One Wild Day

First of all, check out these pictures:




Ugh, aren't we just so cute that you want to throw up? Smiling and hugging and wearing color-coordinated outfits, all wrapped up in wildflower goodness? Uh-huh. Here's the true story of The Day of The Wildflowers (I'm lifting the following story from an email I already sent because I don't think I can relive it all by writing about it one more time):

"The wildflowers have been outstanding this spring, following a couple really rotten years, so I did lots of web-based research and found a great drive for us to do together. We set aside a promising Saturday at least a month in advance, because our Saturdays fill up like crazy, as I am sure yours do, too. I looked forward to it for weeks and when the day came... I set off with such a good attitude. An hour out we stopped at our favorite bakery for cookies, then pressed on to "The Willow City Loop", which was really, really beautiful. Bluebonnets all over the place, and even some very picturesque longhorns grazing in a field. ("Look at the beautiful flowers! Oooh, don't they smell nice? Oh, Nat, look at the cows!") Ella was bored the whole time, and highly vocal about it. Natalie was ultra-grumpy, and threw fits every time we stopped the car and got out because she wanted to sit in the front seat and "drive" the car. After a couple hours of this, all I wanted was a family picture so we could prove we'd been there. We found a likely spot, with a little bald patch in the midst of the flowers, good for sitting. I sat, Greg brought me Natalie, and she she arched her back and threw her head straight into my nose. Yeah, it's all fun and games until Mom gets hit in the nose. We did take a picture, finally, and luckily I was wearing sunglasses so you couldn't see the tears streaming down. Then, as we were shoving children into the car, I heard Greg say, "Don't step on the flowers!" I turned and saw a kid just stomping the heck out of a patch of bluebonnets by the road. His mother immediately whipped around and yelled, "Don't tell my child what to do!" which sparked a big long argument. Meanwhile, I had detected that Natalie's diaper was full to overflowing and had to change her on the trunk of the car while Redneck Mama continued yelling and Greg defended his (shaky) ground."

"Then we went home. Oh, wait, we also stopped at some port-a-potties and after getting Ella settled in one ("Don't touch that, and EW, don't touch THAT") I opened the door to the neighboring one and there was a man inside, LUCKILY facing away from me, who bellowed in a very shocked way. Um, hello? That's what the lock on the door is for. I got back in the car, told my family that I was DONE making fun for them, and sulked all the way home."

I have since recovered and once again found myself on the "Let's Have Some Family Fun" bandwagon last weekend when we drove up to Austin to see Ralph (Of the Disney-affiliated "Ralph's World"--ever heard of him?) in concert. More on that to come. I'll just say that as no noses were nearly broken, I called it a success.

Triple Wheeze

So, in the 5th grade I was diagnosed with activity-induced asthma, and I spent at least the next 15 years wheezing. After I got married I finally saw a specialist who helped me get things under control, and I can now do most anything without any medication at all. Really, it is a miracle. I can remember dreading having to run "The Mile" in middle school because by the end I would literally be on the ground, gasping for air. (You would think that the oh-so compassionate PE teachers would have noticed something amiss, but nooooo...) But today I did a freshman triathlon--200 meter swim, 10 mile bike ride, and 2 mile run. And I finished! When I signed up my cavalier attitude was something along the lines of, "I know I'm slow, but I'll do it just for fun." A couple days ago, though, panic set in, and I was sure I'd be the last one to cross the finish line. I had a nightmare at 2:30am about running before swimming and therefore messing everything up. I woke up at 5:30 this morning thinking, "Why am I doing this again?"

But you know, I did it! Here I am plugging along in the swim. The pool sure didn't look that big, and I only had to do 4 laps there and back, but wow was I glad when it was over. I think my swim cap is super chic.

Here I am leaving the transition area with my granny bike. I love it--it's super-sturdy and comfortable to ride. Also super-heavy and slow, but oh well. The ride was by far my favorite part, but the whole time (as my lungs adjusted to life after the swim) I couldn't stop thinking, "And they expect me to be able to RUN after this?!"

And I'm off! I didn't make it very far before I had to walk (oh, and readjust my $5 shorts so they wouldn't fall down around my ankles) but I did run on and off the rest of the way. I ran the last 200 yards to the finish, of course.

And here I am with my babies, who cheered me on with their daddy every step of the way. I came in 197th overall (out of 250+)--not bad for the little wheezer that could!

Allergies and the hookworm

It's allergy season in San Antonio. Which means that everything is covered with green powdery pollen from the oak trees. It is everywhere and my body is not happy about it.

Last night while driving home I heard Act II of This American Life episode 404 about a guy with terrible allergies and asthma who learned that those diseases basically don't exist in the developing world. The reason for this, he learned, is a parasite, specifically hookworm. According to the program, having a hookworm calms your immune system response so you don't develop that condition where your immune system is trying to kill you. (my exaggerated non-scientific language, but still, you get the point)

So this guy goes to Africa and walks around barefoot in yucky places to intentionally infect himself with hookworm. He returns to Santa Cruz and the next time allergy season comes around he has no issues. His eyes don't swell shut. He is not sent to the hospital because of severe asthma attacks. He is cured. He drives down the highway with his windows rolled down shouting for joy.

Fascinating stuff.

Hmmmm hookworm...

Hoppy Easter!

Natalie, Ella, and the Easter Bunny (otherwise known as Sadie) wish you a beautiful day!

Tour de Willden

So, my mom was here for a few weeks and we played and played and PLAYED! We all had varying degrees of colds and the weather was generally pretty icky, but still managed to have fun. One Saturday I woke up to find that Greg and Grandma had decided that it was a good day for a bike ride. I wondered at Grandma's enthusiasm for the plan, but it seemed genuine, and I'm always up for a bike ride so off we went to the mission trail. Natalie had her first ride in the trailer, and I pulled it for the first time EVER (I am SO TOUGH), while Ella cruised behind her dad's bike on her new Schwinn Runabout. Have you seen these things? They basically create a tandem bike--Ella loved it. And Grandma? Well, she made it to the first hill and decided she would find a comfy spot in the shade and wait out the rest of the ride. We picked her up when we were done.

The helmet didn't last--it was way too big. And she was sitting in a pool of snacks by the time we were finished.

Greg and Ella took the lead on the trail and Ella shouted warnings to me as they rode: "Bridge!" "Big bump!" "Going uphill!"

I eventually fixed Nat's straps and removed the helmet so she no longer looked like a little slumpy mushroom.

Fortunately for Grandma, she had her cell phone with her so she could make some calls while she waited for us at Mission San Juan.

Love Darts

Natalie and I just got back from a walk, and it is a gorgeous day--warm, blue skies, mild breeze... As we walked, I caught a scent in the air that took me straight back to my elementary school playground, a smell that can best be described as "hot weeds". It made me smile, and suddenly I was thinking about love darts. Did anyone else make these or were they peculiar to Walnut Acres Elementary? During recess, we would run around picking weeds, specifically a hard, round yellow one (which I am pretty sure is chamomile because that's part of the "hot weeds" smell) and a feathery green one that we thought looked like a stalk of wheat. We stuck the feathery one into the yellow one, and voila! A love dart! I don't remember the exact magical powers of the love dart, but it had something to do with the boy you hit falling madly in love with you forever. (We were VERY careful with our aim, believe me!)

Which led me to think about Eddie Rathbun, my first boyfriend. We were 6 years old, and quite the hot item of the first grade. In the third grade we suffered through a unit of square dancing together and had to HOLD HANDS, which was mortifying, but in the first grade everyone knew we liked each other, and that was pretty much it. Well, except for the day I kissed him. It was recess and I was at the water trough (remember those?), probably on a break from running around, throwing love darts at boys. I was trying to have a peaceful drink, but Eddie was pestering me. I tried to think of a threat that would make him back off, and this is what my 6-year-old mind came up with: "If you don't leave me alone, I'm going to KISS you!" The pestering continued, and what can I say? I couldn't back down--I had to kiss him! I chased him, caught him (he was shockingly easy to catch), and planted a smooch on his cheek. But it didn't work! He didn't go away! Ah, the power of love darts. I'll have to warn Ella, who is now a first grader, that kissing boys as a way of getting them to leave you alone may not have the desired effect.

And check this out--a genuine picture of me in a play in the first grade! I was a gypsy, can you tell? (Nice handiwork, Mom.) And Eddie is in the picture, too--he's the kid in the back with his head down.

Here's one more of me, age six, minus the fetching kerchief and beads.

5,256,000 Minutes of Wedded Bliss

10 years ago today Greg and I were married! It was a marvelous day. Despite predictions of apocalyptic storms and "gale force winds" our wedding morning dawned gray but pleasant. Our sealing at the Oakland Temple was beautiful and we were surrounded by loved ones. My bouquet was a masterpiece and smelled divine--whenever I smell stock or tuberoses I go right back to that day.

People are STILL talking about our reception ("My reception, my reception!") 10 years later because it was a rocking party! We danced the night away. Our cake was utterly delicious--layers of chocolate and hazelnut topped with vanilla buttercream. It was so good that instead of sticking the top of the cake in the freezer for a year to become increasingly inedible, we took it with us on our honeymoon and enjoyed it properly.

You know, I knew when I married him that Greg was the right man for me, but every one of the 5,256,000 minutes that have passed since that day have confirmed and enlarged that understanding. I love him with all of my heart. We have had the best of good times together, and he has been my steady rock during the more turbulent moments. He's my best friend and the love of my life. I look forward to the millions and billions of minutes ahead of us, whatever they may bring.

Oh My Heck!!!

We won, we won, we won! Greg just called me and said, "I thought I'd let you know that someone in Hurricane, Utah has commented on our blog to congratulate you on winning the Shannon Hale contest." Huh? So I did a little investigating, and lo and behold, WE WON! To see the announcement, go to Shannon Hale's blog at http://oinks.squeetus.com/. You can see our entry here.

I am so thrilled! We had so much fun reading the book, discussing, and putting our entry together. Four of the six of us (Mandi, Jen, Rebecca, and I) have birthdays in March, so this is one heck of a birthday present for us. We'll have to throw ourselves a party, with Jell-O, birthday pie, and punch, and open our present! (Oh, the contest prize is a box of books from the author.)

Mandi, Jen, Rebecca, Debbie, and Amy, you are the best! I love you lots!

Outlaws From Other Planets

Ah, Valentine's Day. Not a year passes that I don't fondly look back on the Valentine's Day I spent as a missionary in Seattle, Washington, way back in 1998. My companion, Sister Jeppson, and I were out being diligent missionaries and we met a very special lady. Here's part of my journal entry from that day:

"We met a most interesting lady while tracting today--Dorothy Sinclair. The first clue to what awaited us inside her house were the three totem poles in her front yard, the most prominent a HUGE seahorse. She invited us right in to talk--something was definitely fishy. Turns out she wanted to talk to US. She told us about how many lives she's had, about the UFOs she's seen, and the extraterrestrials she's met. They get planted here, you see. Outlaws from other planets, sometimes. There is another Earth behind the sun in our Earth's orbit (so we can't see it, of course), peopled by Neanderthals--she was once there during an out-of-body experience. She spent 600 years on Venus during one of her lives--did you know there is no monetary system on Venus? In another life she was a Pygmy in Africa, a male one. One day while she (he?) was off hunting bears (yes, bears in Africa) to eat, she keeled over dead. She read our auras--mine was blue with a little pink around the hands and yellow around the head and silver around it all. There was no star, which means I am not on any kind of spiritual quest on the earth, but I did have a lot of question marks, which meant I wasn't believing all she was saying. No, REALLY!"

One of the best days EVER! Kids, grow up and serve missions! You'll never be the same. Dorothy Sinclair, wherever you are (Jupiter? Hunting muskrats with fellow Inuits?) , I salute you!