Auction time...

G and I decided that with our West Virginia days being numbered, we could not leave without going to an official auction.  We hired a real live babysitter and drove all the way to Richlands where we enjoyed the fine dining option of A&W (the other option in the town was Long John Silvers which is like glorified frozen tv dinners with fish).  We had a hearty laugh when all my favorites from the ward were also there:

These are G's buddies and they are regulars at the auction.  I was laughing so hard at James Kahle settling in on the back row after getting his auction paddle and buying a hot plate of nachos with bright orange snot consistency cheese dripping all over them. I seriously want to put all these guys in a movie.

 There were some sweet boxes of absolute pure complete junk that April and I had some good laughs over and wouldn't have bought even if it was free and came with a bonus gift.

Items like this authentic KKK framed painting went for $25. They had all kinds of treasures that you're mind could never conceive unless you live here.

In the end, G and I did not walk away empty handed. Learning the guitar is my summer goal and for $40 we took home this beauty.

Which paled in comparison to this original masterpiece. How could I pass up this work of art (literally)? Ok, let's be honest, I could care less about the cleavage English musician girl, I want to paint the frame black and put in a family pic.  On the way home we were hoping that perhaps it is a rare original and worth our student loan debt and more. I highly doubt it, but if you are an art dealer, please let us know before I pinterest-ify the frame. We went and got doughnuts and watermelon for our treat and then came home and watched a movie while G dominated me in words with friends. I probably will feel just fine going to my grave without going to another West Virginia auction, but I am glad we went.

First annual cheese fest...

When someone mentions cheese, I just think of the plastic orange slimy stuff that comes comes in a little plastic wrap or the massive block we always had in the fridge growing up.  I didn't realize that there was a whole cheese world I was oblivious to for 28 years.  Don't get me wrong, I've always appreciated cheese.  I like it on my sandwich, potatoes, noodles, almost anything and I would be willing to trade almost anything in elementary school for string cheese.  Then we met the Doggetts and my cheese perspective changed forever.  My cheese classification prior to my cheese education at Doggett university consisted of knowing that swiss had holes, cheddar was orange, mozzarella was white and colby jack was like a twisty cone mixture of the two.  I now shudder at my ignorance.  Not only do I instantly go up at least 7 classy points for appreciating fine cheeses but it is ridiculously good. Don't worry, if you are new to cheese world because you don't need to import any thing fancy from France.  Your local Walmart will have a little dairy treasure called "Smoked Gouda" and for $3.48 you can begin your own exciting journey to cheese appreciation:

Anyway, yesterday afternoon the Doggett's invited us over for a cheese and cracker fest. We feasted. I wish somehow you could taste how divine each cheese was. I always thought the wall paper that you could lick in Willy Wonka was such a great idea.  Perhaps that is the future of the computer as well.  Until they figure out the details of such a technologically advanced process, you will need to get your own.

 We tried to play a game but the presence of multiple children impeded the process.

Tara gave me my birthday present in a brown paper package that was literally tied up with strings that had a note that said, "These are a few of my favorite things" and was filled with all my favorite lip gloss, lotion, gum, candy, nail polish, treats, etc. Can we say thoughtful? Hello.  That is what I call pinterest in action. It was So dang nice.  We were also celebrating the fact that the annoying elephant you see in the cheese picture was finally in full functioning operation after weeks of failed attempts:

G had busted out our entire tool kit to try at remove a ball that was stuck and was unable to retrieve it. We feared the new toy from grandma would find its final resting place at goodwill if we could not remove the blocked ball.  This was what we call a toy tragedy.  We were losing hope.

 A few days later when the Doggetts came over, G challenged Casey's manhood and presented him with the elephant challenge. After a good half an hour of unscrewing and attempting different approaches, we thought it was over when he tenaciously took the blue plastic pain home and presented the unclogged elephant at the cheese fest.  It was truly a cause for celebration.

In the drivers seat...

Garrett and I home teach an amazing woman named Mary Nead who is 95 or something like that and lives at the nursing home near our home.  For some reason she always remembers Liv but never remembers Garret and I so we have to bring Liv so she doesn't think we are strangers. At first I didn't really like to go because being in the nursing home just made me so sad, not to mention smelled really weird and only intensified my phobia of growing old.  A few months ago Liv and I stopped by and learned that she loves the sound of music.  I don't know why, but realizing that she too shares the love of Edelweiss and singing "You are 16 going on 17" sealed the deal and now we love going.  Liv and I always act out some top scenes and she sings with us on all the classics including, "favorite things".  When we have our official hometeaching appointment G is always a hit.   It's quite the trio companionship. On the way home awhile ago G let Liv sit with him and touch the steering wheel on the country road where we turned into the house and now all she wants to do is drive. She loves it.

You can't miss the sheer delight on her face. Few things make her as excited as sitting in the drivers seat.

She's 15 years too early to be loving it so much. In 15 years I will probably take her to a cemetery to practice just like my mom took me since everyone is already dead anyway so you can't do any damage while you learn. Until then, she'll just have to settle for sitting in the seat in a stationary car.

Pregalicious...

Last week was a double whammy mammy bridal shower. My friend April and Becky are both great with child. We played all the classic games and had exceptional refreshments. That is the mark of a truly successful shower.  I remember feeling really disturbed when I was seven and going with my mom to a shower.  I didn't understand why we would all awkwardly gather together for a shower.  I was relieved when my mother explained that the Latin root word of shower was simply to shower someone with presents.  I had a much better visual on the ride over after that picturing someone sitting in the middle of the room while gifts galore poured down.

 The worst part of the one being "showered" is the public opening because you can't act more excited on particular gifts or the person with gifts you gave less of a, "Ohhhh, thank you sooooo much. It's sooooo cute," will feel bad and regret every going into Baby gap on your behalf.  As I was staring at their bulging bellies, I was amazed at what a crazy concept pregnancy is.  It's the wildest science experiment I could ever imagine.  A human growing inside of another human.  If I ever start to feel overwhelmed by the concept of pregnancy, I just look at this madre who had 11 and I feel a whole lot skinnier.

Even if you only have one and you don't have stretch mark city on your abdomen as a souvenir from the whole experience, nothing rocks your world or changes your life like having a baby. Nothing.  I normally think these kind of pictures are so lame, but next to the scriptures, it's one of the truest things I've read lately:

My sister Becky is going to have her baby any day.  My sister Kerry just had a baby. Em's fetus is now officially as large as a shrimp.  It's such a big deal.  In fact, there isn't a bigger deal.  Even if you never sleep in again, it's the best thing there is because it's what life is all about. Baby shower it up folks. Family is everything.

Watch Your Step....

Last week in seminary we talked about how small simple decisions make the biggest difference.  We watched this clip of Elder Holland and discussed why small things matters so much.  It's so interesting being here because the teenagers reality and trials are so different than what I imagine.  I asked if they had any examples of people they know that have made a decision that has brought opposition and the 14 year old girl responded, "Well, my two friends are pregnant so they probably won't be able to finish 8th grade." I was expecting more of a, "I didn't study for my spelling test and so I didn't get an A" type of answer.

Lately I'm realizing how rare integrity and purity is.  I'm so ridiculously thankful for a husband who is clean and I 'm not just talking about how he folds his clothes. I trust everything about him. If you are not true, you really do are nothing no matter how much you work out or how hot you look.  It really does matter who you really are when no one is looking. Watching pornography is like eating marital rat poison.  I'm so dang grateful to be married to man who is true to himself and the Lord all the time, everywhere, no matter what.  There is nothing that matters more.

Liv's social skills....

 

All mothers want their daughters to make good choices, stay out of jail, and marry an eagle scout.  I too want those things for Liv.  There are some other things that are very important to me in raising her.  One of those things is that I want Liv to be socially low maintenance and  high yield; meaning I want her to not be one of those high maintenance kids that can't go to strangers and does not play well with others.  Now, I don't care if Liv is prom queen and the most popular but I want her to socially be able to make lots of friends and I believe that starts young.  So far we are off to a rough start.  If you'll recall the pic above, cousin relations are a little strained when Liv comes to town.  I was hoping it was just a fluke but I'm starting to be concerned after we went to the Dogget's today and she played with Arianna. See evidence below:

I don't blame Liv. She's very loving and has all the right intentions. It just seems that anyone she plays with besides the Doggett bogs, immediately has a look of extreme distress, cries and needs instant rescuing which is slightly awkward.  I think she inherited my inability to sense people's personal space which comes off a little abrasive to delicate female playmates, that or maybe she just doesn't get along with red headed girls.  I don't know. I will need a larger sample size before I can make any conclusions. 

I babysat while Tara ran to Walmart and the boys were very anxious for her return. They are both very protective of Liv and she is betrothed to Levi which works out well considering I want to be friends with his mother for much longer than our Bluefield probation.

(Notice Liv's future husband in the background)

My big day....(along with the rest of America)

I know this is after the fact but I still wanted to remember my big day. My official nationally recognized mothers day. I know, I know, it's like the after Christmas sale but I still wanted to jot it down for my memory.  You are an American and free to skip right over this post so don't blame me if you are using your agency to waste your time. Let's just say the only other time I ate one of my all time favorite breakfasts (able skeevers, bacon, berries and juice) was last Mothers day which makes it an even bigger deal.  It's like Passover food. It's so rarely eaten, that eating it makes Mothers Day that much more of a monumental day.  Perhaps we might say this is a tradition. I say anything you have done twice and like can count as a tradition (ie once my sister and I had this "tradition" of running on Saturday mornings, we went.....twice.)
 
  Anyway, I got the necklace and earrings I was wanting, not to mention two boxes of candy for church.  These are not just any boxes of candy, these are very special boxes. It's a well known fact that I like to have a little intermission snack at church which I tried to hide from Garrett when we were first married by eating in the church bathroom. G still does not condone the practice except on special occasions like mothers day where he actually bought me two specific boxes of church candy for the day.  It's an instant hit with all the little kids when I sneaked them Mike and Ikes and Jr. Mints all through the meeting without their parents knowing.

The other thing I love, and I mean love is a really really hot bath.  There are few things I love more in life and since high school I have always taken a nightly bath.  Well this tradition has been halted due to the fact that our hottest water temperature is not hot enough at our house for the acceptable bath temperatures I enjoy. There's nothing worse than sitting in a small bathtub with your love handles in tepid water like a piece of beef that is defrosting. There's nothing better than a piping hot bath with a magazine before bed as all your problems evaporate with the steam.  It's been a rough year with our merely warm water and I have sorely missed hot baths; so you can imagine my delight when I came downstairs in the evening to this sight:

No, G was not cooking. He was boiling water for my mothers day bath.  I loved it even though I couldn't get in for awhile because I was close to passing out in the sauna like atmosphere in the bathroom even before attempting to get in.  Everyone needs to adopt the practice of a nightly hot bath.  I had neck and back rubs all day, anytime and for as long as I said.  We had a divine shrimp dinner and my favorite rice pudding for dessert.  I loved my big day. I loved it because it didn't even seem that big since G is always cleaning up, helping and doing things I love frequently but I still loved the whole day of motherhood glory. 

A New Reality show....

Tuesday nights have not been the same since the Biggest Loser Finale. I have never consecutively watched a tv show in my life, but for some reason I got completely hooked on this show.  I don't think it's even because we have 3 channels (2 of which are not an option since one is a nonstop baptist preacher and the other is a West Virginia station) that I was counting down all week to see my favorite chubby peeps. As embarrassing as it is, I seriously looked forward every Tuesday night to seeing my favorite love handles come on the screen.  Even though my favorites got voted off, I was faithful in my fanhood and it became a treasured Tuseday night obsession. I mean tradition.

(Even though this is from a past episode, I thought this guy deserved to be posted just for his ankle transformation, don't act like you're not staring...Plus I had no idea that your hair changed colors when you lost weight, that's an added bonus....)

This morning I was having scripture study and read the epic classic Alma 5 where he asks, "Have ye spiritually been born of God? Have ye experienced this mighty change in your hearts?"  I always feel motivated to get a change in my heart so that when I read that I caa yell with a resounding, "Heck yes!" As if there is no question.  The truth is, that I don't know. I can't tell. I want to change. I want to be better. I stink at visiting teaching but I do take the sacrament every week. I try hard. I've never had a huge radical moment of change. I wish I knew. I wish there was a spirit scale Biggest Change of Hearter TV show where at the grand finale, Alison Sweeny announces, "Check out this vilest of sinner, laziest wife, critical angry as a bull mother, impatient slob" as you see the before picture and then she says..."Well look at her now!" As she busts through showing her charitable, loving, patient self on stage claiming the grand prize, which she would obviously donate to charity because of her radical transformation.

The truth is, that both a change in body and change in heart both happen gradually and unless you get spiritual/physical liposuction, there are no short cuts and no substitutions for consistent habits.  One of the reasons I hate going to the gym is that I feel like I weigh the exact same after going once.  My arms jiggle as I walk into the sweaty arena, and my arms jiggle walking out an hour later.  That's frustrating.  It's the same frustration after a single scripture study when you think, "Well, I should be floating by now, or at least conversing with heavenly beings or being asked to wear a massive flower pinned to my blazer and speak at general conference."  Nothing worth having happens instantly.  Maybe pop tarts, but that's all I can think of.   Have you ever had a meaningful relationship that happens after one yearbook entry or 3 minutes? No. Anything in life worth having requires diligence, including getting rid of physical and spiritual cellulite. 

 I loved this by James E. Faust:
“The Lord has a great work for each of us to do. You may wonder how this can be. You may feel that there is nothing special or superior about you or your ability. . . . The Lord can do remarkable miracles with a person of ordinary ability who is humble, faithful, and diligent in serving the Lord and seeks to improve himself. This is because God is the ultimate source of power.”

There's a reason Biggest loser isn't premiering one week and then having the finale the next week. Real change always takes time, work, and consistency. Always. Instant results get you easy mac or soggy ramen noodles. Blue light specials are just for K-mart, not change of heart buying, and who wants something from K-mart anyway? I know Alma was thinking about Biggest Loser but its a true principle.  I guess I will just keep on keeping on with exercise and scripture study until they start the game show of my dreams...

So much change, so little time...

When I was home in Utah I went and saw my cousins that I love.  We did a fast drive through to all 3 of their apartments at BYU I felt like I was in a time machine because suddenly I was transported to a totally different world that I forgot existed.  As I walked up condo row I could tell a ward prayer/stare had just finished because there were little pods of tiny never give birth hipped women flirting on the corner with their FHE brothers that they were acting like were just friends but they secretly were praying that they would be asked out and practiced signing their name with the boy's last name. I could tell.  We drove past Fat Cats bowling where I'm embarrassed to admit how many times I went their on dates bowling followed by the ever classic ice cream at hogi yogi after.  I listened to my beautiful intelligent cousin talk about upcoming graduation, boys, room mates, and possible future opportunities. I loved hearing all about it and was verbally squeezing her like a capri sun (is it just me or is that the most awkward container for sugary hummingbird juice that has cool flavor names?) for every detail. I felt so weird driving home because my life is so different now. No awkward blind dates. No checking myself in mirror before ward "take a cookie take a lookie" prayer. No more fat cats.  No more staying up until 4 am chatting with room mates about nothing and everything.

Some of the best memories of my life were on that BYU campus with 5 other trying to get married, menstruating, laughing fun women.  I passed the hole where we all used to live and talk about what it would be like to have our own homes some day and not have to pass cleaning check on Saturday mornings like we were 7 years old with a chore chart again and what it would be like to have a husband instead of some awkward balding forced conversation blind date every Friday night.  I remembered doing ridiculous spontaneous things with random people on a daily basis and basing every decision on the following question: "Will this be fun?" 

 I remembered how unbelievably fun it was to live with my sister Em and what it was like to just have money to spend on whatever the heck I felt like spending it on.

 I remembered how fun it was to just pick up and go on ridiculously spontaneous fun trips wherever you wanted without diaper bags. I remembered 3 summers ago how Jill and I just decided to go back to Ecuador and had the mother of trips just getting on buses, eating mangos, and doing whatever sounded the most fun at the moment (are we seeming a common thread here? The key word is fun).

I felt very nostalgic as I pulled back in to the house and realize that all of those things that used to be components of my life have completely evaporated. It's hard to feel worried about if you look super cute and attractive when this happens to your abs that you worked so hard to tone  (So you don't worry, Beth has a balloon, mine is authentic):

 As I came home feeling very sentimental I realized that all those things were not even a part of my life. Not at all.  We have student loan debt. We have a budget. We have to be home by 8 pm every night for Liv's bed time. Gar's best suit gets a fresh milk bottle stain every Sunday from Liv. Our romantic juicy dates are often redbox and the Walmart brand of popcorn with me explaining the end of the movie to G because he fell asleep.  I traded in 4 am chats with a room full of estrogen for 204 lbs of solid not chatting falls asleep in 3 minutes husbandness.  I own a nursing bra and look up things on the internet like how to clean your shower curtain and get urine stains out of carpet. My mind was reeling with how different my life was 2 years ago and how much has changed so quickly and so permanently, making singles dances seem as recent as the brontosaurus.  It has been so different and hard in many ways to adjust to not sleeping in, being a full time mom, moving to the middle of nowhere and not lighting the cook book on fire (from the early days of our marriage, a story of which I am not proud). As I was thinking about this, I walked in the house and like a spawning salmon without any conscientious thought, walked straight back to Liv's bed an saw this:

 I thought about  how much I love that little girl with the pink cheeks in her crib and how when she she wakes up she throws everything in her crib outside of it and will knock on the wood slats like they are a door and yell until I come get her.  I thought of how she makes me laugh so hard when she spits and gives kisses that are more like hickies and how everyone at the grocery store goes nuts when she waves "bye bye".  I thought about how there is nothing better than when she's still tired and I take her downstairs and we just rock and read some lame book without a plot, usually about a puppy named Spot and she's so warm and lets me cuddle her and kiss her neck. There's not a better feeling.  I thought about how much I love going to sleep at night next to G sometimes secretly cuddling even though he's asleep.  I thought about how much I love coming downstairs on a Saturday morning and G and Liv are making breakfast and then we just lay on the floor after because we're full of waffles and plan our day of doing nothing but being together while playing words with friends and tetris.  I thought about how I've never felt more loved or safe in my whole life and how good it feels to be married to the best man I have ever known and get to have the same last name, even if it is just watching half a redbox because we're both so tired.
Monkies look really cool in pictures. Staying up late every night was a blast. Traveling is fun. Dating was a lot of good free food. It's funny how when you finish a season of your life, you remember all the highlights and the hard things fade.  This season of life has different hard things but I would not trade where I am for all the monkies, fat cat bowling dates, ward prayers and trips in the world. Life is who you have in it, not where you go or what you do and I love who I have forever.

Summer cuisine...

I love season changes. Love. I feel like when the weather changes, everything changes.  It always feels good the first time you can pull out all your summer wardrobe and greet your capris and shorts like an old friend you just saw at your 10 year class reunion.  It's always a ceremonial goodbye to say goodbye to my favorite coat and all the winter cartigans.  I feel like my winter brain is much more sluggish and frozen (much more gray matter if you will).  I feel like my spring brain has turned on and I love the green, the flowers, the rain, and planning vacations.  Winter brain only has to focus on what to get everyone for Christmas and how to avoid scraping the windshield.  The other aspect of season changing I have fully appreciated this week is food consumption. Let's be honest, apple cider is not that delicious. It's just hot apple juice. Big deal. I love spring/summer food.  A couple of days ago G and I cut a canteloupe in half and then filled the hole with vanilla ice cream. Divine. For mothers day G had a big bowl of raspberries, blueberries and strawberries just to eat and my tastebuds tingled and marveled.

Liv's favorite food is blueberries.  The best is that she has blue poo after eating them. I didn't tell G how many blueberries she ate and when he changed her diaper when he got home for work he was extremely concerned about what medical condition might cause her to have oompa loompa blue poo. I didn't tell him for a long time. I just let his Doctor brain run wild with all the possibilities....
We ate peach syrup on our waffles on Saturday morning. Delectable. We had our first watermelon last week but it was sadly a disappointment.  Picking a watermelon is way too much grocery store pressure for me because a watermelon is fruit commitment. If you pick a blah watermelon, you have a good 6 pounds of blah tastes like red juicy cardboard that you feel guilty throwing away but no one really likes.  I think we will try again and perhaps use the melon to help Liv get her two top teeth that are teasing us at present.  Maybe she just needs one of these:

I would just like to extend a warm welcome to summer food, blah watermelon and all. I am so excited for summer.  If you haven't had canteloupe and ice cream yet, make sure to go get a pen right now and jot it down on your grocery list. You won't be sorry you did.

 Boy I am sorry for wasting your brain and time putting that joke down.  I heard it in 7th grade choir class and I haven't forgotten it except for the girl telling me the joke had a honeydew who responded "honeydew" after the cantaloupe refused his proposal.  It's so weird what my brain retains in its 7th grade file. I just remember having a sweet mickey mouse shirt and a braided leather belt, wearing my headgear at night, having a crush on Robbie Blake, and owning my first Caribbean Breeze scented Teen Spirit Deodorant. I hope I never have to go back to 7th grade.  To compensate I will end with a worthwhile thought from our friend Elder Holland: