The Sandbox

The final installation of the Bionic Man's work of playscape art was completed earlier this summer.  The long-awaited sandbox is now part of the children's play area.

This is no ordinary sandbox.  For starters, it is part of the Bionic Man's playscape design.  Remember the playscape?

Girls' Bedroom Switcheroo

Last week, my girls and I worked really hard to get their bedroom cleaned, organized, rearranged, and de-cluttered.  It was a really, really big job.

Letters of Apology

Here in our little bit of Holland, we have good days, and we have bad days.  We have happy days, and we have sad days.  We have delightful days, and days that are downright trying.  In short, we're just like everyone else.

And, just like everyone else, I think my kids are pretty darn perfect.  Except when they're not.  Believe it or not, there are times when these children of mine get themselves into hot water.

Take the other day.  We were on our way home from church.  I wasn't feeling well.  The Bionic Man was really tired.  The two children in the backseat, on the other hand, were alive and well and telling the world just how good life was with some screechy singing.  Intentionally screechy singing.  The Bionic Man asked them nicely to please stop singing like that, because it was giving him a headache.  The screeching stopped briefly, only to begin again.  I reminded them of their father's request, and of our rule about not making sounds in the car that hurt people's ears.  It wasn't long before the screeching started up again.  The Bionic Man again told the children to tone it down.  And--once again, after a brief respite--we soon heard screeching from the back seat.

Sliding Home

I may have mentioned before that Bionic Man is extremely creative.  He comes up with some pretty wild ideas, some of which I won't mention.  (Like how he'd love to install clear tubes along the ceiling and fill them with water and tropical fish.  If only I would let him....)   Most of those wild ideas turn into amazing finished products, once Bionic Man gets to turn his ideas into reality, like our gazebo playscape.

Even before we were married, Bionic Man shared his dream with me of having a slide inside our future home.  We're not talking a Little Tykes mini slide, we're talking a slide.  And you know what?  I kinda dug that idea.  Unfortunately, we just haven't ever lived in a home where a slide was architecturally feasible.  It seemed like something we'd have to design ourselves.

Recently, a friend showed me pictures of a home in Japan, with a slide as the central design feature.  I loved it!

Curated

Trust me, you'll want to see the other pictures of this home.  

Those pictures got me wondering about other homes with slides, so I went looking and found these:

And About Happily Ever After

The other day, I wrote about choosing to spend time with my husband (here). I wrote about learning to appreciate the extra time I have on my hands right now, that I can choose to spend on our relationship. I ended that post very quickly, with thoughts yet to record , when my phone rang and the day carried on.

Later, as I read the comments, one made me stop and go back to the thoughts left unsaid:

I am neck-deep in mothering young children, and it's sometimes so overwhelming. I am that mother loading groceries and babies into the car, all the while trying to corral the toddler from running into the parking lot and oncoming traffic. And Oh No - the cart is rolling away and into that nice new car parked beside us...Whew!

When I wrote yesterday's post, I wanted to find a picture of Carl and Ellie of Pixar's Up sitting in their chairs. All I could find on short notice, was this one, showing them moving into their fixer-upper and arranging their chairs:

While it wasn't my first choice at the time, the picture I found is the perfect representation of what was on my mind while I was writing. The image I originally wanted to insert was just a small part of the whole story. And in the rest of the story, there is a lot of effort and many choices and not a little sacrifice. Marriage, even at its best, requires a lot of work. A lot of time. A lot of charity.

That comment made me think back to my days as a mother of very young children. How did I divide the little pieces of myself among so many needs?  How did I balance the needs of husband and children and myself?

About Ever After

{Contented Sigh.}

Well, it's just Hunter the Dog and I here at home today.  Just got the last two family members out the door for the day.  In fact, those same two were the ones lolling on the couches yesterday, looking pitiful.  Today, they left the house with bounce in their steps and PB&J in their lunch bags.  Bionic Man looks practically unscathed, unless you take a really good look at the back of his scalp and see the bump and the small cut.  And I was able to get every last drop of blood off the vintage Pottery Barn bedding that cushioned Bionic Man's landing after he conked his head on the bunkbed, thank you very much.

About that.....(Bionic Man's injury, not the vintage Pottery Barn or the bunkbed).....it gave me much cause for reflection.

Storytime

Once upon a time, there was a woman who was trying to clean up after dinner, help a child with homework, console another child who was very tired, listen to another child practice the violin, feed the dog, and talk to her sister on the telephone.  All at the same time.

You know, a typical weekday evening for any woman named Mom.

In the midst of all of these other normal, noisy activities, the woman heard her husband calling to her from the second story of their home.  He sounded upset.

The woman rolled her eyes and told her sister she'd have to call her back.  The husband must have run out of washcloths, misplaced his cell phone, found a hole in his favorite t-shirt, or something.

The woman climbed up the stairs, to discover her husband was covered with blood.  An actual emergency!

Shhhh.....

Happy Valentine's Day!

I'm back!  And since the Bionic Man doesn't read the old blog on a frequent basis, I can tell you that I'm headed off to surprise him for Valentine's Day.  I haven't quite figured out what the surprise is, yet....but I'm thinking part of it will be 13 large balloons in his very small commuter car.  Good times!  

Since she's home from school today, Superkid will be my special assistant.  My special assitant and I will also be heading to the doctor and the lab and hopefully not to the hospital, but that is another story.

Project Time, Part 1

At our house, we've been working on a few projects.  (And by "we" I mean Bionic Man.)  The one I'm showing you today is almost complete.  So, I don't have an "after" shot for you, yet, but I do have a before and a during.  The change is so nice that I couldn't wait.

Here's the before:

What you need to look at is the funky shelf, up high above the dresser.  We have a vaulted ceiling in this room, and I guess that shelf was the builder's idea of "architectural interest."  Huh.  It took me years to stick stuff up there.  The thought of getting up on a ladder to dust.....{shudder}.  Finally, Bionic Man promised me he'd do the dusting, and we threw a few things up there.  But still, it's just kind of blah, and I never could quite figure out why.

The Ninth Day of Christmas

Today's embarrassing moment wasn't embarrassing when it happened.  Only in retrospect.  When I look at the pictures.  Which I'm about to show you.

Remember how the Bionic Man and I recently celebrated an anniversary?  I found some old wedding pictures that the Bionic Man scanned into our files, and they sent me on a trip down memory lane.

Photogenic

The story of how these pictures came to be begins before our wedding.  The Bionic Man's sister, Kristine, got married a few weeks before we did.  Now a professional photographer, Kris was a photography student back when she got married.  She had all her wedding photography done by a photographer that she chose very carefully.  The images that he produced were everything Kristine and her mother dreamed of.  The portraits of Kristine and her groom were so breathtaking, that her mother had visions of creating a "wedding wall" in her home, where she planned to hang gorgeous, matching, professional portraits of her six children on their wedding days.

There was only one problem with that dream:  the Bionic Man and I had not planned to hire a professional photographer for our wedding.

We were budget-minded do-it-yourselfers even before we got married, and we just weren't planning to spend much money on photography for the wedding.  We figured we'd just have a few friends and family members snap pictures throughout the day, get duplicates of the prints, and call it good!

But snapshots were not part of The Wedding Wall vision.  Not only was my future-mother-in-law planning on something professional, she was planning for a portrait done by the same photographer who did Kristine's wedding.  The photographer who would charge extra for traveling the 80+ miles from his studio to our wedding location.

So we compromised.  The Bionic Man and I agreed to put the tux and dress back on after we came back from our honeymoon, and have the professional photo shoot that my mother-in-law wanted.

On the appointed day, the Bionic Man and I showed up at the designated location, a beautiful, old building in downtown Salt Lake City, popular with wedding photographers.  We made my sister and her husband come along, so that my sister could help me get into the rather complicated wedding dress once we arrived.  Poor Lorene and David did not know what they were getting into.

The photo shoot went well.  The photographer knew exactly where he wanted us to pose for the portraits, and quickly went through various poses.  All in the same spot of the building.  Unfortunately, the Bionic Man had envisioned a little more variety than that.  It was a large building, with many points of architectural interest.  The Bionic Man was less concerned about consistency in light and composition than he was about variety and fitting several Feats of Engineering into the background of our portraits.  He was able to convince the photographer to take a couple of pictures of me next to a piano (my mother's only request from the session), but after that, the photographer made it very clear that he was not going to follow us all over the building snapping photos.  He was done.

But the Bionic Man and I weren't!  We were going to get all the mileage out of that white tux and nine foot veil that we possibly could!  So, after the photographer left, we dragged David and Lorene all over for our own, personal photo shoot.  (You didn't have anything better to do that day, did you, David and Lorene?)  David manned the camera, and the Bionic Man and I picked all the backgrounds.  The results are nothing short of hilarious.

It was a productive day, photographically.  We got a portrait for The Wedding Wall out of it, a couple of pictures to hang on our own wall that depict us in all our wedded glory, and then we got a stack of dark, grainy prints that depict us as we really were that day: imperfect, goofy, and more than a little in love.  Enjoy!

The Newsletter

I was quite proud of this year's Christmas card.  Updated picture, nice scenery in the background, fun design, no Disney characters--a great improvement over last year.  Since it is one of the few times in any given year that I get to put my English degree to good use, I have a big thing about our newsletter.  I spend more time on the dang newsletter than I spend shopping for all of our Christmas gifts combined.  It is a sickness.

Naturally, I feel compelled to share this year's literary accomplishment on my blog.  Partly because I just found a stack of Christmas cards and newsletters that inexplicably did not make it out to the mail.  Here's hoping you got yours....and if you didn't.....well, here's the electronic version.

Best and Worst of 2010

Holland's Family Edition

Best Family Vacation Moments: night fishing off the houseboat with cousins, climbing Mt. Timpanogas, hiking in Logan Canyon with cousins, learning how much our dog loves to travel, discovering St. Louis's City Museum, laughing our heads off at Pickleville Playhouse, building sandcastles at Bear Lake.

Worst Family Vacation Moments: realizing the houseboat was built by Hobbits, discovering the climb to Mt. Timpanogas was a bit more treacherous than Dad remembered, losing Endeavor's shoes at Snowbird, watching tornadoes touch down as our minivan was pelted with hailstones, searching for the cap gun Justone wanted all over the western U.S. then finding it at our local Cracker Barrel.

Best Purchase: Bionic Man picked up a battery operated lawn mower to tide us over when our 36” lawnmower needed repairs. Turns out, the new mower is light enough that Justone and Endeavor can use it, and they became our summertime lawn care specialists. (Funny, Bionic Man hasn't felt much pressure to get the old mower up and running again.)

Worst Purchase: the harmonica Justone bought when he was supposed to be Christmas shopping for his sisters. Enough said.

Best Adjustment: Endeavor, Justone, and Superkid all went to different schools this year. Endeavor is a 6^th grader in middle school (yes, you read that right), Justone goes to an accelerated learning program at another school, and Superkid is in first grade at our new local elementary school. Despite all the changes, they have enjoyed their new surroundings, made new friends, and are doing well in school.

Worst Adjustment: Ruth's not quite ready to have the children at school all day, every day. She never knew grocery shopping could be so quick....or so boring.

Best Surprise: Superkid's cardiologist said her “ticker” was working so well, she didn't need to see him again for a whole year!
Worst Surprise: Ruth told the hairstylist she wanted to go “back to her root color” and came home with startlingly dark hair. Much, much darker than she ever remembered having.....after the initial shock wore off, the rest of the family decided they would love her anyway.
Best Days of the Year: Sundays when Dad didn't have meetings.

Worst Day of the Year: Fall Daylight Savings. Ruth changed the clocks before going to bed. Bionic Man got up in the morning, and thought the clocks were still an hour ahead. He was an hour late to his first meeting!

Best Performance(s): Endeavor ran cross-country for her middle school team this year, improving her personal record by more than 6 minutes! Bionic Man set a new personal record at the Indianapolis Half Marathon. Superkid won a huge prize package for perfected attendance in the month of May (the only month she didn't miss any school, ironically). Justone used things he found around the house to make an animated diorama for a school report, all by himself.

Worst Performance: after a summer spent safely hiking in “real “ mountains, Ruth slipped and sprained her elbow while walking with the children along a stream bed....in our neighborhood.

Best New Skills: Superkid learned to read, Endeavor is learning to play the violin, Bionic Man is taking guitar lessons, Justone knows how to fix the van door when it gets stuck (a skill Mom really appreciates), Ruth taught herself how to make slipcovers, and Hunter the Dog can roll over on command!

Worst New Skill: see “Worst Purchase”.

Best: having family members and friends all over the country who mean so much to us! We are blessed to have many wonderful people who show us love and set good examples for us in the way they live.

Worst: wishing that time and distance wouldn't prevent us from spending more time with those we love.

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to all of You!

Love from Ruth, The Bionic Man, Endeavor (11), Justone (10 very soon), and Superkid (7)

The Sixth Day of Christmas

Happy Anniversary, to the Bionic Man and I!  As of 1 P.M. today, we've been married for 13 years.  Good for us!

Today's sharing of an embarrassing moment, like yesterday's, will commemorate the fact that 13 years ago, I became a wife.

The New Mr. and Mrs. Bionic Man

The Providence Inn, Providence, Utah

The Bionic Man and I were each in our last year of college when we got married.  Naturally, we enjoyed running into each other on campus while we were dating and engaged.  When possible, we tried to take classes together.  This was difficult--if not impossible--since he was majoring in Engineering and I was majoring in English.  But true love always finds a way....we signed up for a religion class together the semester before our wedding.

Our religion instructor, Brother Clark, took great delight in the fact that several of his students were engaged to be married.  He seemed to enjoy teasing the Bionic Man and I, and one other couple, about our upcoming nuptials.  The semester ended, and I didn't give Brother Clark a second thought, because I was too busy thinking about getting married to think about silly Brother Clark.

Until the morning after my wedding day.

Amazingly, the Bionic Man had been able to avoid all of the typical wedding moments that might cause a few blushes.  We had a gingerbread temple instead of a cake, so there was no cake smashing.  I thought the whole garter business was useless and degrading, so I didn't even put one on, effectively avoiding that humiliating display of....whatever.  (I still think it is an idiotic tradition, can you tell?)  And the Bionic Man was clever enough to hide our getaway vehicle really well, so aside from a little silly string, we had nothing to make us blush with that, either.  Off we went to our suite at a local bed and breakfast, to spend the night before we left to honeymoon in a warmer climate.

Since we had to leave the honeymoon suite early, to get to our next destination, we decided to forego breakfast in bed and went down to the dining room.

And who--who?--who would be the first person I saw upon exiting the bridal suite?

Brother Clark, that's who.

Apparently, he and his wife had just spent the night at the very same bed and breakfast.  And what did he do when he saw the Bionic Man enter the dining room, hand-in-hand?

He stood up, and said in his big, hearty voice, "Well, if it isn't Bionic Man and Ruth!  Aren't you two supposed to be getting married sometime soon?"  He winked at the other diners as he grinned at us.

"Yesterday," the Bionic Man mumbled nervously,  "We got married yesterday."

"What's that?"  Brother Clark asked jovially, putting a hand to his ear.  "Did you say you got married JUST YESTERDAY?"

Every eye in the room was on us now, and the room was full of quiet laughter as we blushed furiously under the scrutiny.

"My goodness!"  Brother Clark exclaimed, grinning wickedly.  "That must mean you are on your honeymoon!"  He pulled out a chair from his table, offering it with a sweeping gesture.  "Please, join us for breakfast!  I'm sure you're hungry."  More winking.

"Um, no thanks!" The Bionic Man quickly replied.  "We'll just sit over here!"  (In the far corner of the room.)

Happy Anniversary, Bionic Man!  It still seems like JUST YESTERDAY.

Like this?  You can find the other embarrassingly funny days of my Christmas here:

First Day

Second Day

Third Day

Fourth Day

Fifth Day

I'm linking up this post to The Idea Room.

The Fifth Day of Christmas

Big news:  tomorrow will mark the 13th anniversary of the day the Bionic Man and I were married!  How about that?  So, in keeping with my promise to share 12 Days of Embarrassing Moments, it seems only fitting that I should share one from my wedding day, right?

Don't worry, this is a family friendly blog!  This embarrassing moment happened before the ceremony.

Child Bride

I admit, I was a fairly young bride.  I was just three-and-a-half months shy of my 22nd birthday when the Bionic Man and I got married.  In other words, I was 21.

The morning of my wedding day, I went to the neighborhood beauty salon to have my hair styled by Cindy, who had been cutting my hair since I was a little tyke.  Cindy put my hair in rollers and sent me to sit under the hair dryer for a while, as she put curlers in another lady's hair and gave that lady's husband a haircut.  The lady was under the dryer herself, and her husband had plopped down to wait in a nearby chair with the Reader's Digest when Cindy began styling my hair into a wedding-worthy updo.

As the elaborate hairstyle took shape, the older gentleman put down his Reader's Digest and watched Cindy work for a few moments.  Then he smiled congenially and asked, "Well, what are you gettin' all gussied up for, little lady?"

"Ruthie is getting married, today," Cindy answered for me.

"Married!" the man hooted, slapping his Reader's Digest against his knee.  "Married?  Why, you can't be more'n twelve years old!"

I blushed furiously while Cindy reassured her customer that I was old enough to get married.  I was horrified to think that I'd been mistaken for a pre-teen on my wedding day.

Looking back, though, can you blame the guy?  It's just a good thing he didn't have a chance to see my fifteen-year-old groom.

Home on the Range

The Bionic Man did a very nice, award-winning husband type of thing right before Thanksgiving.  Two words:

New Stove

Yep, the Bionic Man suggested that we get the stove we've been meaning to get BEFORE I cooked Thanksgiving dinner.  Before I tell you the story of how this came to be, allow me to introduce you to my new friend, Julia.  (Her namesake?  Julia Child, of course!)

Just for the purpose of comparison, let's view a picture of the old stove (nameless, I only name things I like) and bid it a polite farewell:

Technically, there was really nothing wrong with the old stove.  It just never performed like the stove I had in our Connecticut Cottage.  It also didn't match the rest of the appliances in the kitchen.  (Note the white microwave.)  When we moved into our current home, literally every appliance was a different color: white, bisque, black, and stainless steel, to be exact.  The Bionic Man, bless his heart, can't stand inconsistency.  So, along with replacing all the household doorknobs and light fixtures so that they would all be the same type of metallic finish (oil rubbed bronze), he planned to replace the kitchen appliances, too.  Appliances cost more than doorknobs, so we replaced them as they wore out or when we had money saved up.  Appliances do not, unfortuanately, come in oil rubbed bronze (at least, not in our price range), so we have gradually replaced the old kitchen appliances with new, white appliances.  After five years, this stove was all that was left.

We started stove shopping last spring, when we had to replace the broken microwave.  I didn't have a clear direction, other than it had to be white (of course), it had to have a glass top (I don't do coils), and I thought it would be super fun to have two ovens.  

After shopping at our favorite bargain appliance source, the Sears Scratch 'n Dent, I discovered that even scratched and dented glass top stoves with two ovens were going for over $1000.  Then, I had to think to myself, "How often do I need two ovens?"  My answer was, "Maybe twice in the five years since I've lived in this house.  And even then, I found a way around it."  So, the list of requirements was shortened to two requirements: white, glass top.

We had a busy summer, and I really don't bake very much in the summer, anyway, so we kind of forgot about the stove.  Every so often, the Bionic Man or I would take a look at Craigslist, looking for white glass topped stoves.  You see, the microwave and stove we had in our Connecticut Cottage were used.  We found them in the for sale ads of the local paper.  (Connecticut friends, can I hear an AMEN for The Reminder?)  Someone was getting rid of them to make way for a kitchen remodel.  I swear, that sweet convection-capable oven had never even been used, and we got the set for $225.  A steal.  

Well, I'm not sure if he was trying to reward me for the fantastic kitchen transformation I made with the new paint, or if it was the paint fumes themselves, but the Bionic Man woke up three days before Thanksgiving and decided that his wife should have a new stove for Thanksgiving.  He immediately began to go through Craigslist with fine-tooth comb, and called me from work to let me know he was taking me stove shopping that very evening.  

What the Bionic Man had discovered, on Craigslist, was that there was a little mom & pop shop downtown that sold remanufactured appliances.  The word remanufactured doesn't scare me.  My kitchenaid mixer, that I love dearly (his name is Mike) was remanufactured.  I'm down with that.  So, off I went with the Bionic Man to bring home a new (to us) stove for Thanksgiving.  

At first, we had some difficulty finding the address as it was listed on Craigslist.  It wasn't in a part of the city that we were familiar with.  In fact, it was what you might call The Wrong Side of Town.  The very wrong side.  But we didn't let that stop us, if a deal could be found!  After driving around a little, getting a feel for the local flavor, we saw a fading sign that said, "Appliances  Furniture  Mattresses  Water Heaters".  Thinking that must be our destination, we parked the Sienna and marched in.  Inside, we were greeted by a guy who never mentioned his name, but I'm guessing goes by "Meaty."  Meaty grunted when we asked about glass top stoves, and told us they'd all been sold earlier in the day, but he had plenty of stereos, if we were interested in those.  

Uh huh.  We hustled back out to the Sienna.  At this point, I should probably mention that the Bionic Man's father, Duane, had accompanied us on this little adventure.  Welcome to Indiana, Duane!  I'm sure that by this point, he was thinking that his son and daughter-in-law were out of their minds, and who would raise their children?  We drove down the street a little further, with the Bionic Man wondering why they didn't tell him the stove was already gone when he'd called.  Duane asked casually, "Are you sure we went to the right address?"

I replied, "C'mon, how many of these little remanufactured appliance shops can there be around here?"

Apparently, more than the one, because just down the street we saw a sign:  Lady J's Appliance.  Words can't do Lady J's justice.  You have to see a picture.  Not knowing that this adventure was going to be blog-worthy, I hadn't brought my camera with me, so Google Satellite is going to have to do the honors.  (In hindsight, it was probably a blessing I hadn't brought the camera.  I'm not sure if Lady J would have taken kindly to me asking her to pose in front of her store.)  

View Larger Map

When I say the Bionic Man and I will do almost anything to get a good deal, I'm not kidding, am I?  We actually got out of the Sienna and went inside Lady J's, in search of a white glass top stove.  Lady J herself, cigarette dangling from her wrinkled, red lips informed us that "uh, yeah, the glass top sold earlier today."  But she did have some real nice stereos, if we were interested in those.  

There was a door off to the side of Lady J's fine establishment with writing on it.  This is exactly what was written, in black permanent marker:

"REST ROOM"

pLEasE kNOCk FirST

Just for future reference, I think it is good practice to be cautious of doors marked this way.  Especially considering the use of quotation marks.  "REST ROOM" as in: it may or may not be a restroom?  this is what we call our restroom, but it has no toilet or sink, only a drain?  this could be a restroom or it could be the entrance to our meth lab?  

Needless to say, I didn't investigate the quoted claims any further, nor did we purchase anything from Lady J's.  The Bionic Man said, after we were safely several blocks away, "I don't think I could bring anything home from that place without sending it away for complete fumigation, first.  How do we know those stoves weren't being used in a meth lab?"  (Or, for that matter, a "Rest Room".)  He considered these possibilities for a moment, with a shudder, then turned to me and said, "How about we go take a look at the Sears Scratch 'n Dent store?"

That was where I met Julia.  White, glass top, five burners, and fully equipped for traditional or convectional baking/roasting, she's even more than I was hoping for.  Admittedly, her price wasn't quite as low as Lady J's remanufactured "stoves", but she was still a bargain with no visible flaws and a price 60% off of retail.  We packed her up, brought her home, plugged her in, and she proceded to bake some of the best pies in the history of my kitchen, not too mention the rolls, ham, and pumpkin bread pudding.

The moral of my story:  it never hurts to shop around for a bargain, but you gotta know when to hold 'em and know when to fold 'em, if  you know what I mean.  

And a question:  do you think that the Bionic Man took me to Meaty's and Lady J's first on purpose, and only pretended that the trip to the Scratch 'n Dent store was a spur of the moment idea?  I'm beginning to wonder.....I really am.

P.S.  If anyone in the midwest is looking for a black and bisque glass top range in fairly good condition for under $200, email me: triptoholland (at) gmail (dot) com.

What I Did on My Summer Vacation, Part 1

Like I said the other day, it sure doesn't feel very much like fall around these parts.  For the next couple days, I'm going to be posting some of my favorite pictures from our travels in the West, this summer.  (Mostly for the benefit of our relatives who are in the pictures!)

It has become a tradition for the Bionic Man and I to drive across the country each summer to spend time with our extended families.  Both of us grew up in Utah, and that is where the majority of our family members still live.  Our strategy is to drive out and back together, but the Bionic Man flies home to work for a couple of weeks while I stay behind to chaperone our children as they get spoiled by grandparents and play with their cousins.  (It's such a sacrifice for me, wink wink.)

While the Bionic Man is with us, we try to spend as much time in the mountains as possible.  After the drive across Wyoming, we spent some time in Idaho at our first family reunion.  We did some hiking there to get used to the altitude before going on the really big hike we had planned.

This shot of Justone, the Bionic Man, and his Bionic Father hiking together is one of my very favorites from the entire trip.

In our quest to gain altitude, we spent another day playing and hiking in the mountains near Snowbird, Utah.  We cheated by riding a tram most of the way to the top.

The day after we hit the not-so-snowy-slopes of Snowbird, we went on the hike that was the really big deal on this year's trip.  The Bionic Man had been planning this for months.  We climbed Mt. Timpanogos above American Fork, Utah.  Hiking Timp was one of the Bionic Man's favorite things to do when he was growing up.  We decided to leave Superkid safely behind with Grandmother for the day, but the Bionic Man was confident that Justone and Endeavor could make it.

We were joined in our ascent by the Bionic Father and Uncle Lance (who happens to be a seasoned mountaineer.)  Our friends The Hendys, who now live in Las Vegas, Nevada, joined us for the first mile or so and then wished us bon voyage.  They were so smart.

It was a lovely day for a hike.  For the first little while, I had a great time chatting and catching up with Heidi and Mike (center, in the green shirts)

and enjoying the interesting terrain.  We paused for a break at this waterfall, and the Hendys wished us well on the rest of our journey. 

 And then the real hiking began.  Oh. my. heck.  I cannot tell you how much I wanted to quit and go back within the first hour after that waterfall!

I could not for the life of me imagine how we were supposed to get up and OVER that cliff ahead of us.  And that wasn't even the top of Timp!  See what looks to be sheer cliffs ahead of us on that trail?  They are sheer cliffs!  Um, there were little skinny trails criss-crossing those cliffs that I had to climb up.  That my children had to climb up!  The Bionic Man mentioned that he hadn't realized how treacherous of an ascent it was the last time he climbed....when he wasn't a father.  Really?!?!  It should not surprise you that Endeavor and Justone were the youngest hikers on the trail, that day.

Justone!  Step away from the edge of that cliff!  Are you trying to give your poor mother a stroke?

I huffed and puffed and regretted every single crumb of junk food I have ever had to eat in my entire life.  But the scenery alone was worth every painful step.

I was so proud of Justone and Endeavor.  Justone was determined to be the first one to the top, and he hiked hard and without complaint.  I can't say Endeavor hiked without complaint, but she was a trooper to keep going and do something that she hadn't been too excited about to begin with.  She and I provided a lot of entertainment and encouragement for each other.

Wait--stop right there.  Could someone please, please try to explain to me why my hair looks that good after sweating my way up a dusty trail all morning?  Better yet, explain to me why no amount of primping, curling, and hairspray can make my hair look that shiny and voluminous before a)church b)family portraits and c)dinners with the Bionic Man's work colleagues.  It's like a Pantene commercial, right there on the trail.  I said the trail.  Where I can't get cell phone service, I'm covered in dust and sweat and sunscreen, yet I can have my best hair day ever.  I officially give up.

After about five hours of steep, upward climbing, we reached this valley

which had a beautiful lake in the middle of it.  Somehow I missed getting any pictures of Emerald Lake, so I'm borrowing a picture of it from flickriver.com so you can see.  I think I was just too tired to hold up the camera, at that point.

Sitting down for lunch by this icy, icy cold lake, our experienced guides pointed out the summit to Justone, Endeavor, and I. 

I announced that I felt incredibly fulfilled by my day on the mountain and also that I wanted to live to see my next birthday.  Endeavor and Justone felt the same way, THANK GOODNESS!  We made a pact to reach the summit next year or maybe even the year after that, and sent the Bionic Men on their way with our blessing.  (That would be my husband, his father, and his father's brother.  Truly bionic men, all of them.)

The children and I hiked down on our own.  Going downhill wasn't any easier than going uphill.  And it was scarier.  There were a few times when I wanted to click my ruby slippers and become one of these:

Yes, those are really mountain goats, which we really saw.

Thankfully, the children and I made it down safely.  And it was good that we let the Bionic Menfolk get to the summit....because on their way down, another hiker slipped and fell off the trail a few yards ahead of them, sliding thirty feet down to the edge of a dangerous cliff.  Uncle Lance had a rope and other special equipment, knew how to use them, and directed a rescue, assisted by the Bionic Man and his Bionic Father.  They were able to provide first aid treatment and get the hiker and her group safely down the mountain.  I still get chills when I think, "What if I had wimped out completely and made them climb down with the children and I?"  If even one of them had come with us, a life would have been lost that day on Mt. Timpanogos.  I'm also incredibly grateful that Endeavor, Justone, and I made it down without event.

Told you they were bionic.

If you would like to hike Mt. Timpanogos, don't let my scary story stop you.  Take an experienced mountaineer with you, wear sunscreen, carry LOTS of water, get yourself in shape well beforehand, be prepared, and learn more about it here or here.  I'll see you at the top next year!

Written in Stone

I will be the first to admit that Sunday is often a hard day for me.  Don't get me wrong--that doesn't equate with Sunday being a bad day.  Despite everything, I usually enjoy the lessons and testimonies I hear at church, I love singing all the hymns, and I almost always walk out the door of the church feeling spiritually fortified.

It's just that I walk out that door and get into a van with three hungry, cranky children who are tired of wearing fancy clothes and need to get out all the loud laughter and uncouth behavior they suppressed during church, knowing that I have to go home and cook up a Sunday dinner and dreading the dishes that dinner will leave behind.

And don't even get me started on what getting to church is like.

Oh, my goodness.  All I need to say is "My husband is in the bishopric," and I'm sure any Mormon woman reading this will shake her head sympathetically and say a prayer for me.  Those of you who are not Mormons may need a more detailed explanation:  Mormon congregations are headed by a bishop, who plays a role comparable to that of a pastor in other churches.  The bishop has two assistants, called counselors.  The bishop and his counselors are referred to as a bishopric by the members of the congregation.  All leadership in our church is done on a lay basis--meaning no one gets paid--we all have other jobs to support our families, but do our church jobs on a purely voluntary basis.

So, when I say that my Bionic Man is in a bishopric, that means that he is away from home most of Sunday, participating in meetings, assisting the bishop, helping to maintain financial records, and giving service to the members of our congregation.  He also sits near the pulpit....while the children and I sit in the congregation.

Now, I know that the Bionic Man won't always be in the bishopric.  Mormons take turns filling all the various positions that keep our congregations running.  And I am grateful that he wasn't in the bishopric when our children were little.  I really shouldn't complain.  I'd just like someone to explain to me why it is so simple to get three children ready and out the door to the bus stop all by myself during the week, and sooooo difficult to get the same three children ready and out the door to church on Sunday.  But it is.

Last Sunday was really a doozy.  I'd been asked to substitute in one of the children's classes, so I was preparing a lesson.  No one could find their shoes.  The dog kept barking.  There were a few fights.  The Bionic Man made waffles for us before he left for the church, but he left quite a bit of batter and some dishes behind.  The house that had been clean on Saturday morning was trashed.  I was tired before I even got out of bed.  We were almost late for church.  Superkid wiggled up, down, and all over our bench for the first 20 minutes, then fell asleep.  Justone and Endeavor, normally well-mannered in public, could not stop pestering and bothering each other during the congregational meeting.  By the time I arrived home with the children, they weren't the only ones who were tired and grouchy and hungry.  So was I.

I proceeded to cook an impressive meal of broccoli, salad, sweet potato fries, and coconut almondine chicken with orange sauce.  The Bionic Man came home just a few minutes before dinner was ready and disappeared.  I asked the children nine times (eight nicely, the ninth in an "elevated" tone) to set the table.  It was set, but without key utensils.  The food was almost ready, so I called out through gritted teeth, "Dinner's ready!"

No response.  The children continued jumping from couch to couch as if I'd never spoken.

I tried again.  "Dinner is ready, now, come sit down at the table."

No response. 

I called for the Bionic Man.  Loudly.  I had no idea where he was.  One of the children though he'd gone upstairs.  I told Superkid to go find her daddy and tell him dinner was ready.  She wandered away toward the staircase.

I checked the steaming broccoli, which was done, and covered the chicken.  I waited.  Superkid skipped back through the kitchen.  "Is Daddy coming?" I asked.

Superkid looked surprised.  "I don't know," she responded.

"Did you tell him it was time to eat?" I questioned her.

"Ummmm...." Superkid thought about this, deeply, before she replied.  "I think I forgot."

"Go sit down at the table," I commanded the children, who were by now chasing the dog around the couches.  Then I called LOUDLY up the stairs to my husband, telling him dinner was ready RIGHT NOW.

I returned to the kitchen.  The children were still chasing the dog.  The coconut almondine chicken was getting colder every minute.  There seemed to be two choices:  I could get really mad....or I could eat dinner.

I ate dinner.

I filled my plate, prayed over it, and took a bite of chicken.  The children were oblivious.  My husband was nowhere to be found.  The broccoli was nice and tender, not overdone and mushy.  The only member of the family that paid any attention to the solitary diner was Hunter the Dog, who had taken his place under the table.  I shared some of my sweet potato fries with him.

Despite chewing very deliberately, I soon finished my Sunday dinner.  I cleared the table and began boxing up the leftovers.  There were a lot of leftovers.  Without the dog to chase, the children were hiding behind the couches and throwing sock balls at each other.  No sign yet of the Bionic Man.

I was just putting the broccoli into the fridge when the Bionic Man walked into the kitchen, hair tousled and sheet wrinkles pressed into his face.   "Hi, Daddy!" Superkid greeted him, while simultaneously Justone announced, "I'm hungry.  When's dinner?"

The Bionic Man rubbed his eyes.  "Did I just dream that you called me down for dinner, or did that really happen?" he wondered.

"Dinner," I replied acridly, "was served to those who wanted it thirty minutes ago.  It is now over."  And on that note, I put Hunter the Dog on his leash and we went for a long walk. 

We walked and walked.  I steamed and stewed for the first half hour.  For the second half hour, I thought about how I might have handled the situation differently.  Finally, I turned towards home and started giggling about it.  Having everyone ignore dinner was a somewhat funny first. 

I walked in the door and found a very different household than the one I'd left.  All the pillows and blankets and stuffed animals had been removed from the floor.  Superkid was busy shining windows.  Justone was sweeping the floor.  Endeavor was putting away the last of the dishes, and the Bionic Man was scouring the sink.

There was a hand-picked vase of garden flowers on the table, alongside a simple apology written on a chalkboard rock.

I could tell they meant it.  I gave them all hugs and told them how beautiful the kitchen looked.  I said I was glad I was their mom and wife.  They could tell I meant it.

The rest of the evening was peaceful.  I'm glad I took a time out instead of completely losing it.  I'm also glad the chalkboard rocks are being put to good use.

So, share some wisdom.  What do you do to make Sundays or other family times full of more goodness and less stress?  What is your strategy for the traditional home-cooked Sunday dinner?  What do you do to keep your cool when it seems like no one is listening to you?

And, in exchange for your wisdom, I'll share a little blogging tip:
I didn't write this post today, even though it posted today.  I wrote it earlier in the week, and used Blogger's post options to schedule a time for it to be published later.  This is a great feature, especially if you tend to blog in spurts.  Blogger will actually let you create posts and schedule a time for them to be automatically published.  Before you hit the Publish Post button, click just above that where it says Post Options.  A menu bar will appear.  Drag your curser to the right and check the box marked Scheduled At.  This, in turn, will drop a menu box down, giving you the option to name the date and time you wish your post to be published.  Once you've set up a time, just hit the orange publish button and forget about it.  It will take care of itself.  Enjoy!

Oh, the Places I've Been!

Remember that Dr. Seuss book that people like to give graduates?

It's full of nuggets of wisdom, like this:

Congratulations!
Today is your day.
You’re off to Great Places!
You’re off and away!

Out there things can happen and frequently do to people as brainy and footsy as you.

And when things start to happen, don’t worry. Don’t stew. Just go right along. 

You’ll start happening too.

Oh! The Places You’ll Go!

As you know, I've been very sentimental this week, due to it being the fifth anniversary of our move to Indiana.  Early this morning, as I loaded the dishwasher and tried to clean up my kitchen--which was a complete disaster due to three batches of homemade bread and a batch of bar cookies, yesterday, and don't even get me started on what happened with my oven--I was thinking deep thoughts.  About Dr. Seuss's words and my own life....and how I ended up in suburban Indiana, instead of a remote sheep ranch in Montana. 

I'm going to share, because I have a blog.

Sometime between the ages of 15 and 20, I came up with a life plan.  It went something like this:

1.  Go to college.  Graduate.  (The course of study and degree were always different, depending on my interests at any given moment, but usually it was something to do with music.  Or theater.  Or musical theater.)

2.  Travel the world.  Learn several languages.  (It was unclear whether I would be doing this as an opera singer, a missionary, or tourist.)

3.  Meet a wealthy rancher who shared my passion for music, theater, adventure, and travel.  Fall in love with him.  Marry him.  (I'm totally not kidding.  A rancher.  Where did this come from?  One childhood trip to Montana to visit my brother, who was working on a sheep ranch one summer during college, and quite possibly the very tame Harlequin novels my mother and grandmother loved reading about romance on New Zealand sheep ranches.  There, I admit it.)

4.  Move to the rancher's remote ranch, which was going to be in Montana, Wyoming, Idaho, Colorado, South Dakota, or....New Zealand.

5.  Become a really good cook, because I'd have to feed all the ranch hands.  And get really good at riding horses, because that's what rancher's wives do, right?  Ride a horse all over the ranch to rendezvous with her ruggedly handsome rancher husband......

6.  Have lots of babies, there on the ranch.  Approximately 6-8.  Homeschool all of them, because our ranch would be so remote.  (I had several handy lists of names.  One list was of names that all started with the letter B.  Another list was of names that were inspired by L.M. Montgomery's books; the twins were Matthew and Marilla.)

Have you heard of Ree Drummond, the Pioneer Woman?  Call the police!  I think she stole my life!

I kid, I kid. (But still....it's kind of suspicious, don't you think?)


Well, I got off to a good start with my list.  Thank goodness that the first thing on my list was "Go to college," right?  (And thank goodness my parents never took me to Disney World, because if I'd had any idea I could make money dressing up like Ariel or Tinkerbell, or singing and dancing in the streets, I might not have made it to college.  Whew, that was a close one!)

1.  I went to college.  I started out as a Music Therapy major.  I switched to Vocal Performance.  Then I switched to Musical Theater.  Then I changed my major to Interior Design.  At this point, something dawned on me: roughly 98% of the men I met in those majors were not interested in me.....or any other woman, for that matter.  While the plan was to graduate and see the world before I got married, I still wanted to have a social life.  So I changed majors again.  To instructional technology.  (Whaaaaat?)  That was short-lived.  Then there was a brief stint in elementary education.  By this time, I had spent more than two years in college and gone through six majors.  I decided to finish college as quickly as possible and move on to traveling the world and learning several languages.  So, I majored in English.  

Because writing long essays has never been a problem for me. 


Also because by that time I'd developed a strategy for fulfilling step #2 in my life plan, "Travel the World."  

I was going to become an English teacher and teach for the Department of Defense at overseas military bases.  Which would make it affordable to see the world.  Also, my wise father thought his flighty youngest daughter might be improved by some time as a missionary, so, with his encouragement, I was aiming for that, too.

Did I mention that I attended a university that was known for its agricultural school?  You would think I might have actually met a rancher, there.  Au contraire, my friends, au contraire.  (See?  I learned a little French.  About that much.)


I did meet two nice young men that grew up on a ranch, but they were majoring in business and physical education.  And, they were also the Bionic Man's roommates.


Bringing us--somewhat prematurely--to step number three:


3.  Meet a wealthy rancher an aerospace engineer who shared my passion for adventure and travel (paragliding, anyone?)--and tolerated my passion for music and theater.  Fall in love with him.  (No problem....somehow the lack of a ranch was not not a deterrant.)  Marry him.  I did!  

And, by the way, check out the length of that veil.....

By this time, I'd really got off track from my list.  I attempted to get back on track.


First, I graduated from college.  Part of #1.


1.  Go to college.  Graduate.

I'd like to take this opportunity to assure you that I was not fifteen when I graduated from college.  Despite the photographic evidence otherwise.....I was actually twenty-two. 


Then, I set off to see the world, with my new husband, the Bionic man.  This fulfilled step #2 and part of step #4:

2.  See the world and learn several languages German.

4.  Move to the rancher's remote ranch wherever the aerospace engineer could get a job.  Which ended up being the East Coast and Europe, for a few years.

As you can see, I was off to a good start with #6:

6.  Have lots of babies.  Even though none were born on a remote ranch, I did manage to have three prenatal appointments in Munich, Germany.  Impressive, eh?  And I did have three children in four years.  As I said, a good start!

Um....I'm still working on #5.


5.  Become a really good cook.  At this point, I'm willing to just let the Pioneer Woman handle all that.  Ranch hands on a remote ranch in Montana or Colorado should be very grateful that I fell in love with an aerospace engineer, instead of their boss.  Very grateful, indeed.


Somehow, I really never got past the list of baby names in my life plan.  And four babies to name has been enough.

Some of the places I've been definitely never got listed with my other youthful aspirations.  Because, when a seventeen-year-old girl makes a list of her life plans, she just can't imagine some of the places she'll go nor how she'll get there.  Case in point:  Indiana was not on my list.  Hospitals weren't on my list.  Neither were cemeteries. 

And....there’s a very good chance 

you’ll meet things that scare you right out of your pants. 

There are some, down the road between hither and yon, 

that can scare you so much you won’t want to go on.

But on you will go though the weather be foul. 

On you will go though your enemies prowl. 

On you will go though the Hakken-Kraks howl. 

Onward up many a frightening creek, 

though your arms may get sore and your sneakers may leak. 

On and on you will hike. 

And I know you’ll hike far and face up to your problems whatever they are.

So....where am I, now?  I'm glad, for one thing, that I don't have to cook for ranch hands or homeschool my kids or smell cows all day.  And I'm blessed to be the daughter of a Heavenly Father who knew that I could handle a different variety of experiences than the ones I aspired to as a naive teenager.  I'm grateful that He's sent me to places I never dreamed of, let me learn to love so many wonderful people that I met along the way, and given me so many opportunities to grow and stretch in ways I never imagined. 

And will you succeed?
Yes! You will, indeed!
(98 and ¾ percent guaranteed.)

Kid, you’ll move mountains!
.....you’re off to Great Places!
Today is your day!
Your mountain is waiting.
So…get on your way!

 -Dr. Seuss

For this journey to great heights is not any ordinary journey....And how shall we scale this mountain? One faithful step at a time." - Elaine L. Jack