G* News

The big girl bed!

We're hoping to have the crib vacated for Lil' Bronco's arrival. So we've begun the great transition. The bars came off about a week ago. Grace has done so well. We've only had one bad night. She insists on having that pillow, although you can see how much she uses it!

In preparation for a pool play group earlier this week, Cori and I made this purchase. We were hoping to find something along the lines of a deluxe floaty ring, but this was our next best option. She was able to do some solo floating (completely on her back due to the vest's life saving design) and I felt comfy letting the older kids at the pool play with her. Cute little marshmallow, isn't she?

Wordless Wednesday: The Cliffs at Portuguese Bend

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn

How is it that I had never read this book? Wow. I loved every one of its 493 pages. Set in pre-WWI Brooklyn, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn is the complete life and times of the young Francie Nolan. We get to know her through and through. Smith associates us with her heroine by giving us unlimited access to all the people who were part of Francie's life, directly and indirectly.


"And the child, Francie Nolan, was of all the Rommelys and all the Nolans. She had the violent weaknesses and passion for beauty of the shanty Nolans. She was a mosaic of her grandmother Rommely's mysticism, her tale-telling, her great belief in everything and her compassion for the weak ones. She had a lot of her grandfather Rommely's cruel will. She had some of her Aunt Evy's talent for mimicking, some of Ruthie Nolan's possessiveness. She had Aunt Sissy's love for life and her love for children. She had Johnny's sentimentality without his good looks. She had all of Katie's soft ways and only half of the invisible steel of Katie. She was made up of all of these good and these bad things. She was made up of more, too. She was the books she read in the library. She was the flower in the brown bowl. Part of her life was made from the tree growing rankly in the yard. "

I love the metaphor of the tree as it is used in this novel. It is a very familiar kind of idea--how we are part of a bigger story, a link in a chain of ancestors and posterity, a branch of a family tree. But this book made me think a little deeper. The branch is so independent, yet it is nothing if not connected to the tree. When the wind blows, the branch keeps a rhythm of movement in cadence with its fellow branches. When the snow falls, the branch leans on other branches to support the weight. And I could go all kinds of metaphor-crazy with ideas of grafting branches, and pruning... I think I'll leave that to Zenos (see Jacob 5). The point is, Smith romances her readers to fall in love with the tree so as to better understand the individual branch.

Contemplating this novel has caused me to reflect on my own surrounding branches, as well as the history of my tree as a whole. It is interesting to reflect on how separate my life has become from those of my loved ones while still being so inescapably connected. It is the miracle that allows us to stand on the shoulders of our mentors' experiences to obtain our own personal achievements.

Wordless Wednesday: La Mere

Happy Father's Day Dad!

If I could, I'd show off my Dad by creating a collage of pictures of him. The collage would show him talking on the phone at his office, on a plane flying across the country for work, happily laboring in the garden, happily mowing the lawns, happily working in the orchard, riding his horse, wearing his uniform over the decades he's been involved in scouting, wrestling with all four of his kids at the same time (when we were smaller), wrestling the boys who came over to visit us (when I got older) and pinning everyone, getting out of bed before his alarm at 5:30 AM on a regular basis, on his knees praying, reading a fatty book about economics or history, executing his 'daddy suspender school' on the ski slopes, playing the piano, strumming his guitar, heading out the door to Church 3-4 times a week, opening his wallet, hiking or camping--usually with a pack of crazy teenagers, "watching" TV while fast asleep, flying in his airplane over the Carson Valley, making his crazy list of tasks to be completed on the few Saturdays he's at home, and being pretty much the best dad a girl could ever hope for.

As it is, I have only a few pictures that would do my collage justice. I love you Dad. Happy Father's Day! (And welcome home from China!)

Dad at the top of Frog Lake, with 3 of his crazy teenagers on the way to Lake Margarette, at the park with Grace, strumming his guitar with Grace, and the last is a picture I took from Dad's plane as we flew over the Carson Valley.

Graciedotes

Bubble Bath time. Lovingly called "bubba" by the bathing beauty. It is a most enjoyed part of bed time.

Singing Time
Everyone must participate. With both hands. If there is anyone who tries to get away with just listening or half hearted participation, she will seriously point out the offender and we all have to stop and start over again. Her favorite songs are Itsy Bitsy Spider, Head Shoulders Knees and Toes, Popcorn Popping on the Apricot Tree, and Jesus Wants Me for a Sunbeam. She has also started singing with Cori at night. After family prayers, Cori takes Grace into her room and sings a couple of songs to her before laying her down. She sings right along, breathing in the same places as Cori and even singing some of the last words in each phrase. The first time she did this with me, I had a really hard time singing. I had a big lump in my throat that was half giggles because her singing is so cute, and half crying because it is so sweet.

She did this herself. She was pretty darn proud.

Favorites

Jumping. She loves to jump everywhere; on and off the elevator, up and down steps, and all through our apartment--much to our downstairs neighbors' chagrin.

Little Einstens, and Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. It has only been in the last few weeks that the TV has held any allure for her. I have to admit, I love the hour of distraction in the morning. Grace lets me feed her anything for breakfast, get her dressed in anything I choose, and comb her hair with out a single fuss. I can take a shower, blog, get myself ready, and enjoy an early morning free of the tear stained variety we were having.

We've got ears, its time for Cheers!

Finding Nemo. Another recent find. She loves this movie. I don't let her watch it until the evenings, she tends to get really fussy around 5:00ish. And even then, we use the scene selection feature to watch just bits of it. But again, the distraction is so great for me. I can make dinner in half the time because I have both hands free.

Talking. We've known it was coming. We've known that she would be a talker. Oh my. She says a new word nearly everyday. And we have long jabber sessions quite frequently. My favorite is when we go out to eat. Like the little big kid she is, she'll take her cue from me and Cori and place her order with the server. She nods her head and points at the menu and the table as she speaks.

Foods. It seems like her appetite has two switches, feast and famine. When the feast switch is on, she loves everything. Though her face doesn't portray her enthusiasm, that is a bowl of chopped red onions she is munching from. We waited for the sour face and instead got an "mmmMMMMmmm". She loves broccoli trees (especially if she has some ranch to dip them in), peaches, bananas, cherries, any kind of meat, yogurt, toast, and cheese, cheese, cheese.

Sacrament Mtg. Reverence
A couple of Sundays ago, Grace made for the most irreverent Sacrament meeting ever. You must realize that there are not many young children in our ward, so this part of the meeting is very, very quiet. Just as the prayer was being said on the bread, Grace decided that she really needed some Cheerios. Okay, here you go. "Crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch." So loud. Then we needed a drink of milk from the sippy. Y'all know how quiet those things are. Then she recognized Cori up on the stand. He was helping bless that day. "D-A-D-D-Y!!!" Then, looking at me and pointing to him, "D-Aaaaaaa-D-D-Y!!" Yes, Grace. I see him. Please use a quiet voice! By this point the family sharing the bench with us is laughing so hard that the whole pew is shaking. But her antics were not yet over. The piece de la resistance was yet to come. A few more crunchy cheerios and one lengthy slurp later, Grace let it rip. Yep. A nice resonant man belch. Oh my. So sorry Crestridge Ward. We are really trying to work on this.

In her happiest element; exploring, taking the world at her own pace, touching everything she can reach.

Wordless Wednesday: Meet Senior Rojo (AKA the 4 Runner)

Real Simple Interview

What's the one thing about your younger life that you would like to reclaim? I used to be an unsinkable optimist. I thought the best about every situation and every person. Life has beaten too much reality into me, and my once shiny optimism has become a bit calloused.

What are you really good at? Musical expression--all music tells a story if you let it. I can be a really good listener when I don't have Gracie around distracting me. I like to think that I have a certain flare for literary analysis.

Before I die, I'd like too... See our children have the same opportunities that I've had. I really have had an amazing go of life, and know that I have been blessed with so many extraordinary experiences. They've all been things that I've wanted to do, and I would love for our children to be able to dream big and achieve big.

John, Paul, George, or Ringo? Paul to look at and listen to. Although Ringo actually composed some of my favorites.

Who was your favorite teacher and why? Dr. Valentine, retired BYU literature professor. I took a short stories class from him just before my mission. In his class I really learned to read literature as life and vice versa. And he taught me another important lesson. We had this group presentation at the end of the semester that was worth 1/3 of our grade. I really worked hard in his class because I loved it so much, and was the annoying nerd who sits in front and never tires of commenting. Well, my group was less than enthusiastic about our assignment. We split the presentation up into timed segments and everyone had their topic to which their comments would be limited. In our final meeting, each member briefly went over what he/she would present. I was to speak at the end, addressing the symbols of the story, and pulling every one's comments together. Apparently, the group thought what I had to say was pretty great, because when the actual presentation came around, disaster ensued. Not only did my group mates lift all my material, they also took up all the time. We were the last presentation of the last class period before the final. I had exactly 45 seconds before the bell rang to earn 30% of my grade. Flustered and hurt I took the podium and made two or three underwhelming comments. The bell rang, everyone bustled out of the classroom. I gathered my things and was fighting desperately not to cry. Dr. Valentine approached me and shook my hand. I started to speak, I didn't know what to say. He sagely took my hand and told me that he was familiar with my papers, my tests, my work, and my participation with my group. He told me not to worry about my score for the presentation or my grade in the class. He turned and left. Later, when I completed my final for his class, I tucked a tear-stained thank you card into my blue book. I learned so much from him.

I wish I could ignore... my constant craving for Apple Jacks. I guess there are worse things to crave, but I could seriously munch on this cereal (with ice cold soy milk, of course) all day long.

The big decision I'm currently wrestling with is... How to best help my husband with his big decision. We are currently faced with a lot of different opportunities for his next position at Honeywell. These other jobs are all over the country. There is a lot to consider, but Cori knows better what will be best for his career. I'm trying to be as helpful as possible.

not on the list

There are a couple of books I've read this year that I would like to not recommend. Most recently, I finished The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger. I cannot deny that it was hard to put down. The story is a fascinating idea, and Niffenegger masterfully pulls it off. It jumps all over the place, but every piece fits together to create a picture of a most unique love story that redemptively conquers all. So, why not give it my stamp of recommendation? There is quite a bit of language and s*xuality as well as a completely casual attitude towards drug use and other, shall we say, unlawful behavior. I appreciate that all these things were necessary to the plot. The protagonist's s*x drive is symptomatic of the physical condition which controls his time traveling. And it practically becomes a third member in his relationship with the heroine. Likewise, anytime the protagonist time travels, he arrives at his destination without anything but his physical self; no clothes, no jewelry, not even a filling. Consequently, he becomes accustomed to stealing and occasionally beating people up for their clothing. While the story was a singular and fascinating ride, I can't argue in good conscience that it was worth muddling through all the other stuff. It isn't the kind of book that you can plan on just flipping past the bad parts, because the bad parts are purposefully woven too tightly with the rest.

A little while ago, I treated myself to a Sue Monk Kidd double feature. I bought both The Secret Life of Bees, and The Mermaid Chair on the same day. I read The Secret Life first, and loved it. The Mermaid Chair left a bad taste in my mind. Again, it is a masterfully crafted narrative. The characters are real and relative. Disappointment set in as the plot began swirling with infidelity, selfishness, and a couple of pages that I could have done without. I feel that Kidd deals realistically with all the consequences of her protagonist's choices. And there is an important warning--particularly to stay-at-home moms like myself--who have sacrificed personal aspirations for other life roll responsibilities. But again, I can't argue in good conscience that it is worth muddling through all the bad stuff to enjoy the good.

The humanities student inside can academically account for the presence of the bad aspects of these novels. I know the muck isn't there for muck's sake alone. It serves a purpose that goes beyond cheap Soap Opera tactics. The sad truth is that this junk is part of the world we are surrounded by. But this doesn't change the fact that it is still muck. Life is too short, and there are too many other amazing books out there.

Sunday School

This week, I learned (or relearned):

• After working for weeks to teach Gracie to say 'please' (and finally succeeding), that it would take only moments for her to learn how to say 'mine!' with great emphasis.
• Cleanliness is close to Godliness. Gracie and I spent the whole week while Cori was in NYC cleaning out our apartment. Closets, cabinets, and cupboards, are all sorted, cleaned and organized. This was done in an attempt to exert some control over our current moving limbo. We may not know the when or where about our move, but we could be ready tomorrow... In the meantime, the apartment is a little piece of heaven for me.
• lds.org is such a great scripture study tool. I've started doing my study during Gracie's nap time--the morning study schedule wasn't happening, and I'm too dead tired at night. I went onto the website to look up the Gospel Doctrine lesson, and just started reading it from the site. Soon, I was clicking my way around links and flipping effortlessly from the New Testament, to the Pearl of Great Price. I read a couple articles pertinent to the lesson, and even listened to a conference address. Its given me something new to look forward to in my scripture study.
• A couple of gems from my studies this week--all to do with signs of the Savior's coming, the last days, and the many perils that will necessarily be a part:
  “But where do we find hope in the midst of such turmoil and catastrophe? Quite simply, our one hope for spiritual safety during these turbulent times is to turn our minds and our hearts to Jesus Christ. … Armed with the shield of faith, we can overcome many of our daily challenges and overpower our greatest weaknesses and fears, knowing that if we do our best to keep the commandments of God, come what may, we will be all right” (in Conference Report, Oct. 1992, 41–43; or Ensign, Nov. 1992, 31–32). Doctrine and Covenants 45:34-35 And now, when I the Lord had spoken these words unto my disciples, they were troubled. And I said unto them: Be not troubled, for, when all these things shall come to pass, ye may know that the promises which have been made unto you shall be fulfilled.

Meet Walter and Terrible

So, I've really been missing the Turbo Kickboxing class at my gym. At my first doctor's appointment with this pregnancy, the Doctor told me it was good to exercise, but that I needed to keep my heart rate at or below 140 beats per minute (140 ='s not very much work. You should be able to hold a conversation without loosing your breath). So I tried to tailor the workout down. I monitored my bpm, and after a few tries, finally relinquished myself to an exercise regime outside of the aerobics room. Weights, aerobic aparati, and old men. Ahhh, the old stomping ground.

Seriously, 60% of the members that go to the gym the mornings I'm there are old men. At first it was a little alarming to me. But now I find it charming. For example, there's the man who comes in silk Hawaiian print shirts and lifts wearing gardening gloves. Leather gardening gloves! It is so cute. Most of them are very social, and I've been able to get to know a few.

Walter was the first. He and I hit it off during my first weeks at the gym last summer. He has been going to this gym every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for the last 15 years, and can count on 1 hand the number of days he has missed. An interesting thing to note about Walter's gym attendance is that he never touches any of the equipment. Walter comes to the gym to exercise one thing, and one thing only--his mouth. He admitted this to me early on, and has stayed true to his word. He comes, makes his social rounds, walks certain ladies out to their cars, and takes obligatory drinks from the water fountain. He is shorter than I, has the bluest eyes I've ever seen and is always smiling. Walter was a high ranking pilot in the Marines like my Grandfather. He and I usually chat about the same things.... His grandkids, his work at the Elk's Lodge, Gracie, and now my pregnancy. Charming.

This leaves Mr. Terrible. He's rather tall, younger than Walt, and a notorious flirt. I don't actually know his real name, nor does he know mine. We started a little banter via Walter's company. This was our script for the first couple of weeks:

Terrible: Hey there.
Me: Hiya, how are you this morning?
Terrible: Oh, just terrible.
Me: I can't believe that for a minute.
Terrible: Just making sure you're paying attention... How are you today?
Me: Fantastic, thank you very much.

After a while, we abbreviated our banter to a simple "Hello Terrible, how are you?" "Alright Fantastic, how about yourself?"

The other day, he approached me at the hip abductor.

"So, tell me what's going on here," he demanded, gesturing vaguely in my direction.

"What? Were you waiting for this machine? Did I cut?"

"No, I mean this." This time he gestured directly at my pregnant tummy.

Apparently, he had been assuming the wrong things regarding my age and marital status and had been working up the courage to say something about my 'situation'. After I assured him that I was almost 27, very happily married, and that this was, in fact, our second child the tension lifted. In turn, he intimated to me that he misses his own grandson, but that he and his girlfriend (so funny to hear a 60+ year old man say that word) find consolation living three months out of the year on Maui. Pretty rough. Cori, who really doesn't think very highly about all these older men, actually told me to work this angle a little.

I still miss TKB. I can see the class as I toil on the stationary bikes and elliptical machines (all the time carefully watching my heart rate). They got a new routine last week. I really miss it. But there's good company to be had on the floor.

Wordless Wednesday: Then and Now, June 06-07

The Funival

Enthusiastically named by a three-year-old in our ward.

Palos Verdes hosted a big fair this weekend. We spent a few hours there Saturday evening. We could have left Gracie at the petting zoo and come back for her the next morning. She loves everything animal. So between the petting zoo, the carousel, and the yummy carnival food (lets see... a soft serve ice cream cone, a lemon and sugar crepe, a bag of kettle corn and some Chinese food. It sounds like a lot, but we only got one of each and shared**... and I'm pregnant), all three of us went home fat and happy.






**Okay, okay, so maybe I ate most of the crepe moi meme, but Cori and Grace ate most of the kettle corn.

Tide Pools

On Saturday morning, we went with our friends the C* family to the tide pools off Abalone Cove. These are not the kind of tide pools that are set up in tanks and have paid admission. These are the real deal. It was a bit of a hike down to the shore, and then we spent a while exploring. Bishop wisely advised us to get a sitter for Grace, and we were glad we did. Not only did it save us from having to carry her around for most of the excursion, but we got to have a day date. Saturday, they had extreme tides, so the low tides were really low and the high tides came in fast and tall. As you can see, we are definitely entrenched in the Southern California climate phenom. known as June Gloom. Its very foggy and overcast most of the day. Hence the grey skies and grey waters.

We saw star fish, sea slugs, crabs, sea urchins, anemone, muscles and clams. There are octopus that hide in the rocks, but the water was too choppy to fish them out.The sea slug. There were hundreds of these guys.


The rock formations along the shoals.
The tide coming in... and the boys coming out.

Sunday School

A post dedicated to the things I've learned (or, more likely, relearned) this week

Sea slugs ink the way octopus do. A nice bright violet hew.

So often, the only thing I can control about a situation is myself; my actions, thoughts, motives, and attitude.


Similarly, there is a lot of peace and satisfaction that comes from correcting myself rather than pointing the finger of blame at anyone else.


Hardwood floors should have 4-7 days to acclimate to a house before installation. Before you get impressed into thinking that we are going to have any flooring other than the regular tan shag carpeting that comes standard with most apartment rentals, this is just a tidbit we learned watching HGTV.

Matthew 23: 5 But all their works they do for to be seen of men: they make broad their
phylacteries, and enlarge the borders of their garments. This is the Savior remarking about the scribes and Pharisees. Phylacteries are the prayer boxes the Jews strap to their foreheads and left arms as part of their worship. The size of the box is very obvious and was used (the size of the box, not the phylactery itself) to outwardly imply the piety of the person wearing it. Similarly, the borders of their garments refers to the fringed apron that the Jews wear as a symbol of obedience. In Jesus' time, it became fashionable to have very long and unavoidable fringes which were again intended to outwardly imply the piety of the person wearing them. What phylacteries and fringes do I don everyday? This was the real lesson of the week.

If only...

...I wasn't pregnant, and had a money tree dedicated to my whims and wishes, I would buy

this dress from Anthropologie that I goggled over with Jessica a couple of weeks ago. I almost bought it anyway.

...we had more time this Summer and had another money tree dedicated to travels, Cori and I would use the free airline ticket he just got and fly to

Kauai for a week. Though we don't have time or money for this trip, Cori is still looking up flights etc. to get us there, somehow. This was going to be our trip this year until we decided to go to Paris. I know, poor us. :)

...I had been able to stomache the Food Network again a little earlier, I would have seen

Alton Brown on Iron Chef America sporting a hideous beard and I would have written prolific fan mail begging him to get rid of it before taping anything else. I watched IC for the first time in months last night, and there it was. The beard that is. Yikes.