Monday, November 23, 2015

Red Butte Garden and Delightful Goldie

Now that Sam doesn't work downtown, we haven't gone to Red Butte Garden as much as we used to…but we managed to get up there for a picnic one day when the weather was still warm. I always love the textures there in Fall and Winter.

On another note---I'm having lots of conversations like this one with Goldie these days:
Me: What are you doing, Goldie?
Her: Toeing.
Me: Toeing?
Her: No, Fff-tooing.
Me: Tooing? Chewing? Moving?
Her: No, TOOOOO-wing!
(I turn to look at her with a bowl and spoon in her hand, mixing something).
Her: Yes, ftooing.

We also particularly like several words she says. Our favorite is GALALA for "gorilla." And we also love her tendency to end "-er" words with "y" instead. For example: water bottle is watty body. The cute otters we saw at the aquarium were cute cute otteys! and honey butter is honey buddy. Oh how we wish we could just snatch up her cuddly little self and smother her with kisses (which we frequently DO)—but she's got far too much on her plate to put up with it for long.

Anyway, a few more garden pictures:
Goldie holding forth about some subject or other

Tuesday, November 10, 2015

The fretful porpentine

Several weeks ago, I was sick (strep throat, as it turned out, which is good as I find it much more satisfying to have a named sickness rather than the usual vague viral-flu-ish-something); sick enough that I couldn't even drag myself through the house doing things feebly and grudgingly as one sometimes has to when one is sick. Even sitting up in bed and reading tired me out, but since I felt like I was being garroted every time I swallowed (which of course meant I desperately felt the need to swallow every few seconds), I couldn't really sleep. And I was so BORED! I was reduced to mostly just lying there and thinking. Now, I LIKE lying around thinking, but unfortunately I had the sort of fever where you have half-dreams about how each of your breaths is stored in a separate file folder in a huge warehouse, and you have to climb, exhausted, over chain-link fencing to collect each one, in ever-widening circles. The sort of fever where you wake, sweat-covered, clutching, a taste like ash on your tongue, and absolutely certain that your body has burned a hole right through the pile of blankets above you. So, while mildly entertaining in retrospect, the ideas I had were very strange and overwrought and not much worth writing down.

I hadn't stayed confined to my bedroom like that since…well, since last time I had a baby, and I must say I liked this much less: no rosy newborn cheeks to kiss, no glow of accomplishment and fear-tinged wonder about what sort of new routines lie ahead. Instead just a sort of morbid feeling of hopelessness, and an almost smug certainty that I'd never be able to do anything comfortably again. Now of course, I'm seeing it all through a haze of nostalgia and wistfulness ("Ah! To stay in bed for a few days! To just drift off to sleep whenever I felt like it!"), but at the time I was thinking to myself, very seriously, that we were going to have to move to Idaho so the children could drive at age 14, because I would likely never be able to sit up and focus my eyes well enough to drive them anywhere again.

At this point I would like to deliver a touching little sermon about something like how when one's perspective changes, one learns to see the good amid hard times (likely very true) but I didn't really have anything like that in mind when I started writing this, and I can't much think of anything now. Maybe someone better at actually enduring hard times would have more valuable thoughts on the subject. All I really wanted to say is that these pictures are from a drive Sam and I went on, up into the canyon, when I absolutely could not stand the thought of being within four walls for one more second—and even though I was still weak and feverish and despairing—I felt the sunshine, and looked around me, and felt that maybe, possibly, things would be better soon.
And maybe there is a bit of a sermon in that, after all?

Monday, November 9, 2015

Random Thoughts, The Lamps Are Going Out edition

These pictures are from way back in October, but it's good to have a little October left over when it's dark and cold outside.

• Speaking of the dark, cold world, the Marriott Center got remodeled with new seats, so we had to have our BYU Basketball season tickets reassigned. And because of the selection process, we weren't able to get our new seats anywhere near where our seats are supposed to be. Now we're on the other side of the court…higher up…to the right. Look, I KNOW this isn't the biggest deal in the world. But my dad has had those seats since the Marriott Center was built, and they were our seats. I've been watching BYU basketball from them for 30 years! When we went to the first game the other night, I actually felt this physical heaviness, like something precious had been lost forever. I kept getting tears in my eyes. Lame, huh? It didn't help that we were sitting next to a 14-year-old boy who (as Bertie Wooster says) made you feel that what this country wants is somebody like King Herod.

• I also note the absurdity of saying "I'm just gonna sneak past you" as you squeeze past everyone along the row to get to your seats. No…no, you're not really going to "sneak past me." But go ahead!

• How is it that every search I do on Amazon ends up with pages and pages of iPhone cases at the bottom of it?

• Sam referred to the condition of our children "sitting" on the pew at church as "The Human Abacus." Strikingly accurate.

Well, they aren't very cheerful random thoughts, are they? We will perk them up with some more pictures:
This was such a lovely day. It was one of those peaceful, unhurried days when we didn't have to be anywhere (because we already were somewhere, if you follow me…waiting while the big boys finished choir rehearsal, so we couldn't feel that we ought actually to be somewhere else) and the air was still warm under the trees, and all the children just busied themselves with sticks and rocks and dirt and little funny, mysterious games. Teddy even fell asleep in his stroller for awhile, which was miraculous.

The leaves were so bright against the dark pines!
The moment I looked at Malachi sitting on this rock, I knew he was pretending to be a birdie. Something in his expression.
Yellow reflection on the water
Scared of the troll
The sun started to go down behind the canyon walls as the kids played by the water, and it was making me feel all aching and sentimental: "As this light fades, so does this time of childhood fade and quickly die…." You know…cheerful stuff like that.
It's startling, the difference after the sun goes down. Above, with the sunlight coming through those yellow leaves, it's almost magical. Once the dusk falls…still pretty, but…something is lost.
Well. On the way home, we were treated to this view. I'm glad we live far enough from "the city" that we can happen upon scenes like this from time to time!