The Long Way Home

After 3 fantastic days in Yellowstone Park, we had to go home. As we had the whole day to get home, we decided to meander our way through the park and to Jackson, then home. We left at 9:30 a.m. We stopped here:

And here: (My mom, me and Layne-- the kids were not interested in seeing another mountain.)

We ate lunch in the middle of Coulter Bay on the deserted dock. Doug wanted to know if sharks live in lakes. I told him yes, just so he wouldn't be tempted to jump in.
What a beautiful place for a family picture!
We saw some moose. (And some moose droppings. No, Doug, those are NOT Whoppers on the ground there.)
This is one of my favorite pictures. Wyoming does have some pretty spots. (There's just a lot of empty space in between them.)

My boys, my dad, and I took a little hike to see some moose. Aren't they handsome?
Fun stuff with Dad's new camera at Jenny Lake in Grand Teton National Park.
This view was so incredible. I've got a new happy place...
This is my new favorite picture of my kids.
I could post a million more (you'll thank me for not, I'm sure), but it's getting late, and I digress.

We didn't get to Jackson until about 2:30 pm. I had the misconception that Jackson was just a couple of hours from home. WRONG! We drove. And drove. And drove.

At one point, we hit a sign that said "Ogden 61" and I thought we were getting closer. I think that the sign meant to say "Ogden 161", because we drove for an hour and a half before we hit another sign that said "Ogden 32". What the hell?

My mother didn't appreciate when I said that over the radio. Lucky she wasn't actually in the car to hear the rest. Lest you think I'm setting a bad example for my children, they were in a trance, wearing infa-red headphones and watching a movie. (One of five they saw on the way home.)

8 hours, 5 movies, 1241 round trip miles later, we finally got home. It was a gorgeous ride, but I think it's the last time we take the long way home...

Yellowstone Day 3

What a gorgeous day to be in Yellowstone! It started out a bitter 24 degrees and we got into the park pre-sunrise. (Nicole said we'd see more animals that way. I thought she was full of it. She wasn't.)

First off, we saw a grizzly bear. It was far away and, if you can believe it, I was the first one to see it! I thought I was pretty cool, until the next bear just about jumped in front of our car. Here's the pic I snapped before we high-tailed it out of there: Here's the family at Mammoth Falls:

Here's my beautiful daughter-- who is starting to act like a teenager about 4 years too early. Here's Dougie. Think this shirt fits the boy or what? Here are my boys the once they weren't running, yelling or fighting. And finally, the moment you've all been waiting for, YES, I did actually get on my bike today! After riding West Yellowstone to Old Faithful last year (in the snow), I thought it would be easier to go the other way around and drive to Old Faithful, then ride back to W.Y. I debated about whether or not this was cheating, but I figured that since I rode up Firehole Hill last year, I earned the right to ride down.

What I didn't realize is that, except for the lack of Firehole Hill, the way back is as hard as the way there. Granted, there is a little more downhill (although less than you might think), but there is also a HEADWIND always for the last 15 miles! (Not to mention the stiff crosswind for the first 15!) The weather was perfect-- 60 degrees and sunny. Unfortunately, Layne got new gears on his bike and totally kicked my arse. Seriously, we're going up a hill about a 4%-5% grade and he's going 24 mph!!! He had to keep waiting for me and finally rode back and gave me a package of caffeinated Sport Beans. Love those things. Who needs Red Bull?
Could you find a more beautiful place to ride? We rode a little over 31 miles, averaged almost 19 mph, even with the wind. I came home starving and exhausted, (I know it's whimpy, but it was a hard 31 miles!) I ate a giant helping of lasagne and now I'm ready to call it a night. Too bad we have to come home tomorrow!

Here's a couple of other pics of cool stuff we saw today:



What a beautiful place!

Still wish you were here...

Lest you think I am a dork for posting while I'm on vacation, let me set your mind at ease. I am, no doubt about it. There is, however, NOTHING to do in West Yellowstone after 7 pm. I even got in the pool with the kids, if you can imagine. (No pics of that. You're welcome.) Here's me and my boys at the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone. Can't describe how beautiful this view is-- won't try.



Here's our requisite trip to Old Faithful. I think they should rename it Old Almost Faithful, Give or Take 20 Minutes or So. It was 20 minutes late in going off. It seemed to make an attempt or two before, but couldn't quite get there. I thought maybe the Rangers should throw in some of that "V" medicine. Might help.







Here are the kids at the Old Faithful sign. Yes, we are traveling in a group of 12 kids and 8 adults. Are we from Utah? How could you tell? .



















Here's my handsome Mr. Michael. He's walking around the park with his cousins with a strut. He's growing up too fast! And he needs a haircut...

It is so beautiful here! Just watch where you step...

And no, I didn't get to ride my bike today. Maybe tomorrow...

Wish You Were Here?

We left at 6:00 am. After 5 hours, two stops, a million "are we there yets?" and 3 movies (thank heaven we bought the minivan with the DVD player!), we arrived in West Yellowstone. Along with half of Utah, all out of school for UEA. It's okay. Here's what we saw today:

In another life, I'd want to be a buffalo. The bigger the better and I'd have awesome hair.

And we saw this:

It took us days to see a coyote last time and we just about hit one on our first day in the park this time!

And this was fantastic:

This is Gibbon Falls. Not, as I thought, named after a small ape, but after some guy named Gibbon. (Maybe he was named after the small ape. )

Doug took this one:

It's better than the one he took the other day while I was cleaning in my cut off sweats, tied-up sweatshirt and doo-rag on my head. That was a shocker to upload. Hit Delete Quick!!!

Tomorrow I may make my second pilgrimage on my bike from West Yellowstone to Old Faithful. 60 miles round trip and about 50,000 feet of climbing. I don't think buffalo were made for climbing...

Time for Manners

My four year old son Doug has started doing a cute thing-- he opens my car door for me every time we get in the car. He's not usually such a gentleman-- he has all the usual boy obsessions with burping, farting, and boogers (yuck!). However, for some reason, he's decided that he should open my door.

The funny thing is, as I pointed out to a friend of mine today, I don't know where he learned it from. It's not something he learned from his dad, but it's not his dad's fault. It's mine.

My dad always opens my mom's door. He taught me when I started dating to stand at the car door or to wait inside the car until the boy did his duty. Like the good gentleman he is (very rarely burping, farting or laughing at boogers in front of me), Layne always used to open my door.

I think it changed when we had two kids. I felt bad for him, having to walk around to let me out, then back to his side to get a kid. Eventually, I just started jumping out of the car.

I want my boys to be good gentlemen. I expect them to open doors for women. But the thing is, are the girls going to let them? Have we all become so independent and practical minded that we can't wait a few seconds to be treated well?

Of course we can open the doors by ourselves-- that's never been the issue. What is the issue is whether or not we can make the time for the courtesy that used to be the standard.

Layne once told me that he and his friends had a joke about letting their dates get in the car, then taking a minute to "look at the moon" before they got in the car themselves. Before you think how romantic they all were, you have to know that was boy-speak for ripping one outside before getting in the vehicle with the girl they were trying to impress. I'm impressed they cared enough to keep it outside.

Anyway, my rambling point is that I'm going to try harder to be a good example for my boys. I want them to marry someone who will let them open their doors-- guess I should teach them when they're young, huh?

My Vote for President

I'm in a quandry about this year's election--
The problem is the lack of selection.
Except for the race and age and name,
I think the two candidates are mostly the same.

I think they're both greedy and rude and ambitious,
Their motives for running are suspect and suspicious.
Neither seems like someone I'd want to follow,
Their promises all ring a little too hollow.

I'd like a leader who leads by example,
Whose morals and values are solid and ample.
Who doesn't switch sides just to come out on top
Who stands by his record and won't ever stop.

My choices this year are looking, well, bleak.
McCain and Obama are both seeming weak.
Given the choice, I think I'll write in
My husband for President-- think he can win?

In Love with Laundry

When I was a missionary in Brazil, we had to wash our laundry by hand. The Brazilians were meticulous about it. Their whites were sparkling because they would soak them in Borax all night, then scrub them clean on a special laundry stone sink.



We Americans never really got the hang of it. We didn't want to spend our whole preparation day scrubbing our hands raw. One of my companions developed the "swish and rinse" method of laundry. This meant pretty much getting the clothes wet, then hanging them out to dry. (Which they never really did, as it rained nearly every day.)



No wonder everything in my suitcase smelled like wet dog when I got home. I remember opening it up with my family all around, waiting for me to bring out their gifts. As soon as I unzipped the suitcase, they all drew back in horror at the smell. Not me. I didn't notice it at all. I've always wondered what happened to all of the clothes I brought home that my mom discreetly gathered up and said she was going to wash?



Anyway, I hated doing laundry by hand and I promised myself that I would never take a washer and dryer for granted again. However, 15 years and 3 kids later, I used to find myself complaining every once in a while about the never-ending task of laundry which chained me to my house all day, every Monday.



No more. Not only am I working on my gratitude issues, but I am also in love with my new (relatively) washer and dryer. I can do nearly a week's worth of laundry by 1:00 in the afternoon. My dryer is actually done before the washer. I actually like doing laundry now!



If only I could find a folding machine....

Dang I'm lazy.

My Plan For Saving Money

So, is anybody else freaked out about the 4,000 point drop in the stock market? When I hear the media geeks say things like "crash" and "recession", I start to think of my little old great grandma who tried to put paper plates in the dishwasher because she couldn't bear to throw anything away.



In the spirit of waste not, want not, here's my plan to save money:



1. I refuse to turn on the furnace yet. Nevermind that I could see my breath while laying in bed this morning. Buck up kids and put on another sweatshirt.



2. I'm only going to put on make-up every other day. This saves me time and money. Sorry to all of you who have to see me on the off day.



3. I'm not going to Walmart anymore. I spend an average of $100 every trip. I spend $30 or so when I go to Albertsons, but I go twice as much. The way I figure, if I quit going to Wally's, I'll come out $40 ahead every week.



4. I cleaned out the car. I figure I was driving around with at least 500 pounds of old french fries, laffy taffy wrappers, broken Happy Meal Toys, deposit receipts, and other trash. Not to mention my husband's golf clubs-- how'd they get in my car anyway? That should give me like 20 miles more a gallon.



5. Kids can buy school lunch. Now I know, you'd think this would be the more expensive option. However, with my spoiled eaters, when you add up the gogurt, string cheese, Capri Sun, apple, crackers and lunch meat, I'm spending $2.50 or so per lunch. That's $10 a week!

6. This is my favorite one. I saw this new bike trainer where you hook up a power station to the trainer and actually store energy as you exercise! In 3 hours, you can store enough energy to charge 50 cell phones. Who needs a generator? I gotta get me one of these babies!

I Hate People

I know, I know. It's a blunt statement. But if you'd just spent 3 1/2 hours at the school baking cookies and pretzels and disgusting churros for way too many dirty-handed little kids and their parents, you'd hate people too.

Every time I do something at the school where I come in contact with most of the families who attend there, I am amazed at the number of clueless, rude, or just plain ignorant people who live here.

There are the kids who lie and tell you they haven't already had 5 of whatever you're giving out. There are the kids-- and parents-- who stand there with their hands out even though you are obviously not ready to give them anything yet. There are the ones who complain about what you are doing, who never do anything themselves. Best yet, there are the ones who broadcast how they hate the PTA, but get upset if their kids are left out of anything.

I almost smacked one of them today.

I always wondered what happened to all of the past PTA presidents-- why you never see them around anymore after their sentence is up. Now I know. They hate people too.

The Magic Number Seven

(Disclaimer: this has nothing to do with the hilarious but kind of raunchy episode of Friends. Admit it, Friends lovers-- you know which one I'm talking about.)

What I am talking about is what it is like to have seven kids for a day. And a night. And another day.

Three of them are my own. They are 4, 6, and 8-- nice, round numbers. No one is in diapers. Everyone feeds themselves. Everyone brushes their own teeth. I don't even have a package of wet wipes in the house anymore. I was more than happy to tear out the cupboards with child locks. Apparently we are grown up around here.

Our friends went out of town for a much needed break for a couple of days. Our kids are good friends and I was happy to take them for one of the nights. They all behaved perfectly. Really, everything was as smooth as it could have been. However, the experience was still enlightening.

My grandma had 10 kids. My mom had 5. (Well, 7 if you count the twins that died at birth.) I have 3. Do you see the trend? I guess I always figured I'd have more, but circumstances being what they are, my baby will be 5 in January and I'm starting to think that the time might have passed. Who remembered how much work a 2 year old is? Not me.

There was a strange exponential noise increase in our house last night and this morning with all seven here. It actually left an echo when they all went to bed, although that could just have been my ears ringing. Layne went to work early this morning, and I'm pretty sure that it's because the breakfast table sounded like a hen house.

Kudos to my friends for having very well behaved children. I just told the darling two year old it was time to take a nap and she said "Okay," and started sucking her thumb. Mine never did that. Maybe when you get to child number 4, you have to have a system about things like that.

Anyway, I've decided that my Grandma, my mom, two of my sisters and everyone else with 4 or more kids are better women than me. These two days have been totally fine, but I don't think that I'm cut out to be the long term mother to this many kids. There. I admitted it. I'm not the coolest mom on the block.

So I say, good on ya to everyone with more than 3-- ya'll deserve trophies. And earplugs.

Moral Dilemma

So, my friends, here it is. I've been doing a little freelance writing lately and have actually been getting paid for it. Go figure. Keep this blog a secret because if the people paying me knew it was here, they might stop signing checks and start getting my stuff for free.

Anyway, a piece that I wrote a while ago has been picked up by the people who write the Chicken Soup for the Soul books and they want to pay me to publish it in a new book they are releasing at the first of the year. Here is my dilemma-- I make fun of those books.

Have you read some of the titles? Chicken Soup for the Ocean Lover's Soul. Chicken Soup for the Coffee Lover's Soul. Chicken Soup for the Scrapbooker's Soul. (These are REAL books, people!) Are you kidding me??? There are enough "inspiring" stories about people who like oceans and coffee and scrapbooking to fill three whole books?

The most remarkable one to me is the one about the cat lover's soul. That's just ridiculous. I hate cats.

I have suggestions for new Chicken Soup books. How about Chicken Soup for the Dinosaur Lover's Soul? Maybe Chicken Soup for the Second Cousin Lover's Soul? Wait. I think that's illegal in most states. How about Chicken Soup for the Road Bike Lover's Soul. I might have to buy that one. Best one yet: Chicken Soup for the Chicken Soup Hater's Soul. Best seller there.

My secret confession is that I've been published in one of their books before-- and I feel a little guilty about it. However, no one I know has ever noticed it (or at least said anything to me if they have), so I felt pretty safe. And it paid for part of my Puerto Rico trip.

So, what do I do? Do I take the money and run, or do I stick to my guns and keep making fun of a weird social phenomenon? I wish I would have thought to write this story under a pseudonym.

I'll have to do that from now on. If you are ever reading a Chicken Soup book in your grandmother's bathroom (where I'm convinced all of the Chicken Soup books end up), and you read a great story by Gimberlee K. Barrett, I promise it's not me.

The Simple Solution

I'm sitting here watching the news, and of course, it is all about the crazy economy. Some guy is talking about how much fear and anxiety is pressing on our society. He says that people should seek for correct information and try to make calm, rational decisions.

That's all well and good, but I think there is a much simpler way to destress and fix the economy at the same time-- it's all about the bike.

We should all get another economic "stimulus" check. With it, everyone should go buy a nice bike-- American made, of course. This stimulates the economy and gives people a great way to destress. This also cuts down on gas used-- which somehow solves the energy crisis at the same time. We could all buy more spandex and laugh at each other as we ride-- and you all know that laughter is the best remedy for stress.

We'd all buy more food because you get hungry after a long ride. (Again, more economic stimulation.) We'd all lose weight and have to buy new clothes. We'll all have more energy, so we'll work harder and faster and make more money.

Problem solved-- I'm really not seeing a downside here.

Except for the snow. But, according to the democrats, we're all in for global warming anyway, so it's all good.

Maybe I should run for President. Next time, I'll let you know how I'm going to fix the war in Iraq. Also with bikes, of course.

My Cup Runneth Over

Wow! I'm sitting here after two days of General Conference and I feel a lot like I do after Thanksgiving dinner-- tired and full. General Conference was absolutely fantastic, but I think it is going to take me a while to digest, you know?

Mike was so cute on Saturday morning. When President Monson came on, he looked up at me and said, "Mom, someday I want to be a prophet." I smiled and hugged him and thought how I'll just be happy if he goes on a mission and gets married in the temple. He's a great kid, though, so I wouldn't be surprised.

Our kids were actually surprisingly good during the whole weekend. Doug escaped to play gamecube a couple of times-- I guess Conference can't compete with Darth Vadar if you are four. He stuck in there for the first session and parts of all the others, though, so I can't complain.

So, I guess now comes the hard work. The Spirit told me quite a few things that I need to work on (never a comfortable feeling), so I guess it's time to do just that-- get to work!

Chasing Fall

I've wanted to take the kids up the the mountains to go hiking for a couple of weeks now. You see, I love fall, and there is nothing I love more than driving up the canyon and being amazed and awed every time I round a corner. I love the sound of crunching leaves under my feet. (And under my bike wheels too, by the way.) I love the smell of apples on trees and pumpkins and all of the smells that belong in this time of year.


There is, of course, a "best" time to see the leaves in the mountains, and I knew that we were on the trailing edge of that time this week. However, due to our complicated lives, it hadn't worked out for us to get up there yet, and I was bummed. Yesterday, I decided rain or no rain, the kids and I were going hiking.


Some friends felt the same way, so Helene, Tina, Joy, and I checked our kids out of school a little early (you're welcome, kids) and up we went. Here's what we found:

I wish that a picture could sound, smell, taste, and really look like what we experienced.

It was actually pretty funny-- four soccer moms herding 12 kids ranging from 2 to 10 up a single-track trail. We kept getting passed by mountain bikers who were wondering how many people in this crazy train they were going to have to pass. Sorry we threw off your groove.

Here's the kids:

And here are their crazy moms:


Thanks for following me up the mountain, guys!

Please Wait While Norton Fixes Your Problems

After my unfortunate email incident from last weekend, I decided to update my Norton anti-virus program. I let it lapse when the free trial period ended a couple of months ago-- bad plan on my part.

Anyway, it is taking a long time to get updated, and meanwhile, the program is displaying this message: "Please Wait While Norton Fixes Your Problems."

I have two thoughts about that message-- Number 1: that is totally awesome, and Number 2: no wonder it is taking so long. Here are a few of the problems that I hope old Norton fixes(whomever he may be):

1. The floor is coming up by the tub in the kids' bathroom. Thanks for taking care of that.

2. My lawn needs mowed and I'm too lazy. ( I don't really care if you take care of the lawn or give me more energy-- either way works for me.)

3. The brakes are still squeaking on my van, even though they've already been replaced. (Maybe this isn't so much a problem as an endearing characteristic of my vehicle. I mean endearing in the same way as my kids spitting toothpaste all over the bathroom counter is endearing. Seriously-- can't we at least TRY to hit the sink?)

4. While we're at it, let's clean the kids' bathroom. It's obviously a problem for me and for them.

5. This might take more RAM than my computer has, but could you do something about the stock market and economy? It's kind of getting to be a bummer.

I'm pretty sure Norton has stalled out and I'm gonna have to reboot. Must have been number 2.

You Can Call Me Michaelangelo

Since President Uchtdorf's talk on Saturday night, I've been trying to make a mental shift to thinking of the things I do as creations instead of as drudgery. Here are some things I've created in the last few days:

* Piles of clean, neatly folded (sort of) laundry CREATED from two baskets of dirty clothes.
*Two homemade, new-recipe dinners in a row CREATED in my new kitchen. (One was considerably better than the other.)
*Stiff muscles in my stomach CREATED from 1 hour of Pilates Monday night.
*2 full shelves of food storage CREATED because I'm freaking out about the economy.
*One happy PTA board CREATED because we kept the board meeting under an hour.
*3 happy kids CREATED because Albertsons had a 10 for $15 sale on fruit snacks.
*One happy husband CREATED... Nevermind about that one. :-)

Dang. I feel like an artist.

A Letter To The Spammers Who Screwed Up My Email

Dear Spammers,

Thank you for making me aware of how vitally connected I am to my email. This weekend, you somehow gained access to my email account and contacted everyone I know about your cheapo-scam website. Most people could tell that the email was not from me. (Next time, you might at least try to make it seem like you have more than a second grade education when you send an email from someone else.)

Also, thank you for deleting my ENTIRE contact list. You forced me to take a look at who I really want in there.

I thank you because your deplorable actions caused me to take some security measures I should have taken long ago. I keep hearing about people whose lives are ruined because of information theft-- thank you for the wake-up call.

Still, as we are all responsible for our actions, I am reporting you to every agency I can find. Seriously, you put a link to your website in the email-- brilliant. If it were up to me, you'd spend a little time in jail and all of it would be spent sitting in front of a computer typing "I'm Sorry" letters to all of the people inconvenienced by your stupidity.

Sincerely,

A Victim

Ode to Pilates, Week 2

Breathe, two , three four
Bend and stretch a little more.
Put my foot over my head?
Just one more rep and I'll be dead.

Hold that pose just one more minute
Might as well--think I'm stuck in it.
Stand on my head? Now that's a joke.
For that, I'd need more diet coke.

My arms are shaking, my legs are weak
My butt is burning, I cannot speak.
My gut's not feeling like it should
But man oh man, that sure felt good!

Seriously, Jamie, you in next week???

Top Ten

As Layne always says at the end of Sunday, "Another weekend shot in the butt." In the spirit of "glass half full" and all that, I offer my top ten of the week list:

10. I haven't heard back from the PTA council president yet. She sent me a nasty-gram email and asked me to respond. You bet I did. Sorry about that, Kara.
9. The week was completely soccer-game-free. Is that what it feels like to get out of jail?
8. I cooked every night but one. (Really, you want me to cook on Friday night?) Oh. Saturday doesn't count either.
7. I didn't water the lawn. The lawn didn't grow. I didn't have to mow the lawn. Why didn't I think of this before?
6. Mike wants to earn money for a new Wii game which costs about $60. Mike is my slave for a long time.
5. An article I wrote forever ago was published in the Ensign this month. You can read it here, if you're bored.
4. The construction crew finally came and finished my road. They actually swept up all of their cigarette butts and empty water bottles too! Somebody tip those guys.
3. Layne had a much better week at work this week. This means that we all had a much better week at home too.
2. I put over 80 miles on my bike this week in absolutely perfect weather every day. (Normally this would be #1)
1. President Uchtdorf's talk last night justified much of the mundane existence which is my life as a full-time mother and made me feel like homemaking is an art again. Go Moms!

Here's to a new week-- may we all be blessed with the creativity that is ours for the taking...

Stay-At-Home Mom?

One of the first questions I always get asked when I meet someone is, "what do you do?" I've always answered something like "I'm a stay-at-home Mom." I've decided that is a lie. I never stay at home, and I don't know any "stay-at-home" moms who really do.

Here's why. As if there aren't enough required things to do (grocery shopping, doctors, dentists, etc.) "stay-at-home" moms get all of the chores that the other moms don't do. PTA, soccer coach, carpool, church stuff-- you name it, it falls to us. We are the way the world gets done.

Some days it sounds pretty dang good to leave everything home, go somewhere with grown-ups and get paid to do much less than I currently do in a day. The reality is that the world needs more "stay-at-home" moms much more than we need more advertising executives.

So, next time someone asks me what I do, I'm gonna say I run the world.

Pilates Defined

After weeks and weeks of prodding, I ran out of excuses and joined my friends at Pilates last night. In case you're wondering, the word "pilates" is Latin for "suffer-fest." I'm fairly certain it was a type of Roman torture only used on people they really had it in for.

I've seen how stiff Tina, Calli, and Joy are for a day or two after this class and have avoided it quite well-- until last night. I think they all enjoyed the reversal of roles-- I was the clueless Padawan and they were all the Jedi Masters.

I walked into the torture chamber and watched as people staked a claim on a spot with a mat and a medicine ball. My friends, who all have mats of their own, of course, handed me one of the germ infested loaners. After some quick thinking, I staked my claim on the only spot in the room where I couldn't see myself in a mirror. (Good thinking me, right?)

It begins. The perky, skinny little sadist put on a microphone and began asking us to contort our bodies into painful, unnatural positions, all the while blabbering about nothing in the attempt to distract us from the fact that she said "Four More!" about twenty repetitions ago. Pure trickery. Pure evil.

The whole time, I'm doing my best to make it look easy. I can't see myself in the mirror, but I'm sure no one is noticing my beet red face and the dripping sweat pouring down my neck, right? What I'm really hoping is that no one notices me at all, because the real reason I avoid this kind of thing is that I am God's gift to the graceful people-- you know that gift that makes them all point and laugh and feel superior? Yeah. That's me.

Pilates Patty or whatever her name is finally declared free time and showed us a few things to work on. When she did a move called the "elephant" where she twisted her legs about five times, lifted them over her head, then raised herself up on one hand (not really), I had to laugh. Obviously she is the devil who is inhabiting the body of Cheerleader Gumbi. I do have to admit, though, that the stretches at the end were fabulous.

So, nearly 24 hours later, my body is starting to protest its mistreatment. Seriously, I can ride a bike for 60 miles and not feel a thing the next day, but a 55 minute class taught by someone I could throw across the room with one hand leaves me feeling like I got stuck under a steamroller? Like I said, Latin for suffer fest.

So, in the spirit of misery loves company, my question is who's joining me next week?

I Love Mop 'n' Glo!

In a few moments of responsibility (to counter my irresponsibility from Wednesday), I shut the garage on my poor bike this morning and picked up a broom. (I know, you'd think that maybe I was going to ride it after the last couple of posts :-) Instead, I cleaned everything-- all three bathrooms and even the black hole that is the kid's toy room in the basement. (Seriously, why would you leave a half eaten apple on the couch??)

In all my nerdliness, I really enjoyed cleaning my new kitchen. In the spirit of newness, I gave up the pine-sol used by my mother, my mother's mother, and so forth, for Mop 'n Glo. Love it! My new floor was so shiny that Layne thought it was wet two hours after I'd done it.

Makes me wonder if it's time to get rid of Ajax too???

Post-Note: After reading this blog, my mother wants me to let y'all know that she switched to Mop 'n Glo YEARS ago. Thanks, Mom, for leaving me in the dust. Or Pine-Sol, as the case may be.

The Rudendess Syndrome

I think that I made my feelings about the road construction sufficiently clear yesterday. After careful observation, however, I think that I neglected one very important side effect of this debaucle-- a marked increase in rudeness.

Utah has always been a scary place to drive. I guess perhaps it is the faux power we feel in relative anonymity. (No one knows it's me in this sea of silver mini-vans.) We take out our frustrations from behind the wheel. For example, the only time I ever saw my dad flip the bird was in traffic.

The Anonymous Utah Driver Principle states that, even though the moron who just cut you off and stole your parking place might be someone you know (c'mon, this is a very small town), you have to pretend it's a stranger you'll never see again.

However, since the beginning of the AFIP (Really stands for American Fork Irrigation Project, although I'm reworking the acronym to stand for A Flippin' Imbecilic Piece-of-Crap, or at very least the American Fork Irritation Project) the rudeness on the road has made its way indoors.

Take for example the woman at the Target food counter today. (We'll save the reason I was eating there for another day.) The checkout girl was new and accidentally added on a $1.75 box of breadsticks to her order. You'd think the girl had tried to steal her social security number. When she finally settled down enough to go get her Icee at the Icee machine and she discovered they hadn't given her one of those special dome shaped lids, she really hit the roof.

A short while later at Wal-Mart, I got my head bitten off by some lady whose child was blocking the isle. I said "Excuse me, please" in my nicest talking-to-a-little-kid voice, and she looked at me like I spoke Japanese. I said it again, a little louder, waiting for her mother to hear me and move her out of the way. Nothin'. I said "Excuse me" louder this time, and the mother turned and looked at me like I had just ran over her child with my cart.

She went off on me about yelling at her kid, and as I tried to explain how I had nicely said "please", she mocked me and said, "Sure you did. She's just a little girl. Some people...." I left quickly.

Doug looked up at me in horror-- I think he was ready to go back and fight the lady for me. He asked if I felt bad and I told him a little, but that it was okay. He said, "Don't feel bad, Mommy. Your family still loves you and families are better than meanies." What a cutie.

My whole point in these illustrations is that they are happening more frequently and I attribute it to the AFIP. People can only tolerate and absorb a certain amount of rage before it starts spilling out of their mouths all over whoever happens to be in their path. Being as we are all subject to exponentially higher amounts of it every time we start our engines, I'm afraid we're all going to see more of this over the next three years. The city should have included in the AFIP budget a few doses of valium for each household, just to keep the peace.

Oh, and to the lady who vomitted her rage on me today, I hope that your little outburst made you feel better somehow. Thanks for giving me the opportunity to explain to my 4 year old son about why some grown-ups don't use their good manners.

An Open Letter to the Brain Surgeons In-Charge of the AFIP (American Fork Irrigation Project)

Dear Sirs,

Wow! I just want to thank you for the excellent job you’ve done of planning and executing the first few months of the AFIP. It is obvious that great thought went into timing the road construction just-so.

For example, starting down 900 East on the day that school started was pure inspiration. Why in the world would we want parents to get used to safely dropping off their children on the first day of school? As they would need to find a different route there every day, it was brilliant to make sure that no one got too comfortable on that first day.

I also want to compliment you on your choice of employees working on this project. Speaking only from my own personal experience, they are truly stellar individuals. I have appreciated every one of the cigarette butts left on my street. Seeing them work has been the picture of efficiency, as often one of them is actually working and the other five are “supervising”. I have truly been pleased to wind my way home and find them parked in front of my driveway blocking access to my home, or smoking under my tree.

My best experience yet happened just yesterday. One crew was busy on the end of my street paving the trench. As I live in a cul-de-sac, my understanding was that they were not supposed to block access completely out of our neighborhood. As these kind gentlemen always follow that rule to the letter, I guess I could have gotten through, had I driven a few feet on my neighbor’s lawn. I chose instead to come through the opening in the gate to the street below.

As soon as I came through, trying to get to the next street to take my son to pre-school, a kind gentleman with impeccable manners told me I couldn’t go that way either. As the other road was blocked, I asked him how he suggested that I proceed. Apparently my tone of voice was not to his liking, and he answered me with some of the most colorful language I’ve heard in a long time. Kudos again on finding some very creative people. Who knew you could use so many four letter words in one sentence?

Thank you also for helping me to see streets and areas of American Fork that I haven’t been down in years. I have had to hone my own creativity in finding my way home, especially when I find that the two major East-West streets are closed at the same time. Way to make us think outside of the box. I love driving extra miles and miles with gas prices so wonderfully low right now.

Really, I don’t know how things could go any better. If we actually felt a sense of correlation and planning behind this nightmare, we might not really appreciate it when it was done. I, for one, applaud the wonderful job you’re doing. Makes me wish I would have voted for the thing!

Sincerely,

Kim Garrett

Playing Hookie

I was all set to be responsible this morning. I got up, got the kids to school, and threw the bike on the trainer, thinking I'd put in a quick 30 minutes before I had to shower and get to my meeting with the principal. Just as I'm about to begin my suffer-fest, Tina called.

Somehow, the stars had aligned just right, and both of their husbands were home and able to watch all the kids. It took me about 10 seconds to call the principal and beg out of my meeting. The funny thing was that I didn't feel one drop of guilt about it-- not even one.

You see, today was the perfect day for a ride, and that justifies whatever you have to do to get out. If I could pick ride conditions for every ride I do, they would match today. The weather was just right-- not too cold or too hot. The roads, although beat up (gotta love American Fork right now), were relatively empty. I had two awesome friends by my side, my favorite cycling gear was clean, my bike was lubed-- seriously, does it get any better?

We headed Southwest to the Jordan Parkway Trail for a round trip of 22 miles. This was Tina and Calli's longest ride ever. We were all so happy to be there-- everyone should do something that makes them feel that alive.

My only guilt came from the fact that Layne was stuck at work while I was out thoroughly enjoying myself. Sorry, Babe. Maybe you can go after work?

Too Many Peaches

Don't be surpised if there are extra keystrokes in this post. My fingers are sticky, as is every other part of me, from canning peaches tonight. Yes, I have gone domestic and actually bottled fruit. (Not only that, I actually bought my OWN steamer-thing. That would be more impressive if I knew what it was called, huh?)

My mom, dad and sisters turned my mom's kitchen into a factory and cranked out 50 quarts and 30 pints. We canned until we ran out of bottles, energy and time.

The peaches were in the kitchen, filling every container Dad could find when he picked them. At one point, we came in and found Doug sitting on top of the peaches in the laundry basket. I yanked him out and started scolding him and he just looked at me with that "What did I do wrong?" look. He sits on my laundry in the basket all the time-- I guess he didn't see the difference. That's Doug for you.

Peaches, peaches, peaches. Mike ate so many, I'm just waiting for the poor kid to start moaning from the bathroom. I'm pretty sure that's all the kids had for dinner. Come to think of it, that's what I ate too. I think I've had enough, though. Until next year, that is...

A Perfect Moment

Due to the ward campout last night (which we bailed on after dinner), we had no babysitter for our usual Saturday morning ride. Taking advantage of a good excuse, we slept in this morning, which was delicious. It left us in such a good mood that we decided to get up and be good parents and take the kids out for a family bike ride.

They had already fed themselves breakfast (awesome skill, by the way), so we packed up pretty quickly and left. Even though we were only going to do about 5 miles of the Jordan Parkway Trail, they put on their bike shorts and insisted that we do the same. My boys are hilarious in their spandex glory-- really, should lycra ever be baggy? The padded butt makes it even funnier, but they think they're cool.


After some issues loading the bikes, we got to the trail. It was about 72 degrees, the sun was shining and there was a tiny breeze blowing. A few of the leaves were starting to turn gold and red and if you watched carefully enough, you could see a fish come to the surface of the Jordan River every once in a while.

Layne had Doug on the tandem today. He was pedaling along, looking around, standing up every once in a while and yelling, "Pedal faster, Daddy!" Emalee was right behind Layne, showing off her skills and trying to pass him when he wasn't looking.

I kept Mike right in front of me, as he is pretty unsteady on his tiny Trek 1.2. It's way too much bike for a 6 year old, but he looks so flippin' cute on it, I couldn't resist. He did great, too, until he tried to catch Emalee and got going so fast that his feet flipped right off the pedals and he nearly went down.



As I'm bringing up the rear, I realized that this was a truly perfect moment in my life. I was with the perfect people, doing the perfect thing, on a perfect day. There is nothing in the world that would have made that hour any better for me-- not a single thing. Those moments are so rare in life, and it is even more rare to realize that you are in the middle of one. I knew it was short-lived-- an hour at most-- but I still thanked God for giving me that piece of heaven and I asked that it would be captured so well in my memory that I can draw on it during the "unperfect" moments sure to come.

The Solution

Calli and Tina found a solution to the ride problem-- Tina watched Calli's kids while she and I did 12 miles, then they switched and Tina and I did another 10 or so. I don't know how it went for them, but it worked out really well for me.

Calli and her new bike were dying to open up and see what they could do. We got a good warm up through town to the south side and went over my nemesis railroad tracks. I asked her if she was ready to open it up, she said "heck yeah." I shifted 53/12, stood up over the cranks and hit 28 mph right quick. I have to admit I was showing off, and proceeded to "kick her trash" to the end of the mile long street. (Her words, not mine.)

Yes, I was showing off. Yes, the cycling court of ethics should suspend me for wiping the floor with a newbie-- especially a good friend newbie. In my defense, I have to say I pushed it more for the joy of pushing it-- because it's been a seriously long while since I opened up like that.

Calli was great about it. She pulled up to me at the stop sign and said "That" (wheeze) "was" (wheeze) "freakin'" (double wheeze) "Awesome!" (wheeze, cough, wheeze). I was wheezing a little myself (I kicked my own trash, too.) One mile in 2 min, 20 seconds. Not bad.

*Side note-- I was particularly proud of my padawans today. They both averaged over 15 mph-- pretty dang good for newbies! Good job, Tina and Cal!

More Bad Bike Mojo

I've got bad bike mojo hangin' around me. I just have to face it. This is usually my favorite month for cycling-- perfect weather, Doug in preschool for 5 hours a week-- I should be getting in at least 3 awesome rides a week. So, since school started, why have I only had 1?

Part of the time, I have been going with my new padawan cyclists. Being Tuesday yesterday, I got ready for a 30 miler while Doug was busy learning about the letter "B". I got my Pilot 5.2 out of the garage, worried that she'd be mad at me for spending so much time on the FX. She didn't hold a grudge, though and I tenderly guided her through the minefield which is now my street. (Dang construction crews!) However, when I stopped to see if Calli wanted to come, everyone else did too. I took Pilot back home and traded for FX with the tandem attached. I haven't dared look at Pilot since-- I'm sure she'll hold a grudge. My plan was to ride 10 with them then trade and get in 15 or so by myself.

Bike Mojo had a different plan. Calli had one kid in a trailer, Tina had one in hers, and I had a kid on the tandem. After 5 miles, Calli's trailer blew a wheel-- splattering tire slime all over the road-- and all over Joy, which was funny. We ditched the trailer in someone's front yard and put two kids in Tina's trailer. Calli and Joy bailed (every man for herself), and Tina and I slowly made our way back up out of Saratoga Springs.

One mile later, Tina blows a wheel on her trailer and we are officially done. We were close to where her husband parks his truck for the park-n-ride (yay Ken!), and Tina luckily had the keys, so we unhooked the trailer and she went to get the truck. Sitting there on the side of the road with three kids, I started to laugh. Tina got back and we both laughed, then felt pretty dang cool for rescuing ourselves, then we picked up Doug and ate Subway for lunch.

Bad ride, but funny day, actually. But tomorrow, I'm going for broke :-)

Dust to dust

I've spent the last few days in a cleaning frenzy. Now that my kitchen is done, I don't have any more excuses for the inch and a half of dust that has accumulated on every surface of my home. You know it's time to do something about it when your kids start leaving you messages written on top of the piano. Who needs dry erase anyway?

I filled a vaccum bag, used up most of a can of furniture polish, am stiff in the shoulders from washing and scrubbing, but at least the bottom floor of the house is clean. Well, almost. I haven't gotten to the bathroom yet. We won't talk about how the kids are leaving me messages in there...

About Freakin' Time

It's finally done! The contractor finished up all of the little things today, I paid him and I now have my house back! Except it's not really my house back-- at least part of it is brand new.

It looks fantastic, if I do say so myself. After countless trips to Home Depot, Lowe's and various other flooring, tile, lighting, etc. stores, I finally have things in the kitchen exactly the way I want them. From this point on, all of the dirt that gets in there is my own dirt-- not 30 years of other peoples' accumulated shiz.

This is the first time in my life where I have not settled for anything. Layne spoiled me rotten. I wanted granite countertops-- I got them. I wanted a tile backsplash-- I got it. I wanted all new stainless appliances-- got them too. It is beautiful-- I could just stare at it all day.

The only problem with this whole situation is that, now that I have the kitchen just how I want it, my bedroom seems awfully outdated. . .

A little spaghetti

The coolest thing happened today-- I cooked spaghetti. Yes, I know, it's only spaghetti. I ate so much of the flippin' stuff growing up that it's not one of my favorite meals. (The seemingly weekly rotation also included tacos, beef stroganoff, corned beef casserole, and lasagne casserole-- I never make any of those things now, althought my family has probably had it with grilled chicken, stir fry and, well any other thing with chicken in it.)

Anyway, I am so excited to cook spaghetti because it means that my kitchen is finally finished!!! Okay. Finished as in useable. The contractor is coming back tomorrow to do a few more touch ups, but for all intents and purposes, we are back in business!

I spent most of last night putting things in cupboards and cleaning up. I could have cried to eat my cereal out of a real bowl with a real spoon this morning. The best part is that the kitchen is as good as I envisioned. When I was cooking the spaghetti, there was actually room for Em, Mike and Doug to be in there helping me. No more one-woman kitchen! Now the little turds will have to come up with a different excuse for not helping me in the kitchen because now, there actually IS room!

My New Converts

I now have my own cycling club. There are four of us and most of the time we are all pulling multiple children in trailers or on tagalongs.

I used to be the only one in lycra-- until today. I spent most of the afternoon helping two of my crew to buy new bikes. Calli even went full-bore with cycling shoes, pedals and yes, even BIKE SHORTS! She looks wicked cool on her new Trek 1.2 WSD. Joy looks equally cool on her FX 7.2 WSD. I'm still working on getting a bike for Tina.

I have to say that all of this is somewhat like being a missionary. However, I'd forgotten the somewhat stressful aspect of that calling-- the part where you feel responsible for getting everyone into whatever it is that you're converting them to.

I worry a little that one of them will get hurt or will regret these pricey purchases and that will be my fault. I'm not positive they are all going to be junkies like me and it's a little worrisome. I know they are all grown ups, but the big sister in me thinks that I am somehow responsible for everyone else.

Well, either way, at least for now I have riding buddies and we can take advantage of the absolutely gorgeous weather that is fall!

Good Day to be a Woman

I'm sitting here watching Sarah Palin give her acceptance speech for the Republican VP nomination and I am proud to be a woman. This lady is super-cool. She was talking about driving herself to work and being a hockey mom (is that like a soccer mom here?) She is awesome. Maybe it's a good thing that McCain is so old. If he kicks it in office, we're in seriously capable hands. (She was a PTA president, after all! :-)

Doug's first day of preschool-- year two

No, my son was not held back in pre-school. About this time last year, I decided that Doug was getting bored, and, quite honestly, I wanted a few hours a week to ride my bike-- so I enrolled Doug in pre-school. He did very well, of course.

This year is Doug's legitimate year for pre-school. He went off like it was no big deal-- he told me I didn't need to walk him to the door because he already knew the way. It was all I could do to get the picture above.

So there he goes. My baby doesn't need me to walk him to the door and I turned 34 on the same day. I lost my keys 4 times today, as well as my sunglasses, although they had just fallen down my shirt. I don't think that really counts as lost. I'm getting old...

We're pretending it's my birthday

My birthday is really September 2nd-- tomorrow. However, because of ever present soccer and the other million things we have to do tomorrow, we're pretending today is my birthday. I'm 29, of course.

The day started in one of my favorite ways-- sleeping in on a rainy morning. Tina called at about 9:00 and said to get out of bed and go on a bike ride with her and Calli-- our one chance without trailers full of kids. We were having a blast-- about 5 miles in and then the storm hit. We rode most of the way home in serious wind. I then had my first experience of riding in HAIL. Not great, but it was kind of funny. Calli was almost challenging the storm. I was happy to get home when we did.

I spent the rest of the morning cleaning the bathrooms-- badly needed. You know it's time to scrub when you'd rather hold it and use the bathroom at Walmart than use your own toilet. I'm feeling much better about it now.

We spent the rest of the afternoon at the cabin with my parents. It was beautiful, if not a little chilly. Here's some pics:

All in all, it was a pretty good almost birthday. We'll see how I feel about being 29 and 10 halfs tomorrow...