Larynx vs Larnyx

This morning I stopped by the kids' school to watch the school Spelling Bee.  Emma was a contender.  If Abby hadn't been sick, she would've been too, but she had to stay home.

Anyway, I got there and poor Emma, who struggles with spelling in the first place, was given the word

Preferable

She asked for the word in a sentence and proceeded to spell.  Unfortunately, the bell dinged for her and she had to sit in the audience because she didn't get it right.

Ah, the memories!!

I was in the school Spelling Bee in 5th grade.  I won our class spelling bee and when the top few of us reported for the school's bee, one boy in my class came up to me and told me that HE was going to kick my behind when HE won.  Since he was a big jerk, I silently rooted against him.  Hey, not only was I 11, but he was always mean to me (one of the kids that called me names because of my birthmark).  I tried not to smirk when he misspelled one of his words.  (I still smirk at the memory.)

I spelled a few words right but then I got the word "Larynx".  The presenter said the word and I repeated it.  She said to me, "No.  Larynx."  I repeated it again and again she told me that I pronounced it incorrectly.  So then I tried to pronounce it larnyx.  Again, I was told I said it wrong.  What the heck?  I was pretty sure I knew how to spell it, but all this argument was confusing me.

Needless to say, I spelled the stupid word wrong.  Every so often I have the tendency to drawl words.  Maybe I did it that day and that's why the lady was convinced that I was saying the word wrong.  But seriously!  How many ways are there to say it???

So, my hopes of winning the school Spelling Bee were crushed.  And so were Emma's.  I did find it funny, however, when she smirked when she told me that Landon (the "smartest" boy in her class) got third place instead of first. 

Like mother, like daughter.

The Mark of the Birth.....mark

I think we all have those things about us that are different.   I have a somewhat bright red birthmark on my upper lip.  It sort of looks like a bloody nose. 

The kids I grew up around were the pretty typical mean ones.  Not all of them, but enough that I got called names, told I was ugly, laughed at, and even treated as sick (in a "what's wrong with you?" sort of way) all because of my birthmark. 

When I was younger, a woman that worked with my parents told them about laser surgery and how it could remove my birthmark.  I wanted it!  No more comments of, "You're nose is bleeding," "Do you have a cold sore?" or "What's with your nose?"

But as I got older, I didn't mind my birthmark anymore.  My family and friends didn't notice it, people around me began to mature and stop making stupid comments about it, and I realized that it's a part of me.  It's not something that I can just get rid of.  My birthmark has helped form me into the person I am today.

Me, 2009

But now that I'm in the nursery, I get to have little kids around me a lot.  Every week I seem to have someone ask me, "What's that?" as they point to their own, smaller, upper lip.  I explain that it's a birthmark and it's just where my skin is a different color and it's been that way since I was born.  They kind of nod in acknowledgment and we move on with whatever we're doing. 

Yesterday was no exception.  I was asked by one of the girls (not the same one from my previous post, btw) about my birthmark.  I explained and she nodded.  During music time, the music leader added some Christmas songs to our list of singing.  She turned to the group of 3-year-olds and asked, "Who has a red nose?"  My little friend from earlier turned around in her seat and pointed at me, saying, "She does!" 

Yes, yes I do.

Oh, Now I Remember....

This weekend my sister and I went to clean our parents' new house in preparation for them to move their things down in about a week or so. 

Their house was previously a rental.  And it looks like it.

It's a comfortable home, but it needs lots of fix ups here and there.  And there.  And over there too. 

I had wanted to get a general cleaning done and was so glad my sister agreed to come down with me.  I don't think I would've gotten much done by myself. 

As we did the dishes together yesterday morning, I was reminded of when we were younger and had to do the dishes together. 



Shelly and Tara, Sept 1986



Oh man, it took us forever!  For one thing, there were 7 peoples-worth of dishes.  For another thing, I think there was more playing, bickering, and whining than washing on most nights. 

It took us a lot less time yesterday.  And there was a lot less bickering.

Something I'll need to remember the next time it takes my kids over an hour to do a chore that would take me 15 minutes to complete!

Music To My Ears

The kids are attending a Traditional Academy, which focuses a lot on work in the classroom. So, when we found out about the extra music classes offered after school, I got so excited! These are band, choir, and orchestra in addition to the regular music class offered once a week during school hours.

Emma has opted to play the clarinet in band. We put out feelers over Facebook and found out that one of Josh's cousins had an old clarinet that she was willing to give to Emma in exchange for videos of her concerts. A HUGE thank you to Sara!!!

Emma and her new clarinet the day it came in the mail.

Abby, although not in a grade where band or orchestra is offered, has decided to join the school choir. She's excited to sing her guts out, and I have the feeling she's going to be great at it!


I remember joining school choirs and bands. The excitement of learning and, sometimes, excelling.


My choir and band careers began in third grade. I sang with the choir, which met in the mornings before school a few days a week and played flute in the school band.


It was amazing to discover that I had some talents. Two major events remain in my memory. First, the choir teacher came into our classroom and invited anyone who wanted to audition for the choir to come sing "America the Beautiful" in the hallway. We all lined up and she went from person to person listening to us sing the line, "For purple mountain majesties/Above the fruited plain." I remember listening to the other kids as they sang. There were some things that I learned: I wanted to be loud and I wanted to be on key. The teacher came to me and I belted it. I mean, we're talking LOUD AND PROUD! Heads turned to look at me. The teacher smiled. I knew I was in.


The second major thing I remember is the day I learned I was "different." The teacher asked for any kids that wanted to sing a descant in one of our songs. Of course, I raised my hand. I went and, once again, auditioned for the part. The teacher heard me sing and looked at me. I'll forever remember her words: "You are a good alto." I was so flattered that I went home and told my mom right away. She kind of stopped for a minute, surprised by my news. "An alto, huh?" she asked me. "Yeah," I told her. "What's an alto?"

I loved band too, but I got bored easily so I often tried to shake things up. I taught myself how to play "Jingle Bells" while the rest of the class was still learning to read the notes. In junior high I tried a few new instruments. In high school, I abandoned my flute for the trumpet and joined the Jazz Band. That one sounds more impressive than it was. I was a horrible trumpet player.

I named my trumpet Louie after the great Louis Armstrong.

Point is, I pray my children enjoy their music as much as I did. It gave me a place to be and a talent to develop. I loved doing it. And I truly believe that I needed it.


If you're ever in the neighborhood come December or May, you are officially invited to their concerts!

Laundry, Coziness, and Deja Vu

There are so many things I'm loving about our new home.

First, our miracle dryer. I thought we needed a repairman or a brand new dryer. Ours has the function to only dry as long as it detects moisture. Whatever that's called. Anyway, the first time I'd dry a load it would take about three hours to dry. Then I'd have to dry it a second time, which only took about 90 more minutes. Laundry sucked. Come to find out, our dryer just didn't have the oomph to vent up to the roof of the house. Now, it vents right outside and IT WORKS!! I never expected to be happy to do laundry.

Second, we're comfortable. Our house is cozy. Not small....cozy. We're happy, and it's been a while since we've felt at home while we were at home.

Third, and the biggest thing I'm loving is my sister just down the street. It was nice to stop by and chat as I took the kids over to the mailboxes this evening. And we had a nice BBQ yesterday for Memorial Day.

At our BBQ I had a near sense of deja vu. Here is my nephew Cody pulling his brother Ashton and my Millie around in the wagon:

I had to get a picture of it because it totally made me think of this moment:

This is my Uncle Charlie pulling me around. Funny, this picture was most likely taken at or near my Grandma Pearl's house in Montana. Now, both Grandma and Charlie live about 15 minutes away from Tara and me here in Arizona.

Here's another shot. Gotta love the 70s.

da Vinci, I am Not

We're still painting and will be for several more days. Mostly because I suck.

Back in the day, from ages 12 to 18, I attended Girls Camp with the girls from church every summer. Girls Camp was filled with your typical expectations of girls camping: matching t-shirts, skits, girls screaming about bugs, late night talks around the campfire, bras flying on the flagpole.

And every year there was a craft. I am not a crafty person. I wish I was. I have the desire, just not the patience. You have to sit still and pay attention to small details when you do crafts. You have to start out slowly and through consistent practice you become proficient. I always dreaded sitting in the big canvas tent with my pre-cut supplies to make whatever cute thing it was. I wanted the cute thing, but I didn't want to spend the time doing it. I would've preferred sneaking off to play poker with Tootsie Rolls as our currency. Don't ever tell my daughters that, especially Abby.

Painting a wall is like completing a craft, but on a larger scale. You have to make sure you cover every little speck on the wall. And the trickiest part is the edges: the wall/ceiling, wall/baseboard, wall/trim, etc.

I don't do slow and steady. I want to get this sucker done with and move on. So, because of this I know I have to tape every surface that isn't supposed to be painted, otherwise it will be. This probably takes me as much time as it would if I just painted slower, but I know I won't mess up too much if I tape.

It just all takes soooo long!!!!! Day 3 is over. Josh goes back to work tomorrow, so I'll be painting solo for the next 6 days.

I just have to remind myself that we are actually still on schedule. We're just not going to be done early.

Rolling With the Punches

At church on Sunday, one of the teachers mentioned in her lesson that she has moved 20 times in her life. She thought that was a lot until another sister told her she had moved 47 times.

Of course, this got me thinking (I may have to retitle my blog that: "This Got Me Thinking..."). I was reminded of a friend I had once who was serving as the Young Women's President at church. I was her counselor. She had a very hard time bending when bending was required. For her, things needed to be the way she had originally planned them or she'd freak out. I spent many evenings trying to console her and help her understand that plans sometimes need to change. And that's okay. One night I told her, "You've got to be more flexible and learn to roll with the punches." She chilled out a little bit, but it was always a challenge for her.

And what about me? Do I follow my own advice? Yes. A little too well. And Josh has always been very willing to roll with me. Sometimes he's even the instigator.

Where have these punches rolled me? Since marrying Josh, I've gone from Colorado to Arizona to Colorado to Montana to Arizona. This new home will be Move Number 14. And that's just since 1999.

Before that, most moves were orchestrated by my parents. So, what's the grand total? 20? 47? Well, the total moves (that I can remember or have some sort of documentation of) is 34. This includes the upcoming move, the two times I moved back into my parents' home at ages 19 and 20, but it doesn't include this summer when the kids and I stayed with my parents when Josh first came to Arizona. Oh, and only four of these moves were directly related to the Air Force.

With the last six moves occurring since December 2007, spanning a total of 1718.3 miles, I figure I've rolled enough for now. I hope and PRAY this will be our last move for a while. I was at the new house with the appraiser today. I love our house. I want to live in it. I want it to last us for a long time.

34 moves is enough for now.

Spring is Blooming

Today as we passed what happens to be my grandmother and uncle's subdivision we were bombarded by the perfume of citrus blossoms. Oh my goodness. It was heavenly. We were driving with the windows down (it was only 80 degrees outside, jealous much?) and the kids and I nearly freaked out. If you could bottle that scent and be able to avoid the tint of alcohol that most perfumes seem to possess, you'd make millions.

It reminded me a bit of my great-aunt's home in Mississippi.

(This isn't really a pic of her house, but it's a close comparison.)

She passed away in 1999. But in about 1989, we went to her house and I remember her front yard was comprised almost completely of wildflowers. She had ivy growing along trellises and up the side of her house. It was beautiful. I loved it so much that she gave me some seeds from her flowers to grow my own garden.

I also remember my great-uncle going out to his watermelon patch, taking one into the nook of his arm, thumping it, and after finding just the right one, he picked it and we immediately cut it open and ate it. There isn't anything much more refreshing than a freshly picked Mississippi watermelon. (Okay, that one's a memory of summer, but if you've never noticed, I function in chains: this made me think of this, which made me think of this.... you get the picture.)

Olympic-Sized Memory

Inspired by my dear friend Tara, I decided to show some of my Olympic memories from four years ago.

We didn't live in SLC when the Olympics came there, but we did live in itty-bitty Woodland Park, Colorado. Imagine my surprise when we found out that the Olympic Torch was making its way to Salt Lake via Woodland. Especially since it was coming down Highway 24, directly in front of the bank I worked at. I met Josh outside and we (along with a 9 1/2-month old Emma) watched as the Olympic Torch--all the way from Greece--climbed the nearly 9000 ft mountain road.

It was kinda cold.

Don't worry. Our city didn't shun the Torch or anything. That's just how many people there are in that town. It was the closest we got to the Olympics that year, but I loved that we got to be a small part of it.

Old Photos

Look at this ADORABLE picture of the girls that I found. I was looking for some pictures of my friend's younger brother (he posted on Facebook that he wanted some pictures of him that anyone had) and I saw this. It's just the cutest picture ever. Look at Abby. She just cracks me up.

I also found some pictures of Josh on his mission. Here's my question: what is the obession missionaries have of catching each other naked or on the toilet? Not that I found any of those kinds of pictures.... Ah, crap.

He's So Cute!!!!

Josh was laughing at me this morning because yesterday we got a cd in the mail from one of his cousins which contained over 200 pictures from that side of the family. Included is a picture of Josh when he was about 3 1/2. He's so cute I can't even stand it!

This is the only picture we have of Josh under the age of 19. I really, really want to raid my in-laws' pictures, but I can just see how that conversation would go:

"Hi! How are you! Haven't seen you in a while. I want pictures."

This smaller picture is cropped from this larger one. This is the day Josh's brother Jaymen was blessed. There are a lot of people in this photo I've never met, including Josh's mom's parents who passed away in the 1990s and his biological father's parents who are in CA. For that matter, I've never met his biological father. All I really have to say about that is, every family has dynamics. But that's a whole other story.

Josh's sister also found this photo. I can't believe she had a copy of it. This is Josh and me the night we met face to face. Josh had just come off the airplane, home from his mission to South Africa. He was still a missionary, and if you didn't know, missionaries aren't supposed to be too close to members of the opposite sex. So, we hammed up this picture a little, but you can see by how red our faces are that we're both a bit embarrassed about the whole spectacle.

I love old pictures.

Confessions of a Fatty

Not too many years ago, I weighed nearly 200 lbs. I was not pregnant at the time. You may be thinking one of two things:

1. Wow, she's brave to admit that. Kudos to you, Fatty, for putting it all out there.

or

2. How in the world could you let yourself go like that?

I've been trying to figure out my difficulties in weight loss. Why am I having such a hard time losing weight? Why did I gain so much in the first place?

Here's what I've come up with:

There's no such thing as baby weight.
I started gaining weight when I was pregnant the first time. I was pregnant for about a week. Within that week I adopted the mindset that I should eat what I want when I want. I was entitled to it because pregnant women are cute and chubby. Why wait for the natural "baby weight" to kick in? I wanted to be cute and prego.

Comfort Foods and Depression.
I've had a few times in my life when I've been dealt some devastating blows. I really was pregnant for just a few weeks that first time. I couldn't handle the loss of my baby very well. I found comfort in Josh's arms and with sugar. Five years later, when I was pregnant with Matt, I kept myself in pretty good shape. I was 5 months pregnant and sword fighting onstage--best workout ever! About two or three months later, we found out about Matt's heart and I slipped into another depression. My favorite comfort foods included cheddar jalapeno poppers, ice cream, popcorn, and soda pop. I blew up like a balloon.

Getting fat is convenient.
While Josh and I were going to school, we had no time to do anything. We woke up in enough time to take our children to various childcare locations so we could be to class by 8am. We spent all day in classes. We had workstudy jobs at the school, which would run until about 5pm. We picked up our children and by 5:45 we were trying to figure out what to have for dinner. I only had about an hour before I had to go back to school for play rehearsals, so we usually had fast food or homecooked fast food. Either way, we rarely ate salads, fruits, or lean proteins. Our carbs were hardly ever complex. My exercises consisted of walking around campus, sitting, writing notes, and eating. I'm pretty sure I didn't gain the Freshman 15. It was more like the Nontraditional Student Four-Year Plan 50.

Moms aren't supposed to be trim and fit.
All my life I've been told that moms should take care of everyone else. Moms come last. That means that if something's gotta give, it's gonna be momma's needs. The whole family can't wait for an activity because Mommy needs to finish her workout. If the kids won't eat whole wheat bread, than Mommy should just buy the stuff the kids like and give up. Also, if I've had a bad day with the kids, I should have a treat. The only treat I can get when I'm at home with sleeping babies is a late night freezer raid. But, as a mom, I'm entitled to unwind and if it's with chocolate, then so be it.

If I can't have what I want, at least I've got chocolate.
Being poor sucks. If I can't have my own house, at least I've got cake. If I can't have an easy day of bill paying, at least I've got M&Ms. If I can't buy the thousands of dollars of things I'd like for our home, at least I've got taquitos and sour cream.

So, where does this leave me now? I still have many of these same issues. Now that I know where so much of it stemmed from, how do I change this? Every one of these previous thought processes include the idea that I'm entitled to food because..... So I just have to change my habits. I don't need food as a reward. I don't need food as a comfort. Food is fuel. If I eat healthily (lean proteins, complex carbs, fruits and veggies, healthy fats), I can have the fuel I need to get through the day. And it won't make me fat, as long as I eat it in moderation.

There are so many theories of what to eat, when to eat, how much to eat. I'm quitting. I will eat three meals a day, with a small snack in between. I need to try to stop eating after dinner. I'll get the nutrition I need and stop focusing so much on "Am I doing this right?" I'm just going to live. I'll eat good foods and keep my exercising. I'll keep checking in every week to report my progress.

We Can Do This!!!!

How'd you do?

The Council of Legendary Figures Expose!

When do you have the talk with your children?

I don't mean the "birds and the bees" or "just say no." I'm talking the "Santa's got a small budget and here is the reason why..." talk.

I was told the ugly truth the end of my second grade year. I was telling my mom that a few weeks ago, over Easter, I had seen the shadow of a six foot tall rabbit walking through our hallway. No, it wasn't Harvey. It was my childhood about to come to a halt. Of course, all through second grade all of my friends were questioning the existence of Santa, the Easter Bunny, and pretty much anyone else on the Council of Legendary Figures (watch The Santa Clause if you need more info about that). So, I wasn't shocked, but definitely disappointed.

Now, Emma is in third grade and Abby is in second. Is this the time for this talk? Do we wait until the girls demand answers? Might this need to be the year since we have an extremely limited Christmas budget and Emma has already written her letter to Santa asking for a pink Nintendo DS with red hearts on it with a carrying case and several specific games? She said she's asking Santa for the gift because she knows it's too expensive for us to buy for her.

I don't want to be the one to bring my baby's childhood to a halt. I also don't want to see her face when not even Santa can help her (Hello, Santa's trying to help us buy a new house!). Although, I am going to look online, Craigslist, Ebay, wherever I can for a deal. I'll try. But I can't promise to deliver.

When and how did you learn the truth of the Council of Legendary Figures?

That Same Old Routine

My latest 'Fess Up Friday spoke about stress. The tremendous amount of stress I've been feeling lately. It just seems like a lot of things have been out of control lately. I want a routine. I want MY routine. Everyday I want to get up and do the same ol', same ol'. I've discovered in my old age that routine is paramount in raising kids and overall daily life.

However, several years ago I would've rather died than accept routine in my life. I lived in the moment. Spontaneity was my middle name. At least it would've been if I knew how to spell it.

I was thinking about this while I was in the shower this morning (one of the best places to think). As a senior in high school, why did I hate the thought of keeping a routine? Then I remembered: I had virtually no responsibilities. I worked about 10 hours a week as the Snack Bar Girl at a roller skating rink. Out of my eight classes, only two, maybe three, required me to do homework. The only real responsibility I had was to be to school on time, and that didn't happen all that often. Nearly every morning I ran through the halls to get to the office. If I could convince those in charge of the morning announcements to allow me to give one of the announcements, then I could convince my first period teacher that I was only late because I was busy with my Student Council responsibilities ("You heard me giving the announcements, right?"). I'm pretty sure my teachers knew what I was doing, but luckily none of them actually called my bluff.

So in summary,

No Responsibilities = Me circa 1996

Tons of Responsibilities = Me circa 2009

And for now, that's okay. I'm willing to be boring if it will keep my life balanced and in check. Although I do miss making those morning announcements sometimes.

Happy Birthday, Sesame Street!!

Today, November 10, Sesame Street turns 40. (Thank goodness it's older than me!) I love Sesame Street! It's probably one of the best shows to ever hit the airwaves.

Sesame Street taught me how to spell and how to write my name.

When I was four I remember asking for a Cookie Monster birthday cake. I wanted it so bad. Cookie is definitely my favorite character. I love his googly eyes, his long fuzzy fur, how great he looks in blue, and his affinity for cookies. He's my kind of man. (Yes, Josh, it is kind of unsettling how similar you are to my favorite childhood memory.)

If you haven't watched in a while, you've missed a new, fun character called Abby Cadabby. Of course, my Abby loves her. Not only is she a fairy, but she's pink. She's cute.

I saw this episode last season. Neil Patrick Harris was hilarious and made me laugh out loud. Here's a little clip of Neil as the Fairy Shoe Person. You can also see a bit of Abby Cadabby.

I'm writing this at midnight because Millie is having a hard time sleeping, but just like it should, these clips from Sesame Street are calming her down. I love this show. Happy Birthday!!

Some Sesame trivia:

What is the name of Elmo's pet fish?

What's the name of the store on Sesame Street?

What's the name of Big Bird's teddy bear?

When trouble arises, who does Grover turn into?

And here's a toughie:

What color was Oscar the Grouch 40 years ago?

So, who is your favorite character?

Alright

I love that Darius Rucker (formerly of Hootie and the Blowfish) is doing country songs. For the longest time, I hated country. I hated everything about it. I hated the lyrics, the music, the artists, the fact that my parents listened to it. And there we find the root of my hatred. I didn't rebel much as a teenager. I wasn't home on time very often and I had an attitude with the best of them, but overall I really wasn't a bad kid. My only true form of rebellion was to hate my parents' music, therefore always wearing my headphones in the car to tune out their music and blast my own. I think it bugged my parents enough, so my somewhat harmless form of independence was sufficient.

It's funny how things change. And it's funny how boys make them change. As I dated a couple different guys, their interest in country music sparked mine. They pretty much paved the way for me to be even more compatible for Josh. I listened to country, but I also listened to my pop station--which regularly played Hootie. Now, I get to have some of both. I love Darius' songs (yes, I'm on a first name basis with him. I call him Darius and he calls me Stranger) and I just thought I'd share my newfound enjoyment.

Kid Update

Here's the skinny on the kiddos:

School starts in one week. Hooray! Party! Hallelujah!!!! I used to judge moms who were excited when their kids were going back to school. "What kind of horrible mother is glad to see her children spend so much of the day away from her?" my childless, I-know-everything mind would wonder. Then I realized: a real, true mother feels that way! Now if I hear women talk about how sad they are that the summer is coming to an end and the kids are heading back to school and she's sad, I judge her and the lithium she must be on. I'm just sayin'...

Matt asked for his training wheels to come off his bike yesterday and now he's zooming up and down the sidewalks like a madman. The boy has one speed: Lightning! It's taking him a while to figure out how to start, but once he gets the bike in motion, be careful. "10 points for the old guy!" (A Little Rascals reference for you.) I've got a video of it, but I'm having trouble uploading it. When I get it, I'll get it on here.

Millie is getting bigger and smarter everyday. She hasn't quite figured out her own personality yet, but there are clear similarities between her and her siblings. She has Matt's easy-going attitudes, Emma's talkative nature (once she gets going she talks a lot and loud), and Abby's adventurous spirit. When Abby was about Millie's age, she'd make her way to our TV. The VCR was down low in our TV stand and one day she stuck her hand in the VCR and yanked. That was the day our VCR died. Millie likes to roll over to the VCR too. I've got to keep an eye on that girl all the time. Let the VCR live!! She's also like Abby in that she likes to eat. She likes to eat anything. The other day I had a can of Bag Balm out (the best diaper rash medicine in the world) and Millie grabbed it, began sucking on the can, and then spent the next minutes sucking on her lips. Ew, gross! But that's nothing. When Abby was somewhere around a year old, I walked into the room and caught Abby with her hand in the cookie jar. Or the Bag Balm, whatever. She had eaten half of the can. Do you know what Bag Balm is? If you don't, go to the store and buy some. It works wonders. It's supposed to be used on cow udders when they get chapped, but it works well on diaper rash, sunburns, just about any skin irritation. Anyway, open it up and sniff it. Then you will understand why I was mortified that Abby ate HALF A CAN! I called Poison Control because I didn't know what's in that stuff. Here's what I'm pretty sure the conversation went like:

Me: My daughter ate half a can of Bag Balm and I don't know if it's bad for her.

The Lady: Bag Balm? Like in the green can?

Me: Yes.

The Lady: And she ate how much?

Me: Half the can.

The Lady: Seriously? That stuff is gross.

Me: I know.

The Lady: You'd think she would've stopped after the first taste.

Me: You'd think.

The Lady: Okay, it looks like there's nothing harmful in it. She just might have greasy poop.

The second time Abby ate half the can of Bag Balm I didn't worry about calling Poison Control, but I did double check to make sure the can was up high from that time on.

Emma and Abby need to go to school. That's their update. Their fighting is driving me crazy! That's all I got to say about that.

Let That Pony Run

I ran into Bill Clinton the other day. Okay, not really, but I swear the dude was trying to do a SNL Bill Clinton impersonation. Turns out he just talks funny. This is what he sounded like:

Dad and I were standing in the office at the front gate of the Air Force base where he stables his horse, Takela. My sidelong stares at the dude probably weren't as stealthy as I'd hoped, but I thought he was using some sort of fake voice or something.

Anyway, we were there so the kids and I could go ride Takela. Dad saddled her up and Abby about marched over, took the reins and swung up onto Takela's back without help. She was very determined to ride that pony. Matt and Emma also got on her and even enjoyed the ride. We didn't let Millie get up there, but she wondered what the heck Takela was. I even took a spin around the circle pen with her. I'm not an experienced rider, by any means, but it was pretty fun to get up and be on a horse again. The last ride I went on was with Dad. We went out to Antelope Island in Utah. Our rides were generally pretty ordinary, but there are bison on Antelope Island and on this occasion a big bull was making his way to the trail directly in front of us. My horse was named Liberty and he was a bit scared of this monster. We diverted off the trail enough to get around the beast, but a hill on that side of the trail limited how far off we could go. Dad was nervous too, but he warned me not to let Liberty run, because we might spook the bison. I held Liberty back as well as I could, but his trot increased in speed as we passed the bull and finally he let out in a full run. By that time, Dad and I had both passed the bison and I just didn't care. Liberty was free to take me as far away from that big, scary thing as fast as he could. Luckily, the bull just stared after us with a look on his face like, "Chickens."

Yes, yes I am a chicken.

Anniversary Countdown: The Conclusion

Jumping the Gun?

You may not know this about me, but when I know what I want (which isn't often, so it's a big deal when that happens) I go for it. And there's really no way to stop me. That may make it sound like I've been spoiled in my life, but really, I've just had to work my butt off and then can't be denied my request. For instance, I wanted Josh. And I had to do everything in my power to make him realize that he was going to marry me. First, I made him hold my hand. Then, I made him kiss me. Then, I made him hang out with me until he was convinced he should marry me. Now I sound manipulative. But that's not true either. And if you don't believe that, I won't be your friend anymore.

The first time Josh mentioned going to pick out a ring, I was down for it. I pretty much led him to the jewelry store as soon as he parked the car at the mall. We found the perfect setting--classical, but dramatic. And Josh is so amazing. He actually learned about diamonds from a diamond broker in South Africa. He said he wanted to make sure he knew how to buy a diamond for his wife because he wanted to give her the best of everything. I was amazed at how well he knew his stuff (I let him do that part).

I'm also a bit of a practical person. Despite all my drama, I do actually present practical reasoning. Even though he hadn't asked me yet, I knew we were going to be getting married. So, I began shopping. We had already talked about using all of our siblings as our wedding party. I recruited our mothers (to keep everyone happily involved) and we spent several Saturdays out together. I had told Josh that I wasn't going to be engaged for more than two months and he happily went along with me. But that meant that we had a lot to do to prepare and we needed to get moving.

Josh tried really hard to keep the proposal itself a secret from me. I wasn't making it very easy on him. He told me he didn't want to ask me to marry him until he had been legally adopted by his dad. He'd gone by Johnson for most of his life, but he wanted to be adopted and make it all official. When that happened, he had to think of a new way to stall until he was ready to propose. Supposedly, my ring was taking a lot longer to resize than we expected. He told me it should be ready the week after his adoption. So, I continued to shop. Josh had come with me and our moms to look for items we needed when we came across a bridal shop. He sat outside for a few hours while I found my wedding gown. (Now I always take him shopping with me because he has better taste than I do, so it's kind of funny that he couldn't be with me during this big decision.) Anyway, it was a Saturday night and we closed down the store, but I had a wedding gown, although I didn't have a fiance at that point.

The following morning after all the church meetings, I went to find Josh and walked into the gym to find both of our families there and Josh waiting for me. He was decked out in armor and held a wrapped gift in his hands. He stood in front of me and handed me the gift which I opened. It was a Precious Moment called "Onward Christian Soldier". It was a soldier with a shield and over the tip of the shield hung my ring. He took the ring and then went to my dad to ask his permission to then come get on one knee and ask me to marry him. I happily agreed. He was my knight. Plus, I'd just spent several hundreds of dollars on a dress and I was excited I'd actually get to wear it. Okay, mostly I was happy to marry my best friend.

We rushed and planned the rest of our wedding. We had so many things against us: Mother's Day was May 9 so florists were scared of us, we had a little less than two months to get everything ready so every other aspect of wedding planning was scared of us, and some parents had more difficulties with the whole process than others. In fact, our bishop told us there was no shame in eloping. I think his exact words were, "There's a temple in Las Vegas." (We got married in the Denver LDS temple.) Sometimes I do wish we would've just taken the money and run, but you live and learn, right? We even bought our first house together just days before the wedding. Josh moved in first and I moved in after the wedding. Like I said, it may have been a bit rushed and a bit rough at times, but we knew what we wanted and we set out and got it.

I love Josh. He's truly the greatest man I've ever known. He works hard for our family and wants so many good things for us. He's strong mentally, physically, and spiritually. He's a freaking genius. And he's hot. I've loved these last ten years and I'm looking forward to the eternity we have to spend together. Happy Anniversary, Baby!

Anniversary Countdown Part Quatro

Our Date

Okay, tonight's update was going to be full of details because I kept everything from the Valentine's set up Josh did for me. Unfortunately, I "cleaned" the basement a couple months ago and now I can't find all my keepsakes. That's why my clutter is organized chaos. I can find anything in the clutter. Can't find a dang thing in the organization. Grr!!!

Luckily, my BFF Cindy saved all the emails I sent to her during this time period and I can use them as references. (You're awesome, Cindy!)

Throughout January and into February, Josh and I spent a lot of time together. I lived in Woodland Park, a town on the backside of Pikes Peak, and Josh lived in Divide, another 16 miles up the mountain. He worked at a hardware store in Woodland Park and we'd often meet together for lunch since I worked in Woodland too. He'd come over and spend hours with me at my house before heading home, braving the snow and late hours. It wasn't long until our feelings of marriage turned to talk of marriage. Valentine's Day was quickly approaching, but Josh told me outright that he wasn't going to propose to me then. We knew we wanted to get married, we knew we were going to get married, but we needed a little more time to solidify our friendship. But, I secretly hoped he's ask me anyway.

A few days before Valentines there was a letter in the mailbox with a penciled picture in the likeness of Ed McMann from "The Ted McMinn Valentine's Sweepstake" and the words "You could already be a Winner!" on the envelope. Inside the letter read:

"Dear Miss Shelly Williams,

We at the Ted McMinn Valentine Sweepstakes take much pleasure in informing you that you have already been selected as one of our finalists. It has come to our attention that there are two young men seeking the opportunity to take you out as their special Valentine Date. Both of these young men have agreed to take part in an anonymous Ted McMinn Valentine Competition. In this competition they will do little things to show you their personality, feelings towards you, and to try to win over your affection. To keep it fair, they will be going by code names to let you decide between the two based solely on your reactions to their affectionate deeds -- which must reflect their personalities. They will not be allowed to give you any CURRENT pictures of themselves so that you will have to make your decision based on the heart. After all isn't that the way it is meant to be?

Miss Shelly Williams, by simply accepting their gestures of love, and then making a decision of whom you would like to go on a date with you can win a Special Ted McMinn Valentine Dream Date!!!! It is that simple!!! The competition will commence on February 10, 1999, and conclude on February 14, 1999, at which time you can win and claim your prize simply by making your decision between 'Mr X' and 'Mr ?'. Congratulations and Good luck!

Sincerely,

Ted McMinn"

The first day Mr ? stole my car while I was at work and washed, vacuumed, dusted, and filled it with gas. Mr X gave me a pear with a face on it in a bowl of yellow water and a bag of oatmeal and a note that said, "On the first day of Valentines my true love gave to me Porridge in some Pear Pee."

I can't find the rest of the cards. I remember I got some Hot Wheel cars from Mr X and Mr ? filled my car with balloons. This went on until a strange tall man with dark hair and silly glasses showed up to hand-deliver the final gifts and ask me to choose which man I'd like to date. Mr X's gift was a note that said, "On the fifth day of Valentines my true love gave to me 5 onion rings" and 5 onion rings. Mr ? gave me a note explaining that in the Zulu culture the elephant is revered as sacred and full of strength. It's such a majestic animal that the word for "elephant" is the same word for "queen". I then opened the included gift and it was a small statuette of two elephants sitting together. (It currently sits next to our TV.) So, the strange Ted McMinn guy asked me which man I was going to choose and I wisely chose Mr ?. I was then informed that Mr X was actually Val Kilmer from Hollywood, CA. (Background: I love Val Kilmer. My love for him has waned a bit since he gave me a bunch of crap gifts in 1999, though.) Then I was told that Mr ? was Josh Johnson. Suddenly the strange guy took off his funny glasses and Josh was magically standing in front of me! I mentioned before that Josh took me to dinner that night for Valentines Day. We went to a nice restaurant and he gave me a very beautiful Precious Moment. Go here for that picture if you need a review. I got no proposal that night, but we continued to talk about marriage.

And it was the only date we ever went on.

Stay tuned to find out if he ever proposed...Same Bat time, same Bat channel.