The Daze of Summer

Yeah, I'm sure no one has EVER used that comment before! I can't believe that it is the last day of July. We have unintentionally managed to cram so much into this summer. Well, into the last 3 1/2 months. Since we left Egypt, we've been back and forth across the US two and a half times, bought a car, been from as far south as Springville, UT and north to Missoula, MT, driven round trip from Rexburg to Washington, D.C. and back, Niagara, Palmyra, Mt. Rushmore and sent one husband off to Iraq.

I got the keys to my house back this afternoon. It was like buying it all over again. We've never lived in it, you know. We bought it, managed the sale and closing all long distance. Once we closed, we got a phone call saying,

"You're homeowners! Congratulations!"

Woot. We were sitting in our living room at 1am in Cairo. Not much we can do from there. This week the property managers have been doing the make ready; fixing things, cleaning carpets, etc. getting it ready for us to move in. And they finished today. I picked up my keys and felt like jumping for joy. I drove over to my house, put the key in my door and unlocked my new life. So this is what it feels like. In 10 1/2 years of marriage, to walk into my dwelling and have it be just mine. No worrying about the kids stomping over-zealously on the floors for fear the downstairs neighbors will complain; or knowing the next-wall neighbor has a cold because you can hear every sneeze. And to turn the children out in the backyard to play.

When I told the kids we would be moving into the house and showed them pictures, they asked,

"Who else lives there?"
"Just us."
"Where is the elevator?"
"No elevator."
"So we live on the ground floor?"
"Yes, so to speak. Just up the front steps and into our front door that we don't share with anyone."

Now begins the new chapter. Also, looking forward to mid-October when we can share it with Spencer for 3 weeks.

Whackity-whack

Eliza has been bugging me all summer to get her hair chopped off. I kept waffling about the whole thing, she has gorgeous hair. Thicker and more luscious than I could ever dream of having. She had a thicker ponytail at three years old than I have ever. Ever! So I told her that she had to grow it just a bit longer so that it would qualify for the Locks of Love donation program. She had one half inch to go. 3/4ths to an inch to be safe. Then I heard about the Pantene donation requirements. They only require 8 inches. Ah-ha! So I arranged with my hairdresser friend to have it cut. It was sad to see it go. But this is the second time Eliza has donated to a hair program. She did it two years ago as well. As did Mairyn. She lost a whopping 12 inches the last time we did it. We've been keeping Mairyn's hair a bit shorter in the interim, so she was far from qualifying. But she wanted to get a haircut, too. Who am I to stand in the way of an easier hairstyle? Really, it will be easier for the girls to maintain their own hair; washing, drying, brushing, etc. And they said they felt a lot cooler!!

Continuing . . . .

The barfing has continued to Grant now. Jacqueline rid herself of it late Thursday, lulled me into a false sense of security so that Grant could take the reins and in the last few minutes of church on Sunday, say he needed to "frow up". I was fortunately right by a bathroom and was able to duck in. That would have been a great first impression and one to last throughout the year.

"Oh, yes, your son threw up all over the hall that first Sunday."

"Lydia-who? Oh, the lady whose son threw up."

Whew, disaster averted. We did have a fun Saturday before this all began again. Climbing trees and just being outside!

What a day!

A snapshot from South Dakota

So the last day of our cross country journey was, well, hard to sum up. What should have been a 9 hour drive turned into a 13 hour trek.

We pulled out of Fort Collins, CO right on schedule at 6:15 am. We plow north and about 8 miles outside of Laramie, WY, I heard this weird, thumping noise. And right as I'm passing a convienient pull out area. Great. I'm trying to figure out if it's coming from the engine? No. A flat tire? But I'm not losing speed. I pull over anyway, step out and hear a loud, hissing noise coming from the rear driver's side tire. It had to be the one facing the road, huh? Right when I pulled over, another van pulled off in front of me. A tall guy in a baseball cap steps out of his minivan, laden with his own 4 children and wife.

"Can we help you?" he asks.

Through my tears, I can only nod my head and show him the offending tire.

"We saw you about a mile back and noticed something wrong with your tire. And then we saw the kids in back and you alone in the front seat. Thought you could use some help."

So him and his wife help me start unloading the back of the van because that's where the spare and jack are so well hidden. We start talking a bit and they are moving cross country too, from Virginia. Herndon, Virginia. They've been there 5 years since they graduated from BYU and now are moving back to the valley. They moved to the Herndon ward a few months before we moved out. It's a small world. He finishes up, we repack the car with the flat tire at Eliza's feet and I thank them profusely. I know I could have changed that tire, done it before, but I didn't have to. I did not even have time to stand on the side of the road and wonder what I was going to do.

I got back on the freeway and turned around in one of those median driveways. The ones where cops sit and wait to catch speeders. The ones that have a huge sign that says, "For authorized emergency vehicles only." Yep, I fit. My vehicle is in an emergency.

Scrolling through the "Auto Services" menu in Gina (the GPS), I pick the first one that has 'tire' in it's title and have her direct me there. I poke along at 55 mph the 8 miles back to Laramie and find Advanced Automotive and Tire. I pull up and walk into the office. A nice guy in there asks me what he can do for me. I explain the flat and much needed repair of my tire. He says that he'd be more than happy to help, but he's still getting the necessary tools to patch tires. But don't worry, he has a friend that can do it. He notices my license plates and says,

"1M, that's Rexburg, right?"

Yes, yes it is. He then kind of hems & ums a bit and then asks me,

"Well, then, ah, if I could ask, um, are you, uh, LDS?"

Yes, yes I am.

"So am I! Nice to meet you. My son and his wife are at BYU and just had their first baby last week!"

He pulls out pictures, and I mention that my parents used to live in Laramie. Yes, he remembers them. He then gets out his card, flips it over and writes his cell phone number on the back. I am to call him if I have any more problems today. No matter where I am, just call him up and he'll come or find someone who can. And if we find that we have to stay the night, please, call him up and we can stay with his family. I, again, thank him profusely and drive over to the garage where they patch my tire and give Optimus a clean bill of health.

Now, we have been delayed by 2 hours; the kids are hungry and I know that crackers and cheese sticks won't suffice. It's still only 9:30 am, so we find a breakfast place and they fill their little tummies. 10:10 am, we're back on the road and everyone is happy. I do get a little nervous as I pass between mile marker 306, hoping that history won't repeat itself. It doesn't and things are going smoothly. When we reach Rawlins, I have a half tank and decide to fill up. In Wyoming, you never know! After gassing up, right as we are easing back onto I-80, Jacqueline starts barfing. Great. Fortunately, there is one more exit for Rawlins and we pull off. I try to clean her up, but handi-wipes just won't cut it. There is a Best Western across the parking lot and I run in to ask if we can use their restrooms. They oblige and I bring J in, along with clean clothes. I clean her up and as I'm rinsing clothes in the sink, she's dancing a little jig by the paper towels. Ok, she seems fine! Maybe it was just a little car sickness.

Maybe not. About 2 hours down the road, she starts barfing again and keeps at it for the next 5. Each little hotel I see, I am sorely tempted to just give up for the day. I just can't. Though I am sick of driving, I'm sick of sleeping in hotel rooms, bringing in our toiletries and underwear, not having enough pillows or blankets. I just can't do it anymore. We finally limp into Rexburg and park in the driveway. Is this just a mirage or are we really here? We are.

Another South Dakota view

P.S.
I wish that I could say that I slept like a rock, am rested and ready to dive into all the work I have to do here. But I can't. Jacqui still wouldn't keep even water down late into the night. She spiked a fever and slept restlessly. About 1 am, she started keeping down her drinks of water. She would wake up about every 30 minutes for another drink, then lay down again. She's sleeping fine, now, after a breakfast of juice and bread. And no more fever. Insha'allah.

*For more charitable, inspiring and service related posts, ideas, projects and contests, go to The Service Soapbox.

Everyone's an individual

When we visit a place like Mt. Rushmore, or Niagara Falls, or the cool Dairy Queen down the street, I try to get an individual picture of each person. Something they don't have to share with anyone. It usually takes a while, but I like that they can pick out a picture from our family trip and go, "There's me at Mt. Rushmore." And only them.

*That last pic, btw, was taken by Mairyn.

Mount Rushmore

Traveling around the country has definitely been an experience. People ooh and ahhh when they hear we've lived in such exotic places, but there are some pretty amazing things right here in the US of A. Driving cross country; back and forth, within 7 weeks is a lot to absorb; like skimming a book, you get the highlights and a better "big picture" of it all. The driving has definitely been made easier with a new car and DVD system (bless you, whoever invented that). But the days still get long. Exasperation sets in when we've driven for so many miles to a certain destination and all that you get in response is whining & apparent ungratefulness. I find many "parent phrases" flying out of my mouth uncontrollably.

"I drove for 7 hours to get you here and you're complaining now?"

"You should be grateful to even be here."

I know that long hours in the car wear on everyone; no reaction can be predictable. Deep down, I know we're making memories. Niagara Falls? Check. Another little fold in the gray matter. National Monuments at our Nation's capitol? Got it covered. As well as a monumental tantrum on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. Sakkara Pyramids, oldest structures on earth? Been there too many times to count.

When we were driving today, Eliza asked how much longer it would be. I told her it would be about 4 more hours.

"Oh, like the drive to Alexandria. It took us about 4 hours." she said.

She has a frame of reference! Mairyn, on the other hand, is still learning. She asks how much longer and it doesn't matter what you say, she'll moan and wish it was now. You can say 37 minutes or 37 hours, she can't tell.

This morning, I rolled out of bed at 4 am. I dutifully loaded the car, toted each sleeping child down to the van and rolled out onto the road by 4:45 am. Functioning robotically, I followed every turn Gina directed me to take. Somehow, 8 1/2 hours later, we arrive at the Roosevelt Inn in Keystone, SD just 2.2 miles down the road from Mt. Rushmore. And since we crossed into Mountain Standard Time, I gained an hour! We were walking into the Grand View Terrace by 1:30 pm.

The were all very excited and intrigued by these carvings in the side of a mountain. When we toured the visitors center, Grant liked the idea of guys using dynamite and blowing up rock. There was a little interactive exhibit where you select a picture, then push the plunger down and it simulates you blowing up part of the mountain during the creation part. Grant had to be reluctantly pried away. Jacqui & Grant really had the shortest fuses today. (hah!) But we did it. We saw Mt. Rushmore. Been there, done that, didn't buy a t-shirt; just a magnet for our collection.

Treasure Trove

Since I'm in Nebraska, the first logical thing to do would be to get together with my sister Maggie and her fiance, Josh. Maggie has recently had some computer woes and lost a bunch of pictures. So while we were swapping pixels, she mentions that she has a disc of family pictures! Joy of joys! Over 300 pictures dating from the earliest of times to just last year.

My dad's parents and my parents circa 1978. Wanna know how I know? I'm psychic. No, see that little bump in my mom's shirt. Yep, that's me!


Who are these studs? My granddads.


One last picture

The little girl in front is my great-grandma Geri. The woman behind her? My great-great grandma Ruhama