Things that are astounding:
Last night we were doing some measuring and figuring and Mark said I should ask Alexa to do the multiplication and Adam said, "Well, you can just do that in your head, right?"
And I certainly could not.
He explained how he did it in his head and he naturally does math the way the Common Core is wanting kids to learn math. If that's not a ringing endorsement for the Common Core, I don't know what is. Because Adam is faster than Alexa (especially since half the time she doesn't understand what I say).
Things that are terrifying:
Teaching kids to drive. Mark is hands down our easiest. He seems more agile and ready to take correction than his siblings were (maybe we're calmer and better at giving correction). I don't know. It's still terrifying.
Things that are lovely:
Adam came home a little earlier than usual from work and we sat down for a few minutes and just talked. He is good and wise and understands me (much better than Alexa does).
Things that are frustrating:
I have intermittent insomnia and I hate it. For no apparent reason, I just wake up some nights and can't go back to sleep. I also don't have as much time to read as I would like so last night I just got up and read my book. It's better than watching the clock.
Things that are perplexing:
We are planning a little home project and there are 1,000 (ballpark figure) off-white/cream paint chips sitting on the kitchen table right now. There's one I think I like the most. But does it work? And how can you really have a strong opinion on but neutral colors. I mean, they're neutral....
Things that are cozy:
I love getting into bed under heavy covers. Sleeping in the summer around here is usually just too hot for heavy covers. I love a cool room and warm bed. (Now I just need to sleep.)
Things that are frigid:
Me at traffic duty in the morning. Which reminds me, I need to go find some mittens.
Tuesday, October 9, 2018
Monday, October 8, 2018
I belong to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints
I am grateful for the weekend we just had.
I loved having Braeden and Emma home. It felt like a holiday. I enjoyed laughing with them and hearing all three children talking downstairs after I had gone to bed. When every bed is full around here it feels like all is right with the world.
I loved listening to the Women's Broadcast with Emma. The older she gets, the more I just love being around that girl. She is funny and clever and kind and strong. The boys left to go take care of the emissions tests for the cars (which felt like a huge gift--I love not doing stuff like that) and Emma and I made face masks out of coffee grounds and coconut oil. (It's a long story.) We laughed a lot and the face masks weren't really successful. After we cleaned up that mess, it was time for our conference session. We huddled over a puzzle and then under a shared quilt and watched the meeting. I felt grateful to be a woman and grateful to have a daughter and grateful for the good women who I am descended from.
I know there are women treated poorly in the world and women who feel like they are given a raw deal in life because they are women. I think the combination of righteous men and strong confident women in my life have largely left me impervious to those feelings. Any time I have felt mistreated, I feel the matriarchal power I inherited rising up inside of me and I speak out for truth and fairness.
That's a tangent and nothing to do with the meeting, but when I feel gratitude for being a woman, a big part of that is the chain I'm part of from grandmothers to mom to me to Emma.
After the meeting we went out for pizza. It wasn't that great but we did have a good conversation and we had a good coupon. Emma said, "It was good for $7 pizza." It's hard to argue with that.
Of course the highlight of the weekend was hearing the speakers of General Conference. I felt inspired and buoyed and like I want to do better.
Awhile ago, I heard someone say that an activity that gives your soul rest makes you feel more like yourself. That is how I feel about General Conference. It reminds me of who I am and what matters most to me.
I welcome the invitations extended and have already started on my Book of Mormon reading schedule to finish by the end of the year. (I asked Emma if she thought my blog counted as social media because I'm taking a break from that. She said, "No, it's just like a journal that a few people read." I'm going with that.)
As I prepared for conference, I thought I would love to find ways to increase my personal study of the Gospel. Wow. Ask and receive. I am excited for the new curriculum of Gospel study we've been given.
The Church is true, my friends. Whatever did I do to deserve being born into such goodness?
I loved having Braeden and Emma home. It felt like a holiday. I enjoyed laughing with them and hearing all three children talking downstairs after I had gone to bed. When every bed is full around here it feels like all is right with the world.
I loved listening to the Women's Broadcast with Emma. The older she gets, the more I just love being around that girl. She is funny and clever and kind and strong. The boys left to go take care of the emissions tests for the cars (which felt like a huge gift--I love not doing stuff like that) and Emma and I made face masks out of coffee grounds and coconut oil. (It's a long story.) We laughed a lot and the face masks weren't really successful. After we cleaned up that mess, it was time for our conference session. We huddled over a puzzle and then under a shared quilt and watched the meeting. I felt grateful to be a woman and grateful to have a daughter and grateful for the good women who I am descended from.
I know there are women treated poorly in the world and women who feel like they are given a raw deal in life because they are women. I think the combination of righteous men and strong confident women in my life have largely left me impervious to those feelings. Any time I have felt mistreated, I feel the matriarchal power I inherited rising up inside of me and I speak out for truth and fairness.
That's a tangent and nothing to do with the meeting, but when I feel gratitude for being a woman, a big part of that is the chain I'm part of from grandmothers to mom to me to Emma.
After the meeting we went out for pizza. It wasn't that great but we did have a good conversation and we had a good coupon. Emma said, "It was good for $7 pizza." It's hard to argue with that.
Of course the highlight of the weekend was hearing the speakers of General Conference. I felt inspired and buoyed and like I want to do better.
Awhile ago, I heard someone say that an activity that gives your soul rest makes you feel more like yourself. That is how I feel about General Conference. It reminds me of who I am and what matters most to me.
I welcome the invitations extended and have already started on my Book of Mormon reading schedule to finish by the end of the year. (I asked Emma if she thought my blog counted as social media because I'm taking a break from that. She said, "No, it's just like a journal that a few people read." I'm going with that.)
As I prepared for conference, I thought I would love to find ways to increase my personal study of the Gospel. Wow. Ask and receive. I am excited for the new curriculum of Gospel study we've been given.
The Church is true, my friends. Whatever did I do to deserve being born into such goodness?
Friday, October 5, 2018
Grateful Friday
Here are some things I'm grateful for:
It finally--for real--feels like fall. There are leaves swirling and it's jacket weather and we've had some wild and dramatic thunderstorms.
It is General Conference weekend! Braeden and Emma are coming home for the weekend and that is my favorite. There is nothing cozier than the five of us, snuggled under blankets in our comfy clothes, enjoying the good word of God.
One of the students I work with at school asked me if she can call me Mrs. Curly. (She has curly hair too.)
I got MD (Mark's Doppelgänger) to write! About half a page!
I've started thinking about Christmas gifts for our kids. When gifts are your love language, Christmas shopping feels like paradise. (Also the lists! How I love lists!)
I found some pretty pumpkins. They complete me.
Thursday, October 4, 2018
Another post about Mark
Years ago, Marianne's girls thought I wrote about Mark way too often and didn't give Braeden and Emma enough press around here. My excuse now is that he's the only one here.
I picked him up from school and when he learned I had a sore throat, he said, "You don't talk. I'll answer all your questions."
(I'm predictable I guess.)
He said, "I had a good day. I have some homework in Spanish."
Duty completed, the rest of the way home he talked about PE. It's the one class I hear all about. It also never ceases to amaze me that Mark actually enjoys PE. It's like someone telling you how much they enjoy having a cold.
(I hated PE.)
Yesterday I was working with Mark's doppelgänger (we'll call him MD for ease). We were working on writing and MD hated it. He didn't want to write a personal narrative. He didn't want to be told what to write.
He was supposed to write about a time he was sick or hurt. He couldn't (wouldn't) remember a time he was either sick or hurt. "Have you ever fallen down?" I asked him.
"Everyone has," he said, dismissing me.
"Do you have a bike? Have you ever fallen off?" I asked, refusing to be dismissed.
He launched into a story about how he was a superhero and had never fallen off his bike. When Mark was that age, all his stories ended with explosions and MD's was the same.
Finally, he relented to write a story about a time his sister was hurt. He wondered if he could make up an alternative story where the apple cut his sister (rather than a knife accidentally cutting her).
He also started a story about guns.
(Once Emma asked Mark why all his stories ended in violence.)
This kid is Mark. Except he doesn't have red hair.
After school, when Mark had finished telling me about basketball in PE, he started grousing about English. He said that he didn't like writing what his teacher wanted him to write. He wanted to write what he wanted to write.
We decided that he and MD could start a support group for kids-who-don't-want-to-write-about-that and his English teacher and I can start a support group for teachers-who-make-them-do-it-anyway.
Later, I was driving Mark home from an errand and he said, "I know what you need. A frosty from Wendy's." I conceded that did sound good.
In a turn of events that would surprise exactly no one, Mark got a frosty too.
I said, "This does help my throat feel better."
He put his arm around my shoulder and said, "No one knows how to take care of their mama like I do."
I think more accurately, no one knows how to get their mom in the Wendy's drive thru like he does.
I picked him up from school and when he learned I had a sore throat, he said, "You don't talk. I'll answer all your questions."
(I'm predictable I guess.)
He said, "I had a good day. I have some homework in Spanish."
Duty completed, the rest of the way home he talked about PE. It's the one class I hear all about. It also never ceases to amaze me that Mark actually enjoys PE. It's like someone telling you how much they enjoy having a cold.
(I hated PE.)
**
*
Yesterday I was working with Mark's doppelgänger (we'll call him MD for ease). We were working on writing and MD hated it. He didn't want to write a personal narrative. He didn't want to be told what to write.
He was supposed to write about a time he was sick or hurt. He couldn't (wouldn't) remember a time he was either sick or hurt. "Have you ever fallen down?" I asked him.
"Everyone has," he said, dismissing me.
"Do you have a bike? Have you ever fallen off?" I asked, refusing to be dismissed.
He launched into a story about how he was a superhero and had never fallen off his bike. When Mark was that age, all his stories ended with explosions and MD's was the same.
Finally, he relented to write a story about a time his sister was hurt. He wondered if he could make up an alternative story where the apple cut his sister (rather than a knife accidentally cutting her).
He also started a story about guns.
(Once Emma asked Mark why all his stories ended in violence.)
This kid is Mark. Except he doesn't have red hair.
**
*
After school, when Mark had finished telling me about basketball in PE, he started grousing about English. He said that he didn't like writing what his teacher wanted him to write. He wanted to write what he wanted to write.
We decided that he and MD could start a support group for kids-who-don't-want-to-write-about-that and his English teacher and I can start a support group for teachers-who-make-them-do-it-anyway.
**
*
Later, I was driving Mark home from an errand and he said, "I know what you need. A frosty from Wendy's." I conceded that did sound good.
In a turn of events that would surprise exactly no one, Mark got a frosty too.
I said, "This does help my throat feel better."
He put his arm around my shoulder and said, "No one knows how to take care of their mama like I do."
I think more accurately, no one knows how to get their mom in the Wendy's drive thru like he does.
Wednesday, October 3, 2018
Silver and gold
It shouldn't come as any surprise that Braeden, the sentimental one who loves history, would love poring over scrapbooks. He pulled some out on Sunday and brought them upstairs.
He showed Liberty pictures of her as a child and Freja the same.
What I really loved was watching Freja and Braeden and Mark look at the books together (Neither Leif nor Emma were there). It made me realize/remember how the Jorgensens are a big part of our life. I love how connected our families are. I love all the ways we've intersected over the years.
Freja remembered the bizarre fashion choices of all three kids and the names of all Emma's stuffed animals. She remembered when Mark was a wild banshee and like she said, "Emma's always had a...strong...personality." They are all her memories too.
We started looking at pictures on my laptop and came across some videos I had never seen. Mark and Emma had apparently created them. Since Emma wasn't there Sunday, Adam texted her some of the videos.
Emma said, "I was even weirder than I remember."
I love finding little gems documenting these weirdos. I love friends that remember it all and love us still the same. I love that friendships endure.
Now that they are at BYU together, Freja said she and Emma shop together and are each others' conscience, limiting each other to one treat.
Friends like that are wonderful. Friends that remember all your childhood stuffed animals' names are priceless.
Last night we had the lovely experience of attending the BYU Choir Showcase. The only thing that marred the night is that I only saw tiny glimpses of Emma. She's too tall for the front row and too short for the second row. As usual though, it was thrilling to hear such beautiful music from such talented kids.
(The drive home in a violent thunderstorm with rain pelting the windshield and water gushing down the streets was sort of thrilling too....)
By a huge coincidence, Nola and Louisa Porter (our across the street neighbors) were seated right next to us! The concert hall holds over 1000 people and there we were. (Emma and Sara Porter are in the same choir.)
Nola said that Dave and Jack were at a Jazz game and had just texted that they were 5 rows away from Elder Stevenson. She snapped a picture of us and texted back, "I'm 5 seats away from Adam."
He showed Liberty pictures of her as a child and Freja the same.
What I really loved was watching Freja and Braeden and Mark look at the books together (Neither Leif nor Emma were there). It made me realize/remember how the Jorgensens are a big part of our life. I love how connected our families are. I love all the ways we've intersected over the years.
Freja remembered the bizarre fashion choices of all three kids and the names of all Emma's stuffed animals. She remembered when Mark was a wild banshee and like she said, "Emma's always had a...strong...personality." They are all her memories too.
We started looking at pictures on my laptop and came across some videos I had never seen. Mark and Emma had apparently created them. Since Emma wasn't there Sunday, Adam texted her some of the videos.
Emma said, "I was even weirder than I remember."
I love finding little gems documenting these weirdos. I love friends that remember it all and love us still the same. I love that friendships endure.
Now that they are at BYU together, Freja said she and Emma shop together and are each others' conscience, limiting each other to one treat.
Friends like that are wonderful. Friends that remember all your childhood stuffed animals' names are priceless.
**
*
Last night we had the lovely experience of attending the BYU Choir Showcase. The only thing that marred the night is that I only saw tiny glimpses of Emma. She's too tall for the front row and too short for the second row. As usual though, it was thrilling to hear such beautiful music from such talented kids.
(The drive home in a violent thunderstorm with rain pelting the windshield and water gushing down the streets was sort of thrilling too....)
By a huge coincidence, Nola and Louisa Porter (our across the street neighbors) were seated right next to us! The concert hall holds over 1000 people and there we were. (Emma and Sara Porter are in the same choir.)
Nola said that Dave and Jack were at a Jazz game and had just texted that they were 5 rows away from Elder Stevenson. She snapped a picture of us and texted back, "I'm 5 seats away from Adam."
Make new friends but keep the old. One is silver and the other gold.
Tuesday, October 2, 2018
Books I read in September 2018
Sigh.
Here's what I read and actually finished:
The Turner House by Angela Flourney **
I liked this book OK. I think it's good to read about people that have vastly different experiences than your own every once in awhile. It widens your worldview. This book was about an African American family in Detroit. One of my main impressions was: Can everything be white peoples' fault? Because sometimes it seemed like the family thought yes, everything is white peoples' fault.
Wolf Hollow by Lauren Wolk ****
This one was for book club + a Newbery honor book + I really liked it. It reminded me of To Kill A Mockingbird. It was about a girl who was bullied by a genuinely awful girl at her small country school. As this escalated, a neighborhood "weird guy" (the Boo Radley of the story) was blamed. I loved the humanity of it and the kind good parents and I guess everything about the book. I recommend.
**
*
Since I didn't have many books to share, here are a few of the things that were making me laugh out loud yesterday.
First this:
Followed by this:
Monday, October 1, 2018
Great Basin National Park
An alternative title: That post with a million pictures.
(National Parks are photogenic.)
Adam and Mark and I went to Great Basin National Park on Saturday. To say that I went under duress would be overstating things but to say I was enthusiastic would be inaccurate as well. I was somewhere between those two.
Because of Lehman Caves.
I don't like caves.
And we were going to one.
"But, why?" I (possibly) whined.
The drive was beautiful. Here's a shot taken while driving through Delta, UT, home of the Rabbits. (Adam knows small town Utah high school mascots because of refereeing basketball.)
The scenery across the desert was lovely and stark and dramatic.
Here's our first peek of Wheeler Peak (see what I did there?):
The first thing we did at the park was go to the cave which was a good idea because I wanted to get it over with.
Here we are waiting outside for our tour to start:
My shirt said happy on it and I told Adam and Mark that after I died in the cave, I wanted them to look at my shirt and think, "There. Are you happy now?"
I wore my Nevada necklace because we were in the Silver State!
For a lot of the cave, I just concentrated on breathing and not freaking out. It was also amazingly beautiful. When we walked through some of the more narrow parts, I would walk behind Adam with Mark behind me and I figured if I died, at least I would be sandwiched between two people I love.
These pictures are ones Adam took in the cave:
After we were out of the cave, under the blessed sky, I told Adam I was glad I had gone in the cave and appreciated him for pushing me outside my comfort zone.
He asked, "Would you do it again?"
No.
We ate our picnic lunch and took pictures of the beautiful surroundings:
It was a little windy...the good news is that now I know what to dress as for Halloween, Sam the Sheepdog.
"Good morning Sam."
"Good morning Ralph."
We hiked to the Bristlecone Pine Grove. Every Nevadan worth their salt knows that is the state tree but I had never seen one in person maybe because they grow so high up mountains. (Liberty's boyfriend, who grew up in Winnemucca, came to dinner last night. We were showing them some pictures from our trip and he said, "That's the state tree, right?" I immediately loved the kid.)
It wasn't a necessarily long hike or even that steep but we were over 10,000 feet and felt the lack of oxygen. Also, the trail was super rocky and had lots of tree roots across it so you had to be careful not to turn your ankle.
Mark clamored ahead of us as we slogged along behind him. He kept telling me encouraging things and I kept wondering how important bristlecone pines were anyway.
When we got to the top and Mark saw the sign indicating we had reached our destination, he ran ahead. I told him, "This is why people don't like you, Mark."
It reminded me of when we walked the Freedom Trail in Boston and were all exhausted. When we got to the Boston Commons, Mark ran across the grass to go climb on the playground.
No idea where he gets all his energy.
But the bristlecone pines! I loved them! Definitely worth the hike.
I could have taken pictures of their sculptural textured beauty all day. (I know what you're thinking...it looks like I did.) They were pretty amazing. They are the oldest living organism--some of them are over 3000 years old. Since they grow in such harsh conditions, they grow really slowly and they are really strong. Even after they die, they stay intact because the wood is so hard.
I love this beautiful varied world we live in.
On the drive off the mountain, Adam stopped so I could take pictures of the orange and red aspens.
Why are some of them orange and red instead of just golden yellow? Adam said, "Isn't it because of the sugar or something?"
"But why? Did they eat all their Halloween candy at once?"
In case it isn't already clear, Adam and I are pretty much botanists.
We pulled over at the state border so Adam could check what was rattling in the car. If there's anything that man can't abide, it's a rattle in the car.
Eying the sign for slot machines, he said, "Here's the last chance to take a chance."
We didn't take the chance, just headed home.
In every little town we drove through, Adam asked if we wanted to stop for dinner but Mark wanted to press on until Cracker Barrel.
So we did.
I drove the rest of the way home from Springville and Mark made a playlist (like he does). It started with Uptown Funk followed by Mexican Radio, followed by REM, Gypsy Kings and Frank Sinatra.
Sometimes I just love everything about Mark. (Even when he runs ahead when any decent person ought to be exhausted.)
I also love Adam and the adventures he infuses into our lives. He always wants to take the scenic route and I love being by his side.
(National Parks are photogenic.)
Adam and Mark and I went to Great Basin National Park on Saturday. To say that I went under duress would be overstating things but to say I was enthusiastic would be inaccurate as well. I was somewhere between those two.
Because of Lehman Caves.
I don't like caves.
And we were going to one.
"But, why?" I (possibly) whined.
The drive was beautiful. Here's a shot taken while driving through Delta, UT, home of the Rabbits. (Adam knows small town Utah high school mascots because of refereeing basketball.)
The scenery across the desert was lovely and stark and dramatic.
Here's our first peek of Wheeler Peak (see what I did there?):
The first thing we did at the park was go to the cave which was a good idea because I wanted to get it over with.
Here we are waiting outside for our tour to start:
 |
| Do I look stressed out? Because I was stressed out. |
I wore my Nevada necklace because we were in the Silver State!
For a lot of the cave, I just concentrated on breathing and not freaking out. It was also amazingly beautiful. When we walked through some of the more narrow parts, I would walk behind Adam with Mark behind me and I figured if I died, at least I would be sandwiched between two people I love.
These pictures are ones Adam took in the cave:
 |
| This picture gives me anxiety. It is looking up when we were in one of the narrow passages. |
After we were out of the cave, under the blessed sky, I told Adam I was glad I had gone in the cave and appreciated him for pushing me outside my comfort zone.
He asked, "Would you do it again?"
No.
We ate our picnic lunch and took pictures of the beautiful surroundings:
It was a little windy...the good news is that now I know what to dress as for Halloween, Sam the Sheepdog.
"Good morning Sam."
"Good morning Ralph."
We hiked to the Bristlecone Pine Grove. Every Nevadan worth their salt knows that is the state tree but I had never seen one in person maybe because they grow so high up mountains. (Liberty's boyfriend, who grew up in Winnemucca, came to dinner last night. We were showing them some pictures from our trip and he said, "That's the state tree, right?" I immediately loved the kid.)
It wasn't a necessarily long hike or even that steep but we were over 10,000 feet and felt the lack of oxygen. Also, the trail was super rocky and had lots of tree roots across it so you had to be careful not to turn your ankle.
Mark clamored ahead of us as we slogged along behind him. He kept telling me encouraging things and I kept wondering how important bristlecone pines were anyway.
When we got to the top and Mark saw the sign indicating we had reached our destination, he ran ahead. I told him, "This is why people don't like you, Mark."
It reminded me of when we walked the Freedom Trail in Boston and were all exhausted. When we got to the Boston Commons, Mark ran across the grass to go climb on the playground.
No idea where he gets all his energy.
But the bristlecone pines! I loved them! Definitely worth the hike.
I could have taken pictures of their sculptural textured beauty all day. (I know what you're thinking...it looks like I did.) They were pretty amazing. They are the oldest living organism--some of them are over 3000 years old. Since they grow in such harsh conditions, they grow really slowly and they are really strong. Even after they die, they stay intact because the wood is so hard.
I love this beautiful varied world we live in.
On the drive off the mountain, Adam stopped so I could take pictures of the orange and red aspens.
Why are some of them orange and red instead of just golden yellow? Adam said, "Isn't it because of the sugar or something?"
"But why? Did they eat all their Halloween candy at once?"
In case it isn't already clear, Adam and I are pretty much botanists.
We pulled over at the state border so Adam could check what was rattling in the car. If there's anything that man can't abide, it's a rattle in the car.
Eying the sign for slot machines, he said, "Here's the last chance to take a chance."
We didn't take the chance, just headed home.
In every little town we drove through, Adam asked if we wanted to stop for dinner but Mark wanted to press on until Cracker Barrel.
So we did.
I drove the rest of the way home from Springville and Mark made a playlist (like he does). It started with Uptown Funk followed by Mexican Radio, followed by REM, Gypsy Kings and Frank Sinatra.
Sometimes I just love everything about Mark. (Even when he runs ahead when any decent person ought to be exhausted.)
I also love Adam and the adventures he infuses into our lives. He always wants to take the scenic route and I love being by his side.
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