welcome to my miss-adventures

2012-01-03T21:48:00.000-08:00

You say you want a resolution? Well, you know, we all wanna change... a lot.

But I'm easily overwhelmed so I'm going to stick to just two things this year.

I realize my goals for 2012 are basic, decidedly common and ridiculously cliché.

Oh well.

First...

Oh , gosh, I can barely say it.

I want to...

eat better.

Healthier.

Smarter.

Ugh. I know. Give me a break, right??

Whenever I say I want to eat better I get one of two reactions. I know this because it's something I've said a lot.

Reaction #1: But you don't need to lose weight.

Thank you very much; my doctor agrees with you.

I would love to lose a few pounds, of course; it's eight days after Christmas. But my goal is to eat better.

Reaction #2: Oh good; here's what else you need to do to lose weight.

Thank you very much; I'll take this into consideration when deciding whether or not to dodge you in the aisles of Target.*

Forgive me. I'm going to spell this out.

I.W.A.N.T.T.O.E.A.T.B.E.T.T.E.R.

OK. so new year.

Fewer cupcakes for breakfast. More fresh fruits for snacks.

Fewer Cheeze-its.** More fresh vegetables.

Fewer everyday indulgences. More a-treat-is-a-treat.

More fueling my body wisely for long runs.

But always Diet Coke.***

I'm going to accomplish this by keeping my grocery shopping trips consistent each week. I also want to do a better job planning healthy dinners in advance. Both the inconsistent grocery shopping and the unplanned dinners leave us with not enough fresh options on hand and send us running out for quick fixes a little too often. Also we're eating the same boring food all the time. So boring.

OK, my second goal:

My stake has a goal for every person to read the Book of Mormon in 2012. Meaning Garett and I read it ourselves AND to or with our children. Doable... but a little daunting all the same. And yet... a little exhilarating too. I am excited about this one. I'm excited for my testimony to grow and strengthen. I'm excited to see things I've never seen in the text before. I'm excited to share those things with my children.

That's all I have to say about that one.

(I don't have as many issues with the Book of Mormon as I do with food****.)

So, there you go. I'll let you know how it goes.

What are you resolutionizing this year?

*The answer is yes.

**I love you!

***I'll never leave you.

****One more story about food, issues with food, weight and being Christmas chubby. I saw my doctor last week. I asked him about being, well, just so darn Christmas chubby. How bad is this habit I have of gaining weight every single year? Well, he said (basically) that even with a layer of Christmas fat, I am still at a healthy weight for my height; my cholesterol is good; my blood pressure is good; I'll lose the extra pounds as I train for my next half marathon; gaining weight at Christmas shows him that I had a good holiday and it's actually a sign of having a good quality of life. Dude! I will be using this justification for holiday cookies every year until I kick it.

*****My new thing for 2012: Nouns as verbs. I also like "diatribing". Use it. We could make it a thing.

2011-12-15T00:00:00.000-08:00

This is a video of my kids playing that song from Moonstruck*. Some people insist that it is better known as "Musetta's Waltz" from the opera La bohème but those people probably spend way too much time doing things like visiting museums and reading books and not nearly enough time watching movies starring Cher.

Moonstruck is a film beloved by my family. (The one I grew up with, that is.) We love the dialogue. We love the old man and his dogs. We love Cher's hair and pretty dress. We love wondering if anyone will satisfactorily answer Rose's question. We love love bites that send lives down the toilet and we love adamantly refusing to be a monument to justice.

But Moonstruck is funny to me because it's about two things, I guess. First, it's about that crazy moon. You know, the one that gives you license to do or say the things that you wouldn't do in the glare of the sun (or perhaps the things you shouldn't do at all). And, then, it's about... family.

So, what's the thread here tying these two things together?

No, really.

I'm asking.

I wonder if it's that after all our mistakes, and after the sometimes reckless choices we make in the name of the moon (or passion), our family still loves us and gives us a place to center ourselves?

But, then, on the other hand, in the movie the family starts in the light of the moon. Cosmo is drawn to Rose's window under the full moon because of his great love for her. Loretta and Ronny are also brought together under the same brilliant moon.

I ask you because you have such a head for knowing. You know?

*This was filmed in the weeks leading up to my kids' piano recital where they performed this duet. At the time they were still learning, as can be gleaned from the direction given to them by their instructor.

2011-11-28T10:43:00.001-08:00

Here's to big families. Here's to half a dozen dessert options and trying every one. Here's to using every bed, crashing on every couch and covering every inch of floor space with bodies. Here's to making rubies my favorite jewel. Here's to forgiving and letting things go. Here's to the wisdom and gentle nature of grandfathers. Here's to believing in Jesus Christ. Here's to the special bond of cousins. Here's to wishing the best for each other always. Here's to trying to fit too much in. Here's to taking naps if you can. Here's to round-faced toddlers who have us at their beck and call. Here's to chocolate-covered cinnamon bears and taxidermy. Here's to the romance of a rising generation.

Here's to cold nights and

Christmas lights.

Here's to families.

2011-11-09T19:19:00.000-08:00

Hello there. Justin Beiber would like to welcome you to a blog post about my 40th birthday party. The one that took place two months ago. Justin doesn't understand why it took so long either.

It may help to know that the theme was "Guilty Pleasure Skate Party". Justin falls under the "guilty pleasure" part. The skating part took place here:

I love this place! It's totally old school, which it accomplishes mostly by being totally old. The building and decor cannot be pinned to a specific decade. The architecture is 60s. The textiles are 70s. The colors are 80s. There is absolutely no ventilation to speak of, so plan to sweat.

In addition to the perspiration and the assault on your visual senses, here are some other things you could have planned on...

Expect to have sported roller skates, naturally.

Expect an awesomely bad playlist.

Requests were taken ahead of time, a playlist was compiled. Expect the final product to have blown your guilty-pleasure-loving mind.

Expect to have had a photo op with a giant cut-out of Barry Manilow's head. Upon posting this, I wondered if I should qualify the photo with a "this made more sense at the time"... but even now, two months later, offering my guests the chance to pose with a giant cut-out of Barry Manilow's head makes perfect (and awesome) sense to me.

Expect to have eaten a lot of cupcakes.

Expect to have had the chance to answer some playlist-related trivia questions about me. (Expect to see the winning questionnaire here.)

Expect to have done a little roller-limbo.

Expect to have been missed if you weren't in attendance.

Expect that I'm curious to know what you would added to the playlist?

2011-10-31T21:48:00.000-07:00

Happy Halloween from Alice in Wonderland, a very pink bunny...

and the skinniest (but most endearing?) Wolverine you'll ever hope to not meet in a dark alley. (He makes up in ferocity what he lacks in muscle.)

Hope your evening was as sweet-filled and happy as ours. Happy Halloween!

2011-10-11T21:27:00.000-07:00

I'm going to help out all the people Googling "MacGruber" and "Vicki St. Elmo" for Halloween costumes.

This one's for you:

It probably won't be hard to do it a lot better than we did... But will you have a totally awesome fake bomb to defuse in only 15 seconds made out of a lavender-colored Jonas Brothers alarm clock? I don't think so.

2011-10-04T16:29:00.000-07:00

It's kind of an anniversary right now. Last year, about this time, I was going through a dark and kind of scary time. I had cycled into an episode of depression. I'm always anxious, but these cycles are usually triggered when my level of anxiety becomes overwhelming... and there was a lot going on in my life at that time.

In the subsequent months, as the light started to come back into my life, I felt very strongly that I should use my (stupid) blog to write about my experience. I didn't. You can check.

As you can see, I'm a high-functioning depressive. (I might be like, "See that glass of sludge I have to drink? Half full!)

Also, by way of explanation, depression doesn't usually look on me the way it looks on commercials for Paxil. Maybe that's something I was supposed to tell you last year.

I actually am happy in that photo where I'm dressed up like Vicki St. Elmo. (Even though I'm dressed up like Vicki St. Elmo.)

I'm not faking it there.

But maybe later, when my spirit and body seek rejuvenation at the end of the day I will feel nothing. Except hopeless.

And since the greatest source of hope in my life otherwise is my religion and my relationship with God, depression rather cruelly strikes those places the hardest.

Last year, I could not have felt more hopeless and abandoned by God.

At the same time, I could not have felt more like I was trying to do everything right. I was heavily involved in a couple of large stake projects. I was serving in the Relief Society presidency. I was crying my eyes out in desperate prayer to an absolute void night after night, utterly confused by the discrepancy between the effort on my part and the lack of response from my Father.

I took that celestial silence as proof that I was not worthy. Not loved.

It's frustrating that the Holy Ghost's main conduit for communication is our feelings and our perceptions... the very thing that depression breaks.

At that time, I was desperate.

It didn't make any sense. If I'm trying to do everything right, you'd think the Big Guy could afford to throw me a little bone? Right?? I mean, send a little love my way. Answer just one prayer! Am I not your daughter, for heaven's sake? Who wouldn't do this for their child?

Of course, the big "duh" moment,

the big A-HA,

the light bulb over my head didn't go off until many months later.

I kept wanting God to give me a sign. A direct, straight from Him, honest to you-know-who sign.

But the conduit was broken right then... so He used a workaround.

My family and my friends.

And one year later my heart is full of love for the love you gave me. It was God's love.

'Cause I guess God told you to humor me. Because you did.

And I guess God told you to listen to me. Because you did.

And I guess God told you to tell me it would be OK. Because you did.

And I guess God told you to tell me that you loved me. Because you did that too.

Thanks for that.

I really, really needed it.

2011-09-07T00:01:00.000-07:00

It is a blogoshpere tradition on your birthday to make a list with a number of items matching the number of your years, i.e. "[Enter age here] things you never knew about me."

But if you're reading this (strange, random, pointless, self-indulgent) blog then, what don't you know?

So here is a list of things you already know, things you probably could have guessed or things I otherwise just want to get off my chest on my birthday:

1. I have a lot of anxiety. I was an anxious child. I am an anxious adult. I will be anxious ghost haunting the dreams of my progeny with whispers to please, please consider installing a carbon monoxide detector.

2. I am blessed beyond what I deserve.

3. I don't ever actually want to get what I deserve.

4. Tell me, what's better than cake?

5. Nothing. Nothing is better than cake.

6. I think the Doctrine & Covenants contains some of the most beautiful writing to ever grace this earth. I guess that's what happens when God is the author.

7. I like my job.

8. Seriously, why is cake so good?

9. It's the frosting.

10. But it's also the cake!

11. When I was a teenager I loved Star Hits. It was all pop culture... funny, quirky, totally mainstream but a little left of center at the same time. Did you read it too?

12. On regrets: I regret the times I have not shown empathy or compassion more than just about anything. And I have made many mistakes both related and unrelated to empathy and compassion.

13. Do you think Tina Fey would be my friend?

14. I will never get over my issues with food. You should read both exasperation and defiance into this sentence.

15. I love Gilmore Girls. The writing was brilliant. The Palladinos could work Shakespeare and Gwen Stefani into the same sentence and manage to treat each of them with equal measures of reverence and irreverence. It wasn't always a perfect show... but now that it's gone, it's kind of like a beloved departed. In death, I've idealized it and I miss it all the time.

16. I am a believer. Really, I am.

17. The Beatles are worthy of every bit of hype expressed over them for the last half century.

18. That said, John Lennon probably wasn't a very good man.

19. If Paul McCartney isn't a very good man, I don't want to know about it.

20. Cake!

21. I love my family so much. I think they're smart and funny and I just want to hang out with them, talk, laugh and eat with them.

22. Families are complicated in ways that we can't always talk about.

23. Should we talk about it?

24. Or is better not to talk about it?

25. Why are you not watching Overboard? It's on right now.

26. "We're at sea, and I'm a GOD at sea!"

27. Sometimes I think talking about things with the right spirit can foster empathy and understanding.

28. Sometimes I think talking about things can be the biggest mistake we could ever make.

29. It's on TBS. Right now.

30. In my life I've seen friends and roommates make crucial decisions about whom to date/marry/break-up-with based on a person's taste in music. I've judged those people for what I considered the lack of logic and the frivolity in using music as a benchmark.

31. There was one thing I wasn't considering, though...

32. Family road trips.

33. If you missed Overboard today, you can catch it again tomorrow. Luckily.

34. I don't really believe in soul mates. I'm pretty sure the best way to know if you should marry someone is common sense and prayer. And maybe half a dozen bands that you can both agree that you really, really like? Because, you know...

35. Road trips.

36. I'd really like to thank my parents for sending me to college and on a mission. If I said this every day for the rest of my life, it wouldn't be enough.

37. I would like to say that Garett is perfect for me... but it's more that Garett is just perfect. Is that wrong to say on my blog? That he's perfect? I'm not saying it to make you feel bad about your own husband. I hope yours is perfect too.

38. Cupcakes!

39. My testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ is hard won and constantly in flux. I used to think that this was a weakness, that the fact that I'm constantly asking my God for confirmation of truth is wrong and that if I had enough faith I would never have to ask the questions in the first place. I'm 40 years old today and I finally appreciate the beauty and purpose in all those humble moments of pleading for answers, all the hours on my knees, all the questioning and wondering why, and even for all my (glorious) ignorance. In the most brilliant application of Mr.-Miyagi-style tutoring ever, my Heavenly Father has allowed me to practice the art and skill of personal revelation over and over again. Well, duh: All you have to do is ask.

40. Coming up with this last one was the hardest.

2011-09-03T21:33:00.000-07:00

Ward talent show. Because it's my blog.

2011-08-24T08:34:00.000-07:00

Happy birthday, Dad!

2011-07-29T22:12:00.000-07:00

I turn 40 in 40 days.

A couple of weeks ago I was working out at the clubhouse and one of the Housewives shows was on. The character, er, real-life-person flashed her diamond encrusted Rolex and laughed, "What? I deserve it!I'm 40!!"

I couldn't help but laugh out loud... but only because I totally got it. I don't exactly understand (nor do I really want to condone) this feeling of unearned entitlement. But I have it.

I made it to 40! If this were the middle ages I'd already be dead. Throw me a party.

No seriously. I want a party... but you don't have to throw it. I'll do it myself. I want to celebrate my not-being-dead-yet surrounded by lots of friends... I think maybe there should be a crêpe bar.

And it doesn't stop with the party and the crêpes. (You kind of want a crêpe right now, don't you?) I also feel entitled to a bona fide present this year.

This is not a hint. I don't expect you to buy me a bona fide present. (In fact, birthday presents will be expressly forbidden at my party where crêpes are served.)

My wants are as simple as my needs. I want a real purse.

Like this Coach reissue of their 70s classic.

Or this one from JCrew.

And then I want to put a Nook in it.

It's easy.

Party, friends, crêpes, real purse, Nook.

That's all.

What??

OK, OK, I don't even remotely deserve it.

But it sure sounds nice.

2011-06-02T22:50:00.000-07:00

I have a new friend.

Every Saturday morning we run 10 miles together.

We landed on 10 because one of us is a sadist and the other one a masochist, although occasionally we switch these roles. She is about my age and she, incidentally, grew up in Massachusetts.

Her pace is a little better than mine, although she doesn't usually start to outpace me until at least mile seven or eight. She is the kind of runner that picks up the pace for the last mile or two. I personally can't understand this. How do you speed up after running eight miles? This is usually where I begin to question the poor life choices that led to my presence on the parkway in the first place and all this existential crisis on my part allows her to easily beat me to the car.

She is cuter than I am. I can admit this, but in all fairness, she wears a little makeup when she runs. Even if this were in my own best interest (which it probably is), I somehow can't bring myself to apply blush for the occasion.

She is not a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, although she was already a little familiar with the church before we started our Saturday runs.

My faith comes up among runners fairly often and this all has to do with the Sabbath. If you run races, you'll know that finding a Saturday race can be a challenge. Most races are held on Sundays. People are polite when I tell them that I don't run on Sundays for religious reasons but I know they are perplexed, if not, at the very least, intrigued. My new friend has shown nothing but support in this area... even running a Saturday half marathon a few short weeks after she ran the Sunday one our fitness group trained for, just so that I wouldn't be alone.

But this last week, when the subject of an upcoming (very fun sounding) race came up and I had to decline any participation, my friend responded, trying to sound jokey, "What are you afraid of? That God will be mad at you??"

I think what started out as a curiosity in the beginning of our getting to know each other has now become, possibly, a perception that she's being judged. By me? By God? By both of us?

I don't know.

By mile four that morning, my new friend was feeling bad and wondering if she shouldn't be apologizing to me. I assured her, "Absolutely not." And then I said that Mormons, especially, have to have a healthy sense of humor about other people's perceptions of our faith... Had she not heard of the 14-Tony-nomination-garnering Broadway musical The Book of Mormon? (She had not.)

Moving on...

The very next day at church, I discovered that a fellow sister in my congregation is also a half-marathoner. And did she think the two of us should do a race together sometime? (Yes!) And how about the one that runs through Disneyland next January? (Are you kidding? Yes!) And we Googled it (in church), and it is on a Sunday. My fellow sister didn't bat an eye and, well... I did.

And then I felt bad for batting that eye, because I'm not trying to judge. I'm not even trying to take a stand... although I keep seeming to be?

And all of this rambling nonsense is getting to something I swear. (I think?)

And that is... that it's hard to take a stand because I think I'm misrepresenting myself in some way.

Like that maybe that I'm more pious than I actually am. Or that I'm a perfect keeper of the Sabbath. Which I'm not.

Or that I can explain why I won't run a race on a Sunday but when the Sabbath rolled around and we were were still at Disney World, I enjoyed multiple bliss-filled, decidedly guilt-free rides on Space Mountain. Because I can't.

I'm a paradox. (At the very least.)

A hypocrite. (To tell the truth.)

And paradoxical hypocrites don't deserve much to take a stand.

Right?

And the worst thing is that taking a stand means that you think I'm judging you. (Or you. Or you. Or you.) And I really don't want to judge any of you. (But mostly because I don't want you to judge me in return. Because if we can judge without being judged in return, that's just pure fun.)

So even though running a half marathon through Disneyland sounds like an absolute blast, I can't do it.

But it's not because I think I'm so great at doing the right thing. And it's not because I think God will be mad at me, or you, or anyone else for that matter.

I'm no Eric Liddell. No one is going to make a movie about my display of honor or get an actress to portray me running down the beach set to some awesomely over-synthesized music. (But if they do... Jennifer Aniston, perhaps?)

This is just another area of my life that I'm trying to navigate oh-so-imperfectly. Sometimes getting it right? Probably mostly getting it wrong. But always hoping that someday, maybe by mile eight, I may finally figure out how to stop questioning it all so much and just pick up the pace.

(But until then, forgive me.)

2011-05-26T23:18:00.000-07:00

2011-05-02T17:19:00.000-07:00

I needed to gather three photos of Matthew for his upcoming 6th grade promotion ceremony: one as a baby, one as a kindergartener and one as a 6th grader. For the first, I had to delve into the dark recesses of my hall closet where all the printed photos are stored.

Ahhh, print photos. Remember those? I print nothing now. That's not unusual. And the chance to go through old photos, boxed up nicely but in absolutely no particular order, was quite a trip.

Needless to say, I feel compelled to post these photos for the world to see... Potentially embarrassing loved ones, but never anyone more than myself, I hope.

To start, here's the photo we chose as Matthew's "baby photo" submission. Not quite a baby, per se, but I think it captures his happy nature. He was so easy-going. And what a smartie... he loved (tearing) books (off shelves)!

Here I am with Matthew on a trip we made back to my mother's house in Massachusetts (at the time). It was the year 2000 but for some reason, I'm still sporting the Rachel. Get with it, Melissa!

Go back a couple of years from that and we're all at my father's house for Thanksgiving. I'm fat here and pregnant, too. But I won't lie; I was fat. Going through the hall closet was an unpleasant reminder of the fact that I struggle with my weight. The other interesting thing about this picture (Wait? Was the fat thing interesting?) is that all of my siblings are here. We are at my father's house... but my mother's daughter from her second marriage is here in this picture. I don't remember exactly why Brittany was there at this particular time and in a way it's kind of funny.* The other thing that's funny: the face that Patrick's making.

Footsie pajamas!

Ahhh, the goatee years. Also, I liked peek-a-boo. Apparently.

Uncle Travis and a baby Matthew on our 1999 trip back to Boston.

Oh my gosh, we have way too many of these where it's possible to think that I'm the mother

in the picture.

Oh, you silly Elders! So, so silly.

Can you spot me?

OK, this was the summer after my first year at BYU. I am back in Massachusetts. My college friend Christine is visiting and we are going to church with the most adorable children ever! My siblings. That's my baby brother I'm holding there. Also, Zach is wearing a bow tie. I just love it.

What can I say? Wilson Phillips had more of an impact on my life than they probably should have.

This is definitely the late 80s... Look at my bangs. Buried in the leaves of my Massachusetts home, my brother Travis, my sisters Kelly, Stacy and Brittany... and a little neighbor girl! Hello, neighbor.

I'm sporting an early 80s hairdo and a retainer in this photo. Totally awesome!

All the sisters at Kelly's wedding. This weekend we recreate this at Bridget's wedding.

Auntie Caitlin and our little niece Alexa. Except that they're both just kids! Ahhh, Mormons.

Oh, what a fun trip down Memory Lane. I'm sorry if you were blindsided by your representation on this blog. I think you were all totally adorable. And, plus, I'm the one sporting the Wilson Phillips hair... so I think you're good.

*My father and step-mother have always been exceptional about welcoming and including my sister Brittany. Really exceptional. But it's funny to come across a photo and do a double-take. Wait? Is that... Brittany? We've always said that Britt, in some ways, was like an only child. As the only child from my mother and step-father's marriage, and with all of us being that much older than she is, this photo is a sweet reminder that she really is part of a larger whole.

**One more note about my family and half-sibling lines... I just noticed that Brittany (daughter of my mother and step-father) is Facebook friends with my dad and no less than two of my siblings from his marriage to my step-mother. Rock on, modern family, rock on.

2011-04-03T22:58:00.000-07:00

Disney World, here we come!

Disney World.

A place where I will take lots of photos of Maggie while taller children ride fast roller coasters with height requirements...

A place where someone will teach Maggie to "thumbs up" for the camera...

A place where we will take photos in front of icons...

And splash in the waves and bask in the the sunshine at one of Disney's gorgeous water parks.

Where we will eat an ice cream sundae out of a sand pail because Disney is awesome...

A place where we will take time out for pictures with favorite friends...

And where Maggie will be really, really happy...

Except when we make her ride Tower of Terror.

A place where Matthew will turn 12...

And best friends will do what best friends do... Buy matching hats!

A place where it will turn out that a safari ride at Animal Kingdom is one of my favorite things...

And a place where we will be grateful to our good friends for taking us along for the ride.

2011-03-24T23:32:00.000-07:00

We took a trip and you're going to hear about it.

p.s. Here's a preview.

Intrigued?

How about this one?

OK. So check back later.

2011-03-11T20:00:00.000-08:00

Go read this really great article in TIME this week about the honor in BYU's honor code.

Not that I'm the boss of you or anything.

2011-03-10T22:45:00.000-08:00

Oh, hey. Hi there. It's me.

I know I've been gone awhile. There's so much not-at-all-important stuff to catch up on.

I'm going to pay homage to my step-mother's no segue series and do my own no segue post . It's an homage. An homage. Not stealing her idea.

For a few weeks I was missing a belt I had just bought. It was making me crazy! I couldn't find it anywhere. It wasn't very expensive but I knew that it would be hard to replace. I had been looking for the perfect little black belt in the right size for a long time. I kept asking the kids, have you seen it?, have you seen it? Finally Grace suggested that I pray about it. It always works for her! I thought it was a sweet suggestion. She was so earnest about it... I couldn't help but try. The next morning the belt turned up. The first thing Grace said was, "Had you prayed about it??" I was glad I could say yes.

No segue.

There are 181 days until I turn 40. That's all I'm going to say about that.

No segue.

Today I modeled the dress I'm wearing to my sister's wedding for a friend. She was giving me some advice on a possible alteration. I was short on time and I had to run Grace over to the school for drama club... so when we were done, I threw my clothes on, grabbed the dress and ran out the door. It wasn't until I had walked through the crowded parking lot (at school pickup time) and walked through part of the campus that I looked down and realized that my fly was open. Like wide open.

No segue.

I'm afraid to admit that Charlie Sheen might really be winning because I can't get the phrase Duh! Winning! out of my head. You can use it ironically, or not. It works. On the other hand, every time I look at Charlie Sheen (which is constantly because I own both a television and a computer), I think about Martin. You never stop being a parent no matter how old your kids are.

No segue.

Tonight I bought a pair of jeggings. That's all I'm going to say about that.

2011-01-18T20:20:00.000-08:00

It isn't without good reason that one of my post labels is "Addiction: Running". Despite my ever-amateur status, running really is my addiction, and my love, and my therapy.

I love this ad:

I love that a girl like this one--with her rock hard body and apparent speed--and a girl like me--with my general squishiness and snail-like pace--can get the same benefits from running. Stress, sadness, regret... Whoosh!

Stress, sadness and regret don't disappear from my life, of course, just because I run. But those God-given endorphins help me to process all that stress, sadness and regret in a more positive frame of mind. I really like this ad a lot. It's a good one.

Speaking of ads, this one was my first favorite running-gear ad:

I discovered it back in 2007, the year of my first half marathon. Let's just say I was drawn to it because I can relate.

My jog bra is the second most expensive piece of sportswear on my body, after my running shoes,... and it still doesn't work as well as duct tape would if I could just get up the guts to use it.

My most recent sports bra purchase was one endorsed by both Oprah and Drew Barrymore. (That's right! Both!) It is, dare I say, the most serious piece of clothing I own. I say this because no other clothing in my closet requires an instructional video detailing how to put it on. This one does. (I am not making this up.)

One last ad that I like is this one. Kind of. (I'll explain.)

The question of when I could officially call myself a runner was a hard one. (It is for lots of ever-amateurs just like me.) I finally decided that it was distance that made me a runner for real. For example, I'm participating in a half-marathon training group right now. At the pace my group goes, we could opt to do another group's walk/run pace and finish in the same amount of time. But I can't bring myself to do it. I want to run as far as I can... even if I'm slow.

Still, I wish I could go faster. And then I could be sure...

2011-01-02T00:31:00.000-08:00

It's the beginning of a new year... time to think about resolutions, making improvements and implementing changes.

But I've been thinking about my own resolutions and how they always seem to be the same as the year before. Clearly, I'm not getting anywhere!

I started to wonder if maybe I need to make better, smarter resolutions. And so I began to think about the qualities of a really good resolution.

One might be that the resolution is quantifiable. For example, I might be tempted to make my resolution "Eat fewer Twinkies this year"... but the only problem with that is that I have no idea how many I ate last year. So how will I know if I'm eating fewer? I think I'll just leave my Twinkie eating habit alone.

Another quality of a good resolution might be that it's specific. For example, I might be tempted to resolve to start going to bed earlier... but, really, what is early? As I write this, it's very very early... in the morning. Early to one, late to another... so hard to decide which perspective is right. I think I'll just keep going to bed at the same time I have been.

Another good quality of a resolution might be that it's probable, or reasonable. For example, I might be tempted to say that I won't cut my own bangs in between hair cuts anymore. They never really look right after I'm done and it's always a little embarrassing when I have to cop to it again at my next hair appointment. But, honestly, it's just not likely to happen. I mean, for real, I just cut my bangs earlier tonight... so that resolution's already out. I think I'll just keep cutting my own bangs in between hair cuts just like I always do.

So what are you going to keep doing the same this year?

2010-12-29T23:35:00.000-08:00

This is what she said to me yesterday in the car:

Every time I think of the name Megan I think of the nickname Meggie. Every time I think of the nickname Meggie I think of the name Meg. Every time I think of the name Meg I think of the girl from Hercules. Every time I think of Meg from Hercules I think of Meg Whitman. Every time I think of Meg Whitman I think of that guy that won and how much I can't stand him. And every time I think of that I think of how I talk too much.

Yup. Names can do that to you.

2010-12-24T23:22:00.000-08:00

Every time I see It's a Wonderful Life I laugh that the worst possible thing that could have happened to Mary was to become a librarian. Poor Mary.

Merry Christmas, everyone! I'll talk to you tomorrow when I report how Matt Lauer lies a little but how I still love him.

Sleep tight!

2010-12-21T22:22:00.000-08:00

I heart Christmas cards.

2010-12-17T21:19:00.000-08:00

If you are still reading this blog, even after all this time, even after all the useless things I share, even after blogs have become seemingly more passé than trucker hats or Paris Hilton or Paris Hilton wearing a trucker hat, you deserve a little of my appreciation.

So for Christmas I am giving you...

This rejected Christmas card photo:

This picture of me, eight weeks old:

And this Merry Christmas wish:

So have a very, very Merry Christmas!

2010-12-15T18:35:00.000-08:00

Matt Lauer told me to buy this sour cream coffee cake, so I did. And doesn't this artistic rendering from the website look scrumptious?

Point is... Matt Lauer is the boss of me. Or, at least he could be if he really wanted to.

(Seriously, I can't wait for this to arrive. It is my Christmas breakfast. Hopefully the children won't like it.)

2010-12-11T22:50:00.000-08:00

This weekend our stake is putting on the fourth annual Elk Grove Nativity. It is really just beautiful. Grace got to participate in one of the children's choirs, which was so fun. I hope you'll enjoy a little Christmas spirit courtesy of some super-sweet cuties from our ward. Merry Christmas!

2010-11-30T14:45:00.000-08:00

Apparently even wise men love a swagger wagon. I guess that's what makes them so wise.

2010-11-28T21:13:00.000-08:00

I don't know what to say about this post. It really just is an excuse to brag about these people...

...like this crazy cute baby...

...and again with his favorite cousin. But keep going, because there's also...

....these cute girls...

...and what about these ones. Also adorable. (Sorry, what can I say??)...

...And what about these dance contest maniacs? No one is cuter...

...although my sister and my niece do give them a run for their money...

...until you see this one and you're conflicted because she's so pretty too...

...But wait! Who is this? It's my brother-in-law and his mini-me. They both belong in a magazine...

...But you keep scrolling and you're like Whaa?? Each kid cuter than the last...

(Don't you think their parents should use this as their Christmas card photo?)

...and you're like, "Melissa, I hate you and your braggy, braggy blog!"

And I'm all like, "Don't hate! None of these people look anything like me. So it's okay."

2010-11-12T14:11:00.000-08:00

The only thing less appropriate than posting this on the fridge is posting it on the blog. But I promise... I only did one of those two things.

2010-10-31T20:37:00.000-07:00

Happy Halloween

from

MacGruber and Vicki St. Elmo
(15 seconds, MacGruber!)

A Barbie Mermaid

A (good) witch!

Germany's Miloslav Klose (dancing at our church Halloween party)

Grace and Megan

2010-10-27T20:20:00.000-07:00

Lately I've been having these two seemingly conflicting feelings.

On one hand, I'm a zillion percent sure that I don't want to have any more babies.

But on the other hand, I can't stop thinking about stealing other people's babies.*

It all started with the baby on Modern Family. Every time I watch that show I want to steal that baby!** She's always resting her head on someone's shoulder so sweetly. Did you see the episode where she falls asleep on Mitchell's lap during the pre-school interview?? I want to steal that baby and snuggle her all day long.***

What about cJane's baby? I want to steal that baby too.****

I once even thought about stealing the E*TRADE baby*****... but I think I may have just been impressed by his curiously well-developed savvy in matters of both technology and finance.

Plus I bet he's not a snuggler.

*I'm not actually going to steal anybody's baby.
**I won't steal this baby.
***I won't do it.
****I'm not going to steal cJane's baby.
***** I will not steal this baby.

2010-10-22T10:31:00.000-07:00

Here is a kid who volunteered to sing the first verse of "I am a Child of God" as a solo in the upcoming Primary program... and now I can't stop thinking about the extroverted couple out there in the Sacramento area, perplexed by their reticent and socially awkward child born on or around October 6, 2001.

2010-10-20T16:27:00.000-07:00

Go check out the LDS Church News' website to see an article about our community preparedness fair AND see a photo of the back of my head! Woo hoo! Click here.

2010-10-18T20:42:00.000-07:00

Our awesome Primary made these crazy-cute missionary tags for all the kids in our ward. Look at them! They are totally personalized! So cute.

I had to take pictures before the day got away

from me.

But this one in particular had me thinking about Christmas pictures around the corner.

The shape of things to come?...

2010-10-13T12:59:00.000-07:00

Here's a picture of Maggie showing off something from her fall wardrobe before it unexpectedly became summer again in Northern California.

Here's Maggie later that same day proving that I sometimes make poor parenting choices. She can stay like this for a really long time.

Here's Maggie holding hands with her best friend on a recent field trip to the pumpkin patch. Best friends are awesome.

Here's what my living room looks like and has looked like for weeks. I am the booth coordinator for a crazy-huge stake/community emergency preparedness fair... and I am really, really anxious about it. I hope I do a good job! I hope it will look good! I hope I can answer people's questions! I really, really hope I can pull this off.

Regarding the table. You may remember it from here three-and-a-half years ago? Judge not. What's that expression? Possession is....

Don't answer that.

2010-10-06T22:48:00.000-07:00

Bhahahahaha! No one commented on my visiting teaching post. And I don't blame you!

Visiting teaching can be.... complicated. There is so much that is good about it. And there is so much that's... bad. (I said it. Bad.)

I've had visiting teaching on my mind almost non-stop since a meeting I had yesterday. If you feel inclined to share anything, and I mean anything, that comes to mind on the topic, please do so. Post anonymously!

I'm not fishing for the bad. Just... honest and earnest.

Because I'm still just curious.

2010-10-05T19:41:00.000-07:00

What motivates you to do your visiting teaching?

What are the challenges?

What's your favorite thing about visiting teaching?

What's your least favorite thing?

Just curious.

2010-09-21T11:10:00.000-07:00

I've posted two new things on the tumblr page that I can't really figure out. One thing is spot-on-right, the other is just awesomely wrong. Go here to see.

2010-09-16T16:39:00.000-07:00

I don't know if you heard... but earlier this week John Mayer deleted his Twitter account and moved over to Tumblr.

I think I'm also going to give Tumblr a try because I'm just like John Mayer except that I don't sing, play the guitar, tour with a band, make exceptionally poor relationship choices, broadcast my poor relationship choices over multiple media platforms, give sexist/racist interviews to Rolling Stone or sleeve my arms in tattoos. But otherwise I am just like John Mayer.

Come over for some insight into how I build my wardrobe here.

2010-09-14T17:33:00.001-07:00

Blog? What blog?

2010-08-25T20:55:00.000-07:00

dear sugar, fat, my body image and the number on the scale,

can't we all just get along?

-m

2010-08-19T16:29:00.000-07:00

August 12, 1995

Chanced upon this photo this morning and I decided it's my new favorite. These are all five of my sisters. I love Caitlin's sweet face and her beautiful blond hair in the sunshine. I love Stacy's bun and I remember how pretty her dress was. I love the way Kelly is touching Brittany's hair, loving and familiar. I love that even though we can't see Bridget's face, I know exactly what it looks like at that moment. I'm pretty sure her big, happy smile matched mine.

2010-08-11T19:51:00.000-07:00

These commercials (that don't really fit on my blog template) are for my friend Jennifer. She's running a half marathon in November. She's training right now... and she's going to do awesome and be addicted for life. And then we're going to run one together, right Jen?!

Stick with it! You can do it!

2010-08-05T22:42:00.000-07:00

I don't know who to credit for this idea. Garett and I have started an... I don't know what to call it... maybe a "question journal" with Matthew and Grace. We bought two spiral-bound notebooks. G and I write a question for each of them to answer and leave the journals in their rooms. They answer and, in turn, ask us something. It doesn't have to be every day. The question can be about anything. Serious or silly. We started tonight... and obviously, it will be private after this. But I thought I'd share. Who knows how long it will last. Hopefully longer than the mother's journal I started when Matthew was born. You know, the one to document his every breath. (Only one breath got documented.) And thank you, random Internet blog or magazine article from which I stole this idea! I'm excited to see how it works! (P.S. Tell me if this was your idea. Seriously, I can't remember.)

2010-07-23T00:35:00.000-07:00

A couple of years ago on my blog I confessed how being a mother has made me ever more fearful of the terrible and difficult things this earthly life can inflict upon us. This evening I met, briefly, a woman who is experiencing one of those terrible and difficult things.

Her story is tragically familiar, common, and I'll share only those common details; I don't mean to speculate on her experience. I have no idea what she's going through... no, not at all.

This young woman, a caring and doting mother, was alone with her small son swimming in their backyard pool. After getting out of the water and on the way into the house, she removed her child's life vest. She answered her ringing cell phone and chatted with her husband for mere moments before turning around to find her one-year-old floating face down in the shallow end of the pool. He is currently on life support and the prognosis is not at all good.

Since my brief meeting with this (essential) stranger, I find myself experiencing a sympathetic emotional response that is exhibiting itself in a very physical way. When I say that my heart is aching for her I mean that my entire chest is tight and I think my heart may beat its way out of my body.

It's not just that I ache for the potential loss of her only child, although that would be enough now, wouldn't it?

It's the mammoth, all-encompassing, gut-wrenching, soul-killing, unspeakable, unfathomable and unquenchable guilt.

I can't take my mind off this aspect of (what I estimate is) her pain. I would have to assume that for me there would be no amount of medication (although I would need steady doses until death), therapy (although I would need qualified counseling for life) or even the most loving of family members that could touch that hellish guilt. And time? I just don't think there would be enough.

And so I thought that there is nothing on earth that could kill the wretched monster before it killed me. And so, again I thought, it would have to be something not of this earth.

Only the Son of God could bear that kind of unbearable grief and He did.

Nature's laws are absolute, unbearingly so and too often punishing. They are more powerful that we are, but God is more powerful than they are. I sometimes wish that this fact meant God would stop nature from having her cruel way with us. I don't have the answers to why that is not always so. I have my own ideas which don't really matter at this moment except to say...

I don't think God wanted this to happen to His sweet daughter and her young son. I don't think God thinks she had something to learn and that He had just the way to teach it to her. But it did happen.

And I hope with all of my (aching and pounding) heart that this dear mother can accept the comfort Christ has to offer her. And, I believe (I have to, I must believe) that even if she can't find the will to take up his yoke at this moment, that out there right now in a tiny PICU room in the city of Sacramento, He is filling that space with all of His love and comfort regardless of what she can believe in right now.

God bless you, my fellow mother. May God really and truly bless you and comfort you.

2010-07-19T18:10:00.000-07:00

Look at this face. Is this an adorable face or what?! Especially when he saddles up to me and plants 10 kisses on my arm as he counts backwards to one.

Or when I go to check on him in the morning and he's snuggled up to his big brother.

Or when he's finagled three different treats out of me in exchange for taking his medications (and the look on his face shows he knows he's played me but good).

Five kids and a week of hot summer days wasn't always easy... but, Scottie, you can come back any time you want. Especially if you promise to give me 10 more kisses as you count backwards to one.

Welcome back, Amber & Todd! There are a couple of boys anxious to kiss you, too... one of them all the way backwards from 10.

2010-07-18T15:44:00.000-07:00

Have you ever seen one of these? I actually haven't... but now that I know it's out there I will not rest until I have one. I won't rest, I tell you!!

(The irony is that I discovered this treat reading an article about what not to eat. Namely, the Choco Taco.)

2010-07-07T13:13:00.000-07:00

Sister Lunn 2.0 comes home from serving in the Santa Rosa, California Mission today. Coming home is exciting, emotional and even a little... scary. The world hasn't changed all that much, although it will certainly seem like it has.

As you may know, missionaries are cut off from television, movies, newspapers and many types of music for the duration of their service. And just like the rest of the world, pop culture hasn't really changed all that much... although it will certainly seem like it has.

That's why I'm passing along this handy little pop culture guide to help my little sister through her reintegration, so to speak.

Music: While you were away, something called Lady GaGa occurred.

Obscene, ridiculous and just terrible... but if you dare to listen to one of her songs all the way through even just once, you will not be able to get her out of your head. In essence, you cannot cop to liking Lady GaGa but you won't be able to not sing along to her music.

This same thing can be said of Barry Manilow. I suggest you stick to his music for now. I'll lend you my CD.

Movies: Lots of people are going to be excited to help you catch up on movies released while you were away. Resist their suggestions, however well-intended, for now.

I suggest that you stick two movies that TBS is committed to playing over and over again for your good clean enjoyment. You've Got Mail and Overboard (of course)*. Just trust me on this one for now.

Television: There's lots of good television to catch up on. But don't.

Ignore the television for a while. And while you're at it, block out HBO, E! and FX entirely.

(A little side note on television: There's a show that came out while you were gone, a show you were born to love. It's in your Moulin-Rouge-loving DNA. It's called Glee. It's about a high school show choir. It puts a glee club twist on popular music, past and present. Go ahead and listen to your mother's CDs... but don't watch the show for awhile. Glee pushes boundaries for its audience. Maybe, for this reason, you'll decide Glee isn't for you ever, which is fine. But if you watch it too soon, you'll certainly write it off. But, as much as I hate to use this line of reasoning, once you've acclimated a bit, I think you'll find out why everyone thinks you'll love Glee.)

Yes it's true, eventually you'll get used to all the noise once again. At this moment, that idea might seem a little sad... that you'll inevitably lose that keen sensitivity you've fostered over all these wonderful months. But, I don't know, just between you, me and the Internet... it's going to be alright. A mission is a time. A mission is a season. And leaving behind the world with all of its insanity, and even dare I say some of its beauty, was the right course of action for that season. And now it's time to move to the next time and and the next season. Perhaps there will be things that you'll never abide again, and maybe you'll even remind us all that there are things we shouldn't be abiding either. And that will be a good thing.

But don't feel too bad if Lady GaGa pops into your head. She's just so addicted to that bad romance. You gotta feel for the girl.

*"I was short and fat?"

2010-07-05T23:00:00.000-07:00

Meet the McDonalds.

This is Francis Glen and Sarah Elizabeth with their sons Jay, Kim, Brent and Scott. We spent the weekend with Glen and Elizabeth's four fine boys (now quite clearly men), plus almost every single one of their grandchildren and great-grandchildren. I am mother to three of those great-grandchildren and I'm just so happy to be part of the clan.

Hayden, Ella & Grace

Kid soup.

Max & Matthew

Dylan helps out with the fireworks.

Aiden & Maggie

Brynn

Ryan & Ashley

Karen helps the girls with smores.

It's a really, really good clan.

2010-06-30T22:15:00.000-07:00

I want to move to Boise.

This morning I ran 4.5 miles on the Boise River greenbelt. It was gorgeous and I want to move to Boise.

I came home and had a donut for breakfast and a whoopie pie for breakfast dessert. I want to move to Boise.

Caity made us sandwiches and we headed to the park to picnic and visit the Boise Zoo. I want to move to Boise.

Maggie spent every possible moment hanging with the dogs. She wants to move to Boise.

We ate hamburgers for dinner and roasted marshmallows in the fire pit for dessert. Matthew assisted with the fire. He wants to move to Boise.

The kids played a board game with Garett and Russell while Maggie fell asleep gripping her postcard.

We all want to move to Boise.

2010-06-25T23:47:00.000-07:00

I like to write for my blog. But the times I've written most actively for it have also been the times I've most often thought of the adage "Better to remain silent and to be thought a fool than to speak out and remove all doubt." Abraham Lincoln said this. Or maybe it was Abe Vigoda. Either way, it's good advice and I never really felt like I was following it.

But I kind of miss the writing part.

So I'm making a goal to write a little more often.

Look for the following posts coming soon:

1. Sister Lunn's Guide to Post-Mission Pop Culture Reimmersion (a special tribute to my almost returned missionary sister, Bridget).
2. Correcting other people's grammar: Keeping friends through realizing that nobody cares if he or she is using reflexive pronouns properly.
3. Dear Atlas Shrugged: A series of posts devoted Ayn Rand's behemoth novel that my sister, father and I have chosen to call "summer reading". (Kind of like my Dear War & Peace series except with potentially more swearing.)

So here's to looking foolish. Sorry, Abe!

2010-06-18T22:42:00.000-07:00

Grace's autographed Playbill

Steps to a perfect evening:

1. Grab your BFF; don your favorite matching skirts (because you're eight and you can do that); head to the big city; eat a big hamburger on the wharf; have such a lovely time that you lose track of time; run like the wind to the theater!

2. Sit wide-eyed through an incredible performance; ask your mother a lot of questions in a voice only slightly louder than is appropriate for the setting; as the final curtain drops beg to see it again immediately.

3. Follow friends in the know out of the building swiftly around to the stage door; get as many autographs as you can -- particularly ones from handsome leading men who may (or may not) be the secret (or not-so-secret) boyfriend of the "friends in the know" referenced previously.

4. Go to sleep, well after a time appropriate for eight-year-olds; drift off with a big smile on your face perhaps not fully realizing how much your mother adores everything about you and how glad she is to have a wicked good time with you... and how much she wishes to run like the wind to the theater with you again. And again.

2010-06-06T19:41:00.000-07:00

Matthew's 5th grade state project: An homage to his favorite place.

Heavy on the Scotch tape, I know, but the man threatened to take off points for "shoe-box sightings"... and, well, Paul always told us to listen to what the man said.

...And we always listen to Paul. Because he's the man.

Wait a minute.... that can't be right.

2010-05-26T19:31:00.000-07:00

Grace and Matthew went to Girl and Boy Scout camps respectively in the month of May. To illustrate a difference between the two -- Matthew came home at the end of the weekend with a big bag of smelly clothes. Grace came home with a big bag of smelly clothes plus 40+ digital photos taken by camp leaders. This is not by any means a criticism of one over the other, just an observation of what I think is a funny difference in approach. Trust me on this one... I give my boundless respect and undying gratitude to all good Scout leaders -- regardless of whether or not they choose to carry a camera. Seriously, guys, you rock.

2010-05-16T20:34:00.000-07:00

May has been a busy month so far. We started off with the bang of a starter gun and 13.1 long miles. But the weekend wasn't just about masochistic family bonding... it was also about my family members kindly humoring my children.

Here's Maggie helping Cait build a race day playlist.

Here's the endless game of catch my dad willingly and lovingly played with Matthew.

Thanks guys. You are awesome and I love you. My kids are pretty darn fond of you too. (All of you. Even if you aren't pictured here.)

May has also included a trip to Sacramento's Fairy Tale Town with Maggie's best friends, Cameron and Cosette.

We wrapped up our participation in the local youth tennis league.

He just HAS to be talking to Grace here. Oh the exasperation.

Grace got up bright and early one Saturday morning to work with me at Mormon Helping Hands. About 800 locals volunteered to spruce up beautiful William Land Park.

Both Grace and Matthew went on overnight Scout campouts in May. Firsts for both. I'm so glad Dad was here for Matthew's send-off. Who knew I needed to stock his bag with stashes of candy and smelly boy treats (i.e. Doritos)?! Thanks, Dad. I needed that help... and now I know!

Here's Grace with her best friend Megan just about to leave with their Brownie troop.

This isn't so much something we've done in May as something we enjoy in May. Green everywhere.

And it's only half over! Who knows what else May has in store for us? I love this month.

2010-05-13T14:41:00.000-07:00

Oh crap.

2010-05-08T22:56:00.000-07:00

A very good mother, late 1971

I have written hundreds of blog posts but I would never say I'm a good writer. I've run hundreds of miles but I would never say I'm a good runner.

Sometimes the idea of saying the words "I'm a good mother" don't seem that much easier.

But then, how do you say something so simple about something so complicated. Something as heavenly as unconditional love. Something as earthly as losing a night's sleep next to the bed of a sick child.

Like almost everything else in my life, I keep thinking I can't say I'm good until I can say that I'm perfect. And I'm pretty sure that the full-blown freak out over unfinished chores the other night proves that I am absolutely no good, at least by that standard.

And what about perfection? The more I think about this word, and what I've come to let myself believe it is, the more I hate it. It's cocky. It's prideful. It's keeping me from believing I'm a good mother. And that is a lot of power to give to a really stupid word.

But good? What a great word! There is little that is intimidating about being good, now that I think about it.

Agreeable. Pleasant. Sufficient. Satisfactory. Competent. Honorable. Virtuous.

What wonderfully good things to be.

And well within the reach of someone who may or may not possess very passionate feelings about having the laundry put away and the trash taken out in a timely manner.

And that fact, my dear friends, is all good.

2010-05-05T22:36:00.000-07:00

For my friend Melissa:

Recipe for whoopie pies found here

Recipe for pumpkin whoopie pies found here

These links will take you to my stepmother's recipe blog. Visiting her pretty blog will help you understand why I gain 10 lbs every Christmas.

p.s. I've never had the pumpkin whoopie pies... But even a whoopie traditionalist like me has to admit they look pretty darn good.

2010-05-03T14:30:00.000-07:00

Running is frequently used as a metaphor for life.

Most of those metaphors make me want to hurl. Maybe it's because they are a bit predictable or hackneyed. Or maybe it's because most of what I can come up with isn't all that inspiring.

Life is like running: Keep going! You're going to drop dead at the end... but right now doesn't that sound kind of nice?

Life is like running: Coming in 1,515th, it's less crushingly depressing than it sounds and you can do it too.

Life is like running: Port-a-potties are not worth using. Just hold it.

I think one problem with these is that they aren't actually metaphors... and, who knows, maybe that's where I'm going wrong. Either way, you should totally listen to me about the port-a-potty thing.

As you know from all of my endless yammering of late, a whole bunch (but not nearly all) of my family came into town to run a half marathon with me and Garett this past weekend.

Being with my family is really fun because we all like to eat a lot. Having a passion in common really keeps families close. Most of us are pretty passionate about these:

These are called whoopie pies, but maybe you already knew that. They are truly a New England treat. I had an obscenely oversized one in Boston last November... but these ones, made by my sister Cait, were far superior. I would let you try one, but they are gone now. Also, whoopie pies aren't for everyone. For this reason, I would probably ask you to participate in a couple of fact-finding exercises. Just, you know, to gauge your tolerance for and commitment to fat and sugar. I'm not trying to doubt you or make you feel bad. I'm sure you love fat and sugar just like I do! It's just that at this advanced and aggressive level... things can go wrong rather quickly. And then, before you know it, you're doing crazy things like leaving whoopie pies unfinished and potentially discarded, of all things.

Wait, what was this post about?

Oh yeah, was it bad running non-metaphors?

Well, I'm kind of agitated now because of all that talk about wasted whoopie pies... so let me sum up. Running is hard. Eating is fun. I love my family.

2010-04-28T09:19:00.000-07:00

My sister Kelly referenced "My Parents Were Awesome" in one of her comments. From the website: "Before the fanny packs and Andrea Bocelli concerts, your parents (and grandparents) were once free-wheeling, fashion-forward, and super awesome."

This is a picture of my dad in the army, which didn't leave much freedom for him to be free-wheeling or fashion-forward in that moment... but he was super awesome.

Go check it out...

2010-04-27T21:07:00.000-07:00

Who is this kid's mother?

2010-04-26T22:54:00.000-07:00

Garett doesn't think my totally awesome 80s playlist is totally awesome even though the pegged pants and mullet here might suggest, at the very least, an openness to the idea.

Not helpful!

I tell you who was very helpful in building the perfect playlist, though. My friend, iTunes.

I call him my friend because he seems to know me so well.

I was all like, I'm gonna buy this song by The Bangles and he was like, Well, maybe you'd like this song by The Hooters? And I'm like, Man, you know me better than anyone, maybe even my own husband! And he was all like, I bet your husband won't even like this mix. You should click 'buy' now. And I was like, You're totally awesome 80s right!... I bet he'll hate my mix! And he was all like, Thom Yorke is a pretentious prig. Don't forget to click 'buy' now. And I was like I couldn't agree more. Now show me some New Edition.

And then together we went and found this photo on Facebook.

2010-04-22T12:07:00.000-07:00

I love guilty pleasure music as much as I love this Swatch, this over-sized t-shirt featuring the American and Australian flags, this friendship bracelet and this 80s hair. And it is to this Swatch, this over-sized t-shirt featuring the American and Australian flags, this friendship bracelet and this 80s hair that I dedicate this half-marathon playlist. Anything you'd like to add?

1. Split Enz, I Got You ('81)
2. The Cars, Since You've Gone ('81)
3. Bobby Brown, Every Little Step ('89)
4. Debbie Gibson, Only In My Dreams ('87)
5. Belinda Carlisle, I Get Weak ('87)
6. Bananarama, I Want You Back ('88)
7. Billy Squire, My Kinda Lover ('82)
8. Night Ranger, When You Close Your Eyes ('84)
9. Peter Wolf, Lights Out ('84)
10. Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers, You Got Lucky ('82)
11. Huey Lewis, I Want A New Drug ('84)
12. Bangles, In Your Room ('88)
13. Janet Jackson, Pleasure Principle ('87)
14. Bros, When Will I Be Famous ('88)
15. T'Pau, Heart And Soul ('87)
16. Kool & The Gang, Misled ('85)
17. Rick Springfield, Don't Talk To Strangers ('82)
18. Madonna, Papa Don't Preach ('86)
19. New Edition, Cool It Now ('87)
20. Elton John, I'm Still Standing ('82)

2010-03-24T20:55:00.000-07:00

Matthew bridged over to Boy Scouts from Cub Scouts tonight. Here he is getting his Arrow of Light.Here Matthew pins me for my unwavering commitment to nagging my Cub into action. I work hard at it, you know! You know what I'm not working hard enough at, though? Avoiding cupcakes. I've been running about 22 miles a week... but this picture makes me think I should double that. Or stop eating so many CUPCAKES.

Matthew bridges. And entertains the audience with his action shot.So there you have it. Scout Camp here we come! And by "we" I mean, thank the heavens above that it will never be "me".

2010-03-24T16:48:00.000-07:00

A dash of skillfully applied parental brow-beating and Matthew has a new haircut. I've been missing those big brown eyes!

2010-03-21T18:05:00.000-07:00

Here's to a boy, a brand new board, packages in the mailbox, long distance phone calls, buffet dinners.... and most of all to very, very happy birthdays.

2010-03-17T19:01:00.000-07:00

She really wanted this haircut... but so help me, if she starts using expressions like "the bee's knees" or asking me drive her to jazz clubs, I'm making her grow it out.

2010-03-12T09:32:00.000-08:00

You may not have even noticed but it seems I haven't been sharing as much on my blog lately. And it's not that there aren't plenty of needless things to say. Oh, there's plenty alright! Here are five. To start with.

5 things you didn't know you wanted to know right now:

1. Did you know that the qualified professionals on The Biggest Loser suggest chewing sugar-free gum as a way to cut down on snacking? I don't even watch The Biggest Loser but I know this helpful tidbit because I'm a reader. Of magazines. And because I like to heed sage advice, I've been stocking up on sugar-free gum. I think it's an interesting idea, chewing gum instead of snacking, but I'll spit a piece out in favor of a donut faster than you can say Hubba-Bubba. So it's not really working as well as I'd hoped.

2. Did you know that my longtime, obsessive interest in American Idol is fading this year? It's a pity. I guess.

3. Did you know that every time my 3-year-old uses the potty successfully I give her a full-on, full-sized, store-bought, icing-piled-high cupcake? And then I spit out my gum and have one too. This method of potty-training is yielding mixed results so far, but if I eventually succeed with it I am so writing a book and maybe then I'll realize my long-held dream of meeting Matt Lauer.

4. Did you know that this is, supposedly, the most popular book at my children's school library? It's very hard to get. I actually believe this because, at Matthew's bidding, I requested it from the Sacramento library system. And there's a waiting list. People really want to know how to make Boba Fett-uccine.

5. Did you know that I am developing an ever-increasingly awkward relationship with my pest control guy? I'm not really sure how it started.

Part of the problem might be that he only ever catches me in my workout clothes which can best be described as hobo-fabulous. I like to pair my tattered t-shirts with the residue of last night's mascara, forming generous half-circles under my eyes for dramatic effect.

Another problem might be that a bit of self-fulfilling prophecy has come into play. We had had just enough uneasy exchanges that a couple of months ago I decided to just not answer the door. There really is no reason that he and I need to interact during his visits. I don't even have to be home for them. Unfortunately, he later mentioned it and the obvious fact that we were home. Dude, that's called exacerbating the awkward and it's wholly unnecessary.

So after that, I decided I'd better answer the door. This is how last month's conversation went:

Pest Guy: Good morning. Here to spray around your yard... Have you noticed any problems with pests lately?

Me: Well, yes, actually. I've seen a few ants inside the house. No big deal. You know, just a few ants. And that was actually last week. I haven't seen any in days.

Pest Guy: OK. Well, why don't you just give me a call if you notice any more.

Me: Yeah. OK. It was only a couple and I haven't even seen them in days.

Pest Guy: OK. Well, good. Why don't you just call me if you have any more problems.

Me: OK, but seriously, it wasn't even a big deal. Just a few of them.

Pest Guy (backing away slowly): Great. Go ahead and call me if you need me.

Me (putting my hand to my mouth so as to better project my voice as he walks away): I'll call you! That's a great idea!

What the heck?! Don't think I haven't started shopping around for a new pest control service. I once had a hairdresser that I absolutely loved and left after three lines of awkward dialogue. And he was a really good hairdresser.

Man, I hope things don't ever start to get awkward between me and Garett. I have a feeling it would be a lot harder to replace a husband than a pest control guy. (Although easier than replacing a hairdresser. Back me up, sistas. You know it's true.)

2010-03-01T22:22:00.000-08:00

Are you tired of race reports here at Miss-Adventures? I hope not... because I'm not tired of talkin' about 'em!

This past Saturday I ran a race with my friend Lisa. The race took place on a groomed horse trail around Cameron Park Lake. This is what the weather looked like when we got there.

See that guy in the background? I don't know which race he's running... but he either ran 50 miles, 31 miles or 18.6 that day. This fact has little to do with my race day but sometimes it's nice to point out people who are channeling their crazy into constructive outlets. Because you gotta think... if someone's crazy enough to run 50 miles, what else are they capable of? I'm glad this guy runs.

So anyway, back to the story. Lisa and I were there to run 6.2 sensible miles. By the time we got out on the course the rain had let up quite a bit. The only water we had to deal with was all the stuff already on the ground. And there was a lot of water on the ground. You know what a groomed horse trail becomes when mixed with lots of water? Yup, that's right. Mud.

To add to the fun, the mud was frequently punctuated with giant puddles of mud. At first we tried to run daintily around the puddles because, well, that's who we are. We're nothing if not dainty. We were also wearing $120 running shoes.

It didn't take long, however, to realize that this approach was not going to win us any prizes. And we like prizes! So Lisa picked up the pace because she really wanted a giant canister of electrolyte powder. And, guess what, she got it! Do you want to know how? Because she came in third among the women that day! And this was her first race EVER! Man, she really likes electrolyte powder!

In addition to that, she's super stinkin' cute! You have to be a really secure woman to have cute friends like this who run fast and win prizes. Good thing I'm really secure! Plus, I don't have to feel too bad because they gave me a prize "for finishing the race" (in the words of the race director). And here I am holding it!

I was actually really happy with my pace that morning AND this awesome box of whatever these things are. I'm not likely going to eat them. They look very healthy. Someday when I'm race director I'm going to hand out Hostess products or maybe Girl Scout cookies as consolation prizes. Something people who just won a consolation prize want to eat! These things are going with my food storage because I'm pretty sure they'll last 30 years, at least.

And here we are just about to head home. Man, we're smiling pretty big for people who just ran through giant puddles of mud for 6.2 miles. That's because we're happy in the knowledge that we're channeling our crazy into a constructive outlet. And we totally love it.

2010-02-23T22:59:00.000-08:00

So what? You think I'm happy that I'm still addicted to this show after all these years? You think I'm proud of this? You think I like devoting hours and hours a week to it? You think it's easy?

Sorry. I'm in too deep. Can't change now. You can't teach an old dog new songs. But you can critique 16-year-olds from your living room couch.

Please start watching now so that we can talk about it.

p.s. Twelve singers tonight, three Beatles' songs. I'm not kidding... I think Rock Band is responsible for the surge.

2010-02-14T11:36:00.001-08:00

I'm afraid sometimes I make my husband look bad.

One of those times is Valentine's Day. I'm not a Valentine humbug, I don't think. For sure, I can get behind anything that brings with it the possibility of chocolate, cupcakes or cookies.

But beyond the fun of raiding my children's stashes for Hershey Kisses, I don't really need or expect much from the day, particularly in the way of romantic gestures.

If I let him, I'm pretty sure Garett would happily put more thought into the whole thing. Before I wore him down with years of exposure to my mix of practicality (a heaping helpful) and cynicism (just a dash), Garett could be found to show his affection through tokens more traditionally exchanged between lovers... a card, flowers, dinner at a romantic restaurant. He wasn't even that all mushy about it. Still, for the most part, I broke him of these practices.

The only problem now is that if someone asks What are you doing for Valentine's Day? and I say Nothing really... It just makes my poor husband look like a slacker.

There is one time in our shared history, though, that I sincerely wish I had let my husband's chivalrous side prevail.

When we were engaged to be married, Garett wanted to ask my dad for my hand. At the time, I really felt like it was an antiquated and unnecessary custom. After all, I make decisions for myself, no? My father would expect me to make my choices like a grown-up, thank you very much.

Garett conceded.

And has always regretted it.

And now I do too. Because now I know, and I should have seen then, that thoughtfulness is such a part of who Garett is and that there is nothing antiquated about showing respect and honoring tradition. Still, my 23-year-old self promptly squashed all that inherent courtliness. It's a shame.

In the present, every so often, Garett will shun my lackadaisical approach to the holiday and he'll send flowers to the door in the middle of the day. When it has happened, it has always been unexpected and, dare I say it... fun. But, on the other hand, I'm never disappointed when the only thing to show up at my door on Valentine's Day is a husband willing to corral the children and put them to bed entirely on his own.

And, quite honestly, I can think of few things more romantic, more chivalrous or less slacker.

image

2010-01-22T22:47:00.000-08:00

A little time with my father's Beatles box set has me revamping my Top 10 list. I didn't go back to my old list before I published this... I wanted to compare after the fact. I also didn't look at any of your lists. I didn't want to be unduly influenced.

1. For No One - Revolver
2. I've Just Seen A Face - Help
3. I'm Looking Through You - Rubber Soul
4. You Won't See Me - Rubber Soul
5. Got To Get You Into My Life - Revolver
6. I Want To Tell You - Revolver
7. Good Day Sunshine - Revolver
8. I'm Only Sleeping - Revolver
9. I'll Follow The Sun - Beatles For Sale
10. What You're Doing - Beatles For Sale

So, what does this tell us? That I have a Beatles problem. Thanks, Dad.

Your place or mine?

2010-01-19T08:19:00.000-08:00

One issue that Garett and I have wrestled with in our parenting is the question of the friend sleep-over.

Our kids have spent many weekend nights in the homes of friends. And over here a Friday night with a house full of extra kids hasn't been all that uncommon. But these were the children of the people we were hanging out with ourselves... people we knew as well as family even.

As the kids have gotten older it has become a more complicated issue. Sometimes we know their friends' parents very well... other times less so. We've found ourselves saying yes to some friends... and making excuses to others. Other times we've found ourselves more willing to host than to be hosted. And when the discrepancy started to become obvious to another parent it was hard to be frank about our reasons.

So to make things more consistent, we've instituted a blanket ban on the friend sleep-over. The kids aren't necessarily psyched about the change... but we feel good about the policy.

Still, I'm curious...

What's your stance?

Grace's Winter Recital

2010-01-14T21:43:00.000-08:00

2010-01-13T22:43:00.000-08:00

So where do we stand on American Idol this year, people? I've been too busy to watch the last two nights of auditions... and I thought that was going to be OK, right?

But now the Internet is abuzz with AI references and all the pants on the ground and I'm not getting it!

Friends! I must, MUST prioritize. I've been all potty-training this and and nurturing-the-children that. It's time to put this house in order.

Are you with me?

Note: In reality, I might not actually get to this week's auditions. Seriously, I'm up to my eyeballs in tiny underpants and flushable wipes. Oh yeah... and poop.

Oh, the poop.

While you were sleeping...

2010-01-10T17:00:00.000-08:00

...was the original name of this post.

It was about how I'm a painfully dull Gospel Doctrine teacher but how I was going to change all that by pumping up my students to anticipate learning something new every week through preparation and the sharing of real and timely insights, helping them to expect the unexpected when they come to class, inspiring them to seek out truth in the word of God and gain even more appreciation for the beauty of the gospel, and a bunch of other pretty jazzy stuff.

But it sat as a draft for most of the week.

And then this morning, three minutes before sacrament meeting began I was called into the Bishop's office, released as Gospel Doctrine teacher and asked to be a counselor in the Relief Society and sustained minutes later.

I guess I should have been expecting the unexpected.

It was very unexpected.

But now I've had a quiet(-ish) moment at home and I'm feeling strangely pumped up in anticipation of learning something new, almost uncharacteristically optimistic and definitely inspired to seek out truth in the word of God and in having a greater appreciation for the beauty of the gospel... and for the Lord's seeming plan to keep me utterly humbled before Him. Because, trust me when I say I am.

And that, in the end, is some pretty jazzy stuff.

For grandpas and grandmas and papas and nanas...

2009-12-25T22:45:00.000-08:00

Because these are the people who will appreciate photos of bedhead-ed children armed with neon Nerf weapons.

We hope you all had a great Christmas day!

Merry Christmas to all!

2009-12-24T11:05:00.000-08:00

And, please, take a moment to enjoy these McDonald Christmas card photos... relegated to the "rejected" file.

Have a very, very merry one!

2009-12-02T16:05:00.000-08:00

We're back! And I have so much to tell. I'm dividing my posts about Boston into two categories.

1. Posts about things we did - which will be of little interest to anyone other than me.

2. Posts about things we ate - which will be of little interest to anyone other than members of my family. And me.

p.s. To entice those who fall outside the categories of "me" or "my family", I've included discussion questions that may help. Let me know what you think!

Boston Common and Public Garden

2009-12-02T16:04:00.001-08:00

As a blessed reprieve from Friday and Saturday's dark drizzles, Sunday afternoon gave us sunny skies and crisp air. We had planned to take an organized touristy-type trek around the city... but we missed our last opportunity of the day and we ended up instead taking a leisurely walk around Boston Common and the Public Garden.

This is me and a trash barrel under the entrance sign into the

Boston Public Garden.

Oh and also a piece of trash.

Somebody should really pick that up.

Jeesh.

Here Garett and I stand on the world's smallest suspension bridge. It's beautiful!

Too bad we didn't actually take a picture of the bridge.

Instead you have to look at us.

Here is Mrs. Mallard and her precious ducklings from Robert McCloskey's Make Way For Ducklings. As you may remember from the book, Mr. & Mrs. Mallard reside on the island in the garden's small pond.

People take pictures of their kids on the ducklings' backs. (And then I take pictures of them taking pictures of their kids and post them on my personal blog.)

Recommended reading:

Robert McCloskey's Make Way For Ducklings, One Morning in Maine and Blueberries for Sal.

Discussion questions:

1. How disappointed are you not to see a picture of the bridge?

2. Do you think it's weird/creepy to take pictures of strangers' children?

Woodman's of Essex

2009-12-02T16:03:00.000-08:00

Massachusetts is a place brimming with history critical to the birth and rise of this great nation. But let's face it, too much history can be a real yawn. Food will never bore you.

But Garett was really keen on doing more than just eating.

One compromise we struck was Woodman's. Here we combine food and history.

Woodman's is the birthplace of the fried clam. And, as you already know, I'm sure, the fried clam ranks high in importance among historical deep-fried foods.

Oh dear, I'm salivating. Again.

Garett's fried lobster

It may surprise you to learn that fried lobster ranks considerably below the fried clam in historical importance of fried foods. But Garett had never tasted a fried clam before and he, quite frankly, trusted me not.

Next time, he will know.

And now, so do you.

Discussion questions:

1. Do you think fried foods are important, historically speaking?

2. How important?

The Reunion Report

2009-12-02T16:02:00.000-08:00

The classmates of Woburn's Class of '89 looked...

Fabulous! I'm a little sheepish that my expectations were so low. Overall, I think people looked really good.

Number of persons wearing Woburn's unofficial uniform to the reunion (work boots and a windbreaker)...

Only one. A bit of a disappointment, truth be told.

Moments of awkwardness...

Only one. It lasted from the minute I walked in the door until the minute I left.

Reasons I think the name Melissa has a greater stronghold in the East...

1. Melissa's outnumber Jennifer's two to one in my graduating class.

2. In the course of the evening we met two more Melissa's, not of my graduating class, but married to former classmates.

3. In California I know only one other Melissa.

Discussion questions:

1. Did you think more people would be wearing work boots too?

2. Would you consider naming your next baby girl Melissa? How about for money?

Pizzeria Regina in the North End

2009-12-02T16:01:00.000-08:00

Ranking second in food importance on my list, but first on Garett's, was a trip into Boston's North End for Pizzeria Regina.

Expect to wait in line to be seated. It doesn't matter what time of day. (The line was long when we waited at 12:30 PM and even longer when we walked back by it at 3:30 PM.)
Lucky for us we left our children 3,000 miles away in California. Our small party earned us a quick and easy seat at the bar. (Those poor suckers in front of us with the stroller.)

Mmmmmm. It's crazy good.

The best two bites are the first (the sweet, delicious sauce!) and the last (the perfectly chewy crust!)

Look at that crust bubble. I could cry.

Discussion questions:

1. Does the crust bubble make you want to cry?

2. Do you empathize with people waiting in line at restaurants with their children or do you call them "suckers" too?

This will come back to haunt her in her teenage years.

2009-12-02T16:00:00.000-08:00

Discussion questions:

1. Do you agree that this will come back to haunt her?

Oriental Chinese Food in Woburn Square

2009-12-02T15:59:00.000-08:00

The simultaneously redundant and slightly un-PC name of this little hole in the wall is part of the charm. The other charm is the freaking good food. Pork strips, boneless spareribs and pork fried rice.

I think I ate an entire pig encased in a styrofoam box.

Discussion questions:

1. How much pig is too much pig?

2. Ha, ha! That was a trick question. No such thing.

Kind and interesting people I would see more often if I could

2009-12-02T15:58:00.000-08:00

My cousins Evan and Jeff (and Jeff's adorable wife Meg)

My aunt Jennifer and cousins Jeff and Evan

My aunt Roz

Discussion questions:

1. Isn't family great?

Woburn. It's not just work boots and wind breakers.

2009-12-02T15:57:00.000-08:00

Some years ago, shortly after Garett and I were married, my brother-in-law started law school in Boston. My in-laws were planning a visit and, if I remember correctly, they stayed with my mother. I prepped them as best I could for the Woburn experience.

I'm pretty sure my descriptions included the phrases "soul-sucking" and "depressed, backwards and devoid of hope".

Why the drama?

I don't know. Maybe a little to much Springsteen running through the oversized speakers of my boombox?

When my in-laws returned from their East coast trip, Garett's dad made it pretty clear that I had lost all credibility when it came to destination description.

Here are a few places that the passing of time (and teenage angst) has given me new appreciation for:

The Woburn Public Library: Majestic and awe-inspiring, the library is actually one of my favorite childhood memories. Built in 1879, it is beautiful... but the poorly lit interior, which included a vast number of shadowy nooks and a children's section relegated to the gloomy and dank cellar, always captured the darkest parts of my imagination. Which was the fun of it.

Horn Pond: For years, my siblings and I thought that the name of this body of water was "Hond Pond." The local accent obscured its true pronunciation. Over the weekend, my friend and I ran a 4.25 mile trail race through the woods surrounding this pond. I absolutely loved it! (Pictures about the beauty of this race and the humiliation of my performance to come at a later date.)

Woburn Square: Garett looked around the town square and observed that it looks like the kind you see in the movies. And it was true.

Discussion questions:

1. Did you ever refer to your hometown as a "death trap" or a "suicide rap" as a teenager?

2. Are you mad at me for getting that song in your head now?

Newbury Street

2009-12-02T15:56:00.000-08:00

At one point on our Sunday afternoon stroll around the streets of Boston, Garett and I found ourselves on the famous Newbury Street. Lined with 19th-century brownstones and famously high-end shopping, it is possible to feel underdressed just window shopping.

As we were walking, I started to reminisce about my stint as a nanny on Martha's Vineyard. My employers were art gallery owners. There were two locations, one in Edgartown on Martha's Vineyard... and the other on Newbury Street in Boston.

No sooner had the words escaped my lips than we found ourselves standing in front of the gallery.

So... We went in.

And lo and behold, there we found my former employer and mother to my former charge.

We caught up on their lives and all the changes the last 20-plus years have brought. Her son is currently getting his Ph.D in atmospheric chemistry from Harvard University. (Garett thinks I can reasonably take some credit for this outcome.)

I shouldn't be surprised. He was a bright kid, despite the misstep he and I took together in 1988 when we posed for this...

Discussion questions:

1. Under which circumstances could a sepia-toned faux-vintage photo be considered a good idea? ("Under the influence of alcohol" is not considered an acceptable answer.)

2. Exactly what percentage of Justin's admittance to Harvard's atmospheric chemistry Ph.D program can I take credit for? 20%? Maybe 21?

2009-11-24T14:20:00.000-08:00

I'm anxious.

I know, I know. You're like all What else is new?

But I get on an airplane in two days and the only thing going through my head is Is this a good idea?

Because the decision to go back to the state of my birth and the land of my childhood was all mine. I pushed for it.

I felt a...

pull.

Sometimes I think back to my life 20 years ago (or more!) and the memory of it seems kind of... hazy. Early onset senility? Possible. Or maybe it's just that my life has changed so much since then and I've been gone for so, so long. It seems like a different person lived that life.

Such a cliche!

But it's what I'm feeling.

When I get to Boston I'll be staying with the only person from high school that I have any real contact with. (Sorry, Facebook. You're not that real.) She grew up around the corner from me.

Not figuratively.

Literally. Around the corner. You would walk down my street a few feet and bang a left. (As they are wont to say in Beantown.)

She has since bought and now resides in her grandmother's old house. It is kitty-corner to my childhood home. Someone else lives there now. Do you think I should knock on their door the way they always do in the movies?

Probably not. But maybe when I see it at least, maybe then I'll remember that it all really happened.

I really and truly rode my sky-blue banana-seat bicycle down that street. I really and truly trudged in and out of the bulkhead doors dressed in a full set of snow pants and moon boots (moon boots!) after sledding down a steep hill at the edge of my very own yard.

I really and truly spent summer days swimming in my neighbor's pool and choreographing elaborate dance routines with my friends to Summer Lovin'. I really and truly spent the evenings playing kick-the-can until my mother rang the bell telling us it was time to come in.

I really and truly wore saddle shoes to junior high. (Nerd!) And stepped into a limousine parked out front on my way to prom. (Didn't matter. Still a nerd!)

Is that what it's going to take to make it real again?

Will seeing be believing?

Soon enough, I guess I'll find out.

*Pronunciation key to my home town's name:

Residents will pronounce it Woo-bin.

The rest of us, myself included, should pronounce it Woo-burn.

Now you know!

2009-11-16T14:44:00.000-08:00

Grace has an old friend... which sounds strange to say for someone at the ripe old age of eight. And yet Grace and Scott's history is long.

And even though a few more miles separate them now (although not too many)... they are still fast friends.

So on Saturday evening, these two old friends shared a few hours to take an important step in the gospel of Jesus Christ, baptism.

They dressed in white while their friends and families gathered around. There was beautiful music, meaningful and heartfelt talks and even a little laugh or two.

And afterwards there was food, naturally! And goofing off. And a lingering feeling of contentment and joy... the kind that comes with knowing that you've been blessed and the understanding that family isn't always limited to those who share your bloodlines.

Although truth be told, we have a deep fondness for that kind of family too...

So here's to old friends, loving family members and shared moments of joy. And here's a little extra to a young girl in a white dress from a very proud and happy mom.

With love...

2009-11-11T19:02:00.000-08:00

We saw this story on the news last week. I guess it really had an impact on Grace because she chose to highlight it in her writing assignment. She needed to choose the most interesting current event she could think of and tell why she thinks it is so.

Her text: There are a lot of current events going on. Of course, I should only tell you one. The main current event was a mother's baby accidentally on the railroad tracks when a train was coming. But thankfully the baby was okay. This news was very frightening and interesting. There are a couple of reasons why I think it's interesting. First of all I think it's amazing that that baby is still alive. Second of all, I think it's interesting to watch that baby fall on the tracks. This current event was awesome (yet very scary!).

2009-11-09T20:28:00.000-08:00

Do you already know about The Art of Manliness? Probably? Possibly? Not at all? Oh good, in that case I'm really excited to tell you about it.

It is a website created to "talk about all things manly - both the serious and the fun - but with the ultimate eye toward encouraging readers to be better husbands, fathers, brothers, men." (Click here to read more about the genesis of The Art of Manliness.)

Some of my favorites -

The Lessons in Manliness Series: Click here for a fascinating look Jimmy Stewart. Manly!

The So You Want My Job Series: Click here for a cool post on being a name consultant. As a matter of fact, I do want that manly man's job.

Or maybe you want to click here for a review of the manliest mustaches of all time? I'm not always a fan of the mustache... but that was clearly before I was remembering Tom Selleck, Clark Gable and the Swedish Chef.

So now you know what I've been reading lately. How about you?

2009-10-31T18:29:00.000-07:00

A reluctant cheerleader, a coy Morticia, an emo Harry Potter and a showboating Hanz (minus the Franz) wish you a happy Halloween...

2009-10-31T14:47:00.000-07:00

Disco Stu to Younger-Version-of-Himself-Ben while queuing up the next song on Rock Band.

Stu: Hey, do you want to sing a Journey Song?

Ben: Um... which one?

Stu: Dude, does it matter? It's JOURNEY.

And this is why I love my friends.

2009-10-27T20:25:00.000-07:00

*This is decidedly not Fifi's dress.

At the costume shop:

Grace: I really think you should be "Fifi the French Maid" for Halloween.

Me: Really? I don't know. I think in order to pull that off I'd need to be a little more... um... (thinking to myself: sexy, indiscriminate, easy.... skinny.)

Grace: (Filling in for me).... Pretty?

Maggie reviews the pumpkin patch

2009-10-22T20:47:00.000-07:00

The Hey Hay Jump: Uninspiring

Tree House Slide: Wearisome

Tree House: Ho-hum

Wooden Cut-Out Photo-Ops: Tiresome

Wooden Train: Tedious

Coyote Mountain Slide and Panning for Marbles: Moved me to tears

Crude Wooden Rocking Horse: Totally freaking awesome

2009-10-20T21:25:00.000-07:00

Did you know that today is the National Day on Writing? No? Neither did I.

Well, not at first.

But once I read about it online, I found myself thinking about writing all day... How much I like to write. How little I've been doing of it lately. How much it makes me feel good. How much it makes me feel bad. How much I don't really know what to do with commas.

And I was thinking that I would like to write something. Be in on it all.

And then I was wishing I knew about it sooner. I would have made you join me in a writing exercise... like that one we did on Mother's Day. Remember? It was fun, didn't you think?

What's that? You didn't necessarily think so?

No, no.... You liked it. I remember. Trust me.

Well, nevertheless...

The fact is I didn't know about it sooner. And I couldn't come up with anything to write about all day long. Not a thing.

Even though I couldn't come up with anything to write about on the National Day on Writing I think I'm going to use it to commit to doing more writing exercises here on my blog. Because I think in some ways it's good for me.

And because I need more practice.

And what better place to continue to publicly and hastily publish entries full of awkward phrasing, misused commas and extraneous details from my life all in the name of a small slice of the happiness found in creative pursuits?

It's a blog, baby... It's what it's here for.

(Also, I'll be ending sentences with prepositions. You'll get used to it.)

2009-10-15T16:31:00.000-07:00

Grace ponders the corollary of being sorry, Yosemite, 2007

After a theatrical, although brief, hissy-fit involving at one point the throwing of wadded up paper and the rolling around on the carpet throughout:

Grace (grumbling under her breath): Sorry.

Me: (silence)

Grace: What? You're not going to accept my apology?!

Me: Well, you didn't sound very happy when you said sorry... so I'm waiting for you to say it after you are a little calmer and feel happier about it.

Grace: But I can't feel happy until after I've said sorry!

Point taken.

2009-10-09T22:12:00.000-07:00

Remember how earlier this week I couldn't breathe because I was preparing for my, I mean Grace's, American-Idol-themed birthday party? And also her baptism?

Well, a virus killed my weekend. And now it's nearly killing my husband. And it tried to kill Grace, too. (But she's fighting back.)

And so we called all of Grace's friends and told them not to come tonight. And we called my sister and her family and told them not to bring their newborn up into our house of sickness. And my niece and my mother flew in from Vegas anyway, because we were hoping for the best and what else were they going to do... and we've spent the weekend so far exposing them fully so that we can put them back onto an airplane in a couple of more days.

And now, in a state of perfect self-pity, all I can think about is that quote from A Christmas Story, you know, when the Bumpus' dogs storm Christmas dinner?

"No turkey! No turkey sandwiches! No turkey salad! No turkey gravy! Turkey hash! Turkey a la King! Or gallons of turkey soup! Gone, all gone!"

Except, mine goes something like this, "No rock-star relay! No Heart of Glass karaoke! No judges panel! No Paula Abdul on quaaludes! No birthday cake! No inflatable microphones in the hands of rocking out eight-year-olds... or thirty-eight-year-olds for that matter!"

And then, even sadder, "No friends and family gathered around a font! No primary songs bookending the program! No new scriptures or new scripture smells! No pretty white dresses to wear to the church! Gone, all gone!"

And I know that we will have Grace's birthday party... And, of course, we'll have her baptism... but right now I'm still standing in the kitchen surveying the damage in shock. And we haven't quite made it to the Chinese food restaurant where I see the beauty and unexpected wonder in things not going according to plan.

Because all I can think about right now is turkey hash.

I'm so busy I can barely breathe, but not so busy that I can't blog about nothing.

2009-10-07T09:24:00.000-07:00

And plus, this isn't just blogging. It's business. I've got things to report! And request!

1. I ordered a pair of boots. I hate them.

2. Grace is having an American-Idol-themed birthday party on Friday... and I'm pretty sure I'm a little more into than I should be. We're going to have rock-star dress up, photo shoots, performances and a judges panel in which I play the part of Paula on quaaludes. (Does anybody take quaaludes anymore?)

3. I love the current surge in Beatlemania. The kids had a Beatles-themed Spirit Rally last week at school. (Basically, each grade made up a cheer based on a Beatles song. The cheers were pretty clever.)

Then other day we were driving when "A Day In The Life" came on the radio. Grace, droll and knowing, said, "Let me guess... This is the Beatles." I was impressed. Unfazed, she stated, "I guess I just know my Beatles songs."

Well, alrighty then.

So, while we're on the topic of the Fab Four, do me a favor and go to my friend's blog and see if you agree with my suggestion on which Beatles album he should buy next.

OK, I'm done reporting and requesting things. Thank you for your time.