...the rest of you can read too if you want.
The kids didn't have school Wednesday. They did have school on Veteran's Day, which feels so wrong and they only have FIVE days off for Christmas.
I'd like to understand the inner workings of the Alpine School district's mind.
I did sign a petition on change.org about the lacking Christmas break and then change.org got excited and sent me a whole bunch of other petitions I may be wanting to sign. I don't. My community activism only goes so far.
But I digress.
It was nice to have them home. (I gave them cleaning jobs to do.)
That night there was a terrific storm. Lightening, thunder, wind and snow. Our garbage blew to the end of our driveway and then onto it's side. An empty gas can that was also on that side of the garage blew to the end of our street.
Crazy weather.
(And then there was a small earthquake here but we were gone for that.)
But I digress.
We went to the Schelins' for their annual pie night because why not? Pie!
Thanksgiving morning we headed to Nevada. Over the Salt Flats and through the desert which doesn't have the same ring as over the river and through the woods but when grandmother's house is the destination, we're all happy.
Upon arrival we immediately entered into the joyful cacophony.
My brothers wondered if my dip was from last year because it looked moldy. I told them it was pesto. Then Tabor wondered if I made my own pesto and I told him if that's the same as buying it at Costco, then yes. Then Enoch produced a cold can of Diet Coke with Lime just for me.
Then I told Tabor that Enoch had always been my favorite brother.
But I digress.
Thanksgiving was wonderful. Practically perfect in every way except I did miss the missionaries. We ate our fill of deliciousness. We chatted and laughed and Tabor and Olivia got in both a water fight and then later a pie fight.
Olivia also tried to pick me up but I did what my college roommate, Rachel, taught me to do and went limp. It's a lot harder to pick up dead weight.
These are some of the things college will teach you.
But I digress.
Enoch had his phone out to show me a video with Tom Brady in it. It took awhile to load because cell phones sometimes struggle there in the rural wilds. It finally loaded and then he handed it to me and I accidentally called Tom Brady Steve Brady and then I accidentally pushed the wrong button and the video had to be reloaded.
Enoch gave me what could only be called a look of supreme derision. I remembered the Diet Coke with Lime and forgave him the look of supreme derision.
And also we didn't get in either a pie fight or water fight so my claim is that Enoch and I got along rather well.
But I digress.
We did a craft for the ladies orchestrated by me and during the craft some of the men had the audacity to want pie so my mom scurried to oblige.
More looks of derision ensued. This time by some of the ladies who wanted my mom to tell the menfolk to wait.
But pie. We all had some.
Jennifer's chocolate pie is something one could rhapsodize about.
But I digress.
We also had a talent show starring the grandchildren. We had everything from a play to martial arts to writing samples to the cutest turkey craft you've ever seen to sewing masterpieces to recitations to piano, flute, drums and electric guitar, to singing. Also we saw the shoes Isaiah designed.
Whew! Did I miss anything?
Emma and Mark sang a song in an over the top way that seemed straight out of a 40s musical. The only thing missing was their tall brother who can sing over the top like nobody's business.
Enoch was the self designated controller, there to assure no one performed more than one talent.
A few people broke that rule but since one of them was Savannah, Enoch's credibility as the self designated controller was weakened.
But I digress.
Next up was bingo. Enoch was the caller and we were spread down the table with our bingo sheets and buttons and beans as markers. My dad was conspicuously missing. He was possibly reading in his recliner in the quiet living room.
I tried several times to get everyone to do the wave but it didn't take.
My mom buys bingo prizes like she prepares food. Everyone won three wrapped prizes and then there were a box of leftover prizes.
Speaking of the abundance that is my mother, we then ate again.
Afterward, people started leaving and it was just our little family staying with my parents. It was nice in the quiet house. Emma and Mark went to bed and Adam and I visited with my mom and dad.
The next morning we headed back to Utah. We had many pit stops along the way to home. We stopped at Enoch and Jennifer's and saw their lovely kitchen they are renovating. They have white painted shiplap on the wall and Jennifer's never even see Fixer Upper. I have, so I told her Joanna Gaines would approve.
I was tired and I told Adam I wanted a Diet Coke the size of my head so we also stopped at Love's truck stop. I was filling cups and realizing I couldn't carry 4 Styrofoam cups the size of my head. Adam walked into the store after filling the car with gas and I said, "Will you help me?" The two store employees that were nearby turned to me and said yes, in unison. I told them I meant my husband but I appreciated their willingness.
Later, I told Adam that I sounded kind of rude if the store employees thought I was asking them. I didn't say please. Adam pointed out maybe I should have said please to him.
But I digress.
We stopped at my grandma's and decorated her house for Christmas. I always like that. As a bonus we saw two uncles, one aunt and a cousin also. I told my grandma to sit and visit with them while I decorated the tree. So they all watched me but I felt confident. Decorating trees is what I was born to do.
Between lugging boxes and bins up and down the stairs, Adam checked in repeatedly on the Apple Cup which was happening. We had listened to it a little in the car. Listening to sports on the radio is like the Peanuts characters listening to adults. Just a lot of mumbling. I did catch something that delighted me though. There's a player named Chico McClatcher. Isn't that just the best name ever?
But I digress.
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