Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Happy Halloween!! (courtesy of two little flowers)
Yesterday, I was one year late; today, I am one day early. Thanks to my friend Annie for taking such adorable pictures. We love our little flowers!
Monday, October 29, 2012
Happy Halloween!!
I usually do things after the fact, which is why I'm posting last year's Halloween pics. I just barely found some costumes for this Halloween--and need to find a way to get pictures done this week--or at least before it snows again!
Here they are--my little bee and flower!
(pictures taken by my amazing friend, Sierra of Sierra Rose Photography)
Here they are--my little bee and flower!
(pictures taken by my amazing friend, Sierra of Sierra Rose Photography)
Sunday, October 28, 2012
Good things come to those who wait
It finally came: the call. We are getting the house. Our house.
We're excited, nervous, and talking about the house every second we can. We're discussing paint colors, furniture options, and the biggest change: Scott and I finally get our own room. Yes, that's right, we've been sharing a room with either Noel or Juliet for the past 2 1/2 years (due to sleep problems of our toddler--future blog coming on that lovely topic). And as much as we love our little girls, we're excited to have our own space.
We made the offer seven months ago. Seven months! Most of our belongings are in storage, and we only kept out summer clothes, thinking we would close by August, or September at the latest. Last week, we had to unload half the storage unit to find warm pants and coats for our family. And somewhere in that storage unit are two giraffe costumes the girls should be wearing on Halloween. I packed them because I was sure we would be in the house for Halloween. Obviously, I shouldn't have had a predetermined timeline about a shortsale.
We close on Tuesday, and we'll be painting and getting the house ready to move in. It's a great house, but the wallpaper in the bathroom needs changing...
Besides that, we love the house! (I'm sure we'll be loving Lowe's as well!)
There are some amazing things about the house. The house sits up on a bluff, and we'll never have anyone blocking our view to Antelope Island. The back of the yard borders a park, and I already know we'll be spending many, many days there. And for all those reasons--and a bunch more--we didn't give up on this short sale. (If you are thinking about moving next summer, you may want to start looking at short sales now!)
(pictures of the house AFTER the paint jobs to be posted soon!)
We're excited, nervous, and talking about the house every second we can. We're discussing paint colors, furniture options, and the biggest change: Scott and I finally get our own room. Yes, that's right, we've been sharing a room with either Noel or Juliet for the past 2 1/2 years (due to sleep problems of our toddler--future blog coming on that lovely topic). And as much as we love our little girls, we're excited to have our own space.
We made the offer seven months ago. Seven months! Most of our belongings are in storage, and we only kept out summer clothes, thinking we would close by August, or September at the latest. Last week, we had to unload half the storage unit to find warm pants and coats for our family. And somewhere in that storage unit are two giraffe costumes the girls should be wearing on Halloween. I packed them because I was sure we would be in the house for Halloween. Obviously, I shouldn't have had a predetermined timeline about a shortsale.
We close on Tuesday, and we'll be painting and getting the house ready to move in. It's a great house, but the wallpaper in the bathroom needs changing...
There are some amazing things about the house. The house sits up on a bluff, and we'll never have anyone blocking our view to Antelope Island. The back of the yard borders a park, and I already know we'll be spending many, many days there. And for all those reasons--and a bunch more--we didn't give up on this short sale. (If you are thinking about moving next summer, you may want to start looking at short sales now!)
(pictures of the house AFTER the paint jobs to be posted soon!)
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
The Tragedy of Batman
Scott tells a story every birthday that goes something like this:
When he was turning 10 years old and his sister was turning 2 years old, his mom asked him what sort of a cake he wanted. His reply? A Batman Cake. Their birthdays are four days apart, and his mom didn't want to make two cakes, so she opted to make a Barbie Cake. For the next 22 years, Scott has told this story on his birthday, and has refused to have cake. Instead, he opts to have cookies and sherbet, and there is still a tone of resentment that a 2-year old got placed before him in terms of a birthday cake.
This year, his mom decided to put an end to this story, and bought him the Batman cake. It was incredibly sweet, and Scott seemed ready to put the story to rest. Until I stepped in.
The cake had been on the counter, and the girls kept asking for some during breakfast, lunch, and every time in between. I got tired of saying no, so I just stashed the cake in the oven and didn't think about it again. I started to cook dinner and turned on the oven. Five minutes went by, ten minutes went by, and suddenly, the kitchen had an odd smell. I couldn't place it-was trying to reach a casserole dish on the top level of the cabinet when suddenly it clicked. Scott's birthday cake was being melted in the oven. I jumped down from the counter, opened the door, and there was the previous cake, melted and morphed into an unrecognizable shape of black plastic and melted icing. Batman was gone.
When Scott entered the kitchen, his face was void of emotion, but somewhere deep inside, I think his thoughts read like this: I've waited 22 years for this Batman Cake, and you just destroyed it. I will never have a Batman Cake for my birthday.
Next year, I'll make chocolate-chip cookies and buy lime sherbet, but I know what's coming. Instead of the story about his mom, it will be the story about me, and how I destroyed the Batman Cake. This story is going to live for at least another 30 years.
When he was turning 10 years old and his sister was turning 2 years old, his mom asked him what sort of a cake he wanted. His reply? A Batman Cake. Their birthdays are four days apart, and his mom didn't want to make two cakes, so she opted to make a Barbie Cake. For the next 22 years, Scott has told this story on his birthday, and has refused to have cake. Instead, he opts to have cookies and sherbet, and there is still a tone of resentment that a 2-year old got placed before him in terms of a birthday cake.
This year, his mom decided to put an end to this story, and bought him the Batman cake. It was incredibly sweet, and Scott seemed ready to put the story to rest. Until I stepped in.
The cake had been on the counter, and the girls kept asking for some during breakfast, lunch, and every time in between. I got tired of saying no, so I just stashed the cake in the oven and didn't think about it again. I started to cook dinner and turned on the oven. Five minutes went by, ten minutes went by, and suddenly, the kitchen had an odd smell. I couldn't place it-was trying to reach a casserole dish on the top level of the cabinet when suddenly it clicked. Scott's birthday cake was being melted in the oven. I jumped down from the counter, opened the door, and there was the previous cake, melted and morphed into an unrecognizable shape of black plastic and melted icing. Batman was gone.
When Scott entered the kitchen, his face was void of emotion, but somewhere deep inside, I think his thoughts read like this: I've waited 22 years for this Batman Cake, and you just destroyed it. I will never have a Batman Cake for my birthday.
Next year, I'll make chocolate-chip cookies and buy lime sherbet, but I know what's coming. Instead of the story about his mom, it will be the story about me, and how I destroyed the Batman Cake. This story is going to live for at least another 30 years.
Monday, October 15, 2012
Friday, October 12, 2012
This Week's Nemesis: Sticker Weeds
Last Saturday, I had a brief window without any responsibilites. Scott and Juliet were napping, Noel was on an outting with Aunt Barbara, and I had a couple hours before the afternoon session of General Conference. I grabbed a small water bottle, jumped on my bike, and started on the trail that connects North Ogden to Brigham City. The first five miles were wonderful--I got past the neighborhood, and was soon going past farms and irrigation ditches. The path turned north around the mountain, and the breeze was just enough to make me think, this day is perfect.
Somtime during the next few miles, I went through a patch of sticker weeds and my front tire was covered. At this point, I made the colossal error. The mistake that changed the bikeride to a hike in three seconds flat. I got off my bike and pulled the sticker weeds out of my tire. If I had been thinking logically, I would have realized they were acting as plugs, but I'm not much of a logical person. And I'm definitely not logical when I'm out on a bikeride enjoying nature. I'm most vulnerable at that moment, thinking that the world is perfect for me, and nothing will disrupt my own little utopia. As if we can ever be that lucky...
I unplugged several sticker weeds, not connecting the dots until it was too late. I also happened to be in a spot that was close to nothing, and had no options but to turn around and begin walking back. Suddenly, that beautiful scenery that had whirled past while I had been on my bike was unbelievably boring on the walk home.
For the next several hours, I alternated between walking and jogging with my bike. I alternated between telling jokes inside my head and telling jokes out loud to myself. I alternated between the pros of taking a bikeride alone (solitude), and the cons of taking a bikeride alone (extended solitude). Several hours later, I finally arrived home. Scott and Juliet were still asleep, Noel was still on her outting, and I walked into the house without anyone concerned for my safety. Five minutes later--Juliet woke up, Noel arrived home--and I suddenly saw the benefits of extended solitude, albeit too late. I'll have to be thankful for the sticker weeds next time I'm stuck in the middle of nowhere.
Somtime during the next few miles, I went through a patch of sticker weeds and my front tire was covered. At this point, I made the colossal error. The mistake that changed the bikeride to a hike in three seconds flat. I got off my bike and pulled the sticker weeds out of my tire. If I had been thinking logically, I would have realized they were acting as plugs, but I'm not much of a logical person. And I'm definitely not logical when I'm out on a bikeride enjoying nature. I'm most vulnerable at that moment, thinking that the world is perfect for me, and nothing will disrupt my own little utopia. As if we can ever be that lucky...
I unplugged several sticker weeds, not connecting the dots until it was too late. I also happened to be in a spot that was close to nothing, and had no options but to turn around and begin walking back. Suddenly, that beautiful scenery that had whirled past while I had been on my bike was unbelievably boring on the walk home.
For the next several hours, I alternated between walking and jogging with my bike. I alternated between telling jokes inside my head and telling jokes out loud to myself. I alternated between the pros of taking a bikeride alone (solitude), and the cons of taking a bikeride alone (extended solitude). Several hours later, I finally arrived home. Scott and Juliet were still asleep, Noel was still on her outting, and I walked into the house without anyone concerned for my safety. Five minutes later--Juliet woke up, Noel arrived home--and I suddenly saw the benefits of extended solitude, albeit too late. I'll have to be thankful for the sticker weeds next time I'm stuck in the middle of nowhere.
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