How I decompress when I get home from work.

Mac and cheese and House.

If you know the story of the lady and the sandwich in the fat rolls insert it here. If you don't, I don't really want to talk about it. You don't either if you want to eat dinner.

It's a blessing that I can down the mac and cheese.

News Flash: YOU'RE NOT FAT!!!

I get that you're hormonally whacked. I get that you're uncomfortable. I get that you're sick and want to vomit just so the feeling of wanting to vomit will go away. I get that you have hemorrhoids and varicose veins and you think your body has turned on you. But what I don't get is how you expected to grow a child without these things happening. To all you pregnant people out there, YOU'RE NOT FAT! You have a person growing inside of you.

But if you are fat and pregnant, quit eating for two. Or don't and get fat.
Whatever.
Don't care.
Just don't want to hear "I'm so fat" from a pregnant person again this week.

You're not fat, you're pregnant. There is a difference. One of them being that people who are actually "fat" don't post pictures of their bare bellies on their blogs. But don't even get me started.

I can't believe I actually had to inform you of this.
Now back your regularly scheduled programming.

What I'm Knitting

You don't care? Well, I'm doing laundry and washing diapers today so unless you'd like a visual of those activities you're stuck with what I'm knitting.

I was doing so well on Christmas projects. I have it figured out that if I complete one project a week I'll be done the first week of December. But I was side tracked by a little trip up the hill to a great little yarn shop. I was on a mission for sock yarn and came back with yarn for bell bottoms for Little Miss. Personally, I think every child should own a pair of hand knit bell bottoms. They are a necessity. Right Husband?


He says, "Yes Dear. Anything to keep you and my Little Miss happy." Now that she is saying "Papapapapapapa" when he gets home- he's toast. I'm going to start getting her to ask for things. Little Miss can you say Knit Picks, Lantern Moon, or how about handspun?

Could you say no to this? Pleeeeeease!?!

Soon we will work on "What does an alpaca say? What does a Merino say? and what does an Angora say?"

Ok. I'm about ready to admit I have a problem. A big yarn problem.

Nature! Eeew! Get if off of me.

Pictures of our hiking trips the last few weeks to follow. If you're not the outdoorsy type I suggest you go elsewhere. It's Sunday. Read the Ensign.

Look who's off leash and being a good girl! No one was more surprised than me, but she was a really, really good girl.



Princess Ani doesn't know she's a Coonhound. She should be ultimate outdoor dog but no one told her that. She refuses to lay in the dirt. Running through the bushes is a real sacrifice for her and if it's raining- forget it. Jed on the other hand...

Remember what it was like to be young and dumb? It kind of backfired though. They got kicked out of the drive-thru without food. In N Out is not somewhere I'd want to blacklisted from.

Random pic of how nice the drive was.

Yosemite Trip

I did wash my clothes between both outings, but yeah I'm wearing the same thing on both trips. Just noticed. Weird.

Tag. No Touch backs.

Oh, yes. Another tag. I'll do it because I'm not getting off my chair the rest of the day so I might as well.

7 Things to do before I die

See my bucket list.

7 Things I do now (as in like today?)

1. Knit bellbottoms
2. Sew Halloween costumes
3. Read The Chili Queen
4. Hike
5. Blog
6. Watch John bathe the dogs.
7. Go to the RS Broadcast. John is making me and they are serving dinner, so why not?

7 Things I can't do (as in like today or EVER)

1. Dive into a swimming pool
2. Sing with an audience
3. Play the accordion. Do you know anyone who can?
4. There's the whole pregnant thing which is a little annoying.
5. Hike another mile. I think my husband is trying to kill me. We went hiking (again) this morning and I can't walk. Thankfully neither can the dogs and Little Miss is exhausted. You thought I was kidding when I said I wasn't getting out of my chair.
6. Beat my husband at chess.
7. Rollerblade backwards.

7 Things that Attract me to the Opposite Sex

1. Latissimus dorsi. It's the muscle in their back. So hot!
2. An accent.
3. Patience is a virtue.
4. You gotta make me laugh. And not just haha, but seriously laugh till I can't breathe or pee my pants.
5. Goatees. The only reason Husband hasn't shaved his off a long time ago.
6. Tattoos and tongue rings. Twisted I know. How I ended up with my totally clean cut straight laced goodie goody is a mystery even to me, so I guess that is attractive too.
7. Marry a nerd. They make good husbands. Smarts and decent employment are very attractive.

7 Celebrities that I Like

1. Angelina Jolie
2. Gerard Butler (Talk about Latissimus dorsi!)
3. Bronco Mendenhall
4. Daniel Craig
5. Sally Field
6. Julia Roberts
7. Harrison Ford

7 Favorite Foods

1. Bul gogi
2. Fried chicken (But only when my dad makes it.)
3. Mashed Potatoes
4. Sushi
5. Moosetracks
6. Chow mein noodles
7. Grilled mushrooms and asparagus

7 People who need to do this.

If you're bored today you need to do this. And if you're checking my blog in the middle of a Saturday then you count as bored.

Cutefest Continues

Feast or famine. That's pretty much how life rolls, huh? Same goes with the pics. We're all about the cuteness factor this weekend.


My favorite face ever. She scrunches up her face and sniffs- like we do when we tickle her.


But what was really cute was watching her and Catherine share cookies yesterday. I would have taken pics but it would have been over the top cuteness. Overdose levels of cuteness. You couldn't have handled it. (And I left the camera in the car.)

The Cuteness Factor

I have been informed that my blog of late has been seriously lacking in cuteness. I am informed of that every day that there aren't pictures of Little Miss. I get it. Okay.



Poor Jedi. No longer top dog, but still so cute.


There is a biological difference between boys and girls. A boy probably would have been thrilled to be behind the wheel. She was just happy with the chap-stick.


The nesting family is done. I learned a few things painting this. Number one is that it was harder than I expected. Apparently my alter ego is a Molly Mormon RS President because that's what it ended up looking like. And I now know what my husband would look like if he gained 65 pounds.

Cute enough for ya?

My life is over as I know it.

Gone are the days of sitting peacefully rocking my baby while I knit or read. She is mobile and this chick is on the move. Since she is napping and I want to get something painted, I'm copping out on writing anything of value and decided to do a tag. I can always come up with something to say about me, me, me.

6 Quirky things about me

1. I sat on scissors once and had to get stitches.
2. I have a list of about five movies that I watch over, and over, and over, and over and never get sick of them. The most recent is P.S. I love you. I watched it twice last week and I'm going to watch it again today.
3. I wear a size ten shoe. In Jr. High I wore an 11. Finding shoes on clearance has never been a problem. But finding cute shoes on clearance has.
4. Yesterday while ironing my shorts on the counter, I seared jelly into the butt. Husband apparently had just made himself a sandwich. I'd have been better off not ironing in the first place. I knew it!
5. I have an intellectual crush on Dr. House.
6. I like to eat pineapple with Feta cheese. It sounded good one day and it wasn't bad. Proof positive that you don't have to be pregnant to get cravings.

I am tagging the last six people on my blog list because then maybe they'll write something. Hey Grami! That means you!

Matryoshkas are back.

Remember creepy? Well, she/it went the way of the dogs. Ani was done with her in about three minutes. Take that creepy doll! But matryoshkas have still been on the brain. So, when I saw this it was like inspiration straight from heaven. Or the blogiverse. But still.

Paint your own blank set! Are you kidding me? This is exactly what I've been looking for. I ordered the three piece set to make Papa, Mommy, and Little Miss.

And this Playdate dress pattern from Oliver and S.

In this fabric.

Planning Christmas is almost more fun that opening presents. Almost.

Update

I have eaten something and am feeling MUCH better. I don't want you to think that I hate my job. It's just that sometimes it is a little TOO interesting.

For example, today one patient looked at me like I crawled out from under a rock because I asked him what his family farmed. Well apparently I should have known since they own a local and very prominent winery. I had been calling him Mr. So and so since I got there. Well excuse me! All I know about wine is that Kendall Jackson is an upsell when you're waiting tables.

A second patient answered the door dragging their foot in a bucket because the wound on said foot was draining so much. And that is secondary to the fact that this patient is off their methadone, Hep C pos, and has MRSA! But what is really important is that now I have to shower before I hold Little Miss and wash my tennis shoes because I know I've been splattered by one of the nastiest wounds I've seen in a long time.

But not before I walk in the door and am informed that we are out of diapers and they need to be washed. Oh, and Ani barfed today. I think any person, even people who love their job would have said Ayayay! And don't forget that I hadn't had dinner yet either.

Bringing out the bilungualness in me.

Is bilingualness a word? Whatever. It is now.

I used to be bilingual having lived in Mexico for six years (which tells you it was not on my mission which is what people assume). But I'm getting rusty. I do however recall that certain bilingual cartoon characters run around yelling "Ayayayayayay!" Which is what I thought all the way home, but picture it a much more tired, less enthusiastic "ay ayay!" That was my day today. My head is going to explode. Or implode. Or something. Good news is that I am going to go knit lace. Knitting lace requires strict attention and focus which means no talking. No talking is good right now because nice is not the state of words that would come out of my mouth.

You guessed it. I went to work today.

Scratch that.

I got to hold Grady last night. I don't have pictures to prove it, but I promise I did. He is the cutest Little Bug! The second cutest baby in the universe for sure! I held and got to smell him. The smell of the tiniest babies like that is better than Tommy Girl (my personal favorite of perfumes which I've worn since Jr. High).

Yesterday I was like, "See how much I've grown!" I'm sooo over my crappy ovaries, jacked up fallopian tubes, and insufficient uterine lining!

But today I'm more like, Could you just work for like say ten months? Pretty please. I will share some of Angela's amazing lemon meringue pie with you if we could just get a little guy here. I have an extra piece in the fridge right this second. Well, I did until I ate it for breakfast. I really don't want to have to fill out more questionnaires.

Am I being selfish? Don't care.

I want more kids.
More pie.
More kids and more pie.

Changing

I have often balked at the concept of the Mommy Club in the past. It was something for other women. Not me. I wanted nothing to do with it. And Park Days? Oh, we're not even going there. Even going so far as to having mocked it with my other infertile friends.

And yet something has changed. I noticed it talking about formulas and immunizations this week and watching birthing videos and discussing doulas. And then it became even more apparent last week at the RS board meeting. When the subject of the number of women that were currently pregnant in the ward came up (it's a really high number considering we're not a student ward), I didn't shift in the familiar uncomfortableness in my chair. I just sat there curiously wondering if I knew them all.

And then I saw it. The look on another woman's face. She doesn't know I know. But it was there. Completely undetected by the other women in the room. The clenching of the jaw. The tightening of the gritted smile. The blinking as fast as possible so no one notices you're tearing. And you hold your breath praying the subject quickly changes. And the subject quickly did. And my heart broke for her.

I could see her pain. And I remembered the pain. And then a thought that completely took me off guard. I was remembering the pain- not feeling it. And I felt so good, so grateful. And I had to blink so no one noticed I was tearing.

Now or never.

I either post these now, or it's not going to happen.

What I did today.

Mostly.

Bottlecap pincushion with scraps from a jumper I'm making for Thanksgiving for Little Miss. So far just the pattern is cut out. Soon, though. Soon.


And some beaded bookmarks. This one belongs to someone who I know doesn't read my blog. And even if she did, she doesn't like surprises anyway.


The rest is Christmas stuff. So no pics.

I also started a fluffy reading book, 'The Friday Night Knitting Club.' I'll let you know what I think.

I like my husband and I don't care if you know it.

Apparently it's not cool to like your spouse. Or praise them in public. Ever get around a bunch of women? It doesn't take long before you get the impression that their husbands are lazy good-for-nothins who never do anything right because working, providing, down right putting up with us isn't enough.

I think one of the best things (if we're going to get all "find the good in everything" which it looks like we're about to this morning) about infertility is that it really forces you to look at your marriage. It puts a very weird stress on the relationship. There is no 'staying together for the kids'. You get to honestly look at your relationship and think, "Do I really like this person? I mean really, really like them? Because it may just be us for a long, long, possibly into the next life, long time." I remember getting to a point where I thought that if it is just us, I'll be okay with that. Not my first choice, but we would have been okay.

And there is a part of me that is glad it was just us for a little while. Life can get nuts. We can make life nuts. And sometimes its hard to remember what it was like to be his girlfriend. Because lets face it, there isn't a whole lot that is sexy about burping babies and smelling like formula even though you don't have a kid who spits up. ( (Tangent) How does that happen by the way? It's like the smell soaks in to even your hair. Gag. Have you ever tried the stuff? It's disgusting. I almost feel bad making her drink it. Ever tried breast milk? Even more disgusting. O.K. Now you're seriously weirded out, but I like to know what my kid is drinking. She sucks that bottle down so freakin' fast I wondered if I was missing out on something.)

Now don't get me wrong. Every marriage has it's junk. And it is nice to a have a few (like maybe two) close friends that you can say "seriously getting on my last nerve here" and it's not going to go anywhere, or be held against the poor man. Because in a lot of cases it really is 'poor man'. And your close friends are thinking, "Yes my dear, you're the one that's nuts right now." And those poor husbands are damned if they do and damned if they don't- in a lot of cases.

But for the most part, I don't love my husband. I like him. I mean, of course I love him. But I also really, really like the guy.

Some wives mind when their husbands have hobbies. Like watching football or hiking. Two of my husband's very, very favorite things to do.

But not me.

No. Definitely. Not me.

Because while I love hanging out with my Handsome Husband and I am terribly lonely while he's gone, it also gives me a chance to miss him. (As in, 'how can I miss you if you don't go away?' Cuz you know you snicker inside every time you see that bumper sticker.) It also gives me a chance to get stuff done where I don't feel bad about not clearing my junk off the table for dinner and I can craft, watch movies, eat popcorn, not cook, hang out with Little Miss (and she'll stay in her diaper not wearing shoes or a bow but don't tell) for like twelve hours straight. But that's also because I have a very nice husband. I remember that.

A couple days ago on his way to work he was saying goodbye and told me to have a good day. I told him I was going to try and get the bathrooms cleaned. His response? "O.K. If that's what you want to do. I don't care if the house is clean. Just take care of my Little Miss and keep her happy." Say it together with me...ready? One. Two. Three. "Awwwww!"

So yesterday when he left to climb Half Dome, I said goodbye and told him I would take care of Little Miss. I also told him I'd be super ticked if he fell off the mountain. I really, really like the guy.

Oh Happy Day!

Not an expression I use lightly. But this is a happy day.

For months I have told myself that the paperwork doesn't matter. That no court, or judge, or even temple sealing can tell me, my husband, or my daughter who our family is. And yet...it matters very, very much.

So Weiner, I mean Wayner. I forgive you for being a putz. And not returning phone calls, and then when you can't avoid me any longer wimping out and having your secretary do the dirty work for you. I forgive you, because you made my day today. You made my day so big that my eyes filled up with tears at the news you gave me. And that's not easy to do. I'm the Mayor and I'm a pretty tough chick.

How do you do that?

At last night's shower (which had some of the best turn out for an activity in that ward mind you) I talked to some people who said, "Oh, I love reading your blog!" The people who hate it or me seldom say anything. :)

Um, excuse me? What was that? My blog. You're sure it was mine? And then they quote something and I say, "Yeah, that sounds like me." But don't judge by the blog. Then I remember that I've been rubbing on my special lotion and taking my pills, so I haven't sounded so snarky and down-right bitchy lately. Good thing for that. And I'm even PMS-ing right now and you didn't even know. But I'm not in their ward anymore so it's not like they could tell on me to anyone anyway.

The other thing that came up was "how do you blog every day?" First off, I don't. Sometimes I write multiple posts at a time and then publish them when I need them. Secret's out. Don't tell.

He he.

I was going to let you think I was Super Mommy but have since decided to cut down on bold-faced-outright lies. So I will let you in on another little secret. It's the same way I get my knitting done, and the occasional cooking. I let Little Miss think she's helping. She has her own keyboard and I know we are done when she launches it off the edge of the ottoman.


Tuesday I really had to get something done and Little Miss was in a mood where she only wanted to be held. Usually I oblige, but I really, really needed to get this done. And she LOVES the bathtub so I stuck her in the tub (fully clothed) with no water and handed her her toys. She played in there for almost forty five minutes while I sat on the toilet and knit. You do what you have to and make it up as you go along. That's how I do most things (diaper cakes included). Or go on YouTube. They've got lots of good (and not so good) ideas too.

Cuz you're all staying up late...

to find out if I finished the blanket. Yes, I made it to the shower with the blanket. Sort of. There was only a little bit left to finish. But the real news is that I only opened mouth inserted foot a few times and at least one major time while I was there. Loverly. I think I should start texting my comments to myself before I actually say things out loud. Nah, probably wouldn't help and would be too time consuming.

Yes, tacky and rude as it was I finished the blanket at the shower. There were plenty of people there willing to hold Little Miss and enough others to block my view of what Holly was opening and what I was actually doing, so whatever. It's done. And it's not a hat, or a shawl, or a poncho. It's a round baby blanket. But if she wants to cut a hole in the center and make it a poncho it's her, I mean Grady's blanket so go ahead.

The pics were taken in the dark on the front porch so they aren't fancy, but you get the idea.


Pinwheel Baby Blanket- Ravelry
Used Lion Organic Cotton
10.5 dpns and then circs worked in the round. Oooh, and I learned the picot bind off for this. I know you don't care, but someday I'm going to want to remember.

He is so very, very cute. I didn't get a shot of Momma and baby, but I got Auntie and baby.


And just baby. Dang, he is a cute little bug.


Ang and I used the Very Hungry Caterpillar book by Eric Carle as a theme for the diaper cake. They're actually a lot of fun to make.


And the brownies...well... they weren't exactly brownies. They were chocolate covered peanut butter bars and the first time around I burned the chocolate while changing a diaper. So, second time around didn't leave me enough time to try them out before packing them up to take to the shower. Umm, not so much. They are so sweet that a snack like that should be followed by something high in protein (like I preach to all my diabetic patients) and by more protein I don't mean another another peanut butter bar. But I don't think anyone cared. Grady-bug was enough eye candy for all of us. (Yeah, I had to work that in. Do people actually say eye candy?)

There you have it. Cuz I know that's what you all stayed up late to find out.

I've got twelve hours until the shower.

The stars have aligned just so- meaning that they have combined forces to work against me. I have FOUR appts. today and brownies to make but come hell or high water I WILL finish this blanket for the baby shower. And I've got booties to finish too. The knitting marathon has begun.

Almost famous.

There is a certain name on a tag in the back of I'd guess at least 85% of my clothes. I love it. Always have. Their pants fit me, and their t-shirts are cheap. So when I heard about their casting call, of course I'm going to sign my kid up. Can you say "free trip and a gift card"? I feel a little weird/guilty about pimping my kid out so if you'd do it too, I'd feel a lot better.


I thought it was a good idea. Little Miss on the other hand is not so sure. Lately she wants nothing to do with the camera unless I let her hold it. The concept of brand loyalty and F-R-E-E stuff doesn't mean much at this age. Maybe it's better that way.

Sneak Peek

Sneak peek at what has to be done this week.
No really- it HAS to get done.
The more I procrastinate, the bigger He gets and the larger I have to make the blanket.

Next time.

Next time I'll become a bank teller. I don't know of a bank anywhere in America that is open on Sunday morning. Instead this will likely be my day.

Patient #1:

Me- "So? Let's talk about Hospice."
Very young, I-don't-know-what-I-did-to-deserve-this-patient- "I don't wanna talk about Hospice."
Me- "Yeah. Me neither. Let's watch football instead."


Patient #2:

Me- "Lay off the booze and the drugs and you might feel better."


Patient #3:

"Just let me slap this dressing on your butt and you can go back to playing Bingo."

This should be a doozie of a day. Days like this make you feel like a loser nurse. Because realistically, there's not a dang thing I can do for any of these people.

Next time, when I'm a bank teller- I'll sleep in every Sunday and pretend there are no sick people with health problems I probably (almost guaranteed) won't be able to fix, and eat crepes for breakfast.

Next time.

The greatest inventions of all time.

The crock pot and the rice cooker. God bless the Rival company and Japanese ingenuity!

Enough said.

She gets it from her mom and a little anxiety.

We hear "You have your mommy's eyes." at the post office, the grocery store, the library. And we just smile and bat our eyelashes, because yeah she probably does- I've still got mine.

This is her "Ummmm...no." look. This little chick has the personality of a honest to goodness DIVA in her little body. Discipline with a straight face is going to be one of my greatest challenges.

She's a sweetie and is very easy going, but this child knows exactly what she wants when she wants it. Wonder where she got that from? Maybe both of us.

But this she totally gets from me. Who gives their kid crinkle paper, ribbon spool, and hot glue gun stick to play with? That would be me. I'm over in the corner working on a project that I am not at liberty to discuss. And yeah she's still in her pajamas and I'm in my nasty old gray sweats because the creative crafting juices started flowing before I got to doing anything productive today.



I'm on a deadline. Didn't you know Christmas is around the corner? I didn't. Until I went to Micheal's last night and now I'm feeling behind. What happened to Halloween and Thanksgiving? Did I miss something?

Little Miss hasn't even had a chance to wear her skull and corduroy outfit we made, and they're trying to cram Christmas down my throat. Now I feel like I need to get a move on. I may wear my gray sweat pants till New Years, but then we've got Easter to plan as well.


Beware.

Take a chill pill before doing any shopping for the next four months or you'll come home all worked up and in a tizzy that the "The holidays are coming!" "The holidays are coming!"

I didn't forget.

I'm just Good-for-nothin' Mom.

Does this look like the face of a traitor? Oh, yes. Yes it does.

When I went to get Little Miss up the other morning to say Good Morning and snuggle, Husband came in right behind me. And before I could even get my hug she squirmed around in my arms and reached up to be picked up by Papa. I was crushed. Then later that day she decides she doesn't need me after all and decides to hold her own bottle. Excuuuuse me? The last straw came yesterday when for the first time in two weeks I went to work. So who decides to crawl? Not like I haven't been working with her, encouraging her, or cleaning the nastiest of diapers. I even wash the stupid things. Does that count for nothing?

Little Miss Traitor.

Is it because he can grow facial hair? Cuz I could totally pull off a slight mustache.


I'll show them.

I'm going to cheer for the Utes.

You like big butts and you cannot lie!

I read today some one's theory that we all peak in maturity at 18 and then we're just playing pretend from there on. OK. I buy that. I admit that there are days were I have to remind myself that I am a grown up and have to put my big girl panties on. Other days- why bother? Especially when Miqui's around. Those days I just wear her bra.

Bra size has always been a source of contention between my sisters and I. Theirs are big and mine are well...not so big. We've nicknamed them their parachutes. It only goes downhill from there. So we're immature and only we think we're funny!? But we think we're dang funny.

Camping Review and a Book Report

I can't find the dumb cord for the camera so no trip pics today. It's here somewhere. I probably put it in a 'safe' place where I wouldn't lose it and now I don't know where that is. I do that a lot. I want a little device by the front door labeled keys, glasses, cell phone, camera cord and when I push it the buzzer rings until I can find what I'm looking for. Maybe I'll get husband to invent one with little flashing LEDs with Daniel Craig's voice. We'll make a mint and retire to the back country.

So this is where we were. Nice huh?


It's kind of weird to be without cell phones, the Internet, plumbing. What did people do back then? Besides walk, and walk, and walk, and walk like a little pioneer child. It honestly was a lot of fun. Plus, my husband wants me to like it so he makes the bed sleeping bags, does the cooking, and the dishes while I sit on my behind reading. Which is what I did.What's not to love?

I should really be doing my book reviews on GoodReads but this is me multitasking. I'm gonna blog anyway- might as well do it here. I read 'Glass Castle' by Jeanette Walls. A book on my list I actually liked. Hurrah! Besides the ingenuity of these kids to stay alive, you can't help but be interested throughout the entire book from the functional dysfunction of the family to her complete lack of anger and judgement. You think your parents screwed you up? Wah, wah! After you read this you'll be grateful for the life you live and feel much better about your own parenting too (I hope.). The author has been criticized by some for the "lack of emotional response" or "personal narrative" but I disagree. Her straightforward honest approach came off very like able and speaks to her main objective in writing this as just her story- not seeking sympathy or to place blame, but to state things as they were. It was a good one- totally recommend it. And my kind of nerdy computer geek husband (who I love dearly) thought it was awesome that Rex Walls had his daughter do her math homework in binary.

The Church is true. Adoption is true. Amen.

And we're back. The adage about bears being "more afraid of you than you are of them" must be true. I had no idea bears were such yellow, chicken livered, pansies but there you go. I was only a teensy weensy bit worried, okay a lot worried about being mauled/eaten a live.

But maybe because wandering in the wilderness for days makes you a little loopy, or I'm just feeling a little sentimental because that's what newly posted pictures of newborns do, or I'm hormonally whacked, or maybe just plain whacked- I have something totally corny, over-the-top syrupy and cliche to say.... just call it my testimony for this month.

The Church is true. Adoption is true. Amen.

And I can't say anymore or I'll just blubber and cry. But you wanna know why? OK fine I'll tell you.

When we moved to our first ward back in California EVERYONE (not an exaggeration by the way) kept asking we had met Holly and Brad. Have you met Holly and Brad? And Angela and Dave? Nooo, we hadn't. Have you met Holly and Brad? Or Ang and Dave? Who are these people anyway? If you like them so much, why don't YOU hang out with them.

And then we found out why everyone wanted us to be insta-friends. They didn't have kids either. Lovely. I was only a little annoyed, but intrigued anyway. But I wasn't about to go up to either one of these ladies and go "So I hear you're infertile? Imagine that. Me too." Even though you secretly want to so you don't have to justify why you're not going to be in church on Mother's Day to these people because they aren't either. Still. Awkward. Then I got my first visiting teaching assignment...Oh you have got to freakin' kidding me!

Holly is my partner and we visit teach Angela. I was more than annoyed with the Relief Society for meddling so of course I didn't make any calls that month. No way! (Because I'm stubborn like that.) And then one evening John and I are sitting in the first "so you think you wanna adopt" class at LDS Family Services and I happen to look behind us and guess who's sitting there? Holly and Brad. Holy Sh*t! is what I would later learn we were both thinking. Afterwards we made the obligatory how-de-dos and please-to-meet-chas and we pledged to do our Visiting Teaching even though this was clearly the assign a friend plan. The first time we visit Angela was the longest visiting teaching visit I had EVER been on. I think all three of us cried at some point or another. And since then we have been through seriously thick, and frighteningly thin, have bawled like babies, and laughed until you really hurt. So that's why the church is true. And even though I may cringe occasionally at the thought of Relief Society, I honesty think that for once the meddling (or possibly inspiration) of the Relief Society making those assignments, placed people in my life that will never know how much they've meant to me. It's going to sound like a BYU Fast Sunday, but I could never explain how grateful I am for these ladies.

And adoption is true because look at this family and their perfect little son. Congratulations Holly and Brad! And Grady...(it's gonna take me a minute to get used to not calling you Milo, but your name totally fits you.) Welcome to world little buddy! You've got some kick ass parents! And you're the (second) cutest baby in the universe!

This could be my last and final post ever...

But only if I get eaten by a bear on our hiking trip. There are bets going around on whether or not we come home earlier because we can't stand to be away from Little Miss for two days. Any takers?

Just a couple of things before we head out-

If something happens to me, please don't let my dogs end up in the pound. There should be enough life insurance to support them to the lifestyle they've become accustomed to.

Somebody, for the love! Keep my kid off the pole and off of Cops.

Oh, and Milo...Happy Birthday you little bugger. I can't believe you waited until I was out of cell phone range to show up. Now I'll be the last to know.

Not all fun and games.

Our vacation is not all fun and games. I get to go to the 'down there' doc tomorrow. Compared to the HSG of last year, this should be a piece of cake. Are you totally freaking out that I post about when I have my...ahem..womanly physical? Ha, ha! That's why I do it. I love to watch you squirm. Well, here's a public service announcement for ya. Every chick should get a Pap regularly. But you should all feel especially bad for me because I have mine done on vacation.

I know everybody and their mother has gotten this e-mail, but it's a classic.

I was due later that week for an appointment with the gynecologist when early one morning I received a call from his office: I had been rescheduled for early that morning at 9:30am. I had just packed everyone off to work and school and it was around 8:45 already.

The trip to his office usually took about 35 minutes so I didn’t have any time to spare. As most women do, I’m sure, I like to take a little extra effort over hygiene when making such visits, but this time I wasn’t going to be able to make the full effort. So I rushed upstairs, threw off my dressing gown, wet the washcloth and gave myself a wash in “that area” in front of the sink, taking extra care to make sure that I was presentable.

I threw the washcloth in the clothes basket, donned some clothes, hopped in the car and raced to my appointment. I was in the waiting room only a few minutes when he called me in. Knowing the procedure, as I am sure you all do, I hopped up on the table, looked over at the other side of the room and pretended I was in Hawaii or some other place a million miles away from here. I was a little surprised when he said:

“My…we have taken a little extra effort this morning, haven’t we?” but I didn’t respond. The appointment over, I heaved a sigh of relief and went home. The rest of the day went normal, some shopping, cleaning and the evening meal, etc.

At 8:30 that evening my 14 year old daughter was fixing to go to a school dance, when she called down from the bathroom, “Mom - where’s my washcloth?” I called back for her to get another from the cabinet.

She called back, “No - I need the one that was here by the sink. It had all my glitter and sparkles in it."

Santa Barbara Zoo

Now you too can have Raffi's "We're Going to the Zoo" stuck in your head to sing over and over and over. Which is good because my dad took about two hundred pictures today so you'll have something to sing while you look at them. The Santa Barbara Zoo is definitely the way to go in So. Cal. It's cooler (temp wise), next to the beach, and has great Mexican food on the way home.

Trust me there are more where these came from, but I don't want to steal all Dad's material- just by some chance he decides to blog himself.