I'm seeing red...

... in my very own garden ....

.... in my very own freezer.....


....in my little tupperware bowls (in inevitably in my tummy)....


.... and in my sewing room....


Red is the color of summer. Next to plaid, it's my favorite color.
Red always cheers me up. And I've needed some cheering up lately.

The day after we got home from our trip, I got a phone call from my mom telling me that one of my high school friends (someone I've been trying to track down for the past few years), actually passed away in May from an obscure strain of bone cancer. She had been fighting it for two years, and had spent several months in Boston for experimental treatments, which, from what I've gathered from several friends, did nothing to alleviate any pain, but did help in the research of this horrible disease. In other words, she knew it wasn't going to help her, but that it might help someone else in the long run.

From my high school yearbook...

I have so many memories of this girl. She was like human sunshine -- she always had a smile (except for her senior picture, where she was uncharacteristically solemn and which we constantly teased her about) and a laugh, and frankly, together we were a pretty wacky combination. She helped me coin the phrase that helped me pass biology in high school as well as college -- "Keep People Completely Off Free Grass Samples". We named every creature we dissected in that class, and even held a little memorial for their remains after each lab. (Okay, so we were pretty weird, too, but like I said, it got me through that class!) She had the coolest house I've ever seen -- It was literally built around a huge oak tree. It grew through the living room floor and out the wall and onto the balcony, and we used to have countless slumber parties under the branches. If it weren't for her, I would never have gotten a date to prom.

There were very few people that knew about her condition -- she didn't want anyone to grieve for her, and even before she passed away, the few friends that did know gathered around her for one last fling (actually, they sat around her living room and shared a few pitchers of margaritas) and celebrated her life, however short lived. She left behind a five year old daughter and a remarkable husband, and I wish there was something more I could do for them except cry.

It's taken me this whole long week to come to grips with the fact that she's no longer with us.

I've wavered back and forth from shock to disbelief to sorrow to a little bit of anger -- after all, it's just not fair. She was only 38 years old. I've wept, I've raged, and I threw myself into making pints of strawberry jam. Thankfully, I have a very understanding husband who's let me weep and rage and make jam, but even better, he offered to give me a priesthood blessing of comfort, which is better than jam.

And then I could breathe a little.

And then I threw myself into finishing Stephanie's quilt.
Best therapy I could think of, and it worked.

I feel very much at peace that Samara lived the fullest life she could -- she brought a beautiful little girl into this world, and brought a lot of happiness to a lot of people. Her husband was a lucky many, and I feel truly blessed to have been called her friend.

And I can't think of anyone I'd rather dedicate my 200th post to.