Working Against Me

We all know that my language could use a good scrubbing. There are a few 3, 4, and 5 letter words that should be expunged from my vocabulary.

When I say this, I feel like I am talking about starting to smoke or something, but I started swearing about the age of 17. All the cool kids were doing it... at least all of the cool debate nerds that I hung out with. (Is there such a thing?) It made me feel grown up.

As I've gotten older, though, I find that the swearing is not about being cool so much as it is about being accurate. I know, it shows a lack of intelligence on my part, but I've never come across any words that make my point like swear words.

But I'm going to have to.

I tell you, it's like drinking. For a long time, I tried to hide it from my children, but I think that I must be slipping. Trust Doug to point that out to me. The other night as he was praying, he said, "and please bless that NO ONE in our family will say any more bad words."

No one means me.

So, I've been trying.

But life is working against me.

Take today, for example. I went for a ride with Jedi Joy. We had a great time. We went 26.5 miles and had 1/2 mile to go. We're riding along, when some _____ _____ on his cell phone goes to cross the road right in front of us. We both pull our brakes and he finally sees us. The moron freaks out and stops in the middle of the road-- still on his phone-- only feet away from us. He is just stopped there for a second right in front of us and we can't figure out whether to go in front of him or behind. He waves us through, then thinks better of his position (being stopped in the middle of a busy road and all) and steps on the gas anyway, nearly mowing us over again.

Who wouldn't call the guy a dumb ass?

Later on in the day, as I am cutting up canteloupe with my awesome new knife, I slice my finger. This knife is so sharp and the cut is so clean that it doesn't hurt at all, but by the way blood started spurting out, I knew I was in trouble.

Out slips the s-word-- right in front of Emalee. She just looked at me sweetly as she was getting me a band-aid and cleaning up the blood on the counter and says, "Don't worry, Mom. I probably would have sworn too."

Ouch.

She did say something that made me laugh. She said that she heard her grandpa (my dad) say that word when they had all of the grandkids at the cabin last week. She said they were all fighting a little and my dad told them they were being little "s----s."

Like father, like daughter, I suppose.

Viva Le Tour!

The Tour de France has been over for 2 days now and I am in withdrawal.

Lance didn't win-- exactly. He did get third though-- not too shabby for a 38 year old who's been out of the sport for 4 years. (Seriously-- they showed pictures of him watching the Tour from home last year drinking beer with a little pot belly.) Way to go, Lance.

Watching the world's best cyclists is inspiring. And then discouraging. Why? Because you'd think that riding a bike is riding a bike. When you watch basketball or football or gymnastics, you see the athletes do seemingly inhuman actions and realize that they are special people born with certain talents and characteristics. But, riding a bike seems like something that everyone should be able to do, right?

Wrong. The riders in the Tour de France ride 100 plus miles everyday for 23 days, with 2 rest days in between. They cover over 3000 miles. They climb thousands and thousands of feet. They ride up hills that are 8-12% grade (think Suncrest) at 18 miles per hour. That's a pretty dang good average for me on a flat road, let alone on an incline!

I can't imagine the suffering these guys can handle to put themselves through that kind of ordeal. I rode up to the windmills by the point of the mountain the other day without stopping on the steep part and was pretty dang proud of myself-- even though I was sucking wind and seeing stars for 2 minutes when I got to the top-- and that was only a quarter mile climb!

My point is that, just like running, even though riding a bike is something that nearly everyone can do, there are definitely some people who do it on a level that is incomprehensibly better than most of us.

Maybe that's why I just spent the better part of a month watching them do it. Some people find God in music, art or nature. I see Him in the beauty of watching His most wonderful creations in an impossibly long, difficult, and supremely graceful feat of endurance.

How long until next July?

Why Not to Ride Your Bike in 100 Degree Weather

I had every intention of getting up today at 6:30 and going for a ride. I really did. I even made plans with Jedi Joy to meet at 7:00. However, when 6:30 came around and the alarm sounded, Layne rolled over and put his arm around me and wouldn't let me up.

That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

I dragged my butt out of bed somewhere closer to 8:30 and decided that I'd better do the yardwork before I did anything else. (It is Thursday, after all. Me and my schedule.) The kids were moderately helpful and we had the mowing, weeding, edging and blowing done by 10:45. (Ok. The edging wasn't all the way done, but it's not my fault. The battery went dead.)

I really wanted to put in some miles today, and, as I am still trying to get ready for the 111 mile around-Utah-Lake ride (ULCER) in two weeks, I figured riding in the sun might be good practice.

So off I went.

I didn't have much time, so I decided to make the most of it and ride up to Alpine and back as fast as I could.

Probably not a good idea in 94 degree weather. By the top of golf course road, I was seriously sweating and my heart was pounding. I noticed that, unlike when I ride in the morning, there were very few other cyclists on the road.

All smarter than me.

I got to Alpine in good time and turned around to find a nasty surprise. Apparently, I had a tailwind the whole way up that I hadn't noticed. Going the other direction, the tailwind turned into a hot, nasty, dry-out-your-lungs kind of headwind.

The real bummer about that is that the whole reason I like climbing into Alpine is that it means I get to descend fast on the way down. Not so with a head wind. That makes the downhill at least as hard as the uphill.

I knew it was getting hot, but didn't realize just HOW hot until I stopped at the four corners in Highland. Standing still there in the hot sun waiting for the light to change, I could feel a river of sweat running down my back. I grabbed my waterbottle and squirted a bunch of it down my neck-- much to the delight of a crew of Mexicans in a nearby car. You're welcome, boys.

I started feeling a little sick about a mile or two from home. I was ever so grateful to turn down the street to my house. I parked my bike and stumbled into the house, where my kids told me I looked like a tomato face. All I could do was lay spread eagle on the floor under the ceiling fan.

When I stopped seeing stars, I climbed into a cold shower-- which felt good for a minute, but did little good, as I was still sweating when I got out. My face stayed red for 3 hours and my head still hasn't stopped throbbing.

Today's ride leads me to two conclusions-- first, no more 11:00 killer rides to Alpine. And, second, I am in REAL trouble for the ULCER in two weeks. If 12 miles in 94 degree weather almost killed me, I think that I'm screwed for 111 miles in the 100 degrees we'll probably have then.

I don't think that I'm ever going to accomplish that goal...

Did You Ever Have That Dream?

Do you ever feel like you're living in a dream?

Not the really good kind where you wear a size 4 swimsuit and you live in a mansion.

I mean the kind of dream where you're back in high school and you can't remember your locker combination or if it's "A" day or "B" day.

Oh. And you forgot to wear pants.

I've been having that feeling for the last few days. The only reason I can figure out is that with the end of PTA and Tour de Donut, I have nothing to do.

I haven't had that luxury for a very long time. For well over a year, every time I've sat down, I've thought to myself, is it worth sitting down when I have ___________ and ____________ and ______________ that need to be done? That's actually the reason I ended up with a laptop computer-- so that I could sit in the family room with Layne and work on whatever project needed doing.

Now, I look at my calendar during the day and actually see white space and, quite surprisingly, I don't know what to do with it! I get in such a quagmire of indecision (should I read a book, clean something, call someone, work in the yard?) that I don't really do anything.

I go to bed wondering what the heck I did with my day?

I'm glad there's only one more month of summer vacation. I'm ready for something new to do. The danger is that I'll get so bored with all of this nothing, that I'll unlearn my "no!" word and start saying yes-- just to have something to do!

I'll never learn.

State of Grace

I've been watching my kids in varying stages of learning to swim this week. Like I mentioned before, they've had a really good teacher and they made much more progress in a week than I expected.

Their teacher is an interesting woman. Short hair, deep voice, short, muscular build-- not what you'd call feminine or svelt. But, put her in the water and it's a different story.

She turns into a mermaid. It is beautiful to watch her swim. She is so fluid and graceful-- it's more like a dance than a sport.

Making that observation this week gives me the answer to a question I've asked all my life. Why can't I swim?

Because I am not graceful. And, apparently, grace is what keeps the water from going up your nose and making you cough. Grace is what makes your kicks actually propel your body and not just splash everyone around you. And grace is what makes a backstroke look like an efficient windmill and not a drowning rat.

Dictionary.com defines grace as "elegance or beauty of form, manner, motion or action." I don't know what the opposite of graceful is, but me running, swimming, walking or even breathing is probably posted right by that word.

I remember meeting my kindergarten teacher right before school started-- you know, in the old days where they didn't test your alphabet and reading skills, but instead tested your colors and if you could walk on a very short balance beam? I couldn't do it and I remember my mom and my teacher trying not to laugh at my efforts.

Oh, the scars. :-)

It's never been a big deal-- I've learned to entertain others with my klutziness.

But today, watching that dolphin-lady dance in the water, I realized that she is one of the lucky residents of the state of grace.

And that's a place I just can't seem to find on my map.

Why I Want Lance Armstrong to Win the Tour de France

I can't say that I am a huge Lance Armstrong fan.

I admire what he's done for cancer research.

I am in awe of his 7 Tour de France wins.

After reading his autobiographies and also a couple of books written about him, as well as a couple by some of his team mates, I think he's a megalomaniac and he'd be hard to be around.

He also makes bad choices in women. Really, the Olsen twins? Come on.

But, even though I am a Garmin-Chipotle fan and Lance rides for Astana, I still want him to win.

Why?

Because he's old.

He's 38, which is old for a professional cyclist. He's been out of professional cycling since 2005.

It doesn't matter. Right now, he's sitting in 3rd place-- only 8 seconds behind the leader.

I'm turning 35 at the end of the summer. It's one of those monumental birthdays divisible by 5, and I'm starting to realize that I am older than most of my close friends now.

Every once in a while, I am noticing that a few of my hairs are a strange color of blonde. You know, the shade that looks like gray?

Pretty soon, I might have to buy some polyester pants.

Except for Lance. He's older than me. If he can come back and kick the trash of 180 of the world's best (and youngest) athletes in the world, there might be hope for me.

Maybe I can work a little harder and stay out in front of Calli up the golf course hill.

Maybe I actually can finish the 111 miles around Utah Lake in 3 weeks.

And, maybe if I train really hard, I can take advantage of the fact that I am on the 35 side of the 35-54 year old category B in the Utah Tour de Donut next year.

I'm bringing home the trophy, baby.

Just like Lance.

How to Get Your Kids To Do What You Want

I've sufficiently discussed in this forum how I can't swim. It's true. I tell myself it's because I'm so muscled up that I just sink.

I'm determined that my kids won't be the water-weinie that I am.

For this purpose, I have enrolled them in private swimming lessons.

We've done the rec center thing-- talk about scary. Hundreds of kids in the pool being "taught" by horny 16 year old lifeguards flirting with each other while my kid is drowning.

No thanks.

But what to do? I've tried to teach them what little I know about swimming, but I couldn't get them to get their faces in the water.

Enter Sheila Morrison.

She has the coolest indoor pool I've ever seen. She's expensive and no-nonsense, and after 2 days, my kids are swimming. Better than me.

She tells them to put their faces in the water, they do it. She tells them to blow bubbles out their noses, they do it. She tells them to breathe from the side, they do it.

Like I didn't tell them all of those things before. I even tried to help Michael when we were swimming in Vegas. He wouldn't put his face under water so I gave him a little assistance. :-) He wouldn't talk to me for an hour.

Here's Doug, jumping into the deep end of the pool without even plugging his nose. When he was in the pool with me, he made me hold his hand when he went down the ladder so he didn't get his eyes wet.

What I'm thinking is that my kids do better when I pay someone to tell them to do it. Piano, soccer, swimming-- they all seem to do better when it's not me telling them.

Perhaps I should get a paid-parent. Like Alice on the Brady Bunch-- remember her?

"Alice, the kids' rooms are a mess. Please tell them to clean them." Done.

"Alice, the kids need to do their homework." Done.

"Alice, the kids are burping at the table again. Tell them to stop." Done.

So, what I want to know is, if I paid myself, would they listen to me?

Tour de Donut

It's finished.

I've been dreading July 11th for a year now-- ever since July 12th of last year. Why, you ask?

Tour de Donut.

A couple of years ago when Layne was president of the Rotary club, we were looking for a better way to raise money for service projects than a fireworks stand. We read a funny story in Bicycling magazine about a race back east called the Tour de Donut-- and we decided that was something we could try.

Just like that, we gave birth to Hell-Day (for us) and a really fun time for a lot of other people.

The first year went so well, that somehow Layne and I suddenly found ourselves major event organizers.

Here I am starting the race.

We've spent the last month or so designing and ordering tshirts, designing, programming, and updating a website, planning a course, talking to the police, ordering donuts, creating registration databases, finding and organizing volunteers, and a host of other tasks. It takes an incredible amount of work to organize a bike race for 300 people!

The gist of the thing is this. The course is 7 miles. You ride it once, then eat as many donuts as you can choke down. (You get 3 minutes off your race time for every donut you eat.) Ride the loop again, eat more donuts, then ride one more loop for a total of 21 miles.

The winner ate 28 donuts and ended up with -13 minutes. There were over 1300 donuts consumed-- 6 of them by Doug. Some people squished the donuts up and poured water over them to make them slide down easier. It was disgusting.
At least no one puked this year-- at least not where I could see them. We definitely got an interesting mix of people-- serious racers, families, and--well-- whatever this guy is.

Amazingly, it went really well. There are always things that can improve, but it was smoother than last year and everyone seemed to have a good time. We raised $7400 for some really good causes (Kona BikeTown as well as local rotary projects).

Here's the thing though-- when everyone assumes that Layne and I are going to do it next year, I'm going to practice that word I learned a couple of months ago. You know, the one that starts with "N" and ends with "O".

Depending on my mood, I might even add a "HELL" to the first of it. I'd be happy to help-- get the shirts or something, but I'm not being in charge again. It's someone else's turn to be in charge of stuff.

It really screwed up my riding schedule.

You know we can't have that.

Lavender and Pond Scum

Today my friend Helene invited my kids and me to go out to Mona to the Young Family Living Farm. I've seen this place as we've driven to St. George before-- fields and fields of purple. Today, we decided to check it out.

The whole place smells like lavender-- which, to tell you the truth, is not my favorite scent. They sold lavender ice cream and lavender lemonade. I didn't try either.

Sorry about all of the over-exposed pictures-- I forgot my filter and it was a BRIGHT day. You'll notice 6 kids-- 3 are mine, 2 are Helene's and one (Kyle) we had to import so that Mike could have a buddy.

I've got to get me one of these stocks. What a great time-out place that would be!

They have a medieval village there with some really cool toys. This is a giant swing made of a huge barrel.

This is a human-powered merry-go round. As all of the kids wanted to ride, I guess it was a "mom-powered" ride.

When we got tired, Mike decided to give it a try.

They have two activities that you can pay for down there-- a rock climbing wall and paddleboats. I tried my darndest to get my kids to choose the rock wall, but to no avail. Of course you had to have someone over 12 in the boat, so against my better judgement, I found myself in a paddle boat with a wet booty. Here's my self-portrait in the boat.

My friend Helene was not as reluctant as me and talked me into it. Unfortunately for her, the bad luck / klutzy karma that usually follows me around somehow stuck to her today. When she brought the boat in and went to jump onto the deck, she hadn't tied up the boat and it slipped right out from under her. I was watching and it was like slow motion-- I knew what was about to happen, yet was powerless to stop it.

Her feet stayed on the boat, her hands were on the deck, and those two things were quickly traveling away from each other. Suddenly, Helene found herself in scummy pond water-- which DID NOT smell like lavender.

Here's the thing about my friend Helene-- and the biggest sign that she is several thousand steps ahead of me in the journey to heaven. Had that been me, all 6 kids would have come away from the day with a new vocabulary full of 4 letter words-- especially considering the fact that she had her camera in a bag around her waist. Helene just laughed. No bad words. No bad attitude. Just soggy clothes.

If you're wondering, I didn't get a picture of her in the water-- I wanted to, but instead helped her out. I did get this of her when she was safely removed from the scum.

I'm really sorry that Helene got dumped in the water-- but I do have to laugh that it happened to someone other than me this time. Usually I have to write these posts about something dumb that I've done...

Lost My Marbles, Quite Literally

When I woke up this morning, I had every intention of putting in 12 miles or so on my bike. I jumped up and headed into the bathroom-- and tipped right into the wall. Who tilted the room?

I made it to The Throne and the world stopped spinning a little, until I turned my head quickly and woosh! Same thing. About fell right off the toilet.

Needless to say, I did not get on my bike, but instead sat down in my Laz-y-Boy and waited to feel better.

Except that I didn't.

By lunch time, I knew something wasn't right. Lucky for me, I'm married to a balance doctor.

I drove myself carefully to Layne's office and told the good doc about my symptoms. He told me to get on the exam table and he was going to lay me down quickly and I was supposed to keep my eyes open.

He laid me down with my head off the table and suddenly, I had one of the most horrible feelings I've ever experienced. I felt like I was tumbling inside, outside, and upside down, and I wanted to hurl. My inclination was to close my eyes and make it stop, but Layne told me not to do that-- it would make it worse.

He said I had BPPV.

No, it's not some kind of STD. Here's the technical definition:

Within the labyrinth of the inner ear lie collections of calcium crystals known as otoconia. In patients with BPPV, the otoconia are dislodged from their usual position within the utricle and they migrate over time into one of the semicircular canals (the posterior canal is most commonly affected due to its anatomical position). When the head is reoriented relative to gravity, the gravity-dependent movement of the heavier otoconial debris (colloquially "ear rocks") within the affected semicircular canal causes abnormal (pathological) fluid endolymph displacement and a resultant sensation of vertigo. This more common condition is known as canalithiasis.

Essentially, my marbles came loose.

It was inevitable.

Like I said, lucky for me, I'm married to the guy who fixes loose marbles. In more ways than one.

We'll Be Popular

I've tried for almost 11 years to figure out how to put a jacuzzi tub into my master bathroom. I've finally decided that, barring a serious addition to the house, it's not going to happen.

Apparently, someone who lived in the house before me had figured that out too, and had a hot tub out on the covered patio. Unfortunately, they didn't leave the tub when they moved-- they just left a slight ring on the cement. Luckily for us, they also left it already hard wired.

Layne's never been too interested in having a hot tub-- treated water always made his legs itchy. In the last little while, though, that hasn't been a problem for him and after he spent some time in a hot tub on our Vegas trip, he started liking the idea of a spa as well.

He went through his whole stalking process. He researched them on the internet. We visited a showroom. He made a decision and within a week, we were the proud owners of a BullFrog.

Here's the paragraph in the brochure that convinced me:

Need More Friends- Just Add Water
Become the most popular house on the street by simply owning a Bullfrog Spa. Your house will become a favorite destination for your friends. It will be the place where your children and their friends want to hang out. With JetPaks, you can have a massage experience that is perfect for everyone. You don’t worry about planning something to do because your spa is a great place to socialize and is perfect for entertaining.

You mean that something might actually rival the Wii for my kids' attention?

We had our Cul de Sac of Fire on the day it came, before it was wired and filled. The kids had a great time playing in it.



On Saturday, our friend Adam came and wired it for us. I was as bad as the kids, standing around waiting for it to get filled. Finally, it was ready.

You should see it at night. It has colored LED lights and the water glows. The stereo is being installed sometime this week-- our patio is going to rock!

I don't know about the popular part-- but I know that we've pretty much added another room onto our house. We've spent more time on the porch in the last week than we have in the last 5 years.

Who needs to be a cheerleader to be popular? Just buy a hot tub.

Cul de Sac of Fire

For the last 5 years or so, my family has all gotten together on the 4th of July for our white trash version of the Stadium of Fire. We barbeque some kind of meat, fill the cooler with ice and soda, cut up a watermelon and (new this year) make home-made ice cream. When we're really feeling W.T., we get out the sprinklers and let the kids get soaked.



This year, my sister Nicole and her family were going to New York for a family vacation early this morning, so we had to really white trash it and do our celebration a day early.


Doug has been excited for the fireworks for weeks. He saved the Macey's firework coupons that came at the end of June. He's bugged Layne every day about going to buy their fireworks. Layne took the boys on Thursday to dinner and to buy their stash. When Doug got home and said his prayers, he gave thanks for his fireworks and asked Heavenly Father for a great 3rd of July party.


I think it went well. Doug asked every 5 minutes if it was time to light fireworks-- he was so happy when it got dark!


When it came right down to it, we probably could have just bought a box of neon light sticks and some sparklers. My brother-in-law Brady brought all of his DJ stuff and we entertained the whole neighborhood with a little Lady Gaga, Pink, and other classics. (You're welcome.) The kids danced around with the light sticks and sparklers. (Okay, who am I kidding? Nicole and I danced a little ourselves. Hope there's no video of that.)


I also took some really fun light pictures-- have I mentioned that I love my Nikon?

This is my nephew twirling a light-stick necklace.

Look, but don't touch, Hyrum!

This is Emalee with a really long shutter speed.
More light stick fun

The Cul de Sac of Fire

Light Sticks and Fireworks

Mike and a Sparkler

Sparklers and a long shutter speed

Handy Kim

When we moved into this house nearly 11 years ago, on the porch was an old wooden bench. For 11 years I've meant to refinish that bench.


I finally did it this week.

Before:

After:

I thought about painting cream over it and roughing through the black-- then I decided (with the help of my friend Jamie) that I like the black.

You'll notice my new Mouse sander in the first picture. I bought my very own power tool. The few other power tools were for something Layne was doing.

Now I'm walking around finding all kinds of things I can sand and paint.

Who knew I could be a handy-woman?

The Many Sides of Doug and Other Stuff

Doug is one of those kids who has had...shall we call it personality?... from the time he was born. He's smart and he's funny and he's just a little bit unpredictable.

He's also a great model for my fun camera. Here's a few of the shots I've taken of him in the last few days.

Even when he's just pretending to be mad, you can still see his "stork bite!"

Isn't he handsome?

This one was at the Thanksgiving Point Children's Garden today. We went with my friend Jamie and her two cute kids. Also a good place for playing with my camera-- love that new low aperture lens!

This from the boy who hates getting his face wet in the shower...

Try getting 7 kids to spread out on a hill and look at you at the same time. Not an easy trick, my friends.

Jamie and Riley

Riley

Garrett

Emalee

Michael

Sorry about the picture-heavy post. The little creativity I've had the last few days has come out in a camera, not in words. I think that all of my good ideas melted in the sun. . .