Bathroom Update

Well, Bitty pretty much hit the nail on the head. She took a look at our "bathroom" (the term is loosely applied) and said to Troy, "You're a good Tearer-Aparter!" Boy, Howdy. And thanks go also to Jim Schnepel and Steve Burnett, because they're pretty good Tearer-Aparters too. Now they can try their hands at being "Putter-Togetherers."

So, I find myself back at home, despite the lack of a toilet. I had planned on just completely moving out for at least a week, but it turns out that that can get tricky. Yesterday's adventures, though largely pleasurable, also included such antics as my cell phone leaping out of my pocket and straight into my sister's toilet, (how's that for terrible timing?) and a rather nasty injury for Stomper. On top of his flare-up of cat allergies, he was playing around last night (past everyone's bedtime, of course) and he jumped from the floor onto a bed, and as far as I can tell from his description, he pretty much landed on the top of his head. It was pretty freaky, but at this point we're pretty sure it's just a muscle injury. The poor kid was in so much pain, crying out just from moving his head. We decided to sleep at home last night so that we could be near Troy and Stomper could be in his own bed. He didn't sleep well, but after a call to the Doc this morning and some extra ibuprophen, followed by a two-hour nap, he's doing a lot better. He's still pretty stiff, but is recovering. Yikes.

You know, all this mess and trouble is pretty much totally overwhelming, but this morning as Troy and I were doing some dishes together, peeking in at our darling sleeping boy, and Bitty was happily playing and really being so sweet and charming, we had a moment of just meeting each others' eyes. I said, "THEY are why we're doing the bathroom." And then we both had to cry a little because we love our kids so much, and each other.

So, for today, Troy is working around us a little, and we're appreciating the use of Troy's parent's camping potty, now located in our garage, a.k.a. the outhouse. Aren't you loving all these details? Okay, here are some pix. A little 'before' bathroom, with a pre-injured Stomper doing some of the heavy duty work, followed by the aftermath of three men armed with pickaxes and sledgehammers. You may notice how there is a lack of foundation under the walls. Poor Troy. This dumb house...we love it, we hate it.



Goodbye, you ugly disgusting bathroom!






Well, wish us luck. We need it.

Homeless

I meant to blog before I got kicked out of the house. I really did. After all, there was so much going on! I think we had three full days of Pioneer Day celebration. Well, maybe just two. But they were eventful. And delightful. And firework-full. I have lots of pictures to share. However, I do not have access to those pictures at the moment because I'm homeless.

My dear tireless husband...well, let's not say tireless because I think he's exhausted. But he keeps working anyway. Anyway, he's been forced to start another project. This does not mean in any way that the other large project going on at our house is finished yet - our attic is still in the works. But, as those of you who have ever had to use the "facilities" at our house know, our bathroom needs a little attention. Okay, lots and lots of attention. So, I moved out. I took the kids and a huge duffel bag and am now making life crazy at my sister's house, and thank heavens for her. Also on our itinerary this week are trips to my parents', Bear Lake, and The Becky's. If the bathroom takes long enough, we may have to repeat the cycle or perhaps visit Peter in California. We'll just see.

So far, it's been a delightful weekend, involving about the fourth past-11 bedtime for the kids. Last night we went to see The Muppet Movie at a special screening at the park. Margaret and I sang along to all the songs while Bitty did some dancing, squirming and exploring. This evening we kept not going to bed when we should because we were in the back yard enjoying the beautiful breezy evening, the happy happy kids, and the hammock. Can you blame us for not turning in early?

So, I will try at some point to post pix from the 24th festivities. I will post pix from poor Troy's latest project. And in the mean time, come on over and bring a shovel. Troy could use some help.

Can't Stand Losing a Message in a Bottle to Roxanne

Let me begin by making one comment.

Nice guns, Sting. Whoa.

And now, let us flash back approximately 23 years to the Johnson residence in SLC, Utah, one of my first babysitting jobs ever. I was twelve or so. Get this. They had no t.v. Ahhhhh! What was a twelve year old kid to do? The kids were all in bed and I had at least two hours before the parents came home. So, I put on a tape and made up dances to it. Yes, I confess that I was rolling around on the Johnson's living room floor at 9:00 at night, doing some very interesting choreography to the sweet strains of Sting's voice. Hey, I was twelve. And that is where it all began.

I guess I had to tell that story, because that is how deeply the music of the Police is burned in my brain, how much it is a part of the workings of my system. I have listened to them for 2/3rds of my lifetime. So, a few months back, when I was at the Stringham residence one morning, and Shawn started buying tickets for the show, I had to have him get me a pair. I ended up going with that gang, (Stringham, Jardine, Stewart-x-2, Burt, Marsh...) and bringing along my dear friend T.L:



I've never been to Usana Amphitheater before, and I found it to be a great place to watch a show, and a rotten place from which to depart. (Although I did enjoy Charisse's horrible date story while we were waiting to get out of the parking lot...) Anyway,the show started with a little rockin' opener from Elvis Costello, including a cameo duet with Sting:



And then came The Police. Happy days. They look pretty good! Well, Andy Summers is kind of on the froggy-side of looking good, but he sure can play. Stewart Copeland looks better, in a cute cool-grandpa kind of way, and he definitely gets to join the league of drummers who make funny faces. Not that I blame them - drumming looks like some serious effort you know? And Eddie, I don't think you're a funny-face-making-drummer, just so you know. And then there was Sting. Did I mention the guns? Well, anyway, he looked ....uh....just fine.

You know, I love concerts. I don't go much anymore, but I sure did a lot in high school and college, and I was thinking about why I love them so much, especially outside on beautiful summer nights. I love it when the sun goes down and the lights on the stage blare up so you can't really see anything around you but the stage. It makes it kind of personal, like it's just you and the band, and they're singing right to you. You can bounce around a dance any way you want because no one's looking at you, or if they are, who cares. You can sing your guts out along with them because the music's so loud that no one can hear you. I love that I didn't have to listen to any Police before the concert for a lyric review. It's in my bones, baby. I love that there are 15,000 (?) other people there feeling the same excitement and thrill that you are, hearing music they've loved for most of their lives. It was awesome and I wish I could go again tonight.

And on a closing note, I would like to say that my husband also has some very nice guns and I wouldn't even consider trading him in for Sting. Next time Troy puts on a skin-tight black t-shirt, I will have the camera ready.

Oh Just Forget It!

You know how, after starting a blog, you start to look at life as a series of blog entries? Some things are big events we want to record, some things are funny stories, some things are just random observations or the capture of one magical moment. Well, I've had about 12 of each of those things in the past week, and I kept meaning to get to the computer and blog about them, but...well...choose your excuse:

1.) Life has been so hectic that I simply couldn't cram another moment in at the computer.

2.) Actually nothing that exciting has been going on.

3.) I just didn't feel like it.

4.) I was trapped under something heavy. (Name that movie...)

Is it possible that at least three of the four replies are all a little true? And at this point, which events/comments/memories do I actually record?

Should it be the day we spent swimming in the back yard with both my sister-in-law (+ kids) and my dear friend TL (+ kids)?

Should it be the two days we spent frantically preparing for the sudden departure of our bedroom furniture - it's old, dark, very heavy, and wouldn't fit in our attic. So when we found a taker, willing to come and pick it up, we were willing to get rid of it several months before we needed to. This led to two trips to IKEA in two days plus several hours of new-drawers assembly plus rearranging most of the house...then the people coming to pick it up didn't show for three more days. Oh well. At least it's done and our bedroom looks 20 times better - I almost don't want to give it up to the kids now when the attic is done.

Or how about getting new insulation in the attic for free? Or having a great jewelry party at my house with awesome stuff? Or how about just now remembering that I totally spaced a Brighton Girls Camp Staff reunion play date at the park yesterday? (I believe I did the same with a dentist appointment a few days before...) Or how about the fact that I got to watch a video tape of the original pre-Broadway production of The Drowsy Chaperone at a party last week? Or how about a lovely evening I spent with the women in my church, eating salads on the back lawn of a woman I've known for 10 years but feel like I just barely got to know? How about the impromptu dinner I threw for my family because my next-door-neighbor gave me a bag full of fresh mushrooms from the farmers market? (It really was the most divine meal - I sauted the 'shrooms with leeks and shallots, thyme right from the garden, and added a little white wine and veggie broth, reduced it down, ladled it over fresh homemade pasta and grated a little parmesan on top...are you kidding me!!! It was awesome!)

See what I mean? Too much. So, I'm skipping it all. I will include one photo of my niece eating chocolate licorice because it is cute:



And now I am wiping my hands clean of the whole mess. It's kind of like getting behind on a magazine you like to read. They just start to pile up until there is no possible way you can read them all. Sometimes you just have to heap them in the recycle bin and start fresh. I'll try, from now on, not to get bogged down in my way-too-exciting, let's-not-miss-a-single-moment life.

The Day of Independence

I guess when you do the same thing for the third year in a row, it's officially a tradition. Yesterday we made our third annual trek to The Becky's house for swimming and other back yard shenanigans, (whoa, I can't believe it - I spelled that word correctly on the first try!) as well as grilled burgers for dinner and then fireworks on the back cement pad. The fireworks get set off about 2 1/2 hours before the sun actually sets. We like it better that way. Here are my favorite pix from the day. (Becky, I did not include the one of you with your finger up your nose. I like you too much to do that to you, but I do hope that at some point in our friendship you'll allow me to take one picture of you with you neither fishing for boogers nor doing a ground hog face. I've said my piece.)









The last is my favorite. My camera's battery was dying, so it was having trouble focusing, etc., and I found that to be a very happy accident.

And as for my favorite moment of the day? That had to be when, at the very near-to-fireworks hour of 7:00, there were a few splattering rain drops. The kids nearly burst with disappointment, fearing that our extravaganza would be canceled. However, after a few minutes Stomper, along with Becky's 8 year old son, came racing in the house with exciting news. They joyfully announced that they had said a prayer that the rain would go away, and then it did! Okay! Yay!

Our other tradition that is quickly taking shape is that of finishing the evening on our own front lawn, enjoying some rarely-spent time with our next door neighbors, the McGreggors, who have a 10-year-old son whom Stomper adores. Usually we're just getting home when they're starting to set off the armload of fireworks they have purchased. This year the dad, Malcom, just told us that they only got a few, so we thought we'd pitch in. We bought one measly little 7 dollar package with about 8 fireworks in it, 3 of which we set off the night before due to uncontainable excitement on the part of my kids. I felt a little sheepish handing over our small little collection, until I discovered that what Malcom meant by "only got a few" was two entire shopping bags full, not to mention some left overs from last year. Those, (plus our 5, don't forget!) meant that we were watching cascading sparks, breathing in toxic fumes and listening to the pops and screams until after 10:00. I loved Bitty. At The Becky's house, she was not able to handle the noise, and so we watched the display from the family room windows. By the time we got home, she had mustered up a little courage and wanted to watch from the lawn, albeit from a safe distance. Every time she was starting to get scared she'd furiously clap her hands and shout things like, "I love that!" "I'm happy!" "That was great!" just to reassure herself. She also spent a lot of time with her arms wrapped around my neck and saying, "I just love you, Momma Kitty!" Stomper, of course, was in heaven; his eyes glazed over in pyrotechnic delight. We've got to keep the matches away from that kid.

And with that, the kids were asleep by 11:15 and up at 10 this morning. Can't wait for the 24th!

Your Adventure Awaits

At least, that's what they tell you when they call your name at the Mayan. "Troy, party of 10, your adventure awaits!" I wonder how I'd do at a job where I'd have to play pretend with other adults. Like at Disneyland or something. Anyway, we at last made it to the Mayan restaurant with the Mayfields, and you know what? It was pretty fun!

When I grew up, in Boulder Colorado, there was a restaurant in Denver called Casa Bonita. I wonder if it's still there. I remember dying to go there, knowing that it had a real waterfall inside with divers and stuff. I do remember that we actually did go, maybe only once, and most of my memories are very foggy and vague. Something about sitting in a dim atmosphere, something about pirate-y tunnels we could run through, something about sitting among leafy branches, and of course something about seeing people dive off the waterfalls. I guess what I remember most is that on my plate was a pile of somewhat foamy peas. Not so good. And frankly, the cuisine at the Mayan hasn't gotten especially rave reviews either. I, however, chose wisely, and ordered the fish tacos. If you ever go, that's what you should get.

We had a grand time (as grand as you can have while keeping track of six rampaging children in a restaurant) and really enjoyed watching Mr. Tuckfield diving. He really is pretty much the most awesome diver there, and he had to be at least 10 years older than the other two divers. Here he is, doing a side flip from a rock right in front of us (forgive the peek at his very un-Mayan speedo):


You'll notice his one bandaged toe, which was broken, and still, he could dive!

Another novelty of the evening was being taken on a "backstage" tour - basically there's a rather muggy locker room behind the waterfall with ladders for getting out of the water or climbing up to higher leap-points. But we did meet the other stars of the show, one of whom looked pretty familiar. See if you can figure out where I've seen her before (and I don't mean Misty):



I'm sure, as no one has actually memorized all my entries, that you have no idea. However, she showed up in my entry about going to the zoo's grand opening of the carousel - she was the lion, jumping around on stilts, having glued whiskers into her nostrils. Well, I learned this evening, that no glue was involved. Just a very convenient nose piercing. You may notice the beads that are strung from ear to ear, making a brief detour through her nose. She's very nice. She's the fire girl, not a diver.

Well, enough said. Any evening with the Mayfields is a good evening. Through a little Tuckfield in, and we're all set, right!