Found!

Isn't it beautiful?

(also, smaller than I remembered. Funny how that happens)

All About Mama

Mama is my mom's mom. That's her on the left with her sister and brother. (How pretty is she??)

There are several fun bits of family lore concerning Mama that, having verified some details with my mom and gotten permission, I will now share.

Mama and Papa on their wedding day, August 13, 1942

We're not sure the first bit is completely true. There are a couple possible explanations as to why Mama wore blue on her wedding day. One is that they were poor and she already owned a blue dress that suited her so she just wore it. The other is this:

When my Mama and Papa were engaged they went on a trip with another couple. One night, they were supposed to stay at a hotel, girls in one room and boys in a different room. Except the hotel messed up and instead put them in one room with two beds. They strung a curtain up between the beds and the girls shared one bed and the boys shared the other. However, the damage was done and since Mama had "slept with" Papa before their wedding, she just didn't feel she could wear white.

Apparently, my uncle talked to her about this at some point and explained that the modern definition of "sleeping with" someone was not exactly what she thought it was and she was kind of offended.

________________________________________

The next bit is verified and true and awesome.

Apparently Mama could never hold her liquor. On her honeymoon she overdid it a bit and had several glasses of wine when one was usually plenty.

That night, totally sloshed, she went around to the other rooms in her hotel, knocking on doors and offering to wash people's socks.

When she awoke in the morning her room was hung with freshly washed socks and she had no idea who any of them belonged to.

(Aaron and I have the same question: who are these people that they are willing to hand over their dirty socks to the first drunk woman who knocks?)

________________________________________

And I'll finish with a memory of my own.

I had my first raspberry at Mama and Papa's house. She possessed a green thumb that neither my mom nor I inherited and kept a garden in the backyard with different vegetables and a few fruits. I've never much cared for vegetables, but oh! Her raspberries! I always looked forward to them. Nikki and I spent many wonderful hours picking over her raspberry bushes, collecting some to bring inside but mostly just eating them. Raspberries always reminds me of Mama.

This morning I had raspberries on my oatmeal and thought of her with every last glorious bite.

Blog about a time you did something you were really scared to do

Janell's fourth prompt


When I read that prompt I could FEEL the terror of December 21, 2005. The thudding heart, the clammy hands, the churning stomach, the dancing vision.

The day I got married.

Oh yes. I was scared. Panic-stricken! On my wedding day. I almost threw up.

All through our engagement I was perfectly happy. I was thrilled to be marrying Aaron! I didn't even care much about the details of our wedding because I was so busy being totally smitten. The day couldn't come quickly enough.

And then it actually came.

First I have to explain something to my non-Mormon readers. Most members of our church strive for temple marriage. We believe that families can be eternally bound together when married (or "sealed") in the temple. We also believe that temples are sacred and only those who are worthy and prepared can enter and observe and take part in the ordinances that happen therein. Most boys enter the temple before leaving on their missions at age 19 and most girls enter right before they get married or serve a mission at age 21.

All this means means that my sealing to Aaron would be the first temple wedding I had ever seen and therefore I had NO IDEA what was going to happen. My actual thoughts were horribly irreverent, so let's just say I was worried about some really strange possibilities.

Plus there was that whole sex thing.

Mormons believe in chastity before marriage. Meaning you get to do a little light smooching but that's it until you're good and legally wed. After that you are encouraged to go for broke and multiply and replenish but that means after a lot of years being told, "no no no no" all of a sudden they're like "GO." And you're like, "Wait, what, now? All the way? Are you sure?"

So there was kind of a lot on my mind as we drove to the temple that morning. I asked Aaron if he was nervous and he said, "Nope!" And that just made me MORE nauseous.

By the time I hit the bride's room at the temple I was really on the verge of a panic attack. Aaron's mom, Sharan, was dabbing at her eyes while I got ready. Such was my state of mind that I looked at her and asked if she had allergies. Because clearly that's the only reason she would be teary on her son's wedding day. I was too busy to cry. I had to keep my eyes open for exits.

While Aaron and I were waiting to walk into the sealing room I told him I was thinking about running. Props to him for not being too offended (although, he still brings it up from time to time).

Finally, we walked in, we were sealed. It was simple and beautiful and totally normal. There was nothing to fear.

Except by then the damage was done. I ate a few saltines at our luncheon, excused myself to the restroom a couple times because I was pretty sure I was going to throw up and finally had Aaron take me home so I could lay down before our reception. After napping for an hour I was finally able to get a hold of myself and enjoy our reception (...and overcome my fear of that other thing).

Getting married. The scariest thing I've ever done.

Fail. Repeatedly.

Remember how my brother graduated on Thursday?

After we took this picture I said, "Hey! We could use this as our Christmas picture!" and my mom was like, Right, except for the THREE MISSING FAMILY MEMBERS. Oh ya. That guy I'm married to. And our kid. And Nikki's husband, who was standing right in front of me at the time.

(Also, it rained throughout the whole ceremony. Hence the wet and the hair)

On Friday we had a family party for him and, as per usual, I was in charge of dessert.

I decided to make this cake (except with this brownie recipe and a chocolate cake recipe from my Betty Crocker cookbook) (if you decide to make this yourself you might want to find your own cheesecake recipe as well..I was pretty unimpressed).

Normally, I bake my cake layers ahead of time and then freeze them. It makes it way WAY easier to trim, assemble, etc. Except I ran out of time and just ended up baking the cheesecake layer and chocolate cake layers on Friday shortly before they were to be eaten and didn't have time for the freezer step.

This, of course, was the result:

Lesson learned people.

I was out of wax paper and was all annoyed about the lost layer PLUS in a hurry so I just frosted my cake on the cake plate without any kind of barrier (usually I slide strips of wax paper under the edges so it keeps the cake place clean and pretty). Which means frosting got everywhere. Including the very edges of the plate. So that when I carried the cake to the car I got frosting all over my shirt.

And then I broke a nail really low and it hurt like the dickens.

And then I freaked out at my poor mom because there wasn't room in her fridge for my @#$% cake and my finger hurt and I had to change my shirt and WHY IS MY LIFE SO HARD.

And then I got over it and turned my thoughts to Monday's Memorial Day shindig dessert. This chocolate mousse in chocolate cups.

I was really excited about the chocolate cups. They sounded easy enough: melt chocolate, let cool, dip balloons, let harden, remove balloons, add mousse. Way less effort and cleanup than baking. Except for when I do it, apparently.

I stopped by Fresh & Easy and got one of their chocolate bars because their chocolate is seriously good. I melted it in my makeshift double boiler and let it cool for a good long while since the tutorial says the following:

Melt chocolate, either in a double boiler or in the microwave. LET IT
COOL. Seriously, this step can’t be overlooked, or your balloons will
explode all over your kitchen! Let it cool, and when you think it’s cool
enough, let it cool some more. It should be warm but no more than that.

And I did not want exploded chocolate all over my kitchen.

I blew up my nine balloons, dipped the first one in the barely warm chocolate, gently placed it on my (newly acquired) wax paper and POP. Chocolate. Everywhere.

Ooook, I cleaned up the mess and let the chocolate cool some more. Thirty minutes later I dipped another balloon. I set it gently on the wax paper. This one actually let me hope it would work for about 4 seconds before exploding.

I cleaned up the mess again and let the chocolate cool 30 more minutes. At this point it was actually cool to the touch, but apparently that still wasn't enough.

Finally, I got a few to take. I had most of them done when yet another one exploded. Clean up mess. Blow up another balloon plus an extra just in case. Dip, move to fridge.

Have extra explode all over inside of the fridge.

I had FOUR CHOCOLATE BALLOONS EXPLODE ON ME. I thought I got all the exploded chocolate but this morning I found some spatter on my fridge which is all the way across the room from where I was working. Which says to me that the exploding chocolate will be a gift that keeps on giving and I can count on finding odd bits of chocolate for the next few months.

Yay.

Yes, Because That Makes Perfect Sense

I was on the local library's website trying to look up Michael Pollan's In Defense of Food. I put the exact title in the search bar and it returned a YA book called Pythons by James E. Gerholdt.

Share something about the house you grew up in

Janell's third prompt. Also, I was quite young at this point and these are the details as I remember them. No one else seems to remember the exact details like I do, so we'll just say my recollection from when I was 6(?) is perfect.

Image from here.

My dad, being a general contractor at the time, picked an old fixer-upper when he and my mom bought their first house together in the late 1980s. And, like many fixer-uppers, it was never finished. The house I grew up in was under construction from the time we moved in when I was 3 until the time we moved out 11 years later. But stuff like that doesn't matter one bit to kids. I saw that house through rose-colored child-sized glass and to this day wish I could scrape together the ridiculous amount it would take to buy it and move back (I just googled the address and it sold for $849,000 in November of 2005. It's a 3 bd 1.5 bath. San Francisco Bay Area = ridiculous).

Because of the age of the house and constant construction there were holes. Holes in floors, holes in walls, holes beside fixtures. None of us remember the exact details as to why there was a hole in the wall of my parents' bedroom but there was probably a good explanation.

In any event, inside that hole we found a watch. And not just any watch.

A pink Disney Princess Cinderella watch.

When you are a small girl there is no greater joy than a pink Disney Princess Cinderella watch. The fact that it came from inside the wall just made it that much more of a treasure. Since our house was fairly old I was convinced that watch was quite old as well. An antique! Probably an antique worth thousands of dollars!

I touched and held that watch with great reverence, in awe of the beauty and value. I wanted it, of course, but I knew my mom wouldn't give a 6(?) year old girl a watch worth thousands of dollars. Such watches were meant to be kept under glass or maybe sold at an antique store so that I could go to college.

The watch disappeared and, being young and easily distracted, I quickly forgot about it as we soon discovered that there were a bunch of small, glittery beads embedded in the cement outside our neighbor's fence. And, of course, they had to be pried out so that we could do absolutely nothing with them.

Then, a few years after moving to Arizona, I was digging through my mom's jewelry box and lo, what did I find? The watch! She still had it! No wonder I needed a scholarship to go to college. Except by then I was sort of hip to the fact that Disney Princess watches, even pink Cinderella ones, aren't real monetary treasures.

It's still a treasure though! I rediscover it every once in a while and I love that watch. I love that my beloved old house harbored such a treasure to delight a 6 year old. I love that my mom kept it safely hidden away in her jewelry box. I love that, whenever I run across it, I remember us all kneeling in my mom and dad's old room with it's peeling wallpaper and brick fireplace in awe of our beautiful discovery.

I searched long and hard for that watch this weekend so I would have a picture to share. Except apparently now is not the time for me to stumble across it. My parents just moved and it is likely still in a box somewhere. I did, however, find this picture of Cinderella with Nikki and me at Disneyland for my 5th birthday. It works.

Dear people who wonder at Wes's curls,

See: my sister's head, bottom right.

Kisses,

The Straight Haired One on the Left

We Interrupt Our Regularly Scheduled Prompted Blogging to Bring You: My Brother

This is my little brother.


Obviously, the term "little" is relative. For some reason I don't have any pictures of him standing with Nikki and me, but he kind of towers.

Jared graduates today which makes me feel indescribably old. It feels like so recently that I sat on that football field all sweaty in my polyester cap and gown, but here Jared is, 6 years (!!) later, preparing to take that same walk.

In 8 months he will be 19. In the Mormon world that means he'll soon be leaving to serve a two year mission for our church. I won't see him for two years. That is such a very long time. Time enough for Nikki and I both to have babies. For some reason that's where my mind keeps going...he will have family members that will be huge parts of our lives that he won't know at all until he gets home.

My brother has grown into someone I not only love but like. I enjoy being around him. He's funny and sincere and smart. He loves traveling and the National Geographic channel. And despite a few years of rampant geekiness, he's also a lot cooler than Nikki and I ever were (I know! I was not cool! Can you believe it!).

He's also secure enough to occasionally let his geek flag fly. I eavesdropped on this recent Facebook conversation:

David: you're right. it's time for this little squirtle to evolve into a blastoise.
Jared: You have to become a warturtle first though of course. Not that I would know.
David: yeah i just thought that would be too much to dish out at once
Jared: So you thought Blastoise would dish out less. He has freaking cannons on his back.

That's right. Jared busted out his long-held Pokemon knowledge in front of his friends. He's cool enough to do that.

So congratulations, baby brother, we're so proud of you and your accomplishments! We love you!

Share some of your family lore ... a memory from your childhood that sticks with you, something unique about your family, etc.

Janell's second prompt.

I thought and thought and thought and then emailed this prompt to my sister and we discussed and have come to the following conclusion: our childhood was incredibly lovely and full of happy memories but it's really hard to pick out specific things to share that will translate well to blogging. Will get back to you on that part.

I have a couple good bits of family lore though. One I'll save for later (after I scan the picture and verify details), but I really like the story of how my parents met.

Bwahahaha. Please click to enlarge so that you too may enjoy the hair and 'stache.

My dad was fresh off his mission. His was tall, ridiculously skinny, freckly and pale. Soon after getting home he decided to go to institute with a friend. Before they walked in, he turned to his friend and said something along the lines of, "I'm going to find the prettiest girl in there and I'm going to marry her."

Hot.

He picked my mom, but she wasn't exactly swept off her feet. In her words, "I was not impressed."

It took some time and persistence on my dad's part but eventually she DID go out with him, they got engaged and the rest is history.


And my dad is still ridiculously smitten with my mom. He's a shmoop and we love him for it.

Blog about a book that changed the way you look at the world, or that moved you in some way.

Apparently I just needed to talk to Janell in order to get post prompts. She was my first commenter and left me tons of great ideas, all of which I'm excited to write about. Which is how I know asking for help was a stroke of genius. This is her first prompt.

"What dreams may come, When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause" -William Shakespeare, Hamlet

Right after we moved to Arizona my mom found out one of her all-time favorite books, What Dreams May Come by Richard Matheson, was getting made into a movie. She had an old dog-eared copy floating around somewhere but she bought a new one and dove in for the umpteenth time in preparation for seeing the movie when it came out. When she finished, she handed it to me.

I've probably read it 5 times since then.

I'm not sure what it is about that book that I love so much. I start crying on page 4 and don't stop until I've closed the last page. The love story is painfully beautiful but in the end I think it's the afterlife Matheson constructs that keeps me coming back.

The author spent years researching life after death. The book has a ridiculous bibliography at the end listing everything he read and even a quick skim of the titles makes my head hurt a little. His research was seriously extensive.

Matheson blended all this research into a cohesive, fascinating and gloriously detailed afterlife. I love reading through and picking out the elements I recognize from various world religions. I love comparing his afterlife with my own beliefs. I love just losing myself in the wonder of it, walking through this amazing place with Chris and boggling at everything.

The movie was kind of mediocre. The visuals were stunning but there's too much information in the book to translate well and most of the really interesting stuff is lost. I own the DVD, but it's not one I usually recommend to people. The book, however, is constantly getting loaned out. It's a book that touches you and makes you think. You walk away having learned things without realizing that's what you were doing. It's been a favorite for a long time and each rereading moves me and makes me fall in love all over again.



Image from here

Bleeeeh

That's pretty much what my blog has been like lately. It's lagging and lacking. It has no spark or humor or anything to make it really worth reading. It's my own fault since the more I blogged the more I had to blog about and the better my words came. My self imposed blogging slow down killed my blogging mojo.

And so I am tentatively stepping back into slightly more frequent blogging. Probably not daily but definitely more often than the once every week or two I've been averaging. I miss writing and I miss the ease with which words used to come when I wrote frequently. I have plenty of time during naptime and after Wes goes to bed, so I might as well use it.

But I need help.

Before I started writing this post I spent 20 minutes looking for blogging prompts and found nothing that inspired me. So I'm turning to the few readers I have left.

Give me a topic. Ask a question. Send me in a direction. It can be anything and if you give me something then I will write about it. Maybe requiring myself to use your prompts will jumpstart my brain and get me back into blogging mode!

In Which I Try That Whole "Early to Rise" Thing

My running partners and I are closing out our second full week of 10k training. Which is at least partially to blame for the fact that I haven't blogged in almost two weeks. This is what my life looks like:

Run
Give Wes Tylenol for teething
Cross train
Freeze things for Wes to chew on while teething
Strength train
Rub Wes's gums because he's teething
Run some more
Comfort Wes because his mouth huuuurts and teeeething and wah
etc.

So you see why I really have nothing to write about. My energy is devoted to training and all my creativity is being sapped by coming up with new things for Wes to chew on.

Usually we train late at night after the husbands are home and the kids are in bed. We tried a morning run last Saturday so we could just get it out of the way and we almost died so you can imagine how thrilled I was when one of my partners called last night and asked if we could do a 6am run today since her night was booked.

Gag. Bed of pain. Death.

But I did it. I dragged myself out of bed at 5:30 so I could get a bran muffin down and stretch before Marisa and Heather came over at 6. We did our 2.5 miles and cooldown walk and I was back in my house by 6:30.

Part of me wanted to crawl back in bed for 45 minutes but I was too sweaty so I was forced into productivity. I spent a few minutes cleaning the kitchen before Wes got up. I fed us both breakfast and read scriptures with him. We took Aaron to work and then went grocery shopping (where, having been inspired by Janssen, I only spent $50 on groceries for the week. Including diapers. I rock at life). Wes just went down for a nap which gives me a few minutes to get tonight's dinner in the crockpot before I shower for our Thursday library date.

Which means that by 10:30 today I will have accomplished everything on my to-do list for the day. Plus blogging, which I hadn't counted on seeing as I have been lacking inspiration.

You know those crazy people who voluntarily get up at the butt crack of dawn? They may be on to something.

I'm On My Feet, I'm On the Floor, I'm Good to Go

I ran the Scottsdale Night Run for the Arts on Saturday with my good friends Heather and Marisa and her husband Paul. The weather was perfect, the route was great and I only felt like dying just a little bit there at the end after they sent us up a hill. Note to selves: add hill training.

All the runners: Paul, Marisa, Heather and me. Heather's husband, Collin, and son, Coen hung out with Aaron and Wes while we ran.

Me and my lovely and beloved running partners before heading to the starting line. I actually LOOK FORWARD to running because of them. Crazy, but true.

Heather and I crossing the finish line. We shaved a 1/2 minute off our mile time! Which I was feeling pretty good about until this guy ran the 8k in 25 minutes. That's a 5 minute mile, my friends, and I'm pretty sure it would kill me.


Next up: a September 10k!