Adventure time

Today I'm thankful for Adam's knack for adventures.  I'm ever the reluctant one and he perseveres and then we have fun.

Saturday Emma was at work so Adam and Mark and I saddled up the Subaru and headed out.  Our first stop was the Maverick in American Fork (because Adventure's First Stop).

Our last stop was the Maverick in Santaquin because we had to use the bathroom by then.

We drove out to Eagle Mountain and Cedar Fort and to Fairfield.  Camp Floyd used to be there and in its day, it was largest military installation in the country.  They were trying to keep those pesky Mormons in check but really trying to divert attention from slavery and states' rights.

We visited the cemetery and the Stagecoach Inn and this school:

I loved the details.

This is the inside, peeking through the curtains.

From there we drove.  And drove.  Soon we were on a dirt road in the west desert and I kept saying things like, "Um...Adam?" and he kept saying he knew where he was going.  Google maps kept telling him random little dirt paths to turn on and he kept saying, Nah.

"Um...Adam?"

Adam's grand scheme was to sneak up on Goshen from behind, which we did.  I did my student teaching in Goshen and hadn't been there for 21 years.  (!)  I have lots of great memories of driving there with my carpool buddies (except we went via the freeway).  They knew more about my dating and engagement to Adam than about anyone did.  It was conversation topic #1.

From there we hit Santaquin and saw the sights of Payson (there's stuff to see, people) and then home.

Even though I'm usually hesitant, I'm glad Adam isn't.  It's a beautiful world and we might as well get out in it.

Thanksgiving in August

Sometimes it just seems like so much silliness.  Sometimes it is just like a travelogue that no one except my immediate family will ever be interested in.  Sometimes it is just to keep me writing.  Sometimes it is just because I want to remember.

This blog.

It's mine and so I can therefore do what I want.  Right now, I need more gratitude in my life.   I'm just going to be grateful for awhile.

To start with, I'm grateful today for my family.  Adam, Braeden, Emma and Mark.  They are my world.  My island.  My happy place.

We are an imperfect, struggling lot.  We lose patience and let each other down occasionally.  More often, we carry each other along.

I can't even begin to outline the ways Adam saves me every day.

Braeden is my hero.  Striving against adversity and just generally being awesome.  He inspires me.

Emma walks over and hugs me when she can see I need it.  And she is not a hugger!  She quietly goes around doing good.

Mark is the sparkle I need.  He is sweet and funny and kind.  My sunglasses came apart and I handed him the pieces.  He fixed them and then tightened the other side too.  Because he's Mark.

Some kind soul texted me this picture of Braeden on Saturday.

There was no explanation except, "Working at the car wash."  Who knows?  I just know that I gave birth to that kid.

And I'm glad.

The limits

How about that Michael Phelps?  He's amazing.  The only thing I can compare him to is Michael Jordan.  I guess the takeaway is that if you want a once-in-a-lifetime athlete, you should name him Michael.

I watch the Olympics and see people who have pushed themselves to the very limit.  I marvel at their dedication and preparation and just raw talent. 

I've been thinking about limits and being pushed to them.  Sometimes life gets hard.  Really hard.  Sometimes I feel like that's it, I'm done.  This is beyond my limit.

It never is though.  And here's why.

A few days ago a pinprick of light arrived when one of the laurels told me she'd finished her personal progress requirements.  I spontaneously threw my arms around her.  There are just good things in the world!  Everywhere!

Even on bad days, I have a family that loves me.  They gather around me--even via the phone--and bolster me in ways that matter.  I have a temple that shines like a beacon out the window.  And it's proximity is close.  I can go there for peace and solace.

I have prayer and a loving Heavenly Father.  If I'm quiet enough, I can feel whispers of hope.

The other night, I asked Adam, "Do you feel like we're being pushed to the limits of the human spirit?"

(I'm nothing if not dramatic.)

He said, "Yes."  Then he added, "And we're surviving."

And guess what?

We are.

Tiny notes

Dear Emma,

YOU GOT A JOB!  I am happy happy happy for you.


Dear weeds in my yard,

I feel like I can't turn my back.  Stop growing already.


Dear tomatoes,

You're awesome.  Keep growing.



Dear library,

I love everything about you.



Dear alerts on my phone,

I didn't particularly want to know who won the gold at the Olympics because I was going to watch that.  Thanks for freeing up my evening?



Dear Mark,

When you tell me you don't need to clean because it is "your room" you are in dangerous territory.  Very dangerous, my friend.  I'm glad you recognized it in time and cleaned that room that you're allowed to use.



Dear Grandma Geri,

Emma has been making her bed every day.  That bedding you gave her is magic.



Dear Adam,

I like reminiscing with you about biology class at BYU.



Dear Marianne,

Thank you for helping me pass biology at BYU.  I spent too much time talking to Adam but you saved my bacon.



Dear Dad,

Don't tell me stories about times you almost got into a gunfight.  I'm lucky you're still alive.  I guess we all are.

My favorite spice

I've got to say, it's ginger.

It's nice to have Mark back.  We've regained a bit of balance.  We're always a bit lopsided without Braeden but 2/3 is better than nothing.

It was quiet when Mark was gone.  It would have been quiet anyway because Emma's quiet.  But when Emma's reading Harry Potter manically all week, it's really quiet.

Yesterday in the backseat of the van, they discussed Harry Potter and what Voldemort should have done with the horcruxes.  Emma has clever ideas and ideas that wouldn't occur to me and that I only minimally understand because I have only read each book once.

Mark also has...clever ideas.  He thought Voldemort should have made a burrito a horcrux and then eaten it.  Also, if Voldemort was magic, why didn't he give himself a nose?  And maybe a tan?

I love hearing them laugh.

And they discuss at length who has to do which cleaning jobs.  (I suggested they write down the jobs and trade off each week.  "No," they said, "We like doing the same jobs.  We have it figured out."  I wanted to point out that they had the same elaborate discussion every week but I decided never mind.  It's the safest pursuit with the two most stubborn children in America.  Never.  Mind.)

And I love hearing them sing.  As I write this, they are in Emma's room, singing loudly.

Siblings were a good invention.

Games

I don't mean the Olympics.  Although I have enjoyed watching them a bit.  Every four years I suddenly care about swimming and gymnastics for a few weeks.  Except men's gymnastics.  It kind of freaks me out.  Especially when they're hanging on those rings and their eyes and muscles are bulging in alarming ways.

I digress though.

I don't really love playing games all that much.  A complicated and intense board game full of strategy?  No thanks.  I am OK with a card game, if it's fast.  I don't have patience for much else.

Except Boggle.  It's my one talent.  I don't think Adam has ever beat me at Boggle.  He kindly offers to play when he thinks I need cheering.  Over the last several days, we had Boggle out on the table and played intermittently.  (It's an advantage of having a big kitchen table and not many people home.) Adam scored higher than me a few rounds but I soundly beat him in the end, just like always.

Why isn't Boggle an Olympic sport?

I also played (and outscored) Emma.

She's dangerous though.  I'm not sure I'll always beat her.

Adam and I were playing on Saturday afternoon.  Emma took a break from her reading and sat down at the table.  (She's been doing her self inflicted Harry Potter marathon again which is sort of crazy--she read over 1000 pages on Saturday alone.  Why does she do this?  No one knows.)  Emma watched us for a few minutes and then started writing words down on a piece of paper.

She got a whole bunch of words neither Adam or I saw.

She found jot and tittle in this.  I don't know what to think about having someone better at Boggle than me in the family.  She'd better stick to her reading...

We refused to acknowledge the words she had in common with ours.

Then she decided to go back to her reading.  (I can't imagine why.)

I miss Mark

Early in the morning I glanced in the mirror and my hair reminded me of something.

I decided it was this plant.

This plant is sort of sad.  I divided my fern in two and the other half is thriving and looks like a fern should and this poor guy is spindly and sheds leaves.

And looks like my hair first thing in the morning.

I've heard sometimes people resemble their pets.  In the absence of a pet, maybe I'll start resembling my plants?

Maybe though my hair has just gone whackadoodle because Mark is gone.  Braeden has told me many times when looking at pictures of me that I became much prettier after Mark was born.  "You needed Mark," he says.

Mark's at scout camp and I'm resembling an emaciated fern.

Good thing he's coming home tomorrow or I may start looking like this plant: