My mate the treasure trove...

It's not my anniversary, it's not G's birthday, it's months away from Valentines.  It's just Tuesday and I just want to write about my secret treasure.  What makes finding a treasure so exciting in the movies is opening the actual treasure chest to see what it has hidden inside (i.e. Goonies, don't even act like you don't love Chunk and the gang)

If you have a treasure you don't really want to tell everyone because then hoards of humans will be calling wanting to see it or borrow money etc.  Having a treasure chest is exciting enough but knowing the value of what is inside is even better.  When I got married everyone said that when you're dating you should keep both eyes wide open and then after marriage you just have to shut one eye because you realize that they are human and it's a letdown but you're already married so you don't go back.  Well, I'm sure those people meant well but those people have obviously not met my better than Goonies treasure:

 

The longer we are married, the better he gets.  He is like a bottomless treasure chest.  If you just met him you would think, "Well sure, he's a nice 30 year old man who wears his seatbelt, stops at red lights, never files for tax extensions, does his hometeaching, has a mature quiet demeanor, works hard and probably buys lemonade from little kids and donates to the salvation army red bucket at Christmas."   All of those things are true but this man is like a human seven layer bean dip of qualities that I didn't know could all be contained in a single human body.  I sometimes don't open my mouth when I hear other women talk about their husbands because I know I have the secret treasure and I can't believe that I really am sealed to something so unbelievable forever.

I didn't know anyone could have such unending patience and consistent love until I met this curly haired trophy.  He checks on Liv 4:1 ratio as much as I do, all night long, because he wants to make sure she is not being stolen and that she is breathing and warm enough.  He leaves me notes all over when he works all night because he knows I get scared.  He never ever forgets to floss and is the cleanest most organized person I know.  He makes Franklin Covey look like a joke because of how meticulous he is in his planning every night for the next day.  He sets his alarm for 5 so he can have personal scripture study no matter what while I drool in bed cemented to the sheets. He loves me how I need to be loved even writes down to be spontaneous on his planning because he knows I need it. He is on the same level as Abe Lincoln and Brent Harris for honesty and having integrity in his soul. He wants to help me and asks me all about the details of my day because he knows I need to discuss them.  He is funny, beats me at tetris at Racko, gives me the best back rubs and all the old ladies in our ward always tell me how handsome he is (duh, like I haven't figured that out).  He loves order and is exact and does his best, even in the details of his life.  One day we had forgotten to make the bed because the day had been so busy.  It was 9 pm at night and I went in and saw G making our bed.  I asked what in the heck he was doing and what time zone he was living in because we were going to sleep in a couple hours.  He just said how he just feels better if we do things right including making the bed.  One of the items that remind me of G is this:

                                                              

Exactness. In everything.  He never is last minute or does things sloppy or out of convenience.  I have never ever in over a year of marriage put away his shoes or had to clean up a single thing after him.  I don't think he's ever had a library fine, been late, missed scripture study, lost his temper, been unkind, or not folded his clothes in his life.  An accurate symbol of how I live my life is this:

I feel like most of my life has been lived like a garage sale inside of a tornado...disorganized, rushed and full of random items and things to do.  Watching how Garrett lives his life has been one of the most humbling inspiring things that has ever happened to me.  He makes goals and then he actually does them.  He printed us a binder that has all our family council agendas for us to fill in on Sunday.  He holds me for hours just because I love it.  He does the right thing because it's the right thing, not because he wants to look good or because he worries about what other people will think. He is so full of pure love and righteous desires. He has a quiet confidence and humility that I love.  He also loves to play and even when he has worked 13+ hours, and has to study and feels exhausted; he will always make sure to play a game with me before we go to sleep.  Sometimes I make him act out musicals and even though it goes against everything in his logical mind, he will sing "Open the Gates" from Newsies in the morning with my choreographing if I ask him.  Mostly I love when he comes home and he instantly does this:

I don't know where he came from or how come I get to be his wife but I will be thankful for the rest of my life.  He is my life. Sometimes I worry that he is one of the three nephites and that could get awkward in a few years when I start getting wrinkles and he doesn't age at all.  I had him get life insurance because sometimes I don't know if he'll get to stay on this side of the veil because I can't see what is keeping him here.  I mean sure, he's definitely for real.  I'm not saying that he doesn't get ticked when he slices at golf on a critical hole, or doesn't pass gas like he's at scout camp, or doesn't feel frustrated when someone cuts him off on the freeway,  but I am saying that even though he's not perfect, he's perfect for me in every way and it blows my mind sometimes at night when I roll over and remember who I get to be married to.  I'm so crazy about him, forever.

                             

 

Farm Day at the Bishops....

Welcome to little house on the prarie 2011.   Bishop Boone is 30 and his wife is 28 and they are some of the most unselfish consecrated people I have ever met.  They invited us to their house on Friday so Liv and I drove with April and her offspring for a long time until we finally arrived in a town called Bastian.  I saw two houses- the Boons and her parents who live across the river and road.  I asked why there were no neighbors and found out that they own 80 acres and their parents own 300 so basically the entire town of Bastian would more appropriately be named Boontown. It is such a different life here but I love it.  There is no air conditioning because the house was build before that even existed.

Bishop Dave Boon, a die hard BYU fan and one of the ponies walking around the property

After we saw the hogs, sheep, horses, minature ponies, ate wild blackberries and had fully saturated our flip flops with farm animal poop we walked to the cows, hundreds of cows that were just randomly walking around with no fence because as far as you could see belonged to the family.

 

Everything was going fine until the cows started mooing.  Not a cute barnyard Old MacDonald kind of moo but a low deep bellowing.  I don't know what they were all talking about but anytime one would start making that sound, Liv would make this face:

 

I was worried a bird was going to land on her lip it was out so far.  She wouldn't stop making this face until we left the cows.  We couldn't stop laughing.  She's so dang cute it's ridiculous.   Minus the cows, I think Liv's first farm exposure was a success.

Shot Day.

I hate getting shots.  I hate giving shots.  You would think in a day and age where we have hybrid cars, ipods, and even crustables (imagine explaining to the pioneers that we have packaged sandwiches with the crust removed in a cute circle shape for lunch) that we could come up with a better way to have life saving vaccines other than shooting them into our bodies by puncturing the skin with an instrument used to make quilts and for drug users.  I have never hated shots more than I did on Thursday when I had to take Liv to a doctor I had never met to get her 2 month immunizations.  After we sat in the pediatric waiting room with ugly 80's wallpaper and germ slimed walls we were led back to a room and I couldn't help feel guilty knowing that out of the 2 of us, I was the only one who knew what was going to happen and had the capacity to escape:

The door to freedom, the only way to escape....

While we waited I did a photo shoot of Liverpool (that's what G calls her) after they weighed and measured her and found out she is 14.6 lbs and 25 inches long.

Then the Doctor walked in.  I felt like I was meeting the cousin of the guy from Aladdin who is selling things at the beginning of the movie.  This was not the Arabian Nights Clinic but somehow Liv sensed something was going to happen because the second Dr.Safder walked in the room she busted out her best screeching tears and there wasn't even a shot needle in sight....yet.

 

We finally calmed her down and then a buxom woman in pepto bismal pink scrubs walked in with three shot needles and I wanted to punch her in the double chin because all of a sudden I felt very protective of my friend Liv. However, I restrained myself and realized this was a milestone not only for Liv, but for my motherhood.  As a mother there are plenty of times when I know that in order for Liv to grow and learn, she has to have experiences that bring pain, that are not fun and sometimes make you cry...hard.  I remembered a story my dad told me about when I was in nursery.  He said that he had brought me to to nursery and was watching me and a little boy came and pushed me down, well since I was his first and only birthright daughter at the time, his fathering reflexes kicked in and and walked right over and pushed that boy back.  Obviously this is not correct behavior but I understand why he did that.  Some of the most important events and lessons in my life have been learned by my own painful vaccine like experience that my mom could not rescue me from because I needed them. 

She could not rig the 10th grade student body election to help me win, she did not fly down to Ecuador and pick me up from my mission when I felt so alone except for a companion I couldn't understand and smelled really weird.  She did not keep me in a baby bjorn and never let me walk or date or get my heart broken, she had to let me learn.  Being in Bluefield is a good life vaccine right now.  I'm so grateful for my own mother and my own life vaccines that I need.

BB&S came to visit...

We were so excited to have family visiting that we cleaned the house and even put mints by the guest bed.  Brock,  Becky and Savannah came Friday night for dinner.  We had a BBQ, played games, talked, went to our favorite Chinese place 30 minutes away, and soaked up the family bonding rays.

The ceiling above our heads at Peking Chinese.  Authentic.

Friends...

Friends are a big deal.  In high school, the people you eat lunch with determined your social status and how many people signed your yearbook. You can't always choose is in your ward, on your team, or on your family tree.  You do choose your friends and I'm not just talking about the ego boosting red tag invites that involve a simple click of "confirm" when a friend request pops up much to your social delight.  I feel like true friends are one of life's greatest blessings.  I remember in Mrs. Glenn's third grade classroom she has a huge poster that said, "A friend is a gift you give yourself."  I remember learning long division and reading that and wondering what the heck it meant.  As I get older in my mortal probation, that 3rd grade poster has deeper meaning than ever before.  Friends, true friends, are gifts.  It doesn't matter where you go in the world because Heavenly Father seems to always have some gift wrapped presents in the form of friends waiting.  Sometimes they are not at all what I would envision for myself or imagine that they are what I need but they are always there.

I feel like I have come to know and love some of planet Earth's greatest crem de la crem human beings.  My deepest and truest friends are my family and being away has only validated that.  I remember getting best friend necklaces with my first best friend in 2nd grade. Her name was Lindsey Anderson.  It was nothing short of a ceremonial event of solemn commitment.  I remember one of the popular girls coming up to me in 5th grade with a piece of loose leaf paper from her hip trapper keeper and pronouncing, "Chelsey, you are my 18th best friend."  The funny part is I remember being so pleased that I was at least in the top 20. Friendship necklaces are now so out.  One of the way to prove that you are real friends with someone is to get a friendship tattoo:

Ha. Just kidding.  I do feel thankful though for friends, deep true friends who love you no matter what and no matter where.  1 of my friends here were not born in my same decade and if we were in high school I doubt we would have a single thing in common, we probably wouldn't have even signed each others yearbooks.  Her name is Elizabeth Zimmerman and she joined the church in April.  She is spitfire southern strong pillar of an outspoken woman with a heavy accent that demands I take off any "brain squeezers" (headbands) from Olivia's head when I bring her to church. She makes me laugh so hard.  I love her so much.

Besides Elizabeth, I also have a friend named April who has a husband in medical school and two children who are bonus items.  We decided to learn how to make eggs benedict one morning and she bought me the perfect egg frying pan.  More on frying eggs to come.  April can make the best friend eggs you've ever had.  Her dad used to make fried eggs at Dee's and passed on the secret of the perfect egg to her and she is now attempting to teach me:

We decided to do pedicures to perfect our summer toes.  We make plans at the beginning of the week and then carry them out; like discovering a giant ice cream shop that looks like what it sells in the middle of nothing. Move over coldstone.

 

 Then there is a woman named JoBeth Davis who is from the salt of the Earth club.  She would give Mother Teresa a run for her money.  If there's anything even close to service, she's on it.  I love her pure heart.  She lives honestly in the middle of nowhere.  I mean nowhere.  Like you in the middle of a random forest 40 miles away from me there is suddenly a house and that is where she lives.  We go walking in the park in the mornings with our strollers and talk about how we want to stop having bread dough for buns.  I love her.

We all need friends.  Otherwise who is going to live in our celestial culdesacs once this life is done? Doy. Think about it.  I love friends.  I miss these friends the most:

 

I love that not just our families, but ALL relationships go one forever according to D&C 130.  One of my favorite feature on the plan of salvation is that when you find the ultimate friend, the friend that is your everything, the friend that loves your love handles, all your weaknesses and makes you whole, that you can seal yourself to them.  Stronger than best friend necklaces, blood brothers, or friend tattoos, and much deeper than facebook confirmation is my friend that I really know is a gift straight from heaven, the best gift I could have ever had, far better and more inspiring and more handsome than I ever hoped for is mine forever.  I love him.

Romantic Dates....

When G and I were engaged so very long ago (a measly 16 months) I remember getting so stressed about looking my best. I remember doing crunches before bed lest a love handle creep in and suction to my side and my fiancee become repulsed and all dreams of becoming Chelsey Seibold be dashed eternally.  Not wearing mascara was not an option and I kept a little bottle of perfume, lip gloss and gum in my car and would have a 20 second pep up so I would look extra fresh for our romantic dates that we would elaborately plan and carry out.  It usually involved a bolus of creativity, visiting somewhere exciting and eating something extravagant. I mean the photo below is clearly how G and I look every day as we sweat in the humidity...not.   

Well, G and I wanted to go on a little date Tuesday night so we looked up this fun ice cream shop in the next town and found a fun little historic place one of the natives had told us about.  Well this was an occasion and called for me putting on my best (meaning replacing sweat pants with normal pants and brushing my teeth).  We got in the car and Liv started doing what she does best:

Then we looked at realized that we were almost out of gas and needed to fill up.  By the time we got to the gas station, we realized that there wasn't enough time for Gar to study, plus the shrieking child who has an incredible stamina had not lost her fervor so we settled for going to DQ which is 2.2 miles from our front door and going home.  Nothing like a romantic getaway to the shell gas station and a dilly bar to bring a scandalous spark to an ordinary Tuesday night.  G and I are now proud members of the blizzard club which gives us buy one get one free coupons and we recommend it.

Lemonade Lovin in the future culdesac...

Today I went to Kroger. Kroger is the eastern equivalent of Harmons or Smiths. Kind of like Mr. Krogers Christmas but a grocery store. It's the place Liv and I go most frequently on our field trips out of the house.  When I was outside in the humid heat there was a lemonade stand which would be cute except there were no little kids selling, just adults wearing official "Bluefield Lemonade Committee" t shirts. Real professional printed T shirts. Not puff paints.  (There are few things as ugly as puff paints, it's about in the same category as people who spray paint their cars or shoulder pads on prom dresses that should have never been born).  I was fascinated that these adults were having a lemonade stand. I knew the economy was bad in bluefield and the mean income is $25,000 but adult lemonade stands...this was a new extreme.

The lady handed me a cup as I walked in the store and I didn't really know what to do because I would feel really dumb giving a grown adult a quarter.  Then I read the sign and learned that in Bluefield West Virginia it is known as "America's natural air conditioned city" and any time the temp is over 90, the entire city gets free lemonade.  Free. Cup included. What a place. I don't understand why I get free lemonade for something I have no control over but I like the concept.  I think there should be a little more of the Bluefield spirit in the rest of the country.

I just finished throwing away an entire pan of marshmellow brownies. I was trying to make the image you see above. What I made doesn't deserve a picture.  They burned. Bad. How can you tell if brownies are burning because they are already brown to begin with? Dumb. I don't even like brownies. But I do like Liv so I am posting a pic in her honor because she took her longest nap of her whole existence today.  That is a miracle.  Liv does not like naps. I love Liv. I love naps. I especially love when Liv naps so today was a great breakthrough.  Hopefully a tradition we can turn into a habit.

She's so cute even though she has balding old man hair with culdesacs.  I love culdesacs and I used to be jealous as a girl of Lauren McEuen because she lived in a culdesac and we didn't.  You know how the scriptures teach that their will be a mansion prepared in heaven for the righteous?  Well, I don't care how cool the mansion is, what I'm interested in more is celestial culdesacs.  I always plan who I want Gar and I to live by for the rest of eternity.  A mansion would be boring if there were no fun people to share it with.  I think Abraham Lincoln would be a good neighbor, he would definitely return anything he borrowed (except I hope he gets a new wife because Mary Todd seems a little much), I also think Amelia Earhart would be a fun neighbor, Douglas Whitney, Kay, my third grade teacher Mrs. Glenn, in addition to family, and old friends that I haven't seen in awhile but would never want lose, they belong in the dream team culdesac as well.

Just picture it.  Heaven wouldn't be heaven if you just end up living on a sweet mansion swimming in your pool on an isolated cloud of real estate with just the two of you.  The celestial culdesacs are going to be the best city planning of all eternity.  The ultimate neighbors all the time.  Imagine having a trunk or treat with the best of the best, Einstein, your favorite friend from 1st grade, Mother Teresa, Michael Jordan, everyone.  There will definitely need to be good golf green for Nick, Garrett and the bros that is close by, maybe shared by the entire culdesac.  I can't wait. I love having neighbors.  They're not only good for borrowing things, but its a great relationship- a step above facebook, less obligatory than friends, and save on gas if you do think they're cool.  Our neighbors here are a garden variety.  The family two doors down belongs on Jerry Springer.  Next door is man named Bryce with a beard that would not keep his face warm in the cold, it's actually more like an extended soul patch, who works on the railroad and has a dog that he walks almost as often as Liv and I go for walks.  Next to them is Steve and Angie who pick blackberries and make us a dessert that we don't like but we act like we do.  They also have a dog.  I think everyone around here has a little dog.  It's basically the same thing as a baby because everyone is always feeding it, bathing it and taking it on walks.  That's pretty much what Liv and I do all day. I suppose we could have bought a little dog awhile ago.  I'm so glad we have her instead.