Ultimately, this book was too far fetched for me to enjoy. I really admire much of French's style of writing. I've read all of her Dublin murder squad books and liked the first one, Into the Woods, best because the formula wasn't obvious yet. Now, I know something mental is going to happen to the lead detective's investigation and, this time, it seemed unnecessary. Besides that, all of the insanity or characters that experienced mental breakdowns (I counted 9) was overkill. What was the point? That it was caused by the location of Broken Harbor? That the recession and lack of work produces hallucinations and a personality switch? That you didn't have a chance at a normal life if you had a mental illness in your family history or heredity?
The resolution didn't work for me either...all of those lengthy, lengthy monologues and confessionals. Too neat and convenient. Throw in WAY too much information on rodent and animal life, cops reneging on their own character development and too much sympathy all around for the eventual guilty party and I don't even know why I'm giving this three stars. Probably, they were earned during the first half of the book, which was really good.
I fear the next story will be Richie's and his dopey end annoyed me. This is probably the end of the line for Tana French and me.
Thursday, June 20, 2013
Book Review #16 - Broken Harbor
Book Review #15 - The Great Gatsby
Even though I originally read this in high school and had the expected indoctrination of this-is-why-this-book-is-so-great, my fifteen year-old self still thought it was great. After re-reading it this week, my 37 year-old self loves it even more.
I wanted to read it again before I saw the new Baz Luhrman movie adaptation but didn't get around to it. I was surprised when I didn't adore the movie. I thought the marriage of a great book and Luhrman's decadent style would be perfect for me. I liked it well enough (I've loved his other movies: Moulin Rouge and Romeo and Juliet) and really enjoyed the mash-up of an updated soundtrack with the elaborate time period costuming but there was something irritating about it all. I thought it was Leo DiCaprio's acting but after finishing the book, I don't think that's it. Instead, to my surprise, I think the movie overdid all of the parties in the beginning. Not that the parties weren't accurately portrayed and the indulgence and depravity present as described by Fitzgerald but the book was able to describe the parties and mention their frequency without having to place the reader in the tiring environment for long.
Because, the book isn't only about the shallow excess of the era. It is about a great obsession. While I read, I realized how closely the dialogue of the movie matched the book but subtle descriptive words and Fitzgerald's absolute masterful grasp of phrasing was able to soften my judgment of all these ridiculous people and allow the tragedy of misplaced ambition to touch me.
This absolutely has a place in America's classrooms and deserves its label of The Great American Novel. I loved it.
Friday, June 14, 2013
Needy
For most of my married life, I've acknowledged and been aware of my financial vulnerability and dependence on Jay without any particular anxiety or stress. Marriage is, after all, a giant study in trust, loyalty and sacrifice. I've always trusted Jay and felt like an equal partner in all aspects of our relationship and family and so it has always worked.
Still, the fact remains that I have no actual income and haven't had any for over thirteen years. Almost everything we own is jointly ours and every major decision gets made together but a situation happened this week that left me feeling like a child. For years, I have known that my next car would most likely be a Toyota Sequoia. With four growing boys, some who will have to travel in back rows in man sized bodies as I'll most likely be driving it for the next 8-10 years, and an occasional need to tow something, my choices included the Suburban/Tahoe XL, Expedition, Sequoia or Armada. I've sat in the back row of all of them except the Armada, which has a deal-breaking poorly positioned rear door handle (it's only fair that I expose my ridiculous too) and felt like my knees were in my nostrils in all but the Sequoia. The Toyota Sequoia also has the look that I like best.
Unfortunately, they are expensive! Even used Sequoias are expensive and hard to find and I've been waiting and saving and looking and pining for what seems like forever. Throw in the Dave Ramsey method of buying a car (cash) and it felt/feels like I'll never own one. When one with relatively low miles (35,000) and priced fairly showed up on a used lot here in my own small town, my heart leapt at the convenient and immediate possibility.
It wasn't the perfect match. The car was gold and I am not a lover of gold things. I'm not sure why but I've always been drawn to the cool feel of silver but I was willing to overlook the color. It had cloth seats and I've had enough soda/ketchup/chocolate spilled in the minivan, which has leather seats, to wonder if I could emotionally handle my kids messes that would take more than a rag to clean up. It was also pretty scratched up on the interior driver's side door which made me doubt the salesman's explanation that it was previously driven by a bank president but purchased as a corporate vehicle, which showed up on the carfax report. I guess it makes sense if the bank president wore a studded leather jacket and a got too close to the door handle while jamming out to his tunes. It could happen.
Those small flaws and Jay's absence for scout camp during the second half of this week stalled my decision making. The salesman dutifully called me on both Monday and Tuesday (I test drove it last Saturday) and I said I was still thinking about it and had some concerns. Part of me was hoping my reluctance would motivate them to come down on the price without any actually price negotiation on my part but I should have known better. In two years, this is the first used Sequoia under 100,000 miles that has appeared on the market. Some sisterly advice and the absence of stupor of thought convinced me that I should go ahead and buy it. We don't have all the savings we need to pay for it all in cash, however, so a partial loan was necessary to complete the purchase. It was then when I felt akin to a woman in Saudi Arabia.
Jay is out of town. I have no income. In my head, I'm an independent, able and strong woman but on paper, I'm just a needy wife who can't sign on the dotted line without my paycheck garnering, employed husband. When I drove by the lot several times yesterday and saw that the Sequoia had been sold, I felt a mixture of sadness and rage. To be sure, none of this is Jay's fault. He was happy to do whatever I wanted. He worried about me getting a car I didn't love but had I made up my mind on Tuesday, before he left, I would be driving around in a gold beast today. So, even though it's really my fault for being too cautious and slow in my decision making, my financial limitations had me feeling like a kept woman. I looked at the ads in the paper for jobs today, wondering what I could apply for if I had to, and I don't know! I could teach beginner piano and voice lessons. I could work in the mall. I could be a secretary or a front office girl. And that list makes me so sad. I know I'm more than that. I'm a good mother and a good wife and a college graduate and a smart and dependable person and yet, I'm totally dependent on someone else to make a large purchase like a car. I'm Gloria Steinem's worst nightmare.
This would all be horrible and depressing if my life was like Sleeping With the Enemy or, in actuality, like those burqa-clad women in the middle east but it is not. I have a wonderful partner who shares everything, who works hard and takes his responsibilities to provide and protect seriously. He is thoughtful and generous and takes such good care of me and our kids and only wants me to be happy so I'm fortunate that way. And, please don't get me wrong. I still think staying home and raising my kids is the best thing for them. It provides as much stability and comfort in their lives as Jay's job does and both our commitments to our family allow this whole family machine to work. With all that in mind, I know another Sequoia, somewhere, will turn up and it will all be fine. It's only a car, after all. A car that I need my husband to buy for me. :-(
Thursday, June 13, 2013
12 for 12 - June 2013
5. I have been looking for a used Toyota Sequoia for about 2 years. There is one at a local used lot and I spent hours on the computer looking and comparing it to others. I don't know! So much anxiety when buying a car.
7. We drove to Farmington for a Sam's Club run.
8. Well...if I'm down there I'm going to have a delicious sweet pork salad.
9. Most annoying part of the day. Some steer chute thingamajig shipped for Jay who was, of course, gone and the semi didn't fit up the driveway and the driver was an idiot who just kept saying, "I don't know how to get this up to your house if you don't have a truck," so in 3 separate drives with all the back minivan seats removed, I got it up to the house and had Sam help me unload it all. The driver of the semi just sat in his truck. Grrrr.
10. Garbage day isn't until Friday! I call this garbage debt and it stresses me out!
11. Sat in the hot tub by myself once all the boys were in bed. With just me, I only use one side and kept half of the cover on.
12. My cracked heels are as bad as they have ever been and wearing flip flops makes them so much worse so I've tried to be diligent about applying ointment and wearing my heel booties every night when I sleep. So attractive.
Not a very exciting day but I guess that's the point? Capturing the everyday - heel booties and all.
Friday, May 24, 2013
I Guess I'm That Weird Mom Now
When I turned twelve, I had a slumber birthday party. My birthday is in August and so my birthday parties were always a bit odd. Friendships tend to suffer over summer break without the forced regular contact of school and so my guest lists were always a mish mash of school friends with whom I stayed in touch, cousins and church friends. Turning twelve was a particularly weird year because elementary school was over and I figured some girls from church, who had attended different elementary schools, would most likely be my new school friends come September when school started. I also remember inviting a girl from church, Angie, who I didn't necessarily see becoming a close friend but who I also didn't want to feel bad should she find out at Beehives that I had invited several of the other girls. Maybe my mom asked me to invite her. I can't really remember. But she was there.
The specifics of the party I barely remember. That was the last year I was in gymnastics so I do remember doing back handsprings on the striped green couch. I remember Angie's birthday present to me: a homemade clown with a store bought plastic face and plastic hands glued onto some kind of can and a sewn blue and polka dot clown outfit sewn into the shape of a body. It even had blue yarn for hair. It was impressive although a slightly immature gift for a twelve year girl.
I also remember that Angie could not spend the night. That seemed weird to me. In fact, her whole family seemed weird to me. I'd see them at church in a row and Angie and her sister would match perfectly from their fancy homemade dresses with lace and bows to their long, curled hair. It was like their mom was playing dolls every week. Maybe it was cute on four or five year olds but I felt bad for twelve year old Angie. Her parents definitely made her "uncool."
Perhaps the world seemed scary to Angie's parents like it seems to me now. Last night, at bookclub, a friend who has a very popular 7th grade son at the other middle school told me she went through her son's texts messages (we all agreed that parents can and should check phones) and there was a message from a girl offering him a blow job. Awhile back, another friend of a 7th grade girl told me her daughter got a text from a boy about masturbation. I'm sorry if those sentences seem crude and best left unmentioned but these are the voices in my head today. I don't mean to be vulgar but that is the reality of present day middle school. Sexually developing and curious and insecure kids with much too easy access to bad information. Not all boys and girls act and speak like that, obviously, but technology seems to make bad decisions that much easier to make. So, yeah, the world kind of seems scary to me and my decisions as a mother become affected.
Still, there is a part of me that knows that while this behavior seems more overt and certainly more damaging, thanks to cyber trails, than it was during the late 80s when I was transferring from girl to woman, it isn't brand new. There were rumors about kids who did that kind of stuff when I was in 7th grade. I didn't really know what any of it meant back then, but I heard about it. Also, they were the bad kids. I had the benefit of being the fifth child whose parents had already experienced teenagers and rebellious fashion and independent hair styles (I flew the mom-controlled-hair coop in fourth grade and have the bad pictures to prove it) and they were pretty relaxed and trusting when it came to my friendships while Angie was the oldest. Maybe Angie's mom somehow thought that was what happened at parties even back then and wanted to protect her child. Now, I have an oldest who seems to be the victim of my own desire to protect. I've explained our decision against friend sleepovers before. That rule isn't changing but I also haven't had to knowingly enforce it this past year. I thought the invitations had stopped. Turns out, my kids frequently turn down sleep over offers on their own with a "My mom won't let me do sleepovers" response (seems a bit unfair that I am the bad guy as Jay is equally opposed to them). Thanks to technology and Seth being invited to a friend's birthday party sleepover tonight via text, I have his text response to prove it.
So, I'm picking him up tonight sometime between 11:00 and midnight. That's late, right? I felt so generous offering him that pick-up time yesterday but now his friend's text response is haunting me.
"Sucks to be you!"
Ugh.
At least he's not going to the party with a clown for a gift.
Thursday, May 23, 2013
Book Review #14 - Eleanor and Park
At my children's "country" elementary school, there library there also serves as a branch library to the rural community. It is small but does usually have a copy of the hard to get a hold of new releases so, if I'm picking up one of my children, I often go in and find something to read. The librarian working is always the same and we have gotten to know each other during check-out and return times.
How much do I love that she had a book I had never heard of reserved for me just because she thought I might like it? A lot. She had just finished reading it and said, "I kept thinking you'd like it as I read it." This is so strange because we really don't know each other but maybe she knows me better than I know her since she knows what I read.
She was right. I really liked it. I was a pretty normal teenager. Honestly, I think every teen feels like a big freak but I usually don't relate to books like Perks of Being A Wallflower because I was involved and had friends and did sports and all that "uncool" stuff to those who rebuff the mainstream either by choice or by force. I couldn't finish Perks because of all of the sex and drugs but this book was able to highlight the difficulties of kids who don't fit in without making either of the characters degenerates. I adored Eleanor. I loved her thoughts and her insecurities and her coping skills. I hated her family. I wondered which kids I ignored because of their clothes or weirdness might have had home lives like Eleanor. Park was a little less believable to me because his isolation seemed more self-imposed.
Still, there is a moment in the plot when Eleanor and Park are in an English class and studying Romeo and Juliet and the teacher is trying to engage the students to think why such a sad story has survived the test of time as well as it has. Predictable answers are given until Eleanor suggests that it reminds people what it feels like to be young and in love.
This book does just that. I never had a high school romance as intense as the one experienced between Eleanor and Park but I have fallen in love and the description and progression of that magical discovery that someone likes you just as much as you like them is perfect. The nuanced secondary characters, awesome 80s references, tragic backgrounds and formidable odds to overcome made this read that much more sweet.
Book Review #13 - Juliet
If you're a fan of romances and the story of Romeo and Juliet, this story is probably right up your alley. It's mostly clean although there is a bit of totally unnecessary language that doesn't belong at all. I am pretty tolerant of language in books if its use fits the circumstance or character and neither criteria was met here.
The author attempts to showcase the historical lore behind the classic Romeo and Juliet story. I enjoyed learning that Shakespeare was most likely not the creator of the star-crossed lovers tale but merely produced the most famous rendition. I also enjoyed being taken back to medieval times, even if the speech and actions of the main characters didn't seem very authentic.
The modern day romance is what really annoyed me. I have found this to be the case in a lot of stories set up like this. Coming immediately to mind is Sarah's Key and Possession (although it works better in Possession) but I did not believe or care about the romance between the discoverers of the historical mystery. In fact, their conversations were torture for me. I felt like I was reading a very novice author (think high school level) writing dialogue. Oh, she definitely had a thesaurus at hand for the word "said" and used "whispered" "gloated" "hissed" "moaned"....just about any word other than "said" but if felt terribly trite and juvenile to me. When I finished the book and learned that the author grew up and only moved to the US in 2002, it almost explained the irritating use of English. It just didn't feel natural.
Like I said, if unbelievable dialogue doesn't bother you and you really do like Romeo and Juliet but want to learn about some different twists to the well-known tale, you might like this. Unfortunately to this book snob, all that "hissing" and "moaning" ruined it for me.
Monday, May 13, 2013
Monday Musings
I can't think of a single thing in my life/house/calling that doesn't need attention. Everything needs to be done. The whole house could use a big ol' decluttering and spring cleaning. My church bag overwhelms me and is so disorganized with visual aids for various songs stuffed in and my newly acquired laminator sits on the counter, unopened, because I haven't found the time or energy to figure out how to use it. My children have yearbook orderforms and buy-one-get-one-free bookfairs slips to fill out and the yard...oh my goodness. I thought this was my year with Daniel loving being outside and all, to finally get outside and have flowers and less weeds. I might get some of this stuff done if I had any free time but I have convinced myself that I do not so it all remains in the pressure cooker of my brain....ready to explode at any minute.
Except, I do have moments of free time. They are just so random and in such small chunks that I waste them playing some dumb game like bejeweled blitz on my phone instead of spending those 20 minutes on my closet or pantry or dirt encrusted windows. While I sat for the first time of the day thinking, "my kids will be home in 30 minutes" while mindlessly arranging orange and blue and yellow "gems" into groups of 3, I thought, "This is when you should blog." I played for a few more minutes because how can I organize all of....this....into something that is readable and then decided that was setting the bar too high. This is going to be pure stream of consciousness.
One thing that has kept me busier than usual is that I am co-head of the elementary school talent show. It isn't really a big deal except for the time it takes to get it organized. Friday, the other mom in charge and I spent 3 hours at the school listening to auditions and talking about what the show will be like this year. We only had 16 acts and all of them prepared enough to accept so we decided to make it fun for the kids and post a list rather than simply announcing on afternoon announcements that all who auditioned made it. The principle thought it was a little bit cruel to send the kids home for the weekend without knowing but we thought it'd be fun for them to come to school Monday morning, see their name on a big, glittery list, and proudly walk around the halls all day as a reward for their courage and talent.
Well...that was the ideal. The less than ideal is leaving a 3rd grader off the list! It was completely my fault although I will place part of the blame on my co-chair as her notes were jumbled and hard to read and his name was easy to miss. But, his name was on there and I made final list and so when the teacher emailed us and said, "What the heck?!" as the poor boy was distraught at not making the talent show, I had to bust a move to fix the list, drive out there, repost and send a personal note of apology to the boy (who had a GREAT talent, by the way) that I was sorry. Little things like that can send my day into a tailspin. Thankfully, Jay is home today so I was able to fix it without having to wake Daniel up from his nap and deal with a grouchy, under rested toddler for the rest of the day.
Mother's Day is also floating around in my head. My cleaners came this morning and asked the expected, "How was your mother's day?" question to which I replied, "It was ok." Because it was. But, it wasn't the day that apparently gets posted about on Instagram and Facebook.
I don't know how I feel about Mother's Day. I think the naysayers who say it is a purely Hallmark creation and has no place at church are wrong. As a church who believes families are essential to the plan of salvation and motherhood a divine institution, I think it not only belongs in sacrament meeting but should probably not be limited to a once-a-year event. I understand their grievances, even if I feel like they have become trite and overused. Yes, speakers can sometimes wax nostalgic and emotional about their own specific mothers or wives and I agree that those kinds of talks might not be especially suited for Sacrament Meeting. But, they do have their place. Perhaps the speakers aren't fantastic at intellectualizing their thoughts and experiences and extending their memories or stories to serve as a teaching tool or warning. Like talks every week, I believe it is mostly our experience to take something away from the prepared messages. The bitter I'm-not-going-to-church-on-mother's-day excuse is pride in disguise. You're infertile? You have a horrible relationship with your mother? Your child no longer comes to church? Your husband left you? You resent motherhood? You didn't get breakfast in bed? The common denominator in every one of those phrases is "you" and therein is both the problem and the solution. Just take back the day. Be grateful to be a mother or for your mother or for the beautiful babies that depend on mothers risking their health and bodies to exist, whether that is a child of a friend or a niece or some gorgeous brown eyed creation you flirted with in Guatemala years ago.
As for all of the hoopla and brag fests, I admit it is hard not to be jealous. Past experience has taught me the simple rule to keep expectations low and to truly concentrate on being a mother and not thinking the day means I don't have to mother. My husband is great but he went and fed cows in the morning while I made cinnamon rolls and eggs and bacon for the bread intolerant. I had to leave the house early to fulfill some volunteer duties for the dumb local soccer tournament held in town over the weekend which required my purchasing some ice at Walmart. Then, I had to set up my singing time and get my visual aids in order (see note above about their state in my bag) for the mother's day medley in sacrament meeting. When we got home, the boys came out of the bedroom with gifts including some hideous crocs (they are orange and blue and white so in addition to being ugly because they are crocs, they are particularly nasty. But, it was a funny joke gift from Jay because I always steel his black crocs to wear in the mornings), two books (The Great Gatsby and Catcher in the Rye) for my personal library and a really cool leather bracelet. Henry made me a sweet homemade card at school and a beautiful hand painted picture with a poem in art. Thank goodness for elementary schools helping mothers everywhere receive priceless gifts! After that was all done, we went to Vaughn and Patty's house for dinner and even though it was great not to cook, we stayed a lot longer than I imagined we would waiting for their missionary son's phone call. I had that brief moment of, "I'm not going to get to take a nap/blog/go for a walk" mental whine and then got over it. I played with Daniel outside, let him cover himself with dirt in their garden, and then, once home, got him bathed and in bed. By this time, it was close to 8 pm and Seth asked me if I had any desire to rekindle my scrapbook hobby. This weird request meant he had an enormous Language Arts project due that involved making a scrapbook about a historical figure and I spent the next 3 hours helping him with that, trying my very best not to be resentful.
So, when the cleaners asked me how my mother's day went, I responded, "It was o.k" which it was. Then I got a lecture about how I need to train them all to cook for me and clean up and how to shop for what I wanted and blah-de-blah-blah-blah-blah and so...yeah, I don't quite know what to think about Mother's Day. I know I love being a Mother, even though it is hard and not really what I'm best at, and i know that I love my mother and I know that God loves mothers and I know that we have been commanded to honor mothers so...I guess I'm a fan of Mother's Day. I just want everyone else to stop being so gloaty or depressed about it. That's all. :)
Well...time's up. I hope this time was better spent than seeing if I can beat my score of 688,700 (I play WAY too much). Maybe some pictures next time!
Thursday, May 09, 2013
Privately Pinging
I knew this would happen. This utter lethargic writing response to going private. Part of it is that I'm still mad. Having defended my desire to continue public blogging for years, I'm annoyed at imagining any "I told you so"s. Part of it is also the sadness that comes when you realize certain people you hoped were friends either don't want to continue reading your blog or check it so infrequently that they don't even know you are private after nearly 2 weeks. Whatever. Being that needy and insecure is unattractive. I'd like to simply chop off that personality flaw. Part of it is that I also feel almost claustrophobic with a private blog. Like putting your cold head underneath your bed covers, it's cozy and comforting for about 30 seconds and then...well...I need air!
Still, it's nice to be away from certain eyes. There were a few readers that I knew visited my blog (hello...statcounter) but would always pretend that they didn't and now they can't anymore. Na na na na na na. Oh my gosh, there is another unattractive flaw exposed. This private business is bringing out all sorts of my worst. I promise to improve.
Now, about statcounter. That is the name of the website. If you blog, I do recommend putting one onto your blog and not simply relying on whatever "stats" blogger provides. Statcounter isn't perfect but if someone reads my blog on my website, and not with a reader (there's the loophole) I can see the visit. Additionally, if they click on a link, in particular, a picture, that registers as well. After I noticed the weird activity, my SIL called me and through comparing notes on browsers, time of visits and location, my creeper was creeping her as well. My sister didn't notice this same visitor but did notice by checking, something she didn't usually do, that a porn site had linked to her blog and she had gotten some visits from there. These are the kinds of activities that you do want to monitor. For 7 years....7 years, I have not noticed anything alarming. I have never minded visits from people I don't know. I always figure they are friends of friends or family of family and I'm a sharer. Read away. A few people I didn't know sent emails asking to continue to read and I'm glad they did. I'm sorry I forced you out of your shell. I assure you, it was not you I was concerned about.
Now, hopefully, I'll get back into the groove and start blogging again. I do have to jot down Seth's hilarious response when I shared with him what was going on. You'll recall that we had a big blow up on the evening of his track meet and his disappearance into the school without telling me. Poor Jay, in an attempt to smooth things over between us, went up to his room to talk to him about answering his phone and texts from us more promptly, saw a bunch of food wrappers and equally blew up at Seth. We have (try to have) a strict "NO FOOD" policy in bedrooms. I think it is gross. Seth does and has ignored us. I have tried fining him, giving him punishing chores, curfewing his eating all to no avail. It bothers me so much that he always says, "OK" when we holler and then continues to sneak food to his room. Seriously, it makes me want to chain our cupboards and refrigerator. But, that is not the point of this paragraph. My point is, after Jay's blowup, I felt really bad that he was sitting upstairs in his room interpreting all our criticism and loud voices into feeling that both his parents really couldn't stand him. I went upstairs and he lay on his bed with his back turned to me. I sat next to him and started to explain why I had freaked out. I told him about the strange visits on this blog and the alarming number of hits on pictures of him. He listened quietly and then deadpanned, "Maybe it was my science teacher." I burst out laughing (his science teacher strikes us both as kind of scary as she has a perpetual smile on her face. Neither of us trust someone who always smiles) and he said, "No, seriously. The other day, I noticed that she had a picture of me holding Daniel cut out from our Christmas card which I had taken to school and kept in my binder. It must have fallen out onto the floor and she said it was so cute that she wanted to keep it but didn't have room in the frame (I am having a hard time picturing what this picture must be contained in because his description doesn't match a frame) so she cut out Sam and Henry."
I'm glad he was able to laugh it all off and really glad that we ended the night as friends.
Well...there you go. Sending off this post feels a bit like hitting a ball in a racquetball court. It doesn't really feel like it is going anywhere but back to me. I've never been very good at racquetball (too much physics) but picture me with a terry cloth headband, goggles and racquet, ready to play.
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
Ruining A Good Thing
I may have overreacted when missing Seth get off the bus after last Thursday's track meet.
We had been texting each other for an hour about his track meet so he obviously had his phone. I had also received a text only 5 minutes before they pulled into the parking lot of the middle school saying he was sorry Daniel was being so fussy after I texted him to hustle so that I could get Daniel out of his carseat and into bed. That is why when it seemed every single kid got off the bus and walked over to their parents' cars and there was no Seth, I was flabbergasted. Where was he?
I got on the now empty bus when the parking lot started to empty and told the bus driver that my child was not there. He informed me that they did make one stop earlier, about a 10 minute drive east of the middle school, to accommodate families that lived out there from having to drive all the way into the school. Even though I had never heard about that optional drop-off and Seth hadn't texted me in his last text that he had gotten off, my mind raced that maybe he thought he was making my life easier by getting off there instead. I called his phone. No answer. I called it again. No answer. I texted him. No response. The worst feeling spread throughout my inside. I screeched out of that parking lot like a mother possessed.
You see, earlier in the week, I noticed some odd behavior on my blog statcounter. Someone with an IP address in Riverton, Utah visited my blog. Normally, a Utah address wouldn't even get an eye bat but this particular visitor had like 80 hits in one hour. I followed the trail of hyperlinks to see what was so interesting to this visitor to not only visit but to click on picture after picture after picture.
They were all pictures of Seth.
I knew something was off but tried not to panic. Even though I don't know anyone in Riverton, Utah, I wondered if it might be an old friend of mine who knew Seth when he was younger and was interested in his growth and age progression. But, that didn't seem right. Why wouldn't someone like that leave a comment or click on other pictures, like ones which include me or any of the other kids?
The same visitor visited again the next evening and the behavior was the same. A long visit with lots of hits - 90% of them pictures of Seth. This was a week ago and I've been totally blog paralyzed. Some creep is stalking Seth.
I suppose that's where my mind led me on Thursday. I imagined him getting off a bus and someone either grabbing him or persuading him to get in a car. The day before, the local newspaper had an article about draining a lake in search of the body of a missing 13 year-old boy who disappeared last Thanksgiving and has never been found. In the dark, I raced 20 mph faster than the posted speed limit to get to that other drop-off, all the while redialing Seth's cell phone. Once, as I flew up the highway, my phone alerted me to a call from him. I answered and it was mute. We were connected but I got no response. I was screaming into the phone by this time, shouting, "WHERE ARE YOU?!" and "PLEASE SAY SOMETHING!" and Sam and Henry started to cry. I wish I could have acted more calmly for their scared little sakes but I felt terrified and couldn't deny it. Finally, about a minute before I arrived at where I hoped/wished/thought he might be, I got another call from him.
"Mom?"
"WHERE ARE YOU?!"
"I'm at the school waiting for you. Where are you?"
The rest of the conversation didn't go so well.
I was relieved but I was also freaked-out angry. Seth is nothing if not hyper sensitive to criticism and yelling and he shut down. Apparently, he got off the bus and went right into the school to change out of his track clothes and back into his school clothes. None of the other athletes did this so I have no idea why he so urgently needed to change without word or text to me and the way the bus had pulled up to the school and where I was parked, I did not see him do this. I imagine he was too busy changing to pick up any of my 20 calls or he had his phone on silent or...who knows. I was relieved. I am relieved. It is horrible to imagine the worst thing possible.
And I don't think I would have, at least not so immediately and emotionally, had Riverton, Utah not already put me on high alert. For this reason I say, "Riverton. You suck!"
Whoever this person is visited again two nights ago and did the same exact thing and I am done. I have no desire to post anything other than an angry wish that this person would show some sense and decency and either tell me who you are and why you find Seth so fascinating or go away. Far away. Either way, there will be no more open posts about any of my kids. There will be no more open posts of any kind. I'm making my blog private and maybe I'll blog again. But maybe not. I am really disturbed and angry.
My sister said it best when I told her about this. She said, "Wow. One person really can ruin a good thing." She's right. Blogging has been such a joy and "good thing" for me. I have made incredible friends. I have shared and thought and learned and become a better writer and created a personal history and I don't want to stop. But, now I do. Because a threat has ruined something I loved. I have no peace of mind anymore. I just can't imagine any reason that isn't creepy why one person would repeatedly visit a blog and peruse pictures of my 13 year-old son.
Thinking about the horrific events in Boston two weeks ago have made me flip/flop several times about this decision. On the one hand, I want to defy the personal terror. I won't let one disturbing person take away a hobby I enjoy! On the other hand, it is really dumb for me as a parent to ignore this. I do have that IP address, however and after seeing the swift and able detective work when it came to pictures and technology, I am warning you, creep, that you can be identified. So quit it. Be a better person.
If, perhaps, it is you who have been looking at pictures of Seth and you have a legitimate reason for doing so and you are embarrassed by my manifesto, please let me know. I will try to be reasonable.
For other readers of mine, I love you. I do. I am so glad you have visited my blog and let me share to an audience, which always made things more interesting for me. You can email me if you'd like to continue reading and I know and trust you or even if I don't know you but trust you. lucyhj4302@gmail.com
Riverton, Utah: You are not invited.
Adieu.
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
Book Review #12 - The Round House
Having only read Erdich's book, Shadow Tag, previously, my expectations were low and cautious as I began her National Book Award winner The Round House. I'm glad I tried again because The Round House is pretty worthy of its hype. I didn't love it because I felt it unnecessarily crude at times as well as curiously infuriating but there is no denying the craftsmanship of the writing - from the weaving of a mystery, coming of age and folklore - to its scope of highlighting the unique problems of the Native American tribal justice. Even though it fell short of becoming a favorite of mine, reading this book brought light to ignorance and made me care about fictitious characters, hallmarks of worthy books, in my opinion.
As for my gripes, the protaganist, Joe, is a 13 year old boy who sometimes seems 13, sometimes 8 and sometimes 20. I know that age can be difficult to capture. Heck, I have a 13 year old so I get it. But his behavior was so peculiar and unpredictable. Still, his world was ripped apart with the violent crime against his mother and the stress and tension it created within his once peaceful home. There were many times throughout the novel that I felt irritated and impatient with Erdich for taking me on another teenage escapade filled with all the language and crassness of boys in groups. Those events eventually contribute to the heartbreaking finale but it was not very pleasant to be repeatedly treated to what a boy thinks about breasts, dirt bikes, beer and food. Maybe I'd have given this book five stars had Erdich's 13 year old been a bit more virtuous:-)
This is compelling literature about contemporary Native American life. It corrected more than one stereotype of mine. Rich with symbolism, this is the kind of book that should be read.
Saturday, April 20, 2013
A right on Hereford, and a left on Boylston:A Letter About Boston
Written by Jay and posted with permission
April 16, 2013.
A letter to my boys:
So that someday you will understand…
A right on Hereford, and a left on Boylston…
On Monday, April 15, 2013, I changed why I run.
On that day, terrorists detonated homemade bombs on the sidewalks of Boylston Street as runners finished the Boston Marathon. The bombs were planted near the finish line, and were designed to inflict the most damage on innocent spectators and contestants.
The second of two bombs exploded directly across the street from where your mom, Seth and Sam stood three years ago, cheering me on to my first Boston finish.
I have had a love affair with the Boston marathon for nearly my whole life. I read about the heroics of Alberto Salazar winning when I was only 8 years old. Every year, I read with increasing interest and stronger desires to join the throng on the hallowed streets from Hopkinton to Boston.
I first tried to qualify in 1998, but fell short. I tried again in 1999, but was even slower. I gave up marathon running, deciding that a Boston run was not in my future, and focused instead on starting my family and completing medical school and residency.
After 14 years of training, three boys, some disheartening personal experiences and two frustrating illnesses, I started running seriously again. I ran to restore some dignity in my personal life.
Sam, your shock at learning that I had run a marathon before was a big motivation. I wanted you to SEE me run a marathon. And remember it.
That soon changed. I wanted you to see me run BOSTON, and remember it. I trained longer and faster and harder. I know it took away time from you. But I was stricken with a Boston fever.
I was thrilled, and relieved, in the fall of 2009, when I qualified for Boston by several minutes. Finally, a major life goal achieved!!! Charles River, here I come. Boylston Street, here I come.
Running my first Boston marathon in 2010 was almost an out of body experience. I tried to soak the whole experience in. Scenes play back in my mind like a trailer for a personal movie. Riding the bus to Hopkinton, and waiting for the gun to fire at the starting line across from the little white church. The biker gang in front of the bar (there is nothing better than being cheered on by heavily bearded and tattooed men and women (yes, bearded women) in leather chaps)! To the shrieking tunnel of college girls in front of Wellesley College with their signs screaming “Kiss Me” (okay, I did sneak a peck on the cheek of one girl – because I thought I might not ever get another chance, and I’d regret it if I didn’t. She wasn’t anywhere near as good looking as your mom, though!). To the right hand turn at the Lower Newton Falls Fire Station, and starting up the first of not one, but three separate Heartbreak Hills that ascend Newton. Cresting as I ran by Boston College, being heavily cheered by heavily drunk college guys (these guys are way to drunk for 11 AM). Descending into Brookline, and finally seeing that CITGO sign in the distance. Seeing it, but never quite reaching it. Seeing it and knowing that it is at mile 24. When is that sign going to get here? Who put up that stupid sign, anyway? Is that really the right sign? And then finally passing the sign, crossing under the highway, and then the most blessed two turns in all of distance running:
A RIGHT ON HEREFORD, AND A LEFT ON BOYLSTON
Turns so sacred that they actually sell t-shirts with those words printed on the back. Turns where the sound of the crowd actually seems to lift you off of your feet and push you from behind towards the finish line. Cheering, clapping, bells ringing. It is like the whole world is there to watch you finish.
And unlike almost every other sporting event, there are no boos. No catcalls. No references to new glasses for the referees. No wishing that the other guy will fall or fail. No jeering. No negativity. Strangers running with strangers clasp hands because you did it. Stronger finishers encourage the injured. Signs everywhere explode with messages of inspiration. Go mom. Go dad. Go son. Go Bill or Jane or Frederico.
It is just your cramping calves, twitching hamstrings, and tens of thousands of Bostonians, Americans and foreigners propelling you to finish. How anyone can run down Boylston Street with dry eyes is a mystery to me.
Tears were already flowing when I saw you with your mom in front of Lord and Taylor’s. Yes, that Lord and Taylor’s. The one across the street from the second bomb. Seeing you, hugging you and giving you a high five made every one of those previous 26 miles worth it. Reuniting with you after the finish line, with that heavy metal around my neck, made me proud to be your dad. And I think you were a little bit proud of me. I hoped that you would always remember that day. And that your dad finished Boston. And that Boylston Street is a special place. A place to be revered and treasured. A place unlike any other in the world.
I went back to Boston in 2011, but without my personal fan club to cheer me one. Because I was alone, I noticed even more than before, how much the people of Boston and surrounding areas supported the marathon runners. The number of spectators is amazing. The cheering is continuous and incessant for 26.2 miles. The signs, extra water bottles, messages written on the road in chalk; everything about the race screams loudly how much Boston loves their marathon. And how much the marathoners love Boston. I think it was that crowd that pushed me onward. Onward to break 3 hours for the first time. Another goal I thought I might never achieve.
That is why what happened on April 15, 2013, was such a shock and personal devastation to me. I was crushed for the people of Boston. Crushed for the race that I love. But disturbed that someone or someones wanted to change the most special street in Boston. Someone wanted to take Boylston Street from us.
And Boylston Street is a special street. There have been more cheers on that street than perhaps any other. Personal triumphs, joyful reunions, tearful struggles, people helping strangers, dogged determination, fist-pumping elation, and weary completion are all witnessed on Boylston Street. Everything that is positive about humanity is found there. And none of the negative.
Until last Monday. When two bombs blew the innocence and joy of Boylston Street almost off the map. Almost.
Tragically, those terrible bombs did end the lives of three. Martin Richard, age 8, reminds me in many ways of you boys. Smiling. Wearing an Under Armour hoodie. Cheering on strangers running by, because that is what you do on Boylston Street.
Krystle Campbell, age 29, was there to cheer on friends, like she had done almost every year since she was a little girl.
And Lu Lingzi, a graduate student from China at Boston University studying math and statistics, there with friends just to take in the spectacle that is Boylston Street.
All three had their bright futures tragically dimmed.
As I went to bed Monday night, before I knew all of the details we later discovered, I thought to myself, “I need to go back to Boylston. My kids need to go back to Boylston”.
The next morning, your mom said to me, “I think you should run Boston again next year.”
I checked the website. My last marathon in Denver still meets the Boston qualifying standards by 5 minutes. Registration opens up in September. I have until then to try for a better qualifying time so that I can increase my chances of making it in. I’m going to give it everything I’ve got so that next year I can make…
A RIGHT ON HEREFORD, AND A LEFT ON BOYLSTON
I hope you will be there to cheer me on. On Boylston Street. By the Lord and Taylor’s. And I hope that you soak in the cheers. The American flags that I’m sure will be waving. The Boston t-shirts. The Red Sox jackets. The positive wave of humanity crushing the weak will of terrorism. The triumph of runner, spectator, official as we complete another Boston.
I’ll be thinking of you as I climb Heartbreak Hill(s). But my heart won’t be breaking. I know you’ll be on Boylston Street. Cheering on the elite winners, surrounded by strength. Because I know that we are strong. Our family is strong. Our country is strong. Our faith is strong.
This world might be scary at times. There are people that do things that we don’t understand. There are evil people that try to rob our innocence and steal our victories. There are places to avoid. Places to be scared. Places to wonder if we’ll make it back.
But Boylston Street is not that place. And I will not let terrorists or anyone else turn such a positive place into a place that should be feared or shunned.
And so, now, I run for Boylston Street. Next year, we will return to claim that street back. I’ll run down it. You’ll stand on the sidewalk among strangers and feel confidence, not fear. You’ll hear cheers, not boos. We’ll claim it back for runners. For cheerleaders. For supporters. For friends. For families. For the Johnsons. For Boston. For America. For all that is good in humanity.
A RIGHT ON HEREFORD, AND A LEFT ON BOYLSTON!!!
Thursday, April 18, 2013
Book Review #11 - To Say Nothing of the Dog
Sometimes, not always and not really all that often, I read a book without reading the book jacket summary or anything about it on Goodreads. For some reason, perhaps the small print on this small paperback, I simply relied that it was a favorite of a friend of mine, was reportedly funny (I love funny books) and its title and author seemed British. It's a horrible and undoubtedly untrue stereotype but there is something inherently more "classy" about a British comedy compared to an American one.
Why in the world I assumed Connie Willis was a British male I have no idea, but it turns out SHE is American, born and living in Colorado and is a major science fiction author. These realizations set me back a bit when I learned that To Say Nothing of the Dog involved time travel, a whole lot of details about historical wars, literature I had not read and an exhausting, book long search for a repeatedly described bird stump that I still could never accurately visualize or imagine because I have no idea what a bird stump is. It was set in Great Britain so maybe I need to add to my flawed sterotype that brits put things weird and ugly things for birds to land on inside their great cathedrals. Whether this adds to their class or humor, I have no idea.
Regardless of my ignorance, I still found this story to be complex, engaging, confusing, entertaining and very, very funny. I loved the characters - extreme and one sided as Willis portrayed them. It's not a particularly easy book to read and I admit that reading a few summaries would have helped a great deal in my ability to get into this book at its beginning but I'm glad I read it. Combine Back To The Future with Time Traveler's Wife and you'll be head scratching and smiling at the same time.
Book Review #10 - Where You'd Go, Bernadette?
I saw this in paperback at Sam's Club the other day and realized it must have become an "it" book. I remembered that I loved it and that, so far, almost no one that I know that has read it since has liked it nearly as well as I did and so I wanted to come back and defend or at least explain my "it was amazing" rating.
I think every once in a while, a book comes a long that just resonates with certain readers. Maybe it's the message that rings true or a character that helps us understand ourselves or someone else a little better. Whatever it is, there was a connection between myself and this book and an almost electric current ran between my hands and its pages while I read.
I think it likely due to the fact that this woman, Bernadette, saw the ridiculous all around her. Sure, a cheery person will see Bernadette's point of view as critical and unhelpful, but I felt myself nodding and laughing when she described the overzealousness and competitiveness of school mom volunteers, the futility of cooking and shopping, the absurdity of living in Seattle - from its weather, streets, architecture, hair care, language, diet, style and recreation , the prejudice of loving your own child above all the rest and the simultaneously hilarious and depressing awareness of knowing you are the biggest problem of all.
As far as plots go...whatever. I didn't read this to find out what happened to Bernadette the day her husband staged an intervention to commit her to a mental hospital and she disappeared. The plausibility of sneaking onto ships in Antarctica and a fifteen year old solving it all isn't very likely. As far as uplifting material goes...I get that it's dark. Bernadette really is suffering and it's undoubtedly unfair to laugh at/with a woman who on good days hides dirty dishes in drawers and on bad days causes full on mudslides which result in the destruction of her annoying neighbor's house.
In spite of my awareness that this book won't be everybody's cup of delicious hot cocoa, I found the satire, writing, pacing, morale, and, above all, character of Bernadette to be the most fun I've read in a while. Maria Semple - I think you get me. I'm glad I'm not nearly as crazy as Bernadette but I'm so glad I got to vent a little bit through her. No worries though, if this isn't your thing. You you read this, you'll see the humor in that last sentence. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
Spring Break 2013
Like a lot of people in the western United States, our spring break was much colder than we had hoped it would be. Originally, I had grand designs for our week off but once I started considering money, single parenting, and just plain ol' effort, I scaled way back and decided to simply stick around in Utah for a few days. It was fun but it was cold! I'm not one of those people who hates the cold. I appreciate winter in its time and place but I did not want 30 degree temps in April.
I should have been more ambitious with our daily activities but sometimes it feels like we have played tourist in the Salt Lake Area too many times. I opted against doing Temple Square and museums are a nightmare with a one year old so that left me with what I thought were plenty of "amusement" type places like trampoline parks and arcades. Sadly, a lot of those places don't open until 3 or 4 in the afternoon which surprised me considering the number of schools in the area that participate in a year-round schedule as well as a larger than average number who home school. None of that research was discovered until later Monday morning which left us with shopping. Ugh.
I am not a shopper but I do think it's fun to get good deals. In my head, I had thought we'd start with the boys, get their needs and wants taken care of and then I could hit Kohls and Old Navy and maybe even a church distribution center. Things didn't go well at our first stop, Scheels. Why any company wants to spend that kind of money on real estate, heating and lighting to sell sports equipment is beyond me. I predict that business will go under in less than a decade. None of my kids wanted to ride the ferris wheel. Sam and Henry had a fun enough time in the climbing area with Daniel but they can do that in McDonalds, for crying out loud. Seth and I started to argue about what I was and was not going to buy. Honestly, that boy worries me with how much he likes to shop and spend on silly sports stuff. How many socks do you really need? It all started with a difference of opinion about basketball shorts and escalated over some KD Nike wear and we eventually left the shop without him getting anything and he didn't speak to me for the rest of the day. Fun!
I abandoned all further shopping plans and sought refuge at my SIL Kelly's house and visited with her and my mother in law for a few hours. Sam got a sleep over with his cousin, Matt, and the other boys and I went back to my sisters' place for dinner and the NCAA championship game. Sarah and I missed the first half because we went to a fabulous Zumba class (most fun I've ever had. It wasn't even working out even though I was dying of sweat and shortness of breath. I just felt like a latin dancing goddess as long as I didn't look in the mirror). We got back home in time to see the second half and Seth apologized to me for his earlier behavior. I have a feeling Aunt Maureen had some words with him:)
This is a funny video if you know Seth. Sarah and I had just finished doing our one minute plank which has been a daily goal, and Seth started talking smack and so I challenged him to do a five minute plank. He said he'd do it for five dollars and after our rough day, I thought it'd be good to be friends again. Plus...five dollars! He could buy something without asking me! (He ended up losing the five dollars sometime the next day. Sigh). Anyways, you have to watch the last 10 seconds. Seth's last line is perfect, even if his plank form is not (the first two minutes, he was much more flat as a board. But, I remember my trainer always telling me if you need to "rest" during your plank, to point your butt up rather than go down on your knees. So, I used the same criteria for Seth).
I knew Day 2 couldn't be as painful as Day 1 so after picking Sam up at Matt's house, I told Kelly that we were going to go to Boondocks, an amusement place with laser tag, arcade games, go carts, mini golf etc, and she came with us which made it so much more fun for my kids. We stayed there for hours and even though it was a form of auditory torture for me and still too cold for the kids to enjoy any of the outdoor activities, I felt like a more successful Spring Break Mom.
It was Twelve Buck Tuesday so all the arcade games were free with that admission price. I didn't pay that for Daniel but since all you had to do was press "start" on these types of games, he got to actually play instead of just sit on the chair. I think it kind of freaked him out when the steering wheel started to shake.
These four boys had a lot of fun. I wish I could have seen them play laser tag together, which they did 4 different times. Even Sara went to play with them.
Kelly was a basketball star back in her high school days so she and Seth had some fun competitions. Annoyingly, these games were not included in the $12 admission price so I had to buy tokens as well. It was pretty much the only game Seth wanted to play.
But, Sam wanted to play too.
Henry played the smaller version.
This isn't a very clear picture but Kate was adorable with Daniel. She took him to the top of the climbing structure several times so he could slide down the slide. This is them coming down. You can see Daniel on his stomach. Kate and Sara both have such fun personalities and they both exhibit sides of their mom. Kate seemed to inherit her mother's love of nurturing and mothering, and Sara is all of the spitfire and spunk and daring, which is totally Kelly as well.
That night was the main attraction: a Utah Jazz versus Oklahoma City Thunder basketball game. Maureen kept Henry and Daniel with her and took them to Carl's Jr., which, in Henry's mind, was just as fun for them, and Sarah, Sam, Seth and I went to the game. It was a really fun night. We cheered for the Thunder, which made us a tad less popular with the crowd, but it was really fun to see Kevin Durant play. I am not an NBA fan. Before this year, I haven't watched a game in at least a decade. But, it's something to care about what your kids care about and both Sam and Seth love basketball and know who all these players are and why they are good and I could see it. Durant is really good. He seems like a good guy too. I hope he continues to be. Having sports figures be your kids' role models seems a sure set up for future disappointment but so far, so good.
We got there plenty early to seem the team come out from the tunnel but, as you can tell from my picture, we didn't really have the best spots.
Warm ups. That's KD shooting a jump shot.
I had to beg and plead to convince Seth to take this picture. KD is sitting on the bench during part of warm ups and I really wanted one of them in the same picture. Seth thought I was being lame.
How a 6 ft 9 guy can be so good at dribbling, shooting, passing, rebounding etc is quite remarkable.
Somebody's going to get that rebound. Westbrook got it.
KD drives to the basket.
Aunt Sarah and Seth.
Me and my boys.
One of the few dunks. This was not a very explosive game.
Time out
Day 3 was supposed to be spent playing in Moab. I drive through Moab about 8 times a year and I never stop! Maybe at the Wendy's or Maverick station but I see all these people who make it their destination and I wanted to say, "We've done that!" So, I had planned on a family hike in Arches and a Jeep Tour later on but it was so cold! 47 degrees as we drove through so we cancelled it all. Drove right on through. Didn't even stop for a refreshing beverage. Someday, I am determined to "go to Moab" but not yet. It's got to be warmer than that for me to brave hiking with 4 kids.
We were home for the rest of the week. Seth's birthday was on Day 4 and I've already posted about that and Days 5 and 6 were really spent doing yard work. So, it probably won't go down as the most fun Spring Break ever but it'll do. We all literally had a break from our routines in the spring so, technically, it counts:)
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
A Two-Wheel Rider
Poor Henry. He's been wanting to try his bike without training wheels for at least a year but he always seemed to mention it when Jay was gone or at the end of the day. Saturday turned into the perfect day for Henry to finally get his wish. Jay took the training wheels off and it was much scarier than he imagined. It took lots of persuading and energetic cheerleading to get him to try again after that first scary fall but he committed to trying ten times and he did it. He's still not fully independent but I'm used to Henry's way of learning to be just a bit slower than his older brothers. Those training wheels are off now and he'll be riding with confidence in no time.
Dad gets him steady. I know. He should be wearing a helmet. Jay and I both said the same thing but Henry could not find it and...well...if he didn't try it right then then who knows how long it would be until the next time we were all ready and willing to give it a shot.
Dad's got his back.
Then he lets go!
And he's riding!
Until he forgets to pedal and the bike tips over.
Those crashes can hurt.
But we always try again. Big brother Sam shows how fun it can be.
Little brother, Daniel, only wishes he were part of the fun. And that his mom would dress him. Hey...sometimes, it's just whisky tango around here.
Later that afternoon, Sam and Seth got the job of stacking firewood from the trees Jay had chopped down or pruned.
They took turns throwing the logs from the truck while the other stacked.
Having boys is pretty fun.
Monday, April 15, 2013
Fifty Reasons To Celebrate
Even though Jay's parents celebrated their 50th anniversary last July, babies being born, missionaries leaving, holidays, church responsibilities and the winter season postponed us logistically gathering until this April. For one reason or another, general conference weekend was the best weekend to meet and Utah seemed the most central place. It was weird to not watch conference (some did. I plan on catching up this week via DVR) but I think with most of our spring breaks either falling the week before or the week after conference, it was the best option. All but five of the grandchildren were in attendance, making our total number 36 for the weekend.
A mansion/castle/largest log cabin in the entire United States was rented (who builds these things?) and the seven offspring of Vaughn and Karen started arriving Friday afternoon and evening. There were thirteen bedrooms and fifteen bathrooms so there was plenty of space to spread out. The younger kids were immediately drawn to the indoor pool while the older teens congregated around the billiards table. The adults mingled in between repeatedly getting lost trying to find our ways to and from our bedrooms.
I actually took this shot of Seth catching a football thrown by Uncle Jerry from our bedroom which had a window to the pool. The kids loved it and it was definitely a huge perk to the house but my water loving Daniel couldn't stay away from it and that is stressful for a mom who isn't used to being a helicopter parent. Every time I couldn't find Daniel, I would imagine him drowning in the pool but I was blessed with the help of a lot of other adults and cousins and Daniel was always safe. Always wandering but always safe.
Henry and Ethan would have been happy to stay in the pool all day.
Erin was a sweetheart and took Daniel swimming.
Darren, Reece and Adam shoot some pool.
Watching something on the mega TV. Probably baseball or NCAA basketball games.
We had late nights. The normal bedtime for both nights was well past midnight, even for the kids, and I was quite a bore past ten. Daniel slept well the entire weekend but still woke up both days before 7 and that makes for some long hours of wakefulness. It helped that we really had ample time to simply sit around, relax, chat, swim, eat, watch videos, and play.
It was really too cold to play outside but a few dared the frigid temps to get a ride in this massive tire swing.
It swung over the edge of the mountain top.
Timber Moose Lodge. This pic really only shows about 1/3 of the house. There are all sorts of angles and rooms in there but this big room above the covered porch housed a bouncy house inside of it. I only went up there once and didn't bring my camera but it was a huge room that was perfect for the kids to play in.
We saw an actual moose wandering about. Aptly named cabin.
Jay and Daniel in the swing.
Karen gets a push from two of her sons, Jay and Clark.
Go, Karen!
Sweet Caden patiently waited for a turn.
From the front entrance. There were so many places to sit and visit but we all kind of stuck to this large front room. I love how sweet Patty is being with Henry here.
Kelly and her baby, Abby.
Creed in the kitchen.
Uncle Matt and Seth.
Delanie, Erin and Thomas look at pictures while waiting for food.
Buffet lines were the norm for meal time.
The dining area was great. There were four of these large, circular booths and one large table so we could all eat together.
Every time I'm around Erin, she is planning or organizing something. Here, she is preparing a skit for the evening talent show.
Karen is a major inspiration to me. She completed life scrap books for each of her children and brought them to the reunion. The pages were filled with pictures, newspaper clippings, letters, awards, certificates, report cards. She has been working on them for years and it was so fun to sit and look through them. She has dedicated her life to the raising of her children and you can see by each ones' accomplishments that her efforts paid off. She and Vaughn have been excellent parents and even though we were honoring their marriage and the devotion, sacrifice and love they have shared for the past 50 years, it seems impossible to separate out the results of that partnership: their children and the families each of them has in turn created. All of the memories made me hope for Jay's and my future 50th celebration.
I believe Vaughn and Karen had a great time. My favorite moment of the entire weekend was the very first night, right after Jay arrived (he had to work on Friday and so was the last to arrive. We drove separately) and all seven of the kids, plus most of the in-laws and older grandchildren played a game called Z-ball. The game looked like fun but instead of joining in, I watched Karen sitting nearby looking at her children and grandchildren laugh, taunt, play and giggle together. She had a smile on her face that glowed with an internal satisfaction. I looked at the game through her eyes and felt that joy that must come when you realize you have raised your children well.
This is a game called Z-ball. I don't understand the rules but one ball must be hit from the opposite side of the table from wherever the ball to be hit is located. Everyone who played had a great time and you can really see personalities in this short video.
Saturday evening was the designated celebration. We started off with a yummy BBQ dinner and then had a family talent show. The original idea was to have whoever wanted to participate perform a 90 second talent. They could be legitimate talents or silly talents or whatever you wanted. We chose to combine our minutes and sing a 50th anniversary rendition of Call Me Maybe with our own lyrics. We had a few technical difficulties (like Daniel pressing buttons in the middle of the song) but it turned out alright. Everyone got in the spirit of the evening and we had a costumed and choreographed version of Guitarzan, ballet, all the teams of the MLB listed off, a famous Kelly wiggle and an imitation of a horse, a fancy hand slapping routine, a reenactment of Studio C's Mafia skit, some air banjo, a group dance of twist and shout and some dinosaur sounds. My nephew, Doug, is a gifted and talented pianist and we listened to a beautiful performance of him playing Chopin via CD because there was no piano at the house. Vaughn and Karen ended the evening with a romantic dance. I really love this sort of stuff.
We don't actually start singing until 1 minute into the video if you want to fast forward to that part. I didn't bother editing.
Mafia skit. Thomas played someone attending a party for the first time and didn't realize that you don't actually kill anyone in the game. He felt horrible killing Brooke!:)
Vaughn was going to play a spoof about the legalization of marijuana in Colorado but kept it to air-banjoing instead.
I could not get a good shot of them dancing because the light was so terrible.
They kept getting further and further away from the light and you could see they had something up their sleeve by their grins.
They disappeared around the corner when the song ended.
When they came back, Vaughn's hair sure looks less tidy!
We finished the evening by eating the yummy anniversary cake.
We thought this was all of the grandchildren minus the missionaries (Scott, Derek, Michael and Jacob) and the young married, Karin and Ben. Clockwise from Karen: Karen, Matt, Vaughn, Doug, Daniel, Seth, Emily, Erin, Delanie, Thomas, Caden, Brooke, Henry, Ethan, Sara, Kate, Creed, Sam, Reece.
Henry and his buddy cousin, Ethan.
Then, we remembered the babies! Quinn and Abby joined the
Kelly ordered this cake from a bakery near her house.
The ceremonious first cut.
Vaughn still acts like a newly wed.
Patty and Matt chat after cake.
Stephanie, aka Jane from their GuiTarzan musical number, and baby Quinn.
Reece and Adam.
Jay's sister, Peggy.
Jay's brother, Rex, and baby Abby.
On paper, 36 hours seems a much too short length of time to be considered a legitimate reunion but it really was perfect. There wasn't enough time for anybody to get overworked, feel left out or hurt any feelings. No one got sick. No one got lost. No one went hungry (although one of my nephews wished there were vegetables to snack on. I need his healthy habits to rub off on my children!) Instead, each hour was spent remembering good times, creating new memories and honoring the legacy that comes with 50 years of family. I really, really hope we do it again. Soonish.
