In Love

The heart is a funny thing.  It yearns, and swells and breaks and opens.

I fell in love a few months ago.  I fell hard.  It wasn't like the last time.  Last time it was that slow, approachable, don't know what you got until it's gone type of love.  But this last time.  BAM.  Right in my gut and it hasn't let up since.

We moved into this rental house that is near the Annisquam River in Massachusetts.  One recent Saturday morning, I happened to hear a radio story that mentioned a millionaire, who before he became one, had a sister that drown in the river near the turn of the century and once he made his millions, he dedicated most of his time and resources to creating an anti-gravity device, because he was convinced that is why she drown.  Because of gravity.  

I remember looking out my window that Saturday morning, watching the ice caps flow with the current tide.  I watched the river for a few moments and thought about that man over a hundred years ago.  I smirked.  Not at his heartache or loss.  I can't imagine.  But because my bones tingled a little.  I felt like gravity--a force of nature--is the exact thing that brought me to this town.  My new love.

I married an adventurer.  I've already acquiesced to the fact that we will always be that family making plans, trying new things and "settling down" may be a relative term I will have make up my own definition to.  It's taken me a while to say this comfortably and without exasperation and hands tossed in the air like a frustrated shop keeper looking for a lost key.  This is my lot.  This is our lot.  And it's a good one.

We have somehow ended up in this old fishing town north of Boston, Gloucester, Massachusetts.  (2 things. #1: it pronounced glos-ter if you're not from here, glos-tah if you're a native.  #2: I'm still working on trying to spell Massachusetts without using spell check.  Don't tell my 4th grade teacher...or my mom.  Hi mom!)

Cheap winter rent and the lure of the ocean is how we found it.  It wasn't on our radar when making plans for our trek east.  I trusted Chris when he picked a spot to bring the rest of our brood on one of his solo trips here.  We arrive, unpack a few suitcases, try to get as settled as you can when you've just sold 75% of your belongings and are sleeping in something of a summer vacation rental.  In the winter.

Our first Sunday here, we took a drive.  "You have to see the coast line," he tells me.  With everyone piled in the van, we wander past shops and old homes.  We talk about the fishing history, the Perfect Storm history, the oldest seaport in North America history.  It's a cool place to be if you like history.

Then we come around this bend.  And my heart stopped.  badaBeat, badaBeat, badaBeat, badaBOOM. And without warning, tears flowed quietly and quickly down my cheeks.  Everything clicked.  Everything was clear.  If anyone tells you they don't believe in love striking unexpectedly, you can tell them this story.  Because I fell in love with this old, cranky town On. The. Spot.  I don't know what biological thing occurred or neurons fired or strange pheromones of the ocean air got a hold of me.  But I'm telling you I love this place.  Love.  It's old.  Real old.  Like 1623 and 1973 mixed up old.  The roads are terrible.  There are abandoned fisheries right in middle of town, which is also in the middle of the beach.  Nearly every grocery store employee I've met here either hates me, or their job, I can't decide which.  The local movie theatre is, umm, dilapidated, run down quaint?  It's been winter ever since we got here.  Not just winter.  But the town has run out of funds to plow the roads and keep them salted kind of winter.  Like, it feels 10 degrees below zero because the wind won't stop blowing winter.  But I don't care.  Because I am in love.

I still laugh a little when I think that perfect San Diego was also in the running for this new job.  Did I mention that?  San Diego!  Summer year round San Diego! Poppin sunsets like candy San Diego!  Temps below 60 degrees require sweaters and hot chocolate San Diego!  We could have picked let's go the beach in swimsuits and swim in the water while the turkey cooks during Thanksgiving San Diego!  But the western current wasn't meant for us.  We were lured, pulled, beckoned to this cold, easterly, storm ridden peak of the state.

And after two days of living in it, I found love.  So this is where we stay.

Until the next, continental shift.

I Do (the dishes)

Seven years ago, I wore an ivory dress (it's a red head, fair skin thing) and told my best friend I was legally and emotionally ready to spend the rest of my life (and the next) with him.

Fifteen minutes before the ceremony, I was nervous.  Sweaty palms, should I really be doing this, nervous.  I mean, MARRIAGE!  Come on.  It is serious business, despite the Bravo Channel and Kardashians trying to convince you otherwise. 

I'll never forget that first morning after the vows were said, dances were danced and cake was eaten. I went to check out from our honeymoon suite while Chris brought the car around.  

"Thank you for staying with us Mrs. Gallagher," the woman behind the front desk smiled and handed me a receipt. 

Mrs. Gallagher?  My heart jumped a little.  Both in excitement and panic.  I was no longer a single person.  Both in identity and name.  It was the first time I had been called by this new "Mrs." business.  She called me by a completely different name than the one I had been going by for the last 25 years.  I was no longer on my own.  Sickness.  Health.  Rich.  Poor.  Joy.  Sorrow.  Good.  Bad.  I said "I do" to all of it.  All of it.      

I was still feeling a little anxious as I walked out the front lobby to my waiting "Mr."  He was leaning against my passenger door with a big grin on his face.  

"Ready?" he snuck a quick kiss before he opened my door.

I took a deep breath.  I smiled back at him.  Yes.  I answered.  Yes I am.  

Seven years later, I've realized there is waaaaaay more involved in married life than what those quick exchange of traditional vows take you through.  Sickness?  Sorrow?  Poor?  Sure.  Health?  Good?  Joy?  Absolutely.  But if I were to write our vows over again, I would include things like:

dirty clothes on the floor and in the hamper  

NBA Playoffs and So You Think You Can Dance.

heated arguments and equally heated making up

hot dog dinners and vegetable lasagna  

job changes and a few more job changes

mood swings and thinning hair 

dirty dishes and not having to do dishes for a week

shopping sprees and 'don't use the card until Friday' 

no children and more children than you think you deserve

trips to Hawaii and trips to the gas station (being equally excited about both at different stages in your life)

brief moments of wondering what the #!%* were you thinking when you agreed to get married and enduring years of not even wanting to imagine what you're life would be like without each other.

It's been a really great seven years.

We enjoyed a lovely anniversary together.  Most of it was spent with the 3 (and 3/4) little munchkins we created together.  I try not to over romanticize our life.  It is not perfect.  But how can I be anything but grateful when I have these faces calling me wife and mom?  

{A few snapshots from our day.  At the playground, splash park, and finding bugs in the backyard.  Fun day.}  

  

       

Dear Chris

Remember when you took me to that Josh Turner concert? We loved singing along and swaying together to all the songs. We were so close to the stage! Although it was such a fun night out with you, I still prefer when you drive me around and sing along to the radio about being soul mates and how you love the sway of my hips.

I remember, before I knew I loved you, I thought your eyes were beautiful. Day one actually. When we first shook hands that ran through my head. Beautiful, blue eyes. Now I have three pairs of them that look into everyday while you're at work. It helps me not miss you so much. Our babies all have your sparkly eyes.

Remember Hawaii? Driving with you along the coast with the top down, every night at sunset. I didn't know my heart had it's own song until then.

Do you remember when it was just us? We made plans minutes before we jumped in the car. We ordered sushi because it was a Tuesday. We slept in on Sundays. Sometimes we would buy tickets to two movies in the same day. You'd make me get a treat, even if I told you I didn't want one.

I remember those days. Some days it's a little cloudier than others. But I remember how in love with you I was.

Our life is a little different now. I have to keep a calendar to remember the nights you're working late or when the kid's doctor appointment is. Spontaneous car rides are planned days in advance. I don't think I would be able to sleep in even if I could.

My life is diaper changes, afternoon snacks, sippy cups, Cheerios at church, dishes, dishes, laundry and more dishes, laundry and then more diaper changes. But I'm happier now than I can ever remember. Happier than an extra treat at the movie theatre. Happier than boogie boarding 4 foot waves at Big Beach in Maui.

I love you more now than yesterday. Thank you for making me a mommy. All four us adore you.



Now hurry home! It's Friday afternoon. Which means we are all ready for two whole days of daddy.

How We Celebrated Pioneer Day (Hooray!)

Hooray for the 24th of July!

We celebrated this lovely Utah holiday in the following ways:

Ran a 5k with my smoking fast sister.

Ate a pancake breakfast with above mentioned sister after above mentioned race in the darling town of Charleston.

Fed babies with husband after he decided to take the day off. (Hooray!)

Took babies out in public while husband and I ate burgers at the Train Place. (Not the real name, but I'm pretty sure that's what us locals call it.)

Smiled at strangers and thanked them for their compliments of above mentioned babies.

Tried not to be rude when I gently removed stranger sticky toddler finger from hand of one of our babies. (He was cute! I just didn't want his ketchup and melted ice cream on my baby's fingers.)

Scoffed at husband for his large sugary drink choice at Maverick Gas Station. (Mountain Dew. Puuuuke.)

Became aware of the glass house I constantly reside in as I downed my frozen yogurt cone AND large sugary drink of another variety.

Drove up giant hill I ran last year.

Fed babies. Bathed little darlings. Read Goodnight Moon three times. Sang three bedtime songs. Said three short thankful prayers for having such a great day. Kissed three foreheads. Sighed three times.

Sent husband to Subway for dinner.

Talked to husband on phone for contingency plan after learning Subway was closed.

Planned for Chinese dinner.

Closed.

Remembered the trade off of living in a small town and had a thought that lack of planning and groceries with the combination of living in a small town will make me chubby.

Kentucky Fried Chicken, we do chicken....late!

The pioneers ate fried chicken, right?

Tally Ho!

That is exactly what I felt like saying when we pulled out of our driveway on Monday. On a family outing. Whew. We finally acquired vehicular transportation suitable for 2 parents, 3 babies and that ever important, never leave home without it, partridge in a pear tree.

To Cascade Springs we go! We left around noon. Not bad considering the party wanted to leave around 11. Only an hour behind? Cherry! And I only packed 3 bags. A diaper/changing bag. A feeding/bottle bag. And a small backpack with small amounts of same contents of before mentioned bags to take along on the walk. (Keeping up so far?) We planned to be gone about 3 hours. So packing was intense. (No sarcasm there.) Just a short laundry list of stuff, er - stuffed into the bags. 6 bottles. One can of formula. 8 burp cloths. 6 onsies. (Little Gabe's spit up is the stuff of legends. Entire outfits done, ker-put with one massive burp.) 3 pairs of pants. 3 sleepers. (OK, so I might have overdone it slightly.) 3 beanie hats. 3 sun hats. You never know the weather up in the tops of the mountains. 3 jackets. 12 diapers. 1 mini pack of wipes. Bottle of sunblock. 55 SPF of course, for me and the wee ones. 2 Subway sandwiches. 2 brave souls and 3 darlings who I suspect never really knew we went out of the house.

My sister's family were the brains behind this trip. Meaning it was their idea. They were great to do all the extra waiting while babies were fed, burped, packed up, changed etc. My little brother and dad also came along. I called and invited them the night before. I acted all casual, like it would be fun if they came. (Which it is. Always.) But really, I was glad for the extra hands.

So we drove and parked with our food, ready to picnic, only to be told by the friendly Park Ranger, who looked like he could also be very convincing in a pirate reenactment, that there is no picnicking. OK, time out here. Really National Park? Really? You expect Americans to come to a park just to look at nature? Really? We gather and eat! That is what we do! In fact, I'm pretty sure 'gather and eat' is part of the Preamble of the US Constitution. 'We the people, in order to form a more perfect union, get together on national holidays and eat.' I'm paraphrasing of course. Alright, so we didn't officially 'picnic' at a table. But our large, family cars served us well.

Out of the driveway? Check. Arrive safely at destination? Check. Lunch? Check. Now to walk around in nature. In fact, about ten minutes into our walk, I had to remind myself to look around. It was such a crazy rigmarole getting the kidlets in their jackets, hats, (I went with the beanies) buckled with covers over their seats, that I almost forgot why we were there.

It's amazing what people will tell you when you are pushing a pram made for three.

"Triplets huh? I thought having twins was bad enough!" Said the lady who was standing next to her twin teenagers.

"Triplets! Oh my! I have to ask, are you breastfeeding?" Seriously. Straight to the breastfeeding. But don't worry, it was quickly chased with a story of her neighbor whose 18 month old bit a hole in her nipple. I'm not kidding about this. This was an actual conversation I had on the trails of Cascade Springs.

"Are there three babies in there?" I'm a polite person. So the sarcasm in my brain didn't come through. I really wanted to tell them we were pushing around our three chihuahuas, Mitzi, Yarrow and Hank.

We were stopped a few times. Smiled at a lot. It wasn't your average friendly holiday smile. It was more of a "you must have your hands full if you're pushing a stroller that size around!" smile. All in all, it was a very successful trip. The babies seemed to thoroughly enjoy nature. Buckled in their stroller, with their hats nearly over their eyes, bundled in jackets, with a canopy and cover over them. Oh yeah, I'm sure they had a great time looking for the fish. I know I did. Nature is awesome. Getting out of the house is awesome. Spending time with your most favorite people in the world (although not all of my favorite people were there) is awesome. Walking behind your husband pushing the stroller made for three is awesome. The residual back comments were probably my favorite.

"Did you see that? There were three. Sheesh."

"Whoa. That does not look fun."

"...I know, triplets. I saw." Head shaking in disbelief.

Well, believe it people. We have three kids the same age. And a mini van. And a modest size rambler in an American suburb. And we went on a family picnic on Memorial Day. And I love every second of it all.

Sorry no pictures. I'll say it's because I wanted to leave this post as a cliff hanger. Pictures to come. Come back and check it out. Not because I forgot my camera in the car and I now have to patiently wait for my sister to email the ones she took with her camera. No, I'll go with the first reason. Cliff hanger. Wooooo. Aren't you excited?

Fine Times, Good Times, Fun Times, Times Square...

Such a lucky girl I am to have such fun sisters.  Seriously.  If you don't have a sister - go find one.  I could see if one of mine would be in your area to loan out for the day.  I promise you won't be disappointed.  Mine are just too great.  My youngest sister, the baby, the bambino girlie of our family came to the great NE. (Northeast, that is.)  She came for one last hurrah and "just us girls" inspired activities before she went off to college.  

Ok - quick digression... College?  Seriously Jenna?!  When did that happen?  Remember the year we moved to the mountains? (Probably not, you were 2!)  It had snowed so much that winter that our walkway was piled with enormous mounds of snow.  I still see your little two year old body, dwarfed by the snow stack, walking up and down that walk while you "helped" moved things in.  Your dolly.  Your blanket.  A random bowl mom would find for you.  Now you're going to a big university?  Where there will be boys (they better keep their distance those no good, lousy...oops, sorry --did I type that outloud?)and professors and dorms and no curfew and your old enough to do that legally?  Without written consent from mom?  What?  My little Jennaben.  It would be cliche and appropriate to say that it makes me feel old that you are off to your next big adventure.  But I won't say that.  I'm thrilled for you.  My excitement far exceeds the weight of the years it should put on my shoulders.   Anyway, back to your visit...

Newport - always amazing.  Even more super spectacular when we went together.  Eating chowdah and clam cakes and stuffies (I HEART stuffies) at Flo's with an ocean view off the balcony?  Pure clam shack heaven.  The beach?  Your sand mermaid was absolutely inspiring.  Even with her smooshed head that kind of sunk into the sand like she was lying on a really bad pillow.  Still awesome. (Sorry no pics of that.  Trust me, it was sweet.)  Thanks for making me feel like your old sister still has a little something something.  I don't think the guys in the tiny sports car would have said "hi ladies" in their 'we are the coolest dudes you will ever meet in Rhode Island - nay the world' tone if it were just me.  And maybe someday, on your way to become a marine biologist (after your whale riding course) you can write a research paper on why seagulls are so smart and people that leave their food out in the open and their towels unattended are so not smart.  Oh!  And our beach picnic!  Who knew a styrofoam cooler could carry so much joy and delicious treasures!  

How cool was the Rosecliff Mansion?  I loved that you felt the Great Gatsby's presence even before you knew it was filmed there.  Loved it.  We should've taken a real spin around that ballroom.  What's the worse they would've done?  Asked us to stop?  Next time.  In honor of all the horrific 70's socialite dresses that were on display upstairs, you can pretend this photo is from that era.  Even though 98% of those dresses made me throw up in my mouth a little, I think you would've looked quite stunning in six of them.  Yes, six.  The rest, blah!  That was a bad era for socialites.  I'll be continuing my daydreams on the lawn of the turn of the century Vanderbilt's summer home, thank you.   

New York! Broadway! Times Sqaure! The subway! Battery Park! Central Park! Manhattan Temple! Tolls! Traffic! Hot dog carts! Pretzel carts! In The Heights! Canal street! Crazy people! Illegal handbag selling! Disgusting parking garage bathrooms! That was one amazing day, wasn't it? Hot time in the big city.  I feel like we could have done 96 thousand more things! 

So, thank you!  Thank you for always having a good time no matter what we are doing.  Thanks for your adventurous spirit.  (So proud of you trying all the New England fare!  Loster, New England chowdah...)  I really am proud of the amazing young woman you have grown up to be.  I hope you'll forgive your overly sentimental sister and her "remember when" speeches every time you hit a major (or minor) milestone.  I truly am inspired by your integrity, grace, virtue, sense of adventure and gentle, happy spirit you bring with you everywhere you go.   

So go do your conquering and exploring and don't be afraid to put yourself out there.  In the spirit of broadway, remember, "those who don't try, never look foolish!"

(You and I both know it's the "foolish" looking ones who are having all the fun and adventures!)

(And keep not letting the boys kiss you!)

Worth a Thousand Words

I've been missing my ability to post pictures this summer.  I've been taking them.  But somehow, I ended up with a computer that does not want to cooperate with pictures.  If I was a super smart computer genius, I'm sure I would've figured something out.  But it turns out that I'm a little lazy when it comes to figuring out technical difficulties.  

When I get back to a picture friendly computer, I think I'll post just a bunch of random pictures that I have on there since JANUARY!  In the meantime, how about a recap of some goings on?  These aren't necessarily in chronological order.

1 - Imagine several pictures of some of the cutest kids you've seen in your life.  All siblings and cousins.  Two brothers with glasses and sometimes a look of sweetness - but most of the time, it seems they have something up their sleeve!  A little one year old girl (adorable of course) who has no problem keeping up with her big brothers.  And another little one year old with curly, blond locks.  He is the spitting image of his mom when she was his age.  Except he is SOLID.  I'm talking if you don't get out of his way when he is headed toward something, he could plow you over.  He has an amazing smile and SO much energy.  I hung out with this crew and their amazing parents for a law school graduation.  

2 - The beach!  Now we are at the beach.  Fun friends.  Fun family.  Nice day.  Wiffle ball game that lasted FOR - E - VER.  More days at the beach...

3 - Lobster Fest 09 at Grandpa Ray's.  Lots of lobster, lots of clams, lots of Portuguese sausage.  Lots of loud, fun family.  Lots of picture by Grandma Linda!  I think Chris' final lobster count was three.  I was a lightweight and only had one.  I loved watching the butter drip down his chin.  He was in lobster heaven.

4- Running.  And running.  And running.  Running for 33 hours straight.  Sometimes I was running.  Sometimes I was cheering on other runners.  And once, for two hours during those 33 hours, I was asleep.  Someday, I'm going to write in more detail about this race.  It has, so far, been one of the most amazing, physical accomplishments I've ever done.  Hugs and tears and lots of body glide jokes.  

5- Hanging with the fam in Utah.   Sunday comics, Sunday naps.  Giving Mindy a hard time about the Bacherolette.  Watching Michael be patient while said tv show was being watched.  Listening to McKay talk about EFY.  Jenna rocking the candy machine route with me. (I still can't believe you'd never been to Quiznos crazy girl!) Mom and Dad and their busy, busy lives!  

6- Walking with Chris in downtown Newport.  Stopping for ice cream and talking about the boat we are going to own one day.  The sweet new Red Sox hat he bought for me.

7- Red Sox - Yankees game!!  In Yankee stadium.  Being heckled by Yankees fans.  Martinez hitting a home run to bring the Sox up one.  Then, watching in dismay as Damon and Teixeira hit back to back home runs.  Disappointing.  But kind of fun to watch the stadium GO CRAZY.  I also snacked on a hot dog.  Ball park dogs.  Can't beat em.  Walking to the train amidst frenzied Yankees fans shouting, "SWEEP! SWEEP! SWEEP!"  Or "BOSTON SU-UCKS! BOSTON SU-UCKS!"  Don't worry, I rocked my pink, Pedroia jersey with pride.  Made a lot of instant friends in the form of other Boston fans.  Instant camaraderie among the rabid Yanks.  

8- Portland wedding.  Beautiful bride.  Doting groom.  Wedding guests crunching on ice during the 95 degree ceremony.

9- Oregon coast with fun Karen and her beautiful little girl. (Haylee, you made me so happy saying my name the whole time I was there!) Tillamook cheese factory.  Cheese samples. Can you say black pepper white cheddar? Or how about horseradish cheese?  Wow.  Blog stalking.  I feel like less of a weirdo when I do it with someone else.  Which reminds me, if you have a blog tracker - you should lose it.  It makes blog stalking very inconvenient! 

10- Boston Temple with hubby.  So beautiful.  I love to see the temple.  I love to go with Chris.  I can't think of when I'm happier than when we are there together.      

Hmmm, so not as great as looking at pictures of these events, but your imagination is probably so much better.

Just Call Me

Runner 9 for the next 36 hours.

I'm Not in Kansas Anymore

Well, I never started there. But you get the reference. I am reminded of how far away I am from my Utah home by the copious (my word of the day) amount of rain that is falling. Bucket and buckets. Raining and raining and raining.

It's not the huge downpour that I experienced time after time in PA last summer. (I'm sure that is coming later in the season.) It's just the fact that when it rains out here, it rains and rains and rains. It's been raining since yesterday! I know I shouldn't be shocked by that. But when you come from a desert state, a rain storm is any amount of precipitation that lasts longer than 10 minutes. But I don't mind. Truly. I packed two Mary Poppins-like umbrellas. So I don't mind venturing outside. It is also quite nice to fall asleep to the sound of clouds weeping against the windows. And if I squint my ears, the sound of rain falling on the rain gutter sounds like wind chimes.

Photo by Marcel Germain

PS - Does anyone know what an Aldi grocery store is all about? It's the strangest market I've ever been in. Please share if you know their business model. I'm confused. Also, not sure if I used "copious" correctly in above sentence. Does it work with singular nouns? Copious amounts of rain? Would that have been correct? Mrs. D, English teacher, help me out on this one.

New Home Sweet Home

We made it. House cleaned out. Things packed up. Ninety percent of our belongings are in storage. I hope they will forgive me someday. The other ten percent was crammed into our little sedan while we set course for the east. 36 hours of drive time and too few precious hours spent with family along the way, we are now in the Constitution state. M. Jodi Rell my new governor, American Robin my state new bird and trees, trees, trees my new landscape. Connecticut will be our home for the summer months. I think I'll like it here. After all, New York is only 2 hours away.

A couple of things I learned and or observed on our drive:

I have no desire to live in Wyoming. (Sorry M&A. Your place was great, and I will visit. I'd just never live there. Nothing personal Wyomingites. To each his own.)

Chris does not like Michael McLean. (Not even Celebrating the Light! Sometimes I don't even know who I married.)

There are tricky, dirty speed traps near Lincoln, NE. Watch out if you are passing through. (Thanks, by the way, Mr. NE Officer for the warning instead of the double fine speeding ticket. We're still grateful.)

Chris thought Iowa had rolling hills. To me they looked more like large dirt mounds.

Notre Dame campus is pretty.

John Wooden really is an amazing person.

I loved the quaintness of all of the adorable farm houses I saw on the way here. It really did feel like we were passing through the heart of America. It made me want to go buy a Ford truck. Or eat corn. Or have a pie eating contest. Or go down to the fishing hole. God Bless the USA!

For how many toll roads there are in the east, you would think the roads would be in better shape. (I'm still very bitter about giving our money to various DOT's along the way.)

Total drive time per driver:
K: 3.5 hours
C: The rest. He's my hero! Can I take a minute to boast about what an amazing person I married? Thanks for driving 97 percent of the way dear. This act alone makes up for the fact that you haven't shaved your beard in what seems like months. (Although it's only been days.) But there's more. I love you for being so adventurous and easing my mind about moving, again. If not for you, I would not have the gumption to do this year two. Thanks for seeing past my fret and knowing that everything would work out. I love the time we have together. The long drives, the comfortable silence, the way you didn't complain when I fell asleep on the home stretch, eating at Subway instead of Burger King, the extra night in Omaha to hang a little longer with my sister, forgiving me quickly for locking the keys in the car in Illinois, driving, driving, driving, driving because you know I hate it. Here's to another great summer adventure. Love you.

One more CT fact: State Animal is the Sperm Whale. Huh huh, she said "whale."

Laughing Out Loud

Why? Why do I literally feel like having a good old chuckle?

I have more to do than time to do it. I have boxes to pack. Bathrooms to clean. Things to wrap up in bubble wrap. Mattresses to wrap up in mattress wrap. Laundry. Random items that are awaiting a decision of "throw away" or "keep." Lots of stuff to do. And yet, these words are proof that at this moment, I am not doing any of those things.

Isn't that hilarious to anyone else? Is it just me?

And speaking of laughing out loud, I think modern communication is ruining the English language. I'm going to be that nerd that fights it. YOU instead of u. ARE instead of r. GREAT instead of gr8. I wake up in a cold sweat sometimes because I think that punctuation might disappear all together because of texting. I wake up pawing at the sheets, "Where is that period? What that a question?!? I'll never know!!" and who capitalizes anymore? is not capitalizing trendy or are our pinky's becoming weaker? All languages evolve. I'm sure there was some 15th century nerd girl that said at one point,

"Me doth protest the increasing manor in which many acquaintances and fine people I know of upstanding reputations and caliber have been replacing the word "ye" with "yoo." It gives me the distinct impression that one is attempting to turn me into a sheep."

Also - in my scenario, I'd like to imagine this 'nerdy' girl was prohibited from learning how to read. You know, 'man smarter than woman,' 'woman make lye soap while smart man drink ale and barter,' mentality of way back then. She is secretly smart. Then one day her father's landlord discovers she can read and punishes her by placing her in the stocks and everyone throws lettuce at her. She takes the humiliation. Doesn't cower. Even when her own father is forced to throw a rotten tomato at his own daughter or else he and his family (six kids, wife died giving birth to the youngest) will be dismissed from their home by the mean landlord. She becomes emboldened and inspired and decides to teach other young girls how to read. "They cannot place every one of us in the stocks!" She becomes a mythical hero and is mentioned one day on 'Reading Rainbow.' YOU DON'T HAVE TO TAKE MY WORD FOR IT...


What in the world? What was that? What is wrong with me? I'm stepping away from the computer. Back to work. L8r.

Twilight Zone Friday

Disclaimer: All of the following stories are true! Any similarities to characters living is probably because I am talking about real people in real stories.

(Oh, and this happened like, 3 Fridays ago.)


We have a few candy machines around the valley. Most of these machines were pre-placed when we bought the routes. One of these machines happened to be in a bar in a certain town in the far west part of the county. I'm not thrilled when I have to check this machine. It's a good old boy bar. Dark, drinking, old guys just sitting around telling dirty jokes. I only go when its absolutely necessary. Friday happened to be one of those days. I walk into the bar and immediately notice something is different. Our machine that supplies pistachios and hot tamales to the patrons was not in its usual place. I start doing a scan of the room. (Remember, it's usually a little dim.) My eyes are searching, searching, searching....what in the?! Is that a pole? Is that a stage? Is that woman...? Oh geez. Okay. They have done some remodeling - er - something like that. I find a proprietor and they show me where our machine ended up. Which is in a back room near the kitchen. They tell me they don't have a place for it anymore. Whew. No problem. We don't mind AT ALL. I did learn what an SOB license is for a place of business. (It's not what you think, no female dogs in this acronym.)

On a related tangent, if anyone would like a lovely candy machine in their place of business (preferably without an SOB license) - let me know!

Later that day...(as in 15 minutes later)

I am standing in line at a credit union ready to deposit my cache of quarters I had just acquired. Ahead of me in line is a young girl who at first I thought was just giving me the staaare. You've seen it. The look of a young'n who hasn't learned the social rules of straight staring at someone for long periods of time in public. Although, she did look like she was 11 or 12, I thought it odd she hadn't grown out of it. I did a quick check of my shirt, nope, no mustard stains. Zipper up? Yup. I give her a quick glance. She then begins to mouth the words (I'm not making this up) very slowly, help me.

What?! This time it is me who is staaaaring. Again, help me. This time she points with her eyes to the man at the teller window she is standing in line with. Oh geez. My mind racing with a million thoughts while I scramble for a phone. Abduction? Relative? Bank robber? I realized I didn't bring my phone in. The man in front of me did - he is on it. Tap on the shoulder, explanation of why I need to use his phone, NOW, and next thing I know I am on the phone with a 911 operator.

Meanwhile, the man and little girl is walking out of the credit union. My phone partner follows them out and gets a license plate number while I am trying to remember the street I am on to tell the operator.

PAUSE - Okay, can you believe this? Even while it was happening I couldn't believe it was happening. May I reiterate that this is a true story? Okay, you can push the play button...

The two drive away in a big red truck. The police were on it. As soon as they crossed the intersection and headed east, a cruiser was right behind them. Then, the truck makes an unusual left turn and cuts across a parking lot and starts heading north! Something had to up, right? They didn't get far. Two troopers pulled the man over. During this mini chase, I am still on the phone with the operator. She knows the truck has been pulled over and asks me to wait at the credit union for questioning. And I hang up with her. And wait. And wait. And wait.

It was probably only 10, maybe 15 minutes, but it seemed like 4 hours. I really needed to know if this was a legit "situation." Finally, an officer pulls into the parking lot. I meet him at his window, not giving him a chance to park or get out. Is everything okay? Is that girl okay? Was she in trouble? The officer sighs and seems relaxed.

So, here is what happened. The girl had gotten in trouble at school for graffiti vandalism the day before. Her parents were separated and her dad (the man she pointed to with her eyes) had just picked her up from her mom's house. It was here that mom told dad what a naughty girl she had been at school. Apparently both parents were pretty upset. When she visits dad, it is usually a fun weekend of Nintendo, movies and other things she doesn't do at mom's. She was worried she wouldn't be able to do those things. Furthermore, while the two police cars had her dad pulled over and were talking to him outside, she was on the phone with her mom telling her to call the police because they were being followed. (sink in, sink in, sink in....)

What a little manipulator! Are you serious? There was no abduction, no kidnapping. It was the strangest way to get out of trouble I had ever heard of! Did she think I wouldn't tell the police that she is the one who said help me? Did she think her dad wouldn't find that out? Did she think that the trauma of being pulled over and accused of kidnapping would make her dad forget the whole graffiti incident and let her play Donkey Kong after all?

The sheriff told me I did the right thing. Of course I should have called. I couldn't help but feeling little taken advantage of. I'm only human after all. I hope her parents include in her punishment a reading and analytical essay of The Boy Who Cried Wolf.

Unbelievable.

Steel Guitar and Non-Smoking Bar

Josh Turner Concert
1.29.09

"I've got a home down by the river. I'm married to the woman of my dreams. Got a good truck that gets me down the highway. Everything's perfect or so it seems. Mama and daddy come by sometimes...and everything is fine."



Acoustically, I loved this night. A steel guitar, fiddle, mandolin...My ho down, blue grass, Boil Em Cabbage Down, alter-ego was channeled periodically throughout the night.

The Depot is an awesome venue. So small. We were so close. So fun. And as mentioned in the post title, it was a non-smoking joint. So we were free to yell and scream without pain in the old lungs the next day.

He's really not much of an entertainer. Not the flashy type. I think that is part of his charm. But all his songs sounded just like they do on his albums! (Except the Trisha Yearwood duet. His lovely wife filled in for that one.) I truly enjoyed myself.

These guys I loved! They opened for JT. (That's what his friends call him.) Joy and Eric is what they called themselves. They are local. And folksy. Loved it.

The reason we came. This man loves him some Josh Turner. I had a wonderful time dear. Thanks for taking me. I loved the concert. Yes, you are my soul mate. Yes, I would ride down streets of fire with you. Yes, I know you are a one woman man. Yes, I know you would like to fish and hunt squirrels way down south too. You are crazy, but I love you.

5000 Miles

Okay, not really. Just 3.1.

It was a way to say good bye to 2008!

The 5K

2008, we thought you were great.
But we wanted to run you out of town.
So we laced up our shoes,
With the sky a frigid blue,
Ran up the road, then back down.

The crowd was real small
We didn't care at all.
A few voices made loud cheer-
Applause for ALL finishers.

The after race raffle was tops.
All glad we came, rather running or sane.
The award for loudest talker
due to headphones...goes to pops!






The last two pictures were directly pirated from Mindy's blog. No shame. Min, please don't sue me for copyright infringement. (Besides, I know a 3rd year law student...so watch out!)

All in all, this was a super fun family outing on 12/31/08. Tradition anyone?

fyi - the poem was done in like 5 minutes, so no critical analysis!

Crowded Cafe

I live in Utah County so I try to embrace it. Truly I do. I lived here for the first thirteen years of my life for crying out loud! I was born in the hospital at the bottom of the hill in Provo! The UC has roots to me. But I keep getting reasons and reminders of why I try to stay out of the Orem/Provo area.

Cafe Rio at two-thirty in the afternoon. Not a lunch time rush but still a line. I'm no stranger to the cafeteria style ordering process, but the lady behind me seemed to be. I ordered a tostada (it has to go through the oven) and she ordered a salad. If you're familiar with how these are served, you might know that the salad is done before the tostada. In front of us there are about 12 or 13 people waiting to be rung up or for their burritos to come out of the cheese melter or whatever.

The salad belonging to the lady behind me is done. Keep in mind she is about two steps too close. She is officially in what one might call my "comfort zone." I can almost feel her breath behind me as she says, "Mine is done. Do I go up there and pay for it?" Meaning does she bypass all the other people in line in front of us to get her salad. I don't want to turn around to answer her because I'm afraid we might accidentally kiss.

"No." Is all I can manage to say in an awkward half turn. All the while I'm getting dangerously close to the comfort zone of the guy in front of me. As we get toward the end of the ordering process the normal questions of "What dressing?" "To stay or to go?" "Would you like anything else?" These are fired at me and before I can answer Ms. Salad is answering over the end of their questions. "That one is my salad...I need mine to go...I want the light green dressing...I need a drink with my order..."

I'm waiting for the two guys in front of me to pay. I'm trying to give them their socially acceptable cushion of space before I move toward the cash register. Salad lady behind me is ready to pay. I know she is ready because the 20 dollar bill she is anticipating paying with is crinkling in my ear. I should have guessed she would be an interesting Cafe Rio customer when she asked for extra sauce on her chicken and the guy behind the counter told her it would twenty dollars extra. She didn't give a polite smile and chuckle. She raised her voice to the incredulous level and said, "What?!" She must have processed what he said after she responded and realized it was a joke. I'm guessing this is her normal communication process. One step ahead of where she is actually supposed to be. (I also don't think she realized the Cafe Rio order takers have super human powers of keeping everyone's order straight.) Deep breath salad lady, and breathe...breathe.

Despite all this, my tostada was delicious. And this Cafe Rio had the hot sauce I love. Secret ingredient that makes it the best hot sauce ever: carrots.

Nice Little Saturday

Last week Chris and I decided to take advantage of Snowbird's "Customer Appreciation Day." For a can of food each, you could ride the tram for free. So, why not, we said. Two cans of cream of chicken soup, a can of corn and one extra large jar of peanut butter later, we were ready to elevate.


Our view in the front of the tram before making the climb. Chris is actually afraid of heights, so he was a good sport to go with me.


A beautiful view of Little Cottonwood (or is it Big?) and Salt Lake Valley waaaay in the distance. It was such a beautiful day.



I'm king of the mountain! Chris was scared the whole he was taking this picture that I was going to fall off. I love my paranoid, sexy man.



There was a conversation that happened at the bottom that made me laugh out loud for a good 30 seconds. Disclaimer before I share it. Chris is not some hedonistic sinner guy who does bad things. He's very kind and worthy. But his comment was too priceless.

As we were looking up at the never ending cable that carried the tram up the mountain...

K: Chris, what would you do it the cables snapped while we were up there? (Again, my flair for the dramatic is a little much sometimes.)

C: Hold on to you.

Pause...pause...

C: And repent.

This may not be funny to anyone else, but in the moment and how he said it, an instant classic to me. Then, on the way up as he was trying not to look at the ground or calculate how high we actually were,

C: Maybe I should have repented on the ground, it probably means more.





Thanks for facing your fear so I could enjoy a pretty fall afternoon on top of a mountain!


Then later...

My super beautiful, super talented sister Jenna won an Academic All-State Award. So we went to the 2A State Championship Girls Soccer Game to see her accept her award at half-time. I'm so proud of my little sis! She's twice the teenager I ever was! She's amazing. Love you Jen!

Unexpected Emotions

Every once in a while I find myself in Deseret Industries.  Occasionally I browse the books. (I once bought a hard bound copy of Alex Haley's Roots for a dollar!) Sometimes I find a sweet record.  Like  Carole King's Tapestry album and the Mary Poppins' Soundtrack in the same trip.  That was a good day.  

The other day I was browsing the belts.  The belts are right next the racks of shoes.  Slouched leather and worn soles, lined up on the shelves like soldiers, ready to go one more round.  No belts catch my eye.  I turn around and see a rack full of wedding dresses.  I was surprised.  These were beautiful dresses.  Of course some of them were outdated, maybe worn back in 1985. But they were so exquisite.  I don't know why it caught me off guard.  I've been to enough D.I.'s to know that all kinds of things turn up at thrift stores.  And why not wedding dresses?  

I took a closer look at the dresses.  Intricate beads and sequin details.  Some had long lacy sleeves with hand sewn beads all around the bodice.  Others had layers and layers of silk and satin material bunched up at the bottom of the plastic sleeve that  held the dress on the rack.  These dresses were once picked out with excitement.  The details were once fawned over and shared with girlfriends and grandmothers.  "Oh, look at those sleeves!"  "What a beautiful back!  You are going to look so beautiful tomorrow..."  

So, what happened?  How and why did these dresses end up at a thrift store?  To me, my wedding dress means a wonderful day to me.  The day I committed myself to one person, forever.  I plan on keeping my dress, the same way I plan on keeping my vows.  I want to cherish my dress and maybe someday give it to a daughter or maybe even a granddaughter who will be into vintage clothing.  What happened to make these dresses unwanted?  Was someone unfaithful?  Were hearts broken before they got a chance to be worn?  Were vows broken after they were worn? An excited new bride turned jilted lover?  Or did "till death do us part" come too soon?  Did that dress tucked away in the cedar chest become a painful reminder of a future that never came to pass?  

All these thoughts ran through my head and I became, well emotional, for lack of a better word.  I know I am a little over dramatic sometimes.  My imagination tends to run on the wild side.  Who sits in a thrift store and thinks of tragic scenarios to how items ended up there?  But these dresses were just so...forgotten.  I mean beautiful.  I can't quite put my finger on what struck me enough to bring real moisture to my eyes.   They  just looked so out of place next to the used belts and worn shoes.

There's No Place Like Home

I know my posts have been a little wacky and sporadic lately. I'm in Pittsburgh, then Rhode Island, then New York, then Florida. "What's going on man?" You probably asked yourself. So here is the last 6 months of our lives just to fill you in on why all the state hopping...




April 2008 - We leave for Pittsburgh. Chris stays here until August 30th. He rocked the alarm selling world. He's a door knocking, point figuring, upgrading, walking around all day until there are holes in his shoes and a cute little callous on his "knocking knuckle" all-star. I am such a proud wife at all his hard work. During this time I flew back and forth to Utah a few times for candy machines and lawn mowing. And that's about it.


September - 1st Half - VACATION! Here is where Palmyra, Rhode Island, Cape Cod, Boston, New York, New York came in. We had a blast. Seafood, friends, the beach, church history, and most importantly time together after a crazy schedule.


September - 2nd Half - Work again for Chris. He opted to go to the extended program in Orlando. He sold alarms again for 2 weeks. Still rocked it, just with a little less intensity (not Chris, the atmosphere). I was already ready to come home before we got here. Chris is still trying to convince me that Florida is just awesome. Personally, I could take it or leave it. I think the timing was off for me. How many times can I pack and unpack a car?!?


October 1 - HOME AGAIN HOME AGAIN JIGGITY JIG! We drove from Florida to Utah. I should mention we stopped to see family in Tennessee. (Such a beautiful state! Thanks again Mitchells, great to see you - we love you!) And of course made a stop in Omaha to see my sister and her cute family. Thanks for the comfy bed, dinner and hang out time Goates Fam!


Then we left Omaha in the morning and headed west.


We have traveled a lot this past little while. I have loved seeing the different parts of the country. It was a fun adventure with Chris. But the closer we got to Utah, the more the emotions welled in me. I'm not going to lie, I got a little misty knowing we were coming home. Home to my beautiful mountain landscape. Home to ongoing road construction. Annoying, but a little reminder that people like to live here, so the state continues to grow. Home just in time for the throngs of faithful Latter-day Saint members that flock to the Utah part of Zion for General Conference. Home to warm hugs from family I missed so much. Home to the only place that I know of that has Rumbi Grill. (I almost said Cafe Rio, but I hear they are in Vegas now.) Home to where we have stuff like real dishes and I don't have to eat on plastic plates or sleep in strange beds anymore. My bed, my mountains, my family, my Utah. I missed most of the hot days of a Utah summer, but we got home just in time for this:





This has been one of my more cheesiest posts. And all of you who are without cheese, cast the first gouda, okay? But being away has made me realize how much I love this place. I will continue to travel - there's too much to see out there. But I will always, always, always love coming home.

Currently We Are Living in Florida

The following clip is almost verbatim to the conversation Chris and I had about deciding to live here for a few weeks...






Quite eerie actually.

This Post Is Meant To Be Sung

in a broadway musical type styling. So, as you read it, actually try to sing it instead. It will be a lot more interesting.


Kara: So tell me about this lottery dear friend, dear friend.


Erin: What? You haven't heard about the lottery...the lottery!


Kara: No, please explain...


Erin: You go at 5:30 and put your name in a bowl, or a hat or something like that. (Music begins to build)


Erin: Then you wait until six and then they will pick....a winner! Or maybe 12!


Kara: Go on, you have my attention... (music interlude for like 8 beats while Erin and Kara dance around in an excited circle)


Erin: If you name is drawn...


Kara: If it's drawn? Go on!


Erin: You will be front row!


Kara: Front row? ....No!


Erin: Yes, FRONT ROW! (Loud drums, this is Erin's big voice moment...)


Kara: Front row to Wicked? Do I dare to dream? (Fluttery music now, as Kara glides around dreaming she was at Wicked on the front row, let's call this her tender dance solo.)


Erin: Yes friend, dream, for it happened to me...but it gets better.


Kara: I'm listening, please tell me everything.


Erin: Bring your cash, your id and your good luck pin, for if you're picked you only need 25 bucks to get in!


(Look of shock, then glee, then off to the show to try and get 25 dollar front row Wicked tickets)