to tell you what they contained?  Or how about the fashion business she started?  DISASTER!

Obviously he agreed or I wouldn't be writing this post. I just assumed I would take over the household chores and be the woman of the house.  I had no idea there were actually laws in place that wouldn't allow children to live in a home without adult supervision.  At the time it just made perfect sense. I would do the cleaning and the cooking, Dad would set us up with all the food before he would leave on his business trips, and  we'd be there waiting when he came home every few weeks. It was such a simple solution to the problem.

But this is where the story takes a disastrous turn...

We were sent away. Two weeks later our bags were packed and we were shipped off to live with our sister and her husband and his family on the Island of Oahu. I'm sure most children would be envious. I admit, I was excited, and I couldn't wait to leave.  I imagined the warmth of the sun and the sounds of the ocean and  the feeling of sand between my toes.  Instead it was a blind corner. I couldn't see past the sun and the surf, and if I had been given any idea of what was really around that corner I would have put the brakes on the divorce and I would have made them stay married.  That's how much of a disaster this turned out to be. I was already living in hell and I was about to find out in the worst possible way, that there is indeed, a place even lower.

Without too many details, our living arrangements were less than stellar. We would be living in the bottom level of a two story home. The stairs were blocked off from the residence above, and our living arrangements were for 5 people to share a two bedroom and one bath section with a living / kitchen combo. My brother roomed with our nephew and I got the pull-out couch in the living / kitchen area. I wanted to tell my father that night when we called that we needed to go back, but...Howard told us what to say.  I watched roaches crawl across the dishes and ants feast in a corner all while trying to sound like I was living in the best environment a father could give me. There were mice.  We had lizards that crawled on the ceilings at night and would drop on our heads while we slept.  Not to mention the centipedes in the bathroom.  It was disgusting.

But...I honestly thought I could make it better. When I went to bed that night, knowing after the phone call that we wouldn't be returning home, I was resigned to my life and was willing to adjust.  I've always been willing to adjust.  But my resolve to make it work switched to despair when on that very first night- I was forced to  share my bed.  I tried to ask for help, but all my letters were stolen and  I was beaten more than once for trying to send letters to my father. I was there an entire school year and never once did I unpack my bag. My packed suitcase was always a symbol of hope. Something to look forward to, I suppose. Who knows now. And does it matter?

It ended. I survived. I moved forward...when I was forced to forget.

Unfortunately my inability to endure Freda has become my only regret in life. It wasn't because of what I went through. At the time, everyone said it was deserved. I do regret what it did to my brother and also for what it did to my eldest sister who has, for years, tried to seek forgiveness from me for the things she allowed to happen. But did she really allow these things to take place? In her mind she seems to think she did. And no matter how hard I try to move forward and try to forget, eventually the phone will ring.  The phone will ring and I'm forced to listen to an apology choked out through tears with such incredible sorrow that it forces the very breath from my lungs. She regrets the year in Hawaii and I regret the incident that led to it. I blame me and she blames herself.  In the end I always smile and tell her to let it go because until she finally comes to terms with it, I will never be allowed to forget. I'll be forever looking back...when all I really want to do is move forward.

I'm always trying to move forward now...and praying that the phone doesn't ring.

This post is being written  as a form  therapy and for personal growth.  If anyone reading this looks at me with sympathy I will personally scratch your eyes out.  Thanks for reading and I appreciate you visiting my blog.

When All Is Right With The World

Or should I say- when all is right in my world? 

The last four years have been an extremely difficult time for me with regards to my employment.  Our office saw the rise (and ultimate fall) of an incredibly corrupt elected official that did nothing but help herself to tax payers funds and make a complete mockery of a system that is supposed to be here as an example to the citizens of Salt Lake County. 

Her first item of business when she was elected was to request an incredible pay increase for a job she had never participated in and was never really qualified for.  She ran on the Republican ticket and her BYU education in the hopes that the citizens would be too "church struck" to notice that she was a wolf in sheep's clothing.

She then falsified statistics to secure funding for new attorneys to fight crime.  According to the arresting agencies in the area, they had never seen the same statistical increase that our office had.  The money was used to bring in her inexperienced friends to run divisions in our office from locations that seemed to be anywhere but at the office. 

She fired a former prosecutor with over 25 years of experience. It doesn't take a genius to know that the issue had to do with his audacity to run against her in the election.   Ultimately it was determined that his termination wasn't justified and he was reinstated.  Of course, she retaliated against him, costing the County hundreds of thousands of dollars to settle. It's amazing what pride can do, isn't it?

She instituted the Discovery Fee's that would ultimately require our office to charge private defense attorneys for access to our records.  Never mind that most of the discovery was being provided to our office free of charge by the arresting agency.  She stooped to a new low...all in the name of making a quick buck.

She unjustly spent federal grant money to hire people from her husbands private firm. Does anybody else see a problem with this?  These individuals didn't have to go through the proper hiring procedures and ultimately, more qualified individuals in Salt Lake County missed out on a great employment opportunity. 

Do you have any idea how difficult it is to be forced to participate in conduct that you know is unethical?  Do you know how difficult it is to see people being mistreated in a work environment and know there isn't anything you can do to stop it because all of the officials in the office are just as bad as the "top dog?" 

Well, eventually we fought back. And...we won!

Tomorrow, Sim Gill, the newly elected Salt Lake County District Attorney will be taking an oath to protect the citizens of Salt Lake County. I'll be there to witness the event.  For many of us this will be a day of renewal.  A day that we've spent years waiting for.  It will be a time where we can finally let go of the past and all the things we've endured and have been forced to do, and know that as soon as that oath is taken...it all goes away and we can start over. 

Having witnessed first hand what this corruption can do...I personally will do whatever it takes to make sure this past individual never holds office again in the state of Utah.  When she decides to run for Mayor of Salt Lake County, I'll be there to remind the citizens why she wasn't reelected as District Attorney.  When she tries to run for Attorney General, I'll inform the citizens of her misconduct while serving as District Attorney and remind them that she still has yet to prosecute a felony.  If she can't prosecute even the simplest of cases at the local level then clearly, she isn't qualified to run an entire state judicial system.  I'll be there. I will always be there as a reminder of who she really is.  I will never let people forget. 

So, for the first time in a very long, long time...all is right in my world. 

Happy New Year!

I'M THANKFUL FOR...

MY HUSBAND-a house to call home-DORA-COPPER-family-books-twitter-warm clothes in the winter-FRIENDS-bottle caps-LUPUS RESEARCH INSTITUTE-cameras so I can take self portraits-vacations-coworkers that help out when I'm gone-my neighborhood-MY NEIGHBORS-the gospel of Jesus Christ-facebook-blogger-MY FRIENDS CALL ME KATE-green grass in the spring-DR. SHASKEY-music-people that inspire me-recipes-PARENTS-golf-people that write books-picture frames so I can see photos of me with my most adorable husband-the harrison family-the whipple family-the park family-the peterson family-THE BEZZANTS-the mechams-the gifford family-sister stoddard-the tarrants and their new little family-the allen family-the eddy family-the dymocks-THE BURBIDGE FAMILY-the herrera family-the hills-the hull family-the ogaard family-the murdocks-the maughans-the ovard family-sister ovard's mom (I can't remember her name, but she knows I love her because I give her hugs when I see her at church)-MIKE AND MARGIE PAGET-the pearce family-the phillips-sister polanco-the richharts-todd and melissa rogers-the rood family-the sochas-the stephens-veda welker-the twede family-the tuilimu family and little Isaac for calling me "teacher" every sunday-the thulin family and the way they quietly inspire others to do better and to learn more-the wildings-the wilkinsons-ALL 205 OF MY FACEBOOK FRIENDS (NOT BECAUSE I MEASURE MY WORTH BY NUMBERS, BUT BECAUSE I CAN'T BELIEVE I SUCKERED THAT MANY PEOPLE INTO BEING MY FRIEND-baptisms-missionaries-bookmarks-CYPRUS CREDIT UNION FOR NOT MAKING FUN OF ME FOR REFUSING TO USE THE DRIVE THRU TELLER THINGY-my trip to new york-THE NEW YORK TIMES-the internet that makes this post possible-lorin twede for being my friend on facebook-sara at work for always reading my blog posts and leaving me comments (my self worth is measured by the number of comments my posts receive) ELIZABETH WHITE FOR BEING KIND TO ME AND MY BOOK BLOG-joseph finder for not hating my review of Vanished-SISTERS-BROTHERS TOO-my father who has been my protector since birth-julianne connors for making me realize that even drunk drivers need to be forgiven (I'm still not quite over the memory loss part, but eventually I'll forgive you for that)-TURKEY DINNER-pumpkin pie-the right to vote lohra miller out of office-SIM GILL THE NEW DISTRICT ATTORNEY-did i mention books-MY 114 FOLLOWERS ON TWITTER-stephanie-vicki-jennifer-jacque-cindy-pam-christine-angela-adrianna-paula martin-leah anderson, a soon to be published author-gabrielle-rhonda-Denis-Ginger-Judge Katie Bernards-Goodman-my Vegas friends-MY MOTHER-my husbands dutch oven cooking skills-the bowden family-the eddingtons-the southworths-the ross family-my wonderful friends from Coos Bay, Oregon-always the parker family members-the entire coos bay ward for raising me right-and everyone and any item I might have forgotten about. 

 HAPPY THANKSGIVING!  THE OGDEN FAMILY

IS IT OVER?

I had the flu and ended up at the hospital twice for IV fluids.  My favorite peeps were on hand to help with the long task of finding the perfect vein.  They are by far the best IV installers I've ever met.  Thanks Peggy and Troy. YOU ROCK!

On day three of the flu a box arrived in the mail.  It was full of 9 beautiful books.  Thanks Elizabeth for sending me some great reads.  I can't wait to dive into The Breach by Patrick Lee.  It was recommended to me by his agent, Janet Reid.  Thanks to you, it is now one book I don't have to purchase.  YEAH ME! Or, should I say....YEAH ELIZABETH!

On day four I received another package.  It contained a book.  I won The Swan Thieves by Elizabeth Kostova from Back Bay Books.  Thanks Back Bay Books for being kind enough to give away books without me having to guess what books you have on your shelf.  NOTE:  I have a tendency to remember books by author and title, not publishing company. If you want to announce that you are giving away free books to anyone who would like one, DON'T make me play guessing games with you in order to get a damn book.  I don't know what "leftovers" you're trying to give away on that bookshelf of yours.  Just take my name when I respond and send me a damn book if you want to give them away.  Again, thanks Back Bay Books for The Swan Thieves by Elizabeth Kostova.

On day two or three of the dreaded flu, my hubby brought me home a box of my favorite candy.  BOTTLE CAPS!  (I'm perfectly aware that in computer world, all caps equals shouting.  I use all caps to show my enthusiasm.  Sorry if this offends.)  BOTTLE CAPS!  I love Bottle Caps.  That WONKA dude is one smart guy.  Did you know you can like WONKA and Bottle Caps on Facebook?  You can, and I did today.  I highly recommend you do the same!  BOTTLE CAPS RULE!

And that ends my little adventure this week.  I hope yours was as equally entertaining.  Well, minus the flu part and the hospital stuff. 

Much love- 

 Sabrina Ogden